#i could fix the white outline around them if i so desired but i have no desire

[rejectedaffection]

not sure how or why but my brain registered the girl's red hair band and immediately thought of chandler

[swirlpops]

aki & you: late.

> all characters are 21+.  > reader: gender neutral (no pronouns or bits & parts mentioned), soft dom.  > aki: bratty leaning mean, ✨complex.✨ > content: established relationship, handjob, spit, orgasm denial. > word count: 1.5k. > a/n: fuuuuucccckkk. got into chainsaw man and OK HMMMM MAYBE THIS MIGHT BECOME A MULTIFANDOM BLOG HMMMMM. also, there's a couple of callbacks from the series weaved within – can you spot them? 😈

Aki Hayakawa sighed and sat up.

His bed was still warm, where relics of intimacy between bodies laid bare – but emptiness remained from the loss of you. Devoid of expression, he watched on as you stood in front of the bed, holding out his crisp white shirt and the slip of his black tie for him. Alongside your mischievous smile was the singsong cadence of your voice, speaking, "Can't be late to work, can we?" 

"You’re annoying. Come back to bed."

"I certainly don't want to invoke the ire of Public Safety, good sir." With a wink, you wound your arm back and tossed his shirt at him.

A nimble hand darted out. He caught it just in the nick of time; it dangled off his finger, precariously teetering by the edge of its starched collar. His frown followed. "First you tell me to not be late, then you decide to make more work for me – which naturally, would make me late. I’m not adding ironing to my morning chores." 

“Nothing a little wrinkle spray can’t fix,” you said, crawling on your hands and knees towards him on the bed. 

He eyed you as you approached, then hung his head down to shake out his shirt with a snap. “Hush,” he spoke, soft and sleep-soaked while slipping an arm through his sleeve. “Don’t be a hassle. I have time this morning–” he slipped his other arm through the other sleeve, “–but you make me want to leave sooner rather than later.”

You leaned forward to rest your chin in your hands, perched on your knees and elbows. “Liar. Anyway, how much time are we talking here?”

“None, now,” Aki said as he ran his fingers down his shirt, buttoning it with an acutely unnerving accuracy. “No time. Nil. Absolute zero.”

“Another strike for lie number two.” You moved to straddle his lap, sleek and silent, while thumbing the silken fabric of his tie. “It’d be a shame to start the day with a strikeout, you know.”  

The heat between your legs coupled with his, forming an unspoken pact that was far too much for him to deal with at an early hour, let alone in the hour before duty needed to be done. All he had wanted was the innocence of your touch, a soothing respite before going about his day – and now, that simple, chaste desire was replaced with another. He glanced up at you with a stoic stare. “Are you going to get off of me?”

“What happened to asking me to come back to bed?” You reached around his neck, gentle in nudging his tie underneath his collar. “Relax.”

To his chagrin, Aki’s eyes flashed with the brief light of compliance. They flickered up to search your face, while your hands found their home in preparing the first knot of his tie. The fabric swished past his face as you pulled it through its loop, and he took keen note of how you bit your lip in concentration when you adjusted the knot's tightness. At that moment he wished it was still nightfall, so he could count every star in the sky as a lucky one. 

“You did it. Congratulations. You can get off me, now.”

“Don’t be like that, darling,” you cooed at him. “Unless, of course, you’re out of time?”

The ghost of a scowl appeared on Aki’s face. “Could be so.”

Without warning, you snaked your hand down the pristine row of buttons on his shirt. “Could be so,” you mirrored quietly. “Let’s find out, shall we?” The satisfying sound of his inhale was your reward as your palm glided over the smooth cotton of his boxer briefs. “Already hard,” you said, clicking your tongue. “Your body betrays you.” 

“You don’t know how to stop talking, do you?”

“Not particularly.” You ran your finger along the outline of his cock – and when your finger landed on the patch of slick gathered at the head, it twitched from the contact, seemingly out of an appreciation for your mercy. “Hm. Looks like you want me to keep talking.”

Aki's eyes rolled back, and he couldn’t tell if it was out of exasperation or lust. With you, it seemed to be the accursed blend of both worlds. “Do what you want,” he said, staving off the waver in his voice. “I don’t care, as long as I’m not late.”

“Famous last words,” you quipped. You snuck your hand underneath his waistband, finding the pulse of his heartbeat in the hardness of his cock. Divine. “Don’t worry, love. I respect your time.” Moving forward to rest your forehead against his, you swiped your thumb over the slit of his cockhead to collect the precum gathered there. You pumped your hand up and down his length, using his slick to help languid strokes and tempt forth small moans from his lips. “...Maybe.”

“Fuck,” he muttered in a low voice. “I won’t take long, just keep… keep doing…”

"Keep stroking your cock like this? Keep going so you can cum all over my hand like the needy man you are?" A twist of your wrist on the upstroke pulled a rendered cry from him. "That's what you meant to say, no?" 

"You're so goddamn noisy," he said through grit teeth; his hips pumped upwards to meet the rhythm of your hand. "God, fuck..."

You let out a thoughtful hum when you noticed his length starting to throb – undoubtedly a result of your work. "Though, I suppose not admitting to something isn't quite the same as a lie." With your eyes trained on his, you leaned forward and pursed your lips, spitting a heavy wad of saliva on his cock. His immediate groan was the giveaway of how much he enjoyed what you were doing.

"Filthy," he mumbled, unable to tear his gaze from the telltale signs of debauchery clinging to the side of your mouth. 

"All for you," you said, picking up the pace of your tugs. "You don't want to be late, after all. Hurry. Cum for me, Aki."

Your words were the flood to break his dam. He grasped the sides of your face to pull you down, catching his lips on yours and snarling into the fire-forged kiss he cast upon you. Gasps and sighs escaped you both as you sought the path of losing yourselves in each other's breath. 

"You won't be satisfied until you hear it," he said, panting after breaking the kiss, "so, yes. Keep going. Keep stroking me just like that. Make me cum." Aki held your face in one hand, squeezing your cheeks as his head lolled back from the overwhelming need to orgasm here, to orgasm now. “Make me cum," he repeated through a ragged moan. "Make me cum…"

You wouldn't allow him to escape so easily. You swooped in towards him, closing the distance so you could hear the shake of his breath. The side of your nose pressed against his, the flutter of your lashes webbed against his, the heat of your lips skimmed against his – all for the sake of weaving your adoration in union. "That's right," you spoke into his mouth. "My little doll, ready to come undone at a moment's notice."

"Please!" he wailed, no longer privy to shame as he fucked into your hand with a ferocity rare and unblemished. The wet, sloppy sound carried into the ambiance around you, and the pulsating of his cock told truths he wouldn’t admit. “Oh god,” he rasped out, “Please, don’t stop–” 

“Mm, I think I will.” 

Aki’s eyes widened in disbelief when your hand came to a standstill. “What are you doing?!” he cried out. “Wait, no! Please! Not now!”

“Oh, darling,” you simpered, eager to see the fruits of your ruined labor. “I simply don’t want to create more work for you.” Heaving a patronizing, dramatic sigh, you peeled yourself off of him and sat on the edge of the bed. You looked back at him over your shoulder; a wicked sadism was scorched upon your face. “Besides, don’t you have morning chores to do?”

All he could do was stare at you, dumbfounded, like a puppy lost in the snow. When the realization washed over him, his eyebrows knitted in a mix of incredulity and anger, and stayed pinned in place by the frustration of pleasure gone awry. “Ridiculous,” he said under his breath. “I can’t believe you.”

“Aki.” Poison honey tones were your ally as you reached over to smooth your touch down his leg. “You should know by now – I do love teasing you so.” 

He threw back his head and let out a long, drawn-out growl. “I was so close.” 

“If you can withstand devils, then surely you can withstand me.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, loathe to give you any more satisfaction. At this point, his cock was starting to soften – he tucked it back into his boxer briefs with whitened knuckles and a clenched jaw. “I’m going to shower.”

“Make sure it’s a cold one,” you said, cackling.

Aki Hayakawa sighed and stood up. 

[paintbrushinacoffeecup2]

Adam, Spock, and Eve -- an Analysis on The Apple from TOS

“The LORD God took the man and put him in the garden of Eden to till it and keep it”, in a promised vow Adam and Eve swore to allow themselves to remain blissfully unaware of the nature of sin or face divine punishment for eating the apple that would give them this knowledge. Star Trek season 2 episode 5, "The Apple", captivates viewers with its exploration of these themes of autonomy and the consequences of blind obedience in the face of authority; or so the episode tries to sell. I would argue that it does tackle these topics in an interesting manner, though not how the writers initially intended. The crew of the Starship Enterprise continually demean the autonomy and personhood of the people of Vaal, denying them the freedom of choice and posit themselves as white-knighted heroes who would fix the unjust systems of Gamma Trianguli Six. However, the landing party fails to acknowledge that they have been here for less than a day, and their understanding of the culture of this small part of the planet is flawed. Ursula K. Le Guin’s essay, American Sci-Fi and the Other tackles these themes, highlighting how limits in our perspective leads to the alienation and dehumanization of people and practices we do not understand, which results in a denial of their autonomy.

Le Guin outlines 4 forms of alienation that have become popular in contemporary Science Fiction – the sexual alien, the social alien, the cultural alien, and the racial alien. Though each comes from a similar vein of popularized ignorance, their manifestations vary greatly in Sci-Fi. The sexual alien in The Apple takes the form of the narrative treatment of female characters like Yeoman Martha Landon. Landon’s 14 lines throughout the hour long episode quickly characterize her as a character whose femininity undercuts her competence as an officer of the Starship Enterprise. Chekov and Landon share a brief, intimate encounter early in the episode,

MARTHA: All this beauty, and now Mister Hendorff dead, somebody watching us. It's frightening.

CHEKOV: Martha, if you insist on worrying, worry about me. I've been wanting to get you in a place like this for a long time.

The conversation gets interrupted by Kirk returning and asking them to not “conduct a field experiment in human biology”. Landon is one of the only characters regularly referred to by her first name rather than her title. While this could be attributed to her low rank as a red shirt, the four other redshirt officers are still often only referred to by their last names as a sign of respect.

"KIRK: Mallory! Marple, stand back! Watch it! The rocks! (kneeling by the body) Kaplan. Hendorff. I know Kaplan's family. Now Mallory.”

Yeomen in The Original Series are often almost exclusively young women, with a notable exception being the season 1 episode The Cage, where the male Yeoman is killed to show the competency of the villain of the week. Their role is to dutifully fulfill the petty orders given by their captain, such as light administrative work or ensuring the wellbeing of the captain and his surrounding male officers. These female Yeomen are often treated by the narrative to have the sole imperative goal to be “an object of desire for the surrounding men.” This is seen especially in The Apple, when Landon voices her concerns for the Starship she is told to be quiet and sit down by Kirk, or silenced by Chekov’s seductions. Her views, questions, concerns, and opinions are constantly used as punchlines for men, as though she’s too stupid to understand the complexities of what is going on around her.

“MARTHA: But these people, I mean, if they don't know anything about. What I mean is, they don't seem to have any natural– er. I mean, how is it, done?

KIRK: Mister Spock? You're the science officer. Why don't you explain it to the young lady.”

She is alienated from the rest of the cast for being a woman, and as Yeomen often are, the women of Starfleet “are also assigned a sexed identity in their professional lives, based on their supposedly “innate” qualities” of “modesty, sweetness, fear, shyness, compassion, [and] languor.”

The social alien is one that focuses on class and hierarchy, specifically, on the lower ranks of it. This form of alienation has many reflections throughout the episode – from Kirk’s treatment of Scotty as they struggle to pull the Enterprise from the tractor beam, to the Vaalian’s role of feeding Vaal. Those who are not leading men are treated as “masses, existing for one purpose: to be led by their superiors.” Those in the Starfleet are under threat of losing their jobs – their financial security and role on the ship – if they do not listen to their superiors. The Vaalians, however, must actively choose to listen to Vaal for their instructions. There is no threat of violence as they do not know what it means to kill, nor incentive for greed as they are already provided everything they need for a happy and healthy life. As the Vaalians go to feed Vaal – their sole role in exchange for eternal life and long lasting prosperity – Spock notes that in his view, this is “a splendid example of reciprocity”. 

This point of view, however, is heavily contested by Captain Kirk and Chief Medical Officer McCoy, and is a prime example of the alienation of the Vaalians and S'Chn T'Gai Spock as Racial and Cultural Aliens. Multiple times throughout the show, Spock’s vulcan lineage has placed him in an uncomfortable position in relation to Starfleet.

“MCCOY: Negative. Did you know this is the first time in a week I've had time for a drop of the true? Would you care for a drink, Mister Spock?

SPOCK: My father's race was spared the dubious benefits of alcohol.

MCCOY: Now I know why they were conquered.”

Many of his conversations with McCoy end with a quip from McCoy about how vulcan biology is inferior to human biology, how their culture is strange and alien to him. He complains about how Spock has green blood, and a heart closer to his abdomen than his chest, even after Spock nearly died protecting them from the deadly flora of Gamma Trianguli Six. McCoy also overdoses Spock, in a blind attempt to get him to wake up from the poisoning. While these could be read as light-hearted quips to maintain the lighthearted tone of the series in face of the Hamlet-ian deaths of the redshirts, McCoy’s refusal to learn about vulcans speaks to a larger theme throughout the episode of doxastic ignorance about other people and cultures.  

The Vaalians are repeatedly noted to be happy and healthy, as explained by McCoy, as he cannot tell if they have been around for “twenty years, or twenty thousand years”... “add to that a simple diet, a perfectly controlled temperature, no natural enemies, apparently no vices, no replacements needed”. Their only natural exchange for this is the gifting of some excess fruit to Vaal each day. McCoy takes issue with this manner of living, and that the Starship must intervene, stating that their society is stagnant, and needs something to strive for. However, Spock states in the episode that the Vaalians, as any other group of people, reserve the right to choose a system that works for them. This argument continues throughout the episode, and exemplifies their alienation of the Vaal due to their ignorance, as the human crew of the Starship attempt to overthrow the system of Vaal. They eventually settle on a final course of action, with the Starship trapped in Gamma Trianguli Six’s atmosphere – to kill Vaal. This response could be predicted by LeGuin’s explanation that “[t]he only good alien is a dead alien”, especially in the context of racial and cultural alienation. The Starship landing party alienates and subverts the autonomy of an alien community because their ignorance leads them to believe they are superior . Le Guin’s essay outlines precisely in each area how this episode creates divides in its cast, both between the Starship Enterprise and Vaalians, but within the Starship as well. At the end of the episode, Spock, McCoy, and Kirk ruminate on the consequences of killing a being who was providing for an entire community of people, and the starship leaving that community with nothing but their own wits.

SPOCK: Captain, I'm not at all certain we did the correct thing on Gamma Trianguli Six.

MCCOY: We put those people back on a normal course of social evolution. I see nothing wrong in that.

KIRK: Well, that's a good object lesson, Mister Spock. It's an example of what can happen when a machine becomes too efficient, does too much work for you.

SPOCK: Captain, you are aware of the biblical story of Genesis.

KIRK: Yes, of course I'm aware of it. Adam and Eve tasted the apple and as a result were driven out of paradise.

SPOCK: Precisely, Captain, and in a manner of speaking, we have given the people of Vaal the apple, the knowledge of good and evil if you will, as a result of which they too have been driven out of paradise.

KIRK: Doctor, do I understand him correctly? Are you casting me in the role of Satan?

SPOCK: Not at all, Captain.

KIRK: Is there anyone on this ship who even remotely looks like Satan?

(McCoy and Kirk walk around Spock. McCoy is gazing intently at Spock’s pointed ears.)

SPOCK: I am not aware of anyone who fits that description, Captain.

KIRK: No, Mister Spock. I didn't think you would be.

This is not to say all of Star Trek treats its nonhuman, lower class, and female characters with this lack of respect throughout the entire series, but The Apple speaks deeply to both Le Guin’s thoughts on Alienation and Patriarchal White Supremacy, and Star Trek’s need to appeal to the larger American audience in its messaging. Landon’s alienation stems from her role in patriarchal systems that would create a divide between her and the leading male cast; The Vaalian and Spock’s alienation is due to being foreign to a capitalist system that pushes for constant productivity, and being denied agency by those who believe their own views are the ‘correct’ ones. Considering the episode was released in America during the Cold War, it’s not hard to infer that this episode was cautioning Americans against communism. However, it treats everyone who isn’t coded as a Red Blooded American Man as mindless and abused, in need of a push in the right direction. This episode tries to speak for a better, more unified divine future – to take people from a corrupted garden and give them true Eden – but it regresses directly back into idealizing colonization in its efforts to homogenize any culture it can touch.

Works Cited under the cut

Boquet, Damien, et al. “Editorial: Emotions and the Concept of Gender.” Clio. Women, Gender, History, no. 47, 2018, pp. 16. JSTOR, https://www.jstor.org/stable/26934334. Accessed 10 Apr. 2024.

Hulshult, Rachel. “Star Trek: What Is a Yeoman & Why Did They Disappear from Starfleet?” ScreenRant, 4 Aug. 2023, screenrant.com/star-trek-yeoman-rank-disappear-why-explained/.

Le Guin, Ursula K. “American SF and the Other.” Science Fiction Studies, vol. 2, no. 3, 1975, pp. 208–10. JSTOR, http://www.jstor.org/stable/4238969. Accessed 10 Apr. 2024.

Pevney, Joseph. Star Trek. 13 Oct. 1967, episode 31. TV Series Episode. The Apple.

Trivers, Barry. Star Trek. 8 Dec. 1966, episode 13. TV Series Episode. The Conscience of the King.

Vatican. “The Book of Genesis.” Www.vatican.va, www.vatican.va/archive/bible/genesis/documents/bible_genesis_en.html. Genesis 2:15.

[plush-rabbit]

Aphrodisiac Induced Angel and Sorcerer

Word Count: 1K Each

A/N: i have nothing to say except that grass can’t fix my thristing. i also like to think that solomon would be a complete mess if given the chance to be with mc in an intimate way

-

Intro:

The angel can’t help but bounce in his steps as he walks up the steps of the House of Lamentation. You invited him over for help on a project. Simeon would be lying if he said that he didn’t feel a twinge of pride at you coming to him for help. Surely, you could have gone to the brothers or anyone else, but you chose him. He smiles at the thought, grabbing the handle of the front door and letting himself in. The cold air of the house stings against his skin, warm from his own internal heat but also from the walk. Perhaps, if he’s lucky, he’ll be able to spend time afterwards with you where studying won’t be the thing that keeps you two together but rather you wanting him to be there. For now, the time that he has with you will remain uninterrupted and while that may not last long, he only pleads with himself that perhaps you’ll become distracted and in turn you’ll lose focus and beg for him to pay attention to you, textbooks forgotten and only the sound of your laughter filling his ears.

It’s wishful thinking, thinking that has his face burn in fear that somehow Father is listening to his every thought and watching him with unblinking and judgemental eyes. His breath catches in his throat, suffocating him and he has to remind himself, mumbling under his breath that as long as he’s in Devildom, he remains unseen. He walks into the kitchen, opting to calm himself before he accompanies you- he doesn’t want the time that he spends with you to be sullied by something frivolous as thinking. At the kitchen table sits a plate of baked goods, a lovely handwritten note creeping from under it, warning the reader to not eat any of the treats.

The time that he spends in Devildom must be corrupting him. He’s sure of it. His glove is dotted with crumbs, his eyes glancing towards the entryway grateful that no one is there to watch as he takes a bite out of something that he was warned not to. It’s not as if there should be much harm to it, there were plenty on the plate and there still are. The treat melts in his mouth, burning his tongue and making his eyes water. It burns him and he takes more, scarfing down the treat and leaning over the counter, his eyes wide and body now aflame. It tastes so familiar, the way that the treat melts in his mouth and weighs heavy on his tongue, so sweet that it must be a crime.

His chest is tight, his hand scratching down the counter and his head grows foggy. Simeon walks towards you, knocking gingerly at the door, his chest still and lungs burning with the desire to breathe- to breathe in something, anything, your own scent, something so intoxicating that it fills his lungs with the sweet relief of air. Looking at you, he wonders if this is what it feels like to be human, to want and have your own body constrict around itself despite knowing its sin.

Simeon:

Simeon doesn’t know why he goes to you. He’s aware of what’s happening to him- the burning desire deep in him, the way that the thought of you makes his heart beat against his chest in a way that makes him scared it’ll actually rupture past his ribs and spill his blood on the floor beneath him. He can hear you come to the door, the shadow under the small space and the twisting of the knob. His breath hitches in his throat when he looks at you, his mind swirling with thoughts of you- wanting to hold you, wanting to kiss you, wanting to pin you against your bed and kiss your neck. You call his name and he collapses into your arms, his hands grasping fitsfuls of your shirt in his hand. His breath is ragged, heavy and puffing against your bare neck and you stumble when he walks forward, out of the way from the doorframe, far enough to kick the door close. He isn’t sure what he is doing, but he knows that when he’s beside you, he’s breathing in your scent and that only makes him want to pull you closer.

You’re the only thought he has in his mind- the only one that he is able to make sense of. He leans against you, his eyes closing and his grip on you tightening. He whispers an apology, his breath warm against the shell of your ear, his voice sweet as he lets his lips graze against your earlobe and rest on your neck. His apologies are slurred, his weight leaning against you as he clings to you tightly. He confesses that he had eaten something he shouldn’t have and now he stands in your arms with a cock that throbs in the confines of his pants. He flinches at your touch, burying his head into the crook of your neck, whining when your hand parts through his hair and your fingertips lay at the base of his neck. If he had known what the effects of the sweet would have been he would have never taken it, he promises with a shaky breath.

It’s hard to think when you’re so close to him. His mind is foggy and the only thing he can think about is how sweet you smell, how earthly and the scent of your cream faint against his nose. He’s desperate, gingerly pressing himself close to your thigh only to flinch when he makes contact. Your heart beats, pulsing against his lips and he wonders what you’d taste like, how you’d feel under his lips and before he’s even able to think about that, he starts to cry, clinging close to you with tears that glisten down the curve of his face. His eyes are brimmed with tears, begging for you to take care of him. The pulsing is too much, he can’t think and the only thing that can even come close to a thought is you. He falls to his knees, his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you close to him, his face pressed against your plump stomach. He begs for your forgiveness- his straight up perversion as he cries against you, unable to take the growing ache in his pants.

Sin starts to overtake him, pulling him close and leading him to the bed where he lies above your comforter, his hands covering his face and his legs shaking. He can already feel semen leak past his briefs and stain the inside of his pants from just the simple guidance to your bed. Despite the sin that he commits, you treat him with kindness, cupping his face and shushing him when his sob catches in his throat. Your hands flutter to his thighs, squeezing the muscle and he can hear your breathless laugh when he jerks in response. He begs for no more teasing, he doesn’t think he can handle it when he’s already in such a vulnerable position. As pitiful as it is, he lets out a whine when you unzip his pants but you don’t laugh and through the gaps between his fingers, he can see you smile softly down at him. You pet his cock between the briefs, his breath catching is his throat as he watches you toy with the outline of his cock. More semen leaks, staining his briefs in a darker color.

His breath is still sweet, his heart beating against his chest and his eyes filled with tears, as he shuts his eyes when his cock meets the cool air of your room. Your hand wraps around his cock, and arches his back into your loose fist. His bulging base is firm as it throbs in your hand, small ripples that form underneath your palm as you give a tentative squeeze. The angel beside you is adorned with a flushed face, his eyes shining with unshed tears and your name on his lips. Your hands leave his cock and he shakes his head, muttering “no” under his breath. He’s already felt you and he’s so drunk off of love and want, that he can’t bear for you to move away from him. Not when you’re so close. You pull him upwards, letting him rest beside you, your body close to his as your hand wraps around his cock, lazily pumping him. He hides his face, panting and thrusting his hips in a sloppy fashion to meet your hand. Simeon is under the light of your room, the pale orange glow and the stars that peek between your curtain, his cock twitching and spilling in a pearly white onto your hand that cradles him gently. There’s a building pressure in his stomach, one that makes him eager to kiss you and touch you despite everything in him screaming that this action is already too far. As if you could read his distressed thoughts, your hand flutters to his face, lifting him upwards to kiss at the corner of his lips. His tongue lolls out, gasping for breath and your thumb runs over his ridges. Your name is repeated, sullied by the angel’s lustful nature as he spills his seed in your hands, and he reaches out, leaning forward to capture your lips in a kiss that only makes his leg shake in ecstasy.

Intro:

Solomon walks into the House of Lamentation, taking great glee that everyone else happens to be busy with some task that pertains to their specific realm. While he, however, gets to indulge in some quality alone time with you. He walks into the house, his smile creeping as the house is silent. He really does have you all to himself- he gets to just sit around and talk to you without disturbance. His tongue peeks to wet his lips, his mouth dry and thirst lingers to linger. You already know that he’s here, having messaged you early, he calls your name, letting you know that he’s in the kitchen. He can hear a muffled reply, one that he can’t quite make out due to the thick walls. Assuming that you might have asked for a drink, he pulls two out of the fridge, setting them down on the counter.

In the corner of his eye, he catches a glimpse of something shining under the light, his attention now turned to it. On the counter sits a glass covered plate with neatly arranged baked sweets inside of it. There’s a sticky note attached- elegant handwriting that tells the reader not to take one without permission. There’s plenty of them, and finding no harm in taking just one, he does a quick glance around the room to make sure it is empty. With delicate hands, he lifts the glass cover, grabbing a sweet and taking a bite. It’s sweet, overly so, filling his mouth and yet, in the next bite, it’s perfect- soft and sweet, the sweet melting in his mouth. He eats the remainder, licking his lips, taking another quick glance to the entrance of the kitchen, he reaches for another. As he does so, you call his name, his body turning towards your voice and walking towards you as if he were in a trance.

Being around the Avatar of Lust should have prepared Solomon for any hints of aphrodisiacs. It wouldn’t be his time that he’s been engulfed with the sweet scent of one, nor the lingering taste that sits heavy on his tongue and makes his teeth ache with sweetness. And yet, he doesn’t notice the fogginess in his mind until he stands at your door. His mouth is filled with cotton, his chest tight with labored breathing that puffs past his lips, and he can hardly think straight. All that Solomon knows is that he wants to be near you and not in the way that he usually wants- to hold your hand and be seated by you, but in a way much more intimate that makes his face flush and skin burn. His feet drag against the floor, his eyes heavy and he can feel the pulsing of his cock, and the beating of his heart that beats in his rib cage. Your voice sounds closer, still muffled by the door, but he can hear you, he can hear your bed creak and the sound of your footsteps walking towards the door.

Solomon:

The few seconds that it takes you to arrive at your door are the longest that the sorcerer has ever gone through. He can hear your steps, he can feel the air shaft and his mouth is filled with drool. He wonders if his face is still flushed, blood pooling in his cheeks or he’s finally returned to a normal color. Despite the twisting in his stomach and the familiar pang of want, Solomon greets you at your door, smiling cheerfully and teasing at how fast you came rushing to the door. He’s quick to rush to your bed, sitting cross legged and trying to ignore the wave of pleasure that sends a chill down his spine. He lets out a shaky breath, masking it as a breathless laugh when you give him an odd look. He only shakes his head and asks for you to sit beside him, patting the bed as he smiles. He knows what courses through his veins, he’s felt this effect multiple times in his life, and while he’s dealt with them before, he doesn’t want you to see him in such a vulnerable state, not when he’d be so fixated on his own pleasure that he’d deprive you of your own. He bites at the inside of his cheek and chastises himself for thinking that you’d even help him with his issue. He got himself into this mess, and he won’t drag you into it.

He can’t stand the look in your eyes- the confusion mixed with concern as your brows furrow and your lips pout. Yet, he continues to smile, asking for you to join him on the bed, color returning to his face when his mind wanders at the sound of his sentence. You walk quickly to him and he looks down, staring at the floorboards and gulping the salvia that has pooled in his mouth. His name is called and the sweet sound of it leaving your lips makes his heart ache- a soft whisper, his name cooed and your hands resting over his shoulders. He hums in response, keeping his head down. Your hands are soft compared to his, calluses that have formed over the ages while yours remain soft, a gentle touch that has long been forgotten. He peers upwards, letting his chin rest against your palm and the look you give him makes his lungs deflate, his heart pounding reactivity against his chest and face going red once more. You ask him if he’s all right, and he wishes that he could say yes. He wishes that he could remember the spell it was to wash away the effects of the aphrodisiac. All he wanted to do was spend the day with you. He is unable to lie to you, chuckling nervously with his hand scratching at the back of his head.

It’s much easier to stare at your closet as he explains. After all, it sounds so silly to tell you that he had eaten something that he was warned to not have eaten. He tells you how he had consumed something, an aphrodisiac that makes him unable to think properly. He’s lucky enough that he can explain it but even so, the ache in his stomach won’t lessen, his chest deflates, his voice going hoarse as he apologizes to you. He really had meant to spend the day with you, but now, he sits on your bed, defiling the very place you rest, with himself. Your hand falls from his face and for that short second where you aren’t touching him, makes his heart drop. But then, you cup his face and sit on his lap and it’s enough for his mind to spiral, his hands catching himself as he leans backwards,a heavy flush crossing over his nose and filling his face. Your hands cup his face and he can only stare at you with his mouth parted, his eyes glancing to your lips that smile at him. The aphrodisiac hits him hard when you touch him, his cock throbbing and pressing against the side of our thigh. He doesn’t know if you’re teasing him or if he’s allowed to lean into your touch. His body is on fire, his eyes widening and your lips ghost over his. You call his name and he nods his head, whispering a feeble plea for you to kiss him.

The kiss is soft, a gentle press against his lips but he wants more. He needs more. He feels as if he’s about to die if he doesn’t get more. He whines against your lips, grasping onto your shirt with shaky hands and pulling you closer to him, shifting to let the tent in his pants rub against your thigh. The tight friction makes him deepen the kiss, his tongue running over your bottom lip as his hands twist your shirt in his hands. He’s flustered, whining and breaking the kiss to whisper who he needs more, how he’s aching for your touch. Your hand rests over his thigh, his muscles twitching in response to you being there, to you even touching him. Slowly, you move upwards, every inch leaving him shaking. Finally, your hands reach over his cock, cupping the tent and palming it gently. He moans into your mouth, pulling away and resting his head on your shoulder, breathing heavily as you undo his zipper, and pull away at his briefs, letting his cock spring free, an opaque white dotting at his cock and slipping down his head.

Every feeling in his body is intensified, the blood that rushes throughout his body, the way that his saliva is heavy on his tongue, the vein on his cock that sends a pins and needles throughout his body when you rub your thumb over it- he’s breathing heavily, his hands loosening around you, only to tighten and grip at your shirt, pulling you close and telling you to continue, begging for more. His cock throbs in your hand, creamy discharge spilling over and staining himself. He lets out a moan, broken and rippled with gasps as he begs for you to continue, his cock still so sensitive and spurting out his seed. You continue on, leaving him with tears racing down his face, his voice cracking as he speaks, his cock still erect with your hand over it. You slowly lead him down, letting him lay above you, your legs spread and the shorts that you wear riding up, revealing your plump thighs. Solomon is above you, his lips pressing against yours, lining his cock between your thighs as he humps you, holding you close with tears in his eyes as he thanks you, letting his semen taint your covers.

[sparkledfirecracker]

Wrong Encounter

Synth’s 5K Follower Challenge / How it started – How’s it going?

@syntheticavenger , Congrats on reaching 5K and thank you for hosting this magnificent celebratory challenge.

Title: Wrong Encounter

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Female Reader

Challenge: Any character but arguing over being charged for something you didn’t order at a restaurant and the owner comes to assist.

Warning: 18+ only, dark content, explicit language, explicit sexual content, vaginal play/teasing?, sex/human trafficking?, sexwork, forced prostitution, forced sexwork, smut, unprotected sex, NonCon

A/N: I can’t say this enough; Synth thank you for inspiring me to write again!  I could have gone any direction yet this came out and fought me along the way, so I whipped out the old skool pen and paper. Maybe a little too save on the warnings, but at least they’re there. Don’t think it is dark enough, so enjoy this masterpiece of crappiness, because editing is not making it any better with this beer I’m consuming. Also as a non-native tongue here, so ALL mistakes are my own. Only lightly proofread, so don’t come for me.

ENJOY!

Pictures for moodboard inspo found on pinterest, so all the credit goes to the respectful owners. The quote inspired the final part to this.

How it started

The red ambiance of the room mixed well with the black shining floor and hanging chandeliers, it was slick and well set up. Looking around the room had you wondering what the parties must be like at night. A colleague had recommended this new place – an exquisite night – as they had described it. Yours ending miserably having a disagreement with your waiter.

The waiter had a way of pissing you off tonight and irritation was clearly bubbling “I’ve only had the steak with sides and a fucking bottle of rose, not the entire fish tank and three bottles of your most expensive champagne” your white knuckles balling around his collar as you practically screamed in his face.

 “There was another table that said you would pay for them.” It sounded like a plea of trying to settle the rage that was coursing through your body.

 “OUTRAGEOUS -- you don’t fact check with your customers?” You seethed “Listen up you little shit. I want to speak to your manager” throwing him out of your grasp, making him stumble backwards bumping into someone.

 “He’s already here and you have his undivided attention” your waiter stands in front of the large man awkwardly “Get back to work Jensen, I’ll deal with this fiery kitten” he nods and practically runs off.

 Annoyance rising at his degrading comment. “Perfect, an insult to go with the wrongly charges to my bill”

 “Ma’am please calm down, I’m sure there’s a way to resolve this mishap” his stance intimidates you

 Your eyes wandered to his silver nametag “Why should I calm down, mister Drysdale? Or should I say, entitled prick?” there was pride in your comeback, no-one should ever call you a fiery little kitten.

 “Ma’am, Ransom, please and watch your mouth, because we have places for woman like you.” It almost sounds like a threat and you’re willing to fight him on it.

 He’s a dark enigma, you can feel it radiate from his body. You’re too caught in taking in his enchanting features and wonder what kind of sorcery this man is using on you to make you feel so small.

 “Why don’t we settle this in my office” A charming smile thrown your way, but you’re too caught up in observing the blue-eyed man in front of you “Ma’am?”

 “Sorry, yeah, the idiot waiting on me charged more to my bill than I even consumed.” You explained without him asking for any of it.

 “Unfortunate, but it happens, please follow me to my office so we can resolve this. Can I offer you a coffee or something else for the inconvenience?”

 “No – No, your waiter overcharged me. No need to sit down somewhere private for this idiotic mishap” words falling firmly from your tongue “Just fix my bill so I can be on my way and never come back.”

 “Please, let us sort this out, if you just come with me to my office -- we can talk this over” His calming persistence had you hooked and you took a deep breath in.

 “Fine.”

 “Great, thank you – Jensen, we’ll be in my office, don’t fuck up more than you already have” You roll your eyes at the barked order, he felt superior to his employees.

 You had followed him into his office, the golden name plate beaming on the door. The dark aesthetic of his office fitted well with the ambiance he’d created in his restaurant and nightclub, it felt luxurious and exclusive, sprinkled with a bit of mystery.

 Ransom stood by his bar cart filled with expensive liquors while your eyes lingered on the well-stocked bookshelves. Ransom Drysdale didn’t look like much of a reader to you.

 “My grandfathers, well most of it anyway, he’s a writer and owns Blood Like Wine Publishing” Ransom explained looking at your admiring gaze. You look back at him noticing his motioning gesture to the chairs “Please sit, can I offer you a drink?”

 “No thank you” shaking your head at his offer, he poured his poison of choice, even though you had refused he handed you a glass. It would be rude to decline again, you accepted the tumbler letting your fingers trace the outlines of the crystal glass in your hand.

 “I won’t keep you for long. What happened?”

 “Tonight I celebrated my promotion and a colleague recommended this place. To find out that – Jensen, I believe his name is – added the entire fish menu and three bottles of your exclusive champagne to my bill. Only to justify it with -- the other customers told me that you would pay for them – kinda bullshit” anger returning you gulped down the strong spirit.

 “I apologize for the experience. How about we forget this night? I want you to come back somewhere next week. Let us wine and dine you, give you the experience you deserved to have had tonight.” He took a sip from his own glass looking at you with darkened yet hopeful eyes.

 It had been a tempting offer, was it going to be worth your time or would you be left disappointed again? “You know what, fine. I’ll be here next week, same time, same day.”

 How’s it going?

One week later

Everything in you had screamed not to continue the night in Ransom’s office. Yet here you we, having had that hard liquor burning down your throat. He’d explained how you owed him now and that his interest in your aggression -- a week prior -- had sparked his desire. There was no going back, there was no way out.

 Ransom’s looking forward to what is to come. For now, he’s cherishing this moment, he loves the switch being pulled, when the terror fills your eyes and start to physically fight him. They always did and he knows you will too, within the soundproof walls screaming when there is still fight left.

 Your mind still trying to comprehend his plans for you. You weren’t sure what to say, instead you settled on staring back at him. Your optic view taking in his well-build frame. You licked your lips unknowingly when he flexed his pecks under the crisp white button down. Your body betraying you by your crossed legs clenching together.

 “Like what you see, precious?” your wandering gaze shot up to meet his eyes, your cheeks blushed as you got caught in the act “-I am certainly liking what I’m seeing”

 “Don’t flatter yourself, Mister Drysdale” you roll your eyes, leaning forward to set the empty tumbler on his desk. He’d taken a step sideways having his crotch right in your face. “Is this really how you want to settle this?”

 “Ransom, I insist -- and funny you should ask.” He looks amused by your question “This is exactly how we’re going to finish this extravaganza I offered you”

 He was on you before you could even make a comeback. His strong arms had lifted you from the chair, kissing you roughly. A strong – almost painful – hold on your neck, other on your hip pushing you into him feeling his stiff shaft probing against your lower belly.

 You felt the shame rising as you let out a moan. His free hand hiking up your skirt, ripping your panties with his calloused hands. The sound snapped you back to reality of what was happening. You tried to push him off, but struggled in his strong grasp. Grabbing his wrist digging your nails in into his flesh.

 “You evil spawn.” He roared crushing the grip on your neck, making you squirm “I was going to make this a pleasant thing, but now I’ll take what’s mine.”

 “Rail me daddy.” You taunted, you knew you shouldn’t, but there was nothing left to loose.

 “That mouth on you little minx. Not one to deny requests though, so the pleasure will be all mine -- Until.That.Cunt.Is.All.Fucked.Out.” with each word spoken he had rubbed himself on you, the heat in your pussy rising unwillingly.

 “I just didn’t know you were running a brothel.”

 “This is not a brothel, there are no prostitutes at this address. Just woman with disrespecting mouths like yours solicited for exclusive places like mine” Ransom muses “Because you’re staying right here – with me” He forces your neck to bend uncomfortably forcing you to look into his darkened orbs.

 Trying to fight him, but failed under his strength. Your body surrendering to his brutal force pressing you into the mahogany wood. The chime of his belt and zip being undone echoing through the room.

 “Don’t please.” You begged trying to get out of this horrible nightmare. A wrong encounter because of being wrongly charged for items you didn’t consume.

 “Let’s play a little game first; if those panties aren’t drenched - I’ll let you go” Keening at the cool air hitting your clit when Ransom’s hands opened your wet lips. “But – if that sweet little honey pot of yours is soaked for me, I’ll fuck you open with just my cock and you’ll stay right here -- forever.”

 “No.” you protested.

 His whispered confession only proved his twisted game. “I think you and I both know what it will be.” His fingers played with your clit and prodded your entrance. A soft wail escaped at his given attention. “I think you’ll be a nice addition to my selection of ladies.” Ransom couldn’t help but smirk at your powerless expression. His confession only added to the unwavering pain of realization that you were stuck in this newfound imprisonment.

 Thumbs pressing into your ass, his other fingers digging into the flesh of your hips. He slams into your fluttering cunt, the air leaving your body from his unforgiving pace. You scream loudly at the unwanted pleasure.

 You’re fully trapped underneath Ransom’s body, impaling you from behind continuously. “Scream for me!” It’s an order you won’t obey and you squeak when he balls your hair in his fist “Fierce little minxes like yourself are made for places like mine” Ransom growls into your ear. “Let me hear those gorgeous sounds, precious. Scream while you still can before it vanishes. No-one can hear you, scream for ME.”

 Ransom’s arm finds its way around your neck jerking you into his toned chest, your hips being bruised from the impact of the wood. Your hands grip his arm trying to loosen the chokehold, fighting for air into your lungs only to have it escape with every rut inwards. His free hand rubbing circles on your pulsating bead, his pleasured grunts making your stomach churn.

 Pleasure taken from your - desperate, powerless and giving - body in his arms. He ravishes your body, like you’re his personal favourite fucktoy. Your legs start to tremble and your orgasm builds rapidly under the abuse, little whimpers escaping you. Tears streaming down your cheeks at the realisation of being solicited for a brothel.

 Only seconds later your body surrendered to the fire within you, screaming out to Ransom while your body shook heavily in his hold. His arms let you go, your quivering body dropping on the desk, panting from the intense build orgasm. The lost air stings with every inhale, you’re too tired to fight him.

 Ransom sat down in his leather chair and picked up the phone. You tried to look away from him, but he is fast to grab your hair and keep the intense stare. Ransom’s pride beams, he’s a heartless beast. He’s always gotten what he wanted and you’re just a new addition to his elite gentlemen’s club.

 “Barber? Yes! She’s definitely the one. How I know? She’s fucked out on my desk, tight little cunt on her. Perfect for the job, draw up the contract will you” A snarled order followed by a darkened smile and filthy wink thrown your way. “Her mouth looks exquisite; I’ll make sure to reserve it for your cock. So she can suck it as a thank you!”

[kimnjss]

more than ready | myg

⤑ series: be my baby

⤑ pairing: rapper!yoongi x mom!reader

⤑ genre: smut!! nd fluff.

⤑ rating: explicit

⤑ word count: 5.6K

⤑ warnings: here we goo... cursing, dirty talk, neck kissing, hickeys, slight biting, oral sex (f. receiving), oh my god spitting, squirting, yoongi has an impreg kink, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, cum inside, unintentional cock warming (he’s gotta get it in there), multiple orgasms.

⤑ A/N: so hi! this was only supposed to be just that first scene... but then i got sad that it was ending so i added more :( - so yeah ,. it took longer than i expected .  but i hope you guys really like this!! i can’t believe it’s over omg :( i’m gonna miss them sm .

⤑ impreg dialogue credit goes to @taetaewonderland​​, go check out her work, she’s soo talented!

JUNE 5TH, 2020 | 16:09 – TWO WEEKS LATER.

It had been a long day, spent lifting boxes and reorganizing your things into Yoongi's house. Not sure who was more excited about the move, Hyunki or Yoongi but both of them couldn't stop going on about how much fun they'll have now that they'd be together all the time. You were happy too, of course, felt right to be redecorating the room that you'd now be sharing with Yoongi.

Yoongi. Your man, your boyfriend. Yours. It only made sense that way. Being with him, happy with him. The two of you were made for each other and now you could finally be together. As a family.

And you didn't want it any other way.

He's laid sprawled out on his bed, watching with hooded eyes and a large smile as you arrange your clothes in his closet. All while organizing the messy clutter that came with the way he tended to carelessly toss his clothes in once they were washed. Happiness settling in his chest, paired with the domestic feeling from watching you.

Not done up like how you usually liked to walk around. Fitting sweats hanging off your round hips, one of his plain shirts swallowing your figure. Hair effortlessly framing your bare face. He felt almost privileged to get to see you like this, knowing that not many people have.

“How many of these shirts do you need?” You're asking with a slight laugh, lifting the plain white FG shirt for him to see. The shirt identical to the one that you're wearing now and the other four you had just put away.

Yoongi only shrugs, lips twitching into a smile. “They're comfortable,”

A simple roll of your eyes is your answer, folding the garment before reaching for the black one. Tiny feet pad into the room, Hyunki silently climbing onto the bed with a pout on his face. Sitting up slightly, Yoongi prepares to ask what's the matter – but Hyunki is beating him to it.

“Daddy! The batteries keep falling out.” 

Even if you hadn't been watching them, you could perfectly picture the large smile that took over Yoongi's features at hearing his son call out to him. The same smile that broke onto his face each time Hyunki was referring to him as 'Daddy' as if he was hearing it for the first time each time.

“Here, let Daddy take a look.” He speaks softly, pulling the toy from his son's hands. It's an easy fix, the back of the toy needing to be tightly secured. But Hyunki is looking at him as if he had just figured out world peace. Thanking him loudly before taking his toy back into his room.

The triumphant grin doesn't leave his lips, the entire time he's watching you walk around the room. “Did you see that?” He's asking you and you're only now realizing that he had been waiting for you to comment. 

“See what?” Playing dumb while leaned over his body on the bed, attempting to fill the bedside table with your undergarments. 

An arm swiftly wraps around your waist, tugging you down a bit so you're directly over him. “'Daddy, the batteries keep falling out',” He mimics his son's voice, smile shifting into a large one that shows off his gums. “I think I'm his hero,” He's concluding and you can't help the laugh that slips past your lips.

“You might be,”

His eyes shine at your agreement, head tilting to crash his lips onto yours. The kiss sweet, slow, all of his love and adoration being poured into every movement of his lips. He's holding you close, hands resting lightly on your waist, thumbs rubbing circles into your skin.

It's not until his lips are slipping from yours, finding your neck does the mood shift. Teeth and tongue marking up your skin, soft giggles falling from your lips, and filling your bedroom. He's pulling away only to tug down the collar of your shirt, revealing more of your neck to his greedy lips.

Fingers knitted in his hair, you're tugging at the strands slightly – eyes rolling at the soft scrape of teeth against your skin. His fingers have crept underneath the fabric of your shirt, sneaking their up toward the wire of your bra.

“Daddy! It happened again,” The screech breaks through the haze of desire that started to fog up the room. Yoongi's mouth pulling from your neck with a pop. Hyunki's call ringing from his room. “Daddy, come look!” 

There's not even a moment of hesitance before Yoongi is pressing his lips to yours quickly before lifting his body and exiting the room. A huffed, “Daddy's coming, buddy.” Falling from his lips as he exits. 

Had wanted to stay in there with you, continue to the obvious place his wandering kisses were going – but duty as a father calls. And he was more than ready to answer the call. The sound of them playing together fills your ears, a wide smile spreading across your lips as you stand from the bed.

Going back, you listen to them together – happiness filling your heart from the sound of their laughter. And you're sure nothing would ever sound as good as them.

“What are you doing?” Yoongi's voice rings from behind you. Stood in the kitchen, after putting away your clothes in his room. His arms snake around your waist, head finding your shoulder, watching as you slice out bite-size pieces.

His lips have started to suck soft kisses into the back of your neck, fingers toying with the band of your leggings. “Making a snack,” You answer, nonchalant. Trying to act like his simple touches weren't driving you insane.

“You're a snack,” He replies lamely, teeth sinking into the curve of your shoulder. And you're convinced you're in love with this man because there's no other explanation for how a phrase like that could turn you on that much.

But of course, his ego didn't need to know that. “Aren't you supposed to be entertaining your son,” It's hard to mask the breathy tone of your voice, body reacting to the feeling of his lips on your skin, his hips pressed into the curve of your ass.

“Animal Planet came on. And after the third time he shushed me, he told me to come see what you were doing,” The snort of laughter that comes from your nose is automatic, amazed how alike the two of them were. Couldn't help but wonder if he noticed it too.

Although, his mind is somewhere else. Tongue now rolling hotly against the shell of your ear, gently sucking the flesh into his mouth while his fingers tease their way down past the elastic band. “Think I can eat my snack in the room?” Words murmured into your ear, sending a pang of arousal throughout our veins.

Your giggle is obnoxious, but you can't help it with how giddy this man makes you feel. Head tilting slightly so you could see him, catch glimpse of those lust-filled eyes. Not a lot of time granted to admire them before he's covering your lips with his in a hungry kiss. Twisting your body easily, so your back is now pressed against the counter.

“Yoongi,” He's meeting your panted moan with a grunted curse of his own. Cock stiffening in his pants just from the sound of you saying his name. He loved to hear you say his name.

There's no need for you to say much else, his hands grasped around your thighs to easily lift your body onto his. If this had been four years ago, he'd be fucking you on the counter without an ounce of hesitation. But he takes the moment to walk you toward your room, lips never detaching from your neck.

Hard cock grazing over your crotch with each step. Lowering both of your bodies onto the soft mattress, after gently kicking the door closed. With your legs wrapped around his waist, you can feel every ridge and curve of his dick through the thin fabric.

“Take those off,” He pants, leaning back just enough where he's able to remove his shirt from his torso.

Only allowed to a moment to admire the dips of his collarbones, the browned pink of his nipples, each indent that nicely outlined his abs, a trail of hair traveling from below his belly button and disappearing underneath the waistband of his boxers.

He's stealing the image from you, ducking down to tug at your joggers. Hastily, he's pulling them down your legs, cutely grumbling to himself about your endless staring. But, could he blame you? When he looked that good over you like that?

Hooded eyes follow his hands, grin growing as more and more of your smooth skin is revealed to him. You're sighing at the delicate way he lifts your foot, tugging the fabric from around your ankle, before placing a soft kiss to the bone. Tongue just barely grazing over your flesh, painting blotches of saliva all the way to your knee.

Squirming underneath him, needy to feel him where you wanted him most. Each swipe of his lips has a fresh gush of arousal heating up your core and he was ignoring the way your sweet scent tickled his nose.

Breathing picks up at the feeling of his mouth marking up your inner thigh, teeth determined to create a bruise and you're so concentrated on the movement of lips that you don't notice the hand that has crept its way between your legs. Not until the tips of his fingers are brushing against your covered clit and your body is jolting.

“So sensitive,” He murmurs and you can feel the stretch of his grin against your skin. Head lifting to watch your fingers move between your legs, loving the sound of the soft moans he's able to pull soft whimpers from the back of your throat. “So wet too, baby. Bet you taste so sweet.”

Even through your panties, a clear string of slick connects his fingers to your mound as he pulls his arm back. He watches with fascination, taking his time to break the connection before he's pushing his those same fingers into his mouth, wantonly sucking your juices from his fingers.

You'd guess he was just putting on a show for you, wanting to make you as delirious as possible while watching the way his tongue caresses his fingers. But you'd be wrong, especially with the way his cock twitches underneath his shorts. He was enjoying this just as much as you.

“I want to feel your tongue, Yoongi.” Knowing him well enough to know that he wasn't going to give in until you were asking for it, sometimes holding out until you were full-on begging for a bit of relief.

It's like a switch was flicked inside of him, the smirk that takes over his features as his hand drops. Wet fingers latch onto the thin string of your thong, pulling it down until he's able to discard the wet bundle elsewhere. He doesn't waste a moment with diving in.

The first initial swipe of his tongue has your hips lifting, a hummed moan leaving your lips, your fingers tangle into the roots of his hair. So long since you've felt his mouth on you, you're way more sensitive than usual. Yoongi isn't complaining about that in the slightest bit.

His tongue parts your folds, the sweet drops of your arousal quickly coating his tastebuds. Lips quickly wrapping around your clit as a moan slips past his lips from the taste of you, the sound sending a vibration throughout your core. “Shit, Yoongi.” Voice hushed, vaguely remembering to keep quiet.

Yoongi's eyes are darting up to catch the expression on your features, how fucked out you look already and he's just getting started. Just barely, you feel the curve of his smirk against you, the suction behind his lips getting harder. Hips push down against his mouth, offering more of your dripping cunt to his tongue.

“Fuck, I don't remember you being this sweet.” He groans into your heat, tongue traveling down to lick into your entrance. A large hand lifted to set on your mound, thumb finding your clit. “I love this pussy,”

Whether it's the desire that coats his voice or the words he's saying to you, your walls are clenching around nothing. Throbbing for release already, a drawn-out moan falling from your lips as his mouth latches back onto you. His tongue moves much quicker into you, breath trapped in your throat while your fingers tighten in his hair – keeping his face pinned between your legs.

He can't take his eyes off you. Your head lulled back, your hips desperately grind against his face. Chasing the orgasm that you know is close, speeding to the end that he's more than ready to bring you to. “I-it... feels so good,” 

Yoongi's humming into you, arms looping underneath your thighs to pull your body closer to his face. Stilling them in their frantic rolls, he shifts into pressing wet kisses onto your clit. “You like that, baby?” Tongue flicking against your sensitive nub quickly. “Want me to make you cum?”

“Please, please! I need-” He's cutting your begging short, lips wrapping around your clit and sucking down harshly. With little to no warning, his fingers are slipping past your folds, curved so he's instantly meeting that rough patch of skin buried inside of you. Walls clench in response around his fingers, protesting as he draws his fingers back.

A gasped moan breaks through your lips as he's pushing back in, pressing deep inside of you before pulling back again. He's fingers are quickly falling into a steady pace, head lifting and his eyes lock with yours. “You gonna cum?” He only holds your gaze only for a moment before his attention is flickering back between your legs.

Watching in fascination as his fingers disappear inside of you. He's still waiting for your answer, eyebrow raising when it doesn't come. Breathless moans the only thing that falls from your lips. “Hm?” He prompts.

Pink tongue pokes out between his lips, coated with his spit. You watch as he lets it roll off the tip, landing directly on your clit and he's lifting his thumb to rub it in. “You close, baby?” A strangled cry emits from the back of your throat, nodding frantically as you begin to shake underneath him.

“Yes, yes! P-please make me cum,” Words fighting their way out of your mouth when you feel his fingers start to slow. He's grinning at the sound of you begging for him, lowering his body back between your legs. Fingers slowly sliding out of you to be replaced with his open mouth, wet digits easily finding your clit. “Go ahead, baby. Cum for me,”

It's as if your body was waiting for his command, pulsating, and arching in pleasure. Hips pinned to the bed and you have to muffle your scream as your orgasm leaves your body in waves. Splashing his lips and your thighs, soaking the sheets underneath you. Your eyes squeezed shut, the wetness clumping your lashes. 

Yoongi's groans are muffled by your pussy, lapping up your juices like a man starved. His eyes are on you the entire time, watching as you ride out your high until your body is falling limp on the mattress heavy breaths lifting your chest.

All at once, he's lifting his body to hover over you, nose nudging against yours slightly and on instinct, your mouth is falling open. There's a hint of a smirk on his lips before he's opening up his mouth, a mixture of his spit and your cum trickling down his wet muscle and landing onto yours.

You're swallowing it down with no hesitance, dark eyes never leaving you, and only growing darker when you're parting your lips to show him your empty mouth. His lips are attached to yours in an instant and you're welcoming his tongue and the warm wetness that comes with it. Swallowing that too.

“You're so fucking perfect,” He groans, fingers tracing over the softness of your stomach. “Take everything I give to you,” His eyes flicker down to watch the movement of his fingers and you follow his gaze. Not missing the painful-looking strain at the front of his shorts, one odd move and he'd be bursting through the fabric.

He's reaching lower, spreading your legs apart so he's able to fit his body in between them. Groaning at the unintentional friction over his cock. Slowly, his fingers walk their way back to your stomach, brushing over your skin delicately. “Should I put another baby in you?” His cock twitches against you at the mere mention of it, but he pays it no mind – keeping his glued to yours.

“Please,” Something changes in his eyes with your agreement, turning dark as your legs lift. Toes hooking into the waistband of his shorts, pushing them the best you can with your angle. “Want you to fill me up,” You whine and the growl that leaves his throat can only be described as primal.

His hands are quickly wrapping around your ankles, tugging your body into his before pushing his shorts down the rest of the way. Cock bouncing against your folds the moment his clothes are out of the way. “You want me to?” Lowering himself onto you again, his hips roll; coating his shaft with your arousal.

“Give you a little girl this time?” He's more turned on then you've ever seen him. And it only deepens as he continues speaking. Egging himself on. “Can't wait 'til you're all big and swollen with my baby. Want that?”

Head bobbing in a nod, a breathy 'yes' leaving your lips followed by a string of like sounding ones. A single hand wraps around his shaft, squeezing out a dribble of precum before he's lining himself up with your entrance. Teeth cutting into his lower lip, eyes fluttering as he slides into you inch by inch.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He huffs once he's bottomed out, your walls clenched tight around him. “Always so fucking tight,” Yoongi whimpers, like actually whines as he pulls his hips back. In one swift movement, he's pushing forward, the tip of his cock nudging against your cervix.

Head bowed, he watches his cock drag in and out of you. Your moans filling the room as the strength of his thrusts grow. His hands set on your hips, fingers bruising into your skin as he fucks you into the mattress. He's groaning out your name, lips close to your ear, and you whimper when he's catching it between his teeth.

“Gonna get you nice and pregnant. Fuck my baby deep inside you,” Yoongi's gasping out against your skin as you clench around him. Cock twitching against your walls. He's close, already. And you have a feeling it has everything to do with the thought of filling you up.

His hand fingers are quick to find you clit, rubbing frantic circles against it as his grip tightens around your waist. “God, I can feel you trying to milk me... you gonna cum again?” Nodding, breathless moans fall from your lips. Hips lifting to meet each one of is powerful thrusts.

“Yoongi, fuck-” Words breaking on a sob, clit being pinched between his knuckles. Your lashes flutter, hips lifting off the mattress as your walls squeeze tight around him. He's urging you on, mumbling dirty things into your ear that only prolongs your orgasm.

And the moment your body stops shaking, Yoongi is fucking into you with a newfound strength. Face buried in the crook of your neck. The power of his thrusts makes your tits bounce, pebbled nipples brushing against the fabric of your t-shirt. 

He's delirious, it seems. Incoherent mumbles about how pretty you'll look with his baby. How he's ready to fuck you over and over again until you're full of him. And you moan in response, wanting everything he's offering. Yoongi's teeth sink into the curve of your shoulder, hips stiffening before he's spilling his speed into your womb. Strong hands keeping your body in place and whines fall from your lips at the feeling of his warmth coating your walls.

The tiniest of orgasms wash through your body, walls clenching around him, attempting to milk him of every last drop. And he doesn't move until he's empty, pulling out slowly despite the protest your pussy puts up. His cum dribbles out of you, toes curling at the familiar feeling.

Yoongi's quick to push it back in, using the tip of his cock as a shovel. Dazed eyes glued to your core and you're sure he's barely thinking when he's sliding back inside of you. Arms wrapped around your shoulder as his face nuzzles the crook of your neck. “Gotta get you nice and pregnant,” He's mumbling before his body falls slack.

It doesn't take you long to realize that he's fallen asleep, the intensity of his orgasm getting to him. A giggle falling from your lips, fingers running through his slightly sweaty hair. “Really hope you do,” Voice barely above a whisper, you press a soft kiss to his forehead.

Holding him as he falls deeper into dreamland, his soft breath tickling the side of your neck. And you let your mind wander, thinking about how different things are now... how they're the same. How they'll change three years from now. 

More than ready to grow your family with him.

JUNE 8TH, 2020 | 11:27

“I just can't have anyone working for me that my girl doesn't trust. That I don't trust.” Yoongi sits at his studio desk, a nervous looking Jiso stood in front of him. Sort of knew what the ordeal was when he was calling her into his studio in the serious tone he almost never uses.

Of course, you weren't keeping it to yourself just how you were finding out about Yoongi's addiction. And while it worked out in the end, having someone who was so willing to share his business on his team... just couldn't happen.

Despite the apologies, her promises to never do something like that again – he couldn't budge. Not someone that could be trusted, not to mention the sly attitude she had toward you. No way would he keep someone like that around, working so close underneath him.

“Mr. Agust, it was just a mistake. Do you really think I'd intentionally wrong you?” Long eyelashes batted at him, pouted lips pouted in his direction. He uses to consider her pout cute, especially when she first started out and was constantly making tiny mistakes.

Never something he acted on. Jiso was his assistant and that was it. But the guy wasn't blind. A good looking girl and that had a lot to do with why he kept her around, ignoring his bosses when they told him to hire someone better. All she did was make mistakes.

“I know you weren't trying to hurt me. You were trying to hurt my girl and that doesn't sit well with me.” It's automatic, how her eyes roll at the mention of you. A soft scoff falling from her lips.

But the hard stare that Yoongi gives her, daring her to say one thing wrong about you keeps her mouth shut. Realizing that her cute pout won't get her anywhere in this situation, Jiso allows her shoulders to slump. “Okay,” She sighs, “Thank you for the opportunity.” He almost feels bad for the girl, because it's his fault.

Entertained her crush for a bit too long. Never made advances, but he never corrected her flirting. Acted as if it was okay, never set her straight. And now here they were. Jiso turns with a sigh, heavy steps taken out of the studio and into the hallway.

Not paying attention she almost tumbles over Hyunki, who's running full speed down the hall. You're a few steps behind him. He stops short before his face is smacking against her knee, looking up at her with wide eyes. “Sorry, Miss Jiso!” She's quick to tell him it's alright, gaze lifting to find you had caught up to them.

Her stare turns cold. “Hope you're happy, I just got fired.” Arms crossed over her chest, the weight shifting onto one leg, popping her hip out. Was she serious? You don't even bother to mask the laugh that falls from your lips at her ridiculousness.

“You're a shit employee,” Gentle fingers run through Hyunki's soft hair. “Baby. Go tell your father it's time to go,” With a quick nod, Hyunki is back to running at full speed. On his tiptoes he taps in the code he's seen you both punch in a ton of times. The door clicks open and he's rushing in.

Jiso only offers an annoyed scoff, before she's brushing past you. Heels clicking as she leaves the corridor, mumbling angrily to herself.

“Daddy! It's time to go!” In the middle of rerecording the spoken bit of his song, Hyunki's voice overlaps. He's stopping the track, just as he steps further into the room. Hitting play, the sound of his son calling for him echos throughout the room.

Hyunki gasps. “That's me!” A hand clamped over his mouth as his eyes go wide. Yoongi lets out a laugh, turning in his chair so he can fully face him. “I think we should keep it, what do you think buddy?”

Something of an intro as the beat starts. “Yup!” Not needing any details before he's agreeing. Small hands tug on Yoongi's large one, attempting to pull him from his seat. “Mommy said she was very hungry.” He allows himself to be pulled to his feet, arms reaching down to lift Hyunki onto his side.

“Ooh, we better hurry. Mommy's grumpy when she's hungry.” Hyunki's head is nodding quickly, eyes widening slightly as he tilts his head to look at his dad. “And she talks too much too,” Despite the laugh that breaks through Yoongi's lips, he's quick to remind Hyunki not to talk about his mom like that.

A tiny huff leaves his lips, hand lifting to rest on his cheek. “You said first,” He says, but mostly lets it go. No doubt saving it to get him in trouble later on. Sometimes it shocked him how alike they were.

JUNE 13TH, 2020 | 20:39

Yoongi enters the room, damp shirt sticking to his stomach. A bright smile brightening his features, his eyes landing on your body curled up under his sheets. His heart pounds, the way it always does when he sees you. Basically skipping over to press a soft kiss to your forehead. Nearly stuttering when he sees the smile that pushes onto your lips.

“See? Bedtime is not that hard.”

Pretty eyes roll at his words, fingers dropping to graze over the wet fabric of his shirt. Peaking down to admire the bit of skin you can see through the material. “Yeah? Your shirt's all wet. He splashed you, didn't he?” Eyes finding his, soft strands of hair bouncing as he shakes his head slightly.

Yoongi steps back, putting a bit of distance between the two of you so he's able to pull his wet shirt from his body. You watch him shamelessly, in silent awe as he carelessly reveals more of his skin to you. Acting as if you hadn't seen him like this a million times before.

“I don't know who he thinks he is,” He strips down until he's in his boxers, ruffling his hands through his hair before sliding into bed beside you. Body turning at once, he doesn't hesitate to tuck you underneath his arm. 

Lips finding the soft skin just below his jaw as you settle into his side. “He's literally you,” Your laugh vibrates against his neck and now it's his turn to roll his eyes. Mockingly, he repeats your words. Playfulness coating his tone

His head shifts, body twists until he's able to crash his lips down onto yours. A satisfied hum leaving his lips as his mouth moves over yours. Slowly, lovingly. Taking his time with the way he kissed you as if you had all the time in the world. Because you had all the time in the world.

Gentle teeth tug at your lower lip, easily pulling your lips apart enough so his tongue can slide past them. And you accept him without a moment of hesitance, fingers curling into his hair as your wet muscles roll and push against each other. He's holding you close to him, hand slid underneath the hem of your shirt. Pleased to find the only thing keeping him from the warmth of your skin is the lace of your panties.

Seemed to be your uniform in his bed. His shirt, preferably one that smelled most like him, and a pair of panties. It was his favorite thing to see you in. Right next to nothing at all. Slowly, Yoongi's letting his lips part from yours. Kissing away the clear line of saliva that keeps your lips connected.

“Can we have another one?” His fingers toy with the lace of your panties, no doubt poking holes into the already holey material. Still on your birth control the night he had been so determined to put a baby in you, so deep in the moment that it had slipped your mind.

But the next day you were making the appointment to get it removed and now you were physically ready to grow your family. As well as mentally. “Yes,” His grin groans, nose nudging your head to the side so he's able to press his lips to your neck.

“Right now?” His words are muffled by your skin, flesh sucked between his teeth. His hands are sliding underneath your panties, gripping the flesh of your ass in his palms. Kneading and molding the flesh as if he could shape it.

You're laughing loudly at the giddiness hidden with his tone, hands reaching back to bat his hands away from your butt. “No, not right now.” You're turning in his arms easily, back pressed into his chest. He doesn't lift his hands from your body, instead allows his fingers to dance over your soft belly.

The tips of his fingers brushing against the slightly raised scar on your lower belly. Face nuzzled in the crook of your neck as his index finger runs over the long line leading from one hip to the other. His fingers repeat the motion, gentle kisses planted on your neck.

You don't notice the way your body has gone tense against him. Not use to the feeling of someone touching your scar. Always politely ignored. Yoongi's picking up on your rigidness instantly, fingers stilling.

“It hurts?”

Hand coming down to meet his, your fingers intertwine with his. Urging yourself to relax. Just Yoongi. There was nothing to worry about. He had already proved to you time and time again that things like this didn't mean anything to him.

“No, just... no one has touched it before. Feels weird,” He's nodding in understanding, lips planting one last gentle kiss to your neck before he's lifting his head to set his chin on your shoulder. “I like it,” Yoongi is deciding after a momentary silence.

The feeling that washes over you can only be described as happiness. “Really?”

“Of course. It's what got our son here. I think it's pretty... I think you're pretty.” Body leaning back into him, your head finds his shoulder. His fingers continue to rub against the scar, feather-like kisses placed over the side of your face; slowly making their descent lower on your body.

Along with his hands.

“Your hands seem to be going a bit low there, Mister.”

The laugh that leaves his lips shakes your back and warms your heart. Subconsciously spreading your legs for him, hips pushing back into his. “Are they? I didn't notice...” The tips of his fingers dip underneath the band of your panties, crawling their way further between your legs.

You open up your mouth to speak, words caught in your throat as the sound of your bedroom door slamming open fills the room. “I'll sleep here!” Hyunki shouts, and Yoongi is quick to pull his hands away from him.

He runs at full speed into the room, slowing only to climb onto the bed. He stands on the edge for a moment, a mischievous look in his eyes as he grins. Two bends of his legs and he's SuperMan jumping directly onto Yoongi's chest. “I'll sleep here!” He screams through a laugh as Yoongi's arms wrap around him.

You're turning onto your side so you can face them, smiling at the way he's spread himself on his dad's stomach, using him as his own makeshift mattress. Elbow propped up on the bed, you rest your cheek on your palm. “Do you not like your big boy bed?”

“Sometimes no.” Hyunki shrugs. His arm wrapped around Yoongi's torso, cheek smushed against his chest. “Daddy makes me sleep,” And if the sleepiness in his tone wasn't proof enough, you had no idea what would be.

Yoongi is grinning proudly at his words, arm reaching out for you. He's easily tucking you into his side. “Let Daddy make you sleep too.” The happiness in his words has your heartwarming, an arm wrapping around both of them you settle into his side.

You're falling asleep instantly in his arms. Feeling as happy as he sounds. Positive that you've never felt this content. This at peace with anyone. Yoongi. Hyunki. Your family. You loved them. Not realizing you had spoken out loud until Yoongi's smiling lips are finding your forehead. 

“I love you too.”

— when the love of his life suddenly vanishes, he drives himself mad looking for her. seemingly erased from the world, he’s forced to pick up the pieces of his life and move on… fast forward three years and someone who looks a lot like the woman he lost is being spotted, holding a kid with an oddly familiar gummy smile…

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A/N: timestamps make sense throughout the fic. to be added to the taglist, send me an ask !! feedback is highly !! appreciated, it’s the motivation i need to keep the fic going nd fun for you guys!!<33

[knchins]

Manager’s Special - Seijoh 4

Summary: Being the manager of Seijoh University's boy's volleyball team meant filling their every need. But can you satisfy all four seniors at the same time or will you break trying?

Pairing: Oikawa x Fem!Reader x Iwa x Mattsun x Makki

Rating: E+

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings:  Degradation/Humiliation, Oral sex (giving/receiving), Vaginal Sex, Anal Sex, Double Penetration, Triple? Penetration (I technically don't view this as triple but some might), Squirting, Vaginal/Anal fingering, Unprotected sex, Gangbang (obvs), Blindfold usage, Spit (just a little), A smidgen of dubcon if you squint, Overstimulation, Mindbreak??, Aftercare, and Oikawa being a total Asshole

Notes: This is completely self indulgent and I don’t apologize for it one bit.

 Since earning the head manager position of Seijoh University’s boys volleyball team, you had learned to keep a tight schedule. It could be very hard work at times, but honestly it was very rewarding and the experience was worth the late nights and early mornings. It was an honored title that many girls strived for year after year. You had been merely an assistant your first two years of college and now, finally, your tenacity had paid off. You were number one and with it you held a whole new set of responsibilities.

 Because while you did the duties of a normal manager, at Aoba Johsai, female managers also held a very...important role. They were in charge of making sure all of the senior players kept their head in the game and stayed at the pique of physical fitness. This meant that you were in charge of making sure all of their needs were met.

 Every. Single. One.

 And you had quickly found that the four seniors you were in charge of satiating this year were particularly hungry for one thing and one thing only. You.

 Oikawa, Iwaizumi, Hanamaki, and Matsukawa all had their own unique interests and tastes. They fought for your affection, sometimes making you feel pulled into four different directions at once. It got so bad that they had to roll die to see who could have you first. There were prime time slots in your schedule, after all, and everyone wanted to be the one to hold it. Weekends were especially cut throat among them and it was finally decided on an even rotation. Oikawa, since he was the captain, got the first weekend. Mattsun was second. Iwaizumi third, and lastly Hanamaki. You never had a moment to yourself it seemed like. The core four took up the entirety of your free time.

 But you knew what the job demands were before you took it. You agreed to this. If only you had known how draining it would be. You couldn’t have imagined the sexual appetites of athletes being this overwhelming. If only there was time to recuperate. Time and time again they worked you to tears. Multiple times a week you’d be left overstimulated and so incredibly full of cum. But none of that could have prepared you for what they had in mind for this particular Saturday.

 Makki was supposed to come over to your apartment alone that evening. You had the scene set the way you knew he liked it. Lights dim with a plethora of candles scattered across the bedroom. There was chilled sparkling water set on the bedside and a new bottle of lube. You had taken time to shower, scrubbing every inch of you clean for him. After drying yourself off, fixing your hair and putting on light natural looking makeup, you stepped into a nice little sheer white baby-doll nightie with nothing but a sea foam green thong underneath.

 After a look-over in your floor length mirror, you smiled with satisfaction. Makki was the gentlest of the four and usually he pampered a little more afterwards. It was the only time you get any semblance of rest. Maybe you could convince him to go easy on you too. Take things slow. He was the easiest to reason with and you had been looking forward to this all week.

 There was a knock at your front door and immediately you were thrown off. Each player had a unique knock to them, and what you just heard wasn’t Makki’s. It was the captain’s. Holding back a groan you padded to the door and looked through the peephole, seeing all four seniors gathered in the hallway.

 Confusion washed over you as you unlocked the door and slowly opened it. Oikawa looked particularly proud of himself, something that had your thighs clenching out of sheer habit. “Oikawa-san? Did something happen?”

 Iwaizumi forced the door open, making you take a step back as all four men walked in, putting down their things in the entryway before Hanamaki closed the door. They deposited their shoes at the doorway before Oikawa gave you some sort of answer. “I hate to do this to you, Cutie, I really do, but there’s something your Captain wants you to do for him.”

 His eyes scoured every inch of your body, making you suddenly feel incredibly self conscious. His tongue swiped over his lips, his facial expression absolutely predatory. Your cunt was already aching at the thought of him pounding into you. “W-What is it?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest.

 Oikawa began to circle around you as you noticed the others begin to slip off their shirts. You swallowed thickly, unable to look away from the sheer amount of tone muscle present before you now. You began to chew on your bottom lip, the taste of your lip gloss crawling onto your tongue. “We decided that we all want a turn with you tonight.” He said, stopping behind you and putting his hands on your hips. He pulled you back to him and you could feel his half-hard cock rutting into your ass as he leaned to speak in your ear. “They don’t think you can handle it, but I can.”

 He pressed a kiss just under your ear, teeth grazing the skin there as you felt the flimsy fabric of the thong dampen with your arousal. All four of them? At once? Your head span as you tried to conceive it, but the captain’s cock grinding into your ass was almost too distracting. He knew exactly what he was doing and you hated him for it. “I don’t think I- Ah!” He bit at your pulse point and you felt her knees begin to tremble from the sheer anticipation of him being inside you.

 One of his beautiful hands moved to push up the lightweight fabric of the baby-doll, his index finger finding your clit expertly and pressing into you with just the right amount of force that had you keening back against him. “Don’t you want to prove them right, my little manager? What happened to all of that ambition?”

 Three pairs of eyes were devouring you as Oikawa continued to press kisses into your throat. They all looked so starving. So      needy    . Who were you to deny your team? Your body was for their taking, that was what you had wanted since you were a freshman right? And now, with Oikawa’s fingers working over your swelling clit, mouth taking claim to your neck, you have no drive to tell them no. There was no chance of you resisting them. You sank into Oikawa’s hold and he knew instantly that you were admitting defeat. You’d take on all four of them, even if it broke you.

 Oikawa dragged you into the bedroom, his right hand never leaving its spot between your legs. When he finally released you, he pushed you gently onto the bed so that he could take off his shirt. The other three came into the room, Makki had already stepped out of his pants and as in nothing but his socks and boxer briefs.

 You turned onto your back, looking absolutely doe-eyed at the large men before you. Again you kept your legs pressed together, rubbing slightly to try and create some kind of friction that would lighten the ache in your core. Out of the corner of your eye you noticed Iwa pull something out of your top drawer, and again you swallowed as you knew there could only be one thing he’d be looking for in there. The black silk blindfold you kept stashed away.

 “Hajime, please,” You cooed softly, feeling fear bubble in your abdomen at being blinded. He ignored your quiet plea, knowing that there wasn’t nearly enough fight behind it to be an actual revocation of consent. He came closer to you, making it easier for you to see the outline of his erection in his pants as he covered your eyes with the cloth and tied it around the back of your head.

 “Good thinking, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa chirped as he took off his pants. “Let’s play a game then, shall we, Manager-san?” He asked, glancing at the other guys. “If you can guess whose dick is in your pretty little mouth then you can get a reward. How does that sound?”

 His irritating voice did nothing but ignite your desires even further. You were pretty certain you knew each of them well enough by now to be able to tell the difference between the four. Besides, Oikawa always held to his word and rewards with him often meant a very intense orgasm.

 You felt a hand grab you by the shoulder and by the softness of it, you assumed it was Oikawa’s. His hands were always the most meticulously kept out of all of them. He forced you to your knees and your mouth opened as you presented your tongue to whoever was first in line.

 Mattsun decided to take initiative, his cock already out as he stroked it. He stepped up to you, guiding the tip into your warm, beckoning mouth. He clenched his teeth together to keep from making any sort of sound that may give him away. Although, he already had a disadvantage. Mattsun was the biggest lengthwise and second only to Iwa when it came to girth.

 He was unable to stop himself from sliding as much in as he possibly could, his tip rubbing the back of your throat as his hand pressed onto the top of your head. His hips rocked slowly, pulling him out a fraction before rutting back in. You swirled your tongue around him, suckling lightly (though it was enough to finally pull a groan from him). You were about to reach up and grab onto his scrotum when Oikawa stopped you. “No touching, Cutie.” He chided and you put your hand back down.

 After a minute of you attempting to work him over without the help of your hands, he pulled from you completely. Oikawa asked you who it was as you were unable to stop yourself from coughing with newfound freedom. After you had collected yourself, you finally answered him with a small smile. “Issei.” You said happily, knowing you were right.

 “Good job.” Mattsun breathed out as he stroked his length to keep it from going soft. “Maybe that was too easy for you, doll.” You shook your head, trying to deny that it wasn’t easy for you to figure it out. None of them believed you.

 The next cock to enter your mouth was slimmer and you quickly narrowed it down to either Makki or Oikawa. They were almost identical, though there was one difference that would give it away. One of them had a small scar at the base of their penis where they had a shaving accident in high school.

 You greedily took him in, drool spilling over your lips and down your chin as your tongue searched every centimeter for the small white line of tissue. You tried to mask what you were doing by sucking and moaning at the small thrusts, the pubic hair at the base ticking your nose as he forced his tip to your throat. He suddenly pulled out, afraid that he wouldn’t be able to restrain himself any longer if he didn’t. “Takahiro.” You said before Oikawa could ask.

 Makki let out a small laugh. “I guess you know me too well, huh?” He asked, not expecting you to actually answer. You smiled, reaching up to rid your chin of the spit that had made its way down it. Though you were somewhat positive that it would be replaced very quickly.

 “Alright, princess, so no one gets left out you’ll do Iwa-chan and I at the same time.” Oikawa said and a small frown formed on your lips. There was no way      both     of them would fit inside of your mouth. How were you supposed to do this without your hands?

 Iwa huffed, obviously not wanting to share your mouth with his best friend but nevertheless not objecting to it. They both stepped before you. “Can I at least use my hands this time, Captain?” You asked, head tilted upwards as if you were looking up at them.

 “Yes, you can use your hands this time.” Oikawa said back, placing a delicate hand on top of your head to rub it soothingly. You were doing such a good job for him and he was making note to make sure you knew that next time you were alone together.

 Again you opened your mouth wide. Oikawa nodded to Iwa who gave a shallow thrust into your mouth. Your hand searched up the leg of the person to your left, finding the shaft of his penis and stroking it. The telltale ribbing of a small scar at the base of it. The same scar you had been searching for when you were blowing Hanamaki. Not only that but Iwa’s girth gave him away. Oikawa was slender and pretty, Iwa was thick and veiny. Telling the two apart was almost like night and day.

 You bobbed your head, keeping the same pace with your hand giving them both a moment to enjoy the sensation before switching sides. You kept one hand on the base of each cock, making it easier to switch quickly between the two. When you had finally set what you thought was the perfect rhythm, a steady hand stopped you. “Who is who?” Oikawa asked in a chipper voice, never one to be upset when his dick was getting serviced.

 “Tooru-kun, you’re on the left.” You said, “Hajime is on the right.”

 Oikawa chuckled, “Wow, what a good little manager you are. You know us all so well. Are you ready for your reward?” You nodded your head enthusiastically. “Alright, get up and lay back on the bed we’re going to take good care of you.

 He grabbed your hand, helping you to your feet and guiding you to the bed where you laid down. He wasted no time in reaching up and grabbing the thin elastic of your thing and sliding it down your legs, enjoying the sight of the middle sticking to your slick folds for a moment before pulling free.

 Mattsun took position to your right, Makki your left, and Iwa was hovering over you, grabbing either of your thighs and spreading them. His calloused hands felt like a stark contrast from Oikawa’s, a feeling that made you shiver and clench around nothing. The blindfold was taken from your eyes at once by Makki.

 Tooru lowered his face to your core, giving you a nice slow cat lick up your slit that had you quaking in Iwa’s grasp. Mattsun forced the top of your babydoll down, freeing your breasts from the see-through material. He ran a thumb over your right nipple while Makki began to kiss along the swell of your left breast.

 Your brain was in overdrive at all the different sensations going on. Oikawa’s tongue pressing into your folds, Iwa’s mouth peppering kisses along your thighs as he held them apart. Matsukawa’s fingers massaging your breast firmly while Hanamaki is sucking hickies into your other one. There was just too much going on, you felt like you were going to short circuit already. Every inch of you was quivering with delight.

 Oikawa latched onto your clit like a leech, sucking so roughly that he pulled a loud moan straight from your throat. Your hips bucked, kegels flexing as you nearly creamed then and there. Iwa bit into your thigh, the pain ripping through your leg. You cried out, trying to squirm out of his grasp but it was of no use. He was stronger than you by a long shot and there was no way you could possibly overpower all four of them at once.

 “T-Toru p-p-p-please!” You cried, tears filling your eyes as Mattsun’s mouth replaced his hand. You just needed something, anything, inside you. You didn’t really care what at this point.

 He removed his mouth from you, a lewd popping sound came as a result. He knew exactly what you wanted, a lecherous smile on his wet lips. “You gonna beg me princess?”

 Your reply came in a whimper, Mattsun’s teeth grazed one nipple as Makki was sucking on your other one, tongue swirling as if he were attacking your clit instead. “I-I need yo-you inside.” You pleaded with him, the desperate need to have your pussy filled growing even more. “Your fin-fingers. Ah!” You tossed your head back as Iwa licked at your clit now. It was hard to concentrate on anything, especially getting the words you wanted out.

 Oikawa was extremely proud of the sight before him. Iwa’s sideways position gave him enough room to slip in two fingers into your throbbing cunt, The long, slender digits going in gently and deeply. “My, my, Manager-san. My fingers are waterlogged in this cute pussy of yours. Are you that desperate to get off?”

 You were unable to respond, too busy concentrating on grinding your hips against Hajime’s mouth and his fingers at the same time. Oikawa pulled his fingers out before inserting them back in, they slid with ease due to the amount of slick that had accumulated between your legs. Your eyes were rolling back, body jerking beneath the three boys that were hovering over you. All coherent thoughts were gone as the team captain because to thoroughly fuck you with his fingers, his vice captain’s tongue tracing fast shapes around your sensitive clit. That along with the two mouths on your chest had you crying and cumming in no time at all.

 Oikawa pulled his soaked fingers from you, inserting them into his mouth to clean them off with his tongue. He savored the taste of your cum, giving a small hum of appreciation at both the taste and the sight of you panting and teary-eyed. “Is our little cum dumpster okay? We haven’t even filled you up yet.”

 The sarcasm of his voice and sudden removal of Iwaizumi’s grip had your legs slamming shut, not wanting anyone to see how turned on you still were. How much you still needed them to satisfy you. The slutty desperation making your heart pound even harder within your chest. How much more of this relentless teasing could you take before breaking completely? You had no idea. “Fill...Fill me up, Captain.” You said between heavy breaths, eyes glossy with saline and want.

 He laughed, “Makki, tonight is supposed to be your night. You can choose what order we go in.” At least Oikawa could be fair when it came to his teammates. Too bad he wasn’t when it came to you.

 Hanamaki thought about it for a moment. “We should switch halves. Mattsun and I will fuck her while you two can have her hands and mouth.” He brushed your hair back, a small smile on his face. “I know she can take it.”

 He maneuvered himself so he was laying next to you so you could climb on top of him. Your teeth sank into your lip again as you positioned his tip at your entrance, slowly lowering yourself down. You couldn’t stop the moan from seeping out between your lips in the process of finally feeling completed. Makki pulled you down by your arm so your chest was against his.

 You hadn’t noticed Mattsun get up and grab the bottle of lube. He generously coated two fingers as he got behind you. He watched as Makki’s dick spread your lips apart, his dick disappearing inside of you in slow shallow thrusts. His own cock was throbbing painfully at this point, begging for release.

 Instead of touching himself, he inserted his two fingers into your ass. You let out a hiss of pain, the muscles burning at the sudden stretch. Hanamaki was whispering sweet things into your ear to help distract you, telling you how good you were doing for him. How amazing your soft pussy felt wrapped around him so tightly while Iwa was positioning himself at your head, stroking his cock is a slow languid motion.

 Oikawa had grabbed his phone and was now recording. He enjoyed nothing better than humiliating you by filming you in compromising positions. Most of the nights alone with him involved some sort of video equipment. Despite being hard and dripping precum onto your carpet, he seemed to totally ignore his erection and focus only on getting the perfect shot of you pleasuring his team.

 Mattsun continued to prep your ass, feeling your muscles beginning to relax around him. Makki kept his rhythm light, not wanting to jostle you around too much while his friend was getting you ready. His hands were on your waist, holding you still as you whimpered. He was being so gentle, too gentle. That wasn’t what you wanted. You were craving Mattsun’s brute force, the little whimpers coming from you only proving how ready you were.

 “Don’t leave her waiting, Mattsun.” Oikawa said. “She wants you to fuck her ass, can’t you see how much she needs it? Little cumslut can’t get off to just Makki treating her like a princess”

 Mattsun tutted, removing his fingers so that he could lube up his cock. Again he watched you take in every inch of Hanamaki like such a good little girl. He spit on your ass, letting it slide down your crack as he pressed his tip into your anus. Hanamaki was still as his friend pushed into you, leaving delicate kisses along your jawline.

 He let out a loud groan as his balls came into contact with your perineum. You fluttered around both of them, taking the moment to adjust to having two dicks inside of you instead of just one. And Mattsun was so big you thought he might rip you apart.

 Iwa was growing impatient, he pressed his tip against your lips and your tongue darted out to taste his precum. He grabbed a fistful of your hair as you opened her mouth fully for him. Makki and Mattsun still weren’t moving yet, simply enjoying the feeling of your body heat warming up their cocks.

 You tried to move your hips to feel something, anything. The neediness growing ever wilder within you. Oikawa watched with great delight, enjoying the muffled torture sounds coming from your mouth as you sucked on Iwa’s dick. “You want them to move, sweetheart?” He asked in a sickly sweet voice that was definitely anything but sincere.

 You whined loudly, despite your mouth being full. You attempted to nod your head but it was slight due to not wanting to hurt Iwa by accident though your teeth did graze him and he gave a warning tug on your locks. You looked up at him with an apologetic expression, gargling out a sorry that wasn’t really comprehensible.

 “You heard her, Matsukawa.” Makki said, his once sweet voice going sly. “She wants us to move.”

 Mattsun laughed darkly as he pulled back slowly before jerking his hips forward, roughly slapping into you. Searing heat and pain caused tears to once again spring to your eyes as Hanamaki began to move in sync with him with an almost equal amount of force. It took a moment for them to stop fumbling awkwardly with one another, trying to find a going pace that worked to both of their advantages. Once they found it though, it was nothing but bliss. Both your pussy and ass being fucked simultaneously while your mouth was stuff full had your eyes rolling back and drool slipping down your chin again.

 “Fuck it’s so tight.” Mattsun moaned, smacking your ass with a harsh slap before rubbing the area. “Why have you never let me fuck your ass before? You’ll be lucky if I ever use that used up pussy again.” He growled at you, making the welling tears finally fall down your face. They dripped down onto Makki, though he didn’t mind much at all.

 Iwa was forcing more and more of himself down your throat, gagging and choking you in the process until you could barely breathe. He was taking the liberty to fuck your mouth, allowing you to simply be another hole for his pleasure instead of an active participate in getting him off.

 Oikawa grabbed one of your hands and wrapped it around his dick. He knew you wouldn’t be able to stroke him due to your fucked out state of stupidity. He moved your hand for you, keeping it steady as he bounced his hips against your grip. “I get that ass next.” He said, “Iwa-chan, you can have Makki’s hole. I want her so full of cum that she won’t stop leaking for a week.”

 Makki increased his pace, forcing Mattsun to do so as well. The two dicks rubbing inside of you have a fast knot tightening in your lower abdomen. The thing that finally did you over was Makki reaching between the two of you and teasing your clit with the pads of his fingers. You were screaming around Iwa, eyes shut tight as you came for a second time, both holes spasming around your partners, pulling moans from them as you sucked them in more. It was enough to drive Makki to his peak as well, releasing inside of your cunt while Mattsun thrusted wildly, the sounds of his balls slapping against you was the loudest thing in the room at the moment. It only ceased when he finally came, pumping your ass so full of semen that it seeped out around his base.

 Iwa pulled his dick from your mouth and throat, allowing you to gasp and sob. You were already so incredibly overstimulated, you couldn’t imagine having to go yet another round. But you knew your captain and vice captain wanted to get off too. Oikawa’s dream of making you the sluttiest little cum dumpster in all of Japan was quickly coming true.

 Mattsun pulled out of you, enjoying the view one last time before stepping back and disappearing into the bathroom to clean up. Iwa moved to the side, ready to fuck you senseless again with growing impatience. Makki took one last breath, gave you one last sweet kiss, before slipping out from under you.

 Oikawa handed his phone to Makki so he could continue to film while he positioned himself under you. With Iwa’s help he had you sitting up and turned around so that your back was to him. “I think Mattsun lubed you up enough, Manager-san, don’t you think?” He asked, tip probing your dripping ass before suddenly dipping into you without warning. You cried out, almost not believing just how easily he slid right in. Since he was a bit smaller than Mattsun, it didn’t hurt at all for him to be inside all at once. The former had stretched you out too thoroughly.

 Iwa also wasted zero time in plugging you up, stopping anymore of Makki’s cum from escaping you. You were still crying and shaking, too overstimulated to say anything that made sense. Unlike Mattsun and Makki, they didn’t need time to sync up into a nice rhythm. They both went in hard and fast, almost competing with one another on who could be the most brutal.

 Oikawa’s hands were on your breasts, pulling at your nipples, “What a good girl, taking your captain and vice captain like this.” He said, holding back his own moans as he whispered into your ear. “Our little good luck charm. My cute little slut, you’ll do anything I ask of you won’t you?”

 Your answer was a strangled moan, throat still sore from Iwa’s previous abuse. You could tell Oikawa was struggling not to cum. Whenever he got too excited he had the tendency to lose control.

 Once again Iwa had a bruising grip on your thighs, keeping them nice and spread so he could easily see his handiwork, watching you take his thick cock as if it were nothing. The squelching sounds you were making had you feeling incredibly embarrassed, the way the previous boys’ cum had acted as lubricant for the two new ones. Oikawa and Iwa were pumping in and out effortlessly, working you over once again.

 “Iwa-chan, but your thumb on her clit, I bet she’ll squirt all over us if you do that.” Oikawa said, nipping at your ear as he tugged on your nipples again. Iwa reached down, pressing his thumb against the engorged bud and rubbing in fast tight circles. Your back arched, more sobs erupting as you felt another overwhelmingly powerful orgasm rip through you. You couldn’t stop the release of ejaculate as it squirted out of you, showering all three of you in the process, though Iwa got the brunt of it.

 Oikawa was laughing harshly, “Fuck princess, you’re just so goddamn dirty aren’t you? You like being stuffed like this? Will you ever be satisfied with just one again?” You shook, collapsed on top of him, unable to make any sound or even think straight. Your walls were still fluttering around him, hips jerking in tune with their thrusts. Iwa’s nails dragged across your skin, the pain not even enough to cause you to yelp like you normally would. A few pumps later and he was adding to the mess with his own cum, the warm liquid filling your pussy so beautifully for him as he pulled out.

 “Best for last.” Oikawa hissed, Flipping over so he could ravage you at a whole new angle. You couldn’t even hold yourself up, he had to do it for you as he rammed into you over and over. He wasn’t holding back anymore, hell you didn’t even know he      was     holding back before. He chased his own high, hitting his peak and pumping you full of even more white creamy liquid.

 He pulled out and gently laid your hips down onto the bed. You cried into the sheets, still feeling jerky from your own string of orgasms. It was over? Finally? You couldn’t believe that you had actually survived all four of them at once.

 Oikawa and Iwa began to clean themselves up as Makki put his captain’s phone away and went to pamper you with kisses. He turned you on to your back and spread your legs just enough so he could clean you up the best he could. Parts of the bed were soaked unfortunately, but Mattsun brought a clean towel to lay down over the puddles, moving you so that you were on top of the towel instead of the wetness.

 “Don’t forget, Makki, make sure she’s up tomorrow for practice.” Oikawa said in that sing-song voice of him. “Maybe we can have a round two in the equipment room.”

 You whimpered in protest as Hanamaki held you close to him. “He’s joking, love, don’t worry.” He whispered to you softly, knowing you were too outdone to do it again so soon.

 Iwa punched his shoulder roughly, “leave her alone, asshole.” He said threateningly, coming over to plant a light kiss on your forehead. “If you can’t come tomorrow, don’t stress it.” He said quietly enough that the only other person to hear him was Makki. He straightened up before shooting a glare at Oikawa.

 Oikawa frowned a bit at him before walking over to you. “Good job, princess. I knew you could do it. You made your captain so proud tonight.” He cooed softly, petting your head. “I’ll call you in the morning to check on you.” He placed a kiss identical to Iwa’s onto your forehead. “Makki is going to take good care of you tonight.” He assured before standing up once more. “Let’s go, Iwa-chan. I’m hungry.”

 The two started bickering as they left. Mattsun cleaned up around the room a little more before, wishing you a farewell before leaving. Hanamaki continued to whisper to you about how amazing you were and how thankful he was for letting them do this. He didn’t stop until you finally lost your battle with sleep, cuddled up next to him and clinging to him for safety.

 And the next day you definitely didn’t show up to practice.

Mobile Masterlist || Request Rules

Tag List: @dabi-hates-fish​, @hawksward​, @drxwsyni​

[renegadewangs]

Van Zieks - the Examination, part 12

Warnings: SPOILERS for The Great Ace Attorney: Chronicles. Additional warning for racist sentiments uttered by fictional characters (and screencaps to show these sentiments).

Disclaimer: (see Part 1 for the more detailed disclaimer.) - These posts are not meant to be taken as fact. Everything I’m outlining stems from my own views and experiences. If you believe that I’ve missed or misinterpreted something, please let me know so I can edit the post accordingly. -The purpose of these posts is an analysis, nothing more. Please do not come into these posts expecting me to either defend Barok van Zieks from haters, nor expecting me to encourage the hatred. - I’m using the Western release of The Great Ace Attorney Chronicles for these posts, but may refer to the original Japanese dialogue of Dai Gyakuten Saiban if needed to compare what’s said. This also means I’m using the localized names and localized romanization of the names to stay consistent. -It doesn’t matter one bit to me whether you like Barok van Zieks or dislike him. However, I will ask that everyone who comments refrains from attacking real, actual people.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

Let's bring this thing home! It's time for the conclusion of the essay series!

Conclusion With a stupidly long essay series behind us, it's time to look at what we've learned! Let's go back to Part 1 and review what we needed from Van Zieks's character development for a fully rounded redemption arc, shall we?

1) Present an antagonistic (possibly immoral) force who personifies Ryunosuke’s biggest personal obstacle/weakness, in this case racial prejudice. 2) Humanizing traits begin to show. OPTIONAL: A backstory to justify any immorality he has. 3) Over time, Barok has his realization and sees the error of his ways. 4) Barok atones for his immorality, not simply through apology but by taking decisive steps. 5) The cast around him acknowledges his efforts and forgives him.

And looking at the main game (plus additional dialogue), we have...

1) Antagonistic force:

Etc. etc. I have many of these. We can all agree that as an antagonistic force, he does his job quite well. CEO of Racism and White Privilege in the flesh. It works, since we as the audience get very frustrated and want to see him defeated.

2) Humanization:

Giving him an old friend to be a defendant was a brilliant move, really. Albert's reflection on the friendship and the person Van Zieks used to be really helped flesh him out and make him appear more like a human being with, y'know, emotions and weaknesses. The little snippets of dialogue in his office really help too. Presenting evidence can also lead to fun tidbits. All in all, considering how gruff and distant Van Zieks is, they really did their very best to humanize him. The writers were given very little to work with but they exploited every opportunity to come their way.

OPTIONAL backstory:

Again, I don't think we needed a tragic backstory to have a well-rounded, redeemable character. Still, it ties in very expertly to the game's plot and the motivations of quite a few other characters. The story of Klint van Zieks and his death isn't necessarily Barok van Zieks's backstory, it's the center of an intricate web which also holds Kazuma, Stronghart, Gregson, Jigoku, (S)Holmes, Mikotoba, Sithe, Drebber- I could go on. A LOT. So because of how very integrated it is into the main narrative's recurring themes and characters, I'll give it props for being relevant and well thought out. The bigger question is: Does it justify his immorality? Not entirely. I think the game could have gotten more out of this if they'd involved the other two exchange students in this tale just a bit more. They could have given more attention to how Jigoku's aggressive behavior in the trial impacted Van Zieks, and explained whether he might've suspected Mikotoba of sabotaging (S)Holmes's investigation. If the narrative had done that, all three Japanese people to come to London would have been ‘the bad guy’ in Van Zieks's eyes and it would have given more credence to his racial generalization. They could have also given more attention to how the people around him reacted to Genshin being the Professor, because I'm sure Stronghart and Gregson stoked the fire in terms of xenophobia. As it stands, there isn't really enough there to justify hatred of an entire race as opposed to just one person.

3) Realization/Redemption

We see him already start to realize the error of his ways around the end of 1-5, which is technically only about halfway into the full narrative. Unfortunately, thanks to 2-2 being played afterwards (but chronologically set before 1-5), any progress made in 1-5 can become invalidated in the player's eyes. Growth works best when it's done linear. Don't get me wrong, flashbacking to earlier times when a character is still more morally tainted can work well, but it needs to be executed properly. Barok's behavior in 2-2 is downright insulting towards the audience itself and therefore, it causes emotional friction when relaying the narrative endgoal of redemption. It also makes it extra jarring when we hit 2-3, and suddenly Van Zieks is meant to be relying on the protagonist's desire to expose the truth. How on earth can we as the audience trust that Van Zieks believes in Ryu's abilities when we just came fresh out of a case where this man actively sabotages Ryu's efforts?

Still, the line of redemption continues from 2-3 into 2-4 well enough. He admits that he was wrong- that his hatred was illogical and that he needs to change. This is the very definition of redemption. I need to stress once more this is not to be confused with atonement, which comes next.

4) Atonement

Here it is. It's not enough to simply acknowledge mistakes; one needs to work hard to fix them. Since Van Zieks is the defendant for two whole episodes, equaling roughly 20% of the full narrative and 67% of the time following his first true realization (chronologically), there isn't much that he can actively do to atone. Because remember, not only do these actions need to fit the situation he's currently in, they need to fit his personality. These two limitations ensure the atonement mostly takes the form of dialogue. Of apologies.

One might want to point out that he never apologizes specifically for his racism, but there's a reason for that. If you pay close attention, you'll notice that there isn't a single character who ever uses a word like “racism”, “xenophobia” or even “racial prejudice” in this game. It's for the same reason you'll never see an Ace Attorney character utter words like “alcoholism”, “drug abuse” or “depression”. These things may be implied very strongly, to the point where you'll know for certain a character is suffering from it, but it's never given these exact labels. It has to do with the tone of the game. In Great Ace Attorney's dialogue, Barok van Zieks is only ever described as holding “a deep hatred for Japanese”, which is then the only thing he could apologize for. And he does, so long as you aren't looking for a literal phrasing of “I apologize for my deep hatred of your people”.

Regardless, he can't take more active, decisive action until he's freed from prison and two scenes with Van Zieks later, the game has ended. He still manages to take two actions, though! The first is to publicize the truth of the Professor, taking the blame of the mass murders off Genshin's shoulders (and losing his own privilege in the process). The second is to take Kazuma under his wing as his disciple. I'm not certain there's anything else the narrative could have had him do. What is decisively missing, however, is the following:

5) Acknowledgment

The above aren't good examples of cast acknowledgment that Van Zieks is taking part in a redemption arc, rather, they're the best I could find. Characters are acknowledging that he's changing- that he's being kinder to them and they can get along with him now, but they're not acknowledging that he caused hurt in the first place. This, in my opinion, is the Great Ace Attorney's biggest narrative flaw. I've talked before about how Ryu's reaction to Van Zieks's racism is 'indirect communication', a typically Japanese manner of dealing with negativity. I've also talked about how Ryu is not in a position to speak up, as he's a literal minority who is there to represent his country in an official capacity and can’t afford to make enemies. However, characters like Susato and Kazuma are far more outspoken in their opinions, as is Soseki. The only one who ever calls Van Zieks out on his racism is the British judge, and even that is done very meekly. When an old crusty white guy is the one who condemns white privilege in a cast full of minorities, you've got a problem. The Japanese cast's refusal to acknowledge that Van Zieks's words were harmful is like Team Avatar telling Zuko that sure, he can join since he's a good guy now, but never once acknowledging that he burned down villages or betrayed everyone's trust in Ba Sing Se. There's something very vital missing, see? If indeed the cast had called Van Zieks out more actively on his harmful ways and how necessary it was for him to change, he in turn could have taken more atonement steps in response.

So, for the conclusion: Does Barok van Zieks tick all the necessary boxes for a complete redemption arc? Yes. In a very technical sense, all the requirements are there. But does that mean it's a successful arc? Not necessarily. The game has a few slip-ups, a few things not executed as well as they could have been. For that reason, whether the audience is satisfied with the arc is entirely up to them. Taking into consideration that they had to cram a whole lot of story into just two games- the second game in particular, I can acknowledge they did their very best with the limitations that were there.

And there we have it! That’s all I could think to say on the matter. I hope everyone who read this till the very end enjoyed it, maybe even learned a thing or two. I’m always open to questions, input and constructive criticism!

[binniesthighs]

in my arms | jisung x reader |

Pairing: self insert, female reader x han jisung 

Genre: fluff n smut 

Warnings: switch!reader, switch!jisung, established relationship, explicit language, oral (m&f giving and receiving), teasing, body praise, pretty dang fluffy ngl, cum swallowing, back scratching 

Word count: 2.3k

this drabble is inspired by jisung’s most recent vlog where he was just chillin’ and being so soft and cozy I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it huhu I hope that you enjoy my first post ever  ♡

“You’re not falling asleep are you?” You gently nudge jisung’s head where it was resting on your shoulder. You didn’t have the heart to tell him, but you had spent the last 20 minutes or so trying to ignore the pins and needles that the weight gave your arm.

“--nO!” He squeaked, then rather sleepily rose his head leaving you to try to shake your arm back to life in the least conspicuous way possible.

“I though you said that this was your favorite movie?” You brushed a few rogue strands of his warm brown hair out of his eyes, letting your fingers linger for a moment to savor its addictive softness.

Jisung pouted while he fixed his baggy white tee collar which had fallen under his collarbones. His eyes didn’t catch you sneaking a peak.

“I wouldn’t sleep through my favorite movie.”

“Really?” You cocked an eyebrow up with a growing smile, meeting his eyes which had become as baggy as his shirt.

“Didn’t I tell you? I’m pretty sure that I know every line from that movie; I used to watch it all the time growing up.”

You chuckled a little at his oh-so-common habit of forgetting the little things. “I’m pretty sure you have told me that before.”

“And I told you how I wanted to learn the piano song as well? And--”

“--and it was too hard for you to learn?” You snickered, “You’ve told me that as well. Someone’s sleepy brain needs to get some rest...can you put the laptop over on the desk for me real quick?”

“Sure.” He nodded, and tore off the fluffy down comforter off of the two of you. You had wished that he had given a warning considering the sudden blast of cold air that met your bare legs when he did so. At the same time, you could never stay mad at him for long, not when he looked like that.

Jisung looked perfectly cuddly in that moment--even more so than usual. His long white tee made it look like he wasn’t wearing his boxers at all, and his hair was perfectly tussled into an adorable looking mess from resting on you. You looked down to his legs and all you wanted was to have them entangled with yours. He turned to return back to bed when you noticed that the little mole on his right collarbone had made an appearance. You made a note to give it a kiss as soon as you got the chance.

As soon as Jisung was back in the bed where it was all toasty, everything felt right again. “Reach the light?

“M’kay.” You answered to twist the switch.

Once all of the lights were off, the two of you sunk into each other, completely wrapped up as close as you possibly could be, skin on skin, the softness of fabric; you could feel him gently breathing from where he had pulled your head into his chest.

He sighed deeply, exhaling. You were half expecting him to concede and tell you that he really was feeling tired, when he whispered the exact opposite. “Well now that I’m awake I can’t fall back asleep.”

“But I thought you said you weren’t sleeping...?” You let out a breathy laugh which made him draw you in closer.

“Shhhh.” He hushed. Jisung then took his hands to the back of your head where he began to play with your hair, massaging your scalp slightly. The sensation was amazingly relaxing and you started to feel your own eyes grow heavy...

You whispered into the dark room, “Mmm that feels so nice.”

“Y/n?”

“Yeah?”

“I...heh...don’t get mad at me for this one but...I’m kind of...you know...”

You pulled your head back, knowing exactly what he meant.

“Right now?”

“...yeah.”

“Is there like a reason, or something? I mean, I wasn’t really doing anything--”

“--There doesn’t need to be a reason...honestly.” Even in the dark of the room you could feel his little nervous smile. “But I mean, we’re in bed, and I’ve got you: so soft and warm all around me, in my arms...are you surprised? You just do that to me.” Jisung’s hand migrated over to rest on your cheek, carefully caressing it with his thumb.

The more that he talked about it, the more you lost yourself in him...as usual. He really had an effect on you as well. You suddenly became even more aware of your legs intertwined and the pressure it created.

“We don’t have to, or-or we could keep it short, I know that you have work tomorrow.”

“Are you trying to convince me to mess around with you right now?” You asked with a creeping smirk in the corner of your mouth.

Jisung shied his head away slightly. “Kind of.”

Upon his words you felt it. Down where you had nearly straddled your legs around him, he was growing harder and you could feel him lightly throbbing. It was a lot to show just for talking.

His breaths quickened and he pulled your head in closer to his, ghosting his lips over yours letting his hot breath tickle your skin. You knew that he was aching to touch you, and you, him.

Jisung whispered on your lips, “Do you want to?”

Your response was quickly given to him when you crashed your lips into his, and he returned with so much hunger, you could have thought that he hadn’t been kissed in months--but of course that wasn’t true. The truth was you could never keep your lips off of him. He knew what it was like and how diligent you could be, making sure that he was covered in them, nothing untouched, and it drove him crazy.

You swung your leg over his hip, and pulled him into you with your thigh as he grabbed a huge handful of your skin to steady himself. His fingernails dug into you with a delightful sting, and you kept working on his mouth, dragging your lips over his both slow and fast, whatever he wanted, it was what you did. Your tongues met in the middle of the heat and slicked over each other with a taste that sent you reeling. Jisung moved his hands to your back where they snuck up your shirt and he traced gentle lines all over. To sweeten it all, you grinded down into his lap, seeking a sensation that your now soaked underwear craved.

“--fuck.” Jisung gasped into your mouth.

He hastily tugged your shirt to the side, lending eager hands to fondle your breasts while his lips never left yours. He had decided to slow down his pace a little bit as he ran over your mouth more, being careful like he didn’t want to scare you. His fingers started to twist your nipples lightly and they quickly hardened. Below your hips, your whole core started to whine with desire for the warmth of his mouth to give it attention. Jisung pinched your bud just right, and it sent you gasping for air against him.

“You like that?” He jested for a second, even you could still see his bright smile in the darkness of the room.

You nodded quickly, hoping he would keep going if you said less.

“God.” He marveled at you for a minute. “You’re just so--”

“--Are you about to say something cheesy Han Jisung?” You lifted your arms to trace the outlines of his shoulder blades behind him, giggling.

“You’re everything.” He leaned down to plant a kiss on your forehead before letting his hands get back to work. He buried his head into your neck, fluttering kisses everywhere that he could only pausing to suck lightly. “You’re...my...everything.” He got out between kisses.

“You’re my...Jisung...” You tugged at his back while he kept flicking your sensitive buds between his fingers. When he was doing so you couldn’t keep your thoughts straight. You wanted so badly to tell him a million words and more about how he was your whole world too, but all you could manage was, “Please...more.”

“You want more baby?”

“Ye--”

He swooped down to bring his mouth to your hard bud, twisting his tongue around it while he cupped it too. With his tongue flat he looked up to you with his gorgeous brown eyes. From how good he was at just this, you could feel yourself getting closer by the second. Your legs crossed tightly to try and relieve some of the pressure. You scraped your nails up his back, getting impatient and eliciting a low groan from him.

“I’m ready.” You prompted and he immediately knew what you wanted, you didn’t even have to say a word.

Jisung cascaded kisses down your stomach, giving some well planned ones to your waist when he got there to give special attention the the stretch marks there. Ever since you had mentioned not liking them, he couldn’t keep his lips off them.

“Gorgeous.” He calmly said, and settled between your thighs.

Your body jerked when he took his thumb to lightly rub circles into your clit, bringing little moans and gasps from your lips. Jisung mischievously snickered to himself over the power that he held over you. He would stop rubbing every few seconds just to hear you whine. At last he pulled your underwear from your legs and you felt the touch of his fingers directly on your clit; he used his other hand to pull your leg back, digging into it like before and it made your whole body shiver. At this point, you had absolutely no control over the sounds coming from your mouth. Wherever he touched, you felt electric.

He darted his pointed tongue around your clit in circles, then would switch to lapping at it agonizingly slow. Over time, your whimpers became more and more desperate.

“Do you wanna cum?” He asked with cockiness laced in his voice.

Your thighs had began to shake without warning. “Ye-yes.”

“Then do it. Cum for me.” Jisung commanded, returning back to his work.

Your mind went completely blank once your orgasm hit you hard. It came it waves, and it only made you shake harder.

After a little chuckle in spite of himself, he brought himself back up to give you more kisses, holding your face is his hands once again.

You came down, feeling more energized than before, and even more desperate to do one thing.

“Your turn.” You commanded of him now, shoving him to his back, leaving a surprised look on his adorably squirrel-like face.

You hastily pulled his shirt up to ravage his chest with your mouth, dragging your burning lips all over the skin and tasting every bit of him that you could. From the sensation he appeared to melt into the bed, taking in shaky inhales while he tangled his fingers in your hair. Just a bit farther down, he was still throbbing under his boxers.

“You ready?” You quickly asked, and he nodded back, teeth catching his bottom lip.

He helped you snag off his boxers, revealing his dripping member pink and ready. You thought to yourself how it just was just so fucking cute when he was excited like that. Instinctually your mouth started to gather with saliva. You decided to use your hand first, pumping it slow and hard, just as you knew that he liked it.

“oh shit--” He moaned out. The words got caught a little in his throat, and that only made him sound even more heavenly.

His eyes were closed, but yours were drawn to him as you kept going. Watching him like this made you feel a surge of confidence that was like a drug. You could do this to him.

“m-more.”  

“Look who is asking for more now?” You grinned.

“Y/n. please. You’re driving me fucking crazy.” His grip tightened on your head.

“You want it like this?”

Without a warning you brought your mouth down to the tip and started licking around it in long strokes and bringing it in just slightly, you didn’t want him feeling all of you just yet.

“oh god.”

“Feels good?”

“Yes. Fuck yes. Just--keep going.”

You teased him for just a little longer than you usually did, just to see what would happen. Of course you should have expected, the longer you waited, the more of a mess he became.

“Y/n, fuck, please.”

You finally caved. “Well since you asked so nicely.”

You brought your head all the way down, taking him completely in and squeezing with your hand just as hard. You hollowed your throat down to take in as much of him as you could without gagging: over the past few months you had perfected it.

“shit-I’m close.” Jisung hissed and buckled his hips.

You took his announcement as an indicator to speed up, so you did. Jisung’s moans and frustrated sighs fueled you further with how beautiful and downright erotic as they sounded. When he came it was unreal, his breaths were so fast one after the other it was almost like he was suffocating with his own pleasure. You held him firmly in your mouth as he finished throbbing, not sacrificing one drop.

As soon as he had a moment to breathe, he pulled you back into his arms and attacked you with kisses all over your face, it didn’t matter where; he was smiling through every one of them. He would pull back then to admire you one more time and your hair which was now in knots thanks to his grip from before.

“that was...”

“Amazing?”

“Yes.” He grinned and gave you a peck to your forehead. “And now I’m tired. I guess we succeeded in more ways than one.”

The two of you put your clothes back on from the light of phone flashlights then crawled back in, sweeping the comforter over top of you once again.

“Jisung?” you nuzzled into him, inhaling his comforting scent all around you.

“Mmm?”

“You’re my everything too.”

[bemylord]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ꜱᴀᴛᴏʀᴜ x ᴍᴇɢᴜᴍɪ.

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ: ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ᴍᴇɢᴜᴍɪ ʀᴇꜰᴜꜱᴇꜱ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴜᴄᴋ ꜱᴀᴛᴏʀᴜ'ꜱ ᴄᴏᴄᴋ, ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴀᴛᴏʀᴜ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇꜱ ʜɪꜱ ᴍɪɴᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ʙʟᴏᴡᴊᴏʙ.

warnings: aged up, oral, gagging, semi-public [?], nipple play, teacher x student.

m.list ◦ original work [russian language] w/c: 1.2k credit pic.

all of the characters in this scene are of legal age. i only changed the character of megumi a little bit. if you don't like this kind of relationship - i am not forcing you to read.

- i'm not gonna suck your dick here!

- come on, baby boy, don't be shy.

megumi crossed his arms over his chest, turning his torso away from the annoying teacher, whose relationship with him has moved to a more romantic stage - lovers. satoru is annoying and pesky in terms of intimacy: he loves to say dirty phrases in his student's ear, watching as a slight blush covers megumi's cheeks.

megumi, even though he tells him to stop stroking his thigh, melts, tries to squeeze into the wall behind him, to dissolve or fix, just so this pervert doesn't see his boner. satoru has a blindfold on his face, but even though the cloth he can feel how tight his student's school pants become, how his palms sweat and his face turns red.

- i'm gonna show you how to do it, gumi-gumi, - satoru swiftly removes the timid boy's pants, deftly running his fingers over the head to the balls, feeling the wet spot on the material of the underwear, as if playing with the member, passing his palm over the erupting penis.

megumi exhales noisily, immediately placing the outer part of the hand to quell the moans which are escaping from his mouth. he feels as the teacher pulls down his boxers, exposing megumi's hard cock.

his mind telling him about the insecurities and the safety of his honor, while another side of the mind, where the lust and passion are making the debauch, mutters: look down, megumi, your teacher is kneeling, willingly ready to suck your dick.

and fuck its arousal.

megumi is hesitant or asks for more as he would be embarrassed to be called a needy boy by satoru, because he's the one, who would never allow a blowjob in the class.

he quietly purrs as he feels satoru's tongue outlining the head, tracing over the frenulum, teasingly running his tongue down the base, caressing the testicles and up to the head. the sorcerer smirks, looking up to catch megumi's confused gaze, as the boy pulling his white hair to the cock.

the teacher obediently lets the organ into his warm mouth, wrapping the cock around and sucking it properly, pushing the entire cock all the way down to the uvula. the tip of his nose touched the megumi's pubic hair and he doesn't hold back, letting out a guttural moan.

satoru's pads are stroking the hips, one palm is rising higher to play with the hard nipple, swirling the pea between his slender fingers, pressing down, causing megumi to drop the sweet and involuntary whimper, pushing into his mouth deeper.

- i'm not gonna suck your dick here, - satoru mocks megumi with his own phrase, taking his cock back inside the warm mouth, guiding the muscle on the glans and veins. fushiguro is melting, trying to find support in the strong forearms.

megumi is always so malleable : once satoru has touched his member with the tongue, when gumi becomes a lovable kitten for his master.

satoru is playing with one nipple, his other hand is intertwined with megumi's one when the student is struggling to compensate for his sighs, every time he felt the nose is touching his pubic - satoru always knows how to suck properly.

gojo moves his head faster, sensing his cock is throbbing in the mouth as his strong and powerful student turned into the submissive, velvety boy who needs a release so badly, needs to feel his teacher licking his lips, licking off the rest of the liquid.

this thought is overwhelming his clarity, for megumi is incapable of thinking that anyone could catch them fucking in a class.

- don't restrain yourself, my baby boy, - satoru swirled the nipple between rugged fingers, feeling as his lover's dick pulsing, drawing the mouth into the white color.

megumi pulls away, pressing his soft and a post-orgasmic feeling overwhelms him as he closed his eyes. satoru licks himself, swallowing the salty liquid, placing his hands on fushiguro's shoulders. - baby.

although, satoru gojo - is the master of provocation. he leans over to his student's ear, guiding the muscle over an auricle, nudging his boner: he rubs his cock against megumi's one and he loves the sudden pitying whimper as fingers connected two cocks simultaneously, stroking organs without delay.

fushiguro is aware of what his lover driving in, kneeling in front of his thick, pulsative cock, dreaming to go home soon, getting a continuation on the soft bed.

he wanted to touch the pink head that beckons just by the view of the pretty glans, but the cursed energy held him back.

the boy tossed his head to find out why gojo is restraining him from a blowjob, meeting his heavenly eyes. gojo is gazing slyly on his boy, raised the eyebrow up with a mute question: did i allow you?

a crafty smile is decorated his face as megumi furrowed brows to have a chance to taste a precum on the head. he tries again to repeat the same movements but everything is even [?]

- you wanna hear it, sensei? - the sorcerer nodded, anticipating the voluptuous phrase. he overheard the doomed sigh as he watches megumi opened his mouth widely, making puppy dog eyes. - daddy, please, use my mouth.

how could satoru say no, when his baby boy is kneeling in front of him with, sticking out the pink tongue, ready to be used?

the teacher placed the glans on the megumi's tongue, allowing him to draw indecipherable gestures on the overstimulated member, tasting the precum. gumi's hands in the flash being pinned above his head as another hand satoru clenches his fist in his hair, to make sure he won't run away, as if megumi wants to.

the student compliantly relaxed his throat, trying to bring a similar pleasure to his teacher, but his cock is too big, too thick for megumi's mouth to take the whole length. the tears begin to appear in his eyes and the desire to push away satoru intensifies, but what can he do for gojo?

he tries to accept the full length, bringing his eyebrows to the bridge of his nose, watching the teacher lick his lips, his head tilted back in ecstasy: too. too good.

megumi feels as satoru is fucking him relentlessly as if it is their last time. satoru wiped out the falling tears, gently tracing circles on megumi's wet and ruddy cheeks with a thumb, giving himself to the sensations.

megumi is always swallowed the sperm after oral sex, licking the head for the authenticity that his lover has given him all the salty liquid, not sparingly spread light, airy kisses along the entire length as a thank you.

- my good boy, gumi, you did a very good job by taking the whole length, - he helps him to stand up, picking his lover up in his arms, kissing his lips. - daddy will do everything for you, baby.

[cherrysung]

attention

pairing: nerd!jaemin x reader

genre: smut

warnings: language, unprotected sex (stay safe!), deepthroating, oral (m. receiving), creampie, choking, fingering, dirty talk, slight degradation

prompts: none

summary: innocent and harmless to the eyes of everyone else, the quiet boy sitting next to you couldn’t stand your impatience anymore. maybe another lesson needed to be taught.

requested by @jjuullnnaayyaa.

word count: 2.5k

note: I hope you like this! this is the second part (requested) to my first nerd!jaemin scenario, which you can check out here! also, @glossyjaems have fun lmao

cherrysung’s navigation

“Stop it.”

“Stop what? I’m not doing anything.”

Clenched jaw and threatening, narrowed eyes, Jaemin could only spare your mischievous smile a short glance before turning his attention back to the boring teacher in front of you. She spoke about some physics formulas and confusing projectile motions, yet although your focus seemed to be directed with full interest at her explanations, it was far from that. Instead, while you stared at the white board covered in multiple doodles, your hand rested not so innocently on Jaemin’s thigh. All under the desk and for nobody else to see.

You scribbled down the long formulas on your notebook in an unbothered nature, left hand moving slowly in up and down motions on your desk partner’s thigh, occasionally squeezing and teasing to reach unholy areas. Jaemin appeared to be sucking in ragged breaths, the spectacles sitting on the bridge of his nose slightly sliding down due to the increasing perspiration on his face.

He looked nervous, angered even. Gritting his teeth or biting on his lower lip as your hand gradually moved higher and closer to the growing bulge inside his beige dress pants.

The two of you had been seeing each other for a considerable amount of weeks now, thankful that a simple tutoring session was enough to kick off your current relationship; date after date, you always picked up a new characteristic from his reserved personality, only adding to your belief that really—not all is what it appears to be. Despite the fact Jaemin was in reality a freak and nothing like the nerd he had come to be recognized as, he was still fairly shy, and had struggled big time to ask you to be his girlfriend. Stumbles and stutters had been leaving his lips infinitely until you kissed him and spared him the work, answering his timid question with a simple yes.

His breath abruptly hitched, hands roughly gripping onto the desk’s edge and pencil when you curiously palmed his hardened cock. The muscles on his thighs were flexed, Adam’s Apple bobbing up and down as he forcefully swallowed with nervousness and want.

“Stop that. You know what I’m talking about.” He whispered, eyes still fixated on the class before the two of you whilst using his free hand to grip yours gently and stop it from further movements. “What’s with you? We’re in the middle of class, we need to pay attention or we won’t understand anything afterwards.”

You smiled, admiring his control and obedience. Leaning closer to his ear, you whispered anyways, “but the only one I want to pay attention to is you. Jaemin, I want to fuck you.”

In a bold move, you guided his hand under your plaid skirt and towards your soaked heat, moving your flimsy underwear to the side to run his index finger through your wet folds.

Jaemin cursed under his breath, tongue swiping swiftly on his bottom lip as he lowered his head so the teacher wouldn’t notice the slight pink tint that had flushed warmth into his cheeks. His fingers started moving on their own, thumb rubbing your clit gently before plunging two fingers into your dripping hole. You allowed him to continue the discrete assault on your pussy as you brought your hand back to its previous position—his dick. Experimentally, you unbuttoned his pants with only one hand, taking his hard member out after he had obediently raised his hips to lower down the fabric of his black underwear.

He continued to pump his fingers in and out of your cunt at an average pace, unable to move them any faster due to the little space between you and the desk. Still, he didn’t fail to please you, curling them and hitting your sensitive spot successfully with no trouble whatsoever. Meanwhile, you stroked his length slowly and tightly, using the precum leaking from the tip to coat his dick. All of this while he innocently rested his chin on his hand, mindlessly nodding at whatever the teacher said and as you pretended to listen, now writing random things on your notebook, because you weren’t bothered enough to actually keep scribbling down notes from the subject.

“So, Na Jaemin, what do we do next? Give a brief explanation too.” The teacher spoke up, all heads turning your way and prompting both your movements to halt for a moment. Though, it didn’t take long for them to resume, as if twenty-eight eyes weren’t situated on the boy next to you. If only they knew what was happening underneath the metal table.

Jaemin fixed his glasses, and you could only widen your eyes in annoyance at how fast his demeanor changed, gaze turning shy and cheeks still warm from your ministrations; but, fingers reaching deeper while his thumb returned to caressing your sensitive bub. “You move the number three to the other side of the formula,” he spoke with confidence, hips involuntarily jolting up slightly when your thumb swiped for a little too long on his tip. “The reason why you have to do this, is to actually get the formula working. Otherwise, the answer will be unobtainable.”

“That is correct.” The teacher nodded with a small smile. “Thank you, Na Jaemin. I didn’t expect any less from my best student, anyways.”

For about ten more minutes, the lesson carried on at an extremely boring and deathly pace, the sound of markers coming into contact with the board and quiet complaints from students the only things that could be heard between the four, dull white walls. Jaemin and you had resorted to torturing each other in the form of teasing, unwilling to have any type of release underneath a dirty school desk.

The bell rang, signaling the end of the lesson as the two of you stopped your actions immediately. You swiftly fixed your skirt, and Jaemin made sure to zip his pants back up only after quickly licking his fingers clean from your essence while gazing deeply with desire into your eyes.

“Class, you’re dismissed.”

You stood up a ridiculously desperate pace, only to be pulled back down onto your seat by Jaemin. “What the fuck! Jaemin, I’m horny, let’s leave.” Your threats came out in a whisper, but they were enough to bring a sinister smile to Jaemin’s features.

“Don’t worry, I have a better idea.” He waited for the last pair of students to leave the classroom, watching as the teacher stood with her bag, hands holding onto her homemade lunch. She walked carelessly towards the door, steps coming to a halt upon noticing the two of you were still glued to your seats.

“Guys? It’s lunchtime, why are you still here?”

Jaemin took out his calculus textbook along with his calculator, placing the items on the table before pointing at them and then at you. “Could we stay here? She’s having trouble with Inverse Trigonometric Functions and we have calculus class after lunch break. We thought it’d be a good idea to stay here practicing just to warm up.”

She pondered for a few seconds, before nodding her head. “Sure, but if you get hungry don’t hesitate to go to the cafeteria, okay? It’s always better to avoid an empty stomach. Good luck and work hard!”

With that, she left, softly closing the door after praising the two of you for being such ‘dedicated students’. Jaemin chuckled quietly before locking the classroom door, walking back to the table and pulling you up rapidly, wasting no time in locking lips with you after having to put up with your endless teasing for an entirety of forty-five tedious minutes.

You held tightly onto his shoulders as he walked you backwards until your back hit a wall, taking advantage of the gasp that escaped your lips to kiss you deeper, tongue fighting with your own as his hands roamed with lust all throughout your body. He unbuttoned your blouse just enough to free your tits, pulling your bra down as his fingers pinched your nipples playfully. Jaemin swallowed your moans, turning the both of you around so his back was pressing against the wall now, rubbing your shoulders tenderly before pushing you down to your knees.

“You were so naughty today, weren’t you? I thought you had already gotten a well deserved lesson taught? Seems like you didn’t learn shit, my dirty princess. Should I be harder on you?”

A whimper left you as you kneeled on the cold, tiled flooring, looking up at Jaemin obediently as he lovingly tucked your hair behind your ears. He released his throbbing cock from his undergarments, right hand bringing your locks up into a makeshift ponytail before pushing your head closer to his leaking shaft.

“Do you have make-up removal wipes here?” He simply asked, free hand pumping his member as he looked down at you with hooded eyes.

You nodded.

“Then we’re fine. Open your pretty mouth, doll.”

You listened to his demand right away, mouth opening with your tongue slightly sticking out as Jaemin placed his cock on top of the warm muscle, breathing instantly becoming irregular. In a rapid motion that caught you off guard due to no warning given beforehand, he roughly thrusted his hips forward, dick reaching the back of your throat unexpectedly as you gagged, fighting the urge to cough out as his actions became consecutive and merciless.

He successfully caressed the depths of your throat experimentally, the outlines of his member occasionally showing whenever you were able to avoid the need to gag. His low grunts resonated throughout the empty classroom, fucking your mouth ruthlessly until tears mixed with black mascara were running down your face uncontrollably and your throat burned as it begged for an inexistent break.

His movements only slowed when his dick twitched, hand forcing you down onto his cock ‘till your nose was pressed against his tummy once last time before letting you go, gasps and coughs desperately leaving your lips in an instant as you attempted to catch your breath. Jaemin let out an exhale and pulled you back to your feet once again, swiftly wiping the black tears from your cheeks as he admired your reddened eyes. He wordlessly asked if you were fine, smiling gently when you nodded your head.

“Come here.” He guided you towards the teacher’s desk—again, giving you no time to process what was happening before he had pushed your upper body down, chest and cheek pressed onto the polished wood while his hand rested on your back. He pushed your skirt upwards, the fabric bunching up at your waist as he moved your pink panties to the side.

Your glimmering cunt stared back at his intense gaze, juices now running down your inner thighs after enduring the attack of his fingers with no room for release. He ran the tip of his dick up and down your folds teasingly, breath hitching while whines escaped you.

“Jaemin, please.” You whispered, mind unable to think of anything else but the feeling of his shaft caressing your pussy.

“What, princess? What do you want? Use your words.”

“Please, fuck me. Fuck me hard, so hard I won’t be able to focus the rest of the lessons. Fuck me so hard I will keep my hands to myself during class next time I feel like a little slut.”

“Good choice and wording, love. We only have about… ten minutes left before lunch break ends, so let’s make this worth it. Let me fuck the whore out of you, alright?”

No more words said, he rammed into you, setting a ferocious and reckless pace right away as your frail body lunged forward weakly with every fierce thrust that he delivered. The tip of his dick kissed at your sweet spot every time, eliciting gasps and whimpers from you that only served to help Jaemin increase his already inhumane speed.

“You like that right?” He gritted out. “This is what you wanted all along, right? You were so desperate for my dick that you couldn’t wait until we got home; no, you just had to touch me in the middle of a lesson. What a dirty doll you are.”

He continued to pounce into you, thrusts never decreasing in rhythm as he pulled you up close to his chest by your hair, free hand circling around your neck before squeezing lightly. You let out a particularly loud sound of pleasure, hands shooting up to rest on Jaemin’s much bigger one, silently begging him to keep the hold on your neck.

A surprised chuckle left his lips, hand squeezing once again as your walls clenched around him, tightly engulfing his dick deliciously. He moaned, head falling to your shoulder before biting gently onto the skin, sucking and then soothing the burning feeling with a slight swipe of his wet tongue. Whispering dirty things into your ear, you whined as his words swirled chaotically in your mind; promises of what more he’d do to you once you were alone and praises of how good you felt drowning you.

You felt his member twitch inside of you, thrusts gradually becoming sloppier by the moment. The grip on your neck became stronger, nearly preventing you of all ability to breath.

“J-Jaemin, I’m close!”

“Yes, princess, go ahead and let go. I want to feel you. Go ahead and cum all over my dick.”

Jaemin softly nibbled on your earlobe, the action enough to bring you to your climax. Your cunt clenched unstoppably around his shaft, juices mixing along with his as he reached his release as well, cum filling your walls to the brim through white, warm strings. His hips abruptly halted, dick still buried deep inside you while the two of you attempted to catch each other’s breaths.

Upon the loud sound of the bell ringing through the classroom and school halls, you both fixed yourselves in record time. After zipping up his pants, Jaemin helped you button up your shirt, fingers collecting his juices that had trickled down from your pussy before inserting the milky substance inside of you once again and arranging your underwear back in place, your legs shaking at the oversensitivity. He smirked and cupped your heat, eyes twinkling at the squeal that left your lips. “Keep that in you until we return back to my house.”

Quickly, he was able to unlock the door on time as the two of you now sat at your assigned desk, while Jaemin softly wiped off the black stains of mascara from your cheeks.

“Oh my God, what happened? Why is she crying?” The teacher asked worriedly the moment she stepped into the classroom.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Jaemin smiled sweetly at the elderly woman, “she became angry because she couldn’t get the topic, so angry that she started crying.”

“Oh, sweetie,” she smiled at you with pity, “you’ll get it soon! Don’t be too hard on yourself.”

“I know right! I told her the same thing.” Jaemin giggled, aware of the strong glare you sent his way. “Don’t worry, though, I promised her I will keep teaching her the lesson after school.” He smiled innocently, eliciting coos from the teacher who had been unaware of the slightly harsh pat that he delivered to your sensitive heat.

You gulped, rubbing your thighs together at the feeling of his cum still sitting in the depths of your walls, and the intrigue of what else he would ‘teach’ you behind closed doors.

[star-killer-md]

To the lovely anons that sent me these asks and to everyone else who has been so amazing and supportive of my writing this past year, I love you dearly and enjoy. Happy New Year!

Part 1

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: slight pain kink if you squint, piv sex, oral sex f receiving, I mean there is angst cause it’s my brand these days, but also somewhat soft Kylo, somewhat, not really a warning but no pronouns for reader but they’re afab

Ship: Kylo Ren x Reader

Kylo Ren hasn’t seen you in over a month. 

So when he exits the ship and finds you standing amongst the landing teams ready to begin their maintenance protocols, he falters just a bit. 

You only look at him once and your gaze is nearly indiscernible. The hand holding your clipboard is bandaged tightly. 

He knows he has to report to the Supreme Leader immediately, knows that he does not have the luxury of trailing you as your figure fades into the crowd of pilots and troopers, and it eats at him the rest of the day. 

Kylo’s quarters are a welcome sight as the cycles change and artificial lights begin to dim. Part of him, rather foolishly, expects to find you lounging on his sofa or relaxed and waiting in the sea of black sheets on his mattress. More predictably, he returns to the rooms resolutely empty and free from signs of any habitation during his absence. He tries not to let that thought spiral, not to convince himself to hunt you down and drag you back himself. 

No, he needs you to come here of your own volition. 

He knows how much sweeter you’ll taste when your will is broken and you are full of want. 

It does not take long. 

A little less than an hour after the shifts change, he hears the doors to his quarters slide open and the soft sound of footsteps on durasteel. 

There you are, he thinks, and feels lighter for it. 

The room seems as though it's holding a breath as Kylo wanders back out to the entrance and sees you standing in his doorway. The walls sigh when you toss your uniform jacket to the side and toe off your boots. Your eyes are alight and he loves the flames behind them.

Kylo trails his gaze up your legs to your hips and chest, pausing only to glance at your throat—it's bare of any marks, but he will fix that soon enough. He has been hungry for so long, starving for flesh to yield in his grasp and afraid it never would again. 

No words pass but they are not necessary. 

You forgive him in the way you close the distance between your bodies. In the way you place your hands steadily on his shoulders and let his arms hoist you up in his grasp. In the way your ankles lock over the curve of his ass without hesitation as he walks you both back to his bedroom. 

The fabric almost melts away wherever Kylo touches you, like the stardust that makes up every piece of the galaxy could not bear to stand between your skin and his. You look so good like this. 

Splayed out, perfect outlines of your form reflected in the viewports. 

But it is your face that does him in. 

Creased with desire, lip bitten bloody between your teeth in an attempt to hold back your desperation. 

Kylo would never understand why you bother trying to hide how badly you wanted him. In a matter of minutes he’d have you a crying, moaning, bruised and battle-scarred mess beneath him. Just the way he knows you need. 

The way he needs 

He settles over you, thick thighs like cage bars on either side of your hips and his leaking cock leaving a smear of precum along your stomach. Just seeing how far along your belly it rests makes his jaw tense, as the flair of desire sparks under the skin of his chest. You reach up slowly with your hand in its bandage to press light fingerprints into the flush below his collarbone. The pink skin turns white as the blood rushes from under your fingers and leaves a quickly fading imprint of your hand on his flesh. 

You watch, lips parted and eyes glassy as Kylo catches your hand in his and squeezes it through the rough material. He doesn’t stop until you let out a quiet hiss and close your eyes against the sting of straining joints. Keeping the pressure steady, just on the verge of popping, his lips brushed across your knuckles in a soft, half-formed kiss. 

He would always hurt you, but some part of you would always like it. 

After your eyes fly open—catching on his mouth reverently at your fingers—any semblance of composure vanishes. 

You are simply bodies from that point forward, and one he knew almost as well as his own. Your tongues dance against each other, slipping along the crooked edges of his teeth as you drink him down. He paints wet stripes along your neck, biting hard at the joining of your shoulder and sucking the warm flesh into his mouth until the blood vessels break and you are marked for him once again. 

There is a certain taste to your skin that he will never tire of. 

It coats his mouth as he sucks your nipple and rolls it between his teeth. It’s on his teeth as he slides down your body and licks up the length of your cunt. That sweet, sharp, biting flavor that drips from his chin as he brings you to completion again and again on his tongue with his nose nudging your clit each time. 

And it floods all his senses the second he sinks his length into you. 

Your legs are cinched up around his waist, hands clawing down his back and surely leaving marks of your own as he drives into you to the hilt. He’s got his head tilted down so he can watch the way his cock splits you, fills you so completely, so painfully and perfectly. Your body was made for him, he knows it, feels it just as he feels the Force in his bones. 

Kylo Ren is not a man who asks for forgiveness, but he cannot find another way to describe the snap of his hips or the circling of his thumb on your clit. 

He cannot lose the feel of you like this—wanting him and taking all he has to give—and so he will offer this up in hopes of absolution. Lace you with pleasure until you are drunk on him and always stumbling back into his arms. Your walls are hot and wet and clenching around him and his resolve shatters when his name leaves your lips. 

With a rush of clacking teeth and growls, he locks your mouths together again and swallows down all the cries of your release. His cock twitches and his hips stutter in their ruthless rhythm as he pours rope after thick rope of cum into your fluttering pussy. 

You let him fold into you, never utter a complaint about being crushed under his weight. 

He likes that about you. 

You never complain, just take what he gives graciously. 

And when he rolls to the side, Kylo lets his eyes drift shut while he listens to you pant beside him. The room is steamy warm and he is sore in the most pleasing of ways. You do not leave and try to forget the feel of him dripping slowly down your thighs, and that puts him at ease for just a moment. 

A simple moment. 

Where you want him and he wants you. 

And there are no questions about it. 

And that is enough.  

[bigskydreaming]

what are your opinions on we are robin?

Massively complicated by the fact that DC's writers don't have an ACAB bone in their collective bodies.

Dunno how new to my blog you are and thus how familiar or not you are with my ACAB stance for Dick and my personal tendency to never acknowledge or interact with the specific idea of Dick as a cop...like there's more than enough material for me to work with without ever having to delve into that and I fundamentally believe being a cop is counter to everything I see as Dick's core premise and makes no sense given the specific origins and continuities I view as most 'him' -

But I WOULD have a lot of thoughts about how Dick would feel about this massive city-wide movement that he had no hand in creating and how he would inevitably feel personally responsible for every life to put on a facscimile of his family's costume AND the things they did in those costumes (such as the kid who was manipulated into killing someone while in that guise, per the Court of Owls' agenda).....

AND I would have a ton of thoughts about the fact that it was Alfred who secretly engineered this movement and how he of all people should know how Dick might feel about that, and thus how Dick WOULD feel about that information, but complicated and coupled with the fact that Alfred most certainly was motivated in part by his grief for Dick and seeing this as a kind of legacy, a way to honor his grandson, and able to justify to himself any transgressions towards Dick's feelings here with the idea that Dick wasn't alive TO be hurt by his actions here....

BUT the reason I avoid engaging with We Are Robin content beyond acknowledging it as Duke's origin story in the background of Duke content I write....

Is I absolutely can not - or more to the point - WILL NOT - attempt to justify Dick's decision to get all the kids arrested and locked up for their own safety while he went after the Court alone.

To be clear - I absolutely am of the opinion that Dick was and always will be right and justified in not wanting to see anyone get hurt in the colors and image of his family's legacy. That this has absolutely NOTHING to do with his impression of any such individual's competency, nor is it about trying to restrict their agency. That its wholly a PERSONAL thing for him, its a private instinct that is entirely reasonable and allowable, for him to have a kneejerk need to keep more people from dying or suffering in that specific mantle that he never intended to BE a legacy beyond just himself.

I headcanon that after Jason himself, nobody hated the memorial in the cave more than Dick, because the last image he had of his family was them lying dead on the ground of the circus ring, just broken bodies colored from high above in the classic Grayson colors and covered in blood. That THAT specifically is the image Dick so often saw in his nightmares in his early years in the Manor, that is the SPECIFIC visual Bruce so often comforted him about upon waking....and that it was a massive slap in the face and an indication of Bruce's most unfortunate tunnel-vision tendencies in his own grief, that it never even OCCURRED to Bruce that in memorializing Jason in the specific way he did, he was also subjecting Dick to a constant, ever present visual reminder of one of Dick's personal most traumatic images....the sight and idea of his family, now not just his parents but also his brother....reduced to just broken, bloody costumes he'd never get to see as anything but that again.

Not to mention then captioning this memorial with "a good soldier" and thus in the process of disrespecting Jason's true bond with Bruce, simply because Bruce couldn't handle that at the time and was trying to literally DISTANCE himself from that view of his loss, the loss of a son, of family....Bruce simultaneously disrespected Dick's legacy of his family and everything he'd created Robin to be, and envisioned Jason-as-Robin to be from the moment Dick gave Jason his own old costume and embraced him as the new Robin and by extension, HIS family as much as Bruce's.....like, no matter what Bruce intended for HIMSELF and his feelings about Jason's death with that caption, he literally reduced Dick's tribute to his parents and expression of brotherhood to his brother to.....nothing more than the uniform of a child soldier, a subordinate of the Batman in HIS personal crusade. Something that Jason never actually was, and Dick CERTAINLY had never created - or gave Jason his blessing as - Robin to be.

So on that front, I have no problem with Dick WANTING to keep all the Robins, every child who called themselves one, safe - and to take on the Court of Owls alone, by himself, because like it or not, that will ALWAYS be personal for him. That is about HIS family in a way that it will never be about the family, the heritage, of anyone else, even his adopted siblings. The Court were after HIM, specifically, and always were and always would be. I don't see anything hypocritical about Dick's desire to keep kids out of that fight when he himself would have never been okay with Bruce benching him as Robin in some random fight....because this fight is deeply personal for Dick in a way that's not transferable, and to be honest, I see his desire to keep anyone else from dying as a Robin, in a fight against the Court ESPECIALLY....I see it as an inherently selfish want of Dick's. 

A selfishness that I think he's entirely justified in having. Its not about anyone but him. Its about HIM not having to deal with the burden of any more deaths in his family's colors, his family's name, when he in all likelihood originally created Robin in that particular guise because he figured he'd likely die as Robin at some point, and thus he'd never have to see anyone die in the image of his family's costume and colors ever again because the only person left TO die in them, at the time, was he himself.....thus kinda ensuring for Dick that when he did die, he'd go out just as his parents did, which in his youth at least was likely a weirdly kinda comforting idea for him.

So on the one hand, Dick's desire to keep the kids out of harm's way was ultimately a selfish - but justifiably so - desire to not see anyone else dead or injured in a literal WAR of CHILDREN being fought in his personal family colors and image....especially when 99% of them had literally no idea what the colors they were fighting in signified and meant for the mantle's original creator.

BUT.

BUT BUT BUT BUT BUT.

Where this all falls apart for me, and why I don't just go with this take and instead just kinda sidestep around the whole story itself and don't engage with it....

Is there's absolutely no way to 'fix' the story as is.....without coming up with an entirely different middle climax, in which Dick finds some way to sideline the kids without getting them all arrested.

Cuz see, what I'm NOT gonna ever do, is try and argue from an in story perspective, that Dick would ever be stupid enough, or try to justify, getting kids - many of them marginalized, and people of color specifically - arrested in the name of keeping them SAFE.

That's just stupid to the nth degree, and unilaterally the fault of DC's writers being oblivious to the real-world realities of police brutality and the interactions and dynamic people of color have with the actual police.

It was DC's fuck-up there, but I - especially as a white writer and fan - am not going to try and fix or transform that fuck up short of entirely rewriting the whole second half of We Are Robin's plot, which to be honest, I don't see as likely to ever be a priority for me as there's so much other content in Dick's narratives I'd rather get to first. Its just way too far down the list, the premise itself doesn't interest or engage me enough to make me WANT to invest in that particular story heavily enough to create a whole other direction for it, that navigates around the issue I have with it here.

So again, I mostly just....don't engage with it. Because I can't see Dick's stance on the issue of his family's legacy ever being other than what I always see it as, and thus see it as here, but I'm definitely never going to find it appropriate to write Dick trying to justify his decision to ENGINEER the police arresting all these kids for their PROTECTION....to a black character like Duke in specific.

Because its not. But again, this wasn't Dick's decision at the end of the day, because he's a fictional character who can only make the decisions he's written making. And thus it was the decision of writers who wrote these characters in situations that contained analogues to real world issues without keeping centered an awareness of how those issues intersect with people of different identities, particularly people of color and black people in specific.

So its not a decision that made me like, dislike Dick, because its one that I don't think he should have ever been written making, but its not a decision I care to justify in universe.

And that's about all I think I ever intend to - or even could - expand on that subject, I'm pretty sure. *Shrugs*

Oh wait, no, I lied!

Quick thought for white fans in particular....because I HAVE seen this subject tackled at least once or twice in fiction, from an ACAB standpoint that had Duke reaming out Dick for his decision here, for the same reasons I'm outlining above.....

This isn't an attempt to gatekeep or police anybody as like, I'm not actually ever trying to do that, I'd have to know every fic writer's personal identity and marginalizations TO do that, and I'm not pretending to know that or asking to, like, its just not on the menu for me so please don't get me wrong, this is purely aimed at a plea for white writers in particular to exercise personal accountability and good, sincere judgment in this regard:

No matter your personal feelings about Dick Grayson, the subject of Robin, or any of this in general, PLEASE keep in mind before utilizing Duke as a mouthpiece for giving Dick shit for this in the name of smearing the latter's character or making him look bad, like.....

Dick is of Romani descent. In the New 52 continuity as well as pre-Flashpoint. That's been made explicitly clear, and as such......there is no substitute in our current real world zeitgeist for the interactions the police have with black people, but please keep in mind that Romani people have a very, VERY long history of being subject to police brutality and persecution in a wide range of countries. Its a big part of why so many people are so uncomfortable with cop!Dick in the first place, and as such, it makes treating him as this naive, privileged white guy when having the realities of police brutality explained to him by another character, like.....not look exactly like you might intend there, because the reality is he's not SUPPOSED to be that character, but too few people at DC, and ESPECIALLY the people writing the We Are Robin stories, like, completely fail to ever extend the idea of Dick being Romani to any kind of examination of what kinds of lived experiences, perspective or perceptions this results in him having specifically.

And that's a failure on DC's part, but you don't need to go making it your failure as well, so for those of us who are white like, this really is something that should be kept centered before we decide to engage with story elements like the above one from We Are Robin, and like, if we do, then HOW we go about that specifically.

[girlboss-molina]

Be Who You Are (No Compromise)

A Julie and the Phantoms Modern Royalty AU

Chapter 1: Introductions

AO3 Link

Words: 5543

-----

Alex POV

...

Of course. 

Of fucking course.

He’d known it was coming, yeah, but that didn’t change the fact that, despite his friendship with Princess Julie, Alex had no desire to marry her. And now, after begging not to be married off, he was still stuck in this deal.

It had nothing to do with Julie herself, of course; Julie was a kind, loving, musical girl around his age. The issue was that he was gay. Marrying a girl was not something he was interested in. 

Julie knew Alex was gay; he’d come out to her after he was sure she would accept him, which he knew she would after she mentioned her best friend being a lesbian, and her being bisexual herself. Needless to say, neither of them had been thrilled by the announcement a couple years back that they would be getting married, for more reasons than the fact that nobody wants to be in an arranged marriage. 

And now, in three months time, he would be at the alter with a girl he wasn’t in love with. 

Alex knew it wouldn’t be that bad; in fact, he and Julie were quite close friends. Their kingdoms, Tambor and Dahlia respectively, were close allies. But for some godforsaken reason, their leaders had felt the need to strengthen their allyship by setting up their heirs in an arranged marriage. Had Alex been the oldest, this wouldn’t have been the case. However, it wouldn’t be him, but his older sister, Ava, taking the throne of Tambor. 

He, along with his guards, would be travelling to Dahlia this evening. He hated that it was so soon. Not that he wasn’t excited to see Julie, he was, but it was the reason that put a knot in his stomach.

Alex allowed himself one more panic attack before getting ready. As a treat.

The warm sun streaming into his room felt out of place with the dread settling in his stomach, and his breath choked, his heart racing, salty tears streaming down his face. He clenched his hands into fists and back out, trying to calm himself despite the emotional release. His nails dug into his palm, not hard enough to cut, but enough to leave little indents that he then ran his fingertips across. 

Trying to pull himself together, he stood - albeit shakily - and walked across the soft, carpeted floor to his full-length mirror, pleasantly surprised as he noted that he wasn’t as big of a mess as he’d expected, given his previous panic. 

A knock on his door alerted him that his head butler was there to help him get ready for the jet ride.

“Your highness, are you alright?”

Alex didn’t answer, grateful for Luke’s steady voice outside his door.

“He’s a little panicky at the moment. Maybe give him a few minutes to settle?” he suggested, and Alex hoped Luke was receiving the strong thank you vibes he was trying to transmit telepathically. 

Any time Alex had a panic attack, he was semi-verbal. He could speak if he really, really tried, but it generally took a great deal of effort. He and Luke had a system, though; if Alex needed support during a panic attack, he would fake-sneeze three times, and Luke would come in from his station outside Alex’s door. 

Alex allowed himself another minute to calm his breathing and wipe the tears from his face, practicing the grounding exercise Julie had taught him. 

Inhale- 1, 2, 3, 4

Hold- 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

Exhale- 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8

It helped a lot, and soon he was able to straighten his hair and begin changing into the suit his tailors had made just for this occasion. 

Another knock echoed from his door, and Alex took one final deep breath to compose himself. 

“Come in,” he said, proud of how steady his voice was. 

The butler entered; a kind man named Erik, who Alex had gotten to know over the past month or so. His olive skin shone in the afternoon light streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows. 

Alex dressed himself, for the most part; having butlers help him dress was never something he particularly enjoyed. He allowed Erik to smooth his white dress shirt, though; no matter how many times Alex had practiced tucking in his shirts, they always ended up wrinkled. 

He slid the navy suit vest over the shirt once it was nice and smooth, fastening the thick buttons over his stomach. Minimalistic gold embroidery on the vest sparkled in the light, and Alex couldn’t help but smile at the bit of flair. He’d been half-hoping that his matching navy pants would have a bit of sparkle as well, but to no avail. Probably for the best, he decided. Just a little touch was enough. 

He fixed the cuff of his sleeve, taking a breath as Erik reached up with a comb to fix his hair. It was simple but refined, how it always was. 

“Erik, you’ve outdone yourself with this one, bro!” Alex said excitedly. He might not be very pleased about being in an arranged marriage, but he could appreciate a good suit. “I love the details.”

“I’m glad you like it!” Erik beamed with the praise. “May I?” he asked, reaching for Alex’s shoulders. Alex nodded, and Erik smoothed the vest’s warm fabric, readjusting the hem until it was aligned perfectly. 

He might not have been the type of guy to always wear suits, unless necessary, but Alex had to admit it. He looked good. The slim fit outlined his muscles, and the deep blue of the vest and pants brought out the bluish tints in his blue-green-grey eyes. (nobody could seem to decide what color they actually were). The small touches of golden embroidery shone and somehow managed to accentuate the sun-born highlights in his hair. 

“You look wonderful, your highness.”

“Thanks, Erik. And you can call me Alex, we’re chill.” Alex had been insisting to Erik that he could be casual around him for months, but Erik still generally referred to him as “your highness.”

“Alex,” he corrected with a broad smile. “Well, Alex, you have a photoshoot for the press in ten minutes, so if there’s anything else I can do to get you ready, don’t hesitate to ask. Though I must say, you look awesome.” Alex let out a small laugh. 

“Thanks, dude. Oh, wait, before you go, could you tell me something?”

“Of course,” Erik replied. Alex put on his Serious Face.

“Do these pants make my butt look big?” Erik bust out laughing, and Alex couldn’t help but do the same. 

...

Three hours later, Alex was finally done with an exhaustive photoshoot. He hated having his picture taken; add that to the list of anxieties. He had to make sure he looked perfect, or everything could go wrong; that was what his parents had drilled into him from the moment he had his first real photoshoot. 

Of course, he still had to endure an interview with the Tambor Times Magazine, which he was dreading. Speaking to an overeager journalist with no respect for privacy was never something he looked forward to. 

“What are your thoughts on the marriage that has been arranged between you and Her Royal Highness, Princess Julie of Dahlia?” Alex cleared his throat.

“It’s definitely a unique situation,” he started. “I mean, not every nineteen-year-old is part of an arranged marriage.” He did his best to keep his voice light, and it must’ve worked, because the journalist gave a laugh and moved on. 

“If I may, what is your current relationship with her?”

“The princess and I share a close bond,” was the only answer he gave. “If you’ll excuse me, I must be going,” he added. “I have a flight to catch.” He grinned - He didn’t have to catch any flight. He would be on the royal family private jet. But the journalist smiled and shook his hand, instructing him to have a wonderful evening, and he did the same. 

The bit about catching a flight wasn’t entirely false, though; soon, he had wished his parents a good evening and boarded the jet with his suitcases, hoping to leave his anxiety in Tambor.

-----

Julie POV

...

So.

Here’s the thing. 

Julie liked Alex, she really did. He was one of her closest friends (princesses don’t get out much). But he was gay, And Julie was decidedly Not A Guy. Plus, they both knew their connection was strongest platonically, anyway. 

Of course, none of that matters in diplomacy. 

Julie had tried many, many times to get out of the arranged marriage. But she’d just turned eighteen, and Alex nineteen, and apparently their kingdoms had no such qualms about marrying off teenagers. 

At least her dad, King Ray, had tried to get her out of it. But even as king, there was only so much he could do; everybody except for him thought it was a grand idea, because Of Course They Did. And once the public had heard the news, when she was sixteen, Julie couldn’t look out her window without seeing photographers outside the palace gates for a week. 

She supposed there was nothing she could do about it now, though, no matter how much she wanted to, for her sake and Alex’s. 

At least he was someone she got along with well. She knew they would never be in love, for multiple reasons, but she wouldn’t be unhappy. Alex might, though. They’d stayed up late on many a night, him rambling about cute guys he’d seen amongst the palace staff or on his occasional trip to the city, her chatting about songs she’d been writing and the one guy she’d had a crush on, Nick. 

Nick was the son of a nobleman her dad was very close with, and they were good friends, but she’d never acted on her little crush. Her feelings for Nick hadn’t really gone anywhere, it was just a lingering crush she’d had for a few years, but one that had faded with time.

Julie sighed, smoothing out her dress. It was simple but elegant, with a little bit of Julie flair. The silky violet fabric was cut in a slim fit to her waist, before gently flaring outwards towards her ankles. Off-the-shoulder straps revealed the dark skin of her shoulders, and the pearly embroidery of dahlia flowers around her waist shone in the light, tapering off as she twirled, though as she practiced her camera smile, it didn’t reach her eyes. 

Alex was her friend, but neither of them wanted to get married. But she’d tried her hardest to get them out of it, to no avail. 

So, as she sat down at her vanity, Julie closed her eyes and reminded herself the words her mother used to tell her every time she was scared. 

It’ll all be okay, Jules. You’re strong, and you’re a diamond in the rough.

The words settled her stomach a little bit. 

Her lady-in-waiting, Mira, knocked on her door. 

“Come in,” Julie said. Mira bustled in, her flaming red hair pulled into a messy bun, her brown eyes sparkling. 

“Oh, Jules, you look lovely.” Julie smiled.

“Thanks, Mira. How’s my hair?” Julie reached up to smooth her curls, which had been combed back and woven into a thick, braided knot at the base of her neck.  

“Almost perfect, but it needs a little something,” Mira decided with a smirk. Julie had no idea what Mira had in mind, but she knew she would love it. 

Before either of them could say another word, Flynn walked into Julie’s room, followed by her girlfriend, Carrie. 

“Hey, underachiever,” Flynn greeted with a smile.

“Hey, disappointment!”

“Dude,” Flynn said, a serious look on her face. “That dress is the shit!” Carrie nodded enthusiastically. 

“A definite look.”

“Thanks guys,” Julie said with a grin. “I love it, too! Mira’s got some sort of magic in her hands, because this is one of my favorites for sure.” Mira blushed. 

“Well, I’m not quite done,” she admitted. “Jules, your color scheme is pink, purple, and blue, usually, right?”

“Yeah, usually! I can always get behind some other colors, though.”

“Of course. But I think for this dress, the pink-purple-blue scheme would fit the best.”

“Definitely,” Carrie jumped in. “The purple mediates the pink and blue, so those are like side accents.” 

“I like this one,” Mira decided, pointing at Carrie. Carrie flipped her hair and smiled. “But yes. So, I was thinking for your hair, we could weave in some thin ribbons in those colors? It would be super simple, wouldn’t even have to take it out and restyle it.”

“Work your magic,” Julie instructed. Mira grinned excitedly and set to work, sitting Julie down at the vanity.

“Okay, Jules,” Flynn sighed. “I know you don’t want me to ask this, but are you doing okay?” Carrie took Flynn’s arm and nodded. “I know this isn’t what you wanted. Either of you.”

“I’ll be fine,” Julie decided. She didn’t want to marry Alex, and she knew he felt the same way. “At least it’s not somebody I hate, though. Alex and I get along really well.”

“I know,” Carrie added. “But that doesn’t mean you have to be okay.” A single tear rolled down Julie’s cheek, and she was grateful she hadn’t done her makeup yet.

“Thanks. To be honest, I’m not really okay, but I’ll live. And besides, it’s not for another three months. And having another friend around for a few months will be nice. Before, you know, I have to marry him.” Flynn let out a sad laugh. 

“If I may add my input,” Mira began, “I’ve always hated the prospect of arranged marriages. At the very least, both people should have to agree with it.” Julie nodded, quickly stopping when she felt the ribbons Mira was weaving into her hair tug. “Sorry,” she added. “I’ll be done in just a moment.”

“I agree,” Carrie said. “It’s stupid. Dahlia and Tambor are already allies, so why are they even doing this?”

“I’m not sure, to be honest. My dad says it’s to ‘strengthen agreeability between our separate civilians.’ But at least tried to get me out of it,” she added. “King Xavier and Queen Claire both thought it was a great idea.” Julie had always held some bitterness towards Alex’s parents, given their closed-mindedness and apathy towards minorities and less fortunate people. Alex had always felt the same, and avoided coming out to them for those reasons. 

“Well, I personally think it’s homophobic that my best friend is being forced to be part of an arranged marriage,” Flynn decided, “because I’m gay and it annoys me. Plus, you know, she doesn’t want to be part of it.” Julie couldn’t help but laugh at that, as did Mira. 

“All done with the ribbons,” she said, handing Julie a mirror to see the back of her head. 

“Oh, Mira, I love it!” The ribbons were braided through her thick hair, swooping around the knot, twisting through her own curls and holding the hairstyle together perfectly. Both pretty and practical. 

“I’m glad!” Mira looked very proud of herself, for a good reason. Julie’s lady-in-waiting was definitely a woman to be admired (and feared - she’d taken down a full-grown man in a self defense class, while wearing heels). Julie could walk in heels, even run in them, but she’d tried fighting in them, and failed miserably. She might’ve been competent fighting in regular shoes, but heels were a different story. Mira, though, could do it all. 

Mira’s phone dinged. 

“Oh, Jules, it’s time for the pre-meetup photoshoot!”

“Got it. Thanks, Mira, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Forget about your photoshoots, probably.”

…

The photoshoot involved lots of candid shots of her in the garden, doing her best to look serene, and not show the anxiety bubbling in her stomach. But somehow, she actually managed to get through it without losing it. 

“Wonderful, miss. Turn towards me, look to your left- yes, perfect.” The photographer’s voice faded as she obeyed his instructions, a human robot running correctly but with wandering thoughts. 

“You look so natural, miss!” he complimented. Julie offered a smile, returning to her thoughts. There had to be a way to get her and Alex out of this. But she couldn’t think of any that wasn’t treasonous, illegal, or flat-out stupid. Of course, as a teenage girl, she felt she deserved to be a little stupid sometimes, but apparently that was “unbecoming of a princess” and “a bad influence.” Personally, she just thought that was biphobic.

-----

Luke POV

...

Luke hadn’t ever traveled much, let alone to a neighboring kingdom, so needless to say, he was pumped to get to visit Dahlia for three months at least. His hope was that, even though no one involved wanted the marriage to happen, they could find a bright side in him getting to stay with his best friend. 

Of course, that didn’t change the fact that he felt bad for his charge and best friend, Alex. He knew Alex was gay; in fact, they’d “dated” for a few weeks when they were fourteen. But even after deciding they were better as friends, they were close, maybe even closer afterwards. Luke told Alex everything; he didn’t know if he had a secret that Alex didn’t know. 

Everyone in the palace was used to seeing him and Alex wandering the grounds, goofing off, messing around in the music studio, what have you. Technically, Luke was a junior guardsman, and given his bond with the prince, had been assigned (along with an actual guard) to be his security detail. That had evolved into an even stronger friendship, though. Years passed, and soon they were inseparable. 

Luke had done his best to cheer up Alex; seeing his best friend that upset was heartbreaking. But there was nothing he could actually do to help, so he settled for laying next to Alex on the floor and staring at the high ceilings.

An hour passed, and soon the afternoon sun was streaming into Alex’s room. Luke saw Alex drag a hand down his face. 

“I guess you should start getting ready, then?” he asked.

“Probably.” Luke patted his shoulder. “Do you think it would be too drastic to fake my death?” Luke laughed, knowing Alex was joking, though it wouldn’t have actually surprised him. Alex and Julie were friends, but neither of them wanted to get married. Especially not the gay guy, very publicly, to a girl. 

Luke stood up, giving Alex a mock salute, and walked out the door, closing it behind him. 

He stood there for a few minutes, straightening his back as a senior guardsman passed him. He ducked his head in a nod, relaxing a moment later. As much as he might’ve come off as a chill guy, he was worried for Alex; even more so when he heard Alex’s breathing quicken from the other side of the wall, his footsteps pacing back and forth. 

The panic attack shouldn’t have surprised him. Alex had clinical anxiety, and this was probably one of the most stress-inducing times of his life. Being forced into an arranged marriage - even if you’re friends with the other person - is no fun for anybody. And today he would be going to the Dahlia palace to stay for three months before the ceremony.

Luke fiddled with the hem of his jacket; it was charcoal black, and thick and protective, with eight buttons on the wide front, crossing his chest. He’d gotten used to it, but despite that, he still started sweating in the warm weather of Tambor. The red sash crossing over the jacket had golden embroidery on the edges, and he quite enjoyed running his fingers over the textured thread. 

Luke could still hear Alex panicking, but there were no sets of three fake sneezes in between the rapid breaths, so he stayed. Alex was able to recognize when he needed support, and when he needed to be left alone. 

Luke spotted Erik nearing him. He couldn’t stop him, but Erik was aware of Alex’s anxiety, so Luke wasn’t concerned. He smiled at Erik, giving him a look, warning him that Alex was having a panic attack. Erik nodded, knocking gently on the door. 

“Your highness, are you alright?” When Alex didn’t respond, Luke jumped in. 

“He’s a little panicky at the moment. Maybe give him a few minutes to settle?” Erik nodded, and Luke gave a relieved smile. 

“You look nervous as well,” Erik noted. 

“Well, I am, a little bit,” Luke admitted. “I’ve never been to Dahlia, but I’m going with Alex since I’m his head guard and Royal Best Dude™.” Erik grinned. “I’m excited, though! I bet it’ll be a lot of fun.”

“I’m so jealous,” Erik told him. “I’ve never been outside of Tambor.”

“I’m worried for Alex, though. He’s really nervous.”

“Yeah,” Erik agreed, a flicker of understanding rushing across his face that made Luke smile despite himself. If he was being honest, Luke had a tiny crush on Erik, but nothing substantial. “I mean, it’s gotta suck being closeted to everyone but a few people, and having to marry a girl.” Luke nodded. 

“I wish there was something we could do about it.”

…

Luke stood guard off-camera while Alex had his pre-meetup photoshoot and interview. It was what he always did, though this time it felt different, like he was a silent supporter during a tough time, now more than ever. 

If nothing else, he could reassure Alex that he looked fabulous in his suit - it wasn’t a lie, either. The navy blue fabric complimented his eyes perfectly, and the golden details were a stunning addition. Tie that with his sharp jaw and awkward, endearing personality? Anybody would simp for him. He had a feeling that many people did, too; Some of Alex’s best photos from these shoots would be printed in the Tambor Times Magazine, and he would also post some - as well as his own selfies - on his instagram. Luke had seen the comments, and always smirked at Alex given the amount of heart-eyed emojis and key smashes there were. 

Luke stood behind the cameraman for the candid shots where they needed Alex to be smiling or laughing. No matter how much he practiced, Alex could never get a good candid smile, so Luke took it upon himself to stand behind the photographer making faces, or occasionally imitating their every move with mock seriousness. 

When Alex’s musical laugh rang through the air, Luke patted himself on the back. 

Worked every time. 

He worked his magic for a few more shots afterwards, doing his best to make Alex laugh. It wasn’t just for the photos, though, it was to help him settle down. Luke knew this was a horrible situation, but there was nothing he could do to stop it, so he’d have to try to make it more bearable. 

After Alex’s interview, Luke could tell that the reality of the situation was hitting him even more, as a flicker of fear shadowed his face, his hands clenched into fists. Luke walked towards him slowly, making sure Alex was okay with it, and when he didn’t retract, he put his hand on his shoulder and gave a reassuring squeeze.

“It’ll be okay,” he promised. And as Alex seemed to relax, nodding and pulling Luke into a hug, that was when he knew.

Alex was his best friend, and didn’t deserve any of this pain or fear. He deserved for things to be okay.

Luke would keep that promise, no matter what.

-----

Reggie POV

...

Reggie knew he was Princess Julie’s honorary older brother; it had been that way for years, after he ran away from his own pathetic excuse for a home. He was lucky King Ray was a kind man; he could’ve just as easily left him there where he’d found him, a nine-year-old in the street of the raining Dahlia capital city. But he’d taken Reggie in, and soon, Reggie was part of the royal family, even if not by blood. 

Now, given that he was Julie’s honorary older brother, he hated that she was being put into an arranged marriage. She was eighteen, for God’s sake! Reggie was nineteen, and knew for a fact he wouldn’t have been able to handle it nearly as gracefully as she did. Then again, while she was young, playful, and vibrant, Julie was also the epitome of grace and poise; she’d grown up in a palace, after all. 

Needless to say, though, Reggie was sure he wouldn’t be able to not be protective of Julie when Prince Alexander came. He’d met him before, but only briefly; in passing after dinner during visits, mostly. It did help Reggie’s nerves to remember that Alexander was a very sweet, reserved person from his own interactions with the man. But that was his little sister, and while she wasn’t completely devastated, Reggie knew she didn’t want it to happen. 

He dragged a hand down his face, flopping down on his bed. He wanted so badly to help Julie out of this, but he couldn’t. 

Hey, at least he could cheer her up with his jokes! She always said they were awful, but Reggie knew better. Only the finest of jokes could make Her Royal Highness, Princess Julie Molina of Dahlia, laugh until her sides hurt, even coming from her honorary older brother, Sir Reginald Molina. 

He smiled to himself. He might not be able to stop this whole predicament, but he could help her through it.

Reggie hopped up, fixing his suit. The silky red fabric of the vest hadn’t creased at all, nor had his grey suit pants, and yet he still felt the need. He did, however, roll the sleeves of his black dress shirt to expose his forearms, because come on. Even with Dahlia’s cool climate, he still got hot, especially when the sun was streaming through his windows, and he had a few photos outside before Prince Alexander’s arrival. Plus, it didn’t hurt that, according to his Instagram followers, the rolled sleeves made him look “personable” and “hotter than the sun.” 

Reggie ran a finger over the shimmering black embroidery of the vest, then winking at the mirror and pulling his best finger guns. It was his god-given right as a fancy bisexual. 

He ran his hand through his expertly-styled hair, letting some of his waves free from their stiff hold. It wasn’t the perfect style it had been when his butler styled it a couple hours ago, but it was more of his own style, which he liked a bit better. Spinning on his heel and slipping a hand in his pocket, Reggie walked out his door and down the light-filled corridor, down to the front steps, waving to Mira along the way. As he stepped outside, he heard people outside of the palace gates start shouting. He gave a wink and playful salute, even daring to blow a kiss in the general direction of a cute girl. He noticed Julie rolling her eyes, the photographer seizing the moment to take some shots of him on the palace steps. 

He jogged over to Julie, wrapping his arm around her. 

“How are you doing, your highness?”

“I’m doing okay,” she said, though both of them knew it was a lie. “How about you, Reg?”

“I’m okay as well. Just popping in to see my fangirls-” he winked at the crowd behind the gate, and a chorus of teenage girls (and a few boys) all sighed dreamily- “and check on you. We both know you’re lying.” Julie groaned.

“This whole thing just sucks.”

“Tell me about it,” he agreed. “But I’ll be here for you every step of the way. You know that, right dude?”

“You’re such a sappy loser,” she told him, and he put her in a playful headlock, posing for the camera.

“I know.” Reggie might’ve been a “sappy loser” of a brother, but he knew that, in Julie’s book, he was a sappy loser (affectionate), and that she understood that he was there for her. 

Hopefully that would be enough. 

-----

Willie POV

...

Willie had never actually gotten to know Princess Julie, but he’d met her a couple times. He was a chef in the palace kitchens, and on occasion, Julie would come down to try to get to know people. He’d never truly had a long conversation with her, but in the interactions they’d had, she was kind, and had a musical air to her. 

He’d seen pictures of the prince she was set to marry, Prince Alexander of Tambor. If Willie was being honest, he was kind of cute.

Okay, really cute. 

He’d never actually met the guy, but he seemed nice. His photos on Instagram had good vibes, at least. Willie couldn’t help but hope he’d get to meet him when he came to visit. If it was just because his brain was screaming cute boy, that was nobody’s business but his. 

Willie sprinkled more flour on the dough he was kneading, folding it in some more. It was cathartic, this repetitive motion. It helped calm his ADHD sometimes. He kept going.

Sprinkle. Fold. Roll.

Sprinkle. Fold. Roll.

Kneading the dough until it wasn’t sticky, he listened to the head chef, Lilian, shout orders at the rest of them. She was a very intimidating woman, tall and muscular, with raven black hair in a sleek ponytail, and fair skin flecked with flour. But she was quite kind, Willie had come to learn over the years. She was just one of those people who scared you if you didn’t know them. 

He put the dough in a pan, setting it in the oven and flicking on the light so he could monitor its progress, as could anyone else walking by. Wiping the flour from his hands to his apron, he then put his dishes and utensils in the giant dishwasher, finally washing his hands and grabbing a new bowl. 

Tonight was the welcome feast for Prince Alexander. Willie and a few others were in charge of baking loaves of bread for the appetizers, as well as making the desserts; today, mini chocolate mousse cakes. 

Dessert was always Willie’s favorite course to prepare, and not just because he could steal bits of frosting from the spatulas after he was finished. It was also because of how making desserts seemed to put everyone in the kitchens in a good mood. Maybe it was the smell of rising sugar, or the bright colors of the tubs of sprinkles, but he adored it. 

He cracked the eggs into the mixture of butter and sugar, adding the milk and flour soon after. As he poured in the cocoa powder, a little bit poofed up, creating a chocolatey cloud. The noise of the mixture did nothing to silence his racing thoughts, though. 

Would he get to meet Prince Alexander?

Would he like him?

And most importantly, why did he want to so badly? 

Willie shook his head, doling the batter into mini cake pans and tapping them on the counter to get rid of any air bubbles, sticking them in an oven after it beeped to temperature. 

Another oven beeped.

“Hey, Alyssa?” he called to a plump woman a few meters away. “Could you check on the bread in that oven to your right?” She nodded and leaned down, giving him a thumbs up.

“Probably needs another minute or so, but it looks great.”

“Sick, thanks!” Alyssa nodded and smiled, her dyed-purple hair shimmering in its bun. 

Willie grabbed the ingredients he would need for the mousse, arranged them on the counter, then jogged over to the other oven and pulled out the bread - without putting on oven mitts.

He hissed in pain but didn’t let go, quickly putting it on the stovetop and running to a sink to run his fingers under cold water.

Willie already had tons of scars and calluses on his hands, both from cooking and skateboarding on his off-days, so the burn didn’t hurt nearly as bad as it would’ve a few years ago. And by some miracle, it didn’t blister - though it did swell and turn red. Willie cursed under his breath, heading to the first-aid kit and smearing some ointment on it and covering it with a bandage. 

“Let me guess,” said Lilian from behind him. “You forgot oven mitts again?”

“Guilty,” he said with a grin. Lilian sighed, but didn’t manage to hide her smile. 

“Willie, you need to be more careful. I know your brain always has, like twenty thoughts going at all times, but you could hurt yourself.”

“Twenty-three,” he corrected. “And I know, but you only live once, and I didn’t want the bread to burn.”

“Five seconds to grab a mitt wouldn’t burn the bread.”

“Hey, there’s a first time for everything.” Lilian rolled her eyes and gently swatted him on the shoulder. It wasn’t a mean move, of course, it was her saying she was exasperated but that she cared about you. Willie laughed and went back to his mixing bowl, getting ready to prepare the mousse.

This would be perfect.

[honorbound-to-the-pen]

Fictober Day 3

Prompt number: 3

Fandom: AFK Arena (mobile game)

Rating: Teen and up

Warnings/Tags: Major character death, major character undeath, angst, hurt not comfort

Prompt: “I’ve waited for this.”

 The words echoed around the large stone chamber, deep beneath a long-forgotten, forsaken necropolis: “I’ve waited for this”. Baden sat firmly on Thane’s chest, straddling his torso and pinning his sword and arm to the frigid floor with his knee. Thane’s face was white, his teeth clenched and his jaw taut, vaguely shaking, though from anger or cold he was unsure. 

 Grinding his knee down onto Thane’s wrist and huffing at the grimace of pain that flashed across his face, Baden gazed down at his jagged spear, his head cocked slightly to the side. After several seconds of apparent deliberation, he tossed the spear into the dark of the cave, into the darkness. Both men heard it clink against a shadowed wall and roll to a stop; though, Thane couldn’t see it, pinned as he was, and Baden kept his dead-eyed green gaze fixed on Thane’s face.

 With one hand now free, Baden reached up and behind his head, his fingers briefly fiddling with a clasp, before removing his hand, his mask-muzzle coming away in his hand. Baden stared at it for a second, before meeting Thane’s eyes again, his expression making Thane’s blood run cold.

Using Baden’s face, the lich forced Baden’s lips into a cruel smirk. It looked unnatural and demented, coupled with Baden’s still emotionless eyes. If Thane concentrated on the air just behind Baden’s head out of the corner of his eye, Thane could almost make out the lich’s outline, sickly green and grey, looming behind Baden with the same awful smile affixed to his face. 

Focusing back on Baden’s face, Thane’s heart picked up; a sudden change from the slow, icy throbbing that had been present moments before. Baden’s face was filled with anguish, his brow furrowed and his mouth open, as if ready to speak. 

As if on cue, Baden’s mouth slammed shut, making Thane wince instinctively in sympathy. Baden’s face regained it’s horrible smile, this time spread even wider.

“He really likes you, this one. Yes, he spends all of his days pacing inside his head, trying to find his way out,” the lich ground out. Baden’s voice sounded strange, his tongue unused to such mockery and cruelty— especially at Thane’s expense. “Your poor boyfriend, still believing he will get back to you, someday, somehow. It’s sweet, really, how devoted he is to you. Did he ever tell you? How much he loves you, how he had planned to propose after you were both discharged? How, at night, in his tent, he would imagine you there, laid out next to him, just close enough to-”

“Shut up. Get out of him, leave him out of this. This has nothing to do with him.” Thane’s voice shook with anger, the life he and Baden could have had— still could have— flashing in front of his eyes. His heart ached in his chest, the weight of hope and pain and love so heavy a burden it hurt like something physical. 

“Oh, but it does, little soldier. Our lovely Baden tried to escape me, desperately tried to escape my hold on him, to find you and warn you of what I had planned.” The disgust was evident in the lich’s/Baden’s voice, his lip curling in distaste at the sentiment. “While this may not be how I had planned to get rid of you, the little thorn in my side that you are,” the lich said, accenting his words by pressing Baden’s hooked dagger, which had served as his hand since his death, into Thane’s neck. The lich/Baden applied just enough pressure to release a dribble of blood from just under Thane’s chin, but Thane met the lich’s/Baden’s eyes and held his gaze, refusing to tip his head back to escape from the point of the blade. 

“Oh yes, I’ve waited for this. With you gone, his spirit will finally be broken, and he will be mine to control, body and mind. He is remarkably resilient; no matter how many times I tortured him and flayed his skin from his bones until his eyes went dark, he still refused to submit. So committed to his mate. Endearing, really.” The lich used Baden’s hand to run his fingers across Thane’s cheek. This time, Thane did move away; Baden’s skin was cold and dry, and Thane’s skin tingled in mixed disgust and desire where Baden/the lich had touched him.

“I will give you a moment to say goodbye. Use it wisely, it will be the last you spend together while both of your minds are your own.” With that, Baden’s face became lax, the lich seemingly having withdrawn into a recess of Baden’s mind. 

Baden blinked his eyes several times, his mouth twitching minutely as he came back to himself. Shaking his head like a dog, he looked down at himself. At the sight of Thane, still pinned by Baden’s bodyweight, his eyes widened and he gasped. 

For a moment, the pair looked at each other, breathing heavily. Thane closed his eyes, breathing deeply, before opening them again and meeting Baden’s. Though they were still the same sickly green they had been minutes before, they now held such an air of kindness and sorrow, so much so that Thane felt tears prickling behind his eyes.

Baden shifted his leg to free Thane’s hand before reaching down with his own and grabbing Thane’s, interlocking their fingers and squeezing gently. Bringing their fingers to his lips, Baden pressed a cold kiss to Thane’s knuckles, gazing down at him in open adoration. Despite himself, Thane’s face began to color; Baden had died while they were still in the army, still in the service of the Rayne family. Such casual affection and intimacy had never been allowed between the two of them, both too dedicated to their duties.

“Hello, Thane. It’s been...so long. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to bring him here, with us, I was trying to-”

“Don’t worry, I know what you meant to do. I’ve missed you, more than anything. But right now, we’ve got to think about how we’re going to get out of here; I haven’t the faintest idea how I got here, I wasn’t in my right mind while I was finding my way.”

“We’ll get out, don’t worry. I know the way, I’ll show you. Just give me a moment, it’s been so long since I’ve seen your face without...it’s been so long.” Baden’s smile faltered for a moment, his words becoming clipped and rough, before leaning down to rest his forehead against Thane’s, both of their eyes shining with unshed tears and their mouths forming into trembling, tentative smiles.

Leaning down, Baden came closer to Thane’s face, his lips pressed together and his hand gently squeezing Thane’s three times. Thane sighed softly, closing his eyes as Baden moved to kiss him. When the kiss didn’t come, Thane opened his eyes, brow creased in confusion and concern. 

Smiling back down at Thane was the lich, once again wearing Baden’s face. The smile was too wide and too cruel, eyes once again a dull olive color when, moments before, they had been wonderfully alive. The lich chuckled, raising their still interlocked hands off the ground and tilting his head.

“Such sentiment. So sweet. You didn’t really think I would let you both go, did you; I did tell you to say goodbye, after all,” the lich chuckled, face unchanged as Thane tried in vain to wrench his hand from the iron grip the lich/Baden had on his hand. “Ah ah ah, little swordsman, there is no getting away.”

“He really thought he was going to kiss you, didn’t he? I assure you, he had every intent of doing it, I just couldn’t let him be so tainted like that. The emotions he had as he leaned down, though...delicious.” The lich closed his eyes and hummed with satisfaction. “Though equally as delightful is his despair. I wish you could hear him, you know; he’s screaming your name, trying to break away from me and make his way back to you. The poor dear, he thinks he can do it. Ah well, no matter. Time to finish what I—we— came for.” 

The blade resting against Thane’s neck, warmed to the temperature of his skin and slightly sticky with his blood, rose several inches. Baden/the lich repositioned himself so his knees caged Thane’s stomach and ribs. Thane had given up trying to extricate his hand from Baden’s, though his arm was still tense, his muscles taut and ready to strike. 

“Goodbye, Thane Rayne. Perhaps I shall raise you, much the same as I did Baden; then you two can be together in undeath. Such a fitting end for the two lovebirds. Now, this will only-” In a flash, Baden’s spear arm came down and stabbed into Thane’s chest. Thane gasped, pain overwhelming all of his senses in the brief seconds before his eyes lost their light.     “NO,” screamed Baden, seeming to wrest control away from the lich for a moment. Tears sprang to his eyes, falling onto Thane’s chest and mingling with the blood already soaking through Thane’s jacket and armor. 

“Oh yes, little soldier, the little swordsman has breathed his last.” Wrenching his arm back, Baden/the lich withdrew his spear arm from Thane’s chest. The jagged edges of the spear hooked into Thane’s chest, lifting his body off the ground several inches before tearing and thumping back to the floor. Blood poured out of the wound, flowing over Baden’s knees and soaking his greaves and the cloth underneath them.

In Baden’s head, he was screaming, beating the walls of the cell he occupied in the times when the lich fully occupied his body and mind. His spear arm clashed and clanged off the stone walls, chipping and overshadowing his echoing crys. 

Outside of Baden’s mind, the lich used Baden’s mouth to smile down at Thane’s corpse. Getting to his feet, Baden/the lich brushed dust from his pauldrons, covering them in Thane’s blood. 

Stepping over Thane’s body until he stood at his head, Baden/the lich reached down and grabbed Thane’s cape, gathering the fabric in his fist. Straightening up, the lich took one last look around the chamber before turning and striding towards the darkened entrance of the room— where Baden’s spear lay, dragging Thane’s body behind him, the cape still clutched in his fist, heedless of the trail of blood that they left.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34271986

[carminite-wyrm]

A Sunless Skies!AU fic, Part 1

So I've...ended up writing a fic for my Sunless Skies x Hermitcraft AU. At first it was meant to be just like, a ficlet, but it's kind of spiralled a bit into a multi-parter fic. So here's the Part 1!

Again, credit to @redstone-sun for the FL!AU that kickstarted my inspiration for the Sunless Skies!AU!

Ren and Doc, brave Co-Captains of the Octagon Van, seekers of secrets and conspiracies, have for once, decided to take a brief vacation from their adventures and accidental incidents in the High Wilderness. Their vacation of choice? A few days at the most desirable holiday destination in all of Albion: Worlebury-juxta-Mare.

An idyllic holiday spot, where nothing is amiss, and nothing can go wrong. Right?

(Spoilers for Sunless Skies lore!)

The admission passes for a weekend stay at Worlebury-juxta-Mare had been a gift from the Boatem Crew, after a series of incidents that were probably best to never be spoken about again, on both groups’ parts.

Specifically, Scar had handed over the admission permits with a wink, tipping them out of his top hat with a dramatic gesture, along with a pamphlet.

“Should be fine for a weekend stay, gentlemen! I’ve heard that they even sell genuine rubbery lumps there, tastes just like it does back in London, apparently. Haven’t tried any myself, admittedly.”

And with that parting note, the Boatem Crew had set off from their rendezvous, leaving behind Ren, Doc, and their horde of semi-displaced goats.

A few weeks later, they had finished finding decent homes for the goats across the entirety of the High Wilderness, with a few exceptions who were still very much at home onboard their locomotive. And finally, the two could head off to their first vacation in several months.

“So, Worlebury-juxta-Mare.” Ren commented, staring at the cursive writing on one of the passes, and checking the pamphlet’s travel details with the map in front of him. “Have you gone there before?”

“Nope.” Doc replied, most of his focus upon repairing his mechanical arm after their last goat drop-off resulted in a very close call with some of Albion’s native wildlife. “It’s…off to the east, isn’t it?”

“Past London, yeah. Not close to the Avid Horizon, though.”

“That’s good to hear, I don’t think they’ll be happy to see us again so soon after that one, uh, incident.”

“I thought we agreed to never speak of that again.”

“True.”

The journey to the holiday destination took a little under a fortnight, with the last of the goats willing to leave rehomed on the way. The one remaining goat ended up being named Vigenere, and appointed as the Octagon Van’s noble mascot, screams and all.

The island that Worlebury was located upon was shrouded in mist, which slowly parted to reveal a quaint-looking town, with multiple other locomotives docked at the port, and the faint outline of amusement park rides in the distance.

“Well, it certainly looks like what the pamphlet described.” Doc said, as their locomotive was guided to a docking station.

As they stepped onto the wooden planks of the docks, they followed the signs leading them to a sizeable queue in front of the main gates of the station. A few signs, all in the same fanciful cursive as the passes that they carried, directed visitors either to the queue for those with passes, those bringing supplies, those waiting for regular entry, and workers. Right by where all the queues began, they could see a bright turquoise banner for a Swaggon Inc. stall, set up in what looked like a cart, and selling all manner of knickknacks to the passing visitors.

“Suppose that’s us.” Doc pointed at one of the shorter queues, patrons in fine clothing and clearly of noble or wealthy backgrounds murmuring among themselves as their passes were checked and stamped.

As they waited, an official suddenly wandered by, stared at them for half a second, before making a ‘come over here’ gesture. Curious, the two headed over, and the man held out a hand, the badge of a government representative clearly affixed to his lapel.

“First time in Worlebury-juxta-Mare? Excellent, excellent, right this way then.” He said, a businessman’s grin fixed upon his face as he shook their hands in greeting. “I’m a representative of the Bureau of Entertainments, and I’d like to welcome you to our fine port. Now, I know queue jumping is a little uncouth, but well, for fine gentlemen as yourself, I am certain you would rather be enjoying the sights rather than mingling with the proletariat for hours.”

Ren and Doc shared an awkward glance, silently comparing their practical, but significantly less extravagant, attire with the shining emerald suit the official was wearing. Over by the admission pass queue, one of the women’s hats looked more expensive than all of Doc’s prosthetics combined, and Ren knew for a fact that Doc had not spared any expense with his equipment or materials for that.

“Uh, thanks? We do have passes though.” Ren held up the aforementioned two items.

“Consider this a courtesy for your first time visiting. We are, of course, absolutely certain that you will be returning guests, after all.” The man smiled at them, before showing them to a door that had a brass plaque with the words ‘Fitting Room’ etched onto it. “Now, there is a dress code, so please do step inside and let the good Couturier find you a suitable outfit.”

With only the slightest amount of hesitancy, the duo stepped into what turned out to be a sizeable room that had all manner of clothing hung up in the wardrobes and racks that lined its walls. The Couturier took one look at Doc’s labcoat (missing a sleeve after it was ripped too many times by him using his mechanical arm to physically fend off the creatures that attacked their locomotive), and Ren’s combination of overalls, tinted goggles, and a ragged red shirt, seemed to grind his teeth in silent outrage, and stalked over to one of the racks.

“Pick an article of clothing you imagine suits you, and I’ll…figure something out to match it.” He said shortly.

Doc immediately gravitated towards the rack of coats, finding a white coat that was almost like his labcoat except with all its sleeves, and also made in the fashion style of decades past. The Couturier seemed to calm down upon seeing his choice, and immediately busied himself with providing the rest of a three-piece suit to accompany it. Off to the side, Doc saw Ren contemplate a lavish velvet-lined hat, before putting it down and flicking through a selection of dress shirts and blouses.

Fifteen minutes later, they had finally shoved Ren into a tailcoat set, much to the relief of the Couturier, who had seemed close to sobbing after the twelfth time that Ren had thought the chosen attire did not suit him.

“I still think the fur coat would have looked better.”

“It looked like someone had stitched together a bunch of rats, Ren.”

Ren sighed dramatically, before immediately lighting up once again as they finally made it into the port town proper, and spotted the wide variety of shops and amusement park games that lined the streets.

“Oh, there’s a stall for the rubbery lumps that Scar mentioned!”

And with that, the hours whirled past as they visited shop after shop, Ren gleefully taste-testing several shops’ worth of tea variety before ordering a few caddies for them to take with them. At one point, Doc swore there was something more wormy than earthy in a particular cup of tea, staring suspiciously into his cup before setting it down. There was something…just a bit odd, besides the fact that the mists really were vaguely corrosive and causing their clothes from the fitting room to slowly disintegrate and unravel as time went by.

But, on the other hand, Ren did seem to be having a good time, and the shop with a wide array of elaborate tea sets, and other porcelain objects, was quite enjoyable to wander through, even if the screams from the nearby donkey ride was a little disconcerting.

Wait. Screams?

Doc whirled around, to where the donkey ride was. No, he must have been mistaken, it seemed like nothing was amiss, though his mechanical eye did focus upon an odd reddish stain that seemed to shimmer in and out of view. He blinked, and the stain was gone.

Huh, his eye probably needed a little bit of a tune up once they were back on board the Van.

“Hey, Doc, want to get some candyfloss?”

He turned away from the donkeys, to where Ren was tugging him over to a stand with multicoloured sticks of candyfloss. Still perturbed, he absently took a bite out of the pale green spun sugar that Ren had purchased for him.

It was sweet. A bit almond-bitter, if he thought about it for long enough.

Their hotel resort room was actually quite comfortable, considering they were essentially visiting for free. The Department official had said that their stay would be the equivalent of their usual pass, just without needing the actual pass, for some reason.

Ren tugged awkwardly at his clothes as they settled for the day, the fabric already looking a bit threadbare. Doc simply huffed, sitting down in one of the armchairs with relief after a whole day of walking and running around.

“They sure weren’t joking about the mists.” Ren joked, looking out at their beachfront view. “We’ll probably be lucky to get to midday tomorrow before we have to leave because our fitting room outfits are in tatters.”

“I thought we already saw everything today?” Doc eyed the bags of souvenirs that they had acquired, and the stack of cargo receipts he was dreading having to file away at a later time.

“There’s an art exhibition tomorrow, and we still haven’t seen the beach.”

“Hm, alright.” Doc sighed, sinking further into his armchair. “I’m going to be honest; I’m looking forward to being back on our locomotive, my eye’s been seeing some strange things and I think it might need a tune-up.”

“Probably isn’t anything serious, Doc!”

“I hope so.”

Roughly eight hours later, Doc was deeply regretting everything as the sky above the beach shimmered and doubled, the sight of an idyllic foggy day overlapping with scintillating tendrils of unsettling light. Off to the side, Ren was attempting to skip stones along the sea of mist, which quite frankly wasn’t working on account of the ‘water’ not being water in the first place.

“Ren, I think we should leave.” He said, catching the other man’s attention. “I’m…The place is starting to look a bit weird.”

“Ah, is the eye giving you that much trouble?”

“No, it’s-“

“Eh, we can always come back later, we still have the tickets Scar gave us.” Ren shrugged, and the two of them slowly made their way back to the dock. As they stepped back out onto the wooden platforms that formed the dockside, Doc blinked as the double vision he had been experiencing slowly cleared up, fading away almost like mist on a windy day.

An hour or two later, and Doc held up his mechanical eye to the lightbulb above his workstation, frowning in consternation. There didn’t seem to be any faults with the eye, and he even swapped it back out again with the spare, to compare the two. For all intents and purposes, his eye was perfectly functional, down to the polished glass lenses within it.

“Well, Doc? How’s the eye?” Ren poked his head into the tiny room that housed most of Doc’s tools and other equipment.

“It…seems to be working as normal. I don’t get it, I swear it was glitching out whilst we were in town, but there’s nothing wrong with it! I even pulled it apart to check if some of the internal pieces had corroded or fallen out of place, but it was all fine!”

“Huh, weird.” Ren shrugged. “So, you up for heading back in to the town, or do you want us to go? We did manage to get quite a bit of souvenirs, anyways.”

“Honestly? I think we ought to go, there’s just something not right about this place.”

“Hm, maybe something about the mists is making your hardware go a bit haywire? They do have a corrosive effect, even if its mild enough to only affect fabrics.” Ren nodded. “Anyways, I’ll go tell the crew to get ready to set off.”

“Uh. Captains?”

The two turned, to see one of the crewmembers looking at them with barely hidden panic on their face.

“Yeah?” Ren raised an eyebrow.

“Vigenere. The mascot. We can’t find them anywhere!”