#and just !!!!!! usually is out to cover his own skin (while also refusing to admit that he wants to help others like him too).

[guiltye]

imagine being designed to be genetically perfect and then you meet alec.

[catscidr]

Ghost reader with dottore!!?!?

Ilysm

BOO haha gotem. did i get you ⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝ cw: fluff, dottore is tired and maybe a little ooc, established relationship kinda? not proofread. for plot purposes pretend that sign language doesn't exist and or that neither dottore nor reader know it lmaosghfns includes: gn!reader, dottore, pantalone is mentioned at the end wc: 1,5k

Being a ghost had its perks. One, you could phase in and out of tangible objects at your own whim- made it infinitely easier to tease and annoy Dottore. It’s not like he could push you away if you were to poke his face repeatedly, anyways. 

Two, you had freakishly good night-vision. It lined up with the doctor’s schedule- since he always worked late into the hours of the night you could hang around him and, in turn, entertain yourself by wreaking havoc in his lab (havoc meaning knocking over an empty, plastic container when he wasn’t paying attention to you). 

However, being a ghost also utterly sucked ass sometimes. 

For one, you couldn’t speak. Occasionally you’ll let out a quiet, hushed noise of surprise whenever Dottore caught you off guard or threw something at you, but you couldn’t communicate with him properly. Your main mode of communication was, for the most part and for lack of better words, miming and charades. That in it of itself wasn’t too hard to do since you grew to become incredibly expressive during your time as a ghost, but it required Dottore to look at you (thank the Seven he could see you), which he, in petty revenge, would sometimes refuse to do. 

“Sweetheart, I’m busy. I’ve been busy for a while, and I need you to let me focus,” he says in a firm but calm tone, muffled by a dust mask. It would have sent shivers down your spine if you had one, but you don’t, so instead you roll your eyes at him, floating next to him to peek at what he was doing. 

Sparks flew and sharp, stinging sounds irritating your ghostly eardrums echoed through your body, but it wasn’t enough for you to give up on pestering him. 

It’s not like you could do much, anyways. 

Moving objects could take a lot out of you depending on their weight, volume and size. Pushing a pencil was easy enough, throwing one was just as effortless, but moving something like a desk was harder, considerably so. 

Despite his apparent dislike for you, Dottore enjoyed your company, more than others. Being around someone that wasn’t afraid of him, that treated him like a friend made his cold heart thaw. It’s something he would never admit with his words, too prideful and stubborn to voice out loud, but it didn’t mean that there weren’t any other ways for him to portray his love for you. 

You poked the large metal mechanism he was working on, a loud bonk echoing in the pristine lab. It drew him out of his thoughts, gloved fingers stiffening around the soldering iron he held. 

Nothing moved out of place, but the action was enough for him to peel his gaze away from the two pieces of metal he was soldering together to glare at your semitransparent, floating figure. He says your name with a quiet growl, the word rolling off his tongue in a silent threat. 

“If you keep distracting me, I’ll keep the lab’s curtains open and start working during the day.” he huffs, pushing his security goggles up to rest atop his head to rub his eyes. Dark circles decorated his eyes, the urge to go to sleep for hours at a time constantly present in the back of his mind. 

Your face contorts in an expression akin to one of betrayal, brows pinched together as you freeze in place, your pointer finger hovering just inches away from the machine. Quickly, you’re at Dottore’s side once again, a gust of cold air chilling his skin as a result of your proximity. He pays no mind to it, simply unfurling his sleeves to cover the goosebumps on his scarred forearms. 

You want to ask what he’s working on, what exactly this big chunk of iron and copper is doing in his lab. Why he has safety goggles and a dust mask instead of his usual crow mask, why he’s so much less receptive to your shenanigans than usual. While mulling over your questions, the Harbinger walks off, leaving you alone with your thoughts- but not for long. 

He comes back and takes a seat on the stepladder he was previously on, clicking his pen, slouching forward and leaning his chin on his free hand. You snap your attention back at him- your heart would flutter at the sight if you still had one. 

Dottore sat with his legs spread comfortably, crimson eyes unobscured by his mask, hair pulled back loosely with a few rogue strands falling over his face as he looked at you with his chin in his hand, twirling his pen absentmindedly. You wonder if ghosts are able to- 

“Have you ever tried to possess something?” 

The doctor’s question catches you off guard. You shake your head quickly, your attention definitely piqued. 

“...do you remember being able to possess anything?” he adds, his left brow raised. 

You shake your head again, this time after a slight pause as a sheepish expression adorns your features. Being a ghost meant you had a pretty bad memory, considering your lack of a brain and of, well, everything. You weren’t fortunate enough to have a good memory, being an entity made up purely of elemental energy. 

Your answer seemed to please Dottore as he writes down something on his notepad, scribbling quickly. If you remembered one thing, it’s that you knew you couldn’t read his handwriting purely for the fact that it was impossibly messy. Your brain wasn’t at fault, not this time. 

He looks back up at you. “Do you have an idea of how you could possess an object?” 

Again, you shake your head slowly after a short pause to think about his question. However, your face beams into a bright smile as you give him a thumbs up and a nod of your head. You point at yourself with your thumb, expression changing into something more boastful and confident. 

“You think you can do it?” he asks with the ghost of a smile, amused by your antics. His behaviour was definitely strange, but you paid no mind to it, just happy to see him smiling again since he didn’t seem to do it much nowadays. 

You gesture to yourself with both hands, pointing to your lower body that dissipated into nothingness, silently saying I’m a ghost, that’s what we’re supposed to do. 

He understands despite your lack of a voice and chuckles softly. 

Without another second to waste you float closer to the mass of metal Dottore was working on, analyzing and pondering what to do. Were you supposed to, like, chant something before going inside of it? Despite being an undead spirit, you had only used your ghostly powers to annoy Dottore. Possession wasn’t on the list. 

Figuring that you had nothing to lose, you try to phase yourself into the machine. Your ‘body’ felt like it suddenly weighed a ton and you felt cold, incredibly so. You didn’t know what you were seeing, eyesight blurred and blacked out around the corners as if you had glaucoma at the same time. It was dark inside of the lab, dark enough that your eyesight should be relatively normal. Caught up in your thoughts you fail to see Dottore rapidly taking notes as he looked up at his creation. 

Abruptly, you feel yourself getting ‘ejected’ from whatever state you were in. Your head spins and you hear a faint crash, though you don’t register it as being related to what you just experienced. 

Dottore calls out your name, the sound being much more pleasant to your ears than the previous loud noise despite his voice sounding just as rough. You blink repeatedly, focusing your gaze on him as he says your name again. 

“Are you okay?” he asks with furrowed brows, free hand raised up awkwardly in the air as if to hold your shoulder- forgetting that he can’t. You look at him and nod slowly, though your head felt impossibly tight, your body was readjusting to being so small in comparison to what you had just attempted to possess. 

He jots down something else as he observes your state. 

While he writes down whatever you take the opportunity to look around, noticing the hunk of metal now laid horizontally on the crushed tiles of the lab, dust settling in the cracks. You panic, hands flailing and gesturing at high speed, profusely apologizing to Dottore in your own way. 

He ignores your frazzled state and simply shrugs, expression back to being stern again since you seemed to be relatively okay. 

“I don’t care about the floor; you just successfully possessed a ruin guard. The state of my lab is the least of my worries,” he declares without taking his eyes off of his notepad. 

You stop your movements to look at him, then at what he had just called a ruin guard. If it used to be sitting upright and it was now on its side, then... 

“The banker’ll pay for the damages. We’ll have you practicing your ability to possess things. There’s room for improvement,” he says with a curl of his lips, looking up at you with a glint of mischievousness and something else you couldn’t put your transparent finger on. You nod happily, relieved to be able to make him grin again. 

If there’s anything you remembered, it was how much you loved to see the doctor smile. 

[mattypattypinky]

🎀 Vector Insecurities Headcanons 🎀!!

🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀

I don't think that he would have that big of an issue with most of his features. He wouldn't be worried about being conventionally attractive - He doesn't care about his dorky haircut, or his large nose and glasses. He'd say they give him..- Intellectual charm.

He would be worried about his body and less about his features. I feel like (despite eating so much junk food) he'd worry about his health and gaining too much or too little weight. (He has fat reduced Vitamin D Milk). I bet all of his chips are low fat as well.

I feel like he would be also be self conscious about how scrawny he looks. Not because of the fact that scrawny people are conventional unattractive or anything, but because Villains - especially super ones, are often considered to be tough, big, and intimidating. Usually fit. He'd be a lot more comfortable with his chubbiness if he had muscle to go with it, but he has trouble building that muscle. (He has lots of warm up paraphernalia - What with the fact he is so adamant on the idea that his jumpsuit is a work out outfit, and that he does lots of squats and is extremely adamant on the fact that he is warming up.) His wardrobe is pretty much lots of clothings that look like he is about to go for a jog or work out. He wants people to think that he is going to work out / go for a jog when people see him in public or out on the street.

He's probably tried weight lifting and hated it. He probably couldn't do it very well.

He also heavily doesn't want to be associated with the idea of being a nerd. He enjoys his own aesthetic and he would never change himself and how he acts, his dorkiness and intellect, but how he is is widely perceived and defined by society as a nerd, so he heavily overcompensates for it and tries his very hardest to not seem like a nerd (its not working.)

He much prefers wearing long sleeves and long pants, even to bed. If he were to use pajamas, they would be head to toe covering. He doesn't prefer showing skin often, if he ever were to go to the beach or scuba diving he would prefer to have a full wet suit. (Imagine him pulling up to a beach wearing a full wet suit while everybody else is wearing bikinis or swimming trunks and he looks rlly silly LMAO😭😭😭🤞) I feel like he'd defend himself and say he's a professional scuba diver just so people won't make fun of him for the outfit (He's not professional at it though I do think he'd know a lot about swimming? He used to be on a swim team and he got bullied.)

He'd pull up to the beach with a full wet suit, and a snorkel, and swimming flippers and claim it's professional attire despite it being a beach trip😭

"I'm actually a professional. And, this is what professionals wear." Standing with his hands on his hips like a pregnant lady in full gear on a vacation 😭 🤞(its not meant to be professional Vector its a vacation.)

He's insecure about his snoring, and his sleep patterns and the things he has to wear to bed.

If he goes up a flight of stairs, especially a large one, he will start wheezing, but if other people are around he will try everything in his blood and power not to show the fact that he is. He'd rather faint than let anyone realize he's struggling. He probably has before. 😭

He's really bad at cooking. He wouldn't know how to use a microwave. However, if someone asked for his help on how to microwave something, he'd give them a really random estimated time to microwave the food for. He'd give a random estimate with no hesitation and full confidence.

He could be right. He could be wrong. He could accidentally have set their house on fire. Its fine!

He's insecure about his teeth.

One time he put Microwaveable Popcorn in the microwave and burnt it and he ate the whole bag anyways because he didn't want to admit he burnt it. If you smell his microwave it smells like it still. He claims Microwaves are supposed to smell like that.

He will refuse to go to any public bathroom.

He had a lisp when he was little and went to speech therapy. When he's super stressed or nervous he starts to lisp again. He's embarrassed by it.

He constantly beats himself up for interactions he has with people. If they do not take his introduction well he will dawn on it for hours on end later. Even if it's nothing personal. He lacks personal space awareness and he is over analyze after the fact, he'd really overthink if someone thinks he is cool. He'd be so scared of being thought of as a loser.

He copes with a majority of his insecurities by pretending he's hot shit and putting them off. Someone said to him once that confidence is the most attractive thing, and it stuck with him for his entire growth as a person and life. Even if he's not truly confident at some times and about some things.

He's super stressed about smelling bad. I feel like someone has told him once that he smelt bad and it might have triggered a sequence of hyper anxiousness on his hygiene. I also headcanon that he is easily sweaty and he is worried he smells bad. But he refuses to not wear long sleeves.

[annestie]

Maybe Happiness is Simple.

Summary: Neteyam had long accepted the fact that happiness would not come to him easy. Maybe that isn't as true as he thinks it is.

Pairing: Ao'nung x Neteyam

Word Count: 1,768

Notes: This fic is basically all fluff, no angst. It was inspired by another fic called Happiness is Simple by kaltxiskxawng. You should check it out, it's also an aonunete fic and really cute.

Happiness is simple.

Neteyam has heard the phrase hundreds of times growing up. Spoken from his father to Norm, to his mother, to Neteyam and his siblings. The phrase has always lingered around Neteyam and his family. His father always mentioned it when they were together.

Though Neteyam never thought of happiness to be that simple. For years, happiness to him meant his father’s approval and respect. Which he thought was a long journey that may never even have an end. It was a checklist of unending obstacles that just seemed more impossible as they went on.

For many of those years, Neteyam accepted the seeming fact that happiness would never come to him as simple as his father said. With the responsibilities he carried, he could never imagine living a simple life with simple happiness. Yet the lingering want always itched at his skin.

Then Neteyam’s life was upended. Moving to Awa’atlu seemed like a curse. A terrible curse involving sand, so much sand, the ocean, and this stupid skxáwng. He thought everything he knew was over. But he got used to the sand and the ocean.

Though the skxáwng had been pain in Neteyam side ever since the beginning. Unfortunately, said skxáwng is also the Olo’eyktan’s son which means playing nice. Once again falling into old habits, he sought out an old task. Trying to gain in father’s approval.

In another attempt of trying to get his father’s respect, Neteyam finds himself becoming friends with said skxáwng. While, being around him only served to irritate Neteyam in the beginning, he eventually warmed up to him. Turns out, he’s more than just the smirks and taunting laughs he puts out. Neteyam thinks he knew that deep down.

Their friendship starts slow. At least, Neteyam thinks so. It seems slow at first. Conversations lasting longer than a couple minutes. Tolerating each other’s presence more. But those few small gestures would lead them to something Neteyam never thought he could have.

Neteyam sits under the shade of a mangrove root as he weaves a bracelet for Tuk. It’s a harder weave though he refuses to give up on it. So, he leans over it and carefully threads the beads and rope together. Lost in concentration, he doesn’t notice a certain skxáwng creeping closer to him.

It’s only when Ao’nung sits himself beside Neteyam, does he finally put down the half-finished bracelet. “Can I help you?” Neteyam asks surprised to see the boy there. While they definitely didn’t dislike one another, they didn’t often seek each other out.

“No, you just seemed like you needed company,” Ao’nung responds. Neteyam knits his face with confusion. But Ao’nung ignores it, he sets down a plate between them, only covered by a leaf. “You missed breakfast,” he adds, sliding it over the sand.

One thing Neteyam still isn’t used to is the communal meals Metkayina have. Neteyam carefully picks it up. Taking the leaf off to reveal a somehow still hot plate of food. The delicious smell hits his nose and Neteyam realizes how hungry he is.

“Thanks.” Neteyam looks up to see the usual smirk on Ao’nung’s face replaced by a smile. A real, genuine smile. Neteyam can’t help but smile back.

That would mark the start of Neteyam admitting he wasn’t just making a truce between Ao’nung and him for his father. They sat together in the shade that day. Not speaking a word yet it was comforting in a way Neteyam longed for more of.

How something so simple could bring him such joy had Neteyam beginning to question if his father’s words were true for him as well. Could happiness be so simple for him? The thought plays in his mind for weeks.

Neteyam finds himself thinking more and more about Ao’nung every time the question pops into his mind. Maybe it was the way their conversations flowed like water or how they were just drawn to one another. Whether it was themselves or some sort of divine intervention from Eywa, Neteyam finds himself not caring.

Not with how Neteyam’s heart flutters when Ao’nung smiles at him or the way Ao’nung touches him and suddenly Neteyam can’t breathe. It’s obvious what path they are on. How their lives are going to be intertwined. But it takes Neteyam much longer to admit it to himself.

Neteyam lays under the stars on the sand. During the day the sand burns under the sun but during the eclipse it cools. Neteyam relishes the feeling of the cold sand against the surrounding hot air. However, his stargazing is interrupted.

“What are you doing forest boy?” Ao’nung asks with slight snark in his voice as he looks down at him, blocking Neteyam’s view of the stars.

Neteyam playfully rolls his eyes, something he’s found himself doing quite often around Ao’nung. “Looking at the stars,” he answers. Their tolerance of each other had bloomed into a teasing friendship. One that Neteyam could not be more pleased with.

All Ao’nung does upon hearing him is sigh and fall to the ground next to him. “What is so interesting about them?” he asks. Though his voice sounds irritated, Neteyam knows he’s genuinely curious.

“You can’t see them in the forest,” Neteyam explains. “I always had to climb the tallest tree I could if I wished to see them. Here, I can lay on the ground and look at them.” He gestures towards the sky, full of glowing dots.

“That can’t be it.”

“My father came from one.” Neteyam grins at the shock on Ao’nung’s face. Neteyam takes one of Ao’nung’s hands. “The blue one. Right there.” He gently guides Ao’nung’s hand to the star, making to line it up just as his father had done with him.

Neteyam pretends his heart doesn’t stop for a moment when Ao’nung stares at the tiny blue dot in wonder.

Ao’nung looks away from the tiny blue star and smiles at him. He says, “It looks like your sanhì.” He reaches and touches Neteyam’s cheek with his hand. Neteyam smiles back and laughs, willing away the blush on his face.

Ao’nung always seems to bring out the things Neteyam had forgotten about. In the war, Neteyam was forced to mature much quicker. He became a warrior at twelve when he completed his iknimaya, a child still. Because of this when the war began when he was thirteen, he was expected and thought ready to fight and help by the others in his clan.

He had long thought his childhood done. Those playful days where he could be free of everything. Neteyam still remembers and longs for those days of bliss where all that seemed to matter was what he wanted to do next.

But when Neteyam’s with Ao’nung, he could feel like a child again. He lives in the moment when they’re alone, cherishing every second. He can forget his duties and chores for quiet or peace or freedom.

It gives him that feeling of comfort. That comfort that he desperately seeks. Somehow Ao’nung brings it out to him in every little thing he does. Sneaking out way into the night. Hiding away from their less important duties. Doing everything Neteyam thought he couldn’t do anymore.

Neteyam throws his head with laughter back as he’s splashed by water. He tries to block another oncoming attack with his arm but all it doesn’t do much to stop it. Ao’nung drags his hand through the sea, cupping his hand to get more water, before throwing it into Neteyam’s face.

Neteyam lets out a yelp as he feels the water hit him. “You skxáwng!” he yells half-heartedly. Neteyam uses his tail to splash back at Ao’nung. Laughing, Neteyam watches as Ao’nung unsuccessfully tries to block the water.

Feeling free for the first time in a long time, Neteyam continues to playfully splash around with Ao’nung. The eclipse had set many hours ago, leaving the two of them alone except for the company of a few stray fish.

Ao’nung catches him in an embrace, throwing him over his shoulder. He does it much to Neteyam’s objections, not that Neteyam really tries to free himself even when he can. Ao’nung runs into the deeper water and throws Neteyam in.

“Pay back forest boy,” Ao’nung says in returns with a smirk. Neteyam gasps as he stands up again. Just as Ao’nung lets out a laugh, Neteyam pounces on him, knocking them both down in a mess of limbs and laughter.

As the time ticks by, Neteyam couldn’t deny anymore that they weren’t just friend. He doesn't even want to deny anymore. Not with the way they always seem to grab for each other or the looks they give when they think no one is looking.

There is no protest from either of them. They simply slip into a relationship and neither is trying very hard to get out of it. Lingering touches, quiet moments alone, all of it seems out of a fantasy. One that Neteyam could only dream of.

Under the eclipse, they could drop whatever façade they put in the day. Neteyam doesn’t want to deny their relationship anymore. He never had a relationship like theirs, never knew anyone who understood his struggles as much as Ao’nung does. Never had anyone make his heart feel like it’s beating outside his chest.

Neteyam rests his head against Ao’nung shoulder. Slowly blinking his eyes as he watches the sun eclipsing before them. The sunlight dancing over the water slowly disappears. Ao’nung wraps an arm around Neteyam’s shoulders, pulling him closer.

Relaxing to the others touch, Neteyam sighs. “In the forest, the eclipse never seemed to pretty,” he admits. The forest had always been darker, even during the day. The stars start glowing in the sky before them.

Ao’nung responds by leaning into Neteyam. “Really?” he asks. Neteyam knows Ao’nung’s trying to get him to talk about the forest. He has freely admitted that he loves to hear about it and its strange creatures.

“The trees blocked the view. Even when you climbed to the top it was never… like this. Maybe if I flew high enough with my ikran but still,” Neteyam says indulging Ao’nung. While, not uncommon for his siblings and him to make the climb to see the eclipse, being able to see as it slowly covers the ocean in darkness is something Neteyam will never not love.

Neteyam lifts his head up and looks at Ao’nung. Ao’nung stares back at him. Their eyes lock and Ao’nung’s hand slides onto his cheek. Something about the way Ao’nung smiles at him. Their lips meet halfway, and everything suddenly feels right.

Maybe happiness is simple. And maybe all it took was one person for Neteyam to finally figure that out.

Thanks for reading!

Skxáwng: Moron Sanhì: Their bioluminescent freckles

[greypetrel]

Beh, I'm bored. Che ne dici di [ SCAR ] for the prompt game? (Lmao now I'm mixing both languages, il cervello è davvero stanco XD)

LOL chiedimi se avevo capito fossi/parlassi italiano. Because I DIDN’T. Ma buonasera! xD And don’t worry for the mix, it’s perfectly fine, pidgins are the best. u_u

Sorry for being late, I didn’t forgot! Again, this took me a while to mull over and think about it… But after much much musing, I decided to delve back into DadWolf AU, interpret it metaphorically and well. It’s angst.

Angst with a bog unicorn. Enjoy, here’s a glass of iced tea.

Somewhere Only We Know. (🎶)

[ SCAR ]:          noticing a scar on the receiver’s skin, the sender tentatively stops them from covering it up, and rests a gentle, soft kiss over it.

When they got back from Minrathous, bringing down a friend who was in need of help, they all knew they would have needed time to cope and digest what happened. And after all it was only natural that they couldn’t have taken it well: they had to abruptly cut off their research, take what they could and jump on the first plane, leave everything they worked for in the last years behind and start from scratch. Felix didn’t know anyone in Ferelden beside the two siblings, had a dime to his name, name he couldn’t use without them all being discovered and followed by mages that weren’t as amiable and good natured as he was, and was also, incidentally, terminally ill.

Knowing their different ways to cope with emotions and grief, nothing was exactly a surprise.

It was no surprise noticing how Aisling retreated back in herself academically, refused to do anything substantial and veered her career towards something she liked, but was very inconsequential to a better good. She faced everything on stubbornly and took too much responsibilities, was in the Hospital as much as she could and worked in the weekends to pay for her own rent, refusing to just go back to the family house if not to visit. She looked fine, but some times she just showed up uncalled for, curled on the couch between Solas and Varric and let them both comfort her, saying nothing and, sometimes, crying. That done, she was good to start back, and never backed up. As per her usual.

Dorian, tho, was a whole other matter. He didn’t give in academically and looked for a field of research that was close to what they were doing North. On his own, and with a different team, because no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t convince Aisling to jump back in, and Felix soon was in no condition to work continuously. Dorian went on nonetheless. Personally, tho, it was clear he was just swiping every negative emotion under a carpet, refusing to even admit there was something wrong. He went to visit Felix once, when it was clear his time was at its limit, and just held onto Aisling, offering her a shoulder to cry on, during the funeral. A small function, just them, the family that helped and some friends there for the siblings. Dorian didn’t cry, he just glowered at the coffin as if it was blaming it for everything. As per his usual.

They all knew that if Aisling appeared weak, the one they should look up more for was Dorian. They all knew he would have broken down, sooner or later. He always did, accumulating stress and bursting. It wasn’t a matter of if, it was a matter of when.

The when, it turned out, was a week after the funeral, in the form of a horse-transport van that let out a terrible stench, and parked in front of Varric and Solas’ house one Sunday morning.

“What’s the matter? Did you steal the content of a dumpster?”

Varric asked, stepping on the front porch and looking at his daughter, jumping off of the driver’s seat. It was Dorian, tho, to answer him, in a cheerful tone that was way too enthusiastic to be sincere, as he gingerly turned around the front of the track.

“We’re doing an experiment! Just for fun, like the old times… We need the back garden I think, can we? Of course we can, it’s not like you two are really going to build the swimming pool today, are you.”

He laughed, crossing past his sister and starting to unlock the doors of the back, humming between himself. Weird. Very, very weird. The dwarf exchanged a look with Aisling, still propped against the driver’s door, a silent question passing between them. She just shook her head, a sorrowful bent of her mouth telling him everything the dwarf needed to know before she walked back and started to help her brother.

“Did the garbage truck broke again?” Asked Solas, walking out of the door too, a mug of cocoa in his hand.

“Sparkler’s at his limit.”

“It was about time… Still doesn’t explain the stench.”

“I know as much as you do.”

They stood there, looking at the situation unfurling, ready to help at need. From the back of the truck jumped out a Qunari, panting grossly and loudly complaining that it was the most disgusting thing he ever did. Dorian just swatted every complaint, lamenting that for such a big creature he was surprisingly delicate, and urging them all to just get to work and stop losing precious time, tying a scarf around his nose and mouth and going on chatting about how science demanded strong arms and how it wasn’t a job for the weak of hearts.

The job not for the weak of hearts, was, apparently, dragging down the truck what looked like to be, in fact, the corpse of a black horse, lying on his side, flies buzzing all around and legs rigid that Aisling hat to gently bend to maneuver the hoofs out of the door, huffing loudly, a scarf on her nose and mouth as well, but not saying anything at all.

The horse -a poor, big beast who somehow met his destiny with a dagger crossing his head- got transported with difficulty by the trio, via a plastic cover the corpse was resting over, to the side of the house and in the back garden. Dorian kept on chatting with a glee that was very much unlike anything that was going on, the Qunari -Bull, he got called - replying with sarcasm to everything, and Aisling just silently working, casting glances at Dorian from time to time.

Both Varric and Solas follow them, half curious about what exactly he planned to do with a dead horse, half worried because if there was a shade of weirdness that felt like a scream for help, that was it.

But whatever the experiment was, it was for the siblings alone: when the horse finally was in a position that Dorian deemed optimal, he and Aisling started to chat, in a weird mix of Common and Tevene for the most practical things, circling the animal and discussing. The Qunari, without anything to add to the conversation and looking worried as well, stepped away and approached the pair of spectators.

He introduced himself to the pair as the Iron Bull, the mechanic working on Aisling’s car and owner of the garage on the ground floor of Aisling’s flat building. He was very pleased to finally meet the parents. He accepted something to drink –“Is that hot cocoa?”- and was good company, warming up a quite sceptical Solas too for a hour, before he had to get back to work and excused himself.

He patted Dorian’s shoulder, barely noticed if not physically, and earned a dismissive goodbye by a too concentrated mage. Aisling, tho, jumped up and hugged him tight, with a thank you, before getting back to work.

Qunari gone, the experiment went on as if the two siblings were on their own, with none the wiser and absolutely no neighbour peeking through the windows with big eyes. They all got unused to the experiments, in the years.

Solas, worried, went to offer his help when Dorian started evoking spirits, but Dorian harshly shooed away with the assurance that everything was perfectly under control and he didn’t need to worry, this was way past his comfort zone with spirits. Aisling, today’s silent interpreter and service sister, shook her head when Dorian wasn’t looking, preventing the older elf to reply and start a discussion. Again, damage prevented, the parents got the message that there was nothing they could do save going on with their life and waiting for the situation to unfold.

There was no talking him out for a pause or to stop to have lunch all together. He was in the zone, and not intentioned of stopping any time soon, hands working quickly and brain even faster, tension evident in the way he slouched forward and in the way his shoulders were contracted up to his ears. He hadn’t even insisted to have some sort of blanket, sitting on the grass without minding his clothes or his allergies. Which he never did. Varric brought them some sandwiches and a jug full of iced tea nevertheless - Aisling ate, Dorian didn’t. The afternoon went on like that, a frenzy foreshadowing a big, harsh fall.

When the sun was setting, finally, a neigh rose up from the backyard, loud and clear.

Solas and Varric exchanged one look and rushed back in the kitchen and out of the back door right into the garden.

The horse stood on its hooves, stomping confused and shaking his head -the sword was still planted in it. There were runes and glyphs on its flanks, most Nevarran but with some Tevinter and a couple of Elvhen in it, painted in red chalk. Aisling was standing in front of the animal -zombie?-, cooing soothingly and trying to calm the poor beast down. She managed, caressing his nose and patting his neck until it finally stopped neighing and stomping his hooves and breathing too quickly, with the soft voice she always used for horses, and a tired smile on her face.

“Chuckles-”

“I know.”

“The horse was dead.”

“I know.”

As Varric was totally creeped out, there was pride in Solas’ voice, the usual pride that hadn’t been there ever since the children moved out and moved their crazy experiments in a laboratory, out of the house. It was disconcerning, but the horse looked, indeed, alive enough to, slowly, take trust and start nuzzling Aisling’s hand as a normal horse would. Well, there were some issues for him in opening his mouth, but the animal clearly did his best.

“What- Is that… Normal? Possible?”

“Very difficult. But yes. I didn’t know he studied Necromancy of all things…”

“Necr- Oh, shit. Did he-?”

“No. There’s a Spirit inhabiting the horse. Not the original soul. Still, the body can move.”

The Necromancer, tho, in spite of the success, was still sitting on the grass on his butt, legs folded in front of him and back slouched forward and down, not looking at the horse but at his hands in his lap, totally frozen on the spot. A minute later, Aisling reached him, leaving the horse to explore the new surroundings and its new life as she sat beside him.

Their hands were dirty and the foul stench of dead horse soaked their very clothes. Dorian, tho, had lost every willingness to complain.

“He’s fine, I think. What about Ugo? Ugo the Unicorn.” Aisling proposed, scooting close so they were side by side on the grass, shoulders and hips touching.

“Whatever, I don’t care. It’s yours if you want him, I… I just needed to know that-”

He snorted, shaking his head harshly as he grimaced, not concluding the sentence.

“I know, Dor.”

“I could have saved him.”

“You couldn’t have, Dor. That’s not the horse. There was nothing to do.”

“There’s always something to do… If I… If we-”

His voice broke, and her heart as well, all over again.

“We helped him as we could, Dor. We got him out, we were with him until the end. He knew, he never blamed you, he wouldn’t blame you now.”

“I’ve been a coward. I left him alone, and-”

That’s when Dorian started to cry, breath strangled as he unfolded and bends forward, curling on himself and sobbing loudly. Aisling was there to catch him - she had waited that moment ever since he had showed up to her flat, entering with his key and had explained the experiment to her, she was surprised it took so long. She hugged him tight, dragging his bust against hers and holding him as tight as she could. She started to cry too, for company.

“It’s ok. It’s ok. He knew. It’s ok. You did your best, and it was enough. He wasn’t alone.”

He unfurled and hugged his sister back, bawling in her shoulder, months of pressure and regrets and fear finally catching up with him, all together. There was no undoing what happened: the work they had done for the wrong people, in good faith, the escape, running back in the night like thieves, a luggage full of notes and papers prioritized over clothes and personal belongings. A PhD totally lost and to be gained again from scratch, and bringing Felix with them knowing they had no money and his days were counted. Starting from zero and separating in work for the first time. It all had left a scar, in both of them: they just had different ways to manifest it, different ways to cope, and different ways to help the other with it, of metaphorically healing the hurt with a kiss.

And for the first time in years since they left, dragged inside by Solas and Varric who were there too to catch him, coax him to have some dinner and take a shower and coze up all together on the couch, with a movie and blankets. For the first time in years they weren’t alone.

[zeussil]

Survival

Prompt: How have you survived this long by yourself?

When Aphrodite’s presence was requested, he was waiting for another special mission. Instead, the Great Pope sent him to the Cancer Temple.

“Something’s odd with him. Please go check him”.

“Is he refusing to come to see you, sir?”

“… Just make sure he’s ok.” He nodded, confused, but then again, it was not as if it was possible to say no. At least Saga seemed more in control that day, so with a small shrug, he began walking towards the fourth temple. 

* * *

He wasn’t sure when was the last time he had seen the Cancer Saint. 

The last pair of years were confusing, so noticing absences or keeping track of who was in Sanctuary was just not of his top priorities. Changes were obvious to everyone at the Sanctuary, and Saga’s episodes were worsening each day. More and more they were losing Gemini, and only once in a while did he recognize the soft voice of Saga under the mask.

Standing in front of the fourth temple he announced himself by cosmos, but as predicted, he received no answer. Sighing, he entered. 

And immediately regretted it.  

The Cancer Temple was sinister, to put it nicely. There were no lights lit, and the smell that filled Aphrodite’s nostrils was close to copper. Or something rotten. Maybe both. 

The only light he could actually see were those little pale, blue flames that used to follow Deathmask during his first years in Sanctuary. 

Disgusted, he followed the flames until he could distinguish the Italian’s silhouette on one of the couches in the private quarters. Cancer was surrounded by lost souls, yet he seemed unshakable, his eyes barely open. 

Around the couch, empty plates and bottles flooded the room. Blood stained not only the couch but Deathmask’s tanned skin.  

“Oh, sweet Athena, how have you survived this long by yourself?” He didn’t even try to sound nice. Again, he received no answer. “Hey. The Great Pope has sent me.” He adventured, adding an especial emphasis. Aphrodite never pronounced his name out loud, never dared to talk about what he knew. 

Once more, Aphrodite got no response at all and began to think perhaps Cancer was actually hurt. With an audible growl, he got close to check his brother-in-arms to make sure he was fine. 

“Perfect, just perfect.” He thought, slightly annoyed. “Not only do I have to be your damn assassin, Saga, but now I also have to be a nanny.” He was using all his will to not drop the mission already; the copper, foul smell sending strong shivers to his back. He was sure he’d have to bathe three times only to remove the odor from his hair. 

“Did you hear me?” 

Aphrodite got closer, his patience slowly fading. He was not afraid of Deathmask regardless of the reputation the Saint was building, but he knew very well that he was unpredictable. They could be comrades, yes, but he was now in his private rooms. “I didn’t even wait for permission to go through Cancer,” he thought, realizing it was now probably too late to do so. 

“You know, isn’t it?” asked the Italian with a thick accent, startling Aphrodite. 

“That your Temple’s the worst one? Damn right”.

“You know about Saga.”

Pisces didn't reply. He stopped his hand in midair, now in Deathmask’s personal space.

“You’ve avoided admitting it before. But you know.” 

Deathmask had, in fact, asked before, and Aphrodite always found a way to not say anything. He wasn’t sure about who was or not aware of whom the Grand Pope actually was, and he wouldn’t take any risks. 

“Does it matter?” he finally managed to say while carefully placing his fingers on the Italian’s chin and slowly making him turn to the right. He could now see the blood covering half of the other’s face. His left eye was hurt, and his usually silver-gray hair was almost brown now because of how much blood stained it.

“How long have you been here, sitting in your own damn blood? You disgust me.”

“He. It is not my blood.” The smirk made him want to punch the other’s face.

Aphrodite was not vain as most Saints believed, but sitting in the dark for days covered in a stranger's blood was definitely too far for him. In the dark, he couldn’t locate any clean clothing, and he wouldn’t push his luck by searching for Deathmask’s bathroom. The other’s cosmos was too unsettled. Taking his cape he tore a piece, praying for a close small jar to have water in it. With the piece of clothing now wet in his hands, he started cleaning Cancer’s face.

“Was it that hard to admit it? For how long have you known?”

“It really doesn’t matter. Now shut up.”

But Deathmask’s eyes were wandering in the dark, his gaze confused, lost. Keeping Saga’s secret was as hard for Cancer as it was for him. It was too much. The murders, the betrayal. The manipulation. Ah, he could say a word or two about the manipulation… 

The Swedish held the other’s hand on his while cleaning it. He felt as if the air was being sucked out of his lungs; as if the walls were closing around them. The blond could not stand any other minute there, with Saga’s voice in his mind.

“You are clearly all right,” he said, disposing of the clothing on the floor. 

“Don’t go.” Deathmask reached for his arm, clasping his fingers around his elbow. The touch surprised both of them, red eyes locked in the blue gaze. 

“I won’t stay any more minute here, your temple is a disgrace. You can come and bath in Pisces if you like. There’s also better lighting, it’ll be better to attend your wounds.”

Aphrodite knew he was lying. Panic was suddenly taking him hostage; the secret was no longer a secret now he had admitted what he had been denying for the past months. He needed to be alone, and he knew the other wouldn't accept his invitation. 

Except he was already standing up with him. “Va bene.” 

The husky voice echoed in his ears. “Excuse me?”

“I’ll go.”

Deathmask started walking, leaving Pisces behind. What in the heavens was happening? The Italian always took any chance he had to say how much he hated the smell of his roses, let alone crossing the Twelfth Temple. And now he’d take a bath there?

He reached for him, confused, looking for an excuse to retrieve his invitation, almost tripping when Deathmask turned around to face him, the look on his face much more gloomy than before. 

“Don’t ever lie to me again, Dite. We all are on this together. If we’re gonna wreck it all, better to have company while it crumbles.”

He didn’t know how to answer. Deathmask moved, waiting for him to lead the way. Silently, Aphrodite followed and guided the Italian towards the path both knew very well.

That night they didn’t sleep, they didn’t talk. In complicit silence, they stared at the stars, at Athena’s statue, and finally at the Great Pope’s chamber. 

But even in that sharp silence, Aphrodite realized he no longer felt alone.

[outofbinaryspace]

List 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the ask box for the last 10 people who reblogged something from you. Learn to know your mutuals and followers. 💚

Hey thanks for the ask!

In no particular order:

1. When my cat is mostly asleep/sleeping and I pet her and she shoves her head into my hand.

2. Whenever I’m (usually virtually) hanging out with my friends and start laughing (especially if I can’t stop after a few seconds) and they join in laughing with me even if they don’t know why I’m laughing

This makes me happy cause I haven’t had the best luck in any kind of relationships and even with my own family so having people that laugh with me instead of judging me or laughing at me is a nice feeling.

3. My parents dogs. Well honestly the older boy. I do love the puppy but I’m not as attached to her. The boy was abused as a puppy and we got him when he was 1 or 2. He’s now 5 (I think). He’s a very sweet lad and also a giant. Even for his breed he is tall. Anyway I’m one of his favorite people and I love him. He’s just a giant cuddle bug and while he’s had to overcome a lot, he’s a good boy.

4. I know a lot of people do not like Christmas and how it’s capitalist propaganda and whatever

I love Christmas. I love the cold weather, the hot coco, the pretty lights and decorations, the sappy romcoms, the old stop motion movies, the music (especially the classic old timey songs)

5. This is a bit of a weird one. And kinda gross. TW: skin disease, skin picking

Background info:

Up until I was 20/21 the backs of my ears were basically reptilian. A very pale shade of yellow. Both ears were covered in it. My ears ached from it. And itched. Scratching and peeling it off felt really good. After getting all the scales off I would be in heaven. Because for that precious little time my ears were smooth and light. However peeling and scratching led to my ears bleeding from it. And shedding. It also smelled after being peeled.

It drove me insane. I was paranoid about the shedding. Sunlight hurt more. I couldn’t stand anything touching my ears. Including my glasses that I refused to wear. Gee I wonder why.

When I started fencing I had to worry about how to put my mask on. Because if it touched/smushed my ears I’d tear up from the pain. I remember there was one time I was about to bout one of my teammates and I put my mask on wrong and it folded my ear. I could feel the scales breaking and being ripped from the skin. I had to take a breather and my coach asked me what was wrong and all I could say was I put my mask on wrong which to her made absolutely zero sense.

For those curious: the scales were dead skin cells. For whatever reason they did not fall off like they should have after dying. And because they didn’t i had a constant pile of them on both my ears.

Medicines did not work. When I was a kid I had it on my scalp. My mom used a shampoo on me to try and treat it. The shampoo burned. It burned so badly and I had to let it burn because it was supposed to stay in for twenty minutes. I cried because it hurt so much. And I am not a big cryer. I got hit right in the ankle by an automatic softball machine and didn’t cry.

The shampoo didn’t help. And then there were creams and eventually it was noticed I have it on both eyelids. And they gave me a cream that also did not work and made it look like I had just been crying my eyes out. I had multiple teachers ask me if I was okay. Cue the embarrassing explanation. Even worse when my friends noticed.

My mom and I gave up after that. I accepted I was never going to grow out of it and I’d just have to deal with it.

Then I saw a doc at my (former) uni. She’d help me with my mental health and the times I’d gotten sick. I trusted her. And by god was that the best choice I ever made.

She got me yet another cream. I will admit I did not have any hope. But then it actually worked…after a few rounds my ears weren’t scales. They were normal.

And have stayed that way since!

Even now I’ll mess with my ears just for fun. And it makes me happy. It’s silly I know but for me my smooth and normal ears aren’t something I had until recently. I’ve even thought about piercing them since it’s been threeish years now and it doesn’t look like it’ll come back.

(I still do have it on my eyelids but it doesn’t bother me nearly as much as my ears did. The only noticeable thing is that my eyelids are red instead of skin colored. I am going to see if I can get it treated tho. I did ask before but she was hesitant to treat it cause eyelids being so close to the eyes)

[entropyvoid]

Starfall Chapter 3

Genre: Sci-fi/science fantasy Words: 11329 Synopsis: It’s the year 2420. A cargo vessel from Diana and a pirate ship from Ganymede collide, and both go crashing down into the off-limits and out-of-control terraformed Martian wilderness while on the way to the Martian capital of Elysia. Everyone must work together to survive the infamous death world and get back to civilization - though, does civilization want them back?

Summer evenings were hot in southeast Asia, despite the rain, which didn’t seem to actually cool anything off. If anything, it only made it muggier. Perhaps Hibiki’s ratty seafoam green faux fur jacket was a mistake in this weather, but, well, she’d decorated with it some of her favorite seashells and a handmade back patch only recently, and damn if she wasn’t gonna proudly parade around in it. At least, that’s what the twenty year old mercenary had told herself this morning. Hell, the only reason she’d had the sense to wear short shorts and a pastel bikini top wasn’t because it was hot, it was because it went well with her new- or, well, newly decorated jacket. She wished she could go back in time and slap her morning self. So young. So naïve. So ignorant of just how not acclimated she was to the weather.

She was grateful to finally find herself at the storehouse where she was supposed to meet her newest client. Having been all but abandoned, there was no need to keep the rather powerful industrial AC running, but at least there would be shade. She scaled a mess of crates and dropped in through a broken window, careful to avoid the jagged blades of glass sticking out of the trim, and lugging along her favorite weapon - a baseball bat she’d painted pastel pink and covered in barbed wire. It was also not the most practical thing, but it held some sentimental value, and she’d decorated it herself. Besides, it did its job well enough, and Hibiki would readily admit to being the type of person to sacrifice some utility for her own aesthetics. The pink paint was starting to chip though, and dried blood had stained it and covered some of the glitter. She’d have to touch it up soon.

Even hotter, and muggier air hit her the second she entered the storehouse, crashing into her like a wave of pure disappointment. She lumbered down even more old crates til she was closer to the ground, and, with a sigh, finally caved in and took off her jacket. If she didn’t, heat stroke would probably get to her before her client did. One thing she at least did have the sense to bring, was a thermos of cool water. She made herself comfortable upon one of the boxes, propped her baseball bat up against the wall next to her, and waited.

It wasn’t her client who appeared next, though. More mercenaries slowly filtered in, one by one, practically extracting themselves from cracks in walls or other voids in the space she hadn’t realized were even there. She didn’t know this was going to be some kind of group mission. Hibiki sighed. She absolutely hated these. Don’t get her wrong, it wasn’t like she hated teamwork in and of itself, but a lot of mercenaries thought they were real hotshots, and had trouble listening to each other or cooperating with strangers. She preferred to fly solo because it seemed most of them couldn’t get themselves together, and she’d had a few too many jobs wrecked by total dickwads who refused to listen to a word she said, or had to deal with others treating it like a competition. It was usually best to just avoid other mercenaries. None of them spoke to each other, and all found their own spots in the abandoned warehouse to moodily perch.

A swift kick sent rotten wood flying as the front door flew not only open, but right off its hinges. Every eye in the building turned to what was supposed to be the main entrance of the building as a dark skinned guy with an even worse sense of how to dress for the weather than Hibiki herself strolled in, hands behind his head and a grin on his face, as though he were completely unbothered by the heat. He sported a long leather jacket, with a red fur trimmed collar and metal spikes, black denim jeans stuffed into tall leather boots, and a tattered white shirt. Silver metal coils encased a few of his dreads, which were all pulled into a long ponytail, and a spiked black leather choker and an assortment of animal bones decorated his neck. Upon his shoulder, a large, fluffy, orange and white kitten clung to him. They were larger than the average adult cat, yet still unmistakably a very young kitten. She wondered if they were a dire cat, and  just how big the adults got.

Behind him strode six more people, all with the same silver coils in their hair, but overall wearing much more sensible outfits for the weather. She guessed they were all in the same guild, and the first man’s adherence to his metalhead-esque style no matter the weather was something unique to him. She could respect his commitment to individuality.

“Tau, did you really have to do that?” said one of them, clearly uncomfortable about all the eyes that were now on their little group. Though the words sounded unlike any language she knew, the translator chip that sat under her skin on her temple made sure she understood them perfectly.

“What? It’s abandoned. Literally no one is going to care or even notice if we break it a little.”

She wasn’t sure the decimation that had occurred to the poor door was something she would define as only “a little,” but he kind of had a point. Her climbing in through the window, and however the hell all these other people had slipped in here - was probably an unnecessary amount of effort. She had always thought mercenaries tended to be incredibly weird and extra in the way they went about things a lot of the time. As much as she was amused by the shenanigans of all the other weirdos in her profession, she supposed she was no exception, and this dude certainly wasn’t either.

“Pfft, yeah right, you totally just wanted to be the center of attention.” Said one of the other members of his group. They kept talking amongst themselves, and everyone slowly took their gazes off them and went back to minding their own business.

Eventually, the client showed up: a boring, dreadfully normal looking business man, with all the mannerisms and vocal qualities of a guy who thought he owned the world. She tried her best to pay attention as this dude rolled out what must have been an absolutely ancient 2D projector with a powerpoint presentation on their task, which apparently was some sort of hitman gig on a former business partner. It took all her willpower not to roll her eyes, and with great effort she managed to only do it mentally. Did this idiot not realize that mercenaries and assassins were two different things? There was some overlap, of course, but Hibiki wasn’t really into this type of job, and by the looks on some of these mercenaries' faces, she probably wasn’t the only one. The blood on her bat wasn’t exactly something she’d sought out, after all, it was more like the result of a few emergency situations. After what felt like eons, the idiot businessman finally packed his crap up and left, leaving the mercenaries to slowly filter out. Hell, he hadn’t even left any of them with a chance to ask questions or respond saying they accepted. This guy really didn’t know what he was doing, did he?

“Man, what a waste of time.” She complained aloud, her mouth moving automatically in ways totally unfamiliar to her. Her translation implant had a tendency to switch to the dominant native tongue of all the people within a certain radius - was this the language those guys were speaking earlier? What was it, exactly?

“I know, right?” Said the guy who had kicked down the door earlier - didn’t one of his companions say his name was Tau? “Like, what dumbass tries to hire hitmen off a public mercenary app? At least have the sense to try the deep web or something first.” He pulled the mewling kitten off his shoulder, and cradled them in his arms, whipping a bottle of milk out of his pocket. The kitten began suckling the instant the bottle met their mouth, and it had to have been the cutest sight Hibiki had ever seen. He looked over at her and caught her staring. “You wanna pet her?”

He didn’t have to say another word, she hopped over and began to run her hand through the kitten's soft belly fur. “Does she have a name?”

Tau shook his head. “Not yet, I’ve just kinda been referring to her as my daughter. She’s not old enough for a talk collar yet, and, well, you know how cats and dogs tend to be with names. I could give her one, but she’ll just come up with something she likes better pretty soon anyway.”

True, there wasn’t much point in giving a cat or dog a name - it was commonplace for them to name themselves after their favorite things, which was a large part of why the two most common dog names out there were ‘Good Boy’ and ‘Good Girl.’ She had probably run into at least a good few dozen of each herself.

“Well, she’s adorable either way. Is she a dire cat?”

Tau nodded happily. “Mm-hm! She’s a Siberian Dire Cat, specifically. My guildmaster rescued a litter of them from a fighting ring. He said the mom died, so we sorta split the litter amongst my guild to raise. I can’t wait to see how huge she gets.” The kitten decided she’d had enough, pulling her head away from the bottle. Tau put it back in his pocket and pulled out a washcloth to wipe the mess of milk from her mouth, then put the kitten back on his shoulder, where she sleepily nestled into the red fur of his jacket, avoiding the spikes..

She wondered for a moment, whether such a fluffy little thing was going to be okay in this heat, or what exactly Tau had planned to do taking her on any kind of mercenary job in the first place. She, for one, felt like she was practically dying from the heat. Hibiki considered her next move, whether to end the conversation here and say goodbye, or keep it going. Again, usually she veered away from other mercenaries, but this guy seemed friendly enough. Fuck it. “Hey, wanna go get some ice cream and find some AC? I’m sure your kiddo there would appreciate some cooler air. I’m Hibiki, by the way.”

“Sure! I’m Tau.” He grinned, and turned towards his companions. One who’d been eavesdropping just nodded and shooed him away with a wave of his hand. “Go for it, we’re gonna go report that guy. Have fun, and see you back at the hotel.”

With a final wave, the two new friends wandered off to explore the city.

The crashed pirate ship was about the size of a nice three story house. Though it was perfect, if not downright spacious for five wayward pirates, it was definitely too small for sixteen humans and a couple of cats - one of which was a dire cat - to comfortably reside in. Tengfei had seen more than his fair share of people shoved into the tiniest little spaces together, back before he’d gotten good enough grades to prove himself ‘worthy’ of having nice things like space to himself in his Sol Society days, and he was pretty familiar with how that usually went for the people involved. It would be about three days, he estimated, before many of these people were at each other’s throats if they didn’t build or find some extra shelters. And unfortunately for them, it seemed like they might be here for a good while. Val and Sibyl, their engineer and pilot respectively, had sent out a distress signal from his ship, of course, but would anyone respond to a suspicious, unregistered Gallilean signal all the way out here in the Martian Wilds? His hopes were not high. It was a pleasant surprise that the survivors of the other ship were even willing to approach them in the first place. Though, perhaps he may have to give credit to Tati’s angelic Venusian charm for that one.

The angry blue-haired one seemed to be the only one particularly upset about associating with them - but no one seemed to really like her or listen to her much, so it wasn’t really much of a problem, just an annoyance. She kept coming to him to whine or complain about something or another, insulting him in the process, as if that was going to motivate him to do… whatever it was she wanted him to do. She seemed to be under the impression that he must have been the ship’s captain, and therefore held some strange level of responsibility for the two ships crashing into each other, considering their little ship had effectively T-boned the cargo vessel - or rather, shot through it like an arrow. 

Neither of these things were true, however: for one, the whole point of anyone running away to Ganymede was to escape the oppressive concept of authority, and anyone who went there to try and make themselves captain of anything would get laughed off the planet at best. Of course the Ganymedian crew didn’t have a captain. What a ridiculous thought. Could she possibly be any more ignorant?

The survivors were currently scattered performing various tasks. Building a fire pit, salvaging what they could from the larger ship before its inevitable collapse, trying to forage for food - though no one had been willing to brave the Martian forests quite yet - all that any of them, even - if not especially the Martians in the group themselves - had ever heard about Martian wilderness was horrible things, tall tales of a hostile and unruly world, legends of lethal beasts that humanity even with all its technology could create but not control or conquer. A cautionary monument to all the ways in which bioengineering could go wrong. Not that he was one to start complaining about the dangers of bioengineering - that would be just a tad bit hypocritical of him.

Though, of course, these were nothing more than stories. No one had ventured into the Martian Wilds and come back either alive to tell of it - or, according to what he’d overheard one of the Martian engineers, Phi, mention - allowed by the Elysian government to do so. “In my professional opinion,” he had told Phi, “that speaks less to the dangers of the planet to people, and more to the dangers some sort of secret out there held to the Martian government.”

The green girl, Eliza, he thought her name was, lit up upon overhearing that prospect, excitedly bouncing back and forth and rambling on about how she wanted to be the one to unearth the secrets to this new and exciting conspiracy. The conversation was derailed as she spent the next hours hounding the twins for questions about Mars - some of which made Tengfei wonder if she’d lived her whole life under a rock.

Still, no one knew for certain what they'd find in there.

And no one had stepped up to venture in.

He’d currently been tasked with attempting to find some fire - no one there really knew how to start one, per se, but there were plenty of flaming ship embers all over the place near the other crash site, even after the rain, so he’d been sent out by Hanon to fetch some and bring it back. His mission was successful - well, of course it was, it was probably the simplest one any of them had been given or taken upon themselves. Flaming stick in hand, he paraded back down the beach and into camp, only to be met with the horrid blue haired woman stomping towards him. Again. He groaned internally. 

“Isn’t it suspicious that your ship is fine and ours is completely wrecked? Even though you supposedly hit us full force?” She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at him.

“Fine? There’s no way that thing’s ever flying again. Did I miss something?”

“It’s intact. Ours isn’t. Answer the question,” she growled. 

He rolled his eyes. What did she want from him? He was just a geologist, wasn’t that a question for the engineers? Whatever, he’d take a crack at an answer. “I dunno, probably because ships made to fly anywhere near Jupiter need to be built out of stronger stuff than a ship only made to go back and forth between Mars and Diana?”

“The Galilean moons all had lower gravity than Mars or Diana, last I checked.”

He shrugged. “Jupiter’s harsh. And our ships are still built to withstand its upper atmosphere or break free if we, for some reason, get pulled in.”

She raised an eyebrow at him, glaring at him with unbroken eye contact. He raised one back. If this was her attempt at intimidation, it really wasn’t working. With a huff and a snap turn so quick he could’ve sworn it nearly broke the sound barrier, she stormed off once again.

“Don’t worry about her,” said the other, more chill blue haired woman - Arche, wasn’t it? The captain, or whatever? “She’s been accusing everyone of being the reason we crashed. She’s gone through… let’s see…” she began counting names on her fingers. “Me, Altair, Eliza, whatever conspiracy she had going on in her head about Hibiki and Hanon, you… you know what, I’m gonna bet the engineers are next.”

“I wasn’t worried,” said Tengfei curtly, “but thanks.” The captain girl seemed friendly enough, and hadn’t done much, if anything, to assert her authority as such, but he still had reason to be wary of her. He continued on to the fire pit the others had constructed, tossing in the flames. 

    Right. The engineers. That got him to the second reason the lady was wrong and stupid - Tengfei didn’t feel like giving her the dignity of learning her name, though he knew it would likely happen against his will sooner or later - was because literally every single thing they’d investigated showed zero evidence of human error having been the cause of the problem. The combined group now had four whole engineers at their disposal, two of whom the other ship’s doctor - the pale Venusian guy, apparently - had patched up in the tiny little closet packed with machinery that they collectively referred to as the ‘medical bay,’ a name which severely stretched the definition of the word ‘bay.’ 

The recently comatose one, a teal-haired girl from all the way out on Earth, apparently could not be stopped from getting straight to work no matter what they did to keep her sitting still. After several incidents in which she quietly snuck onto the bridge to rummage around in their computer’s coding and files, Sibyl had volunteered to help her out and make sure she didn’t mess anything up - since they had little clue what state her brain was currently in, and could only really hope that the medical equipment really was functioning as well as it said it was. She wasn’t doing any heavy lifting and would be under supervision, so the doctor had conceded with a sigh of “You know what? Fine.” The other two, the pair of Martian twins, had set out analyzing the data from their own ship. 

    ‘Someone ought to check on them,’ he thought to himself as he strolled towards the little control room full of panels and buttons. Unfortunately, it seemed that Arche had a similar idea, her footsteps awkwardly trailing behind his own, then beside him after a quick jog. ‘And someone ought to euthanize me,’ he added silently. 

    “Soooo,” he rounded the corner and peered into the room, “how goes it?” Arche stepped past him and leaned against the frame of the door. 

    The four engineers were sitting in a circle on the floor, tablets and tools and scribbled upon papers laid out in front of them, with the blaringly hideous orange-instead-of-black blackbox laid in the center as the star of the show. All four looked up from the mess and gawked at him, as if they had all been snapped out of a collective trance. 

    “Do you guys… want me to get you any snacks?” He nervously grabbed his little teal side braid and ran his hand over it, though his confident smile remained. They still had some rations left, thank the stars.

    “We’re conducting a demonic ritual to summon a new ship,” Deimos smiled mischievously, grabbing Phi and Sibyl’s hands from both sides of him. “Would you like to join?”

    Arche grinned and hopped forward. “I’ll join!” Sibyl and Lethe shuffled to the side to make room for her, and Tengfei managed to squeeze in between Deimos and Sibyl. They all clasped each other’s hands in their own. 

    “I’ll admit,” said Deimos quietly, “I didn’t think this bit would go this far, and I kinda have nothing.”

    “Well, you can’t stop now,” said Lethe.

    It was Phi’s turn to take the reins. She began chanting in Latin-like gibberish - she had decided to be a girl today, it seemed, letting her long black hair fall around her face and shoulders and having changed into a red long-sleeved top with shoulder cutouts and a stylish yet practical black high-waisted denim skirt salvaged from the wreckage of her room. As she continued the chant, the already dark lighting of the cold, industrial room grew dimmer and dimmer.

    “We summon thee, ship!” Phi roared. The lights of the ship, in an act so wonderfully and coincidentally dramatic it made him wonder if the vessel had secretly been sentient the entire time, flickered out and left them in darkness.

    They flickered back on a few seconds later, members of the circle looking at each other in bewilderment.

    “I suppose we ought to look into that,” said Sibyl, looking up at the lights. It was not a great time to have a power failure. Granted, no time was a good time to have a power failure on a ship, but that was besides the point.

    “Maybe our ship is jealous,” said Tengfei, patting the floor. “Sorry bud. There’s not much we can do for you.”

    “In all seriousness,” said Sibyl, letting go of the other’s hands, “we’re almost done here. We’ve gathered all the data and we just need to compare it, which shouldn’t take us too terribly long. Would you two mind gathering the others? I’d rather announce our findings to the group.”

    Tengfei and Arche lifted themselves up from the ground with a couple of silent nods. “Call you out at dinner time?” He said, turning to let her go ahead of him this time, and hopefully gain a bit of distance between the two of them. His responses came in the form of a couple of nods and a “Sounds good!” from Deimos, who waved but did not look up, having once again stuck his nose in his work.

    Cooking and baking for five was fun. Most people needed some sort of highly technical skill to worm their way into any given ship’s crew - often even on Ganymedian vessels, where conventional rules needed not always apply. Hanon counted herself as very lucky to be able to see the solar system as a simple chef - particularly as someone born on Ganymede, with no paperwork or bureaucracy to back her existence up and as a result no legal way to get to other worlds. Her little sister had shared the same dream as her, and stowed away off world - though somewhere along the way, it seemed she’d managed to procure some fake documents convincing enough to sell the story that she was from Earth.

    It was not uncommon for Ganymedians to venture out into the world on their own - never to speak to those back home again, not for lack of love, but simply because the other worlds had forced them to navigate the backwaters of society, navigating through black markets and sketchy careers. It was difficult to get a message back home and dangerous for two Ganymedians to be tracking each other off world, lest one get caught and jeopardize the other. When she and her sister parted ways, each to pursue similar dreams, they’d both accepted that they’d never see each other again.

    And yet, here they both were. Of all of the billions of people to crash into each other - a rare occurrence in and of itself - and survive - an occurrence she’d have assumed was even rarer, it was the two of them.

    Neither of them yet dared to touch on the subject.

    She distracted herself from the headache-to-be that was thinking about the infinitesimally small probability of recent events by going about her usual routine - but this time, scaled up massively. Cooking for sixteen humans and two obligate carnivores was not anywhere near as fun as cooking for a small handful, especially with limited space and supplies. She had no idea how to accommodate feline tastes, first of all. And as if their already low food stores weren’t enough of a problem on their own, their struggles were compounded by the fact that hardly anyone here knew how to hunt, cook, or properly forage in these conditions. Not that she could blame them, it was something most modern people had never had to think about, the vast majority of people having access to at least a basic food replicator. She didn’t really have the option to tell them to fend for themselves for the most part, or they’d have all starved to death in about three days.

    “This is the worst.” Hibiki groaned as she chopped vegetables. “Crashing on an alien world? Fine, it seems kinda cool here. Seeing my sister in person for the first time in years? Unexpected, but great! But then you, with full knowledge of all my talents, in your infinite wisdom, have the audacity to put me to work cooking?”

    “Unfortunately, you’re one of the only other people here with even a vague idea of how cooking works.” Hanon sighed. Some things would never change, and it seemed her sister’s hatred of spending any amount of time in a kitchen was amongst them.. 

    “Then why not host a cooking class?” Tau piped up from beside Hibiki. 

    Hanon opened her mouth, then closed it again. “You know,” she said after a pause, “that actually might not be a bad idea. For next time, anyway.”

    Hibiki let out a loud groan. “I wish this stupid kitchen got crunched when the ships crashed,” she grumbled to herself, after her half-second hope that Tau’s suggestion had freed her from this fate had been dashed. 

    Hanon laughed. “You’d still be helping me then, we’d just be cutting these vegetables outside.” She didn’t bring up that that’s where she’d been when the ships had connected.

    To corral all members of their group was no easy task in and of itself, but it was made easier by promises of food. Tengfei collapsed on a fallen log dragged in front of the bonfire by Altair, tired but nonetheless happy to have a plate of food in his hands. Everyone was scurrying around trying their absolute best to be useful, but were hindered by the fact that few of them really knew how  to, at least, in this situation. Used to life with a high degree of everyday technological assistance, every last one of them was floundering like a fish out of water - and they still had a good portion of the luxuries they did before.

    It was Sibyl who chose to address the group. A large portion of her time had recently been consumed by the engineer’s investigations, and a large portion of the group was staring at her now that she was out of her cave. They gawked at her with an incredulous disbelief that there were not just one, but two Venusians aboard a tiny five member pirate crew. And they were right to not believe that, he supposed, given that the woman in front of them was originally from Ceres, though she’d spent a good few years living on the gold-clouded world and had picked up their fashion sense somewhere along the way. Her clothing was shorter than the typical Venusian gown, ending sensibly around her knees rather than floating along the ground, but was a beautiful teal and jade decorated with ornate golden beading. Clipped to the thin straps of her flapper-like dress were matching beaded epaulets that held a rosy sheer cape in place - one she’d requested from Val, a prettier version of Ceresian wings, not that she was likely to ever go back to use them.

    “We’ve finished analyzing all the data we were able to extract from both ships,” she announced to a captivated audience, “and we were unable to find anything that alluded to internal system malfunction or user error.”

    Several held breaths were let go. He felt Val’s shoulders relax next to him - there must’ve been quite a few people secretly wondering if they were the ones that doomed them all. The blue-haired woman’s constant accusations of such were likely not helping.

    “Okay, and?” Said the human personification of a cramp herself. “Are you saying we all just magically fell out of the sky on our own? You wasted your entire day just to find that?”

    “I’m getting there,” hissed Sibyl, “shut the hell up.” The blue-haired lady’s head reeled back slightly, clearly she was a bit taken aback, if not shocked to be addressed with a tone equivalent to her own. “We did detect an anomalous burst of energy from the surface of the planet that began not long before the crash. We think it may have effectively blinded the sensors of both ships, causing them to be unable to detect each other.”

    All eyes had turned to the blue-haired woman once more, in anticipation for her - as they’d come to expect it - pretty much inevitable outburst. But no such outburst came. Nor did a well deserved apology for her constant bling flinging of accusations at everyone who dared to move or show some sign of life. She simply stood there, waiting patiently. Sibyl continued.

    “We don’t know what exactly it was. Could have been a malfunction of Mars’ artificial magnetosphere, could have been a targeted attack, could have been some unknown biological function of a constructed lifeform that we don’t know about and should hope we don’t meet.”

    “Any idea where it came from?” Arche asked.

    “Somewhere below our flight path is the best we can do right now,” Sibyl shook her head. “So… somewhere in the southern hemisphere, as opposed to Elysia.”

    Everyone shared glances, and then exploded into a frenzy of chatter. Their words crashed over each other like water rushing forth from a burst dam, the topic of which was the mysterious infamous death world they’d all become stranded on. It was difficult to imagine there was anyone out there to attack them, even if they managed to get past the lack of known reason to do so. Which left them all with one of the two other possibilities.

    One: if the magnetosphere was malfunctioning, that could very quickly and easily become an apocalyptic catastrophe. If they did not get off world, they would die. And they were going to have a very hard time getting off world.

    Two: they were out here with a living thing that could disrupt their technology’s signals and trigger catastrophe. They were now on the ground with the thing that knocked them out of the sky. It was hard to gauge the reality of this particular scenario, given that so little was known about Martian life. Though everything here had been meticulously and purposefully designed and crafted by humans, the information regarding it had been lost - though whether it was to time or purposeful destruction and secrecy was a matter of hot debate amongst Martians.  In fact, he could hear the two Martian twins engaging in said debate right now, a few feet away. He gave a glance to Deimos, once again passionately advocating the latter theory to whoever would listen.

    No matter which option ended up being true, their chances of survival were far, far lower than any of them had thought.

    A clatter of a ladle against a pan silenced the chatter. He looked over in Hanon’s direction - the other ship’s captain had snatched the used tools from atop her makeshift table. “We need to decide our next course of action.”

    Apparently when she said that, she was not asking the group what they all wanted to do next, she was warming up to bark orders. Of course. He didn’t know why he was dumb enough to let himself expect otherwise for a moment there. He knew better than that.

    “Now that all the engineers are free, I want you guys on ship repairs. We may not be able to get it to fly again, but we want the distress signal to keep sending, and chances are we’ll need to make use of the med bay again, amongst other things. Sibyl ought to take charge of that, since she knows the ship best. And I want Altair to-”

    “Shut up,” Tengfei hissed, rage boiling to the surface. His mouth had moved of its own volition, the man it was attached to barely aware that he’d said anything at all. But even if he did not make the decision to start it, he would make the decision to finish it. “We don’t work for you. And we don’t take orders from you. If you have any suggestions, feel free to share them with the group and we can discuss it and make a democratic decision, but if you just want us to behave like a bunch of servants bending to your whims you can forget it.”

    “Are you insane?” The other blue-haired woman snapped, stepping forward. “We’ll obviously fall apart without a leader to keep everyone in-”

    “No,” Arche held a hand up to her, signaling to her to back off, “No, he’s right, actually.”

    Tengfei was speechless. That was the last thing he was expecting to hear.

    “What?” said the annoying lady in disbelief.

    “I agree with Tengfei. It would be amazing if we could do away with all the rank and hierarchy garbage and just talk to each other and help each other out like equals. I hate being the boss, and frankly, I’ve mostly just been trying to step up out of obligation as someone shoved into the role of captain,” she admitted, and Tengfei could practically feel the confusion that line put into every head in the circle, “but I’m not just saying that to get out of responsibility. Tengfei’s right. We don’t need a leader to stand above everyone else.”

    “Do you have worms in your brain?”

    “I’m a rational being, just like everyone else here. There’s no reason for me, or anyone else, to be in charge if we just all act like adults and cooperate with each other. Which, so far, everyone has been doing a fantastic job of, except for you.”

    “What is happening right now?” Val whispered, leaning towards him. Tengfei didn’t have a response for her, he could only witness the events in front of him.

    “Might I point out that none of you have any survival skills whatsoever?” the woman growled once more. “Without someone to guide the group, we’re all going to die.”

    “You’re right, Cassie. None of us have any survival experience, including you and I. Which means none of us are qualified to tell anyone else what to do.”

    That, finally shut her up.

    Hibiki stood up, taking advantage of the momentary crumb of silence carved out in the middle of this argument. “Well, in that case, Tau, Bellyrub and I are going into the forest to find us more food. Someone’s got to, and we’re pretty much the only ones with any experience in the wild. Although that was on Earth.” she uttered the last bit quietly. 

    “Um…” Tati raised her hand, ever-so-politely. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to accompany you.” She smiled warmly at the three mercenaries. “I’m a bioengineer who specializes in plantlife, so I should be able to help identify what is and isn’t safe to eat, at the very least.”

    Tau hummed in thought. “That sounds pretty useful and all, but are you sure you’re up for it? We don’t know what’s in there, and I don’t know if we’re gonna be able to protect you.”

    “I’m willing to risk it,” she said.

    “Then it’s a date!” Said Hibiki, clapping her hands. “We can set out after we eat!”

Hibiki and Tau had known each other for a couple years now. The two had become rather quick friends after their first meeting, and, having nothing better to do for the time being, and no particular goals besides travel and not starve along the way, Hibiki had decided to tag along with Tau and his guild, and eventually became a member herself - albeit the only one to not adopt their trademark silver hair coils. It was easier to work with a partner anyway, at least a cooperative one - and being assigned jobs by the guild really cut back on the desperate scrounging for any type of job to get herself fed, like she was used to. This wasn’t anywhere close to being their first larger mission together. It was more like their twentieth. They worked well together, to the degree that eventually both their guild and employers alike began to not see them as two separately hired individuals so much as a set, and they were often sent off to do tasks together, without the help of anyone else.

So, understandably, it was a bit odd to have a third person- or, well, a third human, that was, as Bellyrub often liked to tag along in their adventures- in their group this time around. Hibiki didn’t even realize she was staring at Tati until the woman smiled back at her and waved. She quickly looked away.

She didn’t mind, of course, but she’d settled into a bit of a routine of only running around with Tau and Bellyrub, and it was surreal to be adding a soft and bubbly Venusian to their party. Hell, Hibiki didn’t think she’d ever really interacted with someone like Tati. Her life, whether she was on Ganymede or Earth, was full of loud, tough, rough-and-tumble folk, and there was a weird aura of gentleness about not just Tati, but the few other Venusians she’d met as well. She’d seen pictures and heard stories of Venus, and she was captivated by the sheer alienness of the idyllic cities floating upon gilded clouds, every aspect of them perfectly manicured and maintained, orderly and ornate, with grand architectural styles inspired by various ancient Earth civilizations, and residents always decked out in couture. It was a far cry from Earth’s own rough, chaotic form of beauty.

And because the cities were strictly limited in their size, Venus had by far the lowest population of any colonized world, with a cap on not just the number of citizens allowed to live in each city, but also on how many tourists were allowed in at once - and, of course, it was a several month long journey to get there from Earth or Diana. So it was a bit rare, especially for those in her profession, or amongst the kinds of people her life happened to bring her across, to even meet a person who had been to Venus, much less lived there. And here was a Venusian herself, dressed head to toe in the finest floating chiffons and silks of pink and mint, decorated with golden trim and interwoven with roses, daisies, and other small flowers that looked as though they were real. Her locks had rings of gold clipped into them, and her skin looked impossibly soft.  If Hibiki had been told that the lady happily humming as she followed the two almost complete strangers into the unknown wilderness was some kind of goddess, she probably would have believed it. Venus wasn’t all that much further from Earth and Diana than Mars was, but where Mars felt like their next door neighbor, Venus seemed as though it was galaxies away. 

Perhaps that was more because every Venusian she’d met had been unapproachable in their own way. Ollie barely acknowledged the existence of others, unless they needed medical attention. Tatianna in particular had a friendly and carefree attitude, but she seemed as though her mind was still lost drifting amongst the clouds of her homeworld. 

Hibiki had so, so many questions, and no idea how to begin to ask a single one of them.

For a while, the group trekked in silence, but the forest itself was anything but. A gentle, warm breeze rustled emerald foliage that seemed to emit its own faint glow, which grew more and more noticeable as the sky got darker and darker, until she was sure that the veins of the of the leaves here were in fact faintly illuminated with a green glow of their very own, the tips golden. The leaves were large and the trunks tall, every little thing seeming far larger on the smaller planet than they did on Earth. Hibiki was no botanical connoisseur, but she was pretty sure it would be fairly uncommon to find trees this large on her world. At their feet was a thick layer of all the typical hallmarks of forestry: fallen leaves, twigs, grass, soil even - though she’d no idea how the once carnelian colored planet had gotten so covered in that in only three centuries. She heard the distant calls of wildly unfamiliar creatures echo and bounce from one tree to another, and by a small stream, a few abnormally large, fist-sized fireflies flitted about.

Though Hibiki had traveled a lot, and Earth was not anywhere near devoid of greenery, even after all it had been through, she’d still always stuck to where the jobs were: cities. Not only was this forest foreign to Hibiki, but so was the entire concept of forests even being places you could go to, or where there were things to look for and see and do. She knew them only as briefly relevant liminal spaces, which was just another thing that made this experience all the more novel and alien. She’d been to parks before, but this place was completely unhinged in comparison, and it left her in awe. Was this what Earth was like before humanity happened to it?

“So where are you three from?”

Looks like Tati had beaten her to the punch on asking questions.

Tau was the first to pipe up. “I’m from Botswana… probably anyway, and Hibiki is originally from Ganymede. And Bellyrub is technically from Siberia, I guess? She’s a Siberian dire cat.”

“Oh, that’s right! You’re Hanon’s sister, so of course you’re from Ganymede… that’s cool. I’m from Astarte.” Tati didn’t seem as if she recognized any of the other places they’d listed off. Or if she did, she clearly didn’t know a whole lot about them, judging from her expression. Hibiki imagined she was probably experiencing the same thing that she did when hearing the name of a Venusian city, the mere knowledge that a place by that name exists, if even that, but rarely anything more.

“What’s it like there?” Hibiki jumped on the first opportunity to hear all about it.

“Oh! It’s absolutely gorgeous there. Astarte in particular is famous for being the whole system’s leader in bio-engineering, with a massive focus on plant life. The architecture there is grown, not built. Like, the houses are made of fast-growing trees that are shaped into buildings, for example. A lot of the plant life that was specially engineered for Mars biomes a long time ago were actually developed in Astarte and transported over! Though, after the way that got out of hand, we’re much more careful about how we use bio-engineering these days. Even if that one wasn’t necessarily our fault.” Tati frowned. “Which I can understand, but it’s a bit of a shame. I mean, I’d love to see Astarte-style homes everywhere, amongst other things we have. It would solve a lot of problems.”

“What exactly do you mean by ‘got out of hand?’ Do you know anything about the Martian Wilds? I keep hearing all sorts of things from all sorts of people who don’t seem to know what they’re talking about.” said Hibiki.

“Ah, I just mean like, well… let me start from the beginning. You know how most of Mars is off limits to humanity? And how everyone’s all just shoved on Elysia?”

“…Yeah?”

“Well, that’s because they went a lil bonkers with bio-engineering when they were terraforming Mars. They had to edit the genes of most animals so they could stand lower gravity without harmful long-term effects anyway, right? Aaaaand they decided to do whatever else they wanted while they were at it. The plants are relatively normal, but I heard they basically made giant monsters that could eat cities. To the point where people couldn’t settle the rest of it without burning the whole planet down and starting over.”

“I heard it was because of fish people.” Tau piped up.

“Tasty,” said Bellyrub.

“Both of those sound a bit far-fetched, don’t you think?” said Hibiki. She had to be messing with her. Although, a city sized monster could be a possible culprit for their ship destroyer…

“Aw man,” said Tau, “Don’t say stuff like that. I’ll bet you totally just jinxed it. We’re gonna get eaten by a giant monster now.”

“Or fish.” Bellyrub chirped, seemingly excited by this prospect.

“A fish monster? Sea serpents? A hydra, maybe?” Tau was just throwing out random ideas at this point.

“Not exactly my field of expertise, but I dunno if the regenerating double heads thing is all that feasible, at least with where our technology is at right now. Sea serpents, on the other hand…”

“You seem…” Hibiki searched for the right words. “Incredibly cheery for someone who apparently believes we’ve been stranded on a whole planet that’s been turned into a predator infested hellscape.”

“Yeah, well I mean,” Tati picked an emerald leaf from a nearby branch and inspected it as she walked. “It seems pretty okay. So maybe it’s all just weird myths and legends or exaggerations or something, you know? We haven’t exactly run into any trouble yet.”

“Sure, but we’ve only been here in the undergrowth for like… I dunno, half an hour or so?” While Tati’s secondhand story, and, for that matter, just about every other story she’d ever heard of Mars sounded a little far-fetched, and Tau was most likely just making stuff up on the fly, she had to admit that there was most likely a very good reason why human civilization on Mars had not expanded past Elysia. In hindsight, she wished they’d dragged one of the Martians along with them on their little expedition, but they’d probably have been just as lost as the rest of them. Elysia was practically its own world, separate from Mars.

They needed to stay on their guard, although Tau and Bellyrub both seemed excited at the prospect of danger, and Tati was acting as though she wasn’t even familiar enough with the concept to be mildly bothered. Were they really pirates? None of them bothered to correct their crew when they referred to them as such. She knew Tau could handle himself and look after Bellyrub as well, but they both tended to be very reckless, and she still preferred to keep an eye on both of them. She was probably going to have to give that up and just trust in them to not die, while she looked after Tati - at least for the time being.

They wandered for quite some time, trying not to take any turns lest they get lost. As dusk eventually approached and both Tati and Tau (the latter of which she knew was used to long travels) began to complain about their weary legs, the trees thinned until they gave way entirely to a large clearing, at the center of which sat a perfectly circular pond, likely once a little crater. The water was a pretty pastel pink, and above it dozens of fireflies casually drifted, reflecting gold down onto it. Reeds and papyrus lined the border of the pond, and a tall willow tree dragged its drooping branches through the pale liquid. Around it were hundreds of wild strawberries unlike any Hibiki had ever seen. Each berry was huge, about the size of her head, and glowed various pinks and reds. Large white flowers, glowing like everything else, lay scattered between and below everything. It looked like a gathering place for spirits and fae.

Up until now, the forest had seemed fairly standard, with the exception of the faint bioluminescence that seemed to have been added to absolutely everything, but it was the scene before her that fully made her realize the situation she was in: they were, in fact, on a completely alien world.

Bellyrub rushed up to the edge of the pond, gazing in wonderment, with Tati not far behind her. Tati reached her arm out, and a firefly floated over and landed in her palm, fitting perfectly as if made to be gently held. Tau approached a berry, and plucked it from its stem, which seemed as sturdy as a steel beam. He took a bite without hesitation, and Hibiki wondered if it was really safe to eat something that was glowing like that, but she let her worries go as Tau gave her a thumbs up to communicate that they at least tasted good. What’s done was done, if that strawberry did anything horrible to him they’d just have to deal with it later. She approached Tati as the firefly decided it had lingered long enough and continued on - joining its brethren in trying to escape the thrashing excitement of the massive kitten.

“There are pink lakes in a few places on Earth.” remarked Hibiki, who had seen one herself in Australia. “Though they’re usually that color because of the salt.”

“I don’t think that’s all that likely here.” Said Tati. “This water is probably pink as a result of some sort of algae or other microorganism. Look, there are papyrus, reeds, and water lilies growing in it. Salt would kill all of those off.”

Hibiki nodded, and pointed to Tau over her shoulder. “And the berries?”

“They’re… probably fine?” Tati sounded a little unsure. “I’ll scan them, but it’s a pretty normal thing to eat, right? I bet it just made sense to make it all big and whatnot. For food reasons. But I can’t see a reason for them to add any toxins or whatever.”

“Even though it looks radioactive?”

“Bioluminescence was one of the first things that early bio-engineers in charge of terraforming Mars decided to add to things. The idea was to create a well-lit environment in which humans could see perfectly fine at night. Though, I’m sure the early bio-engineer’s artistic flairs played a role as well. I think we’re going to have a hard time finding anything that’s not bioluminescent to eat.”

Hibiki shrugged. “Fair enough, I guess.” She left Tati to stare at the lovely pink pond and turned towards the strawberry patch, shrugging off her kimono-esque jacket so she could bundle up as many bright berries as possible in it.

After quite literally falling out of the sky and running around practically all day and night for what felt like an eternity, Tau was glad to get a break. Actually, he hadn’t realized just how tired his legs were until he sat down in the strawberry patch. Sure, he’d complained earlier, but that was mostly because he liked to complain; it hadn’t quite hit him that heavily til now. He was used to lots of traveling, and was certainly no stranger to walking - and yes the lower gravity did lessen the strain of the activity, but for crying out loud, he was still bruised and sore from the impact of the crash - but he still usually had his motorcycle with him, and if anything was gonna take him this long to get anywhere, he’d just ride on that. There weren’t exactly roads on Mars, barring Elysia of course, but the majority of it was still incredibly flat, and he could’ve weaved between the trees if he took it slow. 

But alas, his precious motorcycle, which he’d spent countless hours upgrading, switching out parts, and prettying up, had been shattered against the walls and impaled by loose chunks of steel back on the ship. He didn’t want to think about what had become of it. It just made him sad.

At least Bellyrub and Hibiki were unscathed. The motorcycle, as much as he did value it, was replaceable - those two not so much. The incredibly large kitten was rolling around in the strawberry patch and pouncing fireflies with boundless energy. Dire cats weren’t just edited to be large, but had also had their lifespan extended like other modern cats and dogs. This was accomplished in part by slowing their metabolism, which incidentally also resulted in them remaining as kittens or puppies for much longer. Bellyrub likely wouldn’t reach full maturity, or full size for that matter, until she was about ten. Granted, most wouldn’t look at the waist-high bundle of fluff and muscle and assume she was any sort of kitten, but anyone who spent a bit of time around her would easily glean it from her energy, attitude, and playfulness.

Suddenly, he felt something large and soft slam into his back, then spring off of him. Bellyrub landed in front of him with an impressive flip. Clearly she was having fun jumping high and doing stunts she normally wouldn’t be able to on Earth, or would at least have a much harder time with. She arched her tail and stood up on her tip-toes, staring with wide, intense eyes at Tau, which he returned, still as could be, massive strawberry all but forgotten in his hands. She hopped towards him, then away from him, and then sprinted off in the opposite direction at light speed. There was no way he was going to back down from her challenge. Tau sprang up and sprinted after her, even though he knew he’d never catch up, not on foot at least.

Bellyrub skirted around the pastel pond and scrambled up the trunk of the great willow tree that loomed over it. Perched on a branch, she stared down at Tau with her tail thrashing, incredibly pleased with herself for finding a high place he could not reach. There were no rules to the game she had started, yet she was satisfied in knowing that she had most certainly won it.

Except, she had made a pretty big miscalculation, in that Tau definitely could reach her - had she forgotten that he was their guild’s parkour master, or thought about the fact that the decreased gravity would apply to him too? Apparently not, as her expression shifted when he began to climb up after her. He reached her in no time, throwing his arms around her neck. “Got you!”

With an excited trill, Bellyrub thrashed with reckless joy that sent them both careening out of the tree. They fell to the ground, Bellyrub landing on her feet gracefully, and Tau crashing softly next to her. The two chased each other around the pond, until finally Bellyrub decided she’d had enough and flopped down in the grass under the willow tree. Tau plopped down next to her, his legs now screaming at him even more than they had been before, (but who could say no to a cutie like her?) He reached out to run his hands through her belly fluff.

“That?” The voice of Bellyrubs talk collar was accompanied by her own chirp as she pointed her nose toward the trunk of the tree. The translator collars that non-speaking animals wore translated directly from thoughts and feelings to human language, rather than from one language to another - and often the translations were a bit janky, lacked proper grammar, and took some deciphering. This time, Tau could at least tell from the intonation that it had been a question of some sort, and he followed her line of sight.

Scurrying around the base was what was unmistakably an ant - although it was far more massive than any ant Tau had either seen or heard of, probably by a magnitude of about a thousand. It was nearly three feet long. Tau stared at the creature. He had always found certain insects fascinating - a pretty bug shined more beautifully than any gemstone, in his opinion, and this one was no exception. It was a sleek jet black color in the front, and faded to a deep red in the back. It sported golden markings, glowing as everything else here did, but with the soft, pale color of a candle flame. That being said, no matter how pretty it may have been, no insect had any business being that large as far as he was concerned.

He then spotted a second ant.

And a third.

Tau sprung to his feet with incredible speed, overdoing it a bit and jumping into the air, unexpectedly floating for a good second or so before landing. So much for a break, but really, he only had himself to blame for taking Bellyrub up on the invitation to play. “Okay Bellyrub, time to go! We’re getting the hell out of here.” Where there was one ant - and especially where there were three of them - there was bound to be a good thousand or so more nearby. Were these guys carnivorous? Were they all prey? It was probably a bad idea to stick around.

Hibiki and Tati were taking a break on the other side of the pond, sitting amongst the strawberry patch. Tati had mentioned something about setting up camp and spending the night here, as the sun had already set by now. But as they glanced over and saw the ants swarming and clambering over each other, advancing on Tau and Bellyrub at ridiculous speeds, it became very clear that that was not going to be happening. Hibiki picked up the wad of strawberries and silk - now affixed to a stick she’d found on the ground, and grabbed Tati by the wrist, running as their two companions caught up to them. The Venusian woman stumbled over her own dress, not having the chance to bunch it up and get it out of the way of her feet. She nearly took Hibiki down with her, but she managed to right herself after a second, and her scrambling feet pulled her along behind the others.

Tau looked back to make sure everyone was all there and keeping up, and watched as the ants swarmed over and began to rip apart the sweet berries. Ants sliced through and ripped out chunks of the fruit, making quick work of the entire patch, shreds of red and white tossed everywhere. Fireflies scurried away, and their absence seemed to turn the clearing a more eerie color. The ants scrambled back and forth, carrying the blood-red chunks of berry meat into the forest behind the willow tree, presumably in the direction of their nest. It was a mortifying display of carnage, if you were a sweet plant. Hibiki grabbed his arm and pulled him away before he’d had too long of a chance to look, dragging him from the scene, now pulling both him and Tati along.

“Hey, Tatianna?” Hibiki called over towards their newest companion, as she let both their hands slip from her own. “What the hell is - why?” She couldn’t manage to get a coherent sentence out, but the question seemed to get across just fine nonetheless.

“I… don’t know!” she gasped for air, clearly not accustomed to running. “Because someone… just… decided one day… that ants… should be big… and then they went… and did it!”

Tau wondered what exactly had been going through the minds of the bio-engineers who had been in charge of this disaster - every decision they’d made that he’d seen so far looked questionable at best, and a stupid, dangerous waste of resources at worst. And that was coming from him! Looking over at Hibiki running beside him, he could tell she was thinking the same thing, though likely without the bit about thinking she herself had a tendency towards stupidity and recklessness - because she certainly did not.

He looked back, and no longer saw any ants. Were they in the clear? He slowed to a jog and stopped, for which Tati was incredibly grateful, plopping herself on a nearby fallen log. “Hey, Bellyrub, are they still following us?” He asked.

She paused and hung her mouth open, sniffing the air, ears swerved toward the direction of the pond. “Little smell, no step. No follow.”

Tau and Hibiki sighed in relief, simultaneously. Then Hibiki elbowed his side, grinning. “What are you so happy about? I thought you loved the adrenaline rush.”

He rolled his eyes. “Well, it’s different when it’s a life or death situation like that. It’s not the same as skydiving, or doing cool tricks on a motorcycle.” Sure, he was excited initially to run into some kind of cool monster… but being ripped limb from limb by a swarm of insects was a whole different can of ants. Besides, he kinda… forgot in that moment that he had other people to watch out for here.

“I think that trying to do a flip on your motorcycle from a five story roof to a three story one, or a wheelie on a goddamn construction crane, or even going 250 mph down an empty road totally qualifies as a life or death situation, but go off, I guess.” Man, she was never gonna let him live any of that stuff down, was she? Hibiki wasn’t usually a passive aggressive person, but when the subject of his fun lil daredevil stunts came up, well… they were the exception to the rule. Tau sighed and put his hands up in surrender; there was absolutely no way he was winning an argument on that topic. He knew she was only being so annoying about it because she didn’t want to see him die horribly, and, to her credit, he had had several near death experiences, and she had succeeded in preventing several more, for which he was grateful. However…

“Hey, I didn’t even do anything this time!” Tau whined.

Hibiki paused. “You’re right, sorry. I was only trying to tease you a little, didn’t mean to bring up a sore subject.”

“Eh, don’t worry about it, it’s been a long day.”

“Want sleep.” Bellyrub let out a whining meow.

“We’ll rest if we can find a safe place to do so, but that… might be a little difficult.” They hadn’t exactly seen too terribly many places to hide on the way there. “Looks like we might have to try walking back to the ship overnight.” Hibiki grumbled.

“We can’t keep doing this every day,” said Tati, now having caught her breath somewhat. “We can grow these in a garden, but that’ll take time. This was way too long of a trek to be sustainable; either we need to find something closer or everyone needs to abandon ship and move elsewhere, where there’s food.”

“Which isn’t an option, because there’s no shelter and who knows what the hell else.” said Tau.

“Well, the animals have gotta be sleeping somewhere.” Hibiki pointed out.

True, but, aside from ants and fireflies, they hadn’t actually really seen any of the animals, which made them a bit hard to track. They’d heard plenty of sounds that he assumed, and, well, hoped were from animals of some sort or another, but who knows what the hell those were, where the hell those were, and what the hell they were doing. Hibiki's street smarts, Tati’s book smarts, Bellyrub’s cuteness, and his own general charisma would’ve served them all very well in an urban setting, but were all pretty close to, if not entirely, useless here.

He turned his head at the sound of claws scrambling up wood, and saw Bellyrub wrapped around a tree, as though hugging it. She let out a chirp, and then one or two excited hops upward, and then she scurried into the branches. Tau called out after Bellyrub, and her collar responded back: “Up, up!”

Whether that was a command, or simply an exclamation of her own excitement to ascend into the foliage could have easily been a subject of debate, but Tau decided to assume it was the former, jumping up to grab a low hanging branch for the second time that day, pulling himself up with relative ease - despite the tiredness and soreness - and following Bellyrub.

He found her perched upon a wide part of the tree, where nearly every branch extended outward at one point. It wasn’t flat, but it was flat enough to walk to comfortably without questioning whether or not he was going to fall - hell, they could probably sleep up there if they so desired, which he was betting they did. There was a dip in the middle of the tree where three branches intersected - they could probably sleep there okay. It may not be comfortable, but it would do. “Bellyrub, you’re a genius! Good girl!” He rubbed her belly as she flopped onto the bark and purred, rolling around.

“Don’t fall out of this one, you two, alright?” Hibiki snickered from behind them, pulling herself up after Tati. “You’ll be able to fall a lot further without getting hurt here - but let’s not test the height you need to be at to break something.”

“Oh wow, it’s gorgeous up here!” Tati had kept climbing up, popping her head out of the canopy and looking out over the forest.

“Want see! Want see!” Bellyrub yowled, and bolted up a different branch. Tau looked at Hibiki, who shrugged, and made her way up as well. Well, hell, he wasn’t about to get left out of the loop.

The top of the canopy was a sea of emerald and topaz, faintly glowing as specks of golden light - from what, Tau had no idea - floated upwards into the sky and fizzled out. Tau had seen a brighter array of stars in the sky back on Earth, but that was to be expected, as light pollution would be a bit of an issue here. What was new  to him were two wholly unfamiliar, lumpy little moons hanging in the sky, a large silver Phobos and a tiny golden Deimos, dangling above his head like two unrefined nuggets of a precious metal. Though the land was brighter than the sky itself, the stars and moons were nonetheless dazzling.

The gentle breeze that brushed against his face transformed into a mighty gust of wind, as an enormous beast rose from beneath the canopy and beat its wings, which spanned the size of a house, pulling it upwards into the sky. Its soft, feathery scales reflected the light of the forest back down onto it, though rather than emerald, it was more of a complimentary jade. Its body looked like freshly fallen snow, and upon its head sat two long, golden branches.

It was a luna moth.

Then another passed overhead, and another. Before he knew it, dozens were dancing in the sky together.

Maybe a few insects were allowed to have some business being that big.

[teaspoon-full-of-sugar]

lesson

pairing: harry styles x reader

warnings: smut, masterbation, daddy mentions, heavy degradation and humiliation (lots of sluts and whores) but also some good girls !! teasing (so much teasing), orgasm denial/edging, choking, bondage, cum play (so also unprotected sex), pussy play (including spanks and cock thumping), pillow humping (for like a second), spitting, panty fucking, harry has a very dirty mind, please, only 18+ !!

word count: 6.4k

synopsis: he only has one rule, and she still can’t seem to follow it (or in which harry teaches y/n a lesson)

author’s note: hello! this took a little longer than i expected, so thank you for being patient with me! this is absolute, pure, unadulterated filth (absolutely no fluffiness about this—be proud for me) please, note the warnings and don’t read if you’re uncomfortable with anything mentioned above (that’s why i put them there :)) xx

masterlist

—

Y/N’s heart races in her ears as she scrubs at her hands, foamy soap slipping down her wrists in her haste. Harry calls for her downstairs, the front door slamming shut, shaking the house. She can’t find her voice just yet, traces of a stolen orgasm lingering in her tired body. The sheets are crumpled from her quick highs, and her legs are weak. She feels giddy, despite the odd numbness that seeps into her bones. She finally feels fulfilled after a long day of insatiable throbbing between her legs.

Clad in a simple tee and underwear, she steps out of their bathroom when he finally gets up to their bedroom. She dries her hands off, eucalyptus, mint, and other artificial scents lingering. She’s still catching her breath.

“Hey, babe,” she smiles, just like she does every time he gets back home, but there’s something behind it that’s unfamiliar, a devilish hint.

It’s her eyes that give her away.

They’ve been together long enough for him to know what she looks like after she comes, her shaky legs, dopey smile, and glazed over eyes. The mischievous glint is different, however.

“How was your—”

“How many times?”

“What?” She tilts her head to the side, brows furrowed innocently. It angers him; it actually makes his chest tight, and he has to bite his cheek to keep from snapping. She has the nerve to act as if nothing is wrong. Lip tucked between teeth, she steps forward, hands splayed in front of her. An unfamiliar feeling bubbles in his stomach. Not quite possessiveness but certainly close, this feeling is akin to lust and indignation, and it melts into a pool of gluttonous desire.

Normally, he takes a step back to collect his thoughts when he’s this emotionally invested, but it’s difficult when she looks so tempting, so divine, so satisfied. Fresh faced with a cheeky grin, she beckons him, imploring him to punish her, challenging him to ruin her.

He stalks forward, their gazes never faltering, until she falls onto the bed, still looking at him innocently.

“How many times did you make yourself come?”

His words bite, but she looks indifferent, the glazed look in her eyes taunting him. She doesn’t answer, but then again, she knows that she doesn’t need to. He cups her throat, so tender, pliable, and exposed, and he can feel her swallow thickly.

“I’ll ask again. How many times?”

She stares at him, jaw set and ready to hold her own. It’s different from her usual demeanor. No matter how bratty she would act, she easily fell into her submissive headspace, answering his questions obediently and listening to him eagerly. She doesn’t seem to want to break that easily today. Instead of her usual shy and shameful glaces at her hands, she sits up fully, looking him dead in the eyes, and grins, a twisted little smirk that makes his stomach curl and his cock grow thick. She wants to play a game, but it seems that she has forgotten that he is the one in charge. His fingers tighten around her throat, pressing into the spots beneath her jaw that leave her vision hazy.

“Only once,” she says sweetly, albeit weakly from her grip on her neck.

Lies.

He knows that.

She knows that he knows that, but maybe a part of her just wants him to piss him off.

“Don’t you dare lie to me,” he snaps. “How many times?”

His patience is wearing thin, and this game, this teasing, is getting out of hand. She thinks that she can have an advantage over him, while still playing the submissive. Someone needs to put her in her place.

“Almost three times,” she admits finally, sinking back. He finally lets go of her neck, and she holds the spot where his hand once was, vexing eyes yearning for his touch. He cocks a brow.

“Almost? Did I interrupt the third?”

“Yes,” she whines. That’s when he notices her thighs pressing tight together, and she shifts on the bed.

“Does daddy not please you, babylove? You need to touch your princess parts because daddy doesn’t make you feel good anymore.”

Filled with hurt, his words seem to get to her. The familiar docile look in her eyes slips in, and her lips sink into a pout. She’s drinking from the palm of his hand.

“Maybe I just shouldn’t touch you anymore—”

“No,” she cries, sinking further into her headspace. “But—daddy, you left this morning,” she says, her lips pouting.

That’s true.

The night before, she was his soft babylove, who just wanted to be as close to him as possible, be held and comforted and loved. That’s how he awoke this morning: warm with his cock soft inside her. He kissed her awake, as she deserved, and even though he felt comfortable simply being wrapped in her warmth, he needed to taste her. He was slow with his movements, languidly licking along her lips until wetness coated her thighs, teasingly sucking on her clit until she was trembling, wanting to build up the pleasure.

Admittedly, he had to rush out before she could finish and go to a meeting regarding his upcoming tour. He had quite the time trying to hide his semi for the better part of the morning.

“And I was feeling achy,” she continues rambling; the poor thing is close to tears. He feels for his pretty girl, he truly does, but he pushes that aside. A part of him feels hurt, like she couldn’t trust him to take care of her when he came home. Harry doesn’t ask much. She can be as bratty as she wants to, purposefully teasing him when they’re in public or refusing to do the simplest of requests, but he just asks that she let him take care of her.

She couldn’t even give him that courtesy.

“Don’t make excuses,” he scoffs. “I thought you were a big girl.”

“I am,” she promises.

“Big girls wait for daddy to come home and help them come,” he says, stroking her cheek. Tender touches mask his true intent. He suddenly shoves her back, hand tight to her throat once again, and she gasps, head tilting back into their pillows.

“Naughty girls touch themselves. Whores come almost three times at their own hand.” He grits his teeth. “Are you a whore?”

She doesn’t answer, but he can feel her heart racing beneath his grasp. A glimpse of a smile is enough to let him know that she’s fine; she’s enjoying herself, seeing him so riled up, possessive, and ravenous.

“Are you still wet? Achy?”

She nods.

“Whores get wet when they’re in trouble,” he says offhandedly. Her body quivers at the malice dripping from his tongue. “Arms up.”

She does as told, holding onto the headboard, eagerly awaiting his next demand. This is what she wanted, after all.

She has no idea what’s coming.

Usually, whatever punishment he gives her is what she also enjoys, from the occasional spanking to overstimulation. He usually has her coming until she can’t take anymore, until an ache seeps into the bliss.

Not this time.

He tugs her shirt up and over her head while his other hand fiddles in their bedside drawer. Moments later, a pair of silk scarves tie her hands to the headboard.

“Not too tight?”

She tugs on the restraints and shakes her head.

“Color?”

“Green.” She beams, breaking character for a moment.

Even if they were in the midst of a deep fantasy, he has always made a point to make sure she knows that it's alright to voice any discomfort and vice-versa; she often asks for his color whenever he seems to be overwhelmed. They both know how volatile headspaces can be, with the slightest changes making a huge difference in the experience.

He runs his nose along hers, lips tracing along the curves of her face, nibbling teasingly at her chin, down her neck, and grinds himself against her. He sucks on her breasts, biting at her nipples until they’re peaked. She closes her eyes, savoring every spike of bitter pleasure he has to offer. He sits back after a moment, appreciating the glimpse of light that catches her wet skin. He palms himself.

“It’s only fair that I get to come three times since you did. Make us even, right, lovie?”

“But I only made myself come twice.”

Y/N really has the nerve to talk back to him with her hands tied to the headboard, her body exposed to him, the only thing covering her modesty a flimsy pair of underwear. He cocks his head to the side.

“Should we make it four?”

That makes her hesitate, sinking back in the sheets. She shakes her head, cute pouty lips puckering. He would love nothing more than to run his cock along that pretty, dirty mouth, to feel her greedy tongue tracing the underside of him lazily, to wrap his hand around her throat and feel it expand as he fucks her face.

But he knows that she would enjoy it too much.

Too much for a punishment.

Harry traces along the curves of her features, from the slope of her nose to the round of her cheek, soft and lingering, a harsh contrast of what’s to come. He smirks. She parts her lips like a good girl when his thumb passes over them, biting it teasingly. He, then, drags it down her chin, leaving a trail of wetness in its wake.

He can’t help but think about how pretty she would look with cum and spit dribbling from those sinful lips, eyes barely able to stay open. Fucked beyond belief, she would moan his name and other incoherent thoughts oh-so sweetly, her voice wrecked. His grateful babylove, his lovely, satiated Y/N would whisper a soft thank you after taking him so well. He truly wishes he could do that, give her anything she ever desired, make her feel euphoria like never before, a high no one other than him can give her, but she was greedy and naughty and misbehaving.

And she needs to learn a lesson.

Now, he has to tease her, to bring her to the brink of orgasm, only to shatter her, again and again, until she’s on the brink of tears. She’s going to be left unsatisfied, trembling beneath him, while he brings himself to orgasm, again and again, until he’s milked himself dry. She will be grateful if he gives her even a bit of pleasure, but it is not enough to push her to the end.

It would never be enough.

He leans in close, his lips a fleeting embrace, just past her reach. He wants to taste her, but he needs to be patient.

A warmth buries her, and his overwhelmingly familiar scent swallows her, safe and comforting. She doesn’t know she’s even pulling on her restraints until her fingers are numb and tingly, yearning to feel his skin.

Maybe this was a bad idea, but it’s too late to turn back now.

“You can beg and plead all you want,” he says, “but know this: you will not be coming again tonight.”

Her eyes darken, and a satisfied little grin graces her pretty face.

She got what she wanted, tied up and vulnerable to him.

However, this isn’t her game anymore.

Now, she’s at his utter mercy.

“And if you do come, somehow, I will not touch you for a week; not only will you not feel my cock, my fingers, or my tongue, there will be no kisses or cuddles. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“There’s my good girl.”

He unbuttons his shirt, slowly, diligently, his fingers lingering a little long on his inked stomach, knowing that she likes to take her time and admire that part specifically. After he peels the button up away, he finally sits next to her on the bed, his back to her. His belt falls to the floor with a clatter, and she holds her breath.

The silence is deafening, thick with tension. She waits, knowing that patience will help her. She also knows better than to say anything, since it would probably worsen her current predicament. Harry has always been level-headed, even in his dominant headspace, being very patient, especially in trying circumstances. He can take a lot before he snaps. She usually has to beg him to slap her, to spit in her mouth, or to fuck her so hard her legs give out.

This new persona is unpredictable, new, and alluring.

It’s different and all the more arousing.

She shifts, the bed frame creaking. A feeling of naughtiness courses through her, as it did earlier. She wants to see how much she can get away with and how far she can go before he loses control and puts her in her place. She watches him closely, her breathing ragged. She drags a pillow up by her feet, and Harry pays her no mind, perhaps assuming she’s just getting comfortable. His shoulders shift as he nimbly undoes the buttons to his pants, his back muscles tightening and relaxing. He begins taking off his pants, billowy and undoubtedly expensive fabric slipping down one leg at a time slowly, meticulously. The pillow now nestled between her legs, she grinds her hips down, wishing it was his thigh, the one with tiger on it, bared teeth and hungry.

He turns suddenly, and she’s caught yet again, but she doesn’t stop. Instead, she works herself harder, imploring him to stop her—to punish her. The pillow does very little to satiate the pent up tension between her legs, but it’s better than nothing.

Honestly, she knew he was going to catch her in her lies. That's why she made herself come right before he got home. She wants to get caught, the thrill of going against his rules giving her a high she’s still coming down from. And as he looks at her again, fury in his eyes, she could just fall apart. She wants him to put her in her place, punish her for being a naughty, filthy brat.

She wants him to ruin her.

“No,” he growls, ripping the pillow away and effectively knocking her legs back apart. He slaps her pussy with little warning. She squeaks, tugging at the silken restraints. A shaky, guttural moan shutters from her chest, deep and desperate, and her head falls back into the mattress.

“Fuck,” she cries.

The skin of her swollen pussy burns in the most addicting way, leaving her legs spasming, feet slipping down the sheets. She can feel his rings through her panties, just a slight sting, but her clit takes a brunt of the force, and perhaps, that’s what makes it so good.

“No moving.”

He rubs her soothingly, a stark contrast to the fire behind his eyes. Despite how bratty she’s been, her sweet, attentive Harry is still there, making sure she’s taken care of, comfortable, and safe. Her needy hips chase his fingers, a broken plea on the tip of her tongue.

Again.

He twists her panties with his index finger until her puffy pussy swallows them, the swell of her mound bulging from the tight elastic bands. He smacks her again, a little more gentle this time, but hard enough to still make her toes curl. She laughs through a breathy moan, her heart racing. He tsks, mumbling under his breath.

“This is your punishment. You’re not supposed to be enjoying it.” He tugs her panties up tight to her clit. “You’ll take anything I give you. Won’t you? I could spit on you and call you a bitch, and you’ll say thank you. Right, babylove?”

He delivers another resounding slap to her cunt, and then, another for good measure. This time, her back arches from the mattress, eyes rolling back. Fire licks her skin, and it hurts, no doubt, but in such a way that's indescribable; it burns, but it spreads throughout her whole body, and it makes her limbs tingly and warm, yearning for more. Again, he runs his hand along her exposed mound to ease the ache.

“Thank you,” she moans, and he smiles. He spanks her poor pussy raw, again and again, until his hand hurts and her arousal drips onto the sheets. Her thighs threaten to close, but she digs her feet into the mattress, aching for more pain, more pleasure, just more. Her world spins, but at the center of it all is him—striking eyes, teasing smile, and pretty lips—and he’s all hers.

“Taking it so well, pretty girl,” he says, moving to kneel between her spread legs. He can feel the wetness through her panties, and he nudges his head around where her clit is, still blocked by her useless underwear, her pussy visibly tightens with anticipation. He leans back, still close enough to feel the heat from her, and he slips his cock under her panties, the tight, elastic band pulling at his tender skin while her lips massage the underside. She’s wet, perhaps from her orgasms from earlier, but likely from the spanking. He thrusts, wrapped in soaked panties, until the tip of his cock nudges the fabric at the top of her mound, and he twitches when the underwear pulls at the sensitive head in a certain way.

“Such a naughty girl,” he moans, thumbs pulling at the fabric to wrap tighter around his cock. “I’m only fucking your panties, and you’re already soaked.”

He pulls out reluctantly, his cock heavy on her wet underwear. He spits on the fabric and spreads it over her mound, just to tease her little more. She tugs at her restraints and whines from the sudden cold.

A drop of saliva slips past his puckered lips, landing on his open palm, which now cradles his cock. He hasn’t resorted to jerking himself off in a long time; he hasn’t needed to, but he works himself easily, finding a calculated rhythm, fast then slow, quick, eager strokes along the head then long, languid strokes along the entire length. He sits on his heels, and his legs ache from the weight. Her thighs twitch, and she pulls at the restraints. His balls brush against her mound with every movement of his hand, and he swears he can feel her jump with every movement, so sensitive, so responsive. He fucks his fist, hips unconsciously bucking, wishing it is her warmth that coats him, squeezes him, and pulls him in. He yearns to touch her, to feel her smooth skin, but he knows that this lack of physical touch is as difficult for her to bear as it is for him, and that makes it a little better.

Her chest heaves with unsteady breaths, eyes fixated on his hand working his cock. She pulls futilely at the scarves, until her wrists hurt. She knows that she’s not going to be able to get out, but she unconsciously reaches for him. She’s not used to being so exposed, body vulnerable to his gaze, without having him touch her. Sure, their thighs are pressed tight together, but it’s not nearly enough.

This isn’t what she thought was going to happen when she broke his rules. Truly, more so than usual, this is a punishment: to see him work himself to orgasm without being able to touch him. She wishes she was the one to make him squirm, moan, and come.

“Please,” she whines, eyes pleading with him, and he knows what she’s begging for.

“What? You think I want to touch a dirty little brat like you?”

“You’re being mean.”

“I’m being mean? I came home, hoping to spend a nice evening with my good girl, only to find out that she broke my rule,” he says. “My one rule.”

He wishes it was her hand stroking him, eager eyes and tempting smile staring back at him. It would feel so much better than his own calloused fist. He feels himself tighten to signal an impending end, weak but an end nonetheless.

“I wanted nothing more than to come home and to have you come on my tongue more times than you can count, but you couldn’t be patient, and now, you have to take your punishment.”

She twists and squirms beneath him, her body undulating on the sheets. The need that tugs on her features is almost enough to break him, to make him give in and make his pretty girl come on his face, but then he remembers that scheming smile she had on her face, that devious look that made him rife with lust. He remembers that she was on this very bed by herself just before he got home, making herself come, her head thrown back, whining and whimpering. The thought brings the fire back.

He cups her cheek and leans forward, stretching her legs apart, and his cock rests just above her belly button, still cupped in his hand. Her tongue dips out of her mouth. His eager, naughty girl waits for him to spit in her mouth, to shove his ringed fingers down her throat, to do anything, but he pulls back again, and she frowns.

“How did you do it? Did you use your fingers, baby?”

She nods pitifully, and he hums, his strokes quick.

“Yeah? Bet they weren’t as good as mine.” He runs his thumb along the head, pleasure sending chills down his spine, trying to prolong his buildup.

“No one’s fingers will ever be as good as mine.”

He wants to prove it to her, to pound his fingers inside her until she can barely breathe, arousal gushing down his wrist as she comes until she’s crying. He wants to kiss her tears away as she begs for more. Perhaps, with all the teasing and build-up, he could get her to come with just one finger with one well-placed thrust. Her hips buck, and he knows that she’s thinking about that, too. After the stolen orgasm from earlier and the burning spanks her poor pussy received, she must be desperate for anything he’ll give to her.

His orgasm builds quickly, with his thoughts running amuck, visions of her, on her knees before him, choking on him until tears stream down her cheeks, on her back, moaning while he pounds into her, on top of him, grinding down on him, not letting up because she just loves the feeling of him deep inside her belly.

He comes on her tummy, a broken moan slipping past his bitten lips, spurts of his seed stain her pretty skin, and her breath hitches, shocked at the sudden warmth; then, she hums contentedly.

“There,” he sighs, admiring his work.

“Thought you were gonna come three times,” she says softly as he steps off the bed, sore cock heavy between his legs. His knees tremble.

“Open,” he coos, slipping his fingers in her mouth, and she sucks away the remnants of his orgasm. He smooths out her brow with his free hand, brushing away a bead of sweat that sunk from her hairline.

“Who said I’m done with you? No, I’m gonna go shower, and you’re going to stay there with my cum on your tummy and think about what you’ve done.”

He kisses her nose, just like he does every morning after loving on her. It’s a sweet gesture, one that doesn’t match his demeanor. He leaves her there, like he said he would, tied up as he moves to the bathroom, shoulders pushed back, self-assured and composed. Harry steps into the steaming shower, washing away the sweat from his skin.

Y/N whimpers in the next room. She has given up on tugging at the silk scarves; instead, she’s trying to ignore the insatiable throbbing between her legs, her arousal slipping out onto her thighs, like a greedy slut. His words ring in her ears, and it makes the arousal worsen.

She rubs her thighs together to alleviate some pressure, but it’s little use. Perhaps, if she tests him just a little more, he’ll throw away all willpower and ravish her until the early morning hours, but her resolve weakens with every passing minute. She wanted to tease him a bit, maybe get him a little mad, so he would put her in her place. She wanted him to fuck her to oblivion, until she can’t keep her eyes open.

This is a different kind of punishment, one she’s never even considered. In her fantasies, she’s tied up and vulnerable, but he lavishes her with touch until she’s overstimulated, drunk on him, his scent, his touch, his voice.

This is a different kind of punishment, a true punishment in her eyes. The teasing, lingering touches is enough to make her burst, and to have him there but just beyond her reach is near painful.

His cum has nearly dried on her belly, and she wishes he came inside her, stuffed full of his warmth; at least, then, she wouldn’t be so cold, so exposed.

She perks when he steps out of the bathroom, and he wastes no time straddling her hips, his cock twitching against her tummy. The weight of his body on hers is suffocating, her overstimulated senses taking him in, his warmth, his touch, his scent. She can feel every ridge of his body, every drop of water that slips from his clean skin, everything.

It’s almost too much all at once.

“Color?”

She blinks.

“Daddy, please,” she whispers, “want you to fill me up. ‘M such a greedy cock slut. I won’t even come, promise—”

“Y/N, I need you to tell me what color,” he says.

He doesn’t usually use her name when they’re this far into the fantasy, but it seems she needs it now.

“Green,” she breathes out. “Green, green, you feel so good, H. ‘M sorry I touched myself; I just couldn’t help it. Wanna make you feel good, please.”

“I wanna believe you, baby.” He cups her cheek, cold water dripping from his hair and melting into her skin. He takes her in, relishing in the sight of her craving, trembling, and begging for his touch. He likes seeing her on edge like this, dangerously close to teetering off into oblivion.

“But I don’t think it’s really sunk in yet.”

He traces the head of his red cock along the seams of her panties, like he did earlier, but this time, he tugs her underwear aside, mouth watering at the sight of her pretty, puffy pussy, surely sore from the spanking earlier. He spits on her, and he watches as it slips down into her most intimate fold. She’s so responsive to the slightest touch. He spreads her open, lips parted to reveal her wanton pussy. He tugs back the hood of her button, hard and throbbing.

He slaps his cock against her clit, the skin tacky with his spit. The slight, sudden touch is electrifying, and it makes his cock twitch, hungry for more. He can see her tighten up, and her hips jolt. Shivers trail from her spine to the tips of her peaked nipples. He thumps the head of his cock on her clit quickly, concurrent with every keen thrust of her hips, spitting in her every so often, leaving her wet and swollen and filthy, just like she is.

“Thank you,” she whimpers. “Feels so good, daddy.”

He teases the head of his cock just past her lips and nestles himself inside her finally, her warmth swallowing him easily. His eyes flutter closed, savoring what he so desperately needed.

She breathes out sharply when he stops with just the head inside her. This teasing is almost becoming too much.

“More,” she whimpers, “Please?”

He looks at her with fire in his eyes.

“No, you don’t tell me what to do. Besides, I don’t think you deserve my cock.”

She could almost cry. He’s so close, but he won’t go any further, just teasing her with what could have been. She tries to pull him in deeper, her walls tightening around his head. It makes his toes curl, burning pleasure forming in his belly. She tries to pull him in, aching for just a little more. He holds her hips down to keep her from moving.

“Please, I’ve been good. I said I was sorry for making myself come. I’ll never do it again, promise. Please, I just wanna feel you, daddy. That’s all I wanted today.”

“This isn’t about you anymore, babylove. You’re just daddy’s little fucktoy, my little cock slut.” He thrusts slightly, the tender head dragging along her tight opening, never pushing further. “And right now, I wanna hear you cry for my cock.”

Her feet trail up his legs, knees hooked at his hips, frantically trying to pull him in entirely. She tried to be good; she asked him nicely to just fuck her already. At this point, she doesn’t even want to come. She just wants to feel him, to alleviate at least some of the pressure throbbing between her legs. It’s humiliating because she’s near tears, desperate for his cock.

He came not even fifteen minutes ago, and he’s still sensitive. He pulls back until the head is nestled just past her entrance, muscles tight around the tip. He jerks off the base of his cock for more stimulation. A part of the pleasure comes from watching her squirm; she’s so desperate as she yanks at her restraints, hips thrusting and pussy clenching to pull him in deeper. It’s such an odd sensation, her entrance being fairly sensitive, but it’s not enough to stimulate her.

It’s never enough.

“Maybe you’ll come just by the feeling of my cum inside you.”

She honestly might.

The skin of his cock drags back and forth along her sensitive walls as he jerks himself off inside her.

“I bet you will,” he grins. “Just remember, if you come, I will not touch you for a week. Be very careful, Y/N.”

She wiggles pitifully, her arousal dripping down his shaft, and he uses it as lubricant.

“I bet your poor little clit is throbbing,” he teases. “‘M so sorry, babylove.”

He’s not.

There’s a wicked smile that splits his face.

He pulls out suddenly, making her gasp, and thumps his cock some more on her pussy, landing a particularly rough blow to the sensitive part of her exposed clit, puffy with arousal, the hood stretched back.

“Please, daddy,” she whimpers, “more. I’ve been good. I won’t do it again.”

He gives her some more, dragging himself along her fold in languid motions, circling around her clit before he thumps his cock on her pretty little button. She squeaks.

He stuffs himself inside again, just like before with only the head inside her. She groans, tightening up. It’s as if her body has a mind of its own, clenched and frenzied for any type of stimulation. She squeezes him so tightly, and she fights against his hold on her hips.

He comes shortly after, his body curling into itself like it usually does when he has a particularly strong orgasm, back arching with every wave.

Y/N moans when his cum fills her, reaching deep inside her, and her walls clench with need. It’s barely anything, but it’s still more than what he was giving to her before, and she could honestly come from that little bit alone. She’s trying to regain her composure, cunt still throbbing. He kisses her face, like he usually does after he comes, a gentle reminder that he’s still her Harry. He massages her waist, lingering down to her hips. They bask in each others’ warmth, trying to find the energy to move.

That’s normal for him, sweet and mushy and loving.

What she doesn’t expect is him tightening his hold on her hips and thrusting himself fully inside her, his cock still weeping out remnants of his orgasm.

She would scream if she could, but the breath is knocked from her lungs, choked moans passing through clenched teeth. Animalistic and brutal, Harry sets a quick pace, her entire body moving with the power behind his thrusts. Her mind is blank, and her body hums, pleasurable vibrations coursing through her body to every single nerve. She forgets that she isn’t allowed to come, but she couldn’t bring herself to care about the consequences just yet. Finally, she can taste the bittersweet euphoria, making her world dizzy as he fills her again and again. She could almost cry with utter relief.

Yes, yes, this is what she wanted—no, needed—and it’s even better than she dreamt. Her sopping pussy takes him easily, reaching the neediest part of her. She spreads herself further, angling her knees to her chest so he can pound himself deeper inside, cream dripping onto the sheets. Her legs are sticky with their shared arousal.

Harry’s face is flushed, brows furrowed as he loses himself in the feel of her. It’s been almost as torturous for him as it has for her; he doesn’t think he’s ever felt this frantic, never has he felt so desperate to plunge himself into her depths, never has he been so entranced, so sensitive to any touch. His head tips back, features twisted, chest bared, and teeth gritted. His breaths are weak, faltering and shallow. He groans as she tightens around him. Sweat drips down his chest.

“H? Color?”

It takes a moment to pull him back.

“Green, baby,” he says, smiling ever so slightly.

He’s never felt this before, this vulnerable yet powerful, on the verge of pleasure and pain, dancing along a tightrope threatening to snap at any second, such a thrill. He feels light headed, high off of her. He wants to feel her, embrace her, love her.

He rips at the knots around her wrists, fingers trembling, but they won’t budge, and he loses his balance, instead wrapping his arms around her arched back. He nestles his nose in her neck, pulling their chests tight together. She smells of salt and sin and sex, and he can’t control himself.

“So fucking good.”

He presses himself deeper, the head of his sensitive cock nudging the inmost parts of her. He fucks her easily with his cum spilling out with every hard thrust, leaving their connected bodies sticky. He can’t pull out much without his cock weeping with overstimulation, but he can’t stop, the pleasure all too addicting.

“Jus’ one more, lovie,” he whispers. “So close. Don’t you dare come.” He grits his teeth, rubbing at her swollen clit, subtly and just to make it throb, before his hands rest on her lower belly, thumbs connecting just below the button. He fucks into her harder, the bed frame shaking and smacking into the wall.

That’s when realization hits her.

She’s close.

She’s so close, one well placed thrust, one harsh stroke to her clit will push her over the edge.

But she has to hold it off.

His words ring in her ears in time with her racing heart, his threat of no intimacy sobering her. If she thought before was punishment, having to see him pleasure himself without being able to touch him, this is hell. Her orgasm burns painfully in her belly. It tastes so sweet. She clings to the silk restraints. She doesn’t want to give in, but it would feel so good; it would be a high that would leave her lightheaded for hours afterward, and shockwaves of pleasure tightening her muscles as a constant reminder.

She sobs, on the brink of breaking. Her hands tingle, drained of blood. She’s trying to relax, to breathe through the waves of euphoria that crash over her, and it works for a second, but with that, she opens up more, taking him deeper and more easily. That’s when the pleasure would shatter the calm in harsh waves. She closes her eyes, a drawn hum seeping from her chest. He grabs the back of her neck, using it as leverage as he fucks himself deeper into her, and she cries out.

“Look at me,” he demands. She does, barely, her teary eyes glimmering. He smiles, and she feels warm. “There’s my pretty girl. I’m almost there, just a little bit more. Doing so well for me babylove. Don’t come.”

“Please,” she moans, peering through her lashes. “Come for me, daddy.”

She lights a fire in his veins, sending a rippling feeling of ecstasy through his spine. His eyes roll back as he comes once again, his prick pulsating as he empties himself deep inside for a third and final time. Satiated, he grinds his hips against her, wanting to be as close to her as possible. She’s throbbing around him, legs trembling at his sides. She sighs, most likely out of relief but perhaps also out of frustration. As he nestles himself deeper, her lips tremble, features pinching as she tries to hold off an orgasm, clenching so tightly that his softening cock slips out of her. She moans.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, pressing his lips sweetly to her sticky forehead. “You did so well for me, babylove. So proud of you.” Then again to her cheek. He traces up the backs of her thighs, hooking her legs around his waist.

“What did we learn?”

“Don’t touch yourself unless daddy says so,” she whispers, her voice dry. He nods appreciatively, eyes taking in her trembling form, and leans back.

Her thighs twitch occasionally at his sides, and he wants to bite them, skin surely sensitive to the slightest of touches. Sweat and cum and saliva paint her flesh, but the absolute masterpiece is her ruined pussy, swollen and wet and divine. He thumbs at her, gently guiding her lips apart to expose her pink inside, quivering with an insatiable need. He wants to lick up the cum that slips out of her, but she’s been through enough, the aftershocks of her stolen orgasms still visibly lingering in her sore body.

Another time, perhaps.

“That’s right, babylove. I think you finally learned your lesson.”

—

[demonsandco]

Smut Alphabet - Lucifer

All the letters for Luci have been answered now, so here's a post compiling them all together!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

When he’s the one in charge, Luci acts like the king of aftercare. As much as he loves seeing his partner fall apart, he always makes sure to put them back together in the end. His go to thing is running a hot bath for his partner, letting him clean them up while also giving him a reason to hold them close and relax for once. After the bath, he’s pretty much at their beck and call, willing to run out and get them anything they need until they're ready to go to bed. It’s one of the only times when Luci won’t put up a fight about going to bed at a decent hour, instead opting to snuggle under the covers and pulling his partner close to his chest.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

For a long while, Lucifer’s favorite parts of him were his wings, but now they carry too many memories for him to view them with the same light. Now, his favorite body part would be his hands. He has long fingers and a firm grip, perfect for grabbing his partner’s wrists with one hand and pinning them down.

When it comes to his partner, Lucifer’s favorite body part of theirs is their neck. It’s such a vulnerable part of their body and it’s his favorite place to leave marks. It’s a trust thing for him, as well as something that makes him feel powerful. Knowing that he could kill them in a second with his sharp teeth pressed to their throat, yet they trust him not to hurt them excites him to no end.

(cont under the cut)

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Lucifer cums a pretty average amount, but he can do so quite a few times in a row. His favorite place to cum is in his S/O’s mouth or on their face. Marking them in such a way feeds into his pride, and he can’t help but admire how wonderful they look covered on his seed. He would never force them to swallow it when he does this, but if they choose to, he is left feeling awed and even hornier than before.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Lucifer is more than prepared to take this secret to his grave, but he has, on more than one occasion, fantasised about having a pact master use their pact with him during sex, with consent of course. It’s the idea of trusting his partner to the point where he puts his life in their hands and gives them complete control that gets to him. He’d be able to just lay back and stop thinking for once, while they use him however they see fit, without him needing to make a single decision. If his actual S/O ever suggests something like that, he’d be overjoyed internally, but he plays it off as simply playing along with their idea. He refuses to let anyone know how much he enjoys the thought because of how embarrassing he finds it.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Lucifer has quite a bit of experience, but only when it comes to sex involving BDSM dynamics. He doesn’t mind hooking up with someone if he has the option to have complete control for the night. The type of sex he’s used to is very much lacking in emotional connection. He’s left feeling a bit unsure of himself when it comes to more vanilla sex, being the submissive one, or just sex that involves emotions. He knows what he likes and he’s very skilled in the physical aspect, it just takes him a bit of time to get into the flow of things with a partner that he actually cares about. Especially when emotions are involved. He desperately wants his partner to know how much they mean to him, but he’s not quite sure how to translate his emotions into actions from the very start.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Lucifer’s favorite position is surprisingly vanilla in nature. Call him old fashioned or cliché, but he’s very fond of the missionary position. It doesn’t matter to him who’s on the top and who’s on the bottom, he’s fine with filling either role. He enjoys the closeness that it offers, pressing his chest against his partner’s and feeling each time they take a breath. Plus it offers so much versatility! He’s in the perfect place to kiss his partner as much as he wants, but he can also bury his face in their neck, leaving kisses and love bites, while also muffling his moans.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Lucifer very much prefers to take things seriously. He likes keeping the mood sensual and heated, and goofiness gets in the way of that. Some playfulness or teasing is perfectly fine, and even encouraged by him, but outright humor or jokes is something he’d rather avoid. If his partner insists on being humorous, he’d see it as them being bratty, and won’t hesitate to gag or punish them if they don’t listen to his warnings. It makes for a very easy way to rile him up, if that’s what they’re looking to do. His only focus in the moment is their pleasure (or pain) and his behavior reflects that.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

As with anything to do with his appearance, Lucifer takes meticulous care of his body hair. He constantly keeps it trimmed and short, even if he doesn’t have a partner who would be seeing it at the time. He’s prideful of how he looks and puts a lot of time into looking well put together in all aspects, even if no one will see it. He has a nice amount of body hair in general, though, his pubes leading up into a thin happy trail and a light dusting of hair over his chest. It’s all black in colour, just like the base of his hair.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Surprisingly, Lucifer is very intimate in the moment. He considers sex itself to be an intimate and romantic activity. He needs to trust his partner quite a bit to feel comfortable letting them see him in such a potentially vulnerable position and that really shows. Even if he’s acting rough and dominating, he still can’t help but let a bit of softness and love seep into his words and actions. It’s one of the only times where he can voice his emotions easily, without his pride getting in the way.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Despite having a very high libido, Lucifer rarely takes the time to take care of his needs. He usually puts it off in favor of working, until he suddenly realises just how long it's been, and how needy he feels. It leaves him feeling so pent up and tense, not to mention unbearably sensitive, but getting himself off just doesn’t leave him feeling satisfied enough to be worth the time. He would much rather get off with a partner than on his own, and he’s willing to stay all worked up until then.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

This comes as a surprise to no one, but Lucifer loves bondage. Having his partner tied, watching them wiggle helplessly, unable to escape his touch, never fails to excite him and make his heart race. However, not only does Lucifer enjoy tying up his partner, he also loves to be the one getting tied up. The feel of tight ropes biting into his skin as he squirms under their gaze sends blood rushing straight to his dick. Especially when he thinks about how much trust he’s putting in them. He’s leaving himself open and helpless, yet he knows that they’ll never do anything he genuinely dislikes, just as he would never do that to them

On a similar note, Lucifer is also very fond of temperature play, especially when combined with bondage or even sensory deprivation. He likes the subtle blend of pain and pleasure that comes with it, alongside the anticipation of not knowing which will come next. He could spend hours teasing his partner like this, watching their reactions and listening to their cries. Of course, he’ll also let them return the favor, tying him up and teasing his senses with ice cubes and hot wax. He’ll hold in his reactions for as long as possible, and it’s hard to break him, but if they know where to target, they’ll have him begging soon enough. The span of his back, as well as his thighs are extra sensitive and dripping wax across his spine while sliding some ice over his inner thighs will leave him desperate and begging in no time.

Unsurprisingly, the Avatar of Pride has a huge praise kink. Lucifer craves praise from his partner, enjoying the feeling of pride coursing through his body when his partner tells him how good he feels and how well behaved he is. He strives to please them as much as he can, and the validation that he’s a good boy sends pleasure coursing through him. Of course, Lucifer also gets pleasure out of giving his partner praise, too, when he’s the one in charge. He wants them to know how proud he is of them when they’re being good.

On the opposite hand, Lucifer gets a weird amount of pleasure out of being humiliated. He isn’t fond of humiliating his S/O, being humiliated? Having a mere human exert that much power over him? It excites him to no end and he can’t explain why. If they treat him like he’s a lesser being, spit in his mouth, step on his cock, anything like that, Lucifer finds himself cumming so embarrassingly quick. He has to be in a specific headspace to enjoy it, but when he is, having his pride crushed in such a way feels like such a thrill.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Lucifer is a very private man and refuses to risk being caught in the act. The riskiest he’ll get is his office, but more often than not, it’s going to take place in his room. He prefers to take his time with his partner anyway, and that's much easier to accomplish on a comfortable bed, rather than somewhere else. He has more than enough self control to avoid doing anything too sensual outside of his room, where he feels safe.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

He’ll never admit it, but seeing his s/o acting bold or taking charge never fails to excite him. It makes his mind wander and Lucifer can’t help but imagine them acting that way towards him, disregarding his rank and power and taking control of him. He’s almost ashamed of having such fantasies, but that just serves to excite him further.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Exhibitionism of any level is a big no for Lucifer. He has a hard enough time showing regular affection in public, and anything even remotely sexual in nature crosses his limits. He considers what he shares with his partner to be very personal and vulnerable and he refuses to have anyone else see him in such a state. He’s also not fond of anyone having a chance to see his partner in a disheveled state. In his mind, their body and reactions are for his eyes only. No one else even comes close to deserving to see them like that.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Lucifer very much prefers giving oral over receiving, and he’s damn good at it, too. He loves the amount of power it gives him, allowing him to control exactly how much pleasure he’s giving his partner. He knows exactly how to use his mouth to get specific responses from them. He’s also a quick learner and adapts to his partner’s preferences very fast.

While Lucifer doesn’t hate being on the receiving end, it takes some time for him to be open to the idea. Letting his partner have so much control over his pleasure leaves him feeling vulnerable and he has a harder time controlling his reactions. It takes every ounce of control he has not to grab the back of their head and set the pace himself, but he finds that it’s more worth it in the end to give them complete control.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Lucifer’s pace heavily depends on the mood of the night. If both he and his partner are stressed and need some relief, he’s more than happy to go hard and rough. He does enjoy taking his time, though, and if his schedule allows it, he’d much rather keep things sensual and slow. Intimacy is a very important part of sex for him, and a fast pace feels like it brings things to an end too quickly for him to fully enjoy it all the time, but he still likes the roughness of it. Regardless of who’s in control of the pace, he enjoys it best when there’s a healthy balance, starting out hard and fast, before gradually slowing down and letting some romance seep in, only to speed up once again as he and his partner get close to finishing.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Lucifer is a very busy demon, meaning that sometimes all he has time for is a quickie, but that doesn’t mean he likes them. When he’s with his partner, he wants to be able to take his time with them, keep a slow and sensual pace, but he often can’t find the time for it. He always thinks a quickie would be better than nothing, but they often just leave him feeling even more pent up and desperate.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Lucifer isn’t the most open person when it comes to experimentation. Mostly because he’s already had experience with many kinks throughout his long life, and he feels that he’s got a very good idea of what he’s into. There are very few things his partner could suggest that he either isn’t completely against or that he hasn’t already tried. If they do manage to find something that he’s unsure of yet, he’s more than happy to try it out for them, as long as it’s in a controlled environment. His partner has a much higher chance of getting him to experience something new if he’s the submissive one for the night. Chances are he’ll end up enjoying it, even if he was a bit unsure at first. He thrives off of pleasing his s/o and they’ll quickly find that he has very few limits.

Lucifer is very fond of everything being safe and controlled, regardless of who is in charge for the night. He outright refuses to do anything he’d consider obscene anywhere that someone else could walk into. He wants anything that happens to stay between him and his partner, and his not a fan of risking that in any way.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Lucifer has quite a lot of stamina, when he's not exhausted and overworked, at least. He's not exaggerating when he says he'll keep his partner busy all night long. He can take a few more rounds than the average human, but they last for ages. He's skilled at holding off his own orgasms, capable of making his partner cum on his cock a couple times at least, before finally letting go himself. He uses this to his advantage often, wanting to make sure he completely satisfies them before reaching his own peak.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Lucifer has a rather impressive collection of toys, or perhaps tools would be more accurate. He doesn't own anything like dildos or vibrators, but he has everything from different styles of restraints, to paddles, to whips. He has no qualms using some of the… less extreme tools in his collection on his partner, and he's not opposed to adding some more commonly seen sex toys to the mix, as well. If they show interest, he's more than happy to switch roles and lend them his tools, but he greatly prefers the feel of his partner's body, rather than a plastic toy.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Lucifer is a huge fan of teasing his partner, but he’s very easily swayed by begging. He could genuinely spend hours teasing them and finding new ways to make them react, but as soon as they beg him for more, he loses all semblance of patience and control. Hearing his partner beg feeds straight into his pride, and he’s always weak when it comes to their wants and needs.

Lucifer himself is rather fun to tease as well. It may not be his favorite thing, but he enjoys it from time to time. It takes a lot of practice and patience to actually break him, though, but it’s more than worth it in the end. What’s better than seeing the Avatar of Pride crying and groveling, pleading for his partner to let him cum?

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Lucifer purposefully keeps himself quiet, doing his best to avoid making any sort of embarrassing noises. It works pretty well for him at first, the most that’s coming out of his mouth being soft gasps or groans from behind his clenched teeth, but the closer he gets, the less controlled his voice becomes, letting sweet, delicate moans slip out. He’s still not the type of person to be extra loud or talkative, but it’s not uncommon to hear soft words of praise in between the whiny noises he can’t seem to silence anymore.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Despite the sadistic and domineering persona he puts on, most of the time, Lucifer actually prefers to be the submissive one. He spends every waking moment of his life feeling like he needs to be in control and trying to take care of everything, that what he really craves is to just lay back and have someone else take the reins. It takes a huge amount of trust for Lucifer to admit this, but once he does, he’s willing to let his partner do whatever they want to him.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Lucifer's dick is an impressive sight, but isn't too intimidating. He has a lot of length, more than the average human, and just enough girth to provide a stretch, without requiring extensive prepping. His skin flushes easily, making his a cock a pretty pink colour when he's hard. The thing that stands out the most, though, is that he has piercings down there. There's three to be exact, all lined up on the underside of his cock, forming a Jacob's ladder. They match the nipple piercings that he also keeps hidden under his clothes.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Lucifer’s sex drive is pretty high compared to the average human, but it really isn’t very high for a demon. He’s always so pent up, however, that you’d never be able to tell that. He’s always busy, and when he does have time to spend with his S/O, he wants to do something romantic with them first, constantly pushing aside his need in favor of something else. By the time he’s finally alone and in the mood with them, he's so desperate and sensitive that he comes across as constantly horny, when he’s actually just denying himself until he can’t handle it anymore.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Lucifer has a horrible sleep schedule and struggles to get some rest even when he’s tired. The chances of him falling asleep before his partner are extremely low, even if they wore him out. Even if he doesn’t have any work he feels pressured to finish, chances are that once he finishes taking care of his partner, he’s still going to stay up. He’ll stay in bed if they ask him to, but he’ll find something to read or put on some soft music to keep him busy for a few hours, until he finally feels like he can rest.

[mackenzielovee]

blurb 3 & 4 with rafe? maybe angsty but with a fluffy ending :) 💕

a/n: helloooo my love. I made this a little longer than I hoped but i hope you love it anyway. thank you for the request! <3

warnings: swearing, blood

my writing

none of your business - rafe cameron

Two o'clock in the morning.

That's what time Rafe Cameron decides to beat on the front door of the guest house, knowing he's going to wake you but not necessarily caring. You rub the sleep from your eyes and curse the floor for being so cold under your bare feet as you yank the door open, ready to kill whoever stood on the other end.

"Rafe," you groan when you see him. He notes your expression change when you take in his appearance.

His eyes are red all around, one of them starting to bruise underneath. You can see lines from tears that have since dried resting on his cheeks, which are now mixed with the blood seeping from the cuts on his face. Your eyes trail down his body to his ripped shirt and his bloody knuckles, making you sigh loudly. Your shoulders relax from their tense position as you know you can't be mad at him anymore.

"Are you gonna let me in, or?" he questions.

You've been staying with the Cameron's for a while now.  Since you've moved onto the property, you and Rafe haven't exactly been getting along. Which only adds to you confusion as to why he's come to you.

You sigh and hold the door open wider for him to enter, not necessarily inviting him inside. You watch as he looks at you emotionless, only for a second, before entering.

"Why are you here?" you ask as you follow him to the kitchen.

He starts opening and closing random cabinets, clearly not finding whatever it is he's looking for. He completely ignores you, which only adds to your annoyance.

"Rafe?" you grumble, staring at him so intently you could probably burn a hole in the side of his head.

He barely glances over at you, looking at you more as if you're a nuisance than a help.

"Do you not have, like, band-aids and shit?" he asks, digging through one of the drawers and then slamming it shut when it doesn't contain what he wants.

"In the bathroom."

He stands up straight and rolls his eyes, then finally looks over at you. He notes the sleepy look in your eyes and how cute you look in your little matching pajama set, paying extra attention to your little shorts lingering a little too high on your legs.

"Can you help me?" he asks, his voice a little softer than before.

You nod, surprised at his question, then point to your bathroom as if he doesn't know where it is. He walks in front of you and enters the bathroom first, pulling off his ripped and bloody shirt the second he enters. He throws it on the floor, not particularly caring where it lands. You sigh and he smirks, knowing he's achieved his goal of annoying the shit out of you every chance he gets.

You pull out your first-aid kit, ready to fix him up and stop the bleeding from his knuckles. You wet a washcloth and reach out, waiting on him to give you his hand.

"Sorry about the blood," he smirks as he lightly places his hand in yours.

You roll your eyes, "Consider this my rent payment for the month."

"Nah," he shakes his head.

"What even happened?" you ask, focusing on cleaning and not bothering to look up at him.

"None of your fucking business."

You sigh, reaching down and dabbing rubbing alcohol on your washcloth. You don't bother to warn Rafe before you press it to his open wounds on his knuckles.

"Fuck!" he swears, yanking his hand away, "Jesus."

"Sorry," you shrug absentmindedly.

You pretend not to notice his little sarcastic laugh as he figures out that you did it on purpose, then ignore the way he slaps his hand back in yours. You start cleaning again, but decide to be more gentle this time. Rafe takes a small step toward you, then another, making you look up at him. The look in his eyes is different - almost like he's up to something.

"You think that's funny?" he whispers, leaning his head down so he's level with you.

"I didn't mean to," you swallow, completely intoxicated with his scent as it wafts over you.

He brings his good hand up to tip your chin so you're looking up at him now. You've never found Rafe attractive, but something about how his voice got low and raspy, the way he smells, and the fact that you're exhausted have you completely wrapped around his finger.

"Mhm," he hums, smirking slightly, "How about.."

He trails off, bringing his head back down to you again. Just as your lips are about to touch, he speaks again.

"How about you fucking clean me up, or I'll make sure you're out of here permanently by tomorrow."

You pull away from him quickly, ducking your head to hide your rosy cheeks from him. He laughs, but can't help but feel bad when he sees how embarrassed you are. He sets his other hand on the counter, then lifts it up again, leaving blood on your white countertops.

"You're getting blood everywhere," you say quietly, still trying to shake off what had just happened.

"I said I was fucking sorry, sweetheart," his voice is raspy again, making you weak at the knees.

You finish cleaning him up in silence, trying to pretend like he hadn't really gotten to you. By the end of it, Rafe really feels guilty, but he's not sure how to fix it. He really had no idea you'd even let him go that far.

"There," you say when you're done, "You know the way out."

You start to leave the bathroom, gasping when Rafe grabs onto your wrist and spins you back around to face him. His expression holds the same one it did when he asked you to help him clean up - soft and sweet.

"Hey," he says quietly, "I'm sorry about before. I was just messing with you."

You shrug, pretending like it didn't bother you. He groans internally, mad that you're making him work for it.

"Do you think," he pauses, slowly bringing his hand down to your own, "I could stay the night? Dad will kick my ass if he sees."

You want to point out that his wounds won't heal overnight, but you also don't really want him to leave. Something about him staying the night excites you.

"Couch is free," you shrug again.

He tugs you even closer to him, using his had hand to reach up and stroke the skin on your cheek. You stop breathing, you swear you do, as he touches you. His skin feels hot against your own.

"I don't sleep on couches," he says quietly, leaning down and pressing his lips to your jaw.

You moan lightly at the feeling, trying to remember how to breathe.

"Rafe."

"Hmm?"

"Rafe."

"What, princess?" he laughs lightly as he pulls his lips off you to see what you need.

"What are you doing?" you finally ask, still feeling like you're on fire.

"Isn't it obvious?" he asks, and when you just stare, he continues, "I'm just trying to get into your bed."

Your heart sinks as you sigh and try to pull out of his grip. He laughs lightly, tightening around your hand.

"No. No, baby. I'm joking. I'm just kidding."

You huff and turn back to him, but refuse to look him in the eye. You really can't tell with him anymore.

"Honestly?" he says after a minute, his voice soft once again, "I really just want to cuddle with you."

You finally allow yourself to look up at him, trying to determine if he's serious. He looks different, more vulnerable than usual. He can tell by the look on your face that you really don't want to play games with him anymore, so to show you he's serious, he leans down and presses his lips to yours.

He tastes salty, probably a result of the tears that fell down his face earlier. You sink into the kiss and swear you could do it forever just as he pulls away.

"Please?"

"Yeah, okay," you nod, watching him smile victoriously.

He leads you to your bedroom, the one you had been alone in only half an hour ago, and only releases your hand to remove his jeans. He throws them on the floor and crawls under your covers, holding his arms open for you.

You sink in beside him and you two quickly mold into one another. The fit is perfect. His arm around you, your head on his chest, other hand stroking gently through your hair.

"I've been thinking about this for a while," he admits.

"Really?"

"Yeah," he says, then after a minute, "Stay here as long as you want. It's nice having you here."

You smile against his chest. After a few minutes, you feel him stop the stroking of your hair, then soft snores coming from above you. You fall asleep only a few minutes after him, way more content with him than you had been sleeping alone.

blurb list here! please send requests to my ask box!

[nocturnal-slut]

Nsfw alphabet of c!Techno?

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

After a scene, Techno is a complete different person. During a scene Techno is completely rough (most of the time) but after the scene, Techno is making sure 100% that everything you need is met. This man will run you the perfect bath or if you're too tired for that, know that he is cleaning you up and then holding you while he tells you the story of Thesus for the 100th time. He will get anything for you after a scene, name it and he'll be right there with it

―――――――――――

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His favourite body part of his are his hands, he just loves how nice they look around your throat, especially when they're covered in blood after a fight. Just seeing how his bloody hands are so mesmerizing around your throat

It's hard for Techno to pick a favourite body part of yours, its a tie between your shoulders and your hair. He likes your shoulders since he's able to bite down enough to draw enough blood that there isn't too much of an injury to you. He also likes your hair since its easy to pull when you're being a brat

―――――――――――

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Being a pig hybrid and all, Techno has a huge breeding kink on certain days. Most of the time he prefers to see you swallow his cum but on other days, he goes for multiple rounds until his cum is dripping out of you

―――――――――――

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He's addicted to smelling you, knowing every little detail even. How you taste, how you smell, what makes you tic, he wants to know you better than you know yourself

―――――――――――

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He's kind of sex repulsed, however he does have a lot of knowledge under his belt. You're lucky to see how rabid Techno can become in the moment

―――――――――――

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Techno likes to see your face while he's destroying you, doesn't mean doggy isn't out of the question however, easier to spank your ass when you do something without his permission

―――――――――――

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Techno is always pretty serious. During aftercare he can become pretty goofy but during the actual scene, he's completely serious in the act. Degrading, praising, worshiping, everything he does is with complete seriousness. Sex is often very serious for him. It takes a lot of planning and conversation to do quite a bit of the stuff he likes to do. He wants to know everything you want; how you’re feeling at that moment; if anything has changed; if you’re in the correct emotional state. He has to make sure you enjoy yourself as much as he does.

―――――――――――

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Its a reasonable amount, just a couple pink curls

―――――――――――

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Techno likes to be intimate with those he cares about and trusts, he is definitely very loving during the moment. Whether its a slow loving scene or a rougher scene, he will always have a hand on your waist, his lips on your neck marking every part of your skin showing his affection

―――――――――――

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

When he's off on missions with Phil and you can't come, Techno will definitely jerk off to the thought of you or if you just aren't in the mood, he'll happily just jerk off

―――――――――――

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Such a massive blood kink, this man craves the taste and smell of your blood. (And if you're afab, know very well that he will not hesitate to fuck you when you're on your period).

He also has a huge breeding kink although he refuses to admit it, he blames it on his piglin side, making him want to fill you up and watch you swell with his children although the idea of being a father actually scares him

―――――――――――

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He prefers to do it somewhere in private, most of the time your shared bedroom (altho the training room isn't out of the question). Techno likes bending you over objects, usually a counter or desk and having his way with you. Though having you tied up is also great. He wants you at his mercy, completely dependant on him.

―――――――――――

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

When you get cocky he won't hesitate to just flip you over and completely ruin you until you're begging for him to stop because its you're so overstimulated and overwhelmed

―――――――――――

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He is completely turned off at the thought of hurting you, cutting you for blood or hair pulling he can handle but anything harsher than that he doesn't trust himself with. As much as he'd wish to, he is terrified about what the voices would try to tell him if he went too far

―――――――――――

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He much prefers giving you oral, he won't say no to a blowjob but he's much more into watching you squirm and squeeze your legs around him in pleasure

―――――――――――

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Its a mix of the two depending on his mood. He loves to have his slow, romantic, sensual scenes especially before he goes on a mission or a war, makes him motivated to do well and come home. But for the most part, he prefers fast and rough scenes. Depending on the type of sex you’re having, he’ll grab/touch different parts of your body (more so than everything else, at least). When it’s slow sex, he’ll grab your hands, intertwining them with his own, kissing them, just being very soft. However, during rougher sex, he likes your shoulders and butt. Biting, kissing, licking, grabbing, kneading.

―――――――――――

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

If you are a mission with him, a quickie is a good way for you two to just get off but for the most part, Techno doesn't like them, he likes taking his time with you and he can't have that with quickies

―――――――――――

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Techno is down to trying anything at least once, mention to him and he's down to try

―――――――――――

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Techno will make sure you come a few times before he even thinks about coming himself. His minimum amount of rounds is 4 but he could definitely go for more if you're up for it

―――――――――――

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He's not a fan of toys, he finds no point in them. He will use rope to tie you up or blindefolds but that's pretty much it. He sees it as if he can do it, there's no point for a toy

―――――――――――

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He is a complete tease, he likes restraining you so he can have his own way with you, gives him such an ego boost

―――――――――――

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He's not very loud, maybe a grunt or two, he prefers to use his words. Praising and worshiping how well you look under him, degrading if you're not obeying him

―――――――――――

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He is embarrassed about a fantasy of his. Techno wears a crown, and as a kid he used to be referred to as a prince. Well now he likes to imagine he has a throne. He’s thought about you worshipping his cock with your mouth while he sits on his throne. He probably would never bring up this fantasy with you but if you ever mention something like that, he will be quick to agree.

―――――――――――

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He’s more average in length down there but thick as all hell. There will be a burn as he stretches you but trust me, it will feel good~

―――――――――――

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

His sex drive pretty much matches your own, if you're horny just ask him and he will be on you. He has made his match yours so he'll always be ready when you are

―――――――――――

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Techno already doesn't sleep a lot, when he does, he makes sure you're asleep way long before him, just wants to make sure you know you're safe and loved

[bonny-kookoo]

Rabbit Boy | JJK x Reader | 🔞

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Wordcount: 10.3k (Long)

Genre: Romance, Friends/strangers to lovers, Smut, BDSM because I'm making that a genre now

Tags/Warnings: BDSM themes (please I'm begging you stop reading my shit if it makes you uncumfortable), mentions of restrainment, light shibari, edging, orgasm denial (very mild), Subspace, Domspace because yes thats a thing, Dom/sub dynamics, Biting, Oral (m and f receiving), riding, and not the horseback kind if you know what I mean, protected sex yes, we love an organized household, there's just so much sweet filth istg

Summary: Jungkook is wild, untamed, and doesn't really commit to anyone for long. But maybe, you're his only exception in this world. Maybe, you're really that perfect partner he's been looking for.

Jungkook likes to think of himself as an artist.

Sure, if people knew exactly what the young man does in his freetime (or as a side job, don't judge, we all want to make money out of our hobbies stop lying to yourself), they would surely look at him differently.

But he's an artist, nonetheless.

Technically, Jungkook also doesn't need to do what he does simply for the money. No, his main job pays very well- considering that he's one of the top elite in his genre of games. He doesn't just merely play and win a game; Jungkook, just like most things he touches, claims complete ownership of the match he's fighting. It's a well known fact that he's someone who likes things for himself. He loves control, craves to lead, and hates to be belittled.

Oh and yeah- financially, investing in an indie-game three years back had also done his bank account some good.

Now, at an age where he can be fully considered a man, and not a boy anymore, he craves control in different aspects of life- and love.

Jungkook has a problem however.

He's wild.

Not in the way one might think he is (although several people could argue that yes, that's also the case in bed..) but generally. He loves to control- but he hates to be tied down.

And a mindset like that doesn't work well with relationships.

He's had them before, don't get him wrong. He's had numerous in the past, but they all either broke apart because he would hold that particular desire back, making him antsy and moody, or he would welcome his partners into his world, and become uncomfortable with the way things would progress.

No, he doesn't want to experiment. He knows exactly what he wants, and if that means he's 'close-minded' and a bad person, then so be it for him.

He never liked the constant company in his apartment anyways.

"Ah, I've seen her before. She's usually a regular for Yoongi though." Taehyung says, checking a name for Jungkook, who's doodling on a napkin while he waits for his new appointment to show up. "I see. I forgot that Yoongi took some days off recently- that's probably why she's now under your hand." He explains, and Jungkook huffs, his blonde hair tickling his cheek.

"So I'll have to adjust? I mean, Yoongi's style is pretty different from mine." The young man says, not looking up. He simply continues his little sketch of braided hair, while the lanky guy behind the counter clicks away on his laptop.

"Probably? I can't check the logs since they're private, but from what I know Yoongi only did the usual with her." he explains, shrugging as he looks at his friend and colleague. "I can re-schedule her to Hoseok if you want?" He asks, and Jungkook, after finishing his drawing, lets the pen fall and stretches.

"Yeah, that would probably be best. Wouldn't know what to do if she drops- rather not have him rip my head off, thanks." He says, before he gets up.

"Ah- you're still coming over tonight right? Y/N said she's gonna cook for us." He says, and Jungkooks body shivers a little.

Your name is nothing new to him, but the reaction to it most certainly was. You're a friend of Yoongi and Hoseok, having joined in on their gaming nights a few months ago after Yoongi had insisted you couldn't stay alone on a christmas day. Jungkook had never really asked why you were alone in the first place, but he had never really cared much for it either. Sure, you were an absolute gem to look at; technically absolutely his type, but he had early on decided not to pursue anything at all with you. He knew friendship wouldn't stay friendship with you, his own hunger way too large to simply be satiated by platonic gestures-

and he was also sure you wouldn't be able to handle him, truly. The conversation with Jimin, one of your best friends, had changed nothing about that. Because he didn't know you well enough to quite know if you were only bark and no bite- or if you were genuinely craving the same things he did.

But most recently, there had been a change in his opinion on you. Because he had seen you, come out of this place, out of Yoongis studio.

You knew about all of this- and you were still around.

Nothing had changed.

Now, of course he had instantly poked holes into the poor guy about if he had ever played with you before- and the answer he had gotten, had made him even more interested and antsy to get closer to you.

Because while you trusted Yoongi with everything you had, he had never done anything with you. You had simply been interested in watching a scene unfold- and had told him that you were definitely interested in participating. The reason Jungkook couldn't ask you directly was a clear one-

You were majorly intimidated by him, to the point of, he had never really had a proper conversation with you. Partially, he had to admit, because he himself didn't want to involve himself too much with you.

He’d always asked himself; wouldn’t you be even more distant and reserved with him if you knew this side of him? Sure, you always joked around that he probably tied his girls up and edged them until they cried- but did you know that he genuinely enjoyed these things?

Relationships for him were mere covers to call the arrangements he had with the girls that came and went in his life in a constant changing matter. Deep down, no one night stand could satisfy his most carnal desires, and he was very well aware of that. But he rather took what he could get and lived a fever dream for a few moments than stay on his own simply because his idea of pleasure and sex was not the norm.

No, he refused to deny himself that.

Maybe it was because he’d always lived a rather lavish life- with his parents well off and his own career skyrocketing he never really had any worries like you have had in the past. For some odd reason, while looking at the soft red rope in his hands, his thoughts suddenly went astray; he knew he could give you the stability you oh so craved, in every way shape and form. You were a diamond simply waiting to be perfected- you had so much potential, knowing that you were secretly wandering around the same paths as he did made him even more frustrated.

The hints were there, they were obvious; from the way you had sighed out in bliss when he’d teasingly pulled your hair just hours ago, to the sinful confessions he’d heard that night when he overheard you and jimin by accident. Of course he’d maybe wasted a thought or two of you underneath him to humor him once or twice- but now with the rope in his hands, his mind immediately began painting pictures of it against your skin. Would you enjoy it? And what if he took your sight, or only bound your hands? What if he denied you to cum, or if he took you from behind, grabbing your hair and pushing down your spine to make it arch so prettily- never with the intend to hurt, of course. He knew he’d have to tame you first, make you submit, but then again, he loved the challenge.

You made even the idea of touching fun.

He wouldn't even have to undress you to fully get himself worked up, he was sure of that. Only seeing you bow to his very command would be enough to satisfy him. Of course, over the course of time he would lead you deeper and deeper into his rabbit hole, but he would take it slow for you.

So, with a smile, and a wave of his hand, he walked past the girl he knew had been his appointment- grinning at Taehyung. "Of course I'll be there."

He wouldn't dare miss a night with you.

You were stressing. A little.

Maybe.

Maybe a lot.

Everything would've been fine if they guys would've all come over. But due to the bad weather, and Taehyungs bad habit of never properly fixing his god-forsaken dumpster of a car, only one of them would be able to make it. And of course the one had to be Jeon Jungkook.

Just great.

Now, it wasn't like you didn't like the guy, no way. The problem was more, that he was on the exact opposite of that spectrum. You had a major crush on him, which felt like the plot to a really bad drama show you would watch drunk at night- and in a way, it really felt like one too. Because you were pretty sure, he didn't even know your name.

But oh well- apparently he knew more than that. More specifically, your phone number. And it had scared the shit out of you at first to receive a message from him because how the hell did he get your number, but then again you remembered that one of your connections was Kim Taehyung- and everyone knew what he knew.

It was the doorbell that ripped you out of your skin almost.

You didn't even change, deciding any effort would be too late anyways; and you were still heavily confused in the first place why the fuck he would come over alone, even though you two had never exchanged much more than a friendly hello and goodbye. But there he was, as you opened the door- soft, white hoodie and ripped jeans, a bit damp from the rain outside as you let him inside.

He didn't move.

"Uh-" You started, but he just looked at you, friendly as ever, although a teasing glint in his eye made you frown a bit.

He thought it was cute.

"You didn't tell me to come in." He said, and you blinked once, twice, before your brain had properly restarted.

"Oh uh- come in?" You said, again, moving a bit to the side so he could walk in- which he still didn't. "Jungkook come on now its fucking cold-!" You whined, and he laughed, finally stepping inside. Had he always been like that? Could very well be the case, after all, you had never truly paid much attention to his behavior before.

"Thanks for letting me come over." He said, and you watched him as he untied his boots. "I had nothing else to do- and also, I didn't want you to waste any food, considering Tae said you cooked for us." He explained, before he got up again from his half kneeling position, boots now standing next to your significantly smaller shoes.

"Ah, it would've been fine, you guys don't have to feel bad." You waved off, smiling. "I was about to stop cooking anyways when Jimin had texted me, but well, then you did and uhm.." You drifted off, noticing how you were suddenly waiting for him to lead the way.

In your own apartment.

What the hell?

If he noticed however, he didn't show it. He simply smiled, and moved his hands inside the front pocket of his hoodie. "Ah, thanks. I appreciate it, really." He said, and you smiled at him as well, walking towards the main area of your apartment. It was small, very small compared to his own, but he enjoyed the feeling of it. Everything around him reminded him of you, in a way; from the pictures taped to the walls, to the stickers on your fridge. It all held a piece of you in it. "Your apartment is really nice, by the way." He commented, and you turned around, before getting plates and cutlery to bring inside the living room.

"Ah, right, it's your first time here." You said. "Thanks- the living room is right around the corner there, you can just sit down and I'll bring everything there." You explained, and he smiled, nodding without arguing.

You liked that.

Typically, there would've been this awkward 'oh no let me help you', but Jungkook didn't seem to dwell on it much, letting you do your thing instead of butting in and making things weird. He simply walked where you had directed him, sitting down on the couch as he went to place a blanket to the side. His fingers moved over the fabric for a moment, noticing how everything on the couch, including the pillows, were made of that same, soft material.

Interesting.

"Oh- you can just put that to the side, sorry I forgot to clean that up." You said, putting the food onto the table as he just smiles again. He waits for you to sit down as well before you turn up the TV volume a little, nerves finally setting in as you notice there's almost nothing you can talk to him about. "This is awkward." You comment, and he chuckles at that swallowing his bite as he looks at you.

"Doesn't have to be." He states, before he turns his body a bit more into your direction; a visible sign that he wants a conversation. "Tae has never mentioned what you do for a living." He states, an unasked question of his. He lets you decide if you want to take it as one or leave it as a statement- it makes you feel nice, in a way.

"Ah uh.. it's really boring, so I guess I never really talk about it either.." You say, and he tilts his head a little, a silent urging for you to continue. You feel insignificant next o him and his job however. He's superior to you in any way, and you don't want him to feel pity or laugh at you for your job. "I uh.. I'm a programmer for a.. pretty unknown game studio." You say, body almost shrinking in on itself as you wait for his reaction. Much to your surprise however, he makes a sound that's purely surprise, as he swallows his bite with a bit of urgency.

"Fuck really?! That's so cool though!" He argues, brows furrowed a bit as he playfully accuses you with his next words. "Indie or not, a programmer is the main force of any game. Did you work on any games I might know of?" He asks, eyes sparkling as he realizes he had finally found something to bond with you over.

"Uh.. 'Rabbit Boy' was our best hit until now.." You say, still a bit shy, but you're also a tad more confident now. His reaction is either well-staged, or he's genuinely interested in what you do.

"I played it I think. It was a bit short, but I loved the mechanics." He says, and before he can quite stop himself, his hand has already reached out to you, running over your hair as he praises you like second nature. "Wuah, so smart!" He says, before he gets a reaction he wouldn't have thought he'd get from shy-you.

Because you playfully shove him, your socked feet pushed against the side of his thigh as you giggle at him.

Interesting, again.

Now, Jimin has actually told him about this before. How you were anything but the shy girl when you were around people you knew and trusted. He had believed it- to an extend- because he had also thought that maybe you were like that to prove your spot between those guys. As the only girl, you easily got thrown under the bus, so you had to somehow own your spot in the midst of your circle of friends.

However, it seemed like you were truly just a brat, hiding behind that innocent facade of yours. A barking dog, with every intent to bite if needed.

And Jungkook knew, he'd love to tame you, show you your spot, and make you his prey.

The trashy movie your watching bores you, in a way. Jungkook has noticed this already, having taken note of your feet wiggling around, your teeth nibbling on the inside of your cheek, as you rest your cheek on your hand, elbow resting on the side of the couch.

“I don’t know why she’s so hesitant.” You mutter, pouting as you slump into the couch- uncaring that the side of your body now leans against his own. He feels your warmth- and for some reason it brings him comfort to notice that you’re seemingly growing more at ease. “I mean, it’s what she’s into, right?” You say, brows furrowed as you watch the screen.

“It’s not that simple.” Jungkook explains, trying to not make it obvious that he’s not necessarily talking about the movie. “Some men like to you know.. fight for a partner. Impress them. Win them over.” He explains, and he can feel you shift a little- until your head raises a bit, watching him as he watches you; gazes locked, and you can’t look away. You’re shy, you’re growing restless, but his eyes are like magnets; there’s no way you can avert your gaze.

“And.. you?” You ask, voice not loud at all, as if you don’t even notice you’re saying it. He loves that- loves the fact that you’re slowly letting him closer- not only physically.

“I like to earn my spot in their lives.” He states, and your mind suddenly begins to spin. You’ve always seen him as someone who doesn’t care much about emotions or feelings, or relationships for that matter. And maybe he doesn’t- maybe he just says this because he knows your weak spots. But the way his words fall into your ears makes you believe him. “I like to see my partner thrive; I love to see them grow. And..” he says, boldly deciding to slowly reach out his hand that was placed on the back of the couch- his fingers running through your hair, only brushing through, never pulling (no matter how much you’re craving it secretly). “I love to see them let go.” He humms out, and there’s a sudden shiver down your back, one that he definitely notices.

This is it. This is where you’ll let him touch you, let him wreck you, let him ruin you. You lean in closer, and so does he, but just when your lips are about to touch, he smiles gently- a warm affectionate gesture that you’ve never seen from him. And with it being directed at you, it’s even more meaningful- but it’s all about his next move, the way his inked fingers trace your cheek, before he speaks.

“You’re not ready yet.”

And with that, he turns back to the TV.

You huff, and it's the first time you know exactly what you're doing. You knew from Yoongi what Jungkook did in his freetime- you knew that this stuff was his expertise. Defeated, you looked down towards your knees, as your thoughts start to grow more and more frustrated. He probably didn't even see you like that, having only visited you out of pity, and not because he wanted to see you.

You were probably already friendzoned, and he was too nice to outright say it into your face. It made your emotions turn sour as the situation grew more and more awkward for you.

"What're you thinking about?" He asks, and you don't answer. What was there to say anyways? You really didn't want to have this weird conversation where he would tell you that oh yeah you're a nice girl, but he's not the right guy, the usual stuff you've already heard time and time again. "Y/N." He says, his voice dropping a little, but you only chew on the inside of your cheek again, eyes moving towards the TV screen. You didn't want to talk- you just hoped he would now sigh and get up, leaving so you could forget about all of this. You could maybe fake being sick for the next week or so to avoid him, yeah, that would be enough time to gloss over this entire situation. But he only clicks his tongue, hands suddenly moving your legs as he moves your body to face him.

Looking at his face is your first mistake.

His eyes are dark and almost angry, irritated as he looks as you. His jaw is clenched, and his hands stay on your knees for a moment, before he's sure enough that he has your attention. Only then does he speak, his voice nowhere near as soft and light as it had been before. "I know what you're thinking, and I don't like it." He says, and that's when you make your second mistake.

"Can we not right now? You don't know shit." You say, and he stares you down for a moment, until his head tilts a slight bit, eyes growing predatory as the corners of his lips tilt upwards. It resembles a small smile, yes, but it's not meant to be one. No, the first thing you have to think about is a wolf snarling at you, ready to put his packmate into their place for acting out.

It makes your spine tingle.

"Hm, maybe, but we can be classy about it, no?" He asks, and you scoff, trying to move your legs away from him, as he scans you.

At this point, he can see clearly that you're testing him.

So he gets up promptly, moving you around so you're standing in front of him. His inked hand finds your hair, gripping without mercy as he pulls your head back, your gaze now forced to stay on his as he calmly speaks. "You think I'm not into you like that- and you're as wrong as you could ever get." He says, biting his tongue as to not let a petname slip. He'd love to use them, but he knows that it's not yet time. That would be foul play, in a way; he doesn't want to seduce you.

He wants to make you understand.

"Trust me when I say I'd love to just throw you over my legs to spank that attitude out of you right now." He explains, and you whine- not in pain, but simply as a reaction to his confession. "But you don't know what you're getting yourself into." He continues, and pulls a bit to interrupt your next words. You know that you can get free any second you want to- but for some reason, there's no urge to do so. "You think of this as some game to play, you think of yourself as someone who can take all of it at once, but you don't even get the simplest and most important things about this entire thing." You swallow, as you stay still, finally giving up your fight as he relaxes the grip he still has on you. "Even now, it's not me controlling this situation. Its you." He says, letting go of you as his hands rest on your cheeks, eyes searching for any clues of discomfort. Only when he finds none, does he continue. "I will only ever have as much control over you as you're willing to give to me." He smiles again, this time, warm and comforting. "If you're really willing to do this, we will do this right. You'll have to trust me first, and I'll have to get to know you fully first, before anything else happens. Understood?" He asks.

And you nod.

"Do you know what you just agreed to?" He chuckles, and, shyly, you shake your head.

"See?" He grins, breaking skincontact with you. "You're not ready yet."

His brows furrow when he sees you sitting on the counter, Taehyung talking to you. "What're you doing here?" He asks, and you pout, as Taehyung moves away, not wanting to get involved into anything this time. "Stop that face. We talked about this last week, why're you here now?" He asks, and you tilt your head innocently.

"Maybe I'm here for Yoongi?" You say, and his eyes grow darker for a second, before he composes himself.

"Good try, but he's still off work." He states, and you deflate a bit.

"I just.. wanted to see, I guess." You say, and he smiles a bit impishly.

"Oh? I mean, I have a scene in twenty minutes.." He asks, and internally, you cringe. No, you don't want to see him screw or even touch another woman in the ways you secretly want him to touch you instead. No, you're technically here to maybe talk him into show you at least a little bit. But it doesn't seem like he'll cave in anytime soon, so you sigh out.

"Okay, okay, I'll see you around, I guess." You say, hopping down from the counter before you take a step towards the exit.

"Ah well, I'll drive you home then." He states, and you grow confused as he leans against the counter. "Seeing as my scheduled appointment wants to leave, I have time off." He states, and you skin tingles. "Come on now, before I change my mind." He states, as he walks you outside again, leading you towards his car.

"I didn't mean to turn up so.. I don't know. Sorry." You said, and he gets into the drivers seat, shaking his head.

"I can understand you, trust me." He says, as he starts the engine and drives off. "If you're okay with it, I'd like to get something from my apartment, and then drive to yours." He says, and you tilt your head.

"Why not to the studio, or your place?" You ask, and he nods.

"While those are places I feel comfortable, they're unfamiliar to you. It's best if we start in a place that's comforting and gives you a sense of security." He states, and you nod.

Jungkook, in your eyes, never really seemed as mature as he's acting in those moments. It's as if he switches every time you two change topics; any time this particular one comes up, his mood changing into a serious one. Now, you're not stupid, you know the risks- and of course you had somewhat done your research online about the damages that could occur during all of this. And there's also the not too little chance it really isn't something for you after all- and in a way, that scares you. Because you want jungkook, but what if you don't want.. this?

Instead of voicing that out, you simply keep quiet as he gets out the car, and inside again after fetching what looks like an overnight bag. "You're staying over?" You ask, and he simply throws it on to the backseat.

"Maybe. We'll see." He says, and you don't question him as he drives. "Let's get something to eat. What're you craving?" He asks, as he keeps his attention on the road. He notices how you seem to think, already able to practically see the gears turning inside your head. "Don't think about what I could want. I asked what you want." He says, calmly, and so soft, that you simply let your words out.

"Tae usually get's me food.." You start, and Jungkook nods, as if understanding. You watch him smile a little.

"Let's get some junk food and eat it in the car." He simply states, and you nod, happy that he seemingly really did get what you were trying to say. For you, things like these were almost like rituals- like you and tae getting random icecream just to hurry home every time to not have it melt.

Maybe this would become a memory only for you and Jungkook.

"You're nervous." Jungkook says, speaking out what's obvious. You don't know what he'll do, you're confused whats in his bag- you're nervous, just like he said. "Why is that?" He asks, casually sitting on your bed with you. He had earlier told you not to panic-clean it; he was not there to be impressed. He was simply a visitor for now, nothing more, nothing less. You shrugged. There were a lot of reasons you were nervous. "If you want this to work, I need to have proper communication with you. Guessing will get me nowhere." He says, but his voice is not upset. He's simply informing you.

"I.. don't know what you'll do?" You say, and He smiles, sitting more comfortably, as he shows you his open hands.

"I'm not gonna do anything for the moment." He tells you, and you shrug.

"But wasn't that the plan?" You ask him.

"What would you want me to do then?" He asks instead, not answering your question. He's testing you, he want's to know if you really are aware of everything. He's also not only asking you about what you want him to do to you- but with you, as well. He was unsure if you wanted to romantically involve yourself with him, or simply explore something new at his side.

He's afraid he'd be okay with either, just because its you.

"Are you going to tie me up?" You ask, and Jungkook grins, before he laughs. You're growing shy, unsure, and he instantly makes sure you know he's simply laughing about what you said, not about you. His hand holds yours- and it's weirdly reassuring.

"No, although I can imagine you looking very pretty in that position." He says. "No, come here." He says, lays down on the bed, and you stay where you are, with reasonable distance between you two. "I want you to come as close to me as you feel comfortable. Don't force it- take your time. I'm not expecting anything, please remember that." He tells you calmly, not looking at you to give you mental distance from him as well. His eyes are actually closed, his body relaxed.

You don't move for a moment. You want to test how long he can really play this patient role- but after around five or ten minutes, he's still not moving. He's not even saying anything, and you're unsure if he's asleep or not.

There's only one way to find out.

You carefully lay down a little away from him, on your side, simply looking at him. It's weird to see him like that; you've always imagined him to be a very dominant and demanding person, from what you've heard and seen of him. But Jungkook doesn't feel like any of the guys you've been with; he also doesn't feel like Taehyung, or Yoongi, or Hoseok.. Jungkook, weirdly enough, feels comfortable. He's relaxed, and laid back, and still has that slight glint of power over you.

You move closer, your curiosity getting the best of you as scenes and pictures of him holding you fill your head. Is he even a cuddler? You can't imagine him being all soft and sweet for gestures like that, but then again, you didn't really think you'd ever be in a situation like this either. Maybe you were judging a book by its cover.

He smells nice- that's one of the first things you notice once you get closer. One of his arms is stretched out to the side- his tattooes visible, but partially hidden by his sweater sleeve. You want to look at them, so you test the waters- by touching his arm, just a small poke with your finger. You can see the corners of his lips twitch; he's definitely awake. You move his arm a little, inside facing you as you get a detailed look at his artworks. They're detailed, they fit him, the dark Ink a stark contrast to his skin.

His sweater seems soft.

You slowly lay down again, your head resting on his biceps as you simply lay for a moment.

This is nice.

You feel more and more bold with every minute that passes, not even minding the way he sometimes moves around. You're growing at ease, so much so, that you simply throw all hesitation out of the window, and cuddle up to him. one of your hands is on his chest, while your head rests ontop of the inside of his shoulder.

This is really nice.

"Are you falling asleep?" He asks, voice not loud at all, as his arm moves, palm resting on your forearm as he holds you. You don't mind it- you feel relaxed enough to really actually do fall asleep- so you nod. "That's good." He tells you.

"But didn't you bring stuff to try?" you ask, and Jungkook nods.

"We got time. A small nap is always a good idea." He tells you, and you simply nod- making him smile.

He's glad.

Because by falling asleep on him like that, you don't even know how much you've complimented him at all. You're relaxed enough around him, comfortable enough to let him close to you in a vulnerable state such as sleep. It makes him wonder how far you'd let him go- would you let anyone get so close so quickly? A sudden rush of protectiveness curses through his body, fills him up, as he swears he can't let you go now. No, what if someone else gets you like this? What if someone takes advantage of your open mind like that? He doesn't even want to imagine.

Jungkook really has it bad.

You slowly wake up to a bit of weight on your face. "jungkook what're you doing?" you giggle, and he chuckles as well as he takes the hand away from over your eyes. He looks well rested, with his eyes still not fully open.

"Nothing." He says. "Just teasing." He says, but of course, nothing he does is just random teasing. Everything he does is calculated- it's to test you, to study you, to make sure he gets to know you. "Are you hungry?" He asks instead.

"Not for food."

He has to let that process for a moment, until he laughs. He's really got it with you, he thinks, as he suddenly moves, eyes dark, while he's now ontop of you, his hands holding your wrists. Expecting you to look surprised, he finds none of that however. It intrigues him, the way you don't seem to be nervous or fearful at all. It makes him wonder what you'd really do to him if he was to advance in ways he wanted to. "Careful, sweetheart." He says, and your eyes sparkle with a silent challenge.

"Or what?"

His grip gets a bit tighter at that, eyes a bit darker. "Someone's eager." He says lowly. "Don't you think you're biting off more than you can chew right now?" He asks, before he clicks his tongue, slowly falling into his own headspace. He knows however not to let himself slip. "Give me a random word." He asks, demands, and you say whatever finds your mind in that moment.

"Bunny." You say.

He raises his eyebrow for a second, but doesn't question it. "I want you to say that, loud and clear, as soon as you feel uncomfortable." He lectures you seriously. "It doesn't matter what it is. Physically, or mentally, or if you simply don't want me to continue because. I need you to tell me that you will say it." His gaze is intense, and you nod. "I promise you; I'll never get mad, or upset, or angry, or disappointed with you. My ego isn't worth your safety." He humms out at the end, and your eyes soften.

He notices it instantly, and it affects him more than he'd like to admit.

"I promise I'll say it if I need to." You tell him, and he grows comfortable again.

"Can I touch you?" He asks, softly, and you nod, before verbally answering him with a yes. "Remember; I'll only ever have as much power and control over you as you will give me." He mumbles, head now dipped down to ghost his lips over the skin of your neck. "But once you give it to me-" He says, his knee situating itself in between your legs to spread them in a silent command. "-I won't give it back." He growls, before he bites down, releasing the skin after hearing your delicate mewl, kissing the spot as if to apologize.

He's not sorry.

"Let me ask you.." He says, feeling you rut against his leg that's pressed against your center. "what do you really want from me?" He asks, and you open your eyes, movements slowly coming to a halt as you notice the way he looks at you.

He almost looks uncertain.

"I.." You want him. You know that- you want all of his bad habits and weird quirks. You want to get to know him and everything that comes with it. Hell, he was the main reason you even got into the entire scene in the first place. "You." You say, deciding its best to practice honesty.

"Me?" He asks, genuinely a little confused.

You nod. "Yeah. You." You say. It's a little weird, the whole situation, but you don't mind it. Your hands slowly slip out of his grasp, before they instead intertwine their fingers with his. He feels weirdly caught off guard by the gesture- his past encounters and relationships never having included things like these. So much so, that Jungkook genuinely believed those things to be simple movie-gestures. Overdone, and not realistic. "Like uhm.. if you want to. If you just want to, you know, I.. guess I'd be okay with that too-" You say, looking away, as Jungkook answers.

"I want you too." He answers, eyes searching yours for any glimmer of dishonesty. But he doesn't find it- there is none. There's just you. "I really want you too." He murmurs out, getting closer, before he lets himself loose, his lips finding yours.

He's never been a fan of kissing, but he can very much already imagine kissing you for hours.

Its not just you letting go in that moment, its him too.

Because unbeknownst to you, he's not just opening you a door to his world of unspoken fantasies-

He's also opening his heart as well.

Your first time together is slow and comfortable.

It happens just a day after you had both decided to pursue an actual relationship with one another. He's gentle, careful, but not hesitant. He's exploring.

Inside of his head, he notes down every noise and every twitch of muscle. You sigh as he eats you out, the small ponytail of his unable to hold onto all of his hair as his eyes are partially hidden behind the blonde strands. He's watching you, his fingers having already stretched you out, but then he sits up. You whine, with him having stolen your release for a second time. "Let's play a little, yeah?" He says with an amused yet calm tone. You're already unable to do much about your position; your wrists bound to your bed over your head, carefully tied knots comfortable against your skin, as long as you don't pull. "Legs open." He calls out as you try and close them, and you whine again; testing his patience as you still go ahead and disobey his command. He watches, moves forward, before he pulls them apart again. "You want to cum, no?" He asks, and you nod, frustratedly so. "I wonder what made you think you've earned that reward from me." He tells you, eyes scanning your form as you pull on your restraints a little. He's not fully into his own headspace yet- he's still very much on high alert to notice any signs of discomfort coming from you.

He has to learn just as much as you do.

"You're lucky you're so sweet." He says, before he crawls closer again, his hand on your center, as he enters you with two fingers. Its not enough, but then his thumb draws circles on your clit- and you're approaching, quickly. "Hm? Won't you cum?" And then you say it.

"Can I?"

It's so desperate, so needy, so submissive, that it sends a chill down his spine. He moves closer, kisses your neck, as he can't help but let the rush of it get to him. He is, after all, just as desperate for release. No matter if its his, or yours.

"Such a good girl, of course you can." He tells you. "What a sweet one, such good manners.." He teases playfully, and you tug at your restraints as you come undone under his hands. He unties your wrists and you're holding onto him as soon as you're free, and he lets you hold onto him in your post orgasmic bliss.

Its after a moment that you realize it.

"Wait-" You say, sitting up to look at him. "You- I mean, you didn't get to-" You start, but Jungkook waves it off.

"Its fine, really." He tells you, and you know he's serious. "I'll just wait until it goes down, or take care of it in your bathroom if thats okay with you." He says, patting the side next to him to lay down on. "Come here." He asks, and you comply, before you speak again.

"You.." You start, not looking at him. "Could just take care of it here." You say. "Or I could.." you start, and he looks at you.

"Do you want that, or do you only feel like you have to?" He asks, and you shrug. You take some time, before you answer.

You've seen most of Jungkook until now. From his strong arms, his back, his inked skin, to his thighs and legs. You have seen all- but that. And you've never really considered giving anything back in that way to anyone because of one single embarrassing moment- but with Jungkook, for some reason, you wanted to try.

"I want to." You say, and he nods. "But I don't know how.." You say, and he smiles reassuringly.

"I'll guide you." He tells you, before he scans your face. He's never really felt that desired- at least not in the way he does in that moment with you. "You can take it out for starters." He says, and you nod, before you hesitate a little.

Jungkook is nice, when it comes to that. He's patient, always lets you do the pacing for now, until you trust him enough. This is only the start, after all. You stay cuddled up to his side, but your hand ventures towards his sweats, where you can see his prominent erection still waiting. Slowly, you push the fabric down, both his sweats and boxers underneath- his hips lifting a bit to make it easier for you, until he's freed from his clothes.

You've never really thought much about looks when it came to that department, but Jungkook was, in each and every way, highly attractive. Now you knew, that there was literally nothing about him you didn't desire.

Your first touches are a little hesitant, testing the waters, and Jungkook tries not to react too much to it to give you time. Its when you start to move your hand however, that he closes his eyes, head now completely resting on the pillows beneath as he just decides to enjoy what you might give him. His hips twitch upwards a little after you'd run your thumb over the head, precum glistening while your hand uses it as lubricant to move more smoothly.

He sighs out.

And you grow bold at that, moving to sit up and escape out of his embrace, before you dip down to feed your curiosity. As your tongue touches his skin, his muscles contract, the action not expected since he didn't look what you were doing. You've been told once before that you're not.. the best at this- but Jungkook made you want to try. If you would've looked, you would've spotted the intense stare that Jungkook had been sending your way; mesmerized by the way you tucked your hair behind your ear oh so sweetly, before you let a drop of saliva escape from between your lips, taking him in soon after it had dropped onto his awaiting length.

You really were something else.

He'd gotten head time and time before, and it was never something he didn't like- but he'd also rarely ever cared that much emotionally about the person giving it to him. It's weird, how an emotional connection can make you so much more sensitive to things- such as in that moment, as your tongue moved over his skin while inside your warm mouth, lips heavenly on his cock.

He couldn't imagine what it would be like to be inside you.

There's nothing he could teach you, nothing he could tell you to do, as you moved, sucked and licked. He was breathing heavily already, his hand finding yours as you hold onto it. He sits up, can't help it, has to somehow touch you while you're not letting go of your task. His palm escapes your hand, rests on your head instead, runs through your hair before it grips a little. You moan, vibrations making him throw his head back as he groans out, feeling his end coming closer. "If you don't want to swallow, let go." He grits out, but you suck harder instead, and its when your hand finds his balls that he lets himself fall back onto the mattress beneath, shooting his load into your mouth as you swallow it down.

He's on cloud nine.

You're thoughtful enough to pull his underwear and pants back up, laying on your stomach next to him, waiting, watching, with impish eyes. He looks so radiant, so relaxed, so at ease. It fills you with a weird sense of pride; since in a way, its your doing. "Why did you tell me you don't know how to do that." He comments, rather than asks, slowly calming his breathing back down. His eyes open, hand pushing some hair out of your face. "Thank you. That was amazing." He says, and you shrug.

"Thanks for the compliment." You say, looking at him.

"I have a request." He says, and you nod. "Not like that." He teases, making you blush. "No, but seriously." Jungkook knows that you've been with other people before. It scares him to know that some of your experiences might not have been good- he knows some absolute horror stories Taehyung had told him. "I want you to take all that you've experienced with your former partners.. all those moments, emotions, bad memories, all of it." He tells you, hand now resting on your cheek- a gesture in which you lean into. "And throw them away. Forget them." He tells you.

"This is a new start, for both of us."

"How many clients have you been with?" You ask, casually sitting on the kitchen counter as Jungkook washes the dishes. Its your first night in his apartment, and you're more comfortable than you thought you'd be.

"None." He tells you, and you're ready to snort out a laugh, but he doesn't look at all like he's joking. Seeing your confusion, he continues while scrubbing a plate. "None of us actually have sex with our clients. Some only come to talk, really- others come to let go." He explains, and you nod. "I've never touched, nor been with someone intimately during a scene." He tells you.

"So you had scenes with your partners then?" You ask, and he shrugs.

"In the beginning, yeah." He admits, shrugging. "But I eventually gave up on it. It's not something a lot of people find very appealing. It all looks great in theory, but when practiced, most find its not for them." Draining the sink, he dries his hands on the dish towel, before putting it in its proper place.

"Could you.. imagine a relationship without it?" You ask, and he sighs, shaking his head.

"Not really." He looks at you after a moment. "Its who I am, and its how I love. I can't change that." He tells you, and you nod. Its understandable really, and you like that he has clear lines he likes to follow. It's weirdly comforting to know that he has his life so under control- its all you've ever wanted really.

It's something Jungkook might be able to give you.

It was weird, the feeling of the rope against your skin. He’d been right about it earlier; it wasn’t rough or itchy at all. But maybe that was just because it was him doing it. Maybe he was simply fogging up your senses.

It would make sense.

“Okay?” He humms out, voice gentle and calm while he stops his hands for a moment, palm on your shoulder where it warms up your skin. You’re unsure what okay really means- okay like, he’s finished? Or is he asking if you’re okay? Or is he asking for permission? “Speak to me- don’t just think.” He says, eyes watching you in such a manner that made your slightly trembling body calm down.

“I’m not sure what- what you mean by, okay.” You say, and he smiles, eyes roaming over your body for a moment, but surprisingly not in a way that would make you feel exposed. You’re almost naked, after all- only your most private parts hidden from his sight. You can see the very evident tent in his pants; but he doesn’t seem like he’s frustrated or fazed about it.

“Good Job telling me.” He says first and foremost, and you start to feel warm inside. “I was asking if you were okay. Do you remember your colors?” He asks, and you nod, before verbally answering him with a ‘yes’. He nods again, a hand running over your head, fingers running through your hair affectionately. “Good. I’ll finish the last knots now- remember you can stop at any time. Don’t hesitate.” He says, and you nod.

He grabs the rope again; the tiny fact that he’d chosen one in your favorite color making you feel.. well, you didn’t know. You could feel your nose sting, before it shot into your eyes, making them water; something that Jungkook immediately noticed. “Color?” He asks, and you shake your head.

“Green, Green, I’m okay-“ you say, but you can’t stop the tears. He’s quick to sit down in front of you after tying the last knot- and it’s the first time you quietly look at them. They’re so delicate, so well done, but there’s no time to dwell on it as he lifts you chin gently.

“Talk to me.” He says, hands on your shoulders to give you some sense of stability. You’re safe, you don’t feel bad, but just..

“I don’t know. There’s so much-“ you begin, and he softly smiles, as if you’re not currently completely bound with no chance of proper movement. You take a deep breath, holding it before you release again, silently following the advices he’d given you prior. “Why do I feel so.. comfortable? I feel safe even though I’m in such a dangerous situation- I’m.. this is weird isn’t it, I should be.. I don’t know. Why’re you not doing anything? Wasn’t this supposed to be like, a sex session or something I don’t get it-“ you babble, and he lets you, before he speaks.

“You still don’t quite get it, do you?” He asks, and your glistening eyes stare up at him. “I don’t need something as simple as sex to feel satisfied.” He explains, and you nod, even though you don't quite understand. "I feel euphoric right now, even though you probably won't quite believe me." He says, his smile evident as his fingers trace the knots on your skin. It's there that you see it; the glimmer in his eyes, something you've never seen before with someone else. "The fact that you let me do this, it's all I need." He humms out. He looks at you, a silent question, and you take a deep breath.

You don't quite know what you're doing. Its weird- but seeing him like that makes you feel weightless. It happens slowly, you don't quite grasp what it is, but the feeling is nice. It's like letting go- like standing on the highest platform of the universe and just jumping down. And when you open your eyes, all you see is him.

He can't take his eyes off of you.

He's seen it often enough to spot it, knows what it looks like, but it still holds such a deep meaning to him to see you fall into your subspace for the very first time. You're so beautiful like that, so ethereal and enchanting as you lean forward to get closer to him. He's careful you dont accidentally hurt yourself with the big scissors on the bed close by- emergency equipment to release you asap if needed.

He knows escape is the furthest thing on your mind right now.

Able to do anything he'd want with you, he's not like that however. He's responsible enough to let you float for a moment, before he speaks to you again. "Baby?" He asks, and you nod, nuzzling his shoulder as he holds you close. "You're doing so good. Can you do something for me baby?" He questions again, and you nod, not parting from him however before he talks again. "Can you sit straight for a moment? Just like that, good girl." He praises as you instantly follow his command. "I got you, okay? I got you, you're safe." He repeats, as he slowly unties your body. It's careful reassuring and slow movements that make it possible to untie you- too quickly could make you drop; a state of sudden shift in mental state, that could send you straight into distress. Jungkook doesn't ever want to be the cause of that for you.

You're underneath him, and he's careful, as he undresses after placing the scissors onto the bedside table where it cant lead to any accidents. He also reaches inside the table, pulling out a condom from a box safely stored, before he gets himself ready.

Not even for a second is his attention not on you however.

"Hands up baby." He commands, and you do as he wants, already squirming as he advances towards you, fingers stretching you out as you grow huffy at the prospect of being edged again. He's quick to catch on though. "Hm, I'm not gonna be mean baby." He tells your fuzzy mind. "But I gotta get you ready, no?" Fingers steadily helping you relax, he waits until he deems you ready.

You struggle to keep your hands up as he enters you, but your mind is adamant on keeping his command. He groans out, kisses your neck, as he slowly begins to move lazily. It's enough for pleasure- but not enough to make you cum. "Good fucking girl. Look at you. My baby." He chants, and something inside you stirs at the last words.

His Baby.

You're his.

He wants you.

It makes you whine as he chuckles, nipping at your skin. "You can touch me baby, good job." He says, and your hands are instantly around his neck. You're mumbling something, but its not words. It's not coming out the way you think it does, and Jungkook doesn't mind, doesn't care. Its another one of those things fueling him up, urging him on.

You're his perfect puzzle piece.

He lets go.

"Turn around princess." He says breathless, and you follow his instructions eagerly. His hand rests on the back of your neck for a moment, leaves its place for a second to move your hair away from your face, before he gently pushes down. He's inside in a heartbeat, this time thrusting with more strength.

Something overcomes him that hasn't happened before.

Usually, this position is what he loves most- and yet, it's not what he wants. He wants you, he wants you close, he cant touch you enough. His arms snake around your torso, just underneath the bottom of your breasts, as he pulls you towards him. Your back arches so prettily, and he gasps out, breathing heavy as he continues his attack on your neck. "You're mine." He growls out, can't keep it inside anymore, his grip on you tightening. "Mine." His thrusts stutter, his hand reaches for your center, desperate fingers helping you find your release. It coats your thighs, stains the bed, and he pushes himself as deep as he can once he finishes himself.

He's breathing heavily, he's out of his mind, running on autopilot as his hands still hold you. He pulls out after a moment, a whine from you getting reassured by his own voice, before he leaves the bed, getting a warm damp washcloth ready for you. He's careful, gentle, seems to caress your skin more than clean it, places kisses every now and then and sends praises your way.

"How do you feel?" He asks, voice low and caring as he continues his aftercare.

"Like you love me a lot." You sleepily say, eyes still foggy, and he smiles.

"Good." He tells you, reaching out to kiss your lips, still high on his own afterglow. "That's how you're always supposed to feel like."

"I've quit." He tells you one night on the couch, as you sit close to him. You'd asked him about his sidejob at Yoongi's- and this was his answer. Instantly, you sit up straight, fearing that he might've felt obligated because of you. "Before you start, yes, it was because of you." He says, and you already have the whine in your throat- but it doesn't make it out, as his fingers lazily trace your collarbone peaking out from his shirt you're wearing. "But it was also my decision. I just didn't enjoy it anymore- and you're more I could ever want really." He says, shrugging as you stare at him.

It was still new to you.

Although you knew that he was probably more than just a wild loverboy collecting partners and gaming all day, you never would've thought of him like this. He's a kid at heart still, teasing and playfighting every now and then- but he's mostly a strong shoulder to lean on for you. He really is the security and safety you'd always searched for. "What're you thinking about?" He asks, pulling you closer as he continues watching the TV show.

"You." You say, and he chuckles.

"Cute." He answers. He looks at you for a moment, TV long forgotten, before you crawl over his lap, shirt rising enough to give him free view of your thighs and panties. You've skipped the pants tonight- a habit of yours he enjoys a lot. His palms instantly find the soft skin, running along the outside of your thighs before they find your behind, squeezing, before he slaps it playfully. He grins as you squeal, admiring the way the very tips of your ears turn red. "You're really precious, you know that?" He tells you, and you shrug. "You are." He confirms, and you smile shyly.

"May I kiss you?" You ask, and he smiles warmly.

"We're not in a scene baby, do as you wish." He tells you, and you nod, leaning forward to capture his lips with yours. Its a feeling you can't quite get enough of, and it seems like he enjoys it equally as much. His inked hands find their way underneath your shirt, running over your back and spine as you shudder. He doesn't find what he seeks, your underwear long gone and left in the bedroom, and he loves it, instantly moves to your chest where he finds the soft flesh, his thumb running over one of your nipples teasingly. You're arching your back already, moving around as if you can't sit still. "My baby." He mumbles out, "If you can be so kind and get me a condom, you can ride me if you want to." He tells you, and you nod.

By now you easily know your way around his apartment.

So its no wonder you quickly return from your now shared bedroom, condom in hand as you approach him again, settling onto his lap. You're not shy with him nor his body anymore, eagerly taking the condom out of the package for him to roll it down onto his length. "You good?" He asks, and you nod, pulling your panties aside as you slowly sink down on him.

He lets his head rest back on the couch, and you lean into him, for a change returning the favor of kissing his neck. He's grinning, throughoutly enjoying things, and you love watching him. It's a visual reminder to yourself that this is your doing. You're making him feel that way, and no one else. It makes you confident, and it makes you feel cherished in ways you haven't felt before.

Once you start to move, Jungkooks hands help you along. Its slow and lazy, not at all hurried. There's no real goal; you probably wouldn't even mind not cumming at all. This was just being close- a way of feeling connected in the most intimate of ways. Connected like only lovers could be.

You love him.

And it slips out as a tiny 'I love you' in between your sighs and gasps, and he hears it so clearly, he can't help himself but speed up the pace.

"I love you too." He chants out, kissing the side of your head as you rest against his chest, head on his shoulder. "I love you so much." He says, almost inaudible, his arms holding you as close as he can.

Jeon Jungkook doesn't need sex to feel satisfied.

But he will most certainly need you for now and forever.

And he's totally fine with that.

(c)Bonny-Kookoo. You know the drill. I know where you live. I don't. But still. Be scared. Boo.

[plush-rabbit]

Doting Over Atsuhiro Sako

Request: speaking of the darling [Mr. Compress] , would you mind doing for him the same 'taking care of' hcs like you did for shigaraki a while ago? so i'd just like to draw a nice bath for him and maybe massage some conditioner into his curls, make them extra soft and fluffy just the way we like them <3 oooh and maybe add one of those glitter bath bombs, have you ever tried one? makes it look like you're bathing in a magical potion, 100% would recommend ꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖✧*。and he can repay the kindness by telling me a nice bedtime story in his wonderful voice, i feel like Atsuhiro would make such a good story teller

A/N: I wanna take care of him, like please, let me wash their hair and kiss their face (this applies to everyone in the league)

-

While the League is capable of living on their own under strenuous circumstances, and as such, they’re quick to adapt. However, despite how they may seem more than capable enough, Atsuhiro still frets over them. He may not be the eldest, but he does find it in himself to look out for the others. In all the time that he’s spent around them, he’s grown fond of them, considering them family and wanting to make sure that their goals are reached. The life that he lives isn’t easy, there’s bloodshed and secrecy, but it’s the life he chose and he wouldn’t trade it for any other.

The League has finally finished transitioning into the Paranormal Liberation Front, every wish and whims of theirs met. However, with every good thing that there is, there are also setbacks. It’s been a gruelling week where he’s had to learn how to properly lead a task force. No matter what, it’s the will of his allies and he is happy to follow them, happy to make the dreams of his and his allies come into fruition. The entire week he’s been drained, his eyes holding heavy bags under his eyes and his smile much more weary than usual. He lays beside you, resting his arm across your chest. It’s heavy, dead weight on you, as he asks you to wake him up early the next day, promptly closing his eyes and falling asleep.

You can tell that the weight of responsibilities and the amount of people that have merged within the two organizations. He’s overstimulated by all the new tasks and people. While he may be a showman, he wants the attention, he wants the admirers but being stuck around people, he isn’t entirely fond of that. Especially not when he was thrown into the situation after being beaten black and blue by the same people who now respect him. You know that he needs rest, and who better to provide it than you. You don’t want anything extravagant for him, not when he’s obviously tired and just wants to lie in bed. You want a day to take care of him properly, but for now, a night with him is the best bet you’ll get.

A bit stubborn, he refuses to admit that he’s tired. He has things to do and the sooner he finishes it, the sooner everything can go back to normal. But even his stubbornness has its limits. When you come to him, grabbing his hands and sliding them upwards to his biceps, he leans into your touch, with a small smile gracing his lips and a small hum in the back of his throat. It takes a bit of convincing to have him put off his duties for the evening, but when you cup his face and rub your hand from his cheek to cup the back of his head, he’s more than willing to listen to whatever you have to say as long as it means that you don’t stray away from him. He lowers himself, his arms wrapped loosely around your waist, pulling you close to him and resting his head on your shoulder. You can feel his breath start to deepen, soft puffs of warm air that tickle your neck and when you call his name, he replies with a lazy hum. He’ll pull himself with a groan, wanting nothing more than to just rest with you.

He listens to the shower run, the door muffling the noise and he can hear you close the cupboards inside. When you step out, a thin veil of steam follows, and his body cries out to step into the shower. He looks towards you, his head jerking over and you nod. It’s nothing more than a proper shower and you stand carefully away from him, your arms outstretched and covered in iridescent soap bubbles. While he’s a bit disappointed at you not having joined him properly in the shower, he won’t lie about how nice it feels for your hands to scratch his scalp. It’s a feeling he soon won’t forget- the way that your hands feel, the way that you tell him to close his eyes and how you’re so careful to not let soap run past his brows. He adores the weight of your hands, how your fingers slip between his hair and untangle him, the feeling of having you to himself for a moment where the warm water runs down his back and soothes his tense body.

A dark robe covers his body, catching at the water that slips down his body while his hair drips onto the mat as he watches you fill the tub. A smile plays on his lips, his eyes catching a glance of himself in the mirror that slowly defogs, and despite the bags still being present, they seem less heavy, the dark blue that contrasted against his skin is now pale; a warm glow returning to him, his cheeks dusted with hints of a light red. When he returns his attention, you gesture for him to get into the tub. His lips press against your nose in a thankful kiss, letting his lips that are still wet, leave their mark against you. The water rises with his weight, his head leaned against a cushion and eyes drifting to look up at you. The water soon turns into a swirling mix of blue and pink, thin, white strips that break apart the colors and touch his skin. He gives out a silent breath of a laugh, his hand reaching from under the water to cup it in his hands. The colorful water drips out of his palm, bubbles form and pop in seconds and when he turns around, the door closes behind you.

Out of the water, he feels much lighter, his hand tracing under an eye, a frown at his lips. With a clearer mind than before, he takes notice of his appearance. It’s no wonder that you worried for him. He runs a hand through his hair, grimacing as cold water drips onto his nose. He exits the bathroom, his eyes scanning the room until they fall on you. He clears his throat and you hurry over to him, handing his clothes and making a teasing comment about how he had spent so long, that you were starting to get worried. He can only nudge you with his elbow, holding the clothes tight to his body. He sits on the bed, a towel draped over his shoulders and his back hunched as you massage oil into his hair. You scrunch at his hair, and he wishes that you’ll finish faster, only so he could lie beside you. He can feel his fatigue starting to catch up to him,

Once finished, he lies on the bed, the sleeve of his residual limb pushed until it scrunches up at his shoulder. His breath hitches in his throat, his eyes closed tightly until colors and inorganic shapes start to take form behind his eyelids. The compression bandage is snug around him, your hands kneading into his skin. He lets out a shaky breath, his chest tingling and heart beating, blood rushing to his ears as you coo softly. His body is on pins and needles as your hand flutters away from his limb, coming to rest on his back and press deep in between his shoulder blades. He hisses out, muttering a word of reassurance when you ask if he’s fine. His muscles are tense, his body and mind on high alert that you’re beside him, your hands busy as they flutter around him, pressing and massaging at every sore spot that you can find.

Carefully, he shifts, rolling onto his stomach and grinning at you, his smile crooked and arm bent over his eyes. When you creep beside him, he peeks at you through his shaded vision. Your presence is enough for him to decide that it’s an invitation to rest between your legs, his head on your chest and his arm gripping onto the side of your shirt. The silence is sweet, and the only thing to break it is the sound of your beating heart, echoing in his ears like a lullaby that won’t end. He presses himself deeper into you, nuzzling until he can’t go any deeper. Your hand ghosts down his neck, your fingertips leaving his body pricking with just your touch, even through the thin layer of clothes where you end up resting your hand.

At the end of the night, when the moon is high in the skin, a pearly light that shines upon everyone and shines between the gap in the curtains, he switches positions with a groan. He appreciates you letting him rest on you, but for now, it’s time to return the favor when you protest and tell him it wasn’t a favor but more a gift. It doesn’t make a difference to him, he only shakes it off and tells you to come close to him. Sleep has already begun to claim him, his eyes blinking rapidly until you lay beside him, his arm curling around you and chin grazing over the top of your head. Atsuhiro’s words are quiet, broken between yawns, and even so, they’re still captivating. You cling to every word, your hand sliding to rest on his chest and like how your heart echoed into his ear, his beats against your palm. He talks quietly, and soon, his words fall into a whisper that you are unable to hear. You pull away from him, your eyes falling onto the sleeping man whose hand slides down your back and claws at the covers, patting aimlessly until he finds your hand. The corner of his lips twitch into a fleeting smile. You grab the blanket and cover the both of you and he seems to sink deeper into the bed, his legs stretching out until they bump into yours.

[ghirahimbo]

"2. Suddenly pulling them in for a dance." - Ghiralink, perhaps? (Sorry incase that's not really your thing anymore! Feel free to pick another ship <3)

Yeah… yeah, that’s still my thing T-T lol, thanks for the prompt! This one was fun 😊

Post-canon, vague master/sword AU, ghiralink-ish

—

The spirit maiden danced with a grace befitting her divine origins, little though Ghirahim liked to admit it. Moving so lightly through the lively steps that her feet might have been floating, he could almost believe that she still bore Hylia's feathered wings on her back, tucked somewhere outside of physical sight. Link danced like a log in comparison—though on second appraisal, Ghirahim had to give him more credit than that. The boy wasn't stomping on Zelda’s toes, after all, unlike Fledge dancing nearby with poor Karane. Link's style consisted of accuracy without artistry, though with enough enthusiasm to almost make up for it. How odd that all his light-footedness seemed reserved for the more violent dance of swords, where he moved nimbly enough to keep even Ghirahim on his toes… a nod to his true calling, perhaps?

Privately savoring the notion, Ghirahim lounged against the wall of a newly erected building, only half noticing the wary looks he received as he watched the festivities unfold. These Skyloftians-turned-surface dwellers still feared him, despite the months he had served already as their hero's sword—a primal fear, perhaps, unless that fool Groose had secretly run off at the mouth. Link and Zelda had agreed from the start that certain aspects of Ghirahim’s past were best kept hidden, his previous master and role in Zelda’s disappearance highest among them. He had certainly not done anything overtly threatening to the residents of this tiny, budding village—and yet, they feared him.

The whole situation fell well beneath his notice, though he’d caught Link frowning over it more than once. Link was frowning at him now, Ghirahim realized, directing it over Zelda’s shoulder as they turned in sync, and he met it with a scornful expression of his own. What had Link expected him to do here tonight? Mingle?

The music finally paused as the lively song wound to its end, prompting the dancing couples to bow and switch partners (in Karane’s case with remarkable alacrity). Link leaned in towards Zelda, whispering something in her ear before vanishing into the milling throng, and Ghirahim half raised an eyebrow. Likely he'd just gone for more food, though Link might have finally tired of this tedious celebration. Compared to the more demonic gatherings Ghirahim knew, this less raucous human affair contained a disappointing (if expected) lack of bloodshed—though of course, those had often erupted haphazardly in the throes of battles won. Not like this one, which commemorated nothing more than the laboriously slow growth of food and its eventual harvest.

Another song started up, slower than the last but no less cheerful. Fledge had moved on to his next victim, some girl in a bandana and horrifically flared pants whose name Ghirahim had never bothered to learn. Zelda had produced a harp, wandering to join the musicians with plucked out harmonies that flowed from her fingers with ease, and Link…

Ghirahim frowned when Link’s bobbing green hat still had not emerged among the dancers. The food tables remained conspicuously absent of green, as well. If Link thought he could escape on his own while leaving Ghirahim here waiting—

A hand grabbed his arm, pulling him from his perch by the wall, and if he hadn’t had that hand memorized from the hundreds of times it had gripped his hilt, Ghirahim might have expressed his surprise in regrettably drastic fashion. Instead he let it pull him through the crowd until they reached their apparent destination, and it slid down his arm to grasp his own blackened hand, while another reached up to rest lightly on his shoulder.

Ghirahim blinked. Link smiled blandly up at him.

"Care to dance?" he asked, a bit too late for etiquette's sake considering that the dance had already started. Link's cheeks shone pink from the exertion of tromping around with Zelda, and his messy hair, mercifully absent the hat that always covered it, felt deceitful in how easily it had disguised his presence. Sweat clung to the base of those dark blonde locks—the reason for the hat's removal?

Ghirahim's legs moved automatically through the simple steps as he considered his young master, who made a brave attempt at leading with that unfortunate portion of his usual grace.

"Presumptive of you," he murmured, just loud enough to be heard over the din of laughter and music. "Any particular motive for such impertinence?"

Link had the nerve to look confused.

"You like to dance," he said, as if that was answer enough. Perhaps it was. Link wore his cheerful naiveté like a cloak sometimes, and even Ghirahim couldn't always sort out how much of it was real, and how much artifice. "Someone had to ask you?"

The hint of a question?

A number of potential reactions ran through Ghirahim's mind, considered and discarded in quick succession. He could extract himself easily enough, leaving Link clutching nothing but vanishing diamonds. He could also stand stubbornly still, refuse to dance, and let Link discover just how easily he could drag around a sword that didn't want to move. He could reject Link quietly—dramatically—at knifepoint, even—but…

A quick glance around revealed their audience. Though most had the sense not to stare openly, nearly every couple surrounding them shared the same nervous, almost scandalized smile, as if they feared the consequence of making their amusement too obvious. The spirit maiden in particular watched him closely, keeping a pointed eye on him over her harp though her lips shared the same bland smile as Link.

There would be no consequence, of course—Ghirahim wouldn't risk this precarious arrangement with Link simply to save face in front of some humans—yet neither could he let anyone think him scared off by something as innocuous as an invitation to dance. The steps themselves were straightforward enough, easily gleaned through his brief time spent observing… and as Link had pointed out, he did enjoy it.

His lips curved into a grin.

"I accept your request," Ghirahim said, and the moment Link started to relax, added, "but I will not be led."

Link's eyes barely had the chance to widen before Ghirahim spun him around, reversing the position of their hands.

Backpedaling to match Ghirahim's smooth advance, Link's startled face swiveled between watching Ghirahim and his own two feet in a desperate attempt to avoid being trampled. Lack of practice in this secondary role made him even less sure of his steps than before, though Ghirahim managed to steer them without incident through the greater pattern of dancing couples, humming in amusement as Link fought with surprise against an unexpected dip backwards.

"Come now, Link, have I ever allowed you to wield me with so little poise?" he hissed, the tip of his tongue whipping out mockingly as he raised Link back up. "If you favor only my sword with your attempts at finesse, I will begin to be jealous of myself."

Face red now from more than mere exertion, Link opened his mouth as if to protest—and closed it again, his lips forming a thin line of determination. An abrupt change swept over him, as drastic as if a switch had been pressed, and his stance shifted along with his center of gravity. Back straight with just a hint of fluidity, eyes blazing with the same defiance that had caught Ghirahim’s interest from the very start, Link danced, the superior reflexes he showed in battle at last made manifest.

Ghirahim's own eyes glowed. So Link had finally remembered that he held a sword.

"You've been holding out on me," he whispered, uncertain if Link could hear him or not. Experimentally, he directed Link with a light hint of pressure through a gliding spin, and found him as responsive an opponent as ever. "I should punish you for that."

Except that Link had held out on the spirit maiden first, and only for Ghirahim revealed his true potential. There was a pattern to that, he decided, glancing once more at Zelda and relishing in her look of surprise. Her chosen hero could never have defeated Demise without trying himself again and again on Ghirahim's sword first, and he hoped at times that his necessity haunted her.

The music picked up in pace and volume, the steps coming quick and intense. Link said nothing—he never did in the midst of battle, as silent as stone and just as unyielding—but perspiration broke out in beads along his face, trailing down the edge of his jaw. His hair swept and stuck in strange patterns across his forehead, disheveled but not wholly unappealing. Link might still have lacked a certain flair to his movements, too direct and to the point for Ghirahim's taste… but style could be taught. Idly, Ghirahim considered other dances he might teach this man if he was amenable, of perhaps less wholesome origins—dances whose quick, subtle movements pushed the bounds of even his own abilities, requiring strength in muscles Link likely didn't know existed. What was a dance without challenge, after all… without something a little more physical?

For now they moved through this tamer dance of Hylia's people, both withdrawing and rejoining as the pattern of steps demanded. The outer world fell away as their attention narrowed in on small details—the clash of eyes and brush of skin—blue on black and flushed tan on cool, steely gray—

And the music ended in a moment of silence that rang out unexpectedly. Laughing chatter burst to life, as abrupt as it was unwelcome, and the spell between them broke. Panting, looking slightly dazed, Link gave Ghirahim a bow that he returned with almost his usual smoothness, convincing himself that he had not been nearly so affected.

"Satisfied?" he asked softly, with the hint of a smirk—and was taken aback by the positively sly look Link gave him in response.

“Well…”

Brushing his hands together and placing them on his hips, Link gave a show of looking around meaningfully, and only then did Ghirahim realize how the tenor of the voices surrounding them had changed. Those glances sent his way felt more curious now than wary, and the bubble of instinctive fear surrounding him had all but vanished—his presence made human in their eyes at last by his part in the harvest dance.

"It's a start," Link decided, wiping sweat from his brow and settling his pointed green hat at a jaunty angle on his head. "I’m done dancing for the night, but you keep going if you want. You looked like you were having fun.”

With a wink, he turned to leave, and Ghirahim couldn't help but admire his exit. Link really was as conniving as any demon he’d ever met at times, though to completely different ends.

A nervous cough caught his attention, and he glanced down to see Fledge looking up at him anxiously. From the flurry of motion around them, it was time to switch partners for the next dance.

“U-um,” he managed to squeak out. His face, torn between pale white and deep red, had settled on both in splotches. “Everyone else is, so do you… I mean, are we supposed t-to…?”

Ghirahim snapped, leaving Fledge gaping at vanishing diamonds, and as he left caught the edges of Link's laughter. Conniving indeed, he thought, though at least in that as in so much else they were equally matched.

[fieryhonesty]

“Story’s based on a request from a Nonnie and they are right! Our Xiao needs hugs and rest a bit.”

Words: 1910

Genre: fluff, f!reader

Xiao is always keeping things for him. He will never seek company to share his burdens. After all, there is no trouble which will last long enough, he says. However he can't deny there are moments when he is fed up. Be it the never ending war he fights or his own problems. Which are having roots back in history.

Sometimes there's too much to handle at once, yet he stands tall and faces it headon. Never argues or falters with decisions. As long as it means he can protect Liyue. 

To anyone who has never seen him or rarely, he looks like a strong and cold man. But is he really like this? He is an Adeptus, he has seen a lot and experienced some battle scars. Was Xiao always like this? Back in the days when all other Yaksha existed. 

Many things happened in his life. He can't even count or remember it all. But all those things made him who he is now. Although there are things which still surprise or confuse him. 

He never liked showing himself in front of mortals. There are just a few ones which he tolerates or even allows to talk to him. If he is in a good mood of course. The ones who know Xiao also know about keeping distance when he is upset.

But there's one mortal whose boldness or maybe stupidity never ceases to amaze him. He told you so many times to leave him be, added harsh words and yet... you didn't turn away. Instead approached and offered a companionship. 

He eventually gave up with chasing the silly female away. At first he didn't know why she was so stubborn. Mortals are strange but you are like one or two levels stranger than anyone else. Just why do you wish to spend time with somebody like him?

You are like a bridge between the silent and closed up Adeptus and mortal realm. Part of him is still hesitant and refuses to share his burdens. He might have allowed you to stay beside him, be it in silence or tell him what you did that day. What strange things happened or something. He would just sit there and listen. But none of this means he will let his guard down. He will always be fully aware of what's happening around. 

You are often asking yourself: does he ever rest? As you know him for a while you are able to recognize when he is really sad and you shouldn't say much. Or when he is quite alright and willing to listen to your rambling until you fall asleep. The fact you can peacefully sleep in Xiao's presence amazes him.

Today is one of those nights when he would have preferred to be just alone. But why does he feel this burning desire to pay you a visit? Is it because you didn't come for a few days and he got worried? No. That can't be it. Xiao has no attachment to anybody, especially mortals.

Truth to be told, he feels tired and despite feeling the way he feels. He decides to silently knock on your door. At first he thought he knocked too lightly. For a brief second he thought to himself to leave. Why is he here anyway? But then he heard your footsteps from behind the door. 

He feels so conflicted. He shouldn't be here, seeking anyone's company. Solitude and sadness are nothing to him.

When you open the door of your apartment, the cold is immediately making you shiver. Not wasting any second grabbing Xiao's wrist and pulling him inside. The cold is too much for you. How the heck he can just stand there and not shiver?! 

Be it anyone else touching him, he would have asked them if they do have a death wish. He got used to your touch at least a bit. You sometimes gently squeezed his hand in a friendly gesture. To assure him you are there, willing to listen to anything or just sit silently and observe the sky.

Letting go of his wrist and looking into his golden eyes. As usually his expression is the same but you can feel he is not alright. His shoulders are unusually down and overall his posture is different. 

"Is something wrong?"

You ask with a slightly tilted head to the side. You are not even aware of this, you do it automatically all the time. It's kind of cute but don't expect the Adeptus will say it out loud. He is already confused. He wanted to be alone, why did he come here. He is clearly delaying your bedtime. He should have never come. But the words escaping his lips are even more confusing him. 

"You didn't come..."

Is he really worried about a mortal? Didn't he promise to himself to never get any attachment to anyone? Not even to another Adepti. 

Your next move is really bold and unexpected. Xiao gasps in surprise as you wrap your arms around him.

"Y/n? What are you...?"

Perhaps embracing him would not be the brightest idea if you consider how little he knows about human interactions. But you couldn't help yourself. Feeling a bit guilty for making the poor man worried. He already has a lot on his plate.

"I'm sorry if I did worry you."

You said as you gently rubbed his back, drawing circles in a soothing manner. 

It took him a while to realize what was going on. He seen this act between other mortals but never cared what does it mean. It's just two people are in close proximity, touching each other. But there's something strange about the act. 

Your warmth. 

He didn't feel cold while being outside, he is used to it. But when he feels your warmth he can't help it but feel a bit at ease. When you pull back to check on him, he feels a little... sad? Perhaps he missed the opportunity to repay the act. 

"You know. There's something I had noticed about you, Xiao."

He lifts an eyebrow at you. Unable to contain the curiosity.

"How much do you trust me?" 

You ask while trying to keep your smile. Aware of how much the question doesn’t make sense with what you said before.

Xiao on the other hand is pondering over your question. How much does he trust a mortal like you? And why are you asking him in the first place?

"That's stupid thing to ask. You should have known the answer already."

There we go again. Xiao and his not so sugar coated words. Surely you know he has at least a bit more trust in you than other humans. But would he let you touch him even more? No matter how you put it, it will sound wrong.

"Well then... it just crossed my mind out of nowhere but. Uh... There's something that always bugged me. Do you ever rest or relax at all? I mean yes you do just hang around at Wangshu here and now. But I mean like a real rest..."

You had to stop yourself. Feeling how your monologue was getting worse by each said word.

"I don't need to-"

"Yes, you do." 

Oh no. It slipped out faster than you could think of it. He is silent, eyes slightly narrowed. Did you anger him? It's quite easy to do it after all.

"What do you propose then?"

"Eh?" 

"Don't 'eh' at me. If you think I need to relax then you should have an idea how."

You are finally on the same page. Sometimes you hate your brain to jump into way too fast conclusions. You motion for him to follow you to your living room where you both sit on the sofa. Telling him to sit turned back to you. 

You are sitting behind him. What are you planning? Ah! A gasp escaped his lips making him feel embarrassed. You just barely touched his shoulders. Not even using too much force, just a gentle squeeze to test waters. 

"So, can I give you something that my mom calls a medicine for tired muscles?" 

A simple massage. Just by a single touch you could feel how tense his muscles are. He nods. Being glad you can't see his face now. Biting his bottom lip. He didn't know how much his back actually hurts. Not paying attention to it anymore. But now, he is melting under your touch. 

You try to be gentle but also applying some pressure to help his muscles to relax. You had learned how to massage when you were teen as your mother always had back pain from her work. This was the fastest help, along with pain killers.

Xiao deeply exhales, closing his eyes. He hates to admit it but this feels good, maybe too good. Perhaps he could let his guard down for a bit, at least for now. Letting your skilled fingers caress him. Exhaustion and fatigue is slowly getting under his skin. And this warm feeling, he wants more. Just like when you embraced him a while ago. 

You noticed how much he relaxed under your hands. You can't help it but smile from ear to ear. The mighty Guardian, always so rigid can't endure the pleasant feeling. 

"If you are tired you can sleep over, I don't mind. Unless... you have plans to mess up your back just right when I fix them up?"

You had secretly hoped he wouldn't disappear when you are done. You know when he leaves your place he will go back to his stiff attitude again. 

"Somebody has to keep you safe at night. Take it as a payment..." 

You giggle as he says that. You could tease him about admitting he likes this but decided to rather not.

When you were done and brought him a spare blanket you noticed his blush. Not saying anything and just offering the warm cover. What you did not expect was him grabbing your wrist. 

"Xiao?"

"How can... I keep you safe if you are in the other room?"

Oh damn. Your brain is preoccupied with why he just won't admit he wants to keep you close. 

"Um, you want to move the sofa into my bedroom?" 

He groans. Why you must play dumb now? All he wants is more of your warmth. When you embraced him, when you touched him. He felt at ease  which is new to him. Is it too much to ask for more? Well, maybe he should actually ask and be straight for once.

"Just... stay close." 

"Oh-"

That escalated quickly. For both of you. You decided to spare him from more suffering as you could see his face was slowly turning to tomato color. And you? You weren't much better. Turning off the lights before sliding under the blanket. For once being glad to have a bigger sofa. 

As you are both laying on your sides you feel Xiao's hand hesitantly go over you to pull you closer to him. Don't even think of escaping when he falls asleep. He has you secure. And certainly he won't admit any of this the next morning.

He is tired and confused by his behavior but he decided to blame it on his fatigue. You better don't mention any of this. Not even the way he is having a firm grip of your clothes. Or how quickly he fell asleep.