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lilpunkrock · 1 year

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where you go (i will go)—part xiv

Summary: You are reminded that love invites vulnerability—for better and for worse.

AN: This is really the chapter and song that started this entire journey. Highly recommend listening to Taylor Acorn’s acoustic cover of Jamie All Over before reading the first half of this chapter. As for the second half—please don’t hate me.

masterlist

. . .

“Hey, please don’t tell me that I’m dreamin’,

When all I ever wanted was to dream another sunset with you.”

Jamie All Over (Acoustic), Taylor Acorn

. . .

Part xiv

‘Love can be scary. But that’s a good thing. Means you’ve got something worth being afraid of losing.’

‘You deserve to be protected.’

‘I remember you.’

When you open your eyes, you’re greeted by a sky full of stars. High above your head hangs a full moon, pale as a bowl of cream, bathing the beach in soft twilight. The tide is quiet tonight, its whisper no louder than the shuffling of the sand as you rise to your feet.

Your eyes track the dark path of the Milky Way overhead, a dappled stream of black, purple, and pinprick stars that trickles above you. When you turn around to follow its trail, you find that it arches down to meet a very familiar silhouette standing several paces away.

A soft huff of amusement escapes you at the sight. Funny how all paths are leading to him as of late.

Fake Dream watches quietly as you approach from where you came to on the beach. The light of the moon turns his skin luminescent, every beloved feature of his face set aglow. His blue eyes reflect the starry sky back at you. Though they lack the dark gravity that you witnessed in his gallery earlier today, something in those eyes still captures your attention, pulling you in. There’s a quality to them that you can’t quite place, an emotion within them that your mind struggles to put into words. A certain measure of tenderness.

‘Something within you was known to me from the moment we met.’

His words echo in your mind as you come to a stop before him. Oh, how that realization had cut you to the bone. A cure and an affliction, all in one. Keeping yourself from him in that moment had been almost impossible. Here in your unconscious, the compulsion to go to him is even more powerful. The knowledge that this is all an illusion wears on your resolve.

“Did you mean it? When you said that I deserve to be protected?” The question hardly feels real as it slips from your lips, a ghost in the saltwater air.

Fake Dream’s eyes watch you with an intensity that’s almost palpable. His gaze on you feels physical, a soft touch to your cheek. “Yes,” he breathes into the night air.

The sigh that escapes you is one of relief. “I’ve never had someone to protect me before,” you admit, your voice small and hesitant.

Fake Dream’s throat bobs at your words, a nonverbal response. You take one step closer to him, watch his eyes track your shift in position.

Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to submit, you think. To give in, just for a little while. To pretend that this was real, to pretend he wasn’t fake. To pretend that this was your Dream.

And if it did hurt…well, the only one you’d have to blame was yourself.

Your hands find his with tentative fingers. His skin is soft as silk as your thumbs trace the lines of his palms. Hands that had created, hands that had destroyed. When it came to you, all they had ever done was support, uplift, cultivate. You loved these hands.

The shift in the air when you touch him is tangible. A crescendo in energy, a symphony building. Coiled like a spring, and yet you know he won’t make the first move. He’ll entrust you with that decision.

“I’m tired of running, Dream,” you say, drawing a step nearer to him. Close enough that you can bring his hands to your chest, that when you raise your head to look at him, your nose nearly brushes his skin.

Dream’s voice is soft, betraying nothing of the pressure building within. “Then don’t.”

For a long moment, you don’t dare move. Not out of fear, but because the simple pleasure of allowing yourself to be this close to him, of allowing your guard to finally fall, is utterly intoxicating. Up close, Dream’s eyes are seas you could drown in. Happily, you might add. The warmth of his skin radiates from him, drawing a flush into your cheeks. His breath dances across your skin, a piece of him that you inhale, exhale. Your heart pounds in your ribcage like a bird’s wings, about to take flight. You wonder if he can hear it, too.

Breathing his borrowed breath is almost too sacred, too intimate to sustain. He could set your soul aflame at will. He could rip the air straight from your lungs and fill his own. He could crumple your paper heart in the palm of his hand. And yet, the fear of these fates is minuscule compared to your fear of the next moment never happening at all.

You had thought you’d been in love before. That was nothing compared to this.

When you lean forward, the universe sighs, ‘Yes.’

When you press your lips to his, it feels like, finally.

The two of you release a bated breath through your noses simultaneously, as if with the same pair of lungs. With the exhalation, the world around you stills. A moment frozen in time. Suspended within it, you’re not sure there was ever a world outside of him at all.

After a long moment, Dream moves. The glide of his lips against your own is soft as cashmere, smooth as silk. The pressure is sure and gentle. His bottom lip is full and round as it slips between yours, just as plush as you’d imagined. With each slow, savoring movement, a fuzzy warmth seeps into your toes, curling up into your stomach, unfurling in your chest. It feels like every attachment you’ve ever fostered–no, better.

What does it taste like to kiss dreams and stars? It tastes like milk and honey.

Only when your lungs burn for air do you reluctantly pull away. When your lashes flutter open, heavy with bliss, you find Dream’s eyes brimming with stars. Pouty lips parted and flushed red from your affection, he looks at you like a beautiful dream, a well-crafted nightmare. Like every ounce of gravity in the universe is pulling him toward you—a celestial body entangled in your gravitational pull.

He looks at you as if he doesn’t fear the inevitable collision. In spite of all that he now knows, he doesn’t look at you as if you’ll break on impact. He looks at you with awe, with reverence. It’s transcending and grounding, all at once. A rush of adrenaline pours through you, frazzling your thoughts, making you giddy.

When you press your lips to his again, it’s with fervor and a grin. Emboldened, your curious hands slide up his arms, fingers tightening around the sinewy strength beneath his cloak. Dream’s features were often so poised, so perfect, that one might expect him to be cold and stiff, like a statue. But the column of his throat is anything but inanimate as your fingers glide over it, eager and exploratory. His jugular tightens under your touch, his skin warm, his steady heartbeat thrumming into your palm.

As satisfying as this particular piece of him is, there’s something you’re even more eager to explore. Dream’s hair is lush and thick as your hand cards through it, the strands soft as cornsilk between your fingers. When they curl into the wild tresses at the back of his head, giving a soft pull, a delicious sound pours from Dream’s mouth into yours. You swallow it greedily, your bones turning to jelly. You want to pull that sound from him, again and again.

Your eagerness sparks a flame in him like steel to flint. In an instant, Dream is all around you—his chest pressed to yours, one hand drawing you into him from the small of your back, the other a cradle for your cheek.

You aren’t sure what you expected his touch to feel like. Dream was one of the most powerful beings in the universe, after all. Perhaps you expected a dominance in his touch, or a sense of power lurking beneath the surface of his skin. But this is neither. The press of his hand to your back is firm, but not forceful. His palm cups your cheek like a treasure, like a masterpiece. When his hands begin to move, searching, mirroring your own curiosity, every touch feels like worship, every nerve set aflame.

The press of his lips against yours, gentle and insistent, is everything. What need do you have of oxygen, of food, of water? None. All you require to remain is this.

“I’ve dreamt of this for so long,” you whisper as your back falls against the sand. Dream’s lithe form hovers over you, all long limbs and draping cloak. Grabbing him by the lapels, you draw him down toward you, unappreciative of the empty space between you.

Dream’s lips find your ear, a brush that sends a mind-bending shiver down your spine. His disheveled hair sweeps over your face, tickling your nose and cheeks. ‘’Dreamt?’” he echoes, lips upturned against your skin.

Your heart swells three sizes at the amused lilt in his tone. Maker, you didn’t know that love could feel like this. Like fire and ice, like a suckerpunch and the sweetest embrace, like a first and final breath, all at once. Your chest feels too small to hold it, and yet all you crave is more.

“You know what I mean,” you laugh, tilting your face to steal his lips again.

Time slips from your grasp as you lose yourself in each other. You had always known Dream to be attentive, a perfectionist, meticulous to a fault. You had spent countless days watching him observe dreams and nightmares in silence, making miniscule adjustments until each was just as he pleased. He shows the same attention to detail here–no curiosity left unsatisfied, no quiet gasp of yours left without follow-through. To be the sole focus of his attention is intoxicating, almost maddening.

You have spent your entire existence pouring love into others. For the first time, you understand how it feels to open your soul to another, to have them open their own in return. To see into the core of another and to be seen. To be thoroughly treasured, entirely engulfed, utterly loved.

You never want it to stop.

As Dream’s fingers drift over your skin, leaving fire in their wake, the rational part of you, the part you’ve been trying desperately to silence, reminds you that this is only a fantasy. You don’t know if the real Dream’s fingers would linger along the dip of your hips and the curve of your spine. Would the tip of his nose fit perfectly into the hollow under your ear, just as it did here? Would his lips quirk upwards each time his affections coaxed a soft hum from your throat, a smile you could feel, but could not see?

“I wish this was real,” you breathe when your lips part for air, leaning your cheek into the palm of his hand. Your fingers trail through the feather-soft hair at the back of his head, already eager to pull him back toward you.

Dream stills slowly above you. When he draws back, ever so slightly, his eyes are so clear you can almost see your reflection in them.

A confession shines in those blue irises, bright and earnest. Of what, you don’t know.

For several moments, all is still save for the rise and fall of your chests as you regain your breath. Then, slowly, Dream weaves his fingers through your hair, drawing your face into the crook of his neck. You press yourself deeper into his lean, slender form, burrowing closer, searching for more places to touch, more places to connect. Yearning to melt together until you can’t be distinguished apart. Until there is no place where he ends and you begin. Nothing less will do.

You remain that way for a long time.

Finally, Dream draws his lips to your ear. “May I?” he asks, barely more than a whisper.

You turn your face to his, nestling your nose into his unruly mop of hair, placing a tender kiss into the hollow under his ear. “Please.”

. . .

“Do we have to leave?”

There is a shift at the back of your head as Dream’s lips quirk against your hair. Damn that smile, elusive as ever. “I’m afraid so,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your scalp.

You heave a soft sigh, pressing closer to him. Dream’s chest is warm and solid against your back, his arms and legs encircling you as you sit together on the beach, watching the moon coax in the tide. Dream’s cloak is draped over you, shielding you from the seabreeze that skims off the waves. You draw it tighter around your neck as a new breath of wind tickles your cheeks.

“What if I just stay forever?” you ask, only half-joking.

Dream’s thumbs stroke your knuckles, his touch slow, thoughtful. “I suspect the world would become a very dismal, lonely place.”

Warmth blooms in your chest, turning you soft and sentimental. You lean your head back against his shoulder, peering up at his face. Mortal and divine vocabulary alike fail to describe the way he looks at you, to capture the feeling his gaze places in your chest. Like having your heart torn apart and sewn together over and over again. It’s a sweet kind of pain, an agony you know you’re blessed to carry.

“What I’d give to see the real you look at me this way,” you say quietly. “I don’t want to leave you.”

Dream watches you in silence for several moments. Finally, he draws one hand out of his cloak, smoothing the pad of his thumb over the wrinkle in your brow. Any sense of sorrow and bittersweetness fades at his touch, replaced by warm contentment.

“Do not urge me to leave you, or to turn back from you.” The words slip from his lips like a prayer, as familiar to you as the blue of his eyes. Instantly, they transport you back in time–back to Cathedral Grove, to the wedding you attended under the green and gold leaves, to the vows that were exchanged there.

That was months ago. Though you’ve heard these words countless times, even recited them to yourself, hearing them in his voice takes your breath away. “Where you go, I will go,” he continues, his voice soft.

The lump in your throat feels insurmountable. When you find your voice, it’s scarcely more than a whisper. “And where you stay, I will stay.”

Dream’s thumb trails down your cheek, favoring the curve of your jaw. “Where you die, I will die, and there I will be buried,” he murmurs, eyes bright with stars.

You can still remember the moment you looked up from the young couple’s glowing attachments, still remember the way he looked at you across that clearing. Was that the moment you’d started to love him? Or had it come sooner, later?

You honestly weren’t sure. It felt as if he’d always been yours. Life before him seemed like a strange and distant memory now. You didn’t even want to think of it.

“May the Lord deal with me, be it ever so severely, if even death separates you and me,” you finish quietly, eyes fluttering shut.

As you lean into him, savoring this moment, this togetherness, for as long as you can, you feel his warm breath over your skin. “What more could one want than to not go through this life alone?”

. . .

As you make your way toward Cliff’s coffee shop, you’re convinced that you’ve never seen so many mortals smiling on a Monday morning in the dead of winter.

Normally, Monday morning coffee runs are filled with tired eyes, whispers of plans for the Friday ahead, and faces glued to phones as everyone scrambles to organize their lives for the week. But today’s walk is filled with bright eyes, refreshed faces, and contented smiles. For once, everyone’s faces are turned up to the sky, or steeped in conversation with a friend. You barely see a phone in sight.

Must be something in the water, you muse with a grin of your own as you step into Cliff’s coffee shop. When the white-haired man affixes you with a toothy smile from behind the counter, you grin even wider.

“‘Morning, Cliff. The usual, please,” you say as you fish the cash out of your pocket, placing it into his waiting hand. “And add an earl grey to go, please.”

“Of course, miss.” Cliff is already pulling the container of milk from the fridge below the counter as he deposits the money into the cash register.

You can’t help the lopsided grin that warms your face as you watch Cliff set to work tamping the grounds, foaming the milk, brewing the tea. He’s always seemed agile for his years, but the way he moves this morning looks downright youthful.

When he twirls the long-handled spoon between his fingers before stirring the earl grey, you can’t help but laugh. “You’re in a good mood this morning.”

Cliff’s white beard frames his smile perfectly as he places the to-go cups before you, slipping lids onto them with nimble fingers. “Indeed, miss. ‘Suppose I got an extra good night of sleep,” he says.

Heat creeps up your neck as your own activities from last night come to mind. You hide a cheeky grin behind the rim of your coffee cup. “Glad to hear it.”

A mixture of excitement and nerves makes you impervious to the cold as you walk back to your townhome. Mind racing, you mull over possible phrases for the thousandth time since you awoke.

Hey, Dream. Do you mind if we talk in private for a moment?

That was as good a place to start as any. But what next?

Dream, what I’m about to say sounds crazy—

My unconscious mind is so enamored with you that it’s created a fake you that I’ve been hanging out with every night—

And we’re actually soulmates. Like, romantic soulmates—

You huff with dissatisfaction, taking a long drink of your coffee. That wouldn’t do. He’d think Matthew had fried your brain with a bad joke or something.

Dream, there’s something I need to tell you.

Balancing one to-go cup precariously atop the other, you dig through your pocket for the keys to your front door. Perhaps you could just wing it from there. Or perhaps you’d totally lose your nerve once you saw him in person. Right now, you were riding the high of your time with Fake Dream, drunk off the look in his eyes, the sound of his voice, the warmth of his skin. Would you be able to speak the truth when everything was real, when you were face-to-face? You weren’t really sure. After last night, all you knew was that you were tired of running, tired of hiding. Tired of not letting him know how you felt.

You were ready to make the leap. You could only hope and pray that you’d make it to the other side.

Your key slips into the lock with a resolute click. Warmth creeps into your cheeks as you step inside, locking the door behind you. When you turn to take your cups to the kitchen, the sight of someone sitting on the counter nearly makes you jump out of your skin.

“Maker, what is wrong with you Endless? Are you completely incapable of making a normal entrance? Is knocking a foreign concept to you?”

Desire of the Endless grins at you from their place on the kitchen counter, legs crossed, eyes flashing. “You sure know how to make a guest feel welcome, don’t you, darling?” they coo, all blood-red lips and bone-white teeth.

You shoot Desire a pointed glare, placing your to-go cups on the end of the counter furthest from them. “The term guest implies that someone is welcome, which you are most definitely not.”

Desire’s eyebrows perk up, making their golden eyes even wider. “So touchy these days. You used to cower in my presence. I must say, this is much more entertaining.”

Your jaw sets tightly as you drape your coat over a dining table chair. As much as it pains you to admit it, Desire was right. The helplessness you had felt in their presence had seemed inescapable once. The shift from fear to annoyance had been subtle. Looking back, you suppose that as your power had grown over the past few months, so too had your confidence, your willingness to stand up for yourself. In the past, your fear had stemmed from a lack of control over your circumstances. Now, you felt like you had a say in your future, a way to combat Desire’s interferences. Another blessing of Dream entering your life.

Desire’s gaze darts to the second to-go cup resting on the counter. ‘Earl grey’ is scrawled across the side in Cliff’s cursive handwriting.’ “Who might that be for?” they ask, voice sickeningly sweet.

Your fingers twitch at your sides, itching to snatch the cup from their sight. You settle for crossing your arms, instead. “That’s none of your business. Did you just come here to make idle chit-chat? If so, I really have better things to do.”

“Like what? Get back to your darling Dream?”

Something about the sense of knowing in Desire’s voice chills the blood in your veins.

Desire grins widely, leaning forward. “How was your night? Very eventful, I presume.”

Dread trickles down your spine, numbness creeping forth from the cracks it sews. You try your best to keep your expression neutral. When Desire licks their lips like a predator eager to feast, you suspect you’re failing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lie through clenched teeth.

Desire rolls their eyes, irritation pinching their feline features. “Come now, little goddess. You’re a terrible liar. Did you forget that all beings fall under my domain of desire? When I sensed your connection to the Threshold last night, I could hardly believe it. I thought, ‘Could she really be such a fool to place herself within my grasp again? Surely not.’”

The walls of your townhome pull away as darkness encroaches on your vision. One hand steadies yourself against the counter as numbness grips your knees.

The soft purr of Desire’s laughter meets your ears, followed by the sound of two feet hitting the floor. “That’s when I went to your quaint little realm to investigate. Imagine my surprise when I found that you and my darling brother share a soulmate attachment. And not only that, but eros, erotoropia, and pragma, as well. I swear upon my eldest sibling, you truly are a fool.”

Eros, erotoropia, and pragma? You hadn’t even known about those. The last time you’d been to the Realm of Attachment, only the philia had been present. Had the others formed last night? you wonder, mind racing.

“I must say, you did an admirable job of keeping it from me at first. A ‘B’ for effort if I ever saw one. But nothing could conceal what I felt last night.”

The feeling of hot breath on your face jerks you back to your senses. With a shake of your head, the darkness clears from your vision, revealing Desire’s grinning face mere inches from yours. “When I killed you all those years ago, I couldn’t have dreamt of the ramifications I’d see today. That toying with a mortal would lead to my brother’s undoing. I must say, you’ve surprised me, Love. And for that, I am quite pleased.”

Your fingernails grind against the countertop as you brace yourself against it. You fight the urge to run, force yourself to stand your ground. “What do you mean, ‘undoing?’” you ask coldly, trying to sound more assertive than you feel.

Desire takes a step closer, pressing in on you. Their close proximity, the adrenaline coursing through your veins, the dread weighing down your bones–it’s all too much. When Desire’s fingers cup your chin, you want to crawl out of your skin. You fight the urge to push them away, unsure of what they’d do if you did.

“Though it might be hard to believe, my brother Dream is quite the romantic. That lonely heart of his has gotten him into all sorts of trouble, caused him all sorts of pain. Some of it my doing, some of it not.” Desire flashes you a cheek-splitting grin. “Rome wasn’t built in a day, darling. Nor was my somber, solitary sibling. ”

You clench your eyes closed, repulsed by the sweet malice in Desire’s expression. Killala. Nada. Calliope. You can still remember the sight of their names in Dream’s book in your library. You can still picture how he’d looked at you when you’d asked what happened with them that night on the dock. ‘I am not entirely sure. Perhaps that is why the process continues to repeat itself,’ he’d said, his voice soft and sad.

Now, the truth dawns on you. The realization that, while he wasn’t entirely excused of blame for the outcome of his past relationships, their demise hadn’t entirely been his fault, either. How many times had Desire interfered with Dream’s relationships, and in what ways? How many times had they been responsible for Dream’s sadness, his loneliness, his broken, distrustful heart?

The thought makes you want to run to Dream, to throw your arms around him. It makes you want to tell him everything.

Your feet move beneath you as you resolve to follow through. However, just as you start to pull away, Desire’s voice makes you halt. “Dream’s falling out with Calliope left a nasty scar. Made him impassioned, turned him into a recluse. He’s walled himself off for a long, long time. But with you here, I finally have a way in.”

The world around you goes very, very still.

“My brother’s heart has always been his greatest weakness.” The feeling of fingernails pressing into your skin spurs your eyes open. Desire tilts your chin to meet their gaze with an agonizing slowness. When you lock eyes, you’re met not with malice, or anger, or annoyance. Only cold, hollow contempt.

The next words they say will haunt you forever. “Perhaps you really were made for each other.”

For a long moment, there is nothing. And then, like a loose thread, the world you know begins to unravel.

It’s a strange feeling, having the foundation of your life crumble beneath you. A war between emptiness and overstimulation, between immobility and urgency, between desperation and surrender. Sense of control slips through your fingers like tears. Surety flees with it, like a rug ripped out from beneath your feet. Your stomach bottoms out as you freefall, down, down, down, with no end in sight.

When would you hit the bottom? Was there a bottom to hit?

You had thought you held your life in your own hands. You had thought that the future was yours to create. You had thought you’d known what that future might hold.

You were wrong.

Your palms hit the trash can by the fridge with enough force to bruise. The acidic burn of bile and coffee floods your mouth as the sad truth crashes through you, again and again. As you realize what your future now holds.

Your gaze, hot and blurry with tears, rises to the cup of earl grey sitting on the counter just a few feet away. The one you’d bought for him. The one you wouldn’t be able to give him, now that your sorry heart had ruined everything.

The salt of your tears reminds you of the Dreaming’s sea. You heave into the trash can again.

Desire’s fingers rest on your shoulder in mock sympathy. You can’t bring yourself to pull away. “I told you I’d find what you loved and squeeze, darling. You should have listened.”

The trash can’s steel lid is cool and smooth against your cheek. You blink past the tears in your eyes, watching as Desire saunters toward the door. “You’ll regret this,” you choke past the vice that grips your throat.

Desire unlocks the door, then pauses. Slowly, they turn to look at you over their shoulder. For once, their lips are not pulled into a devilish grin. Their expression is devoid of emotion, their gold eyes hard with disdain. “Funny, the only one who looks like they have any regrets here is you.”

And without another word, they slip out the door.

. . .

You don’t go to the Dreaming that day, or the next day, or the next.

. . .

Once, spending your days alone had come easily to you. Though lonely, it had been preferable, really, to the painful possibility of having your trust betrayed. The painful possibility of losing something–or someone–you cared about.

Oh, what you’d give to return to those days now.

The Realm of Attachment starts to lose its beauty after so many days spent there without reprieve. The rainbow tapestry of the sky seems duller in color, the attachments between mortals glowing with less fervor than they used to. You’re not sure if it’s simply your imagination, or if your Realm is siphoning off the negative energy of its creator. You’re not sure you have the strength to care.

In spite of your homesickness for the mortal world, you spend as much time in your Realm as possible. You know the Dream Lord can’t reach you there. Only yourself and Desire are capable of traversing the realm freely.

Out of an abundance of caution, you don’t allow yourself to rest, either. Not out of fear of Dream finding you. You’re well aware that you can’t dream, that him contacting you in such a way is impossible. Rather, you don’t trust your unconscious to resist conjuring Fake Dream if you were to give in. You’re not sure what you would do if you saw him there. Fear that it would crumble your resolve keeps you alert at all hours, in spite of your mind’s pleas for rest.

It’s only when you need to grab your list of daily assignments from the Fates that you depart your Realm for the mortal world. Just enough time to grab your list, and nothing more.

It’s on one of these brief outings that he finally finds you.

When you walk through the front door of your townhome, you’re intent on grabbing your assignments from the kitchen and finding the nearest mortal to pass through without delay. At the sight of Dream standing in the center of your living room, however, all plans and intentions are thrown out the door.

Nothing could have prepared you for seeing him again. After so many days parted from him, it feels like it’s for the first time. The force of his presence, of how much you’ve missed him, of how badly you want to run to him, hits you all at once, knocking the breath from your lungs.

The realization that he must have been waiting for you here comes after.

Your mouth hangs agape, any semblance of coherent thought far from your reach. In spite of your mind’s protests, your body carries you forward, through the doorway. The front door closes behind you with a resolute click.

Silence.

“You have been avoiding me,” Dream finally says, his voice matter-of-fact, measured.

You draw in a breath to speak, only to come up at a loss. What is there to say? Any possible response feels like both too much and too little. You settle for closing your mouth, hands fisting anxiously at your sides.

Your silence is answer enough for him. “Why?” Dream asks, his dark brows furrowing.

Again, words seem to fail you. Your eyes slowly drift to the to-go cup sitting on your kitchen counter, still filled with earl grey tea. You haven’t touched it since that day, haven’t garnered the willpower to throw it away.

“I’m sorry,” you finally croak, barely more than a whisper.

Something in Dream’s expression shifts at the sound of your voice. He takes a step toward you, his long cloak sweeping the floor. However, when you step in the opposite direction, maintaining the distance between you, he stops. Confusion pinches his handsome features, darkening his eyes, forming new wrinkles in his brow. Knowing that you placed them there makes you want to tear your heart out and stomp on it.

“What is going on, Love?” he asks quietly, his voice softening around your name.

This is it. The moment you’ve been dreading. The moment you’ve been desperately trying to avoid.

You swallow thickly, steeling yourself for what’s to come. “I can’t see you anymore, Dream.”

Your words hang in the air, suspended in time. Perhaps they’ll never leave. Perhaps they’ll remain here even after you're gone, a permanent blemish upon this place you call home, like a scuffed wall, or faulty wiring.

When the weight of the silence becomes too great, you add a strained, “I’m sorry.”

Dream studies your face for a long time, his troubled gaze lingering on the furrow in your brow, the reluctance in your eyes. Finally, he shakes his head, just once. “What is the reason for this?”

A shaky breath slips from you. You’ve planned for this conversation for days, rehearsed it in your head over and over. Even still, you can’t conceal the hesitation in your tone as you answer, “I can’t tell you.”

Dream’s lips tighten in displeasure. Maker, how you’ve missed those lips. “You must.”

“I can’t.”

Dream’s mouth opens, then closes, throat bobbing as he swallows thickly.

You draw in another inhale, release another breath. Though it goes against every fiber of your being, against everything you want, you have to stick to your decision. That day in the gallery, you had told Dream that the war between you and Desire was yours to wage. In your heart, the sentiment still rings true. A battle between two Endless was sure to be catastrophic in ways you couldn’t even fathom. It would certainly rock the foundation of mortals’ lives as they knew it. Who knew how it would impact the universe at large. The only way to protect them was to wage it alone.

And then there was Dream. As long as you were with him, as long as the soul tie between you had the chance to fulfill itself, Desire would have a way into Dream’s heart. Dream would be vulnerable.

The only way to protect him was to keep him from you. You had accepted that now. Making yourself his villain was the price you’d have to pay.

Dream shakes his head again, a flicker of resolve flashing in his eyes. He begins to approach you again, each step swift, purposeful. When you begin to step backward, he opens his mouth to protest. Just as he does, your back collides with the wall, stopping you in your tracks. Though only a few feet stand between you, it feels like miles.

“I don’t understand,” he says again, his voice tight with an emotion you can’t quite place. “You told me that you were tired of running.You told me that you wished it was real.” He pauses, a thick swallow working down the column of his throat. “You told me that you wanted to stay.”

For a moment, there is nothing but the shallow hush of his breathing, a soft rush of air as the breath is pulled from your lungs.

And then, it all clicks.

‘I wish this was real,’ you’d breathed into Fake Dream’s skin beneath the star-lit sky on that honey-gold beach.

And he’d paused.

“Dream.”

At the sound of his name on your lips, Dream surges forward, closing the distance between you. He stops shy of touching you, instead clenching his hands at his sides. You wonder if he suspects that you’d run if he did. If only you could tell him just how desperately you wanted to do the opposite.

You shake your head, searching his eyes for answers. “How?” you ask, brow furrowed in confusion. “You said it yourself. Gods and goddesses don’t dream.”

“You are right,” he says, his voice gentle. “The divine do not dream. But you do possess an unconscious.” He pauses, considering his words, then dips his chin toward you. “I once told you that I contain the entire collective unconscious of the universe. Though I had never traversed the plane of a deity’s, I suspected that I could. I only needed a way to get there.”

Your hand slips into the pocket of your coat with a mind of its own. The cloth of Dream’s pouch of sand is soft and familiar against your palm. You’d carried it with you each day since he’d given it to you. Even now, when you’d been avoiding him, you couldn’t bear to part with it. It was a piece of him you carried everywhere you went.

It all made sense now.

As you hold Dream’s pale blue gaze, liquid warmth bubbles up in your chest. Slowly at first, and then spilling forth, overflowing, flooding everything.

It had been your Dream, all along. It was his fingers that had caressed the dip of your hips and the curve of your spine. It was his nose that had fit so perfectly into the hollow under your ear. It was his lips that had upturned into your kiss.

He had vowed to go where you went, to stay where you stayed. He felt the same.

He feels the same.

You almost wish you didn’t know. It makes what has to come so much harder.

With a shuddering breath, you steal your nerves, gathering courage. You close your eyes, unsure if you can find the strength to press on if you look at him. “Dream, you have to listen to me. You have to let me go. Please.”

“No.” His voice is firm, absolute.

You swallow, hard. “Then I’ll have to go,” you say, moving to step around him.

The touch on your elbow is immediate. “Wait,” he insists, stepping with you. In spite of the urgency in his tone, his touch is gentle, entreating. It makes you want to cry.

“Is that truly what you want?” he asks, his voice imploring. Asking you to open your eyes, asking you to look at him.

With reluctance, you do. Dream’s ocean eyes–always full of stars, full of thoughtfulness, full of intrigue–are soft, their edges red, their surface wet. They cut straight through to your soul as he holds your gaze, waiting for your answer.

It’s the most vulnerable you’ve ever seen him, this moment when you’re breaking his heart. The realization that you’ve brought him to tears before you’ve ever brought him to laughter hits you like a ton of bricks. The thought of it is suffocating.

In this moment, you hate yourself more than anything on this earth, or any realm beyond. Breaking his heart is the worst thing you’ve ever done. The worst thing you’ll ever do.

You ache to take him in your arms, to card your fingers through that wild hair, to cradle his face in the crook of your neck. One day, I hope I can explain everything, you long to say.

The bitter taste of copper fills your mouth as you bite your tongue. You don’t trust yourself to speak, or even breathe. Though you have a plan for what’s next, you’re unsure if you have any chance at succeeding. It’s entirely possible that you and Desire are doomed to maintain this cruel dance between you for the remainder of time. If that’s the case, you can’t bear to give Dream false hope.

Still, you can’t help but picture the bond between you, imagine it glowing white, vigorous, and radiant. You hope beyond all hope that he can feel it too, that he can hear the whisper of your heart against his, that he can sense your intentions.

Let me fix this, you think, holding his gaze as tears sting in your own. You drink in each thread of blue, each dark lash that frames those eyes you love, committing each detail to memory. Wondering if it’s for the last time. Let me protect you.

Dream takes your hands in his ever so gently. His thumbs skim across your knuckles, just as they had days ago on the beach. You can feel the request behind them, one last attempt to convince you. Please, they seem to say with each stroke.

You close your eyes as your heart cracks in two.

“As you wish,” he concedes quietly.

And in a breath, his touch is gone.

When you open your eyes, you’re alone. Your hands are outstretched in front of you, fingers still curled from where he’d held them. You can still feel the ghost of his touch against your skin.

Completely, utterly alone.

The first scream is torn from somewhere deep within you, a black, cavernous space you didn’t even know you held. Adrenaline rips through you, bright and painful, as you storm into the kitchen, throwing your arm at the pile of assignments sitting on the kitchen counter. The papers scatter in a flurry of white, flying across the floor, twirling in the air like snow.

The second shout is guttural, more animal than human. A howl of pain, a howl of longing. Your coat is ripped from your shoulders in rage and flung across the room. Other items follow–throw pillows, blankets, shoes, novels. Whatever is in sight.

It’s only when the cup of earl grey tea enters your vision that you finally stop. Chest heaving, skin slick with sweat, muscles caught between exhaustion and exhilaration. When your eyes settle on the cup, everything else fades away.

It’s only then that the tears finally fall.

As the sound of wet, choked sobs echoes through the room, you look at the wreckage around you. All of it mirrors the destruction you feel within–the pain, the chaos. None of it fills the gaping void that his departure leaves in your soul.

As the last vestige of your adrenaline slips away, you crumple to the floor, knowing that you, too, belong to the ruin.

#dream of the endless #the sandman #morpheus #dream #dream x reader #morpheus x reader #the sandman netflix #dream of the endless x reader #dream x fem!reader #morpheus fanfiction #lord morpheus #the sandman x reader #the sandman imagine #the sandman x you #morpheus x you #dream x you #dream of the endless x you #dream of the endless imagine #morpheus x fem!reader

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lakeofsilverpike · 8 months

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Been reading your blog for a while so I thought I would pick your brain for a bit. This Moiraine/Siuan train ride they are taking us on seems complicated and convoluted for dramatic purposes. Some things are problematic with 2x07 for me

1. To be honest I read this one on another blog and it got me thinking. Moiraine swore on the oath road as « Moiraine Sedai ». But in 2x07 Siuan orders her with « Moiraine Damodred » it seems a rather glaring mistake considering how very specific words are for the aes Sedai

2. Siuan goes alone to confront Moiraine in the cave or whatever, where Moiraine is opening a waygate. Does the amerlyn really go anywhere alone? Ever? This one I didn’t understand. Even being left alone with Moiraine in the hall in 2x07 seems to be shocking but she insists.

3. We have Lan telling Rand about Siuan, how good she is, from humble beginnings and blah blah and then cut to her shielding him. He doesn’t trust anyone but at the end of this episode he trusts Moiraine fully

4. We see Moiraine and Siuan in their personal relationship or where Siuan is the amerlyn. The power dynamics are different. In the former when Siuan is just Siuan the dominant one is Moiraine. We see it in the hut, and in the flashback. In the latter situation it is Siuan by virtue of being the Amerlyn. In their final scene Siuan is the Amerlyn not Siuan so the scene does not come off as personal

5. The scene where Siuan orders Moiraine to close the waygate: WE know they are lovers. But the way the scene was played out, there was nothing overtly pointing to that to Rand who was the only witness to it. Even the mention of love was vague, how a good friend would mention the years they have known each other. None of the heart wrenching betrayal of actual love, no immense shock from Moiraine after 60 years or whatever together. Siuan has tears because she is physically hurting Moiraine through the order. These two communicate in person well from the little we have seen. They get into things, especially Moiraine. She talks, explains and Siuan listens then replies. But here the replies from Moiraine are short, vague, lacking detail….exactly how she replied to the amerlyn in 1x06. It was just weird for me

Maybe me takes are totally off but this was a very strange way for things to play out. And I have confused myself along the way so good job if you managed to reach the end of my ask !

Thanks for the ask anon!

Here’s my best attempt at answers to your questions:

1) I think the oath binds Moiraine. Sedai is an honorific, like Prof or Dr. If you agree to something you agree to it whether you are called by your honorific or not. I’m calling on some New Spring knowledge here, but Moiraine has a complicated relationship with being a Damodred. And I think Siuan calling her Moiraine Damodred in that scene is meant to evoke a feeling of coldness and to bring in the baggage of Moiraine’s house. It’s a contrast to the tender sweet teasing Lady Damodred in the first scene. Tldr, oath binds Moiraine no matter which of her names or titles you call her.

2) I suspect Siuan rarely goes places alone and asking to be alone in the hall with Moiraine could raise suspicion. But Siuan doesn’t want anyone else to know about the fact that she and Moiraine have been secretly on this mission for 20 years, hence the secrecy. Siuan wants to confront Moiraine and she wants privacy for that.

3) Rand’s trust in Moiraine is one of the best things in this episode. I think part of it is Moiraine protecting him, but another part is her trusting him. She trusts him to unshield her. She trusts him to see her so vulnerable- in tears after she unshields him, crying and overwhelmed and thanking him. She is intensely human and vulnerable in that moment. And Rand sees that. This whole season he sees her as increasingly human, and that is something he really didn’t get before. Also Rand shielded is unable to even stand due to the weight of it. He felt that pain and then understood Moiraine felt that for months all while fighting to protect him. I think that changes how he looks at her too.

4) I think in the last scene Siuan is putting her mission above all else. She is doing what she thinks is right to save the world. And yes now she’s Amyrlin, but I think her commitment to this has been as steadfast as Moiraine’s for twenty years. Siuan chooses the world despite the potential for that choice damaging her relationship.

Regarding power dynamics what I see is that in public of course there is a show they put on. Siuan is the Amyrlin. And also she and Moiraine are putting on a show of hating each other. In private I think there isn’t a power differential. They are partners. They are equals.

5) I think Siuan outside the waygate either thinks Moiraine has an awful plan that is potentially very dangerous or maybe thinks Moiraine is a darkfriend (I’ve read compelling arguments for both and think either is plausible, though I think the former is more likely for reasons I’ll refrain from explaining). Siuan feels intensely pressured to get Moiraine to stay and not walk through the waygate. And so Siuan did what she felt she needed to when she forced Moiraine to close the waygate. Is this the best plan? Probably not. Things are blowing up around Siuan very quickly (and have been since Lan showed up saying he spilled the secret they shared for twenty years to Alanna and company, which forced Siuan’s hand), and so she acts decisively, even if it means hurting the trust between herself and Moiraine.

And let’s be honest, last season Siuan and Moiraine decided very quickly that the best plan was to go to the eye of the world with five kids even though this meant killing innocent people. They are both ruthless and singleminded in their pursuit of trying to save the world. I agree that forcing someone to channel is bad, but is it as bad as the fact that they both are fully on board with murder for their cause?

I think these are two women who fully believe their mission is literally about saving the world. They sacrificed their own happiness for it. And this scene is heartbreaking because now they disagree about how to save the world, which puts them in conflict with each other.

Moiraine looks very angry in that scene to me, but I think she understands that Siuan is doing what she thinks she must. Just as Moiraine thinks she is doing as she must when she walks through the waygate and leaves Siuan bleeding on the ground.

I firmly think this isn’t the kind of hurt that is irreparable for them. I think they did the same thing. Put the mission about the other. Put the mission about the person they love most.

Siuan is crying because she hurt her wife, who she loves so much. She looks genuinely heartbroken to have to do this (and I think she feels she has to). I think there was a fight/discussion they would have had if Lanfear didn’t show up. Because people who have been married for sixty years fight and yell and then talk things out and still love each other. Especially when, as much as it might hurt or feel like betrayal, they both would have done the same if they were in the other persons position.

Regarding Moiraine’s vague answers - yes this comes back to bite her in the ass. Communicating with Siuan would have been very helpful this season (I could write an essay about Moiraine not disclosing the stilling to Siuan because it’s telling about Moiraine’s mental state and so so heartbreaking. I have so many feelings about it. But at the risk of this post never ending I’ll refrain). Moiraine has made some bad choices this season, because she’s been desperate and depressed and traumatized . She’s trying her damn best. And so is Siuan.

Hopefully we’ll get more time with Siuan next season to put her decisions and pain in context. I do think this is an episode that reminds us that Moiraine and siuan didn’t choose this mission. They didn’t even want adventure like their book counterparts did. They wanted peace and a life together. But they heard the prophecy and did their duty.

#anon ask #moiraine damodred #siuan sanche #asks

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finniestoncrane · 2 years

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Hello. I'm back for more Ozzie content <:

Sooo I read your Riddler x Virgin!Reader and I was wondering if you'd be willing to write something like that but with The Penguin instead? Reader is being shy because it's her first time and Oz asks her if she hasn't had a a boyfriend before which she answers that she has, but she didn't do it because it didn't feel right until she started dating him because he is very sweet to her and she genuinly wants to have her first time with him? She may or may not tear up while pouring her heart out because she is afraid that she is overdoing it and maybe scare him away ;;

This so so very sappy but I'm a sucker for the content 😭

Thank you very much ✨

Don't Worry, Baby

Farrell!Penguin x Female!Reader, word count: 1.3k this man might kill me, he's destroying my life, i can't focus, and i'm so grateful for it, so thank you lil bb for encouraging it 💜 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi minors DNI!! 🔞 cw for nsfw stuff: daddy!kink, virginity, gentle guidance

Oswald beamed at you from his desk as you entered his office, getting up straight away to greet you enthusiastically. He was the sweetest, a real romantic. He’d demanded as politely as he could that you let him spoil you for your two-month anniversary, an arbitrary date he celebrated anyway, as well as the first month, the first week, and the first date itself. Despite his outlandish and expensive plans, you had managed to bargain him down to a nice meal, drinks at the lounge first.

“We can have a drink downstairs in a little bit sweetheart, I wanna spend some time alone with my best girl.”

He opened the drinks cabinet to the side of his desk, poured you both something that looked expensive, and sat down beside you on the couch.

“This dress, you’re an angel! Where’d you get this from, huh?”

“You bought it.” You smiled at him, as he feigned shock at the dress which had been delivered to your apartment that afternoon, a love note included from Oswald. “Thank you, Ozzie.”

You leaned in to kiss him, lips meeting in the middle, soft and tender, his knuckles grazing against your cheek gently as you hummed into him. His large, warm palm held your thigh, shifting up slowly, bringing you closer to Oswald, sighing into your kiss as his fingers, hand fully under your dress now, grazed against the front of your underwear, lazily tracing the slit as he groaned.

“Mm, wait…Oz…”

You held him off, leaning away from the kiss and avoiding his concerned gaze.

“You’re always so shy around me, doll. I thought you might get over that, no? Do I make you nervous?”

You expected his trademark smile, the gold tooth glinting as he grinned mischievously, but he seemed genuinely worried, upset that he might make you uncomfortable.

“No, Oz. Well not…not really, it’s just-”

“Not really? So a little bit then?”

“I haven’t gone this far before. With anyone. I’ve never made it this long in a relationship and I’ve never…when you touched me it…”

“Oh, sweetheart.”

“I’ve just always been shy about…that. Self-conscious I suppose. And I really like you Oz, I love you! I just don’t want to let you down.” Oz held your hand in his, squeezing it, smoothing over the skin with his thumb as you spoke. “You’re very sweet to me, you make me feel like it might be ok?” You tried to suppress the tears that were falling, embarrassment tinging your cheeks a warm pink colour. “I’m being really silly! I just don’t know what I want right now, at this exact moment.” You tried to laugh, but it came out as a sob. Oswald was on it though, holding you close to him, hands around your back, pressing the back of your head to his chest. He leaned back, your chin in his hand as he forced your gaze to his, wiping a tear away with his thumb.

“Listen, kid. You could never let me down. There’s no way, come on! If you want me, you can have me, if you don’t, we’ll go to dinner. How’s that sound?”

In that exact second, you knew you wanted Oz more than anything, and you sealed it with a kiss. Lips moving softly and then slowly getting harder, more passionate, as Oswald leaned into you, his hands gliding over your skin, clutching your body in his feverish grip, arousal building in you both.

Pressing forward, Oswald lay you back on the sofa, stroking your cheek, his eyes moving up and down your body. The tips of his fingers tickled at your lips before easing your mouth open, two of them inserted in, pressing down on your tongue as you sucked, intuitively. With his free hand, he slipped the straps of your dress from your shoulders, pulling it down over your breasts, his large hands cupping them, firm but not too much pressure in the hold he had. He moved to the hem of the dress next, sliding it up around your waist, meeting the rest of the fabric which now clumped around your waist. Finally, he moved to your panties, looking into your eyes for confirmation that he wasn’t moving too fast and met with your enthusiastic nod.

Oswald’s free fingers teased at the fabric, pushing them aside to expose your whole pussy to him, his fingers, wet and slick from your sucking, rubbing slowly, pushing into you and spreading you open, thick and warm and wet. As his digits moved expertly inside of you, hooking up and catching the more sensitive spots, he kissed up your stomach, mouth surrounding your nipple, sucking tenderly, his tongue lapping around them, his hot breath tickling your sensitive skin. He looked up at you, catching your eye as you trailed your fingers over his thinning hair, watching the way he tasted you.

“Is this ok, baby?”

“Ozzie, I want more.”

“Oh, sweetheart. I am more than happy to give it to you.”

With his fingers pumping inside of you, he unbuckled his belt untucking his shirt so it hung loose, undoing his bowtie also, along with the top button of his shirt, exposing his chest, thick hair visible, saliva collecting in your mouth at the sight. As he fiddled with his shirt, undoing another button, he took off his gold chain, placing it over your head and tracing it against your chest with his fingers.

“Looks good on you.” He winked as he stood up, gripping your hips with his hands and shifting your waist onto the arm of the sofa, raising you to the right height for him to enter into you. He slipped your panties off, grazing your ankles with his hands on the way down, pushing them apart and watching your spread your legs for him as he tore open the condom from his suit trousers, evidently optimistic for your date this evening.

He pressed the head of his cock into you, sliding easily past your lips with your copious amounts of slick from his touch, groaning at how tight you were around him as you clenched around his stiff, thick length, desperate for more.

Your hands grasped at the sofa, the pillows around you, nails scratching down the fabric.

“Touch yourself, sweetheart, grab those soft tits.”

You moaned as your fingers teased at your nipples, hands cupping and grasping at your breasts.

“Still ok?”

“Mhm.” It was all you could muster through the pleasure, but it was enough to have him start at a slightly faster pace, holding your hips to pull you closer to him, to get deeper into you.

Oswald shifted you back down flat onto the sofa, pulling out of you as he did so, and eliciting a soft pout from your lips. Leaning down into you, he kissed your protruding lips, kneeling either side of you, your hips raised up on a pillow, thighs around his waist as he pressed himself back inside of you. Oswald lifted one of your legs, resting it against his chest and shoulder, kissing your calf and ankle as he held it for leverage.

His large thumb pressed against your clit, rubbing small circles around it, the ring on his finger cold and adding to the pleasure, in tandem with the heat of his palm on your abdomen, bringing you close to orgasm.

“Sweetheart, you’re gonna cum…I want you…wanna feel you warm all over me…do it baby.”

You screamed his name, reaching your hand up to hold his shirt, cumming as he thrust himself into you, breathily finishing as you repeated his name, managing to mumble out a ‘thank you’. That seemed too much for him, as he came into you, grunting as he pulled out. He tossed the condom into the trash can, returning to the couch to cradle you in his arms, pulling you up by his chain and kissing you hard.

“You did a great job, sweetheart.”

“You were great too.” You smiled at him, winking, and you could swear you saw him blush.

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edsbacktattoo · 2 years

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tagged by @skysofrey my beloved 💕 thanks for the tag!

Favourite colour: it changes all the time! At the moment I’m very partial to an emerald green, but I usually tell people my favourite is maroon just to make it easy. It depends on the week!

Currently reading: I’ve been reading almost exclusively fanfiction since, like, April. Obsessed with works by @epersonae and @chocolatepot atm! But aside from fanfiction, I was reading Tender is the Flesh by Agustina Bazterrica and I’m also reading a poetry collection called The Rattle Bag. I read 15 books in February this year and then burned myself out on reading a little bit :’)

Last song: Right now I’m listening to Just Pretend by Bad Omens. I’ve been listening to it on repeat for like an hour. Brain scratchie. The song I was listening to before this one was Surrender the Night by My Chemical Romance.

Last movie: I think it was Mulan? Maybe? I think it was something I just put on in the background while I did something else. I have an annual tradition of watching a horror movie a day through the month of October, but that’s fallen through this year. :( I’ve watched like 10 whoopsie

Sweet/Spicy/Savoury: all of them! I struggle with spice sometimes, but I power through it because I Am Tough. 😌

Currently working on: My silly little fic. One More Troubled Soul chapter 12! :’)

I’ll tag (no pressure as always and if you’ve already done it feel free to throw a brick at my head <3) @tisziny @awkward-fallen-angel and @epersonae ! Also if you look at this with your eyeballs, I tag you as well. 💕

#this was fun!!!#im serious btw if you wanna do this and say i tagged you go ahead #i wanna know more about y’all!!!!!#you can also just drop into my inbox and tell me any of this if you want lol #anyway #about me #tagged

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onekisstotakewithme · 2 years

Note

Behind the scenes: 1, 8, 15, 18?

Neeks!!! 💜🥰

What was the first fandom and/or pairing that you wrote fic for?

It was for Lost, for a rare pair that had like maybe two fics on ff.net (and it's absolutely terrible, I wrote it when I was thirteen!). Fun fact, it's actually still on my ff.net profile. I'm too nostalgic to delete it.

8. Do you listen to music while you write? If so, share a song that’s been inspiring you lately.

I either listen to music constantly when I write or I need to write in absolute silence, it doesn't logic to me either. But a song that's been inspiring me lately is probably "White Hot" by Tom Cochrane.

15. A Hollywood producer tells you that they want to film just one of your fics. Which fic would you want it to be?

Aaaaaas if the answer could really be anything but "ye who are weary, come home". I mean is anyone really telling me that they don't want to watch a MASH reunion? (Just kidding, but I want to watch it.)

18. What is a line/scene you’re really proud of? Give us the DVD commentary for that scene.

Oh boy. This is a tricky one... but a good question nonetheless. (Brain... shutting... down...)

I think I'll put this under a 'read more' so I don't bombard people with analysis ;)

I guess a scene I'm particularly proud of is I guess the confession/triad getting-together scene, so spoilers for 'ye who are weary come home":

Peg and BJ exchange a look.

“Hawkeye,” Peggy says gently, “We wanted to talk to you about us.”

Hawkeye swallows hard, not sure if he’s heard correctly. “About… us?”

“About you and me and Peggy,” BJ says. “And… what we all mean to each other.”

This is the first bit, I really liked having Peg taking the lead (because she's been nudging BJ here the whole time, she's the one who said they could do this!).

“Hawkeye,” BJ says softly, his expression tender. “Hawk. I love you.”

Hawkeye blinks, and it takes a second to sink in. The affection in BJ’s voice sends fissures through him that threaten to crack open at the slightest pressure. “What?”

“God,” BJ laughs a little, tinged with hysteria, shaking his head, and the world is upside down and backwards because BJ- BJ can’t, not with Peggy right here- “I’ve wanted to say that for so long. I love you, Hawkeye Pierce.”

“But… but Peggy,” Hawkeye says, a little helplessly, turning to her, not expecting the tenderness on BJ’s face to be mirrored on hers. It stuns him.

“That’s the funny thing, darling,” she says, and smiles, though she looks close to tears. “I’m in love with you too.”

Here it is!!! The moment of truth!!! And Hawk's reverence for the Hunnicutt marriage means he can't quite believe that they want him - he turns to Peg because he doesn't want BJ throwing her over for him.

“I- I don’t-” Hawkeye stammers, afraid of what he's done. “Y-You two love each other.”

“Yes,” Peggy says patiently, “And you, darling. You’ve seen Singin’ in the Rain, haven’t you? Did Don love Cosmo less for loving Kathy?”

This was in my notes from Day 1. I always wanted there to be a SITR reference in this fic, and this was just. the perfect spot for it.

And the truth spills out, a truth Hawk has carried wound around his heart for five years. “Beej, it’s- it’s always been you. And I’m sorry, I-”

“Don’t be,” BJ cuts him off. “God, don’t you know? You saved me that first day, Hawk. I- I always thought Peg was the one who got me through but- but you did too.”

This makes Hawk flinch, and he turns to Peggy, afraid of what her reaction will be.

“I never meant...” he says, tears welling up anew, “Peggy, I swear-”

“Shh, darling,” she says, brushing a tear from his cheek. “I know.”

“Nothing happened-”

“I know.”

As much as i know "BJ and Hawk getting together in Korea with Peg's permission" is an old standard, I very much wanted Hawkeye to assure her that no, nothing happened between them, because again, he reveres their marriage so much!

“I can’t…” he trails off, looking between them, because to love them is the best thing he’s ever done- but it’s also the most dangerous. “ We can’t.”

“Who says?”

“The law. I- I can’t ask you to do this,” Hawkeye says, horrified. “You can’t risk your whole lives for me.”

“Hawkeye,” Peggy says patiently. “We know the risks.”

“Then you know what loving me means.”

“We do,” BJ says. “And this is worth it, if you’ll have us.”

“I-If I’ll have you,” he repeats. “If I’ll have you?”

“Hawkeye.” Peggy takes his hand. “Darling, BJ and I already decided that this is worth it, that every… every risk is worth it. But it’s up to you to take it.”

“And what about Erin?”

“We’ll talk to Erin,” BJ says.

“But-”

“Hawkeye, we could hash out every single detail right now,” Peggy says. “Or we could figure it all out later. We have time.”

Hawkeye looks between them, feels his heart crack open, and all he can do is stammer, “You stand to lose a lot by loving me.”

“Maybe,” Peg says.

“But the way we see it,” BJ says, taking his other hand, “we stand to gain a lot more.”

This. This right here is my triad manifesto. It isn't always going to be safe - it's a hell of a risk - but it's worth it and they CAN be happy. It's not going to be easy, but it will be love.

And Hawkeye feels the last piece of himself that he’s been missing since Korea – the last piece of home – fall perfectly into place.

I mean c'mon. Home is his dad and home is the Hunnicutts and I think the best answer for him is having people who knew him before AND during the war.

Thank you, this commentary is probably a bit silly.

#asks #neekerbreeker #neeks my beloved

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with-love-from-love · 1 year

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(So let me preface this with the fact that when I wrote this I was in the midst of a mental health crisis, and it most definitely reflects. That being said I’ve read over this letter a number of times and I feel that everything I said was the truth, just take it with a grain of salt. I want this letter and all subsequent letters to be reflections of my actual feelings, the joy and the pain)

The stars that shine, and the stars that shade

(Siouxsie and the Banshees, Dazzle)

So here we are again, another month gone by, more time moving right through me. Unconcerned by my withering corpse, time just keeps on going, and I continue to search for reasons to stay, to remain, to exist. I feel hurt, mostly by myself, I feel like I’m a horrible person, and I know that this may seem like I’m trying to garner sympathy, but fuck it, maybe I am. It’s not that I have nothing in my life that brings me joy, but the emptiness remains. I’m very glad to have stopped looking at instagram, in the past month I’ve only looked at it for brief moments a couple of times, I definitely feel less stressed and less anxious, but I still can’t get a job, and I still can’t make art that really compels me or anyone else. I always want this message to be one of truth, so I would be doing no one a favor by masking how I really feel.

Girl, you are rich even with nothing

And you know tenderness comes from pain

It's amazing how you love

And love is kind and love can give

And get no gain

It's down a rugged road you've come

Though you had every reason

You didn't come undone

Somehow you made it to the other side

You didn't suffer in vain

(Sade, It’s Only Love That Gets You Through)

I really resent being valued for my body, and I know that sounds really selfish, so judge away, please. I’ve caused hurt, I’ve caused pain, mostly to myself, but also to many people who didn’t deserve it. I suppose I’ve always just wanted someone to listen to me, because that was not something I was afforded when I was young. I feel that the only time people listened to me was when I was like, 20 and pretransition. As soon as I started transitioning no one took me seriously, and I feel that happens to a lot of transsexual women such as myself. The cis, straight, and most of the queer world really feigns interest in our pain. Marsha P. Johnson is remembered as an “icon,” yet no one did shit to help her, she was found dead and no one even has a clear answer as to what happened. I really have no right to be this upset, I’m the t****y 1%, I’m white, I’ll probably be fine. Still the pain echoes through me, as I know it echoes through all of us.

I have managed to quit smoking for the most part, and I have two DJ gigs coming up this month, one at gingers on the 17th and one at the pride march in Manhattan on the 25th. I feel really lucky to be playing at such an “important” event. To paraphrase Sylvia Rivera, pride is a capitulation to capitalism, it’s about the almighty dollar, and they want me because I’m a freaky genderfuck and it’s good optics for them. To quote myself, even gay people are straight nowadays. I’ll be really happy to play fun music to a bunch of queers in the hot sun, but I’m not happy that I had to sign a contract and write a bio for myself, I don’t want to market myself, and I don’t want my body to be for sale, but unfortunately, sometimes my body is my number one asset. Jesus this letter is so fucking doomer, but I said I’d be honest.

I guess if yer reading this and you feel pained or challenged by what I’m writing, write me back, come talk to me in real life, I don’t get around too much. If you’re reading this and I haven’t spoken to you in a while, I’m sorry, but right now my spider silk has become very thin, and I might just get blown away by a strong wind. It pains me so much that most people who consider themselves “allies,” know less than nothing about trans experience, especially trans feminine experience. Once, a person who I really kinda despise said they liked me because I’m “well adjusted.” Now, on the list of shitty things this person has done to me, that comment ranks pretty low, but it still stings me today, the implication being that most of us are very poorly adjusted, and what a fucking shock! Who knew it would be hard to be well adjusted when you live in a world where basically everyone hates that you exist, gaslights you, fetishizes you, feels disgusted by your body, and thinks that you are a dangerous pervert. Yet after all of that we still manage to “yaaasss” and “slayyy” and we do it with pride, because that’s all we have. I don’t wanna be a “well adjusted” t****y I want to be a menace to the straight cis world.

If you know me well I’d imagine you are rolling your eyes right now, so let me just say this before I really cancel myself. Pain is double edged, it is neither good nor bad, it’s just gravity. There is no cure for pain, there is only a deep understanding of it. I feel very lucky to have a woman in my life who really loves me and puts up with my ranting and raving, she brings me the most joy out of anything, but we must remember that Goddess cannot be found in other people, we must find her inside, and she is there, in all of us.

This letter really got away from me, but I urge you to continue filling the well that is your life, even in my cursed spiral, I still manage to create. I started making a photobook, it’s just a draft right now, and I’m being harshly critical of myself, but there is a tiny grain of excitement, that maybe I could really capture what little I have to say with my heart. I also have a consultation for FFS coming up this month, which is serving as my beacon right now, I know it won’t fix all my problems, but it will fix the problem of my ugly ass face. In terms of tattooing I don’t really know how much I want to do it anymore. I want to still use it as a medium, but probably just for close friends and dolls who want to feel comfortable. I don’t want to sell my tats, or participate in the clout trap circle j**k that is instagram. Will I be a star that shines? A star that shades? who can say.

“It’s gonna hurt, now,” said Amy. “Anything dead coming back to life hurts.”

(Toni Morrison, Beloved)

Attached are some pictures from the photobook.

With love from love

Sasha Love

Please donate to FOR THE GWORLS, a collective providing mutual aid and support to black trans people. https://www.forthegworls.party/home <3

Also please go subscribe to my best friend’s newsletter. She is an amazing tattoo artist, painter, and writer, as well as a mother to two wonderful cats :) https://tinyletter.com/angelauratat222

Albums to listen to:

The Fragile - NIN

The Velvet Rope - Janet Jackson

Love Deluxe - Sade

Exile in Guyville - Liz Phair

Hyaena - Siouxsie and the Banshees

Stumpwork - Dry Cleaning

The Sun’s Tirade - Isaiah Rashad

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kattartsblog · 1 year

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Rated M

Warnings: Swearing, baited fluff, Blood, Anxiety, Death Mention, OC x Canon, Self Esteem Issues

Today is the day, will Ilona finally confess their feelings to Melone or will their heart be crushed?

Author’s Note: I’m sorry if there’s any narrative confusion as the story jumps around time. Also the chapters are fairly short. Sorry about that. Lol this was supposed to be a Valentine’s day fic, but better late than never right?

Love was a foreign emotion in Ilona’s mind. Sure they’ve read about the subject in books or watched countless fairy tale movies in their youth, but actually experiencing it was entirely new. And that’s when they met him. Unlike Risotto, Prosciutto, Sorbet, and Gelato; there was a deep warmth and tenderness in his eyes. His striking slim figure and lavender colored hair was something Ilona never had seen in someone so… ethereal. Ilona suddenly grew shy, as they stared down at their paws with disappointment. Their deformities were far too strange to be considered human. “Ah, so the rumors were true. You do have a new tenant here.” Ilona’s ears perked up as he walked toward them, it was as if they were the only people in the room. The sound of his voice was sweet and enticing, “Ciao, sono Melone. Piacere. Qual è il tuo nome?”

“Ah… uh… Mi chiamo…” It was at this moment Ilona’s heart began to race. Their mind was in a haze and it was as if Ilona had forgotten everything; when their birthday was, what language they spoke, and why they were here. “I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance!” Ilona blurted out, their nerves had finally bested them as they bowed and extended their paw. Their paws began to sweat. Melone chuckled, “I was asking for your name dear.” Ilona wanted to hide away back in their room for a million years. The other members were chuckling at how much of a fool they were.

XxxX

“And now look at you, bad to the bone.” Formaggio said as he recounted the memory. He leaned back into the couch and ruffled Ilona’s hair playfully. Ilona puffed up their chest, “It’s thanks to you guys. I mean I’m ten times more confident than how I was before. I can take on anything!” Ilona punched the air dramatically. “Like asking Melone out?” Illuso interjected, Ilona slumped back down in their seat. “Well, maybe not that confident.” Illuso chuckled, “Man, you know he’s not going to be into a scrawny little nobody whose stand power is screaming like a toddler.” Formaggio glared at him, “Don’t listen to him, he’s just jealous that you’re basically Black Canary with the most entertaining ability.” Formaggio reassured, “I mean I would like to date you but, you already said no.” Ilona rolled their eyes at Formaggio’s comment, “That’s because you are my best friend and I don’t want a romantic relationship to ruin that.”

“All the more reason to ask him.” Formaggio and Ilona raised an eyebrow at Illuso’s statement, “Look, I’m sick and tired of you playing as this shy little school kid who wants to ask Maria to the school dance. I know for a fact Melone isn’t seeing anyone now, you and him are great work partners with chemistry, and most importantly you better nab him while you still can. Otherwise some other grody ass chick will snatch him, and I know a few people who have been eyeing him. So put your big boy pants on and ask him! It’s been a fucking year!” Illuso began to pant, Formaggio and Ilona were left in awe at the winded monologue that had occurred. “Lu, this is real life, not one of your soap operas.” Said Formaggio, Illuso sighed, “You’re right, sorry Il.” Ilona looked down at their paws, as another memory began to play.

#If I Had You #my fanfic #jjba #jjba oc #jjba oc x canon #ilona liquirizia #melone #risotto nero #formaggio #illuso #ghiaccio #prosciutto #pesci #sorbet and gelato #la squadra #cw swearing #tw swearing

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bohemian-rhapsody-in-blue · 2 years

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1, 4, and 7 for song asks!!

Thanks so much for the ask, Dweeb!! Good to hear from you ♥️

1. What’s your favorite music genre?

Alternative/indie rock, but more broadly rock in general. I listen to a lot of 80s music, mostly because my music taste was solidified when I was in elementary school and my mom and I shared an iTunes account with all the music she’d liked as a kid and teenager, so I pretty much learned to like what she liked. But there’s also a fair amount of early-2000s-to-2010s stuff in my repertoire too.

4. Do you like musicals?

I do! I feel like I should like them more, though—it’s been a long time since I’ve listened to one straight through or really joined the fandom for one. But I don’t, like, object to the concept of a musical. Hell yeah, you go, you funky little actors breaking out into song and dance at every opportune moment! Go off!

When I was younger, I used to have a lot of friends who were avid fans of musicals (the prime example probably being @macgob—Vane, if you’re out there…), and I sort of followed their lead and got introduced to a lot of musicals I otherwise wouldn’t have. And that sort of left an indelible effect on my mind and music taste. I took a whole class on Shakespeare last semester, and it was very difficult to do any of the reading without God, I Hate Shakespeare from the musical Something Rotten! playing in my mind in its entirety. (Not that I hate Shakespeare or even really have anything against him! That song just imprinted itself on my brain when I was 12 and refuses to let go.)

7. If you have any characters you’ve created, what’s a song that makes you think of one?

!!!!! My OCs!!! I don’t think I’ve talked a ton about them on this blog (partially because these specific ones are part of a joint project with a friend in which she’s the set designer/background artist and I’m the character designer; I don’t want to make it seem like I’m taking all the credit for the story), but they definitely exist! I don’t have a character playlist for them or anything (I’m terrible at making those, partially because my own music taste is so restricted), so in place of that, here’s the kind of music I think each of these characters would listen to, with a representative song for each. And apologies, this is about to get long!

Jericho would probably like moody/angry indie rock, the more obscure the better. But they’re also a closet fan of musicals, and I mean a HUGE one. When they’re angry or depressed, they’ll stupidly dance around their room to Greased Lightnin’ or You’re The One That I Want to make themself feel better. Shhh. No one must know. Representative song: Sweet and Tender Hooligan by The Smiths (they’re not obscure, and only sort of indie, but again—shhh. This is what I mean when I tell you my music taste is restricted.)

I feel like Julia would like classy classical music—symphonies and string quartets by Beethoven and Mozart, nocturnes by Chopin, etc. She’d listen to them while reading with some tea and some chocolate and it would all be very calming and Aesthetic. She’d probably also like Hozier. Representative song: Nocturne No. 1 in B-flat Minor, Op. 9, No. 1 by Chopin.

Rosemary would probably like relatively feel-good oldies, like The Beatles or Stevie Wonder or smth; I can also see her avidly tuning in to those “lofi hip-hop beats to relax/study to” livestreams. Representative song: Here Comes the Sun by The Beatles (duh).

Andy has me a bit stumped; I can see him being one of those guys who professes to not like music or be much of a music person, but one of our ideas for these OCs’ backstories involves them having very briefly formed a band together (not sure if we’ll keep this idea or scrap it), so I don’t know how well that would mesh with that backstory. I think he’d listen to some classical music on Julia’s recommendation, maybe even some loud, annoying John Philip Sousa marches (watch out, Andy—you’re channeling your inner Bunny Corcoran there!). But I can also see him listening to rock—like, good ol’, straight-up rock, maybe even harder rock and metal. Representative song: Welcome to the Jungle by Guns N’ Roses.

Xiomara (“Ziggy”) would listen to weird, pulsing EDM that gives everyone else a headache. Secretly, though, she’s also a huge fan of pop music, specifically that of early-2000s Spanish-speaking boybands. She’s probably got all of Reik’s discography memorized. Representative song: Cats on Mars by SEATBELTS, from the Cowboy Bebop soundtrack, because Ed from Bebop inspired a lot of Ziggy’s characterization. Another representative song: Irreversible by Reik (I feel like I’ve already cited Tu Mirada too much on this blog, and Irreversible is also a bop).

And a bonus album (yep, a full album this time!) that makes me think of my OCs, specifically Ziggy and Rosemary: Mother Earth’s Plantasia by Mort Garson. It was one of the earliest works of electronic music back in the 70s, and it sort of combines Ziggy’s music taste and Rosemary’s enjoyment of feel-good oldies and passion for plants (she’s a botanist). Ziggy and Rosemary were fast friends even before all the others solidified the friend group, and I feel like Ziggy would have introduced Rosemary to this and both of them would be obsessed.

[Song Asks]

#ask #answered #song asks #music #songs #ocs #dweeb tag #thanks so much for the ask!#also credit to my friend/future roommate for introducing me to mother earth’s plantasia #not the same friend with whom i’m doing the OC project but a different friend #who describes her music taste as that of a ‘chameleon sponge’#god i love my friends!#including you dweeb!#and you vane—if you’re out there and you remember all those conversations we had in the ‘anton’s smol beans’ instagram group chats in 2016…#just know i’m still here and i’m still thinking about you :)#(that’s supposed to be sweet and not creepy i promise)

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writerlyhabits · 2 years

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“No man I’ve been with has made me finish before…” and the boys' reactions

I've seen this trope before, and I'll see it again, but I'm in love with it. We all love a man who not only knows how to pleasure their partner but makes it their mission. And we have two of them. Beta read by @deceiverofgodss, thanks for putting up with me 😂

Sexual themes below the cut, afab reader, 18+ only

B U C K Y

Let’s just remember who we’re dealing with here. Sgt. James Buchanan Barnes, Mr. Written-by-a-women, a golden boy especially during his time, very popular with the ladies…

What I’m trying to say is he’s a whore. Bucky Barnes likes pretty women, and while he’s nothing but respectful and considerate, he likes to sleep with pretty girls.

And they liked sleeping with him. Because he aims to please.

So when 90 years later, you find yourself in an intimate moment with your boyfriend, and you tell him “No man I’ve been with has made me cum before…”

He’s floored

“That’s the whole point?? That’s our job, why didn’t they do it?”

“They couldn’t. I think I’m just-” He’s not gonna let you finish that sentence before he’s calling bs.

“You mean they didn’t try.”

To be honest, the bluntness he says it with is a little startling, but in the most refreshing way. He’s crawling back up over your body so slowly before he’s hovering over your lips, and it’s lighting your body on fire.

“When you listen to your partner’s desires, their wishes, watch their body respond and experiment until you find just the right spot…” He leans down to punctuate with the softest, sensual kiss he’s given you all night, and you can’t help but let out a little moan.

He pulls back with a grin before finishing in a whisper, “You can make your partner unravel in seconds.”

Just the thought of it, mixed with the preview he seemed to be giving you, makes you shiver.

“Will you let me try? Give you the orgasm you deserve? Maybe a few of ‘em if you’ll let me…”

Who can say no to that?

And oh boy does he deliver on his promise.

This man could eat your pussy for hours on end and still ask for more, and he’s got a way with his tongue that just makes it absolutely mind-numbing

And he’s nothing but attentive as he stretches you out on his cock, finding just the right way to angle his hips and have you bucking up against him in no time at all.

Respectfully, Bucky fucks. I rest my case.

D I N

As a Mandalorian, he doesn’t have too much sexual experience. He’s had brief relations here and there, mostly as tension relief; mostly clothed, hard and quick, the helmet stays on no matter what.

But with you? You’re the love of his life, he already knows it.

He loves your touch, he loves taking his gloves off after getting back and getting to hold your soft cheeks in his hands. Loves cuddling with you, and just having you near him. He wants to be as close and connected to you as possible.

More often than not, it leads to conversations rather than actions. Especially with a subject as intricate as this, when he brings up being intimate with you. Both of your desires, expectations, comfort, and experience. And you have something to share that he never saw coming.

“No man I’ve been with has made me cum before…”

"What? Why?"

His surprise shocks you, and you can’t help but snark back; "Well they usually can't find the clit."

For a second you think it’ll shake him.

"That's basic female anatomy." The conviction dripping from his voice makes you light up.

"Well, the rest of the galaxy doesn't seem to be well educated in that area."

"That's a shame. Defeats the purpose." You cock an eyebrow up at him in question, wildly intrigued by your Mandalorian’s apparent distaste for your lack of orgasms. “The idea is to find pleasure in each other. If they’ve never done that for you, they aren’t doing it right.”

"And you think you can?"

"I know I can."

He does. When I tell you this man is so tender. He’s got his bare hands all over your body, not only reaching the sweet spot inside you but massaging your clit with calculated accuracy.

And you know what comes off? The helmet, so he can further prove to you his knowledge of basic female anatomy.

...

Join the Taglist!

Taglist: @deceiverofgodss @janebby @lam-ila @dmward13

Bucky Barnes: @toothhurtyam @keepingitlokiii @ragnaroqk @iambeeee @st-verygreen @maltifandomwar @buttybarnes1917 @mass-percussion @johnricharddeacy @aiyanalevina @jjmrpcr @xxrikixx @lexibexbal26 @livstilinski @sweetdreamsbuck @peaches1958 @casnotcass-evans @to-isengard-gard-gard-gard @empath-bunny @dexter99 @emmabarnes

Din Djarin: @spideysimpossiblegirl @cats-are-a-girls-bestfriend @gracesmusings

#bucky barnes headcanon #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #din djarin smut #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian smut #din djarin headcanons #the mandalorian headcanons #kam writes #din djarin #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #james barnes x reader #my writing

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pleasantanathema · 3 years

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Reiner Braun | Instinctual Invitations

Pairing: Reiner Braun x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ Only)

Warnings: ABO Dynamics (Alpha Reiner x Omega Reader), Breeding, Marking, Mating, Knotting, Heats, Ruts, Frenemies to Lovers

Word Count: 5k

A/N: Part of my Nine Muses Event to celebrate 9k! Follow the link to read other fanfics I’m writing to celebrate. This was definitely a labor of love. I’ve fallen back into my appreciation for ABO dynamics, and Reiner just screams “perfect mate” to me. 💜

No one made suppressants stronger than Hange. They never divulged just what was in their special concoction, but all you knew was that it was damn near impossible for someone to discern that you were an Omega.

You’d even fooled that naive, arrogant, hubristic Alpha partner of yours for years. There was a particular disdain you held for Reiner. You could never really name it, but all you knew was that working with the giant man made your instincts sour. He seemed so good on the outside, all prideful charm and heavy pats on the shoulders of his peers, but when the two of you worked cases alone, his charisma always had a bite to it.

Maybe it was because he could tell there was something equally off about his “Beta” partner, maybe it was because he had some pent up rage inside him he only let seep out around you. You didn’t know, you didn’t care. You were patiently waiting for him to be re-assigned to the Behavioral Science Unit like he’d requested last month, but Erwin’s dawdling with the request had you worried he wasn’t about to separate his most successful Scout partners, even if they didn’t get along.

“Is my bow tie straight?”

Reiner asked you to hold his drink while he fiddled with the offending cloth.

“Yeah.”

“You didn’t even look.”

The whiskey from his glass was expensive, sliding down smooth when you took a drink. Rei let out a very frustrated noise, so loud and huffy it had the guests of the award ceremony glancing toward him. The hotel ballroom was crowded, filled with elites from Military Police, Scouts, even the fucking Garrison. There were too many people here to watch you and Reiner stumble over the acceptance speech; there were too many people here to judge that Scouts were being awarded this time around.

“Now your fucking lipstick is all over it.”

“Oh please, it tastes like cherries, you’ll get over it.”

Both of you were nervous, flattered but timid about being given a Meritorious Achievement Award for all your fieldwork done killing and documenting titans around the outer-wilds of the city. Fighting for survival in the trees was less stressful than trying to make a good impression on the brass as you received one of the highest honors.

You took another gulp of his drink before passing it back, trying to stave off the very worrisome nerves twisting in your gut. Sweat was forming at the nape of your neck, staining your palms. You shifted uncomfortably in your heels, feet feeling heavy.

It made you feel some better that the usually proud Alpha next to you was just as worried about giving a speech in front of Dhalis Zachary. The Premier was known for being strict, for demanding that military appearance be of the highest standard in front of donors.

Reiner was still fucking with his tie, angry muscles about to rip the threads of his tuxedo.

“You look fine,” you sighed, toning back the bitterness. You moved away from the balcony railing, wrapping your fingers around the black polyester ribbon and tightening it into sitting straight under his square jaw. But for some reason, you couldn’t let go, nails gripping into the fabric.

“Are you okay? You looked scared to shit,” Reiner plucked your hands off his tie, holding a wrist in each burning hand, “I can do all the talking, you know. You can just stand there and look pretty.”

“Y-yeah, I’m fine.” You weren’t. You knew this feeling, it was old and familiar, a churning pain laced with need slowly brewing in your belly, making you sick.

But your suppressants would take care of the issue, surely it was just your nerves that were making those heats you’d forsaken start to claw at you.

You hadn’t gone through a heat cycle in three years. Hange had suggested you take time off once a year to let your body go through it’s natural process, but you’d been so damn busy that you’d neglected to do so. Besides, you never had any issues, just a few flare ups when a particularly good looking Alpha close to their rut got near you.

This time was different, though, you could feel it. This flame wasn’t going to be extinguished once it got started—you’d have to go home after the gala and curl up, stop taking the suppressants in the morning so your heat could come to life in the next few days.

God you dreaded that feeling, cunt always quivering and squeezing around nothing, sweating in a blanket nest that only carried your scent and maybe a lingering, nameless male scent from a one-night stand.

“Hey,” Rei moved his hands to rest on your shoulders, shaking you, “get your shit together. We’ll be awarded in a few hours and then we can go the fuck home. Tired of being around your bitchy ass anyways.”

His hands were too hot. They were sweaty like yours, making you feel dizzy.

“I’m gonna be sick.”

You could feel it. Reiner could smell it.

“What the fuck is wrong with y—”

He dropped the last syllable, golden eyes turning into molten amber the moment your scent hit him full force. You thought he’d take his hands off, that he’d give you some space, but those instincts to protect must have taken over because he was pulling you closer like that would help.

“You’re a Beta, you don’t go into—”

“Omega, Rei. I’m a fucking Omega and I don’t need you telling anyone about it.”

You whispered your confession, eyes going glassy as you looked around the room, saw faces turning in your direction. Most of the old men here were mated, but that didn’t mean the building brew of the heat of an unmarked Omega wouldn’t catch their attention. Your neck throbbed, scent glands betraying you and pumping beneath your skin.

You felt like clawing at Reiner’s chest, digging your fingers into the perfectly pressed designer shirt and burying your face into it to be overwhelmed by Alpha presence. You thought you could stave this off, but the nerves, this proximity to an Alpha...you needed to get the fuck out of here.

“You’re going to have to take the award for-for both of us,” oh now you were stuttering, you were losing it, Reiner’s deeply masculine scent making you feel like a puddle. You hated these instincts, hated how it made you feel weak, hated how he smelled like the most inviting bakery and familiarity and how it made you want to fall to your knees and beg for the aching hole between your legs to be stuffed.

“You can’t get home on your own, do you know how many Alphas would kill for—”

You were pulling away from him, grabbing your purse so you could scrounge for those emergency suppressants to hopefully curtail this heat.

The pills were absent, your resolve fading as you felt like crumpling into the floor and clutching your stomach. You knew people were starting to notice, noses in the air to find out where the overly sweet smell of an Omega was coming from.

“I don’t need your help.”

“Who else knows?” You didn’t like how the rumble of his voice made your skin tingle, made your panties feel too tight, wet.

“Hange, Levi, the higher ups. They know, they saw it on my app-application. Said it would be…” you were starting to lose your train of coherent thoughts.

“...best if no one knew?”

Omegas were scarce. Omegas were weak. But you’d proven yourself in your training, you were too valuable for Commander Erwin to deny your approval into the Scouts.

“Just—just tell people I got sick. That the stupid little shrimp hors d'oeuvres... f-fuck me,” you meant to say something else, something like they fucked with me, but all you could think about was how those strong hands felt on your shoulders and how they would feel so good pawing at your hips as he plowed into you to relieve your stress.

Making a beeline out of the ornate, crowded ballroom, you had to excuse yourself as you bumped into a few backs and sides, stumbling over your feet as the clawing need in your stomach made you lose focus. You just had to get home. Grab a cab. Hope it’s not an Alpha driving, just get home to your nesting pillows and bury your fingers into your—

Reiner was calling your name. If he was your Alpha you’d be stopping in your tracks to listen to his commands, but he wasn’t. He was your terrible, annoying...strong, capable, definitely had a fat cock…

You didn’t know what you were thinking about when he finally caught up to you, pushing you outside the front doors. You wished it was winter, but it was a hot summer night, which just made the heat in your body worse, made your scent heavier, floating on the humidity. And there were people around, lobby boys taking in bags and tired families dragging their feet inside. Still the fresh air felt good, or at least it did, until Reiner invaded it with his scent again.

“I’ll get you home,” he placed his hand on your lower back, palm touching bare, tender skin from the low cut of your dress, and you came undone. You pressed yourself into his thick chest, wrapping your arms around him and fisting them into the back of his shirt. You could hear him grunt at the contact, the two of you never the type of partners to go beyond a pat on the back or a punch to the arm.

“N-not gonna make it home…”

“Fucking shit I always knew there was something different about you.”

He was dragging you back into the hotel, firm hand around your wrist.

“I can’t help how I was born.”

“Yeah but you could have fucking told me.”

You quit your bickering as Reiner paid for a hotel room, you pressed to his side and trying to mask the scent of ripe, ready to fuck Omega underneath simmering Alpha. You snatched the key card on the counter from a very concerned concierge, listening but not really as she explained there were special rates for those in heat.

“I didn’t want you to know.”

People were staring now, the smell of Omega becoming so heavy it even bothered you. Rei tucked his arm around your waist, leading you toward the elevators. There was a sour, thirsty taste in your mouth as you listened to your heels clink upon the marbled floor. The scent of arousal was on him, but it wasn’t his fault, just his biology reacting to yours.

You straightened your shoulders as you saddled up next to him in the elevator, watching the doors slowly close.

“Reiner—”

“Shut up.”

He was on you in an instant, heavy body pressing you into the mirrored wall.

“I should have known,” his voice was low, like he was divulging a secret, “a little Omega under my nose all long.”

You gasped as one of his hands skimmed up your thigh, thumb swirling circles upon your skin.

“D-don’t do this here, I can’t—” you couldn’t take it, you were putty in his hands, already looping a leg around his thigh and fussing with the buttons on his shirt. You needed to feel his skin, needed to drown in the scent of an Alpha.

You were half way through peeling his shirt off his pectorals, that goddamn bowtie still in place, when your throat began to hurt. Reiner actually laughed at you when you paused your hasty undressing, having to cradle the left side of your neck as your scent glands throbbed, begging for teeth to be sunk into the sensitive skin to be marked, claimed.

“Don’t you dare think about m-marking me,” god you wouldn’t be able to stop stuttering until you were stuffed with something, until you were able to chase away the aches before they returned again in a few hours.

“But isn’t that what little Omegas want?” He was toying with you, grin so cocky you felt like sinking your thumbs into his smile and hurting him. His fingers were under your dress, dangerously close to your aching sex. His hand was so hot against your skin, so calloused and strong. You felt like Icarus, like you were flying too close to the sun. The pad of his index finger curled against your panties and you could have sworn you were already burning.

You lifted your lips to catch his, only to have him turn his cheek as the elevator chimed, signaling your arrival to your floor.

You followed in his steps, tracing your dress hem from where his giant palm had touched it, your fingers moving it even higher to try to alleviate the warmth stemming from between your legs. The keycard was heavy in your hand, like it was about to open a door to something wicked.

“I-I can take care of this myself,” your placed your back against the door to your room, “and I’ll pay you back for the fees, just let me—”

“Just let you what? Go fuck yourself in misery for the next five days?”

God he looked so tempting, so big. He towered over you, scents of sex and earth and spice, like black cardamum and the bitter burn of peppers. You wanted to sink your fingers into his blonde hair and pull, pull him down to you, into you.

But you reminded yourself you’d be patiently waiting for him to leave your life. Mating with him could have him sticking around, could have the two of you fucking up and getting attached.

“Y-you have to accept the award,” you were literally slipping into the floor, gut twisting so badly that it felt like you were being ripped apart, your heat bursting into full bloom after his teasing touches. Reiner caught your upper arms to keep you up, making you whimper, and you knew the last thing you wanted was to be alone, even if it meant ruining yourself on Reiner’s cock.

“Your scent has made me harder than I’ve ever been in my fucking life. I paid for the room because I’m staying in it, sweetheart.”

He took the card from your weak fingers and shoved it into the reader, a big, heavy palm pressing against your stomach and pushing you into the open doorway. He kept his fingers on you, twisting his knuckles into the fabric of your dress.

“Rei, don’t—”

“I’m so fucking tired of playing games with you.”

The threads snapped with a twist of his wrist, the delicate front of your dress parting as the heavy hotel door slammed shut. His hands were rough, quick, tearing and pawing at your dress, your bra, and all you could do was moan and kick your heels off to be forgotten on the floor.

He pulled his crisp black jack off his shoulders, tossing it onto a desk chair, trousers and everything underneath following.

“I-I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” You were already on him, pressing your naked chest to his and standing on your toes so you could bury your face into his neck. You couldn’t help but to purr, that soothing musk of Alpha encompassing all your senses. Fingers sunk into his body, your tongue hot against his skin as you laid kitten licks to his throat.

“No wonder I can’t stand you,” Reiner’s hands were gliding down your back, admiring smooth, willing flesh, “why you make me fucking crazy.”

“Please shut up and fuck me.”

His tempting hands found your neck, thumb petting at the sore, pounding spot on your throat. It only made your scent stronger, made you keen and practically fall into him.

“Kiss me first, like you mean it.”

You didn’t have to be told twice.

Any fight you had left dissipated when his tongue slipped into your mouth, hands still encased around your neck and keeping you pliant for him to taste. Your nails sunk into his shoulders, toes hurting from strain as you pushed your mouth up into his. God he tasted so good, like the first taste of food after starving, and your body had been starving for years. Unknotted, unmarked, your body was screaming for him, looking for an Alpha to fill you in ways that your measly attempts over the years never could.

Violence was on the tip of his tongue, you could taste it, feel it in the way he started to squeeze the delicate column of your throat. Rut was kicking in, the overwhelming pheromones of Omega making his body respond, ready to knot, ready to devour.

Slick was pouring down your thighs as you kissed him, body overly ready for him. Your stomach was twisting in coils, so painful that it made you gasp and pull away from his kiss, ready to fall into the floor if his hands didn’t keep you on your feet.

“H-hurts, so, so bad,” you whined, trying to focus your breathing.

Reiner started slowly moving you back toward the bed, thumbs now petting at the apples of your cheeks as tears started to form in your lower lashes.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay, Alpha will take care of you.”

Normally, the thought of Rei referring to himself as Alpha would repulse you, make you gag at how arrogant he was, but in this moment it made you so weak, made you moan as he crawled over your body on the bed. You were so little under him, dwarfed by brawn, small prey begging to be snatched and taken.

His title was on the front of your mouth, ready to fall out, for you to call him what he was to you, but the sliver of sense you had left kept it at bay. You knew calling him Alpha could put you in a heat induced headspace you might not be able to come out of, might have you making lusty, hasty decisions that you’d regret once this god forsaken heat was over.

“Rei-ner,” it was forced, he could tell, the syllables stuck to your tongue.

He nuzzled into your neck, purring as he fell into the intoxication of your scent glands. Hands raked over your body, each touch jolting you like electricity, the webs of nerves under your skin coming alive as he toyed with you. Your legs spread instinctively to make room for his hips, but he kept his weight off of you, propping himself on his elbows.

“So fucking perfect,” he mused, thumb trailing along your swollen lips, smearing the lipstick he’d complained about earlier, “should’ve told me sooner. I would’ve fucked you through every heat.”

His words made you coo, made your fingers weave into his blonde hair and pull him down for another kiss. You couldn’t get enough of his taste, whiskey and fire and something sickenly sweet, like pure honey over powdered sugar. Reiner was still holding back, you could practically feel growls stuck in his chest when your hands eagerly wandered over his plush pectorals.

So big. He’d be such a good protector. Such a good mate.

“Need you, need you, Rei, p-please,” you shifted your hips as you spoke, ready to flip onto your stomach so he could take you from behind. It’s how you got through all the heats you ever had before; face down in pillows, letting some Alpha fuck you senseless like nature intended. But his hands stilled you, pinned you down below him.

“Wanna watch your face as I take what’s mine.”

The tips of your ears felt scorched from his words and the blood in your body flushed under your skin.

His. You wanted to be his, fuck, you wanted your Alpha, needed him, need him to knot you and—

“Take me, f-fuck, I hurt so bad,” you were crying again, the pain in your womb like a knife sawing through flesh, twisting and turning.

“Gonna take such good care of you.”

And you knew he would. That’s the way Reiner was. A protector. A provider. Arrogant to mask the sweetness, prideful to hide the humility.

Big hands cupped your cheeks as his cockhead brushed through your folds, sending your neck flying back as you screamed just from the relief of feeling him spread your overheated slick.

“Gonna fill you to the brim with my cum.”

That broke you. Your last little grip on your sanity was remembering that Hange’s suppressants didn’t mix well with birth control. You hadn’t been on the pill for years, and with how strong this heat was, how repressed your body had felt, you were probably more fertile than you’d ever been.

“Fuck,” your hands found his face, and when he looked at you, you sailed away in the gold currents of his gaze, “breed me.”

His massive cock started to sink into your tight hole, the copious amounts of slick gushing from inside of you making his penetration easier. But even still, he was so engorged with blood and hormones ready to knot that his fat cock struggled to breach that first tight ring of muscle. You hissed, not from pain, but from relief, so ready to be full that no amount of stretching would detract from your pleasure.

Heavy hands were on your hips, pulling you down to take all of him in. He was finally growling, your walls constricting around him and making him go absolutely mad.

“Gonna breed you, Omega, give you my babies, f-fuck yes, have you dripping with cum.”

The blinding pleasure was almost devastating, making you feel numb, making you feel like this was all you ever needed in the whole goddamn world—all you needed was Reiner’s cock to bring you rapture, to have you ascending to the holy planes that zealots coveted.

“Move,” it was a quick plea, your legs curling around his waist in encouragement, “please, please fuck me, breed me.”

He started a slow pace, but was enough to have you spiraling, eyes fluttering shut as you got lost in him. One of his hands swatted at your cheek, just enough to sting.

“Eyes open. Watch me, be with me.”

You tried your best to obey, but the drumming of his cock in your cunt had you seeing dark spots even as your eyes opened again. Reiner kept his hand on your face, locking it around your jaw so you watched him as he fucked you, his beautiful, defined cheekbones tinted pink as he became overwhelmed with his rut.

How many times had you looked at him before? How many days had you spent working alongside him, doing your best to avoid looking at him? He got under your skin, made you feel weak. Maybe this was why, maybe you were repressing just how much you wanted him. Maybe he was meant to be your—

“Alpha,” you breathed it out, let it fan over his ears, let it sink into his psyche.

The word felt like a relief, like a sin. That attachment you feared was already caging you in.

His pace kicked up to something brutal as you acknowledged not just his biology, but his title to you.

You screamed so loudly that it hurt, had your throat burning as your moans bled into whines and mewls as he took from your willing cunt.

A cacophony of sex filled the hotel room, the sound of primal grunts, shrill little screams, of flesh against flesh, balls slapping against your ass, his cock ramming into your squelching, drooling pussy.

“That’s right, fuck, you’re mine, Omega. Mine.” He repeated the last word a few more times as he bent your legs farther back, straddling your thighs with his muscular legs as he folded you into a mating press. His cock began to stroke that sweet, spongy spot inside of you at the new angle, drilling into you at just the right curve to have you cumming before your body could even enjoy the build up.

You shattered, cunt clenching and as you were so pleased to orgasm around a thick Alpha cock. You were babbling nonsense, even thanking him for letting you cum. Just a string of pleas and AlphaAlphaAlpha pouring off your tongue and melting into his sweaty skin.

Your orgasm had your scent fresh in the room, had your neck fucking pounding with the need to be bitten, to be claimed.

Reiner could smell it, could smell your insatiable need, instincts picking up on words you just couldn’t say.

“Let me have you,” he demanded it between kisses to your shoulder, lips trailing up and stopping at the saccharine reek of your scent glands just below your jaw.

He wouldn’t claim you without permission, he wasn’t that kind of man, wasn’t that kind of Alpha.

You fell into a symphony of moans, neck tilting back in instinctual insinuation, but mouth still unwilling to make that plea. But then his scent overwhelmed you again, like spicy hot peppers and the sweetest sugar flooding over your body. You knew that scent by heart, had smelled it in smaller increments every day for years, had tried to ignore it, but now you couldn’t.

His cock was swelling inside of you, his ruthless pace and your lingering orgasm edging him closer to release. The hand on your hip had bruised your skin, perfect indent of his palm, his long fingers, etched into your skin. The other was pulling at your neck, pushing your face to the side as he skimmed the bridge of nose along your skin, waiting, wanting.

“Omega,” he purred, calling you, begging you, “please, yours, mine.”

He was losing his thoughts too, drowning in instincts and euphoria.

Your fingers laced in his hair, pulling his mouth closer to what he wanted.

“Yours, Alpha, f-fuck,” your acceptance was loud and clear, even through the fog and sounds of sex. One bite was all it took, teeth barely sinking into your skin. You cried from how good it felt, that ache finally silenced as his tongue lapped over that patch on your neck that could now only belong to him.

A bond was tightening, something scientists still couldn’t fully explain—being marked, claimed, it tethered you to someone beyond all comprehension. It was like making a deal with a devil, selling your soul, and for you, it was an admittance to attraction and acceptance of intimacy that you felt with Reiner.

The act of marking had his cock swelling inside you, knotting you and spilling his seed into your depths to stay. That overbearing fullness had you tumbling over the orgasmic mountain again, had you clinging and screaming, colors you’d never fucking seen before bursting in the corners of your eyes and traveling over your body like fireworks. You shivered in his arms, quaked, fell apart, and he held you. Purring, comforting, like he’d finally brought you home.

Time didn’t seem to exist, lines between pleasure and pain so blurred that you couldn’t even feel the burn in your legs from being spread open for so long. You stayed in that mating press for what felt like hours. Reiner kept kissing at your neck, letting his scent blend in with yours.

You’d never smell the same again. You’d always be tainted with him, carry bits of his scent with you forever. The thought didn’t even bother you, just brought you comfort, made you purr as your fingers lazily threaded through his hair.

Finally, his cock became soft enough for him to pull out of you, lines of cum dripping from your abused pussy as he fell on his back next to you.

The love hormones kicked in, had you curling around him even as you stretched out weary muscles. You were ready to sleep, ready to rest until the next wave of your heat came in a few hours and had you pleading for him again.

But a pesky thought plagued your mind, a jealous one, one you’d never had about another Alpha before.

How many other Omegas had wanted what was yours? How many of them had Reiner denied a claim to before you?

“Why me?” you murmured into his heaving chest, fingertips drawing aimless circles in his downy chest hair.

“Could ask you the same thing.”

You sat up to look at him, to let him cup your cheek as his eyes flickered over your face.

“How many Alphas have wanted you?”

There was solace in knowing he had the same questions.

“Haven’t had a heat since I met you.”

Concern flashed across his face, that intensity you were used to seeing in his brow coming to life.

“You won’t do that again.”

His command made you feel warm, had your belly already pulling and churning and wanting again.

“I won’t. Because even though you’re a shitty partner, you’re my mate.”

That realization swept over him hard and fast, a range of emotions painting his features before he settled on a smile.

His thumb petted your skin, bringing you in for a kiss.

“You’re the only award I needed tonight.”

#reiner braun #reiner x reader #reiner braun x reader #abo #reiner smut #aot #snk #snk reiner #aot reiner #attack on titan #aot fanfic #snk fanfic #attack on titan fanfiction #reiner x you #reiner braun x you

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kirishoshego · 3 years

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Confidental Composition//Bakugo

!!!MINORS DNI!!! 18+ONLY !!!

This is the first part of my little 'Teachers Pet Series' (I will add the link once I got all parts covered and the right ideas).

Summary: A simple task fucked up late at night as you send the wrong version of a piece of homework to your English literature teacher Mister Bakugo. Of course, he would want to see you after class the next day. But not for the reasons you might think. Pairing: Docent!Bakugo x afab!student!y/n // Words: 4.2k+ Side note: Insert a friend or random name you want for X :)

TW: nsfw: slow burn (sorry), spanking with a ruler, hair pulling, being bend over a desk, calling him sir, spitting, choking, dirty talk, degrading, slight praise

„Write an essay about the worst description of a woman or coitus. In the essay, explain why it is bad and then rewrite it. At least 30 pages, max. 60 pages (sources and any other extras you please to include, excluded). Due Date: 8 weeks from now on, 35% worth of your end grade. Questions can be asked per E-Mail, or, if you must, I’m free every Wednesday afternoon for meetings strictly for this essay and this essay only.“

A sigh left your lips as you starred at the piece of paper for the tenth time today ever since he handed it out to you and your classmates. The options you had were endless, you knew so many bad pieces about both topics and could write more than 100 pages about them as well. Everyone in class you talked to had decided on their topic already, some were even further. It was X who told you to just write the topics on a piece of paper and let fate do its work.

Black ink on a badly ripped blue note decided that you were going to write about a sex scene. Just now that you thought about it, rewriting something like that for your professor to read was an awfully stupid idea, yet you decided to listen to a small piece of paper.

At first, you were going to go with Fifty Shades of Grey but you felt like the choice was chewed up and spat out. It took you three days to finally decide on a book and once you settled there was no turning back. Considering your ignited interest in this topic you weren’t surprised when you were done within the first four weeks. Knowing the editing is going to take another week, maybe even a week and a half, you decided to take a small break, just one or two days off. On your second day, you decided to visit the new coffee shop that had just opened up around the corner.

Never had you expected to see your professor near your living spot. You were about to greet him when you noticed his pissed-off expression on his face and only now did you spot the woman behind him. She grabbed his arm and made him turn on the relatively small and empty street.

„Suki you can’t be serious,“ she was angry and hurt, while he seemed to be angry and annoyed. Not much of a difference than to how you see him on the daily, to be honest. „Are you fucking stupid? Of course, I’m fucking god damn serious. It was your choice to cheat on me and now I choose to throw you on the streets where you apparently belong, go ask one of your little boy toys to take you in for all I care,“ you were frozen in place, not entirely sure what to do. Right now your eyes were glued on his chest that was clad in a tight, black pullover, rising up and down heavily as his nostrils were flared caused by his anger. „Because you gave me no choice! If you like that sort of weird, rough shit then paddle your own canoe! I need something soft and tender-,“ before she could finish her sentence he laughed. Cold and slightly maniac in a way.

„Then get some fucking chicken! If you don’t like how I’m in bed then break up with me and piss off but don’t send my best friend a nude to ask him to come over. Even a ten-year-old would see how stupid that is,“at that moment your eyes met. His eyebrows were furled together, red eyes expression furry and disgust. Blond hair usually styled like he was going to be on the cover of Vogue, like he had been before, now slightly messy. Plump lips slightly apart to let his teeth shine through slightly before wetting them with his tongue. Your eyes widened and before you knew what you were doing you waved at him, making him cock his eyebrows in confusion for a second before noticing it was you who he was looking at. Turning on your heels you walked past busy crowds of people as you walked back home, trying to understand what you had just seen and why your angry professor had turned you on more than anyone had done before.

It was a stupid idea to ditch the next teaching unit of his but you had absolutely no clue how you were going to look at him. You knew teachers had a private life themselves, but never would you have guessed that you would run into one of them in your small area. As far as you knew he lived across town according to the very, very few private stories he had shared in magazines.

„Dear Professor,

down below is my finished project as an attachment in form of a PDF. I know you request it to be printed as well and I had planned to hand it in today, but sadly I came down with the flu. I’m looking forward to attending your next unit in the following week.

Have a nice week,

Y/N Y/L/N“

Maybe he had forgotten that you were there already and you were worrying too much about it. You were his student, nothing more, nothing less. Bakugo could care less about you, right? The flu did go around a lot right now, so it wouldn’t be completely unthinkable that you were sick. Itching eyes signaled you that it was time to go to bed now, so you closed your laptop and went to bed, not knowing what the next day will hold for you.

X had waited for you at the main entrance the next day to give you all the information you might need and ask why you weren’t there, considering it was obvious that you had the flu for one day only. At first, you were hesitant to explain what you had witnessed, it was messy already and you doubt Mister Bakugo would want the fight to go viral at his workplace. „Just one of those days you know? I had my mind completely full and felt like crap,“ that was the best excuse you could come up with, a white little lie that wouldn’t harm anyone. „Glad to see you’re doing- Oh, hello Professor,“ X smiled at someone behind you. There was no need to turn around to know who it was, the scent of his very expensive and extremely beguiling perfume clouding your mind. „Hello,“ his gruff voice greeted your friend shortly as you turned around, met with his muscular chest. You didn’t expect him to be so close to you, but here you were, tilting your head slightly as you looked up to him through your lashes, feeling not just your cheeks growing hot. „Good morning Sir,“ your voice sounded a lot more confident than you were feeling. Bakugo clenched his fist around the fake leather of his bag, his red eyes starring right into your soul as you had no chance of escaping whatever was going to happen next. „Miss Y/L/N, just the person I was looking for,“ fuck. „You were?“ X and you said at the same time, but your friend decided to excuse themself after a single glare from the older man. „How may I help you, Professor?“ You asked after swallowing down the anxious feeling that threatened to rise. „I received your Mail yesterday, with the PDF,“ okay, why did he search you just to tell you he got your assignment? Was it that bad? „But I’m relatively sure that it was the wrong one, considering I doubt that you want your teacher to know that 'this shit is so bad, but I wouldn’t mind being bent over a writing desk like that' with a smirking emoji at the end,“ only when his finger pushed your chin upwards gently you noticed that it was agape, shame filling every molecule in your body as you already planned your escape out of this country. Nobody was near you to see the weirdly intimidating scene happening between you and your teacher.

„Also I know you didn’t have the flu. I don’t appreciate being lied to. Tomorrow five p.m. in my office, don’t be late or you will get in more trouble. Send me the actual version tonight so I can grade it. I won’t let something as unprofessional as this slide again, understood?“ You nodded, taking in all of the information given to you, and somewhat in all of this mess felt thankful that he was giving you a second chance. The man in front of you rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue, ordering you to speak up. „Yes Sir, thank you,“ you sounded more confident than you felt inside. „Good,“ was all Bakugo said before he turned around, leaving you behind in the big hall dumbfounded and confused… And horny.

As if Chronos himself felt immense joy in your misery, minutes appeared to be hours and the panic inside of you only grew the closer you came to five in the afternoon. You tried everything, watching a show, listening to podcasts and audiobooks, reading a book you had put of for so long, went outside, cooked something, worked on another assignment, stopped yourself from destroying your hair, made the phone call you so desperately had put off and it’s still only ten p.m on the same day. How was that even possible? As you laid in bed you tossed and turned, the thought of your really hot teacher all angry, breathing heavily, his hands roaming your body. It was hard to pinpoint exactly when those thoughts turned into a very lucid dream, but when you woke up in the morning, already an hour too late to your first period, all you wanted to do was scream into your pillow.

Considering first class is canceled, you wanna go grab breakfast? X texted you.

Canceled? Checking your mails you saw your teacher had sent out a mail, excusing themselves and explaining they came down with the flu. A blessing in disguise. You let X know that you would meet up at the building and go grab something near it. Once agreed, you took a quick shower, a moment of peace given to you as water hit your body. There was no way you could do anything between your last class and the meeting with Professor Bakugo, so you tried to look your best possible for the next upcoming hours.

Suddenly time flew by and the closer you got the more you begged for a little bit more time, for him to postpone it, anything. But no, here you were, five minutes early and looking around to spot the blond man with no luck. „Miss Y/L/N. Step inside,“ you jumped slightly as his voice boomed up behind you, not expecting him to be in the office already.

Once you walked inside you were stunned about how clean everything was, no matter where you looked it was neat. His books were sorted alphabetically with marks between them to let him know when a new letter began. As far as you could tell he used cherry wood for his pieces of furniture, a big, black carpet in a corner underneath a small seating area, and some books placed on the table. Even his paperwork was stacked in order. Big glass windows allowed the evening sun to fall into the room, its warmness kissing your skin while you were seated in front of him, a big writing desk between the two of you, on it your work.

It was quiet for a short moment, before he leaned back in his chair, red eyes mustering you up and down which didn’t help at all. „What would you like to talk about first? Your assignment or the fact that you lied to me?“ Why was he so bothered by your lie? You knew plenty of students calling in sick every once in a while even though they aren’t. „I apologize for both of it. It shouldn’t have happened and I learned from my mistake,“ you were hoping that it would ease his anger a little bit but he seemed more worked up than usual. „Although I don’t understand why you are so angry at me for it? Plenty students lie-,“ „Yes, but they aren’t stupid enough to make it so obvious,“ he interrupted you. „I could care less about who’s missing my class, it’s their fault in the end if they decide learning is unnecessary. However you are one of my top students, I expected better from you. You could have excused yourself with no explanation. But you chose to add the feeble lie about being sick for what?“

You took in a deep breath, feeling as if another lie would be caught immediate, so you had no other choice but to tell him the real reason: „I heard the fight you had with the woman you were with, in the café, and I didn’t know how to react when I see you in your class,“ there was a small moment where he looked honestly confused before something clicked in his brain. „So it was you who I saw. What did you hear?“ „I can’t really rem-,“ „One more lie and I will lose my temper, don’t test me,“ shit, why was he turning you on so much right now. He’s your teacher for god’s sake and angry at you, this wasn’t the right time. „That she doesn’t agree with certain things in your private life,“ „Like?“ he knew you tried to talk around it, yet he wanted you to talk about, to see you embarrassed again, he liked that look on you. „The way you fuck,“ it was said before your brain could even comprehend the words, another apology laying at the tip of your tongue but his next question cut you off before you could say something else. „Why were you there in the first place? I’ve been there a few times and never saw you or any other student,“ he explained. „Because I live close by?“ It sounded more defiantly than you had wanted, causing your opponent to cock his eyebrow.

„I feel like you’re forgetting who’s the authority figure here,“ he walked up to his door, locking it before coming back. Now he was right in front of you, slightly sitting on his desk and the sleeves of his button-up shirt pushed up a little. „No sir, I’m sorry,“ „You see, the problem is, I don’t really believe you,“ with that he pulled you up, bodies pressed against each other, letting you feel his toned torso while the muscles in his arms flexed slightly.

„You lied to me once already, I think I have to teach you a lesson,“ everything happened so fast and you suddenly found yourself face down on his desk with his hand between your shoulder blades, the other one grabbing his wooden ruler. „If I recall correctly this is what you wanted right?“ His voice was low, slightly above a whisper as his upper body was pressed against your back while he pulled a few hair strands from your face. „Yes, but Professor I don’t think this is a good idea,“ your inner voice yelled at you, saying this was the best idea ever, angry that you possibly ruined your dreams coming true.

„Tell me to stop and I will do so immediately. Your choice. There will be no consequences if you worry about that,“ he reassured you, waiting for you to get up and run, but you didn’t and the current position allowed him to feel you clench your legs. „So?“ He asked again, the ruler in his hand basically burning with the anticipation of hitting your skin. „No, don't stop,“ you breathed, awaiting his next move.

„Good,“ with that he exposed your raised ass, your underwear the only thing between your bare skin and the wood that came down upon it, one foot raising in the air because of the sudden pain. „From now on if you say stop I won’t listen, you will tell me how you feel through colors. If it’s too much you tell me red and I will drop everything, understood?“ Another spank was delivered to the same spot.

„Yes,“ another one. You weren’t sure if he hit harder or if your skin turned more sensitive with every blow.

„It’s sir to you,“ you could feel him lunge out but shortly before the ruler came down he stoped, laughing slightly at your small jump.

„Yes sir,“ another one.

„You’re going to apologize every time my ruler paints your cute ass even redder, got it?“ You nodded your head, a moan escaping the back of your throat as he spanked you yet again.

„One more thing, be a good girl and stay quiet, wouldn’t wanna get caught now do we?“ He knew it was going to be torture for you to follow his order the more he continued and in a way he wanted you to fail. There was so much build-up inside of him and it appears that you were willing enough for him to use you as he pleased. That’s why you were his favorite. Bakugo knew what he was doing was wrong and he never expected to feel this way for one of his students but forbidden fruit tastes the best.

You stopped counting after the seventh blow, sorries, sirs and small whimpers fall from your lips as if they were your whole vocabulary. At one point you started crying, tears mixed with mascara running down your cheeks. He tried to remember something that turned him on more than the sight of your messed-up body with no luck. Everything build up inside of him, everything itching in his hands, the inner desires he had to soften for his ex, it all was going to come down on you. His thick girth twitched at the simple thought of finally being surrounded by your dripping wet cunt.

A warm soft hand rubbed over your bruised flesh while the other one found its way into your hair to pull you up to him, your back arched.

„What are you sorry for?“ Your mind was clouded with pleasure and pain, the only thought right now was the feeling of his dick print right between your sore cheeks. „I asked my little bitch a question, I expect you to fucking answer,“ this time he spanked you with his hand but it was just as intense as his ruler. „I don’t know,“ you breathed, a soft moan slipping out of you when his thumb barely circled your throbbing clit. „You’re just apologizing because you want me to use you?“ You could hear him chuckle lowly before he pushed your underwear to the side, his middle finger now playing with you. „Yes sir,“ Katsuki couldn’t hear a single ounce of shame in your voice and he wondered how long you had been thinking about him like this before.

„I never expected you to be such a dumb, cock hungry whore,“ The sound of his belt hitting the floor was dull like it was far away from you but at the same time, you felt him closer than before. Strong hands around your waist turned you around and once again he lifted your head with his finger underneath your chin, studying your ruined make-up as if he was memorizing every little detail he never wanted to forget. The blond, muscular man lifted you with ease, your behind getting a small moment of cooling as it hit his wooden desk.

Bakugo dried your tears slightly with his thumb, smearing it even more. „Only for you,“ you whispered and in that moment he couldn’t stop himself, he just had to kiss you. Not sweet and gentle, but passionately and hungry, like he was poisoned and your kiss was the antidote. The hand behind your head traveling to the front as you were laid down completely.

„If I had known before I would have fucked you so much sooner,“ with one hard thrust he was buried deep inside of you, one hand over your mouth because he knew you wouldn’t be able to keep quiet and the other one around your throat, squeezing shut and watching you struggle against it slightly. Your professor was thicker than what you were used to and you didn’t know how good it would feel until now. With the first few snaps of his hips, you knew you never wanted to feel something else anymore.

Your hands went to his arms and you tugged on them, causing him to let go as the blood found its way back to your brain. „Color?“ he asked, afraid you weren’t able to handle him. „Green,“ was all you could get out before another moan cut off your ability to talk.

„Good girl,“ he whispered into your ear, kissing down from your earlobe to your shoulder before sucking on a rather sensitive spot. Both of your wrists were held over your head with his left hand, with the explanation that he doesn’t appreciate being stopped while using you however he pleased. The right hand was going from between your chest after he admired your bouncing tits thoroughly, to your stomach to connect with your most sensitive bundle of nerves. Bakugo switched from circles to eights, from fast to slow, but the harshness of his hips never haltered.

„I know you wanna scream right now, but I can’t allow that. Can’t let others hear what a dirty slut you are for me right now. I promise I will fuck you in my house if you behave now. You can moan my name as much as you want. Or maybe I will gag you, watch you drool all over yourself. Maybe I will tie you up and edge you for an hour straight until you’re begging me to fuck you, you like the sound of that, huh? I can feel you squeezing around me,“ another chuckle left his plump lips as he watched you struggle to stay up on your feet.

„Maybe I will let you choke on my dick while I work on something for the next lesson. Gonna use you as my little cum dump. Let you think about it again when I talk about it in front of the whole class. Do-,“ you were so close when a sudden knock on the door startled you both, but he never once stopped what he was doing, if anything he went even harder, whispering into your ear to be quiet for him.

„Hey Kat, your ex is outside and says she wants to talk, want me to send her in?“ It was the psychologist professor Shinso, his voice as done and deep as usual. „No, I’m occupied,“ Bakugo saw your mouth open after you fought so hard against it, he couldn’t let you moan, not right now. He did the first thing he could think of, spitting into it and watching you swallow. Oh, he would definitely film you do this with his cum covering you everywhere and the thought brought him slightly closer to his release. „Still grading papers huh? I don’t get where you got all of that energy from,“ his voice was blurred out by Bakugo whispering into your ear. „Do you want me to tell you what we're doing right now? Let him know I’m fucking my little toy stupid right now?“ And while you were shaking your head no it was the last straw for you and you found yourself grabbing his hand to put over your mouth, biting your lips until you tasted blood to muffle the scream you couldn’t stop. Bakugo cursed under his breath when he could feel you throbbing around his dick and your nails digging into his arm. „Tell her to leave me the fuck alone, she’s already forgotten,“ his voice sounded strained and you knew he was close as well. „Ah, I see. Well then have fun,“ his laugh was fading away the further he went.

„Can’t believe that made you cum, you’re even more perfect than I thought, such a dirty girl, tsk,“ both his hands are on your hips and he pulled your body against him with every thrust. You were still coming down from your orgasm when you felt his thrusts turning sloppy before he stopped completely, his dick now pulsing while he was holding you tightly. Breath uneven and getting stable on his feet again he turned you around, careful so he wouldn’t hurt you.

„Next time I gonna make sure you can’t walk but right now I need you to be able to leave the building,“ he pulled his pants back up and added: „Sadly,“ before walking around his desk.

It was still hard for you to stand so you sat down, wincing as the usually soft cushion now felt like thousand of tiny spikes on your bruised ass. Before you pull your bottoms up again he grabbed your wrist and pulled you up, once again with a stern expression on his face you were so familiar with.

„I apparently really fucked you stupid if you think I let you leave like this,“ having him put cooling cream on your bare bum felt more intimate than having him be balls deep inside you. „Sorry I just thought-,“ „Well, you thought wrong. I don’t know what kind of boys you had in the past but now that you have me there are going to be changes, got that?“

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astaroth1357 · 4 years

Text

Brothers React to the MC Looking at Them Lovingly

This is a personal experiment. This is the very first time I've written one of these with a goal in mind, "Make them fall in love all over again." It's a tall order. I hope I succeeded. 🙏 Special thanks to @a-chaotic-dumbass for picking the mood for this one!

Intro:

We all know that look. The one where one person stares at another like they just realized they're the only thing in the universe and they're in fucking awe of it. The kind of look that tells you they're utterly enthralled by that other person and just can't get enough of their presence. That look. Yeah, the brothers just got that look out of the MC.

Let's warm some cold hearts, everybody.

Lucifer

Lucifer was always beautiful. Always has been, as an angel or a demon.

A morning star is one that outshines all the rest. It stands out when the other stars have dimmed, holding onto its luster in defiance of the sun.

There couldn't be a truer title for Lucifer to have. Not the horrors of war nor the fires of Hell could tarnish his radiance in any way…

But there were moments, like right then, where the MC caught a glimpse of a different sort of Lucifer.

His brothers would often only see the uptight Lucifer, the practiced visage of perfection that he tried so hard to keep up…

But after a long day, when he thinks he's alone, he retires to his room to listen to his music and the difference is astonishing.

There's something so entrancingly calm about him… How the light of the fireplace flickers and dances across his alabaster skin to the subtle slouch of his posture. His face no longer marred by creases of stress and frustration…

And his expression is so pure… So tranquil and at peace… Beauty without effort. A shine that can't be ignored. A morning star, in the truest sense of the word…

It took awhile for Lucifer to see the MC leaning against his doorframe.

They were staring at him with the oddest look… Smiling like they were enraptured by something, but he didn't have a clue why. He was just sitting there…

So, naturally, he turned to suspicion.

"Am I really that amusing…?"

Frankly, he wasn’t prepared for the little laugh they let out in response.

"Mm? No, no... I'm just always so amazed by you, is all. I'll leave you to your music..."

Having thoroughly ruined the mood, the MC then turned to leave. But Lucifer was already upon them before they could step away, wrapping his arms around their waist and letting contented hum escape his chest.

"Going so soon…?"

Apparently he appreciated the compliment.

Mammon

He didn't have to do it.

When Belphie bumped into one of the House's vases, shattering it against the tile, he didn’t have to take the fall for it.

It wasn’t connected to him at all. He could have stayed quiet and no one would have pointed a finger at him for once.

But he did.

When Mammon set his phone down on the table, MC knew instantly that he had lied in the chat.

He was with them the entire day, he didn't have the time to accidentally break a vase. He hadn't even gone down that hallway all day...

But he said something anyway.

And he didn't even look fazed. He didn't turn towards them seeking approval nor did he look irritated that Belphie didn't speak up. He didn't curse at himself for doing something so self-sacrificing either...

When Mammon leaned back into the cushion of his couch, the MC saw something truly remarkable on his face… A smile. A small one, sure, but relaxed…

Assured in his own actions. Confident in his choice and accepting the consequences… undeserved, and likely thankless, they may be.

A genuine, serene smile…

Mammon wasn't sure what he expected to see when he turned to the MC. Probably confusion or disbelief that he, the Great Mammon, could be so selfless.

Definitely not the awed, lovestruck look he got...

"G-gah!" He panicked slightly and pressed himself back against the armrest of the couch in shock. "Wh-... What'cha lookin at me like that for??"

When the MC didn't answer after a few seconds and just kept staring, he honestly didn't know what to do. Were they broken or something??

"Oi, MC! I asked ya wh-Hey wait a minute!!"

He made a noise between a yelp and a shout when the MC leapt forward and latched their arms onto him. What had gotten into them??

"U-uh… MC? MC?? Damnit MC, answer me already!! Or at least stop squeezin so tight!!... MC!!!"

Leviathan

To anyone else, it was just Levi being Levi.

He had finished a new episode of his latest animated obsession and he had to share it with someone. Anyone would do, but the MC was always willing to lend an ear.

Something about Levi really changes when he talks about his passions… It's like he comes alive in a whole new way.

He speaks at a mile-a-minute, but that's because he's so excited the words fly from his mouth.

Some part of him is always bouncing, be it his leg or body. Sometimes even his tail will swish and curl behind him like an ecstatic puppy. And his eyes…

Citrine pools that glimmer and dilate from the exhilaration of it all. It's his little world and anyone can see he's thrilled to be sharing it.

You'd never know he was shy. You'd never think he'd look down himself. You'd never guess that he hid himself away… Why would someone so full of passion and life ever want to? Some things are just too beautiful to keep hidden...

Levi had only gotten six minutes into his latest rant before he finally registered how the MC was staring at him…

This man has seen enough shoujo to know what that look means and it shut him up sooo quick. If anyone else were in the room they would have seen a beet-red Levi desperately trying to hide his face.

"M-MC…! S-top staring at me like that…!!"

"Like what~?"

He didn't have to look at them to hear the teasing lilt in their voice.

"MC…" He peeked out from behind his fingers to see them still staring and covered himself up more vigorously. "Stoooop…!!!"

But secretly? He wished they'd never stop. His cheeks may have been red from embarrassment, but his heart was trying to hammer its way out of his chest to hug them itself. Hell, he'd have happily given it over to them if they'd asked…

Please just let those loving eyes be for him and him alone...

Satan

Soft isn't exactly a word anybody would use to describe Satan, least of all himself.

His anger was quick to spark, his strength was nothing to scoff at, and even his smiles were nothing but plastic for nearly all of his existence…

Nearly.

The MC learned surprisingly quick that there was one thing that could bypass all of the hidden ferocity to Satan's personality. Something that could make him melt like butter in the summer sun…

Satan had always looked a little cute when he was reading. He was easily at his most expressive when engrossed in a thrilling story or deeply intrigued by something he found between the pages of a book…

But watching Satan read about cats, as he was right then, was really something else entirely.

Maybe it was the way his emerald eyes would sparkle or the lopsided grin he just couldn't hide as he would scan the pages about the playful habits of Bengals or the relaxed nature of Ragdolls…

Maybe it was the sheer impassioned dedication he took the subject, pouring countless hours into collecting and memorizing every fact he could from their diets to coat maintenance.

Or maybe it was the sheer fact that anytime he saw a picture of kitty in-print he looked like a besotted schoolgirl drawing hearts around her crush in a teen magazine.

Really, who's to say? But to the MC, it was proof that under all that anger, there was a tender, loving center even for the smallest, softest creatures…

Satan automatically snapped his book closed when he saw MC watching him from behind a bookshelves. Caught red-handed…

He knows exactly how he looks when he's doing his research internally squealing over cat pictures so he tries to do so in private...

He was about to sputter out a defensive explanation but then he registered their face…

He'd seen that look described in stories, romance novels mostly, but he'd rarely seen it in action… and never once leveled at him with such intensity…

Not to be cliche, but frankly his heart skipped a beat.

Satan forgot about his book briefly and got up to close the distance between them, tilting their chin up to keep their eyes on him.

"Like something that you see, Kitten?"

"You could say that…"

He laughed at their attempt to play coy, but let it slide just this once… Easy to do with them looking at him so amorously.

Asmodeus

Asmo is a very popular demon. Someone so free ought to know quite a lot of people, after all.

And, of course, he had plenty of fans. He made DevilTube videos, hosted radio shows, fashion designed, and even modeled.

So it wasn't very surprising when a young demoness stopped him while he and the MC were out shopping. It wasn’t the first time he had been asked to sign autographs, but this meeting… it was different.

It was clear to them both that this girl was shy. Though she held out the paper, her eyes stayed firmly on the ground and she stumbled on her question… She likely a fan from afar, but everything about her seemed meek… unassuming.

Most people would have just gave the autograph then went on with their day. The interaction could have taken five seconds at most… but not Asmo.

He asked her name… where she was from, how she was feeling, her favorite foods, outfits, makeup, you name it. All with investment.

It was amazing to watch the shy young woman slowly open up, getting more bright and cheerful with each passing question until it evolved into a healthy conversation.

When their little meeting finally wrapped up, he gave her back the paper (now signed) but also fished out a bottle of perfume from among the mountains of bags he was carrying. He gave it to her and wouldn't hear anything to the contrary, he could always buy another.

None of his brothers ever gave Asmo enough credit for his giving nature… even if he had his own way of going about it. Though he cared so much about image and his ability to shine, he never hesitated to make sure that the people around him shined too...

Asmo waved to the fan as she scampered away and was about to apologize to the MC when he saw their face…

The man knows this look well. He's seen it a billion times, though it was particularly cute coming from them.

"Awww MC! Taken by my beauty are you~?"

He was about ready to kiss their cheek when they responded.

"No, not your looks, Asmo… with you."

… Oh.

It was very rare to see Asmo speechless, but for a few seconds his mind seemed to take in their words… letting them fully sink in before his heart utterly melting.

Oh MC… His sweet MC!!

Asmo ended up dropping the rest of his bags just so he could properly litter his human in nuzzles and kisses, the both of them humming and giggling in delight despite their shameless PDA.

Of course it would be his MC to see that part in himself… Who else would take the time?

Beelzebub

Food is a precious resource to Beel. For him, it's a lifeline. A good meal could save him from the brink of starvation…

But that still doesn't make him incapable of sharing from time to time.

He and the MC were walking back to the House after getting takeout from Hell's Kitchen. Beel hadn't even waited until they left the restaurant to start eating his share, spilling the smell of fresh food into the air around them…

Things were going fine on their route back until they heard whimpering behind them…

A hellhound puppy, not quite old enough to bear its fangs, seemingly followed them as they were walking… It looked like it had been out for some time and eyed their food with hungry eyes, but weak posture. Who knows when it last had a meal?

The MC was about to tug at Beel's sleeve and say something, but their demon was ahead of them this time.

A casual observer might have gawked at the sight of Gluttony kneeling down to offer such a lowly creature a sandwich. But the MC knew better. When you spend your whole life hungry, nobody more than you understands that kind of pain in someone else.

This reaction wasn't out of character for Beel, it was elementary.

And when the puppy finished its meal and covered Beel's cheeks with appreciative licks, he just laughed and scratched behind its ears. Amethyst eyes looking more relieved at its health than disappointed he lost some of his lunch...

Food was Beel's lifeline, but kindness is what made him who he was…

When the pup finally scampered off, Beel looked over at the MC to tell them it'd be alright and saw their face…

He wasn't really sure what they were staring at… Did he have something between his teeth again?

"MC? Are you okay...?"

They laughed at him for some reason but pulled him in for a hug so they must have meant well.

"You're so sweet, Beel…"

Beel's never one to refuse a compliment so he just hugged them back, beaming.

"Thank you, MC…"

Belphegor

To say that Belphegor tended to be on the melancholic side would be an understatement… It wasn’t that he was incapable of expressing joy, it was just harder for him to do than most. Not helped, of course, by his tendency to keep his true feelings vague and hard to pinpoint.

But on those rare occasions where he was overjoyed… Belphie could really be something special…

The MC and Belphie were attending one of Beel's games and it was a tight one… Both teams had spent most of it tied and Beel's team was running out of time to overtake that slim margin.

Belphie had always been a supporter of his twin's athletics, but this time it was tense even for him. He kept on the edge of his seat and didn't even nod off during the breaks like he normally would… The MC could just tell how nervous he was for Beel…

But right as the time was about to run out, Beel made a last minute score and sure, the whole field erupted, but Belphie? Belphie hollered.

The normally sleepy and mellow demon was on his feet in an instant and practically shredding his vocal chords in excitement. If his tail had been out, it would have been beating against the bleachers like a war-drum. And his expression?

Belphie's smile is said to stop hearts for a reason. When he puts his all into a grin it's almost like he ascends to Heaven once more, as pure as an angel's choir and as warm as a summer's breeze… Nothing in his eyes but pride and adoration for his beloved twin brother.

Truly, a heartwarming sight to behold…

Belphie didn't calm down until the rest of the crowd settled and was about to point out Beel's skill to the MC when he noticed their face.

… oh no… Why do they look so sappy…?

"You really love your brother, don't you?"

Belphie quickly hid his thoughts behind an irritated frown and plopped back down in his seat… but that didn't shield them from seeing his pink cheeks.

"Of course I do. What kind of question is that?"

He debated just joining Beel on the field to hide his embarrassment when he heard them snicker back.

"Yeah, you're right… Don't mind me."

Oh he minded. He minded a lot that he let his carefully veiled image slip like that. But thinking back to that smile on their face…?

Maybe being a little open wasn't so bad after all...

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me hc #obey me scenarios

5K notes · View notes

courseoflove · 3 years

Text

Questions

You have lots of questions for Harry and he tries his best to answer each of them.

a/n: hiiiii, think it’s been almost a year since I last posted my writing and I’m finally back! thanks to @oh-honey-styles‘s new fic slam prompts, I was able to curate something I liked enough to share. usually it’d take me lotssss of drafts to be satisfied and happy with something but this one only took 2! I hope you enjoy it and pleaaaaseee be kind ⭐️😸 I’d love to hear your thoughts!

warning: this is just pureee filth. not really smut, but filthy regardless.

Word Count: 1,775

Harry’s forest eyes ogle straight at you, lips pressed in a tight line and twitching on one side to form a smirk that he tried his very best not to show.

That was definitely the last thing he expected to come out of your mouth. He thought you just needed help with something minuscule, like putting together new furniture, fixing the wifi, or help pick out an outfit; things you’ve urgently called him about before. He never, ever thought you’d call him one day and ask for this, a lesson on blowjobs out of all things.

Luckily, sex has never been a taboo topic between the two of you, considering he’s the first person you yell to when you’re letting out your frustrations about your lack of experiences, or vice versa when he just had an intercourse dilemma that continues to leave an everlasting impact on him. But when you’re asking him about giving good oral pleasure, his brain is suddenly void of any thoughts that should help the situation at hand.

“Quit smirking at me, I’m serious!” Harry flinches when you throw a pillow at him from across the other side of the sofa, instantly wiping the smirk off of his face and instead letting out a soft chuckle when he successfully catches it. You throw him an intense yet jest glare, “just. Today at work. I dunno. I just need to know. I want to know.”

“How d’you suppose I do that?” he asks cautiously, leaning forward to settle his elbows on his knees and prop his chin up with the palm of his hand, “teach you, I mean.”

You’re usually never embarrassed around Harry, despite the many weird and unusual conversations you’ve both had during sobriety and drunkenness. You don’t remember ever feeling even the slightest bit awkward or sheepish when you told him about how IUDs work, or giving him a very vivid description of how exactly you feel during your menstruation cycle. He takes it all in and listens with amusement, sometimes with a bowl of extra-buttered popcorn on his lap.

But right now, in this exact moment, you feel slightly skittish and jittery, as if blowjobs were something you’re just now learning about. He can sense it, especially with the way you’re averting your gaze from his eyes to the silent flatscreen tv nailed on your wall — thanks to him. You’re also doing that thing he constantly scolds you for whenever you’re anxious and nervous, chewing ferociously on your bottom lip and squeezing your fingers into a fist to the point your nails will sink on your palm and pop your veins.

“Stop that, you’ll bleed,” he cuts the silence off, “and answer my question.”

You unclench your fist and turn towards him again, barely making eye contact and instead looking at the lovely framed painting hung on the wall behind him, “maybe just describe it?”

“It’s really not that complicated,” was all Harry said. He leans back against your soft couch, taking both of your feet with his hands and settling them on his lap to crack each of your toes. You flinch a little on his first try, turning your focus and watching his fingers work against your skin, “think of a lollipop. Or popsicles, something of the sorts. You put it in your mouth and just… suck. Lick. Move your mouth, without the teeth.”

Suck. Lick. Move your mouth; the words that tumbles out of his lips causes you to flush, your whole body heating up and turning beet red, the color dancing across your nose and emphasizing your imperfections flawlessly.

What Harry said was pretty accurate. It’s not as detailed as you want but you don’t really know how to ask for that without feeling mortified and even more flustered. He said it exactly how it is; you just put your mouth around it, suction your cheeks, use your tongue and bob your head. But you feel like there was something missing, as if there should be more to that. Well, because there is. You want to know more.

His fingers have started to dance their way to your calf, squeezing the deep tissues there in a tender and leisure massage to try and get rid of your tensed muscles. You’re wincing in between syllables when you finally speak after a couple of seconds, “question. It might be weird. Just… just tell me if you don’t wanna answer.”

His eyes lock with yours when he hums for you to continue, a strand of curl falling over his forehead and tickling his brow while his bottom lip gets caught in between his teeth in concentration. He presses his warm hands on your leg forcefully and harder and it helps calm your nerves and neurons, your habit of overthinking in situations like this disappearing little by little the more he moves. The lack of poise you had minutes ago is lessening and your question is on the tip of your tongue, ready to burst at the seams and be voiced aloud.

With your face turning a lot redder and goosebumps developing on your skin from head to toe out of the blue, you ask with your voice a little lower than it was a while ago, “will you tell me what you like? When.. you know.”

Harry’s movements quickly halt. Another unexpected turn. Another question he never, ever thought would come out of your mouth to ask him.

He lets go of his lip and keeps his mouth agape, irises instantaneously dilating and darkening under your lemon-yellow light and turning them into an even darker shade, like a week old leaf. His brain performs a short circuit for a few moments that passes by in silence before he finally swallows and says, “you want to know what I like when I’m getting head?”

“Yeah,” you shrug, feeling even more ridiculous the more you look into his eyes and open your mouth, “I mean, you have the most experience out of the two of us. That’s why I asked in the first place, but I feel — I feel like your first answer doesn’t really — it’s just not satisfying me. There has to be more to it than just.. sucking, I dunno.”

Sure, you talk to one another about sex casually; what one undergos and encounters and what the other simply has no preconceived notions of. Harry would tell his stories in the least disgusting way possible, knowing you’ll groan out loud and tease him about it if he gives away any sort of detail, but there was almost always zero utterance on your end. No lingering and continuous curiosity. You asking about what he likes when he’s getting head is very much unforeseen and maybe even a bit… amiss, especially for you.

However, he can detect a genuine inquisitiveness in your expression. You’re probably one of the hardest people to read on the surface, but he senses that there was more to that interest than just simply wanting to know. At least, he’s hoping there is.

You cross your arms over your chest, feeling a bit weird now the more he gawks at you and doesn’t make a single move to respond. You open your mouth to backtrack when his hesitancy becomes clear, but before you can even take your question back, he’s already mouthing a three-syllable word out loud, “mouth-fucking.”

A low gasp leaves your mouth and the sound doesn’t miss Harry’s eardrums. He should want to take it back, shove the words back in his throat and never say it again despite not being able to. Still and all, he realizes that he likes what you asked and the fact he gave you an answer, a brief one but an honest and precise answer nonetheless. The way your skin warms against the palm of his hands makes him start to sweat, your bare face becoming even more flushed if possible. You don’t really know what kind of answer your mind presumed, but it obviously wasn’t that.

You’re aware of Harry’s self-confidence and boldness when it comes to sex. He has lots of it and it doesn’t come as a surprise. So when he opens his mouth again to explain exactly what he meant, you were able to hold your second gasp back and instead listen in. You can just imagine how filthy he is in bed, considering the description he gives you seems to be even more graphic and explicit, “like normal sex, but I’m doing it to their mouth. I like the sound, the sloppiness of it all, it fuels me. I like being in control, I guess, and no one wants a dry blowjob. I like it really wet.”

You startle both yourself and him when you utter, “what else?”

Harry clears his throat and looks away from your eyes, not because of discomfort because there was absolutely none, but for the reason that the more he stares the more he pictures you inside his head doing exactly what he was evoking. He blinks a couple of times in an attempt to get rid of the colorful conception, yet it just becomes even more lucid and clear-cut. He tries to distract himself by continuing to answer your questions. It definitely doesn’t help. It just drags the mental image on.

“I like it when they let me come down their throat, then swallow it. Or when — when the aftermath of pure bliss just overtakes my entire body. Like, they just pull away for a second then suck me right back in,” the skin on your legs feel sticky under his hold. You swallow at his dazed appearance and tiny smirk, as if he’s picturing it all in his head. And he is, “yeah. I like that a lot.”

Somehow it’s gotten a lot warmer inside the tiny space of your living room, every corner closing in on the two of you in your peripheral vision and you can’t exactly make out the tingling sensation on the tip of your fingers and in between your thighs. Well, you do. You know you’re undoubtedly turned on but acting clueless and ignoring it would be the best way to handle it.

You ask him one more question, the last one you’ll emit for the rest of the evening, “and how was it for them?”

Harry turns his head, connecting his darkened eyes with yours. There’s an indecipherable message written all over his handsome face. His voice is heavy, raspier and deeper with his accent when he answers for the last time, a specific implication behind his tone, “one of these days, you’ll see.”

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