#but i have to pair it with my intimate knowledge of what goes on in capitalist entertainment

[firehose118]

in sickness

for @bucktommypositivityweek - predict the future

Buck is rooting through their sock drawer when he finds it.

He’s looking for a particular pair of socks: wool, blue and grey striped, soft and warm. They’re the ones that Tommy likes to wear when he’s sick, and right now he is sick. It’s nothing life-threatening, but Tommy is miserable. He hasn’t been able to breathe out of his nose for two days now, his nostrils have been rubbed raw by tissue after tissue, and he’s still shivering under three blankets.

When Buck shoves aside several identical pairs of white socks and sees the little box, he’s confused; almost a little panicked. This isn’t where he hid it. He could have sworn it was still in his locker at work. How did it get here? How did it get to the house, first of all, and how did it end up on Tommy’s side of their sock drawer? Oh god, did Tommy already see it? There goes the surprise.

And then Buck realizes that this is a different box than the one that houses the ring he bought for Tommy. It’s a different color, texture, and it’s from a different store. That means Tommy bought this. Tommy bought a ring. Tommy bought a ring.

Tommy wants to get married. Tommy wants to keep Buck forever. It’s not a surprise—they’ve talked about it, and Tommy has been more than clear that he’s in this relationship for the longhaul; more than clear that he’s deeply in love with Buck and their life together—but it makes Buck’s heart flutter just the same. Tommy is ready to make the commitment.

Buck must have been still and silent for too long, because Tommy raises his head from where he’d been buried under the covers and looks in Buck’s direction.

“Did you find them?” Tommy asks, his voice scratchy and stuffy.

There’s no point in pretending like he didn’t find the ring. This is all he’s going to be able to think about now, and he’s terrible at hiding his thoughts. Tommy would sniff it out in a moment, even this sick.

“Uh,” Buck says, a massive smile taking over his face. “I- I found something.” He holds up the little box.

Tommy looks confused for a moment and then his eyes go wide. “Oh. You weren’t supposed to- I had a plan.” His head hits the pillow with a groan.

Buck walks over to the bed, still smiling, and kneels on the floor by Tommy. “Oh, you had a plan, huh?”

“Yeah,” Tommy sighs. His frown is earnest and adorable. “Big romantic thing. Helicopter and a picnic at sunset. You were gonna love it.”

That does sound like something Buck would love. It’s thoughtful, sweet, intimate—fun. It’s so much better than anything Buck has been able to come up with. Buck has been making and scrapping plans for two months now because they weren’t perfect. Tommy’s plan was perfect.

Still, Buck can’t let Tommy think he was the only one ready for the next step. Who knows how long Tommy has had that ring. Has he been waiting for a sign that Buck was ready? He’s been so good about letting Buck set the pace of this relationship. This would have been the first step that Tommy asked Buck to take since their first kiss, first date. Buck wants Tommy to know he’s ready. They’re moving at the same pace, and Buck thinks that’s a beautiful thing. Well worth ruining the surprise over.

“And what if I told you I bought a ring too?” Buck bites his lip.

“Yeah?” Tommy asks, his face lighting up. He tries to sit up but Buck stops him with a hand on his chest, rubbing it back and forth soothingly.

“Yeah. But I hid it somewhere you wouldn’t find it. Not in one of our shared spaces,” Buck teases. “Babe, I wear your clothes all the time.”

Tommy’s eyebrows pull together stubbornly. “Never my socks, though. You hate my socks.”

Buck has never said that out loud but it’s true. He’s a little overwhelmed by the casual intimacy that knowledge betrays. Tommy knows him so well. Tommy pays attention to him so well, and he seems happy to. It’s all Buck has ever wanted. Finally, Buck has the kind of love he’s spent his entire life searching for. He’s never been more sure that Tommy is it for him.

“I do,” Buck says. He sounds utterly besotted even to his own ears. “Your socks are terrible. The toe seams are too thick.”

“I’ve never once noticed the toe seam,” Tommy laughs, equally as besotted. Like the way Buck sees the world is charming and beautiful to him instead of frustrating and in need of correction.

“I have a hard time believing that.” Buck hands Tommy the ring box. “I’ll put this back and wait for your big romantic proposal if you want. The answer will be the same.”

Before he can respond, Tommy sneezes. Buck hands him a fresh tissue from the box on the nightstand. Tommy takes it and looks at Buck consideringly. He smiles fondly and shakes his head.

“No need to wait. Honestly, I think this might be more romantic.” Tommy gestures with the tissue. “In sickness and in health, right?”

The wet sound of him blowing his nose makes it very clear which side of that dichotomy he’s on at the moment.

“That’s right,” Buck smiles.

Tommy smiles back. He’s glassy-eyed and red-nosed, his hair is wild, and his stubble is scruffier than he usually lets it get. Still, in this moment, he’s the most handsome man Buck has ever seen.

Tommy’s hands shake a little as he opens the box. The ring is beautiful: simple gold, wide and rounded, understated and elegant. Timeless. It’s perfect.

“Evan Buckley,” Tommy starts, voice scratchy and congested. He gives Buck a pained look and sighs. “I had a whole speech planned for this, but my brain is so fucking foggy right now I can’t remember it all.” They both laugh. “But I know why I love you, so I’ll start there. You’re kind, and brave, and smart. You keep me on my toes and you make me laugh. You make me feel safe. I don’t think I’ve ever felt held the way I do with your arms around me. You love with your whole heart, and I feel so lucky that someone as incredible as you chose me. You’re the best partner anyone could ask for. Every day with you is better than the last. There were so many times over the years when we almost met that it’s kind of insane we didn’t, but I’m glad it took us so long. You know I don’t really believe in this stuff most of the time, but I think we met when we did for a reason. We weren’t ready for each other before that hurricane. But I’m ready for you now, and I hope you’re ready for me, too. I love you more than I could ever hope to put into words. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?”

“Please,” Buck says breathlessly. Tommy’s laugh is filled with affection as Buck hurries to correct himself. “I- I mean of course, yes. Yes, I- I will marry you.”

The tears are coming now. Even through the brainfog that comes with a cold like this, Tommy was able to pull that off. If that wasn’t the rehearsed speech, Buck doesn’t think he would have survived the real one. It makes Buck’s general you flipped my life rightside-up and now I see the world in color and I’ll love you forever feel a little inadequate. He needs to organize his thoughts a little better before he can present them to Tommy.

“I- I have a speech too,” Buck assures him, “but it’s not ready yet.”

“That’s okay,” Tommy says easily. He’s looking at Buck with such naked adoration that it makes Buck’s heart soar. “Neither of us were expecting this today. Give it to me when you give me my ring.”

Buck nods and sniffles. “I will.”

Tommy reaches for him. “Can I have your hand, sweetheart?”

Buck gives Tommy his hand and Tommy slides the ring onto his finger. It fits perfectly. It looks like it’s always been there.

Illness be damned, Buck has to kiss him. They’re long past the point of caring about getting each other’s germs. Tommy’s lips are chapped from days of breathing through his mouth, he tastes stale, and his skin is hot and clammy. It’s one of the best kisses Buck has ever had.

They pull back when Tommy needs to breathe. Buck doesn’t go far. He runs a hand through Tommy’s hair and just admires him. Even like this, he’s gorgeous. Buck is so lucky. This is the person who looked at Buck and saw him for who he is—who looked at Buck and saw Evan. This is the person who has had a front-row seat to all of his flaws and insecurities and bad habits and found something to love about all of them. This is the person who doesn’t love him anyway but loves him because—who loves his jealousy because it makes him feel wanted, loves his clinginess because it makes him feel held, loves his tendency to speak without thinking because it’s honest. This is the person who never makes him feel insecure about wanting or needing anything; about who he is. This is the person he’s going to spend the rest of his life with. His fiancé. His soon-to-be husband. His-

“Baby, can I please have my socks?” Tommy asks in a small voice.

“Oh!” Buck had gotten so sidetracked by the whole proposal thing that he forgot why he was looking through Tommy’s side of the sock drawer in the first place. Buck presses a quick kiss to Tommy’s forehead and jumps up. “Of course, I’m sorry.”

Buck goes back to their dresser. The wool socks are right on top. He doesn’t know how he missed them before. It feels like a sign, like he was supposed to find the ring first.

It feels like the universe saw how stressed he’s been about getting the proposal exactly perfect and decided this was the right way for them to get engaged. No big plans, no rehearsed speeches, no theatrics. Just love and care and the simple intimacy of this life they’ve made together: messy and raw and gross. It’s so imperfect that it’s kind of perfect. It’s them.

This is why none of Buck’s plans had felt right. He’d been so focused on making things perfect and exciting for Tommy that he’d lost sight of what really mattered. The strength of their relationship isn’t in the big, dramatic moments. Sure, they met during a hurricane, but they built their relationship in the quiet, imperfect, domestic moments as they learned how to take care of each other. Their relationship isn’t a fantasy: it’s reality. It works precisely because it’s imperfect and they both want it anyway—because they are imperfect and they both still want each other.

Buck puts the socks on Tommy’s feet for him, then he lays under the covers next to him. He pulls Tommy to snuggle into his chest. Tommy is still sniffly and clammy and, objectively, pretty disgusting. Buck pulls him closer.

Soon, Tommy drifts off. He snores in the loud, startling way he only does when he’s congested. Buck feels lucky to hear it. He runs his hand through Tommy’s hair and feels his ring catch on the strands. Happy, content, at ease; Buck settles in.

{give me kudos!}

[goldsainz]

❝ NSFW ALPHABET ❞

MASTERLIST!

pairing . . . aemond targaryen x reader

◦∘｡ﾟ. warnings . . . MINORS DNI! smut (unprotected sex, slight sub/dom dynamics, voyeurism, mummy kink (but not really), cum play, rough fucking), lewd language, slight mention of aemond’s first visit to the brothel, touch-starved aemond, barely proofread.

◦∘｡ﾟ. summary . . . aemond’s behaviour in the bedroom.

◦∘｡ﾟ. note . . . ignore that the man in the picture has dark hair, it’s hard finding good quality aesthetic pictures😔 requests are open for aemond (he’s a bad man but he’s my man okay… like i respect a good villain i’m sorry) (but also hate him cause why you beefing with lucerys and rhaenys…). anyway, happy reading i hope you all enjoy this!

[ word count: 2,6k ]

A — AFTERCARE . . . what they're like after sex!

Aemond doesn’t really know what aftercare truly entails, he learns how to be better at it with you. He will clean you if a mess is made, can run a bath if necessary, and then lay down with you. It takes time for him to cuddle, but eventually he caves in. He may not say it but he craves that affection and security by knowing you're so close to him. 

B — BODY PART . . . their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner's!

THEIRS . . . His torso. It might be a weird thing to love about himself , but he most loves it because you cling around his waist and place your head against his chest. He is incredibly toned, just a mass of hard muscle but he can see the comfort you find in it. Another thing he loves is seeing the marks you leave on him, he’s prouder of those than any scar he receives while battling.

YOURS . . . He adores your tits. Adores watching the way they move when you’re breathing in those tight dresses you always complain about, he also adores resting his head on them and seeking comfort in the soft flesh. Aemond peppers kisses on them so much you have to resort to wearing high-neck dresses to hide the marks, which in turn means getting even more because your husband cannot control himself. 

C — CUM . . . anything to do with cum, basically!

This man is messy. He does not care where he cums, whether it's your face and chest when you suck him off or deep inside you, he’s a mess. You need to clean yourself thoroughly after being with him because he leaves you covered in it. He knows he could be more controlled with it, but something about you being sticky from his cum makes him feral and thus he cannot be any other way. He likes to takes his hand and spread over your body, placing his cum-covered hand and placing it between your lips and has you suck on them.

D — DIRTY SECRET . . . pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs!

Aemond wants to fuck you with an audience. He craves staking his claim over you for all the realms to see, to have the world see but never know how good you feel. Have you moan his name, make you desperate for him, while the others boil with envy at the connection the two of you have. Though, as much as the imagery makes him hard, he is far too possessive to ever really dare do it. 

E — EXPERIENCE . . . how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?

He has little to no experience. Aegon dragged him to a brothel once, but he didn't learn much from and rather steered away from that world. Still, Aemond loves to learn and study so he gathered whatever knowledge he could from books and then put them into practice when he married you. He learned all the little things that made you squirm, how to get certain noises from you, and how to take care of you. With time, he became an expert and you were always left more than satisfied from your activities. 

F — FAVOURITE POSITION . . . this goes without saying!

Mating press is his preferred position. He gets everything he wants from it, the intimacy from being able to see you and the dominance of having you pressed against him, willing to take whatever he gives you. The skin-to-skin contact, the intimate eye-contact and deep penetration makes him adore this position. It is raw and primal, all the things Aemond longs for when being intimate. 

G — GOOFY . . . are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.

Aemond prefers it to be a serious moment. He finds that passion is what's most important during the act, with him willing you to submit to him while he takes charge. If something humorous occurs he won't be deterred by it, most likely indulging in what happened and slowly bringing the mood back into a more serious atmosphere. Truthfully, he’s not a person to joke around much and the bedroom will not be the place to start doing so. 

H — HAIR . . . how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.

Probably as well groomed as the times allow him to be. He finds it to be more comfortable, to be finely polished all-around, he’s a bit of a perfectionist and any thing that is not up to measure he detest. Have you seen how beautiful his locks are? That does not end in just the hair on his head. As for the carpet matching the drapes, his hair is that beautiful silver shade of white all over. 

I — INTIMACY . . . how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect.

He wants to be romantic, but he resorts to small shows of affection. He is deeply passionate but it does not come from a romantic place, more so an urge to claim you. In his head he wishes to be more romantic, to show his love for you in the sheets, but since he does not know how to properly do so he refrains from trying. Not that you seem to mind, you also lean into the more primitive ways he fucks you, rough and senselessly. Intimacy is displayed by the way he holds you, the eye contact you make (eyepatch off, he trusts you so he is totally bare), and the deep kisses he gives you.

J — JACK OFF . . . masturbation headcanon!

Only when he is away from you. His touch does not even begin to compare to yours, his hand is not as soft as yours or even as gentle. He much rather prefers to build up his need for you and  just wait to fuck you than the mediocre orgasm he could get with his own hand. 

K — KINK . . . one or more of their kinks!

Mommy kink… look at him and try to argue that. That man needs an affectionate touch, one that slightly resembles a child. It takes him a while to really lean into it, perhaps he does not outwardly call you “mommy” but his actions and the way he almost whines when you run your hands through his hair, he’s definitely thinking about calling you mommy so bad. Another kink he has is voyeurism, as previously mentioned, he fantasises way too much about that scenario. He has taken you in places where you could’ve gotten caught, that rush makes it all the more sweeter for Aemond. Being a dominant is also something he indulges in more, making you be his only and have you all to himself. That eagerness you have to submit to him, the look you give him almost like he’s a God? He could almost melt on the spot.   

L — LOCATION . . . favourite places to do the deed!

Anywhere where he can have you spread, eager for his touch and he can touch every single inch of your skin. He is not picky of the surface in which he fucks you on, Aemond is always ready to be inside you. While he prefers your bed because of its comfortability, he is actually not as picky as one might think. There was one time where he was in the council room, and he sneakily dragged you in and ravaged you on the council’s table. You trying to stifle your rooms, the risk of possibly getting caught and the rush he got from fucking you in a room that was not meant for such an act, it was all too much to bear. He sometimes dreams about that evening, wishing to repeat it.

M — MOTIVATION . . . what turns them on, gets them going!

Everything about you attracts him, but those moments when you act like a brat and give him attitude? Aemond does not know what to do with himself. In his mind all that he can muster up is the need to put you in your place, but not because he’s mad at you, never that; because he loves to be the one to tame you. Your combative attitude is reserved just for him, to the realm you're the picture of grace but to him? Sometimes you cross the line, if you weren’t his wife he’d surely punish you… and he does, but in a most pleasurable way. 

N — NO . . . something they wouldn't do, turn offs!

Anything that involves sharing. You’re only his, no other being deserves to be even looked by you, much less touched. He also wants you to be sound of mind when you’re intimate, if you’re drunk or asleep, he is not pursuing any sexual desires. Though when you’re drunk you’re much bolder, he is only amused by it not aroused. 

O — ORAL . . . preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.

He quite likes being the receiver. There is nothing alike to the sight of you on your knees, pleasuring him as if it was your only duty. Aemond doesn’t mind being the one to go on his knees, with an eager tongue and the prize of your breathy moans. It is much harder for him to submit to you which is why he’d much rather you pleasure him. Even you like being under his mercy, giving him that dominance that he so craves. 

P — PACE . . . are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.

Aemond is usually fast and rough, he fuck you so hard you can feel him for days and leaves your insides aching. He usually worries about his harshness, seeing you limp right after tugs at his heart. Yet, when he’s pounding in you and you scream for more, he forgets about most of those thoughts. He can be slow and sensual if he wishes, taking his time and making you cry for his touch, he sometimes needs that reassurance that you want him just as much as he wants you.

Q — QUICKIE . . . their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.

He thoroughly enjoys a good quickie. It gives him a moment to relieve his stress, to have some semblance of comfort. Whether it’s his study or against one of the library shelves, he aches to have you even for just mere minutes. Aemond likes them so because it is a taste of what he will surely have later, it almost makes him need you and your touch more. It is safe to say he approves of quickies. 

R — RISK . . . are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.

Taking risks is something he loves. He is always eager to try out a new position or christen a new place in the Red Keep. Aemond wants to try all that there is to partake in at least once, some he does again and some he swears to keep hidden, never to be mentioned again. Is he slightly too feral about all things related to sex? Mayhaps, but you enjoy it just as much as he does. 

S — STAMINA . . . how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?

Aemond is a skilled swordsman, his stamina is off the roofs. He trains for hours on end, making himself the perfect warrior, it is not surprising that all that pent up energy is used on you and your bedroom activities. He can easily go for 2 - 5 rounds, lasting for about 8 minutes when he is inside you… though if he is needier, it could take just a few minutes. It is almost impossible to exhaust him, in fact, you’re sure he could be rustling all day between the sheets but as much as you love your husband, there is so much your body can take. 

T — TOYS . . . do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?

He has some, but they are rare. It is not like he doesn’t like the, but he prefers you reaching your peak solely by his hand than another object. Besides, there are not many sexual toys to begin with. Not unless he visits a brothel or has them shipped from Essos.

U — UNFAIR . . . how much they like to tease!

Biggest tease on all of Westeros. He’s making you beg like there is a reward for it, has you squirming and whining for him to touch you more and to stop touching (though that is not what you truly want). He builds up your desire until you cannot form a coherent thought anymore. Aemond takes his time kissing your body, brushing his fingers against your bundle of nerves. He needs you to give yourself wholly to him, tears in your eyes as you beg him to claim you. 

V — VOLUME . . . how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.

Not really loud, he lets out rough grunts and breathy gasps when he ruts inside you or his cock is in your mouth, but that’s as far as it goes. He much prefers listening to the sounds you make, attentive to the way your body expresses all that you feel because of him. Aemond lets out a deep groan when he spills himself inside you, that is the moment he makes the most sound.  

W — WILD CARD . . . a random headcanon for the character!

Aemond once tried to coax you to let him touch you while riding on dragonback. It was a short trip above King’s Landing and he had decided to take you with him to spend more time together, and he took the opportunity to propose a wild idea (he still thinks it wasn’t that wild). But you only looked at him as if he were crazy, shaking your head side-to-side and turning down his proposition. There were many things you were willing to try, but this was too out there. You didn’t feel totally secure in the air to do such an activity, even if it was only touching. Also, poor Vhagar, she doesn’t deserve to be witness to such depravity… She just wanted to fly peacefully for once!

X — X-RAY . . . let's see what's going on under those clothes!

Around 14 cm or 5,5 inches. Though what makes him more impressive is how girthy he is. He hits all the right spots inside you, filling you to the brim. Aemond becomes so greatly skilled that there is no way you can complain about anything. 

Y — YEARNING . . . how high is their sex drive?

He is insatiable. Thinks about all the ways he wants to ravage you at least once a day. If you’re near him? That man is about to risk it all, lose all honours he has just to have a taste of you. Aemond needs to get off you, honestly, he is almost too attracted to you. He needs to have you at least once a day, he doesn't care about anything. You’re on your period? That man simply does not care. You are not feeling well? He knows something that could cheer you up. Nothing could deter him from being intimate with him. 

Z — ZZZ . . . how quickly they fall asleep after sex!

Only falls asleep once he knows you are, he likes to pretend it's for your safety but truly he enjoys watching you be so calm around him. Sleep does not come easy to him, usually plagued by nightmares and thus avoids fully giving himself to the darkness. But being with you helps, your body wrapped by his, hugging you tightly and caressing your hair. He admires your sleeping form and how beautiful you are, that soothes him. The best sleep he has ever gotten has been with you in his arms, no doubt about that. 

[fayes-fics]

NSFW Alphabet for Benedict Bridgerton

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: The A-Z of sexual experiences with Benedict Bridgerton.

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, vaginal sex, sex acts, kink. Mentions of: oral sex (m to f, f to m), cum play, poly/bisexual experiences, sexual fantasies, voyeurism, semi-public sex, exhibitionism, public sex acts, vaginal fingering, breeding kink, dirty talk, masturbation, bondage, breath play, suspension/rope play, object insertion, sex toys, pegging, cock rings, sensory deprivation, blindfolds, sensory play, temperature play, period sex, pregnancy kink.

Authors Note: This is a version of the classic nsfw alphabet challenge. Template available here. I found this lurking in my Google Docs recently. I wrote it two years ago, but I still agree with it all. Enjoy! 🫶

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

Benedict is the king of aftercare. As much as this artistic boy loves a bit of kinky play, what he loves even more is cherishing you after a vigorous session. He will cleanse your body, apply balm to any areas that need salving and wrap you in a loving embrace as you float down from your high. He loves to take soothing baths together and unwind with sensual touches and gentle kisses before climbing into bed, your bodies still damp, smelling like soap and radiating warmth from the hot water.

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

His favourite body parts of his own are his talented, artistic hands. Not only does he create beautiful art with them - including a private collection of nudes of you - but he knows exactly how to use his hands to please you. To not only soothe you through gentle touches or massage but also to get you off with his fingers buried deep inside you. 

His favourite body part of yours is your lips. He loves to watch your mouth move as you talk, the little smirks when you are amused, the way you bite your bottom lip when aroused. The way they taste and feel against his lips, and the way they look wrapped around his cock when you are taking him down as far as you can.

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

His favourite place for his cum to be is deep inside you. He doesn't have a particular fetish for seeing it on your body, despite being an artist. He would prefer to paint your skin with actual paint. The only exception was when you licked the cum off his fingers after you found him masturbating, and he couldn't stop thinking about it for days. To this day, when he masturbates, he still thinks about it.

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

Benedict is full of surprises. One dirty secret he hasn’t told you yet is that he fantasises about you getting fucked by another man while he watches. There’s only one person he would trust to be intimate with his partner: his older brother, Anthony. One day, he might pluck up the courage to ask if you’re amenable to it.

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

Before meeting you, he had many years of varying levels of sowing his wild oats. His hedonistic nature has drawn him into bohemian crowds, so he has experiences of threesomes and plenty of flings with all genders. He knows what he is doing with the female and male body but is never boastful about it, more enthusiastic about applying the knowledge he has gained and adapting it to your wants and desires.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Anything where he can watch your face, he loves to see all the little expressions you pull in the throes of ecstasy. So, face-to-face works best. But it doesn't necessarily have to be in a bed. In fact, he quite enjoys it anywhere and has the stamina to hold you up against a wall if you want it. He also loves taking you from behind in front of a mirror so he can see your face, and you can watch yourself being fucked by him.

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

Benedict is a natural comedian and the king of the reactionary goofy face. So yes, humour during intimacy is a natural extension of his fun-loving personality. He loves to make you giggle in bed; after all, naked bodies and the noises they make can be funny, especially during sex. He loves to laugh with you, his nose buried into your neck as his rich laugh vibrates his chest against yours as you share an amusing moment. 

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

This boy has a beautiful head of chestnut hair but has surprisingly little body hair. You have to really search for the four tiny chest hairs he has. So he doesn't have a lot of hair down there (yes, it matches, with a slight gingery hue). Both modern AU and Regency trim a little to keep it neat—he appreciates the beauty of a well-maintained body.

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

This man is an artistic soul and a true romantic to his core. Romance and intimacy are his sweet spots, and he is effortless in both. Depending on his mood, he can be filthy, romantic, funny or sometimes all three at once in the moment. He is always hyper-aware of your needs, intuiting them often before you know yourself. And he is a giver by nature, ensuring your satisfaction as well as his own. He is very loving and caring; he enjoys kissing a lot during sex.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He has a private stash of sketch (and, if modern, artsy photo) nudes of you and will use them to fuel his fantasies if you are apart. But when it comes close to the moment of coming, his eyes are screwed shut as he pictures you panting his name, knees splayed apart, his cock leaking down his own fist. The quintessential masturbating Benedict to me can be found in my fic Temptation, to be honest. 

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He enjoys powerplay and is a switch to his very core - he can take charge, but he enjoys submitting to you, too. He loves bondage but just light. He loves to tie you up in beautiful silks or his cravats. Either tying your hands together or sometimes to an object like a bedpost. He enjoys it when you tie him up, too, especially if it's with your stockings taken off your warm body, his eyes dilated, and his lips quivering as you tease him and then ride him.

He has a strong exhibitionist streak, and with your permission, he loves to finger you in public, especially during a theatrical or music recital. He loves to watch you try to conceal your reactions from those around you, watching you struggle to come quietly and then discreetly licking his fingers clean afterwards, just to tease you further.

Lastly, he never knew he had a breeding kink until he met you. But now… he wants nothing more than to come deep inside you, hold you down and tell you to take every last drop of his seed. 

L = Location (favourite places to ‘do the do’)

If he's honest, his favourite location is the plush daybed/chaise in the greenhouse he has repurposed as an art studio attached to the side of your home. Sometimes you will be modelling for him, and the urge overtakes him, and you will fuck right then. He loves to take you bent over the arm of the chaise or have you ride him, holding on to the arm of the chaise as he sucks your nipples. If he is working into the night as his muse strikes, he appreciates it when you come to visit him to take him to bed, but you usually end up right on that chaise, Falling asleep looking through the glass roof to the stars. He keeps pillows and blankets stored in a nearby ottoman for just such occasions.

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

You, really. Especially if you are being playful or just paying him loving attention. He loves good banter sometimes, but mostly, it's the sight of your smiling face and the way your pupils dilate when you look at him that really has him aroused. Especally when you voice your desires–just walk up to him and say you want to fuck and he is instantly putty in your hands and raring to go. The more details you whisper, the more turned-on he gets; he loves when you talk dirty.

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

This man is a try-anything-once type of person who isn't quick to judge anything that may occur between consenting adults. He is, however, not into anything that involves inflicting lasting pain (beyond the sting of a good spanking) or drawing blood.

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

He LOVES oral, both giving and receiving. He will give and not expect reciprocation, but nothing makes him weaker than someone just dropping to their knees before him and taking him in their mouth. He is VERY skilled at oral too. Whoever gets to sit on that pretty face is one lucky person. 

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

His usual pace tends towards slow and sensual, but sometimes when the need is great in both of you, there is nothing quite like a fast and rough fuck. Just breaking out into an alleyway behind a restaurant, pushing aside underwear and fucking so hard you both carry fingermarks and light abrasions from the wall.

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

It's not his preference; he would prefer to indulge time in lovemaking, but he is always amendable, especially if you demand it, like sneaking away during an event. Modern Ben isn’t against climbing into the backseat of the car together and having a round if you just can't wait until you get home. That usually happens when he picks you up tipsy from a girls' night out, and you just can't resist hopping on board.

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

He is very open and willing to experiment. He will take some risks, yes, but only calculated ones that are consensual with his partner. He is always responsible if he is in a dominant role, if, say, undertaking breathplay or suspension during rope play. He willingly submits, too, loving being a switch. Semi-public sex with the risk you could get caught makes him so desperately horny; he will quietly beg in your ear to take you outside and fuck you against the garden wall mid-party. And you will let him, liking nothing more than his hot breath panting into your ear, your dress rucked up around your hips, as he makes your toes curl with breath-stealing thrusts.

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

Surprisingly good stamina; he can undoubtedly last as long as you need to be satisfied—every single time. He will need some refractory time between rounds, of course, but you have the ability to arouse him more than anyone else. One memorable night, he kept you up until dawn, eating you out while he recovered from each fucking session, ready to go again as soon as you come screaming on his tongue, ploughing his cock into you while you are still fluttering from your orgasm. You lost your voice that night from all the screaming.  

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

The Regency period was somewhat lacking in sex toys, but he is an inventive boy. He can find a use for many everyday objects in the pursuit of pleasure, including paintbrushes, mahl sticks, and even hairpins. Modern Ben has a few toys but considers them your joint toys as a couple. He will mostly use them on you, but once in a while, he will let you use a vibrating cock ring on him, and occasionally, yes, he will allow himself to be pegged by you with a special dildo just for him. Those days are very special for you, him giving you all his trust and body.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

This man was born to tease. Be it with filthy words, dirty promises or with his hands and tongue, he loves to drive you insane. One of his favourites is to blindfold you and engage in sensory play, running items like feathers or ice over your skin, teasing your senses until you are writhing and quivering. 

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

He is not theatrical, but he does make the most delicious low noises, and he moans so beautifully when you are riding him, his hands clamped around your hips. And, of course, there is LOTS of dirty talk. The man is a poet; he can and will spout knee-trembling filth as easy as breathing. 

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

He loves to wait until you are so turned on that you are almost shaking before he will enter you. Body quivering, pussy leaking profusely, clinging to him and begging him in a raspy voice. He loves to arouse you to the point of mindlessness, babbling for him, for his cock… then he will grab your hips and thrust into you so deep and hard you cry out, scraping your nails down his back. 

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

The statue of David made flesh—broad shoulders and a trim waist, strong but lean. He is more lithe and less hirsute than Anthony or Colin. His skin is soft, pale and smattered with some freckles with downy hair on his surprisingly muscular thighs. Even in Regency, he keeps his pubic hair trimmed a touch, just neatly, not excessively. His cock, even unaroused, is appealing to look at. Although you mostly see it raring to go, red at the tip, leaking just a little for you. Not so enormous as to be intimidating but substantial enough in length and girth to make your eyes roll with pleasure when he pushes into you and feel so full when he’s buried in you, never failing to bring you off. 

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

When you first get together it is intense, barely leaving the bed except to eat and cleanse. But as your relationship evolves, so does the sex. He will have sex every day if you want, but he can go a few days without before he may get a little too horny. He has no fear of sex when you are on your period, so if you are up for it, so is he. If you are apart for a few days, he will masturbate to the private collection of art he has drawn of you. Modern Ben will Facetime you for remote sexy times. When you are pregnant with all of his babies, he is VERY horny for your pregnant body and will have sex all the time, right up until you give birth. 

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He is out like a light. It’s actually quite endearing. He will get all like a sleepy cat after sex. He will curl into and around you and make little contented noises, then within seconds of kissing and bidding you goodnight, his breathing is deep and even. Luckily he doesn’t snore much at all. You bring him such peace and solace—he just wants you close, in his arms, and he is instantly asleep. 

masterlist • wips • taglist (must be following this blog to be tagged)

Benedict Taglist pt 1: @makaylan @longingintheuniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kmc1989 @desert-fern @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @sya-skies

[fourmoony]

Just thinking about Sirius trusting reader enough to do his hair :,) or maybe she experiments with putting his hair in curlers/curling it. I could even imagine Sirius owning a Dyson airwrap to have the best blowouts 😭💀

Sirius would 100000% own the dyson air wrap!!! Thanks for requesting, babe!

cw: none

750 words, modern au

You're not sure where Sirius learned his money managing skills from (or if he even has any), but the pleased smile and child-like excitement over his brand new hair dryer is something you refuse to admonish. Though, you're sure even if you tried, you'd fail.

Your boyfriend bounces happily on the balls of his feet, hair sopping wet and plastered to his face. Water droplets seep into his grey shirt but Sirius doesn't seem to care. Not when he's too busy making bedroom eyes at the unopened box on the bathroom counter. He'd been so happy when John Lewis finally had the Dyson Air Wrap back in stock, had dragged you out of bed this morning to drop an easy five hundred quid on it. Your head had spun with the realisation of just how rich your boyfriend actually is.

He's not flashy with his money. Irresponsible, yes. But being there to witness a classic Sirius-Black-Irresponsible-Purchase had really solidified the knowledge that your boyfriend is filthy rich.

"Okay, I'll grab a stool and you set it up." He says, turning to make for the stool that sits under your dressing table.

"Wait, you want me to do it?" You yell after him.

Sirius makes noise everywhere he goes. He's loud and abrasive, jagged around the edges. He loves so loud that it only makes sense his entire personality is the same. There's thumps and grumbles as he bumps into things all the way along the hall, the tell tale sounds of the stool scraping along your freshly painted hallway. "Well who else would do it?" Sirius rounds the corner, flashes his teeth in a wide grin that he knows will make you fold.

"What makes you think I'm qualified?"

Sirius shrugs, "The fact that I'm one hundred percent not. You're good at everything, sweetness."

He knows flattery works like a charm, especially when he pairs it with his best flirty eyes. You sigh, reaching for the box and unravelling all of the corresponding pieces. It's high tech, incredibly high tech. Sirius fidgets on the stool as you watch a video on your phone, lips curled between your teeth in concentration.

It takes a while to get the hang of, and you're sure you'll get better in time. Sirius softens and relaxes as much as he ever allows himself to as your fingers work through his hair, as you brush and comb and dry it. He hums and sighs and even closes his eyes. It's peaceful and intimate and it allows you to come to a startling realisation that Sirius has never asked you to do his hair for him before.

He's not prissy about his hair. He'll let anyone touch it. He actually begs for people to play with his hair. But he's never outright asked you to fix it up for him, prefers to get it sitting perfect by himself because he believes it to be his best asset. You'd have to disagree with him on that. His eyes never fail to amaze you, nor his smile.

"All done." Your voice seems to pull him out of a daydream.

His eyes open and he smiles wide, turning in the stool in an instant until he can take your hands in his. "Bad news, sweetheart, you're going to have to do this every day." He informs you, standing until his hands can reach your hips.

He pulls you into him, a little roughly, but catches you with his own body, lips ducking down to press to your forehead. You resist the urge to tell him you'd be happy to do his hair every day, if only to feel the intimacy and pride of being the one person he trusts to style his hair.

"Such a travesty." You feign indifference, lips pressed to his collar bone where it peeks out of his shirt.

Sirius shivers at the contact. "Easy, sweetness. I know my hair is super hot and stuff, but we have dinner reservations with James and Remus. They'll get pissy if we cancel to have sex."

"Again." He adds after a second.

You scoff, pushing your boyfriend away whilst he barks with laughter. Heat creeps up your neck as you exit the bathroom, ignoring Sirius' shouts down the hallway that he could make an exception for a quickie.

"Thanks, baby!" He calls a moment later.

You can't fight the smile that toys at your lips as you pick out an outfit for dinner.

[pennyellee]

chapter IX - lacuna

LACRIMOSA | MYG MAFIA YANDERE AU

pairings: mafia leader!yoongi x f!reader

genre: mafia!au, yandere au, historical au

summary: Their interlocking gaze served as a butterfly effect on his heart, stirring it to the core. She, in turn, only dreams to find a way to escape. But perchance, over time she might forcefully learn to love the man who has taken so much from her.

Thus unfolds a twisted tale of love and loss, of hope and despair, of life and death. The music reverberated through the dimly-lit streets. Tears of sorrow, weeping symphony - reflects the hurt, the scars that linger deep within and the wounds that never healed. Lacrimosa.

warnings: minors dni 18+ | mafia au, dark!yoongi, mafia!yoongi, mentions of antidepressants, anxiety, panic attacks, nightmares, mentions of night terrors, mentions of self harm, manipulative behaviour, mentions of labotomy, medical cases, intimate life, diseases, “failed” pregnancy, alcohol, medication, etc.

beta read by @chaoticpuff17

word count: 8,7K

disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain depictions of violence, blood shed, death, mentions of abuse, smoking, alcohol drinking, illegal activities, old social norms and traditions, which we do not condone.

A/N: so yes, it took me a while to actually finish this chapter and as I mentioned - it’s shorter than what I usually want to write for lacrimosa. Truth to be told, this is what I can do for now till I get something better to write on. I don’t know when the next chapter will be written and up, so for now thank you for your patience, i actually didnt think i would write a chapter whilst im in US coz the only device on my person is my phone, but im very happy I managed to write something. This chapter is more of a prequel go what’s going to happen next. Many of you actually guessed/predicted some things right and for some you have to wait till the very end, we’re near it.

Massive thank you goes to @chaoticpuff17 who managed to beta read it despite both our situations being crazy rn, ily queen 🥹🫧🩵

Love you all, p.

m.list

lacuna (n.) a blank space, missing part

The night was relentless, a symphony of thunderclaps and the steady drum of rain against the cobblestones. The celebrations of the famous Kkangpae toned down, and after some months, several trips to the barren debris land of where Yakuza reigned, they returned safely to the sanctuary.

Back where she cannot hide from him in the stables, kitchen or sunroom, switching from one room to another just to not be in his presence for longer than she wanted. Yet, he managed to steal her away when his frustration boiled up enough. Y/N could’ve hinted how much she doesn’t want him to sleep next to her all she wants, he kept sneaking in and out every time. Yoongi was patient, determined even. Determined to make things right this time by giving her space. But the wrenching feeling of not having her close enough consumed him, night, day and moon.

Yoongi kept his promise, giving Y/N the space she needed while gradually attempting to rebuild the trust that had been shattered. He was careful with his words, patient in his actions, and ever attentive to her unspoken needs. The pair worked on their friendship these past weeks, he wanted himself to be her person. The person that she would love and lean on.

But the young Buin might seem calm now, from outside, but her wit remained under the surface. She buried herself deep within her psyche and doctor Kim could do very little to “repair” her. Not even renown specialists who came to give the young girl a helping hand did not succeed.

Yoongi watched her from a distance yet at the same time he was so close, his heart aching with the knowledge that he was partly to blame for her withdrawal. He had been too harsh, too controlling. Now, he was paying the price. He wanted nothing more than to hold her, to whisper apologies and promises into her ear. But every time he approached, he could see the fear and distrust in her eyes. It was a barrier he didn't know how to break.

Wang Xiaoqing’s wisdom was passed onto her, they whispered. But truth to be told, the elder woman, may she rest in peace, underestimated the new blood. The following legacy. Now, her kin suffers.

Yoongi wishes he never used the letter as leverage against her nor let her read it. At night he wonders whether that would change things. Whether by now she would be in love with him just as much he’s in love with her.

He sat down with the rest of his family at the dinner table after she broke down with yet another panic attack. The dining room was oppressively silent, the atmosphere thick with unspoken tension. It wasn’t even the end of January, and the snow was still prevailing outside. Yoongi sat at the head of the table, his expression a mask of stoic resolve, though his heart was anything but calm.

Y/N was conspicuously absent, her chair at the table glaringly empty. Yoongi's mind replayed the scene from earlier, the look of sheer panic in her eyes as she had crumbled under the weight of her emotions. He had wanted to reach out to her, to offer comfort, but he knew his presence would only worsen her distress.

Clearing his throat, Yoongi broke the silence, his voice strained but firm.

“I know you care about me. About this family—”

“I’ve made mistakes—mistakes that have pushed her to the edge.”

“No, Yoongi—” the right hand man straightened himself in his seat interrupting his leader.

Yoongi’s eyes flickered with a mixture of frustration and sorrow as he turned to face his right-hand man, Namjoon. The room held its breath, tension crackling in the air.

“Namjoon, please,” Yoongi said, his voice weary. “My wife slit her throat, stop justifying my actions.”

Namjoon hesitated but nodded, leaning back in his chair, his expression still troubled. Yoongi took a deep breath, steeling himself to continue.

"I pushed her too far, and now she's breaking—”

“Now, I don’t know what your intentions are with my wife, but I forbid you from whatever you are putting into her head.”

Namjoon's eyes widened in shock at Yoongi's words, his mouth opening and closing as if searching for the right response. The weight of Yoongi's accusation hung heavy in the air, and the room seemed to grow even quieter, the tension palpable.

Yoongi's jaw clenched, his frustration simmering beneath the surface. He had always trusted Namjoon implicitly, had relied on him as his closest confidant and advisor. But now, in the wake of Y/N's pain and suffering, he couldn't help but wonder if that trust had been misplaced.

“All of you.”

“Yoongi, I swear—” Namjoon began, his voice tinged with desperation. But Yoongi held up a hand, cutting him off.

“I don't want to hear it, Namjoon,” he said, his tone final.

“Whatever it is, I’m giving her the space to tell me herself.” Namjoon's gaze faltered under Yoongi's intense stare.

“I would never intentionally do anything to harm Y/N or come between you two. She's like family to me, too.” Yoongi's jaw clenched tighter, but he nodded curtly, acknowledging Namjoon's words.

“Seokjin.” He addressed the oldest man in the room.

“Yes, Yoongi?” Seokjin replied, his voice steady despite the gravity of the situation.

“She’s still taking those pills you gave her,” Seokjin's brow furrowed in concern at Yoongi's words. They were only a temporary solution before Seokjin decided that day to put her on barbiturates. She needs his help and if he cannot help her the way he knows it will be most effective, he’ll at least prescribe whatever will tone down her night terrors so she can sleep at nights.

"I'll talk to her," he said firmly. “But you know what would certainly help her—” Yoongi’s hand flew high to hit the table, making everybody twitch at the loud noise.

“No, Seokjin. No.” The family members exchanged solemn nods. Yoongi took a moment to compose himself, his chest heaving with pent-up frustration.

"She needs more support than we can provide on our own. We have to consider what's best for her.” Yoongi struggled to find the words to express his feelings. "I know, Seokjin," he replied, his voice thick with emotion. "But that is going way too far.”

Namjoon leaned forward, his expression earnest. The youngest at the end of the table cleared his throat. All eyes turned to him, waiting for his input. Jungkook hesitated for a moment, feeling the weight of the tension in the room, before speaking up.

“Maybe you just need to stop shielding her in. Let her live a life—” Jungkook's suggestion hung in the air, a fresh perspective on the situation that caused the family members to exchange thoughtful glances.

Yoongi's brow furrowed as he considered Jungkook's words, the idea of allowing Y/N more freedom conflicting with his instinct to protect her.

“But what if she runs for the hills, Kook.” Park Jimin’s voice echoed from across the room, his hands busy pouring the strong liquor to seven crystal glasses. Yoongi's gaze flickered towards Jimin, setting the first glass in front of him.

"I can't bear the thought of her running away from me again," Yoongi admitted, his voice heavy with emotion. Hoseok nodded in agreement, his expression sombre.

Jungkook nodded thoughtfully, understanding Yoongi's apprehension. "I get where you're coming from, hyung,—” Jimin set down the last glass of liquor, his expression sympathetic.

“I’d say, nonetheless, she needs something to occupy her mind other than those thoughts.” Said Jimin sitting down on his chair while nursing his own glass of the booze.

"Maybe if we can find something that brings her joy, something to distract her—” Seokjin nodded in agreement, his expression thoughtful.

“She studied, tasted her own freedom and now all she’s left with is being your wife.” Yoongi's heart clenched at Jimin's words, a pang of guilt washing over him. But still a large part of him was thinking why it is not enough.

“She can work with me once she’s better.” The doctor interjected. Yoongi's gaze shifted towards Seokjin, a flicker of hope igniting within him at the suggestion.

"You think she'd be up for it?" Yoongi asked, his voice tentative yet hopeful.

“Ah hyung you’re so in the dark—” Jungkook remarked. Jungkook sighed, his gaze meeting Yoongi's with empathy.

“She needs to feel like she has a say in her own life, like she's not just living for someone else.” Where this newfound wisdom arose, Yoongi did not know. But he was glad for the support of his family men.

Hoseok placed a reassuring hand on Yoongi's shoulder, his expression filled with empathy.

“She knows so much about herbs, remedies, I think she’ll be happy to help Seokjin.” Yoongi's heart swelled with gratitude for Hoseok's insight. He hadn't fully realised the extent of Y/N's knowledge and interests outside of their marriage and that needed to change.

“Don’t tell her just yet.” The right hand man remarked.

“Yes, I want to give her more time to recover before we come back to the sanctuary.” The other family members murmured their agreement, a sense of solidarity and understanding settling over them. After all, at the end of the day it is a happy wife, happy life.

—

But months later, Y/N understood that if there’s even a slight possibility that the scarred leader will grow for better, it would be a painfully long process. She realised so once he returned with his knuckles all bruised and bloodied one night. She tended to them, and he was basking under her touch. Despite everything, she couldn’t ignore the humanity in his pain.

Her eyes rolled and a loud sigh followed when she understood what was the cause of his lapse of senses. He had let his frustration and anger take over him, but rather than put it out on everyone else like he was known for, he silently left his office to vent his anger elsewhere. She guided him to sit down after she asked the maid to bring her everything she needed to clean his wounds.

Yoongi watched her, his eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and excitement under her delicate touch. The feel of her hands, so careful and tender, was both a comfort and a torment. The imagery masking all the darkness that loomed over them, they would fool even the Lord himself that this couple is one of love.

They sat in silence, the only sound the soft rustle of bandages and the distant rumble of thunder outside. Yoongi closed his eyes, leaning into her touch. It was a small gesture, but it spoke volumes to him. She avoided him less and less. So why did he have to let his steam off so suddenly?

“You know—” she began, focusing on his other hand now.

“You’re not really setting a good example of “communication is the key ”, now do you?”

Yoongi's eyes flickered open at her words, a hint of guilt flashing across his features before he quickly masked it with a neutral expression. He couldn't deny the truth in her statement, nor could he easily articulate the tangled mess of emotions that swirled within him.

His mind drifted back to the hushed whispers, the concerned looks from Seokjin. Y/N was still fairly weak in terms of her health. Yet, he hoped that maybe, just maybe, she’ll come to tell him he’s going to be a father. Foolish of him, he knows. Selfish of him, he knows that too.

“I’m sorry, Dove.” He only muttered, forcing a kiss to her sphenoid bone, it was the only affection she rarely allowed him to show. Y/N knew that if she wanted to persuade him that she isn’t a flying risk, she’ll have to allow him to do more. She progressed slowly, with patience and space to breathe everything out.

The reason the young leader needed to vent his anger was obvious to Y/N. She heard the maid that so blatantly spied on everything she did, what she asked for, and whom she talks to on the telephone. Y/N was cautious, yet today, she had to ask for some feminine goods. She understood where his hope for a baby came from, he got himself to believe that once the monthly bleeding did not come the first, second nor the third month.

The young gal, however, knew that this has nothing to do with the possibility of her being pregnant. She still drank the remedy, just to be sure, and for her peace of mind as it bore too many demons already. The fourth month her body decided it’s time to function again and of course the devoted maid reported that right back to her husband whose hope for a child vanished.

“I was hoping we could go see Ma and little Bo Cheng before the wedding, I promised to teach him how to ride a ho—” she began her request carefully. Y/N had managed to negotiate Daiyu’s extended vacation in America with her young son and Kai, yet she couldn’t shake the strong feeling that Yoongi had only allowed such a thing to happen because he felt indebted to her at the moment. Her state was far more delicate than he thought and he desperately wanted to make her happy. The one thing she wanted the most, he couldn’t grant. Freedom.

“Would that make you happy?” Yoongi interrupted. He sighed, his eyes drifting to the window where dark clouds gathered on the horizon.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, a small, hesitant smile tugged at Y/N’s lips. It was a fragile thing, easily shattered, but it was real. And in that moment, Yoongi vowed to himself that he would protect that smile, nurture it, and help it grow.

“Yes, it would. Maybe we could also pay a visit to Daiyu—” Y/N sucked her lips in and shyly smiled again. Yoongi nodded slowly. He sighed, leaning back in his chair, his fingers drumming against the armrests. The weight of their precarious situation pressed down on him, the knowledge that every decision could have far-reaching consequences hanging over them like a dark cloud.

“I’m not sure about that, sweetling,” he replied, his voice tinged with uncertainty. Her heart clenched, did he understand her intentions?

“You said you’ll give me the world, Yoongi. Why not this?” Y/N’s smile faltered, a flicker of disappointment crossing her features.

Yoongi’s gaze softened further, a mixture of regret and longing in his eyes. He reached out, taking her hand in his, his touch gentle and reassuring.

“I will consider this trip, but we have to be cautious now. War is looming on the horizon.” He explained, his tone serious.

“What do you mean war? You’ve just won one,” she challenged, her voice laced with disbelief.

“The world is a volatile place, Dove. Our battle was nothing in comparison to what is to come. The world will fight—” Yoongi’s expression darkened, the weight of their past victories suddenly overshadowed by the looming threat of conflict. Y/N’s heart sank at the mention of war, a cold knot forming in the pit of her stomach.

“Until we’re certain there’s no threat, I want us to remain in Korea, my love.” he declared, his final words.

Y/N’s heart sank at his words, but she forced herself to nod, understanding the gravity of their situation. The war threatened to consume them all, and they had to tread carefully if they were to survive. Y/N nodded slowly to his words.

“She wrote to you this morning, didn’t she?” Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that she’s running out of time. If they were caught up in the chaos, she feared she may never leave this place. And with Yoongi’s resolve to remain in Korea, their window of opportunity grew smaller with each passing moment. It was worth the shot, he wouldn’t let her slip that easily if there’s an actual threat that the world’s will battle.

“She met someone,” Y/N added softly, her voice tinged with uncertainty of how Yoongi will react. He, however, already knew. There was nothing that would go past him or so he thought.

"She met someone?" he repeated, his voice tinged with false scepticism. Y/N's heart ached at the doubt in Yoongi's voice, but she held firm in her conviction.

“She’s a widow with a child, who—”

“Happy widow with a child—” she inserted herself into his remark. "She deserves it, Yoongi. After everything she's been through, she deserves a chance at love and happiness.”

“Daiyu is no longer tied to the syndicate. You promised not to meddle with her affairs unless she needs help.” She reminded him less gently, her voice tinged with a hint of caution.

“I intend to keep that promise.” Lie. He already knew the man who so openly started to court her. A sense of relief washed over Y/N as she watched Yoongi's resistance soften, even if it was pretended.

“The rain won’t stop pouring—” Y/N’s voice trailed off, a sombre note creeping into her tone as she glanced out the window at the stormy sky.

“How do you feel today?” Yoongi observed Y/N for a moment, his expression softening as he took in her weary demeanour.

“Better than yesterday.” She replied, her voice carrying a hint of resilience. Yoongi nodded, a sense of relief washing over him at her response. Despite the challenges they faced, he was grateful for every moment of peace they could find amidst the storm.

He noticed the subtle signs of improvement in her appearance. Her cheeks, once sunken and lifeless, now held a hint of colour, and the dark circles under her eyes seemed less pronounced. Her eyes sparkled differently, not with tears as of late. Whatever Seokjin is doing to help her, it is working.

“Have you slept well?” he inquired gently, his voice filled with genuine concern. From Monday to Friday, storms reigned over the hidden valley. Yoongi reached out, gently brushing a stray strand of hair away from her face, his touch tender and reassuring. Her dark hair grew enough to reach past her shoulders since the unfortunate event back in October.

“It wasn't the best, but it was better than before.” Yoongi nodded in understanding, his gaze lingering on her with a mixture of admiration and concern. He knew that even the smallest victories, like a few hours of sleep, were worth celebrating in their tumultuous world. After all the night terrors she endured for months.

“How’s working with Seokjin?” He knew how demanding their roles could be, especially in the midst of ongoing turmoil. Yoongi expected her to sigh just as softly as she always does, her expression to reflect the weight of responsibility, but none of that happened. Y/N smiled at him brightly instead.

Y/N's smile was like a ray of sunlight breaking through the clouds, momentarily dispelling the shadows that lingered around them.

“Work has been great. I've been able to help so many people—” she replied, her voice infused with a sense of optimism that Yoongi hadn't heard in a while. As she spoke, Y/N’s eyes lit up with enthusiasm, a stark contrast to the weariness that had plagued her in recent months.

“Did you know that punk, Jungkook, pretends to be sick every other day just to swing by?” Y/N’s voice was filled with amusement as she recounted the antics of the youngest of the seven. Though older than her, she did not feel any age difference between them two.

Yoongi couldn’t help but chuckle at the mention of Jungkook's antics.

"That sounds like him," he remarked, a fond smile playing at his lips. She continued, her words flowing freely as she recounted her experiences while working with Seokjin at the clinic.

“Seokjin has been a wonderful mentor,” she continued, her eyes shining with gratitude. “He’s taught me so much more than we actually studied at school—” Yoongi nodded in agreement, a sense of pride swelling within him as he listened to Y/N's tales of their work at the clinic.

“I remember this one young man who had sustained severe burns on his arms. The sight of his injuries was heart-breaking, but I could see the determination in his eyes to overcome the pain.” Y/N’s voice softened with emotion as she recalled the moment.

"We worked tirelessly to stabilise him, and when he finally regained consciousness, the look of gratitude in his eyes made all the long hours and hard work worth it. It was a reminder of why I wanted to be a nurse in the first place—to make a difference in people’s lives, no matter how small.”

Yoongi listened intently, his heart swelling with a mixture of emotions. He couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret for not allowing her to pursue her passion for nursing earlier.

He may not be able to undo the past, but he could certainly make sure that she had all the support she needed to thrive in the future. The youngest was right. She needed this, she needed to regain her purpose in her life. To be someone for herself.

He realised how much he had underestimated her need for work, how vital it was for her to have a sense of purpose and fulfilment. There was still hope and goodness.

Yoongi listened to all the stories she had to say as for the first time since forever, there were no tears, no screams, no tension in the air. Just the calm, steady rhythm of their shared breaths.

“You know,” Yoongi began, his voice soft, "I'm proud of you. Proud of everything you've accomplished and the progress you’re making. I should have let you do this sooner.”

“Can’t change the past now can we?” He nodded to her remark solemnly, squeezing her hand.

“Tell me more,—” he urged, eager to hear more about her work, her passion. He wanted to be part of her world just like she is part of his, to support her in every way possible.

Y/N smiled, her face glowing with happiness. “Well, there’s this little girl named Jang-mi. She’s been coming in for treatment regularly, and despite everything, she's always so cheerful—”

—

Y/N pulled her coat tighter around her, feeling the icy water seep through the fabric. Her breath came in shallow gasps, mixing with the cold air to form small clouds that dissipated as quickly as they appeared. She huddled beneath the overhang of a small alley, her body shivering uncontrollably. The once comforting weight of her coat now felt like a burden, soaked and heavy.

Her mind raced, a chaotic swirl of fear and desperation. The past few days had been a whirlwind of terror and confusion. She had trusted the wrong people, made alliances that crumbled under the weight of deceit. Every step she took seemed to lead her deeper into a labyrinth of danger and uncertainty. She couldn’t afford another mistake; the stakes were too high. The sound of her own heartbeat was loud in her ears, a constant reminder of the life-or-death game she was playing.

A sudden flash of lightning split the sky, casting stark shadows and illuminating the alley in a harsh, white light. For a brief moment, everything was clear and sharp, every detail etched into her memory. That’s when she saw him.

At the mouth of the alley is where he stood , his figure backlit by the brilliant light. He was drenched, his hair plastered to his forehead, but he seemed unfazed by the torrential rain. His presence was as menacing as ever, a dark silhouette against the night. His eyes, however, were what held her captive. They were dark, deep pools of unreadable emotion, reflecting the storm’s fury.

Yoongi didn’t move, didn’t speak. He simply watched her, his gaze intense and unwavering. It was a look she had seen before, one that sent chills down her spine. It was the look of a predator sizing up its prey. She knew then, with a sickening certainty, that no matter how far she ran, he would always be one step ahead.

Panic surged through her, threatening to overwhelm her senses. She pressed herself against the wall, the rough brick scraping her skin through the thin material of her coat. She needed to think, to find a way out, but her mind was a blur of fear and fatigue. The rain continued to pour, the cold seeping into her bones, making her limbs feel heavy and uncooperative.

Yoongi took a step forward, the movement slow and deliberate. His boots splashed in the puddles, the sound muffled by the storm. Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest, a wild, frantic rhythm. She felt like a trapped animal, cornered with no way out. The alley was a dead end, and Yoongi was blocking her only escape route.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice low and smooth, cutting through the noise of the storm. “You can’t keep running.”

His words were a cold, hard truth that she didn’t want to accept. But she had no choice. Every attempt to escape had led her right back to him, like a cruel game of cat and mouse. She swallowed hard, her throat dry despite the rain. She had to keep fighting, had to find a way to break free from his grip.

“I won’t let you control me,” she said, her voice shaking but determined. “I’ll find a way out.”

Yoongi’s expression didn’t change, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—amusement, perhaps, or admiration for her defiance. “You’re stronger than I thought,” he said, taking another step closer. “But strength alone won’t save you.”

He was close now, close enough that she could see the droplets of rain clinging to his eyelashes, the way his clothes clung to his body. His presence was overwhelming, a dark force that seemed to consume all the light around him. She knew she had to act, had to do something before it was too late.

Summoning every ounce of courage, Y/N pushed off the wall and lunged towards him, hoping to catch him off guard. But Yoongi was ready. His hand shot out, grabbing her wrist with a grip like iron. She struggled, twisting and pulling, but he was too strong.

“Let me fucking go!” she cried, her voice breaking with desperation.

Yoongi pulled her closer, his other hand coming up to cup her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “You’re mine, Y/N,” he said softly, his breath warm against her skin. “And I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. Even if it means protecting you from yourself.”

Tears mingled with the rain on her cheeks as she realised the futility of her struggle. Yoongi’s words were a chilling promise, one that she knew he would keep. She was trapped, caught in a web of his making, with no way out.

The storm raged on around them, but in that moment, all Y/N could feel was the cold, unyielding grip of the man she used to fear, and the inescapable reality of her situation.

Y/N woke with a start, her breath coming in ragged gasps as the remnants of the nightmare clung to her mind. Her body was drenched in cold sweat, and her heart pounded wildly in her chest. For a moment, she couldn’t discern reality from the dream, the vivid images of the rain-soaked alley and Yoongi’s menacing presence still haunting her.

It was a memory that was hidden in the back of her mind to resurface when she’s the most vulnerable. It had happened a few times already, her mind showing her each time she attempted to escape the scarred leader.

She took a deep breath and listened to the mix of crackling fireplace and raindrops outside. His eyes were on her petite physique, his hands holding a book he was reading while she took a well deserved afternoon nap. He put down his reading glasses and ran a hand through his hair, closing the book and turning her attention to her.

“Which one was it this time?”

She turned to see him sitting beside her, his eyes filled with worry. The contrast between the Yoongi in her nightmare and the one before her now was stark. Gone was the cold, calculating predator; in his place was a man who genuinely cared for her well-being. He did change a little. Or maybe he was like that before but his selfishness didn’t allow him to show her his bright side.

Her legs moved to his lap when she was asleep, and he gently rubbed circles into her ankles, his touch soothing for once.

“Will you keep me safe?”

Yoongi's expression softened further, his gaze unwavering as he looked into her eyes. He knows that there were moments that haunt her till now. Moments he let happen with his cockiness.

“Always,” he replied, his voice steady and filled with conviction. “I’ll keep you safe, no matter what.”

“I just... I don’t want to be afraid anymore,” she admitted, her voice breaking slightly.

“Just rest, Dove,” Yoongi murmured, his voice a soothing balm to her frayed nerves. “I’ll be right here.”

After a few silent minutes, Y/N broke the calm silence.

“Can we play the piano?”

He hesitated for a moment, then nodded. Together, they moved to the old piano in the corner of the room. As they sat side by side, their fingers tentatively began to touch the keys. Each note was a delicate thread, weaving together a tapestry of their unspoken emotions. The music became their secret language, a way to say everything they couldn’t put into words.

Every time she did not feel like speaking herself, they played. Until she felt better. Yoongi played with a gentle intensity, his fingers dancing over the keys with practised ease.

He was a better player, so she thought. Afterall, he had had more life to practice.

The medication made her more open to him. Sooner or later she’ll have to get off of it before it will become her only source of happiness. There were days it made her sleep well, drink, eat, breathe and live like the person she used to be. And there were days she sat in front of her vanity mirror knowing this effect is only temporary.

She cannot afford to get off of them while she’s remaining by his side. Her being would not take it and the prospect of freedom would be scarce. It blunted negative emotions which worked in the scarred boy’s favour.

It was working, but it was a question of time when she’ll develop tolerance and they won’t work anymore. That’s why Seokjin is desperately trying to convince Yoongi that he’ll have a way to help her. Permanently.

Yoongi knows that it would be just another mistake he would have to write under his name.

“I’ll always keep you safe,” he whispered again, his words a promise and a plea. And in the quiet aftermath of their duet, she almost believed him.

In that fleeting moment, she wasn’t running, and Yoongi wasn’t chasing. They were simply two souls, lost in the music, trying to find their way back to each other. One more than the other.

His hand moved to cover hers on the keys, their eyes meeting in the stillness that followed. The world outside ceased to exist, the rain and the fire a distant backdrop to the intensity of their shared gaze.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, Yoongi leaned in, his breath mingling with hers. Her heart raced, not with fear, but with a different kind of anticipation.

Their faces were inches apart, the unspoken words hanging in the air between them. His eyes flickered to her lips, then back to her eyes, seeking permission, seeking assurance. Y/N’s breath hitched, her mind a whirlwind of emotions.

“Unnie?!” Xiaoli's voice rang out, bright and oblivious. “We need to talk about—”

“Can you keep me safe from my own sister?” She scoffed playfully. His chuckle bounced on her lips as his lips still hovered just a breath away from hers, the paper door swung open with a sudden, sharp creak.

Taehyung stepped in behind her, his eyes widening as he took in the scene. "Oh. We’re... interrupting, aren’t we?”

Yoongi pulled back slightly, his expression darkening as he turned to face them. Y/N felt the moment slipping away, the fragile connection disrupted.

“What is it?” Yoongi asked, his voice strained with barely concealed irritation.

“You invited us to have dinner, Hyung.” Taehyung reminded him, his tone a mix of apology and amusement.

Xiaoli’s eyes darted between Yoongi and Y/N, realisation dawning on her face. “Oh... we’re really sorry. I didn’t mean to barge in, Kkangpae Min.”

She apologised, still not her but always to him and him only. Y/N forced herself to smile. The woman that her sister became is not the same one she grew up with.

“There was nothing to interrupt, don’t worry,” she waved it off and Yoongi sighed, the tension in his shoulders evident.

—

The fleeting moment of intimacy with Y/N hung heavily in his mind. Before, during and after the dinner. He was extravagantly close to feel her lips on his again, just for the moment to be swept away.

Dinner was a mix of awkward silences and forced conversation. Xiaoli and Taehyung tried to lighten the mood, but the air was thick with unspoken words.

Yoongi, for his part, seemed distant, his mind clearly elsewhere. Every so often, his gaze would meet hers across the table.

“Will you come next week?” Xiaoli asked, sipping her wine.

Y/N, momentarily distracted from her thoughts, looked up.

“Next week?”

Y/N glanced at Yoongi, who was already looking at her. She hesitated, unsure of committing to anything he did not allow earlier.

“Yes, Y/N promised Bo Cheng to teach him how to ride a horse, and I have some business to attend to.” Yoongi cleared his throat, breaking the silence.

“I could teach him,” Said Xiaoli, a bit jealous that their brother wanted Y/N to teach him when she was right there in the hotel.

Once Xiaoli and Taehyung will be with each other for eternity, the family of three then, will take their leave back to China.

The Triad leader attended his own business trips while his wife and children stayed with the “allying” clan.

He doesn’t know. None of them knows what Y/N did to herself, apart from Xiaoli, who herself doesn’t know every detail. They spreaded white lies to cover this “lapse of senses”. A misstep. Y/N hides the fading scar carefully to avoid any explanation. She wished to not tell them, and the kkangpae did not object to her wishes anymore. Whatever she wants, she gets. Usually, most of the time if she’s reasonable and clever about it.

The past months painstakingly helped them to get better. Or so Yoongi thought. Her priority was never to be his good wife, her priority is him thinking she will be his good obedient loving wife and when he won’t expect her to seek freedom anymore — she’ll disappear.

“I don't know about that, honey. You remember that nasty fall you took last year?” Her husband-to-be said nonchalantly. Y/N furrowed her brows in confusion.

“Fall?—“ she asked, doubting his words.

“What are you talking about?” Xiaoli herself was surprised at his words. She did not recall any falls. Y/N knew Xiaoli isn’t the best rider, but she was decent enough to hold any situation that would make her fall from the horse under control.

“I don’t remember that,—” she said, taking another long sip from her glass.

“You’d certainly remember falling from a horse. Why don’t I know about this, Yoongi?” Said Y/N turning herself to the quiet man.

“I was having a hard time keeping you here as you loved to go for a run back then. It must have slipped my mind—“

“My sister falling from a horse slipped your mind?”

“He did not know Y/N, until a lot later. Right, Hyung?” Taehyung smiled sweetly at her, defending his Kkangpae. As always. Y/N clicked her tongue and gifted Yoongi with a penetrating stare creating another layer of tension in the room.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He cleared his throat, attempting to gather his thoughts. The last thing he wants is to mess up their relationship again.

“You’re right, love. I should have told you once I got to know that,” Yoongi admitting guilt is a new trait he acquired these past months.

“How did she fall?” Y/N aimed her question at Taehyung as her sister clearly doesn't remember it.

“It wasn’t probably that bad if I don’t remember it, Unnie. Don’t worry about it anymore—“ the younger female answered before her fiance had the chance to do so.

Y/N sighed loudly but the hand under the table that was gripping her younger sister’s thigh was not seen by her eyes.

—

It was hard to keep focus, especially with Seokjin constantly needing her assistance at work. His stern demeanour and meticulous nature kept her on her toes, but she appreciated the distraction. She knew why she was at his beck and call. Yoongi demanded so. Under any circumstances she ought to be next to Seokjin.

The ambulance in the sanctuary was significantly smaller than the big sanitorium in the town, but there was still some work to do here too.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked, leaning back in his chair and studying her intently.

“The usual,” she murmured, filling today’s report. Seokjin watched her for a moment, then brought the courage to ask.

“Have you been intimate?” Y/N dropped the pen at once and with wide eyes. She stared at him. The question came out of nowhere nor was it called for.

“Wh-what do you mean intimate?”

“Exactly what I said,” he replied calmly, not breaking eye contact.

“Have you been intimate with Yoongi again?”

“I don’t see how this is your business, Seokjin.” She felt her face flush with heat, a mix of embarrassment and anger.

“I’m not trying to pry. I’m your friend, but I’m also your doctor, sweetling—,” he said softly.

“Your health and well-being are my concern,” Seokjin explained. “And you know that if something’s affecting you emotionally or physically, it could impact your health.”

Bullcrap, he is in fact prying.

She was silent for a minute, trying to comprehend how he is taking care of her being this late. If she wouldn’t attempt to kill herself, these concerns wouldn’t be as great. But Y/N cannot afford to break havoc. She can’t go on rampage as she wants every single person here to think that she is moving towards being a good obedient wife of the Kkangpae. Even though she wants to scream to each and one of their faces about how much they failed her. How much they hurt her. Yet, patience is the key. Breathe, sleep, eat, endure.

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, then decided to change the topic.

“What about your wife?” Seokjin’s eyes flickered with surprise before he masked it with a neutral expression. Y/N barely knew the woman. Matter of fact she has seen her maybe three times since the wedding.

“Very much pregnant,” he said, his voice a mix of pride and weariness.

“Oh,” Y/N replied, taken aback. “I didn’t know. Congratulations, I guess.” Here comes another thing that Yoongi managed to keep from her.

“Thank you, my dear,” Seokjin said, a small smile touching his lips. “It’s been… an interesting journey, to say the least.”

“I can imagine,—” Y/N said, sensing there was more beneath the surface.

“Can you imagine yourself on that journey?” Seokjin interrupted, his gaze searching her face.

She pretended that the question took her by surprise, looking down at her hands to not give herself away.

“I don’t know,” she admitted softly. He is testing her. “It’s hard to think about that kind of future with everything that’s going on.”

Seokjin nodded, his expression thoughtful. “It’s understandable. But it’s something to consider. Maybe a baby would help you to shush your demons away.”

Y/N’s heart raced at the suggestion, and she forced herself to maintain her composure. “I… I don’t think a baby is the answer, Seokjin. There’s so much I need to sort out first.”

“Sometimes, having something to focus on, something to live for, can make all the difference,” Seokjin said gently.

She nodded, still feeling uneasy about the direction of the conversation. Opting not to give more than she would want to by not answering his remark and going back to finish the report.

“Just know that you have options. And that you don’t have to go through any of this alone.”

“Thanks,” she replied, offering a small smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Of course she won’t.

—

Y/N entered the dimly lit room where Yoongi was sitting, his face illuminated by the soft glow of a lamp. He looked up as she closed the door behind her, his expression softened once he looked up from the papers. The office in the sanctuary remained the same apart from the fact that now the young Kkangpae occupies it far more often than before.

He took his glasses off and pushed himself away from the desk creating a space for her to come and stand in front of him, leaning against the massive wooden desk. Her hands felt the warmth of the wood that had been heated by the lamp, reflecting the same heat that radiated between them.

“Did you ask Seokjin to put thoughts into my head?” she asked, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her.

Yoongi sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t ask him to, but I knew he would at some point try to give you some wisdom. What did he say?”

“That a baby would be the right treatment for me,” she replied, her voice tight with frustration.

Yoongi’s eyes widened slightly, then he closed them and exhaled deeply.

“I’m sorry, Dove—“

“Do you think that too?” she asked, searching his face. “That a baby would magically fix everything?”

Yoongi shook his head, stepping up from his chair and closer to her. “No, I don’t. A baby isn’t a solution to our problems—“ she didn’t believe one word that was coming out of this mouth. He wouldn’t break his knuckles this hard if he didn’t want the baby that Y/N took care of not happening anytime soon. Her system was full of herbal remedies. And now that she knows, the herbs flowing in her system are working, she can use that to her advantage.

“But that would make you happy right?” She countered, seeing through him. Softening her mimics to appeal to him.

“Well, yeah, I want a family with you someday—“

“Someday? The bandages on your knuckles says that you’re pretty eager to have it now—” she scoffed and murmured under her nose.

Yoongi’s eyes for once reflected something she couldn’t quite recognise. There was a mix of desperation and longing that flickered there. His hand reached out, trembling slightly, and cupped her cheek gently.

“Dove, I want us to be happy, truly happy. But I know bringing a child into this world won’t erase your pain or solve our problems. We need to fix ourselves first—” His thumb brushed her cheek tenderly.

“I’m sorry for being selfish, my love,” she felt a tear escape her eye, rolling down to where his thumb could catch it. She closed her eyes for a moment, leaning into his touch because that’s what always softens his edges.

After months, she has learnt what strings to pull to make him move just the way she wants to. Yet, Y/N knows that he isn’t that stupid to believe she suddenly wants to live with him happily ever after.

“I can pour us some wine. We can play the piano after dinner, hm?” He could feel her vulnerability, her heart laid bare before him. Or so he thought as she wanted him to think that. His hand continued to caress her cheek softly, his touch gentle yet laden with unspoken longing she sensed each time he attempted to get closer to her.

She nodded, a small pretentious smile playing on her lips as she stepped closer to him. The tension between them lingered.

He pulled her closer, his lips brushing against her forehead. “We will be good. We just need time with each other.”

He sat first, patting the space beside him, inviting her to join. Her fingers brushed the keys, eliciting a soft, mournful note. A melody that echoed in her mind far too often. An anthem for hurting. Weeping symphony, tears of sorrow.

He became far too respectful towards her boundaries which essentially was ruining all of her plans. Her fingers pressed the keys with delicate touch even when she wanted to smash them rock hard.

“Why this song?” She let the question hang in the air for a moment, her fingers poised above the keys as if weighing his words.

“Do you know what they interpret it as?” She finally said, her voice soft, barely audible above the lingering notes. Her eyes, once masked with a facade of calm, now revealed a flicker of the anguish she carried.

“Tell me,” he flipped the page of the notes book for her to continue the song.

“It’s a tale of unspoken grief, of wounds too deep to heal and shadows that never leave.”

He felt a shiver run down his spine as she said that. Part of him understood what message she was trying to leave and part of him wished he’s wrong.

“I view it as love lost and dreams shattered. They say it’s a lament for those who wander through life carrying burdens no one else can see.”

He carefully listened to all her words, all the notes she played, all her feelings she shared. Her fingers moved over the keys, each note a whisper of sorrow.

“The scars I carry inside,—“ His hand reached out to touch hers, a gesture of comfort. Stopping her from playing more.

“Let me help you carry that weight—“

“You created it in the first place.”

His eyes widened, a mixture of guilt and realisation flooding his expression. She pulled her hand away.

“The scars I carry, the emptiness I feel, they all trace back to you.”

His mind raced to comprehend the depth of her pain, trying to understand her intentions. It’s not like he ever expected her to say it out loud.

“You created emptiness in me Yoongi—“

He felt his heart clench with guilt and regret. “I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice cracking. It was nothing new. She heard his apologies but she was yet to accept them

She turned back to the piano, her fingers resting on the keys but not playing. “Intentions don’t change the past,” she said softly. “The pain remains—“

“But the future can learn from mistakes.”

“I will. I’ll learn—“ He began before she interrupted him.

“You need to fill the space now.” His eyes lit up listening to her words. In his mind, this was it. The holy grail. In her mind, she was wrapping him around her finger before she would bounce away like a pebble on the pond.

“Heal me if you must.”

These were her last words before the distance between them shrank, the intensity of their emotions drawing them closer. He leaned in, his heart pounding in his chest that she could almost hear it but Y/N didn’t pull away.

Their lips met in a soft, tentative kiss, a delicate brush that spoke of apology, of yearning, and of promises yet to be fulfilled. Her heart cried and the song remained echoing in her mind.

As they pulled back slightly, their foreheads resting against each other, Yoongi felt a warmth spread through him, chasing away the cold shadows of regret. She looked at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears. His thoughts were swirling with one thing only — this was the real beginning of them. And it was the beginning.

The beginning of the end.

I N T E R L O G U E

The walls were lined with bookshelves, each shelf overflowing with dusty tomes and old papers. A large, ornate desk stood in the centre, its surface cluttered with stacks of documents.

Seokjin rarely sends her to this room as they also rarely stay in the hanok the sanctuary has for medical assistance to those who live here.

She approached slowly, her fingers brushing over the worn leather of a chair before settling on a stack of yellowed files that he asked to bring. It was then when her eyes caught the opened crimson red files that laid flat open on the desk. The ones that the doctor forgot to take with him the other time he had to run and tend to the lady of the house in the middle of the night. They stayed there, laid open, for several weeks. Touched by a thin layer of dust on top of it.

Kim Seokjin is renowned in his field of practice. Yet, this was going to be his great mistake. Inside, there were detailed medical records, notes written in a precise, almost mechanical hand. The words on the pages made her stomach churn—phrases like “prefrontal lobotomy,” “behavioural correction,” and “psychosurgical intervention” leapt out at her. She read on, horrified by the cold, clinical descriptions of procedures that seemed more like torture than treatment.

Her hand flew to her mouth to not let the wailing cry away.

Trembling, she pushed the file aside and reached for the next one. Not bearing what they’ve done to her sister. Y/N’s hands shook as she read through the files, each word a dagger to her heart. The clinical detachment with which the procedures were described made her feel sick. These were not just medical records—they were accounts of inhuman experiments carried out in the name of science, or more so — control.

The name on this file was all too familiar, it was Jin’s wife. He must have done it before the wedding as she seemed far too calm. Her heart pounded in her chest as she opened it, fearing what she might find. The contents were similar—detailed accounts of medical procedures, records of a lobotomy performed in a desperate attempt to “cure” her of what the notes described as “hysteria” and “unmanageable behaviour.”

Y/N felt a wave of nausea wash over her. She stumbled back from the desk, her mind reeling from the revelations. The room seemed to close in around her, the shadows deepening as the weight of what she had discovered settled on her shoulders.

The name on the empty file under those made her anxious, hysteric even more as the tag had Min Y/N written on it.

She wiped her tears but they couldn't stop falling.

“Y/N?”

.

.

.

tag list: @beautifulcloudfestival - @honsoolgloss - @jingerbreadoutofstock - @moscow778 - @januara26 - @dinosolecito - @yoongislatinagff - @xyahrinx - @hi12345567 - @nochuel - @deltamoon666 - @bbkissme99 - @darkuni63 - @nansasa - @sazsazsaz - @missmin - @strxwbloody - @royallyjjk - @jaiuneamesolitaiire - @shadowyjellyfishfest - @bbgniecyy - @elayne321 - @seojunandsoju - @bun-27 - @whipwhoops - @wobblewobble822 - @whofan88 - @haneyyyyyy - @lostgirlinthewoodss - @secfir - @btspurplesky - @elleflying07 - @pamzn - @megseungmin - @selenophileforlife - @idkjustlovingbts - @seonghwaexile - @catlove83

[williamrikers]

On the subject of consent in recent BLs

In this analysis, I will take a look at several love scenes in recent Thai BLs, how they frame consent and the sexual agency of the characters, and why those matter.

(KinnPorsche deserves its own post: I’m sure people have already written in detail about how much emphasis is placed on issues of consent/non-consent throughout the show and how fundamental consent is to the relationship arcs of both KinnPorsche and VegasPete, and I won’t belabor the point here. Also, special shout-out to The Warp Effect for what it brought to the conversation about gay sex, but TWE isn’t technically a BL so I decided not to include it in this analysis.)

I am going to take a closer look at the following shows in this essay: Not Me, The Eclipse, A Boss And A Babe, Step By Step, and La Pluie.

Not Me and The Eclipse predate the other shows by two years/one year respectively, but I feel it is valuable to include them here because both show very explicit negotiations of consent that I feel are spiritual successors to the wonderful scenes we’ve been getting in the other three shows.

Why am I even writing this? There used to be an unfortunate tendency in the genre to have a power imbalance between the “seme” and the “uke” character, which translated into the seme deciding when to have sex and what kind of sex to have—and even though recently, several shows have done good work in dismantling the seme/uke dynamic and questioning the associated stereotypes, it cannot be denied that the archetypes are still an important part of most BLs, and even in cases where the tropes are played with and questioned, understanding those subversions still requires a knowledge of and familiarity with the original tropes on the part of the audience.

However, gone are the days of Until We Meet Again and Dean’s “I’ve waited long enough, make sure you’re ready.” (I enjoyed UWMA a lot but that was. Yeah. Not Great.) Now, we see characters actually talking about and negotiating their limits, and doing what feels good to them.

Let’s start from the very beginning. Not Me was an absolute trailblazer in this regard, and not mentioning it here would be a gross oversight. The first time Sean and White have sex, it happens in their version of the beach episode. (Which, in Not Me, is the two characters briefly living in a tent inside an abandoned building. This show is the best.) Sean and White are removed from their usual environment and protected from the outside world by two barriers: the walls of the old house and the tent that’s literally enveloping them and giving them a space that is unequivocally theirs, shared, in which neither one of the characters has any sort of power over the other. And what happens in that space when they’re about to have sex is extremely interesting: the first thing Sean asks is whether White is afraid of him, which White denies. The following exchange goes like this: White: "So, what are we doing?" Sean: "What should I do to you?" White: "That’s up to you." (Watch the whole scene here.)

I find this exchange incredibly meaningful because this already turns the seme/uke dynamic that can be found in a lot of other shows on its head. OffGun as a branded pair can easily be stereotyped into the seme/uke dynamic just because of their physical appearances, and clearly spelling out that both characters have agency in this scene is incredibly important.

And then it gets better! Sean assumes that White is sexually inexperienced (which is not true but the fact that White was actually in a relationship with a woman back in Russia never comes up again after the pilot episode, so maybe the show expects us to assume this, too), and suggests they try different things and White can tell him what he likes and doesn’t like. Compared to the stuff we’re getting now, this scene isn’t very high heat at all, but it’s one of my favorite intimate scenes ever because them asking each other “Do you like this?” after every kiss, every touch, is so incredibly unique and transports a wonderful sense of figuring out sexual pleasure together, as a couple.

Sex in Not Me is not something one character does to another, it is something that is discovered and shared together, and we even get an afterglow scene in which they gently tease each other about their fast beating hearts. (And don’t get me started on the importance of White choosing to ask Sean whether Sean is okay with White not being like Black in that moment right before they have sex, because he doesn’t actually want to have sex with Sean as Black! He wants to discover and share intimacy with Sean as White, as himself, not as his brother! The layers!)

Anyway, I think that scene paved the way for a lot of the conversations around consent we’re now getting in BL, just because it is so explicitly, unashamedly putting forward a definition of sexuality that has nothing to do with one character actively giving and the other passively receiving, but frames intimacy as something that is built together. (More on giving and receiving later!)

Now, moving on to The Eclipse. I decided to include the first time Akk and Aye have sex for a different reason: while we don’t really see them actually talking about consent, we see them practicing non-verbal consent. Let me explain. Akk’s and Aye’s whole thing is teasing each other. At first, Aye is usually the one doing the teasing, but Akk gets the hang of it towards the end of the show and teases his boyfriend right back. When they’re in Akk’s childhood bedroom together, Aye clearly alludes to the fact that he thought they might use this opportunity to have sex for the first time, which Akk pretends not to understand, all while alluding to it himself. I love this guy. (Watch the whole scene here.) Anyway, Akk says he wants to sleep, lies down and once again, tells Aye jokingly he just wants to sleep, clearly expecting Aye to do what other BL protagonists do at that point and not take no for an answer (sidenote: I HATE the “saying no as foreplay” trope with a passion and as far as I’m concerned it should die already).

However, Aye is not like other BL love interests, and he backs off. He stops touching Akk, lies down with his back to Akk, showing Akk that he takes him by his word: if Akk says he wants to sleep, Aye is going to let him do just that. So now, it’s on Akk to say that, no, that’s not what he meant, can Aye please come back to cuddle. And then Akk is the one to escalate from cuddling to kissing, which is extremely important: we know that Aye has been ready to have sex with Akk since forever, it’s Akk who’s been having hangups about intimacy this whole time.

They don’t put consent into so many words on this show, but Aye shows Akk that he respects his limits and that Akk only has to tell him he doesn’t want to do something and Aye will take him at his word.

So, these are, to me, two foundational scenes of establishing consent: one that shows consent as something that is established verbally, as an ongoing conversation, and one that shows consent as something that is established physically, by showing your partner that you respect their choices and limits by way of simply acting accordingly.

Now, let’s get into the fun part: scenes we got so far in 2023. I’m writing this post on the 13th of June, and I’m sure this year still has some great things in store for us, especially because Step By Step and La Pluie are both ongoing and neither of the main couples are actually together yet at time of writing. However, they’ve both already given us AMAZING scenes on the topic of consent, so I feel it is worthwhile to write about those already.

I want to start off by talking about A Boss And A Babe.

Let me just preface this by saying that the intimate scenes in ABAAB are some of my all time favorites in BL ever, because in them, sex is something that is just so normal. When Gun and Cher have sex, we don’t see them very passionate, excited, reluctant or wide-eyed innocent (which are some of the emotions traditionally associated with sex in BL). On the contrary, in every single scene that shows them being intimate, both characters are incredibly calm. They’re certainly happy to be with each other, but in a subdued way. Someone described their second intimate scene as them seeming like they’ve been married for a few years. They’re both just… incredibly normal about having sex with each other. It’s simply something they like to do together. It’s a part of their romance but it’s not more or less important than any other aspects of their lives.

And consent is at the very heart of it.

When Gun and Cher have their first time, we see Gun explicitly asking for consent two times: first, “Can I kiss you?”, then, “Can I do more?” The second one even comes with the promise that if Cher says no, Gun will immediately go to sleep without mentioning it again. And then it is on Cher to say yes, to pull Gun close and kiss him to show him that he is comfortable with taking things further. (In the show, these two questions were shown apart from each other, I cut together a version of the whole First Time Scene in its entirety, watch it here.)

Now, things get more interesting: the second intimate scene shows Cher initiating the encounter (watch the whole scene here). Cher pretty consistently falls into the uke category, both physically and as far as characterization is concerned, but he’s certainly not shy in the bedroom. And this time, he’s the one who asks for consent from Gun: Gun asks “You’re starting it?” and Cher’s response is “Can I?” Despite him being framed physically lower than Gun, basically at Gun’s mercy, he still seeks confirmation that Gun is okay with the way things are going. Not to overstate it, but to me, this feels revolutionary. Once again, we’re being shown that sex is something two people do together, as a shared activity, and that the “seme” character isn’t expected to just be up for it. He, too, has the right to say no.

On this show, sexual agency is taken extremely seriously, and it is clear that both Gun and Cher give each other space to decide what they’re comfortable doing. This is shown in non-intimate scenes as well: there are so many moments on ABAAB in which the characters negotiate physical touch and closeness, asking each other for hugs before actually hugging each other, Cher leaning on Gun’s shoulder in the car but not allowing Gun to touch him because that’s not what he’s comfortable with in that moment, and so on. (The only exception to this otherwise pretty consistent rule is the kiss in the car scene, which I’m still extremely confused about because it seems to go completely against Gun’s character. Who knows what happened there.)

Of course, the fact that so much emphasis is placed on negotiation and consent isn’t surprising on a show that has such obvious kink undertones and whose Our Skyy 2 entry basically consisted entirely of Dom/sub roleplay at work—I’m just saying, I think someone on the writing team is way into BDSM and knows all about the importance of enthusiastic consent from all parties involved, and I would like to send them flowers.

Step By Step hasn’t really reached the point where we can analyse the dynamic between the main couple (although we can take some educated guesses based on the interactions we’ve seen so far). However, last week’s episode had an extremely important scene between Pat and Put: Pat wanting to have sex with Put, then changing his mind mid make-out (watch the whole scene here). I really like the way this scene was done. No matter how shitty Put treats Pat at times, in this instance, he immediately understood and respected Pat’s change of mind without Pat even saying or explaining anything—at the end of the episode, Put says to Pat that Pat should tell Put when he feels ready to have sex. (We already know this will never happen because of course, Pat and Put are not endgame, but I do appreciate the sentiment.)

BLs rarely include a whole storyline in which the protagonist is in an actual, serious romantic relationship with someone other than his endgame love interest (hi Moonlight Chicken!), or if they do then just to up the angst factor. In this case, however, I feel that this scene raises our expectations for Jeng even further: if the guy who is definitely not a romantic match for Pat treats Pat with this much respect in the bedroom, then Jeng has to do at least that and then some. I do feel confident that Jeng won’t disappoint in this regard, but it’s fascinating to see a show frame this kind of respect as the absolute baseline minimum, with the endgame love interest expected to do even better.

Now, the one you’ve all been waiting for. The one that made me write this whole essay in the first place: La Pluie.

Oh boy. Where to start.

A week ago, we got an incredible make-out scene on Saengtai’s floor, which ended in Patts stopping the encounter because he could tell Tai wasn’t really comfortable taking things further—@bengiyo talked about that scene in detail here. And then, three days ago, La Pluie gave us the most unique, trope-defying, timeline-changing blowjob scene of all time, and I want to talk about it.

Tai and Patts are making out on their bed, Tai is not ready to go “all the way” and stops Patts from undressing him. We see a very realistic frustrated reaction from Patts, who nevertheless immediately stops and accepts Tai’s wishes—it is clear that Patts does not expect things to go any further at this point, and that he won’t pressure Tai into anything.

And then, Tai offers to blow him.

(Unfortunately, this show is only on iQiyi so I can't link to it, but you can get a good impression of the scene here.)

I mentioned the concepts of giving and receiving earlier: other people have said this more eloquently than me, but there is a tendency not only in BL but also in wider society to view sex in terms of giving and receiving, with a lot of expectations and stereotypes attached to the roles during different sexual acts. On other shows, that blowjob might be framed as a consolidation or an apology, something that the giver does out of a sense of obligation without enjoying it much. Not so on La Pluie! Tai is shown incredibly happy and satisfied afterwards, both when they’re sleeping next to each other, as well as on the morning after (see also @ginnymoonbeam's post about that here). Tai offered to blow Patts because he simply wanted to, not motivated by guilt or anything of that sort. And he genuinely enjoyed it! In the post I linked above, @bengiyo points out that La Pluie consistently centers queer desire, or more specifically in this case, male desire for a male body; much in the same way that the camera fucking loves Force’s body on ABAAB: the sensuality of the skin, the hands, the abs, the flat chests, the broad backs and shoulders of these men is explicitly emphasized, and Tai’s desire for a dick in his mouth is made absolutely crystal-clear. Of course, since this is a TV show and not a porno, we only see Patts’s thumb in Tai’s mouth instead of his dick, but the imagery, the implications, are clear as day.

And it is such a gentle framing, too: Patts caresses Tai’s lip lovingly, Tai opens his mouth slowly, seductively, then faces Patts’s crotch with a soft look on his face. We do get a clear sense of this encounter as tender, and gentle, and most of all, desired. Tai’s queer desire is at the heart of this scene, and at the heart of the afterglow scene as well. He wanted this man’s dick in his mouth, openly suggested it, showed Patts he was sure about his decision after Patts asked him whether he was, and ended up clearly happy and satisfied with the sex they had. This post, also by @bengiyo, goes into more detail on that.

This, once again, shows us sex as a conversation rather than a series of predetermined acts, shows us sex as a shared activity, as something that can be wonderful and intimate and make people happy without following what society views as “the correct steps”. I think this is extremely important because one part of queer identity is figuring out one’s own relationship to sexuality, one’s own desires and needs, and BLs that ignore this aspect fall a little short in my opinion. Sure, those men are kissing, but do they experience queer desire? Do they experience joy in their queer desire?

For me personally, a show that does not shy away from these questions is a lot more meaningful than a show that does, and consent is at the heart of it all. By framing sex as a conversation, as something that is built and shared together, the shows I looked at here are actively positioning themselves against the idea that there should be predetermined roles for partners during sex, and instead suggest that queer joy can be found in communication and consent. Understanding sex and intimacy as something that is built together, with both partners as equals in conversation, is just as radically queer as a man waking up with a smile on his face after giving his soulmate a blowjob the previous night.

And quite honestly, a male character who clearly, passionately, unquestioningly communicates that he wants a dick inside of him—that is incredibly sexy. But maybe that’s just me.

[dreamtoge]

Impossible

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x GN!Reader - fluff & slight hurt/comfort

WC: 2k

a/n: lovesick gojo with a lovesick reader>>>

the notion of Satoru Gojo finding love was something that made others laugh in mockery.

how could the strongest possibly find love? they wondered who would put up with his incessant clingy behavior, his week-long missions, or the several unofficially adopted children he had. the list of how unlovable Satoru was could go on. he himself believed the thought as well.

the possibility of finding someone to irrevocably love him was simply impossible. it was a passing thought on good days, but kept him awake on bad ones. because despite what many say, Satoru was but a mere human. a human that craved love in such an intimate way yet knew he was forever meant to be alone. what foolish person would love him, and how foolish would he be to allow someone to love him?

they would be nothing but a weakness; someone to comfort him when his eyes hurt a little too much and when the pressure of his occupation seemed to weigh a little heavier. but they would be a vulnerability; curses, enemies, and the higher-ups would immediately find them; use them for their own selfish desires.

the notion of someone loving Satoru Gojo was simply impossible.

until he found you.

strong, fierce, and kind. you walked in on a rainy, bleak day as thunder cracked in the sky. you, he found, drenched from head to toe, hair sticking to your forehead messily, and yet, you were smiling.

he thought you were weird. what kind of person goes through such a hassle and smiles? even he would be visibly frustrated, despite smiling through hardships himself.

that was the first day you met Satoru Gojo. and the rest was history.

you broke down his walls, forced him to accept that he loved you, and promised him he could trust you; trust that you would never be a weakness, rather, you would be his strength. it was a lengthy process, but one year later you are still together and happier than ever.

“Sensei, why do you look so happy today?” Itadori asks curiously, head tilting as he watches Satoru beam at him.

Satoru looks around, seemingly trying to find something. “What do you mean, Yuji? I’m always this happy!”

Nobara looks somewhat disgusted with his joy, “Yeah, except you look like you’re about to descend into the sky any second now.”

the students are standing near the entrance, as per Satoru’s request. he claimed there was someone important he needed to greet under any circumstances.

“His partner is coming back from their mission today.” Megumi interrupts, looking rather stoic, though even he is also disturbed by Satoru’s behavior.

Megumi had known you, of course. he, too, had warmed up to you fairly quickly. you were joy in a person, though that did not stop you from being strong and knowledgeable. you were someone that not only meant a lot to Satoru, but meant a lot to Megumi.

“Partner?! Since when did you have a partner, Sensei?” Itadori seems to have stars in his eyes; if he had a tail it would be wagging.

Satoru giggles; he giggles. the three students pause at the sight, “Well… that’s a story for another time! Actually, they should be here any-”

“Satoru!”

four heads whip to you, looking rather happy for someone with cuts lacing their skin and bruises trailing up their arms. you wave, smiling giddily as you make eye contact with Satoru.

his eyes widen, mood dampening immediately as he stalks over to you with quick steps. his grin has vanished, his eyes scanning your form with a deep frown.

he lightly places his hands on your waist, “Baby… you need to see Shoko right now. Let’s go.” he turns to walk but you pull his arm, turning him back around.

“But I just got here, can’t I get a kiss first?” you pout. he sighs, bending down and pecking your lips softly.

“Okay, I kissed you. Now let’s go before I throw you over my shoulder and bring you there myself.”

you smile endearingly at his behavior, knowing he was simply worried and that you would be the same had the roles been reversed. “Okay, just let me greet the other students first, please?”

he stares at you intensely as you look up at him with wide eyes. a wordless battle for who will win before he breaks eye contact and exhales, knowing it was always a losing battle with you. and that was okay, he supposed. he would lose to you a thousand times over if it meant you were happy.

“Fine, quick introductions, and then we’re leaving.” he sulks, and you nod with a smile before tip-toeing and kissing his lips. he stands behind you as you turn to the students, hands wrapping around your waist gently as he holds you close.

you bow slightly, ignoring the shooting pain in your back and Satoru who is glaring at you from behind, “It’s nice to meet you, I’m [Name], Satoru’s partner. I’ve heard a lot about you, Itadori and Nobara.”

the two are simply looking at you with slacked jaws, not exactly comprehending a word you say. Satoru grumbles behind you as he knows they are simply stumped at your beauty. a fact that both boosts his own ego for having such a beautiful partner and yet frustrates him for the attention you gain due to how breathtaking you truly were.

you glance at Megumi with a sweet smile, “It’s also good to see you Megumi, let’s catch up later, okay?”

he nods, moving closer as you lift your hand to pat his head. “You should really head to Shoko now. Don’t worry about us.”

“I always worry about you! But you’re right, I should go before Satoru drags me there.”

you wave at the first years as you hold Satoru’s hand, him pulling you away as you shout out, “I’ll see you guys later!”

he walks with fast steps, causing you to stumble a little before he catches you. he moves his face closer to yours, standing for a moment, “Sorry, I’m just worried. Do you want me to carry you?” he asks with a cheeky grin, though the question is genuine. you breathe out a small laugh, “I get it, baby. No need though, we’re almost there.”

he nods, moving to walk again, but this time slower as he glances at you from the side. the two of you arrive, Shoko quickly patching you up and instructing you to rest for at least twenty-four hours before any practicing or missions.

Satoru nods seriously beside you as he listens, and you sigh fondly at the action. the way he behaved when around you was far too sincere compared to his usual flamboyant demeanor, and the thought makes your heart flutter.

the two of you walk back to his room, hand in hand as you swing your arms back and forth.

“Stop that, you’re going to reopen your wounds.” Satoru reprimands gently, and you stick your tongue out at him in response. he shakes his head with a chuckle, head bending down slightly and kissing your temple. once reaching the room, he opens the door and lets you walk in first. you slip your shoes off as he locks the door, taking in the familiar space after a month of being away, before you feel arms wrap around your waist once more.

you lean into his warmth, “Miss me?”

“I always do.” his head dips, trailing kisses up your neck. you tilt your head, allowing him more access as he pulls you closer, albeit still gently, and sucks softly where your pulse is. your breath hitches, and you turn to face him as he grabs your cheeks, cradling your head with care and pressing your lips to his own.

the sound of lips smacking fills the room as you walk backwards, legs tripping on an item of clothing on the floor as you tumble on the bed behind you.

you part from the kiss as you lay down, Satoru bracing himself above you as his flexing arms come into view.

“What did I tell you about not putting away your clothes?” you scold, but all Satoru does is smile fondly at the domestic question.

“Not to do it?”

you exhale beneath him, “Exactly.”

he chuckles, head bending down to kiss your cheek, nose, and forehead repeatedly before you’re a giggling mess and pushing him away. “Let’s change and cuddle, I’m so fucking tired and if I’m not in your arms within the next five minutes, I’m going to lose my mind.”

Satoru grins at your words, “Seems like you miss me too, huh.”

you sit up and begin unbuttoning your outfit, “Of course I missed you! I haven’t seen my boyfriend in a month, that’s way too long. I even miss your stupid habit of leaving clothes around everywhere.”

Satoru throws one of his large shirts beside you, and you pick it up before slipping into it. you watch as he removes his clothes, trying not to eye the ripple in his muscles as he stretches his arms above his head.

“It just feels empty without you.”

you crawl into the bed, bare legs sliding against the soft comforter and sighing as you sink into the pillows. all you needed now was Satoru. he climbs in next to you immediately, looking down at you before pecking your lips once more.

you smile into the kiss, hands making their way behind his head as you untie his mask. it falls off gracefully, and you stare as you watch him blink slowly, sapphire irises coming into view. you pull his face closer, kissing his eyelids as he blinks with each kiss.

“I’m here now,” he whispers, smile wavering as he continues, “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there with you.”

you shake your head at him, “That was out of your control, ‘Toru. I don’t blame you. Plus, I can handle myself, even if I did miss you like crazy.”

“What can I do to make it up to you?” he moves his face back to your neck, teeth scraping at the sensitive skin as you mewl.

“Just... stay.”

you breathe a sigh of happiness, pushing lightly at Satoru’s chest to look at him. “Stay with me. For tonight; for eternity.”

he smiles, looking enamored with you, and you feel your heartbeat stutter.

“That’s not something you have to worry about, pretty. You’re stuck with me forever, no one could take me away from you. Not even you.”

you roll your eyes with a breathless laugh, and Satoru kisses your lips one last time before holding you close. you move to lay your head on his chest, falling asleep to the comforting sound of his heart.

Satoru watches your eyelids slowly stop blinking as you succumb to sleep, feeling his chest throb at the sweet sight. as he glances at your hand intertwined with his own, he reminisces of a time when he thought such a pure love was impossible.

impossible for him, at least.

but here you were, clad in one of his oversized cotton t-shirts with messy hair splayed on his chest; you, who defied all odds.

you, who had treated Megumi as if he were your own child the moment you met him. you, who showed up during one of Satoru’s harder missions and helped him defeat the curse simply because you missed him and wished to spend time with him. you, who could handle yourself in battle to the point Satoru would brag about you to other teachers.

as for his habits, your needs aligned with his own, craving skin-to-skin contact, and daily calls where you talked about the mundane things in life. Satoru cherished the times when you would look at him with nothing but pure, undeniable love, caressing his face with a gentleness that he has only ever experienced with you.

in the end, Satoru Gojo finding love was no longer a mere passing thought. it was something real; his reason for getting up each morning, his reason for attending meetings on time. and most of all, his reason for coming home completely unscathed to see you.

and as he gazes at you one last moment before closing his eyes, one thought comes to mind.

it seemed his impossible love was not so impossible anymore.

[compacflt]

Rumors from Pearl Harbor.

When Admiral Kazansky first comes to Pearl, he brings with him about half of his previous staff, all exceptionally-hardworking people hand-picked over years—advisors, flag aides, secretaries, ranks all over the board. But his new hires, upon getting acquainted with the old guard, are shocked to discover that his previous staff still hardly knows him at all.

“He keeps to himself, mostly,” Lieutenant Commander Hartford explains over a pint. “I made the mistake of asking him once what he did for fun. You know, like, hobbies and stuff. He blinked at me for a second, and then said, ‘I read.’ That’s it! I read! My advice to you newcomers would be, don’t ask him questions about his personal life, because it tends to be pretty boring.”

“It sounds to me like he’s a walking, talking Wikipedia page,” says Captain Calvert, who worked for the previous two Pacific Fleet Commanders and thinks she knows how to deal with them by now. “We owe it to ourselves to figure him out. It’ll make our lives easier, anyway. So, let’s put our heads together: what do we know about him?”

What they know are his habits, which they’ll come to learn intimately over the next few years, and which are admittedly pretty boring. Admiral Kazansky is one of the first to show up to work in the morning and one of the last to leave in the evening. He often answers e-mails past 2300 hours, but never later than midnight. Jokes never catch him off-guard; he rarely smiles, and when he does, it has an ulterior motive. When he’s not working, he’s scheming and making plans to go back home to San Diego, and his requests for leave are always granted, because he works like a pack mule from home anyway. He signs off every e-mail with “Sincerely,”…

“Is he sincere, though?” asks Chief Warrant Officer Kent halfway through Admiral Kazansky’s first year. (Admiral Kazansky is surely unaware that his staff now spends the second Friday of every month chit-chatting about him over drinks in downtown Honolulu.) “I can’t ever tell. And he lives in Hawaii. San Diego’s nice, I know, but what’s so different about the beaches there that he can’t get here?”

“I genuinely don’t think he’s human,” confesses Commander Stoddard. “People warned me about that when I came here, and I laughed it off, but… he keeps his desk biologically sterile. Not one fingerprint, but I’ve never seen anyone wipe it down. I’ve looked through his drawers. Don’t judge me, I got curious. Everything squared away, like he’s goddamn Einstein or something. Have any of you ever seen him in his civvies?” No one has. “God damn it, where does he shop for groceries? No one’s seen him at a grocery store? Does he even own a pair of jeans? Does he wear his uniform to bed, too?”

“He probably goes grocery shopping on the whole other side of the island to avoid all the enlisted kids,” laughs Captain Calvert. “Come to think of it…you know how he always eats lunch in the office? It’s always a salad. And always the same kind of salad. This guy survives on one cup of coffee and one spinach salad a day. Maybe he really isn’t human.”

They build out their wealth of knowledge and come to learn that Admiral Kazansky is defined by his extremes, by what he always does and what he never does. Admiral Kazansky gets his uniforms dry-cleaned every week, though he never spills anything on them. No one has ever seen Admiral Kazansky stumble over his words while giving a speech, or trip over a sidewalk curb, or push a “pull” door. He is always polite and never friendly. Sometimes he is cold, and sometimes he is cruel in his patience with you when you’ve fucked up, like a cat toying with a hemorrhaging mouse. But he never raises his voice. He is always immaculately put-together, well-groomed, constructed every day like a product on an assembly line. Nothing is ever out of place. Allegedly his umbrella once turned inside-out during a rainstorm; he disdainfully shook it once, as a hunter might pump a loaded shotgun, and it flipped itself right-side-in again. The laws of physics do not seem to apply to him. Nor do the natural embarrassments that come with being human. Admiral Kazansky is never flustered, never harried, and never falls apart.

“I found this old picture of him shaking hands with another pilot on the Internet,” says Chief Warrant Officer Kent in Admiral Kazansky’s second year. “Smiling like the Cheshire Cat. Never seen him smile like that in all my years working with him. And he had frosted tips, too. Like Guy Fieri on a diet and steroids. It was the eighties, sure, but it’s like he knew how to have fun, once upon a time. Wonder what happened to him.”

“I feel lonely for him sometimes,” says Commander Stoddard. “Strict guy like that, no family, no friends, no wife, nothing to live for but the Navy? He’s like a workhorse with blinders on. Nowhere to go but forward. That’s a lonely existence.”

“Not if you’re a robot,” says Lieutenant Commander Hartford. “I swear, sometimes he breathes and it makes me jump, ‘cause I forgot he was alive!” —What else doesn’t Admiral Kazansky do?

That’s when they realize that none of them, not the old guard nor the new, has ever, not once, ever seen or heard Admiral Kazansky sneeze.

And they all finally give up the game and quit arguing and agree that, no, he really isn’t human after all. He must be some cyborg from the future sent to whip the Pacific Fleet into shape, and you can’t ask for too much humanity from someone who’s doing a pretty damn good job of it.

The rumors start soon after that. Jokes that could get them all tossed out of the Navy, but probably won’t. Jokes that accidentally spread like wildfire.

Yes, Admiral Kazansky could be a cyborg, but he also could be a Mormon fundamentalist, or a Scientologist, or a really weird Catholic. Maybe he goes home to San Diego so often because in his spare time he’s really a mule ferrying cocaine across the Mexi-Cali border. That’s what he does for fun. He eats spinach salads because he’s a reincarnation of Popeye the Sailor Man, and he needs all the super-strength he can get to deal with the Navy’s modern-day bullshit.

“I don’t know if that story makes sense,” laughs Captain Calvert on the phone with her husband in Washington, “but it makes more sense than the real Admiral Kazansky does!”

So the rumors get spread around.

“I don’t know if you know this,” Maverick comments, watching Ice make their bed from the relative comfort of the bedroom doorway, “or if I should tell you this, because you might crack down on it, which would be a shame, ‘cause it’s funny. But every time you send a mass e-mail to the Pacific Fleet commissioned officer corps, you become the main topic of conversation between all of us officers for a solid day and a half.”

“Oh?” says Ice with a smile, struggling to fit the last corner of the fitted sheet to the mattress. He sighs, tugs on the strings of his old ratty-ass hooded sweatshirt, and looks at Maverick balefully through his glasses. “Help me out over here, would you? —What are people saying? All good things, I hope.”

“Not really,” Maverick says, stuffing a pillow into a pillowcase as he stares out the window into the San Diego sunshine. “Some pretty crazy shit, actually. Hard as hell for me to keep a straight face. I heard this one—you know, people are saying you eat nothing but salads?”

“Oh,” laughs Ice, hospital-cornering the free sheet. “Yeah, that one’s kind of true. I bring salads in to the office sometimes.”

“You hate salads.”

“I know, it’s torture! Move over.” He bumps Maverick out of the way to tuck in the last corner. “But, I figure, if a man torments himself with spinach-and-arugula salads three times a week, you ought to respect his commitment. It’s all an act. You get to a certain Defense Department paygrade, it all starts being storytelling and stagecraft.”

“Or trickery and deception, depending on how you look at it.”

“Sure. But you could say that about everything. —Besides, I’d rather the Navy discuss my salads than discuss… well, this.” He gestures to Maverick, then down to the bed. They start tugging the comforter over it together. “How much slack you got over there?”

“‘Bout a foot.”

Ice pulls his side down a couple more inches to match, then flips the top up. “Is that it? That’s all people are saying about me?”

Maverick grins and bends down to pick up a pillow. “They’re also saying that you’re the reincarnation of Popeye the Sailor Man. I yam what I yam and that’s all what I yam, and all that. Think fast.”

Ice doesn’t think fast, and the pillow hits him square in the face, and he laughs again as he catches it in his arms. “Shit, that’s good,” he says; “I was just about to call Slider, think I’ll tell him that one. That’ll make him laugh. Popeye Iceman.” He tosses the pillow onto the made-up bed and pulls out his cell phone, but—then he frowns, grimaces, mutters “Ah, no,” and turns away to sneeze.

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Outfoxed: Final Part

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.4k

Summary: Derek has had enough and decides now is the time to work bringing you home. The team is working on two cases and stretching their agents thin but they'll do anything to bring you back into Spencer's arms.

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Season Five Masterlist

Author’s Note: I know I'm going to piss some people off with the way I wrote the trial and the gathering of evidence but remember, this is fiction and it's my story. I'm making it easy and convenient. I know this isn't how trials work.

I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them.

x

"This unsub is armed and suffering a major psychological break, and she will not hesitate to kill again. She's white and in her twenties. We believe she came to the US a few years ago. She's likely on foot. She could be Eastern European. She may speak little to no English."

"If you manage to apprehend or corner her, do not underestimate this woman. She will try to fight her way out. The Downeys live less than a mile from the Foresters which means she's somewhere in this area."

"Every media outlet is being informed of the clear and present danger to the public," JJ says.

"Thank you," Rossi concludes the meeting just as Penelope calls. He takes this to the conference room so she can be on speakerphone. "Hey, Garcia."

"Okay, I really might have got something. All of these photos, every one of them, were uploaded to a user website called Photobug. It's an app where people can upload photos and videos, email, and webcam chats. Every one of these families extensively used this site for months, even years."

"All these family photos were printed by Photobug?"

"Yes."

"Isn't it protected?"

"Not from the people who run it. It's a great way for military families to keep in touch and a perfect way to target a family without anybody's knowledge."

"They outsource work to people all over the country. So, I took your profile, hacked into their employee database, and came up with this list of potentials. One of which is a match that screams homicidal bitch. Her name's Miranda Dracar. She was an orphan, born in Sarajevo in 1982. She was adopted by a family in Srebrenica. The address is being sent now."

"Let's go," Rossi says.

Rossi, JJ, and Anne find her apartment easily but luck has it, she's not there. However, pictures of Miranda's victims are posted all over her walls.

"All three families are on here," JJ says.

"Look at this." Anne points out a picture of another military man. "Do you think this is her next victim? His name is Sergeant Eric Young."

"JJ, call your contact."

JJ takes out her phone and calls someone she knows will be able to help in figuring out who this man's family is.

"Hi, this is Jennifer Jareau with the FBI. Sir, I'm gonna need access to every piece of data on US Marine Sergeant Young. It may save his family."

Rossi calls Hotch and Emily to let them know of their progress, and Hotch is more concerned the longer they talk to Karl about the murders.

"I don't think this woman has anything to do with Karl," Hotch says once he gets off the phone.

"I encouraged him. Ohh. I flirted with him," Emily cringes. "I made it personal. Getting intimate with a killer is so different."

"It's what we do."

"Yeah, but there's no fixing how I feel right now, is there?"

"No, but it helped the case. You did what you had to do."

"Agent Hotchner," Karl says from the room knowing he can hear him. "Before you go, there's one final thing I'd like to share with you."

"Let's get this over with," Emily sighs.

Both of them walk back into the room and Karl smirks at them.

"You think you found my admirer? A woman?"

"No, we found the killer," Emily corrects.

"With my help, of course."

"Your admirer is exactly like everyone who contacts you--lost."

"My love, your guy is far from lost."

"Okay, we're done here," Hotch declares.

"So is he." Karl holds up a note he's been keeping secret. "Look at what I have done. It's quite brilliant, you know?"

"We will find whoever sent you that."

"No, Agent Hotchner, I rather think he's already found you."

Hotch can't deny the dread he's feeling from his words. Emily and Hotch's phone rings but only the former grabs her phone to check. They found the unsub. She fought hard to escape but was eventually shot by her own gun. Something snaps in Hotch and he starts going through every file Karl has, anything that will help him get the answers he needs.

"Hotch. Hotch!" Emily urges.

"I can't believe you can't see what he's doing," Karl laughs.

"What is going on?"

"He's torturing him."

"Who?"

"It's great to see you squirm, Agent Hotchner."

Hotch looks at Emily with fear in his eyes. "Foyet."

"He knew you'd come," Karl laughs.

This all comes down to Foyet, and Hotch knows if he is going to get his ass, he's gonna need you to come back. After the incident with Big Sue, Ashley has been left alone. Big Sue hasn't gone after anyone since she was kicked out of her own gang for not being tough enough. One of them tried inducing you but you politely declined.

You and Ashley are in the rec room playing a game of chess. She doesn't know how to play but you've been teaching her.

"I used to know how to play well when I was a kid but got out of it as I grew up. My boyfriend retaught me."

You smile at the memories of you two going against each other.

"He sounds sweet."

"He is. He keeps trying to visit me here. It breaks my heart every time I deny him."

"Why do you?"

"He has this beautiful mind that remembers everything he sees and reads. He can't forget. I don't want him to remember me this way. I can't look in his eyes and see this version of myself. Maybe that makes me selfish."

"No, I get it. I'd hate for my parents to see me like this. They've tried visiting but I told them after the first one I don't want them here. They write every day, though."

"That's nice," you smile.

"Y/N!" You look to your right and see a guard coming for you. "Trial time. We have a spare change of clothes in your cell for you."

"Thank you," you say and get up.

"Give 'em hell," Ashley grins.

"Keep your head up, Ash. Remember what we talked about." She nods. "If I am found innocent and I don't return, just know I'm going to do whatever it takes to get you out of here."

"Go, you have court," she smiles with tears in her eyes.

"I promise, Ashley. I'll get you out of here."

After getting changed into more professional clothing, you're escorted to Arlington General District Court. You're nervous since you've seen the evidence they have on you. It's going to be tough to prove your case but you're going to use everything you've got to persuade the judge. You sit next to your lawyer after the judge has sat down. You look at the jury and quickly read each and every one.

Bored. Scared. Excited. Nervous. If you act right and give them the truth, you believe they will side with you. Most juries are unanimous so it could be a long decision process if not everyone is on your side.

"This is the case of the Commonwealth of Virginia v Y/N. Ms. Y/N, how do you plead?" the judge asks.

"Not guilty, Your Honor."

"Present your case."

The prosecutor stands up since he is allowed to go first. He walks in front of the jury and begins his statement.

"Ladies and gentlemen, do not let looks fool you. What you see as a friendly woman is a stone-cold killer." You fight the urge to roll your eyes. "She murdered seven men in cold blood, and here is the evidence to prove it. On every single victim are her prints and her hair. On every single murder weapon are her prints. I have the results back from the lab here. I have a witness statement made by a man named Frank Livingston that explicitly saw her commit the crimes."

"Is your witness here today?" the judge asks.

The prosecutor becomes clammy and clears his throat nervously.

"No, Your Honor."

"Why not?"

"I was unable to locate Frank to be subpoenaed."

"Objection. That's hearsay, Your Honor," Steve interjects. "How can we accept that statement from the person if that person isn't here?"

"I will allow lab results submitted into evidence but not that witness statement. If your witness isn't able to show up, the statement is voided."

"Yes, Your Honor."

He finishes his opening statement about how you're such a bad person before taking a seat at the desk. Steven stands up and does the talking for you, trying to make it clear to the jury that you're innocent.

"Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury, I'd like to introduce you to Y/N. She is an FBI profiler for the BAU right here in Virginia. She started in the police force before moving up quickly to where she is now. She's aided hundreds of cases and given justice to those who were seeking it." Your lawyer holds up a file that has pieces of paper sticking out of it. "In here, I have letters from victims and their families thanking her for what she's done for them." You had no idea he did that for you. "The crimes she's accused of just isn't who she is. She helps instead of taking what she vowed to protect. The crimes in question occurred at night, the same nights she was safe in bed with her boyfriend. I have credit card statements that have already been submitted into evidence that show she is nowhere near the crimes when they were occurring." Steve goes on to talk about you in such a high tone, presenting everything he has that is in your favor. "Your Honor, if I may."

"Yes."

Steve walks all the evidence that's in your favor (it's not much) over to the judge who accepts it. Once they get the evidence out of the way, they'll go over the witnesses' statements before getting into their closing arguments. Steve doesn't have much in terms of evidence for you but the prosecuting attorney has plenty to put you away for a very long time.

Before he has a chance to end this part of the trial, the double doors into the courtroom are opened, and you look behind you to see your entire team file in. They all give you encouraging smiles until you see Spencer walk in. You briefly make eye contact with him before turning around to face the judge.

"Your Honor, if I may, I have more evidence to present."

"What is it?"

Steve walks over to Derek who hands him a file of more evidence in your favor. He looks through the file before taking out the ME reports that Derek had rushed. There is a TV in the corner of the room that can be used to show evidence, and he points to it.

"I'd like to request the use of the TV as I have video files to show as evidence."

The judge motions to the bailiff to roll the TV over to Steve so he can use it. You had no idea this was even happening. You knew they were working it but you didn't know they collected all this evidence... whatever it may be. You fight the urge to look back at them. You can feel his eyes on you.

"Your Honor and the jury, may I present to you, a video--CCTV footage of Y/N." He plugs the USB into the TV where the video of you walking into the hotel plays. He then shows the video of you in the gas station. It's grainy but it's clearly you." You get tears when you see the video of you and Spencer walking into the lobby holding hands. You miss that. "I have two of the four autopsies that were released for victims Juan Lopez and John Dimateo. The medical examiner put their deaths on the night that Y/N and her team checked into the hotel. They were dead a week before being found by police. She was on a case a few days prior to them being discovered, and I have the proof submitted by her Unit Chief."

The next video he shows is too dark to make anything out, but it's clear there is a man stabbing another man. You can't see any defining features on the man, but it's clear that the person on the video doesn't have your build. The crime scene photos of Chase Williams are also submitted side by side to show that it's the same alley he got stabbed in.

"Victims four and five, Eric Price and Jeffrey Rideback, as per the medical examiner report, have injuries that are too old to be when they say they died. They were dead long before they were ever found, and according to the ME report, two weeks. Two weeks before they were found, Y/N and her boyfriend Spencer Reid were out of town, and I have credit card statements and videos to prove it. Finally, video footage taken by a neighbor's camera pointed right at Y/N's apartment doors."

He plays the video that shows a man leaving your apartment with your hairbrush and two of the murder weapons in hand. You frown when you see the man's legs. It's a weird thing to think about but you've seen those legs before. You always knew that you knew the person who murdered the seven men because who else would hold a strong enough grudge against you than a person who knows you? Still, you can't put a name to it but if you had to guess, it's Frank Livingston. Why else would he lie about seeing you murder a man?

"This video shows a man leaving her apartment with two of the seven murder weapons and with a hairbrush that is used to leave behind her DNA on the victims. Victims she never knew or never had contact with. Ladies and gentlemen, Your Honor, Y/N is framed for murder and doing time for something she didn't do."

Steven does a good job, you have to admit. They just have a lot to speculate as soon as the day is over, and they come to a decision fairly quickly. That can be good or bad, depending on how you look at it. Either they find you so guilty that they didn't want to debate long or they weren't fooled and decided you were innocent. Either way, you're sitting on the edge of your seat when they return.

"We the jury find Y/N on account of murder innocent of all charges."

You don't care what they say afterward. All you care about is that they find you innocent. You're free to go. You don't have to go back to that hellhole of a prison. You hate leaving Ashley behind but you're going to do good by her and get her out of there as soon as you can. You walk over to your team who is cheering for your release, and the first person you run to is Spencer. He pushes aside the last two months of you not wanting to see him and accepts you into his arms, and you cry from how happy you are.

You're finally home.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[starshower1215]

AOT/SNK Veterans: Academic Headcannons (but Marauders-style/vibes!)

This is from an ongoing idea I had and a post I saw saying that the veterans are just AOT's version of the Marauders Era. It's for that 5% crossover in both fandoms.

Levi Ackerman is the Remus Lupin when it comes to playing pranks on the school. He lived the thug life (ATYD reference), he knows the ins and outs of not getting caught.

Hange Zoë is a bit Sirius Black. She actively searches for ways to prank, unlike Levi, and whenever he has the slightest idea, she is all over it, filling in the details and making the actual plans.

She loves to blow things up in classes and lectures, too. She has a streak for mischief.

Erwin Smith has James Potter's heroic streak, but Remus' study habits. He and Levi always pretend not to be amused by Hange and Mike Zacharias' prank ideas, but they find themselves participating for some unknown reason anyway.

Unfortunately, most Marauders content doesn't go into detail with Peter, because a lot of people hate Peter (young Peter is so innocent, though). Mike is now Peter Pettigrew because he sniffs and Peter is a rat (I just did them so dirty, I'm sorry).

Now I am imagining that instead of houses, the school is just split into the Military Police, the Survey Corps, and the Garrison. I am not sure what that means, though.

All four of them are known for their smarts, because what are the Marauders if not effortlessly [and infuriatingly] intelligent? Erwin is top of the class every time, and is often seen studying and putting the work in. Mike follows soon after, despite being seen as a slacker (nobody ever seems to be able to find him studying). Levi studies like a normal human being and passes with low A's. Hange doesn't really study, but she goes out of her way to apply the knowledge outside of lectures and classes; she may not have the best exam scores, but she knows the material the best (because the school system is broken).

Erwin always looks perfectly put together; necktie done, buttoned up to the throat like a loser (jk), his hair done as it usually is. He is unerringly civil with his peers and underclassmen, and people look up to him as some sort of star student.

Levi is the same in appearance, though with his blazer thrown stylishly over his shoulders instead of worn correctly (he took Hange's). He's seen as very aloof by his peers, but not unkind. Though I imagine he did bully Erwin (not entirely seriously) when they were younger. This amused Erwin to no end. He didn't care then, but now Levi is made fun of for it.

Mike looks fashionably disheveled, but not in the way that makes it look intentional (though, it may be intentional). His tie is a little loose, top few buttons undone, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The whole charade.

Hange looks unfashionably disheveled, but as is insisted upon by my biased mind, he's still really beautiful. He's one of those people who are only ever outside with their hair up; only Levi, Erwin and Mike (their dorm mates, I suppose) have ever seen him with his hair undone. It is oddly intimate, but nice.

Each of Hange's friends carries a spare pair of glasses for her, because she always breaks her own in the strangest of ways.

For their lunch hour, the four of them routinely congregate in the same bathroom because Levi makes them all wash their hands before leaving to actually eat.

Erwin and Hange are study buddies! They like to sit in the library as a pair and Hange will quiz Erwin because he cares about studying. He likes to study with her because she always has interesting things to add on, or she might be elaborating on a piece in the textbook and helping him understand better.

Of course, they do all sit in the library together. Erwin and Hange do their studying, Mike gets bored and bothers Levi, and Levi gets annoyed as he drinks his tea and reads a book.

They stargaze as a group in their dormitory, either at the windows or on the rooftops.

They also get drunk together and stumble home laughing on the weekends or on hot summer nights.

[soullessdianthus]

tangerine nsfw alphabet 😶

Author's note: Oh, how I missed writing for our beloved Tangerine. <3

Warnings: talk of ✨ s e x ✨

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

Tangerine will invite you into his opened arms, right after the act is done. He will keep telling you to hold onto him until you catch your breath. His hands gently rubbing against your inflamed skin. He will keep you warm for a while, before asking if you needed any drink or a warm shower.

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

He is really proud of his arms, hands and chest. He puts a lot of effort into his physical form, so each time you praise his broad, muscular torso or when you clung onto his arm - he's in heaven, Tangerine's absolutelylost. He is also very aware of his long fingers and what he can do with them to you.

If it comes to his partner, he is fixated on the legs of his lover, thighs and their softness to be exact. And the face - he adores the faces you make during such time.

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

I strongly believe that he likes to cum inside his partner whether they use protection or not. It's rather a marking thing (highlighting that you're his), than breeding kink. Cumming on their body is a whole mess, he doesn't want you to feel dirty.

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

When he's away, completing a contract in a different country, he likes to have your favorite pair of panties with him. Just to have your smell around and to imagine you're by his side.

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

Tangerine had a couple of partners before, but he tightly sticks to the current one, willing to learn what to do to give them pleasure. He certainly has a knowledge of 'what to do', he can surprisehis partner in the bedroom.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Tangerine is a rather dominating person so I would say that he prefers the position where he can take a lead, like leapfrog, classical missionary or the variant where he can put your legs over his broad shoulders? He absolutely doesn't mind you riding him into oblivion.

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

British man is rather serious during such intimate moments. Perhaps some phrase, that makes you giggle, will slip from his lips once or twice. He's more focused on the sensations in that moment.

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

Tangerine keeps his brown curls slick back with a gel, neatly combed backwards. Same applies to his mustache. So I strongly believe that he keeps the pubic area trimmed.

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

The most important thing for him during intimacy is for both participants to enjoy that time together. He will make sure both of you cum and that you're satisfied, before moving to different activities.

He savors the moment with you and all that comes with it. He enjoys discovering your bare body every time, showering you with compliments.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

When he's at home with his beloved one, he doesn't feel the need to jack off with you by his side (perhaps some exceptions occured if he was really horny and you were not in a mood).

However, when he's far away from home and his hand is all he got - he lets himself go. With your stolen panties in his grasp.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Tangerine has some hidden preference for power play, being the leading person in the bedroom (he's rather a switch than a dom in my opinion). So I think this man can actually be fucking over his head if you agree to bondage/shibari.

The sight of your upper half immobilized, each curve of your chest underlined, sends him into oblivion.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Bedroom, living room or dining room (over the table or a couch *COUGHS*), inside a shower cabin as a variation from time to time.

Basically, anywhere private. He's not a fan of public display. He needs his partner to feel 110% comfortable in the situation.

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

A good time spent with you, the sight of your bare body exposed only for him, the delicious sounds you might be making just because of his touch.

Basically, you.

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

Choking - absolutely he wouldn't want to do that, even if you begged him to. It's just too brutal for such an instance in his opinion.

And I believe he wouldn't want to have sex in a public place. It's just... uncomfy and derogatory.

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

Have you seen this man? He can eat you out like a champion. Tangerine truly enjoys giving his partner a head, seeing the shivers and spasm he can create on your body.

He likes to receive oral, like every men does, but he's more fixated on different things during sexy times than this.

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

Everything depends - what mood are you both in (have you just rejoined after his long business trip or have you been in a fight).

The times he wants to show you more affection and emphasize how precious you are to him - he will go slower, more gentle. But the setting changes when he's frustrated or angry.

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

He's not a fan of quickies. Tangerine likes to take his time with a lover. So it doesn't occur often. It's not a common occurrence.

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

He's willing to take risks and to try something new. The adrenaline is a part of him at this point, so it doesn't upset him.

However, he tries not to put his partner into a ton of stress.

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

This man is a freaking assassin, his endurance is much better than the average man on the street. He keeps training on a regular basis, so he is in for a long playtime.

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

He certainly has a few toys for his lover and loves to use them on the partner quite regularly - to boost the pleasure during intimacy.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Oh, he's quite a tease. He is that kind of person that will talk the dirtiest things right into your ear during some official gathering or in a restaurant, but will be pissed off if he has a taste of his own medicine.

Surely, he likes to edge you until you basicaly whimper and sob.

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

Tangerine's a loud man. He will grunt next to your head, sending shivers down your body. Also he groans and moans most of the time.

And he expects the same from you - not to hold back any lustful sounds.

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

British man tried a mirror sex once and he's absolutely turned on by the thought he is able to look at his lover's face and body while he fucks them from behind.

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

In length he's quite average (5'2/5'3), but his thicker shaft makes up for it.

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

Well, Tangerine's over thirty so I'd say - medium? He can get by without jerking off during the contract, but when he's with you? Back at home, his partner walking around in skimpy clothing? His vigor and sex drive is enhanced only by the sight of you.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He'll make sure you're alright after the make out session. Tangerine is a gentleman and will wait until you fall asleep. He won't fully relax until he sees his lover's chest rising up and down at a steady pace.

NSFW alphabet template: @the-coldest-goodbye

[bbyquokka]

hello! i recently found your blog and adore your writing and was wondering if you could write ot8 reaction to you getting your nipples pierced 👀 if you’re not comfortable writing all of them specifically felix, han, and lee know 💕

hii! im so glad you adore my content! thank you for your request and for being patient. i hope this is what you wanted. this is my first ot8 reaction so please let me know your thoughts and opinions on this! 💭

skz reacts to you getting your nipples pierced •°. *࿐

➥ pairing: all x fem!reader

➥ genre: smut [suggestive themes] MDNI

➥ synopsis: you get / have your nipples pierced.

➥ warnings: piercings, implications of nipple and breast play, photo taking during intimate moments - if i missed any, lmk!

➥ words: 1.6k

➥ have a request? send it to me here. read my rules to learn about my guidelines before submitting requests

➥ m.list – ➥ ao3

ʚ Bang Chan ɞ

He'd come with you to the piercing shop. He'd be holding your hand and watching with very beady eyes to make sure the piercer is going their job [ofc they are. chan is just very protective]

You'd be fine with it, the pain wasn't as bad as you thought however, Chan would be the one cringing, asking you countless times if you're okay

As you're healing, he would be very gentle and careful with you. He doesn't want to cause you any more discomfort. He'd be handing you painkillers and ice cold compress.

He'd want to help you clean up your fresh piercings so you would allow him to. Standing in the bathroom, you'd show him how to clean them. Chan would be hyper focused, watching you to make sure he gets it right

Nipple piercings take a while to heal so that means no touching. Chan wouldn't mind it at the beginning but as time goes on, he's dying for a touch. He just wants to play with your nipples, flick his tongue over the bars, just one little touch is all he wants.

ʚ Lee Know ɞ

You got it done whilst you was drunk (don't ever get a piercing whilst drunk, terrible idea btw) thinking it was a good idea

it was, until you got home and fell asleep. You awoke the next morning with a pain in your breasts. You rushed down to Minho and practically flashed him "Look!! I have my nipples pierced!"

The poor man wouldn't know where to look, blood rushing south in an instant. He's angry at you for doing something so reckless but at the same time, he cannot deny the fact that it looks so attractive to him

He knows not to touch whilst healing but he just wants to. So much so that he'd often find himself fantasizing about playing with your nipples

He's ecstatically to know that you're finally healed because that meant he can have a lot of fun with them.

ʚ Changbin ɞ

Changbin would be unsure about it. He cannot decide whether he loves them or not. He's supportive in whatever you do to your body (it is your body after all), he's just not sure

It's not that he's not a fan of body mods, it's just, he knows the dangers and how long it takes for nipples to heal – especially with his own knowledge about the human body due to training.

In his mind, he's looking out for you, which is sweet of him. You know Changbin isn't 100% sure but you went to get them pierced regardless.

You kept it a secret for some time, making excuses when you and Changbin would be intermit with each other. "It's been a long day." "I'm tired." "Maybe tomorrow, Binnie."

Being the sweetheart that he is, he'd understand however he cannot help but feel like you're hiding something for him. It wasn't until you was getting undressed and Changbin accidently walked in on you

His eyes naturally gazed down to you breasts, the metal bar between your nipples showing. His mind went blank. He always thought he wouldn't be too keen on nipple piercings, yet here he is, stood in front of you with a raging hard on.

You'd splutter, trying to hide your breasts because you're worried about what Changbin will think. You didn't want him to hate them, that's for sure so when he found out accidently, you was so sure he would freak out

He took you by surprise when he walked to you, cupping your breasts in his hands. His gaze fixated on the bar that was through your nipples. He would ask you whether it hurts or not and if you was healed.

He'd be hyper fixated on your breasts during intimate time. his hands never leaving you breasts, tongue contently flicking over your bud.

"I thought I wouldn't be so keen, yet here I am, unable to keep my hands off you."

ʚ Hyunjin ɞ

Hyunjin would love the idea of you getting your nipples pierced – he'd even get one himself if he was brave enough

We all know Hyunjin is super artistic so for the next month's, your breats/nipples are all he would draw. No one would that it's your breasts he is constantly drawing. There's just something artistic Hyunjin finds in you having your nipples pierced.

Sometimes, he would ask for you to pose for him. Dressing you in nothing but a sheer top so your nipples could be seen. You'd feel shy, posing for Hyunjin in such a lewd way, but you didn't hate it – you love that Hyunjin adores your decorated nipples.

During intimacy, Hyunjin would he quick to pull out his camera and snap a few photos (possibly videos) of you. He'd stash them away in a secret folder, to save for a rainy day.

ʚ Jisung ɞ

He'd be the one to suggest a nipple piercing, claiming it would look oh so attractive on you. (he most likely saw some anime girl that looked like you with her nipples pierced 🤷🏻‍♀️)

What he didn't bank on, is that in reality, it looked a thousand times better than what he thought.

The poor boy wouldn't know what to do or where to look. Having to wait for them to heal would be torture to him.

When they are healed, oh boy, it's like something deep within him has come out. we all know Jisung had some perverted tendencies to him so its not surprise he would request you to wear no bras, sheer / revealing clothing.

When in public, Jisung would a hundred percent have to drag you to the public restrooms, due to the fact that he cannot get your breasts out off his mind (and the fact your wearing little to no clothing underneath your coat)

Soon, your nipples would get sore and tender from Jisung playing with them too much. The poor boy just don't know when to stop. whilst your poor nipples are healing (once again), Jisung would result to taking photos, much like Hyunjin, saving them in his folder specifically named 'wank material'

He's so in love with your piercings that he would buy the majority of your nipple jewellery. It would range from pink bars, hearts, bats, explicit wording – you name it! If Jisung thinks it looks nice on you, he buys it. although, he does like the pink, glittery hearts, they give that 'innocent' affect on you and he loves it.

ʚ Felix ɞ

Felix loves your body, body mods or not. When you show him your piercings for the first time, he would be stunned

Like Changbin, he doesn't hate it but it takes some time to get use to. He liked that you had this innocent feel to him and now seeing you with nipple piercings stripped away that feel.

To Felix, your happiness is everything to him, so if you're happy, he is happy. He would be so delicate around your breast, scared of touching or playing with them in case he accidentally pulled one out

Months in and Felix was getting use to seeing metal in your nipples, although he was still very very careful around you. It wasn't until one intimate moment where Felix was so consumed by pleasure that he forgot

He flicked and rolled your nipples between his fingers. Your moans would be nothing like he has heard before. Your piercings left your nipples hyper sensitive – so sensitive you could cum just from them being played with

Felix loved that. His dom side showing straight away. He made it his goal to make you cum purely from playing with your sensitive nipples. He felt some type of accomplishment when he managed to do that "You see that? I did that to you, no one else but me. Don't you forget that."

Like Jisung, Felix would also like to buy you your jewellery, however, unlike Jisung who liked the 'innocent' look, Felix would buy you jewellery that would represent him. That way, he was always with you, no matter where or when. He liked that controlling aspect of it

ʚ Seungmin ɞ

i feel like Seungmin wouldn't really care. Of course he would have his opinions on it and that would be that it doesn't look that bad, however, I feel like Seungmin doesn't have much to say or feel about body mods in generally

he strikes me as the type of person to be like "It's your body, you go for it. As long as you're happy and safe, that's all that matters."

ʚ Jeongin / I.N ɞ

being the maknae, I feel like he doesn't have much experience when it comes to this type of things

How does he react? Feel? He would be so overwhelmed with his thoughts and feelings that he would lag, cheeks and ears flush red. He would act like a virgin, all shy and flustered

You'd find it adorable. That little sadistic side of you would tease him. You'd flash him randomly, grab his hand and place it on your breast so he could feel your piercing. You love his reaction, so much so that you would want to dom him in the bedroom department

and dominate you did. One look and he would be weak at the knees, flustered and shy. He would melt into your touch, his mind fuzzy with so many thoughts and possibilities.

He would be so gentle with you – maybe too gentle. You would have to ask him to be a bit rougher with you, claiming that it's okay when he would object. You love seeing his hands gripping your breasts. Your breasts would look so small in his hands (I mean, he does have big hands and long fingers, like, c'mon!) you adore it!

[harlequin-hangout]

Consequences

Loki Masterlist | Bucky Masterlist

Pairing: Dom!Loki x Sub!Fem!Reader x Dom!Bucky

Warnings: SMUT, MINORS DNI Knife play, Denial, overstimulation, kink, honorifics

Contains: This is just porn. Straight Smut

Word Count: 3.1k

This fic includes Polyamory! I've used some terms that, as a Polyamorous person, are part of my life, but I also didn't learn them until I became Polyamorous. So! Here's a glossary, just so everyone can enjoy the fic without googling. Not all terms may be used, I wrote the glossary before the fic 😅

Throuple/Triad: Relationship involving three people that are all involved with each other

V: Relationship involving three people where one person is dating both of the other people but the second and third partners are not dating each other

Dividers are made by me! Want some for yourself? Send me an ask!

I do not nor will I ever give permission for my writing to be copied, pasted, reposted to other sites, or edited in any way shape or form. Seriously, just don’t.

A/N: This may be expanded on in the future, I haven't completely decided yet. Thank of blame @vbecker10 for this one, however it goes 😅😅

Two weeks. Two fucking weeks. You sigh and look at your phone hoping that maybe you’d missed a text in the three minutes you hadn’t looked at your phone, but you had no such luck. Bucky and Loki had been gone for two weeks – twice as long as was planned – and you hadn’t heard from them in three days. The mission had gone well, much better than expected, actually. It had gone so well that Pepper had immediately scheduled a week-long press tour.  Your boys weren’t exactly the crowd favorites – one of them being an assassin and ex-Hydra operative, the other a god who tried to conquer your planet – but this could change all that. The tip they received had been a trap. If it hadn’t been for Bucky’s intimate knowledge of Hydra protocol and Loki’s magic, Steve Rogers and Tony Stark would be in critical condition, and Peter Parker would be dead. Hydra had been trying to take out as many of SHIELD’s top operatives as possible. Bucky had managed to spot things out of place, and had pulled Stark down out of the way of the explosion. He’d given Steve enough warning to move that the Super Soldier escaped with only some bumps and bruises, those would heal in no time. Peter . . . Peter had been mid-swing. The pillar had crushed his lower half. Thank god for his mutated genetics or he wouldn’t have made it long enough for Loki to get to him. Loki had managed to keep him alive just long enough for the QuinJet to get him to an intensive care hospital. He pulled through, and was due to be discharged from the ICU and sent to recover in the Avengers Tower medical bay next week.

A text from Steve lit up on your phone.

Message from: Steve Rogers

Y/N – Turn on your television, you’ll want to see this. – SteveYou smirked. No matter how many times you tried to bring that man into the twenty-first century, he still texted like an 80 year old man. At least he’d stopped sending letter-length texts in the group chat. Steve was the Avengers’ Golden Boy, but the Steven Rogers you’d come to know was every bit as bratty as you were. Not as submissive, that’s never a word you’d use for him, but bratty? Well, Doms are just brats who get their way. When he was vague like that, you knew he was up to something. You grab your laptop and open one of the national news channels that you knew would be carrying the conference. Tony stood behind the podium giving some kind of statement to the press before fielding questions. What on earth had Stevie Boy wanted you to – There we go. You smirked, he knew your style well. 

The camera changed angles, and you could see your boys sitting in the back. Bucky had his headphones on, and they were both on their phones. Score. You immediately text Steve.

How long until you’re all home?

Y/N – Sometime after 2100, we will finish our last photo session at 2030, then make our way back to the jet. Pepper has already convinced Tony to leave the debrief for tomorrow. – Steve

Mischief spreads across your face. Steve, you sly bastard. Okay, what was 2100 on the twelve hour clock? It’s 2pm now, and that’s 1400, so eight . . . nine. Seven hours should be PLENTY of time to make them wait. You slip into your emerald green lingerie set – the strappy one that hugs your curves just right – and slip on one of Bucky’s casual leather jackets (the formal ones were the ones without knife marks or blood, but you were confident that the dry cleaner had been able to get all the blood out of this one). Planting yourself in front of the full length mirror, you sit on the floor and snap a few photos. Bucky’s jacket falling off of your shoulders, covered in Loki’s colors. Marking yourself as theirs. Smirking, you hit send in the Throuple group chat and watch the laptop screen. If this works, you have something much better in mind.  Three . . . Two . . . One . . .

Message: Read

Bucky smirks, and Loki ever so discreetly raises an eyebrow on your computer screen. Wonderful, they’re paying attention. You grab the vibrator you keep for personal moments. Several settings and fifteen minutes later, you send an audio recording to that same chat with the caption “Headphone Warning 😈” 

You run back to the laptop, and just in time. You see Bucky’s head snap up from his phone, then see him slowly pass the headphones to Loki. The God’s expression darkens, the lust poorly masked on his face. Your phone vibrates, a new message on your screen.

Group Message from: Loki 

We land at nine. By the door. On your knees. No exceptions.

You could feel the butterflies forming in the pit of your stomach. This was definitely going to be a long night.

8:59pm: You kneel next to the door, sitting back on your heels. You’d brought a pillow for under your knees, knowing that you may be here for a while if the QuinJet was delayed.

9:07pm: The tower is silent. You squirm a little and consider getting up, but decide against it. You’d pushed your luck earlier that day, so you better do what you were told.

9:13pm: You hear the roar of the QuinJet engines. Your boys were finally home. 

They took their sweet time getting ready. It was almost 10 before you found yourself kneeling on the floor with Bucky pressed against your back. His vibranium hand clasped your wrists. You could feel him pressing into your back, his muscles moving against your bare skin as his fingers worked their way up your thigh. You could feel his hot breath on your neck as he leaned down to nip at your ear, smirking as you whined. Loki clicked his tongue at the sound.

“Come now, Pet. Your little stunt during the interview has made things rather inconvenient for the Sergeant here.” Loki’s voice absolutely dripped with salacious intent. “Do you really want to make things that much harder on him?” Loki stared down at you, raising an eyebrow as Bucky gently pressed his hips against you. You felt your breath catch in your throat. 

“N-no, My Prince,” you manage through Bucky’s teasing.

“There’s my good little Pet. Now, hold still.”

Loki was going to take his sweet goddamned time and there was nothing you could do about it. Every touch, every bite, hell, every look, was like electricity on your skin. You did your best to hold still, but the lust in Loki’s eyes made you squirm with need. You felt Bucky’s metal hand squeeze your wrists – a reminder to behave.

“C’mon now, Doll.” His voice was barely more than a whisper, breath hot on your ear. “Be good for the God, hmm? You had your fun earlier, now you need to deal with the consequences of your actions. Understand?” You whine as you feel Loki’s slim fingers ghost over your panties. You feel another squeeze on your wrists, this one a little harsher. “I said, do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir!!” You gasp. Bucky groans softly in your ear. The honorific does it for him and you knew it. 

“There’s my sweet girl . . .” He nips at your neck as Loki stands.

“Pet, I’d like to bring out my knife to pay you back for your press conference stunt. Is that something you’re willing to indulge tonight?”

“Yes, My Prince, but can we use the dullest one please?”

“Of course, love. Thank you.” Loki’s expression softens, even if only briefly. “We’ll use the red light system this time, love. I intend to take. My. Time.” an ornate blunted knife appeared in a flash of green. This one was your favorite. You could feel the cool metal on your skin, but there was minimal risk of your skin breaking. “Sergeant, if you would.” Bucky released your wrists and stood, sliding his intimidating form back onto the couch. He watched, his eyes dark with lust, as Loki worked. While Bucky would never bottom, damn did he love watching Loki work. The man was a genius when it came to denial, and he loved the way your body squirmed as you screamed and begged for your release.

You felt a pressure on your legs as an invisible force began to pull at your thighs. You giggle excitedly, knowing exactly what’s coming next. You loved shibari and being suspended, but it did take a lot of time. You felt a pull between your legs – that must be his magical anchor point – as your body is pulled upwards. You find yourself hanging upside down, the bite of invisible rope along your thighs and ass, as you lazily spin, your feet hanging down by your ass.

“Hold still for me, Pet,” Loki purred. You breathe in and out, waiting. The anticipation was always the worst part . . . not knowing when you were going to feel the cool bite of the knife, your Prince’s firm grip on your skin – you moan softly as you feel a sharp line of pressure draw up your thigh. He’s starting slow, warming you up. The blade makes its way over your hip, up you side, and presses in a bit more at your ribs before disappearing. You whine at the loss of contact, then gasp as you feel the knife scrape down your spine, from your tailbone to the base of your neck. The pressure feels heavenly. You let your eyes flutter closed as you begin to bliss out, your surroundings becoming fluid. Floating there, nothing matters besides you and the pressure of that beloved blade.

It could have been minutes or maybe hours before you felt the pull of the rope switch.Your arms fold crossed on your chest as a gentle force moves you into the perfect position. The pull of the rope traced its way around your arms and chest. The invisible anchor point centers itself over your breastbone and wrists. You feel yourself slowly pulled upwards as the rope drops from your hips.

“Can’t leave you upside down for too long, Pet. Besides, I have other plans for you tonight. Look at you, so pretty covered in those little red lines of mine.” You hang at just the right height for Loki’s hand to snake its way around your neck as you lean your head back against his shoulder. Your feet still dangle in the air as the other hand traces the outline of your panties. His long fingers push the fabric aside as they draw a slow, teasing line across your entrance.

“Remember, not until you’re given permission.”

“I promise, My Prince, I’ll be good!”

“Good Girl.” Loki smirked as his fingers entered you, their pace already merciless. He expertly curled his fingers against your favorite spot, while his other hand tightened on the sides of your neck, allowing air to flow to your lungs but giving you a floaty light headed feeling that made the warmth pooling between your legs infinitely more intoxicating. Your whole world narrowed again as you felt the band tightening in your stomach, bringing you closer to that intoxicating edge. Your moans fill the room and you can feel Loki growing harder by the second  when – Hands off. He immediately ceases all contact, and you whine at the sudden feeling of emptiness. Clicking his tongue, the god holds his slick fingers near your mouth, a silent order hanging in the air. You immediately open your mouth, your tongue swirling around his digits. 

“Now, darling, you didn’t think it would be so easy, hmm?” You can hear Bucky’s dark laughter at your frustration somewhere off to the side, but your world is still hazy. Loki repeats his process again and again, you’d lost count of how many times. Squirming, writhing, begging, bargaining, nothing satisfied the God – your God – more than your frustration and suffering.

“Now,” Loki growled in your ear. “Are you ready to be a good little Pet for your God?”

“Yes!! Oh god yes, please,” you begged. Immediately you felt the ropes adjusting themselves again. Your feet hit the floor just long enough for Loki to pull your arms behind your back as another invisible harness forms, this time two anchors settling, one between your shoulder blades, while the other supports your hips but leaves your legs dangling towards the ground, toes barely able to scrape the floor. Your wrists are bound by the same invisible pressure as you’re lifted back into the air, ready to receive your God.

“How bad do you want to feel me, dove?” The thin grip Loki has on his composure was evident by the strain in his voice as he pressed himself against your ass. 

“Please . . . plea–” You gasp as Loki presses into you. Giving you no more than a couple seconds to adjust, his grip is ironclad on your hips as he pounds into you. You moans fill the room as you’re reduced to a puddle, suspended in the air by nothing more than the will of your God. Loki works expertly, hitting your favorite spots over and over, bringing you to the brink of orgasm time and time again, but always you have to wait. You have to hold.

“Please, oh god, My Prince, please, I can’t last . . . I – I’m gonna–” you fight your orgasm, determined to obey your god’s orders. A hand tangles in your hair and pulls, Loki’s voice thick with lust in your ear.

“Cum for me pet, and worship your God.” You release, the building coil in your lower abdomen finally snapping as your orgasm rips over your entire body. Loki’s touch is electric as he eases you down. The last thing you remember is Loki’s heavenly moan before your vision fades.

“ . . .pet. Come back to us, darling, there’s my good girl. The Sergeant hasn’t had his turn yet.”

You open your eyes to see a now caring Loki holding you against his chest. You’re no longer suspended from your magical ropes. Bucky next to him, running his thumb along your cheek.

“Hey doll, how you feeling? Do you need a couple minutes?” You press your cheek into Bucky’s hand. Your heart always flutters when they’re soft with you, especially after a rough scene.

“No, m’good,” you manage. “Do whatever you want to me, Sir.” Bucky leans down and gently kisses your forehead.

“Mischief? Grab her hands for me. I wanna take my sweet time.” Bucky’s smirk was evident in his voice.

Loki chuckled, his voice deepening.

“Anything to help, Sergeant,” he smirked as his hands closed around your wrists. Bucky didn’t waste any time getting started, he had different plans than his godly counterpart. Bucky loved watching Loki work, the man had style. However, now Bucky was feeling a little like showing off. He pulled your ankles, pulling a squeak from your lips as he stretched you out, leaving your head in Loki's lap. He traced his hands slowly up your body, pressing your legs open and laying flat on his front. God, he loved how your legs shook when he nipped and kissed at your thighs. Hearing you gasp at the cold metal of his hand excited him, and he growled as he roughly pulled your panties off of you. He smirked up at you as you began to squirm under him.

“You have standing permission from me, Doll. Laufeyson may have wanted you to wait for your release, but I want to remind you what happens when you decide to play with fire.” Bucky could see Loki’s slender fingers squeeze your wrists, and then he got to work. He licked a slow strip up your slit, paying special attention to that ever-so-sensitive bundle of nerves at the top. He could hear you start to moan, only encouraging him. He pressed two large fingers inside of you, scissoring and curling them to find the sweet spot that he loved so much. You struggle to control your volume, back arching in the air as your head presses against Loki’s thigh. Aaah, there it was. Your hips started to buck already, your first orgasm quickly approaching. He can feel you begin to tighten around his fingers, only making him pump them harder, tormenting your favorite spots with a new devotion. He drapes his metal arm over your hips to hold you still as your first orgasm washes over your body. Taking no time for you to recover, he keeps pushing. At about three orgasms, you had lost your ability to control your volume. Thankfully, Loki took care of that for him, his lips crashing down on yours in an effort to keep the rest of the floor from hearing your extracurriculars. By six orgasms, Bucky could barely contain himself. He backed up just enough to give himself time to pull his hardened cock out of his pants and boxer briefs. You whined through Loki at the loss of contact, then moaned despite him as Bucky slid inside. You fit so nicely around him. So warm and tight, he gave you a couple moments to adjust once he bottomed out, then began to move. Slowly at first, relishing every gasp and moan that escaped your mouth. He reached down, starting to toy with one of your breasts, Loki’s hand quickly finding the other as his pace quickened.

“B-Buck– I mean Sir, pleeassse, so much . . . it’s so much I dunno . . .”

“You’re okay, Sweetheart, just one more for me, okay? Just one more. You’re doing so good, baby girl, just one more. Are you green?”

“Y-yeah, Green. Ahh!” you gasp as he picks up the pace, desperate for his own release as well as yours. As soon as you started tightening around him, it was over. Bucky came, and he came hard. He heard you scream his name, followed by a string of profanities. Breathing hard, he leans down and plants a tender kiss on your lips.

“There’s my good girl, you did so well for me.”

Loki had taken you to the shower to clean up. The bathroom was definitely Loki’s domain, Bucky didn’t know much about care products. Bucky grabbed the takeout he had ordered while Loki had his fun, set up the pillow fort in the living room, and queued up netflix. He heard you and Loki erupt into laughter, and he couldn’t help but smile. How someone like him had found two people that not only made him feel normal but loved – like he belonged, he’d never know. Even if nothing else made sense, he knew one thing. Even if your Triad was an unconventional relationship, he had found his family. Nothing could ever take you two away from him, and if anyone ever tried to use you to get to one of the Avengers, he had a partner in Loki who would help him burn the world to bring you home.

Tags: @vbecker10 @soubi001 @thomase1

[sidthedollface2]

Third Love

Ch: 5 La Rosa

Pairing: Eddie x Mexican Female Reader

Word Count: 9.1k (snack time)

Summary: Eddie finally takes you on that date, but the question remains, Will he get a second?

CW: MDNI 18+ SMUT (p in v, oral, all that fun stuff ) Jealous and possessive Eddie, Modern au Eddie, fuckboy Eddie. Reader with another man (not cheating). I gave you a cute lil nickname cuz you're a sweetie. 🍑

His body collapses over yours breathless and sticky from sweat. His hold on you is tight as he rests his head over your bare chest. Your mind is racing a mile a minute. Your name is tattooed on his body. You should feel honored at the sweet gesture, but instead you're confused. He pulls away tieing off the condom and throwing it into the trash.

This is what you've always wanted, so why wasn't it like the movies, where there's a clear sign that you love him too. You listen for angels singing, or butterflies in your stomach, heat in your cheeks or the hammering of your heart. The sound of a running shower disrupts your thoughts and you quickly get dressed. You only have a few minutes before Sebastian gets out of the shower and you need to leave right now.

The rooms empty when he enters, the scent of your perfume lingers in his sheets. He knows about your date with Eddie, you told him yourself. Afraid tonight would be his last night with you he had to do something, anything to keep you. He knows the rules you set, boundaries to never be crossed, but rules are meant to be broken. In the heat of passion between kitten licks and mouthing at your neck and body he marked you, lavender bites below your ear, deep purple ones litter your breasts and inner thighs. There's no way you'd see Eddie with love bites all over your skin.

You're not sure if the steam is from your hot shower or the heat leaving your body from anger as you glance over your hickey covered body. Disappointment written all over your face. Instead of feeling loved and on cloud nine from being intimate with someone who loves you, you feel used. The marks on your body act like a trophy had been claimed. If this was supposed to stop you it only fueled your fire. You were going on that date whether Sebastian liked it or not.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I have a date coming up but I'm not sure where exactly to take her so I need ideas."

Cereal dribbles out of the corners of Max's mouth as she suppresses a laugh. Eddie Munson on a date? She' thought she'd never hear the words.

He's in your apartment again, he's been coming weekly, sometimes twice a week, when he knows you're not home, Max unknowingly tells him when you're out.

He's written down little notes about things he's seen in your apartment. Likes plants, doesn't know what kind. Likes movies, doesn't know which genre is your favorite, reads books, doesn't know your favorite trope or who your book boyfriend would be. It's all very vague knowledge of your likes and dislikes.

Max gives him a few ideas of what would impress her, a trip to a nice arcade, a bmx event where riders compete on who can land the most outrageous jumps and kicks. She mentions things you might like since you're her friend after all and a girl. "My roommate doesn't like going to the movies on a first date, says that's not how you get to know someone by being silent for 2.5 hrs." She shrugs, as she sets her dirty bowl in the sink. Well there goes the movie he planned.

Max makes herself comfy on the couch, knees tucked to her side as she powers on the ps5 and places her headset on. Eddie excuses himself to use the restroom but on his way he notices your door isn't closed all the way. He looks towards Max, who's already immersed in the game and talking back to gamers who think she can't play.

This is his chance. He cautiously pushes the door open but doesn't step inside. He scans your bedroom left to right taking it all in. Immediately to the left is your cherry wood desk, laptop and paperwork with Twisted Records in the header. A calendar hangs from the wall above it showcasing days and times that you'll be in office as well as studio days, festivals and your days off.

Against his better judgment he takes out his phone and flips through the calendar taking pictures of each month as well as photos of your room. It was just enough information he needed to coincidentally meet you at the same location.

A frown settles between his brows as he studies your calendar, noticing the many therapy and drs appointments you had scheduled. Leaving your bedroom exactly how he found it he goes to the restroom and once he's done he says his goodbyes to Max.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eddie drove through hills where lush greens and palm trees lined the street. Homes where driveways were miles long and fences with intricate curves and designs welded into the frame, so tall and large they seemed like heaven's gate. Stone pillars and statues were surrounded by fountains and wildflowers. The street to your dads house was never ending, at the very top of a steep hill overlooking the city.

He stopped outside your gate as a voice from the intercom addressed him, buzzing him inside. Eyes wide in awe as he looked over your dads property, you were rich rich. A sense of insecurity washed over him. You were born into this lifestyle and he was scraping by.

He didn't have all this money to shower you with gifts or fancy expensive cars. Could he even afford the dinner of your favorite restaurant? Maybe he was in over his head. What would a rich girl want with him? From what he saw you didn't act rich and snobby.

He rounded your circular driveway, paved in decorated stone and brick. Wiping his sweaty palms on his black slacks, re-adjusted the sleeves he had folded up to his forearms. A dash of cologne spritzed through the air as he walked through the spray, rounding the car towards your door.

Concealer covered the love bites behind your ear, now barely noticeable and faded. A skin tight bodycon dress with a high neckline and sleeves covered the rest. A dress this tight didn't need undergarments. The seams of a bra wouldn't do it justice so you wore panties and Chanel no 5 underneath. A pair of black heels completed the look. A last glance in the mirror made you self conscious. You remembered the girls Eddie was with that night. Tall, taller than you, very Paris Hilton modelesque type girls. The kind that gets seen with rockstars Pamela Anderson and Tommy Lee types. Groupies, that wasn't you.

The sound of the doorbell rings throughout the house causing you to jump, nervousness consumes you as you slowly walk down the stairs, making sure you dont trip and embarrass yourself. You take a deep breath to calm yourself and open the front door.

Eddie stands in your doorway, a beautiful bouquet of flowers clutched in his hand. You both seem to be in a daze as you noticeably check eachother out. Eddie looks unbelievably handsome, dressed in black slacks, a collared shirt that has the top buttons open down his toned chest with his sleeves rolled up his forearms.

A flight of butterflies took off in his stomach at the sight of you. He could stare at you all day with how stunning you look, his eyes trail over your frame, the fat of your hips and thighs call to him. The things he would do to get between those smooth legs. "Wow Peach, you look amazing."

Your cheeks redden at the compliment, smoothing down your dress, you smile shyly under his stare. "That's really sweet of you, thank you."

"These are for you." Eddie hands you a beautiful bouquet of coral and lavender roses mixed with baby's breath and greenery, wrapped beautifully in colored cloth and ribbon.

You reach for the stems and an electric charge buzzes between you as your fingers gently graze Eddie's. His eyes widen at your soft touch, the buzz is loud in his ears just like the first time he met you, the buzz from the neon tattoo sign when you showed up at the shop. It's been charging, hours of friendly conversation through a telephone. Buzzing at his fingertips when they text you every morning and night. The pull is undeniable, perhaps Eddie knows that too because the flowers he chose have a meaning that's not lost on you. "They're beautiful Eddie. Thank you." You bring the bouquet to your nose gently inhaling the floral scent, your eyes close enjoying the tender moment. "Come in, let me put these in a vase."

You step aside letting Eddie into the foyer, turning on your heel towards the kitchen. Eddie gasps silently at the plunging neckline on the back of your dress, sharp shoulder blades moving with each step. His eyes follow the soft curve of your spine and his tongue peeks out licking his lips as the bounce of your backside has his mouth watering. His head is on a swivel as he admires the enormous space that is your dads house. Tall ceilings with windows from floor to ceiling brighten up the kitchen. Natural light beams through creating a peaceful serene kitchen.

You set the flowers down near the sink and Eddie takes a seat at the kitchen island, forearms leaning on the edge. You can feel his stare behind you as you reach for a vase down below. You bend at the knees, not really fond of flashing him your panties yet and Eddie tilts his head, eyes fixed closely on your body before he averts his eyes, momentarily forgetting his manners. "This is the biggest house I've ever seen, It's huge. Is it only you and your parents that live here?

You chuckle at his amusement, arranging the flowers so they sit perfectly in the middle of the island. "It's mostly me and my Dad, but he works a lot and I also work a lot, so It can be rare when we're both here at the same time."

You peer over the flowers straight into his warm eyes, your seductive gaze dances between his lips and eyes. From behind the flowers you look like a sultry fox stalking her prey, waiting for the perfect time to pounce and sink your perfect teeth into him. He'd let you too, beg for your bite to wound him helpless, drop to his knees in mercy if it meant he'd be carried to your love nest only to be devoured.

"Do you know the meaning of coral roses?" You question, tracing the soft petals of the flower with your fingertips, the tickle on your fingers giving way to your sweet smile.

"No."

Yes.

His adam's apple bobs in his throat as he swallows.

"Do you know the significance of lavender roses?" You pluck a coral and lavender rose, rounding the kitchen island to stand directly in front of Eddie's spread legs. He's never been in this position before, desire dancing like a flame within your eyes. Groupies were after the fame that came along with being a rockstar, to you Eddie was just some guy. A really handsome guy that stirred all the ingredients needed for the perfect meal.

Him.

A delicacy that not even your wealth can buy, yet he landed at your doorstep, well, Sebastian's door step like a door dash hand delivered for your consumption.

You twist the stem of the coral rose between your thumb and index finger, gently placing the rose to his chest. "Desire, a deep and longing wish for something or someone."

He places his palm above your hand, holding the rose and your hand against his chest. His eyes flick down to your lips and he hopes you don't feel the thundering of his heart beneath your palm.

With his other hand he pulls the lavender rose from your grasp, twirling it between his fingers just as you did.

"Love at first sight, the experience of starting to be in love with someone as soon as you see them for the first time."

So he does know the meaning.

He tenderly brings the rose to your temple, slowly caressing the velvet petal down the curve of your cheek, to the soft angle of your jaw. His eyes never leave yours, enchanted by your beauty, a beauty that he's only read in fairy tales and mythology. He travels the rose across your full lips, and his eyes flick down to the suppleness of your bottom lip.

The tickle of the petal against your mouth causes you to bite your lip through a smile. His eyes widen and he licks his lips on instinct, your sweet smile draws him closer, the taste of you a breath away.

His hand lifts from yours gently tucking a soft strand of your hair behind your ear, his thumb caresses the shell of your ear making your body shiver under his gentle touch, fingers fan to the nape of your neck pushing into your hair, cradling the back of your head in his palm. He closes the gap as his plush lips collide with yours, slow soft pecks testing the waters afraid of feeling too desperate to dive right in like he wanted to.

Still between his spread legs you pull him closer by the nape of his neck, his hand finds the curve of your hip bringing you closer bracing you between his thighs, palm firmly cradling your head deepening the kiss with the hunger of a starved man. His tongue swipes over the seam of your lips, eager to explore the movement of your tongue against his. You part your lips granting him entry, he moans at the taste of you, tongues swirling fighting for dominance. You cradle his face, thumb pulling at his bottom lip, nibbling on the fullness, needing to be closer, deeper.

The hand on your hip snakes its way around your waist, finding the smooth skin of your exposed back. A gasp leaves your mouth as his knuckles trace down your spine, creating tiny sparks in its wake. He tilts his head, nose brushing against your jaw, lips finding the crook of your neck. You expose your neck to him in raw desire for him to continue down this path. Granting him permission he nibbles and bites at the skin, scented by your alluring perfume.

He's intoxicated by the feel of your flesh under his hands, wanting to feel more of you, he boldly palms the round globes of your ass, a grip so deep his fingertips tickle your clothed cunt causing you to squeal and jump, breaking the heated kiss. "I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry, It's really hard to resist you." He abruptly stands, retreating both hands in a show of surrender and respect.

Unable to meet your eyes, he paces your kitchen clearly frustrated in his lapse of judgment. "Hey, It's ok…I.. I liked it" Your soft voice breaks his pacing and he finally looks at you searching for any sign of uncomfortableness, finding none he relaxes hes shoulders, relieved he didn't just blow it. "Can I hug you? Promise just a hug." You nod and he reaches for your arms, pulling you close to his firm body.

He understands now how men fall to their knees in the presence of goddesses and sirens of the deep. Eddie's not spiritual in the slightest but the way your hot skin makes him feel and the lustful way you look at him he knows if he doesnt get you out of this house he'll bow down to you with pleading eyes begging to worship you. "Lets, get out of here yeah?"

With his hand at the small of your back he leads you out to his car, opening the passenger side and averting his eyes when your dress rides up the meat of your thighs as you sit down. You smooth down ur dress, pulling the hem down to cover up afraid you've over dressed for the occasion. He enters the drivers side, wide smile as he stares at you, his passenger princess and arm candy for the night.

The drive is filled with music and laughter. No awkward silence between you, Eddie's thoughtful questions are deeper than strangers asking about the weather. Yours not so much. "So uh, what's the worst nickname someone has ever called you?"

Eddie chuckles, remembering his highschool days are long gone but never forgotten. "In highschool people called me freak." He glances over to gauge your reaction, hoping the title that he wore proudly doesn't put you off. He catches a slight frown when you look away from him and he wonders if he said the wrong thing. "Freak because….of all the girls you–"

"No. That's not. Actually far from that." He laughs. "Freak as in strange and unusual. I was the town piriah, Eddie The Freak Munson."

Its hard to believe his words when he turns his body towards you, one hand on the wheel and the other bracing the back of your headrest looking over his shoulder, eyes focused and concentrated in reversing. You focus on his thick corded neck, protruding adams apple so delicious Eve couldnt resist. The scar along his strong angular jaw acting like an X on a treasure map, you'd dig with your bare hands just to touch him.

His shirt is pulled tight around his bicep showcasing his lean muscle, defined forearms from years of playing guitar. Hes unaware of how attractive he is, relying solely on his charisma and charm. It works for him, because he's got you in the palm of his hand.

You're not sure if it's just Eddie, an unexpected turn on or both that has you squeezing your thighs together, craving a friction only he can provide.

"I can feel you staring at me."

He's looking at you now, arm still braced behind your seat, incredibly close you can feel his breath on your lips.

"You're pretty to look at." You reply, studying the map of freckles that decorate his face. He grins, cheeks flushed pink by your compliment. "If you ask me, between the both of us, you're the pretty one." He puts the car in park and grasps your hand in his, placing a sweet kiss to your knuckles. His hands feel rough against your skin but his kiss is soft and caring.

"Let me get the door, yeah?" He walks to your side of the car, opening the door like a gentleman that he's learning to be. Your dress is sitting mid thigh, too short and tight to stand up without flashing someone. He sees your hesitancy and instead of standing on the side of the door, allowing you space to get out, he comes close next to you, shielding your body from anyones wandering eyes. The heel of your shoe hits the pavement as your leg extends out of the car. He swallows.

He's seen this a million times in movies, a beautiful leggy woman exits the car with poise and grace. Men stop what they're doing to pick up their jaw from the floor, but Eddie never thought that he'd witness such a thing in real life. He looks to his sides making sure no one is expecting a peep show, already feeling very protective of you. When it's clear he offers you his hand and you accept, while the other pulls the hem of your dress down, keeping your knees together like a lady, you gracefully exit the car.

"Come, It's this way." He says, fingers intertwined with yours as he walks next to you. His hands are much bigger than yours, rough and calloused from playing instruments. You don't miss the way his thumb circles your knuckles, It's soothing and warm against your skin. He's soothing to you.

On the outside he's a bouncing ball of chaos and electricity but when you're with him he soothes your racing mind, calmness washes over you and while there's a storm raging in your mind he offers the hot coffee and warm blanket. You grip his hand a little tighter, grounding him to you for as long as you can.

A gasp leaves your lips when you finally see where he brought you. Gravel crunches beneath your shoes as you pass under an archway that's decorated in ivy. The sky is painted in light shades of orange and pink, fluffy cloud trails as far as you can see. To the right, a small natural pond is home to white and orange koi fish. Large green lily pads float on top of the rippled water, caused by perched stones creating a tiny waterfall. Shades of deep green moss cover many of the large rocks that surround the pond. A few red eared turtles are catching the last few rays of the sun before they retreat to their home.

Rows and rows of fresh greenery cloud your vision as you remember a time when you'd walk hand in hand with your mother at a similar place. "Eddie, you brought me to a greenhouse!?" Excitement is written all over your face and Eddie internally high fives himself for a job well done. The fact that he knew you liked plants from being in your apartment beforehand is never to be spoken of.

"Yeah, I hope that's ok?"

"More than ok, I love it. All these plants look so beautiful." If you weren't wearing a dress and heels you'd jump for joy. It suddenly dawns on you that from an outsider your way overdressed for the occasion and Eddie catches you looking down judging your own clothing choices. "Hey, don't worry. Just need to stand by the flowers and you'll blend right in." He smiles, leading you down the path of hanging pothos.

"If you see anything you like, it's yours."

"Oh no, don't tell me that. I'll buy everything. Besides, my apartment's already full of different plants." You laugh, walking straight to a golden pothos with thick heart shaped leaves. He knows your apartment has more than enough greenery so he offers you an opportunity usually reserved for a girlfriend. It doesn't occur to him till after he says it.

"My place is pretty bare, there's a few lonely windows that could use some color."

You stop what you're doing to look at him and take in what he just offered. Decorating his place with hand picked plants of your choice, most men freak out at the mention of a girl invading their space, yet he suggests living plants that need tending. You assume you'll be watering and changing the soil to each individual plant so it thrives in its new environment.

Does he already picture you becoming a regular in his home?

Does he want you in his home? You wouldn't mind. It's too soon to think about the future, so you shake away the thought.

Nevertheless, no one ever made such a sweet gesture and if he was this caring on your first date how would the 10th date go or even the 100th. He's a little rough around the edges on the outside but the way his dimpled smile is brighter than the sun and how he's currently swatting at a string of leaves that have tangled in his hair, you know deep down he's a silly boy with his heart on his sleeve.

You giggle at his antics and walk over to help him.

"This thing just started attacking me." He jokes, pulling a tiny leaf out of his hair.

"I think it chose you." You reply through a smile, pulling the plant down and placing it in his hands.

"Ceropegia or string of hearts. You see, its leaves are shaped like tiny hearts." You gently trace the leaves with your fingertips, admiring the purplish vines hanging from the pot. Eddie admires you more than the plant he's holding. The sunset creates a beautiful glow against your skin, beaming bright like a spotlight in the dark, showing him the way home, the way to you. He wonders if you'd let him in, with your arms wide waiting for his embrace or would he need to climb through broken windows to reach you.

He doesn't know it yet but someone else is already knocking on the door, patiently waiting for you to answer. In this moment though the thought of Sebastian doesn't even enter your mind, too focused on this new fluttering feeling in your heart, just waiting for those angelic chimes to let you know he's the one.

"How do you know about all these plants and flowers?"

"When I was a kid my Mom would come to different nurseries and botanical gardens, she'd let me run around to release all my energy while she shopped for different flowers to give to my dad. She said that most men don't receive flowers till their funeral so she made it a regular thing for him. The first plant that caught my attention was a fuzzy succulent. Fuzzy like a peach my mom said. So from there the nickname stuck and my love for plants and flowers."

You relived the memory with a smile on your face, no tears or sadness at the mention of your late mother. A small step to healing the hurt that still lingered.

"Your Mom sounds wonderful. I'd love to meet her."

You stop in your tracks, dark clouds suddenly covering the bright sun in your heart. Eddies concerned eyes come into focus, gold rays piercing through the clouds to warm you, gentle hands cupping your face, bringing you comfort.

"Hey, you ok?" His thumbs are soft as they circle the apples of your cheeks.

"She..she passed away……last year." You choke, throat tight with emotion, yet a sense of relief washes over you at finally being vulnerable to say the words out loud.

"I'm so fucking sorry Peach. I…I know how it feels to lose a mother, mine passed away when I was just a kid. It's not supposed to happen this way ya know. We aren't supposed to bury our parents."

He pulls you close in a tight hug, cheek resting on top of your head. It saddens you to know that Eddie lost his mother as a young child, you can't imagine the impact it had on him growing up. You felt a connection with him before but knowing that he also understands the pain of losing a parent, you feel bonded to him in a way you've never felt with anyone else. The scent of his cologne and the way he's holding you with such care and compassion makes your heart soar, you could be in his arms for hours and it still wouldn't be enough.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bring the mood down." You pull back, dropping your arms from around his waist but he doesn't let you go far. His hands are on your shoulders, soothing your arms in an up and down motion.

" Nope. None of that. Not with me ok."

He tilts your chin up with his pointer finger and thumb, chocolate eyes searching yours, his gaze travels to your mouth and he leans in, placing a sweet kiss to your lips, erasing all your worries.

You continue down the row like a kid in a candy store, darting from plant to plant, low growing ferns with fuzzy leaves to tall monstera plants with leaves as big as your head. You choose three more plants for Eddies home and not once does he object at your selection. He's all smiles and rosy cheeks seeing the joy and excitement in your eyes as you tell him about the different plants you know about and how to care for them. He could listen to you talk about your interests all day if it meant spending more time with you.

As the sun sets below the horizon, stars illuminate the dark sky and day turns into night. You find yourself sitting across from Eddie, a whiskey glass held towards you in a toast.

"To honor. If you can't cum in her cum on her." You speak through a giggle, clinking your glass to his throwing your head back, wincing as the burn of tequila travels down your throat. You don't usually drink, due to all your medications but its a special occassion where one drink wont hurt. Eddie's eyes are wide, stunned by your vulgar toast as he brings the glass to his lips. "Shit, I'll drink to that." He comments, through a wide grin above the rim of the glass before he downs the amber liquid.

A man around your age stands at your side, notepad and pen in hand ready to take down your order, he smiles brightly at you and you return the gesture in politeness. "Good evening, My name is Leo, I'll be your server tonight." He starts, full attention directed towards you, not once breaking eye contact to acknowledge the other guest at the table. "What are we celebrating tonight, a wedding anniversary, perhaps?"

Eddie's scanning the menu one last time, finalizing his selection when the sound of your giggle pulls his attention towards the server. He narrows his eyes at him, familiar with this tactic, a not so clever way of asking if you're available.

He watches as Leo shamelessly flirts with you, veiled under the pretense of being a likable server. When you answer his question with a 'Not married' he turns to Eddie eyeing him up and down. "Don't take too long man, or someone else will take her off your hands." He chuckles, not quite landing his attempt at a joke. Eddie doesn't want to make a scene and ruin your date, smart enough to know you don't mess with people who handle your food, so he ignores the comment and signals for you to order.

"I'll get those started right away, If there's anything else I can get for you don't hesitate in flagging me down." He throws you a wink and retreats to the kitchen behind you. Eddie scoffs in disbelief, shaking his head at the server's audacity. He catches sight of Leo behind you seemingly talking about you to the chef because he snaps his head in your direction. It suddenly occurs to him that your dress is backless, hence the reason for the peering eyes behind you. His gaze travels from your pretty face, to your delicate neck, down the swell of your perky breasts. His lips part in a silent gasp as he takes note of your pebbled nipples visible under your dress. Eddie was never the jealous type but with you It's different and knowing the server's been eye fucking your tits has him seeing red.

Before he has a chance to offer you his jacket you catch him off guard by your bold question. "I'm sorry?" He asks, not sure if he heard you correctly.

"Are you married?"

Yep. He heard you correctly.

"Nope, never been married." He answers, brows pinched in confusion. "Where's this coming from?" He questions, taking a sip from his drink, needing a distraction from the odd inquiry.

"It's silly but my friends have this red flag list and well you have a job, so you're not broke. You have a car, your own place, and now I know you're not married."

Amused by the list he wonders what else is considered a red flag. "What else is on the list? I'm really curious now."

"You sure?"

"Mmhmm, go ahead, ask away."

He leans back in the chair, ready for the spitfire of random questions.

"Girlfriend?"

"Not yet." He smiles.

"Baby mama?"

"Nope."

"Crazy ex?"

"Hmmm." He looks in the distance, carefully thinking of his response as his mind briefly flashes to Becky.

"No."

"Girl best friend?"

"Nope, guy."

"Ever been arrested?"

"Yes."

Before you could prod for more details Leo's standing at your table, arms balancing oval plates with your evening dinner.

"A5 japanese wagyu for the gentleman." He places the plate in front of Eddie, unaware of the glare he's receiving from the metalhead.

"Filet mignon, for the very beautiful lady."

Eddie rolls his eyes as the plate is placed in front of you, jaw clenched in anger.

"Thank you." You reply, returning the kindness to the server with a friendly smile.

It happens quickly but Eddie sees it in slow motion. Leo inches closer, placing his hand high up on your shoulder, hot skin against your hot skin. Hunger in his stare as he peers down at your gorgeous doe eyes, dazzling under the soft glow of the lights, full kissable lips, wet from your beverage.

"You're very welcome."

Eddie doesn't hear a thing too focused on the subtle caress of his thumb on your flesh. His four other fingers imprint just below your neck, between your shoulders. You're too kind and sweet to pick up that this is more than a friendly server, more than cheeky banter, more than upbeat charade to garner better tips.

The chefs in the kitchen observe their friend closely, smiles and elbows to the ribs in jest as they admire Leo's hand touching you. It becomes too much when his hand pulls away, fingertips slowly dragging across the bare skin of your shoulder. The sleeve to your dress delicately slips off, exposing the smooth curve of your shoulder and collarbones.

Eddies up in a flash, chair scraping the tile floor as its shoved behind him. His face is angry as he towers over the smaller man, never backing down in a fight to defend a woman, his woman. Fist clenched and ready for impact, jaw so tight his molars grind against each other.

Rage swirls in his eyes as he shoots daggers toward Leo daring him to make a move. Daring him to touch you again with his greasy fingers, and see what happens when he breaks them one by one. Look at you with those lustful eyes one more time and he'll rip them from his pathetic skull, just like hes witnessed before. This time it wont be by Vecna's hand but his own.

"Murder." He speaks, not once breaking eye contact with the frightened man cowering in front of him.

"I was arrested for murder."

He leans over whispering something in the mans ear.

'Touch her again and i'll fucking kill you.'

Without another word or look in your direction Leo scurries back to the kitchen, where his friends busy themselves, avoiding Eddie's homicidal glare.

You're shocked beyond belief at what you just witnessed and Eddie's revelation, but his show of dominance and possessiveness has your panties drenched in arousal. If it wasn't for all the guests enjoying their meal, you'd fall to your knees, take his full length into your awaiting mouth, choke on his fat cock till drool dribbles down your chin and your eyes water. And once you swallow his seed with a smile on your face you'd beg for more.

Eddie thinks he's officially blown it, causing a disturbance on your first date and admitting he got arrested for murder. It's not till you're licking your lips and shifting in your seat that he realizes it's the exact opposite. You're not afraid that he took someone's life or that seeing another guy touch you lit a fire in him so bright it threatened to burn the place down. It turned you on. HE turns you on, more than anyone ever has, and in this moment you want him, need him so badly it burns.

His hands are gentle against your hot skin as he hooks his finger under the sleeve of your dress, bringing the sparkling fabric back over your shoulder. His eyes are warm, no longer filled with anger as they marvel at you. His brown eyes are suddenly your favorite shade. His touch, the best feeling against your skin. His kiss, your favorite flavor. The scent of his cologne becomes your favorite scent, as he drapes his leather jacket over your shoulders, shielding you from prying eyes and unwanted touches.

He finds his seat again, knife and fork in hand as he cuts into his food.

"Wrongfully arrested." He clarifies, fork sliding between his lips. His eyes close, savoring the marbled steak "mmm so good. You want some?" You nod and he cuts into another piece, holding the fork out for you. His eyes watch as you wrap your lips around his fork, deliberately pulling off with a slow drag of your mouth, pouty lips glistening from the grease of the juicy steak. Eddie's cock twitches at the pornographic sound that leaves your lips when the bursts of flavor coat your tongue.

"Mmmmm Delicious." You coo, swiping at the edge of your mouth with your thumb.

"How did it feel– Being handcuffed, and thrown around?

Eddie's eyebrows disappear under his bangs in surprise, a sly grin plastered on his handsome face. He truly hopes he's not reading you wrong, or he'll regret his next words if he is.

"I…I could show you. My place Isn't far from here."

He downs the rest of his drink, bracing himself for your rejection. Self deprecating thoughts mock him, until your angelic voice brings him out of it.

"Yea, I want you to show me."

I want you.

I want you.

I want you.

Show me.

Show me.

Show me.

"Check please!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The drive to Eddie's place is filled with bashful glances and flirty touches. He can't get enough of you. His body screams to be close to you, touching you in any capacity you'll allow, holding hands between the console, gentle hands cupping your neck, bringing you close for heated kisses at stop lights. If at any moment you were to tell him to stop, if going to his place is all of a sudden a bad idea or he senses any discomfort, he's man enough to respect your boundaries and end the night with just as much enthusiasm as it started.

The car comes jostling up as he hits a speed bump a little too quickly, causing your tits to bounce deliciously and the hem of your dress to ride up. His eyes linger on the meat of your plush thigh, glancing towards your lap every few seconds, blood rushing to his dick as he envisions what's between your legs.

You don't miss the way he's gripping the steering wheel and shifting in his seat, chest heaving with every breath. You catch him licking his lips as eyes dart to your thighs and it makes a fire burn within you. Being wanted and lusted after fueling your boldness, you grab his hand and place it on your inner thigh.

His wide eyes snap to yours, pupils dark with hunger, craving to devour you whole. "Shit, you're amazing." He praises, kneading your flesh between his fingers, denting your skin with his grip. You bring his hand between your legs, pulling your dress up around your waist exposing your black panties.

"Oh fuck fuck. That's so hot." He breathes, cupping your cunt over your panties. His middle and ring fingers massage your slit, eyes glancing between the road ahead and his hand between your legs. A hiss is pulled from his lips as you reach over and palm his hard cock through his pants. "Fuck baby, feels so good." He groans, angling his hips up, chasing your palm.

"Need more Eddie." You coo, spreading your legs wider, giving him better access to your cunt.

"Shit. Ok yeah. Anything you want." He gulped, Carefully pulling your panties to the side, sliding his middle finger into your entrance, groaning as he pumped into you.

"Fuck, youre so wet princess."

His second finger breaches your entrance, easily sliding in, fingering you with one hand while the other holds the wheel, racing towards his house. You leaned your seat back causing Eddies fingers to fuck you deeper, hitting that soft spongy spot you could never reach. Pleasure building at the way his rings cool your hot core.

The car comes to a complete stop in the driveway, fingers pulling out of you as Eddie throws his seat back.

"Come here" he demands, hauling you onto his lap, fingers digging into your hips as he rocks you back and forth on his dick.

His mouth crashes into yours, all teeth and swirling tongues. You groan into him, enjoying the flavor of his tongue like an ice cream on the fourth of july.

His kisses trail down attacking your neck, sucking a bruise to your hot skin, marking his territory like he owns you. Hands grab your ass, kneading the fat and pushing you deeper into him.

Your fingers pull at his belt, looping it through the buckle, frantically undoing the button. Your eyes search his, waiting for approval to continue. He nods eagerly, watching your hands slowly undo him as you pull the zipper down, he lifts his hips, shuffling his pants and boxers down just enough to free his aching cock.

His length springs free, slapping his stomach and the dark curls that make up his happy trail. You gasp at his size, long and thick with a slight curve, mouth watering at the pearl of pre cum coating his tip. You bite your lip, gripping his cock at its base making Eddie moan at the feeling of your soft hands stroking him.

"Fuck angel, that feels incredible." He groans, finally being able to feel your hands around his cock.

You lean forward coating his dick with a line of spit, massaging it on his shaft with slow strokes. "Put me inside baby, I need to feel you." He grips your hips, lifting you above his cock as you pull your panties aside and line him up with your entrance. Slowly, you sink down on his shaft, inch by inch. Eddie whines as you slide down his shaft, body shuddering at the stretching of your tight hole. "Oh fuck fuck fuck, baby youre so fucking tight."

He moans into your mouth as he fills you completely, fully seated on his hard cock you begin to bounce dragging his length along your velvet walls. Ass slapping his thighs when you pounce on him over and over.

"Wait wait." He breathes, "Can we take this inside?" You nod, as Eddie exits the car, still buried deep inside you, legs wrapped around his waist as he holds his pants with one hand and the other wrapped around your waist.

Your laugh vibrates against him at the thought of a neighbor seeing you two shuffle to the door, like two teenagers that are pressed for time. As soon as the door closes behind you he's fucking you against the wall, moans filling the room in needy passion.

"I'm sorry Peach." Before you can respond he forcefully rips your dress, fabric bunched at your midsection, bare tits bouncing in his face. "So beautiful" he mouths, squeezing your breast between his hands, taking your pebbled nipple between his lips, sucking and laving at the perky bud.

He walks you to his bedroom, flicking on the light as he throws you down against his mattress, He toes off his shoes, pulling his pants down to his ankles, stepping out and chucking them aside. Boxers still loosely hanging on, exposing the delicious V you can't wait to pepper with your wet mouth.

His hands reach to pull your dress down your body, and you flinch away, holding your dress tighter to your body, remembering your scars that mark the sides of your ribs. Scars that no one has seen, scars that make you insecure.

He worries he's done something wrong and this is where the night ends. "Hey hey, uh we could stop here sweetheart. If that's what you want."

You shake your head. "Eddie, it's just, I have these ugly scars." You can't meet his eyes, too shy and self conscious, but Eddie understands more than you think. He can't imagine any part of you is ugly and it breaks his heart knowing you thought a scar would scare him away.

"Can I show you something?" He asks, fingers unbuttoning his shirt. You nod, gaze fixed on his hands, curious as to what he wants to show you.

Belly full of nerves at what he's about to expose, he undoes each button one by one. Skin sticky with sweat from your car session and anxiety climbing up his body, he's had years to heal but this moment when he's vulnerable panic sets in.

"There's absolutely nothing ugly about you, not inside. Not out. Not now. Not ever. Do you understand?"

He's perfect. Every part of him, hand crafted with precision and detail. Carved out of precious stone and gold, polished to a shiny finish only to be held with gloved hands.

He pulls his shirt open, revealing his toned chest covered in a light spread of hair, lean stomach, itching to be touched. His skin is severely scarred, large patches of missing flesh primarily on the left side. Pink thick tissue, twisted and grooved, angry looking, although it's been healed over.

You feel stupid so incredibly stupid. It's not a competition of who has more trauma you know that; but his scars are so much larger than yours and you called them ugly when he's further from the word. You don't dismiss the pain and torture he endured at the hands of…. Whatever did that to him. You don't ask, afraid you'd sob uncontrollably at the gruesome story. If he wants to share he'll do it on his own, no need to pry.

"I'm so sorry Eddie, I didn't mean–"

"I know baby, I know."

He inches closer to where you're sitting on the bed, stalking his prey ready to pounce. Your hands reach out, roaming his toned chest, delicatley caressing the scars that cover his body. He chuckles when your fingertips tickle his abdomen as you trail down to the pattern of dark curls that lead under the waistband of his boxers. His strong hands grip your wrists, stopping you from going further.

"Show me ....please," he whispers.

Your shaky hands grip the hem of your dress, pushed up around your hips. Bringing it over your head, you toss the material to the pile on the floor. Your arms instinctively cover over your midsection, focused mostly on your sides.

Eddie studies all your curves, a fine exquisite work of art, uniquely rare, not made for the public eye, only seen in his private collection. A collection of you, and all the different angles of your body.

"You're fucking gorgeous Peach, let me show you what you do to me."

He lowers himself to his knees, strong fingers wrap around your delicate ankle, unclasping the silver buckle of your heel, removing your left shoe, then the right. His hands travel up behind your calf, over your knees, kneading the fat of your outer thighs.

He looks beautiful like this, on his knees for you, ready to worship you like the goddess he knows you are.

Wetness pools in your panties in anticipation, hands heated on your soft skin. "Lay down for me angel, I wanna see you."

You lean back, propped on your forearms, lusting over the man in front of you. Placing his hands between your knees he parts your legs, hands on each knee pressing them close to the mattress to open you. Seeing your perfect mound covered by your lacy panties, has him light headed, eyes follow down the fabric as it disappears between your ass cheeks, into a thong.

"Fuck, youre perfect." He whispers, kissing your inner thigh. It's soft at first, but the more he tastes and licks at your skin the more desperate he becomes. He inches closer to your center, pressing his nose into your clothed cunt as he inhales your scent so deeply it fills his nostrils and expands his lungs. The smell of your arousal has his eyes rolling back pulling a deep groan from his chest.

"Fuck, You smell divine baby, can I taste you?"

"Oh my god, yes." You whimper.

He licks a fat stripe up your clothed pussy, tongue prodding your hole in a tease.

"Eddieee!" You squirm, anxious to feel his mouth on you. "Don't be mean." you plead, hips bucking towards him in need.

"Shhh, just savoring you is all."

He chuckles at your squirming, hooking your thong under his finger tips, sliding them down as you lift your hips off the bed.

"Fucking hell babe, look at you." He praises, watching as the center of your panties cling to your wetness. He brings your thong to his nose inhaling your scent again. "I'm Keeping these." He smiles, shoving them in his pocket, while his eyes are fixed on your glistening cunt.

Thick fingers glide between your folds coating them with your slick, as his thumbs spread your lips wide, exposing your pink pussy to him. Head between your thighs he licks a wide stripe from your asshole to your cunt, tongue swirling around your puckered hole before he tounge fucks it, his fingers are spreading your ass cheeks apart getting him deeper into you.

"Ohhh Fuuuck Eddie." You moan, breathless and tugging at the sheets below you. Spurred by your erotic moans he begins rutting into the mattress, searching for relief.

He growls into your core as he dines on your cunt, like he's been famished for years. His expert mouth sucks on your clit, while his fingers fuck into you at an angle that hits your g spot just right.

"Ohmygod Eddieee I'm gonna cum." You cry out, back arching off the bed in pleasure as flashes of white burst behind your eyes. "Good girl." He praises, as he continues licking into you, slurping up all your essence until you're shoving his head away in overstimulation.

He's chuckling at you as you Scramble away from him, chest heaving and wiping your juices on the back of his hand.

The sight of his statuesque body fires you back up and you beckon him toward you. Drool forms in your mouth at the sight of his hard cock ready and willing to pleasure you again.

He searches for something in the closet, eyes gawking at his firm ass. It's over too soon because in a flash he's crawling over you.

You hear the unmistakable sound of metal clinking and before you know it, you're handcuffed to his bed.

"So, how does it feel?" He smirks, pressing his weight on top of your body, hands roaming over every curve.

"Like I'm about to be railed into oblivion."

A loud thunderous laugh emerges from him, chest rumbling above you. His deep dimples and crinkled eyes light up your life, paving the way to happily ever after.

"Pretty and smart. What else can I ask for?" He grins, brushing your nose with his, a gentle and sweet gesture pulling at your heart strings.

He traces the delicate lines of your body, lighting a fire where his hands have touched. You startle as he kisses your reddened scars, a permanent visual reminding you that you survived what tried to kill you.

Unable to wait any longer he grips the base of his cock, lining it up to your entrance. Pushing in inch by inch until he fills you completely.

"Fuuck I love this pussy." He raves, thrusting into you, hypnotized as his cock disappears inside you over and over.

He lifts your leg over his shoulder to get a better angle, fucking you so hard the headboard hits the wall in a rhythm thats music to your ears. You swallow his grunts and moans in breathless kisses, licking and biting at his reddened lips. Arms still restrained above your head you writhe and squirm as his thumb makes circles on your clit, lighting a fire in your belly. Flames building and building as he applies the perfect amount of pressure to your swollen bud. Your legs begin to shake and twitch as he brings you closer and closer to euphoria.

"Fuck Eddie, I'm gonna–

"Me too baby me too."

A deep guttural moan rips from his chest as white hot cum paints your walls, hips jerking forward as he empties his seed into you. Your toes uncurl from the intense orgasm that washed over you. Chest heaving and Breathless, he releases you from the cuffs, covering your face with your hands you giggle into your palms in blissful happiness.

Eddie peppers you with lazy kisses, mumbling sweet nothings.

'Amazing.'

Kiss.

'So fucking beautiful.'

Kiss.

'Like you so much'

Kiss.

When you both come down from the passionate high, he rolls off to the side, pulling out of you with a groan; already missing your warmth. Instinctivley you nestle your head on his chest, leg draped over his, as his arm wraps around your shoulders, smoothing down your hair, he brings your wrists to his mouth for delicate kisses.

"That was… mind-blowing."

"Incredible."

You both speak in unison.

The loud ring of Eddie's phone breaks the silence. He scrambles over, smiling at the screen as he checks the message. Subtly averting the screen from your peering eyes, he texts back and places his phone face down.

"Let's wash up, yeah?"

You follow Eddie to the shower where he washes every part of your body with soft strokes and sensual kisses. He invites you to see his band perform, a promise of a 2nd date with live music and drinks. To show you how electrifying his performance is he takes you against the shower walls, making you sing the song of fulfilled ecstasy.

Tangled under the covers, warm in his embrace, a deep sleep comes over the both of you. In his arms your mind's at peace, no signs of a thundering storm looming near.

Deep in the realms of dreamland you don't hear the ring of Eddie's phone, the way he quietly untangles from your body. Or the sound of his voice when he's whispering into his phone '...can't wait to see you.' You don't hear the shuffle of him dressing, or the scratching of pen on paper. You don't even feel the adoring kiss he places on your cheek. Or the sound of the door closing as he exits the room.

What you do feel, is the rays of the morning sun as it filters through the room. Cold sheets tangled between your bare legs as you stir. A once warm bed now cold and empty, lacking in the heat that brought you to your knees.

Hopeful arms search the bed, reaching the end with no one else beside you. It was a perfect night and for that you're grateful. But the clock strikes midnight, and Cinderella's dress turns to rags, magic and fairytale long gone.

A sense of loneliness engulfs you, as you sit up in his empty bed. Eddie's nowhere to be found, no shower running, no coffee brewing in the kitchen. A rouge tear rolls down your cheek and you furiously wipe it away.

You pull your dress back on with the ripped silver straps, no bra and your panties missing; a souvenir to add to his collection you're sure. With your heels in hand you do the walk of shame, out his room, down the hall.

You freeze in place as three sets of eyes stare at you in disbelief. Their smirks and wide eyes tell you they know what activities took place last night.

"Hi. Um, I'm just gonna head out." You mumble, heat rising to your cheeks in embarrassment.

You sigh at the fresh breeze that hits your skin as you exit the home, closing the door behind you. Loud laughs erupt behind the door, pausing you in your step to listen closely.

"Where is Eddie By the way?"

"Eh, you know him, fuck em and leave em, onto the next."

"She must not have been that easy. Took longer than he said it would."

"Still fucked him on the first date."

"Just like the rest."

Taglist: @amira0303 @hideoutside@edsforehead @skank-sinatra13@kissmejoey @ms1oftheboys@tlclick73 @lady-munson

Not sure if the tags are working pls let me know.

[aortaobservatory]

Hi again! :D Just wanted to thank you for your analysis and give some feedback :]

I've suspected myself to be an Heir of Space, so seeing that you considered it gives me some reassurance.

I'm absolutely sure that between Space and Breath, the values/ stuff associated with Space are much more important to me, so would it make sense to deem myself Space-bound?

Regarding the knowledge of Time.. I honestly don't really understand what that means? If it's about the crochet repetition thing, then I'd say the knowledge of it is what I voluntarily looked for, like I intended to learn the patterns and stuff. Or, if we consider Time being also associated with death, would an interest in death-related stuff and desire to learn more about it also fit? I don't know if it's too far of a stretch..

Also, if it's not too much, what is the big main difference between being a Witch and an Heir? You've pointed out ' self-assurance' 'content in the self' being present in my answers, which you associated with a Witch. So in short, what would be the main thing that designates these two?

I'm sorry if this is too much, not sure if I should ask about this here or in DM's (´・ω・`)

[Log] (For the record, I don't mind wherever you want to ask me! My inbox is probably most reliable at this point in time, but follow-ups on classpect assignments can be inquired about in the notes of the post itself (for a few quick questions or thoughts), my inbox (for a list of questions, such as this), or in my DMs (for full discussion if you'd like).)

If the values of Space are more important to you than the values of Breath, you can absolutely call yourself Space-bound.

As for Time, I can elaborate on why I focused on it. I've seen it often overlooked in other classpect descriptions, but the inverse aspect actually has as much of an effect on you as your true aspect does. Time is just as present in you as Space is; it just isn't what calls to you from the Space-Time pair. This concept of inverses being just as present/impactful as true aspects are goes for all the classpects. (For example, I as a Seer of Heart have an inverse in Witch of Mind; I lack experience in Heart and am surrounded by Mind, so I study Heart through the lens of Mind. That's why I tend to be logical and thorough in my classpect definitions).

It depends on your class how your inverse aspect affects you. If you are an active class, your inverse class is a passive class. [I explain all the inverse class pairs in this post here].

If you are a Witch of Space, your inverse class is the Seer of Time (by embodying what you chose of Space, you end up studying Time).

If you are an Heir of Space, your inverse class is the Mage of Time (by embodying Space fully, you intimately and deeply know the good and bad of Time).

Perhaps a little nerdy of me, but relevant: for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. If you Actively Change (Witch), you also Passively Know (Seer). You say you sought out the knowledge of Time that you have, and you desire to learn more about things relevant to Time (yes, death certainly is associated with Time, which is about endings), so I am even more inclined to say you may be a Witch of Space. Again, though, you are the one who decides what you are in the end.

There are many differences between the Witch and the Heir, but what I'll focus on is the contentment and where that contentment stems from.

Witches, because they specifically pick the pieces of their aspect that they like to embody, change the way their aspect is perceived by others and also how they handle their aspect, as compared to others who may share the same aspect. Witches are active classes and have direct relationships with their aspects. They also have unique takes on their aspects compared to every other class who may share their aspect; as well, there is no Witch who exists the same as any other Witch, even of the same aspect! A Witch who has had time to pick and choose what they like of their aspect and has had time to embody such things is often very happy with themself because they've built the ideal version of themself that they want to be. Their challenge as a class is to achieve a stable balance in themself without losing themself to their aspect or their own changing whims. (And if you are a Witch, I think you may be close to completing this challenge.)

Heirs, meanwhile, often have no choice in the embodiment of their aspect. Heirs are passive classes and have indirect relationships with their aspect because their inverse aspect is often more present and affective in their lives. They embody their aspect fully and completely, even too much, so much so that there is no room to change and they are stuck; they are so much of an embodiment of their aspect that it ends up looping around and limiting them. Even if they want to change, they will have trouble, but a Witch is able to easily change as according to their whim; it just depends on if the Witch wants to. An Heir gets no say, and often has to figure out a way around their aspect or get outside help if they want to change. And that happens to be a very big "if", when I say, "if they want to change". Often, an Heir is content to stay where they are because "it is what it is", or "this is how it's always been for me". Their challenge as a class is to not get stuck on their aspect, to know when to move on and change themselves to keep themselves balanced.

I hope I was able to help!

-AO

[kalevalakryze]

Baylan Skoll was never chosen to be a padawan, in this essay I will...

(this is only going to look familiar to a handful of you)

Warning, long post below with excerpts + notes about "The Jedi Path" by Daniel Wallace

"Everybody thinks they know what a Jedi is-that we all serve in the Army of the Light and fight the Sith Lords, or that we're all lightsaber battlemasters and starfighter aces. It just isn't so. Jedi can serve the Republic in other ways too. The Jedi Service Corps is an honorable alternative for any graduating Initiate, and he or she should be proud to serve among its ranks. When most initiates hit early adolescence, they seek to pair up with Masters to begin their Padawanship apprenticeships. If you are not selected, then what? You can try again the following season, but eventually, the Temple Instructors may tell you that you've run out of chances-and then the Reassignment Council steps in. So I'm thinking there was just something Baylan couldn't get; Maybe even the connection to a Jedi Master, he just didn't seem like the kind of Jedi that should have been on the battlefront, he was more of a homebody Jedi, like Yoda, or even Jocasta Nu. Maybe, after failing so often, the Reassignment Council steps in, and I see him joining the Educational branch, staying at the temple to help teach and to help in the archives, one of these devouts of the pillar of knowledge. A Note in the Book From Palpatine: "I imprisoned the surviving Jedi Service Corps Members on Byss. Even the strongest were easy to turn to the dark side." Maybe Baylan was one of these survivors, and while it's clear he didn't go full dark, what did he have to do to survive? Knowing that the younglings he'd so caringly guided were lost to the Force, that the world he'd devoted himself to studying and understanding was gone, and that this new world was just dark, and it was an 'adapt or die' situation The Jedi Path section about the EduCorps: The Education Corps, or EduCorps, consists of Scholars, teachers, and archivists. All Jedi are expected to be teachers to some degree, but the EduCorps goes far beyond that. They work under the supervision of the Temple's Chief Librarian and spend most of their days cataloging and translating. So my thoughts here are, as an archivist who spends his days combing through Jedi Holocrons, he would hear about the Mother, or Abeloth, would read about these Mortis Gods and have an intimate understanding. And when the Jedi were killed, he could recall these stories, he was the last one alive who'd ever heard them from the holocrons, after all. He would be able to remember the powers these holocrons detailed the gods as having, would trust that if anyone could save their history, it would be them, but only the Mother sounds powerful enough to stop the Empire. Finding Shin was a mistake. He was no Master, after all. He'd been granted the rank of General in the republic like all the others, yet he didn't command an army, he worked in libraries and traveled to conquered/liberated worlds to read their texts and to enter their stories into the history of the republic. He goes to a planet in the expansion zone, and he meets a child, there are so few left in this world, no one for him to share his stories with, that when she displays force sensitivity, he takes her, just as the Jedi had done to younglings all those years ago. And he trains her, he gives her a Padawan's braid and he calls her Initiate, and when it's time for her Initiate Trials, he is happy to accept her as his Padawan, like no one had ever done for him. And Shin is so attentive and an amazing student, just like the younglings in the temple, but he cannot burden her with the knowledge of Abeloth. Does not want to ruin the perception he knew she was creating of the Jedi, but he also keeps her training limited, 'The old ways led them to ruin so we will create our own,' 'yes,master' etc etc