#ig i want to keep the silver on the face to just his eyes so they pop even more??

[dizzybizz]

bs and bh colored headshots or smth idk i really liked how they turned out

[sukirichi]

[ DUSK ‘TILL DAWN : 015 ]

“we who bear the burden of the crown do not need to love. you only need to stay here, with me, in power, in greed, in lust – in victory.”

cw. modern royal au. angst. physical violence (not to the reader.) manipulation. lying. angst. hurt and a little bit of comfort ig??

notes. feedbacks / reblogs/ comments are appreciated <3

wc. 10.4k

series masterlist 

[ FIFTEEN ] scattered ‘cross my family line, i’m so good at telling lies – that came from my mother’s side, told a million to survive. . . i can’t forget, i can’t forgive you. ‘cause now i’m scared that everyone i love will leave me

“This was a mistake. We should get divorced.”

The tranquil song of the sea was deceptive. A vast expanse of silver under the soft glow of the full moon caressed Rintaro’s face, his handsome face heartbreakingly heartbroken. The moon hung low in the sky, casting a serene, almost ethereal light upon the two of you. On the distant coast, a lighthouse flickered, its beam briefly piercing the darkness before vanishing. The momentary light was enough to let you see – the truth, the split-second show of vulnerability within his eyes before it left only the memory of its glow.

Rintaro stood in front of you, at an arm’s length away but your heart worlds apart. The long line of spray marked where the sea met the land, its boundary evident. There, where the moon’s loght turned the sand into a luminous carpet beneath your feet, the waves lulled your racing hearts into quiet murmurs swallowed by the breeze.

You listened to his words – words that carried the weight of an ending unforeseen. Disbelief clouded your mind. You refused to accept what you just heard. Turning your head the other way, you bit down on your lip, hard enough you tasted the coppery tang of blood.

The rhythm of the sea was like the lilt of your heartbeat, steady yet trembling. It began, ceased, and began again, each cycle mirroring this endless round of circles you and Rintaro ran in – to loving, to hurting, to forgiving. Was this how ended? In a poorly-timed farewell?

You always knew this moment would come. Someone would have had to say goodbye. You just never thought the words would come from his mouth.

Your feet rooted deep in the sand, you listened to the melancholy refrain of waves crashing against each other. The moonlight reflected in the water, a silver path stretching into the unknown. You stood there, letting the sea speak the emotions too deep to be said out loud.

And what a moment it was – with the beauty of the night, the serene majesty of the sea, and bittersweet flicker of candles behind you.

It would’ve been easier if the sea held your sadness, with the moon as your witness in your quiet despair, the cliffs holding onto their stone each memory you knew you’d keep for many years to come. The night air, sweet and cool, carried away and brought with the wind your unshed tears.

This was a mistake. We should get divorced.

Rintaro’s words echoed in your mind, a cruel reminder that some stories, no matter how beautiful or tragic, all had its end.

“What did you say?” you licked your lips, forcing a smile despite the wobbliness of your knees. It couldn’t be, right? The night was going well. Fate couldn’t be so cruel – he’d just begun to love you. “I must have heard you wrong.”

Your husband turned away from you, his grip on the bouquet tightening. You watched as the flowers crushed between its force, its beauty drained with one just hand.

“You didn’t. I meant what I said – we should end this.”

“Why?”

His head snapped your way. “What do you mean, why?” he hissed, the bouquet slammed on the ground as he gestured to the air. His eyes were blown wide, frantic and desperate. “Look around you. Don’t you realize none of this feels right? Let’s drop the act, Princess. Neither of us truly want each other, and don’t tell me I’m wrong when I see the way you look at me.”

You reeled back, unknowingly clutching at your chest. “And how do I look at you?”

“Like you’re thinking of ways to get rid of me,” he spat out with a laugh, “Like-like you’re looking for the man who courted you two years ago, the one you truly wanted to marry. Well, I’m sorry to disappoint, because you’re not going to find him. He never existed in the first place. Whatever it is you’re looking for, you won’t find it in me,” his eyes blazed with fury, but then, as if the fire within him had been doused, his hands fell limply at his sides. “But you may find him in someone else.”

Rintaro’s gaze dropped to the floor. Sorrow filled his eyes, his expression softened before he spun on his heel. Turning away, your husband stepped forward.

“Take one more step–” you threatened him, hands balled into fists. “–and I will make you regret it.”

“Do your worst,” came his tired reply, his shoulders slumped. “I couldn’t care less.”

His steps were quick, as if he couldn’t waste any more time in getting away from you. It made blood boil within your veins. Before you could notice, you’d already crossed the distance in one breath, furiously grabbing him by the elbow and spinning him to face you. You were certain you look crazed – your face flushed, your cheeks damp with tears rolling down. He must’ve seen it too, his face falling at the sight of you.

“No! You think you can walk away from me? You think you can do all this–” you gestured to the beach around you, finding it harder to breathe with each word you spoke. “–buy me a house, tell me you envisioned a future with me, made love to me, and even prepared this dinner–”

“I didn’t do it for you. It was Kiyoomi who came up with this idea because he wanted to make you happy.”

Shaking your head, you shoved at his chest. “He wouldn’t do that. Kiyoomi wouldn’t be so cruel!”

“Oh, but I am for going along with it?” he snapped, closing the distance until his wrath enveloped you. “Get out of your head. Just because I did all those things for you, doesn’t mean they meant something. Are you forgetting I spent two years of my life trying to win you over, and I never once felt something for you other than tolerance?” When your face fell, triumph washed over his features. “That’s right. You remember now, don’t you? She’s the one I want. Everything I do is for her. Don’t forget your place.”

“My place? I am your wife. It’s my ring that you have on your finger. What place should I be forgetting? All of this is for me, you did this for me–”

“Oh, wake the fuck up, Y/N!” he bellowed, grabbing at his hair before he turned to glare at you. “I’m so tired of you going around acting like everything I do meant something. Has it never crossed your mind I could have just been bored? It didn’t, did it? Because you’re honestly foolish enough to let your guard down and believe that I wanted you!”

“Then why do all this if you didn’t?” you retorted, “You could become King as long as you married me and I gave you a son. You didn’t have to buy me a house, o-or act like you cared behind the cameras–”

“Well, are you? Are you with child?”

“No, but why does–”

“Then you have no hold over me. Marriage means nothing. This ring? This stupid fucking thing?” You glanced at the gold band at his finger, the one you watched roll over the floor on that day you gave it back to him. Rintaro hadn’t taken it off since, but now he looked at with resentment – like it suffocated him, choked him. “It means nothing. You cannot make me King if you don’t give me a child. And as long as you’re walking around without a baby in your belly, then you mean nothing to me. You have no purpose in my life.”

“So that’s what this is, then? Because she’s pregnant and I’m not?”

Rintaro’s face morphed into despair for a fleeting moment, so quick you questioned if you saw it at all. But almost as quickly, Rintaro’s posture straightened, his eyes hardening with steely resolve. Your breath caught in your throat – your suspicions confirmed.

So it was true. He knew.

And all of this – this house, that mocking conversation of building a family with you – it had been nothing but a cruel joke.

A strangled gasp escaped your lips. Stumbling back, your hands instinctively clutched at your chest as if desperately holding together the pieces of your shattered heart. The attempt was all for naught. The weight of betrayal crashed over you like a thundering wave. Each thought was a daggered stabbed to your soul as the pieces fit together – your husband, the one you loved, and his true love, now carrying his child.

Tears welled up, blurring your vision. You tried to hold them back, refusing to let him have the satisfaction that he’d succeeded in hurting you.

And it had been so easy, wasn’t it? He knew you so well, knew you like the back of his hand, that it came without too much effort that it was so easy to have you wrapped around his finger. One kiss, one tender touch, one proclamation of his so-called affections, and you would’ve broken your back bending to his will. He knew. He knew how easy it would be to win you over, and time and time again, you fell for it like the fool you were.

Everything burned. The pain was too raw, too overwhelming.

“You are cruel, Suna Rintaro. I regret the day I danced with you,” you gritted your teeth, digging your nails into your palm. Hard. “Perhaps you are right. We should get divorced.”

Rintaro sighed. “It’s for the best, even if it’s not what you think.”

“Because you can finally be with her, right? Your dream life is already coming true. You’re going to be a father, you’re going to spend a future with the one you love, and I’m hopelessly in love with you enough that I’ll just let it happen,” you smiled for him, clapping your hands together slowly and mockingly. “Congratulations. It’s everything you wanted. Things are finally going accordingly to plan. Should we open a wine to celebrate?”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “Stop acting like a child. You knew what you were getting into when you caught us together and still proceeded with the wedding.”

“You still blame me for that after everything I did for you?”

The silence hung in the air. Somehow, his lack of response already spoke a thousand words.

Unable to help yourself, you glanced at the beach house behind Rintaro. It stood proudly against the backdrop of the setting sun, its white walls glowing warmly in the fading light.

The memories came flooding all at once – the laughter you shared, the stolen kisses when he thought no one was looking, the whispered promises of a life you’d never life. You could almost see them dancing in front of you, like ghosts of the past, lingering in the shadows of the porch and taunting you with the fact it had been too good to be true. So many dreams built, so many dreams shattered.

Your heart ached in ways it shattered you bone-deep. It echoed from your chest and reverberated down to your feet as you recalled the nights you spent wrapped in his arms. His hands on your cheeks, a small smile on his face – when he still looked at you like he loved you and meant it.

But now? Now, that love felt like a cruel illusion – a beautiful dream turned into a living nightmare. The betrayal cut deep, deep enough it left behind the harsh hand prints on your soul. The wounds stinging hard that it might never heal. You forced yourself to tear your gaze away from it – from the swing on the porch swaying gently on the evening breeze, the window that once framed your silhouettes when you welcomed the sunrise together. Each detail was a stab to your already broken heart.

A stray tear fell on your cheek. Brushing it away, hands trembling, you took a deep breath – forcing the salty air to fill your lungs. “Was… was any of it real?”

Turning away from the house was the hardest part. Each step felt heavy, as if the weight of your memories were trying to pull you back. You cast one last, longing glance over your shoulder, your heart silently breaking anew.

Deep down, you already knew his answer. Still, it did not soften the blow when the words left his lips. It didn’t hurt any less when regret crossed his features, like somehow; a part of him wished it had been. “No. None of it was.”

“Okay,” you resigned, your body turned away from him, so he wouldn’t have to see be so pathetic anymore. When you finally spoke again, your voice came out as a breathy whisper. “You should go.”

You heard a slight shuffling behind you, followed by his mumbled words. “I never wanted to stay, anyway.”

When Rintaro walked away from you, each step he took was daunting, final. You didn’t know what hurt you more – the fact he never looked back, or the fact he never hesitated. But there was one thing that was made crystal clear to you now: it was never going to be you. How deeply unfair it was, that a man could say things he did not mean, do things he did not want to. How he could marry you and buy a house, and then turn you away at the next moment.

Love truly was a dangerous thing. It made you break down your walls, hopelessly and blindly handing your heart in the hands of someone, all while silently hoping they wouldn’t break it. And when it did, who would pick up the fallen pieces? Who would gather the shattered shards of your soul as it spilled like blood through his fingertips?

You didn’t have an answer for any of these.

Knees buckling, you fell into the sand, your palms sinking on it with its weight. You cried your heart out – the skies hearing your anguish as it echoed in the dead of the night. You screamed, begged, and called out for a God who never listened. The betrayal left a bitter taste on your tongue, a relentless ache that gnawed at your insides until it felt like nothing was left. As if you’d been hollowed out, bled out to dry, and discarded to the side.

You laid there for who knew how long. The flames of the candle had gone out, the food forgotten and cold. Sand had made its way into your joints and your hair. Your cheek felt crusty and hard from the dried tears. You cried and cried until there were no more tears left – watching from the horizon as the skies deepened into a darker shade.

Just then, a jacket fell on your bare shoulders. Stiffening, you raised your head from where you rested it on your drawn knees – blearily blinking at the figure before you. The man stood tall even with his legs bent, the faintest hint of spice mixing with the breeze.

Behind you, the Second Prince stood, his face devoid of any emotion. Yet, his eyes said it all. You are briefly shocked by how much you saw of yourself within him at that moment. The longing, the sadness – Kiyoomi wore his grief proudly. At the sight of you, his face softened. He offered his hands, one you took with no hesitance, and allowed him to pull you up to your feet. You two stood like that for a few minutes – unspeaking, and just staring at each other.

Kiyoomi was the first to look away.

“You’re cold. You shouldn’t stay out here,” tightening his jacket around you, the Prince suddenly pulled you in for an embrace. It happened too fast, faster than you could react. Before you knew it, your face was pressed against his chest, his heartbeat – strong and mighty – the only sound audible aside from the howling breeze. And you sunk into his hold as your tears stained his shirt, realizing a little too late how much you needed this – to be held so tightly like he feared letting you, like he could squeeze you hard enough and it would hopefully – eventually – piece back together the heart his brother had broken.

“Shhh. I got you, Princess. I’ll always be here for you.”

You’ve gone past the point of believing such flowery words. But when it came from Kiyoomi, you never doubted he’d keep the promises he’d made.

The once-vibrant beach house, filled with laughter and endless conversations, now stood in silence. Its walls held the unspoken truth that forever was not going to last. The gentle breeze that had always carried a promise of endless days spent in joy now whispered farewells through the rustling palms.

Rintaro had begun his farewells. Now, it was your turn to leave everything behind.

The Princes and their companions moved with quiet efficiency. Ever since that dreadful night, things hadn’t been the same anymore. No one spoke about what happened, but it didn’t take a fool to understand that romantic dinners weren’t supposed to end with you and Rintaro returning to the house hours apart – both miserable and mum. One quick look at you two, and the Princes began packing up.

Everyone knew their time had run up.

Casting a final, longing glance at the house, you breathed in the salty breeze one last time. The memories clung to you, each step you took feeling like a betrayal to the woman you could’ve been – the wife he could’ve had, and the mother you would’ve been. With a heavy heart, you watched as everyone loaded their luggage back to their respective vehicles, each one of them driving off. Their movements – along with yours – had been mechanical, as if the finality of their departure had numbed everyone to their core.

You looked out the window. The sun had began to greet the world with its morning kiss. The sea, once shimmering and glistening with spark-like waves, now seemed to mourn with you. The beach, scattered with the footprints of a happier time you’d said goodbye to, would soon be swept clean by the tides.

Any traces of the memories you made would be wiped clean by the world itself. If only it could give you a new beginning, too.

The journey back to the palace was somber. The rolling hills and distant forests passed by in a blur of muted colors – the world passed you by, in both the literal and metaphorical sense. If anything, the ride back felt like walking into your own death. A death march of duty and purpose. Speaking of duty… your hands cradled your belly. You weren’t pregnant, nor were you experiencing any symptoms. Rintaro knew this, too, otherwise he wouldn’t have thrown it in your face that you were merely nothing but a breeding mare for him – and a failed one, at that.

The palace loomed ahead, its grand spires and imposing walls reminding you of your reality.

Back at the beach house, your emotions were valid. There, you were a brokenhearted person who longed for true love. Here, though? None of that mattered. The Palace was not a place for emotions. It was a pillar, the foundation of what the Crown held – power, victory, wealth, control. Here, you were a Princess, and a Princess should always hold her head high.

You couldn’t do it. Bile rose up your throat each time you pictured yourself walking down its grand hallways, the gold shimmering and blinding you. Just the mere thought of the Queen studying you with her observant gaze made you squeamish.

You turned to Rintaro. “Can we please head to my parents instead?”

He looked at you like you’d grown two heads. The Palace was already in view. Still, his gaze darted at you, and back at the Palace, as if seriously considering it. Then, he pinched the bridge of his nose and slumped against his seat. “If you are doing this as an act of revenge–”

“I’m not. My parents truly did want to see us.”

Rintaro contemplated. Absentmindedly, he spun the ring on his finger, gazing down at it with an unreadable expression. His voice was light, and whisper-like as he said, “You cannot tell them about the affair.”

You pursed your lips. You never planned on doing so in the first place. Crossing your arms against your chest, you huffed. “Don’t worry, Your Highness. I never planned on ruining your perfect image.”

Rintaro didn’t bother with responding. Instead, he asked the driver to head back to the Yuzuru Estate, and quickly informed Her Majesty on the detour. It didn’t take long enough before you were surrounded by the familiar grove of trees that led to your place. The sound of wheels on cobblestone mingled with the soft murmur of the midday breeze. Outside, the manicured gardens and stately mansions blurred into a comforting embrace, their elegant silhouettes nostalgic. You couldn’t help but feel the need to reach out, to run your fingertips over the freshly mowed grass, or admire the shapely bushes designed to perfection.

You missed your home very much – one of the few places you felt solace in before your life turned upside down.

Pulling up into the driveway, your butler immediately opened the doors for you. There was a round of warm welcomes and joyful smiles. You’d missed them, too – all the loyal staff who took turns watching over you, even when they remained hesitant to properly acquaint themselves. Nevertheless, it was home. You greedily breathed the fresh air in, letting it fill up your lungs as you breathed out the darkness pooling at your chest.

The double doors opened, and the two of you were ushered in. A few minutes later, your mother came rushing past – a shawl drawled at the curves of her arms. A smile instantaneously, rising up from your seat to meet her halfway.

“My daughter, oh, how I missed you!” she laughed, the sound of it light and coloring up the room. Pulling back from the embrace, she cupped your face with her gloved hands – all her previous smiles slowly wavering. “My goodness, have you been eating well? Sleeping well? You look… different.”

You winced. It would be hard to hide things from her, but you had to try.

Leaning into her palm, you gave her the biggest smile you could muster – teeth flashed and all. “I’m okay, Mother. The Palace can just get a little exhausting sometimes.”

“Does your husband not help you with your duties?”

It was your father who spoke this time. He must’ve come straight from trimming the bushes; a sunhat covered his head, and he wore gardening gloves that were stained with grass and a miniscule of dirt. You didn’t miss the way his gaze leered at your husband. Rintaro was stiff behind you, having stood up as well as soon as your mother entered. “He does most of them, so I believe he is more tired than I am,” you supplied, pointedly ignoring Rintaro’s relieved sigh. Clapping your hands together, you walked towards your father with open arms. “But let’s not discuss any of that – how is everyone doing? I feel like it’s been forever since I last stepped in here.”

“Ah, no,” your father complained as he held you at an arm’s length away, “My clothes are soiled, and you are pristine. Do not bother yourself with getting dirtied.”

You pouted; your mother giggling behind you.

Being back at home was an instant medication. You hadn’t been here in months, yet the effect was evident – your shoulders felt lighter, your smile more natural. You’d stopped trying to think of Iris, too, yet you remained warily aware of your husband. And it was clear Rintaro was unsure of himself. He lingered longer on the doorways, his interactions with your parents more formal than it had been compared to the first time he called upon you. You couldn’t blame him for his discomfort – the question of his affair lingered on the air.

It was only a matter of time before someone addressed it.

A few hours later, with your stomachs filled with warm, homemade meals, you all moved out towards the back gardens. The garden stretched out in a lush expanse beneath the golden glow of the setting sun, each corner rich with the memories of your precious childhood.

Winding stone paths meandered through vibrant displays of blooming flowers – roses in shades of crimson and blush, peonies in soft pastels, and clusters of fragrant lavender. Elegant statues and an ornate fountain stood in the middle of it, their waters cascading beautifully. Majestic oak trees, their branches spreading wide in a serene embrace, provided cool, dappled shade – your signature reading spot from your teenage years.

You’d made many memories here; time spent with your father chasing you and your mother around as your gurgled giggles echoed through the air. It was also where your father taught you to use weapons (much to your mother’s distaste), and eventually, even a date spot when Rintaro wanted a reprieve from the public eye.

Rintaro and your father went ahead. Your father claimed he hadn’t properly worked out in a while, and that perhaps your husband could help him warm up. Beside you, you and your mother watched as the two men rolled their sleeves up to practice sparring. It’s a silly thing, but one you knew Rintaro enjoyed. He often spent time with your father like this when he was still courting you. They toyed with weapons, hunted birds, and sparred with one another. It was your father’s way of gauging Rintaro’s strength at first. Now, they simply did it as a way of bonding.

You smiled despite yourself.

You could still remember those times vividly, where warmth crept up your neck upon the knowledge your parents liked this boy you adored. You appreciated all his efforts, never once backing down from an absurd request from your mother, or another challenge from your father. Rintaro had proven to them, without fail, that he was dedicated in winning your heart.

He’d succeeded. It would be impossible if he didn’t.

He came every day, always at seven in the morning, with a bouquet of flowers that led you into reserving a room just to turn it into an indoor garden. He’d brought flowers for your mother, too, and you knew the moment she shed a tear at his sweetness, that he’d also won their hearts. The sweet ‘yes’ he’d been working hard finally came a year during the courtship. It was on that memorable night he’d driven you out for dinner – no drivers, no servants, no anything. Just you and I, he’d said with a smile, placing a kiss upon your knuckles.

It was the first night you’d kissed him, and the first night you stayed up awake as you lost the battle of trying to calm your racing heart.

If you’d known that early that his heart had already been occupied… No.

Even if you knew, even after you knew, it was too late. You were doomed from the moment he’d picked you out from the crowd. You’d resigned yourself to your fate when the throng of people parted for him as he made his way to you, wearing the most dazzling, lazy smile befitting for a Crown Prince.

You didn’t stand a chance.

You might’ve fallen in love the moment you stepped on his toes, and all he did was laugh.

“My dear,” your mother’s silken voice pulled you out of your trance. Smiling at her, you turned her way, silently sipping on the tea the servants had prepared. Before you, your mother twitched, playing with her fingers splayed on her lap. “I don’t mean to suddenly spring this up on you, but surely you’ll understand a mother’s curiosity and concern. So, tell me. Is it real? Is it true the Crown Prince is cheating on you?”

Your body froze. You’d seen this coming – known she would’ve asked one way or another.

“No, Mother,” you shook your head, dropping your gaze onto your lap in the hopes she wouldn’t see right through you. “His Highness would never. That article was already proven to be a hoax.”

“I see…”

You shared an uneasy silence. Seated across from each other, you stirred your tea absentmindedly, gaze drifting over the manicured hedges that framed the secluded nook. Your mother, poised and composed, sipper her tea with deliberate slowness. You could tell without looking at her that her inquisitive gaze searched for answers on your face. For signs of the truth you struggled to conceal with each passing minute.

The gentle clinking of porcelain and the soft rustling of leaves did little to alleviate the tension, the silence between you two growing heavier with each unspoken word.

Finally, your mother set her cup down and sighed. “I still remember the day the Crown Prince came to call on you,” she began, her words delicate and careful. Her gaze flitted to the two men before you, still elbow-deep in their sparring. “Your father and I didn’t want to believe it at first. You were always beautiful, of course, but you were such a shy, little thing. We worried you might grow old without striking a conversation with any man, but a Prince? A Crown Prince, no less? We were over the moon,” she shook her head at the memory, a small smile playing on her lips. “But then your father and I both agreed you didn’t deserve any lesser man. There couldn’t have been anyone else for you. The Crown Prince was perfect.”

He was, you wanted to agree, he used to be.

“I remember that day, too,” you mused, the image of the Prince with his slicked-back hair and three piece suit flashing in your mind.

You’d expected he would look out of your place in the Estate, whatnot with the royal crest on his chest, yet he never looked more fitting – surrounded by your family portraits and delicately gazing at your childhood photos.

“He was especially handsome – I’d say even more so than when he showed up for the Palace’s royal events.”

“Well, I wouldn’t be surprised. It was clear he wanted to impress us, and you, especially,” teased your mother with a slight poke of her elbow, her face softening. “I remember it all, my dear. How he would always share with us his plans for the dates he’d take you on, how he always took you home at the exact time he promised he would. He was a perfect son, the perfect addition to our small family. And I could never, ever forget how you changed when you met him.”

“I changed?” your brows furrowed, before you shrugged in agreement. “I suppose I have. Being with someone like him… I had to be conscious and aware of everything I did. Do you remember that, Mother? When I begged you to come shopping for clothes for me when you knew I never was interested in any of it?”

Your mother giggled behind her hands.

“I was so happy that day when you asked me to come with you! I thought my sweet girl was finally growing into a mature woman. But that wasn’t the change I was talking about,” she continued, sliding her chair closer to yours. Her palm landed on top of your knee, and she slowly caressed there – just like how she did when you first scraped your knees. And how healing it was, a mother’s tender touch on top of your wounds. It made you want to rip your heart out and shove it between her fingers, to silently beg her to make it all okay.

“…When you met him, you became radiant. In love. You smiled more often, and you opened up a whole new world that the Prince showed you. There wasn’t a day you didn’t speak fondly of him. And you had that look on your face, sweetheart–” she ran a finger down the side of your face, her eyes glistening with tears. You couldn’t understand why she looked so broken. “–it was in your eyes. Everyone could tell how much you loved the Prince.”

You swallowed, the smiles you wore becoming more and more faded. “Mother, I still love him.”

“I know, sweetheart, I can tell,” she cooed. Prying the cup from your hands, she immediately held your hands in hers, her warmth soothing as it seeped through her gloves. “But I also know you’re not happy anymore.”

Your resolve began to crumble.

“Mother…”

Your eyes began to glisten with unshed tears that you struggled to keep at bay. Despite your best effort, the façade of composure slipped. A single tear escaped, trailing a path down your cheek – and just like that – a dam had opened. The door holding your secrets unlocked. It was hard – painfully so – to pretend everything was okay when it was not. You felt like a little child again. A little girl craving her mother’s soothing embrace, and you couldn’t help it – you launched yourself into her arms, burying your face in the crook of her shoulder as your body shook with each sob.

“Oh, sweetheart,” your mother patted your back. Judging by the way her body quivered under you, she’d been crying, too. “It’s okay, I promise. Please, tell me what’s wrong. I can’t handle seeing you like this.”

“Mother, it’s…” you bit at your lip, trying to muffle the whimpers that passed your lips. “I’m sorry, it’s true. I didn’t want to lie, or have to hide it from you, but Rintaro loves you both a lot and I was afraid you’d hate him–”

“Oh! Oh, my poor baby. Never apologize, okay? It wasn’t your fault.”

You clutched her tight, her dress balled into your fists. A part of you told you that you should feel pathetic, that your actions weren’t Princess-like. That Her Majesty would frown at the sight of you and tell you to act your age. But you couldn’t muster the strength, not when your mother’s embrace was the only thing keeping you together – the only thing that told you it was safe enough to fall apart. And so you cried, your tears soaking her dress and the fabric wrinkling under your grip.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Your mother’s sniffles was the last thing you heard before the sound of a fist connecting with skin resounded in the area. Pulling back, you gasped at what you saw.

Rintaro was lying on the ground, your father on top of him. Your father grasped Rintaro by the collar, delivering blow by blow to his face until blood spattered to the grass. Somehow, you managed to scream. The sound was ear-splitting as your heels hit the ground, clutching the ends of your dress as you ran for him. Rintaro wasn’t putting up a fight – his arms limp by his side, his head swaying with each merciless punch on his face.

“Stop!”

“You cheating bastard,” your father glowered, rearing his arm back for one final blow. “How could you do that to my daughter?”

“Father! Please, stop!”

The commotion caused servants to pour from every corner. The guards arrived, pulling your father back by the elbow as he struggled to free from their restraints. Meanwhile, your mother stood beside him – crying and dabbing her handkerchief at his blood knuckles. And you? You fell on the ground, uncaring that the grass had stained your dress, and loomed over your husband. “Rin,” you called out. A low groan was all you received, but it was enough. You breathed out a sigh of relief, immediately calling for the servants to bring some ice and towels.

“Get out of here! You aren’t welcome here anymore!” your father kept kicking and screaming, the sounds of your mother’s pleas falling on deaf ears. “I swear by the Gods your title won’t keep you safe, boy, you will regret it–”

“Get up,” hooking your arm around Rintaro’s elbow, you grunted at his weight. “Rin. Come on. Let’s go.”

Still dazed from being beaten, Rintaro’s legs wobbled underneath him. He groaned, finally wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you limped back to the house. Your father was still a screaming mess, but you knew your mother would calm him down eventually. For now, you needed to tend to his cuts.

You brought Rintaro up to your room. A servant had left an ice pack and some towels there already. Making Rintaro get rid of his bloodied shirt, he changed into one of your father’s – his wince displeased yet left with no choice. Once he’d changed into something clean, he sat at the edge of your bed, shoulders slumped and his handsome face bloodied and bruised.

The air was thick with uneasiness in the dimly lit confines of your room.

The soft glow of your candlelight flickered across the ornate furnishings and Rintaro’s wounds. You worked quietly before him, finding there was no need to speak. His face, usually lacking in interest and graced with slow, lackadaisical smiles, was marred by a collection of bruises and cuts.

Your hand trembled slightly as you carefully dabbed a cloth soaked in cool water against a swollen cheek. The Crown Prince, despite his physical pain, looked even more vulnerable under the soft lights – his usual demeanor replaced by quiet resignation.

With delicate movements, you applied salves, ensuring your touch remained tender and soothing. It wouldn’t erase the hurt from his body, but maybe your care would make it ache less. Each gentle stroke of your fingers served as a silent apology for the pain he endured. And the room, filled with the faint scent of healing balms and the soft rustle of fabric, suddenly felt all too intimate.

The silence between you was heavy, punctuated only by the occasional rustle of the bandages and the soft sighs coming from him. As you finished tending to his wounds, your eyes met, and for a moment, it felt like he was that young man from two years ago – fresh-faced, and red-cheeked upon entering a maiden’s room for the first time. He’d been so nervous back then, his hands clammy and drenched with sweat. In reality, that man was just a fragment of who he truly was now – your poor, bruised husband who winced at every tender, caring touch. As if your love wounded him, and cut him in ways he couldn’t heal from.

As if he just waited for that finishing blow to come from you instead, to be his final damnation.

But it never came.

In that fragile moment, Rintaro closed his eyes, leaning into the caress of your palm as it hovered beside his face. This gesture you remembered – of him accidentally cutting his palm open with a letter opener years ago, and when you’d wrapped bandages around his wound. He did the same thing and leaned into your touch, only to kiss the insides of your wrist. He’d looked up at you from under his lashes, his lips full and ready to be kissed. And kiss him you did, because then he’d been yours, and you’d been his.

You didn’t pull away then. You couldn’t pull away now.

Using your thumb to stroke his swollen cheek, you sighed, the sound tired and heavy. “Did you tell my father? Is that why he beat you up?”

“No. We barely spoke during the spar,” he informed, tongue darting out to lick the dried blood off his lips. “But he kept looking over at you and your mother. I reckon he was just waiting for you to reveal the truth eventually,” just then, Rintaro chuckled, wincing when the motion made his cuts split further apart. His smile remained, however, and you drunk his features in – the way he tipped his head to the side, his eyes hooded, with just the barest hint of a playful smile. “You were never a good liar, you know that?”

“Is that so?”

“Hmm,” he hummed, “On our second date, you told me you didn’t want to watch the movies because you were worried people might crowd us. But it was written all over your face how much you wanted to.”

That, you remembered, as well. You found it impossible how a Prince – a Crown Prince – could simply saunter to the theaters like he was any regular man. He was right; you did want to. You’d never been to the theaters since it was always crowded, and you never did well in the dark. But you soon learned the dark wasn’t so scary when he had his arms wrapped around you. If anything, it felt elating – having the Prince play with your fingers, his gaze never really focusing on the movie.

Rintaro’s jaw clenched, more so in thought. “You always kept things to yourself, always did things for me even when it made you uncomfortable. Was it because I’m the Crown Prince that you felt you couldn’t be honest with me?”

“Not entirely. I guess I was just afraid that if I didn’t do what you liked, then you would lose interest in me.”

“That would never happen,” he interjected, “The moment I laid my eyes on you, I knew you were the one I wanted to marry.”

The realization dawned on him a little too late. His words carried weight with its double meaning, and he winced. The moment was broken. The thread snapped right in front of your eyes. Pulling away from him, you quickly gathered the bloodied towels and set it aside. You made yourself busy, fully aware of his eyes on you, but you wouldn’t dare look back. You had a feeling that if you did, your mind would run rampant again on the last time he’d been here in your room, when your sheets still smelled like him, and he’d fucked you hard enough on your bed that your bodies left an imprint.

You wouldn’t look at him. You couldn’t.

“I’m sorry about what my father did.”

“It’s fine. I deserved every punch,” he shrugged it off, then smirked. “Although I’m probably less appealing in your eyes now. Bruised and all. I don’t look very Prince Charming-like.”

You snorted. “Since you wish for my honesty, then I’ll tell you now the whole Prince Charming act never suited you.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I liked you better when you finally became more comfortable around me. You weren’t as poetic as when you first started courting me, but you were more… yourself. You were funnier, and a lot more charming when you weren’t trying so hard,” you broke that rule all too easily, and you did look at him. You looked at him, even if you could never see through him. “To me, it felt like I wasn’t dating the Crown Prince at all. I liked the unfiltered version of Suna Rintaro better. The one who enjoyed silences, instead of filling it with flowery words to get my heart fluttering. The one who preferred phone calls over texts because you wanted to hear my voice before going to sleep. The one who I considered my closest friend, the one I knew I wanted to marry, too.”

He was beautiful like this – his shirt hanging loosely at his broad shoulders, his arms slightly leaning back as it dipped with his weight on the mattress. His hair was tousled, the dark locks beautifully framing his face. And his eyes – hazel and more brown than green as the orange ember glows kissed him – were something you could lose yourself in for hours. For forever, even.

Suddenly, you wanted the world to end this way. You wanted time to stop if it meant picturing him like this, frozen and unguarded, beautiful and smelling like your perfume. You would’ve died a happy man if it meant this would be your last moment. With him on your bed, his clothes on your floor, and your ring on his finger.

You yearned for him so badly your body ached.

“Princess,” he mumbled after a pregnant pause, his voice coming out small as he said, “Why don’t you hate me?”

“Who says I don’t?”

The smile you pulled from him is lighthearted; unresevered. “Let me rephrase my question. Why do you still love me?”

Because isn’t that what love is? To know someone’s flaws, and to accept them as who they are? To see all your bad mornings and watch you stumble into the bathroom, clumsy and hazy. To see you at your worst, to choose arguments with you than silence with you. I thought that’s what love meant – to see the ugliness in another and to defy the impulse to turn the other way in search of another, the ‘someone better.’

You don’t tell him that. Instead, you offer another truth. “I wish I knew how to answer that myself.”

“I’m afraid,” Rintaro admitted, voice vulnerable and small. “I fear that one day, your hatred of me will consume you, and you will forget why you ever loved me.”

The candles cast soft shadows off his face, flickering like the fleeting time of the time you had with him. Each flame pulsed with the restless ache in your heart as you recalled the moments of closeness and intimacy that was half-heartedly reciprocated.

Your gaze drifted toward the space where he’d once lain beside you, the indentation in the sheets a painful reminder of the absence that now filled the void. You wanted to tell him you hadn’t changed the sheets since he last slept here. The scent of his cologne still lingered in the air, he still had his own pair of socks in your drawer, he’d left a wristwatch or two behind. He was here everywhere in your room, even if his heart wasn’t.

And it was so hard – so fucking hard – to accept that he didn’t love you.

Want me, you pleaded silently, at least want me. Just a little bit.

With slow, deliberate steps, your hand rested lightly on the bed’s edge, your fingers brushing against the cool, smooth fabric, as if permanently pushing the warmth of his presence back to the bed. Your heart ached with a bittersweet yearning for a heart that was never fully yours, a yearning that clung to you until it wrapped its fingers around your throat.

He was here now, wasn’t he? He wasn’t leaving. He said he would divorce you, he said it was always going to be her, but he was here – in front of you, in your room. If you dared to reach out a hand and crawl close enough, you could fall into his lap and cradle his head to your chest. And it was exactly that passionate longing that would ruin you – because you couldn’t resist. You couldn’t resist from trailing your fingers up his arm, all the way to his face. His eyes were unreadable; his pupils dilated and his lips pulled apart.

God, you wanted to kiss him.

So you pulled him close. Grabbed him by the collar, and slid yourself into his lap until Rintaro was forced to scoot backwards to balance you both, his large hands coming to rest on your hips. You breathed hard, shaking your head at yourself before your forehead knocked with his.

“Rin… Your Highness,” you corrected, rasping out the words. “I’m sorry. I know it’s wrong, and I know I could never have your heart but could you just – could you please hold me? Just for a minute, please. Pretend that you’re in love with me, I just–” your breath hitched when he squeezed your hips, to stop you or encourage you, you couldn’t tell. “–I just want to feel it again. That happiness I had with you.”

Rintaro hitched you up higher on his lap. Your chest crashed with his, and his lips followed. He tasted of blood and sugary biscuits. His taste, and his scent, flooded your senses until there was nothing to perceive but him.

And the kiss? It isn’t gentle. It isn’t soft. It’s desperate – lips bruising lips, teeth knocking with teeth, and tongues passionately grasping at one another. Your hands fly everywhere after that. Tugging at his hair, grabbing him harder by the collar to deepen the kiss. He swallows every sound you make, breathes them in like he needs them to live. So you give all you can and moan out his name – not Your Highness – and revel in the way he keens. He melts like snowflakes in the heat of your palm, like your touch burns him. You’re seconds away from dragging him back up on the bed when Rintaro suddenly shoves you off him. He flings himself upright and crosses the other side of the room in quick strides, the quick rise and fall of his back facing you the only thing visible from the dimly-lit room.

He didn’t need to say it out loud.

He’d regretted that kiss. Your heart broke once more as you sat at the edge of your bed. His rejection stung, even more so when he wiped his lips with the back of his hand. Rintaro was shivering now as his head knocked against the window. Each breath he took seemed labored, as if even the act of drawing air was a struggle against the overwhelming sorrow that enveloped him. The air around him felt dense with the gravity of his internal torment, and your heart sank as you finally voiced out what he could never say out loud –

“…You really don’t love me.”

The silence falling over the room wrapped around the space like a heavy, suffocating shroud. the absence of sound was deafening. It pressed in on the walls and made each breath feel louder. Every creak of the floorboards or distant murmur from the outside was amplified, heavily echoed in the thick air. And when Rintaro finally spoke, it came with a tone of finality and unconcealed regret.

“I’m sorry.”

You swallowed, blinking back the tears as you fixed your appearance. “Pardon me for a moment,” you began to exit the room, your hands hovering on the handle before you you’re your decision. “Your Highness… is it okay if I stay here at my parents? It’s just for a few days. I don’t think I can handle returning to the Palace anytime soon.”

“Of course. Take all the time you need.” Rintaro did one final sweep of your room with his eyes. Something unreadable passed over his face. In the next moment, he cleared his throat, and opened the door himself. “I should leave. Goodnight, Princess. Please tell your parents that I left already, and I truly am sorry for the mess I caused.”

Rintaro was gone before you could say anything.

Just before his back disappeared from your line of sight, you saw something you thought you would never witness – Rintaro took two steps at a time on his way down, his frown pronounced as he wiped the tears off his face.

It unfolds like a badly written tragedy.

One moment, Rintaro is standing in the confines of your room, his heart racing with a desperate urgency that pulsed through every fiber of his being. He’d wanted to keep kissing you. Pulling away, and resisting his desire had to be one of the greatest pains he’d experienced, but he had to. He couldn’t keep doing this to you. His conscience wouldn’t let him.

That’s why he had to resort to doing the only thing he could think of in that moment – to run away and leave you behind.

Storming through the stately halls and out the grand doors of your estate, Rintaro pushed through. The weight of his regrets made each step harder to take, a burden that dragged him toward the waiting car parked outside the chill beginning to settle.

He jumped into the vehicle, ignoring his driver’s confused queries before slamming the door shut behind him. Inside, the car felt like a confining cell, its leather seats and polished surface now an inescapable prison of his own making. His hands, trembling with a mix of frustration and despair, gripped the steering wheel with a white-knuckled intensity.

In a sudden, raw burst of emotion, his fist struck the steering wheel with a deafening thud. The impact reverberated through the car and sent a shiver down his spine.

Still, he kept going – each strike of his fist minimal in comparison to his anguish. He reveled in it, the sharp pain in his knuckles a fleeting distraction from the deeper, more consuming agony that began to eat away at him.

His breaths came in ragged gasps, each inhalation a struggle. The air inside the car felt stifling, thick with the heavy scent of leather and the acrid tang of the remnants of blood at his face. His tears began to flow uncontrollably, streaming down his face and mingling with the sweat that dampened his brow. In the suffocating silence, his mind raced through a myriad of memories – from when he’d first kissed you, when he first held your hand, and the tender embraces he held you in.  Each memory served to remind him of what he had now – nothing but a fractured connection, a strained marriage, and your fragile heart which he couldn’t protect.

Each image passing through his mind were tinged with bitterness. He recalled the warmth of your presence, the way your smile could light up the room, and the feeling of your hand in his.

He wished he could take it all back – to start from the beginning, to re-introduce himself to who he truly was. But he couldn’t. He knew he couldn’t. It was too late.

He’d gotten Iris pregnant.

Rintaro hadn’t mean to. Sure, he was careless and never used protection, but he thought little of it. Iris’ cycles were irregular and they never worried if she missed her period. She was always on the pill – all because of him, since Kiyoomi wouldn’t have touched her anyway. In another lifetime, Rintaro might’ve felt happy. Instead, he was filled with crushing dread. He couldn’t be a father, he didn’t want to be like his father.

And why hadn’t she told him? All this time… he foolishly thought she’d began ignoring him because it was a mutual, unspoken feeling that they’d just gotten tired. He never handled the media’s criticism well, and Iris wasn’t any better. She cared about her image and reputation more than anything – so why hide this from him? If he had known sooner…

What? his mind taunted, What would you do if you knew sooner?

Rintaro’s head dropped to the steering wheel. The voice in his head was right. He wouldn’t have done anything. Had he known four months ago, he would’ve celebrated. Had he known two months ago, he would’ve been upset, but choose to take responsibility in the end. But now? Now his decision was clear. Without giving it a second thought, Rintaro pulled out of your driveway and headed straight for the palace, dialing Iris on his way.

She picked up on the third ring.

“So it’s true,” he spoke to the phone, driving past the other cars on the highway in full speed. He should drive more carefully, but his blood was pumping loud in his veins – your touch lit a fire in him, and he needed that fire stoked. “You’re pregnant.”

A pause came from the other line. “How did you know?”

Rintaro gripped the steering wheel tighter, glaring at the phone even if she couldn’t see. “You’re heartless, Iris. How could you let my wife find out about it first before I did? Why did she have to tell me?”

“She told you – what? I never planned on letting you know about it, Rintaro. I don’t even know how she found out!”

“What, you were going to use that baby against me? Is that what you planned?” he growled at her, “You’re not keeping that damned baby – you’re getting rid of it right now. I’m not letting you fuck up my marriage.”

“I wasn’t going to keep it anyway! You’re absolutely insane if you think I’m planning to give birth to your filthy child–”

“Shut up!”

Rintaro ended the call. He’d had enough of her and her greediness. How dare she keep something like that from him, aborting his child before he even knew of its existence?

He stepped harder on the gas.

The engine roared in defiant response to his intense, almost reckless driving, its powerful growl a stark contrast to the stifling silence that enveloped the car. The air inside the car was thick with the acrid scent of tension and frustration, each breath he took feeling heavier and more labored as he fought to keep his rage contained.

His thoughts raced with the echoes of the argument, each harsh word and biting remark replaying in his mind like a relentless loop. The sting of her anger gnawed at him, fueling the fire of his own resentment. The images of her face, twisted in frustration, seemed to haunt the darkened windows of the car. Iris seemed to do that often – haunting him both in his dreams and a nightmare.

Rintaro couldn’t fathom why it was too late when he realized she’d never been a good person to begin with.

She was never his friend.

She only approached him because Rintaro was malleable. He was a blank canvas of a man, a lost Prince. He was nothing but an experimental toy for her. She’d kissed him, stolen his heart, and fed him lies that she’d give him what he wanted if he did what she liked. And he did – every fucking time. He drunk himself wasted, because Iris didn’t like drinking alone. He smoked packs of cigarettes for her even when he hated the taste of nicotine, because Iris got antsy without smoking. He fucked her hard and deep, and spent countless nights in her bed, because her husband never wanted to touch her. And what did he get in return?

Fake smiles. Sarcastic, mocking comments. A dry reply from his enthusiastic texts. A quick, good fuck if they were bored enough.

Iris never wanted him. She only ever wanted one thing: security. And when she was married to a Prince, and had another wrapped around her finger? She could do no wrong in the eyes of the throne.

As he drove, the powerful beams of the headlights cast fleeting shadows across the road.

The palace loomed ahead, its silhouette a distant promise of refuge that seemed increasingly out of reach. The anger that coursed through him was a force unto itself, a seething urge that refused to be quelled.

As he approached the grand gates of the palace, his emotions were spilling all over the place. He only had one place in mind: Belleview Manor.

Rounding a corner in the dimly lit hallway of the palace, Rintaro came to an abrupt halt. The reaction of his body was instantaneous: his breath caught in his throat, his muscles locking into place. Before him stood the Queen, her regal presence magnified by the soft, flickering light of the sconces lining the walls. Her silhouette, framed by the rich, opulent draped and the gleaming marble floors, seemed almost otherworldly.

She stood there, unmoving, like she’d somehow known he would be coming any minute now.

Rintaro’s head pounded in his chest. Cold dread washed over him, an icy hand clutching at his insides. The Queen’s serene yet inscrutable expression was nothing but an act, that he knew. In reality, her expressions were alien and foreboding. Her eyes, deceptively warm and reassuring, stared back at him like dark abysses, their depth hinting at the hidden complexities and secrets Rintaro had never cared to consider before.

He felt as if the ground beneath him had shifted, his already unstable world rocked by the revelation of a hidden side to his mother that he never perceived.

He stood frozen, a tangible sense of fear and anger enveloping him as he confronted the unsettling truth: the queen, his mother, was a mystery he had never fully unraveled.

The secrets she harbored, once a vague notion in the back of his mind, now loomed large and menacing, casting a long shadow over his perception of her. The fear that gripped him was profound and disorienting, a jarring contrast to the reverence he had always felt. His whole life, he’d only wanted one thing – to please his mother, to make her proud, to be a Queen’s son worthy of becoming the next King. His whole life he’d only done what he was told.

But in that moment, he was consumed by the chilling realization that the mother he had known and loved was a stranger, and the weight of her concealed truths left him trembling with a profound, unsettling fear.

“You,” he breathed out, his fear now overtaken by his sight going red. He felt mocked, humiliated, used. “Why did you never tell me?”

The memory of that night on the beach was seared into his mind.

He could never forget it – Iris’ sneer, the way her lips curled in contempt, as though he were something beneath her. Her words had cut deep, bleeding into his every being until the truth pounded at his veins. She had looked at him with disdain, her eyes cold and unfeeling, as she spat out how she’d never wanted to be with him, how she’d used him to cure her loneliness. A rejection born from a sick, twisted confession.

And now that he’d fulfilled his purpose in the bleakness of her world, he was nothing more than a disposable distraction. She’d called him worthless, a joke, someone unworthy of her attention – a prince in name but never in her eyes. The wind had whipped around him, cloaked around him like a glacial storm, but it was her biting words that had left him feeling exposed and small.

She’d delivered a stab to his heart that no amount of time could erase.

I never wanted to be with someone like you in the first place.

Didn’t you know, Rin?

You were never the King’s son.

[eggyrocks]

GET BACK CHAPTER ONE

step one: acknowledge that you fucked up

masterlist

YOU HAVE ONE NEW MESSAGE

akaashikeiji (12:45:32): class is killing me lore_biblio (12:47:12): rather be there than work. guy in historical nonfiction has been here for 45 mins lore_biblio (12:47:18): i am on aux tho & i put how soon is now on a loop. so silver linings ig akaashikeiji (12:48:02): that guy'll probably leave before the song finishes once

He sees her, and his heart stops.

Shoyo is, at once, struck at how different she is. She's sitting behind the counter, laptop propped open and fingers rapidly tapping against the keys (writing, he can only imagine, some brilliant, complex argument about a foreign novel he has never even heard of). And the differences are all he can see.

The slopes and lines of her face have, subtly, elongated, aging her, maturing her. The way her shoulders sit, dropped and back, posture neat, make her seem more sure, more commanding than the hunched over, finger-twiddling bundle of nerves that he once knew. The tight, screwed up expression of concentration is lit-up by the blue light of her laptop screen, bright and cool, contrasted with the dim, yellow lighting of the bookshop. And he's awestruck.

Two years, Shoyo has to remind himself, it's just been two years. It's not a lifetime. He knows her, he tells himself. Even if she's changed. It couldn't have been that much. He knows her.

He wonders what differences she'll notice of him. Will she drag her gaze along the new-found broadness of his shoulders? Will she note the changes of his voice, the few inches he has grown, or the way his skin has been deepened by the sun? Will she recognize him as the person she once loved, or will she regard him as a stranger?

Shoyo takes a deep breath, and steps forward, ready to find out.

She doesn't look up at him as he approaches, and his grip on the zinnias in his sweaty palm tightens. The closer he gets to her, the more his mind empties, the more his mouth dries.

The smell of old, dusty books makes Shoyo sniffle, he can't stop it. Her head shoots up at the sound, fingers freezing over the keys of her laptop, and wide, startled eyes settling over Hinata Shoyo, who stands a just behind the counter, bouquet of flowers, just for her, in his hands. He swallows a lump in his throat. "Hey."

Hey. He wants to slam his head against the wall.

It seems to take her a second to realize that it's him. He can tell the moment she does, though, because those wide, startled eyes narrow, and her lip furls in disgust. It's enough to make Shoyo take a step back. "Oh, you gotta be fucking kidding me."

Some sort of animalistic instinct inside of him screams that he is in danger. His body knows something is wrong, his gut tumbles and the amount of sweat his palms produce doubles. But every conscious thought he has tells him to keep going, don't stop, don't let her go. He raises the zinnias to her. "I, erm, I got you these."

She blinks, staring directly into Shoyo's eyes. "I don't want them."

Shoyo wets his lips and shifts his weight between his feet, flowers dropping back down to his side. It's a little forceful, his movements mechanic. It knocks a petal or two to the ground. "Okay, well, then, maybe, we can talk? Maybe after you're done with work?"

Her expression is so unfamiliar to him. Features that he knows, but that are still so different to him, twisted up in a hated that he never, not once has seen on her. A kind that he wouldn't ever have imagined would be fixed at him. "Why would I want to talk to you?"

He remembers how little she spoke the night before he left. He remembers how intensely she protested his departure, before resigning to acceptance a few weeks before his flight. Shoyo can see it clearly, in retrospect. Her expression back then had seeds of the one she wears now. It started then, and has since grown. He was just too stupid to notice it.

She hates him. She really, really hates him.

"I just," he starts. "I just thought that, I dunno, I mean-"

"Don't come back here," she cuts him off, and returns her gaze back to her laptop. "There's nothing I have to say to you, and nothing I want to hear from you."

His hands are shaking. There's a numb sort of disbelief that spreads over him. Shoyo nods, eyes falling to the ground, and he places the zinnias on the counter before he turns on his heel, and walks right back out the door.

extras!

yachi showed up and hugged yn in the back room for about ten minutes while she cried before she went back up to the counter and unlocked the door

and yachi stayed there for the whole rest of her shift; she made her put on a different song tho

the man in historical nonfiction was there for an hour and twenty-seven minutes (yn timed it) just browsing and looking through books (just like me fr)

hinata ran back to his apartment with all of his unpacked things and did an entire reevaluation of their entire relationship together and the past two years

lwky i hate this

taglist: @wyrcan @thechaosoflonging @bedeater @deluluforcarlos55 @localgaytrainwreck @cherrypieyourface @eclecticeggknightpsychic @httpakkeiji @does-directions @needtoloveoutloud @causenessus @kawaii-angelanne @thatonecroc @v1oletfury @lonesomedrive @guitarstringed-scars @ahdbodhr @nbcvs @garfieldissocool @shoyobub @iheartpinky @choerry-picking @mollyrolls @yogurtkags @yuminako @rockleeisbaeeee @michivrse @19calicos @bailey-reeds @staileykout @kitskasoboring @iluvaquaphor @lllaw @loveelylacey @atsumuenthusiast @alpha-mommy69 @acowboykisser @milesmoralesluvs @3lectraheart @s1ckntwist3d @dailyakira @lvtilzs @miliondollagirl @strxwberri-s @kokoblep (taglist is closed, if i was unable to tag you please check your settings and your username, if i cannot tag you for two chapters in a row you’ll be removed from the taglist)

[rafeyscurtainbangs]

The Sweetest Thing - Rafe Cameron

+18 Minor DNI

CollegeHockey!Rafe x gf!reader

⭐ republished ⭐

+18 Minor DNI

ask: sex with hockeyplayer!rafe after he won an important match

Thank you so much for your ask 🌺

🪄 hockey!rafe, bf!rafe, swearing, name-calling, Rafe & reader’s POV, hockey violence, pet names (daddy, doll, baby, babygirl etc, degradation, Rafe talks about the reader in an explicit fashion to her ex without her there, rough oral, throat fucking, cum play, creampie, semipublic sex, unprotected p in v, jealous!rafe, ownership kink, squirting, lots of dirty talk from him

📖 CollegeHockey!Rafe can’t wait to get his hands on you after winning the Frozen Four Championship game, especially after playing against your ex.

✨ He meets your eyes, his guide shifting as you pinch the bottom of his jersey you’re wearing. “Keep it on, princess. Just for a bit,” he smiles as he looks down at you at his feet, wanting to see his last name on your shoulders as you suck him off.✨

2.3 K lightly edited (<- mostly smut)

NCAA Men’s Frozen Four Championship Game…

30 seconds remaining in the 3rd Period 1-0:

Rafe’s POV:

The ref’s whistle screams through the arena. The puck drops again. I skirt and push as I look for an opening, waiting for my pass. I charge past the student section, catching her eye as I always do. My number one fan. My girl. Mine.

Easton Lawrence is a bitch. He has been since juniors; y/n’s ex-boyfriend no less. He and I usually both end up ejected from the game without fail. Not today. I promised her I’d play as nice as I could. ‘He’s not worth it. He’s a dick. He’s just trying to get under your skin, baby.’ That’s my girl’s pep talk. But Jesus fuckin’ Christ, three periods of this shit-talkin’ from him has me wanting to toss all that out the window. He loves to fuck with me. And he always has—every damn game.

Easton bumps his stick against the glass, giving her a smile that she doesn’t return. Good girl. We meet at the line, getting ready for puck drop. His silver chain hangs out of his jersey. Of course, I stalked her IG before we dated; I know that pendant was a gift from her. #6 shines in the bright rink lights, making my blood boil.

“Y/n looks good, Cameron. Sweetest fucking pussy I ever had.” He chirps, taking a jab as he has, each one getting more infuriating than the last as he inches closer and closer to my soft spot. Her. He just had to do it.

“Say her name again. Do it, bitch,” I warn.

“I miss her sayin’ mine, that’s for sure,” he sneers as he tightens his stick in his mitts.

“You startin’ shit ‘cause you’re losin’, asshole? This game is almost over. Give it up.” The whistle blows, a false start, leaving him plenty more time to run his mouth. My turn. “Good? Nah, buddy. My girl looks perfect. And I’m man enough to agree with you, perfect fuckin’ pussy. Too bad you weren’t man enough to make her cum. Huh?”

Easton laughs wickedly and shakes his head. “Gonna fucking kill you when I find you in the parkin’ lot, Cameron. I swear to Christ.”

“No, you ain’t. ‘Cause I’m gonna take that sweet pussy to the first locker room I find and rail what’s mine. Gonna make her forget that any man’s name’s ever passed her lips but Rafe Cameron.”

The whistle blasts, and the puck drops. I get an elbow to the gut immediately, Easton prodding and taunting me instantly. There are so many bodies in front of the net, but I catch my opening. The puck hits my stick, a little backhand flick. I watch as she trickles past the goal line.

The siren sounds, and the crowd cheers loudly as the music blares. I skate toward him, getting in his face before my teammates can reach me to celebrate, making the refs rush around us, anticipating a brawl. “Gettin’ her and the win, pussy. Have fun beatin’ your own dick, bitch,” I dig. Easton shoves me hard, and I shove him back, slapping his chest and ripping that cheap-ass Zale’s chain off his chest before hurling it over the glass.

"Break it up!” The refs scream, blowing their whistles again.

My co-captain bumps me with his stick, giving me a broad smile. That was the winning goal. A few boys drag me in for a celebratory hug before skating back to the bench. There are only a few seconds left, and the crowd’s goin’ crazy aleady. Y/n can barely contain her excitement. I give her a wink, and she smiles back, giving me a little finger wave that has me even more eager for the final buzzer.

Sure, they’ll be press after this. A quick interview with ESPNU, maybe a few words from the coaches; a quick speech from us captains. But when I’m done with all that shit, I’m fuckin’ my girl just like I said I would.

My coach smiles at me proudly, not wanting to jinx the next 30 seconds of play. The only thing that would be better is if the puck passed the white ice before the clock hit 0.0.

But I don’t wanna get greedy now, do I? I’ll save that for her.

Reader’s POV:

“Congratulations, captain…” Your lips meet his neck, a soft kiss, feeling his heartbeat under your lips. You palm his cock, rolling your fingers gently over the fabric. Rafe moans deeply, vibrations buzzing against your lips. You work a little lower, kissing and tracing his strong chest and abs, working to the locker room floor.

Your fingers run softly against the deep indentations of his v-lines, making his muscles flex. You smile up at him from your knees, catching your fingers under the band of his boxers, pulling them to his feet, watching as his aching cock springs free, Rafe letting out a sigh of relief.

He meets your eyes, his guide shifting as you pinch the bottom of his jersey you’re wearing. “Keep it on, princess. Just for a bit,” he smiles as he looks down at you at his feet, wanting to see his last name on your shoulders as you suck him off.

“I love your cock, baby,” you laud as you take him in your hands.

“Yeah?” He groans, watching you near his tip; a bead of precum gathers on his head, rolling slowly before it falls to the concrete. “Don’t go wastin’ it now,” he teases as you run your tongue along your bottom lip; mouth water, wanting the weight and taste of him on your tongue.

“If I was at the hotel, I’d lick it off the floor. I swear,” you smile as Rafe looks down at you in awe.

“Just a filthy little slut for me. Aren’t you, baby?”

“Mmm… Mhmm.” You hum, preening him up with your tongue. Rafe closes his eyes, tilting his head back to the ceiling. He cradles your head in his hands as you swirl slowly.

“This mouth, baby,” he mumbles.

Rafe’s eyes open, watching as you kiss him sloppily, teasing him with the thought of your lips wrapped around him fully, the warmth of your mouth swathing him. “Shit,” he pants, sexual tension painted all over his handsome face. You smile wickedly, lips parting slightly as he watches you take him into your mouth. “Fuckkk,” he moans, drawing out the word with a deep breath. You bob back and forth, choking on his big dick each time. He holds your head a little tighter in his hands as you increase your pace.

Rafe starts to trill on your tongue, mumbling praise as you add your hands. He tugs your hair, causing you to moan around his cock. Rafe takes control, gliding slower, taking a different grip entirely, holding your cheeks in his large hands. The fat tip of his cock kisses the back of your throat, spit seeping from the corners of your mouth.

“This mouth is mine. All fucking mine,” he grunts. “And you’re gonna swallow it all. Yeah?” Rafe asks raspily, stroking your full cheeks with his thumbs. “‘Course you are. Can’t answer with this pretty little mouth full of dick. Can you?”

Rafe thrusts deeply a few more times before giving you back the reins. You draw off him fully, a gasp for air releases from your open lips, drool connecting from the tip of his cock to your kiss-swollen lips. You spit on his dick, getting messy just like he likes, stroking him with your fist. "I’m all yours, Rafe.”

He shakes his head and smiles. “Mhmm… That’s right, princess.” You wrap your lips around his tip, creating a suction that makes him moan your name. Your hands wrap around, gripping his ass, as you start to stroke him with your mouth again. Lewd noises fill the locker room; Rafe, panting and like a dog; you, slurping and squelching with each bob of your head. Tears leak down your cheeks, eyes locked on him, watching as he starts to near his finish. Rafe’s cock swells on your tongue; his muscular thighs trembling as you squeeze. ”So good, baby… I’m gonna - Fuck.“ Warm, white ropes hit the back of your throat as you take his big load, swallowing it all.

You bind your fingers a little tighter, milking out his last bits of pleasure, skimming your tongue along his tip, catching what little remains, flattening your tongue to show him yourself. “My girl,” he smiles, hooking a finger under your chin, leading you to your feet. Rafe spits in your open mouth one moment, kissing you deeply the next, slipping his tongue inside. Your tongues swirl together, Rafe holding onto you tight.

"I need you, baby,” you plead against his lips, and he smiles on yours.

“Yeah? You need this dick, princess?”

“I need it,” you whisper, taking his bottom lips between your teeth.

“She needs it… I wanna fill up this sweet pussy,” he mumbles. “Nobody else gets you but me. No one else knows this cunt like I do. Do they?” He asks, all low and husky against your neck. You respond with a needy uh huh, making him chuckle as you melt into him more, feeling your arousal pool in your panties. “I’m gonna be drippin’ out of you all night.”

“I’m counting on it, Rafe,” you breathe. He strips you out of his jersey quick; your pants already tossed to the side, leaving you in your black lacy bra and panties. Rafe unclasps your bra as he kisses down your neck, holding your breasts in his ringed hands. He reels and flicks his tongue across your sensitive bud, pinching the other between his rough digits. You scratch your fingers into his damp hair, guiding him lower and lower.

“Babygirl,” he chuckles as he snaps your panties at the hip, seeing his #2 embroidered into the fabric. “I fuckin’ love you. You know that.”

“You like it?”

“You know I would. I love ‘em.” He kisses your skin, then the number, working lower and lower, hitching your leg over his shoulder to get better access to your sopping core. Rafe licks the fabric, tasting you, groaning against your clothed cunt at the taste. “M’gonna leave these on… Get ‘em all messy. When we get back to the hotel after the bar, you can take ‘em off. Deal?”

“Deal,” you smile as you brush back his bangs to see his pretty baby blues.

“‘N by you I mean me,” he smiles playfully. “I’m already thinkin’ about later, baby. Got me fuckin’ pussy whipped,” Rafe laughs as he lifts you into his strong arms.

“I’m addicted to you, Cameron. I guess we’re even,” you whisper against his lips as you hook your ankles around his waist, driving your body closer as he presses your back into the cool brick wall. ”Fuck me?“ You whine, desperation laced in your tone. ”Please.“

“I love when you beg for my cock. Think you could get nice and loud for me, princess?” You bite your lip and nod in reply. “Beautiful.”

Rafe pushes your panties to the side; you tilt your forehead against his, the two of you watching as his long cock nears your warmth. ”Shit,“ you whine as he circles your sensitive clit with his velvety head, making him smirk. Rafe moves a little lower, gliding through your folds, teasing your entrance with his pink, swollen tip. You both moan in unison as he fucks up into you.

You gasp and fuss, feeling him split you in two. Your boyfriend wasting no time stroking, hitting that special spot. He pins you to the wall, leaning in, rutting quickly. His thrusts are merciless, absolutely intense as you cling to his shoulders. You cry out in pleasure as his toned body claps against your clit, his ruddy head repeatedly striking your g-spot.

“Atta girl. Keep screamin’ like that.”

”Rafe… Oh my god. I’m gonna cum,“ you moan as stars dance in your eyes, white-hot pleasure overtaking you entirely as you cum all over his cock. Rafe works you even quicker, fucking you through your orgasms as your nails dig into his shoulder blades.

“Got this pussy creamin’ for me. Think I could make her cry,” he taunts through mumbled words, sucking and biting your skin, marking you up.

Rafe pulls you off the wall, leaving you gasping, his dick still buried deep as he carries you to the bench. He sits down, letting you straddle his lap as you kiss. Rafe adjusts slightly, leaning back into the wall, enjoying the view, catching a different angle, making you suck in some air. You lift your body, rising fully before spreading your thighs wide again. Rafe grips your ass in his hands, following you as you move. ”It’s too much,“ you whine, bottom lip wobbling, as he stretches you out.

“You’re lyin’,” he laughs breathily between jagged breaths. “My baby can take it.”

You throw your head back as you bounce, nailing the perfect spot, feeling every curve and ridge of Rafe’s dick as your thighs start to burn. Rafe’s thumb presses against your throbbing clit rubbing circles on top. ”Say my name when you cum, princess. Scream my fuckin’ name.“

”Sh-Shit,” you stutter, cock-drunk, thighs quivering uncontrollably, making you lose your rhythm. “M’gonna cum.”

“Cum on my cock, baby. Let me have it.”

Your orgasm rips through your body, pleasure hitting you harder than your first release, toes curling as you’re sent into ecstasy. Before you can come down, he picks you up, pushing you onto the cold bench, thrusting into you suddenly. The sounds of his skin clapping against yours echoes through the locker room. You let out a loud cry, making him smile wildly before your eyes pinch shut, gripping the metal edge, making your knuckles turn white.

“Look at me, princess. Eyes on me. M’almost there. You’re doin’ so good, f’me.” He lifts his hand, pressing two fingers between your lips before bringing them down to your clit, playing with your pussy.

”Yes! Just - Just like that. Fuck. Rafe,“ you squeal. ”Oh shit-“ Your orgasm spills over, soaking his cock, wetting your panties and his thighs. Rafe’s hips snap into you, filling you with his warmth. He topples down on top of you, burying himself in your neck, mumbling soft “I love you’s” as he rocks through your shared release. Rafe kisses your cheeks, then your lips, lingering close as you both come down from your bliss.

“Sweetest fuckin’ pussy I’ve ever had.”

my masterlist 🔮

Follow and turn on notifications for @curtainbangs-updates for fic drops 💕

[fluloa]

SOAKED | jake sully x reader [mini series pt. 4]

only warning for u alien fuckers: it’s a bit filthy. mentally prepare yourself ig. TWO HANDS ON THE PHONE PEOPLE

You're sharpening your knife as you sit in the designated spot for your next lesson. You're dreading it, if you're honest with yourself. You have so many emotions bottled up, just waiting to explode and Jake's probably going to be the victim of it. The weather is a bit on the cold side, giving you gentle shivers and making goosebumps rise on your arms. Your stomach is full with a weird feeling, anticipation almost.

Jake's husked voice startles you, "Looks alright."

You sigh quietly. Speak of the devil. You don't look at him when he walks over to you, sits down beside you with his big body as he bends a leg up, leaning his arm over his knee. "It's tricky because you really gotta flick it at the tip," he ghosts a finger along the edge of your knife. "So that it's real sharp."

You flick it hard as he says, but he shakes his head, moving behind you. "Real tight grip here," he closes his hand over yours on the handle, shaking it a bit for exaggeration. You can feel the warm air of his breath, dipping down your neck and it's taunting you. "And— give me your other hand."

You don't give it to him. There's a second of silence before he takes your hand for himself, enveloping it with his own hand before he's lining it up at the thick girth of the knife's base, and striking it up, a nice shing sound coming out of it. He does it a few more times before he's letting your hands go, watching you do it by yourself.

"That's good. Keep it tight." His words of praise shamefully give you a rise, a cool shrivel slivering down your chest. You swear he's doing it on purpose, you swear.

While you flick at your knife with the silver sharpening tool, you look to the side, not directly looking at him but it's enough to grab his attention to your face. "Remember that hexapede I killed?" He hums in a curious tone, and you take it as a response to speak further. "Well, I tried looking for it, but it wasn't there. Some other animal must've snatched it up."

"Nah, I carried it back to the village," he announces.

"Right. When you left me?" you ask, tugging a sharper strike to your knife than the other strikes. Jake notices it. His jaw tenses, blinking to you with his eyes boring holes into your form.

"When I left you." He swallows, "Listen, I wanna apologise—"

"Oh, you want to apologise, Jake?" you laugh sarcastically, venom dripping from your words.

His jaw tenses, "I didn't want to leave you."

You snap your head back, a glare stung into your eyes. "But you did."

"You're making it out like it's a bad thing that I did."

You laugh dryly, chucking your knife onto the ground as you stand up. He immediately stands up with you, glowering over you. "You know that it is."

"Don't tell me what I know and don't know, girl." Jake warns, nose twitching. "I helped you, and then left. That simple."

"You can't tell me that you weren't just fucking me to help me. That's not how it works and if you say otherwise, you're lying," you snarl.

He's quiet for a second, searching back and forth between your eyes with his chest rising with a long breath in, "I don't—"

You give him a harsh shove to the chest, hissing out a groan of anger. His eyes blow out wide, then they relax into a dangerous squint. Your eyes widen. He reaches for you and grabs firmly at your wrist, his fingers clutched tight around your bone and your arm twitches with the sudden  spring of pain. You attempt to slip your wrist out of his grasp, and when it doesn't work and he doesn't budge, you claw at his jaw recklessly. It's successful and he lets go of your wrist with a grunt.

He grabs your hair, fisting his fingers through your scalp before yanking it back. You swing your leg and kick him in the stomach, sending him back as you zoom past him.

He acts quick and grabs your tail, tugging you back towards him and for the millionth time this week, presses you against him. You stamp on his foot, digging your nails into the skin of his arm and he cries out, a half-hiss and half-groan. He flips you, finds the tree right beside you and pushes you flat against it. He takes both of your wrists into his hands as he shakes them angrily. You scramble and squirm in his grip. "I'll tell you what I know, girl, and you'll fucking listen."

You whine out a hiss, heart beating against your rib cage like it's about to pop out and splatter across the ground. He hisses back, edged fangs spiking out from his mouth and it makes your skin crawl in either a bad or a good way, you're not entirely sure.

"I know that you're the most beautiful person I've ever fuckin’ seen," he pants. "You don't know what you do to me, huh? Just your giggle makes my stomach drop. It annoys the shit out of me how you've got me drawn to you, it's damn stupid. I don't know what to do with myself anymore."

You try to wiggle your wrists out from his grip, but it proves to be helpless, a smug look flickering in his eyes that makes you want to clock him straight in the face. Jake picks your joined wrists up off the tree and slams them back onto the wood for a hard warning. "You— you think you're confused?" you sneer between huffed breaths. "Mr. I'mfuckingyoutohelpyouconcentratenotbecauseIwantto. Like that doesn't fuck with my feelings! By the way— it didn't help me focus, just like the last time, what a surprise."

His lips split into a snarl, an annoyed flick of his tail as he glares you down, his chest grumbling with a deep growl. You return him with the same feverous eyes, chest strong and upheld with no sense of backing down.

Then you catch it. The weakness of only a man; the millisecond of a pair of eyes dropped down to your heaving lips. Your eyelashes flutter, a new tension rushing in like a thick cloud of smoke. Your heads jut forward at the same time, teeth clashing in a rushed, wanted motion morphed into a messy kiss.

But it's different this time. It feels different, different than the first kiss he gave you the first time you were pushed up against a tree. You can't pinpoint it, but it's just different.

He lets your wrists go, grip fading to a none until your arms are flopping around his shoulders. His tongue slips with ease into the cavern of your mouth, as he uses a hand to cup the part of your neck just below your ear, bring your face even closer to his. You let your head tilt, allowing him a wider opening to your mouth that he groans lowly in thanks to.

He skims past your loincloth, palming your hot cunt and grinding the hard edge of his palm directly onto your clit. "This give you déjà vu from last time?"

You groan, back arching towards his head. "Shut up and put your fingers in me," you whine.

"I remember leaving with the biggest fuckin' boner. Seein' you all whiney and shit and like putty in my hands," he claims, seeming like he can just feel the pain from remembrance. "Good thing you can fix it for me this time."

He says this as he leisurely slides two fingers into your cunt, and you suck in a tight breath, the thick girth of them lengthening you out. "And just like that, sucking me allll the way in," he whispers in astonishment, just like the last time.

"Will you just shut up?" you groan, wheezing out a groan when his fingers curl into your walls. He strokes them in and out of you, slowly and steadily. He presses loosely at your clit, gentle circles on the sensitive bud.

Then he suddenly pulls his two fingers out, staring at the thin strings of your juices that stick to his finger pads, "Wet enough."

He kneels to the ground in a rush, taking you with him as he fumbles to untie your top. You drag your hands along his skin, touching every patch of hard bone and toned muscle you can manage. You're both kneeling in front of each other, grabbing at any clothing that gets in the way of each other's fingers. He pushes you back with a hand, laying you out in the grass as he scoops his hand down to your pussy, runs a thumb over your clit. Jake leans down, grabbing at the bone of your hips and jutting you closer to him.

Jake cooly wraps a hand around his cock, sighs as he starts to stroke the length in slow movements. He reaches out from behind him, and your stomach drops. He presents his tsaheylu to you with a sense of shyness, his head tilted down. You look between him and the glowy, spiky end of his platt.

Your silence speaks volumes to him, and just before he's going to say something to rub it off as a joke, you're reaching from behind you as well, body squirming in anticipation as you air your tsaheylu next to his. They twitch and fizzle, swaying so close and it's just that tiny bit of space that needs to be filled.

He looks to you, eyes softening in one last ask and you give him a reassuring, hasty nod. He readjusts his grip on his platt, leaning his tsaheylu just a little closer and they connect. A surge of electricity bolts through your body, biting in a gasp as your skin jitters. You feel it, you feel him, understand him. Understand everything.

Jake's blinking rapidly, as he leans over you just to nuzzle his face into your neck, his hot pants of breath pressing into your skin. He slurs over his words, "Oh my... fffuck, s' good, you're so good."

"Jake," you warn, voice wavering as you tremble underneath his warm body. "Need you ins— inside me. Right now, Jake, please."

He teases his cock at your entrance, letting out a shaky breath at your warm wetness trickling down his tip. You gasp when he slips it in with one thrust, bottoming out perfectly as he sits in snug. He breathes out a quiet laugh, "You're so... fuck, girl. So warm and— and ni—hice."

You dig your nails into his back, tail curling around his thigh. You feel everything he feels, connecting with him at such a level that all you can do is hold onto him, just needing to feel him, to hold him and kiss him and fuck him and do everything as long as it's him. You can only rasp one word out. "Jake."

He snaps his hips into you, starts at a pace that's brutal and uncalculated. His cock pushes into your tightness with ease, like it was made for him. You pull him in with each thrust he gives you, welcoming him in to the warmth of your femininity, your body that he's claimed as his.

Your pussy flutters around his girth with every single groan he lets slip from his throat, voice cracked and husky from the euphoria he's coated with. He lands a kiss to your neck, suckling at the skin before biting down, a sting that zips through your body all the way down to your cunt. You squeal, back snapping into an arch and he scoops an arm around it, giving him a better grip on your body to deepen his thrusts, to strive further up into your pussy.

He desperately grabs at your thighs, swings them up and over his shoulders as your feet dangle in the air. It opens up a whole new angle, and you scream out, his dick hitting steeper and stronger inside of you. Your hair is tangled from the ground, the skin of your back grinding against the dirt of it.

At the new found angle, he groans, head leaning up a little as his eyelids close halfway, his eyes bruised in a haze. He's completely lost in the way you squeeze around him, the way his cock feels sliding into your tight body. It's like a drug. A new found addiction.

"Shut up, hah— jus' fuck me," you babble, a moan ripping out of your chest when his hips thrust a sudden jolt into your pussy, brushing over your cervix.

"How funny," he pants out, smirking like a goddamn idiot and you frown.

"What?" you question, a quick moan breaking from you when a random wave of heat splashes through your stomach.

"Bet Selkath wishes he was wearing this necklace." He rasps, letting a harsh laugh fall from his mouth as he reaches up a hand and tugs on your ankles wrapped right around neck.

You make a weak hiss, turning into a groan when he lifts his body higher, angles his cock deeper up into your cunt. "If you don't shut up, maybe I'll let him."

Jake growls, eyes flicking wild, turning a dark and dangerous hue that you can tell is whipped with a color of jealousy, even betrayal. "You won't even be able to feel him graze your pussy once I'm done with you."

You feel a purr erupt from your chest, your inner woman squealing in delight because yes, she screams, he must breed you until all you can feel his body and only his and nothing else.

He brushes a hand over your cheek, face distorted in complete bliss and he stares deep into your face, tail swishing at the way your mouth agapes. His hands slip to your waist, thumbs digging into your stomach and he uses it as a leverage to bring you back harder onto his dick, lifting you up until you're practically leaning on his body to stay off the ground. He bends you to his will like you're a rubber band, like a toy.

"So warm," he coos, and you whine, digging your head into the grass laying beneath it. You don't want him saying that, don't want him climbing his stupid fingers into your heart and taking it any more than he already has. The feminine instinct fixed in the depths of you screams mate, mate, mate. Big, protective mate that needs to pound you into oblivion or you'll lose your mind. That along with the anger that burns inside you, like a match that's been lit way too many times and is about to snap underneath the pressure of his hands.

"Jake, just shut up," you snap, sentence ending on a hasty push when he smashes his lips onto yours, exploring your mouth with the thick flat of his tongue. He kisses you with a fever, an aching want with a grunt falling from his lips and straight onto the slick of your tongue. Jake crawls a hand up your body and to your head, fingers threading through your hair and he turns your head forcefully, allowing him to deepen the kiss and wrap his tongue tighter along yours.

"God, you're just fucking beautiful," he grunts, slapping your hips. "With this pretty fucking pussy, s' good for me and your little noises and— ssshhit, my girl. S' made for me, you're made for me."

My girl. It makes your stomach spin, makes you clench around his cock driving in and out of you and he groans, "You liked that, huh? My girl?"

You feel his pace inch a slower, and you're confused. His hand scrapes to one of your hands, slipping through the gaps of your fingers and he conjoins them together, pressing deep against the ground. His mouth breaks from yours, deep, panting breaths shaking out from his chest as he leans down to ravage your neck, licking and sucking at your skin like it's a ripe fruit.

You recognise the speed of his thrusts. Slow but strong, like he's trying to memorise each drag of his cock squeezing into your pussy, each squelch and pull of your walls gushing around his length. The rock of his hips is sweet, an act of something you can only describe as passion. You scratch out a whine. You squirm from underneath him, attempting to buck yourself up into him to speed it up, make him nail so hard into you that you see stars. But it doesn't work. He stays the same warm speed, slow rocks into your pussy as he lowly sighs with every calming push.

"No," you whimper, voice lower than a whisper, so quiet it could count as another breath. You huff out an angered patch of air out through your nose. You use both hands and push him, and he doesn't expect it because he tumbles back, flipping onto his back and hitting the trunk of the tree with a big thump. You ignore the cold air pushing on your wet cunt, the sudden loss of his cock deep inside of you making you shudder.

You crawl onto him, eyes wide with hunger and from what he can see, anger. Your tail flicks as you palm his shoulders, knees on each side of his legs as you air just above his dick. You grip at his tsaheylo and conjoin it to yours again, a flush rushing through you both. You catch the way his eyes flatten against his head for a second at your determined, heated gaze, now realising the rage you held. A woman who's not satisfied with her mate's fucking, there's nothing scarier. Especially after everything he's teased her for, everything he's done to her for the past week.

"Baby, you ain't gonna last two rocks with those little hips." Jake mutters, emphasising the words two rocks as he places his hands comfortable on your hips. You don't reply, instead lowering your body and inch by inch, sinking down onto his cock. He lengthens you up, and you feel so full and nice that you let out a sigh that screams finally, all the while hearing Jake take the biggest breath you've ever heard him take.

You're not wasting time as you start grinding against him, ears twitching, head falling back in utter bliss. Jake slips out a quiet laugh, and it sounds nervous. He watches as your breasts shift with each sway of your hips, and his cock twitches inside of you at the obscure scene. It's perfect, so, so perfect with the way his cock drags through you. But you need more.

You begin lifting yourself up, rocking right back down onto him, the motion of riding coming into play little by little. Jake's breath hitches, his hands twitching at your hips. Your cunt pulses around him, puffy folds tugging his dick so perfectly. He lets his head slump against the tree, the rise of his chest speeding up.

You lean forward, a sudden desperation taking over you, the anger flickering in your abdomen crackling to a fire. You grab at his hair, press your cheek against the top of his head as your hips move in an up and down circular motion. Jake chokes out a grunt, springing forward to kiss at your chest, shoving his face into your breasts as his tongue lolls out along your bare skin.

He pants, messy kisses along your chest as his mouth fans out hot breaths. "My g—"

"Shut. Up." You pull on his hair, forcing his head further back and moaning as you stride your body, moving his cock in so deep, then moving it just about out before you rock it back in. You shift a hand to grip at the tree for better stability, rising up before gravity whips you back down onto his dick. A whine leaves his lips, a literal whine. It's so, so quiet, but you hear it, and he knows it. He can tell by the way your ears flutter at his head. You puff out a laugh that's hilted with breath.

He leaves deep kisses along your chest, kissing at the plush fat of your tits and decorating the map of your torso with dark marks and tiny red hickeys. His tongue finds your nipple, swirling it around the hard bud and you move your hips faster, huffing out a moan as sweat beads neat at your forehead. The blunt of his nails dig deep into the skin of your hips, and starts to move your hips with his grip, sharpening your strokes into his dick and you hum an appreciated sigh.

You've left him stunned for words, mouth hung open as you grind your cunt deep along his cock, riding him like he's a goddamn stallion. You wrap your fingers around his leathered choker, leaning your head back and pulling him rough into an even rougher kiss. You can feel him pant into the kiss, his silent groans pressing on your tongue. His lips are wet and messed with saliva from previous times, all the while making them softer and easier to run your tongue over.

A broken moan escapes his mouth, muffled by your lips engulfed in his but it only whips the fire tangled inside your tummy, makes your body swing harder along his. You give him a sloppy kiss on the corner of his lips, before nibbling at the bottom centre of it, "Who's whining now?"

His hips jerk up into yours, a stutter of a motion and you can feel the vibration, the angry rumble of his chest and it only encourages you further to drive your hips harder. "Still you," he bites, but his pinched expression melts into a blissful one when you raise your waist higher, slamming back down onto him in one quick motion.

Anger fuels through your bones, all the way down your body to your toes that dig into the ground, dirt blotched on them from the constant movement and curl of them. Jake snaps his hips up into your sopping sex, gaining a low groan through his chest as he digs his messy head of hair into the tree against him.

Your body burns and shakes with every stride of your hips, sliding his cock into you with reckless rhythm. You're shivering with hot emotion, a blurred mixture of adore and vexation, and Jake can feel every single drop of it. You feel him shift underneath you, eyes squinting and his tail whacking the tree accidentally with a swift brush. He mumbles your name, the hoarse gruff of his voice sending a shivered bolt down your spine.

You already know he's preparing some rushed apology, some kind of reason as to why he's been throwing you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes lately but you don't want to hear it. All your body and your being screams at you is to ride his cock and make him spill into you. Mark him as yours.

You want the release, can feel it burning up inside you and splintering at your fingertips, ready to explode into flames. Except this time it isn't him giving it to you, you're giving it to yourself, circling your hips around his cock like it's the last thing you're going to do.

And by Eywa, does Jake fucking love it. He's too focused in the way your perfect little cunt drives him, slipping his cock into your body like it's a piece of cake. He's entranced by the way your hips dance, the perky little bone of them sticking out against your skin each time you lean forward into his stomach. He's getting fucked dumb, and he can't even bring himself to give a shit. Never in his life has he ever met a girl that could ride like you. No, never in his life has a ever met a girl like you. And he doesn't think he ever will, not that he wants or needs to now. Your body is just too sickly sweet, and everything in his body screams at him to just keep his cock glued into you, fill you with his cum until all you can feel is it.

You feel it coming, feel the same mountain morphing as it soars above you. You use your hand to lean at his head, using it as your advantage to ride him rougher, dragging his cock firmer into your cunt. He lets you, now fucking up into you with matched energy and you're bouncing from the capacity. Sweat is slick on your skin, mending with his own and you just need to feel him, touch the soft skin he owns as you bounce on his length. Apparently Jake feels the same, as he pinches and grabs at any part of your body he can reach, mouth touching where his hands can't.

He drags out your name, desperation covering the word and filling in the air after with throaty groans. “Let me come in you, sweetheart. Come on, please. Need to, darlin’ please, need—“

“Yes,” you squeal, scratching at his skin while jutting your hips against him violently. “Pleasepleaseplease,” you beg, crave covering your voice in a high-pitched whine.

Then it hits you, like a bomb setting off, the fire in your belly exploding into millions of little red embers. The mountain erupts like a volcano, and you can feel every little piece cracking down into the ground and out your body. Jake yells out, croaking out a loud grunt as he spills into you, coating your walls with his sticky load. Your head’s spinning, eyes seeing a splash of colors and all you can do is rock in his arms, as you attempt to catch your running breath.

You’re trembling, quaking even as you lay still, Jake’s cock sitting limp in your body. The only thing you can focus on is your conjoined breaths, everything else seeming to hard to even look at. You don’t even realise you’re crying until the tears sink to your neck, and the sound of your quiet sniffles.

You don’t know how long it’s been until Jake begins to shift, and you pull enough strength to lean back. He looks to you, his face set into a hue of content, a small smug smile pulling at his lips. He reaches out to your face, wipes the tears on your face with his thumb lazily. “Holy shit,” he chuckles.

You let out a needed, soft laugh, and his smile widens at the noise of it, tail whisking up at your reaction. He pulls in a breath, chest rising up as he takes both his arms and cups your face. You lean into his warm touch, slumping your forehead against his.

“I see you,” he whispers gently, curling a few fingers around your neck.

“I see you.” You whisper back, mouth cracking into a giddy smile. And when you look into his eyes, you recognise the emotion behind them within a second; love.

wow. biggest chapter out of all of them and i can’t decide whether i like it or not

BIG SHOUTOUT TO @slxttedjakesullyenthusiast who helped me make this filthy fucking piece of whatever it is and if u don’t go follow her im kicking you in the pussy don’t test me

[xoxizzy]

❝ send you my love on a wire, lift you up every time

✧.* sirius black x fem reader

﹫ rockstar au (both you and sirius are in a band)

﹫ synopsis: sirius finds himself in need of makeup help; he locates you, his girlfriend for that help, even with all the makeup artists in the venue.

﹫ cw: lowercase intended, sitting in laps (not sexual), not proofread at all, wrote this pretty fast lmao, shitty writing once again, characters prob don't act how they would irl if that makes sense ig?

^᪲᪲᪲ you dipped your finger into the small container holding silver sparkles; a gift that remus had bought for your birthday a few months back. brining your hand up to your face, you gently dabbed the glitter on your cheekbones, your hand movements blending the lightly wet makeup into your skin smoothly.

suddenly the door to your backstage room swung open, revealing the infamous sirius black; who was also your boyfriend. "hi darling," you smiled, making eye contact though the mirror you sat infront of.

"hey love," he mused, coming to stand behind you; eyes roaming over the makeup layed out on the table. "i thought we had makeup artists to do this,' he laughed, making eye contact with you again through the mirror.

you scoffed. "oh please, we all know they are mainly for james. he can't keep his hand steady for the life of him," you moved your head to the side to view the glitter and make sure it was evenly spreaded out on your face.

sirius laughed again. "right about that, my love," he moved from behind you to sit on a nearby chair. you looked over at him, now just noticing that he didn't have any makeup on. "lovely, think you could do my makeup" he asked, smiling at you rolling your eyes at him.

"what happened to having makeup artists do it?" you asked, though you sat up and motioned for him to sit in the chair you just were.

he sat up, smiling at you. "yeah, buttt" he said, dragging out the end of the word as he sat down. "you always do it better than them," he explained, moving his curly hair out of the way so you had free roam of his face.

"they have degrees in cosmetology," you giggled, helping him move his hair out of the way.

he scoffed playfully. "then how come you don't have one?" he asked. "your looks always look better than theirs," he countined, his hands coming up behind him to gently hold onto your upper arm.

"oh sure," you replied, but your attention was now mainly on his makeup. "what look do you wanna do tonight, siri?" you asked, bringing your other hand to caress his jawline from your position behind him.

"well first," he said. "i want you infront of me, love," he countined, motioning with his free hand for you to sit in his lap. you smiled at his antics of always wanting to be close to you.

'whatever you say darling," you mused as you got comfortable in his lap. his hands eminently went to your waist, securing you in place. "hom, im gonna need to be able to grab the makeup," you laughed. his hands only tightened around your waist, his head coming to rest in your neck; his movements being mindful of your makeup.

"we still have an hour before going on," he mumbled from his spot in your neck. "we can cuddle for a little bit," he hummed, thumbs rubbing circles into your waist.

you giggled lightly. "whatever you say, siri." you brought your arms up to his neck, bringing the two of you closer together. "would you want to match makeup today?" you asked, hand mindlessly messing with his dark curls.

you felt him grin from his spot in your neck. "i'd thought you'd never ask, love,"

— song from title: black sheep by metric —

[niichanism]

wanted to put this fic Somewhere lol it’s uhhhh that “what if ace got sold into slavery in Marie Geoise instead of being executed except long lost brother Sabo is (somehow) in deep cover as a CD there and impulsively pilfers money from the revolution funds to buy and protect his brother” logistically i run into problems w this concept but i do think like. childhood friends fake dating except it’s high stakes fake master/slave is like. 1. potential funny 2. hot 3. compelling in that acesabo are living in their own actual personal hells together shfhdd

tw: mob character/ace attempted SA, non-graphic maiming of dick, ace honorable suicide ideation ig, sabo…… just poor sabo lol, the cd slave brand thing soRRY ACE idk the usual “i don’t like spoilering much so if you’re sensitive don’t read this it’s borderline dead dove”

————-

In the span of a week, Ace had gone from being Blackbeard’s captive to the World Government's prize, and finally, unexpectedly, into the greasy hands of professional slavers. 

That was a twist he hadn't expected. He couldn’t quite get his head around it. 

Ace much preferred the rough touch of pirates or marines to this sickening cushiness, treated with care while strung up like meat. They bathed him in sea water. He was so nauseous he could barely twitch his limbs. His skin only recoiled wherever they washed away dirt or tended to wounds from the fight. He was scrubbed pink, patched, or soothed where every blemish would be. His ribs were still broken. Almost good as new, the lackey had reported to her overseers.

As confusing as it was infuriating. Then, somehow, reading the lusterless eyes of the other captives, he understood. They were gagged like Ace was. They had the faint, forlorn expressions of long-term prisoners. But how neat and tidy they were– their hair, skin, and even what little clothes they had were as well-kept as the circumstances allowed. Again, Ace’s body thrummed with a knock-out combo of adrenaline and disgust. He recalled Sabo saying that nobles don't care about anything but appearances. If it can’t improve their status, it's worthless to them. 

Ace would rather die than be some dolled up or dressed down status symbol for the rich. He'd rather jump and let the ocean take him. He’d rather have fallen in battle to a scumbag like Teach or even met his end on the navy’s chopping block, flipping Garp the bird one last time. 

Then, the silver lining— he’d see Sabo again, at least. There was always the chance that he’d find an opening once they hit landfall. If he could, he’d burn this place to a crisp and take all these poor folks to far greener pastures, one way or another. He just had to keep his wits together. No matter what, he wasn’t going to let anyone buy him. 

Or if they did get that far, he’d make sure they regretted it. For now, the issue was that all the adrenaline and disgust had nowhere to go. He kept his ears open for any hints as to when they’d finally reach this mystery destination, because the boredom was beginning to gnaw at him like rats. Eventually one of the trader lackeys came swaggering up to him. Ace had a really good fucking sense for when someone was looking to pick a fight. The guy had a bit of a beer belly and the seediest possible leer, two beady eyes on pallid sailor skin. 

“So this is really him…” he said, gruff and low. “Not bad at all.”

The man tipped his face up at the chin. Ace tossed it out of his hold, ignoring him otherwise. The man chuckled. The only other slaver in the room glanced over and growled. “Careful with the merchandise–”

“Relax,” said the first man, annoyed. “I’m not gonna do anything to damage him– if he behaves, that is. I’m just gonna feed him something.” Gag. It was worse because he was hungry. Ace set his jaw as best he could around the ball gag. If he thought of all the scumbags he’d dealt with up to now, he felt like he could crush anything between his teeth. 

The man wrenched a hand into his hair and jerked him forward. Manacles and chains trapped Ace’s knees on the floor of a cage. The man stood just outside the bars with a taunting look.  “Y’see, Fire Fist, I work hard, and so I’ve got this little game,” he explained, as if Ace gave a shit. “I get a kick out of testing the goods before we get to Marie Geoise. I get a little spin before even the Celestial Dragons get their hands on ‘em.” First, that the trader was already palming his crotch was disgusting, but secondly– Ace closed in on one particular detail. Marie Geoise? For a moment his mouth went slack, saliva pooling beneath the gag. The trader’s grip tightened in Ace’s bath-damp waves, threatening to rip hair from his scalp. His mind was still spinning: Marie Geoise. Celestial Dragons. The last puzzle pieces falling into place. If that was what they were doing, then… “Man, I could talk about it for years if Gold Roger’s son sucked my cock,” the slaver chuckled, letting go of Ace’s head. He squeezed his eyes shut. 

Fuuuuuck. His bounty had always seemed a bit suspect, shooting up when he’d done nothing of note to earn it. In the back of his mind, he’d sometimes wonder if the marines knew. 

 There was a clinking and rustling as the man popped his fly open and lowered his trousers.

 It was so outrageous, so beyond what anyone would have fucking dared to do to him, that Ace only felt a numb sort of shock first. He didn’t want to look at the filthy thing, already hard and eager. Marie Geoise. Celestial Dragons. Gold Roger’s son. The man shuffled closer to the bars, then manhandled Ace’s head low so he could smear the tip on his cheek. Ace’s eyes went wide. The rage hit him right after. “Yeah, a pretty thing like you will need the practice,” the trader drawled. “If the dragons don’t tear you to shreds first. Nasty fucks, them.”  Everyone knew the Celestial Dragons were self-righteous, inhumane sacks of crap who treated anyone else like dirt. Everyone knew that their slaves had it worst of all, beaten and broken with a snowball’s chance in hell of escaping. And it seemed that soon, everyone would know that Ace was Gol D. Roger’s last remaining flesh and blood. “You’re shaking, sweetheart,” the slaver jeered. “A big, bad pirate–? Hilarious. Not so scary without your devil fruit power, are ya?”

Off came the ball gag. The first thing Ace did was spit. A thick, leathery thumb pried into his mouth. Ace sputtered, fought, then bit down– fuck, he was hungry. The man’s glove prevented the drawing of blood, though he did make a small grunt of discomfort and tore his hand away.

 “Don’t need my devil fruit to fuck you up,” Ace hissed. He glared at the dick half a foot away from his face. Ace had sucked a lot of cock in his time. Bigger ones, smaller ones. Sometimes drunk, sometimes as a penalty for losing a bet– fair was fair– but this was something else. The man hunched over to indicate the heavy metal collar around Ace’s neck. Ace felt his spine chill. He missed a few hours ago when he was content to wonder things like when do we get there and where did my necklace go, aw. Marie Geoise meant that the game had changed somewhat.“You know about this? I’m sure someone explained it to you,” he said roughly. His hard, flinty eyes sparkled with glee. “Try to take it off, or even touch it a certain way, and it’ll explode. Splatters your fuckin’ brains on the wall. I’ve seen it before– gruesome stuff. Real shite way to go.” Ace ran his tongue over his teeth, glaring daggers. Not much to look at, though, so he checked around with some choice words in his throat. A few other gagged folks were either watching with bated breath or pointedly looking away. The only other free man in the room was halfway out the door, glancing back like this foul display was only worth an exasperated shake of the head. 

“I see,” Ace said, eyes flicking back. “Brains on the wall, huh.”

“There’s just me and you right now, Ace. Could always say it was an unfortunate accident,” the slaver said. “If you get what I’m saying, then open wide.” Ace resisted as best he could with that steel grip in his hair again. The power of the seastone cuffs had long seeped into his veins, making him sleepy. Gritting his teeth was the most force he could exert– eventually he locked his jaw and stopped struggling. “It’d be easy,” the slaver pressed. He touched anywhere he wanted, hair, lips, freckled cheeks.  Ace hadn’t felt clean to begin with, but now… now he wanted to vomit on this guy’s shoes. “Just one press of a button, one tug of that collar, and boom. World keeps spinning. I can’t imagine anyone would miss scum like you.”

A rough squeeze on either side of his jaw finally forced Ace’s mouth open. With one last grimace, he gave up. Let his tongue hang out. The man’s brutish face softened with satisfaction. Ace loathed allowing even that much.  “That’s more like it, baby,” the slaver crooned, grabbing his cock and jerking it. “Yeah. You play my little game nice, and we’ll keep your head on your shoulders. How’s that sound?” Ace scowled, but he was so visibly tired. This gave way to a slow, slow nod, a sigh– and then his stomach vaulting as he opened his mouth. Again, not the first time he’d had a dick in there. Though there was the chance it’d be his last. The trader moved with concentration, hot flesh sliding past Ace’s open lips. There was a groan, and both meaty hands pawed at Ace’s head. Ace didn’t wait a second. He didn’t suck for an instant. He moved his tongue out of the way and then bit down as hard as he possibly could. The scream was delightful. Nobody could look away after that. 

That beer belly wrenched away from his teeth as quickly as possible, whole body toppling back onto the dirty ship floor. The big idiot shrieked, holding his groin and rolling. 

 Ace had to laugh, then grin again with blood on his teeth. He raised his voice enough to be heard over those wails of pain. 

“Hey, go on and do it, you think I give a shit?” he said, then spat out the taste of iron. He tilted his head back, offering his own capital punishment with brazen ease. “I’ve got my pride. I’d rather die a man than a coward.” 

He got a lively string of expletives in response. Didn’t do the guy much good, since he seemed unable to get off the ground just yet. Ace’s head was still very much attached to his shoulders, for better or worse. 

The screaming was pretty entertaining, or at least Ace’s fellow would-be slaves seemed to think so– he searched for eye contact in the dim light and found a few sure smiles. And a few very worried looks. Well, Ace hadn’t really calculated his odds on this one. 

Morbidly curious, he leaned over to check the damage. From what glimpses he could see– yikes. “Damn, that thing’ll never work again!” he hollered in a pitying, cheerful voice. “Go on, waste me for it. Unless you don’t have the– the balls?” That seemed pretty funny to him at the moment, and he burst out laughing. 

“Should’ve bought me dinner first, asshole!” 

“I’ll fucking kill you–”

“Do it,” Ace goaded. It was impossible to stop himself. Self-preservation had never been a strong point for him. At least, he thought, he’d go out with a good laugh, doing something he loved— picking a fight. With all that blood rushing in his ears, he wanted to believe that he was content with that. 

Better to go down as a free man, without troubling anyone, and before facing a whole world that would know exactly how and why to hate him. 

With a howl of rage, the dickless wonder tried to maneuver onto his knees, get closer to the bars of the cage. Fever-brained, Ace imagined that he’d only have to yank at the collar a certain way to spark whatever demonic mechanism ended in explosions. Truly a shite way to go– not because of the gore, but the injustice. It made him angry. Maybe he’d bite this asshole again. Light cascaded into the darkness from the door. Two other slavers arrived, no doubt summoned by the screaming. The man from before walked over, surveying that Ace was still chained down– he very much was– then he tsk’d at the mess. He nudged the fallen with his boot, cross with disgust and sympathy pain. “I told you this would happen someday,” he said. “Why stick your dick in the bitey part of the pirate?” Ace laughed, breathless. His mouth was so dry that it hurt. The blood hadn’t helped.  Predictably, there was another slew of vicious threats, and Ace was beginning to realize that he’d mentally prepared himself for nothing. Nobody was getting any closer to that kill switch on his collar. 

There wasn’t any relief in that. Just dread, doubled when one of the other slavers spoke again. “Moron, we’re on strict orders to deliver that one to the World Nobles. That’s a done deal– you should’ve known you couldn’t touch–”

Eugh. The stomach ache was back. Ace dipped his head, not wanting to look at any of that anymore. There was some struggling. Whether someone approached the kill switch or not, Ace couldn’t bring himself to care. “You can’t lay a hand on him!” He squeezed his eyes shut. He had been untouchable for a hundred different reasons before all this. And after this, probably, not so much. Marie Geoise. He remembered the rage welling up in him the one or two times he’d seen the deadened-red slave brand on a survivor. Sure, he reminded himself, there were survivors. 

Self-preservation had never been a strong point of his. “Fire Fist, no rations ‘til you’re on death’s fucking door,” came a harsh voice. Ace spat again.  The door slammed shut, leaving the ship’s human cargo in the sparse light of one hanging lamp. Ace breathed out. “Whew. Fuck.” A few good-humored huffs later, he noticed something:

In all the commotion, the slave traders failed to gag him again. Little blessings. Ace breathed– slightly– more easy. 

“Sorry for all the noise, everyone,” he said. In other cages, in other chains, they blinked back at him. He was winding down, but he laughed again, near croaking. “Damn, I hope they’re all stupid enough to try that.” 

Maybe he could take out a few World Nobles that way. Justice for Sabo. He’d probably think that was pretty funny. 

—

It was incredible what you could do by shouting increasingly high numbers.

That was the kind of senseless world the Celestial Dragons inhabited. From his despicable place in the audience and with dread heavy in his gut, Sabo watched the guards yank Ace to his feet and drag him away. Sabo didn’t sit down. The auctioneer’s voice rang in his head: We have a winning bid! Gold Roger’s son, Portgas D. Ace, to Saint Robspierre! Hearing that esteemed name was like a ripple in a pond, a jerk of a trigger. It always took that extra split second for Sabo to remember that that was him, and it had never haunted him quite as much as it did just then. Currents of relief and distress canceled each other out. Sabo felt numb, heart pounding in his ears, knees locked up where he stood. On either side of him, World Nobles lifted their heads to survey him with open disdain. “Congratulations, Saint Robspierre,” a beady-eyed woman simpered, accompanied by her nodding, useless husband. “How fun for you.” “Thank you,” Sabo replied with mechanical ease, a glass smile. He couldn’t be in this space a minute longer. “I think I’ll go look at him.” The perfect balance of civility and entitlement. It was a surprise that this quaint, simple rudeness was more the norm here than not, but he’d adjusted. He felt dozens and dozens of eyes on him as he reached the staircase aisles. He ignored them, shoulders rolled back and head held high. Guards fell into line behind him. Another irritating norm.

He didn’t want an entourage if he was going to meet his brother under circumstances like these. Still, he had to go. For a thousand reasons, he needed to see Ace as soon as possible. That wasn’t slave auction protocol, but he could do whatever he wanted here. Anything except the right thing. * Keeping his face neutral when faced with his long-lost brother was more difficult than he’d thought it would be. He always hated this iciness he had to let in. At the moment even his blood was frozen solid. Of course the World Nobles’ auction house had a room for branding people. Sabo knew this was coming, but his vision was blurring anyway. He didn’t think it would be so soon. He thought he’d have more time. 

Ace was still completely naked with his back to the room. Under grease-shiny dark waves of hair, there was the clear buckled leather of the gag pulled tight. Those seastone cuffs strung him up near spread-eagle. It looked torturous. The painful part hadn’t even started yet. 

Like so many times before, all of Sabo’s fury channeled into his fists. Now, it all felt like too much for mortal knuckles and palms, even with gloves dulling the sensation. It was like his bones creaked. He couldn’t focus on anything but the pain, the red in his vision, Whitebeard’s jolly roger splayed and trembling across his brother’s broad back. He could use Dragon Claw and kill everyone else there. He searched the room for the key to Ace’s cuffs. Maybe he could break them? Even in deep cover, it wasn’t like he’d forgotten how to use armament haki. Escape the auction hall with Ace, and then– Sabo squeezed his eyes shut. And then what? Get the godforsaken “holy” land shut down, with a thousand marines and admirals on their ass? Ace probably wasn’t in the best shape to be thrown into a mess like that. And it would be a mess. His starting plan was less reckless, sure, but there was an increasing chance that it was going to make him throw up, crack open, crack something. 

The branding irons were lined up on the wall. The fire was stoked. The three or so men in the room stiffened up at the sight of him, and lowered their heads in immediate deference. It made Sabo violently ill this time. “You’re going to brand him?” he asked. One of the men lifted his head in a rush. “Saint Robspierre, thank you for the honor of your business–” “Are you going to brand him?” Sabo asked again. It astounded him how out of control he sounded.  But it was nothing worth worrying about when the men ducked their heads again. “No, Sir– of course– he will be branded, but we understand our esteemed clientele like to participate– we were waiting– but of course we can begin at your leisure—”

Infuriating. Sabo glanced over at Ace just to watch the soft heave of his back, the rise and fall that felt like his last tether to sanity. “Quiet,” Sabo said. He needed to think. It often worked to his advantage that people weren’t used to questioning Celestial Dragons on anything. So far removed from humans, indeed. He walked closer to Ace with a knot in his throat, head pounding. His approaching footsteps made Ace struggle again anew, little grunts of protest slipping past the gag. Sabo paused at his side, looking for injuries, half-afraid to look at his face. One glimpse of freckles was enough. Any more and he wasn’t sure his act would hold up. He could question the need for a slave brand, play it like he wanted his new toy just the way it was. Marking Celestial Dragon property was a law, yet laws could be overturned at a whim. The issue was not the rules but the unspoken, sick, crazed rot of this place.

 Mercy was weakness. Empathy was below them. Any significant deviance from the status quo was unacceptable. Any sign of anything abnormal hit the rumor mill and rattled it for days, down a grapevine so tense and maddening that Sabo understood it’d bite him in the ass within hours. 

If he asked to skip the branding, that would only warrant enough unwanted attention to make everything else harder. It was already going to be a tough ask to lay low with the pirate king’s son on a leash– because that was how they’d advertised it, of course, making the Celestial Dragons froth at the mouth with interest. It’d been even worse when they saw him, too, because he was– the wanted posters didn’t do him justice. No, they wanted as little attention as possible.

Sabo turned around. “I’ll do it,” he said simply, carelessly.

“Of course, Sir– if it’s no trouble to you–” He crossed the room, gliding his gloved hand down the pole of black iron with that hateful symbol at the end. Was he really going to do this? It was no question that Ace could handle the pain, Sabo thought. And if it was up to him, he could at least ensure a light touch, a lack of unchecked sadism. It made sense. Unfortunately, it made sense. He’d make it up to Ace no matter what. Beg if he needed to. Ace would understand. Ace would understand, right? “If it pleases this Celestial Dragon,” one of the auction house men said, “you’ll want to hold it over the coals until it is bright red. Press evenly over the skin– just beneath the shoulder blades is customary, Sir.” Sabo searched for the smallest possible brand and took the iron off the wall. It was much lighter than a pipe, yet it felt a thousand times harder to hold. 

“This is your first purchased slave, is it not, Saint Robspierre?” Sabo looked up to tell one of these low-class bastards to fuck off with the small talk, only to freeze in his tense, neutral expression at the joyful look on Saint Martine’s face. Three Celestial Dragons stood in the doorway. Right, Sabo could do anything he wanted under this cover only because all of these soulless elites could do the same. Ace jostled his chains at every end. Sabo even couldn’t imagine how pissed off he was if Sabo was this pissed just breathing the same air as them. Why was this suddenly a party? It seemed much more likely in that moment that he really would kill someone rather than lay a fucking finger on Ace.

This smug-faced World Noble fancied himself on speaking terms with Sabo because of the time they’d spent together. Time that had turned into deals. Deals that had turned into laundering money back to the Revolutionary Army– how smug Sabo had felt when his targets were providing information and resources toward their own downfall. 

It couldn’t come soon enough. “Yes,” Sabo replied. It was like the muscles of his face had a mind of their own: he even managed to smile again. “I couldn’t pass up the chance.”

“I don’t blame you,” one of the nobles chuckled. 

“As long as you share,” sneered another. Her nose wrinkled. “That one deserves every punishment we can think of. I can’t believe they even allowed Roger’s devil spawn to live that long. What was the navy thinking?” 

“Incompetents. Naturally, it falls to us to rid the world of that criminal’s blood.”

“Just sharing air with it is vile, really,” said the old man. The ignorant, cold disgust on their faces made Sabo nearly tremble with rage. “Vermin like that need to pay for every breath it takes until it’s begging for death–” “It would be a waste to rip him to pieces just yet,” Sabo cut in, his voice like steel. He circled haki away from his hands and let his hatred for the Celestial Dragons color his voice. “I’ll be training him first. Trash like this must be made to understand their place.” Sorry, Ace, he thought vehemently. Just a little longer, then you’ll never have to see these fucking people again. In that regard, at least, Ace was the lucky one. The trio laughed. “Of course, Robspierre. With your tastes… I’m surprised you didn’t indulge sooner. But there are finer specimen with… less abhorrent blood.”

Sabo’s blood boiled. He turned. The sight of Ace suffering was tantamount to setting his eyes on fire, but he just focused on that rise and fall. That was what mattered. These rotten bastards could yap all they want, the coddled little dogs that they were, but they weren’t going to so much as touch his brother. 

“But I indulge plenty,” Sabo replied, offering one last tight-lipped smile. He was fairly certain he understood what he was being lobbied for. “When I get bored of him, I’ll keep you all in mind, of course. It’s hardly fair of me to have all of the fun.”   Their mouths curled up. Good. They’d scurry back to their equally rotten friends and maintain Sabo’s reputation. Stay out of his hair for a while until he could figure out how to best ship Ace out of his place.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I was about to …” With a heavy exhale, Sabo wandered towards the fire, dull branding iron in hand. “Ooh!” shrilled the woman. “I want to do it.” “He’s mine,” Sabo said icily, stabbing the brand into the coals with a little too much strength. He watched scorching light engulf the metal and wildly lick at the sides of the pit. He imagined the whole of Marie Geoise inside that fire. “Now, now. Sometimes watching is just as rewarding as doing the work,” Saint Martine conversationally told his friends. “And it is Robspierre’s very first time, no?” At this point, it was better to ignore them. He didn’t want this moment to have an audience. He didn’t want it to happen at all. But according to his plan, this was the single big obstacle before he could shelter Ace deep in his assigned estate. Better to get it over with, even with those invasive, beady eyes on him. He was going to throw up if this went on any longer than it had to. He checked that Ace’s gag was still on, that he’d have something to bite into. He quickly surveyed the toned canvas of Ace’s back, taken up so wholly by that skull and bones. Sabo had a lot of curiosity about that– about his brothers in general. Just learning about them would be the privilege of his life if Ace ever opened up to him again. 

  Sabo hadn’t been so nauseated and dizzy in years. The brand was about the size of his fist. Deciding the placement for Ace’s sake was difficult. The chest would hurt. Limbs were too far removed from tradition; it’d be pointless. The jolly roger must’ve been important to Ace, so he had to leave it untarnished. On the shoulders, it’d be painful and harder to hide. 

The chains jangled. He was panting, horribly tense. Sabo winced. That was going to make it hurt worse. 

Get it over with. Sabo squeezed his eyes shut. Ace, I’m sorry. 

It lasted two seconds and felt like an eternity. He had a steady touch. The sound and smell of sizzling flesh repulsed him. His chest throbbed. Knowing that this was a brand meant to imprison the body and soul beyond help, that this was Ace being so crudely violated– it felt like the worst thing Sabo had ever done in his life. 

Ace didn’t scream. At most, there was a deep, clipped groan, almost like a throaty sigh. Sabo quickly removed the iron, frantic eyes scanning over his work. He’d at least succeeded in leaving a lighter touch– the geometric dragon’s claw was a marred light pink on the firm flesh just above his ass and below the small of his back. With any hope, it’d be barely noticeable once it healed.

 Sabo sighed, too. “You can’t be done already,” one of the World Nobles gasped behind him, dripping with sincere disbelief. Celestial Dragons were not just heartless; they were also so petty, having nothing but sick tradition to cling to. “You have to make him scream, Robspierre.” “While we’re at it, melt that filthy pirate insignia off his back–” “Delightful idea– we could also carve it up!” “Why, that mark’s far too light–” “As I said,” Sabo bit out, eyes blazing, “it would be a waste to maim his body before using it. And why darken the mark? Everyone ought to already know he’s a slave. He’s never leaving this place.” 

His throat was near painfully dry. Everyone looked at him with bated breath, shocked by the tension. He’d let his haki slip half on accident. It cramped the room, intimidating every other inhabitant who only had the barest subconscious awareness of it. “When I’m done with him, do as you please,” Sabo said. “But I’ll appreciate complete privacy to better inspect my—“ His voice went too tight; he started again. “You wouldn’t want to miss the rest of the auction, would you?” 

[headingalaxys-spicy]

Yo! Gotta say it dude

I love your writing, headcanons n AUs, trust me whenever I got the chance to catch a look on this phone screen I hop on tumblr and read smth from u fr, thank u for saving me and lot of ppl who follow ur acc from boredom and other things.

Buuuuut I also got a little request here, ofc if u don't mind,

So I'm sorta obsessed with 2p'hetalia , especially with 2p Russia(and ig that's obvious lol), can ya write some more about Viktor braginsky(2p russia), like literally anything you want.. I just wanna read anything about that man 😩🤌🏼 - ash the salad🥗💜

Again thank you <3

Honestly, I love having my ask box open. The majority of y’all are giving me the will to live sometimes. I hope this does not disappoint. Enjoy! :) 

2p Russia during Spooky Season Headcannons

He’s likely written down plot 5,769 to torment and kill 2p America in one of the many journals he keeps. [Al pranked Viktor again by egging his house, teepeeing it, and also having a well-covered pitfall that Viktor fell into and broke his arm] 

“I’ve had enough of this bullshit. Stupid American has to pay piper.” 

Viktor either likes to serve his Karma cold like the ice tundra he was born into, or he’ll make a Rube Goldberg-like machine that seems to have an anti-climactic end, only to have it be devastating. The delayed devastation will be something that fucks all up Al so much to where he will have to reincarnate his entire body, not to mention the fucking recovery time will be a month or so. [For perspective, it takes at least 24 hours-78 hours (usually) for any nation to recover if they’ve been fatally injured]

Night owl. Viktor enjoys the solace of the night. This works for him since being around too many people or just people, in general, annoys and drains him. Since it’s Fall, sunlight is far more scarce. Viktor will also enjoy strolls through the forest under the guidance of the moonlight if, for whatever reason, he’s unable to sleep or concentrate on any task he needs to complete or a hobby of his. 

Viktor loves going to movie theatres when they’re mostly empty. He goes to see the yearly installment of whatever popular horror movie is out. On occasion, he will be impressed by a breakout masterpiece or some film director's magnum opus, which will make him want to rewatch a movie. [By rewatch, I mean it’s background noise for him while he knits, does chores, or cooks.] 

Viktor knows of the best-hidden libraries and bookshops and the best Halloween displays for the top books of the season. He likes to pick his top 5 and read through them to see which ones are the best and rank them in his journals. 

The dude can carve some intricate pumpkins. I’m talking about hyperrealistic-looking monsters from Russian folklore. Viktor even carves other things such as ghoulish faces, eyes, and ghosts [that somehow he made to look translucent with just a candle and his X-ACTO knife.] These will be the main decorations that adorn his house.  

Some of his other favorite decorations are spiders and their webs. 

He will always dress as the Grim Reaper because he has bright scarlet eyes, a menacing demeanor, and a terrifying aura. Plus, with the hood obscuring half of his face…. Yeah, his citizens know full well he’s not to be fucked with. [unless you really just give no fucks and don’t have a vested interest in having a quality of life or…being alive] 

In the bar Viktor frequents, the owner had cut a deal with him: Be here in Sept & Oct dressed as the Grim Reaper and let people trouble him for a picture, and he gets paid in any Vodka he can drink for the night, his own special place in the bar that won’t be crowded by people, and fifty Rubes per hour. To Viktor, it's not a bad deal. The owner even had a scythe commissioned to be made with Sterling Silver to make sure he could look as accurate as the Grim Reaper as possible. 

On the actual day of Halloween in the morning [3:33 am], he’ll throw a dart at the map of his nation and where it lands will be where he seeks out a mystic babushka to get his fortune read.

[levicorpus94]

Longing

A/N: Hello, this is my first time posting fanfic. Most of my fanfic end up in my drafts. I hope you enjoy.

Warnings: Some angst ig

Sebastian x f!reader

Note: F!reader will be called “she/her”, I don’t particularly enjoy using “M.C” or “Y/N”

Part 2

————————————————————————

It had been five years since she had graduated from Hogwarts. She was now running a small flower and herb shop near Ottery St. Catchpole. Her shop included flowers, magical plants and also vegetation plants. Her shop was attached to her home. She had a small farm with a greenhouse just behind her house where she grew the plants that she sold in her shop.

She also had a few cows and other non magical animals. She lived a self-sufficient life and she was happy but sometimes, she would feel a little alone. She was thankful for her plants and animals but she also missed her friends.

She would sometimes have Poppy and Imelda visiting her every month or so.

She also kept in touch with Ominis though she hadn't heard from him for over a year. She unexpectedly kept the most in touch with Garreth who lived not too far from her little farm.

But mostly, she yearned to hear from Sebastian who had disappeared into the void after their final days in Hogwarts. She felt a pang of anger whenever she thought of him. Sebastian, the boy she was desperately in love with.

The boy who confessed to her of his undying love. The boy, who promised to be by her side forever. But here she was living by herself. She sometimes smiled when she thought of him, their shenanigans, their late night misadventures, even of the boring classes they sat in.

Everything about him seemed so surreal, he now seemed like a faraway dream. She missed him dearly but she wanted answers from him about his empty promises. Why did he stop? Stop talking to her? Stop writing to her? Stop being her friend?

Sometimes, when her heart ached enough for him, she would lightly shed a tear looking through the things they shared and exchanged with each other when they were younger and optimistic.

A piece of parchment which Sebastian passed her during transfiguration asking her to accompany him to the three broomsticks. A small sneakoscope that he gave her that no longer worked. His old advanced book of potions that they shared with number of scribbles all over.

A red rose now completely dry he gave her the first time they spent valentines day together in their 5th year. Her broken spectacles that he accidentally sat on when they were in their 6th year. A silver opal shaped pendant with a necklace with an emerald stone he gave her for last birthday.

She would sift through these mementos among many other letters, scraps and parchments, Sebastian and her shared. Sometimes, she would smile and reminisce fondly of the best days of her life alongside the best people she met and sometimes, she would break down crying into the early hours of the morning.

Her heart longed for him, sometimes she would try to forget about him but would fail miserably. How could she forget those mischievous but loving eyes, his crooked yet smug smile, and his hair, his messy and soft hair.

She missed holding onto his hair as he would bury himself in her neck or elsewhere. Those thoughts would make her smile and a blush would more often than not creep up on her cheeks.

-

One fine evening, she was tending her greenhouse, when she heard the bell of her shop ring. It was a slow day and it was almost closing time, she slowly walked back to her shop. There was a pretty young woman looking at some of the pansies.

"Hello, may I help you?" She asked the customer.

"Oh hello, I was just admiring your flowers here. They're beautiful." She said cheerfully. A smile crept up her face.

"Thank you." She smiled.

"I was wondering if you have any dittany seeds?" She asked.

"Oh yes. I keep seeds in the back. I'll just get them for you. How many shall I get you?" She asked as she headed to the back.

"Oh, just 2 packets." She heard her.

"Sebastian, come take a look at these beauties." She heard the customer say. Her heart skipped a beat. But Sebastian was a common name, it must be someone else. She found the seeds and went back to the front to hand them to her.

She was now standing with a man, tall, messy brown hair, his hands in his pockets. She only saw the side of him and she knew it was him. She felt a lump in her throat.

She coughed to announce that she had returned.

"Can we take these pot of pansies too?" She said and the both turned around.

It was Sebastian. Sebastian Sallow, in the flesh. Her eyes couldn't believe what she was seeing. It was him.

"Ofcourse!" She said in a falsely cheery voice trying not to get a glance of Sebastian. "That'll be 15 sickles and 10 knuts." She mumbled looking down at her feet.

"Hi, there!" Sebastian said all of a sudden. It was him in the flesh, he sounded the same as he did in school. His voice, his damned voice, that oozed confidence with a touch of smugness. Damn, she loved to hear his voice.

She ignored him still looking at her feet. She felt she would cry if she even looked at him.

"Oh do you know each other?" The girl asked looking at Sebastian.

"Yes, we went to Hogwarts together." He said calmly.

Went to Hogwarts together. His words stung her, she couldn't believe her ears. She couldn't believe he thought so little of her, a new pang of emotion struck her, the one of anger and confidence.

"Oh yeah! Sallow right? Sebastian Sallow." She said smiling, plastering a fake one quickly.

"She was a pretty good duellist back in the day." He smirked. She knew that smirk, it was the old him, his mischievous yet smug smile, the one that challenged her, the one that riled her up.

"Hah! Still am." She retorted back. The girl beside him looked up at Sebastian and back at her and smiled ear to ear.

"It was good meeting you. Always a pleasure to meet one of Sebastian's friends. We're going to be late Sebastian." She said tugging his arm as she led him out of the shop.

As soon as she heard them dissapparate, she felt tears roll down her cheeks. She stood by the counter as tear fell down on to the counter. She quickly wiped off her tears and proceeded to close her shop for the day.

She went back to her cows and tried to continue with the remainder of her day.

-

It was late at night and Garreth had come over for dinner. He seemed to be the only friend she had at the moment. She was thankful for his company, the few giggles and laughs they shared, she cherished.

"I am finally getting my potions book published!" He said joyfully.

"Merlin's beard Garreth! That is wonderful." She said pulling him into a hug.

"I cannot believe it." She said pulling away smiling at him.

"To be honest, me neither." He said sheepishly. Garreth had grown quite a bit after Hogwarts and he had kept his long curly hair, that helped him get the ladies, he said.

"To think of our Garreth, the Garreth who blew up every cauldron he touched." She laughed.

"You must blow up a few cauldrons, to finally blow people's minds." He said smugly.

"Not literally... I hope." She laughed.

"Yeah yeah." He played off her words.

"Oh, I'm going to be touring with my book release." He announced.

She felt her heart skip a beat when she heard him tell her of his latest announcement. Her frown unknowingly must've crept up to her face.

"I'll write to you every week." He said quickly grabbing her shoulders looking into her eyes before she could plaster a smile on her face.

"You can write to me whenever you have time Garreth." She assured him smiling back.

"I'm just so happy for you. I cannot wait to see you on the daily prophet." She said smiling.

"I promise I'll keep in touch. I know you miss me." He smirked.

"You wish Weasley." She smiled poking him playfully.

"I've got to get going. I'm leaving early in the morning." He continued.

"You're going tomorrow?" She asked surprised. He nodded.

"Well. Keep in touch Weasley." She said giving him another hug. She almost didn't want to let him go. And maybe he felt it too as he held her as tight as he could.

As they pulled away, a tear had crept out of her eye. He wiped it away with his thumb, but his hand rested on her cheek. The two looked at each other and he leaned ever so slightly forward and she did the same.

There was a loud knock on the door. This startled them.

"Who could that be?" She said looking at the time, it was almost midnight.

"Wait." Garreth told her and went to open the door.

It was "Sallow?" Garreth announced in utter shock.

"What are you doing here?" Garreth asked him.

"I might ask you the same thing Weasley." Sebastian replied, his voice was cold and indifferent when seeing Garreth even after so many years.

"I was just saying goodbye to my dear friend here. I'm leaving tomorrow for my book tour." He said with the same indifference.

"Safe travels Garreth." She said as she went to hug him again. He smiled and kissed the top of her head before he left.

"What's he doing here?" Sebastian asked.

"What are YOU doing here?" She asked back.

"I wanted to see you." He replied.

"Why?" She asked turning away from him.

"Why? Because I wanted to see you!" He said his voice a little louder.

"It's late Sallow. You can visit the shop when it's open but the shop is closed tomorrow. So you may return when it's open." She said turning away from him.

He stood there silent. "I came to visit you not the shop." He began.

"Well, it's much too late for a social visit. If it wasn't for Garreth, I would've been asleep already." She said walking away. Sebastian didn't move from where he was standing. She could feel his gaze following her around the room.

"Can we talk?" He practically begs.

"Depends. What about?" She asks, her back still facing him.

"About us." He begins.

"Get out." She says slamming her fist on the table next to her.

"I'm not doing this Sallow. You leave right this moment." She says as she walks to open the door.

"Since when have you started calling me Sallow?" He asked still not moving from his place.

"You need to go right now." She yanks his arm and directs him outside and immediately slams the door on his face. She slumps down on the floor her back leaning against the wall as tears automatically fall from her cheeks to the floor.

Her heart hurts, she feels like she can't breathe, there is a lump in her throat making it hard for her to swallow. She covers her face with her hands as she sobs into her hands.

"I hate you." She whimpers. Little did she know that Sebastian was still on the other side of the door. He had slumped down to the floor as well. He could hear her crying. He heard her saying she hated him but perhaps not as much as he hated himself. He supported his head with both his hand as his head leaned against the door.

He knew she might never forgive him. He knew that everything he promised her meant nothing. He left her all alone. He knew it would break her yet he did.

But one thing he knew was that he loved her. He loved her ever since their 4th year. The last years were rough for him as well. His downward spiral into learning and doing the dark arts, losing Anne, losing his uncle, it all dawned upon him. So he left, he ran away. He knew he was a coward. But he couldn't live with himself. He was ashamed of himself. He felt like...no, he knew he was a failure.

She had fallen asleep crying to herself on the floor and woke up from the pain on her back. She saw it was still dark outside. She suddenly remembered that she had forgotten to close the skylight of the shop. She opened her door and to her surprise, Sebastian fell on his back on her floor, his head hitting the cold stone floor.

He woke up with a start.

"Oww" he mumbled, rubbing the back of his head.

"Sebastian!" She exclaimed.

"What in Merlin's name?!" She said looking exasperated. He looked cold, she could see him slightly shivering. She felt a little joy to see him suffer but she was concerned too, it was starting to get colder at night.

He slowly got up and continued to rub his head and stood with a small pout.

"I see some things never change." She commented smirking slightly at his pout.

"You look like a lost puppy." She continued.

"What are you waiting for? Get in before you freeze to death." she said in a soft voice concerned. "Sallow." She added in a completely different voice. She directed him to sit on the couch and brought him some hot tea as she gave him a blanket.

She left him with the tea and blanket to go to the shop to close the skylight, and when she returned, she saw that Sebastian was hunched over at the corner, his back to her.

"What are you doing on the floor?" She said voice a little loud. Sebastian turned around with the box of their mementos, one hand holding the box, another the dried up rose he had given her.

She had completely forgotten to put the box back in its safe spot. But to be fair she wasn't exactly expecting Sebastian sallow himself to be rummaging through it.

He looked at her with pleading eyes before he walked up to her and hugged her. She completely stood still, her arms still at her side.

"I'm sorry." His shoulders slumped over her body and his arms wrapped around her. She felt like she was about to cry again but there were no tears. The two must've stood there for what seemed like hours before Sebastian pulled apart.

"I'm sorry." He whispered.

"I wish that meant anything Sebastian." She mumbled back.

"Please." He begged placing a hand on her face.

"You might as well slap me Sebastian. It wouldn't be as hurtful." She mumbled with a blank look on her face.

She gently removed his hand from her face.

"I thought I loved you. And I really did love you. But seeing you today made me realise that you already made that decision for us. You never think of anyone else except yourself, and I honestly didn't care about it as long as you were with me, but now, I just hope you find what you're looking for and I for sure know that, it's not me. You made sure of that too. I was ready to go with you. But you made your choice there too. You can't love anyone Sebastian Sallow. You only want people when they have something to give." She said walking away.

"I think it's best if you go now. And you can take that box with you. It's the last thing I can give you. My memories of you, that I've kept and cherished for so long. They've kept me up all night and sometimes helped me sleep. They're the best and the worst thing I've had and you can take them away too. Maybe after this, I won't have anything else left to give, and you can let me have my life back." She said monotonously as she held the door open waiting for him to leave. He stared at her begging with his eyes.

His eyes watered but she refused to look into them. He walked out of the door and she stood by it making sure he wouldn't stay. Sebastian pulled the box to his chest and walked out of her house and she watched as his silhouette fade into the night, hoping to never see him ever again.

Part 2

[dindjarinandlysakane]

The Sweetest Taste | Chapter 5 - A Chaperone

Din Djarin is happy on Nevarro. He has a home, a family, what more could he want? But when a woman turns up selling bread and cakes at his doorstep, how can he not fall in love? And how can he also stop her from getting hurt at the hands of her partner behind closed doors? Will the hero save the girl and get the girl? Warm and sweet fluff/romance/hurt/comfort fic.

Masterlist

Chapter 5

----

Din Djarin stood, arms folded over his beskar-armoured chest, leaning up against the silver tree beside him.

It was a warm and breezy day, and Din found himself back in the city of Nevarro. He had been checking in with Greef Karga on how things were going. If there was any more trouble, the Manadalorian wanted to know about it.

The pair, along with Grogu, had come out on the streets for a stoll, running into the new Marshal of the city - the former droid IG-11.

A small crowd had gathered around the Marshal, Karga and now Grogu, who seemed elated  to see his old droid friend back in action.

The Mandalorian, who hated large gatherings of people, was more than happy to stand on the sidelines and watch as Karga introduced folks to the newly painted droid. IG-11 was today looking particularly shiny, obviously having had a fresh polish and a paint job.

Din, gazing over, gave a weary grunt, rotating his stiff shoulder absent-mindedly.

For the past four days, Din and Grogu had been on Mandalore.

It had been a fleeting visit, more out of curiosity than anything else.

But it had been good to catch up with the progress Bo Katan and the Armorer had been making in getting the planet on its feet.

Din knew that it it would likely take several lifetimes to get Mandalore back to what it once was. But just the idea of having a place where Mandalorians could live and prosper made it all worthwhile.

But as nice as it was to see friends, or travelling through the stars on missions given to him by the New Republic, he now appreciated having a place of his own to call home.

Sleeping in his old Razorcrest had been one thing, with access to a bunk at least. But his N-1 Starfighter didn't have space to even move, let alone lie down. So coming back to a comfortable bed was something Din looked forward to these days.

His entire body ached from the time he had spent over the last few days sleeping awkwardly in a confined space, with Grogu on his lap.

“Are you jealous?” came a sudden familiar voice from Din’s side. Causing the Mandalorian to immediately turn his head… only to come face to face with Lysa Kane, stood there, shoulder to shoulder with him, staring out at the crowd ahead.

Din paused for a long second, eyeing her.

The blonde woman today had her golden hair thrown back over her shoulders, tied back by two thin braids. She wore a long, lilac tunic dress that fell to the floor, and slung over the crook of her elbow was a stiff woven basket.

Din was surprised to see her, but then again, why should he be? This was her city after all.

“Excuse me?” he retorted in a familiar manner.

But Lysa glanced up at him for the first time, quirking an eyebrow in his direction playfully.

“I said, are you jealous?” she said with a nod over towards IG-11, who was stood shaking hands with a small child.

But when Din remained silent, she gave a huge roll of her eyes.

“Of the Marshal’s shiny new armour. I’d say it’s on a par with yours…” she tilted her head staring over at the droid. “...or maybe his just takes the edge.”

At her words, Din let out a snort.

“Mine is beskar armour. His is just metal alloy and durasteel, there's absolutely no competition,” quipped Din.

He was enjoying the recent repertoire between them.

But Lysa just gave a smirk, bumping her hip with his.

“Hmmm you keep telling yourself that, Mandalorian.”

Din couldn't help but chuckle behind his helmet, looking back over to the crowd, ignoring the feeling of his heart beginning to beat a drumbeat inside his ribcage.

“So…you want to walk me to the market?” said Lysa suddenly, giving him another playful nudge, and gesturing with the basket in her hand.

Din looked her way, blinking for a moment. “Why? Do you need a chaperone?”

Lysa gave a smirk. “No. But I do want the company,” she said turning and pacing slowly away, before looking back at him over her shoulder. “Come on, Din Djarin.”

At this Din couldn't help but grin, letting out a faux-tired sigh.

“Fine,” he muttered, as he followed her a few steps.

Glancing over to where Karga was stood beside Grogu and IG-11, the Mandalorian gave a shout.

“You mind keeping an eye on the kid for me?”

Karga immediately looked his way, before his eyes travelled to Lysa, a knowing smile teasing at his lips.

“No problem. He’s enjoying himself. You should do the same,” said the now-High Magistrate in a suggestive tone, causing Din to roll his eyes.

He let out a huff, before falling into step with Lysa, who peered back to Grogu and the others.

“So…” she said gently after they had turned the corner. “Can I ask.....Grogu is your…..son?”

“Yes,” said Din matter-of-factly. “I adopted him recently. But it feels like he’s been in my life for a long time.”

Lysa offered him a smile.

“You’re sweet with him,” she said in a gentle tone. “And I did wonder what the deal was…”

Din looked her way, frowning. “What do you mean?”

But Lysa gave a small shrug, avoiding his eye.

“Well…you know you don't exactly look alike, and I didnt want to offend…” she said quickly with a shake of her head, the tops of her cheeks turning pink. “Interspecies procreation isn't a dirty word anymore…and so I didn't want to presume…”

She trailed off, her cheeks now completely red.

“He’s adopted,” reiterated Din. “There was no procreation involved…well not by me anyway.”

The Mandalorian quickly cleared his throat. Right now he was glad he had his helmet on. because it wasn't only Lysa’s face that had turned red.

“I mean…” Din gave another cough, before giving up all hope of rescuing this conversation.

The pair were silent a few long moments, as they walked down the cobbled winding street together, side by side.

“So you said you were born in Naboo,” Din said conversationally, his heart thudding in his chest. What the hell was wrong him today? “That where you grew up too?”

Lysa gave a slow nod.

“Yes, it was a great place to live,” she said, her voice sounding distant.

“So why did you decide to leave?” asked Din carefully.

He noticed the blonde woman worrying at her lips for a moment before answering.

“My parents died when I was seventeen,” she said in a gentle voice. “There was a fire…in their shop and….well, I didn’t have anything to stick around for after that. So I hitched a lift and went from planet to planet for a while….and then a year ago we arrived here on Nevarro.”

Din stared at her for a long moment, knowing that there was a lot she had missed out of her life story. Lots that she obviously hadn't wanted to detail to Din.

Lysa seemed just a handful of years younger than him and yet that didn't mean she had lived any less of a life than he had.

Din was quiet for a moment pondering whether he should ask his next question. But before he knew it, the words were already spilling from his lips.

“This where you met Crix? Nevarro?”

Din hoped that it was a fairly new relationship and one that would end perhaps as quickly as it had begun.

But to his annoyance Lysa shook her head.

“No,” she said, avoiding Din’s eye, her voice full of something the Manadalorian couldnt quite put his finger on. “We’ve been together about…um….probably about four, maybe five years. Me and him…well we travelled around for a bit and then….well one day Crix decided that we should move here.”

“And you didn't want to?” asked Din, his voice sounding low through his modulator.

Lysa gave a slight shrug.

“Well when we moved here it was a ruin,” she said staring around her. “It wasn't like this.”

The street around them was bustling with people of all shape, size and creed. The buildings in this central part of the city, mostly re-built, standing proud all around them.

Din noticed Lysa stare at the ground for a long few seconds before speaking again.

“Crix was a different guy when I met him,” she explained, sounding as though she had to explain. But her face looked pained and sad. An expression Din had not seen on her before, the woman who, to him, forever exuded warmth and light. “He was so funny and just a great guy to be around. But…it’s like…….travelling around…it’s like places like this have made him bitter, like he realised that not everything in this star system revolves around men like him anymore. The last two planets we stayed on for a while…he struggled to find work. And then to keep a job. He started gambling, falling in with the wrong crowd…”

But Lysa stopped suddenly, almost visibly shaking herself. She blinked a couple of times before reddening again. “...anyway it doesn't matter.” She gave a small almost-masked sigh as they approached the Bazaar, before pursing her lips and carrying on as if her small outburst had never happened. “Ok first thing on my list are warted limes.”

And with that she walked towards a large stall full of fruit, as Din stopped where he was.

He stared after her for a very long moment, watching as she fixed a bright smile onto her face. A smile that had been completely absent just a moment or so ago.

And so, with his eyes on nothing but her, Din followed Lysa over to the stall. The fresh fruit offerings, not the only thing drawing him there.

-------------------------------

[causenessus]

🫧, 🧦, and 🌙!!

also, use this as an opportunity to gush abt a headcanon you have bc i want to know more abt you guys !!

MOLLY I LOVE YOU YOU'RE A LITERAL ANGEL THANK YOU FOR GIVING ME THIS FREEDOM <333 I WOULD LOVE TO HEAR ANY HCS ABOUT U AND AKAASHI AS WELL!!!

ask games (1 + 2 <3)

🫧- you're making a beaded bracelet for your f/o! what kind of beads do you use?

OKAY FUNNY STORY BUT I ACTUALLY DID MAKE EYE COLOR BRACELETS FOR SUNA AND ME <33 i'll probably rb this with a picture teehee <3 SO!!! i would totally use probably lots of wooden and metal beads that are definitely that are in a monochrome type color pallete. like probably lots of white beads (you'll see in the pic lmao), spacers are silver bc i'm a silver jewelry person <3 and wooden bc i love wood! and my eyes are brown so ig i'm just making him an eye color bracelet as well <33

🧦- which item from your wardrobe would you give to your f/o?

I'D GIVE HIM ANYTHING luckily all my clothes are like oversized so he probably lowkey borrows from it anyway. he sometimes steals my necklaces or most of the time will steal one of my rings and then wear it on a chain around his neck <3 if i'm not wearing it though i'd give him my old hs theatre hoodie or he can have my old senior pants LMAO they're like black dickies cargo pants that are WAY too big for me i looked like i had a boner (imaginary dick. sorry for the tmi but this is so funny to me) bc i'd have to wear a belt but yk like all the extra pant space just kind of sticks out awkwardly??? IDK HOW TO EXPLAIN IT SORRY but yeah he's walking around in black dickies pants that literally have handprints all over them on his ass :)

🌙- what is your f/o doing late at night when they can’t sleep?

answered here <3

extra headcanons

he washes my face for me sometimes. this is something i thought about last night which is what started this ALL but basically like i'll get home from work and i'm SO tired i just want to take off my makeup and fall into bed but he'll always follow me into the bathroom while i'm trying to clean up to keep me company and will say things like "but you'll feel sooo much better if you wash ur face rn instead of tomorrow morning" and he's right but i don't want to admit it </3 he'll end up resting his head on my shoulder and hugging me from behind whispering "i'll give u a kiss if u wash ur face rn :)" like he's not going to kiss me anyway but whatever ig. he'll help me put on a headband to keep my hair out of my face and either wash it for me or lets me if i'm up for it <3 then has to do my skincare bc that's one thing I'll refuse to do if he makes me wash my face (but then it ends up with me being like "no no. toner first. please use a cotton pad don't just slap it on my face. THEN moisturizer...") and then afterwards drags me to bed and he was right </3 i do feel better and usually pass out immediately, the last thing i feel being a kiss to the top of my head, wrapped in his arms <3

[alinasteelcrest]

🤥🍟🍁🎭 for all 3..? :)

For all THREE omg okay hold on let me try to remember anything about my own ocs

Thank you for the ask :D!

(OC Emoji Asks)

🤥 LYING - are they good liars? do they have tells to show they're lying?

Alina is... decent at it. She gets better after she starts hanging out with Ydris. King of making people manipulative just like he is ig 😭

Shoji's good at lying, but he doesn't do it often because he would rather be ""brutally honest"" (aka an asshole). He's capable of straight-facing his way through basically anything.

Wynn SUCKS AT LYING. He gets shifty and won't make eye contact and it's harder to find the right words. That kid will incriminate himself halfway through

He's just little, though, so honestly it's good that he's a bad liar LMAO

🍟 FRIES - do they order food often? or they prefer to cook their own food?

Well two of them are horses so they kind of eat whatever's offered to them DKNSBSAHJH

Alina really likes cooking, she mostly prefers to just make things for herself, but she's also definitely not against having something delivered if she's had a long day or really particularly wants something.

Wynn is a garbage disposal he is NOT picky, but he does get excited when offered like,,, part of whatever Alina gets for herself, because it doesn't happen suuuuper often so it's more fun.

🍁 MAPLE LEAF - what is their favourite season? why?

Alina is so winter-coded omg, silver everything, sweaters and scarves, hot drinks and comfy blankets, etc etc. Even her guardian horse is white and blue!! Summer is a CLOSE second though, she likes the beach and her freckles show and her birthday is in August...

Shoji's a bit more complicated to me because like,,, his birthday is in February and he does like getting to hang out in front of the fire when it's cold, but Alina's birthday is in summer + he really loves the sun. But then there's also? his wife and kid are both spring-enjoyers which means he's legally obligated to also like spring. If I Absolutely Had To Pick, I'd say summer. 🤔

Wynn likes fall! The colours change and there's all sorts of fun seasonal treats and he looooves Halloween. He managed to convince Alina to take him to Galloper's Keep last October and had the time of his life. (GIRL WHAT!! GET HIM OUT OF THERE)

🎭 MASKS - do they act differently around certain people? what's different between the way they act around friends, family, strangers, etc.?

Alina's polite with strangers and polite in that... sly "I'm-better-than-you" way with people she doesn't like. She's slightly distant with her parents (It's been... a while since they saw each other irl :( She just isn't willing to leave Jorvik for extended periods of time), so I would almost put them in the 'strangers' category with how she acts around her family? Not to mention she grew up in an environment that taught her not to reveal how she's feeling.

With her friends, it depends on how close they are. She's kind of. anxious. a lot. So unless they're really close, she might be a little reserved. If she's close friends, besties, ride-or-die with someone, then she'll come out of her shell. With her horses she's her truest self, willing to be silly and (god forbid) even willing to show when she's upset about something.

Shoji is a mean bitch to Everyone. He was even like that towards Alina when they first met. He will continue to be like that to everyone that isn't currently Living In His House(/Stable).

As for those he lives with... Well. It's like a completely different person. No harsh words or sarcasm or insults. He's someone for Alina to confide in and get advice from, he's the Best Dad Ever (or he's doing his best), he straight-up down bad for Thunder even after all this time being horsie-married. Dare I say it... he's a bit of a sweetheart.

Wynn's just cheerful and excited to meet basically everyone. He'll go up to strangers and try to be their best friend (even if they can't understand him). If there's more than one stranger at a time, though, then he gets shy.

[here2bbtstrash]

Can you write a drabble with bestfriend yoongi finding out you have a spit kink and makes fun of you but turns out he’s into it too and … yea 🤭

anon i gotta give you props for so patiently playing the waiting game. i literally saved this req from the last time you sent it bc i really WANTED to do it but it took a lotta brain power 😂 had to have a whole brainstorming session

also shoutout to seokjin for making this relevant!!

still accepting freaky requests, lmk what ya wanna see!!

pairing: yoongi x reader word count: 1.1k contains: spit kink, erotic watermelon eating 🥴, i promise there's no actual food play tho, friends to lovers ig, tiny bit of praise kink

“Eat.” Yoongi sets the plate of fruit and bowl down in front of you, and panic instantly rockets through your nervous system.

“I-I don’t like watermelon,” you say before immediately realizing that isn’t going to solve your problem. The issue isn’t whether or not you eat it.

“That’s not a thing,” Yoongi says decisively as he squints at you. He can clearly tell you are acting strange. “Everyone likes watermelon.”

“Are you questioning my taste in fruit?”

Your best friend rolls his eyes. “Well, I have about ten pounds of it, courtesy of Jin. Help me eat it or don’t. I don’t give a shit.” The silver bracelets on his wrist jangle as he reaches for a slice. You make a mental note to kill Seokjin the next time you see him.

Frozen in place, you can only watch helplessly as Yoongi takes a bite, pink fruit melting quickly under lips and teeth. His jaw works for a second, and then he brings the bowl up to his chin and spits three seeds out in quick succession.

Fuck.

“This one does have a lot of seeds,” he mutters mostly to himself, frowning into the bowl.

Of fucking course it does.

He suddenly seems to become aware of your eyes on him, because he looks up at you, brows furrowing together with agitation. “What is this, a fucking mukbang? Will you put on the damn show?”

Right. Extraordinary Attorney Woo. He specifically invited you over to get caught up on the latest episodes. Not to stare at him while he eats fruit.

You fumble for the remote, trying not to look as flustered as you feel, and clearly fail, because you can hear Yoongi laughing around another mouthful. “What the fuck is wrong with you today?”

“Leave me alone.”

You manage to divert enough brain cells from thinking about your best friend’s mouth to remember how to pull up Netflix.

The show starts, and you sink back against the couch, extremely grateful for the distraction.

Except it doesn’t work. You are unfortunately laser-focused on Yoongi as he reaches for another slice, and the first bite is accompanied with a gratuitous sucking sound as he attempts to keep the juice in his mouth.

He’s not quite successful, and when a few drops roll down his chin, you’re hit with the nearly overwhelming desire to lick them up.

“You can literally have some if you want it,” he talks with his mouth full, wiping the back of his hand over his neck. You know he’s talking about the watermelon, but there’s already a steady pulse between your legs at the other opportunity that sentence offers you.

He picks up the bowl again to spit into it, having to try a few times to get all the seeds out of his mouth, and you’re not going to make it. Especially not when he reaches for a third slice and makes a low hum of appreciation at the first bite. The noise thrums through you, so intense you swear you’re vibrating.

Yoongi’s eyes catch yours, and when he sees you’re still watching him intently, he’s clearly had enough.

“Alright,” he says mid-chew, picking up the remote to pause the show and then slamming it back down. “If I’m that fucking gross, you can just go home.”

“Not gross,” you correct quickly, before you can decide whether or not it’s a good idea.

Yoongi looks entirely confused, but he must finally be able to read the expression on your face, see the way you go slack-jawed when he pulls the bowl up to his mouth and spits into it a third time.

“So, what, you have a watermelon fetish?”

“Not watermelon,” you say softly.

His gaze jumps from your face to the bowl and back, and he seems to finally put the pieces together.

“Oh my god, are you one of those ‘spit in my mouth, daddy’ girls?”

An embarrassed heat shoots up your neck, and you can only nod.

“That’s fucking freaky,” he laughs, enough that his shoulders shake. “I can’t believe I never knew this.” Your brain thinks to tell him that you don’t appreciate being kink-shamed, and then his next words make you forget how to string a sentence together, or even what words are.

“Open your mouth, then.”

Without hesitation, you do as you're told. It’s impossible to miss the smug expression on Yoongi’s face as he gets to his knees and moves towards you.

“So eager. You want it that bad?”

Your tongue lolls out as you nod, and you inhale sharply when his hand comes to grab your face and hold it in place, silver rings digging into your skin in a way that sends sparks through you.

“Then I want you to take it like a good girl, okay?”

You couldn’t suppress the strangled noise that sentence works out of your open mouth if you tried. Yoongi’s eyes glint– he’s clearly enjoying this power. The strong muscle of his jaw flexes, and then he leans down to spit into your waiting mouth. It’s too damn hot for you to stop the desperate whine that follows.

“Want more?”

When you whimper again, Yoongi seems satisfied with the response. He sits up a little taller on his knees, and you can see his tongue moving behind closed lips. There’s more saliva this time– a lot more; he lets it fall slowly out of his mouth, off of his tongue, feeding it to you one drop at a time, so slow it’s nearly torture. You squeeze your eyes shut and your thighs together at the same time, your hips just barely starting to rock, in desperate need of friction.

You hear and feel it as he spits a third time, fast and aggressive now, so fucking dirty that a shiver rips up your spine.

Yoongi’s fingers brush over your jaw, and you take the encouragement to close your mouth and swallow.

“Good girl.” His voice is dark with lust, and you instantly need more. Eyes still closed, you drop your mouth open again in a silent request.

It takes you by surprise when his tongue meets yours instead, and you can’t help but outright moan as he licks into your mouth, tasting sweet and heady. You find his body under your hands, fingers moving to tangle in the long dark hair at the nape of his neck, enjoying the low groan you pull out of him when you tug gently, the way his lips close around your tongue and suck.

His hands are already fumbling for the button of your jeans, and you’re both breathless when he breaks the kiss momentarily to better see what he’s doing.

“Fuck, how about I spit on your clit next?”

You don’t expect to survive the evening.

[lovely-lamy]

Hello, i am new in your blog

Can i request malleus and lilia with a sick fem reader who really hard to talk to? (Like when she's sick she doesn't want to drink her medicine because of the bitter taste and they had to forced her to drink the medicine)

Im sorry if its against some rules, you can ignore it if you wanted, and thank you!

Last time I've checked, your request does not break any rules of mine,, so you do not have to say sorry nor scrunch your pretty face in worry!

Lilia and Malleus with a sick Fem!Reader

TW: Sick ig??, Fem!Reader

|A/N: Idk if this is a romantic or platonic ask so feel free to think of it whatever u want|

Lilia Vanrouge

He's used to this

Silver also used to be stubborn whenever he is sick and kept on his training

Lilia will treat you like a child, lover or not

He'll prepare everything you need in a heartbeat

He sees you trying to sneak away from him, he'd be popping out of nowhere with a strict pout "Where do you think your going young lady?" and instantly take you back to your room

When it's time to take your meds, it'd be a hard game of dodge, and Lilia will make sure you drink it no matter what. You'd eventually give up

"See? Wasn't so hard now was it?"

When Lilia prepares soup for you, it'd be an even harder game of dodge (and you'd definetly not want to give up). Thankfully, Silver, Sebek, and Malleus are always there to make sure and stop him

He would always offer to help you get ready for bed, even if you tell him not to

He'd get you into your night dress/night clothes and tuck you to bed while humming a lullaby as if you are a baby

He definetly checks your temperature every now and then, and has an alarm to when you have to take the medications

Once you have recovered, everything is back to normal and thank god you don't have to take those disgusting medications again

Lilia would keep an eye on you more often and he makes sure he has medicines lying around

"Hah, you sure are a tough girl *chuckle*" he says as he watch you with your mates from afar while dangling upside down

Malleus Draconia

When he notices your weird behaviour and the rising temperature of your body, just like Lilia, he already knows what's going on and he prepares everything in a heartbeat...except it's literal this time

He doesn't want his Child of a Man die off of sickness, he knows how fragile humans can be

Whenever he catch you trying to run away and go to your class, he would pick you up and promise you he'll just give you notes from Sebek so you won't fall behind

If it's because of your friends he would not allow you, not in this condition, but he would make up for it by taking you on night walks

He would ask Lilia for help at times, like when it's time for you to take your meds

The sight of you and Lilia dodging around amuses and concerns him at the same time. You might accidentally hurt your neck if you keep on turning away like that

He does feel bad when you have to take them, seeing how you're so persistent tells how bitter it is, but it was needed

Keeps you 10 ft away of Lilia's "soup"

He reads you bedtime stories at night and you can't convince me otherwise

Cuddles too, oh, don't worry about him getting sick, his body can handle even the most severe of conditions

I feel like he would pamper you like a child but he didn't mean to

Once you've recovered he would double check to make sure you are ready enough to handle the outside

It's cute honestly

He would keep a close eye on you like an overprotective dad

[lume-nescence]

Unplanned Confrontation

Yelan x Gn!Reader

summary: rumor has it that treasure hoarders scour the lands to steal goods from innocent citizens and despite that you wanted to search for some sweet delicacies. but something happened out of the ordinary during the ordeal.

an: ahem don’t mind me cleaning out my drafts so expect some sort of frequent uploads (and posts of some various fandoms) but anyways, i finally wrote for yelan like i mentioned weeks ago!!! and the tension of the audio,, i wasn’t sure how to write this midway through because my brain was buffering so i just powered through it again as per usual. (this is based off of her demo and i had to pull up a wiki to describe her clothing a little, sorry if it’s a little scuffed i was half asleep LFMSIJF)

pronouns: you/your

song inspo: i was never there by the weeknd (it’s just the beat that drove me to write this)

genre: oneshot, fluff

cw: written when i was on my last brain cell, maybe ooc yelan, you’re just a lil silly ig, not proofread

“You should keep a lookout for those treasure hoarders. They’re known for stealing people’s goods, and are quite dangerous to come across in damp weather conditions.”

“I know, I know, I’ve dealt with my fair share of treasure hoarders before. And I’ll keep my eyes peeled for them.” You’re currently packing up your supplies for your expedition to look for fruits until a merchant comes to give you a heads up for what’s to come during your journey. By how strained his voice is, you can tell he’d stumbled upon a treasure hoarder before.

“Just, please be careful.” He pleaded.

You pulled up your backpack and adjusted it a bit, then gave the merchant a little nod and wave before walking away. It was oddly silent in Liyue, due to the light rain of course.

Nobody decided to go out in weather like this for it’s also accompanied by some fog, making it harder to see your surroundings. You find it understandable but you wanted to gather fruits to eat. No matter how intense the weather conditions are you needed to find something to eat because you are low on sustenance. And something small as a fruit should be good enough to satisfy your palate.

As you’re striding past the few buildings a figure materialized to the side, hiding from view. They have their arms crossed and a smug smile plastered on their face.

“Perfect.”

Walking through the outskirts of Liyue you’re looking around to find any fruits to eat since you’re in the mood for sweet things. The sweet and plump fruit digging into your teeth, the freshness, how ripe it is. Your mouth almost watered just thinking about it. As you were daydreaming about delicious fruits your eyes came across a Sunsettia tree.

“Looks like my dreams came true.” You said to yourself. You ran up to the tree to grab a Sunsettia. You practically drooled at the fruit because of how beautiful it looked.

As you were about to take a bite out of it you heard bantering and sounds of a struggle in the background. You quickly hid behind the tree with the fruit still in your hand and cautiously looked over to see what the commotion was about.

You see a woman with sapphire blue short-length hair with a white-furred coat hung around her shoulders resembling a cape. Her attire is a dark bodysuit decorated with silver details padded all over with a blue overcoat to top it off. Having several accessories accompanied with the attire as well. You thought she has a unique fashion sense so you made a mental note of it.

She’s holding a treasure holder in a chokehold with what looks to be a blue string attached to her glowing blue bracelet. You’ve never seen her around, but seeing the way she dealt with that filthy treasure hoarder you think she’s nothing bad.

“Someone revealed my plans to you in advance,” She grimaced with a cold glare striking right through him. “And you didn’t think to run?” She released her grip letting the man fall harshly to the damp ground.

Never mind. You’re feeling mixed emotions. You’ve never seen someone so intimidating, you’re glad you weren’t in his shoes. Otherwise.. Before you could think of anything else you’ve noticed another hoarder near you, attempting to snipe the woman.

When you were about to stop him the woman seemed to notice before you did. Because she used the hoarder she just put in a chokehold as a shield to deflect the arrow and threw him in another direction.

The man, who attempted the misconduct, chose to flee from the scene before anything happens to him. Now you’re just in awe. She handled this swiftly without a sweat. It’s like she has a sixth sense.

The woman dusted herself off and did a hair flip. She looked in your direction, now locking eye contact with you. You, not expecting the contact, dropped your fruit and tried to act as normal as possible.

“Oh! I’m sorry for uh, standing here. I promise I’ll forget whatever I saw and I’ll be on my way.” You turned around, about to walk away. But was caught in that same blue string you’ve seen. Forcing you to stay right where you are. What’s different about it was that it’s attached to your wrist instead. You slowly turned around to see that same woman. Walking up to you in a leisurely manner.

“Now, I’m well aware that you’ve been here all this time. To gather some fruits, is that correct?” She questioned.

“Uhh yes! Yes, I was trying to find some fruits to eat.” You replied.

“In this weather?“ She chuckled. “You could catch a cold.”

You flinched. “Well, I had a reason to go out here. I was low on food and all and most of the stores back at Liyue are closed and—“

As you were rambling away the woman’s eyes went towards your dropped sunsettia. She released your grip and went to pick it up. She turned to you and reached her hand out to you with your fruit. Her light emerald-green eyes, again locking with your own.

“Hm.. How about we make a deal. I’ll let you go, with your little fruit. And I’ll continue to handle my business. We’ll pretend this occurrence never happened.”

You perked up. “Okay, deal.” She handed you your fruit and gave you a small smile. “Wait- what’s your!-“

Before you could finish your sentence she walked away, dissipating from your view. “name..” You looked down at your fruit, seeing your reflection of it due to the rain. ‘She seems secretive, but at least she’s nice. I’m not going to question further though.’ You thought to yourself. You turned around walking the other direction, with this lingering thought in your head saying: ‘but that’s something you don’t see every day.’

[helloprettybb]

seven rings

i actually have a semi-cute draco fic in my brain, but it’s going to take a while for it to be written so here’s some more smut. i don’t want a boyfriend because they’re overrated, but i would sacrifice my soul for a modern draco. also, idk if i need to state this, but my draco’s going to be “nicer” and not act very much like canon draco. i have a lot of thoughts about how draco and other characters are treated in the book and i would feel bad for not staying canon but also jk sucks so i have no remorse for completely changing everything. (cursed child doesn’t exist). but ahhhh i’m such a slut for draco atm.

description: you’re a sucker for draco and his expensive jewelry. 

warnings: cursing, smut obv, choking, size kinkish, fingering, lotttts of kinks, pretty fucking filthy actually, cum play ig, it’s just a lot

word count: 1.8k

You watch as Draco types away on his laptop. He’s working on something for who knows what class. You know you should feel bad about not listening to him, especially since he just told you a couple minutes ago, but you don’t because ever since he’s entered your apartment, your attention has been on his hands. More specifically, the seven dark rings that decorate his slender fingers. 

You watch as the rings clink lightly together as he types. Mesmerized by his fingers briskly gliding across the keyboard, you sit and watch as he works. He stops and fiddles with the silver Versace ring on his left middle finger. You can’t help but imagine where else those fingers could go. Images of Draco wrapping his hand around your throat and leaving indentions on your skin cloud your mind. Shortly after, you start to imagine him grabbing your hips and sinking his fingers in your- 

“Huh?” you ask. Draco said something, but your mind was so fuzzy with lust that you didn’t hear the words.

“I asked what you wanted to eat for dinner,” Draco replies calmly, now looking at you. 

“Oh, whatever you want.” you reply meekly. He furrows his brows like he’s observing you. 

“Are you okay, love?” his voice dropping a little, making your heart pound in your chest. He has to know the effect he has on you.

“Yeah, just feeling a bit peaky.” you lie. Draco moves his chair closer to you. He’s so close that you can make out every detail of his perfect face. He puts his hand under your chin in a loving way but his darkening eyes tell a different story.

“Is my princess lying to me?” he asks as if he knows the answer but wants to hear it from you.

“No,” you lie again. He raises an unimpressed brow and you change your answer, “Yes.” He smiles when you tell the truth.

“Will you please tell me what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” he asks sweetly. You want to lower your head and avert your eyes but his hand keeps your head tilted up.

“Jus’ thinking about your fingers.” you say quietly.

“My fingers? Where do you want them, princess?” he prompts, moving to the end of the chair and leaning closer to you.

“Around my throat,” you breathe out adding, “Please” to be polite.

“Well, since you asked so nicely.” Draco says before slowly sliding his hand from below your chin to around your neck. He rests them there, not squeezing yet. With his other hand, he moves to the back of your head and pulls you into a kiss. It’s hot and passionate, all your sexual frustration released. Draco can feel your neediness and decides to help you out by giving your neck a gentle squeeze. You immediately gasp at the feeling. 

Moving into his lap to get closer, you slowly grind down on his hips as he whispers swears between heated kisses. Draco tightens his grip around your throat and right when you feel the airy feeling in your brain, he lets go. He’s known about your love for his hand around your throat for a while. Draco knows just how long to squeeze to give you that perfect euphoria. 

You whine when he removes his hand from your neck. “I know, princess. Let’s move this to the bed, eh?” You nod and Draco moves his hands to below your ass. You wrap your legs around him as he lifts you up and carries you to the bed. He sets you down gently and moves to straddle your hips, trapping you beneath him. You love how small you feel compared to him and you think he loves it, too. He kisses up and down your neck, biting and sucking at your most sensitive spots. One of your hands plays with his hair while the other grabs his shoulder. 

Craving some friction, you start to move your hips against his. Draco separates from the crook of your neck. His silver chain dangling above you, he murmurs, “Patience, love.”

“Please, Draco,” you beg, “I need you.” He smiles at your pleas and moves enough to let you take your shirt off and unhook your bra. The moment he catches sight of your tits, he starts kissing your chest until his mouth connects to your right nipple. He uses his left hand to massage your left breast and you moan loudly. It feels amazing, but you feel like you’ll explode if he doesn’t fuck you anytime soon, so you tug at the hem of his shirt. 

He gets the message and disconnects so he can take his shirt off. You don’t hide your staring as he continues to undress. Draco smirks as you watch him unbuckle his belt and remove his trousers. You take off your skirt at the same time, leaving you only in your panties. You almost start drooling when you watch Draco remove his underwear. His dick hits his stomach and you want to have a taste. 

He sees your desperation and says, “Next time, princess. Wanna cum in that pretty little pussy.” Even though he’s about as eager as you, he’s still going to use his fingers first.

He starts to slide one of his rings off and you blurt, “No,” he turns and looks at you. Biting your lip, embarrassed by your quick outburst, you look away. Draco moves so that he’s hovering above you.

“Do you want me to keep the rings on?” he asks. You nod and he shakes his head. “Use your words, baby.”

“Please, Draco. Can you finger me with your rings on?” you ask. His eyes blown with lust, Draco kisses you fiercely and you respond happily. You feel his hands move to play with your underwear. You lift your hips up, giving him silent permission to take your panties off. He slides them down and you pull your legs up so he can take them off completely. Discarding them somewhere in the room, he lightly trails his fingers up and down your thighs. You shiver at the sensitivity, the anticipation building inside of you. 

He moves his hands farther up until he’s right by your pussy. Gathering the wetness between your legs, he slowly pushes a finger in. You gasp at the cool feeling of the metal ring against his warm finger. He picks up the pace slightly, adding a finger once you’ve gotten used to the feeling. Draco’s fingered you multiple times, but this is the first time he’s kept his rings on. He knows it won’t be the last as he feels you start to clench around his two fingers.

“Is my princess ‘bout to cum?” he asks. His mouth has been leaving love marks all over your body. He sucks on your left nipple and you cum. You hear him mutter a couple praises as he rides you through your orgasm. 

After you come down from your high, he pulls his fingers out slowly. He puts his fingers in front of your face and you eagerly take them in your mouth. You suck his fingers and Draco feels like he could cum on your stomach from how hot you look. 

Once you finish cleaning his fingers, you release them from your mouth and you beg, “Fuck me, Draco. I need your cock in me.” Your lust-filled mind reduced you to a babbling mess. Draco strokes himself a couple of times before sliding into your pussy. You sigh as he sinks into you and he groans at the tight feeling around his dick. 

He starts at a deep, hard pace and you move your legs to wrap around his waist. Grabbing onto him, you feel him speed up. Your nails scratch up and down his back. His groans get louder as you mark him. One of Draco’s hands wraps around your throat as he pounds into you. Your moans are pornographic and you think back to your first year when you lived in the dorms and everybody could hear you and Draco. You’re sure everyone in the apartment complex can hear you, too but they’re the least of your concerns as Draco rails you into the mattress.

“Fuck, does my princess like it rough?” he asks above you. You’re probably a fucked-out mess, but you know he likes it, especially since he’s the one who ruined you. When you first started dating, he thought you’d be soft and innocent, but the minute he wrapped his hand around your neck, he knew he was wrong.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes...” you trail off, lost in pleasure as he hits the spot. The one that makes you keen against him and squeeze your eyes shut. He sees your reaction and starts abusing the spot, making you writhe underneath him. He slows down to a slow grind, driving you crazy at how deep he is in your pussy.

“Y-you’re so big,” you stutter out. He rewards your compliment with a firm squeeze around your throat. You sigh breathily when he releases. Draco removes his hand, replacing it with his lips as he sucks and nips. So overcome with pleasure, you start to squirm but are kept in place by Draco’s strong hands on your hips. You start clenching around Draco, signaling to him that you’re close.

“Cum for me, princess. Squeeze my cock,” he commands. At his order, you cum around him with a shout of his name. You feel like you’re floating in a cloud of bliss. Draco’s name is the only word on your mind as you babble incoherently. 

“Shit, your pussy’s so tight around me.” he groans. His hips stuttering before releasing inside you. He thrusts slowly as you milk his cock. Pulling out slowly, Draco leans down and watches your mixed cum drip out of your pussy and down your thighs. “So fucking hot.” Draco says and you give him a loopy smile. He gathers some cum that’s leaking out and slowly slides it back into your pussy.

“Too sensitive,” you mumble above him.

“I’m sorry, princess. Just don’t want it to go to waste.” he replies. Moving back up to you, Draco connects your lips in a sweet kiss, unlike the wild, passionate one that started this. His left arm moves underneath your legs and he picks you up bridal shower to the bathroom. “Let’s get cleaned up.”