#so that is a slog for him and his men

[sharkneto]

Like, to warrant a length like that, you have to be doing something with it. Crime and Punishment is allowed because the 450+ pages of Raskolnikov's self-inflicted mental anguish punishment is the Point. Lonesome Dove is allowed because the length and tedium of the trail is one of its Points. It takes commitment and mental fortitude to read and stay engaged with a book that long, so if you are not using all that time for a Point, for your Pacing to be doing a Thing, for a Reason, then you probably should edit and streamline, kill a darling or two, and your book will be better for it

W*nd and Tr*th really cementing my opinion that very rarely does a book need to be more than 600 pages, and doubly so for over a 1000

[0cta9on]

Lessons

Length: +7k words

Genre: Smut

IVE Gaeul x Male Reader

(Author's Note: Thank you to the buyer for purchasing this commission, and thank you to @msafterhours for beta reading! If you are interested in purchasing a commission from me or simply want to leave a little tip, head on over to my ko-fi page!)

【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】

“Ugh, this is so fucking annoying!” Gaeul groans, slamming her fist against the table, the clattering of silverware echoing throughout the apartment. Wonyoung, used to her sudden bursts of anger, doesn’t even look up from her phone. “I already told that old guy from SBS that I’m not interested, yet he keeps spamming my messages!”

“Why did you give him your number in the first place if you’re not interested?” Wonyoung inquires.

Gaeul’s cheeks turn a bright red, her gaze falling nervously to the side. “...You know why.”

“Because you’re horny?” Wonyoung posits, raising her brow.

The older girl’s face falls into her hands in misery, emitting a deep guttural groan that carries the weight of her dissatisfaction. “This is so unfair, how did you guys find boyfriends and I have to slog through all these gross older men and obnoxious boy group members?” Gaeul glances at her with a pout on her lips. “Am I ugly or something?”

Wonyoung sighs, gently holding her groupmate’s hand from across the table. “Of course you’re not ugly, you’re just… unlucky.” Gaeul faceplants into the table, her muffled whimpers eliciting sympathy from the younger girl. “Look, why don’t you just ask out our manager already? I’ve seen the way you look at him.”

Gaeul’s face shoots up, tomato red with panic. “W-what are you talking about!? That’s our manager, that’s w-weird!”

Wonyoung scoffs. “And you think touching yourself while moaning his name isn’t weird?”

“H-how did y-”

“These walls are paper thin, just because you play ocean noises in the background doesn’t mean we can’t hear you.”

Gaeul sinks into her chair, covering her face in embarrassment. With a sigh, Wonyoung pulls up a website on her phone and slides it across the table. “Here, a bunch of my friends used this website when they were in your position and they all managed to find a boyfriend within a week.”

The older girl scans the phone, immediately grimacing at the shoddy nature of the website. Aside from an embedded video in the middle of the site and a measly drop down menu titled “Lessons”, it’s essentially barebones. All the text is in Comic Sans for some god awful reason, and whatever moron made this sorry excuse for a website decided to use bright orange over pink. It’s like wrapping a terrible gift in even uglier wrapping paper.

“Wonyoung, this is… grim,” she mutters.

Wonyoung shrugs. “The results speak for themselves.” She takes her phone back and walks towards her room at the end of the hallway. “You better watch those videos. You’re already ruining my beauty sleep, I won’t let you ruin beaches for me too,” she calls out, her bedroom door slamming behind her.

Gaeul leans her head against her palm, contemplating her options. She could ignore Wonyoung’s advice and continue to foolishly look around for dick until her standards drop so low that she ends up sleeping with — God forbid — some washed up 2nd gen idol, or she could learn a thing or two from that hideous website and ask out her hot manager, potentially making things awkward between them for the rest of her career. 

She barely has to think about it before pulling out her phone, pulling up the website in mere seconds. With a deep breath, she presses play on the first video.

______________________________________________________________

LESSON 1: HOW TO GET A MAN

Being the manager of one of the biggest girl groups in the world leaves you with little energy and even less free time. At first, it was fun. When IVE first debuted, they were nervous yet excited about finally achieving the dreams they’ve worked so hard for, and you wanted to help them out anyway you could, becoming a strong pillar that they can rely on. 

However, after a couple years of idol experience under their belt combined with their very quick rise to stardom, the job that you once loved turned into a complete nightmare, which only worsened once the girls found partners. Just last week, you had to wrestle a camera away from a Dispatch worker after he took photos of Rei sucking off her boyfriend in the middle of a park—all of this at 3 fucking AM. To add salt to the wound, instead of being commended for preventing a potential PR disaster, you got chewed out by your supervisor for not managing them well enough. Sure, let’s ignore the million other times you’ve warned them about doing stupid things in public that they keep ignoring. 

At least not all of them are a handful to deal with since Gaeul doesn’t have a boyfr-

*Ring Ring*

Speak of the devil. You answer your phone.

“Hey Gaeul, what’s up?”

“H-hi, um…” She clears her throat, her nervousness putting you on edge.

“Is something wrong? Are you in trouble?”

“N-no, it’s nothing like that! It’s just, uh… Are you busy tomorrow?”

You scan your desk, cluttered with a messy pile of paperwork. Even at your most productive, it’ll take you the entire week to get through everything alongside the plethora of meetings you’ll have to attend. “Yeah, I’ll probably be busy tomorrow, why?”

“Oh, um… How about Saturday?”

“Gaeul, what is this about?”

“Just…!” She sighs audibly in frustration. “Yes or no?”

Rolling your eyes, you take a quick glance at your calendar. Aside from a note that says “buy groceries”, it seems like your entire weekend is free. “Yes, I’m free on Saturday. What is this-”

“Great! I’ll text you an address. Be there at 5pm sharp. Bye!”

“Wai-”

Gaeul hangs up before you can utter another word, leaving you to wonder what all of this is about and why she sounded so nervous over the phone. Your mind runs through all the potential scenarios this could be. As far as you know, there aren’t any events Ive are performing at and filming for their YouTube show doesn’t start until next week. Could this be a prank the girls are pulling on you?

Even as you look up the address she sent you, all you're left with is more questions than answers.

______________________________________________________________

LESSON 2: HOW TO ACT PROPER ON A DATE

Saturday rolls around after another particularly difficult week of running around protecting IVE’s image. If you’re being honest, you fully expected to pass away from stress alone after Yujin and Liz nearly got caught having a foursome in someone’s pool by Dispatch yet again. At the very least, this photographer didn’t put up nearly as much of a fight as the last one.

As you travel to the far side of the city and stroll up to the fancy restaurant Gaeul all but forced you to come to, you silently pray that this isn’t some weird way of her announcing her new relationship to you. You enter the restaurant, almost immediately receiving a glare of disdain from the host as he scans your casual outfit of a T-shirt and jeans, unbefitting of the atmosphere.

“I’m sorry sir, but we have a strict dress code and we unfortunately cannot seat you with your current outfit,” he says, flashing a condescending smile.

“Actually, sorry if this is weird, but is a woman named Gaeul here?” you ask, ignoring his poor attitude.

He looks down at his podium, scanning through some papers before his expression suddenly shifts into something more genial. “Ah, of course! Right this way, sir.” He leads you down a side hallway that’s hidden away from the main seating area, and brings you to one of many doors. “Ms. Gaeul is right in this room, sir.”

You open the door, your jaw hitting the floor in awe as you scan the intricate decorations that adorn the room. A golden chandelier hangs overhead, illuminating everything in a warm glow, while beautifully realistic paintings of fruit bowls and flower vases hang on the walls. In the center of the room sits a table, draped with a red silk cloth and topped with lit candles that set a sort of romantic mood. Gaeul sits on one end, sporting a black strapless dress that shows off her milky skin and thin figure.

“Hi!” She says, walking to you with outstretched arms. “I’m so glad you could make it!”

“Hey— o-oh.” You flinch in surprise as she pulls you into a warm embrace, instinctually slotting your arm around her delicate waist. It’s the first hug you’ve shared with one of the members, and your discomfort quickly fades as you sink into her. 

“Have a seat, make yourself comfortable,” she says. You sit across from her, your eyes darting around the room, overwhelmed by the ambience. “You like the view?”

“Yeah, this place is pretty cool, but why did you want me to come here?”

“To surprise you of course!” 

Just then, a procession of servers files through the door, carrying silver platters full of food. With each dish they place, you salivate more and more, your stomach rumbling intensely. By the time the last dish is set, the entire table is filled with various dishes of different smells, colors, and textures, none of it discernible but all of it delicious. The final cherry on top is the bottle of expensive wine that the server pours into your glass. This is it. This is Heaven.

“Since you work so hard for us, I thought it would be fitting to treat you to a nice meal,” Gaeul explains, smiling at you. “You deserve it.

“W-wow, this is just… thank you so much, Gaeul,” You say, still scanning the food in front of you. “I wish you would’ve told me to wear something nicer though. That guy at the front side-eyed me the second I walked in.”

“It’s okay, I think you look sexy in anything you wear,” she giggles, cutting her laughter short with a bite of her lip. For a split second, you swear your heart skips a beat.

Blush grows on your cheeks, taken aback by her sudden compliment. “O-oh, uh, thanks. You look, um, very nice too.”

“Just nice?” She pouts cutely. “I got all dressed up for you and that’s all you’re gonna say?”

The heat in your face deepens as you nervously avert your gaze. You compliment the girls all the time, why do you suddenly feel weird about it now? “You look… very pretty, Gaeul.”

She grins warmly, satisfied by your answer. “Thank you. Now eat up! It’s all for you.”

You spend the next few minutes in pure bliss trying out every single dish, each bite better than the last. Sweet, savory, bitter, earthy, flavor combinations you never even knew existed dance around on your taste buds; pair that with the rich taste of the wine and suddenly, you’re floating on cloud nine.

“How’s the food?” She asks. “You look like you’re enjoying yourself.”

“Of course I am,” you say, grinning at her. “I’m eating delicious food and drinking expensive wine with a beautiful girl.”

“Oh?” Her brow raises with intrigue, a smirk playing on her glossy lips. “Beautiful? I thought you said I was just pretty?”

“I-I mean yeah, the entire world thinks you’re beautiful,” you stutter, trying to keep your inhibitions in check, a task that’s becoming increasingly difficult with the amount of alcohol you’ve consumed.

“Okay, but what do you think?” Gaeul leans in like a predator backing up its prey into a corner, her light-hearted tone dropping to reveal something more sultry.

You gulp, beads of sweat forming on your head. “W-well, I think you’re a great performer and-”

“That’s not what I meant,” she states, staring intently at you. “Have you ever thought about me? Imagining what you would do to me if we were all alone with no one to bother us, just me and you?” She brings her spoon to her lips, giving it a slow, sensuous lick without ever breaking eye contact.

You shiver as her tongue dances across the silver, desperately wishing it was you instead of the damn spoon. You shouldn’t be having these impure thoughts—though you’d be lying if you said this is the first time you’ve looked at Gaeul this way. You’re her manager, Starship will toss you out in an instant if they suspect that you took the job just to get with the idols. But it’s so hard to think properly with the alcohol flowing through your system and the tightening in your pants.

 Tell her no. Stop her advances immediately before things get out of hand. Yet, you don’t object as Gaeul takes your hand, leading you out of the restaurant. The words start to meld together like goo, all you can make out is an utterance of a “good time” and how you’ve been such a “good boy”. You say a lot of things to her, probably—it’s hard to talk with her tongue shoved in your mouth—but as the taxi takes you to the familiar route towards her apartment, the only clear thought running through your head is how impossible it is to tell this girl “no”. 

______________________________________________________________

LESSON 3: HOW TO PLEASURE A MAN

Gaeul tosses her phone on her bed, scoffing in disgust. After her conversation with Wonyoung last night, she binge watched the first two lessons, even jotting down notes to remember for later. As much as she would hate to admit it, the questionable looking website is an information goldmine for a desperate soul like hers, it’s a wonder how she hasn’t stumbled upon it before. However, her view of it immediately soured again after watching the third lesson.

“Act submissive? Let him do whatever he wants?” Gaeul questions, reiterating the points made in the video. “What kind of bullshit advice is this? If I’m gonna sleep with someone, I’m not trying to be their little fuck doll or whatever!”

She paces around her room, hands running through her hair over and over again as the thoughts bounce around her frustrated mind. What’s the point in doing all this work trying to get a boyfriend if it only amounts to his pleasure? What about her needs? Is she supposed to be happy being reduced to a glorified cum rag?

Fuck no. A sudden realization hits her like a bolt from the blue — She’s Gaeul from IVE. An icon in one of if not the most popular girl group in the world. Any man should feel lucky that she even gave them the time of day.

With a newfound determination, Gaeul picks up her phone, her finger hovering tentatively over the “Call” button on her manager’s contract. She’ll use what she learned in the first two videos for sure; she’s not dumb enough to completely disregard their teachings. But if—no, when things get to the bedroom, she’ll do things her own way.

______________________________________________________________

You and Gaeul stumble through the door of the dorm, lips, limbs, and fingers intertwined in a needy ball of lust. Don’t even bother making it to her room, half of your clothes are already off by the time you reach the living room. Palm her toned stomach, savor the taste of her lewd moans dancing off her tongue and onto yours, shiver as her nails graze against your skin. Do all the dirty things you’ve kept hidden in the back of your mind.

Gaeul breaks away, sitting back on the couch as she strips away the rest of her dress, leaving her in a matching set of black undergarments. She spreads her legs, inviting you to fill the space in between.

“Eat me out,” she commands, words unwavering even as the sheen of arousal coating her thighs tells you exactly how badly she needs this. You quickly oblige, practically diving face first into her sweet heat. Discard her soaked panties; to you, they’re just another obstacle keeping you from what you really want.

���Good boy~,” Gaeul moans as you attack her slit with your tongue. You alternate between long, slow licks to flicking your tongue furiously against her clit. She yanks at your hair, forcing you to take a whiff of her sex. Her scent is intoxicating. You don’t even feel the pain anymore, all you can think about is about pleasuring her gorgeous pussy.

“F-fuck yes, lick my pussy, you fucking perv!” she goads you on and you follow her every command like the dog that you are. Her slim thighs wrap around your head, forcing you deeper and deeper into her until it’s physically impossible for you to get any closer. Forget the alcohol, you’re getting drunker on the sweet nectar dripping from her hole.

Fuck her with your fingers as you lap at her clit with a hunger you’ve never felt before. Her guttural moans are like a siren song, drawing you into her. The way her face contorts with pleasure is so alluring. You thought she was attractive already, but fuck this is the kind of beauty that only you are lucky enough to see. No hounding fans, no Dispatch, just you and Gaeul.

She grabs your hair, pulling you away from her heat, much to your dismay. “Take your fucking cock out,” she commands before pushing you back onto the floor. You make quick work of your boxers, but before you can ask for a condom, Gaeul’s already climbing all over you, lining up your painfully erect cock with her slit.

“W-wait, Gaeul-”

She clasps her hand over your mouth, leering at you with a ravenous glare. “I’ve waited too long for this to use a damn condom. You’re just gonna have to pull out or I’m kicking your ass out into the streets, got it?”

You nod, both terrified and turned on by this new side of Gaeul. With her hand still covering your mouth, she slowly impales herself on your rod, her face silently contorting with each inch of you she takes. You move to grab her hips, but she swats your hand away.

“Absolutely fucking not, we’re doing this my way,” she growls at you. All you can do is submit as she fucks herself onto you at a selfishly slow pace like you’re nothing more than her personal dildo. Your hot breath flows through the miniscule gaps in between her fingers, not even giving you the luxury of a deep breath. You want to get angry, you want to show her who’s boss, but each time she slams her hips down onto you, it’s like she sucks away your will to fight little by little until you're completely left at her mercy.

“Fuck, this is so much better than using my fingers,” she groans, throwing her head back in ecstasy. “I bet you’ve imagined this before, huh? Filling my pussy with your disgusting cock?”

You nod sheepishly. Her words aren’t entirely false; you’ve imagined what it would be like to sleep with some of the girls, but never did you think you would actually get the chance to. Gaeul rocks her hips back and forth, relishing in the way your breath quickens and your eyes twitch with each slam of her petite hips. You feel yourself begin to reach the apex of your climax and urgently tap her thighs to warn her, but all she does is laugh in your face.

“You wanna dump your cum deep into my cunt, don’t you? Impregnate me with your disgusting seed?” she teases. “I’m not on the pill. What are you gonna do?”

Your eyes clamp shut, trying desperately to ignore the building sensation in the pit of your stomach. But with her warm walls making you lose all sense of control, it’s only a matter of time before you inevitably burst inside of her. Right at the last second, you grab Gaeul’s hips and lift her off of you, shooting your cum onto your stomach. Gaeul’s body shakes violently as she reaches her own orgasm, furiously rubbing at her clit as her juices spray all over your torso. Once her messy climax subsides, she scoops a dollop of your semen off of your stomach and licks it, swirling your combined juices in her mouth with a smirk.

“Mmm, tasty,” she says, cupping your chin while her other hand strokes your semi-hard shaft. “You better get it up soon, I’m not done using you.”

“Y-yes…” you mutter, still basking in the high of your orgasm.

Her grip on your face deepens, digging her nails into your cheek. “Yes, who?”

“Yes… mistress,” you utter like the word is commonplace on your tongue. With an amused smirk, Gaeul plants a kiss on your lips, much gentler than you had anticipated.

“You learn quickly. Good boy~” Hearing her say that makes your skin shiver in delight, craving the sensual lilt in her voice. You want her approval. You need her approval. With her, you’re not her manager anymore, you’re her plaything that lives to serve her.

Gaeul bites her lip as she looks down at your cock, already at full mast once again. “Carry me to my room.”

“Yes, mistress,” you answer promptly, scooping her up into your arms. Gaeul nips at your ear as you carry her to her room, trapping yourself inside with the little beast that you’ve worked with for years. The line of morality blurs to the point of disappearing, almost as if it was never there in the first place. It doesn’t matter anymore. All you care about is serving your mistress until she’s completely satisfied.

______________________________________________________________

Your eyes blink open to sunlight peeking through the window. The mattress feels oddly soft, more so than usual. Maybe it’s finally time to bite the bullet and get a new mattress. A blinding headache keeps you glued to your back, unable to make any sudden movements. Your ceiling fan looks odd too. Has it always been this big?

The door clicks open followed by a few light footsteps. “Good morning!” That’s Gaeul’s voice. Why is that Gaeul’s voice?

Panic begins to ensue as you finally look around the room. This isn’t your room. This isn’t your mattress. That’s not your ceiling fan. And where the hell are your clothes?

“W-what the-”

“Here.” Gaeul hands you a water bottle. “I bet your hangover is killing you right now.”

You quickly cover yourself with a blanket, blushing sheepishly. “G-Gaeul… Why am I here? A-and where are my cloth-” Your jaw drops in shock as you scan her outfit — She’s wearing your t-shirt paired with nothing but black panties.

“W-why are you wearing my shirt!?”

She pouts at you, placing the water bottle on her nightstand. “Do you not remember what happened last night?” She leans in with a smirk. “Because I definitely do.”

Her warmth tickles your ear. It’s an oddly… pleasant feeling, but that’s not important right now. “D-did we…?”

“Have sex?” Gaeul finishes your sentence, sitting down next to you. “Yes, we did. And it was amazing.”

Your face falls into your hands. You could lose your job for this. Hell, you could get blacklisted from the entire industry. No one’s going to want to hire a manager that fucked an idol they were supposed to be managing. This is it. You’re gonna have to flee the country, maybe even change your name. You’ll become a beet farmer on some remote island where your only friend is a seagull and-

“Hey,” Gaeul soothes you, rubbing your back. “You look worried. Do you wanna talk about it?”

“I-I should’ve never let this happen, I could lose my job, my apartment, my-”

“You’re not gonna lose your job,” she assures you. “If they fire you, I’ll threaten to leave the group.” You turn to her, confused. “W-what, why?”

“Because…” A light blush grows on her cheeks. “I like you. And you made me feel sooo good last night.”

“U-um…”

“Do you still not remember what happened?” she sighs. You shake your head no. “Hmm… maybe this will help jog your memory.”

With a smirk, Gaeul cups your chin, forcing you to look at her. Her hair is still messy and her face is barren without makeup, yet she still looks so beautiful in front of you. She leans in, giving you that same pleasant feeling as her breath dances on your earlobe.

“Good boy.”

Like a movie, the scenes of last night’s misdeeds play vividly in your mind, reminding you exactly what transpired: The dinner. The taxi ride. The sex. Holy fuck, the sex. You’ve dated submissive girls before, but the way Gaeul dominated you was a whole different experience, nothing you’ve ever felt before. She took away your ability to breathe properly, completely leaving you at her mercy, and you enjoyed it. It felt dirty, but it felt good.

Gaeul chuckles as she notices your erection poking through the blanket. “Did that turn you on?”

“N-no, uh…”

“You’re really gonna be shy about it now? It looked like you were enjoying yourself more than I was last night,” she teases.

The blush on your cheeks deepen. “L-look, I… I’ve never done that kind of thing before. Hell, I’ve never had sex with an idol before. This is all kinda new to me,” you admit.

Gaeul sighs, gazing at the wall in contemplation. “I’ve never done anything like that before either. But I liked it.” She turns to you. “Did you like it?”

“Uh… Yeah. I did.”

“Would you want to keep doing it?”

The threat of losing your job still lingers in your mind. This is all new and potentially dangerous territory, and you have no idea what the future could possibly hold for either of you. But you would be the biggest idiot in the world if you lied to yourself and declined her offer.

“Yeah. I want to keep doing this with you,” you say. With a smile, Gaeul tears away the blanket and excitedly jumps into your lap, her crotch resting on your exposed erection. The thin fabric of her panties is the only thing keeping you separated from her sweet pussy.

“So does that mean you’ll be my boyfriend?” She asks, now grinding her hips against you. Your breath gets thinner as the heat of ecstasy fills up your entire body.

“Y-yes, I would love to be your boyfriend.”

Gaeul grabs your chin, her nails sinking into the flesh of your cheeks. “Yes, who?”

A moan escapes your lips as the pleasure mixes with the pain, leaving you in a state of bliss. “Yes, mistress.”

She smirks at you before taking off your shirt, revealing her perky tits and her petite waist to you. “Good boy. I can’t wait to play with you some more~”

______________________________________________________________

LESSON 4: HOW TO MAKE IT LAST

The last few weeks have been the most exciting weeks of your life. All the previous stress of working as IVE’s manager practically disappeared now that you were with Gaeul. No more wrestling with Dispatch after one of the members gets caught anymore, all she has to do is assert her dominance as the oldest and the rest of the members will listen to her. If you knew that a cheat sheet was underneath your nose this whole time, you would’ve dated her sooner.

Of course, to avoid any controversy and damage to the group, your relationship was kept a secret from everyone, including the members. However, that didn’t stop her from constantly calling you to fulfill her needs. It doesn’t matter where, when, or how many people are around, if she’s in need of release, you’re on your knees, lapping at her pussy like it’s your last meal. Gaeul is absolutely crazy, but you would be downright insane to tell your mistress “no”.

After a couple of close calls, both of you decided that it would be best to come clean to her members about your relationship. It’s already hard enough trying to keep your hands off of each other; you wouldn't want any of them to walk in on the two of you while your tongue is deep inside your girlfriend. At first, you assumed that Gaeul would simply send a quick text to the girls to alert them, but it seems like she has some other plans in mind as the two of you wait for them in one of Starship’s meeting rooms.

Gaeul moans in delight as you suck on her neck while she grinds against your leg. “Fuck, that feels good, baby,” she coos.

“Not that I’m complaining, but don’t you think it’ll be awkward if they walk in on us like this?” You ask, nipping at her ear.

“I locked the door, so they’ll have to knock before they can come in.” Of course she accounted for that. God, you fucking love her. “Now shut up and get back to sucking.”

“Yes, mistress,” you oblige, sinking your fingers into her ass as you ravage her neck. However, your playtime is cut short as a knock at the door signals the presence of the other girls.

“God dammit,” you groan. “Can we make this quick, babe? I need you so badly.”

Gaeul flashes you a mischievous smirk, giving you a soft parting kiss before climbing out of your lap. “Don’t worry, cutie, we’ll get to have some fun sooner than you think.” You ogle at her hips as she sashays over to the door, unlocking it and smiling brightly at Wonyoung, Yujin, Liz, and Rei as they file through. You try to offer a similar smile, but with the aching in your jeans, you’re barely coherent enough to breathe properly.

“I’m so glad you guys could make it!” Gaeul exclaims, locking the door behind them.

“Of course!” Yujin replies. “You said you had an important announcement, so that means it’s important to us too!”

“Couldn’t you just text us though? And why is our manager here?” Rei asks, eyeing the two of you suspiciously. You nervously avert your gaze, looking towards Gaeul for support.

“Because he’s part of this and I wanted to show you guys something in person,” Gaeul explains. She takes a quick breath before continuing. “So, I’m sure you’re all aware of how much I’ve been complaining about not having a boyfriend, and-”

“Wah! You got a boyfriend!?” Liz exclaims, connecting the dots fairly quickly. “Who is it? Is it that one rookie that was staring at you during recording last week?”

“Ew, no,” she grimaces. “It’s actually someone all of you know very well.” Gaeul suddenly climbs onto your lap, planting a delicate kiss on your cheek. Normally, you would feel pretty nervous about doing something this vulgar in front of others, but her body heat combined with your raging hormones from your interrupted makeout session makes you completely forget about everyone else. A billion people could be watching and you would still let this gorgeous beauty do anything she wants to your body.

The girls applaud at Gaeul’s announcement, except for Wonyoung, who overdramatically rolls her eyes at the news. “You called us in to tell us this? It was so obvious you two were dating, you were practically attached at the hip for the past couple weeks.”

Gaeul chuckles, eyes darkening as she captures you with her gaze. “Actually, there’s something else I wanted to show you guys too.” Much to your dismay, she gets off of you and drags a chair some distance away from you, sitting down. “You see, our manager here is actually a bit of a freak.”

The girls stifle their laughter as they glance at you, causing your cheeks to burn with embarrassment and confusion. “U-um, babe? W-what are you-”

“I could’ve acted like some ‘ditzy little fuck doll’ and let him have his way with me,” Gaeul scoffs, disdain dripping in her tone. “But then I thought ‘Why should I let him have all the fun? Our dear manager is always bossing us around, so why don’t I take charge for once?’ Granted, it was a gamble, but it paid off sooo fucking well. Don’t you agree, baby?”

Your cheeks grow redder by the second as they all look at you expectantly. “I-I mean, yeah, I-I liked it-” Suddenly, a piece of fabric hits you in the face. You examine it in your hands, your eyes growing wide with shock as you realize what it is — Gaeul’s shirt.

The rest of her members cheer at her boldness while your heart pounds against your chest, tracing her silhouette with your hungry gaze. “Crawl,” she commands.

Your eyes dart nervously between her and the rest of the girls, desire and judgment warring in your mind. “B-b-but-”

“I didn’t say you could speak,” she spits, her eyes narrowing. “Now, be a good boy and fucking crawl.”

A flip switches in your brain as desire wins the war by a landslide. Any hint of embarrassment you once held is now gone, replaced by an overwhelming amount of lust. You fall to your hands and knees, ignoring the hollering from the other girls. To you, they don’t exist anymore. All that matters is satisfying your mistress in any way you can. 

Gaeul harshly grips your hair once you reach her, forcing you to stare into her eyes. The heat from her breath hits your face, driving you mad with want. You swear a glob of drool falls from your lip at the thought of getting to taste her sweet pussy again. 

She drags her thumb over your lips, smirking. “Tell them what you are,” she orders, turning your head towards her members. Wonyoung rests her head against her palm like she’d rather be somewhere else, while Yujin starts recording you with her phone, no doubt to hold it over your head if you inconvenience her later on. Liz stares at you, deeply flustered, yet a hint of jealousy in her eyes, and you notice Rei sneakily trying to touch herself, her face beet red with pent up arousal.

“I am mistress’s plaything. I live to satisfy her and her alone, no matter where or when she asks me to,” you state. Wonyoung mouths an impressed “Oh wow” at Gaeul before glancing at you with a hint of disgust in her eyes.

Your hair is yanked back towards your girlfriend. “Mmm, it’s cute just how pathetic you fucking look. I bet you want your reward now, don’t you?” She teases the hem of her shorts with her other hand, flashing a glimpse of her panties at you. You nod enthusiastically, ignoring the pain in your scalp while you pant like a dog with desperation.

“Y-yes, please. I want you so badly, mistress. I crave the taste of your sweetness,” you beg. She smirks at you before standing up and removing her shorts, leaving just the fabric of her panties to block you from the true prize within like a wrapper on a candy bar. Hastily, you move your hands to the hem of her panties, but she quickly swats them away.

“Use your teeth, you fucking dog,” she spits.

“Yes, mistress.” As you get closer to her heat, her scent wafts through your nose, sending your mind deeper into a frenzy. You bite down onto the hem and jerk your head downwards, quickly uncovering the object of your desire hiding underneath. With her panties hanging from your teeth, you look up at her in search of her approval.

“Damn, I wish my boyfriend was that obedient…” Liz mutters under her breath.

Gaeul gently cups your chin, smiling at you with a palpable desire in her eyes. You love that look. You want her to look at you like that all the time, even if it means humiliating yourself in front of the girl group that you are paid to take care of. You are her pet, her plaything, her good boy that does anything she wants.

“Lick my pussy, baby,” she whispers, commanding yet soft. She bites her lip as she watches your face inch closer and closer to her dripping core, glistening and beautiful. You run your tongue along her slit, gratefully lapping at her juices while your hands caress her slender thighs. Gaeul grinds her hips against your face, pulling at your hair every time you make contact with her clit.

“F-fuck yes!” she moans, forgetting about the audience that she brought along. “J-just like that… Such a good boy… K-keep fucking me with that tongue, oh fuck!”

The sound of her pleasure is your favorite song, but it gets harder to hear as her thighs clamp around your ears. No matter; you’re doing this for her and not for you, after all. Double your efforts to please her, work your fingers into her hole while you flick your tongue against her clit. Don’t worry about the cramping in your tongue or the lack of oxygen in your lungs. All the pain is worth it for your mistress.

You feel her entire body contract as her orgasm overtakes, nearly collapsing on top of you in the process. You do your best to support her body, all while drinking up her nectar like it’s the first drop of rainfall during a long drought. The familiar tanginess hits your tongue, a flavor that you crave more than the fancy dinner she treated you on your first night together.

“H-holy shit…” Gaeul stutters, holding onto your shoulders for support as she catches her breath. “Get on the chair… I-I wanna ride you…”

You notice her legs are still shaking underneath her. “A-are you sur-”

“I said get on the fucking chair!”

You quickly jump to your feet and do as you're told, subtly making sure Gaeul doesn’t fall over before moving from underneath her. She silently scorns you with a furious glare for not immediately following her orders. The rest of the girls watch with bated breath, not used to this side of her.

Gaeul makes quick work of your jeans and your boxers, roughly squeezing your shaft in between her fingers. “Are you gonna keep fucking disobeying me, or are you gonna follow my instructions like a good boy?” she whispers harshly into your ear.

You squirm underneath her grasp, the pain only turning you on even more. “I-I’ll be a good boy, mistress. I s-swear.”

“U-um…” Wonyoung nervously interjects. “Isn’t this a bit much, Gaeul? He looks like he’s in pain.”

Gaeul wraps her other hand around your neck, her palm pushing against your Adam's apple. You moan against her touch, enjoying the lightheadedness. “Don’t you like this, baby? Don’t you love being a good little dog for me?” She teases, slowly stroking your cock.

“Y-yes, I love it so much. I love being my mistress’s dog,” you say, your breath shivering.

Gaeul turns back to Wonyoung. “See? He likes it,” she states simply. Wonyoung concedes and sinks into her chair, continuing to watch the sick and twisted display of affection in front of her with faint but growing interest.

With that out of the way, Gaeul turns back to you and hops into your lap, teasing your tip by dragging it along her wet slit. “Do you want this pussy, baby? Do you want to fill it with your disgusting cock?” 

“Y-yes, mistress. I want you so badly.” Your skin crawls as jolts of electricity shoot through you with each slow drag of her lips. Any ounce of sanity you had left has completely turned into mush at this point. Despite your basest desires, you know better than to thrust into her without her permission. She has you right under her thumb, and any mistake could mean getting squashed without warning.

Her grip on your neck tightens. “Beg for it, bitch.”

“P-please… I-I need it… N-need you…” you manage to choke out, writhing under her grasp. She grins at you, shoving a messy kiss on your lips as she slams her hips down onto you. She rips a moan from deep within your chest as you grant her tongue free reign over yours, earning a hum of satisfaction in response. Her velvety walls grip onto your cock, squeezing any remaining energy you had left. You’re nothing more than a glorified dildo to be used by your merciful mistress.

Gaeul suddenly breaks the kiss, slapping you across the face. Blood rushes to your cheek, now marked red by her hand.

“Gaeul…!” Yujin gasps in shock. “Th-that’s-”

“Do it again!” you plead, silencing her concern. “P-please, mistress. Hit me again.”

Your mistress bites her lip at you, intensifying the gyration of her hips while blessing your cheeks with a frenzy of slaps. You grow dizzy with pain and pleasure, higher than any drug could ever take you. 

“T-take it, you fucking dog!” she moans, continuing her assault on your face as her second orgasm rapidly approaches. You feel your own quickly following suit and tap her thigh to warn her, but Gaeul instead wraps her arms around you, showing no signs of slowing down her hips.

“I-I’m safe today, b-baby,” she whispers into your ear, much more gentle than she usually is. “Y-you can c-cum in me if you want… I f-fucking love you…”

The walls of her gorgeous pussy squeeze your shaft as she squirts onto your cock. You follow her soon after, covering her insides with your cum for the first time ever, clinging onto Gaeul’s delicate body. Your mind floats around in pure ecstasy, a feeling you never want to let go of. Gaeul lazily kisses on your neck as she recovers from her high.

“I… love you… too,” you breathlessly mutter before falling victim to exhaustion and collapsing against the chair. Gaeul climbs off of your lap and collects her discarded clothing off the ground, stumbling with each step.

“Well… that was interesting to say the least,” Yujin says after a long silence, finishing the recording on her phone.

“Send me that video later, that was really hot…” Rei whispers to her.

“Um, is he gonna be okay?” Liz asks. “I’m pretty sure we have a schedule tomorrow.”

Gaeul looks over to your now sleeping form and smiles with adoration. She kisses your reddened cheek, careful not to wake you. “He’ll be fine, I’m pretty sure,” she assures them.

Wonyoung stands up from her seat. “I’m glad you found a good… boytoy, or whatever you call him,” she says, patting Gaeul’s shoulder before leaving the meeting room. The rest of the girls follow suit, leaving Gaeul alone with you as she waits for you to wake up.

She slides a chair next to you and plants another gentle kiss on your cheek before sitting. “Good boy~” she whispers delicately, resting her head on your shoulder.

[fkinkindagauche]

Wild God

This is for day 20 of @steddie-spooktober, "cryptid" as well as @strangerthingswritersguild Kinktober prompt "worship". I fell asleep before I could finish it last night, so it is a day late on both! If you haven't listened to Nick Cave's new album, Wild God, yet, you should. The album is not actually about monsterfucking, but I like to think he really wouldn't mind the title being co-opted for that.

Summary: Mothman is in the woods of Hawkins and he's apparently a really good lay.

Rating: Explicit | WC: 2,229 | Tags: Anal Sex, Rimming, Monster Eddie Munson, Monsterfucker Steve Harrington, Blood, Biting, Unsafe Sex with Cryptids, Prehensile Tongues

Steve has become increasingly obsessed with the creature in the woods. Lucas says it's Mothman, who came to Indiana from West Virginia (“he has wings, you know”), while Dustin claims it’s just a weird sandhill crane. 

Steve doesn’t tell Dustin and Lucas what he knows, from overhearing a discussion at a party a few weeks before. He’d been pouring himself a drink in the kitchen when two girls came in, excitedly whispering to each other, not noticing Steve was there. 

“And it was so big,” one of the girls whispers. “I’ve never seen a cock that size before. It felt amazing.”

“You’re joking, right?” the other girl says, incredulous. “You didn’t actually fuck a random monster in the woods.”

“I swear, I did,” the first girl says, looking annoyed at not being believed. “Mary did, too, ask her.”

“Mary also said she fucked Justin Bieber. That’s not exactly helping your case.”

“If you don’t believe me, go try it yourself. If you spend the night out by Skull Rock, he’ll come.” She suggestively waggles her eyebrows. “In more ways than one.” 

Steve doesn’t really know why, but his interest is piqued. He asks around over the next few weeks, and finds out more. It’s apparently become a bit of a thing with the people around his age in Hawkins. The girls are calling the creature the Wild God, saying they’re going into the woods to worship, and the boys mostly seem to think the girls are all making it up to piss them off.

He talks to three separate groups of girls who tell him similar versions of the same story - they went to Skull Rock to camp, and around midnight, the creature approached, standing at the edge of the camp. He’s been described to Steve as anywhere from seven to ten feet tall, with wings, red eyes, and a huge cock. All you have to do is walk up to him and say, “I’m yours for the night,” and, if the girls are to be believed, you’ll have the best sex of your life. 

Steve, who has become increasingly bored with the girls of Hawkins, his sex life more of a slog than it is enjoyable, finds himself wondering what it would be like, to be fucked. He’s never experimented with men before, even though he has had thoughts. He especially wonders what it would be like to be fucked by a wild god. 

He makes Robin tell him everything he needs to know to spend a night in the woods, refusing to tell her why he needs to know. He goes to other sources (a sex shop in downtown Indy) to find out what he needs to know about what else he hopes will happen. He purchases varying sizes of dildos ranging from beginner to gigantic at the sex shop, and purchases a tent at a more respectable establishment. He spends a few weeks getting used to the feeling of his fingers, and then the dildos, inside of him. He likes it, almost more than he likes having his own dick buried inside someone. 

Once he’s graduated to the largest dildo, he decides to give his plan a try on one night in late October. He reaches Skull Rock around 10pm, with the moon high and full in the sky. He sets up his tent, starts a small fire, and settles in, prepared to wait as long as he needs. He can be patient. One hour passes, then two. He hears the sounds of the forest at night around him, small animals and insects going about their business, rustling and chirping. 

Just as he worries he may be about to nod off, he hears something larger moving through the undergrowth. His eyes scan the forest around him, the moon shedding plenty of light on the scene as a large shape comes into focus. It’s taller than a man, but not by too much, with the shape of unfurled wings making a shadow against the light of the moon. Steve can see two red orbs glowing in the dark - eyes. 

The creature stops about twenty feet from Steve, eyes pointed directly at him where he sits by his fire. It moves closer after a few moments, and the closer it comes to Steve, the more he can see in the light of the moon.

It’s mostly humanoid, but covered in a thin layer of fur, with large wings extending from its shoulders. The figure wears no clothes, and Steve’s eyes take in the size of the cock between its legs, which had not been exaggerated by the girls, before being drawn back up to its head, surrounded by a halo of unruly, long dark hair. 

The creature approaches closer, reaching a clawed hand out toward Steve. Steve studies its face, feeling a gentle thrum of something like recognition. Large, dark eyes, now with a distinct red tint, full lips, frizzy mane of hair, lines at the side of the mouth where dimples would be if it smiled. 

“Eddie?” Steve says, shock in his voice. It can’t be Eddie. He died five months ago.

The creature tilts his head to the side, confusion apparent on his face. The more Steve sees, the more he knows in his core that this is Eddie in front of him, changed almost beyond recognition. 

“Do you remember me?” Steve asks, as Eddie reaches out one clawed finger and strokes down his cheek.

Eddie doesn’t respond, just keeps looking at Steve, eyes hungry. Maybe he can’t even speak anymore. Steve remembers why he’s here, eyes tracking down to where Eddie’s cock rests between his legs. He would be lying to himself if he said he hadn’t been attracted to Eddie even before he got turned into a monster with a giant cock.

Steve takes a deep breath and says, “I’m yours for the night.” He wants to worship at the feet of the Wild God, especially since that god just happens to be Eddie Munson. 

Eddie makes a noise which Steve can only describe as a growl, then leans forward to press his mouth to Steve’s. Calling what ensues a kiss would be a mischaracterization. Eddie plunders Steve’s mouth, all sharp teeth and inhumanly long tongue. Steve tastes blood from where one of Eddie’s incisors has nicked his bottom lip. He moans into Eddie’s mouth as Eddie licks into him, mapping the inside of Steve’s mouth with his tongue. 

One of Eddie’s now huge arms wraps around Steve, pulling him flush against his body. Steve can feel Eddie’s cock growing hard where it’s pressed against his hip, so warm even through his jeans that Steve is worried it will burn his bare skin. He feels one of Eddie’s legs slot between his own, and starts to rut down onto it, his own cock so hard it’s almost painful. 

Eddie’s mouth moves to Steve’s neck, biting and licking, no doubt leaving ample marks which will be hard to explain to anyone who sees them. His clawed hands bunch in Steve’s sweater, pausing for a moment before tearing. Tatters of fabric fall from his body and he shivers as his skin is exposed to the cold. 

Eddie unfurls his massive wings, wrapping them around Steve, effectively blocking out the cold. It’s warm in this protected little alcove in the woods as Eddie moves his clawed hands to Steve’s jeans. 

“Wait,” Steve says, and Eddie pauses, red eyes inquisitive. “These jeans are expensive,” Steve explains, not sure Eddie understands him at all, but taking advantage of the pause to remove his jeans and boxers so they don’t also end up in tatters on the forest floor. 

As soon as he’s naked, Eddie starts to back him toward the fire, wings returning to their furled station on his back and clawed hands encircling Steve’s waist as he picks him up like Steve is a small child and not a fully grown man. He lays Steve on the ground beside the fire and blankets himself over him so Steve doesn’t even have a chance to be cold. 

Eddie starts to kiss and bite down Steve’s body, briefly nuzzling Steve’s straining cock before licking the whole length of it. His tongue is way longer than it should be, and seemingly prehensile, wrapping around Steve’s cock almost like a snake and gently stroking him. Steve moans loudly, bucking his hips up and grabbing handfuls of Eddie’s tangled, matted hair. 

Eddie moves further down, licking over Steve’s balls and grabbing his hips, pulling them up to get access to Steve’s hole. His tongue plunges easily inside of Steve, who opened himself up using his largest dildo right before setting out on this trip. The tongue presses and curls inside of him, seeking blindly until it finds that spot that makes Steve scream. 

Steve thrusts himself up into Eddie’s face, fucking himself on that absolutely earth-shattering tongue. Eddie continues to press perfectly into his prostate and Steve feels an unbearable pleasure start to build in his lower abdomen. He reaches down for his own cock and starts to stroke. It only takes two pumps before he’s coming all over his belly and chest, moaning and writhing on Eddie’s tongue.

Eddie keeps tongue-fucking him until the overstimulation becomes unbearable and Steve tugs on his hair. Eddie moves his face up, red eyes locking onto Steve's as he leans down and bites Steve’s hip, hard enough to break the skin. Steve groans and feels his cock twitching with the intense pleasure-pain of the sensation, Eddie’s tongue coming out to lick up the blood. 

Eddie moves up his body, kissing and licking and biting as he goes, until he’s face to face with Steve once again. Steve can feel Eddie’s hard cock pressing against his hip, huge and very wet. He reaches down and grabs hold, stroking. There’s an ample amount of a viscous fluid coating Eddie’s cock now, as if he can make his own lubricant. 

Eddie shudders as Steve strokes him, bending to lick into Steve’s mouth once again as Steve shifts to position the head of Eddie’s cock at his entrance. Eddie moves slowly, pressing his hips forward gently as he breaches Steve, stretching him. Eddie’s cock is about the size of the largest dildo he bought, a dildo he had been sure would be much larger than any actual cock he would ever take. 

The extensive prep that Steve did earlier, along with Eddie’s natural lubricant, are the only reasons it’s even physically possible for his body to accommodate Eddie. He sinks in slowly, giving Steve ample time to adjust, the care with which he moves belying his monstrous appearance. He pulls back to stare at Steve, gaze intense and more human than it has been this whole time, the red fading a little from his eyes as he finally bottoms out. 

Steve feels gloriously full and claimed, in a way he hadn’t anticipated. He presses a hand to his belly and he can feel where Eddie’s cock makes a palpable bulge. Inside, it presses into his prostate, and as Eddie starts to move Steve can feel his cock miraculously hardening again, almost immediately after his first orgasm.

Steve lets out a constant stream of wanton groans and pants as Eddie starts fucking into him in earnest, clawed hands braced on either side of Steve’s head as he pounds Steve into the forest floor. Steve meets each of his thrusts with his own, bucking up into Eddie as much as he’s able. 

Every brush of Eddie’s cock against his prostate builds inside of Steve until he feels like he’s going to explode. As Eddie bends his head to one of Steve’s pecs and bites down hard, Steve feels a second orgasm tear through his body, cock spurting a miniscule amount of cum onto his stomach as his whole body clenches around Eddie.

Eddie lets out a noise that can only be characterized as a roar and Steve starts to feel a warmth spreading inside himself as Eddie thrusts as deep into his ass as he can go and comes. It lasts a long time, longer than Steve ever thought an orgasm could last, and he feels excess cum dribbling out of his ass around Eddie’s cock. 

Eddie collapses against him, panting heavily, wings coming out to form a protective barrier around the two of them. Steve can feel Eddie’s cock starting to soften inside of his ass, and eventually it softens enough to slip out, a gush of cum following to coat the tops of Steve’s thighs. 

Eddie pushes himself up a little, looking down at Steve. The red of his eyes is more muted now, the color closer to the brown Steve was used to seeing. Steve reaches a hand up to cup one of Eddie’s cheeks.

“Can I come back to see you again tomorrow?” Steve asks.

“Yes,” Eddie says, voice gravelly with disuse and much deeper than it had been before. “Please.”

Steve smiles, elated at this evidence that Eddie is still in there somewhere, able to understand and respond. Then Steve remembers how he even found out about Eddie, and his face crumples into a frown.

“And stop fucking other girls. You’re my monster now,” Steve says, glaring.

“Okay, Stevie,” Eddie says, as he moves down Steve’s body to start thoroughly cleaning up the mess with his tongue.

Divider by @steddiecameraroll-graphics.

[sandsorghum]

And I sat with my anger long enough...

A Reflection on How Trauma, Rage & Grief shaped Higuruma & Nanami (Differently)

Nah, Don't be fooled - Higuruma is not Nanami 2.0, or just a rebrand of noble, stoic workaholic. I explore some of these psychological nuances below in depth.

Frequent Comparisons

People draw parallels between Nanami and Higuruma mostly commonly through their Frustrations towards the System. For Nanami, that's been both Capitalism and the Jujutsu world, and for Higuruma it's the Justice system. This results in an aura or impression of emotional detachment, but it's certainly not to be mistaken for apathy. Quite the opposite in fact! It's because both men are so propelled by their principles that they don't permit themselves the "luxury" of (excessive) emotional fervour - but there may be some distinctions with how they go about that too!

Both have been worn down throughout the years, but both also have an Inciting Incident of a significant traumatic episode. I'll explore how both the long-term slog and traumas have affected them, but first let's make a distinction about each of their inciting incidents.

Duelling Dualities

Both Nanami and Higuruma's major turning points are based around how they couldn't protect someone they cared about, namely Yuu Haibara and Keita Oe respectively. These two also represent a loss of innocence for them.

On the surface, the loss and demise of a friend during formative years (Nanami was still in his teens!) would seem to have a much more significant impact than "losing" a client or case as a working adult, plus the degrees of emotional intimacy and investment are vastly different.

Nanami has also suffered this kind of emotional gradual decay but his experiences were less high stakes, less intense and less drawn out. As a salaryman he was only enduring it for himself, and didn't have the added burden of inadequate efforts jeopardizing someone else's life or liberation.

However, his loss is more literal than the lawyer's - as far as we know Keita isn't dead, but I can't imagine his fate to be very favourable given the circumstances around his..."mistrial". (I don't know what the legal ramifications of your attorney going berserk and offing the prosecution is, but I doubt those are good odds. I wonder if Keita's fate weighs on Higuruma too, after the canon events in the manga.)

Speaking of which, having someone die in front of you for the first time is monumental, and here's where we have another distinction; the kind of Guilt Nanami and Higuruma suffer. *Survivor's versus Perpertrator's.

[*As a a caveat, I'm no expert in clinical psychology so I want to add it might not be wholly accurate to characterise Nanami's guilt as classic Survivor's Guilt, and it's hard to say to what degree he experienced this specific sort, or for how long, but I'm sure he felt a significant sense of failure at being unable to protect his friend, which later expands into frustration into being put into such a situation in the first place.]

When I said "these two also represent a loss of innocence" earlier, I wasn't referring to Keita's, but Higuruma's corruption when he kills the prosecutor and judge. We are led to believe that Keita is plausibly innocent and didn't commit the crime, and is thus morally whole - whereas there's absolutely none of that ambiguity on Higuruma's part

Higuruma's is a moral failing, compared to young Nanami's one of ability and insufficient experience, exacerbated by the jujutsu system's flaws. We don't have the details about how Nanami's ill-fated mission with Haibara unfolded, only that they expected a second grade curse but were faced with a higher level opponent, which they weren't skilled enough to take on.

Nanami might be able to "offset" some of his guilt at being unable to save Haibara by blaming broader forces beyond him, or his circumstances of being too young and not being better prepared - although I don't think this is his nature to rely on that sort of naiveté reasoning and he carries that grief with him anyway (any iteration of survivor's guilt can be quite immune to logic.)

But for Higuruma, that burden of his ethical lapse rests entirely on his shoulders.

Higuruma fails in a way that feels or can be deemed to be much more personal; even as his actions are also similarly compounded by an unfair system but at the end of the day, he still killed with his own two hands.

There's no rationalising around such a crime of passion. There's no abstracting it out to the tolls and pressures the system takes, even if they are critical factors. The system is broken, and breaks him, and for a while Higuruma would rather blame and contend with its flaws rather than his own.

A man strung up by his own high ethical standards, what is he to do?

Conceits Revealed Through Self-Deceit

In times of severe emotional crisis, it's common for people to avoid the truth of what they really feel and/or want, because it's saddled with a lot of pain. As mentioned above, there's a specific kind of grief that festers with Higuruma's guilt which isn't present with Nanami's.

Higuruma snaps and he has to pick up the shards of his world view, we actually get a pretty coherent albeit funhouse mirror version of his moral reasonings but to be clear, this is less confrontation and more qualifiers to deal with the fact that he's now a murderer.

It manifests as a cynicism-fueled delusion where he attempts to argue, or rather persuade himself the killings were just or justified, not only that but that Culling Game killings could be an equally valid if alternative recourse for justice - his own Domain is a reflection of a courtroom turned theater, satirizing the legal process. A show trial in other words. 1ichtbringer has an excellent analysis that further unpacks how his Deadly Sentencing technique falsely stages a trial so that it appears to be impartial, and points out how Higuruma tampers with the process too. Highly recommend reading it to understand how beautifully deranged Higu's processing is, despite dressing it up in the rhetoric of logic (omg he's a delulu is the solulu girlie just like us!1!!)

Higuruma attempts to assuage his guilt by disregarding the justice system (and to an extent, the moral parameters) he has worked within his entire life, by harping on its limitations and flaws which are all fairly valid, but doesn't negate the fact that he's a criminal now

Furthermore, he is confronted by the contradiction between his and Yuji's killings, and the way each contextualizes their culpability couldn't be more stark. Yuji immediately confesses and doesn't try to rationalise or make any excuses. Higuruma on the other hand contorts his heart and head through several hoops so he doesn't have to feel such guilt - until he does.

From Higuruma's perspective, Yuji wasn't culpable for the Shibuya slaughter. Even as Yuji feels responsible, he is still innocent because he was acting under the influence of someone else's will - unlike Higuruma who carried out his executions with his own volition and more self-awareness. Quite simply, being blinded by rage doesn't hold up in court as a reason. Emotional states and pressures can be considered during sentencing but I doubt they would be much of a mitigating factor. Unfortunately for Higuruma it's difficult or impossible to defend his violent outburst of emotion since his framework of ethics and justice is premised so much on logic, which makes the nature of his moral lapse even more tragic and a particularly effective example of Gege writing dramatic irony.

And now, let's discuss the fiction Nanami Kento sells himself on.

When we get Nanami's flashback in Ch30, we're lead to believe he's the kind of guy who has never worried about "the meaning of life or his purpose on earth". Oddly enough, I think there is an element of truth to this for Nanami - Having faced an existential threat at such a tender age probably puts one off contending with such existential conundrums.

But then shortly after we get these panels:

This echoes one of Marx's central critiques of Capitalism, where workers are separated from both meaning and the means of production. Technically, Nanami's job scope - presumably as some type of wealth/hedgefund manager (or heaven forbid a stockbroker) - doesn't even have a traditionally tangible means of production, which only further reinforces the lack of importance of who he is as an individual and the sense of alienation, a pretty common phenomenon under Capitalism where workers feel psychologically and probably emotionally estranged from their work. Oh, the routine malaise!

[I fall back in love with him again each time i see the tear wiping part]

I don't think people have such profound insights or realisations if they haven't considered at length these broader philosophical questions regarding their priorities in life - but what I've always found pretty sexy was the simplicity of the scenario that gave Nanami this insight; an epiphany under ordinary, understated circumstances that he set his mind to without further equivocation. (And yes, I said it, it's sexy)

Who knows to what extent Nanami believed in his obsession about money for those four years; was his sole goal really just to retire young and migrate somewhere cheap? We know he still harboured dreams of moving to Malaysia; perhaps he could have afforded to by the time he was in his 30s, but there is also something within him that compels him to earn that retirement, not in an economic sense but rather in a way that addresses the question of what makes him feel like he'd deserved it. In short, how he earns a living in a way that aligns with and finances living a good life, does matter to Nanami. And by good we reference not just quality but morality too of course. The way things are done, the minutiae and attitude towards process matters very much to Nanami, not just the end goal.

I think that might be another way he differs a little from Higuruma, who could be a tad more impatient and results-oriented or focused, hence he'd be willing to take more risks (personal), bend rules and take advantage of loopholes - these tendencies all dovetail with his background navigating an already unfair legal system.

So, now that I've laid out the "lies" Nanami and Higuruma temporarily let themselves buy into, let's unpack what it indicates about their personalities. Gege often puts his (ill-fated?) idealists through their paces and what these pretences or obfuscations suggest about each man is fascinating and endearing to me in different ways!

The justification of his murder of two civilians is the central fib Higuruma tries to believe, but it's a delusion underpinned by disillusionment and years of constantly engaging with the incontrovertible ugliness and darkness of human nature encountered in his profession. That's how he spends his early adulthood.

Nanami, almost on the opposite end, doesn't want to acknowledge, let alone face such suffering and darkness for years - we might call it wilful or deliberate ignorance, or it may even have been a more subconscious choice. Either way, the avoidance stems from the tragedy of his personal history.

One man believes in his self-deception because he has faced the truth for too long, the other pursued a false priority because he has been attempting to avoid the agony and brutal realities of his calling.

When I think about the nature of their jobs, there also seems to be differences in the emotional and psychological tolls they're dealt. Being a sorceror has less overlap with social work and to my mind, has more parallels with law enforcement with missions revolving around investigation, surveillance, nullification of threats and broadly, maintaining a status quo and security for civilians. Most curses are abstract entities birthed from an amorphous mass of negative energy, there is an erasure of sentience, or at least a greatly reduced need to account for it, since they're already monsters meant to be eliminated in the most straightforward sense. A more sensitive take would be that these mutated souls must be put out of their misery. As for most curse users, fortunately or unfortunately, there's little opportunity, let alone necessity to understand their humanity (apart from Geto, more on him later.)

Compared to a criminal lawyer who has to deal with and get to know (probably not the nicest) individuals over several months, handling their suspicions and doubts, cultivating the trust and human relationships; that takes a lot! No wonder Higuruma gets worn out.

"I have never been and never will be frustrated by my own uselessness." -Nanami Kento

Our bodies have something called a Sympathetic Nervous System and biology predicates its sensitivities and capacities for emotional duress; this also influences how much of others' sorrows we can take on before we become fatigued. Every individual is born with a different endurance. Higuruma and Nanami likely have very high tolerances, but everyone has their limits.

This part is pretty speculative but I think how these two men empathise is different as well; Higuruma definitely uses intellectual empathy primarily, while Nanami experiences emotional empathy slightly more often. He has genuine care and concern for his colleagues, and relationships with them - they may not appear to be exceptionally close ones but they are important to him. Just remember what happened to ponytail guy after he injured Ijichi.

Higuruma on the other hand may not have had the opportunity to cultivate such personal connections with those he works with, either by circumstance, choice or a hybrid of the two. I think he cares about people in a more abstract sense, as representations of his duties, rather than actual individuals whose emotional interiority he must grasp. Perhaps it's out of necessity or an instinct for self-preservation that he maintains this sort of distance. This isn't to say he's callous, just that the way he relates with those in his occupation is more analytical.

Where they are alike is that both probably know it's unsustainable to operate from a baseline of righteous fury or indignation in their jobs. Going off his occasional outbursts, Nanami does seem to have more of that undercurrent but I don't think he's suppressing his anger daily or at least, he has some way of coping with it long term so it doesn't reach a critical mass, whereas Higuruma, if he had any awareness of his encroaching cynicism, probably couldn't afford the time and headspace to process his emotions properly.

Corroding Cynicism, Corroborating Hope

Initially, I had a difficult time understanding a particular line in Higuruma's monologue in Ch166, the version I read translated it as:

"I thought I should value that very depravity, which other animals don't have!"

I realised this line has a resonance with another ardent idealist, Geto, who observes this hideousness in "monkeys" as a trait he abhors, unlike Higuruma who cherishes it and believes it's the thing that sets us apart from other beasts.

It was only after contrasting this pair of idealists' motivations that I could comprehend Higuruma's breakdown.

Unlike Geto, Higuruma's raison d'être (before he gets a taste for homicide) isn't in achieving grand ambitions, he's not trying to permanently overturn a system but would rather manoeuvre within one. It's not so much revolution as it is mitigation (via litigation, hah). He is determined and convinced he can do this despite the odds he's given.

The issue with this granular type of change of course is that it's just as likely to erode their agents, through "the accumulation of little despairs". Not so little in Higuruma's case of course, since even his hard won interventions are significant as they determine the fate of people's freedoms.

What initially confounded me about Higuruma's breaking point and his tirade about how "the darkness before your eyes is just darkness" is that it didn't seem to challenge or contradict the reality he knew about before he snapped, that people can be awful.

Weakness and ugliness will always exist in humans, but I don't think Higuruma anticipated or believed such weakness was embedded in the legal system to such an extent. He's finally made aware of it with Keita's case, and I think that's when he decides the system isn't simply flawed but fundamentally corrupt and that he can no longer make any further progress within it, that his struggle isn't worth it.

The inherent fallibility of humans remain a fact. However, there's a distinction between universal and personal truths; the former often informs the latter, but what really matters for how we act are those individual, internalised truths. Higuruma's most fundamental truth is:

He's someone who operates from his principles, regardless of results or odds - it's why he fights losing battles, it's why he goes up against Sukuna. But for a moment, he's blinded by disappointment and anger and forgets that this is his ultimate north star.

Nanami goes through a lot less to remember his conscience, and I partially attribute that to surviving something as terrible as he does at an early age. Closure might be a bit ambitious, but I'd like to believe how he handled and addressed the loss of Haibara was to honour him by returning to the jujutsu world and looking out for other young sorcerors in his own way, guiding those like Ino and Yuji.

The sense of accountability and empathy he indirectly instills in Yuji is something Higuruma picks up on later, and it gives him some semblance of hope that there are other people like Yuji trying to do the right thing, those worth protecting and supporting, and keeping his eyes open for.

Conclusions

One last thing I want to compare between Nanami and Higuruma is how they approached the talents they were born with. Nanami has his Ratio technique, and Higuruma is intellectually gifted though later we understand his true inherent genius lies in his jujutsu abilities.

In a way it's inevitable for our destinies to be shaped by our capabilities, but I think it's interesting that Nanami tried to deny this innate rare skill as a sorceror and find something else he could do. If he wanted to lead a fulfilling life helping others, say as an educator or firefighter or paramedic (swoon) I don't doubt he could have, but he chose the path not many people are cut out for, returning to it not because it was pre-determined or cause he'd excel in the area, but because he knew he could guarantee doing it well in the moral sense.

Higuruma strikes me as another individual who'd be impressively competent at almost anything he sets his mind to. But the thing he's best at, given the circumstances he discovered them in, are skills he's now obligated to use in service of jujutsu HQ's higher ups. Higuruma wouldn't go so far as to reject using his natural powers and skills as a sorceror because of the unpleasant association of their origins, but he might struggle with how best to use these new tools, instead of being used. There may be another period of apparent futility he'll have to contend with.

I don't think Higuruma's faith is restored in the justice system by the time the manga concludes, and he'll have a hell of a time navigating the jujutsu one too, however he's more suited to being a sorceror as it would let him act more freely, in accordance with his own assessments, in ways that strike a better balance between his own moral code and jujutsu society's law,; something that he might even be able to shape in the wake of the Culling Games and a paradigm shift for Japan, now it's been forced to reckon with this whole other world.

(Gambatte, Higuruma!)

[notchedwhip]

☥ World of Darkness Meetcute Event ☥

Art by @belthegore, who owns Gabriel. The writing and Belmont can be blamed on @bonecraftprodigy. This was posted on a co-admined sideblog.

Belmont just wants to get through the workweek without his new coworker finding out he's a vampire. But he's not the only one hiding something.

Content warnings: canon-typical violence, brief Christian fanaticism

Nick, night manager at Quik'N'Go Gas, waited in cheerful ambush at the store’s timeclock. “Hey, Kevin, say hi to the new hire!”

Kevin Belmont typed the remaining digits of his employee number with slow. Emphatic. Jabs. Of his forefinger. Deep breathing, he reminded himself. Just like that YouTube video said. In-two-three, out-two-three.

As a vampire, breathing exercises didn’t usually work well for him.

“You said I could trade shifts with Andrew to handle that family business and we both confirmed with you that’s what we were doing. So if I’ve got no call/no shows on my record, it's not my fault, and making me train my own replacement–”

Nick had the decency to look genuinely appalled. “God, no, Gabriel here is replacing Andrew ‘cause Andrew’s the one racking up no call/no shows. Show him how to clock in and open a register, would you? I set up his PIN already.”

Belmont pictured all the tension and anger draining down, down, through his body, down to his feet, dissipating into the floor. When that didn’t help either, he moved on to visualizing a training bonus on his next paystub. Something reasonable - fifty cents an hour? Ooh, maybe seventy-five….

Nick cleared his throat.

“Uh, right. Sorry, third shift sleeping problems. I’ll be fine once the RedBull kicks in.” He finally turned to face the men and size up this Gabriel person. The kid matched his height, give or take an inch. Long face, bad haircut, a scar carved from hairline to jaw. He stared back at Belmont with sullen tension. Well, that was fine. Belmont didn’t plan on getting too friendly either.

He showed Gabriel the nightly cleaning checklist, the supply closet with its broken door lock, how to wiggle the register drawer loose if it jammed. The kid didn’t make small talk and Belmont heard his teeth grinding when they paused beneath a buzzing fluorescent light.

“My old boss hated those things too,” he said, pointing at it. “Almost as much as he hated scented candles and admitting he screwed up. Do you smoke?”

Gabriel nodded.

“So do I. Take your smoke breaks whenever you want, as long as we aren’t busy and it isn’t midnight or three AM. That’s when I take mine and I’ve got seniority.” Belmont watched for any reaction.

The kid nodded again.

“Any other questions? …And you have worked a register job before, right?”

“None right now, and yes, I have.”

“Cool. Once you’re logged in, I’m gonna go restock the coolers. It takes forever even if you know where all the inventory is so you get to stay up front tonight.” That was tonight’s real gift, Belmont decided: someone else to park at the register so he didn’t have to deal with every kine who waltzed in smelling like dinner.

Five nights later Gabe and Belmont still hadn’t said a word to each other that wasn’t directly work-related. The kid kept his mouth shut and head down, although his eyes rarely left Belmont’s back when they were alone.

It made Belmont’s fangs itch. He watched Gabe right back, tracking him out the corner of his eye when Nick wasn’t busybodying around.

Six nights later, Belmont slogged back from his break to an old man a head taller and half again as broad as either of them getting in Gabe’s face about– rising chocolate prices, or something equally stupid. The poor kid was backed against a shelf clutching a pricing gun like it was his only salvation, his whole body so tightly wound that fight or flight would be equally disastrous.

Wuss, sneered Belmont’s nasty little inner thoughts.

Be nice. Poor kid’s about to crap himself, said his second thoughts.

Should probably do something before Nick checks the camera feeds and calls the cops, his common sense pointed out.

“Hey,” Belmont snapped, jogging closer. “Hey, he’s new, let me see if I can–”

The man wheeled around, face red and hand raised, the moment Belmont touched his shoulder. Everything in the vampire’s mind screamed FIGHT. Vitae surged through dead veins. Fangs pricked, threatening to emerge. Cold black malice crystalised the air.

Belmont caught the man’s fist before it was halfway to connecting with his face. Very quiet, very deliberate, he said: “You should leave. Don’t argue,” he added, slowly squeezing his grip tighter. “Just go.”

The man left.

Gabe stared bug-eyed at him. Belmont shrugged away the lingering Presence. “Sorry about that. You want to take your ten now? Clear your head?”

“You don’t look like someone who could do that,” Gabe blurted out, still staring.

Aw, fuck. “I used to do full-contact combat LARP stuff, live action roleplay? Once someone dressed like a dollar store Uruk-hai clobbers you often enough, you figure out how to stop getting hit. Had to quit when I left college but I guess the reflexes are still there, heh.”

“I see.” Gabriel’s tone indicated that he did not.

“The Uruk-hai are a kind of orc,” Belmont offered. “From The Lord of the Rings?”

“Oh.” Gabe faintly shrugged. “I was told that book had witchcraft in it, so I never had a chance to read it.” He turned a dial on the price gun and resumed applying stickers to bags of chocolate-covered pretzels.

“Oh,” Belmont said, because he couldn’t think of anything else.

On the seventh night everything went wrong.

Gabe always let Belmont empty the big outdoor trash bins, which he was in the middle of doing when some jackass with a lifted truck parked at pump 5 decided the guy who pulled up to pump 6 dinged his paint. Six Guy matched Five Guy’s volume while denying the allegations. Five Guy got up in Six Guy’s face. Six Guy stood on tiptoe like a bantam rooster ready to throw hands. Wings? Whatever roosters fought with.

Belmont called over to them, “Hey, sorry, yeah, if you’re going to fight can you do it about twenty-five yards away so it’s not on Quik’N’Go property?”

“Fuck off,” came the response from Six.

“I really do not care if you kill each other as long as you do it somewhere that won’t make me fill out an incident log.”

Six chose to punch Five in the nose. Five retaliated in kind.

Belmont’s teeth ground together so hard the enamel squeaked. He set down the roll of garbage bags. He stalked closer. He warned them, “Break it up. Now.”

They did not break it up.

Well, Belmont decided, they asked for it.

He wrenched them apart by their shirt collars. Five threw himself at Six anyway, fabric tearing free. Belmont dropped Six and shoulder-rammed Five. Old reflexes flared along with his vitae. He snarled in the man’s face, fangs bared, eyes bloodshot. Five went rigid and printer paper white with fear.

Good. He should be afraid. Fucking kine. Belmont wheeled around to tackle Six who was crabcrawling away, also terrified. He pulled a fist back for a bone-cracking fight-ending blow–

“Kevin!” Gabriel yelled, barrelling out the door.

Belmont’s blood flashfroze like a cold Pepsi slammed on a table. Fuck. Oh, goddammit shitfuck. He’d blown it. He’d have to vanish, move cities again, start all over from nothing a-fucking-gin….

He let Gabriel yank him off Six and drag him back inside the store. Mental alarms didn’t start ringing until he realized they were headed for the giant beer cooler in the back. The one with no view of the front windows. And only one security camera because the store owner was too cheap to rework the system.

Uh oh.

“Hey, can we just talk about–”

Gabe shoved him against a wall of Bud Light 36-packs. “Devil. Demon! Unclean thing, tainting the earth wherever your poisoned blood takes you! Our paths were meant to cross so I could save those mortal lives from you,” he spat the final word, “Vampire.”

Belmont kept his hands raised. “Gabriel. Gabriel, you’re not wrong about that, but we need to know how much time we have here. Did you call the cops?”

“‘We’? Your time, stolen from others, is reaching its final moments. You may make your peace now.” Gabriel fumbled a boxcutter out of his back pocket.

“Gabe, respectfully, fuck that.” Belmont grabbed Gabriel’s wrist and yanked. The boxcutter clattered to the floor as they switched places. The kid’s skin was cool under Belmont’s fingers. “Listen. You’re obviously not from one of the organizations, and if my old boss sent you he did a really shit job choosing a hunter to–” He frowned, adjusted his grip to feel for a pulse.

There wasn’t one.

“You’re shitting me. You’re fucking shitting me. You too? Since when?!”

“The whole time, you blind beast!”

“Oh, my god.” Belmont adjusted his glasses with one hand, keeping a squirming Gabriel scruffed with the other. “Okay. Look. I know we probably have about thirty seconds left before the cops show up and bust both our covers, but since this might be the last teachable moment we get, maybe don’t try to kill the Brujah with twenty years of Sabbat experience using a utility knife.”

“I don’t bring my rifle to work,” he snapped, clawing at Belmont’s arm.

“That might work. What is it, a deer gun? AR-15? –Never mind. Christ, this is just my fucking luck.”

“Stop taking the Lord’s name in vain!”

“If I stop, will you tell me what sect you’re with? I’m guessing Anarch.”

Confusion flickered in Gabriel’s zealous eyes, just for a moment.

“...Do you know what the Sabbat is? Camarilla?”

“Vampires are vampires,” hissed Gabe. “All of you will burn in Damnation where you belong.”

“Fucking hell. Your sire ditched you or something, I bet. Okay. Look.” Belmont weighed his directions of conversational attack. “I really don’t want to kill you. I screwed up, I get it. But those two guys are still alive because you stopped me, and now that we know a little about each other I can help you save more people. Twenty years in this rodeo, remember? I know things. Hell, by Sabbat standards I was basically a career academic. The clans, tricks of the blood, legends about where we came from - I’ll teach you. But we have to get through tonight first, okay?”

Gabriel scrutinized him as if deciding whether or not to feed his heart to a crocodile. “Every night that you want to live, you’ll tell me something that will help purge your kind.”

“Our kind, but okay. You got a deal.” Belmont kicked the boxcutter out of reach and released the other Cainite. “So what are we telling the cops?”

“I didn’t call them,” Gabe mumbled. “I was going to kill you, lock the store, and leave.”

“And I think one of those guys pissed himself, so with any luck he’ll be too embarrassed to file a complaint. Well, Gabe, here’s to the start of a beautiful hostageship.”

[reginalusus]

Your art is so beautiful. I check back every day to see if you posted more! When I read BWMD you mention the throne room in the mansion a lot. I’d love to learn more about that and maybe see what it’s used for in your stories.

I know it’s tough to post your art for everyone. You’re so brave and you have a lot more than 6 two-dads fans!! Maybe I’m #7.

Aweee, thank you, that's so kind. <3 I'm glad you enjoy those silly men.

Oh yes, the throne atrium is the final room in Harvey's mansion that you enter in Arkham Knight. Here's what it looks like (it's hard to describe in words without it being a slog, so I only highlighted the prime details like the stairwells, the sheer size of the room, the throne itself etc.):

It's an area I love, so boom, Harvey has it.

In canon, Harvey seems to only have this room as a set piece and for him to lounge around in.

However, in my verse at least, he uses it for not only that, but for courtroom-esque events (mostly with his victims/targets), announcements for his men, and the very rare gathering.

Harvey's office is also located behind the statue, in a separate room, so that's why Jason and Harvey are commonly going back and forth through here in the story.

It might be a cute one-shot to have a stoned Jason pose like Leon Kennedy on the throne while Harvey's trying to do business with some pleading, blabbering victim.

The Defendant: *Screaming, in tears, pleading for mercy and that he Did Not Do The Thing that Harvey knows he did but fair trials and all that.*

Jason in the back:

[forthegothicheroine]

Rat Phantom

Rat Phantom. Those of us who know of Dario Argento's Phantom of the Opera, mostly PotO completionists, know it as Rat Phantom. The movie where deformity-free Julian Sands puts rats down his pants.

I want a documentary- nay, a miniseries or a podcast season- on how the hell this got made. Sands refused to do classic Phantom makeup, and I'm actually not opposed to a version of the character whose problem is purely mental, but whose idea was it for him to be raised by, strongly identify with, and sexually desire rats? Did Dario go to see Batman Returns and come out wishing the penguins who raised Oswald Cobblepot in the sewers had been a different animal instead? Was he flailing around for something gross to do once Sands wouldn't do the makeup? The fact that the camera leers so much on Dario's daughter Asia Argento's breasts barely even registers as uncomfortable when paired with everything else.

Raoul and the Phantom both have long, greasy hair. When Christine laments that she loves both men, we must assume she has very specific tastes.

In what other Phantom movie has the true villain been the Ratcatcher? In what other film has the Phantom fantasized about a giant rat trap with people in it?

I'm not a Phantom purist the way I can sometimes be with Dracula, so none of these changes upset me. If anything, they fascinated me. In the hands of an unknown, first time director, this would be outsider art. In the hands of Dario Argento, it leaves me baffled. I can at least give it this- I do sense passion and care. It's not the halfhearted slog that Dracula 3D was. Oh, Dracula turns into a giant preying mantis? Boring. Wake me up when the plot is rewritten to be about him self-identifying as a rat.

I recall a youtuber saying that if Argento had just called his film Opera, wherein a singer is tormented by an obsessed killer, "Phantom of the Opera" instead, we probably wouldn't have argued with him. I think that's true. He called this movie Phantom of the Opera, though, and whether you're a fan of the book or the musical or none of it, you'll come out wanting to argue with him. Maybe this, too, is art.

[luthanraels-bignaturals]

Malving Attic Wife AU

part one/?

John gets back from the Artic traumatized beyond the capacity of functioning in victorian society

His stab wounds are mostly healed, but the damage to his lungs and throat make eating and breathing difficult + the ptsd

Malcolm is with John for the duration of his recovery, barely leaving his bedside for his own needs. Getting grey hairs with every passing day

He learns about the entire ordeal from other navy men recovering in the hospital- how cold the nights and days were, the endless slog across the island, how the hunger felt unending, the magical polar bear(?), and all the other miseries John has apparently endured for the last few years

So even before Jirving wakes up, Malcolm has no doubt in his mind: he needs to keep John safe from the outside world for the rest of his life

After John wakes up, and is in good enough health to travel, Malcolm wraps him up in as many blankets as money can buy and carries him away to Burnfoot

He does not tell John that it’s going to be his home for the rest of his life, let him rest his head :)

Eventually John gets to the point where he isn’t bedridden and doesn’t need supervision for everything (but elphie still insists)

At first it’s under the radar, keeping John just late enough that it really makes more sense for him to stay. Insisting that it isn’t a worry, the guest bedroom’s already made anyways. But if John has any nightmares or feels lonely in the guest room, he’s more than welcome to join Will in his bed :)

What’s a little cuddle and a kiss on the forehead between bros?

Then John starts to get a bit more insistent about leaving. He really should get back on his feet and find his path after the expedition. See if the Admiralty has taken him out of the service

And the moment William hears that John is possibly planning on returning to the navy, he drops all pretense and tells John that he can’t leave

He gently pushes John into the lovely bedroom (recently outfitted to lock from the outside). John tries to fight back a little, but years of malnutrition don’t help

John has a meltdown as he realizes what’s going on. He’s so confused man. Deep down, he does just want to be sheltered and loved, but he knows he’s supposed to want to provide for himself and prove to the world that he has recovered and is now a proper english gentleman

Malcolm sometimes cries when he hears John crying, and sometimes he gets angry. He’s supposed to be happy, he just doesn’t know what’s good for him :(

One night John’s planning on leaving in the dead of the night, William catches on to his plan and drags him to bed. Holding him there until he goes asleep (and if he doesn’t

Malcolm has some crazy ass logic about why it’s morally good to keep his best friend locked up in his estate forever

”So I know that you belong in the domestic sphere, because you’re pretty much as close as you can get to being a woman while also being a man. And society just can’t see that you’re delicate. But also as a hysterical woman I just can’t trust you to know what’s best for you. I mean I let you stray away from me for a few years and you almost died in the artic.”

TL;DR: “John doesn’t know what he needs”

So yeah, when Malcolm goes to work everyday, he makes sure that every door and window is locked tight

Johns daily activities are now relegated to quiet tasks he can do in the calm of the parlor. Where he has a 0% chance of befalling any harm

Because he’s still got a lot of the same issues he left England he really likes doing household chores so he isn’t ‘being lazy deadweight’

William has mixed feelings cause on one hand he wants John to laze away in a sunbeam on a soft quilt all day, but also John’s pretty much his wife at this point and he fits the role like a glove

I definitely want to write more about this idea, but this post is already way longer than I though it would be lol. if anyone else likes the idea, please blab with me in the replies/reblogs/asks. I’m not reeeeally planning on writing a fic of this (I do not know how to write) but who knows lol. I just want to get Jirving barefoot and pregnant

[pjisskullourful]

𝙁𝘼𝙑𝙊𝙐𝙍𝙄𝙏𝙀 𝙂𝙊𝘿

😈 Ethan × reader

18+ readers only!!!🔥 sex demon does explicit shit, a lot of explicit shit

° Ethan Torchio/female reader insert

wordcount:::: 13,519

° impeccably requested by an anon: anxious/gloomy/perpetually stressed (a med student? Stem girlie?) y/n is too busy to date and isn’t very experienced for the same reason but one day something happens and the fomo hits—her sadness, pessimism, unexplored potential is so powerful she accidentally manifests incubus!ethan ° got your own request in mind? send it here! but for more control& priority status hit me up for a commission

° lyrics stolen from cobrah

° [ITA:] cazzo: fuck

getting stronger, going harder than your favourite God ...

It was another Saturday night of sitting alone in your apartment because you had been too tired from the week to make plans. The slog of med school continued, taking up all of your time while you felt like you were no closer to leaving the student phase of your life.

Your friends had invited you to go out with them. But as much as they sang the praises of their favourite nightclub, you knew that you wouldn’t really enjoy your time at The Den. You just didn’t get clubs. You had yet to figure out where the fun was supposed to be derived from. It had only ever been an overwhelming and overpriced experience for you.

But when Amandine began texting you from the club, you did feel that little sting of regret. With nothing to do but stare at the screen of your phone, you worried what you were missing out on. You felt less secure in your decision to stay home.

if i find a guy thats your type can i give him your number? Amandine’s words appeared on your screen.

Maybe on another night you would have laughed at this strange question. But right now you were just feeling down. How do you know my type? I don’t even know my type.

But Amandine didn’t let you shake her from this unexpected goal. i’ve been shopping with you so much, i know your tastes.

Your best friend of so many years, you knew that she didn’t mean you any harm. She wanted only the best for you.

Get their Insta handles for me and I’ll judge for myself, you replied.

This didn’t threaten your sense of safety too much. You could keep yourself in your comfort zone, not treading the uncharted territory of romance unless you really wanted to.

always judging, she said back. if you’re not careful you’re gonna judge your whole life away.

You just stared at these words, completely lost on how to respond. There was no way for you to defend yourself against what was essentially the truth.

You were the least experienced of all of your friends. You were the odd one out when it came to conversations about relationships, sex or men.

You shut down any pitying sentiment by stating that you were waiting for the right guy. Some days you felt extremely patient, or you forgot about the wait.

But on other days, your insecurities would be louder, more distracting. You wondered why you weren’t following the same timeline as everyone around you. Was it because there was something wrong with you, and the perfect man had seen it and already decided to avoid you? You worried about staying a virgin for a very long time because you didn’t know how to change it, which prompted more waiting.

Your thoughts and views of yourself didn’t improve as the night wore on. Amandine started to send you usernames of the ‘talent’ she found for you amongst the crowd.

But you couldn’t see yourself with any of these men. The first one had an aesthetic combination that you couldn’t find appealing - the length of his hair, his style of glasses and facial hair reminded you of someone you had gone on a few painfully awkward dates with. The next guy looked like a fuckboy. The next one had photos of himself holding different fish he had caught. The next guy’s Instagram featured photos of him only dressed in tailored suits, with extensive captions, as if the photos were prompts for essays.

You felt nothing when you looked at these men. Maybe it would be different if you were standing in front of them. Maybe then you would be able to feel the sparks that you had been waiting for, that hadn’t been present on any of the dates you had been taken on.

You were feeling bitter as you typed a lie to your friend. You told her to give her matchmaking skills a rest because you were going to sleep. You claimed that you had an early morning shift tomorrow at the café where you worked.

You thought you knew what she was thinking about you right now, it was something she had shared with you in the past - you didn’t know what you wanted, but your standards were way too high. You were aware that you were more likely to tell your friends what you didn’t find attractive, than talk about what you did like. You couldn’t pin down exactly what your type was, only what it wasn’t.

You turned the volume of your phone off and placed it face down, not wanting to give it another second of attention. You switched off the bedside lamp and began getting comfortable in your bed.

For a while you didn’t think that you would be able to fall asleep, not when your mind was racing. You still felt bitter, making a very long list of all of the things that you were missing out on. Then you began to rank these items based on how much of your life you were likely to spend continuing to not have them.

Then you got stuck on a specific idea of how nice it would be to have the comfort of cuddling with a man right now. You had never fallen asleep in someone’s arms before. You wondered how it would feel.

You were certain that you didn’t want to do it with any of the men Amandine had deemed to be your type tonight.

But who would you want to do it with, who were your options? You wanted someone who looked like Heath Ledger, but specifically how he had looked in 10 Things I Hate About You, with long and dark hair. Or someone who looked like Johnny Depp, but only from the early ‘90’s. Or someone like Jason Momoa, but not when he was doing that tough guy angry face.

You realised you were falling asleep when you lost track of thoughts, or they just stopped making any sense. Your mind couldn’t clearly give you an image to soothe you. It was all a muddle of ideas, your emotions still running with more power than usual. But you were already drifting off, unable to do anything beyond observe these feelings.

Loneliness.

Lust.

Frustration.

Uncertainty.

Desire.

Pessimism.

*** *** ***

The first thing that your bleary eyes saw were numbers in red - 3.33. Damn, it was way too early for you to be awake.

You were so displeased by the time, focused on this and not noticing what was wrong with what you were seeing. It took a few seconds before you realised it: the numbers on your digital clock were usually green.

This made you flinch before you raised your head, starting to fully (begrudgingly) wake up. You felt disorientated, much more than usual. There was something different about this bedroom you had been inhabiting for the past three years.

Then you realised why you had stirred in the first place: someone was knocking on the front door. Even though you were hearing it with your own ears, the insistent rhythm didn’t seem real to you.

You sat up, forcing yourself to grapple with your apparent reality. You took another look at your clock, seeking greater clarity. The numbers were back to their green hue, but they still read that ridiculous hour of three in the morning.

You had no idea of who could be at your door. There were no earlier arrangements that had slipped your mind. Nor were there any past instances that you could assume this to be a repeat of.

But the person seemed determined - surely this would only come from being in the right place at the right time.

You swung your legs out of the bed. You tried to ignore the fear that was like a little pit in your gut, because it was just over-dramatics.

Valentina or Amandine or one of your sisters was pulling a surprise on you. Someone that you knew had caught you off-guard by organising a delivery from Uber Eats - your brain produced this as a solution and you found it to be logical. You also liked it because it wasn’t threatening. You attached yourself to this theory as you walked towards the front door, the fear a little easier to write off.

There were six quick knocks, then a pause would follow before another burst of six knocks came. Your movements felt automatic as you willed yourself to not put too much thought into this scenario.

You reached the door and heard six more knocks. Before you could get freaked out, you turned the knob and opened the door, the security chain stopping it only a few inches from the frame. You looked out, the light behind you illuminating the doorstep.

You didn’t see anything in the hands of this stranger. It was just some guy, lacking any kind of context. But you didn’t just shut the door again, you let him make eye-contact with you as your heart positively rushed.

He addressed you by your name, not struggling over the pronunciation for even a second and you didn’t hesitate to nod. “Can I come in?”

You started to complete the action of unlocking your door without thought, against your better judgement. Once you realised what you were doing, you were horrified and you wanted to stop. But you couldn’t make yourself stop. It was as if you were watching the actions of someone on TV, so disconnected. This brought the fear into the forefront, combined with confusion.

Once the door was fully opened, he very calmly walked into your home. He wasn’t trying to intimidate you - he didn’t rush at you or brandish any weapons.

But you thought about how close you were to the kitchen. The sharpened cooking knives were the key to defending yourself against an attack.

“You can close that, there's nobody with me.” He said and you were following through with his instruction before he had properly finished speaking.

The action happened without you realising, it was as if someone else was in control. It made you feel cold inside, but you couldn't make yourself act any differently.

You were wide-eyed staring at this man, trying to gather all of the information that was available to you. He looked to be about the same age as you, no lines on his face, which was made up of strong angles. He was clean and well put-together, dressed only in black. He didn't quite look real to you, from the intricate lace on his undershirt to the perfectly swept back long hair - it all looked too good, it didn't fit with the ordinary surroundings of your home, your reality. He carried nothing with him, he was just some guy in a leather jacket.

“Who are you?” You asked, your insides trembling as you stood opposite the broad-shouldered stranger.

“You can call me Ethan.” He said. There was nothing threatening in his tone and his accent was typical to your ears.

“Because that's your name?” You asked.

“One of them. It's the only one you need to worry about.” He said.

You were pleased to find that you could speak more - you still had some control. “But who are you? What are you doing here?”

“You summoned me.” He said simply. He was so secure and confident, certain that he was right.

“I- uh- I didn't…” You said. You watched for his reaction, hoping you weren't about to unknowingly provoke him. “I don't know who told you to come here or why. But I didn't ask you to come, oh at all. I was literally just sleeping in my bed and- uh, sorry you came all this way, but…”

“Did you manifest something?” He asked. “Maybe as you were falling asleep, just as you were slipping from one state to the other?”

“Manifestation isn't real.” You stated.

His calm demeanour didn't falter. He walked closer to you, and your gut clenched as the rest of your body froze.

He reached out and grabbed you just above the elbow, where your skin was bare. He laid his fingers on you then pinched. The twinge of discomfort was strong and immediate, making you gasp, flinching away a little.

Thankfully he didn't pinch you for long, releasing his hold and a small smile began on his lips. “That felt pretty real, huh?”

“I don’t understand.” You said.

You didn't know how to feel, it was all just adrenaline keeping you upright and alert. Were you in flight or fight?

“Yeah, they always send me to the clueless ones.” He said, backing off a couple of steps. He was still close enough that he could grab you and you didn’t doubt that he could physically overpower you. But it didn’t seem like that was about to happen.

“Could you help me to be, uh, less clueless?” You asked.

“Let’s sit down, hm? There’s really no point standing around here when you’re not about to show me the door.” He said.

He didn’t wait for approval or guidance from you, just turning and leaving from this area. He left the entryway, wandering into your lounge room and you instantly followed after him. He looked like a regular visitor to your home, there was something so natural about the way he just sat down on your couch, seeming to get comfortable at once.

“What’s next, I offer you a fuckin’ drink?” You asked, trying to make a joke to cover your unease.

“Such a good hostess. Water is fine for me, sweetie.” He said.

You turned your back on him, giving him another shred of your trust. You went into the kitchen and your first action wasn’t to go for the knife block. Instead you got a glass from the cupboard and filled it with water, him calling you sweetie rang in your ears as you did so. You didn’t get anything for yourself, you couldn’t tell if you were thirsty or not.

You walked back into the living room and his dark eyes were on you immediately. His stare was so intense that it gave you a rush of heat in the depths of your gut. You had never experienced something like this before.

“Thanks.” He said. “Sit with me.”

You did it, sitting on the same couch as him. He turned to fully face you, more of that strong stare - what was he looking for?

“How did I summon you?” You asked.

“Great question.” He said. “And a great opportunity for me to find out just how sceptical you are. There’s boundaries that separate one realm from another…” You furrowed your brow. “And when you’re falling asleep those boundaries get less solid- imagine curtains and how they move and sway, things can slip through because it isn’t firm, it isn’t air-tight.

“And what slipped through was your manifesting. You weren’t tied down by reality, neither were your desires. You wished bigger than you would have if you thought for a second that anyone would hear. But desperate wishes like that- it’s what my kind are always listening for, we’re obsessed with it.

“Your wishing, or manifesting, or whatever you want to call it, slipped through to a more powerful, more mystical realm: mine.” He said. “Does that explain how you summoned me?”

It was like you had happened upon a puzzle. Several of the pieces were in place, connections formed, but the majority were scattered about in an unhelpful mess. And there wasn’t a reference image for you to know what you were working toward. But this stranger knew what the picture was supposed to be.

“Kinda. If I just put my scepticism to the side, I guess I can sort of understand what you’re trying to say.” You said.

“Good girl.” He said with an encouraging smile.

If you dropped the want to label everything as crazy, then you could proceed forward. “You said something about your kind- um, what kind is that?”

“I’m an incubus.” He said, looking amused now.

You couldn’t keep yourself from laughing, the nerves making it more high-pitched than you were used to hearing from yourself. “Alright, now I know that you’re in the wrong place, whoever told you to come here is lying to you. I didn’t summon you- why would a fuckin’ virgin summon a sex demon? You’re in the wrong house with the wrong girl, I hate to break it to you.”

You were embarrassed after saying that, silent as you sucked on the inside of your lower lip. You didn’t know why you had said it. Your absence of sexual partners wasn’t anything this stranger needed to know, but you had almost eagerly given him the information.

He didn’t have much reaction, taking a sip of water. He didn’t agree that he was in the wrong house, making no moves to get up and head for the door.

“Would you like me to act surprised that you’re a virgin?” He asked and you started to avoid his eyes, which seemed to see too much. “Because that’s what people usually do, right? They simply cannot believe it, and I see how it could catch them off-guard.

“But I already knew. You would have to work hard to surprise an incubus.” He said. “I’m in the right place, that’s why I know so much about you, darling.

“So you know a little about incubus? Enough that you didn’t need to ask for clarification.” He said.

“I’ve heard of them, I don’t know if I believe they’re real. But I’ve seen, um, stuff online.” You said.

He curiously tilted his head to the side. “Stuff?”

“Porn.” You said before you slapped a hand over your lips, your eyes growing wide. Your embarrassment skyrocketed more, you were physically uncomfortable and there was a blush in your cheeks hotter than you had ever felt before.

“It’s okay. In fact, I would say that’s a pretty common way for the word incubus to get on someone’s radar.” He said.

You gradually lowered your hand, speaking in a very small voice. “I don’t know why I said that.”

He gave your knee a pat, which felt a little condescending. “Don’t worry too much about it, baby. It’s just because I’m compelling you, it makes you more agreeable.”

“Are you controlling my mind?” You asked.

“Yes and no. The thoughts that you’re having are still your own, I can’t mess with that. It’s your actions that I’m having a kind of influence over. They must have covered this incubus talent in those very educational videos you watched.” He said teasingly, and your cheeks continued to flame. “Are you still unsure if me and my kind are real?”

You stared down at your hands, a noticeable shake in both of them. “I guess it’s- in a really weird way, it’s the most logical explanation.”

“Now you’re getting it, just go with it.” He said. “Do you know what incubus do?”

“I don’t know, you have kinky sex with people.” You said.

“We make deals. Being from a different realm and all, I can give you things that you would never be able to get for yourself. I could grant a wish for you.” He said.

You lifted your eyes slightly, getting a little closer to looking at his pleasing face again. “A wish?”

“Yeah. Well, within some limitations. I can do more than you, but I can’t do everything.” He said. “But I’ll tell you if your wish is possible or not before we do anything, darling.”

You looked up, finding the courage to meet his eye. And when you did, you began to smile for a reason that you couldn’t name. You didn’t mind how intimidated you felt, you supposed you were getting used to it.

“Do you like it when I call you that?” He asked.

You licked your lips. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Yeah, it gives you a sense of comfort, right? One that you didn’t know you needed.” He said.

He moved his hand slowly, giving you ample time to tell him to stop. But you didn’t want to, you were content to watch him place his hand on your knee, then keep it there.

“Do you wanna have kinky sex with me?” You asked.

“Very much.” He said without hesitation. “It is literally the whole reason why I’m here. Do you want to have kinky sex with me?”

You hesitated, getting overwhelmed by the possibilities. It was more than just stepping into uncharted territory. It was having to walk into uncharted territory wearing 10-inch high heels with absolutely no practice beforehand.

“I- I’m not still a virgin because of some plan, seeking virtue or anything. I don’t like the thought that I’m gonna meet someone who is so turned off by it and I don’t like feeling like my friends are pitying me every time it’s brought up.” You said, continuing this streak of sharing so much with him.

“We could so easily get rid of that label forever.” He said. “And I know that you don’t want to lose it to someone who’s going to treat you, your body and your pussy like it’s all made of glass.”

“No, I don’t. I don’t want someone who is gonna be so gentle and boring, you know? It should be significant, not basic and just missionary where I don’t learn anything.”

“You would learn so much from me, darling.” He said, easing his hand up and onto your thigh.

You swallowed. “I only want to kiss you ‘cause you're in my mind telling me that's what I wanna do.”

“No, I told you I'm not changing your thoughts.” He said. “I'm in your head to tell you that you can kiss me. But don't get ahead of yourself. I'm here to make a deal, you have to tell me what you want first.” 

“My wish?”

“Yes, and please don't bore me by asking for good grades. Make it something that's worth me coming all this way.” He said.

“Um… so I'll just say it and you'll tell me if you can, like, do it?” You asked.

“Mm-hmm.”

“Could you promise me success? I don't need you to give me my dream job right now, I just don't want all this hard work and shit to be for nothing.” You said, more shy to say this than some of the other exposing comments you had made to him. “I need to know that I'm not doing all this for nothing, I want to end up someplace where I'm fulfilled and-... Is that too vague, or…?”

“No, it's perfect and I can do that. I can put that into the universe for you and make sure that you get to where you wanna go, not toiling away at something beneath you.” He said. “But you have to give me your body, just for tonight, that's all I need to make your wish come true.” His hand was up quite high on your thigh now. “And if you think about it, we're taking care of two wishes: ensuring your success in the medical field and getting rid of that troublesome virginity.

“But it’s up to you, darling.” He said.

You were glad when there was a pause after this. You didn’t see yourself going through any automatic movements. It wasn’t like before where you didn’t feel the control over your body. Now you knew that you weren’t watching someone on television, this was conscious consent.

And you made the conscious effort to share it with him. There was still so much of this puzzle unsolved. The only thing you knew for sure was that this devastatingly handsome man wanted to sleep with you and holding onto that kept you from getting distracted by everything else.

You leaned forward, more of that intoxicating adrenaline fuelling you as you aimed to cross the distance between him and you. He watched you getting closer and it was so nice to know that you weren’t about to be rejected.

Your eyes went down to his lips and you weren’t thinking of the other people you had kissed before this. This would be the most significant kiss of your life.

Your eyes fluttered shut and your mouth met his. He was so warm and so firm as he instantly kissed you back. He rested each of his hands on your face and you moved closer.

You were invigorated, your heart pounding as you felt more-and-more of his body heat. You laid your open palm on his chest, feeling his hot skin through the thin, pretty material of his shirt. He tilted his head slightly and your bottom lip slipped in between both of his. As his fingers caressed your cheeks, you started to feel his tongue on your lip.

The desire was beginning to pool between your thighs, you were so aware of it. You wanted to explore everything that went with it.

He barely broke the kiss to speak. “Good girl, good fucking girl.” He kept kissing you as he wrapped a strong arm around your middle and started to ease you closer. You went with this, feeling like you could melt in his embrace. As you felt more hints of his tongue, you knew you had made the right choice - you felt ready and excited.

“Do you want me to grant your wish?” He asked.

Amongst the flurry of kisses you almost didn’t want to answer, you just wanted to experience more of his mouth. You kept close, his breath still on your face as you spoke. “Yes, please yes.”

“Are you going to do whatever I say to get it?” He asked.

“Yes, yes I will.” You said, you had never felt so willing in your whole life, with very little to hold you back.

“You’re getting this needy tone in your voice that is just so sexy.” He said, his fingertips still savouring the texture and heat of your cheek. “You aren’t like the other people I meet who just want this…” His other hand had slipped under your shirt, rubbing at the small of your back. “You need it.”

“I really do, Ethan.” You said, surprising yourself with how you could just leave shame behind.

“You don’t want anyone to be too gentle, which is fucking perfect. I’m not gonna be, you and me are gonna find every one of your limits and that’s gonna be so much fun.” He said, making you smile. “But I am gonna ease you into it, we won’t start with the most intense and feral stuff.”

You looked at the face of this stranger, not seeing anything that brought you fear, you just kept feeling more intrigued. “What are we going to start with?”

“You’re gonna show me what you can do with that mouth, show me that you’re worth being my fuck doll.” He said. “You’ve got to earn the favour of my powers. Take your clothes off, you won’t need them going forward.”

You felt a lack of confidence as you began to remove your clothes, showing him more than anyone had seen before. Maybe he thought it would help to make things more even, taking off his leather jacket. You weren’t sure if you felt less uncomfortable, but looking at his impressive arms did distract you from your insecurities. As you pushed down your pants, he reached down to take off his boots. But he didn’t make any moves to remove his shirt or pants, meanwhile you were taking your panties down.

“Be a good girl now and kneel right here.” He said, pointing to a spot on the ground in front of where he sat on the couch.

You knew the tiles were going to be cold and hard on your bare knees. But you made the move anyway. Your need to prove yourself to him dulled your other thoughts down, your perceptions not quite the same as usual. He changed how he was sitting, placing both of his feet on the floor, but leaving enough room between his legs for you to fit. You placed yourself here as he started to unbuckle his belt.

“You don’t have to be nervous, darling.” He said, opening the fly of his jeans.

Your eyes were wide, with no prior experience to guide you, all that you could think to do was stare at him. This wild encounter kept unfolding and you were as daunted as you were intrigued.

“I know you’ve never sucked a cock before, so you’re gonna start with my balls.” He said, reaching a hand into his underwear. “You’re gonna worship them, put them in your mouth, cover them with so many kisses. Then when you’ve proven that you can please me, then you’ll get my cock.”

Your mouth dropped open when his cock was out and directly in front of your face. The stiff length was bigger than the toy you kept in your nightstand. You imagined that it would be quick to overwhelm you.

“Um…” Your stomach was twisting and you wondered if your excitement had given you a false sense of your capabilities. “That’s, like, really fuckin’ big.”

“I’ll teach you how to take it.” He said. He held the shaft close to the base, while his other hand played with your hair, smoothing it at a soothing tempo. It was hard for you to know where to put your eyes - did you meet his, or were you supposed to be looking at this intimidating boner?

“Don’t forget that it isn’t your starting point. My balls are first.” He said and he changed how he held it, lifting the length so that less of his balls were hidden. “You can handle those for me, can’t you? Surely you can, in exchange for the future that you want.”

You licked your lips and began to lean in, thinking about things you had seen in dirty movies. You could remember the hunger you had felt when watching those types of videos, the curiosity so strong it felt like it could burn you. You looked at the textured skin as it got closer to your face. It was easier to not think about his shaft when you wondered what his balls would taste like.

You started with a kiss, feeling the heat on your lips at once. Then you applied another kiss and another, exploring across his scrotum slowly. More of his rich, primal scent filled your nostrils.

“Tell me, have you ever called someone Daddy before?” He asked as he put his hand to the top of your head.

You looked up at him, finding him watching you very carefully. “Only as a joke.”

His fingers were no longer just lying on your head, now they had found a hold. “That’s what you’re going to call me, but neither of us will be joking.”

“Yes, Daddy.” You replied, very eager to say it and find out how it felt. It was instantly kinky and you liked how it felt.

It seemed that he liked it too, showing you a smile that made your heart flutter. Then you felt him directing your head forward again, back into his crotch. You didn’t resist, a little less intimidated than before as you wondered if you could get more than a smile from him. The word daddy floated around in your mind and you hesitated less between kisses, your lips spending more time on his skin.

Then you started to open your mouth, pushing your tongue forward to drag along him. He gripped your head harder than before and you liked the pressure. He hummed happily and you shut your eyes, one lick promptly following another.

“Don’t be afraid to put them in your mouth.” He invited.

You pushed your face closer to his scrotum and changed how you were holding your mouth. You wrapped your lips around his sac, bringing it to rest on your tongue.

It didn’t take you long to adjust, so you soon started to move your tongue. You massaged it against what filled your mouth.

“Oh yeah, you like those balls in your mouth, don’t you dirty girl?” He said.

You didn’t want to take him out of your mouth to speak. So you tried to find a different way to agree with him. You drew your cheeks in, starting to suck. You kept working your tongue and you could feel yourself getting into a groove. You could handle this.

“Keep worshipping those fuckin’ balls.” He said.

You were starting to gain confidence - maybe you could be good at sex. The sense of accomplishment pushed you onwards and you kept rubbing your tongue on his skin, lapping keenly. He was shifting in his seat and every once in a while you felt him give his cock a single, lethargic stroke.

“I think I’m gonna make you into a great fuck doll.” He said.

Why was that your instant favourite compliment you had ever received? It made your heart do a little somersault and it prompted you to mentally notice how wet your pussy felt. It was the most erotic thing you had ever heard, affecting you so deeply.

“You’re making my balls feel so fuckin’ good. Do you feel how heavy they’re getting?” He paused to groan and your thighs tensed, your own anticipation growing. “That’s all my cum and you’re gonna get all of it. It’s gonna be a lot, you’re making my balls ache with need.���

You sucked your cheeks in a little harder and he jerked your head closer. Your nose was brought flush to his skin and he held you there, with less breathing room. You saw how easy it would be to lose yourself in his pleasure as all of your senses were dominated by him. But it was exciting as you waited for his next reaction, something you couldn’t predict.

“Okay, let’s see if you can treat the shaft just as well.” He said, pulling and moving your head away.

Your mouth was emptied and you started to open your eyes. At first your eyes went to his very close tip. Then you looked up at his face, your breath remaining short.

He curled up some strands of your hair in his fist and you didn’t dare to move. “Thank me, thank me for the privilege of getting to worship my balls, baby.”

“Thank you for the privilege of worshipping your balls, Ethan.” You said, getting all of the dirty words out and feeling like you meant them.

“You liked it, didn’t you?” He asked and you were quick to nod your head. “It’s fun making me feel good, hm? You’re gonna have fun sucking my cock too, I know it. You only think that you can’t do it. But you just have to start. So how about you start? Go ahead and give the tip a kiss, hm?”

You looked down at his cock, feeling how much you were shaking. You tried to hold onto your accomplishment of successfully playing with his scrotum - if you could do that, maybe you could do this?

He held it steady and you leaned in. The skin here already shone with a bit of moisture. You kept your lips together and your eyes open.

This skin was firmer and hotter. He gripped your hair and you cautiously gave it another kiss, then another. As your heart raced, you looked up at him and he was watching you with great interest. The rising and falling of his chest seemed to be coming in quicker.

“You look good like this.” He said and you started to linger longer between kisses, growing more familiar with how his tip felt. “And I get to see it before any man.” 

“That’s right, savour it just like you were savouring Daddy’s balls.” He said and the soothing tone in his voice helped you get comfortable. “Wrap your cute lips around the tip.”

You parted your lips, drawing the crown of his cock between them in slow and sensual kisses.

Then you contributed your tongue, sliding it in an upward motion. You saw the expression on his handsome face not change, he didn’t seem unhappy with what you were doing. And so you licked him more-and-more, the taste of his skin so intimate.

“Now suck it.” He said at the same time as he eased your head forward. “Suck it like it’s the sweetest lollipop in the world.”

About an inch of his erection moved into your mouth and you kept your mouth set around him. You relaxed your tongue beneath him and started to suck, as if you were using a girthy straw. His eyelids fluttered as he let out a shaky exhale and you felt more of that motivating pride.

“Mm-hmm, I told you you could do it.” He said and you felt him guiding your head forward again. “Don’t forget this, I am always right.”

You had started to squeeze your thighs together as you continuously got more invested in his passion.

He let you feel the firmness of his grip on your head. “Come on baby, you can take more. Your mouth isn’t a virgin anymore.”

You moved with him, completely willing to remain in his control, wanting to see what would happen next. Your curiosities and interests came before any of your current needs, they were easily overpowered.

He fit more of his shaft into your mouth, the tip pushing against the roof of your mouth. Until he readjusted so that it was pointing towards your throat’s opening. You braced yourself with your hands on his thighs as you felt your heart beating harder.

Even though your mouth was getting closer to being full, you still felt like you could manage it. You shut your eyes as you concentrated on sucking, attracting no corrections from him.

Before too long, he was jerking your head further forward again. You were surprised when your lips bumped into the hand that held his shaft steady at the base. You forgot about keeping your breathing regular momentarily.

He didn’t let you adjust to this depth. You worried that you had done something wrong as he dragged your head away. But he didn’t let his cock slide free, pulling you forward before your lips could reach his tip. He repeated this motion, guiding your mouth back-and-forth on his length.

“That’s how you make Daddy feel fuckin’ good.” He said.

Both of his hands went to the top of your head as he set into a tempo of how your lips should continue to work him up-and-down. You tried to settle into this motion, your tongue rubbing consistently on his underside.

You had never felt truly used like this before and you didn’t want to recoil from it in the slightest. Your cunt was reacting to the explicit noises that he was making. You enjoyed how straight-forward everything was and you were pleased that it seemed you were rising to meet the challenge.

“Honey, that mouth is really great. You’re off to a promising start, yes you are.” He said, different tones brought out in his voice.

The rushing adrenaline made your sense of accomplishment all the more significant and it was an addictive feeling. With no room in your head for other thoughts, there was nothing to slow down your enjoyment. You could feel moisture on your thighs as you kept them clenched together.

His fingers clenched, gathering up sections of your hair. “No more easing, you’re gonna make me come now.”

He started to direct your head faster and you felt a mild pulling on your scalp. This new tempo was relentless, there were no breaks to compose yourself and you could feel wetness spilling over your lower lip.

Even more spit spread down your chin when he struck his hips up, driving the tip into your throat. You were too surprised to keep yourself from sputtering.

Your breathing caught, and there was no gaining it back, not even when he eased off from your throat, the momentum taking him to a shallower point.

But just as quickly, he was bringing your mouth down again, filling it up without hesitation.

“You’re my dirty girl now. And that’s exactly how you’re gonna take this.” He said.

He was pulling on your hair, bringing a stinging sensation now. And it didn’t seem that he was on the verge of stopping.

It had become a legitimate effort to keep up with him now, and you weren’t sure that you were doing the best job of it. But at the very least you were keeping him in your mouth. As your lungs burnt, you understood that this was a skill, which you would need to develop.

Currently, his determination seemed to make up for your inexperience. It was all good enough to keep his dick stiff as his vigour continued.

He threw his head back for a loud moan the next time his tip pushed into your throat. “Fuck, yes. Oh fuck. I’m not going to come in your mouth. No, you’re going to wear the first load you’ve ever earned.” He stroked himself back before your head was brought down just as fast. “So when I pull out, keep your eyes shut.”

That didn’t happen straight away, instead he kept up the tempo. Your ears began to ring as his movements remained just as persistent.

Then suddenly he was dragged entirely out of your mouth, which stayed hanging open. Before you could fully register this change, you were feeling something wet hit your face. You flinched and squeezed your eyes shut even tighter. It was unlike anything you had felt before: the pronounced droplets and streaks were so hot.

He took his hands off of your head one at a time, panting out your name. You felt another rope of his cum shoot onto your left cheek, making the coverage more even.

“There you go.” He said. “You can open your eyes now.”

You did this slowly, gasping for air as reality crept back in. You settled your eyes on him as you felt some of the thick liquid give in to gravity, sliding down your skin.

He looked pleased, there weren’t any lines on his face to indicate annoyance. Maybe he was on the verge of smiling as he relaxed back on your sofa. His cock was noticeably softening, no longer demanding your attention.

He put his fingers under your chin, guiding your head back. “You’re going to thank me again, thank me for this unparalleled privilege. But you’re going to thank my cock.”

You licked your lips, tasting him even more strongly. You lowered your eyes to his shaft as you remained short on breath. “Thank you, thank you for the absolute privilege of getting covered in your cum.”

“Mm, you’re welcome, darling. I knew you had great potential.” He said. “I’m glad you like giving me pleasure, it’s so very obvious that you’re enjoying this. That’s good, that’s sexy. But just like I can tell that, I can also tell that you aren’t totally in this yet. You can call it fear or insecurities, whatever it is, something in here is holding you back…”

He tapped his finger on the centre of your forehead and you furrowed your brow. But he was speaking again before you had the chance to disagree.

“I can’t fuck you until I’ve broken you out of your mind further.” He said.

Now you didn’t know how to disagree with him because you weren’t sure what he meant. You silently watched him sit back, anxiety trickling in.

His attention left you, going to where he had laid his leather jacket out. He started to look through the pockets and you remained at his feet, unwilling to get up without instruction.

He produced one bundle of red rope, then a second. This got your interest and curiosity.

But you started to question everything you were seeing as he pulled out a long, metal rod. It was taller than him, there was no way it could have been hidden until now. It had a small, grippy-style foot at one end and he put this on the floor, resting the pole against the couch. Once he was content that it wasn’t going to fall, he went back to the jacket and soon another rod was appearing.

“Wait, wait, how are you doing that?” You asked.

This new pole looked like it was the same length as the first as he pulled it free. He glanced at you then back at the object. “Oh, right. My jacket is what you might call magic, in that I can pull almost anything out of the pockets.

“Almost anything.” He said as he rested the pole with its twin. Then he picked up the jacket and brought it even closer for you to see. But you were just as confused because it appeared to be nothing but limp leather. “I can’t get something living from it, so don’t think about asking for a bunny. I also can’t use it to produce something as big as a house or a car.

“But within those limitations, there’s a lot I can do.” He said, his hand going into the average-sized pocket and you saw the top of another rod. “It’s a little incubus trick that always keeps things easy for me.”

You watched as he pulled out more-and-more, still not fully believing your eyes. “Could I get anything from it?”

“Nope, they would work as regular pockets for you, my pretty little thing. It only works for demons, so it would do you no good to steal it for yourself.” He said in a casual tone as he got the end of this third rod free.

“I wasn’t even thinking of… what are those?” You asked.

“I’m gonna make a temporary frame.” He said as he stood up. His first action was to take down his pants and briefs, freeing his legs entirely. Then he stepped out of your personal space and started to gather up these rods. “You’re gonna learn a little something about shibari, specifically suspension shibari.”

Images you had seen online were brought to the forefront of your mind as you heard the pronunciation of this word for the first time.

You watched as he started the assembly. Towards the top of each rod was a small divot, a spot for one to securely attach to another. They fitted together with some clicks, forming the top of a triangle.

He got the apparatus standing upright, it was tall enough for him to stand under. He made adjustments to how the rubber-padded ends rested on the ground, they looked like they were evenly spaced out.

The tripod didn’t waver or wobble. You accepted what was seemingly your only option and gave him more of your trust that you weren’t about to be injured.

He collected up the rope and got to work with that. It would have been easy for you to get distracted by his nudity, your eyes moving away from the rope every so often. You tried to only look at his cock when he seemed distracted enough to not notice and your thoughts rushed with every glance.

He secured the rope around the tops of the rods with some knots, the tail of this rope freely hanging down. It remained unattached to anything because when he picked up the second bundle of rope, his attention went to you.

He beckoned for you to stand up and you hurried to do so, facing him. There was something about having your exposed body this close to him that kept you from fully catching your breath.

The rope wasn’t rough against your bare skin as he started to wind it around you, just beneath your bust. He created a band by wrapping it around you four times, tight without letting it dig into you.

This was affixed with a knot behind your back. Then he progressed to making a second band, this one going over your navel. He stood behind you as he tied more knots into the rope.

There was some length left over, which he allowed to dangle, brushing against the backs of your thighs.

He returned to the enchanted leather jacket and you saw more rope come from the pocket. He unwound this bundle as he looked you up-and-down - planning rather than judging.

“Kneel.” He said and you quickly lowered yourself down, returning your unprotected knees to the cold tiles. Even though his cock was now directly in front of your face, you endeavoured to not get caught up in just staring at it. You lifted your eyes, meeting his gaze.

“Raise your arms above your head, yep.” He said, stepping to place himself behind you. “Now reach down like you’re trying to grab the back of your neck, but on opposite sides.”

You bent your elbows and crossed one wrist over the other at the back of your head. He was completely out of your sight as he started to tie your wrists together.

To keep you from changing the position of your arms, he created a new bind. He looped the rope from your wrist to your bicep, then copied it on the other arm. He ensured its preservation by tying more firm knots. The restriction made you feel vulnerable, but that wasn’t a negative experience.

Once this was complete, he walked around to stand in front of you again. He studied you, a serious look on his face. “Any pain, pretty little thing?”

“No, it’s fine.” You said.

“Great, then I’ll keep going.” He said before lowering himself down to sit on the ground in front of you. He tapped your right leg. “Extend this leg out.”

Your centre of gravity felt off, but you managed to make this shift without falling. Then he was on you with a new length of rope, wrapping it around your thigh this time.

He created a couple of bands, then extended the end of the rope back and behind you. He moved, leaving your sight as he kneeled behind you. You tried to picture what he was doing as there was a slight tug on the rope that wrapped around your thigh. The length remained tense and soon he was attaching it to the main knot resting on your back.

“Very nice.” He said, his voice just as smooth, but less warm than before. “Stand for me.”

“Um…” 

As you placed your right foot firmly on the ground, you were already imagining yourself falling over. You pictured dark red droplets on the tiles after your nose smacked into it.

You lifted your ass and leaned your body weight forward, allowing you to move your left leg now. You got this foot set on the ground too and started to push yourself up. Cautiously, you kept your knees bent.

He watched instead of offering his assistance and you feared that you were about to be chided for taking too long. As you straightened your back, you found the rope on your thigh pulling. You brought some give to the rope by lifting your right foot from the ground, letting it hover as you found this less uncomfortable.

“How is that? Are you feeling like a helpless little bug stuck in a spiders’ web yet?” He asked.

“That’s a very appropriate way to put it, yes.” You said.

He came closer, smirking as he stood in front of you. “But that isn’t a bad thing, is it? I actually think that you don’t mind it at all.”

You tried your best to maintain steady eye contact, even as you couldn’t help swaying a little. “You’re right.”

He placed his fingers under your chin as he got closer again, his eyes briefly going down to your mouth. “Because you want to surrender to me, don’t you, dirty girl?”

Your breath was coming in much faster and you were practically counting down the seconds until he next kissed you. “Yes, I do.”

Your eyes fluttered shut and the powerful anticipation prompted you to part your lips. You were able to stop thinking about the strain in your limbs. Even when he took his hand away from you, you remained locked in your hopes.

“Over here now.”

When you opened your eyes, it was to find him standing next to the super-sized tripod. You had to twist and change your posture to walk over to him. And even then, it was more of a strange shamble across the floor.

“Stand in the centre.” He instructed.

You made more of your awkward shuffles until you were standing under the apparatus. He joined you, placing himself behind you. He was doing something to the rope harness around your chest, making adjustments that shifted it about, without compromising any of its security. He was silent as he completed his task.

Without any warning, you felt the binds tense and pull upwards. Your feet left the ground, getting higher-and-higher to the sounds of his little grunts of effort. Your stomach twisted as another aspect of bodily control was taken from you. It was thrilling (and intimidating) to see your feet dangling a few inches above the floor, all the while knowing you could do nothing to get down.

Then your right leg was yanked even higher as he pulled at the rope attached to your thigh again. Your thigh was pulled away from the other and kept like this as he kept the rope taut. He tied it to something new, the line that hung directly from the apparatus. You bent your knee, trying to settle into this unusual position. He got it all secured and then he took a few steps back, surveying his handiwork.

“Sweet girl…” He said, wandering back into your field of vision. “This suits you so much better than the whole studious virgin thing you had going on.”

Some strands of his dark hair had come loose from the bun, now framing his face. His eyes moved so thoroughly over your body as a small smile pulled at his cheek.

He nodded to himself and stepped away, going back to the couch. You watched as he picked his jacket up again, going for the magical pocket.

You were rushing with adrenaline and partially you started to think of all of the things that could go wrong - the amount of ways you could be injured wasn't getting any smaller.

When he turned around again, you saw that he held a leather paddle in his hand. “Are you ready for Daddy to break you out of your mind?”

You gulped audibly. “Yes. Yes, please.”

He walked over, letting you feel the paddle by rubbing it against your raised thigh. There was no sharpness at first. You stared back as he fixed his eyes on yours. Again, you wondered about mind control.

You lost the competition, your eyes snapping shut when he slapped the paddle onto your pubic mound. It was like a little explosion of heat - the kind of heat that felt alive because of the tingles it brought with it. As your breath caught, you tried to determine if you had enjoyed the sensation.

“Ooh, is that so sensitive? Is that just so needy, swelling with blood and getting so wet?” He asked, holding the firm toy against your pussy. “Hm, is it, honey?”

You forced your eyes open as he tapped it on your labia. “Yea- yes, I don’t think I’ve ever been this needy before in my life.”

He slapped the toy against your thigh, making you wince. “And yet, I’m going to make you even needier.”

“Thank you.”

He gave your other thigh a hit before walking around, going beyond your view again. “Now, when I first showed this to you, you probably assumed I would use it to spank your ass, hm?” You jerkily nodded your head and your answer was met with him striking your ass. “That’s what most people would do if given this…”

A series of spanks was inflicted upon each cheek, bringing a glow to your ass. It hurt more every time, keeping you paying attention to only this.

“But I’m not most people.” He said, stepping in front of you. “And I know that the fun of spanking doesn’t have to be limited to ass.”

Your eyes grew wide as he flicked the paddle up. Your body shook and your thoughts were fragmented as you tried to guess where he would hit you next.

When he whacked it against your breast, the sensation ripped right through you. Your stiff nipple hurt the most, the pain much sharper here. But it stung everywhere that the toy had hit.

This skin was still prickling when he took the paddle away, swatting your other tit. You gasped, keenly aware of the feeling of your nerves fraying.

Each of your nipples throbbed as he kept spanking, alternating from one breast to the other. There was a fire in his eyes and he didn’t appear to tire - just as impassioned each time.

Before you could reach that point where it was too much, he stopped. You were left reeling, your mind blank.

“Do you like that?” He asked.

You were gasping for air, it couldn’t be denied that you were feeling invigorated. There was a lot to enjoy about the adrenaline dominating your system. “Yes, Daddy.”

“I don’t know why I asked. I can see by this ridiculously wet pussy that you’re liking it.” He said.

You squirmed but there wasn’t any way to cover yourself. You simply had to remain exposed to him.

“I didn’t forget about it and how needy it is.” He said, putting a hand to your pussy. You wordlessly whined when you felt him push your folds back. “I’ll give it all of the attention it needs…” He slowly laid the toy against your skin. “And then some more after that.”

He struck you, the paddle hitting directly on your exposed clitoris. It was a complete shock and your heart did a somersault, then launched into your throat. You were reminded of the intensity of orgasms in that split second.

You flinched, little squeaks falling from your mouth when he repeatedly tapped it against this spot. The pleasure was fast, you knew if it were more sustained it would entirely blow your mind.

He switched back to using the toy to spank you, using a decent amount of strength each time. There wasn’t enough time between strikes for you to recover, so you remained trapped in this state of hyper-awareness and hyper-sensitivity. You weren’t forming any complete thoughts, your mind preoccupied by these grand, continuous reactions.

“Fuck.” You burst out, feeling like you could feel your heartbeat in your clitoral hood after the most recent slap.

And it wasn’t the last. You were getting intoxicated on this combination of pleasure and pain. One accelerated the other, their power never failing.

When he eased the paddle away, you continued to feel its effects. A strong heat radiating out from your cunt. It twitched and throbbed through what felt like aftershocks.

“That’s better than me just tapping this thing on your ass, hm?” He asked.

“Fuck yes, it is.” You said.

He snapped his fingers and you lifted your head a little. “Look at me now, baby.”

Amongst all of the rushing sensations, you tried to give your concentration to him. “Yes, Ethan.”

He gave you a long look. “It’s starting to look pretty empty behind those eyes.”

“Yes, Ethan.” You replied.

He continued to study your eyes, confirming something to himself. “No thoughts, no fears, no questions, no worries, no insecurities, just pleasure.”

“Am I broken out of my mind yet?” You asked.

“You tell me.”

“I…” You felt the lack of inhibitions, the lack of shame and you started nodding. “Yes Ethan, I think I am.”

“I think I agree. But there's one way to get to the truth, a taste test.” He said and your throat tightened.

He began to get lower, lining himself up with your pussy. You were holding your breath as you watched him, preemptively feeling the pleasure of what was to come next.

He maintained that intense eye contact with you as he opened his mouth. He moved closer and you felt his warm breath on this already scorching hot area. Then there was his tongue, wet and firm as it dragged along your slit.

It felt like all of the pleasure in your body finally had a place to land and it was the start of an exciting relief. He slowly dragged his tongue back-and-forth, seemingly seeing no reason to rush.

With your chest heaving, you were poised to feel him move inside. And you knew that would be the point when the pleasure exploded inside of you.

But he took his mouth off of you instead of going deeper. You froze, confused on such a deep level.

“Yeah, I think you’ve successfully been broken out of that chaotic little prison of your mind.” He said, resting his hands on your thighs as he looked up at you. “Now, do you know how to control your orgasm? If I say you aren’t allowed to come until I’m done counting down: can you do that?”

“Um, I think so.” You said.

“Only one way to find out. I’m going to count from five to zero, and when I say zero that’s the moment that you come. But not before that.” He explained.

Words failed you so you just nodded. Internally, you panicked because controlling your orgasm while you had absolutely no control over your body seemed like an impossible feat. But you had to try for him.

He lined himself up with your pussy again, half of his face disappearing from your sight. Before saying any numbers, he extended his tongue to your entrance.

It felt like a long time before he started to count. You heard five and you curled your hands into fists as you tried to steady yourself.

But the sensations kept getting more intense, thanks to his tongue quickly swirling around your entrance. He said four, then you felt his tongue move inside a little. He kept swirling at this shallow point and your tummy clenched. You heard him say three and you started to get excited for your release.

The anticipation was crushing on your chest. But when he said two, you thought you would be able to make it.

“One.” He said after slurping noisily.

You were holding your breath as he plunged his tongue inside, to thoroughly rub it against the walls of your pussy. You felt like you were ready to float away with the pleasure.

But zero didn’t come. Instead he retracted his tongue, your pussy uselessly clenching as he repositioned.

His hands went to your butt, holding each cheek as he eased them apart. You drew in a series of shaky breaths, you were so confused and unsettled.

You felt the smooth wetness of his tongue glide across your hole. This unique experience was like a jolt through your system, surprising you enough that you didn’t know how to react.

He stroked his tongue back the other way and moaned. “Mm, virgin asshole, what a rare delicacy.”

He repeatedly licked at this secret spot. When he began to ease his tongue inside, your eyes fluttered shut. It wasn’t like anything you had felt before. The pleasure was deep, but less intense - it would need to be built upon. And it seemed that was what he intended to do, finding a new way to make you float.

The paddle was brought back to your attention when he slapped it against your pussy. He spanked it onto you repeatedly, too fast for you to recover between strikes. You were rapidly climbing up to that edge again.

It was a wonderful combination. His tongue firmly in your hole felt like it could lead to an orgasm, you were floating. But the paddle hitting you made you want to explode into your orgasm. The sharp and the sensual danced together, bringing out more need.

You were given a break from the flogging. He dragged his tongue from your asshole to your pussy. Your entire body was responding as he repeated this motion, getting into a lovely rhythm. You began to think your release was possible as this consistent pleasure took you away from feeling like a person - you were becoming nothing more than a throbbing need.

“Ethan?” You feebly began. “Aren’t you gonna finish counting?”

“Hm?” He hummed as he took his mouth off of you. “I guess I hadn’t considered it.” You bit into your lower lip, hard. “Are you saying that you could come from this?”

“Ye- ah.” You were entirely shocked when he swiftly plunged his tongue into your ass again. As your whole body clenched, he resumed his licking from one hole to the other. “Yes, please. Please Daddy, please.”

He briefly interrupted his flow to speak. “You could come like this?”

“Yes, yes. Please, yes.” You whined.

He stopped licking, now repositioning so that he could stand in front of you. You stared back at him, lost of how to react, only knowing that patience was currently beyond your limited capabilities.

“No, no, not like that. I need to see your face as you’re coming. That’s the kind of stuff Daddy likes.” He said.

Even more of his hair had come free from the tie, giving you a physical representation of how all of this effort was affecting him.

“So you’re getting very close, hm?” He asked.

You nodded as you panted heavily. You were so primed that orgasming was literally all you could think about.

“You were telling me I had the wrong house. But now look at the desperate mess you’ve become.” He said, standing close enough that you could feel his body heat. “All because of me. What a spectacular transformation.”

Your wait was concluded by him spanking your pussy with the toy. Then he turned it around, freeing the handle and holding it by the paddle.

You didn’t know what he was doing, until the handle’s rounded end was applied to your cunt. He pushed it firmly against you then manoeuvred it down, touching it to your clit.

Your throat clenched as he kept it there. Maintaining the pressure, he moved it up-and-down on the hood. You were immediately moaning, dazzled by the sensations this brought.

“Where was I up to?” He wondered aloud. Then he spoke before you could answer. “Hm, I totally forgot. I guess I’ll start over- five.”

He worked the handle consistently against your clit, making you violently tremor all over. As he slowly counted, he grabbed you by your chin. In the brief seconds when you managed to open your eyes, you saw the intense way he was watching you, not missing a single reaction.

“Two.” He reached and you began to get yourself ready to let it all go.

Trying to keep the climax back felt like you were attempting to hold fire in your hands, as a safety precaution. The energy wouldn’t stay contained for long, it was too volatile for that. And as you held it, you were still getting a little burnt.

“One.” He calmly said.

“Please Ethan, please, please…” It was an effort to get these words out due to how tight your throat was clenching. But you persisted, because you needed his mercy. “Please, please, Ethan please, please.”

He didn’t say a word as he took the toy’s handle away from you. The next sound came from you - you wailed when he spanked your clit.

You thought that if he said zero in that moment, you would have been able to come as the sensations of that hit reverberated through your system. They were powerful enough to take you down.

But the number didn’t come. When you opened your eyes, you realised that you hadn’t missed him saying it. He had simply left the room without saying it.

You didn’t know where he had gone. As your thoughts raced, your breath continued to come in faster than usual.

You checked around as much as you could manage, but you could only see his belongings. Not being touched felt so much worse than any of the pain from the paddle. The absence was crueller than his excessive teasing.

You were still short on breath when he re-entered the room, with a full glass of water in hand. Even out of his presence you hadn’t been able to relax, you had found no reason to do so.

He hadn’t fixed his hair yet. He approached you, brow furrowing. “What’s wrong with you? Why are you panting like a dog?”

“I dunno, I’m not doing it on purpose. I guess I’m just too worked up to catch my breath.” You said, feeling the labour in your lungs.

“Well I don’t need you hyperventilating and passing out.” He said. “Hanging like that isn’t going to impede you from doing breathing exercises with me, is it?”

“I don’t think so.” You said.

He had a drink. “Okay, let’s slow it down. You’re going to watch me take a deep breath and you’re going to do the same. Okay, inhale…”

“But, Ethan…” You said and he frowned. “I need to come.”

“No. What you need to do is calm down and take some deep breaths.” He said.

“But I can’t calm down right now.” You said. “You don’t understand-...”

He grabbed your chin, staring you down in a serious fashion. “You can and you will. And you’ll feel better for it. Okay, inhale through your nose…”

You copied him but your inhale was shakier than his. You held your breath when he did, but you exhaled much quicker.

He started to caress his hand along the side of your face and you let yourself be comforted by this. “Stop freaking out.” He spoke slowly to keep up this tempo of breathing. “Come back to yourself, baby. And when you do, you’ll find it makes everything feel better.”

The feeling of frenzy died off from inside of you as you improved at matching his breaths. Less of your body was stinging. Overall, you felt more sane as you watched his chest expand around another deep breath.

“See? You don’t have to tell me that I was right, because I already know that.” He said. “Water?”

“Yes, please.”

He raised the glass to your lips and carefully tipped it. The water was so smooth on your scratchy throat. Added to everything else, you were properly refreshed.

He stroked your cheek. “Do you want Daddy to let you down?”

“No, thank you.”

He helped you to have another sip before he moved to place the glass down.

When he came back, he ran his hands up-and-down your sides as he stared deeply in your eyes. “Now, let’s get to that other pressing priority of yours: you need to come.”

You didn’t care that he was mocking you. You nodded.

One of his hands went to your cheek and he drew in for a kiss. There was less to distract you, allowing you to enjoy these kisses more.

“Poor little tied up thing, you are about to get so used.” He said, and this comment registered clearly in your pussy, making it flutter.

He wrapped an arm around your waist and pressed himself to your chest as he resumed kissing you. You were looking forward again. The new taste on his lips hinted at what was ahead of you.

You interrupted before he could guide his tongue between your lips. “Ethan, I’m not gonna get pregnant, am I?”

“No, I don’t make sperm. That’s a human thing, it would be totally pointless for me.” He said.

“Oh, okay.” You said.

“Don’t worry about anything.” He said, trailing his fingertips along your spine. “Just concentrate on feeling good, darling.”

He kissed you and as you kept in rhythm with him, you felt into his body more. Now that you were calmer, you could properly feel the silent communication between your bodies.

You wrapped your free leg around his waist when he began to grind against you. All of those excited tingles came rushing back in. The intimacy allowed you to return to that state of receptiveness, making the connection of your bodies feel so significant.

“Don’t be an idiot and hold your breath.” He ordered as he rubbed his dick on your slit. “Keep taking those deep breaths, as much as you can.”

You were staring at his lips as you nodded. “Okay.”

He moved his hand to your ass, gripping you here as he applied himself to you with more pressure. This firm tempo was bringing the throbbing of your pussy back at full force. Wet sounds were accompanying his movements.

“Tell me, what’s Daddy about to do?” He asked.

Your cunt was already eagerly clenching. “Take my virginity.”

“Uh-huh, and…?” He prompted.

“Give me my wish.” You said.

“That’s right. Now be a good girl and let Daddy in.”

Your attention immediately wanted to relocate from your breathing rate when you felt the head of his dick working you open. He eased the length in, making you feel a stretch different to anything experienced before. Your heart moved up into your throat again, your excitement so ready to overflow.

He moved slowly at filling you up. He squeezed his eyes shut and let out a quick exhale. Lines formed on his face, showing you his determination.

“Fuck, that is really tight.” He said, puffing out another sharp breath.

You were feeling a little amazed that it was fitting inside. The pressure brought more blood pumping into this area, making you feel even more tender. As his hips gradually came closer to yours, your pussy kept adjusting to accommodate him.

He stopped before getting the entire shaft inside of you. “Cazzo, that is next-level tight and it’s so, so good. I’m definitely gonna have to come in this pussy.”

You were getting used to this feeling of fullness when he started to thrust. Between your walls, he smoothly moved himself back-and-forth. His tip massaged against you in the most intimate fashion. This brought new sensitivities to the forefront of your mind, dazzling you as they promised to take you to climax.

It didn’t take him long to establish a tempo, one plunge confidently following the next. It felt better than the teasing, now all of your tingles were lingering and reaching deeper. At the core of your being, you were getting ready to fall apart for him.

“Sweet girl, please tell me that you haven’t changed your mind, and now you want a gentle fuck.” He said.

“No.”

“That’s very good. Because it would be literally impossible for me to hold back when you feel this amazing around me.” He explained.

As he picked up the pace, you couldn’t help feeling so flattered. It was incredible (you probably wouldn’t have believed it at the start) that you could bring him to the point of losing control too. You felt even more connected to this stranger, feeling like the passion was so mutual. 

“Ethan, are you gonna do another countdown?” You asked.

“No, no more of that. I’m just gonna tell you when I want you to come. And when I say it, you better do it.” He said.

“Okay.” You said, nodding through all of the surging sensations.

You were filled with the most luxurious warmth. The tingles had been replaced by jolts - unpredictable and exciting, they accompanied you on this climb to the peak.

Eventually he could work all of his generous shaft into you, plunging straight for your sweet spot. Your tummy clenched and you were in disbelief over how marvellous it felt. It was what everything had been building towards, and it was better than anything that had come before.

It felt like your nerves were on fire, even when he was rocking his body weight back. Your efforts to keep your breath were now being painted with whines - the desperation you felt was impossible to hide.

The excitement only made the clenching of your inner-walls more powerful, an involuntary clamping around his length. This squeezing didn’t impede his momentum. Instead it added to the intensity, inspiring him to go even faster.

“Fuck, you’re getting me there, sweet girl.” He said as you twitched and kept losing more of yourself. “Are you close?”

Your body was full of earthquakes, the strongest one yet made you cry out before you could answer him. “Yes, so fucking close. Oh, ah…”

“Let it happen. Surrender it to me…” He ordered and you found the feeling of him driving into you slightly changed. There was an extra heat, something that felt like splashing. “Surrend-uh, um, oh fuck.”

This new sensation continued, allowing you to identify it as his cock unloading into you. You savoured the feeling of him marking you so deep.

He drove himself the whole way forward one last time, delivering him to your sweet spot. And he stayed there, grinding on you as you clenched up, every muscle tensing.

Then you started to rupture. On every possible level, you were overwhelmed by the pleasure.

Soon the satisfaction took you away and you transcended absolutely everything. You didn’t feel the ropes restricting you, you didn’t feel him. You could feel only bliss, like a white light guiding you.

You accepted the tiredness as it seeped in, exacerbating how weak you were. You kept your eyes shut, even as you felt your body gently being jostled around.

Before you had the chance to notice the change, you felt yourself being laid on something soft. You opened your eyes to discover that you were back in your bedroom. You could freely move your limbs about again. You were still naked, and so was the man in the room with you.

Ethan didn’t join you on the bed and you got the impression that now was the time to take your last looks at him. You curled onto your side, moving back to almost the same position you had been in when he had awoken you by knocking on the door.

“If I go into your bathroom, will I find some kind of washcloth, to get that load off of your face?” He asked, speaking with no edge to his tone.

“Yeah, it’s the last-”

He cut off your instructions before you could properly get started. “I know where it is.”

Once he was gone, you redirected your gaze to where you kept a bottle of water on the nightstand. With a tender arm, you reached out and collected it.

You got distracted before you could have a sip, your eyes going to the alarm clock’s glowing numbers. 3.33.

Assuming it was broken, you sought the second opinion of the clock on your phone. You picked up the device and activated the screen, just for it to report the exact same time. This was confusing, but you weren’t alert enough to try to figure out the how or why.

Ethan returned, a damp cloth in hand. He crouched down beside your bed and began to gently wipe at your face.

“How do you feel, honey?” He asked. His gaze was just as intense as before.

And you were blushing. “Distinctly un-virginal.”

“You just stay where you are. I don’t need you to show me to the door, or anything.” He said, working the cloth over your entire face.

“So that’s it, then?” You asked.

“Yep. I will get my shit together and just disappear into the night.” He said. “Wham, bam, you can thank me, ma’am.”

“How do I know the deal is officially done?” You asked.

“For fuck’s sake, can’t you just take my word for it? I don’t have a receipt you can keep.” He said.

“Okay.”

“We didn’t sign a contract on paper. We signed it with our bodies.” He said.

“Right, and that’s a very new concept for me. But I’ll try to remember that.” You said.

He was smirking as he finished cleaning the dried cum off of your face. “I don’t think you’ll have any trouble remembering every part of this night.” He got to his feet. “Now, rest.”

You watched as he began to leave the room. Even though you knew that you had to let him go, you worried that all of the good you were feeling would go with him. “Goodbye, Ethan.”

He turned off the light on his way out and you kept watching, until he was entirely gone from your sight. You drank some water, listening to the noises of him preparing to depart. It was ending, the only way for your mood to go was down.

You heard the front door close behind him. Now the green numbers on the clock read 3.34.

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reflections from you? ---- does the suspension frame fit back into his jacket? (or does he leave it at her house?) - will she tell her friends? - did she make the right wish? - favourite nickname he called her? - will she try to summon him a second time?

[fandomfluffandfuck]

You know what I would loove to read from you? Pussy Steve (or pussy Bucky? 👀) and virginity/Innocence kink. Just pure smut of shy, inexperienced kitten getting their cunt pounded properly for the first time and cumming stupid. 🫶🏼

For reference, my ask box is no longer open for requests, but this is from before I closed it, so I will be writing for this ask.

First, you probably would be interested in this previous fic rec I did for an ask

Second, I can't not think of this part of one of my evanstan drabbles that hinted at virginity kink because...

It's good. It's hot. It's, it's-- It reminds him, suddenly, guttingly, of whispered rumors of dirty, bad men told in private. Words pressed into ears, raising goosebumps, hidden behind cupped hands. Gossip that drips down your spine and pools inside you, wrong but... helplessly intriguing at the same time. Intoxicating. A fly caught in a honey trap. He feels like a dirty, bad man taking--thieving--some poor lady's worn panties and smothering himself in them, burying his face in the tiny, pretty, white-cotton underpants and fantasizing about her body, not her clothes. Picturing, filthily, how sweet and sensitive she'd be. How she'd moan and squeal and take it in a tight fit, pinned down. And as horrifyingly arousing as the nasty, vile comparison is--appealing only with his inhibitions lowered to the fucking ground, stupidly turned on and horny, not in his right state of mind--he can't quit. And, further, he makes it worse. He makes the comparison all the more real as he tilts his head to the head, thrashing side to side for a helpless, breathless moment before settling and pressing his blushing, burning face into Sebastian's pillow. He shamelessly inhales a chestful of his scent and leans that much more into it. He doesn't just rut against Sebastian's shirt as if it's a pillow conveniently held between his legs then. No. It's even more crude. Worse. He wraps Sebastian's worn shirt around his cock and defiles it.

Yeah 🥴🥴

And third... here's pussy Buck losing his virginity (which, again, like in that linked ask for recs, isn't real and doesn't mean shit):

When Bucky imagined losing his virginity, it was primarily a passing idea in the deep private space of his horny, lonely high school brain. But, he was a realist, even back then--and, not to mention, gay--so it wasn't the fantasy of white sheets, red rose petals, and fragrant candles to ward off the total darkness of having the lights off with a long-term boyfriend, ideally supposedly even good-Christian husband. He didn't imagine it slow and good, he imagined it fast and bad.

And he imagined it that way because he imagined it, again and again, with his crush, one of the jocks on the football team he pinned stupidly after who, really, seemed to be a jerk to all the girls he made out with at lame, underage drinking parties that cops would look the other way about 'cause their kid was amongst 'em and then, somehow, he would forget about who that Friday night girl was by Monday. But... he was just so fucking guh.

That jock, just a fucking pretty man who looked so good rolling around in the field, muddy and streaked with grass stains and sweat, pulling up the bottom of his jersey to wipe the drool across his chin from his mouthguard, flashing a strip of taut abs and the faintest trail of hair leading south where Bucky wanted to get. Shamefully, even if he didn't think it would be good. He just wanted.

But.

It didn't happen in high school. Which was probably a good thing, considering how progressive his town was.

It didn't happen in freshman year of college, either, even though Bucky's fantasies took on a whole new life, especially the summer before arriving, thinking about how he was surrounded by so many different men in his dorms and would be showering with them and--

It turns out, college dorms are fucking gross.

So. Not there.

And, slowly, as he slogged through college, Bucky stopped imagining it. It would happen when it would happen, there was no point rushing it or torturing himself by imagining it at every turn. Just enjoy the ride, he told himself, don't get impatient. He kissed boys men, made out, cuddled, and did some over-the-clothes shit in cars and shitty college apartments, but, it just didn't progress all the way.

So, all in all, Bucky is fucking blindsided when it does happen. He hasn't really sat down and thought about losing his virginity in... a long time. He especially hasn't imagined it happening with a hot, older PhD student. But. It does. It happens with Steve Rogers, a PhD student when Bucky's a term or two away from getting his Bachelor's. And, most shockingly, it's good--

"Ahh, ohmygod, aH-!" Bucky moans underneath the man on top of him, sweaty and heavy and pressing him bodily into the mattress, which is a good thing because if he didn't, Bucky thinks he could float away. He didn't think it would feel so good the first time. He thought it would hurt or that, best case scenario, it would be fine, but not good or great because he doesn't know what he likes and he assumed he would be with someone his own age who was also unsure and fumbling and inexperienced, therefore, innocently bad.

He didn't--shit, a wave of heat crashes through Bucky, sticky and intense as Steve keeps going despite his embarrassing sounds of pleasure--he didn't think he would want to slap a hand over his own mouth during his first time because, fuck, it was embarrassing enough when he had to red-faced explain to Steve that he's never done this before, he's 23, it means nothing that he hasn't, but... just looking at Steve? Steve fucks. And, now, he's more embarrassed because he can't stop making sounds.

Breathy, shocked, hot noises that curl out of his gaped-open lips like mewling moans as he has his cunt fucked loose for the very first time. He feels loose. Loose lips, moaning, loose joints, neck limp, and losing timing.

He's so fucked because, yes, literally, Steve's cock is inside him, it's heavier and hotter and thicker in his pussy than he would've ever thought to imagine, but he's also fucked because this feels so good. He gets it. He gets why no one can shut the fuck up about sex. He understands. He's not going to shut up about it. Even as embarrassing as his reaction to it is, he's never going to go without this again.

God.

It feels like a revelation.

It is a revelation.

He wants to do this forever.

This is the only thing that matters to him now.

Sex.

Every time Steve thrusts forward inside him, he gets in so deep. The pressure and friction are so good. The slide is wet but tight. Bucky is so much more sensitive inside than he ever realized.

Jesus Christ, it's laughable now to think that Bucky didn't think he liked penetration that much just an hour ago. An ill-informed opinion based on how it felt when he was touching himself. Having Steve touch him is so entirely different. Bucky almost always just stayed on the outside of his body, playing with his achingly sensitive clit and tracing the folds of his inner and outer lips when it got too much to keep rubbing his clit or to gather up the wetness that would leak out of him for easier circles around his achy, pulsing clit. Whenever he tried to finger himself in earnest, searching to find his own g-spot according to Cosmo's top ten salacious tips for better sex, he just ended up with a crick in his wrist, was frustrated by the fact that it didn't feel that great when he thought it ought to, or being unsure if he was even doing it right in the first place. He didn't know that--

"Oh, ohh," Bucky's eyes roll back in his skull despite all his effort to focus on Steve on top of him. He's muscle, just, everywhere. How he has time for school and living at the gym and charming the pants off Bucky, Bucky does not understand. How else can he be built like a Greek god if he's not always at the gym? He's so fucking handsome, pale and blushing, strong and muscular, nice but dirty. He's everything Bucky never dared to think about, thinking men like Steve were so out of his league.

Steve is here, though, Steve is making him helplessly moan and whine on his cock as he fucks him within an inch of his life in his bed. One of his hands is planted next to Bucky's fanned-out hair restlessly curling across the pillows as he thrashes his head side to side and his other hand is on Bucky's body, tracing the line of his throat, toying with his nipples, finding his hips and squeezing, pawing at his clit to leave his toes curling and using his fingers to slide down, down, down his wet slit and trace where his cock is splitting him open, leaking around the intrusion of him.

He's so big.

Bucky doesn't know how it fits in him.

He doesn't know how big Steve really is, he's got nothing to compare him to, but he just knows that it feels like it's in more than his pussy--Steve's filling his belly and fucking into his throat. That's why Bucky can't breathe. That's fucking it. He's so chokingly full.

And Bucky is having the fucking time of his life.

Choking, sputtering, and writhing as Steve goes at him, buried within him and showing him what he's never known before. Their chests heaving and hitting together, colliding perfectly.

Steve is fucking him so good, his hips rolling smoothly, just hard and deep and fast enough. It's perfectly good, making Bucky really fucking feel every inch of him, clenching, trembling around him in a daze of arousal. Eyes rolled back. Feeling like he can't do anything but take it.

Take it.

Steve's cock is plunging expertly into his wet, squelching cunt, moving to the rhythm of a thudding, window-shaking, whole-body-rattling house-music-style song that Bucky can't hear but shamelessly revels in anyway; Steve's hands caressing his body like he's precious, touching him everywhere and making him sweat like crazy, feeling so much, and filled to overflowing with heated desire; Steve's lips on his, colliding hard and swallowing his sounds down, then smearing hungry kisses across his face to his jaw to bite and suck at his neck, the thin, delicate skin there so much more alive then Bucky ever knew it could be, crackling with want; Steve's hot, honey-dripping words meeting Bucky's sounds of pleasure in the scant few inches on thick, humid air between them, so charged that it's hard to take any oxygen into his lungs, barely breathable, too, too much--

Steve chuckles, amused and pleasantly teasing as he tells Bucky, "you can touch me, too, sweetheart."

He's been doing that all night, coaxing him into participating in his first time more and more. It's active. He's taking but he's also giving. Bucky loves it.

Bucky fucking loves sex.

And, really, Bucky had not realized his hands were just shaking in limp, unsure fists by his sides until Steve's words finally process in his mushy brain. He blinks open his eyes, fighting against the sticky, too-thick lust poured over him, weighing him down, making him slow. Dumber. And for a long moment, the best he can do is arch his back. It feels so rauchy, but he's possessed. Bending. Breaking. His head is dropped completely back against the pillows. His neck couldn't hold the weight of his head if his life depended on it. He... he... he feels like he's moving through molasses, trying to lift his arms and touch Steve.

It's nearly impossible. Bucky is spread so thin, melted into Steve's mattress like a thin layer of marmalade on hot toast.

He's never going to recover.

He gets about halfway into holding his arms up, muscles trembling weakly before Steve takes pity on him and uses his sure, knowledgable grip to loop his arms around his neck. Bucky moans, feeling how feverish and sweat-soaked Steve is--it's not just him. Steve's in it, too. He's here with him. And Bucky uses all of his wimpy strength to push his quivering fingers into the short hairs at the base of Steve's skull, cupping his head and staring foggily into his ravenous eyes. He looks ready to swallow Bucky. Something inside Bucky adores it, preening and pushing his chest forward, feeling big and bold and wanted. Desired, even. It's hot as fuck. Bucky wants to feel like this forever.

"Yeah," Steve rewards him with a groaning word of agreement and a lewd kiss, tonguing him, no, fucking his mouth with his tongue as his cock just fucking keeps at it, grinding, digging, carving into him.

Bucky can't breathe, he can only gasp.

"Yeah, that's it, baby," Steve encourages, "why don't you hold onto me, hmm? I know it feels good--"

Bucky whines. It does. It feels good. It's so good he could cry.

"--and I know 's a lot, so just hold on and touch me a little while I fuck you, yeah? Don't worry about anything else, jus' right here, touch me, lemme in, c'mon, babyy."

Bucky nods uselessly, letting his hands slide down Steve's body, openly adoring and admiring his unreal body, squeezing the meat of his hugely broad shoulders and following his fingers with his eyes, nearly going cross-eyed when--

Oh.

His vision is fucking filled with the overwhelming, gut-punchingly hot vision of Steve's chest. Bucky felt up his chest when they were making out just before this, he knows he has big, tight, high pecs. Part of his unreal, gym-sculpted physique. He didn't--he doesn't know--how was he supposed to know that his pecs would jiggle when he's fucking into him?

"Go on, h-honey," Steve kisses his temple, just a little sloppy as he moans against his skin, "touch 'em," he urges him on, "grab my tits."

Bucky does. He doesn't need fucking brain cells to follow those tempting directions. He just does. He wants to bite Steve's tits and, fuck, he's never had such an aggressive, intense urge before but it doesn't matter. He has no ability to process it. He just feels it.

He wants to bite.

Further--because that's not it, of course, that can't be it--Bucky fucking holds on for dear life, he wraps an arm around Steve's muscular fucking back and lifts himself forward an inch, maybe not even that, clinging to him, shoving his face against Steve's neck, feeling his pulse thunder through him, and smashing his hand tight against Steve's pecs--his tits--and his own heaving chest.

Just that little bit changes the angle, and suddenly, a squeal is ripped out of Bucky.

He has no choice but to cling tighter, curling his legs around the formidable line of Steve's body, needing him even closer, deeper, tighter, more, shoving them together tip to tail. Christ. His body couldn't be hungrier. He needs. He--

He accidentally shoves his clit tight to Steve's pelvis changing the angle, making the hot, hard line of Steve's body rub harshly against his clit with every thrust into his soaking pussy.

"OH!" Bucky's mouth drops open wide, hardly muffled against the junction between Steve's neck and shoulder. His hold, arms and legs wrapped around Steve's body, is like if he were drowning in shark infested waters and someone threw him a life preserver. It's frantic.

Fervent.

Steve doesn't even have to touch him between his legs anymore. His cock can do all the work. And he's free to plaster the huge, heavy hand, not holding himself up against the small of Bucky's back and keep him there. Keep him tight. Keep him close. Keep, keep--

Keep thrusting.

Bucky is fucking losing it. No. He's lost it. Already.

He's squealing, he's hyperventilating, and he's crying. He's crying not because it's so beautiful and emotional like he might've once assumed losing his virginity would be, hell no, it is beautifully filthy with every wet sound of Steve's cock fucking into him and every cry of pleasure from them both, but, instead, tears are prickling his eyes, hot and pressurized behind his squeezed shut eyelids, because it's so fucking good.

He's crying and he's tipping over the edge with Steve inside him and against him and overwhelming him and he's cumming so hard that he can feel it in his teeth.

It's official: Bucky's imagination doesn't hold a candle to reality.

[somethingpersonarelated]

Akechi's taste in Literature

I've taken an interest in the books Akechi reads. Obviously from the first time you talk with him, you can already tell what he tends to: psychology, philosophy, and mythos. Also, I read at least a little bit from every text. One of my professors out there is proud of me. I hope. So: let's talk about it!

Ok, but why care? Quick Introduction

No particular reason. I simply want to tinker with his brain. I think it could give us insight on the character! And there's an easy way to dismiss this conversation: Akechi uses books as a way to appear intelligent. I don't think that's wrong per se, but he does express an interest in psychology and philosophy in his third semester Jazz Jin discussions. His thieves den conversations also point to interests in mythos. Use this as a "Annoying Person Bookshelf" if you'd like, I certainly will.

Aristole's De Anima (Mementos Mission - Chapter 3)

De Anima, or "On the Soul" [Leob Classical Library], is an examination of the soul and how it functions within the body. It's pretty dense but easily accessible. On page 15,

"There are times when men show all the symptoms of fear without any cause of fear being present. If this is the case, then clearly the affections of the soul are formulae expressed in matter."

Now, I'm not going to read every book, that would be a huge investment. And unfortunately I am still a university student, so I'll stick to the introduction/first chapters or so. But anyways, to the point of the quote, De Anima tends to get metaphysical. Theory time: Akechi has morbid fascinations with the soul. Not only because he well, kills people, but also messes with the restraints on their heart. I choose this quote because it's a good summary of the kind of body horror someone messing with you in the metaverse is like. It's fear and anger unchained, but it manifests in reality through subway accidents... for example.

Hegel's Dialectics (did Akechi misquote Hegel?) - Rank 1

Look, almost all of these texts are slogs to get through, so I wouldn't blame Akechi for not catching this. Or not reading the 2017 in-universe equivalent of cliffnotes. Note: Dialectics refers to the structure/strategy that Hegel uses, not a text itself. Looking at the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy we see that Hegel never makes mention of the thesis, antithesis, and synthesis idea. Rather, thesis-antithesis-synthesis is a pattern in his arguments. These are also projected by people reading his text, so we can't fully be sure he's using this to formulate most of his arguments. So not only has Akechi forgotten synthesis, the "unification", but also the fact that Hegel doesn't talk about this. Did he read Hegel? Probably. Did he retain the information? Questionable. Do I blame the writers for making the mistake? mmmm. Maybe. If you're asking me to guess which book he read, I would estimate it was The Phenomenology of Spirit [Google Books]. And yes, I'm going to say it was just because of this quote on page 9 that just, screams Black Mask:

"The force of the mind is only as great as expression; its depth only as, as deep as its power to expand and lose itself when spending and giving out its substance."

Maurice Leblanc's Arsène Lupin vs Sherlock Holmes (Herlock Sholmes) (P5A)

This book I read because my curiosity definitely got the better of me. Since I've gotten into Persona 5 again, I've been DYING to read this one, but never got around to it. I think this one is also interesting to look at based on how it was represented in the anime, a crow escaping a bird cage. I can say that this doesn't happen in the book, but this is why I think Akechi is self inserting on Holmes/Sholmes here. Holmes is much freer as a person in this text than Akechi, but also in a deep rivalry with Lupin. Their banter is also pretty reminiscent of what they [Joker and Akechi] have, but... with older language. Longer quote, so here's an image in its place:

Edit/Correction: Edogawa Ranpo's Kogoro Akechi Series!

As pointed out by a couple people, we can't leave out this series. (credits to @heavy-metal-papillon) I don't know why my mind blanked and left this out. Because when I was doing research for this post someone had mentioned it. Just by name, it should be obvious why this is here! Here is a part of the preface that explains Kogoro Akechi, Arsene Lupin, and their presence in Edogawa's novels (written by Ho-Ling Wong):

Literature he makes references but doesn't mention (note: headcanon/my opinion)

John Stuart Mill's On Utilitarianism

Because Akechi knows how to flirt, he recommends philosophy to Joker. [Early Modern Texts] In my eyes he definitely doesn't agree with this philosophy (in fact some quotes are definitely more aligned with Maruki's philosophy). Page 8:

"That’s because the utilitarian standard is not •the agent’s own greatest happiness but •the greatest amount of happiness altogether; and even if it can be doubted whether a noble character is always happier because of its nobleness, such a character certainly makes other people happier, and the world in general gains immensely from its existence."

Yes, Akechi reads Freud. Freud's essays: Beyond the Pleasure Principle & The Ego Principle

In an offhanded comment about Personas in the Thieves Den to Ryuji, Akechi says:

I love you Akechi. I will not read Freud for you. My love has limits.

Carl Jung's Two Essays on Analytical Psychology

Okay I'm NOT reading this (a lie, i did. [Internet Archive]) but this was the foundational text on the Jungian Archetype of the Persona as well as addressing concepts such as "the will to power." Going to leave this quote from page 78 for you to munch on:

"Logically, the opposite of love is hate, and of Eros, Phobos (fear); but psychologically it is the will to power. Where love reigns, there is no will to power; and where the will to power is paramount, love is lacking. The one is but the shadow of the other..."

There's a couple things here that point to Akechi reading this, but ultimately I just headcanon that he wants to reason through why Personas exist.

Generally reads about the casts Personas!

Similarly to how Joker can read about the other PTs Personas, Akechi does as well. Well, if his morbid discussion about Captain Kidd in the Thieves Den is an indicator. Does this mean Akechi is familiar with the Carmen stage opera? I think so. Besides, it's also the smartest move. Akechi (head)canonically reads lovecraft.

Conclusion

Akechi really enjoys psychology and philosophy, and while some of it seems like he's doing it for attention/to appear smarter, he DOES continue to show interest in third-semester/thieves den. I still can't forgive him for reading Freud.

The List (of ones directly mentioned here)

De Anima, Aristotle

The Phenomenology of Spirit, Hegel

Arsène Lupin vs Sherlock Holmes, Leblanc

On Utilitarianism, John Stuart Mill

Beyond the Pleasure Principle & The Ego Principle, Freud

Two Essays, Carl Jung

The Fiend with Twenty Faces, Edogawa Ranpo

Other notes and headcanons I can't justify giving sections to:

he probably read that fuckass billiards book

definitely stuff on justice. i was just lazy. Some of these texts do cover these ideas, but definitely not all of them

he likes detective novels. he's probably read a fair share of sherlock holmes.

he probably reads adjacent literature to some of the philosophers mentioned (for example: Nietzsche to Jung, Plato to Aristotle)

[petriwriting]

The one where Theodore realizes he's fallen in love with his best friend at the worst time.

A/N: Quick one-shot after rewatching the movies. It's that time of year.

I have loved you since our first year.

I can't lose them like this.

I can.t.

I won't.

There were colorful blasts shot at them, rubble and debris scattered in traces as the aftermath of each blast. Theo's heart was racing. He was running. He had lost Y/n's hand running from the men who were trying to hurt him. and Y/n. The blast caused the rubble to block their path, y/n was running in the opposite direction.

Adrenaline coursing through their bodies, Theodore was smart and clever beyond his years, but he wasn't as fast as he would've liked. The men shouted after Theo, mocking him. calling him a Traitor.

Entering an abandoned home, he quickly ran upstairs, losing sight of his aggressor. y/n had gone in this direction, they must be near. Please be safe. He thought to himself, back against the window, wand poised and ready for attack.

A man in a dark cloak and a mask busted down the door.

Theo was quick in that moment, a stunning spell. something powerful enough to keep him down long enough for Theo to escape. to y/n. The man fell to the floor with a thud, and Theo quickly grabbed his wand, snapping it in half and kicking it across the room, rendering the hooded figure defenseless.

The shriek made his blood boil, Theodore had never acted so fast before. He ran, practically jumping down the stairs to get to where the sound was coming from. It was y/n. Quickly busting downstairs, the basement is where they were.

Another hooded figure in a dark cloak. He had y/n held by the throat, wand pointed at their head. "Not another move." The figure demanded, it sounded like an old man.

"Don't you dare," Theodore uttered through his teeth.

His heart was in the man's hands. "You little traitor. they won't be killed, don't worry." the old man slogged, Theo was afraid to make any moves, though his wand was at the ready. "They deserve to be tortured for your crimes..." he tightened his grip around y/n's neck, pleased when they whimpered and gasped for air.

"Your little friend will meet an unfortunate ending, however-"

"Reducto!"

The man was cut off. The mirror behind them, along with a blast of wood and what was likely a lovely vanity at one point combusted, causing enough distraction for y/n to wriggle free and stun their aggressor.

"We have to get out of here!"

Theo's voice was shaken at the thought of losing them, and he was heartbroken even seeing Y/n in danger at all. especially since it was likely him they were after. Y/n lunged forward, grabbing Theodore's outstretched hand. within seconds, he had used an apparition spell.

Once they were to safety, somewhere the two men who had been chasing them couldn't find, the two caught their breath, letting their heart rates settle. Y/n threw their arms around Theodore, breathlessly sobbing. "I'm so sorry." was all he could utter, embarrassed and beaten down.

Their faces were illuminated by the moonlight, it was a quiet park, empty. somewhere they could breathe. Y/n, after a few deep breaths pulled away with tears streaming down their face.

"I could've lost you."

They uttered quietly, barely a whisper. Theo held them close, with his hands on either side of y/n's face. "We're safe now," he said, gently wiping the tears off their cheeks. "I won't ever let this happen again."

His voice was stern. "I will protect you no matter what happens." He said, looking into their eyes. y/n smiled softly, emotions were high. "I love you. They'll never take you from me," he said. it was unfiltered, he spoke his thoughts and what was on his heart. He did love them, dearly. which is why the thought of losing them to the war was worse than death itself. The way he was feeling at that moment was far greater than any love potion that could ever be brewed by even the greatest potion master.

Because he realized that he loved them. Not in any particular way, so much so that the thought of losing them in any way would leave irreversible wounds. Almost as much as he had loved his mother.

"you're bleeding, amore mio," he said quietly, dabbing the blood on their forehead with his sleeve, it was likely a piece of glass from when the mirror was broken. "I don't care about a scratch..." Y/n chuckled softly. "I've always loved you," there was a slight pause. "I'm just glad you're here with me." y/n said.

It still didn't feel safe, their guards were up, so they went someplace that was secure. where they wouldn't be found as easily.

All Theo could think about was his love for y/n. what he always thought was a schoolyard crush, something that didn't mean anything, something he had denied for many years, something deep within him, an undying feeling. on that night, for him at least, that love became real.

____________________________________________________________

A/N: This sort of follows my personal headcanon that Theo became a death eater because his father forced him to, and he kind of has a moment where he realizes he doesn't truly follow Voldemort so he 'switches' sides. similarly to Draco. I don't know what prompted the angst, but I think this might potentially make an interesting mini-series. let me know. Hope you enjoyed it!

[rotzaprachim]

like the way that lenú’s relationship to lila is so parallel to julio’s relationship to tenoch, they’re the best friend they’re obsessed with, on some level, despite their casual cruelty and dickishness and generalised Disinterest or else solely situational interest, but the situations come at a complete class inverse, because tenoch can be that way because he’s rich and the son of a powerful man while lila’s rage and anger slosh caustically up the confines of her life as a poor woman who’se never been in any kind of control, and in both cases the class axis contributes enormously to the caustic brew of jealousy and lust that exists betweeb tenoch and julio and between lila and lenú

realisation that lenú and lila l’amica geniale are the equal and opposite reaction to tenoch and Julio y tu mamá también

[vodika-vibes]

For your follower event, could you write up something romntic for Cody with anemone and blue daisy? Please and thank you!

For Eternity

Summary: Commander Cody is exhausted, luckily for him, his girlfriend works on the Negotiator too.

Pairing: Commander Cody x F!Reader

Word Count: 1070

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: Thank you for your request! I hope you like it!

Cody is exhausted.

The campaign that he just finished was supposed to be simple. Lasting no more than a month. But, as seems to be the norm lately, the information was wrong, and the month-long campaign turned into a four month long slog.

He’s exhausted.

So exhausted.

He’s not the only one. There’s a pall hanging over the men, leaving them quiet and solemn, and even General Kenobi doesn’t have the words to make them feel better.

They need a break.

Desperately. 

As exhausted as he is, Cody’s feet don’t bring him to his quarters. Instead he goes deeper and deeper into the ship, until he arrives at the small office where the single Droid Tech works.

He keys open the door and leans against the frame, his exhausted eyes taking in the scene before him. 

His cyare. His beautiful, kind, gentle cyare is sitting at her desk with a protocol droid stretched out on the table in front of her. And one of the Shinies, Cody thinks he goes by Pots, is standing at the side of the desk, a hopeful look on his face.

He folds his arms and he decides to listen.

“So,” Pots says as he moves closer to her, “I was thinking, when we get back to Coruscant, maybe we could go dancing?”

“Pass.” She flips her goggles down over her eyes as she leans in to look at the droid’s inner workings, “No offense, but when we get back to Coruscant, I’m locking myself in my apartment until our next deployment.”

“Well, maybe you’d like some company?”

“No thank you.”

“But-” Pots takes half a step towards her, and Cody decides that it’s time to intervene.

His Cyare is only so patient, after all.

He clears his throat, and Pots jumps, though, Cody notes with amusement, his cyare didn’t even look up from her work. Of course, he’s pretty sure that her goggles have mirrors so she can see if someone comes in behind her.

“Commander!” Pots salutes hurriedly and takes several steps away from the table, “Apologies, sir, I didn’t see you.”

“Clearly.” Cody replies with an arched brow, “Everything alright in here?”

“Yessir,” Pots replies, “I was just asking her out on a date.”

Cody’s gaze drags across his cyare’s back, taking note of the tension in her frame. “I don’t think she’s interested, private.”

Pots hesitates, and his gaze flickers back to the woman and then back to his Commander, “yessir, so it would appear.” He says sullenly. He salutes one more time, and then hurries out of the room.

As soon as he’s gone, Cody steps into the room properly and allows the door to slide shut behind him. “Are you alright?”

“Mm. He would have given up eventually,” She sets her tools to the side and lifts her goggles to the top of her head, before she turns on her stool and favors him with a bright smile, her eyes crinkling at the corner with the force of her smile. “They always do.”

Cody leans against the wall and folds his arms over his chest, “They shouldn’t be bothering you at all. You’re a busy woman.”

“Well, that doesn’t stop you from bothering me.” Her voice is light and teasing as she gets to her feet. She walks over to him and lightly cups his cheek, “You look tired.”

“I am tired,” He admits as he brings his hand up and covers her hand with his own, before he turns his head to kiss the palm of her hand, “I was hoping you had some space for me?”

“What a silly question, I always have space for you.” She steps closer to him, and Cody allows himself to curl around her, his head slowly falling to her shoulder. 

He moves his hands to her waist, pulling her in for a tight hug. “This has been a very long campaign.” He murmurs against her neck.

“I know. But we’ll be home soon. And you can lock yourself in my apartment with me.”

“That sounds amazing.” Cody replies, his eyes close as she brushes her fingers through his short hair, “I have the hardest time sleeping without you next to me.”

“I’m sorry, love.”

“Not your fault. I’m the one who’s insisting on keeping this a secret,” Cody pulls away only long enough to lightly bump his forehead against hers, “If I knew that it was going to make your life more difficult-”

“Shh.” She presses a finger against his lips, “Cody, I can handle a few lonely men.”

He sighs, “I hate that they think that they can flirt with you. I…” He laughs, “I’m jealous.”

“Don’t be.” She traces his lips with one delicate finger, “I chose you. I will always choose you. Forever.”

“I’m not worried.” He replies honestly, “I just hate that they can spend time with you and I can’t.” Cody catches her hand, and laces his fingers with hers, “Do you have any idea how much I love you?”

“Almost as much as I love you?” She asks with a teasing smile.

Cody chuckles, “I love you forever.”

She favors him with a loving smile and stands up on her toes to brush her lips against his. “Forever is a long time.” She murmurs softly.

“My love for you is undying.” He replies, “Forever isn’t long enough.”

She presses closer to him, “Would you like to spend the night with me, Commander?” She asks.

“More than anything in the world.” He murmurs, and he knows there’s something hungry in his gaze based on how she’s averting her gaze and the flush rising up on her face. And then he exhales slowly, “But I should probably return to my quarters.”

There’s a glimmer of disappointment on her face, and Cody clutches her tighter. “Don’t look at me like that, cyare.” He murmurs, “I only have so much self control when it comes to you.”

“I’m sorry,” She whispers, “I just…I miss you.”

He laughs softly, “You aren’t playing fair, cyare.”

“Sorry.” But he knows that she doesn’t mean it.

He locks his gaze with hers for a moment, “I suppose,” Cody says slowly, “I can spend a little time with you. So long as I don’t stay all night.”

“That sounds like a great idea.” She replies.

“Mm. Can your project wait?”

“Absolutely.” She kisses him properly, and, just like every other time, Cody is lost.

[anoant-haikyuu-dump]

Fukutora Drabble — Kenma and Fukunaga have a little chat

Roughly 680 words, Kenma's POV, this is Fukutora but Tora's mostly just mentioned, TLDR Kenma is tired

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As a general rule of thumb Kenma avoids other people’s love lives like the plague. He stands idly by at training camp when Bokuto makes goo-goo eyes at Akaashi instead of the balls he’s supposed to be spiking. He ignores Shoyo’s weird insult-flirting with his setter (a difficult task since they do it mid-game) and turns a blind eye to whatever fruity mess is going on between Karasuno’s tall bitchy blocker and their pinch server. Not even the romantic escapades of his own team interest him— who cares if Inuoka and Shibayama have been hanging out more? That’s none of his business. But this. This is his business. Because the dumb oaf he reluctantly calls a friend keeps making it his business.

He caught Fukunaga before practice one morning and pulled him aside, careful to make sure the topic of today’s discussion was safely out of earshot. Once the coast was clear he turned back to Fukunaga, who stared at him with those beady little eyes of his. Ugh, this was gonna be horrible. 

“Ok, normally I wouldn’t get involved,” Kenma started, already cringing at their impending conversation. “It’s not my job to run around spreading gossip I don’t care about, and I definitely don’t care about this. But he’s actually driving me insane.” He sighed. “Tora’s into you. Like, really into you.” 

Fukunaga blinked, waiting patiently for him to continue. When nothing else came he simply nodded. “I know.” 

“You do?” He nodded again. That made sense, it’s not like Tora was subtle in the slightest. He was pretty sure everyone on Nekoma (minus Lev) knew. Hell, people on other teams knew. Akaashi certainly knew cause Kenma always complained to him about it. A guy as perceptive as Fukunaga was bound to catch on. “Well can you hurry up and turn him down already?” Kenma continued, “I’m getting sick and tired of hearing about it.” 

Fukunaga shook his head, “No can do boss.” 

“What? Why not?” A shrug. How foolish of Kenma to expect an actual response. “You know, it’s kind of messed up to lead him on like that, even if it’s Tora.” 

“I’m not.” 

“Wait… do you actually like him back?” 

Fukunaga gave him a slight smile and flashed a thumbs up. The gears in Kenma’s brain were really turning now. Setting aside Fukunaga’s abysmal taste in men, this wasn’t computing. “Let me get this straight. You know he likes you.”

“Mmm.” 

“And you like him back.” 

“Mhm.” 

“But you’re choosing to sit back and do nothing about it?”

“Bingo.”

It took all of Kenma self-restraint to stop him from slamming his head into the wall. At this rate he was gonna have wrinkles before hitting his 20’s. “Why would you do that?” he groaned, “Don’t you wanna date him or whatever? Actually don’t answer that, thinking about it’s gonna make me gag.” 

Though his expression barely changed the look Fukunaga gave him sent a chill down Kenma’s spine. “I wanna see what happens.” he said.  

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” 

“What he’ll do next.” 

“Huh?” 

“How far he’ll go.”

Kenma rubbed his forehead, exasperated. He almost felt bad for Tora, before remembering that he’s the most insufferable person on the planet. “So what you’re saying is you’re dragging this out on purpose just to watch him embarrass himself week after week trying to impress you.” 

Another nod. “It’s cute.” 

“For you! Not for us! It’s getting really pathetic to watch, Shibayama said it’s giving him second-hand anxiety. Also gross.” 

“Sorry.” He sounded about as sorry as that time he dumped a bucket of water over him and Tora in their first-year. That is to say not at all. 

Kenma just sighed. It was too early for this, and they still had a full morning practice to slog through. “You know Fukunaga, there’s something deeply wrong with you.” 

Before he could respond a voice echoed from the gym. “KENMA! SHOHEI! HELP SET UP THE NET YA JACKASSES!” 

“There’s your man.” Kenma grumbled.

“Yup!” 

“Eww, don’t agree with me.”  

Together they head towards the gym, silently agreeing to never mention this conversation again.

[historia-vitae-magistras]

41. “Sleep.  I’ll keep you safe.”

This one hurts so good

Unedited fic is unedited. Set in 1918, at the end of the war when Matt is trying to limp his way through the absolute slog of shit that was the proto-blitzkrieg of the last months of the war. Alfred is trying to pretend he's not avoiding trench duty at the Meuse–Argonne because of the trauma of the American Civil War. I was inspired by my Canadian great-grandfather coming home with American buttons on his coat instead of British or Canadian maple leaves that I inherited and made into earrings, lol.

October, 1918

“Give me a hand, Mattie, fuck.” Alfred cursed all the way up as the tailgate of the troop truck dropped. He was stuck on the single cobblestone that managed to give any traction under the three inches of mud. But it may as well have been concrete, for all he could leverage himself out. In the silvery light of the following truck waiting for its turn to round the corner of the checkpoint, Matt was only a hunched-over figure and a pair of gloved hands that grasped him by the wrists and managed to swing him free. His pack landed with a thud ten seconds before he did, and he was pulled roughly to his feet, and his ass finally found a bench. Almost instantly, the cold wood bit through his layers. Matt had disappeared down the benches and into the dark shelter of the canvas cover.

A‌ soldier, looking beat to shit, offered him a light, and he handed out cigarettes, bribing his way into goodwill. They were all lightly dusted in snow, and sleet battered collars turned up even as it got dryer.

“You’re under Lieutenant Williams, yeah? Where’d he get too?”

Weary soldiers nodded up under the cover.

“Mattie!” Alfred handed his cigarette to another man and cupped two hands over his mouth to shout over the engines. “What’re you avoiding me for? Get your sorry ass down here before I‌ start telling embarrassing stories about you.”‌

No response, no movement. Soldiers looked confused.

“Well, kiddo, guess I’m just going to have to start telling folks about—”

“Just what the fuck is so important—”‌ Matt appeared, just like that, steadying himself on the shoulder of one of his men. They glanced up, a little protective, a little annoyed. Alfred didn’t register it. Matt was a trembling pillar, his face a bright, sharp point above his uniform like a flame over a candle dyed dark with soot.

“You look like shit.”‌ Alfred raised a hand to grab Mattie’s shoulder and he slapped the hand away with a dark expression. The message was clear. He was a leader here, an officer of the ‌British army, not Alfred’s baby brother. Another word and Alfred would be tossed off the back of the truck to enforce the silence.

"Don't use me as a distraction to get out of combat." Matt snapped and disappeared back under the canvas, and Alfred let him. At least it was warmer there. He wasn't avoiding anything.

Soldiers stared at him, and he felt sweaty despite the fall air. He wasn't avoiding anything. Just because he'd had six planes shot out from under him in as many weeks and the thought of another stint in a trench made him want to die didn't mean he didn't care. He offered up cigarettes with a smile, bribing his own Americans up with him.

“Headed up to the line anyways,” He made small talk with the soldiers around him, as popular for his cigarette supply as he was for the chocolate constantly in his coat pockets. Some of them were Americans, volunteering before the US joined the war. Boys from New York, Wisconsin, and other places had easily slid across the border without needing real paperwork. The convoy slid north on the icy roads, following the advance to leapfrog ahead of the infantry currently on the front line and pushing forward to relieve the men presently fighting their way back into Belgium. He dozed between them, one of them. He didn't much like his own under a British flag, but it felt... Solid somehow, that it was with Matt. At least it wasn't the sour old fart. He was thinking about Christmas when he was startled awake.

He awoke to coughing. Everyone had a bit of one, the rough soldier’s coughs that everyone had at some point. But this was horrible, and it was constant, drawing into someone’s lungs. And he recognized it. Alfred was instantly on his feet, weaving through the legs of sleepy men. He flung open a canvas flap and took the lantern swinging on the canvas, support in hand.

Matt was sitting, barely supported between two soldiers, his helmet off, the pale of before replaced with a violent flush, mouth open to breathe, trying to suck in air. His chin was tucked into his chest, and the coughing had not stopped.

“You don’t look so good, sir.” One of the sergeants said. Matt looked up.

“Just cold.” He said, trying to smile. “Everyone’s just cold. We’ll get moving and warm up, eh?”

The laugh he forced just turned into more coughing. Alfred stood there, lantern in hand. The soldiers around Matt looked protective, staring at him like he was an enemy they needed to hide their vulnerable commander from. Then, one sidled up to him. A boy from Wisconsin with a crop of ruddy curls. He pat Alfred on the arm and knew instantly he was a mechanic’s son from Green Bay, nestled right against Canada’s belly on the Great Lakes.

“We took the edge of a gas shell last week, and he’s been coughing like that since. Won’t listen to anyone and get a rest because there’s a shortage of officers.”

“Christ’s sake,” Alfred muttered. He sidled between bodies and inserted himself between his brother and one sergeant. He popped Matt’s helmet on and got close. The professional kind of close, resisting the urge to cradle Matt like he had their entire lives.

“There’s a casualty clearing half a mile up the road. Get fed, get dry, get some sober sack time, and I’ll make sure I get you in a goddamn staff car and back up the line before they’re assaulting anything, all right?‌ Hand to God, I‌ will get you back up here if you get some fucking rest.”

Matt was still, sweating now and fading to pale. He was shaking. And then he nodded.

“Hallelujah, you stupid bastard.” Alfred muttered.

He got Matt down the end of the truck as it jolted along, hands under his brother’s arms. His coat flapped open, and Alfred batted it away from him, annoyed.

“Button your fucking coat before you get pneumonia.”‌

A deep, curdled-chest cough was his response.

“Can’t.” Matt gasped. “Got caught on a bit of wire while we were digging funk holes, tugged right off.”

Alfred sighed.

“Okay, you poor dumb fuck. Give it here.”

Matt looked confused, and Alfred resisted the urge to feel his forehead. Instead, he shrugged his great coat off.

“Swap me.” He said. Matt just stared. Alfred huffed.

“You’re freezing.”

“I’m used to it.” He said and crossed his arms over his unfastened coat. “I‌ was fucking born cold, I’ll die cold, and there’s not fuck all anyone can do about it in between.”

“Except give you a decent fucking coat you melodramatic shit.” Alfred was this close to smacking upside the head. He felt guilty for even having the thought as Matt exploded into coughing again. He dipped forward, collapsing into the bench at the far end of the truck bed, and Alfred gripped him by the waist, suddenly frightened he’d vomit or tumble over the tailgate and into the mud-churned roads. He pulled him back and took the opportunity to pull his coat off and wrap him in the better American one. Matt glared the entire time, but words were constricted by the endless wheezing when he went to speak. Alfred shoved his arms into the coat sleeves and buttoned it up, the American eagles shining in the lantern light. Matt glared daggers for a split second before he dragged in an inhale so violent he gagged. Every other soldier in the truck looked away. Alfred's chest hurt just listening.

At the next crossroads, American Red Cross nurses half-staffed the Casualty Clearing Station, and Alfred gave their commander his best, crooked, beaming smile and a wink. They gave him one of the visitor’s huts with a stove, a corrugated roof and two cots with clean sheets. Matt could barely stay on his feet. The mud sucked at his boots, and Alfred hauled him along. He considered picking Matt up entirely but wasn’t fully convinced the brass knuckles he’d mailed Matt years back had been lost somewhere along the way and wouldn’t end up embedded in his kidneys. At least not the way Matt was glaring.

He deposited Matt on a bed, dumped water from the pitcher and wash basin into a tin pot resting on the stove and cranked the stove as high as he could. It’d been almost 200 years since he’d needed someone to boil water and strange herbal plants and shove him and all the steam it could produce under a blanket.

Matt immediately listed to the side like a poorly loaded plane.

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Alfred hadn’t even sat down yet. “Don’t be stubborn. Just breathe some fucking steam until you don’t sound like you’re about to die.”

“Sorry,” Came a very faint croak.

He frowned and peeked under the wool blanket. Matt had collapsed onto his side, and his eyes were squeezed shut, breathing too shallow to make him cough, but it still didn’t sound like he was getting enough of it.

“Hey.” Alfred pushed what was left of Matt’s damp curls off his forehead. He looked so strange with hair this short. It’d been shorn when Francis gave him up, and the look on him still made him look just as abandoned, even fully grown and in British green. The thought was as gone as quickly as it came.

“You are burning.” Alfred pressed a hand to his forehead. Matt’s eyes hadn’t opened. He made a gentle sound of acknowledgment but didn’t speak, like it didn’t surprise him.

“Have you had the flu yet?”‌

“No.”

“Is this—?”‌

“No.” He said. “This just… happens sometimes. I‌ didn’t take the pills because I just— wanted some sleep.”

Still wearing Matt’s coat, Alfred stuck his hand in the pocket. Unmarked bottles of pills. He only recognized the contents of one of the bottles as aspirin.

“Do I‌ want to know what’s in these?”

“No.”

“Can I ask where you got them?”

“Zee, Uncle Alasdair, Dad.”

“Let me guess, none of them knew who else was giving you what. God I am going to ban everything when we get home. Temperance is just the begin—”

Alfred was feeling uncharacteristically like a responsible older brother, ready to give Matt a whole hellfire and brimstone Baptist lecture for a moment before Matt spoke.

“I’m just glad you’re here.” He found his brother looking up at him, gratitude as evident on his face as misery.

The heavy eyes and distinctly sick flush belied an expression Alfred didn't see often. It came fast on the heels of father's anger or Matt's fear dissolving. Grateful, instantly secure and safe usually snuggled up in Alfred's side, burrowed there against his own madness or the household's hostility. He blinked and Alfred felt horrible as he teared up and then exhaled, pushing away the emotion.

But there was still something small to him. “I miss you more when I’m this pathetic. I feel better.”

"I know." Alfred pushed sweaty hair off his feverish face and gave him a tap on the chin. "Get some sleep kiddo, you know I'll keep you safe."