#go treasure hunting on your own

[krys-loves-otome]

🎢🛠🌞🦅 for the ask game! <3

Fanfic Writer Emoji Asks!

🎢-Which of your fics would you call your wildest ride?

It's hard to say as my fics, at least what I think of them, they tend to be on the calmer side, no hard hitting action or crazy, off-the-wall shenanigans, or really the creation process behind most of them is a pretty calm and normal affair.

At best (and probably just me being vanilla), my wildest fics are probably the smut ones. The Experiment has my character Houki with IkeSen's Mitsunari and she tries to find out just how unaware he is when he goes into his reading trances. Happy Birthday Vincent was me being unhappy with Vincent's 4th birthday story and wanting to do his CG justice (cunnilingus for that one).

Outside of the smutlings, uhhh… probably A New Resident as there is a birthing scene and Comte cuts his arm open (it's not too heavily graphic, but yeah, mind the tags on that one).

And outside of smutlings and mutilations… Probably Reunion, my MidCin fic. MC had faked her death and Alyn had been searching for her. There's a chase scene in it and Alyn does do some breast biting, so… tame, but a little spicy, if the above ones are a little too much to handle.

🛠What tools/programs/apps do you use to write?

Onenote! It’s a note-taking program that I can use between both my laptop and my phone if I wanna write things. Though, when I wanna do some editing, figuring out what the wordcount is, and sending it off for beta-reading, I'll use google docs then.

🌞Do you have a preferred time of day to write?

When I can get around to doing it, honestly.  Sometimes I can work during daylight hours and have it be nice and coherent. Then there are also times I wake up at 3 am with an idea and have to write down before I go back to sleep. This is specifically how The Red Shawl (my Jonah von IkeRev fic) was written as well as Family (Arthur von Ikevamp's fic)  

🦅 Do you outline fics or fly by the seat of your pants?

Majority of the time, it's by the seat of my pants. Just first draft it, then edit later, no planning a lot of the time, just brain dump and go.

That aside, I do outline my IkeSen long fic A Second Glance, as by its nature (multi-chaptered) and I need to have a plan so that the plot can flow nicely.

I have posted this before on my writing blog, but here's the mostly worked out rough outline for Chapter 5 of Second Glance for a glimpse of my outlining style (when I actually do outlining that is!) Major spoilers blotted out in green!

Thanks for the ask!

[inkskinned]

the problem is that being single is seen as the consolidation prize, and not the natural neutral state of being-a-person. at the end of the movie or the book or the poetry, there is a person waiting for you at the altar, and they love you. if the play is a comedy, everyone gets married. the metaphor is about how you are not-whole. the metaphor is about how everyone is going to be happily-ever-after. the metaphor is that romantic love is the most important resource on the planet, not just all-love. all-love is not a thing, that is a disappointment. the treasure is not the friends we made along the way. the treasure is the girl you landed.

the metaphor is that you cannot be alone, that means you are broken. are you getting over someone? that is acceptable, you can be getting over someone, but not for long. you must be single because you would rather not be single. you must be single and looking to not-be-single. you must want to date, eventually.

friendship and community are never seen as being equal-to or even-better than romantic connection. that person is your one! you need to find them. you need to hunt through the sand particles until you can shift out some kind of gem. this is regardless to your own experience of the beach and the sun. you need to be somewhere with someone.

if you are taking this time alone to heal, that is so sad. everyone gives you this little pitying look. the understanding is that you are not actually happier than you were before you were single. it is seen as a sort of pity - oh, you are choosing yourself, making yourself the priority? - that isn't quite right. you must mean that you are making yourself ready for the right person. you are just laying the bed better this time. open up your heart. you'll find them, we promise!

what do you mean you're really-truly genuinely-very happy? you are probably misremembering what it was like to be in a relationship. and besides, once you meet your person, that time will look grey and bland and wasted. your person is the only way for you to see in color. so what if you have taken this time - for the first time in your entire life - to actually-for-real do the fucking work. you can be proud of yourself, sure. but the way we need to know that you got better is that you get a partner. you're healed enough for the next bad part!

people don't choose to be single, they just say they're choosing to be single - they actually mean "nobody wants to date me." it doesn't matter how many people you have gently rejected or how many times you've talked it over carefully in therapy. what matters is that you are single, and by all accounts - that means you are something worth our pity. your successes and life all seem pale in the sunlight. sure, you have done amazing things and finally found your way in life. what matters is that there wasn't a person in the room with you while you did it.

you want to tell them - that's the whole thing. i didn't know how to be alone in the room. i didn't know how to handle the silence. every moment was so sharp, and i kept choosing the wrong way to close the door. i have spent my entire life in the empty well, living in the ricochet of someone else's cruelty. for once i have built myself a ladder. for once everything i taste is all mine, every bite of sunshine and laughter. i have learned how to sleep out in the open with my memories. recently, they have started to purr.

your father rolls his eyes. listen. this isn't about you. i just want a grandchild in my future.

[writingwithfolklore]

5 Tips for Creating Intimidating Antagonists

Antagonists, whether people, the world, an object, or something else are integral to giving your story stakes and enough conflict to challenge your character enough to change them. Today I’m just going to focus on people antagonists because they are the easiest to do this with!

1. Your antagonist is still a character

While sure, antagonists exist in the story to combat your MC and make their lives and quest difficult, they are still characters in the story—they are still people in the world.

Antagonists lacking in this humanity may land flat or uninteresting, and it’s more likely they’ll fall into trope territory.

You should treat your antagonists like any other character. They should have goals, objectives, flaws, backstories, etc. (check out my character creation stuff here). They may even go through their own character arc, even if that doesn’t necessarily lead them to the ‘good’ side.

Really effective antagonists are human enough for us to see ourselves in them—in another universe, we could even be them.

2. They’re… antagonistic

There’s two types of antagonist. Type A and Type B. Type A antagonist’s have a goal that is opposite the MC’s. Type B’s goal is the same as the MC’s, but their objectives contradict each other.

For example, in Type A, your MC wants to win the contest, your antagonist wants them to lose.

In Type B, your MC wants to win the contest, and your antagonist wants to win the same contest. They can’t both win, so the way they get to their goal goes against each other.

A is where you get your Draco Malfoy’s, other school bullies, or President Snow’s (they don’t necessarily want what the MC does, they just don’t want them to have it.)

B is where you get the other Hunger Games contestants, or any adventure movie where the villain wants the secret treasure that the MCs are also hunting down. They want the same thing.

3. They have well-formed motivations

While we as the writers know that your antagonist was conceptualized to get in the way of the MC, they don’t know that. To them, they exist separate from the MC, and have their own reasons for doing what they do.

In Type A antagonists, whatever the MC wants would be bad for them in some way—so they can’t let them have it. For example, your MC wants to destroy Amazon, Jeff Bezos wants them not to do that. Why not? He wants to continue making money. To him, the MC getting what they want would take away something he has.

Other motivations could be: MC’s success would take away an opportunity they want, lose them power or fame or money or love, it could reveal something harmful about them—harming their reputation. It could even, in some cases, cause them physical harm.

This doesn’t necessarily have to be true, but the antagonist has to believe it’s true. Such as, if MC wins the competition, my wife will leave me for them. Maybe she absolutely wouldn’t, but your antagonist isn’t going to take that chance anyway.

In Type B antagonists, they want the same thing as the MC. In this case, their motivations could be literally anything. They want to win the competition to have enough money to save their family farm, or to prove to their family that they can succeed at something, or to bring them fame so that they won’t die a ‘nobody’.

They have a motivation separate from the MC, but that pesky protagonist keeps getting in their way.

4. They have power over the MC

Antagonists that aren’t able to combat the MC very well aren’t very interesting. Their job is to set the MC back, so they should be able to impact their journey and lives. They need some sort of advantage, privilege, or power over the MC.

President Snow has armies and the force of his system to squash Katniss. She’s able to survive through political tension and her own army of rebels, but he looms an incredibly formidable foe.

Your antagonist may be more wealthy, powerful, influential, intelligent, or skilled. They may have more people on their side. They are superior in some way to the protagonist.

5. And sometimes they win

Leading from the last point, your antagonists need wins. They need to get their way sometimes, which means your protagonist has to lose. You can do a bit of a trade off that allows your protagonist to lose enough to make a formidable foe out of their antagonist, but still allows them some progress using Fortunately, Unfortunately.

It goes like… Fortunately, MC gets accepted into the competition. Unfortunately, the antagonist convinces the rest of the competitors to hate them. Fortunately, they make one friend. Unfortunately, their first entry into the competition gets sabotaged. Fortunately, they make it through the first round anyway, etc. etc.

An antagonist that doesn’t do any antagonizing isn’t very interesting, and is completely pointless in their purpose to heighten stakes and create conflict for your protagonist to overcome. We’ll probably be talking about antagonists more soon!

Anything I missed?

[shiny-jr]

I’ve just had a vision, what if a yan (e.g riddle or vil because they are most princess-ish) was a trapped in a castle away like in one of those stereotypical fairy tales and the reader decides to save them because they are a ‘damsel in distress’ and reader is like a hero… only to realise there is a reason why they were locked away (because they were batshit crazy)

Warning: Yandere. Gender-neutral reader.

Characters: Vil Schoenheit.

Summary: You are a thief with freshly stolen goods. Chased and hunted down, you avoid capture by finding a castle hidden in gloom and fog. Locals told legends of this place, saying a royal had been trapped within. Of course, you don't quite believe such tall tales. That is, until you discover the royal and learned that they were purposefully sealed inside...

Note: I think I'll call this one, not your valiant savior. It's just a placeholder name for now. Just a quick post, so sorry if it's bad.

It was too easy. What did they expect when they left out a priceless object owned by the royal family and estimated to be worth a fortune? Of course a famed thief on the loose such as yourself, would just be itching to snatch the relic. And snatch you did, living up to your reputation of thief. Each member having unique abilities to assist in stealing. Your mother had speed to outrun anyone in a chase, your grandfather had the talent of picking any locks, your great-grandmother could sweet-talk anyone then rob them blind. And so on and so forth.

And of course, you had your own talent. As quiet as a mouse and with fingers that stuck to valuables like glue, stealing became like second nature. Literally. However, it wasn't exactly a talent valued by the wider community, and if you stole enough you could end up on terribly drawn wanted posters. Which is why staying in one place wasn't wise.

From place to place, you went taking and claiming anything of worth. When you got very low on cash, you set your sights high: on the vault that stored the royal's priceless treasures. There was bound to be endless riches stored within, if only you could get your grubby hands on them. Well, after careful planning, you had. It wasn't a giant gem or sack full of gold.

Time was short, so you had grabbed the closest thing you could before guards could find you. A golden box encrusted with jewels. Who knew what was inside? Maybe some family heirloom, a magical artifact, or something else of high value. And with the box, you bolted, and the chase had begun out of the city and through the woods.

As fast as you could, you ran through the mystic woods, a forrest travelers and locals alike were all wary of. It was the safest place you could go when chased by frightening palace guards on horseback that would do anything to take back what you stole and drag you back to the gallows. Even the woods heavy with fog and dark from the clouds overhead, had deterred your pursuers enough for you to slip out of their reach and deeper into the forrest where there was no way they would be able to track you. Here, you would have to wait until tomorrow and depart early. Then, you'd be home free and rich beyond your wildest dreams.

After what felt like hours of walking, you stumbled upon a bridge over a gloomy lake. In the middle, sat an old castle of gray stone and dark windows. A castle once said to hold a royal captive, but of course, you didn't believe such stories that were so old they were told to your own grandparents. This castle would be your sanctuary for the night. And maybe, just maybe, you'd clutch the jeweled box and dream of simpler times when you were told fairytales of locked away royals waiting for a savior.

The castle was exactly like those set in spooky tales, haunted by vengeful spirits and claimed by ghosts. It appeared abandoned, that much was obvious by the crumbling stone bridge and the battered old wooden doors that once protected the inhabitants.

Cautiously stepping over the splintered debris of the front door, you didn’t bother boarding it up since no one would be stupid enough to follow you inside.

There was wreckage and ruin everywhere. If you had to guess, whatever happened here, whether the people were driven away by conflict or time, it was followed by the destruction of time. Time with weather were likely all factors that led to the disarray of what was probably once a grand estate. Strangely enough, there was furniture and decor. Everything coated in dust and grime, but still here. Had people been too afraid to enter the grounds? There were so many valuables that could've been looted!

"I'll definitely have to come back here later." You scoff, turning over a few clothes or broken furniture with your foot to uncover possible hidden goodies. Maybe something as small but valuable as a ring was lost somewhere on the ground.

Proceeding to carry the golden box under your arm, you decide to search for the cleaniest, not-so-moldy room where you could spend the night. On the third floor halls, you see ripped curtains and frames where portraits loosely hung. Every rug was brown with dirt and dust.

There were items left behind, which showcased the life one led here. A piano too big to steal, the skeleton of a chandelier and broken gems hanging from its limbs, empty glass perfume bottles now filled with dust. The place must've been wondrous once, but now it was like a tomb. A setting frozen in time.

When you found moonlight filtering through the open balcony of what looked to be the master bedroom, you paused to see the space wrecked more than the others. As if more than just weather and time had affected this place. The owner of this castle likely slept in this very room, on that very bed where the sheets were ruffled and unkempt.

"I wonder who used to live here..." You murmur to no one in particular, as you approach the balcony looking over the bridge and woods. This would be a good vantage point.

A heavy fog settled over the woods, extending over the bridge like water. Good, an extra layer for cover. You stepped back into the room, analyzing every carved piece of wooden furniture, makeup and brushes stored on tabletops, a separate room as long as a hallway and filled with all types of articles of clothing.

If all this was still here, then was it possible some jewelry was left behind? You scoured the room, looking for hidden compartments while murmuring to yourself to fill the ominous silence. As you pulled back a curtain against a wall, you furrowed your eyebrows when you saw an uneven lump underneath the wallpaper.

Could this be handle leading to a vault of treasures? With that in mind, you ripped off the old wallpaper. A glimmer of gold made your heart soar with hope, but when you caught sight of your reflection, you stopped and stared. A mirror. It was a large mirror, oval shaped, with golden borders so intricately decorated. However, when a hand suddenly appeared on the other side of the mirror, like a ghostly apparition, you screamed and stumbled back.

A hand– there was a hand in the mirror! You stared with widened eyes full of shock, as the hand pressed its palm against the surface of the glass. You couldn't see anything else, no one behind the hand. After a second, the slim pale hand delicately pointed a long dainty finger at the box you were holding in a vice grip.

"What...? This? You want this? But..."

You had worked hard to procure this golden box from the royals. Pursing your lips, you contemplated your options, with so many questions running rampant in your mind. What was that thing? A magic mirror? A magic mirror would be priceless, much more valuable than any gold. However, if it was magic, it would be tricky. Possibly even sentient. So you'd have to gain its favor.

"Alright, alright, the box. You know, I went through hell trying to get this."

You informed the mirror, unsure if it even understood you. You carefully set down the heavy box in front of the mirror, and watch as the hand made a motion with its fingers.

Click!

It had unlocked the box, without even a key or tool. A grin broke out on your face. Had it done it for you? Apparently not, because the box opened on its own and a heavy thick tome floated out from it and into the air. The hand beckoned the tome closer, and closer it came, until it was literally phasing through the glass.

"Hey! Wait––"

The glass shattered, the sound booming and ringing out in the silence like an explosion. You only had a second to react, instinctually using your arms to shield your face from the glass flying out in every direction. When it stopped, you looked around. The mattress was shredded, the curtains torn to shreds, wooden furniture cut as if done by an axe, but miraculously you were somehow unharmed.

A breath, not of your own, caught your attention. Your eyes darted over to the now broken mirror, awestruck at the vision of a figure stepping over broken glass. They were beautiful, gorgeous, stunning, more than any words could convey. Their hair like gold and eyes an alluring shade of purple like two amethyst stones, soft pink lips, and a tall slim pale figure clothed in odd robes. For a moment, whoever this person was, appeared disoriented for a brief moment, but they clutched the tome like a lifeline. The tome that came from the box you had stolen.

"Thank you––"

He breathed, his voice quiet as he attempted to stand tall and upright. When his legs nearly gave out beneath him, you were there to catch his hand and prevent him from falling as he looked at you with appreciation. You were just stunned, bewildered, in pure disbelief.

"You... You freed me. You returned my stolen tome...!"

He exclaimed in disbelief, as he restored his posture. Somehow, he was able to stand in heels, but heels were currently one of the least important details.

What did he mean freed?

There was no time to ask any questions. The loud sound of the shattering must've alerted any of your pursuers that had followed you thus far, because from the balcony you could make out the torchlights weaving their way directly towards the bridge.

The mysterious man from the mirror took notice of your expression of dismay as he glanced at the distant torchlights. Smoothing out his robes, he looked back at you and took in your expression. "Enemies of yours?"

"Yes..." You nod slowly.

"Now that just won't do. I can't have anyone harming, or even killing my savior. I've yet to even learn your name." Tapping some well-manicured fingers against the spine of the tome, he appeared to contemplate something. When he stopped tapping his fingers, he smiled so sweetly. "I am Vil Schoenheit, prince and prodigy. Here's my proposition to you, my savior: I will destroy your enemies for a small price. You must tell me your name, and I will grant you my protection."

Of course you gave him your name, and almost immediately you saw the fog below turn an odd color. The torchlights flickered out, you no longer heard their encouraged shouts to move forward but instead their screams echoing in the dark woods. All after Vil murmured a few words in a foreign tongue read from his tome, as he continued to gaze at your intently. What exactly was he to cause so much death in a single instant with hardly any effort...? And you were stuck in this abandoned castle with him.

The prince had no plans to abandon you, he's made that much clear when you attempted to casually part ways after thanking him for getting rid of your pursuers. Stay. I can make it worth your while. Once I reach my former glory, you'll be able to bask in it with me. Is what he said as you swore you heard the front of the castle be sealed shut.

The entire time he looked around the castle with disdain, cross as he complained about the state of his home. While helping him clean up some rooms, he told you more about himself. Vil was a prince who once lived in this castle, set to inherent the throne shortly after the death of his father. However, he was widely feared due to being a prodigy in dark magics and genius at brewing concoctions. For attempting to steal the life of a younger kinder foreign prince who specialized in good magic, he was trapped in a mirror with his tome being the only key to grant him freedom.

Vil actually appeared to be much too fond of you, which you attributed to his isolation. If you were imprisoned all alone in a mirror for centuries, you likely would've gone insane. It was a miracle Vil's mind was intact, but maybe he wasn't there entirely. Because what sane person killed people with the snap of their fingers while smiling so kindly at the one who set him free?

Pridefully he listed off his feats and accomplishments. Living prodigy. Most beautiful man in the land. Prince of the land. It felt too much like flaunting, as he wanted you to realize how truly great he was. He replaced your clothes with his own, and while combing your hair he reminded you that what's rightfully his will be returned to him one day, and you would be there beside him that day.

The crown was what he wanted, a crown he believed was stolen from him and passed down to the descendants of the very good prince he attempted to kill. He spoke of a future in the castle restored to its former glory, where citizens would be loyal to him once again, and those that wronged him will receive a fate worse than death. Positions were open for applying once he became king, he told you one day. He was still searching for a vassal, a knight, a jester, or a partner to wear a crown as well.

Was it the isolation that had driven him to become so attached to the one who set him free? It was possible, but you couldn't even be sure. For all you knew, he could've been like this before he became trapped in the mirror. What mattered now was that he did not make any effort to hide his attraction towards you. Vil was offering a thief all the riches he would attain after his plan for vengeance, and his heart in a golden box.

"Keep the knives I gifted you, although I doubt you'll have to resort to lifting a finger. Just allow me to handle it when the time comes. I want to extract vengeance slowly and painfully, make them hurt just as they did to me... And at the end of the day, you will be there, you little thief who stole my affections, to comfort me and drive away those memories of cold lonely centuries in darkness. You'll be there for me, won't you, my valiant savior?"

[bucketsofmonsters]

On The Altar

cw: kidnapping, size difference, attempted human sacrifice, indoctrination, culty vibes, blood, hunting animals for food, self-loathing, allusions to drowning, heights, non-human genitalia, voyeurism, oral sex, threesome, unprotected sex, everyone in this is having a rough time

male dragon x male knight x fem reader

word count: 12k

Your breath caught as you stared at yourself in the mirror and a sort of disappointment washed over you. The white ceremonial dress draped across your form, fitted perfectly to you. 

You were supposed to look better than you ever had. Your heart sank a little when realized you didn’t think you did. 

Your birthday a few months ago. You thought you looked better then. 

You should have toned it down, not given yourself such a high bar to clear. It was your own fault, really. 

It had just been your last one. You'd wanted to make it count

Your head felt heavy with the ceremonial braids in your hair and the golden crown atop your head. It matched the rest of your accessories. Golden bracelets and necklaces and cuffs that circled your biceps. 

You wondered if it was real gold. Of course, everyone said it was but it seemed like a difficult thing to manage, a whole set of new golden adornments made every year just for it to be lost. A Sisyphean task. 

You didn’t have to worry about that. Your responsibility was far from that of the clothing and jewelry makers. You didn’t have to do any work at all, a crowd of women ensuring you didn’t so much as lift a finger on your day, bathing you and dressing you in unfamiliar clothes. 

You’d spent the whole day preparing. This was the first time you’d had a chance to breathe. 

Excitement and nerves all swelled inside of you, neither able to snuff the other out. 

Time was flying by and you weren’t sure whether you wanted it to slow or speed up. Part of you wanted to cherish these last few moments but it was almost here. It was almost your time. 

They tied you up. Not that they had to. You weren’t going anywhere. It was just tradition. 

You forgot to treasure your last moments of sight before someone behind you pulled a blindfold over your eyes. 

All you were left to do was imagine it. Being pulled from where you stood on the shore, being dragged under the water, the air leaving you as you fulfilled your duty.

And the town saved. 

They’d do it again next year and again the next, just like they had for decades. But this year was yours. You would save them. 

What a privilege it was to die for them. 

You wondered if the ropes ruined the lines of your dress. You supposed you’d never find out. 

Something hooked around your shoulders and you couldn’t help but flinch. You took in a big gulp of air instinctually, knowing what was coming. 

You braced yourself to be dragged forwards and instead slipped backward as you were lifted in the wrong direction. The ground disappeared from under you before you could fall. 

Your legs kicked, searching for anything below you, but you found nothing. The wind rushed up around you and despite your lack of vision, you could feel that you were rising up and up and up. 

You were meant to be dragged down to the depths and yet here you were, being hoisted into the sky. Claws dug into your skin and you were still blind and disoriented. Fear overtook you. 

You reached up and felt at whatever was carrying you, finding scaly skin connected to the strong talons digging into your shoulders. 

And then, as quickly as you’d been scooped up, you were being dropped. Rocks scraped your skin as you tumbled onto a hard stone floor. The bindings had come undone during the fall and you scrambled for your blindfold, squinting when the harsh light reached your eyes. 

As your vision began to adjust, you saw an enormous figure in front of you. At first, all you could see was a silhouette. Massive wings curled into the figure and the dragon that was slowly coming into focus in front of you stared right back at you. 

It was retreating into mounds of shiny things, gold and silver, old pieces of armour and crowns and candelabras piled into the cave you’d been thrown into. 

It stood out amongst the collection, a hulking creature with scales that shone a dark bronze that matched little of his horde. It was probably 20 feet long, its head cocked to the side as it watched you. 

Your instincts screamed at you to run, to get as far away from the creature as possible. 

You took a deep breath and tried to steady yourself. If you tried to run it could just scoop you up again. Besides, the last thing you wanted to do was activate a hunting instinct. Maybe right now, covered in gold jewelry, he saw you as something for his horde. It was certainly preferable to the alternative. 

He didn’t seem to be eating you, which you took as a good sign. Maybe if you removed the gold from yourself, it would lose interest in you and you could sneak out. If you rushed and were lucky, maybe you could even make it back in time. A sacrifice without the ceremonial adornments wasn’t ideal but it would certainly be better than nothing. 

You slowly lifted your hand to the golden cuff on your bicep, praying it wouldn’t think you were trying to take it. You tried to rip it from the white fabric of your dress, wanting to return home with at least some of your dignity, and your clothes, intact. 

Its head tilted further to the side and then a voice sounded, echoing off the walls. “What are you doing? Why would you ruin such a lovely dress?”

You froze at the noise, looking up wide-eyed at the creature. It couldn’t have. That wasn’t possible. Dragons were forces of chaos. Mindless beasts, nothing more. 

You blinked slowly, wondering if maybe you hadn’t woken up this morning quite yet. Or perhaps you’d been pulled underwater too quickly to notice and this was the oxygen deprivation messing with your mind. 

“Hello,” you responded. 

Its jaw opened to reveal layers of teeth in a ghoulish imitation of a smile. “Hello!”

You felt your heart stutter in your chest. “What… why did you take me?” You tried your best to keep your voice steady. The last thing you wanted was to upset the creature. 

“You were out there to be taken, yes?”

Oh. You supposed you were. Perhaps you’d been sending mixed messages to the monsters of the world. 

You wondered if maybe some town made sacrifices just like you to dragons.

“I was,” you said cautiously. “But not for you. For the creatures of the deep. Fishing is our life, it’s how we survive. We need the waters to be safe.”

“Not… what? You’re… but I thought. So you weren’t out there for me?” He sounded heartbroken. 

“It’s fine,” you said, keeping your voice level. “Misunderstandings happen. Just take me back and everything will be fine.”

“No, it doesn’t make sense. You’re covered in gold. You can’t just cover someone in gold and not expect a dragon to come snatch them up. You must have known. You must be for me.”

“Well, I’m not. And I would love to go home now.”

“What do they even want with you?” it asked, avoiding any discussion of bringing you back. “I don’t know much about humans but I know you aren’t water creatures. They couldn’t even take you anywhere, they’d have to come all the way up to visit you every day.”

Now it was your turn to be confused. “What?”

You’d assumed he’d taken you for the same reasons as the creatures you sacrificed maidens to every year. To take and consume, to feel worshiped. But it sounded like this dragon had entirely different ideas as to why a monster would want a sacrifice. 

“I wouldn’t have to just visit you,” he said. “I could be with you all the time. Take good care of you. No water involved. I’d keep you warm and fed and completely dry.”

“I’m not given to be a pet,” you snapped. 

The creature reeled back and began backpedaling instantly. “I didn’t mean you’re like a pet, I just meant…”

“They were going to kill me,” you said. “I’m a sacrifice. They need to kill me. It’s the only way.”

It took him a minute to understand what you could possibly mean by that. You could practically see the wheels turning in his head as he tried to understand. 

You didn’t have time for this. “Just take me back,” you pleaded with him. 

He paused. “They’re going to kill you?”

“It’s none of your concern what they’re going to do.”

He dropped his head low, resting it on his tail with a huff. “Then I’m not taking you anywhere.”

Your heart sank. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“I can’t let them hurt you.”

You let out an exasperated groan, burying your head in your hands. “It has to happen, without it so many more will perish. 

“What if I start terrorizing your village!” the dragon said, with the intonation of someone who’d just had a great idea but none of the content. “Or say I would if I didn’t have you. Then your sacrifice won’t have been for nothing.”

Reasoning with him was starting to seem pointless. “Please don’t.”

“Well, either way, I’m not letting you go back. If I let you go, it would be like I hurt you. No, you can stay here.”

You could not do this, couldn’t argue with this strange creature who was incapable of understanding how vital it was that you returned so your town had its proper sacrifice. 

You stormed over to the corner of the cave, leaning against the cold stone wall with a huff. 

He just stared at you, neverendingly, undeterred by your attitude. 

“It can’t be comfortable over there,” he called out to you.

“Leave me alone!” you shouted back, curling in further on yourself. 

He wanted to approach you, you could tell that much. His hesitation was evident and he took small steps forwards before pulling himself back, repeating the gesture over and over until he seemed to come to a conclusion. 

“Alright. I can go for a while. Don’t hurt yourself.” 

With that, he gave you a final once-over and flew out of the cave. 

He was hard to read. The way a dragon worked was unfamiliar to you. The most you could do was take guesses and try your best. Hopefully, you wouldn’t be around long enough to figure out the intricacies of dragon body language. 

You should run. If you were going to have a chance to escape, this would be it. 

As you edged out of the cave, your dreams of making it down the mountain were crushed. There was, technically, a sort of path down the mountain. It was barely a few feet wide with a sheer cliff at the edge of it. 

You hadn’t eaten since this morning. You were scared and exhausted and there was a slight tremor in your hands you couldn’t quite seem to rid yourself of. There was no way you could safely traverse that path. 

You went back into the cave with a huff, waiting for your captor to return. 

Eventually, he did, blood dripping down his face as he dropped an animal in front of you. It was hard to tell what it was with the way it was mangled. It was clearly a fresh kill. 

You stared blankly at him, edging further away and into the cave wall. 

At your lack of reaction, he nudged the creature towards you. “You should eat,” he said. 

“I can’t eat that.”

You prayed he wouldn’t try and force you. 

“Why don’t you just eat me?” you spat at him. “At least it would be better than this.” 

At least then you wouldn’t have to live with the knowledge that you’d failed, and your village would pay the price. 

He tilted his head once more. “Why would I do that? I’ve wanted to meet a human for a very very long time. I’ve got another friend too, come look.”

He started to wander back into the cave, behind piles of gold and you hesitantly followed him on shaky legs. 

When you reached the back of the dark cave, you found a single, frightened sheep sitting atop a massive patch of grass that seemed to have been uprooted from the ground. 

“I took him from a field. I couldn’t eat him, he had sad eyes.”

“Do I have sad eyes?” you asked. Maybe that was why he insisted on keeping you, refusing to let you go back home. 

He looked at you and as hard as it was to read the facial expressions of a dragon, you knew exactly what he was thinking.

“Is it that bad?” you asked as you looked away.

“Not bad. You just look like you're hurting.”

If you were it was because of him. This was supposed to be the best day of your life, the only day that mattered. And instead, you were here, looking at a poor terrorized sheep who was in the same position you were in. 

“So, what can you eat?” the dragon asked. Before you could give an answer, it said, “Nevermind, I’ve got an idea.”

You didn’t get the chance to ask him what it was. He was off again, moving through the cave until you heard the telltale flapping noise that meant you were alone once more.

You looked down at the sheep again. 

Maybe not entirely alone. 

He returned swiftly with a whole market cart in tow. It had piles of bread in it, although they were a little worse for wear from the flight. You had no doubt that some unsuspecting farmers had found it raining loaves of bread as he made his way back. 

You were too hungry to worry about scolding him for the thievery. You grabbed the first piece you could get your hands on and took the biggest bite you were capable of.

Your dragon watched, seemingly entranced by the sight. 

As you chewed your first bite of freshly baked bread he asked, “I did alright this time?”

You nodded, unable to speak through the mouthful of food. 

As you finished scarfing down your bread, you sat in the grass with your new sheep companion and asked your captor, “Do you have a name?”

The dragon considered this for a moment. “No. No one has ever needed to call me anything.”

“Oh. I thought dragons would have names.”

“They do. Just not me.”

You looked up at him, brow furrowed. “What, just you?”

He hummed in acknowledgment, the vibrations from the noise cascading through the stone under you. “Didn’t bother to give me one. I was the runt so you know how it is. Or maybe you don’t. I don’t really know how people work. With dragons, the littlest one always has to go. That’s the way it is.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. I get a little lonely but now you’re here!”

You rolled your eyes, collapsing back into the grass. If you closed your eyes you could pretend you were outside your village lying in a field instead of trapped in a dark cave on a cold mountain. “Yeah, now I’m here.”

The moment couldn’t last. It was too cold, there was no wind. The air smelled different. 

“You know,” you said. “We had stories about dragons. Big terrifying ones that wanted to hurt people. My mother used to tell me stories of Pytho. I was so scared of him when I was little.”

“Oh.” You heard his wings rustle and opened one of your eyes to peek over at him, shuffling uncomfortably in place. 

“I could call you Pytho,” you added. “It’s the only dragon name I know.”

“If you think it fits, I suppose. I thought you said he was big and scary?”

You laughed. “Well, from my perspective, you’re pretty big and scary.”

Instead of being pleased at your words, he reeled back. “Are you scared of me?”

You shrugged. “I was. Not so much anymore. Honestly, I think on any other day, I would’ve liked you”

“But not today?”

You shook your head. “Not today.”

“Well then,” he said as he began to curl up into a ball, “Maybe tomorrow.”

You backed up, leaning against the cold wall, and tried to suppress your tears at the thought that there would be a tomorrow for you at all. 

When you woke up, it was all still real. A dragon snored beside you as a sheep stared at you with the saddest gaze you’d ever seen. 

Maybe, as you looked at it, it thought the same thing about you. 

Pytho stirred from his slumber, immediately turning to check on you.  

When you felt his warm breath directed at you, you realized just how cold you were. Not that you were going to do anything about it. Your only source of warmth was the dragon in front of you and you were going to go nowhere near him. 

You clench your fists, doing your best to stop the shivering. 

He didn’t seem to notice. With the warmth that he radiated, you were sure that the concept of being cold was something that was foreign to him. 

You turned away from the creature. If he wouldn’t take you back, the least you could do was deprive him of your attention.

It wasn’t much but it was all you had. 

The day passed slowly but still, it passed. You spent it wallowing in the corner. 

Pytho left you alone after the first few outbursts. He seemed to understand that you needed your space. You could appreciate him for at least that much. 

As the sun began to set once more, you began to realize just how much warmth and light the day had brought to this miserable cave. 

You curled in on yourself, not far from how Pytho slept. 

You watched him begin to settle in for the night and saw a moment of hope where he tried to move closer to you. You glared at him and he stopped in his tracks. 

“You’re still upset with me,” he noted. 

“Of course I am. There’s nothing for me now. It was supposed to be over and now it’s not. You took that from me.”

“I took your ending,” he said, and you knew he understood.

“You did.”

“You’ll find a new ending someday.”

“But that one was mine. It mattered,” you said, frustrated that he couldn’t seem to get it.

“You matter.”

You scoffed. “I did.”

“You do.”

You turned away from him with a huff. “You don’t understand. You can’t.”

“Goodnight, little human.”

You fell into a fitful sleep against the cold stone of the cave. When you woke, however, you felt warm and safe. 

You opened your eyes to find Pytho standing over you, his body heat covering you in waves of warmth, even when he wasn’t touching you. 

“You were shivering,” he said, like it was that simple. You were cold, he was warm. There wasn’t anything else to be done. You hadn’t even known he understood what shivering was. 

You slid away from him, back into the cold. 

He watched you. That’s all he ever seemed to do. Watch you. “You’re mad at me but you’re punishing yourself.”

You didn’t dignify that with a response. “Let me go back.”

“I will not.”

You tried to sleep again but the cold felt harsher now, crueler. It was your turn to watch him, remember the waves of heat across your skin. 

You waited until his breathing leveled out, the rise and fall of his chest becoming uniform. You couldn’t handle a smug look or excitement. You just needed to sleep. 

You took the few steps between you slowly and gently leaned against his side. 

Almost instantly, without thinking, he curled around you, bundling you up in a nest of warm scales. His breathing was steady against your side. 

You’d never slept better. 

You woke to find his head a few inches from yours, propped up on his tail and staring at you with a soft gaze. 

“Good morning,” he said.

You gave him a hum of acknowledgment back. 

You were wracked with guilt. How could you be enjoying this, allowing yourself even these minor comforts? It wasn’t right. None of this was right. 

You pulled away from him, feeling sick.

Traitor. You’d betrayed them after they’d put so much trust in you. Who knew what was happening to them now, while you slept feeling warm and comfortable. 

“You still want to go?” he asked in hushed tones as you backed away, clearly afraid of the answer. 

You nodded. “I’m always going to want to go. I have to make this right.”

He let out a pained whine and moved towards you slowly, giving you the chance to stop him. 

You didn’t.

“You could be happy here,” he insisted. “Why won’t you just be happy here?”

“It just wasn’t meant to be." 

“Don’t want you to get hurt,” he whined out. 

You pressed your forehead to his. “Does it not matter what I want?”

He let out a huff and hot air cascaded over your face. He was always so warm. 

You pressed a kiss to his scaly nose. “I know you want to help, but I have to do this. Please let me do this.”

And he stared. Just stared at you, like he was drinking it in, trying to memorize you. 

Finally, his face fell and you knew exactly what it meant. 

“If you change your mind…” he said. “If you ever get the chance, come back to me. You’ll always have a safe place here.”

You nodded, still holding his head in your hands. You knew you never would, but it was nice to imagine returning someday. 

You looked down at your dress, dirty and torn, and you finished ripping off the golden cuff you’d started to tear days ago. 

“You can have this if you want. For what could have been.”

His eyes were glassy. You didn’t know dragons could cry. He grasped the golden cuff in his talons, tucking it away far from the rest of the gold, instead next to his beloved sheep. “For what could have been.”

A forlorn laugh escaped you as you looked at him. All three of you had sad eyes now. 

Before either of you had the chance to rethink it, he moved towards the mouth of the cave and you followed. 

Familiar talons grasped your shoulders and you were off again. 

This time, there was no blindfold. An entire landscape unfolded below you and you watched towns and rivers and forests pass you by at incredible speeds. 

Your hands reached up to grab Pytho’s legs, the seer distance to the ground making you dizzy. 

The flight was shorter than you remembered. You wished it wasn’t but as your feet touched grass, real grass rooted in the real ground, you knew there was nothing to be done. 

He dropped you off near the village but still outside of it. It was for the best, you couldn’t imagine anyone inside the town would be particularly pleased to see him. Worst case scenario, they might even try and hurt him. 

As soon as you’d properly landed he flew off, leaving you behind. No parting words, no last look. Before you knew it he was gone, a distant silhouette on a blue sky. 

 Good. You didn’t want him to see what might happen here anyways. 

The walk back was too quiet. You could hear the birds and the wind but none of it was enough to drown out the blood rushing in your ears. 

You didn’t know why your heart was pounding so loudly. This was what you wanted. You were back, ready to repent for the crime of being stolen. 

The first person who saw you was a boy. He couldn’t have been more than ten. He wandered on the outskirts of the village but as soon as he saw you he turned and ran back into the town, probably telling tales of your miraculous homecoming. 

You’d been so caught up in your return you had managed to think of little else but now, as you neared society once more, you realized what a mess you’d become. Your sacrificial dress was brown with now much dirt it had collected, ripped and shredded and hanging off of you in tatters. You were sure your face and hair were just as dirty. 

You walked further and further into town, unsure of what to do with yourself. You’d assumed someone else would tell you what to do but instead, they grouped together and stared, whispering and pointing as you trudged your way through the village. 

As you reached the center of town, you found a gathering waiting for you. 

You stopped in front of them, waiting as they inspected you. The same people who’d helped ready you and told you how vital you were to the town now looked down at you with thinly veiled disdain plastered across their faces. 

“I came back as soon as I could,” you said, your voice sounding small and weak. 

The man at the front of the group, the one who chose the sacrifices, made speeches about its vitalness every year, spoke. His voice boomed across the gathering. It didn’t feel fair. He was accustomed to speaking to crowds like this. You weren’t meant for this, of course you sounded small. “We chose another,” he said, and his words echoed in your ears. 

Your heart sank in your chest. Of course they did. What else would they have done? At least it meant the town was safe. So why did it sting so badly? 

“I can do it next year,” you said. “Please, let me do it next year. I’m here now.”

The man turned up his nose at you. “You abandoned your post.”

You could feel yourself getting more and more frantic as he spoke. “No, I was taken. I came back as soon as I could, I promise! Please.”

“An example must be made.”

You nodded, searching for a way out, any way you could still be useful. “Anything. I’ll do anything.”

The women who’d helped you bathe and get dressed a few days prior surged forwards, grasping at your arms. They held you in place as you refused to struggle. 

“This is what happens to deserters,” he called out over the crowd.

You could barely think, barely hear his words. 

The fact that you’d been replaced kept running through your mind. You’d been raised for this. It was all you’d ever wanted. You’d dreamed of it. 

You weren’t so sure you wanted it anymore. 

It didn’t matter anyways. It was too late. You’d left. 

The man chanting to the crowd pulled out a knife. 

It felt like what you deserved. Your chest tightened with guilt and fear. Now it wouldn’t even be for anything. Just an example, nothing more. 

Maybe it was saving them, in a way. Saving them from an epidemic of girls who thought they could escape it and damn the town in the meantime. Maybe you still could die for something. 

A thudding sound echoes in your ears, slightly out of time with your heartbeat. It felt almost grounding, helped you ignore the chants of deserter and heathen. You didn’t have the strength to try and defend yourself, to insist that no, you’d fought to come back. You weren’t even sure you believed that anymore. You latched onto the thudding, anything to get those words out of your head. 

And then the arms that had held you down were being ripped away and instead you found yourself being lifted. This was not the endless upwards motion of your dragon. Instead, you found yourself hoisted onto the back of a horse. 

Hard metal dug into your side and you looked up to see a knight in full armour, his face hidden by his helm and his arm hooked around your waist. 

You pounded your fists against him, fighting to be let go. “No!” you shouted. “I need to do this. I need to be forgiven.”

The knight's grip on you tightened and the horse you were both on sped up. Neither seemed to find your fighting anything more than mildly inconvenient. 

Before long, your struggle slowed. You were becoming very used to the intense frustration that accompanied being trapped, being taken away with no regard for what you wanted. 

You lost track of time as you rode. You’d just been trying to make things right, even if you couldn’t do what you were meant to do. The universe seemed intent on stopping you. 

Maybe you’d done something wrong, offended the cosmos so severely you were no longer permitted to do what you were meant for. 

As the horse slowed, the knight's grip on you loosened. 

He set you gently on the ground in the midst of this unfamiliar forest and you glared up at him. 

“Can I go now?” you hissed. “Or am I still being kidnapped?”

“There were going to kill you,” he said as he dismounted his horse.

“You don’t know what was going on,” you insisted. “Maybe I deserved it.”

He rummaged around in his saddlebag. “Maybe.”

You reeled back a little, not expecting him to agree with you. “Oh. Can I go back then?”

“No. Here, eat this.” He held out some dried meat in your direction.

You refused it. It would be a waste anyways. 

“Why can’t I go?” you asked. If he didn’t even know if you were in the right, what reason could he possibly have for taking you? 

“I’ve heard about your village, you know. I was worried I was too late. They’ve messed with your mind. It’s not your fault but you’re not making good choices right now.”

“My choices are fine,” you shouted. “Who are you to decide that? You don’t even know what I did.”

“What did you do?”

“I shirked my duty. I should have been there.”

“For what?”

“To be their sacrifice.”

“You didn’t deserve that.”

You did, but he couldn’t know that. It was beyond him. 

It was hard to remember where you were. It didn’t make sense. Why weren’t you home? Or were you? You knew that you should be. Why wouldn’t you be? 

You saw your dress, dirty and crumpled and ripped. You’d ruined it. How would you go through with the ritual now? 

Something in you always knew you’d ruin it somehow. And now things were all wrong. Who else’s fault could it be?

The knight pushed some food at you and once again you were in a forest far from home. 

You threw it back at him. “I said I don’t want it. Aren’t you going to eat?”

That damn helmet stared back at you for a moment before he said, “Maybe later.”

“Do you have a name?” you asked, desperate to get anything from him. 

“Phillip.”

You missed your dragon. At least you could see his face and try to figure out what he was thinking. 

He got up without warning, and you jumped a little at the sudden movement. 

He froze for a second as you did, staring down at you before continuing on, trudging through the nearby bushes. 

He returned in a few moments. 

“There’s a pond back there,” he said, gesturing towards the foliage. “It’s not too cold, you should be fine.” He started to move back towards his horse before pausing for a moment and adding, “It might make you feel better.”

You went to inspect this pond as he tended to his horse. 

It was a small pond, the trees around it curling over the top of it, mostly blocking out the sun. You dipped your foot into the water and found that the knight was technically right, it wasn’t cold enough to hurt you. It still wasn’t a pleasant temperature but right now it was the best you were going to get. 

As you tested out the water, you watched from behind the bushes as he mounted his horse and started to ride away. 

It made sense. You wouldn’t want to keep you around either. At this point, you were just ungrateful dead weight. 

You considered taking off your dress and attempting to keep it dry but at this point, it consisted more of rips and dirt than anything. Dousing it in water might do it some good. 

You sunk into the cold water, doing your best to get the dirt out of your hair. As long as you were in here, you might as well attempt to get clean. 

You wondered if you could find your way back to Pytho’s cave. If you could manage to get close you were sure he’d be able to find you. At least you hoped he would. It was the only place you had left to go. 

You had no real desire to prolong the bath in the cold water. You just didn’t know what came next. After this, where could you even go?

Your fingers began to prune and you know you couldn’t do this forever. 

As you exited the pool in your sopping wet, muddy, ripped ceremonial dress, you decided you needed to go. You weren’t sure if you were trying to find your village or Pytho but it didn’t really matter, you had no sense of what direction either was in. You just needed to be headed somewhere. 

You made it half a dozen steps before you collapsed. 

You didn’t even notice he’d returned until he was right in front of you, staring down at you collapsed in the dirt in your soaking-wet dress. 

You watched his helmet as he looks you up and down, lingering a second too long on your chest before snapping his head back up towards your face.

He cleared his throat and you would have bet money that his face was bright red beneath his helm. 

“Apologies, my lady. I thought you might want some fresh clothes.”

He held out some folded clothes with a pair of leather boots balanced atop them. 

No. It wasn’t right. This was supposed to be the last outfit you ever wore. It felt like a betrayal to take it off. 

“No thank you,” you said from your spot on the ground. “I’ll stick with what I have.”

“I know they’re not much but they’ll fit.”

You shook your head again. 

You heard a quiet, muffled sigh escape him. “The sun is setting, you’ll freeze to death if you wear those. You can change back in the morning if you really want to.”

You eyed him suspiciously. “Promise?”

He nodded. “Promise.”

You took the clothes with a sigh. “Fine. Turn around.”

You’d never seen him move so fast. It was like he was afraid you’d start stripping the second you decided to change. 

A giggle escaped you and you watched his shoulders tense up at the noise. It seemed like the two of you were having entirely different kinds of crises. 

You got dressed as quickly as you could, a chill starting to set deep in your bones. He’d found you a faded red tunic that hung midway down your thighs and some pants that miraculously fit pretty well. 

The boots had thick woolen socks inside and putting them on felt like heaven. You swore you’d never wear pretty shoes again as long as these were an option. 

You didn’t bother telling Phillip he could turn around. He’d figure it out in his own time. Or he wouldn’t. It wasn’t really your problem. 

As you got ready to sleep, you watched him, keeping track of time as best you could. It took him about twenty minutes before he finally peeked over his shoulder, finding you sitting with your back against a tree. 

You gave him a halfhearted smile and he cleared his throat. “You should rest now,” he said. “We have to leave at dawn.”

“And when are you going to stop dragging me around with you?”

“Whenever you’d like. I can drop you off at a town tomorrow. I just have something I need to attend to first”

You knew by now not to get hopeful. “Can you drop me off at my town?” You kept asking but you didn’t know what the point of it was. There was nothing for you there anymore. The most you could do was repent. Pay for what you’d done. But for what?

“I can drop you off at any other town.”

You slid down the tree, basically lying on the ground. “Alright. 

He spent the rest of the night in full armour and you wondered if maybe part of him thought you might attack him. Either that or these woods were more dangerous than you knew. 

He awoke you the second the sun began to peek over the horizon and you groaned, trying to kick him away from you. 

He would not be deterred, coaxing you up and onto the back of his horse. You got on behind him and wrapped your arms around him for stability with minimal protest. You didn’t have the energy to fight him on it. 

It took you too long to realize you'd left your dress behind, discarded in the mud.

The ride was much more comfortable when you weren’t being held captive. 

Forests and plains and mountains passed, all foreign and strange. You’d never left your town before, never seen anything like this. Even in your bad mood, it was hard not to admire it. 

Your heart stopped as you noticed one of the mountains that the two of you were fast approaching seemed familiar. 

It had taken you too long to recognize it but in your defense, you were used to seeing it from a cave right at the peak.

You shut your eyes and prayed to anyone that might be listening that you’d ride right by it. 

If the gods were listening, they had a special hatred for you. You weren’t sure you could blame them. 

 Phillip lead the horse along the precarious path you’d deemed too dangerous only days ago.

You needed to figure out a plan but you had nothing. 

With only a few minutes left before you reached the peak, Phillip dismounted, holding out his hand to help you down. You half considered trying to take his horse to go warn Pytho but you had no real idea how to ride one on your own and you couldn’t shake the feeling you’d ride the pair of you right off the cliff edge. The poor creature didn’t deserve that. 

You dismounted and Phillip nodded, getting right back on the horse. “You stay here, I won’t be long.”

“No,” you yelled, a little louder than was necessary. Phillip flinched, probably worried it had echoed up the mountain and warned the dragon at the top of his presence. You hoped it had. “I want to come.”

“These are dangerous lands, m’lady. I will not let you get hurt.”

You scowled at him. “You know, people won’t stop saying that to me.”

The helm stared down at you, unwavering, before he gave his horse a swift kick in the side and it rode up the narrow path. 

You took off in a dead sprint after him. 

You neared the top of the path, panting, just in time to see Phillip creeping into the cave, sword drawn and at the ready. 

You had no idea what to do. You couldn’t just stand here and do nothing but you felt frozen in place. 

The problem was, you’d rather neither of them were hurt. It felt like an impossible situation. 

Pytho needed to be warned but as gentle as he’d been with you, he could decimate Phillip in a second. That much you were certain of, no matter how competent of a knight Phillip might be. 

You finally willed yourself to move, darting into the cave to see Pytho standing over Phillip, who had his sword positioned right at the dragon’s neck. 

Before you could even think, you shouted, “Don’t hurt him!”

You had no real idea which of them you were talking to but both stopped in their tracks, heads spinning towards you. 

For one moment you were terrified one would take advantage of the distraction to harm the other and then their blood would be on your hands. Before the worry had time to settle, Pytho swung his tail around, hitting Phillip over the head with it. 

He instantly collapsed to the ground, going limp. 

You rummaged around in the saddlebag as Pytho stared at you. When you finally found rope you raised it triumphantly. 

Pytho’s gaze followed it up. “What is that?” he asked as you rushed towards the knight. 

“It’s rope,” you informed him as you tried and failed to drag him across the floor. As soon as Pytho realized what you were doing, he swept him effortlessly into the corner for you. 

You bound his hands behind his back, tethering him to some heavy golden chair that would at least slow any escape he tried to make. 

“You’re back,” Pytho said behind you, his voice airy and incredulous and so very grateful. 

You turned from binding the knight with a big smile. “I am. I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to make it back but this guy led me right here,” he said, nudging at him with your foot. 

He didn’t seem to hear any of it. “I can’t believe you’re back.” His eyes were wide, refusing to leave you. 

You nodded, grabbing Phillip’s abandoned sword and throwing it right off the mountain, listening to the clanging noises as it bounced all the way down. You glanced nervously at Phillip as you returned, leading his horse over by the sheep. “I am. This is so rude but can you please go for a couple minutes? If you’re still here when he wakes I’m afraid he might perish from fright.”

He nodded. “If that’s what you want. I will be back.” 

He bumped his head lightly into you before heading out, flying off somewhere. 

And not a moment too soon. 

The knight stirred from his slumber. The only way you could tell was by how his helm slowly moved up, rising to meet your gaze. 

The second he did he tried to move before realizing he was bound. “Why?” he asked you. “I don’t understand, you… Was this all a trap?” His voice cracked and he sounded genuinely hurt by the betrayal. 

You felt a pang of sympathy in your chest as he struggled against his bindings. Quiet fearful noises escaped him as he glanced between you and Pytho’s horde.

You shushed him, your hands up in a quiet surrender. “We’re not going to hurt you. You’ll be just fine.”

“We? You’re in cahoots with this monster?”

You bristled at the harsh langue but did your best to be forgiving to the frightened man. 

“He’s not a monster. He helped me. Why are you even here? He hasn’t hurt anyone.”

“That’s not what I heard. From what I’ve heard he’s been snatching up women.”

You groaned, rubbing at your temples. As you did, the knight leaned forward as much as he could and even through the stoic armour, you could tell exactly when he realized. 

“No. But… but you….”

“I just wanted to help my people. I don’t know why every creature within a thousand miles is trying to stop me.”

“If he took you, how did you escape?”

“I didn’t. I asked him to let me go, to be able to make my own choices, and he did. Because he respects me and didn’t kidnap me on the back of a horse!” You tactfully decided to omit the original kidnapping. At least for now. You had a feeling it wouldn’t help your case. 

“Please, it’s a dragon, it…”

“He! He’s a dragon! And at least he’s allowed me to make decisions.”

He reeled back. “I… you were going to get yourself killed. I couldn’t just let you get yourself killed. It isn’t right.”

“And it’s not your choice to make.”

He hung his head, helmet clanging against his chest plate. 

Pytho chose then to return, his tail swishing happily as he walked. He rubbed up against your side, letting out a happy rumble as he did. 

“So they let you go?” Pytho asked, ignoring the man on the floor. 

“Not exactly. They were going to kill me. They wanted to make an example of me.” You couldn’t help but smile. “I can’t imagine that the example they wanted to set was getting rescued by a knight but I suppose that’s the hand they were dealt. 

Pytho turned his gaze to Phillip. “You saved her?”

He nodded hesitantly. 

Another pleased noise escaped Pytho. “He’s a good one. I’m glad you didn’t let me kill him.”

“About that,” you said and you watched Phillip freeze up, all of his limbs locking. You glanced at him, adding, “I said we weren’t going to hurt you, calm down. I was just going to say, Pytho, you should let him go.”

The dragon tilted his head. “Why? I like him, he’s shiny.”

You suppressed a laugh. “He’s not shiny, his armour is. It’s like clothing.”

“Oh. Why do you creatures insist on that stuff? Seems awfully restrictive.”

Phillip cut into your conversation, saying, “I can’t leave.”

You looked over at him, a wave of irritation rushing through you. “Why not?”

“I can’t leave you here with this beast.”

You had half a mind to throw something at him. “Get this through your head, I don’t need you to save me.”

“It wouldn’t be right,” he continued, undeterred. 

“Fine. But I’m not untying you and risking you hurting him.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

Pytho’s head swiveled between the two of you as you bickered. As the argument finally finished, he asked in a hushed tone, although still lough enough that Phillip could hear, “Does that mean we get to keep him.”

You snorted. “Guess so. It’s your lucky day.”

“It really is,” he said, voice as genuine as it could be. 

The sunlight was fast fading and you knew how cold it could get in here. You had no intention of sleeping alone but you glanced at your mostly willing captive. 

“Pytho?” you called out. 

He turned to you immediately. “Yes? Do you need something?”

“Could you go get some wood?”

“Of course I can,” he said, already speeding off. 

When he returned, he had a whole tree in his mouth and another in his talons, dirt still clinging to their roots. 

You bent over laughing as he dropped them both in front of you, tail swishing behind him. They’d barely fit through the mouth of the cave, filling up a significant amount of the room and knocking over at least one pile of gold in the meantime. 

You got to work snapping off some of the more reasonably sized branches, having Pytho move the trees back outside as you finished. 

You set them up a few feet away from Phillip, far enough away that he’d be safe but could still feel the warmth. 

“You can breathe fire right?” you called back to Pytho. It would be unfortunate if he couldn’t because you did not have the proper tools to start one here. 

He nodded, visibly eager. “Do you need one?”

“Just on the sticks here. Make sure not to burn anyone,” you said, nearing Phillip to ensure that he didn’t forget there was a person inside of the shiny armour and cook him. 

With a quick and surprisingly controlled burst of flame, the pile of sticks turned into a quaint little fire. 

You gave Phillip a pat on the shoulder as you headed over to Pytho. “Goodnight. Have fun sleeping in full armour.”

He didn’t respond. 

You left the fire behind to go curl up with Pytho. No fire could compare to his warm scales, of that you were certain. 

A happy rumble escaped him and ran through you as you leaned against him. 

He spoke in hushed tones, face right in front of yours as his tail curled around you. “I can’t believe you came back.”

“I shouldn’t have,” you said, giving him a quick kiss on his snout. “But I think I realized I didn’t really want to be anywhere else.”

His head leaned into your touch immediately, a wistful look in his eyes. 

“I wish I could do that.”

“What, kiss me?” you asked with a laugh. “Well, how do dragons kiss?”

Without another word he licked a long stripe up the side of your face, leaving a sticky residue behind. 

You giggled as you felt his spit on your cheek. “Well, my way is definitely less messy.”

He let out a noise that sounded almost like a purr, resting his head in your lap. “I like it your way.”

You hummed quietly and you wished he could feel it reverberating through his body the way you did for him. You curled happily into warm scales, surrounded by an overwhelming sense of safety, and fell asleep in your new home. 

The next morning, you realized you had no idea how to tell if Phillip was awake or not. He could have escaped and left only his empty armour behind and it would be impossible to tell. 

What you did know was that he hadn’t eaten. 

Pytho still had some slightly stale bread from your last stay here and you’d brought in all of Phillip’s supplies. You grabbed some dried meat and the freshest of the bread that you could find, heading over to him. 

“Good morning,” you said, hoping he could hear you.

He shifted, just barely, to turn to you. It seemed like the most positive reaction you could hope for. 

“Okay, you need to eat. Here, just let me.” You went to lift his helm but paused as he flinched away from your hand. 

“Please don’t.” His voice was low and shaky. 

You backed off, keeping your hands up and away from him. “Okay,” you said, “But you do need to eat.” 

There wasn’t any other way to do it. You reached behind him, pressed close to him as you untied his hands. As you struggled with the knots, you felt his breath hitch in his chest. 

After a few moments, you pulled away from the newly freed knight, rope in hand. “Tada.”

He froze once more, something you were getting used to, and just stared down at the rope for a minute, flexing his hands by his sides. 

With no warning, he grabbed the food you’d gathered for him and stood on shaky legs, giving you a small nod before he headed out toward the mouth of the cave. It was near where the animals were being kept, tied up to some golden pillar near the front. If he wanted to, he could leave here and now.

You waited patiently for him, avoiding looking in his direction, even if you were sure he’d gone far enough that you wouldn’t be able to see him. 

He quickly returned, fast enough that he must have scarfed down his food.

He presented his hands to you and it took a second to realize he was waiting to be tied up again.

You scoffed, looking at him dubiously. “Is that really necessary?” It seemed silly to tie him up again after that.

His hands stayed out and you rolled your eyes as you grabbed the rope. 

You tied them in front of him this time, taking much less care with the knots as you did. 

“Where are you a knight of?” you asked as you pulled the knot taut. “I see no insignias anywhere on you. That doesn’t seem normal.”

“My kingdom is long gone, m’lady.”

“Still so respectful, even after everything I’ve put you through. Well, sir knight, how can you be a knight with no kingdom to serve?”

His head cocked to the side as if baffled by the question. “I know nothing else.”

You paused a moment before asking. “How long have you been doing this?”

He remained ever impossible to read, although that never stopped you from trying. After a long, stoic pause, he simply shrugged and said, “I’ve lost track of the years.”

“And so what? No kingdom to speak of, you just keep fighting?”

“I do what I’ve always done.” Like it was as simple as that. 

“Don’t you get tired?”

“I never have the time.”

“Well, sir knight, I think you were just about due for some rest anyways.”

He didn’t respond, the helmet following you as you left him.

He was so stoic. You weren’t sure how it was easier to get a read on a dragon than a man but somehow he’d managed it. 

Anything other than silent staring began to feel out of place. 

“M’lady,” Phillip called out. You turned, confused. It wasn’t like him to start a conversation. 

“Yeah?”

“Where is my sword?” he asked. 

You’d forgotten he was unconscious for that. “Oh. I threw it off the mountain.”

“You what? Why?”

Pytho chimed in immediately. “I can get it.”

You shifted between him and the entrance to the cave as quickly as you could. “No, you will not.”

“Why?” asked Phillip.

“What do you mean why? You tried to kill him.”

“I won’t attack him unprovoked.”

“You already did attack him unprovoked.”

“I didn’t have all the information. For that, I am truly sorry, sir.”

Pytho’s chest puffed up at the title. “You are forgiven. And I am sorry that I almost destroyed you.”

That caused Phillip to reel back a little. “You did not. I can best a dragon easily, I almost slit your throat.”

Pytho huffed and you smelled a bit of smoke on his breath. “You did not.”

“Okay,” you said, cutting in. “You’re both very dangerous. I’d still love it if we could keep the sword where it is.”

Phillip nodded. “I understand your hesitancy.”

He said it tied up on the floor. Despite not having a weapon, despite his promise not to try and hurt Pytho, despite the fact that you'd already untied him so he could eat. 

“This is stupid,” you said, pacing up to him and immediately setting to work on the knots and ignoring his quiet noises in protest. 

It didn’t take long to undo them, you’d put barely any effort into tying them in the first place. 

“We have to free you so you can eat anyway, I don’t understand your obsession with this little performance.”

Phillip froze, still holding his hands together despite the lack of rope. 

“What should I do?” he asked you quietly. 

You threw the rope to the side. “That’s up to you.”

It took him hours before he was even willing to stand from his spot on the floor. 

His movements were all colored by hesitation. You understood. The freedom made staying a choice. And even when he managed to stand, to move from his corner, he stayed.

He stuck to his corner as often as he could, but nonetheless, he stayed. Watching him sleep alone in the cold, you were certain that this was how Pytho had felt every night when you froze your ass off far away from him. 

You both lit the fire for him every night. Pytho has started running off to get wood without you even asking, even if the trees that remained outside left you with enough wood to last years. 

His armour got lighter as time passed, forgoing pieces from time to time. No matter what, the helmet stayed. It felt like a part of him, like you could imagine there possibly being a man under there. 

He was adjusting to the newfound freedom about as well as you’d expected. 

With every small sign of growing comfort, something else went wrong. 

A few days after his freeing, while Pytho was out gathering more food for the two of you to eat, you heard him muttering in the corner. 

You drifted closer and he paid you no mind. You couldn’t make out any words but you could tell it was frantic.

“Phillip,” you said softly, doing your best not to startle him. “Are you alright?”

You had no idea if you’d frightened him, he remained entirely unreadable. All except for his hands. He had foregone his gloves and much of the armour on his arms and you watched as he nervously fidgeted, threatening his fingers together, cracking his knuckles absentmindedly, his hands never staying still for more than a moment. 

“I’m wasting time here,” he said. “I have things to do. I have a duty to this land.” 

You knew it was near impossible to get through to him but you couldn’t help the urge to try. “It’s a waste to rest?”

“It is. I need to go, need to continue on.”

You sat beside him, as close as you could get without touching. “You should take me back home on your way. I’ve got a duty too, you know.” 

His head fell back. Metal against stone sent a clanging noise echoing across the walls. “That’s different. You were brainwashed.”

“I wasn’t. The monsters are real you know. I’ve seen them. We all do, every year. I really would have been saving them. Whatever girl they chose instead of me really did save them. Maybe you don’t think it’s right. That’s fine. It’s an important duty nonetheless.”

“It’s not the same. I’m not being marched to my death.”

“People will still need saving in a week, in a year, in a century. There’s no real, final end to it. There has to be ends to it for you. Little ones. There just has to be.”

His head was turned towards you and you squirmed, feeling like you were being studied. 

Finally, he said, “It upsets you.”

“What?”

“That I never stop. That upsets you?”

You nodded. “It does.”

“I can stand tiny ends to it. To ease your mind.”

A sad laugh escaped you. “I’d rather you did it for you.”

“That’s the best I can do right now. You’re the same, aren’t you?”

And you supposed you were. “I can’t go back. I can’t do that to him. Or to you, I guess.”

A small laugh escaped him, a noise you weren’t sure you’d ever heard from him before. “You guess. I’ll take it.” 

Pytho returned, entering the cave a little too quickly and knocking one of his piles of treasure over. He dropped a cart in front of you, this one with boxes of pastries covering it. 

“The humans seemed to love this one,” he said with his disarming, open-mouthed grin. 

“Who are you taking those from?” Phillip asked incredulously, and you were almost certain you could hear a smile in his voice. 

You grabbed something that looked chocolatey and when you felt that it was still warm you almost sobbed. “I don’t care who he’s taking it from,” you said, taking a massive bite of it. “This is the best thing I’ve ever eaten.”

You scarfed down three pastries, offering a small piece to Pytho, just so he could taste it. He spat it back out, questioning how you could ever eat something like that. 

And then you remembered your stoic knight, still sitting beside you, just watching you eat, and a sense of guilt overtook you. 

“I’m sorry,” you said and he perked up as you addressed him. “You know, I could turn around or we could close our eyes. We wouldn’t have to see anything. So we could eat together.”

You didn’t wait for an answer, didn’t wait for him to politely refuse, instead turning around and signaling for Pytho to do the same. You shut your eyes, just for good measure, as you leaned against the dragon. 

The quiet thud of the helmet being set on the floor made your heart swell. 

As you took another bite of a pastry, this one filled with a beautiful lemon cream, he slid his hand into your open one and ate behind you, slower than he’d ever eaten before. 

Even if it was for you, you hoped he enjoyed it. 

And still, no matter how much progress you made, every night he still slept in that goddamn corner. 

You were glad Pytho curled up around you at night because then at least you couldn't see him, sad and alone next to his fire, away from the two of you. 

You knew Pytho could tell it bothered you. He always did his best to distract you, pull all of your attention to him. He’d gotten pretty good at it. 

He was nuzzling into your side, pulling giggles from you as he gave you a big, slobbery kiss on your face. 

“What are dragon kisses for?” you asked. 

“What?”

“I’m just curious. Humans kiss their kids, their partners, their parents, all sorts of people they love. Dragon kisses don’t feel like something you can do as casually as a kiss on the cheek.”

Pytho perked up immediately. “You love me?”

You pressed a kiss into his cheek. “Of course I do.”

He purred at you as he answered your question. “Well, dragon kisses are just for mates. We aren’t an overly affectionate species.”

“Could’ve fooled me. You know, maybe you can’t kiss like a human but I could kiss like a dragon.”

He tilted his head and you decided to take the gesture as a challenge. 

You opened your mouth and licked a broad stripe up the side of his face. His scales tasted ashy and were incredibly smooth against your tongue. 

A wave of heat passed through him as you did, a deep guttural sound escaping him. 

You pulled back, trying to get a better look at him. 

“What was that?” you asked quietly. 

He ducked his head down in a poor attempt to hide from you. “Nothing. It was nothing.”

Something clicked in your head. “Hold on. You said dragons only kiss their mates.”

He nodded hesitantly. 

“You kiss me all the time though.”

He whined again, his tail moving away from you and curling in front of him. “I’m sorry. I know it’s strange, I know you’re human, I can't help it. You're so soft and nice and I love you so much…”

As his words got more frantic you kissed his snout again, shushing him. “You should’ve told me. If I’d known my big, strong dragon wanted me maybe I could’ve done something about it sooner.”

You practically watched his eyes glaze over, head tucking into your chest as he purred more. 

You gave him all the kisses you could, peppering them along his head wherever you could reach. After about a dozen, you decided to try another dragon one, licking along his jaw. 

You were flipped and pinned under him in a second, looking up at a ravenous face. His wings were folded over the two of you, blocking you from the outside world. In here, it was just the two of you. 

You couldn’t be happier. 

“Please, let me see you,” he hissed and you struggled to get your clothes off as quickly as you could. You kicked your pants off and they got caught on your ankles, spurring on a minor giggling fit, feeling absolutely giddy. 

And he just watched, perfectly content to stare down at you as you waged a minor battle against your clothes, desperate to get your bare skin against his. 

As you lay below him, finally fully naked, you didn’t feel shy or self-conscious. It felt right, the two of you, like this. 

“I will never understand clothes,” he informed you. “Why would you ever cover this up?”

His head shifted around, looking at every part of you he’d never gotten to see before. 

As his head moved downwards, you could tell exactly when he noticed how wet you were. He stopped moving entirely, nostrils flaring and eyes locked on you. 

He nosed at you and you opened your legs for him, spreading them as wide as they could go. 

His tongue snaked out instantly, licking a hot stripe through your folds. Whatever he found there seemed to interest him because the next thing you knew his thick tongue was snaking deep inside of you, your walls stretching around him. 

You let out a strangled cry, fighting to not snap your legs closed at how overwhelming the sensation was. 

His content vibrations ran through you, causing a spark of pleasure to run up your spine. 

His tongue found a spot deep inside of you that’d didn’t quite feel like the rest, rubbing against it experimentally and you slapped your hand over your mouth, trying not to scream. 

It was too much. You’d never felt anything like this before. 

His jaw was cracked open over your stomach, his impossibly long tongue reaching as far into you as it could go. 

His tongue slowly withdrew from you and you didn’t know whether to beg for him to keep going or take your reprieve from the overwhelming sensation while you could. 

You noticed his hips shifting and glanced down. Your heart skipped a beat. 

He was massive, probably a foot long. 

“That’s not going to fit,” you whispered.

The dragon shook his head. “No, I would never try. You’re too small, it would break you. I wouldn’t hurt you.”

“What about you?” you asked, feeling bad you couldn’t reciprocate. 

“I have everything I need,” he said, nuzzling into your chest once more. “But if you want someone your size, we could always ask for help.”

Your face heated as you realized what he was implying. To be honest, you’d entirely forgotten Phillip was there, too caught up in what you were doing. Oh god, he’d probably heard everything. 

Pytho lifted his wings as you looked at Phillip, who had turned to face the wall. 

“I am so sorry,” you called out, embarrassment washing over you. 

He turned to you slowly and you prepared to get yelled at. 

Instead, his voice came out breathy and strained. “Do you want me to help?”

Your heart skipped a beat as you stared back at him. “I do. 

He moved towards the pair of you. “I live to serve”

You wanted to kiss him. You wanted so badly to kiss him and you just couldn’t.

So instead you made do, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards you. He fell next to you, both of you leaning against Pytho. 

He froze a little as your hands neared his helmet and you whispered, “Trust me.”

He untensed, although you could sense his anxiety. 

You grasped the side of his helmet slowly, tilting it gently to the side to reveal a sliver of his neck. You moved towards it, taking all the self-control you had to go slowly. 

He shivered as you neared him, your breath ghosting over his skin. 

You started gently, pressing soft kisses into his skin. 

Before long you wanted more, nipping at his neck and sucking marks into it as he let out little whines. You could feel his throat move as he swallowed, could feel his muscles tense as you moved.

Eventually, he pulled you away from him and you looked up at him, wide-eyed.

“Um…” he said, his voice shaky and high. “If you do want me to… to help. You need to stop doing that. 

You smiled, resting your forehead on his helm. “If you insist.”

The way you’d pulled at his clothes, shifting his shirt out of the way, meant you could see as he gulped. 

His hand hovered inches over your hip, as if afraid to touch you. You covered it with your own, pressing it onto bare skin. 

You didn’t mind his staring so much now. You could feel the waves of awe coming off of him as his hands gently slid up and down your sides. 

You hooked your fingers into the front of his pants and pulled him closer to you. 

“Please,” you asked. 

He didn’t bother taking his pants off, instead pulling them down just enough to get his dick out, already painfully hard. 

Pytho’s tongue had more than prepared you and Phillip seemed like if someone breathed on him wrong he might come so you wasted no time, pulling him over to you. 

Pytho sat there, watching as Phillip pushed inside of you. He was painfully slow, groaning with every inch. 

Your walls fluttered as his hand pressed tentatively down on your clit and he had to stop entirely, breathing slowly. 

“Do you know how hard it was,” he gasped out as he buried himself fully inside of you, unmoving. “Hearing all that and not touching myself. It felt like torture. 

You could feel Pytho shifting behind you, molding himself against your back as you saw his hips twitch, grinding against nothing. 

You opened your mouth to speak when your words were cut off with a sharp thrust. 

Phillip gripped your hips so hard you were worried it might bruise in the morning. You couldn’t bring yourself to care. 

He slowly found his rhythm, desperately trying to pull you impossibly closer as he thrusted inside of you.

You felt something hard against your back, moving as Phillip slammed inside of you again. And then, as if sharing one mind, you felt a sticky substance coat your back just as Phillip gave you one final, hard thrust, groaning as he came inside of you. 

As soon as Phillip pulled out, Pytho rushed to snake his tongue back inside of you. It was so dexterous, pressing up perfectly inside of you as he tasted both you and Phillip. 

Phillips fingers intertwined with yours as your back arched and you felt waves of pleasure run through you. Pytho seemed intent on working you through it, his tongue moving steadily until you could take it anymore. 

You pushed at his head and he lifted it, mouth slick and eyes looking just as dazed as you felt. 

You were all gross and sticky and you’d never been happier in your life. 

Phillip snorted. “I was supposed to kill you.”

“Plans change,” you said. 

“You never could have killed me,” Pytho declared and you couldn’t help but smile as their argument began again. 

You woke up in a tangle of limbs. Your head was tucked into Phillip's chest, his arms wrapped around you with just the tip of Pytho’s tail betwixt you. You were both entirely surrounded by him, curled up protectively around you. 

Pytho had to take both of you down to the nearest lake to get clean the next morning. He sat patiently at the edge of the pond as both of you washed off the mess from the night before. 

Phillip helped you clean, scrubbing your back and running his fingers gently through your hair as you both stood in the waist-deep water. 

You’d had the good sense to remove your clothes but Phillip had to clean his along with himself, standing in the water in his pants, shirt, and that helmet. 

It seemed a little silly but you wouldn’t bother him over it. It would come in due time. Or maybe it wouldn’t and honestly, you didn’t think you would mind. 

Pytho was content watching the two of you, occasionally shifting his tail to splash water at you, a favor you returned to him readily. 

As the cleaning finished and the three of you sat on the shore, drying off, Phillip braided your hair as you both leaned against your warm dragon. 

You were curious where he’d learned it but scared to ask, to remind him of anything other than this perfect moment. 

He did not seem to understand how precious and fragile this moment was, breaking the silence by saying, “I can’t stay here,” and shattering everything. 

You looked at him with panicked eyes and Pytho hid his head under his wing. 

“What?”

His next words came slower, more gently. “I think we’ve made a little home here. I do. But I can’t just stay.”

You nodded. You understood. “Neither can I. You’re going off adventuring again, right?”

He nodded and you immediately added, before you could lose your nerve. “I want to come.”

“It’s going to be dangerous,” he said, his voice not commanding but instead cautious and worried. 

“Please. I need to do something, to help someone. I feel like I’ve got a debt on my back. I can’t let it hang over me like this forever.”

He went to protest but you stopped him. “I don’t care what you think, I can’t live with it. Please.”

He nodded. “First, we’re going to need to find my sword.”

You gave him an apologetic smile. “I’m sure it won’t be too hard.”

“And we can’t come back every night,” he continued. “You’re going to have to spend days on the road. You sure that’s what you want?”

You rolled your eyes. “I think I can manage for a few days.”

Pytho lifted his head from where he was hiding it. “Come back? You said you can’t stay?”

It took a second to understand what he could possibly be asking. The idea of leaving him forever was so inconceivable to you that you hadn’t realized what this must have looked like. 

You rushed over to him, kissing his forehead. “No, I’m not leaving you. Neither of us are. We just…I just can’t stay in a cave for the rest of my life.”

“People will still need helping,” Phillip chimed in, standing behind you. “I won’t ever stop doing this. It’s what I was made to do. But it's been too long. I think it was about time I found a home to come back to.”

You smiled at him as you leaned into your dragon’s side. “I think it was.”

[mintymarabell]

Infertile elder yautja

This is very much an impossible scenario but I’m making it happen anyways. Oh you guys I’ve been gone for so long and when I come back I ramble. I’m so sorry!

Mentions of : infertility, pregnancy, childbirth, stillborns, accused cheating, distant partner.

Your mate was infertile, his seed never taking to any other female.

If it did take the baby was always a still born, cold to the touch and grey in color.

He still wanted a mate though, so instead he just opted for a human, one that wouldn’t beg for a baby every year when he for obvious reasons couldn’t give one.

That’s when he met you, little oh you on planet earth wondering around. He obviously took a liking to you, giving you so many treasures and golds that when we does reveal himself to you it isn’t as scream worthy.

Fast forward, you both lived happy lives on yaujta prime; you skipped around enjoying your forever vacation while he just did his usual businesses of supervising hunts, going to meetings, being an elder in general, and coming home to you.

Just because you were human didn’t mean he didn’t love you, he did love you. To him you were like a breath of fresh air, not having to constantly impress you or abide to most yautja traditions.

But most importantly he loved the way your skin felt, late at night when you were fast asleep he’d often find himself with his hand rubbing up and down your back, your skin oh so soft compared to his own rough skin.

Then his happy facade broke because there was one day he noticed something, the off look in your eye, the absent rubbing of your belly. He knew what you wanted, he almost wanted to bite his tongue in half and swallow it because he knew he wouldn’t be able to give you what you wanted.

So he’d often find himself trying to pull away, creating distance with the excuse of work but it didn’t hold up long as one night as he snuck into the bedroom you sat in bed, tears ran down your cheeks as you looked at him.

Your mate has seen you cry only once but that was before he had fully met you but that was then and this was now, now you were right there in front of him looking at him as if he was caught red handed.

He tried to remain calm as he walked towards your bed side, kneeling down on his knees. Never has he kneeled before, never has he lowered his head either but for you he had and for you he’d do anything.

“My canary, what is the matter?” He spoke with a low voice as if he would startle you into running away, though you didn’t. You had sat there staring at him then you had popped the question; “Are you cheating on me?” Your voice was hoarse, not something he liked to hear even if it was his first time.

“What?” He spoke with wide eyes, “My bird what gives you that assumption? I could never cheat on you, not someone as perfect.” He spoke, though the last part of his sentence was whispered. You had told him you thought he was cheating due to him pulling away and coming in late.

As you spoke he kind of looked off. His hands were fiddling with your small fingers, a habit he has picked up lately. “My love, I know what you want. It is a baby, yes?” He asked as he finally looked at you, your head giving a small nod.

He had sighed, “I’m not sure I can give you one.” “Could we still try?” You spoke quietly, your eyebrows scrunched together. “If that is what you want my dear.” He spoke softly, his hands finally leaving your own as he stood up.

He had wanted to kick himself but how could he say no to your face? So you both will do what people do, waiting a few days; your excitedly walking around talking his ear off about the baby room all while he has this blank look on his face.

When you do end up being pregnant he is astounded but not too much because of it happening before and being a still born in the end. But don’t worry, he will be there through the pregnancy, rubbing your back, cuddling close to you.

He will be there when you have morning sickness or running off in the middle of the night to get you some weird craving.

He was in the kitchen, you were seven months along and had politely demanded chicken piccata. He had no clue how to make the earth dish but never the less was trying to best as he had slaughtered a chicken for it and stole a recipe book from someone.

As he was slicing up the chicken breast he heard you hiss, he immediately dropped the knife as he peaked his head in the living room and rushing to wash the salmonella off his hands. “Are you alright?” He had called which was given no response.

He walked into the room, an apron on that said kiss the chef. You were sitting on the couch, urging him to come here as you practically shoved him towards your stomach.

“Feel.” You spoke as you put his hands on your tummy, he gave you a raised nonexistent eyebrow as he sat there then he felt it, a very strong kick that had you making a slight face. “Isn’t that sweet?” You spoke quietly as if you were recovering.

“Sounds like you’ve been through it love.” He spoke as he rubbed at your stomach before getting up. “Maybe the baby is strong.” You spoke as you had watched him. He had shrugged and walked back to the kitchen.

When you had went into labor it was 4:52am, your mate was asleep on his side facing you with a hand on your stomach. You had rose up from the bed with a strong pain in your stomach, you nudged your mate awake to which he immediately did so. “What’s wrong?” He asked immediately as he also sat up.

You didn’t really have to explain to him what was wrong as you had went to stand your water broke, the water hitting the ground.

Your mate had carried you all the way to the clinic, running the whole way and also carrying the overnight bag. The doctors had taken you into a room that had blue lights to keep you calm. The doctors being complete nerds and had researched everything they could as they practically piled near you giggling internally at the studying opportunity.

As you had laid in the bed, the bed already sat up at an angle you breathed deeply as your mate held your hand, rubbing your knuckles.

An older female yautja had sat between your spread legs, as she popped her head up she told your mate in yautja tongue you needed to push.

After twelve agonizing hours and your mate having a sore hand there were small cries. He almost thought he was hearing things, maybe your screaming had damaged his ear canals?

But no, the doctor lifted up a sweet baby who was moving and very visibly upset. His breath was lost in his throat as he watched the child be handed off to you with congratulations on the new baby girl. The doctors all scribbling notes down and walking out.

The baby was smaller but looked yautja, he almost wanted to believe it wasn’t his but he knew you were loyal. He almost didn’t know what to do with himself as he stood there watching you rest with your eyes closed, his newborn daughter fast asleep on your chest.

He was quiet all the way until you had looked up at him, asking in a tired voice, “do you want to hold her?”

He nodded slowly. He had slowly reached his arms out, letting you place her into them. She was so small, almost comically in his arms.

Though from there on out he made a silent vow to himself as he leaned down and slightly touched heads with her. He vowed to never let anything happen to his beautiful baby girl, even if it would kill him.

[toxycodone]

Laios x Beastkin!Reader

an. Senshi, Chilchuck, and Marcille x Reader are mentioned quiiiite a bit in here. Izutsumi x reader is more sparse. split between furry/scaly/feathery beastkin after the more general ones in the beginning. SORRY if the formatting is weird I got "text limited" a lot on this lmfao

this is a lot so. <3 show sum luv

general sfw

when you two first meet...bro is ELATED. He knows Izutsumi, which is fine, but you're an entirely different one. Who also doesn't seem to be super against him getting to know them

He asks SO many questions. What are you mixed with? Are you naturally born or artificial? What's it like having wings? A tail?

He's testing out all your features. He loves them so much.

When there's downtime, he likes to conduct "research". This goes for analyzing your features and making notes, comparing them to his books and other notes, and even more intricate tests like reaction time and stuff.

He'll hold a candle/torch by your face and test your pupil dilation. It's oddly intimate because he's just staring you down and its like. okay. are we gonna kiss orrrr

Loves. Loves. Loves just WATCHING you. Seeing the way you pounce on little bugs for fun or get spooked by certain noises. He just smiles and is all amused.

You'll catch him doodling you pretty often. He makes notes like "y/n caught a treasure bug today. They seem pretty skilled at hunting. Failed to kill it for some reason...just played with it until it scurried off." The doodles are like...surprisingly pretty decent. The monster portions of you are the best looking and most detailed. But it's so cool to see just how much he pays attention to you and your idiosyncrasies.

Your interactions with Izutsumi also interest him. Do you guys get along? Are you prey to her? Or is she to you? If you and Izu are talking or around each other he's watching like a hawk out of pure curiosity.

However...there's a particular page in his journal where he's providing feedback on how he would make you "better" aka cooler. It's basically just his own ramblings. No Laios, an extra set of eyes and the ability to breath fire and ice and everything in between is not. better. you're just salivating over the idea of your monster OC

If you bring this up to him he actually agrees. After a lot of note taking and observation he's really fascinated just on how well suited your entire existence is to...surviving. He has a lot of theories he'd love to share about you.

But he has e x t e n s i v e notes on your body. It's something that fr makes you blush because, why is he theorizing about the base of your tail and how it connects to your spine? and the number of nipples you have? wait...how is his guess right...?

But Laios is so useful. You might as well call him your owner. You don't have to lift a finger when it comes to taking care of yourself. (He misses his dogs so you fill in.)

He takes care of your skin/fur/scales/feathers, cuts your claws, helps you file down your hooves or horns. He's very into taking care of you if you'll let him. (Marcille also hops in on this since its her love language LOL. When she's not busy with Izutsumi she helps when she can.)

If you are like...afraid of water or don't enjoy bathing. You are like the party's pet. They're debating on how to get you clean before Chilchuck is like "if you don't take a bath I am going to kill you and throw you in there myself." Laios then goes all puppy dog eyed bc he thinks Chil is being to hard on you and then he sighs and is like "fine. I'll buy you a treat when we get back to the surface."

Marcille/Laios are really good when it comes to bath time. They aren't weird about it (Laios is checking you out but. In a curious type of way. Marcille is giving him side eye if hes getting too...Laiosy. But he respects your boundaries. Just imagine Laios happily scrubbing you while humming a tune awe.)

And when it comes to sleeping arrangements...you can alternate between anyone in the party. But Laios and Chilchuck are your best bets. Marcille is an excellent sleeping partner if the dreams don't bother you, shes soo happy to have you sleep with her and she's soft and smells nice.

Laios happily lets you sleep with him. He's actually not super cuddly (unless you are he'll reciprocate). But he is very much like, giving you a ton of space. If you fall asleep before him he just relents and sleeps as comfortably as he can around you lol. Literally just like any other pet owner.

Chilchuck....sleeping with him is difficult bc Izutsumi will fight you on it, but she relents if you can fit in without much issue (bonus points if you're warm) so. You guys can both overheat this poor man. Izu may even start cuddling with you more. She finds a lot of comfort in having another beastkin in the party even though she won't say it.

And speaking of Chilchuck...you're likely a bit more cooperative than Izutsumi, so he gets your help when it comes to checking for traps and finding treasure. With your elite hearing and other abilities, he's actually really pleasantly surprised how useful you are. (If you were a half-foot he'd definitely want you in his guild). He gives you pets and treats when the others aren't really paying attention (He doesn't want them to see him doting on you is all LOL).

Okay. So. Your diet. This is an anime about eating so. Let's get down to it.

Whether you're a herbivore, carnivore, or omnivore--Laios is ENSURING your needs are taken care of in the party. It is of upmost importance to him.

He takes notes and asks about how certain foods make you feel. Are you more energized? Less energized? Stomach hurting? Pooping well? (Will ask this with upmost sincerity, he wants to make sure the butter/milk/etc used in their cooking isn't interfering with your tummy. Whether you want to answer this is up to you lol).

Laios and Senshi happily adjust things to your needs. Laios will spend time foraging with you, Senshi will find certain monsters with more nutrients that meet your needs. Senshi is also like, really knowledgeable about nutrients, so sometimes in your food he may grind up shells or bones to meet calcium needs and such. When he cooks he'll give you bones or soften them up in water so you can eat the marrow. :-)

Senshi...is the coolest though. He also lets you perch on him (like Izutsumi) and since he's lived in the dungeon for so long, he knows a lot about monsters firsthand. If it applies, he'll give you tips about yourself or some monsters you should prey on. Senshi and you go on little foraging trips too. He'll have you sniff things out in return for extra food during dinner.

Laios likes to see you hunt prey and eat it raw, though. Everyone else would rather not and it makes them sick but he thinks it is SO cool. He honestly wishes he could do that. He takes hunting lessons from you and will give you tips on being stealthier and such.

Your teeth really fascinate him. He likes testing your bite strength on different types of material (Like wood, stone, bones, etc.). He'll stick his fingers in your mouth and admire them if youd let him. He gives you so much praise in general its so cute.

AND. PETTING YOU. He is so tactile if you let him (i mean look how much he tries and fails to pet izutsumi). When you give him the all clear he is like. jumping for joy. he LOVES to pet you and praise you. He absentmindedly pets you when hes sitting down or standing by you. And when you nuzzle into his touch his heart SOARS. You can see on his face he's blushing and has that like. excited wiggly smile <3

I think when he's just sitting around he just messes with your tail. He likes it.

Lay down beside him and he will happily pet you and be like "do you like this? Is this a good spot?" Present. Your belly to him. and he is over the moon. He pets you wildly and is like "Who's a good boy/girl/monster?" He is so unashamed about doing this too. Chilchuck would put a stop to it if you didn't like it so much.

If you give him kisses or tongue bath's he's eating that shit up (i mean. look at those extra comics w him and dogs he lets dogs just kiss all over his face omfg). He isn't a huge fan of getting his hair wet (sensory issue) but when it's your drool...he can't help but be excited. Laios is all like "they're grooming me?? this means they like me, right??? Can I officially say I befriended a monster???"

It's proof that you care for him and view him as apart of your pack...he is just over the moon at this.

I will say...Laios is way too "has no backbone with you" for a while. You're chewing shoes? You can't help it! Stealing snacks? It's instinctual! Playing too rough with Izutsumi? C'mon guys...

But when he notices his party actually getting upset. You will be surprised how he can put his foot down. Not even max puppy eyes work on him. He will leash and muzzle you if needed.

But you can always get away with messing with his stuff. He thinks its fun to chase you around when you got his shirt in his maw. Then he happily wears the torn up gear and Marcille is like "let me sew it..."

For Scaly Beastkin:

He's so helpful when it comes to shedding season. Laios finds nice rocks all the time and helps scrape off any patches that are drying and crusting and hes not even phased and doesn't think its gross at all. He would keep some skin to test its resilience if you let him.

And going with that, when you need to shed and soak he would help you find a place and will happily assist with the shedding. He's so excited to be there honestly. But he feels bad you are uncomfortable so he lets you cuddle up under the water with him while you wait for your shed to soften up <3

Laios runs his fingers over your scales absentmindedly...just loves feeling how smooth they are, especially after he spent so much time helping them maintain that pristine smoothness.

He gets Marcille's help to make a moisturizing ointment to put on you every now and then so you don't get to dried out in the dungeon!! Marcille starts to fret about that too. You're just kinda chillin and she'll reach over and put ointment on your hands/cheeks/tail. Just areas you may be susceptible to drying out.

Also...he lets you use him as a heating rock. Sunshine is really limited in the dungeon, so...when you need a warm up he's there and waiting and extremely excited to warm you up with a hug.

For Furry Beastkin:

Brushes you. He'd do this EVERY evening (and morning) if you let him. He takes notes, too. Do you have an undercoat? Or is it just one? What does this mean about what environment you originated from?

He probably tries to use your shed fur to embellish his own clothes or put in his pillow/blankets. Reduce, Reuse, Recycle I guess?

And to add to that...remember how Marcille made a cute little cat head from Izutsumi's fur? He does that too. He and Marcille make cute little shapes outta your shed and giggle together about it.

If you get fleas...he is the party member you should tell. He'll help you get rid of them and won't rat you out to the other members LOL. He'd probably blame himself if it spread and the rest of the party is like "you expect us to beleive. you got fleas. Laios you would be excited if you got them."

For Feathered Beastkin:

Preening....<3. When you have pin feathers he is so sweet and gentle. gently picks them out. It kinda tickles bc he's just gliding his fingers over your wings. You'll catch him sighing in content and burying his face in the softness. It's so sweet.

He collects your feathers and shows them off to Marcille (who also really likes them.) Your down is SO useful too. The party has the softest blankets and pillows thanks to you. When you're molting everyone is calling dibs on the feathers to stuff in their bedding.

Laios examines your wingspan and is really interested on stuff like weather you can fly or not. If you can, he's in awe. He wants to see it. Maybe even fly with you if he can. Its always been a dream of his to do that.

nsfw

tw (for nsfw). monsterfucking? if that counts. mentions of vent/cloaca/knot

This man. It is so easy to tell overtime just how fucking horny he gets over monster stuff. He is addicted to just how much you differ from him. Your scales, fur, feathers, wings, etc....he thinks they're all extremely sexy.

He just loves the primal aspect of it? Like you act on instinct. Do what makes you happy. Like of course you have human reasoning and such but STILL. You're so non human and otherworldly it makes his stomach knot up and his dick hard as a rock. He wants to know EVERYTHING about you.

If you have a heat/rut cycle...he is. fucking. begging you come to him for help. jfc you don't even have to let him stick his dick in you. He just slowly probes your hole with his fingers and legit GASPS when he feels it clench around him. Not only is he learning so much about you and monster anatomy but hes also having his monster fucking dreams come true.

I mean it is a given with Laios but his fucking face is always in your hole. He loves eating pussy/ass so fucking much. And having your dick, clit, or knot down his throat drives him wild. He eats your slick and cum like he's starving. He's so sloppy with it too--there's spit and slick and cum all over his face and he's just slurping it all up like its his last meal.

He definitely "examines" you. He'll stick his fingers in you and stretch out your hole just to get a better look at what's inside. (imagine his thumbs sliding in and prying you open.) The muscles pulsating and the color and the smell...god he's drooling. You feel all vulnerable and exposed but he's just constantly praising how amazing your body and its functions are.

He busts so quick with a beastkin it....wow. Like. You are seriously all he has ever dreamed of and shit. I can't imagine he'd be able to contain himself. He cums and just still wants more, he fucks you through the overstimulation until he cries

Oh he wants to know whats in your pants so bad its ridiculous. Like. I cannot explain just how much he is vibrating with excitement

If you have a cloaca...he's very gentle with your hole at first. You explain to him what to look for, what feels good. He'll gently explore with his fingers until he finds the right hole and then he's going at it. He's shoving his tongue in there happily too. He knows what a cloaca is. He knows it's a singular vent for waste and sexual functions. Doesn't matter. His tongue is going in there. Laios is beyond excited to taste everything and see what makes you squirm.

If you have a knot...it's a given he wants you to knot him. It takes him a few tries (he can't take your knot at first because he's too tight) but when he finally is able to its like. euphoric for him. He loves feeling your warm cum in his ass and your desperate pants against his throat as your overstimulated self gets adjusted to being stuck to him. Gods.

Plus...I've discussed this on my blog in more detail but with a beastkin reader he's definitely into

You biting/scratching him up. He lovvveess being marked. Use him as a chew toy PLEASE

Predator/Prey rp: He's a trained hunter but he wouldn't mind being hunted...He loves how strong you are and how you can turn the tables on him if you wanted.

Just?? You being feral?? He likes it when you act more like your monster side and just treat him like a toy.

Breeding Kink: Even if you aren't able to get pregnant or breed (either due to sex or incompatible genetics due to being part monster), he's still really into it. You can fill him up vice versa...He loves the feeling of having you last inside him and he loves knowing you're still filled up from him. Plus, it adds to the more animalistic part of sex which is what he likes

[faerievampling]

The Life of Astarion's Dark Consort

Summary: These are my random head canons about Ascended Astarion and his vampiric bride, Tav/Durge. What would it be like to actually spend eternity with him?

Warning: 18+, mention of sex.

After the ascension, Astarion is so overwhelmed with all his new abilities that he is a bit distant. (Think Lazslo Cravensworth in that one episode of WWDITS where he barely speaks for two weeks all because he’s trying to make a decision about how he is going to reorganize the library) This lasts for nearly a decade, but once Astarion adjusts to his new body, he is able to come back to himself.

Once you are Astarion’s spawn (bride), he no longer needs to mask when lovemaking. He knows you will never leave him. Your lovemaking goes through many 'phases', from being loving and tender to beastly and rough. But either way, he is raw with you, and only you.

Every night, without fail, your vampire curls up in your arms, holding you tightly as he drifts off into a dreamless sleep or reverie. He can’t fall asleep without being in your arms, or vice versa. 

You, his most prized treasure, are far too vulnerable during your rest, and he insists on being as close to you as possible, with a dagger close by, of course. Over the years, he never relents. If you two are ever apart, which happens so rarely, maybe once a millenia, he spends the night sleepless and aching for you.

One of the first things he does once the tadpole is gone is hunt down Haarlep, if you made a deal with him. He wouldn’t allow his treasure to be violated and used any longer.

Astarion’s possessive love for you only grows as the years creep on. 

Sometime during your third century of marriage, Astarion stabs the eyes out of (and allegedly kills) dozens of men and women who he deigned to have violated you (and thus, disrespected him) by looking at you lustfully. It takes two decades of you begging him to stop before he finally relents.

Ask me anything, and it will be yours. On his own time, of course, which you have so much of. You become a very patient vampire.

Astarion certainly values your life and his, but not others. You have to remind him, lest he lose his humanity completely. And you, as well, have to make sure you have a tight hold on your own humanity. You are a vampire, after all.

Watching your friends pass one by one is difficult, and Astarion supports you through it all, despite him not particularly caring about them himself. He cares about his consort, and he does everything to make you comfortable while you grieve. This is where your humanity starts to slip, when your friends are gone from your life for many years.

If you are able to reverie, you aren’t able to actually look through your memories because of your undeath. The years stretch on so long, you nearly forget how the story began at all. But you always have Astarion, and he does his best to help you both remember.

Astarion never takes another consort or another independent lover. The two of you enjoy threesomes and orgies occasionally, but Astarion prefers it to be just you and him. Astarion did particularly like to watch you get fucked by other men and women. But this changes sometime during your first century of marriage. Astarion demands to have his consort and only his consort in the bedroom. He ultimately doesn’t trust anyone else to be intimate with him. He doesn't want anyone else to touch him. You don’t protest the decision.

Astarion creates regular vampire spawn, more for utility than anything else.  He always asks your permission.

After a thousand years, you and your Lord are inseparable. You are not to leave his sight. 

He is very powerful, and has become a threat and a target. The two of you rarely speak aloud anymore as your mind connection is so strong that your minds are melded together. Your relationship is beyond spoken word. As Bride and Master, you are unsure where you begin and he ends. 

Eternity is a very long time. Astarion agrees, but he never wants to die, and he certainly will never let you go.

In your old vampiric age, the two of you strike fear into every mortal you come across. You can't help it. You are both so hauntingly beautiful and pale, and your intense mind connection makes most mortals believe you to be...absent. Oh, how the sheep forget themselves.

Yet your need for blood is so small now. They needn't fear you, not really. You now only drink from Astarion, which gives you what you need. He loves it, being your life essence. 

He doesn't let you drink too much, of course. During your fifth century of marriage, Astarion wants you to feed on him and only on him, as his contempt for others grows and his possessive love for you begins to cause him his own bout of madness.

This causes you to go mad, and Astarion is entirely distraught until you are healed. He spends an extravagant amount of money and a long time healing you.

With the last of your friends dead, you forget to view the mortals as anything but the puppets of your Master. The ways of the world as you knew it slip by you. There is a war, Astarion tells you, but you have no fear. You know he will protect you.

You often go into a vampiric hibernation as you sit on your throne during court. Astarion is still able to put on the mask, but you cannot. Astarion wishes you would try harder, but he also understands.

Even after so many years, Astarion’s body craves you. You are certain you are addicted to each other. You wonder if it is a result of your vampiric marriage. 

He pleasures you every night, and you pleasure him; you cannot remember what sex was like before your undeath, but you know that nothing feels as good as when Astarion makes you come. 

Halsin is the last of your old friends that you can remember, as he lives to be nearly a thousand. You do your best to remember his face, but it slowly starts to slip away from you. 

You feel sad about these things, at times. Astarion cradles you, both your body and your mind, and tries to assure you of your gift. Eternity.

Part 2!!

Masterlist

[messylustt]

could u pls pls plssss do a smut where ethan finds all of the readers “toys” (iykyk) in her drawer so he gets some ideas😏

yes pls

late night toys — ethan landry + reader ( scream ) : ethan finds your ‘toys’ hidden in your drawer

contents : sex toys. remote control. kinda dub con. ethan snoops around. wc 1.8k

You had been out, texting Ethan to just wait in your apartment. He had wandered in, gazing around at the newly furnished living room. He always thought you bought too many things that could be considered unnessisary.

With you being out, and the new items he had yet to see, he began to snoop. He wouldn't consider it snooping. You were friends and you would have showed him around anyway.

He started in living room, seeing the generic cushions, couch and tv. Then went to the kitchen. He began to notice a running theme of randomly placed little hedgehogs. Tiny enough not be too noticeable at first glance.

Ethan chuckled as he picked one up that you had placed by the hallway mirror. His gaze then lead him to your room. He had been in there once, when you were studying together.

He made his way under the doorway, gazing around at your half made bed, and large clothes drawer. He noticed another little hedgehog right by your makeup kit. He wondered if you kept them everywhere, even in hidden small places.

Of course you were one to unintentionally make a fun treasure hunt for him. You always found ways to make even the most boring tasks enjoyable.

Ethan checked in your top drawer, only spotting folded and unfolded clothes. Then he bend down to open the bottom draw. He paused, eyes widening at the contents he found inside.

He really should shut the drawer, forget he saw anything, forget he saw toys he didn't think you owned. But he found himself taking one out.

His eyes seemed to expand even more as he stared at the rather large dildo. Jeez it was big. And of course the thought of 'what you could handle' crossed his mind. He gulped, beginning to feel his pants strain.

He looked back inside the drawer, spotting a smaller vibrator with two remote controls. Ethan's mouth had begun to salivate as more erotic thoughts filled his head.

Slowly a devious plan formed. What pushed him to do it was the thought of you squirming by his control. He just had to wait until tonight.

When you had gotten back, suggesting that you study in the living room, your bedroom door was shut as if Ethan had never been in there in the first place.

Once night had befallen, Ethan asked if he could stay, saying that the trains were supposed to be unreliable tonight.

"Sure, the guest bedroom is just down the hall." You say, as you dump the leftover pizza boxes in the bin.

"Thanks." Ethan smiled, as he made his way to the room.

You shut your bedroom door, changing into comfortable loose pajamas. You had at first been reluctant in letting Ethan stay over because you wanted to try out your new toy. But it was selfish letting him go home in the dark when the trains might not even be running.

Your old remote control vibrator had gone dead, no use in just buying new batteries, so you decided to buy a whole new set. You opened your bottom drawer, thinking on how far down the guest bedroom was. You could easily be quiet if you didn't put it on a high volume.

Pushing past the slight shame of someone else being in the apartment you grabbed the remote control and the vibrator. You positioned yourself against your pillows, shutting the lights off and removing your pajama pants.

You were also ashamed at the fact that you were already turned on. And not by the fact of trying out your new toy, but because of a certain someone. Lately your mind had wandered to Ethan, the dorky kid who helped with your assignments. And the thought that he was so close made your thighs clench together.

Biting your lip, you widened your legs, turning on the remote control, as you kept your eyes shut. Your head leant back as you pushed the vibrator inside you, pressing the button to slightly quicken the speed.

Your back arched as your mouth began to open, silent whimpers leaving your lips. You kept it on a low volume, really not wanting to wake your guest. But then you felt the toy inside you quicken, without the touch of your fingers. There's a flash of confusion before pleasure clouds your mind. "Shit." You mutter before biting your lip harder.

Maybe you had shifted your finger on the remote by accident. You slightly shifted, choosing to stay on this setting. But just as before it quickens, finally making you gasp. Your hand was nowhere near the remote control. When you finally looked down in the dark the familiar light on the remote was switched off. It wasn't even on, so why—

You choked a gasp when the vibrator again picked up speed, making your hips jolt. Your brows were furrowed, body wracking with pleasure. How the hell is it working?

The speed then picked up to one almost ungodly, making your entire body buzz, your hips thrusted into nothing. You whimpered, chest heaving.

"Fuck...look at you." A breathless voice spoke. You whipped your head to the right, to see Ethan walking out of the shadows. You blanch, eyes wide. "E—ethan?"

Ethan grins, tilting his head as he nears you. You look down to see a remote control in his hand, one with the light on. You quickly go to shut your legs, embarrassed, but Ethan turns the volume up, making you moan, and your legs shudder.

Ethan was hypnotised by your bodies movements, and as he played with the settings, picking up and speed and slowing down, his cock throbbed. The moonlight shone through your slightly open curtains, streaking across your sweating body. Ethan gulped, reaching to stand over you.

You gazed up at him, wide eyes, heavy with pleasure. "How did you—where—where did you find...that." You manage in between pathetic whimpers.

Ethan crawls onto the bed-you being in the center. "I was looking around at all the new things you got." Ethan says, making sure your legs stayed open as he changed settings. "I was surprised to see something like this." His smirk hadn't fallen.

He then leans down, just hovering over you as he kept the controller in one hand. Your mouth was opening, as his breath hit your lips. Your cheeks were a rosy colour, and they seemed to only brighten as Ethan continued talking. He hadn't really touched you yet, and you were embarrassed at how much you wanted him to.

Your hips had begun to slightly jolt and thrust. And Ethan had to hold down the want to press his strained cock against your core. "I just couldn't help myself." He confessed. "That remote control you were "using" was apart of your old set, the one without batteries."

You moaned as the vibrator continued to hum inside you. Ethan breathlessly chuckled. "I wasn't sure if this was going to work." He adjusted himself over you, liking you being this close as you whimpered and moaned, the sounds caught in repeat in his brain.

"But look at you...a whimpering mess, all because of this." He holds up the remote as he switches the volume higher.

"Oh, god." You moaned as your head sunk further into the pillows as you shut your eyes tight.

"Look at me." Ethan breathed. But you felt beyond embarrassed, keeping them closed.

"I—i shouldn't have done—done this when you were here." You managed as you can feel your impending orgasm approaching.

"No, no. I'm glad you did." Ethan's words hit your lips making you squirm even more. "Now open your eyes."

You finally do, meeting his lustful gaze. "Have you always had toys like this?" Ethan asks, licking his lips.

Your breathing stutters, intense pleasure nearing. "I'm—I'm gonna-"

"Not yet." Ethan lowers the volume making a whine leave your lips.

"Please." You breathe, staring up at him.

Ethan had never been more turned on in his life. He stared down at your pleading eyes, and nearly orgasmed right there. His breath hitches as his gaze begins to darken. "What was that?" He whispered.

"P-" You began before gulping. "Please?" You sounded so innocent as your big eyes kept him captivated.

"Fuck." He hisses, turning the volume up a fraction higher. You moaned, chest heaving up and down as you had begun to grind your hips into the toy.

"Christ, your so turned on." Ethan practically praises. "Why do you look so...pretty like this?"

Ethan's chest had begun to heave just like yours as he watched your form squirm and shake. "Have you always used this kind of toy?" He asks.

Your mind is practically just pleasure at this point as you nod. "And you've always used the remote yourself?"

You again nodded. "You didn't let your past boyfriends use it?"

"I wasn't sure if they would—shit—would've been into it." You breathe out as you catch Ethan's gaze.

Your eyes dart down to his lips. They looked so kissable in the dim lighting. You reached up, placing an almost gentle kiss to his mouth. Ethan was shocked at first, as he felt your smooth lips press to his.

As you leaned your head back down, Ethan quickly followed, harshly breathing into your mouth. "Oh, but I'm into it." He whispered, before capturing your bottom lip. He sucks, letting his tongue drag across the flesh. "Mm. I'm so...into it. Seeing you squirm under me, as all I have to do is run my finger along this remote..." He does so, making you whine into his mouth, as he smiles against your lips. "...I like it a lot."

Ethan kisses you again, hard, as he laps at your tongue, groaning as you kiss him back, your own tongue dancing with his. "Oh fuck. Ethan I'm gonna- I'm so close." You moan out, as you open your mouth against his.

"Yeah?" Ethan asked, as he made the virbator quicken, making your back slightly arch into him.

"Ethan—oh god." Your tone was growing higher pitched as you whimpered out incoherent words.

Then the pleasure hit, your body shuddering as your mouth hung open. Your chest heaved in sweat, as you grasped as Ethan's shirt, your body jittery. "Shit."

Ethan's mouth had opened too as he lustfully watches you orgasm. He gradually slows the virbrator inside you, as your body slumps into your mattress.

"Holy shit," Ethan mutters before kissing you, this time a little gentler, just slowly licking your lips. "If you ever use this alone, I'll keep it going inside you until your begging for me to stop." Ethan says, kissing your cheek.

"But it's my toy." You say, your usual attitude returning now that the pleasure had ceased.

Ethan shakes his head, removing the toy from inside you, making you slightly jolt as it brushes against your sensitive walls. Ethan puts the remote control in his back pocket as he settles himself further onto you, his lips brushing across your neck. His hand had weaved into your hair as he kitten licked your still rapidly beating pulse.

Ethan chuckles. "Don't worry, you can keep the vibrator." Then he hovers over your red lips again, whispering. "I'll keep the controller."

© messylustt.tumblr please don’t steal, copy or translate my work onto other platforms.

[featherandferns]

guilty as sin? (fic - part 1/2)

jj maybank x fem!routledge!reader | largely inspired by the bible

content warning: sexual content; mentions of parental abuse (physical abuse) | any questions for trigger warnings, feel free to inbox anonymously

word count: 14k.

blurb: when you, John B's half sister, return to Kildare after over two years of living in Colorado, your adolescent crush that you harboured for his best friend comes screaming back. Because you and JJ can't be together in real life, what's the harm in a fantasy?

“And this is your room.”

The syrup-coloured wood is the first thing your eyes meet when John B pushes open the bedroom door. There’s the vague lingering smell of teenage boy which he’s tried to air out, the window open ajar, and the clutter of his belongings has been moved to make space for your own. As you drop your duffel bag and step into the room, you take in the walls. There’s posters and prints stuck above his bed, dotted around on slats of wood separating windows: someone surfing; a rockstar smashing his guitar. An old skateboard deck is nailed into the wall alongside a license plate. The sheets are bright blue, the bed freshly made, and a clean towel is folded up at the foot. It’s well-lit with plenty of daylight flowing through the many windows. Homely and inviting.

“Is it, uh, alright?”

You turn to find John B leaning against the doorframe, hands in his short pockets. Smiling, you nod.

“It’s perfect,” you tell him. “I’m honestly chill with crashing on the couch, though.”

It’s pretty obvious this was his room: you feel guilty kicking him out.

He shakes his head and gestures with his thumb over his shoulder. “I moved into my dad’s room anyway. This has been the spare for a while.”

“Well, thanks,” you smile.

He nods, mirroring your content. “I’ll let you settle in and stuff. I moved all my crap out the closet so you can put your stuff in there, and the top bedside drawer is empty.”

“That’s perfect,” you say. You lift your bag with a grunt and dump it on the bed.

“I gotta go to work but call if you need anything. Shouldn’t be back too late.”

Unzipping your bag, you look to him. “Where’d you work?”

“Got this gig helping out at Ward Cameron’s. Don’t know if you remember him?”

“Course I do,” you snort. “The kingpin of Kildare, and your dad’s treasure hunting buddy.”

There’s a tense silence as your words catch up with you. You press your eyes shut, embarrassed.

“Shit, sorry. That didn’t come out how I meant it to.”

“It’s cool,” John B says, graciously gliding past it. “Anyway, he pays pretty good so can’t complain. Mostly just handy-man odd jobs.”

“Very noble work,” you joke.

With a quiet laugh, John B nods and backs out the door. He lingers another moment, contemplating saying something else. “Look, uh, I know it isn’t ideal circumstances, you coming back to Kildare and stuff, but I’m glad you’re here. Really. It’s nice having you back, sis.”

Your mood sobers, smile turning solemn.

“Thanks,” you quietly reply.

He nods once more and pats the doorframe in farewell. “Right, I’ll let you get unpacked. See you later.”

“See ya.”

When John B leaves – the front door shuddering against the house as it slams shut – you’re overcome with quiet. In Colorado, where you lived with your mom in the city, there was little nature. You forgot how peaceful Kildare is. Through the crack in the window, birdsong and cricket chimes accompany the sound of your unpacking. You turf out your clothes and take to putting them in the closet. Shoes and bags and bikinis. A jacket and a few sweatshirts. It was easy enough to plan for your outfits considering you’re only staying the summer. You remember the weather in Kildare well enough from when you used to live here.

Once you’ve unpacked your clothes, you find your paints. A box of watercolours which have seen much use and love, the hinges rusted and the inside of the palette smeared with dried mixed paint. Turning to the bedside table, you pull open the bottom drawer on accident. You come face to face with corny porno magazines, a box of tissues, two wrapped condoms and a half empty bottle of painkillers.

“Gross,” you mutter, slamming it shut. Yep, this was definitely a dude’s bedroom.

The top drawer is empty, like John B promised. You fill it with your paints and sketchbooks and pencils.

As the day ploughs on, the room becomes increasingly saturated with your personality. Postcards from Colorado, of the towns and cities you visited, photographs from school of your friends and classmates: you scatter them along them wall, amongst John B’s. Some of your favourite paintings, alongside artists which inspire you, join the mix. On the desk you add a few of your own books to the haphazard stack of abandoned homework and school reports.

At the bottom of your duffle bag is your penny board. You look around the room, searching for empty space to slot it without adding to already cluttered surroundings, and opt to slot it under the bed. Ducking down, you come face to face with a collection of empty beer cans. Clearly the spring cleaning only went so far. It’s noisy as you drag them out, but you’re certain you hear someone shouting. Pausing, sitting back on your haunches, you turn to peer out the open bedroom door. It’s silent for a moment, and then you hear footsteps.

“Yo! JB, you home?”

It’s a guy shouting. His voice sounds vaguely familiar. When he comes into the corridor, he glances into Big John’s bedroom (now claimed by your older half-brother) first. Blonde messy hair and well-worn combat boots instantly name him. JJ.  He turns to the spare bedroom and stops short the moment his eyes land on you, sat amongst a pile of trash.

“You’re not John B,” he says.

“What gave me away?” you reply with a lift of your brows.

There’s a long awkward moment where he stares at you. You can practically hear the cogs turning as he takes you in. When you lift your arm up to scratch the back of your neck, realisation dawns upon him. You imagine your scar on the outside of your elbow gave you away.

“Holy crap! Little Routledge?” he gapes.

You laugh. “Haven’t been called that in a minute.”

JJ steps into the room and you get to your feet. He tackles you into a hug. It’s too short, too sudden, and then he’s stepping away from you again, leaving you dizzy on your feet.

“The fuck? You’re, like, grown now,” he says.

Rolling your eyes, you reply, “well, I am sixteen.”

“The fuck!” he repeats. He then takes in where you’re standing, and the state of the room, and frowns. “Wait, what are you doing here? I thought you were in Colorado with your mom?”

“I was,” you say. You kick one of the cans out the way and fold your arms over your chest, shrugging. “I came back for the summer.”

“Oh, that’s sick!”

You laugh. It’s a nice reaction to have from someone who you haven’t seen for over two years.

“John B gave you his old room then?”

He walks into it as if it’s his own. You watch as he studies the new additions to the wall that you’ve added. Lingers on one of your paintings.

"Yeah, he’s moved into his dad’s, apparently.”

“Yeah, he moved in there a while ago,” JJ tells you. “I’ve been sleeping in here most of the time.”

Your mind flashes back to the bedside drawer stocked with teenage boy necessities. Ah, makes sense. You remember how JJ was when you were a dorky thirteen-year-old. At the ripe age of fourteen, he had girls fawning after him. He was shameless in his reputation. The conversations you overheard between himself and John B as he’d brag about his escapades are seared into your memory, as you felt your wasted preteen heart splinter with every tale. It’s no surprise now that he’s probably just as unruly. Especially considering how he looks. There isn’t much time to ogle though because he’s looking away from the décor, meeting your gaze again.

“That explains all the empty beer cans, then,” you say.

He cringes. “Yeah, uh, sorry ‘bout that.”

You shrug. “It’s cool. I need to toss ‘em out but I don’t know where the trash bags are…”

“Oh, right,” he says, breezing past you. His cologne lingers in the air when he leaves. There’s the smallest moment for you to catch your breath as JJ bangs around in the kitchen, and then he reappears with a roll of black bags. Tosses them to you and you catch. “Here.”

“Thanks.”

You begin to shove the cans into the bag and JJ starts to help. His black button-up gapes open as he leans over and it takes everything not to glance down his shirt like some pervert.

“How come you didn’t want to stay in Colorado for the summer, then?”

“Change of scenery,” you vaguely reply. It isn’t a complete lie, but it isn’t the whole truth either.

“Well, you chose the best summer to come back. Our mission this year is to have the best summer of all time.”

“Pretty lofty goal to set,” you chuckle.

JJ glances up at you, flashing you a grin. “Nah, we got it in the bag.”

You find yourself smiling back, held captive under his stare. When he takes the now full trash bag off you, tying it off, you snap out of it.

“So, where’s your brother at then?” he asks, heading out the room. You follow.

“At work. Said he does jobs for Cameron now.”

“Oh, yeah. Cameron sorta took him under his wing after his dad…went missing,” JJ replies.

You have a feeling that the way people talk about John B’s father is rather doctored.

“I can’t believe he’s gone,” you tell him, referring to Big John.

As you step on the porch, the sunlight warms your face. The floorboards creak as you make your way down them, to the garbage can outside.

“It was insane,” JJ says to you. He tosses the trash away. “I mean, we all knew Big John was a bit too into the whole royal-merchant thing but…we never thought it’d go that far, you know?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “Scary.”

JJ looks at you a moment longer. Then, he laughs to himself and shakes his head. “Can’t believe you’re sixteen now.”

“Can’t believe you’re seventeen.”

“What? I look good or something?”

He does a small spin on the spot, arms held out by his sides. You roll your eyes, acting as if you’re unaffected. It’s hard to swallow the reflex reaction of yes.

“Or something,” you say.

JJ takes it in stride. “Well, you look pretty cute yourself considering you’ve been in the mountains for the last three years.”

“I don’t live in the mountains,” you snort. The word ‘cute’ rattles around your head like a pinball.

“You’re taller now too. Practically come up to my shoulders. I remember when me and John B could pick you up by your ankle like a marlin.”

“Yeah, I remember that too,” you not-so-fondly recall.

JJ grins and steps over to you. Despite both of your growth spurts, you still have to look up at him, and him down at you. His eyes are just as dreamy as you remember them. When you first left for Colorado, you hardly had time to pack. In the midst of chaos, taking a picture of your brother’s best friend didn’t seem all that important. Cut to you spending endless nights trying to remember his eyes, the exact colour and the exact shape. Trying to remember the dimples that popped out when he smiled. The pure joy in his laugh. The way your heart felt like it might explode whenever he looked at you, even if it were for a second.

But when JJ pats your head, your chest deflates.

“Well, see you around, little Routledge,” he says, stepping away. “Tell your brother I was looking for him.”

Because even after all these years, you’re still just John B’s little sister in JJ’s eyes.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

You stare into your can of cider. In the night, the only light being that from the bonfire John B started up in the backyard, you can’t make out the colour of it. Just the swirling of liquid. You’d spent the last three days working on a watercolour of the marsh side to John B’s house, but you couldn’t capture the movement of the water quite right.

“Wait, I’m confused,” Pope frowns.

“What’s there to be confused about, Pope?” JJ sighs, seemingly exhausted from the questions. There had been an influx of them the minute John B brought you out of the Chateau. “His mom shagged her dad and boom, here she is.”

“Charming mental images there, JJ, thanks,” John B cringes.

You laugh into your drink.

“No, I get that. But…You used to live here, right?” Pope asks you.

You nod.

“But then you moved to Colorado?”

“Yeah?”

“But now you’re back here?”

“Apparently,” you say.

Pope’s frown deepens: apparently that cleared nothing up for him. You’ve never known someone so analytical. “This is complicated,” he observes.

“No shit,” Kiara quips.

It was complicated. Families usually are. You and John B had different dads, in short. Your shared mom cheated on Big John when John B was hardly a year old, putting you around 11 or so months behind him. She ran off to Raleigh with your dad to try and fix their tumultuous relationship, leaving you with Big John for practically thirteen years. Whilst he wasn't unkind to you, he never saw you as his. You supposed you were a reminder of his ex-wife's unfaithfulness. But John B treated you like blood, as did his friends.

Just after your thirteen birthday, your mom decided to flee the state, and she was taking you with her. It all came out of the blue. You weren’t exactly thrilled to go to Colorado. You liked Kildare, and North Carolina, and John B and his friends. Kiara was always nice to you. She never talked down to you, despite you being seen as John B’s little sister. You bonded over turtles and Bob Marley. JJ was different. He’d prank you with John B and tease you about your dolls, but he’d also patch you up if you fell and calm you down after a nightmare. Your crush on him evolved naturally over time. What started as childhood infatuation with the supposed delinquent of Kildare became real. You liked JJ. He was funny and rambunctious, but he had a kindness and tenderness that he kept hidden below. He was often at the house as his own family situation was far from perfect, so having him around became as familiar as John B’s presence. When you left, JJ gave you a hug that you wished would last a lifetime.

But you drifted away in Colorado. You didn’t have anybody’s phone number, save for Big John’s (which your mom refused to let you use), and you were too young to remember addresses to write to them. Social media was never something you latched onto and eventually it all faded away into a strange, dreamlike memory. Being back here is almost proof that you didn’t imagine the whole thing.

“We’re half siblings,” you say, whittling down your family history into a simple statement. “That’s all you really need to know.”

“Damn straight,” JJ whoops, downing the last of his drink. He crunches the can in his fist and heads to the cooler for another.

“You’re staying for the whole summer then?” Kiara asks.

You nod. “I’m tryna get a job at this restaurant in town to keep me busy.”

“Screw that. Just come smoke and surf with us all day, that’ll keep you occupied,” JJ grins.

He’s comfortable in himself, relaxing in a lawn chair, legs outstretched and crossed at the ankles. His t-shirt represents one of Kildare’s small-town establishments and his shorts are stained with dust and dirt from riding his bike.

“She’s the good one out of us lot,” John B announces, gesturing to you. “Out of all the Routledge offspring, she’s gonna go places. You’re not gonna taint that, JJ.”

“And by ‘all the Routledge offspring’ you mean yourself and her?” Pope checks.

John B nods fervently. “I’m telling you! She’s madly talented.”

“You’re drunk; it’s giving you beer goggles,” you dismiss, finishing your drink.

“You were always the creative one,” JJ remarks. Everyone looks over to him. “Me and John B would be out on the water and she’d be drawing it.”

“Maybe you can show us some of your stuff,” Kiara says.

You laugh and shake your head. “Maybe not.”

The alcohol wizzes up your body as you get to your feet and you take it as a good time to call it quits.

“I think I’m gonna head in.”

“What?”

“No!”

“Come on!”

You laugh, shaking off the group’s disputes. “I’m tired!”

“Lightweight,” JJ teases. You flip him off as you pass, ditching your empty can in the garbage as you go.

“Night guys!” you holler as you head back into the house.

“Night!”

The bedroom John B offered you is starting to feel less like a guest house. You shrug off your cardigan – it stinks of smoke from the fire – and close the door. Through the window, you can hear the group chattering.

Pope seems nice. He hadn’t been around when you lived in Kildare, but you recognised his name. Heyward was a legend on the Cut; you could see his dad in his eyes. Kiara was just as you remembered her, if not more consumed by her environmental activism than before. JJ was the most staggering change of all. He’d grown into his looks, matured around the face. Any puppy fat that you remembered from childhood had vanished. Lithe and lively, he was an American heartthrob, through and through.

As you do your skincare, you glance out the window. You can make out JJ, sat with his back to you. His arms are flailing around as he tells a story. You can’t make out the details through the window but the looks on everyone’s faces tells you it’s pretty damn entertaining. He was always the joker, humour hiding whatever was happening underneath like he was arming himself with a grin. The unexplained bruises on his face and the painful batterings on his body were never explained whenever he’d stay at Big John’s, when you were younger.

The moment he shifts in his seat, you dart away from the window, scared to get caught, and finish getting ready for bed.

A bad dream rouses you awake. It was about Colorado. The warped memories keep you from falling back asleep, no matter how hard you try. Sighing, you stare at the ceiling. The room is bathed in moonlight, cosy in the wooden interior, and you contemplate sitting outside for a bit. The same cardigan from earlier gets pulled on over your vest top and you slip into some crocs.

You head for the front door, creeping past John B’s room, and step onto the porch. There’s a warm, humid air in the night. The crickets and owls harmonise with the faint buzz of mosquitos who surround the porch light. That’s when you realise that it’s already on, and you’re not alone. JJ’s on the porch, laid out on the sofa. He’s smoking a joint. The smell of weed merges into that of the dying embers from the abandoned, extinguished bonfire. You rap gently on the wall as you approach, hoping not to startle him.

“Hey,” he says, looking up at the sound.

“Hey.”

“Can’t sleep?”

“No,” you say. “I thought everyone went home.”

“They did. I’m crashing here tonight. My dad’s…”

He falters, glances up at you, and shakes his head.

“Don’t need to bore you with it.”

“You’re not boring,” you hear yourself tell him.

Smiling, JJ offers the joint to you. You take it, sitting down in the red armchair at the foot of the sofa. The weed consumes your senses when you take a drag, hitting the back of your throat and dulling your thoughts.

“Haven’t smoked in ages,” you say.

“Big smoking community out in Colorado?” JJ asks.

You laugh. “Not where I live, no.”

He takes the joint back when you lean over to him. Tilts his head back as he takes another hit. He’s in the same clothes as earlier, hasn’t even taken off his boots; his hair is tousled like he tried to sleep but couldn’t. You’re caught in the act of staring at him. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even make a joke. Instead, he holds your gaze. It’s almost like a silent challenge: who’ll break first?

“Can I say something kinda inappropriate?” he asks.

“I feel like you have to, now.”

JJ grins at that, amused. “You’re way cuter than I remember you.”

“Oh? You mean sweaty thirteen-year-old, chalk-highlight-pink-hair wasn’t cute?” you joke.

Shaking his head, he adds, “No. Well, yeah, but not in the way you are now.”

Your stomach tightens and heart constricts, and you wish you had the joint to have something to distract yourself with. You hope you sound calm and collected when you say, “thanks. You don’t look too bad yourself.”

“Oh, you’re too kind,” JJ jokes. He takes another long, deep drag. “Is it nice? Being back in Kildare?”

You glance off to the marsh. You forgot to check the time when you got up but judging from the endless navy blue of the sky, it’s still late.

“Sure.”

“Sure?”

You look back to him. “It’s better than Colorado.”

“So, you’re not missing home then?”

The blunt is passed back to you. Taking a drag, you ponder his question. “I don’t think I know where home is right now. I don’t think it’s Colorado, but I don’t know if it’s here either. Maybe I don’t have one.”

JJ doesn’t say anything and you remember yourself. Laughing self-deprecatingly, you shake your head.

“Sorry, think this joint’s going to my head. That was dramatic.”

“No, no, I get ya,” JJ assures. “I know what you mean.”

“You don’t like Kildare?” you ask him.

His expression darkens like a shadow has cast over him. “It depends.”

“Hm,” you say. Nothing more is said on the matter. You get the sense that JJ was vague on purpose.

Pulling your legs into your seat, you glance around at the clutter on the porch. A surfboard is lent against the nett lining of the porch; a rusting duck ornament balances on one of the beams. What looks to be a broken radio sits beside a half-full bottle of rum on a small table by the couch.

“I think it’s good for John B, having you back.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” JJ smiles. “He sorta spun out when his dad disappeared. You’re kinda the only family he has left.”

“You’re his family too. Been around longer than I have,” you tell him.

JJ’s smile softens. He glances away from you, fiddling with the paper of the joint, almost as if he’s flustered. “Thanks.”

“So,” you say, “you got some poor girl on this island falling after you?”

“Rude of you to assume there’s only one,” JJ grins wickedly.

You roll your eyes.

“What about you? Some West Coast jock waiting for you back in the home state?”

The sarcastic ‘har har’ that he gets has JJ frowning, bemused.

“Definitely no guy, and definitely no jock.”

“Now that I find hard to believe,” JJ says.

Before you can ask what he means by that, or spiral out by thinking too much about it, JJ’s getting to his feet. He puts the blunt out on the window ledge, ditching the empty butt in a filthy dish. Stretching his arms over his head, sighing, you watch as his t-shirt rides up. The tensing of his abdominal muscles is like torture. God, to run your hands up his chest, over his shoulders, tangle them in the salt-soaked strands of his hair…

“Right, night Little Routledge,” JJ says.

You blink away from his chest and meet his gaze. There’s a strange expression on his face, one you don’t recognise, and you want to scrutinise it and find out what it means. But it’s gone in a flash, as is he as he heads back into the house. You watch through the window as his silhouette drops onto the pull-out sofa.

It takes a minute to regain your composure.

You can’t think of JJ like that. He certainly doesn’t think of you like that, and that childhood crush has long been put to bed. Shaking it awake is the last thing you need right now. Besides, he’s John B’s best friend. Your brother’s best friend. The same brother who’s taken you back into his house, offered you a room, free of charge, without complaint or question. And it seems like John B needs as many people around him as possible right now. But it’s hard to maintain that line of thought, when as you lie back down in your bed, desperate to get some sleep, you can vividly picture the slit of JJ’s chest that you were privy to just moments ago when you close your eyes.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

You follow Tom through the restaurant. He’s the supervisor, eighteen and a fresh high school graduate. It’s hard to keep up with him as he points things out: waiter’s station; kitchen; storeroom…You’d forgotten how overwhelming job orientations can be.

“And this,” he pushes a door open, “is the staff room.”

You glance in and take in the messy pile of shoes, the overflowing trash can, and the three coat pegs overwhelmed with bags and hoodies.

“Love what you’ve done with the space.”

Tom laughs. He closes the door and leans against the doorframe. Broad shouldered, he stands taller than you by a couple inches.

“So, what made you want to work here?”

“I’m really interested in not being broke,” you reply, making him laugh.

“You new to the island? Feel like I haven’t seen you around?”

“This island that small?”

“Or you’re just that unforgettable,” he smoothly returns.

Your face fires up. Laughing nervously, you shift your stance. “I just moved in with my half-brother for the summer. Need something to keep me busy for a few months.”

“Ah, sweet. Anyone I’d know?”

“Dunno,” you say. He starts back into the main restaurant building. They haven’t opened yet. It’s void of life. “John B Routledge?”

“Oh shit, yeah. JB,” he says, flashing you a grin.

He’s charming in a disarming way. The kind of face that a modelling agency would swipe up because of his easy marketability.

When the two of you approach the bar, there’s a girl stood polishing wine glasses. She looks to be about your age, maybe a couple of years older. Her smile is sweet and welcoming like warm hot chocolate on a winter’s night.

“Hey, Lizzy. This is the new starter,” Tom introduces.

“I’m guessing I got the job then?” you ask him. He nods. With that, you offer a hand to Lizzy.

“Nice to meet ya,” she says, shaking it. “Could do with more girls around here.”

“Happy to help,” you reply.

“So, you think you can cover a shift tomorrow night? I figured cause you’ve waitressed before it shouldn’t take too long for you to learn the ropes here,” Tom says.

You nod. “Sure. Sounds good.”

“We’ll see you tomorrow then,” he says.

You bid farewell to himself and Lizzy, seeing yourself out the front door. The restaurant is in the heart of the cut, surrounded by other small businesses and hipster start-ups. You begin the journey home, plugging in your headphones and submerging yourself in Reggae music. Children play in the local park and preteens chatter as they speed past you on their bikes. There’s a warm breeze that brushes past you; it smells of sea water and fried fish. You’re passing the harbour. Eyes land on Heyward’s store, the logo just as you remember it from all those years ago. It’s surreal being back.

When your phone buzzes, you pause your sightseeing to check it. It might be John B asking after the interview. Your throat closes up when you see your mom’s contact pop up. A text. ‘Call me back.’

Just like that, you’re dragged out of Kildare and are back in Colorado.

It’s impossible to ignore the text, but you do your best either way. You don’t even remember half the journey to the Chateau as you walk through the door. JJ is home. He’s sat at the messy dining table, eating a bowl of cereal and scrolling through his phone. Tugging out your earbuds, you give a small wave hello.

“How’d the interview go? That was today, right?”

“Smashed it. Got the job,” you say.

“Oh, sweet. Congrats.”

“Thanks.”

You ditch your bag by the door along with your phone. Taking the seat opposite him, you sit cross-legged on the wooden chair. The sketchbook you’d abandoned earlier lays dormant. Opening it up, you flick to your latest piece of the marsh. It’s coming together rather well. You’d decided to add the H.M.S Pogue, sat harboured on the grass. JJ peers over his bowl to the painting.

“Holy shit. That’s sick,” he says through his mouthful of Captain Crunch.

“Thanks,” you smile. “I’m pretty happy with how it’s come out, considering how old these paints are.”

JJ watches as you crack open the aforementioned watercolours. The smell of artificial paint teases the air. Dampening a thin brush in the mason jar of water, you dip into the blue.

“They bad quality or something?”

“A little. They best ones are Winsor and Newton, but I can’t justify spending over twenty bucks on paints.”

“Why not? You’ve clearly got a gift,” JJ says.

You hate how casual he is when he says things like that to you. Like it doesn’t knock the breath out of you like a sucker punch to the chest.

“S’just practice,” you mumble.

You can feel his gaze as you paint. Resting your chin in your hand, you work at the water under the jetty, trying to perfect the shading. You want to feel as though you can walk into the painting; like you could drown in the crystal clean waves.

Painting had become an escape when you were in Colorado. Whatever you could remember of Kildare, you’d paint. When that well ran dry, you began to paint places you wished you could go. Anywhere but the dilapidating family home you’d found yourself in. Secret gardens made of twisting ivy and crumbling, ornate statues hidden amongst orchids and rose bushes. Cosmic planes with make-believe ice cream stations snuck onto Mars and Venus; whales which bathed in the stars and caught a tan in moonbeams. Underwater societies full of sea kelp and multicoloured coral reefs, with octopi hiding amongst crabs and shellfish.

You glance up to find JJ transfixed on the painting. There’s a crease between his brows as if he’s the one concentrating. It makes you laugh, quiet and under breath, and he looks up. Holds your stare.

“That’s amazing, that you can just do that,” JJ says, remarking to your work.

You swallow the sickly rush that his words give you. His tongue dampens his lower lip, tantalisingly slow. You feel it hit somewhere deep inside of you. Something in the air shifts.

Then, so quiet neither of you can be sure he really said it, he utters, “you’re amazing.”

“Yo!”

The door swings open with your brother’s arrival. Your head spins over your shoulder to the front door. John B stands holding a bag of takeout burgers in the air beside his head.

“Y’all hungry?”

“Hell yeah,” JJ says.

When you look to him, it feels as if you could have imagined the whole interaction had just moments ago. JJ’s sat in his seat as he was before, unfazed.

He abandons his cereal and follows John B into the kitchen like a starving dog, begging for food. You place your paintbrush back into the water and join them. John B unpacks the burgers and fries onto half-clean plates. You watch JJ toss a fry into the air and catch it, whooping in celebration. A plate is handed back to you, over John B’s shoulder.

“Beef burger with cheese, no pickles.”

“Thank you,” you sing-song, taking the plate off him.

JJ turns around and looks at you with faux disgust. “No pickles?”

You shake your head, heading back to the table. JJ and John B join you with their own quick dinners, and the three of you eat. You tell John B about the summer job you secured, and he tells you and JJ about Sarah Cameron and her new boy-toy Topper. JJ says he’s “biceps without a brain” when you ask which one Topper is.

“That can’t be his real name,” you snort.

“Oh, it is,” John B replies.

“His name is almost as dumb as he is,” JJ sniggers.

There’s the sound of chewing and swallowing.

“Two official weeks into summer,” John B randomly announces.

You quirk a brow. “Two weeks since I came back to Kildare.”

JJ holds his cup of soda up in a toast. John B wipes his mouth and raises his own, as do you. The three of you clink cups, smiling at the stupidity. As you bring your cup to your lips to drink, you find your eyes meeting JJ’s across the table. He holds your gaze as he sips, swallows and licks his lips of the sugar. You feel it hit somewhere deep, deep inside of you. JJ looks back to John B and starts recounting his tales of the day fishing, leaving you stumped.

What the hell was that?

~*~*~*~*~*~*

As your days in Kildare stretch on, your imagination becomes your most loved and loathed place all at once.

The Pogues had taken you under their wing without a second thought. It felt as if it wasn’t just because you were John B’s younger sister. Kiara would spend hours talking to you about music and star signs. Pope would discuss books and artists that he’d read about, falling into a huge debate about whether Andy Warhol is as legendary as everyone makes him out to be (the answer is, of course, yes). You and John B connected as brother and sister, filling that hole of ‘family’ that had been taken from both of you within the past year. Movie nights sharing popcorn and critiquing corny horror films, and mornings spent tending to the yard and fishing at the jetty: you felt yourself coming back bit by bit, in the company of the brunette.

But spending time with the Pogues came with spending more time with JJ. That little childhood crush that you’d claimed had succumb a long, undisturbed slumber…Oh, she had been awoken. Him staying over more and more on the pull-out when him and his dad ‘got into a thing’ meant the throw pillows smelt like his cologne and soap. He’d offer you his sweatshirt when sat around the bonfire on evenings drinking, and the warm distinct smell of him would consume you, drown you in the pheromones, affecting you like some pathetic animal in heat. Days spent surfing and sunbathing at the break gave you space to shamelessly ogle his bare chest, splattered in sea water, scorched and tanned with sunlight. The ripple of his lats when wearing his useless muscle tees as he waxed his board in the surf shack. His jawline strong and steely when annoyed or focused, with faint blonde stubble a week after shaving. But you swear he knew how it affected you. Swear he knew it drove you crazy whenever he’d fleetingly touch your back, brushing past you in the kitchen to grab a drink, or adjust your grip when helping him fix up his bike. When sharing a blunt on the porch (as you often did when sleep couldn’t come), he’d take his time passing it to you, fingers brushing. Innocent, incidental touches that felt calculated and planned. The way his eyes would gaze into yours, like he could read your thoughts and decipher your wants. A vague, barely-there smirk to his lips, constantly tortured by his tongue and teeth…

God, your whole body feels as if it has been on fire for the past week.

You blame your overactive thoughts of JJ on your boredom. Working at the restaurant hadn’t been sufficient distraction from the mess that is your life right now. Even now, as you stand before the till, typing through an order for the kitchen and bar, you feel your mind wandering. To thoughts of the Chateau, and to a certain blonde-haired guy sprawled on the pull-out sofa, shirtless, back on proud display…

“You gonna be much longer?”

“No, I shouldn’t be,” you say to Tom.

You hope your embarrassment doesn’t read on your face. It’s not as if he could hear your thoughts, so you’re not sure why you feel caught in the act. You finish selecting the sides for table 16 and press ‘store table’. Stepping to the side to grab some side plates, Tom takes over the till.

He’s nice. Makes you laugh a lot at work, as you slander rude tables and gush over those that tip an extra twenty.

After depositing the side plates at the table, you head to the bar to run the drinks you put through. Lizzy is mixing the cocktail you ordered. She pours rum into a shaker and then passionfruit puree.

“Can I ask you something?” you say to her.

She glances over. The two of you had gotten closer at work. You were hoping to hang out with her one time down at the beach, or maybe grab lunch after a morning shift. She runs a hand over her buzzcut hair style and nods.

“Do you think there’s such a thing as bad thoughts?”

“Bit deep to be asking that at eight o’clock at night, don’t you think?” she smirks.

You roll your eyes. As she goes on making the cocktail, you elaborate. “I have this dumbass crush on this guy which I know I shouldn’t have…I just feel bad for thinking about him so much.”

“Well, that’s dumb,” she snorts.

There’s the loud rattle of ice against stainless steel as Lizzy shakes the cocktail. Then, as she strains it into a martini glass, she looks up at you once more.    

“Who’s this guy? Do I know him?”

“Maybe.”

Her eyebrows shoot up into her hairline. “Is it Tom?”

And, no, it isn’t Tom, but maybe saying it is means she won’t keep digging. You’d rather keep your embarrassing years-long infatuation with your brother’s best friend close to the chest. So, you do your best to look meek as you nod.

“Holy shit! Well, if it makes you feel better, he’s totally into you,” Lizzy tells you.

“He is?”

“Hell yeah. Guy practically ogles you across the room,” she says.

You glance over to Tom. He’s stood before a table, talking away, scribbling down their order on a notepad. At the feeling of being watched, he looks up and meets your gaze. You flash him a small smile and he mirrors it quickly before returning his focus to the task at hand.

“So, do you?”

“Think there’s such a thing as bad thoughts?” Lizzy checks. You nod. She ponders the question whilst garnishing the cocktail. “No. No, I think only actions talk. I mean, I think bad things all the time about customers who are dicks. I could put glass in their drinks: that’d show them sort of thing. But I don’t actually put glass in their drinks, so I’m off the hook. Nobody’s the wiser.”

It’s a somewhat extreme example but it gets the point across. You take the tray and nod.

“I mean, maybe fantasising about it might be cathartic. Get it out your system, you know?” Her sly wink speaks volumes as to what these ‘fantasies’ are about. You roll your eyes.

“Thank you for your advice, Lizz. I’ll keep it in mind.”

“Anytime sunshine.”

With that, you walk over table 16 and deliver their drinks. The rest of the shift passes by rather quickly. You end up making a bet with Tom that you can sell more pints of larger than him and come up victorious, leaving work with an extra ten dollars in your pockets.

The streets are painted sunset purple, orange and pink. You spot John B’s campervan, known as The Twinkie, in the parking lot; he’d promised to pick you up after work tonight. But as you walk up to the passenger side, you realise it’s JJ behind the wheel. You’re not sure if the feeling of your organs shrinking is a good thing or a bad thing.

“Where’s John B?” you ask, climbing in beside him.

“Nice way to say, ‘hi JJ, it’s so good to see you!’”

“Okay, hi JJ,” you say, rolling your eyes. He starts the engine. “Now, where’s my brother?”

“He had to go do something for Cameron.”

“At ten at night?”

“Dude, I just work here, a’right? I do as he says so he lets me stay on his sofa,” JJ says. You laugh.

The radio kicks on and ‘Downtown Lights’ starts to play. You look out the window as he drives, watching the houses fade into overgrow and trees.

“Hey, you hungry?”

“Starved.”

“We can swing by a Wendy’s on the way home, if you wanna,” JJ says.

You smile as you look over to him, nodding. With that, he takes the next left and the two of you make your way in comfortable silence to the drive through. At the worker’s request, JJ recounts his order: two hamburgers, both with cheese, one without pickles. Oh and a large Pepsi.

As he pulls forward to pay, you say, “you remembered I don’t like pickles?”

He glances over to you like you’re stupid for even asking. “Course.”

Food secured, Pepsi in the cupholder for you both to share, you start the journey to the Chateau.

“Feed me a fry?”

You laugh and oblige. It’s the least you can do, considering he bought you takeout, after all. You turf one out the brown paper bag and hold up to his lips. His breath fans against your fingers as he takes it. Chews and swallows. You managed to tear your eyes away. That man could yawn and you’d be mesmerised, you swear. It’s pathetic.

“Thanks.”

“Course.”

The ride back is over way too soon. You take what’s left of your food and your bag, opening the door. “You staying over tonight?”

JJ contemplates a moment before shaking his head. He studies his hands as they run up and over the steering wheel when he says, “no. No, I gotta go home sometime.”

“Right,” you quietly say. The last fight him and his dad got in was ugly. He came over, shaking with anger, a purple bruise forming under his eye. It scared the shit out of you to let him go back there alone. “Well, thanks for the food.”

JJ looks up from the steering wheel and takes you in. His lips move, like he wants to say something, but he seems to abandon the thought. You take it as your cue to leave.

“See you soon.”

“Yeah. See you soon, Little Routledge.”

You hate that nickname. The resentment is thick to swallow as you say goodnight, stepping out the van.

John B isn’t home when you walk into the Chateau. The lights are off, dirty dishes piled up in the sink. The sofa bed is unmade from the last time JJ slept on it. You contemplate crashing on it for the night, just so you can feel as if you’re near to him, but you know that’s insane. If John B were to find you there, he’d only be concerned that something was wrong with your own room, either way. So you trundle back to your bedroom and strip out of your uniform. Makeup rinsed off and teeth brushed, you crawl into bed and drift off easily.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

His lips are hot and wet on your skin, kissing down your stomach. Your breathing’s laboured like you’re fighting an adrenaline rush. He seems to notice, laughing darkly against your tummy.

“So wound up already and I’ve barely touched you,” JJ croons in his southern drawl.

Your eyes slip shut, fighting back a whimper as his fingers dip teasingly into the waistband of your panties. A moan finally lets slip at the sensation of his lips pressing against your crotch, over the cotton.

“You want it?”

“Please,” you whisper.

“Yeah? You want my mouth?”

“Yes, JJ, please.”

It’s embarrassing to beg but you don’t have much left in your mind other than thoughts of him to even care.

Fingers knotting into his hair, you try and coax him lower still. And he obliges. Drags your panties down your legs like time is a luxury. You wonder if he likes teasing you; if it brings him pleasure like the feeling of his hands on your body does for you. He leans back on his haunches and runs his palms up and down your thighs, staring at you exposed pussy. His shark tooth necklace sits against his toned chest and you’re jealous of how close it gets to be to him.

“Fuck,” JJ groans as you open your legs.

He leans back down and nuzzles your inner thigh, pressing a sharp kiss with his teeth, sucking in the skin and relishing your pleasured yelp. It feels as if he’s marking you as he leaves the hickey: mine.

“Been dreaming ‘bout this.”

Before you can let out another pathetic plea, JJ situates himself between your legs and goes down on you. Eats you out like a man who’s been lost at sea, like a man starved. Sighs at the taste of you on his tongue, kissing at your thighs as if to catch his breath, dragging you closer and closer to the edge. The damp of his tongue laps at your clit and your legs lock around him in a vice. He’s indefatigable, insatiable and…it’s too much.

“I can’t,” you whine hopelessly. Your fingers grasp at the sheets, eyes clenched shut.

“Come on,” JJ preens. “Wanna see you come.”

He leans close to your ear, taking your lobe between his teeth, and slips a finger into your seeping hole. Your orgasm comes like waves crashing over splintered rocks; breathing jagged and vision blurring behind eyelids. Somewhere in the euphoric haze you cry out his name. Flashes of colour blending into a mercurial high as he works you through your ecstasy, unrelenting.

You gasp awake.

Had you been sleeping?

Your forehead is damp with sweat, throat parched and chest heaving. Anyone would have thought you’d have just sprinted three miles. When you sit up in bed, you register the pulsing between your legs and the telltale stickiness of your thighs.

Shit. Good thing there’s no such thing as bad thoughts.

Wiping at your face, your skin feels red hot. You venture to the bathroom and drink water from the faucet. Making eye contact with yourself is too hard right now, considering you just had the most incredible wet dream about your brother’s best friend. Now that the high is passing, you’re overcome with shame and guilt. You’re delusional. Maybe you should submit yourself to be sectioned. Would be a good way to kill some of these summer weeks…

Heading back to bed feels like returning to the scene of a crime. Instead, you head out onto the porch, dressed in nothing but a t-shirt and panties. John B’s a deep sleeper, you’ve come to learn. You’ve never heard him get up in the night, in all your moments of insomnia. There’s no risk of crossing paths with him out here.

Stepping out onto the paint-peeled floorboards, you notice he forgot to turn off the porch light when he came home. Great, I guess I know where my wage is going. But as you head to your favourite red armchair, ready to gaze out at the marsh and watch the waterside plants dance in the breeze, you freeze.

JJ’s on the sofa. And he’s awake. You can tell just from where you’re stood.

Before you can flee back to your room, the floorboard creaks. JJ jolts up and looks around, eyes landing on you. You swallow. The moment you lay eyes on him, part of your dream comes screaming back to you. The way your voice cracked as you cried out his name, tumbling over the edge. You quickly shun away the thoughts, slamming them closed in a box, before your body can lose itself to the fantasy once more. Please God tell me that I didn’t actually scream his name.

“Hi,” you dumbly say.

“Hey.”

“I thought you were staying at your place tonight,” you say.

JJ shrugs. “Change of plans, I guess.”

“Oh.”

He looks back ahead at the armchair, back to you, and you can’t help but pull a face akin to holy shit what the fuck do I do? When he holds up a joint, you decide to stay. Panties are just the same as a bikini anyway, and he’s seen you in those. You make sure to wear your cutest ones when he’s surfing with you. The ones that are tight in all the right places and hug your figure in a way that you wished he would. Oh my God, shut up. You wordlessly take the joint as you quickly step past him, planting yourself in the armchair. You pull your legs up and sit atop of them, taking a long drag to try and calm your racing mind and heart. Inspecting the floor seems a good thing to do, suddenly. The divots in the wood from worms and the strips of paint. Looking up, you find JJ’s eyes trained on your legs. His gaze diverts when you lean forward, offering him the blunt again. As he lifts himself to take it, you see him wince, and now in the light of the porch, fully taking him in you, you can make out the bloody cut beside his eye.

“Jesus Christ, JayJ.”

“It’s fine,” he reflexively says. He takes another hit. “Just need some self-medication.”

“Bullshit. You need to clean that thing ‘fore it gets infected.”

“Be my guest,” JJ scoffs.

With that, you get to your feet and head back into the house. The first aid kit is under the bathroom sink. It’s probably the least dusty thing in the whole room. Returning to him, you forget all about the reason that you got up in the first place and shove it to the back of your mind. This was more important than worrying about some dumb dream. Shoving his legs off the couch, you force him to make space for you. You place the first aid kit on your lap and open it. JJ keeps smoking. The smell of weed clouds your senses. Picking out a disinfectant wipe, you turn to him.

“This’ll sting,” you say, opening the packet.

“That’s what she said.”

You frown. “What kind of kinky ass sex are you having?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he grins.

For a moment dread drops down your body, chilling your spine. Did he hear you? No, no he couldn’t have. You probably didn’t make a noise. He’s just being his usual, salacious self.

You take his jawline in hold gently between your fingers. The bone is hard beneath the soft of his skin; fine stubble scratches your fingertips. Leaning up, you try not to get distracted in his eyes as you dab at the cut. You apologise as he hisses. It doesn’t look as intimidating when clean of blood, which is more than a relief. You dip back into the first aid kit and offer up two band aids. One is plain nude and the other Hello Kitty.

“Take your pick.”

He rolls his eyes with a small smile and grabs the Hello Kitty one, holding it out to you. You shift onto your knees, bending over him to plant it over his cut. You notice a bruise forming on his cheek bone on the other side, and a cut lip. You should have insisted he stayed over when he dropped you off. He looks up, as if he can hear your thoughts, and meets your gaze. You can’t seem to find it in yourself to move away.

“It’s not your fault,” he quietly says.

You swallow. It’s scary how easy he can read you. Makes you worry what other thoughts he can tell from your face. “Wished you just stayed here.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Hate the thought of you going back to that house.”

“That’s sweet,” he smiles. “But if I didn’t go, I wouldn’t have you here taking care of me.”

“Oh, was it all part of your masterplan?” you joke, finding your smile again. His seems to grow at the sight.

“Something like that.”

When his lips press to yours, you’re taken aback. It feels like fire, searing hot, and you flinch like you’ve been burnt. You gape at him, wide eyed, and it seems to register what he’s just done. You both move to put as much space between you as possible, as if trying to keep the blaze from spreading.

“Shit, I—”

“I should go back to bed,” you hurry out.

JJ nods. “Yeah, yeah. Course.”

In your scramble to get back to your feet and back in your room, the first aid kit falls to the floor, the contents spilling out. You cuss and drop to your knees, rushing to retrieve all the clutter. JJ joins you, passing you gloves and bandages. You find some nerve to meet his gaze.

“I’m sorry,” he says. The sincerity in his voice…It’s painful.

“It’s okay. I don’t…It isn’t…”

You sigh. Your speech is just as messed as your mind. Closing your eyes, gathering your words, you take a deep breath. Looking back to JJ, you shake your head.

“We can’t.”

“I know,” he replies, almost sadly. Nods once more. “Yeah, I know. I’m just…high. And tired.”

“Right. Course.”

And whilst his excuses should sting, they don’t, because you don’t believe them. JJ smokes enough weed to not be affected all that much by half a joint. But you don’t argue. Instead, you close the box and go to head inside. You stop in the doorway.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you say.

You spare him one last glance. He’s on the floor, head hung and back to you, and you consider staying. But you don’t. You go straight to bed, acting as if a fresh start tomorrow will reset the entire thing.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

In the morning, JJ’s gone. John B doesn’t seem to have even realised he’d stayed over. You find your older brother in the kitchen, washing up the dirty dishes. Swiping up a towel, you come to help.

“Hey. Sleep okay?”

“Yeah,” you lie. “You?”

“Like a rock,” he grins. “You still up for that keggar tonight, at the boneyard?”

“Oh shit, that’s tonight?”

“Yeah. All the others are going,” John B says.

“Yeah, I’ll go. I think I’m catching a ride with Lizzy from work.”

“Alright. Just stay safe.”

“I will,” you drawl. He smiles at you before turning back to the washing up. “Hey, John B?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you. For letting me stay here.”

“Yeah, course,” he says. He pauses his handy work, turning his attention to you. “You’ve always got a bed to crash on here, even if child services are up my ass.”

“I appreciate it. I really needed to get out of Colorado.”

The seven missed calls from your mom slip into your mind. Her texts go unanswered, but she knows you read them. You don’t want her to think you’re in danger. Talking to her is just too much right now.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I needed you back too,” he says. “Things have been kinda messy since my dad…disappeared. I don’t know what I’d do if I was on my own.”

“You’re never gonna be on your own, though,” you smile. “The Pogues would do anything for you. It’s actually kinda scary.”

John B laughs at that. “Yeah, yeah, they’re, uh, not the smartest.”

“Apart from Pope,” you point out. He nods, smiling as he looks back to the soapy water.

“Yeah, apart from Pope.”

“JJ cares about you a lot,” you feel the need to add. His voice last night, apology ready, after your kiss, echoes in your mind.

“I know. I feel like you two are the best things in my life right now,” John B admits. The guilt multiples by tenfold with that. You fix your face when he looks to you. “So, thanks.”

“No worries, big bro,” you reply, nudging his shoulder with yours.

He laughs. “Thanks, little sis.”

With that, you both continue cleaning the pots. The shame from last night gets shoved down into the deepest, darkest pit of your stomach, and you try to go about your day without sparing another thought to JJ.

On the way to the keggar, Lizzy grills you about your ‘crush’ on Tom. “He’s gonna be there tonight, I think.”

“Oh, really?” you say. You know you don’t sound enthused. It’s too much effort to pretend.

“Everything good?” she frowns, glancing away from the road.

You nod and plaster on a smile. “Yeah, yeah. Just tired, I think.”

“Couple drinks in you and you’ll be wide awake, I promise,” she assures.

Nodding, you shift in your seat and look out the window. Your skirt rides up in the processes. It’s a little short but it’s so ridiculously hot tonight, you can’t seem to care. A crotchet style crop-top dresses down the outfit. You don’t want to seem like you’re trying too hard for a beachside keggar. As you pull up closer to the boneyard, cars line the roads. Lizzy finds a spot and parks. You grab the crate of Budlight and her the box of White Claw, and you hop out the car towards the beach. Her stories about work and school have brightened your mood.

She’s tall and remarkably cool in a way that you never will be. She has stick and poke tattoos on her knees and elbows, and nine piercings on one ear. Her nose ring and snake bite piercings are far from intimidating on her cherub like features. The buzzcut has been dyed neon blue, standing bright against her dark skin. As you pass groups of teens, she shouts hello to those she recognises and shares the odd bro-hug.

You add your drinks to the pile of booze before grabbing a can, cracking it open. A quick scan of the scene tells you that the Pogues are still pre-drinking at the Chateau. You’d managed to dodge JJ so far.

“This is a pretty decent turn out,” Lizzy tells you, swigging from her can.

“Know a lot of people here?”

“Sure,” she says. She points to a gaggle of polo-shirt wearing pretty boys who look like they could snap you with one finger. “Those are the gym rat kooks. That tall blonde Topper is with the princess of Figure Eight, Sarah Cameron.”

JJ was right: biceps without a brain. You watch as he shotguns a drink and cracks the can on his forehead. Sarah Cameron, blonde hair straight flowing down her back, does not look impressed.

“And her brother Rafe. That guy’s all kinds of whacked out,” Lizzy mutters. You follow her finger to spot a tall, short haired guy. He looks unapproachable, even from far away.

“Yo Lizzy!”

You both turn to find a crowd of girls and guys. One of them is waving at Lizzy and she waves back.

“Come on, I know these guys. They’re cool,” she tells you, taking your hand and guiding you over.

You’re introduced to everyone and soon enough are roped into beer pong and shots. It’s fun though. Everyone’s having a laugh, cheering each other on. You hear about some good spots to grab food and learn Michael, Lizzy’s closest friend, can drink you under the table. A few hours in and there’s a comfortable buzz to your bones. You haven’t thought about the Pogues, or JJ, or the fleeting kiss all night. As you laugh along to one of Michael’s soccer stories, someone taps you on the shoulder. You turn around to come face to face with Tom.

“Hey,” you smile, squiffy.

“Hey! I didn’t know you were coming tonight.”

“Yeah, I came with Lizzy.”

“Hey, Tom,” she smiles before sending you a more than suggestive look. Oh, shit. The lie. “Hey, why don’t you go get my girl a top up?”

Before you can contest, she’s taking your half full can out of your hand and coaxing you away with an assuring smile. Tom takes it in stride and walks with you to the coolers. He grabs two cans of beer, passing one to you, and you cheers him.

“How you finding Kildare?”

“Good.”

“Yeah? You been hanging with John B’s crowd, right?”

“Most of the time, yeah,” you smile, nodding. He makes a face before taking a drink. You frown. “What?”

“Nah, nothing. They’re just kinda…well, I mean, some people think they’re bad news.”

“Some people, huh?” you say cautiously.

“Just reputations and all that. Like that JJ guy. He’s got slippery fingers, if you know what I mean,” Tom says, wiggling his own in demonstration.

Suddenly this conversation is very unappealing. You glance off to Lizzy and the others. “I should probably get back to them. Thanks for the drink, though.”

“No, hey, no,” Tom says. He grabs you by the wrist. “Come on, I was being a dick. I’ve had one too many. Let’s just hang, alright? I really wanna get to know you.”

You look between him and Lizzy and sigh. Taking a swig, you shrug. “Alright.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to tick you off.”

“I like the Pogues. They’re a good group,” you feel the need to defend.

“No, yeah, they are!” Tom agrees. You can smell the stench of liquor on his breath. “I just don’t want you to get corrupted by them.”

“Excuse me?”

“Just, you’re new here—”

“And so I’m clueless on how to judge people?” you finish sardonically.

Tom rolls his eyes and it makes your anger tick. “Come on, you don’t gotta be a bitch about this.”

“What did you just call me? You know what? Forget it,” you scoff, snatching your arm away from his hold. “Have fun drinking on your own.”

But you don’t get very far before he’s grabbing at you again. “Calm down, would you? Just gimme—”

“Let go!” you demand.

His grip only tightens. The strong front you’re putting on begins to crumble under the panic of this guy is way bigger than me.

“Just quit bitching and we can talk,” he says harshly.

“I don’t want to talk. Now please let go of me,” you firmly return.

He doesn’t let go. Keeps chattering away, insisting that you have to hear him out.

“Let go, Tom!”

“Everything good here?”

Your wide eyes look away from Tom and land on JJ, and your whole body relaxes. He’s looking at you and the panic must read clear on your face because his demeanour changes in a split second. Jaw tight, he turns to Tom.

“I think you should let go, man.”

“You think I’m gonna listen to you?” Tom scoffs.

JJ takes another step towards him. He towers over Tom by enough to be intimidating. “Think you should listen to her.”

“Oh, I get it,” Tom snarls. He lets go of you and you can feel your skin breathing. You rub at the pink marks, easing the sting. Tom gets into JJ’s face, undeterred from a fight. “You wanna keep John B’s sloppy sister for yourself, huh?”

JJ’s fist flies at Tom’s face, making an ugly, visceral sound as it lands on his left cheek. You gasp. Nearly knocked off balance, Tom stumbles on the sand. The commotion has drawn in somewhat of a crowd. Before you can intervene, Tom’s throwing hands. He aims an upper cut to JJ’s jaw but he’s quick to dodge, landing his own punch instead by Tom’s eyebrow. That one seems to deter him. He trips backwards. The chanting of the crowds egging it on makes you feel sick. You’d just finished patching JJ up last night, and you’ve seen his anger before. It takes control quickly and blinds him to reason. The last thing he needs is to wind up in a cell. So, before he can land another hit, you’re stepping forward and grabbing at his arm, stopping him.

“Come on, let’s just go,” you say pleadingly.

His chest is heaving with anger, breathing short and jaw heavy set and tense. He hesitates, looking between yourself and Tom. He’s still cradling his last hit, trying to regain his composure. Sighing, JJ lets you lead him away. Tom’s heckling is laced with slurs directed at you, and you have to keep a steady grip on JJ to keep him from going back.

“He’s not worth it, JayJ,” you mutter.

“You’re so wrong,” JJ darkly returns, but he doesn’t go back.

Away from the beach, back on the road, you let go. He paces for a moment, trying to calm himself. Tugs off his cap and rakes his fingers through his hair, breathing deep and slow. You don’t speak: just let him go through the motions. Babying him through this isn’t going to help anyone.

Whilst violence isn’t the answer to anything, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t grateful for JJ’s help.

Letting him cool off, you take a seat on one of the fallen tree trunks.

“Hey.”

Looking up, JJ walks over. He’s mostly back to himself.

“You okay? He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“No. Just freaked me out a bit. He’s not usually like that. He’s just drunk.”

“Like that’s an excuse,” JJ scoffs. He takes the spot next to you, sitting worryingly close.

The culmination of last night and tonight makes your head spin. The effects of the alcohol vanished the moment Tom took a hold of you. Now you just want to forget the whole thing.

“Wanna get out of here?” JJ asks.

You turn your head to face him and smile smally, nodding.

“Come on. I brought my bike.”

His red bike is parked beside the Twinkie. He climbs on first and offers a hand to help you onto the back. Your arms slot around his middle, circling around his taught chest, pressing yourself against him. Face resting on the middle of his back, you try not to inhale the smell of him. It might be too much for tonight. His calloused hands on yours have you shifting your hold, ensuring your tight against him like a backpack.

“Good?”

“Good,” you quietly reply.

He kicks off the stand and starts up the engine. You pull away from the keggar and up the road, zipping down the isolated streets. There’s nobody around at this time. Not a soul in sight. It feels so right, wrapped up against him like this, safe in his presence. Tom was wrong: JJ wasn’t bad news. Sure, he was a klepto, but he was the same guy who learnt how to sew to fix your favourite pair of shorts when you were little. The same guy who stepped up when some dirtbag was harassing you. The same guy who remembered you don’t like pickles on your burgers. Who looked at your paintings as if they were Picasso.

Somewhere along the ride, one of JJ’s hands comes to rest on your own. You don’t ask why and don’t pull away. Just let the reassuring weight of his hand on yours stay there and ground you to him like an anchor. Here, flying through the night, you can pretend like all the other shit doesn’t matter. It’s just you and him.

He starts onto a dirt track, slowing down, and a house emerges. Pastel yellow painted exterior hidden behind porch netting. There’s clutter of engines and fishing gear amongst surfing supplies. He pulls to a stop and kicks on the stand, turning off the engine. It’s quiet now, without its rumble. “Your dad home?” you can’t help but ask, staring at the front door.

JJ shakes his head. “No. He’s out on Friday nights. Kinda the only routine he has.”

You don’t ask where and he doesn’t expand. You step off the bike and watch as he clambers off too. Fixing your skirt, you wait for him to talk. He doesn’t. “I should probably head back,” you say. You’re not entirely sure why you came to his place instead. You’d assumed when you got on the bike that he’d take you back the Chateau.

“I mean, we can share a joint first if you want. Help you calm down and stuff, after that shitshow,” JJ half-chuckles.

There’s something heavy in the humid air. It’s hard to describe, hard to place, but you can feel it like static electricity. You find yourself nodding. He nods too and starts up to the house, hands in his black short pockets. You watch his feet sink into the grass and guide your eyes up his figure. His shoulders are tense, dressed under a thin t-shirt. He ditches his cap on the kitchen counter when you walk through the door. Through the house, past the neglection, and to his bedroom. He flicks on the light and clears his throat as he goes to his desk drawer.

You stand, leaning against his door until it clicks closed, and look around his room. There’s a world map pinned to the wall but no markings on it asides from one: Kildare, North Carolina. Print outs of palm trees and pressed, framed butterflies and leaves seem less innocent when placed between posters of models on the beach. The floor is a mess of dirty clothes and empty beer cans. Several dead vapes litter near the overflowing bin, and cigarette and joint buds scatter the windowsill and beside table. But the smell of JJ hangs strong in the air; it makes you smile to yourself.

“Alright,” JJ sighs. The desk drawer slams closed and he turns around, holding up a fresh joint and lighter. His initials are scratched into the metal: JJ. He sits on the bed and places the blunt between his lips, flicking at his lighter. You watch him take a drag and take it off him when he offers it over.

No words are shared as you pass the bud for several minutes. You both glance around the room, at the floor, at the ceiling, anywhere but each other.

“How’s your face?”

“Huh?” he asks, finally meeting your eyes.

You nod to his cheek. “Your cut from the other night?”

“Oh, right,” he mumbles. He lifts a finger and strokes it absentmindedly. “It’s alright.”

“Good.”

JJ hands you the joint again, you take a drag, you pass it back to him. That same feeling from earlier, when you first climbed off the bike, has only amplified.

“So…”

You brave clearing the distance between you. You take the spot next to him on the bed.

“We gonna talk about it.”

“What’s there to talk about?” JJ deflects, studying the floor.

“Well, you kissed me,” you eventually reply, taking the joint back. “So, there’s that.”

“I already told you,” he sighs. “I was tired and doped up.”

When you say nothing, he looks up at you. "What? You think I'm lying?"

You take a drag. Shrugging, you honestly reply, “yeah, a little.”

He holds your gaze as if challenging you to back down. You don’t. Beating around the bush won’t help anything here, and its obvious you can’t go back to acting like it didn’t happen. You can’t move past it until you know why he did.

“S’just weird,” JJ mutters, looking away. “What happened last night, with me and you. S’just weird.”

“Yeah, it was weird for me too,” you agree. Swallowing, you take another hit. “But not bad weird, right?”

JJ’s head lifts once more. His eyes flash across your face like he’s searching for some kind of trap. He sucks his teeth in contemplation. “No. Not bad weird.”

Your heart stutters, breathing shaky and unsure. You feel your eyes dart down to his strawberry pink lips, and his to yours. But then he’s shaking his head. “What are we doing?”

“I don’t know…” you breathe. You’re transfixed on his lips. Can’t move away, can’t bring yourself too. The blunt in your fingers is burning away, ash dropping to the floor, but you don’t care. All of it, everything but JJ, is white noise.

The moment you flit your eyes up to his, something shifts in him. His jaw ticks as he clenches it. Your brows pull in thought but there’s no time for you to ask.

“Fuck it.”

His lips are on yours within a breadth. He consumes your senses like a drug, dulling down anything else until all your thoughts are on him. He grabs for the blunt in your fingers, haphazardly putting it on the bedside table, and then his hands are sliding up along your sides, up your back, into your hair. One finds purchase on your cheek, and you rest your jaw in his hold like a bird settled in its favourite branch. The way he holds you like you’re something holy is different to how sinful his kiss is. It’s pure passion: raw, animalistic heat from weeks of build-up. And, God, it feels so right. The way his tongue brushes against yours, warm in your mouth, heavy in your head. The nip of his teeth on your lips and the fanning of his breath when he has to break for air. You’ve never been kissed like this before, not by anyone. It’s dizzying.

Until it isn’t, and he’s pulling away. His forehead rests against your own. You’re both panting. “We shouldn’t be doing this,” he says.

You slide a hand up his neck, tracing his jawline with your fingers. He practically melts under your touch, eyes slipping shut. “I know,” you whisper distractedly. Your thumb traces his lower lip. It’s swollen from your kisses.

He blinks his eyes open. “I’m serious. He can’t know.”

“He won’t,” you say, going to reconnect your lips.

But JJ stops you. “No, he can’t. He’d…God, he just can’t.”

You want to cry, seeing the moral dilemma weigh on JJ, feeling you share the burden. But the thought of walking away from this, of not feeling every inch of him, of never hearing him fall apart, makes you want to sob.

“Maybe just one time,” you murmur. Your finger traces down his chin, along the centre of his neck. “And we can just get it out of our system.”

“Yeah,” JJ mumbles. “Yeah, one time.”

“Yeah?”

You meet his gaze. His pupils are dilated, heavy with lust, and you feel your body ignite. “Touch me, please.”

With that simple mark of consent, JJ’s unchained. He doesn’t hold back when your lips reconnect. Somehow it becomes deeper, rougher, better. It’s such a strange oxymoron, the way he touches you and kisses you. You pull away to remove your crop top, and he takes the moment to strip off his shirt. The two of you are shameless as you take in the other. Reaching out a hand, you run your fingers up his chest in the way that you’ve imagined so many times before. It’s funny how in your head, you’ve already done it. His eyes dip down, watching your hands explore. You lean forward, pressing a kiss to his left pectoral, then his right. Sighing, his chest drops up and down with uneven breathes.

“So pretty,” you say through your kisses.

His fingers tether into your hair. There’s a slight tug that sends ripples of pleasure through your body in ways that it shouldn’t as he pulls you away, guiding your lips back to him. As he crawls atop of you, you inch up the bed, skirt riding up. You settle on our back. JJ’s greedy in his touch. Strokes your skin, explores your body, like it’s his own. And in a way it is because you’d give him anything if he asked. When his fingers slip behind your back, searching for the clasp of your bra, you lift yourself onto your elbows. He holds your gaze as he unfastens it, guiding it off your shoulders, helping it off your arms.

“Fuck,” he sighs.

A smile teases at your lips. It takes a certain type of guy to make you blush at the sound of his curses. Your head rocks back, eyes sinking closed, as his lips latch around your nipple. A hand palms at the skin, teasing your breast, exploring your reactions. You sigh out your pleasure, bringing a hand up to mess with his hair. It’s better than you imagined. Tops every fantasy, every wet dream, every sinful thought. And it’s only just begun.

“So fucking sexy,” JJ groans, kissing up your body until he finds your lips.

You don’t want him away from you. He looms over you, encasing you in the safe, consuming feeling of his presence, trapping you in the smell of his cologne and soap that you’ve tried so desperately to avoid. Through the kisses and love bites marked into necks and collarbones, you feel one of his hands ghost the outline of your figure. Traces down so slowly like you might not even notice. Down, down, to your panties. It’s there that he sweeps over your cotton covered mound. You sigh against his lips in anticipation.

“I know you’ve been thinking ‘bout this,” JJ says.

His voice is just as you pictured it: deep and crooning, his Southern accent at forefront. You want to bottle it like brandy and drink it until you black out. His lips work down your neck as he lightly circles your clit over your panties and you can’t stop your moan.

“I heard you, the other night.” Your eyes shoot open. JJ meets your gaze. He’s dying, the desperation clear as day on his face. His eyes themselves could send him straight to hell. There’s the shadow of a smirk.

“Were you thinking of me, whilst you were getting off?”

You go to push him away. The last thing you need is for him to tease you about it and make fun. But he doesn’t let you. Instead, he kisses just below your ear.

“Cause I think about you. Every night since you’ve been back. Can’t jack off to anything else,” he confesses into the crux of your ear. Your only reply is a small, surprised gasp. Your body’s ablaze with his words.

His fingers finally dip below your panties, sliding between your soaking folds. He groans at the sensation and you feel your legs give way. He works at you for a while, toying with you like it’s a side hobby. You’re only half aware of the sounds you make. One of your hands has situated itself on his upper back, nails scratching at the skin. JJ can’t seem to keep his mouth shut. It’s one blasphemy after another, and it drives you deeper and deeper into the abyss. He seems to become impatient. He removes fingers to push your underwear down. You kick them off at the ankles with a small giggle.

The moment his finger sinks into you, you swear you’ve seen heaven. JJ worships you, taking his time to inch you closer and closer to the edge. Another finger, then another. The stretch is heaven. Your back arches off the bed, mouth agape, brain dumb with pleasure. He won’t be quiet. He whispers praises into your ear. Narrates his own fantasies he’s harboured about you. Know you’ve been teasing me with those tiny bikinis. I wish I fucked you on the porch the other night. The moment his thumb swipes over your clit, you know you’re close. And then he’s bending his fingers just slightly, hitting that spot. You abandon all religion: this is the only type of prayer you need.

JJ has the audacity to laugh as you climax. You grasp uselessly at his body, the bedsheets, anything. You use a shaky hand to push his fingers away, overstimulated, and he finally relents. Starts kissing at your neck like a Goddamn vampire.

“That good, huh?”

You can’t really formulate words. You just drag his face to yours, kissing him senseless. When you inevitably part for breath, JJ leans back. He pinches your chin between two fingers, gnawing at his lower lip, and parts your lips for him. Your body pulses at the submissiveness he’s placed you under. Then his used fingers are slipped into your mouth. You close your lips around them, holding his gaze as you suck them clean. The salty distinct taste is unfamiliar but not necessarily unpleasant. He gives a small laugh, like he’s in disbelief.

“Fuck. Why did we wait so long to do this?”

You pull his hand free, taking grip on his shoulders. Pushing him against his bedroom wall, you move to straddle him. His hands fall onto your hips. Somewhere in your heady make-out, you rock yourself back on him. JJ groans; his head knocks back against the wall. He’s rock hard. It must be torture. You shuffle off him to make room to pull his shorts off. They join the mess of clothes on the floor. The tip leaks precum, straining painfully. You go to jack him off but JJ stops you.

“I won’t last,” he admits, half-embarrassed.

You nod, biting back your smile. “You got protection?”

“Top drawer,” he says, nodding to the bedside table.

You lean over and dig about before finding a condom. You come back, tear it open, and gently slide it over him. He lets out a shuddering breath at your touch, eyes clenched shut in concentration. It makes you feel slightly guilty for letting him indulge you for so long, but this will pay it back.

Straddling him once more, you steady yourself with one hand on either shoulder. His find home on your hips once more, and he helps you line up. Then you slowly sink down onto him. The stretch stings despite the earlier efforts. Head hanging forward, mouth falling open in silent moans, eyes clenching shut, you take him in. JJ’s mumbling praises, eyes transfixed on where you connect, spurring you on. Taking me so good. Jus’little more. You rock against him, using whatever energy you have to ride him. He helps guide you, head resting against the wall. You love that he isn’t quiet. Love that you’re on top and can see every ripple of pleasure course through him, reflect on his face. But when his eyes slip shut, you take a hand and guide his face to yours. Pressing your forehead against him, you lean forward and steady yourself with a hand on his chest. The new angle is euphoric. You moan and whine against his lips, eyes staring into his own. It’s the most hideously lewd symphony as the two of you chase your highs. There’s only one thought in your mind. And when JJ comes unannounced, shuddering as he finishes, never looking away from your eyes, only one thought is in your mind.

If it can only happen this once, it has to be perfect...

to be continued (part 2 will be released later this week)

[hisui-dreamer]

Characters: Riddle Rosehearts, Ace Trappola, Deuce Spade, Cater Diamond, Trey Clover, Leona Kingscholar, Jack Howl, Ruggie Bucchi, Azul Ashengrotto, Jade Leech, Floyd Leech, Kalim Al-Asim, Jamil Viper, Vil Schoenheit, Epel Felmier, Rook Hunt, Idia Shroud, Silver, Sebek Zigvolt, Lilia Vanrouge

Notes: pick your fav from above when you read this hehe

Masterlist

imagine transmigrating as yuu in twisted wonderland, waking up in your favourite game with the fictional love of your life standing, breathing, alive right in front of you, not so fictional anymore.

every day is like a new adventure, you try your hardest to get his attention, trying to woo him in any way possible, striking up conversation, joining him in his hobbies, or just simply staring at him in fondness from across the room.

he's flattered, immensely, but it's also slightly overwhelming for him. it's not every day someone you barely know puts so much attention on you. he can't quite understand it, you don't give him a very good reason why you'd have such feelings for him, and of course, he wouldn't know how hearing his voice in the morning would give you the energy to make it through the day, how you emptied your wallets just so you could have his cards, how you longed to feel warmth in his arms in those lonesome moments. you don't expect him to understand your intense admiration for him, but it still pricks your heart when he puts up barriers between the two of you, when he turns down your advances or turns away from you.

still, you persist in your efforts. your feelings for him would never change, but you do try toning your advances down. you keep your fangirling more hidden, putting up polite smiles and nods when you pass by him in hallways, even though your heart would be thumping so loudly you almost couldn't hear him.

slowly, but surely, he starts seeing you as a friend, and maybe even something more. there's something irresistible about someone who always stands by your side, whether or not his actions were right or not, you'd be there to offer him support, cheering him on in whatever his goals were.

he decided you were growing on him, but he still couldn't fully trust you.

but then came the overblot battle. you knew it would happen, you tried to stop things from going out of hand but there's very little a magicless prefect can do to stop teenage boys from provoking each other until someone's untapped trauma gets unleashed. it's different than the games, it's not just tapping characters on a screen to fight, you're standing there next to everyone, next to him, feeling the overblot air weighing down on your body, the overblots attacks are unpredictable and you keep having to dodge at the last minute.

and when you see an attack going towards him, you don't even think about yourself, your body moving on its own to shield him from the incoming blow because you want nothing more than for him to be safe.

you feel the sharp pain in your head, you feel yourself falling, then cradled by strong arms. the pain is mind-splitting, and you barely manage to open your eyes to see if he's injured

his pupils are dilated, worry written all over his face, but he seems unscathed

"you're okay..."

you find some comfort in that fact, and everything fades to black

he can't believe he even doubted you for a second. how could he not realise you were genuinely attracted to him? to the extent that you, defenceless and inexperienced in magic, would shield him from the attack?

when the overblot ends, he takes you to the infirmary as soon as possible. he nurses you, visits you every day, bringing you flowers and such hoping you'd recover soon. he promises himself he'd be truthful this time, he'd treasure you and be there for you just like you were for him.

he never expects the words that come out of your mouth when you wake up.

"...who are you?"

you had forgotten the one person who was the object of your affection.

[rnakamura22]

When they heard that you found your way home

Random　Characters

Prefect is female! Yandere vibes! Her name is Yu!

Malleus　Dragonia

Oh, Don't mind the sky getting pitch-black and thunder striking down rapidly! What? Flying classes got canceled? You saw Jack and Epel were totally soaked? Where are you even looking? Another man? That’s unacceptable!

You’re his first friend and crush! To him, you are like the first sunshine of spring! A beautiful blue butterfly in the meadow flying above the flowers! A gem more precious than any treasure he has! And now you’re just dumping him? Nuh-uh. Ain’t gonna happen! He’s one of the most powerful magicians in the world, so it takes no more than a flip of his hand to crush any form of way back home. He could lock you up in his room, mess with your body, destroy any form of mirror, etc. Hey, this was gonna happen one way or another since he already decided for the future Queen of the valley long ago(AKA when he met you).While he locks you up in his Diasomnia room, he could happily come and discuss the wedding plans. He already decided on the crown by the way, but he made a promise to discuss the dress colors with you since taking your opinion into account is necessary. Lila would be teary eyed of Malleus’s growth. You have no choice to accept your fate since even if you escape, he will come searching for you. After all, can a mere human win against a loving dragon?

Lilia Vanrouge

This 700 year old vampire fairy has more knowledge and experience than any of the villains. He thought his love ended with Malleus’s mom. But then, you came along. A cute little innocent human who only lived about a little percentage of his life! You are like a baby! You’re too young to survive out there! What if your way back home never worked! What if some thing got messed up? No, you need to be in the world safe and sound! He will protect you! He still has feelings about the age gap though. I mean, what happens in family day at school with your future children? Well, not to worry! As for making you stay, just break a few mirrors or take out any bad memories! He needs to look out for his juniors after all! He won’t break you, but he will punish you if you disobey. Fairies are possessive. Blame your own luck for shooting the heart of the vampire fairy.

Rook Hunt

At first, he seems happy for you! A lost deer should run back to her herd as quick as possible. But you forgot he’s a hunter. And a skilled hunter like him NEVER fails.

He casts his unique magic on you as you are about to leave. A part of him wishes for your happiness, but he couldn’t help it. A large part of him couldn’t forgive you. The most valuable prey were about to outrun him. He could never accept that. His magic will find you. Wherever you go, however you try to escape, the chase continues. Until you give up your world and return with him, they would be absolutely no peace.

Epel Felmier

(Anyone else love peel’s smug VILLAN faces from the ghost bride?)

Epel acts happy but inside, he’s devastated. He wanted to visit his home village again just the two of you. He knows he’s got competition when it came to you, and it was all for nothing. Well, he ain’t admitting that, that’s for sure.

From that day on, with the help of Vill and Rook, he creates a special gift for you. An apple red as the roses. A glittering poison apple just like the Beautiful Queen of his dorm created. To trap you, his one and only Snow White. He still wants to have fun with you and the first years. He wants to graduate with you. You gave him courage, and made him happy. He wants to return you with his own thankful emotions. #Yeah, Right.

On the day you were going to leave, he comes up to you and thanks you, than he says the magic words.

“Prefect…I want to give you something. Please have a bite. It’s a special apple I picked. It’s the most delicious apple I harvested and the most beautiful one! I cared for it so much!”

Epel now understands what Vil said for so long. His cuteness can become a weapon. Look at your eyes! You melt for his cuteness, and bites the apple without thinking twice, I mean, who can resist his cuteness. Instantly, you fall unconscious.

“Whoah!? That was close… but now you can be with us forever Yu! Snow White won’t hold a candle to you…. Let’s graduate together Ok? And we can be together forever…”

He’s a poisoned apple, what would you except? As the saying goes, looks can be deceiving.

Sebek Zigvolt

Ah, he says like 90% of the time about how fairies are better than humans, but for you, it’s an exception. He might not show it, but he cares a lot about you. He’s a tsundere after all.(No, you cannnot tell me otherwise) But he blames you for dumping him and making him feel bad.(AKA you two are not dating)

“This is your own fault human, you made me fall to your schemes and now you’re throwing it all away? Unacceptable!”

He may not show it, but he enjoyed school life with you and the other humans of his grade. He wants to live with you at the valley of Thorns. But your comment of going back to your world snaps something.

Better run away because lightning bolts are coming down in 10 seconds to smash that mirror. He will not let you go. And is you disobey…say goodbye to your eardrums and your freedom.

Silver

(Anyone else love this Silver’s face? I believe Silver can be a villain too, you won’t change my mind)

He is SHOCKED with a capital S. He’s a human, but raised by Lilia and fairies so he has fairy values and they may be SLIGHTLY different from humans especially about love.

He wants to be with you after graduation. He already planned a few preparations so you won’t be getting away.

Before you go, he casts his unique magic on you to appear in your dreams as a dashing prince. Saving you, chasing you, maybe choking you a little bit. Don’t worry, it won’t hurt. Convincing that your world is horrible and terrible, and you should come back to Twisted Wonderland and live with him. Silver is a prince, and you are his princess. To him, the bad witch is your world. After all, he needs to defeat the bad witch to save his one and only princess. Than he can live happily ever after.

[driaswrld]

🪷 — THE SCANDAL OF THE CHILDHOOD CONSORT. . . UNRELEASED PUBLICATION 01 !

LADY DRIA WRITES . . . ˚ ༘ *

🪷 dearest gentle reader, this author has stumbled upon a shockingly salacious tale in the dark corridors of the gojo palace... 2.3k words.

🪷 prince gojo x reader smut!! pure smut not tied into main plot, only an alternate of current storyline. fem reader, cunnilingus, creampie, yk the gist guys (also my first full smut piece 😵‍💫) for all the prince toru girlies who got their hearts SHATTERED </3

🪷 taglist : @yunymphs @prttyangelz @jaerang @rayahayumi @kurosaaki @ayanominitrash @lordbugs @xxemmarldxx @ltadoriyuujl @gods-landing @sabrinexx @aphroditisxc @sweeteaas @nikitopia @konekobby @loafgeto @/hanatoru

series mlist. prev. chapter

CHAPTER TWO (B) . . .˚ ༘ *

GRAPE FLAVORED : LACE EDITION.

Satoru dips his head in a swift motion, his mouth planting a ghost of a kiss to the corner of your lips, and his dimples deepen when your head moves forward to chase his taste, something you’ve never had but crave with every inch of your being.

“Satoru.” You whisper, desperate. He hates himself for wanting this so bad.

He doesn't make you wait long as he presses his lips to yours, it's rough, hungry — he sighs into your mouth, shoulders drooping like he’s finally found what he's been searching for all his life on your tongue.

He’s kissed you before, on the cheek, side of your neck, corner of your mouth — tasted the salty tears of your youth, licked his lips and drank in the remnants of your flavored lipgloss.

He was too young then, too foolish, too afraid to want more.

Satoru’s tongue slips past your parted lips, teeth on wet pink muscle and a shiver runs down his spine when he tastes you, truly tastes you for the first time.

Grape flavored and starving.

A guttural groan leaves his throat when you reach a hand out to tug at the front of his pants to pull him closer. The crowned prince’s knees buckle, digging deeper into the floor beneath him.

Do you even know all the ways a woman can be seduced?

“There's so much I could teach you,” his arms hook under your knees the moment your tongue tangles with his, free hand shifting the skirts of your dress and searching like a man on a treasure hunt. “So much you could learn, pretty.”

“Teach me,” you plead, lips wet and chest already heaving.

Satoru murmurs a sound of disapproval against your neck, his tongue sucking the skin at the collar of your throat. “Not yet, have’ta give you a gift of my own first.”

( so he is jealous then ? )

Your thighs shiver when his cold hands snake under your dress, your arms looping around his neck to tug him closer to your body.

“Why do they put you in so many layers— s-shit.” His complaints falter when his palm cups the lace adorning your heat.

Satoru Gojo isn't a pious man, but this must be a gift from God.

“You're too fucking good.” Satoru groans, scooting back on his knees to hike up the layers of your dress.

He has to see the color of your panties. Has to see the lace design he knows is strewn across your pretty pussy— because you're a lace girl, never silk, Suguru doesn't know you, hasn't known you the way Satoru has.

It's vulgar.

“Satoru, waitwait—!” Falls on deaf ears, because he’s already hooking his thumbs under the waistband of your lacy panties, pulling the fabric to stretch, playing with it as your folds slick up, a wet patch forming.

He toys with the edges of the lace, pulls and pulls until he lets it snap back against your front, his breathing going ragged with each sharp inhale you take.

He likes playing with you like this.

“Look at that.” Satoru pulls your panties to the side, your cunt clenching around nothing. “Pretty girl ‘s crying for me. . .” He spreads your folds with his index and middle, his cock straining against his pants, begging for relief.

“Don't just look at it like that— you're odd!”

“Yeah?” he chuckles, rubbing his thumb over your pulsing clit, flicking the bud teasingly. “Don't break my heart, princess.”

There's an undertone to his words as he sinks two fingers into your weeping whole, pumping against spots you couldn't reach with your own.

Satoru bullies his fingers into you, searching endlessly for something he thinks he’ll never find.

tell me no one’s touched you like this, tell me it's only me, tell me it’s not him—

Your hips rise to rock against his fingers and he stifles a laugh, almost bitterly. He knows better, but you're as better as the best gets.

“Hold this f’me, yeah?” Before you can question it, the skirts of your dress are bunched into your lap as Satoru’s head dips between your thighs.

“Fuck—” your mouth goes agape as his tongue licks a fat stripe up your folds, his fingers scissoring and stretching you open in time with his licks, tongue flattening and curling and flattening and curling. “How do you even—”

how many girls have you kissed like this?

Satoru mumbles something against your clit that you don't hear, but it vibrates through your core as his tongue slips into your hole, eagerly fucking you and sucking up your juices.

Now this is a royal scandal.

“Tastes just as sweet as I knew it would,” he moans, grinding his hips against the foot of the sofa, using his other arm to push against your knee, spreading you wider for better access. “Would go to war for this pussy, baby.”

Your head spins.

You knew of Satoru's. . . appetites as a Prince.

But experiencing it firsthand? Every lap of his tongue at your entrance, every stretch of his fingers has you seeing stars.

“‘Toru—! mmph, too much,” Your hips buck against his mouth, your head falling back against the window.

The night air doesn't help cool your skin with how hot your entire body feels.

“Too much?” Satoru repeats, mockingly. His cheeks hollow as he curls his fingers, pressing against that spongy spot that has your hips quivering, lips suckling your bundle of nerves. “C’mon, you cryin?”

“M’ not— not crying. . .” You sob, thighs squeezing around his head. He slides his fingers out of you, using both hands to hike your legs over his shoulders. “So good, it's so good.”

You feel him grin against your cunt as he dives back in, his tongue and fingers tag teaming between abusing your clit in harsh circles and thrusting into your drooling hole.

He’s getting off to the praise, his hips pressed firm against the sofa as he whines against you, your ankles crossed between his shoulder blades, heels digging into his back. “Can't get enough of you.”

“Please, wan’ta cum—” Tears escape the corner of your eyes, your thighs trembling and walls convulsing around his fingers. “Gonna cum— mhm, stopstop—!”

Satoru groans against your cunt when your back arches and your hips drive against his face like a woman possessed, his nose brushing your clit just right as your high hits you hard.

“I’ll replace these.” Satoru rasps, pulling away from you with a soft squelch.

“Replace? What do you—” You can't see the expression on his face with how his head’s hidden under your dress, but your heart pounds in your chest when his fingers wrap around one of your ankles in a soft caress.

The realization hits you then, as the liquid cools and fabric sticks to the inside of your thigh.

He’s talking about your panties.

“Lace is so pretty on you,” he murmurs, fiddling with the buttons of his pants, careless to his haphazard movements as his cock springs free, curved at an angle and beading with precum at the tip. “You don't know what you do to me, I swear.”

Lace.

Like the glove you gifted him your favor with.

Your face floods with heat when he flips the rest of your dress up, your gaze never leaving his hardened cock, the way it looks so angry at you.

It comes to you then as he looks up at you, snowy hair matted, nose to chin glistening with your slick and eyes hung low.

Prince Satoru, your childhood bestfriend, just ate you out.

And he's about to fuck you.

Satoru grasps both your ankles, letting his grip trail down to your thighs as he rises to his feet.

“You're a lady. A Princess— fuck,” Your hand reaches down to wrap your fist around his hot length, and it jolts to your touch.

You deserve better, he wants to say. Better than having your legs spread open for him in a dark corridor.

“Forgive me.” Satoru pushes your thighs down to meet your chest, effectively folding your body in half for him.

i'm sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry — i love you, i’m jealous.

And you whine, your arousal dripping down your thighs, still not fully recovered from your first high. “I'm gonna fuck you like anything but a lady.” His hot length bucks forward through your fist to bump against your folds and you bite your lip at the sensation.

He’s painfully hard and spilling precum, slipping back and forth across your pussy lips.

“Let me in, princess, please, I need you.” You pump his length in a few languid strokes and he shudders as you guide his cock to prod at your entrance. “I’ll fucking die if I don't—”

With bated breath and barely any restraint, Satoru rocks his hips forward, his tip sinking between your puffy folds and popping in.

“Pretty girl.” He moans, pushing forward until he's buried to the hilt, his cock curving to prod against your insides, deep.

“Satoru—” You gasp, your walls clenching at the penetration and his brows dip as he leans over your body, kissing the side of your neck. “I know, baby. . . fuck, squeezing me so tight—”

“C-can't help it,” you whimper as he rolls his hips forward, slow at first, so you feel every inch of him filling you up, like you were hollow before this.

Satoru lets out a sharp whine, almost girlish when he picks up the pace, fucking himself into you with deep slams, one hand leaving your thigh to tug at the front of your dress, using it as grip to fuck you rougher.

It's desperate.

“Hear that?” He whispers against your skin, each pump of his hips has his balls slapping against your ass in loud wet smacks, your cunt squelching around his cock, all sensitive and gushing for him, just like he imagined.

“We're kissing down there, pretty.” He chuckles breathily.

You’d scold him but you chuckle between a moan, his hips jerking forward harshly at how your pussy squeezes him in just from that. “I-it’s so hot—”

“Sucking me in— so needy,” he grunts, slipping his other hand between you to roll your sensitive bud under his thumb. “So loud and filthy, knew you wanted this as much as I did, baby. Wanted me to fuck you like this for so long, hm?”

“Satoru!” Your back arches off the sofa as you bite back a sob, your hips rocking to meet each of his thrusts. “Wanted it— wanted you so bad.”

“Who’s making you feel so good, huh?” Satoru pants, pressing his weight down onto your body, caging you under him as his thrusts become borderline feral, the top of your dress beginning to rip from the strength of his grip. “Say it, shit, say it—”

tell me it's me and not him. tell me only i can make you feel this good.

“Y-you,” you choke out, your lungs burning as you try to catch your breath.

Satoru slows his thrusts to a grind, unsatisfied with your answer, fucking you shallow and drawing it out, his tip pressing against your sweet spots making you see white.

“Princess,” he grunts in warning, applying more pressure to your clit, your body writhing beneath him. “Don't tell me that pretty little head ‘s all fuzzy now.”

“‘Toru, please—” Your palms push at Satoru’s chest, nails digging into his shirt, the coil in your core wound tight and teetering at the edge, but he won't push it past the edge. Not yet. “It's you, my Prince— ‘s you, Satoru!”

Your Prince.

You barely get the last syllable out before he’s bullying his cock into you in harsh strokes, the sweet plap plap plap of his body against yours is drowned out by all the things he whispers in your ear, only me, nobody else, you’re mine, gonna fuck you full so you won't forget.

“Wanna cum, ‘toru,” you cry and he bites down on your shoulder, as he exchanges his grip on your thighs for your your hips, pulling you onto him as he fucks into you with reckless abandon, sweat collecting at his brow.

“Yeah? Gonna cum for me?” Satoru presses his mouth against yours in a disoriented kiss, moaning into your mouth as your walls convulse around him, his cock twitching and swelling inside you. “Cum all over my cock baby, make your Prince a mess.”

Your hips move on their own, your body flushing with pleasure and the coil inside your belly snapping, giving way to your second high.

Your legs wrap around Satoru’s waist, pulling him impossibly deeper into you while you climax, his own breathing going short.

“T-tight, fuck, gonna make me cum—” Satoru lets go of your hips and reaches for your hands, interlacing them with his above your head, his thrusts growing sloppy as he gets closer.

“Look at me, yeah, look at me when you make me cum. Look at what you do to me, pretty.”

Satoru pushes his body flush against yours as his cock twitches, his hips stuttering and nose pressed against yours, mouth open with a loud moan when he unloads, spilling himself inside you in thick spurts.

He hugs you close to his body with a few soft thrusts, fucking his cum deeper into you with broken whines, his body slumped atop yours as he rides out the rest of your highs, the air cooling and settling.

“Think I got carried away,” Satoru whispers, pressing gentle kisses across your face, and a chaste one to your lips as he catches his breath, cheeks flushed pink.

“You think?” You pant, biting back a laugh, to which he buries his face in your neck. “We need to go—”

“Don't feel like it,” he mumbles, nuzzling close to you, and your eyes flit to the window, taking in the stars.

You bring a hand up to card through his hair, and he sighs at the feeling.

“But, the ball—” You try to protest, but he cuts you off by squeezing you close to him, impossibly close. “And the grape juice—”

“I’ll replace the dress too.” Satoru whispers. “Nothing else matters— just a little longer.”

You feel him smile into your neck and you roll your eyes, laying your head back with an exasperated sigh of your own.

“Just a little longer, then.”

[gamergirl-niffler]

I could use some comforting, you know? Can I ask for Kyōjurō, Sanemi, Muzan and Gyutaro with a girlfriend who lost their sight in battle (for slayers - in the battle against Muzan; for demons - in the battle against demon slayers)

Ohhh sweetie! I did my best, I hope you'll like what I did!

Demon Slayer men & demons x blinded s/o

Sanemi 

- Everyone sees Sanemi as a cold man. The one that doesn't really care about anyone else, but he does care about you. 

- This soft side is a secret, available only for you (and his little brother, sometimes) to witness.

-  He visits you every day if he only can. When he needs to leave for more than a day, he not only informs you, but also asks (better word would be orders) Genya to visit you to 'fill in' for him.

-  When he is with you, Sanemi is a completely different man. He isn't the same Shinazugawa that everyone knows.

- Sanemi can of course help you around. He is cleaning and cooking for you, making sure you are as comfortable as possible.

- His favorite part is when the two of you sit on the egawa and enjoy the beautiful day.

- This can't be more perfect. He is holding you close in a tight embrace while talking.

- Sanemi loves you deeply, but there is one thing he will never tell you. He blames himself for your sight loss, it's his fault your beautiful eyes lost the shine and color because he wasn't there to protect you.

- You always seem to feel when he slips into those thoughts. Your one hand grabs his while the other moves back into his hair.

- Your touch brings him back to the right place. You are still with him. That's the most important.

- He is going to fucking rip apart the demon that did this to you.

Kyojuro

- Kyojuro is a good and affectional man. 

- He remembers his dear mother and how much help she needed, so he is here to deliver and assist you.

- Similar to Sanemi, he visits you with Senjuro or asks him to visit you whenever he himself isn't available.

- Every day Kyojuro is taking you for a walk, describing what he sees. Whenever he sees a dog or cat, he calls them over just so you can pet them.

- He loves to eat with you. Kyo is sitting close when the two of you enjoy the meal, talking about all the flavors.

- Kyojuro isn't feeding you. You aren't a child, you can eat on your own, BUT he is there just in case.

-  Since losing your sight, you cannot enjoy a good book. Thankfully, your sweet boyfriend is there. Kyojuro finds a comfortable spot for the two of you to sit and then starts to read for you.

- Of course it's not just reading, he is doing the best job possible. He is even making funny voices if needed.

- When you doze off on his shoulder, he chuckles softly. After putting the book away, he moves you to your bed.

- Kyojuro tucks you in and stays by your side, just in case you suddenly wake up. He doesn't want you to feel sad and/or scared when he isn't next to you.

- Revenge isn't a good thing, but Kyojuro will deliver it to the demon that harmed you.

Gyutaro

- He is angry.

- Some pathetic slayer dared to put his filthy hands on his beloved.

- Because of the cursed blade slayers carry around, you cannot heal.

- How could they hurt his treasure! 

- Gyutaro in some way sees it in a good way - with your eyes gone, you don't need to look at his ugly body. He even tells you this at some point

- You scold him for this.

- You are so precious to him that you aren't allowed to leave his side.

- Of course Gyutaro is taking care of you as much as he needs to.

- While hunting, he shares his food with you.

- He doesn't want you to starve, and he is hoping that once you get strong enough, you'll be able to regenerate or change your body to regain your sight.

- Gyutaro isn't into cuddles, but things like this... But for you, he is ready to do this, just to make you happy.

- While he cuddles you, he is telling you everything he loves about you, and you do the same for him, making him groan.

- He makes sure that the slayer who crippled you is eaten by you and him.

Muzan

- The Demon King is furious!

- Slayer who dared to deprive you of your sight did not live to see another sunrise.

- He just gained one more reason to get rid of the slayers. No one cripples his beloved.

- Upper Moons as well as other pathetic demons are sent out to hunt down each member of the corps. He will feed them all to you!

- You are his special demon with even more special treatment.

- Your Demon King loves to cuddle you and keep you close. Afterall you are his treasure, he doesn't want to ever let you go, especially now.

- No Demon is allowed to disrespect you or look down on you. It means death.

- Muzan makes sure you never go hungry. How could he?

- He is working on his research, and you are there, listening to his voice and adding your own thoughts or ideas.

- Behind your back, he is working on a way to bring your sight back. He is ready to do everything he can to help you.

[cerys-scribbles]

sweet on the tongue

Halsin x f!Reader A bit of fluff and yearning Wordcount: 1.5k

You always looked over the abandoned wagons and backpacks. 

It was an old habit, born of a time when coin was scarce. You’ve always had an eye for shiny things - the gleam of jewelry, the graceful curve of a gem, and the glitter of a bottle. You never knew when you might find a small treasure.

Some of the others mocked you for it. Astarion, in particular, seemed to enjoy the sight of you rummaging through crates. “Your pack is so full you’ll have to find a rothe to carry it,” he called, that crooked grin tugging at his mouth. 

“I can carry my own pack,” you replied, with a dismissive wave. “And what do you care?”

“Merely concerned for your posture, darling. If you become a hunched over crone in your thirties, it would be a tragedy.” 

You snorted. “That’s rich, coming from the one with the outdated vocabulary and the white hair.”

He placed a hand over his heart in mock indignation. “It’s not white, it’s silver.”

“Children,” called Gale. “You’re going to get left behind if you dawdle.”

The others had continued on. The path wound through the mountains, toward the Githyanki creche. Lae’zel was far ahead, her long strides carrying her forward with a grim determination. It was no wonder she was eager; the prospect of ridding yourself of the tadpole was an intriguing one. But even so, you felt the pull to pick through every crate. 

Your diligence was rewarded when you found a gleam of gold tucked within a sack. You pulled it free. It was a jar.

“Come on!” called Astarion, and you hastily shoved the jar into your own pack. You would look at it more closely later. 

*

It was hours after, once camp had been set up, that you investigated your finds. You picked through the small trinkets, sorting through which ones could be sold and which ones discarded. You were so single-minded that you didn’t notice the smells of food or call to dinner. It was only when someone stood over you that you looked up. 

Halsin towered over you. The sunset gave his hair a golden cast, and he was smiling. “You’ve been busy,” he said mildly.

You sat back, only now feeling the ache in your lower back. “Oh. I was distracted.” You gestured at the piles of trinkets, feeling mildly embarrassed. Would he think it was silly? “Did I miss dinner?”

“I set some aside for you.” Halsin put the plate down on a fallen log. It looked like a surprisingly tasty stew. “It’s a little cold.” 

“I don’t mind,” you said. “Thanks for bringing it.” It shouldn’t have surprised you that Halsin was the one to notice you weren’t eating; he was observant in camp, quiet and watchful. His tent was pitched along the outskirts. Part of you wondered if it was because he wished to remain near nature or to make himself the first line of defense should anyone attack camp. It was likely both. 

He squatted down, eyeing your finds. “May I ask what it is you’re doing?” He reached out, gently sifting through the knotted chains and one half of an earring.

You flushed. “I just… you might have noticed I tend to pick things up.”

“I had noticed, yes,” he said, a touch of dry humor in his voice. But there was no mockery to it. “Do you sell them?” 

You shrugged. “It helps. I can buy a little food, maybe weapons or medicine for camp. We can hunt, of course, but we still need things. And it’s not as though we have a noble patron.” You snorted. “Well, we do have Wyll, but I know he’d protest that title.”

“He would,” agreed Halsin. “He seems far more happy being the Blade of Frontiers rather than a duke’s son.” He tilted his head, gaze flicking over the assortment of trinkets. “Can I help?”

“I mean,” you said, “you don’t have to.”

“I want to.” His gaze met yours and you felt another flush rise to your cheeks. “It’s better to have something to do with one’s hands.”

You both began to work, untangling chains of necklaces and sorting through your findings. There were coins from several cities, jewelry that was junk and one piece that might sell, along with forgotten letters. You set those aside. “I’ll give them to a messenger or the like if we reach Baldur’s Gate,” you said, when you caught Halsin’s eye. “Maybe those letters will reach their destination.”

“That’s kind of you, to carry them without any hope of reward.” 

You gave him a little shrug. “It’s not as though they weigh very much.”

“Still,” he said. “You have a good heart.”

Your cheeks burned even hotter. Halsin disarmed you in a way that none of the other companions could. There were no deceptions, no games to played, no secrets to ferret out. Halsin was simply… Halsin. He was undemanding and kind. 

And all right. He was gorgeous—you’d admit that to yourself. You’d had a few fantasies of him picking you up and kissing you, but you tried to tamp them down. You didn’t want your desires to leak into your conversations and make him uncomfortable. You were friends and that was more than enough.

Finally, you pulled out the jar. You had almost forgotten about it. “What is that?” asked Halsin. 

You held it up to the fading sunlight. “Preserves, I think. Whether or not they’re edible… well, I’m not sure how we find out.”

Halsin chuckled. “Opening it would be the first step.”

It took a knife and a fair bit of prying to get the jar open, but the moment you did, your mouth watered. 

Raspberries floated in a thick, golden liquid. They had been preserved in honey. The sweet scent floated out of the jar and you swallowed. 

“Well, well,” said Halsin. “A pleasing find, if my opinion matters.”

You remembered what he had said when you tried to get to know him better: that he enjoyed sweet things. “You can have it,” you said, holding out the jar. 

He shook his head, a smile on his lips. “We’ll share it.”

You didn’t have a spoon, but Halsin had a few carved ones in his pack. He unearthed it and you gasped. It was intricate and beautiful—a woven pattern made up the handle. “It’s gorgeous.” You knew he whittled, but this was a work of art.

He looked pleased but embarrassed. “I’ve had much practice. It’s yours, if you like it.”

You dipped the spoon into the honeyed raspberries. Then you popped the spoon into your mouth. Tart sweetness spilled across your tongue. You closed your eyes and moaned softly. Perhaps you should have found a loaf of bread or something else to cut the cloying sweetness, but you did not care. It had been weeks since you enjoyed anything so luxurious. 

 “Oh, it’s amazing,” you said, holding out the jar to Halsin. “Try some.”

His gaze was not on the jar—but on you. “You have some,” he said quietly, holding out his hand. “May I?”

You didn’t know what you were agreeing to, but even so you nodded. You trusted him. 

His thumb—warm and callused—slid across your chin. A small tendril of honey had stuck there. “Oh,” you said, laughing a little. “That’s embarrassing.”

“Not at all.” He licked the honey from his thumb—and you could have sworn his pupils dilated as he looked at you. “It tastes all the sweeter.”

Heat churned in your stomach. You knew you should break that gaze, look away before this became all too intimate, but you didn’t want to. Your breaths quickened, and you thought you saw his gaze fall to your mouth. Was he going to kiss you? At once, your lips ached for it. You needed his touch more than you needed air or warmth or even a cure. 

His fingers brushed your cheek. But before he could utter a word, a voice rang out from across camp. 

“I can see you eating something over there!” called Astarion. “If you get sick from fare you found along the road, I am not carrying your pack.”

The mood was broken in an instant. You looked down, half-wondering if you had imagined the moment. 

“You won’t have to,” called Halsin sounding as good-natured as ever. “I’ll carry it for her.”

You swallowed. Perhaps you hadn’t imagined it, after all. 

End

[thegnomelord]

I have had a thought.

What if dragons purr when you rub their horns..

Dragon!Price x Gaz and/or Nikolai,,,

Hehdhehehe

Hmmm, I don't usually write character x character but i'll give it a try so tell me if this sucks lol

CW: SFW, Price x Gaz, horn rubbing, purring, monster cod au, soft short and sweet. 1224 words. Cross posted to Ao3

Kyle is a good soldier. Strong. Competent. Reliable. Though the fears of losing him on every mission still linger, they're eased by the fact that Price never has to worry that his sergeant will stumble in those crucial moments when a second of hesitation can be the difference between life and death. Never has to worry that his Gaz will think of himself as expendable and rush into the hailstorm of bullets. . .

Kyle is also a menace.

Especially when he's perched on his desk and giving John the most pathetic puppy dog eyes he's ever seen. "Please, captain, just one time?" The imp of a harpy even has the gall to flutter his eyes, looking at him through his lashes because he knows how the light of the setting sun hits his eyes juuuust right to make the brown glitter like gold and amber jewels.

"Kyle." Price stresses. This really isn't the time to indulge his sergeant's need for mischief when he's got a week's worth of backlogged paperwork to go through.

"Sir." Kyle throws his tone back at him, but the way the word rolls off his tongue and he adds the smallest chirp to the end of it makes something inside him stir. "Come on mate, I promise it'll only take five minutes." Kyle's wings spread out so he can display the shininess of his feathers - peacocking transcends species it seems - the mundane dark color turned to that of rich obsidian by the sun.

"It never takes just 'five minutes'." He tries to argue, but the usual commanding rumble in his voice is gone. Price knows he's fighting a losing battle from the way his fingers itch for him to burry them into the smooth feathers and preen Kyle's wings until his treasure croons.

Kyle knows this. He's unable to hide the arrogant look in his eyes when he bites his bottom lip and leans back, muscles tensing, because he knows how such a display of his body will make John's eyes automatically roam across his hard earned muscles. "Pretty please." Kyle says, tail feathers gently twitching side to side.

Both of them know Price never stood a chance.

"That was dirty." John sighs, dejected by his own weakness. The distance between them is small, but Price purposely takes slow steps. Kyle eagerly scoots back on the desk and spreads his legs for John to fit between, hands raising to hold his biceps as Price braces his palms against the desk next to Kyle's hips.

Kyle snorts. "As if you've never stooped lower cap." He spreads his wings to wrap around Price, soft feathered wing wrists bumping against his back.

John just growls lowly in response. He doesn't resist his body's natural desire to reciprocate, to reaffirm the claim over his hoard. The atrophied muscles on his right side still ache with phantom pain after all this time, but that doesn't stop him from wrapping his one remaining wing around Kyle. The combination of their wings acts as a shroud from the rest of the world, soft feathers brushing against his green scales and their scents mixing together.

Price treasures these little moments.

The peace only lasts for a few seconds before Kyle ruins it with a grin. "Now come on, give me your horns." He says, not even bothering for Price to tilt his head before Kyle's clever fingers rise up his arms to cup his face, inching closer to where his horns grow out of his skull.

Price promises to himself to hunt down and shoot whichever wanker posted the '101 ways to make a dragon purr like a kitty' on the internet. Ever since Kyle found that blasted instruction manual he's been trying to go through the entire list to verify the information. Price had seen the article in question and had nearly choked when he'd read that the author thought pulling on a dragon's tail could get them any other reaction than an immediate bisection—

Kyle's impatient fingers still just enough to gently scratch the bumpy base of his scalp around the horns. It tingles, and Price isn't able to tell if the tingling sensation is of the good kind or a bad. A small sound rolls from his throat, but that doesn't satisfy Kyle.

"Come on John, sing for me." Kyle repeats the words Price tells him when he's preening him, voice light and just at the edge of taunting. Keeping one hand around his base, Kyle slides the palm of his other hand up the hard bone until he reaches the natural curve of Price's horn. He squeezes gently and moves his hand like he's jerking him off.

"O-oh." Price is grateful he's bracing against the desk because his legs go weak. The sensation of his palm and the pressure of his hand is neither good nor bad, just unfiltered feeling that his brain can't even begin to handle, so it shoots it down his spine like lightning. The buzz of sensation catches on every vertebra and makes his wing quiver, forces his tail to wag like he's some lost puppy.

"Not what I was expecting." Kyle confesses. Price can't see the surprise and wonder on his face as John's eyes close automatically. His head tips forward to rest his forehead on Gaz's chest, brawny biceps tensing to just support his weight and claws digging into the desk with enough force to tear through the wood.

Kyle moves his hands so he's holding Price's horns in both hands. The pale green horns are smooth under his palms besides the occasional scratch or chip in them. Kyle moves his hands with slowly and methodically, changing the pressure he uses on every stroke and paying special attention to the sharp tips of his horns.

That's all it takes to turn John's chest into an geriatric engine. Price manages to groan and mumble a curse under his breath before the only sound leaving his lips is the deep baritone purr. There's no way of stopping it; If Price was in a better mind he would question why the gentle stroking of his horns has him feeling like a puddle of goo but his brain is completely fried from the sensation.

Kyle has heard him purr before but this is different. All the other times his purrs would always be throaty and quiet. Now it feels like the sound is coming straight from the bottom of his chest and, fuck, Kyle can feel it, feel the rumble shake his ribs and the desk beneath him. The sound is loud and unpolished and so raw Gaz feels naked just hearing it.

Kyle can feel his heard beating a mile a minute, his surprise making his hands still just long enough for Price to look up at him. Kyle could die happy after seeing how fucked out Price looks — pupils dilated to the size of plates, panting, red faced, so open and unguarded. Comfortable. With him.

"You've been holding out on me John." Kyle smiles softly, starting to stroke his horns again.

Price purrs even louder, his tail curling around Kyle's leg, managing to pull the claws of one hand from the desk to grip Kyle's thigh and pull him closer, draconic hind-brain desperately seeking to get more of that gluttonous pleasure from Kyle's hands.

Safe to say they take longer than five minutes.