#it is a privilege being allowed in places where they grew up meeting people they care about

[thoughts-reasons]

[cedlens]

My Experience

I have grown up as a white, appearing cis-gendered woman, straight passing, middle class human where I have been able to perceive myself and live in a society that caters to me. My only experience of having a minority cultural identity is being queer. In one of my other posts on this blog I discussed how seeing or meeting another queer identifying person in public makes me feel excited and like they are a safe harbor in a sea of heterosexuality. Based on my own experience and feelings related to being around other queer people or attending queer events, I can imagine how significant the Hmong Village and Hmong International Freedom Festival must be for the Hmong people of Minnesota. I know how thrilling it is to be at PRIDE or attend a drag show/brunch so learning about how the Hmong culture has been given space to celebrate their culture made me feel happy and proud of the Twin Cities. I mentioned feeling a sense of pride from growing up in the Twin Cities and moving there is a matter of weeks. But with that being said, I have never before gone out of my way to learn more about the Hmong culture. I've never gone to the Hmong Village or the Hmong International Freedom Festival even though it has been occurring for 40 years. My sense of pride and happiness at the celebration of the Hmong culture has stopped at the bare minimum. There was no action from me. And to be honest, I didn't even find the time to go to the Hmong Village for this project (although I would love to go once I live in the area). This barrier comes from my own cultural identity, and from my ignorance and ethnocentrism of not needing to learn more about a culture different from my own. These events have ben ongoing in the area that I grew up in and yet the most I knew about the Hmong community was that there was a young actor who was Hmong and from Minneapolis and was given a role in the film Gran Torino. The only other times when I have taken the time to learn about the Hmong culture was from classmates I worked on a research project with, this assignment, and when I worked with a client who was Hmong for reunification with his family. Not needing to learn about other cultures is a privilege that I have by coming from the dominant cultural group of the United States. Minority cultural groups experience the dominant culture in their everyday life and therefore acculturation is a process that is mostly felt by those from a minority cultural group.

By going out of my comfort zone and shopping for groceries at Hmong Grocery Store, I was taken out of the familiar and put in the unfamiliar. I felt out of place and like I did not belong, which is a feeling that due to my privilege, I am not used to. I wanted to rush though the grocery shopping experience to get away from the discomfort, which being able to walkaway from bot belonging is also a privileges that I was able to identify. I purposely took my time and stayed in the grocery store so that I had to sit with the discomfort until I had found all of my grocery list items. Another aspect of privilege that I thought about while doing this assignment was my privilege to have options and to be a picky eater as well as a vegetarian. As I was researching the Salvation Army Cure Hunger program, I looked at images of the different meals that they give out. Most of the pictures that I saw did not allow for the recipients of the food to have a lot of options for what they wanted to eat that day. They could not sit down and look at a menu with a variety of options and choose what they wanted to eat. I tend to not eat meat and I am not very good at eating and trying new things, therefore I love the option of having a menu with a lot of options. This is a privilege that I have and that I have taken for granted. The other day my partner and I were talking about my pickiness and fear of trying new foods and how that will impact our desires to travel the world. It didn't occur to me until I started doing this project that even that conversation was one of privilege. I have the privilege to worry about how my pickiness will impact world travel rather than how my pickiness would impact a situation that could happen much closer to home, food insecurity.

Overall this project forced me to expand my horizons and educate myself. It made me get out of my comfort zone and reflect on the comfort zone that I have been allowed to live in.

[lunaescribe]

A Biracial Reading of BlackBeard

It came to my shock-a lot of white fans of OFMD seem to have not caught up on the fact we're explicitly shown Edward Teach is a man of color from biracial origins in Our Flag Means Death. And that identity, goes so much into how his character is written and reacts to situations. I would argue Episode 4 and 5 are extremely deliberate in their showcasing of how his identity has informed his choices and the way he behaves around others. I want to highlight just a few moments, that stood out to me as a someone who is also biracial and light skinned-that I don't think some people have picked up have a deeper meaning.

From the get-go we're introduced to two sides of Blackbeard. Either as 'the terror of the seas' or an extremely clever-but at times irritatingly eccentric man. There's an element of duality, multiple faces, and most aptly code-switching to him the moment he is introduced. This  post really wonderfully goes into all the elements of performance and multiple identities Ed seems to juggle. Code switching is something many POC learn though-which is learning to behave one way with white people-and another with people of your own race-or other races, and so on.

We see from flashbacks Ed is biracial, with a white Father and Maori mother (the same biracial make up with genders swapped, of Taika himself). The framing of this shot above is so significant. He and his mother cowering from his white Father (patriarchy, colonialism against indigenous peoples like himself and his mother), and Ed is positioned slightly closer to his mother in the middle of them-another demonstration he is closer to his indigenous/POC side than his white side.

It's wildly significant the first murder he has to commit is his Father, very much showing that attempt to resist colonialism-as an institution and the side of him descended from it. And it leads to those fracturing identities.

Being biracial puts one in a position-you are not as excluded as darker skinned people of color who have very limited access to white spaces in this time period-but nor are you ever seen as belonging in those white spaces either. We know he grew up in proximity to whiteness hence having access to even see things like the red silk in the first place-but he never felt allowed to be part of it. It puts Edward in a place where he is both an outsider with other POC and in white spaces. So how do you cope with that? Do you soften yourself as much as possible to be non-threatening enough to pass in a white space? Or do you lean into white perceptions of your 'otherness' and play it so you can't be further mocked or excluded-you are choosing your own isolation and denying them the chance to do it to you. Hence Edward's need to make himself a larger than life fearful 'monster like' figure like the Kraken. However it’s the fact he is light skinned-that privilege that has probably lended himself to be able to become as successful he is-capable of earning respect from white pirates (Calico Jack, Izzy) and those of color (Ivan, Fang, and many on his crew). 

Which doesn't mean he enjoys that image at all. Becoming "The Kraken" began as an attempt to fight off white violence and has continued so long into life. Especially where we meet Edward in the series-he's grown weary of being so stereotyped as the 'beastly POC'.

When Edwards' shown this image-he gets especially upset. It's worth noting he's referred to as a "Devil" in the image too. And while yes it is a scene of him exhausted of the weight of reputation of "Blackbeard" it's also an image of a man of color being shown a racial stereotype of himself.

The fact he calls himself a 'vampire clown' and is frustrated at the amount of guns he's shown to carry-he's showing outrage over how he is stereotyped as an othered monstrous and hyper-violent caricature- something men of color are often forced to deal with. The fact he is a man of color-is probably what has allowed his reputation to become so fearsome. White people will automatically assume he is more violent because he is brown. All the more significant his bathtub confession that he personally dislikes the act of murder-and rarely personally ends a person's life. It's only because of this racial stereotype that rumor has been able to grow so large that he is killed HUNDREDs like Black Pete says in episode 2.

It makes all the more sense in the next episode he is very anxious for an attempt to join a white upper-class party. Especially after being called a "donkey" when attempting to learn about dinner party etiquette. Another example of white people excluding him due to his mixed race status.

The fact he is mixed is part of the reason he's even able to get into the room with the rich aristocrats rather than be confined to the servant's quarters-or immediately othered like Frenchie and Olu are ('you're so much better than my african servant!')

However it's extremely significant he only becomes popular and gains the attention of the white aristocrats (and he is the only person of color in the entire party) when he makes a joke about violence. From the get-go they're laughing and amused because he is again (Not realizing it this time) playing into their stereotype of him. A violent man of color-but presenting it in playful manner they feel un-threatened, much like white people watching minstrelsy shows in the 1800s-but still being so afraid of black men they had numerous laws to keep them separate.

And immediately, when Edward catches on they're not amused by him as a person-but by the caricature they see of him he's humiliated and leaves the party. It's an example of a lesson he learned long ago. He has to be either extremely non-threatening-a joker-if he wants to be tolerated in a white space, or he can be extremely threatening, play into their stereotype-and use their fear to avoid being further hurt. We see a touch of that in episode 4 when he dodges Izzy’s questions by being especially eccentric and difficult to read-making jokes and random statements than give sincere straightforward answers that can be mocked. It’s very deliberate he takes out his knife when answering Izzy’s threat/demand he needs to make choice-it’s a refusal to be openly intimate-and a reminder not to tread too closely. 

Edward's not stupid/or socially inept for not realizing he was being mocked from the start-he had really believed Stede's lessons and clothes had given him practice to blend into a white space. So the first thing he does when realizing he's being mocked is code switch back into violence-pull out his pistol. Stede talks him down-but it only works because he knows he's outnumbered in this scene. If he showcases any violence or anger as a man of color he would be jumped upon immediately and thrown in that ships holding cell.

It's all the more significant Stede is a white man too-when he leaves Edward in the end of episode 9. It's not just a break up, it's an example of Ed once again feeling not good enough-and excluded from the society Stede chose to return to. Part of the reason Ed fell in love with Stede is Stede was willing to see Ed as a whole person-he admired his anger AND sensitivity-and as a person who has also been an outsider due to his very overt queerness-Stede can form a kinship with Ed due to their mutual ostracizes from society.

While there's been multiple good readings about Izzy pining for Ed, and Izzy's frustration against Stede being driven because he is a rich person invading a working class space-as this post pointed out, Izzy is still a white man asking Ed to behave as that hyper-violent caricature that has been carved out for him. That is where he sees Edward's worth. The fact Izzy immediately begins mocking him for missing Stede-it reminds Ed so clearly, he can not drop his act around white people. Or he will be harassed, mocked, and threatened. 

Edward has to become the Kraken to survive in his mind. Hence why he uses a caricature image of himself as inspiration. To survive heartbreak, to survive the white people who would rip him apart if he isn’t threatening, to maintain control of his life. There’s a reason he has to kill Lucius-who he revealed too much of his heart to, vulnerability is not an option for him. When you’re biracial-the closer you are to whiteness, the more acutely you will be held up for failing at it. It is much easier for him to be guarded, threatening, and give into the perception of him-rather than have his heart broken over and over-told how he is not good enough-too sensitive, 

Which is why this Kraken image-Blackbeard-it’s all a tragedy. Edward knows-as much as being Blackbeard makes him safe-it makes him painfully lonely. And it’s an identity he has only fallen into because it was assigned to him-and because he feels convinced at the end of this season there is no space for him, as a queer man of color to have life full of love, softness, and emotional availability.

I certainly hope this reading is enlightening for folks who never read Edward or the show this way! I think it may cause people to rethink how they characterize Edward in their own writings or artwork, since the amount of people who seem to love leaning into an element of making him monstrous, well that’s exactly why he is suffering in the show. He doesn’t think a man of his identities has any other choice.  

[theotheroccassionalfanficwriter]

Cryo Archon!Childe fucking his wife on their wedding night and he gets her pregnant? and he's a little yandereish like the way you write him? your work is sublime

Thank you~! I had fun writing this since I never once entertained Childe being a cryo archon but the image of him having the signature tip dyed hair was simply o(*////▽////*)q

In Snezhnaya with Love

Summary: Cryo Archon's most treasured and beloved possession was not his gnosis, but the Tsaritsa that was protected in the depths of the Zapolyarny Palace.

--

Of the current Seven, the Cryo Archon, the Tsar of Snezhnaya was famed for his glorious victories in the battlefield, a once human who vanquished gods when meeting gods and slayed demons when meeting demons. All Snezhnayans held their Cryo Archon with high regards, loved him and respected him for all the battles he had won for himself and that of Snezhnaya. They tell the story of their Archon, the second to ascend among the Original Seven, whose battle prowess was second only to Morax of Liyue.

Though no one knew their Tsar’s once mortal name, their were many monikers he went by at the times he paraded himself as a mortal; Tartaglia of the Harbingers when in Snezhnaya, Childe when in Liyue, Herrscher in Mondstadt, Wakasama in Inazuma, Le Seigneur in Fontaine, Bhagavan in Sumeru, and Kasike in Natlan. Thus, the people of Snezhnaya found no need to discover their Archon’s once name.

And you were one of them, you had no need nor want to know the Cryo Archon, the Tsar, beyond what he wanted his people to know. All that mattered was that you loved him just as your fellow countrymen did. Though you were no devout follower of the Tsar, despite your status as the heiress of 10 Noble Houses of Snezhnaya’s high society, you still carried yourself like one.

You were after all graced with his element, and your Uncle Pulcinella’s position in the Harbingers ensured that you brought no shame to the prestige of your bloodline and your status as a Cryo Vision Holder. You were the embodiment of your Archon’s ideals, Strength not only to protect one’s self and family but also to challenge the Divine.

It was the price you willingly paid to enjoy the privileges your vision and status granted you. Perhaps in another world you would have gone on and married someone not out of love but out of duty, but such thoughts flew out of the window that one summer day in Morepesok.

It had been a vacation for you, a rare moment of freedom from the prying and judging eyes of the world. You had been allowed to roam free in your Uncle Pulcinella’s vacation villa in the rural seaside village. It was one of the top tourist destinations in Snezhnaya, a town seemingly stuck in time, where the rest of Snezhnaya was filled with towering buildings and skyscrapers of metal and light, Morepesok retained the traditional houses of Snezhnaya.

A rare glimpse of the past long gone. It was during this trip that you had your fateful encounter with the young man, his orange hair with sky blue tips that gently swayed in the cold wind, and his piercing blue eyes that had taken your breath away.

He smiled at you, curious and just a touch of arrogance that let you know he knew he was handsome. Your cheeks flushed not from the cold but from embarrassment.

“Hey there, girlie~!” He called out as he trotted towards you, his hunter attire letting you know he was one of the hunters of Morepesok.

“He-hello” You greeted him back, soft and shy. Stuttering as you felt your heartbeat quicken with each step that he took towards you.

“Don’t you know it’s dangerous in this area?” He asked you, eyes glinting with cold amusement and something in you wanted to rise to his unspoken challenge.

“Oh? Was there?” You replied, “With this being part of my uncle’s villa, I doubt that there is anything here that would be dangerous to me…”

His smile fades away and you continued, “Of course even if this part of the woods is no longer a part of his villa, other than our beloved Tsar’s ire, I would be the most dangerous creature out here.”

You punctuated your words with the masterful and powerful display of your control over Cryo. The frostarm lawachurl heading towards your location toppled over, the top of their head bleeding out from the spikes of cryo that burst out from their forehead. Their dying cry had the man before you looking back and his laughter echoed in the desolate winter forest of Morepesok.

“Hahahaha!” He laughed, hands on his stomach as he bent over “Amazing, comrade! This is the first time I’ve ever seen Cryo be used in such a way! Not even the Tsar was said to be that ruthless!”

You smiled at him, sweet and pleased at his praise, “Perhaps, our beloved Tsar has yet to meet an opponent that would make him use such cruelty.”

“Interesting, I’m Ajax of Morepesok. And you...must be Pulcinella’s treasured niece” His smile turned more genuine offering his hand to you he added, “Something tells me would get along most splendidly.”

And as you gave him your hand, he brought it close to his lips, kissing it gently and you knew, as the distant sound of the waves crashing into the shore sounded in the forest, that your first defeat was in the hands of this charming young man.

And it was your sweetest defeat, you spent most of your days in his cabin, an inheritance from his deceased family, your time split between sparring with him and going ice fishing. Each moment spent made you stronger, Ajax taught you in every weapon he knew. Each touch that corrected your stance sent shivers down your spine.

And neither of you shied away from the inevitable. His touches became less innocent, less sincere in teaching you. And you took every opportunity to have skinship with him, from taking advantage of the gentle cold air to asking for his help in reeling in the ridiculously large fishes in Morepesok.

Despite the never ending cold of Snezhnaya, the distance between you and Ajax slowly melted away with each shed of layer between the two of you. In his cabin, you were just a young maiden in love, and he was just your strong lover who sheltered you from the harshness of the world.

The domesticity of your everyday life with him lulled you into a false sense of comfort, the mornings and afternoons spent with him would come to an end. Maybe, it was the knowledge that you would never be able to return to this time, or perhaps it was your reluctance to be forgotten so easily that led to this point.

The moment Ajax had kissed you against his door, you had shed all pretense of propriety. You kissed him back, tongue entangling with his as his hands ventured down and began divesting you of your clothes. Neither of you stopped kissing as your hand went to his pants and unbuckled his belt, his hydro vision dropping to the ground in sync with him removing your top that held your cryo vision.

You broke off to breath and found your neck being kissed as Ajax lifted you up and you let out a surprised gasp. Your arms automatically embraced his neck as he brought you upstairs and into his bedroom. You had no chance to look around as he gently placed you atop his soft bed.

His lips trailed down from your neck to the center of your chest down to your groin, leaving a soft trail of kisses before he began to eat you out.

Outside the window of his room, snow fell harshly and the windows softly shook with each gust of wind. Idly you wondered what had made the Tsar rage about but this thought was lost to the lust and pleasure of your love making with Ajax.

You laid on his chest, utterly spent as he curled his arm around you and gave you soft kisses atop your head. Neither of you spoke, unwilling to face the reality of your departure. But you were never one to falter from the things that you didn’t like.

You were always moving forward. Bravely facing whatever comes your way, be it life or love. So you broke the silence, because it was what you believed you owed him.

“I’m enlisting in the Fatui” Your voice soft, “This would be most likely the last time we would meet.”

You felt his hand on your waist tighten before it relaxed. You looked at him and was greeted by his warm smile.

“But not definitely” He said and your heart ached because you knew that even if you met him next time there was no chance for anything more.

“Ajax, the next time we meet, I will no longer be as I am today.”

“...”

His eyes grew cold and you found yourself underneath him, he looked at you darkly and foolishly you still found yourself lost in his beautiful eyes.

“We will meet again,” he said, voice hard and steely “and no one would be able to take you away from me.”

His kiss was hard and biting, cold and passionate, and for a moment you believed him.

“Promise me then,” You begged him as tears gathered in the edges of your eyes as you surrendered to him once more “promise me that you’ll wait for me, that you’ll fight for me and I’ll return to you and fight for you.”

“I promise” Ajax smiled, his coldness and anger melting away as he showered you with all of his love. Leaving traces of himself on you, marking you to proclaim his rightful ownership of you.

Enlisting in the Fatui and joining their ranks hadn’t been easy with the additional expectation being brought by your familial connection with one of the current Harbingers, and with that the hatred and envy of others. You didn’t care for it though, thoughts of Ajax and the life you’d have with him making it easier for you. Then again, the Fatui was a place where strength was respected and it was something you had in spades, from fighting abilities to scheming. You didn’t have the best leadership skills but that was something that could be slowly learned.

All in all, you had gritted your teeth, bore the difficulties, and slowly but surely made your way up in the ranks and into being a Harbinger. Innamorati, they called you and you it was a name you proudly wore. A name bestowed upon you by your beloved Cryo Archon, the Tsar with his bright orange hair and deep blue eyes that reminded you of Ajax.

It was surprising to see such a familiar and beloved face in that of the beloved Archon but you had learned to hide your emotions. But even as you walked away from him and went home to celebrate, the unmistakable pull you felt didn’t allow you to delude yourself completely.

You needed to see Ajax.

The trip to Morepesok was faster with the portable waypoint Ajax had made you. An easy temptation to meet him in the middle of your enlistment but one you never took. You wanted to prove yourself, and at the same time show him that you’d never easily cave, be it for him or for something else, you would keep your word. And maybe that was why the waiting figure of your Tsar, in Ajax’ clothes, had shaken your heart.

The winds howled and snow fell harshly, each step he took towards made you tremble whether it was from trepidation or something else you didn’t know but as he took a strand of your hair and held close to his lips you couldn’t help but call for him,

“Ajax?”

You felt at loss, not knowing how much of the days you spent with him were true, not knowing if his words had been meant. You wouldn’t be able to take it if it wasn’t.

“Yes, my love?” He asked, gently and comforting as he took you into his arms and held you tight enough that it hurt.

You didn’t know what to say, unable to put your feelings into words so you buried your face into his chest, held him just as tight with your trembling hands and begged him to understand what your heart wanted.

You never noticed how you remained unaffected by the cold, despite the howling winds and harshly falling snow that surrounded you. All you could think of was the feeling you held tightly as Ajax carried you inside his home, up to his bedroom and slowly but gently began to undress you.

You made no protest beyond the need to have your hand held by his. He had laughed, soft and gentle, at your clinginess but no less than pleased at it.

“I’d need my hand to properly undress you” He said even if he had no problem tearing your clothes off.

You gave him an unimpressed glance but nonetheless leaned close when he moved to take your panties off, you snuggled closer to him, holding his hand tighter. You felt your panties drop to your feet and you moved to take it off them. Ajax pushed you to sit and the bed, finding it adorable and pleasing how you easily complied.

Trusted him so much that you made no protest beyond the soft pout when he untangled your hands. He gently rolled your black thigh highs off your legs, raising one leg high to slowly and teasingly slide it off your smooth legs.

He smirked at seeing your pussy twitch ever so often, knowing that you were surely having lewd thoughts. So he pulled you closer by your legs until your pussy was just a scant few centimeters away from his face. Your breath hitched and you unconsciously wanted to close your legs but his hands stopped it and began the process of taking off your remaining thigh highs. The process barely took a minute but it felt so long that you were ready to beg him.

When your thighs were freed from your thigh highs, you spread your legs, fingers going towards your labia and spreading it wide for him to see.

“Please?” You begged, voice soft and cute as you showed him your glistening wet pussy.

And Ajax, had never been one to deny you. Spoiling you with gifts and affection until you were drunk and dizzy from it. His mouth pressed close to your cunt, tongue licking the outside, circling your clit before it made its way in. He ate you like the sweet treat that you were, holding your thighs securely as you writhed on the bed with pleasure, moans growing louder and louder with each passing minute until you were crying for release.

He was relentless in teasing you, calloused hands teasing your clit before stopping when you were on the edge of your orgasm.

“Ajax~” You cried his name, moaning and panting as his fingers fucked you “please le—ahh!”

“Aren’t you my most devoted Harbinger?” He teased, “Surely you can hold on until I order you to come?”

You nod your head with slight hesitation but it was something Ajax could forgive seeing how you were feverish with want and your earlier words of begging for his cock.

His fingers went in and out of your pussy, each thrust accompanied by the squelch of your slick, his saliva and the hydro that coated his fingers. Your pussy loosened with each passing minute as he alternated his attention to your sweet cunt and your cute clit.

When he had deemed you loose enough, he stood up and freed his cock from the tight and uncomfortable confines of pants, he let his pants and briefs drop to the floor before he climbed the bed and in one smooth motion, plunged his cock into your waiting wet pussy.

“Cum” He ordered and you did, voice a sweet melody to his ears as he fucked you through your orgasm, the loud creaking of the bed and the sound of the head board as it repeatedly slammed on the wall made you aware of your situation, as the haze of lust slightly lifted.

It didn’t do much beyond making you want to hold his hand which Ajax did, held your hand as he repeatedly rammed his cock into your pussy, slowly reaching your depths with each thrust of his cock until he let out his cum inside you, spilling it deep inside your pussy that Ajax knew that there wasn’t any impossibility you wouldn’t end up pregnant.

He softly fell on top of you, caging you beneath him as you hugged his muscular back and simply existed in that moment. His cock remained inside of you and the feeling of being connected in such a way, on having all of him touching your skin, the soft sound of his ragged breaths and his scent mixing with the smell of sex that pervaded your nose anchored you in this precise moment.

Where the world felt like it had melted away leaving the two of you alone. Neither a monarch and his subject nor a god and its believer. Just you and him, as lovers.

“Did you really mean it?” You asked, soft and preparing for the worst.

“Yes,” He answered, voice equally soft as he squeezed you tight, he continued “I meant every I love yous I said to you, every promise made.”

He kissed you on your neck, on the vein that betrayed your heart’s quick pulse. He inhaled your scent which he had missed so dearly, remembering the nights he had spent thinking of you, wondering what you were doing. The nights he laid awake missing your warmth on his side, the afternoon naps where he held you close to his heart.

He watched from afar as you slowly and steadily made your way up in the ranks, each battle won and lost that slowly shaped you into a Harbinger. He thought of the days that made him want to simply steal you away, lock you in his room until you forgot your family, your duty, and only had him in your mind.

But he stopped himself, he knew that doing so would make you lose the shine that had entranced him, he would lose the you that he came to love. The you that was bound by duty both self-imposed and ones imposed by society. So he waited, until the day came when you stood before him, surprise hidden well but he was Ajax, he was your Cryo Archon, he was your lover whom you eagerly wrote every week.

So he knew your tells better than anyone else, knew the moment it clicked in your mind, saw the trepidation behind your eyes and Ajax wouldn’t have that. He had promised you after all, and he was one to keep promises.

Even if one day you wanted to leave him, he wouldn’t allow you. He had a promise to keep after all.

In the depths of Zapolyarny Palace was a room where the Tsaritsa, the Tsar’s most beloved wife resided. It was a room filled with splendor and grace, the best and most beautiful artworks and gadgets decorated the room.

It was a room that the Tsar loved the most, and thus it was the most important room in the Palace. The best of the Fatui sans the Harbingers guarded the doors that led to the halls of the room. It was strictly guarded and meant to ensure that not a single thing would be stolen from the room.

It was after all where you resided, a place where the Tsar designated as his home. His personal haven from courtly matters and godly duties. And today was no exception, every day you spent on the room was reliving your wedding night.

The soft silk sheets that you felt on your back, the white lacy lingerie that you wore underneath your wedding gown. It’s tiny slits that showcased your exposed and erect nipples, the your cum filled pussy that dripped with your husband’s thick cum that was always replenished multiple times in a day. The soft clink of the chains that held your wrists and had your legs spread widely. The familiar sensation of your collar that held your Cryo vision, a mark of his favor and love, a seal that ensured you would remain his until you drew your last breath. The soft cotton of your blindfold had enhanced your other senses beyond compare, making you hyper aware of everything that was happening in the room.

The familiar footsteps on the warm carpet of your bedroom, the familiar rustle of his clothes as it fell softly on the ground, cape first, shirt second, belt next and lastly his pants. His warm calloused hands gently caressing the insides of your thighs.

The same routine, repeated every day at different times since you married him. You couldn’t tell how much time had passed since he blindfolded you, how long you had spent with him, the days blurred as he never removed your blindfold.

He took you apart every time and mended you back, fucking you over and over again until he felt satisfied, until your pussy felt raw, until you were begging him for sweet release, until you lifelessly laid on his chest enjoying the feel of his hard cock being warmed by your cunt.

Your apprehension melted away with each fucking, with each release of his seed inside you, until you could only demand more of his time, more of his attention, more of his cum filling you up.

You loved when he was rough with you, the harsh and loud clinks of the chain as you moaned wantonly, begging him to cum inside you, to use you as he saw fit. And each time he went along with your wishes, fulfilling each and every demand you asked of him.

You kissed him with everything that you were, unrestrained by duty or dignity, only knowing what you want as you rubbed your naked and marked body against his, you weren’t the dignified or noble Tsaritsa the public knew. In this room filled with the most prized treasures of the Tsar, you were his most precious slut.

A slut that opened your legs for him alone, a slut that presented your ass and pussy to him with eager eyes hidden by a blindfold. A slut that couldn’t wait to be filled to the brim. It was his duty, his calling as a husband and as your lover to fulfill your needs, to ram his cock again and again inside your loose pussy that held so much of his cum even when your stomach was already showing.

It was his duty to ensure that you, his lewd wife, would be filled with his cum, from your pussy, to your asshole, to those pretty pink lips that eagerly wrapped itself on his cock. He loved how you didn’t care where he fucked you in the room. He loved how different you acted depending on whether he was ramming his cock inside you on the bed, or fucking you in front of the window.

He loved the way you moaned when the table digged on your hips, the way you grasped at the cover as he slid his dick in and out of your loose pussy, cum spilling down your thighs and pooling on the floor. He loved how slutty you could get when being fucked in the bathtub, water sloshing as you repeatedly slammed your pussy down his cock, moaning loud enough that some of it undoubtedly could be heard behind the thick doors of your room.

He loved the sounds you made, pleased and eager, as he fucked your mouth in front of the fireplace, your naked body sitting on the floor while a Cryo dildo repeatedly slammed inside your pussy.

He loved you when your stomach began showing signs of pregnancy, growing big with each passing week and yet you remained unaware, or perhaps you paid it no mind.

He couldn’t tell if you were genuinely happy with the arrangement but as long as you remained by his side, happily doing what he wants, whispering I love yous and adoration in his ears. Eagerly kissing him good morning and good bye, Ajax didn’t put any thought on it.

On the ninth month of your pregnancy, the blindfold was taken off, you looked at him with love and the unmistakable look of longing.

“I missed you!” You told him, eagerly running up to hug him, and plaster your entire naked body, cum dripping down between your legs, to his.

He laughed at you, amused and loving and gently held you close, “You shouldn’t run so quickly, you’re carrying our child after all.”

You nod, and look at your bulging stomach, hand instinctively rubbing it.

“I hope this child will look just like you!”

“Is that so?” He asked a pensive look in his eyes as he rubbed your stomach.

“Yes! How lovely would it be to see a child version of you? A mini-you calling me mother!”

He smiled at you fondly, pleased to know that you still loved him. He kissed you lovingly on your lips and whispered, “As you wish.”

[narcissa-black-supermacy]

Count me aasm interested in your thoughts about Lily!

okay so.

everything we know about Lily from canon circles around her friendship with Snape. which is why, the moment it is taken from her (which so often happens in marauders fics where Snape is villanised to the point he cant even talk to Lily bc thats not allowed), she becomes a flat one-dimensional character whose only purpose is to be James' love interest, get knocked up at 19 and sacrifice herself for Harry.

if you want to dive even deeper into this, there are two posts I suggest reading. One is this about perception of privilege when you come from a background where you're the majority and suddenly you're a minority (Lily); and the other is longer but super important: two up, two down about class in the UK and the kind of poverty Snape grew up in.

Lily, like many muggle borns, and just like Harry, grows up feelings isolated - she is different, she is a freak, she is a weirdo, and we don't know about her parents, but her sister is always there to remind her of that.

She grows up thinking there is something wrong with her.

Severus is the first person she meets who tells her that the things she's been called a freak for her entire life are actually a gift, that she's special. This is where the bond is created, this is crucial to understand why it's so hard for her to give up on him later.

Severus for Lily represents her first hope - that maybe there is nothing wrong with her, maybe it's a gift and not a curse.

Lily, for Severus, also represents hope in return - she is his escape from his otherwise miserable life in a house with abusive, incapable parents and the kind of poverty where they can't even afford proper clothes for him.

They both come from rural, lower-class English midlands, they are both conscious of class. Lily sees him grow up in an abusive household, she sees him grow up in a house which is barely inhabitable with how poor it is (see referenced meta above, "two up, two down").

Then they go to Hogwarts, and they are instantly separated. While Lily is put in Gryffindor, where she gets the help and support she needs, Severus is put in Slytherin, with pure blooded sons of Death Eaters, people like Malfoy, Rosier, Mulciber, Black, and this is where his fate is decided.

For Lily, she is looking forward to it, to a place where she will finally belong! and INSTEAD she arrives to a place where she is a freak once more - her music, food, clothes are all different. they are calling her a mudblood, she does not even know what it is. she is being attacked by people around her in the middle of a war she did not even know existed, for something she never had to pay one second of attention to.

So there is this battle in her - on one hand she holds contempt to the muggle world for treating her like a freak, on the other hand the wizarding world is no better.

She sees Severus being put into Slytherin, a lower-class, half-blooded kid with a muggle father in a house of people like Malfoy and Rosier, whose rings and shoes cost more than the Snapes' entire house. She tries to help him, she wants to help him, but she isn't enough - his environment, and his desire to fit in, are stronger.

Meanwhile, there is also James - the epitome of everything she can't stand. He is rich, pure-blooded, careless, loud, confident; he does not understand a thing about the kind of background people like her and Severus come from.

Through all of it, there is also Petunia, who only grows more jealous with every year. Every summer at home is harder for Lily because of her. At this point, she has no home.

At Hogwarts, she's a stranger for being muggle born. At home, she's a stranger for being a witch. Severus, her only escape between the two, starts hanging out with people who are the same ones making her life difficult at school.

All the while, she feels some sense of loyalty to him and a desire to save him in the most Gryffindor way possible, while everybody around her keeps telling her that it's a lost cause, until it eventually blows up in her face.

She loses, and it hurts.

I could go on but this is already too long... These are the basics, the pillars of her personality, the battle of two worlds and the one in between them. How she does not belong anywhere, how she watches people get ruined from aside and she's helpless to do anything to help.

I really really would have loved to see the kind of person she would become, and the kind of things she would do, based on all of this, if she did not die so young.

[mystic-shadows42]

Uhtred Imagine: Love & Treason

“How’s the dress look?” 

“Exquisite, my lady,” was your response. There was never a day that Æthelflæd ceased to be graceful. She was everything one can imagine of a princess. She was born privileged and never had to see what laid just outside these walls, not as you have.

“I’ll be needing extra sheets for the bedding.” Æthelflæd was distracted by looking over her new dress in the mirror.

“In regards to what, my lady?”

“I’ll be requesting Uhtred’s presence. We are in need of discussing what this marriage will entail.”

Your heart raced at the mention of Uhtred’s name but even more so at the notion of Æthelflæd’s request.

“My lady, forgive me but it will be seem improper at least not until you two are officially married.”

She turned her head towards you. There was usually no question of her actions on your part but with your love’s name leaving her lips didn’t sit well. None of it did.

Whenever you and Uhtred would meet up he’d just tell you not to think about it and continue on to kiss you and caress your soft skin until you both would have to depart.

There was always the lingering thought that Æthelflæd will be his wife one day. You would have to watch them dote on each other whether for appearances or not. He could fall in love with her in time.

Then one day you’d have to care for their children. You’d be made to sit silently watching their lives unfold. If fate were kind, they’d allow you to leave and perhaps find love again.

“I trust you to sneak him in here and be discreet no doubt,” Æthelflæd spoke, breaking your leering thoughts.

“Of course. I’ll fetch the sheets immediately after my duties are fulfilled.”

Endless scenarios lingered on your mind long after your duties were over and you held the sheets in your hand. Silent tears cascaded down your cheeks like an ever-growing river trying to break free from the dam that held them in.

Your breath hitched when firm hands held your waist.

“It’s just me,” Uhtred chuckled. He nuzzled his face by your neck. No matter what you felt on the matter, his presence was always a calming one to your racing heart.

He wrapped his arms around you from behind and inhaled your scent. “I’ve missed you. When I didn’t see you by Æthelflæd‘s side I didn’t know what to do with myself. She noticed I was distant.”

“Uhtred.” 

His body stiffened when he heard your solemn voice. He backed away and turned you to face him. When he saw your face cascaded down he lifted your head and drew near when he saw your tears.

He cupped your face with his hands and you placed yours over his forearms.

“No, don’t cry.” He wiped your tears with his thumbs. He had a smile on his face as he slowed his movements. “You are beautiful, even when you cry.”

You sniffled a low chuckle. “Beautiful? I am wearing a worn ragged dress and crying. I am anything but beautiful.”

His eyes became stern. “You are beautiful. Now say it.”

“Uhtred-”

“Say it or we’ll stay in here all day.”

You looked in his eyes watching how his were looking at yours intently. He always had a way of breaking you out of your own mind.

“I am beautiful.” You said each word slowly and carefully as to fully satisfy Uhtred’s wish.

Once you said it, Uhtred then kissed your lips slowly while keeping his eyes closed. He withdrew from you slowly with his eyes still closed, relishing the moment. There was hardly any time for the both of you with the wedding drawing near.

He opened his eyes and licked his lips. “How is it that you do not know your worth?”

You grew confused at his words. “What do you mean?”

Uhtred took a strand of your hair and played with it in between his fingers. You smiled at his action and did the same to his hair. Before him, you had never seen a man with hair as long as his.

“I would give my life for you.”

You stopped your movements and dropped your hands from him. Uhtred knew what you were thinking and pulled your body impossibly close to his so you were against each other.

“I do not like when you speak like that. Your life is not worth mine nor will I ever want you to give it, whether spoken or not. You are too important to me.”

You were always brought up to believe that one should never speak of their life lightly. You loved Uhtred with all your heart. It pained you to be deprived of him. 

“My love for you is far greater than anything else. You were an unexpected surprise when I came here. I cannot imagine living without you by my side.”

He smiled at you and it lightened your heart to see it was only directed at you. There had been countless of those similar smiles that he shared with Æthelflæd when he courted her through the gardens. Ones that made you doubt his love for you, but at the end of the day, he always came back to you.

You shared your bodies with each other and while you both laid in bed you’d share stories with one another. Though the next day, it’d repeat like any other.

You’d wait all day just to see him but he’d have to remain focused on Æthelflæd rather than you in public. Uhtred would sometimes brush your hand against his or catch you whenever you became clumsy.

It was all very subtle to everyone else but to you and Uhtred it was a small victory to at least touch one another on the days that kept you apart.

Uhtred touched the soft silk sheets that remained by you on the shelf. Before he had came into the small closet, you had been fiddling with the expensive fabric wondering if Uhtred would be laying in them with Æthelflæd. You had let out a humorless chuckle while his attention was on them not knowing what they’d entail later.

“My lady Æthelflæd wants me to sneak you in her chambers tonight.” Uhtred stopped touching the fabric knowing what they’d be used for. He sighed and placed your heads together.

You closed your eyes relishing being in his presence.

“Fate has not been too kind to us Uhtred. No matter how many times we are together,” you shrugged, “we cannot be together. You are not mine nor will you ever be. We are torn between two feelings. Love and Loyalty. I am betraying the lady Æthelflæd and the people of Wessex.” You pulled away to now look into his eyes. “Then there’s you. My one true love.” You took a shaky breath making your eyes start to tear up. “Understand that if we keep doing this, your life and your men’s lives will always be at stake. Your homeland will never be recovered and you will die a slow torturous death because of me. I can’t have that.”

Even as you spoke Uhtred didn’t seem as worried or afraid as you. He was eerily calm as he listened to every word.

He moved his shirt so his chest was exposed and placed your hand over his chest where his heart laid. The rhythm of his heart was soothing.

“I am alive because of you. My heart beats for no one else. I never want you to doubt us. This isn’t it for us. I will not let that be our fate when our destiny has yet to be told.” He brushed your hair back and kissed your neck. “They’ll sing songs about our love story one day.” He brought his hand up to your neck as he kissed your soft spot. You turned your head so he could have better access. “I have an idea that’ll solve all of this.”

“No, Uhtred. It can’t be anything that’ll jeopardize you. Promise me,” you spoke sternly. Uhtred was ambitious and you knew just how stubborn he can be when he has his mind set up but he was always true to his word with you. He nipped at your neck but you placed your hand on his exposed chest. “Quit trying to distract me.”

He brought your hand up to his lips as he kissed it. His eyes gleamed with mischief. “I promise that everything will work out.”

You placed your hand on his face and smiled at him. It made you happy to know that he was here and safe.

“I must be getting back. I’ve been gone for too long.”

He leaned down while you reached up to kiss him. He had his arms wrapped around you possessively as if he didn’t want to let you go. He dragged his hands down your sides and onto your hips then reluctantly let you go.

“Don’t forget to meet up at our spot tonight.”

You nodded. You wouldn’t miss your little late-night meet-ups for the world. As you headed towards the door you could feel that he still held onto the fabric of your worn-out dress.

You looked over your shoulder seeing him making a frowning face at your departure. It made you chuckle seeing the fierce warrior act like a child.

“Don’t be getting into any trouble now.”

He smirked at your response, but little did you know Uhtred already had a plan. It was a dangerous one but if all worked out then you two would be together.

After all, love conquers all.

[pushpinsheep]

Hopefully this puts things in greater perspective because some tourists just don’t get it and need to hear this. For those who are curious and looking to travel in the future I hope you find this is informative! :) We could all use more perspective on linguistics and traveling imho. I have made some of these mistakes in the past too. We can all learn to be better guests/tourists. This mindset people have that not only is it okay for tourists to exploit and mistreat local populations, but it’s something that should be encouraged is wrong. You’re not entitled to anything special as a tourist just because you have enough money to play around somewhere “exotic” for a few weeks. Regardless of where people travel to. As a guest in someone else’s home you should put more effort into not being a total asshat. You will have a better time and you might learn something cool along the way. I will mostly be using France as an example since I live here and have more insight, but everything I say applies outside of France as well. Note: This information only applies to tourists. Immigrants and refugees are a unique situation and thus face different challenges and have different needs. A tourist chooses where to go and has time (and money) to plan for their trip, which is often only a few weeks or days. Immigrants and refugees often don’t have that same luxury and remain in the country for far longer. (in many cases permanently) Moving to a country places a greater linguistic and cultural demand on an individual. Remember to check your privilege. tourism =/= immigration/asylum. A) English is not the only language in existence. It might be a widely spoken language, but it’s not the most widely spoken language (that honor goes to Chinese) nor is it the only lingua franca. Chinese, Hindu, Spanish, French, and Arabic are all widely spoken across multiple borders and where you are on the planet will obviously dictate which one of these people go with. If you expect that to be English because your sphere of the internet happens to put you in that bubble of “my language or bust” ignorance then like... that’s on you pal. Get with the times and stop assuming everyone should just speak English. English speakers are not the only tourists and English, though widely used, is not the only other language a person might need. I have a friend from Laos who speaks absolutely no English. He doesn’t need it and never has. (even now) He speaks Lao (the regional dialects can be as different as Thai is from Laotian btw), Chinese, a bit of Thai, and French because they still use a lot of French for business dealings there. (something I didn’t know ngl) Assuming he should just speak English because “everyone else does” is ignorant. It’s rude. It puts no thought into his situation. It’s entitled. He’s traveled to visit friends in England and he has an English phrase book. He doesn’t need a lot of English so like... the phrase book is absolutely perfect. Most of what he does in England is sight see and speak Chinese with his friends. Be more like my friend from Laos. B) Official languages may not be the only language a country speaks within its borders. Regional and native languages exist and expecting the locals to speak a 3rd language on top of all that is unbelievably entitled. France has a number of them. There are people who are born and raised in France who don’t speak French in their day to day life. (or at all) Basque, Breton, Occitan, Alsatian, Yiddish, Ladino, Arabic and a number of others are all spoken within French borders. Many are at risk of being permanently lost (that’s why our new regional language law is important btw) and as a result a greater emphasis is placed on preserving them as opposed to learning something new. Most people have to learn the official language as it’s the only language a lot of countries will accept for paperwork, but anything else is up to the individual and you can suck an egg if you don’t like that. (this also applies to immigrants and refugees btw) Heck there are places in the US where people don’t even speak English day to day! Some places actually speak French or Spanish. I heard more Spanish in my day to day life than I did English where I grew up in NC! (moved to Florida and Spanish exploded. loved it!) C) Borders are a thing. People working and living across borders exist and English is often not the language they chose to go with as a result. France borders Germany, Spain, Italy, Belgium, England, and Switzerland. People who share these borders often choose to go with these languages. English is in there, but please note it’s not the only one. D) Culturally speaking a country may not like [insert common language here] and as a result may refuse to speak it. That’s entirely their choice. If you don’t like that then don’t visit the country. It’s really that easy.  Colonialism is often a major factor at play in these situations. Respect that choice. You do not get a say in how people reclaim their identity. As for France? This might come as a shock to some people, but France doesn’t like England. I’m 100% certain these two places exist solely to punch each other in the nuts. (ball tap. an international past time) As a result getting English people to speak French or French people to speak English is about as easy as pulling your own teeth. I’ve been spit on for speaking English because people here just assume I’m from England or they hate “annoying Americans” and after seeing how y’all responded to the last post I made... yeah I totally get it now. Granted, that’s no excuse for someone being hostile, but it is something to keep in mind when you visit and applies to more than just France too. E) Retail workers and small shop owners don’t owe you shit. You have absolutely no right waltzing into a shop and demanding the staff speak your language (I don’t care how common it is) for the two weeks you’ve decided to play around in their home. Always ask them first. If they can’t or choose not to then tough luck. This is why a phrase book is important!

Retail workers and small shop owners get treated like shit enough. Some of y’all have never worked retail a day in your life and WOW does it show. Please respect retail workers and small shop owners. You don’t know what their day or life has been like. If they’re tired and don’t want to speak to you in a foreign language then that’s their right. I have had no issues using my phone or a phrase book to help communicate concepts when there is a language barrier. (and I fucking live in France. I’m not even visiting) Emergencies also happen and a phrase book or medical card in the native and/or official language is absolutely essential! Even if you just have an allergy to something! This is a great way to stay safe! When you visit another country being aware of and researching cultural differences includes linguistic differences. Tourists are guests. You don’t live here, you don’t get a say. Remember, learning a second language (esp if you don’t use it often) is really hard. If you’re visiting a country do not expect them to just use whatever language you speak. Mind you a phrase book is also important because people within a country may not have a strong grasp on English even if they do speak it. You can very easily get lost or injured without a phrase book to help you. These things allow you to better experience a country and communicate without actually having to learn the entire language... or any of it. And, once again, they exist for free online! You do not need to learn an entire language to visit somewhere, but you need to be prepared for there to be a barrier. People assuming I mean you need to learn a whole language are uh... really something else. Like do you guys think half the people bending over backwards to communicate with you know the full language? Go ahead. Fuck around and find out. ;) Obviously I’m not saying you should be treated poorly when visiting if you don’t know the language. Unfortunately no matter how much effort you put in there will always be someone who’s a jerk and I’m sorry for that. All I’m saying is as a tourist you owe it to yourself and others to be better prepared. Trust me. You’ll have a better time in the end. (and if you did the research you’d find that Paris is not the best first place to visit... even if you’re french lol) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GS64ZT4eWUA Please watch this guy’s video. It is hilarious and touches on a lot of the same points I just made. Thank you for your time. :) ---------------- Cultural tidbit for those who are curious about where I live in France: I live in Alsace currently! (moved from Lyon, but my spouse is from here) In Alsace you might meet people who speak English, but it’s also entirely likely you won’t! Alsace is also a very tourist heavy area because it looks like a German fairy tale and has a lot of tiny villages with cool stuff to do! I highly recommend visiting here over Paris! We have so many storks! (clackclackclack)

Our logo is a pretzel!

That being said, Alsace has its own regional language!

It’s not uncommon to see bilingual signage or to pass someone on the street and hear them speaking Alsatian. You’ll usually hear it from older people, children, or those from rural areas. It’s really fun to listen to and absolutely wild to see written on museum signs!  Kids here will start school learning French, regardless of what they speak at home, which has resulted in a downswing of Alsatian speakers in recent years. That’s why the new regional language law I mentioned waaaaaay above is so important. It’ll allow schools to teach most of the day in Alsatian instead of French with the goal being fully bilingual adults! :) As of right now, most kids here choose German or English (depending on the school) as their second language. Some kids pick Alsatian and honestly? Good for them! I’m glad!

[babytaes]

steal a kiss

summary: what is it like to be a staff member under Pledis, well y/n knows well, the in’s and out of living as a stylist for Seventeen. 

pairing: mingyu x female reader

genre: light smut (like its barely there), fluff

warnings: thigh-riding.......umm

a/n: I wanted to give a short one-shot to my carats and any other peeps out there in appreciation of reaching 300 followers. Thank you to everyone who has followed me on this writing adventure; I truly appreciate it and hope you will stick with me to the end. Enjoy and always much love from babytaes! :)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Being a member of the team seventeen staff has its privileges, which come in handy on a regular basis. Breakfast, lunches, and dinners are all provided for free. All provided on the company card.

Days where you had to wake up at the butt crack of dawn to prepare clothing for the boys, yeah it was a delight.

Despite the fact that every job has its own set of advantages and disadvantages, you were fortunate enough to get hired by S.Coups (Pledis) Entertainment.

You had your share of late nights and early mornings, but the final result of each member always made you proud of the work you and your coworkers put in.

Today was a photo shoot day, which happened to fall during promotion season, which was already stressful enough. You were thrilled to celebrate Jihoon's success when he released another banger.

You picked up some drinks on your way to work for the members who were first in line for their individual shot. Seungkwan, Mingyu, Jeonghan, and Jihoon were on the agenda.

Despite the fact that it was supposed to be an early-bird day, you arrived early, ready to take on the world.

“Hey Y/N, early morning isn’t it.” As she walked past you, she waved and embraced you in a hug.

“It is, and I'm starting to believe they purposefully put us on these shifts. It's always photo sessions for us,” you said as you strolled over to the clothing rack, your eyes glittering at the several items of clothing.

“For real, it's fine once it gets rolling, but we still need a break.”

“Break what is that foreign word?” you ask as you turn around.

“You're a mess; hurry up and start organizing so we can look like we're doing our job.”

You grinned as you shook your head and turned around. Jihyo was a member of the staff who you met when you first started working for Pledis.

It's a long story, but you were friends with a few members during their debut and essentially grew up with them, so when you went to work for them, you took her under your wing. She’s basically your apprentice.

Anyway, back to Pledis and your great life. The joys of being overworked.

---

 As time passed, more individuals and crew began to arrive at the location, prepping for the shot. You had a few more minutes before things started, so you walked to the back to find something to eat.

Courtesy of the company’s card . ;) 

As you moved back to the snack table, you heard voices and looked up from your phone to see the infamous boys walking in. When you see him, you instantly smile and slowly come to a halt, allowing them to pass.

As they hurried quickly inside the dressing room, the boys said their flurry of hellos to you. One stood there for a long time, looking around before slipping his arm around your waist.

“Good morning, love,” I wasn't expecting to meet you this early in the morning, but I'm glad I arrived first.” As he lingered above your lips, teasing you, his face drew in closer to yours.

As you carefully peel him off of you, your cheeks begin to burn up.

“There’s people around gyu”

“That didn’t stop me”

“In all seriousness, I'm glad to see you,” you said with a chuckle. These schedules are becoming increasingly hectic, and I hardly have time to see you.”

Mingyu took another look around before he went down to peck your lips, astonished and taken aback, you giggled as you walked away.

“Let’s get to work young man”

“Yes, ma'am,” He walked away toward the shoot, raising a salute and sharply shaking his head.

Only Jihoon and Seungkwan were clothed in their first outfit when you entered the dressing room.

“Are my eyes failing me or do I see Jeonghan not dressed?” you exclaim at the astonished males in front of you, furrowing your brows.

He looked up from his phone, leaped to his feet, and dashed over to the racks, grabbed his name badge while apologizing.

You didn't have any kind of motherly power over them, no way. However, if any of them were to be late for any reason, you wouldn't mind giving them a gentle push to get them going.

Hehe. 

You pushed Mingyu to his sector and instructed him to be ready in ten minutes, “apparently the first unit is Jihoon and Seungkwan.”

They all shook their heads when they realized what you were saying. Taking one last look at him you sighed and returned to the garment rack, where you gathered extra outfits for them.

It didn’t take long for the boys to be done with their photo shoot, they did have great genes which impacted the photo shoot time.

You and your team do a fantastic job styling them, if I do say so myself. Now came the worst part: packing everything back into suitcases and bags and returning them to their original locations.

As you prepare the van, you speak incoherently as you place all of the respected garments and accessories in their proper spots.

You waved farewell the first time as they drove away. Being that type of person you wanted to be sure everything was in order, so you went back in and did a quick check.

Mr. Kim, the troublesome one, greeted you as you made your way to the dressing room. You cough as you stand outside the door frame, arms folded.

“Ahh- what the hell.” He looked around and became instantly calm.

“Now, why are you still dressed like that?” As he carefully made his approach to you, he kissed your arms as you said, "I already packed away the stuff."

“You worry too much love.” He kisses your desired lips as he draws you closer to him, silencing your cries. As you moan into him, you melt under his touch.

“Gyu... mmmh, we have to go,”  As he moves you closer to the couch, Mingyu's gaze remains fixed on you.

You give into his lustful need with another sigh, despite the fact that you were thinking the same thing.

“Y/N? He retorted

“Yes Mingyu?”

As he pressed kisses on your neck, he drew you down onto his lap. Moving to the side, you gave him more access while you moaned under his touch.

“I love you,” he says with a smile as you travel slowly across his thigh, a performance you never got tired of. As you shuddered, he observed you throwing your head back.

He whispers, "Such a good girl y/n," and caresses your jawline with butterfly kisses. "Are you near, baby?" he inquires, his gaze fixed on yours.

As you pick up the speed, the friction on his thigh becomes more intense. As your breath returns to normal, you slump forward on his chest.

“See, that wasn't so bad,” he says as you leap up from his thigh and hit his chest.

“Babeeee, these are not your clothes. As you cross your arms, he begins to giggle, “Now I have to dry clean them.”

“Let’s go, I still have a lot of work to do.”

As you walk out the door, he takes your hand in his and entwines it with kisses.

“You still love me,” he says, shoving his nose in your face as you enter one of the staff cars. As you locked the door behind him, you could almost hear him pouting.

“Mmmh, you're being mean.” You grinned as you rolled your eyes at him and said to the driver, "Let's go."

“I could never be mean to you gyu, buttt we did get a stain on your pants which will be a hell of a pain to get off.” He draws you closer to him, laughing, and lets you rest your head on his shoulder as he kisses you.

“Hey, you got it; the amount of stains we both accumulated on clothes is overwhelming, but you've done it before, so you can do it again.”

“You should be cleaning it with the amount of cum you spill,” you say.

“I mean, I did suggest cleaning it up, but you didn't want that.”

“I'm not going to clean it with my tongue, and you do realize these pants aren't yours.”

You and him squabble all the way back to the corporate building, which is the beauty of being a stylist. Even though it was all in good fun, you missed this. The random conversations you and him would have.

It filled your heart with excitement, but it was cut short when you thanked the driver and exited the vehicle.

“You sure you can’t stay with me?” As he gazed at you, his eyes became sorrowful. You kissed his lips as you shouted out to the driver, falling in love with this enormous puppy once more.

“Get him home safely Mr. Lee” he turned around and shook his head at you.

“Bye, love; I'll see you after work.” As he spoke in your ear, he took your hand and pulled you in for a kiss.

“Let’s continue what we started.” Before closing the door, he winked at you.

As I previously stated, being on the seventeen staff has its advantages, and this was one of them.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

➳ Navigate to the Maze

[tayegi]

A note on Asian privilege

As some of you know, I live in a small, predominantly white suburban town. Last week, I went to the grocery store and stood in line waiting to check out behind this old white couple. I noticed the nice conversation the cashier was having with the couple, and figured that we might have a similar exchange. So I went up to the cashier when it was my turn with a friendly greeting, but the moment she laid eyes on me, her expression completely changed. She immediately dove for her hand sanitizer and smeared it all over before she would even touch my groceries, and didn’t respond to my greeting. And even as she bagged my groceries, she refused to make eye contact, and kept a healthy distance between us, even with the glass divider already in place. And that’s when I realized that she wasn’t just being rude-- she was terrified of me. That even though I was born and raised in the US and have not stepped foot in Wuhan China, she was scared that I might carry a deadly virus and get her sick. 

I have experienced many condescending and outright racist insults in my life, both subtle (e.g., “But where are you really from?”) and overt (e.g., “Go back to your country” and other racist slurs), but never have I ever experienced anyone reacting to me with fear before. And when I told this story to my family, they were equally as shocked. “Why would she be scared?” “But you’re so small and harmless!” I remember feeling strangely embarrassed by the encounter-- like I was the one to blame for the cashier’s fear of me. That I should apologize for the deadly coronavirus just on account of me being Asian. 

And that’s when I realized that this is exactly what Black Americans have experienced everyday for hundreds of years. 

That feeling of being seen as dangerous. Of others being afraid of you. It is gut-wrenching. And it is mind-blowing that no one in my family has experienced this until 2020 with COVID-19. This fear of Asians will pass, as COVID-19 either passes or becomes integrated into our daily lives. But the association of Blacks as dangerous criminals still continues, and will continue unless we do something about it. 

I am so beyond privileged that I can walk into a store without fear of being followed by a cashier or accused of robbery. That I can call police for help without fear of being shot or arrested instead. 

Asian Americans are called the “model minority” and some even wear this title as a badge of honor. It is not a compliment and should not be viewed as such. It’s a manipulative way to turn minority groups against each other. “Look at how much Asians have achieved. Why can’t black/Latino people be more like them?” Why? Because Asians already come from a place of immense privilege. 

We love to pat ourselves on the back and think of ourselves as hard-working underdogs who overcame the barriers of language and racism to succeed. I won’t deny that there are hardships that immigrants and other Asians face. No one is saying that you didn’t suffer!! But your sufferings are in no way comparable to what Black Americans face on a daily basis. And that’s because most Asians come from highly educated or wealthy backgrounds. Think of all the international students you know-- what’s the stereotype about them? That they’re filthy rich, huh? And why’s that? Because it’s true. Asians currently have the highest SES and are the most educated of all ethnic groups in the United States. The only Asians who are allowed to immigrate to the U.S. are usually the richest or most educated. And there aren’t negative stereotypes about dangerousness or criminal behavior around us. 

My dad was a poor grad student, and I grew up in relative poverty as a kid. I remember watching him struggle to make ends meet. But even then, we were highly privileged. Both my parents already had their bachelor’s degrees before immigrating. Do you know how rare that is? Both of them had decades of education and support that set them up for success in the United States. Sure, there was the language barrier, but they were offered free ESL classes from the university. And if all else failed, they could easily just go back to their homeland and find work there. And once my dad graduated with his graduate degree, he was instantly able to find high paying jobs that instantly launched us up to the middle class. Yes, I was poor growing up. Yes, my parents struggled. But they were highly educated, coming from privileged families, and could teach me and pass down those skills. 

The number one predictor of your future SES and income is your parents’ income. 

Let that sink in. 

It’s not hard work. It’s not intelligence. It’s what privilege you were born with that determines your success. Now imagine if you had to start all the way back with slavery. Where you were just an object and had no rights or money. The “American Dream” is just a lie rich people tell to keep poor people in their place. “If you work hard, you can achieve success.” And then they try to use Bill Gates or Zuckerberg as examples of this “American Dream.” Bullshit. Sure, Gates & Zuckerberg dropped out of Harvard to pursue their dreams, but they were privileged enough to get into Harvard in the first place. And I can guarantee you that I would have never gotten into my PhD program-- wouldn’t have even dreamt of applying, if not for my family of academics. 

Asian Americans need to shake off the title of “model minority” and stand with Black Americans. We might be seen as particularly well-behaved dogs, but we’re still dogs in the system. We’ve seen how fast the American public has turned on us during the COVID pandemic. I doubt there’d be even a fraction of this xenophobia and violent hatred if the virus came from Europe. Don’t forget that Japanese Americans were imprisoned in internment camps during WWII. Not even Germans, who started the war, but the foreign-looking ones. And don’t forget that the Chinese weren’t even considered human and weren’t allowed to be U.S. citizens until less than 80 years ago. The system is no friend of ours. No matter how they try to flatter us with all this “model minority” bullshit. We are not special and we will never be seen as equals by Whites. 

Standing in solidarity with Black Lives Matter is standing for equality. It means that we will not put up with white supremacy and systemic injustices anymore. The system is broken, and I am sick and tired of seeing other Asian Americans do everything in their power to try to be perfect, unoffending citizens and appease white people in power. We have to fight for justice and equality. Not just because the tides can turn at any time and put us at harm, but simply because it is the right thing to do. And we, as a community, are in a unique position of privilege in order to make change. 

Black Lives Matter. And check your goddamn privilege. 

[free-pool-trash]

utopia- peter maximoff

yeah... im back being in love with Peter <3 enjoy loves <3

word count: 3k

warnings: angst and fluff, wandavision spoilers

id be open to writing more parts if anyone was interested <3 (I wrote this at 4am if it’s all over the place im sorry)

masterlist

You didn’t know much, but one thing was for certain; you didn’t belong here.

This morning you had opened your eyes and were met with a town that seemed like the very definition of the suburban dream. Your mind screamed at you as soon as you came to in the strange and indisputably new environment, telling you that this town was your home. The fact that you couldn’t remember anything before your eyes had fluttered open didn’t fill you with the utmost confidence about the legitimacy of the voice in your head, or the utopia that surrounded you.

All you knew was that you came here to look for someone. This someone was someone very important to you and you had a feeling that you were exactly where you needed to be to find this someone. There was one minor problem though; you didn’t have a clue who this special someone was, just that you needed to find him.

Cautiously, you found yourself wandering the town that seemed to be lost in time. All of its residents dressed like they were all attending an 80s themed party, yourself included. You couldn’t recall pulling on the ridiculous getup but that voice told you not to worry about it. It wasn’t long before you were in the middle of the town square, people bustled around you happily, all of them eerily going about their day as if they hadn’t a care in the world. Nobody looked stressed or sad or anything other than animatedly happy.

The realisation caused a slight panic to begin in your chest, there was something very wrong happening here and you didn’t know what. The very second you began to show anything that didn’t come across as positively blissful, the voice you’d been hearing since you opened your eyes sounded in your brain, louder than ever.

You are happy here. WestView is home. You are home.

Despite her soothing tone, you weren’t convinced.

“Who are you?” You demanded out loud, whipping your head in all directions, eyes set in a glare as you watched the citizens of the town acting none the wiser to your question.

Within seconds a woman appeared before you, a sweet smile on her face and two children by her side. “Hey there, you must be the new neighbour.” She spoke kindly, something familiar about the woman caused you to immediately relax in her presence although that relaxation felt somewhat… forced.

With a hesitant nod you looked around again, you brought your eyes back to the little family and offered them your best friendly smile, “It seems I must be, yeah.”

The lady giggled and held her hand out towards you, “Nice to meet you, I’m Wanda. And these two are Billy and Tommy.” You took her hand in yours, suddenly overwhelmed with an influx of thoughts that didn’t seem to be yours. Suddenly you were giving Wanda the most sparkling smile you could manage, not entirely sure why your mouth had formed such a smile for a complete stranger.

“Pleasure to meet you all.” Were the only words you could manage, still riddled with confusion as to what was going on.

Wanda returned your smile, Billy and Tommy seemed almost enamoured by you as they both stared at the new arrival. Glancing at her boys, Wanda knew she’d have to keep a very close eye on you, you were a mutant and stronger than even you knew, hard to control. But she had let you through her barricade as soon as she realised who you were and why you came.

“What’s your name?” Billy had asked and Wanda grew nervous as she noticed your eyes lose their smile for a second as you blanked on the simple question.

What was your name? It took you a moment or two before you regained your composure and extended your arm to the little boy in front of you who shook it excitedly, “Y/n. My name is Y/n, it’s really nice to meet you two.”

“Say, would you like to come and have dinner with us?” Wanda offered and you nodded your head gratefully.

“Dinner would be lovely. I’m feeling quite airy today, a good feed might help.” You told her with a laugh.

You walked to what you assumed to be Wanda’s residence, Billy and Tommy spoke excitedly to you as you walked, the pair of them strolled on either side of you fighting for your attention and entertaining you as they constantly tried to one up each other.

“You’re so cool! I can’t wait for uncle piet to meet you!” Tommy commented, prompting a soft smile from Wanda and an agreeing nod from Billy.

With a laugh you ruffled the boys’ hair, “Uncle Piet, huh? I bet I’m way cooler than that guy.”

“Don’t let him hear you say that.” Wanda laughed, her hold on you lessening as you began to relax on your own accord.

It only took a few more minutes until the four of you arrived at their house. As you entered you took a second to take in the interior, the 80s theme not as glaringly out of place to you as it had been earlier.

“Vis! Pietro! I’m home and I’ve brought a guest!” Wanda’s sweet voice sounded from the kitchen.

“Uncle Piet hurry up! Come meet our new friend!”

“Come on! Come on! Hurry up!”

Billy and Tommy yelled up the stairs impatiently and you smiled fondly at the boys, crossing your arms over your chest as you anticipated meeting ‘the funnest guy in the whole world’.

“M’coming! Jeez.” The deep voice made you freeze. For the first time since you arrived in WestView you could finally say you recognised something.

The thumping of feet running down the stairs had your heart beating out of your chest and when you finally came face to face with the man the twins had praised so highly you thought your ribs were at risk of breaking from how rapidly it was pumping.

The man looked at the twins, expectantly, “Alright. Where’s the one making you two so excited?” He hadn’t noticed you yet.

With a shaky breath, it bagan coming back to you, he was the someone you were looking for. He wasn’t just someone special, he was your love. And there he stood, silver hair unkempt as usual and his signature grin painted his lips.

“She’s-“ Billy started but Peter cut him off.

“She? You guys get yourself a lil girlfriend? Huh?” He wiggled his eyebrows and you couldn’t help the breathless laugh that left you. He was still your Peter. Funny, lighthearted, great with children and not completely thoughtless behind his gorgeous doe eyes like the rest of the town’s residents.

The airy laugh caused a shiver to run up his spine. No, you couldn’t be here. Not you. But he knew without even turning his head that it was you, his girl, the love of his life. The loyalist person he’d ever had the privilege of being able to love. Of course you’d follow him to a whole different reality.

He whipped his head in your direction, his mouth falling open as his eyes landed on your form, your eyes shining the way they always did when you’d see him after a long mission.

“Peter?” The boy felt his heart crack as your expression dissolved into something between confusion and panic. He quickly zoomed over to you and pulled you into him, pressing your head into the crook of his neck to hide your expression from Wanda who had yet to return from the kitchen.

His lips hovered close to your ear, “Pietro, you have to call me Pietro. I’ll explain everything, I promise just act natural for me, alright?” He murmured, moving his hand comfortingly up and down your back, aware that the twins were watching Peter pulled away but wrapped an arm around your shoulder and you forced yourself to smile as the pair of you faced the boys.

“How’d you guys manage to find my girlfriend in this dump?” He asked jokingly, smirking proudly as their faces dropped.

Billy glared and raised his little eyebrow at his uncle, “Your girlfriend?”

“You were right, you two. He definitely is the funnest person but I still win in the cool department.” You said, laughing nervously and hoped you weren’t being too conspicuous.

“Oh come on,” Peter groaned, “I haven’t seen you in forever and you’re already making fun of me in front of my nephews? That’s cold.” He pressed his lips to your temple, keeping them there for a few seconds, they were firm and sure and they let you know that he was really with you, you’d found him and he was real.

When Wanda re entered the room you felt your shock ebb as if it were being drowned beneath the surface before you could calm it naturally. You allowed your body to melt into Peter, your unintentional, sitcom worthy smile making his way across your lips again.

“Oh good, so you two have met then?” Wanda grinned, knowingly. Peter gave her a grin of his own.

“We’ve done more than meet.” He told her suggestively and you poked his ribs gently.

“You should’ve told me you were a Maximoff,” You giggled out as Peter littered your face with kisses while the twins gagged, the silver haired man pulled away from you for only a second to stick his tongue out at his nephews before he returned his attention to you as you chastised Wanda softly, “I would’ve been able to prepare myself to see this loser.”

Peter scoffed and gently pushed you away before speeding to catch up with your body. He wrapped his arms around your torso from behind and rested his chin on your shoulder, “She loves me really.”

Peter knew exactly what Wanda was after; a perfect family. He understood that’s what she wanted but he didn’t know how far she would go to achieve that goal. He had to make sure you played along, he couldn’t lose track of you again.

Your next words caused a stir in the hearts of both the siblings, your head was turned and your gaze was locked on Peter’s face, eyes free of any outside emotion as you broke out of Wanda’s hold and what Wanda read off your face wasn’t fear nor confusion, it was nothing but pure adoration for her brother.

“I do. I really do.” You told him, eyes becoming glassy before Wanda managed to regain control of your mind. You cleared your throat and gave Peter an airy smile, gently placing your lips against the curve of his jaw and he bit the inside of his cheek as he held you, allowing the conversation to flow easily and trying his best to support you as you unknowingly exhausted yourself fighting against his sister's hold.

He had a feeling you hadn’t remembered your mutation yet. You were one of the most powerful mutants Xaviers School had ever seen, your powers similar to Jean and Charles himself. Telekinesis was a tricky game, especially when you weren’t aware of it.

He remembered when he’d met you, you were with Charles and Hank, in his basement and asking for his help. He smiled to himself when he thought of how you’d been just as confused as him at the time.

You had no control over your telekinesis back then, similarly to now as you sat playing a board game with the twins, lights would flicker when you laughed and the very ground you walked on would shake if you got angry enough.

“Her mutation, it’s strong.” Wanda commented breezily as if it were nothing, floating through the kitchen going about her business as Peter’s eyes never left your form.

With a sigh he murmured, “She’s powerful, Wands. Trust me when I tell you that this whole thing could come crashing down if you don’t let her access her mutation.”

Wanda paused, her jaw clenched. With a flick of her wrist the panel that was allowing Peter to gaze at you from his place in the kitchen shut in his face. He turned to face Wanda then, an incredulous look on his face.

“What do you mean.” Peter only let out a tired laugh.

He shook his head, “Why did you let her in in the first place? You could’ve kept her out if you didn’t want her here.”

“She came for you, Pietro. You were the only thing on her mind. I didn’t realise she had power until I’d let her in.” She seethed, glaring at Peter.

“Maybe this was a mistake…” Wanda began, clenching and unclenching her hands as she considered her next actions. Noticing her uncertainty, Peter stood up and approached her as she spoke, “I should send her back.”

Panic flooded the speedster and before his sister could so much as move a finger he grabbed both of her hands in his, “No!” He shouted, desperately.

“Please don’t. I’ll look after her, just… just don’t take her away from me. Not again.” He begged, shaking his head frantically and Wanda knew in that moment that sending you away would create more problems than it would solve.

With a steady nod Wanda squeezed her brother’s hands, “She’ll stay here. But she’s your responsibility now. If she becomes a problem she’ll have to go.” His sister explained causing Peter to once again nod his head frantically.

“There’s an empty house next door. It’s yours, take her home, she’s tired I can tell.” Peter left the kitchen without another word, a smile on his face as if the conversation with Wanda hadn’t shook him to his core.

When he entered the living room he watched fondly as Billy tried to impress you and Tommy sat contently beside you. Wanda had released you from her influence and you were simply fighting sleep while simultaneously keeping the twins occupied. Even without your mutation, Peter knew you were a superhero.

“Alright, nerds. Stop bugging my girl.” Peter walked casually to the couch and pulled you up gently, kissing your temple like he had done earlier, “Let’s go home, sweetheart.”

When he pulled away you were looking at him, your expression somewhat defeated, “Home?” That’s right, he reminded himself, you didn’t know where home was.

He nodded gently, interlocking your fingers with his and led you to the front door.

“Bye boys!” He called over his shoulder, not bothering with a proper goodbye tonight.

True to her word, the house next door was vacant and ready for the couple to move into. As soon as the front door was shut Peter attached his lips to yours, feverishly moving his hands to your cheeks as you melted against him.

“I’ve been looking for you for so long.” You croaked, pulling away, select memories had began to return upon meeting his lips.

Completely overwhelmed you nuzzled your cheeks into his palms when tears began to leak from your eyes. Peter pulled you closer, bringing his forehead to rest against yours, “I know, baby. But I’m right here, I’ve got you.”

His words had only served to push you further towards the edge and you gripped his wrists to keep his hands in place, using him as an anchor. He shushed you gently once the picture frames nailed to the wall began to clatter against the plaster while you struggled to even out your breathing.

“I couldn’t think, Pete. I couldn’t- I couldn’t keep her out. There’s something so wrong here, we need to get out- we have to get out.” You rambled, tears streaming down your face now as the panic Wanda had pushed away from you earlier now manifested into a full blown panic attack.

“Hey, hey, hey, Y/n, look at me, okay? Neither of us are under her control right now, you’re safe, you’re with me and I’m not going to let her so much as flick her wrist at you, do you understand me?” He spoke steadily and sternly, caressing your face so gently as if he was afraid you’d break.

After a second or two, the walls stopped shaking and you let Peter guide you to the stairs and into a double room. Carefully, he undressed you and redressed you into the shirt he’d been sleeping in, something in him just knowing being surrounded by his scent would calm you down.

Your hands snaked around his waist after he finished getting himself changed, with a content sigh you pressed your lips against his shoulder before pulling away to look into his eyes, “You’re sure you’re okay?”

Peter nodded his head, eyes softening at your concern, “M’better now.”

Before you could respond Peter had zoomed the pair of you into the floral double bed. He lay on his back, his silver hair sprawled against the pillow and his eyes looking at you contently. You gazed at him from your space against his chest, your body completely flush to his, the arm he had wrapped around your waist making you feel safe.

He hummed in approval as your finger lazily traced his jaw, he grinned dorkily, he watched your eyes fluttering open and shut as you struggled to stay awake. Peter wrapped both arms around you tightly, pulling you up ever so slightly to let your face rest against the crook of his neck.

“I love you, Y/n.” He whispered when he felt your fingers toying with his hair gently.

You hummed, pecking the skin of his neck, “I love you, Peter. Or should I say Pietro?” He couldn’t stop his chuckle when he felt your lips form into a smirk as you continued to peck lightly at his neck.

Peter shook his head, his hands moving up and down your back, slowly and softly as he told you, “Nah, I just wanna be Peter with you. You’re the only person in this wacko town who knows who I am.”

“We’ll get out… and then we can go back to being whoever we were before we ended up here.” You spoke sleepily, but honestly, he knew you believed what you were saying.

He wanted to ask why you’d put yourself in this situation but he knew why. And he knew he’d follow you into anything like this too.

Maybe he shouldn’t have been proud of the love the pair of you shared, considering it had landed you in a borderline tyrannical suburbia. But even a barrier that wiped memories, a witch who could bend time, space and the very reality around her couldn’t keep the two of you apart.

Neither of you knew what would happen in the future but that didn’t matter so long as you had each other. As your breath evened out against his neck Peter promised himself that he’d find a way to get you both out, get everyone out.

[no--envies]

I think Jin Guangyao’s backstory makes him a really compelling antagonist. The first few times his name appears in the novel, he’s presented as the current leader of the Jin Sect, “the only illegitimate son whom Jin GuangShan approved of” (chapter 11) and whose merits allowed him to become Chief Cultivator, the highest position of power in the cultivation world. The more we learn about him, the more we realize the situation wasn’t that simple.

As we’re repeatedly shown through Empathy, Meng Yao’s life wasn’t easy at all. When he was young, he was scorned by everyone for his lowly background no matter what he did. Even the other prostitutes in the brothel where he grew up made fun of his mother's delusion that one day Jin Guangshan would give her and her son a better life. Even Mo Xuanyu, another illegitimate son, was treated better than him by Jin Guangshan, because his mother came from a good family. “At least Jin GuangShan still remembered that he had such a son and brought him back to Koi Tower” (chapter 48), while Meng Yao and his mother were completely abandoned.

After his mother died, Meng Yao went to find his father, but of course he wasn’t received. Instead, he was kicked down the stairs of Koi Tower and rolled down the steps from top to bottom. How did he react to this affront?

Allegedly, he didn’t say anything after he got up. Wiping away the blood on his forehead, then dusting off the dirt that got onto his clothes, he picked up his belongings and walked away.

(Chapter 48)

We always see him react like this against adversity. He never gets angry, never yells, never vents his frustration in any way. We don’t know what kind of feelings he harbors in his heart. This is much more terrifying than Nie Mingjue’s volatile temper.

After this, Meng Yao didn’t give up at all. If anything, this experience gave him more determination to see his and his mother’s dream fulfilled. He didn’t have strong spiritual powers because he had started cultivating too late, but he was gifted with a keen mind and a lot of resourcefulness. He was refused by the Jin Sect, so he went to the Nie. He managed to attract Nie Mingjue’s attention by doing the things he knew Nie Mingjue would approve of, like helping civilians during the war. We don’t know how much of it was due to his own concern for the well-being of the common people. On one hand, Jin Guangyao built the watchtowers to help people in the most remote areas, despite meeting a lot of opposition for it, both from his father and the other sects. On the other hand, he used innocent prostitutes to murder his father and then killed them, so he doesn’t seem to actually care about the common people. I think most of his actions while he was in the Nie Sect were calculated to make the sect leader notice him.

Nie Mingjue’s righteousness made him stand up for Meng Yao when he heard people bad-mouthing him. Nie Mingjue had his flaws and a black-and-white morality, but he was fair to his subordinates and gave credit where it was due. He showed his appreciation for Meng Yao’s hard work and attitude by appointing him as his deputy. Meng Yao’s situation in the Nie Sect of course wasn’t ideal and he struggled to be accepted (the scene with the cultivators refusing to drink from the teacups served by the “son of a prostitute” was telling), but being the sect leader’s deputy was the highest position he could have achieved only through his merits. I believe that if he had decided to stop there and be satisfied with what he already had - a good position, two sect leaders who supported him - his life would have been much happier.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. Meng Yao’s past, coupled with his habit of bottling up his emotions and remembering every affront he received, had made him accumulate years of pent-up resentment. Nie Mingjue offered him the opportunity to go where he wanted instead of using Meng Yao’s debt of gratitude to keep him by his side. He even wrote him a letter of recommendation to give to Jin Guangshan so that he could be appointed to a good position in the Jin Sect. However, Jin Guangshan didn’t even meet Meng Yao. He completely ignored his presence and even feigned ignorance when Nie Mingjue went to inquire about him. In that kind of environment, even Meng Yao’s superiors could get away with taking credit for Meng Yao’s achievements. When Nie Mingjue went to look for him, he caught him precisely while he was taking revenge.

What Meng Yao did that time was definitely questionable. Even in a world like MDZS where revenge is completely justified, Meng Yao went too far by murdering his superior for stealing his credit. The problem is that in the Jin Sect, Meng Yao didn’t have anyone he could complain to for his superior’s wrongdoings. His father couldn’t care less about him and everyone else secretly rejoiced to see him struggling: in a society where birthright was everything, the son of a prostitute was lower than them even though his father was a sect leader. Nie Mingjue told him to confess his crime and accept the punishment the Jin Sect would give him, but that was like sealing his fate. There was no way Jin Guangshan would judge him fairly. The mere son of a prostitute daring to murder a respected member of the Jin Sect? Meng Yao would have been lucky if they didn’t execute him on the spot. Nie Mingjue didn’t consider all of this because his rigid mentality prevented him from seeing the nuance in Meng Yao’s situation. He thought that if Meng Yao truly had his reasons for killing his superior, the Jin Sect would acknowledge it. He didn’t take classism into consideration because he couldn’t see past his own privilege.

Nie Mingjue’s mentality was too black-and-white, but he wasn’t completely wrong, either. In that moment he caught a glimpse of Meng Yao’s true nature: that of a schemer and a manipulator. From that moment on, Nie Mingjue could never trust Meng Yao again like he had done in the past. He didn’t completely give up on him, though: after the end of the Sunshot Campaign, when Meng Yao was finally recognized by his father and became Jin Guangyao, Nie Mingjue accepted to become sworn brothers with him because he wanted to bring him back to the right path.

At the time Meng Yao had apparently achieved his goal: his father had recognized him and given him a place in Koi Tower, finally acknowledging his merits. However, that was far from the truth. Jin Guangshan had no intention whatsoever of making Jin Guangyao his heir; he gave him the tasks of a servant and made him do the things he wouldn’t dirty his precious heir’s hands with. He ordered Jin Guangyao to get rid of all the obstacles that prevented him from reaching the position of Chief Cultivator, and Jin Guangyao did. Despite this, his father never cared for him and never really accepted him. On top of that, Madam Jin didn’t show an ounce of compassion for the illegitimate son of her husband: she kept venting her frustrations on him as if Jin Guangyao was at fault for her husband’s vices.

Jin Guangyao was mostly isolated in Koi Tower, but somehow he kept believing that someday his father would actually recognize him. What made him lose faith completely was what Jin Guangshan said about his mother:

“Why was a sect leader who spent money like water unwilling to do the smallest favor and buy my mother’s freedom? Simple—it was too much trouble. My mother waited for so many years, weaving together so many difficult circumstances when she talked to me, imagining for his sake so many hardships. And the real reason was only a single word: trouble.

“This is what he said, ‘It’s especially women who’ve read some books who think they’re a level higher than other women. They’re the most troublesome, with so many demands and unrealistic thoughts. If I bought her freedom and took her back to Lanling, who knows how much fuss she’d make. It was best that I let her stay where she was just like that. With her conditions, she’d probably be popular for a few more years. She wouldn’t have to worry about her spendings for the rest of her life.’

“‘Son? Oh, forget it.’”

(Chapter 106)

Jin Guangyao did a lot of despicable things in his life. He had the chance to stop and be happy with what he had so many times, but he never did. He kept obeying his horrible father’s wishes and sacrificing innocent people for the sake of his own ambition. He had a lot of talents and skills he could have used to do good, but he wasn’t a good person.

His backstory does an excellent job at explaining his behavior and motivations. It makes him a complex character, far from one-dimensional, and I think it’s great that the ultimate villain of the story is a character like him. Jin Guangyao’s evil deeds weren’t justified in the least, but spoke of a resentment born from real struggles and the desire to climb the social ladder to prove that even someone like him - the son of a prostitute, scorned and ridiculed by everyone - could reach the top of the cultivation world.

[cutesuki--bakugou]

Anything, For You

This is a continuation of Anything. Please be sure to read that part first if you want some context!

Rating:  Explicit

Warnings: Rough Sex (Vaginal and Anal), Threesome (Double Penetration), Weed / Alcohol Use, Rough Oral Sex (blow job, face fucking), Public Foreplay, Public Humiliation, Spanking, Choking, Obsessive Reader, Toxic / Power Imbalanced Relationship, Emotional Manipulation, Suggested Dubcon / Reluctant / Compliant Reader

Words: 12,128

Pairing: Drummer!Bakugou Katsuki x Superfan!Fem!Reader x Guitarist!Kirishima Eijirou

Quirkless, Punk rock band AU

Not specifically written for, but using it for the @bnhabookclub​​ ‘s members bingo event!

Crossed off: Threesome

Bingo Masterlist

BTW, please blacklist the tag cutesuki-lemons if you do not want to see this content from my blog. I will no longer be tagging with specific keywords for this type of content.Thank you~

Due to the nature of this post, the characters are 18+

Art in banner by me

Tag list: @lady-bakuhoe​ , @gallickingun​ , @unbreakableeiji​ , @boom-bakugou​ , @honeytama​ , @wakaoujisenhime​ , @ikinabi​ , @thotpatrolcaptain​ , @1-800-callmekatsuki​ , @tomurasprincess​ , @bratwritings​ 

You nervously tightened your grip on the small clutch in your hands, digging your nails into the faux leather and ignoring the sting of the metal pointed studs against your skin. For a few minutes now, you had just been standing outside of the club Garden, listening to the loud music and watching the flashing neon lights every time the door opened. With each group of people leaving, stumbling out drunk and high off adrenaline from dancing, the same amount were let in from an insanely long line, which even curved around the building to where you couldn’t see. There were so many people waiting to go in, and yet, you knew that you could just bypass this line and go on in. 

Why were you so nervous? 

It wasn’t the thought that you would be glared or yelled at by the people waiting if you skipped the line. Sure, it might make you a bit embarrassed if they picked at you, but that wasn’t the problem. No, it was who was waiting inside the club and who gave you that exact privilege to just come on in that terrified you. 

Bakugou 10:50 pm: come to the club Garden downtown around 1 am. just show your ID at the door and theyll let you in past the line. 

Me 10:51 pm: Just me? 

Bakugou 10:51 pm: just you, babe. your shitty friends arent invited. 

After releasing a trembling breath, you opened your clutch to take a quick look at your phone, giving a small groan at the time that showed 1:02 am. It was time to go in, but you were so damn nervous. How could you not be? Showing up to a strange and very crowded club, to hang out and drink with your favorite people - or, well, person - on this planet? With what happened earlier that night, you knew that any type of debauchery could go down, and the stinging welts on your asscheek were testament to that. But there was going to be way more involved. More people, alcohol, and most likely some type of drugs, for sure. You knew that you’d need to be vigilant, but being in Bakugou’s presence again, you weren’t sure you’d have the willpower to say no to anything that was handed your way. 

Suddenly, your phone buzzed in your hand, startling you enough to make you jump and almost lose your balance on your chunky, boot style platform heels. Looking at the screen, the fire in your cheeks grew hotter, reading the text that Bakugou had just sent you. 

Bakugou 1:03 am: where are you at, babygirl? scared? 

Me 1:03 am: No, I’m about to come in. There’s… a lot of people.

Bakugou 1:04 am: fuck them and come inside. there’s someone waiting to bring you up.

Releasing a trembling breath, you put your phone back in your clutch and pulled out your ID instead, gathering your courage to walk up to the front door. One of the two bouncers immediately looked down at you with a threatening posture, though his demeanor changed at the sight of your timid presence. 

“Skipping the line?” 

“I… have VIP permissions. From Bakugou Katsuki… I’m [f/n] [l/n]. He said I should be on a list.” 

Taking your ID, the bouncer first checked it over with a flashlight to confirm its authenticity, before picking up a clipboard that was resting on a stool beside him. It only took him a moment before finding your name, smiling and giving a nod. “Yep, there you are. Follow me.” Putting the clipboard down and handing you the ID back, he made his way through the front door, at first holding it open for some people leaving before allowing you through. 

Any objections you may have heard from the people in line were immediately drowned out by the music, the heavy beat shaking the ground. It was quite dark in the large industrial style building, with only blacklights and flashing neon skylights illuminating the dancefloor. Though, up one floor, you could see a loft area with mostly regular lighting, though it was dimmed, and you wondered if that’s where you would be going. 

Following the bouncer as he made his way past, you used his impressive height and size to push through the crowds, since he was easily able to part the sea of bouncing drunken bodies. He led you to the stairs, as you had expected, and started to make his way up, only giving you a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure you were still following. Or to make sure that no one else was coming up, either. You weren’t sure. 

As you made your way up, you felt a bit embarrassed that the stairway was mostly exposed, using your free hand to hold your short dress up against your backside to hopefully keep anyone from seeing anything private. You weren’t wearing any hose this time, since the only ones you had brought with you into town for the concert were the fishnets that Bakugou had destroyed earlier. Your only cute pair of underwear had also been destroyed, so right after the concert, you had to hunt some down. All you could find at the only store still open was a pair of cute little lace boy short style panties, which were quite sexy and were decently invisible under your dress. You knew that they would be, since you got them from a damn porn shop. There was nothing else open at midnight, so there was no choice. It still ended up perfect, though. If something else did end up happening, you assumed he would like them. Or you hoped so. 

The closer you got to the loft, you realized that it was actually surrounded by glass. The only thing that was solid was the door, which was opened after a loud series of knocks from the bouncer. After a click, another man opened it up, glancing first at your guide before down to you. “She’s invited?” 

“Yes. [f/n] [l/n]. Bakugou’s guest.” Stepping aside, the bouncer and what appeared to be a security guard allowed you inside, the door shutting immediately once you passed the threshold. The sudden volume difference of the room startled you a bit, as did the change in lighting, but you were quick to take in your surroundings. 

There were multiple couches and chairs scattered about in strategic locations, along with tables that were already piled up with drinks. The room was much smaller than it seemed, with only one other door along the back solid wall, which you assumed was a bathroom. Then, your eyes landed on the men you adored, and your entire body instantly flushed with heat as you noticed all their eyes on you. 

“Your clutch, ma’am?” 

The security guard pulled you out of your stupor, holding his hand out in front of you. Nervously, you placed it in his hand, watching as he placed it in a bag behind him and zipped it up. Immediately after, he ran some type of long beeping device across the front and back of your body about an inch away, which you assumed was a metal detector. When it didn’t go off, he allowed you to walk further in with a wave of his hand, and you timidly stepped forward while pulling down your dress, clearing your throat a bit in awkwardness. 

“Hey there, babygirl.” Bakugou spoke with a sly smirk on his face, holding a glass of dark colored liquor near his lips. “Finally made it. Took you fucking long enough.” 

“Sorry…” Making your way towards the couch he was on, you took a moment to look at the other members, trying to control the nervous swirling of your stomach. “Nice to see you all again…” 

“You were in our first meet up group, right?” Midoriya smiled at you, placing his hand on the thigh of a curvaceous woman that was placed firmly on his lap. His voice was still quite strained and cracked, worn from the performance. “Kacchan told me he invited someone, but he didn’t tell me who!” 

“Because it’s none of your damn business, Deku,” With a snap of his finger as he held his hand out towards you, Bakugou commanded you over to him silently. Not even taking a second to think about it, you approached, taking his hand. He led you with only a gentle pull to stand between his legs, placing both of his hands on your outer thighs. “You look good, babygirl.” 

“T-thank you-” You were cut off by the sound of a door closing, along with an annoyed whine. 

“Aww, what the fuck?! Even Bakugou was able to get a girl this time, and he never does! I must have really sucked today.” Huffing, Kaminari shuffled his way towards an empty armchair, flopping down to sit with his legs stretched out in front of him, toes pointed towards the ceiling. “Bullshit.” 

“You suck all the time, dunceface.” 

“I do not! All the girls wanted me at our last gig.” 

“Yeah, because both Deku and Kirishima were out of commission after that, so they had no other option. Don’t be such a little bitch, if you want girls, go fucking dance.” Although Bakugou’s snappy demands were directed at his companion, his glazed over crimson eyes never left your body. They scanned over every inch of you quite diligently, as if he were missing you greatly just from these few hours apart. Unsure of what to do with your hands, you let one rest tenderly on his bicep while running the other softly through his bangs, pulling the fair blonde hair loose of the light grip of sweat that stuck it to his skin. You weren’t sure if it was the lighting in the room or maybe his intoxication, but you could have sworn that you could see the tips of his ears flush with your touch. 

“But I don’t want to go dance alone!” Kaminari whined, sinking further into the chair. His voice broke your concentration on the man in front of you, looking at the pouting bass player over your shoulder. It was odd, you thought, that there weren’t as many girls in here as you expected. Actually, there was only you and the girl with Midoriya, whose attention was fully on him, hands on his freckled cheeks and playfully squishing them together. Her bobbed brunette hair gave away who she was, as you had seen her in many of his social media postings, but you couldn’t quite remember her name. All you knew was that they were dating and had been friends for a very long time, but that didn’t really matter right now. 

Kirishima sighed, resting his arms up over the back of the couch, his hand pulling your attention as it came to rest decently close to Bakugou’s head, though the drummer didn’t protest or seem to even notice. “C’mon, man, don’t be such a downer! I think you need to take another hit and get down there. Take Todoroki with you.” 

Kaminari scoffed, looking over at the silent member of their band, who was more focused on his phone and his fancy martini looking drink than anything they were talking about. “What, so he can go stand in the middle of the dancefloor like a weirdo? He doesn’t have any dancing rhythm! He barely moves when we’re performing!” 

“Yeah, but girls like him more than you, he’d help you catch their attention.” 

“Now you’re all just being assholes!” Huffing, Kaminari sat up and leaned forward, snatching up a small glass pipe and the lighter beside it. “It’s not my fault that no one likes the bass players! I’m not as cool as you!” 

“Hey, I’ve offered to play bass sometimes.” Kirishima grinned, reaching over to scratch the side of his nose. “But Bakugou won’t let us switch--” 

“Fuck no.” Bakugou interrupted, now glowering at his friends, both of his strong hands resting on your hips firmly. “That’s too much power I’m not willing to give you, dunceface.” 

“Rude.” Grumbling under his breath, Kaminari glared down at the pipe as he brought it to his lips, lighting it up and taking a hit. The smell of weed hit your nose immediately as he exhaled, the cloud of smoke leaving his lips slowly as he leaned back in the chair. “Midoriya would.” 

“Because he’s a dipshit.” 

“You’re so aggressive today! I think you’re the one that needs a hit, bro.” 

“Fuck that shit. I’m not looking to fall asleep any time soon.” 

“You’re up way past your bedtime, anyway. Grandpa.” Passing the pipe and lighter over to Kirishima as he beckoned for it, Kaminari gave a sly smirk, knowing he could press Bakugou’s buttons while you were in his way. You could feel Bakugou’s grip tighten in irritation and see his brows furrow, but to your surprise, he was quick to calm, giving an annoyed click of his tongue as he used only slight pressure to pull you to the side, gesturing to the couch for you to sit. You did so, now effectively squished between the two men, one taking a hit while the other gulped down what was left of his drink. 

If you were honest, you felt quite… awkward. You didn’t really know what to do with yourself and you weren’t sure if talking would be welcomed. You were new to this tight knit group, and even though you admired and adored every single one of them, you almost felt like you didn’t belong there. Were you really worthy of being in their presence like this or being so close to Bakugou as he rested an arm around your shoulders, pulling you up against his side? It felt like a dream, and you were horrified that at any moment, you would wake up to find yourself lonely in your hotel bed. 

“Want a hit, sweetheart?” 

Your thoughts were disrupted by Kirishima’s pleasant ringing voice, his smile soft and comforting as he held the pipe and lighter towards you. At first, you hid your face a bit behind Bakugou’s forearm, fiddling with your nails. “I’ve never done it before… I probably shouldn’t.” 

“Aw c’mon, you should! You’re safe here with us! That’s pretty cool, too, isn’t it? To have you first hit ever with your favorite band.” Kirishima’s eyes left yours for a moment as he glanced up, most likely at Bakugou, though there wasn’t anything malicious that you could see. He was genuinely being very nice about it, and so far, no one had protested. Still, you looked up at Bakugou for approval, a sly smirk crossing his lips when you did so. 

“What, babygirl? Looking for permission?” 

Feeling heat rush to your cheeks at his domineering tone, you nodded. “Yes. Is it okay?” 

“What do you say?” His rough fingers took hold of your chin, tilting your head up as he leaned in, whisky tainted lips brushing against yours. Your heart began to race, chest heaving with steady, heavy breaths as you parted your lips expectantly. But, you were left with nothing until you answered, and you did so without a second thought or worry about what anyone else in the room might think. 

“Please, Katsuki.” 

A low hum resonated in his chest in satisfaction of your response, pressing his hot lips against yours to reward you for being so obedient. Or, at least, that’s how you understood it. In the few hours that you had been away from him, there hadn’t been a single moment of lucidness where you felt like you had escaped whatever hold he had placed on you. In fact, your wanting to be at his side only grew worse, to hear him praise you and reward you when you were a good girl for him. 

His praise. His touch. His attention. All of it was so intoxicating, and you wanted more. 

When he set your lips free after just a short moment, it took only a light bump to your chin to have you turn your head to look back at Kirishima, who was waiting patiently. He was still smiling, but there was a mischievous gleam in his eye, as if he had been waiting to see just how obedient you still were. It was gone with a blink, his pleasant and cheerful demeanor taking over as he held the pipe up between his fingers. 

“Yeah? Gonna do it, sweetheart?” 

“Sure,” You answered meekly, turning a bit more to face him. “Uhm… How do I do it?” 

Kirishima was very thorough in his explanation of how to use the pipe, and by the time he was done, you felt confident that you could do it. Though, your confidence didn’t amount to much, as you still ended up with quite the coughing fit after your first hit. Behind the coughing and burning in your throat, you could hear Kaminari gasp out in surprise, though you couldn’t quite focus on him yet through the smoke. 

“Holy shit, Kirishima, you should have just prepped it for her, that’s gonna fuck her up!” 

Chuckling, Kirishima handed you a cup of water, which you gulped down eagerly. “She’s fine, that wasn’t that bad! A little too aggressive on sucking it in, but you’ll get it down. You okay?” He gave your thigh a few comforting pats, his lingering on your bare skin not quite registering in your mind as you tried to calm the burning in your throat. Thankfully, it was fading decently quick, but it still wasn’t anything like what you had expected. 

“I’m okay,” You choke out after a moment, placing both the glass of water and the pipe down on the coffee table in front of you. “You guys make it look so easy!” 

“That’s because they’re fucking potheads.” Bakugou pulled you back up against him. “Especially Dunceface over there. Can’t go five minutes without being high.”

“Don’t be telling lies about me, Kacchan.” Kaminari waddled a finger at his friend, and you could tell that he was feeling pretty relaxed compared to a while ago. “It’s more like three minutes.” 

“Shut up. Where the fuck’s our bartender? We haven’t gotten new drinks-” 

“-Let’s go down, then!” Kaminari hopped up to his feet, clapping his hands together to try and get his friends riled up. “Let’s get some drinks and dance like we’re normal people, no one’s gonna recognize us down there, it’s too dark! This VIP shit gets boring sometimes. Right, Todoroki?” With a bounce in his step, he walked over behind the couch his quiet friend was sitting on, giving him a firm smack on the shoulders. “You’re just over here on your phone! Let’s go dance!” 

Todoroki took his friend shaking him from side to side like a champ, not looking away from his phone or spilling his drink. “I’ll sit at the bar, but I’m not going to dance.” 

“You will after a couple of shots. Midoriya? Ochaco?” 

 “Let’s go, Deku!” Hopping up off his lap, the brunette took both of Midoriya’s hands, trying to pull him up with meager strength. “Let’s all go!” 

With a heavy sigh in defeat, Midoriya stood, as did Todoroki. Though, there was no movement from either of the two men beside you, so you glanced between them curiously. Kirishima seemed interested, while Bakugou looked like he wanted to throw them all off the balcony just to get some peace. You weren’t sure if it was the excitement of being here, the electric energy from Kaminari, or the hit you had taken, but you really wanted to go. You were feeling restless and, if you were honest, kind of bummed out that you were still the only one who hadn’t had a drop of alcohol. You came here to have a good time with these guys. With Bakugou. But how could you talk him into it? 

“You losers coming or not?” Kaminari barked before you could say a word, glowering at the three of you still plastered on the couch as he stood by the door, waiting for their security guard to unlock it and step out. “Kacchan, you were complaining about drinks, come down and get some with us!” 

“Fuck, fine! If it will shut you up!” 

Everything changed pace in a blink of an eye from that moment. Before you knew it, you had taken two shots of… something, and sucked down a drink faster than you thought you would, all while watching the bouncing bodies on the dance floor with Bakugou at your side. Though, he wasn’t just standing next to you. His arm was hooked around your waist like a vice, his powerful and off-putting presence preventing any man with wandering eyes from even considering trying to come up to you. At first, you felt a bit embarrassed that he was so close and so protective, but you also couldn’t help but feel… flattered. And that flattery brought up a new bubbling in your belly. 

You were so happy. Again, you didn’t know if it was because of the high or the alcohol, but you were absolutely beyond tickled. It was such a strong sensation, in fact, that you couldn’t help but start to bounce on your feet and sway to the music. Your hips bumped into Bakugou’s as he stood beside you, one arm around your shoulders while the other propped him up on the bar counter. With the bump, he tightened his arm around your neck, pulling you in closer to him and pressing his lips against your ear so you could hear him over the blaring music. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Dancing!” You responded near his ear as he turned his head to hear you. “I like this song!” 

“You call that dancing?” With his insult, he moved his arm around your back and gave you a small push forward towards the dance floor, smirking at the confusion on your face when you looked back at him. Taking your drink from your hands, he finished off the last bit of it before leaving it on the counter behind him, giving your ass a tap to guide you forward. Within moments, you were both swallowed by the giant group of sweating, bouncing bodies, all who had little to no care on who they were touching or where they were moving. 

And yet, with Bakugou's arms around your waist from behind, you felt like you were completely enveloped in your own bubble. Just you, him, and the music. What truly snapped your restraint was his deep growl in your ear, tugging your hips tightly back so that your ass was firmly pressed against him. 

“Show me how you can really dance, babygirl.” 

No one would truly call the way you rubbed your bodies against each other to the rhythm of the music “dancing”, but all your body could comprehend in your intoxicated state. The flashing neon lights, from pitch black to strobing, was almost making you dizzy, and the only thing that seemed to alleviate the disorientation was putting all your focus on Bakugou. 

The way you two moved was seamless and in tune, his hands freely roaming your body with no fears of being noticed within the densely packed group. Even if someone did notice, you wouldn’t care. All you cared about was his lips against the skin of your neck, his fingers digging into your plush curves and the hard presence of his cock beneath his pants. Just feeling it against your ass made you remember how good he felt fucking you, the way he filled up every inch of your aching cunt and made you scream for him. 

How he made you his. 

How you would do anything for him. 

How he owned you. 

“Open your eyes, sweetheart.” 

The voice in your ear was a sweet growl; more of a purr to calm and coax you. It was so comforting that you almost forgot where you were for a moment, until you did as you were told. Instead of a group of dancing bodies in front of you, you were met with a clear view of that brilliant, wide grin sported only by Kirishima. He was in front of you, dancing with you and Bakugou together, his hands also firmly on your body to keep you pinned between the two men. 

Your entire body immediately flushed hot, pressing further back against Bakugou to try and get some space between you and the redhead. “K-Kiri-!” 

“Don’t you even think about it.” Bakugou growled in your ear, his hand coming up to wrap around your throat. “Let him touch you.” 

You didn’t have much time to even consider complying before Bakugou moved you both forward, not allowing you any space or chance to dip out from between them. You were trapped. How long had Kirishima even been there? Whose hands had been touching you this entire time, squeezing your breasts and your hips so eagerly? Had it been both of them? Whose hand was that right now, sliding up your thigh and bringing your dress with it. 

What was happening? They couldn’t actually be thinking about touching you here on the dancefloor, could they? In the privacy of the VIP room, maybe, but out here in the middle of all these people? Someone would notice! 

You tried to squeak out a plea to stop, but Bakugou’s hand around your throat stopped any little sound from slipping out. Instead, your hips were pulled forward and snug against Kirishima’s, one of his legs between yours so that you were practically sitting on his thigh. But that wasn’t where your hips were directed. Instead, with the beat of the music, Kirishima rutted his hips against you, and you could easily feel the hard presence of his cock against your scantily clothed sex. He was wearing loose black joggers, so there was basically nothing between you, and with both men surrounding you completely and still moving with the music, there was no hope of someone noticing. 

Needing to ground yourself, you clutched on to both of Kirishima’s biceps, his hands set firmly on your hips. The digging of your nails into his skin only seemed to spur him on further, becoming rougher with his thrusts, and the more he stroked across your clit, the more you began to lose yourself. It felt so good, even though you knew that it shouldn’t. It was Bakugou all over again, fucking your throat raw as your essence dripped down your thighs, just as it was now. Kirishima was using you for his own gratification, and Bakugou was allowing it. This wasn’t okay. 

You clenched your eyes shut tightly as Bakugou’s hands moved to caress your breasts, squeezing them roughly and eagerly pinching your nipples. You heard him groan in your ear, his attention to your nipples increasing as he noticed the little studs in place. “Oh fuck, babygirl, I didn’t know you had piercings here, too. I’m an idiot for not stripping you in the changing room, but I’m not going to make that mistake tonight.” 

His teeth sinking into the skin of your neck and another harsh twist made your body jolt, a moan involuntarily slipping through your lips. Before it could get far, it was devoured by Kirishima, who kissed you passionately to silence you. 

What should I do? It feels good, but… I didn’t want Kirishima like this! 

A rough nibble to your lip forced your mouth open, unable to stop or resist Kirishima's tongue from invading. He tasted like weed and the sour sting of an energy drink still on his lips, but that isn’t what made you want to pull away. Was he… a better kisser than Bakugou? No one could be better than the blonde behind you… at anything! And yet, here Kirishima was, making you completely breathless and absolutely on fire. It wasn’t so brash or dominating, either. 

You loved it. A lot.

A moan leaked through the kiss as Bakugou moved his lips to your ear, running his tongue along the shell of it before nibbling harshly at the delicate skin below. “You like his cock rubbing up against you, baby? You like being pinned between us like the little desperate whore you are?”

Kirishima finally released your lips, giving you a chance to take in deep trembling breaths. “Yes, Katsuki! But I— “

“What?”

“I really have to pee!”

Both men paused with your proclamation, watching your face in confusion as you stood there trembling in their grip. You hadn’t been lying, and it was clear as day in your flushed face. You needed to go to the restroom. If you didn’t, you knew there would be an accident all over yourself and the two men that held you. 

“You’re serious?” Kirishima spoke loudly enough so you could hear him, and you nodded with urgency. After glancing at Bakugou, he took a step back, awkwardly trying to make his boner mostly invisible behind his joggers. “Okay. I’d rather you not piss all over.”

Bakugou turned your head towards him, his glare immediately making your legs feel weak. “He’ll take you upstairs. I’m going to get more drinks and meet you up there. You better not be using this as an excuse, or I’ll have to punish you.”

“I-it’s not, Katsuki, I promise- mmph!” You were silenced as he kissed your lips roughly, his frustration at having to stop apparent. Then, with a rough tap to your ass, you were urged forward and into Kirishima’s arms. You didn’t get a chance to glance back at Bakugou as you were led through the crowd, Kirishima using his height and size to easily push through and bump people out of the way without too much inconvenience to you. Much to your surprise, he was quite attentive of you, pulling you out of the way of wild swinging arms and keeping a firm grip on you in case you were tripped by stray feet. 

By the time you finally reached the stairs, you were completely worn out and feeling like your bladder was about to erupt. Still, you made it up the stairs and into the singular bathroom before you could piss yourself, and as you sat on the toilet, you could truly feel how intoxicated you were. You weren’t sure if your mind was spinning from the alcohol, the weed, or the incredible rush that you had felt on the dancefloor. You could feel, however, that you were incredibly sweaty, your hair sticking to your forehead, cheeks and the back of your neck like it was glued to your skin. Though, the wetness at your cunt and spread across your inner thighs was even worse. 

You couldn’t believe that you had gotten so wet and turned on from what they had done to you. Even your pathetic excuse for underwear was completely soaked through, your essence thick and visible on the black fabric. The way they had cornered you like that wasn’t something that should have excited you so much, yet here you were, trembling and dripping wet. And now, you were caught up here in this room with Kirishima. Who knows how long it might take Bakugou to get the drinks, since the bar was incredibly busy and it had taken nearly fifteen minutes to get yours earlier. 

With a defeated sigh, you wiped and decided to clean yourself up the best you could, even patting your underwear with toilet paper. In the end, the attempt wasn’t very successful, and you almost wanted to rip them back off the instant you pulled them back up to your hips. 

After washing your hands and spending a few minutes fixing your hair and wiping your face and neck of sweat, you left the restroom, finding Kirishima standing near the coffee table with the weed pipe in his hands. He gave you a comforting smile as you approached, taking a hit and blowing the smoke away from you. “Feel better, sweetheart?” 

“Yes… Uhm… Why did-” 

“Want another hit?” Kirishima interrupted you, as if he knew exactly what you were about to ask and wanted to avoid it while he could. “You’re more relaxed now, you’ll get it this time. It’ll calm your nerves, too. You’re trembling like a leaf, babe.”

“I’m… not sure.” 

“You don’t want Bakugou to see you all nervous and uptight, do you?” 

The tone of his voice instantly made your stomach twist, able to hear the slightest twinge of a threat mixed in with the worried question. Of course you didn’t want Bakugou to see you like this. You had just been so peppy and energetic down on the dancefloor, he would surely be annoyed if you grew so timid all the sudden. So, without a word, you took the pipe and lighter, doing everything you could to ignore the twist at the corner of his lips. 

Letting out a trembling breath, you brought the pipe to your lips, able to inhale, hold, and exhale without any urges to cough outside of a slight clearing of your throat. Chuckling, Kirishima took the pipe and lighter from you, setting them down again. “See! Look at you! A natural.” 

“It’s stronger this time.” 

“Yeah, I cleaned it out and prepped it again while you were in the restroom.” As he spoke, you made your way over to the front of the room, looking out of the glass and down at the bar, scanning for the blonde you had left behind. It didn’t take you long to see him, sitting on a stool as he awaited the delivery of the drinks. Though, you instantly felt heat rush to your fluttering stomach, surprised to see that he was already staring up at you. You couldn’t see his expression, but you could almost feel the icy daggers of his glare on your skin. In fact, your entire body was tingling, your mind growing dull while your body felt like every inch of you was being lightly pricked with needles. It was as if you could feel everything. Your hair tickling the back of your neck. Your dress tight against your chest. Your hot and wet underwear clung tightly against your folds and your clit. 

“Find him?” Kirishima nearly startled you enough to make you jump as he came to stand beside you, looking around curiously at all the activity below. “He sticks out like a sore thumb, doesn’t he? Ah, there! He’s already looking up here, too. He’s so into you, babe.” 

“He is…?” 

“Oh yeah. And I can see why.” One of his large hands came to rest against your lower back, stepping in a bit closer to you. “You’re so cute and timid. Obedient.” His hand began to travel down along the curve of your ass, the slight sting of your welts from earlier making you tense and nibble at your lower lip. “Sexy. It’s hard to keep my hands off you.” 

“Katsuki might… get upset if you do anything when he’s not here.” You clutched at the bottom of your dress, trying to keep it down in the front while Kirishima slowly pulled it up from the back. 

“Oh you’re right, he might. Then you’d better not do anything to let him notice, hm? He’s watching us, after all.” His hand began to stroke along your ass, groping and squeezing with a firm grip. “Damn, you have a nice ass.” 

A small squeak escaped your lips as two if his fingers slipped between your cheeks, rubbing your sex on the outside of your underwear. “Kiri… I’m… I don’t want to without Katsuki here.” 

“You sure about that? ‘Cause your wet pussy is telling me otherwise.” With aggressive movements that made you involuntarily take a step closer to the glass, Kirishima moved his hand into your underwear. Without skipping a beat, his middle and ring fingers slid into your wet cunt with ease, forcing a sweet gasp from your lips. “Oh fuck, you’re tight. It’s no wonder Bakugou’s already obsessed after only fucking you once.” 

He began to move his fingers in and out of you, slowly dragging along your inner walls, being sure to keep them curved at just the right angle. Each time he dug them into you, he pressed right into your most sensitive areas, making your entire body tingle and soft moans escape your lips. Though, just as you were about to lean forward and stick your ass out for him, he gave a small hiss in warning. 

“Don’t move, sweetheart. You want him to notice?” He quickened his pace, as if he were trying to get you to give yourself away. Resting his body against the glass using one arm to prop himself up, he appeared completely casual. Since he was turned slightly towards you, he could use this angle for better leverage, digging his fingers into you faster and deeper. “But it’s not just him. Everyone down there can see us.” 

From down below, you were sure that there wasn’t anything suspicious about the two of you, and keeping that facade was completely up to you. Even so, how sensitive your body felt, and the pleasure was already beginning to make your legs weak, so you had to press your hand against the glass to support yourself. Your panting breaths fogged up the clear surface now that you were so close to it, even able to feel your hard nipples rub against the cold. It was so much stimulation so fast that you weren’t sure how long you were going to be able to hold out. 

Whining as you bit down on your bottom lip, you clenched your eyes shut tightly, digging your nails against the glass. “Kiri… please… He’ll notice!” 

“I wonder what he’ll do, then.” He began to alternate between fingering you and rubbing your clit, nearly crippling what little hold you had left on yourself. “He’d punish you, for sure, but I wonder how? Maybe he’ll spank that pretty ass until you’re crying. Or edge you over and over. Or not give you anything at all.” 

“I… please--” A moan cut you off as you began to feel yourself growing closer and closer to your release, placing both of your hands against the glass, now. “Please, I can’t hold it!” 

“Going to cum already? Let’s change it up a bit, then.” 

For a split second, you thought that he was going to completely stop as he removed his fingers from your aching and trembling cunt. Instead, you were met with a jolt of shock through your core as both of his fingers moved to your asshole, beginning to press into you without any warning. You couldn’t stop your hips from arching back towards his hand, your upper body and forehead firmly against the glass. “K-Kiri-!” 

“Ooh, looks like someone like their ass filled up, hm? What a shame Bakugou didn’t play with you here, that little squeak you just made was adorable.” His fingers slid into you up to his knuckles, bending and flexing them apart to make you moan and wiggle. “That’s it, sweetheart. You like your ass fucked?” 

“Y-yes,” you forced your eyes open, looking back down at Bakugou through the dark and flashing neon lights. He was still watching you, but there was something else. With the cover of the dark and his hips turned towards the counter, you could see him palming himself between his legs. Could he tell what was happening? Was he really getting off on it? “Kiri… I think he can tell- ah! Fuck!” Your voice cracked as he began to move his fingers within you, moving at an even quicker and more aggressive pace than he had been before. 

“He can? Well fuck, sweetheart, that means so can all the other people down there.” Kirishima moved in closer, pressing his lips against your flushed cheek, his smirk wide and eyes gleaming with enjoyment. “Can you feel their eyes on you? Watching you get off on me fingering your ass like the good little slut you are. You like being watched, don’t you?”

“I… I don’t want them all to see me! But Katsuki is… he’s watching…” 

“That’s right. He’s watching while I get to play with you. He’s so jealous he can’t help but watch, just waiting for his chance. You like that, don’t you?” 

“Yes… Yes, I like him watching me.” Your body began to rock with his movements, the pleasure building back up rapidly. “Just to know that Katsuki wants me so bad… It makes me so hot!” You couldn’t stop your voice as your hips arched further back, trembling legs spreading a bit. “Please! Please let me cum, Kiri! I want to cum while he watches me!” 

“Yeah, babe, cum all over my fingers. That’s it.” The encouraging grumble of his voice in your ear and the increased speed of his fingers within you immediately made you lose it, gasping and moaning against the glass as you struggled to stay up on your feet. The waves of pleasure that crashed over you were so intense, much more than you had ever felt just from a little assplay, but you didn’t care to try to rationalize why. 

“What a good girl.” Kirishima pressed his lips against your cheek in a playful kiss, removing his fingers and giving your backend a few light smacks. “How about we sit down for a while, hm? You need to relax a bit before Bakugou gets back up here.” 

Pushing yourself up off the glass, you didn’t think about looking for Bakugou again before you followed him over towards the couches on weak legs. You could still feel the remnants of your orgasm pulsing through your body, the slickness that you had wiped away in the bathroom once again coating your thighs and further soaking your underwear. His large, rough fingers had felt so good inside you, and although he had allowed you to cum, you were feeling severely unsatisfied and just all around… needy? Was that the right word to use? You wanted them to touch you, to hold and to praise you. But for now, it seemed as if Kirishima was perfectly content to wait a while, leaving you standing by the couches as he flopped to sit, resting back against the armrest with his legs up casually on the cushions. 

Nearly immediately, your dizzy gaze landed on the very obvious form of his cock beneath his joggers, reminding you immediately of what he had done to you on the dancefloor. Now that you could see it, your stomach fluttered with curiosity and interest, making you crave to have his cock in your hands. Walking over casually, you ignored his curious look as you took a moment to take off your shoes, before settling onto the couch between his legs. For the first time, you saw his cheeks flush, obviously having not expected you to suddenly be so handsy as you palmed along the hard length of his cock. 

“What’s up, sweetheart? Can’t wait?” 

“You’re… bigger than Katsuki?” 

Your question was met with a chuckle, Kirishima’s grin breaking his face as he allowed you to touch him. “Don’t let him hear you admit that. Not by much, but yeah, sure. Take a look.” 

With his permission, you pulled his pants down just enough to allow his cock to spring free, a shocked squeak nearly escaping your throat at the sight of him. It was true, he wasn’t any longer than Bakugou, but his girth was much more impressive. His flushed tip was pierced just as Bakugou’s had been, but he sported a bar through the underside of the blushing head that you recognized as a prince albert. For a moment, you wondered if all the band members had their dicks pierced, but that thought was quickly pushed to the back of your mind as his cock gave an impatient twitch. 

Without much consideration of the consequences, you took it into your hands, beginning to lightly pump and spread his precum around the tip and down his shaft. Kirishima gave a relieved sigh at your touch, resting one arm behind his head so he could relax and watch you. “Ah fuck… that’s it, nice and slow. Why don’t you spit on it a little, huh?” 

Leaning forward, you passionately rolled your tongue around his tip, before pulling back a bit and allowing your saliva to flow freely, using your hand to spread it down his length. The groan he gave made a smile creep across your lips as you sat back up from him, using both of your hands to stroke his cock with a firmer grip. “How’s that?” 

“Incredible. Fuck, babe… Let me see those pretty tits, huh?” 

Since your dress had low cut sleeves to begin with, it was easy for you to slip your arms out of them, before pulling the fabric down to expose your breasts to him. Not wearing a bra, they slipped easily from the tight dress, revealing your hard nipples and cute jeweled piercings. Leaning forward a bit closer to him, you continued to stroke his cock with the soft plushness of your chest around him, watching his face closely for any sign of approval. His usually smug or cheerful expression was hazed over with lust, crimson eyes watching your every move. He looked so cute and innocent, just like the man you had always seen on social media, and you loved that you had reduced him back to being his softer self just with a touch and a flash of your tits. 

Scooting your hips back a bit and propping yourself up on your knees, you leaned in and took him fully into your mouth, starting with just a sweet tease to his tip before taking him all the way down to the base. Kirishima immediately groaned and tensed beneath you, his large hand coming down to rest on the back of your head, gathering up your hair to keep it out of the way for you. “Oh fuck, damn it! Look at you, taking my cock so well. Such a good girl-” 

Suddenly, the sound of the door opening startled you both and you nearly gagged from the sudden pressure Kirishima put on the back of your head. Unable to move and unable to see, all you could do was listen to the booming voice from behind you while you tried to find some room to breathe with the cock down your throat. 

“You horny fuckers couldn’t even wait until I got back?” Bakugou’s voice was followed by the sound of the door slamming shut, along with the click of the lock. “I spend all that fucking time down there getting drinks for us and you decide to fool around without me?!” 

“Hey man, I didn’t start this! She wanted to suck my dick herself. Oh shit, sorry, sweetheart!” Kirishima released your head as you whined and wiggled to try and get yourself free, allowing you to come up. Coughing, you glowered up at Kirishima as you placed a hand over your throat, spitting the excess saliva that had gathered in your mouth onto his cock in retaliation. 

“Oh did she?” Bakugou came up behind you, putting the drinks down on the table before taking a hold of your hair and pulling you back so you were looking up at him. “And what about that little show you put on against the windows? Whose idea was that?” 

Your face flushed, stomach bubbling nervously as your fears that he could tell were confirmed. And yet, you only grew hotter, biting down onto your bottom lip as you peered up at him though your lashes. For a moment, you considered lying and saying that you had started it all, just to see what he would do, but the ever honest Kirishima spoke up first. 

“I couldn’t help it, man. She has a nice ass. But I didn’t tell her to act all obvious, she just couldn’t control herself.” 

“That’s because she’s nothing but a slut.” Still using his grip on your hair, Bakugou forced you back down so that your lips were pressed against the wet tip of Kirishima’s cock, not giving you any other choice but to open your mouth and take him in. Again, your head was forced all the way down to his pelvis, your nose pressing against his skin. As you whined, your eyes began to tear up from the pressure and uncomfortable presence deep in your throat, digging your nails into Kirishima’s hips to try and stop him from shifting beneath you. 

Struggling to breathe through your nose, you could feel your dress being pushed up around your hips, Bakugou’s free hand gripping your ass and spreading you open with no regard for the stinging welts he had left earlier that night. “Fuck, what the hell are these? Did you expect to get fucked tonight, baby?” His rough fingers stroked along your lace panties, before pulling them down away from your hips and to your thighs. “Look how fucking wet you are, too. Did that moron make you cum?” 

When he released your head, you pulled up slowly, gazing up at Kirishima to watch his flushed face and listen to his groans. Once your lips left him, you didn’t bother to spit or clean up the thick saliva and precum that dribbled from your tongue, using it to instead stroke him firmly with both hands. “Yes, Katsuki,” You choked out through your sore throat, arching your hips further up as Bakugou gripped your ass with both hands, spreading you open to watch your twitching cunt. “He made me cum while you watched. While the whole club could see.” 

“Did you like that I was watching?” Bakugou ran his thumb in slow circles against your clit. “Did that get you off, you nasty fuck?” 

“Mm, yes-” Your pace quickened, almost hypnotized by the way Kirishima reacted to your touch as Bakugou teased you. “I loved it.” 

“And how did he make you cum, huh?” The sound of a zipper and shifting clothing was lost behind his voice and the pounding in your ears. As your lips pressed against the tip of Kirishima’s cock to prepare to take him again, a moan interrupted you, your hips arching back up into Bakugou’s touch as two of his fingers slipped into your wet pussy. “Did he finger your slutty cunt?” 

“Yes,” Spurred on by the pleasure, you ran your tongue up and down along Kirishima’s throbbing shaft, your free hand pushing his joggers further down out of the way so you could cup and massage his balls. Kirishima gave a grunt, reaching down to dig his fingers into your hair again. 

“C’mon, sweetheart, tell him the truth.” 

“The truth? Tch, I bet I know what he did.” Removing his fingers from within you, they both slid up to your asshole, sinking in with ease and making your entire body shudder with a moan. “Your ass, huh? I should have fucking known. Fine, then.” Shifting his hips closer, you could feel the presence of his cock between your cheeks when he removed his hand, gripping your hips instead. “Let me fill up this slutty little hole for you.” 

Before you could truly ground yourself, the tip of his thick cock slipped into your asshole with just as much ease as his fingers, forcing a sharp gasp from your lips. Biting down onto your bottom lip as he sunk in inch by inch, you buried your face into Kirishima’s pelvis, your entire body trembling. Just as before, his size was more than you had ever taken before in either hole, and he left you feeling full and breathless. 

“K-Katsuki--!” 

“That’s right, babygirl. Moan my fucking name.” With a rough snap of his hips to start his quick pace, you cried out against Kirishima’s skin, your hand leaving his cock to instead dig your nails into his toned stomach. “How’s my fat cock feel, huh? Stretching your tight asshole-- ah fuck, baby!” As you constricted around him in response to the pleasure and his filthy mouth, he only fucked you faster and harder, his balls slapping against your clit and sending jolts of hot white pleasure through your body. 

For a while, you were completely engrossed in the feeling of his cock inside you, until a smack of Kirishima’s cock to your cheek reminded you that he was still here, too. Although it was nearly impossible for you to hold back your voice, you sat up and took his cock into your mouth again, using the pleasure to push yourself harder to please him more aggressively. 

“Ah shit! Damn!” Kirishima once again gripped onto your head, but with both hands this time. “Wait, wait! Hold still-” Using his grip on your head, he shifted his legs a bit, using new leverage to begin thrusting his hips up to fuck your mouth at his own pace. Completely at their mercy, you supported yourself with your arms against the couch, your eyes once again tearing up from the rough throat fucking and pleasure abusing your mind. The moans and filthy, lewd wet noises that came from your mouth were uncontrollable, as was the saliva and tears that coated Kirishima’s cock. 

It was painful.

It was hot. 

It was an absolute dream. 

And yet, you wanted more. You wanted these men to completely destroy you, to leave you as nothing but a twitching mess leaking their cum. 

“Want to swallow my cum, sweetheart?” 

With Kirishima’s question, you found the chance to try and get your way, giving a miniscule shake of your head as you reached up to try and push his hands off you. Bakugou scoffed, not letting up on his pace. 

“The fuck? Just cum, don’t ask her-” 

“Shut up, man, she’s trying to say something,” Allowing you up off his cock, you took a moment to cough, which was difficult behind your urge to moan and gasp in air. 

“I want both of your cocks inside me!” You finally choked out when you had a chance, gazing up at Kirishima with your flushed, teary and begging expression. “Please fill me up with both of your cocks! I need them!” A squeak escaped your lips as Bakugou grabbed you by the arms, pulling you up against his chest as his hand wrapped around your neck. 

“Beg harder,” He growled in your ear, one hand gripping your breast as he fucked you harder. For a moment, your mind went blank with the pleasure, unsure of what you had even wanted outside of Bakugou’s dick buried so deep inside of you. The pleasure in your core was near cracking, and as you looked down at Kirishima to see him pumping his own cock at the sight of you being ruined, it only spiked higher. 

“I want you to both fuck me! Please! Please, Katsuki, I’m begging you! I-- aah, fuck! Fuck!” Leaning your head back, it wasn’t another second before you came hard, your body tensing in his grip and rocking back against his hips as they also came to a stop from how hard you squeezed around him. Giving a low growl in satisfaction, Bakugou held your body tightly back against him, digging his cock as deep into you as he could get with a light bucking of his hips. 

“Oh fuck, babygirl, that’s it. Such a naughty bitch, cumming from being fucked in the ass like that. And you still want more, huh?” Bakugou spoke low in your ear, and although you were beyond high on the release, you found it within yourself to nod. 

Smirking against your cheek, Bakugou removed his cock from you. “Fine then.” While you were still trying to regain control of your dizzy mind, he gave you a rough nudge, forcing your weak and trembling body to fall forward onto Kirishima. The redhead caught you by the arms to help you steady yourself, giving an annoyed huff as he guided you up to straddle his hips. 

“Watch it, man! She could have crushed my dick, then I’d be outta luck!” 

“Shut the fuck up. I’m sick of waiting, if you don’t get a move on, I’m kicking your fucking ass out of here.” 

“Boys, boys.” You pushed yourself up on your arms so you were balanced on all fours, smiling down at Kirishima through your lustful haze. “There’s no need to argue.” Reaching down between your bodies, you took hold of Kirishima’s cock, holding it steady as you ran your dripping wet sex along it, teasing your sensitive clit. “I’m here for you both to use me. As much as you want.” Looking back over your shoulder, you caught Bakugou’s glare, though it quickly flicked back down to your hips as you began to lower yourself down onto Kirishima’s cock, letting him slip into your pussy slowly. “You like watching, Katsuki?” 

Bakugou scoffed, his face flushing. “You’d better fucking watch it, whore. Don’t forget who owns your stupid ass.” 

“But I love it when you watch me,” You let out an airy moan as Kirishima filled you up all the way to the base, not leaving a single inch of you untouched. “Just to know that I turn you on so much without even having to touch you. Even if it’s another man… Even if it’s Kiri’s fat cock inside me. It makes me so happy, Katsuki.” Steading yourself with your hands against Kirishima’s stomach, you began to roll your hips, sighing and cursing softly from the pleasure. “Fuck, so big! Both of your cocks are so big and perfect!” 

As Kirishima gripped onto your hips tightly, he was immediately taken over by the euphoria he felt being buried so deep within your wet pussy, using his strength to guide your body to start bouncing on his cock instead. “That’s it, sweetheart. Fuck, your pussy is so tight!” It wasn’t another few seconds before he couldn’t resist thrusting his hips up into you, holding you steady as he ravaged your wet and clenching cunt at his own pace. He was hard and rough, slamming into you like a man starved, desperate for the pleasure and release he craved. “You’re such a perfect little slut.” 

Now forced to lean forward, weak arms propping you up on either side of his body, you allowed him to fuck you as he wished, each slam of his tip against your cervix blurring your vision with white sparks of pleasure. The way his thick cock filled you up and his piercing rubbed against your inner walls was building up your pleasure so rapidly that your body became completely weak, arms collapsing under you until you were laying on his chest. Somehow, you found the mental focus to look over your shoulder, your body flushing hotter at the sight of Bakugou eagerly pumping his own cock, his glare locked on the way that Kirishima was using you. 

“Ka- Katsuki,” You choked out through your moans, doing everything you could to keep hold of your mind for just a moment longer. “Please watch me while I cum! Please! A-ah! Kiri, w-wait, I--!” As the redhead grew rougher with you, there wasn’t anything you could do to hold back the pleasure any longer, and your orgasm ripped through your body like a spark of lightning, making your entire body tense and tremble. “Fuck! Fucking hell, that fat cock is so fucking good!” 

“Damn right it is, sweetheart.” Kirishima landed a hard smack to your currently unmarked asscheek. “You like being fucked by big cocks?” 

“Yes… I’ve never had cocks like this though…” You turned your face more into the skin of his chest, ignoring the sweat and drool. “Both of you… So perfect…” 

“We aren’t even done with you yet, sweetheart.” Taking hold of your ass in both hands, Kirishima spread you open, addressing the blond that still sat behind you, who was oddly quiet and patient. “C’mon, man. Let’s give her what she really wants.” 

For a moment, you felt embarrassed at the fact that Kirishima was holding your cheeks apart, your pussy still stuffed with his cock and your asshole twitching in anticipation. Looking over your shoulder again, you caught Bakugou’s gaze, the pleading expression in your eyes instantly bringing a wicked and excited smirk to his lips. That initial embarrassment spiked, holding your breath as Bakugou came in closer, taking over the task of holding your ass open. 

The tip of his cock, hot and blushing with the need for his own release, teased your tight, unoccupied hole, the feeling of his frenum piercing rolling across your skin bringing a whimper from your throat. You wanted it so much that it was nearly painful to have to wait like this. You felt powerless in the situation, only able to wait for them to decide to begin, and the anticipation was making your stomach flutter and roll. The butterflies escaped your lips with the sound of a small plea, barely audible even by you, but Bakugou was quick to take notice. 

“What’s that, babygirl?” 

“P-please…” You pushed the word out with your strangled breath, still watching him from over your shoulder. “Please don’t make me keep waiting!” You bit down onto your bottom lip as his thumb rolled over the waiting hole, teasingly dipping it in to the first knuckle. “Mm... Katsuki--” A sharp gasp escaped your lips as he landed a rough spank to your already bruised and abused cheek from earlier that night in the dressing room, the spike of pain making your body tense. Kirishima groaned and wiggled beneath you, his hips bucking lightly impatiently as your core squeezed tightly around him in reaction to the pain. 

“Aah fuck! Shit, sweetheart, don’t squeeze so tight like that, it’s hard enough not to fuck your brains out right now.” 

“What’s the matter? She’s too tight for ya?” Bakugou landed another hard, full palmed smack to your ass, forcing a sharp moan from your lips and your tensing body bringing Kirishima into another series of squirming. “I’m surprised you’re still in this, you’re usually a two-pump chump!” Then, the instant your body calmed, he shoved his entire length into you in one fell swoop, his hips meeting with the red plushness of your ass. “Fuck… How can she be such a perfect little slut?” 

The sudden feeling of being so full knocked all the air out of your lungs, your back arching to try to accommodate them both, digging your nails into the fabric of the couch. Your mind was so overwhelmed with the pressure that you could barely hear Kirishima snapping back at Bakugou for the insult he had given him, only hearing the sound of his voice without comprehending words. They were both buried so deep inside you that you worried you might split apart if they started moving, and with that realization, another came to the front of your dizzy mind. 

You’ve never had two dicks inside you at the same time. 

Never. 

With how excited and desperate you had been for it, the men must have assumed that you had and weren’t going to go easy on you. You wanted to speak, to say anything to tell them the truth, but you found it nearly impossible to pull enough air into your lungs to speak. They were about to absolutely ruin you, and you wondered in that moment if you’d be able to take it, or if you’d beg for mercy with the first thrust. 

It was Kirishima who moved first, thrusting his hips upwards slow and shallow, forcing a cry from your throat and your eyes to clench shut, hiding in his chest. “Shh, sweetheart, we got you.” Since Bakugou was holding onto your hips, Kirishima’s hands were free to caress you, one on your side and the other on the back of your head. With his tender touch, however, came longer strokes of his cock inside you, the overwhelming presence pushing tears from behind your closed eyelids. “Just breathe.” 

Bakugou, however, was not as merciful. He picked up on Kirishima’s rhythm, pulling himself all the way out to the tip before plunging back into your tense and constricting asshole. Bakugou hissed, digging his fingers into your plush hips, his blunt nails stinging your skin. “Fucking hell, babygirl, you’re just sucking me right in. Damn-!” A groan escaped him as he picked up his pace, your body starting to rock between them as the skin of his pelvis slapped against your red and abused cheeks. 

“A-ah, Katsuki-!” You nearly screamed out in shock, though your face was still buried into Kirishima’s chest. “Not so fast! Please!” 

“Oh no, babe. You begged for this. We’re giving you exactly what you asked for.” 

As if picking up on a cue, Kirishima also increased his pace, until they were both thrusting into you as deep as they could possibly get, hard and fast. Though, with their increased pace came a new feeling washing over you, pushing past the dull, uncomfortable pain. They were filling up every inch of you, caressing you and staying as perfectly in sync as they could, doing everything they could to pleasure you. And that was all you could feel. 

The pleasure. 

It pulsed through every inch of you like shockwaves, sending it rocketing up your body and down your limbs. There was no other word that you could think of to describe it besides “perfect”, and you knew that there would never be another set of men in your entire life that could make you feel this way. That could use you like this, making you feel so vulnerable yet adored at the same time. No matter the reason, these two men who you loved dearly, wanted you. 

And damn, you were happy. 

“Fuck, yes-!” You finally choked out, finding a smidgen of strength to allow you to prop yourself up on your elbows. Still, your head hung slack, your tear-filled eyes rolled up and mouth open with unending moans. “Your cocks feel so good inside me!” 

“There she is,” Deep groan reverberating in his chest from your encouragement, Bakugou increased his place, giving you another firm slap on the ass. “That’s right, you slut. Now tell me who you belong to.” 

“You! You, Katsuki-!” 

“-And?”

“-Kiri! I belong to both of you! I’m your little slut, please do whatever you want with me! Just please don’t stop, I want to feel your cum inside me!” 

If you were honest, you weren’t sure how long they ravaged you like this. You came again, before your body was just too overly stimulated, and all you could do was lay there against Kirishima’s chest, moaning and trembling constantly. There wasn’t a rational or clear thought in your head, only able to focus on their dicks inside you, and their increasingly loud moans and grunts. 

They were getting close. 

“Fucking shit-” Bakugou was barely able to get the curse out before his hips began to shutter, his thrusts becoming erratic and shallow until he released inside of you, the hot feeling of his cum pulling you back into full consciousness. You peeked at him over your shoulder the best you could through your wild hair, finding his flushed, sweaty, and satisfied image endearing. You felt so empty with his exit, but you didn’t have much time to focus on that, as Kirishima immediately scooped you up and flipped you both over so you were beneath him. 

Smirk on his lips, he bent your legs back up to your chest, his pace and depth only increasing and sending you into another round of incoherent moans. 

“That’s it, sweetheart. I want to see that pretty face when I fill you up with my cum.” 

Clutching onto his arms tightly, your nails dug into his biceps as your eyes stayed locked on the way his hips moved, almost hypnotized by the sight of his cock slamming in and out of your abused cunt. The veiny girth that was absolutely coated in your slick found no resistance, and with this new visual paired with the feeling of rapid dragging along your clenching walls, you could feel another orgasm peaking fast. “K-Kiri-!” 

“Going to cum on my fat cock again, huh? Go on- Ah, oh fuck-!” A hiss escaped through his teeth as you came, your entire body quivering, cunt clenching around him and head leaning back. Your moans hitched and shook uncontrollably, unsure of exactly how loud you were as your mind fogged over with the endless waves of pleasure paired with the new heat that flooded your core with Kirishima’s release. The redhead that pinned you down was rough with his release, his hips rutting against yours with sharp snaps and deep grinding, which only prolonged your release until you were nothing but a limp, trembling mess. 

“Look at you. You’re so damn pretty.” Kirishima’s voice barely registered in your mind, as did the clicking sound of a phone taking pictures. “Bakugou, come hold her legs back.” 

Your teary gaze landed on Bakugou as he came to stand near your head, taking your calves into his hands and pulling them back so you were further contorted. With the movement, Kirishima removed his cock from within you, leaving you feeling incredibly empty, though the heat of his cum leaking out of you was very noticeable. With a whine as your knees were pressed on either side of your head, you weakly gripped onto Bakugou’s hands, looking up at him with exhausted, innocent curiosity. Fluffy blonde hair stuck to his face that was coated with sweat, Bakugou smirked down at you, glancing over every inch of your body. 

“Fuck babygirl, you should see yourself. You’re a mess.” 

You swallowed hard against your dry and aching throat, smiling softly as your hand traveled up and down his forearm tenderly. “All… all for you.” The sound of the phone's camera going off finally got your attention and you looked at Kirishima instead, your stomach fluttering nervously at the sight of him snapping pictures of your body. “P-pictures…?” 

“I’ve never seen a pussy this pretty, sweetheart. And it’s just dripping with my jizz… Your ass is, too, with your cheeks all fucking red from Bakugou spanking you. You’re a damn masterpiece, baby. I should have recorded this whole thing.” Obviously filming now, Kirishima ran his thumb from your asshole up along your cunt and to your clit, dragging the mess of cum with him. After a few teasing rolls of your clit, he brought his thumb up to your mouth, not even having to say a word before you opened wide to suck the digit clean. “Damn that’s hot.” 

“Save that recording shit for later. There will be plenty to shoot back at the hotel. Right, babygirl?” Bakugou released your legs, allowing you to close them and rest them comfortably to the side. Once your mouth was free of Kirishima’s fingers, you licked your lips, eyes locked on your celebrity crush as he gazed down at you expectantly. 

Any rational thought that should have peaked in your mind was smothered by a screaming need to stay with him, to do whatever he wanted just so that you could be in his presence for as long as possible. Before you knew it, you were up on trembling knees, turning to face him and timidly clutching on tightly to the front of his shirt. “Yes, Katsuki. Anything you want.” 

“That’s right,” Bakugou pulled you in closer, latching his arms around your torso and kissing you with a gentle passion that sent your heart racing. “You’ll do anything for me.” 

“And for me.” Kirishima came up to press himself against your back, his hands tightly on your hips as he kissed your cheek playfully. You couldn’t resist a soft giggle from escaping your lips, both of your arms wrapping around Bakugou’s torso tightly. 

“Mm, yes! Anything for both of you-” 

KNOCK KNOCK

“Hey, are you three done in there yet!? Hurry up! We have girls and more drinks, and I have to piss!” 

“The couches better still be clean!” 

Kirishima chuckled, releasing you with a final pat to your backside before hopping up and fixing his clothes back into proper place. “Shit, sorry, just a sec!” 

Bakugou, however, didn’t bother responding to them, kissing you again tenderly while pulling your dress back down to cover your hips. “I hope you’re ready, babygirl.” 

“For what?” 

“The afterparty is just getting started. I hope that partying with your favorite band will be everything you ever dreamed of.” 

“As long as I get to be close to you, Katsuki, I’ll do anything. Anything at all.” 

“That’s my good girl.”

[sirisuorionblack]

Wonders in the Rain

Remus Lupin x CEO!Reader

Summary - After being unemployed for very long Remus reluctantly allowed his best friend to find him a job as the PA of her boss. And he would forever be grateful to her for that.

Warnings - Metions of death. 

A/N   This is also a fic written for @leydileyla 's 1K followers celebration. And now this fic is by far the longest I’ve written with 4K words. So, enjoy!

You groaned, throwing your pen onto the pile of papers and stood up from the confinement of your study desk and slowly walked towards the coffee machine to fill in the third cup of coffee since the morning and it wasn’t even past noon.

It was difficult and exhausting being the CEO of the most renowned company at the age of 21. It was certainly something you hadn’t expected when two years ago your mother said it would be you who continues her legacy and take care of the company in her death bed. You weren’t ready when you were announced the CEO right after the funeral, the grief inside you never had time to dissipate.

You remember so vividly as you stood in the corner of the room, dressed in all black, eyes swollen as the aftermath of losing your world overnight took a toll on you. Your little brother, at the mere age of 11 looked up at you with wide eyes unknown of what was going on as he clung to you, tightly and you held him as tight, afraid you would lose him just as you lost…the man who the cause for the illness of your mother. Her husband, your father, whose name spurred rage in you as you recollected him arguing with your mother and leaving you and your brother to watch as your mother collapsed onto the floor. 

You smiled pleasantly as your eyes fell on the beautiful woman you had the privilege to call your mother. It was her last picture. Your brother and you were huddled in her arms, a wide smile on your face as your mother kissed your forehead, your eye closed as your brother looked at you, his head thrown back as laughter engulfed him. It was like the time was frozen and you would rather be that girl - carefree and filled with happiness than…you, life so dark you can’t see anything except for the little shine that you so dearly held close to you in protection - your brother.

That was all in your life. Brother and company. Nothing in the orbit of love. It disgusted you ever since you saw your father leave. You despised that feeling of giving someone so much of yourself only for them to dust it off as though it was nothing but a speck of dirt. 

“Ms (L/N)?” your trail of thoughts were interrupted by a sweet voice. You composed yourself, placing the photograph on the table and turned around. It was Lily Evans, an employee of yours who you could very well say was close to you. She knew everything about you, from what you do first in the morning to your drastic sleeping schedule. She almost knew how you would react in every situation yet you couldn’t label your relation with her.

“Yes,” you turned around, avoiding her eyes. She stepped into your lavish office the only person ever having the privilege of being allowed to.

“So, there is this really good friend of mine-” she started with a feared voice only to be cut off by you.

“Evans, please, if this is some sort of a recommendation-” You said and paused as she hurriedly said, “No, no, no. I mean, yes, but he really deserves it,” 

“Fine, what is it?” you said, sighing as you once again took a seat behind your messy desk. 

“I’ve heard people say things about you never having a PA and my friend is actually, I mean, would actually love to take that position,” she said awkwardly. You smirked and leaned back on your chair, looking at her intently as she blushed under your intense gaze. 

You shook your head, “Fine, but I want to meet him and then I will decide,” 

You watched as Lily’s was brightened and she nodded enthusiastically, “Just an hour and he will be here to meet you,” 

You hesitated thinking of your schedule before she said, “You are free the next few hours,”

“And how do you know that?” you asked, raising your eyebrows. 

“I just heard,” she said, looking at the soles of her shoes. 

You rolled your eyes, “No wonder I can’t keep any secrets,” 

You were known for many conspiracy theories and gossips. It was difficult at the start, many breakdowns later you were broken enough that all those knives passed right through the holes, never affecting you. 

You were not excited about the arrival of Lily’s friend and time passed so quickly that before you knew it there was a knock on the door. “Come in,” you mumbled, too endorsed in your work to even look up or comprehend the sudden presence. 

“M-Ms (L/N),” you heard a deep voice say. The voice was new and one you had never heard of and your head automatically whipped to look at the source, startling the poor guy before you. Scars were littering his face and had a failed attempt at masking the exhaustion. He looked weak although there was a pleasant aura surrounding him, buzzing around him with energy. 

He played with the hem of his denim jacket, shifting from one foot to another. His ripped jeans and slightly dirty shirt telling he wasn’t prepared for this meet. He gulped, “My name is Remus, uh, Remus Lupin,” 

You blinked and stood up from your chair, “Who-why are you here?”

Remus’ eyes widened, “I-um, I, Lily told you wanted to see me. I mean, like wanted to meet me before you gave the, uh, the job,” 

For the first time, Remus saw you smile. Remus always admired you, the power and authority that radiated off you was bewildering when considered you were just 21, a year younger than himself and a successful CEO while here he was jobless and wandering around aimlessly. 

Of course, it hurt that ego instilled in him but he wasn’t gonna lose the opportunity of having some money in his hand to pay off his bills. Working as a PA to a girl younger than you wasn’t often considered a better one, and his mother told that very thing when he had called her minutes ago. 

You chuckled, “Take a seat,” you sat down and beckoned him to a chair placed on the opposite side of the desk. You closed the cap of your pen as Remus awkwardly walked towards the desk. 

“So, tell me something about you,” You said, your eyes boring into his eyes. They were gorgeous to Remus and it was terrifying when the reality set in that he was sitting before the (Y/N) (L/N). Someone he had admired only while scrolling through his phone and watching the news. 

You shook your hand dismissively, “I’ll rephrase that,” you sat in a more comfortable position on the chair, “Tell me about the companies you’ve worked for before, your qualification and some basic information about you like your age and things. If you don’t mind, that is,” 

“No, no, of course,” Remus said, “I just graduated from my university and I’ve worked for a minor publishing house for about six months,”

“And why aren’t you working with them anymore?” You asked but immediately asked him to continue as the subtle melancholy wove into his facial expressions and his fingers twitched. 

“Um, I studied English literature and yeah,” He said, shrugging and finally a small smile formed on his face.

You chuckled, shaking your head, “Where are you from?”

“Wales,” he said, without leaving a gap and was weirded out to find the odd feeling in his stomach as he saw you smile and chuckle over again in the short span of time you had met him. 

“Beautiful,” You glanced at the desktop placed on the side of your table and then looked back at him, “It's not gonna be an easy ride of you being my PA you might know the controversies that sparked in the past,”

“Yes, mam,” Remus nodded, his hands that were tightly clasped together was sweating profusely. 

“You will be sent an email that will let you know about the rest of the details. Make sure you read it thoroughly,” You said, glancing at the computer screen again. 

“Yes mam,” Remus said, fiddling with his fingers. 

“Also, the date when you can join will be mentioned in the email itself,” you smiled at him, “And that’s about it,” 

“Oh, alright,” Remus stood up slowly. 

“Your appointed, Mr Lupin,” You said once again and watched as the glow finally found his face after your confirmation. He grinned happily and said, “Thank you very much, Ms (L/N),” and dashed out of the room without another word, leaving you feeling extremely happy for some reason as you returned to your tedious paper.

Two months, that’s how long you had known Remus and over time it was appropriate to say the two of you grew closer.

You had never had anyone to stand behind you and guide you to what is right, it was always you, yourself alone in the vast arena named society feeling scared and little in the insides while having a brave facade outside. It was extremely difficult to push everything aside and struggle to move forward alone and without proper guidance.

But ever since Remus was appointed two months ago, he had never left your side. It was as though somebody had stepped beside you on the high podium you stood on, facing what was worse than galloping hordes. The comforting aura radiating off him calmed the burning insecurity and fear drilled into you. He stood like a guard, a mentor and a…friend. You’d go a far as to say family as you saw the ways he behaved with your brother.

Remus never made you regret a thing in your regretful life. It was almost bewildering in the start at what he could do. He had made a tiny hole in the wall you had created for yourself from the world. And the little crack Remus created bombarded him with everything he knew that you wouldn't have told anyone else.

You weren’t aware how he knew all those things about you that even you didn’t. It was as though he knew exactly what you would do before you even thought of it. Remus Lupin did wonders to you.

And (Y/N) (L/N) did wonders to him. Remus couldn’t calm his nerves the first day he walked into your office in that posh suit and saw that bright sparkle in your beautiful eyes. He fell. Quite literally, it was extremely awkward when he tripped over his own foot and had to hold onto the door handle. But you had a smile and beckoned him inside saying it happens all the time and how you had to change the layout of the office. 

Just as Sirius Black - the love god as he demanded to be called - predicted, by the end of the first month, Remus was smitten over you. He couldn’t find a reason to dislike you in fact, every minuscule detail he learned about you just made him like you more.

One drunken confession to the “love God”, Remus was clear of his feelings to you and he was never one to understand his feelings, rather run away from them and he had lost a handful of relations like that and he never wanted to do it again yet there wasn’t a chance he could tell them to you and the victim of the mess of his love life was James (Remus thought he deserved it). 

Remus groaned, leaning back on his chair and rubbed his eyes. He received the mail for the annual conference that would be held where thousands of companies would be having a discussion. It was a really good idea but you hated it and just yesterday he had listened to you speak passionately against it, although Remus just heard the first few sentences and the rest of them falling into his deaf ears as he stared at you. 

“Remus,” Lily shook his arm, “Remus!” 

“I'm listening,” He mumbled and he didn’t have to see her to know she would have rolled her eyes. 

“What is the email about?” She asked. 

“Read it yourself, Evans,” he said with a sigh.

“Is this what you would have told to the love of your life?” she said but he could hear her voice drawl as she read the mail. Remus mumbled, “I don’t love,”

“Sure you don’t, Lupin,” she scoffed. Remus knew what was happening and who she was referring but he would dare say it himself and be teased relentlessly. 

“So, why are you groaning to attend a conference,” Lily asked. 

“She hates that,” Remus said, still not opening his eyes. 

“Ah, she hates everything,” Lily said and he failed to notice the smirk on her lips as he defended you and glared at her. 

“First of all, it’s overseas and she said they would be poorly organised. Second, she doesn’t hate everything, alright, you just don’t know what she likes,” He said, sitting straight on his chair. 

“Sure, sure, Remus,” She said, teasing and left not before ruffling his mass curls, “You suck, do you that?”

”Yep, ask James of it!” She said, winking at him as Remus groaned, disgusted. 

“Ms (L/N),” Remus managed to leave his seat 30 minutes later, mentally preparing himself. You looked at him with a bright smile and beckoned him in by waving your hand enthusiastically. It physically hurt Remus to think he would be the one delivering the news that would wipe the grin off your face. 

“The annual conference-” Before Remus could even complete his sentence he saw your mood shift completely by how you slammed your head against your study desk. He winced. 

“When is it?” He could hear you mumble. You would be thoroughly pissed if he told when it was. Remus shifted his weight from one foot to another and said, “Day after tomorrow,” 

“Day after tomorrow!?” you yelled, whipping your head to look at him. Remus nodded apologetically. 

And here you were two days later, in your private plane flying to a place where you dreaded to go. Although the only good thing in this was seeing Remus in a causal outfit other than his tailored black suit even that was overpowered by the fact that it was seven in the evening. 

“We will be there in about two hours,” Remus said, scrolling through his phone, “You can take a nap and once we reach there we need to get to the location they sent by a car they have arranged,” 

“They arranged a car?” You asked, blinking at him.

“Yes, they did,” he shrugged, closing his phone and keeping it in the holder. He looked into your bewildered eyes.

“Do we have a backup plan?” you asked, glaring at him. 

“We-no? Why do we need a backup plan?” He asked, puzzled. 

“Remus, do you remember when I told you about their ability to organising things?” You said, looking at him accusingly. Remus took a deep breath, he had not just forgotten them but ignored them too. 

“Uh,” He gulped and rubbed the back of his neck, “We-”

”Lupin, I swear I am not walking miles!” you scolded. And for some reason, Remus’ damned mind could predict exactly what Sirius would have said at the moment and was almost tempted to say the exact words he would have said, “I’ll carry you, don’t worry,” but Remus knew better.

“You won’t, promise,” He gave thumbs up, “Now, you get your needed nap, yeah?”

“Would you leave?” you asked, staring into Remus’ eyes with mixed emotions and he couldn't place a finger on what exactly it was to give a response, so he resorted to the good ol’, “Do you want me to leave?” 

You took a deep breath. Did you want him to leave? You were torn between yourself. One part of you wanted him to stay with you, having no strength to battle with your thoughts alone although he wasn’t going to do much, his sole presence was comforting for you. The other part was scared. Scared of what he could do and just fear blocking every thought of yours. 

But the fear, somehow, for the first time was brought down and you whispered, “Stay,” and who was Remus to disobey that.

After two exhausting hours confined in that plane, the first thing you did once you got off the plane was crack your joints while walking outside and Remus stood on the side chuckling at you. 

“Well, you are the one who is supposed to do it,” You said, rolling your eyes with a smile. He walked to your side, “I don’t exactly ‘cause I knew how to sit on a plane,” 

“Oh is it now?” You scoffed. 

Remus hummed, “Yep!” 

“How else do you sleep in that uncomfortable seat?”

“You wouldn’t kill me if I said, would you?” He asked, looking at you cautiously.

You shrugged, “It depends,” 

“Alright. Um, that’s not reassuring but I’ll tell - you don’t sleep when you on a plane,” Remus said and watched as you whipped your head towards him and glaring.

“What sort of a creature are you?!”

“A good one,” 

“Ooh, getting brave now are we, Lupin,” You bumped your shoulder with him and Remus chuckled, shaking his head. 

“Remus, how long will it take?” You asked glaring at him, who spoke frantically to someone on his phone. The two of you were still in the airport after an hour or so and just like you warned the car has not yet arrived. You huffed and looked at the large window panels that showed the exit of the airport. The sun had already set, not a speck of it in the sky. It was pitch black, the half-moon already shining with the stars in its company. 

You always loved staring at the sky. It not just reminded of your mother but her interpretation. She always considered the moon to be herself when she was younger. The little stars close to it were you and your brother and the rest all were her employees and comrades. She later said the moon was you and the stars behind you were every single person you would meet and the beautiful night sky was reserved for a special person. However, you tried to oppose her point, she stood her stand and told you that one day you will understand it and perhaps it was about time you did. 

You felt someone touch your hand and when you turned to look, Remus was crouched before you, his scarred hand on top of yours. His bright eyes were apologetic as he stared into your eyes. He was confused about how watery it was. Remus scrunched his eyebrows, “Are you alright?”  You nodded with a smile. Remus sighed and held your hand tightly in his.

“The car didn’t come, isn’t it?” you asked with a smirk. Remus ducked his head low. He always felt extremely guilty when he couldn’t do the job he was given and certainly not when he ignored the instruction. 

He was surprised to hear you chuckle, “It’s alright,” You said, grinning at him.

Remus’ eyes widened, “Really?” 

You shrugged, “There isn’t much that I can do now, is it?” 

“I-I’m really sorry,” He hoped you would accept his apology. 

You laughed, “It’s OK, Remus, calm down and think of how we are going there now,” 

“Yes, about that the organizer said they would arrange us a motorbike,” Remus grimaced in anticipation of your reaction.

“Really?” You asked, your eyes widened in excitement. 

“Yeah, it’s actually there at the exit of the terminal,” he said. 

“Ah! Can we use it then?” sitting on the edge of the seat you asked him with a childish excitement making Remus’ heart swell happiness. He stared at you with a mild smile on your face as he chuckled. 

“That’s why it is there in the first place,” he said and watched your eyes lit up with no concern of the sass in his words that usually wasn’t ignored. 

“I wanna see it!” You stood up abruptly and pulled him up with you. Although getting slightly intimidated by how he towered over you, the profound excitement of finally seeing a motorbike coursed through your veins like fire. 

Remus chuckled, “Yes, of course,”

He couldn’t believe it. Remus couldn’t believe the sight before him - his ever stoic boss had her jaw dropped to the floor as she saw the motorbike.

It all quite made sense if he had to think of it, it was impossible for you to drive it down the streets anywhere back home but here it was rather unknown of your arrival, so you could zoom through the streets as you whished without a sense of fear. It was one of the reasons why you chose to travel in the night while announcing you would be leaving the country in the morning. 

“Ahh, this is so beautiful!” you gushed, walking closer and running your hand across the seat, “Can I drive? Please?” 

“As you should. I dunno to drive that,” Remus said, shrugging. 

“It’s alright,” You waved your hand, dismissively, “I’m not gonna judge,” 

As you swing your leg over the bike seat and adjust your coat, you said, “My mum got me one for my 18th birthday and I was obsessed over it, like that’s was my only means of transportation,” 

“That’s brilliant,” Remus said as he planned the first thing he would do once he is back home. 

You and Remus were high on adrenaline as the two of you zoomed into the night. The feeling of cutting through the air with wide grins and hollering happily was indeed beautiful and in the back of your mind, the astonishment of how long it had taken you for being like this again baffled. 

But it all went down once the light drizzle became fully-fledged rain. Having to park the motorbike by some bus stop, the two of you held your jackets above your head and ducked inside, still grinning. 

“Ah, the bike is getting wet,” you said, the thought dampening your mood. 

“This doesn’t seem to be stopping any soon,” Remus said, taking a deep breath as he scanned the surroundings. It was pitch black except for the moon shining down at you. It was such a sight for sore eyes when Remus turned to look at you, your coat was tightly wrapped around yourself, your hair dripping with the rainwater, your eyes shining as you watched your surrounding. You looked divine. 

Remus didn’t know what he was thinking when he took hold of your hand and ran out of the bus stop. “Remus! What are you doing!?” You yelled as he pulled you to the middle of the deserted road.

“You said to me once you loved dancing in the rain!” he said, pushing the water out of his eyes. 

“But-” You looked around, the adrenaline still rushing inside and it indeed was your dream to be out in the streets dancing while rain poured down and the night sky guarded you. Remus let go of your hand, his eyes never leaving you as your legs slowly started moving as though by nature of the memory. 

Time slipped through your hands and before you knew it, after all the laughter, you were back in Remus’ arms, staring into his eyes. You always loved them, feeling as though they held mystery amidst them although always raw. You knew on your fingertips how he felt at that moment when you could just see his eyes but now, it was unknown. 

Remus had a gentle smile on his face as he protectively had his arms wrapped around your waist, a reassurance to himself that you were indeed protected from anything and everything. He leaned down to keep the two of you close and warm. 

“Remus,” you whispered, silently.  He smiled, allowing his eyes to shut as the echo of his name tumbling from your lips ran in his ears and before he knew it before he had control on himself, Remus blurted, “I love you,” 

He was stunned to hear the tiny gasp leaving your mouth and his heart was wrenched out when he saw the disbelief and incredulity in your eyes, “What’s wrong?” 

“What’s wrong!?” you yelled and Remu was taken aback, “Is that what you ask after telling me you love me?!”

”I am sorry," his statement ended more like a question as he looked at you with wide eyes. The rain was still pouring and he didn’t know if it was the rain or your own tears in your eyes. 

“Jerk!” You yelled, your fingers holding his drenched shirt tightly as your chest heaved rapidly. 

Remus wasn’t confused, he was beyond just confused about your reaction. You were yelling at him like he was some stupid but never letting go of him and now he was never the best at these messes. 

Clearing his mind off all the thoughts he cautiously moved his hand to rest on the side of your cheek and watched as your eyes closed, your own hand moving to hold his tightly.

Remus leaned down and kissed your forehead. He had never seen you more vulnerable as a sob escaped your lips and you slammed against his chest, your arm tightly wrapped around his torso. 

It was the first time in three years had you been kissed on the forehead and that alone proved to you that Remus was different. He is your night sky.

Remus held you tightly in the comfort of his arms as you whispered “I love you” into his shoulder. He never knew when the rain stopped. And now the surrounding was fragile. It was just you and him in the deserted street, the freshly smelling earth, the stars and moon shining down at you…and love.

[dwellordream]

“...By the 1920s, only the very poorest Danish families had to depend on the economic contributions of adolescent children for survival, but in most households daughters were still expected to help supplement the household income by handing over their pay. Especially in their first years as wage earners, parental control over children's income was considerable. Mothers in charge of the family budget generally kept most of the wages, permitting adolescent wage earners only a limited weekly allowance for personal expenses. Young women's family responsibilities continued in other ways as well. 

While sons were given much more leeway, daughters were generally expected to contribute their labor to the household after they arrived home from work. "In my family, all the children were sent out to work after their [Christian] confirmation [at the age of thirteen or fourteen], and we all had to give mother some of the money we earned for housekeeping," Gerda Eriksen recalled of her working class youth in the early 1920s. "But," she continued, "the girls also had their chores—running errands, peeling potatoes, setting and cleaning the table, doing the dishes, bringing up coal from the basement. My brothers never had to do any of that. That was women's work."

But if contributing wages and labor to the household continued to be the unquestioned norm, young women's sense of their rights and obligations vis-a-vis the family was nevertheless changing in other ways in the early decades of the twentieth century. When earnings were sufficient, some daughters decided to strike out on their own and live independently in rented rooms, small apartments, or boarding houses, but given their low wages this was a possibility for the very few. More frequently, young working women sought to use their earnings as leverage to negotiate a stronger position within the family. Especially after World War I, when most families were able to place themselves safely beyond the poverty line, the necessity of individual sacrifice for household survival began to fade.

This allowed even working-class daughters to assert their right to new privileges in exchange for their economic contributions, and in the 1920s they did so in increasing numbers. Young women's sense of what they could legitimately demand from their families clearly sprang from their status and experiences as wage earners outside the home. In the labor market, and particularly in jobs other than domestic service, young women learned a rhythm of time and labor that divided daily life into paid work and one's "own" time. This was a rhythm already familiar to most men, whose lives had long been split into realms of work and leisure. Therefore, (male) wage earners were the obvious beneficiaries when Danish government regulations in 1919 limited the work day to eight hours, allowing working men more free time than ever before. 

Married women, on the other hand, did not experience a similar shortening of the workday. Whether they worked outside the home or not, housework, child-rearing, cooking, and cleaning were never ending tasks, and unlike their husbands, they had to snatch their few leisured moments in between domestic responsibilities. As working women, daughters were precariously positioned between these different patterns of daily life. Even though they took on wage labor much like their fathers and brothers, young women were simultaneously expected to share the steady burdens of domestic work with their mothers and to devote their nonworking time to household labor. 

It was this discrepancy between expectations fostered by labor market participation in the context of increasing standards of living, and the realities of family life that became increasingly intolerable for many young women in the 1910s and 1920s. In their minds, earning a living and bringing home money positioned them on a par with male members of the family, entitling them to at least some of the same prerogatives. Consequently, while they did not resist having to hand over a substantial part of their earnings, they more and more openly resented that their financial contribution did not always earn them what they considered its reasonable counterpart, namely the right to free time. As a result, families with adolescent daughters were plunged into conflicts about the degree of personal autonomy that labor market participation and wages ought to bestow. 

Intrafamilial conflicts are often difficult for historians to document, but in this case tensions between parents and children are easily discernible. They surface, for instance, in the immensely popular advice columns of the 1910s and 1920s. Convinced of their right as wage earners to at least some free time and exasperated by their parents' unwillingness to grant them this privilege, some young women turned to advice columnists, hoping for replies that would affirm the legitimacy of their demands. 

Among the correspondents was "Betty" who openly questioned her parents' authority. "I work from 8 A.M. to 6 P.M. every day," she explained. "When I come home, I am tired, but I still have to fix dinner and look after my younger sister. In the evenings my parents say I have to do needle-work, but I would rather read or go for a walk. Can they really demand that I stay at home? I am seventeen and a half years old, and I pay my mother Dkr. 8 every week."

Similarly, "a Copenhagen girl" found the relationship between rights and duties in her life unreasonable. "Before I leave in the morning," she complained, "I have to light the fire, make coffee and pack lunches. When I come home, the dishes are still sitting there, and there are errands to be run. Sometimes I want to meet my girlfriend at night, but my parents will almost never let me go. They say there is no reason to 'gad about,' but I don't understand what is wrong with having a little bit of fun at night when you work all day." Other evidence also suggests that many young women openly struggled to obtain the right to leisure and independent activities they thought they deserved. 

Personal narratives often reveal both the intensity of such conflicts and the ingenuity of young women bent on getting their way. Emilie Johansen, who grew up in a middle-class family in a suburb of Aarhus recalled, for example, how she and her sister enlisted the help of an older aunt in their conflicts with an authoritarian father. "He was so strict. He would never allow us to have any fun, never allow us to go anywhere. It was hopeless. But then my aunt—I guess she was feeling sorry for us— we talked to her, and she hired us to do some cleaning and stuff. And we would get there and she would say, 'Why don't you girls run off to see a movie?' I don't remember if we ever actually did any work."

Equally resourceful, Copenhagen native Anna Eriksen depended on the backing of an older brother, who, in exchange for small favors, would promise to act as her chaperon outside the home only to vanish as soon as the siblings were out of their parents' sight. In addition to such evidence, numerous magazine articles and newspaper columns from the 1910s and 1920s chronicle the anger and bewilderment of parents who found themselves in constant conflict with their daughters. For mothers, this seemed particularly difficult. Not only did their daughters' desire for a "modern" life seem a rejection of their own norms and values, which in itself was hard to bear, but on top of that, some girls directly flaunted their disrespect of maternal authority, especially if fathers were absent, indulgent, or merely lackadaisical.

"When my daughter is not at the office, she thinks life has to be lived in a cafe, or in other places where people are judged according to their dress and style," "Ninka's mother" wrote to a women's magazine in 1921. "If I tell her to stay home even a few nights a week, she acts as if I've just imposed a life sentence on her." "She doesn't listen to me," another mother complained of her seventeen-year-old daughter. "When I tell her to stay home, she just laughs and says that you are only young once, that this is the twentieth century and not the Middle Ages, and that she is already wasting too much of her youth in a dirty factory. Besides that, she has her own money."

Even more desperate, the mother of one of the much maligned Langelinie girls told a newspaper journalist that she had "begged and pleaded with [her daughter] not to go there, but it doesn't help. I have to go to work, and my neighbor tells me that as soon as I am out the door, she takes off." Using whatever means it took, many young working women who came of age in the late 1910s and 1920s thus pushed for new personal freedoms and especially the right to free time. While some parents never gave in to their pressure, most young women seemed gradually to succeed in carving out of daily life at least some uninterrupted time devoted to relaxation and their own enjoyment. 

From the mid-1920s, the frequency of daughters' publicly voiced complaints declined dramatically, and coming-of-age stories no longer featured such conflicts. Apparently, Ernestine P. Poulsen, born in 1902, described a phenomenon that extended beyond her family when she explained that "I fought a lot of battles with my parents [over the right to leisure]. Perhaps I cleared the way because when my [younger] sisters came along, they did not have to do the same. My parents had kind of accepted that girls also needed time of their own."

This did not mean, however, that conflicts between parents and daughters faded. Rather, the grounds of conflict merely shifted. Much resistance to giving young women free time derived from the material conditions of daily life—the practical assistance of grown daughters was still important for the well-being of many working-class households—and from a more general reluctance to give up control over children. But parents' reluctance also stemmed from their misgivings about young women's actual use of their leisure time. 

Had daughters simply demanded more time to pursue leisure activities within the home, had they insisted on participating in cooking classes and sewing circles, or had they wanted to attend lectures on hygiene and housewifery, they would probably have been met with more understanding. But these were not the kinds of activities young women longed to engage in, and therefore the question of female leisure remained a contentious issue throughout the postwar decade.

Working-class and middle-class daughters had of course not been entirely without time of their own prior to the 1920s. Nor had they been completely confined to the home. Girls from the countryside had always been allowed to participate in regional fairs, celebrations, and local get-togethers of young people. Urban working-class daughters had long socialized outside the home on staircase landings and front steps, in backyards, and on city streets or in neighborhood parks, and many middle-class daughters belonged to women's clubs and organizations. 

What constituted the major departure from convention in the 1910s and 1920s was young women's insistence on their right to "go out," an activity significantly different from the kind of casual socializing that took place outside their parents' windows or in clubs and organizations under adult supervision. "Going out," Regitze Nielsen recalled, "that was when we got dressed up and went somewhere." More specifically, "going out" meant pursuing pleasures that took young women away from home and family, into the public, and, in particular, toward new forms of commercial recreation, including movie theaters, cafes, dance places, and amusement parks. As a social practice, this form of "going out" challenged older norms for female behavior in several ways. 

First, it obviously entailed their deliberate desertion from the domestic world, if only momentarily. Second, "going out" meant young women venturing outside familiar neighborhoods and beyond the realm of adult control and surveillance, claiming for themselves the right to an independent, unsupervised social life distinct from familial traditions. Third, as opposed to more traditional forms of leisure for women, "going out" was a strictly peer-oriented activity in which kinship ties had much less significance than freely chosen and carefully cultivated friendships among girls and young women who usually met in school, at work, in clubs and organizations, or in the neighborhood where they lived. 

Finally, and perhaps most importantly, "going out" meant women's entrance into public spaces traditionally defined as male territory and often imagined as sites of immoral activity where men and women freely mingled, potentially transgressing social and sexual boundaries. Because each of these four aspects seemed to pose a fundamental threat to the social and sexual status quo, intense controversies between parents and children over young women's new leisure activities reverberated throughout the postwar decade. Years after families had conceded to daughters' demands for more time of their own, parents struggled to control or at least influence their use of that time. 

By dictating curfews, prohibiting particular activities and specific locations, insisting on being introduced to friends and companions, and demanding the chaperonage of brothers, parents sought not only to protect their daughters against potential dangers but also to maintain at least some authority. Consequently, when young women ventured out into the public sphere, they generally did so under the intense scrutiny of parents who continued to hold some power to revoke their newly won privileges. Thus, even as "going out" gradually became a regular part of young women's lives, treading carefully remained an often perplexing prerequisite.”

- Birgitte Soland, “Good Girls and Bad Girls.” in Becoming Modern: Young Women and the Reconstruction of Womanhood in the 1920s

[writingdayandnight]

Line Without a Hook - Rafael Barba Imagine

Pairing: Rafael Barba x Reader (Fem. Pronouns) 

Word Count: 2650

A/N: Inspiration struck, perhaps a little OOC. Will probably go back later and edit. Just a little treat for everyone who misses Barba like I do. 

10:56 PM.

There was not a doubt in Rafael’s mind that he would not be home until after midnight. This case had been excruciating--brutal, really. Everyone had been pushed to their breaking point. Blood, sweat, and tears were poured into this case.

And here Rafael was with a pen cap fastened between his teeth, struggling to write an opening argument. It all seemed trivial. That words had the power to make or break a month’s worth of hard work. And that all he could think about was going home to his partner. 

He wouldn’t allow himself the privilege of a break until he finished his opening and prepped the summations, which was always his least favorite part. Tying everything together with a neat bow seemed to minimize the effort put into seeking justice. But it was his strong suit. There wasn’t a jury he couldn’t convince if given enough leeway during summations. 

His mind wandered yet again, back to the person that was waiting for him. He knew she would still be waiting for him when he got home, undoubtedly doing work of her own. She found solace in the quiet of the night. She would sit at the dining table with papers scattered across the surface, highlighters uncapped, lukewarm tea cooling unforgotten. 

Then there were her expressions. A furrowed brow while drafting a proposal. A lip bite accompanied by pensive tapping on the table. Her head slowly moving to the beat of the music that was playing from the speaker in the corner of the room. An exasperated sigh escaping as she typed another after-hours email. All of these things were the tiny details that Rafael loved noticing, learning, anticipating.

Finally, Rafael caved and placed a long-awaited phone call.

“Raf,” she answered, voice as tender as kiss goodbye.

“Cariño,” he replied, feeling a million times better just knowing she was on the opposite end of the line.

“When will you be home?” He could hear her trying to hide a yawn behind the scenes.

“Not any time soon.”

“Rafael, please take care of yourself,” she pleaded, yet it was to no avail. She knew this.

“I have to finish this prep, Cariño.” He could hear her eyes roll from across the line, “I bet you’re still doing work, too.”

“That’s none of your business,” she retorted, with a guilty shift in energy. 

“Take care of yourself,” he repeated, “I’ll be home soon. Don’t wait up.” 

“I love you.”

His heart grew full, “I love you more.”

Rafael ended the call, reclining in his leather chair. He had been overcome by love, both for his partner and for the way his life had been going lately. Despite the monstrosities he witnessed at work, everything had been going well. Even then, he enjoyed working with his coworkers; they acted as a support system, making the job a little more bearable. 

Then there was his love life. For once, everything was going right. He felt loved, supported, and capable of doing the same for his partner. It had been too long since he had that privilege. He knew too well the outcomes of a loveless life and he was trying desperately to escape them. Deep down, he understood that he didn’t deserve that. 

But there were times where he thought he didn’t deserve the love he had stumbled into. Never in a million years would he have thought that he would have fallen in love with the girl from the bar. 

The rain had finally let up outside, encouraging a few stragglers to clear the bar. Rafael remained, nursing a scotch on the rocks, muttering to himself about the news on the television overhead. It was a bunch of nonsense about the news anchor he and the SVU squad had just charged. He couldn’t listen much longer. 

A gust of wind hit as the door to Forlini’s opened; it sent shivers down Rafael’s back. Inquisitively, Rafael turned to see the person who just waltzed into the bar. Much to his surprise, it was a beautiful woman. He smirked and returned to his drink, secretly hoping that she would find her way to the bar.

She did just that, taking a seat two stools down from Rafael. He continued to watch the television, discreetly listening to her conversation with the bartender. Small talk. Nothing more, nothing less. Aside from her order--a vodka cranberry. 

“Will you get a load of this idiot?” She chirped, scoffing at the story of the news anchor. Her head was tilted in Rafael’s direction. 

He took a moment to answer, pausing to make sure she was directing her remarks towards him. 

“He’s surely a handful,” Rafael replied. 

Just then, his face appeared on the television screen. They had played his interview on the courthouse steps. He had been ambushed by the press, and even though he delivered better than most, it was not his best work. He silently thanked the Lord that the sound was off.

“Is that you?” She asked, spinning in her seat to face Rafael.

“Yes, it is.”

“It’s a shame, you look better in person,” she tisked, taking another sip of her drink.

Rafael couldn’t respond out of awe. No, that wasn’t the right word. He couldn’t respond because he was flustered. That was a first. 

“Sorry, it’s the vodka talking,” she retracted, making a face that suggested she was embarrassed. 

“No, I’m flattered. It’s not everyday the pretty girl at the bar tells me how attractive I look while sulking alone.”

“This is your version of sulking? Sitting at a bar surrounded by a bunch of people?”

“Perhaps,” he smirked, “Rafael,” he offered his hand.

“Y/N.”

“Beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”

“I was named after a comic book character, please don’t give my parents that kind of credit,” she laughed. It was contagious, infecting Rafael with an affliction that could not be easily cured. Not without an exchange of numbers and a couple of dates.

The memories of their first meeting flooded Rafael’s mind. It further distracted him from the task at hand. But how could he not think of the most impactful night of his life? Screw graduating from law school or getting promoted; nothing could top falling in love with Y/N. 

Nothing could top her love. From the little notes she dropped in Rafael’s briefcase to the silent support she offered when Rafael was not strong enough to ask for it. That’s when his mind wandered even farther, thinking back to the night he decided he was in love with Y/N. 

Rafael sat on the couch in a near-catatonic state. He couldn’t muster enough energy to move. His mind kept circling back to the horrors he had witnessed over the past 24 hours. In his ten years, never once had a case hit him this hard. It just cemented the callousness of man, something he had been trying to deny for so long. There was no such thing as a good person.

There was a knock at the door, a sound that should have startled him. Instead he was too lost in thought to react. He simply got up from the couch and headed to the door, only to be greeted by Y/N on the other side. 

“Rafael,” she mused, before noticing the hurt behind his eyes, “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

She invited herself in, dropping her overnight bag by the door. Concern washed over her.

Rafael tried to speak but no words came out. He couldn’t find the right thing to say. His choices were to expose Y/N to the horrors of his job or simply keep it bottled up. His choice was the latter; he couldn’t bear the thought of unloading this grief on her. 

“Raf, please talk to me,” she quietly pleaded. 

He did not respond. Instead, he made his way to the couch, taking a seat in the same spot he had been sulking in for the past three hours. 

Y/N followed without command. She rested her head on his shoulder, wrapping her hands gently around his arm. She placed a kiss on his cheek. It made Rafael’s heart jump, yet he still remained silent. 

But that didn’t deter Y/N. She remained glued to his side, occasionally laying a gentle kiss on him or drawing circles on his bicep. She didn’t push; she knew better than that. Still, just her presence brought Rafael to his knees. 

After an hour or so, Rafael could feel her heartbeat slow. He could see her eyes fluttering shut from the corners of his. 

“I love you,” he whispered, hoping that she wouldn’t hear. Rafael felt guilty saying those words for the first time in such a terrible state. 

“I love you more,” she replied, drifting into a slumber in his arms. 

Rafael knew this could never be true. 

The hands on the clock seemed to turn at an unprecedented pace, yet Rafael had gotten little done. It all seemed pointless. There had to be more to life than this. Hours spent in some poorly-lit office drinking dirt flavored coffee, waiting for his mind to stop running a marathon so he could focus. Watching people suffer everyday for some little bit of justice. Doubting the existence of good in the world with every passing moment. 

But the thing he couldn’t stand was being away from the love of his life. For such a pointless endeavor. It was pointless, but it wasn’t what he wanted. Not anymore. Not with the prospect of love sitting right in front of him. In that moment, he decided to be the most spontaneous he had ever been. 

He whipped open the bottom left drawer of his desk, pulled out a copy of his resignation letter, signed it, and placed it in the mailbox of his boss. He grabbed his jacket, briefcase, and cellphone before practically running to the lobby of Hogan Place. By a stroke of sheer luck, a taxi had been idling outside. Rafael got into the taxi without hesitation--or permission--and called out the address to the apartment he had shared with Y/N. Getting to their front door was his only objective. 

As he settled into the taxi, he reached inside of his briefcase and felt a small item lodged at the bottom. Rafael quizzically pulled it out, determining that it was cube-shaped. As it was illuminated by the passing streetlights, he recognized it instantly. And that’s where he decided to make the best decision of his life. 

“Mami, are you going to be okay if I’m gone for two weeks on vacation?” Rafael asked, changing a lightbulb in his mother’s apartment. 

It was a Saturday which meant it was his day to do chores around his mother’s apartment, with much reluctance on behalf of Lucia, while Y/N went through her laminated chore checklist back at their apartment. Rafael had come straight from his office, totally forgetting his to-dos. Until Y/N reminded him--a pretty common occurrence. 

“I promise, Mijo,” she said, taking his hand and guiding him down the step stool, “I’m just happy you’re taking time off.”

“Me too,” he sighed, a wave of bliss flooding his mind as he thought of going to Greece with Y/N. He’s dreamt of her sunburnt cheeks and wine-stained lips since the moment he bought the tickets. 

“It seems like an awfully romantic vacation. Have you thought about asking yet?” Lucia hinted, pointing to her ring finger. 

Rafael didn’t want to say ‘yes.’ He didn’t want to let her know that he had been planning it since their six-month anniversary. He couldn’t wait to spend the rest of his life with the woman he loved. 

“I’ve considered it,” he teased, “but Greece is too cliche. She wouldn’t appreciate it.”

“You underestimate her, Rafi. She loves you.” 

“And I love her. More than anything.” 

Lucia scoffed, furrowing her brow in disgust.

“Besides you, Mami,” he sang, pulling her in for a hug,

While in Rafael’s arms, Lucia slyly removed a small box from her pocket and slipped it into Rafael’s briefcase. It was his grandmother’s ring, the one she always talked about leaving for him. The one she made sure to mention everyday she was sick. Lucia would never forget something that important. 

Rafael grabbed his belongings with haste, basically throwing $50 at the cab driver, telling him to keep the tip. He slammed the door behind him, jogging to the apartment elevators. He was too lost in thought to greet the doorman or the security guard at the front desk. He was focused on one thing and one thing only.

The elevator couldn’t come fast enough--Rafael tapped his foot anxiously, cursing the damned thing. As soon as it opened, he pushed the 8th floor button at least ten times. He felt a rush of nausea, excitement, fear run over him. The elevator dinged and Rafael ran, rummaging through his pockets for his keys. 

He opened the door as fast as he could, revealing Y/N calmly making a cup of tea in the kitchen. Lamplight illuminated the living room. Her laptop was opened to a document, purple and yellow sticky notes scattered on the table. 2000s Pop Hits playing in the background. He had captured her in her natural element; he was witnessing the essence of Y/N.

“Baby, it’s midnight,” he spoke, calmer than he had been all day. 

“I know, but I was in the zone. I thought you wouldn’t be home tonight,” she answered, walking over to place a kiss on his lips, before strolling back to the kitchen to stop the whistling kettle. 

Rafael’s heart was beating out of his chest. His hands were shaking, mind racing. This was it. This felt right.

“Y/N?” 

“What’s up, babe?” She gently blew on her tea to cool it down. 

“I quit my job today.” 

Y/N almost did a spit, “I’m sorry, what?” She exclaimed.

“I couldn’t do it anymore. It broke me, Y/N.” He sighed, walking to her side, “There are better things in life than case briefs and court.”

Y/N was shocked but supportive, “Well, I’m glad you’re finally free. Why don’t you get ready for bed and sleep for the first time in a decade?” She laughed, placing her hand on his shoulder. 

“There’s one more thing,” Rafael said, reaching into his pocket and for the emerald box that housed his grandmother’s ring, 

Rafael expected the words to escape him; he hadn’t prepared anything in the taxi. These weren’t summations, he needed guidance.

But that didn’t stop him. 

“Y/N, you made me realize that I don’t want to live my life circling the drain and going through the motions. You have brought color to my black and white life. The joy you bring me everyday is immeasurable. Every second I spend away from you makes me feel like the world is ending. I can’t live without you, Y/N. That’s why I’m asking you-” Rafael began to bend his knee before Y/N cut him off.

“Yes! You don’t even have to ask. Yes, yes, yes!” She exclaimed, a tear already sliding down her cheek.

Rafael pulled out his grandmother’s golden ring from the box and slipped it on Y/N’s finger with extra care, as if she was made of glass. Tears had formed in his eyes as well, seeing the ring that reminded him so much of the other most important lady in his life. The most romantic person he had ever met. 

“I love you, Y/N. I wish I could have given you a better proposal, but I couldn’t wait,” he chuckled, once again admiring how well the ring hugged her fingers. 

“If you waited any longer, I was going to ask you,” she laughed, kissing him again and again. “Let’s go to bed,” she whispered, placing a kiss on Rafael’s neck.

[dainty-fingertips]

a date, i guess! ||koichi zenigata x fem!reader

This is my first post on this account! Hope you enjoy my little oneshot of zen :)

word count: 1855

summary: you are the newest member of the lupin gang. lupin says that you guys are meeting up at a french restaurant to discuss plans for a heist, but it seems they all had other plans; plans to set you up on a date with zenigata, to be exact.

trigger warnings:  none :)

||

      Lupin beamed upon seeing where her gaze had landed. That quirky grin smeared itself onto his lips and he placed his head in his hands, creasing his maroon overcoat as he stared at her. She had always been his source of vague amusement, but this? This was gold. The group of five, including Jigen, Goemon, and Fujiko, were at a French hotel-restaurant, supposedly planning out the big heist for the next night; and apparently a certain inspector had figured out where they were meeting.

      The thief had suspected Yn had feelings for Zenigata, but had no real evidence to base it off of. This, however, with her cheeks red and her eyes looking over to the poorly disguised inspector every few seconds? How much more obvious can you get? She had helped Lupin, too, by noticing where he was. He was wearing a tacky purple and gold striped button up and black denim pants, and she had no idea why. She frowned slightly, somewhat shamefully wishing he had his usual frumpy trench coat she liked so much. He wasn’t wearing his hat either, allowing his short charcoal locks to get some light. Fujiko nudged her. “You’ve been in space this entire time. What’s on your mind?” She questioned off-handedly. Goemon moved his attention over to her, his dark brown eyes filled with an apathetic sort of curiosity. “I’ve noticed too. You of aren’t much use if you aren’t even here.” Yn quickly snapped her eyes back over in front of her, clearly flustered from being caught in her Zenigata-induced daze. “Oh, sorry.” She chuckled bashfully. She was worried they were beginning to not like her. 

      Lupin put his hands on the table, his playful brown eyes glimmering as they normally did. “It’s fine! Besides, if I saw a peacock in a petting zoo, I’d be staring too.” She stared at him blankly. “I mean… he’s right there.” She shrugged, glancing back to him. He nodded his head, that stupid grin still present. “I figured you’d be the first to notice.” She furrowed her eyebrows a bit and pursed her lips. “What…” Lupin straightened up and snickered. “‘What are you talking about?’ That’s what you were gonna ask, right?” The group stayed silent except for Jigen, who asked Lupin what he was going on about. Fujiko’s slim eyebrows knotted together, signaling to Yn that at least Fujiko was just as lost as she is. Jigen showed no expression, but that was to be expected.       “Well, you see, I may have given Pops a little anonymous tip.”

      “Arsene Lupin.” She said, her expression growing grim.

      “-The third.” He shot back cockily.

      She huffed through clenched teeth. The thief snickered again, happily shutting his eyes as he did so. “I know, right? Figured it would be a good way for the two of you to get introduced.” Goemon glared at Lupin, a disappointed look on his pale face. “You know,” He began, sighing and folding his hands in front of him. He closed his eyes in annoyance. “I feel everyone is entitled to be stupid every now and again, but you abuse that privilege.” Lupin shrugged and looked up. “We’ve all had our special little rendezvous’ with Pops, haven’t we?” Jigen, Fujiko, and Goemon all sat in knowing silence. They all had, in fact. Lupin nodded with a smile. “Well, you see, she hasn’t gotten that privilege yet. What better than a candlelit dinner?” She looked nervously at the man; an expression that really wasn’t so much in fear, but simply in awe at his audacity. “What— I have to go sit down and eat with him?” She mumbled, growing anxious. Lupin winked. “Bingo! Since you seem to already have an eye out for him, it should be no problem, right?” 

      She felt like she was trapped in limbo. “I wonder how much better the world would be if you had gotten enough oxygen at birth.” She grumbled lowly. Fujiko aired an amused ‘hm.’ and looked over at Lupin. “Agreed.” He scoffed, putting the back of his hand to his forehead in a fake swoon. “The audacity. The betrayal!” He soon began to laugh and nudged Jigen. Jigen eyed him before he stood up out of the booth and walked around the table, grabbing Yn’s arm. “You were in on this too?” She snapped at him. Jigen snickered and yanked her up and out of the seat. She quickly caught her balance and swerved around to face him. He then shoved her away from the table and stood in front of the seats, ready to block her from returning to her seat.

      Jigen had a surprising amount of upper body strength for a gunslinger, but she knew she could probably land a few hits. However, they were in a very public restaurant in a very public area. It wasn’t worth the repercussion of getting thrown out. She scowled angrily at both him and Lupin before hesitantly turning around. There he was, in his funky outfit, hands clasped together and eyes looking out for any sight of Lupin’s gang. He had an iced water in front of him. Luckily they were in the very back, so he didn’t seem to notice them. He was facing to her left behind a waist high divider with a small slit near the top.

      She walked in the opposite direction he was facing, to the right. She figured it might be a bit safer if she approached him from behind. She rounded the corner and saw him near the front of the row, his back facing her. He ran a hand through his soot black hair and ruffled it a bit. She carefully approached him, slowly beginning to think that ugly shirt was more form-fitting than she’d anticipated. She passed the table directly behind him and slowed down her pace to the point she nearly stopped. This was terrible, and she’d never forgive Lupin for doing this to her.

      “Ins-Inspector?” She called, fumbling her words immediately. This truly was the worst. Zenigata quickly whipped his head around. “Wh- YN?” He yelled in response, disrupting the people behind him. She quickly put her finger to her lips. “Y-Yes, be quiet!” He carefully shrunk back in his chair and looked at her suspiciously. “That letter taped to my door said I’d be meeting someone to discuss something important. Are you the person?” He quizzed. Having no knowledge of what the letter read, she assumed Lupin had planned this exact scenario. She huffed in blatant annoyance. “Yes, sir.” He let out a small ‘hmph.’ And motioned for her to sit down, but he too seemed a bit nervous. 

She bit her cheek and took a seat across from him. “So,” he began, looking down at his water. “Why did one of Lupin’s thugs wanna meet me here, huh?” Thug? Is… is that what he thought of her? Technically, she was a part of a gang, but she didn’t hold herself like that. “With all due respect, inspector, I don’t know what makes you think that about me.” She frowned slightly. Zenigata looked up, slightly more wide-eyed than before. “Wait! T-That’s not what I— urgh.” He rubbed his temples. “I don’t think that about you, per se.” he mumbled in a slightly softer tone of voice. “You were just the last person I expected. I figured it’d be Jigen if anyone.” Did… he have a script he was following? The thought made her mouth curl into a soft grin. 

“Did the letter say it would be someone of Lupin’s?” She questioned, folding her arms in her lap. He groaned aggravatedly and pinched his nose. “Of course he’d do this. Did you even know about this?” He sighed, seeing her shake her head. “I thought I was supposed to meet them here to discuss something, but apparently that was not the deal.” She laughed dryly. Zenigata shot up. “They’re here?” He called, scanning the room.

She eyed where they were when she was forcefully pulled out of her seat, and it seemed they had all left right after she did. The booth was empty. Some friends, eh? She sighed through her nose. “No, sir.” He frowned and sat back down. “Oh.” He said softly. The disappointment in his voice was clear as day, which made her slightly sad. “Sorry, Zenigata.” He shook his head. “Why are you apologizing? Those weasels left you here by yourself with no clue what to do!” He quickly pulled the folded note out of his pants pocket. “Here, read the note.” She nodded and took it from his hand, and just like in every romance: their fingers brushed. She bit her cheek again and pulled her arm away a bit quicker, and he did the same. She didn’t catch it, but his cheeks grew slightly redder than they were before 

She opened the note with curiosity and immediately clicked her tongue in distaste. 

Dear Zenigata,

      I have oh-so important news to share with you. Something terrible has happened and you’re the only one who can help! ...Just kidding. It’s Lupin! Someone special is going to be meeting you tonight, 10pm, at the Hôtel d’Maigot, the French hotel/restaurant. If you want some very special info from a very special friend of mine, I recommend you head down there. Toodles!

P.S. Jigen says hi.

P.P.S So does Fujiko. I wish they would have said something when I was writing, but what can you do. Goemon and Yn aren’t here or I’m sure they would have said hi, too.

She sighed and folded the letter again, handing it back to Zenigata. “Yep. I was told nothing.” He scoffed. “That’s incredibly rude.” He murmured. He sipped his water, and the waitress approached. “Evening. Can I get you a drink?” She asked, tucking a strand of red hair behind her ear. Yn nodded her head. “Water with lemon, please.” The woman smiled softly and sent her a thumbs-up. “Right on it.” She spun around on her heel and walked away. Yn turned back to Zenigata and placed her head in her hands. “Inspector, it’s clear that they are just trying to set us up on some blind date or something.” She mumbled shyly.

“I’m not complaining, but please don’t feel forced to stay if you are busy.” She added with a sort of frown.

“Not— hey, what do you mean?”

Her face began heating up and she put her hands back in her lap. “I mean, ah, I’d enjoy a dinner with you if you’d have me.” She murmured quieter than before. Her cheeks were clearly red, but hopefully he wouldn’t notice in the dim light. “You… want this to be a… a date?” It seemed Zenigata was getting flustered too. She bit the inside of her lip and shrunk back in her chair. “Only if you want.” 

Zenigata cleared his throat and tried to brush off his burning cheeks. “Well, if you insist! You’ll probably tell me something I need to know about Lupin, anyway.” He called, feigning confidence. A small grin cracked onto the corners of her lips. “A date it shall be, then.”