#i had a longer post for this but never got the motivation to finish it; so you get it in bulletpoint format instead.... im sorry :(

[gu6chan]

meant to post this like. a month ago but before i go to bed (part ONE of) my little dod 1.3 oc.... Some factoids

They're known and regarded as a doctor and they do occasionally give out cures (albeit, experimental ones that are only offered as being anything close to a cure according to their interpreter but they largely seem to do the trick... maybe?) for those who ask them, but the truth is, they're much more of a scientist at heart and consider themselves as such. Their main focus of study is on the possibility of overcoming the negative effects Dragon's Blood has on the human body, mind, and soul — particularly where the soul is concerned.

They don't have a known name, voice, appearance, gender (though they're largely assumed to be a woman by stature alone) or even much of a "known" personality, but they do seem to be gentle and well-liked by the children they travel with.

They are the leader of a travelling scientific troupe, consisting mainly of children taken from a variety of circumstances — some found, others given up, others who willingly sought to join the troupe — and a few interpreters. Under their care, the lost children are fed and cared for in a surprisingly stable environment for a travelling troupe in midst of a war. This has earned them the only title by which they are known — "The Patron of Children", or in some cases, "The Children's Patron".

The interpreters they travel with, and assumedly the Children's Patron themselves, are the only adults in a troupe now growing past a hundred. While there are some guesses it may be to find more children, what they travel for or where they may even be headed is unknown.

Because they do not speak (Whether this is an impossibility for them or they simply choose not to is unknown), they have a particular sign language they invented themselves for the purpose of direct communication — though, this usually only finds its use in communicating through their interpreters and children due to their frequent travel leaving them unable to form many other "long-term" bonds. A great sign that one is considered an elusive "friend" of the Children's Patron is the gifting of your very own "Sign", used to refer to your name, being presented for use.

Among the few interpreters who follow in the steps of the Children's Patron, there is only one who had apparently known the Children's Patron before they began their work. They prefer not to speak of it, out of respect for their wishes.

Being an extremely reclusive and, if rumours are true, cowardly person, the Patron of Children will always conduct their research in private. None of their interpreters know anything relating to the subject, nor will they allow any visitors in the midst of it. In some regards, both to the Patron and her children themselves, they are much more like bodyguards than simple interpreters.

[aeyumicore]

misty invasion - omnipotent perception

━ .ᐟ✧ PAIRING: rafayel x female reader (afab)

━ ✧.˖ GENRE: smut, porn with some plot, porn with feelings, angst with comfort

━ .ᐟ✧ WORD COUNT: 6.5k (who’s surprised)

━ ✧.˖ WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, slight spoilers and alterations to ‘omnipotent perception (rafayel’s misty invasion card), slightly toxic relationship, m!receiving handjob, bathtub sex, pulling out, cummies in hair/face, lots of making out, hickeys, HEAVY references to rafayel’s lore (sea god and some abysswalker), references to rafayel’s 4* memory fragrant dream, so much angst (with comfort), soooo much feelings, sensory deprivation, sensory play, blindfolding, switch!raf, desperate rafayel, kinda withholding rafayel, clothes on in tub, p in v seggs, use of y/n, use of pet names

━ .ᐟ✧ LINKS: video | ao3 | xav's version | sylus's version | zayne's version

━ ✧.˖ A/N: RAF IS HERE! sooooo this one is a long one. each one of my misty invasions got longer and longer, i am a menace to myself. but this one made sense, i felt as if raf’s misty invasion had the most lore subtly stitched into it and you guys know i always try and explore some angst/lore <3 i am very happy and excited to finally close out the misty invasion series. 

i’m going to be taking a much needed break after this. i’ll likely still be writing, but slowly and in my own time. I had a brief period of motivation, after the clarity of sharing my story, but now i am back to being anxious and exhausted.

that being said, please do not send anyone hate in my name or in my defense. I have never and will never ask for that. it’s enough that i have your support, i don’t need more than that. 

special thank you to my friend @myusuchaa for helping me SO much with the rafayel lore. definitely the biggest fish forker i know <3

as always, if i missed any warnings or used too specific physical descriptors, let me know and i can do better! thank you guys for your support. i love you!

THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL NEVER POST MY FICS ON OTHER TUMBLR BLOGS. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND ON AO3.

✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖ nsfw | minors dni | 18+ only | minors dni | nsfw ✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖

“Do you feel lonely in this world that is totally different from yours?”

—

It’d been a beautiful summer day, riding bicycles along the Italian coast of Verona. Rafayel had just finished his piece for an art exhibition in the capital of the picturesque city, and you’d had time to soak in the summer breeze with each other. The air was wonderfully salty, just enough to remind you of the sea itself. Of Rafayel. 

It hadn’t truly surprised you when you’d found out Rafayel had lived here before, especially now knowing his Lemurian roots. Something about the way he walked through the Veronian brick paved roads, the rustic wind tousling his beachy waves, the cloudy sun shining on his effervescent skin. Like he’d belonged here, once upon a time. 

It was the perfect day.

Even when you’d teased him about the Lemurian who’d dissipated into sea foam for a mere human, and Rafayel’s expression misted over with a melancholic nostalgia. When his eyes glazed over with a torrent of inexplicable emotions, he could tell you wanted to prod him about it. But you didn’t, and for that he was incredibly grateful. There was a part of him that longed for you to know, to remember, the truth of that story. But he couldn’t trust you with that part of him again. Not yet. 

Even then, it was a perfect day. The two of you in Verona, the city of Romeo and Juliet. 

Two ill-fated lovers. 

It was perfect, he was perfect. 

Until you asked him that question. 

“Do you feel lonely in this world that is totally different from yours?”

Suddenly, Rafayel couldn’t look you in the eyes. Even when the rain droplets had started to patter onto your sun kissed skin, Rafayel holding you close under his favorite cardigan to shelter you from the onslaught of crystalline water. He couldn’t look at you. He refused to look at you.

If he did, you might’ve seen the tumultuous storm flickering in his eyes. The violets in his irises bright with unshed tears, the blues dark with a bitter loneliness. 

He didn’t speak to you the entire way back to your hotel, heading straight to the bathroom. At first you think that perhaps he’s upset with you, but he only draws you a warm bath in the luxurious clawfoot tub overlooking the Italian night lights. 

When he finally does speak to you, peeling off his layers of soaked clothing, you can tell he’s masking his true emotions under a facade of classic Rafayel sarcasm. Joking about whether he should write a Lemurian handbook for you or just read you 1,001 Lemurian stories. But he surprises you when his voice cracks with a raw genuineness, one that’s masked under layers and layers of hesitancy and loneliness. You can’t quite understand it.

“You can be my caretaker. And I can tell you 1,001 stories,” he mutters, eyes trained on the ground once more, voice soft and vulnerable. 

“I’m okay with every choice you provide,” he continues as he peels your wet jacket off your shoulders innocently. When his hand reaches the inside of your coat, grazing against your exposed waist, he pulls his hand back. His face is a storm of conflicted torment.

“...But you should take a warm bath first. Or else you’ll catch a cold.”

As he turns to leave, the sight of his lean and muscled back making you blush, you muster all your courage and call out to him, “You can’t leave. You still haven’t answered my question.”

You catch his wrist, using all your force to pull him back. Rafayel stiffens, unable to catch himself before he tumbles backwards into the filled tub. 

He’s able to protect his head from hitting the edge of the tub, the water sloshing around and splashing onto the tiled bathroom floor. Rafayel sits in the tub, not a semblance of annoyance on his face. Instead he looks flustered, the warm water clinging to his defined muscles.

“Do you want me to stay?”

Rafayel’s hair is disheveled, the water making clumps of his damp hair stick to his wet skin. His eyes watch you with inscrutable emotions, waiting for you to speak. 

You don’t answer his question, instead asking one of your own.

“You can spare me the details, but there’s something important you should tell me…” you hum, walking to his side by the tub, leaning over him, “How do Lemurians express love?”

Rafayel looks startled by your question for a second before composing himself, “Do you really want to know?” The fragrant candles in the bathroom flicker, the steam of the bath dancing against the soft flames. His words seem less like a genuine question…and more like a vague warning. 

Before you can respond, Rafayel’s fingers are closed around your wrist, tugging you into the tub on top of him. You squeal as Rafayel guides your body onto his, the violent crashing of water loud against the soft sound of the rain against the large glass windows.

Rafayel looks smug, his hand holding yours against his chest. You’re messily sprawled across his half naked body when he shifts you off of him so that he can sit next to you, his strong arm wrapping around your body. The warm water is uncomfortable against your still half-clothed body, but you can only focus on the way Rafayel holds your fingers up to his mouth, pressing a kiss into the back of your hand like you were royalty. 

“When Lemurians fall in love with someone…” Rafayel mutters, his warm breath fanning against your hand, “All our senses are committed to perceive them without question.” His eyes are intense as he speaks to you, hoping to convey even an ounce of the love he speaks so honestly of. 

You raise an eyebrow at him, “Your senses? Like…this?” You untangle your hand from his, bringing your index finger up to his lips. You barely graze his pouty bottom lip before he’s panting, struggling to speak. 

“...Your way of triggering my “senses” has only touched the surface,” he mutters sulkily, yet he has to look away from you, cheeks rosy at your mere touch. He grabs your hand, eyes locked back onto yours giving you a silent warning. 

But you only proceed further, your fingers grasping his chin, your eyes peering up at him with a faux innocence. It’s not long before your fingers wander south, pressing into his heaving chest, flitting around his sharp collarbones. Rafayel’s reaction only fuels you with mischief and confidence, the way his breath matches his heartbeat: fast, erratic, and demanding. 

He looks at you with almost…disbelief. Disbelief at your actions, but more so disbelief at the way your simplest touches can have his body reacting so viscerally. It was a testament of just how much the dark-mauve haired Lemurian loved you, his every sense reacting to you so readily.

“...Are all humans idiots?” Rafayel grits, refusing to look at you again. But his body betrays his words when your hand ventures further down. You’re barely able to register the shocked expression on his flushed face before your back is pressed into the edge of the tub, the water splashing wilding as Rafayel hovers atop you.

He’s careful not to press his body into you, knowing he’d be an absolute goner once he felt your core against his. His thick muscles twitch angrily as he holds you down against the back of the tub, your hand clutching his shoulder for support against his erratic actions. 

“Someone’s intentions are as clear as day,” he accuses you. Though his words hold not even an ounce of ill-intention, he narrows his eyes at you. Just then, the rain outside turns into lightning, briefly illuminating Rafayel’s ethereal features. The flash of light accentuates the tempest that’s brewing in suspicious eyes. 

As you watch the turmoil flicker in them, you suddenly think maybe you pushed too far, “Do you not like it?” Your voice comes out more insecure than you’d wanted it to, suddenly aware of how forward you were being.

Rafayel sighs, pausing before his voice comes out pained, “If I said I didn’t, would you stop?” 

At the hint of anguish in his voice, you move to pull your hand away. But Rafayel’s hand abandons its grip on the tub to clasp against your hand, holding it tighter against his neck, refusing to let you go.

You gasp, as his movements cause the warm water to swash around. With his forceful hand over yours, your flushed skin prickles against his alarmingly chilly skin. 

“Rafayel, your body is so cold!” you whisper worriedly, fearing he might be catching a cold. For a second you forget that he’s Lemurian, accustomed to the frigid depths of the ocean. As your eyes search his anxiously, hand still gripping his cold shoulder, Rafayel’s own eyes watch yours meticulously. 

The swirls of blue and pink in his eyes have always been breathtaking, like the perfect mix of the most expensive paints. But now, as he watches you with the depth of the whole Lemurian oceans in his eyes, you’re completely speechless to the flickering of rampant passion behind them. 

That is until he grabs your chin roughly. Rafayel was no stranger to taking what he wanted, but this was different. The way he grabbed you screamed of…insecurity. Demanding, but unsure all the same. His cheeks are tinged the prettiest of coral pinks, his bottom lip jutting out ever so slightly as he closes the distances between your faces. Quickly, so he can’t change his mind. 

His soft lips slot over yours in a bruising embrace of passion, need, and unwavering longing. There’s something mind numbing about how gently his lips take yours, yet the pads of his fingers hold your chin so forcibly, as if afraid you’d slip into the depths of the water and disappear from his arms forever. 

The thunder rumbles deafeningly but all you can hear is Rafayel. He pants into you, his mouth claiming every inch of your lips, of your tongue. He kisses you like he knows nothing else, like he feels nothing else. 

He doesn’t let you go, although you’d never want him to. You only want him to hold you tighter, pull you closer, take you harder. You want to protest when he finally pulls away, gasping as a thin rope of saliva connects your parted and bruised lips.

Flashes of light illuminate his face, making him look as ethereal as the sirens warned about in ancient tales and myths. He hesitates to speak, trying to find the words to convey the emotions he’s been trying to control since the memories of Verona had begun to overwhelm him. The memories of his past. His past with you.

“And you’re warm,” he pants, still trying to catch his breath. His heart was pounding painfully, his body always so willing to react to you. All his senses, always so hyper aware of you, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. His thumb strokes your glistening bottom lip, fingers still holding your chin captive. His eyes watch you with an unbearable longing, the previously intense crinkle in them softened to a tender vulnerability. 

“So perfect for me.”

Butterflies wriggle in your tummy, and you reach your wet hands reach up to cup his cheeks. 

“Rafayel, you seem different…” you mumble, stroking the cold and smooth expanse of his cheek. He looks down, avoiding your gaze, clearly grappling with a turmoil of intrusive emotions and memories. Despite that all, his face softens under your touch, even unbeknownst to him. 

Before you can ask him what’s on his mind, he’s rubbing his cheeks into your palms. The warmth of your affectionate embrace makes it difficult for Rafayel to think clearly, and he can’t stop himself from whispering, “Will you still love me no matter who I become?”

You’re speechless at the blatant insecurity in his voice, in his eyes. Rafayel was always confident, years as a world-famous artist had made him self-assured in more ways than one. But now, as his shadowed and down-cast eyes searched yours desperately for an answer, you could see just how unsure he was. You could see the cracks forming in his polished shield, the fissure spider webbing uncontrollably, on the precipice of shattering completely. 

His eyes pierce yours, fully intending to get an answer from you. You don’t even think he notices how pouty he’s become, his bottom lip protruding in an tragically adorable show of just how badly he needs you to understand him. To love him. 

To remember him. 

Unable to withstand his paralyzing gaze any longer, you yank him down to you by the chain that hangs around his neck. The silver necklace matched the shimmering bracelet he’d gifted you, that currently sits on your own wrist. 

Rafayel grunts as you pull him closer, clearly taken aback. His gaze doesn’t lighten, only becoming more intense and heated as your breath grows more bated against his own parted lips. 

“You…” he grumbles, trailing off, eyes flickering down to the beautiful sheen across your lips, before they dart away, looking to where his fingers grip the edge of the porcelain white tub. The rosy blush that dusts his cheeks gives away just how much he yearns for more, more of you. 

You find him to be so irresistibly tortured that you can’t help but hook your arm around his neck, pulling him further down until your lips collide with his collar. If you can take even an ounce of his tumultuous pain away, you’d do it.

The thunder roars violently as you kiss him, the water in the tub splashing over and hitting the bathroom tile. Rafayel is quick to relent all control, letting you take every inch of him. His fingers thread into your hair as you kiss his sensitive chest, teeth nipping at the cold skin on his collar. His whimpering gasps are audible, fingers tugging at your damp hair, as you suckle torturously at his chest, no doubt leaving a reddened bruise. 

When he finally pulls away, there’s a clear look of reluctance on his beautiful features. You try and pull him back, and he briefly lets you before pulling back, the look of hesitation returning to his thunderous eyes. 

You give up, instead moving your finger to brush against the reddened hickey forming on his collar. Rafayel looks at you, pained and begging for mercy, as your fingernails graze over the sensitive skin. 

“When humans fall in love…” you hum, admiring the beautiful bruise, “We try to leave a unique mark on them.” 

At that precise moment, the moment you mention you’re in love with him, you can visibly see the fractured remnants of Rafayel’s walls come crashing down. He pants, eyes fixed on the way your hand presses over the right side of his chest, so dangerously close to where his heart was. To where his bond with you was etched into his very soul. 

In that very moment, a flip switches in Rafayel. His eyes burn, not with anguish or uncertainty, but with a dangerous desire.

“If you say so…” he rasps, leaning in until your breaths mingle into one. As his eyes flicker closed, lips ghosting along yours, he whispers, just before his lips claim yours. 

“Join me, then.” His lips press into yours, holding back as to not take you completely.

“Let’s drown in the ocean.” He inhales your torrid gasps, his words deceitfully simple. 

“Together.”

Rafayel kisses you, instantaneously consuming you. He pants into you, unable to soften the way his body reacts to you, the way his senses consume you until there’s nothing left of him. To him, loving you, losing you, and repeating the cycle…felt exactly like that.

Like drowning. 

He throws all that emotion into the way he kisses you. The embrace is so intense that it makes tears form in your eyes, emotions welling in your chest so tightly you fear you might burst. 

When he pulls away to breathe, you look up at him, “You never answered my question from earlier.”

Rafayel’s eyes widened, knowing exactly which question you were referring to. What he didn’t expect was for you to be so direct. His eyes dart around, but you hold his face in your palms before he can physically turn away. He opens his mouth to speak, before pursing his lips again in hesitation. 

You gently prod him, fingers stroking his locked jaw, “Raf?” 

“It…” he starts, eyes crackling with emotions. Rafayel struggles to find the words. He knows exactly what he wants to tell you, but can’t find the words to express it to you. 

It’s not that he wanted to be withholding, least of all with you. He would give you anything. He had given you everything, time and time again. To the point where it destroyed him. 

But the fear of having it all taken away, again, had made him so reluctant to lean back into the wind, like he’d done so many times in the past. Too scared of how much of himself he’d lose again in the never-ending cycle of falling irrevocably in love with you. 

And yet, as much as it took from him, it didn’t matter. Because you were everything to him.

“In this human world…it’s not difficult for a Lemurian to become lonely,” he laments wistfully, eyes misted with a faraway look. 

He continues. “But in all the lives I’ve lived, I almost never felt lonely,” Rafayel gently smiles at you, a smile filled with a wistful sorrow. 

“Really? Why?” you ask genuinely, still soothing his hardened jaw. His features had softened considerably as he peered down at your wet form, the tension between his legs growing visibly.

Rafayel chuckles. His answer was simple. 

Because, there was always you. 

But that was a tale for another time. 

“Are you trying to trick a foolish Lemurian into giving up all his secrets again, my little human?” he whispers huskily, leaning down to kiss at the skin under your ear. 

You’re about to ask him what he means by again, but the words die on your tongue when Rafayel sinks his teeth into your neck. His fingers find the buttons of your drenched top, unbuttoning it feverishly, desperately shedding your layers of clothing off of you.

Before you know it, you’re naked in Rafayel’s arms, his own bare manhood pressed insistently into your inner thighs, dangerously close to your core. Though the rest of his body is chilly from the rainwater, his throbbing erection burns against your skin. Even submerged in water, you can feel his pre cum oozing onto your leg, hot and thick.

His lips trail down your shivering body, kissing the grooves of your collar, teeth grazing the swell of your breasts. He’s nearly heaving, gasping for air like he can’t breathe. And truthfully, he couldn’t.

The dam of his emotional barriers absolutely decimated, the flood of his unabated passion overwhelming his senses. There is only you. The smell, the sound, the feeling, the sight, the taste of you. 

A Lemurian in love. Utterly, brokenly, and wholeheartedly. 

You try to match his intensity, pulling at his soft and wavy hair, drawing him closer to your naked body. You thrust your chest towards him, wanting him to claim you like he’d done so many times before. 

Rafayel chuckles at your obvious desires, but more than willing to oblige. His Queen. 

His lips close over your breast, his lips cold but his tongue wet and hot against your nipple. The warm water splashes messily against your clashing bodies. The lightning outside flashes, the shadows of your lewd acts dancing against the bathroom walls.

“Nnghnh, R-Raf!” you wail, his skilled mouth devouring you whole. Your spine arches into his demanding mouth, the wet splashes of the bath and the ravenous slurps filling the acoustics of the hotel bathroom. 

The pleasure of his tongue is so intense that your body can’t help but squirm backwards. Rafayel chuckles almost cynically, as he captures the back of your neck with his long and slender fingers. 

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re trying to run away from me,” he pouts, leveling with your drooping eyes, body already delirious from the pleasure Rafayel knows how to bring you. 

“Hey,” he murmurs, bringing your chin up so that your eyes meet, “Don’t make me wait anymore, please.” 

You can’t help but smile at his adorable pout, his eyebrows furrowed in a sulky plea. You wrap your hands around the back of his neck, twirling his wavy hair into your fingers, bringing him closer until your foreheads are pressed together. 

“I don’t want to wait either,” you whisper breathlessly against him, his face so close you can feel the length of his eyelashes against your cheek.

Rafayel gulps, his neck bobbing with the pressure of how forcefully he has to restrain his senses, restrain himself. It’s so clear how vulnerable he is to your every whim, so you take the opportunity to push him below you. His glimmering eyes shine with confusion, but he lets you climb atop him, hissing when your slick cunt presses down on his cock.

“What are you doing, Miss?”

You don’t answer, leaning over the tub to grab Rafayel’s damp cardigan, bringing it up to his face. He raises an eyebrow in question at you, his palms resting in the fat of your hips as your bare pussy drags against his pelvis. 

“Do you trust me?” you grin playfully at him, spreading the cardigan out and preparing to use it as a makeshift blindfold. Rafayel seems to know exactly what you’re planning. He looks up at you, inexplicable emotions reflected in his glassy eyes. 

“I do,” he whispers finally. His worlds are simple, yet something about them rips through your consciousness, filling you with a torrent of bittersweet fractures of a lost memory. 

A memory of another time Rafayel told you those same words.

I do.

Rafayel can read the confusion in your eyes, and squeezes your hips reassuringly. You’re shaken from the confusion of your mind-bending memories. Trying to focus on the moment at hand, you clear your throat and carefully tie the soft and expensive cardigan around Rafayel’s head, effectively cutting off his vision.

You lean down to whisper against his ears, lobes pink with excitement and anticipation.

“Let me show you what else humans do when we’re in love.”

Rafaye’s entire body quakes, his chest rising rapidly at your unabashed words. His fingers dig into your hips as he does his best to limit his embarrassingly visceral reactions to your body. With his vision limited, all his other senses are heightened to your will. 

With your lips at this ear, your neck is exposed to him. The smell of your pheromones mixed with your perfume clouds his thoughts, the urge to drive his teeth into your pulse so unbelievably overwhelming. But your palm on his chest pushes him down, your lips trailing down his ear, down his neck, and to his chest. 

With his eyes covered, his skin is all the more sensitive to your touch, 

“Please,” Rafayel rasps, nails digging into your thighs, “Please. I can’t wait anymore.”

You giggle at how adorably needy he’s become. You can tell just how much the blindfold affects him, his body more readily reactive to your lips, your fingers, your words.

Even with his eyes covered, Rafayel can’t help but pout. The inability to see you, his beautiful Queen, made him all the more desperate.

You decide to indulge him, fist closing around his cock under the water. Rafayel’s hips jolt violently, his lower half lifting to chase the friction of your soft hand. While he cries out in pleasure, you kiss down to where the water meets his defined chest.

“O-oh fuuck,” Rafayel hisses, his head thrown back on the edge of the tub, neck straining into the cool ceramic. His hips buck up into your fist wildly, your hand moving far too languidly for his taste. You continue to tease him slowly, his cock and your hand completely submerged under the surface of the water. He whimpers, teeth digging into his bottom lip, continuously thrusting up into your hand.

You take his desperation as an opportunity to torture him more, moving as gently as you can so that you can move up to his ear without him noticing. With your hand still pumping his oozing cock under the water, you whisper into his ear, letting your tongue graze his earlobe.

“When humans love someone…we want to make them feel good,” you whisper seductively into his ear, purposely letting your words come out in hot breaths. Rafayel jolts and squirms in response, fingers gripping the edge of the tub until his knuckles are pale white. 

“Sh-shiit,” he hisses breathlessly as your hand pumps up and down faster, the movements causing the water to ripple. His muscles flex under your touch, shining with a wet sheen against the flashing glow of lightning. 

“So? Does it feel good, Raf?” you murmur into his neck, pressing a chaste kiss to where his throat bobs with the heavy beat of his pulse. 

He thrusts himself into your hand violently, voice coming out in a gravelly groan, “Yes. You always feel so fucking good. S-so soft.”

Surprising him again, you take his lips into yours, insistently pushing your tongue into his mouth, all the while your fist continues to jerk him off. You catch every one of his unabashed moans with your own mouth, the muffled sounds of his pleasure mixing with the thundering storm outside.

It’s a furious clashing of saliva, teeth, and pure unfiltered passion. His fingers digging into your waist, your fingers squeezing his cock so tightly it threatens to have him spilling all over you and the filled tub. 

When you pull away, the spit dribbles down Rafayel’s chin and onto his damp chest. He looks adorably flustered, the cardigan still covering his eyes. With his sight gone, the feeling of your tongue against his, your fingers wrapped around his cock, your plush thighs against his twitching muscles is all the more intense. His body, all the more pliant for you. 

“Hah – if you keep going, I’m g-gonna–”

He doesn’t even have time to finish his words when his cock lurches in your greedy hands, thick and burning rivulets of cum shooting into the lukewarm bathwater. It’s strangely beautiful, like a ribbon of iridescent pearls. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Rafayel gasps, nearly choking over his own rapid breath, his fingers gripping the edges of the tub.

His body convulses with his orgasm, a broken mantra of swears and lewd groans the only thing audible even in the roar of the storm outside. 

“Nnnghnh – b-baby,” Rafayel whines as you pump him through a mind-numbing overstimulation, desperate to see you. But you don’t stop, only giggling as you watch even more cum spurt from his angry pink tip. 

In a sudden flash of splashing water and strong fingers gripping your thighs, you find yourself under Rafayel again, his hand holding the back of your neck protectively as he slams you into the edge of the tub. His cardigan no longer covers his eyes, likely discarded somewhere on the wet floor.

Your eyes are wide from the whiplash of his sudden movements, “Rafayel?”

His sunset eyes blaze wildly as he watches you, the sight of you so utterly indulgent and overwhelming after having his vision returned to him. 

“Will you let me worship you?” 

His question is vulnerable, desperate. He looks at you so damn hopefully that it’d be impossible to say no even if some insane part of you wanted to. 

You reach up to clasp his cheek in your hands, pulling him closer until your noses brush against each other, “Yes, always.”

With the breathy desperate utterance of consent leaving your lips, fanning across his open mouth, he loses it.

He forces your thighs wider, gripping you by the fat of your hips and dragging you towards him until your bare cunt brushes right against once-again hard erection. You were used to Rafayel’s virtually non-existent refractory period, his cock upright and commanding attention so quickly after his orgasm.

The lukewarm bath water makes every touch feel much more fluid, all the more intimate and sensitive. Your grip the edges of the tub for support, Rafayel’s movements erratic and unpredictable. He leans down towards you, your bodies as close as the confines of the tub will allow. 

“My Queen,” he mutters under his breath like a vow, shifting to line himself up with your entrance. Without another warning, he pushes himself into you. 

You squeal at the stretch, your arousal making it easy for him to push into you completely. Rafayel groans as he enters you, his head thrown back in ecstasy, his large hands wrapped around your thighs. 

Rafayel is absolutely not shy with his cries of pleasure. His body shudders even though he hasn’t moved since seating himself fully inside of your warm and impossibly tight walls. 

When he doesn’t move, you screw your eyes open in confusion, doing your best to speak through the wonderful stretch of his cock inside your quivering walls, “R-Raf? Are you okay?”

Rafayel doesn’t speak, but the glow of the storm outside illuminates the way his throat bobs, every fiber of his body overstimulated with the pleasure of your body gripping his, refusing to let go.

You move to shift towards him, worried about the way he’s locked up, but that only causes your body to involuntarily squeeze around him. Rafayel hisses, pushing you back down gently, his fingers caressing your cheek.

“I-I just need a second.”

“A-are you okay?” you ask worriedly.

“You’re so tight, so warm,” Rafayel chokes out, his fingers tightening around your cheek and thigh. You can vaguely feel his cock growing inside you, and it’s then you realize he’s paralyzed, not by hesitation or pain, but pleasure.

You can’t stop yourself from teasing him, clenching down on his manhood snug inside you. Rafayel moans, his hands coming down to grip your thighs in a silent warning.

“No more teasing me,” he cautions with a pout, one hand shifting to rest on your naval. At your mischievous grin, Rafayel presses down. 

You cry out, eyes rolling back as he forces the walls of your pussy to rub against his cock. Rafayel wants to smirk at your helpless writhing, but the sensation is also overwhelming for him. His body heaves, nearly collapsing on top of you, only catching himself by gripping the sides of the tub.

Your fingers wrap around his trembling biceps, eyes urging him to take you.

Rafayel swears, obliging at the fucked-out look in your eyes. He unsheathes himself fully from your addicting gummy walls, barely even leaving his tip in, before shoving himself back into you.

The newfound vigor of his thrusts makes the water in the tub slosh wildly, splashing all over your face and hair. But you could care less, because the feeling of his excitement bruising its way in and out of your throbbing cunt is literally all you can think about. Pathetic moans of pleasure, the only sound you can make.

Rafayel fares no better, strings of beautiful grunts leaving his own lips. His pelvis slams into your soft inner thighs, the sound of the water against your colliding skin sinfully mixing with your combined moans. 

“You’re so – nghnh – perfect for me, Y/N,” Rafayel groans as he drives into you, the tip of his cockhead brushing into your cervix and g-spot all at once, at every thrust. 

His hands clutching the tub on either side of your head cage you in, making it so the only thing you can focus on is him. And the only thing that his senses can perceive is you.

The only thing he can see is you, your tears mixing with the soapy water, the reddened love bites blossoming on your skin.

The smell of you heightened even against the fragrant scent of the bath soap, your pheromones driving him to the edge of insanity. 

Your wanton cries for him, fueling him to fuck you harder, the sounds of your sweet pleasure making his own noises come out unabashedly. 

The taste of you lingering on his tongue every time he bends down to capture your lips in his, saliva running down both your chins. 

But mostly…the feeling of your perfect walls constricting him, pulling him in, refusing to let go. The feeling of your hands, pressed deep into his twitching muscles. Your soft thighs locking him against your sopping cunt. 

God, he was so in love with you it was nearly pitiful. 

“You’ll always be my Queen,” Rafayel babbles, thrusts becoming erratic as he becomes overwhelmed by the bittersweet memories that’d resurfaced in Verona, “My entire heart.”

You nod vigorously at his words. “Always Raf,” you gasp, holding onto him as he pounds into you even harder, your spine thudding into the tub, the water cushioning the blows.

“You better never leave me,” he broods, putting every ounce of emotion into the way his cock claims every inch of your poor cunt. The word ‘again’ dies on his lips, the writhing artist above you opting to save that for another time.

“W-would – nnghnh – never leave you.”

His wild eyes focus on your words. He says simply, the subtleist hint of insecurity and doubt playing in his shaky voice, “I’m gonna – hah – hold you to that.”

You bob your head, wanting him to see how serious you are, see just how much he meant to you.

Your fingers venture to your clit, desperately pent up from all the sexual and emotional tension that’d built up from today. Rafayel doesn’t see you immediately, his head thrown back in a drawn out groan, his body glistening with sweat and bath water, chiseled muscles twitching with his impending release.

When he finally glances back down, he sees your fingers furiously pawing at your clit and he nearly growls at the sight beneath him.

His voice comes out broken and husky, uncharacteristically so for the normally charismatic and smooth-talking painter. He gently pushes your fingers away, his own lengthy and skilled fingers replacing yours.

“Let me,” he begs, hips stuttering as he nears his second release, “I’ll take care of you Y/N.”

His sweet words make you shiver, your body convulsing around him. Rafayel shudders as you grow tighter around him. It felt like you were nearly cutting off his circulation, in the best way. 

Rafayel’s fingers on your quivering bundle of nerves have you seeing lightning even with your eyes screwed tightly shut. He truly had the hands of a god, fingers slender and deft, the pads of his digits hardened from years of skilfully maneuvering expensive paint brushes. Your body was his canvas, and he’d spend hours creating art with you. 

“R-Rafayel, I’m soo – nngh – c-cloose,” you slur, your body arching into him, head thrown back until all you see is the ceiling above. 

Rafayel heaves at the sensation of you coming undone around him, his fingers still rubbing furiously. There’s a bright desperation in his glowing eyes, the need to see you cum on him as strong as the need to fill you up with his endless seed. 

As his body trembles above you, his fingers grip the tub so harshly his knuckles have turned taut and deathly white. 

“I-I’m close too, baby,” he groans, “Please, can I cum?”

You nod vigorously, wanting nothing more than to feel him release with you But Rafayel wants to hear you. 

“Say it, Y/N. Tell me,” he pleads, “I need to hear you.” His voice is so brokenly desperate it drives you closer to your release, the sound of his lewd pleas so utterly erotic. 

“Ra-Rafayel, n-need it s’bad. Shiiit – please!” you all but scream, his insistent fingers pushing you into your orgasm. 

Rafayel chews on his bottom lip as he watches how beautifully you explode on him, so unbelievably close to finishing himself. He desperately wanted to cum inside you, but he knew if he did that he would be at the point of no return. You’d very well spend the rest of your trip in Verona locked in your hotel room, his cock nestled inside you until you literally begged for mercy. And maybe not even then. 

So with every ounce of will he had left, he pulled out of you as he came, standing on his knees so he could wrap his fist firmly around his cock as he came. The force of his cum so strong it shot all over your damp breasts and even your face, your expression still contorted in the ecstasy of your climax. 

You watch in awe, your cunt convulsing around nothing, your orgasm tapering off, as Rafayel trembles through his own pleasure. His cum is hot as it splashes onto your wet body, some of it shooting into your hair. Honestly the sight of how powerfully his cock erupted makes your stomach lurch in arousal.

Rafayel whimpers through his endless orgasm, his fist pumping up and down as he finishes on you. You’re left quivering beneath his imposing body, mesmerized by the white ropes of cum that shoot from his angry red tip. 

When he finally finishes, his glassy eyes watch you, absolutely awestruck. He bends down, his forearms trembling as one grips the side of the tub, the other stroking your cheek. He catches a rivulet of his milky seed with his finger, grinning cheekily at your reddened face.

“I’ve never seen anything so damn beautiful.” 

If it’s even possible, your cheeks burn even more furiously. You swat his fingers away.

“Shut up,” you whine, looking around at your bodies, joined in the filled tub. You inwardly cringe when you notice there’s more pools of milky white fluid than there are bubbles at this point. The amount of cum he gave you every time was nothing short of a phenomenon. 

“It’s everywhere!” you shriek dramatically, hitting his chest above you, “We need to get cleaned up!”

Rafayel’s grin widens, and before you can ask him what he’s scheming, he uses the finger still on your cheek to smear his cum around.

“Rafayel!” you yelp, trying your best to inch away from his filthy fingers, coated in both your arousals, struggling due to the limited space of the tub.

“But you look so exquisite like this,” Rafayel murmurs, fingers capturing your chin, pulling you up to look at him, his eyes hazy and sated, “My beautiful Queen…”

He dips down to press a lingering kiss to parted lips, mouth hitched open in excitement. When he pulls away he grins playfully at you.

“Besides, it’s good for your skin. Lemurians have a lot of uses, you know.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, “Is that why your skin always looks so flawless?”

Rafayel’s cheeks flare, his eyes averting from yours, “Okay! Let’s get cleaned up shall we?”

You smile widely, unable to contain your fit of giggles. Your body shakes with your laughter, making the water ripple, “You’ve tried it haven’t you?”

Rafayel’s sheepish expression answers your question, “No! Shut up!”

“I knew it!”

© aeyumicore 2024.

.ᐟ✧ THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND AO3. i am not @/aeyumicores or @/aeyumiicore or any variations of my blog name.

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[ddejavvu]

Spring Fling - Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader (Part Six) (18+) / SERIES MASTERLIST

Summary: You should have known the ‘no refunds’ detail on the website for Spring Fling was a red flag. But you paid no mind to it, eager to be assigned a quick fuck for spring break. When the man that walks through your cabin door is none other than Jake 'Hangman' Seresin, your wildly infuriating fellow pilot, you have two choices: bicker the entire time and have a miserable spring break, or fuck.

Contents/Warnings: smut, minors dni. fem!reader, pilot!reader, enemies/rivals to lovers, lots and lots of arguing, could these two people be any less cooperative, sex seven ways to sunday and then some, seriously like so much smut it'll make your eyes bleed, makeouts, rough sex, oral (m+f receiving), penetrative sex, will add as i post

WC: 8.3k / navigation / inbox / summer of series

A/N: another very late installment! I am really, truly sorry that it has taken me this long to update this series. it's very near and dear to my heart but unfortunately I was just having a very hard time with my life and there wasn't much motivation for me to write anything. but i'm back and better than ever, and you can check out my 'summer of series' to see more upcoming content! thank you to those who waited, and welcome to any new readers <3 this is our longest chapter yet :o

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

Plowing through pizza has never been easier than it is now, because you’re so intent on stuffing your mouth full to impede your ability to answer prying questions that your lunch is gone in a matter of minutes. You consider swiping from Jake’s plate considering he’s taken at least ten percent of your lunch every day for as long as you’ve known him, but reciprocating any of this ‘love’ that Danica deludes may not work in your favor. 

You’re left to sit awkwardly back in your chair, no food to eat while the rest of your companions finish theirs at a reasonable pace. 

It’s noticeable, because everyone else is still making their way through pizza that’s thinner and stiffer than it should be, but not altogether bad. Jake and Daniel both side-eye you, but Daniel shifts forwards as he notices pizza sauce smeared over your cheek.

“Y/N, you’ve got-”

“I got it.” Jake cuts in, reaching out and nearly smacking you in the jaw in an effort to get his thumb over the stain. You jerk away, startled, but Jake already has red sauce on the pad of his thumb that he’s offering to you like you’re going to suck it off.

“Want it?” He grins, and your lips remain firmly sealed as you shake your head no.

“Fine, picky.” Jake shrugs, raising his hand to his mouth and taking his thumb between his lips himself. You watch as he sucks the pizza sauce off of his finger for longer than he needs to, eyes fixed so intently on yours that you’re almost certain he would rather be licking it directly off of your cheek.

You’re glad he hadn’t- you’d have smacked him with how wound up you are. You feel like a prey animal, cornered and shaking with nerves that could morph into aggression at a moment’s notice.

You turn back to your empty plate, ignoring the way that Jake tips a half-eaten piece of pizza your way.

“Don’t tell me you’re worried about cooties.” Jake raises a brow, “We accidentally used the same towel once after the beach.”

“And I showered twice when I got home to clean myself.” You recall the incident with grave resignation, remembering the look on Phoenix’s face when she’d spotted the sherbet stain on the corner of the towel you were wearing, one that Jake had put there earlier, just after his own shower. You’re not surprised he’s still bringing it up- just one more thing to needle you with, but you wish he wouldn’t.

“More for me.” He acquiesces, voice almost awkward before he takes another bite, and you look at Danica to see if she’s noticed only to find that she’s staring hard at Jake already.

Interesting.

You don’t know how to fill awkward silences with Jake, because there almost never are any. You’re too used to his loud, brash voice that once he gives in and rolls over, a sight you’ve rarely ever seen before, you feel unequipped to talk. You don’t talk to Jake- or you barely ever do, you mostly quip. And tease, and jab, and rib, and mock. Everything’s a dogfight with him, and the first to run out of bullets crashes and burns.

Jake’s not the type to crash and burn.

“I’m done.” Daniel leans back in his chair, a hand slung lazily over his stomach, “I think cruises are bad for me. I always overeat.”

“We could walk,” Danica suggests, “There’s some shops a few decks above us.”

“Oh, I’ve heard about the shops,” You scoff, feeling Jake’s shit-eating grin despite refusing to look at him, “I’m not interested, thank you.”

You expect pushback from Jake, but what you don’t expect is Danica, who seems to be making it her sacred mission to force you out of your comfort zone.

“Oh, come on. Please? You can shop with me.” She promises, reaching out a hand adorned with a delicate golden bracelet, “We can leave the boys behind.”

You’re still wary about her insistence into butting into your rivalry with Jake, but you wonder if perhaps she doesn’t want to be alone with Daniel the same way you don’t want to be alone with Jake. Maybe there’s pressure there that she can’t handle, or maybe there’s not and she doesn’t want to face the implications. 

You’d think signing up for a sex cruise would really take the emotional turmoil out of having sex.

“They’ll kill each other,” you take her hand, letting her squeeze yours tight, “And we can’t get new roommates so that’d really take the fun out of the whole sex cruise thing.”

“We can start at the candy shop,” She grins, tugging you to your feet, “I owe my niece some gummy bears.”

Danica reaches for her purse, a sweet baby blue over-the-shoulder bag that Daniel gently pushes her hand away from.

“I’ve got it.” He offers, smiling up at the both of you, “You two just have fun browsing and I can hold whatever you get.”

There’s an unmistakable grin on Danica’s face that she turns around to hide, something akin to a giddy schoolgirl at Daniel’s chivalry. It’s sweet, admittedly, but what’s less sweet is the way that Jake makes a grab for your own bag, already hooked over your shoulder.

“Gimme that.”

“What- no!” You scoff, stumbling backwards to avoid his grip, “That’s my bag!”

“I’m trying to carry it for you.” Jake insists, as stubborn as a mule, “Let go!”

“You’re mugging me!” You shriek, dragging Danica along with you when you finally wriggle out of his grip and making a mad dash for other side of the deck, “Danica, if we can make it to the stairs we can push him overboard!”

She giggles as you two run across the deck, probably something you shouldn’t be doing considering you’re poolside and adults, but something you do giddily anyways. Daniel and Jake jog to keep up, and neither wants to be around each other, but both want to be first to reach you. This means they keep pace, and when you pass a netted-in basketball court, your head turns to watch the players.

They’re nice to ogle. There’s men and women, but your eyes are drawn towards a particularly muscled man, tall and thick around the arms and thighs. He has your attention until he fully misses a shot, feet away from the basket, and you and Danica cringe in unison.

“He had me until that throw.” Danica admits, trying not to laugh so as not to attract any attention and hurt the man’s feelings, “Can you boys do better than that?”

It’s such clear bait that you assume both men will scoff at her, tease her for wanting to see their sweaty muscles and continue towards the interior door. Instead, Danica’s purse is handed rather unceremoniously back to her and Jake strips of his shirt. He doesn’t need to, but he does. Of course.

“I can run laps around him.” Jake vows, beelining for the entrance to the court while Daniel takes his flip-flops off for better leverage.

“Just sit and watch.” Daniel grins, pointing towards benches opposite the court, “Get some sun, and we’ll show you how it’s really done.”

“Men are dumb,” You sigh, watching the two you’re stuck with integrate themselves into the game already going, “They couldn’t tell that was on purpose?”

“Jake wants to show off for you. And Daniel, too.”

“They wants to show off for you, too.” You level her with a look that’s half exasperated, half self-conscious, “I’m not- I’m not trying to steal him away from you. Daniel, that is. You can have Jake- no returns.”

Danica grins, her smile glowing, “I’m not angry that Daniel likes you. I like you too. I just think you’re stupid.”

“Thank you.” You nod, hoping the conversation ends there. You turn towards the court, trying to track Daniel’s movement among the crowd, but latching onto Jake instead. He towers over most of the men on the court, and with his military muscles, most of them have no chance.

“I’m- sorry. For pushing. I just think,” Her voice takes on a wistful note, “I think you two could really be soulmates if you tried.”

“Soulmates don’t try,” You laugh, “That’s the whole point. They’re intrinsically made for each other. Perfect from the get-go.”

“You are made perfect for each other. You’re just acting stupid.” She clarifies, “You’re both stubborn, but that means you’ll match wits with him. He wouldn’t want someone who just gives in every time.”

“That’s certainly what he’s wanted in the past,” You scoff, “Woman after woman after woman who doesn’t bother to save herself from the most obviously sleazy pilot in the bar.”

“That’s why he never sees them again,” She nods, “Because they only satisfied him short-term. Men mature slower than women, did you know that? They’re still figuring things out, bless them. I think he’s starting to realize that hookups aren’t sustainable, and that he wants something long-term. And that’s not to say you can’t resent his dating history,” Danica gives you a meaningful glance, “I can understand why you would be slow to trust him. But he’s trying. He backed off at lunch, right?”

“Right before he tried to steal my purse.” You grumble, despite knowing she’s right. But still, attributing his uncharacteristic lack of an argument to love- that’s a notion you don’t want to even begin digesting.

“Men are dumb.” She reminds you, “I think he’s trying to show you that he’s changed, and that his ideals have too. You just need to let him. Give him a chance.”

“I’ve given him plenty of chances before,” You sigh, world-weary as you watch Daniel snake the ball from Jake, “How many is too many?”

“You might not know until you get hurt.” Danica levels with you, placing her hand atop yours once more, “But you won’t know how many it takes to work, either. Just- be casual.”

“Casual.” You raise a brow at her, “With Jake? He’s incapable of being casual about anything. Even when he tries you can see the muscles in his neck about to pop.”

“Yeah, I saw him almost jump Daniel in the pool.” She admits, watching as Jake slam-dunks the ball despite three pairs of hands clawing at him, attempting to slow or stop him, “Has he ever started a fistfight before?”

“He’s not- mean. Not like that, not- he’s classy, I guess.” It’s a word you wouldn’t normally attribute to Jake, but he doesn’t go around starting fights like a teenage boy, “He swears up and down he’s a southern gentleman.”

“A gentleman!” Danica laughs, “A gentleman who was staring at your ass in that bathing suit, earlier.”

“I figured. Whatever,” You shrug, “I chose it because it makes my ass look nice. It’s not Jake’s fault we ran into each other, I guess.”

“That’s why I’m sure you’re soulmates,” Danica confesses, “The same cabin, on the same sex cruise? And you hate each other? I see some sweet, sweet angry sex in your future.”

You laugh, despite yourself. You let yourself get carried away in girly giggles, and seeing the warmth in her expression makes a twinge of guilt flare up in your chest about the way you’d snapped at her earlier.

“Hey, I’m- sorry. I’m really sorry for freaking out on you earlier, Danica.” You murmur, eyes downcast as your smile fades, “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, if I did.”

“It’s okay.” Despite the way your face had dropped, hers only grows more tender, “I understand. Like I said, I shouldn’t have pushed. But I hope you know I’m not trying to make your life harder. I suppose I don’t have any business butting in, I just see two people that are afraid to be vulnerable around each other despite maybe having the capacity to love each other for eternity.”

You glare at her from beneath your lashes, and she throws up her hands in mock-surrender, “I said maybe!”

“Eternity is a long time.” You muse, focusing again on the basketball scrimmage happening before you. The nets blur your vision, but it’s clear that the men are working up a sweat. Jake makes another basket, and you notice desperation in the way that Daniel lunges for it after it falls.

It’s not his fault- navy men just do it better.

“That’s why destiny gave you a free trial.” Danica grins, “This week, you don’t have to wear your heart on your sleeve. He won’t, either. Just- be casual, like I said. Be receptive, I’m not asking you to fall all over him, just- watch him. Notice him. Look at what he does and think about why he does it. Yes, he did try to liberate your purse from your shoulder earlier like he was getting at your wallet. But he did it because Daniel did it for me much more gracefully a few seconds before. He’s trying simple things: sharing food, holding bags-” She grins conspiratorially at you, “Five bucks says he’ll try to hold the door for you when we go inside later. He’s testing the waters, okay? He’s trying to change, but like I said before, he’s afraid of being vulnerable around you just the same as you are around him, even if he doesn’t seem like it.”

“How do you know all of this?” You ask her, eyes narrowed as you study her from across the bench, “Are you some sort of all-seeing eye?”

“I asked him,” She blinks, simple as that, “And I’m not going to share everything he said, because I think it’ll come better from him, but I can at least tell you with one-hundred percent certainty that he’s trying. Just- be gentle with him, okay? Let him try.”

“He can try,” Your voice is weak as you watch Jake sink a third shot, “But I can’t guarantee I’ll care.”

“That’s okay. You’re afraid of him hurting you, he’s afraid he’s already hurt you too much. If you don’t want to be with him, that’s fair. Just give him one more chance.”

“One more.” You sigh, “But not for him. For you.”

“I’m glad I met you, Y/N,” Danica smiles, standing from the bench and offering you a hand, “Now, let’s get them out of there before they start punching each other.”

Jake and Daniel are, in fact, facing off. Daniel shoves roughly at Jake’s chest but he stands shorter than his opponent, so it looks almost comical when Jake doesn’t move an inch. His strong thighs keep him steady, and his eyes blaze with a challenge.

“Jake!” You call, but both heads turn your way, “Guys- let’s go shopping.”

“Fine.” Daniel grunts, elbowing past Jake towards the entrance to the court. You’re sure Jake has thoroughly gotten on his nerves- you know the feeling, but something about the way his tensed muscles make him look like a coiled spring makes you gravitate towards Jake instead.

“What did you do to him? He looks like he might punch someone in the face.”

“Yeah, me.” Jake redresses himself, fixing the asymmetrical waistband of his shorts and putting his shirt back into place, “He’s just mad he’s too short to dunk.”

“Poor Danica.” You hum as Daniel stalks three steps ahead of her, “I’m gonna walk with her.”

Jake doesn’t provide any arguments when you rush to catch up with your newfound friend.

“Men are scary when they’re angry.” You nudge your side against hers, speaking in a hushed whisper “Did he say anything to you?”

“No, but he’s sure not offering to hold my purse anymore,” Danica grins, “Men are so dramatic.”

“It’s part of our charm, ladies.” Jake pushes between you, gentler than Daniel would have done in his angered state, “And it seems Danny-boy has neglected his manly duties, so I’ll take this,” Jake plucks Danica’s purse carefully off of her shoulder, “And can I please hold your bag too, princess?”

“Thank you for not tackling me this time,” You glare at Jake, letting him sling your tote over the same shoulder Danica’s bag hangs from, “See? When you’re nice to women they like you.”

“Some of ‘em like me mean.” Jake shrugs, “But you lure more flies with honey, I guess..”

Jake watches Daniel push his way through the doors, and makes a grand gesture out of catching them before they can close and holding them open for the pair of you.

You owe Danica five bucks.

“After you, ladies.” Jake says, loud enough for Daniel to hear. It only tightens the muscles in his shoulders, and it makes you slow your pace, putting even more distance between you and him. 

Jake doesn’t realize until he’s already slamming into you from behind, and he steadies you with a hand on your shoulder, “Woah! Sorry. I thought you’d be beelining for the sex shop. What’s the holdup?”

Danica shoots him a lethal glare over her shoulder, and tugs you closer to her side.

“We are beelining for the sex shop,” She announces, and Daniel seems to remember he has company as he slows down, chest heaving with adrenaline, or rage, or indignance, or whatever Jake has injected into his veins, “We are going to have a lingerie fashion show and there are no boys allowed.”

“No, come on! I can squeeze in the dressing room with you guys! I’ll fit!” Jake protests, but you level him with a stern glare.

“If you come into the dressing room, you’re putting on a thong.” You warn him, but nothing can rattle Jake Seresin.

“No part of me would fit in a thong,” Jake declares, herding you all towards the elevators, “Front, back, wherever- I’ve got too much goin’ on down there.”

“A bra, then.” You counter, walking backwards into the empty elevator and letting your back hit the wall, “You’ve got a bigger chest than I do.”

“If that’s what tickles your fancy,” Jake shrugs, your bag and Danica’s pressed against the wall of the elevator as he plants himself opposite you, faced away from the doors, “Everybody’s got their thing. If yours is me in a bra, so be it.”

Danica giggles. Daniel presses the button for the floor that you need.

“I’d send it to the rest of the daggers.” You threaten, hearing the doors slide shut behind Jake, “Rooster would show Mav. Phoenix would obliterate you.”

“Don’t spread it around, it’s for your eyes only.” Jake scoffs as the elevator begins its ascent, “Keep it in your spank bank, Y/N.”

Instead of lifting five floors, the elevator only moves one. The doors open again, and Daniel groans almost inaudibly at the sight he’s met with. You peer around Jake’s side to see- a lot of people. There’s a lot of people trying to board the elevator, and you pair off, parting like the red sea to fit them in.

Danica slides over to Daniel’s side, who squishes himself into the corner closest to the buttons, offering to press them for the new passengers. Jake steps closer to you, caging you into your own corner.

He raises his brows, clearly suggestive, but you know he’s teasing. That’s the thing about Jake- his constant teasing irritates you, but you know it’s just that. Teasing. He’s kidding, which is why you roll your eyes when he presses himself flush against your body.

“O-kay. Do we really need to be this close?” You ask, but chancing a glance around his shoulder reveals that, yes, you do. You’re sure he’s shimmied closer on purpose, but the woman backed up against him hasn’t given him much of a choice either.

“Does this remind you of anything?” Jake murmurs under his breath, as the elevator doors scrape closed and you begin another ascent, hopefully four floors this time, “A certain tryst with a certain bearded man yesterday?”

“He wasn’t stepping on my toes,” You glance downwards, “And I wanted to kiss him.”

“Ouch.” Jake huffs, but he shuffles his feet backwards off of yours, “What are you really gonna look at in the sex shop?”

Be vulnerable. Danica’s voice echoes in your head, as dramatically as she’d been hoping, He’s trying, be open, be casual, let him.

“Maybe just a vibrator or something.” You mumble, taking care to keep your voice between the two of you even if it’s an adults-only environment, and meeting his eye with honesty you don’t often showcase around Jake, “I can’t say I really need anything but it’d be nice to browse, I guess.”

He nods, slow and attentive, taken aback because he’s just as new to listening as you are to conversing.

When you finally, painstakingly make your way up four floors of passengers trying to squeeze on and off every second, Jake lets you and Danica exit the elevator first. It had been uncomfortable, but convenient when Daniel was storming ahead of you- he and Jake had been kept apart, but now the two nearly bump shoulders again as they trail behind you.

Their array of shops is, admittedly, impressive at first glance, considering you’re in the middle of the ocean. You take pictures of the glittering lights to have as keepsakes, but far away from any cell service, you can’t show them off to your friends just yet.

“Gummy bears,” Danica reminds you, before you can wander off into whatever store catches your fancy, “You can get duty-free booze later, for now let me make sure my niece won’t kill me for coming back empty-handed.”

She pulls you towards the candy shop, and any doubts you’d had about a fanciful confectionary on board an all-adults ship disappear when you step inside.

There’s sex candy. 

You shouldn’t be surprised, because even an ice sculpture you’d spotted from across the deck earlier was shaped into a male torso with well-defined abs. There’s gummy candies in the shape of genitals, there’s chocolates meant to throw you into a hormone-fueled sex craze, there’s flavored condoms, there’s candy lingerie. 

There’s a very small section of actual candy, but it’s where you and Danica have to look for her niece’s gummy bears.

“These are fine,” She eyes the package warily, “There’s nothing adult I’m missing about these, is there?”

“No penises.” You promise, looking over the matte-plastic bag to ensure that even the patterning isn’t crude, “But I think it’s just about the only thing in there without them.”

“Y/N! Look at these!” Jake calls, proving your point when he holds up phallic lollipops, “Dick suckers!”

You suppose if there were ever a time and a place to shout that across a store, it’s here and now. But that doesn’t mean you don’t still cringe, and you duck behind Danica to examine a package on a low shelf, near the corner of the store.

It’s those sex chocolates you’ve seen advertised online, in greatly-exaggerated tiktok videos or tweets. All of the posts you’ve seen about them have been sponsored by the company, so you doubt its efficacy.

Still, you pick a package up and tuck it into a basket that’s stacked in the corner of the room.

“Good idea,” Danica grins, throwing her gummy bears into the cart, “We should see how much Jake’s willing to pay for.”

“If he buys them he’ll want to share,” You make some convoluted sound that’s somewhere between a groan and a laugh, “And I’m not sucking the same dick as him.”

Your basket slowly but surely starts to fill, until one of the packages falls when you turn to look at something Daniel’s pointing out to you.

“Oh-!” You turn to grab it, but there’s already someone there, and Jake shoots you a heavy glance from where he’s kneeling on the floor beside you. It’s a sight- you’re not sure he’s ever looked up at you instead of down, and something in your stomach tightens as he stands back up.

“It broke,” He nods to the chocolate Danica had added into your basket, a piece molded so that it can be tucked between your legs and cover your sex. It’s meant to make someone eat through it before they can eat you, but it’s snapped in half now, completely useless.

“We’ll pay for it,” Danica keeps it in her own grip, grabbing another one and reaching for a new basket, “But I do want one that’s still intact.”

“Don’t bother with one of those for us.” Jake tells you, heaving the basket out of your arms and into his own, “Wouldn’t hold me back for very long at all.”

“I’m sure it wouldn’t, Pussy Eater Extraordinaire,” You scoff, “Men always think they’re better at it than they are.”

“I’ve had nothing but glowing reviews,” Jake boasts, but his eye twitches slightly as he reconsiders his statement, “But- I’d trust your input more than theirs.”

“Why’s that?” You bite, “I’m a harsher critic?”

“Exactly.” Jake nods, “I’ll even take pointers if you’ve got any.”

“I’m pointing that way.” You raise your finger towards the cash register, “If you buy the candy lingerie I might be more inclined to let you see me in it.”

He blanches, “You’re serious?”

“See me, Seresin,” You point again to the register, “No touching, no eating.”

“I’ll take it.” He nearly trips over his feet, and Danica erupts with laughter as he pulls out his wallet.

“He really did it!” She gushes, “See? He wouldn’t be buying cherry-flavored condoms if he didn’t want you to use them on him.”

“I have no doubts that he wants to have sex with me.” You remind her, “It’s what comes after that I’m afraid of.”

“After one condom there’s another.” She points to the big number 10 on the side of the box, “In between rounds you can ask him what you guys are.”

She can tell you’re about to groan, because before you can she grabs both of your hands, looking imploringly at you, “Y/N, this is a sex cruise! Let loose. Even if he does tell the whole navy about you- which he won’t, you can tell the whole navy it happened on a sex cruise. That’s a completely valid reason to let him fuck your brains out! You came here to fuck, so fuck.”

“We’ll see,” You grumble, “Cherry’s not my favorite flavor.”

Jake’s total at the register is comically high, but you don’t feel bad because you two get the same paycheck, and as a specialized squadron you’re not exactly down on your luck. He makes no complaints, and pointedly keeps the bag in his own hand instead of letting Daniel fulfill his earlier promise.

“If I let him hold it he might throw it down on the ground during one of his temper tantrums,” Jake murmurs conspiratorially to you, and you appreciate that he has the good sense to keep his voice low, pitched only for your ears as you meander towards the next store, “The chocolate underpants don’t deserve to snap a second time.”

“He’s not gonna throw a temper tantrum,” You groan, “You have a way of getting on people’s nerves, you know that?”

“Okay? And I’ll admit I riled him up, but that’s no excuse to act like a kid. Stomping around, taking it out on you and Danica.”

You raise a brow at him, unimpressed, “Eerily similar to the way you used to act on the tarmac whenever one of us beat you in an exercise?”

Jake’s mouth tightens, “Used to. I grew up a little. When’s the last time I threw a fit?”

You want to reference one of his bursts of antagonistic energy from the past 48 hours, but you have to admit, he’s much more controlled than he would have been a few years ago. You promised Danica you’d give him a chance, so you’ll give him credit where credit is due.

You settle for a reluctant, “You’re getting better.”

It’s another awkward dance, his jutted-out chin pulling back and loosening from the way it had been clenched tight in irritation. It’s your wayward eyes, not meeting his own but not looking at the floor either, just- roaming behind him.

It just so happens that behind him is a very intricately designed vibrator.

You hadn’t paid much attention to your surroundings, but Danica and Daniel had given you and your apparent bickering a wide berth as they’d headed into the next store in the row. It’s the sex shop, you realize now, and you and Jake are facing off in the entrance.

It’s an awkward thing, debating character growth between a display of vibrators and a display of fleshlights. You suppose there’s one for each of you if this doesn’t work out.

“After you.” Jake offers, prodding your limp form into the shop when your legs struggle to work, “We can shop for tonight.”

“I’ll be using that tonight,” You point at a ball gag, “I don’t want to hear a word from you.”

“That won’t shut me up. Y’know, When Harry Met Sally is my sister’s favorite movie? I could take a page out of Meg Ryan’s book and start moaning loud enough for the neighbors to hear.”

“She did that in a diner,” You correct him, “And she did it with grace. You could never be Meg Ryan.”

“I couldn’t be Billy Crystal either.” Jake laments, “Turtlenecks don’t look good on me.”

Before you can fall back into the familiar pattern of quipping back and forth with Jake, an old rut in the road that’s familiar even if it digs its own trench deeper, he catches sight of something behind you and his face twists.

“What’s that supposed to do?”

It’s not technically a rose toy. It’s something similar, adjacent maybe, still made for suction and vaginal pleasure. 

“It stimulates suction. Y’know, on the clit?” You explain, and Jake’s face blanches on top of his aghast expression.

“It sucks on you? That sounds dangerous. ‘Sounds like someone’s gonna get their clit ripped off.”

“I’ll test it out and let you know,” You grin, plucking it off of the shelf and adding it into the handheld basket that Danica’s started, “Maybe I’ll do it when you’re sleeping tonight.”

“I’ll hear you anyways. I’m a light sleeper.” Jake reveals, and your stomach drops. Did he hear-? 

No.

He’d have made it known if he’d heard your.. predicament.

It’s Hangman, after all. If he had something on you, he’d use it.

You shake yourself out of your funk and watch as Danica and Daniel contemplate getting a strap-on. You respect him for being open to trying it, if he hasn’t already. Jake’s face hasn’t pinkened from its earlier shade of sheet-white, so you make the very mature decision to not teasingly suggest that you use one on him. 

Instead you turn towards the lingerie, eyeing a red set with stereotypical lace lining the edges.

“That’d look nice on you.” Jake follows where you lead, and though his comment is suggestive, it’s almost respectful, “I think you should get it.”

“It’s too expensive,” You wrinkle your nose, “Not for something paper-thin that you’re probably meant to rip off anyways.”

“I’ll be careful,” Jake vows, and now the cracks in his facade start to show, “I promise I’ll handle you like a gentleman, darlin’.”

You turn on your heel and glide over to Danica.

“He’s trying to disrobe me,” You inform her with a sigh, “When am I allowed to conclude that he’s not changing?”

“Just-” You miss the way that she glares daggers at him from across the store, “He’s trying to change. He won’t be a completely different man, remember- you have to adapt too. It’s a compromise.”

Unfortunately, she has a point. If Jake is changing- and that’s a big if, you’ll need to meet him somewhere in the middle. But this whole Jake-changing-for-you thing is still highly suspect, and though Danica’s insistence is beginning to wear through your hide, you’re not fully convinced.

“Fine.” You sigh, “But I’m still getting the rose toy in case he doesn’t work out.”

“I love my rose toy.” She admits with a grin, “But there’s nothing like getting woken up between your legs. It’s different when someone surprises you with it instead of you shoving the toy down there yourself.”

“I’d love to be woken up by oral.” Your teeth sink into your pillowy bottom lip, and Jake’s footsteps stop behind you where he’s caught up to your group. You miss the look he shares with Danica over your head.

You browse the sex shop for a fair amount of time, but there’s not as much fun to be had as there was in the candy shop. They had variety and exciting things you’d never seen before, and here- well, they have a lot of dildos, that’s for sure. There’s a bland feeling that comes over you as you pace shelves and shelves of the same sex toys, and you wind up with only the suction-based rose toy ripoff at the counter.

“Scoot-” Jake comes up behind you, gently pushing you aside instead of elbowing you out of the way as he extends his own card towards the reader, “I’ve got this one too.”

“No- you don’t have to buy me a sex toy, Jake!” You argue, but the reader is already beeping, having accepted his payment, “I was mostly teasing about the candies. I’m not using you as a sugar daddy- you don’t have to keep picking up my tabs.”

“I’m picking up this one,” Jake carefully tucks the bag into the larger one from the confectionary, “I want you to think of me every time you use it.”

Something terrible, horrible, and unwanted in your brain supplies that you’d already have done that. That the experience of being stuck with him on a boat, of waking up grinding against his thigh, of being at each other’s throats for days on end would have cemented itself into the fucktoy whether you wanted to or not. But that’s an intrusive thought you have no desire to express, and instead you fall silent, taking Danica’s advice of meeting in the middle.

This silence, and the troubling thoughts that induced it, follow you through the next few shops in the row, showcasing duty-free liquor, off-brand ‘designer’ purses, and perfume that all smells the same. Danica holds up samples and swatches, shows you jewelry and handbags, but there’s not much she can do to shake you out of your spiral.

Do you want to fuck Hangman?

No, you certainly don’t want to fuck Hangman. 

But Jake? 

This Jake, the one who’d splashed around with you in the pool and sensed your uneasiness towards Daniel’s outburst, offering his own soothing presence as a distraction. This Jake, the one who’d muscled down decades of manly Texan pride to call for a truce- something you never thought his competitive spirit would be capable of. This Jake, the one who tilts his chin towards the section of books he knows you prefer in their sparse bookstore- this one you could certainly attempt to get used to.

It’s a hard thing to swallow, when something threatens to upend the life you’ve precariously crafted for yourself. When something challenges your notions of true and false, when someone changes. Can people change? Can he change, can Jake really fix his behavior to the point where you’d want to not only fuck him, but date him? Dating Hangman is laughable. Dating Jake is- something you’ve never considered before.

It’s troubling, and your brow remains creased for the remainder of your shopping trip. There’s an underwhelming amount of stores, and you wander further out, down towards the casino at the end of the deck.

“I didn’t bring cash,” Jake’s hand flies to his wallet, “And I don’t trust a casino on a fuckboat with my credit card.”

“We should go back,” Danica agrees, turning to grab Daniel’s hand. He’s calmed now, perhaps embarrassed for his temper earlier, and turns soft eyes towards her as she asks, “Should we go get couples massages?”

Jake waits on you for an answer- that’s new. You tuck the information aside for processing later, and you shake your head wearily, “I need some fresh air. You guys can go without me.”

“Couple’s massage with an empty bed’s pretty sad.” Jake hums, the drawling lilt of his southern accent sweet like honey, “You two enjoy yourselves. I’ll take our stuff back to our room.”

There’s a chorus of agreements, and you bid Danica goodbye with a soft squeeze to her hand, and a sheepish smile from beneath your lashes.

“Trust him!” She urges in a whisper, disguising it as a hug, “We can meet up again later.”

“Tonight for drinks?” You ask, glancing at your phone and seeing that it’s hours into the afternoon, “I think I’d like a casual dinner after last night.”

“We can do casual.” Jake agrees, and you don’t miss the way he says we.

“Drinks,” She nods, and Daniel tries to meet your eyes where you’re trying to avoid his. 

Everything’s so complicated now. You wish Danica hadn’t managed to get into your head- you wish Jake was still the cocky pilot he was yesterday, or three years ago, or since the dawn of time. You wish you didn’t notice his strange behavior, you wish he’d go back to being irritating so you could be irritated with him. You wish you weren’t thinking more about Jake than you are about Daniel, your perfect man, and when you finally do meet his soulful eyes you can’t offer him anything more than a weak smile.

“See you later.” You hum, and there’s nothing to go in for- a hug seems sad, and a kiss seems showy. You fall back a few steps instead, bumping into Jake who’d been stationed behind you.

“Let’s go,” He hums, “Elevator’s at the other end.”

You walk in silence, and discomfort roils in your chest the longer Jake says nothing. Nothing, nothing at all, no poking, no prodding, no comments about the candy penises in the bag he’s carrying for you. Just- dead silence, and you’re still not used to Jake taking social cues from you. He’s loud, and he worms his way into every situation, so why is he failing to do so now, when you crave normalcy the most?

You’d almost forgotten that you were swimming before this, but your bikini resurfaces in your mind when someone in the elevator pays attention to it. His eyes glance downwards towards your chest, and the way that they narrow in focus makes your skin crawl. His gaze isn’t warm like Daniel’s or like-.

He’s eerie, long, sharp facial features making him look like the human equivalent to a dagger. His sharpened point needles at you, and you’re already shuffling back on your feet in the elevator when Jake throws an arm over your shoulder, effectively covering your breasts.

Glancing up at him reveals that he’s locked into a staring match with the man who’d been looking down your top, and Hangman always wins staring matches. His skin grows warm against your chest, and you marvel at the way his single arm manages to shield every sensual detail of your torso.

When the man finally looks away, defeated, Jake uses the arm to pull you back into his embrace, and this time, you don’t fight him on the proximity. You feel a rush of affection for him, uncommon but not unheard of, and you remember that deep down, he’s a good guy. He’s got faults, he’s got faults that you’re not sure he could ever mend, but at his core he’s got a heart worth loving. 

You don’t have time to thank him, because there’s still people in the elevator when the man disembarks, and Jake gets out only one floor after him.

“You’re going to the top deck?” He asks, having seen you press the topmost button on the panel, and you nod.

“I’ll let you get your fresh air.” He walks backwards out of the elevator, “I’ll stash this in our room and come meet you. Mini golf?”

“I’m down,” You nod without thinking just to agree with him, your throat dry as your skin chills in the absence of Jake’s body heat, “Jake-?”

He stops, brows raised. There’s people around you, waiting for their floors, and you sheepishly give up any hair-brained scheme you’d have planned for having an awkward heart-to-heart with the man who’d just protected you with his body.

“My bag.” You gesture to his arm, your tote still slung over it, “Can I have my bag?”

He grins, wide and pearly white, fumbling with the bags in his arms while keeping his foot in the door to stop the elevator from closing. You take it and he steps away, the doors instantly sliding shut on him. You watch as they close in front of his face, and retreating back into your corner of the elevator seems lonely now that there’s no one accompanying you.

No one says anything- why should they? They don’t know you. But the last thing you need is more silence, and the second the doors slide open on the top deck you’re rushing out onto the slippery flooring, beelining for the railing overlooking the water.

It’s the top deck, so it’s shorter and thinner than the rest below it. But it doesn’t matter- you’re afforded a truly stunning view of the ocean as you drink in lungfuls of sea air.

It’s never this pretty on a carrier ship. Maybe that’s because it’s work, or maybe that’s because of where you work, or maybe that’s because you’re always below deck anyways. This kind of a sunset is something you usually can’t find unless you’re soaring into it through the skies, and here you’re able to relax without being in control of an aircraft.

The clouds act as a Rorschach test. The longer you stare at them the more your mind runs wild, and you seem to find all of your problems in the sky despite having landed to get away from them.

Now you’ve got new ones- one day ago your biggest concern was getting laid. Now- well, you suppose your biggest concern is still getting laid. But now you wonder if you could ever muscle down your nerves enough to fuck Jake, or if you’re going to lay yourself bare for Daniel while thinking about your fellow pilot like you had in your dream last night.

This was meant to be an escape. A thoughtless, lust-driven week-long party that would cure you of your sex block and get you back into the groove.

How’d it all go so sideways?

You don’t hear the footsteps behind you, but you do feel Jake’s hand on your shoulder. His fingers, more like it, because two are perched on your shoulder and three are holding a yellow golf club and a pink ball. He’s got a green and blue pair in his other hand, and you try making your face look like you hadn’t just been searching for answers in the clouds.

“‘You ready for golf?” He asks, his voice far more chipper than yours, “They said they won’t charge us if we shoot one into the ocean.”

“Let’s try not to anyways,” You take the club from him, but swap him the pink ball for the green, “There’s people on the first hole. You wanna go backwards?”

“I’m a pro at mini golf anyways,” Jake scoffs, “Don’t need those practice courses.”

Pro Golfer Jake Seresin loses his ball right away.

It’s important to note that you hadn’t gotten a hole-in-one either, but Jake’s shot is especially horrendous. It veers so off-course that it ends up rolling off of the green altogether, and before either of you can reach it it drops from the deck onto the one below. It doesn’t go as far as the ocean, but it does happen to land right in some unfortunate woman’s drink, and she’s not happy about the bright pink disturbance to her mai tai.

“Sorry!” Jake calls, and you know any apology from him is sincere, or he wouldn’t say it, but she takes less-than-swimmingly to his seemingly casual tone, and she launches the ball with much better aim than he had.

Jake nearly tumbles over the railing as he crumples, groaning in pain at the way the ball had solidly whacked him between the legs. You’re torn between laughing, congratulating the woman, and helping Jake back away from the edge of the deck, so you do some convoluted mixture of all three.

You shoot the woman a dry smile as you tug him away from the railing, and he takes a minute just to breathe as you support his weight. He grimaces, but tries to turn it into one of his signature smirks, though it’s clearly forced as he remains doubled over.

“Hell of an arm on that chick.” He comments, voice heaving with either a laugh or a sob, but probably the latter, “Jesus, darlin’, y’think you could kiss it better for me?”

“I’ll make it worse,” You vow, brandishing the golf club in your fist for extra emphasis, “Sit down before you puke, Hangman.”

He listens, dropping to rest his back against the railing and tilt his head back towards the sky.

It just so happens that you’re skyward to him, and his head rolls so that he can gaze up at your face.

“This is not how I envisioned golfing to go.” He admits, his club laying defeated in the fake grass beside him. “For the record, I was going to tell you that your form was off, and then I was going to come up from behind you and grab your hands and guide you through a swing, all while hoping I could control the big guy downstairs.”

You snort at his admission, but for some reason it doesn’t make you indignant like it might have a day ago. You’re not sure what exactly has changed, just that it’s still changing, and that it would be far easier if it never had.

“How romantic.” You drop a hand onto his head, jostling it side-to-side now that he can’t stop you, “And I suppose this is us staring at the sunset together?”

“Sort of,” Jake shakes his head free of your palm, short-cut hair now wildly out of place.

“It is- funny. How we fly every day but can still stare at the sky.” You note, trying to lose yourself in the watercolor hues of the sky again, “Clouds aren’t any less captivating now than they were when I was 10.”

“It’s different here. We’re relaxing.” Jake hums, “Even if I’m gonna need to ice this later. We’re not doing a timed drill that involves tactical missiles.”

You suppose Jake’s not standing anytime soon so you hit the deck yourself, landing defeatedly beside him and letting your club rest in front of you, “I didn’t come here to relax. Or- I guess I kind of did? In between rounds.”

Jake laughs, and stretches his leg out to rest beside yours, “I came here to fuck. Obviously. But this is nice too.”

You feel a sudden rush of guilt. You’re secure in the fact that you don’t owe Jake anything, even if you’d been assigned as his roommate on this sex cruise. Of course, you hadn’t known he’d be your roommate, or you’d never have signed up, but neither had he. He’d been expecting some woman of his dreams, someone hot, curvy, and ready to open her legs for him, and he’d gotten you. You’re both, in your own ways, disappointments to each other.

“I’m sorry. By the way. That you got stuck with me.” You interrupt the silence after a moment, and only afterwards do you realize that it was a comfortable silence, not one of those tense, awkward things that shatter when broken. 

“Stuck with you?” Jake questions, but before he can spit out some half-baked, cheesy line about never being stuck with you, darlin’, you finish your speech.

“You came here to fuck.” You parrot his words, “And I’m not letting you, and I don’t have to let you, but you wanted to. So I’m sorry we’re each other’s roommates. I came here to fuck, too. And it sucks that we know each other, and that things are so complicated, and that we can’t just fuck like rabbits for a week. I’m sorry.”

Jake stays silent for a while, something that rarely happens with him. But it’s sincere, and when he finally speaks, it’s with a sigh and a nudge of his foot against yours.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to let me,” He agrees, “But- I’m enjoying myself even if we’re not fucking like rabbits.”

“You are?” You give him a sideways glance, “Even though we just drained your credit card and you’re unlikely to be able to reproduce?”

“Free vasectomy,” He grins, “And shopping was fun. And swimming was fun, and drinking was fun, and dinner was fun, and- being with you is fun sometimes.”

“You just had to throw the ‘sometimes’ in there, didn’t you Hangman?” This time, when you refer to him with his callsign, it’s not venomous. Instead, it’s almost fond, and you share a quiet laugh in unison as people mill around you, drinking and kissing and playing mini golf.

“I’m glad you’re having fun.” You sober up, “I’m- I think I’m having fun too.”

“I hope so. ‘Gotta get somethin’ out of this cruise, even if it’s not sex.”

“Jake?” You ask, keeping your head forward and ignoring the sense of deja vu that comes over you.

“Hm?”

“Thanks.” You hum, “For- for understanding that I’m not going to- and, for stopping that guy from looking at me earlier, and for buying me stuff at the shops, and- just. Thank you.”

His response is the thunk of his forehead against your shoulder, and he turns his head to watch the sunset with you through the railing at the opposite end of the deck.

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

[ourdawnishotterthanourday]

Rose Tinted — Boo Seungkwan

✧ Take off those rose colored glasses ✧

Plot: Picture this… you find out that your so-called best friend has been playing you all along.

🎥 Starring: fem!reader x best friend!Boo Seungkwan 🎥 Genre: big time angst 🎥 Word count: 0.9k+ 🎥 Warnings: swearing, asshole vernon, asshole kwannie (sorry y’all), brief mention of blood but not graphic 🎥 Notes: I am baaaack (hopefully for a while). I know I haven’t been posting for forever but I hope to see you all more often again ^^  🎥 Shout out: thanks to my lovely bestie @nothoughtsjustfic for motivating me to write again 💜 love you Chee! Never change pls hehehe

♡ REBLOGGING AND/OR FEEDBACK WOULD BE VERY MUCH APPRECIATED — DON'T BE A STRANGER PLS ♡

Set The Scene Masterlist —  Masterlist

“How much longer are you going to keep this up, dude? She’s been glued to your side since that dumb bet. Weren’t you gonna ditch her like forever ago?”

Time froze as you heard Vernon utter those words to your best friend… or so you thought. 

“Shit, Vernon! Be quiet before she hears you!” Seungkwan hissed in return, which was followed by a dull sound and then a shriek from Vernon.

“Whatever. I just don’t get it. You don’t even like her. She could offer to buy me unlimited pizza and beers and I still wouldn’t be able to handle all that clinginess.”

“Fucking hell! Just get out and don’t come back until we leave. You’re going to fuck up everything,” Seungkwan snapped, his voice unlike anything you’d ever heard coming from his lips. 

“Fine.” Vernon sighed dramatically. “But don’t come crying to me when it all comes to bite you in the ass.” 

A second later, you heard the front door slam shut, the sound of which snapped you right back to the horrible reality you were now forced to face. 

You’d just been shown a completely different side of your supposed best friend and you didn’t quite know whether to cry or scream. What you did know was that you couldn’t stay hidden behind the wall for forever, even though that did seem awfully tempting. You’d never been very confrontational but this matter couldn’t be left unspoken, not if you wanted to keep your sanity. 

You needed to hear the truth from Seungkwan himself. 

With your heart nearly pounding out your chest and a million thoughts running through your mind, you forced your legs to move in the direction of the living room where Seungkwan was awaiting your return. 

His head immediately shot up when he noticed you approaching him, a smile that felt just a little too forced making its way on his face. It was almost as if you could see a sliver of disgust flash behind his eyes.

Had that always been there or were you just overanalyzing everything because of what Vernon said?

“There you are! Any longer and I would have gotten worried.” Seungkwan chuckled as he turned his head back towards the TV.

Right. The movie the two of you had been watching before that awful conversation. If only you could turn back time. 

“Y/N?” Seungkwan asked with a raised brow when you hadn’t moved at all. “Aren’t you going to sit down? We can finish the last thirty minutes before we have to leave.”

“No.” 

Your voice was barely audible but you knew that it had been loud enough judging by the way Seungkwan responded.

“No? You don’t want to watch any more? Well, we can put on something else if that’s what you wan-”

You were quick to interrupt him. “No. That’s not what I want.”

“Okay?” He got up from the couch, his brows furrowed in confusion. “You’re acting kinda strange, Y/N. What’s going on?”

Without realizing it, you’d been clenching your fists so hard this entire time that your nails had pierced through parts of your skin, drawing a little bit of blood which you could feel dripping down your fingers. But you honestly couldn’t give a fuck right now. 

“Do you hate me?” you blurted out, completely catching the man in front of you off guard.

“W-what? Hate you? Why would you ask me that?” Seungkwan chuckled nervously, his hand awkwardly coming up to scratch behind his neck. 

“Be honest with me, Seungkwan.” You looked him dead in the eyes, noticing the way his eyes grew wide at the fierceness behind your words.

As if suddenly coming back to himself, he shook his head furiously. “You’re being crazy, Y/N.”

You let out a loud snort. “Me? Crazy? Then are you saying Vernon was lying just now?”

At that revelation, Seungkwan’s mouth opened and closed a few times as if he was about to say something but backed out at the last second. There was no talking himself out of this. And you were not backing down until you’d heard everything, even if it was going to crush you. 

“Yeah… I heard everything. About a supposed bet, about you pretending this entire time and wanting to ditch me. Does that ring a bell?” 

“Y/N, l-listen,” the man pleaded as he took a step forward to reach for your arm. 

“Tell me the fucking truth, Seungkwan!” you nearly screamed, surprising both yourself and him at the anger laced in your voice.

You could see the hesitation in his eyes at first, but it wasn’t long before that disgust you swore you’d seen before flashed behind his eyes once again. 

“You really wanna know what I think of you? Fine!” He threw up his hands. “I don’t like you, I never have, not then and not now. I’m not your fucking best friend and I’m sick of pretending. You’re right. It started out as a stupid bet to see if I could befriend you, but with how fucking desperate you were, that wasn’t hard. And then you just wouldn’t fucking go away so I thought, I might as well use your clingy ass to my advantage. Because who in their right mind doesn’t like free meals and free rides? All I had to do was pretend.” He chuckled bitterly. “Happy now?”

You didn’t stick around to respond, already halfway through the door with tears streaming down your face by the time he finished his cruel rant. This wasn’t the sweet and caring Seungkwan you’d been sharing all your secrets and insecurities with. This was the real Seungkwan, a mean, heartless excuse of a human being who you didn’t recognize at all. 

He’d broken your heart in a million little pieces and you didn’t know if you were ever going to recover from this. 

So much for letting someone in.

So much for not wanting to be alone. 

Boo Seungkwan, I hope it was worth it. 

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[xxwritemeastoryxx]

Monster Part 1

Author: xxwritemeastoryxx

Pairings: Eventual Damon Salvatore x Reader

Word Count: 3.4

Warnings: Day drinking, issues with fathers. Reader does have longer hair (long enough to place hair into a bun) but that's as descriptive as I get with this. Hair type and color never discussed.

Author’s Note: I really wanted to come back to this series. But there was so much going on with it that I couldn't just finish it and leave it as it is. So I'm rewriting it. Some details have changed and I'm fixing plot holes while I'm going. So if this is your first time reading Monster, welcome! If you've read the original and are back to enjoy the improved one, welcome back. I hope Monster still brings some kind of joy to your reading experience!

I do not and will not ever give permission for my fics to be copied and posted on other sites. Don’t do it. Don’t be that person that ruins it for me and everyone else.Feedback gives me life and motivation for future things. While likes are appreciated, reblogs are gold. Seriously, if you enjoyed this in the slightest, please reblog ♥

<< Monster Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Chapter 2 >>

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Damon’s voice held every ounce of annoyance in his voice. His attention had been on Elizabeth Forbes as he spoke.

It had only been a few hours after the new Mayor had taken office that the two found themselves standing in the middle of the Salvatore living room having this conversation. In that time span, things had been changing quickly through the town. From the Sheriff's perspective of the recent events of her day, things were about to take an interesting turn with the new changes she’d been informed of.

It was why she had come to the Salvatore’s in the first place. She knew it was better to keep Damon in the loop than for him to be caught blindsided by the changes or when the Mayor requests a meeting with him, whichever came first.

“There’s nothing more I can do to convince him.” Liz said as she placed her hands on her hips. “He’s doing this his way and creating a new council of his own. Founding Families or their status in this town mean nothing to him.”

“We must still have some kind of pull in this.” Damon shook his head trying to think of anything they could possibly do to keep them all in the loop. There was no way he was going to just allow them to be stuck waiting for things to happen.

Liz sighed. “Unless you are extremely close friends with any of the L/N family, there is no way to get into any of the council meetings yourself. Thankfully I’ve been friends with his sister for years and I’m still allowed access to these meetings. I’ll try to keep you guys updated as much as possible. I just have no idea how this is going to play out.”

A thought crossed Damon’s mind. “L/N. Besides the obvious, why else does that name sound familiar?”

It wasn’t a name he had heard on a daily basis while in Mystic Falls. He knew the L/Ns weren’t a part of the Founding Families. And up until the new Mayor came back into town, he couldn’t place where or how the name had sounded so familiar to him. It had been sticking out like a sore thumb in his mind without being able to place how he knew that name.

“His daughter was raised here in Mystic Falls.” Liz began. “She’s been the Aide to the Mayor for almost five years now. Richard Lockwood had been the one to hire her in. You may have seen her name just by looking at some of the paperwork you come across from the office.”

“Y/N.” A sigh passed his lips as he said her name. He knew who she was. He knew her from the occasional times he had seen her in passing. While he never spent a lot of time talking with her or even getting to know her, he knew who she was. “Why am I willing to bet anything that she is probably feeding her fad information that he needs to know about this town to make these new changes?”

Liz shook her head, not liking his line of thinking. “Let’s not jump to conclusions. I’ve known her since she was a baby and I can say with certainty that she knows nothing about the supernatural world. Her Aunt has kept her in the dark for a reason.”

“There’s only one way to find out for sure.” He noted as he grabbed his leather jacket off the armrest of the couch and tossed it on.

“Damon.” The warning was in her voice hinting how much she disagreed with whatever plan he had just concocted.

“What?” A smirk pulled at the corner of his lips. “It’s not like I’m going to go over there and kill her. I’m just going to have a friendly chat with her and see what I can possibly get out of her.”

“I’m telling you Damon, she’s innocent in this.” Liz shook her head. “Don’t do anything stupid to draw more attention to yourself.”

“I make no promises.” He called out as he made his way out the door. Just as he reached it, Stefan and Elena walked in. “Liz has some news for you.” He said the words as he walked past them. “I’m sure she’ll fill you in on where I’m going too.” He added before either of them could question him.

Y/N L/N had been sitting at the bar of the Mystic Grill. She held a drink in one hand with a pen in the other. Her eyes had been looking over the pile of paperwork that was sitting in front of her. Her hair had been pulled up into a neat bun that she had yet to take down since she had left the office over an hour ago. The heel of her shoes tapped against the stool as her leg bounced slightly.

While she was all for Mystic Falls getting a new Mayor, she hated all of the paperwork that now needed to be done. All of the paperwork that Mayor Lockwood had left unfinished needed to be compiled and brought to the office by tomorrow morning. Leave it to her father to make things a bit more difficult by also requesting specific files that she needed to track down. Many of them were decades old and she was almost positive that a majority were lost within the archives.

Her father. How much that thought made her stomach turn a bit. Her father, a man that she barely knew, had become the new Mayor of Mystic Falls. Before the rather quick elections, she hadn’t seen her father in a handful of decades. She couldn’t even remember the last time she had seen the man. Now she was going to be seeing him daily at work.

She almost quit the day he had been elected. But after some long and much needed persuasion from the other staff in the office, she didn’t. Her coworkers had been right, she knew the ins and outs of the office a lot more than anyone else would. A smooth transition between Mayors was better than the chaos that she’d leave behind if she quit. That didn’t mean she wasn’t going to be finding another job in the not so distant future.

From the corner of her eye she could see someone walk up to the bar beside her. It had happened a few times since she had sat down. From experience, she knew whoever it was would order their drink and leave moments later. She didn’t even bother moving her eyes away from the document she was reading.

“The last time I saw someone sitting here, working away as hard as you are, he became a drinking buddy of mine.”

Her head tilted slightly barely taking in the person now beside her before her eyes moved back to the document. “That position for me has been filled for quite some time. Not looking for another one.”

She knew exactly who she had been speaking to. Damon Salvatore definitely wasn’t a stranger to the town and she knew that. He was good looking and she’d bet her whole paycheck that he knew it and used it to his advantage. While she did have a bit of a weakness for the man with the gorgeous blue eyes, there had never been once that he actually took the time to notice her as she once hoped he would.

She could still feel the slight sting she felt after the most recent Founders Party. She had attempted to speak with him. Just a way to introduce herself and try to get to know the man. He had only given her vague answers before walking off to speak with Elena Gilbert. While Y/N wasn’t by any means a jealous person, she knew when a person only had eyes for someone else. She had decided then that she was better off not getting to know Damon.

“You can always have more than one drinking buddy.” Damon took a seat on the stool next to her.

He watched as her eyes scanned over the documents before placing a ‘sign here’ sticker on the page before she continued on reading a moment later. The hand that she was holding a glass in began lifting. It came up to her lips and she took a drink.

“Not interested.” She said as she placed the glass on the bar. Damon frowned at that and she hadn’t missed it. She held back the smirk that wanted to form on her lips as continued to focus on the page in front of her.

There was a part of her that felt satisfied that she could throw him off. It was obvious that he wasn’t used to someone ignoring his usual charm. And while it was easier to keep her guard up while speaking with him, there was that part of her that wanted to cave and give him her full attention. Attraction or not, she wasn’t sure she wanted to give into that part of herself. He could just be wanting to pass the time with and if there was one thing she knew, that never usually ended well. Not when it seemed he had been interested in someone else.

“Is there something I can help you with, Damon?” She asked a moment later as she fully turned to face him. She watched as his mouth opened slightly and closed soon after when he couldn’t get the words to pass his lips. The action itself had caused her eyebrow to raise slightly.

This definitely wasn’t what Damon was used to. He was used to women wanting to hang onto his every word without needing to use compulsion. Of course he knew he could do just that and compel her for the information. He could even just get her to tell her father that he needed to be on the council. But as his eyes caught the sight of a necklace hanging around her neck, he was almost positive it had vervain hidden within it.

“How about just having a drink or two with someone other than our drinking buddies?” He asked. He watched as her eyebrow raised once more and he put his hands up as if surrendering. “Just until you are done with work. I could really use an outside opinion on a few things.”

A soft chuckle passed her lips. “Isn’t that what the bartender is for?”

Damon looked over at Matt and grimaced slightly. “Yeah about that, he knows all about the problem. It wouldn’t really help with wanting an outsider’s opinion on my problems.”

She looked over at the paperwork for a moment before looking back at Damon and sighing. “Fine. You have until I am done with this stack.” She patted the paperwork in front of her as a smirk pulled at her lips. “And you’re paying for my tab as well.”

Damon chuckled, his own smirk pulling at his lips a moment later. “Deal.”

“You’re kidding right?” She asked with a laugh.

The paperwork had been finished for quite some time and put off to the side. The conversation had changed several subjects and kept her interest. She couldn’t bring herself to say it was time to leave when she was enjoying herself.

“Not at all. There are several stories I could tell you about how easy it can be to embarrass my brother.” He shook his head slightly. Damon had been telling her stories of his past that had kept her laughing.

He wasn’t sure when the subject had changed from what his ‘problem’ was, but she hadn’t seemed to mind it. It didn’t hurt that she was slightly buzzed from the alcohol she had been consuming. It made things more interesting and he couldn’t help but smile that she finally let him enough for him to start trying to get information out of her.

“That’s still not as bad as falling face first into a crowd at a festival in Richmond all because you were drunk enough to believe you could go crowd surfing.” She was shaking her head with a smile on her face. Her hand absentmindedly lifted and she ran her finger along a small scar that rested along her right temple.

“Oh, I would have paid to have seen that.” He said with a smile. “Now how exactly did the rebel child become the Mayor’s Aide?” His voice held curiosity. The whole time he had been speaking with her, he hadn’t brought up her job until now.

The smile she had moments ago fell at his question. “I was having a lot of problems out in Richmond. I thought I could do things on my own, but I found I just needed to come home. “ She sighed. “My Aunt had a job interview lined up for me. Surprisingly I’ve been really great at my job.”

“And how do you feel about your dad becoming Mayor, let alone becoming your boss?” Damon was sure that her answer to this question would give him a majority of the answers he’d been looking for.

She scoffed before shaking her head. “I’m not looking forward to it.”

His eyebrow raised at that. “I take it that the relationship between you two isn’t a good one.”

“Nope.” She said, popping the ‘p’. She looked down at the empty glass in her hand for a moment. “He wasn’t around. Too busy caring for his other family in some other state. But after the news reached him that Richard Lockwood had died and that Carol took over, he decided to come here and try to ‘make the town better’.” Her finger ran along the rim of the glass. “Doesn’t help that he’s had the position for less than a day and I have a mountain of paperwork that I have to get to him by tomorrow morning is rather annoying.” She rolled her eyes slightly at that and Damon chuckled. “Both Richard and Carol never gave me this much work in one night.”

Damon felt relief as he had taken in her words. Liz had been right about her. He could see that she had no clue about the secrets that this town had hiding in the closet. He could see it in her eyes and hear it in her voice that there was nothing off about her previous bosses.

“How can I help take some of the workload off?” He offered.

While it had been mostly for the purpose of getting more information on the new Mayor’s plan, he figured it wouldn’t hurt to gain her trust in the process. If she was his possible ticket into the council meetings, he’d help in any way that he could.

“Um,” She bit down on her bottom lip for a moment, unsure how to respond to his offer. She had always been one to get her work done on her own, never really needing help. Her eyes moved over to the clock hanging on the wall. Her shoulders sagged as she took in the time. She had spent way too much time talking with him. She sighed as she looked back over at him. “Unless you know someone in Archives that would be willing to stay after closing, there really isn’t much you can do to help.”

How did she let herself lose track of time? She should have left when she needed to. Especially if she had no idea where some of those files would be locked away. She was going to need more time in the Archives and there was just no way she could do that so close to closing time.

A smirk grew on Damon’s lips. “Believe me, I can get you all the time you need.” He stood up, pulling his wallet and put a few bills on the bar to cover the drinks they had.

“Seriously?” She asked, hopeful.

“Seriously.” He nodded his head. “Come on, grab your stuff. As long as we get there before closing, we’ll be fine.”

A smile grew on her slips as she stood from her seat and collected her things. While any other time she would have asked more details on his connections, but there was something about him wanting to help that she didn’t question him. And to think she almost cursed at herself for staying longer than she had intentionally planned.

It took less than ten minutes for them to walk down the street and get to the Archives. It took Damon less than a minute to compel the employee to let them stay until she had gotten the files she needed. He could see the relief washing through her the moment they reached the room they needed.

“What is it that we are looking for?” Damon asked as he stared at the several aisles of shelves that were filled with boxes.

Placing her back on one of the tables, she pulled a sheet of paper that held a long list of file numbers. Folding it in half, she carefully tears it to avoid any of the numbers and letters her father had written down. Once finished, she held one half out to Damon.

“Old case files that for some reason my dad wants to look over.” She said as she watched him take the half she offered to him and his eyes began looking over the numbers.

“Did he say why he needed them?” He asked as he began making his way down one of the aisle, his eyes searching for the first set of numbers written on the boxes.

“Something about needing to check if the case files were done correctly.” She shrugged her shoulders as she began walking in a different direction than Damon. “My Uncle was a cop here in Mystic Falls before he retired. He used to complain that someone never did the paperwork right. Guess my dad wants to check in on that now that he has the power to do it.”

That made Damon suspicious. Even as he found the first file on the list, he knew that Mayor L/N was definitely checking in on things. The file that he currently held in his hand was an old case file for an ‘Animal Attack’. While Damon had killed his fair share of people throughout his lifetime, he knew he wasn’t responsible for this particular one.

Closing the file, he tucked it under his arm and moved onto the next file. They were going to be needing to keep a close eye on the Mayor if he was looking into old cases that could start pointing fingers. He had just found the next file when he heard a gasp leave Y/N’s lis and the sound of files dropping to the ground.

“What happened?” He asked, turning in the direction she had gone. He tried peering over the boxes, but when he couldn’t see her, he began looking down each aisle until he found her.

She stood in the middle of the aisle with several case files surrounding her on the floor. She had a file opened in her hands. She hadn’t responded to him and he moved closer to her, he could see tears flowing down her cheeks.

Her name passed his lips softly, trying to get her attention. Whatever was in that file, had a grip on her that it took several more seconds after he said her name for her to look over at him.

Her eyes had been filled with more tears when she did. “This is-” She shook her head slightly trying to form the words clearly. “This is my mom’s case file. My Aunt always told me she had been in a horrible accident.” Her eyes moved back to the file, taking in more of the information.

“What happened to her?” He asked as he came to stand beside her and looked at the file. He could see she was currently looking through the images that were attached to it.

“The report says it was an animal attack.” She shook her head slightly, trying to process the information she was taking in. “What animal does this?” She asked before holding out the file for him to take. “I’ve never seen something rip into someone like that.”

Taking the file, he looked down at the images, official statements and the reports. If there was one thing that Damon could tell from any kind of ‘Animal Attack’ that Mystic Falls officials could try and cover up, it was the very thing he was looking at in the photographs. This was undoubtedly done by a vampire. As his eyes looked at the last image, taking in just how close she had been to losing her head, Damon knew exactly who had done it.

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[prael]

Kinktember 2024 - A Retrospective

What. A. Month. I want to start with my gratitude to every single person who read, commented, liked, reblogged, sent asks, discussed, and otherwise interacted in any other possible way with this whole shebang.

To close it all out, I want to give some of my thoughts and peel back the curtain a little on Kinktember.

Some Facts

168,396 words. One hundred and sixty-eight thousand, three hundred and ninety-six words. Averaging at 5,155 words per fic. Wow.

52 unique idols made an appearance and four were featured on more than one occasion; Wonyoung, Karina, Chaewon and Sakura are the four idols who hold that prestige.

Writing time on these pieces varied heavily, while I attempted to constrict myself to writing each fic in a single day, some of them got far beyond initially planned, with the most amount of time being spent on day 18, the IU fic. That one took roughly a total of 20 hours including editing. The quickest was as short as a 2-hour turnaround on days 14 and 15 (Chaewon and Youngeun).

Special Thanks

I’d like to take a moment before giving my personal thoughts to make a special token of gratitude to certain people. While there has been so much support from so many people and I would love to shout everyone out, I’m limiting myself to just a few.

Firstly, to @maemisnippets for the message on 14/07/2024 that was simply “Stand and carry” in reference to Youngeun. That single simple message became the catalyst for this entire Kinktember.

Secondly, to @midnightdancingsol for taking the time to help me make the initial plan for all the days of Kinktember and making many great suggestions that spawned a lot of these fics. Also thank you to everyone else for your suggestions and ideas.

Finally, to @capslocked for a great many things, from discussing details as small as how to format my posts to everything else you did.

Your Questions

Did you set yourself a time to do each one like a challenge to finish each to make it manageable? I gave myself 1 day per fic, whatever time I could spare during that day would be all I had to complete it, I think for around 27 of them, I managed to stick to this schedule. Some of them did spill over into a second day, such as the longer ones like IU.

How the hell did you find the motivation/inspiration to complete the whole thing? Honestly, I found it incredibly fun. I think I often get stuck in bigger projects and my brain gets all foggy, but with all of these fic being quick and snappy, I never got that feeling. Things kept being fresh and exciting and I was pretty much always looking forward to jumping into the next fic.

How did you approach choosing your kinks? / How did you come up with more of the exotic kinks? First I started with the obvious ones, the ones that instantly came to mind, and just threw them into a list. There are some niche ones that I always wanted to write too, but never had a reason to, such as electrophilia and vicarphilia. So even the more ‘exotic’ choices, I was acutely aware of. Then to round it out I did a little research online and pulled together a list of ‘potential’ kinks, which allowed me to fill out the missing slots.

Did you find varying each entry to be easy or difficult? What went into your thought process when it came to setting up each of the entries and the kink involved? Collecting a list of varied kinks was rather easy, at least initially, once I cut that down to the ones I would like to write, I ended up with a few spaces, and those final few became really difficult. But that’s why it’s great to have a community to lean on and ask for ideas. The thought process wasn’t really anything special beyond that. I just created a list and then picked out what I wanted to write, and then decided on idols to feature in each one. This leads nicely onto the image below, I scraped this initial list from a DM with another writer. As you can see, the initial list I put together on day one contained a large number of the ideas that made it into the final cut. This also serves as an answer to the questions on what ideas I decided to drop.

How did you match the featured idol(s) to the kink you have planned? Was it based on their idol personality? Or was it just random? I approached it in a similar way to how I would with most other fics, where if I think an idol’s personality lends itself to the fic, then I will do just that. Of course, it’s impossible to be really accurate and I had to take some creative liberties where needed. Although, on some occasions, I did just throw an idol in there and write her without thinking about her actual personality too much. This usually happens with idols I know less about.

I'm curious how you went about writing some of the more nicher kinks like electrophilia? The simple answer would be to say that I approached it the same way as I did every other fic. None of the kinks required me to do any further research as they’re all kinks that I’m familiar with and am interested in. So in the end I just wrote what felt right.

Was there an idol that you started liking after finishing writing her? For the sake of my own enjoyment/motivation, I only chose to write idols I already liked. Though I would say that writing the Shuhua fic made me a lot more attracted to her than normal. I could also possibly put IU here too, since she’s not really on the forefront of my mind, but became much more so after writing her.

Was there an idol in particular that you 'wanted' to write, but ultimately switched it to a different idol instead? REI. How did I not write REI?! She was in the original draft list where I was going to do some form of bondage piece, but ultimately all the ideas I had for it were absorbed into other fics.

This feels like a good point to share this initial list I completed with Sol while planning. A lot of this remained true to plan, but you may spot some changes.

Now that it's done are you glad you did it or did you end up regretting your decision at some point? Overall, I’m happy and proud and think it was 100% worth it. I relished the challenge and it took me out of my comfort zone. Right now, the only regrets I have are the fics where I know I could have done more/better but I know that I have to accept that I did the best I could in the time constraints. There were times along the way when I had my regrets and wondered if I should even have bothered, particularly when a fic wasn’t well received, but I know now I had just to accept that.

Do you feel more familiar with your style/voice as a writer, if so: what have you discovered? Did you learn anything from this writing-wise? Discovered some new writing styles and possibly improved some? I think the most important thing I took away from this is how important it is to just get words down on the page. I have spent time previously stuck in my own head and grinding to a halt in a fic when trying to make things work. Kinktember simply wouldn’t allow that, so I had to adapt. I learned to be ruthless by deleting the things that didn’t work and pushing on without trying to be overly perfect. I don’t think I developed my ‘voice’ or style too much because I believe it did have to take a backseat at times in order to maintain pace. However, I did get the opportunity to try new things, such as FxF and writing for a gender-neutral reader and also varying the pacing within the fics. Fics such as the Kkura one where I cut together four short, connected scenes really suited the concept and were very fresh to write.

Which fic do you think the idol and the kink are a 'perfect' match? Maybe in terms of reader reception or how quickly you got into the flow state when writing it? Well, I wasn’t sure at the time, but I was told that Karina and dressing up as a maid worked really well. I also think there were a few really obvious combinations that I leaned on, such as spanking Chaewon and having Ryujin and Yeji scissor, or having Minju be a doll. Those are ones that just instantly clicked for me and I thought to myself it was a perfect match. I would say I entered the biggest flow state when writing the Moka x Yunah, I found it incredibly hot, so much so that I finished the fic and then when going to edit, I wrote the second scene. Idk I’m just really down bad for Moka rn. Also, I hear that I really nailed the Yunjin/Kkura/Chaewon dynamic, so probably that one too.

Is there a fic that you would have written regardless but just so happened to be included in kinktember, if that makes sense? I never really know what I’m going to write next until I’m writing it, and I never know if it will be posted until I post it. This makes it hard for me to really guarantee that anything in Kinktember would one day come to fruition. The closest to it would be part 2 of the Minji fic, How Sweet To Be Alone. I always wanted to follow up on it, so being able to add it as a kinktember fic became a bit of a perfect storm. There are other fics too that I always wanted to write, and maybe I would have one day, but kinktember made it a reality.

Would you do kinktember(or any other variant) again? Would you recommend writers to try it at least once? I would say I’m more likely to do it again than I am not, but I can’t guarantee it. As for recommending it to other writers… the honest answer is no. I feel that it goes against so many of a writer's natural instincts. It takes over your life. It consumes your time. You’re forced to work unnaturally hard and you’re forced to reduce your standards. I don’t think it’s healthy for anyone to push to do something like this.

Finally, throughout the month I had so many nice asks that I couldn't respond to, but I read them all and appreciated them all so much.

[chocobje]

HEY. slides in. ummmmmm hii

i'm a big sprout seedly fan and i like dandy's world a lot in general. and you are one of my literal FAVORITE dw artists because WHAT THE HELL!!!!!! SO MANY GOOD THINGS COME OUT OF YOUR BRAIN!!!!!!!! and your freakin uhhhhhh whassit called. The posts about the mains' last thoughts before they go twisted. they are driving me INSANEEEEEEEEE and i have SO MANY FEELINGS AND SO MANY THOUGHTS. ALL BECAUSE OF YOU. thank you for drawing Sprout Seedly struggling to breathe on the ground and thank you especially for the line about how he can feel his scarf. that one stuck with me.

anyways! i just really really need you to know that those posts, in conjunction with your posts about the handlers eventually returning, have ignited something in me. I have been losing my god damn mind. your Sprout posts in particular made me want to write something about him and Cosmo when Sam returns, Sam finding Sprout protecting Cosmo even as a twisted. simply because i like to think about Sprout Going Through It. i thought up an outline, expecting the finished product of that little thing to be no more than 5k words.

I have still not finished that little snippet. because it spiralled out of my hands when i started telling one of my friends about it, and he and i kept bouncing some ideas off of each other. and now, I am, in partial collaboration with him, constructing an entire dandy's world au because i saw your posts and thought your concepts were incredibly fun to think about. I fear I am never going to be able to recover

the au was SUPPOSED to just be about the handlers returning, after the initial expansion from just Sprout to the rest of the mains. now it has an entire prequel of setup upon setup upon setup in the works that might end up longer and more extensive than the handlers returning half of it

so unmmmm. Yeah. i just want you to know that i appreciate your posts a lot and i really really like what you do. you have inspired and motivated me greatly. hope you don't mind this coming out of absolutely nowhere.

OH MY GOD?? THANK YOU 😭

A lotta things come outta my brain.. Especially anything when it comes to exploring characters and their thoughts and feelings cause ARGHHSNDK I'm surprised nobody has done like, a pre-twisting last thoughts idea yet like the one did.

I'M SO HAPPY MY POSTS GOT TO INSPIRE YOU SO MUCH!! If you ever post that fic I'd DEFINITELY LOVE TO READ IT PLS LET ME KNOW!! :D ❤️

I love had this thought of Handlers returning to Gardenview for a LONG time I was just hoping someone else woulda done it LMAO

This made my morning ty once again 🥹

[random-twst-things]

The Sweet Painter of Twisted things (Pt. 1)

Hi annon! Love the concept. It's no bother at all, I do love to write after all!! Ty for the request and I apologize for taking so long 😭✨🍬 (I hope you like it!)

Characters involved: Riddle, Leona, Azul pt.1 (Kalim, Jamil, Vil, Idia, Malleus pt.2)

Pairings: Riddle, Leona, Azul pt 1 (Kalim, Jamil, Vil, Idia, Malleus x Female reader pt.2) (Separate)

Warnings: Mentions of eerie/gory paintings

Word count: 1,630

Notes: you know what? I'm just gonna post it now and finish the rest in a different post, I don't want y'all to be kept waiting any longer 😭✨🍬

More notes: I'll be posting Pt.2 whenever I have time! I will say though, I have no idea how to write for some of the characters in Pt.2 😀✨🍬

When you said you painted and wished to show him your art, Riddle had to admit he was a tad bit (a lot) excited to see

So, when you showed him your art he was absolutely bewildered.

You, the sweetest person he has ever had the chance in meeting, paints things that could cause nightmares.

Obviously, he isn't going to say that aloud, he has manners, but dear seven, how unexpected it was for him.

He's seen art before. He's been to museums by his mother to teach him strictly of the arts and the "rules" she put in place for them to determine how well a painting is.

It's been years since his mother taught him such things, and she only did it so often, and after time, those rules of art set by his mother have dwindled.

He's been able to go to museums before with Trey as a way to calm down when things are too much. Luckily, Trey was able to explain to Riddle how there are many forms of art and how it art doesn't necessarily have rules itself.

So it's safe to say he's a bit more well-versed in paintings now, even though he still finds it a bit difficult when there's no rules to follow (a habit hard to get rid of)

Now, his reaction all depends on what painting and image your showing him

He will ask you questions about why you would paint such uncanny things such as:

Why did you paint this? What caused you to begin painting such eerie things? What Inspiration were you given to paint this particular piece?

And many more questions about technique and practical things.

He can't say that he's a fan of these types of paintings, but he can say that he thinks you're very talented to be able to make such paintings

He'll praise how well done or real your painting(s) looks.

He's going to be a bit concerned about you, though, and he shows that by (trying to) subtly asking if you're okay

"What gave you the inspiration to draw this?" Riddle asks, the worry in his tone being quite evident even through his attempts in hiding it. "Have you witnessed such things for inspiration?" He asks again, his voice laced with even more worry than before.

"What? No!" You stand up from your seat to get closer to Riddle. "It's not like that," you laugh lightly, shaking your hands in the air. "I just happened to see a rotting piece of meat in the cafeteria kitchen one time while passing by."

Riddle breathes a sigh of relief he didn't know he was holding in. Bro was stressing and worrying.

I say this in the nicest way possible to us all, but this man does not care but-!

Leona doesn't care in a sense like "I wanna show you something!" "Alright hurry it up and show me".

Maybe he's a bit smug that you're showing him something you like to do.

Anyways, when you said you wanted to show him your painting(s) he was being smug.

He didn't have any set expectations to what type of things you painted or what your style was.

Him seeing the eerie or gory painting didn't surprise him as much as Riddle either.

He doesn't have much to say, but this guy is still smug and is definitely showing it now.

Why? The guys got weird motives and definitions of respect and pride so we'll never know.

His does wonder how you acquired such Inspiration to paint like this.

He's not too curious about it to the point where he'll try to find out or becomes worried.

Again, he is smug and prideful but it's for you

He feels prideful FOR you. He's smug about you being able to paint such gory or eerie things FOR you.

(Bros so smitten with you)

You set your canvas/notebook down carefully against one of the plants nearby, careful not to get it dirty or damaged.

Leona lays there, back towards you, unbothered under the shade of a plant, but not for long as you bring your finger near his cheek and begin to poke.

Poke.

Poke.

PokePokePokePokePokePokePoke.

Leona swats your hand away, but not harshly. His tail swings left to right faster then he was asleep, another sign he's awake.

He looks at you, irked that you disturbed his so-called much needed nap. He glares at you, but his eyes lack the malice in them to even consider it threatening. You look at him innocently, hands behind your back as to show it wasn't you. (He knows better, only you would ever try to wake him up like that)

He sighs deeply. "What is it herbivore?" He asks as he shifts slightly to get into a more comfortable position to get a better view of you. You turn your body slightly to grab the canvas you set down behind you, careful not to accidentally show Leona just yet. "I wanna show you something," you beam, you're more excited then you thought you'd be showing him, for the first time, your most recent painting.

Leona's tail begins to swish even faster, thumping against the leaves of the plants nearby. His tail gives away that his curiosity has been piqued. Yet his face remains unchanged, besides the slight quirk of his eyebrow in questioning.

You turn the canvas around for Leona to see.

And there it is

The smirk

The smug

The eyes of pride *sound effects*

His smirk seems to widen even more as he looks at the painting and then back at you. "Looks nice herbivore, ya got anymore?"

You excitedly nod your head, "yeah, I do. Wanna see them?", you ask, gripping your painting, even more excited then before to show him.

Leona nods his head languidly while slowly closing his eyes, "sure, but after I finish this nap", he brings his arms down and begins to get comfortable. He softly pats his stomach, "Come, sleep".

Azul knows you paint, he knows it's been a hobby of yours for a while now.

How does he know? Doesn't matter. Does he know what exactly the contents of your paintings are? No

His curiosity has been eating away at him. He was so very curious on what his darling was capable of

So, when you first told him that you wished to show him your paintings, he was elated. His curiosity will finally be quelled.

He may or may not have a set expectations of what you paint. Something sweet, something calm or maybe something like he'd find at a museum of old paintings.

What he saw was the complete opposite to say the least.

He's not disappointed, no, he's just shocked.

He's amazed. He's taken aback. He's a lot of emotions.

.....would you be willing to, perhaps, sell these paintings? Many people out there would be willing to buy, and the profits would be even and-

Old habits die hard, I suppose 🤷🏽‍♀️

You led Azul by the hand to your room/drawing room, much slower than he would like as he wished to see your paintings as soon as possible.

"Azul, i can feel you twitching in anticipation just by holding your hand," you laughed lightly. He sighed, bringing his free hand to his temple to calm his nerves. "I'm sorry, dear, but it feels as if you're walking slower just to build up anticipation," "Maaaybeee~". Azul chuckles at your antics.

Finally, after Azuls definition of agonizing seconds. He visibly relaxed as he saw the covered canvas. "My, you really know how to keep me on my toes", ",I most certainly do". You left go of his hand and stand next to the covered canvas. "Ready?", you put your hands on the sheet. Azul held his breath and nodded.

You clench the cover and quickly pull it off. You turn to face Azul to gouge his reaction. That reaction was him frozen in place, still holding his breath (you'd begun to think how he still hasn't passed out) "Azul?" You try to call out to him.

He slowly walks up to your painting, still holding his breath. He reaches out and touches the edges of the canvas delicately, scared he we're to break it if he put too much pressure. You watch his careful movements. You watch as his eyes rake over your painting as if he could take the painting and store it into his memory box. "Azul?" You try calling out again, only this time he responds.

He let's out a shaky breath, "it looks -" he turns his head to fade you. "It looks magnificent, dear," his words were barely above a whisper. You stand there absolutely frozen and shocked. Nobody has ever quite thought this kind of painting would be 'magnificent' before.

"Really?" He turns his head back at the painting."Yes, the detail is vert intricate, and it feels so eerie. It's as if you were truly there." You stare at him bewildered, mouth slightly agape.

He puts his hand on his chin in a thinking position. The gears turn in his head. He turns to face you so quickly that you'd think he'd have snapped his neck on accident. "Have you ever considered selling these?" He asks, with a twinkle in his eyes.

"Sell them?... No, I never really thought of that." You bring your fingers to your chin, now thinking as well. "Well, I'll say many would be lining up the door to buy these wonderful paintings!""Really?"

"Yes! With such talent and my business skills, we could -" and there goes the business man into his spiral of possibilities.

[knit-me-a-blanket]

Learning to Knit? My top five suggested first projects

Since 2020, there have been so many people looking to get into knitting. The world has had its ups and downs, and people really need a hobby that they can feel good about. Also, in the event of an apocalypse, this is at least a useful hobby. I wanted to make a post listing my favorite knitting projects for getting started. All of the below patterns have been made by me, and all of them are available for free on Ravelry. There are a lot of really great patterns that are available for a price, but I never want money to be a barrier to entry to a fantastic hobby. Once you've got this under your belt, you can decide for yourself how you continue searching for patterns.

Hats

Hats are a really easy and great way to get started with knitting. They don't take too long to knit up, and you can practice almost any stitch with them.

Ribbed Beanie

Holly Hat

Viima Beanie

Perfect Stocking Cap

Rikke Hat

Scarves

Scarves are often the first project recommended to a beginner, but I disagree. They're long and straight and quite frankly boring. A lot of new knitters start a scarf and halfway through, want to switch to something else. The starter projects I've put below all have some sort of interesting feature to them. This is meant to keep the knitter engaged and hopefully finish the project.

Preppie Scarf

2by2 Scarf

Cashmere Sequential

Calista Mesh Scarf

Fizz

Shawls

Shawls are a great way to take on a longer project with some interesting patterns. Most shawls contain lace motifs. These can be challenging to a new knitter, but the following are all meant for beginners.

Ashton Shawlette

The Age of Brass and Steam Kerchief

Reed Shawlette

Simply Riveting Scarf

Fanfare

Socks

Socks are a very specific item of clothing. Everyone's foot is slightly different, and it takes time to find out what works best for you. For example, I've knit Hermione's Everyday Socks multiple times, and I've learned that I need to cast on fewer stitches to get the fit I want. This also varies depending on what type of yarn I use.

These sock patterns will give you a good foundation for what it takes to make a sock.

Foundation Socks

Hermione's Everyday Socks

The Austin Socks

Favorite Socks

Sweaters

When it comes to sweaters, I recommend working with a larger weight yarn, like worsted or DK, for your first sweater. A larger yarn will knit up faster, and this will help you keep your motivation if you're doing a simple stitch.

Flax DK

Real Easy Raglan

Tweedy Shrug

Nestoria

Step by Step Cardigan

Thanks for stopping by—let’s knit something wonderful together! My ask box is always open! Feel free to drop a comment.

[ao3lestappeninchident]

hey could you write about Carlos Sainz. Y/N is a 24 year old Spanish journalist and she and Carlos flirt all the time in front of the camera and Lando and Charles make fun of Carlos because he is always looking forward to doing an interview with Y/N ​​because they flirt hard every time. two that on twitter they created a hashtag on the flirting moments between y/n and carlos

Behind The Camera

Carlos Sainz x Spanish Journalist fem!reader

A/N: I hope this is wat you meant. I never worked with these fake apps before, so don't pay too much attention to dates and times.

One of the flirting scenes is highly based on that one Sebastian Vettel interview.

The paddock was buzzing with people from all around the world. Grand stands were filled with the colors of different teams and drivers. There were big crowds of orange for the hometown heroes, Max verstappen and Lando Norris.

Cheers were heard as Carlos crossed the finish line in p2, just behind his teammate and in front of his old one. The red bull had crashed out of the race after the touch when Sergio Perez tried to overtake the Dutch man. Unfortunately both of the cars tuned into each other, moving Carlos up to third. After the pitstops he had managed to do an undercut on the Mclaren driver and finished on the second podium place.

"That is P2, mate. Good job," his race engineer congratulated him through the radio, prompting Carlos to let out an excited scream.

"Vamos!" he exclaimed, parking his car in front of the P2 sign and stepping out with a wide grin on his face. Charles stood on top of his own car, proudly displaying one finger in the air to signify his win. Carlos congratulated his fellow driver on the victory before turning to his team and embracing them in a warm hug, celebrating their shared success. It is a good day for the Ferrari fans and that didn't happen often.

.

"Congratulations Carlos on your p2. How are you feeling?" You ask with a bright smile on your face. You always loved interviewing Carlos. He is always really nice and you have nice conversations behind the cameras. Also a plus point that he drives for your favorite team.

"Great now that you are here," he answers, his eyes twinkling as he gives you a wink that sends a shiver down your spine. You have to try hard not to blush at the man's charming comment. "It's a great day for the team with a 1-2 finish. I hope we have more of these moments to come."

"You were absolutely flying out there today. Your performance was outstanding. I am sure that you have more of these moments. "

Carlos smiles at your words, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. "Thank you. The car felt great and the team did a great job with the undercut." He had been looking forward to seeing you today after he heard you will do the podium post race interviews. Lets just say he had some extra motivation for this race.

"With the undercut you managed to get in front of Lando. Was it difficult to keep him behind?"

"Of course. He is a great driver and their car is very fast. He really had me concentrate those last laps. " Carlos looks back at where Lando was standing next to the race winner. Lando gave him a little smile for the comment.

"The safety car came at a good moment and you got a free pit from it. Do you think you could have had the same pace with the old ones?"

"The safety car did come at a great time. I was struggling with the tyres and really wanted to switch them. The team said I couldn't because then I had to drive out the race for the remaining laps and that was too many. So having an extra free stop really helped. "

"Any plans for after the race. How are you going to celebrate it?"

"I am sure there is a party planned already. Good thing is that it is summer holiday and we don't need to do training wasted." He jokes and you let out a laugh.

"Sounds great. Have any plans for the summer break? How are you going to spend your free time? "

"Well, What are your plans?" He smirks and you have to take a second to let your mind take in his comment. You want to play to game with him, but chose to be professional and do as if you don't get the hint.

"Nice of you to ask. I'm heading back to Spain to visit some family," you reply, trying to maintain your cool exterior even as your heart races at the thought of his attention turning towards you.

"I hope I see you around then, Hermosa" Carlos says, his smirk widening as he rakes a hand through his hair in a gesture that sends a jolt of desire through you. You say your goodbyes before Lando takes his place in front of your camera.

Out of your sight Charles laughs at his teammate and gives him a pat on the back, a playful smirk placed on his face.

"What?" Carlos looks at him with confused puppy eyes. He takes his water bottle and takes a sip.

"What are your plans." Charles imitates his teammates question before letting out a louder laugh that turns the head of other people. "Mate, just ask her out already. It is painful to watch you keep flirting with each other."

"I ask her what her plans are. That is just being polite."

"Alright. And when you found out she was doing the post race interviews, you didn't smile from ear to ear because you would be seeing her again?"

"She is a great journalist and my friend. "

When Lando came back from his interview with you he had made the same remark as Charles and Carlos just groaned in reply. He was not going to hear the end of it.

The fans on twitter were going wild after the interview. It wasn't the first time you and Carlos had shared some flirty comments and there were fan pages dedicated to the two of you. There was even a tag going around with all the fans favorite moments of you two together that you weren't aware of.

Lando laughs as he opens twitter. He was at the celebration party after the race and he had sit down next to the two ferarri drivers after a round of shots.

" Whats so funny?" Carlos asks with a confused expresion as he tries to look at the Brits phone. Lando shows the Twitter reactions.

" Looks like you are the only blind one."

[muffinsin]

E ai, como vai?I would like to make a request, would it be possible to have a headcannon about the dimi sisters with a girlfriend who has social anxiety, severe depression and adhd? i just got my diagnosis and i really wanted to know how they would deal with a girlfriend with these things

Hey hon :)🙌 Absolutely :) I think I’ve had similar prompts in the past to each of these and more, so this could be considered a larger version of those past prompts🥳

INFO: NEW big post series, a full roughtly 115 chapter fanfiction is gonna come out. Dark "romance", quite niche, Daniela x Donna :) First chapter will be posted either this week or on the weekend. Reblogs are gonna be super appreciated

Masterlists

Bela

She’s always been very caring towards you

What comes easy to her is often something you find yourself struggling with, and still you know; she’s always there for you

She takes care of things you find uncomfortable, helps you manage things you struggle with

As you remind her to eat when she’s stuck overworking herself, she ensures you eat, too

She allows you to stay in her office throughout the day and in your breaks at work, where it’s quiet and private, giving you a break from the maidens working about the place

A meal is always prepared for you, and she often makes an effort to pause her work during the times you visit her to talk

Usually she tells you of her work and listens to you talk about your day

Having such a time with Bela is a huge motivator to keep working every day. This time also offers you great relief

At times, she uses this time to try and set goals for the day to help you battle your depression

She never asks for much, only a few things to help you go to bed feeling like you’ve accomplished something

Occasionally, these things are to try and pursue one of your (past-) hobbies

With Bela as your girlfriend, many things that would normally trigger your social anxiety are handled by her

She’s of a high status and, as such, has certain benefits. Benefits she’s willing to exploit to make life a little easier for you

Such as allowing you to somewhat choose what work you’d like to do in what areas

She allows you to retreat to more secluded sections of the castle, letting you work entirely on your own on difficult days, as to reduce your anxiety and discomfort

During that time you can manage yourself- or follow the schedule, depending on what comes easier to you- entirely

You can finish up faster if you complete your work fast, or take your time

She’s not one to rush you, and with the rush of the maidens and other staff members always about, this gives you a comfortable break when needed

Seeing as there is no one around to walk in or share the workspace with, you can hum a tune, listen to one, can work in a dimly lit room or fully lit, can be loud or quiet, don’t have to converse with anybody at all unless you wish so

It’s freedom, as much as one can off of, at work, and it helps more than you could ever thank her for

Her study, of course, is always open to you, too

Occasionally, you’ll be around her sisters if she has to work longer

And while Cassandra and Daniela at times challenge you with their boldness, they occasionally return some energy to you, too

Bela, in all of this, is like a weighed blanket

She’s your comfort no matter what, your love, and your happiness

She takes excellent care of you and very early on figures out little cues based on your body language to determine how you feel

Whenever you get overwhelmed around people or feel your social battery and energy drain, she comes up with polite ways of leaving with you

She never makes a scene, always acts very subtly in public as to help reduce your anxiety. Even as she, as a Dimitrescu, is bound to have some heads turn to her

And still, you never feel uncomfortable around her

If anything, she will always ease things for you

She’s confident, but doesn’t come across as bold

She’s intelligent, but never makes you feel as though you’re less so

She’s utterly caring for you and while she pushes you gently, she does so only to help you, ultimately

Cassandra

She isn’t entirely up to date with…well, most things that don’t directly concern her

As such, when you tell her of your diagnosis, she’s pretty clueless

She knows depression, knows the term, but knows very little of the other two

She’ll probably think she can cure your depression by cheering you up, though

Perhaps even by dragging some still-twitching prey into your room

A…sweet gift, certainly, but she soon realizes that there’s more to it

As it comes to your anxiety and adhd…she hardly understands these, but tries to be supportive nonetheless

She cares about you, after all, and therefore attempts to educate herself a little on what those terms actually mean

She tries to make life more comfortable around you, first

For example, she’ll attempt to help ease your social anxiety by reminding you that about every single maid you see in the castle is disposable and can be killed by her at pretty much any moment

She figures; you feel discomfort or embarrassment, she will just kill away the problem

No one has to know, she figures, and she doesn’t mind. She kills all the time, after all

And yes, this certainly does help in rare cases

What she also does, though, and what helps you so very much, is to allow you to pull away from situations

You don’t feel ready to do something? She would never force you

Cassandra is always in your corner, has always got your side

She isn’t one for being rational, anyway, being one to live in the moment more than anything

She cares little about responsibility regarding others, aside from her family, that is

You want to take a break from work, therefore? Or not work at all until you feel more ready?

She doesn’t mind. Boring anyway, she feels

She does so dearly miss you when you’re at work right when she wants to play, after all

You want to change your work environment?

She cares little for the work at the castle, but she will personally see to it that things get done to help you get what you want

Cassandra is not shy

Alas, when you feel uncomfortable or anxious, she has no trouble at all- and even offers- to stay right by your side the entire time

She doesn’t care whether she’s been invited or not, doesn’t care how it might seem when she joins you each time

You need her, you want her there. She will forever be there, then

Sure, she might cause a bit of a mess at times when she gets hungry, but she’s there for you

Whatever you need to get done, you know: you always have the option of asking her to join you

And with her by your side, she’s always there to assure you, but also talk for you

Which, sometimes, isn’t quite for the best, you suppose

She’s rather bold, and cares little for being sensitive to the staff

As such, she phrases things very…directly

Still, it helps you

When she’s with you, most either avoid looking at the two of you altogether or only glance at her occasionally, a look of fear and curiosity in their eyes

And, of course, she noticed instantly if you feel uncomfortable by just that

A single snarl of hers is enough to make those advert their eyes, too

And while she generally tends to leave an impression, just because she can, she actively works on making things easier for you

She’s a little quieter, intimidating people away, rather than for fun

She stops pulling attention towards the two of you, at least until the point you feel more comfortable and allow her to do so

Being no stranger to a bit of a seasonal depression in winter, Cassandra has some idea of what you might be feeling

She can’t ever fully understand, but she doesn’t need to. She’s there for you, and doesn’t claim she understands what she knows she cannot

Still, she takes care of you

She brings you things you might enjoy, makes you get out of bed, if only to play or hunt with her, if only that means you sit and hold her weapons or prey for her

You know, it’s just an excuse to get dirty, really, to help motivate you to shower

When you do, she will always ensure you have a warm meal waiting for you once you’re done

Daniela

She's very understanding

She doesn't fully understand, even as she attempts to, but she's there for you

She tries to cheer you up always, but doesn't mind quiet times, either

When you need her to, Daniela will always keep the conversation going for the two of you, rambling about this and that or only humming a little when you feel like enjoying some silence

She'll hold you tight every day, encourage you to get out of bed, if only for a little bit

Often, she'll make you shower then, even offer to join you, eat, and take a walk through the gardens

She probably isn't the best to help with your adhd, but she's supportive and would never judge you for it, either. She doesn't mind, really, showing some of the symptoms herself, whether she notices this or not

She'll occaisonally get distracted walking through the gardens with you, finding flowers she likes and insisting she must braid them into a crown for you

And really; you can't help but feel even slightly better

Sometimes, the emptiness hits you hard, and you feel like nothing nothing at all

She doesn't force you to move, then, but curls up with you, her flies buzzing quietly, her arms and legs around you

She'll stroke your back and hair, whispering gentle praises you know by now she fully means. She's so loving towards you, so caring

She can't always understand how you feel, but she will always try to battle the demons in your head to make you feel better

Unlike you, she feels no social anxiety at all, in pretty much any given situation

She knows what she wants, and she basks in the attention she receives from others, whether they're friends or strangers

As such, being with her in public can be a little intimidating at times

Or when she walks about, greeting people neither of you really know but chatting as though they were friends

It's a little intimidating and admirable at the same time

Thankfully, she never expects you to take part in those conversations, not unless you want to. She will, however, introduce you as her girlfriend before expertedly changing the topic of the conversation again to give you time to adjust

Much like Cassandra, Daniela is the type to always be with you, to always stick by your side, no matter what

She often joins you when you're forced to take part in social events at the castle

She'll hold your hand and, while she likes the attention, she will always stand in a quiet corner with you

You're more important to her than anything and anyone else, except maybe her family, who she loves at least equally, after all

She'll stay with you, occaisonally make little remarks about the setting or giggle to herself

When someone approaches you, she's quick to take over the conversation in a way that doesn't come across as pushy. For someone toying with, torturing, and eating humans, she's surprisingly good with people, you find

She's always looking out for you like this, always waits for your squeeze of her hand as a signal made up by the two of you that you'd like to say something, now

Of course, there's many signals like that

That way, she'll also easily excuse the two of you in a somewhat bold, but polite fashion

You are, and will always be, her priority

[nanamincreampie]

Hola ! I read your post about your holiday requests (^_^;)

I'm craving some Yuji. Hmm, maybe something along the lines of Yuuji being Y/Ns boxing instructor/personal trainor ?

Maybe he invites her to one of his matches (　・ω・)

(Fluffyyy/Angsty??)

TIA ♡

YOU ASKED AND I DELIEVER!!!!!✨💗

p.s.: Yuji is aged up in this story

Yuji’s gym had always felt like a second home, even if the endless drills sometimes made you question why you signed up in the first place. But the charm of the place wasn’t the equipment or even the progress you’d made, it was Yuji, your personal trainer and boxing instructor.

Yuji was a whirlwind of energy, all pink hair and boyish smiles. He had this knack for making even the toughest workouts enjoyable. Whether he was cracking jokes or hyping you up mid-jab, he always found a way to keep you motivated. And, okay, maybe you had a tiny crush on him. Who wouldn’t? The guy was all sunshine and muscles, with a personality that could melt anyone’s defenses.

“Alright, Y/N, let’s finish strong!” he called, holding up the mitts. “Jab, cross, hook! You got this!”

You wiped a bead of sweat from your temple, your matching workout set snug against your curves. His compliments on your coordination were constant, but you could never tell if they were just part of his job or something... more. As you finished the set, Yuji grinned, lowering the mitts.

“See? Told you you’re getting better. Your punches have way more power now!”

You laughed, catching your breath. “All thanks to my instructor, I guess.”

His eyes lingered on you for a beat longer than usual, his expression softening. “Hey, uh, can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” you said, adjusting the strap of your sports bra.

Yuji scratched the back of his head, looking uncharacteristically nervous. “So, there’s this fundraiser match happening next week. It’s for a good cause helping to raise money for kids’ sports programs. I’m fighting in it, and I was wondering if you’d wanna come? You don’t have to if it’s not your thing, but—”

“I’d love to!” you blurted out, surprising both of you. “I mean, yeah, that sounds great. I’ve never been to a boxing match before.”

His face lit up, and he flashed that signature megawatt grin. “Really? That’s awesome! I think you’ll like it. It’s... different from our sessions, though. A lot more intense.”

You nodded, already feeling a strange mix of excitement and nerves. “Well, I’ll get to see you in action. Should be fun.”

“It will be,” he said, his voice unusually soft. “I’m glad you’re coming, Y/N.”

The night of the match, the gym was transformed into a buzzing arena. You sat in the front row, feeling both out of place and oddly thrilled. Yuji had made sure to reserve you a good seat, and from this vantage point, you could see the entire ring. The air was electric with anticipation, the sound of gloves hitting heavy bags in the distance adding to the energy.

When Yuji stepped into the ring, you almost didn’t recognize him. Gone was the playful instructor who laughed at his own jokes; in his place stood someone serious, focused, and entirely in his element. His toned body gleamed under the lights, his muscles taut as he bounced on his feet. The sight made your breath catch. This wasn’t the Yuji who teased you during cooldown stretches this was someone commanding, powerful, and absolutely mesmerizing.

As the fight began, you found yourself leaning forward, gripping the edge of your seat. Yuji was fast, his movements fluid and precise. He landed a solid punch on his opponent, and the crowd erupted in cheers. You couldn’t help but smile, pride swelling in your chest.

But then his opponent countered with a blow that snapped Yuji’s head back, and your heart plummeted. You gasped, your hands flying to your mouth as you watched him stagger. He quickly recovered, giving a small nod to his opponent, but the sight of him in pain made your stomach twist.

You didn’t realize you were on your feet until the person beside you gently tugged at your arm. “You okay, miss?” they asked.

You nodded quickly, though your eyes stayed glued to the ring. “Yeah, I just... I don’t want him to get hurt.”

The match continued, each second feeling like an eternity. When Yuji finally landed a winning blow, the bell rang, signaling his victory. Relief washed over you, and you clapped along with the crowd, tears of pride and worry blurring your vision.

Afterward, you waited near the locker room, your nerves still buzzing. When Yuji emerged, his gloves slung over his shoulder and a towel around his neck, he spotted you immediately. His smile was tired but genuine.

“You came!” he said, jogging over to you despite the clear fatigue in his body.

“Of course I did,” you said, your voice shaking slightly. “Yuji, are you okay? That hit looked bad.”

He laughed softly, his hand reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. “I’m fine, really. Just a little sore.”

“You scared me,” you admitted, your hands fidgeting nervously. “But you were amazing out there. I’ve never seen anything like that.”

His eyes softened, and he stepped closer, the usual playfulness replaced with something deeper. “Thanks, Y/N. That means a lot coming from you.”

For a moment, the chaos of the gym faded, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of quiet. Yuji hesitated, then reached out to take your hand gently. “I wasn’t just fighting for the fundraiser tonight,” he admitted, his voice low. “I wanted to impress you.”

Your heart skipped a beat, your eyes widening. “Me?”

“Yeah, you,” he said, his cheeks turning pink. “I know I’m just your instructor, but I really like you, Y/N. I just... didn’t know how to say it before.”

You stared at him, your chest tightening with an emotion you couldn’t quite name. “Yuji, I... I didn’t realize...”

His grin returned, though it was softer this time. “Well, now you know. So... how about dinner sometime? No boxing gloves, I promise.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the tension melting away. “Okay. But only if you take it easy in the ring for a while.”

“Deal,” he said, his smile bright enough to rival the lights of the arena.

[cas-kingdom]

The Art of Parenting

A/N: This took a lot of time and motivation to finish, so it isn’t my best, but honestly I’m just glad to have it up and posted at this point, haha. Hopefully you enjoy it all the same.

In my OC’s (reader’s) world, our fave seven are no longer together by the time she officially becomes a member of the BAU. But let’s imagine for the sake of this fic that they are. <3

As usual, reader is Spencer’s sister and this fic is entirely platonic.

Title: The Art of Parenting

Summary: On the jet home, you find Hotch in need of some reassurance. And a blanket.

Words: 2634

As unexpected as it was to see the youngest of the unit walk sluggishly down the jet’s aisle, wrapped from head to way behind your toes in a heavy duvet and clutching two pillows to your chest, nobody could say with certainty that it was surprising.

And, frankly, as sudden laughter and teasing remarks shattered the previously dismal atmosphere of the jet typical after a case, nobody could say it wasn’t appreciated.

Between Rossi’s almost disgruntled “Why’d I never think of that?” and Emily and J.J.’s pleas to toss them both a pillow each, Derek pushed his headphones back and breathed a short burst of laughter.

“Oh, Princess, you did not.”

“It’s an eight-hour flight home,” you stated matter-of-factly, “you can bet your ass I did.”

You sat between him and Spencer, the latter absorbed in a book about insects, and crossed your legs beneath you. With little reluctance, as though you’d been expecting as much, you threw the pillows in the direction of Emily and J.J.. A stream of thanks and praises came your way immediately. Sleeping on a long plane ride home was bad enough, but sleeping after five days of running, shooting, yelling, punching, and powered by nothing but caffeine was rough. A pillow was capable of making that sleep the best damn sleep they’d ever had.

“Y/N—” J.J.’s voice was muffled by the pillow she’d stuck her face in—“you’re my lifesaver right now, and I love you.”

Emily pushed herself up on an elbow. “Do you happen to have a sleep mask back there?”

Derek waved her off and sat forward as you made yourself comfortable, spreading your duvet out around you. “Forget about that,” he said, “tell me you brought enough for all of us.”

A general hush encompassed the jet. Rossi leant forward expectantly, one brow quirked, and even Hotch, thus far silent in his own corner as he bent over a pile of paperwork, paused for a moment, his head tilted to await your answer. J.J. was utterly gone, it seemed, though Emily was still waiting for confirmation of a sleep mask.

You gave Derek a look. Derek clucked his tongue and shook his head, sitting back against his seat. You, because you were you, immediately unwrapped yourself from your blanket burrito and handed him a corner so he could pull it across him. Derek’s teasing look of misery dropped in an instant, and he accepted the corner with a kiss to your forehead. “Thank you, sweetheart.” With that, he pulled his headphones over his ears and shut his eyes, sinking down the couch enough that the duvet touched his chin.

“Sooo…that’s a no on the sleep mask?”

“Sorry, Em.”

The jet settled again after a sigh and a wave of the hand from Emily. Soft snores were just about audible from underneath J.J.’s pillow, Rossi had made himself comfortable in his seat, head in the palm of his hand, and Hotch’s momentary distraction had not thwarted his determination to finish his work before you landed. You watched him for a moment, noting the trademark crease in his brow as he hunched over documents.

And the man wondered why he got so many headaches.

“Did you know that a ladybug will prepare for a food shortage by laying infertile eggs for her young to eat once they hatch?”

Spencer hadn’t taken his eyes from his page, completely immersed, and wouldn’t have noticed if his sudden statement didn’t even gain a response. Still, instinctively, you turned away from Hotch and towards your brother, peering in total interest down at what he was reading. “Creepy,” you said.

“Resourceful,” Spencer corrected.

“You’re telling me you’d procreate and go through nine months of pregnancy and hours of painful labour only to give the baby away to be eaten by your other kids once it’s born?”

Spencer looked up. A puckered brow temporarily marred his features. “Actually,” he said, “the time taken by ladybugs to lay eggs after mating varies and can sometimes be as little as seven days or as long as two to three months. Once the eggs are laid they can take between three and ten days to hatch.” There were a couple beats of silence, both of you staring at the other, before Spencer sniffed and turned back to his book. “And I can’t get pregnant.”

Years ago, before and at the beginning of his career, sarcasm had been alien to Spencer. Since then, you were proud to say he’d become one with a few more human traits. Teasing being one of them, as was proven when he glanced at you from the corner of his eye and let a playful smile slip onto his face. You breathed a quiet laugh and leant your head against his shoulder when he snuck an arm around you.

“Your pillows have been taken hostage,” he reminded you. His eyes were still following the words in front of him, but he’d slowed his pace. Still an exceptionally abnormal pace, but normal enough that he could read while talking. He lowered his voice a bit, well aware the rest of the plane, save from Hotch, was deep in sleep. “Do we plan a rescue attempt?”

You hummed. “You’re comfy enough.”

Spencer smiled and glanced at his watch. “How about utilising my comfiness and getting some sleep?”

You rose an eyebrow at his subtlety. “You know I stopped being twelve over ten years ago?”

“One of the parenting books I read when you were little said that parenting is a lifetime job and does not stop when a child grows up.”

You looked critically up at him. “What about you?”

“Uh, I think I’ll stay up for a bit and read.”

Needless to say, you knew when you next woke he’d be beaten by sleep. You shuffled down the length of the couch so you could put your head in your brother’s lap and curled your legs beneath you so that you didn’t accidentally kick Derek.

An as yet undetermined amount of time later, you woke to Spencer deeper in sleep than even you had been. His book still in his hand, so close to the end, the genius was slumped against the side of the couch, head lolling uncomfortably back. He had his free hand on your shoulder, an instinctual thing, and as you blinked away the residual drowsiness you squinted at the watch on his wrist. 2:30 am. You hadn’t been sleeping long.

You sat up, careful not to jostle your brother. Derek was still tucked beneath his end of the blanket, his headphones halfway to falling off. You reached across to gently tug them from him before he ended with an ear cushion in his eye.

Emily and J.J. hadn’t moved from beneath their pillows, and Rossi seemed to have stretched himself out across the opposite couch while you’d been asleep.

The gentle hum of the plane’s engine would have caused you to doze off again if it weren’t for the sight of Hotch, still in his corner and hunched over his work. The man was unbelievable.

After a hefty amount of blinking and rubbing, you let loose another yawn before standing to your feet. You noticed Hotch glance up at the movement, and he offered a tired smile as you walked down the plane’s aisle towards him. You had intended on slipping into the seat opposite him but at a sudden remembrance slowed halfway. Hotch frowned lightly and you pointed a finger at him to wait before walking past him and towards where you’d all stored your bags before flying.

When you reappeared with a second duvet even thicker than the one now spread evenly across Spencer and Derek, even Hotch couldn’t refrain from chuckling. He still held his pen in his hand but let his eyes move from his papers for a moment as he sat back.

“What’s this?” he asked.

You smiled as you passed him the duvet, feeling some sense of victory when he didn’t hesitate before taking it. Sitting opposite him, you watched him settle it around himself. It was some solace to see him visibly relax beneath it.

“I knew someone would need it,” you said. Then, after fleeting reluctance, “How much do you wanna bet I knew that someone would be you?”

Hotch, because he truly was not as harsh as those on the outside would consider the permanent lines in his forehead and coarse glint in his eye to mean, chuckled softly. “Nothing, thank you,” he said, resigned.

You breathed a laugh. “How much longer do we have?” You turned in your seat and stretched your legs out across the length of it, leaning back against the wall. The shutter had been pulled down over the window, but you reached over with a finger to crack it open slightly. No light flooded onto Hotch’s workspace, so you imagined there was still a while to go. It didn’t bother you, of course. You knew there was always the possibility that a new case would land in your faces the moment you stepped off the plane. Any slither of solitude in the confinements of the jet was precious.

“Four hours, give or take.” Hotch was silent for a moment, but you had a sense you were suddenly being scrutinised as you continued to peer aimlessly out of the crack in the window. Keeping your head in place, you flicked your eyes to the side, gaining uneasy confirmation when you noticed his gaze on you.

Hotch rose an eyebrow. “What is it?” he asked.

Your eyes involuntarily widened. “Huh?” Hotch let his lips twitch knowingly upwards, and you decided after a moment to reciprocate it. With confidence built up over almost fifteen years in his company, you leant forward and clasped your hands on the table in front of you. “I was going to ask you the same thing,” you said.

He sat back. “I know.”

“I know you know.”

Hotch put his pen down. He absently glanced around the jet, as though assuring himself everyone was still asleep. Then, sighing, he returned his gaze to you. “Jack asked about his mother on the phone this morning.”

You frowned. “I’ve heard Jack talk about Haley before.”

“He has. Really, I encourage it. I wouldn’t want him to forget her. But he…” Hotch hesitated, the words so obviously clinging to the end of his tongue. For as much as he encouraged his team to talk to someone when they were struggling, he certainly didn’t act upon his own advice. Still, the rarity of it and the love you held for him made you the most patient you’d been.

“This morning,” Hotch continued quietly, “he asked specifically about her death.” Another pause, though only so he could take an encouraging breath. “He asked if Haley was shot in the head or the heart. Said he couldn’t remember which.”

You couldn’t say you weren’t taken aback, and Hotch noticed it immediately. He sat up straighter, apprehension entering his posture. “I’m sorry, Y/N,” he said, “I shouldn’t be saying this to you. You don’t need this.”

“Hey.” You shook your head to make sure he knew he’d gotten the wrong idea. “Neither do you. Share the load a bit. It’s okay.”

His gratitude was obvious as he relaxed a bit, sitting back against his seat and staring out the crack in the window. It was still dark, but the light from the moon highlighted the clouds as you passed. He found it easy to focus on them as he arranged his thoughts.

“He’s growing up,” he concluded eventually, “and he’s becoming more curious about his mom…it’s natural, I know, but it’s…”

“Terrifying?”

Hotch shrugged in defeat, yet a smile still pulled at his lips. “I’m not sure how Spencer did it with you,” he admitted.

You lifted yourself slightly to peer over the back of the seat. Your brother was still deep in sleep, utter innocence on his face. You found yourself smiling still when you sat back down to look at him. “You did it too, you know,” you said. At Hotch’s silence, you continued. “It wasn’t just Spence raising me. Of course, he did the majority of it, but I was nine when I met the rest of the team. You all raised me, you all had to let go of the fact I wasn’t a kid anymore at some point. If you can do it with me, you can do it again with Jack, I promise you.”

Hotch hadn’t thought about it like that, but your presence in the team always brought about new angles. It was true that Spencer’s addition to the team had included his younger sister, and it was also true that, whether prepared for it or not, they had all been surrogate parents to you in at least some way throughout your life. They had watched you grow up, imparted their own life lessons, and, yes, at some point, they had had to accept the fact that you didn’t need them quite so much anymore. He seemed to remember his own awakening had been when you’d come into his office at eighteen with a mug of coffee after claiming for years the taste was too bitter. Somehow, seeing you sat opposite him with one leg crossed over the other and occasionally sipping at your latte, realisation had snuck up on him that you absolutely was no longer the nine-year-old he’d used to have to clean chocolate from.

In more ways than one, the reminder soothed his soul, the parts of it aching for his little boy to remain little for just a while longer. He had always been afraid of the process, perhaps because each year Jack grew older marked another year without Haley.

With a hum of acknowledgement, Hotch ran a hand through his hair and nodded. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “Really. That’s helped.”

“Sometimes you just need a reminder,” you said. “You’ve done it before. Sure, this time will be a little different, but you’ve got the tools to make it work.”

Hotch frowned playfully. “Haven’t I said those exact words to you before?”

“No comment.”

He laughed then, with not much regard to the others sleeping on the plane, before stretching an arm out in obvious invitation. You felt a warmth immediately settle within you as you got up to sit beside him, settling in between him and his arm and accepting the bit of the duvet he passed along to you. You were a creature of habit, and since a child you had always found your comfort in the arms of one of the BAU team members, whoever happened to be closest. Such a comfort had naturally been less sought after as you’d grown older, especially from Hotch, but it only meant each offer from him was appreciated more.

“And don’t worry about Jack’s questions,” you whispered, shutting your eyes. “I remember having the same curiosities about my parents when I was growing up. I just wanted to know more about them, about myself.”

“I have a feeling I’ll be getting more.”

“Hmm.”

“Thanks again, Y/N.”

You yawned, the lull of the plane catching up to you once again. You leaned further into Hotch’s side and absently pat his hand sitting at your shoulder. Already half asleep, you murmured an “It’ll be okay”, not even reacting when Hotch pressed a small kiss to the crown of your head and pushed the documents he’d been working on to the other side of the table. He closed his own eyes, feeling somewhat at peace, with, really, the first of both his kids in his arms.

And if the team’s next go bags were mostly stuffed with pillows, blankets, and sleep masks…none of the jet’s staff ever mentioned it.

Criminal Minds Masterpost

[tadc-harlequin-au]

Hi! Please excuse any misspellings, english is not my frist language...

Firstly I just wanted to tell you that I love your AU! Your Harlequin au was what intorduced me to lovely TADC au Tumblr community and I absolutley love it! I haven't seen alternate universes as creative as these since the Sansverse era!

Secondly, I hace a question about the Patriarch: He seems to have a very good idea of who Caine is, wouldn't he be this world's equivalent to Able? I ask because althugh his design is WAY different from most fan Able depictions, he still has that "The Puppetmaster's brother" vibe that all Ables tend to have, a peace of Caine's past that he can never get rid of!

If he is not Able then I am curious of who he is, if he is then the lore just got spicier and if you don't want to spoil anything I'll understand.

But honestly: Keep it up! Your au has filled 70% of all my daydreams, the only thing I have been able to think about for a while has only been game mechanics, combat and chase sequences!

Damn y'all are fucking sleuths istg

Though I am very proud of that because that means my design philosophy worked somehow, and for that, I'll throw you guys a bone. And also because I can't keep it a secret any longer I've been holding it in since the very beginning of this au

YES.

The Patriarch of Puppets is none other than Abel, Caine's biological brother.

When I was first designing him, I wanted every aspect of Abel's design to scream "opposite of Caine", and to hold some form of symbolism. From his megaphone head, down to the color palettes, there is meaning. Don't get me wrong, Mushy's Able is a very memorable and awesome design and I could've incorporated him the same way I did Souls-like, but I wanted something deeper for Harlequin.

While Caine is adorned in golds and maroons to symbolize his warmer nature, Abel has teals and silver, a very cold and intimidating stature. Their outfits and the colors are an opposition towards each other yet reflect one another somehow, the way Abel dresses tightly and formal when Caine is loose and open, his intense red pupil conveys his hostility, whilst Caine's eyes are softer blues and greens.

His king-size height dwarfing Caine tells just how much the Puppetmaster felt living on his shadow, HELL, someone noticed the weird "A" on the sides of his head and I had to shrug it off because I didn't want to reveal it as early as that time.

Even the megaphone head design holds SO MUCH UNTOLD STORY BETWEEN THE BROTHERS THAT I WILL CHOOSE TO KEEP A SECRET FOR NOW. I've put SO MUCH THOUGHT behind his design.

*sigh*... Which is also why I very much dislike the "siren head" jokes, because it's the one thing I didn't really foresaw when I was developing his design until I finished, and someone pointed out it might cause jokes like that to prop up. Something I thought I wouldn't mind initially, until everyone made the same joke over and over again and I just audibly groan irl.

But you know. internet's gonna internet, they see one thing that resembles a popular media, it's an immediate connection. I didn't even give a shit enough about Siren head to know how the design actually looked like, just a silhouette of the guy.

Therefore, I would really appreciate it if saying this out loud would help lessen the jokes, but ik not everyone is going to see this post so.

I do still wanna thank you for your kind words, because these kinds of asks are the fuel to my fire of inspiration and motivation for this AU, and I wish that I can keep this fire going till the very end of this AU's story :')

[fandoms-in-law]

A Chain is Forged

Summary: Steve had noticed the webs of connections that meant the Upside Down was involved increasing, growing in prevalence around the town. He'd thought Starcourt Mall was safe from them. He didn't like learning that was because the webs were focused far underneath it.

Part of my witch Steve AU: au idea, Nets& Webs

Author's note: I have 3 more parts of this in the works. I just can't motivate myself to get them properly finished so thought posting this might help.

~

When he was told to get a job Steve wondered if he should have carried on retying his parents connections to him for the first time in years. He doubted it would change anything though, so carried on accepting the instruction.

If he did a couple of charms to ensure wherever accepted his application couldn’t be brought or bullied by his parents and should be somewhere he could find more important connections for himself, well, that was nobodies business but his own.

He hadn’t expected Scoops Ahoy to be the one that stuck though.

~

Thinner than a spiders thread but still strong; that was the connection that Steve saw appear for his coworker the day he started with Scoops Ahoy and it confused him.

There were two other staff members they might work with and both of them had embroidery floss connections, easily snapped, so he wasn’t sure why Robin was different, beyond the likelihood they’d share the most shifts together.

“Enough staring at the air, Harrington. We’ve got customers incoming.” She clicked where he’d been debating the string before pointing over the counter.

Perhaps the difference was that she didn’t care about who he’d been in school one bit and, even if she seemed to dislike him, was getting to honestly know him.

~

At least the mall didn’t appear to be a focus of the webs at the moment too.

Steve had looked after the first time they dealt with the Upside Down and spiders could build their webs quickly. Once when Nancy was trying to make him study in the library he’d even found a book that mentioned caves made of spiders webs.

It only made him call the web of the Upside Down’s connections a web more resolutely, but also he worried that would be the fate of Hawkins. It meant he kept watch on the connections around him, hoping they would never be swallowed into the web of monsters the lab had brought to it.

Each time he saw more webs appearing he wanted to tear and break them, but couldn’t bring himself to do so. What worse thing could doing that thoughtlessly cause?

~

“I don’t think we’re going to be heroes, Dustin.” Steve groaned.

He’d thought there was no chance the Russians had anything to do with the mess of webs the lab had caused growing recently; had hoped the webs that were near the mall were because of the tunnels from last time since none ever seemed to be in the building except when the kids and their connections from fighting it were around.

But now Erica and Robin were touching the web and they hadn’t left the damn lift yet.

“Doubted you would from the start. The army doesn’t like small town kids getting honours over them for this shit.” Robin quipped, “Why have you seen sense now?”

He shrugged, trying to think up a plausible excuse, “Unless we’re lucky hiding whenever those doors open we’re more likely to just be missing people, right now.”

“Then let’s get hiding places sorted now!” Dustin insisted, jumping up and looking at the various things in the lift with them.

Steve wasn’t hopeful that any hiding place would be good enough to save them.

~

Their hiding places had only delayed this. Stopping Dustin and Erica from getting captured too was barely a victory and Steve no longer cared about the damage he could be doing.

He was captured, had no guarantee the kids were safe and was certain that Robin wasn’t, so he was going to fight with every method he could.

His hands might’ve been restrained but he cut and hacked at every string, thread and rope the Russians in his cell had. They deserved no connections and he’d do all he could to make it so.

He’d answer questions, obscure anything he knew and tear away, seeing the changes, the anger and pain the bastards would never understand.

Even when they knocked him out he was grimly satisfied knowing he’d done more damage to them than any pain they could be putting Robin through or his kids might face.

~

There was another rope among his connections: That was Steve’s first thought when he woke after the torture, feeling the weight of his connections before any physical sensations.

He was right but also wrong. There was a new rope there, pulling off into the Russian basement, probably to Erica, he thought when he opened his eyes, but the weight came from a chain going behind him to Robin as she babbled pleas for him to wake up and threats to their capturers.

~

“I didn’t want the web to get you; To get anyone else.” Steve muttered into the toilet. Throwing up wasn’t fun, even if the high from whatever they’d been given had been and he blamed those two things for the empty belief that he could talk to the toilet in place of Robin and she wouldn’t hear.

Robin let out a confused grunt, “What web? Are you still drugged?”

“Yeah, throwing up doesn’t get rid of something injected. Are we still telling the truth?” He asked, glad there wasn’t any compulsion to explain more.

“Try lying to me, about whatever web you mentioned, maybe?” She offered, a thud suggesting she’d kicked her legs up the cubicle wall.

He groaned, deciding to give it a go and hoping she’d let him end after one sentence. Coming down from a beating and drugs was not how he wanted to explain his powers to anyone. “That’s what connections to the Upside Down look like. Okay, you tell me something now.”

“Not something you want to explain?” She wryly muttered, “Ask me something. I don’t know what to say.”

Steve shrugged, “When was the last time you wet yourself?”

He was listening and taking part in the conversation to the best of his abilities. He wanted to understand what Robin was saying and how she reacted to the confession he found himself making, but the chain distracted him.

It had changed colour when he described Robin as his crush, thrumming with emotion, and with everything they’d just gone through he couldn’t remember what a murky dark blue usually meant beyond that he’d usually been the one it came from in the past. It had been years since he’d seen the shade though: Of that Steve was sure.

He much preferred the rich green it became when he joked about Tammy being a dud, a playful, joyful colour that he tried to get the kids to show as often as he could.

~

The Upside Down was shut down and Steve hoped it would be for good now. Lingering webs did not support that hope, but at least they were far far fewer than had been around Hawkins just a few days before.

After the fire, Steve had gotten home late and only just mustered up the energy to shower before curling into his bed, whining when his injuries made getting comfortable so much more difficult.

He hadn’t been surprised that Robin called and then got her Dad to bring her over early the next morning and was actually more surprised that Dustin and Erica hadn’t tried the same thing. They had both radioed him instead, checking he was alive and updating him on anyone else they’d spoken to that morning. Erica did complain that now she had to copy her brother in asking for a radio which wasn’t cool at all.

“Why are there stones in your sofa, Steve?” Robin called, having been set on collapsing onto a couch while he got drinks and snacks.

Steve smiled at the question since most people didn’t notice them at all. “They’re crystals. Dad hates them.” He knew that wasn’t an explanation, but wanted to go into explaining how he could see connections as well as witchcraft slowly, with humour if possible now.

“Why are you hiding crystals in your sofa then?” Robin asked, watching as he carried the tray he’d put together through.

He shrugged after putting the tray down to avoid anything spilling, “First it was because they’re meant to encourage peace and communication but now it’s because my parents stay here less when I’ve got them placed. My dad is anything but peaceful apparently.”

“Is that like, witch stuff?” Her nose scrunched as if just asking that was absurd.

He nodded, “Yeah, but not to the extent you’re probably imagining now.”

She straightened, leaning towards him, looking eager, “Explain.”

~

A week had past since they fought the mindflayer and Robin became the first person Steve fully explained his witchcraft too and one thing kept confusing Steve.

Usually if a connection confused him, he’d have to just watch, try and learn from seeing how the person it was for interacted, and make guesses, but this was multiple connections and he could talk to Robin about them now.

That was why after all the kids had been with him for the afternoon, he began, “I don’t get it. The connections didn’t change.”

Robin looked from him, to the door as if one of the kids would come back in to explain, “What connections?”

“To Hopper.” Steve pointed out the door. “Nobodies connections changed except growing sad.”

She frowned at him, stating as if he was missing something obvious, “Well, he did die.”

“These aren’t connections to someone dead! I’ve seen those with Barbara Holland and Bob Newby. They change when someone dies. Hopper’s haven’t.” He folded his arms with a huff, “And I don’t get it.”

“Do you think he survived?” Robin asked slowly, but had to follow it up with the obvious next question, “Why wouldn’t he have come to us then?”

Steve looked at her thinking, his expression slowly getting sadder, “I’m going to strengthen those connections and do everything I can to send him help, but yeah, I guess the happier alternative for now is depressingly that he died.”

[yandereshingeki]

Milk, Honey, and Sugar

Yandere Eren x Reader

Milk Honey and Sugar Masterlist

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Word Count: 12.7k

Content: College AU, Yandere content, Obsessive and Possessive behavior, Fluff, Smut, Dark content, Jiyuu beloved

Content Warnings: Stockholm Syndrome, Obsessive Behavior, Eren is a bit of a pervert, but somehow also shy about it, reader going thru it, Eren is described at taller than reader, Pet names (Angel, Baby), Dubcon (from stockholm syndrome), Eren is SO WEAK TO YOU, you’re both a bit shy, Reader is implied to be a tiny bit insecure, Tiddy sucking, Falacio, hand job, Little bit of subby! Eren but only a little, description of Eren’s dick lol, reader makes him CRY, mention of him pulling their hair a little, a smidge of edging, aftercare

Summary: After the realization hits that you aren't ever going to see your friends again, Eren is the one to comfort you—slowly turning you more and more dependent on him.

Oh my goddd It's been so long and I'm so sorry!!! A bunch of things got in the way of me writing for a while, but It's finally back! I'm going to try to focus on this series more so hopefully, there won't be such a big gap in posting again! I already have the next part nearly finished so it shouldn't be long before the next chapter! Also, I'd like to say thank you to anyone that's still here after my absence and anyone that's been here from before :,,) I'm so grateful. I hope this is enough to satisfy until the next chapter! There's a little doodle at the end for you all <33 Can't wait to write the most exciting parts of the story!! (In my opinion at least, lol) Please enjoyy

Chapter 7: Warmth (part 1)

The hours grew longer the more days you spent alone.

Your world was quiet, apart from the tick of the plastic analog clock or the occasional sound of water going through pipes and creaking footsteps from above. Being stuck on your own was such a lonely, stir-crazy existence. The only time you found solace from it was when Eren would make his way down the stairs, greeting you with his abnormally gentle smile and a soft kiss, giving you the company you constantly longed for and sometimes a consoling meal.

He had you wrapped around his finger by now, so tired of the isolation and quiet that you’d do almost anything if it meant he’d stay, just to ease your loneliness for a while. He was a distraction you took with little resistance because you didn’t want to think about the pain of being trapped for even a second.

He seemed to be the only thing that helped your ever-fragile mood, the one thing keeping you grounded as your mental stability frayed. It was hell when he would leave you, forcing you to face the cold basement alone again. You’d try to sleep through it, but sometimes your brain wouldn’t quiet and your emotions would explode to the point that you’d bawl your eyes out and sob until your nose was clogged and your head ached, your mind plagued with the overbearing thoughts of your long-gone friends and freedom. If they’d been looking, you were sure they would have found you by now. It should’ve been so obvious who’d taken you. Or maybe, everyone was too trusting of Eren to realize that deep down, he was an obsessive stalker, someone who kidnapped his best friend. 

Either way, your hope of being found had almost completely diminished. With no access to the outside world, you didn’t even know if a search was ongoing. You had no motivation anymore, even for escape—although it’s not like you could because Eren hadn’t let you go upstairs since your last attempt. He hadn’t touched you the same way he did that night either, occasionally letting his soft kisses grow more heated but never going as far as he did then. You almost missed it. The intimacy, that is. He’d been nothing but sweet to you most of the time, even when all you could do was cry into him.

You felt pathetic being in such a state, constantly switching between craving his presence and despising him for taking you away. You barely felt deserving of being rescued since you gave in to your captor so quickly. Would anyone even want to help you if they knew what you’d done with him? How close you’d remained even after his betrayal? It brought a sick feeling to your stomach whenever you thought about it. All of the lame excuses and blaming your actions on your once adolescent crush or your dwindling will to escape. You knew the truth, yet you still didn’t want to admit it.

It’d been four weeks since your failed escape, and just a little over a month of being stuck in the basement—not that you even knew the specifics of how long it’d been because of how your days began to blend. Since your attempt, Eren spent more time downstairs, sometimes taking his entire day off to stay with you, slowly making you more dependent on his presence because it was all you had. 

Akin to every other day, it started with his journey down, breakfast in hand and laptop under his arm, the device fully charged and ready for another day of playing offline games and watching videos or movies. But, also like every other day, his plans, per usual, were halted when he reached the bottom of the steps and saw you curled up on the bed, crying into your palms. 

His guilt overflowed whenever he saw you like that, but he pushed it away when he remembered all the things that could’ve happened if he hadn’t brought you here. All of the people that could have gotten to you, the things they could have done to you. It made him irrationally angry just thinking about it. In his house, you were safe, and he always knew where you were. To him, that was worth the pain it brought you.

Laying everything on the desk, he rushed to sit next to you, trapping you in his comforting arms and pulling you into his lap, “What’s wrong, baby?” 

He always asked that when you cried, always with the same pet names he’d use to try and ease your tears. You always replied that you didn’t want to discuss it, but he knew what the truth behind your sadness was. He knew it was because you missed everyone and you were terrified of telling him. 

“I don’t wanna talk about it right now.” You said, as usual, voice hoarse from tears that’d been pouring since you woke up. You put your head against him, soaking the white pajama t-shirt while he rubbed your back and cradled you like a child. His warmth and his pleasant autumn-like scent made it harder to focus on your problems, the comfort pulling you back to him in an instant. Sometimes it was like you were addicted, craving the constant reassurance of his presence and the distraction from your situation. 

This had become almost routine—he would come downstairs or wake up with you, find you crying, and drop everything to comfort you, just to continue whatever he had planned for the day after as if nothing happened. It was such an exhausting pattern for you, but he couldn't care less. All he cared for was being able to have you with him where you were safe. Being able to hold and touch you was just a bonus.

He held you as tight as he could, trying to make you feel secure while compressed in his arms. You could only snuggle into him, pushing your ear against his chest to listen to his racing heart. It was a calming and familiar white noise that helped distract you from the fact that you were probably never going to get out. It helped you feel sane and reminded you that Eren was another human too.

He sighed feeling you ease into him, finally safe enough to relax too. The room was quiet other than the gentle sounds of breathing and the mechanical ticking of the clock. It was almost peaceful like this, just the two of you cuddled up together. Listening to each other’s soft sounds and finding comfort in them.

“Can I have breakfast now?” You asked, your voice still crackling from your dry throat. You were sniffling and your face was still wet from past tears, but you were more hungry than upset now and didn’t want to wait for food anymore.

Eren smiled and slid you off his lap, making sure to plant a loving kiss on your forehead before he got up to grab the wooden breakfast tray from the desk. He walked back, setting it on your lap and revealing the stack of 4 heart-shaped pancakes to you that still radiated the warmth from being cooked. There was a tiny plate of butter and a cup of syrup sitting next to it, along with a ceramic mug of Eren’s favorite drink, his warm milk with honey and sugar mixed in. He always used to give it to you every time you came over, trying desperately to get you to favor it, and every time it always tasted bland. Not bad, but it didn’t fit your normal preference for drinks.

Recently though, whenever he’d give it to you with your breakfast, it was much sweeter than before. The milk and honey blended together with a pinch of dissolved sugar just tasted saccharine all of a sudden.

At first, you questioned if he spiked it, but when nothing happened after you drank it, you abandoned the idea. It felt so strange to suddenly enjoy something you’d been so indifferent about, but you didn’t want to overthink it. After all, you just wanted to enjoy the warmth from whatever he made you—to enjoy his warmth because it was all you had. 

“Well, are you going to eat?” Eren asked, questioning why you were staring at your food for so long.

Realizing that you’d spaced out while deep in thought, you muttered a quick “sorry” before grabbing the dull plastic knife on the tray to spread the butter over your pancakes.

While you were preparing your breakfast to your liking, Eren sat on the bed again, placing his arm behind you and sliding as close as he could without getting in your way, your thighs pressing together and his cheek almost touching your head.

He watched intensely as you cut into the syrup-soaked cake and stabbed into the small piece you separated, chomping down on it. As you chewed and swallowed it, he leaned his head on yours to get your attention, “Is it good? Did you like it?”

Nodding your head, you cut out another piece to shove into your mouth, “They’re really good! Did you make them from scratch?”

Eren smiled, feeling his heart melt when you gave him praise. He always ate up every little compliment you gave him, no matter how small it was. It was like a hit of dopamine every time you were even the tiniest bit nice—and he was addicted to it. Once he’d even kicked his legs and squealed into his pillow after you commented that he looked hot in a picture he posted, but that was a secret he would be taking to his grave.

“It’s my mom’s recipe… I just made them with a heart-shaped pan for the shape.” He replied, leaning into you and burying his face into the side of your neck while you continued to eat.

“I didn’t know you owned a heart-shaped pan,” You paused mid-bite, “When did that happen?”

“I got it when all of the Valentine's Day stuff was on clearance in stores… I just hid it in my room because I didn’t want anyone to see it while they were here.” He explained, his cheeks warming up at the thought of someone other than you seeing he owned such a bright pink and heart-shaped pan.

You giggled at his embarrassment and kept eating, enjoying the sweet syrup-soaked pancakes while you could. They were delicious, but especially warm compared to everything else, and you were so desperate to have that warmth that you were scarfing them down and barely savoring the taste. The sweet milk with honey came next, the most familiar part of the meal. You chugged it down so fast that you could feel its heat travel down to your stomach, officially ending your breakfast that morning.

It almost made you sad whenever you finished your food. You always felt extra cold after, especially without Eren there. It was never fun to experience.

“All done?” Eren asked, not allowing you a response before taking the tray from you. He placed it on the nightstand at the foot of the bed and went back to you, pushing you onto your back and crawling on top of you without warning. 

After taking a moment to maneuver himself around and get more comfortable, he placed his head on your shoulder and embraced you, the weight of his body crushing you into the mattress. It hurt a little and almost restricted your breathing, but having what was similar to a heated and weighted blanket on top of you was nice. 

He always did this when you finished your breakfast. It was one of his favorite things to do too. He loved being close to you, breathing in your scent and littering tiny kisses all over your neck and collarbone. It felt wonderful to claim you like that.

As you cocooned him with your limbs, he wriggled his way down until his head met your chest, putting his face between your breasts and squeezing you so they squished against his face. You let a gasp slip, face growing hot as a large smile formed on his lips. 

You tried to push against him to get him off, but you struggled immensely from his weight compared to your strength. It took almost all your energy to get him to budge, but he finally got the hint and sat up after minutes of your whining and squirming—only to grab your chest and squeeze as soon as his hands were free. 

You flinched and simultaneously gasped at the sudden grope, yelling at him with fake anger while batting his arms, “You’re such a fucking perv!” 

He chuckled and put his hand on the bed to lean down, his reddened cheeks so close to yours that you could feel his breath against your face, “Yeah, sure. But you love me, don’t you?”

You were silent while you considered what to say, afraid to lie to him but knowing that if you gave him any answer other than yes, he’d probably lose it on you. You did love him. You really did, but not in the way he wanted you to. You didn’t think you did, at least. He was just a safe space for you. A source of comfort while you were trapped. That didn’t mean you loved him, did it?

Growing insecure at your lack of response, Eren squeezed your arm just tight enough to regain your attention and asked you again, this time with more desperation lingering,  “Don’t you, angel?”

Without thinking it over more, you gave him an unconvincing answer, “Yes. I do.”

Satisfied with your response, he gave you a quick peck on the lips and got up to grab his laptop from the desk. You watched him carefully the whole time, sitting up and eyeing him as he picked up the small computer and carried it back to you. 

He placed carefully it in your lap, plopping down and leaning into you like he did during breakfast, his arm slung around your waist. You stared at the sticker-covered computer in your lap, your hands trembling while you considered asking him about going back upstairs again instead of spending another day in bed binging a random show you chose. 

You’d asked previously, even begged him to give you another chance, but his answer was always the same. He’d tell you that he isn’t ready for that, or that he doesn’t trust you yet. If you tried to ask repeatedly or beg for it, he would get angry with you and even lash out, leaving you alone for the entire day as a punishment, no matter how loud your cries got or how much it stung him to hear them. 

“Can I ask something before we start, Eren?” You managed to get out, your words shaking as you spoke.

You could feel him tense up next to you as you asked, his gaze now fixated on the laptop instead of you.

“What is it?” He asked, already knowing the answer. 

You opened your mouth to talk but stuttered so much trying to get the first word out that you had to pause again before talking.

“Can I go upstairs for the day?” You pleaded, quickly adding onto it so he couldn’t instantly deny you, “I’ll do anything you want! Please! I just… want to leave the basement for a while.”

Silence followed.

You were shaking, terrified of what he was thinking. He was staring at the floor, his brows furrowed as he ran through all of his options. He wasn’t angry, not yet at least. He only would be if you pushed for it too much, but he still hated having to answer that question. Why couldn’t you just be happy with what he gave you? He understood that you were bored and lonely, but it was still frustrating. It was so, so frustrating.

“I don’t know if I can trust you yet,” was all he could manage in response, because If he said any more or got too aggressive there would be tears. And he was so weak to your tears. It was the sole reason he always had to leave you when you cried to be let out. If he stayed, his already weak spirit might break, and then you could weave your way into having your way and escaping. He didn’t want to risk anything close to that.

Despite his effort to avoid it, tears began to prickle in the corner of your eyes, almost as if on command. You wanted to leave so badly that you were partially willing to give up your hope of escape if it meant you could at least have that. You would give all of it, just to have that ounce of freedom and self-autonomy back. 

“I don’t want to leave anymore, Eren! I promise! Chain my ankles or handcuff me to you, whatever!  Please, just let me go upstairs with you!” You begged. It was evident you were pushing his limit with the look that took over his face, but you didn’t know what else you could do to convince him.

Eren shut his eyes, the frown on his face deepening, “Baby, please. Don’t do this today.”

“Please, Eren. Please.” You begged again, the first fearful tear spilling over your cheek. The look you gave him was painful, his chest tightening the longer he stared at you. You’d done this almost every day for the last week and it was so aggravating. He hated being separated from you but you forced it on him by pleading so often.

He looked away from you and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands as he snapped at you, “Why? Why do you want to so badly?! Can’t you just be happy with what I give you?” 

He finished with a sigh and waited quietly for your response, but nothing came. You were silent. 

It took Eren several moments to realize that you weren’t going to talk back, so when he finally lifted his head and looked at you, the sight ripped his heart in two.

You had your eyes squeezed shut and your mouth covered as you sobbed into it, trying to hide the sounds so you wouldn’t irritate him more, but seeing you cry like that with such obvious fear diminished any anger he had. He hated being the cause of your tears. He hated it.

Pulling you into his arms again and pushing the laptop aside, he apologized profusely and held you tighter. You whimpered into him, gripping his shirt while he pushed your face against his chest. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry… I’m sorry for snapping, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He had his hand on your head, digging his fingers into your hair while he repeated his apology, “Please stop crying. Please, you know I hate hearing you cry.”

You hiccuped, holding your breath to choke down your tears. You held it in for a few more moments until you couldn’t anymore, taking an involuntary breath and sobbing into his shirt. In a poor attempt to silence it, you covered your mouth while you cried, quietly begging him not to leave you between sobs. It broke his heart. 

He tried to reassure you, hugging you tightly and petting your head while he cooed, “I won’t leave. I won’t leave this time.”

It took a while, but following a few violent hiccups, silenced sobs, and deep, difficult inhales, your tears were dissipating and you were calming down, clinging to Eren as if your life depended on it. 

He held you close, basking in your touch. He knew why you wanted to leave the basement. He was stupid to think that being trapped there would be enough for you, but after the last time he let you up, he was terrified that you’d try to leave again. If you ever did manage to get away from him, it would mean he’d lose everything, and he didn’t even want to think about that happening. 

You needed to stay with him, where you were safe. Where he could watch over you. But, it was clear you also needed at least a little freedom, otherwise, your mental state could deteriorate even more than it already had, and that would be just as bad as losing you through escape. He didn’t want to reduce you to a shell of your former self. He didn’t want to break you. He just wanted to keep you to himself.

Thinking it over some more while you were wiping your face on his shirt, Eren decided to go against his better judgment and give in to what you wanted, which was exactly what he had been trying to avoid. It was easier that way, considering you were both feeling awful about your situation.

“I’ll—I’ll take you upstairs. I’ll take you upstairs today.” He blurted out, sounding reluctant to say it out loud.

Your entire mood had changed from just that sentence, perking your head up so you could meet his eyes from where you sat on his lap. Eyes wide with excitement, they were lighting up more than they had in the month you’d been stuck there. It was nice for him to see. He’d missed that sparkle so much. 

“I’ll only let you come up if you follow my rules though, okay? If you break them I’m sending you back down and I won’t even think about letting you up for at least a year.” He aggressively added to his previous statement, wanting to be clear with what he expected of you so there wouldn’t be any complaints later.

You rapidly nodded your head, getting ready to agree to whatever he asked if it meant getting that slight sliver of freedom in the end. Lucky for you, he didn’t want to take advantage of your eagerness—not too much at least. He loved you too much to hurt you like that.

With a small sigh, Eren slid you off of his lap and took his laptop, holding out his hand for you after he got up. You took it with a large smile plastered on your face, pulling yourself onto your feet and practically skipping to the stairs because of how happy you were. He was slow to follow after you, not particularly joyful about letting you out of the safe haven he’d created for you, but still willing to if it meant he got to see your bright smile again.

Once he made it to the top, he was hesitant to unlock the door. He really didn’t want to let you out, but when he looked over and saw how excited you looked standing next to him, he couldn’t help but picture how upset you were just prior, and how quickly that changed when he said you could go upstairs. Keeping you locked up and to himself was already selfish enough, he didn’t want to keep suffering even more in a cold basement for his own benefit.

Before he went through the final step of opening the door, he grabbed your hand and squeezed it tight. He was trying to make sure you couldn’t just run off, but also trying to reassure himself that he was doing the right thing. With a final heavy sigh, he unlocked the door and turned the knob with his laptop under his arm, pushing it open and revealing the dim light of morning to you.

You tried to run, not with a hope to escape but more so out of excitement—but Eren was quick to pull you back to him and remind you of your place.

“Don’t forget what I told you.” He spoke sternly, the grip on your hand growing tighter to the point that it hurt. 

His rules—to behave. To do what he asked. From the first time he let you upstairs. The same rules that you broke the last time you were here, and not just because he was vague about what “behaving” meant. Of course, you couldn’t forget.

You sounded dejected as you looked at the creaky wooden floor, “I’m just… excited. Sorry.” 

Sighing, he sauntered forward while pushing you with him, taking the lead but ultimately doing what you wanted by going to the living room. 

Jiyuu got visibly excited when you walked into his view, his fluffy wings opening up slightly while he paced back and forth on the giant bird tree across the room, considering if it was worth it to fly over. 

Eren stopped in his tracks, a small smile brightening his face when he realized what the bird wanted. He always thought it was sweet that he liked you, despite parrots' common behavior of being possessive over their owner. It also made your integration into his home a lot easier, so he wouldn’t have to worry about the bird going after you whenever he was affectionate with you.

“Why don’t you go pick him up?” He asked, trying to push you forward, closer to Jiyuu. 

Excited to see the bird—a living creature other than Eren—but terrified of doing something wrong and being punished for it, you turned to look at him, asking for reassurance that this wasn’t a trap, “Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’m sure. I won’t be mad at you for walking away from me this time.” He assured you, the hand on your back pushing you even further, harsher this time to the point you almost stumbled.

You stepped forward with hesitance, slowly gaining confidence the closer you got to Jiyuu, your saving grace from complete isolation with Eren. Watching carefully, Eren stayed behind, his gaze burning holes into the back of your head. It made you so nervous, his eyes fixated on your every move. Being watched so closely was highly unpleasant and anxiety-inducing, and you could tell that Jiyuu didn’t like it either.

Climbing onto you when you held your arm out, Jiyuu was quick to run to your shoulder and puff his feathers up, squawking loudly at Eren. He’d never been especially protective of you, nor aggressive towards Eren, so this behavior was completely new—at least to you. It was especially shocking because of how loud he was able to scream, the sound triggering a constant ringing in your ears. 

“Eren? What’s wrong with him?” You panicked, turning to see what the bird was so upset about that he had to shriek, only to be face-to-face with Eren. His knees bent slightly so he met your height, startling you even more when you unexpectedly met his piercing green pupils.

His eyes were glued to the bird, his hand lifted in front of him so he would step up from your shoulder. To your surprise, the bird nipped at his hand and chewed on it, stepping on it when he was finished and acting like he hadn’t just screamed at him. “He’s just being moody. Don’t mind it too much, he just gets like this sometimes, ‘specially when I’m not in the best mood. He can tell.”

As he put Jiyuu back on the tree stand to chew on more of his toys, he walked closer and wrapped his arm around you, practically forcing you into his chest with his laptop pressed against your back. When his other hand was free from the bird’s talons, it joined his other to squeeze you tightly, keeping you close as he leaned over you, inhaling the comforting scent from your skin and hair.

You returned the hug, trying to distract yourself from the sinking feeling you had in your chest when he implied that he wasn’t in a good mood. It was obvious it was because of you—because you wanted to go upstairs. It made you feel so guilty, but also so afraid. He could be unpredictable when he was upset, which is probably why Jiyuu didn’t like it either.

“Why don’t we just watch some TV for now? Since he’s in such a bad mood and I still want to laze around…” He spoke up, backing away but leaving little space between you and him.

Without a thought, you nodded, ready to agree to almost anything as long as it would improve his mood and keep you out of your personal hell known as the basement. With your compliance, he was quick to drag you back onto the couch, setting the laptop down on the coffee table and pouncing, crushing you under his weight. Your whines went ignored by him in favor of grabbing the remote to activate the TV, bringing up the news before he swiftly changed it to an on-demand streaming service. He put on one of your favorite shows—one you’d already watched, probably dozens of times since you’d come here—and threw the controller

down, burying his face into your chest and engulfing you in his arms.

Resting your hands on his back when you finally processed everything he’d sped through in seconds, you focused more on him than the TV, although only able to see the top of his head and his messy bun. His face was buried between your boobs again, except this time, instead of smiling and teasing you about it, he shut his eyes and eased into you, feeling secure enough to relax with you trapped underneath him. The shift in mood was apparent, but all you could think to do was run your hands through his hair, hoping that would soothe him enough to think about letting you stay upstairs more often. 

It was silent after that, besides the background noise of the TV playing and Jiyuu preening his feathers and chewing wood. You were both clinging to each other, unmoving and resting. Eren was so warm, it almost made you tired—but you didn’t want to sleep. Not when you were finally experiencing what you’d wanted so badly for weeks. You longed to walk around and explore the house more, but he probably wouldn’t let you. It was frustrating.

“Eren?” You said, trying to get his attention on you instead of whatever he was thinking about in the silence.

He hummed in reply, not bothering to lift his head because he was too comfortable with his face against your chest. 

You twirled some of his loose hair between your fingers, silently trying to persuade him as you asked, “Can we go to your room? I want to see more than just your living room and kitchen.” 

Before you could continue with your long-winded speech trying to convince him to let you go to a different part of the house, he interrupted you with a finger over your lips, letting out a muffled “mm-mm” while he shook his head that was still against your chest. You frowned, moving his finger away from your mouth and continuing to push, “Why not?”

A scowl took over his face as he peered up at you, his chin stabbing into your sternum when he replied with aggressive venom in his tone, “Because I said no. Drop it.”

Once you nodded, a look of stinging fear glazing your eyes, his expression relaxed and he put his face back into your chest. Although your response calmed him, his answer did nothing to satiate your curiosity. You’d been in his room a few times prior to the kidnapping, so what was so different about now?

You let out a small sigh, continuing to run your hands through his hair but turning your attention towards the TV that still played your favorite show, although you’d begun to get rather tired of it after watching it over and over so much. Especially now, when watching different shows and dramas was all Eren had let you do aside from occasionally letting you play games on his laptop. As relaxing as the routine used to be, it was starting to grow excruciatingly dull. There were only so many days you could do nothing but laze around before you grew tired of it.

“Eren.” You began again, desperate for something to entertain you. You didn’t want to spend all your time out of the basement doing the same thing you did in it.

With a quiet groan, he lifted his head again and frowned, “What now?”

“I’m bored… I want to do something other than watch TV.”

Realizing that you weren’t trying to annoy him about getting into his room again, his eyes softened and he replied with a sweeter tone, “Like what?”

“I don’t know. You have games, don’t you?”

“In my room, yeah. But I don’t want you going in there right now and I’m not leaving you alone to grab anything.”

“Then what else can we do?”

When you asked, his brows scrunched together and he averted your gaze, deep in thought. You watched carefully, worried that he would become irate if you were too talkative while he was trying to relax. 

Slowly, his cheeks darkened as an idea popped into his head—one he’d usually tried to push away so that he wouldn’t risk making you feel uncomfortable with your already fragile emotional state, but right now? You seemed to be in a better mood, and much more content with doing just about anything to ease your boredom. There was nothing to stand in the way of his selfish desires.

Noticing the way his former annoyance bloomed into a red-faced fluster, you grew worried and tried to turn his head so he’d look at you, only for him to avoid meeting your eyes. His cheeks were burning hot to the touch and you could tell he had something on his mind.

“What’s wrong?” You tried to ask calmly despite the tremble in your voice, mentally preparing yourself for whatever emotion he might reply with.

A silent pause followed, and he barely managed to stutter it out, his hesitancy to explain his thoughts holding the words back, “I thought of something we could do if you are really that against just watching TV, but—but it’s kind of lewd. It’s—It’s really lewd actually.”

You could feel your cheeks grow warm at all the things that could mean, quietly urging him to continue out of curiosity about his desire, “Yes…? What is it?”

He was quiet again before he met your eyes, replying with a faltering voice full of anxiety, “I was thinking that maybe… we could take turns touching each other, and we could—I could learn more about your body… and we could make it into a game, I guess? If you really want to, the person who finds the most sensitive spots on the other person could win. That would make it more fun, right? Would something like that interest you more than TV?”

He stared at you with pleading puppy eyes while awaiting your response, his pupils swallowing his irises that practically glowed as they peered into your soul. 

Your entire face burned hot, now matching his. You were like shy kids confessing to each other, so tense and unnerved. 

Speaking with an unfamiliar kind of softness in his voice, he sounded like he would explode with embarrassment if you didn’t respond well, “We don’t have to, but I just—I just really want to touch you again. Even without the ‘game’ part. I’ve missed it. A lot.” 

He felt so perverted just saying it out loud.

His offer was tempting, but you didn’t know if you could trust it. Your judgment had felt so clouded recently and you’d been giving into him more under the guise of gaining enough freedom to escape, but how much would you need before you tried to leave again? The thought of escaping was crossing your mind less and less, and you were growing used to being with only Eren all the time, getting dangerously close to enjoying it. 

Part of you was terrified of ever leaving, terrified of how your friends would react when they found out what you’d already let him do to you, and terrified of leaving what you’d just started becoming accustomed to—but another part of you was terrified to stay. If you did, how far would things go? How deep of a hole would you dig for yourself before it was too late to get out?

“We don’t have to!” He repeated, pulling you out of your thoughts, “I could just find something else for us to do if you don’t want to,”

“It’s okay! It’s fine, it’s fine. We can do that.” You blurted out without processing what you were saying. The last thing you wanted was to upset him, so satisfying him was the only option even if it went against your better judgment. You could deal with the guilt later, but right now you had to focus on keeping his trust. Besides, it wouldn’t hurt to give in and have a little fun with someone you’d trusted while you could, take advantage and get the experience you missed out on years before. You’d rather it be him than a stranger. That’s what you told yourself, at least.

“Really? Are you sure?” He asked again to reassure your consent while his lips shifted into a sly smile.

No. You weren’t. But you’d already made your bed, and you’d rather lie in it than rip off the sheets and start from the beginning, “Yeah. I am.”

There was a small moment of silence, the two of you staring at each other before he jumped off of the couch, swiftly making his way to the tree where Jiyuu was. He was quick to take his feathery friend to his cage, closing the door and covering it with the blanket he’d normally only use for him at night. Despite the bird's clear displeasure of being put to bed early, showcased through his sad-sounding caws as the cage was locked, he left the cover on and returned to you on the couch, towering over you with half-lidded eyes and a beet-red face.

“Uh, could you get on my lap when I sit down?” He asked timidly, placing a hand on your shoulder. 

You responded by nodding and sliding to the side, allowing him to sit while he dragged you onto his lap to straddle him.

Once again, it grew quiet. You were looking at anything but each other, the awkward tension making it difficult to keep eye contact. You were both used to intimate actions, but not intimate words, so anything you thought of saying fell short before it could leave your lips. 

It felt like you were fumbling teenagers again, lacking experience and not knowing where to begin—although Eren was the only one of you who had any to begin with. The most you had under your belt was some awkward and sloppy kissing between you and your short-term ex-boyfriends from high school, but he didn’t know that.

“Since this is a game… Do I get anything if I win?” You asked first, trying to break the ice and guarantee at least something good would come out of this.

You watched the cogs turn in Eren’s head for a moment before he responded, trying to figure out how to word it so that you didn’t request anything unreasonable after his answer, “I guess you can have something… Just tell me what, as long as it doesn’t have anything to do with leaving.”

It only took you a minute to decide what you wanted, the idea popping into your head rather quickly when you thought about what he would actually be willing to give, “Can I go in your room?”

He sighed hearing your response, a cross glare in his eyes while he reluctantly acceded, “Fine, but only if you A, win, and B, give me until tomorrow to clean it.”

The excitement you had grew rapidly, but just as it peaked, it dissipated when you remembered what you would have to do to get your reward, and the fact that it wasn’t guaranteed in the first place. The small smile that’d grown on your face faded once you realized it, and then the pressure ramped up once again.

“So…” He finally began, a short pause holding him while his eyes drifted down to your chest, his hands landing on your hips where he rubbed small circles into them with his thumbs, “Where should we start?”

You were both anxious, but he was the only one trying to hide it. His hands were shaking, but he tried to mask it with subtle movements down your plush thighs. He wanted to touch you. He wanted to feel all of you and run his hands over your entire body—but he wanted to make sure you wanted it too. He needed you to want it too.

“Wherever you want,” you replied, too nervous to say much else. His hands felt like fire against your cold skin, the feeling of them gliding over your body making your cheeks boil. 

His fingers grazed down to your knees and back up your body, stopping just below your chest to speak quietly, “I want to touch you everywhere though.” 

It was obvious what he wanted to do, but was too nervous to do it. His brows scrunched together while he stared at your chest, sunken in thought. The sight almost had you giggling from how silly he looked like that, so deeply focused on your breasts. To try and urge him forward and get past both of your anxieties, you slowly intertwined your fingers with his, leading his hands up to grope you.

His eyes flicked up to you as he made contact with your chest again, his gaze relaxing and eyes lighting up as they stared into yours. You looked so pretty in your current position, sitting on his lap with your cute thighs squished against him, your hands covering his, and your gorgeous eyes shying away from his stare. 

“Can I kiss you? Please?” He asked, leaning in so close that you could feel the heat radiating off of his crimson face while he squeezed you.

Letting out a small squeak from his grip, you decided to skip the verbal reply and gently pushed your lips against his, your noses bumping awkwardly because you were hesitant to do anything that could deepen the kiss further. Despite this, Eren missed the cue and tilted his head to the side, trying desperately to interlock your lips and part yours.

His groping grew rougher as he relaxed, fingers touching your nipples through the thin shirt you wore, the fabric barely shielding how hard they were growing. Your face was burning while he felt you up, sweat beading on your forehead when something stiff pressed against your crotch. 

It was so warm. Everything about him was warm. His body, his demeanor, even his smell. It was all so warm compared to the cold you always felt. Even before he took you away, it was always cold. But he was so warm.

“Eren…” you mumbled into his lips, your pulse rising and your arms falling over his shoulders.

He pulled away for a moment, face still inches away from yours, “What is it?”

“You’re warm.”

You could feel him chuckle as you said it, responding with “So are you.”

He kissed you again, this time carefully pushing his tongue between your lips in a way that was less than forceful and moving one of his hands to the back of your neck to hold you there. His touch sent tingles up your spine, your body melting into his hands. It was like your integrity burned away when he was close, and you couldn’t help but crave more.

Eren’s other palm slipped under your shirt, sliding up your stomach and squeezing your bare breast before lifting the fabric further. Your body tensed again, suddenly growing anxious at the thought of him seeing your chest nude. It’s not like he hadn’t before, but it was only now that it felt so nerve-wracking. You couldn’t pinpoint why, but now the thought made your heart race.

When he finally pulled his face away from yours, giving you time to breathe, it was only so he could pull your shirt over your head and throw it aside. Following that, his mouth was back on yours and he was reaching for your chest again—but this time, you stopped him. You took your arms off his neck to cover yourself, anxiety pulsing at the thought of him looking at you more. You didn’t feel this way the other times you’d been nude around him, so why were you so nervous now? Everything was burning all of a sudden, and it almost made you feel sick.

“Hey, is something wrong?” Eren questioned in his sweetest voice, attempting to quell your sudden fear by backing off to cup your cheek, his other hand resting on your thigh. You tried to look him in the eyes, but your stomach sank when you met them. His irises were the brightest, most intimidating green that made your heart ache, you couldn’t stand to stare. 

“I’m—I’m kind of scared.” You stammered, staring down at his hand while his thumb rubbed small circles into your skin.

His brows furrowed as he overthought what you said, “Just… all of a sudden? It wasn’t like this before, why now?” 

He didn’t mean to seem angry, but his expression showed the opposite. So, feeling pressured with a slight tinge of fear in your eyes, you quietly apologized and began to uncover yourself, afraid of upsetting him and causing any harm that might get you sent back downstairs. He stopped you immediately, grabbing your wrists and holding them so your arms still covered you. 

“Don’t apologize… It’s fine if you don’t want to.” He reassured, reaching to grab your shirt beside him on the couch, “I don’t want to do anything if you don’t want to.”

Sadness laced his tone, his expression matching it as he pulled the garment over your head. It wasn’t because you were hesitant to go further with him, you knew that, but your heart hurt to see him making such a face. So sad, even with the tiny smile on his lips that was meant to reassure you. It was more than just wanting to stay upstairs. You wanted to make him feel happy. Even if you felt guilty about how you would do it.

“No, no, Eren…” You stopped him from pulling the shirt down, pushing it back over your chest while you wiped your watering eyes with your other arm. “It’s—It’s not that. I'm just—I’m—So nervous.” 

“What are you nervous about?” He asked, trying to avoid the temptation of looking at your now bare torso while he addressed the issue at hand. 

“I don’t know,” you started, mentally going through the list of things that were making you anxious to find something to say other than the truth about the shame you felt, “This is just… a lot different than the last few times you’ve seen me naked. You’re so close so you’re going to see… everything.”

“I don’t care what they look like. The only thing I care about is that it’s you.” He grabbed your hands and squeezed them, cheeks blazing red as he leaned close to you to confess, “You’re perfect to me. So perfect.”

Your heart began to swell again, this time for a different reason. 

He always made you feel so wanted, even before he took you away, his words like a warm blanket around your needy heart. It almost had you crawling into his hold, with no intention of ever leaving. No one ever praised you like he did, so maybe that’s why it had such a large effect on you. You were so susceptible to it that it was dangerous to your escape, constantly tiptoeing the line between enjoying the praise and falling face-first into Stockholm syndrome. It was a dangerous game you were playing, and without even realizing, you were losing. 

“Can… you touch me again?” You asked quietly after letting his praise marinate in your head for a minute, prying your hands out of his to pull your shirt over your breasts again. 

Shocked by your sudden switch-up, his eyes widened for a moment before he awkwardly nodded while placing his hands on your waist, finally letting his eyes trail down to your breasts.

Seeing them so close sent blood rushing not only to his face, but also down under, his already semi-hard on pushing uncomfortably against his pants. He wanted to brand them with his bites and kisses, cover them in his spit, and bruise them with hickeys to claim them as his. He was opposed to rushing you though, so all he could do was drag his hands up your torso until they finally cupped around your soft flesh, squeezing lightly just to confirm that he was really touching you and that it wasn’t just another wet dream.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to repeat his reassurances in your head while he fondled you. His normally cold hands were warm against your skin, squishing and playing with your chest and making your already hot body feel like it was burning. 

He was pushing them together, bouncing them, and holding them in his palms. It was so embarrassing, but you were trying desperately to keep it together. When you finally brewed up enough confidence to pry your eyes open, you saw how happy he looked, as silly as it was, and it took everything inside of you not to let out a giggle that could’ve embarrassed him. You wanted him to keep enjoying himself, even if your face burned from the awkwardness of it.

But just as you were growing used his hands on you, he threw a question at you that hit like a brick to the face, draining every ounce of courage out of you in a split second, “Can I… suck on them?”

He was leaning towards your chest as he spoke, looking up at you with anticipating eyes that made another wave of intense heat flare through your face. You were barely getting used to his fondling, but to suck on them? You might faint. With no experience except your own fingers and numerous toys, you didn’t even know how sensitive your nipples could be. The thought of squirming around in his lap while he lapped so leisurely on your tits made you shiver. But at the same time, it also piqued your curiosity and made the warmth between your thighs grow. You couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like.

“Yeah. Sure. That’s—That’s fine. Just—be gentle, ok? No one’s ever done that to me before…” You replied with a shaking voice, brows pushed together with worry while you avoided eye contact.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” He asked rhetorically, hungry eyes still gazing up at you as he leaned towards your chest. He broke his stare to pull your shirt up and off again, cupping your breasts and latching onto one of your nipples like it was all he was born to do. 

You winced in response, anxious to experience the feeling for the first time. Just having your sensitive bud in his mouth felt so different, so warm and wet—so when he took a long, slow lick, you couldn’t stop the whimper that left your throat. 

He almost lost his composure right then when he heard that noise. It was amazing, like a slice of a heavenly melody he wanted to keep locked in his brain forever. He wanted more of those sounds. He needed more of them.

With your other breast cupped in his palm, he started to pinch and nudge the bud while he sucked softly on the one in his mouth. You were already letting out more quiet whines, holding the back of his head while your fingers tangled in his hair. You couldn’t even begin to explain the burning pleasure that rippled from your chest to your core or the throbbing ache that proliferated between your thighs. It felt so much better than you imagined, and as much as you didn’t want to admit it, Eren being the one to do it made your heart race. 

Desperate to pry more sounds from you, his intensity rose by the minute, lips tugging on your nipple and fingers pinching the other. As more soft whines and moans spilled from your mouth, your spine arching to push your chest further into his face, he could feel the stiffness in his pants painfully begging to be freed. You sounded beautiful, he just wanted to throw you onto the couch and fuck you senseless while you cried out. Holding back from that was so hard, especially with all the cute noises you were making. He wanted to take you right here, but he knew he’d have to be patient if he didn’t want you to feel rushed or forced. He needed to be like a wolf stalking its deer. Slow, calculated, determined.

Pulling away from your mound, he looked at your swollen, spit-covered bud, smiling to himself with newfound confidence while moving to your other one. His possessive feelings were growing with each mark he left on you, every new blemish claiming another piece of your body for himself. Once he had all of you, god knows how he’d act.

He had one arm around you, pushing you closer to him to make it easier for him to swallow your chest while his hands groped your ass and felt up the wet spot between your legs, just barely tugging at the hem of your shorts when the opportunity arose. He was sucking hard, running his tongue diligently over the nipple and flicking it repeatedly to steal more moans from you. Every noise, every whimper, and every whine was just more motivation to him, fueling his excitement to keep touching you and eventually have you touch him. He almost couldn’t take it anymore, the bulge in his pants becoming increasingly painful the longer this went on.

It seemed he finally snapped after a few more minutes of vigorous sucking and quiet whimpers, grabbing your arms and forcing his face away from your chest after he heard you whisper out his name. As much as he wanted to continue the petting, he needed to have you now or he might just burst. 

“Fuck whatever stupid idea I had for a game, I need you to touch me. I need you to touch me now, please.” Eren begged, sounding more desperate than you’d ever heard him before, almost growing teary-eyed at how pent-up he was becoming. His hips were roughly grinding into yours, praying for anything to rub against or release his tension. He was so frantic that you thought he might get on his knees and beg if you said no.

If you were being honest with yourself, you were curious. You wanted to know what he felt like and how he would react. You wanted to revel in the feeling of being desired so badly.

“You want me to touch you… that bad?” You asked, your voice quivering from the intense feeling rumbling through your body that you could only describe as heavy. Without Eren’s support, you would probably collapse into a hot mess on the couch.

Eren’s eyes grew wide as if you were spouting nonsense in a language he didn’t understand, “Of course I do! Why the hell do you think we’re here in the first place? I’ve never wanted anything so badly!”

His hands were shaking out of frustration, his grip strong enough to leave marks. Though, when the fear gleamed in your eyes and your muscles tensed up, he was quick to calm, loosening his hold and sliding his hands down to hold yours instead.

“I’m… I’m sorry, I’m just… so, so desperate. I want you so badly,” He apologized, looking down to avoid shameful eye contact with you, “I need you. Badly.”

You stared at him quietly for a moment, playing around with the ideas in your head before deciding through your lust-clouded judgment that you wanted him too. In the moment, you didn’t care if you would regret it later. You just wanted to touch him. You wanted to have control over him, if only for a little while.

For once, you were the one to make the first move, leaning forward and placing a soft kiss on his forehead while you reached your hand to his groin. His entire body stiffened as you put your hand on the tent in his pants, his cheeks flushing when he peeked up at you with that desperate look in his eyes.

“Please—Please be gentle. Don’t squeeze it too much, I don’t—know how much I can take…” He stuttered out as if the fabric holding his cock back hurt any less than you squeezing him too tightly would.

Nodding, you caressed him again, watching carefully as his eyes squeezed shut and he leaned back, uttering a soft moan from your hand on the underside of his cock. He was still tense, but you could see that he was enjoying your touch, so you carried on. Beginning gently, you cupped him through the thin fabric of his pajama pants and massaged your hand up and down his pulsing shaft, eventually moving to tug at the band around his waist to silently ask permission to free him from his confines. 

Although you wanted to take it slow, you were also desperate to see and touch him without the barrier separating you; and it seemed like he was too. That much was evident when he didn’t bother to let you pull his pants or boxers down, ripping them off himself and leading your hand back to his freed shaft by your wrist.

Catching on quickly, you tightened your hand around him and eyed up his length, examining it while he went back to gasping at every little movement you made. He was a lot bigger than you expected him to be up close, not to mention how heavy he felt in your palm. Seeing all of the little things you hadn’t noticed previously, it looked so different too. 

Veins crawled up from the bottom of his girth, stopping a few inches before reaching his head, and he was swollen and red at the tip, already leaking precum. His bush was well-trimmed, a tiny freckle at the base of it, and it curved upwards while it twitched in your hand. You never thought you’d see a dick that looked so… perfect. Just holding his weight in your hands had you clenching around nothing, the thought of it filling you up passing through your mind more than once.

You slowly moved your hand up, stopping with your thumb on the underside of where his head and shaft met. You’d read online about men being sensitive in that spot, and it appeared to be true by the way his breath hitched when you ghosted your digit over it. Curious, you pressed lightly and caressed the spot up and down, causing his hips to jolt unexpectedly while a louder gasp left his throat. 

“Ohh my god. Oh my god.” He breathed out, pushing his elbows into the cushions behind him to grip the couch beneath his thighs more efficiently. He’d never felt this good, even with his other, more experienced flings in the past. Even with less skill and precision, you were just so much better.

You were you. His dream. Everything he’d ever wanted in life. That’s what you were. His most prized possession, his most important person. That alone made everything feel superior. Because it was you doing it.

Enjoying the erotic look on his face, you kept up your motions and continued to stroke the spot below his head, sending him into a frenzy of squirms and whimpers as he grew overstimulated just by the pad of your thumb. His hips bucked up, desperate to get more friction to tip him over the edge of his already approaching orgasm.

“Fuck—Fuck, you have no idea how good this feels.” He uttered under his breath, voice shaking as you rubbed even faster. His whimpers were high-pitched, turning into something more akin to whines as he neared the end; but just as he was reaching the hilt of his pleasure, you pulled your hand away, leaving him to cry and plead for your touch again. 

Seeing him so desperate for it was such a change from his usual self. It was like the roles swapped, and now you were the one that had him wrapped around your finger. You never wanted it to end. You longed to keep what little control over him you had for as long as you could. Plus, he looked cute when he was the one tomato-faced and begging.

Leaning close, you kissed his jaw while he audibly sniffled, reaching up to put your hand behind his head and push it forward to kiss his forming tears away. He whimpered again, one hand clawing the couch while the other flew to your hip. You pecked his face, slowly trailing to his lips so you could kiss, fully entrapping him in the scheme forming in your head. 

Your fingers wrapped around his shaft for a second time, shocking him into pulling away before you pushed your lips against his again, assertive about keeping his mouth against yours. He was already moaning into you, grip growing tight as you began moving your hand up and down his length.

He was practically melting underneath you, arms trembling as your hand worked his hardness, pumping it rapidly. His cries for you were only growing louder, turning into muffled chants about how close he was to finishing. You loved to hear it, but you knew you didn’t want it to end so soon.

Once again, you let go of him, moving off of his lap and taking a seat next to him on your knees while he whined about your second absence. However, his complaints ceased when he realized what you were doing, your head already moving closer to his length and your hand taking its place at the base of it. 

“Wait, wait,” He panicked, trying to stop you, reaching forward to grab some of your hair and pull your head away, “Are—Are you sure you want to do that? It doesn’t taste as good as you might think.”

Your mouth changed from its open “O” into a pout, a frown taking over your features as he stopped you from finishing him off, “I know what I want, Eren. Please let me.”

With your familiar longing gaze piercing his, he was quick to give in and remove his hand from your head, thanking the lord that he held the motivation to wash himself regularly and make sure he was clean every time he interacted with you. Right now you wanted him almost as much as he wanted you, and if you were so certain about it then he wasn’t about to stop that. He needed to take his chance to savor it because god knows how long he’d wanted this and when he'd get another chance. You finally wanted him too, so it would be foolish to stop now.

“Just… don’t push yourself.” He muttered, running his hand down your back while you resumed what you were doing before.

You nodded with a quiet hum, placing a gentle kiss on the head and taking an experimental lick just below. Tracing the pad of your finger up and down his veins, you took in all of the little shudders you managed to coax out of him and began a trail of kisses down the underside of his length. The way he was almost pouting with embarrassment while his cheeks were such a deep shade of red was adorable, it just made you want more. You wondered if this was how he felt about you most of the time, so enamored that he couldn't think about anything other than your face.

Reaching the base with your pecks, his cock twitching every time you made contact, you stuck out your tongue and pressed it against him. Slowly and tediously, you dragged it back up to the top, leaving a trail of saliva in your wake while Eren bit back a whine. A few more frivolous kisses to the tip and you finally took him into your mouth, pushing your tongue against him while you lowered your head as much as you could without gagging.

Lifting your head, you peered up at him, studying his face while you tried to force more into your mouth, unable to fit more than a few inches before tears emerged in the corners of your eyes. He was so big, you could barely get anything in, but that didn’t seem to affect the amount of pleasure it gave him when you finally began bobbing your head. Eren was already turning into a mess again, but the second you started moving the hand on his shaft in rhythm with your mouth, he nearly broke down crying from the feeling. 

Tracing shaky hearts on your back, he stared down at you, trying to burn the image he saw into his memory and lock it away for safekeeping. It was exhilarating to see you like this, so much so that he had to cover his mouth to prevent the moans that slipped out from growing too loud. He couldn’t handle it, especially after being edged twice, he was going to go crazy if you didn’t let him finish this time. 

Holding himself still was the most difficult thing, especially when all he wanted to do was hammer into your throat like there was no tomorrow—but he didn’t want to make you choke on him. Not yet, at least. It felt too early to be that rough with you. 

Being built up and denied satisfaction the last two times meant it wasn't long before the band was stretched again, dangerously close to breaking. The way your tongue pressed against the sensitive spot below his head, the way your fingers curled around him and stroked everything that didn’t fit in your mouth had him gasping for air. It was driving him up the wall, pushing him so close that he could feel himself at the very edge, nearly tumbling over it even if you weren’t the best at what you were doing. 

When your eyes flicked up to meet his, watching his ruby-red and sweat-slicked face twisted with pleasure, he finally snapped. You watched his eyes squeeze shut as he threw his head back, crying out in whimpers as he lost control of his hips through his orgasm, repeatedly chanting “I love you” between swears.

You couldn’t help but gag as more than you could handle was shoved down your throat, eyes going wide as your mouth was coated with a bitter taste that made you wince. You had to pull away while he was still coming, coughing and gagging more at the feeling of his release in your throat while the rest spilled over your hand.

Eren was apologizing under his breath, still struggling through the pleasure of his climax—but you decided to push him the slightest bit further as revenge for making you choke, massaging your finger over the same spot you had earlier and sending a shock through his entire body again. You continued to touch him as you sat up, leaning into him with your head on his shoulder so you could feel the way he shook from the overstimulation. 

“Please—Please, oh my god I can’t take it.” He cried, tears bordering his eyes as you teased him. Seeing that you didn’t want to go too overboard, you decided to give him mercy and let go, watching him go limp as his body finally relaxed. He was panting, covered in sweat like he’d just finished one of the intense basketball scrimmages you used to watch him do, even though he’d only gotten sucked off and pleasured. It was almost cute to you, mostly because it made it much more obvious how much of a hold you had on him, and you enjoyed it. You enjoyed being desired.

  Following a few minutes of quiet, filled only with sounds of his panting and shuffling of you snuggling against his arm, he spoke up again through pants, slowly coming back into his normal headspace that was dedicated to caring for you, “Was… Was that okay? Are you doing okay?”

Your eyes half-lidded while you stared at him from his shoulder, you nodded with a smile spreading across your lips. The bliss of everything was still holding onto you, the giddy feeling that bubbled in your chest stemming from the moments prior. You just wanted to stay like this, cuddled up against him while you relaxed together in sweet silence, only broken occasionally by your back-and-forth comments about aftercare and gentle kisses to his collarbone.

When Eren finally decided to get up, still so delirious from the pleasure that he hadn’t even thought about how you were out of sight, it was only to grab a rag and some water from the kitchen. Then was back on the couch as quickly as he’d left, tidying you up and pulling you into his lap to cradle you. While you clung to him, burying your face into his neck, he leaned forward to grab your shirt from the floor, quickly pulling it over your head so you could get back to cuddling. 

You were feeling oddly clingy, more so than before. You just wanted to stay in his arms, snuggled up to his warm body. It was the most at peace you’d felt since you’d been taken. It felt nice. 

Suddenly pulling you out from your comfort, Eren pushed your face away from his neck, eliciting a whine from you as he grabbed the glass of ice water and brought it up to your lips, “Come on, you should drink. I know that I probably didn’t taste very good…”

Pouty about being pulled away, you snapped back playfully with a raised brow while pushing the glass away, “How would you know what you taste like?” 

His face twisted in embarrassment, his brows furrowing as he stammered trying to explain himself, “Well, I don’t, but I’ve just—I’ve been told it doesn’t taste very good.”

You giggled at his response, “That doesn’t mean you don’t taste good to me,” even though it was true that he tasted rather foul.

Slightly flustered, Eren quickly tried to regain control of the conversation, feigning confidence while placing his hand on your nape to push your face close to his, “Well why don’t you let me have a taste for myself so I can see?”

“Mm, how am I supposed to do that?” You asked.

“Like this.” He replied, pushing his lips against yours and dipping his tongue into your mouth before pulling away just as quickly, leaving you stunned at his sudden shamelessness.  

While you were still staring at him with your mouth slightly agape, he pushed the glass cup into your hands, forcing you to hold it as he guided it up to your mouth. Finally pulled out of your trance, you let out a small sigh and took a sip, the cool water finally washing away the bitter taste his release had left in your mouth. 

“I guess I don’t taste that bad,” He started, which on its own almost caused you to spit out the water, only to be shocked again when he continued the statement, “Or maybe I was just tasting you.”

You nearly choked while trying to swallow, yelling out afterward and slapping his shoulder, “Eren!”

“Shh, shh, just come here so I can hold you again.” He cooed, taking the glass from you and pulling you against him, “My angel.”

Pressing kisses to your head, he smiled as you snuggled into him, nuzzling your nose into the crook of his neck while he pet your hair. With both of you relaxed, it was quiet once more, the two of you cuddled into each other as the silence surrounded you, leaving you both to your thoughts.

Eren was thinking about what you’d said, about what you wanted if you won his “game.” Even if you didn’t remember it in the moment, he would feel bad if he didn’t give it to you eventually. Not to mention, you were smart. You’d end up asking about it again at some point. He knew you would, and the thought of it made him anxious.

It’s not that he didn’t want you to go into his room, it was just that the things he had out would be deathly embarrassing for you to see. Once he got the chance to clean everything up, it would be fine for you to come in. If anything, he wanted you to stay in his room. He wanted to be able to trust you enough to sleep in his bed with him, to experience that kind of deep intimacy with you; but with everything you’d done recently, he still wasn’t sure about it. However, he did have a somewhat peculiar idea about what you could do to gain his trust—one that would get the authorities off of his back too if he played the cards right. Your reaction to the idea would tell him all he needed to know about how much he could trust you too. It was brilliant—at least to him, it was.

As if your minds were parallel to one another, you decided to speak up and ask about what’d been promised to you, “Hey… am I still gonna get my reward since I technically won that game you mentioned?” 

“Funny you say that actually, I was just thinking about it,” he began his reply, tightening his arms around you so that you would be as flush against him, no space separating you, “And I thought about something else we could do that you might like a little more.”

Jumping to the conclusion that he was trying to back out of his past agreement, a frown formed on your face and you opened your mouth to scold him, only to be stopped with a finger pushed to your lips followed by his loud shushing.

“Shh! Just let me finish before you chew me out!” He hushed you, pressing kisses between your wrinkled brows until they relaxed, then continuing, “My idea wasn’t that different from yours. It’s pretty much the same. I’ll let you come into my room tomorrow, except I’ll also let you stay the night with me there.”

Again not allowing him to finish, you interrupted excitedly with a smile already taking over your face, “Really? In your bed? With you?”

Eren already spent many of his nights downstairs with you, but that wasn’t the same as sleeping with him in his bed. Sleeping in his room not only meant you were free from the unfriendly aura of the basement, but that you would have light when you woke up. You could wake up to the warm morning sun for the first time in a month. You’d missed it so much.

“Yes. With me.” He began again, clearing his throat and frowning at your repetitive habit of interrupting him, “But only under one condition.” 

Taking note of his annoyance, you stayed quiet this time, eyeing him as a way of silently asking him to continue.

“You need to call the police department tomorrow morning and tell them you don't want to go home.”

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