#now i just have to format my string better

[dont-open-dead-inside-net]

what i needed was the toString object btw 🙌

[signedkoko]

You are such a sweetie! Since your requests are open, if you feel inspired and motivated by this (otherwise you can 100% ignore it, writing is hard - I know), could I request a one-shot for Vox who falls in love with a imp!reader? Would love to see how you write their "forbidden" love, how would Vox feel and what if the other Vee's found out about it. It doesn't have to be a story, you can do it in headcannon format if you feel like it suits better! Just try to have fun ♡ -Nia

Intern [Romantic]

In which the techy overlord falls for one of his new hellborn employees, much to his dismay. Reader is genderneutral.

Song - Break My Heart by Dua Lipa

Any hellborn would die for the opportunity that graced you. Well, graced was not the right word; you fought for months against many candidates, beefed up your resume, and pulled some strings to get an unpaid internship for the Vee's. More specifically, a three-month internship at VoxTek with the potential to be hired in immediately after. 

It was a position people could only dream of, especially hellborn. Sinner-based companies had a tendency to place sinners above hellborns, but you knew that and used it to your advantage. You couldn't go in as equal; you had to know you were less and make up for it. 

The job itself wasn't all that bad, either. It was a lot of unpaid hours, from the crack of dawn to the dip of the sun or later, but it mostly involved the small details. Coffee, sorting, and delivering mail between sections were hard to mess up. 

There was the rare extra task where someone messed up and they needed someone to cover quickly. 

Today was one of those days. You were at the right place at the right time, sitting by the coffee machine, grabbing yourself your first cup of the day. 

That was when he entered, his shoes tapping on the floor with confident clicks, and when he spoke it commanded attention. 

Mostly because he spoke through every speaker in the building at once. 

"Who here can follow me? No questions asked."

Before anyone could chime in, his monitor did a full rotation of the room, his eyes narrowing when they landed on you. 

Your ear piece buzzed to life. 

"You, follow me. Now." The overlord spoke directly into your ear using the device, and knowing this may be an opportunity of a lifetime, you followed. 

There was no question about who it was: a monitor for a head, control of all technology, and a towering seven feet tall. Vox was the top of the top, and it was hard to believe you were allowed to so much as stand next to him. 

It was hard to keep up with his speed-walking pace, but he eventually led you into the mail elevator, hitting the twelfth floor while he muttered something about incompetence amongst hires and how he always had to take control of every production if he wanted it done right. 

With a ding and the slow release of the elevator doors, he took the lead once more, though this time he was walking slower and backwards, navigating with ease despite looking directly at you. 

"Alrighty intern, ready for your shot at becoming something more? Because our previous voiceover person just walked out on us, and now you'll be covering for them." He stopped with his back against a door, grabbing the handle and awaiting your reply. 

"But I only just spoke to..." 

"You're cute, you know that? How many videos do you think are out there with your voice? I listened to them all the moment I saw you." Vox only smiled wider when his words sunk in; he saw the usual flash of embarrassment as you pondered what he might have seen. Without waiting any longer, he pushed the door open, spinning so he was finally walking normally. 

It was a recording studio, and there were several other employees waiting, mostly those handling the recording equipment and some holding papers. 

Vox sat himself in a comfortable rolling chair in front of the glass window that overlooked the recording studio, spinning to hand you some papers that he took from a demon next to him. 

"Here is your script; all you have to do is read. Make it sound exciting! Something new, something beyond anyone's imagination, is now available to the public!" He put on a voice as he continued, demonstrating what he hoped you could manage. Someone ushered you into the booth and plopped some headphones over your ears. 

"From the top! 3...2..."

The whole process was a thrill, but you managed to run over the script in three separate recordings, of which Vox cited them all as 'stunning' or 'absolutely perfect!', though the producer claimed to need multiple for any potential recording malfunctions. 

For an overlord, he had been oddly kind and encouraging throughout the process, and he walked you out himself when everything wrapped up. 

Vox continued to speak about what the script was for and how excited he was for the launch, all while leading you through parts of the building you had never been to before. You thought after that he would have sent you back down and forgotten everything, but eventually you found yourself in front of your supervisor. 

"Vox! Sir- oh no, had our intern upset you?"

"No, no, not at all. Sorry, what was your name again? Ally? Yeah, listen, Ally, I need you to handle the paperwork they were assigned. Oh! And I want them promoted to my personal studio for tomorrow, too."

Before you or the sinner could ask questions, Vox was already out of there, chipper as ever. 

That evening, you went home with an upgraded badge and access card, along with details on your new position and expectations. It was a lot to get through, but you felt extremely proud of yourself for doing so well. Hell, you met THE Vox, and he wanted you to be the voice of VoxTek? 

While flipping through the pile of information, the most surprising aspect was the six-figure salary you were about to get started on. 

. . .

Surrounded by monitors, Vox watched various camera feeds as they traced your steps home. Vox saw you smile from several angles, the electricity between his antennae flickering. Each monitor had some kind of file or piece of information on you, and he was only pulled out of his trance when he got a call from Velvette. 

"Hello there, Velvette! What can I help you with today?" Leaning back in his chair, the overlord flicked his wrist, which shot the call from his monitor onto one of the many others displaying you. 

"I need your guys for a sh- wait. Vox, what the fuck is all of that?" While the fashionista originally had her eyes elsewhere, her gaze quickly fixed on his background, which was quickly followed by all the screens going blank with his logo. 

"That? Oh, oh no, its nothing at a-" 

"That's the imp you were talking about last week! The one you were trying to get to apply to VoxTek!" 

"Well, maybe, but-"

Once again, she cut him off with a gurgling groan. 

"Listen, I don't care who or what you fuck; just get your camera crew here and we'll talk about this later. Kay? Kisses!" Before she abruptly hung up on him, he could have sworn he heard a small 'at least they're hot' before the call disconnected. 

Tensed from the interaction, Vox could only groan and dramatically fall back into his chair, tapping his claws along the armrest. 

So what if he scouted you out? You didn't know that, and you were happy about it anyway! One by one, each monitor opened back up on your data, the overlord grinning. 

It was better this way; everyone would think it was the intern going after him, so nobody knew one of the top overlords in hell was dotting on some helpless imp.

Author's Note - I love Vox so much...hes so obsessive but he denies every accusation (its the same w Alastor lmao) like its going to hurt him! But thank you so much for the request Nia, I hope this interests you 🖤

Word Count - 1,219

[aviradasa]

Maybe an Aaravos x reader where reader is Leola’s step parent? Like maybe mr. Aara-dilf introduces the two when Leola was she was slightly older — maybe like 9 or 10 (or the star touched elf equivalent idk bro). How would their relationship and dynamic play out? 🤔

Omg hey mootie! I absolutely love this and I hope it's alright that I decided to write this in a headcannon format instead! It's just a little blurb bit if you like it I would be happy to write more!

Aaravos introducing you to his daughter

Aaravos x reader HC

Requests are open in my inbox!

{Pure Fluff <3}

warnings: none <3

Check out the other parts in this string of oneshots!

Masterlist

Aaravos getting ready to propose to you with the help of leola

Teenage!Leolas fist partner is human how do you and Aaravos react?

You and Teenage!Leola sync up during that time of month. Aaravos is done

You and Aaravos had been seeing each other for a while now, and it was going amazing

One day, you both were walking about on a little date if you would, when he decided to ask you one of the most horrifying questions known to mankind

"Would you be inclined to meet my daughter?"

It's not that it was scary because of who she was but mostly because you had never been with a man who had a child. And you did not know how his daughter would react.

What if he had brought another before you to her and she liked his previous lover better?

What if she just hated you for some reason?

You were terrified. But seeing the look of joy and excitement on his face when you agreed gave you a bit of hope.

When the day comes that you are to meet her Aaravos is pretty convinced his little girl will love you. He had spoken about her many times leading up to this day, like how she was very smart and loved making friends with everybody. It was really sweet

When you first meet Leola, she's curious about you; she even looks at her dad and says, "What is this?" And you weren't sure if she was talking about you or the situation.

But as the day goes on leola warms up to you really fast. Like within a couple hours you have become her best friend.

And as your relationship with Aaravos and leola grows and you start coming around more often she just gets more attached.

She asks her dad about you all the time

"When's y/n coming over again?"

"Is y/n coming over today?

"Y/n would love this!"

"I wanna see y/n"

Like she asks about you so much Aaravos starts low-key getting jealous,but he finds it adorable that leola loves you so much.

If at one point you move in with them leola is fucking ecstatic.

She is so happy her best friend is now living with her and her dad

Like she's probably happier then Aaravos about it.

After awhile though she slowly starts giving you a parental title

When it happened the first time, you thought it was a slip-up, but as time went on, Leola just adopted you as her second parent, and neither you nor Aaravos corrected her.

As a matter of fact, it makes Aaravos love you even more. He is so happy he has found someone that he loves and cares for who is not only amazing with his little unicorn, but that she also loves enough to start deeming you a parental figure

It honestly makes him want to marry you. 🤭 (I will make a part two with proposal HC / oneshot if yall want me to)

[obsessedwhyyes]

The Art of Not Admitting a Thing (1/2)

Summary: You can't help but notice that Gale and Astarion have been acting... differently towards one another lately. Perhaps it's time to investigate!

Alternatively: one simple question leads to some big thoughts!

Rating: T Word Count: 1177 Pairing: Astarion x Gale Content: First Person Gale POV, interview format, mutual pining, yearning, denial of feelings, character study, Gale is bad at feelings, fluff, a teensy bit of angst but not much!

A/N: So here we have my first ever Bloodweave! I am both exceedingly nervous, and very excited about it. I've had ideas in mind for Bloodweave for months, but actually writing these ideas and sending them off into the big, wide world has been a rather intimidating affair. But we're finally doing it! And what better way for me to dip my toe into Bloodweave waters than by being incredibly predictable and writing yet another first person fic?

Chapter 1: "What do you think of Astarion?"

What do I think of Astarion? Well, that's a rather loaded question, is it not? Not that I don't have an answer, of course. No, quite the opposite, actually. I have too many answers, all vying for precedence. Because, you see, Astarion is not the sort of person one can sum up in a single sentiment. He is… how shall I put this? He is an equation with variables that simply refuse to behave. Utterly unsolvable.

Come now, don't look at me like that.

It’s just that Astarion is - well, to put it plainly - a lot. A relentless force of nature wrapped in silk and a layer of his own smugness. He walks into a room and suddenly you're aware of him. No, not just aware - attuned. It's all deliberate, of course. All part of the performance.

Yet, somehow, despite knowing it's all a performance, I still find myself watching.

And it's not just his presence. He's also clever, which is, dare I say, the most irritating thing about him. Not just sharp-witted, but… strategic. He understands people, knows exactly where to sink his teeth. Not just the literal ones - though those certainly warrant consideration - but also the more subtle. A smile, a look, a well-placed word. He plays people like instruments, plucking their strings just so, and I… Well, I have spent a great deal of time telling myself that I, of all people, should be immune to such things.

Alas, I am not immune. 

Which, of course, presents something of a metaphysical conundrum. Feelings, after all, are best understood when dissected. Laid bare and examined like lines in an ancient tome. One does not simply experience something without questioning its nature, its source, its… implications. No, the wise approach - the rational approach - is to study it with the same rigour that one would apply to any magical phenomenon. To categorise it, to determine whether it is genuine or merely some arcane anomaly. A peculiar resonance of the heart, if you will.

And so, in pursuit of intellectual honesty, I find myself studying Astarion with perhaps more dedication than strictly necessary. Any lingering thoughts are purely academic, I assure you. Elminster once told me that understanding the world means understanding its people, and what is Astarion if not a mystery to be unravelled? The way he moves, the way he speaks, the way he wields his beauty like a blade.

… Yes, he is beautiful, but that is besides the point. The point is–

…

I've lost the point.

That's what he does to me, you know. He derails my thoughts. I'm speaking perfectly rationally one moment, and the next, I'm somewhere else entirely, wondering if that grace comes naturally to him. If, behind closed doors, he rehearses those cutting remarks, those honeyed words.

Of course, I’m hardly special in that regard. I’ve seen him turn those honeyed words on just about everyone. He gives people what they want with such artful sincerity that they can’t help but believe him. He doesn’t mean it - not truly. And I would be a fool to imagine I’m any different. The world is his stage, and he is quite the performer.

And yet…

There are things about him. Real things. Beneath those rakish charms. I see them sometimes, in the quiet moments, when he doesn't realise anyone's watching. A weariness. A wariness. He's always aware, it seems. Of every room he walks into, of every person in it, of where the exits are. I recognise that sort of awareness. It's the kind you learn when you have been made someone's pawn for too long. When you've spent years convincing yourself that you're the one holding the strings, only to realise the strings are wrapped around your throat.

It unsettles me.

Dare I say, it even hurts me.

Not that I would ever say so. I doubt he would ever want to hear it. I doubt he would believe it.

And, anyway, it's not as if–

Not as if what?

No, truly, what was I about to say? That it's not as if I care? That would be a lie. That it's not as if I think about him more than I should? That would be another.

Perhaps I should stop talking.

…

You know, there was a time where I thought myself above this sort of thing. I thought I understood love completely. How could I not? I had experienced love in its most divine form - quite literally, in fact. My devotion to Mystra is… was… something transcendent. Something cosmic. I thought that was all love could be. All it should be. That anything less would be settling for a pale imitation of true devotion.

But lately, I find myself wondering if perhaps I’ve been rather short-sighted about the whole thing. Mystra herself appears in many forms; adapts to what her followers need. Perhaps love is similar - not always a grand, cosmic force that reshapes reality, but something more… subtle? The way a person looks at you when they think you aren't watching. The way their voice changes when you say their name. The way they make you feel like you are something more than what you were before. 

But if I did feel something - hypothetically, of course - it would hardly matter. Because what could I possibly offer him? A man who’s spent centuries under the control of another, only to find himself finally tasting freedom… What could he possibly want with someone like me? A wizard with borrowed time, carrying within him a responsibility so great that I am expected - destined - to lay down my life for it?

I’ve seen the fire in his eyes when faced with that which threatens to cage him. That fierce, burning defiance - the look of a man who has faced centuries of servitude and vowed never to be chained again. And what would I be, if not another form of binding? Another tragedy waiting to unfold? No. No, I wouldn’t blame him if he wanted nothing to do with such complications.

And yet… sometimes, I wonder.

If things were different - if I were different… If my fate weren’t already destined to end in sacrifice, would he look at me differently?

If he did - and that’s a big “if” - would I be so willing to accept that fate? To willingly embrace my end, if it meant never knowing what this - what we - might have become?

I was so sure the answer was simple. But then he looks at me, and for just a moment, I feel something I thought was long beyond my grasp. A foolish, reckless thing. It makes me hesitate.

And hesitation, well… that’s dangerous, isn’t it?

But stranger things have happened.

… Perhaps I have rather a lot to think about.

But I believe I’ve taken up quite enough of your time with these philosophical meanderings. No doubt you have better things to do than listen to a wizard ramble about matters of the heart. Besides, I have some rather important reading waiting for me. Something about… well, anything other than this conversation, really.

Masterlist can be found here!

No Pressure Tags: @roguishcat, @davenswitcher, @silverfangmarks, @sparrowbard, @chonkercatto, @stokzr , @trafalgarussy , @asterordinary , @bite-me-tonight , @transparentkittenheart , @vividiana (thank you for being so supportive with this one <3), @bg3-fanfic-reblogs

[ang3lofdivinity]

🎐⋅˚₊‧𝖫𝗈𝗏𝖾’𝗌 𝖠𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗍𝗂𝗍𝖾‧₊˚⋅🐚

Relationship(s) :: Jinx + Calypso!fem!reader

Genre :: Fluff, hurt/comfort

Format :: Story

Warnings :: More Arcane season 2 act 3 spoilers! Some implications of SH (reader), a bit more trauma, happy ending, the gods kinda suck, HOMOSEXUALS FINALLY GET TOGETHER!!/hj, kinda inspired by Jorge’s cut song from Epic “Appetite” along with “Would You Fall In Love With Me Again”, Reader gets better at the end here, READER IS NOT CALYPSO - more so takes her place, possibly suggestive at the end?

A/N :: AHHHH I cannot believe I wrote THIS much that I had to make a new part entirely. But nonetheless, happy holidays everyone! I hope everyone stays safe this year and gets some good stuff nevertheless of what you’re celebrating! (Side note: ..Should I turn this into a series with more parts? I’m gonna hold a poll for when the time comes — which will be right after I post this). I hope this lives up to your expectations everyone!! + HAPPY NEW YEARS!! (W.C: 10.6k)

Ⅰ - Ⅱ - Ⅲ

Jinx does not remember how long it has been since you’ve left. And you can say the same.

You’ve only been hiding away for as long as you possibly could without the bluette finding you before she left you, just like all the others. See, this is why you shouldn’t allow your emotions to gain control over you! They’ll take the things you love the most as you’re left there to cry and mourn over their loss. And this time? You actually allowed yourself to fall for their tricks!! You’re so STUPID, aren’t you? You should’ve known that this would’ve never been able to last.

She is a lost mortal, and you are an imprisoned goddess.

And the ones pulling the strings?

The gods above. For they hold more power over the both of you than you could possibly know. Or do they?

You lay down, cured up into yourself as you cry against the forest floor, everything around disappearing. (At least it felt like it, as you had begun to focus on the fact that you were crying for so long, your throat going sore and your eyes getting all red and puffy).

It’s pathetic of you really, all of this is pathetic.

You should’ve never allowed yourself to grow attached, you should’ve never allowed yourself to open up to Jinx, you should’ve KNEW that this was doomed to happen one day! Nothing can ever go right for you, can it now?

‘So whats the next course of action’, you ask yourself.

To wallow in your sorrow for a bit longer. To allow yourself to bawl your eyes out as Jinx is taken from you.

.

Time has become useless as Jinx stands at the edge of the beach, breathing heavily, her fists clenching and unclenching as she grits her teeth.

Does she always have to mess things up?

Does she always have to be the Jinx?

In the wake of your disappearance, she feels something staring at her.

Upon turning around however, she sees..

Some kind of ball of pure light??

It’s almost blinding as she stares at it, the luminosity making it almost impossible to define the shape of the object. Covering her eyes with an arm while groaning, she speaks up.

“Hello?”

“You’ve had your fun, mortal.” A voice booms, distant yet close, vibrating through the air. Though it doesn’t exactly feel like one singular voice, it feels more like.. thousands. Thousands of voices as they echo and vibrate. Its presence feels heavy, suffocating. As if she’s being strangled.

And as they speak, she knows what this is.

“Your presence here has disrupted the balance. She was meant to suffer, to repent. Not to cling to you.”

Jinx glares, lowering her arm to stare at the thing.

“Balance? Suffering? You’re the ones screwing her up, not me.”

“This is not your concern. Leave this place and let her fate proceed as it was written.” The tone of the voices grows sharper, as if she was going to listen to them.

“Over my dead body.” Jinx spits the words like venom.

The form twists in agitation, and the faint sound of crackling can be heard.

“You defy orders from the gods?”

“Damn right I do.” She huffs as she narrows her eyes at the form before her, nails now digging into the flesh of her palms.

“She’s not your pawn anymore. And if you try to keep me from her, I’ll blow this paradise of yours sky-high! I’ve got enough bombs to make that little heaven of yours look like rubble.”

There’s an uncomfortable silence that lingers after her words are spoke, but shortly after - the form slowly turns smaller and less bright, making Jinx thankful.

“Very well,” they finally relent, voice hollow.

“But know this, mortal: your bond with her cannot last. You will only bring her more pain.”

“And you cannot deny our orders forever. We have more power than you possibly imagine.”

With that, the light travels off elsewhere, leaving Jinx alone once more on the empty shore.

You don’t know how long you’ve been walking, the forest endlessly stretching all around you, the grass brushing against your feet as you continue to walk. The crashing of waves still manages to fill your ears, but it is still not able to keep drowning out the chaotic storm of your own thoughts.

It hurts. All of this hurts.

It shouldn’t, but it does anyway.

Leaving her was the only way, you tell yourself. If she stayed, she would forever hate you - wouldn’t she? There was no chance for either of you, ever. There never truly was.

She is a mortal meandering around without the knowledge that lies in the powers of those she barely knows of.

You drag yourself further away from her and deeper into the forest. You stop momentarily, your chest rising and falling with labored breaths, the tears on your cheeks now cold from the salty air from moments before.

Your mind races with images of Jinx from those very moments, however: her wild eyes, her expression as she looked up at you, the way she’d yelled after you, that vulnerability of hers for just a moment.

You kneel on the grassy floor, clutching your head, overwhelmed by the sheer amount of emotions crashing through you. Your tears drip into the blades of grass below, disappearing instantly, as if the island itself were swallowing your grief.

You try to focus on your resolve—to forget her, to let her go.

But it feels like trying to breathe underwater: suffocating and unnatural.

You take a moment before allowing yourself to fall on your side on the islands grassy floor, tears falling one after the other. The mist seems to grow denser ahead, swirling in unnatural patterns even as you lay on your side. Eventually, you find yourself squinting, unsure if your mind is playing tricks on you or if something, or someone, is moving within it.

Before you can decide, you hear it: a low hum, resonating in your chest like the strum of a string on a rather angelic instrument. The sound is faint, but it pulls at you, compelling you to rise. Against your better judgment, you lift yourself up by your elbows, staring at the mist as it.. contorts into something.

You should turn back, shouldn’t you?

But you don’t.

A soft, distant voice cuts through the silence surrounding you, faint and trembling, as though carried by the wind. At first, you can’t make out the words, but as you lean closer, they grow clearer:

“She’ll come for you.”

The voice isn’t Jinx’s, but it echoes with the same determination, the same desperation. Your breath catches in your throat as you shake your head with a bitter laugh, trying to push the voice away, but it clings to you like a shadow.

“No,” you whisper to yourself.

“She can’t. She won’t.”

But the voice is unrelenting, whispering again and again until it drowns out your thoughts entirely:

“She’ll come for you. She always will.”

A shiver runs down your spine, and slowly, you find yourself laying back down on your side, fluttering your eyes closed as you try to make yourself think of something else — ANYTHING ELSE besides this.

And suddenly, your mind wanders the meeting you had last night:

The evening air hung heavy with a solemn stillness, the kind that pressed against your chest and made every breath feel like a burden.

Nevertheless, you sat alone on the cliff’s edge, the ocean sprawling endlessly before you, its waves gently lapping at the rocks far below. The twilight sky melted into soft hues of lavender and rose, but the beauty of the scene was lost on you. It did not matter, you know. You… you really are a monster, you didn’t deserve to enjoy such beautiful moments.

Your hands trembled as they clutched your knees. Your thoughts churned endlessly, circling back to Jinx—her words, her defiance, and the way she just STARED at you after she’d slapped you.

And just as you were thinking of the incident, the faintest whisper of wind brushed past you, some sort of.. odd feeling of a being you couldn’t describe. However, you didn’t need to turn to know who it was; the soothing hum of magic and the faint scent of jasmine told you everything.

“Janna,” you murmured, your voice soft and weary.

The goddess finally stepped into view, her ethereal form seeming to shimmer like sunlight caught in the folds of silk. Her translucent blue robes flowed as though stirred by an unseen breeze. She truly did look like a goddess in this form, much better than some of her others.

“Dear goddess,” Janna spoke, her voice a gentle melody carried by the wind.

“I’ve come to speak with you about the mortal.”

Your chest IMMEDIATELY tightened, your fingers curling into the fabric of your clothes.

“You mean Jinx?..” you whispered, barely audible.

Janna’s gaze softened as she stepped closer to you. Even with her calming presence, you still had the worst feeling pooling within your stomach as you continued to avert your gaze from her.

“Her presence here has caused… ripples. The other gods are restless. They believe her defiance threatens the balance of this island, and of you.”

You shook your head, sighing.

“She’s not a threat. She—she cares about me. She’s just…” Your voice faltered as you tried to explain, to defend Jinx, but the weight of your own guilt dragged the words down.

“She is bold and unyielding,” Janna interrupted gently, her tone neither condemning nor approving.

“And that is why the gods have decided she must leave. For the sake of the island. For your sake.”

Your heart dropped at those words.

“No,” you said, almost instinctively, your voice trembling.

“She doesn’t have to leave. I can handle this. I—I can fix this—”

“(____).” Janna’s voice was soft yet firm before she let out a soft sigh. She knelt beside you, placing a light hand on your shoulder.

“This isn’t about blame. It’s about what is best for you. For her.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you looked at Janna, your lips trembling.

“I mean.. she already hates me,” you whispered.

“She’ll never forgive me if I send her away, though.”

Janna’s expression remained calm, her gaze filled with an ancient understanding.

“Perhaps. But she will live. And so will you.”

Your hands fell limp at her sides, your gaze dropping to the ground. The weight of Janna’s words settled over her like a storm cloud brewing at the distance of the horizon. And as you thought of the way her sharp edges had softened just for you. And yet…

And yet, your mind returns to your failures, your mistakes.

“I’ve done terrible things,” You whispered, your voice barely audible once again.

“Hurt people. Hurt her. She deserves better than this.” You swallowed hard, closing your eyes against the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm her.

“Maybe… maybe the gods are right. Maybe she should leave. It’s for the best.”

Janna’s gaze lingered on you for a moment, as though searching for the truth in your words. Finally, the goddess rose from beside you, hands folded behind her back.

“The choice is yours, Dear Goddess. But know this: love is not something the gods take lightly. What you share with her is rare… precious. Do not cast it aside without understanding the weight of what you will lose.”

With that, Janna turned and began to fade into the soft hues of the twilight, her presence dispersing like mist on the wind.

You remained seated, your shoulders hunched as silent tears traced paths down your cheeks.

Jinx would be better off far from her, far from the island and its burdens, wouldn’t she?

And yet, as the stars began to dot the sky above, a small voice within you whispered that she was breaking something she could never truly repair.

A warm liquid trickles down your cheek.

As you reach up, you realize it's a tear.

Ah, you didn’t even realize it.

You let out a small bitter laugh, falling back down on your side before your shifted, now looking up at the midnight sky above you.

So beautiful..

But beauty cannot erase the pain that all of these actions have caused.

And so, now you find yourself slipping in and out of consciousness - eyes fluttering every once in a while.

It takes you a while, but slumber finally finds you, and you have one of the most terrible nights of rest ever.

Days, or maybe even weeks, pass in silence on the island once more much to Jinx’s displeasure. You’ve both done this so many times, it’s gotten annoying. But she cannot find you anywhere she looks as desperate as she tries, though remains stubbornly on the island, refusing to give up on you. To waste the time, she spends hours tinkering with gadgets or staring out at the ocean, muttering curses at the gods under her breath.

Then one evening, as the sun bleeds crimson into the horizon, you finally return. You’re quiet and pale, all of your happiness dulled, as though the island itself has leeched off of your energy.

And Jinx doesn’t waste a second upon seeing you enter the walk closer to her near the shore.

“Trinket.” She stands up, heart pounding as she approaches cautiously.

You avert your gaze from her, taking a shaky deep breath.

“You should’ve left.”

“Not gonna happen.” Jinx steps closer, her voice softening.

“You’re not alone anymore. I told you I’m not leaving.”

You shake your head, tears already welling in your eyes.

“Why do you keep fighting for me? I’m broken. I’ve ruined everything. Besides, if you stay here.. you’ll never be able to see the outside world again!”

Jinx stops just inches from her and cups your cheek—this time, her touch is gentle, her fingers lingering where they’d once struck you.

“You’re not broken, Angel. You’re just scared. Same as me.”

You look up, startled by the tenderness in Jinx’s voice.

“I said things I didn’t mean. I know messed up.” Jinx’s voice catches, something you might’ve not noticed if you weren’t paying so much attention to each of her words.

“But you’re the only person who’s ever made me feel like I’m not some lost cause, that I'm worth fighting for. So if you think I’m giving that up- giving you up? You’re dumber than you look.”

A tear slips down your cheek as you laugh faintly, a small smile gracing your lips.

“You always have a way with words, Pixie, don’t you?” Jinx grins at the small comment before chuckling herself.

“Yeah, yeah. Just shut up and let me fix this.”

You hesitate for a moment before falling into Jinx’s arms. For the first time in what feels like centuries, you let yourself believe, just a little, that you’re not alone anymore.

Jinx holds you impossibly close, feeling the weight of your trembling shoulders against her own. For a long moment, neither of you speak. The quiet is only broken by the rhythm of the waves against the shore nearby.

The last light of the sun bathes the two of you in hues of gold and crimson, as if the world itself were holding its breath for you both.

Jinx pulls back just enough to meet your gaze. She wipes away the tear on your cheek with her thumb, her hand lingering there for a second longer than necessary.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily, trinket.” Her voice is quieter now, lacking its usual sharp edges that she spoke so casually with usually.

“You can try to push me away, yell at me, slap me if you want, but I’m staying here. Because I want to. Because you… mean something to me.”

Your lips part as though to say something, but no words come out. Your heart feels as though it’s caught in your throat, something warm pooling within your chest as you stare at her.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Jinx murmurs with a faint, nervous grin.

“Like I’m saying something stupid..”

You shake your head quickly, your hands gripping the front of Jinx’s top, as though afraid to let go - that if you did, she’d disappear.

“You’re not. You’re… you’re really not.” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

Jinx’s grin falters as she leans closer, searching your eyes for any trace of doubt.

“I don’t care what the gods say. I don’t care about whatever twisted plans they have for you. You’re mine, Angel. And I…” She hesitates for the first time, the words heavy on her tongue. She’s scared.

But..

“I love you.”

You freeze, your breath hitching while your eyes widen at the bluette’s words.

Jinx laughs nervously, rubbing the back of her neck.

“There. I said it. Now you can—”

“You love me?” You cut her off, your voice wavering as you say each syllable. Your expression is something more akin to joy.

Genuine and authentic joy.

Something you haven’t allowed yourself to feel in so long.

Jinx smirks faintly at you.

“Yeah, I do. And don’t you dare make me say it again.”

You laugh through your tears, and you quickly cup Jinx’s face with both hands. And this time? Your touch is soft, steady, and filled with the tenderness as the words the woman before you had just spoken.

“You’re not the only one who’s afraid,” you admit, your own voice shaking. But neither of you seem to mind.

“Jinx… I love you too. I think I always have. From the moment you washed ashore, even with how weird that sounds.”

Jinx blinks, her breath catching at the words before her lips curl into a soft, genuine smile.

“Well, would you look at that? Guess we’re both messed up, huh?”

“I guess so.” You take a deep breath, grinning with delight.

Jinx chuckles softly as your hands slide to her shoulders, pulling her closer. Neither of you hesitates this time. And your lips meet in a kiss. It’s soft and tender, something you wish could last forever. The ocean wind seems to still for the moments as you both are too immersed within the kiss, hell— it feels like everything has just stopped entirely, and that it’s just the both of you here.

When you both finally pull back, Jinx grins, her forehead resting against your own.

“Took us long enough, didn’t it?”

“It doesn’t matter how long it took. You’re here now.” You replied, gently booping her nose as you smile wider.

and she gets an.. idea.

“One more, then? I think my appetite has grown for more than just some food tonight.” Jinx smirks, pulling you closer to her by your hips

You find yourself giggling before you nod, capturing her lips in a kiss once more.

The gods watch in silence from their unseen perch, all coalesced together as they stare down at you both.

Who would’ve known that sheer love for one another could foil their plans?

“I think they’re quite cute together!” One exclaims, before quickly being nudged by another god

“Still. She’s meant to suffer, not find LOVE!” The god yelps, hands on their hips.

“What do we even do?” Another asks with a soft tone, fidgeting with their fingers.

Silence overpowers the perch before whispers begin to spread from all around, gods talking amongst themselves of what to do before one raises a hand, causing all of the ones around them immediately silence, listening to what the figure had to say.

“We sit and watch for now. If anything needs to happen, however..” They pause for a mere second before continuing.

“We’ll be sure to take care of it.”

Calypso!Reader and Jinx masterlist

[whipped-for-kpop-fics]

Down To Clown - M.YG

💦Who; Min Yoongi (BTS) x reader 💦What; Smut, producer/idol au/verse, friends to fuckers 💦Wordcount; 14kish 💦Warnings; they are both bi/pan, profanity, dirty talk, switch yoongi, switch reader, anal fingering(m), crying with pleasure, coming untouched, sex toys, lingerie, oral (m&f), marks, pegging, anal sex, multiple orgasms, oral fixation, biting, fingering, mentions of being infertile through choice, sex without a condom, penetrative sex, piv sex, cockwarming, somnophilia, choking, squirting, minor blood, mentions of knife play(it is not explored in this story)

Summary; You ask to finger one of your closest friends, he says yes and things get real fun after that.

Minors do NOT interact, which means reblogging/commenting on this story. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in the bio. -2024 Masterlist- Ao3 link

A/N- this was actually started 3 years ago with an OC so that i could get out my fantasy of topping yoongles, which means this was extremely self-indulgent. I just want to make Yoongi cry okay I've edited to the best of my abilities to change it from an OC to reader but if I've missed any pieces, pretend otherwise, thanks <3 @wonuvs enjoy, sweetheart 💖

Edited 25/10/24 - just grammar, formatting etc

The dark-haired rapper looks over exasperatedly at the third call of his name. "What?" He huffs when you don't say anything from where you're sitting cross-legged on the couch and instead choose to hold his gaze with wide, round eyes that he would call innocent if he didn't know you better than that by now.

"You've been with guys, right?" You question slowly.

"Yeah?"

"And you've bottomed?"

"You already know this. Get to the point."

"I'm working on it," you pout, absently tracing your fingers over the strings of the guitar laid across your lap. "So, you've had fingers in your ass?"

"Jesus, what the fuck?" He sputters in genuine shock at your out-of-the-blue question.

"You said get to the point!"

"I didn't think it would be about my ass,"

"It's not, really, just...asses in general. The male ass. With fingers. Guys getting fingered."

"Were you watching porn while hanging out with me?" He deadpans unimpressed.

"No." He gives you a disbelieving look. "Well not intentionally. I was on Twitter minding my own business and suddenly, bam! There was a gif of a guy getting fingered."

"So, you decided to watch it?"

"Yes."

"Despite the fact that you claim to not watch porn?"

"I don't. Never been interested." You shrug, and as much as Yoongi wants to argue and point out that people who aren't interested in porn don't watch porn gifs, he can't because he can see that you are being entirely honest.

"Right, okay." He lets out a breath, it sounds suspiciously like an exasperated sigh. "So, you watched this gif and decided to bring up my sex life?"

"Well, I've always been curious about fingering a guy like, what it feels like and the prostate sounds interesting like can you actually feel it? It's wild, man."

"You want to finger a guy?" He gawps, surprised by the revelation. You just nod.  "Seriously?"

"Yeah. Originally, I just wanted to peg a guy, I wanna know if I'd be any good with a dick and something about fucking a guy is really hot."

"I don't even know what to say," he murmurs truthfully. You shrug and run your hands over the guitar again, which draws his attention. "Well...your nails are short at least," he comments quietly.

"Easier for playing guitar and with myself."

"Holy fuck, you can't just..." He exhales and rubs his hands over his face.

"Sorry. I'm frustrated and my filter always vanishes when I'm like this."

"Frustrated about wanting to finger a guy?" He questions, dropping his hands onto his thighs carelessly to look at you again.

"Well, yeah, I guess but I meant sexually frustrated, like horny."

"Fuck me," Yoongi murmurs softly, but due to the lack of activity going on in the room you hear it loud and clear.

"I don't have a strap-on," you reply with a frown that looks oddly genuine.

"A strap-on...wait, I wasn't like, asking," he rushes out, cheeks flushed as he understands what you mean.

"Oh," your frown turns further downwards. "I'd probably be bad anyway."

"I've seen you dance, you can move your hips," he admits gruffly.

"Oh...in that case, your loss. I'd make you cum really good."

"Shut up," Yoongi grunts and shuffles in his seat while diverting his gaze elsewhere.

"Sorry." You remove the guitar from your lap to prop it back on its stand beside the couch without even getting up. Then, you stretch out and slouch slightly so that you can rest your head on the back of the couch with your bare feet planted firmly on the floor, legs spread in a way that your mother always scolded you for as it is 'unlady like'. "It's for the best anyway, I don't want to get sexually involved with someone who would just be thinking of someone else the whole time, you know?"

"What? Why are you assuming I'd be doing that?" He squares his eyes almost accusingly at you while crossing his arms over his chest.

"Because you're not attracted to me like that," your response is simple, easy, as if it is common knowledge; a fact of the world you had learned a long time ago.

"Who says?" You raise a challenging eyebrow. "I'm not blind, you're hot as fuck."

"Doesn't mean you're down to clown though."

"Not if you keep talking like that," he huffs, sitting back further in his chair.

You straighten a little with hope beginning to sparkle in your eyes. "That sounds like you'd at least consider it if I used other phrasing."

Yoongi says nothing and keeps his lips pressed together. The smirk that lifts your lips tells him that he's about to meet a version of you that he has only seen in the dreams he will never admit to waking up hard from- sometimes even shaking and coming down from an orgasm.

You sit up until you're fully upright, though your legs remain spread and Yoongi hates how it does something for him, how much it does for him. He has never before experienced a cocky female who isn't afraid to hold herself in a stereotypical male way, and honestly, it's the best of both worlds for him.

"Yoongi, Yoonie, babyboy," you coo, and he scoffs at the final term if only to hide and deny the blush winding up his neck. "Will you let me fuck you? Can I put my fingers in that pretty, perky ass of yours until you cum? Fuck, I bet you'd look so good being edged, so overwhelmed that you can't help but cry and babble absolute fucking nonsense while begging to cum," you murmur out, dark eyes growing heavier by the second.

"Fuck," Yoongi whispers, dick twitching in his boxers.

You don't respond and simply lean your right elbow on the backrest to lean your head against your fist. You just watch him, waiting; so patient for a response.

Almost as if you're playing with him, taunting, teasing, offering him the best seat in the house if only he is brave enough to admit to wanting it, and taking the first step.

Part of him is certain that you aren't doing that at all, that you are genuinely just waiting for him to think it over. That you're not willing to rush him or put any pressure on him to answer in a particular way. But a brand new part of him doesn't have a fucking clue what you're capable of in the bedroom.

After a tense handful of moments where you simply hold each other's gaze while Yoongi's mind runs wild hidden safely behind his eyes, he turns back to his desk.

Even though you're disappointed, you had honestly expected as much, so you don't stop to sulk or pout and instead reach back towards the guitar. You barely have your hand around the neck when you hear a drawer close a little too forcefully, especially as it's by Yoongi's hand, so you look back up and find that his computer programs are closed and only a music app is open. You release your grasp on the instrument and settle back to watch curiously.

Yoongi finds a playlist that you two often listen to; something full of smooth beats and low voices.

As the first song starts, he gets up and turns. He has something in his hands but it's hidden, at least until he has crossed the small distance between you to toss it onto the couch seat on your right. You can't help but look down and find a little bottle of lube on the cushion.

"If you're serious about wanting to try, I'm down to clown," he speaks, drawing your attention back. He's nervous and embarrassed, it's obvious to you even if he's trying his best to hide it.

"Most definitely." You nod and straighten up even further before patting your lap firmly. "C'mere."

"You want me on you?"

"You have no idea," you almost snort with your amusement, but hold it back. You pat your thigh again with your left hand while your right picks up the bottle.

"Oh right, uh, okay. Uhm, lemme just..." He quickly unzips his jeans to shuffle out of them and kick them aside, before moving forward to press his left knee on the outside of your right thigh. "I'm heavier than I look," he warns while gingerly placing his right knee on the other side of your thighs, one hand pushed against the backrest beside your shoulder for stability.

You roll your eyes and grab his hips to pull his body onto your lap. Yoongi hiccups on an inhale in surprise at the sudden action which leaves him perched on your stable thighs with wide eyes. "I can handle it, don't worry."

"You should know," he rushes out quickly, causing your hands to halt where they have started to run over his thighs; curious to explore the skin you have never seen exposed on him before. "I already cleaned up, I do every shower-"

"I know."

"H-how?"

"You told me when drunk once that you like to always be prepared to get dicked down. I figured out the rest due to the length of your showers, babe."

"Oh...right..." He chews on his bottom lip, which almost matches the tint on his cheeks. "Oh well, I was going to say that you should always make sure your guy is cleaned first because you know...asshole."

"Yeah, I got it," you grin and squeeze his thigh supportively, which only makes him jolt. "Are you sure you want to do this, Yoongi? I really won't be offended if you don't. I don't want you to be uncomfortable or anything."

"No, no, I do. S'just...we've been friends for a while now and I never thought anything like this would happen between us. And I haven't been touched by anyone but myself in so long it kind of feels like the first time."

"I'll go slow."

"I know. I trust you. Wouldn't be doing this otherwise," he huffs out a small laugh.

"I'm glad. I trust you too." You smile at each other for a moment; allowing the moment to get used to what you're planning to do, even only a little. "So, Mr Min, you're in charge here, I've no fucking clue what I'm doing so you kind of need to lead me."

"Oh, right, yeah." He inhales, then pushes up a little to shimmy his boxers down under the crease where his ass meets his thighs, it allows him to keep his crotch hidden by the material just in case his t-shirt doesn't. He isn't quite prepared for one of his closest friends to see his flaccid dick, no matter what you're about to get up to.

When he settles back down, he's unable to look in your eyes but you don't make him knowing how shy he must feel right now.

"So uhm...you can start dry if you want, if you want to feel and get used to touching, just don't try and push in."

"You're okay with that?" He nods and takes the lube to fiddle with the bottle and free your right hand. You wait a second, just in case, before moving your hand around his body to curiously trail your fingers over his smooth ass, humming in approval at the lack of hair at all. "Smooth."

"Yeah I uhm, I shave," he admits.

"Must be awkward."

"A little." He sucks on his lip when your fingertip finds his rim and traces over it gently in an almost featherlight touch. "S'weird, right? Girls find it weird usually. For guys to be shaved."

"I don't like body hair on anyone regardless of gender. Wouldn't bother me much if you did have it, just that being hair-free is my preference."

"Does that mean you shave too?" He pointedly glances at your crotch.

"Wax, lasts longer."

"Oh." He swallows when your left hand leaves his thigh to pluck the bottle from his hands, giving him nothing to fiddle with. "I-I thought about trying but uh...seems hard to do alone."

"Yeah, kind of is," you admit, laughing softly and focusing on Yoongi's reactions to the sound of a cap opening and lube squirting out.

He lifts his right hand absently to chew on the skin beside his thumb; an anxiety fuelled habit he's working hard to quit.

"Hey." You lean forward to nudge the top of his head with your nose. He lifts it just enough to peer at you. "We can stop, seriously," you offer, tone genuine and soft.

He shakes his head and quickly lowers his hand to grasp your shirt as if he has only just realised what he's doing to his poor fingers. "I want to. Just nervous."

"What usually helps you relax with a partner?"

"Kissing."

"Do you want to kiss?" He blinks a few times before finding his eyes on your lips almost like he has never seen them before. "I'm more than happy to kiss you if it helps, baby."

"O-okay," He nods.

"No, not okay. Don't just agree with me, this won't work if you're not 100%, Yoongi."

"I am." He nods, firmer and more confidently. "I want to. Wanna kiss you."

"Alright," you agree with a short nod of your own. The syllables almost get sucked back into your throat when Yoongi suddenly surges forward to connect your mouths.

You wait for a few minutes until Yoongi is entirely absorbed in kissing before you press slick fingers against his rim. He jolts, and his mouth falters for a second before moving again; slower than before as if he's too busy focusing on what's about to happen compared to what he's doing. You don't blame him.

At first, you just circle his hole curiously until he squirms a little impatiently, and only then do you edge the tip of your index finger inside. Yoongi inhales sharply but doesn't jump or pull away. You wriggle your finger a little before pushing in further.

"You gotta let me know if I hurt you," you warn once your finger is in as far as possible. Yoongi nods in agreement and reconnects your lips by grabbing your face and pulling it back to his. You chuckle with amusement against his lips, though are more than happy to follow his wishes.

You start a gentle, curious rhythm of softly prodding around inside, punctuated with sliding your finger out then back in.

"M-more," he breathes out in no time at all, so you comply, pulling your finger out to return with another beside it. Yoongi lets out a soft moan at the barely there stretch, just a little more pressure at your knuckles that makes him sigh happily.

"It's okay?" You wonder.

"Y-yeah, can go a little faster if you want."

"Okay, baby," you agree, doing as asked knowing it's more of a request than a suggestion. He's too shy to ask for what he wants so you're going to have to read between the lines and you've already mentally prepared yourself for that.

You watch his reactions to your ministrations, his closed eyes and parted lips, as his hips take barely noticeable movements; which you follow to do the best you can for him.

Up until this point, you have entirely avoided his prostate. Yoongi assumes it's because you don't know where it is, that you are getting used to everything else first before trying to search for it. But you know where it is and haven't wanted to touch it yet. You want Yoongi to genuinely get used to your touch and enjoy it without his prostate being brought in.

When you pull your hand out and away entirely, his eyes open and he frowns at you with a little whine of complaint. "Why'd you stop? Are you finished?"

"No," you laugh and shuffle you both a little so that you can slide your arm in the gap between your spread thighs to reach underneath him and slide your fingers back inside. "This angle is better." You smirk and crook your fingers forward to press directly on his prostate. Yoongi's eyes roll back and he moans loudly. "Right?"

"F-fuck, I-I thought you didn't know..."

"What, where the prostate is?" You laugh as he wriggles on your hands at the attack of your fingertips relentlessly rubbing the sensitive patch. "I know exactly where it is, I've just never put it to use before."

"You su-sure?" His fingers knot in your hair when you wrap your free arm tight around his waist to hold him still, preventing his movements. "Shit, fuck."

"You like being held still?"

"Fuck off."

"Oh, really?" Suddenly, you stop your attack and pull out to lean back against the backrest with your elbows resting on the back. You lean your head on your left palm, the clean one, as the lube-slicked hand hangs limply.

"Wh-what?" Yoongi's eyes are wide with betrayal and desperation. "N-no, no, don't stop. Put your fingers back in my ass, come on," he whines, tugging at your arm, but you hold it firmly in place making him whine and bounce a little with frustration. "Please?"

"Good boy." Your right hand hovers between your bodies. "More lube."

He nods and obediently squirts out a fair amount of lube onto your waiting fingers. "Three now?"

"You want three?" You hum questioningly, sliding your arm back underneath to rub three fingers against his rim. He nods enthusiastically and tries to tilt his hips in a way to make them slide inside, yet you always move away with a grin.

"You're so mean."

"I am." He pouts cutely, making you giggle. "Okay, baby, I'll play nice." And you do; you slide two fingers back inside to stretch him out a bit more, then add the third. "That okay?" You ask, moving carefully to allow him time to get used to it.

"Y-yeah, s'good."

"Yeah?" He nods and circles his hips down against your hand. "Can you cum untouched?"

Yoongi falls still and opens his eyes to look at you; he honestly hadn't even realised that his eyes closed in the first place. "I've never tried," he admits.

"Can we try? I think it'd be really hot."

"Oh uh, okay," he agrees, cheeks flushing a little darker than the pleasure and slight exertion already has them.

"You can change your mind at any time, okay?"

"I know," he agrees, giving you a shy smile before leaning forward to return his lips to yours, so you straighten up and move your left arm from the back of the couch to wrap back around him.

You let him get used to the rhythm of your slow, deep kiss, which you've matched the movements of your fingers and he his hips to, before without warning, you push in harder and faster. Yoongi hiccups on a breath, which he doesn't have time to regulate before you pull out and repeat the action causing your hand to slap against his ass a little.

What follows is a string of whines and groans and swears from Yoongi's open mouth, head tipped back and hips bouncing. "So good, you're so good," he pants out, on the verge of mindlessness.

"I can be better," you promise. Yoongi's hole clenches at the thought, making you groan a little. "You're so fucking hot, Yoongi."

Yoongi gasps and bounces harder feeling his climax nearing. Your fingers curl and rub against his prostate with every thrust and his movements grow more desperate. Your left arm returns around his waist to hold him still and force him to just take it, which causes an almost sob to break from his throat.

"G-gonna cum," he announces, instinctively moving his hand between your bodies, but you remove your arm from around his waist to slap his hand away from where he almost has his cock in hand.

"Don't touch."

"Can't help it. Need it," he all but sobs while looking at you with wet, hooded eyes.

"No, you don't."

"But-" He reaches out again, and you huff in frustration before pulling your fingers out of his ass. "No! No! No! M'sorry! I'll be good!" He begs. "Don't stop, please."

"I won't, baby, it's okay, I'm going to make you cum," you assure soothingly and press a kiss to his lips while wiping the tears trickling down his ruddy cheeks. "But you're unable to not touch yourself so we need to move."

"M-move?" He sniffles.

"On your back." He nods and scrambles off of your lap to lay on his back on the couch. He kicks off his boxers and spreads his legs ready for you. You admire him for a moment, and only move when he wriggles self-consciously. "Sorry. You're so beautiful, you know that?"

"M'not," he huffs, looking away as you turn to settle between his thighs on your knees and lay his thighs over your own.

"You are, don't argue with me."

He pouts but doesn't argue further, which you find very interesting. He has essentially submitted to you and all it took was having his prostate touched.

For a moment, you stop to wonder if he's always that quick to submit or if it's because he trusts you and hasn't been touched by a hand except his own in so long.

After roaming your eyes over his pliant body under you, you decide that it's a thought for later though and wriggle a pillow behind his head to prop him up just a little into a more comfortable position against the armrest.

"Hands above your head, baby." He listens and lifts both arms to lay the backs of his hands against the armrest. When you lean over and cover his wrists with your left hand to pin them down, his eyes blow wide and a shiver runs through his body. "Oh, that is a very interesting reaction, sweetheart, we'll have to talk about it later but now." You slide your fingers back into him, loving the way his eyes immediately roll back and his back arches slightly as your fingertips drag over his prostate.

In this position, you can't stop Yoongi's hips jerking and doing their best to fuck himself back on your fingers that force consistent full moans from his open mouth that sound like they come from the bottom of his chest.

It's clear when Yoongi's teetering on the edge of his climax as his tone grows higher and his movements more desperate while his arms fight to be freed so that he can touch himself.

"Come on, baby, you can do it. Let me see how messy you can get without your cock being touched, huh? Gonna let me see what good boys can do, hm?" You encourage with your eyes darting all over him; stuck between watching his face, and the outline of his cock hidden underneath his t-shirt due to the fact neither of you had thought to move it. You really wish you had pushed it up because the thought of seeing Yoongi cum all over himself probably does a little too much for you to be able to admit.

"M'a good boy," he parrots mindlessly.

"Prove it. Cum for me."

He whines and his legs pull up towards his torso as his body curls in a little before a loud, long moan tears from his throat while his legs push out and his back arches, pushing his chest towards you with the force of his orgasm surging through his body. You remove the pressure on his prostate and slow your movements down enough to not overstimulate or hurt, yet still ride him through the pleasure with the slow drag.

When he slumps against the seat, chest shuddering with his heavy breaths, you gently remove your fingers making him shudder a little and whimper.

"It's okay, baby, you did so good for me. Such a good boy, thank you." You release his wrists, yet he makes no attempt to move, too tired from the most intense orgasm he has ever experienced. "I'm going to get some tissues from your desk, okay? I'll be right back." Yoongi frowns and pouts at the thought of being left, yet does nothing else, doesn't even open his eyes until you're back and gently wiping the lube from his ass. "Hey." You smile up at him when you notice he's more with it again, or at least enough to open his eyes. He pouts further. "What?"

"Kisses."

"Oh." You giggle and obligingly lean over him to press your lips to his.

The kiss is much slower and looser than any before; a clear reflection of how sated and lazy Yoongi feels, yet he still wants to kiss and softly lick into your mouth.

When you feel his movements get even slower, almost as if he's falling asleep while making out, you pull back. Yoongi whines and tries to chase your lips but he's back to not even bothering to open his eyes.

"Let me clean you up and then if you're still awake, we can kiss more, okay?" You reason.

"Hm, fine," He slurs sulkily, though stays almost motionless on the seat with hands still above his head as his face turns towards the back of the couch.

"Are you okay with me lifting your t-shirt?" He hums and nods a little, and you know that's the most you'll get from him, so you gently lift the t-shirt out of the drying mess to hold up and away. You don't even take a second to take in the mess on his skin or his flaccid dick, just quickly and carefully wipe him up as best as you can before tossing out the tissues and returning the bottle of lube to what you hope is the correct desk drawer.

You return to the couch with Yoongi's hoodie and are about to ask him to sit up to change out of the dirty top yet find him snoring softly already. Instead, you shuffle his boxers back up onto his body and settle them snugly against his hips before gently and painstakingly removing the soiled t-shirt.

You just about manage to get the hoody on his uncooperative body as he whines and tries to curl back against the cushions every time you almost accidentally rouse him out of his sleep.

Once you're done with your task, you admire his relaxed, sleeping features for a moment too long, and then settle up to his desk to watch some videos while he sleeps.

During a break in between episodes, you hear shuffling, so you remove the headphones and turn to find Yoongi shuffling to sit up while rubbing at his eyes. "Sleep well?" You ask softly.

He nods, and yawns for good measure, before stretching and then finally looking at you. "How long was I sleeping?"

"Couple hours."

"What?!" He baulks. "Why didn't you wake me?"

"Didn't have the heart to, you were pretty fucking exhausted,"

"Oh, uhm…" He looks down at himself as the actions previous to his nap return to his mind. "So that happened...did you change me?" He tugs on his hoodie confused.

"Hm yeah, didn't think you'd appreciate waking up with a cum covered t-shirt."

"No yeah, right...thanks." He turns to sit properly and places his feet on the floor. "So uhm, are you sure you've never done that before?"

"Positive."

"But that was better than tops I've been with."

"Oh, really?" You beam proudly and he hums in confirmation with a nod. "Ah, well maybe it's because their intention isn't to make you feel good but to just get you ready so that they can stick their dicks in you," you suggest.

"Maybe." He shrugs and gets to his feet with a slight wince. "If this is how I feel with just your fingers, you'd destroy me with a dick," he comments while grabbing his jeans from the floor to wobble into.

You get up to help steady him so that he doesn't fall on his ass. "Would you let me?"

"What?"

"Fuck you, if I bought a strap-on?"

"Oh." He nods shyly.

"Words, baby, come on, you know the rules."

"Shut up." He huffs and bats you away while you snigger. You close down what you had been doing on the computer and return to the couch to flop down in a slouch. "Do you know where to buy one? A strap?" Yoongi glances at you as he buttons his jeans.

"Yep, the place I get my usual stuff from sells some interesting ones."

"I'm honestly concerned about what you mean by interesting."

"Look yourself." You get back up to sit at the desk and open up the adult toy store's website. "Sit." You pat your thighs invitingly. Yoongi only hesitates a moment before sitting on your lap so that you can look at the screen together.

"There is no way you're fucking me with that," he deadpans when you point out an honestly obnoxiously huge dildo with ridges.

"Oh, so I can fuck you then?"

"With a normal one, yes," he agrees, and moves your hand from the mouse to scroll himself. "Here look, normal." He points to a very basic-looking realistic dildo.

"Boo, boring. At least try a tentacle." He glares at you, making you laugh. "Joking. How big do you like?"

"Uhm just average is good."

"Bullshit, you scream size queen to me." Yoongi sputters but doesn't argue. "Find one that looks the best to you."

"This is embarrassing," he whines.

"No, it's not. Be a good boy and pick a cock to be fucked with, Yoongi," you hum against his neck, earning a shiver. Yoongi doesn't hesitate to begin intently looking at all the options. "Hm, good boy." You press an approving kiss against his skin and wrap your arms around his waist to squeeze a little. He jolts in surprise, but then shuffles a little to settle in your hold.

After a little while of careful consideration, Yoongi shyly points out the one he likes the best and wants to try with you.

"Okay, add it to the basket." So, he does. "And now find a smaller one."

"What?" He looks over his shoulder at you with a confused frown. "Why?"

"Because I've never done this before so I don't want to go in with that one first and hurt you. Start small and build up to it."

"Oh, okay, that's smart." He agrees and returns his attention to the computer. He doesn't take as long to find a smaller dildo and add it to the basket. "Need a harness now," he murmurs, clicking through to find the right section. "What kind do you want? There's underwear style ones with a connection on the front or ones that are essentially harnesses."

"I don't know. Maybe get one of each style to try?"

"Okay. What size?"

"I don't know, depends on their size guide. I haven't bought lingerie from this site so I don't know what their sizing is like."

"Lingerie?" Yoongi looks at you with interest. "You have lingerie?"

"Yeah."

"Oh...will you wear some for me?"

"You want me to?" He nods. "Okay. We can look on here too and see if there's anything in particular you'd like to see."

"Why didn't we do this earlier?" Yoongi groans, then leans over to kiss you for a moment. "You're the best."

"I know," you giggle and pat his thighs. "Find the size guide."

A few days later, Yoongi finds himself seated at the head of your bed with his back against the headrest watching you unpack the box in front of him.

The order had arrived that morning. You had excitedly texted Yoongi the moment it did, and he had immediately cleared his evening plans.

As soon as his work day ended, Yoongi rushed home to drop off his stuff and shower thoroughly ready, then quickly made his way to your apartment.

So here he is, both nerves and excitement running through his body knowing that soon, you will be fucking him.

As each item is placed on the bed, Yoongi fidgets more and more. Just seeing the picture of the dildo on the side of the box has his dick plumping up.

He doesn't know it, he’s too busy staring down at all the new items, but you notice his fidgeting and reactions; the pink of his cheeks and the increased frequency of his tongue darting out to wet his lips. Even though you've only had one session of sexual activity together, you're pretty confident that you've correctly read his body language as rapidly growing arousal.

For a few moments longer, you continue to unpack the large box but pay no attention to it and only watch Yoongi's intent, wide gaze on the items. His obvious arousal is making your own heat up under your skin.

Suddenly, you quickly repack almost everything making Yoongi jerk with concern and make a questioning noise.

"We can look at it after I've fucked you," you declare when Yoongi's confused eyes find your own darkening ones.

Yoongi swallows thickly and nods dumbly in agreement.

"Do you want me to put anything on?" You ask, motioning to the lingerie that you have left out. Yoongi looks at it, mouth open and genuinely considers it, whether he wants to see the lingerie or get fucked more. "If it helps, I'm wearing a set I already had under this." You point to your outfit of a zipped-up hoodie and basketball shorts. Yoongi swallows again and nods slowly. "What?"

"I wanna see that."

"Okay." You giggle and toss the lingerie from the mattress into the box before picking the whole thing up and moving it to the floor out of the way. "I want to try the harness one today, it matches what I'm wearing." You grin excitedly while picking up the box containing the wet-look-style strappy harness.

"Matches?" Yoongi mutters. You hum in confirmation. "Fuck."

You peer up at him through your eyelashes and giggle, before pressing one knee onto the mattress and leaning closer to him.

"You're going to ruin me, aren't you?" He realises in a mumble.

"I'm certainly going to try," you reply, a little breathless at the thought. You place your empty hand on his thigh to squeeze a little making his breath hitch and legs jolt, before you lift your hand only to slap his inner thigh gently and dart forward to place a disproportionately sweet peck on his lips. "I want you as naked as you're comfortable with by the time I get back from the bathroom."

"O-Okay," he agrees easily. You grin, then lower for a more thorough kiss; one that lingers even when you're out of the room, taking the harness and smaller dildo with you to clean thoroughly. "Fuck," Yoongi exhales and takes a second to gather his wits before getting up to quickly remove all of his clothing except for his boxers; a brand new set of tiny black shorts that do nothing to hide that his dick is hard and trying to escape from the waistband.

Yoongi feels very vulnerable and exposed as he sits there on the bed in nervous wait. He crosses and uncrosses his arms over his chest self-consciously a few times before reaching out to pick up the rather large bottle of anal lube left on the bed.

It's while he's reading the bottle to give himself something to do after removing the packaging so that it can actually be used, that you return sans shorts and with the unpackaged dildo in your hand.

You pause at the doorway and stare at him causing him to put the bottle down so that he can fold his arms over his bare chest again. "Shit, sorry, sorry, fuck, I didn't mean to make you feel self-conscious," you apologise while rushing over. You carefully place the dildo upright on the side table beside the lube bottle before climbing up onto the bed and gently laying your hands over his arms. "You're just so beautiful, Yoongi, my brain short-circuited seeing you waiting for me on my bed like this. Like holy fucking shit, what kind of saint did I save in a past life to get Min fucking Yoongi waiting on my bed?"

"You don't need to be so dramatic," he huffs, though his cheeks are hot with his blush and he allows you to tug his arms to his sides.

"I'm not." He gives you a disbelieving expression. "I'm not! I swear! I'd never tell you empty words, Yoongi, you mean too much to me for me to ever even consider betraying your trust like that."

Your words are so genuine that Yoongi can't help but believe them and accept the truth, making his body warm further understanding that you genuinely think of him in such a way.

"Good," he decides with a shy little nod. "Did you get the harness on okay?"

You hum and nod, leaning up onto your knees in front of him and lifting your hands to the zipper of your jumper. "Wanna see?"

"Of course, I wanna-" He cuts off with a choke when you abruptly open the zipper revealing a glimpse of a crisscross of straps across the revealed skin of your torso. He doesn't even have it in him to curse under his breath when you remove the jumper to toss aside carelessly.

If all of his blood hadn't rushed south and left no brain power behind, Yoongi would see that you definitely aren't as confident as you have been acting; your hands twitch at your sides and your teeth gently clamp on your bottom lip.

But Yoongi is too hypnotised by your body wrapped in intricate lengths of black, wet-look material that make you look like the present of his wet dreams.

"So?" You ask what feels to you like at least ten minutes later when Yoongi still hasn't done anything but stare jaw dropped at you.

To your relief, your sudden voice snaps Yoongi back to reality and makes him drag his lust-darkened eyes up to yours.

Without a word, he gets up until he's on his knees mirroring you, before taking your face into his hands to kiss heavily. The little noise you can't prevent from escaping your mouth makes Yoongi groan deeply and lower one hand so that he can wrap his arm around your waist and pull you closer while he moves too until you're pressed together.

Feeling the smooth latex under his hand has Yoongi's dick twitching back to life where it's pressed between your bodies. It makes you giggle upon feeling it, before pressing your body forward just enough to make Yoongi groan at the pressure.

"I assume that's a good reaction?" You hum breathlessly when the kiss breaks, and you motion to yourself to show that you mean his reaction to how you look.

"You have no idea how sexy you are to me," Yoongi replies a little dumbly, making you giggle through your blush. "I'm really fucking glad you got this harness and ignored my hesitation on the wet look. I never knew I was into it until now."

"I have a wet-look dress," you inform. "And I'm going to wear it when we next all go out, just to wind you up."

"Please don't make me get hard in public, I'm an idol," he whines. "I can't be caught with a boner."

"Guess you better learn to control your dick then." You grin and nudge him back. "Lay down, I really wanna get my hands on your ass as soon as possible; I've been thinking about this non-stop for four days."

"You have?" Yoongi replies while doing as told and moving backwards until he's laid down in the centre of the bed with his head on the pillows. You hum in confirmation while taking the chance to rake your eyes over his body hungrily.

It makes Yoongi's body warm to see how much you like his body, even though he doesn't think it is anything special at all. "M-me too," He admits, causing you to look up at his face and smile softly at him. He smiles back shyly, before bravely reaching down to hook his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers.

Your eyes at once snap down to watch as he slowly pushes his underwear down until he has to lift his hips up to slide them over his ass and to his thighs, where you take over and carefully remove the cloth entirely from his body to drop to the floor beside the bed.

And then you look at him to take him in in his fully nude state. Your cheeks visibly warm and your mouth drops open just enough for your tongue to poke out and prod your bottom lip. "Can I suck your dick?" You ask bluntly, licking your lips again.

"Really?" You nod and shuffle closer until Yoongi has to spread his legs to allow you to kneel between them with your hands on his smooth thighs. "Y-yeah," he agrees, nodding quickly even if you're entirely enraptured by his erection so don't see his action.

Without hesitation, you lower down onto your left elbow and wrap one hand loosely around his erection just to hold it up and allow you to slide it into your mouth enthusiastically. Yoongi's hips instinctively kick up at the sudden, wet warmth and he curses, reaching out to slide his fingers into your hair. You make a happy sound around his length and wiggle your hips as you work him in your mouth, which draws Yoongi's attention to your ass where it's stuck up in the air and showing off your curves in the straps.

"Jesus, fuck," he grunts. "Fucking-fuck-look at you," he breathes out, eyes dragging over your body and down to where your lips are wrapped around his dick, eyes up on him. He swears again. "You need to stop or I'm going to cum," he warns.

You heed his warning and pull off with a soft laugh. "I was there for like ten seconds," you point out amusedly.

He shrugs and looks away embarrassed, only to look back with a gasp when you attach your mouth to his inner thigh to suck a bruise into. "Shit," he chokes, legs shaking a little.

Suddenly overcome with desperation, he reaches out to grab the lube and shove it against your shoulder.

"Hm, okay, baby," you agree while sitting up on your knees again so that you can take the bottle and pump some of the contents onto your fingers. "Do you want it like this or a different position?" You ask, putting the bottle aside on the mattress for when you need it again.

"This," he answers, grabbing a spare pillow to wiggle under his hips. "Wanna see you."

"Okay." Your smile is happy and you lean down over him to press your lips to his.

Yoongi lifts both hands to gently hold your face as you kiss slowly and deeply.

His breath hitches as your wet fingers touch his rim, though he doesn't stop kissing you. A little whimper leaves his throat as one finger slowly edges in. You make a curious sound at the much less resistance compared to the last time you had your fingers inside of Yoongi yet say nothing and add a second.

"Did you already finger yourself?" You ask, unable to stop yourself when you can already add a third.

"Y-yeah," he confirms. "Is that okay? Are you upset?"

"I mean, usually I would definitely like to prep you myself; your ass is the eighth wonder of the world-" He rolls his eyes, making you laugh. "But I honestly think it's best to not get me that turned on today so that I can have at least some self-control when fucking you for the first time."

"Fingering me turns you on?" You nod. "Oh, I didn't realise, you seemed normal last time."

"I wanted to focus on you too much to pay attention to it. But after, jeez, I had to watch a very dry show to calm myself back down," you snigger with amusement at the memory.

"M'sorry."

You frown confusedly down at him and remove your fingers from his ass. He's about to complain but notices you're reaching for the dildo so instead presses his lips together.

"For what?" You wonder.

"What?"

"You apologised. Why?"

"I fell asleep."

"Yeah?" Your head tilts down as you look at the harness so that you can attach the dildo properly.

"I didn't get you off." You laugh a little. "What?" He frowns. "Why's that funny?"

"All I wanted was to finger you, I didn't want you to do anything but cum yourself and you definitely did that so I was more than happy with your involvement, Yoon, there was nothing else I wanted from that experience."

"So, you didn't want to cum?" He looks at you disbelievingly until you lift your head having successfully attached the toy after a little fiddling.

"It wasn't the plan, no."

"But did you want to?"

"I mean, I haven't been that turned on in a long time, well until now. But if I wanted to cum, I could've gone and taken care of it while you were asleep. Just because I made you cum, it doesn't mean you owe me one, that's not how this works, Yoon."

"I know," he mumbles, running his hands down your body to finger the harness until he locates the dildo and can wrap his hand around it and tug, forcing you to get closer between his spread-wide thighs. "But I want to. Wanna make you feel good."

"You do, trust me, you do," you assure, before pressing a sweet, short kiss to his lips. "Can I fuck you now?"

"Definitely." He nods, eyes wide with anticipation.

With excitement in your eyes, you reach down to knock Yoongi's hand from the dildo so that you can apply more than enough lube. Yoongi is staring at you questioningly when you look back up at him.

"What? I like it messy," you giggle shyly, and look back down so that you can watch as you guide the toy to Yoongi's awaiting hole.

"You do?" You nod. "Me too." You grin brightly up at him, happy at the shared interest, before slowly pushing your hips forward. Yoongi's eyes widen a little and his lips part as he's breached by the toy.

"Okay?" You worry.

"Yeah, keep going," he confirms, looping his fingers into the straps over your hips to pull you towards him at a speed quicker than you would've moved yourself, but if anyone knows Yoongi's limits, it's Yoongi himself, so you let him.

In no time at all, your hips are pressed flush to him and he's breathing a little heavier at being full.

"Fuck me, come on, fuck me," he breathes out encouragingly, removing his fingers from the straps to give you control back and instead press his palms to your waist.

"Okay, baby," you hum and press a kiss to his chest, before leaning up onto your haunches and use your hands to press Yoongi's thighs open further.

Yoongi swallows thickly and knows he will never come back from this the same and you haven't even moved yet. And then you do, slowly dragging back before shoving forward and knocking a moan from Yoongi that he wasn't aware he could produce. You smirk at him before tightening your hold and repeating the action.

"F-fuck," he stammers, gripping the bedding beneath him in an attempt to ground himself. You've only thrust twice and he's already leaking on his stomach.

"Okay?" He nods madly. "Hm, let's get that better." The look on your face is a little dark and very determined, and Yoongi keens before you've even pulled back out.

This time, you adjust your position a little to get yourself better leverage to essentially pull back, and then pound into Yoongi while simultaneously rolling your hips and causing Yoongi's back to arch and his eyes to roll back. He's not going to last at all.

It's not even a minute of the unbelievably good fucking later that Yoongi wraps a shaking hand around his cock to tug at it desperately for only a few seconds before his body pulls tight and he comes all over his torso.

You watch the whole ordeal with hooded eyes and an open mouth as you pant from exertion and arousal. Not knowing if Yoongi gets overstimulated quickly and not wanting to hurt him, you quickly slow your movements and stop when his hand falls from his cock.

While Yoongi lays there breathing heavily with his chest heaving and eyes closed, you pull out and remove the dripping toy from the harness.

Without a word, you get up and move to the bathroom to rinse off the toy and leave it on the counter to wash properly later, and then you grab a washcloth to dampen it and return to Yoongi. He blinks his eyes open when you clamber back onto the bed and start to clean him up.

By the time you've finished cleaning his chest and ass up, Yoongi's breathing is back to normal and he's watching you, looking more satisfied than you've ever seen him.

"Hey." You smile as you settle beside him, washcloth on the side table behind you. He purses his lips at you, so you lean forward to kiss him slowly. When you pull back, you remain on your side propped up with your head on your left hand. "How you feeling? I didn't go too hard, did I?"

"I'm pretty sure how quick I came answers that," he huffs, pouting at the ceiling. "Swear I'm not usually that quick."

"It was hot, I don't mind the time frame," you reply honestly, and lean down to kiss his shoulder. "I knew you'd look good coming on yourself," you hum against his skin. "Wish I had photographic memory so I never forget a moment of that sight."

"Shut up."

"I'm being serious!" You lift up and pout at him. "I'm sad that I won't forever remember it that well."

"Well...it's not like that's the only chance you'll get to see it." He shrugs, turning onto his right side to face you, so you lower to lay down too. "I can't get over how good you are at these sexual things you've never done before."

"I'm naturally gifted."

Yoongi chuckles and nods. "Yeah, you are. I'm both scared and excited to see how much better you'll get with practice. You're going to own my ass in no time, I won't be able to fuck anyone else because they won't be as good as you. Fucking Pavlov me."

"Don't think that's the right term but I'll take it." He doesn't respond and instead shuffles closer to kiss you.

Yoongi's left hand travels down to hold onto one of the strips of material over your ribs. "How hard is this to get off?"

"A lot." He groans. "Why?"

"Wanna eat you out." Your eyes blow wide in shock. "I can't tell what that look means."

"No one's said that to me before," you admit softly.

"What?" Yoongi's frown is beyond offended. "How could no one say that to you?" He huffs and leans up while nudging you onto your back. You go willingly with a shrug. "Well, I really want to. Can I?" You nod and reach down to unclasp the buckles of the harness. Yoongi shuffles down the bed so that he can pull it off your legs once you've opened it. "How do we-" he cuts off when he looks up and realises that the straps of the lingerie have been designed to leave your crotch entirely bare. "Fuck."

Immediately, Yoongi lowers down onto his stomach between your thighs and presses them wider to stare at where you're glistening with arousal.

"How is all of you so fucking perfect?" Even though it's a question, he's really talking to himself, his voice low and thick with arousal.

Yet even if he is talking to you and expects a response, you wouldn't be able to form one, your voice is stuck in your throat with nerves.

"Tell me if I do something you don't like, okay?" He speaks, leaning up enough to make eye contact with you. You just nod, cheeks flushed pink and your bottom lip sucked nervously between your teeth. Yoongi shoots you a gentle smile, then lowers to press a soft kiss to your hip.

You watch intently as Yoongi trails soft kisses across your skin and over the shiny fabric digging slightly into your thigh due to your legs being spread by Yoongi's hands. He stops at your inner thigh in between two straps, seemingly entranced by the little bulge caused by the material.

As if he doesn't have any control, Yoongi opens his mouth a little wider and clamps down making you gasp. The noise brings him back to reality and he almost pulls off but as he's releasing his jaw, your gasp fully registers and he realises that it wasn't a bad gasp at all.

Instead of continuing to open his jaw, he closes it further and fights down his own groan feeling his teeth press into the giving flesh before he sucks a little harsher than he normally starts off, yet you whimper and your left hand flutters atop his head in a way that feels as if you want to grasp but aren't brave enough. So, Yoongi sucks harder, borderline painfully, and is rewarded with fingers in his hair and grasping securely, encouragingly.

Yoongi suckles the spot for a moment longer before pulling off with a pop.

You both eye the bright red mark and admire the indents left by his teeth before Yoongi suddenly darts down again.

You had expected him to attach to the mirrored spot on your other thigh but he shocks you by suctioning to the soft, smooth flesh over your pubic bone, so close to your clit that it makes it tingle.

You're so caught off guard that the moan of pleasure escapes your mouth before you can stop it. You loosen your right hand from the sheets with every intention of lifting it to cover your mouth in embarrassment; it was too loud of a noise for such a small act in your mind.

It seems that Yoongi knows you too well though, despite never having done anything like this together before, as his left hand quickly darts up and grabs your wrist causing you to fall still.

You blink down at him and find his dark eyes on you warningly. Your arm twitches upwards and his grip tightens even as his mouth neither moves to detach or do anything more.

Yoongi's eyes square a little; a silent command, and although you don't really listen to anyone usually regardless of circumstance, you nod obediently and relax your arm. Yoongi's gaze relaxes and he directs your hand to your own thigh just so that he can link your fingers together while also allowing him to still keep pressure on your thighs to have them remain open for him.

Really, Yoongi would've loved to take advantage of the fact that you're the first person to seem to like the rougher biting his gums always ache for, but he was determined to give you the best head you'll ever have before his oral fixation kicked in, and now he's reminded of that upon seeing the way you actually submitted to him, even a little.

He decides that you definitely deserve a reward for that alone.

Only a little reluctantly, Yoongi slowly releases his suction and pulls back just enough to allow the sight of the forming bruise to shoot a lick of arousal into his stomach, before he lowers even further to softly trail his tongue up your folds, carefully avoiding your hole and clit not wanting to jump in too fast for you on your first time receiving oral.

A fact that honestly makes him kind of angry; how could no one have offered to go down on you? It's vile and selfish in his mind, and he wants to give you the best experience he possibly can.

You don't make any noise in response, so he doesn't know if you like it, but at the very least, you don't try to remove either of you from the situation, so you're willing to let him continue.

For a few minutes, Yoongi keeps his actions relatively soft everywhere he touches, yet he still doesn't gain much of a response from you. You're breathing a little heavier and he can see that your eyes are closed; you do look like you're enjoying yourself but you're quiet.

If he hadn't heard a moan moments before, he would assume that you're just quiet in general during sex, but he had and he wants more. You sounded so good that he honestly wants to record you to replay back when he's alone with a hand in his pants. Maybe you're just not that into oral.

Not wanting to be a letdown, Yoongi carefully tugs his hand free from your grasp and presses your own palm to your thigh. When he sees your fingers curve a little to hold your thigh, he smiles to himself and presses a finger to your hole lightly; a warning of what's to come. You don't pull away, so he slowly presses in, watching entranced as you swallow him up with no issue.

Feeling you ready to take another, he pulls out and adds another finger alongside the first and watches all the same as soft, wet heat envelops them both happily. Although there isn't much resistance per se due to how wet you are, there's definitely more pressure on his fingers, especially around his second knuckle. He looks up to watch your reaction as he pushes in, in case any sign of discomfort appears.

Your eyebrows furrow the tiniest amount, and your mouth drops open a little wider as a stuttered breath leaves. Your hips push down slightly, shyly almost, and all worry leaves Yoongi. You like it and want more.

So, he gives it to you, pushing his fingers in completely, only slightly faster than his original pace but you immediately react and suck in a breath.

Suddenly, it hits Yoongi that you had reacted so strongly enough to moan when he was being harsh and rough. You like the borderline pain and firmer actions, not the soft gentle touches he has been trying thinking it will be the best move for your first time.

With this revelation, Yoongi attaches his mouth directly to your clit and sucks while pulling his fingers out just to the second knuckle where they're widest and using that girth to stimulate your opening. Immediately, you gasp and moan breathily, tightening your fingers in his hair enough to make him moan around your clit.

The pace Yoongi takes up fucking his fingers into you is fast and just a level below hard considering he isn't left-handed and the angle isn't the easiest to navigate while he's toying endlessly with your clit with his mouth; teeth included making his own body sing with arousal.

He's definitely hard and leaking between the mattress and his stomach.

Yoongi can't believe how worked up he's getting so quickly. Sure, he always loves giving oral, especially if it means he also had his fingers in a wet, warm hole, but he never gets hard from it after already being fucked so well. But you react so well to his rough actions, and you seem to love the intensity of his oral fixation allowing him to really suction and bite as much as he wants.

Honestly, if he couldn't feel you tightening around his fingers and your hips shaking with the effort of keeping still, Yoongi would be certain that he's much more into the activity than you are. But your approaching orgasm is clear, especially with your frequent little moans growing closer together and higher in pitch. Though he does kind of wish you wouldn't control yourself like that, he kind of really most definitely wants you to fuck his face.

Maybe he'll have to ask you to sit on his face one day, and preferably very soon.

"Yoon," you warn with a gasp, eyes flying open to stare down at him, but his eyes are closed and focused, though he does squeeze your thigh a little to show that he heard and understands. You let your eyes close again and your head tips back as the pleasure teeters right on the edge.

One more run of Yoongi's teeth over your swollen clit sends you tumbling over, cursing as the orgasm shoots through your body quickly.

Usually, it'd be over as quick as that, but Yoongi hasn't stopped his movements; if anything, he seems more eager to lap around his fingers and fuck into you. He even curls his fingers up into that spot he's found but not yet focused on, to now zero in on it and apply an almost torturous amount of pleasure that's borderline painful with the orgasm barely even over.

"Oh, fuck," you whine, curling your fingers tight enough into your thigh that your short, blunt nails dig in sharply.

A second orgasm hits out of nowhere, and you gasp deeply, curving your back at the intensity and lose all control of your hips. Yoongi moans deeply as he's forced face-first into your pussy where he happily attaches his mouth to suck yet another bruise harshly.

As soon as you've mostly come down from the second orgasm to the point that you're mentally back on Earth, you tighten your grip in Yoongi's hair to tug him up while he makes a noise of complaint at being pulled away from eating you out, so that you can kiss him heavily, careless of your taste on his tongue and lower face that's glistening with your own arousal.

That at least stops his complaints and he quickly settles into the kiss, lowering down his top half, yet keeping his hips up so that his naked erection doesn't touch you. You realise what he's doing and hook your legs over his hips to tug him down, making him groan deeply as his erection slips against your slick skin.

"Can't believe you got me hard already," he grunts, lowering his head to kiss down your neck. You turn your head to give him better access. and when he starts to suck, you grind your hips up against him. "Fuck," he pants.

"Want you to fuck me," you admit a little breathlessly.

"Seriously?" You nod and whine a little while grinding harder and feeling his hard length rub firmly over your clit. "Shit, okay, condom?" You shake your head making him sigh. "Then-"

"I'm clean and got my tubes tied," you inform, turning your head to him when he pulls back to look down at you.

"Me too; clean and vasectomy," he mumbles in disbelief. Your eyes light up with excitement that reflects in his. "So, we're both free of transmittable diseases and infertile," he summarises.

"Which means you can fill me up and make a mess."

"Fuck."

With no reason to hesitate, or the will to, Yoongi reaches down to grip his erection and line up with your entrance. Your legs drop to the mattress to spread wide and Yoongi pushes in.

"Ah, fuck," you whimper as he pushes in, your eyes fluttering closed and hands gripping his sides.

"You okay?" You nod rapidly. "Doesn't hurt?"

"Feels good."

"Y-yeah," he agrees, lowering his gaze to watch as his cock fills your pussy and leaves his vision, buried snugly in your warmth. "Fuck, feel so good, baby." Your eyes blink open at the petname to look at him in surprise. "What?"

"Baby?"

He's genuinely puzzled for a second, before he recalls that he just called you that without thought and his cheeks warm with embarrassment. "Sorry, didn't realise."

"I'm not opposed, like at all, fucking love petnames," you admit easily, and lift your arms to wrap around his neck loosely while a mischievous glint appears in your eyes.

Before Yoongi can question what exactly that means, you rock your hips, making him suck in a sudden inhale and shudder at the unexpected friction on his cock.

You burst into laughter at his reaction and flop down onto the mattress. "Did you get possessed?"

"Shut up," he huffs while his cheeks burn with embarrassment. "You surprise attacked me."

"Surprise attacked," you cackle, your hands cupping your own cheeks and fingers pressing into where your cheeks bunch the highest.

Yoongi pouts at you, which only makes you giggle; a different kind of laugh, one more adoring for his cute expression, but it still isn't what he wants and he's feeling petty.

Without warning he pulls back his hips, then slams forward, punching a strangled gasp of pleasure from your mouth as your hands fly up to brace against the wooden poles of the ornate headboard. Yoongi smirks at your wide-eyed and open-mouthed expression, then reaches up to brace himself with one hand against the flat of the headboard while his other slides under your lower back until he can wrap his arm around you enough to hold your body still. And then, he wastes no more time and starts almost brutally fucking you.

It's intense and pleasurable in a way you're not used to; of course, you have been fucked hard before, but it was never like this. Not because people haven't tried but they simply can't pull the pleasure from your very soul like Yoongi seems to be doing.

Even if you want to, you wouldn't be able to stop the stream of pleasured sounds from leaving your open mouth, but you don't even want to; don't feel like hiding as you aren't the only one who seems unable to clamp their own vocals. Yoongi is just as loud as you are and it honestly only turns you on even more.

Usually, both you and Yoongi like to talk to your partners; check in and praise them, talk dirty and tease, yet neither of you has it in you to do it. You couldn't even talk if you try, not past the occasional swear or utter of the other's name or a petname.

Yoongi quickly takes up calling you princess and you have to admit, you really fucking like how it sounds from his lips. Others have tried to use the petname with you before but you could never take it seriously and tended to laugh or to fuck off, depending on the situation. Yet with Yoongi, it sends warmth to your chest that trickles into your stomach and lower to add to the quickly-growing impending orgasm.

Yoongi has no idea how he's keeping up the pace; his chest is heaving and his thighs are burning, and he's certain he's so close to getting a cramp in his left ass cheek somehow, but he can't give any mind to it; it's all on you and how fucking good you feel wrapped around his cock.

You keep sporadically squeezing him and he doesn't know if it's a sign of a nearing orgasm or just how you feel pleasure but either way, it feels beyond fucking words and he both never wants it to end and is chasing his orgasm desperately. He wants to fill you up and then watch his cum spill out from your pussy afterwards.

Fuck, maybe you'll even let him fuck it out of you, perhaps in the shower once he has his strength back after a much-needed nap.

When you remove one hand from the headboard and shove it down between your bodies to play with your clit roughly, Yoongi makes certain to keep his movement the same to not ruin your pleasure.

Watching you touch yourself all but shoves him headfirst over the edge and his hips jerk unintentionally as his orgasm hits, spilling cum into you with a few breathless moans of your name. Your breath hitches in response, before you're squeezing him tight, earning more pleasured curses to fall from his mouth as he feels your orgasm in the rhythmic tightening of your walls pulsating around his cock.

Slowly, you both fall still with closed eyes and heavy breathing as you ride out the aftershocks and last dregs of pleasure.

"Jesus fuck," Yoongi's the first to speak some minutes later when he finally has his head screwed on relatively straight and is only panting a little. You laugh at his comment, but it's definitely an agreeing sound.

Jesus fuck indeed.

"I'm not sure who is gonna Pavlov who here," you muse, reaching out to cup his face in both hands. "C'mere."

Yoongi goes willingly, lowering down and wincing a little as he feels his soft dick slipping out, but neither of you comment on it, you’re both too interested in kissing; happy and sated, and kind of lazy, but it's good.

When the kiss breaks, Yoongi clambers off of you and drops down at your side, sinking on his right side comfortably against the pillow and letting his body relax. "I need a nap," he mutters, earning an amused giggle while you turn onto your left side to face him. "Actually no, fuck a nap, need a coma."

"You're ridiculous."

"If you tell me you still have the energy to fuck, you're insane."

"I mean...give me like ten minutes to get a drink and yeah, I probably could."

"Fucking hell, you're going to kill me," he groans, turning his head into the pillow, but the noise isn't exactly one of argument.

"Good way to go though, right?" You grin, and he looks back at you with a chuckle.

"Definitely." He reaches out with a heavy arm to tug on the straps over your stomach. "C'mere, wanna spoon my princess."

"Are you trying to get fucked?" You comment, making him snort out a tired laugh. Instead of going to him, you roll out of bed making him whine and pout in complaint. "I'll be right back, I really do need a drink."

"Hurry," he mumbles, letting his eyes flutter close.

You hobble to the kitchen as quickly as you can so that you can gulp down as much cool water as possible without making yourself sick and then you refill your glass.

You're about to fill a glass for Yoongi too but considering how tired he is, you know he won't sit up even to drink if his mouth is dry. So, you find a bottle with a straw that you hope won't spill if on its side and fill that with cold water instead.

You return to your bedroom and place your glass down before tucking the bottle by Yoongi and guiding the straw into his open mouth. He's pretty much asleep but the touch wakes him, and although he doesn't know what's going on in his sleep-addled mind, when you tell him to drink and tap the straw on his lip, he wraps his lips around it to do as told and gropes around until he finds the bottle to hold steady without opening his eyes.

You take the chance to struggle your way out of the lingerie on your body and toss it aside to deal with later.

By the time you clamber back onto the bed, Yoongi's fallen asleep again, bottle still held and straw to his lips. You giggle amusedly and remove the item, making him snuffle awake again. Once the bottle is beside your glass, you shuffle down with your back to him and pull his arm over your waist.

Yoongi hums happily and shuffles closer until you're pressed together and his face is in your neck. He inhales deeply and tightens his arm around your waist, tucking his hand up by your chest, and that's when he suddenly realises that he can feel nothing but skin against his own. He jolts up a little onto his right elbow and peers blearily down at you. You watch his expression from over your shoulder; you see the fatigue slip away and his tongue wet his lips as he notices that for the first time, you're completely naked.

"You're naked," he mumbles, tracing his left hand over your waist and hip, watching the trail his touch takes. You just hum in confirmation and allow him to touch all the new skin he can see. "Beautiful," he sighs out, and then lowers back down to curl around your back.

You can feel his dick against your ass and it has definitely plumped up a little in the past moments, and, of course, you just have to tilt your hips back to brush your ass against it.

He nips your shoulder in retaliation, earning a giggle from you. "I'm too fucking tired right now, baby."

"I like cock warming." You pout, grinding back against him. "Don't you wanna be all snug as you sleep?"

"You're fucking ridiculous," he huffs, amusement in his tone, before pressing his hips forward against you. "Go on then, you get me hard, you can warm me as much as you want while we sleep."

"What if I can't sleep?" He makes a curious sound. "I usually can sleep no problem with a cock in me but something about you brings out the deviant in me so...what's your stance on somnophilia?"

"The fuck's that?"

"Sleep sex."

"You want to have sex while we sleep?"

"I'd be awake if I can't sleep, dumbass."

"Shut up, m'tired." He bites your shoulder a little harder this time, but that just makes you curve into him and press your ass harder against his gradually hardening dick. "Fuckin-" He inhales and purposely moves his mouth away from your skin so that he won't give in to temptation again; he's pretty sure if he does bite you again, you'll definitely wind up going for another intense round and he's certain he cannot physically handle that until he wakes up again. He's never been so exhausted from sex alone.

"So?" You prompt when he stays quiet behind you. "I'm personally into it either way."

"Mm, I dunno, just go to sleep for now, baby."

"Okay, Yoonie," you agree and pull your hips away from him, giving his dick space to breathe and soften without your touch. Yoongi hums appreciatively and curls his arm back around your waist, though makes sure to keep his hand away from your chest; he knows that if he feels your breasts he will not be able to get to sleep until he has sufficiently played with them.

When you're almost asleep, Yoongi speaks up in a low rough tone, close to sleep himself. "If you wake up and I'm hard, do what you want."

"Yeah?"

"Mm, just try not to wake me."

"Okay.” You smile to yourself and snuggle in close, smiling a little more at the kiss that gets pressed to your head.

To your absolute joy, when you wake a little under an hour later, you and Yoongi are pressed so close together that his dick has hardened in his sleep.

You grin to yourself, and although you're barely awake, you know what you want. So, you painstakingly move into a better position so that when you reach behind yourself and carefully hold Yoongi's erection, you can guide it into yourself, making you sigh in happiness. You really do like being full.

You peer over your shoulder to make sure you haven't woken Yoongi, then shuffle again, sliding further onto his length until you're pressed tight up against him. You watch Yoongi's face contort and little huffs of breath escape his lips from the pleasure, but he doesn't wake, so you settle back down and are soon back asleep.

You aren't surprised to have a sex dream, though you are surprised by just how vivid it is. You've had similar kinds of dreams before where you're actively seeking pleasure in a lucid-dreaming kind of way, but you usually wake up before achieving your orgasm goal. But this time, you wake up with the force of the dream orgasm that turns out to be real.

"Fuck," Yoongi curses roughly behind you, one hand on your hip as he rocks into you.

"Yoonie?" You mumble sleepily while looking over at him, cheeks warm with the pleasure but eyes barely open.

"Hi princess," he greets with a smile tilting towards a smirk. You whine and push back against him. "You want more?" He asks, his own cheeks slightly pinkened from fucking you as you slept without moving your position to not wake you.

You nod and reach down to move his left hand from your hip and place it on your sternum instead.

"Alright, whatever my princess wants," he agrees, leaning forward to press a kiss to your jaw while moving his hand to cup your left breast. "Didn't know your tits are so big," he comments lowly as he returns to rocking into you slow and deep. "Hide 'em so well."

"H-have to, get looks oth-" Yoongi hits a real good spot with that thrust, making you cut off with a whine as your eyes roll back. "Yoon," you plead.

"Alright, fuck." He shuffles closer and lays his palm flat on the top of your chest to hold you back against him before rabbiting into you while barely pulling out, meaning he keeps hitting that same spot rapidly making you whine and writhe and gasp out his name. "Good girl."

The tingle in his teeth returns as he stares at the mostly faded teeth marks on your shoulder from before sleep. He knows those marks will be soon gone with no evidence, no bruise left behind and that doesn't sit well with him.

Yoongi leans down to attach his mouth harshly over the same spot. You jerk in response, and automatically his hand lifts to restrain you and wrap around your throat. You instantly fall still as your walls squeeze him tight.

Yoongi gasps against your shoulder and removes his hand, but you whine in serious complaint, locking your grasp on his arm. "Are you sure?" He asks as you lead his hand back to your throat. You nod madly. "Words, please, baby, I need verbal confirmation to do this. It's dangerous and-"

"Yes, yes, I want it, choke me, Yoongi, please," you plead, turning your head just enough that your wet gaze meets his and he can see the truth and desperation in your eyes. "Please?"

"Fuck, okay, kick me if it's too much or you need a break or change your mind or-"

"I won't." You sound so certain that Yoongi can only nod and curl his fingers to show that he's more than willing. There's practically no pressure to his touch yet you still gasp and slump against the pillow as your eyes flutter shut.

Yoongi licks his lips and takes a second to compose himself, before he applies a little pressure. Your mouth opens in a silent gasp but otherwise, you're practically boneless on the mattress, entirely trusting your vulnerability to him; submitting to him in a way nobody ever has before.

Yoongi growls a little and doesn't even have it in him to question himself there, before he returns to fucking you; rougher than before with longer strokes, yet still successfully pulling moans from your parted lips.

He waits a little before squeezing harder, hard enough to make breathing hard for you, but you fucking love it, clamping down tight on his cock and making no attempt to free yourself.

Yoongi's cock throbs and as much as he wants to keep going he knows he can't and removes the pressure to allow you to suck in some ragged breaths.

He takes the chance to readjust his position so that he can once again mouth at your skin and work on another mark, slowing his hips enough that he doesn't jostle your body as much. But that makes you whine in complaint.

If you can whine, you have enough breath is Yoongi's thought, and then he's constricting your airflow again and angling his hips to try and find that spot inside you again. When he finds it, you choke so he releases his pressure and focuses on once again battering that spot with short quick thrusts that make you moan endlessly through heaving for breath.

With his hand resting on your throat, your walls dripping and tight as hell around his cock, and his mouth suctioned to the crook of your neck, Yoongi is so fucking close to an orgasm. You're so fucking tight around him, tight like pre-orgasm tight, but he has no idea if you can orgasm without clitoral stimulation. He's vaguely concerned that he will cum while you suffer without your clit being touched, but he himself physically can't and you're too far gone to seem to register that it's something you can actually do.

Too close and desperate to stop, Yoongi decides he can make you cum once he has himself and once again tightens his hold on your throat. To his surprise, your back immediately curves and your pussy spasms around him as wetness suddenly increases, and he's hit with the possible fact that you just squirted with your orgasm.

Yoongi's orgasm hits him like a truck. He doesn't mean to bite down harder and doesn't even register the metallic taste on his tongue until the post-orgasm fuzz leaves his brain. He gasps in shocked horror and leans back, glad that he had moved his hand from your throat and not also choked you out in a non-sexy way in his mindlessness.

The bite mark is pretty vicious looking; bruised deeply from his sucking and ringed by tooth-shaped indents, all of which are bleeding a little. Luckily, none are particularly deep but still, he's horrified; partly by what he's done, and partly at the fact the sight sends arousal flitting teasingly through his body.

"Yoonie?" Your soft voice snaps him back to reality to find you blinking concernedly at him over your shoulder. "It's okay," you assure, reaching your left hand back to lay on his thigh and rub soothingly. "Really, don't look so scared, I'm not mad."

"I fucking bit you!" He squeaks. "You're bleeding!"

"Yes, I see," you muse, gaze dropping to his lips pointedly. He quickly rubs his hand over his mouth roughly to remove the blood. "I'm not new to bleeding during sex."

He opens his mouth to respond, once again planning to berate himself, but then he registers your words and blinks dumbly at you. "What?"

"I have experimented a lot, Yoon and not always with the best people to try potentially dangerous things with."

He sighs your name out worriedly. "Please don't tell me you've let someone hold a knife to your skin during sex. I know you joked about it before but I seriously thought it was just a joke."

"I haven't," you assure before grinning a little awkwardly. "Yet."

"I'm not letting you do knife play with some asshole, don't be ridiculous."

"You're not an asshole."

He blinks at you a few times. "Me?" You hum in confirmation. "You want me to put a knife to your skin?"

"I want to try it and you're the only person I trust like that." You shrug and turn your head back away, both because the angle is hurting your neck, and because you suddenly feel honestly kind of like a freak for even suggesting it. Knife play is no joke and something most people don't even know exists, and even fewer actually think is a good idea. "I'll forget about it, you seem scared enough just biting me hard enough to draw blood, it was stupid to suggest."

"Wait, wait, wait," he huffs, and shuffles backwards to create the space to turn you onto your back so that you can look at one another. "I don't want you to feel bad, that's not a look I see on you, stop it."

"It was stupid to suggest though." You frown. "I'm sorry-"

"No, stop, it-" He takes a breath, and then drops down onto his back beside you as he only then realises how much his right shoulder hurts. He reaches up to rub it, only for you to roll over and bat his hand away so that you can massage it yourself.

Yoongi watches your concentration for a few minutes with a fond smile, before he reaches out to tilt your face to him and leans up to gently kiss you. You hum, surprised but very pleased and kiss him back, leaning forward so that he can lower back onto the pillow and not hurt his neck.

When you pull apart, he keeps his hand on your cheek and strokes his thumb over your skin softly. "I was scared that I hurt you; I didn't mean to and it scared me how easily I could accidentally do serious damage if I'm not careful." You make a noise of understanding. "But I was also scared that I liked it." Your eyebrows lift in genuine surprise. "I saw what I had done and I fucking- I liked it, like it turned me on a little."

"Really?" He nods. Despite the conversation, the way your eyes light up with joy and excitement makes him chuckle fondly. "So would you consider knife play?"

"I... I think I can consider it, yeah," he confirms, earning a bright smile, followed by a very thorough kiss.

You can't say for sure what your future relationship with Yoongi holds, but you're real fucking excited to find out.

[ask-mtt-blog]

Since I didn’t end up posting today again cuz of the festival stuff going on longer than I thought, I’m going to post a longer formatted list of facts about my AU (just headcanons and shit for the characters!) I hope it appeases you all for today and I’ll get right back onto answering asks tomorrow if all goes well <3

HORROR

Horror is a simple person, with simple goals and a complex mind. He is quiet, but not shy, instead more cunning and intelligent than the other two are. He tends to stay out of Nightmare’s way more than anything, not going near him at all if he can help it, and it is this fact that has allowed him to become Nightmare’s favorite subordinate.

Horror likes reading and cooking, although he unfortunately is not at all good at the latter and is often banned from making meals. He likes doing repetitive things with his hands like knitting or sewing, because in his au there isn’t much to do except wait around and standing idly reminds him of the days he spent starving there.

He’s very careful with food, always eating a certain amount at a certain time. Nightmare doesn’t deny him food as a general rule, not because he cares but because Horror’s “loyalty” depends on it. He has a tendency to stash food away.

Horror does not hate Killer or Dust, but feels conflicted about them and suspicious of their motivations. He dislikes what they had to do in their AUs to survive, but he really doesn’t blame them for it. He’s an anxious guy by nature and is well used to betrayal so there is little trust in his heart for them

KILLER

My version of Killer is not without emotion, but rather empathy and most capabilities to experience positive emotion. One of his better qualities is his sense of humor, something that never left him even when he stopped being Classic Sans.

Killer likes cats, but does not have any. I believe at one point I got an ask about that, and I’m responding here that the cats existed and now do not. He doesn’t do anything with his free time, content to exist in quiet.

Killer’s soul is quite unstable and prone to flare ups of LV, which is why he doesn’t do nearly as much actual killing as Dust does. Killer is the fighter, Dust is the executor, and Horror steps in if they fuck up.

He has no feelings towards either Dust or Horror, but he has a strange desire in his SOUL to get closer with them.

DUST

Dust, not called Murder here, isn’t as serious as he’s usually portrayed by the fandom. He still loves practical jokes and puns, but doesn’t make them as often since he’s usually either on high alert or on the verge of passing out.

Dust likes small spaces, likes the fact that he can’t be attacked except for from one direction. He likes gardening and watching the others do things.

Dust is not prone to LV flare ups, despite his LV being quite high. The nature of his SOUL is not like Killer’s, and although being a murderer has changed him fundamentally, his physical well-being is unaffected.

Dust likes Horror and is unsure about Killer. Horror is kind of creepy but is canonically and obviously the most friendly of all of them as well as the most reasonable, and Killer is just. Unnerving.

ERROR

Error, referred to by all other than those close enough to know him by his actual name as the Destroyer, is a selfish and malignant being with goals unknown to anyone else. He destroys universes to feed his own code, to keep himself from corrupting beyond a point of saving. He’s seen by most of the multiverse as a mindless animal, set on destruction purely because it’s the only thing he knows. He is also primarily referred to within the multiverse as an “it” instead of a “he.”

Error, like the canon version, likes knitting and crocheting. He likes watching magical girl shows (his current favorite being Madoka Magica) and sleeping. The Destroyer doesn’t really care for destruction as a concept, just views it as an inevitable consequence of his existence.

Quick fun fact about Error! He’s almost completely blind, using his strings to “see.” Talking is possible but very difficult, as it takes a long time for him to finish a sentence and even longer for the other person to understand what he is saying.

Error doesn’t know the others well enough to judge, but he finds Nightmare interesting enough.

NIGHTMARE

Nightmare in my AU is not the Nightmare Dream knew, but They are not the canon version either. They are a sort of mix, who is selfish and doesn’t bother with anything if it doesn’t further Their goals. They are not actively trying to kill Dream as They are in the original.

Nightmare enjoys reading, eating sweets, and watching old shows like “I Love Lucy” for entertainment. They like the feeling of positivity, even if extended exposure to it could kill Them.

Nightmare is one of the only ones in the multiverse who doesn’t see Error as an animal! Love that for Them. They also see Themselves as a collective, so They use “We” “Us” and “Ourselves” to refer to Themselves. Their pronouns are also always capitalized!

Lastly, They find Killer annoying, Dust annoying, Horror less annoying, and Error intriguing.

Do with these facts what you will!

[soundlesswind]

Mononoke: Karakasa Review

Mononoke - Phantom in the Rain

Now that it's officially out globally, I can finally offer some thoughts and reflections on the long-awaited continuation of the cult-beloved Ayakashi/Mononoke series. My main tagline for this review can be summarized thusly:

I liked it...but it could have been better.

(~ not spoiler free, read at your own discretion ~)

Karakasa: Visually, it's a bang---structurally, it's a bomb. That about sums up how I feel about the movie overall. It's vibrant, beautiful, and full of intricate patterning and details, and is in a way: both a step up and a step down from the original.

...But what do I mean by that really? Well, I think we need to first highlight what makes Karakasa and Mononoke rather different.

Ayakashi/Mononoke has a much slower pacing, with slightly more muted, and washed-aesthetic tone despite its colourful designs. It shifts from being more colourful or more sombre depending on the type of scene it wants to depict. But even at its most saturated, it never gets quite as vibrant in contrast compared to Karakasa. ...However, you could say that may be in part due to the sheer difference in animation techniques developed over the course of nearly a decade between the two (2006/2007 vs 2024).

That isn't to say Karakasa doesn't have moments of dark imagery, but that even at its darkest, it remains distinctly vibrant and high-in-contrast. You could argue for it as a conscientious choice...but personally, at its root: Mononoke is a horror-ghost story; and the gritter, muddled palettes rather add to that charm.

(2007 Mononoke - Noppera-bou, and Nue)

(2024 Karakasa)

To match its mood, Mononoke also has a much slower cadence and story tempo, despite any singular arc being overall shorter than Karakasa. That cadence adds to another difference: which is spookiness. I find Mononoke to be far spookier and more effortlessly imposing than Karakasa. There's a bit of tension and suspense in the way it's presented: both visually and vocally* (a point I'll bring up later). Mononoke is sometimes boldly laid out in seemingly disjointed flashes, but still somehow ends up cohesive and immersive with its themes and motifs; feeding you just enough information to wet your appetite as to where and just how far it wants to take you. And this is of course, done in parts over the span of 2-3 episodes.

Karakasa on the other hand, has a pacing that feels like a marathon. It seems almost lightning fast, despite the first half of the movie being entirely sociopolitical intrigue without much in the way of anything overtly youkai-esque. In fact, our Medicine Seller doesn't even step foot into the Ooku (women's court) until around 40 minutes in...which is nearly half the movie! ...But naturally, since it's a movie, it will be movie-formatted. Everything is going to run as if it were one singular episode long. --- Still, what does that mean for the pacing?

If you don't know what "tea house tales" "is.....it's basically a format of short stories told over several sessions. It's one of the ways people in the historic East used to tell stories. They'd gather around somewhere, drink tea, eat snacks and share a bit of light entertainment. In the same way the episodic nature of Mononoke is somewhat reminiscent of that. Each part feeds you a bit of information, a bit of mystery, a bit of suspense, and a bit of action. It keeps you sufficiently entertained one way or another without stringing you on far too long before any sort of climactic reveal. In this way, Mononoke feels more balanced and evened out than Karakasa. But even the format aside, I found Karakasa a lot less clear and concise with what it's trying to portray. There were parts of the movie I had to re-watch a few times or sit down and think about afterwards just to fully understand what I think it was alluding to, which wasn't an issue with Mononoke whatsoever. The plot, both visually and thematically was always clear as day for the original series, where as Karakasa sort of muddles on and off between mystery and court drama over the course of an hour and a half.

Personally...I think one of the detriments to Karakasa is the sheer size of its cast. There were simply way too many characters (27+), and some of them even have overlapping roles. There were also quite a few without clear rhyme or reason. For example, we get introduced to Tenshi, Mizoragi and the moon twins, and an assortment of other characters who don't really have much of a presence in the movie (other than to to be positional seat warmers) and are shown for a collective total of a few minutes. Karakasa IS a trilogy however, so it's possible that their roles may be elaborated in future movies, but in regards to the current film, they feel like a distraction. I guess they're going grand and all out, but the benefits of a smaller cast is that you get more intimate with each character and their already very limited screentime. It just wasn't possible for me to feel any intimacy or investment into the large cast of Karakasa---Asa and Kame included.

Comparatively; I always felt truly, fully immersed in all the story arcs of the original Ayakashi/Mononoke. I cared about the characters, or was so invested in their sorrowful tale. But I didn't particularly feel that way about Karakasa because whatever message it was trying to convey kind of got lost in-between all the court drama...which, I'm not sure some viewers may even understand or empathize with unless they already have some knowledge of what women in the imperial harem go through or how it functions. (Speaking of which, Asa practically speed ran the exposition towards the end regarding Kitagawa and her own motives.) Just to name a few: there's the rank struggles of Asa and Kame versus the leaders of the Ooku; the political positions of Fuki, Botan and the other consorts, the political household ties of Saburomaru, the grip of Mizoragi's strange cult, and the (lack of) political power that Tenshi (the emperor) holds versus the Shogunate in the Capital (---I'm not entirely sure what timeline we're in right now, but the fact that there IS a Shogunate implies a lot.)

...Anyway, you can see why there are too many distractions in this movie for me to fully feel immersed in whatever it's trying to tell. It's supposed to be a movie of women's suffering (under the weight of men and the social sphere I suppose), but most of the time it felt more like I was just simply suffering watching women cat fight each other until they quickly got picked off by the Karakasa mononoke.

Speaking of the titular "Karakasa", though... it certainly was an interesting choice of youkai. I wonder if it was because traditionally, karakasa aren't violent youkai, they're merely scary tricksters; and it wasn't as if Kitagawa was really out for revenge (though she did pick off a few people).....actually, now that I've written it out that way, Kitagawa's motives are a little unclear. Or maybe it didn't matter anymore as karakasa grew to the point it became uncontrollable. Either way, I think if they had refocused the movie on Kitagawa and actually visually show the parallels between her, her "friend" and Asa/Kame...instead of giving us a verbal speedrun exposition dump towards the end...I might have felt a little more sympathy (...or just simply anything worth feeling towards the story). But alas.

It certainly didn't help that I was a little unsatisfied with some of the voice cast. For the most part, I was okay with the side cast (particularly the males, since the females hardly had lines); but felt it was a waste that Tsuda Kenjiro (Mizoragi) also hardly had any lines (...though I have a feeling he'll play a bigger role in the next movie). He was actually even one of my 3 ideal choices for Kusuriuri's recast (next to Ishida Akira and Toriumi Kousuke). I've said it before and I'll say it again, I love Kamiya Hiroshi, he is one of my favourites...but I think his role as Kusuriuri was a bit lackluster since his vocal range is medium-high and therefore does not go deep or husky enough to carry the same spook factor that Sakurai Takahiro's voice has. Karakasa also lacks the unique staccato often used in the original Mononoke which gave it an overall interesting sound and pace. I loved the odd vocal nuances and pauses in the previous work and was very sad that it's more or less nonexistent in Karakasa.

My second complaint would be with Asa and Kame's cast, which I felt might've benefited more from actresses with more interesting inflections. Kurosawa Tomoyo is an okay actress. She gets the job done but generally does better on long-running series since she takes a long time to fully have a grip on her role. Honestly, she was on auto-pilot and was quite boring throughout Karakasa. Aoi Yuuki on the other hand has a lot of vocal range, but generally suffers from inconsistency and just sounding like nails on a chalkboard. (I won't even mince it; my housemate walked in on me watching Karakasa on the telly and literally flinched at her voice because it severely hurt her eardrums---my condolences).

Generally speaking, I do prefer older seiyuus, they just have qualities I enjoy more, but I do also think the movie would've benefitted more from either a liveaction casting or a Showa casting. Most of the characters (in both Mononoke and Karakasa) kind of...oddly use modern speech instead of feudal Japanese (minus Utayama), and given that the Ooku IS a court drama, doesn't use court language or any regional dialects whatsoever (granted I'm not even sure if this is Kyoto, Edo, or wherever). Awashima and Mugitani do use formal language, but only Utayama uses slightly older diction. With the exception of a few notable names, most of the cast for Karakasa are from a generation of newer/younger voice actors, whereas Mononoke consists of an older one. You probably won't care unless you're a seiyuu buff, but there is actually a clear vocal distinction between those of different acting generations. For example: Sakurai, Kamiya, Ishida, Tsuda, Ogata, Hayashibara, etc...all have particular qualities to their voice that give it a layer of interest (ie. whispiness, huskiness, nasalness, etc). I don't know if it's caused by the difference in learned language or some other factor, but newer generations of voice actors tend to have more clear-toned voices with more modern inflections. Kurosawa and Aoi both have notably modern inflections when they act. You could say it's a battle of old versus new if we're going by story theme...but in which case, the rest of the cast could've been of an older generation to portray that. (But well, I'm glad they chose an older actress for Utayama, at least). The few exceptions to this are a small handful of modern actresses that are so astoundingly skilled they break that barrier. I kind of wished they had casted Hanazawa for Kame instead but she's already Kitagawa...but in which case, toss Sawashiro Miyuki in that role, I think she would've been a bit spookier. Hanazawa as Kame might've made her more endearing to me, but maybe they were going for the double-double: irritable voice and character combo, since Kame wasn't particularly written to be likeable. --- Kame does somewhat feel like a second generation Kayo (MAO), but I think MAO was still more serviceable to my ears. Anyway. I don't think I should hold up this review post any longer with my derailed rant on voice acting. It is what it is, and at the very least: we found out some lore bombshell that there are possibly at most 64 medicine sellers, and that Sakurai (Ri) Kusuriuri and Kamiya (Kon) Kusuriuri are different characters altogether (---a lot of fans rejoiced about that), making the possibility of two or more existing at one time. Wouldn't that be exciting to see?

Moving on to the music. In contrast to the trailers, the soundtrack in the movie sometimes feel like background white noise. It almost seems like a trend with newer anime, but nowadays, I hardly hear the tracks compared to older shows. Well, in Karakasa in particular, the movie is moving at such a jilted pace: most of the sounds you will hear is either dialogue or the occasional clinks and clangs. They don't really blast OSTs like they used to (...unlike Hollywood movies where I hear too much BGM). --- But following the odd quirks of Ayakashi: some of the vocal themes for Karakasa still are that weird mash of modern and traditional sounds with the occasional rapping. Particularly during the fight scene, there were some hardcore bass rap on cue. I'm not sure if I like or dislike it, but it is different. My favourite track is the Okami-esque flute theme used during the Birth Celebration Ceremony towards the end. But whether it's Mononoke or Karakasa, what stands out in both is not the score, but the sound effects which have always been the distinctive noise of the series.

The teased title for the next installment is "Ashes of Rage". I wonder what that could mean? We're left on a bunch of cliffhangers, such as why did Kusuriuri smile while looking at the clouds, what's the deal with the seal in the well, and what was Mizoragi doing in the cellar pouring water over what looked like an enclosed basin? Moreover, why on earth did they lore drop so much on the background of the medicine sellers...not in the movie but during the side interviews! The fact that they have a home base, or that the Shingi (alters) are different people... So do you mean to tell me, I still can dream of an Ishida Akira Kusuriuri!? There are at most 8 trigram Taima swords, and 2 of which are Sakurai and Kamiya's. Does that mean there's still room for another 6 Kusuriuris? That's so fruity!

If you made it this far, thank you for reading. I also I hope you watched the movie before perusing this given that it's so spoiler heavy. While it does seem like I had a lot of complaints, make no mistake: the movie was gorgeous. It was made with painstaking visual efforts and intricate architecture. Every stroke and splash is a work of art, making it one of the most visually interesting movie in a long time.

While it doesn't replace the old Mononoke in my heart, the Karakasa trilogy is a nice addition; something different and its own thing. A lot more action and a lot more abstract if you dig that sort of presentation.

Given that the trilogy isn't over, I have no doubt the rest of it will continue on with Kamiya's (Kon) Kusuriuri...but I do hope the series continues to keep receiving love so I can eventually have a whole Sentai Kamen rider group of Kusuriuris.

Until next time...~!

[readychilledwine]

Till Death Do Us Part

SJM Villains Week - Day One - Origin Story

"Are people born wicked, or do they have wickedness cast upon them?" -Wicked the Musical

Summary - Beron had known love once in his life, and even that was ripped from him

Warnings- This fic has some heavy topics. A whole species of fae is hunted for their wings until extinction. While it is not done in great detail, if that will potentially trigger you, please consider skipping this.

Other warnings- reader Death, spousal abuse, domestic, and child abuse inferred, loss of a spouse, death of a mate, in summary, just not my normal happy love story. Edited and formated on my cellphone, long story, if you see errors, you definitely didn't 👀

A/n - Happy @sjmvillainweek day one. I was sent a request about Beron losing the love of his life being his villain Origin story. I bounced between doing this as a mini series or as a one shot, but landed on the one shot due to mini series that end with reader Death not being a personal favorite of mine, plus, writing reader's death after writing 3 parts of her and Beron falling in love was rough. If you all want it, though, let me know I guess? Today is very out of my box, as you all will see with my Maeve fic queued for later, so to those of you who frequently write reader/oc deaths, I truly admire you. This was hard.

🪽Peep the Wings of Prythian headcanons Here 🪽

🗡Villains Week Masterlist🗡Master Masterlist🗡

The stake set in the middle of the grounds was the seal on the impact of Beron's actions. 100 years, 100 happy years of keeping her safe, and now he was locked in his own room, trapped as her execution was set up. 

He should have known better, should have hid her better. Her kind was already rare and in the last 100 years, she was finally the last one. One last trophy to hunt and he had led his father right to her. 

Lifeless wings hung high on his wall, still fresh with the scent of her blood.  The luster they carried was fading, the vibrant burnt orange now a muted tone of its former glory. 

Beron put his head in his hands, the faebane chains around his wrists clanging with laughter as he did. He forced his mind back to a happier time. 

Fire Festival had you running around the small market near where the Leaf Folk lived. Mother needed flour. Father needed wine. Your sisters wanted candy. The first of October was special to you all. To your whole race. It was the start of a 31 day process where the females of your race were courted, married, and the hopes of young offspring came. .

Fire Festival was for lovers. It was for passion. It would be your first year to partake, and while you knew it took some females 3 attempts to meet their match, your wings couldn't help but flutter in hope you would meet yours this year. 

As you day dreamed, supplies in a basket, you were blind to the male watching you. An outsider that had vendors closing their doors and windows with customer's inside, mamas rushing their children into their homes.

A voice cleared behind you, pulling you from your daze, “My lady.” It was instant, that snap of the mating bond tugging and tying you two together into a cursed string. ..

The dark-haired male put his hand to his heart, blindly stepping closer to you. Dark hair sat on top of his head, styled and brushed into perfection despite the evidence he had arrived on horseback. His slender face was handsome. Sharper cheekbones, full lips, a nose reminding you of a hawk beak. His clothing was high end, hugging his body as if he was poured into the material. “Beron,” he spoke to you, ripping you from your study of his figure.

“Y/n,” you whispered back, wings moving slightly to be out of sight.

“I have no interest in those,” he motioned towards them. “Only in the rumors of elder flowers in this area.”

You blinked at him, the olive branch you were about to offer him was dangerous, “I can show you if you vow to never speak of this place.”

Beron fought against his father as he was pulled to the temple. He knew the female he was being forced to marry was nice enough, beautiful, wealthy. He was forced to stand at the altar, a knife held to his little sister's back as he did. Aurelia entered either her normal grace, her own face solemn as the fae stood and she was escorted to him by her own proud father. 

Her dress reminded him of a princess from tales of old. Far too large, puffy, and in a shade of white that did not compliment her porcelain skin and hair like fire. 

They were both silent as they took their vows and the count down to your execution began. 2 hours. 2 hours he'd be forced to spend drinking and all that did was encourage more memories of you.

The pull of the bond became too much the following October, and the letters written on oak leaves could no longer be enough for either of you.

You were taking a huge risk, using the first feast and bonfires to sneak to his hunting cabin just a few miles away from the hidden edge village you'd spent your life in.

Beron was waiting on the porch, eyes coming alive as he heard the sound of your leaf-like wings crinkling as you flew over to him. ..

He caught you quickly, arms going around your waist, pulling your head to his chest. .

The first hug of many.

The first night filled with laughter and stolen kisses that'd come with the next 99 years.

He carried your one bag, frowning at your lack of possessions.

"Is this all you have, my love?”

”All I need,” Your tone was confused. “Did you expect more?”

He had. He had expected more than just the 7 dresses he pulled out. More than the one necklace he had given you. More than one more pair of leather shoes.

Beron glanced at you, chocolate eyes slightly sad, “I'm going to give you the world.”

Beron and Aurelia watched in silence as people drank and danced. “You said you were running,” he whispered under his breath to her. “You said you were leaving to prevent this.”

Aurelia looked at him, her whiskey colored eyes narrowing, “Do you think I didn't try to get him to come grab me? Do you think I sat and did nothing despite our deal?”

He rolled his own eyes, “Careful with your tone, wife,” the word felt like ash. 

“Am I your wife? Or is she locked in the fox holes waiting to be the final show for our wedding? Who else has their marriage start with the burning of their husband's who-”

The slap that came before she could finish that sentence made the room fall into silence. Another beginning. Another drastic change. Beron knew Aurelia had sold out the location he kept you in. Her father had been the one to drag you in, bleeding and crying, dress torn. 

Beron's father motioned for the night to continue like nothing had happened, as if he was beaming with pride at his son striking his wife. 

“Just because he didn't want you after you willingly handed him your cunt, doesn't mean I didn't want y/n. I hope you enjoy both of us being as miserable as you clearly are.” 

She sat wordlessly next to him, holding her cheek. She'd been warning of the heavy hands the Vanserra males carried, but Beron had never been aggressive. He'd always been kind to her. But she knew she was you and clearly Aurelia had gotten herself into dangerous territory. 

Beron watched the clock as it ticked an hour. An hour to day dreamed about you.

The wedding of the Leaf Folk were not performed in a temple, an odd thing for Beron as he stood under the oldest apple tree in the groove. Its twisted trunk and tangled branches were almost menacing as you followed his eye. 

You took his hands, whispering in the old tongue and making the tree light up with runes and stories of lovers wed under its branches. You were the last of your kind. The village somehow found and pillaged in one night. The groove of apples around you both was struggling, dying off slowly as its caretakers became a lost memory. “What do we do now?”

"We close our eyes and feel. We will know if the land blesses our union,” you smiled as you answered, closing your eyes. Fireflies began to fill the area, a slight breeze carrying the sounds of gentle music. You both opened your eyes to the deer to the fireflies.

“What the hell,” he paused. “What is this?”

"Approval from the Mother. She has blessed and signed off on our union,” Your hand went to the new rune in the tree, eyes watering as you followed the curves and slopes. “We're married.”

Beron was forced to stand, shackled again as guards made him and Aurelia walk to where he'd be forced to watch you burn. His family and Aurelia's father too spots near them, the other High fae in attendance whispering as they also took places. Public execution in Autumn was a favorite pastime for the rich high fae. They loved watching the poor, the criminals, the low fae burn or be gifts to the trees, consumed root by root. 

His father had known that wasn't an option with you. Had he given you to the trees, the trees would free you. No true crime was committed, and on top of that, your kind was so closely linked to the trees, your life forces depending on each other. 

Beron had tried to warn his father what killing you would do, how his family would lose control of the trees and the forest, how that was a magic given to his family by the Leaf Folks elders hundreds of years ago. A promise not to hunt them, yet every Nobel here had a pair of those wings on their walls. Fresh ones. 

Beron pulled against his chains as he heard you fighting and screaming in the tongue of your people. He watched as you spit on the male dragging you, watched as you spit on his father. 

You had, in many ways, made Beron's life easier. You had killed two of his brothers during your capture, making him the clear heir. You had stabbed his father with something rumors from the healers say wasn't closing, festering in his skin and muscles like an infection. The look of pride as you looked down from your nose towards his father made Beron smirk. You'd die a warrior. Die with not an ounce of fear but instead a river of rage. 

His wife. His powerful fearless wife.

That sneer didn't change as you were tied to the stake. It didn't change as your so-called charges were read. It didn't change as you waited to be given the ability to speak one last time. 

“The last of your kind, yet you won't beg for your life?”

“No,” you answered his father plainly. 

The High Lord seemed surprised as he spoke again, “So you will curse my son to a life of madness?”

“I've cursed your son and court to so much more than that already,” you glared

It was then that Beron noticed the runes carved into your body in captivity. He held his breath as he read each one. As he read the fate your death would seal for this court and for him.

You had been lied to, told he gave away your location, that he handed you away willingly in exchange for the bride sitting next to him. All lies he would never be able to change.

It looked as if you were praying, but Beron knew the signs of Leaf Folk magic now. He knew what was happening as the wind picked up and lightning struck as your pyre was lit. 

Beron shot out of bed, shaking his head as the nightmare replaying her death was fresh in his mind. He still blamed himself, still blamed Aurelia. 700 years later and he wasn't over her. 

But how could he have been? Her curse was a plague on Autumn. A deep rot that settled into the remaining signs of her village first. Then that grove he had married her in. Then the surrounding forest and villages. It was choking off life in his court. Illness, famine, and death followed in its path.

Her curse had not just taken the forest, though, it had taken him. The lifeless mating bond was doubled by what she had down. Beron lost all sense of emotion and Humanity once she was gone. He lost himself. That much was clear by the scars littering his wife and children. By what he had done to Lucien. 

He had no one to blame but himself.

He knew she was forbidden. A female considered low fae with wings like the rustling leaves of this very court, but Beron couldn't stop himself. He couldn't resist the feel of her soft skin, her scent of spun sugar and apples, her soft hair. Her eyes were his favorite thing, so light and bright. Full of life. 

As he held his chest in bed, his sleeping wife was next to him. It was those eyes that haunted him. Those last words whispered before an execution.

“A plague on your houses, a plague on your court, until a son brave enough to kill for what's right comes forth.”

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria @fandomrejects @sleepybesson @tayswhp @itsswritten @milswrites @littlest-w01f

[aspentreewrites]

and when all the flowers are rotten and all the cannons shot

Chapter 1

Pairings: Codywan

Tags/Warnings: slow burn(ish), fake dating, only one bed, general angst and pining, AO3 rating is E for future chapters

Link to read on AO3 here!

Description:

The truth of the matter burrows deep into Cody’s skin, settling into the home it’s long-since made for itself there, nestled tightly amongst the other secrets he harbours that are too shameful to ever speak aloud.

He digs his fingers into his temples, breathing in heavy lungfuls of the steam-drenched air as if it might reverse the realisation that now weighs upon his heart like lead.

This is no longer just some passing infatuation.

He’s in love with Obi-Wan Kenobi.

(or: an account of the relationship between one Marshal Commander and his General from in the midst of a war.)

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A/N: In my unending quest to name all of my fics after The Amazing Devil songs, this one is taken from Elsa's Song. If you're reading this on Tumblr, you're getting a unique version of this author's note - hello there! I usually just link to my fics on Tumblr, but this time I've decided to post each chapter in full here!

Any and all comments are massively appreciated, and if I can format anything better for posting here please let me know. I'm aiming to have the next chapter up in 2-3 weeks :)

Huge thanks to my wonderful friend @whenyourfavouritedies (link to their AO3 here!) for beta reading.

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He’d had a good run, Cody thinks to himself as he faces down the adversary in front of him. Perhaps he could avoid the mortal embarrassment of defeat by defenestrating himself from the nearest window - at least then his death could be ruled as a bizarre, impulsive moment of pure lunacy rather than the alternative of being done in entirely by the man in front of him.

… The man in front of him who evidently seems to be expecting a response to his words. 

Cody, the Marshal Commander of the 212th who has spoken in front of the Council multiple times, who’s renowned throughout the GAR for his prowess at quick-thinking and strategy, desperately tries to muster something. Gingerly, he collects the shattered pieces of his brain from the floor, and attempts to produce something coherent with them.

“... Oh,” he manages, trying to not let his words come out as strangled as it feels like they could in this moment. “Right.”

As it turns out, those two words alone are insufficient, at least judging by Obi-Wan’s look of pure bewilderment. The Jedi tilts his head a little, studying the clone before him.

“Is everything alright, Cody?” he asks tentatively, before glancing back to the mission briefing on his datapad. Cody’s eyes remain glued to one word in particular, practically glaring at him from the harshly backlit screen of the tablet. 

He can feel a headache coming on. 

“If it’s too much, Anakin has offered to spare Rex, but to be perfectly honest–” 

Absolutely not. The only thing Cody can think of that would be worse than going on this mission at all would be someone else going in his place.

“-- I’d rather avoid a repeat of what happened on Corellia, if at all possible,” Obi-Wan murmurs, stroking a hand over his beard. He frowns slightly at the memory, and Cody files the subject away to ask about later, though for the moment he has far more pressing matters to address.

“Right,” Cody repeats, before finally remembering that he does, in fact, know how to string words into a sentence. His eyes snap up from the datapad, meeting his General’s gaze. Discomfort claws its way through his body, constricting his throat a little when he tries to gather himself. “Yes, sir. I’m just wondering, about the aliases-”

Obi-Wan huffs, clearly having his own strong opinion on whatever he thinks Cody is about to say. “Yes, well, I appreciate that the backstories aren’t as detailed as they could be. I did mention it, but the Council did what they could on such short notice.”

“Of course. I’m just wondering if we have to be–”

“Really, it’s a miracle that they even had anything planned, knowing them.”

“-- Married?”

Obi-Wan blinks, and a long silence stretches between the two men. He studies Cody’s face again for a moment, before he looks back down at the datapad, his brow furrowed slightly as if he’s only just considering the implications of the mission for the first time. 

Cody stands, steady as ever, though behind his back his fingers twitch anxiously. From the Jedi's telling, it’s going to be a fairly quick undercover stint - a handful of days at most. They’ll be staying at a hotel-slash-resort out in a neutral system, where they’ve been tipped off that a handful of Separatists are meeting for a business deal that could debilitate the Republic if it goes off smoothly.

A tad dramatic, perhaps, but when intel like that is received, the Jedi have to ensure that the call to action is answered. And who better to answer it with than one of their best? 

Unfortunately for Cody, the Jedi’s best has a penchant for dragging him along, too.

This type of mission might be incredibly rote for the General, but for Cody, it’s… An intimidating prospect. He’s a soldier, a strategist - a damned good one at that, there’s a reason he’s been given the position of Commander - if there’s one thing he is decidedly not, however, it's an actor.

It’s likely that the more experienced man hadn’t even given Cody’s involvement a second thought - they’re by each other’s side on most battlefields, after all… This arena, though, is an untrodden one. After some consideration, Obi-Wan quirks a brow and looks back up at his Commander.

“You’re aware that we wouldn’t actually be signing any legal documents for the sake of the mission?” he queries, as if that were at all the issue Cody is having here. Stars, but does this man like to play dense sometimes.

“... That’s not the point, sir.”

“Then what is? Do you not think I would make a fine husband? My dear Commander, you wound me.”

Cody has the quiet suspicion that if anyone had the fortune to wed his General (not that the Jedi were even allowed such things), they would find themselves spending a considerable portion of the rest of their lives having to put up with his unfortunate sense of humour. 

As it happens, Cody is the one who’s taking the burden for that responsibility at current. It’s been slowly driving him up the wall for the better part of the war effort.

“I’m sure you would make a good–” no, that’s not appropriate, “a fine–” he stops short, glowering at the amused smirk that has plastered itself on his General’s face. Obi-Wan seems to be garnering a little too much delight in causing him to stammer like a schoolchild, the victorious glint in his eye evident. Cody shakes his head, persisting despite the flush that he’s sure has appeared on his cheeks. “... You know what I mean.”

Much to Cody’s relief, Obi-Wan takes mercy on him and drops the subject. He glances back down to the datapad with a thoughtful hum, his expression returning to something a little more dignified.

“It was ultimately a logistical choice. We would be sharing a room in the hotel, regardless, and the cover makes it considerably less likely that people would raise questions.” A pause, and then the Jedi’s voice turns a little more gentle. “If it would truly make you uncomfortable, Cody, then we can come up with an alternative.”  

Cody finds himself shaking his head before he even has time to think it through properly. It’s… Fine. He’s fine. The thought of pretending to be Obi-Wan’s… husband, makes something strange curl in his gut, a sense of tightness and discomfort that he can’t quite identify. 

He pushes the feeling away, telling himself that all it is is feeling unsure about going undercover in general - it will be, after all, his first time doing so for more than a few minutes at a time. He’s bluffed to get past guards and to stall enemies, they all have, but he’s practically a shiny in this territory. It makes sense that he’d have some nerves.

“No, I… I’ll take the mission, General. I was just…” he hesitates. He was just what exactly? Cody isn’t entirely certain. “I’ll just need some time to look over the aliases, to prepare. Being undercover is… Not my usual wheelhouse.”

That’s putting it lightly.

“If you’re certain?”

Cody holds the Jedi’s earnest gaze for as long as he can muster with this odd sensation sloshing around in his stomach. He manages a nod, moving to take the datapad from the other man as they prepare to move onto other matters for the morning.

“Yes, sir.”

______________________________

The night before the mission rolls around, Cody finds himself still awake far too late into the night. He’s at his desk, poring over multiple tabs of research, and Stars, there’s still so much to cover before they’re set to leave.

He’s… what is it that an actor would call it? ‘Studying’ the fictional man that is Vidarr Emerin, a wealthy investor who’s gained a frankly ridiculous amount of credits from backing a series of Spice mining projects on Kessel. Vidarr isn’t actually involved in the day to day operations of the creation of the drug directly (and thank the Force for that, because Cody couldn’t realistically describe the process if there was a blaster to his head), though he has his fingers in many metaphorical pies of Kessel’s ‘industry’, if one can call it that. 

Vidarr is ruthlessly efficient, cutthroat, and has more money invested in the black market than Cody has ever seen in his entire life.

His favourite colour, the document notes, is brown.

They’re hoping that, due to the planet they’re travelling to not having seen hide nor hair of the war as of yet, Cody can blend in as a regular human without issue. If he were to be clocked as a clone however, he and Obi-Wan have come up with a story that fits. A benefit of their cover is that if any clone were to defect from the GAR, Kessel would likely be a decent option for them to run to, due to its relative distance from the war and the objective difficulty in getting to the planet. It would be easier if he didn’t have to out himself, but it never hurts to be prepared.

The Commander is about three cafs into his nighttime research, and is showing no sign of slowing, currently skimming through a holonet article about Kessel’s southern equator. He’s trying to take notes on as many details as possible about the habitable section of the planet: the names of local wildlife, parks, various points of interest… It’s unlikely that anyone would want to talk to him about the geography of the local rivers, admittedly, but what if he’s caught out unexpectedly? 

No, Cody reasons to himself, taking another gulp of caf. Not worth the risk. He’ll just have to memorise the relative locations of every tributary and estuary in the local area that Vidarr is from. It’s the only way he can walk into this prepared.

It’s even later when his chrono beeps at him for attention. His eyes have been struggling to focus on the various screens for too long to ignore, and Cody’s attention turns to the empty notepad page to his right. The one that’s been staring him down all evening.

He narrows his eyes at it, sizing the offending object up. One moment passes, then another. The man groans, running a tired hand over his face and silencing his alarm. He may as well get this over with.

He returns his datapad to the page about their aliases, scrolling until he hits the ‘marriage and relationship’ section. Cody pulls the notepad over, reluctantly beginning to scribble down some bullet points. 

Renne Emerin, née Cardall, met Vidarr at a soiree attended by a handful of various small-time investors for the Pyke Syndicate, and the two began courting not long after. Three years into their relationship, they got engaged. A further year, and the two were married. This little trip together is a celebration for their second wedding anniversary.

They have a bonded pair of tookas. They’re considering adopting a child. They’re a regular, normal couple in love.

Cody turns off the datapad, pinching the bridge of his nose with a sigh. 

For the life of him, he doesn’t know why he feels such a mental block in regards to… all of this. Obi-Wan had been incredibly accommodating - between them, they’d laid out expectations, negotiated how they were going to approach this, and the Jedi had promised to not push too hard in the name of making a good cover (though Cody had insisted he not hold back on his account - he’d be damned if his own incompetence compromised a mission).

And yet… The anxious feeling persists. It’s subtler now at least, having spent the last week preparing and researching, but it remains under his skin, simmering away. 

It worsens when he thinks of the marriage they’ll have to upkeep.

His chrono beeps a second time, a harsh, needy trill that tells him he really ought to be getting to bed now. Cody grumbles to himself, turning the blasted alarm off again, before finally flopping down in his bed and flicking off the light to his room.

It’ll be fine, he thinks wearily, forcing himself to take a deep breath and settle his mind. 

If there’s one thing he trusts implicitly in this Galaxy, it’s that Obi-Wan will have his back. Discomfort be damned, they’ll get through this in one piece. Soon enough, this’ll just be a funny story to tell when sufficiently drunk.

Clinging onto that thought like it holds the last vestiges of his sanity, Cody drifts into a fitful but desperately needed sleep. 

______________________________

The Commander wakes early, exactly as he was trained. A fast shower, an efficient shave, and his bed made neatly behind him as he dresses.

At 0600 hours exactly, he leaves his quarters, fully clad in his newly issued armour - shiny, pristine, bright white plastoid that catches in the harsh, fluorescent lighting lining the hallways of the Venator. He is precisely as he should be: the perfect example of what the Kaminoans created.

When he reaches the briefing room, he raps his gloved knuckles against the door once, twice. Cody feels confident as he waits - every single choice he makes matters today, and a good first impression is vital. Yes, he thinks, mulling it over in his mind: a single knock would have been insufficient, and three would be bordering on informal. Two was the right answer, Commander. Good work.

It takes precisely six seconds for the door to slide open, revealing the Jedi he had met briefly before in holocalls, though never face to face. The Jedi he’s going to dedicate his life to. 

Auburn hair catches the light, and clean, cream coloured robes settle tidily about his form. Curious eyes settle on him, inspecting the clone likely as much as the clone is analysing the Jedi. Cody is quietly grateful for his helmet giving him the tactical upper hand in this endeavour.

The blue of the Jedi’s eyes reminds him of the Kaminoan ocean, though he’s unsure whether or not that association is a good or a bad one. The man in front of him looks methodically put together, neat and organised, as a member of the famed Jetii should be… Perhaps a little tired, though, as the faint bags under his eyes might indicate.

Cody decides it doesn’t matter. It’s surely just a sign of his new General’s commitment to his work ethic that he would stay up late to prepare for today. Something they’ll have in common, then.

The Commander’s back is, naturally, ramrod-straight as he salutes sharply, his voice strong and even as he speaks.

“CC-2224, sir. Ready for our briefing.” He knows the Jedi should have remembered his designation number from their fleeting introductions over holocall, but it never hurts to be cautious. The man has a lot to familiarise himself with over the coming days, after all. It wouldn’t be a slight if it took him a while to remember something so small.

General Kenobi pauses at that, before offering a small, if hesitant smile. It doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Of course.” He steps aside, allowing the clone entry into the meeting room. It’s a tidy, organised space, yet something about it is almost eerie in its quietude. Cody’s eyes sweep over neat stacks of datapads and consoles with no fingerprints yet on their keyboards, no dust yet accumulated on the cables filling the room. A tactical space, ready to handle and catalogue so much violence and death - years of it, more. 

And yet it is, at present, still and empty. Lying in eager wait for the blood to start spilling, to see the use it has been designed for. Today, the Commander supposes, is the day. 

The General sweeps through the room, posture so exact that it almost makes him look as if he’s gliding rather than walking. He sets up the holotable at the centre of the room, watching as the agenda for the day flickers into being, a list nearly a mile long. General Kenobi scans over the file with a quiet sigh, before he glances over to meet the other man’s gaze.

“Would you care for a cup of caf? I quite find I struggle to focus so early on in the day.”

The Jedi’s voice is gentle, softened at the edges with tiredness - not at all the tone the soldier is used to from authority. Cody frowns to himself. And he’s… Offering him caf. Not an order or command. An unexpected start to their working relationship.

Part of him can’t help but think it could be a trap. A test of how much he’d be willing to take from him, perhaps. A measure of his discipline?

Kenobi looks progressively more awkward as time presses on. He speaks up again, evidently trying to search for any hint of emotion in the clone’s expressionless helmet and drawing a blank.

“Or… Tea?” he tries, tilting his head a little. “I can make tea instead, if that’s more to your liking.”

The Commander hesitates, trying to figure out the right answer to this puzzle in front of him. Would it offend the General if he said no? Could he say no, if he wanted to? How much of a choice does he get here?

Regardless, he can tell his prolonged silence is unnerving his new General, and the last thing he wants is to make a bad impression.

“Caf… Caf is fine, sir. Thank you.” 

That, at least, seems to placate the Jedi. He smiles, a little more sincerely this time, before disappearing off to the corner of the room and busying himself with making some drinks.

Cody takes the opportunity to get a headstart on the agenda for their first day, looking over the list at the holotable with a critical eye. There’s much to do, and he’s anxious to get to it and prove himself.

“Right,” Kenobi begins as he returns, passing a steaming mug to Cody before sipping at his own. “Let us get started, hm?”

The briefing is quick, and efficient. They move through all the matters of the day - introductory training with the men, preparations to oversee supply requisitioning, and early drafts of strategy for the 212th’s first upcoming mission in the field together.

The caf is nicer than he expected.

“Before we go, Commander,” Kenobi says as the two turn to leave for the first training, his tone thoughtful. He looks to the clone in front of him, folding his hands into the sleeves of his robes. “I was wondering if I could have your name.”

… What? 

“My… Designation number, sir?” He asks, with a little uncertainty. The Jedi’s mouth twitches - not quite a frown, but something close to it. He attempts to disguise it by passing a hand over his beard. Cody tenses instinctively.

“No, you greeted me with that when you first came in,” he reminds him, voice gentle. “I meant your name. Your actual one.”

CC-2224 glitches. 

He’s not sure how long he just stares at the General, but it’s long enough to prompt Kenobi to speak again.

“... If that would be alright?”

No, no it would be decidedly not alright. This is against everything the Commander was expecting, everything he’s spent his whole life preparing for. He’s almost indignant at the impropriety. As he continues to hesitate, a flash of something like worry flashes across Obi-Wan’s face, followed by a sheepishness unbefitting of someone of his station.

He raises his hand, cutting off Cody as he finally opens his mouth to answer.

“No, no, I apologise, Commander,” he says quickly, sounding a little ashamed. “Names are… important to your brothers, aren’t they?”

At Cody’s stupefied nod, he continues on.

“I should not have asked something so personal of you,” the Jedi murmurs, bowing his head briefly in apology. “Forgive me.”

The Commander doesn’t quite know what to do with that. A brief mumble of ‘it’s alright, sir’, and an evening spent puzzling out who, exactly, his new General is, will have to do.

That night, Cody finds himself staring up at the ceiling as he tries to find sleep.

Perhaps the Kaminoans were wrong about the Jetii. About what would be expected of them. But then, if that’s true, then what else were they wrong about? 

It’s an unnerving thought, and it’s one that plagues him for the coming weeks.

______________________________

In the half-light of the ship’s artificial morning, Cody stares down his reflection in the mirror, wrinkling his nose slightly as he tugs a battle-worn comb through his hair, gently teasing the curls apart. He glances back down to the holonet vid he found, the projector balancing precariously on the edge of the sink. Making a swiping gesture in the air with his free hand, he winds back the video yet another time. The helpful, yet slightly too-fast-speaking Kiffar woman in the vid enthusiastically explains how to loosen one’s curl pattern, and Cody repeats the actions she demonstrates, his brow knitting together unconsciously as he focuses. 

The 212th doesn’t exactly have access to the myriad of supplies the vid-blogger eagerly shows the camera, but Cody’s scoured the supply shipments to source some decent enough conditioner - combined with the comb with a handful of missing teeth that he’d uncovered earlier in his room, they’ll have to do. The steam from the shower he’d taken minutes earlier permeates the room, and Cody has to pause in his delicate work every few minutes to wipe down the mirror.

He continues working methodically from the ends of the strands up to his scalp, becoming progressively less clumsy with the action as he goes. It’s strangely meditative, though it helps that his attention on this is effectively holding off the nervousness that the mission ahead of him today brings. 

By the time he finishes up, the Commander just… stares at himself for a long moment, noting the unfamiliar sensation of his still-damp hair falling a short way across his face. It’ll need to be slicked back, certainly, but it looks… Fine. Not like him, though. Not at all. 

It’s a funny thing, that sensation that other sentients would refer to as not recognising yourself in the mirror. When your face is the same as millions of others, it’s more like seeing another one of the vode. One with that same scar across the temple and with considerably less sternness about adhering to the GAR’s hair-length regs, clearly.

Cody sighs, gesturing to power down the holoprojector, finishing towelling himself off and finally heading out of the ‘fresher to get ready for the day. Regardless of his feelings on the subject, it’ll help him blend in better as a deserter, so longer hair it is.

Longer hair and an almost merc-like uniform, according to the tailored cloak and boots that wait for him in his room. Cody grimaces.

He just hopes that if Waxer or Boil see him, they’ll keep their mouths shut.

By some mercy of the fates, he’s able to steal through the Venator and make it up to the docking bays without catching the eye of any of his men (mostly, at least; he’d brushed past Helix outside the medbay but the medic hadn’t even looked up from his work). 

He jogs up the ramp to the ship to join his Jedi - already waiting for him and re-reading today’s mission details with a mug in hand, of course.

Cody spots the second mug of caf that Obi-Wan had prepared sitting over on one of the consoles and beelines for it, already knowing he’ll be needing all the stimulants he can get his hands on to feel at all ready for today.

“Ah, Commander, I was wondering when you were going to–” Obi-Wan starts, but the comment dies on his tongue. Cody glances over to see his normally so eloquent General taking a moment before finishing his sentence, his friend’s gaze flicking briefly over his appearance. The Commander raises a questioning brow, and Obi-Wan clears his throat quietly, before offering Cody a slightly short nod.

“... When you were going to arrive.” His eyes linger for a moment, uncharacteristically unsure of himself, before he turns away, busying himself by inputting the coordinates into the console. “The hair suits you, by the way.”

Cody feels strangely warm at the compliment, self-consciously reaching up to push back some of the strands.

“I’ve written up some of the boys for shorter,” he comments dryly, stepping up alongside the Jedi and taking a sip of his caf. Obi-Wan snorts in quiet amusement, giving him a sidelong glance.

“I’m sure.”

A calm silence briefly blankets them as the ship’s autopilot gets them away from the Venator and into the familiar black ocean of space, and Cody feels some of his tension ease. Of course it feels normal. He was a fool to think that this would feel any different to their usual missions. 

His eyes idly track the various indicators that display the wellbeing of the ship as he exhales slowly, lips curling up into something more reminiscent of a grimace than a smile - but nonetheless, he tries.

“You feeling ready for this?” he asks, feeling selfishly a little comforted by the thoughtful hum he gets in response. That’s a ‘not quite’ from the Jedi, and it at least means they’ll be walking into this together with some uncertainty. Cody hates feeling like he’s on the back foot.

“You can never be too ready for an undercover mission,” Obi-Wan says evenly, staring out ahead of them as the ship prepares to enter hyperspace. His fingers tap idly against his mug. “It always comes down to improvisation. A slip of the tongue here, an unexpected question there,” he murmurs. Catching Cody’s eye, the ghost of a smirk flits across his features. “... Not to worry you, of course.”

“Mm, right. You’d never do anything to cause me worry,” Cody quips, settling down into the pilot chair and buckling himself in. Obi-Wan follows suit, nodding serenely.

“It definitely hasn’t happened before, no.”

The trip through hyperspace is largely uneventful, the two falling into a companionable silence. As his thoughts stray to the mission ahead a little way into the flight, Cody realises his mind must feel a little frayed through the Force, because Obi-Wan turns to give him the look.

‘The Look’ is something scrutinising that happens whenever the Commander hasn’t quite managed to maintain his mental shields enough to conceal his emotions in a time of stress - the Jedi Order had, en masse, taught the vode how to do it in the early days of their partnership, in the interest of maintaining privacy for the troops, and as a gesture of goodwill. Cody does it well, for the most part, though it’s harder for him with Obi-Wan than with others, he finds. The man always seems to be able to see right through him.

“You’re still anxious.” It’s more of a statement than a question, and Cody wishes, not for the first time, that the General wouldn’t draw attention to his vulnerability like this. He levels Obi-Wan with a frustrated look of his own, brows knitting into a frown.

“It’s fine,” he insists. Obi-Wan looks at him flatly. Cody relents immediately, knowing that it’s useless trying to lie to any Jedi, but especially this one in particular.

He course corrects.

“It’ll be fine once we’re actually in the thick of it. It’s…” he grimaces, shaking his head slightly. “It’s the unknown of it all. At least if it’s a firefight, you can face down the enemy with a rifle.”

Obi-Wan reaches out to gently squeeze his Commander’s shoulder. The action soothes, the familiar warmth of his hand providing an anchor point of calm. “You’ll be wonderful. If I didn’t have full faith in you, I wouldn’t have asked you to join me,” he says, sincerely.

“Besides,” Obi-Wan adds, a playful glint in his eye, “if it all goes sideways, then you can happily be in your comfort zone while we blast our way out.”

A huff of amusement escapes Cody as he rolls his eyes, reaching up to cover the hand that remains on his shoulder.

“My comfort zone of keeping you from getting yourself impaled or shot? Yes, I’m unfortunately very familiar,” he mutters, exasperated yet fond.

Obi-Wan tips his head back and laughs.

______________________________

The first time he hears Obi-Wan laugh - properly laugh, not that wry chuckle he occasionally hears during briefings - it’s also the first time they’ve stayed up late together to finish up on  paperwork in his quarters. Cody has been regaling him with a tale from his youth on Kamino, relating to a particularly memorable incident involving Wooley, Boil, and a few mouse droids, and Obi-Wan laughs, eyes creasing at the corners and shoulders shaking with mirth.

At this time, it’s been about six weeks since the battalion’s first deployment in the war. The group is beginning to feel less like a random selection of soldiers and more like many parts of a functioning whole. Most notably, a handful of the men have recently started on their armour decoration. After much debate back and forth about the colour they should choose to accurately represent the battalion, Crys organised a (debatably) official vote in the mess hall with swatches of the strongest contenders.

The General had politely abstained over lunch, telling the vode that it wasn’t his place to influence their choices on such matters. Waxer indignantly declared such a position as ‘fence-sitting’, and Cody had sharply warned the young trooper that if he were to accuse High Jedi General Obi-Wan Kenobi of centrist tendencies again, it would be KP duty for a month.

The vote had come out strongly in favour of a colour they’d henceforth started referring to as ‘212th gold’ - a handsome shade that glowed like the sun when caught by natural light. As his duty dictates him to show the way for his men, the Commander was among the first to adopt it, beginning with the sunburst on his chestplate. It felt right, even with those first brushstrokes, to be able to claim something as truly theirs. Cody hopes that one day, 212th gold will represent a spark of hope across the Galaxy. A mark made entirely in their name.

A little romantic of a thought, perhaps, but it brings him a spark of pride whenever he sees the newest shinies brought in, eager to earn the paint stripes they see displayed by those in command.  

In these last six weeks, a considerable amount has changed for the men, and it’s been a lot of adjustment. Both Obi-Wan and the vode serving under him have had to figure out how to adapt, to work alongside each other effectively. The General is kinder, more human than the Kaminoans had warned he’d be - he watches out for them on battlefields, mourns alongside them when their brothers are lost… in turn, the vode are beginning to slowly open up, too, starting to share parts of their culture with the Jedi.

He’s even been learning to speak Mando’a, though Cody is privately grateful that he’s been able to warn the boys ahead of time to watch their tongues when the General is floating around. They mean well, but he knows what they can be like if they think no one can understand them… The last thing he wants is to have to deal with writing up half of his troops for discussing too liberally what happened during their most recent trip to 79’s.

Once Obi-Wan gathers himself again, he looks over at Cody with a thoughtful glance, his expression softened with a grin. 

“It doesn’t sound altogether too dissimilar to the way we were raised in the temple, you know,” he says, “... mischief and all.” 

Cody watches him from his position sat on the edge of his bed. He thinks the relaxed, genuine smile suits the other man greatly. He privately hopes he’ll get to see it again after tonight. 

The Jedi hums to himself, before adopting a fond, faraway look. “All younglings can be particularly trying in large numbers, regardless of origin,” he continues, “I do not envy the crechèmasters for the duty they have to perform.”

Cody’s interest is piqued at that. The datapad in his hand is ignored for a moment, attention turned fully to the man sitting at his desk.

“You were raised communally?”

Obi-Wan nods, pausing briefly to make an amendment to the report in front of him, slender fingers moving quickly across the screen. Stars, Cody thinks to himself with a little annoyance, the man can even make paperwork look elegant.

“Yes. Well, from a certain age at least. I was brought to the Temple around age 4,” he explains. His eyes are still a little distant, lost in the memory of a happier time. “I still have a deep fondness for my crèchemates, despite… Differing opinions with a handful of them.”

Cody nods slowly, studying the Jedi for a beat.

“I get that, General,” he says, returning his attention to his datapad. “I’m the same with my batchmates. I just… Might have had more of them than you.” 

“An understatement I’m sure, Commander,” Obi-Wan chuckles, before his tone turns softer, more sincere. He glances over at Cody, choosing his next words carefully. 

“It seems like… A wonderful thing, the family you and the rest of the vode share.” He gives Cody a small smile, though there’s something else to it, a heaviness that settles behind his expression. “... It’s a shame that such a thing was created for the unworthy purpose of war. I can only hope that once the fighting is done, you’ll be able to thrive as all other sentients do.”

The two lapse into silence for a little while, the only sound filling the room the soft tapping of keys. Obi-Wan has spoken a little about his feelings on the war over the last handful of weeks, and to be truthful, it’s not a subject that Cody trusts himself to speak about. Neither the 212th, nor Cody himself for that matter, have been deployed for very long, and the clone doesn’t quite understand all of the weight behind his General’s words. Perhaps he will come to, in time… for better or worse.

Cody has reckoned with his own adjustments in the past few weeks. He’s found himself relaxing considerably around Obi-Wan, no longer feeling the burning need to watch himself as if his General is considering decommissioning him if he puts a foot wrong. He didn’t particularly know her, but from what the other vode say, Shaak Ti was similar back on Kamino.

It took a week and one mission in the field before Cody decided that the Jetii were not the dictators they’d expected. A further week and he was convinced they had no choice in this whole matter either, and were evidently suffering for it. Like a good Commander, he'd kept those observations to himself.

As soon as he’d allowed himself to be… Well, human, around the Jedi, he and Obi-Wan had started to become closer. Cody isn’t particularly adept at it yet, but if he finds himself arriving early to their morning briefings, he’s started making the General his tea in the way he likes it. It’s something small, but judging by the way Obi-Wan’s eyes had widened the first time he’d done it, a pleased smile crossing his face, it’s something that seemed to mean a lot to him.

They’ve become… Friends, or something approaching that, at least. It’s a thought that has him steeling himself to speak now, clearing his throat in the quiet space.

“... Cody,” he says, forcing the word to come out casually. Obi-Wan glances up again with a raised brow, a questioning look in his eyes. Cody finds it in himself to meet his General’s gaze, offering an affirmative nod. “You, uh… asked me for my chosen name, when we first met,” he explains quietly, ignoring the way his stomach wants to twist as he holds out this olive branch of trust, “it’s Cody.”

Obi-Wan’s expression goes from confusion, to surprise, to something incredibly warm.

“Cody,” he repeats softly, as if testing out the sound of it on his tongue, before giving an approving nod. A smile remains on his face even as he returns to his work. “Thank you, Cody,” he murmurs, keeping his eyes carefully trained on the datapad at his desk. The Commander is grateful for it - he feels as if the vulnerability of further eye contact might make him combust right now.  “It’s a fine name. I’m honoured to know it.”

If Cody feels his heart react to the softness of his Jedi’s tone in that moment, he doesn’t mention it.

______________________________

“Mister and Mister Emerin?”

Obi-Wan and Cody share a glance at the call across the docking bays. They’ve barely been parked for a minute, and they’re already out of time. 

“I suppose that’s us,” Cody says with a heavy sigh, rolling his shoulders slightly. He looks at Obi-Wan, tilting his head with a silent question of ‘ready?’ and the Jedi nods, bringing the last of the bags with him down the gangway of the ship.

A tall, pale Nautolan woman with a checklist in hand approaches, teeth flashing a perfect, artificially white smile as Obi-Wan steps forwards to shake her hand. 

“Charmed,” he drawls in a smooth, Outer Rim accent, his voice low with lazily drawn out syllables - a stark contrast to the sharp, crisp Coruscanti voice that Cody’s used to hearing. Beside the Jedi, he forces on a smile.

“You’re here to check us in?” he says, hoping that his voice comes across not nearly as unsure and out of place as he feels. The Nautolan nods, making a scribble on the flimsi paper she’s carrying, pocketing it and taking the bags from the two of them without asking.

“Here, I’ll get these for you and show you to the main building. Is this your first time staying with us?”

The woman chatters away to them as they make the walk from the docking bays to the resort itself. Obi-Wan is as content to make conversation as Cody is to let him. The clone hangs back a little, taking in the planet around him. Brilliant light beams down on the building ahead, even as it nears the start of sundown, making him squint a little. It’s…

Excessive is the primary word that comes to mind.

The docking bays themselves are massive, on an elevated platform above a calm looking ocean of tropical blue. The bridge they’re now on connects to a few perfectly sculpted beaches that are teeming with people even at this hour, and more pressingly, a building the size of the damn Senate. Cody’s far from an expert on architecture, but it’s clearly a recent build - large windows and extravagant relief work carved into the stone of the imposing structure, of various people or mythological beings that Cody imagines he probably should recognise but doesn’t.

It all seems to be purpose-built with the intention of making the space feel welcoming to those in a certain tax bracket. 

Cody is undeniably not part of that tax bracket.

This area of the planet itself has almost definitely gone through some extensive terraforming by the looks of things, and he feels a little dizzy as he imagines the cost - coming from a corporation, no less. Part of the background provided for this mission detailed that Miphena, the planet they’re standing on, is essentially owned by the resort managers with no government to speak of. To call it ‘bleak’ would be underselling it.

They’re ushered inside by the woman with the increasingly grating customer service voice, brought through a pristine foyer tiled with marble underfoot. Cody is sure to make a mental note of that - that’s very slippery when covered in blood, so if they’re having to fight their way out, they should find another point of exit than this one.

He continues to sweep the rest of the room with an analytical eye. The main desk could be used as cover in a pinch, though it’s not in a particularly tactical location - the presence of stairs, an elevator, and double-doors through to the main events hall makes this an undesirable position to have to defend with too many points of ambush.

… Granted, it’s exceedingly unlikely they’ll be forced to stage a firefight here, but it can’t hurt to be prepared.

The receptionist leads them up to the seventh floor (with a lot of small-talk in the elevator that feels entirely unnecessary), hands them their keys for the room, drops their bags off and thanks the two profusely for their custom before leaving them alone once more. Obi-Wan and Cody share a glance, and the former smirks. 

“After you, darling husband,” Obi-Wan says easily with a flourishing bow, still holding onto the accent despite the fact it’s just the two of them. The amused gleam in the Jedi’s eye only gets stronger as Cody rolls his eyes, pushing past him to enter into the room. 

Much like the exterior of the hotel, it’s certainly extravagant. A large bed takes up most of the space, crisp white sheets with elaborate gold embroidery detailing the edges, and a plush red carpet beneath it. Every surface has some form of decoration, a vase of fake flowers here, a small metal sculpture there. A fairly incomprehensible piece of abstract art hangs above the bed, though what it’s intended to represent is entirely lost on Cody.

The two share another glance, silently communicating with one another, and get to work searching the room for any listening devices. 

Cody heads directly for the mirror, carefully unhooking it from the wall to see if the garish item is the result of the need to obscure a bug of some kind, or if it’s just the result of terrible taste.

Hm. Terrible taste it is.

Once they both signal the all-clear, Obi-Wan relaxes a little, setting both of their bags down on the bed.

“Well,” he says mildly, glancing around with a disapproving gaze. “It’s certainly expensive.”

Cody snorts, following his eyeline. “Just how much did the Republic spend to send us here?”

Obi-Wan peers closely at the strange painting, letting out a soft hum. “I shudder to think.” He pauses as Cody wanders over to check out the balcony. “This surely can’t be an original work,” he mutters to himself, passing a hand over his beard and frowning in thought. 

Cody can’t help but glance back with a raised brow. 

“... Sir,” he says, and the Jedi interrupts him with a wave of his hand, still narrowing his eyes at the artwork.

“It’s Obi-Wan when we’re alone, Cody, you know that.”

“Obi-Wan,” he starts again, amused. “Please tell me you’re not critiquing the art–”

“If it’s there, it should be there with purpose. This is soulless. It’s nothing-”

“In a resort, Obi-Wan.”

The Jedi lets out a rather contemptuous scoff, before drawing back to meet Cody’s gaze. He folds his arms, shaking his head in faux disappointment. “If you’re not the type to appreciate a critique of art, my dear, then whyever did I marry you in the first place?”

Cody lets out a long suffering sigh, not missing a beat. “I ask myself the same thing every day, darling, believe me.”

That draws a laugh from his Jedi. Cody steps out to the balcony proper as Obi-Wan begins to unpack his bag. 

The sun is drawing lower on the horizon now, painting the sky in picturesque golds and oranges as people slowly move in from the beach - a steady stream of holiday-goers and families making their way back to the hotel for the evening. Cody idly watches them, leaning out over the railing as he takes in the myriad of species, genders, and ages of the people who’ve come here for an escape. One thing seems to bind them all together despite the differences - that distinct aura of wealth that seems to permeate the very air here.

He can’t really put his finger on what it is. The way they carry themselves, maybe? The sea of perfect skin and hair, the precision in which they choose to dress… It’s all fairly alien to the Commander. None of it really feels real in the way that people tend to be. Give him the flawed mess of the Lower Levels any day.

“I’m going to go for a little wander,” Obi-Wan calls through from the bedroom. “Get the lay of the land, so to speak.” 

Cody turns, stepping back into the lavish room and stretching slightly. He sighs as he feels a pleasant ache in his muscles.

“I’ll probably stay in,” he yawns, “get an early night. Didn’t sleep well last rotation, and I’d prefer to feel rested for tomorrow.”

Even though he technically hasn’t been awake for all that long, Cody figures it’d be best to get started on adjusting to local time as quickly as possible. They’ll need to be up at dawn, regardless of if they’re ready for it. The Jedi hums in response, slipping on his cloak and heading to the door.

“That sounds wise. I’ll try not to return too late - if you’re already asleep, I shall endeavour to join you as quietly as possible.” His gaze falls to where Cody stands, offering a small smile. “Feel free to claim either side of the bed. Comms are on, I’ll see you in a little while.”

With that, he’s disappeared off into the night, leaving Cody with the question of whether or not he should take the floor tonight dying on his tongue. 

He blinks, a little stupidly, after the now closed door. It’s as if there wasn’t even a question of whether they would be sharing the bed in the Jedi’s mind. Which… Cody supposes there shouldn’t be, really. 

He and Obi-Wan have shared tents before in the field countless times, slept closely on the ground when there hasn’t been space in various quarters they’ve been given. Hells, during a mission on Mygeeto two months ago, he’d had no qualms with combining their bedrolls together for warmth.

A real bed just… feels different. Cody isn’t quite sure why.

He gives a wary sidelong glance to the offending furniture, as if expecting it to bite him. The bed, for its part, stares back at him unblinkingly, its exorbitant number of pillows providing more fuel for Cody’s growing resentment of the damn thing.

The Commander shakes his head. He’s being ridiculous. With a sigh and a mental slap upside the head, he unpacks his own bag, glancing out every now and again to the progressing sunset as he changes into his sleepclothes.

He’s almost loath to admit it, but the view is gorgeous. The twin moons slowly rise into the sky, basking the ocean in an ethereal glow. If it weren’t for the fact that he can still hear tourists partying outside, he could be tricked into actually enjoying this.

Cody sets aside the outfits he’ll need for tomorrow - something casual for the day, and something more formal for a party that’ll be occurring in the evening - before putting his suitcase down on top of Obi-Wan’s, near the door.

Sinking down into bed, he’s further frustrated to find out how comfortable it feels, reluctantly admitting to himself that perhaps the richest of the rich in the galaxy do get some things right every now and again. Rarely.

He lets out a deep exhale, pleased to find that his mind feels considerably more settled now that they’re actually here at the mission location, a little more peaceful.

It’s a relief, to be certain - Cody doesn’t really know who he is if not for the calm, collected strategist that always has an answer. His lack of certainty as of late has been… Disquieting, to say the least.

He grasps the feeling of quietude with both hands, allowing it to pull him into the alluring drift of near-sleep.

He stirs a little when he hears Obi-Wan return, the door clicking closed ever so gently. The Jedi seems to be true to his word in keeping his movements as soundless as possible- 

Well, that is at least until he takes a step further into the dark room and walks directly into the suitcases in front of him, letting out a hiss of pain. 

Cody can’t quite conceal his ensuing huff of amusement. Obi-Wan seems decidedly less pleased, grumbling something under his breath. 

The other man pads over to the other side of the bed, and Cody hears the distinctive rustle of clothes being removed. He lets out a slow breath, ensuring to stay stock still, facing the other way. Not that he could really see what was going on even if he did roll over, but…

“Sorry. I tried.” Obi-Wan’s whisper cuts through the darkness, genuine regret in his tone. 

“You’re fine. Is your foot alright?”

The Jedi huffs. “Mortally wounded, I’m afraid. Amputation likely.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

The bed dips gently behind him as Obi-Wan gets in. Cody is suddenly very grateful that everything in this hotel is oversized - it at least means they can do this without threat of the two being close enough to touch. For one long moment, he’s hyper-aware of every shift, every slight movement from his Jedi, before he forces his eyes to close.

It all falls quiet after that, apart from the gentle sound of even breaths behind him. Cody unconsciously finds himself matching them, slow inhales and exhales that serve to soothe his suddenly racing heart. He tries not to think too hard about why his heart might be racing.

Cody swallows. Thank the stars he knows how to shield, because he has no idea what Obi-Wan would say if he could sense this… Whatever it is that’s gotten into him.

With a long exhale, he uses what his General had once taught him of meditation technique to forcibly quieten his mind. He’s not allowing himself to do this. Not again.

To his immense gratitude, with a little effort (and time spent visualising the movement of the ocean outside), the calm of earlier finds its way to him once again, soothing his mind and slowing his breaths to match that of the lapping water.

As he finds himself on the precipice of sleep once more, he hears a quiet murmur from the other side of the bed.

“Goodnight, Cody.”

Cody pulls the covers up a little tighter to himself, yawning as he does so. It takes him a moment to find his voice, and when he does, it’s uncharacteristically quiet. 

“Sleep well, Obi-Wan.”

(chapter 2)

[lostinlovingrevery]

van’s inbox is open, you say?

shocker shocker. it’s me!

haven’t been in a smutty mood lately so. no feral cas today i fear. instead you have tired cas (ft his also tired boyfriend)

but anyway. logan. pookie.

mayhaps. with a reader who is autistic/has sensory issues?

i hope you’re having a good day!!! and getting some good rest and thinking about pookie 😌

a logan for you :)

CAASSSSSSS, and also hi Teo!!!!!!!!

Not smutty mood is valid- sometimes you just need the fluff, the comfort, the fun!!!!

(been aching for old man logan fluff lately. ugh he just pulls my heart strings...)

ALSO i gotta say I love how we all simulataneously began calling logan pookie. LIKE EVERYONE CALLS HIM IT NOW. The moment i see the word pookie I'm like !!!!! Logan!!!!!!

I am FINALLY resting (I know you sent this last night but that should tell you how long ive been going all week lol) and I am DEF thinking a lot about logan....

I did this in a headcanon format for now, but I am going to make a fic eventually too!!! I love writing fics for different types of readers (with a stutter, mute, deaf, etc). I'm actually planning to write an extremely indulgent fic with a hearing loss reader soon to make myself feel better after multiple extremely awkward things that happened this week that happened BC of my hearing loss...oops.

A few Logan with an autistic reader headcanons!

I honestly believe Logan would be perfect partner regarding this

i mean i think he would be perfect in general

one, he got his own things, loud noises bother him, certain sounds and places set him off into a rage. so he gets it if you have sensory stuff

logan is the type of partner to notice the little things. he notices you don't like a particular fabric purely bc your face just twinged into digust after touching it by accident (I HATE microfibers fabric just the word makes me squeamish)

he'll also notice your triggers, crowds, noises, food, lighting, etc etc

sometimes even if you do your best to avoid said triggers, they can still happen. Logan will be there 100 percent to support you and help you regulate yourself again.

i just know a hug from him would make everything feel better- however if touch isn't your thing, he will do whatever it is you need (get you out a crowd, reduce noise or light levels, etc etc)

will meet you with your food preferences.

will actively cook your food preferences too.

i think he would just be so respectful about it and its ironic bc logan is this big mean sass guy and hes gruff and complains but hes also very compassionate and once he warms up hes nothing but caring

will indulge in your special interests

be it a fandom, hobby, fav activity etc. He may not always get it but there's a lot of things out there not to understand. will do things like listen to you ramble on about said interests

ask questions and "mhm" to make sure you know hes listening. he'll be smiling like an idiot too bc he loves seeing you so happy

will support by buying the things related to interests (maybe if you're in a fandom?)

any hobbies or activities he'll try to take part of. He may not always enjoy them himself but hey you do things with him so he'll do it just to see you smile- maybe he'll even learn smth new about himself, i know hes the type willing to try anything once esp considering he's lived so long

won't sweat things, say you just need to be alone, or get upset just from overstimulation- he gets it, and will do whatever you need. sometimes he needs the alone time too-

[intheshadowsbehindyou]

your snipers are GOOD STUFF and i’m just here for how he would work (nsfw wise) with a s/o who is INCREDIBLY down to be bullied and hunted for sport and will frolic around like a deer giggling the whole time like he’s a fairy tale prince and not a gangly string bean who is filled with nothing but spite and predatory lust

I had contemplated my regular format but I think straight up fanfiction better fits this.

Sniper X Prey Reader: Primitive Instinct (NSFW)

Warning: Prey/predator shit idk what the kink is called, breeding kink

Mr. Mundy hated the feeling of primal lust when other things mattered more. He often felt broken, and inherently wrong to desire the warmth of his body intertwined with someone else’s when he should have been focusing on something else. By nature he was a hunter. Focus and mental clarity even in the darkest of hours was most important when that rifle was up to his face. He could be sad and lonely for only just a moment. Just a second in eternity. But never more than that.

For if he delayed more, he wouldn’t be focusing hard enough. All of his senses alert to every single thing imaginable. An assassin could not afford one little slip up. Less the outcome would be self explanatory.

Still, he found himself constantly distracted tonight. In the highest point of Tuefort he stood atop a water tower’s catwalks in pitch black darkness. In front of him was the distant, dim lights of the enemy BLU base. A set of ugly buildings that looked more like a factory than anything else. His night vision scope was a smuggled artifact from his hometown. It worked flawlessly despite the long trip to join Team Fortress several years ago. The cold air bit at his skin but he remained stiffly in place like an unmoving stone. Boldly standing out in the open with no regard for his own safety. He knew the difficult position he was in would make it nearly impossible to get a clear shot at him. With multiple cardboard boxes off to both his sides, it obstructed angles.

Sniper shut his eyes. His lungs took in maximum air and exhaled carbon dioxide. He counted each second, carefully controlling his own breath.

One, two, three, four…

The old assassin heard a sound off in the distance just to the right of him. As he suspected, his theory about using this BLU water tower as a nest was validated. He turned the rifle towards the source and sure enough he caught the silhouette of an intruder rummaging through the bushes.

One, two, three, four…

His previous thoughts were proven to be more of an intruder than the unlucky person he was scoping at. For a second, Sniper unwillingly diverted his attention as those lustful desires crossed his thoughts again. He swore he saw the image of a beautiful, smooth, naked body of a woman flash in his mind as quickly as the blinking of an eye. His breathing immediately became muddled again. He could even hear his own heart rate skyrocket. All it took was one little slip up. An annoying intrusive thought.

Sniper had lost location of the person’s head through the dense foliage. They disappeared behind the bramble, and Sniper had to suppress the sudden unyielding rage shoot through his bloodstream. Every bone in his body wanted to throw his damn sniper rifle across the desert and see it break into multiple pieces below.

“Bugger me!” He cursed quietly. Slamming his fist on the box he was resting his rifle on. Somehow, he didn’t even care if an apposing sniper heard him. The faster he died, the better.

Sniper held his fist, which was now wracked with pieces of wood. He was lucky to be wearing gloves. The wood didn’t pierce his skin at all. Still, now he had to growl and grumble while he pathetically pulled the shards of dangerous chips out of his left hand. If the others saw him — especially scout — they’d undoubtedly tear him a new one that he’d forever internalize until his dying days.

An assassin can’t fucking afford to miss.

His moment of self loathing was interrupted by the creak of the ladder below the catwalks. It was subtle, and barely audible. Like a wild cat’s tiptoeing through the forest. Sniper stopped dead in his tracks and his eyes slowly rolled to the source. Fearlessly, he put his hands back on his gun and waited. If he made any sudden movements toward his SMG on the floor next to him then he’d surely alert the stranger. The catwalks were sensitive with age in certain places and disregarded stealth.

The person on the ladder paused when Sniper halted his complaining. Which showed him that they were listening to him too. It didn’t quite strike him as odd, but what did indeed baffle him was then the sudden sprint up the ladder. As if the person wanted to be heard.

The scruffy man gritted his teeth. A little bit offended that somebody — even if it was a teammate — which let’s be honest that’s the only reasonable explanation for it — would approach him so casually like he wasn’t a huge threat. It messed with his ego and made him want to shoot the person regardless of who they were.

“Sniper?” A voice asked quietly. It was you, of course. The new mercenary. The youngest out of all of them. A thorn in everybody’s side with your naive youth. Who the hell in their right mind would hire such a young adult for this profession?

The older man tried shutting his eyes and focusing his breathing again. Blocking out any other annoying stimulus that distracted him. (You were the annoying stimulus.) He figured you were just up here thinking he’d be a willing ear and whatnot. As if he’d ever do something like that.

“Sniper!” You whispered a bit louder.

Sniper nearly found it within himself to haul his gun as promised earlier. He gripped his rifle like he was choking somebody. “God! What?!” He asked louder than he wanted to.

You glared at him. The lack of amusement in your eyes was noted and rudely ignored. Sniper shrugged his shoulders in a very, very pressuring gesture to get on with it. You didn’t even know how he had the patience for hunting animals.

“The others wanna know if you want some coffee.” You say. Your mouth curling into what would be a snarl if you hadn’t somewhat mastered the art of controlling yourself near these mercs.

“Who the bloody hell asks their colleague if they want coffee at three in the fuckin’ morning?!” Sniper’s voice pitched high in genuine concern. Like he had somehow realized he was answering to the most stupidest person imaginable.

Sniper’s condescending words didn’t sway you. You were too tired to react anyway. “By the way, was that you pointing your gun at me?” You asked curiously.

He paused, and that’s how you knew you struck a cord. The revelation couldn’t help but peak your interest. The way he tensed up and threatened to grip the edges of the box to the point of breaking the entire thing. He was SURE he was incapable of being seen. Your words had completely shattered what was left of his fragile self esteem. If anything there at all at this point. It was entertaining to see this supposedly self proclaimed unemotional assassin break like a twig. You titled your head and the side of your lip almost twitched into a smile.

“You think this is funny, don’t you?” He asked bitterly. Without any second hesitation or regard, he whipped out his kukri from underneath the boxes and started marching toward you. To say you were a bit stressed was an understatement.

Sniper shoved you backwards into the wall and dug the blade into the planks near your face. It hit the wood with an unpleasant noise that sounded like it had cut through flesh. It made a chill go up your spine. Nonetheless, you braved the sudden aggression. These types of crazy reactions were just common day-to-day events. You turnt your nose away from him as he got close to your face and breathed down your neck. It was heavy and quick. Like he was inches away from eating you. His chest pressed up against yours. You couldn’t tell if this was meant to be personal or not. But it felt… disgustingly delightful. Like you were eating candy.

It felt like you were being eyed by a hungry bear that wanted to tear into you and leave nothing behind. To drop the blade and ravish your delicious body. Sniper all the meanwhile could not even identify his own body’s mistake for adrenaline being arousal. A large, blunt object pressed against your inner thigh when he pressed down harder. His veins visible from the grip on his blade. You realized all the blood flowed to his companion. A thick, wet member prodding at you and quietly pleading for relief.

“What did I tell you? I’m a hired gunman. I’m not some friend of yours, and i’m not somebody who’s gonna joke with you. Gotcha?” You could hear him bombarding you but the butterflies in your stomach spoke of delightful things.

You wanted to mate with this hungry animal, until his balls were completely empty and his insatiable appetite was temporarily satisfied. You slipped under him and tore away easier than expected. Dodging an attempt on your head, you hopped up onto the boxes and shuffled as he tried slashing at your ankles. A sickly mischievous smile crossed your face, as for what seemed like forever, you dodged his countless attempts on your life. Jumping on and off the box, and causing him to run in circles around the tower. Sniper was beginning to feel like he was on some sort of babysitting duty. He was also getting angrier.

As fast as you came in, you booked it down to the ladder and slid down it. Sniper being less athletic however, had to hurry down the steps one by one. All the meanwhile complaining “Bugger, bugger, bugger, bugger!”

His anger was comedic in every way possible. You ducked underneath the brambles and patiently awaited the handsome man’s arrival. You decided to not let yourself suffer any longer. Maybe him by extension as well. Those primitive urges were something that your ancestors developed as a beautiful way to bond. In what world would you simply throw away the opportunity? As Sniper reached the bottom of the water tower, you half-assed an escape attempt but as expected he jumped on you before you could even crawl through the other side of the bush. You had no idea that toothpick of a man would hurt so much. Dead god.

“Gotcha!” He proclaimed. pinning you on your belly with his entire weight. He sat on your legs. Like a cat whose paw was on a mouse’s tail. You wondered if it was possible he’d break said legs.

He was proud of his catch, but you had no heart to tell him you gave yourself deliberately. That penetrating blunt organ was all you fixated on right now. It was all you wanted. The idea of that divine organ crushing your insides sounded like heaven. The gentle breeze of his warm breath met your ears and neck again. You couldn’t help but lift your face up to meet it. Sniper found himself meeting his lips to your neck too.

The tension broke. The two of you had clearly felt the same way. Although Sniper tried his hardest to hide his beastly instincts, nature always won in the end. The moment his lips nibbled your neck is the moment that you both individually consented. A grumble escaped your throat and it sounded like you were pleased. Which in turn pleased Sniper.

Lust is such a complicated thing. Anger and annoyance can lead to it if you go down the right path. The older man began to court you. Prodding his member against your flank to offer you a good time. He shifted your legs up and got you into a mating press. Underneath those layers you could feel him dripping with anticipation.

To test the waters he forwardly thrusted up against your clothed body. Earning another blissful sound from you. Though sniper was dead silent, his rugged breathing spoke volumes. He aimlessly humped you like a horny dog and forgot his own self control. Wildly slapping his concealed dick against your pants.

“Sniper—“ You tried to get his attention. Realizing this was counterproductive without bare skin visible.

He continued slapping against you recklessly. He couldn’t hear you, and frankly you couldn’t blame him. Sniper was determined to breed you. He was surging with hormones and ready to pump you full of his children no matter the cost. He sounded like a growling werewolf the way he began expressing his pleasure. His silence leaving him. The scruffy haired man bit down hard on the back of your neck to hold you in place. The extra skin there made it so that you weren’t hurt. Just scruffed like a cat.

You were stuck there for hours. A large man using you as his sextoy. Not even once did he slow his pace. Not even after multiple times cumming. It was only when the sun came up did he even consider.

What a wonderful thing that the gift of procreation is.

[kylieistumbling]

Ok since you guys asked so nicely…

A Daring Request

Warning: real person fanfic, no minors welcome

Tags: smut (fingering, m and f oral, piv), a bit of angst, fluff/comfort

Notes: I don’t refer to Joost by name bc I didn’t have the guts to, and this is a first-person perspective shameless self-insert fic. I know this isn’t the usual format of any of the Joost smutty fanfics I’ve found on this site so I hope you enjoy it regardless. I’m super nervous about sharing this especially as he might stumble upon it 🙈

I couldn’t sleep. As much as I tossed and turned, there was one thing that kept me awake that no amount of sheep counting could take my mind off: him.

I usually don’t make advances on guys but I had to act now. He was only in the room next door and I couldn’t contain myself any longer. I’ve bottled up this secret love for my friend for so long and now it was beginning to spill out. So against my better judgement, I got up out of bed, and marched over to his bedroom door.

Tap tap tap. I rapped my knuckles on the door, loud enough for him to hear but quiet enough as to not garner any attention from anyone else. The door opens. He’s there, with a pleasantly surprised look on his face.

“Sorry if I’m keeping you awake, but can I come in?”

“Sure!”, he replies with his usual friendly tone. He closes the door behind me before asking me if anything was wrong.

“I can’t sleep tonight. I was wondering if you could keep me company…”

“Yes of course! I’m nowhere near close to going to bed myself”, he says in a self deprecating way. He then sits on the bed, picks up his Nintendo Switch and chirps: “I was just passing the time with Minecraft, so it’s nice to have someone to talk to now!”

“But you don’t usually play Minecraft?”

“Boredom does funny things to me, bruv”

“You seem to love that word!”, I say giggling at his random use of English slang.

“What, braaaaaahv?”

“Yes! It’s weird hearing you say it!” My giggle having now turned into a full laugh. Eventually it slowly falls into a nervous smile when I’m reminded of the task at hand. I stand so tall on front of him sat on the bed, and yet I feel so small.

“What’s wrong?”, he says with slight concern. I seemingly can’t hide much from him, he can tell even the slightest turn in the mood around him.

“I don’t usually do this, and I don’t know how you’ll react to this-“

He cuts me off and interjects: “It’s ok, you can tell me anything, I won’t judge you”

I take in a big, deep breath. “Ok… I am really really fond of you. And I was wondering if I could spend the night with you”

His face turns into one of surprise

“There doesn’t have to be any strings attached if that’s what you want. And if you’re not interested in someone like me, I’ll understand…”

“What do you mean ‘someone like you’”? He interjects again.

“I mean… look at me…” I say as I point out my horribly overweight body.

“Please don’t say that!”, he says gently. He then reaches out for my hands and softly pulls himself up towards me. “You’re so beautiful, and I wish you could see that”

“Really?”

“Yes”, he reassures me. He then pulls me in closer and tilts his head forward until his forehead is resting on mine.

“I’m so glad you told me”, said in such a low tone it was almost a whisper.

I almost couldn’t believe that this was happening, I was so used to rejection that I never considered the possibility that he might actually reciprocate. The gentle peck on the lips he gave me served as a confirmation.

After that I couldn’t hold back anymore, I flung my arms around his shoulders and immediately started making out with him. He softly held me by the waist as our kisses slowly grew more and more intense the more we got into it.

My body eventually became so relaxed that I lay flat on the mattress, pulling him on top of me as I went down. Suddenly I could feel the growing bulge in his black boxer shorts align against my crotch, and my legs happily opened up more to accommodate him.

The subtle hip movements he was making went along with his hands exploring more my curves, both of our breathing getting more and more laboured as it progressed. I could certainly feel the rush of blood in my face.

His hands eventually started to wander up my t-shirt, reaching for my breasts underneath. Getting the hint, I immediately pulled it off, exposing my bare chest to him. His eyes seemed to light up upon seeing them as he muttered “they’re so big…” In return he took off his tank top, and crouched down to kiss and fondle my breasts, struggling to fit them in his mouth as he attempted to suck on them, eliciting a few quiet moans from me.

“You like that?”, he asks me. In my already overwhelmed state, I could only giggle and nod to him in response. He starts kissing me on the lips again, before making his way down my neck. This very act causes me to become very weak while at the same time my grip on his shoulders became tighter to keep him there.

Then I could feel one of his hands slide under the waistband of my pyjama pants and gently rub over my underwear on my crotch. I start to feel throbbing in between my legs as I anticipate his next move, and I hurriedly pull down both my pants and my underwear to move things along further.

He slowly slides two fingers between my folds and before whispering “wow, you are so wet right now, expressing a sort of pleasant surprise.

“That’s the effect you have on me”

He could only respond with a shy smile and a giggle, before inserting his fingers. As he curls them in and out, my breathing gets more and more heavy.

“How does that feel?”, he asks

I can barely eek out the words “that feels good” between breaths.

After a couple minutes, he pulls out his fingers and puts them in his mouth, happily cleaning off my wetness from them. He then pulls me up into a sitting position and asks me to get on top of him. He lies his head on the pillow, and says “I want you to sit on my face”.

This daunts me due to my heavier size, and I express my concerns as such: “I’m worried that I’m going to suffocate you”

He lets out a little laugh. “You won’t, trust me”.

He places his hands on my hips as I gently sit myself down on his mouth. Then his tongue starts making languid circles between my legs and immediately the pleasure starts rushing through my bloodstream.

My hips instinctively start grinding against his face and his tongue gradually moves faster and faster in a lapping motion. It gets harder and harder to contain my moaning as it progresses. Suddenly my lower body starts to contract, I’m getting close to climax. I grab hold of the headboard of the bed to stop myself from falling as my body gets weaker.

Finally it hits me like a brick wall, my body convulses and tears stream down my face as I barely manage to stay upright. As my orgasm peeters out, he gently lifts me up off his face, and I allow myself to collapse into a shaking, crying heap next to him.

“Are you ok?”, he asks with a concerned tone in his voice.

“Yes”, I reply, “that was very intense”.

He smiles back at me, and lovingly wipes the tears from my face before he embraces me and kisses me on the forehead.

“Let’s take a break for a minute”.

“Ok”

Once I catch my breath, I tell him to step off the bed as I sit up on the edge. I start leaving a trail of kisses from his stomach right down to his crotch. Then I slowly pull down his boxer shorts and his erection springs free as I do so.

I let out a little smile as he fully exposes himself to me, and I gently grab hold of his shaft as I start running circles around the tip with my tongue. His little sighs encourage me that I’m doing a good job.

I then start alternating the licking with gently sucking the tip, his hand running through my hair as I do it.

After a while, he tells me to bend over on the bed, as he climbs onto the bed on his knees. I grab a pillow and rest my chest on it as I present myself to him.

He grabs me by the hips and he gently and slowly inserts himself inside which immediately elicits a loud moan from me. There was something about this position that made everything feel more intense for me and I couldn't contain myself. As he thrusts more and more, my yelps filled the room to the point where I was surprised that I could be this vocal.

Eventually, he pulls himself out and flips me over as he crawls on top of me and gives me a deep kiss. I open my legs for him and he re-inserts, rocking our hips against each other with every thrust. My hands wander everywhere from his shoulders to his thighs as I ecstatically take in every inch of him.

Out of nowhere, between breaths he lets out a surprising remark: “you’re normally so shy, but now look at you”.

His thrusts start to get more frantic as he gets close to finishing. His heavy breaths turn into moans, though a lot more modest and quiet than I was. Finally he lets out a couple groans as he empties out.

I hold his face in my hands as he catches his breath, and he leans in for more kisses as we wrap each other's arms around each other.

He falls over to the side and I move over to rest my head on his chest. I can hear his heart pounding like crazy. He runs fingers through my hair and lets out a quiet “I love you”

This catches me completely off guard, but I respond in kind: “I love you too”.

He kisses the crown of my head and we fall asleep together, a loving and intimate end to an intense night.

[pigeonwithabriefcase]

hello. so I don't know jack shit about the meta plot of chnt. i haven't read any of the episodes descriptions or anything. do NOT know what the entity numbers or anything mean. what the hell is the limn. i don't know. so would you mind. giving me the run down,? As much as you'd like to

bett im literally so excited im twirling you around and shit thank you so much for asking Okay so obligatory: this is all completely from my observation and despite my best attempts to be factual and objective will likely contain personal bias in one way or another and in no way shape or form is reflective of what these things will actually be/are in the canon of the show. Wonderful

Firstly may I highly suggest you read the episode descriptions they are 1) Hilarious, 2) Incredibly interesting and 3) Make you feel like you're in the 2012-2015 early Gravity Falls fandom solving the mysteries and decoding the ciphers. Obviously not necessary but I've been absolutely enthralled and have had the time of my life theorising and such!!!!! :]

Basically, each episode has a description that follows a format like this:

"Major insight" is data (for lack of a better word?) in reference to the major themes/events/interactions/etc of the episode, while "minor insight" is the same but for smaller, background, or implied (but not necessarily less important) themes/events/interactions/etc. While the rest of the description is for the majority written in objective third person, "Important notes" is written entirely in first person and in such a manner that implies a new and outside presence—From which we know who the agents are!!!!!! Everybody cheered!!!!!!!!

If you follow the happenings with the show and sort of red string board connect them to the dot points within the episode descriptions, you begin to notice patterns, and decode who is who and what is what.

For example, in the episode 1 description, you can figure out what SITE2 is based on the key words "status, layout, and daily procedure". You know it's a... Well, site, or place, and episode 1 takes place entirely within the camp (as far as I remember), and contains all of the above in Sydney's announcements! Logic!!!!

I've been keeping note of this since about late 2023? Here's my observations of who each entity, each site, and each anomaly is being referred to, based on the method I just described:

There's some gaps here and there because I haven't reviewed these in a while, but pretty comprehensive, right? (Also, some of the "entities" switched places within the descriptions which was a pain in the ass to figure out, so I haven't included them to spare you from being overwhelmed?? Of coooourse I encourage you to delve into it of your own accord though :)))) Just know that the ones I listed here is the most current (within the canon) version)

Also using this method, we can begin to figure out what the hell all these things mean, cause right now it just looks cryptic for the sake of being cryptic. Just to fit with the theme of the show. BUT ALAS!!!!!

The first thing here I want to say is that the limn is an Event that in one way or another had weird wacky time-space-reality-altering properties within the universe of CHNT, of which the agents seem to be investigating. The leading theory, and most likely one, as far as I'm aware, is that it's Sydney's reanimation. (Y'know, because of true necromancy being impossible, The Clocks, all that stuff)

In this, the ENTITIES then appear to be a list of the leading suspects for who caused the limn, with 1 being the top suspect and 13 the bottom. Golly gee I sure do wonder why Jedidiah is ENTITY1, then. I suuuuure do wonder.

The ANOMALIES are a little harder to figure out. They're the weird, mostly non-human, supernatural beings that appear. My personal theory is that ENTITIES existed pre-limn, and ANOMALIES existed post-limn, but of course we can never be sure. Until. You know. But also they're the ones I'm the least certain of, and I think the fandom as a whole is also... But we ball.

There's a few noteworthy parts of this, though. ENTITY0?? What the hell does that mean?? If it's a list of the top suspects, how and why the fuck is it in the negatives. Up and Adam is, you know, a demon, so I guess I can cut him some slack there, but I have a feeling this will be covered in season 2 so I won't speculate too hard on it. For now!!!!!! The other part I wanted to touch on is Matthew's placement. I don't really have anything other to say about it than What The Fuck Is He. Also something that will probably be explored later.

The SITES seem to just be pretty self-explanatory.

All of this to say... Who cares? Why do these 'agents' care about all this? Who even are these guys? So, within the episode descriptions, particularly within the "important notes" section, we get references to AGENT1, AGENT7, AGENT15, AGENT16, and AGENT23. The first reference to one of these guys is in episode 5:

In episode 8, AGENT15 and AGENT16 are referenced, as well as AGENT1. In this episode, Tony 1 and Tony 2 appear. Therefore, we know that they are AGENT15 and AGENT16. The ever-elusive AGENT1 remains ever-elusive.

The first and only reference to an AGENT7 is in the last episode (33/34). Evidently self-referential, and thus we can infer AGENT7 is the one writing the episode descriptions

However, the episodes aren't episodes. They're FILEs. They're named as such. FILE1, FILE2, and so on. They're written as one would an corporate file (there's even a line in the "descriptions" where AGENT7 says that AGENT23 should stop giving the FILEs such whimsical titles because they're serious and not a fairytale. Or something).

If I'm not mistaken, all we really know about AGENT7 and AGENT23 personality-wise is that "AGENT7 is really serious" and "AGENT23 is really silly" per one of the old season 2 fundraiser streams. This is reflective in... Well, I'll let you schmooze around in the descriptions yourself :] They're hilarious I pinky promise.

There also appears to be a hierarchy, which I personally think is, again, in number order (based off of context clues), with AGENT1 being the top of the food chain or being the boss or what have you, followed by AGENT7, then AGENT15 & 16 (Tony and Tony), followed by AGENT23. I assume there's other AGENTS that fill the gaps in between, too, based off of the FILE14 Important Notes section.

If you're curious also,,, the leading theory as far as I'm aware for who AGENT1 is is that they're Lucille. But that's a whoooooole other can of worms.

Naturally, this is all kind of to say someone is listening. You are listening. (The tape recorder clicks you hear are meta. The static and scratchy AM radio-type noise you hear at the start of episodes is meta. Think of all the implications. The ramifications. THE RAMMIES BRO!!!!! They're everywhere.) They're investigating the weirdness of camp, as far as I know, cataloguing the lives of the cast, particularly our two leads.

The biggest question from all this is why, to what end?

Anyway go forth and come to your own conclusions, your own answers, your own theories!!! If you wish. If you do not wish that is totally cool. If you do wish we can frolic in the fields together and in earnest stress pace a meeting room pouring over a comically untidy red string board or something

[pigeonstab]

@unknownsodabrand Well Lucky you, I also love the artistic process and I keep all my sketches!! (seriously this is the most self indulgent question I could ever answer, thank you sm I'm gonna ramble a while sorry)

First I was only planning on doing the one Geno Illustration, I mostly wanted to experiment with the long 1000x2000 format bc I thought It could make for an appealing composition and it ended up being pretty challenging to get right.

So. I started with some rough planning of where I wanted everything:

Since this was gonna be a full Illustration I planned the colors earlier than I usually would (I have a love/hate relationship with coloring):

Didn't really like how it came out the first time so I just put a color mask over it, I wanted something a little warmer+brighter cause the flowers looked kinda green to me (Geno's was the one that gave me the most trouble and I liked it the least at first, by the time I finished It was my favourite XD)

Then I decided to make the three parts:

again used the same planning, rough sketch then color.

Then onto actually starting the Illustrations. I worked on these one by one but I'll show the process for all three by the steps rather than saying the same thing thrice.

as much as I wanted to keep the best for last I couldn't help myself and did the characters first.

Lineart:

(Error was supposed to be holding a golden flower so I made his hand's lineart and color layers it's own folder so I wuldn't mess it up trying to draw the flower. I looked a bit stupid so I scrapped the idea)

Flat color:

(I think I did Error's coloring after his background?)

In terms of backgrounds:

for Sans I started with the grid pattern, so I used a ruler tool and went in with color directly (the gradients are changes I did at the very end but I'm not editting out) Then I added the columns and the flowers were a last minute addition because the piece just felt a bit... naked. (also! I say columnS cause I planned on putting two, couldn't make it work the angle and space so I scrapped the bottom one)

The light is a yellowish white with gaussian blur of orange, it's an 'add' layer? ("ajouter(éclat)" because my app is in french) It's about 50% opacity.

I also shaded Sans at the same time as this with a multiply layer with a dark and light color (reddish brown and like light yellow) I'm not showing it bc I do have a 30 image limit I think

Then for Error's background it's just a case of making the lineart for the hammock, haing a layer underneath for the color, a white bg with blue gradient and the strings

For geno I have underneath the black to grey of the save screen, then I have the moss and the flowers

(The flowers were very fun to make I think I only copy pasted one?)

The lighting is a multiply layer over the whole image made the exact same way as Sans' coloring, I thought it was maybe a bit too dark so I dupplicated geno's lineart and colors folder to overlay over the lighting so he would pop more (seeing this now I think either would have been good. The first one might be better actually)

and that's it I think! If you read all of this, well first of all thank you but don't you have anything better to do?

also revised Geno's sketch once but it didn't fit in any where:

Error with my attemps of making the flowers work

[carnalhaus]

I know people usually ask about your art, but I've fell in love with your writing ngl, whenever I see bits of it on here and tiktok. It's as if I'm reading extracts from some famous author, it sounds so professional. I guess it would be a harder question to answer but do you have any tips on how to improve storytelling/writing?

you caught me at a good time because i’ve been working on the second draft of long bright dark like a madman.

first of all, thank you berry much. that’s pretty surprising honestly because i always thought my writing came off pretty rushed and awkward, but i think everybody is their own worst critic.

now i’m probably the worst person to ask because nothing i ever do is about improving, but i can try and talk a little bit about what helps me generally. something i discovered relatively recently was that making friends with other writers helps a lot. i’m very reclusive so i was a bit nervous about it, but it’s a lot of fun. it’s good to surround yourself with people who inspire you and motivate you. it’s like parallel play, almost. bounce ideas around, send snippets and blurbs, talk. i read the first two chapters of my friends novel last night and it was like i took a shot of meth, and now it’s four in the morning and i’m still writing.

i would also say don’t be afraid to let it marinate. step away, stop looking at it for a little, and go look at other things instead. read other things, watch stuff, listen to music, go places. strings of words that’ve come to me while doing other things have ended up being some of my best lines. if you look at what you’re doing for too long, it gets all funhouse-y. while you’re reading other things, try not to compare either. structure, prose, and stylization is unique from person to person just like any other kind of art. have fun and play around with what you see instead, incorporate elements you find interesting and see how it fits in for you. literally just play.

don’t be afraid to rewrite things completely. i think most people think of this as draft 1 vs draft 2 etc etc, but i think it can really apply anywhere in the process. if i find myself getting stuck on a particular paragraph, i open up something completely new and start the portion from scratch, keeping in mind the lines that i liked, and trying to reword things that bothered me. i tend to get distracted with so many things on a page at once, and end up not being able to tell what’s irritating me when i’m stuck. working through it from the beginning without jumping around, but still having that original there to refer back to, makes it much easier to sort through.

this is a fun one, but the music you listen to while you write might be fucking you up. just the other day a friend of mine mentioned how she tends to listen to music without lyrics while she writes, because lyrics end up distracting her. turns out i focus much better when i don’t have words in my ears. i’m not that disciplined so i don’t stick to it always, but it definitely helps me focus.

similarly, i think your environment in general can really help. i tend to draft things on my phone because ideas come to me very quick and scrambled, and it’s the best way to get them out. i’ve started to sit down with a drink at my computer and transfer it into a proper document to sort of descramble. even silly stuff like the colors and format of the page can help. make it look fun. i like sitting down at my desktop when im able because i think my pink fancy keyboard helps me feel more professional.

if you have questions about anything specific, i can always try and answer. here’s an unedited lbd passage.