#temptation is certainly- winning with this one...

[scuddle-bubble101]

Scattered doodles with some practice. (We are slowly being sucked into an old interest again and its been fun to lightly colour with it here and there.)

[madamechrissy]

Baby You're a Star

Art in the banner by Kerravi on x!

Pairings- Pornstar Satoru x shy f!reader

Summary- You meet Satoru Gojo at a wild Hollywood party, insanely out of place, waiting for your friend to show up. The two of you hit it off, spending time together, and share a kiss, but you're a good girl, and you just don't do this, but he is the top pornstar there is, and the top .01 % on OnlyFans. Once you find out, you know there's probably no match, as Satoru doesn't date, and you don't sleep around, but after meeting, you keep in touch- and soon Satoru can't get hard without thinking of you, and you get over curious, and join a livestream of the boy you like. Just how will that go for you both!? WC this chap- 11.5k (longestt)

Warnings- WOW this chap has it all, heed the warnings - filming porn masturbation ( m) oral (m and f receiving) spit kink HIGH KEY, mentions of cum, multiple rounds, switching positions, size kink, swallowing (M and F) explicit sex, feral Gojo, squirting, mating press, tummy bulges, lots of fucking goddamn- Gojo is whipped mutual pining, obsessive Gojo. Angsty asf in places, lots of jealousy

A/N- Taglist closed- This was so smut filled I took MULTIPLE breaks aha, maybe my most smut filled one ever? don't read in public actually - please comment/rb if you enjoy <3

<<<Chapter Two - Masterlist- Playlist- Chapter Four>>>

Chapter Three

You can’t escape the desire you have, even in your dreams.

Waking up cumming was not just new, it was ridiculous, and you didn’t even know that happened until this morning. Waking up with your cunt throbbing around nothing, and gushing arousal, as your dream was filled with Satoru kissing you, fucking into you with that thick, huge cock, hitting spots deep inside that felt real even in your dreams.

That’s it, sweetheart, cum all around my cock, hmm? Lemme feel her- there you go, baby.

That had done too much to your sleeping brain apparently, because you couldn’t stop cumming either, crying out and whining when you’d touched your cunt and felt the slick coating everything. After shaking violently from it, you’d peeked and seen a good morning text from him, all while you had to go get cleaned up, trying to compose yourself before you texted back.

Jenna calls now, shaking you out of your reverie, and the two of you plan lunch the next day. “You’re having dinner with him?”

“Yeah, but as a… friend?”

“Oh baby, you’re too cute.” You sigh, leaning back as you stir up some dough for cookies you were baking later, the sunlight filtering in through the little kitchen window you have open wide. You peer out into the sky, thinking it’s not as pretty as Satoru’s eyes.

“I do really feel things, but Jenna I can’t not be near him, if it’s as a friend, then it’s as a friend.” Jenna sighs louder than you did. “Are we having a sighing contest?”

“I’ll win any loud moan contest, but your sighs are cuter.”

“Jenna!”

You both laugh then, and a beep sounds on your phones. “Ah, looks like he’s going to stream. Gonna go watch your friend?”

“You’re an instigator. Maybe.” She giggles again, as you finish preheating the oven, scooping the dough onto the parchment paper.

“Be careful, you’re a grown woman, and things change, but don’t forget yourself, okay?” You pause then, emotions catching in your throat at her words. “I’m not trying to be the ‘mom’ I swear.”

“I know, Jenna. I love you, see you soon?” You end the call after she says goodbye, popping the cookies in the oven and turning them on. You set up your laptop, deciding to do some work for the weekend on a project your friend hired you for, but the temptation of seeing Satoru keeps nagging at your mind.

The man certainly has a pretty cock, but you think it’s the way he looks at the camera that fucks you up, it’s probably why he’s so good at it, his job. And he clearly enjoyed it, even though you know he was having a little difficulty with the last shoot, perhaps he prefers solo lately? To think you had anything to do with that was foolish, so you wouldn’t allow the thought.

The timer beeps, you stand up and stretch, turning off the timer and oven then, grabbing a bright red oven mitt and pulling out the sheet pan, smelling delectable, the steam hot and rising, scent filling your nostrils. You loved to bake, especially when you were stressed, and you suppose you were, having feelings for a man currently stroking his cock for the camera was conflicting at best.

You keep trying to tell yourself that it’s not feelings, that you’re inexperienced and confused, but you know you’re lying to yourself. You eye that silver laptop again, remembering the last time, the image of him sucking his own cum off his fingers is burned deep, a core memory at this fucking point. You shake it off, then sigh, giving into temptation.

You’d just tip him a hundred again to be supportive, you tip Jenna all the time, it’s fine, it’s something a friend can do.

Right?

You log in to the onlyfans platform, the black and blue OF making you just a bit nervous, clicking on the stream then, taking several breaths as you click on it. Fully prepared to be soaking wet, the sight that greets you is not Satoru stroking his cock, it’s another woman, her thighs spread, while Satoru runs circles on her clit. She’s propped on his lap, her head against his bare collarbones, moaning.

Your heart shatters then, and it shouldn’t, no you’re so stupid!

You are Satoru’s friend, and it was your choice to check his stream, to tip and be supportive but ultimately you know what you potentially signed up for. You saw him with Jenna, and for whatever reason that had not bothered you- maybe because it was before he touched you, looked at you like that.

The girl in front of him has two of his fingers shoved deep as he has her feet propped up on his thighs while you blink away stupid tears that shouldn’t exist, there’s no anger but there’s so much jealousy you shock yourself. You’re a girl’s girl, you’re supportive, what is this!? You’d like to rip her right off his lap, and you hate yourself for it right now.

You shake it off, looking away as the cookies fill your home with the sweet scent of sugar and chocolate. It should be a cheery morning, but you can’t even focus on anything but the conflict in your heart. You stare back again, hearing Satoru’s soft, husky voice, watching all the comments in the chat while he grips one of her breasts in his big hand.

Her head falls forward, and the way you vividly imagine it being you instead has you heating up, in more ways than excitement, embarrassment - you’d never be that girl for him, you wish you could be that way. But Satoru and you together felt too special, especially to share, how could you fall when this was your idea!?

You can’t be upset.

You take a breath, shutting your eyes and looking away as his voice resonates through the laptop’s speakers, echoicing in the quiet. If you were crazy enough you’d say it sounded different than with you, that he let go more, that you were even wetter when he touched you, but you’re starting to think you’re delusional.

“So, we wanna hit this spot right here, for any men watching, you’re gonna curl up here, that spot feels good, doesn’t it honey?” Your jaw sets, swiping tears from under your glasses now.

“Ah, y-yes Gojo!” Her moan echoes too much, he pauses then, the squelching of her cunt stops, it’s all quiet as he just stares at the camera like he’s staring at you, his lips parted, eyes widening just a bit, but there’s no way.

You’ve lost it.

You tip him the hundred as you’d intended to, quickly shutting your laptop and damn near hyperventilating. What’s wrong with you!? His job is to fuck women, so you saw him touching one, what do you expect? The man had a gang bang scene just yesterday, and dinner with you tonight. You have to shove it all down then, you have to remember what he does.

It didn’t mean it wasn’t special though, for you.

Did he do things off camera with-

Stop it!

The phone rings a few minutes later and you just stare at it, lost in your own head, wishing you could compartmentalize it so much better, that you could separate the two. You were so stupid for engaging and knowing, but at the same time, to not have Satoru seems like something you can’t compute, even if it is just as a friend, even if you can’t be sexual.

Maybe you read it all wrong, that night.

Satoru calls again, shaking out his hand as his co star is now fucking herself quite expertly on a dildo, since Satoru can’t get hard for anything - it’s worse today than yesterday - he decided to turn it into a guided masturbation video. At least his fucking fingers still work, despite jerking off to you so much his cock is raw, remembering your lips surrounding it.

Even fingering her he’s picturing your pussy, fuck he wants to just bury his face in it again, he knows the two of you are ‘friends’ or whatever the fuck this was, but it’s exceedingly difficult when it’s affecting him like this. He keeps wondering if you all sleep together, will it make it worse or better? Was he all in his head, as if you would go for someone like him if he did date.

What was he thinking lately?

He saw your name in the stream and his stomach had dropped - and why, you’re just a friend, it was fine if you wanted to see a bit of a stream and tip, he knows it is to be supportive. You’re supportive and sweet, so sweet, god your taste and scent still haunt him, he’s been dying to see you tonight, in any capacity, but when he saw the name he felt awful.

He only wants to fuck you, touch you, but he has a career and commitments, to get her to agree to this instead of fucking was already difficult and he was slowly losing it as his cock kept refusing to work. Even if he could get it up, he didn’t like the idea of fucking someone else at all, after the debacle of a gang bang yesterday. But even touching someone was doing nothing for him.

Now he saw you leave so quickly, and decided to gently smack his co star’s ass, smiling as he bent her over, murmuring he needs a break. She eagerly took over the spotlight, the opportunity was a huge one for her anyway as a smaller star. Satoru keeps staring at your picture, sighing as he notices the little reflections in your glasses, touching the screen softly.

You saw him touching someone, did you care, did it bother you-

Why is he thinking like this!?

He calls again, and you answer, much to his relief, as his hands let go of the bathroom counter he’d gripped too tightly. “Hey Satoru, sorry I popped in, I thought it was um… you…”

“Jerking off?” He finishes the sentence, leaning back against his wall and shutting his eyes.

“Yeah, I didn’t know you did um… shoots at home. You should get back to it, why are you calling me, silly? Looks like um… you were, ah… doing… good.” You’re breaking out every voice, cursing yourself quietly, why can’t you just speak? You’re shoving it all down, trying not to cry - there’s no reason to!

“Ah, yeah I thought I’d try to teach people how to make women cum, they fail often you know.” He tries to make it light, as his stomach clenches, a sick feeling when he hears your forced laugh.

“That’s very true. Someone should give you a Nobel prize for this work.” He snorts then, as the laughter becomes a little more genuine. “No you’re amazing at that. Why not show them how?”

“You thought I was amazing, hmm?” His tone changes, cock throbbing when he just hears your sigh, picturing you vividly in his mind, while the sounds of his co-star echo, moans and squelching wetness that does nothing for him.

Didn’t he used to enjoy all of this?

“You know I thought that.” Your heart pounds, you have to remember, Satoru is amazing and just because you’re hurt, you can’t be mad or upset at him. He’s not yours in any way, even if you’re starting to wish he was. “Isn’t your co-star waiting?”

“She’s occupying herself fine. It’s not… sex…” Because I can’t get hard unless it’s you. “It’s just a tutorial.”

“Oh,” your relief shouldn’t exist, you shouldn’t care, but to hear that does make you slump over just a bit, before taking a breath. “Do you want to do dinner another day, it’s already four-”

“No, no!” Satoru panics then, since when does smooth pornstar Satoru freak the fuck out and act desperate? “I mean, no. I want to see you tonight. I have time to shower and get there.”

He wants to wash any of this girl off, frantically actually, he wants you all over him, even if it’s just him pleasing you more. But moreso, even if you just wanted to have dinner and that was it, he’d be happy, though the thought of fucking you with his fingers while you eat dessert is insanely tempting, making his tip drool precum quite annoyingly as he glares in the mirror.

“Okay good, I was looking forward to it.” Your whisper is soft and genuine, as he sees the red on his cheeks, the black pupils, just thinking of you shifts his entire face.

Fuck.

“I’ll start getting ready, I think it’s time you see I can get dressed up.” You tease softly, swiping stupid tears and trying to plaster a bright smile on your face as you stare in your mirror. Your eyes are puffy, the color drained from your face, lips trembling - just seeing that has affected your entire face, taking off your glasses so you don’t even have to look at yourself for a moment.

“I bet you’re gonna kill me, you look so pretty any time I see you,” his voice is hoarse, as he spills the vulnerable truth, and the two of you shut your eyes, leaning against your bathroom counters. “But I’m excited to see you dolled up.”

“Are you, Satoru?” You try to hide the insecurities haunting you, hearing his sexy, heavy sigh on the other line.

“Very excited. I’ll see you soon, sweets.”

The two of you hang up and you sigh, eyeing the clock now - you have about two hours to get ready, and you’re so nervous your palms are sweaty and numb. It may just be two ‘friends’ having dinner, but you want to shove that image back you just saw, and focus, and try to look beautiful tonight.

Satoru’s own hands are numb, as he curses, slamming a hand on his forehead, unable to think of anything but you, barely able to pull himself together. When he walks out, Suguru is there, nibbling in the kitchen, raising a brow at him. “You good, Satoru?”

“Fine, I… you wanna finish that for me?” He gestures to the room, while Suguru sips down water. “I think I have a kind of date or something.”

“A date!? Huh?” Satoru just looks away, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I don’t think it’s a date, it’s friends or something? Maybe... I don’t know. Is dinner a date if it's not with a costar?” Suguru rolls his violet eyes, sighing as he washes his hands now, patting them dry with a paper towel.

“You’re acting weird as fuck lately, that cute little good girl got you simping?” Satoru scoffs, rolling his blue eyes now.

“Suguru, just do me a solid.” Satoru pouts, earning Suguru’s scoff.

“Fine, fine, but you owe me one.” Suguru and Satoru enter the room, as Satoru eases the transition, the notes in the chat are going insane, he can’t help but exhale in relief, before pausing at the thought.

Was there some way to save his malfunctioning dick?

*****

Satoru whistles when he meets you at the restaurant that evening, running just a little late, you're sitting there nibbling on your thumb, peering at the menu when he arrives. Your eyes light up behind a different pair of glasses, these have cute red rims, matching the red dress you're wearing that's making him ache.

He hasn't seen you in something like this, not that you weren't always pretty, but when you stand up and he sees how it fits your body it almost takes him everything to hold back. Vividly picturing bending you right over that table and fucking you in front of the entire restaurant, gripping the red shimmery fabric that drapes across every line and curve of that body.

He can't form a word, notoriously known for never shutting up, but he can't think of anything to say, when you shyly look down, hands fidgeting in front of your lap, and he’s standing there sputtering. It’s awkward even, until the waitress comes up and smiles over at Satoru, gesturing to a seat, saying - ‘This must be the friend you were waiting for!’

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting, you look beautiful.” He says finally, pressing a kiss to your cheek, feeling it heat up against his lips. You shake your head with a sweet turn of your lips, kissing his cheek in turn.

“You’re fine, Satoru, I still haven’t learned LA time.” He chuckles at that just a bit, sitting across from you now, before deciding to sit next to you instead, shoulders brushing together.

“This feels more comfy? It feels all formal the other way.”

“Does it feel too… date like?” He falters then, because that was not it, but the doubt has crept in on your face, when the waitress asks you all for your order, and he has to blink back the confusion. “What do you suggest?”

“Want me to order for you?” You nod shyly, god the submissive nature of you makes him ache in way too many ways, knowing how perfect of a girl you’d be for him in every aspect. “We’ll have this,” he says, pointing to the menu now. “And bring two glasses of champagne please.”

“Are we celebrating?” You tease, handing the waitress the menu, Satoru chuckles a bit, shaking his head while you take in how handsome he looks, brushing your fingers against his suit jacket. “You look so good, Satoru.”

“Thank you, sweets.” He holds your hand then, fuck it feels too good, pressing it against the dark red suit jacket that truly only he could pull off, black button down shirt left open, showing enough of his chest to make anyone die over. Your eyes look at it now, a few of the chains he wears resting along the strong muscles, settling between his collarbones. “You’re making me look bad, wearing in that dress.”’

“No way!”

“Absolutely, you are. You’re so pretty, fuck…” He’s brushing back a tendril, as you eye him, that look that drives him insane, the look that’s ruined him since he met you. He tries to smirk, to act calm, teasing, “I look that good?”

“Yes, shit. Sorry.” He laughs softly, shaking his head when you pull your hand back gently.

“We match, great minds you know.”

“Indeed, we clearly coordinated telepathically!” He laughs then, and it's just like that first night, when you and him just hit it the fuck off. It’s comfortable, it’s fun - so fun - that people smile at the two of you, as you laugh like friends for years. It’s how it feels, like you’ve known him, a way you can’t explain.

But you wished it was just the friendliness, not the heat in your tummy when he wipes a droplet of clear, bubbly champagne from his plump lips, if every time his thigh brushed yours you didn’t melt. Someone comes up then, a really pretty girl, and you feel Satoru stiffen a bit, making you tense, sipping on the tart champagne and averting your eyes a bit.

“Gojo, it's been what, a year?!” He smiles with ease, standing and kissing her cheek, hugging her tightly.

“It has been, shit, how you been?” It’s all very Hollywood, their exchange, you feel you’ll never figure it out, the two years you’ve been here after relocating and you still couldn’t get being kissy on everyone.

It makes you think of him earlier, his fingers in that-

Stop that!

He’s saying your name you errantly realize, you plaster on a smile as she looks at you curiously, eyeing you up and down. “Co-star?”

“No, no, she’s my friend. She’s a good girl.” He winks down at you, and she giggles then, holding her hand out.

“It’s awesome to meet you!”

“You too. Are you um…”

“A former co-star, yeah. Satoru is the best in the industry.” Ah, so she fucked him, too. You want to be petty and scowl and you hate yourself for it more.

You never, ever are like this.

You never have been.

She’s touching his shoulder and making you sick, when your eyes catch a familiar face, a man standing with a group of other men, smiling over at you, he’s one of your co-workers that is always working. You wave at him while Satoru finishes his conversation, and he adjusts his tan jacket, touching the arm of one of the men, letting them go as he walks to you.

You tense just a bit, while the girl finally leaves, and Satoru’s sitting next to you once more, as his phone rings. He turns it off, jaw tensing when a blond man takes your hand and bends down at the waist, like some old school gentleman, pressing a kiss to the back of your delicate wrist, the pretty bracelet slides down your arm as he does it, and he watches your blush.

The fuck.

He was trying his best to get that girl to go on, so he could get back to talking to you, but now some random guy has your attention, and Satoru doesn’t like it, not one fucking bit. “Nanami, this is Satoru.”

“Nanami, huh?” He leans back, flipping off his phone again, you look at him curiously.

“Need to grab that?” You ask, and he shakes his head, swiping it off once more, ignoring his manager while this Nanami guy eyes you behind green glasses.

“You look stunning, is that alright to say?” You giggle again, Satoru glares at you, how dare you giggle at him!?

He told you that you looked beautiful. Did you giggle?

He wants to punch this smirking man in the face.

What’s wrong with him!?

“Thank you, Nanami, I guess you don’t see me too dressed up at work, huh? You always dress so well.”

“Oh stop, you’re flattering me. And this is your…” He trails off, looking at Gojo, who has to wipe the glare off his face for a moment.

Say it, Satoru.

More than a friend.

You look at him then, as if you’re waiting for him to say that, to say something, while Nanami’s lips quirk up just a bit, making Satoru want to smack him again. He takes a breath, smiling then instead of glaring, but his hand is on the small of your back. “We’ve become close friends, very quickly.”

“Oh? I’ve known her for a long time,” Nanami says, rubbing the back of his neck and looking away. You look at Satoru, whose phone starts ringing again, and he curses, rolling his blue eyes. “Need to take that?”

“It’s my manager, they have horrible timing. I’ll be right back.” He murmurs, you smile understandingly, while his manager trips on him about earlier.

He knows his dick doesn’t work, and now he knows he hates touching anyone, but he doesn’t know how to explain it to anyone when he has no fucking clue why this is happening. He’s obsessed with a sweet, shy little thing that is currently getting hit on by a dude buffer than him.

Maybe he’d be good for you.

Satoru is too petty to admit it though, glaring instead while his manager goes on and on. “Listen, I get it, you need content.”

“We need you with women, a lot of your viewers are men, they’re not gonna tune in to watch you solo. Find someone that works for you, I don’t care who at this point, but we’re just not gonna make profit if you keep turning down roles. Or, I heard, you shoved a girl off on Geto.”

“I didn’t… shove her off, I just…” Satoru frowns again, the blond man is sitting next to you in the other seat, your eyes are on Satoru however they turn away when he catches your gaze.

He just wants to fuck you right in front of that fucking man now. God, if you would be interested in starring in something, you’d make bank, it’s not just his obsession, your pussy is the prettiest one he’s seen. Your tits, your body, they’re all so sexy, and your pretty face with those glasses? You’d kill any sexy nerd shoot there was.

“Satoru!”

Shit.

He can’t get the vision of you in some slutty ass librarian outfit from running through his head.

“Yeah, I got it. I’ll try to get something going, I mean I was gonna do a solo tonight anyway.”

“That’s fine, but remember you’re a lot more than just Onlyfans. You’re a star, Satoru, that comes with a certain level of appearances. So whatever is going on, you gotta get it together, or we’re both not making shit.” He sighs, leaning back against the wall now, eyes going back to you, giggling at something he’s said.

He’s too close to you.

Why does he mind so much?

“I’ll get a shoot done.” The words feel horrible, the thought of fucking anyone else just seems like an impossibility, and he doesn’t know how to compute it in his mind.

What did you do?

“Alright, I expect some video with a woman - not with Suguru. Though…”

“I’m not fucking Suguru.” He chuckles as people look at him a bit, running a hand through his white locks. “He is pretty but not my type.”

“He’s gonna be your type if you turn down every other actress.”

“Ugh.”

“Mmhmm, talk to you later.” He hangs up, frowning at his phone, trying to gather himself before he does something so stupid, jealousy filling him and for what?

You’re talking. You’re not his. He had his fingers buried in a girl this morning, why does he care if you did anything? He knows you’re not that girl, though, but you choose to be with him. It makes him feel far, far more special than he’d admit, the fact that you want him, that you trust him. Was he mistaking the look in your eyes, was it just desire there?

“If you are single, would you mind a date sometime? I haven’t had so much fun talking in a long time.” Nanami says softly, making you look down shyly, lashes casting shadows on your cheeks from the soft lights hanging above you in the dimly lit, pretty restaurant. “Am I too bold?”

“No, no. I just haven’t been on a date in forever.” Satoru feels like he’s been punched in the chest as he hears, nearing the table and acting like he didn’t wanna yank you to him and kiss you then and there.

But he chose to tell him you’re friends, that’s what you were, a friend he wants to fuck all night in every position imaginable. Then lick his own cum out of your cunt, abused from his cock, and fuck you all morning. God he can’t stop thinking about them all, have you dragged on his face, his hands on your waist, let you ride his mouth till he couldn’t breathe.

Real fucking friendly.

Satoru’s hands grip and release while he hears your answer, “I will think about it, Mr. Nanami, it may be fun.”

That’s almost a yes.

Fuck.

“Think about what?” He asks with a smile, leaned back in the booth, a hand brushing your bare thigh under the table, where your dress had slid up from you sitting, he feels it tense while he drags his fingertips across it, eyeing you then.

Was Satoru trying to confuse you more? You look at him again, some toxic part of you that you don’t recognize wants him to claim you, what the fuck was that!? You have never been that way, you’ve never been a lot of things until you met this blue-eyed man, however, and even with a handsome Nanami flirting, you can’t get Satoru’s moans out of your mind.

Snap out of it!

“A date with your lovely friend. You two are just friends?” He looks between the two of you now, and Satoru opens his mouth, but what can he say?

It’s what you ‘are’.

Would he be worthy of dating you if he wanted to, when his job was fucking other women? You didn’t deserve that, you deserved to be the only one, fuck you literally had become his one singular, consuming thought. He smiles good naturedly, eyeing you now, watching you bite your lower lip, teeth digging into the plush of it, while your thighs tremble just a bit.

“We just met at a party a few weeks ago, but we are really close. Quickly.” He murmurs.

“Can’t see you partying.” Nanami’s hand comes to touch your other thigh, and for a girl who hasn’t had any in forever, the sensation of two big hands on your thighs is addling your mind. “No offense, darling you seem a little straight laced…” his words are trailed off with his hand squeezing gently.

Satoru scowls at him.

Is he touching you!?

Do you like it?

“I don’t party, it’s true.” You smile now, a hand over his, thumbs brushing his knuckles, while Satoru’s squeezing so hard you wince before he realizes it, letting go of his grip, but the hand staying on your knee. “I think we could go on a date sometime, as long as it doesn’t make work weird.”

“Not at all, all right I’ll leave you two to hang out then,” he stands, holding out a hand for Satoru, he squeezes the shit out of Nanami’s hand with a forced smile, only for Nanami to squeeze tighter. And fuck he’s strong. Then, he takes your hand, murmuring a - “I’ll see you at work, then,” and kissing the back of your hand. “Darling.”

Darling.

Satoru will show him darling.

You giggle, only pissing him off more, nodding shyly, fuck you’re cute even when you’ve made him furious. He’s shared women so many times he can’t count, even girls he got closer to, regular girls that you could almost say he ‘dated’ he’d still regularly bang out with his friends. He’s not possessive in general, he’s open minded and a free spirit.

Or he was!?

“Sounds good, Mr. Nanami.” He hates how you say his name, when the man in the khaki suit and dumbass cheetah tie leaves, finally. “He’s so sweet.”

“Yeah, so sweet.” You look at him then, narrowing your eyes curiously.

“You don’t like him?”

“I don’t know him. Seems boring, pretentious.” You blink in confusion, eyeing the retreating figure walking out, he even waves at you, which you return.

“He doesn’t seem like either to me. Satoru, you said we are just friends, are you worried that we won’t… do all that we do if I date someone?” Your words drop to a quiet murmur, and he sighs.

“Yes I would be very upset if I didn’t get to taste you again, why wouldn’t I be? It’d be a fuckin’ tragedy, sweetheart.” His words are too husky, when he leans against you, turning just so, his fingers slipping up your inner thigh, a side of sweet, nice Satoru you hadn’t seen yet, you almost think he looks…

He can’t be jealous.

Right?

You're delusional.

“I don’t just sleep around, so if we went on a date I wouldn’t do that. But, if I hit it off, and got serious, I wouldn’t continue our… lessons. I can only be with one person at one time.” He tenses then, is he going to lose you before he even gets you? “I don’t care if you do the same, I know it’s your job, but I couldn’t.”

“I’m not fucking anyone right now. My manager is bitching at me about it.” You tilt your head curiously, the chandelier earrings dancing in glittering prisms along your neck as you study him. “I’m having issues on set.”

“Is everything okay?” You ask, concern in your voice now, as he shakes his head. “Satoru, what's wrong?”

“I’m not in a good headspace it seems, the gang bang I failed, and I pushed the girl this morning on Suguru. So if I don’t give my manager something, they’re gonna be pissed. And no money for us if I can’t show up.”

“What’s wrong though, you seemed fine with Jenna in what I watched? Is this a new problem?” God you’re clueless to your effects, aren’t you? You touch his thigh too, instantly making his cock hard, looking down and getting flustered, he feels your heat, just making him harder. “You seem to work fine to me. Are the cameras getting too stressful?”

“I don’t know, but it really is a problem. Do you think… you could help your very handsome, amazing friend out?” You look up at him, curious.

“Help how?”

“Your good video skills, film a hot jerk off stream, good angles? Maybe that will get enough money he’ll chill some until I get over this.” You look away, the images of Satoru stroking his cock are burned in your brain. “Too much?”

“No, no. I can help, I feel I am taking up your time-”

“You’re not.” He cups your face then, turning it to him. “You’re never taking up my time, I enjoy being here. Okay?” You exhale, fuck had you been worried about that!?

How could you not know how badly he craves your presence?

“I feel bad that you’re going through this, is it the lesson?”

“The lesson did bring your taste into my mouth, and maybe no one tastes as sweet, it’s true,” his thumb brushes across your jaw line, smiling at how embarrassed you get then. “I think your taste would help me out.”

“Then, I’ll film you, but I can’t guarantee the quality.”

“It’ll be impeccable.” He raises two fingers, making your mind go to places it shouldn’t, you know another ‘lesson’ or session, or any time at all with Satoru was dangerous.

You’re teetering on the edge of feelings constantly, but you can do this, right, separate the two? He seems so good at it, at being your friend and then doing more, and you almost failed completely. You almost couldn’t say yes to Nanami because you are currently so delusional you think this star is so interested in you for more.

You have to accept him for who he is, no matter what, this was your choice to join his life at all. You take a breath now, trying to flip that switch off, the one that can’t stop thinking how much you’d love to kiss him, every minute of every day. The side that’s upset his fingers were inside someone, you have to throw her aside, and enjoy what’s here while it’s here.

He makes you question so much constantly, like every minute spent under that cerulean gaze brings out a side of you that you never knew of, some inner sexual side that only he can ignite. It’s so beautiful and special, his breath against your lips, you want to press them to yours, but so unsure, was he not about to be affectionate in public with you?

Was this just left for home?

He changes your thoughts when he kisses your forehead, far too sweet, then your cheeks, hot to the touch, down to your nose, making you giggle, relax. “You never ever waste any time.”

“I needed that.” You exhale, kissing his lips quickly as he smiles against your lips, and you pull back quickly. “I’d love to help you out.”

“I’ll make it worth your while, pretty.” His thumb brushes the slick on your upper thigh, right by your panties, watching your lashes flutter shut, as you take a shaky breath. “Come back to my place?”

“For the night or…”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure-”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” Satoru’s paying the bill, signing a signature and leaving a hefty tip, then, holding out a hand for you.

“Did you drive here?” You shake your head, and he smiles, snatching up his phone now. “Perfect, I’ll have my driver take us over.”

*****

The second time coming to Satoru’s home was a little different, you were more comfortable, slipping off your heels now, he bends down to help you again, kissing your knees as he does, hands slipping up your thighs. Your hand brushes a lock of his white hair back, the unreal way you feel this comfortable, this drawn to him, makes your heart ache.

You’re so scared you’ll get hurt more, but you can’t stop yourself from being near him, from him looking at you like you’re the only fucking girl there is, are you so delusional?

Just enjoy it.

You close your eyes, sighing as he stands, kissing your lips again, easing your hand bag off your shoulder, brushing his thumbs across the mark it’s left on your shoulder. “Want another drink?”

“Yes please, if I’m going to be a porn director.” He laughs softly, shaking his head and taking off his suit jacket, laying it across the back of a chair when he pulls out the same bottle you’d sipped last time.

“You liked this one, hmm?” You nod, surprised he’d remember, taking the sweet liquid in the crystal glass, fingers brushing now. “Don’t get drunk though, I can’t have a shaky ass camera.”

“So demanding already, you really gonna make it worth my while you say?” You’re trying to tease back, like you can breathe or function in his presence, he just sighs, brushing back your hair behind your ear.

“That and more, sweetheart. We have hardly started doing things together, there is so much I can think of,” his hands slip lower, down the side of your neck, watching the goosebumps raise as he does, sighing at how perfect you look in his kitchen. “So many positions.”

“How many are there!?” He laughs now, at your embarrassed little look, pressing a boop to your nose.

“You’re endlessly adorable. Corruptible.”

“Oh!” He’s taking his own glass now, guiding you by your hand.

“Suguru’s out for the night, so we won’t get interrupted.” He’s leading you to his room, yanking off that black top, pausing as he sets up the ring light and grabs the camera, handing it to you, fingers brushing against each other. “You ready?”

“Ready,” your squeak of an answer makes him pause, taking your free hand, putting it on his bare chest as your heart hammers, trailing the hand lower to his belt and swallowing. “Need help?”

“Yes, I do.”

He needs you.

He’s desperate for you, fuck.

You’ve helped him undress, on your knees on the soft, plush carpet, when you start the stream, and he starts stroking that long, thick length right in front of you, he keeps looking at you, even when you gesture to the camera. He’s moaning, spitting on his tip, making it slicker for his big hand which still can’t come close to covering it, twisting and moving it all for you.

For his fans.

It’s hard to remember them when your cunt throbs, when you’re so overheated you can hardly stand it, and Satoru’s talking, low and hoarse. “Gonna cum so much, fuck…”

When he’s cumming you damn near do just looking, thighs pressing together for that friction, mouth fucking dry when your shaky legs nearly give out, while you come from a lower angle, reading the comments of his spurting cum, shooting up against his silvery happy trail, sticking all over, making you ache to drink it up.

“Fuck, I’ve made a mess, need someone to clean me all up.” Satoru whispers, while you barely are able to hold up the camera any longer, the livestream is avid with questions, namely - who is filming Satoru Gojo? And offers from many viewers to lick every bit of him up.

Satoru should stare at the camera, but he’s looking up into your eyes instead, stroking his cum soaked length slowly, just pumping more cum out of his tip, so much it’s ridiculous, dripped down to his balls and inner thighs. You swallow nervously, tummy clenched with desire, knowing you needed to stay quiet for the stream of curious viewers.

Satoru murmurs cut then, and  you do just that, shutting off the feed, and setting down the phone with a shaky hand, clearing your throat. “They loved it I think.”

“C’mere.” He crooks two fingers, and you eagerly obey, walking up to him now, tempting him to no end with the way your eyes drink him in. “On your knees, sweetheart.”

You obey again, eagerly in fact, looking up at him under lowered lashes as his clean hand slips up the side of your pretty neck, then around to the nape of it, entangling in your locks. Your soft whine and shift of your hips are all he needs to know you’re enjoying it, your hands obediently on your thighs, as if waiting for his every order, so sexy he feels his cock twitch back to life.

“Do you want to clean me up?” He asks softly, but the command in his tone is there, you nod and he exhales, tugging you towards him then. “Then do a really good job, sweets. Lick every bit clean like a good girl, and I’ll reward you.”

“I’ll do a good job.” Your whisper wrecks him, as he guides your head down, and you suck him, still hard, into your hot, eager mouth. Your soft whine vibrates around him, his head falling back as your mouth moves.

He can’t help but think of earlier.

A date, you were gonna go on a date, and he hates the idea, no, he fucking detests the idea in fact, the rage alone making him fuck your throat deeper, harder, feeling you gag and choke on him instead of anyone else. He shouldn’t feel possessive over his friend, a friend who’s sucking his cum, who’s swallowing him up, all he can think is his, his, his.

But you weren’t his.

How could you ever be?

Satoru’s never felt anything better than your throat, except he’s a million percent sure your cunt is better, he knows it would suck him up so greedy. When tears fall from your pretty eyes, it’s hotter than any blow job he’s had on set, the eagerness and desperate need to please far surpasses experience, your glasses fogging up when you pull back to take a breath then.

Satoru looks at his slick, spit covered cock, to thin trails of saliva disintegrating between your lips as you pull back, swiping at your lower lip. “How did I do?”

“Perfect.” His whisper is genuine, the words feel too good, you know you should stop, that you already wish he was yours, but you’re too addicted to how those blue eyes make you feel like you’re the only girl there is.

Even if it’s an illusion, a trick of your brain, or a practiced look.

The feeling is too euphoric not to be corrupted by it.

“You did such a good job, look at it, not any cum left. You sucked it all down, so greedy huh?” His hand comes under your chin, squeezing your neck gently yet so possessive, he wants to say it - his - but he knows he can’t. But it’s too easy to teeter off the edge, when your breaths come faster, breasts pressed up in that dress, rising and falling with each one.

“Satoru… I can keep going.” Your soft voice nearly ends him, little hand stroking his cock again.

“I was thinking of something, but if you don’t want to, it's okay.” You blink a bit then, tilting your head, tendrils falling against your bare shoulders.

“What is it?”

“A scene with me, but not showing your face at all,” your gasp and pull back makes him sigh. “It’d be like me eating your pussy, we could have it zoomed so no one sees your face.”

The thought, along with Satoru's sweet cum down your throat makes your tummy clench, while he brings out more and more of you that you didn't know existed. Your hands tense on his thighs now, taking a shaky breath, fingers along the downy hair on his thighs. “I don’t… Satoru you have a million options for costars-”

“I want yours. It’s the prettiest I’ve ever fucking seen.”

“Satoru…”

“It is. Wanna argue about my expertise here?” You just get more flustered and flushed, looking down nervously, but he tilts your chin with his big hand, angling your gaze upward. “I’ll split all the pay, you get eaten out, and anonymously. I’d never tell anyone, I’d never risk your career or anything. But I do need to do one, and I hate the thought of it not…” Satoru trails off now, the words sinking in.

“You like eating me out that much?” Your whisper makes him chuckle then, nodding and swallowing nervously.

“That pussy is perfect. How about we film it, and you watch it, and if you don’t want to, I just keep it to jerk off to…” Shit, he said that.

He’s so desperate and pathetic.

But you flush again, surprising him with your nod.

“Shit really!?”

“We can film it for us to watch, and… I doubt I’ll be okay sharing it, but we can see if you- ah!” Satoru’s got you lifted so fast you barely can blink, unzipped and turned in moments, leaving you in the prettiest red lace lingerie that makes him groan, his fingertips trembling on your skin. “I said probably not, don’t get excited.”

“I’m excited to bury my face between your thighs again, sweetheart.” You cry out when he’s pressed you on the bed, spreading your thighs and groaning, fingers tugging at your panties.

“How can you make sure my face isn’t there?” You ask softly, he grabs the camera and the stand then, cock just swinging around, balls smacking his thighs, so used to being naked he doesn’t realize his effects. You can’t stop staring when he gets it at the perfect angle, clicking his tongue.

“Just like that,” he murmurs, viewfinder showing your pretty cunt up close, he’s almost furious to think anyone could see it like him, but his career is teetering on the brink of nothing, and if you truly were okay with it, he only sees it as a win.

You broke his dick and now he’s begging to just lick you, and split pay with you, he never thought he’d be so pathetic, but it’s no wonder, thumbing your pussy and spreading it, sighing. “Mnh!”

“So, to keep it anonymous if you decide to show this, don’t speak too personally, okay sweets?” You nod shyly, gasping as he shoves your thighs up. “Also, hold them up high, so all we’re getting is a view of your pussy.”

“Yes, sir.” You tease, but his cock starts leaking again, earning his moan.

“Don’t speak too much, to be safe, I don’t ever want you to feel like anyone would know it’s you. Speak when we’re done, though, you can absolutely moan.” You nod, so nervous, what are you doing!?

It’s as if Satoru Gojo brings something insane and wild out, because there is a thrill of your pussy on camera suddenly, and knowing he is about to worship you, potentially in front of people has your cunt drooling for him. He hits record then, angling his face so his tongue was in perfect view lapping up the arousal, exhaling now as he shoves your thighs up higher.

Perfect, you’re perfect.

“God, look at this pretty pussy,” he murmurs into the camera, parting your folds so all that syrupy arousal can pool out, he hears your sharp intake of breath, watches your red nails pressing into the plush of your thighs. His cock is already back hard, he has to stroke it and whines out as he laps you up, making you gasp.

He's slurping you then, head tilted just so the camera can see, smacking your clit gently, watching you jerk, pressing your thighs up higher and tilting the camera so it's higher, right over his head, looking at it and the reflection of your perfect cunt while he slips the tip of his tongue up. You're moaning at the sensations, twitching hips bringing your cunt more in his face.

Satoru can't stand it, how good you taste, he wondered if it was an illusion but no, you are the sweetest thing he's ever had. “You're so wet, god, take a look…” he's fingering you now, and you hear it while he watches it, glimmering from the soft ring light glowing on your perfect pussy. Making him so dumb he's just burying his face then, forgetting he's filming.

“Mnh!” You're trying not to call out his name, thighs still so high you can't see his face, to protect you from getting seen, until he adjusts it, spreading your thighs further, leaning up to look down at you under lidded eyes, chin coated in your slick. “Satoru…”

“You okay sweets?” His whisper touches you, his concern for you even during this, making sure you're okay. You nod and he exhales in relief, kissing you for a moment, knowing it's what you need, brushing your hair back, sighing as he looks down at you. “You're doing so good. Can you cum for me, baby?”

You nod again eagerly, and he’s dived back down, fingering you with two curled right in your cunt, hitting that spot that blinds you every time, his moans so filthy, guttural while he watches, angling his wrist and hitting something then, you feel so much pressure you panic, gasping, writhing under him.

“Oh my - ngh! Fuck!” You’re struggling to keep your voice a whisper, palming your mouth while you shatter.

“That’s it, right there, cum for me, lemme drink it up. Let everyone see how much you love my fucking tongue.” Pornstar Satoru was ridiculous to handle, hitting you with his fingers and the tip of his tongue on your clit, when the pressure releases, and your orgasm hits so hard you can’t help but scream, twitching as he pulls back in surprise. “Fuck, you’re squirting f’me?”

You have no clue what he means, you don’t see it as it starts pouring all over, making a mess, wet spot under you even as Satoru grabs you by the fat of your ass, licking up as much as he can. You’re a twitching, soaked little mess, your hands gripping his hair now, screams echoing in the room while he eases off you just a bit now, ready to fuck your slick, messy cunt.

He trembles as he pulls back and does one more shot, pressing a sweet kiss to your pussy before shutting off the camera, and leaning up, kissing you, so desperate, while your slick thighs rub together, and you feel the mess. He pulls up and takes a breath, flipping you then, making you gasp, handing you the camera while he kisses the backs of your shoulders, hands on your ass, spreading it wide.

“Watch it, sweetheart,” he whispers, kissing across your shoulder blades, brushing your hair to one side while you barely have the strength to press play, and that’s when you see it. “Look how perfect you are.”

Your pussy right on camera, and him eyeing it like he’s worshipping it, like you’re his fucking altar and his mouth is that offering. Your cunt starts throbbing while he works you, kissing every inch of your body as you fall more and more into the abyss of sin, of lust, of desire- of Satoru Gojo.

“You love it, don’t you baby?” His words are hot against your ear, while you watch him on the screen licking your cunt, watch your thighs tremble, all while he’s behind you, sinking his two fingers so deep in your quivering hole again. You arch your back, moaning now, it feels so good you can’t stand it, so erotic watching this video you two took, while he’s fucking you with his thick fingers.

“I do, but it’s insane… ah! Satoru…” He sighs now, taking his fingers out, pressing them into your mouth for you to suck, which you quickly obey, eyes fluttering shut, the image of his tongue fucking you reflecting in the darkness.

“Keep it for us, or share? It’s all up to you. I’ll never pressure you either way,” he’s soft then, turning your chin as he lays heavy weight over you, and you eye the phone now, hand shaking just a bit, to close it out or to share, he takes your hand, steadying it. “It’s fine to be how you are, you’re perfect, okay?”

“It’s fine to be how you are, Satoru Gojo. A… question, though.” He sighs, leaning close, while he keeps holding your hand, hovering just so.

“Mmhmm?”

“Would I be your favorite co-star?” Your teasing question makes him laugh at the ridiculous nature.

You’re the only one he can even get hard for.

“You’re the prettiest, yummiest, sweetest co star I could have,” his words are just a little broken, as he almost says more. That he hopes your date sucks with that Nanami guy, that he’s planning to show up at your work tomorrow to glare at that man, that he’s become fucking obsessed, but instead - “How could you think you’re not?”

“And we’re… still friends…” You ache for him to say - no, it’s more - but he nods, against your neck, pressing kisses against it. “Even if we fuck?”

God.

He’s dying.

“You think I wouldn’t be your friend anymore? I’m not the guy to get what he wants and go. I promise.” You nod then, smiling just a bit, and tap the share button then, surprising both of you.

“Holy fuck, I did that…” Your whisper is met with Satoru’s kisses now, as your video plays for all to see, your moans on camera mixing with the ones induced from his play, one arm wrapping your body as his cock presses insistently against your ass, hot and heavy.

“Stop me now, because I can’t think of anything but fucking your pretty pussy raw right now,” his desperate words and dilated eyes just serve to ruin you, when you arch your ass up. “Fuck, you sure?”

“I want you inside me, please,” he eagerly leans back, gripping his cock and lifting your thigh, pressing into your tight ring of muscles, almost cumming from the fucking tip. “Ah!”

“You’re so tight, relax I don’t want to hurt you, please.” Satoru whispers it as he grips your chin.

You nod, as he is slipping a little deeper from the back, the stretch burning so deliciously, you’re convulsing while the viewers are going wild over Satoru’s devoted pussy eating skills with his mysterious, faceless co-star. His silk hair brushes your cheek as he exhales heavy in your ear, whispering your name.

You eye the video, the comments, vision blurry, while he sinks his cock deeper, and he moans as he reads the comments to you, filling your cunt so full of his cock, inch by inch - and there are so many, each thrust deeper while you cling to his wrists, his arms wrapping you. He keeps reading them, even as he shoves in all the way, making you jerk and gasp.

“Perfect pussy, look at Satoru go, god she’s so wet for him, she’s cumming so much - is she squirting? Look at that, you’re a regular star, huh? F-fuck…”

“Mnh!” Your eyes roll back in your fucking skull now, lost in him, lost completely. So deeply unraveled under him you can’t remember what this is, that it’s a friend, that it was a scene, that you’re now the girl who did that, anonymous but to know it’s you on that screen with Satoru devouring you does something, fuck it does too much.

He’s murmuring more comments, and his huge cock is stretching your slick, tight heat beyond its means. “That’s it, you love it, huh? They all want to be in your place, or they want to lick you instead, but it’s me, isn’t it baby?” He shouldn’t be possessive, he tries to tell himself it over and over, but how can he not be, when he’s shoved in so deep, he feels the bulge of your tummy, groaning. “Feel me, sweetheart?”

You can’t speak, just nodding desperately, while the feed goes insane, watching your cunt squirt on Satoru’s face while he’s buried inside you, filling you to the hilt, stretching you out so good you forget to breathe. “Toru!”

He pauses at the nickname, your slurred words and pulsing cunt ending him, he could almost cum then and there and he has amazing stamina, but he has to hold back, wrapping a hand around your throat and leaning up on an elbow while you gush down his cock. Satoru kisses up your neck hungrily, eyeing your pussy on the video and then your face, your eyes almost black with pleasure.

“Only I can hit that spot, hmm?” His tip drags along your spongy spot now, and you’re twitching, nodding, so consumed as he surrounds you, breath against your neck, moans in your ear, hand squeezing your throat just so under your chin. His cock twitches as he shoves deeper, impossibly deeper, while you helplessly grip the blankets beneath you. “Answer me, like a good girl.”

“Y-yes.” Your whisper drives him insane, feral, the way your walls quiver around his cock is exquisite, that grip unreal, but more than anything it feels perfect.

“Made for this cock, aren’t you pretty?” The words fall out before he can stop them, and your eyes rolling back, drool spilling out of your mouth while your cunt is pulsing is his answer. “Perfect, fuck…”

“Mnh!” You can’t take it, his words urging you when he shoves his cock so deep, the tip bruising your cervix, making you scream as his guttural moan fills the room, his hand squeezing just enough pressure to make your orgasm blinding, white hot.

“Cumming all over me, so good, listening f’me, hmm?” You just nod weakly, gasping when he flips you to your back, lifting your thighs and shoving them wide, slapping the tip on your slick cunt and groaning. “Wanna watch me fill you up?”

You nervously nod, swallowing now, and he sees it, you’re overwhelmed, he leans down, kissing you, and you’re desperately clinging to his back, eagerly kissing him despite being damn near slack jawed. You exhale nervously, eyeing him is even more intimate, impossibly more, his plush lips still tasting like your honeyed arousal from earlier.

“If it’s too much, tell me, I want you comfortable.” It’s hard for him to speak, but he does, making sure to reassure you, kissing your forehead before he leans back.

“It’s intense, Satoru but… I want it.” He moans at that, sliding his cock back inside, sucking in a breath when you’re gripping him fucking tighter this time, slipping in slowly, inch by inch. “Ah! Satoru, so d-deep!”

“I am, huh? I can get deeper, baby.” You cry out when he shoves his cock in deep with a sharp thrust, and then pauses, eyeing that bulge in your stomach. “Look.”

“Look at… oh.” You’re heating up at the image, and he’s all about angles, he makes sure your eyes catch every bit of his slow thrusts, filling your tummy full of his enormous cock, too much to take, but your cunt is willing and eager, struggling to take his size.

“Fucking you so deep, see it? Your body is so small compared to my cock, pussy stretched too much, f-fuck… god look at you…” He’s losing it, he was trying to talk sexy to you, which comes naturally, but now he’s just obsessed with the image, thin white brows lowering over his eyes, while he slams inside you, your thighs trembling as they wrap his slutty waist. “Oh my god…”

“Satoru… ah!” He’s done, he’s fucking lost in you, in your eyes when he shoves your thighs up, gripping your face with his huge hands while he’s got you bent in half, slamming so hard you scream. “Too much!”

“I need all of you, fuck… can you take more?” His eyes are so bright blue they burn to look at, but you can’t stop yourself, nodding and cupping his face in return.

“Kiss me please.” He moans at that, slamming his lips down when he rocks his hips, cock filling you so deeply you scream into his mouth, hands slipping to his hair while he’s got his heavy weight over you.

“I can’t control it anymore, baby, if it’s too much just fucking hit me at this point,” he’s nonsensical, leaning up now, hands on the back of your thighs in a mating press, fucking you hard now, powerful strokes that take you the fuck out, cumming in moments with a few strokes, making him whimper.

That’s a sound you know he’s never made.

You may be delusional, but you’re sure you’ve only heard him whimper for you, you’ve never seen that look in his eyes on any video or stream, not when he’s staring right into your fucking soul and slamming his cock deep over and over. You’re barely able to cling to the earth, so much pleasure rushing through your body, you feel every vein and ridge of that huge cock as it fucks into you.

“Perfect, pussy is perfect, fucking knew it but god. God… fucking feel her,” he slams into you again, head falling back, giving you a view of his throat before he eyes you once more, shaking his head and slamming his cock harder. “Can she take it?”

You just nod, you’d take anything, the way it feels to be ruined by Satoru Gojo is far beyond his balls slapping your ass, his cock stretching your cunt, his hands bruising your fucking thighs, no it was more. You want to be filled by him, folded under him, you want every bit of it, losing yourself in him, in his bright blue eyes, in his filthy fucking words, in his cock slamming your cervix.

You were ruined, and you knew it.

You feel too much, far too much, when he’s leaned back, holding your thighs high and watching his cock pull out and enter, slowing and rubbing your abused clit. “F-fuck, cum one more time, I’m close… your cunt is so fucking perfect, shit… c’mon, like a good girl, there you go baby…”

It’s like that goddamn dream.

Word for word.

You cum harder than you have, when he shoves into the hilt, stuffing your slutty little hole, blinded and dizzy, hardly able to breathe, while he watches you shatter under him, so fucking beautiful he can’t take it. Your brows drawn together, that sweat making your skin glisten, your mouth open in the sluttiest O, he can hardly stand what the image does to him.

He knows it then, he’s fucking beyond destroyed, and terrified at that fact, at the power you’re oblivious to over him. He almost busts inside you, something he has never done - he doesn’t even go without condoms - the thoughts of filling your cunt full are far, far too tempting. He stops himself, cursing and holding his slick cock at the base while you’re spasming around him, back arching.

“Where do you want all this cum, sweetheart?” He manages to ask, you’re so fucked out you’re dizzy, blinking Satoru’s white hair and pretty face into view as he pulses inside you, just thickening and making you whimper.

“W-what… where… you want, I… mnh!” You’re still cumming, aftershocks rocking you, making your skin so sensitive when he eases your sore thighs down, parting them and pulling out finally, stroking himself as you catch your breath, watching him spurt thick white ropes all over your cunt. “Oh! Oh…”

“Fuck, fuck… god… oh my…” He’s moaning as he’s desperately jerking his slick cock, so much cum it seems impossible, since he just busted so much, and you watch him, enthralled as the hot sticky sperm is coating your cunt. “God, look at it, fucking look at us baby.”

He’s too much, he’s too much.

You thought him eating you out fucked you up mentally, what is he, his insane ass eyes bright as he trembles, strong muscles bunching and tensing, a work of fucking art pouring his cum on you. You’re stuck, at a loss for words, mouth opening and closing, brain not even functional as you look up at this man, knowing this isn’t just sex, it fucking couldn’t be.

It can’t be like this with someone.

You almost spill every feeling then and there, lost in him, in his desperation when he rests his head on yours, moaning against your lips, tip brushing your engorged clit and making you whine out. “God, your pussy is too perfect, it’s… you’re too perfect, feel too good, look too good…”

“Satoru, are you okay?” You whisper softly, he’s slurring his words, almost hard to understand in their hushed whispers in between his pants.

He can’t even answer, pulling back and looking at your pretty cunt, all abused from his cock and puffy, covered in his white ropes. “Can I have a picture? Please, just for me.”

“Y-you want one?” He laughs softly, breathless, nodding, and you heat up at it, looking down shyly. 

“Only you can be adorable with your pussy beat up and coated in cum, huh?”

“Oh god!” He can’t take it, how cute you are, the affection eating at him, as he takes a deep breath, leaning back. “Just one.”

“Fuck…” He takes the phone, eyeing the amount of comments and tips while your breasts heave, trying to catch your breath, sticky cum dripping across your folds when you shift your hips.

“What is it?” You ask softly, he shows you the number, and your eyes nearly bulge out. “Holy fuck!?”

“This is good even for me, shit. Pussy is made for porn.” You’re blushing harder, biting your lower lip when he angles the camera, taking several photos and exhaling at how pretty it looks. “God, look at you.”

“Are you talking to me or my pussy?” He grins then, so boyish and charming it’s as if he wasn’t just fucking you into a mating press and filming your cunt. “Also I said one!”

“Sorry. I’ll make it up.” He’s kissing your thighs then, lapping some of his own cum off your slit, you gasp at the sensation, his tongue on your sore, overstimulated pussy now. Your hands entangle in his hair as he groans. “Fucking taste us.”

“Satoru you’re in-insane and- mnh! Fuck!” You’re shaking when he laps more off of you, desperately lapping at every inch of your cunt now. “Satoru!”

“Gotta clean my pretty costar up, she’s only my costar you know, only one I’ve ever-” He pauses, stopping himself, when you eye him, breasts still gently moving up and down as you eye him.

“Only one you’ve… ngh! Satoru!”

“Taste us.” He’s lapped more of his cum and yours, murmuring for you to open, which you eagerly do, letting him spit his cum and yours in your throat. “Swallow, there you go, see it’s perfect, huh?”

You’re lost then, in the filthy string of words, when he’s back down cleaning you up with a tongue that’s lethal in its precision, rocking his cock on the bed, hard for the third time with you as he moans desperately against you. He’s latched onto your clit, sucking, while you can’t stop cumming, pushed past overstimulation, but not once do you tell him to stop.

You want it.

You need it.

In tears from how much you’ve cum, desperate for more, swapping his cum and yours mixing, against your tongues as he talks you through it, as you lose yourself, Jenna told you not to, she told you not to forget. You are trying to keep it separated, but how the fuck can you?

It felt worth losing yourself, for him, under him, him inside you - around you - taking over everything, while he’s back inside you, his lips murmuring desperate, dirty words into your sweet mouth. When you’re so fucked out you actually pass out blissfully in his arms, you can’t even remember the girl you were a few weeks ago, waking up just to be filled by him again from behind.

Being in his arms, you hope it’ll counteract the pain when he moves on, when he’s kissing you while fucking you from the back, sweet little nothings against your lips filling the room along with the squelching of his cock filling your cunt again. Every inch of your body kissed by him, licked by him, head to your fucking toes, shifting you to some other dimension as you drink each other in, exhausted and desperate.

You’ll think about that pain later, for now it’s all pleasure, aside from the ache in your heart for more, endlessly more.

The love on this story is so sweet, it's FAR from over. Please be patient as these are long chaps and I have other projects, if you're not on the tags you can subscribe to me on ao3 or turn on notifs <3 Can't wait to hear your thoughts

Taglist 1 - @rjreins @juicu @kalulakunundrum @gojoswaterbottle @aldebrana @simp-plague @wedojustbevibin @lucciferr0 @officialholyagua @privthemis @coffee-and-geto @homesickes @msniks @emi311 @mai-505 @gojoslovelylover @ren-ren23 @yihona-san06 @emochosoluvr @sylvermoon @bunheadusa @karvokr @starmapz @queenexplosonmurderr @musiclover2119 @saitamaswifey @reagan707 @midorissi @ghostskilledmyaddiction21 @itsinherited @maisiefrancesca @gyarubunny @theonlyhonoredone @chosslut @simperisksksk @xlilycoco @howlsdarling @femaholicc @maymaymarch @miseryyouth-99 @swoozleee @zeunys @cryingdevil @leafynightmares @princess-bblgm @gojosconsort @insomnicshello @joonunivrs @myahfig4 @silviscosplay

[avelera]

(Meta) The Tragedy of Working for "The Family Business" in Arcane

I recently wrote some meta about how one contributor to Jayce's suicide attempt in Arcane 1.02 was the realization that his only obvious path forward in life after his humiliating trial and expulsion from the Academy was to go into the family business of the Talis hammer factory, and how he chose death over that because such a life would represent a spiritual death of the soul for him, a fate literally worse than death.

That got me thinking about how we have several characters in Arcane who are fighting against working for "the family business" that is, living up to the expectations and desires of their parents. My immediate temptation is to say that Arcane takes the pretty firm stance that it's better to pursue your own dreams but then I stopped myself because no, it's much more nuanced than that.

I'm exploring this as someone whose family also has a family business that I didn't join, who had dreams of artistic pursuits that my family actively discouraged, so this is a very personal topic for me that I feel I can lend some insight to.

Whether or not it's the right thing to "join the family business" and live up to the expectations of the older generation is an active and complex dialogue that goes on within Arcane.

So let's go through the characters and how they reflect on this theme:

Jayce Talis: Just because he's top of mind for me. I believe it's heavily implied that Jayce's dream was to pursue magic and Hextech. Losing access to Hextech and having no choice but to join the family business was a fate worse than death for him, he actively chose suicide instead. And I believe we have hints that Ximena and his late father wanted that for him (see the childhood picture of Jayce and his father, with Jayce proudly holding up the hammer is father almost certainly helped him forge).

But we have some nuance to the discussion of "Was it the right thing?" for him to go into Hextech instead, since it's basically a curse that brought ruin and near-destruction to the world. That said, when Hextech succeeded, all the voices that wanted Jayce to join the family business were silenced and all supported Hextech enthusiastically, including his mother. So while their encouragement of him joining the family business instead of working on his dream might have averted many tragedies, it's not why anyone except Heimerdinger wanted him to do it.

Caitlyn Kiramman: This isn't subtext, this is text. Caitlyn wanted to be a detective, her mother wanted her to be a politician and is clearly uncomfortable even as far back as the shooting competition that Caitlyn wins that her daughter is so adept at shooting instead of diplomacy.

Caitlyn's dictator arc is even directly tied to the creators as a phase of her trying to live up to what her mother would have wanted (including dating nice "girl next door" Maddie instead of undercity dweller and ex-con Vi that both her parents seemed to actively dislike). Caitlyn while mourning her mother keenly feels all the disagreements they once had over her choices in life, and falls to her lowest point spiritually, morally, emotionally, etc. when trying to live up to her image of what her mother wanted for her.

Vi coming back into her life literally gives her the courage to break away from this horrible place where she's found herself, becoming this person she doesn't want to be. Because it's all well and good to say everyone should forge their own path, but it's almost impossible to do without someone who also believes in you and the version of you that you want to be.

Mel Medarda: Insofar as Mel is a tragic tale, which I believe she is, her tragedy is as a child of privilege who never breaks away to pursue her own dreams. I think the tragedies of privilege often, understandably, get overlooked in discussions of fiction but Mel plays out that tragedy writ large. And I don't just mean this from the perspective of the "poor little rich girl" I mean being from privilege can become its own cage. It can dampen ambition, lock one into self-doubt that you can make it on your own without the benefits that privilege gave, it can lead to incredible self-doubt and constant self-measuring against the previous generation because of what they left for you to inherit and to live up to.

Mel is not happy when she returns to Noxus as the new Head of House Medarda. She got everything she wanted in S1, to be recognized by her family and to ascend as a Medarda after her banishment, and nothing she needed. What could Mel have accomplished if she wasn't trying to be a Medarda, or now with or without the magic her mother literally instilled in her veins as a birthright? She may never know. Mel could have been an artist, a spy, an inventor, a diplomat, she showed incredibly aptitude at all these skills but in the end, she just works for the family business.

But Mel doesn't have anyone, not Jayce, not Elora, not her family, to believe in her vision for herself at the end. Instead, she has become the family business.

Jinx: Jinx in S1 is constantly hemmed in and restricted by Silco's desire for her to take over the family business, to help build his weapons, to help him create Zaun. Stupid joke that it is, Sevika confronts her with the fact that she could assume the family business of raising Zaun from the ashes in S2, exactly as Silco wanted. It's one of the more complex instances of "Would it be better if she did, or if she didn't?"

I think the show comes down on, no, it's better for Jinx to go off an live her own life. Sevika, for whom this isn't the family business, is the better steward of Zaun's future going forward. She did the work. She's done the thinking. She's stood by the cause through thick and thin. She believes in it. It's Sevika who should be on the Council.

It's also interesting to contrast Jinx with alternate universe Powder, who also feels trapped by family expectations. Who is constantly reminded she could be doing more. Ironically, that Powder seems to want to join the family business and live behind the bar, but it is clear that it's stifling her true potential, and her loving fathers Vander and Silco in a happier world try to point that out to her.

But it takes Ekko from the main universe believing in her for her to begin to forge her own path.

Viktor: Viktor has no family business to live up to. At most, we have a bit of word of god meta that his parents helped smuggle him into the Academy when they recognize his potential. We have a little bit of Singed/Dr. Revek as a father figure which could represent a family business and if so, it's a tragedy for Viktor when he gives in and decides to "join the family business" and go along with Singed's view of the world.

That said, Viktor's lack of connections, patronage, or family is what helps him inspire Jayce and save his life. Viktor's lack of family business to join is why he had to forge his own path. He points this out to Jayce, who is clearly inspired while at his lowest point. Jayce realizes as a result of this conversation that others have done more than him with less, that his life isn't over because he lost his privileges. That all he really needs is himself or, rather, himself and just one person who believes in him. It's no understatement to say that from that point on, Jayce has given this new life, this like Viktor gave back to him, to Viktor and their shared dream. Viktor is all the family he needs now.

And, likewise, Jayce is the vote of confidence that Viktor needs to break free of his own tragic spiral, one encouraged and egged on by Singed and his expectations. It takes Jayce believing in the better version of Viktor to pull him back to become the person he wanted to be again, in a time paradox loop that is still making me insane.

TL;DR So really, if I must say that Arcane has a thesis, it's that you're better of pursuing your own path but it's difficult, nearly impossible to do, without at least one other person who believes in you.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The specific process by which Google enshittified its search

I'm touring my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me SATURDAY (Apr 27) in MARIN COUNTY, then Winnipeg (May 2), Calgary (May 3), Vancouver (May 4), and beyond!

All digital businesses have the technical capacity to enshittify: the ability to change the underlying functions of the business from moment to moment and user to user, allowing for the rapid transfer of value between business customers, end users and shareholders:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/19/twiddler/

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this thread to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/24/naming-names/#prabhakar-raghavan

Which raises an important question: why do companies enshittify at a specific moment, after refraining from enshittifying before? After all, a company always has the potential to benefit by treating its business customers and end users worse, by giving them a worse deal. If you charge more for your product and pay your suppliers less, that leaves more money on the table for your investors.

Of course, it's not that simple. While cheating, price-gouging, and degrading your product can produce gains, these tactics also threaten losses. You might lose customers to a rival, or get punished by a regulator, or face mass resignations from your employees who really believe in your product.

Companies choose not to enshittify their products…until they choose to do so. One theory to explain this is that companies are engaged in a process of continuous assessment, gathering data about their competitive risks, their regulators' mettle, their employees' boldness. When these assessments indicate that the conditions are favorable to enshittification, the CEO walks over to the big "enshittification" lever on the wall and yanks it all the way to MAX.

Some companies have certainly done this – and paid the price. Think of Myspace or Yahoo: companies that made themselves worse by reducing quality and gouging on price (be it measured in dollars or attention – that is, ads) before sinking into obscure senescence. These companies made a bet that they could get richer while getting worse, and they were wrong, and they lost out.

But this model doesn't explain the Great Enshittening, in which all the tech companies are enshittifying at the same time. Maybe all these companies are subscribing to the same business newsletter (or, more likely, buying advice from the same management consultancy) (cough McKinsey cough) that is a kind of industry-wide starter pistol for enshittification.

I think it's something else. I think the main job of a CEO is to show up for work every morning and yank on the enshittification lever as hard as you can, in hopes that you can eke out some incremental gains in your company's cost-basis and/or income by shifting value away from your suppliers and customers to yourself.

We get good digital services when the enshittification lever doesn't budge – when it is constrained: by competition, by regulation, by interoperable mods and hacks that undo enshittification (like alternative clients and ad-blockers) and by workers who have bargaining power thanks to a tight labor market or a powerful union:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/09/lead-me-not-into-temptation/#chamberlain

When Google ordered its staff to build a secret Chinese search engine that would censor search results and rat out dissidents to the Chinese secret police, googlers revolted and refused, and the project died:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dragonfly_(search_engine)

When Google tried to win a US government contract to build AI for drones used to target and murder civilians far from the battlefield, googlers revolted and refused, and the project died:

https://www.nytimes.com/2018/06/01/technology/google-pentagon-project-maven.html

What's happened since – what's behind all the tech companies enshittifying all at once – is that tech worker power has been smashed, especially at Google, where 12,000 workers were fired just months after a $80b stock buyback that would have paid their wages for the next 27 years. Likewise, competition has receded from tech bosses' worries, thanks to lax antitrust enforcement that saw most credible competitors merged into behemoths, or neutralized with predatory pricing schemes. Lax enforcement of other policies – privacy, labor and consumer protection – loosened up the enshittification lever even more. And the expansion of IP rights, which criminalize most kinds of reverse engineering and aftermarket modification, means that interoperability no longer applies friction to the enshittification lever.

Now that every tech boss has an enshittification lever that moves very freely, they can show up for work, yank the enshittification lever, and it goes all the way to MAX. When googlers protested the company's complicity in the genocide in Gaza, Google didn't kill the project – it mass-fired the workers:

https://medium.com/@notechforapartheid/statement-from-google-workers-with-the-no-tech-for-apartheid-campaign-on-googles-indiscriminate-28ba4c9b7ce8

Enshittification is a macroeconomic phenomenon, determined by the regulatory environment for competition, privacy, labor, consumer protection and IP. But enshittification is also a microeconomic phenomenon, the result of innumerable boardroom and product-planning fights within companies in which would-be enshittifiers try to do things that make the company's products and services shittier wrestle with rivals who want to keep things as they are, or make them better, whether out of principle or fear of the consequences.

Those microeconomic wrestling-matches are where we find enshittification's heroes and villains – the people who fight for the user or stand up for a fair deal, versus the people who want to cheat and wreck to make things better for the company and win bonuses and promotions for themselves:

https://locusmag.com/2023/11/commentary-by-cory-doctorow-dont-be-evil/

These microeconomic struggles are usually obscure, because companies are secretive institutions and our glimpses into their deliberations are normally limited to the odd leaked memo, whistleblower tell-all, or spectacular worker revolt. But when a company gets dragged into court, a new window opens into the company's internal operations. That's especially true when the plaintiff is the US government.

Which brings me back to Google, the poster-child for enshittification, a company that revolutionized the internet a quarter of a century ago with a search-engine that was so good that it felt like magic, which has decayed so badly and so rapidly that whole sections of the internet are disappearing from view for the 90% of users who rely on the search engine as their gateway to the internet.

Google is being sued by the DOJ's Antitrust Division, and that means we are getting a very deep look into the company, as its internal emails and memos come to light:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/03/not-feeling-lucky/#fundamental-laws-of-economics

Google is a tech company, and tech companies have literary cultures – they run on email and other forms of written communication, even for casual speech, which is more likely to take place in a chat program than at a water-cooler. This means that tech companies have giant databases full of confessions to every crime they've ever committed:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/03/big-tech-cant-stop-telling-on-itself/

Large pieces of Google's database-of-crimes are now on display – so much, in fact, that it's hard for anyone to parse through it all and understand what it means. But some people are trying, and coming up with gold. One of those successful prospectors is Ed Zitron, who has produced a staggering account of the precise moment at which Google search tipped over into enshittification, which names the executives at the very heart of the rot:

https://www.wheresyoured.at/the-men-who-killed-google/

Zitron tells the story of a boardroom struggle over search quality, in which Ben Gomes – a long-tenured googler who helped define the company during its best years – lost a fight with Prabhakar Raghavan, a computer scientist turned manager whose tactic for increasing the number of search queries (and thus the number of ads the company could show to searchers) was to decrease the quality of search. That way, searchers would have to spend more time on Google before they found what they were looking for.

Zitron contrasts the background of these two figures. Gomes, the hero, worked at Google for 19 years, solving fantastically hard technical scaling problems and eventually becoming the company's "search czar." Raghavan, the villain, "failed upwards" through his career, including a stint as Yahoo's head of search from 2005-12, a presiding over the collapse of Yahoo's search business. Under Raghavan's leadership, Yahoo's search market-share fell from 30.4% to 14%, and in the end, Yahoo jettisoned its search altogether and replaced it with Bing.

For Zitron, the memos show how Raghavan engineered the ouster of Gomes, with help from the company CEO, the ex-McKinseyite Sundar Pichai. It was a triumph for enshittification, a deliberate decision to make the product worse in order to make it more profitable, under the (correct) belief that the company's exclusivity deals to provide search everywhere from Iphones and Samsungs to Mozilla would mean that the business would face no consequences for doing so.

It a picture of a company that isn't just too big to fail – it's (as FTC Chair Lina Khan put it on The Daily Show) too big to care:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oaDTiWaYfcM

Zitron's done excellent sleuthing through the court exhibits here, and his writeup is incandescently brilliant. But there's one point I quibble with him on. Zitron writes that "It’s because the people running the tech industry are no longer those that built it."

I think that gets it backwards. I think that there were always enshittifiers in the C-suites of these companies. When Page and Brin brought in the war criminal Eric Schmidt to run the company, he surely started every day with a ritual, ferocious tug at that enshittification lever. The difference wasn't who was in the C-suite – the difference was how freely the lever moved.

On Saturday, I wrote:

The platforms used to treat us well and now treat us badly. That's not because they were setting a patient trap, luring us in with good treatment in the expectation of locking us in and turning on us. Tech bosses do not have the executive function to lie in wait for years and years.

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/22/kargo-kult-kaptialism/#dont-buy-it

Someone on Hacker News called that "silly," adding that "tech bosses do in fact have the executive function to lie in wait for years and years. That's literally the business model of most startups":

https://news.ycombinator.com/item?id=40114339

That's not quite right, though. The business-model of the startup is to yank on the enshittification lever every day. Tech bosses don't lie in wait for the perfect moment to claw away all the value from their employees, users, business customers, and suppliers – they're always trying to get that value. It's only when they become too big to care that they succeed. That's the definition of being too big to care.

In antitrust circles, they sometimes say that "the process is the punishment." No matter what happens to the DOJ's case against Google, its internal workers have been made visible to the public. The secrecy surrounding the Google trial when it was underway meant that a lot of this stuff flew under the radar when it first appeared. But as Zitron's work shows, there is plenty of treasure to be found in that trove of documents that is now permanently in the public domain.

When future scholars study the enshittocene, they will look to accounts like Zitron's to mark the turning points from the old, good internet to the enshitternet. Let's hope those future scholars have a new, good internet on which to publish their findings.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/24/naming-names/#prabhakar-raghavan

[aziraphales-library]

hello! firstly i wanted to say that ily all so much. this blog is genuinely one of the best things ive ever stumbled upon so thank you sososo much!

now, i was wondering if you had any more crack, silly fics that you recently read and really enjoyed? I somehow read every single fic that yall had on #crack 😭

anyway, thanks again! <3

Hi! Here are more fics to add to the #crack tag...

it's time to play the music, it's time to light the lights by quitequaintrelle (T)

Something strange is happening to Anthony J. Crowley. Well, more accurately, something strange is happening to everyone other than Crowley.

Sorry, Right Number (aka The Dick Pic Fic) by Thavron (E)

Crowley sends an unsolicited dick pic to the wrong number. Adorably awkward textual flirting ensues. Good evening, I am sorry to inform you that you seem to have sent this message to the wrong number. Your genitals are quite lovely, and I am sure that the intended recipient will be disappointed to have missed out. As I am not the intended recipient, I have deleted the image. I hope that offers some peace of mind. Regards, AZF

The Greasy Pole by AppleSeeds (T)

Furfur gets promoted to Temptations and seeks Crowley's help to learn the necessary techniques. Crowley performs a demonstration with Aziraphale's help, and, thankfully, the angel turns out to be a very good actor when it comes to being receptive to Crowley's attempts to tempt him, but will Furfur have any success when he tries to deploy the same techniques on his own?

what's the name of the game? by Anonymous (G)

Crowley, as an occult being, a former angel, and a causer of chaos has a very attuned sense of shifts in the celestial fabric. He’s no angel, so he doesn’t sense love, or charity, or any of that. But, he knows when the celestial fabric shifts several millimeters to the left. He knows he has a sense for this because Adam’s refusal to finish Armageddon moved the universe four and a half meters to the right. It wreaked havoc on Crowley’s sense of direction and his balance for a good month after it happened. All of that to say, Crowley should have noticed something was up well before the cassettes in his Bentley all started turning into ABBA Gold: Greatest Hits.

and they were tumblrinas??? by everydayistuesday (T)

Look. Crowley didn’t mean to inspire Eric Kripke to write Supernatural. He certainly didn’t mean to get invested, or to have a blog about it on tumblr. And no, he’s definitely not crying over that last episode. What are you talking about? Or: it’s November 5, 2020, and one Anthony J. Crowley is just along for the ride. OR: the gomens November 5 fic absolutely nobody asked for.

Safe, Sane, and Consensual Caffeination by DiscombobulatedBard (M)

Ghostwriter Crowley loves going to Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death and ordering his usual six shots of espresso. Aziraphale, the shop’s new barista, refuses to indulge his unhealthy habit any longer. Crowley will not give up his favorite vice; Aziraphale will not stand by and let him caffeinate himself into oblivion. When an unstoppable force meets an immovable object, who will win the standoff?

- Mod D

[grandline-fics]

Chocolate-covered Strawberries with X-Drake please! You can write it with either a pirate reader or marine or whatever you want, I don't care, thank you!

DESCRIPTION: Chocolate-Covered Strawberries- Unable to resist temptation anymore, they act

WARNINGS:  none

CHARACTERS: X-Drake

WORDS: 1,116

A/N: Hey there anon! Thank you for this request. X Drake is still new for me to write for so I hope I did a good job with this Valentines Event prompt for you. Hopefully this suits what you wanted and that you all enjoy

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST | KO-FI | VALENTINES EVENT MASTERLIST

———————

The life of acting as a double agent had its risks. Drake knew that and accepted it, throwing his full commitment to the cause. There was always the worry of being caught out by the wrong people at the wrong time. That with his true allegiance being discovered and the consequences of the deception falling on the shoulders of those he wanted nothing more to protect. Most of the time he knew his cover was solid, and that those he surrounded himself would never doubt him. To consider that there could be a weak link in his resolve and that the mask would slip was laughable. That is the case certainly, but only because you aren’t around him a lot. Because whether Drake wants to admit it or not, you are his biggest and weakest link. As much as he missed you, part of him was glad that your mission took you in a different direction from him for his own sanity and covert professionalism.

“Need to be careful here, Captain.” Drake glanced over his shoulder to one of his crew as they approached. “Apparently this island’s had a massive Marine presence for the last few months.”

“It’s fine. So long as we keep a low profile we can avoid them unless engaging with them is the last option.” Drake explained as he looked back to the island steadily getting closer. “We’re only here to resupply after all. We’ll dock in that eastern cove to stay hidden. Only a small group is going this time.”

“Understood.” Drake only nodded in response and listened to the subordinate leave him be, returning to his tasks until it was ready. As the ship drifted silently and undetected to their hiding place at the cove, Drake mentally prepared himself for the many different scenarios of what could be awaiting him on this next stop in his journey.  

With a small group of his crew, Drake sent each of them in different directions of the town with individual orders of what supplies they needed. He waited a little while before venturing into the town himself while leaving the care and protection of the ship to the rest of the crew in his absence. Knowing how Marine’s tended to perform their patrols and the common patterns, they were easy to avoid and go about his own tasks. For a moment he believed that if things went this well, he and his crew would be gone without anyone even knowing they’d been there. Then as he stood inspecting a market stall, with his back to the street he overheard the two patrolling Marine’s mention your name in passing, excited to have someone of your rank on the island for a while. Drake’s eyes widened and he quickly glanced over his shoulder to see their backs getting further away. Were you truly here on this island?

He tried to ignore the way his heart leapt in a sudden frenzy of mixing nerves and excitement. No, he couldn’t risk seeing you. You were here for a mission and he was branded a wanted man. It was reckless, selfish to try and find you. If the wrong person saw him and you, you would be the one to suffer. You could be branded a traitor and stripped of the titles you earned through your strength and hard work. He had to be strong, he couldn’t let his weakness win. Quickly he made his purchases and forced his mind to stay firmly on the task at hand; get the supplies, go to the ship, leave. Simple. He could do it. He would do it.

Drake left keeping out of sight of the Marines to his base instincts and muscle memory because his entire focus and mental endurance was being used to fight every urge and fibre in his being to try and find you. Anytime the little voice in his head tried to convince him that just a little peek at your face would be okay, he had to tell himself no. But every step and every mental argument that crept into his mind was harder and harder to fight. Because really, what was the harm? If he kept his distance and just saw that you were okay from afar then he could continue on his way, reassured in the knowledge that the person he loved was still safe. That was fine. Right?

Blinking out of his stupor as his mind sharpened with the resolve to just get a passing glance of you he blinked in surprise to see he wasn’t headed in the direction of the cove like he thought he had been. Instead he was deeper in the town’s layout, one face amongst many in the crowd of civilians and tourists. Drake couldn’t help but subtly laugh, it hadn’t mattered what his mind tried to fight, his body had already subconsciously made the decision to seek you out. He looked around and sure enough through the throng of people he found you immediately. The rush of love and longing coursed through him powerfully and he ground his teeth together as he now faced the fact that he couldn’t just see you. It wasn’t enough. It was never enough.

Quickly he slipped through the crowd, following you as you walked down the street. Then when it seemed to be quiet enough, he acted. Pushing power into his leg, Drake got to your side and pulled you into a small and shadowed side-street before anyone else came along. Immediately you reacted, disengaging from his hold and drawing your weapon. Just as you were about to attack you froze, breath catching in your throat to see the love of your life standing in front of you. The both of your stared at the other for a second before closing the distance and kissing eagerly, pouring every ounce of your longing for the other into the moment, desperate to make up for the many months since you’d last crossed eachother’s paths.

Breaking apart and catching your breath you smiled as Drake set his forehead against yours. Softly and knowingly a small laugh broke from your lips as you leant into the feeling of his arms around yours. “So how long between knowing I was here to finding me did it take this time?” You grinned at the feeling of Drake’s body tensing and the sudden flustered warmth of his skin at being so predictable. It was why you loved him so much, to everyone else he was such a mystery or they only got to see one version of him and it was usually false. You, however got to see and know the real him. “That quick, huh?”

——————————————-

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[sophie-hatter-jenkins]

Hello <3

I love LOVED evolution and i always checkout your rec list !!

Do you have any recommendations for extremely angsty (rated m or t) hinny?

Just delicious angst- which obviously ends with them together- it could be emotionally unavailable harry, or FWB or anything really.

Lots of love <33

Hi, Anon! 

Thanks so much for the ask, and for saying lovely things about Evolution, I am so glad you enjoyed it!

Sorry for the delay in replying, while I was putting this list together I found myself getting very distracted reminding myself why I love all these fics.

Anyway, let's get on with what you came for, shall we?

Welcome to Sophie’s Hinny Fic Recs: Angsty Edition!

You specifically asked for T or M rated fics, but there are a few here that are rated E. I’ve included them because 1) they’re great, 2) some of the M rated ones are no less explicit and 3) angsty-Hinny really can’t seem to keep it in their pants. Anyway - I’ve marked which is which, feel free to use your discretion on which links you click.

I’ve got a bunch of completed fics for you, and also some great WIPs, if you want to hop on to those with me!

But let’s start with the Completed ones:

Castles - @pebblysand - Canon-compliant Post DH - rated M

God, I find it hard to explain how much I love Castles. It’s just extraordinary - and certainly angsty! Hinny is core, but, there is SO MUCH MORE here. Mind the tags, there is some difficult (though sensitively handled) subject matter here.

The Potters and the Weasleys - @goodlifewrites - Hogwarts magical AU - rated G

Enemies to lovers done really well, which is hard for Hinny, plus extra bonus points for being Jily Lives, basically my catnip.

Knowing Where To Look - @ala-baguette - Canon-compliant Post DH - rated T

Hinny are not the focus here, but they're definitely in angsty mode and it hits just right. Plus it’s a rollocking good mystery, super-atmospheric and a really interesting POV.

If you never bleed you’re never gonna grow - mp143 - Post-Hogwarts canon-divergent - not rated, but I’d say definitely M

I recently rediscovered this fic, and while it’s not the angstiest on this list, there’s plenty of pining and soul-searching on show, plus (magical aspects aside) one of the most true-to-life pregnancy stories I’ve read.

Off-Kilter - @remedialpotions - Canon-compliant Post DH - rated M

Interesting first-person Harry POV, as Hinny struggle to sort themselves out post-battle. You’ll want to go straight on and read the sequel, August, too.

Too Close - Scared Of Clouds - Magical AU - rated T

Bodyguard fic, in which Auror Ginny is assigned to protect an extremely uncooperative and reclusive Harry. 

persist and resist the temptation to ask you - @nuatthebeach - Muggle AU - rated M

Well, you didn’t think I was going to do a rec list without including it, did you?? Seriously, I am on an absolute mission to make more people read this!

such a beautiful blank but smooth it - Pocketfullof, smutty_claus - Groundhog Day/Fairy Tale-inspired magical AU - rated E

Ginny is doomed to try and win Harry’s heart, over and over, in just one day. It’s such an interesting premise, with much angst for poor old Ginny.

In Case Of Emergency - lilyevansJan30 - Magical AU - rated M

Auror Harry and Quidditch Player Ginny find themselves in an exes-with-benefits situation, which is absolutely fine, right up until it isn’t.

And now for the WIPs!

This list would absolutely not be complete without including the undisputed queen of Hinny Angst, the marvellous @takeariskao3, and two absolutely top notch angsty WIPs

Already Gone - takearisk - Amnesia fic - rated M

Ginny wakes up in St. Mungo’s following the battle at the Department of Mysteries … or so she thinks.

The Path From You - takearisk - Magical AU - rated M

Angst-drenched exes are forced together when Auror Harry is assigned to Quidditch Pro Ginny’s case.

Beasts - @whinlatter - Post-DH canon-compliant - rated M

One of my very favourite takes on Ginny, in her final year at Hogwarts after the end of the war.

you don't know what's lost 'til you find it - mp143 - Magical AU - not rated, but I’d say definitely M - features a major character death

Told in two alternating timelines - how Hinny got together in the wake of an unimaginable tragedy, and how they reconnect after years co-parenting their daughter strictly as friends.

Whelve - @seriouslysam8 - Magical AU - rated M

You want angst? I’ll show you angst! An older Hinny deals with the return of their eldest son 11 years after being kidnapped as a young child. Devastatingly awesome.

[oneknightstand-if]

Reverie (Interlude Adrian)

From the beginning, some part of him knows that this is only a dream. Through the muzzy sleeping logic, the strange ephemeral nature of his surroundings, both illogical and hauntingly familiar, and through the static that fills his brain, he must've sensed it, even though he was never a lucid dreamer like his friend.

His friend standing before him, shirt half unbuttoned as it bares the curve of their throat, the slanting temptation that dipped down to their chest, with a smile that is enigmatic — innocent — alluring — haunted.

His legs are rooted beneath him like old oak in an ancient forest. His legs are the dainty limbs belonging to a white stag that should send him bounding away. No, that's what they should be, but this is only a foolish dream.

Yes, that's most certainly his excuse as he half closes the distance between them — only half is needed as the world lurches and shortens, MC gliding forward the final few steps.

Their limbs desperately entangle each other, sliding along bodies that press heatedly close, along the arch of a still-clothed back, along the swell of buttocks that he possessively pulls close, as MC's fingers tangle painfully in his hair.

There shouldn't be any pain in dreams, right? But that's always been a lie. One amongst so many.

Hey, guess who's spicy drabble came in second place for October? (Yes, Adrian is completely delighted with this winning). Available on the Riders of the Apocalypse Groupie tier (and above) on my Patreon.

[celianity]

Training Session

Jordan Li x Reader

Prompt: you agree to a training session with Jordan, to (kinda) make them pay for breaking your heart on a night out

Word count: 1.075 _________________________________________

You should have stayed in your dorm room.

Should have studied for the upcoming exam tomorrow.

Should have kept your eyes down on that glass contained firepit in the middle of your sitting area in that goddamn club your roommates Marie and Emma dragged you to.

Should have ignored that buzzy feeling in your gut as you felt a certain pair of brown eyes on you from across the flames.

Should have not given into the temptation to catch a glimpse of the shadows dancing on their unreadable face.

And you certainly shouldn’t have entertained the foolish idea of there being an unspoken connection between the two of you after having had one conversation (that didn’t particularly go well).

Now, tell that to the anger bursting through your veins as you keep on hitting the punching bag hanging from the ceiling of the training facility. You are cursing your friends’s names under each breath whenever your fist connects with the unyielding leather of the bag.

Just as you reach out to steady the swinging chain, the door behind you opens, revealing the person you wanted to avoid at all costs. Preferably forever.

Jordan Li strolls in, duffle bag slung over one shoulder, wearing a distracting gray tank top.

You avert your gaze and try to focus on your routine again while unable to shake the feeling of them watching your every move, practically burning holes into your back.

Eventually, they suggest a one on one fighting session. “Looking at your punches, you’re in desperate need of it. Not to mention your footwork.” There is a teasing edge to their voice, but you stuck out your chin, nonetheless, incited to show them just how good your foot would work on their face.

“And yet, there you are, preparing for the worst.” You consider them with your arms crossed defensively over your chest. You didn’t miss the fact that they changed forms after challenging you.

The duffle bag lands on the floor with a thud. Since you are the only ones in the training center this early in the morning, the sound’s almost deafening.

As you take up positions across from each other on a training mat, the rage in your veins flares anew. Having this little distance between yourself and last night’s almost mistake, you can’t help being annoyed at your traitorous heart for still fluttering like a bird in its cage.

You try not to focus too hard on the daring gleam in Jordan’s eyes but instead on the recoil as your fist slams into their right shoulder. It feels like hitting a brick wall with full speed. A knowing half smile tugs at the corner of their mouth, making you curse yourself for feeling your cheeks heat up.

The pain in your fingers doesn’t stop you from making another advance right after this failed one but they beat you to it. You feel the energy blast washing over you, snatching you off your feet in a matter of seconds.

Thanks to your quick reflexes, you manage to turn mid fall and land on your feet in a crouched position, softening the otherwise ankle crushing blow.

“Nice trick”, Jordan taunts and quickly switches to their male form again as you storm up to them, ready to tear down their body armor until your hand can clutch around their heart like theirs did to yours unknowingly.

What follows is a mishmash of hands and feet, kicks, and punches.

Feeling their muscles work with every movement begins to mess with your head. The sweat covered skin of their bicep under your palms also doesn’t help the least to get your thoughts back on track.

Just as you see your chances of winning waning thin, you manage to land a kick against the back of their knees that makes them buckle in surprise.

You wrap an arm around their neck, catching them in a headlock and demanding to be declared the triumphant. Somehow, they manage to gain just enough space in your grip to whirl around and press a featherlight kiss to the underside of your jaw as a distraction maneuver. And it fucking works.

Taken aback, you lower your guard for the fraction of a second just to be blown backwards by a precise hit to your ribcage. In a desperate attempt to gain some stability, you get a hold of their tank top’s collar.

Your intertwined groans echo through the still empty training room, searing right to the bottom of your stomach. A few strands of hair have escaped Jordan’s slick back ponytail.

Bodies pressed together, flashes of last night involuntarily invade your head. The booming bass and strobe light.

Jordan’s body pushing a stranger against the wall near the dance floor where you let loose with Marie and Emma. A swift changing in positions and Jordan’s dark eyes were finding you over the heads of the crowd as their acquaintance moved down on their neck.

The memory sends a shiver down your spine and their grip on your back straightens automatically. You don’t have to say a word for them to know what’s causing that haunted look on your face.

“I didn’t think it a possibility.” Their voice is barely above a whisper and before you can overthink it again, you grab their chin with your right hand and crash your lips down on theirs.

Sometime when stumbling to the nearest wall, Jordan becomes the impatient one, shoving you backwards until your back hits the hard concrete and you’re caged in between their arms on both sides of your head.

Anger and resentment come undone as you melt into their embrace.

The move of your lips getting more feverish, now tilting your face upwards to meet the new height difference.

Hands on hot skin, desperate panting, burning glances.

As Jordan’s fingertips brush along the waistband of your sweatpants, asking for an invite, everything in you protests against your decline.

Slowly you retreat, cheeks aflame, hair and feelings a mess, to state the obvious. “Class starts in twenty minutes.”

Jordan takes a step back and smooths out their tank top, putting on a casual demeanor to mask the fact that they were ready to risk it all.

On your way to the door, you regard them with a smug smile. “For the record, you also didn’t think that I could beat you in a fight. So, I hope you can handle two truths in one day.”

[blublublujk]

nobody knows (2)

-> part 1

word count: 3k

genre: established relationship (hard dom x slutty sub)

pairing: hoseok x reader and jungkook x reader

summary:

a few minutes pass as you entertain yourself on some random game on your phone before he messages again. daddy: if you even think of actually going out with a friend i’ll chop their dick off.  me: who said it would be a man?  daddy: have fun then baby don't stay out too late! 

warnings: [please read if you are sensitive] hard dom hoseok!!, needy sub reader!!, hoseok is actually sweeter this time, cheating ig?, reader gets her period, explicit sexual content: idk how i forgot this last time but DADDY KINK, thumb sucking, blowjob, throat-fucking, pictures during sex, shy awkward virgin jungkook, sexting, cum on panties, suggestive language

a.n: i'd let this hoseok ruin my fucking life. this is so fun. can you tell he's my bias >.< tbh im making up all plot on spot i wanted to explore the actual relationship first before we see anything else of jk x reader. hoseok can be sweet... he needs to fuck the reader already!!! anyways thanks for being very patient with me. see you on the next one ^.^

—> m.list

—> find me on ao3 & twt

--

“baby.” hoseok’s lips are warm against your cheek, hot breath hitting the soft skin. “i’m off to work.”

your voice is groggy, hair a mess, but it doesn’t stop you from flinging out of bed in a pout. “already? you said we could do breakfast.”

“yeah, well plans changed. i really needa finish this song i’m working on. i’ll be back before dinner. no promises though.” hoseok doesn’t hesitate to say the words, he doesn’t look back as he fixes his collar and brushes fingers through his bed hair. an apology would be nice, but it never comes. 

this is the third time this week hoseok misses breakfast, much less makes it to dinner. somehow always managing to create more work for himself and keep busy while you rot away in the dormitory. it wasn’t fair to you, though you can’t really say you didn’t sign up for this. you knew exactly what this lifestyle came with, fame and money only meant hoseok would never truly be yours as you are his and you had to simply respect that. as sad and lonely as you can be at times. 

“but daddy—” 

“not now angel, you’ll be good for me right?” and just like that you succumb to his strong, firm demeanor. he digs his thumb into the fat of your cheeks, flicking your bottom lip. hoseok licks his own, watching your mouth take his thumb. immediately he feels your warm tongue, sucking him in like a vice, mouth so pliant and fuckable. 

he takes that as a ‘yes daddy’ the way you look up at him while you suck on his thumb like the sweet girl you are. eyes heavy and lustful. 

well, if he isn’t gonna do breakfast with you as he promised, you’ll get yours right now. two can play the same game, but only one wins in the end. something tells you that you fall victim to the game anyways, it was never yours to win. 

your hands find his waistband as you look up to him with hopeful eyes. he’ll probably be late if he plays this game, but it’s too much fun to resist. plus, which man on earth is known for rejecting a blowjob. certainly not this one. 

hoseok tugs his pants down, allowing you to pull down his boxers as his cock springs to life. he takes his thumb out of your mouth and caresses your cheek carelessly, smearing your own spit all over it. the things he would do for that face, so pretty and willing. and all fucking his.

you get to work and on your knees immediately. grabbing his cock in your hands, you lick and suck the tip while hoseok throws his head back, feeling you slurp him down. he fails to resist the temptation to fuck your throat so with no warning he holds a tight grip of your hair and forces your head down. mouth hot and tight around him, wetting his cock so nicely. 

eyes springing tears already, but alas he’s not gentle. he fucks your throat and you feel him grow larger in your mouth, drooling spit all over yourself. “fuck baby, you’re perfect.”

you moan airily, struggling to breathe as he thrusts harder, throat stretching for him and him only. just like you were made for it. 

he groans, feeling that warm wet grip swallowing around him. “just like that, such a slut for it. don’t think you deserve my cum.”

you shake your head profusely, sad-eyes looking up at him while sharp eyes mirror your own. his lips tug at the end and he’s smirking watching you desperately beg for it. 

he releases his grip, spit instantly drips from your mouth, covering yourself with your own juices. it’s a mess, but you both love it for different reasons. his dick stands tall and proud, swollen and wet around the tip. 

he starts to fuck his own fist, thanks to you, he doesn’t even got to spit on it anymore. his dick is wet plenty. he watches your lustful eyes crave for it, practically foaming at the mouth for it. though you are still gasping for air, you wish he would just fuck it out of you again. you want him so so so bad. 

your hands try to reach up at him, but he slaps them away, he isn’t rough and it doesn’t really hurt, but the warning is enough for you to drop them back down. your hands start to rub against your bare thighs, iching to release your own arousal. 

“baby’s horny?” it’s like he’s teasing you, almost laughing in your face, his cock is so close to your face you can still taste it. 

you instantly nod though with hopes that he’ll help you out. 

“yeah? you need daddy’s cock inside you?” hoseok taps his cock against your cheek, pre-cum smearing onto it. it’s cruel the way he toys with his food, but what can he do when you react so beautifully to it. you’re just too easy. 

“yes. plu-please.” you whine. 

“yes what.” he barks.

“yes d-daddy. i want it so bad.” 

you hear him hum pleased, as he continues to jack himself off, he’s getting close and you know it, because his eyes start to hood and he’s breathing heavier. all the more of a reason you wish he would just shove it in you, your pussy is dripping wet for it. if only he were to see himself, he would never stop fucking you!

“stand up.” he orders.

fucking finally.

with wobbly legs you stand and he rough pulls down your shorts. a hand still heavy on his cock, gripping the fuck out of it. 

“let me see inside those pretty panties.” 

hoseok wastes no time to nut his seed all over the inside of it, covering your bare cunt with his juices and dripping all over the fabric. you both look down as his cum decorates the inside of your panties so beautifully, both panting at the sight. “stay there.” 

the taller tugs his pants back up and grabs his phone. he pulls you in for a sudden quick kiss before he takes a picture of the mess he made. “such a perfect sub.” 

with another kiss, he puts his phone away and grabs your wrists, tugging your hands off your panties. your panties sit back so prettily and wet against your pussy now. they are sticky and it feels pretty gross against your skin, but you start to forget about it when you feel hoseok’s tongue down your throat. 

he finally pulls away with one final kiss, pulling your shorts back on. “go back to bed baby.”

“but ‘m not tired.” you mumble, still horny as ever. cunt begging for cock. anything. 

“don’t pout angel. it won’t get you anywhere. i’ll be back later. behave.” and with that, hoseok leaves to work (or so he says), leaving you wet and lonely. 

to no surprise, hoseok in fact does not make it to dinner. to your surprise, he’s kind enough to leave you a sweet text message instead though. 

daddy: [attached image] miss that perfect pussy. you’re so beautiful you know that?

me: you missed dinner

daddy: that’s no way to talk to me angel  i said no promises

me: yeah well, i’ll just have dinner with a friend instead ig

daddy: who? 

me: wouldn’t you love to know.

daddy: you know i’ll find out anyways?  like you could hide anything from me

me: you’re an ass

daddy: you are what you eat

you don’t bother to reply nor entertain his not so funny jokes, but your phone buzzes again to absolutely no surprise. however the following message makes your heart fall straight out of your ass. 

daddy: i’m sorry angel.  i promise to be home for dinner tomorrow. is that better? 

the pit of your stomach burns, really it’s the bare fucking minimum, but you can’t help the way it flips into butterflies. a smile forming on your face. 

me: yes daddy

daddy: good girl the very best

a few minutes pass as you entertain yourself on some random game on your phone before he messages again.

daddy: if you even think of actually going out with a friend i’ll chop their dick off. 

me: who said it would be a man? 

daddy: have fun then baby don't stay out too late! 

hoseok’s messages make you giggle so hard. sometimes you forget this is the person you are with, the one you share every little moment with, and the one that would absolutely kill you despite your entire past with him for thinking about someone else. someone younger, bit buffer, close to them. the person they’ve always known all their life. and here you are contemplating doing it all over again. it’s scary how thrilling it all feels. a pawn in your own game and you don’t even know it. 

luckily for you and unfortunately for hoseok, there’s no dinner and especially no friend, but there is jungkook. he’s home again, earlier than everyone, as expected. 

the younger follows the same routine he has as soon as he gets home. he immediately hops into a quick shower and doesn’t come out to eat till way later. busying himself with who knows what. 

jungkook is a bit awkward, more nervous, and careful around you since the whole movie situation, the one where your tits were out by the end of it while he was driving holes into them with his eyes. 

it makes you a bit frustrated. at this point, you're begging for attention and he hardly budges, but you also understand his fear. 

“that was good noona, thanks.” jungkook picks up his plate, rushing to wash it off and lock himself back in his room. 

you hardly ever make dinner like that, but you figured it would be a great way to pass time and an excuse to get off your ass and do something that doesn’t involve rotting away in bed, lonely and horny. and all very much alone. this way, you don’t have to be alone. this way, jungkook fills the empty spot and he doesn’t even know it. 

jungkook is quick in the kitchen and you hate it. you obviously weren’t gonna let this happen, not under these circumstances, and not in this way. not after everything. “jungkookie, can you do me a favor?” 

“s-sure.” his hands are wet from the sink as he places the plate down, eyes hesitant to look up. 

“it’s just, i just got my period and my stomach hurts. a lot.” a hand caresses your tummy lightly, putting pressure where it hurts. thankful that your period arrived after this eventful/uneventful morning. 

“oh… im sorry. can i help?” he asks to be nice, not denying you a damn thing. 

“can you massage it?” you plead without shame.

“me-e?” he stutters, pointing at himself, flushing pink.

“mhm, who else silly!” 

jungkook awkwardly laughs. “yeah okay. lay down noona, i’ll try to make things better.” 

with that your back goes on the couch while you look up at him with sweet eyes. “thank you jungkookie, it feels much better when someone else is doing it.” 

“yeah, of course.” he lamely replies. 

very carefully, you slide your shirt up, revealing much more skin than intended (not really though). the mounds of your breasts sit so pretty like this and it leaves nothing to his imagination. your underboob peaks through and jungkook holds back a sharp gasp.

he refocuses on his mission, hands shaking as he brings them closer. “m gonna touch you now noona.”

though it wasn’t his intention, his suggestive usage of wording nearly makes you moan. you bite your lip to prevent it. 

“please.” you whisper calmly, desperately. 

jungkook nods and cold hands touch your tummy. they are a bit stiff at first because he doesn’t really know what he’s doing, but he starts getting a hang of it when he hears you lightly hum pleasantly. 

he explores your skin, with every noise you make filtering his ear he finds what you enjoy and don’t. he rubs feather-like circles against your soft skin, thumbing over curves and your plushy stomach. you feel so warm in his hands and that makes him feel so good, too good. and the fact that he’s never ever done this before. jungkook thinks it's possible he can cum in his pants, just by doing this alone! he’s really, really lame. 

“feels so good, jungkookie.”

“yeah…” he strains, hands heavier on your stomach, but they warm up feeling so nicely against your skin. 

“can you- lower, can you go lower?” 

his hands are barely above, around your belly button, avoiding anything further down, not sure if it is for his own sake or yours. he’s scared and it’s obvious by the lack of movement. 

jungkook avoids your eyes as his hands freeze, hands weighing down on where he was last massaging. “wan— want me lower?”

“yes.” surely he knows what you mean. “please.” 

“oh- okay.” the younger says nothing more. 

jungkook resumes his movements, his hands going much further down your stomach, just right above your waistband. he thumbs your underwear, trying very hard to hold his breath whenever his fingertips come in contact with the thin yellow fabric whilst still rubbing patterns into your lower belly. he’s hoping you don’t hear how heavy and much faster his breathing has gotten. he’s struggling for air, face beet red. not sure if it’s out of embarrassment or his own humiliation driving him nuts. 

he’s not sure what he’s doing anymore. or what has gotten into him. it’s like his dream is set right before his eyes and yet he knows he really shouldn’t be here and doing this. much less with someone like you, but for whatever reason he can’t stop. 

“f-feels better?” jungkook asks, light-airy voice. 

“much, much better.” you reply truthfully, your stomach buzzing warmly. your eyes take in every movement on his face. from his eyes to his nose, to the way his cheeks puff as he breathes. he’s beautiful. much more when you have him this close, and nothing is stopping you from what you do next. 

jungkook’s breath hitches when he feels your soft lips on his cheek. eyes nearly bulging out his sockets because he doesn’t believe his reality. this just can’t be. no one has ever shown this much interest in him. especially not someone as untouchable as you.

it lasts no longer than ten seconds, but jungkook turns into jelly within that time. you aren’t sure why you do it, but it’s the only reasonable way you could possibly come up with to show your appreciation for all he’s done. for being sweet and patient. he’s too generous for his own good. 

“thank you jungkookie, you’re so sweet.” he doesn’t even realize you’ve already pulled away and his hands are no longer feeling your heated flesh until he’s watching you walk away, hiding behind the door to your room. hoseok’s room. yours and hoseok’s room. he shouldn’t be feeling like this, but he can’t help the way his stomach twists in knots. 

jungkook is left completely speechless, confused. 

he shamefully walks back to his own room with no other word, skipping his night routine completely. fuck skincare, he can go a night without it. he’ll manage. 

that night, hoseok arrives fairly early. well at least, earlier than usual. you’re still awake when you feel his hand on your hip, feeling his lips pecking the tip of your ear. 

“you’re home?” 

“yeah, got off a bit earlier than expected. did you eat?” he asks quietly, thoughtful enough to not disturb others. hoseok’s lips still softly kissing behind your ear, practically making you melt into the bed. if you could purr, you are more than sure you’d start purring right about now. hoseok has always been very hands-on, it’s what you adore about him. always making it known how much he wants and needs you. 

“i did. have you?” you ask to be polite, though you most likely already know the answer. hoseok may be busy, but he never skips his meals. his discipline is insane. he’s busy, but not ever enough to starve himself. he cares about his mental and physical being just as much as everything else. and he plans on keeping it that way for as long as he lives. 

“yeah. they brought take-out from that one place in downtown you like.” 

that calls for your slightest attention, shifting your face from your pillow to face him, even in the dark your eyes find his. “zuki’s?”

“mhm.” hoseok steals a kiss like this, sharing a breath as he continues. “that very one.”

“lucky.” you pout, sadly with cramps still lingering around your pelvic area. 

“yeah… i brought you some.” he says so nonchalantly. 

the older laughs when he feels you shove yourself, full force onto him, hugging him with all your might. “really?!”

“yes, left it in the fridge for tomorrow.” hoseok pauses, fingers tangled in your blow dried hair and breathes in your sweet fresh scent. “unless you wanna eat a late night meal then be my guest.” 

“well, i just got my period so...” you contemplate that damn meal, almost sorta justifying your not-so-healthy options.

“then let’s go. i’ll sit with you while you eat.” your boyfriend decides for you instead, tugging you up very gently without another word. 

there’s was nothing more to say or decide, hoseok watched as you ate the meal very pleasantly, humming here and there, devouring it all in minutes. you were a very happy, happy girl. and hoseok was a happy man watching you eat so easily. he’d do it all over again if it meant he could see that perfect smile all the time. 

and like that, you forget all about today and what made you upset. you are so stupid to think he could ever not love you and care for you. who else than him. even if you have heavily committed your mistakes, so has he, but he loves you, and nothing else matters. 

but then again, in another room, jungkook is tearing himself up for it. even though, he’s not really at fault. is he? it sure feels like it is anyways. 

at least, it felt that way after beating his cock raw and swollen. flashbacks from earlier crowding his virgin-mind. he’s so so fucked, it’s laughable. pathetic really.

jungkook tries so hard to ignore it and at first he succeeds, but then he hears a bubble of laughter coming from the room beside him and he knows he’s been beaten once again. 

“i love you.” 

“i love you too baby.” 

that’s the last thing jungkook hears before he falls into a deep sleep, eventually succumbing to his exhaustion and overthinking mess. the crowding anxious thoughts die for the first time that night.

[yanderes-galore]

What do you think of this idea for a scenario? Reader losing their soul to Overlord! Husk in a poker game. It will be amazing if the reader starts as arrogant, thinking they can beat the cat in his own game. Then, after an intense match, their confidence turns to fear and regret when Husk puts the last card on the table and shows that he has won.

Warning, I know NOTHING about poker, so this might be short as I can't do any specifics :( Yet I hope I get my point across.

House Always Wins

Yandere! Overlord! Husker Scenario

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Possessive behavior, Stalking, Ownership, Soul deals, Forced relationship implied.

Gambling is a pass time for many demons. Greed breeds arrogance and many Sinners tend to show off at the casino. You were no different...

Poker's your favorite game.

Money is a common thing to bet. You've bet tons of it and been confident in your craft. You've won many games... It's all just a fun game.

But, of course, greed drives people to get addicted...

You needed to up the stakes.

For a long time you have been trying to get yourself to Overlord status. Demons naturally crave power. Sinners wish to become Overlords... Overlords wish to become stronger...

It's a social ladder.

Confidence is such a poisonous emotion. It only brings in trouble to those who have too much of it. Having a little isn't too bad... but too much can cloud your judgment.

Husker could practically smell you as a potential challenge.

Husker had been hearing rumors of a Sinner trying to make it big in the casino. He's an Overlord who frequents this place and considers it his territory in a way. So the idea of someone else being a threat to his title...

He certainly felt he should look into it.

During your games you had always felt you had eyes on you. Your feelings were confirmed when you turned one day to see Husker watching you with intrigued eyes. He enjoys watching your games, shuffling his cards thoughtfully as his tail sways.

What a tantalizing Sinner you are... acting like you run the place....

If you want to move up in Hell's social ladder, challenging an Overlord is certainly the way to go. The idea of power... of feeding your ego... it's a temptation sweeter than any vice. As tension grows between you and the Overlord... you feel as though you're being drawn in...

Eventually, you get up from your seat, strolling to the Overlord's table before leaning on the table.

"How about we play a game?"

A bold move coming from you... dangerous too.... However, Husker didn't mind. You looked like a fun prize to toy with.

"How about we make it a deal, then?" Husker's voice is a purr as he considers your offer. You merely grin back, confidence flowing through your veins with no drinks needed.

Or... not many.

"If you win, I'll give you my soul... If I win I get your title as Overlord."

It's a bold deal, one that makes Husker laugh. Eventually he calms down, shaking your hand lightly before gesturing to sit. He could tell you were confident...

Too confident, actually.

Your naiveté is adorable.

"A fine deal... Hope you provide a good challenge to back up all that talk." Husker chuckles, readjusting his suit as he watches you sit. "Make this worth my while, will you?"

It's then chips are put out... cards are placed...

Then the game begins.

Husker finds your arrogance adorable. There's times he himself feels this way when it comes to gambling. However... He knows how to control himself for the most part...

You do not.

You are such a fun challenge for the cat. He's been trying to see how challenging you'd be since he first saw you. Now he's quite pleased to see you in action...

Even more pleased to see your confidence slowly crumble as he beats you round after round.

Each round Husker manages to slap down the winning hand. Each round he takes more chips. Each round you begin to realize what you signed up for.

"Cat got your tongue?" The Overlord in front of you teases, leaning on the table as you struggle to look at your hand. "Where's all that confidence gone? You have such a cute look on your face when you think you're going to win...."

By the last round, you can't even bring yourself to watch as Husk puts down the last card. It's a winning hand and you know it. You can hear Husker chuckle at your sudden meek behavior...

You know what comes next...

Especially when you feel a chain click around your neck, Husker looking all proud of himself.

"According to my deal, you get to be my prize." Husker grins, fangs glinting as he yanks on the soul chain.

"It was a good game, don't you think? Always great to exploit over confident fools... You put up a good fight though." Husker praises as you're brought close to him.

"Thanks for playing..." Husker purrs, claws caressing your cheek as though he's studying a precious gem...

"I think I'll enjoy my new prize, darling."

[princess-leaorgana]

Not What I Was Planning

Fandom: Dragon Age The Veilguard

Pairing: Emmrich x Leo de Riva (Male Crow Rook/OC)

Summary: First time Leo and Emmrich say the big 'L' word. Very cute, no sex, but there are nude bath time snuggles.

All Emmrich wanted was a nice, relaxing bath. He was in pain, the adventures he had been having as of late was nothing compared to his expeditions in the Fade. He couldn’t believe he was able to keep up with his companions. He had felt silly accepting their small quest this afternoon, but he had been having a very hard time telling his fearless and charismatic leader no. The younger man certainly was learning how to wrap Emmrich around his pinky finger. Emmrich was doing his best to resist.

Leo was dashing and handsome, very easy to get along with and they did share a few interests, but he was much younger than Emmrich. As Emmrich had introduced the word ‘couple’ to their relationship, Leo expressed warning that he had never had a romantic relationship before. The Crow had always separated emotions from sex, but had promised Emmrich that his feelings for the necromancer went well beyond lust. Leo offered that the couple not have sex until Emmrich was more comfortable. That did not last long.

Not two weeks ago during a small detour in Arlathan Forest, Leo and Emmrich found themselves absolutely incapable of keeping their hands off each other. Emmrich found, what he had thought, was a secluded tree. In the middle of terribly rushed sex, the couple had been found by poor Davrin.

Even though Emmrich initiated sex with Leo, he was still terribly nervous that that might be all the younger man wanted. Despite the sweet nothings whispered in his ear, the private kisses, and Leo’s constant vie for Emmrich’s attention.

Emmrich knocked on the door to the washroom. He had seen Davrin and Harding in the kitchen, Neve and Taash were chatting in the library, so he was more than confident he would be able to get in a bath without bothering anyone’s schedule. Bellara was always quite shy about her hygiene and bathed when she knew everyone was asleep. Lucanis was about the same.

“Come in.” A muffled voice called, a very deep voice. Leo was in the washroom. Emmrich sighed, hoping that Leo was just finishing up, so he pushed the large door open.

“I’m sorry, Rook, I was hoping for a bath. I didn't mean to disturb you-“ he began and stopped when he saw Leo’s current state.

Leo was only in a towel that was wrapped around his hips. His face was clear of his usual makeup, and his hair was down from its usual topknot. It was wet and Leo was rubbing his scalp. He turned to look at Emmrich and Emmrich had to peel his eyes from Leo’s chest and broad shoulders to look at the large bathtub. The tattoos on his chest, back and arms were on full display. Every single one was a dark teal, each a different, large snake. Although they had had sex, neither one had seen the other one naked before. Emmrich wasn’t exactly proud of his lack of chivalry during those nights.

“You couldn’t disturb me if you tried,” Leo said with a grin. Emmrich smiled, Leo’s voice was so deep, and his Ativan accent was so charming. Emmrich had wanted a peaceful bath to overcome these temptations, but he found himself in a worse situation. Or a better one, if he’d allow himself to be reckless. “You know I could never pass up an opportunity to get you alone,” he said with a little wink and returned his focus to the mirror and his hair. Emmrich turned bright red.

He couldn't have this conversation with Leo right now, in the washroom, while Leo was half-naked. More than half-naked.

“I’ll come back when you’ve finished,” Emmrich decided was his winning response and Leo looked back at him and frowned, lowering his hands from his scalp. His hair was thicker than Emmrich realized.

“Woah, woah, Emm, I’m sorry, did I make you uncomfortable?” Leo asked, worry distinct in his voice. “I’m sorry, I figured you wouldn’t mind. Ah, I’m no good at all of this,” he said and sighed and looked around the washroom for something, any clothing he could pull on.

“Oh on the contrary, my dear. You could never make me feel uncomfortable. It is I that walked in while you were…” Emmrich explained and waved his hand at Leo and sighed. “I feel like an old letcher walking in on you,” he admitted, which was the truth. That was how he felt. Leo’s face softened and he stopped looking around for his trousers and walked closer to Emmrich.

“First of all, you cannot letch someone you have been inside of.”

“Rook, please.” Emmrich scoffed at Leo’s crass phrasing.

“Secondly, I never did ask you. How old do you think I am? Because that’s not the first time I’ve heard you say something like that about yourself. About us.”

Us. Emmrich felt sick. What did Leo think of Emmrich? Did he ever think of him when Emmrich was not around as Emmrich did with him? He knew that Leo liked him, but what was Leo’s perspective of their relationship? He felt his stomach flip at the very thought. Emmrich blinked a few times and took in a deep inhale.

“That is quite the hurdle. Regardless of what age you might be, I know there is quite the gap and your youth should not be wasted on flirting with-”

“How old do you think I am?” Leo asked again and got closer. He smelled like peppermint.

“Twenty-five?” Emmrich asked and Leo lifted an eyebrow.

“You think I am twenty-five?” Leo asked and Emmrich closed his eyes, embarrassed. His stomach dropped, assuming he had over shot that guess. Then Leo laughed, loudly. He had such a loud, booming laugh that would usually always work to make Emmrich at least smile. But Emmrich’s insides were squirming with anxiety. “I’m thirty-six, you flirt,” he said and Emmrich opened his eyes, seeing Leo looking back at him with a grin on his face. “Thirty-seven in Solace, so thank you very much for that.”

“You nearly gave me a heart attack,” Emmrich scolded playfully and Leo chuckled, reaching for Emmrich’s hand.

“Ten years is not that much of an age gap, you need to not worry,” he said and lifted Emmrich’s hand and kissed his knuckles delicately. Emmrich was so distracted with such a tender, intimate approach that he barely had the ability to register Leo’s math. Emmrich looked down at Leo adoringly.

“Oh my dear, you could melt the snow caps of the Mont-de-Glace in Orlais,” he said and Leo chuckled and freed Emmrich from his touch. Emmrich glanced down at his hand. The math hit him. “Did you say ‘ten years’?” Leo walked back to the sink, assuming the decision had been made.

“Yes.”

“Do you think I’m in my forties?”

Leo looked at Emmrich and raised an eyebrow once more. Emmrich’s own shot up in shock. Is that what Leo thought? Emmrich cursed in his own head and chuckled, though he was upset. He always assumed he had looked his age. Now what would Leo think? Emmrich had left his forties some years ago.

“I am fifty-six years old, my dear,” he said, feeling his palms get hot. A basic understanding between a couple was knowing each other’s age. However, it hurt to be honest. Leo blinked and Emmrich looked down for a second. He could feel his own heart thumping. Here it was, the inevitable.

“No, there’s no way. Maker, I hope I look half as good as you when I’m in my fifties. I know I won’t have half of my hair, anyway,” Leo said and looked back at his reflection. “I am experimenting with this scalp oil, just in case I don’t get as lucky as you.”

That was it. A compliment and then a change of topic to a hair tonic. Emmrich stared at the younger man in disbelief. Truly, his darling Rook would be changing his mind about everything, but that was not the energy he was seeing. Leo looked over at him and smirked.

“Now, please don’t tell me you’re too shy to run a bath with me still in here, professor,” he said, almost purring as he said that last word. Emmrich was quick to correct his companions when they addressed him formally. However, Leo was not being formal when he used ‘professor’ in his speech. It made the tips of Emmrich’s ear hot red. But he cleared his throat and shook his head.

“No, no, just polite, but since you insist,” he said and walked over to the large bath.

“Feel free to use any of my soaps and oils, I’d value your opinion on them. I made them all myself,” Leo said and Emmrich’s eyes wandered along the shelf above the bathtub. Six different bottles of different shapes and colors sat there that Emmrich did not recognize. He looked at a deep purple one and tilted his head.

“Ah…not that one, it’s uhm,” Leo walked over and leaned over Emmrich to grab the purple bottle. Emmrich tensed up when he felt Leo’s bare chest against his back. The instant, sudden closeness made his heart beat quickly and his palms heat up. The last time he had felt like this was years ago. He was convinced Leo, being so bold in his actions, did not feel the same. “That one I’m still experimenting with,” he said and lingered for a moment after grabbing the glass bottle. He stood up and Emmrich felt himself breathe again. “Though, no pressure, whatever it is that you use…smells wonderful,” he said and Emmrich swallowed hard.

Emmrich reached over and turned on the tap for the hot water.

“Rook, we must talk,” he blurted out and stood up straight. Leo looked back at him and frowned. Emmrich frowned back at him. He regretted saying that almost immediately. This was absolutely not the time or place to have this conversation.

“About soap?” Leo tried a little joke and Emmrich sighed through his nose.

“Our age gap is still-”

“Emmrich, are you uncomfortable with our age gap?” Leo asked him. Emmrich blinked at him for a moment and shook his head.

“No, no, I’m not, I only fear that between the age gap and your…experience with romance that I just…” Emmrich sighed, very frustrated with himself that he blurted it out. He was not composed, and poor Leo was undressed and damp from a bath. Leo placed the bottle down by the sink.

“Emmrich, I understand me flirting with you might seem…playful, considering my nature, my past. But I would not have let it get this far if I didn’t mean it,” he began and took Emmrich’s hands once he got close enough. Emmrich sighed. “I’m not letting everything between us end because of just a number.”

“It is much bigger than just a number, my darling,” Emmrich said and Leo’s chest rose and fell with an irritated breath. “You have a long life ahead of you, Rook. I can’t have you waste it with me.”

“Waste it? Waste it? Emmrich…mi vida, every second I spend with you is…I crave you…every-” Leo was getting frustrated and let go of his lover’s hands. He rubbed his face and Emmrich watched him carefully, but wouldn’t speak. He did not wish to irritate Leo further. “If you no longer wish to be with me, tell me that, Emmrich,” Leo began and Emmrich felt his throat tighten.

“That is not how I feel,” he responded softly.

“Then you do not get to tell me how I feel, you hear me?” Leo snapped and Emmrich’s eyebrows shot up. Leo had his hands on his almost bare hips and Emmrich sighed. The older man nodded. “Listen, Emmrich, Emm, mi vida…I might be younger and less experienced, but I can hear my heart well enough. I have never, ever felt this way about another person in my life. I cannot let you go,” he said and Emmrich took a bold step towards Leo, filling in the gap between them. He was being stubborn, and it would take a long time for Emmrich to be convinced. His ego could not be fed so easily.

“My darling, I apologize. It is you who must continue to be patient with me.” Leo made eye contact with him and frowned.

“Whatever it is that you need, I’m the one who is going to give it to you,” Leo said and placed his hands on Emmrich’s cheeks. Emmrich closed his eyes at the warm touch. Leo was always terribly warm, and it was a welcome feeling, especially at night when they found each other. Emmrich leaned down, pressing his forehead against Leo’s. “You are still happy to be with me, yes?” Leo asked and Emmrich chuckled.

“Happy is such a simple word for all of these complex emotions and thoughts you stir in me, but yes, yes I am very happy,” Emmrich answered and leaned down further to kiss Leo. Damn it. Leo kissed him back, eagerly. If there was a more potent potion for Emmrich’s ego than being kissed by Leo, he had never heard of it. The way Leo held onto him, the way he kissed with such passion, the little sounds that escaped his lips. Emmrich could attest his conceit with a kiss from his paramour. His partner, he supposed.

“How about,” Leo whispered, his sweet, passionate kisses turning into playful pecks. “I get in that bath with you and show you exactly how to use all of my soaps, hm?” He asked, his voice low. Emmrich could have melted. This was not at all what Emmrich had planned for his bath. He wanted to think about his relationship with Leo, not step further into it.

Emmrich brought himself to his senses and lifted his face a little. Leo was looking at him with such a dreamy little look, a soft smile and happy eyes. Emmrich would do anything for Leo, what had he been thinking? The joy the other man gave him on a daily basis, how could he deny himself or Leo this joy?

“We can’t…” Emmrich said, blood rushing to his cheeks as he thought of what to say. Leo had a wicked little grin on his face.

“We won’t, Davrin might kill me if he walks into that again,” Leo said and Emmrich snorted. Poor Davrin, that man had walked in on the couple getting physical a few times. “No, no, just a relaxing bath between two men who are falling for each other, completely innocent,” he continued, playing with Emmrich’s collar. Emmrich laughed loudly. “And not to remove the romantic atmosphere, but have you ever tried to have sex in a bathtub?” Leo asked with a grimace and Emmrich kept laughing.

“Yes, I think every poor soul has read the wrong romance novel and tried that particular experiment in their youth,” he said happily. Leo grinned at him.

“Good, I am glad we both agree on that, no no…I have nothing but tender pleasure in mind for you, professor. You fought very good today, you deserve to relax those muscles properly,” he continued and Emmrich licked his lips. Their little pact for no intimacy was feeling more like a challenge the more Leo spoke. Leo’s voice was so low, and his accent and horrible grammar were doing a number on Emmrich’s mind.

“‘Well’, not ‘good’,” Emmrich teased and Leo rolled his eyes. Brat.

“You want a massage or not, hm?” He asked and unbuttoned Emmrich’s collar. Emmrich’s breathing hitched slightly. When was the last time another person undressed him? Years ago, and it hadn’t been this thrilling. Although Emmrich and Leo had had sex, technically, neither of them had seen the other naked. Not his greatest adventure; having their first time be against a tree in Arlathan Forest when they assumed their companions were all asleep and out of earshot. Not the shining example of gentlemanly chivalry Emmrich was so proud of in himself.

“You know my dear, you might be the death of me,” Emmrich whispered back, his voice so direct, and although low, each word was spoken so carefully. Leo’s eyes flashed and he grinned.

“Tienes unos ojos preciosos,” Leo whispered, reaching up to kiss Emmrich once more. Emmrich could have melted into a puddle.

At the beginning of their relationship, Emmrich had tried to get the upper hand. He attempted to be the more dominant force in the relationship, and Leo would give him that. But most times Leo would say something absolutely insane and it would throw Emmrich off guard. It was hard to shock Emmrich, he had experienced a lot in his life. He’d never experienced anyone like Leo. Leo usually said some bold phrases in normal Trade Tongue, but the Antivan would absolutely do Emmrich every single time. Who could resist that language?

Emmrich kissed his rogue back as Leo very easily unbuttoned his shirt and top vest. Nimble fingers, Leo had. Emmrich shuffled out of his clothing quickly and placed his hands on Leo’s face to keep him close, but Leo pulled away. Emmrich’s eyes took a moment to focus and Leo’s were wandering. Emmrich had a decent conceit of himself, but being ogled by a younger man did make him shrink a little.

Leo reached over to Emmrich’s chest, his fingers gently tracing Emmrich’s many gold necklaces and chains around his neck. Emmrich kept his eyes on Leo’s face. He looked dreamy, still. Leo looked a little older without his makeup on, a little more pale, his eyes had dark, purple circles around them. Leo was fixated on Emmrich’s chest, the black and silver hair, his faint tattoos from his youth.

“Hmmm…” Leo’s fingers drew delicately down Emmrich’s chest to his navel and Leo smiled. “I need to bring you shopping in Treviso, you need to show this hair off a little,” Leo said and Emmrich smiled.

“Those days are long gone, my dear,” Leo looked up at Emmrich, a dramatic look of confusion. Emmrich chuckled at such a pulled face.

“You are wrong about that, mi vida,” he said and dipped his head down and gently kissed down Emmrich’s jaw and throat. Emmrich’s hands held Leo’s bare arms as he closed his eyes. Emmrich sighed as Leo continued to kiss him and untie the scarlet belt around his waist. Emmrich felt a natural heat radiate through his body. Damn it.

“Slow, my dear,” Emmrich whispered with every fiber of his being. Leo backed up a little, but pulled a comical pout.

Leo removed Emmrich’s belt and Emmrich slipped out of his boots. Emmrich slowly removed the leather glove on his right hand, rings and all. Very quickly, with muscle memory, he returned the rings to his bare fingers. Leo took his hand, inspecting it before dipping down and kissing the knuckles gently.

“My favorite hand in all of Thedas,” Leo said softly and Emmrich placed that hand on Leo’s chin. The older man shook his head and Leo smirked. “Because it heals me on the battlefield, what did you think I meant by that? Hmm? You pervert,” he said and Emmrich rolled his eyes, but his smile never faded.

“You astound me, Rook,” Emmrich said softly and Leo’s smile only grew. Leo glanced over Emmrich's shoulder to the rising water in the bath and then looked back at those green eyes.

“You know, Emmrich, I uhm…to your point earlier, I do apologize,” Leo began and Emmrich tilted his head. “For making you feel like I was only in this with you for sex or something shallow. I know I can be…” Leo sighed and Emmrich’s face softened a little bit. “Very physical.” Emmrich couldn’t help his snort. Yes, Leo was a very physical man. Emmrich knew he wasn’t an unattractive man, but it still boosted his ego when a younger man found him physically desirable.

“I told you a few nights ago, I am new to this so it is the only way I know how to…express myself. But Emmrich you…you are so much more than a bed partner to me, I want you to know that. You are my true companion,” Emmrich’s eyebrows shot up at Leo’s little admission. His heart flipped at the honesty. Leo’s voice wavered on worried, he meant what he was saying.

“Oh Rook, my darling, you have no idea the relief that gives me. I was worried when you admitted so frankly to me that you had never had a romantic relationship before.” Emmrich grabbed both of Leo’s hands in his. Leo smiled up at his necromancer.

“I don’t know much about all of this, but I do know that I cannot stop thinking about you, Emm,” Leo continued and kissed Emmrich’s knuckles again. “Having you by my side out there, knowing you have my back on the field, listening to you yammer about ethoteric whatever’s with Bellara-“ Emmrich laughed loudly. He wouldn’t correct Leo this time on how to pronounce esoteric. “You are my every comfort as of late, I fear I may become dependent on you,” he continued and Emmrich just watched him as he kissed the rings on Emmrich’s fingers.

“I can think of much worse things to be dependent on,” Emmrich said in such a soft voice and Leo smiled up at him. He let Emmrich’s hands free and reached up for a sweet kiss.

“I cannot think of anything better to be so dependent on,” he added and Emmrich smiled. He was truly delighted to hear Leo not only admit honest feelings for him, but also come to an understanding on why Emmrich was wary. In all of his years there was nothing that solidified a relationship better than honesty and communication. He was very confident that Leo would be honest with him. That’s all that mattered for now.

“Now, get those trousers off, let me thank you for saving my ass twice today,” Leo said, playing with the hem of Emmrich’s trousers. Emmrich went bright red and felt a wave of warmth wash over him. Emmrich untied his trousers and let them drop. Leo’s eyes dropped and he smirked. Perfectly pressed grey smalls, linen. Leo looked back up at him and Emmrich felt Leo’s fingers dance on the laces of his underpants. Emmrich felt goosebumps grow over his body and a shiver ran down his spine.

”Behave,” Emmrich was brave enough to say and Leo snickered. Emmrich took over removing his underclothes. Leo removed his towel and let it drop to the floor. Emmrich felt idiotic glancing down and feeling shy about ogling Leo’s body. Leo was gorgeous, and Leo was more than willing to share his body with Emmrich, clearly. “You have a lot of tattoos, my dear,” Emmrich said and reached out to Leo’s hip. “All snakes, except for this one,” he said and touched Leo’s skin. A melting crown in black, not the teal that his other tattoos were in. Leo’s eyes followed Emmrich’s fingers and he smirked.

”House de Riva, king’s bastards,” Leo said and Emmrich’s eyes lit up and looked into Leo’s eyes.

”Are you the son of the king of Antiva?” Emmrich asked and Leo shook his head.

”No, son of the brother of the king, Duke Leonardo,” Leo said and Emmrich tilted his head gently. “Don’t worry, I’m no prince. You don’t have to hate me,” he said playfully. Emmrich was almost proud of his disdain of the Nevarran nobility. Leo could only assume that hatred transferred to all noble houses across Thedas. But Leo was not in line for any titles. He had enough legitimate siblings.

Emmrich felt Leo’s eyes on his body as he rolled off the last bit of fabric from his body. Leo’s brown eyes dropped to take all of Emmrich in and Emmrich felt himself blush. He turned a little to look at the bath and was very happy to turn the tap off. Leo moved behind him and slipped into the bath.

“You know, and luxurious as my life was at Villa de Riva, two baths in one hour? I think that might be a first,” he said and Emmrich smiled, watching Leo settle against the bath. Emmrich climbed into the large stone bath and hissed a little. It was incredibly hot. “Too hot for you professor?” Leo asked and Emmrich crouched himself down into the water. The water level got dangerously high and Emmrich would be stubborn about the heat. Leo liked the heat, of course he did.

“How you can enjoy it, I’m not entirely sure,” Emmrich said and Leo chuckled.

“Heat fuels me, that’s why I adore you so much,” he said and Emmrich sighed. That alluring flirt would never cease to stop Emmrich in his tracks. He sat properly in the bath and faced the taps, his back to Leo.

“Heat isn’t exactly how I would self-describe, I’ve always been thought of as having a rather brumal temperature,” he said and as the word left his lips, he felt a shiver run down his spine as he felt Leo’s wet fingertips on his bare skin. He closed his eyes, relieved that Leo couldn’t see his face. When was the last time a person had touched him? A handshake, a demure kiss on the cheek and a formal welcome, that was all Emmrich had experienced for years. He assumed as he began an exclusive relationship with Leo, they would go slow, touches and kisses would be minimal, considering the state of the world. But the moment he revealed any skin, Leo’s fingers were on him. Leo was comfort and warmth, he was heat.

“I don’t know this ‘brumal’, but you, my Emmrich, you are my only source of heat as of late,” Leo said, sitting up a bit. Emmrich could hear him close in his right ear. Leo lingered for a moment and then leaned to his right to take the smallest bottle from the bunch. It had a golden hue to it.

“You know, you should really write poetry,” Emmrich said and Leo laughed. He could hear the sound of oil being rubbed between Leo’s hands.

“I think my talents better suit one of Bellara’s smut books,” Leo said and Emmrich chuckled. “What book are you all reading this month, hm? Dashing princess? A servant girl who is secretly the chosen and the only one who could save the world from the kingdom of trolls?” Leo asked and Emmrich chuckled.

”No no, ‘The Hallowed Halls’ is an espionage book. Though I am still absolutely offended by the depiction therein of the undead that I-“ Emmrich whimpered. Gently, with tenderness, Leo’s hands glided over Emmrich’s bare skin. The oil against him made a slick sound. Leo’s hands were large and calloused from years of bow work. His touch, though gentle, was purposeful. The tips of his fingers had a certain pressure to them, and Emmrich felt a spark in his muscles.

“Oh,” he muttered and he heard Leo release a low chuckle. Leo spread his hands and fingers and ran them up to Emmrich’s shoulders and down the length of his arms.

“I like that when we are sitting, you aren’t much taller than me,” Leo said softly and Emmrich closed his eyes. “I may be taller than you here, eh?”

”Because you have an incredibly long torso,” Emmrich stated and he felt Leo’s sweeping movements with his hands falter.

”Ugh, yes I know, don’t remind me, my tailor always does,” he muttered and the corner of Emmrich’s mouth perked up. “Alright, now this, this oil is the first wash I do. Oil and oil attract, so I do this before soap, especially after a hard fight. Gets all the sweat off before I actually can get to my skin.”

Emmrich could hear Leo talk, explain what the oil was, but his concentration was elsewhere. The pads on Leo’s thumbs pressed with such tender and purposeful care. Leo had always proven to Emmrich how nimble he could be, despite his broad size. As a man very well versed in human anatomy, Emmrich was always in top physical form. He rarely got stiff, and knew how to use his body properly. The need for a therapeutic massage was hardly called for in Emmich’s case. He was not tense, he was not tight.

However, Leo managed to touch him with such tender care, he felt relaxed. He had been so stressed about the very situation he was currently in. He wanted a bath to relax and think. The plan had half worked.

“The oil is from a tree nut found only in southern Orlais. It’s not the most pleasant smell in the world, so I use lemon grass…” Leo continued on about the oil as his hands focused on the back of Emmrich’s neck. Emmrich felt as if he were meditating. He concentrated on his breathing, Leo’s low voice and most importantly, the feeling of Leo’s fingers massaging under his occipital bone.

He let out an involuntary sigh and Leo stopped speaking for a moment. The younger man applied pressure with his knuckles and slid them down the side of Emmrich’s neck to his trapezius muscles and Emmrich let out another sigh.

“Is this alright?” Leo whispered and Emmrich’s eyes fluttered open. He let out a little laugh and Leo kept his hands on Emmrich, but stopped moving.

“Is this alright? Darling you have no idea the last time I was ever…” Emmrich scoffed, catching himself before he brought the mood down. “Oh…what I mean to say is this is divine, Rook. This is unexpected but most, most welcomed. You’ll find me spoiled, I’m afraid.” Leo chuckled and gave Emmrich’s shoulders a little rub.

“Well, if that is not one of the greatest compliments I’ve ever received I’m a donkey,” Leo said and Emmrich grinned.

“Oh Rook…”

“No, that means a lot, actually Emmrich. I uhm…” Leo’s tone shifted. Was it nerves? Was it just discomfort? Emmrich opened his eyes once more and turned his head. The heat from the bath was giving Leo’s hair a little curl. “I just…maybe it’s selfish, but I want to just make you happy. And be what it is that makes you happy.” Emmrich almost turned fully in the bath. Leo almost looked as though he was ashamed of his admission, but Emmrich’s heart was in his throat.

“Darling, there is nothing less selfish,” Emmrich said softly. He reached up and placed a wet hand on Leo’s cheek and Leo smiled.

“Well, the really devious part is that I get angry when other people make you happy,” Leo said playfully, and Emmrich laughed though he had a feeling Leo wasn’t exactly being sarcastic.

“You do know how to make an old man feel special,” Emmrich said and Leo’s face dropped into a scowl.

“Hey! No no no, we don’t do that. Don’t talk shit about mi vida, you hear me? I’ll fight you,” he said and Emmrich laughed loudly. Leo nudged Emmrich to turn back around and Emmrich called his silent orders. “Talk about the love of my life like that…” Emmrich’s cheeks burned hot at that turn of phrase.

“I…yes…I uhm..” Emmrich stammered. He knew Leo at time had a small language barrier. He had a heavy accent and sometimes needed help to get out his words properly. Emmrich hoped that little comment was simply that, a mistranslation. Surely Leo didn’t mean to casually confess love to Emmrich. No. Leo’s hands returned to Emmrich’s back.

“I mean it,” Leo said softly and Emmrich felt his throat close slightly. “No one gets to put you down like this, not even you, you hear me?” Leo asked and Emmrich shivered when he felt the Antivan’s lips kiss just behind his ear. Emmrich felt himself become very quickly overstimulated, overwhelmed with Leo’s touch, his voice, Emmrich’s own emotions, his fears.

“Are you alright mi alma?” Leo asked after a moment. Emmrich’s body had tensed considerably.

“Rook, is that what you think of me?” Emmrich asked after a quick breath.

“Think of you how?” Leo continued to stroke Emmrich’s arms. The pressure was gone, but the tenderness was ever present in his touch.

“You just called me ‘the love of your life’. I humbly request you do not call me that unless you mean it.” Emmrich felt small. He knew Leo had misspoken. There was no way in Emmrich’s mind his darling Rook loved him.

“I do mean it. Emmrich, I do mean it,” Leo said and Emmrich turned his body once more.

An hour ago he had been planning on telling Leo they needed to end their affair.

“People come in three kinds, family, enemies, and contracts.” Emmrich blinked a few times. “I have little family, and those in my family, I love.”

“Do you see me as family, Leo?” Emmrich asked and Leo’s face softened. He had a sweet smile under all of that charm.

“Of course I do. Emmrich, te amo,” Leo whispered and Emmrich’s green eyes drifted to Leo’s lips for a moment. He looked back at Leo’s brown eyes. Leo was looking right back at him and Emmrich slowly shook his head.

“What have I done in my life to be gifted such tender devotion from you? You of all people?” Emmrich asked and Leo gave him no choice. Leo tilted his chin and kissed Emmrich sweetly. Such a delicate kiss to set off electricity in Emmrich’s heart, stomach and head.

“I love you,” Leo whispered, translating himself, so Emmrich had no more confusion.

“I love you too, my dearest,” Emmrich said and returned Leo’s kiss.

As lovely as the kiss and moment may have been, Emmrich’s position wasn’t entirely comfortable. He faced back away from Leo and Emmrich felt Leo’s arms wrap around and slowly pull him closer. His body submerged into the water more as he rested against Leo’s chest, the back of his head in the crook of Leo’s neck. Leo held him close and kissed his temples and Emmrich felt much warmer in Leo’s embrace than the bath had made him feel.

“I am very glad you came in for a bath,” Leo whispered, his lips moving against Emmrich’s skin as he refused to move away. Emmrich closed his eyes once more.

“If the mood suits you, we should move this to your bedroom,” Emmrich said and Leo lifted his head quickly.

“Really?” Emmrich turned his head up to see a happy Leo. Emmrich grinned and lifted a hand to Leo’s cheek once more. “You said not in the Lighthouse,” Leo said, a whisper, but clearly very excited.

“I also told myself not to fall in love with the handsome assassin from Antiva, yet here we are.”

[msmk11]

Lucy Gray Baird x gn!reader

CW: angst, unrequited pining

A/n: wrote this ages ago but i finished it now cuz this is me- pining after someone who’s talking to a man. This has happened before. I only like emotionally unavailable people. But I love lucy gray sm anyways so pls enjoy

Summary: you want Lucy Gray, but her eyes have been caught by someone else

“Maude Ivory said I’d find you here.”

“She promised she’d keep it a secret if I gave her my ration of cake tonight,” you sigh, eyes never leaving the sprawling lake lapping against the rocky shore.

You feel Lucy Gray sit next to you, “she’s happier with two pieces than one, which is why she accepted my bribe too.”

An amused huff escapes you as you fiddle with the grass beneath your hands, “so much for her word.”

The brunette hums amusedly, “I reckon when I was her age I would’ve valued the sweet temptation of cake over the honor of my word.”

You nod, pulling strands of dandelions from the earth and twisting them slowly into a braid. The work is easy and familiar but distracts you from the presence of the sweet soul next to you.

“Are you ever going to look at me the same again?”

Her voice is so soft, but so full of anxiety, hesitance, and suffering.

“You know it wasn’t my choice…. Killing those children. I- I was just trying to survive and to-“

“To help Coriolanus win his prize….I know.”

You look at Lucy Gray and hope your heart isn’t betrayed in your eyes, “I’m not mad at you for what you did in the games. I’m not disgusted nor do I hate you. You mistake me entirely.”

Her chocolate brown eyes scan your face, searching for the answer to your distance…. To your recent indifference.

“Sweetheart, please tell me what’s wrong. What I’ve done, so I can fix this. You’re my dearest friend, and I hate that you feel so distant.”

Friend. Friend friend friend friend friend.

You look away again, “you’ve done nothing wrong Lucy Gray, swear.”

“Well something’s different,” she huffs softly.

Her hand reaches out and brushes over your jawline, “will you look at me?”

You shake your head.

“Please.”

You can never say no to the songbird, the captor of your heart. Your eyes meet her soft brown ones and your heart flutters.

“Everything is different and yet nothing has changed.”

“Well, sweetheart, that certainly clears things up,” she drawls, her dark brows furrowing unimpressed.

“I don’t view you any different. I’m no different than before. But things… they’re different for you. You’re different…. You’re more skittish now, and always a little distant, like your head is somewhere else. With someone else.”

Lucy Gray blushes softly and your heart aches. You wish you were the cause of such a pretty picture, rather than that man. That boy. From the Capitol. Snow. You don’t really know what she sees in him. But, you suppose, danger brings people together in strange ways. Tears them apart too.

“I invited Coriolanus to join us here tomorrow.”

“I heard,” you answer hoarsely.

She looks at you intently, “Do you not like him?”

“I- it’s not that. I’m just protective of my… friends.”

“You know I don’t trust just anyone,” Lucy Gray says softly, eyes trying to catch yours, “I promise he’s trustworthy.”

A lump catches in your throat, one the size of a rock. You nod, “Okay, I trust you.”

Her pink lips smile softly at you and she presses a kiss to your hairline, “thank you for understanding. And know you can talk to me about anything.”

If only she were right.

[gaily-daily-musings]

Read a fic once based on this old fairy tale called Bearskin. It was about a man making a deal with the devil. For 7 Years he could not bathe or groom himself. At the end if he succeeded he would be rich beyond his wildest dreams. It took place in colonial times but I'm changing it to modern times because of reasons. (“Modern” as in sometime in the last 30 years or something idk)

-

The devil must be bored if he's talking to him, Obi-Wan surmised. He's injured and currently laying on the side of the dirt road. He'd been drinking heavily. The war had torn England apart. But he'd remained steady in the faith that at least he could come home to Satine. They were engaged to be married and had wanted to wait until after the war.

He came home to a funeral. She'd died a fortnight before he arrived. Her parents offered him condolences and a place to stay. He declined.

He'd meant to drink himself to death. It seemed he was on the right path if the figure in front of him is to be believed.

The devil appeared as a frail old man but there was a secret delight in his eyes. A joy found from the suffering of others. Perhaps Obi-Wan is closer to death's door than he thinks if he's able to recognize Satan in disguise. That or he's gone insane.

“Have you come to take me? I would have thought I'd be bound for elsewhere.”

The old devil chuckles. “You are, but not quite yet. In the meantime, I can offer you a deal.”

It's so cliche. Obi-Wan snorts. “I don't do deals with strangers. Or the devil.”

“You may call me Palpatine.” The old man croaks. “Save yourself from death and be rewarded greatly in earthly pleasures.”

Obi-Wan is a man of god. Or he was, anyway. The war took much from him. He has nothing and no one. So with nothing to lose, he decides to listen.

“For seven years you must not bathe nor groom yourself. You cannot change your clothing or tell anyone else the reason why. If you do, I will claim your soul for hell. But if you succeed, I will give you riches untold. You will never want for anything ever again so long as you live.”

Obi-Wan hums. The pain on his side thrums. The bar fight from earlier had not gone in his favor.

“Don't worry, I shall even the odds for you.” The devil produces a furred cloak. It looks to be made from a large animal. A bear most likely. “Put this on and wear it always. When you reach into the pocket you will take out a handful of gold. It will never run out.”

Obi-Wan looks at the cloak outstretched towards him. Infinite money would definitely make things easier on his journey.

He laughs then, low and joyless. The devil had hit him exactly where it hurt. He'd always been rather vain about his appearance. Being unable to maintain his personal hygiene was certainly quite the tailored test of strength.

Maybe it's the alcohol in his system muddling his higher thoughts, but he takes the cloak.

“Deal.”

-

The first year isn't necessarily horrible. In fact it's quite good. Not being able to cut his hair or nails or trim his growing beard grated on him, but it's a minor inconvenience.

That being said, it was nothing compared to the dirt beginning to cake onto his skin. He itches for soap but never gives in to the temptation. He was good at self discipline. The devil had misjudged him. He'd win this easily.

He stays at luxurious resorts dining on king's meals. He travels the country. Sometimes in taxis, sometimes on foot. The money in his pocket ensured he always had food and a place to stay.

The second year gets a little harder. He's begun to smell. Obi-Wan has to dig into his pockets twice now to get a room rather than just the once. The nicer 5 star hotels start to turn him away, pointing him to a local establishment.

He begins to braid his hair, not knowing what else to do with it. He wonders just how long it is going to get and when he will have to start tucking it into his pants or wrapping his long beard over his shoulder. For now though, it is bearable.

By the time of his fourth year, his skin has darkened so much he no longer appears English at first glance. Soot and mud cling to his hair and clothing. It starts to feel like a second skin. An outer layer stitched into him. The bearskin cloak wraps around him like it is a part of him. He looks more like an animal than anything else now.

It is near the end of this particular year that he travels to America. He'd never been before but wondered about going often. He has to bribe a shipyard captain to let him stow away on a barge. An airplane would never have let him on even with proper credentials and an entire truckload of gold.

The journey is long and hard but he makes it in one piece. He is grateful for the rain on the way there. He is not allowed to clean himself, but natural rainfall is unavoidable and thus a loophole. He loves to be caught in it. Standing in it on purpose would count as bathing he thinks, so he never does so if there's shelter around. But to be out in the open and nowhere to go? It was wonderful. A tiny respite from the horror of his reality.

America is not as beautiful as England in his opinion. But it isn't bad either.

9 times out of 10 a taxi driver or Uber will refuse him service, so Obi-Wan opts to walk most places nowadays. He doesn't mind so much.

He travels through town after town. They seem to get smaller with each one he passes.

One night Obi-Wan finds himself a bit cold and tries to find warm lodging. The only hotel in town refuses him business even with the money he presents. Perhaps they thought the coins were fake. He didn't blame them. Who would believe a homeless looking beggar to have a pocket full of gold?

He settles out back in the alleyway. He'd bought a sleeping bag a long while ago for this exact purpose. Just as he's zipping himself up he hears some men yelling. He sits up and gets out of the bag. He peers around the corner of the hotel.

Two men were pounding on the door to one of the rooms.

“We know you're in there Jinn! Give us the fucking money!”

The men are holding guns. They looked serious. Obi-Wan's heart chills.

A man's voice–Jinn he assumes–calls out. “I can get it tomorrow! I already told your boss!”

“Yeah well the boss changed his mind! He wants it now! Open the fuck up!”

Obi-Wan's feet move before he realizes it. War had taught him to not fear death. He's used to charging into the fray.

He approaches cautiously but deliberately. One of the men, brown haired, jumps back and holds the gun up.

“Who the fuck are you?!”

“Christ Jack, It's just a hobo calm down.”

Jack glares back at Obi-Wan. “Do I look like I have a handout? Get lost!”

Obi-Wan teaches into his pocket and holds out the gold coins. “I have money. I'll pay what Jinn owes.”

“The fuck?”

Suspiciously, with the gun still trained on him, Jack moves closer. He takes one of the coins and holds it up.

“Holy shit these are real!?”

“What?”

The other man takes a coin as well and bites into it. His eyes go wide.

“Is this enough to cover the debt?” Obi-Wan asks.

The two look at each other.

“Uh, yeah?”

Obi-Wan dumps the gold into Jack's hands. Confused, the two men leave presumably back to their boss. Obi-Wan should probably go too. He doesn't want to stick around if a mobster catches wind that some homeless man wandering town is loaded. No telling what they'd do if they caught him.

Just as he's turning to go pack up his sleeping bag, the door to the room opens. An older man steps out. His hair is long and gray. He looked tired. There are bags under his eyes like he'd been awake and worried for days. Obi-Wan knows that look.

Jinn stares at him, taking in his state of dress. Obi-Wan knows what he looks like. More importantly what he smells like. His nose had long since stopped working, but from the reactions of others he knows it's nothing good.

It's the stench that gets people more than his dirtied appearance. The last hotel that had accepted his money and made him sleep in the janitor's closet. They'd set up a small cot and shoved it into the room. They'd probably burned the sheets afterwards.

Jinn scrunches up his nose in a familiar gesture. But then he braces himself and takes a step forward, “You…paid my debt?”

Obi-Wan doesn't really know what to do. He has never been in this situation before. “It was nothing.”

Truly it wasn't. There was far more money where that came from.

Jinn’s face falls in aching relief. He breathes out a shuddering breath. “I–Thank you, I–I don't know what to say. Thank you!”

He startles Obi-Wan by coming closer. No one had willingly entered his space two years. Jinn stretches out a hand. “You saved my life!”

Obi-Wan stares. For a moment he lifts his own on pure reflex. But then he looks at his own hand. At the filthy overgrown nails. The mud caked onto skin. He drops it. Jinn doesn't let it discourage him.

“How can I repay you?”

“Don't ever borrow money from loan sharks again?”

Jinn chuckles. “I won't. It'd been stupid of me in the first place. But I'd been a bit desperate at the time. I didn't want to lose the farm and I–” he shakes his head, trailing off. “Nevermind that. It doesn't matter.”

Obi-Wan furrows his brow. (Though it was more like one brow these days) “Lose the farm?”

The sadness on Jinn’s face returns. “It hasn't been doing well these past few years. The bank was going to foreclose on it and I just couldn't stand to lose it.”

Obi-Wan needs not even a second to make his decision. “How much do you need?”

Jinn gapes. “I couldn't possibly! You've already done so much!”

“I told you it's nothing truly. I have more than I need.”

Jinn looks hesitant still. From his perspective Obi-Wan needed the money far more than he did. Obi-Wan reaches into his pocket and pulls out another handful of gold.

“Here.”

Jinn scrambles to hold out his palms. Obi-Wan dumps the coins. Jinn blinks several times as if Obi-Wan and the gold will disappear at any moment.

“Don't think about it, just take it.”

Jinn cups the gold to his chest and nods. “Thank you.” He says again. Then, “Is there truly nothing I can do for you in turn?”

Obi-Wan is about to say no when he thinks for a moment. “A ride out of town would be nice.”

The sooner the better. He couldn't exactly change his appearance should the loan shark catch wind of him. He's easy to spot as it is.

Jinn nods vigorously. “Absolutely! Wherever you want to go!” Then he pauses. “Though could I at least persuade you to stay the night at my place? It's the least I can do. It's about an hour from here.”

Obi-Wan nods. A bed sounded lovely. Jinn smiles.

“I'm Qui-Gon Jinn by the way.”

“Ben.”

-

He dozes off in the car on the way there. Jinn drives with the windows down and puts up a new air freshener. Obi-Wan isn't offended.

They arrive well past midnight. Jinn quietly shows him to a guest room. He tells him to please keep it down as he had three children. Obi-Wan nods.

The bed is amazing. It's a rarity he gets a mattress as nice as this anymore. He snuggles in and tells himself not to feel guilty for ruining the blankets. He'll just pay for them tomorrow.

In the morning he smells breakfast coming from downstairs. He pokes his head outside. He can hear Qui-Gon's hearty laughter and unfamiliar voices. He walks down the stairs. He feels out of place and self conscious in this house. This was clearly a nice, warm home and he was an invader.

“Ben!” Qui-Gon says with a smile. It's a shocking sight to have one directed at him. “Come sit!”

Obi-Wan slowly moves closer. There are three kids of varying ages at the table. The eldest looks about 20. The girl with blue and white hair seemed 17. The young boy looked 14. He doesn't see the mother anywhere.

The youngest scrunches his nose and holds it. The girl hits him in the side with her elbow. But she stiffens as well when she inhales and makes a valiant effort to avoid doing the same.

“These are my kids: Anakin, Ahsoka, and Ferus. Kids, this is the man I was telling you about.”

“You?” Anakin folds his arms. “You're the guy that gave dad the money for the farm?” he squints skeptically.

“Yes. He is.” Qui-Gon says giving him a look. Clearly he'd briefed them on Obi-Wan's appearance and to be polite.

“Thank you for the room.”

“Please, it was the least I could do.”

“We have a shower too.”

“Anakin!” Qui-Gon hisses.

Anakin shrugs. “What? We do. Works well and everything.”

Despite himself Obi-Wan laughs. It nearly startles him. He hasn't done that in awhile.

“Thank you but no.” He takes a seat at the table.

Ferus scoots away.

“So, Ben, what do you do?” Anakin asks.

Qui-Gon sighs heavily.

“Nothing. I currently travel. I wanted to see America so I left England a few months ago.”

Anakin nods. “Yep, figured with the accent.”

Ahsoka has stopped eating. Unable to keep her food down. She seems to be silently gagging.

“I can just take my plate outside and finish if that's alright.”

“Nonsense!” Qui-Gon says. “You're my guest! You will eat at the table!”

“May I be excused?” Ferus asks.

“You may. But you have to start your chores.”

“Yes father.” Ferus takes his plate and dumps it in the sink. He runs upstairs. Ahsoka looks after him longingly. Obi-Wan resolves to eat quicker.

Obi-Wan clears his throat. “So what do you do, Qui-Gon?” He asks in polite conversation. Even if he didn't engage in it much anymore he still knew how to.

“Mostly run the farm. I have a stall at the local market on weekends. Ahsoka here makes the best homemade jam in three counties!”

Ahsoka blushes. “That was two years ago dad!”

“She won first place at the county fair! Here, try it on your biscuit!”

Obi-Wan takes a bite of the jam on his biscuit. Oh. That was really good. “This is delicious Ahsoka.”

She nods. A small smile on her face.

“Do you sell these too?”

“Yeah, Anakin made the label for the jar.”

He turns the jar around and sees the design. It was quite nice.

“Are you into graphic design?”

Anakin shakes his head. “I went to college for engineering.”

Went?

“He dropped out to come home and help take care of the farm.” Qui-Gon says with a frown. “I kept telling him we were fine.”

Anakin snorts. “The bank was three days away from foreclosing but sure. You were fine.”

The rest of breakfast goes well all things considered.

Anakin and Ahsoka go out to do chores. Obi-Wan asks if he can help. Qui-Gon says no he's done enough.

He wanders out to the horse stalls, curious as to what kind of work one did on a farm. Anakin is shoveling hay. There's only just the one horse. It was black and beautiful. Obi-Wan, with his mangy hair and foul stench scares it. He must look a fright. The poor creature rears up. Anakin slips and falls backwards into the mud. He groans angrily.

“Sorry! I didn't mean to!”

“Threepio is skittish as hell. He'd jump over a gust of wind.”

Obi-Wan moves to help him up. But just as with Qui-Gon, the sight of his own hand stills the movement. Anakin looks up at him incredulously.

“Seriously? I'm covered in horse shit and you're not gonna help me up?!”

Obi-Wan grasps Anakin's hand; human contact, warm skin on his own. He nearly cries right then and there.

Anakin goes to use the hose to rinse off. Obi-Wan declines his offer to rinse as well.

“What is it with you and water? Afraid of it or something? Like a phobia?”

“Something like that.”

Anakin shrugs. “Whatever.”

He asks if he can help out with any chores. Anakin, unlike Qui-Gon, agrees. After helping to feed the horse and chickens and pigs, he follows Anakin to the garage. He discovers that Anakin fixes the townspeople's cars out of there. It's just a small business he runs on the side while on sabbatical from college.

Obi-Wan watches him work. They talk. It's nice to have a conversation. He missed it fiercely. Having someone there to talk to. The worst part of the devil's deal wasn't the dirt or the nights outside or the smell clinging to his soul, it was the loneliness.

Anakin is very smart. He seems passionate about the cars. He'll make a good mechanic.

“I don't think I'm going back.” He says quietly as if his father is eavesdropping. “I talked to Watto in town and he said he'll hire me. He owns the only car shop in town. Said he'd rather have me on then steal his customers. Might even take over for him one day.”

“What about college?”

Anakin shrugs. “Dad needs me. He never recovered after mom died.”

Amakin stands, cracking his hands. He wipes the grease off his hands with a cloth.

“You know you really saved our asses.”

“It was nothing.”

“Yeah that's what dad said you told him.”

“it's true.” He shrugs.

Anakin hums. He peers at him, he's come closer without Obi-Wan realizing. Anakin leans down as if he wants to peel back the dirt and skin to the mystery core of this man in front of him.

“He said you asked for a ride outta town?”

“Yes.”

Anakin hums again and nods. “You in a hurry or something? Dad won't ask for help but we could use an extra pair of hands for a few days if you're willing.”

Obi-Wan weighs the decision. Not only would the bed be nice to sleep on for longer, but he's surprised at how much he longs to be useful. To do good work. To have a purpose again. Wandering around aimlessly grated on his soul.

A few more days couldn’t hurt.

-

He gets to know the family. They were all very charming in their own way. Even Ferus who couldn't stand to be in the same room as him. Though a lot of candles have been lit throughout the house recently he's noticed.

Qui-Gon keeps insisting he eat at the table. Anakin makes dinner once. It's good. Obi-Wan wishes he could do the same for them but he couldn't wash his hands for prep.

No one probes him on why he didn't want to shower. For that he's grateful. He couldn't explain even if he wanted to.

The days pass. Anakin teaches him about cars. Qui-Gon and him sit on the porch and talk in the evenings. Ferus still won't go near him, but Ahsoka makes an effort. He liked this little family.

The weekend comes and the family sets up their booth for the Saturday market. Qui-Gon invites him along. Obi-Wan is apprehensive.

“I'd rather not scare away your customers.”

“Are you kidding?” Anakin asks. “People in this town are voracious gossipers. They'll crowd the stand if you come.”

So he does. True to his prediction, people are curious and stop by the little booth to gawk and ask about him. They don't look at him directly, merely a side eye or a glance. But it's obvious they're peering out the corner of their eyes.

The children of the shop owners are curious as well. They gather in a little group hiding behind a tent. They giggle and whisper.

Obi-Wan decides to take a walk around after about an hour or so. Tired of being the center of attention. It's odd, growing up he loved talking and mingling. He loved company. But this kind of attention wasn't worth it.

The kids follow. They aren't subtle. A brave one steps out. They touch the bearskin cloak. They shriek and run back to the group. They whisper even louder now and laughter follows. Another runs up to him, touches his back, and spins around to run. Obi-Wan frowns. Seems he is the subject of a game now.

The next one that comes, Obi-Wan suddenly turns and roars. The children scream and scatter. He has himself a chuckle. That should keep them away.

But then, not a minute later, something hits his back again. He sighs and turns. Then he pauses. No one is there. A pebble hits the front of his chest. Then another. He looks up. Ferus and the other kids pick up a rock and toss it at him. Obi-Wan holds up his arm to shield his face.

“Hey! The fuck are you little shits doin?!” Anakin comes crashing into the scene.

The kids scatter. Anakin grabs Ferus by the back of his shirt. He shakes him.

“This man saved dad's life! What the hell are you doing throwing rocks!?”

Ferus kicks at him but Anakin holds on. Anakin was probably used to roughhousing. Anakin wins easily, pinning his brother to the ground.

Ferus starts to cry. “I don't want him in the house anymore! He's scary and smells weird!”

“Apologize!”

“Anakin, it's fine.”

“No it's not!” He snaps. He pushes Ferus' face into the dirt. “Say you're sorry you little snot!”

“I'm sorry!” Ferus bites out.

Anakin lets him up. Ferus scrambles away.

“I'm not gonna tell dad. But if you pull this shit again he’ll have you shoveling the horse stall out for a month!”

Ferus flips Anakin off and runs away. Anakin sighs. He gets up from the ground and wipes his knees.

“Sorry.”

“It's alright. Kids can be cruel.”

“Yeah well I wonder with Ferus sometimes.”

They walk together. Anakin asks him about England. He overheard a late night conversation Obi-Wan had had with Qui-Gon. But it seemed private so he didn't intervene.

“Sorry, you don't have to answer that. I mean, life fucking sucks. I know that as much as anyone.” Anakin says, hands shoved into his pockets. His flannel shirt looked good on him, Obi-Wan notes. It accented his chest.

Something constricts behind his ribcage. It nearly knocks the breath right out of him. Anakin's curly locks fell out of his baseball cap like a golden waterfall. He was beautiful.

Obi-Wan looks away.

“I don't need to know your life story. Everyone is going through something. It's clear as day that you are too. We all handle grief differently.”

“It's fine.”

Obi-Wan chooses to tell him about his parents. About his childhood. How his fiance died. He misses her.

Through it all Anakin listens attentively. Obi-Wan can't stop staring at him. God he hasn't touched himself in so long. Perhaps that was it. He was just pent up. Anakin wasn't running away in horror the way most people didn't these days so Obi-Wan's fantasies had decided to fixate on him.

He can't help noticing Anakin's hands. Long fingers, strong arms. They were almost always covered in grease.

They wander far enough they're several blocks away from the farmers market and in the central town.

“Ani?” an older woman steps out from the corner store. She smiles.

“Hey Mrs. Organa!”

The woman is kind enough not to linger on Obi-Wan. She greets Anakin warmly. Anakin introduces him. Apparently he used to babysit her kid when he was younger.

“And how is Padme?” She asks.

Anakin's face tightens. “She's, uh, she's fine.”

“That's good to hear. You must come over for dinner sometime. I know Qui-Gon tends to hole himself up in that house of his. Tell him he needs to get out more. His friends miss him.”

“Will do Mrs Organa.”

She walks away.

“Padme?” Obi-Wan asks. He shouldn't pry. He's not sure what possesses him.

Anakin winces. “I met her in college. We're on break right now though. Haven't told anybody because they all expect me to marry her. Well, except you.” He winks. “Can you keep my secret?”

Obi-Wan blushes. Thank God it can't be seen through the dirt caked onto his face.

“It's safe with me.”

After another hour they decide to head back to the farmers market.

A car is following them. They notice around the same time. Anakin frowns. He recognizes it. It's the same one that Qui-Gon had gotten into when meeting with the loan shark.

They run. They race through back alleys and across streets. The car catches up and men get out. They have baseball bats. Obi-Wan knows how to fight dirty, but apparently so does Anakin. They make a good team. They take out the three men together. Anakin spits on their unconscious bodies.

“Should have sent more.” He growls.

Just then another car appears.

“Apparently they did.” Obi-Wan says exasperated.

They get into the now empty car and drive away. Anakin speeds through the streets. He's a demon behind the wheel. He's smiling. He was enjoying this, the adrenaline and the chase. Obi-Wan is impressed.

Clarity returns to him.

“…turn around.”

“What?!”

“They want me, Anakin. Not you or your father. This won't end if you help me get away.”

“No! I'm not giving you to those assholes!”

“Anakin please, I don't want any harm to come to your family!”

Anain jerks the wheel. After several maneuvers he manages to lose their tail. He parks the car and turns to Obi-Wan, now angry.

“Why the fuck would you just give up like that?!”

“I'm not giving up. If I leave town after you were seen helping me it'll only backfire on you! You know it!”

Anakin grits his teeth. He growls angrily under his breath.

“If you don't take me back I'll just find them on my own.”

Anakin suddenly reaches out. He takes Obi-Wan's face in a steely grip.

“Why are you helping us? You've already given us everything!”

He answers truthfully. “I have nothing else to live for.”

Anakin stills. His blue eyes are wide. They are like a balm. Ocean blue cleansing his soul. He aches to bathe in them.

“Please let me do this, darling.”

Best case scenario he gives him some more gold for his own ransom and they let him go. Worst comes to worst they discover his secret gold pocket and keep him as a cash cow. But he doesn't think it'll come to that.

Anakin dips his head and bumps against his forehead. “Okay.” He says quietly. He doesn't let go of his face.

“Anakin…”

Anakin shivers. “I really like the way you say my name, you know? That fucking accent. So posh.” He gives a little smile, sad and small.

Obi-Wan has no idea what the hell to do with that information.

Eventually they part. Ankain starts the car and drives him back into the open. They find the other car easy enough and stop. Obi-Wan gets out. He nods at Anakin and heads over.

-

The thing is, only Obi-Wan is able to remove the gold from his pockets. No one else can. It doesn't work like that. So when the loan shark has his men search him they find nothing. As far as they know he's telling the truth.

“My lost my entire family in a car crash two years ago. I was the only survivor. I sold my estate and pocketed whatever money I could carry. I don't care what happens to me.”

“So you just, what, gave the last of it to save a random guy you don't know in the middle of the night? No connection to Qui-Gon Jinn at all?”

“I'm sure you've researched him thoroughly by now. Did you find me anywhere in Qui-Gon's history?”

The gangster frowns. No. They didn't.

“I have nothing and no one. I figured he could use the money more than me. I'm a tired old man who's given up on life. I just wanted to do some good in the world before I shuffled off this plane into the next.”

The shark sighs. Clearly this was been a dead end. It was a long shot anyway. He'd ordered the mysterious hobo brought in more out of curiosity than anything else. Nothing much happened in this area after all and he was intrigued.

They let him go in the end. Obi-Wan breaths a heavy sigh of relief. Thank God.

He should move on. Should head to the next town over. But his heart doesn't want to. He wants to see Anakin one last time. With the loan shark now disinterested he could potentially stay.

But oh the way Anakin had looked at him. He knows the danger wasn't over yet. He would ruin that boy.

When he walks down to the house it's late in the evening. He hears a shout from within as he makes his way up the driveway. Ahsoka opens the door in shock. Seconds later Anakin bursts out the door showing her aside. He races down the path, startling Obi-Wan. They collide. Anakin wraps his arms around him tightly. Obi-Wan falls into the embrace. He hugs him back.

“I'm alright.” He assures him. “They won't come here again.”

“You fucking idiot!” Anakin says, relief in his voice.

Dinner is a boisterous affair. There's smiles and laughter and even Ferus talks to him. Obi-Wan can't remember the last time he felt so at home. He'd been at war for years and then fell into the Devil's deal soon after returning to find his fiance passed. He longs to stay here.

Ahsoka gathers the dishes. Ferus helps her wash. As Obi-Wan heads up to his room for one last time, Qui-Gon mentions that he wouldn't mind if he stayed. He needed an extra hand around the farm anyway. And he's sure Anakin wouldn't mind. He says this last part with a knowing twinkle in his eyes.

Obi-Wan thanks him but declines. It was only going to get worse from here. He was still recognizable as a human more or less. But he had three more years to go. He can't imagine putting this family, or Anakin, through all that. It was his burden to bear and his alone.

That night, it's hard to sleep. He thinks perhaps he will sneak out at dawn before the family wakes. He'll leave a hefty pile of gold on the counter. Just in case. Perhaps Qui-Gon will be able to hire a real farm hand with it. Or Anakin can go back to college.

After about an hour of tossing and turning, there's a soft knock on his door. He sits up. Anakin comes in and shuts the door behind him.

“Couldn't sleep.” He says.

He takes a seat on the end of the bed. Obi-Wan bristles.

“You're leaving aren't you?”

Obi-Wan hangs his head. “It's for the best.”

“For you or us?”

Both.

Anakin runs a frustrated hand through his hair. Obi-Wan wants to tangle his fingers into those locks. He swallows thickly. All the more reason to leave.

“When mom died, dad hit a wall.” Anakin says quietly. “He couldn’t get past it. He held onto all her things. He refused to sell anything that reminded him of her. Then the bills started piling up. He should have sold the farm years ago. We all knew it. The town knew it. But he wouldn't. So he started gambling. Then he started losing.” His eyes are dark as they stare across the room at the wall. “All he had to do was let go. None of us would be in this situation.”

Anakin could have been in college with his girl. Ahsoka and Ferus could be hanging out with friends and focusing on school instead of doing endless chores.

“Grief makes it hard to see the obvious. I know that more than anyone. I don't know what you've been through but you don't have to keep going through it alone. You can stay here.” Anakin turns to look at him. Obi-Wan feels pinned. “Stay here with me.”

Obi-Wan dares not hope he means what he thinks he means. He couldn't possibly want a filthy, disgusting creature like–

Anakin takes his hand. “Whatever burden you're carrying you can set it down here. I won't judge you.”

“It's not that simple.” Obi-Wan chokes out. He can't just wash away his past. The dirt must remain.

Ankain leans in. “Please,”

Obi-Wan lets him. Heaven help him, he lets him.

Their lips press together. He doesn't open his mouth. He's too afraid. Anakin's nose brushes against his. His breath must smell horrendous. His teeth are more yellow than white.

Anakin kisses him again. This time the other man lays a hand on his cheek. He presses his thumb into his jawline. Against his better judgment, he loosens his jaw. Anakin's tongue slips in. Obi-Wan moans. He tasted better than any hot meal he's ever had. Any drink of water on a searing summer day.

“Ben…” He breathes.

It's enough to knock sense back into him. The last person who moaned his name like that was dead. Only Satine had ever called him Ben.

He pulls away. Anakin holds on. Obi-Wan gently takes his hands and pulls them off. He smiles sadly.

“I have to go Anakin.”

Anakin looks like he wants to protest. He actually wants this mangy animal in his house. In his bed. Obi-Wan cannot fathom why.

“I…” Obi-Wan hesitates. It is selfish to ask. He shouldn't ask. Shouldn't even consider it. “Can you wait for me?”

Abakin deserved to live his own life. He already sacrificed so much coming back here to help his father with his shortcomings. But he can't help but want. He needed to know there was a light at the end of the tunnel. That someone out there was thinking of him.

“How long?” Anakin whispers.

“Three years.”

Ankains face tightens. Three years was a long time for a practical stranger.

“Okay,” he squeezes their hands together. “I'll wait.”

-

Obi-Wan leaves the money on the dining table.

It's about a mile or two away from the Jinn homestead that he decides to stop living for himself. Too long has he been using his money for his own gain. He had more than he could spend and more than he could ever need.

Whenever he passes by someone on the street with a sign, he fills up their cup. Whenever he stays at a homeless shelter, he gives everyone there as many coins as they can carry. He tips any cashiers or retail workers that help him handsomely.

It makes him feel a little lighter. Knowing he was doing something in this world to make it better. The gracious smiles he receives in return are all he ever needs.

-

When the end of year seven arrives he is more animal than man. Even the shelters turn him away now.

The stench is terrible and foul. He scares children and animals wherever he goes. But everyday day brought him closer to the end. Closer to Anakin.

He makes it an old church at the edge of a town somewhere in Arizona. It was Thursday afternoon. No one was inside.

“Devil! I have held up my end of the bargain! Show yourself!”

There's a chilling laughter followed by a tingle up his spine.

The old man appears just the same as before. Though now, instead of delight, he looks agitated.

“It seems you have.” Palpatine snarls.

Obi-Wan grabs hold of the bearskin and rips it off. His hair, having grown into it, yanks off with it. He feels like his very skin is peeling away. But Obi-Wan keeps yanking. Needing to be free of this thing he'd become.

The second it's off, something clicks. Obi-Wan blinks. His body feels lighter. He looks down. It wasn't just the bearskin weighing him down, it was the years of dirt and mud and filth. He's clean now. All of it is gone.

His hair and nails are trimmed as well. He runs his hands over his face. Shock and awe coursing through him followed by elation. He could smell the air now. It was fresh and good and oh he's missed this!

“And the riches you promised?”

“Put your hand into your pocket. No matter what clothing you wear, it will always produce a handful of gold.”

Obi-Wan grins at the devil. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

Palpatine lip curls. “I'll have your soul yet, Kenobi.”

Then he vanishes.

-

Obi-Wan bathes for three days straight. He's so pruny that his skin is wrinkled beyond measure. But he doesn't care. He'll never go another day without showering again.

The resort he checked in at brings him room service. He snuggles into the soft blankets. Happy and clean at last.

His thoughts turn to Anakin. Had he waited for him? If he'd gone back to college he may have started dating Padme again. Perhaps they even married. The last time someone waited for him they'd died, so returning to find them married this time wouldn't be so bad. At least he tells himself that.

It takes months for him to get his affairs back into order and re-enter society. After seven years England had declared him dead. He returns to his home country and visits Satines family. He apologizes for disappearing on them.

After the fourth month he admits he's stalling. He works up the courage to return to America.

-

Anakin is at the local mechanic shop. The pay is fine for what it is. Qui-Gon had urged him to return to college and finish his degree. He had. But shortly afterward Qui-gon had fallen ill. He moved back home again, for what he now suspects is the last time, and takes care of him.

Ahsoka has moved away and is living her life. Ferus is about ready to graduate. Ahsoka offered to come back and help out as well, but Anakin refused. He had it covered. No need for them both to be here trapped in this town.

The medication was expensive, burning through all the gold they had left. He shouldn't have bothered finishing his degree. They would have had so much more.

He sold the animals first. Broke his heart to get rid of Threepio. He'll have to look into selling the farm at some point but decides to wait until after Ferus is out of the house.

Anakin isn't sure what he'll do when Ferus graduates. His little brother takes care of their father while he's at work in town. Qui-Gon assures him he doesn't need looking after and can stand to be home alone for a few hours but the last time that happened he had an episode and fell down the stairs. So no. Leaving his father alone is out of the question. Anakin wipes his sweaty brow and sighs.

Soon he's headed home again. He spots a strange car into the driveway. It looked nice. Brand new. He narrows his eyes. Qui-Gon better not be meeting with loan sharks again.

He enters cautiously. “Dad? I'm home!”

He finds him In the living room. He's on the couch having tea with a man in a white button down and slacks. Qui-Gon waves him over. A grin is in his face.

“Anakin! Come in! This is an old friend, Obi-Wan!”

Anakin eyes Obi-Wan. His auburn hair and blue eyes were striking. He frowns. “He just popped on by then?”

“Sorry to drop in unannounced.” The man says. And Anakin freezes for a moment. The crisp accent reminded him of Ben. “I was in the area and wanted to see how Qui-Gon was faring.” Then his face turns serious. “I didn't know he was sick. I would have come sooner if I had.”

Qui-Gon shakes his head. “Nonsense, you're here and that's what matters!”

Obi-Wan smiles. He sets his tea down. “Your father tells me you're selling the farm?”

“Yeah?” Anakin looks between the two of them, brow raised. “It's about time anyway.”

Obi-Wan nods. Then he turns a bit nervous. “I already asked Qui-Gon here, but it's just–well I have a rather large inheritance and thought my old friend here could use it. We've been discussing moving him to a city with better doctors. I can pay for the treatment of course.”

Now Anakin is thoroughly confused. This stranger from his father's past had swept in and is offering a way out? Why? Who would do that? And how do they know each other?

“Dad, what the hell did you promise this guy?” What kind of “old friend” swoops in after years of estrangement? This had to be another loan shark.

“Anakin it's fine. He just wants to help.”

Anakin narrows his eyes. “Sure he does.”

Just then his cell goes off. It's his boss. Anakin sighs. “I'll be right back.” He mutters. This wasn't over.

He leaves the room and stops outside in the hallway. Just as he's about to take the call it drops. Anakin frowns. He punches the number into his cell to call Watto back.

“Why won't you let me tell him Obi-Wan?”

Anakin pauses. He lowers his phone from his ear. Voices whisper from the other room.

“Trust me it's for the best.”

He hears a clink of porcelain. “He missed you. We all did.”

What?

“I'm not what he needs.”

“Believe me, you think I don't feel guilty for trapping my son here? I do. All the time. But he refuses to do things for himself. I want him to be selfish, Ben.”

The name shoots through his chest. Ben. Kind, lovely Ben. Anakin slumps down the wall. Heart in his throat.

The accent was exactly the same. He should have known. It was the cleanliness that had thrown him off. Obi-Wan was respectable in every sense of the word. His hair was perfectly cut and beard trim and neat. He sat with an air of refined nobility that most people didn't have. It was no wonder he hadn't recognized him.

The hell was he playing at? Coming back into their lives like this again when they needed him most? Was he just going to give Dad a bunch of money again and fuck of back to England? Is that all he thought he was good for?

With shaking legs, Anakin goes back in. Qui-Gon looks up.

“What was that about?”

“Huh? Oh, um, Watto just couldn't find where I put the tools. It's fine.”

He plops down right next to Obi-Wan. To Ben. Both men blink in confusion. Anakin stares back.

He had a scent now. A bit of aftershave and cologne. Anakin wants to bury his nose in it.

“How do you know my dad?”

Obi-Wan tenses. “Oh, um, it was about 20 years ago. My car broke down in the middle of nowhere and Qui-Gon here fixed it for me.”

Anakin squints as his father winces. Qui-Gon was handy around the house but he didn't know shit about cars. That had been his mother. She was the one that had taught him about engines.

“He fixed it for you?”

“Yes that's right.”

“Do you hear that?” Qui-Gon sits up. He puts a hand to his ear. “I think I hear Ferus calling.”

He practically runs out of the room. Anakin snorts. He turns back to his interrogation.

“Why are you here?”

“To…check up on your father?”

“After 20 years? Try again.”

Obi-Wan swallows. Anakin watches the bob of his adams apple. As angry as he is right now he's also fighting not to just grab the stupid man.

“I was in the country and thought I may as well pay a visit while I'm here.”

“Nothing else? No other motives? No one else to see?”

“No?”

Obi-Wan looks like he wants to sink into the couch and disappear. Good. Let him cook. Anakin has waited three years for him to come back to him and now he doesn't even want him!

Anakin stiffens. Oh. He didn't want him anymore.

The epiphany settles like dust after an explosion. Anakin leans back, away from Obi-Wan. He'd met someone else back in England. He must have. It's why Ben didn't want Qui-Gon telling him who he was. And now he was too embarrassed to owe up to it.

Heartbreak clings to the edges of his chest. Anakin swipes it away. He supposed it made sense. Obi-Wan was far too handsome to remain single for long. Of course someone else snatched him up. The fact that Obi-Wan had still bothered to come back at all meant something. At the very least he was still willing to take care of his family. Of Qui-Gon. For that Anakin would always be grateful.

The fight leeches out of him. “I see,” he says quietly. He forces himself to continue. “Thank you for checking up on him. He can be really stubborn about his health.”

Obi-Wan offers a small chuckle. “I'm well aware. I practically had to fight him to get him to agree to come to England.”

Anakin startles. “England?”

“Yes. I know some people, great doctors. They will take care of him there.”

Anakin wilts. Everyone was leaving. Everyone was moving on. Anakin was still stuck where he's always been.

“You're welcome to come too of course. I just wasn't sure you'd be amenable. You have your own life here after all.”

Anakin thinks on it. On the one hand he'd like to make sure Qui-Gon was alright personally. But on the other he'd have to see Obi-Wan's lover or partner or whomever.

Then again, England was a good place to start over. Maybe they could be friends? Anakin's voice comes out small. “I'll think about it.”

-

Anakin watches the sun set on the porch. He wipes away the silent tears that fall. At least now he could finally stop wondering and move on. His Dad would be taken care of. He could get out of this town just like he always wanted. He didn't have to wait around anymore.

Another presence becomes known with the creak of old wood behind him. Anakin tenses. He braces his arms against the porch railing.

Go away, he thinks. Go away.

Obi-Wan appears beside him with a plate of cut apples. “I thought you might like some.”

Anakin shakes his head. Obi-Wan puts the plate on the railing all the same.

“Qui-Gon's gone to bed.”

Anakin nods. Just go away.

“Anakin?” He sounds shocked. “Darling, why are you crying?”

Fuck. Anakin grits his teeth. Can't even be alone in the middle of nowhere on a farm. He hunches over more, trying to hide his wet face. He shakes his head again. Fuck him, calling him darling like he still cared.

“I've been waiting for someone,” he whispers, not trusting his voice. He grips the railing and it creaks under his hands. “I don't think they're coming back for me anymore.”

The old Anakin would have called him out for it. Would have screamed and yelled and made a scene. But now? He's just done with it all. He wants it to be over. He wants to be unstuck.

For a long moment, Obi-Wan is silent. So quiet that Anakin almost thinks if he turns his head to look he'll be gone. Alone again. But then Obi-Wan exhales and Anakin is suddenly aware of another body leaning against the railing.

He dares to glance over at him. But Obi-Wan isn't looking at him. He's looking up at the evening sky. His face has crumpled inward, a reflection of Anakin’s grief.

“Perhaps he was unsure if his presence was wanted.”

Anakin swallows a bite of anger. “I'd given him no reason to think he wouldn't be.”

Obi-Wan hesitates and then, “I'm sorry, Anakin.”

He closes his eyes, letting the night air cool against his heated skin. Then he opens them. “Who is she?”

Now Obi-Wan finally turns to look at him. “What?”

“The person you're leaving me for? That's why you didn't come back sooner isn't it?”

Obi-Wan looks shocked. “No! Anakin no I was busy trying to get my life back in order! There's no one!”

“Then why pretend? Why didn't you tell me who you were Ben?” He snaps.

Obi-Wan flinches. “I thought you'd moved on. You're better off without me.”

Anakin laughs coldly. He waves his hands over his head at the house and life in general. “None of us would be better off without you! You saved us! You saved me!”

Anakin wants to tear his hair out. Curse this idiotic self sacrificing man. “Stop thinking about what you think I want and start thinking about what you want! What do you want, Obi-Wan?”

It comes out easily. Surprisingly so. “You, Anakin.”

It shocks them both.

“I want you. Anything you'll give me.”

Anakin shakes, his skin practically vibrating. “I'll give you anything you want, you asshole!”

Their mouths clash as their bodies brace. They moan into the kiss, finally reunited.

-

(They move to England in a gorgeous mansion and are in love and gross about it. Ahsoka is the best man for Anakin. Ferus bears the rings. Qui-Gon is very proud. He can't stop crying, it's embarrassing.)

[suplicyy]

hi hi!! i hope your day went well. i just want to ask if i may make a request of fluff kuroo x manager with albinism? sorry if the request is too much ❤️‍🩹

Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader with albinism

— Summary: You are the newest manager of the Nekoma volleyball team, and you end up catching the attention of the team captain.

— Fluff

— Gn!Reader

You are someone who attracts a lot of attention at school because of your albinism, and of course your beauty and kind personality towards everyone was also something that helped with your popularity, but many people end up becoming too curious about their condition, which can sometimes come with some unpleasant questions and bad jokes.

But you didn't care that much about it.

Until a certain moment when a guy kept bothering you, and you felt a little uncomfortable and even tried to push him away, but the boy wouldn't give in.

But on that day luck was on your side, and a divine messenger of good arrived to help you, (although his appearance and personality looked more like a messenger of the devil) and this guy was Kuroo! He was passing by when he saw the situation and wasted no time in pushing the obnoxious boy away from you.

After this situation you thanked him so much that he thought you would short circuit, you wanted to pay your debt to him somehow, and he made sure everything was ok. But when he saw that you continued to insist, he had an idea.

"Actually, I do have something to ask you... if you're not currently at any club, you could be the manager of my volleyball team, we've been in need for a while and we've never found anyone who could be."

You accepted the proposal as quickly as the speed of light. And that's how you became the manager of Nekoma's volleyball club.

You didn't know that much about volleyball, so you needed to study a lot about the positions, rules, among other things, and of course Kuroo saw this as an opportunity to talk to you more. He helped you a lot in this regard, any questions you had he would answer right away.

The truth is that he finds your appearance very captivating, and if you have long hair you can be sure that he would fall in love instantly. But it wasn't just your appearance that the boy was interested in, the way you care about everyone on the team and your kindness certainly made you stay on his mind for weeks.

Expect a lot of teasing from him, as much as he likes you he wouldn't be able to resist the temptation to make a few sarcastic comments here and there, but of course, he would never cross the line with you or say something that would make you sad.

But even though he is like this, he is extremely attentive to you.

After he discovered that due to albinism your skin can be very sensitive, he always carries sunscreen in his backpack in case you forget to bring one.

One day your parasol ended up breaking, and as you can't leave the house without it due to the sun's rays, you ended up not going to school. And when Kuroo found out about this he ran to the nearest store and bought one for you, besides, he personally went to your house to deliver it to you.

And speaking of home, he always offers to take you home, usually accompanied by Kenma who always has his face buried in his video game so he doesn't have to hear the light flirtations that Kuroo throws at you (he hates being a third wheel).

I think that to some extent everyone on the team will already be aware of their captain's crush on you. And of course they would try to somehow help him win you over, and Kuroo reluctantly had to agree, even though he was scared of some suggested methods, especially advices coming from Lev and Taketora.

"Let's try to throw a ball at their face and before the ball hits them you throw yourself in front of the ball to protect them!!"

He certainly wouldn't follow advices coming from Lev and Taketora.

Instead, he would try to confess to you on a day when only he was accompanying you to your house.

As you finally finish today's club activities, Kuroo approaches you, sign that you were about to leave.

"Huh... Kenma isn't coming too?" you say looking around looking for the pudding head. "Ah about that, he said he wouldn't go with us today because he needed to stop by somewhere first." the boy says as he picks up your bag, an act he's already gotten into the habit of doing so you don't have to carry so much weight.

That was clearly a lie, Kuroo had talked to Kenma before that to make sure he was alone with you on the way home. But you didn't notice of course.

So you walked side by side in silence, today Kuroo was strangely restless, but at this moment it wasn't uncomfortable, it was a pleasant silence, as if being in each other's company was enough.

At a certain point, he stops walking, an act that you don't notice until he calls you. "[Name]" you stop walking and turn to Kuroo, who has a serious look on his face.

"I need to tell you something." he says nervously fiddling with the strap of his backpack. You wait patiently for him to say what he has to say, until he lets out a long sigh and makes eye contact with you.

"I've been wanting to tell you this for a while... But is it too late now to ask you out on a date?" he says with that smile that always makes you blush.

You are surprised by his words, as you never thought your crush for him would be reciprocated.

Embarrassed by the situation, you nervously roll up your snow-colored hair in your finger, but soon give a shy smile.

"Actually, I would love that..."

A/N — Sorry for the delay in posting this!! My exam week is finally over, and my vacation is about to arrive, so I'm going to be more present here!! 😆😆

[ruewrites]

Creation

AO3

Word Count: 3677

Warning(s): None

A/N: I hope y'all enjoy! I had a lot of fun participating in the gift exchange @obeymeholidayexchange! my giftee was @spaceshxtking and the prompt I chose was "What Barbatos does on his (forced) day off". I HOPE YOU LIKE IT DIA-RYAN 💗

Barbatos scanned the rows of fresh fruits and vegetables, his human world attire fluttering gently in the morning breeze. It wasn't often he had a day off, honestly he'd rather not have one at all, he was in perfect condition as always, and his goals aligned with anything his young lord desired. 

Unless the young lord desired him to take a day off, that was simply out of the question.

His work was all he needed. It was his art, his craft, and he took extra care of it so that he stayed sharp and vigilant.  After all, what would become of him if he dared to let his skills falter? A dull butler was hardly fit to stand next to the future king of the Devildom, and Barbatos had tried to plead this case, but this was one of few disagreements that he would not win. Diavolo was insistent, he would not accept any answer other than an enthusiastic yes from the Time Demon. Not only an enthusiastic yes, but he also couldn’t stay near the castle grounds, and how much farther could one go before hitting the Celestial Realm than that of the Human Realm?

He plucked an apple from a cart and smiled. Even after all these years they still enjoyed temptation. 

They were all perfectly ripe and prime for harvest. Even if it was his day off, it didn’t mean he couldn’t indulge in one of his favored hobbies, and if his hobby was to result in a delectable apple crumb cake for his Master for dinner, who could fault him? Besides they were a most delectable red, a shade that would certainly remind his master of his favored fallen angel’s eyes. 

Who could fault Barbatos for being so thoughtful and generous with his never ending time? 

Dropping his payment into the seller's hand and pleased with his purchase, Barbatos continued to make his way down the row of stalls when a familiar voice reached his ears. Stopping, he focused, and listened. 

“Maybe you can have it when you reach it, kid.”

“Hey! That’s not fair!”

Cruelty disguised as humor was the lowest form of torture in Barbatos’ humble opinion. It was used by cowards too afraid to acknowledge their own shortcomings. The apple never did fall far even after generations, not since Adam turned on Eve. When the benefit of doubt worked in their favor and cast stones upon another they clasped at it with sweaty palms and whispered sweet words with foul breath.

They could at least be more creative with how they acted, and more clever.

“Teasing a child? I’d hardly say that’s a good look for business.”

Barbatos prided himself on his outward appearance. He must always appear calm and collected. It wasn’t necessarily about how one reacts in a situation, but about the aura one emitted. Onlookers were less likely to get involved if they didn’t immediately perceive a hostile threat, and the less obvious he could make himself appear, the better. 

He watched with interest as the man cowered before him. There was a specific type of fear that Barbatos enjoyed when a snake noticed a hawk, once they are no longer the apex predator they tremble like the worms they are, reminded of their proper position in the food chain. The way their shoulders hunch and their lips twitch betray their intentions as they step back in line. They remember they aren’t the smartest or the most tactful, that there is always a bigger fish lurker in the depths beneath them waiting for a given opportunity to strike. Suddenly the tiniest slip ups matter, the smallest mistakes could cost their final breath, and no other soul around is any the wiser. 

“I wasn’t-”

“You weren’t?” Barbatos mused, taking a step closer to the stall, “It seemed to me like you were.” His eyes flashed and his head tilted to the side. Despite the open streets and the crowded sidewalks his prey was cornered and alone. 

Sins had a price.

Especially sins against his own. 

���No, no sir! I just like to have a little fun with the kids,is all,” the salesman laughed and attempted to roll his shoulders back into a straighter position to regain his footing, “Makes them eat right and such so they can get big and strong. Ya know?”

Barbatos hummed in response and glanced at the bag of sugar in the man’s hands. 

Silence made the clerk squirm, returning to a state that Barbatos preferred him to be him. It was much more suited to his nature after all. The man cleared his throat, “You uh, you got kids? You know what I’m talking about right?”

Barbatos smiled and placed a hand on top of the mop of blonde hair beside him, “This one finds his way into my care quite often. So if you wouldn’t mind-”

“Oh! Of course! Feel free to take it at a discount! For being such a kind fellow.”

Barbatos was no such thing.

The young angel before him looked up at him with shining wonder as he handed over the bag of sugar. Admiration was painted across his features and he reached out to hand over the coins he’d been carrying, “You really are something Barbatos! How’d you get so good at bartering like that?”

“With a milenia of experience behind me. It is quite the pleasure to run into you here, Luke.”

Luke’s grin quickly turned into a frown, “You can say that again. I don’t know why humans act like that sometimes. Don’t they know how they’re coming across and how rude it is? I thought they would have known better.”  He thought for a moment, pondering as he and Barbatos continued to walk along. “Well, I guess even Solomon has his quirks, but he doesn’t really count as a normal human does he?”

“In some ways I suppose.”

That sorcerer was certainly  far from normal. 

“Speaking of not normal, why aren’t you at the Demon Lord’s Castle.”

It would appear that they were playing a game of Topics that would make Barbatos Bristle at the current time. How lucky for him.  

“The Young Master thought it would be an excellent idea for me to take the day off, and what better way than to enjoy the Human Realm and all the exquisite ingredients it has to offer?” Offering the young angel another smile, Barbatos forced his annoyance away. It wasn’t Luke’s fault that others failed to understand him and the importance of his work. 

Luke continued to hop along, looking over eggs at the next stall they came across, “I can see why they want you to take a break, because they care about you and want what’s best for you right? But I also think it’s a little frustrating.”

Insightful for a being who has not experienced creation for long. 

Well, perhaps for a human, maybe, but not for creatures such as angels and demons. If humanity were a speck in the history of creation, Luke was a slightly smaller speck. Maybe he would have been old enough to witness their Dark Age, but that was being generous, at least Barbatos thought so, but who could say? Most beings looked young to him with where he was now, it certainly made it hard to tell who experienced what when, even without all of the different possibilities at all. 

“Simeon sends me away a lot. Michael will give me a task and Simeon will say he can handle it, that I should spend more time ‘enjoying youth’,” a small huff left his lips as he placed the eggs gently into his basket, “But why should I? I like doing what I do, why should I spend my time doing something else? If I want to get anywhere later in life, pleasing Michael is the best way to do it. After all, Raphael was the youngest angel to become a seraphim for now- I’m going to be the youngest Seraphim ever in existence!”

Barbatos was silent for a moment, pretending to look over the other produce as Luke spoke. “I can’t say I disagree with Simeon all too much,” he said, “After all, he has lived much longer than you have, he knows a thing or two about growing.”

“But why Barbatos?” Luke asked, looking genuinely betrayed as he turned towards Barbatos, “I thought if anyone, you would understand. I like working. It's what I want to do with my life and it aligns with my goals. Isn’t that enough? Why should I not do it if it’s what I like?”

Barbatos stopped. For a moment he was genuinely stunned, and a sincere smile made its way across his face. Some angels liked to spread the word that they were above sin, especially to humans, but they were just like the rest of them. Perhaps they were above humans in some ways, but angels and demons were more similar than those particular angels chose to believe. The act of turning one thing into something else just made some angels more comfortable, and so they chose to turn such acts into (what they considered) more positive attributes. 

Or maybe it was all about perception. 

Perhaps there was no sin at all. 

At the end of the day, could intention matter more?

This was what Barbatos loved about creation, how curious it all was, especially younger spawns of her whimsy. They wanted to know everything, why and why not, how and how not. Some would even consider knowledge itself a sin, but was it really? 

Barbatos had been around for a long time, perhaps even since the beginning of time itself, whenever that was. Or should he say whatever that was? Oh he made himself chuckle from time to time. There was that word again, time-

But that was a different stream of thought for a different day. 

Or maybe a different him had already gone down that path, and he could review it as if it had happened now.

But now, now now, he needed to contemplate how to answer Luke’s question in the best way. 

“No creature is perfect, and oftentimes our greatest strengths, can also become our greatest flaws.” Barbatos continued to act as if was examining the produce as he spoke, picking apart each individual molecule with his eyes as he went. “A star burns bright, but its light is snuffed out so quickly. Ambition is like that. You burn until you have nothing else to give, and at that point you fade from existence.”

Stepping back, he finally turned towards Luke, “You won’t become a seraphim if your wings no longer exist, now can you?”

Luke’s eyes cast downwards towards the ground as he shook his head, “I guess not. That’s why Simeon and Diavolo both want us to take breaks huh?”  

There was no possibility in which an honest lesson wouldn’t have turned against him.

“After all, he can’t be a great king if his loyal butler isn’t by his side. Right?”

Another chord struck inside him, this one softer and more melodious. 

To be young and naive of the world. Any demon would know what dangerous game they were playing with Barbatos by bringing up his profession, he was even well known among gifted humans and circles of angels who whispered his name. He was certain there were angels who thought Simeon more than foolish to allow Luke to be left in his care. Even Raphael threw him a wary glance from across rooms. Any danger Luke had once perceived from him had vanished, and wouldn’t that be quite the complex problem for the Celestial Realm to untangle?

Was he not still an enemy or a scheming foe?

The young lord’s plan to unite the Three Realms was not without controversy after all. While the Celestial Realm was participating, they weren’t without their hesitancies. Then there was the issue of how both angels and demons viewed humans. It all came to the same conclusion for many angels: Demons were monstrous, unholy, and sinful creatures of the dark. It was no fault of their own, it was how they were taught. How could they ever learn any different. 

Had it not been for Simeon’s more personal affections towards his fallen comrades, he would have likely been the same. 

“Barbatos?”

“Yes Luke?”

“Do you want to bake together?” Luke glances at Barbatos’ bag and then back up at the demon. “That’s what you were planning on doing right? You were going to make something for Diavolo on your time off?”

“Observant as ever Luke, in fact I was.”

“We could go to the Angel’s Halo! Simeon won’t mind if we borrow the kitchen a bit for baking,” Luke said, grabbing Barbatos’ hand without waiting for an answer. While initially hesitant about demons and their nature, the young angel was eager to share his joys and hobbies with Barbatos. Perhaps his view of demons was changing, or perhaps Barbatos was an exception to the rule. “Did you have plans for what you wanted to make?”

“How would you feel about an apple pie?”

***

Flour was powdered across the counter, coating it as the world was covered with the first flurries of snow in winter. The timer ticked away slowly as the demon and angel talked about everything and nothing. Barbatos spent most of his time listening as Luke spoke of all he learned, what had happened since last they’d talked, and his hopes for the future. In many ways, he reminded Barbatos of a young Diavolo. Children were all so similar. The young lord and Luke had grown up in similar environments, taught to hate their enemy and all of their flaws. 

Yet his young lord grew up wanting to unite the three realms and bring peace. 

Maybe Luke would grow to be less hesitant by the idea. 

Day by day his worldview was changing. 

Day by day those ingrained beliefs were fading. 

Simeon had left a note behind, informing Luke that he had gone out on his own shopping trip but that he’d soon return. So the butler and the angel were left with the kitchen to themselves, to create and craft from their own mind’s eye. Now the dough was forming, morphing, changing into something new, something they wouldn’t truly know until it was done. Barbatos swiped away the flour from the counter as Luke washed their dishes. The clinking of metal and the gentle stream of warm water were calming to Barbatos’ ears. He hummed along softly and he revived the counter back to her former sparkling and pristine form. The transformations always pleased him, watching something filthy and soiled become new and glorious once more. 

When he caught his own reflection on the surface, his chest welled, and a smile was staring back at him.

Cleanliness was close to godliness, and Barbatos revelled in removing the dirt that smudged perfect visions, even if he was the one responsible for cloudy vision in the first place. 

Sometimes the joy of a mystery was giving someone a push in the right direction.

Sometimes teaching involved holding back and giving nudges to the answer rather than saying it outright. 

Swiping his cloth once more across the counter, he was finally pleased with its appearance and nodded back towards his reflection. 

“Barbatos?”

“Hm?” His ears twitched as he focused on Luke’s voice.

 “Why do you think people like baking?”

“I find it relaxing for one, I imagine others do as well,” Barbatos chuckled, “Or perhaps it’s the generosity of sharing with others.”

Or the never ending search for praise and adoration, to have another hung so close on something that had been made and to have them indulge in it. There was truly nothing better, especially not when someone relied on him so heavily. It was a wonderful feeling, to be a confidant and close friends. 

There were some who would call his desires fiendish, yet others would know the deepest parts of him and still call him a friend.

How dare the latter demand him take time off for his own wellbeing. It was nothing short of cruel even if well intentioned, but once again, that was his own interpretation. His Master would never see it as cruel. Even if he did, well, Barbatos doubted that would make him change his decisions. The young lord was the Prince of Demons after all. In the eyes of some, he was torturing Barbatos for no other reason to be cruel.

In his personal opinion, he had just taught his Master too well. 

He’d probably end up teaching Luke too well too. 

How ironic life was.

“Well I guess.” Luke’s brow furrowed in frustration for a moment as he searched as to why Barbatos’ answer wasn’t satisfactory. Barbatos knew it wasn’t the answer he was searching for, that’s why he gave it. Now he waited as Luke worked through how to clarify what it was he was searching for. “But why?”

“Elaborate. I told you why.”

“What makes us like our hobbies? Why like baking? What about making things is so…fun?”

Barbatos nodded and closed his eyes, “I think we all love to participate in the acts that allow us to be here.”

Before Luke could finish cocking his head in confusion,  Barbatos continued, “We are all creatures of creation. At one moment in time we weren’t here and at another we were. Or we were something before we became something else. Or we were unconscious and then gained consciousness. Regardless of the circumstances of our birth, or what the definition of birth is, the act instills something into our very nature. We yearn to touch the stars and craft them. Even if we can't, we try the next best thing.”

Barbatos grabbed a container from the cabinet before walking closer. “Cup your hands.”

He tapped the container a few times into the angel’s hands, and then the two of them watched as the golden sprinkles sparkled in the light of the kitchen. Luke moved his hands from one side to the other, making the tiny stars flicker in his palm.

“Do you understand?”

The oven timer rang out in the kitchen. 

***

Barbatos sat by and watched as Luke changed the fluffy crust of their pie into the leaves of a tree. He added tiny detail etched in with his glaze. The small details he added never ceased to surprise Barbatos. The way he changed the viewpoint of the tree intrigued him. Fluffy clouds had been added around the border, making it seem as if they were viewing the tree from above.

Why this choice?

Perhaps he would never know.

Or maybe he would, just not now. 

“It smells heavenly in here.” 

Simeon entered the kitchen with bags in both of his arms, “Hello Barbatos, it’s surprising to see you here. Is Diavolo around?”

“I’m afraid not. I’ve been sent here on mandatory vacation. Could I assist you with those?”

“I believe I’ve got it. Besides, I wouldn’t want to ruin your mandatory vacation.”

How irritatingly polite of him.

“Plus, I think you and Luke have been hard at work here, haven’t you?”

Luke nodded, finally peering up from his work  to allow Simeon a better view of his handiwork, “We made a human world apple pie. I decorated the crust myself.”

Simeon’s eyes sparkled as he looked down at the young angel’s work, his hands clasped close to his lips and hardly hiding the smile behind them. “Wonderful work Luke! You know, I think Barbatos has inspired some of your best work I’ve ever seen.”

“I merely offer support and guidance, I leave Luke to his own creative devices,” Barbatos chimed, keeping his spot back by the other counter, “Still, I would say he is my star pupil in the kitchen.”

“Don’t let Solomon hear you say that.”

“I would say it louder if he were here.”

Maybe Barbatos imagined it, but he could have sworn the angel stifled a laugh behind his hands. He was more than aware of how Barbatos felt, and certainly more than aware of the antics of that sorcerer. 

“Of all of them, Luke is the shining apple of my eye, and right now he looks like an apple too.”

Luke stood between his mentors, face red and looking as if he wished he could sink into the floor between them. Despite that, there was something about him that was beaming, a small smile toying at the edges of his lips, his eyes fixed on and reflecting the sparkling sugar that coated his crust and sat delicately atop his glaze. Both made by his own hands.  

“Well, I think it would be more than appropriate if we invited you to stay for dinner and tea,” Simeon said, starting to open some of the cabinets, “By some twist of fate, I had gotten some new tea blends while I was out and they just so happened to remind me of you. Consider it my thanks for being such a wonderful influence in Luke’s life.”

Simeon’s views were changed by his own experiences. He was aware just as much as Barbatos was how it could hurt him later. They both knew that Simeon should be keeping Luke farther away from Barbatos to keep a powerful select few in The Celestial Real happy. They both knew that they would question Simeon and his suitability as a guardian further. They would question where his loyalties lied. 

 Yet here they both were, creating and shaping the future of another in tandem.

Their actions would have irreversible consequences, for Luke would never forget the silent lessons they taught nor the experiences they shared.

Every decision, every minute singular act, was one of irreversible creation. Not even Barbatos was yet sure what their rebellion would birth.  

Perhaps this outing wasn’t as much of a cursed punishment as much as he had believed. 

Perhaps this was one of those set moments in time that would forever impact the future.

“I would be more than delighted.”