#And has said PRECISELY the words ''Yes my Lord'' which fucking ended me

[blueeco-aurath]

If I had a nickel for every time I fell for;

A cat-obsessed demon

A demon associated with crows

A stoic dark-haired demon with red eyes who is strict but charming

I would have... Four nickels. Which isn't a lot but it's weird how this has happened.

[thatdesklamp]

WAIT OMG-

been reading intrinsic warmth for a WHILE and your writing is top tier!! i always wondered to myself every time i’d read a chapter why the writing just STICKS, yk? i’m a MAJOR book girlie, i read 24/7.

AND THEN IMAGINE MY SURPRISE WHEN I READ ONE OF YOUR TAGS THAT YOU PUT UP ON ONE OF YOUR POSTS WHERE YOU WERE ANSWERING A QUESTION FROM ANOTHER LOVELY READER AND I SEE THAT YOU TOOK AN ENGLISH A LEVEL?

first of all (not 100% sure on this) but i’m pretty sure only british ppl take gcses, a levels, etc. YOU’RE BRITISH?

i feel like i’ve met my other half rn over something so tiny but yeah. IT LITERALLY EXPLAINS WHY YOUR WRITING IS SO GOOD:

i could point out the NUMBER of times i’ve seen juxtaposition, symbolism, foreshadowing in your fic to someone if they’d asked me to point it out for them. at first i thought you might’ve done it unknowingly, and then i decided that nope, bc foreshadowing is such a BIG writing technique that it simply couldn’t have been by accident.

it’s one thing to know about a writing technique and another to actually be able to SUCCESSFULLY incorporate it into your writing. if it isn’t clear enough, i’m saying that you did it AMAZINGLY. you’ve got a natural talent and i’m envioussss (in a supporting way ofc 😭).

you should really look into making your own book, and i think you EXCEL at the supernatural aspect of plot in stories. your writing is so unique and different yet so warm, it reminds me of autumn (my favourite season).

idk how to end such a long message, ultimately i don’t have a reason for typing this up and shit. ik you have tons of people probably saying the same thing and it might just get repetitive for you, but i wouldn’t feel comfortable not being part of said bunch-of-ppl-probably-saying-the-same-thing.

oh! and take your SWEET TIME updating. it’s your story, your fic, your writing. the ONLY thing we readers can give you as a payback and thanks is time, patience, and understanding <3333

RAHHH BRITTANIA 💪💪💪💪

Agh. Yes—I’m British (English to be precise, sweet sweet caroline etc), hence the use of ‘u’s in words like ‘colour’ and ‘humour’, and also why everyone’s parents are their ‘father’ or ‘mother’ and not mum/dad. ‘Mom’ feels too American but ‘mum’ feels too rah engerland, yk? I’ve mentioned previously that I’m looking forward to writing fics where the characters are actually from England and where I’m actually allowed to write them the way I talk, mostly. Good lord am I excited.

And yes lol I took English for an A-Level. Bloody smashed it too, if I get to brag, mwahaha. Didn’t take it any further (I’ve also previously said that I’m a # woman in stem uni student, which is true), but I still write a killer essay imo. Give me 10 minutes to do a refresher on ‘Othello’ (it’s been a while okay) and I can talk for donkeys about his tragic fall and how much of a wanker he is. Which he is! I’m a Desdemona defender for life.

You say ‘natural talent’. PLS. No!! God no. Not at all. I wish—that would’ve made it a lot easier, but whatever I can do rn is down to bloody years of toiling away on my shitty little laptop, I promise. I’ve got another anon ask that asked about some writing tips so I’ll do the bulk of them there but my number 1 will always and forever be to practise. Whatever skill I have now has been earned over the many years. You don’t even want to see some of the stuff that will never grace my ao3 page (atla had me in a chokehold through covid and I have never been the same).

But you are genuinely so complimentary: this is so so lovely of you. Thank you?? It’s really weird being someone who writes and also someone who enjoys analysing literature; you’re right, half of the ‘techniques’ are intentional (the number of times I’ve flicked through some chapters’ drafts and thought, ‘fucks sake none of this makes sense, I need to add some decent foreshadowing or none of this will make sense in two chapters’), but also so much of my writing is just thinking, ‘hmm, this doesn’t really feel right. No no, I don’t like the vibe of this. I want this to feel more GRAAHHH and less lalalala. Lemme change this up a bit’. Whether that leads to the whole, short sentences->speeds up the pace of the reader when reading the section->increased tension, mimics actual fight encounter, etc etc (all the stuff you blag on about in eng lit), then maybe that counts as intentional? And maybe not.

Making my own book? That’s lovely of you to say but I also really don’t have any ideas for anything non-fanfic’y! Lol. I love a good bit of canon compliance, that’s my issue. That being said—hey, another eng a level reference—I’ve made multiple references here to being the world’s #1 ‘Atonement’ hater. Unfortunately, it also lives damn rent free in my head and I’ve got the bare bones of a WW2-era, perhaps epistolary, longform fic buzzing around. (Fandom: Marauders. I’m a disgrace but here we go). I’ve written nothing for it and maybe I never will, but that’s one of the only things I can see as being more standalone from original canon. Anyway: it’s the fanfic life for me. Ali Hazelwood’s life is but a distant dream.

But anyway! Thank you again for your lovely words. The next IW chapter will take a very long time, I have to be frank, so thank you for the reassurance that that’s not absolutely disgraceful lmao T_T Thanks again!! <3

[joestarwhore]

NSFW Yandere Josuke (18+) x Female reader

his little darling managed to escape her obsessive and derange boyfriend house while he was gone.

She trys to get help and does but the good samaritan is Jotaro who leads her back to Josuke thinking she was over reacting.

Josuke angry she escape he takes her back home and has idea to keep her safe and home by finally putting a ring on her

Like The Ocean Finds The Shore (NSFW 18+)

Authors Note: 18+ ONLY. if you’re a minor please find another blog, this writings and scripts are not written for your audience. thank you bb!

You didn’t know what made it worse. The tears in your eyes? Or maybe it was the pouring rain in the pitch black night; never the less, you were barely able to make out where you were, much less which direction you were going. The muscles in your body screamed for relief, the gashes angrily stinging against the rain, pushing you to run far, far away from the house that became your personal Hell.

Anywhere was better than being with him.

Your legs burned as you pushed yourself down the hill, gaining as much distance as you could away from Josuke. You couldn’t help to think of the events that led to this; gaining a stand from Keijo, meeting Koichi in odd circumstances, all the tiny little interactions that led to you accidentally tripping over a brick. Right into Josuke’s unmoving backside.

The thunder was incredibly deafening, lighting up the city of Morioh below you. You didn’t know if Josuke had discovered your absence yet, but you knew you had to be far away from him when he did. You knew it was just a matter of time.

Suddenly the grass became concrete, and concrete became asphalt. Relief flooded through you as you realized that you had finally made it into city limits. You looked around for any sign of safety you could take, your sights finally landing on the Grand Morioh Hotel.

‘Oh my god, Jotaro!’ You started sprinting towards the doors, bypassing any on looker or someone saying any comment to you, all you cared about was finding the receptionist and finding Jotaro. You ran down the hall to the Plaza, seeing the nice attendant lady who always seemed to be the one working for the desk. As soon as she saw you approach, her smile went from one of welcome to a grimace of worry. “Oh my word sweetie, are you okay?? Do you need any help??”

You leaned on the desk for a second to catch your breath. “Actually.. yes there is something.. you could do..”, you took a deep breath, “can you tell me what room Jotaro Kujo is in? We’re related & we have a family member in the hospital and it’s imperative that I fill him in on what’s going on.” Not the best lie you’ve ever told but at this point, you couldn’t afford to be precise. The desk attendant nodded with assured hums, “Yes honey of course, give me just one second.”

You breathed in relief. Thank God. Josuke definitely knew by now that you were gone, & would absolutely be searching for you. Finding Jotaro gave you a little hope for safety but even still; Josuke was relentless.

“Okay darlin, 8th floor, 6th suite, it’ll be the one at the very end!!” Relief swept over you as you quickly expressed your thanks, sprinting up the stairs towards your destination. ‘This is utterly insane’ you thought to yourself; you were running from your deranged boyfriend to his nephew that’s a decade older than he is. Your clothes were torn, wet, your skin was bruised and bleeding out, a state of being you weren’t familiar with.

The raw emotion you felt as you reach Jotaro’s door can only be described as a broken hallelujah. You banged on his door as hard as you can, not stopping until Jotaros towering frame swung the door open.

“(Y/N)? What are you doing here?” His stone cold expression seemed to always be unwavering, but at the sight of you his eyes betrayed him. “What the hell happened to you?” You tried to speak, but no words came out, simply emotion ridden gasps between sobs. Jotaro took your arm and led you in, showing you to a seat by the fireplace & brought you a hot mug of coffee. You gave him a grateful look as you took the cup, Jotaro taking the seat in front of you with a first aid kit. “What happened to you?? Is this from an enemy stand user?”

You couldn’t help but give a lifeless giggle. Certainly felt like it, didn’t it?

Jotaro let you sit in silence for a second while he cleaned the wounds gracing your arms & face, carefully watching your facial expression for any sign of emotion, anything to hint at what might be going on. You didn’t even know where to start in explaining it, or even a way to explain how this happened.

Jotaro took your chin in his hand and turned your face towards his. “(Y/N), who did this to you?” The concern in his eyes made you feel the most cared about you’ve been in months. If you could tell anyone, it’d be Jotaro.. right?”

“It.. it’s Josuke.. When we started dating he was so good to me, he was charming & caring, he’d take time out of his day to spend time with me & would make sure i felt his love; but his actions just.. escalated. He was everywhere. He would text me throughout the day about what i was doing, saying certain comments about my outfits or what stores i was in, he ALWAYS knew.” Jotaro listened intently as he wrapped your forearm in gauze, giving you a nod it was okay to keep proceeding with what you were saying. “All of a sudden one day my land lord calls me to let me know that I was being evicted out of nowhere and i had 24 hours to leave. The same day, Josuke signed the deed to his Mom’s house & told me I could live with him. I just thought it was a crazy coincidence, I didn’t think Josuke would actually ever get me evicted. Then i found my land lords phone number in his pocket book. When I asked him about it he pretended like he didn’t know, and when i kept asking he..” The memory of him holding you against the wall, his knee putting pressure onto your slit, made you visibly cringe. The way he touched you.. it was so possessive, so needy, his eyes portraying one visible message. ‘I own you.’

Jotaro closed the first aid kit & put it under the seat he was at, a pack of pills in his hand. Jotaro silently put the two pills in your hand & got you a glass of water. “I’m sorry you’re going through this & I’m sorry you’ve been hurt so badly. The pills are a sleeping pill & a pain relief supplement, take those and you can sleep in my bed. I’ll handle everything in the morning.” You looked at the two white pills in your hand & threw them to the back of your throat, quickly chasing them with the glass of water he gave you. Jotaro gave you a pair of pajama pants and a t shirt, and helped you lay in the bed. “Goodnight, (Y/N). I’ll see you in the morning.”

You don’t remember anything past that.

__________________________________

When you woke in the morning, you were blinded by direct sunlight. You squinted your eyes as tight as you could, noticing that you were being held up my two arms that were walking at a brisk pace. Gently adjusting your eyes to open, you looked up to see Jotaro, a determined glare in his eyes.

“J..Jotaro where are we?” you whispered the best you could manage. Jotaro gave you a glance down before returning his eyes to the path.

“I called Josuke.”, Your heart drops into your stomach. He wouldn’t.. he couldn’t.. “He says you lost your apartment because your anti psychotics put you out of a job, & he had your landlords number to pay your moving out fees for you.”

You shook your head in disbelief, “No, no no no Jotaro that’s a lie, i’m not on anti-psychotics, I don’t have any sort of med like that, he’s fucking lying to you!!”

Jotaro gave you an expectant look. “That’s the other thing Josuke said. You’ve been flushing them down the drain instead of taking them like you’re supposed to. Josuke only wants to take care of you, (Y/N). There’s nothing to fear of him.”

“JOTARO, I HAVE NEVER TAKEN THOSE PILLS IN MY LIFE AND YOU FUCKING KNOW”- You saw a giant purple hand come over your face and cover your mouth, restraining you from saying anymore. “I’m sorry (Y/N), but this is what’s best for you.”

You heard a door in the distance open, and Jotaro looking up and locking eyes with someone. The voice you heard next made your spine freeze, and dread pierce your soul.

“Jotaro!! Thank you SO much for bringing (Y/N) back!!”

No.. Not again..

“Not a problem Josuke, i’d rather have assurance of (Y/N)‘s safety myself then just send her back here on a bus.”

You slowly looked over, finally catching sight of your boyfriend. His tall, muscular form loomed dangerously in the door way of his house, his pompadour reminding you of so many events, so many violations of your body..

God its sick that it was making you wet.

Jotaro set you on your feet in front of josuke, letting Star Platinums hand uncover your mouth.

You couldn’t look at him.

Josukes hand ran through your hair, “(Y/N) is all okay now that she’s here with me.” He put his other hand under your chin, lifting to meet you eye to eye. It was everything you remembered. Lust, anger, relief, and above all else: obsession.

Jotaro and Josuke bid their farewells. Hands on your hips steered you into the living room, Josuke gently closing the door behind you. You could feel his eyes bore into the back of your skull, your mind erratic with anxiety. God, what’s he gonna do??

“Y’know, you didnt have to run away. You didn’t have to leave me. You didn’t have to be SO FUCKING UNGRATEFUL.” Josuke threw a chair at the wall in front of you, the force of it making you fall backwards onto your back. You gasped as your back collided with the floor, seeing Josukes towering frame turning towards you. He kneels down straddling you, the obsession of his eyes terrifying as he wrapped his long fingers around your throat. Adrenaline went straight between your legs.

“I do everything for you, (Y/N). I house you. I feed you. I FUCKING TAKE CARE OF YOU.” Josuke ripped apart your shirt, shoving his knee on your hot slit, making you gasp in surprise. Josukes delicate features possess a hunger that you remember all too well. “I also make you feel good don’t i??” He removed one of his hands from your throat to attack your nipple with, making you arch your back & moan. Josuke bit his lip in ecstasy as he shoved his middle finger down your slit, swirling it around in your hot heat. Josukes mouth rested against your temple as you gasped in pleasure, sickly wanting him to just take you then & there.

Josuke slowed down his finger, gently massaging your clit at a comfortable pace. “I’m sorry if it was because you felt unloved. If that’s the case, I really promise to be better. Because you can’t leave me, (Y/N). You’re mine, my little princess, my sweet baby girl,” His fingers started to assault you again. You heard a zipper get tugged town, and Josukes hips sweetly grind against yours. “My little fucking slut.”

You started to panic as you felt the tip of his rock hard cock press against your heat, your adrenaline skyrocketing. He’s delirious. “JoJo honey please, d-dont make me do this i’m so fucking sc-“

Josukes hand slapped your cheek, making you yelp in pain, quickly resulting in your moth being covered once again. “No, you don’t get a say. You were a bad girl, baby. And bad girls-“

Your scream was strained as he bottomed out his 8 inch cock inside you. “-they get punished.”

Josuke rammed inside of you, yourself being pummeled into the floor as he chanted “Mine, mine, mine, -FUCK-, MINE!!” His dick assaults your G-Spot as you felt an orgasm start to build in your stomach.

“Are you gonna cum baby? Does my little fuckinf slut want to cum??” Josuke slapped your clit. “TELL ME WHO OWNS YOU.”

Pleasure overruled the mine on this one. “It’s you baby! It’s always been you and it always will, I promise I’ll never leave you again just-“ you squealed as you felt your build up about to break. “PLEASE LET ME CUM JOSUKE PLEASE!!”

“Uggh FUCK, cum on my fucking cock (Y/N) show me who OWNS you.” Josukes duet of lust and rage amplified as you exploded all over him, your moans and screams sounding like siren calls to himself. Josuke rutted into you, filling you to the brim with himself. He laid himself by you, wrapping his arms around your overstimulated frame. You laid there for a couple of minutes trying to catch your breath, your heart rate soaring. You could hear Josukes soft giggles beside you as you felt a hand caress your cheek. You looked him into his eyes, seeing the unconditional love and obsession. The never ending love and obsession.

Josuke sweetly kisses your cheek, holding you in his arms as he gently picks up your left hand. You felt a cold circle of metal grace your ring finger, slipping on perfectly. Fear gripped your heart as you realized what it was.

“My pretty baby.. my gorgeous doll,” Josuke rolled ontop of you and held your face in his hands. “This will make sure we’re always together. You & me, husband and wife!! My perfect, beautiful, fuckable wife..”

Tears started to slide down your face.

So, this was defeat.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N), will you be my wife?”

You looked at the alabaster ceiling. This wasn’t possible for you. This couldn’t be happening. But you knew it was.

“Yes.. Josuke. I’ll marry you.”

Josuke gleamed as he smothered you with kisses and sweet nothings, giving you gentle touches as his lips grazed over your ears to say the only thing that comes out of his mouth: poison.

“I’ll always find you, baby doll.”

“Like the ocean meets the shore- I will always find you.”

——————————-

I REALLY HOPE YOU LIKE IT & KEEP REQUESTING ALL YALL WANT!! TYSM!! 🤍🌿✨🌸👄🍌🌩

[daddyloveslabor]

James and Little

James stood directly in front of his Little, close enough that he could breathe in her scent, but he didn’t touch her just yet. He studied her face and her eyes. He knew them so well by this point. And this was the point. The one where his expertise of her face and eyes would alert him immediately to any signal from her, subdued or otherwise. Any misgivings whatsoever that she may have about what was about to happen to her, what was in store for her...he would see them.

She had been flawlessly obedient, always, save the small buckish provocation here and there when she desired extra correcting. And she never failed to know when *he* desired to more thoroughly correct her. She had always, truly, anticipated him at every turn.

She was perfect for him. He didn’t want to change a hair on her head, except in this one way. In this enormous, incredible way that in actuality was a thousand ways. The way that would change her irrevocably and indelibly.

He loved her precisely as she was. And it was because he loved her that he wanted to reconstruct her, just so. He throbbed with the need to observe, and then absorb, every single moment of her enduring and taking and suffering as she navigated the long transformation ahead of her. That’s what she did so, so well, after all. She endured. And she took it, everything he meted out to her, whether in tenderness or in sternness. She took it each and every time, with a grace and submission that endeared her to him harder and further every time he dominated her.

He wanted to witness every. Single. Second. As she morphed inexorably from the fruits his actions tonight would bring to bear upon her. He knew he was going to lose sleep in the months ahead, in an attempt to miss as little as possible.

Those eyes of hers. They were looking unflinchingly into his. Awaiting his encouragement and his instruction. They shone with a trust so pure and so fierce (and so devoid of shame, he realized, as his heart contracted in his chest) that the pact he had made with himself when it came to her - to protect her and cherish her at all costs - was reinforced tenfold.

He leaned in to smell her neck and she tilted back her head to give him better access. As he inhaled deeply, he ran his nose up her throat and along her jawline.

In a low growl, he said, “Mmmmm. Yes. That’s it. You’re ready for me, aren’t you?”

Head still tilted back, she replied, “Yes, Daddy. I’m always ready for you. But tonight especially.”

“Hmmm, that’s right. Your timing, as always, Little One, is fucking perfection. You smell...ripe.”

“I am. I made sure of it. I’m ready to receive.” She gave him a coy wink.

He couldn’t help but smile slightly. Her sense of humor, God damn. He would never stop thanking the Good Lord that he was given someone who would kneel down and suck him whenever he ordered...and that was funnier than anyone else he’d ever met.

When it was appropriate, of course. She never failed him in that regard either. She knew when it was time for her to shut her mouth.

“Good.” He took another long sniff along her collarbone and then backed away from her 3 paces.

He crossed his arms over his chest. She reflexively folded her arms behind her back and openly met his gaze.

Tripling down on his effort to ensure he didn’t miss even the most miniscule reflex in her eyes and her face as he spoke, he said, “The time has come, my Darling One. Tonight is the night.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“You are ready, yes?”

“Indeed I am, Sir.”

“What are you ready for, Love? Say it. What happens tonight?”

She shook her hair slightly and said firmly, “Tonight is the night you knock me up.”

He frowned. “Say it better.”

“Yes, Sir. Tonight is the night you fill me up. In every way. With your love, with your cock, and with your seed. You are going to bring me near to bursting in each regard.”

“Good girl. You’re going to be the home to my baby for the next ten months, isn’t that right?”

She licked her lips. “Yes, Sir. I am honored to carry your baby.”

He saw her eyes flash. But only in that “stop fucking teasing me and get on with it” way that he had come to know and love so well.

She suffered so gorgeously.

He forced another frown. “Mmm. Say that better.”

A microscopic smile. “Very well. As you wish. Sir?”

He raised an eyebrow at her and gestured for her to continue.

“Sir, I wish for you to fuck me tonight. Hard. I want to be sore tomorrow. And as I am, I want to be reminded that that soreness is nothing, nothing compared to what is waiting for me, because tonight you are going to put your baby inside me. And I promise I will let it grow and grow and grow, making me big and uncomfortable, all while you guide me and assist me and chastise me as needed.”

James’s throat had thickened and his cock had stiffened listening to her. “Yes, Love. I’m going to make you big. So very, very big. How big do I want you to be?”

“Very,” she replied, knowing full well what he wanted her to say and drawing it out.

“How big, Sarah? How big does Daddy want you? Say it.”

“You want me so big that I can hardly walk.”

“Mmm, that’s exactly, exactly right. I want you so stuffed I’ll have to help you stand up.”

“I want that too,” she breathed.

“Of course you do. It’s in your nature. And ohhhh, Baby. My sweet, sweet girl. It’s going to hurt you.”

“Yes.”

“You’re going to take it for me, though, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

He closed in on her the 3 paces he had taken back prior. He placed his hand on her stomach.

“Oh, my Little. This flat, flat belly of yours. Once my baby has taken residence there, it’s going to start growing. And each and every day this nice flat belly is going to get a little rounder. A little heavier. A little harder.” He rubbed his thumb over her belly button and sighed with longing.

“Eventually your skin is going to be stretched so taut it will feel like a drum. It will hurt. Your belly button may pop out of your belly completely. Your back will ache more and more. Even so, as you begin to support your back with your hands, you will realize you still have weeks left to go, more pressure and strain compounding with each passing day.” He rested his hands on her waist and stroked her back with his fingers.

Moving his hands to her hip bones, he said, “Your hips will separate and throb. You will be so, so uncomfortable at night that sleeping will become difficult. Your gait will change as these hips spread out, making room to cradle my baby’s hard and heavy head deep inside the bones of your pelvis. You will have trouble getting out of bed and out of chairs. You will waddle, perhaps. And I will adore you.”

His hands slid up her sides and cupped her breasts. He worked her nipples with his thumbs and they hardened under his touch. She arched her back slightly, moving her breasts more fully into his large, warm hands. “Your breasts will become enlarged and sharply tender. I must admit to a ravenous curiosity there. How can perfection be improved upon? I will see, I am so sure.”

She smiled. “Thank you.”

Both his hands moved back down. “But this belly. Oh my dear, this belly. It will be massive. When you are nearing the end, you will find yourself holding it with both of your hands, seeking a few seconds of relief from the interminable, burdensome drag of it on your body. And you, no matter how weary, will carry it until I say it’s enough time. Understood?”

Her breath had become shaky. “Yes, Daddy. I understand. I will grow your baby so well for you, and I will take whatever pain and discomfort comes with it. I want to be so huge for you.”

He could see the pinkness in her cheeks. “And you know I will see to you like never before. Isn’t that right?”

“I do, Daddy.”

“Mmm. If you are sick, Babe, I will hold your hair back for you and wipe the sweat from your face. If at first you are drained and fatigued, I shall provide you the most comfortable accommodations available, so your rest is undisturbed and restorative. When you are in your second trimester and lusty as hell, I will eat you every night and day, sucking that delicious clit of yours and giving you the sweetest orgasms of your life. I will take you from behind when you grow too big for me to take you from the front, and I will satisfy your swollen, tender, juicy pussy with my cock while I caress your giant belly. And I won’t allow you to relax; you’re going to have to hold your hefty self up on all fours until I release you.”

She sucked in her breath. “I promise; I won’t relax, no matter how tiring it is for me to support my extra weight while you plunge into me. Only when you say.”

“When your feet are aching and worn, Daddy will massage them for you, Sweetheart. When your back is killing you, Daddy will knead it and rub it and smoothe out all that tension you build up from getting bigger and bigger. Daddy will rub oil into your sweet, tight belly so your skin can stretch and stretch and stretch. Daddy will feed you when you’re hungry, all that you want, but only what’s good for you and my baby.”

“Yes, Daddy. Of course. You are so good to me.”

“I am. I will care for your aches and your hurts with more love and attention than ever before. Because you know I crave them. Yes?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“I want to know them all. Every one. No matter how minor each one may seem to you. No matter if I am sleeping or if I am away. Which I won’t be, much. They are mine to have and hold dear, and to soothe as I see fit. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir. I will keep nothing from you, nothing. I will report every twinge.”

“Good girl.” He stood back from her 3 paces again and she, once again, placed her arms behind her back dutifully.

“Sweetheart. When I am punishing you, what happens when you say our special word?”

“You stop.”

“Mmm hmm. Immediately, yes?”

“Every time. Sometimes before the word is even past my lips.”

“That’s right, Honey. You know - you have always known - that while I may correct and punish you, you have the true control over what I do to you. You have all the power of our special word in your mouth.”

“I do, Sir. And you know that I only use it when I genuinely cannot take any more.”

“Oh yes I do, my little one. I know that. But you see….well. What must happen when you are swelled so large and stretched so tight? When your little pelvis has loosened just enough, and my baby is ready to enter this world through you? What must you do? Say it.”

“I must give birth.”

“Yes. You must. Your many, long days of growing and nourishing my baby must come to an end sometime, as they have in every pregnancy before yours. And then, honey. And then...my baby must come out of you. And that, Sweetheart, is not a process I will have any say or part in. Were it up to me, I might choose to keep you knocked up and enormous and tight-bellied and awkward and hungry and aching forever. But it is not up to me. A higher authority than I will call upon you, and you will be unable to refuse Her. I will not be your Master while you culminate your greatest work, and endure your toughest punishment. Mother Nature will be your Mistress. And Mother Nature, for reasons known only to Her, chooses to punish her daughters with notorious cruelty. Do you understand?”

Sarah’s tongue flicked rapidly over her lips. Her breathing was coming in little hitches. “I understand. I will take it.”

“Yes. You will. But not from me. The power to dole out your pain and relief will be completely out of my hands this time. Your body will be taken over, Darling, by a force that is you but that is also much, much greater than you. Even if I should desire to provide you a moment’s relief, if only to see it register with you before you are wracked in agony again, I will be unable to do so. This time the power will not be mine….or yours. You will succumb to Her and only Her, the ultimate dominatrix, whether you find yourself willing and ready or not. She honors no safe words. Do you understand?”

“I understand. I will suffer.”

“Yes. Oh my dear one, you will suffer terribly. You will tense, perhaps just occasionally at first. Your giant, heaving belly will tighten again and again and again; you will lose count within just a few hours. You will strain and you will struggle. You will moan. Your throat will grow hoarse and your lips will become dry and cracked from your frantic breathing and your cries. You will writhe. Your valiant perseverance through all this will be rewarded only with more brutal and ruthless pain. The wrenchings of your heavy belly will only grow more and more excruciating, a vice that will grip you relentlessly and repeatedly. As they hurt you more, they also will grow longer and will peak harder, and you will get to the point where you will not get much of a break between them, if any at all. Time will stop for you.”

He studied her face and her eyes intensely. He saw resolve and fire. She never could resist a dare. But what he sought most urgently - and found - was the markings of her suppressed arousal.

“You take things so well from me, Honey. You know how I love to hear you beg me and plead with me, yet I can count on one hand the times you have used our special word. When you truly had taken all you could take. But my dear one, when your time comes, all the imploring you have in you will do you no good. There will be no special word. You will be well, well past the point where you thought you could take no more, and then you will be there again. And again. You will take more. She will make you. You may weep and beseech Her for mercy, and She will not only deny you, She will punish you all the harder. You will realize - perhaps 100 times - how much worse it must be before it is better. The only way out, Sweetheart, will be through.”

He reached down to adjust himself and her eyes flicked down and saw the momentary pressure he put on his bulk. He was rock hard, she could see it plainly, and she felt a response instantly, a clenching in her groin as heat pooled in her crotch.

“And Baby. For the inestimable duration of your travail, so torturous for you, all I will be able to do is watch. Watch the slow escalation as you are first so mercilessly squeezed...and then merely observe as you yourself are forced to participate in your own rending. As you anguish and push and stretch impossibly to initiate my baby into this world through your waters, your own initiation into motherhood will be by fire. The Ring of Fire, perhaps the most apt name on earth. All this will be there for me to behold, but there is no part of it I can take for you or away from you. Oh I will be there for you, Sweetness, in any capacity I am able to be. My presence, my touch, my voice, Honey….these things may offer you a paltry comfort, but make no mistake. Where you must go, I cannot follow. There will be no making it go away. There will be no making it stop. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“For my part, I must be content with being a witness only.”

He rubbed himself briefly through his pants again. With his other hand, he hooked his knuckle into the soft flesh beneath her chin bone and moved her so her eyes met his directly. “And I will glory at each fresh and unheralded wave of exquisite agony that twists and contorts your lovely face.”

Sarah puffed out a small breath between her lips. She was pulsing between her legs. God in heaven, hearing him speak to her this way was about to make her climax just standing there. She opened her stance slightly. He saw. Of course he did. He always saw. And the mischievousness of the devil himself sparked in his eyes.

She cleared her throat. “Sir?”

“Yes.”

“If I do this for you, will it - “

“Specifics, Little One. You know I despise ambiguity. If you do what for me? Say it.”

“I’m sorry, Sir. I do know that. Your pardon?”

He nodded.

“Sir, if I develop and sustain your baby in my belly for 40 long weeks, and then labor hard to push him out of me, all by myself...will it make you proud of me?”

His face almost softened. “You have no idea. Sweetheart, I will worship you.”

“Then that is merely the cherry on top, Sir. I’ve already decided.”

“Good girl. And, as discussed, unless you or my baby are in danger, the birth will take place here. I and I alone will attend to your needs. There will be no pain relief, outside of what I can provide. Say it.”

“Yes, Sir. When my appointment time with Great Mother comes -”

His head went back in a silent laugh. “By all means, continue.”

“When Great Mother calls me forth for my supreme punishment, only you will be with me. If my torment can be soothed at all, it will be by you.”

He closed the 3 paces of space between them, enveloped her in his arms, and kissed the top of her precious head. “You are the bravest creature I’ve ever met, you know.”

“I know.”

[mavda]

Beast Tamers

Ch.1 |  Ch.2 | Ch.3 | Ch.4(1) | Ch.4(2) | Ch.5(1) | Ch.5(2) | Ch.5(3) | Ch.5(4) | Ch.6(1) | Ch.6(2) | Ch.6(3) | Ch.7(1) | Ch.7(2) | Ch.7(3) | Ch.7(4) | Ch.7(5) | Ch.8(1) | Ch.8(2) | Ch.8(3) | Ch.9(1) | Ch.9(2) | Ch.9(3) | Ch.9(4) | Ch.10(1) | Ch.10(2) | Ch.10(3) | Ch.10(4) | Ch.10(5) |

Ch.10: The Two-Tails (6)

Nothing happens. 

    And Naruto and his retinue wake up to Sai pacing the room and no news about anything. A calm, quiet night with nothing suspicious in sight. 

    Somehow this makes Naruto hopeful that the Two-Tails is innocent, although his guards shake their heads and look confused about this growing calm environment. Shino and Ino take their time as they get ready, making sure that their surveillance doesn't show anything out of the ordinary. Sai only lets his guard drop when his teammates give him the green light to do so.

Naruto takes his time with his morning meditation and lays his chakra as thin as possible around himself. The whole process is faster now, and his control grows with each passing day, but the task is tedious.

He has made himself hyper aware of whatever touches his chakra as a means to make the time he spends doing this more tolerable, which is why he makes sure there is nothing threatening around them when he comes to his senses in their room. 

Shino brings him a plate of food the moment Naruto finishes his practice. He had thought his concentration had grown stronger as they made their way to this place, as it seemed that he wouldn’t catch neither conversation nor major movements around him. 

And yes, he was better at tuning out things in his close vicinity. But most of it just came down to his guards not wanting to interrupt his meditation. 

“You guys know you can talk to me or whatever to make me eat.”

Shino sits again and the last of his food keeps disappearing behind his high-collared jacket. “The lord’s meditation is important.”

“Yeah, sure, but I also have to get better at catching people getting close to me, right?”

“Why?” asks Sai, his question directed at Naruto yet his whole body turned to the window, his plate in hand, “we would never let an enemy get close to the lord.”

“And your meditation is important, my lord,” Ino adds. 

“You are… not wrong,” Naruto stares at Ino, trying to gauge her disposition to explain what he wants to say. But she seems as adamant as the other to let him meditate without trouble. 

“Lord Jiraiya has always said that meditation is one of the best things you can do for your body, my lord,” Ino continues, her eyes bright and full of passion, “if our part is protecting you then please allow us that privilege.”

Naruto thinks for a whole second that this is a joke. Or not a joke, but goodwill pulled to the extreme. Until Ino keeps staring at him with a serious face and no one else seems to want to add to her words. Naruto shakes his head and can’t help the snort that leaves his mouth as the realization hits him.

They really care about him. 

•····························•····························•

Naruto stares off into the distance as the Two-Tails falls into another long discussion regarding the current situation with the Four-Tails. His chakra surrounds him and the room they are in, a task that keeps him from zoning out too much.

    He can feel Gaara’s eyes on him every now and then, but they can’t do anything without raising the suspicion of the other Beast Tamers present, so Naruto keeps his head down. 

    “Wouldn’t you agree, Nine-Tails?” 

    The Two-Tails and the Four-Tails talk at length, but they make sure to bring into the conversation either Naruto or Gaara after a long bout. A mix of interest in their opinions and wanting to find them slacking off, Naruto thinks. 

    But he’s listening. If there is something he has learned to do exceptionally well throughout his years as clan leader is zone out but just enough. Let your mind wander but still catch everything that’s being said. 

“Sure,” Naruto answers, “though I’m more of the mind of searching for them, you know.”

The Two-Tails stares and the Four-Tails scoffs. “Now?” he mocks, “even if we began searching now, I doubt we could find anything after months have passed, don’t you think?”

Naruto tries to keep himself from being an asshole. That mainly entails him keeping quiet most of the time, but when he’s pushed like this. Not even his father could fault him, right?

“Oh, I’m sorry, I was facing an attack that forcefully tampered with my seal, as you are well aware. What were you doing, though? Aside from clinging to life, I mean.”

    The Four-Tails smirks, his canines showing through. His wrinkled face contorts and a coughing fit follows. The Two-Tails gives Naruto a look, as if he somehow triggered the condition on the old man.

    “So you are of the mind to eliminate the enemy?” The Two-Tails asks.

    The Four-Tails’ guard brings a glass of water to the old man, who grabs it with unsteady hands. 

    “Of course I am.”

    “And yet you closed off your whole clan when we could have made a counterattack.”

    “Excuse me? A counterattack with whom? Your seal was settling down and this old man was allegedly dead!”

    The Two-Tails frowns, slightly taken aback. “Well, you were available, weren’t you?”

    “I was down for a while, you know that.”

    “Yeah,” she drags the word, and her suspicion drips from her tone, "though one would argue the Nine-Tails would be enough to take care of such a nuisance."

"If I had been unscathed then maybe, if our enemy didn't have in their repertoire making us go haywire and unable to control our Beasts then even more so, but that's not the case, is it?" 

Her eyes squint, and Naruto realizes she's still trying to find fault in them. To find who's in it with the Uchiha, or whatever enemy is out there. 

It's a flinch. A disturbance in his laid out chakra he barely notices. A prick that makes him glance to the Four-Tails. And his heart is gripped by surprise. 

His guard is under an illusion. Precisely cast and barely noticeable. And if not for his surge of chakra right now Naruto would be none the wiser.

As would be all the other Beast Tamers, it seems.

"Who's that," he growls. 

The Four-Tails keeps on letting his lungs out and the other Beast Tamers look from him to Naruto. 

"The guard's under an illusion."

Sai takes out his short sword and stands between his lord and the Four-Tails.

"Nine-Tails!" Starts the Two-Tails, but her own guard stands her ground and whispers in agreement with Naruto's statement.

The Four-Tails guard does nothing aside from keeping his hands on the old man. Their eyes are locked and Naruto rises from his chair and throws a small dagger towards his direction.

"I said who are you!" He roars and aside from the old man still doubled over and the guard fretting over him, everyone else stands in attention, ready to fight. 

The guard's cloak rustles and as soon as the Four-Tails coughing starts to subside, he raises and stares back at Naruto.

"My lord!" Warns Sai, but Naruto has long kept his own eyes away from the guard.

"Don't look him in the eyes!" He orders, and since no one says anything else he believes they are all on the same page. "You fucking bastard." 

The guard does nothing and the Four-Tails just keeps on working on his breathing. 

"And you had the guts to come and throw complaints our way? You fucking old man."

"His eyes are red," informs Sai. Low enough for only Naruto to hear. "Just like the ones Shikamaru showed us."

"Working with an Uchiha while we are trying to do away with them, huh? The fucking nerve."

"Like you are one to talk," croaks the Four-Tails and Naruto has to keep himself from looking back with murderous intent. “All cuddled up in your compound leaving us all to fend for ourselves, huh?”

“Is that what you kept telling yourself when you accepted their help? I guess death looming over your ass made you a groveling mess.”

    “You insolent-” the Four-Tails’ cough interrupts him and Naruto lets his red chakra cover his body.

    “Whatever, you’re not leaving this place alive.”

    “Nine-Tails!” the Two-Tails stops mid-movement, as she tries to put her thoughts in order, but the One-Tail’s sand is covering the floor and the chakra of the Nine-Tails is sending wave after wave of heat.

    The Four-Tails is working with the enemy. That should be enough, right?

    “Get under cover!”

    “Lady Yugito!”

    The screams surround her and she lets her own chakra surge forward, a barrier that protects her from the Nine-Tails heated chakra. Her eyes search for her guard, knowing that he won’t be able to withstand this surge of power without her protecting him. 

    “Isshin, come here!”

    Naruto sends wave after wave of energy towards the Four-Tails but the guard seems to have been counter attacking them just fine.

    He wants to get up and personal, but knowing that looking the man in the eyes is enough to put him out of commission keeps him rooted where he is. 

    It doesn’t matter whether he is up here or in front of his face, the end result will be the same. His chakra reserves will outweigh them both and Naruto has the time to wait. The chakra around him forms and two tails rustle behind his back.

    A red claw flies to the Four-Tails and the Two-Tails’ scream fills the room the next second.

    Her body doubles over her guard and Naruto can’t help but feel dread in his stomach. 

    “Kankuro don’t look him in the eye either!”

    Naruto hears the guard curse out loud and smirks. Yeah, what an asshole. The steady outpour of chakra gives him a third tail and Naruto accumulates chakra in front of his mouth before sending a blast that sends the Four-Tails and his guard outside. 

    Now they won’t have to worry about collapsing infrastructure.  

    Naruto keeps his eyes on the two men below him, two little people gathering themselves down there. “Hey, Two-Tails, you with me or against me?” 

    She stands at his question, her hands leaving the neck of her guard after finding a pulse. “With you, is he staying back?” she asks, motioning towards Gaara, who stands in between the rubble, his sand surrounding him dancing in the air as it keeps him safe.

    “He is.”

    “Can you take Isshin with you? People will come soon after, you can hand him to them, as soon as my people see me fighting along the Nine-Tails they’ll know who’s the enemy.”

     Gaara doesn’t move, but he nods and his sand envelops the man and drags him towards him. “I understand.”

    “Tell everyone not to look the bastard in the eyes.”

    Naruto jumps before Gaara answers, and the Two-Tails follows after him. Her own chakra transforming into a gigantic claw that drags along the walls. 

    “Just keep your eyes away from the guard.” Naruto steals a last glance at their position before keeping his eyes on the ground. 

    “Roger that.”

    The guard sends their way a fire technique Naruto deflects with a chakra claw. 

    “Oh, you’re gonna need more than that, little guard!”

    The Two-Tails crouches and her chakra looks more and more like an enormous and monstrous cat. Naruto’s own chakra output is ready to let out another tail. 

    “I wonder when he’ll ditch the old man. If his Beast gets free-”

    “Doesn’t matter,” the Two-Tails assures, “he’s a dying man anyways.”

    Her chakra dense and thick, her whole body more like a cat’s than her own. She sprints forward and Naruto lets out a cackle.

    He breathes out, concentrates on his own body and chakra. His muscles tight and contracted. Control over everything. Nothing like that time his seal was tampered with.

    The fourth tail springs forward, the Beast’s chakra surrounds him and tingles all over his body, and the skeleton of the Beast forms. He prefers this form over the one where his body is fully engulfed in dense chakra. He doesn’t know how the Uchiha’s technique will affect his chakra-beast form, seeing as he won’t have as much control over his eyes. 

    He doesn’t have time to put it to the test.

    But it doesn’t matter, because this is enough. 

    The skeleton’s weight is enough to crack the ground it touches and Naruto has to keep himself from jumping and pounding down on the enemy. He runs, the skeleton moving around him and wrecking its surroundings. Another fire technique hits him, but this time he doesn’t need to deflect it, it bounces off his body. 

    The adrenaline pumps inside his body and Naruto revels in this chance he’s been given. “Please, allow me to show you what we’re capable of!”

[halfway-happyyy]

Little Honey

good morning friends! here is a quick lil smutty blurb to get y’all through this fine Wednesday morning. Inspired by this little saucy ask someone sent in:  Anonymous said: God can you imagine the jealousy seeing someone flirt with Alex like in real life? You knew this was apart of the job, apart of his life. But when a costar or interviewer is just shamelessly eye fucking your man in front of you, even after being introduced! Alex is of course the perfect gentleman. He excuses you two because he knows that look on your face. So to calm you both down he takes you in a closet and fucks you senseless 🤪

You could always feel his eyes on you.

It hardly mattered if it was from across a crowded room, or from a glimpse through the foggy bathroom mirror. His gaze had the all-encompassing power of making you feel like the most beautiful girl in the world. And, perhaps to him you were.

“You’re staring at me.” You murmured as you swiped the tapered end of a pink lipstick across your bottom lip.

“Kind of hard not to,” Alexander replied.

You turned to glance at him, pursing your lips together as you did so to make sure the pigment was evenly applied. Tonight, he was clad in a lavish, navy blue suit; a black bowtie peaked out from the crisp, white button up shirt beneath it. His sandy hair was long now; longer than you had ever seen it before and you reveled in the fact that he had no intentions of cutting it any time soon. A beard had made an appearance during quarantine. You had been weary of it at first but thanks to the many times that it had scratched the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, you had around to the idea and now you loved it. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you it was rude to stare?”

Alexander’s slow-growing smile broke into a full grin that made your stomach dip in the most wonderful way. “I’m sure she must have. But if you were seated where I was in this very moment, I imagine you would find yourself in a similar predicament.” He cleared his throat and clocked the watch on his wrist. “Done soon, kid? Our car is here.”

This would be the first time out with Alexander to an event in over a year and you could not contain the sheer excitement of it if you tried. You were elated to finally place faces and personalities to the names that he had spoken so highly of on so many previous occasions. As the vehicle glided to a halt in front of the theatre, Alexander squeezed your hand three times and exited his side to get the door for you on yours. Following him out into the balmy Los Angeles night, you could not help the nerves that had started to dance around in the pit of your belly as cameras flashed before you. No matter how many premiers, or award ceremonies, or other large-scale events you attended… you would never get used to the attention. After posing for a few photos together, and waiting while he had his own taken separately, you made your way into the brightly lit theatre together. Only once inside the comfort of the building did you allow yourself to take a deep, steadying breath. A massive, gilded clock on the wall above you told you that you were still forty-five minutes until show time, and you stole yourself for a round of inevitable introductions. You chatted warmly for a few minutes with the director of the film before he was pulled away in another direction, as promises of “We must trade stories again later!” reached you from above the buzzing crowd.

“Oh, Alex!” A female voice cried loudly, and you turned just in time to watch a woman you had never met before, wrap her arms around him. This was still normal territory for you; women had done worse things to him in your presence. But then she nuzzled her face into the hollow of his neck and sighed heavily and your cheeks instantly grew warm. While Alexander reciprocated the hug, he was unsure of where to put his hands, so he proceeded to awkwardly pat her back.

“Hello, Gianna.” He greeted her warmly and when she broke away from him, her hazel-brown eyes were alight with an intensity you had come to recognize well. Alexander cleared his throat and gestured to you. “There is someone I’d like you to meet,” He moved away from her to wrap a toned arm around your waist. “Gianna- this is my girl.”

She turned to you, the smile in which she had reserved for Alexander wilted only slightly as she took note of your unassuming figure.

“It’s nice to finally put a face to the name Alex has spoken so highly of these past few months.” You smiled and extended a hand towards her which she accepted begrudgingly.

“Isn’t it just?” She replied drily.

Alexander squeezed your hip reassuringly and jutted his chin out toward the direction of the bar. “Well, I will leave you ladies to it, hm? I think I see Tom at the bar- would you like a drink?”

“Yes, surprise me please. And whatever it is, make it a double.”

Alexander nodded his head and pressed a kiss to your temple before vanishing into the crowd.

Gianna watched him disappear and returned her attention to you, a half-empty martini glass clutched in her hand. “He’s so much sexier in reality, isn’t he?”

“I beg your pardon?” You blanched; eyebrows raised in genuine surprise.

“Alex. It’s really quite overwhelming, isn’t it?”

Suddenly you found yourself in awe of the audacity with which this woman possessed. With her flirtations and her impossibly cool cruelty- and the kicker of it all was that she really was simply stunning; you could not deny her that. Long, glossy brunette hair hung in perfect curls down her bare back, and a subtle accent that either belonged to somewhere in Spain or Italy colored her every word and you could easily see the attraction. You cleared your throat and managed a shrug. “Yes well at home, he’s just Alex. Still does the dishes. Still drools in his sleep occasionally. Rather a little boring, really.”

She levelled her gaze with yours and smiled coldly. “That may be less of his problem, and more of yours, no?” Taking a deep breath, you tried to scan the crowd for him. You finally caught sight of his impending figure at the bar across the room, deep in conversation with an older gentleman. She swilled back the rest of her vodka and smiled at you again. It was a Cheshire cat sort of grin that caused an unpleasant batch of goosebumps to rise in patterns on your arms. “You look like you’d like to leave, and I don't blame you, but before you do, I just have one question.”

“And what’s that?” You murmured, already regretting indulging her.

Gianna leaned close enough to you that you could smell the precise scent of the floral perfume on her dainty neck. “Does he fuck as good as he pretends to?”

You swallowed hard and tried to ignore the way your arm vibrated in subtle anticipation of the smack that you so badly ached to deliver to her perfectly highlighted cheek. “Hm. An interesting question indeed. And unfortunately for you, one you will never get to know the answer to.” You turned on a heel and made your way for the bar, grateful for the thickening crowd and the dimmed lighting. Sidling up next to Alexander with a heavy sigh, you caught the eye of the bartender and waved him over. “A Stoli on the rocks with a twist of lemon, please.” You had already taken your first sip when Alexander turned to you, a small frown in place on his features.

“I hadn't quite had time to order your drink yet.”

You gestured to him with your almost empty glass. “Beat you to it, Skarsgård.”

“So, it seems…” He murmured. “You alright, kid?”

You giggled humorlessly; the memory of your most recent conversation fresh in your mind. “You know… I pride myself on being a generally un-jealous partner,”

“I do know that. It's one of the many, many things that endear you to me.”

You lifted your glass in silent cheers. “But that woman back there? What a cunt.”

Alexander's sparkly blue eyes widened in shock. “Gianna?”

“The very same.”

“What did she do?”

You winced a little as the rest of the alcohol singed the back of your throat like smoke. “It's not so much what she did… but what she said.”

He turned to you fully now, brushed a stray piece of hair behind your ear, his gaze intense and utterly penetrating. “Talk to me, tell me what she said.”

You rolled your eyes and gestured with your glass to the bartender for one more. “She carries a torch for you Alex. Badly. And I can handle that…” You shrugged your shoulders. “Lord knows it's just one of the many things I signed up for. But you worked with her side by side for six months. You filmed very… intimate scenes with her. She doesn’t have to reach up on her tiptoes to hug you. I could go on.”

Alexander shook her head. “Kid, she couldn’t hold a candle to you.” He leaned ever closer to you, the heady scent of his cologne caused your mouth to water. “And between you and me, I like that you have to step up onto your tiptoes to hug me.” As he caressed a warm hand to the side of your face, you noticed an imperceptible change in the glimmer of his eyes when he reached for your hand. “Come with me.” His tone left little room for argument, so you downed the rest of your drink in one fell swoop and followed him into the crowd. He wordlessly led you down to a quieter area of the theatre and stopped in front of a women’s washroom. Checking that no one of importance was in sight, he pushed open the door and gestured for you to head in first, which you did. Once inside the privacy of the washroom, Alexander checked each stall to be sure that you were alone. He passed by you moments later to lock the door, an erection growing steadily in the crotch of his pants. Closing the distance to you, he patted the counter twice. “Jump up on here, baby.” Again, you did as you were told. He closed the distance between you, the sheer heat radiating from him caused you to shiver violently. You reached forward to palm the bulge between you, and the urge to have him inside of you was nearly all-consuming. “You feel how hard I am?” He asked, his voice already hoarse. “You can physically feel how badly I want to be inside your pussy right now, hm?” Alexander’s skilled fingers danced teasingly beneath your dress. They moved slowly up your leg, past the rounded curve of your knee, up over the silky softness of your inner thigh. “You know that only you can get me this hard, hm?” His fingers slowed when he realized you had gone panty-less this evening. “Not a single other person can do this to me, baby.” He runs a calloused thumb up over the wetness of your slit, stopping moments later to press firm circles into your clit. “Let’s see how fast I can have you falling apart for me, hm? Gotta be quick, little one.” With no warning, he inserted two thick fingers into your pussy and started pumping at a steady pace, his thumb pressing matching circles into your clit.

“Fuck, Alex…” It had hardly taken a while before he had you seeing stars behind the lids of your closed eyes. You could feel the familiar unraveling of pressure deep in your belly, the telltale signs of an orgasm near completion.

“Oh I know, baby…” Alexander groaned. “I know you’re close. I can feel you clench around my fingers. Now, are you going to come all over those, or are you going to come all over my cock?” You tossed your head back against the mirror with a dull thud, the answer to his question lost to the moan at back of your throat. “I’m just going to decide for you baby, you can’t even form coherent sentences at this point.” He pressed a chaste kiss to the base of your throat and nibbled into the soft flesh there, causing a muted cry to rip from somewhere far away. “Ah, ah, ah… you know the rules.” He whispered sternly. He pulled his fingers from your dripping heat and slid them into his mouth, sucking off everything you had to give him. He then unbuckled his belt and shimmied his boxers halfway down his legs, taking his erect cock into his hands, and jerking if off with the rest of your excess juices. You trembled as he lined himself up against your slick entrance, then wordlessly slid himself in to the hilt. “Christ almighty…” He groaned as he let you adjust to his sheer size. “No one could ever compare to you. Not ever.” You wrapped your legs around his waist as he drew away from you and slammed right back in. “Hold on tight baby, I’m about to wreck this pussy.”

“Oh my god, Alex…” You could feel a scream building at the base of your throat- and he could feel it too because a large hand fixed itself over your mouth as he plowed into you with reckless abandon. The familiar sensation of your approaching orgasm returned, and you could feel yourself clenching around his hard cock. “Alex, I…”

Alexander pressed a finger into your clit as he thrusted into you, the timing and pressure caused lightning bolts of pleasure to explode behind your eyes. “You’re going to come all over this cock right now, aren’t you? Give me a little honey, baby.”

You nodded your head fervently and whimpered loudly as you gave yourself over to the all-encompassing feeling of your orgasm overtaking your body.

“You’re going to take everything I have to give you like a good little girl,” Sweat beaded on his forehead and with a free hand, you reached up to push his sandy hair out of his eyes so that you could get a better look at them when he filled your pussy with his come. His normally bright blue orbs were dark now, his pupils dilated and blown over with unbridled lust.

As he slowed his rhythm down a bit, you could physically feel his cock throb and pulsate inside of you, and you moaned loudly.

He dropped his head to your shoulder and railed into you with such force, you feared momentarily that there might be some damage to the mirror or countertop afterward. “Oh, baby…” His hips stilled against your own and you felt him pour his release into you, the sheer feeling of being filled to the brim with his seed, utterly overwhelming. He waited a few blissful moments before pulling himself from you, and carefully tucked himself back into his boxers. Taking a few deep breaths, you watched him fix his suit so that it looked entirely as if nothing untoward had just taken place at all.

You hopped down from the counter and gestured to a stall. “Going to get fixed up quick. See you back out there in a few minutes?”

Alexander smiled and pressed a kiss to your cheek. “I’ll be waiting for you.”

When you emerged from the safety of the washroom ten minutes later, you were hardly surprised to find that Gianna had managed to seek out Alexander again. Though he had been able to keep his distance this time. Stealing yourself for what was about to happen next, you joined their conversation with a rather shit-eating grin. “Hello again.” You murmured once there was a break in the conversation. Gianna simply ignored you and was poised to ask Alexander another question. You closed the gap between her and gestured to his subtly disheveled figure. “Notice anything different about him? Go on and take a good look,” Gianna’s fiery gaze flashed to his slightly sweaty visage, to the deep breaths he was still taking, and to the afterglow that despite his best efforts, had still managed to set his skin aflame. “You see that don’t you, G? See how utterly fucked out he still looks?” She crossed her arms defiantly across her chest in response, her glittery eyes shooting daggers at you. “He looks that way because he just had his way with me like an absolute champion. And even though it is entirely none of your business, I’ll let you in on a little secret anyway,” You got ever closer to her, the last part barely above an audible whisper. “Alex fucked me so good just now, that I’ll be feeling him between my legs for the next four days, at least.”

Alexander tugged gently at your hand. “We have to find our seats, kid.”

You offered her one last beaming smile. “Have a lovely evening, Gianna.”

[thesith]

— The Death of Me

Chapter 02 (Edited)

You had no idea what you were thinking by going all-out in the competition. Your mental shields were strong, but you’d heard Vader’s abilities exceed the normal Sith’s - you were probably fucked. There was no way you’d make it through the next week, let alone longer with Vader’s affinity for the Force.

You realized for you, that means putting even more effort into your mental shields - effort and energy you don’t have spare of. You ideally would’ve thrown the competition, but Vader would’ve sensed that. Just as he would’ve (most likely) killed you for backing out of the competition. Unfortunately winning was the only option you had, which put you in one of the worst situations of your life.

You were motioned to rise from your knelt position, which you did and just stared at Tarkin. It was nobody’s fault but your own, but you needed to blame someone else for this. If not Tarkin, then your co-workers that sucked at their jobs.

“Are you sure? Pogney was saying earlier that I’m too weak - I think that holds true, right?” You looked to the men around you whose heads hung low. Your attempt was unsuccessful, which was proven in Tarkin's next words.

“As Lord Vader so aptly put it, never underestimate a woman. You have proven yourself strong and able, which has earned you this prestigious position.”

You were royally fucked, it seems. “Yes, sir - understood.”

“Good, L/N. Your current project shall be transferred to someone else’s care, as Lord Vader is in need of some adjustments to his personal vessel,” Tarkin’s voice seemed to trail off as you stood there, unblinking.

There’s no escape.

You nodded each time he expected some sort of acknowledgement, which was sufficient enough as he left to take care of more pressing matters. You remained stationary, eyes still trained on the position Tarkin held while speaking to you.

A voice coerced you out of your stare, “L/N!” Ladi exclaimed, “Congrats! They chose the right woman for the job!” Respect filled his tone - he’d been one of the only men to respect you in the Empire, and you were grateful for it.

Apparently there were two on that list now, adding Lord Vader.

“Thanks, Annox. Means a lot.” You bluntly said, little to no enthusiasm in your voice. You hated that you won, but at least you were alive and undetected.

Ladi’s eyes widened at the use of his first name, “Shit, I almost forgot my first name - been too long since I’ve been called it. How’d you fix the ship, though? You did it so fast, that was incredible!”

You looked around for the hooded Sith before speaking, “just had a feeling.”

Annox Ladi laughed at the idea, “a feeling? You won Vader and Tarkin’s favor based on a feeling?”

“Precisely,” In a sense, you’d just admitted to your use of the Force - a shame they can’t recognize that, though. “I’m quite terrified to start. Hopefully I won’t be working with Vader too much.”

“Well, you are his personal mechanic - surely you’ll be around him a lot,” Ladi paused, remembering something, “oh, shit! Remember what happened last time someone went near his personal hangar?”

You’d completely forgotten about the 4128 incident, where a stormtrooper labelled LP-4128 was asked to deliver a report to Vader. The trooper was Force choked, then slammed into the wall parallel to the hangar door.

“Surely that won’t happen to me, right? It’s my section too, now.”

Ladi’s face filled with worry, “As long as you avoid his personal quarters and provide him with the proper respect you’ll be okay. At least I hope you’ll be okay.”

The bell rang for lunch shortly after the conversation ended and you parted ways, Ladi toward the lunch room and yourself toward your quarters, as your appetite had been lost by your victory. When you’d reached your quarters, you locked the door and reached down to an unworn pair of shoes under your dresser.

A familiar metal was cold on your palm, a familiar rough design imprinting your palm. You flipped the ignition switch, unsheathing an emerald light. It served as a constant reminder of your parents and the life you left behind on Lothal.

Your new life was the Empire and strictly the Empire, you didn’t have room for anybody (or anything) else. The green served as a reminder of all you lost.

You were taken from your train of thought by a hard knock on your door, the presence feeling familiar. It was three stormtroopers accompanied by their Commander.

“L/N?” The Commander called out, knocking on your door even harder.

“One moment!” You quickly sheathed your lightsaber and placed it in your bed’s covers before opening the door. “Commander Frisne! What a pleasant surprise,” you feigned surprise, “what can I do for you, Sir?”

“I’ve come to give your new room assignment and assist in moving you and your belongings to your new quarters,” he motioned for the three troopers to come in, “your bed is not made, that isn’t regulation.”

You coughed, “I’m sorry, Sir, I haven’t been feeling well since the test earlier. Was resting up a bit.” You held your bedsheets in your arms, out of the troopers’ grasps. “I was injured on the job today. There’s some blood on the sheets, I can deal with them myself.” The lie slid from your tongue, and with the help of the Force was believed.

“Troopers, assist in moving L/N’s other assets.”

You sighed in relief, the idea of being forced to move to a different location finally hitting you, “excuse me, Sir, where am I being reassigned?”

“Nobody has told you yet? A shame. You’re being assigned to Lord Vader’s block so you’re closer to his private hangar.”

Your eyes widened at his words - oh shit. “Thank you, Sir, for letting me know.”

The troopers finished packing up your room (easily, mostly due to you having little to no belongings) and led you to the elevator, the weight of your lightsaber becoming more prominent as you walked. You hoped to the Force that it would stay where it’s hidden.

You were finally led off of the elevator and to your room, which the Commander told you the passcode to was ‘8108’. You entered the newly-unlocked room to find an incredibly more spacious quarters (in comparison to your 4 by 4) and a window, which the stars looked incredible through.

Frisne motioned for your company, so you promptly dropped the bundle of sheets you held onto the bed and followed him outside of your new quarters, the first thing you see being his room. If your life wasn’t hard before, it just got ten times more difficult.

Next to your room was Darth Vader’s private hangar, which held two ships - his TIE Advanced x1, and his shuttle.

“I see you’ve found your way down here,” a voice spoke from behind you - one that you’d know anywhere, though sounding more humane than in the other hangar.

You kneeled on instinct, also remembering Ladi’s words of giving him the respect he deserves - if you kneeled, maybe you’d make it through the night.

“You may rise, L/N.”

You raised your head before standing up fully, meeting eyes with Anakin Skywalker. The real traitor of the Jedi Order and Galactic Republic was the war’s poster boy, the Hero with No Fear, the Chosen One.

He killed Obi-Wan, like foretold in Sith legend - the apprentice slaughters the master.

You felt like fainting - it was really him of all people? Unexpected, and it made you nauseous.

“Tell me, what is your name, mechanic?” Lord Vader questioned.

You internally rolled your eyes - he’d called you by name before, so why was he acting like he didn’t know it? “L/N, My Lord.”

“No, your given name. I would appreciate knowing who I am working with for the foreseeable future.” He pushed, prodding your patience as well as your mental shields.

“Y/N L/N, Lord Vader.”

He seemed satisfied with your response, “you start tomorrow, Y/N. Don’t be late.”

You hated him for how he made your name sound, rolling off of his tongue. You just hated him. It took every ounce of your strength to not call him by his given name - the one you shouldn’t know.

All you could do was nod and exit his hangar, thinking of how shitty this was and how you really needed a better hiding spot for your lightsaber.

The Death of Me Masterlist

The Death of Me Chapter 3

[jaeminscoffee]

Drapetomania.

Drapetomania- An overwhelming urge to run away.

Pairing- Lee Taeyong x reader.

Genre- Angst, business!au

Word count- 2.73k

Warning- Mention of intake of alcohol, smoking and plans of running away.

Summary- A friend as good as ready to run away with you but you stop him dead in track, wanting solitude away from the cruelty of your world.

Ever felt like wanting to turn a blind eye towards all your responsibilities and just run away? 

The night was cold, gusty winds blowing through the open curtain of the ball room. Sounds of wine and whiskey glasses clattering filled the air. Sniffs of all sorts of cuisines from around the world had everyone's mouth watering. The entrance to the room leading up to the podium had a crimson carpet taut. All dressed fancy, women in gowns, men in tux. 

You yourself adorned a glitter black red flowing gown. Elegantly falling off your shoulder. The dress starting black, fading into red paired with a black bow heels, which was hidden by your gown pleats.

This was your life as the next head of your enterprise. Well, your father's company to be precise. It wasn't bad living in a world full of business talks, money exchange and complacency. 

Your company has earned its name as one of the top three of your country, alongside the Lee and Kim enterprises. The competition between all three companies was cut throat. All united and tranquil though, amidst all sorts of competition and the want to win, you were all acquaintances. 

All your parents dated a long time back, starting from their ancestors, passing through generations now passing onto you.

Business ran in all of your blood. 

As soon as you'd received your masters degree, your parents had immediately given you the post of the assistant manager at their company, not giving you a chance to state what your interests lie in. 

It wasn't half as bad as you'd thought it would be. You made a couple of friends going through the same as you, Lee Taeyong from the Lee Enterprise. Kim Doyoung and his younger brother Kim Jungwoo, from the Kim Corporations. Lastly, Jung Jaehyun from Jung Entertainments, CEO in training, a current partner and your fiancé. 

Yes, the Jung's and your family decided to merge ownership to create a much stronger stake.

This world, as lavish it sounds, snatches all types of freedom from you. Having money doesn't sound that bad, right? Having power sounds great, doesn't it? 

Well, it really isn't, you didn't get to enjoy the adult life you'd hoped for growing up. Not many stay beside you until you spend dollars on them either. The power either scared them or had their jealousy drive them away from you. 

Responsibilities came in one by one as a chain, giving you little to no time to breathe, adding onto that your wedding in a few months. You tried talking your way out of the arranged relationship, but it was futile. It was set once then it's set. No more turning points from there. 

The lad you're getting tied to wasn't bad, neither had he been rude to you, nor does he have that cockiness almost every other business man has. The arrogance was absent too. But rather, he was a gentleman, an absolute eye candy, a hard working young man. You were friends, as previously mentioned. You'd spoken the next day after the arrangement as you'd ran straight to the closest of your friends, Lee Taeyong, to bawl your eyes out of distaste. 

Jaehyun didn't want the marriage either, both of you were still so young, just starting your lives. 

Taeyong had to go through the same, but unlike your parents, they actually listened to him. 

That leads you to today, standing by the casement of your hotel room after exchanging a few formal greetings by the party hall, having Taeyong sit by the bed as your parents made their ments about the future of the company, possibly even announcing your marriage plan. 

"You know this hotel has a huge smoking prohibited board outside right?" Taeyong asked, clearing the air, coughing, watching you take swig after swig of your half burnt cigarette. You laugh at your friends' talks and silent complaints. This was the real you, you back talked, you screamed, you spent money on buying graphic t-shirts rather fancy clothes, you smoked, clubbed on the weekends. The real you was totally in contrast to you in front of the others. You were expected to be perfect, mannerisms on point not to disobey even.

"Yeah? And?" you said, puffing out the tobacco filled air right onto Taeyong's face, chuckling as he dramatically starts choking, exaggerating it a bit too much than required.

"I'm not going to help you when you get arrested," He said, shrugging his shoulders, standing up from the edge of the bed and standing beside you, taking the stick out of your hands, throwing it out of the window. You at him, looking up because of the height difference, "health comes first, princess" he said in feigned politeness, earning a smack on the shoulder as a reply from your end, "Oh fuck you, Lee" you reply with a petty tone having the toxic been taken from between your fingers. 

"So you dragged me all the way up to cuss at me or you have something to tell me?" he asked, breaking the silence taking over the air. You lean forward by the sill, looking outside the window as you let out a sigh, taking a whiff of the blustery night before turning towards Taeyong who already had his focus on you.

"It's about the marriage, and starting today, I-uh..I'll be taking over the company. I don't think I'm ready for it, Tae" you say, looking down at where your dress met the carpeted floor of your hotel room. 

You've had this talk with him multiple times, and he always had the same answer. What could the poor boy say anyways? 

"Y/n listen-" he was cut off by a soft knock on the door, the both of you whip your heads towards the door when the knocking occured again, "The door's unlocked!" you voice out. 

The door knob rattled the slightest, opening the wooden block by a little. "Y/n" a deep voice spoke, the door opening wider to display Jaehyun on the other end, a red velvet tux matching your clothing adorned his structure. "Jaehyun! Hey man!" Taeyong exclaimed, making his way towards the boy who stood with a wide smile after seeing his friend. "Hey Tae! Glad to see you didn't flee away from the party like you did last time" the boys laughed, embracing each other, you letting out a chuckle yourself. 

"Someone here, wouldn't let me run away until i take her along with me, I'm not stating names" Taeyong said jokingly, Jaehyun laughing at it, you poking your tongue out at the boys. 

"Can't have the spotlight taken away from the main, now can we?" Jaehyun said, the boys fist bumping at their adjoined 'tease Y/n until she's fuming' agenda. 

"Back to why I'm here, Your father's expecting you downstairs" Jaehyun looked over at you, your figure leaning against the now closed casement. "But i don't want to go down there" you reply grumpily, making your way towards the bed about to flop down, only to be stopped by Taeyong with his hands around your waist. "You're going to ruin your dress up, doll. Your mom won't let you breathe, then" he said pulling you up as you stand up right. 

"Right, almost forgot, thanks" you say, smoothing out the crease. Taeyong then pushed you towards your other friend, him catching you by your forearm. "Happy acting perfect! Oh also, all the best for the same" Taeyong said, waving as Jaehyun started pulling you out the room, ignoring your protests and whines. 

"Jae, i don't want to! They'll ask me to give speeches and you know how much i hate that!" you complain, trying to put all your weight onto the ground to make it hard for him to pull you, but he kept going with ease. "You don't really have to, we've finished that part of the day, thank the lords"

Jaehyun said, drawing a cross as you laugh at his antics. 

"Then why does father need me?" You see him pause the walk down the hallway towards the marble staircase, too fancy for your liking but already grown accustomed to it. 

"Because, they wanted to discuss something about the marriage" he said, resuming his steps. 

"What about it? There's still 7 months for it" you said, earning a sigh from the lad. This time, he stopped again, turning around to face you, gripping your shoulders in a soft, comforting grip. 

He looked at you hesitantly. Sensing something wrong, you grip his palms that rest on your shoulder, looking at him with a soft expression. "Jae.. Is something wrong?" you ask. 

"Y/n..about the marriage" he started, clearing his throat slowly then looking you straight in the eyes. "They.. My parents and yours.. They decided to.. Uh" he stopped, contemplating whether to let it out or not. 

"They decided to what? Jae just spit it out" you started to grow impatient.

"They decided to prepone our wedding"

-x-

You run down the hallway, towards the huge double doors leading to the party hall, frantically searching for your father, Jaehyun hot on your trail.

"Y/n wait up-"

"Father." you call out, finding him seated beside your mother, sipping on his whiskey. 

"Ah! If it isn't my pride! Y/n, your mom and Mrs.Jung-" he started, you cut him off. 

"Father, could i have a word with you in private?" you say, voice void of any form of emotion. 

"Of course, darling. Excuse me" he looked at the guests seated in the round table, smiling at them as you led him away from the crowd, to the hallway you'd previously run down.

"What is it, sweetheart?" He said, smile so wide it had to be fake. "You prepone the wedding?" your voice slightly quivered, crossing your fingers hoping it wasn't true. 

"Ah yes! I see Jaehyun already told you. I was thinking-" he started off again, with that honey coated voice of his. "why did you do that?" you step back, stumbling a bit. "Because the quicker the marriage, the faster the merge and more the profit, baby. It's all a full circle" he smoothened your hair out, you smack his hands away. "I'm not ready for a marriage yet, father! Two weeks? That's too early!" you scream at him, disbelief evident in your voice. "Oh of course you're ready! You're the daughter of a businessman, you're born ready!" he said, with pride, his shoulders pulled back. 

"I-i'm really not, dad. It's too soon, i don't want it. I'm going to call off the wedding-" you shakily say, turning around to make your way back to where Jaehyun stood, to be pulled back with much force. 

"Listen Y/n, It isn't about what you want or what you don't. You're ready when i say so, you get married when i say so. If you, ever, dare ruin our partnership with the Jungs, you see what you'll have to face." he said with a glare, giving you one last look before pausing to correct his bowtie, making his way back to the ballroom. 

Taeyong who had just so happened to make his way down the stairs, had unintentionally eavesdropped the entire conversation. He'd wanted nothing more than just to pull you in close, but after scanning the room, he saw your fiance standing there, by the corner, looking at Y/n then at him.

Taeyong nodded his head forward, wanting Jaehyun to come in and soothe you with comfort talks, but the latter shook his head. 

Your soon to be husband would probably be the last person you'd want to see, and so he faded back into the crowd. 

Taeyong hesitated first, having two successors seen together at a party isn't a news that should reach anyone, unless you're engaged, but seeing you let out a feeble sob, pulled his last string, and he made his way quick down the stairs, the hallway, pulling you into a tight embrace as soon as he reached you. 

"T-Taeyo-" you start between your feeble sobs, controlling yourself to not have a full on breakdown and create a scene at the party. "Shh doll, don't say anything, i heard it all" his voice calming, rubbing your back his palms in a comforting manner. "It's too e-early, Tae, i haven't even s-started living my life to th-the fullest yet and here-" you pause to inhale deeply, "-here i am, getting pulled in work after work, cutting my dreams out c-completely" you sob harder into his chest. 

"It's alright.. " he said, slowly starting to make his way out the crowded area, back up the stairs to where your rooms were located, unlocking your door upon reaching. 

"Is it? Of course it isn't Tae!" you let out louder now having the freedom to breathe normally, speak out all your pent up frustration. 

"It's just the stakes he cares about.. Not me, never has it been me and never will it be me." you spoke up before he could. 

"It was always about business. Never about me personally, and that hurts for thinking." you stop, burying your head into your palm, crying your heart out. 

Taeyong stood there, in front of you with a saddened glaze hooding his dark hazel eyes. The words you let out came from a very heartbroken, left to feel the pain alone girl. 

This is the harsh world of business and entertainment. 

He made his way closer to you, kneeling down in front of you, placing his hands over your legs to get you to look at him. No vail. 

"Y/n..doll, you see, we were forced into this world prior to adulthood, no consent whatsoever, we're just robot's basically, programmed to be perfect in all aspects." he started slow. "But there's nothing we can do about it"

With that the room went silent. The only sounds being from the loud acoustic downstairs and your sobs. 

You get up from your bed all of a sudden, sadness now turning to desperation and want for freedom. You make your way into the closet, taking out your already packed luggage, stuffing in whatever was left outside. 

"I'm really not ready-" "Y/n? What are you doing?" he said, voice panicked watching his friend throw random fabrics in. "And I'm tired of this-" "Y/n stop-" "-all of this" "Y/n-" 

"I should've done this long back-"

Taeyong grew even more panicked every second passing by, it only worsened when he saw you take the luggage and make your way towards the door. He took a hold of your hand in a tight grip as you felt the air turn black around you. It was hard to breathe with all the thoughts running through your head.

"Our world." you start, not trying to break out of his grip, slowly placing your hand over his.

"Our world Taeyong.. It's too cruel, harsh and dark even." you continue, stopping midway to look around you and then back at him, "none of us are safe in this world, none of us are happy, truly." you say removing his hands gently from the grip he had on yours.

Turning around once again, Taeyong was quicker. He caught your hands the second time, in a softer grip. 

"I know." 

"I know that our world is cruel. We don't experience the same as the others but Y/n..if you'd maybe, just maybe, -"

"Maybe if you'd let me, i could be your safe space in this harsh world" 

Taeyong stated, looking at you with nothing but sincerity. 

You contemplate for a while, option tempting. You could run away and not be alone. But that would only ruin his image. You blink your tears away, shaking your head. 

"No Tae.. You don't deserve to waste your life following me. You deserve so much better than that" you said, breaking free from his grip once again, smiling at him with a heavy heart before making your way out the door.

Taeyong felt his own eyes glaze over, watching his friend walk out the door, maybe now towards the exit and out towards freedom. 

When Taeyong looked at you, he saw a reflection of himself. A helpless, broken young adult wanting nothing more than love and solitude. 

But now that you're gone, Taeyong was left alone, with no one to confide in. 

And worse, he was left without a reflection. 

[betweengenesisfrogs]

The Triumph of the Marginalia

Marginalia, n.:

1 : notes or embellishments in the margins (as in a book)

2 : nonessential items

-Troll OED

Is it just me, or is Nepeta and Equius’s arc the most slept-upon piece of brilliance in all of Homestuck?

A brilliance, might I add, that culminates in possibly the most triumphant, fulfilling emotional moment in the entire work:

https://www.homestuck.com/story/7928

*stands back and beholds its majesty while from the background comes the sound of James Roach brutally murdering ska*

No, but actually, I mean this 100% unironically, and by the end of this post, I think you’ll agree with me.

By now, I think we all understand the Act 6 double metaphor: the series of temporal loops and universes that Lord English commands is paralleled with, and in fact totally identical to, the narrative of Homestuck. Our characters’ lives exist within this context. They struggle to escape it, and are defined both by it and by the rejection of it.

Enter Nepeta.

The metaphorical meaning of Nepeta in Homestuck is irrelevance, and that’s why she’s the most relevant character in any discussion.

Nepeta was one of the characters killed off during the Murderstuck arc. Hussie argued that she was perfect for this role. In fact, I believe he said something like “Nepeta is sweet, but if you look up the dictionary definition of ‘expendable character,’ you’ll see a picture of Nepeta playing with a ball of yarn and looking very cute.” She’s an endearing combination of shipper girl and apex predator, but not one of your Vriskas or Terezis in being a driver of the plot. Hussie, it seems, created her just to round out the troll cast. He described one of his purposes in Murderstuck as being to axe some of the less necessary trolls to reduce the scope of his character list.

Except that didn’t really happen, did it?

Like a cat with nine lives, Nepeta just keeps coming back.

Equius is another addition to the troll cast who gets pushed away from the main action. He was a character-writing challenge: how do you make someone who’s gross, uncomfortable, and racist kind of likable anyway? I’d argue Hussie succeeded, in large part because of Equius’s relationship with Nepeta. By the time you finish with Hivebent, you’ll probably have a little fondness for their moraillegiance. And if that doesn’t do it, the conversation that serves as their swansong in Equius: Seek the Highblood will tear your heartstrings to shreds.

Because Equius dies, tragically clownmurdered. There was, at the time, some stink over this from Equius fans. Would he have really let himself be killed so easily? Hussie countered: yes, and it was the most in-character thing he could have done. He died doing what he loved: being asphyxiated erotically and horrifically by a superior. Truly, there could be no more fitting end to his character than that.

And yet.

No sooner did Hussie complete his self-appointed story cleanup challenge than he immediately began to undo his own work. It’s almost as if, in declaring his intention to own those who preferred more characters to narrative economy, he immediately had to own himself??

By the time we get even a little way into Act 6, we’re deep in the dreambubble landscape, meeting dead characters left and right. And who should show up there but Equius and Nepeta? Equius attempting to get it on with a bunch of Aradias, who dump him. And Nepeta, living out her romantic dreams as a representative of a timeline where she got together with Karkat. They both appear as symbols of this deadness, this irrelevance. Except that that brings them back into the story, into the spotlight – the opposite of where they’re supposed to be!

Like many bits of commentary, Hussie continues to incorporate the metaphor Nepeta=Irrelevance into Homestuck. Karkat’s remark on their journey that he would love to meet “FIFTY FUCKING NEPETAS” and embark on “NEPETAQUEST” alludes to formspring remarks to the effect that, no, Homestuck was not going to have much time for the minor characters. Except it clearly did.

Why couldn’t the narrative let the meowrails go? Was it that despite the economy of Murderstuck, something was still incomplete? After all, one of Equius’s charms was that he appeared to be growing into a less repressed, kinder person. In Seek the Highblood, we see him letting his guard down enough to roleplay with Nepeta for a change. Their love for each other: wasn’t that ultimately what could redeem Equius in our eyes? So his dying and thus failing to protect her–isn’t that something that should be addressed?

You could imagine many a Nepeta and Equius fan saying this to Hussie back in 2011.

But Hussie was already saying it to himself.

The duo come roaring back into the story in the Trickster mode arc, mid Act 6, thanks to Gamzee’s ridiculous resurrections. True, Nepeta is still reduced as part of Fefeta, the character formed from killed-off girls who never speaks onscreen. But doesn’t using that fact as a running gag kind of draw our attention to it? Doesn’t the fact that Fefeta talks to Roxy constantly offscreen inform us that once we get outside the frame of the narrative, Nepeta has a rich inner life and countless stories to tell?

And it’s here that Equius gets something he never got in his original “arc:” the chance to apologize to Nepeta. You’d be forgiven for missing it since there’s so much else going on at the time, but he does, while fused with AR. Here’s what you’d miss, though: he’s grown as a person in the afterlife. He’s come to regret that moment of weakness, where his fetish kept him from protecting his moirail. Impossible as it seems, he’s continuing his character arc.

The scene ends with Fefeta exploding (she’s also, after all, dealing with Eridan), but it leaves us with a tantalizing question:

Will Nepeta forgive Equius? Is there even a plausible time and space in that story when she could respond to his words?

Do you see what’s happening here? Instead of being erased, Nepeta and Equius are starting to slip the bounds of the story that killed them. They leap in and out of the frame, half-mythical figures. Marginalized, they write their own stories in the margins. They exist in complete defiance of the original logic of Homestuck.

Lord English is an alt-Author figure, a dark, brutal reflection of narrative control and narrative necessity. His world, in which horrible choices are necessary, in which the alpha timeline is a ticking clock leading inexorably to his manifestation, is one that beats down people not deemed important enough by his narrative. Which makes it identical to the one we’re reading. Throw all the unnecessary characters in the trash. Kill them off, if it suits my purposes. The world doesn’t need Nepeta.

Which is precisely why it does. Because isn’t defying Lord English the entire point? Isn’t it what Homestuck reveals as truly heroic?

What might Nepeta be capable of?

Let’s talk about two other victims of English’s forces of marginalization. Davesprite might be the most quintessential example. He teaches us what the alpha timeline is and how it works, by going back to fix a doomed timeline and submitting to being doomed himself. Except he merges with a bird and avoids that fate. Okay, but he clearly gets killed off fighting Jack in Jade: Enter. Except he comes back and hangs out with Jadesprite. Okay, but he dies in the planetsplode in the Retcon. Nope, he comes back from that, too. Huh. He keeps slipping the fate decreed for him by – who else? Lord English.

But it’s a struggle, clearly. He’s caught up in various cycles of guilt and shame. Over being “not the real Dave.” Over his feeling that he has to be a hero in the sense Bro demanded he be. Hussie describes Davesprite as fitting the “way of the unbroken sword:” his experiences have led him to believe in being strong and capable at the expense of all else, in contrast with the other Dave, whose belief in Bros’ toxic ideas is beginning to slip – the “way of the broken sword.” And where did Bro get his toxic ideas from? At least in part, the whispering voice of the soul of Lord English.

Now we turn to Dirk. Like Dave, Dirk has a marginalized, “less important” splinter self but it’s more of a pressing concern. AR shows Dirk’s darker side: exhibiting manipulative tendencies that human Dirk is trying to move away from. He’s also a copy removed from humanity, who feels an understandable amount of disillusionment about being removed from physical existence and his own identity. But as much as Dirk may splinter, like his dumb anime sword, he never breaks. What this means in the symbolic language of Homestuck is that Dirk lives fully, instinctually, in the way of the sword. He believe in a world of hard choices, masculine heroism, and necessity. Ultimately, this, too, is part of what makes Bro so harmful to Dave. In AR and Davesprite, we have a strange parallel: two splinter selves, both of whom are enmeshed in the logic of LE.

Except AR, unlike Davesprite…kind of is LE.

What is Lord English composed of? Well, there’s Caliborn, the most unrepentant shithead of all time. There’s Gamzee, embodiment of horrifying clownery. And then there’s AR, a version of Dirk even more removed from the person he wants to be.

And…Equius?

Allow me a moment to get really indulgent and take a big puff on my Homestuck scholar’s pipe.

The metaphorical meaning of Equius in Homestuck is: sort of growing out of being a creepy racist.

Or maybe let’s say: the opportunity to do that. We said that Equius was on the verge of being redeemed (even had been, in the eyes of many readers). What does it mean to stick him in with Lord English’s souls? It means two things:

1) Equius is a product of his society, which was shaped by Doc Scratch, aka by Lord English, both of whom are kind of him, but Scratch picks up on his traits especially. This is a recognition of that fact: the part of him that sucks is, itself, Lord English in a dizzying loop.

2) Equius’s story is a tragedy. It is the story of a kid who started to escape his society’s tendencies, but was sucked back in by the evil force behind them.

Although…maybe that’s not the whole story.

Because both Equius and AR aren’t really that bad. AR’s pretty understandable, and by no means beyond the possibility of goodness. And the combination of the two? Honestly, pretty harmless. They counter each other’s worst tendencies by devolving into a weird goofball. In fact, AR even says he wants to do something heroic: to sacrifice himself for something really important. He does, kind of, mustering a last-ditch robohorse assault on Caliborn. But at the same time, this is the substance of his tragedy. A hero whose defeat of a great evil forces him to become the substance of that evil. Which could not be a more fitting summary of how these characters function in their story.

But maybe that’s still not the whole story.

Enter Davepeta.

At first glance, the creation of Davepeta seems like Hussie’s most batshit troll move yet. I feel pretty confident in saying that even those who predicted either of these characters returning didn’t see that one coming. However, a few pages of Davepeta’s presence reveals a fundamental truth:

Davepeta is fucking amazing.

In them, Davesprite’s depressive moods are buoyed up by Nepeta’s upbeat optimism. Nepeta’s reclusive shyness is balanced by Dave’s tendency toward brash banter. Both of them gain confidence from being the new person they are. They quickly let go of ideas inherited from the world that kept them from self-knowledge and happiness. Dave, his toxic masculinity; Nepeta, her fear.

A great point I’ve seen made is how much Jasprose and Davepeta resemble fantasy selves for Rose and Dave: indulgent, technicolor manifestations of people they could be if they let go of inhibitions and limitations. But I think Davepeta is the most unambiguously positive of the two.

The metaphorical meaning of Davepeta in Homestuck?

Growth.

Not giving a fuck about what the world thinks. The world, aka Lord English. Because Lord English could never have predicted that his machinations would also spawn a confident, powerful fusion of two beings he had discarded as totally irrelevant.

They’re also a multicolored non-binary furry, so that’s even more points in the pissing off shitheads column.

They are someone Lord English never conceived of, never could have conceived of, but which lay as potential within his domain all along.

And if Lord English is a reflection of the author, of what Hussie feels one has to destroy or sacrifice, than Davepeta is an indulgence existing in defiance of all that.

And this makes Davepeta the most powerful person of all.

They are the light at the end of the tunnel. They are the person you could be, if you could get past your mental shackles and just grow. It may not be possible to ever get there as a mortal human, may only be for a godlike sprite, but striving to be like them matters, is purpose and fulfilment enough.

And they love ARquius.

Nepeta believed in Equius, believed he could grow, and was growing. So as much as ARquius traps himself in a Lord English loop of his own making – grown, perhaps, out of Dirk’s belief that there should be a loop, that importance is admirable—Davepeta pulls from him, in his last scene, his finest qualities. His love.

Equius asks forgiveness again, and this time, Nepeta’s able to give it. Davepeta easily accepts ARquius’s apology, an apology which never could have existed within the confines of a normal narrative. A reconciliation that both of them fought for by defying their narrative, by existing outside it. By being not the trolls who lived and died, but their broader, conceptual selves, who exist beyond lifetimes. Beyond the comic page. And they consummate that reconciliation with that most cherished and loving of gestures:

A hug.

And even as this is Equius and Nepeta’s reconciliation, it’s also Dirk and Dave’s. Which, I should mention, is also taking place, simultaneously and circumstantially simultaneously, just below. It’s a more difficult one, certainly, especially as filtered through the splinters of Davesprite and AR. Here forgiveness is not quite the right word. But – knowledge, and recognition, and a kind of peace. It’s Davesprite’s chance to reunite with the part of his brother he loved, while also being a person who’s grown beyond him. And it’s AR’s chance to be loved.

Oh, sure, the art is ridiculous, the pose absurd. But that’s what makes it sublime.

I mean, what did you think that Sbahj comic was really about?

A boy distancing himself from his feelings through irony, never acknowledging that the story he’s telling is about two bros who desperately want to hug each other, but don’t know how.

Here’s the hug.

I want to dip into Epilogues territory for a moment, but it’s territory which is fairly well implied by Davepeta’s statements and role in Collide. The Meat Epilogue, I think, only illuminates what was already there.

Lord English is uniquely vulnerable to Davepeta.

And why shouldn’t he be? They, like so much else in Homestuck, are a consequence of his actions spiraling far beyond his control. But it’s more than that. Davepeta is finally able to lay the unbroken sword to rest by following the “prophecy” about Dave defeating Lord English. On the one hand, that’s kind of what happened. But it’s also completely different from what English intended, antithetical to his desires and goals. Which makes the victory all the sweeter. But at the end of the day, Davepeta doesn’t fight for the reasons Davesprite did. They’re free of that, now. Instead, they fight from a place of genuine compassion. Because Davesprite, like Dave, knows the true meaning of being a hero: caring about one’s friends.

But the most important thing about Davepeta is that they know Lord English, on a level that perhaps neither he nor they recognize. Both AR and Equius are in there, and both are capable of redemption. It’s only Gamzee and Caliborn who are truly beyond it.

How does Davepeta defeat Lord English?

With a hug.

They wrap their claws around him, and carry him into the sun like a piece of garbage. It’s an aggressive hold, but it’s also effectively an embrace.

And I have to wonder: in those final moments, did they sense a connection there? Did Equius and Dirk stir somewhere within Lord English? Did they give him a moment’s pause? Resist him? Make it just the tiniest bit easier for Davepeta to do their work?

If so, then that, too, is heroism.

At the very least, it’s circumstantially simultaneous with the hug we see in Act 6, and so it carries the same message:

Redemption.

Not for the shitheads, but for those who wanted to be better.

And if this isn’t enough, there’s a third reconciliation here, too: between author and reader, or to put it in other terms, author and character.

If Lord English is a shadow of the author, what part of the author can be redeemed? Maybe not the destructive, antagonistic urges. But the part that plans and designs and philosophizes as Dirk does. That part of Hussie wanted Davepeta to be there, to strike that final blow, and made it happen.

Because, when you get right down to it, as much as Hussie pretends to be antagonistic toward his readers and the characters they enjoy, it’s the fans, the shippers, the furries, those whose hearts go out to a cute, shy cat girl that he most celebrates.

Hussie fucking loves Nepeta.

Nepeta and Equius are, sneakily, the best characters in Homestuck, because they understand its fundamental message: that to succeed in Homestuck is to defy Homestuck. They defy everything it throws at them, and somehow, improbably, come out on top.

All of this is there on that page, a whole edifice of storytelling culminating in that singular, grand, supremely indulgent expression, a feast of looping leitmotif and color and imagery and meme and sound. It’s all there, if you know where to look.

Nepeta and Equius love each other, and that’s pretty fucking great.

See? I told you.

<> Ari

[sugar-petals]

SuperM as Subs

↪ A/N. UGH these guys have me fucking spiraling. very excited to bring you this, please indulge 👀

○ warnings ⚠️ 18+, dom/sub, kinks galore, gender-neutral dom!reader

3.5k words | bullet points | this is all over the place there is so much to say i—

⌈ ten

— motto: kitten has ‘ten’ in it, but so does intense.

wowza honey

best choke out you’ll find

the stamina, too, oh lord. ten can handle a lightning fast riding without blowing up in two minutes

all while you choke him

with a waist harness on and ankles bound

bondage looks so good on him; he’s flexible and enduring. imagine a hogtie... art. 

such a beautiful man.

literally, rope marks, imagine that

we need to talk about his pain threshold as well there

things that have other guys screaming are a mere tickle to him

i can’t emphasize enough how lucky you’ll be. this fella does not have to be trained much. experience? abundant. talent? more than vast. he knows precisely how far he can go with what kind of kink. that is invaluable.

and now, the most mind-blowing part. stress: he encourages you to take it all out on him. in his mind, that’s an extra treat and a promise he gets it raw how he loves it. 

your satisfaction is his fuel, as is seeing you unwind. 

the whole progression from heavy beginnings to breathless ends

the boy needs you to go, for the lack of a better word, buck-wild

so yes, ten is your number one (pun intended) address for all things messy. he asks you to hatefuck him, you spoil him with it.

the sheer masochism of him

are you kidding me

listen i’m not a fan of the sin concept but in this case... you can sin all you want with him

tl;dr: angry sex is his thing. strong emotions. guts will be rearranged.

about the elephant in the room: yeah, this guy can bust some extraterrestrial, dazzling, sexy as hell moves

that means one thing. contortionism. you can bend him into every position you desire and fuck him like that. he’s petite but don’t worry. your babe’s strong

in fact, you can sit on his face and get one ferocious rimming daily

things will get wet wetter wettest

surprise surprise vice versa he likes his own ass filled with plugs and vibrators

the type that buzzes him into a delirium while you slap him. with his neck turning red and those pretty almond eyes going wide. 

they do hold the universe. he’s just so enthralling.

btw. talking about toys. having a fleshlight ready to make him moan and ruin his orgasm is a veeery good idea.

chances are you will draw cute english or thai interjections from him

in return, you can call him your prince and kiss him all over for aftercare. he’s no different, thinking of you as someone figuratively and literally noble to him. he’s thankful you fulfill his greatest sexual dreams. it’s true, you’ll really worship each other.

he’ll do his little mona lisa smile and doze off in your lap...

sub!ten is just priceless okay

10/10

i need a moment

⌈ kai

— motto: local strip club found bankrupt.

oh mY GOD nini

he knows how it’s done

did he go to sub school or something

you’ll find him at the stove around 6:30 AM in his apron

making you breakfast pretty much butt naked otherwise

flustered and sexy butler kim right at your service

looking very sculpted

dancing a little, as usual, he’s getting into it

in other words, you’re sure to get those eggs fried well

now, besides his skimpy clothing and waiter allure

kai as a submissive is almost definite to be an epitome of organization. he’s just good at it. period. lube and protection are always in the house.

you do your part doing maintenance for toys and cracking the occasional whip but really i mean... as the great oh sehun once said... never don’t mind about a thing when jongin gets the chance to put something in order

so lean back — kai is a service sub. he’s the type who wants to break a sweat for you

and have that very visible because he doesn’t own clothes anyway. well, well.

something more about organization

fucking according to a schedule sounds about right

you have it all planned out with a special calendar book just for that purpose

but don’t believe he’ll be boring and hyper-structured beyond that

kai is the precise opposite of dull as a lover but that’s a huge duh

he has both the acute sense of bashful romance and strong erotic feelings that come with a regular eyebrow wiggle

he likes to provoke the wild animal in his partner

reckless abandon

kai is 100% guaranteed to make you let out the beast. he enjoys feeling you go all out and grip him, pin him. everything hands-on is good.

grinding and gyrating is always part of sex. hell, even floating and flying. fuck gravity.

you need a certain level of dexterity. and hey if you don’t, you will pick it up from him in a solid minute

what i’m trying to say is that it won’t happen that the two of you rub against each other in the sheets like two blocks of wood (even when going into aftercare!). it will be fluid, ever-moving, energetic right and left with the mattress creaking all over the damn place

sex with jongin is one thing for sure: fucking fast. he won’t mess up his tempo if you know what i mean. the two of you will be thrusting and moaning until complete fatigue sets in

he whines a lot i’m telling you

it’s the surefire way to know kai is into it, being genuinely vocal is one of his best qualities as a sub

besides handling any rough pace 

this guy will have you sneaking into his gym room and have a quickie on the next best workout bench

and lord knows what else. 

the bathroom is another destination. wet!kai, the yearning romeo, is an image you won’t forget

prepare to get your hands on all of that

he’s gonna melt right into ya

and that is sub!kai for you

⌈ taeyong

— motto: vanilla? hardly heard of her.

to use an nct pun: the options are— limitless.

and another: you’re signed up for a... long flight.

and you’re gonna be the: boss

who gives it to him

and i’m warning you

he’s shy about it but

taeyong is simply insatiable. take his kinky reputation at face value.

what doesn’t he do

the softest softcore (feathers to tease him) to the hardest hardcore (edge play, hallelujah), the whole spectrum without any efforts for transitions

so you guessed it, a normal bedroom really won’t do.

neither does a standard dom

but since you’re knee deep into taeyong — go figure, you’re reading this — news flash you likely aren’t one

plug in all of your toys and cameras for date night. he needs his good dose of lube-dripping fantasy, homemade with a bunch of latex thrown into the mix

yeah i know that will escalate quickly

he wears it well i’m telling you

and also greatly enjoys you donning it for friday evening

it will frustrate him to the max which is a sight to see indeed

no other sub in super m gets harder boners over latex. that’s how it is. he’s just so drawn to the material and how much authority it gives you in particular

noona/oppa kink incarnate

hell, even daddy/mommy

he calls you that when you are forehead to forehead and catching your breath

because man these orgasms are going to get you so high, bodies gently intertwined

and very, very drenched

not just skin-wise

so let me underline this

your dear taeyong, no matter how innocently he can blink at you, gets his daily nutrient intake from cum. 

what fancy-schmancy protein shake is he interested in other than yours like literally none

put him on a leash together with baekhyun and you have two salivating, ultra dirty boys

so ready to please and swallow everything up

taeyong is a handsome handful

you’ll be horny 24/7

or 23/7 maybe because aftercare

where we revert back to adorable yong. he clings to you a lot, you nuzzle him all the time, the affection is off the charts

he’s pouty and sweet, smiling to himself

holding him tight gives him a big sense of security. 

safe to say he wants everybody to know he belongs to you in terms of PDA, too

it’s not restricted to domestic intimacy and sexual aftermath

taeyong truly has the perfect ratio of freaky and soft

god worked hard on him

⌈ lucas

— motto: when bigger is better, things get wetter...

ready for take off are we 

yukhei is one flirty crackhead you’ll love it

teasing will go back and forth

there might even be play fights and wrestling involved. messing around on sofas and carpets, you know the deal. things won’t get too rowdy, he’s being his 6′ baby self and you don’t want to use your whole bag of tricks yet vice versa

lucas eventually lets you win anyways

and acts like he’s lethally injured ffs

he’s an aquarius don’t come for him they roll that way

in comes the patient-doctor roleplay. yep that’s how the story goes

and you sure as hell get to take care of um

luke’s big lightsaber

alright

it’s throbbing a bit too much and needs medicine

so think of yourself as a jedi master training your disciple.

read: edging the living soul out of him. 

rough handjobs are just perfect

as is going on a rodeo trip getting the guy to tame those bucking hips with a lil punishment here and there. and with punishment i mean tickling even when he is close to orgasm

uh-oh

wong yukhei is a cutie pie but he has just about a bucket of cum for you spilling all over the place

he might get a lil embarrassed about it, that’s the sweetest thing

cleaning it up will be his greatest pleasure

so

ready for subby lucas yet?

he’s juicy

so what else do we have... 

(besides that he sounds like harry styles is dubbing him and that voice is going to turn you on so hard)

if his dominant doesn’t have an ounce of a muscle and biting kink that’s, how to put it, a missed opportunity

just licking him and leaving marks everywhere just has to be the biggest feast in history. you have him parade around sleeveless just to see the hickeys on his arms. 

and you don’t have to be frugal. it has to scream mine mine mine. yes, xuxi has some arm sensitivity going on. he needs your mouth on him doing chaotic stuff that leaves his jaw hanging open. to the point of you eating your brunch off his chest and shoulders.

there i said it 

breakfast with yukhei is cancelled. it’s breakfast on yukhei

as for positions: things are usually more chill and standard. just how much missionary will there be, you’ll lose count. he’s good at it. lucas has the condensed passion of ten people, it will be more arousing than you’d think. it’s also a good pause to your usual activities, you both get a chance to um take a breath

if he feels cocky, wong brathei likes to lift you up during sex and here we go again with a staring contest... which ends with a bright smile and kissing 

what did you expect

always remember this one thing. in his big himbo brain only one thought floats around and that. is. his. love. for. you.

a whipped boy

he’s irreplaceable.

patient xuxi reports speedy recovery

⌈ mark

— motto: good boys go to heaven after debuting a couple times more

sirs and sirettes, mark lee.

what did you think the “m” in super m stands for? mario, man, massive, market, model?

nope

SuperMark is what keeps the planet spinning

now here it goes

let’s get one assumption out of the way first

you’d think he fucks how he talks but you’ll be surprised

everything’s slow slow slow

the pace is very casual for someone who raps and thinks that fast

mark is just too friggin’ cute

a blushy cupcake

innocent and always curious what you’re up to

just perfect for all sorts of gentle dominance

you can reassure him when he gets nervous which happens every now and then

and put him into soft sweaters and blankets when he feels cold

maybe even building a pillow fort and just caressing him ad nauseam literally for minutes on end.

tousling his hair would be adorable beyond belief

the same goes for giving him cheesy pet names

or feeding him sweets

you can bet chocolate is his favorite. 

but it’s not just all about pampering him

keen how he is you can expect a lot of gestures of attention from mark, like carefully selected presents and foot massages

there’s a real gentleman at your hands.

a gentlemark

he might have come up with that himself 

you bet there will be lots of humor involved mark just can’t do serious sex

his intellect is yeahhh... superhuman

as much as his heart is squishy for you.

it’s hard out there. this world is tough

but mark is a safe haven to return to and have wholesome hours in bed with

30% sex, 70% aftercare.

you think that’s impossible? look into his puppy eyes and tell me all you’ll do won’t be spooning

it’s an art form and mark is just too inviting not to do a brush stroke on the canvas. 

and after you’re done spooning things are back to more caressing

a smooch left, a smooch right

for the 30% he might need a bit of outside support because his inner perfectionist compels him

so he’ll text johnny at 4:30 in the morning with urgent questions

because his mind is racing and he promised to wake you up with a set of spicy stuff

sex veteran johnny will calmly explain it to mark but also keep it short and simple

because man how early can someone text you 

and mark appreciates a crisp how-to that he won’t forget

even when you are chest to chest feeling each other’s breath and his brain almost shuts down

at the end of the day...

you say hey canada lemme get my hands on those big thighs of yours and ding ding his pants are off. he responds so easily to guidance

and his dancing skill always helps to get groovy with you

so

bust down markiana

you’re that bitch and you know it

⌈ baekhyun

— motto: you and me, relax and ch...oking

leader on the streets 

screamer in the sheets

even the most peace-loving, noise-sensitive neighbors are going to dig the things that come out of his mouth as caused by you

just how good are his lungs

imagine him making audios for you. yes, god is real.

you just hit the lotto

the things his mouth can do 

byun baekhyun is a synonym of oral fixation when will merriam webster admit it

if there’s one person in super m who can nail the picture perfect drooling ahegao face without hesitation it’s him

he will pleasure you with his tongue so vigorously

that level of spit blowing will haunt you

and the slurpi—

THE NOISES. we can’t talk about the noises. nope, nope. the noises are not meant to be described to this world. 

you’ll suffer from incurable lust once you picture it

you know what his voice can cause

that would trigger a mass hysteria

anyway. moving on. 

baeks is the type to appreciate a mix of cheek-on-cheek cuddling and getting his brains banged out

you can toss him around, grab him by the hair, fuck him absolutely stupid

while also kissing his forehead and playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. as if he doesn’t want you enough already this will have baekhyun needy for so long

he’s the king of slutty behavior

and making both of you crack up with mid-sex jokes about who knows what, suho’s butt mole or something

he’s just too hilarious. on the other hand he likes being creative and concentrated

in his free time you’ll probably find him reading erotic stories, sketching sexy stuff (i.e., well, you) in a journal, or even a manual to the kamasutra. it gets him all hot and bothered to the point where he can’t stop being chatty about it.

baekhyun’s arousal always first manifests as a wave of words or texts 

your part of the equation is distilling the essence of said texts and getting to work on that perky body of his

and praise him plenty. baekhyun loves a lot of verbal affirmations and you’re glad to shower him with it.

kink-wise: he really has a gazillion ideas to try

costumes, gags, whips, pet play, sounding, collars, semi-clothed sex, cock rings, suspensions, you name it

as the cherry on top, a three- and fourway could be part of your routine for sure. 

that being said he might have a few dicks in him physically or mechanically because geez bacon loves fucking machines and dildos

he is 100% ready to embark on one hell of an anal odyssey

how much he can stretch out you can probably guess. and he’ll make jokes about it either way to turn you on

you’ll be certain to exhaust and stuff your lil’ darling to the brim but i’m telling you what you already know

he’s gonna be the happiest ahegao boy in the world

and throw peace signs when you take pictures of him fucked out

that’s byunbaek for you. one of a kind

a subby gem

⌈ taemin

— motto: 500 points to slytherin! 

this is what you’ve been waiting for i know I KNOW

red carpets out for the sensual sub king and nation’s p.r.e.t.t.y. boy

the international bombshell blonde

a bdsm luminary

DEITY

now, listen. 

some erotic feats are truly hard to execute

but there is always one guy who’s the exception 

and his name is lee taemin

no matter how unrealistic or complex your imagination of sex with him is

with this man, most of it can become real

effortlessly

because he’s a) an open-minded lover b) rich enough to rent ten dungeons — per hour and c) closest to perfection we as a human race have ever come 

taemin is a pro at bringing all kinds of your and his fantasies to life. that’s why it’s important that you sit down to talk about how your intimate encounters could look like every other week

primarily, as far as his taste is concerned

we’ve all heard about his tales of creepypasta romance

literally he’s been an idol for so long and still comes up with new baffling ideal type stories

so according to those

he wants to be run over by you and thinks that’s hot,,, but i say... we stick to flipping him over... like on a bed,,, no car involved

this pal is macabre you have to be an embodiment of the law to rein him in

police roleplay much. arrest this provocateur!

furthermore and on a lighter note

besides being jailed

lo and behold, chained up and decked out in lace, draped on a lip-shaped art sofa is how he feels the most in his element

add a mask and a corset 

just how glamorous is he

this guy has mastered all techniques of drawing you in with the most elaborate seduction. 

tremendous!

including dance: for your eyes only. 

prepare to have your loins set on fire.

because within the 4 walls of your home his every move will be pure danger loaded with sexuality. it would be even more of a public menace than he already is when performed in front of a crowd

keep those handcuffs ready officer

because it is your mission to stop that guy 

the more restraints the better

put five harnesses on him i don’t care as long as it contains him

and once that’s done

taemin likes to be stimulated and teased with you running silk fabric all over his body

he also enjoys you creating artistic pin-up-esque photography of him

with sultry eyes and puckered lips

and no worries. taemin will put his plump lips to good use elsewhere, too. all. over. the. place. servicing his dominant is an honor.

and those moans will be like a melody.

the literal only weak spot he has

is to kiss and tell. taemin gets carried away in conversation and feels pride when the topic switches to you. so... if you lick his earlobe and call him your slave, jongin knows the very next day and finds it very entertaining. 

taemin won’t deliberately spill the beans in a group chat but one-on-one with a close friend? he’s too excited not to talk about your chemistry and lets some juicy details slip if he can’t control himself.

taemin requires a dom/me who’s definitely not insecure and wants others to know who’s boss.

on the flipside, if you enjoy voyeurism? he is your man. it’s a matter of perspective entirely.

so to speak — even his weakness is a strength.

that’s all you need to understand about him

in sum: you got yourself quite an ace 

taem will press your number and you’ll have no sorrow in the world.

we truly are blessed by his existence

peace out

© submissive-bangtan 2017-2019. all rights reserved. do not repost.

[intricate-oeuvre]

On how to be deadly || Geralt of Rivia || part VII

Word count: 3.5k+ a thiccc one

Summary: Axelia is Witcher experiment herself and has gone through same harsh Trials as Geralt, but she wasn’t so lucky with the outcome. Her vision didn’t become better. Therefore, she was rendered blind in the end. And because of that, she solely uses her Witcher senses to make her ways. Only potions can give her false sense of sight for limited time.Somewhere along the way she meets the Rivian. Who’s interested to know how she’s been killing monsters and hasn’t been killed herself yet.

Warnings: heavy angst, fighting.

A/N: I HAVE HEARD YOUR VOICE, DEAR READERS, SO THE JASKIER ANGST CAN START IN NEXT CHAPTER!!!

part I || part II || part III || part IV || part V || part VI || part VII || part VIII || part IX || part X || part XI || part XII || part XIII | Epilogue

A wolf is a wolf. Even in a cage. Even dressed in silk.

Both of them still were on the ground, fighting each other, when Axelia had landed a gut wrenching kick right between Geralt’s legs. Thus, sending him down on one knee.

“Oh, sweet Lord!” Jaskier winced at that, his own hands flying to cover himself.

“Should I help him?” Ciri asked as she did too wince at the unfair kick from Axelia.

“Who is she, Jaskier?” Yennefer asked before the bard could answer the first question. Yen’s eyes glued to girl’s precise movements.

“I…um… I have sworn to keep my mouth shut.” He glanced at the sorceress. Yennefer didn’t question anything else, for now, and just continued to watch.

That kick at Geralt had given Axelia window of time to recollect herself. Staying few steps in front of him, she leaned down and rested her hands on her knees. She felt angry, adrenaline pumping through her veins. She was angry at everything, more so at the witcher in front of her. She was angry at whole fucking Continent. She was done fighting with grace, ready to get hands on dirty.

“You want to go again?!” she screamed at him, flailing her hands at her sides up.

“What are you trying to prove?” Geralt grunted as he spat out some blood to his side. With a slight wince he stood up, smearing the blood off of his lips onto the back of his hand.

“That I don’t need you!” Axelia continued to scream, as she started to round him helical. The sweat that had gathered on the back of her neck, made her feel cold every time when gust of wind caught on her skin.

“Yet, here you are.” Geralt stated as he regained his fighting stance and started the rounding too.

How could he say such things? Did he not know that she couldn’t do anything about it? That whatever she chose to do, she’ll always end up wherever he is? Has he forgotten that they are soulmates? Had all these years with Yennefer, really made him forget about such things?

Axelia’s eyes turned feral and with animalistic snarl she charged at him once again. This time he had expected her action. They had trained together, after all. With step to the side in very last second, Geralt got out of her way, making her miss him entirely. But with instantaneous turn Geralt reached for her high ponytail that seemed half messy now. And with a yank back and irritated scream that was almost on boarder of painful, she was wrenched back. Her body completely thrown out of balance as her head was yanked too far back, making her land on her back on the ground with a heavy thud. Jolting all breath out of her lungs. More tears gathering in her eyes. She was sure Geralt could break her, and he will if she won’t ask him to stop. He walked closer to her, leaning over.

“Are you done?” He spat with tilt of his head, same irritation on his face as on hers. Axelia bared her bloody teeth at his upside-down form.

“Why did you follow me?!” she seethed, her nails digging in the dirt besides her.

“It works both ways, you know.” Geralt said, resting his elbow on his knee, thus leaning closer down at her. He was breathing heavily while Axelia was still trying to regain her breath which had been knocked out of her just seconds ago.

“That is: why you were drawn here is the explanation why I followed you.” He said, as his eyes glanced at his own hand that Axelia had sunk her teeth into. With painful gulp she continued staring daggers at him. Which reminded her of the knife she kept in her right boots. Planting both of her feet on the ground and bending her legs at knees she seemed done with the fight.

“I assumed that you-” Geralt caught movement with corner of his eyes. Axelia’s hand was slowly creeping along the dirt towards her boot. Geralt moved swiftly and with a stomp, firmly planted his foot on her wrist. The sudden application of force and pressure making her hand crack. Axelia hissed at him, not sure if he had broken her wrist or not.

Geralt sent her a glare and then reached for her boot to pull out the dagger hiding in there. With that ‘are you for real’ look he raised eyebrow at her.

“What? You always told to have some contingency plan.” She rolled her eyes at him. Throwing the dagger to the side, he continued on whatever he wanted to tell her before:

“As I said, before you interrupted me so vulgarly,” he applied a little bit more pressure on her wrist, making his point clear: “I believed that you knew how that soulmate banter went.” He sighed.

“I don’t know two shits about soulmates!” Axelia spat, blood flying out of her mouth as she raised head higher. Geralt narrowed his eyes at her and stepped off of her hand. With huff she cradled her hand to her chest and sat up. Her face smeared with dirt and blood, only two lines seemed clear on her face- where the tears had streamed down her cheeks from frustration. Her hair in similar state with dirt and grass in her white strands. Geralt looked matching, his hair messy with dirt and stems of grass. His face sporting similar look with all the dirt and his bloody nose.

“You’re like a savage beast.” Geralt grunted out as he looked at his bitten hand again, turning it one way and then another.

“Yeah, and you almost broke my wrist.” She grumbled and moved her hand.

“Hm.” Geralt hummed gravely.

“You’re always running. Why?” witcher asked her after brief moment of silence.

“We have spectators.” Axelia said, turning to look over her shoulder, and letting out a small hiss of pain. Her ribs most likely were bruised. For a second Geralt turned to look on their audience, but didn’t heed any more attention than that.

“Axelia.” Geralt stated her name, still waiting for her answer.

“What? What do you want me to say? Why wouldn’t I run from something that I can’t really have? From something that could have been mine, but now it isn’t? The… The… All this, whatever.” She said looking at her dirty hands.

“It’s easier to run away from you, than to be reminded of all the what ifs.” She sighed looking up at him.

“I really am a failed experiment.” She groaned laying back on the ground and staring in the grey clouds, still holding her wrist to her chest.

“Stop that.” Geralt advised. Her eyes briefly flickered to him, questioning burning in her eyes.

“You’re doubting yourself again, stop that.” Geralt explained to her. She just let out half-amused chuckled at that, seeing no true humour in it. Truth be told, Geralt was and still is the only one who ever believed in her, in all the things she did, all the things she pursued. Maybe the only thing he didn’t believe, was her pursuit in soulmates.

“Aren’t you in the position to talk.” Axelia started cynically. “You have love of your life, and she has you… Odd triangle, if you ask me.” She rolled her eyes and finally pulled herself up.

“I must leave, Geralt.” She said turning to him, her eyes momentarily jumping behind him, where one in the distance could see those three on-watchers.

“That’s her. With the dark hair, isn’t it?” she asked, slightly distracted.

“Yes.”

“And that’s… law of surprise child, Ciri…” she trailed off in her observations.

“Yes, and the third is the bard.” Geralt said with slight annoyance in his voice. Axelia’s eyes flickered back to Geralt’s face, her eyebrows furrowing. Without any other words, she turned and started to walk away. Feeling that she should finally give up on her love life. Even if it meant to lie to her own heart every time, she’ll ever stumble upon the witcher. It’s taking toll on her, nor her body, nor her mind and nor her heart could take any more damage.

“To whom are you trying to prove that?” Geralt asked in reminiscence on previous talk, when he didn’t find anything else to say to her to stop her from leaving. Axelia stopped and turned around to look at him.

“Myself.” She said determined about her answer, but it soon that feling disappeared: “I thought that I will prove it today. But then you decided to follow me. And ruin my self-restrain.”

“You have no idea how hard it is to stay away from you, whenever I learn that you are near. It’s like you have this magnetic pull that I can’t resist. My body is ready to go through such dreadful lengths just to bask in your presence. Does that make me clingy or weak? It does, but in that moment, I do not give a single flying fuck. Because that’s how soulmates work, Geralt. You asked me if I know. And I do. I have visited too many mages and sorcerers, just to get rid of all these connections and feelings. Even tried to find a fucking djinn, can you believe?” Axelia started her monologue. Back in Kaer Morhen she always was the one who felt most emotions.

“I want to start o'er so much.” She said quietly to herself, tears of desperation gathering in her eyes. Looking up at the sky, she tried to will them away.

“See? You always have my emotions fucked up.” She smiled at him through tears in her eyes. She was so deep in woods of emotions, and right now, all she wanted was to get into the clear and get rid of everything.

Geralt stood up straighter, about to take a step closer to her. But at the moment she seemed like scared animal, and with shake of her head, she took a step back. Geralt hated to see her cry. She was such of strong woman, such a fierce warrior that could be broken and beaten to the pulp, but she still would stand up and fight, and when she was crying, it meant that she was truly and utterly broken. Not only physically but also mentally.

“Axelia.” Geralt said quietly, cautiously stretching one hand in front of him, showing that he didn’t mean harm.

“Geralt.” Axelia chocked out in same manner. How did she turn from blood spitting fighter into this soft, trembling creature, was beyond Geralt’s apprehension? Did all these years, so far and yet so close to each other, left her in this state of half breaking? This reminded him when they both went through Trials of Dreams where they were going through mutations to improve their vision. He remembered all the screams, grunts and moans of pain as mutations took effect. And when the pain had ended came the clairvoyance. This epiphany type of feeling when one could see in the clearest way, catching every single dust particle in air. He had smelled that velvet rose and sandalwood in the air, signifying that he was still alive. But the utmost silence coming from besides him, where on the other table was supposedly Axelia, made dread settle deep in his gut

“Axelia?” he had questioned her silence as his eyes fell upon her face, the first thing he had the chance to see when he reopened his eyes after all that agonizing pain. And her face had looked like it did now. Full with cruel hurt, tears streaming down her face, as her mouth was half-open in silent scream.

“Geralt?” she had asked, voice trembling, her whole being shaking. The first thing he saw with his new eyes that he had gained through pain, was even more pain. On the face of a girl that was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen; on a person he loves and cares for.

“Geralt? Is everything alright?” Both of them could hear Yennefer’s voice closer. Geralt looked over his shoulder and Axelia looked past him, both of them noticing that all three of them had advanced closer. Yennefer and Ciri quite bravely walking closer, while Jaskier walked behind them – latter knowing better than to interfere.

“I’m dying a little every time I see you with her.” Axelia dried her nose in her sleeve as her eyes turned back to him. But she couldn’t stop them from flicking back to Yennefer and Ciri who still came closer, wanting to know what was going on.

“Hey, is everything alright?” Ciri looked from Geralt to the girl that was in front of them- crying, trembling and holding her injured wrist in her hand close to her heart.

Axelia’s eyes were skipping from one person to another. Too many eyes looking at her, while she was crying and being weak. She was witcher, Geralt never was like that. Her eyes stopped at the sword and dagger that were now in Ciri’s hands. Fuck that, she���ll live without that silver sword for some time. It was very expensive, but she’ll manage. Then her eyes flickered to Yennefer, who was looking at her with confusion. Then to Geralt who’s expression she couldn’t read. Back to Ciri who looked upon the crying girl with sympathy and concern. And in the end her eyes caught on her cloak that Jaskier was holding and her blindfold that was wrapped around his other arm in nonchalant way. It was such contrast, the black fabric with his dark blueish outfit. Axelia’s teary eyes flashed up to meet his. Only apologetic look gracing his features. She-witcher felt so bad and useless at the moment. She awkwardly looked down at the ground and with sob looked up. At no one in particular, somewhere above everybody’s heads. With her tongue running along the front of her teeth, Axelia turned around and went into the forest. Her only escape.

And she run.

And run. The only thing that she knew how to do.

No one followed her, but their eyes collectively turned to Geralt, who was still staring at the forest trees.

“Really, Geralt?” Jaskier questioned, his brows furrowing.

“What did you do?” Ciri asked, her eyes flickering to the woods for a second until returning to Geralt.

“Which time is it? The fourth or something, that you just let her leave like that?” Jaskier continued.

Witcher didn’t answer. And Yennefer didn’t seem happy either.

“I do hope someone will explain all of this.” She said tad annoyed. With slight anger bubbling in her eyes she looked at Jaskier then at Ciri and finally at Geralt. With a grunt witcher turned around and went back to the city, Yennefer hot on his heels and not shutting up about this whole ordeal.

“Dandelion, are you coming?” Ciri asked as she was already walking towards the forest. Jaskier looked at the cloak and tulle fabric in his hands and then looked up at Ciri.

“Are you sure, you can find her?” Jaskier furrowed his brows while catching up with Ciri.

“Geralt thought me, of course I can.” Ciri rolled her eyes playfully and walked along the road that led into the forest.

They had been walking for some time.

“So, who is she?” Ciri asked.

“To me or to Geralt?” Jaskier asked, rearranging his grip on the dark cloak.

“Oh, so she is something to you too?!” Ciri stopped for a second. Geralt once or twice had mentioned something about soulmates and the fact the he had one too. And Ciri today had made a bet with herself that the girl from earlier must have some connections to Geralt, mostly likely this all soulmates thing.

“She is his soulmate, right?” Ciri guessed, glancing down at the sword in her hands.

“Yep.” Jaskier popped the p. Then he explained everything that Geralt had let him know about Axelia, but keeping the details that she herself had told him, to himself.

Meanwhile Axelia was running on the road, hair already fallen out of that messed up ponytail. Her ears catching the sound of stream somewhere on her right. Deep in the woods, off the road. Everything was closing in and she needed to escape. Taking a sharp turn, she dodged into the woods, not following road anymore. She was running, trees scratching her face, her feet stumbling on the fallen tree branches. Her lungs were burning, and her hands started to claw at her corset. With scream of anger she pulled open the string that laced it together at the front. With half-revealed hiss, she threw corset away, her hands latching onto her forearm braces and ridding herself from them too. Unbuttoning first four buttons from the top of her shirt, she leaned against nearby tree. Tears choking her and not letting her take a deep breath of air. She sunk to the ground. Letting out a silent scream as her hands clawed at ground, her nails digging through dead leaves and dirt. She was drowning in her own tears. Breathes just coming out in broken sobs as she tried to pull in new air with choked wheezes. Everything hurt so much, that she couldn’t even stand up anymore. Her mind was worsening her, playing sweet and cherished memories before her blind eyes. She didn’t want to remember anything! She just wanted to be swallowed up by the sound of the stream that was couple feet in front of her.

“No! Stop!” she screamed at herself, her dirty nails now digging in her long hair, and pulling at the tress with such force that her face was pulled up in even more agony. Her thoughts were running circles with unwanted memories. At times, at such quantity that she was ready to run in a tree head first, and just bash her head against it until she won’t feel a thing anymore. She broke, bruised and completely alone.

***

“Why aren’t we staying on the road?” Jaskier asked, as he and Ciri were now in middle of woods and not on a trusty path anymore.

“Because she went this way.” Ciri noted as she looked at all the freshly broken branches and footprints left from Axelia’s stumbles.

“Is this hers?” Ciri asked picking up Axelia’s corset.

“And those are her vambraces...?” Jaskier nodded towards the dark forearm braces that were thrown on the ground further ahead. One further than the other. Beckoning towards Axelia’s whereabouts.

“She mostly likely is at the river.” Ciri concluded.

“Let’s hope she’s not trying to drown herself.” Jaskier mumbled walking onward.

Axelia heard them before anything else. Silent whispers flowing in the wind. And part of her told her to get up and run. But all she could manage to do was sit up against the big tree.

“Oh, please, no…” She mumbled as her tears now were silent. Occasional sob escaping her. She clumped her mouth shut, to shut herself up. Her legs were drawn to her torso, and her chin tilted down towards her chest. With fear she was waiting for the scent to finally reach her. And when she felt it, more panic settled in. At first, she felt rich fragrance, something akin to wild berries, very refined. But her panic subsided a little, when a familiar scent hit her senses. Her head immediately snapped up, her eyes welling up even more. It was familiar, but not familiar in a way that could make her run away again. It was scent that reminded her of the times when she needed someone to resort in, someone she could rely on and talk freely to. Not hiding her emotions, not keeping up the perfect witcher image. She had needed trusty ears, who would listen and not judge her. Someone who could give her false shelter from outside world and her own emotions. Even if it was for a little moment.

Then she heard the sound of two pairs of feet stepping through the dry leaves. The sound of crunching making her feel like scared animal, who is waiting for the predator to finally strike. The gentle breeze of wind, made the two scents more prominent. The second scent making her risk all of it and glance around the big tree trunk. She carefully putted her hand on the ground and with one eye she peered behind the tree. Her eyes scanned over the trees, firstly catching on the white-haired girl, that was saying something, her eyes glued on the ground in front of her feet. Then her eyes zeroed onto the second person.

Jaskier was the first of two who noticed Axelia hiding behind a tree. With small gasp he slowed his steps. Trying to show to the hurt girl, that he meant no harm. At that Ciri noticed her too, and stopped all together, not wanting to make the girl feel threatened.

“Axelia?” Jaskier questioned her, still slowly approaching her. Axelia’s eyes locked with his at the call of her name.

“Jaskier…” Axelia choked as she quickly pushed herself up. Pushing off of a tree she run to him, crushing in his chest as tears stared falling down her cheeks again, staining his shirt. Praying that she could just wish all this away.

“I’m here.” He mumbled in her hair, his eyes briefly flicking to Ciri, who only held all the sympathy for the girl in Jaskier’s arms.

~~~~

part I || part II || part III || part IV || part V || part VI || part VII || part VIII || part IX || part X || part XI || part XII || part XIII | Epilogue

tags:

@boiled-onionrings​ @fandomwithnolifesblog​ @901seconds​ @kingniazx​ @shesakillerkween @your-dreams-are-strong​ @stitchattacks​ @ayamenimthiriel​ @stormfire6​ @mr-illegal-king​ @stretchkingblog97​ @mikariell95​ @geralt-of-motherfucking-rivia​ @martian-m​ @republicansithlord​ @notso-fetch​ @lizliz3107​ @godlydolans​ @arsaky-lou​ @eternallyvenus​ @le-reina-asesina @alwayshave-faith​ @writingmi​ @staringmoony​ @kenai731 @holychic​ @dramaticturnaway​ @ihopeyousteponarosepetal​ @seouldesire​ @runs-with-sciss0rs @yes-captainstark​​ @fandomhell97​​ @newtdisneywho​​

[leviathanswingman]

killing me softly, chapter 10: the intervention

„Lord Diavolo, this is an intervention.“

The words were echoing through the music room as everyone kept quiet for several moments.

Then, Diavolo crossed his arms in front of his chest and tilted his head. „An intervention, you say? You should have told me beforehand, I would have prepared a bit more. Who is it for?“

Satan stared at the demon prince intensely. „You have got to be kidding me,“ he murmured as he turned around to Yuuta, who was sitting next to him on the couch. „It's useless, they're both complete idiots.“ He shook his head in disbelief and Yuuta shrugged his shoulders in defeat.

Barbatos shushed them with a vague hand gesture as he approached Diavolo.

„Which is exactly why we are forced to do this,“ he added to Satan's statement. He pushed his pointer a little too hard for comfort against Diavolo's chest as he invaded his space. „We're doing this for both your and Lucifer's sake, since neither of you seem reasonable enough to put an end to this nonsense. This intervention today is for you, my lord.“

Diavolo stared at him and blinked in confusion. „Oh? And what exactly would this be about? Did I do anything that would warrant an intervention?“

Belphegor, leaning against Beelzebub's shoulder, yawned. „It's about the obvious boner you have for Luci-“ he drawled lazily, yet loud enough for the whole room to hear before Beel quickly slapped his hand over Belphie's mouth.

„Belphie!“

Belphegor pulled his brother's hand away from his mouth. „What, I'm just saying what everyone was thinking.“

Asmodeus grinned as he watched his younger brothers. „I couldn't have said it better myself!“

Mammon smacked the back of Asmo's head. „Oi, stop playing around!“

„Ow! I didn't do anything! You could've ruined my beautiful hair, you could've given me a concussion with that! Do you really want to see your cute baby brother dead so badly, you brute?!“

„Guys, now is not the time. As much as I hate to say it, we're here to help that bastard Lucifer,“ Yuuta chimed in.

Diavolo watched their conversation with cautious eyes. „You all know,“ he said, more of a statement rather than a question.

All eight pairs of eyes went straight back to Diavolo.

Asmo's head snapped back to Barbatos. „He knows?!“ he cried in disbelief.

„Yes, he knows. I caught him and Lucifer, as you would put it, in flagrante.“

„You did what?!“

„Ya caught them doing what?! Didn't think Lord Diavolo had game like that. I mean, to seduce Lucifer of all people, ya gotta have some damn good skills.“

Diavolo raised his hands in defence. „I might not know what you're trying to suggest with 'in flagrante', but I get the feeling that there's a big misunderstanding here. It is true though that I am aware of Lucifer's hanahaki. I was with him when he suddenly collapsed and started to vomit flowers. I was really worried so I carried him to my private chambers and tended to his needs.“

Levi's eyes shot up and he twiddled with the zipper of his hoodie as he approached Lord Diavolo. „I've watched a lot of anime about the hanahaki disease, so I guess you could say I'm somewhat of an expert in that department. So you were with him when it happened? Are you sure about that? I mean you could be making a mistake. Are you 100-  no, are you 1000% positive about that?“ he urged, his words picking up in both pace and volume the more he talked.

Mammon, straddling a chair as he had his arms crossed over the backrest, shook his head. „Whaddaya mean 'are ya sure'? How can ya not be sure of something like that. Ya wanna get popped too, Levi?“

“I'm asking if he was the only one present when it happened, you moron!” Levi now mustered Lord Diavolo more intensely. “No matter what I've read or watched about hanahaki, the person present during most of the attacks generally turned out to most likely be the cause for the disease,” he muttered and leaned a bit closer towards Diavolo. “It doesn't seem too impossible if you really think about it, right?”

Mammon stood up and walked over to his brother, plopping down on the couch next to him, bent over with his forearms resting on his thighs.

“Are ya implying what I think ya are? Lucifer has that damn disease because of Lord Diavolo? It's Lucifer we're talking about! Lucifer! I can't even wrap my head around the idea of him having any lovey dovey feelings for anyone to begin with!”

“Precisely. Which is why this is the only plausible conclusion, right Barbatos?” Satan questioned.

With that, Beel walked over to Diavolo and placed his hands on his shoulders, gently pushing him down onto another chair. “Maybe it's better if you sit down for this.”

Diavolo didn't protest and simply sat down, interlocking his hands as he let his elbows rest on the arm leans, a now thoughtful expression on his face. For a moment, he was quiet before turning around to Barbatos.

“I see your concern,” he started, “but I am not the solution to this problem. I want to help Lucifer just as much as every single one of you do, but even I can't just save him like that.” His eyes darkened considerably as he redirected his gaze to the ground. “No matter how much I want to,” he mumbled, barely audible.

Barbatos crossed his arms as he took in the sorry sight of his sulking lord. A sigh escaped his lips. “You are not listening, my lord. There is quite literally no other person who would come even remotely close to being a possible suspect. I found out about Lucifer's disease even before you did.  It was the night of our return to RAD, right after Lucifer welcomed us back.” As he continued talking he slowly made his way towards Diavolo's chair. “Don't you remember his strange behaviour? The way he had suddenly disappeared?”

“Well-”

“Excuse my rude interruption, but I will fill you in as to what happened. I followed him and caught him as he had a severe hanahaki attack and lost consciousness. I confronted him after he woke up again. Although I will not reveal what exactly it was that Lucifer told me, I can say as much: I was very blunt with him and he did not deny anything I accused him of. Yet also, he once again proved to be incredibly stubborn. I urged him to confess to that person, but he vehemently refused to do so.”

Diavolo sighed as he rubbed his temples. “Him and that stupid pride of his. Why didn't he say anything? If I hadn't caught him that day, I would still be none the wiser now.”

Now Asmodeus chimed in as well. “I also tried to give him advice, but all he did was rudely choke me and then later throw a flower pot after me. Point taken, I did overdo it and teased him a bit too much, but now that I think of it, he didn't correct any of my assumptions either, did he, Yuuta?”

For a moment Yuuta kept quiet as he went back to their conversation in Lucifer's study. “Yeah, he threw you around like a rag doll and yelled at us to mind our own business, but he didn't say anything else. He definitely didn't deny anything.”

Asmodeus sighed as he threw his arms around Yuuta. “And I thought him and Diavolo had already talked it out! Lord Diavolo, after you asked little old me to call Lucifer to distract him I was so certain that everything would be alright and we'd have another power couple at RAD soon! Is romance really dead nowadays?” he sulked and Yuuta petted his head.

“Speaking of,” Satan added, “when I came to talk to him, I saw a peculiar thing. I expected him to be alone but when I opened the door, I walked in on him and Diavolo sleeping together in the same bed. This really doesn't help your case now, does it Diavolo?”

The whole room filled with murmurs.

“Asleep in the same bed?? How dirty! I really didn't take you for the casanova type, Lord Diavolo!”

“Asmo, now is not the-”

Levi quickly sprung up. “I just saw him in the bathroom! For some reason he had punched a hole in the stall wall, which really reminded me of 'My heart keeps racing whenever I look at you but we are childhood friends who are cursed to stay five feet apart from each other so I couldn't possibly love you', which is a-”

Voices kept overlapping until the room was filled with a crescendo of chaos. Diavolo still sat on his chair, troubled, as the demon brothers came up with instance after instance, irrefutable evidence filling his ears bit by bit, instance after instance.

“Jesus fuck, y'all make me want to take up smoking again,” Yuuta muttered as he threw an annoyed gaze at Barbatos. “Was this really a good idea?”

For the shortest of moments Barbatos was wondering the same thing. After all, Lucifer had been this secretive to not get anyone else involved, especially not his brothers.

Then, Barbatos remembered his plan, any former doubt crushed again.

“Do not fret, everything is going according to plan,” he told Yuuta confidently.

As Lucifer's brothers were still talking over each other, Barbatos rounded the chair and faced Diavolo. “My Lord, is this finally enough proof to you?”

Finally, Diavolo lifted his head and faced Barbatos, the expression on his face unreadable. After a short moment he sighed, running his hands over his thighs in an agitated fashion.

“Silence!” his voice suddenly boomed and everyone went quiet. He stood up and started to pace the room. “I know Lucifer does not love me. I have known for a long time,” he growled. There was no use hiding his feelings anymore, after all, they had never been much of a secret to begin with.

“But-” Levi began to butt in, but was quickly shushed by Barbatos.

Diavolo continued. “As I said before, I am aware of the difference between my love for Lucifer and his devotion to me. I respect your brother, which is why I am content with the loyalty he gives me.” He stopped in his tracks and turned around to Lucifer's brothers again. “But I see your concern and I see the points you've made, which is why I will humour you this once. After all, we all have the same goal. We all want to see Lucifer get better.” He clenched his fists. “Still, I am not the culprit you are looking for. Whatever it takes, I will find them and make them take responsibility. Even if it means giving Lucifer away to someone who clearly doesn't deserve him.” Even if it means losing a little part of him, Diavolo added in his thoughts. He unclenched his fists and let out a deep breath. “Leave me alone now, I need to think.”

One after another, the brothers left, stunned by Diavolo's sudden outburst. They could still feel the pressure of Diavolo's undeniable power lingering in the air.

Eventually, everyone except for Barbatos and Diavolo had left. Quietly, Diavolo pulled on Barbatos' sleeve, trying to catch his attention.

“Yes, my lord?”

“How much time do we have left? To sort this out, I mean?” he asked and Barbatos watched him carefully. He hadn't witnessed Lord Diavolo this upset in a long time. Although outwardly, the demon prince still looked rather collected, inwardly, he was clearly upset and worried. For a moment, Barbatos saw the child in him again, saw the boy he used to tend after in an empty, lonely palace, saw a boy eagerly waiting for the return of a father who had left, only to be disappointed over and over again. That boy who used to cover his pain with boisterous laughter and bright expressions was standing before him again, just as he had been back then.

Barbatos smiled sadly. “You have three days at most. I would recommend you talk to him after the celebration as he is quite busy now. Three days are the most I can give you. I have always been one to be frank with you, Lord Diavolo. He will not make it to day four.”

Diavolo let go of Barbatos' sleeve and straightened his posture, a certain sadness in his eyes. “Thank you. I'm glad I can always count on you, Barbatos.”

“Of course, my lord.”

With that, Diavolo left the music room, making his way towards his chambers, lost in thought. Memories of Lucifer flashed through his mind, unwavering and unforgiving.

The first time they met, the undeniable pull he had felt towards him the moment those deep red eyes had focused on only him, a disgusted expression sullying Lucifer's angelic features. He had looked so different back then. Clad in white, baby blue and gold, dark locks framing his face, falling down his back, down his back to where innocent white, magnificent wings were softly swaying with the breeze.

Then there was the time after Lucifer's fall from heaven. Barbatos and him had gathered Lucifer up, had picked up all the angry pieces, offering a deal. It was a deal Lucifer had taken with such fury and passion, a deal Lucifer had made with such pride. Under Lucifer's bitter gaze, Diavolo had known, he was in trouble.

And oh, in how much trouble he was now.

No matter what it would take, no matter how much it would hurt him, Diavolo was fully committed to saving Lucifer. After all, he was his one and only, his perfect morning star.

His Lucifer.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6 , Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9,  Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13

*nsfw chapter

taglist: @el-does-photography

[damienthepious]

oo would you do an author commentary starting from around "I… I don't… I don't-" remember, he does not say.”? that whole last section had me Weak honestly, I loved this chapter!!

[Pick a short passage from any fanfic I’ve written and send it to me, and I’ll give you the equivalent of a DVD commentary on that snippet]

YES GOOD THANK YOU LET’S GO

Before I even get started. I’m not saying that Arum verbally and mentally recognizing Damien as a poet was a habit that snuck in before I realized that Arum shouldn’t know that what with the amnesia, but i’m also not not saying that. Don’t worry about it. Being a fuckup is the mother of invention 🥰

["I… I don't… I don't-" remember, he does not say. A loaded phrase, when certainly it is only- he is simply confused, of course. His mind has been rattled by all of this nonsense, that is all.] More denial than lizard. He doesn’t WANT to be even more out of control of his own mind than he already feels.

["The Keep-" he pauses, considers. "The concept would not translate so directly in its song, if it were to bring your prattling up, I would likely interpret it as calling you a singer, as well. And Amaryllis- I do not think she… I am almost certain that she did not mention… but-"] I can’t imagine the Keep having an internal label that would separate poetry from song, since its own song is speech. why separate them? Explaining that is entirely unnecessary tho, and a distraction on Arum’s part. And Rilla definitely didn’t mention. Uh Oh, Arum!

["Almost certain?" Damien asks, his tone a little pleading, and Arum grits his teeth.] Arum.... hates how easily he can read Damien’s emotions. And he hates how much he wants, automatically, to respond to those emotions. Mostly, though, he’s just frustrated with Damien pulling at this thread, because it makes him deeply uncomfortable.

["You told me," Arum says instead. "I am certain that you did. You- you are- a poet by trade, that is what you said."] Well. He is right, isn’t he? Damien did tell him. Those are the words he said. And Arum is unsettled and Arum doesn’t want to think about his broken memory and Arum just want to throw out the first solution that springs to his mind without examining it at ALL and so what comes out-

unexamined instinct.

[Damien goes still, like the center of a storm.] Damien knows words. Damien knows his own words. Damien has, by turns, both agonized over and cherished his first interactions with Lord Arum. He remembers them. And this morning? He chose his words so carefully. He knows what he didn’t say as much as he knows what he did.

["When," he says, his voice low and blank, and when Arum glances towards him his eyes gleam, sharp bright bronze that will pin him if he lets it.] at some point i decided that Damien’s eyes are tawny hazel and now i just live with it. Arum’s gotta live with it too. [He looks away again before that look can make him do anything more that swallow in discomfort.] HEY ARUM WHAT DO HIS EYES MAKE YOU WANNA DO, DUDE. ["When did I say that to you, Lord Arum?"] Damien. Pushing. Because he cannot think of an explanation for Arum knowing that, now, that doesn’t change everything about their situation, and he’s holding himself together as tightly as he can so he doesn’t just start yelling and shaking Arum at the shoulders, which would be substantially less helpful.

["Hush," Arum says compulsively, unsettled.] Compulsively. Hush. A very... gentle sort of admonishment, hm? Arum’s mouth is running away with him. ["During the duel. Obviously. While you were prattling, as you always do."] Running away with him, on instinct, giving the answers the instant they leap to his tongue, not letting himself think about them, trying to get Damien to stop looking at him like that, trying to claw back an ounce of control. And failing.

["As I always do," Damien echoes, and Arum scowls at the tremulous edge in his tone.] Damien is a weak inch from losing his mind, not gonna lie. ["I said those words to you during a duel," he says slowly, "that much is true. During our first, in fact."] In direct opposition to Arum’s defensive stream-of-consciousness deflections, Damien is speaking precisely and with as much clarity as he can muster. He’s testing, trying to see how Arum responds. Trying to see how much Arum is actually remembering, trying to work out if Arum realizes that he’s remembering! AND, trying not to actively freak Arum out any more than absolutely necessary in the process.

["That-" Arum's breath catches in his throat, starting a low rattle of discomfort. "Don't be foolish. That's not possible. Or- you must have said the same again this morning."] and the brakes screech. Arum would know if he remembered something, wouldn’t he? He doesn’t! He doesn’t remember any duels besides the one this morning, the embarrassing mess that ended with him on his back practically begging for Damien, he would know if he regained his memories, he would-

["I spoke your own words, in our duel today," the knight says.] deliberately not thinking of Damien as a poet, just now ["I have not forgotten a single detail of our first meeting, Lord Arum, and it was on that day that I called myself a poet by trade. If you know I am a poet, and it is my voice by which you know this, then-"] Damien is convinced enough that he lets himself just run through it, lets himself express a bit of that hope-

[Arum rounds on him before the tremor of emotion in his voice can waver beyond control, snarling as close to Damien's face as he dares.] And Arum can’t fucking deal with it. For a number of reasons. He’s shaken by the idea that the memories could surface without him realizing it. He’s unsettled, again, by Damien knowing him more thoroughly than anyone should, better than he seems to know himself. And, notably,

he’s terrified of the difference between himself, now, and the version of himself that these humans love so dearly. If he gets the memories back, if he doesn’t know who he is- is he still even himself? Who is he? if he doesn’t recover the memories, what does he even have left of his life? If he DOES... will he simply... disappear into this newer, better self?

AND i’m gonna break it there, and i will do the LAST section of the chapter, in the NEXT commentary ;3c

[starwalker42]

And The World Keeps Spinning [1/2]

This is for the X-Files Fluff Exchange by @xfilesfanficexchange, which was a huge leap out of my comfort zone but I’m so glad I signed up to! My prompt was “something fluffy around Mulder and Scully spending Valentines together either as a new couple or maybe not a couple yet” from @kristinsauter, and I really hope I did it justice! Part 2 to follow x (Link to A03)

This is all my fault. Frohike would probably disagree, but he wouldn’t have been able to talk me into this if I hasn’t had those beers, so I only have myself to blame, really.

It was barely a week after New Year’s, and it shouldn’t have surprised me that with only one drink down I was already talking about that night; every morning since, I’d woken with the memory of Scully’s lips on mine, and despite my best intentions I’d found myself dreaming about it during the day, too.

Originally the guys had been ecstatic, but when it became apparent that was as far as we’d gone- and that we hadn’t discussed it since- praise quickly turned to exasperation. Frohike gave the most world-weary sigh I’ve ever heard, Langly started off on one of his lectures- dude, are you serious, what the hell- and even Byers looked unimpressed.

“You can’t kiss a lady when the world’s about to end and not take her out for dinner,” Frohike commented around his beer.

I can’t remember what exactly my excuse was- probably something about it not being the right time, about how she was my partner, not just some random hookup, and that it wasn’t as easy as ‘taking her out for dinner’- but I don’t think they listened anyway.

“You can’t leave her hanging, dude.”

“I know you’re nervous, Mulder, but you should ask her.”

“Just take her to Casey’s-”

I shot down Frohike’s idea almost before it was out of his mouth. “My first date with Scully is not going to be Casey’s.”

“Unless you get your head out of your ass I don’t think it’ll happen at all.” Langly drawled, and that did it.

“I’ll do it! I’m going to ask her out for Valentine’s.”

“Why the wait?”

In my mind, it was to leave enough time for this conversation to be forgotten and for the guys to never bring up the subject again. But of course, that didn’t happen, and last week they were the ones reminding me about what I’d said. I’d promised I’d ask her when we were out of town on this new case with the VCU.

I haven’t.

I’d meant to, several times, but the moment was never right: the words just hadn’t come out, or we’d been discussing the case, or been standing over a skinned corpse… you get the idea. So now we’re in the office, on the 13th February, having worked non-stop for seven days, and I’m trying to delay my inevitable exit my packing my bag as slowly as humanly possible while Scully finishes filling in her report. She always takes longer; she has to be precise and make sure everything’s filled in right, can’t just scribble stuff down like I can.

Normally I love that about her- today I just want her to hurry up so she can leave the office and I can stay down here in my self-created loneliness for the rest of my miserable life. The guys are going to have a field day when they find out about how badly this has gone.

“Penny for them.”

I glance up and meet Scully’s smiling eyes. She raises her eyebrow expectantly and I find myself unable to come up with a suitable lie. The words come out on top of each other.

“I was just wondering if you want to come over tomorrow night. For dinner.”

I have to look away, can’t stand to see the unavoidable pity and rejection in her face.

“Sure, sounds great.”

I almost feel the floor fall from under me. My cheeks are on fire as I feel my face break out into a smile I can’t stop.

“Uh, okay, cool.” My bag almost falls from my hand as I fumble with it. “See you at seven?”

“I’ll be there.”

Is that my heart pounding?

      ��                                                    xXx

Mulder grabs his coat, stops briefly in the doorway to run his hand across the back of his neck, and says to the floor, “See you tomorrow.”

I stop trying to decode his behaviour. It’s been a long week. “See you tomorrow.”

And then he’s gone.

Tomorrow is Monday, which would normally mean we’d be in each other’s company for a good ten hours or so in the office, but after this past week Skinner’s practically begged us to take a few days off so I’ve threatened Mulder that on pain of death he must not step foot in this building until Wednesday at the earliest. I know it might be just as hard to keep me away.

I’m looking forward to a few days off, of course I am- I haven’t had a bath in lord knows how long- but the longer I’m away from the office, the less I can relax. Okay, that’s not true- the longer I’m away from Mulder would probably be a better way of putting it. As pathetic as it sounds, if I’m away from him for much longer than a day it just feels wrong. I feel wrong. I’m sure some would call it dependency, and while I’m not sure about that I know that when I’m away from him, even if I know exactly where he is and what he’s doing, even if he’s only a phone call away, I’m lonely. I don’t know when but somewhere along the line it became clear that I’m happiest when I’m by his side; that I’m safer, more comfortable, and somehow more whole when I’m with him. I feel like myself.

Our classic method of hiding what I’m beginning to suspect is a mutual need for contact is anything can hide behind the safe veneer of a night in between friends, more often than not in the form of a takeaway and a terrible movie on Mulder’s couch. It’s happened enough times that at this point I’m expecting it at times like this, so I’m a little shocked that Mulder thinks it necessary to have to make pre-arranged plans. Surely he knows he could call me at 6 tomorrow night and I’d be over in half an hour?

I again remind myself to stop trying to work out my partner, and try to be content with the knowledge that I understand him a hell of a lot better than anyone else. The thought makes me smile as I grab my keys and leave the office.

It isn’t until I’m driving back home and see, of all things, the Victoria’s Secret window display, that I realise what day it is tomorrow. It’s not just Monday. It’s Valentine’s Day.

It’s fucking Valentine’s Day.

My first thought is to dismiss it as a coincidence: Mulder forgets even my birthday, and it’s been a long hard week, and if I forgot then it’s likely he did too… but then I remember the way he couldn’t meet my eyes, the way his cheeks flushed, the relieved smile he gave when I said yes.

He knows what day tomorrow is.

And I’m pretty sure he’s asked me on a date.

And I’ve said yes.

Holy shit.

                                                            xXx

It’s not until the doors to the elevator close behind me that I allow myself to breathe.

Holy shit.

I just asked Scully out. On a date. A Valentine’s date. And she didn’t roll her eyes, or oh brother me, or deck me one in the face. She said yes.

Holy shit!

I don’t know how to do this. How long has it been since I was on a date? Should I book a restaurant somewhere? Is it acceptable to get takeout? What the hell am I supposed to wear? My the time I’m at the garage I’ve managed to talk myself into a spiral of panic, and I’m very close to calling Scully and cancelling before I remember that ultimately, that’s who I’m doing this for. Scully.

I don’t have to dress up or create some fake-perfect evening for her, because that’s not our thing. And tomorrow is about us.

On my way back, I stop at the store and buy a bottle of wine- one of the expensive ones that Scully never admits she has at her place- and decide to risk forgoing takeout and buying ingredients in the hopes that I can still remember how to cook carbonara. I don’t know what I’d even begin to write in a card, so I don’t even glance at them, but at the flower display I have to stop. I’ve only ever bought Scully flowers when she was in hospital, but if there’s any time to break a tradition it’s now. Red roses are too forward, and too traditional, and everything else seems to be the same shade of pink that I know Scully will hate. I’m about to give up when I see the smaller bouquets at the front- well, one in particular. It’s a beautiful mix of what look like white roses and a whole mix of others that I can’t identify apart from their colour- blue. They’re almost exactly the same shade as Scully’s eyes, so close that it almost takes my breath away.

They’re the ones.

The cashier doesn’t seem surprised by my purchases- I assume she’s used to harried customers buying last minute Valentine’s gifts- and a few minutes later I’m back in my car and driving home. I feel my face breaking out into a ridiculous grin, and don’t try to contain it.

                                                           xXx

I’ve been on edge all day. I’ve tried going for a run, having a bath, reading some of my book, but I can’t relax. It’s now 4pm and I’m judging that to be a suitable time to start getting ready, especially because if I leave it any longer I think I might scream. Also I’m likely to need another three hours just to work out what the hell I’m going to wear, and how to come across as completely relaxed about this entire situation. How long has it been since I went on a proper date? How long since I’ve been on one and actually enjoyed it?

Ed Jerse comes to mind, but deep down I think I know that I didn’t really enjoy it, that what I enjoyed was the concept. Letting go and getting away from myself in the way that no one would expect from straight-laced Agent Scully. But even at the time, I wasn’t enjoying it. I remember closing my eyes and trying to imagine it was Mulder inside me, having to bite my tongue so I didn’t cry out his name. It occurs to me that if things go to plan tonight, I might actually end up in the place I’d wished for those years ago. Mulder and I might have sex tonight. Okay, now I really need to go and have a shower. A cold one.

I can’t get the picture out of my mind, though. If I’m being honest, I haven’t been able to get it out of my mind for a while now. And our kiss on New Year’s didn’t exactly help things in that regard. I’m pretty sure it’s no longer a question of if but when we cross that final line, and if it hadn’t been for Mulder’s injuries, I think we would’ve crossed it that very same night.

But maybe it’s better this way; at least now I can prepare somewhat. I straighten my hair for what must be the third time today, and try to work out how best to do my makeup without looking like I’ve been thinking about it too hard, which ultimately means that I redo it several times before I’m happy. I second guess myself on what to wear about a dozen times as well, going between completely casual (jeans and a t-shirt) to the frankly overdressed (an evening gown I’ve had for years and never worn), and everything in-between.

In the end I opt for a V-neck sweater that Melissa bought for me all those years ago, one that I’ve only worn a handful of times and only never out of the house. It’s gorgeous material, cosy and soft, but it was clearly either designed for someone with bigger breasts or with a bigger load of self confidence because on my chest it’s somewhat loose, and definitely not the kind of thing I’d normally wear. If it wasn’t that Melissa had bought it for me I think I would’ve got rid of it by now, but I’m glad I didn’t. I can’t wait to see Mulder’s face.

                                                          xXx

There’s a knock on the door ten minutes before seven. I’m not even surprised: it’s Scully, of course she’s early. In a way I’m glad, because dinner is almost ready and part of me had been dreading the point where minutes after minutes went by without her showing up until it became clear that she was never going to.

Now as I hear her knock on the door I allow myself to breathe a sigh of relief that all of this- making dinner, buying wine, cleaning the apartment, putting on one of my best shirts- wasn’t for nothing. An instant later panic hits again. Oh god. Scully’s here, which means this is actually happening. Oh god.

I realise I’ve been frozen in the kitchen when I hear another knock, slightly louder this time, and remember that even though Scully has a key and is more than willing to use it under normal circumstances, she’s likely to not be so keen right now. Okay. Okay, I can do this.

My hand trembles as I slide the bolt across and pull the door open. I’m apologising almost immediately, too anxious to let the words take their time.

“Hey, sorry, I heard you I just had to make sure the food wasn’t-” and then I actually look at her, and- “Wow.”

It’s not exactly a new thought, not particularly different to what usually goes through my mind when I look at her, but her appearance tonight is… wow. I can’t pinpoint what it is, exactly, and can only conclude it’s some magical combination of a slightly darker lipstick than usual, the smile she’s giving me, and the fact that I can see so many more inches of her beautiful skin than usual thanks to the cut of the sweater she’s wearing. How the hell does the sight of her clavicle do these things to me?

Noticing the way Scully’s eyes glance up and down my body while I’m still stood in the doorway, I step back to allow her in and close the door behind her. My hands? Still shaking with the best of them.

“Can I take your coat?”

“Uh… yeah. Thanks.”

My hands don’t feel like they belong to me as I slide the jacket off of her, not missing the way she gasps when my fingers accidently brush the exposed skin of her collarbone. I hang it up and briefly turn my attention back to the stove, where the spaghetti is at risk of overflowing, and try to breathe. Scully is too quiet.

“I’ve got wine if you want?” I ask over my shoulder, but she’s gone. “Scully?”

“In here.” Her voice comes from somewhere else in the apartment, out of sight.

I turn down the stove and head through to the living room. She’s stood at my desk, and I immediately know what she’s found. I’d hoped I could at least get her to have a drink before she saw I’d bought her flowers.

“These are for me.” It’s not a question.

“Oh, actually they were for my other date, but she didn’t show,” I joke, trying to ignore the pounding of my heart. Were they a mistake? And did I just call Scully my date-?

There’s an indecipherable expression on her face when she turns to face me. “No man’s ever bought me flowers before.”

Somehow I find that hard to believe doesn’t seem like the correct response, especially because I know my partner, and I know this isn’t how she messes with me. She’s being honest, and somehow without thinking I find myself doing the same.

“They reminded me of you.” She raises an eyebrow. “They’re the same blue as your eyes.”

I catch the way her cheeks flush before she glances away, and hear the quiet thank you she gives to the floor before she speaks up.

“You don’t drink wine, Mulder.”

I hear the pan bubbling from the kitchen again. “Yeah, well, you’d better not go teetotal on me now, Scully, because otherwise I’m going to have to start.”

She raises her eyes and gives a smirk. “I’ll get a glass.”

                                                          xXx

I don’t think I’ve ever been as surprised by Mulder as I have been tonight. He’s bought my favourite wine, he’s got me flowers- beautiful ones at that- he’s made dinner for us even though I was 90% sure he’d never cooked in his life, and now it appears he’s had time to stop off at Blockbuster to empty the romcom aisle.

“What’re we feeling?” He spreads the VHS cases across the coffee table and looks over to me expectantly. We’re almost touching on the couch.

My head is a little fuzzy with wine and the giddiness that comes with being too close to Mulder for too long, and rather than answering immediately I find myself just looking into his eyes for a long minute. I can feel it, the familiar magnetism between us, and for once I realise that nothing should be holding us back from giving in to it. I’m tipsy, and Mulder’s been drinking beer during dinner, so I know he’s not exactly sober either. We’re here, in private, together. It would be so easy to give in. So why don’t I? With liquid courage, I lean forwards and send a thanks to whoever created Valentine’s Day and gave me an excuse to press my lips against his.

Neither of us move, I don’t think we dare to, and the outcome isn’t much different to that first kiss on New Year’s Eve- a somewhat gentle, trepidatious kiss that feels like it lasts forever and still ends far too soon.

“You choose.” I manage as we disengage, noticing how much huskier my voice has become.

Mulder doesn’t even look, just grabs a tape at random and manages to get it into the player before returning to sit next to me. I press myself against his side and smile when I feel his arm come to wrap around my shoulders, like it belongs there. The first few beats of ‘Be My Baby’ play from the TV, and I hum in approval of Mulder’s choice.

“You know, I’ve never watched this film.” His voice is low and soft in my ear.

“What? It’s a classic American movie,” I whisper back.

“That’s what every woman says. It’s a chick flick.”

“Patrick Swayze’s not your type?”

He presses a quick kiss to my cheek as we settle back against the couch. “You know exactly what my type is.”

You know what Mulder? I think I might be beginning to work it out.

[sellyoursoulforagoodfic]

Mercenary Chapter 7

Maul x reader

Word Count: 1849

Summary: So Qi’ra exists, and you’re not happy about it.

“Dryden Vos is coming tomorrow to introduce us to his new pet,” Maul informed you as soon as he came storming out of the room that housed his holocom.

Earlier that morning, it had been the incessant ringing of that exact holocom that woke the two of you from a peaceful slumber. It was housed in the room immediately next to your bedroom so no one would be able to eavesdrop without having to go through your private quarters. And no one would live through trying to do that. So already, neither of you was in a good mood.

“Why is his pet our problem?” you complained from your place still lounging on the (admittedly luxurious) bed. Making the bedroom as nice as possible was your top priority after security after returning to the fortress on Dathomir. You were not blind enough to miss the way Maul’s eyes trailed up your form, clearly liking the sight of you lying partially exposed on the blood red, satin sheets.

“Apparently, he sees a future for her. He’s been training her in combat, and she’s proven to be quite bloodthirsty.”

“She’s using him,” you deadpanned. “I know her type. She’ll use him for power until she gets the chance to get rid of him; then she’ll kill him.”

“Which is precisely what I said, but he argued that I haven’t met her so I couldn’t know that. According to him, she is a ‘dancer’ while fighting.”

You giggled a little at the way he rolled his eyes while quoting Dryden. “That doesn’t mean she’s not going to kill him one day.”

“If Dryden is that fooled by her, he deserves his fate. We do not have room in this organization for such idiotic behavior.”

“He wouldn’t be the first to have his brain sucked out through his dick by a woman.”

The zabrak raised a brow. “Are you trying to tell me something?”

“Yes, I’ve been fucking you for years just to take your place at the head of an organization that I helped you build.”

“Except you fell for my sparkling personality in the process, and hoped that I’d never find out about your original plan, right?”

“Oh, exactly,” you grinned. “Come here,” you demanded, reaching a hand out towards him.

Entertaining you, he offered one of his hands to you as he stepped forward. “Yes?”

“Tell me, did he realize that you were wearing a bathrobe?”

Maul snorted. “No, he believes that I wear dramatic cloaks like he does.”

“If I recall correctly, you used to wear things like that,” you teased.

“That was a long time ago.”

“So was the last time you laid with me.”

“Now, that is a lie considering that I left you less than twenty minutes ago.”

“See? Forever.”

~

The next day saw you and Maul in the central area of the fortress, dressed to impress while waiting for Dryden’s ridiculous ship to arrive. Maul was wearing his usual attire: black clothes fit for combat at any moment, lightsaber hanging from his belt. You were in full armor for the first time since you reclaimed the fortress two months prior. Beskar pieces decorated your right shoulder and left thigh--raided from a Mandalorian settlement long ago--while strong, flexible leathers guarded everywhere else. You prioritized mobility with your armor given your fighting style, so full metal like the Mandalorians wouldn’t do. A staff was strapped across your back along with a sniper rifle, a knife at your calf, and a blaster at your hip. This was to be a show of power to an extent; the object of the presentation showing Qi’ra who was truly in charge.

Every other guard was in standard armor derived from a mixture of old Nightbrother and Mandalorian in looks. The people that worked directly under Maul in the fortress were the most trusted in the entirety of Crimson Dawn, and they were sworn to secrecy about the nature of your relationship with him. Neither Dryden or Qi’ra would be seeing any sort of attachment that could be seen as a weakness today.

“Relax,” Maul muttered under his breath after you shifted for the too-many-ith time. “You’re a professional.”

“Yes, but she isn’t. I don’t like the idea of someone like her claiming the same position I hold; makes it seem less . . .” You couldn’t come up with the word.

“She is the bed-warmer and bodyguard to a figurehead. I would hardly call that the same as your position.”

“There are those that would disagree,” you grumbled.

Finally, the door opened, revealing Dryden Vos and an admittedly beautiful woman you assumed to be Qi’ra. She was dressed to impress, that was sure, in a simple yet stunning dark blue dress that looked completely impractical for any sort of combat. Apparently, she assumed that since they were going to visit Dryden’s boss, protection would be insured. Your eyes narrowed when you noticed how her dark eyes trailed over your lover’s frame.

Foolish. Never trust people you haven’t met, and then still don’t trust them.

“Dryden,” Maul greeted cooly, “and Qi’ra, I assume?”

“That she is, a true marvel wouldn’t you say?” Dryden grinned, clearly proud of his second-in-command.

“Beautiful, I’ll give her that,” you decided. You didn’t miss the way Dryden’s facial markings flushed with his anger, but even he wasn’t bold enough to speak out against you. “Matches the rest of your collection.”

“Excuse me, who are you?” You had to respect the level of control she displayed over her facial expressions. “I’m afraid I’ve heard nothing about either of you.”

“Such caution is the reason any of us are alive,” Maul spoke up, glancing at you over his shoulder. The warning in his gaze was clear: ‘calm down.’

“Darling, this is Lord Maul, the true head of Crimson Dawn. I run the face and keep everything clear with the other Syndicates; he provides the backing we need.” You gritted your teeth at Dryden’s overinflation of his job. “This is his bodyguard, Y/N. She’s been in the position for at least as long as I’ve known him. You’ll probably never see him without her.”

“That’s how bodyguards work,” you muttered.

“And she’s worked for me since the Clone Wars,” Maul informed both of the guests. “You’d do well to respect her, and better to get her to train you. Dryden has mentioned that you’ve been training with him.”

“That would be lovely,” Qi’ra said respectfully. “Perhaps while we are here?”

“That is unlikely,” Maul replied. “Your visit was so short-notice that we couldn’t adjust our schedule accordingly. We are leaving in the morning on a business venture.”

You resisted the urge to raise an eyebrow. We don’t have any such plans . . .

“You will stay for dinner, rest here for the night, and be on your way shortly before us.”

“We would love to,” Dryden lied.

Truth be told he and Maul rarely saw eye-to-eye, and it showed at that dinner. While Maul enjoyed decadence in certain areas, Dryden was far too greedy to get along with the zabrak. Dinner was a far more simple affair than any of the parties you had seen on the First Light, you never attended, but you saw the footage for various reasons. The silence was tense. The long table was covered in just enough food for all four of you. You were at Maul’s left hand like always while he was at the head of the table; Dryden was on the end opposite with Qi’ra on his right side.

Telling, was all you could think. If he’s already that comfortable with her, he might be worse off than I thought . . .

Conversation was stilted, but you were hardly surprised. Maul was rarely conversational with other people, so Dryden and Qi’ra entertained themselves by flirting among themselves. As soon as the dinner was over, you and Maul retired to the training room for your nightly sparring session. Feeling particularly malicious, you invited them to watch. The better to show them proof of your prowess.

Once the fight started all thoughts of the onlookers went out the window. The fights were always all-out; neither of you pulled punches, never had. The only thing you were cognizant of was keeping the usual level of flirting through the floor. And based off the split-second glance of Qi’ra’s face you managed to catch while falling, she clearly didn’t expect the zabrak to pull such a cheap move as headbutting you with one of his horns. Dryden apparently wasn’t going full-tilt with her training . . .

By the time you ended the fight (you lost) and called it a night, you were both sporting bloody injuries in various places on top of new bruises. You and Maul escorted the other two to their separate rooms and left them for the night.

“I don’t trust her,” you muttered as you two walked to your rooms.

“You said as much to the idea of her, my dear,” he replied simply. “I didn’t expect you to change your opinion.”

“She’s a presumptuous little snake, and don’t think I missed the way she eyed you up the second she saw you.”

“She would not be stupid enough to try it yet.”

“Yet being the operative word.” You reached the bedroom door. “Goodnight, sir,” you said formally. 

Maul’s brows furrowed, but fortunately he was smart enough to catch on quickly. There’s someone watching, he realized. He now sensed Qi’ra’s presence in the Force far too closely to be her in her room. He was mildly impressed that you noticed when he did not; granted it wasn’t that surprising since he was generally distracted when you were around. “Goodnight. Be ready in the morning.”

Qi’ra frowned. She snuck out of her room as soon as your voices sounded like they’d rounded a corner, hoping to gain more information on the pair of you. Unfortunately, all she learned was your distaste for her was genuine and accurate. She lingered long enough to see if you would do anything after he retired, but you simply crossed your arms and waited. A hard life if she remains here all night. Her exhaustion may be my advantage, was what she thought as she slunk back to her room.

As soon as you heard her door shut in the quiet of the hallway, you snapped your fingers. Instantly, another guard took your place. “Keep an eye out for uninvited eyes,” you ordered quietly.

“Yes, ma’am.”

And then you could finally retire.

Upon entering the bedroom, you were greeted by the sight of your lover lying nude among the freshly changed, black silk sheets. Already, he was dozing, giving you ample time to enjoy the site of him relaxed and beautiful in a way he rarely was. As quietly as you could, you stripped down yourself and crawled onto the bed with him. He roused enough to share a sleepy kiss when you pulled the sheet over both of your bodies, but otherwise remained asleep. While you were not content with the whole guests situation, you were more than content with your position and quickly drifted off yourself.

[thearvariblues]

The Bard and The Wolf - Chapter Four

(AKA Geraskier in the Metal Band AU you didn’t know you needed)

The fourth chapter, in which Jaskier deals with his terrible and well-deserved hangover, with a bit of help from someone he definitely didn’t expect.

You can also find the fic on AO3. :)

The masterpost for this fic can be found HERE.

4 – There’s a Monster In My Pants

Geralt must have hung down the phone before Jaskier finished throwing up, because when the poor hungover bard crawled back to the bedroom, Geralt wasn’t on the line anymore.

Jaskier knew he probably should call him back, but he was too exhausted to deal with whatever Geralt wanted to say to him now. Probably that he was out of the band, for good, with no chance of ever returning.

Jaskier took his phone with him, just in case, and very slowly made his way to the living room, where he stretched on the sofa and covered himself with a blanket. He refused to stay in bed, but he also refused to function.

He was feeling like hell. Partially it was the hangover. His stomach still felt queasy, his head was spinning and the dwarf in his skull abandoned his hammer and grabbed a power drill instead. It was a purgatory, and Jaskier was pretty sure he absolutely deserved it.

Oh, dear God. Trust him to blow his chance to have something good in his life. No, not good. Something great.

“Stupid, stupid Jaskier,” he muttered, closed his eyes firmly and decided to spend the day wallowing in self-pity.

He must have fallen asleep soon after making this decision, because all of a sudden, somebody was banging on his door, and quite loudly at that.

“Oh, fuck off,” he muttered and tried to hide under his blanket, but the horrible sound just wouldn’t stop. Jaskier struggled into a sitting position and groaned. “Who the fuck is that?!”

The banging stopped, but what came after was even more horrible.

“Who the fuck do you think, Jaskier?” said a deep, husky voice he recognized after the first syllable.

Jaskier swallowed.

“This is not Jaskier!” he called in a voice much higher than his own. “This is his flatmate… Alfred! Darling. Jaskier went to visit his poor sick grandmother who lives in Siberia!”

“Nice try,” Geralt chuckled. “But you’ve told me you lived alone. Open the fucking door, Jask.”

“No way,” Jaskier replied. “I’m too young and pretty to die!”

“I’m not here to kill you. But I will the next time I see you if you don’t open the door right fucking now.”

“Ugh, fine,” Jaskier groaned and stood up, very slowly and carefully, huddled in his blanket. He made his way to the door and opened it. The first thing he saw were two golden eyes and an amused smirk. “What?”

Geralt raised his right hand, which was holding two paper bags.

“Belgian fries, tartar sauce, chocolate cake,” he announced. “Also, there’s a Monster in my pants. And I mean the energy drink, not what you’re probably thinking right now. All tried and tested hangover remedies.”

“Jesus Christ, I love you,” Jaskier moaned and stepped away from the door.

It was entirely possible that Geralt was lying about not being here to kill him, but he brought fries, meaning he’s bought his way into the flat.

“Not Jesus Christ, last time I checked,” Geralt chuckled. “And your affection is way too easily won, Bard.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I’m a whore. Please come in, excuse the mess, gimme the fries, the cake and the Monster from your pants.”

“We are still talking about the drink, right?” Geralt asked, shutting the door behind him.

Jaskier let his body fall onto the couch.

“My dearest wolf, I wouldn’t be able to get it up even if I wanted.”

Geralt smiled and handed him the bags and a can of energy drink he took out of his back pocket.

“Good. That’s what you deserve for being so damn stupid.”

“Yeah, I know. I definitely should have stopped drinking after the fucking video,” Jaskier muttered, digging in the bag that was a little bigger than the other. “But I felt like shit, and I wanted to forget, and… Oh, you mean I deserve it for the video. Right.”

Geralt sat down in an armchair and watched Jaskier hungrily stuff a few fries into his mouth.

“Don’t you?” he asked as Jaskier popped open the energy drink.

“Absolutely. Is that why you’re here, Geralt? To act as my voice of conscience? You could have saved yourself the trouble, my conscience’s been nagging at me ever since I woke up.”

“I came here to make sure you were okay, you moron,” Geralt grunted. “I would gladly let you die, but as Ciri pointed out, if you did, we would have to find a new singer, and I don’t think I’m ready for auditions.”

“Oh, how loved and appreciated I feel right now.”

“Hmm...”

Jaskier sighed and closed his eyes.

“Okay, okay,” he muttered. “Look, I’m sorry, okay. I’m sorry for the video, it was a stupid idea and Ciri definitely should have stopped me. And I’m sorry… I’m fucking sorry for outing you.”

“You didn’t know I wasn’t out.”

“Precisely. I didn’t know, I should have kept my big, stupid mouth shut. Fuck. I know how it feels, I’ve been outed by a friend before, and now I do it to somebody else?”

“Jaskier...”

“I mean, the friend outed me to my parents and he did it on purpose, but it doesn’t matter if it’s on purpose, does it?”

“Jaskier.”

“The result is the same, somebody who didn’t want to be out is out now, and they have to deal with the consequences–”

“Jask.”

Jaskier blinked.

“What?”

“It’s fine. As Renfri would gladly tell you, I’ve been talking about doing this for months, I just never gathered the courage to say Look, fans, I know you all think I am this big bad manly wolf, every woman’s wet dream, but I’m kind of also into guys, please don’t hate me. It’s almost a relief that someone did it for me.”

“You don’t have to do this,” Jaskier muttered.

“Do what?”

“Try to… convince me that my mistake was actually a good thing.” He took a sip from the drink. “How the hell did you even know the normal one was my favorite, and not one of those disgusting sugar-free fancy ones?”

“I didn’t,” Geralt shrugged. “I just took my favorite.”

“Oh. Thanks. I mean it. You’re a dear heart, Geralt.”

“I know.”

Jaskier uttered a tiny laugh.

“And so humble… What do your fans think about your bisexuality, by the way?”

“No idea. Haven’t checked the comments yet.”

“You haven’t?”

“Have you checked them yet? After all, you outed yourself, too.”

“Yes. As bisexual, but everyone already thought I was gay, so it’s no big deal.”

“Hmm...”

“Oh, stop it with the grunts. By the way, how was I supposed to check anything? I was barely conscious. Well, not even barely, most of the time. I’m only coming back to life thanks to this heavenly goodness you’ve brought me. Those fries were amazing. And now for the cake… Oh, dear lord, I’m starting to think I did die, and I ended up in heaven!”

“Well, it’s obvious you really feel better,” Geralt smirked.

“Physically, yes. Though it would help me tremendously if you checked the comments, so I can stop feeling like shit for… you know.”

“Why don’t you check them yourself?”

“Because, my dear Geralt… Oh, yes, this is fabulous,” he moaned as he put a plastic fork full of cake into his mouth. “My dear, dear wolf, I’d hate to have to throw up the feast you brought me.”

“Jask...”

“Please?”

“Ugh, fine,” Geralt muttered, taking his phone out of his pocket. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Someone’ mentioned it before. Several people. Many, many, many people.”

“I’m only doing this for you. Not because I want to know.”

“Of course.”

“I don’t.”

“Of course.”

“I really… Oh, fuck.”

“Good fuck or bad fuck?”

Geralt took a deep breath, scrolling through the comments on his phone’s screen.

“Well, the good news is, not so many people noticed the bit about my sexuality. Most of these comments are about you.”

“Fuck,” Jaskier sighed. “Okay. Gimme. I’m ready for them to tear me apart.”

“I saw that yesterday,” Geralt smirked. “As you wish. So… Oh, yes, that’s a good one. Oh, boy. This bard looks like a pure cinnamon roll, acts like a pure cinnamon roll, but in reality he’s just a feral bitch who’s out for blood. I mean, I’m not sure what it even means, but it sounds good, right?”

“It is good. Please, please, don’t let it be the only one.”

“Dear God, this guy’s chaotic energy is off the charts. I wasn’t sure about the whole thing, but I can’t help it, I love him already.”

“Oh, yes, baby, yes!” Jaskier groaned.

“I’m definitely getting old, I didn’t understand a word of it,” Geralt muttered. “Oh, this one I understand. Am I the only one who’s been humming Toss a Coin To Your Witcher for the past ten minutes? Well, since the comment has more than a hundred likes, he probably isn’t the only one.”

“It’s a catchy song,” Jaskier said.

“Yeah, though that bit about a humble bard definitely wasn’t inspired by you,” Geralt chuckled. “Oh, God… I am a heterosexual guy, but seeing those blue eyes, I understand why Geralt would let him suck his cock. And the reaction to that is… Man, I’m a lesbian, and I would gladly let him suck my cock. And then… Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Jaskier had closed his eyes, but now he opened them and focused on Geralt.

“What?”

“And Geralt’s not even heterosexual. He probably stood no chance.”

“And here we go,” Jaskier said and pushed the cake aside. “But this is good. It’s great, Geralt. they’re taking it as a fact, that’s the best–”

“Guys. Guys, are we really ignoring the fact this adorable bard said that Geralt, our mighty White Wolf, was bi? I mean, we knew it already… How the fuck did they know?!”

“Hate to break it to you, dear heart, but I knew it, too, even before Lambert told me,” Jaskier shrugged. “You just have this… bisexual energy.”

“Bisexual energy,” Geralt repeated.

“Kinda, yeah.”

“The important question – when he’s with a guy, is Geralt a top, or a bottom?”

“Oh, I know the answer to that, too!”

“I doubt that,” Geralt muttered. “Don’t know about Geralt, but this Jaskier guy is definitely a power bottom.”

“Wrong. Absolutely, completely wrong,” Jaskier commented.

Geralt shook his head.

“I can’t believe… Just yesterday, they were calling you a twink and a fairy and...”

“Cocksucker,” Jaskier prompted.

“And now they… speculate about my sexual preferences? And they believe you sucked my cock to get in the band?!”

“Oh, no, they don’t. Fret not, dear heart, they’re just… playing along. It’s a joke.”

“Am I the only one here who just loves how absolutely smitten this guy is with the rest of the band, Lambert included? So fucking adorable!”

“Oh, I’m gonna start blushing.”

“So, are we giving this puppy a chance? All those in favor, say Aye!”

“How many Ayes?” Jaskier asked, biting his lower lip.

“Way, way too many,” Geralt smiled. “It seems you got lucky, you feral bitch. Congrats. You’re a new fan favorite.”

“Oh, thank fuck,” Jaskier grinned. “I’m gonna make you famous yet, Witcher!”

“I doubt that. You haven’t made Dandelions famous, did you?”

“It’s hard to make a band famous when no matter what you suggest, they tell you Nah, Julian, that’s stupid, I’m not doing that.”

“Don’t worry. We’d never call you Julian, Jask.”

“Very reassuring,” Jaskier chuckled. “Why do you call me Jask, anyway?”

“Shorter than Jaskier. But if you want me to stop…”

“No, that’s not… I don’t mind. I like it. Just don’t call me Julian. I hate being called Julian. Only my parents call me Julian, and only when I do something they don’t approve of. Which is like… all the time. I haven’t seen them in years, but I’m sure that when I see them again, they’re gonna be like… Oh. Julian. You look… healthy. Which basically means I got fat, by the way.”

“Fat? Where?” Geralt blinked.

“Oh, darling. We’re talking about my mother, so… everywhere.”

“Bullshit,” Geralt grunted. “You’re not fat.”

“I do tend to get a little chubby if I let myself go too much.”

“Bullshit,” Geralt repeated.

Jaskier smiled and got back to his cake.

“I didn’t say I minded,” he said. “But thanks, anyway.”

“You’re… welcome?”

“Would you like a bite?” Jaskier asked. “I’m not giving you my plastic fork, but there’s a normal one in the kitchen. Maybe even a clean one, if you’re lucky.”

“Well, I’m not gonna say no,” Geralt laughed and got to his feet.

“And in the meantime, you could tell me what you think about Toss a Coin To Your Witcher.”

“Fuck,” Geralt muttered. “I knew this was coming…”

*

They were just in the middle of discussing their favorite metal bands (well, Geralt’s favorite, and Jaskier’s I really liked them ten years ago) when Geralt’s phone rang. He answered it with a little apologetic smile.

“Yes, what is it, Ciri? … No, I’m pretty sure I haven’t been gone for two hours already. … Right. I have. … No, I’m not trying to find a place to bury his body. … No, we’re not in a hospital. … No, Jaskier is fine, we’re just… talking. And I kind of lost track of the time. … Yes, I know I have a client in an hour. … Yes. … Yes, Ciri. … Yeah. See you at home. Love you too.”

He ended the call and sighed.

“Gotta go?” Jaskier asked. He was looking way better than he had upon Geralt’s arrival. His face wasn’t deathly pale, for a start, and his eyes were much brighter and clearer. He still looked tired, though.

“Yes. Because I’m an idiot who takes clients on Saturdays,” Geralt muttered and got to his feet. “Will you be all right here?”

“Absolutely, thanks to you,” Jaskier smiled. “You saved my life, Wolf.”

“You’re welcome, Bard,” Geralt nodded. “Will you make it to the rehearsal tonight, or should I call it off?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be there.”

“Good. See you there, then. Take care, Jask.”

“See you, Geralt.”

Jaskier waited until he heard the door click behind Geralt before he let out a long, deep breath. He fought the wide smile that threatened to make its way on his face.

Fuck, he was enjoying Geralt’s company way too much. That wasn’t good. That wasn’t good at all...

Continue with Chapter Five