#and instead focus on the region which desperately needed the attention!!

[yunhostinyuyu]

bunny, bunny

pairing: friend!yunho x fem reader

gerne: pwp (im sorry), uni au, friends to friends with benefits

wc: 1.8k

synopsis: when your friend and you ended up in a bed in between each other’s thighs, your friendship was in danger of being disrupted. thankfully, you two came up with a solution…

warnings: cock warming, public play, exhibitionism, grinding, descriptions of past sex scenes, use of pet names, orgasm control? a little praise and a little degrading thrown in too because why not

authors note: this is not proof read and I wrote it at 1am please be kind <3

—

It was a summery afternoon, Yunho and you spend it per usual at the park near campus, studying for your final exams. The last rays of sunshine shining though the pine trees that spend shade to the entire space decked in greenery and flowers. It was especially quiet at this time, which was the reason you went there regularly. Yet the specific place in the very back spend and enormous amount of silence that the both of you enjoyed thoroughly.

But despite the breeze that fanned over your legs and arms, your insides were burning. As if someone poured hot chili sauce in your gut, focus not present and the notes you compared and tried to burn into your memory were wasted efforts. The burn inside churning your stomach in all shapes, trying to sit still - but to no avail.

Why? Because your friend right next to you railed you last weekend, and since then acted as if nothing had happened between the two of you. Never had you ever thought of him like that, but ever since it happened, you couldn’t pull your mind off it. It was a thought chain that disrupted every effort to study, reimagining the things that went down in his bed. But anytime you tried to hint at it or even talk about the incident, he avoided it, changed the topic, or even flat out pretended he didn’t know what you were referring to. And it was exhausting. You were even considering forgetting about the whole thing to continue on with your friendship and not to get the mush of sexual fantasies and your blatant neediness between that.

But still, you thought about it. You couldn’t not think about it. Never had anyone… fucked you the way he did.

“I love the way your boobs bounce, the way you clench around me like that- fuck, like that. You feel so snug around my cock, so good bunny. Just for me.”

Panting. Moaning. Maintaining your rhythm. Repeat. He stretched your walls so well, the constant dragging against your velvet walls make you go crazy. Orgasm pending as your legs got more tired, yet trying your best to continue riding your friend.

“Dumb little bunny, getting tired already? Don’t you want to cum?” He teased, seeing and feeling your struggle, releasing a incoherent chain of moans and complaints. His smirk still ever present on his lips, clearly enjoying himself. After a few more attempts on continuing to get your release on him, he rolled over to change your positions, moments before your thigh muscles would have given out.

“Bunny, answer when I ask you something. Do you wanna cum on my dick, huh? I guess you don’t want to then…” he provoked, knowing exactly what he was doing while slowing his movements. “Yun, no! No I wanna cum, please don’t stop, I’m begging you, please please please, I’m just a dumb little bunny. Make me cum, please Yunho. I need-“ he muffled your pleas with his giant hand, pushing his fingers against your tongue while snapping his hips harder then before, sounds of skin slapping filling the room. Crying as he gifted you with your well earned orgasm.

“Snap out of it, Y/N. You’re off somewhere in Dreamland.” his deep voice woke you from the depth of your naughty mind.

“Fuck- Yunho! Don’t startle me like that!” Playfully hitting his arm as you try to compose yourself again and at least pretend to study, so you can find an excuse to get home and take care of the blinding ache that was slowly bubbling up in between your legs.

Yunho got another book out of his backpack, flipping through the pages as he side eyed you again and again. “What did you think about? You’re been really distant today, I’m almost offended.” His voice sounded calm. And yes, he was right, you acted strange - but to your defense, you didn’t know what the late events made you two. Mind rattling without coming to a conclusion, you simply sighed and looked up from your study material. Rolling over from laying on your stomach, to now rest on your back and searching for Yunho’s attention.

“Yunho, I don’t - no I can’t anymore. You idiot make me crazy, all I can think about is you fucking me and I can’t get this image out of my head. And I can’t stand how you keep on pretending it never happened. I hate this so much. I cannot get over it, and you certainly don’t help with your whole spiel.” words hitting him square in the chest, and even while they came out more forceful than you imagined in your head, it seemed to work in your favor… well more or less…

“Bunny, bunny, if you want me to touch you, just tell me. I can tell by the way your thighs rub together…”

“That’s not what I mean Yunho. You’re doing it right now, again! You’re avoiding the issue at hand, and if you don’t man up I’ll leave until you grow a pair of balls.” You shake your head, denying your arousal pooling in favor of getting your point across. His features turned serious for a moment. Closing your eyes in frustration and hiding your face behind your fingers to avoid his stare boring through your skull. But before he said anything, you felt something along your legs-

“You’re too riled up. But let’s talk this though if it bothers you - which it clearly does. But before that-“ his fingers traveled up until they felt the damp material of your panties, moving it to the side to push his own digits in. Mentally cursing at your choice to wear a skirt today of all days. “- let’s relax. Please, just sit up.”

Trying your hardest to keep any signs of newly found ecstasy to yourself, one hand moving in and out of your hole, the other wrapping around your waist to pull you up from your lying position and bring you onto his lap. His chest pressing against your back, his mouth ghosting over the shell of your ear. Whispering, only for you to hear “good bunny, now-“ he pulled his fingers out of you, which contracted a short whine from your end, and despite trying your best to play coy, you failed. Feeling a grin on his face as he continued to work you up. One hand untucking his half-hard member out of his sweatpants. Your mind went blank as you felt him teasing your entrance, hands searching for him to stop.

“Yunho, we’re in public, someone will see us. Please-“ you whine, slowly loosing control of yourself and almost grinding against him, begging for stimulation. Without answering, he slipped inside effortlessly thanks to your arousal that drenched your core. Lewd moans leaving you as his grip found your hips again, holding you close to him, while not giving you a chance to fuck yourself on him.

At this point all the built up composure was thrown out the window and you tried your hardest to get any stimulation from him, which his death grip on you prevented. “Stop clenching, let’s talk.” He commented, not letting up on you. Brows furrowed in confusion while glancing back at him.

“I didn’t expect you to be this needy for me in public. It explains a lot. But in all seriousness…” he started, and despite everything, you could think clear thoughts again, his rough touch comforting you in a way. “Let’s talk it through.”

Deep sighs escaped while chewing on the inside of your cheek. “You know, I don’t know. It was all so awkward since we… you know, did it. I don’t want to loose our friendship but at the same time my mind is filled with you. But not my friend from Uni-Yunho, instead it’s just ‘bunny looks so good doing this and that’-Yunho.” You found it surprisingly easier to talk your mind without having to look into his eyes. But your voice was thin and could break off any moment to turn into whispers.

“I’m- I don’t know what to say, honestly. Did I ever make you feel uncomfortable, or push you to do things you’re not okay with?” He asked out of the blue, and you shook your head vehemently at his question. His grip on your hips let up, feeling that his hold may cause a few bruises, but that was the last of your concerns. “Never. If it did, we would have never gone that far. You know me, I’m quick to reject people when I feel iffy.”

A soft, breathy laugh left him and you felt his warm breath against your neck. “I know. Suppose I’m lucky then.” Hands coming back to lift you off his cock, and you turned around to face him. Slowly sinking back onto him and finding his hands once you bottomed out.

You both were nervous about this, but nonetheless you were determined to get this topic over with, to come to a conclusion. A proper result to see where you both stand at.

“I have a proposal then.“ he spoke, hands leaving yours again to hold you and make you sink onto his boner once again, this time moaning louder than the first time, and a heat crawled up your neck and cheeks. “What if we…“ he guided you up and down, your hands frantically grabbing onto his shirt to deal with the sudden stimulation. Tiny groans tumbling from his lips as well, “Let’s keep this casual. Make it our thing. We don’t have to get caught up with any feelings or attachments. We can simply keep going as friends, and when… you know. We get desperate, we can play with each other.” He suggested while keeping a steady rythym, bucking his hips ever so perfectly, hitting your spots better than anyone before him did.

“Are you suggesting that we- oh fuck! T-that we… become friends with benefits? Mmmh- you sure about this?” trying your hardest to talk properly without drawing too much attention to your situation. Even if any bystander wouldn’t think you were getting off in public, your skirt hiding both of your private regions perfectly. Your sounds and movements would prove anyone otherwise.

Yunho slowly but surely slacked off and stilled his movements while staying snug inside you again. “That’s what I’m saying. You think you can do that?”

In all honesty, this newly found confidence surprised you, but it suited him so well, ever since becoming intimate with him. And having this side of Yunho, alongside a normal friendship, a friendship you cherished and celebrated? Where he still was that funny, yet slightly clumsy and sarcastic person? It seemed like a jackpot.

Breathily, leaning your forehead against his, and nodding at his suggestion. “I can. I want to. I mean, I wanna try this thing with you. Please-“

Suddenly, lips slotting against your own sloppily. Hands touching you everywhere, heavy breathing and panting.

“Let’s take this back to the dorms then, bunny. Be good and I’ll make you cum as much as you want. Sounds good?”

—

[hitodama3]

The Consorts Go Feral

Story ideas someone please please please write this I need it.

So there's some kind of competition where all the different regions of the demon realm get together. So of course SQQ and SQA have to go with their demon husbands.

At the competition SQQ and SQA are just chilling when they over hear their husbands stating that they'll win the competition for them. It's a pairing based competition where all the high rank demons do some competitions and scavenger hunts and stuff like that So of course the demon lords and their consorts are going to compete together.

Now they don't mean it in a bad way it's just demon instincts that they want to show off for their consorts and provide for them so that they don't have to actually participate but will still win and get the prizes. Especially considering they didn't want to come to the competition.

Now both SQQ and SQA are millennials and even though they didn't want to come if they hear someone making fun of them and saying they couldn't actually do the thing they didn't want to do they're going to do it out of spite.

Enraged that their demon husbands think they're such delicate flowers that they could not win the competition they declare then and there that they are going to be on a team together and they'll see who wins the competition then.

Combining SQQ's monster knowledge and SQA's world knowledge they make a formidable team. Then the system decides to make it interesting and make it a quest for b points or some kind of reward at the end but once the quest is activated LBH's protagonist Halo is turned off so that he won't automatically win the competition.

So since the north is the one hosting this event and SQA had to set most of it up he knows the entire schedule for the event. So on the first day SQQ is left to win the first competition while SQA sets up for the second day. You don't need both competitors to be there to win the competition and just one of them has to do the work to win.

So the teams or the three teams that the stories mainly going to focus on is SQQ and SQA, LBH and MBJ, and a surprise pairing that showed up to crash the competition TLJ and ZZL!

So first day is a killing competition there is some kind of sensor or something that tracks how many beasts that you kill. SQQ using his knowledge of flora and fauna finds the blood trees that inhabit the area of the competition is being held and since he can use leaf attacks he's able to infuse the slightly sentient trees with his qi communicating to them that they can use him as the lure flower to attract prey and they'll get to consume any of the beasts and the blood that is attracted by him. So not having to do any work SQQ sits down in the middle of these trees like a lotus flower in his bright green robes and flares his qi drawing monsters to the trees that then kill them and the blood starts soaking into the ground so eventually his robe gets stained with blood. So his counter keeps going up for kills because he is technically the one bringing in the kills even if he's not doing it himself. SQA has gone off on his own to bring them a last-minute win if needed and also to prepare for tomorrow's competition.

Team demon lord and team former demon lord are still heavenly demons and so they are the only ones at the top of the scoreboard that are battling super hard. SQQ is still keeping up with them but is remaining in third place and it's kind of annoying him but he's also not actively putting in any work trusting that airplane is going to pull through.

The day is almost over and both team demon Lord and team former demon Lord are baiting each other as they're trying to find even a little bit more prey and they come upon SQQ in the middle of the cove of blood trees just looking transcendent in his light green robes as the entire floor of the forest is just covered in blood and you see that his robe goes from its nice translucent green to the bright red of blood and he looks amazing.

LBH and TLJ try and tease him for being in third place when there's only a few seconds left to the competition about to end when suddenly team consort score skyrockets and airplane pokes his head out from behind a tree shaking his hands complaining about an ant hill or whatever the proud immortal demon way version of an ant hill is that had gotten flooded and eventually drowned them due to the blood building up in the cove of blood trees which is what airplane was betting on. Though the ants aren't impressive to kill they still count as lives taken and So team concerts score considers that as lives taken and puts them in first place.

Team demon Lord are of course very impressed and infatuated with their consorts but SQQ and SQA are still peeved about the earlier comments and snub them for the night and have a sleepover but of course demons being demons think that the concerts are sleeping together because of the fact that they're snubbing their husbands.

The other demons are also impressed by them winning and thinks since they are mad at their husbands they might get a shot with the consorts and that just makes team demon Lord very mad. Of course team former demon lord specifically TLJ is going to rattle the beehive because he enjoys chaos and likes to tease his son so will be flirting with SQQ and inciting ZZL to flirt too.

SQQ Will ignore it or be oblivious as usual. SQQ is under the impression that since demons are might makes right if he wants to make a impression he needs to be very aggressive instead of his very calm demeanor as a peak lord. SQA who is a gremlin and enjoys causing chaos and is still mad at his husband is not going to tell SQQ any different. So SQQ on the second day is channeling all of his anti. fan hatred and his S tendencies to verbally and physically destroy the other demons when needed. Demons who are might makes right society meaning they're attractive to people who are powerful meaning that they're all slightly M's under all that bluster are very attracted to this. SQA who sees his son LBH wanting to tear all of them apart for looking at his consort and feels vindictively pleased for all of the anxiety his son has caused him.

Now because SQQ acted as the lure flower and brought them such great amounts of food that the blood trees will probably not have to eat for another year means that the trees have taken a very great liking to him. So to improve his image of terrifying the blood trees have started interacting with him just as he walks around or doing things for him like picking up his fan if he drops it or if he needs something the roots will spring from the ground and bring it to him and finally to make him more demonic to go with his aggressive approach he's taken to the vines weave a crown of branches around his head making him look like he has his own set of horns.

The demons are very curious if SQQ is a demon that has been parading as a cultivator. Now the second day of the competition is a battle campaign where the top three teams from the day prior will be put in charge of the other teams based on a lottery and will wage war. The top teams being the generals in the war. SQA knew this and prepared in advance for it setting up a bunch of booby traps and acquiring a certain animal for SQQ to tame with cucumber bros ability to cause anything demonic or non-demonic to fall for his charms. SQA Will lead the army in the front to utterly decimate team demon lord and team former demon Lord while SQQ is to stay back and look intimidating.

Essentially make all of the focus be on cucumber bro while airplane bro is able to work behind the scenes and take down the armies while they're too focused on cucumber bro. To assist with this since cucumber bros outfit is soaked in blood from the day prior airplane prepares a more demonic outfit meaning there's very little cloth involved in black and dark green to give cucumber bro a bit more demonic aesthetic. He gives a BS reason to assist with cucumber bros misinterpretation of demonic culture that cucumber bro will be valuing the culture by dressing like this. SQQ is aware there's a trap involved but not where the trap is so just goes along with it because he is still mad at LBH.

So cucumber bro comes out in this dark black and dark green outfit with his striking face especially making him look very disdainful & beautiful due to the color change and the demons are taken with him. Especially because the blood trees have weaved the branch horn crown into his hair this morning instead of him putting in his normal hair piece and so he looks very demonic.

Airplane puts into action his second part of the plan and gives cucumber the hellhound babies that he had acquired the day prior. Cucumbers immediately smitten with them of course and fawns on them all day completely ignoring his husband and his increasingly desperate attempts to get cucumbers attention.

Now it's time for them to wage war and cucumber sets up shop in his blood forest now and looks like he's the one leading the army but really airplane is working his magic in the background and suddenly destroying everyone while they're paying too much attention to cucumber.

ZZL tries to capture SQQ on orders TLJ but he's trying to be respectful and not touch him too much and apologizing for having to be rough. SQQ has a soft spot for ZZL and the care and loyalty he's shown and does not want to harm him either. Now airplane was expecting this so had made sure that cucumber had a container of that rice wine whatever alcohol was used in the book to intoxicate ZZL after hearing about SQQ's misadventures in his plant body.

Because of this ZZL is intoxicated and immobilized by the blood trees think very much the tentacle hent*i after all this is airplanes world. He is struggling a lot and even though they were enemies SQQ does really like ZZL And doesn't want him hurt So what does Mr I need to hide LBH who has snuck onto the premises from his father of course I'll throw a bed sheet over him and sit on him do? But sits on ZZL's back while he's struggling using him like a chair or bench. Then completely oblivious to the sexual overtones and quite sadistic overtones of what he's doing he says something like ZZL makes a very comfortable chair and that he shouldn't struggle so much placing the container of wine or alcohol right in front of his face so that he stays intoxicated and the trees tighten so he can't move from his position.

LBH is chugging vinegar at this point. Eventually LBH and TLJ Make it to where SQQ is enthroned in his circle of trees but because the protagonist Halo is taken off SQQ is able to fight them to a standstill until the blood trees are able to immobilize them because the second benefit of these trees is that they are one of the few flora that can take out heavenly demons and are unaffected by heavenly demon blood outside of drinking it makes them stronger.

After immobilizing TLJ SQQ Will come up to him and lightly stroke the fan across his body up to his chin saying that he won't go any further or something similar because TLJ is quite breakable while cucumber is referencing the plant body thing where TLJ would fall apart everyone nearby thinks something entirely different and in the much more S category.

SQQ Then turns to his husband and lightly taps his fan against his chin mockingly asking what he thinks he might be able to do now that he has completely taken over both generals of one team in the war game and has one general from the other team. LBH is slightly confident that they'll come to a tie because MBJ will obviously be able to take out airplane but just as he says that airplane comes trotting into the cove of trees with MBJ tied up and immobilized on the back of a cerberus like hellhounds that is apparently the mom of the litter that airplane left with cucumber bro. Seeing that cucumber bro treated them so well and that they liked the two cultivators the mom decided to help out just as airplane planned. The hellhounds are fire based demons and were able to absolutely destroy the ice-based demons MBJ included.

So at this point team consort has won two out of the three events so they're obviously the winner and at this point the third day is just all of the demons trying to prove they would be good partners for the two consorts since obviously there husbands aren't satisfying them if they are participating in the event together.

The third day is a scavenger hunt for rare items and I haven't thought of what would happen during that day past that is a scavenger hunt so you can have free license with that day on what happens. Whether they sweep the competition and then have their wicked way with their husbands or if they decide to sleep with someone else.

This post had no structure and was very voice to text so I apologize for probably the large amount of grammar mistakes I just needed to get this idea out.

[jonahlovescoffee]

Multitasking | J.M.

a/n: kinda cringe? idk but i don’t wanna let it stay in my drafts either so yeah lol happy reading <3

summary: you wanted jonah’s attention and he’ll give it to you, even though he’s on a phone call.

warnings: smut without coitus bc i’m lazy to write that part-

word count: 3040

“Jonah, your lovely girlfriend is here,” you chirped happily when you entered his house a spring in your step, excited to finally be able to spend some alone time with him, something you hadn’t done lately because of him being busy with all the necessary preparations for the new album’s release while your schoolwork had been taking up too much of your time. However, your face fell immediately when you were greeted with the sight of him on his phone, chatting away with someone. It was supposed to be just the two of you today making full use of the rarely empty house. His face lit up when he saw you, but he made no move to end the call. You nudged your head towards his phone with your arms crossed in front of your chest, urging him to end it or else you’ll choose to end him instead.

“Just one more second, I promise,” he told you, pulling you down to give you a quick kiss in a weak attempt to wipe the evident scowl off your face. “It’s important.”

You rolled your eyes and plopped down on the empty seat next to him. “Fine, but make it quick,” you prompted, taking your phone out to hopefully find some ways to entertain yourself for the time being. He wrapped an arm around you in a silent apology, which you responded with laying your head on his shoulder as he continue talking.

“Yeah, y/n just came over,” he said and you heard a vaguely familiar voice speaking from the other side of the phone, but the sound was too muffled for you to decipher it into coherent words. “Daniel, we can talk about your music ideas another day.”

You internally groaned when you heard the name of your friend’s boyfriend and the mention of music ideas because you knew Daniel long enough to know that it always took ages for him to finish rambling about all his new musical creations. You usually wouldn’t complain about that because you were a huge music buff yourself and having the chance to discuss music with someone as enthusiastic as him was a gift from god but he should know that now wasn't the right time to do so.

Another reply came from the other end of the phone. Jonah seemed to hesitate for a while before offering an answer this time, glancing sideways at you to make sure that you weren’t about to explode with anger. You sighed but sent him a soft smile and he mouthed a silent “you’re the best” in return. “Okay, okay, let’s hear it then,” his hand found yours and gave it a light squeeze.

You scrolled through your chat log to find Emily’s contact, before sending her a message to ask for help. Is there any way you can shut your boyfriend up? Because he is stealing mine from me.

A reply came mere seconds later. LOL I’ll see what I can do.

Just when you were about to thank her, your phone vibrated and another message from her appeared on the screen. Fuck. The studio door is locked and I forgot where he keeps the keys.

You swore the next time you saw Daniel, you were going to hurl all six feet of him into the pool and make him drown. Wow, I can’t believe my luck today.

Don’t be such a whiner. You can try to make Jonah pay attention to you instead ;) She suggested and an idea popped into your head right away.

Have I ever told you how much I love you?

Ahh I love you more bb <3 was the last reply from her before she went offline, the green dot beside her profile picture disappearing.

You put your phone back into your bag and turned towards your boyfriend to find him still deeply engrossed in his conversation. You shrugged his arm off you and moved your body to assume the position on top of one of his thick muscular thighs, facing him. He raised an inquisitive brow. You wrapped your arms around his middle and nuzzled into his neck, inhaling the alluring scent of him that did nothing but fed your lust.

“I want you so bad,” you whined softly, earning a stroke of your hair from him, his hand subsequently sliding downwards to rest at the small of your back, his touch leaving a trail of goosebumps down your spine.Your hands did their own exploring too, your fingers tracing the curves and edges of his shoulder blades down to his biceps, humming in satisfaction at all the new muscle you found beneath your fingertips. He hadn’t been joking when he told you that he had been working out a whole lot more lately. The more of him that you felt, the more uncomfortable your southern region became.

Jonah felt it all—the heartbeat between your thighs, the wetness that seemed to be soaking through your pants, the subtle grinding of your body against his thigh, and how the member in his pants seemed to awaken at your movements. Suddenly Daniel’s words through the phone didn’t seem to make sense when they entered his brain that was currently a complete mess. He put his phone away for a moment to whisper into your ear, “Look at you, can’t even go a few minutes without wanting something, huh, baby?” His voice was husky and deep, exactly the way you loved it, and you almost came from the sound alone. He used his hand to help you rock harder against his thigh, urging you to speed up which you did willingly, finally able to relieve some of the pain from your core.

Your whimper was enough to answer his question. He kissed the tip of your nose. “Ride my thigh, sweetheart,” he ordered, brushing a thumb over your lips. “But be a good girl for me and be as quiet as you can, okay?”

You nodded obediently and he returned to his phone call like nothing ever happened. You bit your bottom lip forcefully in order to prevent moans after moans from escaping as you, the friction between your clit and his thigh putting your mind in a blissful daze. “Fuck…” you breathed near his ear, the sound taking him by surprise making him stop talking mid-sentence, hazel eyes glancing to the side to see your half-lidded eyes and lip that was colored in a shade of bright red from sinking your teeth into it too hard, completely forgetting what he was planning to say to his friend.

“Jonah?” Daniel’s voice sounded, snapping Jonah back to his senses.

“Yes? wait a moment bro, got something to settle first, be right back,” he said, placing his phone on the armrest of the couch to focus on you. “Feels good baby?”

“Uh huh,” you said, not expecting him to bounce his knee in a steady rhythm afterwards with so much vigor that you instinctively moved your hands to his shoulders to steady yourself, rolling your hips as you ground yourself down on him hungrily. Feeling your greedy little hole clamping down around nothing as you felt your climax nearing.

“What about now?” he drawled, chuckling darkly when you started to let all sorts of whimpers and mewls fall from your lips. “Tell me, pretty little slut, how good I’m making you feel,” he lifted a hand up to your face to trace your jaw tenderly. Once. Then twice. Then replacing his touch with his lips.

“So fucking amazing, Jo,” you could barely get the words out as you unabashedly ground yourself down against him, eyes rolling to the back of your head at the overwhelming sensation, gasping in surprise when his palm moved to spank your ass. The movement made you grind against his firm thigh perfectly as you forgot his earlier warning to stay quiet and cried out.

“Shh, keep it down, baby,” he coaxed, his lips curving into a smirk as he beheld your desperation to chase your high, each of your movements getting sloppier than the last. “He can still hear you, you know?”

Another whimper. “I...I’m close, Jo,” you managed to say before grabbing fistfuls of his shirt and burying your face in the crook of his neck, though the movement of your hips remained unfaltered.

He tilted his head a little to press a kiss into your hair. “Cum for me all over my thigh, sweetheart.”

Jonah’s husky voice was the catalyst you needed to send you hurtling over the edge, feeling that coil inside you snap as your orgasm washed over you, his name spilling from your lips in a loud cry, your toes curling as you were completely engulfed in ecstasy. His grasp on your waist remained strong as he continued bouncing his knee, slightly slower than before, not allowing you to move back as he kept grinding your cunt against him, letting you ride out your high. “Shh, you’re getting too loud, baby,” he placed a finger on your lips when you continued moaning his name repeatedly as your puffy clit got overstimulated, although he absolutely loved the way his name rolled off your tongue like a prayer. He felt a certain something straining harder against his designer jeans, yearning to break free.

“Look at what a mess you made because you couldn’t wait for me to finish my phone call,” he tisked disapprovingly, his gaze dropping to his thigh, his hooded hazel eyes looking between your bodies at the darkened wet stain you had left against said jeans with glee, even more when he saw your pants that were utterly soaked with your release. He stopped bouncing his knee then, earning a dissatisfied whine from you. “Enough of thigh riding, sweetheart, your pants are ruined,” he grabbed his phone and released his grasps on you before whispering, “Now turn around. Let me help you get them off you.”

You did as he told, your back now leaning against his chest as he pushed your pants down, followed by your panties and you kicked off both of the garments when they pooled at your knees. He raised his phone towards his ear as his other hand glided over the swell of your hips to your front, his knuckles brushing over your core gently. He started drawing slow circles over your clit with the pads of his fingers, causing you to arch your back into him more.

“Nah, it’s nothing serious. Wes just broke another glass again, that’s all,” he lied to his best friend, the pace of his fingers increasing as he put more pressure on your clit, making you a squirming mess in his arm. Unable to keep you steady with only one arm around you, he put his phone on speaker mode and placed it back onto the armrest before sliding the now free arm around your waist.

“You sure? Because I heard...umm...something and it sounds nothing like shattering glass,” Daniel stated, but Jonah remained pretty unfazed unlike you whose breath caught in your throat immediately, dreading the possibility of getting caught. However, all your worries were immediately forgotten when he dragged a finger ever so gently up your glistening folds that were already slick with your juices. You instinctively rolled your hips against his finger, yearning for as much friction as he could offer.

“Then you must’ve heard wrong. Now, where were we?” Jonah said nonchalantly before sliding a finger into you and your jaw fell slack as you moaned at the sudden intrusion. He pumped his finger slowly to stretch you out but you weren’t content with it. You wanted more so you let your hand travel to your bundle of nerves but before you could do anything, he grabbed your wrist with his free hand. Words didn’t need to be conveyed between the both of you for you to get his message just from the look he gave you that clearly said he didn’t want you to interfere.

“Okay, so I thought of this melody…” you tuned them out, solely focusing on the overwhelming pleasure that he gave you with nothing more than a finger and before you knew it, you could feel your walls clenching harder around it that continued to thrust in and out of you non-stop as he maintained a casual conversation with his best friend.

“Nngh, Jonah,” you whined, “Faster, faster, gosh.”

“Quiet,” he whispered sternly between his sentences just as he slipped another finger into you and you bit his neck on instinct to stifle your moans, making him groan right in the middle of their conversation.

“What the actual fuck was that?!” Daniel exclaimed in horror.

“Nothing,” he shot you a glare but your eyes were screwed shut with pleasure so you couldn’t see it. “But I really really have to go now, bro, I’m so sorry.”

“Wait a minute,” Daniel said just as Jonah’s finger hovered inches above the red end-call button. “Is y/n there with you? Like right next to you?”

“Yeah, so?”

“Please don’t tell me you guys were...umm...doing it while you were talking to me because the weird sounds kinda sound like,” an obvious gulp. “Her.”

“Daniel what is wrong with you today? First you hear weird noises then now you’re trying to accuse me and my girl for having sex while I’m on the phone with you? Well lemme tell you something, Daniel,” Jonah’s fingers thrusted into you quicker, matching the swift pace of his thumb that was furiously rubbing your clit, making you a writhing mess on his lap. Soft moans left your lips since you were unable to compress all of the sounds that threatened to escape.

“Y/N and I would never,” He slammed his fingers knuckles deep into you. “Ever,” His fingers curled inside you and you sucked in a shaky breath. “Do something like that,” He started doing patting motions, hitting all the right places, almost making you scream as your eyes rolled to the back of your head in ecstasy, unable to focus on anything else save for the overwhelming pleasure that he gave you. “Right, love?”

He has to be joking. He can’t seriously expect you to—

“Open your mouth and talk, baby,” Jonah’s voice was soft but authoritative when he spoke into your ear, a smirk present on his face. He knew that it was nearly impossible for you to do anything, especially talking, when you were so close to your climax but all in all, he was still someone who loved testing and pushing you past your limits.

“Yes...I...we,” you stuttered as you whimpered softly after each word, his fingers never stopped working their magic inside you. He placed kisses all the way up to your ear from your shoulders before starting to nibble your earlobe. You couldn’t search for the right words to say, let alone speak without giving away the fact that you and Jonah were indeed doing it while having his conversation with Daniel. “We are not doing anything,” you got all your words out in one breath, a little too fast for them to sound extremely convincing but still good enough for Jonah to give you an approving hum.

“Good girl,” Jonah cooed, his voice alone making your entire body tingle with pleasure. “Now end the call,” he attached his lips onto the sensitive spot under your ear, nibbling and sucking it softly, pushing another moan out of you.

“But—”

“No ‘but’s, baby,” a kiss on your shoulder again. “You don’t want me to not let you cum, do you?”

You couldn’t find the energy in you to argue with him, not when release was threatening to spill out of you.

“Bye, Daniel,” you said breathlessly.

“Just so you know, I still don’t believe that—”

“I said bye, Daniel,” you cut Daniel off before he could continue rambling about not trusting your words, reaching over to Jonah’s phone to end the call.

Jonah smiled when the screen of his phone turned black but his following words were nowhere near happy.

“Such a good girl, aren’t you? Always so obedient when you want me to give you what you want,” he snarled. “But what about just now, hmm? You were so loud, so impatient, always wanting more than what I gave.”

“So do you think you deserve to cum, dear?”

“Sorry, it just felt too good,” you whimpered, already on the verge of tears, when you felt the knot in your stomach tightening. “I won’t behave like this again, Jo so please—“

He pressed his lips onto yours, cutting your pleas off with a brief kiss. “Alright, I’ll let you off the hook just this once. Let it all out now, baby.”

And just like that, you released for the second time all over his thigh and he took his fingers out of you and licked them clean, groaning at how wonderful you tasted. “Fuck, you taste so good. It's totally worth ruining my jeans for this.”

“But I wanna taste yours too,” you whined and he smirked.

“Hmm,” he laid you down on the couch and crawled over you, a hand already at the zipper of his pants to pull it down. “Think you’re still able to take my dick?”

“Always,” you yanked him closer by the front of his shirt, wanting to bring his lips to yours but before your lips even touched, a series of meows sounded suddenly.

Both of you turned towards the source of the sound simultaneously to find Wes standing at the corner of the living room, staring at you both intently with his wide, curious cat eyes.

“You know what? Maybe we should do this elsewhere,” you gave a suggestion with an uncomfortable grimace.

He zipped his pants before moving back into a sitting position, which you mirrored. He patted his lap and you went to sit on it right away. “Or,” a teasing grin was plastered on his face as he wiggled his eyebrows playfully at you. “We could ask Wes to join in too.”

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT YOU PSYCHOTIC PERVERT!” you screamed in disgust and hit him with the couch pillow you grabbed from beside you.

taglist: @chilling-seavey @neralondon @mia-marais @randomlimelightxxx @hopinglimelight @kvd963 @cutiebandlover202 @savspersonalproperty @slowdownatthelotusinn @angelzacharyy @freakshows199 @my-fangirling-outlet

[pokemonispain]

Overworked-Diluc & Kaeya

Summary:  In which shortly following the StormTerror incident in Mondstadt, Kaeya ends up nearly overworking himself to the point of collapse.

__________________________________________________________________

Kaeya was not exactly someone who got sick easily. Although he did do his best to take care of himself when he occasionally wound up sick. It didn't exactly help that he had a tendency to throw himself into his work even when he should probably be resting.

While he did rely on the other knights and his informants there were just some things he found easier to handle on his own. Or rather that he only trusted himself to do.

Which explained why he was doing his usual patrols around Mondstadt so late at night, despite the fact that his head was killing him, his stomach was churning and he felt as though he were burning from the inside out despite the normally cool and crisp night air.

He’d woken up feeling off a day or two ago, and while he had taken medicine, whenever his stomach didn't attempt to immediately reject anything he tried to put in it, he had not been getting the rest his body so desperately wanted.

It was a few days after the end of the storm terror incident and Aether, the mysterious Traveler, having appeared in Mondstadt seemingly out of nowhere to save the day.

Kaeya of course was admittedly suspicious of the entire situation, but considering no one seemed to know where Aether had come from including the young man himself, there was little Kaeya could do except sit back and observe.

But that in combination with dealing with the remnants of the Abyss order still left in Mondstadt’s region left him little time to do anything else besides work.

In the past day or two, he’d gotten a total of five hours of sleep all together, and that in combination with his lack of appetite due to being sick left Kaeya feeling like absolute shit in every sense of the word.

He paused for a moment, reaching out to steady himself when he stumbled slightly, the ground seemingly swaying nauseatingly before his eye, and his stomach gives a low growl whether from the nausea or hunger he didn't know at the moment. Either way, he doesn't like it.

Running a hand through his hair Kaeya takes a deep breath, closing his eye. A minute, he just needed a minute or two to rest.

He opens his eyes glancing around for one of the many wooden benches Mondstadt had around town, glaring at the ground when he sees none.

That when he notices something, he’s close to Angel’s share. He hadn’t exactly planned on coming this way, in fact, he hadn't been really paying attention at all as he walked around, the fever-induced haze blanketing his mind and the throbbing headache making it for him to focus his thoughts.

Taking a deep breath, Kaeya pushes away from the wall he’d been leaning on and begins making his way towards Angel share.

~~~

It's late at night, and Diluc is in the middle of wiping down the bar counter with just a few more things to do before he could close down the bar for the night and head home.

“We’re closed for tonight, ” he said, not glancing up when he heard the front door of Angel's share open.

Getting no answer though he looks up from his task, scowling when he notices a familiar blue and white uniform. “We’re closed, ” Diluc repeated again, giving a sigh.

Kaeya merely gives a soft hum as he sits down at the bar counter and Diluc looks at him, ready to tell him to just leave since he really was not in the mood to deal with him right now but pauses, simply staring at Kaeya with wide eyes.

Kaeya does not look good, he’s incredibly pale at the moment, his skin boarding almost on an ashen gray. The only color he does have in his face is the feverish blush on his cheeks. His eye is glazed over and glassy, any hint of the usual sharpness his blue eye held was currently nowhere in sight.

He was sweating heavily, his breathing ragged as if he’d run the entire way here instead of calmly walked in.

“Sorry, I need a moment, ” Kaeya told him softly, closing his eye.

And Diluc’s frowned deepened, there had been no hint of Kaeya’s usual teasing tone. If Diluc hadn't been worried before he definitely was now.

Setting the rag he’d been cleaning with aside Diluc walks around the counter, but Kaeya doesn't look up at him, merely sitting there quietly with his head in his hands.

“Kaeya?” He said, laying a hand on his shoulder.

But Kaeya doesn't answer him, merely giving a soft barely audible groan, and Diluc can feel his body trembling slightly beneath his hand.

There's something else Diluc feels as well, heat practically radiating off of Kaeya’s skin.

“You’re sick…” Diluc whispered, sounding shocked. It comes out sounding more like a question than a statement.

Kaeya slowly nodded, finally looking up slightly. “I took some medicine earlier this morning, ” he mumbled.

Diluc scowled, crossing his arms. “Did you rest, ” he asked despite already knowing the answer.

When Kaeya was sick he only tended to give in and just admit he was whenever the illness was bad and wouldn’t leave him alone. Kaeya volunteering any information about his condition instead of fighting Diluc tooth and nail like usual meant that he was feeling truly awful.

Kaeya frowned. “Five hours...three yesterday and two today, was busy taking care of some wandering Abyss Mages nearby, ” he told Diluc after a moment struggling to recall just what he’d been doing most of the day.

If Kaeya had the energy to at the moment he would've laughed, archons he was in worse shape than he’d thought.

Diluc is quiet for a moment merely watching Kaeya sway in place. “Did you eat anything today?”

Diluc knew that Kaeya had a tendency not to eat much if anything when he was sick. Sometimes it was because he just legitimately did not have an appetite and others it was because just the thought of food made him feel sick.

Kaeya closes his eye, resting a trembling hand on his stomach when it gave a soft gurgling noise and he swallowed thickly looking slightly green at the mention of food.

So the latter then, Diluc realized with a sigh.

“I did eat breakfast, some toasted bread, ” Kaeya said, resting his head in his hands again.

He just wanted to just sleep or pass out whichever one got him out of this hell the fastest. He’d quickly forgotten why he’d come into Angel’s share this late at night in the first place, although he couldn't help but feel relieved that Diluc was here tonight.

Even if the normally comforting lights of the tavern felt far too bright for his aching eye and throbbing head.

“I’ll fix you something light to eat, ” Diluc sighed as he returned to his spot behind the bar counter. Normally Diluc would've given Kaeya a choice in the matter, but he also knew, since they’d been kids, that the best way to get Kaeya to eat when he felt sick was to just give him something and not give him a choice.

Kaeya groaned softly, swallowing hard when he felt bile burning at the back of his throat, his stomach practically flipping inside of him. “I’ll try...don’t know how much I can manage though…” he muttered.

“It’s radish veggie soup so it should be alright. Once you eat something you should feel a bit better, ” Diluc told him, giving him a brief glance.

Kaeya doesn't answer though, his head is down, resting on his arms he has folded on the countertop seemingly having drifted off to sleep. Although his still ragged breathing tells Diluc otherwise.

Even though Kaeya felt way too hot at the moment, as though he was burning from the inside out, his stomach was churning like a whirlpool, his head was pounding and his joints were aching, closing his eye and just turning his brain off for a moment seemed to help improve his condition a bit.

Which is honestly no surprise considering he’s basically been running on sheer willpower all this time.

Truthfully if he didn't feel so horrible Kaeya might’ve been able to drift off to sleep, but he does so he can’t.

His eye opens and he lifts his head when he eventually hears the soft thump of something being placed on the counter in front of him.

It's the soup Diluc said he was making for him, it should be light enough for him to eat but simply looking at the food is enough to make him feel dizzyingly nauseous.

“At least try a little bit. Please?” Diluc sighed seeing the look on Kaeya’s face.

A small tired smile crawls across Kaeya’s face as he absentmindedly rubs his churning stomach with one hand.  “Archons...how horrible do I look if you're actually using the word please, ” he muttered, blinking slowly.

Diluc closes his eyes for a moment, sighing. If Kaeya was teasing him, then the man must be feeling a little bit better but Diluc was still worried. “I’m not going to answer that. Eat. You need it, ” he told him, holding out the spoon for Kaeya to take.

With a soft sigh Kaeya takes the spoon from him, he knew Diluc was technically right as much as he didn't want to admit it. Kaeya stares down at the soup, taking a deep breath as he steels himself bringing a spoonful of it up to his mouth.

He pauses for a moment, his eye closed as he does his best to force back his nausea, his stomach hitching slightly.

Diluc bites his lip as he watches Kaeya. He really hoped that he could manage to eat the food cause if not then Diluc may just have to go get Barbara or Sucrose.

When Kaeya practically shoves the spoon in his mouth Diluc doesn't bother holding back a sigh of relief when Kaeya’s stomach doesn't immediately reject it, despite the soft gurgling noise it makes.

“When did you start feeling sick?” Diluc asked after a moment or two.

Kaeya pauses briefly, a frown appearing on his face. “A day or two ago, ” he sighed softly.

He glances down at the food, scowling when the scent of the lightly salted broth makes his stomach churn, the small amount of soup he’d managed to eat sloshing in his stomach.

He wants to stop honestly but the look Diluc gives him, makes him keep going.

Kaeya manages to finish the food and sets the spoon aside as he just sits there for a moment, a scowl on his face. It seems it was a lie that he’d feel a lot better when he’d eaten something, if anything he felt worse his stomach was now killing him and his nausea had skyrocketed.

“Feel better?”  Diluc asked, staring at Kaeya.

While the other man had a bit more clarity in his eyes he still appeared dazed, Kaeya doesn’t answer Diluc though merely staring at the countertop, his eye narrow as he absentmindedly rubs at his stomach.

“I….” Kaeya begins, but stops, falling quiet once more, his lips pressed into a thin line.

He can feel his stomach churning beneath his hand, a sharp pain stabbing him in the stomach as the soup he’d forced down sloshed inside. Kaeya closes his eye, his face in his hands giving a soft groan as he swallows hard trying to force down the wave of bile burning at the back of his throat.

Great, this is just great, he thinks, now having to deal with an aching stomach on top of everything else. He swallows again trying to clear away the salvia now steadily filling his mouth, he opens his eye but doesn’t lift his head, pretty sure that any movement at the moment was just a bad idea.

He needed to keep it down, one because he was exhausted and just wanted a moment without his body trying to kill him, and two because he’s pretty sure that if he can’t Diluc will drag him off to the cathedral to have Barbara look at him.

“Kaeya?” Diluc said when the man didn’t answer him. He felt a sharp spike of concern when Kaeya groaned again and slowly raised his head.

Kaeya looks absolutely sick and miserable, his skin strongly tinged with green. Kaeya closes his eye swallowing hard.

“Fuck,” he whispered, his voice breaking on the word, his breath hitching.

Diluc grimaces before reaching out, intending to try and comfort him but in the next moment, he jumps, startled when Kaeya’s body jolts with a loud burp, and in the next second he retches bringing up a watery wave of vomit.

The barely digested soup splashes right back into the bowl Kaeya still has in front of him, the broth now tinged a murky orange from the bile it’d been mixed with looking just about the same as it had when Kaeya had eaten it.

Slightly stunned Diluc merely stands there watching for a moment, although he’s moving quickly practically running around the counter when Kaeya lurches forward with another retch that has another, smaller wave of bile and soup splashing into the bowl, the sickening slurry sloshing as it grows.

“Okay, okay, shit just try to get it up,” Diluc said as he gathered Kaeya’s hair up with one hand, his other going to his back, rubbing in small circles as Kaeya burps and retches up another wave.

Admittedly, Diluc can’t help but feel guilty considering he did make Kaeya eat, but had legitimately thought Kaeya would be able to handle it. Obviously, he’d been wrong.

Kaeya groaned, panting as he swallows, threads of drool hanging from his mouth and tears in his eyes. He takes a deep shuddering breath, soft hiccups still leaving his mouth.

“Oh, oh archons,” he whispered. “That...was awful.”

Diluc grimaces biting his lip, Kaeya still looks miserable although seemingly more drained and exhausted. And despite his lucidity, Kaeya’s fever is still present.

“Would you like some water?” Diluc eventually manages to ask.

Kaeya shook his head as he gagged, bringing up a trickle of bile that adds to the slurry in the bowl in front of him. “No…” Kaeya sighed softly. “I need to go home, try to sleep this off,” he mumbled, not thrilled by that idea.

His head felt like it was being split open, the nagging pain that’d been there early only intensified by his vomiting episode. His stomach is sore and still churning despite having wrung out all its contents.

Without waiting for Diluc to say anything Kaeya gets to his feet, closing his eye when the world seemed to sway and he stumbled, feeling Diluc grab his arm to keep him upright.

Diluc gives a soft hiss as he wraps an arm around Kaeya’s waist just in case his legs gave out beneath him. And considering Kaeya had nearly collapsed to the floor seconds ago, Diluc was right to be worried.

“You need to rest, ” Diluc muttered with a scowl.

Kaeya takes a deep breath as he opens his eye. “I know, that's why I'm going home.”

Diluc sighed. “You can barely stand up, how do you expect to get there.”

Kaeya shrugged. “Walking I guess, not that far anyway, ” he mumbled. Truthfully the thought of moving anywhere let alone walking made the ache in his joints grow.

Kaeya tries to walk, or rather stagger, towards the door but Diluc doesn't release him merely holding him gently in place. “Kaeya, I’m not letting you walk home in this state. You can sleep upstairs. There’s a spare bed in the attic, ” Diluc told him.

Diluc had it placed up there in the first place whenever he was too tired to return to the Winery, he also frequently used it to sleep in after doing his usual nightly patrol around Mondstadt.

Kaeya frowned, blinking slowly. “Oh right, there is a bed up there, ” he muttered more to himself than Diluc.

If Kaeya had been feeling fine, instead of the miserable mess he currently was, Diluc might’ve asked him how he’d already known about the bed beforehand. Instead, he makes a mental note to ask him later as he carefully begins leading Kaeya upstairs.

Kaeya leans heavily on him, his ragged shuddering breaths fanning across Diluc’s neck.

Diluc would put Kaeya in bed then go get either Barbara or Sucrose, he’d get Albedo if he knew where on Dragonspine the alchemist had gone off to but he didn't.

Kaeya practically collapses face-first on the bed, a loud sigh of relief leaving him. He rolls over slightly, fingers fumbling as he removes his boots after they’re off Kaeya sets about removing some of the more constricting and uncomfortable pieces of his uniform.

Diluc stands to the side occasionally helping Kaeya when it seems like he’s having a bit of trouble with the numerous clasps and buckles.

“How did you even manage to get all this on in your condition,” Diluc asked genuinely curious, knowing firsthand how complicated it could be to put on the knight Captain uniform.

“Muscle memory and determination,” Kaeya mumbled, his voice muffled due to the fact he had his face buried in one of the pillows.

“I’m going to go see if I can get Barbara for you and if she’s not available then Sucrose,” Diluc told him, getting ready to go back downstairs.

“Wait,” Kaeya said, raising his head to look at Diluc. He’d removed his eyepatch but his right eye remained closed.

“What is it?” Diluc asked, pausing at the stairs as he looked back at Kaeya.

Kaeya sighs, closing his eye as he goes quiet for a moment. Then he opens it looking slightly embarrassed. “Do...would you mind staying with me for a little bit?”

Diluc frowns merely blinking for a moment or two. It's not an odd request considering Kaeya used to ask that of him whenever he got sick when they were kids, but it is one Diluc hasn’t heard for a while even nowadays so it's admittedly a bit surprising.

He smiles slightly and Kaeya gives a soft huff. “You know what forget I said anything, ” he muttered looking even more embarrassed. He rolls over in bed so that he’s facing the wall, his face feeling like it's burning and not just from the fever.

“I’ll stay, at least until you fall asleep, ” Diluc told him softly as he sat down on the edge of the bed.

Kaeya is quiet as Diluc gently runs his fingers through the long blue strands. A peaceful, almost soothing silence falling between the two of them.

[renzu-valra]

Prompt #26: Intrusion

Character: René Badeaux  ♦  Region: Ishgard  ♦  Time: Present Hosted by: @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast​ Warnings: blood, corpse, injury

In the dead of night, death lurked these halls. Souls which should have been taken by the lifestream instead lingered here and roamed in transient freedom. It was not often his responsibility to tend to their needs, as they merely wished for frivolous things that needn’t his attention. Yet on certain nights, much like this one…he forfeited sleep so that he might secure the perimeter. To ensure that the most dangerous of these waking spirits were sufficiently sealed and could not escape.

And once he was finished checking each room, he made his way back upstairs and into the darkness of the manor with only a held candlewick to light his way. Yet even despite knowing these walls well, he had to keep his wits about him at all times. To listen carefully with all his senses for any trace of movement. Ever since that night…these corridors became even more lethal to traverse after sunset. His lord’s most precious pet was oft found wandering these parts of the estate. A slithering serpent of tremendous size…now uninhibited through death, its hunger could no longer be tempered through monthly feedings. She was always ready to feast.

René had no intention to remain out and about longer than need be. He would retire to his room until morning.

However, it would seem the fates had another plan in store for tonight. As he walked through the long halls, he came across an open window. He had first noticed something was amiss when he felt the temperature drop suddenly. Then he saw one of the dark hanging curtains billowing inwards—letting inside the quiet snowstorm…and an unkindly fellow as well, by the looks of it. There were wet stains on the carpet unlike the melting’s of the occasional trickle of snowy debris. They were more like the size of thick footprints.

Intruders were less common since the ongoing construction of the Firmament, yet…he had to question the stranger’s purpose for being here. Was it simply to find shelter for the night, or had they come in hopes of leaving with treasure? Or…

The direction the trail of footprints seemed to be heading led him to believe otherwise.

Kneeling down to get a better look at the wet stains, he noticed something else off. There was a faint stumble to them as well. Not unlike someone who was riddled with booze or other inebriating drugs. Yet…if that was truly the case, then he likely would’ve found their body out in the yard come morning as they like would’ve slipped on ice the way up. This wasn’t mere intoxication. Or rather, it was…but of an uncommon sort.

Deciding to continue down the path which led to the guest rooms, he kept a hand on the wall as he slowly followed the now drying trail. He was listening for any sign of vibration or loud stumble—aught at all that would give him indication of how close he was to finding this wayward intruder. And yet he heard nothing. Not the smallest of sounds save for his own footsteps.

That was, until he stood near the door of the only inhabited guest room. However, the sounds were far too obscure to make out simply from listening. It sounded almost as if…someone was mixing around a pot of liquid gelatin.

It would…be unbecoming of him to simply turn around and leave. Not when he knew someone had stolen about the property and was now inside the bedchambers of one of his lord’s guests. Even…if it caused his heart to quake in raw trepidation. He had never been able to forget that night. Not truly. No matter how desperately he wished it sealed within the deepest confines of his breast, he could never forget what he had done.

Knocking the wood frame next to the slightly ajar door, he voiced in a quiet tone: “Forgive my intrusion…” Then, he pushed the door open enough for him to step through. The room was pitch black save for the immediate area he encompassed as it was brightened by candlelight. It was hardly enough to see too deeply into the room, yet he sensed a presence nearby. Laying on the floor…where the strange sound he heard was coming from.

With each step, he felt his chest blacken with grime. This was wrong—the energy of this room felt grave and it weighed down on him with each passing breath. With each step forward, he felt as if he was lowering himself into a dark pit…and at the bottom would lay a coffin intended for him. He could still turn back, before he reached the end. Yet instead of pulling away, he continued onwards. Extending out his arm which held the candlewick. Wanting to feel the wood enclosure of his would be tomb.

And what he saw lying in wait for him at the bottom of the hole was a man. The faint light which but barely revealed his face told René only a fraction of the story which had just taken place here. From Nobushige’s lips and down his throat…staining his pure white night robes…was a thick mess of blood.  That sight alone should’ve had him questioning the reason as to why—yet his mind remained blank. He…instead, made to kneel down before him. His eyes calmly watching the dull, emptied eyes of the Raen. Blue, lusterless eyes which stared down into nothingness.

Nothingness that was in fact a fresh corpse of a man. His chest torn apart and bleeding out onto the floor. Their would-be intruder, as it seemed…

Nobushige knew that he was here, and yet…made no effort to respond. Which was…perhaps polite, given the circumstances. It allowed René a moment to process what he was to do next.

The man laying beneath them was well-built. They certainly weren’t disadvantaged—his musculature appeared at a glance well-built and trained. His clothing besides were richly tailored and unlike the tattered attire of those inhabiting the Brume. For what reason would he trespass another’s home? What reason indeed…

Bringing his eyes over to meet with Nobushige’s hand which laid on the man’s chest, he noticed an unusual abundance of red running down his arm. Setting down his held candlewick on the ground, he languorously reached out for the Raen’s hand. Caressing it tenderly in his gloved palms and lifting it slightly so that he might check for any injuries. “…Are you hurt?”

He felt as if his mind was lost in a false stupor he had yet to recover from. In his right mind, he would seek to rationalize the scene before him in quick pace. Yet at this point in time, he could not process the best course of action. He was unable to judge the man sitting before him in any capacity. Then he felt his heart soften. Nobushige’s eyes met with his and he smiled kindly…in a way that was neither twisted nor assuming. It told René all that he needed to know. That he was safe. Unharmed…and most of all, untarnished by this sinful act. That his soul was yet clean and not even a minuscule touch of dirt had sullied it.

That alone gladdened him. As for why, he could not say.

On his lips, that selfsame smile given to him by the Raen was mirrored. Death sat amongst them in this room, however he had never felt calmer than in this very moment. “Can you stand?” Nobushige responded with a simple shake of his head, no. “Very well…”

Taking the candlewick back in his hand, he made his way over to the nightstand next to the bed. Using the small flame alight atop the wax, he lit a triple set of candles to illuminate the room once darkened by heavy sludge. Setting his own light down on the table as well, he then returned to Nobushige’s side so he might help him off the ground. “With me, now.” Placing his arms underneath the Raen’s shoulders, he began to lift the slender man up onto his feet. Then, moving his hands over to his side, René helped walk Nobushige over to the bed before sitting him down on the plush blanket. During that brief moment of closeness, he came to understand that the blood on the Raen’s clothes had not come solely from the invasive pest laying dead on the floor. Which was perhaps why he could not stand on his own.

Now in the light, he could see it more clearly. The hole which had ripped through the Raen’s silks and drove deep into the space under his left shoulder. If not for the knife he now noticed resting on the bed behind the Raen’s back, he would’ve doubted the plausibility of such a wound. It was far too wide to have been made by such a meager tool, and yet…if Nobushige hadn’t considered the injury—or assault itself—painful…what would’ve stopped his assailant from abusing the cut further?

In any case, it needed immediate treatment. Calling for the chirurgeon would take too long, and he already knew this room had been supplied with a medical kit. He would have to handle it himself.

And in a matter of seconds, René would have the kit placed on the bed by his side as he rolled up his sleeves and made to sanitize his hands. Peeling away the thin layer of clothes which concealed the Raen’s shoulder, he then started prepping his tools. Blood loss had kept the man from standing up on his own earlier, not the agony of such a wound. He realized that as he cleaned the gash and sub-sequentially made to stitch the hole closed. Nobushige did not flinch, nor make the smallest sound of discomfort. No, they remained in silence for the entire procedure. It was only after he had finished and closed the kit back up did he think to speak. Even then…he couldn’t quite will himself to break this quiet scene.

Instead, he wished to confirm something. A vague theory which came to him as he patched up the unwavering Raen and fought against the dim light to keep his focus. Before proving it though, he first made to wipe away the blood from the other man’s face. With a clean handkerchief he kept in his pocket, he gently rubbed the grime gone until all that was left was the delicate expression of someone who stared at him in gratuity.

He should be scared. This was entirely out of line for someone of his rank. The anxiety that should’ve swelled in his heart somehow never came to be—his heart instead turned soft when he understood from the start that the reason he did not question the grotesque scene he interrupted with upset was because he knew he was at peace. In the passionless eyes of the serene Raen, he felt his doubts quelled and resolve mended from the very second he walked into the room and saw him there on the ground.

It wasn’t the familiarity of violence which tamed him—rather…the unusual thinking that it was somehow beautiful and not a vile display of cruelty. That divine grace possessed this man and refined elegance alike. This wasn’t a room contaminated by rot and filth, but instead one rich with decency. Thus the hesitance which should have gripped him did not come.

Bringing his hand to the Raen’s scaled cheek, he leaned into the man and quietly kissed him once before pulling away and letting his hand sink. He was right. He had already been forgiven. Or perhaps…he had done nothing to which the Raen would think to give blame. Nobushige’s heart was unlike his—unlike any he had ever met. It could take on any measure of sin and yet still resonate pure white light. As if it hadn’t been touched at all…

The lack of response from him proved it. Nobushige’s desires were not of this plane. He stood above all the pitiful souls which flooded this world with their dirt. And yet, like a god…he would accept their impurities even so and forgive them their baseness.

Comforted by this ideal…René set about to clean up his mess. With the medical supplies now stored away again, the butler refastened his gloves onto his hands and dropped to his knees before the corpse which now began to stink. “I will dispose of the body and return to clean the blood promptly.” He said, making to lift the putrid thing into his arms and carry it off.

Half expecting to leave in silence, René paused when he heard the harmonious whisper of the Raen call out to him. “No…I am expecting another shortly. Someone…important to me. I would bid a moment of privacy.” Another…at this hour? He didn’t know what to expect, but it would be impolite of him to inquire further.

“It shall be as you request. By your leave…”

Making away with the body, he pondered his options of disposal. Only one would be appropriate…however…he questioned another possibility out of selfish want. To feed the abhorrent remains of the man to the creature which lurked through these halls and be rid of him entirely…in foolish desire he might once again chance upon such a precious scene.

The moment such a thought crossed his mind however, he wavered. What was becoming of him? Such ways of thinking were untoward of him, and standing alone in the darkness of the manor’s halls made him want to brush off this doubt quickly and leave it for another day.

[fanfoolishness]

Primary Directives (The Mandalorian)

(IG-11 discovers similarities between itself and the Mandalorian.  Mainly based on the episodes The Mandalorian, The Reckoning and the Redemption.  IG-11, Din Djarin, and Kuiil. 2020 words, canon-typical violence, Din!whump.)

***

It was a droid.  It had always known this, as surely as it had always known the ways of battle and weaponry, as it had known the ways to terminate over six hundred and forty-three organic species.  IG-11 knew what it had been manufactured for, and that knowledge was as certain as code and metal and electricity.

Still, though, there were surprises.  Such as the Mandalorian —

[Mandalorians: most commonly human but may hail of any race.  Exceptional warriors operating within a strict honor-based code, plated in beskar armor protecting vulnerable body systems: cardiovascular system, cranium, spine.  Beskar armor repels blaster fire, adjust angle of bolts fired to avoid secondary damage due to ricochet.  Weapons may include wrist-fired whipcords, small ballistics, flamethrowers, or missiles in addition to standard issue blaster pistols and rifles.  Kill points include jugular vein, brachial arteries, lungs —]

Despite this knowledge, IG-11 was not invulnerable.  The Mandalorian fired a blaster into IG-11’s central processing unit and all awareness ceased.

***

Systems rewired, reprogrammed, new knowledge, new directives.  Protect and nurse.  Defending became the new priority instead of attacking.  The work of the Ugnaught’s hands laid new tracts within its circuitry, paths that were worn deeper with the passage of time and every subsequent use. 

The old knowledge of vulnerabilities and weaknesses of organics melded with information on how to ease the suffering of these creatures.  There was also new information regarding the understanding of what suffering meant.  This knowledge was assimilated, and IG-11’s study of protection and nurturing began.  

It took time, as did all things worth knowing.  Fragments of prior memory were still accessible: it could still visualize clearly the manufacturer’s killing fields littered with the droids whose programming had not fully taken hold.  IG-11 had navigated those killing fields successfully, a ready and willing deliverer of death, and had emerged a formidable and fatal machine.  It did not mourn the units that did not succeed.  It knew only what it had been made for, and it knew that it would be successful.

Until it failed.  

The Mandalorian ended its previous existence and claimed the bounty for his own, and IG-11 was left for scrap.

Now IG-11 trained with the Ugnaught Kuiil on the muddy world of Arvala-7, and it found success in movements made for building, in carrying tea that nourished the Ugnaught, in protecting the small forms of life that skittered and scurried through the mudflats of their shared housing unit.  The old programming made a scaffold for the new, a web that built its way throughout IG-11’s surface awareness and sublevel routines, and it strove to fulfill its purpose as ever it had.

***

IG-11 stood over the fallen Kuiil.  It regarded the Ugnaught’s prone form, analyzing the absence of breath, the pallor of flesh, the stillness of form.  Kuiil and IG-11 had been united in their purpose to protect the Child, to defend, to nurse.  Now IG-11 stood alone, its sensors identifying molecules of smoke and burnt organic flesh carried on the harsh Nevarran wind.

It would fulfill its master’s work.  The death would not be without use.  IG-11’s purpose did not waver, and it broke into a run over the dried lava fields, leaving its master behind.

The Ugnaught’s hands had been steady and true. 

***

IG-11 succeeded, as its programming had assured it that it would.  The Child nestled against IG-11’s metallic form, letting out squeals the droid analyzed as filled with delight.  They traveled on a stolen 74-Z Imperial speeder bike as IG-11’s targeting software focused on stormtrooper after stormtrooper.

IG-11’s aim was steady and true.

***

IG-11 and the Child rejoined the Mandalorian and the humans, though the Mandalorian appeared to have been injured.  They hid from overwhelming numbers of Imperial troops as IG-11 monitored the situation for ways to protect the Child.

It did as the humans requested.  The male human requested assistance with ascertaining a route of escape as he imbibed alcohol to dull his senses.  IG-11 worked as instructed, even when the environment was temporarily compromised by the attack of a Flametrooper.  

[Imperial enemy.  Flamethrower does not project temperatures higher than 300 degrees, a level of heat that is tolerated by all IG units but is fatal to multiple organic species. Standard stormtrooper weaknesses apply.] 

Strangely, the threat was removed by the Child, a sentient creature IG-11 lacked all data for.  The Child weakened after mounting its defense.  It would still require protection.

The threat neutralized, the female human requested IG-11 bring the body of the dying Mandalorian to them.  IG-11 gave its assurance to the woman, then gave the Child to her.  She had no levels of inebriation, and protocol dictated that the Child be placed with a guardian most likely to assure its survival.  The man and woman fled the smoke-filled shelter with the weakened Child, descending into the sewer system.

IG-11 then turned its attention to the Mandalorian.

It watched the Mandalorian’s breathing.  His chest rose and fell, the breath strained, labored, then absent.  Breath, breath, apnea.  The cycle repeated.  This abnormal pattern of respiration suggested a severe head injury.  Perhaps that was why the Mandalorian had so resisted the female human’s offers to render aid.  

Instructions of kill points and nursing directives, which intertwined at countless points, were accessed.  [Brain trauma: results in altered consciousness, delirium, obtundation.  May be fatal.]

“Do it,” rasped the Mandalorian.

“Do what?” IG-11 asked.  It could not comply with the Mandalorian’s orders if the directive was unknown.

“Just get it over with,” the Mandalorian said.  

Analysis was performed.  [Fluctuating timbre of the voice.  Abnormal breathing pattern persists.  Severe pain is present.]

“I’d rather you kill me than some Imp,” the Mandalorian continued.  IG-11 noted trembling in the body, particularly the hands.  Ah.  Perhaps the Mandalorian expected revenge for the previous shot fired into IG-11’s central processing unit, and the obliteration of its old directives.  Such a thought was foolish, but then again, the Mandalorian had been injured and could be trapped in aberrant thinking patterns.

“I told you, I am no longer a hunter,” stated IG-11.  It attempted to modulate its voice to be perceived as more friendly and less threatening.  “I am a nurse droid.”

“IGs are all hunters,” said the Mandalorian stubbornly.

“Not this one,” IG-11 corrected.  “I was reprogrammed.  I need to remove your helmet if I am to save you.”  The injury could not be successfully evaluated or repaired without doing so.

IG-11 reached to remove the Mandalorian’s helmet, and instinctively the Mandalorian raised a blaster in his shaking hand.

“Try it and I’ll kill you,” the Mandalorian threatened, his chest heaving.  

IG-11 regarded the Mandalorian in puzzlement.  All prior programming had suggested that an injured creature would do anything to accept aid.  It paused.

“It is… forbidden,” the Mandalorian gasped, desperation tingeing his voice.  “No living thing has seen me without my helmet since I… I swore the Creed.”

IG-11 understood the issue, then.  It was a problem of programming.  The Mandalorian could not deny his prime directive any more readily than IG-11 could.  Perhaps there was a logical means of resolution.

“I am not a living thing,” said IG-11 gently.  It extended its arm to touch the helmet.  The blaster shook in the Mandalorian’s hand, but did not fire.  IG-11 lifted the helmet, breaking its seal, and removed it from the head of the Mandalorian.

The Mandalorian was human, as IG-11 had expected from the sound of his voice and the patterns of movement displayed by his body in battle.  The droid experienced no emotion at the sight of the man’s face, but it studied it so as to better understand the extent of the injuries.  

Blood trickled from the left nostril into the man’s patchy facial hair.  A laceration arced across the bridge of the nose.  Anisocoria was visible in the man’s brown eyes, a negative prognostic indicator.  One that, in his previous programming, would have been a sign of impending success, especially when combined with the quantity of blood and sweat matting the man’s hair.  Yet IG-11 felt no sense of completion at the man’s injured state.  Death was no longer its objective.

Yet death threatened all the same.  The threat was underscored by the frantic hyperventilation that had begun with the removal of the helmet, though the droid was uncertain if this was due to physical stimuli or due to emotional agitation.  It ran a standard analysis on the Mandalorian’s expressions to determine the answer.

[Fear is detected in the shifts of the eyebrows and widening of the palpebral fissures.  Distress and anxiety are exhibited in the frozen gaze and half-open mouth, a common response to threat in this species. Pain is seen in persistent shivering and recoiling.]

IG-11 activated the bacta unit the Ugnaught had installed on its arm, propelling a standard dose of 2.8mg/m2 onto the injured region.  The Mandalorian stared at the droid, gaze still frozen, either confused or obtunded.  The blaster wavered in his hand, then slowly lowered.

“This is a bacta spray.  It will heal you in a matter of hours,” said IG-11.  It attempted a joke; the jokes had always worked on the Ugnaught.  “You have damaged your central processing unit.”  Surely the Mandalorian would see the humor in the reversal of their situations.

The Mandalorian stared dazedly, eyes struggling to focus as the bacta spray took hold.  The lines that creased his face, indicating pain, began to ease slightly.  He raised his eyebrows, mouth dropping further open.  “You mean my brain?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

“That was a joke,” said IG-11 warmly.  “It is meant to put you at ease.”

The Mandalorian attempted a noise that with further analysis IG-11 determined to be a laugh.

“You are beginning to feel a reduction in pain and impairment,” said IG-11.  “You are recognizing humor.”

The Mandalorian grimaced.  “If you say so,” he said, closing his eyes.  His mouth made a thin, hard line, but his breathing eased, beginning to settle into a pattern more consistent with normal health.  He breathed deeply, but then coughed, a loud rattling sound caused by the smoke.  Perhaps the Mandalorian’s helmet contained filters that would reduce the effects of smoke inhalation.

As IG-11 identified the problem, it felt the Mandalorian’s hand brush against its arm.  “Please,” the man muttered.  “My helmet -- You did what you needed, right?  I -- I need it -- the Imps are still out there --”

“Of course,” said IG-11.  Swiftly it raised its arm, carefully lowering the helmet back over the man’s head and face.  The Mandalorian reached up clumsily with both hands, fingertips slipping and scrabbling on the smooth beskar as he tried to pull the helmet down.  IG-11 aided him, guiding the helmet over his face until it felt the click of the seal reconnecting.  

“Thank you,” the Mandalorian exhaled, his breathing pattern finally reverting to normal.

“Can you stand?” IG-11 queried.  “The Imperial forces will likely investigate this area soon.  The bacta should continue to work as more time elapses.”

The man gave a weak nod.  “I think I can stand.”  He gripped IG-11’s hand and was pulled to his feet, where he wavered.  IG-11 draped the Mandalorian’s arm over its shoulders.

“I will assist you,” said IG-11.  

“Why?” the Mandalorian asked, leaning heavily against it as they carefully descended into the sewer after the others.  “Why are you helping me?”

“Because you are a protector, as I am,” said IG-11, leading the injured man through the darkened tunnels.  “Kuiil taught me to nurse and protect those that cannot defend themselves.  You have done the same for the Child, though you faced far superior forces and the threat of death.  Working together, we have a greater chance to fulfill our directive.  To protect the Child.  Do you understand?”

The man was quiet, and for a moment, IG-11 only heard the man’s breaths, sharp and full of effort as they made their way forward into the depths. At last the Mandalorian spoke, and when he did, the voice was heavy, shaded with many human emotions.

[Relief, surprise, gratitude.  Understanding.]

“This is the Way,” he said softly, and the words echoed, ringing, in the dark.

[pain-somnia]

A Rhythm That Guides

Rated: M Pairing: SasuSaku Disclaimer Day’s Notes: This fic is an exclusive on Patreon. At least Part 2 and the soon to be posted Part 3 are. I wanted to surprise everyone by releasing the first part if Biden won the election. A Rhythm That Guides is my Incubus AU which has art created by ceejss that you can find in this links: part 1 & part 2 Part 2 is only a sneak peek but you can find the High Res versions on her Patreon and also in PDFs on mine for special tiers.

I hope you enjoy my Incubus AU. Part 1 can be read as is with no continuation if you like...but there are more parts of it if you want to follow Sakura and Incubus!Sasuke’s journey.

Part One

It was happening again.

Lately, in his afternoon lecture class, he was getting a painful empty feeling in his lower stomach. He wasn’t eating as much as he used to during his lunch break so that could have explained the empty feeling.

But the throbbing between his legs was making Sasuke consider that perhaps, something else was going on.

The lecture would barely be halfway through the hour and Sasuke was finding himself adjusting himself in his seat to discreetly hide the rising tent in his pants.

Luckily he sat in the back row, but it was getting ridiculous how often it was happening.

Nearing twenty and in the beginning stages of adulthood, Sasuke realized—a little later than he should have considering how obvious it was—what exactly was to blame for his predicament.

Or more specifically, who.

Turning in his seat, Sasuke created more space between himself and the girl sitting just a single space down the row from him.

Sasuke had been affectionately labeled a late bloomer by his mother when his father had expressed concern in his disinterest in humans of either gender.

“He’s going to have to feed eventually,” his father had grunted, not at all pleased when his mother pointed out the decrease in his consumption of human food she regularly made to feed him and herself.

“Meal times will be lonely once I’m the only one that needs to eat,” she had grumbled, taking his half eaten dishes away.

Sasuke wished he took after his human lineage instead. It would have been so much easier if he didn’t have to worry about how he was going to be getting his meals for the rest of his life on top of all of his course work.

Sighing to himself, he turned a page in his notebook and continued taking notes. He would just have to suffer through the ache.

.

.

Bending over slightly, Sasuke picked up his sports drink from the bottom of the vending machine. He could do without the sweetness of it but he desperately needed to replenish his electrolytes.

As soon as his class had ended he fled the lecture hall and put as much distance as possible between him and the source of his problems. He knew he would start to hunger for a different energy source but it made it all the worse that temptation sat with only a space between them.

When the new semester had started, Sasuke did what he always did: he found the seat farthest away from other students. It wasn’t that he disliked other people. He just didn’t want any distractions.

Sasuke had always been like that, studious to a fault. At first it was to impress his father, but he learned later on that he quite enjoyed having his name at the top of the board with all of the exam scores. He moved away from trying to make his father pay more attention to him and worked to make himself happy.

And his road to happiness required a degree in engineering.

He knew he could have picked another school, one that catered more to those of his kind, but he didn’t want to go to just any school he wanted to go to the school. Even if that meant attending a school with a high human population.

I have so many regrets now, he thought as he took a big swig of his sports drink.

Sasuke wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and sighed. He was going to have to stop by a canteen for snacks if he was going to survive the rest of his day.

Eating usually sustained him for a few hours. It did nothing to fill the empty feeling in stomach but it allowed him to focus more on his lectures and labs until he could get home and try to sleep away the ache.

At least that’s what he hoped would happen. It was getting harder and harder to quell the hunger.

.

.

Sakura buried her nose into her textbook, pretending to be deep into her reading. Peering over the top she caught hold of heated dark brown eyes and quickly averted her gaze back to her textbook.

What did I do? She wailed inwardly and mentally flipped through the past few days searching for the offensive thing she may have done.

She couldn’t recall a single moment that she had even spoken to her classmate. Why was he so angry with her?

He probably figured me out…

Although she had never spoken to him, Sakura couldn’t help how smitten she had become over her classmate.

Uchiha Sasuke was a quiet boy. He didn’t seem to be a part of any of the circles and mostly kept to himself and his studies. If she didn’t see him in class, she would usually find him in the library or in the computer labs.

Sakura mostly made her own lunches and snuck them into her bag when she went to the library but when she visited the cafeteria she would find him grabbing some onigiri to go. She wondered how he kept going with their long days if he only ate rice and snacks. Humans couldn’t live off of sports drinks.

Sakura had been considering joining a study group but had been procrastinating. She had started to drift from a circle she had joined in a previous semester because of an extremely flirtatious upperclassman.

He was too touchy for her comfort but it was mostly the fact that he took any opportunity he could to complain about Uchiha Sasuke.

I guess an incubus wouldn’t like to share the attention.

Sakura shrugged off his comments and made sure there were at least two of her human upperclassmen in the same room. They were already used to the circle hopping incubi and succubi that used the campus as their hunting grounds and usually helped the underclassmen steer clear of them when they weren’t interested.

She guessed, in a way,  it made sense why the incubus upperclassman felt threatened.

Uchiha Sasuke was quiet and polite but mostly he was really attractive. And it helped that he didn’t flirt with anything that moved.

An herbivore maybe? Sakura had joked to herself once.

Well now her quiet classmate was glaring daggers at her and she had no idea why.

And yet he is still beautiful while angry. The gods are so unfair.

Sakura kept her head down and she waited for the professor to arrive. She hoped he got there soon.

.

.

It was irritating how dangerous a blush could be.

Haruno Sakura was fair in coloring with pale skin that colored easily.

Sasuke had wondered if she was a regional dryad when he first saw her hair and eye color. Humans had a tendency to dye their hair but her eyebrows and pale, untouched lashes proved her to be a natural rose gold haired person. There was a chance of her being descended from a cherry blossom tree nymph.

But she was obviously human—or at least too far down the family tree from any possible nymph—without him having to ask.

“Is this computer taken?” Sakura asked, pink dusting the apples of her cheeks.

Glittering sea foam green eyes cast to the side shyly and the biting of a plump lower lip was just a reminder that Haruno Sakura was an above average beauty, even when compared to incubus standards.

It would be difficult to find a tastier looking meal.

What the fuck?

Disregarding that passing thought, Sasuke looked around the room for an available computer station. Even if there wasn’t one she could still switch computers with someone that wasn’t working yet.

“You should find a different computer,” he snapped when she reached for the chair. He gripped the top of the seat’s back and attempted to stare her down.

Pale green eyes went wide and the trembling of her lower lip made Sasuke’s stomach drop. He instantly regretted his behavior despite the fact that he needed her as far away from him as possible. Sasuke opened his mouth to ease the situation when, with more strength than he had expected, Sakura yanked the chair out from under his hand.

“Unfortunately for the both of us, this is the only available computer station,” she said hotly, face flushing red. She sat down and propped her textbook up so that she could reference it for notes.

A side effect of his awakening incubus nature was a heightened awareness of the emotions of different creatures. Sasuke could feel her irritation and her anger rolling off of her in hot waves. Her anger did nothing to quell the ache in his lower abdomen. Instead, heat pooled lower and a familiar twitching had him exhaling deeply through his nose.

“Shisui likes to get Izumi angry on purpose,” Itachi━who had lucked out and had taken after their human mother━━had explained once when he and his spouses were visiting. “Something about more flavoring.  He never gets me angry like that but then again, I’m more likely to withhold if angered. It affects him more.”

It was something that he had absolutely no interest in knowing about his older brother and his in-laws but it had explained a lot about Shisui’s behavior on certain days. Shisui was like his father, faithful. It was a strange trait for an incubus but it was one that ran in the Uchiha family. They married their partner━or partners like in Shisui’s case━and fed from them exclusively. It was interesting to watch how Shisui and his spouses functioned in comparison to his more traditional father.

But at the moment he was just irritated to know he shared a similarity with Shisui of all people.

The sound of fingers pounding down on the keyboard next to him lightened to a steady stream of light tapping. Sasuke chanced a glance from his peripheral vision at his neighbor.

Something glittery caught his eye when Sakura tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. The shorter strand curled around her ear and revealed a trio of silver studs along her lobe. His eyes trailed from her ears to her cheeks, the color had faded out as her temper cooled.

Her eyes squinted, a crease forming between pale brows as she contemplated her next keyboard strokes. Eyes drifting from the wrinkle between her eyebrows, Sasuke eyed the way she bit her lower lip at the right corner.

As she worked the scent of desire had diminished from her direction. Her anger hadn’t quelled it but her focus on her assignment had overcome the secondary feeling. It drifted to a quiet buzz, the way a few humans got when they were near someone they were innocently attracted to.

Sakura continued to work, not bothering to try and chat with him, like she always did in their shared lectures. That was the part Sasuke never understood. She never bothered him outside of handing him the exit slip for their lectures or to get around his seat.

And yet her existence was hard to ignore.

She wasn’t the only human at their university that was attracted to him. He wasn’t oblivious to the stares and to what people assumed was subtle brushing against his body.

So why exactly was she such a problem?

Sakura sighed and pushed her keyboard away from her. The action caused her propped textbook to slide upwards  against the monitor and system unit and fold in on itself.

“Oh, shoot!” Sakura hissed under her breath as the book began to fall. She fumbled with it as it slipped off of the desk.

He hadn’t intended to reach for the textbook. It was mostly reflex that had him making a grab for it. It hadn’t even occurred to him until after it was safely in his hands that catching the book would give away the fact that he had been paying far more attention than he should have been. He shouldn’t have been paying any attention at all.

“Thank you,” Sakura murmured as he handed back the book. Her face did the thing again where it colored easily, pink spreading across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose.

Great.

Sasuke sucked in some air to try and distract himself from the heat pooling in his groin. It wouldn’t do for his hunger to manifest itself as a lump in his jeans.

Quickly logging out, Sasuke grabbed his belongings and made a swift exit.

He needed to get as far away from her and her dangerous blushes as possible.

.

.

It was odd. He could still taste the slices of tomatoes his mother had chopped up. They slid across his tongue, still tangy and cool from having just been taken out from the refrigerator, every bit as tasty as it always was but it didn’t hit his stomach the same way.

“Is everything alright?” Mikoto stopped in her stirring as she eyed the way Sasuke’s mouth twisted and he pushed away the plate of his favorite fruit.

“I ate like three tomatoes worth of slices and I’m still hungry.”

“Oh.” Mikoto looked down at the pot on the stove and frowned. “Should I make more or…?”

“I don’t think it would matter if I ate more or not at this point.”

Sasuke’s jaw clenched as the ache in his stomach stung sharply. He was running out of time.

He had hoped he would never have to deal with this problem. His older brother Itachi never did—he turned out to be human, no matter the fact that he was almost perfect in everything he did, he was human through and through.

Sasuke had figured if his brother ended up being human then he would get passed over as well. Unfortunately, genetics weren’t on his side on this one.

Clearing his bowl and wiping down his spot at the kitchen table Sasuke bid his mother goodnight, calling it in for the night.

Without bothering to turn on the lights for his bedroom he peeled off his shirt and kicked off his house slippers before collapsing onto his bed. He yanked his duvet out from under him and pulled it over his head.

“I don’t even want to touch anyone like that,” he sighed.

As soon as he had the thought, his mind flashed him an image of pink hair and red blushes clashing with jade colored eyes.

I’m not entertaining that.

Sasuke curled into a ball and clutched a pillow to his chest. Maybe tomorrow he would be less hungry.

.

.

It was like he hadn’t eaten in days.

There was nothing that could have distracted him from the pain in his lower stomach. It was pride that had him struggling to get to class. That and an exam later on in the day that he couldn’t afford to miss.

Traveling by train was a hassle due to the amount of attention he was attracting.

“Never let yourself starve,” Shisui had warned him weeks ago when the signs of transition were revealing themselves. “Your body will go into starvation mode and release pheromones that attract nearby humans that you can feed on. That may sound helpful, but it gets chaotic in public spaces.”

Sasuke was forced to exit the train five stations away from the university station and call a taxi company that specialized in otherworldly patrons. A pair of high school girls were inching closer and one middle aged man had already brushed his back against Sasuke’s chest much too often to be blamed on the rocking of the train car.

He wouldn’t survive the rush of travelers that would hop on the train at the central station.

“You don’t look good, kid.” A single horned demon cab driver turned in his seat to look back at him. “I could drop you off somewhere you can get easy prey.”

What, did he have a sign on his forehead that read “Starving Incubus?”

“Take me to K Uni,” Sasuke growled out more forcefully.

Incubus physiological issues weren’t going to get in his way of passing the semester with top marks.

The demon gave him a disapproving look before pulling away from the curb. He muttered something derogatory that Sasuke chose to ignore.

Sasuke was dropped off as close as possible to the building he needed to get to but it still wasn’t enough. He weaved through campus, taking the least crowded hallways to get to his destination.

“Fuck.”

Sasuke ducked under a stairwell and slid down against the wall to the floor. The hunger pains were getting worse.

Exhaling deeply through his nose, Sasuke resigned himself to missing his two lectures for the day and then braving his way to his exam. He would just have to hide out. Luckily he was in a part of the building no one used, choosing instead to use the staircase and elevators on the opposite side of the building than the ones that faced the cafeteria.

Unzipping his jeans to make more room for himself without actually whipping his penis out Sasuke sighed out, grateful for the few centimeters of relief.

Sasuke rubbed his forehead with the heel of his palm. Unlike erections from his youth, he was having difficulty willing his current predicament away with meditation. It wasn’t arousal, it was hunger. And it wasn’t going to be going away just because he wanted it to.

Closing his eyes, Sasuke leaned his head back and tried to focus on the cool cement wall behind him.

“Uchiha-kun?”

Oh, no. No. No. No!

“Uchiha-kun are you, okay?”

Of course Haruno Sakura would be the one person that chose to walk in a secluded part of the building. Of course it would be the last person he wanted to see him in such a state.

“Do you...need assistance?”

Or maybe...she was the perfect person to find him?

“Uchiha-kun, do you need me to get someone? Or something?”

Her voice was warm and full of concern and just so inviting. The tone promised she would do anything to help him. Anything.

Opening his eyes, Sasuke let out a groan. This just wasn’t his day.

Sakura squatted so that she was eye level with him and tossed her bag on the ground. The hem of her blue button down shirt dress rode up her thigh, revealing more of her legs than he had seen before.

“You look a bit feverish…” she mumbled, placing a cool hand against his forehead before sliding the back of it against his cheek. “You’re really—“

Her sentence was caught off when she gasped. Her skin was so cool and he was so hot that he had leaned into her touch and pressed a kiss to her wrist.

“Um, Uchiha-kun?” Sakura squeaked and Sasuke took advantage of her shock to take hold of her hand and press an open mouthed kiss to the inside of her wrist and dragged his lips up her palm.

He wasn’t sure of what he was doing, but something inside him was telling him to take her slim fingers into his mouth and nibble at the tips.

“Uchiha-kun…?”

Already in his presence for too long, Sakura’s green eyes glazed over and she was beginning to pant. Sliding his left hand up her thigh over her dress, Sasuke gripped her hip gently and tugged her so that she would fall on to his lap.

Sakura’s breath hitched when Sasuke pressed his forehead to hers. His glasses slid down the bridge of his nose and lightly tapped against her face. Nudging her nose with his, Sasuke pressed his lips against hers, guiding her into opening up for him with hesitant movements. Sakura returned his kiss, running her tongue along the seam of his mouth.

Every sigh and moan lightened the ache in his stomach. Sasuke rolled his tongue against Sakura’s and brushed the underside of her right breast, gently strumming his fingers against her ribs.

“Mmh!” Sakura made a sound of surprise as he gave a small breast an experimental squeeze.

Sasuke groped around with his thumb, circling a hardened peak through the cloth of her dress. Sakura grunted in frustration as he avoided the places she longed for him to touch.

Irritation rolled off of her in waves as she bit down on Sasuke’s lip, tugging it as she pulled away from him. Sasuke couldn’t help the upturn of his lips as she crossed her arms in front of her chest and puffed out an exhale to blow hair out of her face.

The more frustrated she got the more her arousal spiked. Her body was demanding release and as much as Sasuke’s hunger clouded mind wanted to give it to her, there was another part that wanted to prolong the moment.

Since the start of the semester, Haruno Sakura had been a nuisance. Every shared lecture she would distract him with her not so subtle glances and the smell of fresh linens and apples whenever she passed him to get to her seat.

So he wasn’t in any particular mood to just get it over with.

Slowly, as not to frighten her off, he slid his hand up her thigh under her dress. He pulled her in closer by cupping the back of her neck and thumbed smoothing circles along her jaw.

Sasuke was sure lack of experience would cause him to stumble, but apparently being an incubus did have its perks. His heightened senses guided him and he was sure he was moving exactly the way Sakura wanted him to. Not a single intake of air or moan was hidden from him.

“Oh!” Sakura buried her face in the crook of his neck as his fingers slipped into the front of her cotton boy shorts.

With two fingers he lightly traced the velvet soft nether lips and hummed in delight at the way Sakura trembled at the slight touch. He wondered how much of it was the exposure to his incubus pheromones and how much of it was her own sensitivity.

Stroking inward, Sasuke groaned at the moisture pooling between her legs. His stomach clenched, cramping with a sudden pang of pain. He slipped his middle finger inside and curled it, feeling her walls and stretching her a bit. He pumped slowly, keeping alert for any signs of distress, and then with his thumb circled around a curious, knobby bit of flesh right above her entrance.

It was almost instant the reaction he got out of Sakura. She gasped and curled inward on herself, clutching his shoulders.

“Please…” she begged, swiveling her hips hesitantly. “Please, oh, please!”

Sasuke gave in and pressed his thumb directly on her clit, massaging it and rubbing circles, adding pressure to it and listening to the change in pitches of Sakura’s moans. Slipping in his ring finger as well had Sakura letting out a strangled cry. Sasuke paused, worried that he had hurt her when she whimpered.

But then Sakura grinded her hips against his hand and he resumed pumping his fingers and twirling his thumb in the way she seemed to enjoy.

“Hm!”

Sakura caught him off guard by taking his face in her hands and lifting his face up to hers. Their teeth clanged together from her eagerness, but Sasuke allowed her to relax and settle into a languid meshing of lips all on her own.

A moan rolled into his mouth and it caused a delightful shiver to run down his spine. Sasuke increased the pace of his pumping fingers and the rubbing of his thumb, coaxing more of Sakura’s little moans. He shuddered when one particular moan of hers hit at the same time the walls of her core fluttered and clenched around his fingers.

That was good…

Sasuke pulled his fingers out, smirking at the dejected whimper that fell from Sakura’s lips. He slipped the fingers that had just been inside of her gathering her fluids and sucked on them. His stomach growled, needing more.

Sasuke laid Sakura down on the linoleum floor and tugged on her panties, dragging them down from her legs. He kept an eye on her face for any signs of protest but instead what he got was Sakura shimmying her hips to assist in helping him peel away her undergarments.

“Huh?” Sakura blinked her unfocused eyes as Sasuke adjusted their positions so that her upper body was lying on the ground and her legs were lifted onto his shoulders. “What are you━?”

She cried out in shock as he cupped the pert rounds of her backside and pulled her up to his mouth. Sasuke let out a breathy chuckle before flattening his tongue against her core and giving it one long lick upwards, flicking her clit at the end of the stroke.

Sasuke groaned, pressing open mouthed kisses to her core as Sakura covered her mouth with her hands to reign in her moans.

No matter how hard she tried to keep quiet and hide her reactions, Sasuke felt them all as they warmed his lower stomach, easing the ache he had been suffering through for weeks.

I wouldn’t have been avoiding this if I knew how good it felt to feed.

Sasuke wrapped his lips around the bundle of nerves that caused the most delight and sucked on it. He adjusted his hold on her to slide his right hand around so he could slip his fingers back inside and thrust them in and out in tandem with the oral attention he was giving her clit.

It didn’t take long for Sakura to tense up, thighs squeezing together around Sasuke’s head as she held on tight to her orgasm. Sasuke licked languidly at her core, letting her ride it out as long as possible.

The better she felt the less empty his stomach felt. The only problem was the throbbing between his legs.

Sasuke laid Sakura back down on the floor. Her dress bunched up around her hips, showing off her bare pale legs and the tuft of glistening pink curls at the peak of her thighs.

She was so pink everywhere. Her hair, her flushed face, even down below she was just so pink.

Sakura peered up at him from beneath wet, pale lashes. Her chest rose with each harsh pant as she tried to settle down her breathing. Sasuke was just about to call it off—perhaps he had reached the limit as to how much Sakura could take at once—when she lifted the hem of her dress further up, dragging it to bunch up at the cinched section below her breasts.

Swallowing hard, Sasuke sat up on his knees and tugged his jeans lower on his hips.

“Holy…” Sakura shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut. “That’s not going to fit.”

It was a part of the incubus anatomy that Sasuke hadn’t considered causing him any issues before. Sakura was petite, much smaller than he was. The size difference would be a challenge.

Especially considering incubi had much, much larger members than humans.

“It’s going to be fine,” he assured her, kneeling in front of her.

He spread her legs wider and pulled her up so that she was propped on his lap. It was a move that had his cock brushing the entrance of her core and he groaned at the heat radiating from her.

Sasuke pressed the head of his cock and watched Sakura’s eyes as they widened when he inched further in.

Sakura whimpered as he stretched her further. Even with all of the foreplay earlier, Sasuke was still much too big for comfort. Sasuke soothed her by stroking her thigh. Sakura reached up and took his hand in hers and intertwined their fingers.

“Keep,” She panted, “going.”

Gripping her hip with his other hand, Sasuke steadied her as he pulled out and thrust back in. He kept his thrusts shallow, hoping to get her accustomed to having him inside of her.

“Oh!” Sakura tightened her hold on his hand when he sank further in, finally able to slip past the tight passage of her core.

It’s still not much inside though…

Sakura arched her back, clearly ecstatic at the new sensation as Sasuke picked up the pace. Her face was no longer pinched in discomfort, much to Sasuke’s relief.

But maybe it would be better if I…

Sasuke slipped out and Sakura sobbed at the loss of his girth inside of her. He knew that his pheromones and body fluids acted as an aphrodisiac but he didn’t realize that humans could become so desperate once they came in contact.

Sasuke turned Sakura over so that she was lying down on her stomach. Realizing what he was up to, Sakura braced herself on her forearms and arched her back so that her ass was in the air.

Sitting up on his knees, Sasuke took his cock in his hand and guided himself back into Sakura’s wet heat.

He groaned aloud at the feeling as he sank even deeper than he was able to before. He waited for a moment as Sakura got used to the new position. A high pitched cry had gotten caught in her throat as he had stretched her out once more but it had turned into a moan as he slipped further inside.

Using a two handed grip on her hips to anchor himself, Sasuke pulled out and drove back in. His pace was slow but the thrusts were harsh and deep as he soaked in the blissful energy radiating from Sakura.

Sasuke began to increase his pace when a door opened up from a floor above them. A loud set of girls had flung the door open and were giggling to each other as they made their way down the stairs.

He instantly halted his movements and strained to listen to where the people were heading. He was reluctant to pull out; partially because he was almost well fed, partially because Sakura had turned her head to look back at him, face scrunched up in a pout, silently pleading for another release.

He was pleased to hear their voices carrying upwards, going in the opposite direction of where he and Sakura were hiding on the first level.

A sigh of relief caught in his throat and choked him as Sakura began to push back against him, grinding her hips.

“Oi,” Sasuke chastised, tightening his hold on her hips to still her grinding. They still weren’t in the clear until he heard them exit the stairwell through one of the doors.

Sakura whined low in her throat but settled when he leaned over her and pressed a kiss to her nape. She sighed dreamily as he continued to lavish her with sweet attention. He trailed more down her spine until he heard the clanging of a door shutting.

As soon as they were alone again, he pulled out and rammed back in. He couldn’t drag it out any longer or he would risk them almost getting caught again.

Snaking a hand around Sakura’s hip and down between her thighs, he reached for her clit and pinched it. Sakura squealed and the walls of her core clamped down on his cock. He rubbed it in a pace to match his thrusting.

Sakura mewled in delight as he swiveled his hips, grinding deeply. One good thrust and she came undone once again. Reluctantly, Sasuke pulled out at the last possible moment, ejaculating on the back of her thighs.

He could only compare the decision to pull out to the feeling of someone swiping away the last bite of one’s favorite dish before they could get to it but it would have been unwise to come inside of her without knowing if she were on any birth control.

He moaned softly as the last drops of cum oozed from the slit of his cock’s head. The act was so messy despite how pleasurable it was. It wasn’t going to be fun trying to clean up.

“Haruno,” Sasuke tried to get Sakura’s attention. She was face down on the linoleum, arms having finally given out from under her. “Haruno?”

Sasuke shook her shoulder and when he got no reaction he flipped her over onto her back. Her eyes were shut and her chest rose slowly with each breath she took.

Haruno Sakura had passed out right after her climax. Considering his starved state, he had drained her of more life force than was necessary.

Sighing to himself, Sasuke took out his handkerchief and got to work on wiping his ejaculant from where it was dripping on her legs.

So fucking messy.

.

.

Blinking her eyes open, Sakura yawned before turning her face into the comforting warmth she was leaning against.

A small cough drew her attention up to the face of her classmate Uchiha Sasuke.

“You missed two lecture blocks.”

Sakura narrowed her eyes at him. He had just fucked her until she was unconscious and that was what he wanted to inform her of?

“You’re an incubus.”

If the abnormally large size of his penis wasn’t a dead giveaway, his eyes had shifted colors and glowed red when he had sucked his fingers clean of her fluids. When had they shifted back to dark brown? She had no clue. She had been knocked out by the sudden draining of energy he had consumed.

Sasuke glared at her before averting his gaze. He stared at the wall and muttered, “Unfortunately.”

Sakura took note of how he cradled her in his lap, his cardigan sweater covering her. She watched as he avoided looking at her even as his ears burned hot pink.

He was still Uchiha Sasuke despite everything.

“This might be a weird time to mention it, but I like you. A lot.” The pink on his ears spread down his neck. “And I usually have more stamina than that. I’m not kidding, Uchiha-kun. I was in my high school’s track club.”

Sasuke pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled deeply.

“How about you start with calling me by my first name and we’ll work from there?”

“I can do that.” Sakura squirmed in his lap, making herself comfortable. She was still exhausted from earlier despite taking almost a three hour nap.

Ah, shit.

“I had an exam during one of those blocks.”

“Shit. I have one in half an hour.”

Sakura burst out laughing as the color drained from his face. He really was still the same Uchiha Sasuke she had been sitting next to all semester.

“At least you won’t be hungry, huh?”

“Real funny…”

[hysterialevi]

Hjarta | Chapter 5

Fanfic summary: In an AU where Eivor was adopted by Randvi’s family instead, he ends up falling in love with the man his sister has been promised to despite the arranged marriage between their clans.

Point of view: third-person

Pairing: Sigurd Styrbjornson x Male Eivor

This story is also on AO3 | Previous chapter | Next chapter

A WHILE LATER

BJORNHEIMR

Galloping directly for the longhouse, Sigurd rushed through the streets of Bjornheimr like a mad bull as he brought Eivor back to his home, grabbing the immediate attention of scattered onlookers. Men and women alike stopped in their tracks to see what all the commotion was about and stared at them in alarm, causing the paths to be littered with curious passersby.

As for Sigurd, the man had been riding relentlessly ever since their unexpected battle in the forest. Eivor insisted that his new wound was nothing to worry about, but even then, the prince could see that his friend was growing weaker by the second.

The younger man’s skin had become increasingly pale within the short span of their onerous journey, and despite his efforts to sit upright, Eivor’s body was clearly fighting against him more and more with a desperate urge to lie down.

At this point, he was simply trying to make sure that he didn’t tip off the saddle. Enough blood had gushed out of Eivor’s wound that his vision was starting to turn prickly around the edges, and he felt as if he was going to collapse at any minute.

He needed to see Ingrida, and fast.

Yanking on the reins of his horse, Sigurd forced the animal to come to an aggressive halt as they finally reached the longhouse, causing the steed to let out a panicked whinny. No one in the village had come to see what was going on just yet, but the prince noticed a small crowd of people gathering not too far away from where they stood.

They didn’t seem to realize that Eivor had been injured or that Kjotve’s men were lurking in the woods, but Sigurd’s state of distress was enough to put them on edge. The expression on his face had been knotted into a scowl of heightened concern, and the brisk pace in which he walked gave off the impression that he was in the midst of dealing with an urgent matter. They just didn’t know what it was.

“We’re here, Eivor,” Sigurd reassured, swiftly hopping off the saddle. “Hold on just a little longer.”

Grabbing the other man by the waist, the prince gently helped Eivor down from the horse and allowed him to lean on his shoulder, ensuring that he wouldn’t stumble to the ground upon returning to his feet. He appeared to be keeping his balance with a minimal amount of trouble, but even then, Sigurd didn’t want to risk taking his eyes off him.

“I’m... alright.” Eivor reiterated, his voice faltering at the end. “I only... need to sit down.”

“Don’t be silly,” Sigurd replied. “You need someone to take care of that cut. Look how much it’s bleeding. Just stay with me for now, alright? You’ll be fine.”

Dragging the younger man away from the horse, the prince escorted his friend into the longhouse as the sound of other voices started to reach his ears, bringing him a subtle sense of relief.

Through the tall archway ahead of them, Sigurd saw Arngeir, Ulfar, and his own father conversing with each other in the distance, pacing around the throne room as their words bounced off the wooden walls. 

They were speaking in solemn tones that were sharpened with a hint of concern, and it sounded as if their discussion was about the very same subject that brought Sigurd here in the first place. Kjotve.

“Kjotve’s been quiet for too long,” Ulfar remarked, his mood laden with suspicion. “I don’t like it. For the first time in years, two of his primary enemies are in the same place, and yet, he does nothing to take advantage of the situation. Why? It’s not like him.”

Arngeir nodded in agreement. “I understand your concerns, old friend, but we have no reason to act yet. Our warriors have reported no sightings of Kjotve’s men in this region, and Styrbjorn says that his clan managed to reach Bjornheimr without encountering them at all. Let us not instill fear into our people’s hearts. This is meant to be a time of celebration.”

The other man wasn’t so sure. “All I’m saying is, if I were Kjotve, I’d take this opportunity to snuff out this alliance. I wouldn’t give my enemies the chance to band together against me. We should at least place some more defenses around the village; have more men on the lookout. We can’t take any risks, especially when we have a king in our company.”

Styrbjorn offered a compromise. “Perhaps there is another solution. Instead of using the resources to place more defenses, we can simply send a patrol into the surrounding areas. They can eradicate any threats they come across while we focus on getting this wedding in order. If the patrol finds something worth noting, then we will act.”

Sigurd jumped into the conversation. “No need, father. We already did.”

Turning towards sudden interruption, the three men brought their attention to the opposite end of the hall, only to freeze in shock when they noticed the startling amount of blood streaming down from Eivor’s face.

“Odin’s beard...!” Arngeir exclaimed under his breath, striding over to them. “What happened to you two?”

“Kjotve’s men,” the prince explained, meeting the jarl in the middle. “They ambushed us at the waterfall to the north.”

Ulfar glanced outside. “You mean the Tears of Ymir?”

Eivor nodded, his movements slothful due to exhaustion. “Yes. Sigurd and I were out for a ride... they leapt out of the trees like a pair of wolves.”

“And where are they now?”

Sigurd answered his question. “Dead. We managed to kill them. There were only two, but I suspect there could be more. We would be fools to let our guard down.” He turned to the younger man, throwing in another piece of information. “...Eivor saved my life today. If he hadn’t been there, I’d likely be dead by now.”

Styrbjorn gazed at Eivor, bowing his head in respect. “Is that true? Well then, you have my eternal gratitude, Wolf-Kissed.”

Ulfar crossed his arms, gesturing to Eivor’s injury. “You see? This is exactly what I’m talking about. We must take more precautions, otherwise this will surely happen again. Kjotve won’t back down.”

Arngeir let out a wary sigh, finally conceding the man’s point. “Very well, Ulfar. We shall proceed with your plan. Find Eirik, and gather a small party of men. Scout the woods around Bjornheimr. If you find anymore of Kjotve’s clan in the forest, kill them. And if possible, bring some back alive. The information they have could be invaluable.”

Ulfar gave him a firm nod. “Of course, my jarl. I’ll start immediately.”

“In the meantime,” Arngeir continued, addressing the prince, “Sigurd, could you please escort Eivor to the seeress? I hate to ask this of you since you’ve already done so much, but...”

“Have no fear.” Sigurd replied. “I’ll bring him to Ingrida.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it. And thank you for bringing my son back home as well. I don’t know what we would do without him.” 

Arngeir began making his way to the war room, anxious to set his ideas in motion. “Anyways, we should return to our duties. The preparations for this wedding will continue as usual, but now I fear we must also focus on keeping Kjotve’s men at bay. He will return with a second strike -- this I am sure of -- and we must be ready. Otherwise, this alliance will have been for naught. Take great care in the days to come, all of you, and may the gods guide your path.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A FEW MINUTES LATER

THE TEMPLE

Standing idly in the corner, Sigurd watched quietly as Ingrida frantically made her way around the hut and gathered a handful of materials, muttering to herself in frustration. Eivor was currently sitting in a chair not too far away from the prince and holding a rag to his face, preventing the blood from making any more of a mess.

Despite the pain he was experiencing however, Eivor appeared to be doing much better compared to how he was before. A healthy tint had returned to the surface of his skin, and the world seemed to realign itself the minute he sat down. He no longer felt as if the ground was going to drop out from underneath him, and Sigurd’s presence only added to his well-being.

Overall, he had returned to normal in spite of their chaotic morning, and suffered no more than what was probably going to be a deep scar in the future. A part of him admittedly worried about what it would look like in the days to come, but the other part was just happy to be alive.

Eivor could’ve been killed today after all, and he would’ve been lying if he said that didn’t frighten him.

“...Foolish boy,” Ingrida scolded under her breath. “Look at what you’ve done. Had the blade cut you any higher, you’d be missing an eye like Ulfar by now. And what if Sigurd hadn’t been there to bring you back? You’d be stranded in the woods, bleeding all over yourself.”

Eivor smirked at the seeress’ words, admittedly somewhat amused by her motherly nature.

“I know, Ingrida.” He replied affectionately. “I’m sorry.”

The elderly woman crouched down in front of Eivor and held his chin in place, snatching the rag from his grasp before dipping it in a fresh bowl of water.

“Thank the gods it was only two of Kjotve’s men. I shudder to think about what could’ve happened if there had been any more. You’re both warriors of great skill, but even you’re not invincible. You must be more careful in the future. Do you understand?”

“...Yes, Ingrida.” 

The seeress sighed and shook her head, twisting the rag dry of any excess water. “Good. It is a great honor to walk through the gates of Valhalla, but we needn’t rush the journey there. There are plenty of ways to reach the Corpse Hall, and none to return. Remember that.”

She paused for a second and glanced around in confusion, clearly searching for something.

“Where have my herbs gone?” She wondered aloud. “I had them right here. Did I--”

The woman let out an annoyed tsk and stood up from the floor, turning to address Sigurd.

“Sigurd,” Ingrida said, handing him the rag, “I need to collect some more ingredients before I can treat Eivor’s wound. Would you ensure that it stays clean in the meantime?”

The prince took the cloth, mindful not to touch the area that would make contact with Eivor’s face. “Of course, seeress.”

“Thank you. I won’t take long. Just wipe the blood away, and make sure it doesn’t get infected. I’ll be back shortly.”

Taking her leave from the hut, Ingrida strode through the door at a brisk pace and headed into the nearby gardens, gently rattling the charms that hung from the frame on her way out. They swayed into each other with a series of faint clinks and twirled calmly in the breeze, morphing the sunlight that flowed through the archway.

Meanwhile, Eivor stayed in place as Sigurd quickly took the seeress’ position and knelt in front of his friend, attentively looking after his wound. He dipped the rag in the water and wiped away the streaks of blood staining the other man’s face, careful not to apply too much pressure.

His touch was delicate and soft contrary to what Eivor expected, and as time went on, the younger man actually started to feel comfortable under his care. Initially, he found it a bit odd to be in such close proximity to someone he hardly even knew, but surprisingly, Sigurd didn’t appear to reflect his timidness.

Instead, the prince simply leaned closer to Eivor and continued to clean his cut, seemingly preoccupied with something else. His brow was crinkled in deep thought as he wrestled with his inner concerns, and his eyes had returned to the same look of lostness that he had when they first met. A cloud of remorse dimmed the usual twinkle in his gaze, and his expression hung low with a grim sense of conflict.

A thousand things seemed to be colliding inside Sigurd’s head at the moment, and yet -- as always -- he cared to share none of them.

So, finally, Eivor decided to ask.

“...Are you alright, Sigurd?” He suddenly said, causing his friend to pause. “You look troubled.”

The prince woke up from his state of contemplation and locked eyes with Eivor, faltering as if he had forgotten where he was.

“Oh, I’m... I’m fine, Eivor.” Sigurd replied. “I just...”

The older man sighed deeply and placed the rag down for a moment, slouching his shoulders in defeat.

“...Forgive me. I lost myself in thought. I was just thinking about everything that happened in the forest earlier, and... well, I’m sorry.”

Eivor cocked a brow at him. “Sorry? For what? You can’t possibly think this is your fault.”

Sigurd’s tone hardened with guilt. “But it is. I should’ve known better than to drag you into the woods with Kjotve’s men still threatening our shores, especially when there’s an alliance in the making. They’ve already caused both our clans an abundance of issues, and yet, I thought it wise to wander into the forest alone. If you hadn’t been there, gods only know what would’ve happened to me.”

He gave Eivor a glance of sincere gratitude. “Thank you, my friend. You saved me from my own foolishness.”

The younger man deemed the apology unnecessary. “Don’t forget that you saved me too, Sigurd. Without you, I probably wouldn’t have gotten back to the village in time. I was... actually surprised when you didn’t mention that to your father.”

“It wasn’t important.” Sigurd stated. “I was the one who put you in danger to begin with.”

“No,” his friend insisted. “You weren’t. Kjotve’s men are the ones who would’ve killed us. If anything, you protected me when I was most vulnerable. I don’t like being the one who needs to be rescued, but you saved my life, Sigurd. There’s no denying that. I owe you as much as you owe me.”

Sigurd smiled warmly at the sentiment, appearing slightly more relaxed than before. “Then I suppose we’re even.”

Eivor chuckled at him in return. “...I suppose we are.”

Falling silent for a second, the prince retreated to the safe haven buried inside his mind and returned to the task Ingrida assigned him with, dabbing away some more blood that was gathering on Eivor’s skin. A familiar type of affection now softened the edges of his usually stern gaze, and without even realizing it, Sigurd found himself peering longingly into the Wolf-Kissed’s eyes. 

He seemed to be experiencing the same emotions that Eivor had been continuously battling with ever since encountering his new friend, and much like the younger man, Sigurd’s first response was to stifle these feelings.

It may have been no more than a spark for now, but he knew better than to dismiss the sincerity of the embers flickering in his heart. He could feel something more profound brewing beneath the surface, and he doubted he’d be able to fight against it if he allowed it to blossom any further.

At the same time though, Sigurd wondered if this was what the gods intended. Originally, he assumed that the Nornir brought him to Bjornheimr for the sake of meeting his future wife, but now... he could see that they led him here for someone else.

Randvi may’ve been the one he came here for, but Sigurd could already tell she wouldn’t be the reason he was going to stay -- and the realization shook him to the core.

“...Sigurd?” Eivor repeated, speaking quieter than usual. “Is everything alright? You look like you have something to say.”

The prince remained sullen with disconcertment and attempted to straighten out his thoughts, unsure of how to put them into words.

“You know, Eivor...” Sigurd whispered vehemently,  “...when that man struck you with his blade, part of me truly believed you had been killed for a moment. You were completely motionless, and there was so much blood pooling on the snow beneath you. It... it frightened me. I’m aware that we haven’t known each other for that long, but...”

He trailed off into silence, causing Eivor to urge him on. “...But what?”

Sigurd let out a breath, completely forgetting about the other man’s wound for the time-being. “...Part of me is already afraid of losing you. I know it sounds silly, considering we’ve only just met.”

The younger man shook his head, admittedly touched by the confession. “No, I... I think I understand how you feel, actually. You and I have only seen each other twice in just as many days, and yet, it almost seems as if I’ve known you for much longer than that. There’s just... something there. Something that I don’t have the words to describe.”

“Indeed. I know what you speak of. Ever since we first met at the feast, I’ve had this foreign sensation blooming inside me, but I never thought to bring it up out of the fear of sounding deluded. So I’m relieved you understand.”

Eivor laughed softly at himself, giving the prince a tender look. “You know what’s strange, Sigurd? I hardly delve into these kinds of conversations with anyone else. Typically, Ulfar is the only one who can engage with me in such a way, but... it feels completely natural around you. You draw it out of me like it’s nothing. I enjoy our talks.”

The prince wiped away some more blood, unintentionally allowing his hand to linger on Eivor’s cheek.

“It gladdens me to hear it. Perhaps we can meet again before the wedding occurs. Hopefully under less dire circumstances. Only if you want to, of course.”

The Wolf-Kissed beamed radiantly. “I’d like that.”

Bringing their discussion to a halt, Ingrida suddenly came barging back inside with a bowl of new ingredients in her hand, causing Sigurd to retreat his hand as if he had touched an open flame.

Meanwhile, the seeress hastily shooed him to the side and took his place in front of the injured man, wasting no time in tending to Eivor’s wound.

“Hold still.” She instructed, dipping her fingers into the herbal mixture. She grabbed his chin and began applying the ointment, ensuring that it covered the entire area. “This will stop the bleeding and prevent it from getting infected. Keep it on for the rest of the day. Do not wipe it off. Understand?”

Eivor nodded, only to have his head wrenched back into place by Ingrida’s firm hold. “Of course, Ingrida.”

“Good. The sword cut you deep, but thankfully, you should have no more than a scar to remind you of your carelessness today. If the wound starts to swell, come see me again. We’ll sort you out. Otherwise, just make sure that it doesn’t fester.”

“I will. Thank you, seeress. For everything.”

The old woman released Eivor from her grasp and rose to her feet, allowing the young man to walk free. She patted her hands clean of any ointment that remained on the skin and brought the bowls back to their shelves, emptying the diverse range of contents that sat in them.

“You’re welcome, little cub.” 

She turned to the prince, giving him a small bow of respect. “And thank you, Sigurd, for looking after him. Despite his recklessness, Eivor holds a special place in our heart. We would be lost without him. I know many folks will be grateful for your assistance as well.”

The man returned the bow with a smile. “I only did what I felt was right.”

Ingrida thought to herself for a moment, crossing her arms in ponder. “Hm. Perhaps I misjudged you. The gods advised me to be wary of your arrival, but so far, you’ve done nothing to lend merit to their warnings. I trust it will stay that way?”

Sigurd nodded assuredly. “Of course, seeress.”

“Good. Then I can rest easy, for I know Eivor will be in good hands. Anyway, you should return to your duties. I’ve occupied you for long enough. Take care of yourself in these troubling times, and stay away from the woods. We needn’t tempt the Valkyries anymore. In the meantime, Eivor, I’d like to have a word with you.”

The prince strolled towards the exit and glanced over his shoulder, saying one last thing to the other man before taking his leave.

“I’ll meet you outside when you’re ready, Eivor.”

Removing himself from the vicinity, Sigurd gave the seeress some space to talk as he stepped back out into the wintry air, practically being slapped in the face by an icy chill. The temperature had barely warmed up since their escapade in the forest, and the only thing providing the village any sort of heat was sun’s exuberant rays, trying desperately to pierce through the glacial breeze.

As for Ingrida, she approached Eivor as soon as the other man was gone and kept her voice low, making sure that Sigurd wouldn’t overhear them. Her gaze seemed to be stuck on the prince’s distant figure, and the hushed manner in which she spoke led Eivor to suspect that she knew more than she was letting on.

“Listen to me, young cub,” the seeress murmured as she continued to clean the hut. “It is a dangerous path you walk. I would advise abandoning it as soon as possible.”

The viking blinked in confusion, uncertain of what she was talking about. “I’m afraid I don’t understand. What path?”

Ingrida tilted her head towards Sigurd. “Do not think me blind, Eivor. I see how you look at him. It is the same way my son Eirik looks at Thora. Your heart is fueled by passion, but it will only lead you into disaster.”

Eivor chuckled, admittedly impressed by the woman’s instincts. “Is it truly so obvious?”

“Indeed. I’ve never seen your soul burn so brightly before. This man ignites something within you... and you must snuff it out. For the sake of this marriage.”

The young man attempted to reassure her. “Have no fear, Ingrida. I won’t allow these thoughts to spiral beyond my control. I understand the necessity of this alliance. I wouldn’t put it in jeopardy.”

The seeress decided to let go of the topic for now, albeit reluctantly. “If you say so, Eivor. But this kind of love is not restrained so easily. Trying to control it is like trying to control the ocean. See that it does not overwhelm you.”

“I will, Ingrida. You don’t need to worry about me.”

The woman snickered. “On the contrary, if I didn’t, you’d be dead by now.” 

Ingrida stepped in front of Eivor, smiling proudly at him. “Ah, but you are a man now. The way ahead is your own. How you decide to tread its waters is up to you. I cannot guarantee it will be safe, but I trust that you will approach it with wisdom.”

She flicked a dismissive hand towards the door and turned her back to Eivor, focusing on the collection of scattered herbs lying throughout the hut.

“But enough of that. Your friend is waiting for you, and I have work to do. Come see me again if your wound deteriorates. We should be able to take care of it with no problem.”

Eivor waved goodbye to the elderly woman, making his way out the door.

“Farewell, Ingrida. Stay safe. And thank you again. I’ll speak with you soon.”

“You too, Eivor. Be careful out there.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A LITTLE LATER

Sauntering away from the warmth of the seeress’ hut, Eivor strolled out into the open once again and pushed himself through the arctic weather, squinting in the light that suddenly hit his eyes. A calming wind could be felt whistling through the heart of the village, and stretching out in front of him, the young man saw a trail of sunken footprints leading to Sigurd himself.

At the moment, the prince was sitting on a bench next to the row of statues that towered over Bjornheimr and waiting patiently for Eivor to rejoin him, undeniably curious about what Ingrida had to say.

He fidgeted with his hands in an anxious manner and stuck to his own thoughts, not even realizing that he had company again. His ears were seemingly deaf to the series of footsteps that crunched their way towards him, and when Eivor’s first greeting didn’t manage to catch his attention, the younger man repeated his name even louder, throwing a puzzled look at him.

“Sigurd?”

The redheaded viking jolted his head towards the intrusion, shifting his mood entirely once he laid eyes on Eivor. 

“Ah, Eivor. There you are.”

The Wolf-Kissed laughed, placing a foot on the bench. “Has anyone ever told you that you get lost in your thoughts easily?”

A grin spread across Sigurd’s face. “My father, Dag, our own seeress... the list goes on. I fear it’s a habit of mine that I’ve not been able to discard.”

Eivor rested an arm on his knee. “You must have a lot on your mind to constantly slip into a trance like that.”

“Who doesn’t? Especially nowadays?”

He shrugged. “Fair enough.”

The prince turned around to face his companion, gazing upwards with an expression of embarrassment.

“Listen, Eivor... I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable during our conversation earlier. I realize I opened myself up quite a bit. Perhaps even too much. I hope I didn’t overstep my boundaries.”

The younger man shook his head. “Stop apologizing for everything. You did nothing wrong. In fact, I enjoyed the talk we had. So there’s no need to fret.”

Sigurd sighed in relief. “That’s good to hear. Your feelings are important to me. The last thing I want is to back you into a corner.”

Eivor put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Believe me, I’ll let you know if that ever happens. There won’t be any need for guessing.”

The older man smirked at that. “Sounds good to me.”

Sigurd stood up from the bench and stretched the stiffness out of his neck, eager to get back to their normal lives.

“Shall I walk you back to the longhouse?” He offered, gesturing to the distant building. “I imagine you want some rest after everything that’s happened.”

Eivor smiled fondly at him, not quite ready to part ways just yet. “Actually, I was planning to visit the tavern. I could use a hot meal right now. And a good drink as well. Care to join me?”

“Are you sure? I assumed you would’ve gotten tired of me by now.” Sigurd joked.

The other man threw an alluring glance at him, strolling ahead of the prince as he steadily trekked down the path snaking away from the temple. 

“Not in the slightest.”

[needs-to-stop-looking-at-yigas]

It’s Inky again here again with more Momma Pomma content

What could possibly be better than going on a beach date with the two people you love most in the world? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

That’s what Sooga thought to himself as he sat on the sandy beach, watching as Pomma and Kohga splashed around in the waves. Truly, he had no idea what he had done to deserve the hearts of the two most incredible people in the world. That didn’t stop him from trying to figure it out, though.

Before he became too lost within his own thoughts, both of his lovers suddenly called him over, requesting that he join them in the water. Never one to refuse, he got up from his spot on the shore and made his way over towards the two in the water.

While doing so, he had accidentally splashed Kohga, who splashed him back right away. Pomma, having been caught in Kohga’s splash, splashed him in return. Within mere seconds, all three were splashing one another, playing around like little kids, all while gentle waves rocked their bodies.

Just as Sooga was about to splash Kohga, he felt an ominous presence behind him. He tried to turn around, but it was too late, as a massive wave suddenly crashed into him, forcing his entire body down into the water.

He tried pushing himself back up to the surface, but was unable to. The sheer force of the water kept him pinned down, and left unable to breathe. He thought he would be able to hold his breath until he was able to breach the surface again, but soon enough, he felt himself getting lightheaded. That wasn’t good.

In a panic, he began thrashing around, so desperately trying to get the oxygen he so desperately needed, but he couldn’t.

GASP

Sooga heaved as he pulled his head out from….somewhere. That was strange. He was no longer at the beach. And he wasn’t wet at all. He had no idea what was going on, until his eyes managed to focus.

He was in bed, with both Pomma’s and Kohga’s arms around him. The ‘somewhere’ he had just yanked his head out from just so happened to be the latter’s large chest.

Ah. He had been suffocating in his girlfriend’s massive breasts. Of course.

He was about to settle back down and return to sleep, when he felt the soft body in front of him shift.

“Mm…Sooga…? What’s wrong….?”

Despite his recent near death experience, Sooga couldn’t help but swoon upon hearing Pomma’s voice. She always spoke in a soft tone, but hearing her when she had just woken up was magical.

“It’s nothing…Don’t worry about it….Go back to sleep…”

“Sooga I can feel your….yawn….boner….”

“You can huh- Oh!”

Sooga pulled himself away from Pomma and looked down. Sure enough, there was a sizable tent in his underwear. But why did he have one? He was just suffocating in Pomma’s brea- Oh. That’s why.

“Pomma, I am so-“

“If you were having an exciting dream and needed some help, you could’ve just said so.”

Pomma let out another soft yawn as she slowly sat up. She was wearing a short red nightgown that Sooga swore was partially see-through.

Sooga looked at her with wide eyes. She was truly the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Both inside and out. He couldn’t help but stare.

As his eyes glazed over her soft features, he found himself lingering on her breasts. He shouldn’t be staring at them, especially because they were the cause of his poorly timed erection, but he couldn’t stop.

“You know that you’re allowed to touch, right?” Pomma grinned at him as she allowed one of the straps of her nightgown to fall down her shoulder. That was enough to do it for Sooga.

He grabbed her shoulders and carefully pushed her back down onto the bed before straddling her stomach. Then, without skipping a beat, he cupped his hands around her massive tits and began massaging them. They were so soft, as always. So big, holdable, and squishy. They were perfect.

Sooga had seen a couple lewd magazines containing women throughout the years, though it was never on purpose, and they always seemed to portray women with large, perky breasts that didn’t contain a single stretch mark. Pomma’s were nothing like that.

Yes, they were large, of course, but they were covered in stretch marks. Some might’ve found them ugly, but to Sooga, they were beautiful. She also had marks on her stomach, thighs, and rear end, and Sooga loved them just the same. Each mark was as special and unique as the woman who lay beneath him.

After spending a good couple of minutes admiring Pomma’s breasts, he pulled the front of her nightgown down, finally exposing them in their full glory. They were even more beautiful like this, as he could finally see her nipples. They were big, soft, and just looked perfect for sucking on. So of course he had to test his hypothesis.

He cupped his hand around Pomma’s right breast and lowered his head. He hesitated for a moment, his hot breath teasing her, until she finally spoke up.

“Don’t be shy, baby, go ahead and help yourself.”

Sooga didn’t need to be told twice, as he immediately wrapped his lips around her nipple and began to suck.

Pomma hummed softly and tangled her fingers in Sooga’s silky hair. She loved watching her precious baby boy get like this. Even though Sooga was the one who had woken up aroused, he was still focusing on pleasuring her. What an absolute sweetheart.

Sooga closed his eyes and purred in response to the fingers in his hair. He loved having his hair played with. Especially by a woman who was so soft, so loving, so gentle. It only motivated him to further pleasure her.

He carefully took her nipple between his teeth, making sure he wasn’t being too rough, then began slowly pulling away.

Meanwhile, he pinched Pomma’s other nipple between his forefinger and thumb. Instead of tugging on it, as he was doing with his mouth, he slowly rubbed the sensitive bud between his fingers.

Pomma gasped in pleasure and tightened her grip on Sooga’s hair. “Good boy….Good boy, Sooga….Just like that….Mmm…”

He did as he was told, continuing to tug on one nipple while massaging the other. Beneath him, Pomma let out sighs of pleasure and breathy moans, her lips parted oh so sweetly.

Though after a good minute, she gently tugged on Sooga’s hair, signaling for him to stop, which he did immediately.

“You’re being such a good boy for me, Sooga. Such a good, good boy. You deserve a reward. Especially since you’ve been doing so much to please me, despite the fact you’ve been hard this whole time.”

She gave him a warm smile. A smile that made him feel more loved and valued than any words could. He didn’t need a reward. He would be perfectly content merely sucking on his girlfriend’s breasts until he fell back asleep. At least, that’s what he thought until he realized what his reward actually was.

Pomma had pulled up the front of her nightgown, exposing her bare, hairy pussy.

While Sooga himself much preferred to be well groomed in the nether regions, neither of his partners shared that preference. They both had massive bushes, but he never minded. In fact, he found it quite attractive.

Not even realizing that his mind had begun to wander, Sooga was snapped back to reality upon feeling the cool air of the bedroom against his hard cock. Pomma had pulled the front of his underwear down when he hadn’t been paying attention.

“Look at you….all hard and throbbing for me…” Pomma’s voice was almost whiny as she spoke, her fingertips gently brushing against the underside of Sooga’s shaft.

“Does my baby wanna fuck Mommy’s pussy?”

“Y….Yes….”

“Hm? Yes what, baby?

“I….I want to fuck your pussy, Mommy…”

“Atta boy~”

As Sooga readjusted himself into a better position, Pomma used two of her fingers to slowly rub her pussy. She was wet. Very wet. Having her breasts toyed with was a massive turn on for her.

Once Sooga was ready in his new position, Pomma moved her hand away and spread her legs open. He placed one hand firmly upon her waist and used the other to line himself up with her awaiting entrance. But before he began pushing in, he glanced up at her, just to double check that everything was okay.

“Go ahead, baby.”

Sooga didn’t have to be told twice, as he immediately began slowly pressing in. While he was carefully sliding himself in, Pomma wrapped her arms around his neck and let out a soft sigh. Sooga was a big boy. Very big. But she had taken him enough times that she didn’t need prep anymore.

Once he was about halfway in, Sooga stopped and looked down, wanting to make sure that Pomma wasn’t in any pain.

“You worry too much, baby. I’m okay. You can keep going.”

Sooga nodded, and once again began pushing himself in further.

“I can’t help but worry….I know that you aren’t weak by any means….but I’m still afraid of you getting hurt….especially by me….”

Pomma sighed softly and cupped a hand around Sooga’s cheek. “Hey….Hey….It’s okay. You’re not hurting me. If you were, I’d let you know. Right now, you’re doing just fine. I promise.”

That seemed to reassure Sooga, as soon enough, he bottomed out, balls deep in his girlfriend, who he couldn’t help but admire. The way her eyes had fallen half shut, the way her plush lips parted, the way her plentiful chest rose and fell with every breath. She was gorgeous. And he just had to let her know that.

“You’re so beautiful, Mommy…” He said as he began to slowly thrust. “More beautiful than any other woman I have ever seen…..Your body is just….It’s so good….It’s so soft…and full…”

Tears began to well up in his eyes as he spoke. He utterly adored the woman who lay beneath him.

“Mommy I love you so much…I never…I never thought that a woman could ever make me as weak and lovesick as you do….I would do anything for you….you’re so good…I love you….I love you….”

Unable to hold back, tears began rolling down Sooga’s flushed cheeks. Tears of love, joy, and admiration. It wasn’t the sexiest thing, but it was pure, raw emotion. And Pomma loved when Sooga showed her that.

“I love you too, baby. You’re such a strong, handsome, wonderful boyfriend. Now give Mommy a kiss.”

Sooga immediately did as he was told, pressing his slightly chapped lips against Pomma’s. And despite the fact Sooga was still slowly thrusting into her, their kiss was borderline chaste. Full of softness, rather than fiery passion.

A few moments passed, and Pomma slowly pulled away, a pleased smile playing across her lips as she began to speak

“Now, be a good boy and breed Mommy’s pussy~”

Those words lit a fire inside Sooga that not even the sun could compete with. After placing both hands on Pomma’s waist, he began thrusting into her at a speed that would make a pornstar jealous. His hips snapped against hers each time he buried himself deep within her pussy.

Meanwhile, Pomma tightened her hold around Sooga’s neck, squeezed her eyes shut, and moaned as she was plowed like a damn field. Sooga usually tried to be gentle with her, but when she brought up breeding, he turned almost primal. He did, however, save enough brain power to kiss all over her neck as he continued to thrust.

“You sound so good when you moan for me, Mommy….It drives me fucking crazy…..I’m going to breed your pussy so good….I swear….I’m gonna fill you with triplets….” Sooga muttered against her soft skin. All she could do was moan in response.

Sooga’s cock was throbbing inside of Pomma, and he could feel pressure in his abdomen begin to build.

“Fuck….I’m gonna cum….I’m gonna cum so deep inside of you….”

“Ah-! Let me see your face! Let me see your pretty face when you cum!”

Sooga, of course, did as he was told, and pulled away from Pomma’s neck, allowing her to see the honestly quite pathetic look on his face. His cheeks were bright red, his eyes were glossy, and he was drooling like a mutt. He was a hot mess. Pomma loved seeing him that way. And with just a few more thrusts, Sooga finally hit his peak.

“FUCK!!” Sooga cried as he came, balls deep inside of Pomma, pumping her full with his heavy load. All the while, he was in pure ecstasy, panting like a dog.

Once he had sufficiently emptied his balls inside of his girlfriend, he slowly pulled out, watching as his cum dripped out of her wet and creamy pussy. He wasn’t quite done yet, however, as he still had one thing he needed to do.

Without saying a word, Sooga used two of his fingers to roughly rub Pomma’s beautifully erect clit. Up and down, side to side, around in circles. Until Pomma came with a loud moan, squirting as Sooga continued to rub her through her orgasm.

Finally, the couple were satisfied. Thoroughly exhausted as well. Sooga flopped down next to Pomma and wrapped his arms around her before they both let out a loud sigh.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Soogie.”

“Are you two finally gonna go back to sleep now?”

“KOHGA?!”

[ohokimdumb]

Carlos Oliveira Imagine (Big Boi Carlos) SMUT 💦💛👅

Request:  Hi there,can I request a Carlos SMUT imagine with a fem!reader,with daddy and size kink ;) ? where she as well is part of S.T.A.R.S with Jill,and she gets very bratty with Carlos and he punishes her. Btw I really love your blog,thank you so much for quenching our thirst for Carlos 💓💝💘💖💗🥰😍

A/N: Thank you so much for your kind words @bucky-senpai ♥ This imagine ended up being way longer than my usual word count, holy cow I got carried away lmao. I hope you enjoy it!

Word count: 1.8k

Gif by: travelllar

Hours passed as you struggled to focus on the missing person report flashing on the screen in front of you. Negative thoughts invaded your mind as the continuous beeping of the computer alarm overloaded you with frustration. It didn’t seem fair that half the STARS employees had the day off, but the other half were forced to work extended hours. Carlos and Jill were included in the half that were set free for Saturday; he didn’t even have the decency to tell you to have a good day. He used to remind you to have a good day and remain positive, but he had been slipping recently. Honestly, it wasn’t a big deal he missed a few days of sending positive thoughts to you. What was more annoying than his lack of socialization with you, was him spending most of his time with Jill. You knew they worked together and were partners, but it had been months since you and Carlos joined STARS. It took Carlos six months to finally start kissing Jill’s butt? You buried your face in your sweaty hands, eyes tired of staring at a computer screen. Suddenly, the door swung open and Carlos stood in the doorway with a grin on his face and takeout in his hands. You responded with a blank stare and went back to focusing on your reports.

 Carlos frowned at how unimpressed you were with his undeniable kindness. You noticed Jill wasn’t with him, which surprised you. It was nice his butt-buddy wasn’t tagging along, but it still annoyed you how he could be so blind to how you felt.

 “I brought Chinese.” Carlos held up the bag from your favorite Chinese restaurant. You sighed, still unimpressed.

 “I’m a little busy here, you can just leave it in the office fridge.” You didn’t even give him the luxury of acknowledging his presence. Carlos tossed the bag of Chinese takeout at your feet, and you were amazed by his sudden change of attitude.

 “No need to be hostile.” You turned your cheer so you faced him. He didn’t seem to appreciate your nasty attitude.

 “What’s with the attitude?” He asked, offended to be treated so rudely. You rubbed your scalp as you felt a migraine slowly make itself known. You really didn’t want to argue with Carlos, especially when you weren’t feeling well. But, your pettiness overpowered reason.

 “Is Jill your new fling?” You asked in a very hostile way, throwing away your comment about unnecessary hostility. Carlos raises an eyebrow and chewed on his bottom lip, clearly annoyed with your obvious jealousy.

 “Take back that comment.” Carlos warned, but you refused to hear his voice of aggressive reason. He had no intention of arguing with you either, especially not on his day off. Carlos took a few cautious steps toward you, but you scooted back in your chair. It wasn’t because you didn’t want to be close to him. Truthfully, you wished he would explore your body the way he did last week. The way his large, strong hands groped every part of your figure made you weak. Just as you thought about it, your legs felt weak. The way he towered over you as you sat low in your office chair had you determined to get him fired up even more.

 “No, why would I take back something that is obviously true?” You asked with a shaken voice. Carlos pulled you up onto your feet as he took your wrist gently. He wrapped his arm around your waist and leaned him, his expensive cologne filling your nostrils.

 “Do you honestly believe I’d touch Jill the way I touch you?” He growled quietly in your ear. His sudden change of attitude forced your breath to hitch as your nerves got riled up. Carlos tightly held your lower region against his, you felt how hard his bulge was through his jeans. You swallowed nervously, tempted to taunt him more. You enjoyed how overpowering he was physically and affectionately; he was big in every shape and form.

 “If you think I’d touch Jill, or eat her out, or fuck her the always I do to you...you’re foolish. But, you’re smarter than that.” Carlos looked down at you with a lustful spark in his brown eyes; it was like staring into the eyes of Satan. You couldn’t look away, his dark stare hypnotized you. It made you want to melt in his arms and give yourself to him in the most sadistic way possible. Your temptations overpowered your thoughts and you crashed your lips against his. You whimpered as you grew weak in his arms; he took your breath away. Carlos’ body was so muscular, you could feel his large muscles under the thin fabric of his shirt. Carlos pulled away, denying your affection and you looked at him with a desperate expression. He lets go of your waist and sits down in your office chair.

 “Bend over daddy’s knee.” Carlos ordered and you immediately obeyed. There was no denying Carlos when he was in such a lustful state of mind. Carlos unbuttoned your jeans from underneath and pulled your jeans and panties down all at once. You breathed heavily in anticipation as Carlos lightly caressed one of your cheeks, warming the flesh for what was to come. The way Carlos called himself “daddy” made your core tingle in such an unspeakable way. Suddenly your bare skin stung intensely as Carlos’ hand aggressively connected with the skin of your cheek.

 “C-Carlos, what if someone walks in?” You questioned the privacy of your surroundings. Carlos responded with another spank.

 “What’s my name?” He asked. Carlos was surprised by how shy and disobedient you were acting. Typically, you didn’t care. You loved to be sexually reckless with him. Your cheeks flushed a light red as you felt the stinging pain slowly fade; it would soon return if you continued to disobey. Even though feeling his sheer strength as he spanked you turned you on, you wanted more than punishment.

“D-Daddy…” You responded and it seemed like Carlos was going to spank you once more, but instead he lovingly rubbed your cheek. You breathed in with relief as he helped you stand up. It was difficult to move your legs with your pants and undies around your ankles.

“How about we get rid of those? What do you think about that, baby?” Carlos pointed at the bundle of clothes around your ankles. You nodded in response and kicked them off your ankles and across the office. Carlos smiled wickedly as picked you up, setting you on the top of your desk. The wood was cold against your warm skin; you knew your cheeks would be bruised tomorrow morning. Carlos slid his hand around the side of your neck, to the back of your head and took a fistful of hair. He was hungry for your affection; he demanded to be touched. As he kissed you like a starving animal, he guided your hand down the front of his jeans, into his tight-fitting boxers. His bulge was massive, it was difficult to wrap your hand around his throbbing cock. Carlos knew you would do the best you could. Whenever he acted the way he was, your one goal was to please him.

Gently, you pumped his cock as Carlos aggressively attacked your lips with his. His kisses were sloppy and filled with lust, and that’s all you wanted; his dominant, lustful affection. He slid his tongue between your lips and twisted it around yours. He instinctively spread your legs with his lower region. He heard how wet you were as the sound of sticky skin invaded his eardrums. You desperately tugged at his shirt, demanding he took it off. Carlos granted your wish, breaking the hungry kiss to strip. He carelessly threw his shirt somewhere in the office; he kept his focus on you. You released his cock, sticky of pre-cum, from your gently grip. You grew tired of feeling empty of him. You were desperate for Carlos to fill you to the brim, to feel his cock spread your walls so far apart, it would force a lustful scream from your lips.

Carlos unbuttoned his pants and pulled them down, along with his boxers. His cock sprung from his boxers and seeing his extreme size sent a wave a pleasure through every nerve in your body. Carlos brought your attention back to his gaze; his eyes were drunk with lust. Before Carlos lied you back against your desk, he swept everything off the top, causing it all to crash to the ground. Instead of complaining you lied back; your head slightly hung off the desk.

“C-Carlos…please…I-I want you.” You begged as you wrapped your legs around Carlos’ waist. Carlos huffed in response at how weak and vulnerable you were beneath him. He teasingly rubbed his cock between the soaked lips of your center. You wined as you latched onto his forearms tightly with your hands. Carlos smirked and crammed his cock deep inside you, not allowing your walls to adjust to his size. You cried out as your walls spread quicker than ever, immediately tightening around his cock. Carlos started a slow pace. He slid out, but pounded his cock back inside. Every time he thrusted forward, your body scooted the desk back from the aggressively delicious impact of his lower body smacking against yours.

Your moans became louder as his thrusts quickened. The desk began to scrape violently against the floor; you covered your mouth. The desk made enough noise, you didn’t need to make it more obvious with your moans. Carlos was good about staying silent, his drunk expression said he was drowning in pure ecstasy.

“Fuck…” Carlos muttered under his breath as his cock twitched within your warm, tight walls. He wasn’t sure how much longer he would last; it had been awhile since he felt inside you. Your nails dug into the skin of his forearms, he growled at the burning pain of you shredding his skin. Pens and paper continued to fall from the desk as he buried himself deep inside you. Your eyes squeezed shut as you felt your walls tighten around him like never before. Before you knew it, your juices were dripping from the edge of the desk, onto his shoes. Carlos was close to cumming as well. He crammed himself even harder into you, causing your legs to shake aggressively. Letting go of one forearm, you bit down onto your wrist to hold in your moans. Within seconds Carlos came deep inside, his lower body twitched violently as his juices squirted within your walls. Both of you were exhausted and hungry for food.

“Good thing I brought that takeout.” Carlos joked and pulled you up into a tight embrace. You tried to catch up with your lungs, but Carlos worked your body so hard. He lovingly caressed your back with his fingertips.

“We should get dressed so no one walks in on us like this.” You suggested.

[neostriatum]

Tathāgata

[AO3]

Tathāgata (Sanskrit: [tɐˈtʰaːɡɐtɐ]) is a Pali and Sanskrit word; Gautama Buddha uses it when referring to himself in the Pāli Canon. The term is often thought to mean either "one who has thus gone" (tathā-gata) or "one who has thus come" (tathā-āgata). This is interpreted as signifying that the Tathāgata is beyond all coming and going – beyond all transitory phenomena. [...]

The Buddha is quoted on numerous occasions in the Pali Canon as referring to himself as the Tathāgata instead of using the pronouns me, I or myself. This may be meant to emphasize by implication that the teaching is uttered by one who has transcended the human condition, one beyond the otherwise endless cycle of rebirth and death, i.e. beyond dukkha.

- Wikipedia

--

The news that trickled in of Obi-Wan was not, per se, of the man himself. It was a side-step, a whisper; gossip that pinched their brows and rumors that floated chills and prickled their hair. Their general existed in the refracted images of others, movement suspected but ultimately unseen.

Attacking Anaxes had been a calculated gamble – risky, but no more so than had become common in these later stages of the war. The first shrapnel of news had come in the grim voice of Echo, retrieved with the aid of frantically-overridden droids, the trooper’s words coming through in staticky bursts of instructions to save themselves.

It had been, rather ironically, a trap. Mace had mused the words from under the worried hand he had clasped to his mouth, hidden for the few moments he could debrief privately with Rex. They shared a chuckle, breathless from the rigor of recent battle, too strung up on the tenterhooks of its accompanying fear to accept it. Echo had elected to stay behind, determined to find their general.

Mace, if he allowed the thoughts to float too high to the surface, could remember the press of Obi-Wan’s mind as he was shoved out of the complex. It branded his nerves, felt too cauterized for the Force to flow smoothly. Skywalker’s eyes reflected that jagged edge, in the way his hands were too quick to draw a saber alight with rage, the thunder of his steps when an enemy drew close enough for combat. The same burn prickled under his skin, the lure of Vapaad snapping at his fingertips and hissing to be brought to the fore.

With Obi-Wan presumed dead and Echo might as well be, the war tread a delicate line of completion. Anger burned and burned, difficult to snuff into acceptable parameters – it gratified the Jedi little to hear of Dooku’s offense, for it was his general that dealt Obi-Wan’s death by opportunistic proxy. The 212th had turned insatiable, a thirst shared by Mace as he led them, with the 501st and their own Jedi, into battles that swept the region.

The quiet notes of Yoda’s caution had slipped through the haze, grief-limned wisdom salting the wounds. Stiff-lipped, Mace had acknowledged the news sinking into the public’s mind, their fear that the GAR was fracturing along the lines of the Temple’s grief, a destruction total enough to stir the Chancellor’s concern.

Their only surprise to that news had been the twitch of Skywalker’s lips, his firm response that the Chancellor need not worry, for they were only seeking leads into the CIS’ activity. For a moment, the lurking rage had eased, pushed back by the bright spark that was the knight’s determination. It was light – Light that broke through those clouds, releasing the clench of fear that trudged behind the swift strokes of their blades thus far. Mace had nodded, throwing his faith behind the young man’s words.

And so they had prowled, sweeping through enemy territory with a single-minded resolve fuelled by wildfire strength. Droids met them with faltering resistance, Echo’s voice patching through their mouthpieces, or elsewise words so familiar he could tell the troopers restrained tears of yearning for their faraway brother’s company.

And so their ghost in the machine guided the way, vengeance fulfilled with every Separatist plan shattered. The others on the High Council directed their efforts toward relief and diplomacy in their wake – bemoaning with faded smile that their efforts were no match for the brilliance of their erstwhile High General – throwing their weight into repairing the fractures this war had impressed upon the Republic, troopers slowly shifting arms into tools, a slow-moving fervor that Mace would be frustrated with if not for the turning tide of chatter propagated by journalists who were now able to see the full force of the GAR in a way that was constructive, rather than destructive.

It was this flicker of hope that banished the worst pains of grief rent by Obi-Wan’s death, and he had hoped the man’s spirit would be appeased by that – that his death had engendered change, powerful enough to set into motion the end of the war.

They mourned, yes, for each brother fallen, but now the warbling hum of an ignited saber tempered the brutal tilt to Skywalker’s brow, helped along by the steadfast companionship of his troops no matter the sleet or fire they faced on the battle fields Echo led them to. It was progress, ticking by slowly, and it wasn’t until the droids one day beheld their brother’s voice with the high tones of panic that they yet again changed tracks.

General Grievous had perished, only later finding out that he had been holed up on Utapau. The wounds were consistent with a lightsaber, which sent the news holos tittering, but Dooku had vehemently claimed that there was no point in murdering his top general. Republic Intelligence corroborated, insofar as they could, that neither Asajj nor Maul had movements tracked to Grievous’ fleet. It was a mystery only heightened by Echo’s confused muttering on the data as he assimilated it into his database of CIS tactics and politics.

The news had riled Anakin into a state, something that took coordinated efforts between his troops and Mace, and he was uncertain as to his angle of approach. There was still bad blood between him and the knight, though with the advice whispered by Rex and hesitatingly confirmed by others close to the knight, he elected to slip a message to the good senator. Between one blind eye and another, the man had calmed enough to confirm what he himself had suspected – those marks bore the form of Soresu, with an efficiency that Anakin had the experience to claim was his master’s unique variant.

That he had murmured, away from the men's earshot, that things did not feel right, strung a deep unease down his spine. Echo was silent, pulled away by something that appeared important, however unknown its connection to the increasing frequency of oddities occurring between their onslaught of the CIS.

It was little comfort that their public image was receiving a good polish, for all that it allowed the Order to reduce the amount of effort needed to deflect the political jabs upon their back. No death by a thousand cuts was helpful, and being able to focus their attention upon the GAR, the war – the one that the press had seemed to have had deluded themselves over, allowed them to take back the space their enemies had so deeply encroached upon.

With time, news – that in retrospect, were clues indicative of a spectre beloved by them – cluttered themselves together into a clear path. Roughened and weary by the intense, high-strung pace that the 212th and 501st had acclimated the 91st to, it took a rare moment of meditation to capture the thought into a crystallized whole.

The blast had been total, all-encompassing in a way that couldn’t check for a body. In that respect, Admiral Trench had done his job incredibly well; a detonation using a fusion reactor to enhance the damage it could wreak was deadly, and capable of wiping clean any evidence caught in its reach. Anakin had raged for days, caught in the throes of grief that rippled through the troops to Mace himself, a fast-growing briar that threatened to drown them one prick of cholermaniadolority at a time.

It had been a struggle to pull themselves from his morass. Broaching the memories of pulling himself and then others out, the Force a chthonic ocean that trembled with the threat of unrepentantly swallowing them whole, still made him shy away from the sensations associated with that day. Perhaps that had been why none of them had bothered to ruminate upon the events on Anaxes where things had gone so wrong.

When they had found Ahsoka entire systems away and right under their noses, the competing pull of emotions thriving in the Force had made his knees weak, wave after wave of joy and relief and grief commingling as Anakin had pushed his way to the bridge with a desperation borne of family long-lost and luckily found. The news of Obi-Wan had by then reached deeply into the public consciousness, though in the quiet corridors of the Temple, the young woman had confided that she had felt her grandmaster’s unique spark vanish from reach at the same time Anakin’s grief had pummeled her senses.

She, too, had shied away from the Force, her master’s presence overwhelming with its static, persistent imprints of Anaxes. With sabers back in hand, she had preferred to join their fight, a brightly lit spirit helping to guide their way toward peace. In that way, she upheld the tenets of both masters, balancing her lineage with a newly-wizened gaze.

Perhaps they had been wrong, to loosen their faith in the Force upon such an important occasion, instead of clenching tightly to hope where hope was needed most.

He sucked in a breath, unfolding himself from the lotus pose he had chosen some hours ago, his connection to the Force ephemeral as the euphoria of his revelation was replaced with the urgency to see if these points of refraction were indeed true. Emotionally, yes, but logically- his saber was clipped quickly to his belt, footsteps an urgent and discordant echo to his perception of the surrounding space.

Ahsoka intercepted his path. She caught his mood quickly, falling into step with a grace that belied her rapidly-gained experience upon the battlefield. Corridors seemed to zoom past him, and so absorbed was he with reaching the comm center that their entrance to its room startled him.

“Master?” The Padawan beside him asked curiously. Perhaps, like her master, she had already intuited what he had not processed of his own mind. Regardless, he shook his head, allowing the Force to guide his fingers in pressing buttons, sending a message to… possibly not nowhere.

Proceeding apace had accrued the attention of others who had witnessed their path, blinding spots of light on the periphery of Mace’s attention. He resisted the urge to wave them away with a fleeting thought, absorbed in the way the electricity twined with the Force, himself a conduit to what he hoped desperately was not the dead.

Silence, upon the last entry. He felt drained, emptied, yet pinned awake. Look, look, it whispered to him, as the line sparked to life with a successful connection, Watch.

An image of Echo blazed to life, the blue filter obscuring how pale he knew objectively the man had become. He had a gobsmacked look on his face, likely matching the one upon Mace’s own, and with a flicker of attention he noticed a finger poised on the man’s corresponding call button. “Sir,” He announced faintly, “I was just about to call you.”

A pause. Mace inhaled, oxygen blooming in his bloodstream as the recycled air flooded in, sending sparks of connections across his synapses. “So you were.”

Echo floundered, eventually shutting his mouth with a decided click. “Well.” He announced, perhaps a notch higher than his surprise actually warranted. Mace grimaced with the urge to press a hand to his temple, pain pressing against the boundaries of his skull as Ahsoka attempted to gauge his stability. He waved off both, rolling it into a gesture for the trooper to continue, “Well. I… suppose while we’re here – I found something.”

The brevity was in itself an indication of importance, for the renegotiated duties had granted a depth of confidence Mace was told the other had previously cautioned himself against. He straightened, feeling the other sparks of minds doing the same with a synchronized attention that overlaid the Force’s tendrils of watch, watch, watch.

In to the picture stepped a ghost- no, no ghost. His voice was struck from his thoughts, familiar upswelling of grief closing throat and thought apiece. It was only the broken voice of the man’s grandpadawan that slipped new life into his body, overturning the plummeting swoop of his stomach.

“Master Obi-Wan.” It was the jubilant shock, tear-streaked and grateful, that was representative of them all. The tone had stripped all brevity of war away from the young woman, baring how deeply the wound of the man’s presumed depth had scarred them. Ahsoka reached a hand forward, as if the mere intention to touch could confirm to her physical senses that the image presented to them was indeed real.

As it were, the projection flickered at the interruption, and Mace felt the echo of grief rupture across his senses anew. He reached out, grasping the young Togruta’s trembling hand to draw it away, a soothing tilt to his mind as he corralled her into his side. It proved comforting, slowing the turbulent waves of her emotions tumbling forth into the Force as she sequestered herself into the voluminous folds of his cloak. It allowed him a point of focus, and he nodded to the troopers gazing at him pleadingly for guidance before looking back to the man looking at them in concern.

“Obi-Wan,” Mace greeted him, enveloping his own trembling timbre in a guise of demure joy. He doubted his control was sufficient, if the shocked look cast across the other master’s face was anything to go by – he inhaled, tried again, casting aside his habitual veneer to properly express his delight, “Obi-Wan. It is good to see you alive, my friend. The Force was not the same without you.”

The gobsmacked look didn’t dissipate, and the man in question looked lost. Echo took over, voice crisp despite the concern glances ticking periodically over Obi-Wan’s form, as if he didn’t quite believe the sight himself.

“Sir,” He reported, albeit with a sardonic lilt that soon became apparent why, “General Kenobi survived the blast. He was recently able to extricate himself from CIS strongholds and collect intelligence on troop movements and overarching plans of attack.”

Holding up a data stick, the trooper continued, “The general managed to hack into several systems and reroute them with false information – this explains some of the aberrations with their movements and droid behaviour, as he made changes to their code that altered their analytical processes.” Echo shrugged at the way Ahsoka stirred at the news, her eyes bright and sharp with curiosity, “It does explain why we’ve been able to take back so much territory so quickly. He copied all changes and as many plans as he could from Grievous’ personal system, before, ah. Killing him.”

Despite the way Obi-Wan looked a hairsbreadth from toppling over out of sheer exhaustion, his white-knuckled grip upon Echo’s chair the only thing that might be keeping the man upright, his smirk – so familiar, so reminiscent of his boyhood joy at success in the face of difficulty – at the trooper’s recounting of events punched the air out of Mace’s lungs and pricked tears at his eyes. Accomplishing the impossible yet again, little padawan, He thought fondly, starkly aware of this padawan having grown into a fine man with his own illustrious lineage, Qui-Gon ought to be proud to see it.

Outwardly, he did naught more than beam with pride, too exuberant at proof of the man’s continued presence among the living to bother with the usual demure demeanour being a Jedi demanded of him. “Excellent work, Obi-Wan,” He praised, seeing the fleeting softening of the man’s expression at such blatant support in front of non-Jedi. No more, he promised himself, No more withholding emotions for the sake of our Code. Obi-Wan deserves better than that. Gentling his tone, as if the one before them was still a padawan and not the man who survived an overpowered bomb at point-blank range, “Now- go rest. I’ll call you later, all right?”

With a weary nod, as if he had been but awaiting permission to stop what looked to have been a maniacal pace, Obi-Wan clasped a hand to Echo’s shoulder and said to Mace, “May the Force be with you, Master.”

He nodded, throat tight, “May the Force be with you.”

They all watched with bated breath as Echo watched the man trundle off-screen, presumably until he left whatever room Echo had holed himself up in for working, the trooper’s expression sharp despite the perpetual weariness ringing around his eyes. After a beat, where they heard the faint swoosh of a door closing, the trooper turned back to them.

“His midichlorian count was nearly depleted after Anaxes,” Echo said flatly, the set of his face closing off. Ahsoka tightened her grip upon his cloak, twisting it in her grasp as Mace and the troopers stiffened at the news, “It has slowly been repopulating itself, but so far his levels are not nearly what has been recorded by Medical. Whatever protected him from that blast – Obi-Wan told me that he barely had enough time to warn you, General Windu, much less try to protect himself – took its pound of flesh from him.”

An image flashed across his mind, scarcely slow enough to register the impression of a woman in green and tasting of a mind not his own. Ahsoka gasped, breaking from his grasp to stare at him and wave an arm around excitedly, as if too energized to contain herself. “The Daughter!” She exclaimed, “Master, I think I know how he survived!”

“Ahsoka, what-”

But she had found her track, turning on a heel and tapping awake the comm unit on her wrist, “Skyguy! Skyguy, where are you?”

Mace found himself caught between Echo’s bewildered expression and the padawan marching off toward what was presumably Skywalker’s location aboard the ship. The trooper waved him off, amusement catching at the corners of his mouth, “I’ll be sending over the data packet in a second. That was my only update, anyway.”

With a nod of gratitude, he turned to follow the young padawan. Ahsoka had gone further than he expected, already deep within the bowels of the ship – toward the hangar, where both knew her master liked to spend his spare time nowadays. Though there was a palpable calm since his tête-à-tête with the Chancellor and whatever Senator Amidala had said forthrightly said, a thread of anxiety from the war’s course was always present, and Mace approved of how he had found solace in the minutiae of repair work and maintenance.

In a bout of aplomb worthy of mimicking her master, Ahsoka strode into the room with a pace close to running and announced herself with a shout, “He’s alive!”

Mace grimaced his way through the accompanying fluctuation that was Anakin’s emotions stampeding through the Force, feeling very much like he was on a ship in turbulent seas, before the clang of hydrospanner dropping to the floor registered to his more mundane senses. Its high pitch reverberated in his ears; he sighed, following the Togruta’s trail at a more sedate pace, nodding at the desperate expression that stole over the young man’s face.

“It’s true,” He confirmed, hoping his voice landed in the timbre of reassuring that Anakin sought. “Echo had just delivered his report – I saw Master Kenobi with my own eyes.”

Like the silence before a hyperspace jump, Anakin inhaled sharply. Even Ahsoka had paused, posture patiently cautious as they waited for Anakin’s trembling presence in the Force to still as he sought out his master’s own signature. For all that Mace knew he would find nothing (or perhaps this child had enough strength to seek out his heart’s desires, now that he knew it was possible under his own power), it was still a bracing sight for his gaze to turn tear-struck towards him, betrayal quickly etching itself onto the other’s features.

“You said-”

“It’s true,” He repeated firmly. Anakin deflated, uncomprehending in the face of such conflicting information, the movement making Ahsoka look toward him in askance for guidance. Mace needed to remind himself that she wasn’t there for the first influx of grief her master had displayed immediately after the Battle of Anaxes, and that they both needed the gentle wisdom he mantled himself in as Master of the Order.

Approaching slowly, toward first Ahsoka and then her distraught master, he knelt before Anakin and placed a hand on the young man’s shoulder. This would be difficult news, and there was no easy way to deliver it. “Master Kenobi survived the blast, but his midichlorian count dropped to very low levels – beyond our ability to detect him.” He said, squeezing Anakin’s shoulder when a disbelieving sob rippled through him, a worrying but faint echo of Anaxes, “Echo has compiled a report of what he knows so far about the situation.”

Mace waited until the knight rested a hand upon his arm, until shattered, red-rimmed eyes met his own. The man’s padawan had shuffled closer, burrowing herself into her master’s side – it seemed to help, the way both of them settled and their presences smoothed out into something more closely resembling calm. The juxtaposed memory of how Obi-Wan had looked, noticeably pale even in the blue light of the holo, gaunt and world-weary, coaxed him into a quiet tone out of dolorous respect.

“Now is our time to help him,” He murmured to both of them, threading the idea through the Force as well in a light layer of suggestion, “He has done so much for all of us, and he needs help to recuperate from this ordeal.”

After a beat, whereby Mace could feel how the young man turned inward, tugging his spirit around Ahsoka’s and encapsulating the other’s Force presence from Mace’s senses in an absent movement, Anakin nodded.

“Alright,” The knight rasped, looking from Ahsoka back to Mace, “What do I need to do?”

He smiled, withdrawing in order to stand. “For now, make sure you and your padawan are rested,” The proposition was met with the tick of a smile, already turning toward his own padawan to coax her to standing, “I’ll see to it that a copy of the report is sent to your datapad.”

Ahsoka murmured wearily as she was shuffled upright, the lull of Anakin’s protectiveness buffering the adrenaline that must have drained out of her from Echo’s announcement. He paused to make sure they were on their own way to sleep, clasping a hand to Anakin’s shoulder when the other cast him a look of gratitude. The Force settled into a calm sea, lending him a strange feeling of lightness that Mace realized he hadn’t felt in a very long time.

--

Extracting Obi-Wan from Echo’s position was more difficult than the trooper had made it out to be – though in all fairness, the wry tone should have been ample warning. As it were, the sense of humor was bolstering, and perhaps Mace had let it buoy him over the logistics that was transporting a High General from enemy territory.

The devil is in the details, he mused to himself, gesturing for Ponds to direct Ghost Company to their newest set of coordinates.

It was enough of a risk to enter the last strongholds of CIS territory, but given the new information, all of them had voted that the drawbacks were acceptable. Dooku, for all that Echo and Clone Intelligence had been able to dig up, was uncharacteristically withdrawn from daily life as head of the Separatists. Rumor had been floating through the chatter that there was friction between him and Darth Sidious.

He knew that the Council of First Knowledge had been able to corroborate little, other than some movement on bounty hunters that seemed unusual. Waiting on that particular report would have shrunk their window of opportunity – Echo had cautioned against waiting too long, especially after updating his medical databases with what the Temple knew of Force afflictions.

Ahsoka had been keen on coordinating with the Healers, volunteering to head back to Coruscant to help Jocasta consolidate data packets, and Anakin, equally as keen on keeping one half of his immediate family within eyesight, had followed. He had sat through what he privately thought was an amusing ramble about Obi-Wan’s favourite and least favourite things before being “released” by the timely intervention of Commander Rex.

As if I hadn’t known him since he was in the crèche, Mace thought, brushing off the inquisitive thought from Ponds that filtered through. Yoda had caught wind of the more subtle particulars of their plan, and with a bubble of mirth, he hoped Obi-Wan was prepared to be indulged with every food the Grandmaster remembered him liking since his teeth first grew in. He’ll be hale, hearty, and thoroughly sick of another muja fruit doughnut for at least a year.

Unlikely, given the man’s sweet tooth, but Mace supposed that everyone would turn a polite eye the next time Senator Amidala loudly announced that she wanted to see the newest bakery on Coruscant, and would it be too troubling to ask for an escort who knew the area better? Both of them had bonded over their love of any and all fruit-based sweets, for all that they were frequently pulled away by their respective duties.

Perhaps it would be good to once again blandly inspect the troop roster as if it were the most riveting thing in the galaxy; their High General deserved the break.

With that thought in mind, Mace confirmed that everyone was in position, and set off to one of the last strongholds of the Separatists.

--

Obi-Wan was lighter than he originally suspected, and the fact itself was incredibly worrying. They took turns with the man, blithely ignoring the periodic, albeit weak, protests he muttered about being able to walk just fine. One of them had the foresight to smuggle in some food for the mission, and that seemed to sate the flickering annoyance etched into their general’s wearied face.

Echo was a calm voice in their ears, having absconded with a few droids willing to volunteer their way to emancipation. It made for some amusing conversation – Boil seemed to have found a common point with several of them, swapping stories and discussing places they’ve been deployed to. The conversation was light, a chattering interspersed with laughter or exclamations of disbelief. Privately, Mace thought that if this had happened sooner in the war, there wouldn’t have been a war to fight over.

As it were, they still had a long trek ahead of them. The droids stuck around, abetting them in navigating their host territory with the sporadic suggestion of lines from Echo. They tittered periodically, and Mace could only presume that they had their own connection to Echo that facilitated the least amount of contact with supervisor and tactical droids that couldn’t be swayed by clone or Jedi negotiations. It was both ingenious and impressive, and the long stretches of hallways and absconded ships were swiftly covered while Obi-Wan drifted in and out of consciousness.

The battle he had fought – so far from any support – had been draining and tedious. Mace could scarcely fathom being forced to navigate enemy territory with a single-minded goal fed by a powerful, scarcely-remembered entity that stifled his connection with the Force as a means of protection. Truly, it was a trial by fire, and by the slant of the other’s brow, incredibly lonely.

He resisted the urge to rest a hand against Obi-Wan, testing for himself that he was alive, if not “well” by the strictest of definitions. It was a sentiment shared by the troopers, and they all settled for concerned looks when Obi-Wan was most unaware of their gazes. That he currently couldn’t track their thoughts without significant effort was something he guiltily took advantage of, skimming his mind over the most superficial aspects of the man’s presence in the Force whenever his thoughts became too dour over Echo’s report.

It took several ships and outright falsified transmissions before Mace and Ponds were able to bundle everyone past the border. As exhausted as they all were, each of them refusing to take more than the scantest of rests, still they chose to move quietly as Obi-Wan slumbered on.

The gossip had circulated quickly, Cody and Ghost Company confirming that their general belayed suggestions to sleep as often as possible – to the point of borrowing energy from the Force when the man thought it necessary to protect his troops. It was a convincingly-put argument to tread as if the slightest breath would wake the man; such bone-deep exhaustion could only be remedied by an equally deep bout of sleep, and Mace was proud to witness the men’s gentle handling of Obi-Wan when they rotated who carried him.

Only after coordinating the briefing’s contents for the Temple with Ponds and Cody did Mace allow himself to exit the bridge, gait slow and unsteady with the consistent prickle of adrenaline wearing him out. Those he passed were content to nod in greeting, sensing that he was passing responsibility as point-person for their safety to the Marshall Commanders by retiring for some well-needed sleep.

He yawned, sliding the door open with a faint tick of his fingers. Even his cloak felt leaden, every swish of the woven fabric coaxing him to sway between the bulkheads.

The Force felt calm, a still water that reflected the light. It plucked at the last knots of his tension, undoing the little anxieties that had borne him through this mission with a warm touch that shed the last sharp edges of fear. No longer did he worry that they would be too late to help Obi-Wan, frantically searching for him only to find either a cooling corpse or near-as – not now, with the man slumbering quietly in a bundle of blankets tucked around him that shifted with every breath.

A sigh filtered through him, a tacit end to the impromptu meditation that bled the last of the tension from his lungs. It was a simple thing, now, to slide off his boots next to the bed and float his saber to land with a gentle clack upon a shelf. Though Obi-Wan was but a faint glimmer in the Force right now, Mace knew the man would eventually recuperate to his former strength – and that this time, he would need never experience such harrowing isolation again.

With the knowledge that this war of theirs was effectively over, Mace shuffled carefully into the gap beside Obi-Wan, awaiting dreams already pulling his eyes shut as he listened to the even breaths of their erstwhile Jedi. He would leave tomorrow’s problems for tomorrow, he decided, content in the knowledge that a dear friend found his way back to them.

--

Author's Notes

"cholermaniadolority" - Choler, mania, and dolority. Choler is one of the "four temperaments", mania is... the popular definition but also the goddess, and the last is a back-formation of dolorous that interestingly was also used in the poem the lady rebukes her knight for dolority of soul by heelers. The poem doesn't directly go parallel the events of the story, but I did think a lot of the themes resonated with Obi-Wan as a character.

Muja fruit - I needed to pick a fruit, and this one seems to be pretty common. Quite interestingly, Dex served Muja-filled donuts at his diner! I imagine Obi-Wan likes his share of sweets, and this would be an easily-accessible one for him.

[axoxtxhxh]

Can’t it be You? - Chapter 10

Summary: Reader surprises Kinjou with some special people to try and cheer him up. While Kinjou finally agrees to pick up come clothes from his dorm, something unexpected happens that makes them confront their feelings for each other.

Kinjou x Fem!Reader NSFW

Warnings: Sex, Oral (for like 5 seconds, but it’s there)

Word Count: ~ 2,900

A/N: I apologize. I have no idea where this story is going. I am just living out my Kinjou fantasies here.

Y/N was pulling into the parking lot of the park. Kinjou had been silent most of the ride, but then again, she could have chosen to speak up, but after the kiss they had yesterday and then brushing off any advances he made after that, she figured he was either confused or frustrated, possibly both.

“You probably should have changed,” she mentioned.

“What’s the point?”

He still wore the same sweatpants he first changed into on Monday, but he added one of her t-shirts. It was definitely a bit tight and quite short on him. She kind of liked the look, but she was sure he wasn’t going to be happy with the choice in a couple minutes.

“I can only do light riding anyway.” He sighed.

She pulled into the parking spot and recognized a familiar face, hoping that Kinjou hadn’t seen him yet. They got out of the car and Kinjou started pulling the bikes down from the bike rack and setting them next to Y/N. She quickly peeked over at the group and Imaizumi waved to her and she tried to wave back discreetly so Kinjou couldn’t see.

“I’ll let you choose which path you want to take.” She smiled and he looked up from the bikes, checking the three different directions one-by-one. When his eyes reached the third path, his eyebrows came together, slowly recognizing someone familiar with long, green hair.

“Is that Maki…” His voice trailed off as he recognized more people in the group.

His eyes were wide when he looked back at Y/N and he saw her smiling.

“My team…” He whispered. “Did you know? Did you do this?”

“I had Imaizumi’s help.” She nodded and grabbed his hand. “Come on, leave the bikes. Let’s go say hi first.”

She pulled him forward, turning to walk to them, then suddenly felt his arms move around her waist, pulling her into a back hug and wrapping his arms tightly around her. His lips went to her cheek and neck and he peppered her with quick kisses, making her giggle and squirm in his arms. She definitely shouldn’t have been enjoying it, but she was. She was loving it.

“Thank you,” he whispered to her, placing one more kiss on her cheek.

“Go say hi.” She smiled.

“Come with me.” The softness in his eyes at that moment was killing her. She could genuinely see how happy he was.

“You go first, let me take care of the bikes.” She nudged him forward and he gave her a smile then backed up, turning around to meet up with them. She sighed, so happy that he was happy.

They rode around for a good couple of hours, taking breaks when Kinjou needed them and decided they would all go out to eat that night. The plan was to meet later at night at the restaurant they decided. So Y/N and Kinjou quickly put the bikes back on the rack on her car and headed back to shower and change.

“I can’t believe you did this for me,” he said once they were sitting in the car.

“Was it fun?” She smiled at him.

“So fun.” He grabbed her hand and held onto it. “You’re amazing.”

“Can we get you some of your clothes now?”

“Sure.” He laughed. “It was actually pretty uncomfortable riding without underwear.”

Y/N blushed, pulling out of the parking lot.

They pulled up to Kinjou’s dorm and she parked out front. Spring break was a quiet time on their campus since most students go home or go on vacation. Y/N had some work to do on campus so she was never able to take trips and the guys almost always had a race during the break which kept them on campus. The plus side was they didn’t have to do a lot of waiting for things since there weren’t many people around.

“Do you want to come up with me?” He asked, unbuckling his seatbelt.

“Okay.” She turned off her car and stepped out. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen your dorm.”

“Well, it hasn’t changed much.” They walked up the path to the front door. Kinjou’s dorm room was on the eighth floor.

The last time Y/N had probably been up there was last year for Kinjou’s birthday party. They didn’t celebrate it in the dorms, usually that sort of stuff was at her apartment since it was the biggest, but she was the one to go pick him up for the surprise.

He typed in his code and the door beeped to let them in. He quickly went to his side of the room and looked around for a backpack to pack some clothes.

Y/N walked in and looked around. He was right, it really did look the same as when she was last here. His bed and desk were in the same spot, though his roommate shifted his side around a little bit.

“Is your roommate the same?” She asked, moving to his desk to watch him. “It looks like he’s gotten cleaner.”

“Yeah, he hasn’t.” Kinjou laughed. “He is visiting home so a lot of his stuff is gone.”

He continued moving through his dresser to pack clothes, having a better idea of the things he might need to bring now that it’s been a couple days.

Y/N turned around and looked at the board he had hanging above his desk. Kinjou was always really organized so his calendar was neat and completely up-to-date with the next few weeks of activities. He also had a bunch of photos of him and his friends, mainly her and Shinkai.

Kinjou moved to the bathroom to get the things he needed from there next while she continued looking at the photos. One in particular stood out to her. It was taken the day her team won their regional race and Kinjou came out to support her. She remembers it clearly because everyone was asking her if he was her boyfriend since he had travelled so far just to support them, but at the time she was dating Shinkai. Either way, someone had taken their photo at dinner and he kept it, hanging it on his wall. She pulled it down and instinctively flipped it over. On the back was a small heart.

She heard him coming back in the room and quickly hung the photograph back on his board, smiling to herself.

“Looking at the photos?” He asked, stopping behind her and looking. She could feel his warmth pouring off of him and settling on her back. “Remember this one?’

He chuckled and pointed to a photo of her, himself and Shinkai from her birthday. She had the same one on her fridge. The three of them looked so happy and it made her smile.

“This one too.” He leaned forward to point to another photo. Y/N didn’t know which photo he was pointing to because she couldn’t pay attention to it at all. In order for Kinjou to point to it, he rested his hand on her hip and leaned so far forward that his body was against her back and she couldn’t get her mind to focus on anything but his body against hers.

Her hand moved behind her and rested on his hip and she could feel his body tense up, a wave of heat rolling over him. She was still looking at the cork board in front of them, but her mind wasn’t there. He turned to look at her, his face moving closer to her neck and the hand he was pointing with went to her waist.

“Y/N…” he whispered. His voice so close to her ear. She turned her head just enough to see how close his face was before fully turning herself to face him. She looked in his eyes, but quickly moved her focus down to his lips and that was enough of an invitation for him to kiss her.

There was nothing slow about the kiss. They started hard and went harder, their mouths already shiny with saliva as the kiss made its way to sloppy. She set her hand on his stomach, wanting to go further, but hesitating because if she went further, then they were definitely going the rest of the way. But it was too much to resist and she slipped her hand just below the waistband of his pants and gripped his already exceptionally hard erection and Kinjou groaned, hips jerking forward.

“Kinjou, can I—”

“Yes, y—es. Anything.” He quickly muttered, desperate for more of her. His hips jerked again as she slid her thumb over his tip. He rested his head on her shoulder and his hands on the desk behind her, groaning as his eyes rolled back with each stroke of her hand.

She brought her lips back to his and he stood up, hands moving to her cheeks to hold the kiss longer, moaning into her mouth.

“Can you take your pants off?” He breathed, backing up a little as she slid her pants and underwear off and put them to the side. Kinjou picked her up and set her on his desk, dropping down to his knees and, with her feet on his shoulders, pulling her close, burying himself in her warmth.

Y/N could do nothing but grab his hair as his tongue quickly and roughly, but oh so perfectly made its way through her folds, hitting her clit just right. Her heart was about to fly out of her chest, her face so hot and vison blurry with how badly she wanted him.

She really, really hoped that the walls here were thick enough because both of them were being extremely loud and the last thing they needed was someone coming to complain. She rubbed over his scalp as he got her closer and closer and she wanted to look down at him so badly, knowing that if she did, she would probably come right away.

It didn’t matter. Reaching orgasm was the goal, right? She lowered her eyes, half-expecting to meet his looking back up at her. Instead she was blessed with the mouthwatering sight of Kinjou losing himself in her. He was gone. Enjoying giving it almost as much as she was enjoying receiving it, he was completely lost in the pleasure of pleasuring her. His tongue, his lips, they were all over her. He moaned into her, slowly bringing her hips closer to get even deeper and she threw her head back with a groan.

“God, Kinjou just get inside of me, please.” He pulled back a little and looked at her. Her head was thrown back, her bottom lip in her mouth and her body was shaking. He stood up, sliding the front of his sweatpants down and leaning forward.

The desk was too short for him to comfortably reach her so he kept trying to work at different angles with none of them working. Y/N noticed, hopping off the desk and turning around, pushing her butt towards him.

Kinjou couldn’t move, his hands just held her hips from behind and he massaged her skin, feeling the soft warmth under his hands. He moved to her waist and slid under her shirt, caressing her ribs, his fingers barely grazing the bottom of her breasts.

“Kinjou?”

“Sorry.”

She balanced her arms on the desk and waited as Kinjou stroked himself a couple times before sliding in. She was so wet, it took nothing at all and he groaned as his hips rested flush against her butt.

“Can I start moving?” He moaned through clenched teeth, squeezing her hips. It was already too much, she was so wet.

“Mmhm.” Y/N pushed her butt back into him and they both groaned.

Kinjou pulled out and slammed back in, groaning loudly as he repeated the motion. He was barely a handful of thrusts in before he felt like he could come. There was absolutely no way they could take their time with this, not when he was this close.

“I’m close,” she whined.

“Oh, thank God.” Kinjou picked up his speed, thrusting deeply and quickly. He pulled her upper body up against him, getting a different angle and held her shoulder, just near the base of her neck, bringing his lips to the other side. He was met with a bunch of her shirt fabric and quickly unzipped it, pulling it off her shoulder and moving his lips back and sucking her skin.

She knew what he was doing and she didn’t even care. He was thrusting so perfect into her, filling her up and sliding over every sensitive part in her body. He could suck her entire neck purple for all she cared. She reached around and held the back of his head.

His hips were starting to falter and he knew this wasn’t going to last much longer. He reached his hand down to massage over her clit and her hips jerked back, somehow pushing him deeper into her.

“God, I love being inside of you.” His voice was quiet and words choked out. He brought his face to the crook of her neck, licking and sucking in just the spot she liked until she strangled out a whine and Kinjou felt the full weight of her in his arms as she shook with pleasure. He did his best to hold her up comfortably, but his focus was entirely on how good she felt twitching around his cock until he was coming with her.

He held them both, balancing himself with his hand against the wall as his entire body shook, his vision going white and his hips automatically thrusting forward until his muscles gave out, relaxed and fatigued.

They were both still panting when the keypad of his door made a sound like someone was trying to come in.

“Shit!” Y/N quickly grabbed her pants and ran into the bathroom as Kinjou pulled his sweatpants back up, moving to his dresser to pretend to pack.

“Kinjou!” His roommate walked in. “I haven’t seen you for a couple days.”

“Yeah, sorry, Greg.” Kinjou half turned, trying to keep his groin covered, not really sure what it looked like down there. It could have been soaked for all he knew. “I’ve been staying with a friend.”

Kinjou’s hands were shaking as he pointlessly folded a t-shirt and threw it in his bag on the floor.

“Cool, cool.” Greg ran over to his dresser and grabbed something from the top drawer.

“I thought you were going to be gone for Spring Break.” Kinjou mentioned, barely able to hold himself up on his still very wobbly legs.

“Ah, yeah, I’m leaving today. Now actually. Just needed to grab my charger.” He closed his drawer.

Y/N could hear chatting outside the door. It must be Kinjou’s roommate, but she was sure he said that he went home for break. She had thrown on her pants so fast, not sure if someone was going to come in after her, that now she sat on the ledge of the tub waiting, her hands and legs shaking from anxiety… partly from anxiety.

She couldn’t believe what had just happened. All this time of her trying to hold herself back and not make a move, trying not to talk to Kinjou, trying not to touch Kinjou, trying not to even think about Kinjou and they’ve been in his dorm room for not even ten minutes and they already had sex. She rested her forehead on the heel of her hands.

Kinjou said bye and closed the door behind his roommate. His legs were still shaking and he turned around, resting his back against the door. He looked down at his crotch. Surprisingly, from the outside everything looked okay. It was under his pants that looked messy and he moved to the bathroom to clean up.

He stopped before knocking on the door, resting his head against it as he prepared himself for what he knew was about to come. Y/N was going to object and criticize what just happened and tell them they couldn’t do it anymore. Whatever her reasoning was, it didn’t matter whether he understood it or not, or whether she was consistent with it or not, she kept going back to it and it always seemed to come after they made any progress at all towards a relationship.

That morning kiss they almost had before Shinkai walked in, the kiss and almost something more they shared in the pool the day before, and now, having sex in his dorm before his roommate walked in. Why did he have to walk in? He clenched his jaw.

Y/N stayed sitting on the tub, rubbing her face. The more she thought, the more she realized it didn’t matter. The whole reason for her not wanting to try anything was because they haven’t had the chance to talk about it. The only reason they needed to talk about it was because she wanted to explain her feelings and to hear his explanation of his feelings, but if they both had sex, doesn’t that mean they are almost on the same page? Would that mean that they both at least wanted something to do with each other. Maybe they didn’t need to have an actual talk, but they just needed to tell each other how they feel.

Kinjou knocked, interrupting her thoughts, calling through the door while it was still closed.

“Y/N? You can come out. He left.”

She opened the door and stood back. Kinjou looked completely nervous, his face still pink and sweaty and his eyes on the floor.

“I’m sorry. I honestly had no idea he wasn’t leaving until today.” He started, his hands rubbing his thighs. “I would never have done anything if I had known, but I don’t think he—”

Y/N quickly crossed the length of the bathroom and grabbed him behind his neck, pulling him down and kissing him. There wasn’t really a reason for her to try and wait any longer. Standing in his bathroom, kissing him and him kissing her back made her realize that there probably wasn’t ever a reason for her to wait to begin with. She slowed the kiss and pulled back, watching as Kinjou tried to put words together.

“Wh…You ju—does… that was…” He gave up, pulling her back in to him and this time he controlled the kiss. His hands moved to her waist and cheek and he pulled her closer, his tongue wrestling around with hers.

Yeah, it really didn’t matter at all. All the waiting, all the being unsure of their feelings, all the times they were interrupted. None of it mattered because right now in his dorm room bathroom, he was kissing Y/N… and she was kissing him back.

“Kinjou, I like you.” She announced, pulling away from the kiss. “Now that I say it, it sounds stupid, like we’re in middle school, but—”

He moved his lips back over hers, smiling into the kiss then resting his forehead on hers.

“I like you too.” He kissed her again, lightly on the lips. Then again, and again, and again until they were both laughing and all they could do was hug.

Kinjou rubbed her back, kissing the top of her head and smiling against her as he sighed, perfectly content with where they were.

“Come on,” she said, looking up at him, “we don’t have a lot of time before dinner and I really need a shower.”

She grabbed his hand and they both walked back to the car.

[bunnyswriting]

That Darn Smile

Paring: Raihan x Reader

Content level: Just some cute fluff

Notes: Ooooo first story, wow I’m rusty lol. This got a lot longer than planned, but it’s no biggie. Anyways! Quick dragon man story, just some cute stuff, nothing major so far (also I had no beta reader and wrote this in the middle of the night)

Masterlist

It hadn’t been all that surprising to you when you got a sudden call from you good friend, Leon. The Galarian Champion had been your friend for quite some time now, ever since a trip you took to his home region six years ago to study under Professor Magnolia.

What did surprise you, however, was when you got in call and heard how frantic he was. You managed to calm him down and ended up getting into a video chat, knowing he found it easier to explain things to you when speaking face to face.

He explains it all to you: the upcoming finale of the Gym Challenge and the chairman who’d gone rogue and nearly destroyed to entire region by summoning an ancient legendary pokemon.

“Luckily there was a very talented young gym challenger with me- his name’s Victor, he’s more or less Hop’s rival. He was able to capture Eternatus but these last 24 hours have been absolutely…” he trailed off, trying to find the right words.

“Exhausting?” you offered with an understanding smile, leaning on your desk as you looked up at your floating rotom phone.

“Yes! And the Gym Challenge finale is still going to happen today, I’d never cancel it- but we have no idea what to do about the chairman. He’s turned himself in, as well as the majority of his staff who the police are considering his co-conspirators,” he continued on, taking off his signature sports cap and pushing his purple bangs back.

You mulled over everything he’d told you in your mind and sat back in your seat, glancing over when you heard a curious cooing noise besides you. You turn your head and meet the eyes of your trusted Dragonair who slithers besides you and lays her head on your shoulder.

You smile gently as you run a hand down her side before speaking again. “So, before you continue, let me guess what you’re going to say next. You’ll explain that there’s no one else to take on the position of chairman at this moment in time and you’ll need at least a temporary replacement until you can find someone to permanently fill the role. You’re coming to me, as both a friend and professional, in the hopes that I can perform the duty of chairman due to my experience running the Indigo League here in Kanto for the last two years,” you rattled off, and once you saw the somewhat-shocked look on Leon’s face, you knew you’d hit the mark.

A grin slowly makes its way onto his face and he quickly nods, “that’s exactly right, (name). Professor Oak’s already reached out to Magnolia in order to recommend you, and so has Juniper after your studies and work in Unova. So… will you do it?” he finally asks, and you can hear the slight desperation in his voice. 

You’re his best option right now.

“Well... it is the off season for the league in Kanto right now and the majority of our gym leaders are on vacation. I’ll still have to find someone to take over for me while I’m gone, but that shouldn’t be too hard, I’m sure I can get in touch with Oak’s grandson,” you mused, tapping a finger to your chin as you seemingly thought aloud. 

You glance back over at Leon and sigh, clasping your hands together with a cheeky smile. “Well Lee, just book me the next ticket out of Kanto and you’ve got yourself a temporary chairwoman.”

The man looks like he could practically jump up and out of his seat with excitement and he grins wildly, “Yes!! I won’t be able to thank you enough for this, (nickname)! I’ve already checked the tickets, there’s a flight at the airport just outside of Celadon city in a few hours, think you’ll be able to make it in time?”

“Oh it’s no issue, I can call a cab within the hour. I’ll be in Galar before you know it, you just go and get ready for that battle of yours, champ,” you assure him, excited for what’s to come.

The two of you exchange goodbyes and as soon as you end the call you jump up, bounding around your house and making all the necessary preparations. You pack a luggage bag of makeshift clothing, toiletries, and anything else you might need for at least two weeks of being abroad. You call Blue, Oak’s grandson, and let him know that you’ll be needing him to fill in for you for a little while- he has no issue with this, and accepts the job in his regular cocky fashion.

Before you know it you’re up in the air, your Dragonair settled into her pokeball on your hip, and you stare out the window and watch clouds and ocean go by as you imagine all that awaits you in Galar.

---

After a not very brief five hour flight you’d touched down in Wyndon airport, just a few miles north of the actual city itself. As soon as you step out of the plane and take your rotom phone off airplane mode, you’re bombarded with a sudden rush of notifications you hadn’t been able to receive while up in the sky.

You skim all your messages, a few were from Blue letting you know all was alright in Kanto, a few were from your family and friends wishing you a safe landing, and the more recent ones were from Leon letting you know he wouldn’t be able to pick you up from the airport himself.

You momentarily wonder why, but when you look around the sudden realization hits you.

Every person in the airport around you is glued to their phones, watching the little screens with excitement.

The Gym Challenge finale match was underway, it’d started as you were approaching Galar.

You reread Leon’s message and see he’d assured you that a friend of his would be there to pick you up instead.

With a shrug of your shoulders, you pat the pokeball on your belt to let your Dragonair know all is okay, before heading onto baggage claim to retrieve your luggage.

Minutes later you have you bag in tow, lugging it towards the exit. You walk out curiously, smiling as soon as you feel the bright sun on your skin, the crisp air refreshing you after hours of being cooped up. 

Curious, you glance around, searching for whoever might be here to pick you up. Leon never specified which friend it’d be picking you up, all he said was a ‘friend’, and if he wasn’t in the middle of a very important battle right now you would’ve already called him with questions. 

However, it doesn’t take you very long to figure out who your guide will be. 

Down the road a bit you’re able to spy a tall lad jogging in your general direction. His skin tone was on the darker side, and his fashion sense was rather flashy- with a bright orange bandanna around his head and a slightly oversized dragon themed jacket covering his torso.

You recognized him quickly; Raihan, Galar’s very own dragon tamer, and Leon’s longtime rival.

You decide to make it a bit easier for him and meet him halfway by walking towards him.

“(Name), hey, I’m-” he begins, but you’re quick to cut him off and spare his breath.

“Raihan, no need to introduce himself, as a fan of dragon-types there’s no way I wouldn’t know who you are. Also you’re a friend of Leon’s- or should I say rival? Maybe both,” you reply with a bit of a laugh.

Now that he’s standing before you you’re able to fully realize his height- and he practically towers over you. He looks down at you with a bright grin and you can practically feel the energy emanating off of him, but his eyes are what catch your attention the most.

They’re a striking and almost electric blue, and you don’t quite realize that you’re staring until he points it out himself.

“Enjoying the view, sweetheart?” he asks with a confident smirk, and you blush as you avert your eyes to the ground. 

He laughs a bit, and you pout at how he finds your embarrassment amusing. 

“Hey now, no need to be shy, I’ve heard a lot about you too- mostly from Leon, he thinks you’re a genius,” he explains, which makes you glance back up at him.

“Wait really? What’s he said-” you ask, interest piqued, but you’re cut off by a growling noise.

Your face flushes when you realize the noise came from your own stomach.

You and Raihan make eye contact before bursting into laughter, yours being a bit more shy as you wrap an arm around your stomach.

“I guess a five hour flight will leave your fuel tank pretty empty, huh?” you mutter, shoulders slouched.

A hand gets placed on your shoulder, making the blush on your cheeks somehow even redder, and you glance up to see Raihan smiling down at you, “no worries, happens to the best of us. I know a great cafe nearby, we can swing by for a bite to eat and maybe watch Leon’s match- if it hasn’t already ended, he tends to wipe out the competition.”

“Does the competition which gets wiped involve you?” you ask with a bit of a cheeky look, grinning when you see how the comment took him aback.

“Hey now, there’s a reason I’m the eighth gym leader, I’ve nearly beat Leon on several occasions,” he retorts, quick to defend his pride.

“Oh I have no doubt, you’ll have to let me see those dueling skills of yours,” you suggest, patting the pokeball on your hip.

The smile on his face is infectious, and you find yourself smiling up at him in return at no time.

---

An hour later you’re sat atop one of the hills in northern Wyndon, the stadium out in the distance. The sounds of the crowd can be heard miles away, but that’s not your main focus right now.

No, your focus is the bombastic and confident man before you, who’s in the midst of telling the story of a rather exciting battle he had not too long ago. You’d been getting to know each other and already blended rather well, being a little more than friendly right off the bat.

“- so there I was, two pokemon left- my Gigalith and Duraludon. The bastard I’m battling is getting cocky, thinking he’s so clever with a team of fairy types. Clearly he’d forgotten that my star gigantamax-er is half steel. So I gigantamax, Duraludon grows to the size of a skyscraper, and I whip out the move Max Steelspike!” he explains, reliving the story with such vivid energy that you feel like you’re there watching the battle yourself.

“Do you wipe the rest of his pokemon?” you ask with a smirk, his energy contagious enough to get you incredibly invested.

“I wipe the rest of his pokemon!” he exclaims and you giggle, laying back and leaning into the grass.

Raihan takes out his rotom phone and flips it open, letting it float above both of you as he takes a seat beside you. “Smile for the camera, sweetheart,” he says with a wide grin, bearing those sharp canines of his.

You blush upon hearing that little nickname but decide to just go along with his request, putting up a peace sign with one hand and giving a closed eye smile. 

You hear the audible click of a picture being snapped and the phone floats back to him and he grabs it to quickly show you the photo. “Oh, this is a good one, definitely getting posted, you look adorable,” he teases you.

“You don’t look too bad either, handsome,” you reply smoothly, feeling comfortable enough to flirt with the renowned ‘dragon tamer’.

You notice a slight jitter in his movements, your little comment catching him off guard, but he’s quick to bounce back with his confident personality. “Well that’s a change- earlier you could barely stare at me without getting as red as an Applin, now you’re flirting?” he muses, putting his phone away as he lays down in the grass next to you.

Your eyes meet and you get to stare into his, still a bright blue in spite of the setting sun.

“Ah well, I’m think I’m past the initial intimidation. You have a bit of an… overpowering presence,” you admit, giggling a bit as he quirks an eyebrow at you..

“Is that so?” he asks, folding his arms behind his head as a grin settles onto his face.

“Oh yes,” you murmur with a nod, turning your head to face him, “but I’ve gotta be careful with how much I feed that ego of yours. If I compliment you too much you might just end up exploding.”

He feigns hurt and and clasps a hand to his chest, gripping the front of his jacket, “oh, sweetheart, you wound me!” he exclaims dramatically, moving his other arm and wrapping it around your shoulders, tugging you closer to him.

You recognize this tactic, he just wants to make you flustered and get a rise out of you, but you refuse to give in. In fact, you decide to one up him.

“I wounded you? Oh I’m sorry, maybe this will help,” you reply, leaning up in his arms and planting a gentle kiss on his cheek.

Now you’ve got him.

He stutters over his own words momentarily, and you’re able to see the faint blush on his cheeks.

A smile quickly replaces his shocked expression though, and you find yourself grinning back all the same.

You didn’t know how long you’d be in Galar, but so long as he was around you knew you’d be just fine.

[fuckit-hero-of-trains]

Alone Together Ch 2

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22311754/chapters/53599858#workskin

Chapter Summary:

“What are they like?” Four asks, staring up at the ceiling, trying to imagine the images that must be dancing before Sky’s eyes. “The Loftwings, I mean.”

“They are…” a prolonged beat as Sky finds the words he is looking for, “a blessing. At least, that’s what we were told since we were children. It was said that the goddess Hylia created the Loftwings to protect us, to make our lives in the sky easier. Happier.”

Or: A series of fics focused on Four and his interactions, inside and out.

One second, Four is standing beside the others in one of the vibrant forest regions of Sky’s Hyrule. And in the next second, he is not.

The ground falls out from underneath Four’s feet, and yet, he doesn't fall. Gravity is not working properly. He does not fall, and yet he does not stand nor float nor fly either.

Some part of him would be more interested in this if not for the fact that he felt like death this is terrible Holy Hylia we promised we wouldn't throw up again.

He is being pulled and pushed and squeezed and battered, a sword pulled from the flames and beaten into the correct position. But there is no correct position. Not yet. Instead, the force continues to slam and push and prod, throwing him in all directions and yet ultimately gaining nothing from the effort. A net zero.

A dizziness pulses in his skull, making his eyes go half lidded at the pain, but something inside forces his eyes to stay open because we closed them last time we need to see what is happening, No we don’t No we don’t No we don’t .

Curiosity over this, unfortunately, repeated occurrence wins out, and his eyes remain stubbornly open, despite the increased dizziness it brings.

The green of the forest has melted away into a miasma of purple and blacks, fractals of light and other colors blooming and withering faster than Four can make sense of them. He thinks he sees flashes of locations; a beach, an island, lava, ice, stone, castles.

His eyes slam shut.

Different worlds Who cares Where are we When will this stop?

His brain tells him that he is turning circles and flying through summersaults, but his body remains still, the movement and momentum somehow separate from his skin and bones. His stomach is in his feet and in his throat at the same time and his heart has somehow become his entire body, raw and pounding.

He isn't screaming, but somehow there is no more air in his lungs. He can feel himself choking and coughing but there is no sound and he just needs to breathe in–really it's not that hard– but he can't do it .

Just breath! In for four! Haha, real funny. Shut up. Guys!

There is something solid beneath their feet. Ground. They hadn't even realized. Their eyes are still sealed shut as their knees give out beneath them.

“Everyone okay?” Older voice. Male. Time.

Can’t focus on that, focus on us. Shut up! We need to listen Where are we Concentrate

Their body curls up.

Different minds begin to sort through their sensations.

There are too many sensations.

They can feel gravel beneath their body, small rocks poking uncomfortably at their ribs. There is dirt on their face, thick, dusty, and flakey. Wherever they have landed, it smells like grass and moss and wet stones. It is cold here. The air is stagnant, dead.

Sounds echo around them. A cave? Stone on stone. Cloth on cloth. Groans of other voices. And a faint, but incessant whirring.

Focus, focus on what we share

“Everyone sound off.”

They throw hands over their ears. Voices. Voices to the right and left. Older younger higher lower. Inside voices, outside voices. Too many voices for them. Need less voices.

That’s it! What do we all need?  

Quite!  

We need to be we need to be we need to be…

we are...

“Four? Did you say something?”

Right.

Four forces his body to relax. His spine releases its rigid curve. Tight muscles unlock. The smallest hero lets himself sink into the dirt on the floor for a moment, reveling in the singularity of the experience. Even as more rocks poke into his ribs. And more dirt gets on his face.

Ow. Gross. Okay, enough of that.

“Four?”

“Sorry, sorry,” Four says, closing his eyes and shaking his head for a second, a pantomime of clearing his thoughts. Oh, if only. What a joke.

He looks up to see concern flash in Hyrule’s hazel eyes. The shorter boy offers a lopsided smile to his brunette friend, hoping to dispel any concern as he takes the traveling hero’s proffered hand up.

Once standing, he swipes his hands firmly down first the front and then the back of his tunic. Dust sputters off him in small clouds. “I guess I’m still not used to this whole, ‘falling through time and space’ thing.”

“Oh, you’re preaching to the choir,” Hyrule says with a sympathetic shake of his head. “At least you landed on your feet before falling over this time. I went face first into that moss pile over. I think I swallowed some on accident.” The other boy opens his mouth and bares his teeth at Four. “Do I have anymore stuck in my teeth?”

Four dons a serious expression, his lip quivering with the effort to keep a straight face as Hyrule pokes a tongue over his canines, checking for any offending foliage.

“Oh, no more than usual, I suppose, “ Four says, somehow able to keep his voice calm and conversational despite the laughter threatening to bubble up from his lungs.

“Hey!” Hyrule says, words coming out an octave higher with mock indignation as he gives Four’s shoulder a push. The two go back and forth pushing for a second, laughs bouncing between the two of them.

A warmth, like entering the heat of the forge on a cold winter’s day, spreads from Four’s chest to his face, spurring on his giggles. Oh . A part of him– warm and glowing red like the hearth–that part of him had missed this kind of easy friendship.

They eventually pull themselves together long enough for Four to actually check out their surroundings.

Well, at least they won't have to wonder who’s Hyrule they’re in for very long.

Glowing aquamarine in the center of the room stands one of Wild’s shrines, it’s luminescence painting the entire area in a flickering blue, like the sun shining down through a layer of ocean water.

They seem to be in a very tall room of sorts. In front of him, near the moss pile Hyrule had fallen into, is part of a wall meant to separate their room from others. The topmost part  of it has crumbled away from the ceiling, leaving massive stones laying in fallen heaps on the ground and exposing more rooms beyond the one they seem to be occupying.

Four vagley notes that all the others seem to have recovered much faster than him. He wonders how long he had been curled on the floor mumbling to himself. He hopes, for his sake, it wasn't long.

Near the only way in or out of the room– a lone, stone arch way– Time, Wild, Warriors, and Twilight stand, heads bowed low in quite discussion. Wild is shaking his head emphatically as Warriors peaks his head around one side of the archway.

Several beams of red light flash onto the hero’s face and body before Wild and Twilight grab the scarfed hero’s shoulders and forcefully pull him back. The four resume speaking, Wild pulling out his Sheikah Slate and pointing at it as he explains something.

To the left of them, Legend and Wind sit together talking. Or, if Four is going to be more accurate, Legend is going through his bag, filing through its contents while Wind chats away at him, either unaffected or in spite of Legend’s glares and lack of response.

Hyrule seems to follow Four’s eyes and sighs at the sight of his predecessor’s hands becoming more rough a he sorts through his belongings, a sure sign of the pink haired hero’s quickly thinning patience.

“I’ll go over and save him,” Hyrule says, already stepping toward the duo.

“A true hero of courage,” Four calls to the brunet’s retreating back, which is met with a blank look that has Four snorting.

He knows Hyrule will be fine. Legend has a soft spot for the kid, even if he tries desperately to hide it behind heaps of sass and emotionally stunted, backhanded compliments.

Like someone else I know … Drifts through his open mind, cool as the stones around him.

Watch it.  Fires back another, a rolling wave cascading onto a beach.

Get a room . Commanding, but with a fondness softening the edges of the words.

His thoughts swirl to a stop. Quite again. For now.

Four belatedly realizes that he had been mouthing along to the words and forces himself to stop. The smithy takes what he hopes is a casual glance around. No one seems to have been paying attention to him.

Good.

He heaves a sigh.  It was difficult to break the habit of talking to himself. When he was alone, he would either separate–letting the parts of himself become the individuals they sometimes craved to be– or let the words of the others flow freely from his lips, a running commentary that both comforted and amused him.

Having to keep all of, well, him to himself was a full time job. However, it was one that Four would gladly bear if it granted him the companionship he hadn't even known he was missing.

The short hero turns away from the newly formed group, resuming his examination of what he is beginning to think is a temple– and not one with a stupid amount of needless traps and puzzles and with a giant monster at the end of it– but an actual place of worship.

Four runs a hand down one of the nearest pillars. It is craggly, the gritty nature only broken up by soft, spongy patches of moss.

Though most of Wild’s Hyrule is demolished ruins, there is something about this place that makes the short hero think this temple is older than the other structural remains they had found.

Parts of it seem reinforced with bricks where the stones have fallen away, an attempt to restore what had been lost. Not only moss but vines and roots cling to every surface and burst out from between stone. If he squints real hard at the ceiling, Four can see cracks in the rock where water has leaked through, small stalactites naturally honing themselves into stone daggers above their heads.

It’s the kind of natural reclamation that takes more than a hundred years. Maybe more than a thousand.

Much older, his mind lands on as he idly brushes his fingertips across the carved stone. An ancient temple, crumbling long before the land it sat in ever felt a touch of The Calamity as Wild called it.

Old. Older than the decay around it. A fossil: hard stone, weather beaten and hidden yet undeniably present.

Four can’t help but feel awed.

Looking up a bit higher than he can reach, the smith can see some kind of image carved into the stone of the pillar he is touching. He thinks he can make out large, circular looking eyes and a sharp, downward V shaped mouth. A beak, perhaps?

He turns around, finding the exact hero he was looking for.

“Hey, Sky, can you…” he trails off as the chosen hero does not turn at his words. “Sky,” he tries again. Yet, the man remains static, back to the small hero and deaf to his voice.

The smithy steps over a fallen rock to stand next to the taller hero, peering up at his face. The normally relaxed Link is staring forward and up, eyes wide and eyebrows furrowed. Like he’s seen a ghost.

“What are you…” Four begins, following Sky’s eyes.

And then he sees it.

Or rather, her.

“Oh,” he says.

How in the Four Elements did they miss that?

If he didn't know any better –or have Sky standing right next to him for scale– Four might have thought he had accidentally stumbled onto a portal.

But he does have Sky standing next to him and he does know better; there are no portals in Wild’s Hyrule as far as he knows. He’s checked every time they have landed here to no avail.

Regardless, even without being the size of a minish, she is massive.

Standing silent and stalwart in the back of the temple towers the largest statue of the goddess Hylia Four has ever seen. She looms over the back room, the crown of her head almost touching the ceiling. A sort of indentation has been carved out in the wall behind her, a semi-circle of terraced stone creating a halo around her head.

Though clearly touched by time like the rest of the temple, her face remains free of significant erosion; her eyes clearly downturned in thought while her lips pull upward in a gentle smile.

The blue, flickering glow from the shrine catches in the folds of her dress and the ridges of her feathered wings, giving the appearance of movement despite the rigidity of the stone.

Words flood over the banks of his consciousness unbidden.

She’s beautiful Incredible craftsmanship How did they even get her in here The temple was built around it.

The last comment sticks in Four’s mind.

Looking at the statue again, he can’t help but agree. There are no drag marks on her sides that he can observe. Obviously he cannot see her back from here, but moving such a large piece of stone would create a significant change in its shape. If she was dragged here on her back, it would flatten out that part of the statue, but he can see no change in her curvature. She looks perfectly cylindrical.

It’s like she just dropped out of the sky or something

Four turns to Sky intent on asking the older hero what he knows about it, seeing as he seems to have some sort of connection to it based on his reaction, but is interrupted by a sharp whistle from the front of the room.

Sky jolts next to him, coming out of his revere. The two turn to see Wild beckoning them over.

The two heroes stride over, joining the group already gathered near the entrance to the shrine. Four slides into the semicircle next to Hyrule while Sky merely stands behind Wind, able to see over the boy’s head easily.

“Anyone up for a rousing game of ‘Good News, Bad News?’” Legend whispers none to quietly from the other side of Hyrule. The traveling hero shushes him, but Four can see a slight upturn to his lips.

Four could say a lot of things about the veteran hero, but at least the older man helps Hyrule to come out of his shell every once in a while.

Although, Four muses, he may be a bad influence on the traveling hero. They don't need two pessimistic little shits with too much magic on their hands in the group. One is enough.

“So we have good news and bad news,” Warriors says. Four hears Legend snort and watches as Hyrule’s shoulders fight to remain still under his stifled laughs.

See. Bad influence.

“Good news is that we know where we are,” Warriors continues, though he eyes Hyrule then narrows his eyes at Legend as he speaks. Without even having to look, Four is sure that Lgened is shooting the Captain a smug grin. Typical.

“Bad news is that there is almost no way of getting out of here safely,” Warriors finishes.

“So, where are we exactly?” Wind pipes up, head tilted to the left and eyebrows furrowed. “Like, yeah, we’re in Wild’s Hyrule, but what makes here so dangerous?”

Warriors looks back at Wild in question and then waves the long haired hero forward as he steps backward to rejoin the semi-circle of heroes. Wild takes his place, pulling his Sheikah Slate from his belt as he does so. He taps on it for a second before flipping it around for the rest of them to see.

“We are here,” he says, finger tip indicating a small yellow arrow on the screen. The five heroes not already in the know lean in to get a better look. Four can see that their arrow seems to be next to a darker, jagged seam cut into brown of the map. A ravine.

“This place doesn't really have a name,” Wild continues, looking a little sheepish at the lack of concrete information, “but I call it The Forgotten Temple. It is a historical excavation site dug into the side of this canyon. We found 100 years ago while we were searching for the Divine Beasts.”

Clear blue eyes cloud over for a second. Twilight places a hand on the younger hero’s shoulder.

“Anyway,” Wild shakes his head, long hair flying behind him, dispeling whatever images had entered the young hero’s mind. “We are in the back room of the temple. So, the only way out is through the front.”

“I’m going to go out on a limb here and say there is a reason we can't just do that,” Legend says, voice flat with wearied humor.

Wild nods grimly, lips pressed into a thin line. “There are about thirty Decayed Guardians in the next few rooms. And all of the rest of the passageways between rooms have been destroyed so the only way to get out is using a paraglider.”

“Do I even want to know how you got back here to activate the shrine in the first place?” Legend asks, one hand rubbing at his left temple.

Wild’s face absolutely lights up. “Well I took this pot lid an–”

Twilight uses his hold on the younger hero’s shoulder to pull him out of the middle of the group. “Not now, Cub,” he says, shaking his head, exasperation coloring his words. Four gets a feeling Twilight knows the story already and hates the idea of reliving it now or –even worse– Wild giving a demonstration of what happened.

“No, no, let him speak!” Wind calls, bouncing on the balls of his feet, eyes wide as he stares at Wild. “You used a pot lid to do what?”

Time steps forward, silencing the group with a single well placed glare before they have a chance to devolve any further. Part of Four greatly respects the man’s ability to bring together and command a group as rowdy as this one.

But then, another part of him hates being told what to do on principle, so, eh, it evens out.

“We’ve decided that the best course of action is to use Wild’s Sheikah Slate to teleport to Rito Village,” the Old Man says.

The room erupts into groans of disapproval that Four can’t help but agree with. He had once watched Wild use the slate, the ragged teen disappearing into ribbons of dissolving icy-blue light. Just the thought of disassembling one place and reassembling somewhere else makes him feel queasy.

Well, that sounds a little familiar. Maybe if we think about it that way, it's won't be so bad!  Blossoms into his brain, warm and hopeful.

You know for damn sure that's not what it's gonna be like. A hiss.

It doesn't hurt to be optimistic. Harsh wind, a reprimand.

“Maybe we should all shut up and listen to what he has to say before arguing about it.” Stone cold and pointed, like an icicle inches from falling.

Wait...

The groans stop. Several heads turn to Four with wide eyes. The ice from his unintentional words drips down, over his ribs and into his stomach.

Oh shit we just said that out loud Dammit It’s not that bad I’m… sorry I didn't mean…

Time recovers the fastest from the very out of character outburst from the smallest hero and inclines his head slightly to Four. “Thank you.”

“As I was saying,” Time continues, and as the other heroes turn their attention back to their leader Four feels himself unwind. Lucky break. “Rito Village is the closest settlement to this location. Once we all regroup there, we can begin to ask around for information on monster attacks in the area.”

“I can carry up to two people with me when I teleport,” Wild says, picking up where Time left off. He quickly turns around for a second, the tapping and chirping of his Slate the only sound for a moment, before he turns back to the rest of the group, a handful of what appears to be wheat stalks in the teen’s hand. He grins as he holds out the grain. “We’ll pull wheat to see who goes when. Longest first, shortest last.”

They go around the circle, starting from Wild’s left and working their way around. Four doesn't really pay attention to the other’s or how long their stalks are– in fact he pointedly ignored Warriors and Legend’s absolutely asinine comparison of lengths, the children that they are– instead only tuning back in long enough to grab his own.

He pinches the top of the stalk, pulling it from WIld’s hand and...

It’s tiny, only an inch of stem beneath the spike containing the grain, a pitiful looking leaf hanging from the cut off end.

Legend, drawn from his squabble with the scarfed hero for the moment, laughs derisively in Four’s direction.

“Aww,” he says, words dripping with false sugar. “It suits you!”

Hyrule elbows the legendary hero in the side, sending Four an apologetic look. Four simply rolls his eyes in response, not dignifying the comment with a response.

Well, at least not externally.

One of these days, I’m gonna punch that smug prick so hard, the pink comes out of his hair!

Those in pot filled homes should not throw stones.

Right?! He’s barely taller than us!

Aw, come on guys, you know he's just joking. It’s his way of showing affection!

My foot is about to show that pantless dick’s shins some affection!

Four lets the dialogue play out in his head, taking care to school his face into a neutral mask even as some of the funnier comments threaten to make him laugh aloud. Soon the rest of the heroes take their turns, cementing the order.

First to leave would be Time and Wind, followed by Warriors and Legend– and wasn’t that great, their stalks were actually the same length– then Hyrule and Twilight, and last would be Four and Sky.

The first three gather together, Wind linking arms with Wild while Time sets a hand on the Champion’s shoulders.

“See you soon!” Wild says, and with a soft chime, the three disappear into flowing blue ribbons of light.

The six remaining Links glance around, unsure what to do with themselves in the interim between trips. The soft whirring from the Decayed Guardians the next room dominates the area for a moment.

A cough.

“So,” Legend says, going through his bag again. He pulls out a small, square paper envelope with a pair of purple bunny ears painted on the side. “Anyone wanna play cards?”

…

Sky immediately and graciously bows out of the card game, citing the need to take a nap for his absence.

As the others begin debating what game to play, Four watches as the chosen hero walks away, the brunette already pulling on the edges of his beloved sailcloth, wrapping himself up even before he sits. The man treads slowly, almost reverently, up the altar, before sitting down and leaning back against the statue, head thrown back against the stone in preparation for sleep.

He seems sad.  

However, before he can do anything else, the others settle on BS, a game that appears to transcend the bounds of Time and Space because apparently everyone loves lying to their loved ones, and Four is quickly pulled in.

The game only lasts five rounds– five rounds of Warriors accusing Legend of cheating, Legend not actually cheating because it’s freaking BS, Hyrule’s terrible poker face, Twilight’s incredible poker face, and Four counting cards because he plays to win. Five very entertaining and loud rounds of BS before Wild returns to pick up the next batch of heroes.

And then there were four. Well, three if you didn't count the sleeping Sky.

With their game taken away, Twilight, Hyrule, and Four sit themselves on the edge of the shrine and start to chat. Their conversation roams from their home town– or equivalent home area, cave thing for Hyrule– to their favorite activities to do in their down time to their favorite foods.

Twilight is just wrapping up a fascinating tale of the best soup he ever had while in the company of some yetis when the soft whoosh of Wild’s returning form cuts him off.

“Looks like that’s our queue,” Twilight says, offering a hand up to Hyrule, which the other hero takes.

The two quickly approach Wild, but the teen waves them away for a second, instead striding up to Four with a question in his eyes.

“Hey,” he starts, eyes flicking away from Four’s face for a second before flashing back again. A nervous tick. “Some of the others are getting a bit antsy for dinner. Is it okay if I cook something up really quick and then come grab you two?”

Four raises a hand in a placating motion and offers Wild a small smile.

“That sounds fine to me. I know how some of them can get when hungry. All things considered, this is a pretty interesting to be stuck in. Besides,” and here the shorter hero throws a thumb over one shoulder toward the statue, “I don't really have the heart to wake him up just yet.”

A relieved smile flits onto Wilds face. “Okay, cool.”

“You sure you’re okay with waiting that long by yourself?” Hyrule asks, earnest concern in his words. “I can stay and you can go if you want. I’m used to the quiet.”

Four shakes his head, a wry grin on his face. “No, no, it’s fine. I’m good at keeping myself entertained.”

Hardy hardy har.  

Oh come on, that was a good one!  

“Well, if you're sure…” Hyrule trails off. Four nods one more time and sends the group off with a wave. Hyrule waves back, until he too dissolves into nothing but streams of light evaporating into the night air.

As the light from the transportation fades, Four takes in a deep breath, holds it and then lets it hiss from between his teeth. He relaxes his mind and tension he didn't know he was holding bleeds from his shoulders.

And then there were five.

“Now what do we do?” his voice asks, a slight grumble to the words.

“I say we get a better look at that statue,” he replies to the open air.

“Seconded.” “Me too!” spills from his lips and Four nods. Good. They’re all in agreement.

He meanders around the shrine, running a hand over the gnarled stone, the smoothness of the glowing glass.

It truly is a marvel, he thinks. Last time they were here, Wild had showed them the almost mystical qualities to the Sheikah weaponry that the Champion used during his travels. Apparently, the way to make such weapons had been all but lost to the Sheikah people during their period of persecution. However, Wild had told Four that one researcher was able to find and repair an ancient Sheika blacksmith automaton capable of recreating the weapons. So far, none of their travels to Wild’s Hyrule had ever spat them out close enough to the research facility for Four to warrant a visit, but he held out hope that they would be able to go at some point.

The small hero comes to a stop in front of the altar, head tipped back to stare up at the statue.

“It really is beautiful,” he breaths. “I wonder how old it is?”

“Ancient. Older than the concept of Hyrule itself.”

Four feels something inside him tense up once more. His head reels as he pulls himself  together, dizziness blooming behind his eyes. His sight fills with black and white spots, the back of his skull pounding and heavy.

Despite his clouded vision, the smithy’s gaze flashes toward the voice and finds Sky. He is evidently not asleep, and based on the exhausted look on the older man’s face, he never was.

He is leaned back against the statue, head lolling back as he stares unseeing at the stone that looms over him. His sailcloth is pulled over his shoulders like a shield, with the corners of the fabric held in clenched fists crossed over his chest.

“What?” Four asks, confusion and pain melting together into a disoriented tone.

“It’s from my time” Sky reiterates. “It was from Skyloft.”

Four nods his head slowly, letting the information sink in.

Sky had told their group about his home among the clouds; an idyllic floating society above the world that had been ravaged by the war between the goddess and a demon known as Demise. From Sky’s description, the place seemed wonderful; a location that Four would love to visit if given the chance.

A small, fond smile pulled at Sky’s lips.

“It used to be sort of the centerpiece of the city. Everything happened there.”

“It must have been magnificent,” Four assures the older man, unsure what else to say.

Silence stretches out between them, thick and awkward.

Four is at a bit of a loss. The shorter hero had never seen Sky look like this. The man was usually bright and sunny, offering kind words or constructive ideas to any interaction he was a part of. He had an easy smile and was even easier to talk to, regardless of what the topic of conversation was.

Sure, the brunette often had his head in the clouds – you’re still not funny– but never had Four seen him so out of it.

The chosen hero looks… lost. His face seems to be unable to settle on an expression, turning from nostalgic, to worried, to down right sad and then right back again. If Four wasn't the way he was, he would probably be impressed with how many emotions Sky was jumping through so quickly.

“Had you ever heard of Loftwings before I told you about them?” Sky asks, eyes suddenly locked onto Four. There is something in the look, something intense. Something desperate.

Four shakes his head.

Sky sighs and leans his head back against the statue once more. His eyes trace the stone above him in small circles and figure eights, tracking something that Four can’t see.

This isn’t going well.  Forms in Four’s mind, concern dripping from the thought.

Really? What gave it away? Snappish, but with an undercurrent of emotion.  

What a helpful addition. Truly, where would we be without your input? Sarcastic but frustrated. No answers.

You guys are terrible at this. Fond.

Four gently lowers himself next to the sitting hero, setting his back against the statue and stretching his legs out in front of him. He brushes his shoulder against Sky’s own and when the other doesn't pull away, leans fully into his side.

It isn't exactly comfortable–the stone is harsh against his spine– but at least it’s warm.

“What are they like?” Four asks, staring up at the ceiling, trying to imagine the images that must be dancing before Sky’s eyes. “The Loftwings, I mean.”

“They are…” a prolonged beat as Sky finds the words he is looking for, “a blessing. At least, that’s what we were told since we were children. It was said that the goddess Hylia created the Loftwings to protect us, to make our lives in the sky easier. Happier.”

Four nods his head against Sky’s shoulder so the older hero knows he is listening.

“Everyone had one. Every few years on a special day called Meeting Day, the kids who had come of age would gather under the statue– this statue– to greet their partner. Their other half.”

A chuckle pushes its way past Sky’s lips.

“I was late for my Meeting Day. I overslept on accident.”

“You oversleeping? I never would have guessed,” Four snickers, nudging Sky lightly, eliciting another laugh from the older hero.

“Not much has changed I guess,” Sky admits. “Zelda though, Zelda was so mad at me. Told me I wasn't taking my life seriously enough. It was brutal.”

“I think she was mad because it was her Meeting Day too,” he continues. “She wanted everything to go perfectly.”

“But it was a complete mess,” he says, nostalgia apparent in his words. “There were actually three of us having our Meeting Day that year. Me, Zelda, and another guy. He didn't even wait for the ceremony to finish before he was whistling for his bird. Dumb thing nearly knocked Headmaster Gaepora off the statue.”

Four watches as Sky shakes his head in fondness at the memory and wonders if the other boy and Sky eventually became friends, even with their rocky start. He imagines they did. Who could hate someone like Sky, afterall?

The older hero sobers a bit then, smile falling from his face.

“And then it was our turn to go. We whistled at the exact same time. Zelda wanted us to take our first flight together. We had been talking about it for years.”

He sighs. “Her Loftwing landed before we were even finished whistling.”

“And yours?” Four asks before he can stop himself, a pit in his stomach already telling him where this story was going.

Sky smiles ruefully, glancing down at Four’s face before returning his gaze to the ceiling.

“I whistled over and over again, but nothing happened. Eventually, they went through with the rest of the ceremony without me.” A breath in. A breath out. “I had to watch Zelda fly for the first time with my feet stuck firmly on the ground.”

The older hero sighs. “I don't blame them. No one knew what to do with me. No one had ever failed to call a Loftwing before.”

Four stares at Sky’s face, watching as his expression grows more grim, his frown and the furrow between his eyebrows growing more pronounced.

“I kept trying for hours. By Noon, most people had left. Better things to do, I guess,” he laughs without humor. “By sunset, Zelda was forced to go home by her father. But I stayed there. I stayed beneath the statue, whistling and whistling and whistling all night.”

“I must have fallen asleep at some point because when I woke up,” Sky says, finally regaining some light, “there he was. I thought it was the sunrise playing a trick on me, but he was actually there. A real Crimson Loftwing.”

A smile, warm as the sun. “He was mine and I was his.”

And then suddenly, the sun is gone. This is it, Four thinks as whirlwind of dark, heavy emotion blots out the sky that is the older heroes eyes. The storm that had been brewing since the other hero had laid eyes on the stone edifice.  

“But they’re all gone now.” Sky says, voice empty.  He gently pushes Four away from his side and then turns to more fully look at the smaller hero. The smith is suddenly hit with how cold it is here without Sky’s warmth.

The brunette stares intently at Four, cornflower blue eyes locked onto whatever muddled, chaotic shade has overtaken his own. Four is trapped under the other’s intent gaze, a leaf in a tornado, unable to escape.

Clouds of pain and uncertainty darken the normally bright blue of the chosen hero’s eyes. Something lurks behind those clouds, Four thinks, like the presence of lightning unknown until the moment it strikes the ground.

Then, thunderous understanding rings through Four’s bones, rattling through his body, shaking him down to the fault lines of his mind.

Swarming in Sky’s eyes is a need to be seen. A need to be heard. A need to be recognised.

“They’re gone and no one’s ever heard of them. Or the Mogmas or Levias or Ghirahim or Skyloft or Demise,” he continues, words picking up speed as he does. There is something frantic about the list. A desire to have it all down, catalogued and out in the open air for all to hear. An auditory library of things lost to time.

“My whole life: everything I was, am, or will be is dust by the time you come along.”

The chosen hero suddenly deflates, leaving behind a lost looking Sky. He falls back against the statue.

Above them, the goddess does not move. Her eyes remain gentle, and her smile stays set in unmoving stone.  

“Is it selfish of me to be afraid of being forgotten? Like I was never there to begin with?” Sky asks. “Is it selfish to wonder if this is it? If this all I leave behind?” he question, voice going softer and softer.

“Just a sword, a statue, and a curse?”

“No.”

Sky sits up at the tone of Four’s voice. Four pushes himself to his feet, fists clenched at his sides and for the first time in a long time, he feels tall as he stares down at Sky’s bewildered face

“No, I don't think it's selfish,” Four says, and he means it. By Hylia he means it, his chest brimming with some thing hot and cold and too much and too little.

Some part of him wants to punch Sky for thinking this way. Another part wants to hug him. All of him wants Sky to understand, to know that he is not alone.  

“What could be scarier,” Four whispers, “than the idea of not existing?”

(he sees four boys: in forest green, ocean blue, flame red, and dusk purple. each one holds a sword above a single pedestal, ready to plunge the blade back in. back where it belongs. but something holds them back, each one barley gripping the pommel as their hands shake.

is this it? everything I did? it was all for this? where will I go? where will they go? where where where where?

am I going to die?

but they need to do it. Vaati had already taken so much from them. they couldn't leave him free. he needs to be sealed.

this is the only way.

together, they drive their blades into the ground and disappear in a flash of light.  

a single boy emerges, tunic green but eyes a rainbow of color.

they hold themselves.

no, he holds himself.

no, they hold themselves. four times the amount of tears drip down one face and they smile and scream and laugh and sob)

“It’s not selfish to want to know that you exist somewhere, anywhere, when you're gone,” Four insists, conviction and strength in his words. The pulsing glow of the shrine illuminates his eyes in flashes of multicolored, unnatural fire.

“So no,” Four continues, “I don't think it's selfish. But I also think it's not something you have to worry about.”

The smallest hero reaches a hand down to Sky. The other glances back and forth between Four’s face and the offered hand before tentatively taking it. The smith, strong despite his size, pulls and the Chosen hero follows, stumbling to his feet.

“Look around!” Four says, letting go of Sky’s hand to splay his arms wide. The smith steps away from the alter, spinning on a heel as he does, wide arms indicating everything around them.

“Here we are, goddesses know when, in a kingdom you helped to create. A kingdom that survives through demon kings, and wind mages, and floods, and calamities. It survives.”

Four throws a gestures over Sky’s shoulder, indicating the green and purple pommel peeking out from behind his back. “You left a sword that has protected so many of us. A beautiful sword that cuts through darkness like a torch in the night.”

The smallest hero places a hand on his chest, feeling the familiar stitching marking the border between his blue and green tunic beneath his calloused palm.

“And most of all, you left us the spirit that unites us together. Without it, I never would have met any of you. I never would have found so many new friends.” Four leaves the ‘New brothers’ unsaid.

“Nothing is ever forgotten,” Four says as he points at the pillar he was examining earlier.

Circular eyes. V-shaped beak. Splayed feathers. Not just a bird, but a Loftwing, flying eternal in stone.

“Maybe just lost for a bit, but not forgotten. Never.”

Four turns back to the other hero. He can see a smile on Sky’s face, the silver lining finally emerging despite the rain that threatens to fall from the older’s eyes.

“And if it means anything,” Four continues as he comes to next to Sky once more, placing a hand on his elbow, “I know of at least eight people who won’t be forgetting you anytime soon.”

Sky nods, taking a second to rub his face– physically wiping away emotions that had been plaguing his mind– before turning his smile back to the smithy.

With one hand he takes the edge of his sail cloth and drapes it across Four’s opposite shoulder and then guides the two of them to be sitting back against the statue once more, now bundled together rather than apart.

Four is grateful for the warmth. He hadn't even noticed until that second that his breath was clouding around his face or that the trembling of his hands might have been from cold rather than sheer emotional force.  

“You always seem to know just what to say,” Sky says as he pulls Four more effectively into his side. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re great at giving advice?”

Two ‘Yes’s and two ‘No’s collide in his skull.

Four merly smiles.

“I like to think I bring new perspectives to conversations,” he says

Hylia, it would be quicker if you just killed me.

You’re no fun.

“Because no one else has your vantage point on the problem?” Sky asks, cheekily.

Aaaand we’re back to short jokes.

Oh, it’s on, Bird Boy!

Wait, speaking of birds...

“I will let the joke slide just this once if you answer a question I meant to ask earlier. You mentioned specifically that your Loftwing was a Crimson Loftwing. Is that significant in some way?” Four asks.

Without looking up, Four can feel Sky nod from the way his shoulder gently shifts. “That’s because no one had seen a Crimson Loftwing for many, many years.  They were assumed to have gone extinct.”

“So the fact that yous was Crimson would have been very important,” Four cataloges. And then, “What’s his name?”

Its goes silent for a moment.

“Well, uhhhh,” Sky says, floundering for a moment.

His voice drops into a defeated tone. “You have to understand, I was pretty young at the time. Children have their Meeting Day when they turn 8 and–”

“Sky,” Four cuts off the brunette’s rambling, a grin slowly growing on his face. “What did you name your Loftwing?”

The brunette pulls his half of the sailcloth closer, muffling his already mumbled words.

“Hmm? What was that?” Four asks, voice going high at the end of the question, ready to tease thevfirst holder of the Spirit of the Hero into oblivion.

“I named him Apple,” Sky says, the voice of man repentant of his crimes.

It’s like an explosion goes off in Four’s head; all four different parts of him howling with laughter.

“You–” Four cuts himself off to take a breath in, steadying his voice, “You named the last known member of an endangered species Apple?!”

“I was eight!” Sky hisses.

Four absolutely cackles.  

“Oh come on,” Sky groans, “Like you never gave something a stupid name when you were younger?”

And that shuts up Four. Kind of.

He does have us there.

Oh fuck off, Violet.

I didn’t come up with names, Red did!

Four lets his mind turns into a battlefield but ignores it, instead relaying another question about the intricacies of riding Loftwings to Sky, who readily answers.

Pressed up against the other’s side, Four can feel the older hero's voice reverberate around him. He can feel the steady rise and fall of Sky’s chest and the heat radiating off him beneath the makeshift blanket.

Back in his time, Sky is long gone, lost to the ages. But here and now they sit together and wait, the ever shifting blue pulse of the shrine in front of them and the immovable stone of the goddess behind them.

…

The soft hiss and crackle of Sheika teleportation erupts in the silence of the room, the blue flecks coalescing into one frantic looking blonde teenager.

“Four, Sky! I’m so sorry, there was this whole thing with Wind and a weird pear that one of the Rito children ate and–”

“Shush!”

“What? Is something wro– Oh.”

Sky watches as the younger hero turns the corner of the shrine, catching sight of the pair of them.

They must make quite the sight if Wild’s hand twitching toward his Sheikah Slate is any indication.

Curled against his side, Four breaths deeply and evenly, mumbling every so often in his sleep. The smithy had grown quite a little while ago as his questions slowly petering off into silence.

“Sorry,” Wild whispered as he joins them on the altar. Sky isn't sure whether he is apologizing about his tardiness or almost waking up Four.

“It’s fine,” he assures, turning his head down to look at the small hero while trying to move his body as little as possible.

“Sometimes I forget how young he is. He always seems so,” and here Wild cuts off his whisper to smooth his face out into a flat, unimpressed look.

Sky nods forcing down his chuckles at the look.

“Don’t let him hear you say that.”

They sit in the quiet of the temple for a moment just looking at the small teen.

“We should wake him,” Wild decides. “He’ll want dinner when we get to the village.”

But Sky shakes his head. “We’ll wake him up when we get there. I don't have the heart to do it just yet.”

Slowly, Sky bundles Four more fully in the white cloth and then shifts the teen onto his back and stands. He gives Wild a thumbs up which the long haired teen returns with a shrug and a look that says ‘Your funeral, not mine’ before turning to step off the alter.

And as Wild turns around, Sky catches a glimpse of the shield strapped to the teen’s back. On the blue background, a crimson bird soars, cradling the triforce between outstretched wings.

A smile quirks at the corner of his lips.

Never forgotten, huh?

Well, wouldn't you know.

[iturbide]

FE:3H x Princess Mononoke

look i’m watching this movie for the second time in three days and the parallels keep bashing me upside the head

Claude von Riegan as Ashitaka

Outsider - Ashitaka is one of the last of the Emishi, a people nearly wiped out by the Emperor whose survivors were driven east, and following his exile speaks nothing of the land he hails from even when questioned directly; Claude hails from Almyra, Fodlan’s eastern neighbor, and a land at best distrusted and at worst reviled in the western regions, and only ever makes careful allusions to the land of his birth.

Peacemaker - Ashitaka journeys west to “see with eyes unclouded by hate,” and refuses to join forces with either side in the mounting conflict, focusing instead on ensuring the survival of everyone he can; Claude comes to Fodlan in hopes of finding a way to bridge the divide between the two halves of his mixed heritage, and refuses to directly support either the Empire or the Church, instead aiming to ensure the survival of as many as he can (he’s the only Lord who remarks on the weight of the lives lost).

Distinctive Mounts - People often remark on Ashitaka’s red elk, Yakul, even going so far as to bring him up when asking after his rider (”a man with a red elk”); though attention isn’t called to it directly in-game, Claude’s white wyvern in his Barbarossa class is distinct among all other mounts.

Archer and Swordsman - Ashitaka and Claude both are masterful archers and an adept swordsmen.  Enough said.

Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd as San

Feral - San is nothing short of ruthless when it comes to combat, charging in with almost single-minded focus when she sets her sights on her goal and giving no quarter to any human that might stand in her way -- even those she cares for, when she sees a chance to end Eboshi’s life; after spending the better part of five years alone in the forests around the Kingdom following his supposed ‘execution,’ Dimitri has discarded any and all inhibitions he once had, and brutally lays waste to any Imperial company he might chance across, and doesn’t hesitate to fight his way through the Alliance forces in hopes of taking Edelgard’s head.

Preserver - Despite her ties to mankind, San considers herself a member of the Wolf Tribe and takes her stand alongside the animals fighting to preserve the lands of the Forest Spirit when the humans mount their assault; putting aside his own ties to Edelgard, Dimitri takes his stand alongside the Church of Seiros in the Crimson Flower route, going so far as to place himself on the front lines at Tailtean to prevent the Imperial troops from reaching Fhirdiad where the last remnants of the Church have taken refuge.

Mounted Combatant - San most often goes into battle astride one of her wolf siblings, wielding a spear as her preferred weapon, though she is adept with a sword when she has to engage on foot without her packmates’ support; though it’s oddly not utilized in his post-timeskip classes, Dimitri has a hidden talent for riding, and an affinity for both lances and swords.

Edelgard von Hresvelg as Lady Eboshi

Dominator - Lady Eboshi’s own people joke that she’s someday going to take over the world, and her ultimate aim is to push back the forest and drive out the old gods so that her city and people can thrive; Edelgard’s goal is the unification of Fodlan and the destruction of the Church of Seiros, as she believes the existing systems need to be broken down so that mankind can truly flourish.

Seeker of Equality - Lady Eboshi has a reputation for hiring on any and all of society’s undesirables to work for her in Iron Town, including prostitutes and lepers, and providing them with not only a fair wage but extra compensation for work they do on her special projects; though Edelgard doesn’t have a chance to demonstrate her ideals over the course of the game, her intent is to create a society where someone’s worth isn’t defined by the presence of absence of a Crest.

Strange Arms - Lady Eboshi is a pioneer of a new kind of warfare, one using primitive firearms that take advantage of black powder and the smelted iron made in her own ironworks; Edelgard’s canon weapon is an artificial Relic, but even beyond that, the Black Eagles house contains the highest ratio of characters who can use Dark Magic spells, which appears entirely disconnected from other Reason-based magic (the magic circles are entirely different, with Fire- and Blizzard-type casts using one with an inscription invoking the Goddess while Luna- and Mire-type casts have mathematical formulae).

i desperately need more crossover content

[cherryplasmids]

☆ still my dove ☆

pairing: sandor clegane x reader fandom: game of thrones—season 8 anon request: Sandor x Reader where they’re involved in some sort of battle or they’re attacked by some bastards and the reader is greatly injured, losing an arm or a leg? “What use am I to you now?” notes: mentions of blood and violence and death.  — I am in no way an expert on disability. I don’t know the science behind having a leg chopped off or anything. I do not mean to offend anyone.

—check out my other works; masterlist

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

         The heavy bodies of four wights that struggled to desperately end your life, suddenly vanished, leaving your arms to drop at your sides. Besides immediately confusion—how in the actual fuck did they just disappear—soreness filled your body and you could finally breathe; inhale without fearing it would be your last.

After the initial shock, people began yelling out names or screaming in pain or crying when they stumbled upon dead loved ones or maybe all of the above. You wanted to feel emotional agony because you are certain you’ve lost someone in the battle but the exhaustion overwhelmed you, silencing any type of feeling besides content. Even when you heard your name being yelled, you just lied there waiting for someone to find you while thinking of a downing cold ale, kissing Sandor because you know your tall, brute lover survived, and sleeping for three days.

Whoever shouted for you came close and quieted down. Despite all the smoke in the air, temporarily disrupting your vision, Necalli’s distinct appearance captures your attention. He leans over, placing his hands on his knees and begins panting. His face is covered in a thick coat of blood and ash with streaks of sweat on his cheeks. Armor no longer rested on his chest or shoulders, instead, the thin olive tunic dangled loosely off his collarbones. Thankfully, you couldn’t find any major wounds, just little scratches decorating his tanned flesh.

“Y/N,” Obvious relief spilled out of him. He drops down to his knees and removes his Unsullied combat helmet which immediately makes you sad.

“I’m sorry about your friends.” You pointed at the helmet. “They nor the Dothraki should have died first. That’s just disrespectful.”

“Perhaps we were taken for granted.” He shrugs even though sorrow fills his eyes. “But we do what she asks of us with no question. If her intent was for us to die, I think we did a good job.”

It’s a poor attempt of a joke but you crack a smile anyway. “Is Grey Worm—”

“Alive, searching for Missandei. I looked for you as soon as the battle was over.”

You lift a hand up to touch his cheek. “Thank you, raqiros.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Good...I think? Just lightheaded.” You stop for a moment, pausing in order to take a deep breath. “Tired, really damn tired.”

Necalli doesn’t speak and looks you over, assessing your condition. He moves your head side to side, wiping away blood from your warm cheeks. You’re delirious to his ministrations because the exhaustion hits you. Hard. Like a sudden rainstorm or the Sept of Baelor blowing up.

Sleep; it’s alluring and the best idea you’ve had in ages. You just need uninterrupted sleep..forever. You, Sandor and the comfy beds filled with cozy furs that Winterfell had in abundance. Necalli is keeping you from fulfilling that desire. He needs to stop worrying—you’re completely and utterly fine, just exhausted. Nothing more and nothing less.

But then he starts shouting causing your ears to start ringing. You close your eyes and push your hands to close anymore sound from going into your ears. He’s screaming bloody murder for what? He needs to leave now because he’s being extremely rude now.

Despite his incessant screaming, sleep calls out to you—sending soft murmurs of delicate yearning. Your eyes close even further, darkening the outside light from penetrating your eyelids. It feels warm.

It doesn’t last long because you begin involuntarily shaking—violently as if you’ve basked in ice cold water. Eyes snapping shut, you see Necalli shaking you, his face filled with the utmost concern and worry.

“Necalli?” Then you feel a jolt in your lower region, shocking you into an upright position. There are so many people crowding you, all shouting incoherent nonsense. Sansa is there, tears spilling, and head shaking. Everything is suffocating, too hectic for you to focus until you notice her eyes shooting back and forth from your own gaze to your legs.

So, you look.

Blood gushes from your left leg, dark red, almost black, but that isn’t the worst part about it.

It was gone.

Your left fucking leg from the knee down wasn’t there—just empty space where the shin should be. Your mouth opens up, but nothing comes out—or maybe it did but you couldn’t tell because of the high volume ringing in your ears.

The pain hits you now, shooting through your body like fire. Somehow, at the same time, it felt like ice and electricity replaced your veins, throbbing at rapid a pace that seemed to quicken your heart rate. It makes you reel, sending you back to your previous lying position, head thudding against the wet dirt which is the worst thing you could have possibly done. An explosion of blinding whiteness blows up in your head and the last thing you could remember is watching Sandor race towards you before your consciousness simply vanishes into darkness.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── 

          Beric’s death struck sorrow in Sandor. After all, the two men have spent many hours together, trying to survive all the obstacles life has thrown at them. They prevailed together, came to the North together, fought alongside each other, and buried comrades together. Although Sandor’s never been one for sentiment, there’s a bit of nostalgia coursing through him as his eyes wander out to the vastness of the North. Beric, an oddball, surrounded himself with other oddballs like Thoros, made Sandor feel welcomed. Not a hound—a brother who’s destiny is to survive. He’s not heartbroken, far from it, but he is sad.

Originally, he just drank a cups of ale in Beric’s honor. However, once he couldn’t find you among the dead or the living, he became inconsolable.

Three days after the battle, he still cannot find you. No one is telling him anything on account of you and Sandor not necessarily being in a relationship. If he specifically asked for you, people would be suspicious and Sandor was not the type to have his personal business under scrutiny by any means. Instead of sacrificing his pride and ask for aid, he helplessly searched for you throughout Winterfell. Every nook and cranny searched and stripped to find you. Three days worth of panic and innocent bystanders being shoved or yelled at and silent tears at night when he’s alone.

It registers after the fourth day that you might not be here. The sudden realization of your clingy self not being there to annoy him, jump on his back, or to play with his fingers when you’re nervous, suddenly slaps him so hard in the face, he physically caught whiplash.

Sandor’s thoughts increasingly became a jumbled mess as he kept drinking with his sight becoming a tad bit hazy. Tipsy is not the word to describe him at the moment. He’s intoxicated and smells like he took a bath in alcohol—not at all how he usually is. Nothing about him is normal anymore, well, as normal as he tried to be. Everything is different; the morning light disrupted by ash polluting the air, the frostiness of the North seems warmer, fewer people roaming around, even the ale tastes different. It’s dreary, dark, and depressing. And the only way he can combat that heartbreak is to drink until he’s dead.

He’s got nothing to live for anymore. He’s done his duty of protecting the Stark girls and without you around, he doesn’t see a future because he planned it with you. The brown cottage with cobble steps and yellow flowers planted beside it that you wanted to live in with him was a far fetched dream that is impossible to realize without you. All the little plans of being farmers and florists and chefs and any other random idea you had would never come true. He did not have the heart to continue, to move on without you because you were everything. How can he move on when you took his heart with you to wherever the fuck you ended up at.

That’s when he knew he could never be happy. The stars would never align for him to set him up with a good life. The one chance he did, the village had been slaughtered and the second time an opportunity came, you were taken from him.

Life’s a cruel joke and Sandor’s been the butt end of the joke since childhood.

So, he takes another gulp of ale, only to find the cup empty. He reaches over to the beer barrel to pour more but nothing comes out of the tap. Just one push of the barrel sends it over. Nothing sloshes inside of it. It’s empty.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

            Something slams heavily against the wall, but Sandor’s eyes are crusted shut. He can’t tell what the noise is and doesn’t want to. The massive pounding in his head makes him feel heavy as if his brain weighs a ton. It’s a heat stroke combined with a migraine, the frigidness of Winterfell doing nothing to cool him down.

Then he’s shaking. A second party is forcefully kicking him but he’s immune, numb. Kicking and stomping, loud slams, gibberish—nothing can shake him out of the thick haze and rut he’s succumbed to.

“Fuck off,” Vomit is on his tongue and it makes him gag.

Whoever is disturbing him speak again, more gibberish followed by another kick to his side. After that, they stop. Instead, freezing water with chunks of ice crashes down on his face, sending his body to jolt forward into a sitting position.

“Fuckin’ hell!”

“It’s about time you woke up.”

Sandor whips his head up despite the throb in his brain to find Arya standing over him, arms crossed over her chest with her eyebrows raised—unamused and certainly unimpressed. Light illuminates her tense silhouette which means it’s still daylight. He’s been sleeping for a few hours instead of a few days like he thought.

“Fuck you,”

She taps her foot and moves to sit on an ale barrel. “You’ve got some nerve.”

Sandor pushes himself to sit against the nearest wall, grunting the entire time. He can’t think straight without pushing his limits, can’t talk without feeling like he licked a shag carpet. Breathing heavily and eyes closed, he takes his time to calm down or else he’ll attack the younger girl. She might beat him, though. After all, he is intoxicated beyond belief.

“All this time you’ve been drinking your arse off for the fun of it and—”

Sandor shakes his head, brain sloshing around in his skull. “Dead,”

“What?”

“She’s dead.”

“Who—” Arya stops herself, sighing deeply before rubbing her forehead. “Y/N?”

“There’s not..nothing left.”

The young Stark girl gets down on her knees, leaning forward to meet his gaze. “You idiot!” Sandor’s eyes flare up in anger. She’s pissed too.  “While you’ve been here feeling sorry for yourself, mourning over her for no reason, she’ been screaming day and night about missing you.”

His eyes perk up, his body physically straightening as her words finally have some clarity. “She’s alive?”

Arya rolls her eyes and stands up. “Yes, been asking for you.”

Scrambling to get up, Sandor stumbles and trips over his own feet several times before standing properly, but his feet don’t have stability. Suddenly, he tilts backward, falls back and hits his head on a wooden barrel. It smashes and ale seeps out.

Arya remains unimpressed at the sight, offering no help to the groaning and probably concussed Hound. “Shower and sober up or she’ll have your head for smelling like an alehouse.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

            By the time Sandor sobers up, takes a shower, and actually attempts to groom a bit, it’s the next night. He didn’t think it would take him that long, obviously underestimating how fucked up he was. The hours leading up to the very moment he entered the makeshift hospital wing in the castle was filled with extreme anxiousness. It’s been five, almost six days, since the battle—fours days he deemed you dead. All the nasty thoughts of his lonely future remained in his head. Surely you wouldn’t want to be with him after he left you to deal with your injuries alone.

He assumed they were horrific since Arya refused to speak about them and even got a little teary-eyed mentioning it. Did you look like him now? Scarred flesh and ugliness tainting your features? No, no matter what happened to your face, he would still love you. It couldn’t be that. When Arya’s eyes got misty and somewhat pitiful, it reminded him of how she used to look when he brought up a specific topic on one of their adventures years ago. For the life of him, though, he couldn’t remember the subject.

When he reaches the wing, there are three Unsullied men guarding your door. They glare at him as he approaches. He expects them to part but they remain still, speaks held up high with their hands tightening their grips. He’s feeling particularly nasty at the moment and opens his mouth to swear but is cut short by your room door opening and swinging shut.

Necalli, your best friend, looks tired with bags under his eyes and terrible posture. His head is low even when one of the Unsullied guards speak to him. It’s in Valyrian, a language Sandor never heard of until the Targaryen girl invaded Westeros. You know it, though. You gave him cute nicknames and compliment him using that language. He never knows what you’re saying, but the little smile on your lips makes it okay.

“Sandor,” Necalli’s accented voice calls out to him, removing him from his memories. The tanned man looked a little pale but he smiled up at him anyway. He didn’t think the Unsullied were allowed to smile. “It’s really great to see you.”

He grunts and nods.

“Y/N has been in and out of sleep. She is awake now but might fall asleep on you. Just don’t do anything that causes her heart to quicken.” The sly bastard winks at him talk Valyrian to the guards before all four Unsullied members leave the wing.

As soon as he sees their bodies turning at the end of the hall, he pushes the door open. Firewood and lavender waft throughout the room, reminding him of his smell and your body scent mixing together. His boots noisily alert you of a new presence and before you can call out, Sandor is standing a few feet away from your bed.

Your breath hitches and hands tighten around the snow-white sheets.

“What—” You audibly gulp. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought you were dead.”

“Well, I’m not. Off you go.”

“What’s the matter with you?”

“I don’t want you here.” Your voice is tight, eyes filled with terror.

Visibly caught off guard, Sandor takes a step back at your words. Not even a week ago were you declaring your love for him, begging for him to fuck you, preparing all these future plans with him. Now you’re telling him to leave as if that hadn’t happened? Had he done something wrong? Why do you look terrified?

“What the fuck do ya mean?” He snaps at her, anger taking ahold of him.

You match his ferocity. “Are you deaf now? I said get the fuck out!”

Sandor stares at you for a long time, causing you to shift. He always does that to you when he knows there’s an underlying issue. And you’ve just outed yourself out by swearing at him, something you rarely ever do.

“The Stark girl told me you were hurt.” Again, he stares, searching for something. “I don’t see anything.”

His lingering eyes sends anxiety through your body and you feel panic welling up in your throat. Again, you tighten your hands around the sheet, bringing it up toward your body.

“Please, Sandor, just go.”

Your whispered words do nothing to ease the giant man and he moves toward you. Your eyes shut when he gets near you, attempting to hold back the tears threatening to cascade downward. Each shuffle, creak, and any other movements cause you to tense up because Sandor will inevitably find out what’s wrong. Of course, it terrified you.

He kneels down beside you and gently tugs the sheet out of your hands. You whisper in disagreement and for a moment, he stops. Eyes intense, you could feel his stare at you and eventually, you relent, completely releasing the sheet.

Agonizingly slow, Sandor peels the cloth off of you, bare flesh gaining goosebumps. He stops when he reaches your knees. Realization stuns him, causing him to release the sheet.

Tears slip out underneath your closed eyelids. Before you know it, you’re sobbing and shaking.

Sandor feels his heartbreak at the sight of you completely and utterly devastated. He understands now. Why you didn’t send someone to get him, why he wasn’t by your side. You’d rather have him think you’re dead than in this condition.

“Oh, Sandor,” He leans forward, tugging you into his chest and you awkwardly grab onto him, twisting your body enough to be practically on him.

“I love you.”

Somehow you cry harder, chest heaving. You shake your head at his words and look up, eyes shining with tears with absolute sorrow leaking.

“What use am I to you now?”

“Listen to me, dove.” Voice gruff and stern, he pulls you further to him. “Nothing has changed. You’ll still be annoying and clingy and will still jump on my back. We will get that cottage with yellow flowers and cobblestone steps.” You cry even more. “Everything is the same. Legs or no legs, you’ll still be my dove.”

He pulls you into him again, smelling your lavender scented hair and lets you soak his shirt in tears. You try to talk but he hushes you, knowing that you’ll need sleep soon. So, he climbs onto the bed. Like routine, you curl up to his side and grip onto his shoulders. It’s silent after that, just you two together with bodies pressed against each other and breathes mingling—thinking about life together away from all the deaths and injuries and wars. Sandor kisses your head and you know you’re safe and absolutely loved at that moment.

────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

word count: 3,034 published: may 16, 2019 edited: n/a