#idk what 2 tag we need a tag but sweats

[tastesinks]

a  study  of  kit  baker’s  phone,  featuring  @cultsong.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Someone New 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include angst, pining, romcom tropes, and some darker elements later in the series. Some triggers may not be specifically tagged. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This fic will contain explicit content. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You’ve had a crush on your best friend for years, but you’re slapped in the face with reality when he takes things to the next level with his girlfriend.

Characters: Steve Rogers, Thor

Note: Idk why but I'm so over dealing with people!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You swipe away another phone call. You have at least a dozen missed. Let them buzz in your pocket for another few hours. You try not to think about it as you turn your attention back to the plot before you, the tight foot by foot square, and continue to gently sift through the dirt. You stop only to make notes on the map and examine the odd bit of animal bones you find. 

Bzzzzzz. The constant vibration in your pants makes you anxious. You should put it to silent but keep forgetting. Whatever. You’re busy. Whoever it is will have to wait. You know who it is. He’s been calling for days. You’ve been ignoring him just as long. 

You should pick up. You should be there for him. You should be happy for him but your heart feels rotten. Years of pining and you can’t pretend any longer. Not after the party. Not after seeing him on his knee for another woman. That’s it. That’s the seal on the envelope. The dream is crumpled up and in the bin. 

He didn’t even notice that you left early. You don’t think anyone did. You spent all those weeks planning and fretting and laying awake at night and for what? To pretend that it could ever be all for you?  

You sigh and sit back on your heel, one leg bent under you as you rest your arm on your other knee. You blow an insect away from your face and push your hat back. The sun beats down, offering great light for the excavation but less than ideal temperature. 

“Eh, there you are,” Arturo waltzes up in his round tinted spectacles, “find anything good?” 

“Nah,” you shake your head and shrug. 

“You know where you’d find something amazing? Norway,” he smirks, hands on his hips. “So... you thought about it?” 

“Mm, yeah, been thinking,” you utter dully as you look up at him from under the brim of your hat. “When do you need a decision?” 

“The sooner the better. The grant proposal is all but approved, we just need a name on that blank line,” he says, “this could be really good for you. No, I know it will be good.” 

“Right,” you nod and stand up, dusting off your tan pants, “I know you said you weren’t sure but any idea how long? I’d have to worry about my apartment and telling my family...” 

“A year. That’s about right,” he proclaims, “could be longer but I’d plan for that.” 

“A year?” You wisp as your chest deflates. You put your hand on your pocket as your phone buzzes again. “Wow.” 

“You really want to spend another year in the city sweating for crow bones?” He asks. “Not trying to push you but these opportunities don’t come along often.” 

“Norway,” you suck your teeth and angle your chin as you think, “viking stuff?” 

“Possibly, could be an early Christian settlement too. How about I send you the proposal and you give it a look?” 

“Sure, I... I guess I should.” 

“It’ll all be taken care of; accommodation, travel, stipend,” he lists off with his fingers. “I know it’s not Ireland like you wanted.” 

“No, no, it’s okay,” you assure him, “I’ll keep thinking.” 

He winks and grins triumphantly, “tomorrow. I need to know tomorrow.” 

“Tomorrow?” You echo back in a hollow murmur. 

He’s already walking away. Your phone starts to shake again and you growl. You shove your hand in your pocket and rip it out. Your gloves smear dirt on the screen as you press the red button. You pause before you can drag your thumb over. You inhale and push your finger the other direction. 

“Bucky,” you answer in confusion. He wouldn’t be calling if it wasn’t an emergency. 

“Ah, there you are kid,” Steve’s voice comes in place of the expected timbre. You hiss. “You avoiding me or something?” 

“Uh, no,” you reply thinly, “I’m working,” you rub the back of your neck with your other hand, “it’s been busy and I’m sure you’ve been running all around with... everything.” 

You can’t bring yourself to say it. Wedding. Ugh. He’s getting married... to her. 

“Well, Peggy’s doing most of the planning, really. I don’t know,” he chuckles crisply, “you know, more a lady’s thing. She’s already knee-deep in the engagement party. Maybe you could give her a few pointers.” 

“Yeah, maybe,” you grumble as you bring your hand forward to rub your thumb with your index, scratching away more of the dust. 

“I didn’t get to say thank you. Again. That party was amazing. It was perfect, kid.” 

“Steve, we’re the same age,” you gripe at his pet name. 

“Yeah, but you hate it so much,” he teases. 

You can’t smile. Even as your cheeks pinch, you can only grimace. You drop your arm and close your eyes as you push your head back. 

“She loved it. I did too. We’re so happy and you made that happen--” 

“Steve, why are you calling? I’m buried right now,” you huff. 

“You are? I thought you’re supposed to dig stuff up--” 

“You know what I mean.” 

“Well, you missed Opening Day so I thought maybe you’d wanna come watch the game. Sam’s doing his famous nachos and Bucky is... coming.” 

You hear the very man mutter in the background. Great, you even have an audience. You wouldn’t be surprised if he had you on speaker. Why would anything between you ever be intimate? 

“Tonight?” You wonder, “you sure you’re available?” 

“Me, I should be asking you,” he scoffs, “come on, how long’s it been since we’ve been apart a whole week?” 

“Work...” 

“Can you dig in the dark?” He challenges. 

“Steve,” you sniff, “I’m tired...” you feel your heart sinking. You feel bad. You never say no to Steve. It’s not easy. You tried but he’s right. You can’t remember the last time you didn’t see him at least every other day. “Fine, twist my arm.” 

“Good,” he chirps victoriously. “I wasn’t looking forward to driving up there and digging you out. So, seven?” 

“Seven, right,” you agree. “See ya then.” 

“Don’t make me come find ya, kid.” 

You hang up and cringe. You don’t even like baseball. It was just another personality trait you took on hoping to be close to Steve, hoping he might realise you’re destined to be together. Well, that’s not true. You’re just stupid. It took you too long to grow out of being that stupid college girl fawning over the blond hunk in his coed sweater. 

Still stupid, still alone. 

💟

You never show up empty-handed. Even when you were a poor sophomore. So it is that you delay the inevitable by stopping at your favourite local bakery. They’re closing and you get the eclairs for a discount as they’ll be on the day-old shelf in the morning.  

The owner, Marigold, knows you and puts in an extra one. You leave a tip as you listen eagerly to her rambling story about her granddaughter’s first soccer practice. Usually, you would be checking the time but today, you got more than enough. Finally, she sends you off as she turns off the sign. 

Fine, you’ll go. 

You find a visitor’s spot behind Steve’s building and linger in the car. You eat the extra eclair to keep from crying. Sugar is good for clogging up your tear ducts. You wipe your mouth and make yourself get out of the car. 

As you wait in the lobby for the buzzer to pick up, your insides squirm. You’re not ready for this. You’re not ready to face the truth you’ve been running from. The one you know you can’t deny any longer. 

“Hey kid,” Steve unlocks the door without awaiting a response. It’s typical; you have your patterns. Those little rituals are all going to end. 

You go through to the elevators and contemplate taking the stairs as you wait. The doors open and you step on, facing your reflection in the mirror doors. Your pants are still filthy from working in the dirt, your shirt is stained with your sweat, but at least you remembered to change your shoes. The elevator dings and you nearly let the doors close again before you can find your strength. 

You walk down the hallway and knock. You can hear their voices through the door. Steve opens it from within and gives you a strange look. 

“What’re you knocking for? You know you can come right in.” 

“Yeah, sorry, tired, long day,” you babble out the lazy excuses. “Here.” 

“Oh, nice,” he takes the box of eclairs, “you weren’t lying. You look exhausted.” 

“Ah, you really know how to talk up a woman,” Sam interjects as he appears in the doorway further down the entryway, “it’s a wonder Peggy said yes.” 

“Shut up,” Steve throws back as he turns to head back to the kitchen. 

You take your time in pulling off your shoes and sense Sam lingering, watching as you meander. You clear your throat as you stand and head down the hall. He nudges you as you step into the doorway next to him. 

“Where ya been?” He asks, “these jackasses have been driving me nuts.” 

“Work,” you repeat again, “lots going on.” 

“Right, yeah, now that you’re not spending all your time planning someone else’s girlfriend’s birthday.” 

You give him a sharp look and he shows his palms. You shake your head. He’s right. You wasted all that time. You’ve wasted years. All for nothing. 

“Fiancee, now, I guess,” he adds. 

“Yeah, the happy couple,” you snip and step into the room, “so we watching the game or are we giving him another pat on the back.” 

“What? You’re not excited? You’ll get to be a bridesmaid or whatever. Since I’m best man, I’ll be sure to save you a dance,” Sam chuckles. 

“You? Best man?” Bucky sneers from the couch where he slouches and flicks through a motorcycle magazine, “don’t think so, bud.” 

“Oh, you don’t think I’m better than you?” Sam challenges. “Let’s race for it.” 

“You cheat,” Bucky growls. 

“No, I have strategy,” Sam counters. 

You roll your eyes. Wedding talk, already. The exact thing you can’t handle right now.  Bucky sits up to glare at Sam as he closes the glossy pages. You let them argue and posture at each other. 

You leave the room and let yourself onto the balcony. The fresh air is chilling. You shiver as you step up to the railing and look across the city. You take in the skyline, each window, each peak, each speck of a car on the streets below. It feels so grey. Like it’s the last time you’ll be standing here looking over it all. 

Maybe it is. 

💟

You sip from the bottle of beer as Sam nearly drops his nachos off his lap in excitement. He hollers at the screen as Bucky gives him a look. Steve shakes a fist at the second base run. You’re happy enough to tamp down the heat of the peppers with the wheaty ale.  

Sam rights himself beside you as Steve reaches forward to set down his plate. He grabs the square of paper towel folded on the coffee table and wipes his lips. He sits back and slings his elbow over the armrest as the next batter takes his place. 

“So, how do you guys feel about a destination wedding?” Steve asks. 

You clamp your lips tight and scoop up more fixings with a chip. Sam swallows loudly as Bucky shrugs. No one says a word. 

“Peggy asked earlier. I wanted to do it at a cathedral here. Just how I always pictured it,” Steve says. 

Yeah, that sounds like him. He likes old-fashioned and elegant. Everything Peggy is and you’re not. Makes you wonder why she wouldn’t want the same venue. 

“Back home?” Sam wonders. 

“England? No. I suggested that and she was not into it.” 

“Somewhere tropical?” Sam prompts again. He’s at least trying. You’re too sick to open your mouth. 

“Sure, that’s what I was hoping,” he smiles, “especially if it’s a winter wedding. The date... yeah, that’s a big deal too. You know, I thought the ring was a pain.” 

You keep your head down, hoping the pain doesn’t show. Not only did he propose to her, he kept it from you. You’re best friends and you had no idea. How much had you been through with him? He had you plan that whole party but he couldn’t tell you that?  

No, no, you’re being dramatic. You’re friends. He doesn’t owe you that. It’s between him and Peggy. His future... wife. Ugh. You can’t even imagine that happening. You try and try but you just can’t stomach the image. Peggy in white, Steve in his tux, and you just standing, watching. 

“I can’t come,” you blurt out abruptly. 

“Huh?” Steve blinks and flinches as if he’s been slapped. 

Sam angles beside you to squint at you and Bucky’s brows pop up. Another silence, this one deadly. You’re suffocating as you search for words. 

“I won’t be here.” 

“Well, yeah, like I said, it’s gonna be somewhere else. You don’t even know when it is,” Steve blusters as his face creases in disappointment. 

“I’m going to Norway,” you blather and nearly choke at the realisation of what you said. 

“Norway?” Sam repeats hollowly. 

“Yeah, uh, work... offered me a grant contract and I’ll be going to Norway. For at least a year. So... yeah.” 

“Wait, you’re leaving?” Steve blinks rapidly, “how-- when were you going to tell me?” 

“I’m telling you now,” you push your shoulders up, “I just found out.” 

“You can’t...” Steve begins. 

“That’s awesome,” Sam speaks over him, “hey,” he nudges you, “that is so fucking cool. Norway. Vikings and shit.” 

Bucky nods and gives a thoughtful look, “rains a lot.” 

“So I’ve heard,” you utter dumbly, not sure how to respond. “I got a lot to do before then so I might be a bit absent.” 

“Don’t even worry about us,” Sam insists, “you need any help at all...” 

Steve stands up suddenly and slams his bottle down. Before you can speak, he twists on his heels and storms across the apartment. You stare after him as he disappears into the next room and you hear the balcony door slide back then snap shut just as quickly.  

You grip the beer bottle tight and look down. You didn’t think he’d be mad. You’ll be out of the way. He can get married and be happy. 

“What a baby,” Bucky grumbles, “can’t be happy for anyone but himself.” 

“Well, you are his best pal,” Sam snipes, “birds of a feather.” 

“So that means I’m best man,” Bucky intones mischievously. 

“No, it’s not best buddy, it’s best man--” 

They continue their banter and you get up. You put down your chips and beer and leave without notice from the bickering couple. You near the balcony and look through to Steve as he leans on the rail, his head down. Gently, you slide the door open and step out. 

Only the wind blows as you come closer to the railing. He roils in the cool evening air. You take a breath as you come up next to him. 

“Sorry, it’s... a good opportunity.” 

“No...” he drones, “I’m happy for you. I just... I can’t imagine my wedding without you. Or my life.” He lifts his head to look at you. “What am I going to do? You’re supposed to tell me what bowtie to wear and how to do my hair.” 

“Peggy can do all that,” you cross your arms, “Steve, I can’t pass this up. If I stay in the city...” you let your voice trail off into the wind. If you stay, you’ll have to watch his happily ever after while yours never comes. “I’ll never do anything.” 

“I know,” he dips his head again, “I’m proud of you. Really. But I’m going to miss you.” 

Your cheeks tauten and your throat clenches. Your voice is creaky as you speak, “I’ll miss you too.”  

He’ll miss you but he’ll never love you like you do him. 

[just-some-random-blogger]

Hey love! if you're still accepting requests, could I get an extremely wild, rough and feral nsfw Daemon x wife fem!reader please? (feel free to ignore and sorry if the request is weird, but I'm thirsty for this handsome fictional man who unfortunately doesn't exist)

Frost Bite

Daemon Targayen x Stark!Reader

Summary: You were travelling back to home soil in anticipation of your wolf's heat cycle. Besides the fact that you could not stand the sound of your prince husband's breathing and the fact you were certain he would perish in the cold, there was one more reason why you did not want him to join you: the fact the heat was affecting you too.

Word Count: 5k+

Warnings: Basically PWP, 5k+ SMUT T_T (non-con [daemon touches her while she's asleep], virgin!reader, she cries for various reasons, fingering, choking, biting, degradation kink, corruption kink, spitting, marking, edging, oral [fem receiving], breeding kink, cream pie), RIP feminism, opens with a wet dream, brief mentions of near death experience in a snow storm, dark!daemon (but imo its just canon daemon) fem!reader, wife!Reader, soft!daemon, typos, etc.

A/N: YEAH MINORS DNI. LOL SO I was planning to write this for my part 2 of my Stark!Reader, but i got lazy and didn't want to create a whole plot leading up to the smut, so i removed it all together, which I guess worked out swell for you nonnie, since I was planning something absolutely unhinged. I hope you liked that fic of mine since you're basically getting a p3 of it So here's part 1, here's part 2, but you don't need to read any of them to understand, but i suggest you do for background cos lol this is PWP T_T Next part ig but its a blurb "✨Magic✨" OMG NEXT PART BUT ITS NOT A BLURB "Moon Cycle" Also nonnie, i wanted to tell you albeit asking for smut is pretty awkward HAHAHAH you gotta process these feelings somehow you know. i mean, we could have been criminals, like Daemon, instead but we're not, and that's what matters (unless you are a criminal in which case im closing my eyes) this gif of him is so large on pc but idc he's so hot MATT I WANT YOU SO BAD FUCK OFF if someone snitches to big brother again like in In Your Defense /: Idk if you want to be, but I'm tagging everyone I tagged in the previous fic, as well as the others that commented there SO HI THIS IS SMUT YOU CAN GO IF YOU WANT LOL HAHHAH @aralezinspace @em-the-lurker @blue1006 @mukduk-not-murder @min-jianhyung @deniixlovezelda @moonmaiden1996 @thatmysteriousblog

I caught him. I caught him doing the very thing I dreaded to catch him do. The one thing I accused him of doing every night, though in my heart of hearts I wished he did not... not that I would ever admit it to his face. Because why would I? Admitting it would mean- "You want me," Daemon heaved against the neck of the woman beneath him. He cranes his neck up as he thrust into her, smirking, eyes dark, "you want this to be you," he pants as he stares at me, "don't you?" I am in my place, frozen, watching and hearing the woman come undone underneath my husband who kisses her tenderly. "Daemon," I whimper helplessly, teary eyed, "Daemon please." "Fuck off."

I jolt awake, sweat sheening my neck and chest. I turn to my bed, empty, because though Daemon insisted we sleep together and I could not fight him in his decision, he did not return to me until nigh dawn.

I wipe my face as I recall my intensifying dreams.

It seems my travels up North would come quicker than anticipated.

And as much as I wanted to tell him I told you so, oh to all the gods, how badly he deserved it, there was no time for me to gloat when Daemon did the very thing I warned him not to, fall into the icy river.

It was instantaneous. The cracking of the ice, the splashing of water, the scream that escaped me. Maybe I should have left him in the cave we kept Caraxes, who he insisted on bringing. But then again he would have insisted on joining me to the cabin, the way he insisted on joining me here up North in the first place.

And now I had to deal with the consequences of his actions.

It was sheer miracle that I got him out of the river without falling into it myself, sheer stupidity of me to rid him of his coat and offer him mine when the blistering snow storm was not relenting, and quite clearly the sheer will of the gods that both of us made it to the cabin... barely.

The moment we walked in, I shut the door and scrambled towards the fireplace. As my fingers shivered, I thought of Havoc, and how at least I know she would find mine and Daemon's corpses if ever we do not make it. I had sent her away when the storm came out of nowhere because we had to find cover for Caraxes, and she would not have been any of help to us if she were here with us anyway.

My poor pup. She would be heartbroken if she saw me frozen. And Caraxes...

I curse the flint, I curse the cold, I curse the gods, and I curse Daemon for every time I failed to light a fire. I thanked the Stranger for finally allowing me the mercy of my eventual success.

Once the fire was burning steady, I get on my feet and run to Daemon, hauling him over to the fire roughly in haste where he helpelessly kneels in front of. He could do nothing but shiver as I scramble to get some dry clothes and sheets for the both of us.

I yank him closer to the fire and begin to undress him.

Seeing as he is nothing but docile to my actions and how his skin was turning grey, I began to grow frantic, "you cannot fucking die, you prick!"

I rip his top off and quickly clothe him, "I did not go through all the trouble of marrying you for nothing. I refuse to be forced into another marriage because your stupid ass froze to death."

Daemon's shudder comes out in a thick condensation.

"Fuck," I whimper, as I struggle to get him out of his boots and breeches.

I shrivel up at the feel of his frozen fingers then brush against my arm and I shake my head rapidly, realizing there was no choice. The only way I can warm him quickly enough is if I share my own.

I strip him naked, pulling off the shirt I struggled to put on him as well, then wrap him in a fur blanket in the meantime. I then take off my own clothes and hiss at the nipping cold.

The fact Daemon does not even look at my naked form strikes a chord in me.

I straighten him up and fix the blankets on his legs and thighs before I sit on his lap. I press my bare chest against his and whimper at his dangerously concerning coldness.

He shivers against me as his face rests helplessly on my shoulder. His breath that hits my skin is not even hot.

"Remember, you're too fucking stubborn to die," I say as I wrap my legs around his torso and graciously place his fingers beneath my bottom.

His lack of warmth literally brings tears to my eyes.

I reach out for the other blanket and wrap it over myself, consequently Daemon, before I wrap my arms around him and breathe hotly against his face.

I rub his back, "will you allow irony to take you? The hot blooded prince defeated by the cold?"

He releases a shiver and moves his head. He mutters something, but his quaking body does not allow me to make sense of it.

"Do not waste your energy," I chide.

And so for a long moment, we stay like this, wrapped in each other's arms, sharing each other's heat. I do my best to warm him. I even nuzzle against him, the way Havoc did me, just so I could warm his stupid face.

Daemon finally finds it in him to lean against my touch, and when he does, he mutters under his breath, "irony-" shudder, "-would be if the- N-Northern princ-ces-s-ss died in the cold."

My face contorts and yet I cannot help but chuckle at him, glad he can sputter his nonsense again, "then I should make Caraxes burn you for your stupidity."

I shiver when I feel his icy lips kiss my neck. Goosebumps form on my skin when I feel the hot breath that follows. My hands rake up to his nape, where I then dig my fingers as I pull away.

"N-n-nno!" he stutters, hands coming around my hips to brace me tightly, "I ss-swear I'm not warm yet-t-t."

I pull back again though to face him when I said, "I only wanted to tell you," I lean my forehead against his face, "I fucking told you so, you stupid idiot."

I rest my face on his shoulder and close my eyes, knowing I would not be off him any time soon.

I dream about him. I dream about kissing his shivers away. I dream about pulling the fur blanket that separated our legs away, and riding him until he was warm.

I dream about how good he feels, and how he burns inside me. I dream about calling his name, unlike how I did in my other dreams. I was no longer calling out in betrayal, I was calling out in pleasure.

Daemon.

Daemon.

"Daemon," I trail off in a groan, willing my heavy eyelids open. I feel pressure building up inside me before I understand what's happening.

I not know how, but I am laid on a bed, head on a pillow, form still naked. Daemon is sat up beside me, peering down at me and his hands.

I whine.

His fingers-

"Oh fucking hell," he groans as his other hand begins to knead at my breasts, "you feels so good wrapped around my fingers, I-"

I cut him off with my squeak, hands flying to his arm, thighs closing shut, squeezing this hand in between my thighs.

"Daemon," the dazed quality of my voice is gone.

He tilts his head, face twisting, a challenge.

When I struggle and wrangle against him, all it takes is his hand on my throat to make me go still. I barely manage a choke and my breath continues to leave me as his fingers quicken their pace inside me.

He only releases me after I shake and shudder when I come.

It is overwhelming and nothing at all like I have dreamed or imagined, unlike all the times I've touched myself in secret. It was intense but there was a shame tied to it.

My entire body is hot and tears prick my eyes at his relentless ministrations.

"You were too fucking ready for that," Daemon mutters dryly as he quickly pulls away and shifts in his spot, "how long have you imagined fucking me, hmm?"

Before I even have the brain to do something, he crawls down the bed, "was it when you caught me touching myself to you?" He sinks down, grabbing my legs, "or have you done it before and withheld me of your sweet cunt for no fucking reason?"

All at once, he brings his face between my legs and begins to lick all the slickness off my pulsing core.

"DAEMON!" I scream, pressing my thighs close as I push myself up on my elbows, trying to break free of him.

He ignores me and forces my legs open even as I kick them in protest, "you will not deny me something you so clearly want yourself."

He grunts and pushes my legs down before grabbing my hands that were shoving him away, "you fucking bitch," he grips me tightly, "you will not find it in yourself to fight me off once I make a whore out of you."

I growl at his words, feeling my stomach drop along with my tears because of it.

I was realizing just how strong he really was, and how in moments where our arguments got a bit physical, he has probably holding back. The revelation of this does not cease my attempts at freeing myself, but it is as pointless as I feared.

Daemon rises up from his spot, nearing me, up until he is breathing against my cheek and rubbing his hardened length against my wetness.

I turn away from him, unable to really do anything else and shudder as he speaks, "you said it yourself, you did not go through all this trouble marrying me for nothing."

I screw my eyes shut, feeling tears fall, "Daemon."

He shushes me, pulling my arms up above my head, "you should not worry. I refuse to die now that I know of your lust."

I whimper as he rolls his hips against me, "still, the idea of someone claiming you- fuck-" he groans gutturally, "had I died..." he trails of in another groan, "someone else would have gotten my prize and it would have been all be your fault."

Daemon squeezes my wrist in one hand then grabs my jaw, forcing me to turn to him. I keep my eyes shut though as he heaves hotly, "I should utterly ruin every part of you so you can never have anyone but me. Though make no mistake, I would never let that happen as I so fucking breathe."

"Hypocrite," I scoff.

He laughs and I tense at the feeling of his vibrations, "she speaks."

I dare to look at him as I pant, "you do not desire me. You're just a spoiled brat who merely wants to wet his cock, just like how you do every night."

"Oh," he groans, "is this jealousy I hear?" He squeezes my cheeks, "is my pretty whore jealous that she is not the only one?"

"Fuck you!" I manage out though muffled.

Daemon laughs at the feel of tears rushing down his fingers, "do not cry, foolish wife. I'll have you know I have not wet my cock ever since I called out your name when I fucked someone else before our wedding day."

He releases my face. I attempt to even out my breath.

"I hadn't even realized until she asked me who-"

"And you think you deserve an award for that?!" I quip through my heavy breathing.

He lets out a laugh that makes me whimper, "I think you ought to know that mine own want for you has made everyone else undesirable," he licks my cheek, making me pull my head away from him, "I have been so pent up in want and for what? Because you're too bull headed to allow me anything other than my lonely hand?"

I try to wrangle out of his grip again, and he presses his whole body on me in response, "it's quite adorable that you still have it in you act like you didn't just call my name out loud while you dreamt of fucking me."

He rubs his nose against my jaw, "you wanna know how I know?"

"Fuck off-"

"You were rutting against me like a hussy," he sighs, "by the gods, had I known you were so wanton at night, I would have never granted you the insult of sleeping alone."

I could feel myself burn hotter with each word that leaves his lips despite myself. I did not want him to catch me like this, but there was no use; I was already caught.

As Daemon rocks his hips on mine, he hisses, undoubtedly feeling how much wetter I had gotten was beneath him.

"Fuck," he trails off, "here's what going to happen," he whispers, rutting against me rougher.

I cannot for the life of me withhold my whimper.

He chuckles as he presses his face against mine, "I'm going to make you come with my tongue and then I'm going to fuck you until you cry."

"Daemon, please stop-"

"Your heartbeat against my cock and how fucking wet you are disagrees with your protest, little liar," he croons. He lifts his head, then leans his forehead against mine, "don't worry, my little virgin, you will not cry because it hurts, you will cry because you'll want it so bad that it hurts."

"Daemon-"

"You will not refuse me," he whispers, though it is anything but sweet, "not when there is not a sliver of doubt in my mind that you want this too."

He brings his hands to my neck again and I wait for his grip to tighten, but it does not, "now say it."

I look up at him as my breathing quickens.

"Yield," he commands, breathing heavily all of a sudden.

I look up at him feeling my belly swirl in ways I could not ever explain.

"Admit to both our ears that you burn for me just as I have been fucking burning for you."

I yelp when he puts pressure on my throat then releases it.

"Say it," he barks.

"I-"

"Say you want me," he says softer this time.

I am disarmed by his quick change in tone and a shiver leaves me as the cold finds its way to my belly as he pulls away. Daemon releases my hands then begins to crawl down. His eyes are fixed on my as he mutters once more, "say it."

I shudder as he presses my thighs against his cheeks then whispers, almost begging, "say it."

I turn away from him and close my eyes, awaiting his next actions, for it was not like I could stop him if I refuse.

"Say it," he urges louder, "you know you want to."

I clench my jaw, "just do what you want and be done with it."

He growls, and goosebumps form on my skin when I feel him bite at the inner most part of my thigh. I grip at the sheets at the feel of teeth and tongue. I bite my lips tightly to keep myself from making any noise.

"I should, shouldn't I?" Daemon mutters.

I yelp and look down at him when his finger strokes my core.

His eyes are dark as he airily chuckles at my reaction, "after all I have given you my name, my Targaryen queen. You are no longer your own, you are forever mine."

I watch him as he lifts his head up and kisses my sopping heat. I flinch when he nips at me, drawing my nub out with his teeth. He lifts his head as he releases my flesh. His chin is glistening with my slick as he says, "I want you."

My breath leaves me when he says this.

"And I know you want me too, but I have to-- I need you to say it." He repositions himself in my thighs, "you are after all married to maniac," he breathes against me, "now, say it."

He shakes my thighs, "SAY IT!"

"I want you," I snap, "Daemon, I-" a loud cry rips out of me before I can even continue.

The sound of him lapping his tongue on me, eating me out as if I was his final meal, was somehow louder than my cries. I cannot help but so violently react to him as he devours me. He forces me still in his grip and fights off the movement of my thighs with his face.

It seems as though my admittance has reduced me into nothing but needy sounds.

Without another thought, my hands reach down at him and dig into his silver hair. I arch my back and pull at him when his tongue flicks into me.

"Fucking slut," he mutters, squeezing my thighs as he pulls me apart.

I scream out his name as he digs his face deeper into me. I lift my head up when he pulls away to laugh, "look at you, rutting against me like the needy whore you are."

I don't have time to find offence in his words because I still, not even realizing I was in fact moving my hips against him. He laughs as he continues his work, leaving me no time to feel embarrassment and only hot pleasure.

He is fucking good at what he does. He's so fucking good that my mind wanders where it should not. How much practice has he gotten to be this good? It is precisely because of this that I finally break, "all for you, Daemon," I grab his cheeks, "all for you-- all mine."

I do not see how his eyes dart up to me for I then throw my head back and whine. I feel myself come close to my undoing, "fuck, Daemon, don't stop."

I shriek when I bites me.

Just as I am inching so close, all at once, he pulls away from me.

I pant and stiffen as I hear and feel him spit on me. Much like all other moments, I do not have time to react. When I turn to him, he grabs my legs and shoves me to my side.

I begin to panic when he rises to his knees.

"I'll be fucking damned if I don't make you come on my cock right now," he grunts, making my eyes drop down to the very thing, erect, hard, and angry.

"Get on your knees, bitch," he blurts, though he doesn't give me much of a chance to as he drags me up into the position he wants me by my hips.

I haven't even propped myself up on my arms yet when he unceremoniously begins to pound into me.

I am certain if anyone could hear us in the middle of this storm, they would think I was mad, or worse, being tortured.

"I'm going to breed that prurient wolf in you, just as I'm sure your wolf, Havoc, is being bred right now."

I growl at the idea and feel my belly tighten at his words.

Daemon groans before he chuckles, "that's it, isn't it?"

His relentless thrusts begin to grow sloppy. Suddenly, he yanks me by my hair and lifts me up. His other hand slaps to my throat to offer painful support as he pulls me up against him.

I choke on my spit when my form presses against him with difficulty. He sinks down on his knees, my core wrapped around his length as he shifts me in a snug position atop him.

His hands make their way to my breasts to roughly grope them. His teeth sink down on my shoulder.

I release a wild sound as my own hands come on top of his. I am left moaning at how his mouth sinks into my skin.

Daemon makes sure to suck hard before pulling away. For a moment he catches his breath before speaking, "you did not want me here because you are affected by your wolf's heat, aren't you."

The way I begin to slowly bounce on top of him is enough of an answer to him.

He laughs as his hands depart from my tender breasts, one going down to my sensitive nub, the other sealing my throat again, "you are a fucking selfish bitch for keeping your cunt from me."

My breathing becomes arduous when he tightens his grip around me.

"You would have preferred to touch yourself to the thought of me?" he questions as he rubs on my sensitive nub.

"Daemon," I gasp, pushing my head back as his lips latch on my neck again.

He ceases the moment of his fingers as he finishes grazing on my skin. "Yes, my pretty whore?" he mutters in between his kisses, "what do you want, hmm?"

My breathing strains when his hand tightens around my throat more. I catch my breath when he releases his grip to push my hair off to the side, "tell me what you want me to do to you."

I call out his name. He calls out mine.

I find myself grabbing his hands as I moan out, "I want you to fuck me."

Without another word, I am thrown down to the bed. The only reason I'm still on him is because of his hands that latch on my hips.

I am nothing against his strength. He handles me like a ragdoll, fucking me with absolutely no regard and nothing else in mind.

I make sounds that mean nothing. His name is polluted by my whimpers and cries that you cannot make head or tail of.

I would not last any longer with how he was handling me, even if I wanted to, even if I tried.

"That's it my easy bitch," he pants, "come around me like the needy whore you are."

"Daemon-"

"Your eager cunt will take my seed well when I fill you up," his one hand leaves my hip and rips my head back by my hair again, "don't you think, pretty wife?"

"Yes," I reply without thinking, "yes, yes, yes, yes-"

"And you will give me your pups," he mutters, "bare my dragons, like a dutiful wife will you not?"

My only response is my body breaking orgasm. I shiver beneath him, falling powerless as I scream his name and crumble, absolutely boneless.

Daemon lets out a string of curses as he milks out my reaction for all he's got.

He does not waver once bit and it maddeningly delicious.

My voice hikes up when I feel him release inside me not too late after.

"Fucking come slut," he barks as he snaps his hips in me, "take it all just like that."

I bury my screams in the cushions he presses on, unrelenting. When he finally does grow sloppy, I take a moment to catch my breath and relish the feel of him.

I whimper when he pulls away and slaps my ass.

"The absolute mess you've made of yourself," he coos, as he rubs the skin he slapped.

I can feel myself leaking, I can feel it all over my legs, on the sheets, and I could practically feel his pleased smile as he watches the lewd display. I could not bring myself to care at all though, not when my legs begin to fall.

I squeak when Daemon rearranges me on the bed. He is not at all as rough as he was with me a while ago, but his strength and my lack thereof does not really allow him to be gentle.

He falls onto the side of the bed next to me and gathers me into his chest. When I roll over to him, I groan at the feeling of my wet thighs pressing together.

"Do not make issue of that," Daemon says as he watches me squirm. He pulls me close to him, arm over my shoulders. His other hand hooks behind my knee, dragging me atop him. I whimper and push my hand on his chest when I feel core empty out on his thigh.

He does not allow me to pull away and I turn to him because of this. Daemon forces me close against him, "are you so haughty over my come that you cannot bare the thought of it-"

"But it's getting everywhere," I start off loudly but end with a whisper.

Daemon's nostrils flare as he shakes his head, "I should sure hope so."

I feel my cheeks burn and so I decide to hide my face in his chest.

His laughter intensifies, and I do not enjoy how my head bounces on his ribcage because of it.

"Oh meekness suits you well, my dear."

I weakly mumble, "fuck off."

His amusement continues as he rubs my arms, "you mean, 'I want you to fuck me, Daemon.' "

"I did not say it like that!" I quip, lifting my head as I turn to him, finally making him cease his stupid laughter. The sight of his stupid smug face still glimmering in slick renders me frozen.

Suddenly I am aware of how cold the room still was.

"Pray tell, how did you say it?" he hums, pushing hair behind my ear.

I furrow my brows and press my cheek on his chest again, admitting lowly, "I didn't say your name at the end."

"My," he draws shapeless figures on my skin, "I'm glad to know the moment is burned in your very being."

"Fuck off," I mutter under my breath, scratching my eye. It dawns onto me that my face was equally as wet as Daemon's. Heat rises up my face again when I realize I really did cry because of how good he felt.

"Don't fret," he sighs, "there is a reason why you should not worry yourself about how your pretty cunt is leaking blood and come. I shall fuc-"

I turn to him in concern and push myself up.

Daemon furrows his brows and shakes his head, "it is normal," he soothes, grabbing my cheek, "or did you just forget your maidenhood was still intact after imagining fucking me?"

I am suddenly aware how real everything was. My husband has finally gotten me to consummate our marriage and all his talk of me bearing his seed could may well come true. My chest begins to constrict as my mind floods with endless scenarios.

"Well, if you start frowning like that, I might actually feel bad," Daemon mutters, lifting himself up on his elbows, "what's wrong?"

I look at his concerned expression and find myself speaking before I realize, "did you mean it?"

"Mean what?" he clarifies quickly.

"That you want me," I quip just as fast.

He stares at me for a moment, as if he was taken aback or measuring the truthfulness in my voice. When a prolonged moment passes between us, he realizes I was serious.

"Fuck," he drops his head back, "it must be exhausting to be a woman with your overthinking."

"Well, pardon me for not-"

"You are pardoned," he blurts, making me whimper when he suddenly flips us over.

I am beneath him again. He does nothing but press his weight on me, but I struggle beneath him, not enjoying the idea of remaining in an uncomfortable position.

He misreads my intentions and hinders me from moving, as he wraps his arms around me, "I just told I want you, that I burn for you, that I want you to mother my children. Do you honestly think I am one to say that to anyone?"

I gulp as he shifts to nestle his face in the crook of my neck, "I..." he breathes against my skin. He does not continue as he opts to kiss my neck instead.

When I move to wrap my own arms around him, he speaks again, "I am at your mercy. You saved me from freezing to death when you could have easily decided to rid of me."

I press my cheek against him and begin to comb through the long hair on his back, "I was serious about my distaste to remarry."

"Well, you will not," he quickly retorts, "you will have me until the end."

I bring my legs around him as I release a sigh, "consider me overjoyed by the thought."

He chuckles as he shifts, "you do not sound-"

"I did not want to admit it," I cut him off, "but I think I..." I turn to him as he lifts his head, "I think I... care for you, Daemon... I-"

"Love you," he finishes, staring at me with an unreadable expression.

And for the first time since our nuptials, he kisses me. He kisses me not because he has to, not for the sake of showing everyone present, but because he wanted to, for the sake of showing me.

He is nothing but warmth, nothing but fire, nothing but him. Daemon is not sweet, but in this moment he put even honey to shame.

He begins to stir on top me, though he makes sure his lips do not leave mine. It is because of my moan that we are broken apart, the moan that leaves me when I feel him slip inside me.

"Daemon-"

"You know how I fuck," he sighs, rubbing his nose against mine, "but now we'll both know how I make love."

[sweetiepoison]

Famous Baby (Social Media Blurb)

It all started with posts you added to your instagram story. Your fans immediately began flooding your dms with questions about why you’re in Toronto.

You of course have friends that live in the city but since speculation has begun about you and a certain NHL player, it’s hard to believe you’re there just visiting friends.

Some news outlets started reporting that you were in Toronto with Shawn, “rekindling” your relationship. They used the fact that you went to his show months before and pictures taken of the two of you at the Drew House party.

You post two more pictures to your insta story during the leafs game which had everyone going crazy.

Fan#1: (y/n) really said let me make it clear who my man is

Fan#2: No fr, the Matthews jersey in the second pic she posted like girl….you aren’t being subtle

Fan#3: (y/n) as a wag is what 2024 needed

-> Fan#4: Can you imagine being a wag for the leafs and now (y/f/n) (y/l/n) is also one and you get to hang out with her!

->Fan#5: She would be the ultimate wag!

Fan#6: Steph Marner posted a picture of the game to her insta story and she tagged (y/n)

->Fan#7: STOP! Mitch and Auston are best friends and now we’ll get (y/n) and Steph as best friends!

Fan#8: apparently some fans went up to her during the game and she was super sweet and took pictures

->Hater#1: people were saying she wasn’t wearing his jersey like that’s so unsupportive

->Fan#9: She doesn’t need to wear his jersey to be supportive like gtfo 😤

@yourusername: Lover girl 💙🤍

Load more comments….

Fan#1: I know ya’ll also saw Auston’s post 👀

->Fan#2: They aren’t even trying to hide it

->Fan#3: fr the matching captions, the hearts being the leafs colors…might as well just tell us

Fan#4: I’m so happy that she’s happy!

Fan#5: I know that tattooed arm!!

Mitchmarner: Just move here already

->yourusername: Can I stay at your place?

->Mitchmarner: yeah you can sleep between Steph and I

->stephmarner: she’s actually taking your spot in our bed 🤷‍♀️

-> yourusername: say less…bags are packed

Fan#6: NOOO!!! It should be you and Harry!! If you ever loved him you would get back together

->Fan#7: Can people move on and accept reality like it’s so weird

->Fan#8: I loved her and Harry, but obviously it wasn’t meant to be and we can’t bash her for moving on with her life

Yourbff#1: It’s giving soft launch

Youbff#2: It’s giving my man my man my man

->yourusername: You two will always be my #1’s no matter what 💖

@AustonMatthews: Lover boy 😮‍💨

Load more comments…

Fan#1: Alexa play that should be me

->Fan#2: Idk who I want to be more Auston or (y/n)

->Fan#3: No bc you are so real for that

Fan#4: It has to be (y/n), she’s worn those sweats before during tour rehearsals

Fan#6: oh he’s down bad for her

->Morganrielly: horrendously bad

Mitchmarner: World’s biggest simp

->Fan#7: the confirmation we’re getting from all their friends in the comments is crazy 🤯

->Fan#8: no literally there was probably a pr meeting they were supposed to attend and obviously no one showed up 💀😭

Hater#1: this is gonna be terrible for his game, she’s just gonna be a distraction

->Fan#9: she literally has a whole life and career outside of him. Like she doesn’t even have the time to be a distraction

->Fan#10: she’s the best distraction to have

->Fan#11: tell me your a hater and desperate without telling me your a hater

Fan#12: Kinda random, but I love that their styles compliment each other

->Fan#13: I was thinking the same thing! I love the lowkey matching

Fan#14: I love that (y/n) was trying to be subtle and Auston was like “no I’m showing off my girl”

Fan#15: hand her back to @harrystyles

Multi-Grammy winning pop star, (y/f/n) (y/l/n) and NHL superstar, Auston Matthews have fans speculating (and fangirling) about a possible romance between the two. While we haven’t seen a picture of the two together, back and forth posts across social media platforms have fans suspecting there might be something more than friendship there.

It’s believed the two met through mutual friend, Justin Bieber. And while we don’t know exactly when it’s clear they started becoming closer at the beginning of this year, starting with the NHL all star games. (Y/n) attended the weekend in Toronto with friends to support Bieber who was a celebrity captain alongside Matthews.

The 7 Rings singer who has been on her world tour since the summer took a break before going overseas and seems to have spent a majority of that break in Toronto.

(Y/n) posted on her instagram story at a Toronto Maple Leafs game this past weekend as they took on the Edmonton Oilers at Scotiabank arena. One post in particular caught fans eyes. At first glance it’s simple enough, a glass of wine at the game, but fans focused on the fact that also featured in the picture was a fan in front of her with a Matthews jersey on, possible a tribute to her new relationship.

When asked about (y/l/n)’s attendance following his 2 point game, Mathew’s gave up very little info. “Yeah she decided to come to a game, but so did a few thousand other people.” Auston continued, “She’s an extremely popular celebrity who is insanely talented so I’m not surprised she received a lot of attention.”

He shut down further conversation about the pair’s relationship status by saying, “I’m not going to talk about my personal life. I know what you want me to say, but it’s not my place to speak for or about her without her permission.” When asked by another reporter if (y/l/n) reached out to him about his goals or the teams win he responded, “And that’s gonna wrap it up here” ending the press conference altogether.

Later in the week the two posted to Instagram within hours of each other and fans pointed out that many of the pictures are similar. (Y/n)’s post included a boat ride featuring the Toronto skyline. Auston was a little bit more bold as his post also included a boat ride with the Toronto skyline and kissing girl but her face can’t be seen. They also had similar captions with (y/n)’s being “lover girl” and Auston’s being “lover boy”.

While they are giving away very little, we along with the rest of the world are excited about this possibly new couple.

[multiwreckedmess]

Two Princes (The End?)

Pairing: Prince!Hyunjin x fem!servant!Reader x Prince!Felix Genre: Royalty AU Smut WC: 9k (ish) Summary: The realities of life hurt more than if the two Princes were just a daydream. It’s time to be honest. 

TW: Sexual assault (not by the boys, I will include additional detail below the cut to review at your own discretion), threats of violence (not to yn) CW: Sir title, creampie, anal penetration, dacryphilia, yn referred to as “darling” “toy” “girl” “cocksleeve”, mentions of marriage and family.

Genuinely idk what ya’ll want me to tag there.

Normal disclaimers, this is fiction not a resource manual for how to do literally anything in life. This does not represent ANYONE real or fictional. It’s a fantasy AU FFS if you cannot figure that out I cannot help you. Please do not interact if you are under 18. This content is meant for 18+ readers so by continuing below the cut you agree that you are 18+. Also not proofread sorry, I’m a gremlin in a human suit.

Part 1 | Part 2 you might wanna read. i’m not your mom.

For the TW and spoilers I guess? There is a third party who has yn touch him inappropriately without their consent or knowledge. She asks the boys not to do anything about it. They EMPHATICALLY want to do something about it but respect yn’s wishes.

 Hyunjin’s sleepy rustling barely registers in your exhausted body, one of his legs kicking out from under the sheet. The room is lit with rich blues and pinks, calling in the morning light. Sweat sticks to your forearms where they press into his side, a small way to prove to yourself it’s all really happened, it’s all physically real.  Felix is far more wrapped around you, nose and forehead planted in between your shoulder blades, light breaths running down your spine. An arm drapes over your waist, hand slid between your breasts, his knees slotted behind yours. The throb of his cock, perfectly slotted between your cheeks tightens a knot in your stomach. You push back against him, wiggling happily.  Sure enough he responds with a gravely moan, abs flexing as he rolls his hips back at you. His thumb finds your nipple, lazily flicking back and forth over the sensitive nub. Slowly your lower halves slip and slide against each other, still tired from the night prior. Winding each other up little by little. He’s never been as interested in your chest as he is right now. Pinching and pulling and playing with your pebbled nipples, measuring your jittering hips to perfect his slow torture. Your clit throbs as you whine and wiggle your toes to relieve the tension growing in your gut. It does nothing. Felix is a small explosion of a half chuckle.  “Sir?”   “You can use my name if you prefer.” His voice is huskier in the morning, vocal cords still not used to moving.  “Sir, I need it-” your voice bounces as you tap your toe against his shin, pleading.  He plucks his hand from your breast, tracing down your side to the cleft of your ass, pulling apart your cheeks, cold air hitting your cunt, stale cum seeping from you still. Teeth grazing your shoulder, he slides in easily, the whisper of a groan vibrating from his mouth to your arm. With a shift of the covers and a slide of your knee, you're open to the morning light, his cock languidly rubbing against your inner walls.   “See doll, simply ask your future kings, we will provide.”  Neither of you are in a hurry to climax, the carnal need having been spent the night before, drifting between conscious and semi conscious as your eyelids flutter. You think you orgasm, it’s so gentle in comparison to your soul rending affairs it feels like a different beast entirely. A wave of pleasure washes over you like a summer tide lapping at your ankles. Your eyes roll back with a sigh, his fingers lightly circling your clit. “Is this real?” You wonder aloud, full body sunk into his chest.

 “As real as you want it to be.” You nearly jump out of your skin, Hyunjin’s smiling face turned to you, still puffy from sleep, naked and obviously aroused.   “Sir! I’m - sorry, Hyunjin? Sir.” Somehow you sound both panicked and sheepish, stuffed cunt on full display. “I didn’t think-” Your train of thought is interrupted with a harsh thrust, Felix’s cock lodging itself straight into your g-spot.   “Don’t be mad ‘Jinnie, you’ve been awake the whole time, you could’ve joined.” Felix chuckles.  You stare incredulously at Hyunjin, who shrugs with a smile.   “What can I say, darling. I love watching you,” his face softens, hand reaching out to stroke your hair, “and asking for us all by yourself. Such a good girl.”  “Do you want him to join?” Felix purrs in his low bass that makes your eyelids flutter. “As a peace offering.”  “Yes,” you gasp as he pulls out, the sudden emptiness almost uncomfortable.   Felix rolls you to face him, “but I'm feeling a little greedy today, if that’s alright,” he states with a boyish grin, pecking you on the nose before hitching your top leg over his hip.

  Rolling to face him, Felix kisses your nose, taking your top leg over his hip and slotting his cock inside you again. Hyunjin’s weight shifts the mat behind you slightly as he closes in on the two of you, hands roaming your buttocks and low back.   “Our toy has gotten bold,” his breath is as warm as his skin, fanning over the back of your neck. “Darling just relax and let us take care of your every whim,” Hyunjin purrs. “Now that you’ve asked, we can provide.”   Another shift in the bed that you barely notice, Felix’s face buried in your chest as he slowly and sloppily thrusts up into you. The telltale clink of the glass vase of oil uncorking, glugs of the slick liquid sloshing in the container. The press of Hyunjins fingers to your other hole sends a shiver up your spine.  “S-sir?”  “Yes Darling?”  You gulp, “just nervous.” Whining you feel the heat of embarrassment spread across your face.  “Oh darling,” Hyunjin plants a kiss directly between your shoulder blades. Two well oiled fingers slip against you as Felix slows. You can’t help but wiggle back against them. “It was nice last time right? Your kings weren’t wrong were they?”   Your head buzzes with lust, eyelids drooping in the haze. “Sirs were right. Always right.”  “So you’d like to? I need to hear you want this.”   “Please Hyunjin Sir, I want it. Just, slow please.”  A short puff of a chuckle escapes from his nose, “oh darling, of course.” He mutters, a finger slipping past the tight ring of muscle, a protracted moan ripping through the morning air.   “Keep doing that, I think she likes it Hyune.” Felix groans, slowing even further with his thrusts. “I can tell that by your cute little cunt, doll.”  With gentle touches and slow patient progress Hyunjin’s fingers work you open. It’s easy to lean into his sure guidance, letting the two of them work together to adjust the tangle of legs to better present you.   The heat of the sun streaming through the window keeps your skin warm as the three of you lay exposed and unhurried. No words spoken, the space between breaths filling with hushed moans and light giggles. Your world feels like a perfect golden bubble, glinting as it drifts happily along on the early summer breeze.   Soon enough slender fingers are replaced by the blunt tip of Hyunjin’s cock, pressing steadily into the space prepared. Your breath quickens as the pressure stirs your guts, no matter how much he did with his fingers it still was a tight fit. “Deep breaths darling, you taking us both so well. Just a little more, love.” Hyunjin's voice floats dreamily in the sunlight. Felix’s short but strong fingers massaging your hips, indenting your skin as he molds your flesh. “That’s it, good little darling,” Hyunjin groans as his hips meet the cleft of your ass.   “Really full,” you burble, clinging onto Felix in front of you. “‘S good tho’. ‘S nice.” Head swimming you can barely compute thoughts into words. Very much at the mercy of two royals there's no place you’d rather be stuck. The heat and pheromones buzz in your brain and drown out lingering worries and doubts leaving it empty, quickly filled with the sounds of the Prince’s slow labored breaths. Laying on your side you don’t bounce much, instead letting the two men lazily shift your hips back and forth, sliding you between their bodies. When one drags the other pushes and vice versa.

 “I can’t anymore-” Felix whines. “She’s so wet. Fuck she’s squeezing-”  “You can go longer,” Hyunjin grunts. “She’s not done.” Purring in your ear he whispers, “darling, cum for us. Show your Prince’s how good they’ve been to you.” Hands snaking around you to play with your chest, the tickle in your ear has you shaking already.   Felix’s breath catches, strangled in his chest. His hands grip you harshly, “oh-” he mutters as his face open in shock. His cock throbs, pushed up and fit as snugly as possible, cum flooding as your walls spasm. “I’m sorry,” he whines, “cumming.”   Something about his whined apology, the way his eyes slowly blinked open marveling at you like some sort of precious thing he feared he’d disappointed, it flips something in you. Your vision darkens as your whole body clenches, gasping and flooding the man inside of you. Juices practically drench them as you spasm. Teeth bump against your shoulder as you feel Hyunjin’s lips attach, sucking a purple mark into your skin as he folds forward, emptying himself as well, a cascade effect of your release.   Exhaustion overtakes you, fading in and out of consciousness as the two men adjust you and clean you and come back to lay with you. Happy bubble. Shining happy sunlight. Your skins pressed together feel tacky with dried sweat but you don’t mind. And neither do they. They don’t mind the mess and the grime or the work.

 The work.

 Eyebrows furrowing you think about the work that you aren’t doing today. The small chores that stack up to make bigger headaches. You want to lay and bask but the nagging thought won’t leave you alone. The reminder that your absence would be noted. Your legs have never felt heavier as you try to pull yourself down the middle of the resting men so as to not disturb them.   “Stay,” Felix mutters groggily, hugging you tighter momentarily before returning to slumber. Gently you roll him to his back, letting his arm slide off your body and gingerly crawling over the other outstretched on the bed.   As you swing your legs over the edge of the bed you watch your feet dangle over the ornate floors. Calloused from years of standing, they’re workers' feet. A permanent crack in your nail bed that goes unpolished is further proof of this. “I’m sorry for the offense of my trodding but I must make myself scarce,” you think wryly as your toes touch down as lightly as you can muster.  A hand grabs your forearm. “Would you stay if we commanded it?”   “That’s my duty sir,” you say without looking at him.   “Must we always command it?”   With a sigh you turn into him, Hyunjin, a measure of sadness in his eyes. “I wish I could tell you that you didn’t have to command it, sir. I wish I could just stay as you request. I wish I could stay of my own desire.  In my world, a command means everything, sir, and desire nothing.”  He nods, hand trailing down to interlace with your fingers. “And would it be so terrible if I commanded it?” Hyunjin flashes a smile at you   “Not so terrible to me, but you are the Prince of a small kingdom and a host of a castle, so you must think of others.”  Hyunjin flops dramatically backwards onto the mattress, jostling Felix. “Fine. My darling must leave me. I can’t monopolize her time. I see. I understand. If you must.” He whines. “A kiss first. A command. You must kiss me.”   Leaning over you first kiss Felix’s outstretched palm, watching him as he reflexively curls. Then you look at Hyunjin, lips pursed dramatically at you, waiting. “One kiss sir. Exactly as you commanded, are you sure you want that kind of kiss?”  He leans up, hand extending to pull you closer by the back of your neck. Lips locking with his, you both press into the kiss, unwilling to be the first to break.  You chuckle as you leave, tearing a hole in your heart as you close the door.

 No longer new to the routine of the monthly meeting, you’d become familiar with the quirks and habits of the usual attendees. Those who were lucky to live close frequently settled in early while those who lived in the farthest reaches would sprint in just in time for the Princes to sit down from their small talk. As the season progressed your uniform adapted as well, much to their delight. Layers paired down to a simple sweat-wicking chemise, corset, top and knee length skirt. Still plain but lighter during the summer heat. Easier to put on, easier to remove.

 This month was different. You took note of a new member, sitting crooked in his plush chair, chest bare but shoulders covered in a rich velvet cloak. Not the usual fashion of the kingdom or her provinces. Stubble was already pricking his skin and tinting his jawline, his mouth quirked to the side, there was something in his smile that turned your stomach. Not the fluttering flip that the Princes gave you of excitement and anticipation, it was a jittery yank violently downwards of dread.  ”I’d have thought to come to court more frequently had I known you were hiding away treasures as this in this stuffy old castle,” the man comments to the Princes. Felix’s normally cheery smile and bright eyes fading, setting into stone.  ”We’ve made no effort to hide her,” Hyunjin plasters a cold smile to his face, ever the diplomat. “As you know, our kingdom has always had an open door to yours, you only need knock.”  The Princes watch in a tense uneasy silence as you refill the man’s goblet. The only noise that breaks through is the steady stream of dark liquid splashing into the vessel. From this distance you can tell he’s at least two decades your senior, glittering silver streaks flecking through his hair. You can feel his fingertips brushing the backs of your thighs, clammy on your warm skin. He’s careful to go just high enough to meet the hem of your skirts, not high enough to be obvious except to yourself and him. Alert bells ring in your head but you hold firm and focused. The second it fills you bow shortly, just enough to pass as polite, and go to skitter back to the safety of your corner. To hide where you know best.

 But he grabs you by the elbow pulling you back into place. ”How much?” Hyunjin’s vacant smile falters as both Princes stare at the man. ”How much for the slave girl.”  Felix splutters, “she’s a human, she’s not for sale.”  ”Everything has a price my naive boys,” he laughs, turning to you. “How much?” Eyes flitting from your princes to this man, you shake like a leaf. His hands move boldly; traveling the front of your thighs, visible now to the princes. ”I asked, how much? What’s the price for a lick of that sweet little cunt of yours?”  ”Miss,” Felix’s voice booms in the chamber. “Do you want that man to handle you as he is?”  You shake your head swiftly, yanking yourself back from him.  ”The next appendage that so much as brushes against her apron will be lopped off and fed to the pigs,” Hyunjin's voice cuts through, direct to the man’s ears, striking like a snake. The court sits on a knife's edge, teetering precariously, waiting for someone to act. The visitor smirks, slowly lowering his hand to his lap with the shake of his head. “Now can you behave yourself long enough to sort out the new agreements or have you been so enfeebled by your long day’s travel that your brain is soft and you need to be excused to rest?”   The man smiles, eyes cold, “little princes, all of this bluster is not necessary. It was a simple question, that is all. We can proceed as planned.”

 No matter how hard you try you can’t escape the feeling of being watched. His lingering gaze torments you in your corner. You had trained years and years to be as invisible as possible and now you were so clearly not. Not just to the Princes, but to others. Others whose attention you didn’t want. You’d been good at it too, making yourself small and silent and unseen, or you’d thought. Now you weren’t so sure.  Your leg bounces nervously. Hyunjin, you notice, seems particularly distracted by the visitor, back stiff and straight, eyes darting around the room. It’s difficult to tell exactly what the Princes were saying but by body language Hyunjin is on edge, clearly pressing the agenda forward at a rapid pace. The visitor sips his wine leisurely, staring. Making a show of the empty cup as his hand jangles it around, pinched between his thumb and forefinger. Hyunjin almost breaks then, jaw tensing as you approach the man. The rest of the visitors and advisors don’t notice as you slip between the seats with your vase.   “These big mean boys keep you locked away?” His voice turns your stomach sour. “It’s okay you can tell me. Just whisper sweet nothings in my ear.”  You shake your head in a small tight back and forth, “no. My state is well, thank you.”  The man’s nostrils flare. “Tell me girl, have you ever seen such riches as these?” His hand dives into the deep pocket of his velvet overcoat, pulling from it a wad of bills and tossing them on the table. “Can you even comprehend the amount of wealth I have?”  “No,” you whisper. “Please sir, is this all you require? I don’t want to disturb the meeting.”  Slowly heads and eyes are turning to you as you stand, sticking out like a sore thumb from the rest of the seated table. What happens next happens in slow motion. You watch as the man’s hand reaches forward to grab the goblet but instead of grasping the stem, he punches it out from underneath, tipping his glass towards himself, sending the contents spilling forward onto his lap. Without thinking you grab a napkin and begin to dab at the bubbles of liquid before they absorb fully into a variety of thick, plush, fabrics. It was the training, the years of muscle memory to protect the image of the court, to care for the guests of the kingdom, to remedy any ills that could potentially fall on your head, that kicked into gear. His lecherous smirk doesn’t even register fully until his low gruff chuckle passes by your ear.  “It’s okay everyone, just a small accident,” he waves to the hushed table to continue their discussions. Then he turns to you, voice low enough for only you to hear, “such an eager little wench. Take some change for your troubles,” his hand covers yours, big and rough, taking the napkin from you and gesturing towards the stack of money on the table. “See how your state likes that.”  You feel something flex below your fingers. Wrenching your hand away and gathering it to your chest with the other, you feel sick. You don’t want to know what you felt. The man gathers the money and slides it into the front of your apron with the same lascivious smile plastered on his face.   “There you go, girl, for doing such a good job.”

  Lips cemented shut for fear of the nausea worming in your gut becoming something more, you sit back at your stool and pray. This room had been a sight of many unreal feeling events but this was something else. Front teeth biting the inside of your lip you fight the tears welling in your eyes. You can’t bring yourself to look at them, the Princes, radiant as ever at the front of the room. Instead your eyes search the room for any excuse to leave first, break protocols and abandon your position, any emergency that needs immediate attention would do.   But nothing appears. For the rest of the meeting there are no hiccups, not that there ever were. The rest of the castle knew just how important this meeting was and acted accordingly like a well oiled machine, practiced and precise. Except for you. No amount of oil could make up for the misshapen way you felt. No amount of elbow grease or pressure could fix it. Nothing had made you more certain of that than this. The outline of the wad of bills in your white linen apron reminds you of your place. Another person would’ve found a better way out of it, or wouldn’t be in this position to begin with. Your body holds itself so stiffly you start to vibrate, imperceptible to everyone but yourself.

 The meeting wraps up, advisors slowly meander past your post, some lost in deep discussion, others give you small nods of thanks until few remain. You steal yourself, waiting for the moment you know is coming. Eyes to the floor you can still feel him standing slowly, footsteps heavy and elongated, slowly making his way, server in tow, to your stool. You can hear him take a breath to speak as a third pair of footsteps intercedes.  “If you have a request, allow me to personally attend to it.”   An angel stands with his back to you, separating the man from your line of sight. Your angel, swooping in to save you. Prince Felix, unmistakable from his wide shoulders and small waist. He walks perpendicular to the man, continuing to block you from him as he corrects course to the door. He’s caught and by the Prince no less. Though you can’t see him you know he can’t act without causing more trouble than you’re worth.  “Ah well you see my clothes are still a bit damp and-”   “-and I will have an outfit more befitting the climate sent to your room where you can undress and bathe yourself in privacy.”   Their voices grow faint as Felix walks with him out the door and into the hall, leaving no room for arguing. Finally the room is quiet, your eyes search for Hyunjin who is uncharacteristically missing. So you clean. Gathering glasses and plates and papers. Separating and stacking. Carefully placing onto trays and those trays onto the cart. Finally carting the dishes into the small auxiliary kitchen, the opposite direction of the way you normally leave with the Princes. Pushing the door open with your back and pulling the cart with you over the threshold, the happy sound of water sloshing into the large basin of the sink greets your ears.

 “How much did he give you,” the water turns off abruptly, before you have a chance to turn. The tone of his voice could cut glass like butter. You drop into a low curtsey out of shock.  “Prince Hyunjin sir! Why-where-here?”  “How much did he give you?” Hyunjin’s shoulders hunch up to his ears as his palms press into the lip of the sink, biceps flexed and knuckles white.   “I don’t- I didn’t count. I didn’t want to touch it. I couldn’t, sir i could never, I would never-”  He whips around, hands still damp, he reaches into your apron pocket and tosses the bills onto the small prep table in the corner. “Count them. Count them and he’ll get as many lashes.”  You gasp. “Sir, no. I can’t. Lashes? For what?”  “He insulted you. Therefore he insulted me. Therefore he insulted the kingdom and should be punished accordingly.”   “Sir. No.” Your stomach flips as you shrink into yourself. “Not me. Not me at all. I’m not worth the incident.”   His eyes look wild with anger. You wish more than anything you could evaporate under the heat of his fury. “Why not? You’re a human. You have dignity.”  “To a powerful man like that, I’m nothing. It’s his right.” Hyunjin’s words have pushed you back, thighs and palms holding the small table behind you as he stalks forward.  “Not here. Not in this Kingdom. Not in my Kingdom. Is that what we are to you? Your Princes are just powerful men exercising their right?”   “No! Sir-”   “Stop calling me that. We aren’t in court or the bedroom.”  “Hyunjin.” It isn’t you who says it. Mouth ready and open to heed his request, instead Felix, at the doorway, speaks his brother’s name sternly.  “You’re scaring her. Look at how small she’s made herself. If she doesn’t want us to do anything, we can’t do anything.”   Felix is right, you’ve curled reflexively around your middle as best you can, body naturally protecting your vital parts. With a gulp a flood of tears spill silently to your cheeks.  “He tricked her, Felix.” Hyunjin's full attention turns to him. Your breath stays held as you watch their showdown. “He tricked her into touching him. Then he tried to pay her for it. Tried to take her away from us. It was bad enough when he did it to our faces but to try to coerce her during court? Assault her? As though we don’t take care of our people. It was an insult to her autonomy. It was an insult to our authority!”   Felix doesn’t budge in the face of his tirade, resolute.“Take a walk, cool off. It’s equally her right to ask us not to interfere.”   Hyunjin opens his mouth to fight but Felix heads him off.   “As you are so concerned with her rights, you agree, it’s her right to ask us to not interfere.”  His mouth flaps open and closed soundlessly. For a second you think maybe he’s going to haul off and punch Felix. Instead he pushes past him into the hallway, not missing the opportunity to knock shoulders fiercely. You can hear his frustration echoing down the hall, exasperated groans and angered shouts rattling the stones of the foundation.

 If a black hole appeared and sucked you into it in a violent vortex of wind you wouldn’t be surprised. You’d be thankful for the quick and certain death at the hands of a celestial entity that was not made of flesh and bone and blood. Face still streaked with tears your body responds with automatic protocol. Most painfully, despite it all, dishes must be done, time stops for no one, not even powerful men. And so you start cleaning, soapy water still warm from Hyunjin’s washing. Each glass, used or not, gets carefully dipped and swirled around. The silverware clatters to the bottom to soak in the suds. There’s a calmness in the rhythm of it. Reach for the glass, grab the stem, dip the goblet, swish the soapy water, rinse with new water, place upside down to drain, repeat. Reach, grab, dip, swish, rinse, place, repeat.   “He means well, you know. It’s just seldom that anyone asks us to not do anything,” Felix sighs. His shoulder touches yours as he hunches over the sink with you, grabbing a glass for himself and following your lead.  “Please,” you whisper barely audible above the soothing sound of the water, “you really shouldn’t-”  “I’m just a Prince, I’m not totally and completely incapable of household chores. Besides, our Hyunjin is not the only one who hates to sit on the sidelines.”   Tears bubble again, you’re not sure why. You don’t fight him about it, instead leaning into him as the two of you work to clear the pile. He doesn’t remark on your crying, softly humming as he works. You almost feel like a normal couple, not a Prince and a member of his housestaff. Slowly your head leans over onto his shoulder, his long blonde hair tickling your ear.   With two people the remainder of the cart is cleared quickly, which you are thankful for. Pure emotional exhaustion fatigues your brain. You hardly notice how much weight you’re lending to Felix until he shrugs, your head bobbing with him. He’s midway through wiping his hands on his trousers, normally you’d be horrified to see the dirty dishwater soak into the richly dyed fabric but now you simply offer your apron to him.   “You’re tired,” Felix softly smiles. “May I?” His waterlogged thumb wipes the dried tears at the bottom of your jawline. You nod into his palm. The small gesture has tears welling at your lash line again. You love his care, you love his smile, you love him so much it hurts and catches in your chest. Felix tuts. “I only want tears if they’re from pleasure.”  “Then make it so,” you sniff. “Make them happy. Make me happy.” Your voice trembles and threatens to crack. Through watery vision you stare fiercely into his eyes.  His expression looking back at you is so soft in contrast, eyes kind but troubled. He chuckles, “quite the demand. I’m only a Prince but I'll see what I can do.”

 The moment you feel the helplessness threaten to collapse inside of you his lips catch yours. Wet and messy your lips, teeth, and tongues clash against each other as if by force you could express the sincerity of your feelings.  “I love you, my doll,” Felix manages to growl into your open mouth. Hips pinning yours to the counter you pant to catch your breath even for a moment. It smells like soap and skin and sunshine as he covers your face with small pecks. “If my love alone could protect you, you’d have no stronger shelter.”  “But it can’t Sir-” his lips dip down the column of your throat, a fresh hot wave of arousal traveling down your spine with a shudder.  “And you know this, how? How many Princes have loved you like I?” He holds you just far enough away so you can see the sparkle of his eyes.  “None.”  “Then you don’t know for sure that it can’t.”  “But it’s not--!”  “Then join me in pretend,” he kisses your warm cheek. “What use is logic and reason if all it does is make you sad? Just for now, just me.”   With a pointed nip at your neck he forces a moan from you. It’s difficult for your rational side to escape how overwhelmingly good it feels to be with him, how eagerly he kisses every inch of skin, how consumed he seems by you, his slight of hand tricks that seem to magic you into a more undressed state. In the warmth of his embrace feelings pool and flow over, drowning that small voice that tells you to be critical. One hand slipping up your skirt, he kneads the crease between your ass and thigh, fingers slowly working their way towards your entrance. The other pulls hastily at your bodice strings, not bothering to fully unlace anything that didn’t need it. He hitches your leg up over his hip, his knee pressing into the cupboards below the sink, arm looping around your thigh to support you.   “Britches, undo them, now” he pants as he leans the two of you back. His length throbs with your swollen cunt.   Still nowhere near as deft with his toggles as he was with your ties, your hands fumble over the buttons confining him within the cotton panel. Each slip of a button from its hole increases the heat of anticipation in your gut, as though this were the first time you’d seen him. The swollen tip of his thick length poking over the draped fabric has you giddy, hand automatically migrating to circle it.  “Did I say you could touch?” His face scrunches, fighting an airy whine.   Fingers of one hand still fumbling with buttons while the thumb of the other glosses the beaded precum over the spongy head you watch him struggle to keep his strict facade. “Please?”   With a deep breath he forces the air from his lungs in one guttural groan, “I can’t refuse my doll now can I? Not when you ask so sweetly. Not when you’re practically dripping on me.”  “I need you, please, sir, please,” his cock nearly fully out, a few buttons separating you from him. “How many buttons do you even need,” you grumble.   “Fuck the fucking buttons,” Felix perches you on the edge of the sink, teetering precariously as he hastily pulls the breaches the rest of the way down, shirt completely untucking. Your skirts get shoved up around your waist before he pulls you to him, cock searching blindly beneath the flood of fabric for your core. Catching on the muscle, with a sudden prod his blunt head slips past.  You wince and yelp, “Felix!”   Brushing your flyaways back he kisses you, “okay? You okay? I’m so sorry usually we- I know I- I want to take my time love but-”  “I’m fine, just sudden, just big,” you bite your lip and try to breathe. Felix holds you closer to steady the two of you, rocking the rest of his length up as you slowly sink down, all the while murmuring praise against your throat.  You feel delirious as his full length fills you, clit grinding against the caught mixture of fabrics of his shirt and your skirt. “Feels so good.” Your skin buzzes with endorphins. “Felix you feel so good.” A sob catches.  “Pretty doll, why are you crying?” He kisses your trembling shoulders. Bouncing you up on his hips, speared on his cock he coaxes the tears free with each percussive measured thrust.  “Hap-py, real-ly hap-py,” you burble, words broken up by air forced from your lungs. “Fu-ull and ha-ppy.”   His arms add to the thrusting, pulling you down faster than gravity onto him. Usually one to reply, Felix pours his full focus into pummeling your cunt, your single leg barely adding support as you wobble on your tippy toe. The leg held on his hip tensing and shaking. Fingers digging into his shoulder blades and wrinkling his shirt you cum. He seems to reveal in the feeling of your cunt working him, kissing you with more fervor as it pulses around him, happy to clench around something so thick. Eyelids fluttering and eyes rolling you’re  Gulping air and overstimulated he doesn’t let up, instead hammering into you as he chases his high. Every ounce of strength you can muster is diverted to withstanding the smack of his hipbones against your ass. His hips stutter and pace slows, you can hear his heart; a comforting fluttering thudding part of him that reminds you that you’re both just flesh and blood and emotions in squishy little bodies. The part of him you like most maybe, the soft tender man that lives in the shell of a mighty ordained being. You don’t even realize you are whimpering in his ear until you hear the door click and shift squeakily on its hinges. You duck your head into his chest, trying to curl completely into his shadow.  “Get. OUT.” Felix practically roars, mid climax and not waiting on formalities. The door slams shut quickly before you have a chance to peek over your lover's shoulder. He looks more lion-like than he’d ever, halo of golden hair wild and mane like, panting and hunched over you like prey he’d feasted on.   “Do you think-” you gulp and pant.   “No. If anything they saw my ass.”   “What if-”   “Then we handle it. Together.”

 Hair fixed, clothes smoothed and righted, you head back to your room in the soft glow of the hallway. The only reminder of your day is the slow trickle of cum streaking your thighs. You suppose all lovers do this to some extent, waddle their way to their own beds until they’re married. Was there even a chance of that with him, with them? Or was the inevitable end of your tryst a quiet disappearance into wider society. Standing in the full ground level kitchen you stir your herbal concoction. Queen Anne’s Lace, willow, pennyroyal, myrrh, and rue. A mash of plant parts from roots to seeds all put together, a well-tread recipe at this point, still horribly bitter to swallow and best chugged when cool. It could be worse, for you all that happened was light bleeding and cramping. You’d heard for some the potion made them bedridden for days. It was inconspicuous as long as you refilled what you’d taken from the kitchen garden.  Still you can’t help your burning curiosity as to who may have seen you or what may be said. Taking extra hours in the kitchen, assisting with the laundry, really adding any of the known gossip spots to your routine of chores. Strangely nothing. Not a peep of anyone, much less a Prince, using the auxiliary kitchen for auxiliary activities. You’d at least expected speculative whispers of who the man could’ve been. In particular the laundry day gossip had revolved around one of the stablehands' sexual conquests, questions of paternity of a noble woman’s eldest child, and whatever was happening at the far away chantry. So maybe a consensual romp in a kitchen wasn’t interesting enough without hints at who it might be. As an upside your extra hours had grown your estimation in your matron’s eyes, always pleased to see your head down, nose buried in work, keeping yourself out of trouble.  “I’d had my doubts some days,” you overheard her speaking with the head of the staff, “but she’s really taken to work like flies to honey.”   But flies who feed themselves fat on honey stick and drown.

 Normally beds were made in pairs but your partner was sick in bed that day. Doubled over with cramps she was in no state to lift mats and shake out duvets with you.  “Really I can-” she sat on the edge of her small cot, one arm wrapped around her stomach, shoulders hunched over. Practically shaking with pain, you carefully helped her back down.  “It’s fine, I’ll make up for the both of us.”   Face contorted in pain she nods. “Please, ask anything of me and I’ll help you.”  “It‘s fine,” you assure her, “it’ll be better than nothing.”  “Really, I refuse to be a burden. If you ever-” an anguished clench of her jaw interrupts the thought process. Refilling her water jug and placing it in arms reach, you leave her small room. Some day you may have to use that offer but for now you had to get going.  The work wasn’t easy or efficient but it was better done alone than not at all and better alone than dragging your friend around like a ball and chain. Carefully tucking opposing diagonal corners of the bottom sheet in before rotating and attending to the other pair, you work methodically through the upper guest rooms. In the summer heat the heavy shades are draw and rooms dark to preserve what cool night air you could. Still the heavy work left you panting and sweaty, hair frizzing in different wild directions. The thin layer of dried sweat reactivated by new beads as you progress through the rooms.  You sit on the edge of a half made bed to catch your breath. Limbs starting to hurt and drag you focus on the promise of a nice cool bath at the end of the day. You think about how the water would prickle against your overheated skin, numbing as you soak the pain of the day away. The air wicking the droplets off your exposed parts and cooling you further. Eyes closed the power of suggestion works it’s magic to refresh you even now.

 “Look at this darling present left all alone,” Hyunjin’s voice calls in a cheerful sing song as he closes the door behind him, leaving the two of you in near darkness.  Your heart beats wildly. “Prince Hyunjin, your royal highness?” You respond into the black.  A sigh from behind you has you spin on the top sheet. “Are we so unfamiliar even now?” You wish you could see his expression, but he sounds almost sad. “My darling, my gift, my love, I’m sorry.” The bed bends in behind you, his voice drawing nearer. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”  “Can I speak honestly?” You mutter sheepishly.  “Of course darling. Always. Forever.” You gulp down to ease the clench of your throat, “our worlds are so different. Yes they intersect but there are parts of mine that you’ll never understand and parts of yours I’ll never be privy to.”   “I-we know. But we-”   “Please. I need to finish before I regret this,” you take another breath, silence settling across the two of you. “I don’t know where this is going. I don’t know what I am to you. Either of you. And you can’t protect me from what may come of whatever we are. And I don’t want what may happen to hurt you. And no matter what we do you are who you are and I am who I am and we just- and, and, and-” you search for the words to express the depths of the helplessness you feel. Instead a sob rips the sudden silence apart at the seams.  “Oh my pretty darling, may I-” you feel him inch closer. You nod wordlessly, he doesn’t need to complete the request. You’re not even sure he can see you but your throat is so tight you can’t even squeak out a yes so you have to hope he can feel the slight bounce of the bed. Like a ray of god shining through the break in the curtains a beam of sun illuminates a sliver of bed. It hits his arm first, muscular and bare. As he leans towards you the strip travels his face, the area around his lips looks red and puffy, his nose too. The slight glimmer of his cheek tells you he’s been crying. Shoulder dipping as the weight of his cheek pours over it your head naturally falls onto his.  “Have you thought about country life?” His question trails into the dark nothingness. “I think about it a lot. Taking a cart and a horse and a wife onto some unsettled land. I’d still be a king even then. Just of a much smaller domain.”   “You would. And would you rule over your wife then? And children?”  “And cows and chickens too, and any of their babies,” he chuckles wryly. “Why? Would it bother you?”   You sigh and shrug him from your shoulder, collapsing back into the half made bed. “I don’t know, my lord, I think I’d like to be a partner in a marriage more than a subject.”  “My lord? You’ve gotten so cheeky,” he says with a swat to your thigh.   “Sir. Prince. His royal highness-”  Hyunjin lets out a deep sigh, a burst of air hitting you as he collapses backwards on the bed. The air itself is hot. Laying there in silence you feel his fingertips brush the back of your hand lightly, asking for permission from you.  “Hyunjin.”  “Darling?”  “If that’s what you want-”  He grips your hand so tightly it stops you. “You know what my father -our- Felix and my father said when Felix joined our family? The decree?”   Your heart pounds out of your chest. In all your years within the castle no one dared to broach the subject to the point where you could’ve sworn it was a punishable offense. You of course were too young to remember those years clearly, shortly after the passing of the sister queen and king to your land. Not related by blood but of bonds much deeper. “Something about no more queens to follow but I thought-”  “None. We may have heirs but neither Felix nor myself is promised a queen. Nor can we make a person a queen. No more Queens.”   He’s clearly eager but you don’t quite follow. “So if you marry…” your words trail slowly, waiting for him to finish your thought.   “They would be our partner. But nothing to the land. Only ours. Not a subject nor royalty. Just ours.” His hand shakes yours, he’s either excited or scared and you aren’t quite sure, even with your eyes adjusted to the dark.  You gulp, “but surely if they already were a princess or a queen…”  “They lose all status. Making us as princes, virtually worthless to their kingdoms.”   You’re not sure exactly what he is saying or why he is saying it to you now or what it means for any of the litany of worries you’d unleashed only minutes earlier. Pressing your lips together you try to follow his line of thought.   “Darling, I will die if I have to spell it out,” he sighs, exasperated.   You remain silent. The mattress tremors with the shifting of his anxiety.   “We’re cursed Princes. A death to Princesses and useless to those seeking to increase their social capital. Please. Think.” He rolls so that his slight frame leans over you, eyes staring directly down into yours for the first time since the incident. “What do you want from us? What do you want most of all from this relationship? If it’s Queenship, we cannot grant this. If it’s power, we cannot guarantee it.”

 Hardly breathing or maybe breathing too much, you can’t decide between the two, the tension holds invisible in the air, buoyed by the humidity. Gulping hard you watch him watch you. Study you. Eyes flitting over your features searching for your answer.   “Love.” You blurt, cracking under his intensity. “Care. You. Both of you.”   Hyunjin leans over, eyes crossing as he closes in on you, his hair curtaining down and tickling your cheeks. Slowly he tilts to the side, lips meeting your cheek. “Good,” he whispers, lips tickling the shell of your ear, sending a shiver through your spine.   Sweat droplets travel down your body soon followed by his hands, carefully stripping you. As Hyunjin works to undo the various ties you realize his hands are shaking ever so slightly. It was always Felix helping you from your garments, he was faster, more sure. Hyunjin was more cautious, as though he could rip your bodice from your body with the wrong flick of his wrist. The moments between your breaths the world feels still. You can hear him breathing too, holding for a moment as he fully inhales and again as his lungs empty, deep slow breaths.  “Sorry if I-” you mutter a half hearted apology.   “Sorry? For?”   “I’m sweaty. I probably smell. I’ve been cleaning all day-”   Interlocking his fingers with yours he presses another kiss to your cheek.  “It’s hot. You’re hot. That’s all.” Releasing your hand he slips down the outside of your thigh, tracing your outline on the covers.   “It’ll get on the bed,” you giggle as his fingers run across your skin, tickling all the way.   “And?” His voice is cocky as you spread your legs easily at the mere press of his knee.   “I just made it. It’s a waste.”  “If you sleep here, is it a waste?” Hips slotting between your thighs, warm skin to warm skin, still the upwards sweep of his fingertips against your shoulder leaves a wake of goosebumps on your body.  “I can’t sleep here I-”  “If we sleep here?” Hyunjin quickly interjects. Heavy and hot his erection lays waiting on your belly, pulsing as want courses through his veins. “Together. You’ll sleep here with me? Then it won’t be a waste.”  “Hyunjin, we have beds. Our own-”  “Then the floor.” He kisses you hurriedly, “I want to have you. Now.”  Another day of half work. You sigh. Heart and head tugging you in opposite directions again. Kissing the tops of your knees he waits attentively for you. “Hyunjin…the floor?”  “Anywhere. Anything. Let me take care of you.” The kisses move down your inner thighs, slowly enough that you could stop him if you wanted. “The castle won’t fall apart if a few beds are less than perfect, darling, trust me.” Hyunjin gazes up at you, plush lips hovering above your mound, hair curtaining down to you. He looks like a lion hunched over downed prey. To be wanted so desperately, so recklessly, excites you, sending shivers coursing through your body like white hot fire.  “Sir?” Your voice shakes in anticipation. “May I touch you?”  A short burst of hair escapes his nose, mouth closing and lips quirking into a small smile. “Darling, whatever you want from me. Whatever you need from me. Take it.”

 Fingers threading through his hair, pushing it back, your gazes lock as he lowers to kiss your cunt. A spark seemingly from his lips sends tingles to the base of your spine. Tongue dipping between your folds his breath fans across you. Your grip on his hair tightens as you moan, tugging as he tries to dive deeper. The intrusion of his tongue probing has you squirming and squealing.  “Darling?” He emerges, chin shiny. “Are you okay?”   You both pant, staring. “I’m sweaty…it can’t be…I’m sorry.”   “If you weren't delicious I wouldn’t, darling. I am a Prince after all.” Licking his lips, his eyes narrow, “if it’s alright with you, I’d like to eat what’s mine.” He nips your inner thigh, leaving a red mark of his presence. Pressed into the mattress his hands hold your trembling thighs apart. He feasts as though you’ve greatly offended him by suggesting any part of you was not the perfect fit for him, growls sending pleasant vibrations into your heat. It’s sloppy and wet as his tongue works to map every fold of your cunt. Giggling and shrieking and moaning your hips buck with abandon against him until you’re both left a mess of spit and slick.   Finally you tug at his hair to pull him to you, eyes unable to focus, fingers twitching. Lips locking with his in a messy expression of lust you can taste yourself on him, not unpleasant as you’d feared. A mix of salty sweat and natural sweet musk.  “Ride me.” Hyunjin tumbles backwards, pulling you over him. His eyes rake over you, “want to watch you take me. You look so beautiful. Let me watch you.”   Quaking like a newborn fawn you straddle his hips, he looks gorgeous with his arms up, cradling his head forward. You lower your palm to his chest to steady yourself and reach between your thighs to position him. The muscles in your legs burn as you slowly take him in, inch by inch.  “Gorgeous,” he says as you finally steady on top of him. “Bounce for me darling, I think you can take just a little more.” Hyunjin thrusts upwards, jostling you.  Your eyebrows shoot up as he slides just a little deeper, just enough to kiss your cervix, stirring in your gut. “Ha-Hyunjin!” Yelping and moaning as he fucks upwards again, letting gravity push him into you. Craning back with your chest to the sky, your mouth lolls open. Primal need overtakes you as you grind back against him.  “That’s it,” he coaxes, “does that feel good darling? Tell me how good I feel.”  A shiver runs through you, a hunger that’s indescribable. The ache of absolute need opens the pit of your stomach. A thirst that no water could possibly satiate coats your throat and dries your mouth. “Hyun-hyun-sir,” you babble, “I’m-I need to use you. I’m sorry it feels so good. I feel so good.” Repeating yourself over and over you steadily grind back and forth in time to your own chants. His hands join your hips, helping hold you to him, soft murmured praises fill the fuzz between your ears. Your pace increases steadily as the want grows, body burning and exhausted but driven by the promise of release. The wave of pleasure hits suddenly, the swell rocketing you forward, collapsing to his chest as you shake. The resistance of his cock filling you as your walls clench around him has your vision swimming even in the darkness of your closed eyelids. Holding your hips he continues the slow grind through your orgasm, not enough to push you over the edge again but enough to leave you in a state of bliss.  Hyunjin smothers your shoulder in kisses, hands running up and down your body. “You work so hard,” he says with extra honey to his tone, “you did so well.” He half scoops and half rolls you onto your back again. “Since you used me for your pleasure, it’s only fair I do the same, right? What do you say, darling?”   “Please, sir,” you mewl, senses lost as your minds float amongst the clouds. “I want nothing more than to be of service.”  “Good,” he growls as he practically picks your hips up and stacks them, folding you almost in half. Nothing could prepare you for the vigor with which he fucks down into you. The angle leaves you open and vulnerable, lungs sandwiched in on themselves so you can only manage half breaths. Your legs hang half over you uselessly wobbling even with the support of Hyunjin’s torso and shoulders. The first slam of his cock rams him right into your gspot, nearly knocking the wind from you. Mouth gaping in a wordless scream as his hips pummel against your ass, your body tenses and braces itself as best it can for the onslaught. Your hands search for anything to stabilize, finally reaching up to the headboard just before the top of your head makes contact. Blurry above you Hyunjin’s chest is red and coated in a thin layer of sweat, droplets slowly saturating his blonde locks.   Hyunjin pauses, resting his head on the headboard, panting. “No matter how much we fuck you, you’re still so tight. Our darling.” He thrusts pointedly again, smiling as you squirm and squeal, speared by him. “Such a good cocksleeve.” Another thrust that you can feel tickling the inside of your belly button, crying out again. His thumb brushes against your clit as you whine pathetically below him. “Going to cum again, darling?” Hyunjin teases.  “Yes, yes, yes, yes,” you repeat, only able to find one word at a time.  “Want me to cum in you? Fill you up like the good darling you are?”  “Yes,” you continue to chant like a stuck cuckoo clock.   Hyunjins thumb rubs more insistently as he slowly drive into you, both sliding easily with the natural lubrication. Inhuman noises gurgle up from your lungs although you are unable to hear them. The rush of dizzying pleasure fills your ears and eyes as your entire body bears down on the man fucking into you with abandon. As you cum his hand retreats, grasping your hips to better steady them for him to pull up as he plunges down. The room evaporates as you feel him spilling into you with a whine of his own. Making true of his word to fill you, a mix of your juices leaking out around him as he slowly presses himself tight to you, leaning to kiss your forehead gently.  Small orgasmic aftershocks follow you both, panting and sweating in the dark. Every time he shifts you whine and clench around him, forcing whats left from his withering cock deep into you with a groan. Slowly unfurling, your tendons burn as they release from their uncomfortable position. Hyunjin continues to mouth and nuzzle at your neck and shoulder gently, almost appreciatively.  “When we marry,” he whispers, “we’ll keep you stuffed full just like this. All the time. Our darling partner. Our favorite toy. Our love.”  “We?”   Hyunjin laughs, “didn’t the matron teach you? The Princes get gifts in equal pairs accepting where there is only one, which then will be shared. And you are the only one.”

Thank you all for all the love this unintended series has gotten! I really hope you don’t mind as I take a break to write some other things. Upcoming ideas include an angsty as fuck changbin oneshot, a smutty hongjoong best friend oneshot, and a semi-professional dom!san series. As always i respond well to requests so folks who are 18+ my asks are open. I have some basic rules (18+, i reserve the right to say naaaah) so please don’t be shy. I AM actually on here even though i’m bad at it.

[brittle-doughie]

Can I send this idea. Idk if this is too suggestive. What if Y/N cookie posted a Pic of them post workout. Sweaty and muscled.

Photo Tag: Nothing beats a workout after a long day at work! Worked up quite a sweat, but my dough is crispy at least!

Muscle Cookie: Dude, I know muscle when I see it and you’ve got muscle! Let me know and we can spot each other next time!

Carrot Cookie: I could use a cookie like you with a crispy body like THAT around my farm, have any plans next week? Beet will like what she sees!

Coffee Candy Cookie: (saves photo)

Cotton Candy Cookie: I-I need to write a letter. 2 of them. 5. 10 of them…

Fire Spirit Cookie: Is it getting hot in here or is it you, Y/N Cookie!

Butter Pretzel Cookie: Your body, so crispy and fresh…I need to paint this…

Kumiho Cookie: Can you go lower, darling?

Almond Cookie: Be mindful on what you post, Y/N Cookie. It might attract the wrong crowd and it would be up to me to keep you safe. Not that I’m entirely against doing that.

Shining Glitter Cookie: (Mesmerized by the photo, she had to take a pause before a concert to share around your photo on her socials. You were a work of art with such crispy dough!)

[scimitar-and-longsword]

20 Questions For Fic Writers

Tagged by @cactusdragon517 almost a month ago lol, I'm slow to get these done.

How many works do you have on ao3? 21

What's your total ao3 word count? 202,835

What fandoms do you write for? Currently? Call of Duty and I'm still hanging around the TOG fandom. But I've hardly posted anything in years lol. Someday when my toddler is a little older I'll get back into posting more.

Top five fics by kudos:

Share Your Address - Fencer!Joe/TA!Nicky College AU - Insta-love. So much texting. Everybody wants to punch Keane.

It Feels Like Flying - Joe/Pilot!Nicky AU - This is porn. Enjoy.

Brothers Fight - Joe & Booker working through their issues post movie.

Everything I Did to Get to You - Sequel to Share Your Address (my top fic by Kudos) - AU - A few years later Joe and Nicky spend the holidays with friends and family.

Collapsing Walls - Book of Nile!!!!! - Established Booker/Nile - Booker and Nile get caught in a building while trying to assist during an earthquake.

Do you respond to comments? Yes!! I try to respond to all comments for at least a few days after I post something.

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? I don't write a lot of angsty ENDINGS. I'll Never Love Another (Prince!Joe/Knight!Nicky) has a fuck ton of angst in it, and I know some people thought the ending was bitter sweet bordering on sad.... but idk (spoilers?) no one died and they're together sooooo that's a happy ending in my book lol.

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Gees, idk lol Share Your Address?? It's so sweet you'll get cavities.

Do you get hate on fics? I never have. *knock on wood*

Do you write smut? Hardly ever. I mean I HAVE, and actually the most recent thing I posted was like straight up porn lol. But mostly if there is sex it is only hinted at/fade to black. Or buried in a 60k fic so you have to work for it!

Craziest crossover: Probably Book of Nile + Princess Bride (it's a WIP that I haven't touched in like 3 years *sweats nervously* I swear I will finish all my WIPs EVENTUALLY)

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I know of???

Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes!! A one shot I did was translated onto a Japanese website that I forget the name of lol. I've also had a podfic made of one of my one shots if that counts.

Have you ever co-written a fic before? Ashley and I tried at one point lol it was a modern AU DinLuke fic.... it kind of fizzled out eventually. @ashleyrguillory we should look at that again someday lol

All time favorite ship? Obligatory "Just one??!!" ok but idk Charlie/Claire (LOST), Korra/Asami (Legend of Korra) and Derek/Stiles (Teen Wolf) are the most important to me??? I read the most fic for Ghost/Soap, [redacted controversial ship that you could not pay me to reveal #1], and [redacted controversial ship that you could not pay me to reveal #2] lol

What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will? I refuse to give up on any of my WIPS!!! I have 4, and all of them are planned/outlined to the end... I even have multiple completed chapters for two of them. I'm not a quitter... I do take my time though lol

What are your writing strengths? Oh gees... idk someone else who has read my stuff needs to tell me this... I think I've gotten a lot of comments complimenting me on keeping characters true to canon?? idk guys! someone else answer this!

What are your writing weaknesses? I really struggle with action and sex scenes. Where are they? I, the person writing this fic, certainly don't know. (come to think of it this might be part of the reason that I don't write a lot of smut)

Thoughts on dialogue in another language? Whatever floats the author's boat.

But I personally have done it a few ways. My favorite to both write and read is just to write what they say and then identify what language is being used if the POV character can understand the language. something like: "Oh no," he shouted in Italian.

OR if the POV character doesn't understand the language I would write something like: Nicky shouted something in what Joe thought was Italian. OR Nicky said something in a language Joe couldn't quite place.

First fandom you wrote in? Supernatural lol

Favorite fic you've written? One????? You're getting 2!

I'll Never Love Another - Prince!Joe/Knight!Nicky AU - SO MUCH LETTER WRITING - This was my Big Bang in 2021, and I love the FUCK out of it. It's my favorite fic I've ever written and I reread it kind of often because of how much I enjoy it lol

Impelled by the Persuasion of Love - Canon verse Joe/Nicky and Andy/Quynh - Takes place in France during the 100 years war. I have an obsession with courtly love/chivalry and figured I should shove it onto our favorite immortals <3 - I wrote this for a TOG zine that came out in early 2021

=== Truly, IDK if I've got 20 people to tag but I'll give it a go!!

@innerslumber, @alloutofgoddesses, @ashleyrguillory, @stevethehairington, @sindirimba, @disregardandfelicity and anybody else who wants to do this, consider this your tag!!!

[sugar-omi]

Is it ok to make a request after the last one? Like everything about the eloping was just a dream in this one. And Mc is still married to Cove but after getting that nightmare they get all guilty over something that didn't happen and fear if they'd actually do something that would hurt everyone, especially Cove that badly. So they decided to isolate themselves somewhere no one would find them for a while with little explanation to Cove when they leave. Any location really like a cabin in the woods idk. They were supposed to be only there for a week then a woopsie happens and now they get stranded for more than a week. You're choice on how it ends and whether they tell Cove or not about the dream.

Seeing Cove suffer hurts me so I wanna see the MC suffer (more) :)

HAHA I LOVE IT, YESSS LET MC SUFFER !!!! also ik i wrote it as a "y/n" post but i was like imagining jamie as MC/"y/n" and inserting myself in cove's happy ending <3 lmaooo no one said "y/n" couldn't be someone else 😋 i imagine a lotta ppl read y/n fanfics with their oc's or the default name though too but yes tysm for this ask bc this heals my heart, this is smth i would do!!! one time i read 2 separate fics with character A died and in the other fic character B died n i was like "oh okay theyre happy together now<333" ITS SILLY BUT IT MADE MY HEART FEEL BETTER

[read the post mentioned above: "leaving cove for baxter"]

tags : Hurt/(No) Comfort, step 4/wedding dlc, nightmare about cheating, running away, keeping secrets, arguing <3 (cove snaps abt you leaving)

synopsis : you have a nightmare about leaving cove, so you run away to calm down. maybe you should've taken a different approach...

you wake up in a cold sweat that night.

you're shaking and trying not to wake up cove because his arms are wrapped tightly around you but you can't help the tears running down your face.

somehow you shake yourself from your husbands hold and go to the bathroom to cry...

that morning you're very distant, and since cove has to leave for work as he's been away for awhile for your wedding and honeymoon, he just kisses you and tells you that you will talk later.

when he comes home you sit him down and tell him that you've just going through a bit of depression and burn out, and that you're going to go visit lee for a week and come back.

cove frowns up, of course he understands what you're going through and he understands that things are hard but do you really need to go away?

"y/n, please. i understand you're going through something but, can't you stay? isn't there anything i can do for you?"

you shake your head, "i'm sorry, it's just 5 days and then i'm coming back. i just.. i just need some time."

cove feels a bit angry now, you just got married and everything was fine, you were happy yesterday and now you've done a total 180 overnight and won't let him help you!

"y/n you can't just leave, i really don't understand what's going on."

you shake your head, standing up and releasing your intertwined hands. "i just need a little break, i promise i'll be back soon."

you do go visit lee like you said, but after the 2nd day she leaving town for a show.

"i'm gonna miss you!" lee squeezes you in her arms, not wanting to let you go. "you just showed up, its gonna be forever before we see each other~" lee whines.

you laugh, patting her back. "its okay lee, we'll get together soon."

she pulls away, needing to leave soon if she doesn't want to miss the train. "okay.. i'll call you everyday! have fun on the rest of your trip, okay?" a worried look comes on lee's face, taking your hand in a soothing manner. "i hope you can work through that burn out."

you nod. yeah, burn out...

lee sticks her hand out the window, waving the whole way (thank god someone else is driving) until you can't see each other.

you sigh, walking to your car and make your way to the hotel you booked for the rest of the week...

the beach reminds you of your honeymoon... you aren't sure why you're torturing yourself like this.

you sigh, thinking about the dream. well, nightmare to be correct.

there was nothing inherently scary. but since it was from a first-person point of view, your mouth moving out of tune with your thoughts and everything happening so vividly, it was scary enough.

you feel tears well up in your eyes as you think about everyone's reaction.

would your ma really tell you to stay away from the house like that? and lee.. you can't imagine not talking to her.

fuck, you're crying... just thinking about everyone's disappointment and the scorn on everyone's face is enough to send chills down your spine.

you cringe, thinking about cliff and krya, their messages and how cliff looked so distraught when he saw you when he came for the last of cove's things on your nightmare.

you couldn't bare your in-laws hating you. cliff has always been someone important to you, and now he's your father-in-law. he's a sensitive soul as well, and he loves cove so much. of what had happened was real... oh man, the simple idea of how much regret cliff would have makes your body shake with sobs.

and even though you try not to think about cove's reaction to you leaving, its so prominent in your mind.

you start wiping at your tears, even though there's no one around since this is a little edge of beach off the edge of a hiking trail near your hotel, you feel so ridiculous for crying over this.

you sniffle and go to stand up.

it's getting dark, you've off the trail, and you have an early day tomorrow.

the only problem is... you're a bit lost.

you didn't realize how far you were. you're back on the trail but do you go left or right? does it matter if it all leads back to the hotel?

you swallow, you're so fucked.

everything is just going wrong.

first, you get lost on the shitty trail and don't find your way back until daybreak, and now your car isn't starting up, and the mechanic said it'll be a few days before they get it up and running.

you sigh loudly and fall back into the bed. thankfully, the hotel let you extend your stay so at least you have that going for you...

you startle from the sound of your phone ringing... it's cove.

you hesitate to pick up, you still feel sensitive, but you miss cove, and you've already texted him about the situation for the most part..

"hey, cove.."

"y/n! are you okay?" cove's worried voice crackles over the phone.

"yeah, i'm alright, uh.. listen, cove."

you trace the stitch pattern of the quilt on your bed. "apparently, it'll be a few days before the car is up and running. something about a busted something, i don't know what he said. i wasn't, uh, paying attention very well..."

cove sighs. "y/n... I'll come get you or something, and then we can talk about this, okay?"

you feel your heart pick up. "no! th-theres no need for all that, you just hold down the fort, tell the fish I said hi." you laugh shakily.

you can practically hear the frown in his voice. "y/n. why did you go on this trip, seriously. what are you hiding from me?"

cove's voice is rising and cracking with tears at the same time.

it breaks your heart. you can't answer him and it just makes cove more upset.

"do you regret marrying me or something? is that why-!"

"no!" you exclaim. suddenly regretting your outburst but you can't help but deny it since that's not it and you don't want cove to think that...

"then fucking tell me!" cove is obviously crying at this point. "all I know is my spouse left for a 'break' and is now telling me they don't want me to pick them up? be fucking serious y/n!"

you exhale shakily, wiping your own tears.

"i'm sorry..." you whisper, burying your face in your hand.

"sorry for what, y/n? leaving me after we just got married? lying to me? shutting me out?"

cove's voice is deep and his words have an edge.

he's right though, what are you apologizing for? you're acting out and letting your problem consume you...

there's silence, and then cove mutters over the phone.

"... do you not love me anymore?"

you snap up, sliding off the edge of the bed as you snatch up the phone. "no! it's not that! don't say that!" you cry, "I love you so much, cove! don't even think otherwise!"

cove is silent. since you can't see his face you can't decide if that's a good thing or a bad thing.

"you know what i... i can't take this right now. I'll call you later."

the phone clicks.

now all you're left with is silence and your own thoughts...

when you finally come home it's 11:47 at night.

cove should be asleep but instead he greets you from the door.

you swallow, psyching yourself up to go to him.

something about the way he watches you from the moment you came into view on the street, to watching you pull your bags out the trunk and then maintaining eye contact (more like boring holes into you since you can't look him in the eye.) as you creep up the pathway to the door of your marital home.

he's silent. just watching. no "hi" or "I love you" or "I missed you, I barely survived while you were gone", just.. silence...

you finally look at him. his eyes are hooded with lack of sleep if the eye bags are any tellers, and yet he stands in front of the illuminated doorway like an unmoveable wall.

your heart skips and clenched. what if he doesn't want to let you back in?

you go to speak and he talks over you.

"was it worth it?"

you gape at him, frowning at his question.

"of course you can't say anything. what did I expect..." cove pinches his temples between his thumb and forefinger.

you gather up some words, uselessly trying to grasp for forgiveness.

"i.. i thought it'd be better if i worked things out on my own... i'm sorry.." you fiddle with the keychain on your luggage. "i shouldn't have done that and uh.. I'll deal with my problems without running away.."

cove watches you blankly. he can't believe you're serious.

"you're not gonna tell me, are you?"

you don't nod or shake your head. you just look at the ground and pray he forgives you.

he stands in front of the door for awhile longer, before he takes your luggage, a little more like snatching it since he grabs it by the side of the handle and tugs it out of your hands, pulling you forward.

"come inside. did you eat?"

you gape a bit, wondering how cove can care for you in a time like this but it reminds you more of a mother who's making sure her naughty child doesn't need anything else before they receive their punishment..

you shake your head. "i'm not hungry right now.."

cove doesn't nod or insist you eat like he normally would. "shower and go to bed then. I'll join you later."

you nod, letting cove's orders sink in.

the bath water is getting cold. and the sound of the echoed sound of water clapping against the edge of the tub makes you self-conscious.

you stand up, letting the water run off of you and robotically dry yourself with a towel before slipping into the clothes cove threw on top of the sink for you.

when you slip out of your bathroom, the bedroom is dark except for the moonlight coming through the window.

you tenderly tuck yourself into bed and close your eyes. waiting for something. anything. maybe for everything to become undone or for time to move past this.

just while you start to get deep into your thoughts, tears pooling in your eyes, cove's footsteps thump against the floor, and you halt your breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

the bed dips on his side. you don't feel him leaning over you or getting into bed and so you turn around, looking at the broad expanse of his back and waiting.

"you're not gonna tell me, are you?"

you say nothing.

"not what's wrong? what happened? how can I help?" cove's desperate at this point. "nothing?"

you pause, fingers twitching because you want to reach out to him but if you did he'll just shrink away from you for sure.

"I don't know.." you finally mumble.

cove hangs his head, fiddling with something in his hand and he lays down without looking at you, flipping over once he's gotten under the covers.

you're both awake, there's no way he isn't and you touch his back.

he doesn't flinch like you thought, nor shake or tell you to fuck off.

so you creep closer. maybe that's a bad idea, wrapping your arms around him as the worst he can do is reject you but you missed him. and everything is eating you up that you just want his comfort..

he let's you, surprisingly.

you rest your forehead between his shoulder blades, curving your body against his.

you reach for his hands, finding them clenched weakly around something.

you wanna shake and cry when you realize it's his wedding band...

he let's you take it from him, and he holds onto your other hand that's tucked under his body.

you shakily slip the ring back on his finger.

maybe, maybe one day you'll tell him.

but when the next morning comes, and cove greets you with a bright smile and "good morning" that only has half his usual cheer, and he continues it for weeks until months have passed since then and it's as if nothing happened, you aren't sure you ever will.

[blamemma]

what you said about maxiel fanfics with endgame lest4ppen, yes, I agree. someone mentioned this before, but maxiel is slowly dying on ao3 while it seems to be thriving more and more on tumblr.

for me it's 50/50 because I don't mind where I'm reading, but here we have more one-shots and pieces of WIPs (which is good because it means authors don't feel the pressure to turn everything into a 50k story, so they can just post their ideas even if it's incomplete), but I personally LOVE longer stories, so I would love to read more and more about every single one of them.

and personally I just don't like lest4ppen at all. I understand the need to tag maxiel because daniel is the bad guy and the "shitty boyfriend" or whatever, but I just don't like seeing those stories 😬

will always preface asks like this by saying people can like what they like and find joy in whatever, i ain't gunna turn my nose up at anyone or anything, lestappen just doesn't make sense to meeee personally, but honestly whatever butters ur bread!!!

as someone who has dabbled here and there in this writing lark, for me there is a distinct difference in ao3 posting and tumblr posting....ao3 to me is formal, ur presenting something perfect, a fully-fledged story, a beginning a middle and an end (not in all cases but i just mean in general). most stuff i read on ao3 is fully-fledged nuanced ideas that the author has obviously spent hours of time crafting and experimenting with.

tumblr fic is inherently fun and blase and easier to throw out there into the ether and forget about really. tumblr fic doesn't need to follow grammatical rules or structure etc etc....it can just be a fun prompt game response or a quick lil fic that you had fun writing and wanna share with ur people?? both have purposes and both are enjoyable to write imo, just depends on what ur feeling and how much u want to expand on said idea??

when it comes to the maxiel of it all....idk how rude or pointed i can get here without getting into shit....so i'll try and word this gently....you have to keep the eco-system alive....i think comments and kudos are GREAT but honestly, if someone reblogs my fic with a fun few tags, i love that more, because in a selfish way, i might get 1 or 2 more readers from that because its going out to an even wider audience?? but its more than that!! engage with ur writers, message them on here and shout at them about their ideas, send them prompts, recommend their fic to ur friends...but i will stand by i think one of the best things you can do, if they make a fun lil post or graphic for their fic...reblog it...ur not only spreading the maxiel gospel, but ur also supporting that writer?? too many times on here i see people's fic graphics flop yet big blogs are leaving them comments on ao3 and look, EACH TO THEIR OWN and also i can sometimes be a bad reblogger dont get me wrong, but LIKE, there are some wildly talented authors on here who just need to be pushed into the limelight a little bit more??? idk if im wording this correctly, but sometimes there are fics that fall through the cracks because no one engages with them, and if ur an author who has put blood sweat and tears into that fic, ur not exactly going to be motivated to post another maxiel fic if u dont think ur going to get engagement from it (again, fic writing isn't necessarily about engagement or response, but let me tell u when i get a fun little comment or someone messages me about a fic i published, it inspires me to write more????)

maxiel is definitely alive and kicking, i follow some stunningly good maxiel authors, but at the same time, its about pushing forward those smaller writers as well and not thinking ur too cool for them???????????????

and so with that, this flufftober, kinktober, spooktober or whatever tober u are a part of, reblog the fic, talk about the fic and enjoy the fic

[quackquackcey]

More Than Enough

Rated E, 8k words, 2 chs. Tags: season 2 canon rewrite, 5+1 things, hurt/comfort, fluff & smut, idk. Read on AO3.

Summary:

A story about how Derek managed to find peace in his life amidst the chaos of a murdering reptilian creature, war with the Argents, and his own mind in the arms of a bambi-eyed, pain in the ass boy.~ 🐺

OR

Five times the word ‘prove’ haunted Derek, and the one person who changed it all.~ ✨

“The only way to prove yourself is through blood. Fear. Remember that.”

Peter’s voice ran through his head as he stood over Isaac, Erica, and Boyd groaning in pain on the floor, fear in their eyes as their broken bones mended.

“You think I’m teaching you to fight?” said Derek, voice hard. “I’m teaching you to survive, and you all need to learn everything that I know. As fast as I can teach you.”

And then he disappeared into the abandoned subway train car where he lived, seething, before he broke more bones.

That night, he dreamed of fires, of burnt ash and empty graves.

Of drowning guilt and searing agony.

“Naive, foolish boy.”

A warm laugh, now cold.

“You haven’t changed a bit. When will you prove that you can do more than destroy things?”

He woke up in a sweat, even more tired than before he’d fallen asleep.

Both Peter and his mom’s words echoed in his head throughout the rest of the night, as they had for the past six years, along with his own churning thoughts.

‘Prove yourself.’

Prove that he wasn’t a colossal failure. Prove that he wasn’t a walking harbinger of death. Prove that he was a Hale, that he was stronger now, that no one and nothing would stand in his way any longer.

Prove that he was an alpha.

But god, the exhaustion wore at him. He acted like he knew what he was doing, but he knew nothing, and that chipped away at him bit by bit, just as his family dying had, just as finding Laura ripped in half had, just as killing her murderer and the last surviving member of his family had—and he knew this was only the beginning.

The creature that killed Isaac’s dad, the Argents, and soon, other alphas.

He needed power.

He needed…more.

Not these high schoolers on a power trip who couldn’t even land a single hit on him.

To top it all off, as if things weren’t already beginning to spiral out of his control, of course he got himself paralyzed and near drowning in a pool when he’d gone to get details on what the creature looked like from Stiles.

“I don’t trust you. You don’t trust me,” he’d told Stiles. “You need me to survive, which is why you are not letting me go.”

Stiles let him go, pulled him back up, and got absolutely zero results from trying to call Scott.

An hour passed, or maybe it was two. Derek incrementally sank lower by the minute, but he didn’t say anything because Stiles was sinking, too—at this point, Stiles did not need him to survive if it meant dying in this damn pool.

“Hey, so since it’s looking like we might drown here, I was wondering about something that I read the other day,” spluttered Stiles, because apparently now was a great time for a discussion. “Have you heard of ‘Twilight’? It’s a book series? Has movies?”

Derek just looked at him.

“Okay, well, it’s some fictional universe where there are, like, vampires and werewolves, so I was wondering how true some of the stuff was,” said Stiles.

“…We’re drowning, and you want me to tell you how true a fictional universe is.”

“Hey, tone! I’m the one holding you up here! And if we’re drowning, then it doesn’t really matter how much sense it makes, now does it?”

“If we’re drowning, it doesn’t really matter if you know or not, now does it?”

“Don’t be such a sourwolf.” Stiles nearly sank underwater before kicking harder back up. “Oh god, I can’t keep this up, I need something to hold onto.”

Except there was nothing to hold onto, because it was a fucking swimming pool.

“Just drop me.”

“What?” Stiles spit out water as he struggled to keep their mouths and noses above the surface.

“Just drop me,” repeated Derek, because there were quite literally zero benefits to Stiles continuing to hold him up.

“What, no! What happened to all the bullshit you were spouting about me needing you to survive?”

“We’re both going to die.”

“Has anyone told you what a downer you are?”

They both dipped underwater for a heartstopping second, then up they bobbed once again, coughing up water.

“I thought that’s what ‘sourwolf’ meant.”

A pause.

Stiles spluttered out a laugh. “Was that a joke? Did you just make a joke? Now we really can’t die here so we can celebrate this occasion.” He looked around, breaths coming out heavy. “Okay. Okay, I’m going to try to get to the diving boards.”

Except they floundered and slowed down the nearer they got, and by the time Stiles made it there, he didn’t have enough strength to hold onto the diving board, so down they both sank to their certain deaths until two hands grabbed the both of them and quite literally threw them out of the water.

Continue on AO3!

[queerlilchinchin]

Write in Your Style Stream Q&A

Answering the questions posed in the interest form.

If you missed it, here is the announcement post for the streams.

--

Question: Does it have to be a full chapter of writing? Fanfiction submission, are they allowed? | Also! Love this idea :D | Are you matching people up based on submissions? or is it a free for all?

Answer: No, it wouldn't be a full chapter of writing. You are literally just rewriting the same thing that's written but in your own way. So if I said "she walked down the street, feeling sweat causing her shirt to stick to her chest; it was a blistery day, just the way she likes it," you could say "it was a steamy day. The kind she liked. The hot sweat that caused her shirt to stick to her body made it extra evident just how warm it was" or however else you would word that little segment of writing.

You're basically just rewriting what's written in your own writing style. It's like Draw in Your Style, but writing. No you wouldn't be paired up. I'm going to be making writing streams where I write a piece and then you all would be doing your writing based off of it. Later down the road, if I have weeks where I'm just not feeling the writing, I may open up to if writers want to submit their writing to use for the streams, but that probably wouldn't be for a little while.

Question: Will you be opening an actual submission thing on here or will we submit through ask? If the submission thing, is there is a tag you would like us to use?

Answer: I have created an actual blog for submitting your stuff to. It will be through submissions. Asks will be reserved for asking questions you may have about the particular stream's prompt or like... questions about the streams in general. The blog I created for all of this is @wiys-streaming. There is not a tag that'll be relevant since I won't be posting the submissions. At least not directly. They'll be read and shown on the streams.

Question: Will we have to be part of the stream? Or are you going to like, read what we wrote when you start the stream?

I actually did answer this in the official announcement post, but I'll answer again anyway. I will be reading them on the stream. I'll start with "these are the submissions from the last stream" and read the submissions along with whatever credit you want (and yes, you can request to remain anonymous if you'd prefer).

Question: How long are the games and streams gonna go on for?

Answer: I'm not sure if you just mean like... will they be an hour vs 30 minutes or if you mean am I going to be running them for months or a year or what, but I imagine they'll likely be closer to like 30-45 minutes. Not super long but not super short. And I'll probably do clips for youtube short and whatnot.

Question: Will the story or paragraph we’ll be re-writing come from you, an already established piece, or from one of the participants?

Answer: To start, me. If I run out of ideas or just need a break, then I may open it up for someone to submit their own writing for specific weeks. Maybe I'll do one month every 6 months where someone can submit their writing. Idk yet. But most of it will be me creating writing specifically for the streams (so it's not like writing from my wips or anything).

Question: I'd be curious as to the timing if we join, if we're submitting/commenting entries how long would we have to do so?

Answer: 2 weeks. I also have been tossing around the idea of having it be a month and having the first week be one prompt and the 3rd week be another and just going back and forth between those to enable writers to have more time, especially with the fact that your writing will be showcased. I'm leaning slightly to the side of the latter option.

Question: I'd like to know if this will be a monthly or weekly thing, or how often this event will happen. Thanks!

Answer: Bi-weekly. 1st and 3rd week of every month. It was originally going to be Tuesdays but as I'm starting a new job but have yet to get my new schedule and I stat the new job the day before I originally planned to start the streams, I'll have to change this. I just don't know what day to yet. :) I'll let you all know as soon as I know.

Question: What do you secifically mean by game/streams? When I post my work what's the process after, if you know what I mean?

Answer: this entire thing is just a stream that's me sharing a piece of short writing I've done and then writers recreating it in their own style. That's the entire thing, so that's what I'm talking about by "streams." I'm sorry, I don't quite understand what you're asking with this one. And there's not really a process. I read the submissions, share them on the stream and that's pretty much the process. The writers don't have to do anything other than write their own rendition of the piece I share and tell me what name they want to have credited and what (singular) website/profile they want linked to (tumblr, ao3, wattpad, fanfiction, etc).

I just wanted to end by saying thank you to all the sweet comments left on the interest form poll. :) there were many really nice comments, including one that almost made me cry because you're so sweet to be concerned that I take care of myself, even if it meant pushing this project back. Thank you guys for being so nice and considerate of me. :)

Anyway! Thank you for your patience and I hope this answered all of your questions. If you have anymore, please send them to my @wiys-streaming blog and I'll edit this post with any additional questions.

WiYS "tag me to everything" taglist: @nerd-in-distress, @jvten, @steh-lar-uh-nuhs (fyi, tumblr won't let me tag your other blog or I would have), @aether-wasteland-s, @mjrino, @cheezyratz, @accountusername, @perasperaadastrawriting, @mrblazeflappybird, @forthesanityofstorytellers, @mangofen, @bigwipscholar, @pluttskutt, @doublegoblin, @crazytechpersonzreal, @sitiart, @ashesinthewritten, @achildweanedonpoison6, @quotidian-oblivion, @world-of-my-imagination, @marmeegle, @alesseia

WiYS "tag me to important stuff" taglist: @distortedwhite, @lyssentome, @ah0yh0y, @grollow, @perlen-gold, @saltysupercomputer, @vshushmshu, @lordkingsmith, @gummybugg, @quisyop, @enne-uni, @cometkov, @shado48, @cryscal, @mary-is-writing, @elizababie, @squintclover, @schmem14, @foursixtwonineoh-pieces-of-lego, @wakkoroni, @author-a-holmes, @uncannyalien

[missvelvetsstuff]

With Friends Like You, Who Needs Enemies?

Steve Rogers x Reader, Steve x Nat, Reader x ?????

Prologue

Chapter 1

Note: idk if I like this story but I have to get it out of my head, probably 2-3 chapters left after this one. Feedback is greatly appreciated.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After Y/N had slept for almost 24 hours and eaten enough to fill her up, Nat approached her in the kitchen.

"Tony is having a party tonite, to celebrate finding Loki's scepter. He gave me his credit card so do you want to go get a dress for tonite? And maybe some clothes so you aren't stuck in Avengers sweats all the time? We can have lunch and get our hair and nails done as well." She smirked "We can find a blue dress for you, it's Steve's favorite color."

Y/N felt her face flush "Why would I be worried about what Steve likes?"

Nat grinned "I'm a spy, I know how to read people and both of you are giving off some serious vibes. Trust me, he's into you too."

Y/N shrugged "I don't know what you're talking about but I do need some clothes and I've never had a real haircut. I just chop it off when it gets too long." She thought for a minute "Sure, sounds like fun."

They left the tower in one of Tony's cars that Nat borrowed. Driving around Manhattan Y/N felt overwhelmed but something was familiar as well.

"This is all so much. I haven't even left the facility where you found me in years."

"Don't worry, I'm sure you'll get the hang of it pretty quickly" Nat told her as they pulled into a parking garage on 5th Ave. "Having access to Starks credit and cars definitely helps." She parked and they got out of the car and walked into Saks.

Nat headed straight for evening wear and started looking through the racks when a sales person approached them.

"Ms Romanoff, it's so good to have you here again. I see you've brought a friend" she looked Y/N up and down, sneering slightly at her attire. "I can see she needs our help. What are you looking for today?"

Nat glared at her "We're looking for someone who won't be a bitch because of how we look. Do you have anyone here like that?"

The sales girl, her tag said her name was Sophia, blanched "I'm so sorry, Ms Romanoff, I was just caught off guard. Of course I'm happy to help you in whatever way you need.

Are you looking for a cocktail dress?"

Nat smirked "Yes, Tony is having a party tonite and my friend needs an appropriate dress. Something blue."

Sophia stuttered "Tony Stark? How exciting. Why don't you and Miss...."

"Y/L/N, I'm Y/N Y/L/N"

"Of course. What size do you usually wear Miss Y/L/N?"

Y/N flushed "I don't know, I haven't gotten myself new clothes in ages"

Sophia pulled out a tape measure "Well lets see..." And quickly took her measurements. "A size 7 should fit nicely. I have some dresses that would be perfect for you. Please have a seat and I'll have them brought over.

Can I get you something to drink? Coffee, water, tea, soda, champagne?"

Nat nodded "Some champagne would be nice. And none of the cheap stuff."

They spent an hour looking at dresses until they narrowed it down to 3. All shades of blue. Y/N tried them all on and was overwhelmed when she saw herself in the mirror, she felt like a princess.

"I can't choose, they're all so pretty. What do you think, Nat?"

"I agree, it's too hard to choose so we'll get all three. Tony loves throwing parties so you can never be too prepared." Nat replied

Y/N shook her head "I couldn't, that's too much"

Nat laughed "too much should be Tony's middle name. Don't worry about it." She turned to Sophia "what about accessories?"

4 hours later they had all 3 dresses and accessories for each one, plus enough everyday and business style clothes to last a year. And shoes and lingerie. Nat gave Sophia a stern order to make sure it was all delivered to the tower before 4pm. Then they went for hair, makeup and mani-pedi's.

Y/N didn't know how to process everything that was happening. Less than 72 hours ago she was in her cell with no inkling that her life would change so drastically.

"Thank you so much, Nat. I just...."

Nat smirked "Don't worry about it. I have a feeling you're going to feel right at home before too long."

They went back to the tower after a late lunch and finished getting ready. At 9pm they took the elevator to the penthouse where the party was already going full swing.

Nat led her to the bar and poured a glass of champagne for both of them.

Y/N just looked around, watching people, unsure of how to interact.

Steve and Sam were playing pool when Sam noticed Steve was staring at something by the bar.

"You checking out Nat again? I thought that was over."

Steve shook his head "It never really was on, just occasional stress relief. Besides she has something going on with Bruce. Look next to her, in the blue dress. That's Y/N, we found her at the base where we found Loki's scepter. She's a mutant, turns sound into light. She was humming the other night and had this glow around her like a mist of colors. It was beautiful" he sighed.

Sam laughed "You sound smitten. Why don't you go talk to her?"

Steve blushed "I wouldn't know what to say."

"How about hey Y/N you look beautiful, wanna have my babies" Sam offered

Steve snorted "Give me a break.

It looks like Nat is busy with Bruce so I should go be a good host. Don't want to leave her alone with all these strangers. She's been a prisoner since she was a kid so might not be good socially."

Sam laughed as Steve walked away.

Y/N was looking out the window when Steve approached her. She turned and looked at him.

"It's a beautiful view"

Steve was staring at her and agreed "Yeah, it's gorgeous"

She saw he was looking at her and felt her face heat up. "So Nat said Tony throws parties like this all the time"

Steve nodded "This is actually pretty tame compared to some. Before he became Iron Man I think partying was his priority. It's still a favorite past time.

You must be overwhelmed with all this if Strucker kept you prisoner since you were 10. You'll get used to it. We are mostly a happy family." He smiled softly at her.

After the party died down the team sat around drinking and chatting. Most of them tried to pick up Thor's hammer and failed. Only Steve moved it at all but he still couldn't pick it up.

Then Ultron showed up and made a mess of everything. Y/N tried to use her powers to help fight him but was thrown against a wall and knocked out. After Ultron was gone, she came to and heard arguing. Steve helped her up and kept his hand on her back to help comfort her. Once the team decided on their course of action he took her to her room.

"I need you to stay here for now, ok? We'll be back as soon as we can" he told her gently.

Y/N shook her head "I can help. I could come with you and-"

"No" he told her firmly "We need to evaluate your abilities and work together before you get into any fights with us. I don't want you to get hurt so please be a good girl and wait here for me"

She felt a funny tingle when he called her a good girl but pushed it back "Ok. I'll wait here. Please come back safely."

"I promise, sweetheart" he kissed her softly on the lips and made sure she was safe in her room before he left.

While the team went to Africa to stop Ultron, Y/N was having dreams about Steve but with her lack of experience couldn't figure them out. The only sex she had was when Strucker forced himself on her and she thought she would never actually enjoy sex but her dreams said otherwise.

In the morning she saw what happened on the news and knew that it was Wanda messing with the Hulk. If she had been there she could have broken Wandas hex and prevented all that destruction and death.

She jumped when Jarvis spoke to her "Miss Y/N? You have a phone call from Captain Rogers."

"Umm ok how do I take the call?"

"I'll put him thru"

Steve's voice came thru the speakers in her room.

"Hey sweetheart, how are you? Did you get some sleep?"

"Hi Steve, I slept a little. I had strange dreams. My life has turned upside down.

Are you ok? I saw the news. Wanda was there wasn't she? If you had let me come I could have prevented-"

Steve cut her off "No. You don't even know if you could have helped Hulk. You aren't going on any missions any time soon.

I just wanted to let you know that we will be gone for awhile. After that mess we have to lay low. Just be a good girl and make sure you eat and sleep. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Y/N felt so helpless as she saw the teams adventures on the news. They went from Africa to Korea. She was frustrated and wanted to help but couldn't so waited for them, for Steve, to return.

When Tony and Bruce returned they barely noticed her and rushed into the lab to work on something.

Steve came to check on her and gave her a sweet kiss before she noticed the twins were with him.

Wanda looked at her "Hello Y/N. Nice to see you again"

Y/N was confused "Steve why are they here? They are nothing but trouble and can't be trusted."

Wanda cringed "I know we have done awful things to you in the past but we didn't realize how bad Strucker was, too caught up in our own rage and grief. I promise we won't hurt you. We want to help stop Ultron."

Y/N looked at Steve "If you are taking them then I should be able to go too. I can help."

Steve chuckled "I know you want to help honey but I don't think a light show will do any good."

She pouted "I can make lasers too. I hate staying here while you risk yourself. Please, Steve." She begged

Her begging did something to Steve but not something that would help in a fight. He was about to tell her no again when Clint walked by

"She's not wrong Cap we could use all the help we can get."

Steve gave in "Promise me you'll be careful. I'd hate to see you hurt."

Y/N didn't do too badly considering the circumstances. She even took out a few robots on her own, including the one that tried to get Pietro and a young boy he was protecting.

Sokovia was still destroyed but most of the people were saved. Sometimes you have to accept how things turn out.

~~~~~~~~~~

After a few days rest Y/N, Sam, Wanda and Pietro started training to become official Avengers.

Y/N and Steve started dating, taking things very slow since she was inexperienced and in no rush.

Nat was devastated that Bruce had disappeared and started spending a lot of time with Steve and Y/N. Every night he would walk Y/N to her room, kiss her good night and leave her on her own.

After a few weeks she noticed Steve and Nat seemed really close and she asked him about it.

Steve shook his head "You have nothing to worry about sweetheart. Nat and I are just friends. We've been thru some tough situations together but there's no romantic feelings. She's just lonely because she misses Bruce."

She nodded trusting him.

They went on like this for awhile until General Ross brought up the Sokovia Accords. She took Steve's side but he didn't want her involved in the fight so she made her way to the quinjet and waited for Steve and Bucky. She saw what Zemo did and the fight that came after but couldn't bring herself to hurt Tony so found herself waiting on the jet again.

Y/N went with them to Wakanda and then on the run with Steve and Sam. After months dating, Steve told her he loved her and then told her he had to leave for a couple of days to meet up with Nat for cash and intel. They met up every few weeks and he always came back in a lighter mood.

One time when he returned he asked Y/N for a favor

"I don't want to be separated but Shuri figured out how to remove Bucky's brainwashing and I want you to go help him. Just be a friend. He really likes you and I think it would be good for both of you. You're the only one I can ask, he has bad history with Sam and Nat. I promise I'll come visit when I can."

She looked at him sadly, not wanting to leave the man she had fallen in love with but wanting to make him happy and be his good girl so she went to Wakanda.

Y/N and Bucky became close friends. She didn't mind if he didn't want to talk and they would just be together. If he did want to talk she listened without judgement and she was there for his nightmares. She helped him tend his goats and thought she could have fallen for him if she hadn't met Steve first.

A couple of times a week Steve would call to check up on her but it was always brief because Nat always called him away after a few minutes. He kept promising he would come visit but something always came up.

One day, Shuri showed up at Bucky's hut where Bucky and Y/N were playing chess."I have news, Captain Rogers contacted me and told me to tell you, Thor and Hulk have returned. Asgard was destroyed and all of the Asgardians that survived are here, setting up a home in Norway. New Asgard.

That's not all, the Captain and Tony Stark have worked things out with Gen Ross and Sargeant Barnes is being pardoned. You can go home soon, back to the states but there will be a celebration in New Asgard in a month.

Y/N wondered why Steve didn't call her and went thru Shuri instead but she was trusting and believed he just had too much to do.

Y/N and Bucky spent the next month as they had spent time in the past, strengthening their friendship, enjoying nature and herding goats. They both expected Steve to show up at any time but he never did. He only called once and explained that he was very busy helping Thor and Valkyrie set the new town up. Y/N told him they could help but Steve insisted they stay in Wakanda.

Finally it was time to leave, both of them were excited at being reunited with Steve but also nervous at meeting a whole new group of people.

Steve came in the quinjet to pick them up and after a quick hug and kiss on the cheek he spent the rest of the flight talking to Bucky. Y/N realized they were best friends but she had hoped for a better reunion with her love. She sat alone trying to talk herself down from the anxiety that was building up.

When they arrived in New Asgard the whole team was there to greet them. Nat and Bruce were wrapped around each other while Wanda and Vision were holding hands. Steve was suddenly in a bad mood right after they landed and left saying he just needed to work it off. Nat disappeared shortly after.

Thor gave Y/N a fond greeting and introduced her to Val. They took her and Bucky to a dressmaker to create Asgardian style robes for the celebration the next night. Steve didn't come to see her at all so she figured he was still busy helping and she stayed up talking to Bucky until they were both exhausted and fell asleep in the early hours of the morning.

Chapter 2

[variousqueerthings]

I am being promised a deconstruction of BJ (a literal one, his construction is being dissolved and he’s So not okay) and it is being handed to me!!!

So Operation Friendship, right? That was an episode that happened. It feels like it exists in tandem with Period of Adjustment in the long-simmering-boiling-over BJ saga (and right after that he went aaaalmost off the rails in No Sweat, and I am not convinced that after Hawkeye snapping at him that Peggy’s gonna leave him that nothing would have happened, that man is as taut as one of those ropes they use to tie up boats that can smash buildings if frayed too much -- BUT I digress, it was a fun-episode, and therefore it ended in fun + that all happened in the shower which was also... a choice... as we know about showers and MASH)

(also Hawkeye is SO invested in the Hunnicutt marriage, it’s not even funny anymore)

Operation Friendship

1. BJ’s insistence that Everything Is Fine

2. Hawkeye’s insistence on playing nurse-maid, constantly staying by his bed, making suggestions for an ice pack, an insurance exam, etc. (and I have that post queued up that talks about how genders are constructed differently in the 4077th, ex. Doctor and Nurse, rather than Man and Woman, but also Caregiver and Care-needer, Protector and Protected, Senior Officer and Lower Ranking, everything that Klinger does, including “Just A Guy From Toledo” and “Maxine,” Daddy/Dad/Father and Mommy/Mom/Mother (not related to Man and Woman), Sir and Ma’am (also not related to Man and Woman), etcetcetc and they’re not necessarily as binary or rigid as they may be perceived here either!)

3. Hawkeye’s caretaking of BJ is not the same as BJ’s caretaking of Hawkeye, and BJ doesn’t like it! He acquiesced to it back in Period of Adjustment because he was at his lowest and therefore couldn’t help it + he’d hit Hawkeye earlier and I’d HC that plays into it, but it’s far more often BJ-in-support-of-Hawkeye (whether it be a scheme and/or a mental state and/or physical support -- I mean protecting him from getting beaten up of course...)

that’s their Roles! Hawkeye is messing with the Order Of Things!

4. Hawkeye’s territorialism???? His possessiveness?????????? 

5. going back to BJ’s insistence that Everything Is Fine: I just wrote in a tag that BJ s4-7 seemed to (basically, simplifying here) frame him as “sure he has issues too but it’s a war, and maybe there’s some performativity to his Self, first really highlighted by the surprise that he’d be the mastermind of pranks when he’s just a good American boy, and then seen several times ex. in the mystery of his name, but ultimately he’s trucking”

and then s8 was like “what if BJ is just straight-up losing his mind and ability to place himself in the future and desperately clawing for that future (which looks too much like the past) and possibly knowing it can never be that way, and sometimes he just snaps I Guess!

Hawkeye Is supposed to be the frayed one. He’s got Issues, that’s what everyone knows. BJ is an amiable, getting-along-with-things, Father and Husband. He takes care of Hawkeye, not the other way around! Not like this!

6. the ending of the episode once again forcing BJ to acknowledge a need for help in the face of literally being about to lose his hand. My guy. You can... ask for help sooner.... it’s...... it’s cool.......... (it isn’t)

(his hand looks so bad!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

7. Also the ending of the episode having Hawkeye relinquish his need to take care of him, again because he could actually lose his hand!!! 

What! Am! I Supposed! To! Make! Of! The! Metaphor?! Of it all???? The Symbolism???? The Dissolving Of Stability!????

8. BJ still taking the time to threaten the doctor when he’s talking Hawkeye down!

9. the fact that they both laugh about how they could’ve just let BJ die in order to get the last laugh on the hand specialist guy. It’s morbid sure, but it’s not just that, it’s... idk. The only way they could talk about how fucking close that one was? Skirting around the Ways they both went about the whole thing? Deliberately restoring equilibrium with the most tasteless joke BJ could think of, testing the waters to make sure everything is fine again

also the way they both gang up on the specialist... rewatching it, because I felt like he wasn’t that obnoxious, he was just stating that he has a speciality and would like to be respected for it, as well as literally having practised medicine for longer than either of them, while Hawkeye hovers over him and tries to find reasons to critique... and yeah, they were definitely coping by finding a scapegoat there, good thing he wasn’t sticking around for longer, they would have been such mean girls! But they needed that too in order to cope

TL;DR BJ and Hawkeye were so okay this whole episode, except for the fact that they were utterly unhinged about each other, about social (gender) roles, and about needing and giving help

[justsomeoneunordinary]

Kakashi for this one? 👀

https ://at .tumblr .com /justsomeoneunordinary/send-me-a-character-and-ill-answer-these/vjolyf8nlo70

1: sexuality headcanon

that man is SO aroace, hands down. that doesn't even need an explanation, just look at him!

unless he's being railed by gai, in which case he isn't quite so ace anymore uwu

2: otp

kakagai kakagai kakagai kakagai kaKAGAI KAKAGAI-

3: brotp

in my heart, he and tenzou are brothers. he totally behaves like an older brother around him, esp when he's being a little shit lol, i just love their relationship so much

4: notp

never liked kakairu and never will. also used to be open for obikaka but i cannot see it anymore tbh. makes me sick nowadays. (but the naruto fandom def has a problem with tagging their ships properly bc i keep seeing so many notps all the time argh) honestly, i don't rlly ship kks with anyone except with gai. i find him very unshippable idk....

5: first headcanon that pops into my head

he's a biter. not the fanon hatake = wolves hc kinda biting bc i hate that hc (kishi didn't give us much but he gave us enough to conclude that hatake = farmers, not wolves or nomads ffs do ppl not at least google the names before they come up with hc's or what), but the as a child he used to bite anyone kinda thing, so his father gave him a mask and kks just never stopped wearing it. he still bites as soon as it comes off

6: favorite line from this character

i am terrible at rmbr'ing lines but when he meets team 7 and his reaction is "my first impression of you is... i hate you all" is the fucking funniest shit to me. first, he lets those 12yo kiddos wait for hours and then has the gall to tell them he hates them lmfao king shit i love him (also, what a lying liar. they're his kiddos and he loves them)

7: one way in which I relate to this character

slouch king <3 i too, can't walk or sit with my back straight. also, reading porn in public. relatable

8: thing that gives me second hand embarrassment about this character

lmao in shippuuden where he had to read a section out loud of his porn book and the line was literally just "i love you" but he practically died trying to say it, face red, sweat running down, stuttering and all that jazz acbsjfhsjfhdjfbajfb IT'S LITERALLY JUST I LOVE YOU, IT'S NOT EVEN SMTH SMUTTY FFS KKS YOU'RE A GROWN MAN!!! also the sheer amount of times he collapses bc of chakra exhaustion like pls king that's not normal, no one else pushes their chakra to the limit you fucking drama queen. i'll never forget that one time sakura sees him at ichiraku's and goes "oh, not in the hospital for once? that's new" lmfaooooo get recc'd. ALSO kks of the sharingan has copied over a thousand jutsu AND YET WE ONLY EVER SEE HIM USE CHIDORI!! BRUH WHERE ARE THOSE 1000 JUTSU, WHERE???!!! how abt you stop using that sharingan of yours that drains you so much of chakra just to copy jutsu that you then don't even intend to use, hmmmmm??? lmao he's a genuis but he's so dumb

9: cinnamon roll or problematic fave?

neither? all village ninja's are basically the military of a fascist state, and all deserted ninjas are killers without actual permission to kill, so given the universe everyone is problematic. you could say bc he's one of the good guys he's the former but he's also such a loyal bootlicker (i love him but god kks the way he doesn't question the system at all even after everything that happened to him is so... acbjshdjsfh) so you could say he's problematic in that sense??? you can't rlly put any nart character into either of this category tbh

[cantcomeupwithsomethingcreative]

I posted 9,327 times in 2022

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Blogs I reblogged the most:

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I tagged 9,098 of my posts in 2022

Only 2% of my posts had no tags

#bridgerton - 967 posts

#shameless - 855 posts

#photography - 600 posts

#ian and mickey - 567 posts

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Longest Tag: 139 characters

#when lilly is cleaning herself at night i don't hear it but i feel it because she's lying on me and it feels like i am shaking because of i

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

So guess who thought they had a tonsillitis but it is Covid instead 😩.

3 notes - Posted March 9, 2022

#4

✨✨This or That💫💫

Tagged by the marvelous @goodkwuestion , thank you 🧡.

coffee or tea • canon or fanfiction • batman or superman • hot or cold • meadows or forests • lakes or the sea • water w/ ice or water w/ no ice • baths or showers • black or white • soup or salad • gold or silver • jewellery or no jewellery • money or power • kindness or respect • apples or oranges • flowers or succulents • digital notes or handwritten notes • science or history • ancient greece or ancient rome • jeans or sweats

Tagging: @thisfeebleheart @noelverwhelmed @beckyharvey29 @undeadlosersanonymous @sensoryjourney

4 notes - Posted October 18, 2022

#3

See the full post

5 notes - Posted August 8, 2022

#2

I love that we agree that it is possible to like Bridgerton and hate Persuasion 2022 🙌 seriously, why did they needed to adapt Persuasion? They could have just told their own story like Bridgerton. Which is totally fine to watch because no one expect anything from Bridgerton. They can tell whatever story they want to, and make whatever costumes (which I like btw 🤫) because it is a modern story, based on a modern book. And that’s makes Bridgerton into a good and enjoyable show imo

It also give the creators more creative freedom imo. Persuasion 2022 wouldn’t have been so uncomfortable to watch and so bad if the creators would have had the opportunity to tell their own story. Which the actually want to do imo.

I do not know why they need to torture Austen stories. Maybe they have no own ideas or maybe companies tell them to do austen. Idk… but Bridgerton is so successful. Make another stylish regency story. There is so many modern regency books you can adapt instead of Austen.

Sorry if my text is confusing. I am on the train and have two one yearbooks toddlers next to me 😅

Yeah I agree. And if they absolutely wanted to do Austen that way why not go with Northanger Abbey? I can actually imagine DJ as Catherine. But with the new Persuasion what pisses me off the most (and there is a lot that pisses me off) is the total character assassination of Anne. And don't get me started on all of that unnecessary ridiculous added dialogue between Anne and Frederick. Ugh. Was the 2007 version perfect? No. But compared to this version it's superior. I always loved it and so far it will remain my favourite.

14 notes - Posted July 18, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

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28 notes - Posted March 22, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[delicrieux]

…TAKING WHAT’S NOT YOURS ! ⋆｡°✩

⋆⭒˚.⋆ chapter summary. oh...oh shit. oh, god damn it.

pairing. gojo satoru x f!sorcerer reader warnings for this chapter. swearing wc. 6.2k author’s note. first of all, i want to say THANK U!!! to all of u for loving this story sm. bcs i love this story sm. second of all, im running out of young gojo images. third of all, sorry if the tags are weird, smth going on with my tumbler :( fourth of all, i think that's that for now. the mission arc is the only long arc we will have (i think, so far, idk yet), and im planning about 15 chapters in total. but we will see tbh.

ੈ ✩‧₊˚

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CHAPTER 6: the missionTM (2)

you wake up sweating, hot all over. you aren't entirely sure, but there is some unidentified warm mass and a lot of hair tickling your nose and face.

you crack open an eye, a wave of trepidation sweeping through you. your first instinct is to pull and fight. however, upon recognizing the messy, snowy-colored mop, you release your gathered breath.

oh yeah. he decided that last night, and hasn't released you still. your side feels stiff from laying in one position for hours. how has his limbs not grown numb? he doesn't even seem like he's dreaming, knocked the fuck out.

well, can't move him. even if you can wiggle and maneuver yourself and that arm just an inch or two, he will surely awaken, and there's no knowing what strange behavior he'll show if he does. you are not ready to face him yet, you need a minute to get your thoughts in order.

the sheets are tangled, as are his limbs around you. leg over yours, too large of a hand slipped underneath the hem of your shirt to rest on just above your navel – when did that happen?

you take a steadying breath and try not to shudder too hard when he breathes a little on your ear. he murmurs in his sleep, so quiet you can't quite make out, and when his mouth opens just the barest amount, something new bubbles up your spine.

yes, this is hell. it's almost an indecent way of him, even a sick one, given his strength. the irony being that even if you struggled for hours, you would barely be able to move the arm locking you to him. the rest of him isn't making an attempt at crushing you, however.

... and somehow, now that you've calmed yourself, the comfort has won out.

... and yet, just yesterday he had complained, 'could let me use your lap...? a chance...'

really... the nerve of him.

you will kill him for sure once he's conscious. but first, a coffee run, and a moment's reprieve, maybe a some yoga with meditation or a prayer.

(but first, your fingers comb lightly through the soft locks of white, only to ascertain his conditioner isn’t better than yours. damp at the root from perspiration, but still undeniably soft.)

just five more minutes... and then you'll free yourself and escape his embrace, but for now – just five more minutes...

...

...

"mmm?"

the next time you awake, it is to the low, gentle murmuring and the slight movement of his body pressing forward.

you yawn, smack your lips together and rub your eyes – or rather, an eye, since the other one is blocked by gojo's hair. the sleep is still sticking to you, so you barely feel it.

you blink a bit in a daze. sunlight bathes the room, suspiciously bright through the cracks of the curtains.

it's very hot. feels like there's no air in here. his heavy weight isn't helping either.

"no?" you feel him press the side of his cheek more firmly to your neck, voice sleepy and quiet, "dun wanna...?"

wait a minute.

you lean your head back a little so you can squint down at the man half laying on you.

"hey," his skin is ruddy, almost rosy, the blush creeping to the nape of his neck and down, lost underneath the collar of his baggy shirt, "you still sleep-talking, idiot?"

his limbs move a little, almost like he's snuggling closer. an instinct to keep you where you are. his thigh is comfy between your own.

he pauses to let out a huff of breath and pulls back a few inches so he can duck his nose into the hollow of your throat, "mmm… yeah."

huh. as if this isn't creepy or disturbing already, your neck feels incredibly sensitive all of a sudden. and ticklish. a lot ticklish. you desperately suppress any urge to pull and wiggle, and he resumes his little game of breathing at your pulse and trying to lay himself on top of you.

"get off, you're heavy," you hiss at the man like a venomous snake, voice still cracked and rough.

his arm does shift then, pulling you into a tighter grip, but that's the most reaction you get. he's clinging now, christ, who knew gojo satoru of all people was a desperate cuddler? you definitely did not want to know this, no sir!

not really wanting to admit defeat, you poke his cheek, and he should be incredibly thankful you didn't choose to slap him awake instead.

"hey, hey, wake up," your face is too warm to properly communicate any true anger, "gojo."

a single blue eye, unfocused and bleary and cast downward, flickers open and shut. the sound he makes has something deep within the pit of your stomach going into absolute shambles.

“too early,” and no, you definitely will not be shushed by a lanky, handsy, unbearably annoying and nuzzly man-child who won't let you up.

will you have to tear him off by his hair? because by god you will do so. you miss his infinity. why doesn't he have it around you anymore? pause. didn’t you throw a shoe at him yesterday? he didn’t even need to dodge it like a clueless middle schooler faced with a girl’s wrath for the first time.

is it just always off now? he was fine with the mosquitos, but it seems that whenever no immediate threat is in sight (besides your mindless, violent tendencies), he doesn’t bother keeping it up.

your eyes narrow. something’s fishy, and this hypothesis requires thorough examination. this, however, has nothing to do with the odd thrill that shoots up your spine at the idea. no, you are like shoko, and enjoy a good experiment.

but, "oh god. this is disgusting, can't believe i woke up to this."

he burrows his cheek in the dip of your clavicle, lips dangerously close to skin that should be uncontaminated, though it’s likely too late already. you might’ve caught the gojo cooties.

"yuck."

his shoulders move a bit. you suspect he might be laughing a little.

"i need a to be ducked into a sanitizer tank," but still you won't push him or kick.

his hair tickles the curve of your jaw, and his weight isn't all that oppressing, to be honest. maybe you’re exaggerating a bit. your hand brushes back stray white locks so they won't touch your skin, and you push them off of your nose. then, because why not? you comb through his hair again, with the intention of grabbing the scruff and tearing him off like a leach.

in response, gojo lets out another of those sleepy little noises.

"ugh," you whine without heat and scratch his scalp, which was not your goal at the start of this endeavor, but it’s too late to back out now.

he leans into the touch. his eyelid flutters, revealing a sliver of ocean eyes and a hazy expression.

it's just the weird, groggy miasma, you think, the light blurring your vision so you have no hope in deciphering the subtle twitch in that tiny smile of his. no chance to recognize the sudden flare and darkening of his pupils and the twinkle that now sparkles, glints off his eyes.

then:

"well,” the lilt and timbre of his voice is something you certainly don’t like. you feel that offending hand on your stomach twitch, “if this is how it is then good morning to you too.”

you only realize that maybe it was his entire intent to make this as uncomfortable as possible, to provoke a reaction and give you a hard time, only because of that tone – playful, honey sweet with that smug, drowsy smile.

it's absolutely sickening how pleased he is, even if still sleepy. you feel that this image will be burned into your retinas forever, and you’ll be forced to relive this moment each time you close your eyes.

then, in a rush, realization hits you like a tidal wave: gojo has slept with you. hugged you to his chest for hours. and just a few moments ago, he'd been drooling.

you push and shove him in a panic. with force. he stumbles backward and blinks, disorientated. his stupid blue eyes stare and don't quite register what's happening.

"get away from me. get away!"

he lets you, blinking rapidly before throwing his head back and bursting into an all-out, cackle of a laugh.

"so energetic!" his voice cracks a little.

"need a shower. need to disinfect," it’s a quiet mantra you mumble, in such a hurry to scram that you almost fall of the bed in your haste.

he laughs harder. it is contagious, you are finding. it echoes around the empty room.

his cheeks are colored red, eyes scrunching into lines. your stomach turns. the sight unnerves you greatly.

... or maybe your stomach is cramping because your teeth are already gritting.

"i should kick your face in!” you announce, grabbing at the blanket that twined around your ankle like a vine and holding it menacingly, as though you plan on strangling him with it.

gojo stops laughing after a moment, head tilting sideways, "how mean. you’re giving me mixed signals, ya know that? looked pretty cozy and relaxed all curled up to me."

there it is. a sudden pulse of shame and indignation, mixing with annoyance and rage. you feel like an explosion waiting to happen.

"i was held against my will and now i have your spit and sweat all over me!"

"all over you?"

"don't make it weirder than it is!" and now you have your finger pointing, finger jabbing angrily toward his smug mug. you don't even feel the same sympathy toward him anymore, not that you ever did in the first place, but there was a very concerning inkling somewhere in that gooey, mushy bowl in the back of your brain. the darkest corner.

"alright, alright," his smile is that shit-eating kind, but, like, a tad bit sweeter now. his blue eyes flicker a few times with that damn amusement, but his pupils are still large. it must be because the room is still quite dim.

he stretches and raises his arms over his head to crack his back. you do not note his shirt lifting a bit to reveal the downward slope of his narrow hips and lean stomach. that’s none of your business, and you are not interested in the sight.

"you gonna stand around or are you gonna go scrub your skin with bleach already, kami?”

"don't call me that. don't speak to me ever again," your fingers dig into the space where your heart is, ready to claw it out in panic, "oh god, i probably caught something from you. like debilitating dumbass syndrome."

that, somehow, makes him burst back into loud laughter again. he almost falls over, wheezing. he's lucky, too, that you can't kill him. you’ve never seriously tried, only because you know he’d manifest as some deranged curse to haunt you for the rest of your likely miserable and short sorcerer career. retirement rates aren’t good for your line of work, and you’d rather not risk it with gojo satoru.

but christ do you wish to try.

his laughter dies down when he checks his phone for the time.

"oh fuck," he says. you startle out of a particularly sweet daydream in which you bury him in your backyard, only so you could cow and yell at him every day after college.

"what? what is it?"

"it's like 2pm."

"..."

"yeah."

*

there wasn’t really much discussion on what to next after your showers. the atmosphere was tense – for you, at least. gojo seemed unaffected, which was something you expected. despite his oddly unassuming disposition (which he holds up for pretenses, of course, innocent till proven guilty in the court of law), you have uncovered something interesting. his plan. it struck you when you glared at his scattered things when he was scrubbing your sweat off of his skin in the bathroom.

gojo satoru has decided to fully abate his old form of torment and switch to full terror. maybe it’s been obvious for months, but now you’re absolutely certain. he is, as a sort of bon voyage to your last year of college, trying to fuck with you. royally fuck with you, screw with the neurons and synapses, because verbal abuse isn’t enough – he needs to change the chemistry of your brain.

the worst part? it’s working.

you’re very concerned for your fragile mental state. it’s barely glued together by hello kitty plasters, held by trembling hands. shoko can’t heal you if you completely lose it, and you feel that if he continues on this route, you will. you’re already letting him take great liberties, what will happen in a month? two months? will the stockholm syndrome finally take hold? will you lose any semblance of autonomy, be dependent on his attention like too many people already are?

no, no way. you’re way cooler and stronger than them. you just need to survive, and your track record for that is so far spotless. thus, you just need to wane out the year and then say, “goodbye! forever!” and retire somewhere unknown to become a farmer, start a new life under a new name, and hopefully, gojo would have moved on to more important matters and people by then, and he won’t try to find you.

you will miss your friends: shoko, getou, utahime, haibara, nanami, damn, even ijichi and mei. but some things are necessary. you mourn them all for a moment, the things that could have been in this fantasy you have fully submerged yourself into. if you have any pets, you will name all of them after them.

someday, this will all be nothing but a distant memory. you’re not yet sure how you feel about that.

once out of that horrible room with those horrible memories, you make your way down the rickety stairs. the inn is small and smells like damp floorboards and soup, which only reminds you that you���re hungry. after ordering the sweetest things on the menu, the two of you begrudgingly settle on one of the empty tables. thankfully, gojo’s being gracious and allowing you some personal space, so rather than sitting pressed next to you, he sits across. you contemplate going somewhere else to eat.

the commotion from outside catches your attention. curiously, you peek through the window, seeing the happy villagers carrying boxes and jovially exclaiming. odd. for a little nowhere village cowering in fear because of two (?) curses terrorizing the woods a mile north from here, they sure seem to be in high spirits. maybe it’s true what they say about city folk – too cynical.

“huh,” gojo sounds, resting his head in his palm. you can’t be entirely certain, but he seems to be idly watching the people set up and prepare for something – a small festival by the looks of it, with red lanterns and food and stands where children can gamble for toys, “a local holiday?”

you shrug. you don’t want to talk to him. the prospect of opening your mouth and breaking your streak of icy silence would make you feel like a loser, and you don’t need any more negativity today.

two men stumble into the establishment, sweaty and grimy from the scorching heat. they’re conversing loudly, so it’s not even eavesdropping when you hear, “bless those sorcerers!” your head ticks, instantly, and so does gojo’s, “exorcising those curses—“ and that’s as much as you need to know. you stare at gojo, and he stares at you, and the two of you seem to be sharing the same line of thought:

                  what!?

“the curses were exorcised?” you pipe up as the men pass, and your streak isn’t technically broken since you’re not talking to gojo, so you still win.

one man claps you on the back, “aye, the sorcerers arrived this morning!”

“we’re prepping a little celebration in their honor,” the other adds and pauses, appraising your appearances – your crisp summer uniform, gojo’s designer sunglasses, the very real and very suspicious naginata leaning by the windowsill where you can quickly reach in case trouble arrives unexpected, “…you kids got business here?”

“just passing by,” gojo chirps, “we’re travelling. got a thing for remote locations hard to find on a map. sparing a look around your lovely village was simply a whim of ours. quite the picturesque town, if i do say so myself, eh kami?" and he kicks your foot under the table.

“yes,” you chime stupidly, “very picturesque. as stated previously.”

"thanks!" and another clap of a heavy hand on your shoulder before the men continued chatting away, entirely satisfied by gojo's cheesy tourist attitude and your tacked on fake interest in small village life.

the inn keeper brings out your breakfast-lunch and swoons at gojo, which he’s happy about. she seems to remember you, too, and her smile dims, “enjoy your meal.”

she returns to the counter.

you stare at gojo. gojo stares at you. if one listened closely enough, one could hear the tick tick tick of a time bomb.

so not only did you sleep in the same bed, you slept in so late that another pair of sorcerers arrived to do the job for you. it happens, sometimes – the information on who’s dealing with what doesn’t reach kyoto (or tokyo, too, even in tokyo) – and the faculty just throws in whoever’s available. usually, the pair that was assigned first on the documents is already done by the time the others arrive, but in this case. this case. this case, holy shit, yaga-sensei will be pissed.

gojo picks up his fork and knife, maybe to arm himself, “…so—“

“don’t.”

“just—“

“do not speak.”

“’s just funny to me, and i would really enjoy telling someone about it, which is currently a very limited audience consisting only of one, so if you could, ya know, lend me an ear for a hot minute—"

"don't say it."

"maybe i’ll yell it like on a megaphone. what then?“

smug, heartless, shameless bastard. your glare could cut him in half. if it had a tangible quality, he'd already be long since shredded into bloody little gojo pieces and stomped beneath your boot.

he huffs a laugh and rests his cheek in his hand again. it feels like he's squinting at you despite the shades, which only infuriates you further.

you kick him under the table, landing a solid hit on his shin. he yowls.

*

so, what now?

what a fuck up. and to think you assumed things can’t get worse. they always can.  a valuable lesson learned, and next time yaga-sensei assigns you as gojo’s babysitter, you will plead on your hands and knees to not go. if he still insists, you will mysteriously disappear for a bit till gojo satoru himself locates you somewhere in south korea and drags you back by the ear.

so, what now?

it’s almost 5 pm. the walk to the nearest town with a bus still on the clock is about 3 hours, give or take, but since the heat simmers, it would round out to 4. you’d be exhausted by the end of it, and then you might miss the only bus to hitoyoshi, and then miss the train back to tokyo and be stranded. you would crack. start crying. you already feel like crying looking at the bagged goldfish swimming idly on the counter. the man behind the stand notes your expression and amicably says, “the games not set up yet, but if you want, you can buy one.”

“no thanks,” a sigh.

“why not?” gojo asks, patting his pockets for a wallet, “i could buy us one.”

“us?” you raise a pointed brow.

the man glances between you, smile brimming. he holds up a finger, like he’s about to lay some wisdom on you, “a pet is a great purchase for new couples! i learned a lot by keeping a cat with my wife when she was only my girlfriend.”

your mouth dries. no, literally dries, as though every drop of spit leaves in a hurry through the corner of your lips. gojo, on the other hand, is smiling wider, glasses  drooping down his nose a tad bit, and the angle makes his gaze hard to discern. there is that gleam, and it terrifies you. he clasps a hand on your shoulder suddenly, the heat of it immediately burning through the cloth.

"isn't that so kind of you! i'm sure my girl would love something like this. you're so knowledgeable, sensei."

god damn him, the suck up. you twist in his hold but can't shake him off no matter how much you squirm. he tightens his grip in retaliation.

the shop keep is smitten instantly by gojo's clearly insincere but handsome act and nodding along.

"yes, yes," he replies, "i should know, being old and married for years now, that animals make for excellent companions."

"wow, lucky me. come on, kami," and now that hand is looping around your waist, pulling you into his side. you resist the urge to kick him between the legs, "pick the fish you want. maybe a white one, so it would remind you of me."

you say through grit teeth, "i rather would not."

the man laughs. if a pin dropped, you would hear it. the world is suspended, and only the little squeaks and chirps and twitters of the fair and children exist, "ah, got together recently, did ya? we were like that years ago as well. looking at you two takes me back.”

“we did, in fact, just start dating,” gojo confirms, and you try not to balk, “won her over eventually with my endless wit and charm.”

is the charm in the festival with you? you don’t think so. the wit’s buried six feet under, right next to where either one of you will end up by the time the night’s over.

the man displays a particularly expensive fish, “well then, i recommend this one as your first pet. it swims prettily.”

"do you take card?" your tormentor asks.

"ah, no, cash only."

gojo deflates. just a bit, shoulders sagging. his fingers dig into your flesh uncomfortably for the short moment, "how unfortunate. we seem to be out of pocket change..."

oh thank god.

the man snorts a little, and waves it off, "look, i've got to stock up the shelves before the event properly starts. come back a little later with the cash, yeah? it will be ready for your lovely lady," he glances at you, "would that be fine?"

you blanch. if not for your heightened awareness and precarious placement, gojo wouldn't have noticed the slightest tremble of your distress. even through that, he remains impassive and compliant, and yet somehow still smug as fuck.

this is terrible. his presence is overwhelming. this particular brand of evil can be described in no other way but indescribable. you wonder if the gods are watching the scene and feel sorry for you. surely someone is out there trying to save you, otherwise the sheer discomfort of it is not fair.

a light bulb flickers up in your mind when you feel his thumb rub a thoughtful little pattern on the side of your waist. if this approach works so ridiculously well to humiliate you, would reciprocation work to embarrass him? he's definitely not expecting it. he's probably waiting till you grind your jaw to dust by the way you're clenching your teeth so tightly.

there is a newfound surge of energy and purpose, and before he see what's coming, your hand squeezes his. it makes him freeze, and your lips curve just a fraction upward, "it's alright, thank you, though," you turn to look at gojo, "ne, satoru, let's continue walking."

he blinks. once. twice. his throat constricts, and there is a light dusting on his cheeks that didn't occur earlier. this makes your grin even wider, because holy shit, it worked! gojo satoru is unnerved, possibly shaken, a little unbalanced, and surprised.

good, now you'll have power for the rest of this whole ordeal.

you pull your hand back, and he lets you. a final piece of wisdom slips through the stall, "the pleasure is all mine. come back any time if you change your mind!"

once a few feet away, a little more confidence bleeds back into him, and he sighs, "well, that was a bust. he could have slipped us the fish on the low."

"did you honestly just imply that i was your 'better half' and wanted a goldfish with you?" you scoff.

"well, you seemed so passionate about it that i wanted to help."

"what?"

"you were ogling the fishes."

"i was sulking,"

"ha," he slings his arms onto your shoulder.

"get off," and he doesn't. he ignores you, because he does whatever he wants, and currently that is leeching onto you without a care, even though there's plenty room for him to move anywhere in a wide berth.

"so, how about it, kami?"

"how about what."

"want to hang out and pretend to be lovers? it'll be fun."

what a bizarre thing to say. how weird and unsettling, so foreign, so disturbing, the audacity of some people is really a thing to behold. "not on my life. i think i'd rather die, so keep walking, thank you," you give a gentle shove. he is a heavy bastard, but at least he's not hugging you to suffocation this time around.

"but we might get some free shit," he whines, and now he is actually wrapping an arm around you, locking your body to his in some cruel joke. it is. you know it is. a joke, because he enjoys the look of mortification and absolute shame in your eyes, "you called me satoru so sweetly. no going back now."

"i—" no. you can't. there's no benefit to you, save for possibly some free candied fruits or some such, which you don't even want.

you can't win at his game. his momentary lapse was just that – a momentary lapse. everything's been returned to how it was before. your life has just gone into an endless loop where there is no clear winning route.

satoru.

god, don't think about it.

"come onnnnn," he pleads again. his breath puffs down the nape of your neck, sending involuntary goosebumps.

you need a bath.

"will it shut you up?" you groan in despair. the sky is blue, but today, it's the shade of gojo's stupid, stupid eyes. it's inescapable. it's smothering and making you nauseous. a goldfish in a plastic bag would have made for better company.

he ponders for a long, long second before shrugging, "probably not."

of course. what the fuck, “release me.”

"that's no way to talk to your boyfriend."

and that's the straw that broke the camel's back. he's the epitome of infuriating, the person who would haunt your waking thoughts at night till the day of the very hour you take your last breath, and the cherry atop his ice-cream sundae of unpleasantness, the sole reason why, while cursing the gods at the sight of the sun rising and bringing forth the dreaded day that will spell the end of your sanity, your palms would clench and open, itching for his neck.

you really, really, really, really, really don't want to touch him, because everything about him rubs you the wrong way, but—

your hands reach behind him and grab a fistful of his hair, "listen here, and listen close, asshole," you threaten, "in no universe whatsoever will i, in a thousand, ten thousand lifetimes, consider you my lover, romantic or platonic, in a romantic and platonic sense, my confidant, my support, my comfort, or my best friend. our lives and our goals will never intersect, except for work, which i hate enough. do. not. look. down on me."

he snickers, even though his cheeks tint the slightest shade, "there you go, using big, grown-up words and getting all touchy."

if there is any space at all between the two of you, he closes it instantly, squeezing your sides tight and rocking you side-to-side, the world still spins despite this, "look, all joking aside," he huffs. a serious turnabout? unlikely, you doubt he can manage one, "we're stuck in this for the whole evening. if you play nice, i'll give you strawberry cake on the train ride home."

he pauses, a playful and almost genuine glint entering his eyes, "how about it, kami, work for your cake like a proper adult."

"like i want your dumb cake," you kick his ankle.

he gasps, exaggerated and theatrical and definitely a lie, "but i offered to share!"

"fuck you--"

"after i offer you food and a slice of me, this is how you treat your lover."

"holy--!"

"can't believe you, baby," he whines like a scorned, battered housewife, as though anyone would ever put up with his personality and stay loyal.

he doesn't stop squirming, and he doesn't stop humming, and he doesn't stop caging you like some big, stupid, annoying, dumb, hideously unbearable golden retriever who's never, ever had his food on time. the bustle and chatter of the fair fade away, and all that's left is the muffled blood flow in your ears.

and you're certain your brows are fused from the crease between them. he won't leave. not without some concession on your part because he's a miserable, spiteful asshole.

noting your frazzled expression, something eerie overcomes his features. you don't recognize that look.

he calls your name, tentatively. it rings like a bell through your foggy state. the gears churn in your head till the fuse inside goes off. no. he has no right to say your name in any manner, nor speak it so softly, nor call out so quietly. not while this man's got a face and personality so vile it almost rivals his skin-to-skin contact he insists upon.

his mouth opens again, the threat of your name on those lips already forming, and, nope. no fucking thank you. this is as bad as listening to a radio station where the words are scrambled and all that’s heard is white noise.

and you're thinking, there's only so much you can take. the amount is non-zero and yet also infinite in value, but now is certainly past the threshold of how far a man ought to be allowed. you're done, finished, kaput, all those buzz words that express resignation, and there's only one route forward.

if he refuses to leave, and you can't beat him, it only makes logical sense that,

you should join.

you release your death grip on his hair. the dappled sunlight forms the shadows of leaves and branches on the road, illuminating a line down your profile, and his, too, the way you stand angled a bit away but not a foot of distance between you both.

you, slowly, reluctantly, swallow the bile lodged in your throat and put your hands on his shoulders. no doubt you see the quiver on his smirk, which in turn sends a smugness unfurling from your core. the hapless discomfort isn't wholly yours. the awkward silence and stifling heat doesn't linger.

is this a draw? a mutually assured victory. perhaps a peaceful and amicable stand-off that leaves the both of you worse for wear.

"enough," you say, "satoru."

for once, he falls silent. hums, approvingly, and loosens his hold a little, like he’s trusting you not to run away.

"a truce? interesting choice," his lips are so, so close. your cheeks flare in belated realization, and in terror. it's mortifying.

and what the fuck, how the fuck is he so close?

your eyes avert quickly, avoiding his stare, and just about miss the tiny curl in his lips, so, so close. you can count his eyelashes, but you don't want to.

"you're blushing,"

"don't flatter yourself. it's the weather."

"tsundere."

"creep."

"it's kinda adorable, in a pathetic way."

"gross."

"let's hug it out. one hug could end the war, kami, i'll even let you top."

christ, he can't take one normal interaction and not make it weird and off-putting.

"not for all the yen in the country."

he makes a sad noise. god, his eyes are pretty. beautiful, in an objective way. if not for everything else, he could have gotten anywhere by batting his lashes a few times, and he definitely has. it's an unavoidable truth. gojo is striking in the worst way. his hands twitch a bit at your back, and you realize you've been staring like an idiot.

suppose being entangled in a fake relationship with someone that looks like gojo isn't the worst possible thing in the world. if anything, it will make this country crowd impressed how you managed to snatch him (for the simple and foolish reasoning that he's handsome). it's still a terrible idea and an outcome you will lament till the end of the day and maybe afterward, too.

objectively, objectively you are willing to admit he is stupidly, unfairly beautiful. if only his personality wasn't a sewer.

"by legal requirement as my new girlfriend," at least one hand has released you from its iron grip, but only to present itself as an offering, "you must hold my hand."

you do not do anything. not even react.

he makes a grabby motion, "c'mon, i'm getting shy."

"no."

"this is in the spirit of unity."

"how do you even come up with this stuff?"

"are you refusing to take me, your lover's, hand?"

"stop saying that."

"hold. it."

"no."

"i deserve to be held," he states, frowning.

the most annoying part, perhaps, is the fact that you can't bring yourself to do anything against this bizarre behavior. there is no option where it would be tolerable. even holding your pinkie as a compromise might result in him losing his marbles. god, what else will he demand of you? a kiss on the cheek? a kiss, full on lips? a deep and long and filthy one, with plenty of tongue? and he won't leave you be till you take his stupid hand and grip it?

he clears his throat.

gojo satoru may not have a moral compass or sense of logic or order, but he is nothing if not determined and hell-bent and resolute on the things he wants to have. which is, apparently, you, or rather your utter, unending torment in the form of public mockery.

"just hold it," he says, this time a little less insistently, "until we're out of the market. we look suspicious and out of place, standing around like this," as if they're not glaring at you two due to your obnoxiously loud bickering and general displeasure on being in each other’s presence. as if this ruse will even work, as if the people around you don't have eyes or ears or common sense.

you sigh, heavy, burdened and dreading. he, stupid and so very arrogant, considers the job a success as he makes that self-satisfied little sneer. his fingers close in, and you're about to surrender your pride and hopefully nothing else, when—

the sound of your name echoes through the whole festival. maybe even miles further. the two of you spring apart like electrocuted, and maybe you just were, because your heart is all the way in your throat and you feel like you might pass out.

a turn of the head. clambering past the people is utahime, looking disheveled, eyes crazed, breathing shallow. she slams into you full force, which would have probably killed you if your arms had not automatically opened to smooth her landing and envelope her in a big hug, "you!" her finger waggles as she turns to gojo.

"me?" he blinks.

she scowls, and that is answer enough. but her expression melts instantly faced with your surprise, "and you!"

"utahime-senpai?" so maybe your prayers have been answered. someone familiar is here. someone trustworthy and respectable and honest and righteous.

"oh, i'm so glad to see you," she sighs into your shoulder, "i could sense that freak as soon as we arrived, but i didn't think you'd be paired with him. it's so unfortunate."

he's almost offended. just a tad.

she pulls back just slightly so she could lock her hands around your shoulders. once again, you're like a fly tangled in a web. this interaction, however, you don't mind, since you love her immensely, "but now that i've found you, let's enjoy the festival! mei's also here, i think she was checking the yukatas, but none were up to her standard. figures."

your life has resumed. finally. you smile so wide your cheeks ache, and you feel as though you hadn't smiled in months, "i'd love to!"

she nods, decisive, and steps aside a bit, her attention directed fully to gojo who stands, useless and kind of a bore, observing. he looks as though he can't comprehend the fact that you have normal, pleasant friends, because he's incapable of normal interactions.

"look. you," utahime crosses her arms, "stay out of our way and don't even breathe in her direction, got that?"

"what? the hell did i do now?"

"exist."

"always so cruel, utahime, can't we play nice and be friends, eh?" he coos.

she gives him one long, condescending look, eyes lingering over every bit of him with thinly-veiled distaste, "no," is all she says before clasping your hand and tugging.

her hand. and it's in yours, which you were supposed to give to him. and there goes your good mood, and all the hope of surviving today, because now he looks upset. his face and aura conveying annoyance in a way you've seen rarely.

but it splits into a smug grin. so sudden, "alright," he chirps, "where are we going?"

"you are not invited," utahime spits, "get lost,"

"what?"

"i said scram. beat it. beat it!"

"but i came with—"

she turns to you, easily speaking over him, bright and cheerful, "there was this candy store with really great taiyaki, wanna check it out?"

"sure!"

and then you two are gone, leaving gojo behind.

...

you take a glance back, a second of pity entering your brain as you glimpse his tall figure slowly shrinking amidst the people, and then you return your attention back to your friend.

*

"ne, by the way… if you and gojo arrived earlier, why didn't you exorcise the curses?"

"ah. that. yes. that’s gojo’s fault. we got lost because he can’t read a map since he’s stupid. but that’s not important. how many curses were there, anyway?"

"one special grade and a few second grades. not gonna lie, it was pretty tough."

"how come?"

"the special grade ate a cursed object. we managed to extract it, but, i think it was more dumb luck than anything."

"what was the object?"

"sukuna's finger."

oh. shit.

"hey, fireworks! where’s my camera? aha! okay, say cheese!"

"...cheese."

additional author's note. imagine getting dumped at a festival by your enemy and then getting dumped a few months later by a kfc by ur best friend, gojo keeps catching Ls lmaooo

tags (marked couldn’t tag). @shokosbunny , @jotarohat , @alygator77 , @fortunatelyfurrygiver , @finnydraws , @mastermasterlist1p1 , @eolivy , @letsmyy , @staruus , @k0z3me , @bqvz , @damnshorty , @kaeyakaikai , @n4melesspers0n , @midnightwriter21 , @sillymercury , @byakuya61085 , @stillnotherapy