#Like its pathetic so they think this shit is somehow any different from being a terf or tehm ideologically wtf

[bigfatbimbo]

Hey there! @hazbinhotelmollykisser here yet again, with the promised bill rambles :)

Forgive me if the following words sound like nonsense, I'm trying lol

SO. I'll be covering the bill with a more powerful reader and sub bill because your works have changed my brain chemistry, masochist bill because I'M GOING INSANE AN I NEED TO BE SEDATED, and bill with a reader that likes to tease him (with a more powerful reader version and a just a human version) because I need to study his reactions to teasing like I'm Stanford studying like... Science + math = triangles or something.

・Bill x More powerful reader

So I actually made an entire oc for this literally as soon as I finished reading the og post, which I will refrain on ranting abt, but the idea of a reader that's more powerful than bill is fascinating to me.

Because like, he's bill so he's obviously gonna try to get under your skin, but imagine a reader that sees his attempts to annoy them and just... Like laughs? A reader that finds his attempts almost endearing? Reverting whatever bill did back to before with just a snap and maybe a passing comment about his mischief.

It would drive him mad I think, he'd be rlly annoyed and pissy about it.

Or alternatively, a reader that does get angry when he tries to annoy them, (a loud and aggressive angry or a quiet festering angry both yielding different reactions from bill) and Bill takes it as motivation to keep annoying you (and it's definitely only because he thinks it's funny and totally definitely no other reason).

(Holy shit this is already getting long)

・Sub!Bill

So obviously a brat right? Like very obviously? We all agree on that.

And this next bit will probably just be regurgitating your points because I can't stop having the same opinions as you,

I personally need to see any + every version of bill cipher getting taken down a peg. Like I need to just. Ruin his life a little. Like I need to cause him mental peril and make it up to him (but actually it's only for me) by making him beg for what he wants and not giving him anything unless he asks out loud because "well I'm not a mind reader" (more powerful reader probably IS but shhhh..)

I want him to cry and beg (as do most people who read your blog honestly)

・masochist bill

Thinking about the way that bill literally talks about going out of his way to inflict pain onto the bodies he "possesses" (? Idk if that's the word I should use) made me think. Like too much thinking too many thoughts, to the point that I at multiple points almost wrote a small drabble in my notes app about it. (I would've if I could think of any words to write down when I need them 😭)

But like he's definitely some kind masochist right?

I can't think of any scenarios for human reader he made a deal with and bill for this category but imagine with me pls, a HUMAN reader, that he made a deal with (is actively trying to manipulate), causing him PAIN somehow (directly or indirectly), and he... DOSENT MIND? because 1. He's gonna have a mental breakdown because of it probably, and 2. He dosent JUST not mind. It's like EXCITING but not normal exciting.

So basically he'd be freaking out.

And with a reader that's more powerful than him? I think it'd be clear as day. Going hand in hand with the angry reader that's more powerful than him thing above, he would absolutely get off on annoying them until they snap at him (specifically the snap at him part). And when reader notices, they're obviously gonna make fun of him because hes being pathetic lol.

I think I have run out of masochist bill words now so onto the next topic.

・tease reader (human) x bill

My main reason for bringing this up is I love the idea of the powerful bill cipher being.. Well, flustered.

Like maybe when it's triangle form bill its easier to hide for him but if it were human bill reader would be able to tell almost instantly probably.

And more opportunities to make fun of bill for being a pathetic little creature are always good :)

・tease reader (more powerful) x bill

OOWOWHEOEJEIEBSJBSISNDH I love this idea so so SO SO SOSOSOSO MUCH!!!3&:28&:9.

SO MANY MORE OPPORTUNITIES TO TEASE AND NOT GET KILLED :)

Like imagine with me, your teasing bill and he gets all "upset" and probably threatens you, you don't gotta back off, you infact can tease him even more for thinking that he can threaten you. Shheheheheheheh.

I think that's all my words, I seem to have run out.

I hope that big lump of nothing text (800-ish words 😰) was enough to make up for my sudden dissapearence after promising to talk about bill TWO WEEKS AGO

Forgive my probably dogshit spelling and grammar pls

and hope you have a good day/night/whatever!

IUAHAHSHSHSHSHHSHDHSHAHS I LOVE THINGS LIKE THIS IN MY INBOX!!!!! Because it’s like wow, you did all the work for me! 😊

Ugh, this is so good tho. I always love to hear your thoughts, you are one of my FAV anons!!!!!

[entropy-sea-system]

ppl will really think that merely being anti terf/tehm means turning around and being transmed and exclus is somehow okay

[lincolndjarin]

Best Kept Secret

chapter nine : shuk'la rules (RE-UPLOAD)

ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ✩ main masterlist ✧

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 5.6k

summary : you spend some time in the library with the mandalorian

warnings, etc. : language, p in v sex, fingering, sort of a glove kink situation that is not verbally expressed but is def there, slapping, def like dom/sub vibes but also not spoken on, sort of a dumbification situation, degradation and also praise

A/N : i had to change accounts so this is a re-upload of my ongoing fic bks!!

You need sex.

Normally you would be satisfied for quite some time after getting off but for some reason with Mando it was different. But it’s only been two days and you need more. 

Instead of taming the beast it’s like he let it out of its cage and now it’s running rampant. 

But you had to have your stupid rules.

Maybe you could just get rid of the second one. 

You pick up the book, flipping to the back cover, staring at those damned words.

This is Purely Stress Relief. 

What an idiot, in your stupid quest to make sure things stayed casual you were somehow denying yourself casual sex. Maybe you could just fake stress, or start a fight with him. No, he’d see right through that. You’re in a genuinely good mood after yesterday, you’ve got no reason to start shit with him.

But you need sex. 

And he’s sooo good at it. Annoyingly so. 

And you can’t just ask for it, because he’ll tease you about it. (Which probably wouldn’t be all that bad now that you think of it.) But you need him, terribly. You’re lying here in your closet bed, doing everything in your power to will away the ache between your thighs because you don’t have the time to deal with it yourself, Elaine and Lysa will be here at any minute. So you stuff your face in a pillow, and let yourself have a good long groan as you hear your bedroom doors open outside the closet. 

The closet doors fly open and Elaine steps in, grinning down at you. 

“Good morning ma’am, is everything alright? You’re normally awake by now, you must have had a long day yesterday.” She’s raising an eyebrow as you groan again. Bringing another pillow up to smash against your face. 

“I’m fine. Just tired.” You mumble into the cushion. She reaches down to tear the pillow from your hands, picking you up under your arms and lifting you to your feet. “Maker, you’re strong…” 

“I have to be to take care of you ma’am. Now, up. Time to dress.” She steps out and you follow her to the mirror as Lysa goes to find you a dress. 

“Something green.” You yell over your shoulder, maybe he’ll fuck you if you wear another green dress. Gods, you hope so. 

Okay, pull yourself together. You can’t be acting like this around him, he’ll use it to his advantage and you can’t let him get the upper hand on you, not when you’re in this state. Who knows what you’ll do or say to get him to touch you. 

    You zone out as they go through the usual routine of dressing you, the jade dress hugging your torso making you smile, maybe this will work. Once you’re all done up you take Elaine’s hand in yours.

“Thank you… seriously, you’re a miracle worker. You and Lysa have taken such good care of me.” You give her a warm smile and you're taken aback by the way she squints at you before returning the smile. 

“Thank you ma’am.”

That’s all she says as she steps back, looking you over once before nodding and taking Lysa’s hand before leaving. 

Weird.

You put it aside in your mind though because when they open the door you catch a glint of silver. You need to think fast, how are you going to seduce him? Gods, you're pathetic. Whatever. Just get out there, maybe actually seeing him will make this easier, the moment he starts being a jackass you’ll be able to resist him.

✩

It doesn’t work. 

He’s nice today. Uncharacteristically so, it’s actually off-putting. He had greeted you with a compliment on your dress, had walked you to the library with no complaints, no teasing, and no resistance. And had so kindly handed you the book you’d left off on last time, he had even opened it to the page you’d left off on before he sat across from the nook and opened his own book. 

What’s his angle here? You’re having a hard time focusing on your reading because now you’ve got to figure out what he’s plotting. 

Stern, protective, annoying, persistent, nice? The Mandalorian is a lot of things but he isn’t necessarily nice. 

He isn’t cruel by any means but it’s off putting to have him acting like this. Sadly it doesn’t make him any less attractive to you at this moment because you’re still imagining all the different ways you could lure him back to your chambers. Your thoughts are interrupted by the low hum of static that always comes before he speaks. 

“You seem distracted.” When you look up the helmet is staring at you and his book is closed. Kriff. 

“Nothing, just a little…” 

Horny?

“Bored.” 

“Mmm. Want to play that game? Might help alleviate some of the boredom?” He sets his book aside as he leans forward, elbows resting on his knees. You’re about to blow him off with some lame excuse so you can keep plotting on how to bed him but you’re struck with an idea. 

“Sure. What does the winner get?” 

“Is there anything in particular you want?” Predictable, you knew he wouldn’t pick one himself.

“Hmm… how about the winner gets to break one of the rules?” He leans back in the chair as he’s seemingly considering the offer.

“Which rule did you have in mind?” 

“None of the important ones, just the second one. The stress relief one. Winner gets to break it once, at a time of their choosing.” He doesn’t need to know that you plan on cashing it in immediately when you win.

“Sounds fair enough, same rules as last time? Pass three times and you lose?” There’s a much stronger hint of amusement in his voice this time around and suddenly you’re nervous he might actually try to win. “You can go first again if you’d like.” 

Might as well start with an almost guaranteed pass. 

“Last time we played you said you needed the credits from this job, why?” 

You sit and try to hold back a smug smile as you wait to hear his response but it never comes. He just sits there thinking. 

“And you can’t lie.” You eventually add, in case he was trying to come up with an answer. 

“I need a ship. I know someone on a different planet that I’d like to go see.” He says each word slowly and carefully like he’s trying to phrase it a certain way. It makes you furrow your brow. You don’t have time to ponder it for long though because he’s already moving on. “What did you buy from that woman yesterday?” Shit, you had wanted that to be a surprise for him. You could always just use a pass on this, you’d still have two more, you aren’t really all that private he’s just managed to pick out a very specific thing you don’t want to answer. 

“Pass. Did you eat the food I gave you?” You should probably be focusing on more hard hitting questions if you want to win but you are genuinely curious.

“Yes. I had half last night and half this morning.” He sounds almost sheepish when he says it, like he’s admitting defeat. You want to laugh but you’re worried if you do he won’t take food in the future. “Why do you wear those horrific dresses on the fifth day of each week?” 

Jerk. 

He is right though, they are horrific. And it’s a huge relief that he’s seemingly done putting on the creepy over the top polite act he had going on. 

“Blue is Kodo’s favorite color. They dress me in it on days where I see him.” He lets out a huff at your response. 

“That’s a stupid reason.” 

“Do you often take note of what colors I’m wearing?”

“Is that your question?”

“Yes.”

“Then yes, I do. Especially when it’s green. Did you wear that for me?” He nods at the jade gown you’re currently wearing.

“Is that your question?”

“Yes.” You silently wish he was sitting closer. 

“Yes. Do you like it?” 

“Is that your question?” He sounds like he’s grinning. 

“No. I just want to know.” 

“...Yes.” He takes a moment to just stare at you and that stupid heat is back in the library. “What’s your actual question?”

“Has anyone seen your face before?” You probably shouldn’t ask, it seems way too personal for how the game has been going so far but you’re in this to win it. 

“Yes.” 

Huh. You hadn’t expected an answer. And you definitely hadn’t expected that answer. 

“What do you think I look like?” 

You hadn’t expected that question either. 

“It’s a little arrogant of you to assume I ever think about you in my spare time.”

Or all the time, constantly, and in your dreams. 

“So you’ve never thought about it?”

All the time, constantly, sometimes in your dreams. 

“I have.”

“Then what do you think I look like?” 

Of course you’d thought about it, it’s hard to not wonder what the best sex of your life looks like under his helmet. You didn’t want him to actually take it off of course, you understand how important it is to him but your mind is allowed to wander. And you can’t help but hope that he at least takes it off to use that stupid mouth of his at some point, even if you can’t look. 

“Well… I always assumed brunette, even before getting confirmation. I don’t know, sharp features? Clipped short hair, unruly facial hair? I can never figure out your eyes though, I just can’t picture them.” 

He sits on it for a moment. 

“They���re brown.” 

That suits him. He seems like he would have soft, warm eyes that could turn cold and deadly in an instant. 

“That doesn’t count as my question by the way.” You snap at him, trying to relieve the intimate tension that’s suddenly settled between you. 

“Of course not.”

“How many bounties have you caught?” 

“I don’t keep track.”

“That’s not an answer.” You huff at him as you roll your eyes. 

“Fine.” He takes a moment as he thinks about it before you hear the familiar crackle of the modulator. “All of them.” 

Okay he’s got to be doing that on purpose. That low voice where he acts all serious, you want to call him out for it but it goes straight to your pussy and if you say something somehow he’ll end up finding out so why bother. 

“What’s your favorite color?” He sounds so genuinely interested when he asks you things like this. It breaks your heart every time because no one else ever seemed to care so much.

“I don’t have one.”

“We’re really on a hot streak of not answering the questions princess.” He tilts his head to the side.

“It used to be blue. Now I don’t have one.”

His helmet straightens up and he’s silent for a beat. You have to pray he isn’t giving you a look of pity under there. 

“How about for now it’s green. We can share a favorite color until you get a new one.”

It’s hard to remember that you’re just friends when he says things like that.

You should say no. Say it’s purple now, or orange, or anything else. 

But green is growing on you. 

Why is this dumb game so much more serious this time around? 

“Why is your favorite color green?” Your voice has lost its teasing edge, only sincerity remains. 

He’s silent again. 

“I knew a kid a while back who liked green.”

There’s something new. 

You can’t place the tone he has now.

It’s almost… sad . It makes you want to stand up and walk over to him, take his helmet in your hands and tell him he’s okay. Only for a second though because of course he has to ask a question that completely pulls you from the moment. 

“When did you know you wanted me?”

Presumptuous. Either he really wants to change the subject or he really wants to win. 

He’s leaning forward again and it makes you want to slap the stupid helmet. You decide against it, you’d only end up hurting yourself in that situation. 

“I’m not sure.” You puff out your chest slightly as you say it. 

“So you pass?” 

“No.” Shit, okay, do you even know the answer? “Maybe… the last time we played the game? I’m not sure.” 

“Good enough for me.” It’s annoying how satisfied with himself he sounds. 

“Was I your first time?” You don’t know why you ask it, you’re almost certain you weren’t because he shouldn’t have been that good his first time. Maybe you just want to knock him down a peg. It makes him scoff.

“Was I not up to your standard?” 

“It’s not your turn.” You try to sound indifferent when you say it. 

“Is this really how you want to play this game princess? Because I can make this a lot harder on you if it is.” His voice somehow manages to get lower, Maker, he’s the worst.

“Are you passing?” Is all you say as you straighten up in your little nook. He seems to almost mirror you as he sits up in his chair.

“No. You were not my first.” This time when you don’t bother trying to hide your smug smile at his response, it’s nice to for once feel like you’ve got the upper hand on him.

“Was I the best you’ve ever had?” 

Well it was nice to have the upper hand for fifteen seconds. 

“You know no one wants to ever hear the answer to that question.” 

“I do.” 

Of course you do.

“Pass.” You really shouldn’t but it’s best to not give him the satisfaction of the truth.

“You know that’s basically an answer in itself. I’m willing to let you un-pass this one if you say it.” Gods you’re gonna kill him, after you win and fuck his brains out. Then you’re gonna kill him.

“I said pass.” 

“Okay princess.”

Why is he still so hot? He’s too nice and he’s hot, he’s an over confident dick and he’s hot. He should be studied at this point. You can’t help but ask a question for your own personal imagination of him now that he’s got you all riled up. 

“How old are you?” 

“I’m not sure. I stopped keeping track when I took the creed, somewhere in my late thirties probably.”

“You don’t know your own birthday?” 

“No.”

That shouldn’t make you as sad as it does. You get over it pretty quickly though when he asks his next question. 

“Do you think about me when you touch yourself?”

You could kill him. You didn’t think you’d be back to the point of plotting his untimely death so soon but you could kill him. You could also lie but you have to remind yourself that that would be a hollow win, it would always loom over you. No sense in putting it off. 

“Yes.” Might as well use his own question against him, even if it ends up embarrassing you if he says no. “Do you? Ever think about me?” You would give anything to sound less timid at that moment. 

“Often.”

Maker, is this your punishment for cheating on your husband? The agonizing temptation of the man before you?

“Do you ever think about Kodo?” Oh he’s sick. But right, his tone indicates that he already knows the answer to his question.

“No.” It’s barely above a whisper. “Why were you acting so weird this morning?” You’ve all but given up your little plot at this point, you’re pretty sure you’ll be able to convince him with or without the win at some point later. 

“Weird?” 

“You were being all cordial and polite. It was weird.” You’re still whispering as he scoffs.

“Pass.”

“Oh come on.” You didn’t often beg for a follow up during this game but you were desperate to know, especially if he didn’t want you to know. 

“I’ll tell you if you let me win.”

Hmm. That’s not an easy choice but you’re losing so why not just let him have it, maybe tonight you could try inviting him in again. 

“Fine. You win, now tell me. Why were you acting off?” You cross your arms as you glare at him.

“For the same reason you chose to play the game.”

“What?”

Oh. 

Oh.

He was trying to seduce you.

He’s good. It’s infuriating how good he continues to be at this. He keeps winning at this whole sexual chess game you’ve been playing. You don’t have time to mock him for being so theatrical about this whole thing because he’s standing and in the blink of an eye he’s in front of you, leaning down and grabbing the bottom of your skirt, lifting it up to your seat.

“I win.” His voice is low and husky and it doesn’t even seem like he’s basking in his victory all that much because he’s too busy collecting the layers of your dress and holding them in place up at your hips. You don’t have a lot of time to process what’s going on as one of his hands is gripping your jaw. “Is it okay if I cash in my prize now?” He’s asking for permission and honestly all you can do is dumbly nod as he grabs your hips and roughly pulls you by the waist of your dress so your ass is barely hanging off the edge of the reading nook, one of his hands comes up to your mouth and he’s tapping his pointer and middle finger on your bottom lip. “Open.” 

You should be snippier with him. 

You want to be. You want desperately for him to not be in charge all the time. (Of course you do want him to be in charge some of the time but that’s besides the point.)

And you’re getting what you want so what’s the point of fighting now. You open your mouth and he slides his fingers past your teeth, not far enough to make you gag but enough to fill your mouth with the material. 

Metal, gunpowder, leather. 

It’s not all that unpleasant, especially since he’s slotting himself between your legs now. 

“Bite down.” You furrow your brows but gently bite and he pulls his hand free, keeping his glove between your teeth. “Keep that there, okay sarad? Nod if you understand.” 

What a prick. Talking down to you like that, if it didn’t make you so wet you’d spit his glove back in his face. 

Instead you nod, because afterall you’re only human and you have needs. 

“Good girl.” His condescending tone is infuriating and if you weren’t so horribly turned on by it you’d kick him where it hurts but his ungloved hand is unzipping his flight suit at the crotch so you decide to let this one slide. “Hold your skirt up for me, cyar’ika.” He mutters out as he manages to free his cock from his pants, already standing at attention, fully erect. 

It’s enough to have you tragically drooling at the sight of a man who wants you so badly he needs no time to prepare himself. 

To the best of your ability you grip the edges of your skirt up for him as his still gloved hand reaches under all of the tulle, fishing around for a moment until he finds the hem of your panties, shoving them down to your ankles as you let out a small groan into his glove. His still gloved hand is spreading your thighs as he slowly strokes himself with his other hand, once you’re seemingly exactly how he wants you you can faintly hear a sharp inhale as he takes in the sight of you staring up at him. 

“Cyare…” He mumbles as he switches his hands, bringing his bare hand between your legs. 

You shouldn’t whine the way you do. You wish you could have held it back but you’re already a mess just in anticipation of him and you just pray to the gods that the glove muffles the majority of it. Of course it doesn’t. Because he lets out a gravely laugh. 

“What’s wrong sarad?” His tone is not unkind but it is sarcastic as you feel his fingernails lightly scraping at your inner thigh. You can nearly see his confused look through the Beskar as he takes a moment to contemplate before he brings his gloved hand back between your legs as you nod pathetically. “Is this what you wanted? I thought you thought my gloves were stupid princess?” 

The tough leather on his fingertips is ever so slightly dragging through your seam as you let your head fall back. He hums in approval as he brings his bare hand back to his cock, jerking himself off gradually as he sinks a finger into your dripping cunt. 

No sense in maintaining any of your pride because the sensation forces an obscene groan out of you, accompanied by the lewd squelching sound as he withdrawals the single digit before sliding it back in. 

His fingers had already filled you so exquisitely, with the added thickness of the gloves you were pretty sure you died and went to heaven. He doesn’t wait long before he adds a second finger and honestly you’re pretty sure you can’t physically take a third as he slams them in and out of you brutally, he doesn’t give you anytime to catch your breath as he pulls them out almost entirely before sliding them home, down to the knuckle. 

You’re not sure where to look, there’s a lot going on right now and yes you had wanted this terribly but you didn’t think he’d give it to you so suddenly and you’re feeling a lot of things right now. 

You settle your eyes on his length. That perfect pretty cock of his. He’s matching the rhythm of his strokes to the rhythm of his other hand. Maker, you don’t deserve the show he’s putting on for you as he lets out quiet grunts, staring down at you. You let out a particularly loud whine as you feel his fingers curl ever so slightly.

“I love those pretty little noises you make but you have to be quiet mesh’la.” His hand briefly comes up to your mouth to shove more of the glove past your teeth as you whine softly. “If you can’t be quiet I’ll have to stop, do you understand?” 

He pulls his fingers from you, wiping his glove on the inside of your dress as you let out a small cry at the loss of contact, it makes him click his tongue. 

“Be a good girl okay? I know this is what you wanted, is that why you wore this? So I’d fuck you like the slut you are? All you had to do was ask, I don’t care all that much about your rules. But we can’t have anyone walking in so I need you to quiet down.” He’s lining the weeping pink tip of his cock up at your entrance so you swallow the moan threatening to burst from your throat.

You still aren’t used to how talkative he is during sex. Sure he talks to you but never like this. Most of the time he only ever says what he needs to to get under your skin and then he’s done. But when you’re like this, it’s like he can’t stop the words that fall past the modulator. 

He’s slower this time. The first time, he had fucked you like he would never get a chance to touch you again. Animalistic and mercilessly. Now it’s like he’s taking the time to savor you entirely. 

You want to spit the glove out and beg him to just fuck you without caution but you’re certain he would just go slower if you did that. Or worse, stop entirely. So you bite down on the glove and grit your teeth as he continues at his agonizingly slow pace, lazily shoving himself into your tight hole, inch by inch. He takes his time, dragging it out, he’s barely halfway in and he’s panting, his hand squeezing the still fresh bruises under your dress. 

Before you can stop him he starts pulling out again, you’re unable to fend off the meek whine that happens as he starts shallowly slow fucking you, never pushing himself more than a few inches in. It’s got you thrashing as he pins you down in place, your cunt milking the head of his cock. Your hands abandoning your skirt to hold onto his forearms for support .

His gloved hand came down with a smack on your inner thigh that has you keening as he starts massaging the red mark, spreading your legs a little wider. His thumb began rubbing rough circles against your clit. Just fast enough to make you squirm but not fast enough to push you over the edge. You can tell by the hoarse laughter that comes between his grunts that he’s doing this on purpose. Not fucking you deep enough to hit the spot that he know’s you’re hopelessly trying to push it against.

“Man-ooh” You spit out past the glove. You point your toes to try and get some traction on the ground. Struggling to drive him deeper into you, he responds with a harsh slap to your clit that has you jolting backwards against the window. 

“Ah ah, I thought I told you to be good. Good girls stay quiet.” He pushes his thumb down against your bud, applying pressure but holding it torturously still. 

“Pleath-” Is all you can manage to mumble out past the leather, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, as you try to writhe under his grip, anything to get him deeper inside you but he holds you in place as he impales you on his length.

“Please? Good girls don’t beg until they’re told to sarad.” He rocks his hips forward as he continues to mock you. 

It’s a real shame he knows how to work you up so easily. You’d love to slap that stupid tone out of his voice and tell him to fuck you proper but there’s something about the pure domination that he exudes the moment he decides he wants you. It’s intoxicating. You’re drunk on him when he gets like this, the primal needs to submit to him in the moment is overwhelming. He delivers another slap to your clit to get your attention that has you letting out a muffled yelp.

“Are you paying attention, mesh’la?” His voice is so low and condescending and it makes you tighten around him earning you a growl from the Mandalorian. “You like it when I treat you like this huh?” He gives you another snap of his hips, just enough to kiss that spot with his cockhead. 

You can feel a moan bubbling in your throat but bite it back, trying to stay silent, opting for a nod instead. 

“Good girl. Now say you’re sorry princess.” One of his hands is splayed out on your thigh, holding you spread open for him as the other hungrily gropes at your chest over your bodice. 

You close your eyes as your head leans back to avoid letting him see the crimson that is creeping up your face. You’ve come this far, why draw the line here.

“Thowwy” You should probably feel more shame. You’re the princess of a very important planet yet you’re here, in the library, being fucked sensless by a man who is notably not your husband, mumbling apologies through a gag. It’s easy to forget all that though because your pathetic sorry earns you a patronizing pat on the head, which subsequently results in a rush of heat between your legs. 

You might be a bad person for getting off on this.

Maybe think about that later, right now you’re too busy servicing the bodyguard your husband hired. 

“See, that’s better.” He brings his thumb up to swipe at your bottom lip, taking in the beads of drool before bringing it back to your clit. “Good girls get rewarded.” He snaps his hips forward, pushing just a little deeper. Finally letting the blunt head of his cock rest against that sensitive spot inside of you. 

It’s like he knows your body better than you do. It’s a little aggravating but it’s hard to be mad when he starts deliberately slamming himself against that spot. Matching his ministrations on your clit to his thrusts which has your entire body tensing as that wire in your core threatens to snap.  

You have autonomy. And he’s just a self-righteous asshole who is devastatingly good at sex. He likes to remind you of the fact that you don’t technically have the authority to dismiss him but you’re pretty sure you’re still his boss.

So why are you staring up at him now with pleading eyes as he fucks you, your eyes darting between him and the leather sticking out from your lips. You could spit it out, but instead you wait until his thrusts slow ever so slightly as he pulls the now soaked glove from your mouth, a line of drool going from it to your lips. 

“What is it, copikla?” He says it so derisively that you don’t need a translation to tell you he’s teasing you. 

Okay.

Normally you wouldn’t do this. Not unless a guy explicitly asked for it and it was your only option. But you know that if you ask for permission he’ll probably just let you and you woke up pent up and then there was all the teasing and the heat is going to your head so you can’t stop the babbles that spill from your lips. 

“Can I cum Mando? Please let me cum I’m so close please.” Hearing yourself say those words is a little humiliating, (for an unrelated reason you’re sure you get wetter as you say them) but it seems to work because he picks up his pace as he plunges himself into you. There’s no hesitation as you plead with him.

“Elek olaror sarad’ika. Cum for me.” His voice is a low growl as he holds your hips, pulling you down against him to push himself deeper into you as his thumb rolls over your clit just so. Everything combined with the Mando’a he seemingly can’t stop speaking has your eyes rolling back as you feel your walls clamping down on him, strangling his cock as you climax, your vision going a sharp white for a moment, his hand comes up just fast enough to muffle the cry that escapes your throat. Simultaneously he slips out of you, shooting his load onto your swollen soaked pussy.

You’re both just panting for a moment as you come down from your respective orgasms. He recovers first as he shoves himself back into his pants before kneeling down in front of you, pulling your panties up, keeping his cum on your skin. 

It’s filthy. The thought of spending the rest of the day with his seed between your legs is hot enough to hopefully keep you satisfied for a few more days than last time. 

Your head is still tilted back, resting against the window as your chest heaves. You barely even register the hiss of air, or the gentle kiss that’s placed against your inner thigh. 

Soft. His lips are soft, not chapped like you’d thought they’d be, with just a little bit of stubble. 

By the time you look down at him his helmet is back in place and you aren’t even sure it really happened. He straightens the layers on your skirt and stands up, his still ungloved hand brushes your hair back as he caresses your face.

“Are you okay? Do you need anything?” He’s back to that soft tone he uses only for you and you scowl at him.

“You’re mean during sex.” 

It’s nice to hear him laugh in earnest. He tucks a loose strand behind your ear.

“I think you like it.”

“Maybe.”

“Can I get you anything princess?” There it is again. That tone where he makes it sound like an endearment.

You don’t really need anything but you do have something you need to do so you give him a distraction.

“Could I convince you to get me some water?” 

“There isn’t a lot you couldn’t convince me of.” 

It’s things like that that make it hard to remember this is a platonic arrangement. But he’s already walking to the door so you rush to find some stationary and you write out everything you need before stepping out into the hall. No sign of Mando so you whisper-yell Leodall’s name. It’s like he appears out of thin air, you should figure out how he does that at some point if you’re gonna keep having secret sexual relations. That isn’t your mission right now though so you hand him the paper and dismiss him before hurrying back into the library. Patiently awaiting Mando’s return. 

As you sit back in the nook you rest your head on the adjacent book shelf. 

Two days. 

You’ve had your rules for two days. So far you’ve broken a rule every day you’ve had them. 

Everyone makes mistakes.

You just won’t break any more rules from this point forward. 

“…All you had to do was ask, I don’t care all that much about your rules.”

That’s what he had said.

This is Purely Stress Relief. 

Maybe you can keep breaking one rule. 

I am no longer doing taglists so follow @lincolndjarinnotifs and turn on notifications to be notified when new chapters are posted !!

[mins-fins]

should've been me.

&&. you're in love with him, that's great! all he's gonna do is use that to his advantage.

pairing: lee donghyuck x m!reader

genre: angst yummy

warnings: um uh.. sexual content??? (like mentions), the stress of friends with benefits, mentions of drinking, this relationship is very unhealthy

word count: 1.3k

notes: stole fwb hyuck from jj im so sorry but hes so………😢 um anyway so yeah he kinda really sucks here but hes so sexy and beautiful and a hashtag #malemanipulator😂 and reader just kinda takes it cause they're pretty pathetic if im being honest 🙏 (im so sorry but its true) (i quite literally wrote this) anyway DONT deal with people who treat you like shit you deserve better than that 🫵 i also wrote this in like 30 minutes at 1 am and river kept pestering me to sleep so thats cool 😆!

you're not exactly sure what your problem is.

you're not exactly sure what donghyuck's problem is either.

maybe the two of you were simply meant for each other, he's a drunk mess in your house and your a sober mess beside him. although compared to him, your better at keeping yourself in check for long enough that it appears your emotionally stable, hyuck is like.. how would you explain it? a ticking time bomb.

renjun calls him that, he's a disaster waiting to happen, even with how much he tries to put on a stupid calm act. yeah, he's smart, much smarter than most people give him credit for, but he is also much more impulsive than he likes to say.

case in point, he's absolutely wasted in your home right now, whining about some stupid thing his seventh fling said or something.

he's absolutely reckless.

the two of you have been a bit.. off for the past few weeks, your very aware that donghyuck is messing with different people, probably trying to get you out of his head after you two yelled at each other like there was no tomorrow.

he just always seems to find his way back to your house, even after all the times you try to turn him away, he always slides his way back into your life, one way or another.

and you always just let him.

you now realize how you seem like a pushover. wow, chenle actually wasn't wrong for once.

your frustrated, he just decides to waltz into your house, after two weeks of ignoring your messages and going around with other people, messing around with other people, staying over at their houses, pretending that you didn't exist, he always thinks he can just get his way.

it's not like you two are dating or anything..

but you hate that it hurts.

"okay— stop screaming" you put your hands up, but donghyuck doesn't stop talking, just lowering the volume of his voice, he just continues talking faster. you close your eyes, taking a deep breath, sometimes you feel more like his mom than his 'friend that's more than a friend but not his partner'.

"donghyuck, you need to— be quiet" you say, you somehow find yourself walking towards him and place your hands onto his shoulders. he has to look up at you to glare at you, and you almost laugh at the fact, you always teased him about it before, but right now he's glaring at you, a look he's shared with you at only certain occasions.

"don't tell me what to do".

"you're in my house!"

"well where else am i supposed to go, y/n? your the one who opened the fucking door anyway!" he retorts, still glaring at you like before. he's not crazy drunk to the point that he's stumbling over his words and talking like a crazy person, but he's also not that sober either.

not like you don't have so many more other people willing to drop down on their knees for you, why don't you just go to any of their houses instead?

that's what you want to say, the words rest on your tongue, itching to escape your lips so you can finally talk about what's been bothering you all this time.

you two aren't dating, you aren't exclusive to each other, your not.. an "item" or whatever, you two just both found something you could use to your advantage, and it's not like there were any rules when it came to you two, you guys had no control over what the other did with other people.

you have no right to be jealous.

so you refrain from saying that, instead biting your tongue and choosing the first thing that comes to your mind. "i didn't let you in, i opened the door, and you stormed into my house, and now you refuse to get out!"

"you're just such a little— bitch".

you'd kiss him if he wasn't being so aggressive at the moment, you can't say that he didn't look absolutely.. well— irresistible in a sense. if you weren't so stubborn, you probably would've pounced on him already.

but you stand your ground.

for once he can't get his way, you'll make sure of it.

"actually, i know what your deal is!" he shouts, accusingly, he walks up to you and points his finger directly in your face. his expression is a mix of pissed off and absolutely smitten, as if he's in love with you and wants to punch you in the face at the same time.

"oh yeah? enlighten me?"

"you're in love with me".

donghyuck leans close to your face when he says it, spitting out the words like they're poisonous, it's like he knows just how much you feel, like he's taking apart the thoughts that have been constantly plaguing your mind one by one.

you laugh, true words, but your not gonna let him know that. you allow your expression to become one of humor, and you raise an eyebrow. "i'm in love with you? please, get over yourself".

donghyuck doesn't falter. "you're just so bothered by the fact that i'm in someone else's bed, that i don't parade around you all the time, you always say you don't mind than get so sad when i'm not giving you a hundred percent attention, you whine like a baby when i'm not here for just a minute".

his tone is a teasing one, he's making fun of you, like he's about to jump at you and destroy all that you love. he wants to see you break, he wants to see you give in, wants to watch as you slowly melt and encapsulate his words, digest them, he wants you to feel every single letter that comes out of his mouth.

it's like he almost finds you funny, in a sense—

but your not that easy to break, so you just let out yet another bitter chuckle. "okay then mr. know it all, why don't you sit down and let me help you sober up?"

"your a coward".

you grit your teeth, he just won't stop fucking talking will he? he just keeps going on and on and on and on, at this point your considering pulling out the duct tape above your cupboard and shutting him up for good, but instead you close your eyes and sigh.

"why is it so hard to say, y/n? are you really that afraid of commitment that the best you can do is friends that occasionally mess around with each other?"

"donghyuck" you drag your teeth against each other. "if you don't shut up i swear to god i'm throwing you out of this house and making you sleep in the freezing cold".

it's an actual threat, not an empty one, donghyuck knows you well enough that he can tell the difference. so, stubbornly, he sits down, arms crossed over his chest.

your not sure why you always end up taking care of him, he didn't ask for you to, he just wanted to stupidly sulk on your couch, attempting to "calm" his mind after he screamed at you, staying silent after he basically read out all your inner most thoughts to you, like he just reached into your mind and pulled out all the things you'd been thinking.

"you always get so talkative when you drink".

you've gotten much used to ignoring how much you hurt when donghyuck yells at you, it's all become a little thing between you two, you argue, you sleep with each other, you forget it the next day, then go exactly back to that.

it's not healthy for either of you, clearly, it's more of destroying you than anything, but you don't even try to negotiate with him, just let him sit there as you contemplate, standing at your kitchen counter.

"i hate you" you mutter, instinctively cracking your knuckles as you say those words.

and yeah— maybe you do say that,

but your always gonna end up right beside him in the end.

[luckbealincoln]

Best Kept Secret

chapter nine : shuk'la rules

THIS SERIES HAS BEEN MOVED AND RE-UPLOADED TO ANOTHER ACCOUNT. WHICH CAN BE FOUND HERE. THIS POST STILL EXISTS AS AN ARCHIVE BUT THIS ACCOUNT IS NO LONGER ACTIVE!!

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 5.6k

summary : you spend some time in the library with the mandalorian

warnings, etc. : language, p in v sex, fingering, sort of a glove kink situation that is not verbally expressed but is def there, slapping, def like dom/sub vibes but also not spoken on, sort of a dumbification situation, degradation and also praise

You need sex.

Normally you would be satisfied for quite some time after getting off but for some reason with Mando it was different. But it’s only been two days and you need more. 

Instead of taming the beast it’s like he let it out of its cage and now it’s running rampant. 

But you had to have your stupid rules.

Maybe you could just get rid of the second one. 

You pick up the book, flipping to the back cover, staring at those damned words.

This is Purely Stress Relief. 

What an idiot, in your stupid quest to make sure things stayed casual you were somehow denying yourself casual sex. Maybe you could just fake stress, or start a fight with him. No, he’d see right through that. You’re in a genuinely good mood after yesterday, you’ve got no reason to start shit with him.

But you need sex. 

And he’s sooo good at it. Annoyingly so. 

And you can’t just ask for it, because he’ll tease you about it. (Which probably wouldn’t be all that bad now that you think of it.) But you need him, terribly. You’re lying here in your closet bed, doing everything in your power to will away the ache between your thighs because you don’t have the time to deal with it yourself, Elaine and Lysa will be here at any minute. So you stuff your face in a pillow, and let yourself have a good long groan as you hear your bedroom doors open outside the closet. 

The closet doors fly open and Elaine steps in, grinning down at you. 

“Good morning ma’am, is everything alright? You’re normally awake by now, you must have had a long day yesterday.” She’s raising an eyebrow as you groan again. Bringing another pillow up to smash against your face. 

“I’m fine. Just tired.” You mumble into the cushion. She reaches down to tear the pillow from your hands, picking you up under your arms and lifting you to your feet. “Maker, you’re strong…” 

“I have to be to take care of you ma’am. Now, up. Time to dress.” She steps out and you follow her to the mirror as Lysa goes to find you a dress. 

“Something green.” You yell over your shoulder, maybe he’ll fuck you if you wear another green dress. Gods, you hope so. 

Okay, pull yourself together. You can’t be acting like this around him, he’ll use it to his advantage and you can’t let him get the upper hand on you, not when you’re in this state. Who knows what you’ll do or say to get him to touch you. 

    You zone out as they go through the usual routine of dressing you, the jade dress hugging your torso making you smile, maybe this will work. Once you’re all done up you take Elaine’s hand in yours.

“Thank you… seriously, you’re a miracle worker. You and Lysa have taken such good care of me.” You give her a warm smile and you're taken aback by the way she squints at you before returning the smile. 

“Thank you ma’am.”

That’s all she says as she steps back, looking you over once before nodding and taking Lysa’s hand before leaving. 

Weird.

You put it aside in your mind though because when they open the door you catch a glint of silver. You need to think fast, how are you going to seduce him? Gods, you're pathetic. Whatever. Just get out there, maybe actually seeing him will make this easier, the moment he starts being a jackass you’ll be able to resist him.

✩

It doesn’t work. 

He’s nice today. Uncharacteristically so, it’s actually off-putting. He had greeted you with a compliment on your dress, had walked you to the library with no complaints, no teasing, and no resistance. And had so kindly handed you the book you’d left off on last time, he had even opened it to the page you’d left off on before he sat across from the nook and opened his own book. 

What’s his angle here? You’re having a hard time focusing on your reading because now you’ve got to figure out what he’s plotting. 

Stern, protective, annoying, persistent, nice? The Mandalorian is a lot of things but he isn’t necessarily nice. 

He isn’t cruel by any means but it’s off putting to have him acting like this. Sadly it doesn’t make him any less attractive to you at this moment because you’re still imagining all the different ways you could lure him back to your chambers. Your thoughts are interrupted by the low hum of static that always comes before he speaks. 

“You seem distracted.” When you look up the helmet is staring at you and his book is closed. Kriff. 

“Nothing, just a little…” 

Horny?

“Bored.” 

“Mmm. Want to play that game? Might help alleviate some of the boredom?” He sets his book aside as he leans forward, elbows resting on his knees. You’re about to blow him off with some lame excuse so you can keep plotting on how to bed him but you’re struck with an idea. 

“Sure. What does the winner get?” 

“Is there anything in particular you want?” Predictable, you knew he wouldn’t pick one himself.

“Hmm… how about the winner gets to break one of the rules?” He leans back in the chair as he’s seemingly considering the offer.

“Which rule did you have in mind?” 

“None of the important ones, just the second one. The stress relief one. Winner gets to break it once, at a time of their choosing.” He doesn’t need to know that you plan on cashing it in immediately when you win.

“Sounds fair enough, same rules as last time? Pass three times and you lose?” There’s a much stronger hint of amusement in his voice this time around and suddenly you’re nervous he might actually try to win. “You can go first again if you’d like.” 

Might as well start with an almost guaranteed pass. 

“Last time we played you said you needed the credits from this job, why?” 

You sit and try to hold back a smug smile as you wait to hear his response but it never comes. He just sits there thinking. 

“And you can’t lie.” You eventually add, in case he was trying to come up with an answer. 

“I need a ship. I know someone on a different planet that I’d like to go see.” He says each word slowly and carefully like he’s trying to phrase it a certain way. It makes you furrow your brow. You don’t have time to ponder it for long though because he’s already moving on. “What did you buy from that woman yesterday?” Shit, you had wanted that to be a surprise for him. You could always just use a pass on this, you’d still have two more, you aren’t really all that private he’s just managed to pick out a very specific thing you don’t want to answer. 

“Pass. Did you eat the food I gave you?” You should probably be focusing on more hard hitting questions if you want to win but you are genuinely curious.

“Yes. I had half last night and half this morning.” He sounds almost sheepish when he says it, like he’s admitting defeat. You want to laugh but you’re worried if you do he won’t take food in the future. “Why do you wear those horrific dresses on the fifth day of each week?” 

Jerk. 

He is right though, they are horrific. And it’s a huge relief that he’s seemingly done putting on the creepy over the top polite act he had going on. 

“Blue is Kodo’s favorite color. They dress me in it on days where I see him.” He lets out a huff at your response. 

“That’s a stupid reason.” 

“Do you often take note of what colors I’m wearing?”

“Is that your question?”

“Yes.”

“Then yes, I do. Especially when it’s green. Did you wear that for me?” He nods at the jade gown you’re currently wearing.

“Is that your question?”

“Yes.” You silently wish he was sitting closer. 

“Yes. Do you like it?” 

“Is that your question?” He sounds like he’s grinning. 

“No. I just want to know.” 

“...Yes.” He takes a moment to just stare at you and that stupid heat is back in the library. “What’s your actual question?”

“Has anyone seen your face before?” You probably shouldn’t ask, it seems way too personal for how the game has been going so far but you’re in this to win it. 

“Yes.” 

Huh. You hadn’t expected an answer. And you definitely hadn’t expected that answer. 

“What do you think I look like?” 

You hadn’t expected that question either. 

“It’s a little arrogant of you to assume I ever think about you in my spare time.”

Or all the time, constantly, and in your dreams. 

“So you’ve never thought about it?”

All the time, constantly, sometimes in your dreams. 

“I have.”

“Then what do you think I look like?” 

Of course you’d thought about it, it’s hard to not wonder what the best sex of your life looks like under his helmet. You didn’t want him to actually take it off of course, you understand how important it is to him but your mind is allowed to wander. And you can’t help but hope that he at least takes it off to use that stupid mouth of his at some point, even if you can’t look. 

“Well… I always assumed brunette, even before getting confirmation. I don’t know, sharp features? Clipped short hair, unruly facial hair? I can never figure out your eyes though, I just can’t picture them.” 

He sits on it for a moment. 

“They’re brown.” 

That suits him. He seems like he would have soft, warm eyes that could turn cold and deadly in an instant. 

“That doesn’t count as my question by the way.” You snap at him, trying to relieve the intimate tension that’s suddenly settled between you. 

“Of course not.”

“How many bounties have you caught?” 

“I don’t keep track.”

“That’s not an answer.” You huff at him as you roll your eyes. 

“Fine.” He takes a moment as he thinks about it before you hear the familiar crackle of the modulator. “All of them.” 

Okay he’s got to be doing that on purpose. That low voice where he acts all serious, you want to call him out for it but it goes straight to your pussy and if you say something somehow he’ll end up finding out so why bother. 

“What’s your favorite color?” He sounds so genuinely interested when he asks you things like this. It breaks your heart every time because no one else ever seemed to care so much.

“I don’t have one.”

“We’re really on a hot streak of not answering the questions princess.” He tilts his head to the side.

“It used to be blue. Now I don’t have one.”

His helmet straightens up and he’s silent for a beat. You have to pray he isn’t giving you a look of pity under there. 

“How about for now it’s green. We can share a favorite color until you get a new one.”

It’s hard to remember that you’re just friends when he says things like that.

You should say no. Say it’s purple now, or orange, or anything else. 

But green is growing on you. 

Why is this dumb game so much more serious this time around? 

“Why is your favorite color green?” Your voice has lost its teasing edge, only sincerity remains. 

He’s silent again. 

“I knew a kid a while back who liked green.”

There’s something new. 

You can’t place the tone he has now.

It’s almost… sad . It makes you want to stand up and walk over to him, take his helmet in your hands and tell him he’s okay. Only for a second though because of course he has to ask a question that completely pulls you from the moment. 

“When did you know you wanted me?”

Presumptuous. Either he really wants to change the subject or he really wants to win. 

He’s leaning forward again and it makes you want to slap the stupid helmet. You decide against it, you’d only end up hurting yourself in that situation. 

“I’m not sure.” You puff out your chest slightly as you say it. 

“So you pass?” 

“No.” Shit, okay, do you even know the answer? “Maybe… the last time we played the game? I’m not sure.” 

“Good enough for me.” It’s annoying how satisfied with himself he sounds. 

“Was I your first time?” You don’t know why you ask it, you’re almost certain you weren’t because he shouldn’t have been that good his first time. Maybe you just want to knock him down a peg. It makes him scoff.

“Was I not up to your standard?” 

“It’s not your turn.” You try to sound indifferent when you say it. 

“Is this really how you want to play this game princess? Because I can make this a lot harder on you if it is.” His voice somehow manages to get lower, Maker, he’s the worst.

“Are you passing?” Is all you say as you straighten up in your little nook. He seems to almost mirror you as he sits up in his chair.

“No. You were not my first.” This time when you don’t bother trying to hide your smug smile at his response, it’s nice to for once feel like you’ve got the upper hand on him.

“Was I the best you’ve ever had?” 

Well it was nice to have the upper hand for fifteen seconds. 

“You know no one wants to ever hear the answer to that question.” 

“I do.” 

Of course you do.

“Pass.” You really shouldn’t but it’s best to not give him the satisfaction of the truth.

“You know that’s basically an answer in itself. I’m willing to let you un-pass this one if you say it.” Gods you’re gonna kill him, after you win and fuck his brains out. Then you’re gonna kill him.

“I said pass.” 

“Okay princess.”

Why is he still so hot? He’s too nice and he’s hot, he’s an over confident dick and he’s hot. He should be studied at this point. You can’t help but ask a question for your own personal imagination of him now that he’s got you all riled up. 

“How old are you?” 

“I’m not sure. I stopped keeping track when I took the creed, somewhere in my late thirties probably.”

“You don’t know your own birthday?” 

“No.”

That shouldn’t make you as sad as it does. You get over it pretty quickly though when he asks his next question. 

“Do you think about me when you touch yourself?”

You could kill him. You didn’t think you’d be back to the point of plotting his untimely death so soon but you could kill him. You could also lie but you have to remind yourself that that would be a hollow win, it would always loom over you. No sense in putting it off. 

“Yes.” Might as well use his own question against him, even if it ends up embarrassing you if he says no. “Do you? Ever think about me?” You would give anything to sound less timid at that moment. 

“Often.”

Maker, is this your punishment for cheating on your husband? The agonizing temptation of the man before you?

“Do you ever think about Kodo?” Oh he’s sick. But right, his tone indicates that he already knows the answer to his question.

“No.” It’s barely above a whisper. “Why were you acting so weird this morning?” You’ve all but given up your little plot at this point, you’re pretty sure you’ll be able to convince him with or without the win at some point later. 

“Weird?” 

“You were being all cordial and polite. It was weird.” You’re still whispering as he scoffs.

“Pass.”

“Oh come on.” You didn’t often beg for a follow up during this game but you were desperate to know, especially if he didn’t want you to know. 

“I’ll tell you if you let me win.”

Hmm. That’s not an easy choice but you’re losing so why not just let him have it, maybe tonight you could try inviting him in again. 

“Fine. You win, now tell me. Why were you acting off?” You cross your arms as you glare at him.

“For the same reason you chose to play the game.”

“What?”

Oh. 

Oh.

He was trying to seduce you.

He’s good. It’s infuriating how good he continues to be at this. He keeps winning at this whole sexual chess game you’ve been playing. You don’t have time to mock him for being so theatrical about this whole thing because he’s standing and in the blink of an eye he’s in front of you, leaning down and grabbing the bottom of your skirt, lifting it up to your seat.

“I win.” His voice is low and husky and it doesn’t even seem like he’s basking in his victory all that much because he’s too busy collecting the layers of your dress and holding them in place up at your hips. You don’t have a lot of time to process what’s going on as one of his hands is gripping your jaw. “Is it okay if I cash in my prize now?” He’s asking for permission and honestly all you can do is dumbly nod as he grabs your hips and roughly pulls you by the waist of your dress so your ass is barely hanging off the edge of the reading nook, one of his hands comes up to your mouth and he’s tapping his pointer and middle finger on your bottom lip. “Open.” 

You should be snippier with him. 

You want to be. You want desperately for him to not be in charge all the time. (Of course you do want him to be in charge some of the time but that’s besides the point.)

And you’re getting what you want so what’s the point of fighting now. You open your mouth and he slides his fingers past your teeth, not far enough to make you gag but enough to fill your mouth with the material. 

Metal, gunpowder, leather. 

It’s not all that unpleasant, especially since he’s slotting himself between your legs now. 

“Bite down.” You furrow your brows but gently bite and he pulls his hand free, keeping his glove between your teeth. “Keep that there, okay sarad? Nod if you understand.” 

What a prick. Talking down to you like that, if it didn’t make you so wet you’d spit his glove back in his face. 

Instead you nod, because afterall you’re only human and you have needs. 

“Good girl.” His condescending tone is infuriating and if you weren’t so horribly turned on by it you’d kick him where it hurts but his ungloved hand is unzipping his flight suit at the crotch so you decide to let this one slide. “Hold your skirt up for me, cyar’ika.” He mutters out as he manages to free his cock from his pants, already standing at attention, fully erect. 

It’s enough to have you tragically drooling at the sight of a man who wants you so badly he needs no time to prepare himself. 

To the best of your ability you grip the edges of your skirt up for him as his still gloved hand reaches under all of the tulle, fishing around for a moment until he finds the hem of your panties, shoving them down to your ankles as you let out a small groan into his glove. His still gloved hand is spreading your thighs as he slowly strokes himself with his other hand, once you’re seemingly exactly how he wants you you can faintly hear a sharp inhale as he takes in the sight of you staring up at him. 

“Cyare…” He mumbles as he switches his hands, bringing his bare hand between your legs. 

You shouldn’t whine the way you do. You wish you could have held it back but you’re already a mess just in anticipation of him and you just pray to the gods that the glove muffles the majority of it. Of course it doesn’t. Because he lets out a gravely laugh. 

“What’s wrong sarad?” His tone is not unkind but it is sarcastic as you feel his fingernails lightly scraping at your inner thigh. You can nearly see his confused look through the Beskar as he takes a moment to contemplate before he brings his gloved hand back between your legs as you nod pathetically. “Is this what you wanted? I thought you thought my gloves were stupid princess?” 

The tough leather on his fingertips is ever so slightly dragging through your seam as you let your head fall back. He hums in approval as he brings his bare hand back to his cock, jerking himself off gradually as he sinks a finger into your dripping cunt. 

No sense in maintaining any of your pride because the sensation forces an obscene groan out of you, accompanied by the lewd squelching sound as he withdrawals the single digit before sliding it back in. 

His fingers had already filled you so exquisitely, with the added thickness of the gloves you were pretty sure you died and went to heaven. He doesn’t wait long before he adds a second finger and honestly you’re pretty sure you can’t physically take a third as he slams them in and out of you brutally, he doesn’t give you anytime to catch your breath as he pulls them out almost entirely before sliding them home, down to the knuckle. 

You’re not sure where to look, there’s a lot going on right now and yes you had wanted this terribly but you didn’t think he’d give it to you so suddenly and you’re feeling a lot of things right now. 

You settle your eyes on his length. That perfect pretty cock of his. He’s matching the rhythm of his strokes to the rhythm of his other hand. Maker, you don’t deserve the show he’s putting on for you as he lets out quiet grunts, staring down at you. You let out a particularly loud whine as you feel his fingers curl ever so slightly.

“I love those pretty little noises you make but you have to be quiet mesh’la.” His hand briefly comes up to your mouth to shove more of the glove past your teeth as you whine softly. “If you can’t be quiet I’ll have to stop, do you understand?” 

He pulls his fingers from you, wiping his glove on the inside of your dress as you let out a small cry at the loss of contact, it makes him click his tongue. 

“Be a good girl okay? I know this is what you wanted, is that why you wore this? So I’d fuck you like the slut you are? All you had to do was ask, I don’t care all that much about your rules. But we can’t have anyone walking in so I need you to quiet down.” He’s lining the weeping pink tip of his cock up at your entrance so you swallow the moan threatening to burst from your throat.

You still aren’t used to how talkative he is during sex. Sure he talks to you but never like this. Most of the time he only ever says what he needs to to get under your skin and then he’s done. But when you’re like this, it’s like he can’t stop the words that fall past the modulator. 

He’s slower this time. The first time, he had fucked you like he would never get a chance to touch you again. Animalistic and mercilessly. Now it’s like he’s taking the time to savor you entirely. 

You want to spit the glove out and beg him to just fuck you without caution but you’re certain he would just go slower if you did that. Or worse, stop entirely. So you bite down on the glove and grit your teeth as he continues at his agonizingly slow pace, lazily shoving himself into your tight hole, inch by inch. He takes his time, dragging it out, he’s barely halfway in and he’s panting, his hand squeezing the still fresh bruises under your dress. 

Before you can stop him he starts pulling out again, you’re unable to fend off the meek whine that happens as he starts shallowly slow fucking you, never pushing himself more than a few inches in. It’s got you thrashing as he pins you down in place, your cunt milking the head of his cock. Your hands abandoning your skirt to hold onto his forearms for support .

His gloved hand came down with a smack on your inner thigh that has you keening as he starts massaging the red mark, spreading your legs a little wider. His thumb began rubbing rough circles against your clit. Just fast enough to make you squirm but not fast enough to push you over the edge. You can tell by the hoarse laughter that comes between his grunts that he’s doing this on purpose. Not fucking you deep enough to hit the spot that he know’s you’re hopelessly trying to push it against.

“Man-ooh” You spit out past the glove. You point your toes to try and get some traction on the ground. Struggling to drive him deeper into you, he responds with a harsh slap to your clit that has you jolting backwards against the window. 

“Ah ah, I thought I told you to be good. Good girls stay quiet.” He pushes his thumb down against your bud, applying pressure but holding it torturously still. 

“Pleath-” Is all you can manage to mumble out past the leather, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, as you try to writhe under his grip, anything to get him deeper inside you but he holds you in place as he impales you on his length.

“Please? Good girls don’t beg until they’re told to sarad.” He rocks his hips forward as he continues to mock you. 

It’s a real shame he knows how to work you up so easily. You’d love to slap that stupid tone out of his voice and tell him to fuck you proper but there’s something about the pure domination that he exudes the moment he decides he wants you. It’s intoxicating. You’re drunk on him when he gets like this, the primal needs to submit to him in the moment is overwhelming. He delivers another slap to your clit to get your attention that has you letting out a muffled yelp.

“Are you paying attention, mesh’la?” His voice is so low and condescending and it makes you tighten around him earning you a growl from the Mandalorian. “You like it when I treat you like this huh?” He gives you another snap of his hips, just enough to kiss that spot with his cockhead. 

You can feel a moan bubbling in your throat but bite it back, trying to stay silent, opting for a nod instead. 

“Good girl. Now say you’re sorry princess.” One of his hands is splayed out on your thigh, holding you spread open for him as the other hungrily gropes at your chest over your bodice. 

You close your eyes as your head leans back to avoid letting him see the crimson that is creeping up your face. You’ve come this far, why draw the line here.

“Thowwy” You should probably feel more shame. You’re the princess of a very important planet yet you’re here, in the library, being fucked sensless by a man who is notably not your husband, mumbling apologies through a gag. It’s easy to forget all that though because your pathetic sorry earns you a patronizing pat on the head, which subsequently results in a rush of heat between your legs. 

You might be a bad person for getting off on this.

Maybe think about that later, right now you’re too busy servicing the bodyguard your husband hired. 

“See, that’s better.” He brings his thumb up to swipe at your bottom lip, taking in the beads of drool before bringing it back to your clit. “Good girls get rewarded.” He snaps his hips forward, pushing just a little deeper. Finally letting the blunt head of his cock rest against that sensitive spot inside of you. 

It’s like he knows your body better than you do. It’s a little aggravating but it’s hard to be mad when he starts deliberately slamming himself against that spot. Matching his ministrations on your clit to his thrusts which has your entire body tensing as that wire in your core threatens to snap.  

You have autonomy. And he’s just a self-righteous asshole who is devastatingly good at sex. He likes to remind you of the fact that you don’t technically have the authority to dismiss him but you’re pretty sure you’re still his boss.

So why are you staring up at him now with pleading eyes as he fucks you, your eyes darting between him and the leather sticking out from your lips. You could spit it out, but instead you wait until his thrusts slow ever so slightly as he pulls the now soaked glove from your mouth, a line of drool going from it to your lips. 

“What is it, copikla?” He says it so derisively that you don’t need a translation to tell you he’s teasing you. 

Okay.

Normally you wouldn’t do this. Not unless a guy explicitly asked for it and it was your only option. But you know that if you ask for permission he’ll probably just let you and you woke up pent up and then there was all the teasing and the heat is going to your head so you can’t stop the babbles that spill from your lips. 

“Can I cum Mando? Please let me cum I’m so close please.” Hearing yourself say those words is a little humiliating, (for an unrelated reason you’re sure you get wetter as you say them) but it seems to work because he picks up his pace as he plunges himself into you. There’s no hesitation as you plead with him.

“Elek olaror sarad’ika. Cum for me.” His voice is a low growl as he holds your hips, pulling you down against him to push himself deeper into you as his thumb rolls over your clit just so. Everything combined with the Mando’a he seemingly can’t stop speaking has your eyes rolling back as you feel your walls clamping down on him, strangling his cock as you climax, your vision going a sharp white for a moment, his hand comes up just fast enough to muffle the cry that escapes your throat. Simultaneously he slips out of you, shooting his load onto your swollen soaked pussy.

You’re both just panting for a moment as you come down from your respective orgasms. He recovers first as he shoves himself back into his pants before kneeling down in front of you, pulling your panties up, keeping his cum on your skin. 

It’s filthy. The thought of spending the rest of the day with his seed between your legs is hot enough to hopefully keep you satisfied for a few more days than last time. 

Your head is still tilted back, resting against the window as your chest heaves. You barely even register the hiss of air, or the gentle kiss that’s placed against your inner thigh. 

Soft. His lips are soft, not chapped like you’d thought they’d be, with just a little bit of stubble. 

By the time you look down at him his helmet is back in place and you aren’t even sure it really happened. He straightens the layers on your skirt and stands up, his still ungloved hand brushes your hair back as he caresses your face.

“Are you okay? Do you need anything?” He’s back to that soft tone he uses only for you and you scowl at him.

“You’re mean during sex.” 

It’s nice to hear him laugh in earnest. He tucks a loose strand behind your ear.

“I think you like it.”

“Maybe.”

“Can I get you anything princess?” There it is again. That tone where he makes it sound like an endearment.

You don’t really need anything but you do have something you need to do so you give him a distraction.

“Could I convince you to get me some water?” 

“There isn’t a lot you couldn’t convince me of.” 

It’s things like that that make it hard to remember this is a platonic arrangement. But he’s already walking to the door so you rush to find some stationary and you write out everything you need before stepping out into the hall. No sign of Mando so you whisper-yell Leodall’s name. It’s like he appears out of thin air, you should figure out how he does that at some point if you’re gonna keep having secret sexual relations. That isn’t your mission right now though so you hand him the paper and dismiss him before hurrying back into the library. Patiently awaiting Mando’s return. 

As you sit back in the nook you rest your head on the adjacent book shelf. 

Two days. 

You’ve had your rules for two days. So far you’ve broken a rule every day you’ve had them. 

Everyone makes mistakes.

You just won’t break any more rules from this point forward. 

“…All you had to do was ask, I don’t care all that much about your rules.”

That’s what he had said.

This is Purely Stress Relief. 

Maybe you can keep breaking one rule. 

[soleilnomoon]

i would love to place an order for Meringue Cookies, Dark Chocolate, Jelly Beans, Candy Necklace, & Blan Manje, with Caramel & Honey. Side menu # 1 for Boa or Nami. either is fine! with a g/n reader! These stories are a blast to read!

anon i am so so sry this took forever 😭💕💕💕 but i finally finished and i'm actually happy with it; also ty for requesting, i love boa hancock sfm i wish more ppl wrote for her.

4.3k words, gn reader (no pronouns), nsfw, 18+ mdni; angst angst angst bc that's how i vibe & smut, and if you squint real hard there's some fluff somehow i think. hancock is a brat as usual and reader ain't shit, but they go great together <3 feat. cute things like oral (f receiving), fingering, a lil bondage, hair pulling, some pussy slapping, more stuff that idr anymore ૮₍ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ₎ა (if u see grammar/spelling errors no u didn't ;_;)

tagging lil’ kaia bc she asked so nicely ❤︎ @cvvor

“our love would be death” — anaïs  nin

sea salt sifts through the wind, warm and fine enough that most don’t notice its intrusion. it lands on your nose and lips, coats your tongue when you exhale through your mouth; no matter how many times you try to wash away the taste, it still lingers. a persistent annoyance that refuses to leave you alone. it’s a bitter, yet familiar taste — one that fills your heart with memories you’ve long wanted to keep buried. you’re no stranger to heartache, but this is different.

you find that you can never sleep through the entire night without dreaming of your ex — of how you begged them to stay, of how you told them you couldn’t live without them. pathetic, you tell yourself one morning after another restless night — you know you need to find a way to move on, but there’s no way you can, not when you carved so many pieces of yourself to give away without much thought.

what you’re left with is a battered heart that can barely function on its own; it flops pitifully in your chest, rattling against your rib cage weakly. every day it gets harder to breathe, harder to face the truth that you’re all alone — again.

boa hancock doesn’t know why she even fucking bothers, but she can’t seem to stay away from you. it’s a privilege, in her opinion, for you to be graced with her presence, let alone be allowed to touch her intimately. so, when she finds you staring wistfully out of the window, sighing to yourself again she snaps.

“y/n, look at me,” she commands loudly, voice piercing through your body like a thick arrow that keeps you frozen in place. you know better than to disobey her, even though you want to; you know you’re being unreasonable, but the heart always wants what it can’t have, right?

not that she cares about any of that. in her mind, your ex is an ex for a reason. she grabs your face with her hand, squeezing tightly, delicate brows furrowed together as irritation drips down her spine. she could easily kill you and you know it. “i’m the most beautiful woman in the world,” she boasts, although there’s something melancholic about the way she says it.

you narrow your eyes at her, mouth moving before you can think better of it. “and what of it?” it’s not often that you challenge her like that, but today you’ve had enough of her games, of constantly catering to her whims and desires, of her veneer that she insists on keeping even when she’s alone with you.  

it dawns on her then what the actual problem is. “you’re still in love with them.” anger seeps through her pores, and she knows if she doesn’t walk away soon, she might say or do something she’ll possibly regret.

you flinch, eyes widening — she’s not entirely wrong, but she’s not right either. you’re just stuck in limbo, unable to move on because you refuse to do so; after seeing them so happy with someone else, you can’t fathom finding any sort of happiness yourself. so, you cling onto the past, even when it threatens to destroy your present life.

for some reason, this pisses you off — that hancock is so much more perceptive than people give her credit for; that she’s not afraid to tell you the truth, despite how your friends sugarcoat everything for you. the rage that’s bubbled deep inside of you for months finally pushes out; you can barely think or see properly, and you forget yourself when you practically shout back at her.

“and you’re just jealous because for once, you’re not the focus of my attention.” you’re not sure why you say it, but as soon as the words leave your mouth, you feel like shit.

there’s rarely a moment where hancock finds herself in absolute shock, but your venomous words cut into her bruised ego with vigor. it's a harsh reality that she refuses to accept, so she lashes out at you again.

“you’re pathetic.” her tone is cold, and she steels her face enough that she almost looks bored with you. hancock releases her hold on you and swivels on her heels to walk away. you don’t bother calling after her, but she pauses in her gait to look over her shoulder at you. “i’m done playing with you, get out of my sight.”

the dismissal is the first slap of many and her insistence on blatantly keeping her back turned while she ignores you is another. something in you breaks, but you know you’ve angered the pirate empress enough for one day. you don’t hesitate before scrambling to your feet and leaving her alone. after you close the door, you hear a shriek that’s accompanied by what sounds like a large vase shattering. you don’t bother checking on her, because you know you’re not wanted in her presence right now.

you should’ve seen this coming. one doesn’t simply think about another lover while in the presence of boa hancock; it’s absurd and theatrical, but it’s an unspoken rule that you keep breaking over and over. in the back of your mind, you know you should go make things right with her, but you just don’t know how.

hancock’s frustration continues to build throughout the day. she doesn’t know why someone — you, a commoner who should be groveling at her feet daily — can be so insolent without remorse. she’s smashed several expensive sculptures, shredded her mattress and bed sheets with large scissors, and cursed out every staff member in kuja palace. her anger only intensifies when she hears someone whisper your name, so she locks herself in her bedroom, refusing meals or assistance from anyone.

you’ve always thought that the pirate empress was annoying, self-centered, and unnecessarily mean without reason. you’ve told her this on several occasions, stunning her into silence — a feat that most cannot achieve. hancock would normally sentence someone to death for those sorts of callous remarks, but for some reason she spares you. maybe it’s because despite her incomparable, unrivaled beauty, you don’t helplessly pine after her.

and she absolutely hates that about you.

hancock’s not someone who’s used to being treated like a regular person, and yet that’s what you do to her. you barely hold any reverence for her, give her the minimal amount of respect owed as a citizen of amazon lily, and you don’t flinch when she threatens you publicly. most are afraid to be associated with you, out of fear for incurring the snake princess’ wrath — not that you care, you’ve known that your personality can’t be tolerated by most because you tend to happily go against the grain.

you’ve always found her beauty to be intense and intoxicating — imposing like the sun, forcing a heat to surge through you that has yet to dissipate. you hate that your attraction to her impedes your daily life, especially when you’re plagued by dueling thoughts of her and your ex. you’re barred from entering the palace, and you’re thankful for it as you don’t know how you’d be able to face hancock after all that you’ve said. you know that you should apologize profusely, but a woman like hancock requires something extravagant and elaborate — something that’ll prove that your adoration and loyalty is genuine and not forced.

the first few days are relatively easy; you work tirelessly to keep your mind and body busy, and you’re so exhausted by the end of the day that you sleep without dreaming. when a week passes, you start to notice that certain things are off; you didn’t make it a habit of frequenting the palace that often, but you were there enough that the staff didn’t give you a hard time when you showed up unannounced. you tell yourself that distance is good — it means you’ll be able to finally focus on the things that are important to you.

but, when you sit and think about it, you’re not quite sure if that’s entirely true.

after the second week, you start getting antsy. your friends keep pestering you, asking why your mood keeps shifting day to day — you’re intolerable and grouchy, snap at minor things and make mistakes all day. your heart, as tired and as worn out as it is, still skips a beat when you think about hancock despite what you try to tell yourself when you’re alone. somehow, you’ve convinced yourself that the only reason why you’re thinking about her, is because you miss fucking her.

the lie is tough to digest, but you keep repeating it and sooner or later you’ll believe it, right?

soon, everything reminds you of her.

on a warm night, a small festival is held, and you wander around listless and slightly tipsy. memories of the first time you met boa hancock — outside of all the fanfare that her royal title awards her — plague you relentlessly. you remember the warmth from that night, similar to this one; you remember how highly oppressive and unbearable the humidity was; and you also remember that you were on your third drink when you unceremoniously bumped into the pirate empress.

at first, her sisters demanded you apologize, but you were annoyed and had just been dumped so you chose audacity instead.

hancock’s irritation was evident, despite her not saying much — and it wasn’t until your rambling struck a nerve that she fired back. it was the first time he’d let her walls down, and her sisters watched in shock as both of you went back and forth over nothing. hancock called you all sorts of terrible names, and you sneered and laughed in her face. the fact that you weren’t cowering in fear or salivating over her beauty set her skin on fire in a way she didn’t understand.

you remember her dismissing the other gorgon sisters, insisting that she’d be able to handle you on her own. and she did, in a way. if anyone were to ask her about that time, hancock would easily admit that she regrets meeting you that night — but it would be a lie. the only thing she regrets is allowing you to infiltrate her heart, to settle without permission, to make her feel less than when she knew she was anything but.

her brattiness is unappealing on the surface and you normally wouldn’t be attracted to a woman who boldly wears such an ugly personality with pride. somehow, hancock has made the trait endearing to you, in a strange way; she’s so unapologetic with her behavior, that you find it rather comical. why people take her seriously is beyond you.

but, despite all of that, you do miss her.

you miss seeing the way her nose would scrunch and wrinkle when she was disgusted with something insignificant and minute; you miss kissing her in the middle of arguments and watching her easily melt underneath your touch; but you mostly miss hearing her complain about your lack of etiquette, about how odd she finds your views on the world, and about how you see her more clearly than anyone else on the island.

that sort of vulnerability terrifies her, and it’s why she’s been so miserable without you.

her sisters pay you a visit one morning and implore you to talk some sense into hancock. they tell you about how her temper tantrums have gotten uncontrollable (even for them) and how she barely eats or bothers leaving the palace these days. that bit surprises you, as hancock thrives off the validation from the populace. at first you mean to refuse them, but when you take note of how marigold anxiously fidgets with the gold bracelet around her wrist and the way sandersonia has dark circles under her eyes, you give in.

after taking a long, long soak in the bath, hancock pads back to her room naked, deciding to keep the windows open so she can air dry properly. you find her shortly after, out of breath from running over to the palace; she didn’t lock her door — and why should she? she’s the empress, after all — so you enter her room with ease. because she’s been so out of it lately, she’s been sluggish in her reactions to certain things; especially since she hasn’t stopped thinking about you.

with the door shut and locked behind you, hancock’s mind clears a bit; she blinks slowly, her dark eyes honed on you, taking in your thick thighs and toned body. as usual, hancock’s face only features an impassive expression, and she keeps her tone flat when she addresses you.

“why the hell are you in my bedroom?” she grabs the silk robe that’s draped over her mattress and puts it on in a rush.

before you can answer her or move closer, she picks up a large pillow and chucks it at you in the hopes that you’ll get the hint and leave her alone. you sidestep the attack, lips pressed together as you hold back a laugh; she can’t honestly think that a pillow will stop you, can she? hancock keeps throwing things, anything within her reach that isn’t nailed down to the floor or wall. you try to reason with her, try to make your way closer, but stop when you see the way her lips quiver.

she keeps fumbling with tying her robe properly, keeps looking down at her trembling fingers — the same ones that have tugged on your hair more times than you can count — but still she won’t say anything else to you.

after a minute, hancock manages to compose herself once again, her lips pressed tightly together as she fights the urge to berate herself for looking weak in front of you — as if you care about any of that. your silence compels her to swiftly make her way towards you, long legs shimmering in the sunlight, captivating you so much that you forget you’re supposed to be angry with her.

“look at you,” she stands tall, her pride giving her the confidence she needs to verbally tear you apart. “you’ve come begging for my forgiveness, right?” she doesn’t wait for you to respond and simply flips her hair over her shoulder before continuing. it’s all she can do to keep her composure around you; she knows if she gives you even a fraction of an inch, you’ll take a whole damn mile. “i should have you gutted for entering the palace without permission. you should know your damn place.” while her words are harsh, her delivery doesn’t quite match the expression on her face. maybe it’s because you haven’t taken your eyes off of her since you entered her room; or, maybe it’s because she’s standing much closer than necessary but can’t physically move herself away.

did you cast a spell on her without her knowledge?

while her eyes do narrow at that possibility, she highly doubts that you could, as there’s no one on amazon lily that doesn’t succumb to her treacherous beauty. but you continue to defy her expectations and you never know when to quit. which is why she just wants to grab you by the neck and toss you out the window; maybe if she actually kills you this time, she’ll be done with you forever.

except, she could never bring herself to harm you — not really. so she continues with her rant, reminding you that you’re beneath her, that you should be happy someone like her gave you any attention at all, but the more she talks, the more you want her to just shut the hell up.

“you’re right,” you say, cutting her off without remorse or any regards for your own safety, “and i deserve all of that,” and possibly more, but you don’t add that bit in. it becomes a little difficult to focus, what with hancock watching you with a different kind of intensity than you’re used to. “i… should’ve just explained myself properly before. but, more importantly,” you decide to take a risk and gently grab her by the hips.

silence wraps around her, blending into her thoughts, warping her perception of everything that’s happening. your hand is warm — much too warm, hot almost; she can feel the heat through the flimsy fabric as she presses her body closer to yours. whatever it is you want to tell her doesn’t matter — maybe she’ll pester you about it all later, but right now all she wants is you.

so, you give in and allow yourself to be more selfish than usual.

when your lips brush against hers, she completely comes alive — the longing you both felt for weeks, the irritation and unsaid words, they all prompt her to wrap her arms around your neck. it’s something short of a loving embrace, but you know better. your kiss goes from slow and tender to something much more fevered and enthusiastic; her lips are soft and supple, wholly inviting and terribly mesmerizing. you back her against the wall as she threads her fingers through your hair, tugging on it roughly, her patience practically nonexistent from all her wanting. you laugh at her in between kisses, breath warm against her skin — a feat that simultaneously annoys and arouses her — and remind her to play nice.

when she tugs on your hair again, you bite her bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, but run your tongue along the miniature wound to soothe the sting. she inhales sharply, the pain not noticeable, but the way you suck on her lip makes her head spin while also leaving her breathless.

 a woman like hancock doesn’t beg, but when you grab her ass roughly — aggressive, yet completely undoing — she lets out a whimper so pathetic she’s almost ashamed of herself.

she should slap you, but all she does is roll her hips forward once you spread her legs and run your fingers against her folds. in a fit of desperation, to excuse her reactions, she tells herself that it’s because she hasn’t been touched in so long — but deep down she knows the truth; she knows it’s because there’s no one else she’d rather have here with her, and that is a terrifying revelation. still, she’s very receptive to your touch, her back arching as soon as you spread her with your fingers.

her arousal drips down slowly, and while you’d love to take your time with her, you also know that if you don’t hurry up you might actually lose your mind. you trail kisses down the length of her neck, and hancock presses her lips together to keep from making any more embarrassing noises. it’s ridiculous the way her body can easily be commanded by you without much effort; she wants to hate you for leading her down this path, but she can’t ever bring herself to do so.

love makes people incredibly foolish and tender indeed.

“that won’t do,” you remark lightly, gliding your fingers back and forth, barely grazing her clit. her breathing stops momentarily when you open her robe completely and drop to your knees in front of her. “why are you holding back?” you don’t ask her because you actually want the answer; you ask because you know it’ll annoy her greatly.

you tease her entrance with your fingers and a shiver fires through her entire body; with her lips parted, you strain your ears a bit, but you hear through her all of her light panting, her softly saying please, please, please. she’s trying so hard to hold it together, and you commend her for her efforts by inching your fingers inside of her slowly. hancock’s façade finally shatters, and you hear her moan audibly as you plunge your fingers in and out of her pussy. you love the way she clenches around your fingers — warm and tight, soft in a way that just doesn’t make sense to you — and the way she moves her hips once your tongue playfully swirls around her clit.

you drape her long, shapely leg over your shoulder and scissor your fingers inside of her pussy; you hum against her skin, thoroughly enjoying the way her chest heaves and how she can’t seem to stop moaning your name.

if only she was always this compliant.

a heat passes through your body as her nails rake against your scalp, and if you weren’t so hellbent keeping her steady, she’d probably fall over by now. you eat her pussy with vigor, swapping your fingers for your tongue; you thrust it inside without remorse, and she quickly becomes a whimpering mess as she chants “yes, yes, yes.” you mean to tell her to keep it down, but a part of you also enjoys it when she lets go and gives into her desires. you don’t want to get caught, but the thrill of it incites you to lap at her pussy — greedy and eager, as if it’s the most savory meal you’ve ever had. her wetness drips down your chin, glistening along your lips but you don’t stop.

she watches you in a trance, unsure if she’ll ever be able to let you go after this. possessive by nature, hancock never thought she’d find herself in this sort of position, but there she is, completely under your spell. every swipe of your tongue brings her closer and closer to the edge — a dangerous dance that she does without thinking. she brings her free hand to cup and knead one of her breasts — hefty and round, moaning repeatedly, voice already straining as she shamelessly rides your face.

you love it, though and when you suck on her clit roughly, lightning wraps around her veins, time slowing down around her, causing her vision to blur. she’s so wound up, that the orgasm takes her completely by surprise — her hips buck wildly and you hold her firmly as you work your fingers back into her pussy. you pull away just to give her a haughty look — one that she catches by accident through her tear-stained lashes — voice low and husky as you continue teasing her. “you’re doing so good,” you lick her clit hard enough to have her eyes roll back, “do you trust me?”

it's not fair of you to ask her genuine questions right now, but you need to know.

hancock swallows hard, unable to think properly, but answers without hesitation: “y-yes.”

her voice is sweet, much more demure than you’re used to; your heart suddenly feels much too big for your chest, the beats growing louder and thunderous; a dangerous combination when coupled with your cowardice. but you know better than to cower away, so you muster the courage to quietly respond with, “good, i’m glad.”

you’re not sure why you ask her that, but you keep thinking about it when you have her naked on her bed with her hands bound above her. thanks to you, her normally blemish-free skin is littered with bite marks and dark red bruises — small and harmless, but you do feel a sliver of remorse when you realize she’ll have to cover herself up for a bit when she’s outside of the palace. you tell her she’s a masterpiece worthy of exhibition, and she tells you that you’re insolent for stating the obvious.

she’s so beautiful and vulnerable in this position — flushed cheeks, tears in her eyes, legs shaking as they’re spread wide for you; her pussy is swollen after you slapped it a few times when she gave you lip a few minutes ago. out of habit, hancock wants to run her mouth again when you hover over her, but her words never come out. she looks up at you, silently wondering why you keep coming back to her. the melancholy that accompanies those thoughts is heavy enough to make her want to cry, so she ignores it. she wraps her legs around you as you rock your hips against hers, cunt still dripping — eager and inviting.

fucking hancock is like being trapped in a feverish dream, one where you fall over and over, unable to predict if you’ll survive in the end. it’s an unending maelstrom — powerful and unpredictable, wild, and all-consuming. sweat pools at your temples, but you don’t slow down until you wrench another orgasm out of her. her voice grows hoarse, and she claws at your chest; you lick the tears off her cheeks and kiss her in a way that deludes her into thinking that she’s your one and only.

when you finally cum, it’s with her name on your lips. your hips stutter and your breath is uneven — for you, your pleasure comes mostly from watching her unravel underneath you. hancock never lets you stay over, but she’s surprisingly soft with you afterwards, even letting you run your fingers through her silky, ink-black hair.

the intimacy scares both of you, but you can’t stop yourself from touching her like that. and even though you’re both sticky and sweaty, skin burning in a way that doesn’t make sense, you still stay close to one another.

she opens her mouth several times, the compulsion to curse you out for driving her mad grows weaker as time passes. she watches you fall asleep and she admires your features without restraint. she refuses to tell you that you’re much more attractive than she’d like you to be; she’d rather you be hideous with a shitty personality, but that’s not the case, is it? she’s hopelessly enamored with you, and you with her.

nothing will ever be perfect between the two of you, but you don’t need perfection or superficiality — not with her; you like dealing with the true, raw version of herself. there will be a moment — not now, but in the near future — where you’ll be brave enough to finish your confession; but for now, you keep it to yourself, tucked safely away in your heart, and enjoy the way your limbs are tangled with hers.

[a-court-of-moonlight-and-ire]

Hey so. its been a while. I havent had a lot of energy these past few weeks and when I did I didnt really wanna spend that energy on this bad book series, but its the weekend and its been wayyyy too long and I need to finish ACOMAF before shit starts falling out of my sieve of a brain. As always, I am motivating myself with the prospect of contuining to work on a proshot of the takarazuka production elisabeth after this, the 2014 flower troupe one specifically ^-^ or maybe I'll watch a fucked up black and white movie from the 20s thats two and a half hours long, we'll see

Today we're reading chapter 53, the precursor to The most infamous chapter 54. Im not gonna lie, I kinda forgot most of what happened last time. There was a mate reveal, Rhysand was being really pathetic which made him hot to me for the first time in about 600 pages of me knowing him, Feyre was super pissed so they sent her to the mountain cabin to cool off a bit and paint, i think thats it

is it just me or is it kinda weird that Feyre is fantasizing about green grass and flowers and flowing rivers when the NC so far has been defined by being a very wintery place. Like yeah, obviously they have seasons in the solar courts but like, theres a lot of mountains which means a lot of snow, its the most nothern court etc

And Feyre didnt like winter in the first book because she associated it with bad times at the cabin so that makes sense but idk. I feel like if youre retconning her so much already you could easily wrie something about how she actually likes winter now that she has the power to withstand it or something but no, sure, have her fantasize about very spring-y weather in the book where the spring court gets demonized to hell and back why not

'[Rhysand] would give me the money for my shop, for what I was offering would cost nothing. Maybe I would sell my paintings to pay him back the money. Because I wanted to do that under any corcumstance, soulmates or not.' I was gonna write something snarky about Feyre in ACOSF but then it hit me that shes never going to have financial independance from Rhysand ever again and now Im just sad and anxious for her

(sry, im too lazy to translate this whole paragraph rn) '[Rhysand and I would do a bunch of fun stuff that couples do.] Never again someones slave or whore.' Its so wild to me that shes saying all this about the guy who made her his slave and whore MULTIPLE TIMES AT THIS POINT. like hey sarah, do you think your readers dont remember all that? do you think constantly calling back to it will make them forget somehow

Ive seen some people describe this book as gaslighting and honestly, its not even that its just lying. this story is just a bunch of lies that keep contradicting or otherwise disturbing eachother because the person telling it isnt even a good liar

Okayyyyy this chapter was a lot shorter than anticipated can you tell i dont plan these out at all but i dont feel like doing more than this and also while I was reading i got a really good idea for an Anastasia AU for a different fandom im in and I keep getting distracted and I wanna start working on it as soon as possible. And also, I'd like to be focused when I finally read that most infamous of chapters, thank you and good afternoon

[monards]

hi snuggle muffin

so you said Alicia is mysterious right now but like..how?? i played the game and this bitch is just kinda open. like,, dead gf, mean, somehow has gray hair. everything kinda checks out so like maybe explain a little more???? also,, what is she to bureaucracy?? bc she seems to not like him very much. oh and, what happened with beargrass and his family? since they were like. rude gazillionares or whatever

hiiii electtra; ilysm fooor this ask because i love the chance to be a little annoyying about my favorite mean women (even though you just made me go through hell with your other one.)

youre absolutely right about her being open, but the thing is that it feels more like the false-openness. Like, realistically,, the player really only knows most this stuff from context clues!! Techincally, she never techincally admitted to having a dead gf, but beaford literally just made a wlw and dried lilys joke and alicia freezed up like a fish out of water. So. You sorta realize.

Also, we really only know tidbits of her motives and stuff, but thats it. theyre only small bits. She has a board in the office about a hotel incident from three years ago; is it just a random story? Is it something she was apart of? Did dried lily girl die in it? What about it ??? ALICIIA PLEASE!!!!!! Plus, her motives to bringing Beaford back on the surface ARE what she says it is. Repay for making Alicia go through that shit because he got possessed by some demon. But also; he's probably one of the first examples of the supernatural ACTUALLY being the supernatural in her experince. And what do we know she is?? Skepticle of the super natural. So seeing a whole ass demon possess this really pathetic college drop out is defiently something Alicia finds horribly important considering shes searching for some proof to the super natural. Because really guys.. do you think Alicia Wilkershire went to her highschool guidance counselor sayng she wanted to be an ordained minister and excorist? Yeah, no. That is NOT how it works!!!!!

Alsoooo, i think her and beaford have both a really complicated and a really simple relationship simultaneously. Because on one hand; they are what they are on the surface. Beaford works for Alicia to pay back for the shit he pulled with that demon possession thing. On the other hand; there's WAY more than that.

Alicia is not a very warm and kind person, by like, any means. She's over six feet tall, spicaze herself described her as mean, and she literally repeteadly kicks at beaford WHILE HES DOWN even after the demon stopped possessing him actively. But shes seen being at least a lot kinder with beaford. She watched that one anime with him not even a month into knowing him (even if she bemoans it, actively) and even went far enough to find a reedeeming quality in it (I.E the fashion) !!!!! She lets him poke fun at him (even though, to be fair, she absolutely decks him everytime he does.) And to be frank; this is not stuff that Alicia do with just any person. We can tell shes awkward with most clients; but even when first meeting beaford, she was way more casual and comofortably speaking then she does with Naomi (who she has to lean back on Beaford to talk to !!!!)

Obviously this doesnt take away fromt he fact Alicia IS still a bit (very) mean to beaford. But it's just. Way different from how she treats others. Which is why I'm very convinced its because Beaford reminds her of dried lily girl; especially consdering the aspect of how they have VERY similar speech traits and personailities in regards to Alicia (Poking fun at her, seeing her differently than others do, etc..) especially consdering the conversation we see in the knife ending where Alicia is (presumably) speaking to dried lily in the after life.

Also. I'm pretty sure its canon that Beaford just up and left without saying anything. His family is obviously very rigid in the fact that theyre all doctors and expect the same from Beaford. Plus considering his shock at seeing the photo of him and sister still in his sisters room-- I can really only presume his home life wasn't really the best. So him just up and leaving isnt too shocking/unwarranted

Anyways I really lvoe these two and i'll probably make a post later about them. Thank you Electra. Your sins have been forgiven.

[menalez]

hey i just wanted to say thank you for talking about your SA. i actually had a very similar experience w/ a guy i was really good friends with in high school.

he was my best friend, but i got pressured into dating him by my friends, family, his parents. (his mom guilted me into being w/ him 🙄 practically stalked me til i said yes)

he ended up abusing me for nearly 3 years.

and in that time i wrote stupid notes or letters to him making sex jokes cuz i was a KID. the lawyer we hired blamed me for his actions bc of the letters bc of he did 🤦🏻‍♀️

but even still, some weird part of me misses our friendship that we had before other people started meddling in our business. it makes me feel guilty sometimes, and other times it's relief. iunno trauma is weird.

uh but yeah. thank you for sharing, i know it's hard to talk about and be open with this sort of thing. i just wanted to say that you aren't alone as a lesbian who wrote dumb things as a kid or who missed/misses what friendship you had before your friend SA'd.

i think it's also extremely fucked up for people to judge your sexuality based on the way you tried to cope in the past, let alone now.

just know that a lot of women, myself included, really appreciate you being here c:

hey thank u for sharing ur story with me ❣️ honestly the thing that rly hurt about it looking back is it was in a v vulnerable time in my life. i rly had practically nobody. i lost almost all my friends bc i was suddenly a "whore" for getting raped. i would get these messages on all my social media accounts like "you deserved it" "you were seducing him" "haha hes living a good life and youre cutting yourself looooooooool pathetic!!". my friend group went from a lot of my school (small school but its normal for bahrain) to like ... 4 people in bahrain. one of them was that guy that had a crush on me since we were like 11. he would stand between me n my rapist and went to the principal about it so that i would have lesser proximity and was one of the only people who seemed to empathise w my situation. i felt quite indebted to him n everyone would repeatedly call me an idiot and tell me i should be with him and my mom would say she wishes he could be her son in law or w/e and at one point he started insisting that we are together despite me telling him no we are not & that i dont want to be w him. i gave up on saying no eventually n just went along with all of it. i felt like i was stupid for saying no ??? ppl kept telling me i was n i was like huh i guess i am. never said no again rly, up until the very end where i could no longer ignore it n keep putting myself thru any of that. after leaving that situation i saw how fucked up it was that there were all these obvious signs and me obviously signalling TO HIS FACE that i dont want to be w him, that im not interested in him, that it was further traumatising me n harming my mental health, and also the times where what he was doing would fall under SA....idk i felt stupid for facing one male friend taking advantage of me and then another one doing it soon after right in front of my face n i thought it was somehow different and normal and ok simply bc i wasnt getting downright threatened. but i know if someone else didnt hear my rape story n tell me "uh thats rape and thats fucked up" to begin with i wouldve also probably let that happen again n again too n not thought much about that while getting traumatised until afterwards too.

anyways... im glad that ur out of that situation. im sorry that we have some shared trauma there. shit like this is why i dont even trust "nice guys" anymore fr. i dont think that many ppl can rly understand that sort of situation and i can get how its confusing, bc it was a confusing time for me too. but idk why they think theyd know better than me about my own life either lol

[marshmallowprotection]

Hi Kait.

It’s been a little while. I hope you’re doing well. <3

I’m always rooting for your success and happiness lol.

I feel bad and sheepish because I never wanna be that person who only ever pops by to like,,, dump a vent when I’m struggling.

I wish I had more fun or creative stuff I could share with you more often.

I think about trying to make you a gift of some sort a lot but I always chicken out. 😔

But tbh I think the reason I feel inclined to come here when I’m feeling bad is because when I am struggling,, that’s when I turn to thoughts of Saeyoung as a source of comfort. And your blog is the best outlet I’ve found to be able to express those feelings haha.

At any rate…

I wonder if you can relate to this experience…?

When I was really sick, my mental health issues actually kinda felt better…?

It’s not like they actually went away or anything.

It’s just that,,, I literally didn’t have the mental capacity to fixate on those things like I normally would. I was deadass too exhausted to indulge my anxious or depressed thoughts and let myself spiral lmao

But now that I’m slowly staring to feel better physically, those old patterns and thoughts and feelings have been creeping back in little by little too :))

(Super unfair if you ask me 🙄 bc I *am* still sick and in pain. Just slightly less so. And now I gotta deal with the mental illness on top of it all? Now my bones hurt AND my tummy hurts AND my silly little pathetic heart hurts. Homophobia at its finest, truly.)

And like… I’m trying really hard to claw my way out of this cute little pit of self-loathing I’ve found myself in.

Especially since I know now, better than ever, that it’s completely pointless…

The world’s gonna keep turning whether I hate myself or not. It’s just a matter of whether or not I’m choosing to make myself miserable in the process.

But,,, you know. It’s never that simple.

And. It’s kinda the “trying hard” that’s been making it hurt tbh.

I can’t stop thinking about the ~injustice~ of how hard Ive tried my whole life to build a future for myself where I could finally feel ~stable and happy and loved~ like I’ve been craving my whole life or whatever. But the universe just keeps saying Sike! Over and over :’)

I had to work so hard just to fuckin survive and keep myself alive my whole childhood.

I never thought I’d be able to go to college,, I didn’t even think it was on the table for me.

But I got lucky and got support and encouragement from my friends,, and somehow I managed to make it. And it meant so much to me. I felt so overjoyed and lucky to be able to be in a place where I didn’t have to worry about my safety all the time, or where I was going to sleep or get my next meal. And better yet,, somewhere where I could pursue my dreams and passions and get a little closer every day to a future I never thought I’d have. :’D

Buuuut then Covid hit, my mental health tanked, and I stopped being able to afford my tuition. And even though I was doing everything I could and DESPERATELY trying to figure things out,, it wasn’t enough. Bc nobody at the school would fuckin help me. And it was so frustrating and upsetting to know that, no matter how good of a student I was (I was a 4.0 student in STEM smh)

And no matter how genuine and passionate I was,,,

It didn’t make a difference. Because all they cared about was my money.

Like. Not to be dramatic. But that shit legit shattered my heart and crushed my soul. :’)

Even so! I told myself,,, hey. It’s okay. You can turn this around. You just have to work harder! Push yourself even further! You’re good at that. You’ve done it before. You just need to get a job and save up so you can go back.

So I got my silly lil minimum wage pet store job.

And goddammit, I was great at that too.

I was the best damn employee at my store, if not the whole company 🙄 bc I’m SMART AND PASSIONATE ABOUT LEARNING AND HELPING ANIMALS AND CREATING BETTER LIVES FOR THEM. UGH. 😤

Worked my tits off for a year and a half. Saved up as much as I could. Got over halfway to my goal that would allow me to finally move away from my home state that I’ve always hated. Go back to school. And really and truly get a shiny new ~fresh start~

But then the universe was like, HA bitch you thought!

You actually worked *too* hard this time and now your body is broken.

So… all that money you just saved up…?

POOF! That’s all going to your medical bills now.

Or at least. A tiny fraction of your medical bills :)

And now you can’t keep working to pay those bills off, or save up more money to go back to school. Because you’re too sick!

So like… good luck I guess??

And now I’m here having to deal with the fact that my friends who started school at the same time as me are graduating this semester.

And I’m just. Spending all my days alone in my room helpless and lonely and rotting :)))

It just really stinks that even though I’ve been trying so hard my whole life and putting SO MUCH of myself into literally everything I do,,, it’s never seemed to pay off.

In fact it feels like if anything, all it’s done is come back to bite me in the ass and make the failure hurt worse in the end.

🙄🙄 big “please please please let me get what I want by the smiths” moment

But anyways *ahem*

Like I said,,,,,

Whenever I get to feeling like this. I definitely always end up thinking about and coming back to Saeyoung.

Because… different life situations, obviously.

I’m glad at least I haven’t had to check “lost twin” or “being a secret agent” off my trauma bingo card yet.

But then again. I never thought I’d check off medical trauma either and look how that turned out, so who knows what the future has in store for me? 💀

At any rate,,, I know he’d be able to empathize, and understand those feelings.

More so than anyone I’ve ever met in real life, probably.

That’s definitely a huge part of why he came to mean so much to me in the first place. And why he’s the character I come back to time and time again when things start feeling really unfair.

And,, knowing just how and why he’d be able to understand and relate to those feelings is a big part of why I love him so much…

I just get so overwhelmed any time I get caught up thinking about that man’s endless capacity for goodness and love. Even through all the shit he’s been through. And how,, no matter how hurt he was, how hopeless he felt, or how much he *wanted* to give up. He never ever could. Because that’s just who he is,, if there’s even the slimmest margin of a chance that he could do something to make the world better for his loved ones, he’d drag himself there to the point of physically falling apart and not even think twice about it.

And like,,, yeah,,, it’s an issue in its own right and breaks my heart to think of how far he’d go for others while having so little regard for himself.

But also,,,,, it’s so admirable 😭 I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. Saeyoung Choi is made of love.

And like,,, more than just Ye Olde “self-destruction in the name of helping his loved ones” thing,, I also get so worked up just thinkin about him being his silly dorky self,,

And again just… through everything,, even when he tried to convince himself that it was a front and he wasn’t actually like that,,, he never stopped being bright and curious and passionate,,, because that IS who he is,,, he’s a NERD and he genuinely loves learning and trying new things and having fun,,, and spreading that joy to the people around him. 🥹❤️

It just makes me wanna fuckin SMOTHER him with all of the affection and appreciation I could ever possibly muster up. And tell him over and over and over again how incredible and kind and brave and strong and special he is, and how much I love and adore him, and how lucky and proud I feel to even exist in the same universe as someone so earnestly and relentlessly Good. 🥺🥺

I would simply like to love him to death dhdjdjd

And like. I guess it’s cathartic to me to imagine being able to do that and say those things to him.

And to really just,,, bask in those overwhelming feelings of affection.

Bc I guess that’s how I wish someone would see and feel about me 😅 and that I could have someone in my life who would see how hard I try,, and be proud of me, and make me feel like I have value outside of my achievements in life (or,,, lack thereof). And like,,,, love me for all the times I kept going even when it hurt. That would be cool,,,,

Me out here since 2016 trying to fix myself by fixing Saeyoung 💀💀

Literally even now I feel better than I did when I started typing this message having thought about him and how much I love him fjfjfjf

Kuz,,, there’s the catharsis in thinking about being able to say those things that i wish I could hear myself to someone else.

But then there’s the added layer of self-indulgent catharsis of being able to be like,,,

I mean, hey, Saeyoung probably *would* see you in a similar light,,, if anyone would be able to understand and appreciate those things in me, it would be him. :’D

We are,,, the pointing Spider-Man meme,,, but make it gay dhdhdj

And that shit is,,, overwhelming to think about.

Ahh the euphoria of loving Saeyoung Choi shdhjd

And,, imagining a world where he loves me back just as much,,,

That’s nice,,, :’D

Anyways. I don’t know where I intended on going with this. I feel like I’m just awkwardly talking in circles and not making sense.

And I didn’t mean to get as vent-y as I did there.

I guess I just was all tangled up in my thoughts about all this shit and wanted to try and articulate that side of why Saeyoung means so much to me.

And to have an excuse to gush about my precious little meow meow. 🤡

As usual,,, if you’ve actually taken the time to read through this mess. Thank you haha.

Wishing you the best, always. ❤️❤️❤️

Don't worry, I get where you're coming from.

I had the same experience, similar, anyway. I thought college was the way out and went like I was "supposed" to. I suffered for a long time as a child in an abusive, impoverished environment, and there was no way out but a single door that everyone sold me. Well, as soon as the door closed on high school, my body started to give up. I dealt with a single diagnosis at first, and then, by the next time Spring Break was around, I had two more issues that would nearly cause me to lose my life.

Being on death's door after you've fought so hard to escape is a sick joke, and it's hard to put that grief into words. I'm sure you know what I mean, though. You think you're getting out and then it feels like God is laughing in your face. As if to say, "You thought you were allowed to be happy and free? Ha! Sike!" Hitting rock bottom with those types of emotions is not fun in the slightest. I still feel grief in that way when a bad day comes along. Even if you're working through your feelings, a bad flare will make you struggle.

Being Disabled and Chronically Ill means you're in a perpetual loop of "I'm okay with this" > "I hate this" > "This is okay sometimes" > "Why is it that I'm being punished" > "I can't take it anymore" > "This is... okay. I am okay".

You cycle through acceptance, anger, grief, begging, and everything that comes with loss. We don't have to be okay with our struggles, you know? It's not something people can understand unless it's their experience. Sure, if someone close to you is that sick, you might be able to understand, but not all of it. It's something that can't be put into words. Sometimes, the hardest part is trying to get someone to understand that you won't get better. You will only get worse. It's not like a broken arm.

I want you to know that I've been there. Stuck in a bedroom for years and it hurt. I lost out on experiences because I didn't have support in the way I needed. I had to become my own doctor and advocate the second I realized the healthcare system latched onto my anxiety to blame for all my problems. I haven't had health care in years because America is a piece of shit, but I don't think anyone should be forced to become more intelligent than their doctor to save their life. Then, you have to act like you know nothing because if you know too much, they think you doom scroll health conditions online.

But, that's another thing. You get used to it. You shrug. Your pain is a 7 to an average person but to you, it's a 2. You get used to it. You just learn how to adapt. You forget what not being in pain feels like. I can't remember what it felt like to not have something hurt!

Mental health and physical health are other things. When you've got to deal with both of them, it's weird. You might have a bad day with a flare but your mental health is just fine, vice versa, or the opposite of that. If you're in too much physical pain to think, you're not going to think about your depression. You just sleep. God, one thing that did happen to me was that my compulsive hand-washing started to be something I did less because I physically couldn't get out of bed at one point and I just said, "Fuck it. I can't do it. It's fine."

Still have that issue but it's not what it was. It's hard to explain how these issues clash with each other.

Haha. Anyway, I get it. I know what you mean about Saeyoung 'cause I feel the same way about Saeran. I met the RFA in 2016. I was on the door of death, not knowing what was coming next, and they saved a life that day. I don't know where I'd be without this game. Everyone in the group helped me see a chance to live.

Saeyoung was one of the first, too. I love him like a brother because I saw my sacrifices in him. I'm like him in that sense. I would throw my life on the line to see someone else happy. That's not always a good trait because you need to protect yourself, too.

You can't always give to others. Sometimes, you need to be selfish. But, having him by your side to empathize with is cathartic, you're right. He gets it. He knows what you mean and he doesn't judge.

You love him because you see yourself in him. You know he's capable of love, just like you are, and you know that he's safe. He'd know that you're safe, too. He knows you better than you know yourself, and I'd dare say it's the same way the other way around. That's why it's easy to love him. You know he'll never let go of you. You know he'll always fight for you. You want to be fought for, you want to be loved, and you want a chance to be validated the way you validate Saeyoung.

I'd say there's nothing wrong with that.

I look to Saeran because he'd get me. He's been just as sick as I've been and I wouldn't have to tell him what's wrong in detail. I could just look at him with pain in my soul, and he'd know. He'd get it and I wouldn't have to explain it. He'd just hold me... like I'd just hold him at his lowest moment. I feel like loving him makes me a better person. It reminds me that I have to try to treat myself the way I'd treat him... and the way he'd treat me. He'd want me to see something good even at the worst, and that helps me more than a lot of things.

So, I'd say, if you feel low... think about how Saeyoung would fight for you and help that inspire you to fight for yourself. Because he loves you and he always will, even if the galaxy keeps the two of you apart from one another. If you feel a flutter in your chest, it's him, calling out to your heart with a prayer you'll smile again.

And just remember, talking about your grief helps. Don't ball it up. If you have to write something down to let it out, do it. Never hesitate.

[iamacolor]

I will jump on the discussion bandwagon with some analysis 😂😂😂 because I've been thinking about this for a while. So the big romance dramas this year I'm sorry this is gonna be so long but I like so lay everything out because talking in general doesn't actually show anything if you want to be like "I ain't reading all that but I'm happy for you or sorry that happened" I will completely understand.

Lovely runner: ride or die female lead but you could make the argument and not a weak one that they showed the ml's love and affection in a bigger way.

Queen of tears: Felt pretty even in that regard for me but up for debate.

Marry my husband: The poster girl for uneven dynamics where the ML entire existence revolved around the FL and at the first opportunity she had to show even an ounce of the same she was like nope.

Captivating the king: This one had to do mental gymnastics with its own logic to justify the FL treating the ML like shit 12 episodes deep into the show when it longer made any sense.

Queen of divorce: This one was just sad and pathetic because girlie gets drunk and sleeps with a dude gets pregnant while she's dating ML and then cuts him off with no explanation. ML loves her for years and then simps 24/7 without a shred of dignity, It doesn't help that it was just dumb all around.

Then you have atypical family, wedding impossible, dreaming of freaking Cinderella, midnight romance in hagwon where it's not that obvious in some instances but it was still the typical (haha) guy makes bigger gestures/declarations/ etc

Just as far back as 2020 you could find a much more balanced list: Flower of evil, Mr queen, Hospital playlist, itawon class, tale of the nine taled, run on, find me in your memory, when the weather is fine, into the ring all weren't perfect in this regard but they had really really committed men but also women who maybe liked them and pursued them first( itaewon, WTWIS, FMIYM, hospital playlist in the case of two couples) who protected them with strength or just words (run on, FOV, itaewon, into the ring), who you felt were just as committed as their significant others in most instances. And the differences are so stark side by side You could say we're only a little over halfway through the year but somehow I don't think anything will change. Last year was more of the same there were exceptions like see you in 19th life, call it love, castaway diva but it was mostly the same song and dance; Welcome to samdari, my dearest, perfect marriage revenge, love to hate you, king the land (somehow the most inconspicuous but also the most blatant every big gesture or confession and even the small ones were 99 percent him, was from the ml's side so much so that when he has to deal with emotional trauma they had him do it alone 😂😅😂 and the moment that encapsulates the whole thing is when they're talking to her grandma and he's like I'll make her happy for the rest of her life and she's like I'll be happy with him for the rest of my life like woman please I know you're reassuring your grandma but come on) oh and also soundtrack 2 had people picking up their pitchforks. There was also tell me you love me which was the opposite with the FL being the more affectionate forward one for most of the show and the ml being hesitant because he's deaf and he's been burned so badly before because of his disability and his ex girlfriend not being able to handle it only to reverse uno us and have the FL do the exact same thing which made it so much worse she literally tells him she had a dream he could hear and was so happy and I almost banged my heard against the wall. I can't speak to my demon, park's marriage though because I haven't seen them.

P.S all of this and kdramas come off smelling like roses compared to cdramas which are so so SO much worse. Is it because they almost exclusively adapt novels? Which makes sense for kdramas too because they've started adapting a lot more webtoons and romance novels/webtoons are usually a lot more blatant about the romantic reverie because they're a different medium. If you want balanced couples you need to pick which cdramas you watch very carefully lest you loose all your hair because you're tearing it out. So many of them are : boy gets tortured for girl boy gets stabbed for girl boy literally kills and dies for girl boy says the most unhinged romantic shit you've ever heard in your life to girl. Girl: sure whatever I guess...

jump on it anon!! i'm always up to read some analysis in my askbox honestly it makes me feel like i'm a talk show or something - also the sheer amount of dramas you've listed made me realise i've actually watched very few dramas in the last two years so i definitely felt like we were making progress but maybe no lmao i've only watched lovely runner, castaway diva and soundtrack 2 out of your list of this year and last year - i tried to watch my demon and i was just kind of bored tbh

and omg i had forgotten about when the weather is fine and into the ring! both definitely had very proactive female leads (i love when she's like "should we sleep together" or "i want to sleep with you" or something like that in when the weather is fine) and also really nice stories

as for king the land what do you mean he delt with his trauma alone like was he at the hospital and she didn't visit him??? but yeah i would not be surprised to hear a fl was written more as tool to have the ml show humanity and strenghth and have a goal for his fight and his recovery than as an actual person lol

ngl your description is kind of making me want to watch more cdramas just to see what's going on like why are so many people stabbing and torturing others!! do you have any recommandations?

[hamstermastersamster]

So I feel like The Callisto Protocol may have been reviewed a bit harshly, but after finishing it tonight, I also feel like it's just . . . a super mid, lacklustre game somehow. I had some fun with it, and visually it was nice in that generic AAA way, and some of the jump scares got me, but it was lacking something. It left me feeling like I caught a tantalising whiff of my beloved sci-fi horror, and then the waiter lifted the lid off the plate and it was a tiny salad >:[

I think its cardinal sins are:

Too much gore and horror and viscera and dead bodies in your face right from the get-go, and then it's everywhere all the time so it loses its impact. The whole game feels aesthetically gross (affectionate) but you get desensitised to it basically as soon as you're in the prison

Tedious combat, because really only the melee is effective or enjoyable and once you master how many times to dodge for each enemy, it becomes repetitive no matter how many mobs they throw at you at once (they mostly wait in line to hit you, very polite mutated freaks these lads are)

Shitty guns that aren't visually, audibly or otherwise satisfying to use in any way, and are about as effective as a pea shooter on most enemies. Even when fully upgraded the 'explosive' rounds just look like a little flurry of pathetic sparks - and speaking of . . .

Shitty upgrades that did not stimulate or excite me or feel like they had any major impact on anything

Found myself absolutely starving for a map. While I respect its decision to keep to a really minimal interface without objective markers, map etc. and acknowledge that this can be a valid Game Design Choice, this doesn't really work if you're also going to do that irritating thing where you cut players off from going back if they accidentally go the 'right' way too early. And this happens without points-of-no-return being clearly marked - like a door will just lock behind you without warning or good reason, and that's it :\ Plus I'm just biased towards metroidvania-esque map exploration and progression in my survival horror, what can I say xP

On top of previous point, randomised loot ughhhh . . . and limited inventory space with poorly-spaced vending machines to sell your sellable crap. If you can get 2-3 vends in 5 minutes and then go an hour without one, leaving you to constantly have to optimise the value of your inventory and leave shit behind, it's . . . it's just bad game design, man. And it makes exploring worthless and unrewarding when you know you can't pick anything else up anyway! This is different in map-heavy games because you can plan return trips and stuff, but it's not really possible in TCP.

You can manual save but this actually does nothing but bank your last auto checkpoint, meaning AFTER a checkpoint you could go into the vending machine, sell and upgrade lots of stuff to your liking, wander off and die, and reload and . . . have to do all the inventory shit again. Guess who this happened to, multiple times!

But, y'know, if you like survival horror and sci-fi horror, I'd still give it a shot. It has atmosphere and a decent enough plot, even if it doesn't really do anything original or outstanding.

EDIT: Oh but DO NOT PLAY IF EPILECTIC, there's a lot of strobe and flickering lighting in some areas.

[princess-pill-enjoyer]

I for the first time ever I deleted a post. I'm gonna make that a habit from here on. I'm trying to work on how I communicate when I'm upset annnnd I very clearly was not in the right space at that moment.

Though now that I'm out that daze I don't know how to pick up the pieces. I don't know why I quit but I did atp knowing full well I do not have the money for my uni debt installment.. I nonchalantly took 700 right after rhe fact planning on easing up to much much more in the hopes of escaping that whole situation

I got scared, didn't do the rest, discovered that our landlord was doing an inspection soon, and finally, used that as an excuse and pushed it off til then

And now?

Today is the day of. Well actually ig its the day after now. It's 1:50 am and Saturday atp lol. Dooms day was technically supposed to be on Fri

I've been feeling so trapped. I genuinely don't know what to do from here. Its so fucking stupid. If I could have pushed through for just a week or two longer half of this issue wouldn't even matter. But no. I got so frustrated I just quit on the spot and I was already being stupid before too. I just can't get over this fucking hurdle. I can't. It's like anything I don't want to do just turns into the bigger than it ever needs to be and it takes my all to just get through it. That shit is so draining

But my god like it's not draining enough to where I need to like whole ass unalive myself.. shit. Everytime I come out that daze I cringe at how overdramatic I sound. It's because of my giant problem with asking for help. It is HORRIBLE. The thought of telling anyone what I've been struggling with just sounds like an emotional mess

But everytime I think on it, it feels more and more like my only option is to hurt myself. I so desperately need psychiatric help but who has the money for that? If I don't hurt myself, it won't be considered urgent enough for them to get me help right away. Plus they'd get annoyed with my constant excuses. Not to say they wouldn't still be mad if I were to do something like that.. tho least they'd know it's different this time.

But on the other is it right for me to purposely weaponize my self inflicted suffering to get help right when I want it? Is it manipulative? Is it a necessary sacrifice? I've been wanting this for so long. If i could just keep my head on straight for long enough maybe I could fucking afford it myself.

That's what I hate about it. It's a two in one fuck up. I have $300 I'm somehow supposed to poof up by the end of the month. Tbh I have like $170 more I need to sort out too but it's not as urgent lol. But thennnn that whole sink hole issue plus me quitting.. AGAIN

I literally don't know what to do. I don't want to do it again. I fucking hate the taste, the feel, the everything. I relapsed out of pure desperation and i still was miserable. Worst two days of my life. I felt so pathetic

So now it makes it sting so much worse for that being all that I can think of. Ik I'd get help. But god.. do I have to feel that shit to get it? Do I really have to? What are my other options tho

Jesus. I am so ready to shut down and hopefully just stop breathing. I'm terrified of how bad I'm gonna hurt after I take them all. But I really don't see any other options. The thought of asking for help makes me sick. They're not gonna take it seriously. Ik they'd cheese along originally but they'll get annoyed and hate me. Plus what am I gonna do in December? I still have debt to pay then. That shit is still gon be due.. that's another $200 I need to 100% have or else im gonna fuck up everything. My mom's cosigned on my student loan I literally can't fuck it up.

I've been depersonalizing, dry heaving, and ofc boohooing about it all for so many days. I just want to shut down and not do anything anymore. I don't want to do anything atp. I just don't want to be stuck throwing up and dehydrated again. It feels so gross.

I want to talk to R about it. Disregarding all the extra shit we've been doing lately. Im putting all that bs aside for now. I know that she went through similar. That is it. I hope she's not too busy

[comatosebunny09]

Storm ⛈

Genre: Angst, Modern AU

Warnings: Depression, Self-Loathing, Word Vomit

Inspiration: Cloud - Monsune

I had a dream that Kyojuro was voiced by Christian Bale in English, and now I can’t hear anything but his voice. Somehow, that brought me to this fic. Anyways, please enjoy!

When you get into one of your moods, you tend to shut the world off.

Avoid human contact as much as possible, since you're much more content with sulking in the presence of your own shadow than someone else.

She doesn't pry and ask questions that make you cry, after all.

You hate when people worry. Hate feeling weak in the eyes of someone who otherwise thinks you're built of stone. You've always been like this; spent half your youth glowering at a wall or the inside of a blanket. Pondered over the should-have-beens of your life. Different outcomes and scenarios flashing through your mind with the tenacity of a ferocious flame.

For you, thinking is dangerous. Your mind is an abstract work of splatters and colors and chaos. Your therapist warns that you should try to enjoy the company of others, but solitude brings you the most comfort. Briefly, you dislodge yourself from the inner mechanisms of your mind to intake your surroundings.

Your room is a subdued black, save for the slivers of silver tearing through your blinds, and the dim, blue glow of your cellphone wades over your face. You're cocooned in your comforter, still clad in pajamas from two nights ago. You scroll through your Instagram feed, a dull tint in your eyes. Candy wrappers lie haphazardly on the bed and nightstand.

You've only moved twice: once to pee and again to grab more candy. You haven't showered. Haven't eaten anything filling. You haven't brushed your teeth or made any effort to straighten up, and the thought makes you sink even deeper into a pit of self-loathing.

If your friends, see you like this…if Kyojuro sees you like this...

On cue, your phone vibrates with a message.

The tenth one today.

'Hello, dear Sunflower!’ it reads, his cheerful voice filling your head.

Shit. You've gone and worried him. Stupid, stupid girl.

You ignore it for the umpteenth time. You don't want to talk, not even to him. Yet, like clockwork, another text impedes your vision.

'I have not heard from you today!'

You avert your gaze, tears springing to your eyes. The phone buzzes again. He's growing restless.

'Are you feeling unwell?'

And again...

'I’m worried about you.'

Once more.

'I miss you.'

A few tears scorch your cheeks. Plop softly on the blanket.

'Is there something that I did wrong? Please talk to me.'

A shaky sigh pours from your mouth.

Pitiful.

You wipe viciously at your eyes with the sleeve of your hoodie, finally punching in a reply.

'sorry,' it says.

Really, you are. In more ways than one. Sorry for being worthless, dramatic, selfish, pathet—

'been cleaning all day. lost track of time. i'm okay tho'

It's a lie, and you taste its bitterness on your tongue along with tangy tears. It's a full minute before he responds,

'Alright then. As long as you are doing fine.'

At 5:47, you fall back into the pillows, a pout taking hold of your lips. You are not crying anymore, so that's good. But there is an unpleasant, sticky feeling on your cheeks and in the bowels of your stomach. Somehow, you don't believe his simple reply is the end of it.

Your eyes are heavy now, whilst you glance out the window.

Gray clouds invade the sky, a wary rumble of thunder following. The sound of it is somehow comforting. Reminds you of the storm brewing inside you, often crawling its way forward before exploding with no warning.

You're okay, you muse, exhaustion gripping you. You've weathered greater storms. This is just a small gust of wind in the violent typhoon that is your life. The bed croaks soundly as you roll onto your side, eyes slipping shut. Vaguely, you feel the ripple of your phone behind you. Had you turned around to see it, you would've noticed the dejected text lighting up your screen.

'I don't believe you.'

Masterlist

[wolfcrunch]

Wrote a massive ask about something, change the subject like two times, and now im starting over cuz NOW I know what I wanna talk about.

I've figured out a few reasons why so many people don't like deku. Of course there is the usual, he doesn't fit really any of the cookie cutters that make most shonen characters (however, characters like Todoroki and Bakugo do, and despite their flaws, everyone fucking drools over them constantly).

My next point: deku doesn't talk about his trauma. His entire life is fucked up, but hes pretended forever that its fine and normal, which has influenced us viewers horribly so that we don't see how messed up he is. We forget what has happened to him and all we see is this pathetic scared teenager who cries at everything because that's basically how he acted in the first like 4 episodes. Bakugo himself has even said deku doesn't really look at or think about himself at all (also demonstrated in like literally everything he says and does) and so we have seen hardly any of his pain. The doctor scene and the scene where his mom apologizes and cries is JUST the beginning. The events of the first episode were a sample of his everyday life (minus meeting all might or running into a villain ofc). We forget the entire fucking decade between these moments. A DECADE OF EPISODE ONE. Think about that.

Now I'll compare him to Bakugo and Todoroki, two beloved characters who get much less backlash, if any. Bakugo has talked about how he knows he's messed up, we have seen him change, and I guess he's more relatable somehow. Todoroki has talked openly about his trauma, we have seen chunks of it, we have seen the absolute worst of it (his mom and the boiling water probably) and we have seen him grow as a person (his entire character arc and also how he treats his dad after the tournament arc). We know him, we've seen him struggle and we see him moving past his animosity towards endeavor. He has asked for help and advice from him too.

Do I see anyone calling Todo an abuse apologist? No. Do I see people forgiving endeavor as easily has they did Bakugo? Absolutely not, which is not a bad thing, but the amount of people I've seen basically idolizing bakugo despite his past mistakes is almost astonishing to me. Of course many people can and should forgive baku, but no one loves deku like they do todoroki. Todo isn't in 2nd or 1st just cuz he doesnt get anywhere near as much screentime as deku and baku, and also prolly cuz he is not as relatable as bakugo, just like deku. Deku gets so so much shit and for what? You didn't like how he acted in the beginning of season one?

In conclusion, I am mad about how much hate deku gets, I wrote too much about bakugo and endeavor parallels when they shouldn't really be compared but its not my fault cuz all might himself has also pointed out similarities, and you probably know exactly who is writing this even tho I decided to go incognito and I cant remember why. Sorry I wrote you an essay<3

this has been in my inbox for a fair while and im sorry for the delayed response but you hit the nail on the head!

i feel like people go into a shonen, not expecting to be hit with a main character who despite being emotional, still hides a lot of stuff about him and his past. from both the cast, his friends and teachers, and us as the readers/audience. deku is a rather real-feeling character, who has gone through trauma and hasn’t had the chance to speak out. he’s instead decided to bury it within, trying to push it to stay in the past as he feels his current life is now better and free of all those troubles.

he bottles a lot of things up. it leaves an ever-lasting effect on him, even after he receives one for all and gets into ua. and for viewers who understand, they come to greatly love and appreciate his character and the growth he goes through, while noting how he has yet to face his past. people who don’t understand however, do just see how you worded it. a pathetic scared teenager who cries at the drop of a hat. him crying is such a noticeable trait within the first season, especially as a lot of his development past that has been a lot more subtle in comparison to todoroki and bakugou.

deku dives in and is reckless, and his flaws bubble at the surface a lot whenever he’s in focus (not that flaws are bad - good characters will have flaws), and people will often tend to heavily criticize him if he acts too differently from the deku they’re used to. crybaby deku. despite the fact those very same people want a more confident character. they want more fights. they want a character like bakugou or todoroki. yet whenever deku doesn’t act like the deku they know, it serves as another ‘reason’ to hate him, because they claim his character isn’t consistent, or that because he is reckless, he deserves consequence.

a lot of people who hate on him fail to see just how interesting of a character deku is however, for the role he’s taken and especially with the current setup horikoshi has given him to finally confront past deku, and to hopefully stop being so reckless. he’s yet to have a big character shift that turns readers heads.

but its coming, and i wholeheartedly believe in horikoshi to deliver.

[sylverstorms]

Cassandra x Maiden----Anonymity Ch.2

Chapter 1.

From a molten orb in the sky, the sun descends to nothingness and gives way to the pale light of the moon.

Another day has come to its end. And somehow, you’re still alive.

Still alive and still cleaning the massive library of castle Dimitrescu. It took you the entire evening, but you’re finally almost done. Only a couple more shelves to go and you can get some much-needed rest.

The cloth in your hand doesn’t slow for even a second as it rubs over every mahogany inch within your reach. You keep your eyes on the rows upon rows of ancient books and their decorated spines, to forget exactly how high up you currently stand.

You don’t think you could breathe normally if you look down. No, your eyes refuse to go that route…

That is, until something small and black dances in out the corner of your vision. An insect, barely the size of your pinky nail, decides this is a good time to distract you. It is not. You ignore the creature to the best of your ability, but its insistent buzzing around your head, closer to your ear every time, eventually drives you to madness.

You swat it off. Unsuccessfully.

The ladder gives a tiny creak in protest that sends your heart into overdrive. Fuck you, you think. This stupid fly isn’t worth the danger.

But then…

A painful sting comes at the crook of your neck, like a curved needle driven harshly into your flesh. It is more of a slash than a bite; your eyes immediately prickle with unshed tears, your back tenses so hard you nearly pull a muscle right there. Instinctively, you jerk and slap the creature off of you.

The ladder wobbles from the sudden movement.

Your fall becomes a certainty.

What a messed-up sense of humor the universe has. In a house full of killers, you muse, you’ll die from a cracked skull because of a bloody fly. It’s so pathetic it is almost laughable.

A rush of air whooshes behind you, followed by the sound of a thousand tiny wings batting. By the time you realize what just transpired, a familiar body crashes into your back, half pinning you against the bookshelves and half supporting you on the now steady ladder.

Of course. Cassandra.

You know it’s her because you recognize her spicy perfume and subtle hint of bath salts underneath its fragrance. You don’t want to, but it is a scent that has lingered in your senses longer than you’d like. Longer than makes sense, considering you haven’t seen her in nearly three whole weeks.

You don’t know if you should be grateful for her saving you, since she’s also the reason you damn near fell to your death.

How did you not think it was one of the daughters messing with you, you wonder, when you saw the odd fly? Then again, you didn’t think they were capable of remote controlling just one and so precisely.

“Hello again, Miss Delicious.” she purrs by your ear. “Miss me?”

You somehow fight off the shiver that threatens to roll down your spine. She’s far too close to your neck, while blood steadily oozes, warm and thick, out of the wound there. What’s worse is your hands are glued to the sides of the wooden ladder from the shock, with no hope of releasing it anytime soon. You can’t push her away. Not that it would have made any real difference, considering her strength. But the thought you just can’t makes the situation ten times worse.

You are helpless. You are prey.

Cassandra’s breath ghosts over your skin. The fabric of her hood tickles your ear as she leans in. She’ll lick the blood away, you think. You brace yourself for it. Just a quick brush of tongue –hopefully— and that will be it.

You are not so lucky.

As if this isn’t already too much, Cassandra adds her tongue into the mix. She licks you like you’re her ice-cream, getting a small taste at first, then pressing into the wound when it doesn’t supply enough blood to satisfy her. Your lips part soundlessly; you don’t want to know if the sound that would have escaped them is a cry or a moan.

Instead, you feel soft lips close around the injury, trapping the precious beading crimson there. A languid suck comes that seems to last forever.

Your stomach free-falls with how it drops. Your arms tremble for reasons beyond the strain you’ve put on them.

It—hurts.

It hurts, but. The proximity, how she keeps her mouth on you and the way she’s starting to almost grind into your backside are so unbearably erotic the pain only heightens sensation. You are holding your breath, at this point, because you don’t know what is happening, if you like it, if you hate it –but oh God what is she doing with her tongue— if she’s killing you or having sex with your neck.

“Cassaaandraaa!”

Lady Dimitrescu’s voice echoes throughout dark corridors to reach your ears. The sound is faint to you but it must be blaring for the daughter because she jumps, startled.

It is time for dinner and she’s late. the small part of your brain that still functions and hasn’t yet been reduced to a hormonal mess is quick to point out.

Cassandra lets out a shaky breath –growl?— past her teeth that feels way more frustrated than it sounds. For a second, you think she’s leaning back towards your ear as if to whisper a secret…

But then, the solidity of her form breaks into hundreds of buzzing insects. She is gone the next instant past the open doors as though a ghost, an apparition never truly there in the first place.

You stand on shaky legs, confused on all levels and desperately trying to catch your breath. You want to just get down from this fucking ladder and take a shower, then dress your injury and finally go to sleep. You want to forget whatever the hell this was and you do not want to see her unreasonably attractive face in your dreams.

Your legs don’t feel like they can adequately support you, but you clench your jaw and fight your way down regardless.

The long route is taken to the maids’ rooms, just to avoid going anywhere near the Dimitrescu family. Once you’re safely in your bedchambers, you shrug off your clothes and head straight for the showers.

The cool water does wonders for your body after the hours of work you’ve endured. Being in its embrace for a while, you think you’ve washed the day completely off of you. Yet as soon as you brace your arms on the wall, it’s like you’re trapped one hour back in time. Suspended mid-air with her behind you, her mouth perfectly fitted to the junction of your neck.

The faucet nearly breaks with the force you put into shutting it. This accursed family has already taken your life under their control. They cannot be allowed to take your thoughts, as well.

It takes a long time for your shivers to die down under the heavy covers of your bed. When you’re finally warm enough, exhaustion takes over. Your eyes droop shut and you fall into the world of dreams. Yet even there, it seems, there is no escape. No sanctuary to be found.

You are chased down corridors filled with gore, while insects nibble at your arms and back. Creatures with way too many rows of teeth groan and hiss and gain in on you. You don’t want to die. You don’t want to die—

Somewhere in the depths of your nightmare, you feel the bed beside you dip. A cold touch that you later tell yourself is just a leftover from the nightmare brushes over the fresh cut that’s reopened from you straining your throat.

When your eyes snap open in the darkness of your room, however…

You are all alone.

-

-

-

Meanwhile somewhere in castle Dimitrescu…

Cassandra steps out of the shadows to join her two sisters, seated opposite from each other on the luxurious couch and playing Snakes and Ladders. Of course, they didn’t have the decency to wait for her. Their mother is off to the side, smoking at the balcony.

Three sets of eyes briefly fall on the middle daughter and she doesn’t like it one bit. Daniela’s subtly heterochrome gaze lingers, her mouth twists into the shit-eating grin that signals only trouble and Cassandra knows to wrap her fingers –lightning-fast—around her neck before she can call her out for being late. Some things are just better left unsaid.

Except, Bela looks up at her under her hood and gives a little smirk. Cassandra can only really choke one of them. Don’t say anything stupid. She warns with her eyes.

Bela, the traitor, speaks up anyway. “Not like you to be late twice in a row, sister. Especially at dinner. What has you so distracted, lately?”

“You’re dead.” Cassandra mouths, fingers tightening around Daniela’s neck, who is trying, unsuccessfully, to hit her. Then, in her nicest voice, since their mother can now hear, she replies “Some of us have actual hobbies, Bela.”

“Sounds interesting.” the elder sister hums.

Cassandra makes the mistake of releasing Daniela to advance on her, but— it is a grave mistake. “Hobbies as in the huuuuman you’re thirsting after—” A swift elbow flies at the youngest Dimitrescu’s side but she blocks it. “Hey. Hey, Bela. What do you call something that’s both horny and hungry?”

“…Horngry?” Bela chuckles.

“Cassandra.” Daniela cackles and Bela –this fucking traitor— snickers. The brunette doesn’t even want to check their mother’s reaction—

Alcina drops her forehead onto her palm.

It’s decided. Cassandra is killing Daniela for the greater good.

.

Ko-Fi