#this violence against my penis is brought to you by:

[teethcore]

anyways now that i'm done beating my dick in an attempt to feel something besides dread, doubt, and self loathing,

[mikasasrippedtoenail]

Profanity and Misogyny

"Motherfucker", "cunt" , "bitch", "Whore" etc. are words that are so commonly used in colloquial language that one almost forgets the nuance attached to them. In almost every language there exist a myriad of swear words that refer to the degradation of the female vagina. A woman's sex is seen as her badge of shame and if she has control over her it then she has become astray from the path of the virtue.

"To insult a man, you insult his woman". I remember awkwardly shuffling in my seat, getting very uncomfortable when male peers would call each other "motherfucker" or "cunts" so casually. A woman much older than them was reduced to her sex, a tool to insult their friends. My sex- the organ that I was born with- was a sign of weakness. If you are meek or a coward you are a "pussy". In my language, I could never find the word equivalent of vagina, for it was too sexualised to use in society. Before I was even old enough to understand the workings of my body, a organ that I had been born with was left redundant to its function to please a man-villified by porn.

"Fuck" is seen as an insult because men consider sex a defiling act that takes away the dignity of the woman. Another misogynistic implication is the term "deflowering"; having sex takes away her innocence. After sex, the woman is not a human to them but a "cunt". The sexual paraphernalia of a woman is associated with purity. There is such a huge emphasis that is put on the concept of virginity, because it brings control to the patriarchal society over a woman's autonomy.

The sexual liberation of 70s was brought as a rebellion to these norms- young women were groomed into thinking that sex is empowering. Hookup culture also emerged as an aftereffect of the sexual liberation. The politics of a woman's sex is argued all day while the male penis remains as a neutral organ despite having been a tool to oppress women.

Sex is a completely neutral act of pleasure that is neither degrading nor empowering. However, this statement would only exist in a vacuum. Men use sex as a form of violence upon women-rape is a political tool. For women to take back control of their sexual autonomy, they must acknowledge the politics of sex-or lack thereof. Selectively choosing whom you are having sex with is the first step.

I implore everyone to stop using degrading profanities that have misogynistic connotations. When others around me --especially men-- use these swear words, I ask them why their insults always involve a woman to be degraded and humiliated. Not acting as an accompalice to patriarchy, not keeping quiet against the patriarchal violence and spreading word against misogyny is the best silent mutiny.

[turtletaubwrites]

I Won't Waste It ~ Part 7

Pairings: Zoro x Fem!Reader, Sanji x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2,738

This is part 7 of the Series 'We've All Got Needs,' linked below:

We've All Got Needs Masterlist

Ao3 Series Link

Summary: You set ground rules with the cook and the swordsman, and spend some much needed time with a friend. Zoro speaks up.

Rating/Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, Fem!Reader, 18+ Only, MDNI, Reader-Insert, Smut, Alcohol, Rough Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Swearing, Casual Sex, Overstimulation, Multiple Orgasms, Condoms, Shameless Smut, Hair Pulling, Aftercare, Friends With Benefits, Crewmates With Benefits, Relationship Discussions, Zoro is a dick at first, but he's learning

A/N: Alright friends, please don't get mad! Zoro can be a dick, but we love character growth over here! I hope you enjoy this installment, and the next will be posted tomorrow! 😊 (Y'all can thank medical leave for these quick updates, today was the first day I've left my house in a week, lol)

Scowling at your morning reflection, you leaned your elbows over the sink. I’m fucking beat.

You took a little extra time getting ready to try to make up for your exhaustion. Especially since breakfast was starting to feel like a battlefield. 

As you greeted everyone, you noticed Zoro leaning against the wall. He followed, and sat next to you. Robin’s knowing smirk made you bite your lip, looking down at your plate. 

Zoro kept a grip on your thigh under the table, while Sanji brought you a caramel latte with a flower design on the foam. Usopp had asked you something, but you couldn’t hear over the assault of attention, until your captain spoke up.

“I told you Usopp, Y/N’s sick. Chopper, can fevers make you go deaf?”

“Actually yes, a high fever can cause cochlear damage-”

“She’s not sick, she’s just been having trouble sleeping. Right, Y/N?”

Nodding, you gave Robin a grateful smile. 

Needing some air, you avoided their eyes and walked out on deck, yawning as you stretched.

“You’re coming to my room tonight.”

Zoro’s whispered demand tickled across your neck before you turned to face him. 

Yawning again, you leaned toward him.

“I can’t tonight, Zoro. I need to get some rest.”

Your breath hitched when you saw his eyes shift, and you took a small step back.

“What, now that cook treats you like a little princess, and you don’t want to fuck me?”

The sound of a lighter sparked behind him.

“I believe the lady told you she wanted a break, Marimo.”

Zoro spun, his fingers touching the handle of a sword.

“Fucking stop it, both of you. I’m not a piece of meat to fight over.”

Sanji looked at you with wide eyes, while Zoro clenched his jaw. You glared at him, stepping forward again. “And Zoro, I enjoy our time together, but there’s a line. You agreed to this, so speak up if you can’t handle it.”

Zoro’s lips pursed a bit, and it looked like he was grinding his teeth while you continued. 

“Clearly we need some ground rules.”

You sighed, walking over to the railing. You caught Nami waving from the crows nest, and you held in a laugh, grateful to know she was there.

When you turned around you could almost see the violence in the air between them

Oh fuck, what have I gotten myself into. 

“Okay, rule number one; no fighting over me. The whole point of this arrangement is to keep things casual, and I won’t put myself in the middle of your feud.”

Zoro's veins pulsed in his arms as he clenched his fists, and Sanji seemed to be desperately trying to ignore Zoro’s presence.

“Rule number two; no one gets their feelings hurt when I want to take a break. I’m fucking tired, and I’m not a doll you can use whenever you want.”

They both looked appalled, Sanji flashing hateful eyes toward Zoro as the swordsman swore, and started to apologize.

You held your hand out to stop them, and kept going, trying not to draw their eyes to the thumbs up waving from the crow’s nest.

“Rule number three; we need to come up with some sort of system to keep things fair. I don’t want to have to choose between you guys, and get caught in your pissing contest.”

Sanji looked at you with puppy dog eyes, while Zoro crossed his arms with his signature scowl. 

You paused for a moment, feeling exhausted.

“So, what’s the system?”

“Let her catch her breath, moss head.”

“You don’t know what she needs, waiter.”

“Guys, seriously? Stop.”

They had leaned toward each other, and you could practically see their hackles rise. 

But they went instantly silent at your words, and turned to face you.

You held in the shiver that ran through you at how these two powerful men just obeyed your command so quickly. 

“Let’s alternate. One day with Zoro, then the next day with Sanji. And I get to take breaks without you destroying the ship.”

Zoro kept scowling, and Sanji still looked like everything you said was magic. Again, you had to bite back laughter at these two ridiculous men.

“Plus! You can both sleep with other people too!”

The blank stares they both gave you made you pause for a minute. 

“... Okay then, good! Do we all agree to the terms?”

“Of course dear-“

“Sure-“

“Great! I’m going to get some work done.”

You practically ran away from them, chewing on the inside of your lip to keep from squealing. This is insane!

You didn’t want to spend the day in the kitchen making oils and tinctures until you’d seen Zoro again. They’d agreed to the rules, but you didn’t want to test his limit while he watched you spend the day with Sanji.

Instead, you spent it with Chopper. Now and then he’d share some interesting facts from his books while you were cataloging ointments, salves, and other supplies you’d made. Making sure they weren’t expired, and logging what you should make soon.

“We go through arnica cream like crazy, I’ll put that on our priority list.”

“Good thinking!”

It was so hard to be in a low mood around Chopper, and you found yourself smiling, even as you made your way through the hall to dinner. 

“Y/N.”

Zoro’s voice was low behind you, and you took a breath before turning to meet his eyes. He was looking everywhere but you, and you’d never seen him with his shoulders slumped like this.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I shouldn’t have talked to you like that.”

You stared, watching him struggle, clearly feeling shitty about this. 

“No, you shouldn't have.” 

You said it with a soft voice, but stayed firm. 

He nodded, meeting your eyes. 

“It won’t happen again. I’m sorry.”

You nodded, releasing a breath. 

“Thank you, Zoro. We can talk more tomorrow if you want. I’ll meet you in your room after dinner?”

Zoro’s lip twitched just a bit, and that tiny smile made you feel at ease. He nodded, heading into the galley.

After dinner, you walked toward your quarters in a daze. 

Nami caught your eye in the hall, and she flashed a bottle of wine from under her jacket while nodding toward her room. 

You closed the door behind you both, then mock hissed at her. 

“You thief.”

“Former! Now I’m a pirate. And pirates plunder.”

She took a swig before handing it over.

“I figured you could use some company that isn’t trying to stick a flag in you.”

“Oh, you are so right.”

You probably should have gone to bed early, but you had needed this time with your friend. You’d managed to spend a decent amount of time not talking or thinking about boy drama, but it inevitably came back up.

And this time it was all your fault. Maybe I’ve had too much wine.

“Soo, Nami?”

“Uh huh?”

She’d been digging in her closet, but twisted around to face you. 

“Would you, uh… Would you want to join an arrangement with either of them?”

Her mouth fell open, and she laughed loudly before clamping her hand over her face and sitting next to you. 

“I’m sorry, I didn't mean to laugh like that.”

You were laughing yourself, leaning your head into your hands.

“No, it’s totally fine. This whole thing is fucking ridiculous.”

“No, it’s not that, I just…”

Her tone had gone soft, almost serious, and your laughter faded. 

“I just, I don't know. I've never been interested in that. I’ve tried before, but-” 

She glanced at you, then shrugged before staring up at the ceiling.

“I know it sounds weird. I love to hear about it, but I just… don’t want to do it myself. With anyone. If that makes sense.” 

You smiled at your friend, touching your hand to hers. 

“It makes sense, Nami. I don’t think that’s weird at all.”

She beamed at you, and you felt shivers of warmth for your friend.

“I’m just bummed you won’t be able to carry some of this load for me.”

“Ha, ew! I don’t want any of that load, you can keep their junk all to yourself!”

Finally crashing in your room later, you felt so filled with happiness that you didn’t even think about tomorrow. 

Luckily tomorrow included the boys on their best behavior, although they were still vying for your attention during meals. 

I need to set another rule for that.

You felt Sanji’s eyes on you as you left after dinner, and shivered as you made your way to Zoro’s quarters. 

He let you in, as if he’d been waiting behind the door. You half expected him to pin you against the wall. Instead he led you in, sitting on the floor across from his chair. You took a seat, barely breathing. This was not Zoro’s typical stoic silence. Your knees fought as you tried not to bounce them. 

He started to speak, then coughed, clearing his throat a couple times. 

“I’m really sorry, Y/N.”

“I know-”

“I’m not good at this.”

He gestured vaguely between you, then looked away. You chewed your lip not to smile. 

“I just. I like you. And I like what we’ve been doing together.”

“I’d say ‘like’ is an understatement, Needy.”

You caught yourself teasing his own words back at him before you could stop it. You had a second of panic, worried you’d pushed him too far.

Zoro looked up at you, his face tilted with that evil smile that made your pulse race. 

He seemed to be fighting to keep his voice even, but the heat kept building.

“I promise to do better. Can you forgive me?”

Your breath was high in your chest as you felt the air shift around you. 

“Yes, Zoro. I forgive you.”

He lifted onto his knees, coming only a fraction closer to you. 

“Can I make it up to you?”

You gave a small gasp, and his smile of satisfaction made your eyes flutter shut for a moment.

“Y-Yes, please.”

Zoro was suddenly kneeling between your legs in his chair, hand fisting in your hair. He gripped you hard enough to make you whimper, loving the feeling of him taking control. He licked along your neck, sucking and biting your earlobe as his free hand gripped its fingers into your thigh. He pulled your hair even tighter, and you cried out for him as he chuckled in your ear. 

“I knew you needed me to touch you like this. You need me to hurt you, just a little bit. Don’t you, Y/N?”

You couldn’t keep your back from arching, and he used the hand on your thigh to pull you roughly until you were sitting on the edge of the chair, quivering for him. 

“Should I repeat the question, Needy?”

His dangerous words had your body aching, wetness pooling between your thighs. 

“No. I, uh-”

“What do you need?”

He breathed those words against your lips as his eyes burned into yours. 

You could barely hear your desperate whisper as you answered him.

“I need you to hurt me, Zoro. Use me, please.”

He forced his tongue into your mouth. His kiss felt like he was taking from you, and you moaned into him. 

You fell back into the chair as he released you. Your eyes rolled back in your head as he pulled himself out of his pants, dragging a condom over his long, twitching cock. 

“Wrists or throat?”

You looked back at his eyes, his growled words not registering. 

“Pick one.”

“Uh, wri-wrists,” you whispered, almost panicked.

“Get on your knees.”

You joined him on the ground, heart pounding. 

Zoro tore at your pants, dragging them down just above your knees before grabbing you by the hair again. 

“Beg me.”

You almost went limp, his grip in your hair keeping you upright.

“P-Please fuck me, Zoro. Please let me feel your cock-”

Zoro shoved your head down to the side, and you caught yourself on your hands and knees. He moved behind you, and you whined. Needing him, dripping for him. 

Feeling his length dragging along your skin, you begged even more. He leaned over you, grabbing and pulling you by the arms until you were upright, flush against the front of his body. He nipped along your neck while you shook.

“I’m gonna give you what you need. And I'm gonna take what I want. And you’re gonna keep your fucking mouth shut while I do it. Does that work for you, Needy?”

“Y-Yes, please, Zoro. I need you.”

He growled, and you gasped as he forced your arms behind your back. He pushed you forward, but held your wrists in one of his strong hands while he circled your entrance. 

You chewed your tongue, panting with pain and pleasure as he slammed into you, so fucking deep. He used your arms like handles, pulling you while you whimpered, trying so hard not to scream. 

Tears were streaming down your face, and you were overwhelmed, overpowered. Your pants still trapped at your thighs created so much pressure as he fucked you from this angle. 

“That’s right, Needy. You want me to fucking use you. That’s why you’re being so good and quiet for me, huh?”

You nodded for him, whimpering as he shoved into you even harder.

“I can be that for you, Needy. I can be the one that makes you feel this way. Fuuck… Your pussy loves being used, doesn't it, baby?”

Tiny sobs left your lips as your body proved him right. 

The angle he was holding you at was wearing you down, but he held your arms where he wanted you, forcing himself into your body as it tried to go limp. 

You came on his cock, tears and drool leaving your face instead of screams. And he didn’t stop. 

Zoro pushed you forward, using an arm to catch you before you hit the floor. 

Then he shoved you face to the floor while he kept ramming into you. 

“Finger yourself, Needy. I’m gonna take what I need now.”

Moaning, you tried to move your arms, but they were still almost numb from his grip. You didn’t need to though. The new angle, and Zoro’s groans above you brought you close again. 

“Fuck, I know what this needy pussy wants, huh, Y/N?”

He fisted your hair as his thrusts became erratic. You moaned your ‘yes’ for him, writhing under his control. 

“What do you need?”

Panting, you begged while he brought you again, your pussy milking him.

“I need your cock, Zo-Zor-”

You had to stop talking or you would have screamed. You shook under him, body bucking while you came so fucking hard. Even with your own body convulsing, you felt Zoro pulsing inside you, loving the moans he let out as he released. 

You lay together, gasping and twitching, until the sensations were too intense and he pulled away, cleaning himself off while you tried to relearn how to breathe. 

Zoro came back to you with a towel, cleaning you off before rolling you onto your back, and helping you slide your pants back on. 

His face was unreadable, and you stopped yourself from asking if he was okay. He promised he’d use his words. I can’t let myself worry about his every expression, it’ll go too far. 

You swallowed as you tried to listen to your own advice. 

Then he sat against the wall again, dragging you to lay across his chest. Your breath froze as he gently stroked your arm while he rested his head against the wall to look at the ceiling. 

You didn’t know what to say. This was the most awkward moment you’d felt with him so far, and you were trying so fucking hard to not take responsibility for this grown mans feelings. 

“Thank you.”

You gingerly pushed yourself up, sitting against the wall beside him so you wouldn’t have to look up at him. 

“For what?”

He met your eyes, his lips twitching into a small smile. 

“For giving me another chance. I won’t waste it.”

Your lips parted as you stared into his deep, dark eyes. His words sounded so soft, so genuine. Your breath seemed caught in a strange moment, like you were somehow separate from the room you were in. Zoro didn’t look away. 

“You’re welcome.”

Thank you for reading! 💜

TurtleTaub Fanfic Masterlist

Part 8

Buy me a coffee ☕🙏🏼

Tag List: @astheni-a

A/N: I'd love to hear your thoughts on Zoro here. 💚 I hope you enjoyed the ride!

[jeonjungkookenthusiast1997]

Bound by Blood - Han Jisung

Summary: Y/N is currently living with her roommate Han Jisung, who also happens to be a vampire. When Han doesn't come out of his room for a couple days Y/N begins to worry, what will she find when she enters his room to check on him?

Do not repost or translate my work! This work of fiction is intended for 18+ audiences only.

Content Warnings: vampire Han, blood loss, Han feeds on reader, Han bites her multiple times but she likes it dw, nipple play, dry humping, oral (f. recieving), fingering, penis in vagina sex, position switch, doggy style, rough sex, reader squirts, very slight choking, cream pie, unprotected sex, pet names (baby, sweetheart, jagi), swearing, mild violence warning for the biting, soft and teasing Han, some very mild angst due to the nature of the situation, best friend!Han, roommate!Han, friends to lovers.

Word Count: 4K

Han Jisung is one of Y/N’s best friends in the whole world, Han Jisung is the ultimate joker in the pack, always working to make his loved ones smile and Han Jisung is a vampire.

Unfortunately for Han, he turned just a few days after starting university at a house party. Fortunately for Han he was found and taken in by Bang Chan who brought Han into his steadily growing family. During his long days at university he eventually found a lifelong friend in Y/N, the pair becoming so close that Chan was able to trust her enough to watch over his newest brother. That's why Han is currently living with Y/N as when he was living alone he wasn’t feeding properly leaving him in a weakened and incredibly vulnerable state.

Y/N is currently sitting on her bed reading a book when she realises Han hasn't left his room in a few days which is unusual for her social butterfly of a best friend, usually you can find Han firmly attached at the woman's hip, so getting nervous she gives his bedroom door a few soft rasps "Hannie? you good in here?" Y/N waits a few moments but is greeted with silence "Han?" she calls out again but again gets no answer, she sighs as she shakes her head "hope your decent cause I'm coming in either way" she gives him another few minutes, in case he needs to throw on some clothes, then enters his room. Surprised by the darkness of the room, given the fact that it's midday, Y/N tries to joke around with her friend "I know you're a vampire Hannie but do you need to live in complete darkness?" As her eyes adjust to the light change she notices Han is laid on his bed with his back facing the door, his body curled into a foetal position.

Han's eyes flutter open slowly at the sound of Y/N's voice, though she can't see this action, her voice is clearly laced with concern though she tries to get a response from him "tryna sleep" he grumbles as he brings his sheets further over his body, his words make Y/N frown "what's going on Han? you haven't left your room in days. Have you even fed?" she walks to slowly walk towards his slumped over body "no'' he states simply, his voice barely above a whisper as he lifts his head for a moment but flops back down on the bed "shit Hannie no wonder you're like this'' she runs over to him, her hand feeling his forehead as a cold sweat grips his body "you need to feed Han, now" she tries to move his body so that he's at least facing her. Han's body is practically limp in Y/N's arms, not putting up any resistance against his friend as she encourages him to move himself to face her "can't Y/N '' she pushes his sweat soaked fringe out of his eyes ``what do you mean you can't? don't you have some blood bags in the fridge?" worry is starting to grip her as she pulls her phone out to scroll through her contacts searching for someone to call for help, though who do you call when your vampire roommate seems to be sick.

Han doesn't answer her at first just shaking his head letting out a pained whine "I-it's not the same... last blood bag I fed from made me feel queasy" she stops to think for a moment, out of options she can think of for help "what do I do? Who do I call? tell me and I'll try my best to help okay?" He tries to nod but hardly has the energy to do so "call...Channie hyung..." he manages to croak out before his eyelids close, drifting off to sleep. Her hands have started to shake as she reaches out to take hold of his phone, she unlocks the device and flicks through his contacts until she reaches Bang Chan's number. After a few rings Chan picks up the phone with almost a sigh of relief, she thinks, as he speaks

Bang Chan: "Han? Where have you been? you haven't been answering our texts?"

Y/N: "Chan? It's me, Y/N, something's wrong with Han!"

Bang Chan: "Y/N? What do you mean something's wrong?"

Y/N: "He's sweaty, not talking or moving much, hasn't come out of his room in days. I asked him if he had fed but he said the blood bags are making him feel sick" she rants off his symptoms as she gets more worried by the second

Bang Chan: "shit why didn't he tell us this was happening? We could have helped him before it got to this" He clears his throat to make sure her attention was on his voice "listen to me Y/N, he needs fresh blood yeah? He needs it from the vein. Even if it's only a few drops to get his body moving then you need to ring me so we can get him back to his usual self"

She stutters over her words as she panics

Y/N: "how am I meant to get that?!"

Suddenly Han's eyes crack open as he groans "Y-Y/N? what did hyung say?" her eyes move to watch Han as she bids Chan a quick goodbye and thank you before hanging up "he said you need blood... fresh blood and to call him after so he can check on you" she gulps as her hands shake in her lap "you need to feed from me Hannie'' his throat dries up at her words "I can't… last time I fed from the vein was before we moved in together" his hands reach out to weakly hold onto her own "I'll hurt you, can't feed from you. I won’t" his eyes scrunch shut in pain as Y/N huffs out in annoyance at his resistance "Han you could start to desicate if you don't feed" she pushes her wrist against his lips but he tries to push her away with a shake of his head "I don't care" he chokes out between pained gasps ``I care more about not hurting you than feeding right now... I'm sorry but I won't do it" Y/N pushes her wrist further into his lips brushing her skin against his teeth ``please Han'' his eyes close as he inhales her scent, it's intoxicating and familiar causing a deep whine to push past his lips "you don't have to do this for me Y/N" she tries to reassure her friend with her voice as she speaks softly "I know Han, it'll only hurt for a moment and you need this. I trust you" she smiles as she nods to him.

Han hesitates for a moment as he looks at her face for any sign of hesitation before pressing his lips to her skin in a soft kiss still feeling hesitant at the thought of feeding from her. As gently as he can he allows his fangs to sink into the soft flesh of her wrist breaking the seal of her skin, warm blood flows into his mouth making him moan out as her blood nourishes his body. A blush sears across her cheeks at the noises he makes as the red liquid clings to his lips and chin, Y/N bites her lip to hold back the hiss of pain threatening to break free as his fangs bite into her skin. When they first started living together Han had answered all her questions about vampirism with enthusiasm. Smiling as he told her that vampire bites often become immensely pleasurable for both parties once the initial pain has subsided, he had bragged it was one of the few perks of his condition and right now Y/N was hoping he hadn't been lying.

Han’s eyes are shut as he savours the taste of her blood, his mind fuzzy with the lack of substance in his veins but her blood is enough to bring him back some lucidity. After a few moments he retracts his fangs from her wrist, licking over the two small holes to help them heal, another neat trick vampires have is that their saliva can help the human body heal quicker, he also cleans up her arm licking away any blood that had fallen "did you take enough?" She asks a little dazed as heat starts to build in her chest and core "should be enough for now, it'll keep me going until I can talk to Chan" Han goes to stand from his resting position but Y/N surprises him by pushing him back down "take more" she urges. Han groans at the sight of her pushing him down "Y/N please let me up" he pleads, tears forming in his dark eyes "I can't do this...I don't have the willpower to keep telling you no" he tries to stand but she pushes him down again, this time climbing onto his lap. His eyes shine as he looks at her face "what are you doing Y/N?" she gulps slightly as she rests her hands at his neck, her fingers toying with the baby hairs at the base of his head "I don't know" she whispers before using her hold on his head to tug him forward until his lips bump against her neck "please" she whimpers. He groans as he nuzzles into her neck allowing his fangs to break the skin, she tastes just as delicious as the first time. His hands glide up her back then slide down resting on her hips as he pulls her body close to his own.

A soft moan flutters past her lips as she tilts her head back giving him more room to feed, Han retracts his fangs again causing her to whine in displeasure. He dutifully licks over the small holes before moving down to her collarbone placing a few soft kisses on the skin before sinking his fangs into her flesh making them both moan out loudly, Y/N's hips start subconsciously rocking against his own. His tongue swirls over the wound ensuring that it's clean, he places a few more kisses to her skin before moving his head back to look at his handy work. Seeing her skin littered with his bites and marks causes his chest to tighten, Y/N tries to pull his head back to her body by his hair but he squeezes her hips tightly "w-we should stop Y/N before this goes too far. You aren't in your right mind, my bites are-" she rolls her hips again as she feels something hard poking her thigh, Han's cheeks flush with embarrassment and need "want you Hannie. It has nothing to do with you feeding from me" Han lets out a shaky breath as he nuzzles his nose against her throat kissing the bites he's left there possessively "we can't... you're my friend. What if you regret it after and never talk to me again" his words trail off into a whine of pain "don't wanna be just your friend" her hands move from his neck to his cheeks as she rubs soothing circles into the delicate skin "that will never happen Hannie" she smiles as she gently kisses his lips.

His eyes flutter shut as she presses her lips to his, his body moulding into hers almost instinctively. His grip on her hips tightens as he kisses her back, his heart swelling with affection and need "tell me right away if you want me to stop, 'kay?" she places another kiss against his lips to stop him from rambling on about her safety "I trust you" she repeats her words from earlier. Something inside Han snaps at her words as he suddenly growls, using his enhanced strength to change their positions with Han now on top of Y/N. His hands grip the bed sheets near her head as he looks into her eyes. A squeak leaves Y/N’s lips as her back hits his bed, Han's strong hands grab the hem of her shirt and he gives it a sharp tug making the cloth shred against his fingers. As soon as more skin is revealed his lips descend landing on her breasts, he places gentle kisses over the exposed skin before biting down on the supple flesh causing soft moans to spill from Y/N's lips.

The next article of clothing to go, Han decides, is her bra. Han easily rips the silky material in half throwing it onto the floor with a satisfied smile, Han licks up a trickle of blood flowing from her breast making sure his saliva coats the two little holes before his lips descend onto her nipples.

Han gives each nipple a quick kiss before licking over the hardening bud as Y/N starts to rock her hips against his, he groans as his face nuzzles into her breasts. Han continues to work her nipples, his lips and tongue rubbing over them alternating between soft kisses and light sucking making Hayley moan out softly as her hands move to run through his hair tugging gently as she enjoys the attention "Hannie" Hayley whines as she tugs his soft locks harder "stop teasing me" the wet patch quickly growing on her pantries shows how riled up she is, his bites and kisses working to make heat flow through her veins "m'not teasin' sweetheart" he groans out as he nips at her nipples, his hips thrust up into her clothed pussy rubbing against her body each time he rocks his hips forwards "fuck baby~ I can smell you, can almost taste how wet you are f'me" Han's words start to trail off as his mind grows fuzzy, almost drunk on her sweet blood.

Y/N shifts her body slightly, which is still trapped under Han's, and gives his hair a firm tug "fuck me Hannie please" Han groans at her words "fuck, say that again sweetheart" his hips start to move on their own, thrusting up into her clothed sex "I need you baby, you're ready for me I can smell it" Y/N whimpers at his lewd words "please fuck me baby" her hands reach down to start pulling at her pants though she struggles with his weight on top of her own.

Han smirks at her begging and gives her a sweet kiss before pushing himself back, he quickly tugs down his pants then returns to Y/N's body. Han pulls her pants down slowly, teasingly letting his fingers trail over her bare thighs "Fuck baby" he breathes out as he looks at her soaked panties "so wet for me" Han moves down to examine the soiled clothing. Han presses his nose against the large wet spot inhaling her sweet scent making him groan lowly as Y/N covers her face embarrassed "Hannieee" Y/N whines with her hands still covering her eyes a pink hue splashed across her cheeks, her cute behaviour makes Han giggle "sorry baby, couldn't resist when you smell sooo good" Han pulls the underwear down watching in rapture as her slick sticks to the flimsy material.

Y/N keeps her hands over her face as she slowly spreads her legs so that Han can see how his actions have affected her "Spread them wider love, let me get a better look and stop hiding your pretty face," Han commands as he watches Y/N's reactions, she slowly drops her hands and spreads her thighs as wide as she can. Han bites his lip smirking in satisfaction as he watches her juices slip down her thighs, he can't help himself but place one last bite against the meat of her thigh causing her body to tremble as pleasure shoots up her limbs. Once he has cleaned up the wound he moves his tongue to her folds giving them a tentative lick, his tongue rubs over her sensitive nub as he groans at her addictive taste "don't know what I prefer jagi, your sweet blood or your sweet pussy" he adds a finger watching as it slides easily into her pussy.

Y/N gasps out as his long fingers slip through her folds, her thighs twitch and her head rolls back "don't need to be prepped baby" she moans out "I can take it, please" her fingers weave through his hair as she tries to pull him upwards "I hear you jagi, just let me have a taste" he returns his skilled tongue to her pussy as he licks up the trails of slick coating her thighs and folds, the tip of his tongue tracing small circles around her sensitive clit, he adds another finger into her throbbing walls pumping his fingers into her roughly "waited so long to taste you, gonna enjoy every minute" Han moans as he sucks her clit into his mouth.

Y/N moans out loudly as he sucks on her clit, the hold she has on his hair tightening as her thighs close on his face "fuck Han, who knew you gave such good head" she teases as her hips jerk up. Han growls as his fingers fuck her faster "I could've been between your thighs every night if you'd asked me baby, not my fault you don't know how to use your big girl words" he smirks as she rolls her eyes pulling his head towards her pussy "s-shut up Han" she grits her teeth as she feels her stomach muscles tighten "Hannie I'm getting close... wanna cum on your cock" she tries to shift her hips away from his face, pulling his head back to stop her approaching orgasm.

Han hums as he pulls away, looking into her eyes he licks his fingers clean moaning at the taste "definitely prefer your pussy sweetheart" he winks as he climbs over her body. He leans down giving her a sweet kiss, his tongue slips into her mouth as they share her taste "ready jagi?" he asks slowly, his hand gives his hard cock a few quick rubs as he waits for her answer. Y/N nods her head quickly "ready Han" she spreads her legs as he settles himself between them comfortably, he rests his forehead against her own as he rubs his cock against her slick a few times coating his cock in her wetness before he starts to glide into her walls. He starts slowly pushing in an inch at a time to not overwhelm her with his size, they both groan as he stretches her out to fit around his thick length.

Han looks into her eyes as he bottoms out in her tight warmth, he takes a minute just to enjoy the feeling of fullness and closeness. His face rests against her collarbone placing kisses to the skin finds there as he gives them both a moment to adjust to the tightness of her pussy, he starts placing kisses to each of his bites making her shiver "fuck baby you feel so good" he pulls out slowly dragging his cock along her wet walls on his way out, letting her feel every inch before he pushes back in quickly setting a rough pace.

Y/N wraps her arms around his neck as she pulls him close to her body, moaning into his ear as he pounds into her pussy his hands holding his body above her own "s'big Hannie fuck" she babbles wrapping her legs around his waist. Han groans out as he picks up the pace, his hips moving quicker in a rolling motion to fill her pussy with each thrust "you feel that baby? feel how I'm filling you up? fuck..." he groans as his eyes drop to watch as he re-enters her "s'like you were fucking made for me" he almost whispers the words come out so softly as the force of Han's thrusts rocks his bed into his wall, pounding rhythmically as moans fill the room. Y/N lifts her hips trying to match his thrusts as heat starts to coil in her stomach.

Han leans forward, capturing her lips in a searing kiss as he plunges deeper into her warmth with every thrust. He lifts her hips to hit deeper aiming for her g spot, he feels the walls of her pussy tighten and contract around his cock in response to each stroke. His hips start to rock faster grunting into her mouth as he moves, Han bites her lip gently tugging her bottom lip into his mouth before pulling away. He gives her a teasing smirk as he pulls his length from her walls making her whine in protest, Y/N is about to voice her frustration when Han suddenly flips her onto her belly "lift your hips jagi" he orders as she scrambles to get into position. Once she's bent over with her ass in the air he grabs her hips tightly, pushing his length back into her waiting walls as he finds his pace thrusting roughly the new angle making Y/N moan into the mattress.

Y/N's fingers reach forward gripping onto Han's bedsheets as his hips piston into her causing her body to rock forward, her moans being swallowed as her face tucks into her chest. Han keeps his grip on her hips tight as he thrusts faster, his increased strength and speed causing his bed frame to knock against the walls shaking them slightly "don't hide your sounds from me Y/N" he grunts his head falling forward with sweat sticking his hair to his forehead. As Han rocks Y/N faster her tits brush against his sheets causing rough spikes of pleasure to grip her sensitive nipples, steady whines and moans leave her tired throat "s-sorry Hannie, just feels s'good" her brows knit together as her mouth drops open in pleasure, her hands struggle to keep her weight up as Han pounds into her harder.

Han's thrusts start to become erratic and shaky as his thighs tremble "gonna c-cum soon Y/N...baby need you to cum first yeah?" his breathing coming out laboured. Han brushes the fingertips of one hand across her back and down her thighs moving and caressing her plush skin until he reaches her swollen clit whilst his other hand keeps a steady hold on her hip. Han's finger traces sloppy circles around Y/N's abused clit causing choked moans to fall from her pretty lips, with each glide of his fingers through her wetness her walls clamp down on his dick "m'close... close... close Hannie, please... fuck s-so close" Y/N mumbles as her hips push back into Han's rough thrusts as she becomes desperate for release.

A low growl rumbles through Han's chest as he wraps his hand around Y/N's neck using it as leverage to pull her body upright, his hips cant forward as quickly as he can as his hand tightens his hold on her neck ever so slightly. Han's other hand doesn't stop its work on her clit bringing her to the brink of orgasm, her moans echo through the room as her thighs shake with the strain of the position Han has her in. With her mind almost blank from the intense pleasure Han licks a stripe up her neck tracing the hickies he left there with his tongue, he feels her quickened pulse under his tongue the temptation strong as his own high nears Han bears his fangs running them down her neck and when she doesn't stop him he sinks his fangs into her throat one last time plunging them both straight into orgasm. Tears stream down Y/N's cheeks as pleasure shoots through her veins, Han's bite intensifying the feeling, as Han bites down harder a loud cry leaves Y/N's throat as clear liquid shoots from her pussy coating the bed in her cum. Watching Y/N squirt makes Han whine loudly as his own orgasm takes over, making his body freeze as he feels Y/N's walls gripping him tightly, milking every drop of cum straight into her pussy. It takes all Han's strength to keep them both upright as they finish their highs.

Han pants heavily as he holds Y/N upright his thighs burning from the strain, he brings his head forward and softly licks the wounds on her neck then he moves his lips to her cheeks his tongue peaking out to lick away the tears from her cheeks pulling away as she begins to regain control of her breathing. His fingers trail over her body affectionately as he nuzzles his nose into her throat inhaling their mixed scents. Y/N hums happily as her hand reaches back to tangle her fingers into his soft locks, she only gets to enjoy the tender moment for a few breathes before Han is giggling against her neck "can't believe I made you squirt, so fucking hot" he mumbles clearly proud causing Y/N to groan loudly "really Han?" This only causes the vampire to laugh louder as she pulls his softening cock from her walls flopping down on his bed avoiding the significant wet patch left on his bed.

Han flops down on the bed next to Y/N smiling at her as he continues to chuckle "I'm not sorry, you were fucking amazing Jagi" he says with a mischievous smile as he wiggles his eyebrows at her, Han gives her a peck on the cheek before he pulls her body into his side. Y/N groans softly while hiding her face in his arms "Haaan stop" she giggles as a blush flushes her cheeks a pretty shade of pink, she rests her chin on his chest as she bites her lip softly "Jagi huh? didn't think you'd keep it up after you came honestly" she watches his face closely as she waits for his response. Han pretends to think for a moment with a big smile on his face "mmhm your mine now baby, couldn't go back to just friends after that. Could you?" his thumb comes up to brush against her cheeks as he leans down placing a soft kiss against her lips. Shaking her head Y/N smiles kissing him back just as softly, she wraps her arms around his neck as she pulls her body even closer to his own "after we get cleaned up, you should probably call Chan and let him know you're actually okay, you know like he asked" Y/N laughs throwing her head back as Han's eyes widen mumbling a quiet "shit!" as he jumps out of his bed to find his phone, Y/N shakes her head laughing at him as she pulls his covers over her body keeping the cold temperature of the room at bay.

[bellaxgiornata]

Falling For the Devil [Part four: "The Night You Almost Kissed"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: You come home drunk from Marci's bachelorette party and Daredevil/Matt decides to pay a visit. The two of you almost kiss.

Or

You imagine what is under Matt's Daredevil suit and drunkenly picture him in a red stripper's thong a few times too many. Also, screw that water glass in particular.

[Series of one-shots about Reader meeting, falling for, and dating Matt Murdock.]

Warnings: 18+ for this series; contains humor, fluff, romance, angst, smut (like...a lot of it later in the series), language, some violence

Word Count: 3.1k

a/n: Probably the last of these installments I will get up onto tumblr for today! There are a total of 74 of these bad boys up on my AO3 account, but I'm trying to put them onto tumblr now (which is a huge project...)

After locking the apartment door behind you, you leaned against it and slipped off your heels–which were barely big enough to even be deemed heels, really. They were not even three inches because you and drinking in heels did not mix.

Drunkenly shuffling your way through your living room to your kitchen, the room slightly spinning, you raked your hands through your hair, grimacing when you felt how knotted and sticky the ends were. You were pretty sure you’d had half of one of Marci’s friends' fruity drinks accidentally spilled on you at the strip club. 

And as for the strip club, well that had ultimately been an overall incredibly uncomfortable experience for you and Karen both. The two of you had agreed–while throwing a few bills at the men who quite honestly deserved it because you couldn’t even imagine your hips doing half the things theirs were–that men in shiny thongs dancing and trying to thrust their dicks at you was in no way appealing. Though she had posed a very interesting question when she’d asked if you’d have found it sexy had it been Matt on the stage ripping the fireman outfit off and dressed in a small red thong instead. And the image it had put forth in your mind was not exactly sexy, but it was also not exactly not , either.

But what didn’t help was that you had gotten the stereotypical matching bachelorette party shirts to all wear tonight. They were Cards Against Humanity themed, Marci’s being the black card with some saying along the lines of ‘This bachelorette party was brought to you by____’ and the white card shirt you happened to be wearing solely said ‘Lots of penis jokes.’ Which…had led to a very interesting night at the bars and strip club when you were not near the group because out of context, well…you’d definitely attracted a lot of attention. The strippers loved it though, unfortunately for you, and they happened to freely offer up lots of penis jokes while gyrating theirs in front of you.

Karen had fared infinitely better. Her shirt had just said the word ‘shots’ repeatedly. Which had led to her getting a lot of free shots from guys this evening.

You reached up into the cabinet by your sink, pulling out a clean glass and then filling it up under the faucet. Your mouth was dry from the plethora of alcohol you’d downed and all the shouting over loud music you’d been doing all night. You brought the cool glass to your lips and quickly drank down the entire glass in a matter of seconds, the water soothing and hydrating on its way down. And then you slid it back under the sink, filling it up again as your eyes briefly closed and a faint headache began in your temples.

Your eyes snapped open a few moments later as you felt water pouring over your hand from the overflowing glass. “Shit,” you muttered to yourself, turning off the faucet. Very carefully you tried to bring the glass to your mouth and your mouth to the glass at the same time, the water quite literally teeming at the edge. Two sharp knocks at your window startled you and the water abruptly splashed down the front of your shirt as you startled. Your shoulders slumped as you blew out a breath, setting the half-empty glass on the counter and trying to peel the damp shirt from your skin. And then you giggled.

“Lots of wet penis jokes now,” you mused, another round of giggles escaping.

Another two knocks at your window caused you to jump again, the amusement quickly dying as your inebriated brain realized that it was probably Matt at your fire escape. Confused, you dropped your damp shirt and the material uncomfortably clung to your stomach as you slowly made your way towards the window. Sure enough, Daredevil was standing on your fire escape.

Your brows rose as you unlocked the window and slid it up, stepping aside to let him in. Matt climbed through effortlessly before sliding the window closed behind him. He pulled the helmet from off of his head, running a hand through his sweaty and messy hair. He was wearing a matching confused expression as he focused on you.

“I thought Foggy’s bachelor party was tonight?” you asked him. “Don’t tell me you left him to do this?”

Matt shook his head in response, his brows still furrowed as he stared back at you. “No, that ended a little over an hour ago. I didn’t really drink,” he answered. His head cocked to the side as his eyes narrowed. “You know, I try really hard not to eavesdrop, but were you just…giggling about wet penis jokes?”

A loud, clumsy laugh burst out of you and when an embarrassing snort followed after, you threw a hand to your mouth to try to cover the sound. Matt’s eyes crinkled at the corners, a smile playing along his lips as he listened to you laugh like a deranged, intoxicated hyena for a minute. Eventually you slowed down, trying hard to catch your breath.

“That’s what my shirt says,” you tried to explain.

His eyebrows rose up onto his forehead. “Your shirt says lots of wet penis jokes?” he asked.

You laughed into your hand again, shaking your head. You were too drunk to be even remotely embarrassed right now. “No,” you answered him, still laughing a little. “No we had matching bachelorette shirts. Cards Against Humanity themed. You know that one game where there’s a fill in the blank thing?” Matt nodded, still smiling. “Well my shirt just says ‘Lots of penis jokes’. And I was trying to drink some water when you knocked and I spilled it all over my shirt and–” You stopped, waving a hand at him and shaking your head. “Nevermind, you’d probably need to be drunk to appreciate it.”

“Yeah it sure sounds like it,” he teased. “I bet that was real fun walking around wearing that out of context tonight.”

“It was a real hit at the strip club, that’s for sure,” you told him. “Gave the impression that I’m vastly less awkward than I really am to boldly wear this shirt out all night.”

Matt slowly cracked up, the sound eventually giving way to a loud laugh. “I’d have loved to be a fly on the wall hearing you at a strip club. I can only imagine…I’ll have to ask Karen and Marci for the details.”

You rolled your eyes, grinning. “You’ll have to ask Karen. Marci was a little too drunk and preoccupied to be paying much attention to me.”

“I assume you had fun?” he asked.

“Yeah, I did. But I’m pretty drunk right now, Murdock, I’ll be honest,” you said.

“I know, I can smell the alcohol,” he told you. 

You scrunched your nose, taking a step back. “Sorry, that’s got to be pretty awful to you,” you apologized.

He said your name, the word slightly sobering as he smiled softly at you. “I go drinking at Josie’s like every Friday night. I can handle the smell of alcohol.”

You sighed, rubbing a hand across your forehead. That headache was really starting to take shape.

“Not that I’m not happy to see you,” you began, your attention returning to Matt, “because I’m always happy to see you–”

“Oh?” Matt asked, boyish grin spreading on his face as he cut you off. “You’re always happy to see me?”

“Well–I mean–you’re my friend and I–” you stammered, trying to backtrack to make yourself look less like a fool but somehow looking more like one. He only grinned wider. You sighed loudly, the sound mingled with a groan. “Must I remind you, Murdock, I am very drunk right now,” you stated flatly. You waved a hand towards your face, assuming he could at least somewhat understand the gesture. “Brain to mouth filter totally gone. Stupid thoughts are just bound to come out. Ignore me.”

“That’s the last thing I’d like to do right now,” he playfully teased.

You flushed, and for some reason with him standing there in your living room, helmet in hand and tight-fitting Daredevil suit on, Karen’s words rang through your mind. And then you couldn’t help but wonder exactly what he wore under that suit. Nothing at all? Boxers? Shiny red thong? Your bottom lip caught between your teeth, heat further rushing up to your face as you wondered just how tone he was under there next, because you’d seen how his dress shirts hugged his body. And then you wondered how well he could move his hips and your teeth clamped down just a bit harder on your lip.

Matt cleared his throat, the sound drawing you out of your drunken thoughts. “Something on your mind?” he asked, an undertone of something akin to amusement in his tone.

Your eyes went wide realizing you’d just been standing there, staring at him in your apartment silently for way too long to be normal. He had probably picked up on your blushing and your elevated heart rate and who the hell knew what else your body was doing that only he was aware of. You blinked rapidly a few times, trying to push those inappropriate thoughts from your mind–at least while he was still here–and vowed to never be this drunk in Matt’s presence again.

“No,” you answered quickly, your voice breaking on the word. He kept staring at you with that smug smirk and it was doing things to you that you simultaneously did and did not like. You shook your head lightly, crossing your arms over your chest. “So uh, why the late night visit?” you managed to ask.

“I told you I’d be keeping an eye on your place,” he answered, the smug smirk finally fading from his face as a more serious expression returned. “Just making sure Figueroa’s men aren’t lurking around here for you.”

“Oh, well that’s unsettling,” you mumbled. “And have they been?”

He shook his head, a softer smile spreading across his face as he gazed back at you, his focus on your left shoulder. “No, not for a while. A few weeks back there were two men–” your heart jumped at the information and noticing, Matt quickly assured you, “–but I took care of them, don’t worry. They’re…incapacitated at the moment. You’re safe.” 

He hesitated a moment, shifting his weight on his feet. Was he actually…nervous? Was Matt Murdock nervous ? You were certainly too drunk to make sense of that.

“Honestly you’re probably safe at this point but I still come by to check on your place when I’m out,” he admitted. “Just to–to be sure. I uh, I was doing that but then I realized you were here and thought I’d stop by and say hey.”

“Oh,” you said, too drunk to make sense of that, too. “Uh, hey?”

He chuckled, his face breaking into a smile again. “Hey,” he whispered back.

You swallowed hard. There was that look on his face again, the one that had been appearing more on his face ever since the night you’d learned his big secret. And even sober you had no idea what to make of it. He’d been shooting it your way at Josie’s and at lunch dates with everyone during the week. Even that time you ran into him getting coffee last Thursday afternoon he’d looked at you like that when you’d realize he was also waiting in line and had greeted him.

That look was dangerous. It made butterflies multiply in your stomach. It sent your heart into overdrive, not sure if it wanted to beat out of your chest or up into your throat or just fall flat from your fucking ass to the floor. It had your hands itching to grab him by his almost–too-tight dress shirts and crush his lips onto yours when he kept flashing it your way.

Your drunk brain took a moment to catch up, but eventually it did. You blinked hard, tearing your gaze away.

“You want some water?” you asked, the first thing to pop into your head. “You’re probably dying in that suit and I could probably do with drinking more water instead of just spilling it on myself,” you said, the words jumbling together in a blur.

“Uh, sure,” he replied, his head tilting just a bit to the side.

You turned, the room spinning momentarily as you did, and then shuffled back towards your kitchen. Focusing on getting a glass from the cabinet and filling it with water, you tried to force all of those thoughts from your head. You were not about to believe he liked you like that. And you certainly needed to stop thinking about kissing his perfect, soft lips. With a sigh, you turned off the tap and spun around, but then your breath immediately caught in your throat.

Matt had somehow silently followed you to the kitchen and was standing barely a foot away from you, his helmet discarded on the kitchen counter nearby. Both of your hands had a death grip on the glass of water that was the only thing separating him from you. 

He was so close–his mouth was so close. You could take one little step and lift your head a few inches, lean forward into that small gap between the two of you and just kiss him. 

Wait. Had you actually just taken one step towards him? 

Your eyes were glued to his mouth, only slightly aware of his face looking at you with that look as he gazed down at you mere inches above your own face. And then you saw his tongue slowly dart out between his lips, something he’d done often as usually a frustrated or nervous tick it seemed, but right now it felt like something else. You couldn’t not watch the way it trailed along his lower lip so slowly, leaving a slight sheen of dampness in its wake. 

You were practically fighting to stay rooted to the floor, afraid your drunk mind was truly thinking he could be actually leaning in and trying to kiss you. There was no way. Matt would never kiss you. But as your heart continued to rage in your chest, you could have sworn he'd leaned in even closer. Breath shallow and palms sweating against the glass, your eyes slowly fluttered closed. 

And then the glass slipped from your sweating palms onto the floor with a loud crash and bits of glass and water covered the ground at your feet.

"Shit!" you exclaimed.

Without a thought and trying to break out of whatever trance Matt had somehow put you in, you bent down to pick up the mess. And you were definitely too drunk and dazed from whatever had been about to possibly happen to remember that broken glass was sharp and hurt. 

"Shit!" you exclaimed again, hand darting back as blood poured from the fresh cut a particularly large chunk had given you.

"Whoa, hey, stop," Matt said quickly.

He bent down and pulled you up by your shoulders. His eyes dropped towards your hand. "You're bleeding," he observed. 

"It's not that bad," you muttered. "It's just a small cut." You groaned in frustration, eyes on the bleeding gash. "I'm just a mess tonight apparently, spilling water and cutting myself on glass." You sighed, raising a foot to try to step around the mess so you could clean it.

Matt's hands still on your shoulders gripped tighter and momentarily halted your movements. "You barefoot trying to step around broken glass sounds like a terrible idea," he pointed out. "Here, I'll bandage your cut and clean this up. Let me just get you to your couch."

Your inebriated mind took so long to comprehend what he'd just said that Matt was already wrapping his arms carefully around you and lifting you up from the kitchen floor. Your arms flew to him instinctively, your hands clutching at the strange material covering his broad shoulders as the room spun yet again. Glass crunched under his heavy boots as he carried you in his arms out of the kitchen. 

You were slightly stiff in his arms, afraid if you touched him and relaxed into them you'd somehow not be able to stop wanting to touch him. And then you remembered your hand was bleeding and abruptly released his shoulder muttering a curse. 

"What?" he asked.

"I forgot my hand was bleeding," you answered, "and I'm pretty sure I just got blood on your suit, sorry."

Matt chuckled as he stopped just in front of your couch, the sound rumbling in his chest and vibrating against your body in his arms. 

''You are certainly not the first one to get blood on this," he said, grinning down at you. "I can promise you that."

"Well that's dark," you muttered, staring back up at him.

He was gazing affectionately down at you again, his mouth still quirked in a slightly amused grin. Once again his lips were so close to yours and you found your hand itching to reach up and just graze your fingertips along his stubbled jaw, just to trace the line of it. His lips parted ever so slightly and the movement caught your eye. 

"I should–should probably bandage your hand," he murmured. "You're still bleeding."

"Right," you said softly.

He cleared his throat, his eyes breaking their focus on you as he leaned forward and gently set you onto your couch. You felt a chill run down your spine as he released you, your body colder without the warmth of his against yours.

"You have a first aid kit?" he asked.

Cheeks flushing you shook your head. "No, but I do have some band-aids in the bathroom. Behind the mirror, second shelf on the right."

He chuckled softly, grin still on his face as he said, "I'm getting you a first aid kit."

One of your brows rose questioningly towards him. "Why? Because I'm just that clumsy you think I need it?" you asked him.

"That," he said in amusement, "and also because I'll probably need it occasionally."

Something stirred in your chest, a faint feeling like a warm flutter. "You planning to be around that often to need it?" you asked him, feeling a little breathless.

"Yeah," he answered softly, "if you let me."

Your cheeks burned as you watched him turn, easily navigating down your hall to your bathroom in search of your band-aids. 

Yes, you were certainly too drunk to make sense of that , too.

[my-vanishing-777]

Iranian protesters detained during months of nationwide protests as part of the “Woman, Life, Freedom” movement that emerged after the death in custody of Mahsa Amini were raped and subjected to other forms of sexual violence by Tehran’s intelligence and security forces, Amnesty International said in a report documenting the ordeals of 45 survivors. 

Mahsa Amini, a 22-year-old Iranian Kurdish woman, died on September 16 last year after being arrested by Iran’s “morality police” for wearing her hijab incorrectly.

“Sexual violence was used by state agents with total impunity as a weapon of torture to crush protesters’ spirit, self-esteem and sense of dignity, to deter further protests, and to punish them for challenging the political and security establishment and its entrenched system of gender-based discrimination, as enforced through draconian legislation including abusive compulsory veiling laws,” the report said.

“My friends and I removed our veils in public and we were chanting. The thought never crossed my mind that the security forces would arrest us,” one protester, Maryam, told Amnesty. “More than 30 members of the Revolutionary Guards came and threw us into a van in a horrific way. The agents blindfolded and handcuffed us in the van and kept hurling sexual slurs at us and calling us ‘slutty girls’. They called us vulgar words, mocked and ridiculed us, slapped us, and punched and kicked us in our genitals and breasts.”

Blindfolded and handcuffed, Maryam said she was brought to a detention centre and separated from her friends by Iran’s morality police. 

Put in solitary confinement and interrogated, Maryam said she was then gang raped and tortured by the state agents. 

“There were three of them, including the interrogator ... They violently raped me in my vagina with their sexual organs and raped me anally with a drink bottle,” she said. She eventually passed out.

“I regained consciousness when they threw water on my head and shouted to others ‘Come and take this filthy slut’,” Maryam recounted in the report. 

She was eventually thrown in a cell. “The guards then said to me[,] ‘You are all addicted to penis, so we showed you a good time. Isn’t this what you seek from liberation?’"

After suffering hours of rape and sexual violence for the purpose of inflicting maximum humiliation and punishment, the traumatised and disoriented detainees were often coerced into giving false “confessions” of connections to foreign entities and receipt of funds to take part in protests, the report said. 

Another protester, Hossein, who was arrested by plainclothes agents, said he was subjected to torture and sexual violence and forced to confess.   

“They removed my clothes except for my underwear. They turned on the cooler and then sprayed water on my body. I was freezing and they told me they would only stop if I made forced ‘confessions’ and said whatever they wanted me to say,” he said. 

Another male protester, Jamshid, said he was given electric shocks to his testicles and threatened with rape if he did not admit to all the allegations against him.

State complicity  

Perpetrated by members of Iran’s Revolutionary Guards, the Basij paramilitary force, the intelligence ministry and the police force, Amnesty said the rape and torture took place in official detention facilities or security compounds as well as unofficial locales such as houses or apartment buildings known colloquially as “safe houses” (khanehay-e amn) or at makeshift detention centres such as warehouses, parking lots and schools.

Despite the numerous first-hand accounts and even the identification of perpetrators by the victims, none of the authorities have been held responsible. Most of the victims have refrained from filing complaints for fear of repercussions and a deep mistrust of Iran’s judiciary, the report said. 

Among the documented cases, only three dared to seek legal action after release. Two were then forced to withdraw their complaints after receiving threats from the Iranian security forces. The third was ignored for months and was told by a high-ranking official that he “mistook” a body search for sexual violence, Amnesty said. 

"Prison rape has existed since the early days of the Islamic Republic," said Azadeh Kian, a French-Iranian sociologist, noting that Amnesty’s findings were unsurprising.  

"In the 1980s, young women arrested for political offenses were raped before execution. Their executioners thought that if they were virgins, they would go to heaven, which they should not be entitled to. A temporary marriage was organised and a dowry in the form of sweets sent to the girl's family," Kian said. 

Denouncing the complicity of Iran’s judiciary in covering up reports of rape, sexual violence and other torture practices, Amnesty’s Secretary General Agnés Callamard said the victims were left with no options. “Victims have been left with no recourse and no redress, only institutionalized impunity, silencing and multiple physical and psychological scars running deep and far,” she said as the report was released.

[pascaloverx]

DANGEROUS

CHAPTER TWO

Summary: You are a retired spy trying to live a normal life. Some time ago, a hired assassin named Tangerine tried to kill you. In response, you sought the help of an old acquaintance who could fake any death, August Walker. However, now your false identity is in jeopardy, along with your life.

Warnings: For now, the fanfic will not contain explicit content, but it will be flagged if it does in the future. However, there will be the use of strong language and moderate violence. Readers are advised. The characters August Walker and Tangerine do not belong to me but to their respective creators. Some other characters that belong to both Mission: Impossible (2018) and Bullet Train (2022) may appear in this fanfic. Other characters who are not part of these movies will be of my own creation. I hope you enjoy the reading

chapter one chapter three

Tangerine is holding onto your arm tightly, causing some discomfort. He's making you lead him to your house. You just want to get rid of him as soon as possible, but it seems almost impossible. That's because he has a gun, almost too visibly strapped to his waist. And he took the gun you stole from Walker. Son of a bitch.

"You should know that my neighbor is a bit nosy, but she's nothing more than that. So if you try to shoot her or any other shit like that, I'll kill you. She'll probably ask who you are. Please don't say anything that makes you sound like a murderer." You tell Tangerine, who seems to be bothered by something. But after hearing you speak, he lets out a weird little laugh. Okay, not so weird; maybe even sexy.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. I don't intend to cause any extra harm. But rest assured, if you try to play smart, I won't spare any efforts to..." He speaks as he walks alongside you, but you abruptly turn to face him. He seems intrigued but not surprised.

"Why cling to threats? If you want to settle this, settle it with me. Without involving innocent people. Understood?" You speak, a little enraged, looking Tangerine straight in the eyes. The eye contact between you almost feels like a competition of staring each other down. You want to show that you're not afraid because, in truth, you're not. What scares you is that this seems to excite Tangerine.

"You look extremely sexy trying to act brave. I can see why you and Walker built a relationship." Tangerine says, moving even closer to you, as if he's provoking you. You bite your lower lip lightly, thinking that sleeping with the enemy might not be a bad idea and then escaping death. But before you can think of something to reply, your neighbor, Mrs. Johnson, appears on her balcony. She asks who's there, looking in your direction, and Tangerine doesn't seem pleased by this.

"Good evening, Mrs. Johnson. It's me, your neighbor. I brought my late husband's brother for a visit. I hope I didn't disturb you." You say, positioning yourself in front of Tangerine in case Mrs. Johnson sees his weapon. Unfortunately, his body is so close to yours that you can feel his penis lightly pressing against your buttocks. Oops.

"My dear, it's good to see you're taking care of your late husband's family. Just come inside." Mrs. Johnson says kindly. You relax a bit when you notice Mrs. Johnson quickly retreating into her house. What's even more interesting is that Tangerine hasn't moved an inch away from you. He's simply clinging too close to your body.

"Does your neighbor usually meddle, or is it because you never have any company in this fake life you've created?" Tangerine speaks near your ear, his mustache lightly brushing against the corner of your neck.

"She cares about me. And for your information, this life is more real than any other I've had. I grew into espionage. I wasn't a person; I was a product. Now I have a neighbor who cares about me." You reply, knowing deep down he must understand you. Whether he likes it or not, your jobs are alike.

"Oh, my dear, I apologize if I gave the impression that I care about your personal life, my bad. But if you want to tell me your sad story while we're both in the horizontal position, I promise to pretend to care." Tangerine says as he rests his chin on your neck. You turn to face him, wanting so much to slap him in the face.

"Are you suggesting that sleeping with me might make you care about me on a personal level? If so, we can make a deal. You're decent enough." You say, objectifying him. The proposition itself is just an exchange of unnecessary comments, but if he agrees, maybe you'll consider it.

"You know what's the funniest thing about all this? I actually think I would accept your proposition." He says, moving closer to you as if challenging you. But you meet his gaze without flinching.

"Too bad, but now you're going to try to end me. And I'll find a way out of this and kill Walker. Maybe in another life, you'll have better luck." You say, getting very close to Tangerine. His lips look pink up close. In moments, you notice his approach, and even though you fear what he might do, you don't back away. Then Tangerine tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear and lightly holds your face, pulling you towards him. His lips are quickly on yours. Your tongues are once again finding each other. While you run your hands through Tangerine's hair, he firmly grips your waist, almost reaching your butt.

"I don't like to leave anything for later. Which reminds me..." Tangerine grabs your two hands and restrains you with handcuffs. You're surprised but not shocked. But in the end, he even helped you. You hold on to your handcuffed hands and throw everything in his face. Without thinking much you run to your house which is not far away. You barely saw if your blow had any real effect on Tangerine. You just locked yourself in the house. Unfortunately you are not alone.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" You ask, almost shouting. Obviously seeing Walker inside your house didn't make you happy. This damn hot traitor.

"I'm the one who should react like that, you left me in a bad way on that fucking train." Walker says, sitting on your couch. As if he were a damn husband waiting for his wife.

"So, let me get this straight. You hand me over to Tangerine, set a trap for me, and you're just upset because I decided, I don't know, to create a distraction to escape?" You would like to show more anger, but you're too busy figuring out how to escape this situation. Walker seems to have noticed that you're nervous, standing up from the couch and effortlessly throwing the couch against the front door.

"What did you do?" He asks as he grabs other heavy items and piles them against the door to make it difficult for Tangerine to enter.

"He kissed me and handcuffed me, so I used the handcuffs to hit him in the face. Just a reminder, I'm only in this mess because of you." You say, heading to a compartment in your living room that contains some weapons. Walker follows you, making sure to block the back door as well.

"So now it's my fault that you use your lips and then hit the people you were kissing?" Obviously, he would use that against you. You roll your eyes at him as you reach for one of your guns and hand it to him. With the time spent in espionage came the experience of doing things while handcuffed. But Walker grabbed some tool from the kitchen and broke the handcuffs. You didn't even know that was possible.

"You two are starting to look like a boring married couple. Now that you've stopped, let's have an adult conversation." Tangerine says, appearing as someone who must have invaded your house through one of the damn windows. You and Walker automatically look at each other, knowing that this conversation is going to be interesting.

[mystique-6]

Kinktober Day 5 Table Sex

Summary: Ailis tries to make the best of a bad situation. She manages to make it worse.

Hello! My hyperfixation on Astarion has got me in the writing mood so I will be participating in Kinktober using @flightlessangelwings Kinktober list. The pieces may be part of a bigger fic(s). I have started the fic. If you like this please consider checking out my main fic, This is Me Trying. (Can you tell I like Taylor Swift?) Either way, I hope you enjoy. I do plan on completing the 31 prompts though it will take me past October. I also have the fic posted on AO3.

Warning: Anyone under 18 do not interact. Please pay attention to the tag warnings below.

Tag Warnings: Table Sex, Non-consensual Touhing, Non-consensual spanking, Impact Play, Non-con/rape, vampire bite, semi-public sex, penis in vagina sex, anal fingering, figging, domestic violence, abuse, gags, orgasm denial

Additional Note: This fic involves Ascended Astarion.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything from BG3.

Ailis paused before the large oak doors of the dining room and took a deep breath.  She loathed this hour of the day when she was forced to dine with Astarion.  On a good day, it was the only time she saw him.  Other days he required more of her presence and the meal usually ended up as a prelude before something unpleasant.  Today had been a good day.  It seemed aa shame to ruin it with his presence.  She took another deep breath, opened one of the heavy oak doors, and swept into the dining room.

“Ah!  There you are, my darling consort!” Astarion exclaimed.  “You look beautiful this evening.”  She watched him take in her form she had draped in a midnight blue, velvet evening gown.  Her dark, black-brown hair was worn up in a braided bun.

“Thank you, my Lord,” she managed to force out in a polite tone.  She took her seat across from him at the ridiculously long dining table.  When they had first started living here, the size of the table had annoyed her.  Now she was grateful for the distance.  She took in the spread laid out for them; two golden goblets full of blood for her and a plate of ham with roasted potatoes and carrots for Astarion.  He also had his own goblet of blood and another filled with a red wine.  She frowned at her own goblets.  It wasn’t so much that she missed food.  She just didn’t like the reminder that she couldn’t have it any longer.  Astarion noticed her pouting.

“Is there something wrong with the blood I provided for you?” he asked.  She heard the warning in his tone.

“No.  Nothing,” she replied quickly and took a sip.  It was never enough to satisfy her hunger.  She forced a smile on her face anyway and Astarion nodded his approval.  She felt relief that he let the perceived slight go.  They went through the meal in silence.  They were the only two in the room.  Astarion always just rang a bell when he needed something else brought in, rather than have the staff stay in the room during their meals.  This hadn’t bothered her in the beginning.  She had enjoyed the intimacy of just the two of them dining alone.  Now she thought having the servants in her would be a nice distraction from the loud silence between them.

She finished her two goblets of blood and gazed at the old grandfather clock that stood against the adjacent wall.  Only twenty minutes had passed.  She couldn’t stand the thought of spending another forty minutes of tense silence.  She turned to stare at Astarion but she knew he would never dismiss her early.  She saw him reach for the Baldur’s Gate news pamphlet he read every evening, and she knew she had to do something to end this agony.

“How was your day?” she cried out in a forcefully optimistic tone.  Astarion’s hand paused over the pamphlet and he looked across the table at her in surprise.  By his baffled expression one would have thought she’d suddenly grown two heads.

“I’m sorry, darling.  What did you say?” he asked.

“I asked how your day was,” she said.

The look of surprise changed to one of suspicion.  “If you were needed on one of my current plans for the city, I would have included you, darling,” he said.  “Don’t trouble yourself about them.”  He started to reach for his news pamphlet again.  Ailis closed her eyes and took a deep breath as she tried to force back a scowl.  It had been months since either of them had initiated a normal conversation during dinner.  She should have anticipated he’d be suspicious.  She tried again.

“I wasn’t asking how your plans are going,” she said in an even tone.  “I was asking about your day.  Was it a good day?  Anything exciting happen?  Do you have anything you want to discuss.  That is what I meant.”

The look of surprise returned to his face and then shifted to confusion, though she could still see a hint of suspicion in his expression.  “I’m not sure why any of that matters to you, my dear,” he said stiffly.  “How my day went had nothing to do with you.”

This time she couldn’t hold back a groan of frustration.  “I am trying to make conversation with you!” she exclaimed.  “We never just talk anymore!  We used to talk…”  She cut off as she realized just how true her words were.  She couldn’t even remember the last conversation they’d had that didn’t involve thinly veiled threats or barbs.

Astarion stared at her for such a long moment she thought he was just going to ignore her, but finally he answered.  “My day was rather tedious.  All meetings that made very little progress.”  He paused.  “How was your day?”

Ailis tried to stifle her surprise.  She hadn’t expected him to return the inquiry.  “Also tedious.  There’s nothing for me to do here.”

Astarion snorted in derision.  “You have an entire library at your disposal,” he said.  “Not to mention the gardens or you could go riding along the grounds.  You also need only advise the servants to bring you anything you like.  If it’s something we don’t have here they’ll get it for you.”

“I’ve done all that you just suggested numerous times before,” she said.  “Doing the same thing day after day gets tiring.”

“My you have become spoiled, haven’t you?  It’s unbecoming, pet,” he scolded.  She looked down at her empty goblets shamed.  She looked back up when he spoke in a gentler tone.  “Why don’t you interact with the other spawn?  You might not feel so bored if you had more companionship.”

“The other spawn don’t like me,” she said, and was surprised by the sad tone in her voice.  She often told herself she didn’t care that she was ostracized from the other spawn.  She understood why they didn’t care for her.  Although Astarion was awful to her, he was even worse to his other spawn and he often set her up on a pedestal he made sure the others knew they wouldn’t reach.  Of course, they didn’t like her.

Astarion considered her words for a moment and nodded.  “They’re just jealous of you, darling,” he said.  “And they should be.  You’re far above them.  You shouldn’t concern yourself with whether they like you or not.”  She forced back a groan of frustration.  She shouldn’t be surprised his suggestion was to force her presence on the other spawn and ignore her discomfort.  He was forcing her into that situation every day with their dinner arrangement.  She reminded herself she was trying to make the best of it.

“What I would really like to do, is get out of the mansion,” she said, and then added quickly.  “Find something to do in Baldur’s Gate.”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” Astarion replied stiffly.

“Why not?” she challenged.

She watched as a flare of his temper appeared in his gaze, but he answered her calmy.  “There are numerous miscreants walking the streets of this city.  You are my consort.  It is my duty o keep you safe.  You are safe here in the mansion.”

“In case you’re forgetting, I helped save this city.  I don’t need your protection,” she said.  She was honestly surprised he kept control of his temper.

“That was before I became the vampire ascendent, darling,” he said, a dangerous tone to his voice.  “There are those who would see me brought down.  These wicked, ignorant fiends would gladly try to use you to get to me, or hurt you to hurt me.  I won’t risk your safety.”

“You could come out with me,” she persisted.  “We haven’t done anything together in a long time.”

Astarion paused, but ultimately shook his head.  “I’m far too busy, darling,” he said.  “And really, there’s nothing happening in Baldur’s Gate worth our seeing.”

“So, you’ll neglect me simply because you aren’t interested in any events?” she snapped, finally losing her own temper.  She paled at the rage filled expression he gave her.  She’d finally crossed a line.

“Neglect you?” he hissed.  “Darling, I provide for you everything a person could want.  Others would be envious of your position, and yet you’ve grown so spoiled you are incapable of being grateful.”  She opened her mouth to protest, but he held up a hand to stop her.  “I really think you ought to be taught a lesson.  Come here, pet.”  Ailis hesitated, but stood when he opened his mouth to compel her.  She walked over to stand in front of him on legs that suddenly felt heavy as lead.

He observed her for a moment and then said, “Remove your clothes, darling.”           

Ailis blinked, and then shot nervous glances towards the rooms two entrances.  “The servants could enter at any moment,” she whispered.

“Ungrateful consorts don’t deserve privacy,” he said.  “Remove your clothes.”  When she continued to hesitate, he reached out and ripped her dress off her.  She let out a startled cry and quickly removed her remaining garments until she stood naked before him.

“Now get on the table on all fours,” he ordered.  She tried once again to protest but his time he stopped her with compulsion.  “Now, pet.”  She unwillingly moved to the table and moved his dining ware and news pamphlet out of the way before climbing up onto the table in front of him.  He stood up and then pressed down on her back between her shoulders so her chest laid on the table and her ass was raised up in the air.  He then rang the servant’s bell.

“No,” she whimpered.

“Hush, darling,” Astarion scolded.  “And don’t move from that position.”  Her body reacted to the command and she was locked in place, unable to try to shield herself from anyone’s eyes.  Her face flamed when she heard the servant’s entry door open and an angry tear slipped down her face at the indignity of being put on display like this.  She heard a brief murmur of voices with words spoken too low to hear, the door closing, and then reopening a few minutes later.  Another exchange of words occurred and then the door closed.

She trembled as she heard Astarion walk up behind her and then cried out as he shoved two fingers into her anus with no warning.  She grimaced as he roughly pumped his two lightly greased fingers one or two times and then slightly scissored them inside her before he removed them.  His fingers were then replaced by a different object, she assumed a plug, at her entrance before that was slid into place.  She was relieved at least the toy was greased, considering how wet it felt. 

“All right, darling?” Astarion asked, stroking her hip.

“Y-yes,” she replied in a shaky voice as she adjusted to the intrusion.  She waited for him to continue, but he just continued to stroke her body from her hip down her thigh and back.  She had just begun to relax slightly when the inside of her ass began to burn.  She cried out in shock.

“Darling?” Astarion questioned, but she heard the smirk in his voice and she realized now what he had been waiting for.

“It burns!”  she cried.  “What is it?”

“Peeled gingerroot,” he answered and stepped up to where she could see his face.  His expression was smug.

“Take it out!” she ordered.

“I don’t think so, love.  This is a punishment, remember?” he said.

“Please take it out!” she begged.  “I’m sorry!  I’m sorry!  Please!”

“You’re not sorry,” Astarion stated harshly.  “You just want me to do what you want, but I’m not here to give you what you want.  I’m here to give you what you need, and right now, you need a lesson on gratitude.”  He suddenly thrust an apple in front of her mouth.

“Open,” he ordered and she obediently opened her mouth.  “Bite down on the apple.”  She did and grimaced as the apple’s juice filled her mouth.  It tasted like decaying garbage left out to rot in the sun.  She looked up at him with watery eyes.  He was staring down at her with a stern glare as he pulled off his belt.  “I’m going to give you twenty lashes with my belt.  You are not to drop the apple until I say so.  If you do, I will give you five more lashes for each time you drop it.  Nod that you understand.”

She nodded and he moved behind her.  She trembled as she waited for the first lash and then cried out, the sound muffled by the apple in her mouth.  He had hit her with his full force and the sting from the leather made her skin feel like it was on fire.  Worse, when she’d clenched down to brace herself for the next blow, the burn from the gingerroot grew more intense.  She screamed and sobbed around the apple as she was forced to take the full blow from the belt or clench around the gingerroot.  She felt an overwhelming since of doom and panic as she tried not to bite down too hard on the apple and let it fall from her mouth.

Finally, the last blow hit and she heard his belt drop to the floor.  She rested there as she shook from her sobs and then flinched when she felt his hands grip onto her hips.  He pulled her ass and hips down so she was parallel to the table and then pulled her back a bit so she was closer to the edge.  She felt the head of his cock press to her cunt and she moved to rest on her forearms so she could brace herself.  He brutally thrust into her and then set a punishing pace.

His thrusts left her in the same situation as the beating, and she was once again forced to take the full brunt of his thrusts against her bruised ass or clench around the gingerroot and worsen its burning sensation.  However, it was slightly better as his cock dragged against a sensitive spot inside her with each thrust.  He made no move to touch her, however, so she started to move her hand down to do it herself.  His hand caught hers in a crushing grip and he moved it back to where it had been resting.  His other hand slapped her bruised ass harshly and she whimpered.

“You cum from my cock alone or you don’t cum at all, pet,” Astarion grunted as he continued to pound in and out of her.  “This isn’t about your pleasure.”  Tears streamed down her face as he continued to take his own pleasure from her body and left her wanting.  She could tell he was approaching his release when his thrusts lost their rhythm. 

Suddenly, one of his hands wrapped around her throat and she was lifted to a kneeling position.  He adjusted the position of her head to bare her neck and then roughly sunk his fangs into her neck.  Her scream was muffled by the apple and she writhed from the agony of his harsh bite.  She felt a cold numbness spreading through her body and then the room began to spin as he continued to drink from her.  Dark spots began to grow around the edges of her vision until finally the whole room went dark and she was lost.

She did not know how long she was out, but she felt very groggy and weak when she regained consciousness.  She was still on the table, though she was now resting on her side.  Her ass throbbed from the lashes of the belt and the burn from the gingerroot still inside her, though that had diminished.  Somehow, she still had the apple clenched between her teeth.  She shifted and tried to push herself up to a sitting position.

“Careful, love,” Astarion said, and gripped her hip gently before pulling the gingerroot out.  She whimpered and he shushed her as he helped her move off the table then.  “Go slowly now.”  She managed to raise herself up and he then lifted her off the table before setting her down in his chair.  The room spun and she felt an overwhelming sensation of nausea.  She lowered her head between her knees and took deep breaths through her nose, while Astarion gently stroked her hair.  After another moment, she raised her head to look back up at him.

“Here, darling, you can let go of the apple now,” he said taking it from her mouth and placing it on the table.  She flexed her jaw which ached from being held open for so long.  She glared at the apple on the table and Astarion chuckled.  “Did it offend you?”

“It tasted disgusting,” she grumbled.  “I used to like apples.”

“Tastes can change,” Astarion said.  “Let’s get you more blood.”  He grabbed the servant’s bell and then she watched in confusion as he moved towards the servants’ entrance before ringing it.  She tensed as she saw the door open, but Astarion stood directly in the doorway, blocking the servant from view.  No, she realized, blocking her from view of the servant.  She felt tears burn her eyes which had begun to spill by the time Astarion approached her with a new goblet filled with blood.

“Darling?!” he exclaimed placing the blood on the table and taking her face in his hands.  “What’s wrong?”

“The s-servant was never in here?” she questioned.  “They never saw me like…they never saw me?”

Astarion gave her a soft look.  “No, darling, they never saw you,” he said.  “You are entitled to privacy.”  His expression changed to be sterner.  “When you behave.”  She heard the warning.  He’d put her on display if she didn’t please him.  She should feel angry and disgusted but she only felt relieved.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He stroked her cheek.  “Of course, pet,” he said and then handed her the goblet.  “Now drink this slowly.”  She listened to him and slowly sipped the blood from her goblet until it was all gone.  She felt her strength return to her and she placed the goblet on the table before glancing up at him.  He held his hand out to her and she took it and let him help her to her feet.  She grimaced when she felt his spend drip out of her and begin to slide down her thigh.  He laughed.  “Let’s get you cleaned up.”  He started to lead her towards the door but she held back.  He gave her a questioning look.

“You tore my dress,” she said.  She didn’t want to be paraded through the mansion naked. 

Astarion looked towards the torn fabric left in a pile on the floor and smirked.  “So I did,” he said.  She worried for a moment that he was going to make her leave the room naked but he then lifted his own shirt off his body and then helped her into it.  It covered her to mid-thigh.  She smiled at him and gave him a small kiss.  He stroked her cheek again and gave her a soft look.  “I’ll look into what events are happening in the Gate this weekend.  I’m sure I can find something that’s suitable for us to attend.” 

She felt her heart swell and she wrapped her arms around him.  “Thank you,” she murmured.

She felt him smile against her temple.  “This is was gratitude gets you, darling,” he said and then pulled pack and gave her a warning look.  “Don’t forget it.”  She shook her head quickly and followed him out of the room, all fuzzy feelings lost.  All she’d really learned is she would never get anything from him without a cost. 

[midnighttease118]

CATCH & RELEASE

Syzoth/ReptilexFemale OC

(NSFW, Smut, TW! Non-consensual acts & graphic violence)

I should've been dead.

Bodies were being slaughtered as quick as one would blink; it was happening so fast that all the confidence I held dissipated. I was scared long before this, but I gripped onto what little courage I had for the fate of our timeline. All of my training that I've built felt like child's play when facing fearless Outworlders, sorcerers, and demons. I was just a regular human, thrust into a multi-dimensional brawl that would determine the fate of humanity.

An evil version of myself knocked me off the tower, wishing me a quick death. But, I was saved by a woman with wings that expanded wider than her entire body. She landed me far away from the tower to where it was still in my line of vision, but everybody had shrunk to the size of insects.

I'd never know why this winged woman chose to save me, because right after she released me on the ground, a sharp tongue had wrapped tightly around her throat. Her skin melted like she had been dunked in acid. My knees buckled, and I dropped to the ground, helplessly watching the unceremonious death of my savior.

A loud snap dislocated her head from her body and was yanked from behind into the mouth of a disgusting creature. It happily crunched down on her cranium, breaking the bone to reach her brain, which squirted blood all over the creature's body. A small dot of it splattered right under my eye, and that awoke something in me. I couldn't die like that. I would rather end myself than become lunch. I got up and mustered all the energy I could to run towards the monster with a battle cry. I actually got several hits in before he caught my ankle with his tail and slammed me into the ground.

"Fuck!" I got up after wiping blood from my lips, "You won't get away-huh?"

My opponent was gone. He seemed to have vanished instantly after throwing me down, but we were in a barren area where if he had run off, then I would've spotted him immediately. Off to fight some other person, I figured.

My limbs were sore, and at this rate, I was really going to encounter someone with no mercy who'll just torture me till my last breath. It was a cowardly move, but I believed the best strategy at this point was to find a place to hide quietly and pray.

"Ahh!" I suddenly felt a heaviness weighing me down, putting me in a kneeling position. I surveyed the area again, bewildered. I swear, something brushed against me, but that may've been my own imagination...

As I tried to stand up again, the pressure from above kept me down and my lips were being pried apart with something slimy and hot.

"Mmmh?!" the invisible object drove down to the back of my throat, making my gag. I could smell it from this distance; it smelled of seawater. Strangely enough, that brought me comfort and I flashed back to a time before all of this chaos, where I'd spend summers training on the sandy beaches away from the city.

There was loud grunting from above, even though I still couldn't see anything. Cautiously, I raised a hand and jutted it forward to feel for anything that could be connected to this invasive object. A rough bed of scales if what I felt, and my touch startled the being so much, it revealed itself to me. It stood at over six feet, wide and dominating from appearance alone. He was green all over; it was very clear that he was some cold-blooded freak that evolved from a regular lizard to a humanoid one. His penis was far from human though. It had a girth that would put my greatest lover's to shame, and the second shaft that rested below my chin was just as hefty.

I tried pushing away from the reptile. His large hand went to the back of my head and brought me deeper onto his cock. The claws dug through my hair, daring to do worse if I disobeyed. I caught a glimpse of my opponent and was stunned at his feral features.

In my world, these creatures were smaller than my hand and usually locked in transparent cages to be gawked at as pets. But here, I was its pet. There were countless fighters defending their worlds, but we were together combining ours. It was unconventional, downright criminal, but the longer I thought about it the more I preferred this form of torment.

"Mmh..." I moaned gently, getting used to the abnormal size of his lizard cock. I found myself vibrating along his length, trying to ask for release. A loud cry came from the reptile and he listened to me, yanking my head back by my ponytail. The tip of his penis was slobbered with saliva and precum, but I wasn't done yet.

The kombatant shuddered under my touch when I lowered my lips down to his second cock and licked at the slit, savoring its salty precum. "Hng..." his chest rumbled softly when I lowered my mouth on his shaft, reaching only half-way on my own. Sensing the issue, the reptile began thrusting down my throat, rolling his head back with an elated roar.

When I was done pleasing both of his cocks, I expected to get one good shot of cum, but it never came. Nothing shot down my throat.

No. He needed more than that. I did too.

The humanoid tore my leggings off in one motion and held me up in the air with one hand like a trophy he was proud to show off. His tongue reached up to lick at my ankle, up to my knee, and then to its final destination that had me gasping for air.

"Ah yes, right there...," I whined. A reaction like that wouldn't stop this beast from going further now. He tasted past my prickly lips and circled around my sensitive clit that became engorged in seconds. My entrance had gotten wet before his tongue had met with it, so when he dove inside, it was less painful and more exhilarating.

"Damn you! You...ahhh..." His tongue felt so good between my walls, and there was no difference when he switched to my asshole that had been craving attention. It was a much tighter fit to swirl his tongue in there, but the results would make that effort worth it. My body yearned to feel both of his dicks to the hilt.

He lowered me to his eye level when he fully prepped me.

"What a slut..."

"You...you can talk!"

The reptile smirked with those sharp fangs of his, and refused to give me an explanation as to how his ability to speak could be possible. All that mattered was the pleasure he sought through my body. The monster kept his large hand around my torso and squeezed it firmly. One of his penises teased my cunt while the other was pushing lightly into my anus. In one swift motion, both had slowly inserted itself, leaving me completely stuffed.

Fully seated on his cocks, the Reptile's hands were placed behind my knees and lifted me up in a folded position, exposing my most sacred areas to the barren field.

"Hng! Ah...oh fuck, mmmh..." Incoherent words spilled from my mouth, and his pace was rhythmic and quick. Either one of us could've been executed at any moment, which is why we both strived to fuck eachother fiercely- like it was our last day.

His tongue shot out again to play with the fabric of my sports bra, the only thing left dividing us from being completely exposed to one another. Of course, he had to tear that off too. I had come to know that the muscles in his tongue were abnormally strong; I should've known it'd be strong enough to rip off clothing too.

"Close...fuck...it's coming!" I grew to miss his cocks plowing my holes, and they weren't even pulled out yet. I fought to bring my orgasm to life, have it reach the surface and destroy me. The kombatant decided at that moment to wrap his tongue around my throat, which brought me back to the moment the winged woman melted from its touch. So, even after all this he really was going to kill me. He was just getting his last taste of ecstasy beforehand, I thought.

"You're trembling..." he growled, "I like it."

He squeezed harder on my windpipe. I was gasping, trying to ignore the hemipenis hitting my sweet spots so I could pray to God to let it end peacefully. But, my skin had not melted off. It appeared that my pussy was melting instead.

"Ohh fuuuck!" It squirted cum in a way that I thought was only possible in pornographic films. I shivered from the after effects. This vile thing actually made me cum.

The creature grunted into my ear and his first spurts of cum entered my orifices. He kept me up by his arms for a few more seconds, to rest his rapid heartbeat, before dropping me to the ground. I was on all fours, sticky from our activity.

"Hehehe..." the reptile eyed me, "You humans really are delicious..."

It sounded like his voice was echoing all around me. Did his choking make me woozy? Turns out, the truth was more bizarre.

Emerging seemingly out of nowhere, an army of humanoid reptiles greeted us. Their cocks were all erect and throbbing, and I was left in the center to face them all.

The battle of Armageddon could've ended by now, all could've been well, but I would've never known with the barrage of primal cocks I would go on to service.

[cyberpunk-20xx]

On Johnny’s trans journey

cw for internalized and externalized transphobia, lesbophobia, alcohilism mentions, canon-compliant violence

Yeah so one day (this is my hc in my CP15 AU where Johnny doesn’t get to stay with the Aldecaldos the whole time between summer 2013 and the 2020s and instead goes back to Kerry NC, thus leading to a Reunion Tour that gets Victor hired by Samurai’s label), there's yet another quidproquo between Victor and him.

In a panic, he suckerpunches Victor rasping "I'm not a fucking tranny [unsaid: like you]"

And something clicks inside Victor's head (probably their chrome thinly-veiled skull rebuffing against the impact) and everything falls to place. As comprehension sets in, their response is instantaneous:

"Well fuck, damn you stupid bitch, I didn't say you were, but now I know you are!!"

And they look at him in disbelief like he's pulled the biggest bit they've ever witnessed, there's a blank where Johnny is pale as a fucking sheet, looking like a ghost that got killed twice more, starting to hyperventilate as he stares at them, and they righten themselves, rubbing and cracking their jaw back into place (that's also when Johnny understand how borged out they secretly are), and they look at him, eyebrows rising, and whistles out,

"Fuck, that explains so much."

—

Johnny once fell upon an entire fortune. Literally. While raiding an abandoned house the enemy forces had been hiding out at, the poor kid had collapsed right onto some corpse of a guy still clinging to a wad of cash. Johnny did what any shellshocked underage impulsive teen soldier would have.

He pocketed the money and hid it, the stress and fear of being caught with it making him sick. He had to get rid of it and quick. And he couldn’t waste it.

He’d gotten the whole premium package: he’d already had a medium shit quality T implant, so he got a mammectomy he paid a fortune for, a scrotum and penis transplant, and a few months later, he got back to the clinic using the rest of the cash plus the little military credit and health care he had for cosmetic surgery that erased his chest scars, rendering him unidentifiable as trans to the naked, cis gaze.

Robert Linder died for good with Johnathan Nauman, and he was a pre-op trans man hopeful for a future that had more colours to it than just reds and blacks and maroons.

—

Only Kerry and Denny knew. Kerry only did because he was himself a semi-closeted trans man. And Johnny acted with such disgust toward the subject anytime he’d brought it up, unless it was about himself and then suddenly it was fucking magically fine (it made Kerry feel special, so he did not question it- if only he’d know just how special he actually was, so special to Johnny that Johnny had to resort to violence to deny himself another chance at loving a man the way he wished he could-) and Kerry’d always just assumed it was just yet another Raised in The Bible Belt thing.

He’d not been entirely wrong.

Denny on the other hand, knew about it because one day, she’d been the only one semi-sober– to this day she does not understand how nor why it had to be her of all people to learn this about their cryptical, aggressive frontman.

He’d been curled up in a corner and mumbling to himself, which wasn’t unusual but rare, but he was also sobbing and clutching his head. 

That, was not normal. It was fucking bizarre actually, and she felt even more mortified see this much from him than she’d been the first time she’d gifted a bouquet to a girl she liked (her name was Natasha, she had long auburn hair and a face like a gentle doll, lips pink like fruit) who’d then looked at her up and down and spat,

“I’m not a fucking lesbo.” 

As if just the thought had soiled her.

Well somehow that was worse.

And yet she’d approached him, and kneeled beside him.

Now, everyone in Samurai knew about Johnny’s horrid war-induced C-PTSD, and the first rule of thumb about Johnny’s horrid war-induced C-PTSD: You don’t talk about Johnny’s horrid war-induced C-PTSD.

If it needs to be brought up, Johnny is more than capable enough doing it himself and then by gods he’ll only stop when he’s done talking about it.

Many-a-one jaws and noses and ribs and walls and chairs and tables and car windows had beared the testimony of what happened if you broke that rule.

So they didn’t talk about it.

Then the 2013 raid happened. And it somehow got worse.

But let’s not get sidetracked.

Denny had sat next to Johnny, and a decade later she wonders if she wasn’t on some acid trip after all, when he’d not only not slapped her hand off of him, but collapsed against her chest, in the most uninterested way, and wailed just a tad louder, a tad clearer, about some guy he’d stolen everything from, the man who’d taken a bullet from him, and how he was a fraud and one day they would all find out, how he could only keep lying to himself for so long, he’d always just be the delusional bitch his older brothers said he was.

She had not even thought it was possible for Johnny Silverhand to have brothers, much less plural, much less ones that would have abused him and won.

More things were said. Garbled and disjointed, but Denny knew how to speak tongues with men who’d been swallowed by the bottle.

Oh, everyone assumed she was so patient with Henry because she was naive and stupid, but what they didn’t want to understand is that she just knew better. She knew that beneath the violence and the smell of chemicals lied terrified boys who’d grown into broken men, begging for anyone to just understand.

Her father had been such a kind man before the incident.

And so, she’d learned a secret Johnny hadn’t told anybody else, not even Kerry, and that was when she knew.

It was bad. She could never fucking mention it to anyone.

But Denny was used to taboos, and one more didn’t shake her. She just kept on drumming, taking out her rage at the world for burdening her with the pain of everyone around her by beating the shit out of her drumset and making bank off it.

She just knew some things were better left unsaid. Sleeping dogs lying and all that, y’know?

—

And then Victor had to go and fucking ruin it, making Johnny have to come out and say it.

And Johnny’s fists could barely scuff their face, it only broke the skin and bled but nothing underneath got any real damage, so, seemed they were all fucked.

They were gonna have to talk about it. Or at least put words on it, thinking about it, now.

Johnny hated them even more for that.

(That must be why he slept at their place, in their bed, for the next few weeks following.

Sometimes, Kerry would stay over so they could work on their songs, Victor keeping themselves busy with what the fuck ever it was that their imp ass did during their free time, and he’d sleep into bed behind him, or as the little spoon when Johnny felt small like humouring him.

Victor would stay on the same side of the bed and latch onto him one way or another, kissing his scalp softly, and he’d fall asleep, and if he were lucky, he dreamed of cocoa butter scented hair tickling his face, strong lanky dark skinned arms around his frames, two sets of dogtags clinking together softly under the rustles of the sheet.

Sometimes there would be blonde hair falling in a halo around a pale figure, but most of those dreams ended up as nightmares, so that’s not what we’re talking about if we’re talking about the times Johnny got lucky dreaming.

And when he’d wake up, there would be no blood. No screams. 

Just Victor’s stupid little hanging charms chiming softly as the AC droned on.

Just Kerry’s snoring against his neck.

Just peace.)

[best-enemies]

9 and 29 for the Ao3 wrapped ask? 😊

For the AO3 wrapped meme:

9. Favorite pairing you wrote for this year?

Thoschei - and I just realized that they're pretty much the only pair I've written for in almost ten years.... good lord lol

29. Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?

OH. I have so, so many. I'll mention a few:

From 'Location':

O was human. Normal. He listened to the Smiths and watched cartoons in his free time (a secret he only shared with the Doctor). He liked to cook and sent him lovely audios of himself singing when he was drunk. He complained about how boring his job could be (a spy!) and longed for something he couldn’t put into words. 

And yet, he’d drawn the Doctor into his world, and the Doctor felt like he was home.

I particularly like this one because I attempted to leave hints about O's real identity for the Doctor throughout the whole story even though he would never, obviously,put the pieces together. But this time I think it hurts the Master in a way it never did before.

From 'Eternal game of tug and war':

" I've known him for longer than you. He gets upset when people die, sure, but he moves on quickly. He's a Time Lord, you can't change nature! Imagine if you were a humanoid and stepped on a butterfly. You're upset, because oh, it's such a pwetty little colorful thing! But is it going to ruin the rest of your day or your life? No, because you know that, in the end, it's just a small, useless, stupid creature with a one month average life span ."

I like this one because I think it translates well the way the Master sees him and the Doctor. Even though they're renegades and the Master isn't a big fan of the time lords himself, he still carries that sense of superiority with him. And at the end he does see the Doctor as an equal.

Also, this one:

That’s it , the Master thought. No more thinking, no more hatred, no false hopes. Fuck his human friends. Fuck his junk of a time machine. No one else in all of time and space could ever make the Doctor feel what he felt with the Master; bodies and tongues clashing like a stellar collision. The beauty and the violence and chaos they made out of it had always fascinated the Master more than what the Master could do with his own hands, alone.

I think this was the easiest passage I wrote for Simm!Master. He's a delightful character to write for but not always an easy one because you have to balance his love and his hatred for the Doctor and at the same time hide the former behind an aggressiveness and it's not always an easy job. But this time it was easier because he kept it all in his thoughts. As Missy said, he's got this fire and he burns so bright and it's so delicious to write moments like this one.

From 'Who Tops: the sexual history of Omega and Rassilon':

“Jelpax, if I have to look at this miserable half-dead piece of worm you call a penis I’ll chop it off”

and

“Stop right there”, Magnus intervened. “We won’t tolerate any bias in the Deca. Especially because everyone here is biased against you, Vansell, because you’re a dick, but we still welcome you because we do not tolerate prejudice. Got it?”

and

“Ushas”, Drax could barely contain his excitement and irritation at her, the cocaine he had snorted on the way there kicking up. “We came all the way up here. I ran up a thousand flights of stairs.”

”Nobody told you to take the stairs.”

“We took the elevator for a while but it was too crowded and someone farted in there. I’m looking at you Mortimus. Nobody will chicken out!”

and

Rassilon, hiding his dick with his hand, declared into the microphone: “This is absurd! I am shocked that you would break the Laws of Rassilon just to come into the House of Rassilon to disrespect the Lord President Rassilon. If Rassilon fucks or gets fucked that’s Omega and Rassilon’s business. Now you will leave the Library of Rassilon or you shall feel the Fury of Rassilon!”

This story is my masterpiece.

From 'Nostalgia':

"Why are we talking about the past?", she suddendly brought up.

The Master stared ahead and his lips stopped shaking when he spoke:

"I wanted to know if it was real."

As I was writing it myself, this line hit me hard. I really got into this story and this passage came to me so naturally.... I'm proud of it!

Thank you!! :D

[arpov-blog-blog]

Michael Moore thinks that despite the polling and the right leaning mainstream media that seems to regurgitate GOP talking points, there will be a 'Blue Tsunami' election day. Here is more on his thinking...."Blake Masters, the Republican candidate running against Democratic incumbent Senator Mark Kelly in Arizona, has a vision for America:

“Local control! Small empowered villages and towns would probably be… much better. Where our children would not get indoctrinated, but be brought up with the town’s values and the family’s values…”

So what would these “town values,” and these “family values” be in Masters’ villages? 

After listening to Masters speak for the last few hours — culling through various Twitter videos, podcast interviews, Fox News appearances, debates, and his own campaign ads — I’ve learned a few things as to where Blake Masters stands:

Critical Race Theory —

On the podcast Subversive with Alex Kaschuta: “Good luck criticizing me for saying Critical Race Theory is anti-white. It obviously is.”

Trans Rights —

Speaking to Tucker Carlson: “Tucker, the schools! They’re indoctrinating our kids. They’re teaching boys to cut off their… [leaves a pause so he doesn’t have to say “penis”]...I mean, my God!”

Affirmative Action —

On Twitter: “I can’t think of a single policy since the end of Jim Crow that’s been worse, or more divisive for race relations in this country. Race quotas are wrong. Gender quotas are wrong. They’re unjust, they’re illegal, but the Democrats are addicted to this kind of identity politics garbage. They just care about how you look, not whether you’re the best qualified, or whether you can do the best job. You know, if you want to see the Affirmative Action regime on display — just look at Biden’s White House. Biden promised that he would choose a woman for his V.P. Then, of course, he chose Kamala Harris — so incompetent she can’t even get a sentence out. But I’ve never spoken to anyone who can say with a straight face that Kamala was somehow the most qualified candidate for that job.” The Jeff Oravits Show (podcast): “I didn’t say she [Justice Jackson] didn’t go to a good law school. She’s probably like, you know, she’s probably got a high IQ. What I said was she’s the affirmative action candidate, and she just indisputably is…”

Gun Violence —

The Jeff Oravits Show (podcast): “We do have a gun violence problem in this country, and it’s gang violence, right? It’s gangs, it’s people in Chicago, St. Louis, shooting each other. Very often, you know, black people, frankly. And the Democrats don’t want to do anything about that. Look at San Francisco and L.A. — they’ve legalized crime.” He also added, “Republicans don’t want to talk about urban crime, right? Because they’re terrified of being called racist. And Democrats don’t want to talk about big city crime because they’re ok with it. You know they want Phoenix to look more like Chicago, more like Baltimore. And, I just have a problem with that. If you don’t have law and order, you don’t have anything.” 

Immigration —

Reported by the NYTimes: “What the Left really wants to do is change the demographics of this country,” Mr. Masters said in a video posted to Twitter last fall. “They do. They want to do that so they can consolidate power and so they can never lose another election.”  And on Twitter: “Illegal immigration is a disaster, and this mass amnesty is an electoral strategy for the Democrats.” He added, “So if you want to call me a white supremacist for that, that’s stupid, but go ahead and knock yourself out. Be my guest.” The Jeff Oravits Show: “Well, we know what a good piece of border legislation looks like — we’ve got to triple the size of border patrol, finish President Trump’s wall, re-implement Remain In Mexico, mandatory e-verify. I’m a tech guy, so I want technology to help us lock that border down, right? Infrared cameras to map every inch so we can tell where the tunnels are and blow ‘em up. We know what to do. The problem is we lack the political will. You know, the Democrats don’t want to seal the border. Quite the opposite — they want the open border, and too many Republicans get squeamish about it, right? They don’t want to be called racist.”    

On Democrats —

Speaking to Tucker Carlson: “It all goes back to the Democrats trying to destroy the family. You know, whatever the issue is that the Dems are shrieking about today — maybe it’s COVID, maybe it’s climate change, maybe it’s systemic racism — ultimately their goal is to separate, to drive a wedge between children and their parents. For the Left it’s about creating this new red guard, right? Training this new generation of activists who are going to go and try and erase our history, and destroy our country.” 

Taking all this into consideration, all the people overtly excluded from Masters’ vision of America, I can’t help but wonder — who are the people left to be Masters’ neighbors in these new perfect white villages?

Well, Andrew Anglin for one, founder of the neo-Nazi website The Daily Stormer, a site with a running “Demographic countdown” clock ticking down until non-white people outnumber the white people. He has also authored numerous articles with headlines like “Satanic Hindu of Color Kamala Says Only Blacks Will Get Hurricane Relief” and “Unfunny Mulatto Fa**ot Trevor Noah Finally Giving Up, Quitting Failed Daily Show”. And he has also said this, as reported by the Phoenix New Times:

“This is the Jews for you, people,” Anglin wrote in the first of a 30-article series that advocates genocide of Jewish people. “They are a vicious, evil race of hate-filled psychopaths. When you do something they don’t like, they will use the power of the media to come down on you, assassinate your character.” “Jews should be exterminated” and, “The day is coming when we’re going to tear down the hoax [Holocaust] memorial in Berlin and replace it with a statue of Hitler 1,000 feet tall."

[keigosbirdie]

FEMALE READER VERSION

Of all Hawks’ secrets, you are the most well-kept.

Version: Female Reader version | Male Reader Version Links: Gifset (art only) | Mood Music

NIGHTHAWK Rating: Explicit   |   Word Count: 13k  | Art: 14 animations, 2 stills (Technically no spoilers, but if you aren’t caught up on the events of the manga you’ll be missing important context. The fic takes place after Hawks’ meeting with the commission.) Synopsis: Casual was the word you used when you first agreed to sleep together. As weeks turned into months turned into a year, those quick and dirty nights blossomed into private moments that earned him little pieces of you. Warnings: Dom!Hawks, Nurse!Reader, animalistic behavior, rough sex, quirk/feather play, light bondage, biting, praise kink, hurt/comfort, secret relationship, talk of past lovers, mentions of death, panic attacks, PTSD, mention of a past, non-canon event. Spicy, then bitter, then sweet.

There was nothing exceptional about your life from an outsider’s perspective. You lived in an apartment on the outskirts of Jaku City, unmarried and childless. During the day you attended medical school where you studied for your doctorate. During the evening you worked as a nurse in the intensive care unit. Then, when you were home, you sat alone for dinner at a kitchen table meant for two.

Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

For the past year, however, an occasional tap at your sixteenth-story window would break up the lonely monotony. The tap was quite a scandalous secret, not that anyone would believe you if you let it slip. Even you still had a hard time accepting the bizarre reality of the situation; but it was real. Just as real his voice, which you could hear echoing faintly through your apartment.

You glanced up from your lukewarm dinner and dropped your fork. For a long moment, you sat in silence, listening intently until you heard it again. It was him; it was his voice. Your heart pounded against your ribs as you shoved out of your chair and jogged to the window. The part between your curtains opened, but when you peeked through you saw only the glow of city lights below a blanket of darkness.

A frown found your face, and a sigh spilled past your lips. You heard his voice; you would never mistake it for another. It echoed casually against your dim walls again, and you turned your head towards the sweet sound. The television was on in the living room. Your heart dropped at the realization. The little square thing sat on your end table and taunted you with his image. 

There he was. Hawks, the winged hero, being interviewed by a woman in a pantsuit. It wasn’t often he did interviews, so you left your dinner to go cold in favor of watching the program.

He was dressed in his hero costume, his visor lifted to rest atop his blond, wind-whipped hair, and his scarlet wings folded politely against his back. A wide grin graced his face as he exchanged charming banter with the woman. She seemed enamored with his expression, but she didn't know him like you knew him. He was smiling, yes, but the edges of his eyes were crinkled with tension. When he chuckled, his wings folded a little harder against his back. His beats of laughter were calculated. Uncomfortable, that's what he was.

He’d been that way a lot lately.

"So, I'm sorry, I have to ask- Every bachelorette in the country is wondering, is there any special lady in your life?" the interviewer asked. It was airy and friendly in intent, but your lip twitched with faint annoyance anyway. Your face fell slack and you leaned back into your chair. 

"Well, I don't know about every bachelorette," he quipped. His face was a little grainy on your old TV screen, but you could see the slight pink in his cheeks. He was cute. So, very cute. It made you miss him that much more. "But my personal life, well, how alluring would I be if I didn't keep a few things a mystery?"

And a mystery it was, to everyone but you.

Thankfully, the woman interviewing him had enough tact to know when to move on. Their conversation mercifully veered away from his sex life—your sex life—and towards his agency. The television was a wondrous thing. His voice rang through your home despite his absence. It brought sadness, but also a bittersweet comfort. Viewing him live stung your soul. You watched until his interview ended with a commercial break, and then decided not to wait up for him again. That would only lead to another sleepless night. 

Still, the window remained unlocked for him as you called it a night. The yellow glow of your desk lamp died with a click, and you climbed into your bed. Sleep was always difficult. Many nights you laid awake as you thought about your ICU patients. The things you saw in the ward were enough to scar anyone. But if it wasn’t work that plagued your mind, it was him.

Casual was the word you’d used when you’d first agreed to sleep together. It was easy to swallow when he only snuck into your apartment at night for sex. For the first few months, that was it. He’d steal into your home through the cover of darkness and you’d share a violently passionate night. Then, he would vanish out your window until he craved you again. Which, thankfully, was often.

As weeks turned into months turned into a year, however, those quick and dirty nights blossomed into private moments that earned him little pieces of you. You realized you were in too deep when it became difficult to be unbothered by the casual daydreaming of others. His face was clipped to girls’ backpacks long before you knew him, but others, covered so openly in his merchandise, began to make you a touch bitter. His sex life had been speculated about in tabloids since his debut, but to keep your mouth shut while your friends contemplated the size of his penis became hurtful and emotionally taxing.

The only one you could confide those pains in was the man who unintentionally caused them, but Hawks was too sweet. If he knew just how much it tore you up, he’d surely break things off to spare you the misery.

You cursed yourself for getting lost in thoughts of him. Bemoaning the casual chatter of others as he gracefully balanced the weight of the world on his shoulders made you feel weak. You allowed your eyes to close, your breathing slowed, and your body relaxed into your mattress. By the mercy of whatever god watched over you, sleep slowly overtook all your other thoughts.

At least until a shuffle and a squeak made you toss in your sheets. A faint light spilled into your room from the window, and a coolness settled into your bed. You shivered. It was the fresh winter air from outside. The cold wasn't the only intruder. It was him. 

The light was dim, but a dark silhouette of flared wings blocked out the moonbeams. Your heart lurched in your chest at the dominant display. It was a habit of the bird in him to fluff up when his blood was hot. His predatory energy kept you submissively silent rather than greet him.

Floorboards creaked beneath his shoes. The pulls of their zippers clicked with the movement. His breath was heavy as he moved to your bed. You caught a vision of your lover’s face. Little flecks of snow followed in. They danced around the brilliance of his wings and settled into his hair. In the blue light of winter’s night, his gold eyes looked dazzling. They also harbored a glint of violence akin to the blown-out eyes of a predator in pursuit of prey.

It was a familiar look from the strange animal. He’d seemed so open and friendly when he’d first snuck into your hospital room to talk, but he shrugged away at hugs and only laughed awkwardly when you told him he was your best friend. He didn't understand that kind of closeness.

You’d learned how deep his discomfort ran through him when the relationship became sexual. His inept understanding of touch translated to violence in the bedroom. Sex was most comfortable for him when he thought of it as a battle. He'd hold you down and force you open. You'd dig teeth into his arms and rip out feathers with your fists. To submit to his pounding was capture, but to overstimulate him until he was too weak to hold you down was victory. Extreme? Perhaps to those who didn’t understand your trust in one another.

He'd at least offer a sappy hello before he pulled his dick out, though. Not tonight. He eyed you as if expecting you to run, as if he'd give chase if you decided to. Fuck, it caused the warmest tingle between your thighs. You’d missed him too badly to try to put up a fight.

He left his jacket abandoned on the floor, which offered a much better view of his slim body wrapped in his black bodysuit. His canines dug into the leather of his glove before he yanked his hand free with his teeth. You laid silent and already breathless. It'd been far too long since you last felt him. Your body was hot with need at the sight of his rigid wings alone. His eyes swept over you as he toyed with the front of his tan jeans. He didn't come very often in uniform. To watch him fondle himself through his costume was- god, was there a stronger word than ecstasy?

“I want you,” he said from your bedside.

"You can have me..." You breathed out. It was intended to sound sultry, but your tone was more akin to a pleading whisper. Your body ached for him before your heart did, after all. Old habits were hard to break.

"You've been waiting for me, like a good girl, haven’t you?" he cooed. Cooed, quite literally. A low and rumbling song reverberated from somewhere deep in his throat. Not a bit of you was avian, but your body reacted instinctively when you heard your mate's call.

"I should reward you."

His visor glinted in the dim light as he pulled it off his face and let it land on the floor. His earmuffs, too.

You bit down your grin as the weight of your mattress shifted under his knee. His ungloved hand neglected the bulge in his jeans to tend to you instead. Warm fingertips slipped beneath your covers and found the skin of your thigh. A small sigh spilled from his lips, and your body trembled.

"You missed my hands on you, didn't you?"

You only managed a nod as his fingers slid up and beneath your pajama top.

Your body sank deeper into your covers when he moved over you. One knee landed on either side of your hips. His bare hand played with your breast while the still gloved one ran through your hair. The leather of the glove was frigid from the cold, but his body radiated warmth. The sweetness of his cologne mingled with the harsh musk of sweat. The smell of him fogged your mind.

The pads of his fingers pinched and tugged at the pink bud he discovered on your chest, which earned him a harsh gasp.

"That's it. I love it when you sing like that," he chimed. His hot breath ghosted over the shell of your ear. Wefts of his hair brushed against your face as his teeth nibbled at your throat. You were trapped beneath the cage his body made. 

"These cute little tits of yours- god."

He wasn't usually so chatty when he was about to mount you, but every grumble that reverberated in his throat added to the tingle between your thighs. He could devour you whole and you would thank him for the honor.

Your hands slid up the sides of his tight bodysuit. The inky black fabric was harsh beneath your fingertips. You traced the patterns of its gold accents around to his back and up towards his wings. He stiffened when he felt you slide nearer to them. Between the plush feathers at the base of a wing, you wiggled a finger until you found the skin beneath. Then you gave the joint a brutal squeeze.

Instinctively, that glorious wing of his outstretched and shivered. The stems of his plumes flexed against your hand as they puffed twice their usual size. The longest of them brushed against the ceiling of your room, dwarfing your bodies beneath it.

You were always in awe of the sheer size and beauty of them.

"F-fuck. Not fair," he growled, and then his teeth sunk hard into your neck in vengeance. The harsh bite only made you desperate for more, so you fisted his feathers in your hand and gave a sharp yank. He gasped a hot breath into the nape of your neck. Fuck. You couldn't take the teasing anymore. 

Your hands relieved him of their cruelty to pull off your shirt. He faltered when your bare breasts were exposed. His golden irises became thin rings as the darkness of his pupils devoured them. The tip of his glistening tongue wetted his lips.

It was your turn to stare with sharp desire as you heard the click of his belt, then the pull of a zipper. You pushed yourself up to get a good view of him working his dick out of his bodysuit. The throbbing muscle hit him in the stomach. The sensation made him hiss between his teeth, and you whimpered in reply. 

"Hhm, you must be really hungry, the way you're staring at it," he mused before he spat into his palm and ran the wetness along the shaft. He quivered at the sensation. You quivered, too.

"Please." Your cheeks were flushed, and your chest quaked with desire. "I want to feel it, please." 

"Oh, don't worry. You’re gonna have all of this. Gotta get that pretty little pussy ready for my cock, though, don't we?" he hummed.

He reached into his plumage and pulled out a long, red feather. The thing wriggled between his pinched fingers as he presented it to you. The way it moved was unnatural, but you timidly took it in your grasp. The look on your face must have been telling of your confusion because he chuckled at your expression. He gave no direction. Instead, he watched with a mischievous curiosity as you turned it in your palm. The barbs vibrated independently of one another against your skin.

Your breath heaved when you realized why he had given it to you. His hands slid down your stomach as a pair of red feathers brushed against your sides. They dipped into the hem of your shorts, then pulled the fabric, sliding them down your legs until you were deprived of them. The cold from the open window seeped into your most sensitive places as his hands caressed your hips.

His fingertips stopped over a series of divots and deformities in your flesh. They were painful mementos of the night you met, and reminders of the sacrifice you had made for him a couple of years prior. He was a stranger when you chose to forgo your own survival to shield him from death. His bottom lip disappeared between his teeth as he relived the agony with you, but placed kisses all over the scars. It felt like a plea for forgiveness, so you ran a loving hand through his hair.

A soft sound spilled from him, and then his head dipped down to drink in the sight of your bare body. You were naked beneath your shorts, so he hummed through gritted teeth when he teased your legs apart. He'd seen it all many, many times before, but the sight of your glistening pink sex brought about his cooing again. The sound was a deep and beautiful melody unlike anything you'd ever heard, but also purely sexual. It was his body's call to yours. It beckoned you like a siren.

“No panties, huh?” he murmured. His breath hitched and vibrated with his lustful song. “You’re already so wet, my god… how about you put that feather of mine to use?”

He sat back on his haunches. Those narrow eyes bore holes into your exposed body as he spat another thick glob of saliva onto his palm. His hand found his cock. His eyelids fluttered at the contact and he groaned softly as he pumped around it. His eyes drank your every movement. 

You spread your legs for his gaze and then brought the pulsing feather between your thighs. He could feel through them, in a sense. The thought alone caused you to exhale a soft moan, but it was anything but soft when the vibration teased your sex. He groaned, too, at the contact. 

Your body flexed and wiggled when you pressed it hard against your clit. The sensation made your eyes roll back. Your slickness dampened its vanes despite its semi-hard state, and your hips ground into the pleasure. He observed. His hand pumped faster with each desperate whimper his feather worked out of you. 

It wasn't long before he couldn't take simply watching anymore. 

The roughness of his stubble dragged along your breast as he closed his teeth around one of your pink buds. He suckled, and your fingers tangled in his hair as his feather jolted from your grasp. It worked your clit without your help, and hot air blew from his nose as he jerked himself off. You used the distraction to sneak a hand between your bodies. You wanted the hot skin of his cock against you. You wanted to touch and play; to taste and feel. A thick whimper spilled out of him when you ensnared his throbbing dick in your palm and squeezed.

His feather stopped pleasing you.

"I didn’t give you permission to touch, did I?" His wings flexed. The feathered limbs grew massive as their quills stood on end in a frightening display. They were beautiful and plush, but deadly weapons all the same. “Testing me, huh? You're that desperate for my cock?”

Yes, fuck yes you were. You opened your mouth to reply, but your voice cut out when he grabbed you by the wrist. He jerked your hand away from his sex, and you whined. Usually, you were a bit of a hardass. It wasn’t easy to make you crumble, so he looked so devilishly proud of himself when you’d submit beneath the weight of him.

His teeth bared in a deliciously appealing smirk. "I’m gonna have to do something with these hands of yours if you’re gonna grab at shit without permission, yeah?"

You nodded a little too eagerly. His voice was heavy and deep with a depraved need to dominate you. To sully your skin with his desire. You weren’t going to stop him.

A cluster of feathers gathered in the air around you. You had nothing to fear, but watching them circle like small predators overhead made your heart pound against your ribs like a drum. They swarmed you and ensnared your wrists. The strength of his quirk easily had you overpowered. Your hands slammed into the headboard, pinned down by his feathers which trembled with excitement. You were now at his mercy.

“You’ll get your hands back when you’ve earned them,” he informed you through gritted teeth, but you were so mesmerized by the features of his face you hardly heard his words. Beautiful, that's what he was. You'd never told him how his appearance left you breathless. It could scare him away if you said such sweet things too often, but you’d held your heart back for so long it only felt fair to let it beat this once. 

“You’re so gorgeous,” you whispered.

He trembled. His eyes widened in startled confusion, and then his cheeks dusted the faintest shade of red. God, that only made your heart thump harder. His did, too; you could feel it rattle through his chest and against your stomach.

"What was that?"

You bit your lip, embarrassed, but echoed the statement a bit more sheepishly. "I said… you're gorgeous."

Your mattress groaned as he folded back onto his knees. The flaming red limbs on his back lowered until they rested against your sheets. Something about that sweet little compliment tore into him like nothing you had ever said before. That desire that flickered behind his eyes blazed out of control. His kisses landed on your knees before he placed a gentle caress of his lips on the innermost part of your thigh. So close to your pussy that the heat of his breath made you slick.

His other glove was abandoned somewhere on the floor, which rendered both his hands bare. A low groan spilled from him as he pressed his thumbs into either side of your heat. His jaw went slack and his breath erratic as he spread you open.

"So are you," he said, but it was muttered so softly you almost didn't hear.

His head dipped down. The tendrils that framed his forehead fell over your midriff as his tongue caressed your twitching flesh. The hot, wet muscle lapped hungrily between your folds. It flicked at your clit, and your legs trembled on either side of his head. His mouth working you open like that was enough to fog your mind entirely.

“You like that?” he cooed between the slurps of his mouth against you. "Oh, I bet you fucking do."

You replied with only a strangled whimper as you tugged uselessly at the feathers that bound you. You were desperate to comb your fingers through his downy hair, to fist it in your hands and press his face hard into you. A low chuckle flowed from his open mouth and tickled your flinching flesh. Another cry tore from your throat.

“My poor baby, so desperate,” he sighed after placing a kiss against your clit.

His poor baby. He hummed that phrase with such possessive intensity. He was right. Even if it was unspoken, you and your body belonged to him and him alone.

The warmth of his palms traveled back up your stomach and squeezed your breasts roughly. “Forcing you to wait so long for me, did I neglect my sweet little Chickpea? Hmm, I better make up for it, huh?"

God, the way his husky voice reverberated against your flesh was the most delicious form of torture. You bit your lip and nodded, and he rewarded you with a finger. It slid carefully into you, and his hand caressed your insides. You cried a loud, indecipherable string of mangled words. All grasp on language left you as he curled his fingers up and flicked his wrist.

“Aw, what are you trying to say, Sweetheart?” he huffed. All the little nicknames only pushed you further into your need for him. “You wanna feel my fat cock push into that pretty little pussy?”

A sharp inhale burned your throat.

“P-please!” you choked. Your voice was cracked and pitiful when it finally tore from you, and a wonderfully wonton sound fell from him.

“Please what, huh? Please what?” he gasped.

“Fuck me! I want it- I want your cock- PLEASE.”

“Ohhhhh, that sounds so pretty comin’ outta your mouth,” came his long, low growl. As a reward for your begging, he dragged the wetness of his tongue along the length of your little pink slit.

The rough material of his jeans slid down your inner thighs as he mounted you. The shaft of his hot, bare cock pressed flush against your sex. Clusters of his feathers bunched behind the bends in your knees and forced them back, which splayed you helplessly open. You watched as he bit into his lip and rubbed himself against your wetness. You couldn't look away as the most intimate part of his body sheathed itself in yours. 

The most delicious pressure overwhelmed your aching senses. Fuck. FUCK.  He moved slowly. It may have been meant as mercy, but to your sex-starved body, it felt torturous. The ridges of his dick caught at your swollen walls before the tip of it pressed agonizingly slow into the bottom of you. 

“Hawks! Oh my god, I can’t fucking take this!” your throat jerked and trembled just like your aching thighs. Your hips pumped in desperation for friction where your bodies connected. “Give it to me, give it- I swear to god- FUCK!”

Once you gave him control of your body, he lost control of his own. The mattress groaned when he slammed into you. His teeth dug into your throat, laying his claim on you as he panted for breath. His loose belt buckle beat at your outer thighs, and your bed frame groaned in protest with each merciless thrust. His hands dug into your flesh and locked you into his jarring pumps. He pinned you down as if he expected you to play the fighting game, but you didn't resist his cock this time. You didn't want a battle. You wanted your lover. Your moaning whimpers broke and cracked as his jerking hips rocked the wind from you.

He pounded into you too fast for your mind to keep up. Your scarred body buckled and stung under his animalistic need, but the shockwaves of pleasure that rolled through your core kept you begging him for more. More. More. 

His mind was so fogged that he lost his focus on his feathers. The clusters binding you down came loose without his influence, and you easily pulled out of them to throw your arms around his neck. His wings spread out and bristled until they were pressed against the walls, puffed and massive. His forehead was against yours. His hot breath puffed in your face, and his beautiful body was pleasured with yours. 

"Fuck, fuck! Please- Let me come inside you," he pleaded. His eyes were hazy and fogged, his mouth was slack and face a deep red. His body’s cooing song was so loud you could feel it in your own chest. The familiar smell of his cologne intermingled with the musk of sex and blurred your mind. You wanted every piece of him he'd give you.

"Y-yes, please, please," you begged between the hard smacks of his skin against yours. 

Your eyes shot open as his pace quickened. His wings… they were falling apart. Those beautiful eyes of his lulled further into the back of his head with each bone shivering slap of flesh. His teeth bared and his lips twitched as he pressed your bodies roughly together. Shivers rolled through his muscles, and those fierce wings of his were reduced to twitching little nubs on his back as he came.

You ran your hands between his shoulder blades as you marveled at his feathers. They littered the air as they weaved feverishly around one another. The gentle touch of your hands brought Hawks down from his high, and his feathers slowed until they lazily spun like autumn leaves. You pulled him down into a tight embrace and buried your face into his hair. He heaved into your chest, and you watched all the little pieces of him flutter around your room in the light of the moon.

He often lost control of his wings when you made love. They'd fluff up and flap wildly when he came, which often knocked shelves from your walls and your lamp from your bedside table. That was the first time he shed his feathers, and you were in awe.

"Are you okay?" he asked. His voice was gravely and shuttered between labored breaths.

“Yeah, I’m just... admiring," you said as you stared over his shoulder. He glanced behind him, and his cheeks tinted the faintest shade of pink when he realized the pitiful state of his wings. The little red feathers spread all around your room stilled in the air and swarmed to his back, returning his iconic limbs to their full glory.

“Er, you managed to pluck me. How embarrassing,” he quipped. You were so sore and exhausted from his sex all you could manage was a little laugh. You were a gasping mess, though, when he finally pulled out of you. The loss of pressure was a relief, but it also left you feeling empty. You laid quiet and trembling as he leaned back to marvel over the mess he made of you. His thumbs spread you open again, and he let out a breathless moan as you felt his come leak from you. His head dipped between your thighs. That beautiful tongue of his flicked out and lapped at the mess on your pussy. The warm wriggling of the muscle shocked your swollen clit and made you cry out, but you couldn't bear to ask him to stop. It satisfied something in you to watch as he licked you clean of your slick and his own come.

When he was content that he'd cleaned you thoroughly, he laid his body carefully beside you in your bed. His fingers tangled in your hair as he locked you into a kiss. You could taste the sex he licked from you on his tongue. 

The sex was always feverish and ravishing, but the afterglow was your addiction. In the beginning, it was rare. To kiss and caress crossed the line into his discomfort, but the more he learned to trust you the more of his affection you earned. The man who feared human touch began to ask for hugs every visit. Kisses became frequent and pleasant the more he let you do it. Then came sex that felt less like vicious wars and more like making love. Yes, after everything you did to earn his intimacy, nothing felt as lovely as lying naked beneath his plush plumage. 

His feathers caressed every inch of your aching body. His warm mouth, still wet from the sex, pressed gentle kisses onto your face. Your head rested against his arm as your breath slowly steadied. His wing flexed and rested on your shoulder as if tucking you in beneath a plush comforter.

“Mm. You like that?” he pondered breathlessly. His fingers trailed up your scarred side until they combed through your hair. There was a ginger softness to the touch that made your heart quiver. He smiled at you, those yellow eyes pierced through the dim light and into your soul. as you reached your hand out to run your fingers under his jaw. 

“Do you need to ask?” you hummed. Your cheeks were still red and your chest quaked as you slowly came down from the high. 

He laughed. What a lovely, airy sound. You hummed in the glory of the moment. And, for the first time in what felt like a lifetime, you could breathe again. Typically, he’d spend his days off kicked back on your living room couch with a tall bottle of something hard in his hand. You’d go a week or so without seeing him when things got tense in the hero world, of course, but in the last two months, you’d had him for only a handful of nights. It was concerning, but you knew better than to ask. No matter how close the two of you had become he would never talk to you about work.

“It's been a while since you last flew in,” you noted as you got comfortable beneath his plumage. His body beside yours was the definition of comfort. Your mind could only be at peace when he was safe in your bed. “It’s nice to see you again, I was worried.”

“I know, it’s been too long. No need to worry, though, Chickpea, I’m right here,” he replied. His slow exhale tangled in your hair, and his hand's gentle touch found your cheek. He offered no explanation for his lengthy absences, but he and his crimson wing caressed you with apologies. 

You relaxed to the sound of his steady breath through the dim blue light of your bedroom. The wing he draped over you was so plush and warm you could easily fall asleep. You might have, if not for the fear of waking up without him. You scooted closer to wind your arms around his chest and bury your face in his neck. 

"I really wish you could stay," you whispered. 

To let your love get in his way was the last thing you wanted, but it was the utterance of a moment of weakness. It was uncharacteristic of you, the pathetic way it sounded, and you felt him stiffen under your arm as he soaked in your request. While there was never a confession of love, you'd tamed the wild bird with years of patience and earnest affection. He was loyal to you. It was cruel of you to ask for something you knew he couldn't give.

“Ah… I would if I could help it, you know that,” he sighed into your forehead, “but I can try to stay until morning.”

“Please. I’d like that.” It came out like the voice of a frightened child, but it was difficult to hide your need for him anymore. 

If you dwelled any further on the possibility of him vanishing, your emotions were going to get the better of you. You played with the feathers draped over your shoulder to calm yourself. A small one by your face was pinched between your fingers as you rolled the barbs around.

"Your wings are filthy," you mused. Dirt particles littered the poor things. You were sure, with some rooting, you'd find a few bugs he’d picked up in the air, too. "Actually, all of you is filthy. You got dirt all in my sheets, bird brain."

"Oh. Shit, my bad," he murmured as he sat upright. You shivered when the warmth of his wing left you.

"Hm, it's fine. Throw your clothes in the wash and I'll get a shower ready for you, sound good?"

“Sounds good.”

The bed creaked in relief when he stood. His frame was slender and small, but his wings at least doubled the weight of him. That was evident with how smothering being beneath him could feel. He kicked off his pants, though his body was still covered by the black and gold bodysuit he wore beneath them. It warmed your heart to see him carry his uniform out of your room and hear him tinker with the washer on the other side of the wall. The sound of the cloth being tossed inside followed by the creak of an opening cabinet seeped through the drywall, followed by the pop of the detergent lid coming off.

He was intimately familiar with your tiny abode. You’d made sure things stayed in the same place so he'd know where everything was the next time he'd visit. You'd been especially anal about it since he'd often be gone for such long periods at a time. When he returned, you wanted your home to feel like it belonged to him, too.

A sensation overcame you as you laid alone in your bed. The sheets were warm from the love you’d just made. Despite his tongue cleaning you off, you could still feel the faint warmth of him inside of you. His contented sigh found you through the wall and your heart burst.

To the rest of the world, he was a hero, but he was so much more to you. You'd give anything to have him completely. For his voice to echo, groggy and sheepish, against your walls every morning. To get to kiss him goodbye before the sun rose, and to welcome him home every afternoon with a warm embrace. For a ring on your finger; a crib in the bedroom. That wasn’t the kind of life that was meant for him, though. As long as he was afraid of you being hurt, those secret nights were all you’d ever have. It made sense. He had enemies, and you could only imagine how your quiet life would turn upside down if you ended up in the pages of a tabloid.

You only spent time together in the privacy of your apartment. Even after two years of being close to him, there was so little you knew about his life separate from you. What little you did know only made you frustrated on his behalf. You held out hope that it could eventually change, for your sake and his.

Preening Hawks was your favorite thing to do with him. There was something special about being across from one another in the shower, naked, warm water rushing over your bodies as your fingers smoothed and placed his dampened feathers. It took the first year of your friendship for him to allow you to touch them at all, so it was an obvious display of his trust in you. Which was understandable. His wings were an integral part of his identity. You watched as he ran his hands over his face and into his hair. His expression was in a relaxed state of bliss as your fingers picked through his plumage.

With his massive wings on either side of you like plush, padded walls, it felt like nothing in the world could get you. His laughter echoed around the small room as he told jokes and stories. It was okay if you didn't have anything to say, or if you just wanted to listen. He would talk for you when you fell short, and that's usually what got you laughing. 

Through the gentle moment, though, you couldn't help but let your emotions get the better of you. During times like those, when his visits were few and far between, your mind danced around the question of why. The possibilities bounced between him either being in danger or losing interest in you. Both were scary thoughts since he had become such an integral part of your life.

"Would you mind if I ask something?" you pondered, which accidentally interrupted a story he'd been telling about an intern of his.

"Depends what it is.”

"Well… there are a million girls out there who'd gladly do this with you," you mused, and it was true, even if it stung a little to remember. "Did you decide to do this with me because it was convenient?" 

That had been your reason, initially. Hawks spent a lot of time hanging around your apartment and he just happened to be wildly attractive. There were no feelings when he’d first asked if he could fuck you. That didn't come until later.

He laughed, and you glared at him.

“Self-doubt, huh? That isn’t like you. Me being away a lot’s really shaken you up, huh?” 

"It's not self-doubt, I'm just genuinely curious," you quipped as you pulled a feather from his wing. They'd moult if they hung around too long, so pulling out the loose ones was a help to him.

"Well… what we have going on is far from convenient," he said. "If that's what I was going for, I'd go after a pro that could keep a secret. It ain't easy to sneak away like this, you know."

So even a pro hero would have to be a secret for him? Did Hawks have any chance at all for a normal life?

“I wanted you, and if I want something, I go for it.”

You swallowed down a breath you’d been holding, but you didn’t say anything else as you watched his eyes dance around the bathroom in thought. 

"And I wanted you because… well, there were a lot of reasons. The night we met was a big one, I guess.”

You looked away. That night felt taboo to mention, considering all the guilt you knew he harbored. Your scars weren’t his fault. Several villains were on a rampage, and your hospital was in the destructive path. You were just another civilian, caught in the crossfire. His feathers tried, but they couldn’t get you out of the building. You’d been partially crushed beneath the rubble. 

“I was sure it was the end of the road for me. It would have been if you and your quirk hadn’t been trapped inside with me. You have a forcefield. You could have used it to protect yourself, but you bubbled me instead. You were gonna die. I was so sure you were gonna die and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it.”

Still, your lips wouldn’t move. You’d spent ten months in an ICU after you were crushed beneath the weight of two stories of concrete. If not for the healing quirks of EMTs, you wouldn’t have survived at all. If not for your sacrifice, Hawks wouldn’t have, either. Still, it wasn’t his fault.

 “Still hurts to know I couldn’t help you when you needed me most, but when I looked in your eyes, there wasn't a hint of fear. All I saw was determination. I never met someone who was so sure of their choices, even in the face of death," he recalled. Your emotions skirted between sadness and flattery as you heard his thoughts. If only you could live up to that selfless picture of you, now. “I know a lot of pros who could only hope to have that kind of resolve.”

“Damn, when you tell it you make me sound like a badass,” you quipped, and your laughter bounced around the shower stall.

“I mean, what are the requirements to be donned with the title of badass? I’m sure you’re overqualified. Either that or you’re fucking crazy, which is also a possibility.”

You snorted.

“I'm not crazy. My job is to help people after they've been hurt. If I bubbled you instead, I’d be saving every person you’d live to protect. Before they would need a nurse like me. It’s just what made sense.”

He was silent for a moment as he absorbed your reasoning. You tended to be rational, even in the most emotional of situations. But that borderline-robotic way of thinking was a by-product of your own miseries.

You were a nurse in a world overcome by demigods and treachery. Some of the things you'd seen in the OR would haunt you for the rest of your life. And, sometimes, those ghosts came to torment you in your dreams. That made it hard the first time Hawks slept in your bed. You would sometimes wake with tears in your eyes as your voice quivered out sobs. Your past lovers didn't understand that part of you. The broken part. The part that had been poisoned by the darker side of this superpowered world. 

That's what fostered your love for Hawks. When he had awoken early that morning to you crying beside him, he’d only reacted with a patient embrace. He adored the bright parts of you, but he also had a solemn understanding and respect for your darkness. Having that connection through your mutual suffering was a kind of bond you’d never had before him. And now that you had it, you couldn't imagine life without. 

You went back to preening. You pressed up on your knees to reach a bit higher on his wing, and he watched intently. His voice died into silence as his gaze swept over your naked form, which dripped from the steam of the shower. It wasn't a surprise. Often, he would get lost in himself as he observed you, like a curious bird. It felt like a wordless compliment, so you silently allowed his eyes to explore you. Not that his hands and mouth and cock hadn't already drawn a map of you in his mind.

"Whatcha thinking about?" you teased playfully, and he hummed in response.

"How you look at my wings… I like it."

"Everybody looks at your wings," you said dismissively. A half-smile graced your face.

"You’re right. They do. People admire me because of what they’re capable of. It's what people think of first when they think of me, and rightfully so. They're hard to ignore. But when you look at me, you look at my face first, my wings second. It's like you admire them because they're a part of me, not because of what they can do. I appreciate that." 

Your fingers in said feathers slowed to a stop as he spoke. You smiled a little to yourself as you brushed them against a feather. He shivered. "Your quirk is a part of who you are. That's why I like cleaning them for you. It feels like I get to give you something special, but wings or not, I'd still want you."

Falling in love with Hawks was the best and worst thing you’d ever experienced. The pleasure of those beautiful moments seeped into your soul like a warm cup of tea. But the anguish that followed after he flew out your window… there wasn't a simile that could correctly describe the immeasurable pain. 

Your response must have triggered a long series of difficult thoughts for the bird. His head tilted slightly, his eyes hardened in expression and his brows furrowed as he soaked in your confession.

"In the year we've been doing this… has there ever been another man?" he pondered. The question jarred you. Occasionally, he'd get a touch possessive of his time with you. He’d asked a time or two who you were texting. You knew him well enough to pick up the hint of jealousy despite his light tone, but he never asked anything so outright.

“Well, look who's got self-doubt now. You sure are eager for a lot of questions and confessions tonight. What’s gotten into you?” you asked.

He shrugged. “You asked a question, so it's my turn now. Besides, we’ve been close for a couple of years. We've been intimate for half of that. just seems a little silly to keep up the fuck buddies act. Or is it just me?”

Fuck buddies act? You bit your lip. Hard. When he was with you he was so relaxed. This seriousness was unusual, and it made your wet skin rough with goosebumps.

"It's not just you," you confessed. 

For a short while, the bathroom was filled with only the sound of the running shower as you collected your confession. 

"There hasn't been another man since you. I mean… I've gone on dates a few times, but it never got that far," you replied. The moment another man kissed you… Well, kisses felt dirty if they were with anyone other than Hawks. "I know this thing you and I have going on was meant to be a no strings attached kind of affair, but… Well, if I’m being honest with you, it feels wrong trying to sleep with anyone but you. I like what we have, and I've always got the impression that you really do, too."

He didn't say anything. You weren't sure whether or not that was what he wanted to hear.

"Have you?" you asked. "Been with anyone else?"

You’d never asked before. At first, it was because it didn't feel like your business. Then, when the thought eventually made your heart ache, you didn't ask because you didn't want to know. But now that you had come clean, it only felt fair that he did, too.

Air left his nose and his head bobbed back until his wet hair pressed against the shower stall.

"Once,” he confessed, and he sounded ashamed now that he knew you never did. “I used to have this on again, off again thing, before I knew you. I messed with her a few weeks after you and I first… well, you know. But only once, then never again.”

You’d thought it would crush you to learn he’d been with someone else, but it didn’t sting like you thought it would. Probably because you didn't know specifics. If you knew what woman had her hands on him, if you could see it, it probably would destroy you. But the apologetic way he said it put your heart at ease. He mumbled like he knew it would hurt you, and he didn’t want it to. But you weren’t wounded, and your feelings weren’t perturbed. He never promised you anything, just as you’d never made promises to him.

“Why’d you stop seeing her?” you asked as you scooted closer to smooth shampoo suds down in his hair. He only shrugged at first, then sighed in contemplation when your fingers combed along his scalp.

“I’ve never had a place I could go to, you know?” he said. “I’ve never had somewhere like this, where I can lay my head for a little while and just be…”

“Pampered?” you suggested as your hands moved to massage his shoulder blades between his wings.

He breathed out a little laugh, but shook his head. “Yeah, but that’s not what I was thinkin’.”

“Out with it then,” you teased.

“Well… I’ve never had somewhere I’ve felt safe and... cared about?” he said, though his eyes were distant and lost when he said it, as if he wasn’t sure he should have.

“I gotta always be looking over my shoulder. Gotta always have a mask on and hope no one ever sees through it. But here, everything’s relaxed. You couldn’t care less what my ranking on some chart is or how much money is in my pocket. You don't give a shit about heroing or the tabloids. You’re the only person in my life who asks for nothing other than my company. I feel human here. I didn’t want to jeopardize that, or what I had with you. That’s why I stopped seeing her.”

Your mouth went dry. While your nights were long and passionate, you’d never whispered sweet nothings. You’d never told him how much he and his company meant to you because you felt he wouldn’t want to hear it, but he kept coming back. For a year he had clung wordlessly to what little affection you gave him. If he’d told you this a year prior, you would have given him so much more love.

“So you do have deeper feelings for me. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

He was silent, as you’d expected him to be. He both craved and feared the closeness he’d formed with you. At times he’d drown you in sweet little bits of affection, but, when things got too deep, he would shut down. Through the last couple of years, you’d broken through a lot of his walls, but the cold influence of the commission would always be with him. Even if he was in love with you, he’d never understand how to tell you.

"Because of who I am when I fly out your window,” he began. The reverb of his voice against the shower stall took you off guard. You didn’t expect him to answer. "There are things I know you want from me… things that I can’t give you right now, and you deserve more than that. That’s why I never planned on telling you… Fuck. It was never supposed to be like this…”

He spoke more to himself than he did to you at that moment. There was an internal battle going on in his mind; one you'd never really be able to understand, but you wanted to try. 

"You mean you never meant to get attached?"

His silence was telling.

"It's okay," you said. "We don't have to talk about anything you don't want to." You took a hold of his hand, but he flinched away from you. He was regressing back into old habits. It had been months since he’d last recoiled to your affection. Something was terribly wrong. The recoil was fine. It was okay. Whatever he needed to feel comfortable. "I'm sorry-" 

"No, I'm sorry," he interrupted. He rubbed the wrist you had touched as if you'd burned him. His brow was knit and his mouth became a harsh line. "Sometimes it feels easy and other times it doesn't, but I'm trying."

"I know you are. Like I said, we don't have to talk about feelings." 

He stared at you, and the longer his gaze rested on your face, the softer it became, "I want to try." 

You nodded and wrapped your arms around your naked knees. The shower had been turned off long ago by a cluster of his feathers, but the soothing steam still lingered around you. 

“It's just… this is difficult. One day someone may shoot me out of the sky. The thought of you still being right here, waiting for me, when I can never come back… It... kills me." He paused, his eyes hazed over as he swallowed his emotion down. The rawness in his voice struck such an unpleasant chord that your own eyes pricked with bitter water. "That's why I didn’t want attachments like this. But I didn't mean for all this between you and me. You snuck into me slowly, I didn't even notice until it was too late."

"Is this supposed to be flattering? It sounds like you're likening me to a parasite or something- heartworm," you quipped in an effort to dispel the heavy tension. He smiled, but only for a moment before he rolled his eyes at you. 

"Just… listen to me," he said, and your eyes trained on his as your mouth closed. "If that ever happens… If there comes a day you've been waiting for me, only to find out I'm never coming back, please know that I cared for you."

He didn't use the word love, but that's very much what he was trying to convey. In a way, you’d kind of always knew. It was why he’d said it, how he’d said it, that made your eyes prick with tears at their corners. The thought of what he was implying petrified you. Hawks was so skilled, so powerful, so almighty. Despite all his power, though, he was human, just like you. The night you’d met proved how possible death was for him. Nothing could keep him safe forever, not even your forcefields.

But he’d never talked like this before. He was always so light-hearted and relaxed. His work and the dangers associated with it was off the menu of conversion topics. What had happened to bring all this darkness up now?

"You talk like you’re preparing for death." 

Again, he didn’t reply. His silence was more terrifying than anything he could have said, but trying to pry him open would only break him, it seemed. So you didn’t.

“May I kiss you?” you asked instead. 

He nodded.

You leaned forward and breathed into his ear. He shivered when you placed a gentle kiss on the shell of it. His earring pressed against your lip was a gentle and familiar feeling, but after you heard all he had to say it also felt fleeting. He always had some ulterior motive or hidden reason for every little thing he did. It's as if he said all this because tomorrow would be the day he was gone.

“I’m not preparing to die.” Your kiss gave him the courage to speak. "I have too much to live for. It’s just always a possibility- for anybody, really. But heroes especially. I just wanted it off my chest is all."

He smiled at you, but you’d seen every smile in his repertoire, and this one was faker than your stick-on-backsplash. The air never felt so tense between you. Not even the night you met, dying feet away from each other. It all felt so… heavy. The weight of it pressed hard into your chest.

“Er, this reminds me, while we're on topic, I got some things going on at the agency. I hate to say it, but you won't see me again for a little while. I don’t know how long. It could be a couple of months.” His disposition remained fake casual. His shoulders and face were relaxed as he enjoyed the steam of the shower, but his wings tensed. You felt it in your palms as you preened him.

"You're in trouble," you said. Your mouth went dry as the realization drained the color from your face. 

"Trouble? Me? Nah. Just work stuff."

He spoke with a relaxed air about him, but he couldn’t lie to you. 

"No. You've been acting off all night. You’ve been making all these confessions. Talking about death, telling me you're going away for a while. I know you better than you think I do; something big happened and you're trying to tie up loose ends in case you don't get out of it okay," you rambled, and the more you talked the higher your voice became. It trembled and wavered with building fear. 

He stared at you. That silly face of his melted into a thin line and sharp, angular eyes. Those tricks worked when no one was close enough to see through them, but you knew his genuine smile like the back of your hand. You saw right through his facade, and he was annoyed by the very determination he just prided you for. 

"Can't get anything past you, can I?" 

You didn't whimper, but your eyes became glossy with emotion. It was a strange mixture of panic, sorrow, and rage. You had no idea what he'd gotten into, but you also knew he would never tell. He placed preserving missions above all else, which made sense but was frustrating.

"I don't know what's going on, but you need to get out of it if you're thinking it's something you may not come back from." 

"Things aren't that simple. I chose this life, I gotta follow through."

"No, I chose to be a nurse when I was sixteen and understood the implications of what I'd have to go through. You were fucking six when the commission took you, and they spent all that time gaslighting and taking advantage of you-"

"We aren’t talking about that right now, don't use it against me.” 

"Use it- what? I'm not using anything against you! You’re the one alluding to death! There’s nothing wrong at the agency, there’s something else- something terrible-" 

"Drop it.”

“How can I?!”

"Because I said so." His eyes were narrow and mouth a tight, thin line. You could read him so well. He was regretting this. All of this, because now you were onto whatever suicide mission he was embarking on. But, as his lover, how could you just sit back and silently watch him throw himself into a danger that had even him shaken?

You got louder, and he got louder. You tossed bitter, confused words back and forth until he was screaming. Until you were screaming back at him. Your calm, laid back demeanor slipped through your fingers the moment you realized he could be in over his head. That, if you let him leave, this could be the last night you’d ever spend with him. Your anger was driven by your fear for his life, and his was driven by your inability to let it go. 

He was still screaming. You were still screaming. You were fighting him. He just told you you were the most important person in his life, and you were spitting venom. 

You stopped.

He stopped.

Your hand came to your bare chest as it heaved in an attempt to steady your breath. The other came up to wipe the tears budding in your eyes. He looked away from you, his brow tugged heavily downward, his jaw clenched together in shame.

"Let’s just breathe, okay?" you pleaded.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," you whimpered into your hand. "Out of everyone in the world, you're the last who needs to say sorry, so don't. It's just- it's not right, okay? You're too… I don't know, selfless? I watch all the time as that gets taken advantage of. Doesn’t it get tiring? Even your name is some dirty secret. I've been sleeping with you for a year and I don't even know what it is-"

"Yes, you do," he argued, his lip wavered with weakness for one vulnerable moment. "You know me- you know my name."

Desperation laced between his words and strung the sentence together. It wasn't easy to see your lover look at you that way, just begging for you to let pieces of him go. It was hard to accept it, but whatever name he went by prior to heroism didn't exist anymore. Neither did the once innocent child it belonged to. You tried to respect that, but it was unfair he was denied a basic human right: to have a name. 

"You're Hawks, I know, I'm sorry… it's just… how much is left of yourself that actually belongs to you? How long until there’s nothing left to give? People have taken so much from you that you’ve become numb to it; do you even know what you're missing out on? Do you even know how lonely you are? When’s the last time anybody even asked if you were okay?"

He realized, then, that you weren't angry at him.

You were angry for him.

His eyes shifted to yours, and he nibbled at his bottom lip before he muttered with the quirk of his mouth: “Well, you ask me that pretty much every time you see me.”

There it was. The crack in your voice. The crinkle of your nose and the tremble of your lip. You cried, and he sat there across from you, still bare as his wings lowered to either side of you. His expression didn't change, and, for once, you couldn't read it. You didn't want to be so upset, but knowing he was in some kind of dangerous trouble that shook even him was too much for you to bear.

"I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions. It’s just… Do you have any idea how many heroes I've wheeled into the morgue? People die on my table all of the time. Every time is just as hard as the last, but the heroes- those are the ones that destroy me. Because every time someone in a cape lands on the table I know their families are waiting for them at home, just like I wait here for you.

"I saved you once, but you're so far away from me, too far for my forcefields to reach you. Hearing you say you’re going away- all I can think of is coming into work one day and finding you c-... covered in a sheet."

His wings moved up from the shower floor. The feathers were dark with dampness as their joints pressed into your back. You sat there like that as he let you cry. Really, what else could he have done? What else could you have done? Of course you were angry. You would be for the rest of your life over how his panned out. His childhood was taken from him, his understanding of human affection was still stunted, even after all the time you spent gently undoing what damage had been done. Now he talked like one wrong move would end it all.

"It's… difficult," he began, though he couldn't make eye contact with you. He usually couldn't when you had discussions like this. "Being a hero isn’t what I imagined I would be when I was a kid. And sometimes I do ask myself: 'what is this all for? There's always going to be a new bad guy. Why does it matter?' And then I think about you…" 

He went silent for a moment; you could see the little battle behind his eyes. The battle between his affection deprived confusion and his need to be closer to you. To explain himself. 

"I think about you and it reminds me there are good people who are worth fighting for. As long as you are here and there are bad people out there that could hurt you, I have to be out there, too. And, yeah, sometimes I get afraid. But as long as I have these wings, I'm going to use them to keep this world safe for you."

He’d never felt so close to you, and yet so far away. He thought even more of you than you anticipated. A part of you felt touched you'd become a cornerstone for his sanity in such a hostile world, but the other part felt sick. If he wanted to fight for you, that was fine.

But to die for you; that would be unforgivable.

The urge to argue the worth of his life weighed heavy on your heart. If you did, he would call you hypocritical, considering your own history of self-sacrifice. It wasn’t the same, though. His self-worth depended on his usefulness to others and little else, and you feared the day that usefulness ran out. What would Hawks be, if not a hero? It should have such a simple answer, like what you would be if not a nurse. But it didn't. It never would.

You leaned forward to pull him into a tight hug. Perhaps when he was anywhere else you were unable to protect him, but right there, in your arms, you'd use whatever you could to keep him safe. Your bubbles, your kind words, anything. 

"I understand," you said, because you knew there were no words that could keep him away from the hero path. It wasn't just a part of his identity; it was all he'd ever known. "Just… don't forget when the heroing is said and done, you'll always have a place here if you need it."

He hummed a small, contented coo at your kindness. Of course, you didn't have to tell him that. He already knew. Why else would he spend so much of his precious little free time cuddled up to you? 

"I'll remember," he promised as his arms and damp wings curled in to squeeze you against him. 

You and Hawks bathed in the comforting darkness of your bedroom. Your window was frosted from the bitter cold outside, but his body heat kept you warm in the safety of your bed. Or nest, rather, as Hawks tended to construct mounds of tangled comforters and wadded up bedsheets to hide in as he got comfortable. You were buried beneath the mass of cloth and the cocoon of his wings as you tried to fall asleep. It was a difficult undertaking since you didn’t know when you’d see him again. You were so tired, but you wanted to be awake to hold him for what little time you had left. 

You wouldn’t have gotten any sleep, anyway.

Often when Hawks slept in your bed you'd awaken at strange hours. Sometimes this was due to your own nightmares. The subject bounced between the traumatic things you’d seen at the hospital and the night you’d met. You'd wake to find that you’d encased your bed in your protective bubble during your sleep, and Hawks' wings squeezed you gently against his chest. Other nights, it was Hawks' anxiety that would keep you awake.

During the day, his guard was discreetly up. He carried carefree conversations as if unbothered, but those well-trained feathers of his were on constant guard. Really, he never had a moment to breathe. This was something you never would have understood the depths of if you weren't woken by his anxiety in the midst of the night. The anxiety he kept bottled during the day often let itself out in the form of night terrors. He'd mumble. Roll. His wings would twitch over you. His face would morph into an agonized expression, and he chirped in distress. A good, gentle shake was usually all it took to pull him out of the bad dream. 

That night his nerves reared their head, though in an unorthodox way. Apparently, you did fall asleep, because you awoke with a small grumble when you felt the mattress groan, followed by a heavy weight draping over your body. You let out a long whine of displeasure, but the weight just got heavier. You turned your head and opened your eyes to find Hawks, but he wasn't gasping in his sleep. He laid over you, wings puffed but flat on either side of your bed as he stared at the bedroom door.

"Hawks? You're squishing me." 

He didn't answer or turn to look at you. Those sharp eyes of his danced around in panic, his feathers raised as they sensed every small movement in your apartment. You dropped your head back onto your pillow with a sigh. 

"What's the matter?" you pondered.

"Shh," he hummed. "I felt something…"

You laid and listened for a short while, but all you could hear was the lady in the apartment above you walking across her floor.

"It's my neighbor."

"What if it's not?" 

Whether the display was the primal instruction from the bird in him to protect his mate or if it was a by-product of the harsh reality of the life he lived, you weren't sure. Either way, his calm and almost lazy facade cracked. When the world was quiet and his feathers could sense every mundane movement in your apartment, his anxiety that those small bumps in the night might be something that could hurt you overwhelmed him.

The little display was an annoyance to your sleep-deprived brain, but his first thought in the midst of his worry was to protect you. That spared him from your groggy wrath. 

"Lay down, McNugget. There's no one there," you grumbled, but he didn't turn his head away from the door. 

Feeling your hand on his face seemed to snap him back into the moment, even if just a little. He leaned into you and encased you in his wings. It felt like a protective gesture, but the warmth you found beneath them made you hum pleasantly. The fluffy white cloth of his hoodie rubbed your cheeks as he cuddled into you. Well, actually, it was your hoodie. 

At one time it was just some old thing you'd snagged from a thrift store on a chilly day. It was much too large for you, though. When Hawks came into your life later on, you'd cut holes out of the back and hemmed it up. That way he'd have a little something to throw on when it got chilly at your place. He never said it out loud, but he loved the thing. He'd go looking for it if you didn't leave it laying out in the living room. 

"I know you usually have a lot to be afraid of, but you don't have to worry about protecting me. I'm a badass, remember?" you whispered into the shell of his ear. His shoulders relaxed just a bit, and he puffed out a little chuckle. 

"Yeah, I know. I just… I want you to be safe. That's all." 

Your gaze softened, though he couldn't see it in the darkness. You didn't need Hawks to protect you. You didn't need a hero. You needed a best friend; a lover. Between the both of you, he was the one in most need of saving.

"Shh," you hummed gently. Your hair lifted from your pillow and danced slowly around your face as if gravity was lost to you. He scrunched his nose as your locks brushed his cheeks, and his wings settled flat as a ring rose from the floor around your bed. The translucent wall came together above your bodies to form a hard, bubble shell.

"You've been the hero long enough. Let me be the protector tonight,” you said. His throat bobbed against your shoulder as his arms wound around you. He settled, but you still felt his unease.

“What’s got your feathers ruffled?”

“You shouldn’t have to protect me,” he said. His voice was muffled since his mouth was pressed into your skin, but you still heard the sadness in it. “I should be taking care of you.”

You blinked as you soaked in his words. For a year you pined for such romantic things to come out of his mouth. Of course he’d wait for a night like that night to say such sickeningly sweet things. The future that used to feel so full of mystery and excitement had become dangerous, uncertain, and disappointing.

“You don’t have to be the hero every time,” you replied.

“But if I’m not a hero, what am I?”

His question was an echo of your fears. The ambient light from your window filtered dimly into your forcefield, but your eyes couldn’t adjust with tears in them.

“I don't know if I have the answer you're looking for, but... Do you remember when I was in the hospital?" you asked. "When you first came to see me you brought a twenty-piece box of chicken nuggets, and while I was trying to eat one you laughed until you were crying because it looked vaguely like a penis.”

“Vaguely? It had balls and everything,” he recalled, and you rolled your watering eyes.

“Whatever. It was stupid, but it was the first time I laughed since I was trapped in that hospital. And, well… when they said I’d never walk again you helped me out of bed. I cried myself to sleep some nights, but you were there, still trying to save me. You were trying to be a hero then, too, but you became my best friend. If nothing else, that's what you’ll always be to me.”

A sound came out of him akin to laughter. You shot him a look, then hooked your finger under his chin. You wanted to see his dumb grin when you berated him for poking fun at you. When his eyes met yours, though, they weren’t crinkled with laughter. They were red and watering.

“Oh, Hawks,” you breathed, and he tucked his face back into your arm to hide his vulnerability. He never cried before. At least not in front of you. He was always the immovable one, virtuous and strong. Moments like this reminded you just how human he was beneath it all.

“I’m right here. I’ve got you,” you assured him in a whisper. Gentle promises spilled from your lips like lullabies, and he clung to every word with heart-breaking desperation. You whispered every sweet nothing you could think of to ease his pain, but you didn’t have that kind of power. 

You had no power at all.

His world always seemed scary to you. You feared for his life every day, but the thought of him being ripped from your arms overwhelmed you that night more than it ever had before. The protective bubble that encased your bed would keep him safe for as long as you could fight sleep, but what of the morning? You’d be safe at home, and he’d be lost somewhere in the dangerous fray of his duties. Far away from your warmth and the apartment he found so much comfort in. 

This would not be the last time you held him. You had to believe that, but what if it was? What if this sleepless night was your last together? 

Tell him you love him, you thought to yourself. Tell him before you never get the chance again. 

You bit your lip as you felt his trembling breaths on your collar. You prepared your lips for the taste of the confession, but he was so vulnerable, more so than he may have ever been before. He didn’t need you to tell him about your affections, he needed you to use them.

You placed a reassuring crown of kisses along his forehead, and he gripped you so hard his knuckles were surely white. 

When you’d cried as a child, your mother would lay in your bed and sing lullabies until you fell asleep. Your voice was untrained and awkward compared to hers, but you tried your best to use it. Your off-key tune echoed back to you in the dome of your forcefield, and your cheeks pinkened with how childlike it sounded. Your embarrassment interrupted your lullaby. He stirred against your chest.

“Don’t stop,” he said. “Please, sing to me.”

You cleared your throat as you gathered the courage to start again. His eyes fell closed as your song settled into the safety of your shield. His feathers relaxed, and his face went slack as sleep slowly overtook him. You sang until his tears stopped flowing. You sang until he was asleep in your arms. For as long as you could, you laid awake. If you succumbed to sleep, so would your forcefield. So would your promise to keep him protected through the night. As time moved slowly forward, sleep inevitably began to settle into you, too. It was as terrifying and as peaceful as death.

“I love you,” you whimpered as you felt your eyes grow too heavy to fight back open. “Please… stay safe.”

Credits: 

A massive thank you to my wonderful friend and editor, @fuwafuwagem​! If you thought the fic looked especially polished, it’s thanks to her efforts!

Also a big thank you to my buddies and beta readers: @dendriticheep​ and @narcolepticroses​! Thanks you guys for being such sweet friends to me ;u;

And a huge thanks to YOU, for reading !

Authors Note:

I’d love to do a lot more fanfictions like these! If you have any suggestions or requests for animations or animated stories like this one feel free to submit it to me!

[randomshyperson]

Wanda Maximoff / Reader - The One Where You Punch Tony Stark - Chapter Three

Gif is not mine, but i love it.

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 4 ||  Read on AO3 (Complete Work)

Summary:  When the rumors that you punched Tony Stark in the face spread around your school, some interesting events unfolded.

Warnings:  18+; Enemies to Lovers;  Angry Sex; Underage Sex; High School AU;  Violence; Fights;  Inappropriate language; Fluff and Smut; minor mentions of Reader x Carol and Reader x Jessica Jones.

Notes:  This work was already finished on AO3, but i forgot to continue this on Tumblr. I hope everyone who thought that was a one shot, enjoy the rest of it.

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Chapter Three - Sometimes it’s just a date

You don't like water polo. Actually, you don't like watching the water polo team. 

With next week being finals week, you would like to have a quiet period. But then, the track and field and water polo finals are making the athletes restless, and you have to deal with the excitement of your colleagues around the halls. 

Maybe Natasha is right, you are pretty grumpy when it comes to socializing.

Participation in a sports team is mandatory from the first year on. Principal Thanos had approved this rule as an "incentive to healthy living," and only students with a medical condition could get away with it. You considered falsifying a medical history many times, but eventually you agreed to join the lacrosse team. You kept your performance average, just to maintain your grade. And even when the coach saw potential in you, you told her that you had no interest in participating in the championships. 

And then you were sitting on the team bench, watching your team play on the field while the crowd cheered as you watched. All sports were encouraged, after all, usually all students attended all kinds of games. You watched Natasha wave to you from the stands, and you smiled back. 

You were almost falling asleep, then a chorus of startled exclamations coming from the audience startled you, and you looked quickly at the field.

Your teammate, Gamora, suffered a foul and was being helped off the field by her teammates. You looked down the field with a frown, hoping that she was all right. But then she was taken off the field on a stretcher, her knee bandaged. It didn't take long before the coach came to you and signaled that you were going to have to replace the girl.

Letting out a grumble of protest, you stood up, grabbing the bat the coach offered you, and stepped onto the field.

Your approach to playing was interesting. You were aggressive and impatient, but efficient. You scored three points, and tried not to be bothered by the attention you were getting. And then, when your team won, you tried not to push the girls who jumped on you during the celebration. 

As you joined the team in the locker room, the coach asked to speak to you privately.

- I wanted to say that I was surprised by your performance, but in fact I always knew what you could do. - She commented as soon as you were alone in her room, inside the locker room. You shifted the weight of your feet, awkwardly.

- Thanks, I guess. - You say, and the teacher smiles tenderly at you.

- Tell me, Y/L, do you have plans for college? - she asks, leaning on her desk. 

- Not really, Coach. - You say. - I sent some applications, but after my suspension, I don't think I will have much of a chance.

- You know that something like a position on a regular team can count in your favor. - She comments, and you shrug.

- I have only played in two games so far. - You hit back. She smiles.

- Oh yes, and you performed flawlessly. - She says. - What I'm saying is, I could write you a letter of recommendation. If you commit to play with us until the end of the school year, of course.

You frown, thinking about it. 

- I wouldn't want to take Gamora's place.

The teacher laughs, shrugging her shoulders.

- Don't worry about it, we can arrange the team for you to play together. Besides that, unfortunately Gamora will not participate in at least two games because of her injury. And she will be happy to know that you are helping the team to win.

You nod, putting your hands in your pockets.

- Okay, I'll take it then. - You say. - Only for the letter of recommendation of course. - You joke, and the coach goes to one of the drawers. She pulls out a first team uniform. - This is yours. - She hands it to you. - And please try to control your temper on the field.

The coach winks at you, and you laugh slightly, accepting the uniform. You nod slightly and walk out of the room toward the showers.

- I can't believe you're a jock now! - Natasha jokes when you tell her you joined the team. You laugh, pushing her slightly. You are sitting at the tables in the outdoor cafeteria during the second break.

- Please don't say that. - You say playfully. Nat just smiles, taking a bite out of her snack.

- But anyway. - she says after a moment. - Are you still going to the concert on Saturday?

You let out a sigh and Nat looks at you curiously.

- I'll tell you something, and you promise not to hate me? 

Nat laughs, imitating a promise sign, and you shake your head, smiling.

- Go ahead, say it. You're making me curious. - She asks. You laugh, trying to build up courage.

- I have to tell Carol I'm not interested. - You begin, and Nat raises her eyebrows in surprise. - I'm liking someone else.

- Wow, Jones really got to you? - She assumes, and you laugh, denying it with your head. - Wait, there's a third girl? My God, you're unstoppable.

You laugh ruefully, and Nat follows you. You swallow dryly before speaking and look at the table where you are sitting.

- I am in love with Wanda Maximoff.

Nat lets out a surprised exclamation, and then laughs, thinking you were joking. And then she notices your expression, and widens her eyes in surprise.

- My God, you are serious! - she exclaims. But then she smiles at you, and puts her hand on your forearm. - Hey, I don't have a problem with that. I was just a little surprised.

- Really? - you ask with a sigh of relief. Nat smiles at you.

- Now explain to me how this happened. - She asks, cupping her face in her left hand as she looks at you intently. You take a sip of your soda before speaking.

- Actually, this has been going on for some time. - You confess. - Me and Wanda... well. The first person who knew I liked girls was her. - You tell, and Nat lets out a surprised exclamation, but does not interrupt you. - We have been in the same class since elementary school. When we were in eighth grade, she saw me kissing Mary Jane Watson behind the soccer fields. I asked her not to tell anyone, and she never did. - You say, and Nat listens attentively. - And then she became who she is now, and any interaction we had seemed like we were going to jump around each other's necks at any moment.  - You sighed. - And then, after the soccer game, I gave her an orgasm against the locker room wall.

- Wait, what? - exclaimed Natasha in surprise. - My god, you had sex with Wanda Maximoff? - She practically screamed and you raised your hands and waved for her to keep her voice down. Nat laughed with a mixture of disbelief and excitement. - I can't believe it. I don't even know what to think about it.

You mumbled with embarrassment, looking away.

- Just keep it down, please. - You asked, and Nat laughed. 

- Are you two in some kind of secret relationship now? - she asked, and you laughed ironically.

- Not at all. - You say. - She completely ignored me after that. And then we argued during Ms. Hill's class. 

- Shit, I'm sorry about that. But are you still willing to take this anywhere? Since you are going to dismiss Carol.

You blink slightly, thoughtfully. Then you shrug.

- I'm only going to dismiss Carol because it's not fair to be with her while thinking about another girl. - You explain. - And I don't expect Wanda to want anything to do with me anyway.

- I see. - Nat says, giving you a sad smile. - But I think she would be very stupid to let someone like you slip away.

You smile sadly, and you go back to eating. Before long the break is over, and you share Nat's displeasure at having to go to the health class.

Health classes are awkward. At least now that you and Natasha were friends, you were distracted by her jokes. Professor Wade Wilson was known for his humorous and completely unfiltered attitude during class. He made jokes and pranks, and didn't care much if the students were actually learning something. You remember when you were learning about the effects of alcohol on the body and he brought a bottle of whiskey and shared it among the students. Counselor Fury was not happy at all.

But occasionally you learned very important things in class, like how to clean wounds made in laboratories, for example.

You figured he would follow the programmed curriculum, but you should know better. Wilson came into the room, sat down at his own desk and signaled for everyone to go to their seats. Nat exchanged an amused look with you.

- Good morning, brats. - He said as he took something out of his pocket. The room erupted in giggles and comments as he held up a rubber penis and vagina. - Let's talk about sex today.

- Finally, eh Mr. Wilson! - shouted Tony Stark ironically, causing the class to laugh. You saw him give Pepper Potts a mischievous look, while the girl just smiled and fiddled with her hair. 

- Well, I need to teach you how to put on condoms first. - says the professor with a slight irony in his voice. - Because of course you are all innocent in this matter.

The class laughed, but you were distracted scribbling in your notebook. The professor leaned over to read the attendance list on his desk.

- I need two of you to demonstrate your knowledge to me. - He says. - Stark and Y/L/N come forward please.

Nat nudges you with her elbow and you frown. She nods toward the desk, and Professor Wilson is already looking at you. You mumble a "shit" before getting up and walking to the front of the room.

- Please demonstrate. - He says handing a condom to you and one to Tony, who gives you an angry look, and you roll your eyes. Tony moves toward the plastic vagina, but Wilson laughs, putting his hand in your way. - The other prosthesis, Mr. Stark.

You watch Tony's red cheeks with disbelief, and you also hear the giggles that circulate around the room. Tony quickly opens the condom with his teeth and puts on the rubber penis with his shaking hands. Then he turns to the class, putting his hands in his pockets.

- Who can tell me what Mr. Stark did wrong? - asks the professor, but no one raises their hand. You wonder if people just don't want to say that Tony Stark was wrong, or if they really didn't know. - Really, guys, nobody?

- He bit the package, sir. - You grumble, feeling all the stares on you. Wilson lets out a happy exclamation as he looks at you.

- Yes, exactly, Miss Y/L/N. - He says, looking around the room again. - When you bite the condom wrapper, you can damage the condom, and consequently, take away its effectiveness. The class takes note of the information passed on. - Now, Y/N, please. Demonstrate how to use the female condom.

You let out a sigh, and turn to the table, without preventing other students from seeing what you are doing. Quickly, you open the package and put the condom on the prosthetic.  Professor Wilson lets out a chuckle, congratulating you for handling it correctly, but as you turn around, you hear Tony Stark comment loudly:

- With so much practice in real life, it should be easy. - He says, and the class bursts into giggles. 

- Stark. - The professor says with a scolding tone, but you assume a wry posture.

- Don't be like that, Tony. I'm sure Steve will be happy to let you practice with him. - You fight back, and the laughter swirls around you. 

- Look, here you bitch... - Tony steps forward and the professor stands in front of him, with a serious expression. You think this is the first time you've seen him angry.

- You two come with me immediately.

And so you end up sitting in Nicky Fury's office again, with Tony Stark in the chair next to you. You both stand with your arms crossed and looking straight ahead as Professor Wilson explains the confusion in his class. Fury nods and says that he will handle everything, and the professor gives him an understanding smile before leaving the room.

- I have been waiting to talk to you two. - says Fury as he sits down at his desk. - Who would like to start?

- I have nothing to say. - says Tony in a harsh tone. You want to punch him again.

- That's too bad, Mr. Star. - says Fury. - You will stay here until someone tells me the nature of this conflict.

You let out an irritated snort. 

- I've told you before, Fury. - You say. - Stark is an arrogant piece of shit who has no respect for anyone. 

- You're fucking insane, girl! - Tony cuts you off, and you refuse to look at him. Fury lets out a sigh. 

- Please, I will not tolerate this kind of verbal aggression in my office. - He says. - If you don't answer me, I will simply recommend that you both be expelled.

You and Tony are silent, both with furious expressions. But then you remember the promise you made to the coach, and let out a sigh.

- I punched Tony in the face at his eighteenth birthday party. - You confess, surprising them both. 

A moment passes, and you think Fury is finally going to expel you, but then Tony speaks up next to you.

- I provoked her. - He confesses. You look surprised, and Fury just waits for Tony to clarify. He lets out an impatient sigh before speaking. - I followed her out and said some rude stuff.

Fury is thoughtful for a few minutes, and then he makes some notes in his notebook. You began to drum your fingers against your thigh, uncomfortable.

- Would you like to tell me exactly why you did that Tony? - Fury asked.

Tony let out an impatient grunt. And many moments passed before he spoke again.

- I don't know, okay? - He says, running his hands through his hair nervously. - I only saw her kissing a girl and then I was outside. I didn't want her at my party.

- I should have known you were a homophobic jerk. - You say, and Tony tells you to go fuck yourself. Fury warns you both again.

- Tony, I've heard rumors about your relationship with Mr. Rogers. - Fury begins and Stark straightens his posture, his face red. You think the conversation is getting interesting. - Don't you think, perhaps, your reaction to seeing Miss Y/L/N has something to do with it?

- I don't want to talk about it. - Tony grumbles. You stand there thoughtfully, understanding what Fury meant. He had suggested that the only reason Tony hated you so much, besides being a complete idiot, was because he rejected his own sexuality.

- We're going to talk about this privately, Mr. Star. - Announces Fury. - That will be my last warning to you two. No more fighting. If I hear that you two have renewed conflicts, I will recommend your immediate expulsion.

You and Tony nod, and Fury releases you with a detention card. You grumble, but leave the room, closing the door while Tony and Fury stand talking in private. 

You never imagined that you would see Pietro Maximoff in detention. But when you thought about it, it actually made sense. 

Sitting in the back of the room, you were even more surprised when he looked up at you, and gave you a shy smile. You blinked in surprise and looked away.

Professor Charles Xavier only taught history to the senior year, which left him with many free periods throughout the day, so he was also responsible for the detention class. It worked well, since it seemed that no one could hide anything from her, and detention ended up being quite efficient.

He came into the classroom with a book in his hand, and sat down, staying for many minutes without saying anything at all. And then he asked everyone to pair up, and you looked incredulously at Pietro Maximoff as he sat down in front of you.

- You're kidding me, right? - you said as soon as he arrived. Peter laughed, shrugging his shoulders.

Before Pietro could say anything, Professor Xavier announced that the class should make a short summary of the last subject he taught in class, which drew a disgruntled gasp from the few students present.

You started to take the materials out of the backpack and put them on the table. 

- I wanted to thank you. - Pietro said as the professor sat down. The class was buzzing with murmurs, all the students talking about their work, and Charles didn't seem to care, focused on his book. You looked at Pietro with your eyebrows raised, and he smiled wryly. - For helping me that day.

- It's a natural reaction, Maximoff. - You retort, looking away from him and start writing in your notebook. Pietro chuckles.

- Yeah, I know. - he says. - But still, thank you. The nurse told me that if you hadn't been so quick, I might have had an injury that would have prevented me from playing football.

You shrugged, not knowing what to say. You were silent for a few moments, each concentrated on his summary, and then Pietro stopped writing and you felt him looking at you.

- What is it now? - you asked without taking your eyes off the paper.

- Do you like music? - You raise your eyebrows incredulously as you look at him.

- Everybody likes music, what kind of question is that? 

Pietro laughs awkwardly.

- Sorry, you're right. - he says humorously. - I actually meant, do you know "The Panthers"? They are a rock band. They are playing in town on Saturday and…

- Are you asking me out? - You blink in confusion. Pietro shrugs.

- As a thank you. It's not a date. - He adds quickly when he sees your expression. - I'm going to the show with some friends.

- I'm also going to the show. - You retort, and Pietro assumes a surprised but happy expression.

- Great, we can see each other there then!

- I guess. - You grumble, turning your attention back to the summary. Pietro smiles, and a moment passes before he hands you a small piece of paper with a phone number.

- Text me when you get there. So it'll be easier for us to meet. - he suggested. 

You blinked in surprise, but remembering that Fury had told you to avoid conflict, you just put the paper in your pocket, and you and Pietro finished the exercise. He handed your summaries to the teacher, and sat down in front of you again. You left your hands in your pockets as he turned to you.

- What did you do to be here anyway? - you asked. Pietro stretched out his legs, leaning his back against the wall.

- I followed your lead. - He said humorously, and you frowned uncomprehendingly. He laughed, then clarified. - I punched Tony during practice.

You raised your eyebrows in surprise. 

- Wow, I didn't see that one coming. - You say. - May I ask why?

- He said some things about my sister. - Pietro says, locking his jaw as if remembering the conflict. - And then I punched him in the mouth. - He grimaces and imitates the move with his hand, making you laugh slightly.

- What did he say? - You can't help the question from escaping your lips. Pietro doesn't seem to mind though, shrugging his shoulders.

- Stupid comments about her, sex stuff. - he says. - We were training and he decided he was free to talk about her body to everyone on the team.

You swallowed your anger, not wanting to show it to Pietro, choosing only to nod.

- When he does it with other girls is it okay then? - you tease without holding back. Pietro frowns, denying it with his head.

- Of course not. - he says, and straightens up. - Look, I know you have an opinion about me. But I'm not a complete idiot. I don't treat girls that way.

- Oh, right. - You say it with irony. Pietro laughs, knowing exactly what you're talking about.

- I am serious. - he says. - I know what the school says about me. I don't like commitment, and I've been with a lot of girls. But I didn't cheat on any of them. - He clarifies, shrugging his shoulders. - And I don't treat them like objects.

- Congratulations for doing the minimum. - You say a bit harshly, and Pietro laughs. 

You fall silent again, and then Professor Xavier dismisses the class.

Pietro waves and smiles at you as you leave detention, and you think that maybe you have been teleported to a parallel reality.

Carol picks you up at your house. You both put on your leather jackets, and she thinks it' s pretty hot. 

The Panthers' concert is very crowded, and it is held in an open field on the edge of town. When you arrive, Carol holds your hand to lead you to your group of friends. You don't mind.

You hug everyone, and mention that you like Thor's new haircut, who had cut his long hair and was wearing an earring in his left ear. You were talking for several minutes in the food cart area, since the show was going to take a while to start. 

Then Pietro Maximoff saw you and waved excitedly, and his friends looked at you with a mixture of curiosity and incredulity. Natasha laughed softly in your ear before he approached. 

- So glad you could make it! - he said cheerfully. You decided not to mention his choice of clothes, since Pietro came with the team jacket.

- Hi Pietro. - You greet awkwardly, but he looks cheerful, and greets all of your friends with a smile. 

- Hey, you're owls, aren't you? - He says. - I've seen you at state when we played there last year!

Your friends smile and nod politely, and then Pietro looks around, and waves. A group of people join you all next. You feel your body tense up the moment Wanda Maximoff walks up to you, and then a deep irritation hits you as you notice a tall boy with his arms around her. You think you have seen him before in geography class. Also in the group are your classmates Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, and Peter Parker, the last being a freshman. You barely register the words of introduction that Pietro makes, your attention completely on Wanda, who looks surprised and slightly embarrassed to see you. 

Your friends greet Pietro's group, and you look away from Wanda to pay attention to his words.

- If you guys don't mind, can we all stay together? - Pietro suggests, and you want to scream that you can't bear to stand next to the boy holding Wanda without strangling him, but your friends agree, looking excited to interact with new people.

- Let's stay in the north stands, it's better to see. - Said Valkyrie signaling the direction, the group agreed and you started walking. Natasha hugged Clint and gave you a suggestive nod in the direction of Wanda, which made you roll your eyes in humor. And then Carol threw her arm over your shoulder, and you wanted to laugh at the deadly expression Wanda threw at you before looking forward. Carol didn't notice.

When you arrived at the chosen area, you sat down on the grass. The group was well-mixed, and everyone seemed to be talking to each other. You felt Wanda's gaze on your back, but you refused to look at her. Thor and Bucky handed out the snacks that they had bought with the group, and as you drank your soda, you felt Carol's hand on your thigh.

And then she kissed you, and you knew you had to talk to her. You asked her to walk with you, and you walked back to the entrance of the show, which was now completely empty. 

It was quick, and impressive easy. Carol smiled and said that everything was fine, and said again that you never made promises to each other. She gave you a kiss on the cheek and went back to the group. You told her you would buy some candy before you went back.

When you reached the snack bar area, someone pulled you behind a pillar.

- I want to talk to you. - Wanda said angrily. You rolled your eyes impatiently, putting distance between your bodies.

- I'm all ears. - You said with irony.

- I don't want you dating anyone else.

You let out an incredulous laugh. 

- You've got to be kidding me. - You spoke in anger. - Are you even listening to what you're saying now?

- Why are you going out with that girl? - Wanda asks in the same tone.

- You're a damn hypocrite, you know that? -You accuse her, moving closer. -Wanting to impose demands when you're having sex with that jerk.

Wanda rolls her eyes, and you think you might explode with rage. And then you grab her around the waist and push her against the pillar behind her. Wanda lets out a surprised exclamation and her gaze falls directly to your mouth.

- You think I don't know how you feel, don't you, Wanda? - You whisper, looking at her with a mixture of seriousness and desire. - Tell me, do you pretend it's me touching you when you're with him?

Wanda lets out a sigh, but lifts her head, not responding. You let out a wry laugh, and then you press your knee firmly against her core, and she shivers and lets out a low groan, closing her eyes tightly.

- Don't forget to moan my name tonight. - You say it against her ear, and then let go.

You walk back to the group, feeling hot and bothered. You exchange a look with Natasha, but say nothing. 

Wanda comes back a little later, and during the entire show, you feel her looking at you.

You refuse Carol's ride when the show ends. She waves with a smile, and leaves. And then you wave goodbye to everyone, and decide to leave by bus. You liked public transportation because it helped you to think while you looked out the window.

- Be careful, troublemaker. - asks Nat as she gives you a hug goodbye. She is sleeping at Bruce's house and will not accompany you on the way back. 

Pietro has had a few too many beers, and gives you a tight hug when he says goodbye, saying that the night was incredible. You laugh at his reaction. You don't say goodbye to Wanda.

And then you are walking to the bus stop, with your headphones on, and you almost stumble in shock when you feel someone touching your shoulder.

- Fuck, girl! - You complain as you turn around. - What is it now?- Go on a date with me. - Wanda says looking at you.

- What?

- Go on a date with me. - She repeats, smiling. 

You blush, and look down at the floor, suddenly feeling very warm. You wave your hands inside your jacket pockets.

- Now?

Wanda nods, and you bite back a smile on your lips.

- Okay. - You agree.

You turn and sit down at the bus stop. Wanda sits quietly next to you. You raise your hand and take out one of your headphones, offering it to Wanda. She smiles when she accepts, and you listen to some music together while you wait for the bus.

Since the vast majority of places in town were closed at this time, you took Wanda to a place that wouldn't be.

When you worked at the junkyard, you discovered many interesting places when you had to pick up equipment for your boss. One of these places was the city's port.

You knew that there was a secluded area of the municipal harbor with an incredible view of the sea, and so you guided Wanda through the bars and down the concrete path. You sat on the edge, your feet dangling a few feet from the ocean below.

- How did you find this place? - she asks, staring at the landscape. 

- Working at the junkyard made me explore the city. - You answer also looking straight ahead.

You are silent for a moment before you ask:

- What should we talk about, Wanda?

- Anything. - She says. - Or nothing at all.

You smile.

- I don't know what is going on between us. - You confess, and Wanda lets out a sigh.

She says nothing and you almost give up trying to talk about your relationship, and then she puts her hand on top of yours, looking at the ocean in front of you. 

- I'll tell you one thing, and you promise not to freak out, okay? - she asks, and you nod.

Wanda looks down at her own lap, and takes a deep breath, as if she is taking courage. 

- I think I'm in love with you. - She confesses, and you feel your heart race. - It's been a while, actually. I guess I just realized it now.

- How long?

- Do you remember when I saw you kissing Mary Watson in the eighth grade? - She asks and you nod. - I just... I didn't know why it bothered me. And then, you told me to keep it a secret and I got so jealous that every time I saw you I just wanted to slap you. And then we started to fight and I pushed all the feelings aside hoping they would go away. And then game night happened.

You remained silent as you absorbed Wanda's words. She spoke again before you could.

- Damn, I know this is a lot to absolve. - She says. - I understand if you just want sex. Or if you'd rather not talk to me anymore.

You interrupt her monologue with a kiss on the lips, which makes her gasp. But you pull away, smiling shyly at her.

- I'm in love with you too, Wanda. - You confess, and watch Wanda's cheeks turn red.

Wanda brings your mouths together again, and you kiss her intensely. You giggle with relief and happiness, and then Wanda hugs you around the neck, and you let your arms wrap around her tightly, sinking into her body heat as you close your eyes. 

You hold each other for long minutes, until you break the embrace to look at Wanda tenderly. You find her to be the most beautiful girl you have ever seen. Running your fingers over her face, you smile tenderly.

- What will happen now? - you ask, and try not to be intimidated by Wanda's hesitation.

- I don't know. - She says. - I want to be with you.

- Are you ready to admit this to everyone?

Wanda closes her eyes for a moment, and you think she is going to deny it. But then she nods in agreement, and you feel a new surge of excitement hit you. 

You let out a relieved laugh, and kiss Wanda's cheek, pulling her into a hug. She giggles against your grip. You then settle down, sitting side by side as you put an arm around her shoulders and she leans her head on your chest. Wanda intertwines your hands in her lap as you gaze out over the ocean in front of you.

- Do you really think Darcy and Elizabeth wouldn't be together? - she asks, and you laugh, not moving away. 

- Actually, I just disagreed with you, because you're hot when you're mad. - You joked, making her laugh. 

The night went by quickly after that. You and Wanda cuddled while talking about various random subjects. You watched the sunset together, and she kissed you hard before getting on the bus to her house.

[softlyjiminie]

to hold a dragon’s heart | k.t.h

⇢ pairing(s): dragon prince!kim taehyung x warrior princess!reader,

⇢ word count: 19.1K.

⇢ rating: 18+, mature.

⇢ genre: smut, angst, fluff,  forbidden romance, dragon shifter!au, royalty!au, enemies to lovers!au.

⇢ summary: two kingdoms, two hearts and the world between them. your whole life has been a challenge,  never an easy moment on your road to becoming queen but will one decision, one encounter with the man you were destined to hate, change the fate of your worlds, forever?

⇢ warning(s): please read! major character death, violence ( torture scenes + fight scenes ), war, cursing, alocholism, unrequited love, arranged marriages, failing marriages,  imprinting, painful sickness, unexpected pregnancies, slight prejudice against mythical creatures and women, heavy smut, unprotected sex ( please wear protection ) , virgin + dom!taehyung, virgin + sub!reader, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, oral sex ( male + female recieving ), nipple play, light degredation + dirty talk, breeding kink, cumplay, creaming, cunnilingus, slight exhibitionism, male masturbation,   taehyung has a two-headed penis (with spines), teaehyung has charcoal flavoured cum— i may have gotton carried away…

⇢ author’s note(s): hello everyone! this is my contribution to the @ficswithluv​ Love Library project! i was a part of the fantasy category with @jamaisjoons​ !! i worked really hard on this fic, and it’s probably my biggest work, i’m so proud of it so i really really hope you guys enjoy and leave some feedback <3

⇢special mention(s): i would like to thank my baby, miss gia of @fantasybangtan​ for helping me muse and giving me inspiration to complete this fic, as well as giving me feedback on this hefty boy n making it’s beautiful banner !! ( also i named the sea after you ) anddd my little babie @fantasyjoon​ for letting me name a kingdom after her teehee. I wuv u guys <3

two kingdoms, two hearts and the world between them. your whole life has been a challenge,  never an easy moment on your road to becoming queen but will one decision, one encounter with the man you were destined to hate, change the fate of your worlds, forever?

on opposing sides of the enchanted forest, lay two kingdoms. one, painted with magic and mystery, from the soils to the creatures that rules the skies. the other, a land blessed with human life, cultivation and opportunity.

the Avalerian dynasty, land of the mystical and the Phantis empire, land of the man. both peaceful kingdoms, until war struck.

when you were young and with a curious mind, when tales of battle between warrior and warlock were used to put your infant heart to rest, you would ask questions. many of them, but one always seemed to snub the minds of your elders. 

“why do we fight the war? why did it start?” you would beam curiously up at your mother, Queen aadaya. she was a beauty, hair dipped in the white snows of the Huntcan tip mountains, laced with the silver moon at its highest. her skin was smooth, illuminated by starlight and her heart, as pure as any gold. but queen aadaya was a warrior, trained in the arts of her people, like her mother and her grandmother before that. she had hoped to one day, train yourself and your siblings as well.

your mother shuffled over on the bed, squishing your eldest brother, hoseok and yourself, while pulling your younger sister—tamarae, into your lap. 

you remember so clearly, your mother tilting her moon crescent eyes and brushing back the hair on your face. “we fight for safety, of you and all children.”

lies.

you had yet to learn, as a naive little five year old, what war could do to innocents such as your mother. such as your people. war was not kind to anyone it met, it’s  raging scent of death and decay and blood reaching every corner of your once ethereal home until nothing was left. nothing but sadness, loss and a hole in your heart. 

you lost your mother by order of assassination on the night of your eighteenth birthday. they say, as a revenge attack, for the death of the dragon king but it was then that you learned that war took no prisoners, it had no mercy. war was not like the lullabies and stories your mother told. that day, the kingdom mourned the loss of their queen, and you mourned the loss of your mother, the safety she promised, a lie on the ghost of her lips. 

hoseok was drafted into the war not a year later, his own doing. he trained hard but not as good as yourself, you would joke. he was to keep hold on some land by elvin territory and whilst it wasn’t much, it was everything to your brother. hoseok could do something to avenge his mother. the day before his deployment, you sat with your siblings on your bed like you would as children, sneaking snacks from the chef’s daughter that hoseok promised to wed on his return. the three of you giggled and smiled and reminisced, ending the night with tears and tight grips on each other, praying that your family would be together again.

years later, you sit aged twenty one in front of the royal court. with hoseok gone and your father unfit to rule, you were next in line to inherit your mother’s throne. the chair itself, towering with a twisted golden design, was forged from the molten treasures of the dragons themselves. tamarae sits to your left, poised in a lesser dramatic chair and gown and to the right of you, your advisor, jungkook.

“why have you come?” your voice drifts through the throne room, eyes narrow on the pathetic excuse for a man before you. your father rises from his kneel, watching you with pleading eyes. in the years between now and your mother’s death, any relationship with your father had dwindled. he grew power hungry, gambling away any riches in hoping what he earned would replace the loss in his heart. he drunk whatever he could find, rendering himself ill. you often wondered why your mother ever allowed such a man to father her children. 

“i come, with but a suggestion, daughter.”

tamarae looks to you, worry struck on her young, delicate features. yet, your steely gaze remains in line with your father’s, an anger brewing in your stomach. it was not uncommon for your father to want to challenge you in front of the court, undermine your power as you made your road to queen. you had yet to prove yourself, according to the court but you hand an inkling feeling that was your father’s doing.

 “a suggestion, pray tell?” you jest, replacing your glare for a delicate smile. a giggle bubbles from your lips, making the lords and ladies flinch. “my people and armies are fed, the livestock and farms are thriving, we have hold on all land claimed by men and yet, dearest father, you continue to doubt me.” like your mother, you had many who doubted your role as a women in power, you learned to be kind but ruthless, in order to survive. 

the man himself, withered to the bone with sagging old eyes and a wheeze in his chest, rises from his knees with a dark glint in his eye. “my grace, whilst i mean you no disrespect, but by royal decree you are still unfit to rule,” he explains, gesturing to the court with wide arms. “you lack one thing.” 

narrowing your eyes, you lean forward in your throne as your jewellery glitters and rustles around your neck. the tension in the room is thick, a knife would barely be able to cut it, “like, what?” 

“a king.” 

you rip your body from your seat, sister following suit along with your royal guard. how dare he? the sick man, run along and say you needed a king to help guide you as queen. your mother had managed just fine on her own, taking the throne from a young age and resisting the temptation of men. until she met your father, a lowly bread maker and made him the man he is today. 

he had always envied her power, much as he did with yours. 

“a king? a king like you? pathetic and on his knees like the drunk bastard he is. i digress,” you seethe, much to the amusement of your court. but your father knows your wit, knows your weakness, after all he is the man who raised you. 

“it is by royal law, for a young queen to marry, my dearest YN...” the man begins, tilting his head up at you as he basks in the support of the lords and ladies around him. “and if you want to prove yourself worthy to the court, i suggest you start, with accepting a suitor.” 

“ridiculous!” 

an advisor from beside you, the predecessor to jungkook, steps forward wordlessly and blinks to you as if he’s asking permission to speak. “with all do respect, your highness, your father does have a point...it is required of you by law to...” 

their words are silenced with a quick glare, your nostrils are flaring from how angry you are and suddenly the blue silk gown that you wear is too tight and too fitting. tamarae places a hand on your shoulder to help calm your nerves, your little sister had always been in tune with your emotions, much like your mother had.  the young princess even resembled the queen, with tumbling wisps of snow white hair and kind eyes. 

“breathe,” she whispers to you, helping you fix your poise. “you’re doing just fine.” 

standing up talk, you ease your shoulders and smile smugly at your father. “since the men of this room, seem to doubt my ability to lead... i will prove the council before me, wrong,” your grin only widens when they ask you how, and you feel your sister’s worrisome stare burning into your cheeks. “by bringing you the heart of a dragon.” 

“don’t be ridiculous, your highness!” 

a lord from goodness knows what county calls, you only roll your eyes, making your way down the steps to pass your father smugly. the court has broken into a series of whispers, anxious, excited and concerned. the men around you have grown complacent, too comfortable with the idea of overthrowing you and making you weak. 

“silence!” you bellow, turning to address every being in the room. you hum in satisfaction as the quieten down, letting your mantle made of the finest cotton, trail behind you. “no man, no king has ever brought the heart of the dragon to this kingdom. if i am to prove myself worthy to you, then this is how it shall be. laugh if you must, doubt me if you will. but i was born and raised a warrior and in my mother’s footsteps, i shall follow.”

with that, the meeting is concluded and your father is left gobsmacked, once again. 

“don’t do anything stupid, YN,” tamarae mumbles to you that evening. you stand in her quarters, dressed in traditional fighting gear. the pants are a dark grey, patterned with swirls of a lily flower and embroider with your kingdom’s emblem of a crystal lily. the top matches, only this time you wear padding to ensure your protection. “and make sure you don’t get hurt.” 

you scoff, shuffling on a cloak and pulling the hood over your head to disguise your face. royalty wasn’t allowed out of the palace after dark, due to the risk of unexpected assassination. the council put the law into place after the tragic loss of their beloved queen. “as if I’d ever allow myself to experience any form of pain.” you tut, twirling around to locate your sword.

the weapon had been a gift from your mother, on the day of your eighteenth. she had deemed you a  worthy warrior, fit for battle after many years of training. it was a shame that she would not be able to see  you use it now. 

“you know what i mean, YN,” your younger sister sighs, pushing herself to stand and handing you the sheathed sword. a bright smile pulls at your lips and you lean down to press a kiss into her moonlit hair. “what if you don’t bring back the dragon heart? you’ll call yourself a fool and beat yourself up about it.”

“i won’t, i promise,” you hum, shaking your head down at tamarae. she was young and she worried for your recklessness, much like a mother would for her child. guilt was deepset within you, despising how your sister grew up barely remembering the woman who gave her life. “now if anyone asks...” 

“you wish not to be disturbed.” tamarae gives you a soft smile, manoeuvring her hands to grip yours. she gives them a gentle squeeze before backing away.

you give your sister a quick nod of the head before sliding out of her window and slipping into the night. 

the enchanted, Mailtaria forest was nothing like you had imagined. 

according to fairy tails, it was full of beasts and blood and gore but instead, you found twisted oak trees forming the shapes of hearts, soil that illuminated beneath your feet. the air was crisp, yet some how, warming and scented with the faintest of flowers. 

roses. 

you know in your heart, that if the war was nothing but a myth, yourself and your siblings could play here for hours on end as children. as you walk, your mind drifts to hoseok, wondering if he’s safe. the eldest of your siblings had been determined to fight the war ever since your mother’s passing, a headstrong boy who was fast on his feet but not with his mind. 

the crack of a snapping branch in the distance kicks your senses into overdrive, making you duck in anticipation of a sudden attack. with a hand hovering over the sheath of your sword, you inhale deeply through your nose to keep your heart rate steady. there is no time for nerves, YN, no time for hesitance. 

dragons were not creatures of remorse. 

you ease yourself out of the bushes, mindful of the ruffling leaves that glow with some kind of fluorescence, magic that you’d not once laid your eyes on in your entire life. had you not been in the deep wood of the enchanted forest, to find and kill the dragon prince, you would have admired them more. 

“why do you come, bearing a weapon?” 

perhaps you may have spent too long, admiring the glistening petals.

you gasp, whipping out your sword and holding its point to the throat of the boy before you. slowly, your eyes trail upwards, shock connecting in your irises as you realise that he’s...floating. the boy has the hair of the silver moon, eyes as deep blue as the rough and raging Gialara seas, his lips are the colour of a blood rose with small and pearlescent fangs resting comfortably against their plumpness. he also wears a loose silk shirt that hangs simply from one shoulder, exposing his pale and slightly scaled skin. his pants are also lose, black in colour like the night sky to match his shirt. you note, that while he floats upside down, head tilted back towards you and body arched, he is also barefoot. 

this must’ve been him, this must’ve been. “the dragon prince,” you hum cooly, steeling your eyes and reaffirming your stance. “i’m here to kill you.” your brows furrow in concentration, and the boy’s, in confusion. the dragon prince, pushes his bottom lip into a pout as he twists his body to face you fully. he sets himself down, against the plush grass and uses a single finger to flick your sword to the side. 

“you have found me, yes,” the boy nods, giving you a tilted and faint smirk after his curious stare fades away. “i am kim taehyung, son of Veles and prince of the dragons...” the dragon watches as your stance falters, mouth open in shock at his strength to manipulate your mother’s sword. your palms begin to sweat at the sound of his full title, the name of the dragon king reminding you of the loss of your mother. “and i know, you will not kill me. i sense your being is far too compassionate to kill a living thing.”

you huff, dropping your arms and sending the vile thing a seething scowl. “you don’t know a thing about me-“ 

“my apologies, princess YN, i’m afraid i don’t,” taehyung interrupts you, stepping forward to inspect you closely. it was almost as if he had never seen a human before, but then again he was nothing like what you expected, especially in a dragon prince. before you can blink, you have been cornered into a tree, completely vulnerable and in the open. if he wanted to, taehyung could kill you right then and there, for the first time that night, a sprinkle of fear and adrenaline pumps it’s way through your veins. you  glance up at the regal creature, shocked that he even knew such detail about yourself and bite your lip. “in that case, might you enlighten me as to, why you seek to take my life?”

taehyung is not what you expected at all, the question bouncing softly from his lips, as you begin to loosen up. his eyes shift to yellow under the light and you start to feel warm, as if you can trust him. “my father wants proof, that i would make a great and honourable Queen.” you explain bluntly, unsure of why the words feel foreign when mentioning it.

“interesting,” the prince comments, quirking  a brow and smirking down at you as he rises off of his feet. “humans and their need for death and honour, i will never understand.” 

and with that, taehyung disappears into the darkness of the forest. a chill runs up your spine, confused at your meeting but left wondering, what more was there to the dragon prince?

“...and then there’s the marriage proposal from prince seokjin, from the shatus kingdom overseas, would you like me to accept or deny?” jungkook drawls, feeling accomplished as he skips over the final sentence with a light frown. his heart clenches, but he doesn’t say anything further.

“yes, very good jungkook.” 

“YN...”

“mhm...”

jungkook sighs, closing his book before tucking it under his arm for safety. he wouldn’t have been so annoyed if you were at least, half listening to him. tapping his foot in annoyance, the young advisor furrowed his brow deeply. “well in that case, i’ll spread word to  the royal bakers that you will be requesting a cake made of pigs slop for the wedding party?” 

“sounds wonderful,” 

“...we’ll even give out small favours of their droppings too...”

“i’m sure the dukes and duchesses would love that, jeongguk...”

“i’m sure the whole kingdom would be delighted to know that you’re marrying kim seokjin.” 

you slam your palms down on the windows, whipping your head to look at jungkook in shock. an amused grin tugs at his lips, as he approaches you to ruffle your hair fondly. now you were paying attention. “i will do no such thing!” you protest, pink painted lips forming a pout as you make an effort you lay down your tundra of wild locks. “me? marriage? what a preposterous idea. i should have you executed for that.” 

“maybe now, you’ll learn to listen to me, your highness?” the raven haired boy titters, giving you an exaggerated bow. “you could never do such a thing to your oldest friend, YN.” yourself and jungkook had been acquainted ever since you could walk, a beautiful friendship blossoming over the many years. his father, had been your mother’s most trusted advisor during the war, he too passing away after the loss of your queen. it seemed that fate had its own twisted way of keeping yourself and jungkook together, for he wanted to follow in his father’s footsteps, much like you.

shaking your head, you push at his shoulders with a hidden grin and listen to the chime of his medallions as he sways. the silver lily on his chest, the symbol of the royal court, glistens much like the eyes of the man you met last night. taehyung’s beauty had entranced you so much, that the task at hand had been forgotten. of course, no one in the castle expected you to bring the head of a dragon back straight away...but something in you longed to see the awe, the shock and the respect on their faces when you did. they would learn to see you as their queen. 

but something about taehyung, made you weak in the knees. an inexplainable feeling, a shy tint to your cheeks and a beat in your heart. he was different, not at all what you expected. walking away from jungkook, you pivot on your heel, the flush to your cheeks becoming more obvious by the second. “there will be no more marriage proposals from now on, jungkook. make that clear to the neighbouring kingdoms.” you remark, nodding your head with the wisps of a smile against your lips. 

one of things, about having known you so long, is that jungkook could read you like an open book. the advisor could tell you were distracted, softer. it was almost as if his soon-to-be queen’s resistant and hard exterior had crumbled. this wasn’t your usual rejection of proposal, whereby you would growl and grumble so much so that the Huntcan tip mountains would quake in your presence. no, this was much like the time where the baker’s eldest son, yoongi, had snuck some treats up to your room when you were children. you had developed an infatuation for yoongi throughout your early teenage years, until he left the kingdom to open his own bakery, kissing you behind the rose bush in the royal garden on the night before he left. 

this was fascination, this was admiration. “you like someone,” jungkook teases lightly, a knowing smile tickling at the corners of his lips. “did you find a compatible suitor, is that it?” 

“the throne is my only object of affection,” you sigh, zealously. you twirled, a bright twinkle igniting stars in your eyes as the thought of taehyung’s silver lined ones and you can feel the excitement build in your veins. “a suitor? perhaps not,” the corner of your lips twitch up into a mischievous grin. “but the throne...it is a rather large one, is it not? awfully big for just one person.” 

jungkook raises an eyebrow, seemingly unimpressed while his jaw tightens and his tongue pokes into his cheek. “i see, i’ll be sure to have the staff engage in some...extensive cleaning of the throne room. we can’t have her highness leaving messes.” he states, lips falling into a flat line. tilting your head, the glint in your eye dissipates and thick somber feeling fills the room. 

“jeonggukie?” you question with a quiet voice, swallowing thickly at his unexpected change in mood. 

the advisor shakes his head, tussled locks falling over his eyes. jungkook turns, shrugging with the book still tucked under his arms, prepared to leave the room. “if i may be excused, princess, i have duties to attend to.” 

“ah yes, of course...duties.” the whisper falls from between your lips, as you watch him go with an aching chest.

the view at castle ashwyn was one not to be taken for granted. the skies were daubed with gradients of apricot, papaya whip, and cherry blossom pink with dusting of baby power white as cotton candy clouds. the breeze was fresh, tinted with mint and rose, carrying the scents of the many flowers that twirled along the turquoise marble pillars of the castle. 

the grass outside was freshly cut all the way up to the village, where creatures of all kind walked amongst each other. pixies, werewolves, elves and all, living together in harmony and if you squinted hard enough, over the towering trees, you could see where they lived. the humans. 

taehyung hated it. 

the sickly sweetness that constantly surrounded himself and his people, where all that was in the human world was death, despair, greed and power imbalances. he hated the falsities that engulfed his father’s death, how everyone pretended. 

that there was no life of suffering outside of his own.  

it was beautiful here, life touched every corner to cover the illusion of the war beyond these walls. the prince felt trapped. he wanted to break free of all expectations, experience the world and see the legends he had been told as a child. taehyung was not a fool to the whispers, the taunts and teases from the royal courts. they had always doubted him for his optimistic view on the simple things, on them, for humans had taken his father and so he was destined to resent them for the rest of his life. 

“taehyung, my love, what preys on your mind today?” 

taehyung’s mother, the dragon queen, was a soft spoken and wise woman. ever since the death of his father, there had been many attempts to overthrow her from many kinds...including the sirens. and yet, they never once succeed as only royalty of dragon’s blood can bestow the crown. dragons had ruled the land of the Avalerian dynasty since the dawn of time, forging the first crown from the molten minerals buried deep beneath the castle’s soils. they were the most powerful of all creatures, dominating the earth as their large majestic forms but the dragons were also prime game for hunting, their scales and horns could go for up to a hundred gold coins. so the dragons learned to adapt, becoming shifters with a half human form, this allowed them to retain their abilities as dragons whilst allowing them to walk free amongst the humans.

the queen was stunning, and perhaps that is where the young prince inherited his charming look. her scales were of a deep cherry, shimmering under the lights like the brightest of diamonds. her black hair had curled tendrils that spiralled down her back and her skin was tanned by the golden suns of apollo. with piercing, aquatic eyes, queen elantris tilts her head to look at her son, she had always known his shifts in mood and thanked her maternal instinct for being able to read her ominous child.

“it’s nothing, your highness,” the young prince muses simply, turning to his mother with soft eyes and an awkward smile. smiling fondly, elantris shook her head and approached her son, wrapping her arms around him in a warm hug. her tail swishes behind her, in her half shifted state, the castle being too small to accommodate for the large size of royally bred dragons. taehyung spares a glance to the older, and shorter woman, squinting carefully to see the diamond-slit irises in her yellowing eyes. it was almost laughable at how well dragons were able to shift between states, taking on a human form is completely desired. that is how they killed the human king. mastering the art of disguise. “perhaps, i am exhausted, i had a rather gruelling night.” 

“deep in thought again, my love dear?” elantris chuckles, brushing back  the fading ashy locks from her son’s forehead. taehyung sucks in a calmed breath, closing his eyes at his mothers warm touch and allows himself to shift too. he is much more relieved to have is tail free, blackened and swishing behind him. his ears become pointed and irises shift into diamond slits. elantris beams as her child transforms. “you’ve been keeping yourself hidden, i see.” 

“i needed to be out, some fresh air to clear the mind, mother...” the prince whines and stretches, shivering as his ash scales form over his skin and hair fades from grey to black. 

taehyung pouts under the gaze of his mother, what a sight to see. the most regal prince, pouting under the amused gaze of his parent. “away with your thoughts, as you always have been, my prince...” elantris lilts and lets go of the boy, moving towards her seat on the throne. the seat itself is glorious, spiralling toward the ceiling with peaks in its molten crystal. “what preys on your mind?” 

the young dragon, ruffling out his hair and adjusting his clothes. he wears a jewelled black jacket, a gradient of white pearls to obsidian diamonds. he adorns a fitting pair of black pants and boots with heels. taehyung shift his gaze to the diluting pink skies above and breathes heavily. “humans...why is that we despise them?” 

taehyung’s mother sucks in a breath,  tongue swiping over the ruby of her lips. the prince turns his body to look at the queen properly, tilting is head and poking his own tongue into his cheek as he eases a brow, awaiting his mother’s answer. “dragons are stubborn creatures, most unforgiving...it is not easy for us to forget,” elantris explains noncommittally, keeping her voice study and demeanour controlled.

“what is there to be forgotten? how did this all start?” 

“that is what we have yet to learn my son, this conflict has been raging on for centuries now, words and swords alike...twisted,” the dragon queen pauses, looking her son directly in the eye. “twisted into lies and fatalities...”

“and so...we fight?” taehyung prompts, his stomach bubbling with unease at his mother’s cryptic words.��

elantris nods, head held high. “and so, we fight.” 

“you are forgiven, you know.” 

you look up from your flower crown, fluorescent roses and tiger lillies woven together by their grass green stems and frown. taehyung is sitting in the trees, his hair is now the colour of a teal tinged with blue while his eyes simmered a warm amber in the cool night. 

meeting taehyung had been nothing but a coincidence, yet you found yourself becoming grateful for your accidental meetings. the clearing you shared with him had followed you to your dreams, being with him under the moonlight now brought you to ease.

“forgive me for what? do tell.” you probe tartly and turn your body in the grass to ask why. the dragon prince drops from the tree and you screw your eyes shut in fear of hearing the sickening crunch that often accompanies broken bones. but instead the prince floats above you, face but mere inches from yours as a taunting smirk touches lightly at his lips. a rosey hue tickles the apples of your cheeks as you look away, cursing the creature from under your breath. 

taehyung smiles and settles himself on the ground, sinking to his knees to aid you in making some flower crowns. “for being human,” the dragon shrugs nonchalantly and picks up a completed crown, leaning forward to place it stop your hair. his lips are a breaths width from your skin, and a warmth bubbles in your chest at the prospect of feeling them against yours, eyes closing. when you open them, you gasp at the proximity of they prince, blinking rapidly and blushing. he’s so close that it seems like he was watching you. “mother says dragons must learn to be forgiving. so here i am, forgiving you.” 

“what makes you think, that you are not required to seek my forgivenesses well?” you counter as a slight aggression weaves it’s way into your question, tilting your head upwards with stern eyes. taehyung bites his lip, slit tongue poking out to wet them at their swell. “should you not owe it to me? while my people die fighting against your best men, do you not believe that an apology from yourself, would be quite fitting?” 

you chose this moment to shuffle away from taehyung, turning to face the trees

in the distance as you pat the heat away from your cheeks. “your people have magic, powers. and mine? nothing but a bare chest, swords and a shield. yet, you do not hear me forcing the forgiveness of my people upon you,” you point out— almost too harshly, twirling a piece of grass between your fingers. “you sit, protected in your realm while only your most powerful touch the bloodied soils. you kill, as do i. i do not seek your forgiveness, but the life of my people instead. the life of young boys,” a pause in your speech allows your mind to flicker back to hoseok, your fingers how clenching the grass within your disgust. “barely fit to fight, that are drafted into the war. women and children who are torn apart. please, forgive me, for not wanting to accept your so called forgiveness.”

“how do you know this? that we only send out best?” taehyung queries nervously, his tone quiet as his feet come into your blurry field of view. he senses in his chest that you’re hurt, scared and in pain. this is what the war did, not to his people but to the humans. it hurt you. everyone. 

the laugh that passes your lips, is cold and cynical. your eyes possess a glassiness, glittering with fresh tears as you look to taehyung with anger painted against your face. “you have just told me.”  

guilt washes over the dragon as he crouches down before you, placing a finger under your chin to tilt your head up to face him. his thumb brushes the tears that spill from the corner of your eyes as his lips form the words that whisper, “i’m sorry.” 

he is sorry for your pain, he is sorry for the burden that you bare on your shoulders. he is sorry that he cannot make it stop, he is sorry. 

the following weeks bring you back to the clearing, where taehyung desperately tries to erase his night of ignorance. you would meet nightly, under the sky with glittering constellations and stars that told a thousand and one stories. you were away from the world where lives were torn apart and the cloud of death was ever growing. 

you were alone and happy.

taehyung would show you many of his tricks, how he could birth a flame just by the click of his fingers. how he could make smoke rise from his ears and nose and how the colour of his hair changed with his mood. the prince had become your friend, a regular occurrence to your life that you could not deal without. 

but tonight, you would be prevented from such luxuries. 

the tips of your fingers dabbed lightly at your lips, buffing the ruby red into your flesh. a maid worked by your side, primping and prepping locks of your hair so that they shone under the crystal lights. your makeup was light, yet fierce, shades of mint and green spreading across your eyelids to match the fitting ballroom gown you wore. it was lace that curled into silver lily flowers,  from the shoulders and down to your hips, twisting into a wide tule skirt that was painted with frosted blues and mint green fading into white. a necklace of pure diamonds rested just above your breast,  a matching crown woven into your tamed hair and a pair of earrings, your mother’s earrings to go with. as you sit still, letting the maids pretty you for the evening to come, you recall a time where you would have loved to be in a dress like this. times where your mother would only faintly dust your cheeks with blush whilst your father readied hoseok in the other room. tamarae was but a twinkle in your mother’s eye back then.

the girl in the mirror stares back at you, the trace of queen aadaya on her skin. closing your eyes, you take a deep breath to calm your aching heart and hum in agreement when the doors to your quarters open. tamarae beamed at you as her own maids helped her inside, she was a gown less bold than your own but equally pretty as fuchsia pinks spiralled soft lavenders. dresses like these were reserved for special occasions, to impress guests from outside castle walls, making a sick shiver crawl down your spine at the thought of elder dukes and lords and men vying for the attention of yourself and the young princess. 

of course,  the banquet for tonight was your father’s doing, in an attempt to find you a suitor right away. he claimed that you had failed to prove yourself in the last weeks, with no trace of the dragon’s heart in your possession. so with nothing but the grace of the queens before you, you accepted his invitation to host a banquet.

“you look beautiful, sister...you’ve grown so well,” you stand slowly, lifting your skirts to make your way over to the young princess. she bows her head in a small curtesy for you causing you to chuckle fondly. you allow your finger under her chin to tilt her head up, smiling softly at the girl, the spitting image of your mother. “now now, you are my sister, tamarae. formalities are not required for tonight, even if it is a special event,” you tease with a whisper in her ear, causing the younger to giggle slightly. “for you and i both know we shall be sneaking into the royal kitchen after the night is done!” 

tamarae tucks a white lock of hair behind her ear, giggling happily as her small hands clasp onto yours. “big sister, we both know hoseokie would have made me take watch if he were here,” she remarks in response  and pokes your nose, ignoring the glares of maids who had spent hours perfecting your look. 

as a young adult— becoming a queen, the ballroom was often a reminder of simpler days whereby warm summery breezes wafted through the large french windows, carrying soft scents of the fresh lemons and oranges that grew in the royal gardens. hoseok would have been chasing you down, playing the role of big bad dragon whilst you pulled a fumbling two year old tamarae behind you. your parents would always come running in to save the day, mother playing the knight that took hoseok down and your father the one who saved his two princesses. 

those were happier times, better times.

before you knew it, you were seated on the throne with the best view of the entire room. the ballroom had towering white pillars sprouting like flowers against a mahogany glossed wooden floor, the walls are splashed with an egg-shell blue with small cherry blossoms contrasting against the colour. accents of gold decorate every nook and cranny of the room and the ceiling paints a picture of fairytale creatures dancing amongst the man. men gallop across the hall with blushing ladies in their arm, those who aren’t dancing are stuffing their faces with the array of sweet treats and savoury delights that are positioned precisely against white sheet banquet tables. 

introductions pass without you paying any mind, distracted by thoughts of taehyung whisking you away to your clearing in the forest, playing with the many creatures there. you slip back to reality when a sudden pain spreads across your left rib, making you scowl at the culprit...tamarae. the younger smiles sheepishly and points to the man apparoaching your throne. 

his hair is a soft, candy pink, contrasting with the black blouse and dress pants he wore. when he bows to yourself and your sister, you catch a glimpse of his dark, misty brown eyes and find yourself curious to search them more. “he’s handsome,” tamarae teases you, moving to stand up as he steps forward. her gaze flickers up to your stoic face as she giggles. “don’t you think?” 

“he looks like he’s full of himself.” 

the man eyed you darkly while you held out your hand for him to take. “namjoon, kim namjoon...” his voice sends shivers down your spine, good or bad , you’re not sure. his skin is golden like honey and his tone drips with the same smoothness. “of the Kevimore kingdom.” 

namjoon gives you a dimples smile, taking your hand in his and bringing it to his lush lips for a gentle kiss. tamarae giggles by your side as you watch the man through your lashes, humming in content. it was always nice to see a man bend his will for you. “you may address me, as princess YN of the Phantis Empire,” you say, equally as smoothly whilst you tilt your head to the side. namjoon straightens his posture, bowing in respect. “i do hope you enjoy your stay here, tonight.” 

with your final word, you turn your gaze to the crowd and watch as they twirl about in tune with the orchestra but smile when you catch the eye of your beloved advisor. you had not danced at a ball like this, since you were a child and back then, hoseok had always been your partner but he wasn’t here now, he was fighting a war that wasn’t his. your sister delivers a sharp elbow to your side, causing you to grunt as you ready to scold her into next year. “ahem,” she whispers, jabbing your side again and nodding her head in gesture to namjoon. “he’s still here.” 

“i’m aware,” 

“that means he requires your attention.” 

“attention that i do not have for a man, tamarae.”

“YN, he’s right there!” 

“and he can hear you...” namjoon interjects with a small chuckle, poking his tongue into his cheek while his lips form an amused smirk. he taps his ear while a light flush rises beneath the skin of your cheeks, much to the prince’s delight. 

you duck your head, imagining that the prince before you gets off at the thought of making you blush. “is there anything i can help you with, prince namjoon?” 

he nods once, pink locks falling into his eyes as his dimples smile appears once more. “a dance, with you? my queen?” 

blinking, your lips part in shock. the only person to ever acknowledge you as the soon to be queen was jungkook, and that was often a joke between the two of you. but for a split second, it seemed— that namjoon’s dark, stormy eyes saw past the extravagance and diamonds— and saw you. the queen you were meant to be. 

“she would love to,” you sister answers for you, pushing at your shoulder to force you to stand. you rise to your feet,  unsteady on them and almost toppling forward. namjoon quickly catches you by the arm, offering you an earth shattering smile with dazzling eyes as he chooses that moment to lead you onto the ballroom floor. following namjoon, you turn around and give your younger sister a faux frown, sticking your tongue out at her. the maids around you gasp at your behaviour, while tamarae giggles and mocks your face.

upon reaching the dance floor, namjoon skilfully pulls you into his arms, pressing his chest to yours to guide your steps into the waltz. “you’re light on your feet, are you sure you’re not a dancer?” he chuckles quietly into your ear, making goosebumps arise across the planes of your skin. 

you turn with him, taking the lead from his grasp and smile cheekily. “i’m trained to fight, being light on my feet is part of the battle.” but your grin quickly falls upon seeing jungkook turn away with disappointment, what was going on with him? 

“ah, i see.” the prince falls silent at your words, offering you a quiet noise of agreement as the pace of the music rises and you start to speed up your dance. 

namjoon is a handsome man, his terracotta lips seem warm and inviting, his eyes although dark make you want to lose yourself in him. the prince is tall, at least a head or so taller than you and his arms that hold you are firm and large. namjoon is attractive but...

but he is not taehyung. 

the pink haired prince dips you, face hovering over yours as he takes a moment to tuck a fallen hair behind your ear. your cheeks heat up at his proximity but you swallow down your nerves and stutter out. “n-namjoon...i,” 

“you’re beautiful, my queen,” he says simply, running a thumb over your bottom lips before he pulls you back into his chest. “what i wouldn’t give to have you ruling by my side.”

“e-excuse me?”

“you’d make an excellent wife, YN.” 

gobsmacked, you try to rip yourself away from namjoon but his grip on your waist is too tight and suddenly he no longer looks charming and gentle, a sinister stare taking over his features. “let me go, namjoon. by order of the princess i demand that you let me go!” you scoff at him through gritted teeth still struggling in his grip. “if you believe that flattery will get you my hand in marriage then you are severely mistaken, my prince. i am a queen born to rule without a man, and i shall do so, just fine.” 

namjoon tilts his head in a sympathetic fashion, pressing you closer to him. “oh but princess, we are already on the path to being wed,” he hums, his lips ghosting over yours as you squirm away from his touch. “by order of your father, i am set to marry you three weeks from now, since you failed to bring the head of the dragon prince.” 

“no that’s not, it can’t be...he wouldn’t...he wouldn’t do that,” you mumble, feeling panic rise in your chest and lodge itself in your throat. your perfect world suddenly shatters, your view for the future torn to shreds. your father had sold your soul away to namjoon, who you now saw as a man who yearned for power. “he can’t.”  

“then your father is not the man you believed him to be.” namjoon concludes. “now put on a pretty face and smile for our loyal subjects, my queen.”

you gasp with tears beginning to flood your field of view, your eyes searching in the crowd for someone, anyone to tell you it’s not true. who’s face falls at your wounded expression, he knows, you think. jungkook knew and he didn’t think to tell you. your heart shatters into a million pieces and all you can think is out out out. you need to get out. 

but for now you turn to namjoon and give him a dazzling smile through your tears, as jungkook watches you with a guilty gaze.

running.

they say that running is able to clear your mind. but instead all of your thoughts and fears ran wildly beside you as you bolted through the forest. you could feel them, all of your worst nightmares crawling up your spine and scratching at your skin as you tumbled through the forest. 

by the time you reach the clearing, you’re clawing at your throat and desperately gasping for air through your choked sobs. you can’t marry namjoon, you won’t marry namjoon. your body trembles with the sobs that wrack your tiny frame, the dress that you wear is suddenly too tight and all you can do is wail for an escape. 

“YN! you have returned, i have to admit i missed you dearly-“ taehyung starts to ramble, just having come from a flight amongst the canopies. the dragon cuts himself off when he notices you collapsing onto your knees and tearing at the dress. “princess YN? YN, are you alright?” he drops to his knees beside you, tilting your head up to look him in the eyes. the prince hates the way your chest is heaving, how a wild panic has spread through your darling eyes. “breathe for me princess, it’s alright, i’ve got you.” 

your eyes stay with his as taehyung coaches you through, his ice like irises calming you down as they watch you with concern. the dragon prince brushes a hand through your hair to soothe you as you hiccup and sniff, attempting to ease your panic. “off, i want it off, all of it...” you grumble moving to tear at your gown. taehyung follows your movements, using a  shifted dragon claw to shred off the remains of your skirt and help you out of the tight fitting corset until all that remains is your sheer and tule petticoat. 

“better?” your companion asks, pulling you into his silk shirt. taehyung is warm, much morse so compared to the cool evening, you remember him explaining that dragons have a heart of coal. meaning that the blood that flows through them is heated and molten. 

you nod shakily and move to hold his hand as a wave of comfort washes over you. “much, thank you taehyung.” 

“are you going to tell me what happened?” the prince presses gently, not wanting you to hold it in. if there was anything taehyung had learned about you in the last few weeks, is that you never had an outlet. you were closed off from the world, locked away and never let anyone see the vulnerable sides of you and yet...you somehow found it in you to trust him. 

nodding slowly, you turn and bury your face into his firm chest, fisting at the silk of his new azure blouse. “my father...” you sigh, letting your breath even out as you stumble to find the words. “he betrayed my trust...he turned the court against me and made them promise me to another man...” you feel taehyung’s breath hitch as his chest moves. quickly, you move to look up at taehyung and all you can think to do is kiss him but you can’t, not when you’re now promised to another. “i don’t love him, i could never be in love with someone so horrible.”

the now raven haired, dragon prince says nothing, instead choosing to squeeze you closer into his broad frame. he doesn’t look at you, mind racing a million miles an hour. you were to be married. and it wouldn’t be to him. so it is with a waking start that taehyung realises he is deeply, sorely in love with you. his chest rumbled at the thought of another man’s hands on you, kissing you and touching you, touching what was his. without meaning to, you place your hands on taehyung’s chest and grab at his attention. his usual ocean eyes flash with yellow and his primal senses are suddenly full of you. all he can see is your face under the light of the moon and stars, all he can feel is your touch on him and all he can smell is the sweet scent of lilies, of you. 

“tae...taehyung?” you whisper, sniffling as you lean up and tilt his head to look at you. “i will be alright, i refuse to let this stop me from seeing you.” 

he ignores your words, pulling you to stand with him. “lets go for a fly.” the prince says with bright eyes, staring at you.

“a fly? taehyung have you lost your mind-?” 

“it’ll be fun, i promise you. it’ll clear your head.” 

you slowly tear yourself from taehyung’s grip, holding your hand to your chest with a nervousness swirling in your stomach. flying. taehyung had told you that he was able to fully transform into a dragon, with all the same abilities as well. he called it shifting, and that meant he was able to breathe fire, roar like a mighty beast and fly. “i’m scared...” you admit, sheepishly. “what if...what if i fall?” 

“do you trust me?” taehyung asks sternly, stepping towards you and holding his hand out for you to take. 

“i...what?” 

“i said, do you trust me?” 

you hesitate before closing your eyes tightly and nodding, taking taehyung’s hand. “i trust you.” 

your eyes remain screwed shut as the crunch of bones fills the unoccupied silence of the woods. you flinch at the sound and the slip of taehyung’s hand from yours, whilst his heaves and groans become growls and roars. away from the warmth of taehyung’s body, you realise how cold the forest is in just your petticoat but you’re shivers are quickly ceased when a puff of hot hair surrounds you and a large head nudges your body. opening your eyes slowly, you gasp at the large beast before you, the taehyung that you know has been replaced with an oblivion black dragon, hints of silver and blue illuminating his scales under the shimmering night sky. the dragon presses it’s head to your hand, making you reach out hesitantly as you stare deep into its amber irises. 

‘do you trust me?’ 

you remember taehyung’s words as the majestic beast bows to you, you chuckle and watch as the dragon moves back, stretching out to spread its wings. you imagine that the wings themselves must be as wide as the west wing of your castle back home. when the dragon returns to his original position, you’re met with a puff of warm air, strong enough to blow locks of your hair away from your face. “impatient creature, aren’t you?” you giggle to yourself and clamber up onto taehyung’s head, making him shake it in response. 

with a deep breath, you hold on tightly to the spines feathering taehyung’s neck and close your eyes once more, listening to the sounds of his wings flap as he lifts you both off of the ground. the next time you open your eyes, you’re up in the air, soaring above the clouds. the pair of you are so high that the colour of the sky fades from a soft pink to the deep blue below, the beginnings of the sun shining in the distance. 

then taehyung makes a nose dive. 

the air rushes through your hair as you squeal, heading face first for the land beneath you. taehyung spirals his body as you throw your hands into the air, squealing loudly with happiness, you can feel every fear and doubt that clogged your mind and body rush away with the wind in your face. the dragon prince evens out his body, spreading his wings as you drift across the night sky, watching the world go by with you above it. you lean forward and rest the palms of your hands on taehyung’s, stroking it lightly as you fly past the stars.

when the clearing reappears in your field of view, taehyung tilts his body and begins the descent through the clouds. he flies low, letting you reach your hand out to touch the glistening water below. “w-woah, tae...taehyung!” you cry in amusement, feeling him shift beneath you, his bones realign as he grows tired and reverts back to his human form. his wings somehow manage to remain as the prince’s familiar face returns and he beams up at you. his wings encircle you as you make a crash landing into the clearing. the pair of you roll and tumble out onto the illuminated grass below you, taehyung’s wings protecting you and softening your fall. you manage to uncurl in his grip, landing beneath him as his palms flatten out by your head to stop himself from crushing you. 

“hi...” you pant, looking up at the dragon prince with glittering eyes. your hand reaches up to touch at taehyung’s soft face, his eyes still golden glowing irises and his curled hair now a faded black. he’s beautiful, he always has been but in this moment, you feel like you have finally see him. you can finally see that you love him.

taehyung looks down at you through hooded eyes, moving to run a thumb over your pinkish bottom lip, his breath uneven from the flight. “hello, my queen.” he says simply, face nearing yours. you feel your lashes against your cheeks as your eyes flutter shut, taehyung nosing your cheeks until his soft lips reach your own. hands in your hair, the prince tilts his head and kisses you. his lips mould perfectly against yours and you can feel your heartbeat wildly in your chest as your arms wrap around his neck and fingers curl in his wavy locks. taehyung kisses you like you’re his, and only his and all you want is to feel is him.

taehyung’s hands use a tentative touch as they slide down to your sides, slipping under your petticoat to smooth over your bare skin. you gasp as his lips venture out into the junction at your neck, curling your fingers in his hair as his hands push further and further up your clothes. he roams your skin like foreign terrain— fingers dipping at peaks and the curve of your body.  “taehyung...” you whimper breathlessly, pushing your head back into the lush grass below. 

the dragon freezes at the sound passing from your lips, moving to pull away. “are you hurt? did i hurt you?” taehyung asks worriedly, honey  eyes boring into your soul. you sit up, confused as you shake your head no, wondering if your eagerness to kiss him has driven him away. “i’ve never...i haven’t done this before...” the ravenette adds, gesturing between you both. never done...what? 

oh...

“been with a women before?” you ask gently, sitting up and leaning your chin on taehyung’s shoulder. you tilt your gaze towards him, smiling softly and move to cup his cheek. “i have never...been with a man either...you would be my first.” you whisper shyly, you had little time for courting as a princess, your royal duties taking up much of your time. but here you were, curled up with taehyung on possibly the most beautiful place on earth, feeling more ready than you had ever been.

“let me have you, if you will?” the prince asks lowly, warm breath fanning over your lips.

“you have me, all of me...” 

that was all it took for taehyung to crash his lips against yours once more, this time his tongue tracing over the seam of your own as he pleads for entrance to your mouth. you happily oblige, welcoming his warm tongue with your own in a battle for dominance, dancing together while his large hands pulled at your under clothes. you arched your back, letting him tug the tule garment off of you and spreading your thighs as he nudged them apart. 

“you’re so beautiful,” taehyung murmurs, pulling back from the kiss to admire you. his amber irises darkened to a dark gold as he drunk in your naked body, leaning down to ghost his lips over your neck. “i want to mark you...” he added, biting down on your supple flesh and sucking hard enough to leave a bruise. “fuck you, breed you. would you like that princess?” he growls. 

you arch your back as his hands come to cup your breast, squeezing them between slender fingers whilst he works a trail of purples down to your chest. “god, please...taehyung!” 

chuckling deeply, using his  dragon abilities, the prince blows a gust of hot air over your left nipple once his mouth reaches its destination. his snake like tongue pokes out to lick a stripe over the perky bud before he takes your breast into his mouth harshly, biting down and letting his primal instincts take over. even if he was a virgin, being a dragon, taehyung was genetically programmed to please during breeding seasons. he knew what he was doing, especially when you moaned aloud. 

a hand slips down your sides and into your panties, circling over your clit to spread your wetness as it glistened under the moonlight. “you’re soaking, my princess,” taehyung hums, still squeezing your breast as he sucked your nectar off of his fingers. “may i taste you?” 

“yes, please...” you gasp.

taehyung raises an unimpressed brow, pinching your nipple causing you to whine. “please what?”

eyes rolling, you moan out the only title you can think of, hoping it will urge the dragon on. “please...my king.”  

the prince with obsidian hair curses under his breath, making quick work of tearing off your panties and shuffling onto his belly on the grass so that he nears your entrance. taehyung spreads your lower lips widely, chuckling at the juices that flow from your flower. “so pretty, petal.” he says, watching you writhe under the night air before locking eyes with you through his curled locks. the air that hits your pulsing heat, is cool but taehyung’s breath is hothothot. his lush lips suckle on your clit before his burning tongue swipes over the length of your pussy, heated from his dragon’s core. taehyung sweeps at any of your sweet nectar that gushes from your hole, humming in content before pushing his tongue past your entrance making you cry from pleasure and curl your fingers in his hair. 

“look at you, absolutely dripping just for your king,” taehyung growls against your burning cunt, the vibrations sending your eyes rolling back in your head. desire burns brightly in the pits of your stomach, as you start to rut your hips into his face, the prince having neglected your wetness in favour of whispering foul words into your thighs. taehyung flicks at your swollen clit, making your legs wobble and threaten to close around his head. not that you would mind the view. “such beautiful sight, baby.” 

he dove his tongue into your tight hole, as arousal fogged your senses and his instincts to your body heightened. the world between your sweet thighs was slick, tasting of the most luxurious of treats to taehyung and he could tell he was becoming addicted to you. a finger slipped past your entrance, along with his tongue, thrusting inside of you and catching on the walls of your pussy. you wriggled against the grass, spread out in the open nature whilst taehyung claimed you with his tongue. “m close, m close!” you squealed when taehyung added another finger, fearing that your high was coming to soon. the prince was giving you pleasure that you had never felt before, that couldn’t be achieved with your own hand or imagination. you weren’t sure that you wanted it to end.

nimble fingers gripped at taehyung’s mop of sooty hair as he lapped faster and faster at your sensitive bud, the knot in your stomach becoming tighter and tighter until suddenly...it snapped. “cum for me, princess, reward your king.” 

white flashes behind your eyes as your release crashes over you, signs of your arousal painting taehyung’s chin and face. he licks over his bottom lip, chest rumbling at the taste of you before he moves between your thighs to and up to your face. he kisses you sweetly, once...twice... allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue before deepening the kiss. the pair of you become a pile of limbs, entangled in the grass as teeth and tongue clash together. your hands wind down the path way of the prince’s body, stopping above his belt loop hesitantly. 

taehyung forces himself to pull away from your onslaught of kisses, pressing his forehead to yours— eyes closing with a pant falling from his lips. “you don’t have to...” he mumbles, lips ghosting over yours while he noses your cheek.

 taehyung’s hair brushes softly over your forehand, his eyes tightly shut away from the world as if, when he sees you again, he won’t be able to control himself. you stare up at him, taking in his every mole and freckle that dots his face. you trust him. “i want to, please— let me, my liege.” you insisted, a neediness sparking in your eyes.

“fuck...the things you do to me, princess,” hisses hotly, his cock twitching in his briefs as you rolled him over. the dragon prince quickly stood, helping position you comfortably on your knees before letting his hands fly to the buckle of his breeches. watching him closely, you felt your mouth water in anticipation— you’d never in your life seen a man in full glory before, let alone a mythical creature such as taehyung. you suspected him to be girthy, but your expectations were exceed as he proceeded to roll down his breeches and undergarments in one. 

taehyung’s cock was not only thick and girthy, but lengthy as well, so big that for a brief second, you were unsure that your own two hands would fit around it, let alone your mouth. your jaw dropped in awe as your eyes observe him. “well...uh, there’s something about us dragon’s that.... that perhaps i failed to mention-“ taehyung but his lip with nervousness, his confident and dominant aura suddenly wavering. 

“you have two heads-“ you blurt out, gaze trained on the second head of his forked member. “there’s two!” 

the prince blushes, running a hand through his curled hair and swallowing thickly. “for mating purposes, it increases the success of a female carrying...” taehyung pauses is breathe explanation, frowning deeply as you touch curiously at his cock. “—carrying offspring, princess.” 

the pet name comes out as some what of a warning, making you smile sheepishly at the man above you. “it’s got spines, taehyung...you cant expect me not to touch you!” you defend yourself,  watching him closely. “it’s hot too.” 

“for pleasure purposes, dragons are also naturally hot.” 

“do you think it will fit? i’ve not been with a man before i-“

seemingly sensing the nerves that stir in your stomach, taehyung leans down to grip your chin and tilts your head upwards to catch your eye. “i’ve got you, petal,” he whispers and presses a light chaste kiss to your lips. “do you trust me?” 

“yes, more than anything.” you breathe, settling back onto your knees as taehyung guides your mouth towards his pulsing cock. your eyes trail up his body as he tugs off his shirt from above you, his skin is glazed with a layer of sweat and desire pours through your system like the molten lava that intertwines with his dragon blood. you imagine that he tastes sweet, like the finest wines of the Ubeozia dynasties. 

leaning forward you shakily take taehyung’s tips past your lips, sucking on it hesitantly while he starts to groan. the dragon sucks in a breath from the night air as you take him further into your mouth, looking up at him with sparkling doe eyes. “you’re doing so well, my darling  princess, so good for me.” he sighs.

his cock his hot against your tongue, forming tingling sensation at your lips while you work on bobbing your head. curses fall out from underneath taehyung’s breathy moans whilst his eyes flash golden like Apollo’s sun. his large hands thread between your loosened locks as they tickle at your exposed shoulders, encouraging you to give him more. 

your hands sit small on the base of his girth, fisting at what you cannot fit making a wetness pool between the apex of your thighs as you think about being stuffed full of him. taehyung lets out a small moan, closing his eyes and throwing his head back to face the stars as he shallowly thrusts his length into your welcoming mouth. your tongue works circles around his cock making taehyung’s fingers curl in your hair, massaging your scalp as he gently pushes your hot mouth further down on his pulsing, red hot cock. 

he hisses and grunts when you’re tongue glides over his slit, abdomen clenching as he feels himself fall into his high. you gasp as the dragon paints your tongue with a smokey release, his cum is a foreign feel against your tongue but brings you satisfaction as he quivers through the after shocks of his orgasm. softly, you let go of his member, sliding your tongue over your bottom lip to capture the rest of his cum— keeping your eyes trained on him. 

“how does it taste?” taehyung asks darkly, sinking into his knees to cup your face.

you hum for a moment, parting your lips gently as his thumb brushes over them. “salty, no...ashy.” you conclude, breathing lightly. taehyung quirks a brow, leaning forward to press a searing kiss to your lips, his tongue swipes over your bottom one as he gradually pushes you back into the lush grass, positioning himself between your legs.

“that’s because our release is fuelled by the fires that burn in our hearts,” the prince explains, pulling away from your lips to whisper in your ear. now that you’ve tasted me, it’s time i mark your beautiful little cunt.” 

you gasp as the tips of his thick cock brush as your entrance, instinctively locking your thighs around his hips. your chest rises and falls with the anticipation of having taehyung, the man you love, claim you. you’re in love, you love taehyung with all your heart and now he was to make you his. sighs of adoration fill the air between you as taehyung slowly pushes into your virgin hole, of course, having more than one tip would make it hurt, but only just— making your nails dig into the skin at taehyung’s shoulder. 

he stops is movements, the prince knows that it will be difficult for your tiny human body to handle his stamina and size, after all, you had already cum once and were nearing exhaustion. “i’m sorry, my petal...my queen, i know it hurts,” he cooes, nosing at your neck to ease the pain. one hand curls in taehyung’s thick locks as he fully enters you with one tip of his cock, the second slowly slipping past the lips of your cunt. the dragon prince drops a hand to your clit, slowly rubbing in circles until the pleasure overrides the sting where you bleed. “you’re doing so well for me, taking all of my cock like the good queen you are.” 

taehyung waits for you to adjust as he continues to lazily flick at your bud, while you slowly start to open up for him like the roses at his mother’s place. “please...move taehyungie...move!” you mewl, throwing your head back into the soft grass as pleasure begins to overwhelm your senses.

the prince smiles down at you, taking in the the twisted look of delight against your delicate features and the curve of your breast as you arch your back. taehyung bottoms out inside of you, gently thrusting his length within your tight, dripping walls and closes his eyes at the sound of your sweet moans. you feel like you were made just for him, for him only and when he opens his eyes, he can’t help but lean down and claim your mouth, slipping his tongue past the barriers of your lips when you part them. 

“look at you, princess, so tight for me— your king,” he praises tenderly against your hips, dropping his face to your neck as you tighten around him involuntarily. “you’re mine, made for me and my cock. you got that princess?” 

“yours, yours my king.” you pant, fingertips dancing across the expanse of your lover’s freckled back.

taehyung deepens his thrusts, the spines on his cock catching against your slick walls as he reaches deeper inside of you. he sucks a little of bruises into your neck, purples, pinks and burgundies painting a picture of his love for you while he works their. your hips lift to match his thrusts, sucking him in as you both move together under the moonlight. the sounds of love filled moans and groans fills the cool air of the forest, long forgotten as taehyung pounds into you, letting you feel every inch of his cock. his grunts send shivers down your spine, making you arch your back into him. taehyung pushes your hips down, pushing his member into your sweet spot causing more of your juicies to gush down your wobbling thighs. 

you bite your lip in an attempt to silence your cries, an unexplainable wave of pleasure coursing through your veins as taehyung yanks your hips down to his. “s’good…please don’ stop,” you slur pathetically into the night, a sheen of sweat dousing your skin, the sound of your desperation making the head’s taehyung’s length twitch inside of you. he wasn’t sure how long he would last, with the way your virgin cunt clamped down on him like a vice. the tightness was almost unbearable, each thrust bringing him closer and closer to the edge. “need you, need you m-my king!” 

taehyung’s mop of hair drops to your collar bones as he bites on them to silence his growls of possession. “fuck me, princess, fuck,” he slurs, his cock swelling as if he’s about to burst. the first head of his member stimulating that special spot, while the other fills your needy hole. “wonder what your courts would say if they saw you like this, princess,” taehyung pants into your neck, one hand sliding between your bodies to stimulate your clit while the other grips your breast, as he leans against you, pressing his hips into yours. “saw their queen spread out for the dragon king so desperate and needy for his dragon cock...fuck baby, what would they say?” 

“t-they’d be ... ashamed!” you squeal, arching your back and lifting your hips to meet taehyung’s thrusts. 

he smirks, fucking into you harder, until you’re full to the brim and you can feel him deep in your womb. “but i wouldn’t be, m’ so proud of my princess for taking me like this...” taehyung pants, looking deep into your eyes, sweaty hair falling over his own amber irises. “cum with me, my love.” 

you grab and pull at taehyung, touching at skin hair and lips as your release starts to creep up on you. the pace of taehyung’s hips never slow but start to become sloppy as your senses become overwhelmed with him. the tips of his cock brush at your spot once more, making you scream with pleasure as the damn finally bursts and you cream on his member, painting him with your release as the first spirts of his cum fill your hole. “taehyung, tae..please,” you cry, soft tears springing in your eyes as he locks his gaze on yours, hips slowing to a grind as he pumps his thick, hot seed inside of you. there’s so much, never ending as his release gathers within your cunt, searingly hot as lewd sounds of your wetness’ mixing fills the air. “i love you...”

your words are barely above a whisper, tears of warmth and happiness spilling from your eyes as taehyung cups your cheeks and swoops down to kiss you lovingly. “i love you so much, more than anything.” he responds, never ending his onslaught of kisses. 

taehyung doesn’t soften inside you, making another wave of neediness wash over your body. he loved you, he loved you just as you did with him. the kisses become sweeter and sweeter, like the finest honey against your tongue and you smile against taehyung’s lips as he lifts you into his arms. “you love me.” it’s more of a statement than a question, but taehyung answers regardless, brushing strands of hair away from your face.

“i will always love you, beyond my dying breath.” 

the dragon scoops you up, carrying you to a nearby tree and leaning back against it, refusing to put you down despite your giggles and protests. you notice, from over his shoulder that moon lillies grow in place of the spot you made love in. “what’s that?” you ask quietly, as taehyung sits, turning you around gently in his lap and barely lifting you from his cock. 

he watches darkly as only small traces of his charcoal black cum seep from your cunt before he follows your gaze to the flowers. “those, moon lillies appear when a dragon has found his or her mate, in place of where they have mates for the first time.” he mumbles shyly, hiding his face in your neck and kissing the back of your shoulder. 

“let’s... let’s make more,” you whisper and admire the flowers that act as a symbol of your love. although your thighs still shake from your last two releases, you pull your hips forward and drag them back against taehyung’s lap, twitching around his length from the overstimulation. your turn your head to face the dragon prince from over your shoulder, watching as his chest heaves with pleasure. “make love to me, dragon king. make love to your queen.” 

taehyung’s hips twitch at your words, the ghost of his fingertips settling on your hips  before gripping them harshly, helping to move you back and forth against his cock. “as you wish my queen,” he mumbles, starting to move his own hips in time with yours. “you’re going to be the death of me, love.” 

taehyung bites down harshly on your shoulder as you begin to mewl, lifting yourself off of your cock and slamming your hips back down. the spines on taehyung’s cock stimulate your spasming, cum soaked walls, catching on each ridge and causing you to shiver. the forest is once more filled with the sound of skin slapping on skin, and a mixture of lost words and moans and ‘i love you’s. you are lost with taehyung, in a world of your own as he claims your cunt over and over again with each thrust. 

you circle your hips, clenching around the thick cock that stretches you open and gasp when one of taehyung’s heads slip out from your tight core. biting your lip, you take a finger and coat it in the remainder of your last orgasms and smear it against taehyung’s tip, thumbing it hardly. the prince groans, hips stuttering as he lets out a loud moan, thrusting into you at a faster pace and circling himself inside of you. “princess, please...fuck me.” 

“forever, my sweet.” you whisper, slapping the head against your cock before pushing it back into your entrance. you rock yourself back and forth, tears of pleasure stinging the corners of your eyes as your sensitive pussy pulses with want. you know, you will not last as long as the previous rounds, indicated by your throbbing clit and collapse forward against taehyung’s legs. the dragon takes this as an opportunity to slap his palm against your bare ass, watching the flesh jiggle at the contact. 

you squeal at the spank, sinking your fingers into the grass as taehyung repeats his ministrations on each of your cheeks. his cock swells with every desperate moan that passes from your lips, stretching your tight cunt open to accommodate for his cum. he wants to breed you, fuck you full of all of his dragon seed and watch your stomach swell at the heavy load. he wants you to have his children. with new found motivation and his orgasm closing in on him, taehyung grabs your hips and forces them down against his cock, slamming into you every time you come down against him. your abused hole drips with newfound wetness and remainders of taehyung’s hot seed as he pushes it further inside of you. 

the pace is wild, and heat flares up between you both as your bodies move together completely uncontrolled. “m gonna cum again...” you gasp as you feel taehyung pound repeatedly into your g-spot. “please, please fill me up.” 

“gonna cum with you princess, gonna breed you with my dragon pups,” taehyung practically whimpers, mumbling an i love you into the air. “gonna fill you up and fuck my cum deep inside you.” he rambles now as his thrusts become erratic. having his length nuzzled inside of you is what pushes taehyung over the edge, beating the feeling of endless hours of pleasuring himself during breeding seasons. he had never held or touched a woman in the way that he did with you. you were his first, and that was what made his heads fill you once more with a heavy load of his seed, shooting further into your cunt as you cream against him once more, pushing your hips down while his cum smears against your clit. “

“taehyungie!” 

you collapse against the grass, panting shakily as taehyung pulls you into his arms again, turning to lay on his side as he pulls you into his chest. he doesn’t remove himself from your body, keeping himself inside you as more of the glowing blue flowers begin to bloom around you. taehyung’s hand settles on your belly as his arms wrap around your waist, rubbing it in circles while he kisses your hair. everything is perfect, just as it is meant to be. you’re in love with the man you had dared yourself to kill, but could now only find it in you to lay with him under the stars. 

“i love you taehyung,” you say for the millionth time that night, drawing patterns into the hand that rests on your stomach. “i won’t ever love anyone else. i am yours and you are mine.” 

“we are one, YN.” taehyung adds, sweetly, holding you closer as you feel yourself start to drift into a sweet slumber. “and i will love you forever.” 

forever. 

you smile at the word, placing his hand over his as you finally fall into sleep. you stay with taehyung, in forest for a night or two, loving each other under the moon.

“and you will see to it that the dragon is captured and killed, immediately?” 

jungkook hesitates, a pause in the air at the prince’s request. when namjoon and the king had asked the young advisor to follow his queen out into the woods, he had never expected to see what he did. the nights where you would disappear for hours on end, coming home with scorch marks and ruffled hair all seemed to make sense now. you were with the dragon prince, the one who’s heart you had promised to capture. except, only you could not do it, you had been soft in the heart. a trait that lay with your deceased mother. 

jungkook had seen you take round after round of the dragon��s cock, wishing that he could be in place of the beastly creature. he hated how that thing claimed you like he had been trying to for years, he despised how he fisted himself to orgasm behind the trees as he watched you cum for the dragon, moan for the dragon, love for the dragon. jungkook hated himself for betraying you due to his own jealousy, he wanted to see the dragon pay for what it had done to his queen, his love. and although, the advisor was unsure of what namjoon planned to do with the information, jungkook knew the least he could do was set you back on the right path. 

he had already owed you this debt, in where he failed to warn you about namjoon. perhaps, he would make it up to you by freeing you from the dragon’s grip. 

“jungkook...”

“yes my liege, we will send our best troops to their location and have him captured within the next week or so...” the boy explains, rubbing a thumb over his knuckles nervously. why does guilt rein free in his mind? he was doing what was best for you. 

prince namjoon nods proudly, nodding his head and standing from his seat to leave the dining room. the prince had moved into the palace due to your absence over the last three days, presumably to take over rule as your father was too sick to do so. namjoon was brought in to have you wed before your father’s passing but the courts knew you were more than capable of doing so on your own. 

they just hated to see a women in power.

“you are dismissed, jungkook.” 

the young advisor nods his head gratefully, running a hand through his wavy locks and massaging his scalp to calm his guilt ridden mind. “what the fuck, jeon?” he mumbles to himself, starting walk back his quarters. he needed to be a lone, he needed time to convince himself that what he had done was right. jungkook could pretend that everything would be fine and maybe it would be. 

he paces down the twisting and winding halls of the castle, chest squeezing as he begins to feel trapped within the walls and lies. jungkook doesn’t even hear the call of his name. 

“jeongguk!” tamarae gasps, catching up to the young advisor. the boy freezes, the princess much resembled the queen before YN, her features her sloping and graceful and you could see shift in her eye colour of the light hit them just right. everyone had been in awe of tamarae since she was born, but she was no YN. he looks down at the girl, just a year younger than jungkook himself, and parts his lips to speak. they were aquatinted well, but never spoke more than a passing hello when YN was around. 

but he never gets a chance to speak. 

the princess’ hand falls sharply against his cheek, the connection is enough to send his head to the side. it is now, for the first time, that jungkook really looks at the young princess. her snow white hair is dishevelled and slightly out of place, dark eye bags beneath her usually glowing eyes and her skin has paled significantly. “how dare you?” tamarae seethes, stepping closer to jungkook and pointing a finger in his face. he flops guiltily, his actions coming to haunt him. “how dare you, give my sister’s location to that treacherous prince?”

“i’m doing what is in the best interest of our queen.” 

tamarae opens her mouth in shock, casting a glance up and down jungkook’s frame before taking a breath to calm herself. “what would you know about her best interests?” she begins, now poking a thumb into the firm of the advisor’s chest. “she is happy there, out in the woods in her clearing. he makes her happy.” a breath, “— but you’re so foolishly and selfishly in love with her, you would do anything to make her love you back. well, jeon jungkook...now she will never.” 

“tamarae, i—“

“and you slept with me, i let you wrestle me to bed in your quarters and make a woman of me,”  the princess starts to feel tears form in her eyes, breath becoming shaky and anger rising within her chest. “just so...so you could find where she is. i didn’t tell you, for you to hurt her. i told you because you’re her best friend...” 

jungkook is left, trembling with guilt as the princess turns away and heads back in the direction she came. 

he was desperately in love with you, but was too blind to see the love he was given too.

the feeling beneath taehyung’s skin is nothing like he has ever felt before. it’s a bristling pain that jabs at his flesh, pinches at his every fibre and burning away at his heart. 

it hurts, it pains him and he doesn’t know why. 

the servants strip him of his shirt, sweat licking his honey dipped abs as they douse him with cold spurts of water but nothing helps and the pain doesn’t cease. one places a stick between his teeth for him to clamp down on as they rub at his skin, trying to massage the pain away. instead the supposed, soothing feeling is replaced by a thousand small stabs to his flesh, almost to the point where tears pool in his ocean eyes. 

the double doors to his bedroom open suddenly, Queen elantris making an entrance as maids and servants alike withdraw from the heaving prince. his stares over at his mother as she dismisses all other personnel in the room, dropping his head back into his tangled sheets while he pants, eyes falling shut. 

“mother...”

“shh, my boy, you are in a lot of pain,” elantris hums quietly, brushing her son’s curled charcoal locks from his paling face.  the prince whines like a young dragon pup, the hurt becoming too much to bare. elantris looks down at her child, seizing the moment to rub a cooling herb mix against his chest, despite the growls and roars that emit from taehyung’s lips. she coos at him gently, once she’s done, whispering sweet words into his hair as he shivers in a cold sweat. the dragon queen had seen this once before, never as severe. her child was sick with a deep poison, known as love. 

“what’s happening to me?”

the tone of fear rings in taehyung’s voice as he roars, scales reappearing across his skin and eyes darkening into their golden state. his mother leans down and noses taehyung’s cheek, trying to ease him through the pain and coaches him through it despite the groans he lets out.

“you’ve imprinted, my love,” elantris whispers, linking their hands. “you’re in love, taehyung, with that human girl.” 

the boy gasps through his pain, feeling like a pup being caught stealing from the kitchen like when he was young. taehyung had known that he had always felt strongly towards you, felt strongly for the way your eyes sparkled under the moon and the way your smile shone brightly whenever the dragon had a new trick to show you. taehyung had known, all along, that he was in love with you. “how, how did you know?”

“i could smell her on you, taehyung,” elantris chuckles and releases her child’s hand, helping him to sit. “i may be old but i am not a fool. you have learned to forgive, unlike those of our ancestors. you must go to her, the girl and the closer you are to her, the less pain you will be in.” she hums. “you just go to her.” 

the prince stretches his limbs, a cool slick sliding over his skin. “i will, i love her.” 

the clearing.

when you thought of the clearing, you thought of happiness and love. your love, with taehyung that bloomed solely under the night of the stars but another that grew strongly inside of you. the news you had for taehyung sent a series of fire works bursting in your chest, coursing through your veins— this could be it, could be what could end all the suffering and consequences, letting yourself and your prince be together. 

the familiar sent of sweet moon lily fills your nostrils, easing your nerves as you approach the clearing, your love. the sky is clear above your head, milky pink like the roses your mother used to weave into your hair. you like to believe, that she would be excited for you, looking down at you from the constellations above with joy.  this was not always your plan, but you would not let this get in your way of becoming queen. 

you take care with your steps, unlike times before this, wearing your traditional warrior fit makes the journey easier.  you want to be careful and prevent any harm to what is to come — but suddenly, the air around you feels different, thick with smoke and heavy with  an eerie vibe. something is off, something is wrong. 

peeking through the leaves you spot several men, heavily armed with swords and arrows, in a uniform you do not recognise. upon closer inspection— you notice the emblem on the crest of a soldier from your kingdom . these are your people, men from your army. 

in your clearing. 

rushing forward, you burst from the trees and slap a hand over your mouth at the site. the dragon prince, fully shifted into his beautiful dragon transformation is hooked to the ground with thick metal chains that rub at his skin. taehyung roars, in pain, in fear, you cannot tell and panic begins to rise in your chest, clawing at your throat and tearing at your insides. 

they had found him.

the beast sniffs the air once, twice, the bones in his back cracking as he fights to stand—pulling the men that held him back, off of the ground. yellowed eyes tilt towards you, barely hidden in your precious spot as the prince tries to rip free and expose you. he could sense your presence, your emotions and desperately needed to be with you, he needed you to know about the imprint. 

but before taehyung can reach you, a guard calls and has you on your knees in a second, many others spearing your lover to get him under control. tears sting in your eyes as the first drops of his blood hit the pure grass beneath your knees, where you had made love for the first time, where you were supposed to be safe. 

“taehyung!” you scream, attempting to rip yourself away from the men, your men... that hold you down. it’s almost as if you can feel every pierce of taehyung’s flesh as he roars out for you. yanking your arm free, you attempt to stand, but your pathway is blocked by a pair of black boots and a talk slender figure.  your wobbling lip turns to a sneer, gaze darkening as you look to him. “you...”

namjoon smirks, kneeling down to your height as your own men hold you down. “hello, my queen,” he hums, eyeing your sweat streaked face and angry expression. the man lifts your chin with his forefinger, tilting your head to look up at you. taehyung’s chest rumbles possessively as the latter male’s hands slip to clip your jaw tightly. “you seem to be right on time, love. you’re about to witness the true harvesting of a dragon heart.” 

a flare of outrage ignites in your chest as you lunge forward, biting at namjoon’s finger so hard that you draw blood, while vexed tears cloud your vision. the pink haired prince pulls back, holding his hand tightly in pain. “unhand me.” you breathe heavily, staring up at the men beside you, holding you down and betraying you. “unhand me by order of your princess.” you muster up a stern expression, although your lip wobbles and your eyes water as the pain of your lover courses through your veins. you had not known it was possible to feel so connected, so in tune with someone before. but you understood now, that this was love. love was not your mother and father arguing during nights, where hoseok would cover yourself and your sister’s ears, love was not tolerating and suppressing your bitter hatred for your father. love was not war. love was taehyung. 

the men look to namjoon for guidance as you thrash within their grip, he simply shakes out his wounded hand and stalking towards you, before landing a harsh slap across your face. your head whips to the side, your chest heaving in shock while your lover growls in the distance.  

“i’m afraid they cannot do that your highness,” namjoon spits, pushing you down into the soil. you clutch at your stomach protectively, glowering at the prince. “you father has handed all authority over to me, after your absence for the last two nights. the court has ruled you, unfit to rule until we marry.” 

the prince then turns to the dragon, signalling for his minions to tighten the chains around taehyung. “and he shall be executed in consequence of your action. for imprinting on our queen, like the filthy creature he is.” 

it feels like your world is collapsing, and you are falling underneath the surface. but you cannot give in, you cannot give namjoon the satisfaction of your favour without a fight. you cannot lose taehyung. you close your eyes and swallow thickly, remembering what your mother had instilled in you. every battle has a way to be won. 

“unhand me,” you repeat, steadying your breath. “and i will go with you willingly.” namjoon only chuckles deeply, shaking his head so you take action. ripping yourself from the men behind you, you kick your leg out and take the men down by swipe their feet out from underneath them. elbowing a soldier in the nose and snatching your sword from its sheath, burying it in the chests of two traitors. rolling your shoulders back, you kick down two more men and stay light on your toes. 

you aim for the prince next. 

taking a running sprint, you thrust your sword towards him, barely slicing his cheek as you pant heavily. “release the dragon, and i will spare you,” you seethe through gritted teeth, watching your wounded lover from over namjoon’s shoulder. “don’t be a foolish man, my prince.” you mock, venomously.

“i see that carrying a child has softened your mindset, princess YN,” namjoon comments softly, pushing the blade away from his throat. how could he know? who could have told him? your confident demeanour falters slightly, but you do not allow yourself to slip, holding up your blade again. “the castle maids talk, you show early signs. disgraceful, how you are willing to bare the child of the beast that killed your mother—“ the prince remains cool and collected whilst your resolve starts to crumble, he wins. taehyung wails for you in the background, weakening as you begin to shake. “you will marry me, tomorrow at sunset if you wish for child to be speared. i feel no remorse for ending two lives tonight.” 

the world around you begins to spin lightly, taehyung calling for you to stay strong. namjoon had won, he had you exactly where he wanted you, and there was nothing more you could do. “very well,” you whisper, dropping your gaze along with your mothers sword. “we shall be wed.”

you had never been to a wedding, if you had, you may have been too young to remember. sometimes, if you were lucky enough to hear, your mother would tell you of her own, her white dress and wolf furs, her pearl crown imported from across the sea. when she explained to you, brushing your hair and tying it neatly before bed, she had never smiled, never grinned at the thought of a royal feast. her face had always been void. 

you now, realise why. 

today you would marry, to a man you bared no feelings for. today you would marry out of duty and out of the love you had for someone else. you realise, being older and less naive, that your mother, the queen— married your father as a debt to her kingdom. 

“you look beautiful, YN...” your sister offered, taking over for the maid in weaving flowers into your hair. orchids. the national flower of namjoon’s kingdom. the smell was too sweet, sickly to the point where you felt you would heave. they were everywhere, in your hair and your bouquet, in gifts given by royals from other kingdoms— you hated it. a constant reminder of what you had to lose. tamarae notes your silence, stopping her hands that move to fix hair that has already been tucked into place. “please, say something...”

you blink twice in response, parting your lips as if the words will come on their own — but you’re hollow inside, a ghost of who you once were. there were no more tears to cry, or screams to let out. all of those had passed in the cold night, when your sister held you as you cried because your child would grow without the father they needed. because you were going to lose your love. tamarae sinks to her knees before you, creasing the sweet powder blue dress that she wore. her hand take yours, squeezing it gently as if to remind you that you’re still a person, you still feel. 

“you don’t have to do this,” she whispers hoarsely, white hair falling over her face to shield her from the world. her bottom lip trembles as tears slip down her cheeks— she had lost her mother, her brother and now her sister. what more could she lose? “you don’t have to...”

for the first time in hours, you make a movement...your face twitches into a sad smile as you cup your sister’s cheeks and hold her close. tamarae’s face finds the tule of your wedding dress, trying her best not to stain the expensive fabric imported from namjoon’s kingdom, not that you cared much for it. “i have to, for you and for the people. our people. they have lost faith in me, and they need me—“ you swallow sharply, no more tears. “they need me to show them i care for our people, i care for this war...”

“i don’t want to lose you...”

“you won’t.”

the door bursts open, yourself and your sister jumping apart at the sudden entrance. jungkook inhales deeply, eyes flickering between the two princesses before tamarae scoffs and parts ways with you but not before pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

she shoves past the boy, maids flurrying after her, leaving yourself and the advisor alone. he is the first to speak. “YN, my queen, you’re stunning-“ 

“no,” you interject, looking up at your old friend, coldly. “don’t speak. you don’t get to speak today or i’ll have you executed for treason.” you punctuate your every word, begging yourself to keep it together because if you cry now, jungkook will be the only one to comfort you. your best friend, the man who betrayed you, silences himself, before it’s too late. “you don’t get to say a word, not after what you did to me. not after betraying my trust.” 

“YN, i-“ 

“please,” you hiccup this time, the air in your lungs being sucked away from you with every passing second. jungkook is here to walk you down the isle, towards the man that will only abuse his power of you and your people. jungkook is the reason you are walking this path. “please don’t say anymore. have you not said enough? given away my secrets, out of love you say?” jungkook falters, every fibre in his being screaming out at him to comfort you, but his love for you did this, he destroyed the strong girl he once knew. “then your love is truly misplaced- i have loved you, jeongguk...but only ever as a friend. you used that against my sister, which i truly cannot forgive. so please do not say anymore than you must, for your words only ever hurt us.” 

jungkook bites his lip and nods, offering his arm to you to lead you down to the ceremony. he watches you with sad eyes, but a kind smile, sighing heavily when you return his with a watery one. 

if he had not loved you, this would not have happened. if he had not loved you, he would still have his friend.

the sun is coloured a shade of honey, ribbons of its light casting a warm hue against your skin. sunsets like this are rare, beautiful and not to be taken for granted— they remind you of sweet days with taehyung, his curled hair buried in your neck and his soft giggle filling the air. sunsets reminded you of your love for taehyung.

you watch the sun dip it’s toes into the navy blue of the water, just behind the prince’s head at the end of the isle. namjoon had wanted a wedding by the sea, with enough room for all of your people along with visitors from kingdoms far away. he wanted sea air and a fresh breeze, he wanted open waters, clear enough to see the dye of taehyung’s blood when he executed the dragon prince after the ceremony. he wanted it all, and you wanted to escape. your stomach twists and turns, as the orchestra begin to strum a wedding tune. this isle was not a path to happiness, but one to your death. 

to the people of your kingdom, saw you as a beautiful bride but you saw yourself as a ghost of a human being. jungkook holds you by the arm, steadying your steps as he walks you towards your doom, your own funeral. your own father couldn’t even give you away, too drunk to even stand. you scowl at him as you pass his pew, accompanied by your sweet sister. 

if you had it your way, it would be taehyung at the end of the isle, dressed in his kingdom’s traditional fits as he gave you that toothy grin. his eyes would light up as your brother gave you away, and your mother’s light shined on you from above. taehyung would take your hand firmly in his, slip on the ring and tell you how much he loved you. the dress that you wore would be off at the end of the night, as you made love to one another. but now, here you were, reaching the dreaded prince namjoon, as he smirked at you greasily. 

jungkook gave you a tight, apologetic squeeze before handing you over to namjoon, shielding his face once he joined the rest of the crowd. your gaze slowly shifts to namjoon, hating the way he looked at you, when the ground beneath your feet starts to shake and you hear the pained cry of your love. “taehyung...” you whisper, standing on your tip toes to find him. over the shoulder of the prince, you spot the dragon shivering from pain behind the alter. 

he spasms in his chains, wrists red and sore whilst purple bruises litter his tanned honey skin. he whimpers our for you, causing tears to well in your eyes. all you can do is watch helplessly as the dragon steadies his laboured breathing. small tears slip down your cheeks, streaming through the layers of make up that you wore— the pink haired prince lowers his lips to your ear level. “take a good look, my princess, for this will be the last chance you will ever get.” the prince chuckles, pouting at you mockingly. 

with watery eyes, you glance back at the dragon prince, watching as he falls weak at namjoon’s proximity to his imprint. the injuries taehyung sustained over the time had weakened his dragon transformation, the scales that patched his skin were becoming dull as he bled from wounds here and there. the only way for him to heal would be to be near you again. 

sucking in a deep breath, you blink away the oncoming tears and replace them with a bright smile. smile for the people, smile for your family. “of course, my king,” you say with wobbling words. be strong, you chant. 

the ceremony begins with namjoon’s consent, rushing by with your mind focused on your lover. he’s hurting, in pain and all you want to do his hold him, ease him through it all. you cannot focus, sick to the stomach of what is to come, will you live out the same fate as your mother?  bare beautiful children from the seed of a hateful man. will he ruin your kingdom? what your mother had worked hard to build? this couldn’t be your legacy. 

“and do you, princess YN LN of the  Phantis empire, take prince namjoon of the Kevimore kingdom— to be your lawfully wedded husband, in sickness and in health...as long as you both shall live?” the minister’s words fly over your head, your mouth suddenly feeling dry and the air in your lungs no longer present. 

namjoon leans down to whisper into your ear, warningly. “YN...” 

“i-“ you hesitate, saying yes would mean taehyung would be executed sooner and you couldn’t bare to lose the only love you’ve ever had. namjoon’s arms snake around your waist, pulling you into him, causing taehyung to fall to his knees behind your shoulder, ocean eyes full of tears. he can’t lose his soulmate, not now, not ever. “i’m...”

the words formulate on your lips, the pressure weighing down on your shoulders. 

“stop the wedding!” 

you clutch at your chest, relief flooding through you as the crowd turns their attention to the oncoming voice. an armoured soldier and his men, enter the ceremony eliciting gasps and stares of the congregation, you take the opportunity to slip from namjoon’s slimy grip, while they create a distraction. 

“who do you think you are?” namjoon scowls, stepping forward and pointing an accusing finger at the intruder. “interrupting an officiated ceremony, what authority do you have over a drunken king and his weak daughter?” 

the soldier dismounts from his horse, stepping forward to the middle of the isle and removes his helmet— revealing the similar sloped and heart shaped features of your elder brother. “hoseok,” tamarae calls, stealing the words from your very lips. you watch as your younger sister rushes into his arms, the reunion warming your numbed heart. 

the red heard clutches your sibling close, pressing a kiss to her hair in a protective fashion before glaring daggers into namjoon. if looks could kill the prince would be five miles under. the soldier’s namjoon has under his rein, bend the knee to their rightful prince, giving you time to make a dash for taehyung before he collapses to his side. 

“prince hoseok... what—what are you doing here?”

the man in question raises a brow, ordering his men to take namjoon into custody. “the war is over, with word of my sister’s union with dragon prince-“ hoseok nods his head over to you, smirking as the latter male is brought to his knees in front of the entire court. “— spread across the battle field, man and mythical creature alike have found a way to bring peace,” the eldest sibling makes his way toward the pink haired prince and drawing his sword up to the other’s chin. “and next time...you will think twice before treating my sister, thinking you have power over us all. she is stronger and a much better leader than you will ever be. so stand, take your men and leave before i have your head.” 

namjoon nods vigorously, clearing himself and the ceremony up as you sniff thankfully, turning your attention to the dragon prince. as soon as you hold him in your arms, taehyung collapses, barely breathing as you come into his field of view. his perfect lips are dry and slightly cut, a gash along his brow that will surely scar and purple, burgundy bruises just under his ribs where his wings would be. he looks bad, but your dragon has never looked better. “t-tae...my love, it’s okay..hold on for me, please?” you whisper, brushing his hair back as his eyes flutter open and closed. “please don’t go, don’t leave me now...”

the dragon prince open and closes his mouth, head rolling as you move it into your lap. biting back tears, you brush your curls through his now silver locks, faded from the pain most likely. “don’t leave us, taehyung. don’t you dare.” you add, hoseok ordering servants and men to help give you the medical help that you. you can’t bare to part from your love now, chest heaving with your cries as the dragon slips in and out of consciousness. 

“you’re with a child...” he manages to mumble, gripping your hand tightly as his lips form a slight smile. “i could never leave my soulmate, my imprint behind.” 

your heart lifts, taehyung had told you tales of imprints only once— when his mother and father met, they couldn’t stand to be away from one another... in far too much pain. the story helped you believe in love. an imprint is when a dragon finds their mate, their one true love...and taehyung had found that in you. 

“i love you, taehyung.” 

“and i, love you.” 

you let go of his hand, allowing hoseok’s men to whisk your dragon prince away before going to reunite with your siblings. pulling off your veil, you open your arms to join hoseok and tamarae’s hug, nuzzling into them. “we’ll be okay, right?” your little sister asks, nearing tears.  this would be the first time, the three of you have held each other since hoseok left for war.

“we will be,” your brother promises, kissing your hair sweetly. “we always will be.” 

a year later, you find yourself dressed in another gown. the same fabric as your mother’s from her own coronation, emerald green silk made by those in the village embroiled with crystals from the caves of taehyung’s very own kingdom. your smile shines brightly as your younger sister fixes your hair around the crown you wear, diamond encrusted, silver plated, like the one your mother was. “sister, if you don’t stop moving, you’re going to miss your presentation to the public,” tamarae scolds you, stepping back when she’s finished with her work. “as queen.” 

“queen— that does sound delightful, don’t you think?” you tease, touching at your makeup gently before snaking your lips. tamarae rolls her eyes and pushes your shoulder gently, mumbling something about seeing you out there. over the course of the year, your father had stepped down from his position in the court allowing you to take the lead on your path to queen while you and taehyung reunified the human and magic worlds. after he recovered, you married taehyung in the dead of the night, under the stars in his kingdom, with blessing from his mother and today, you had finally been coronated as queen. 

“incoming!” a voice called, bringing a babbling baby into the room. your smile widened as jimin, the Phoenix and taehyung’s most trusted advisor stepped in, bringing over your daughter of three months. “taehyung is being dressed at the moment, hoseok is doing a cover of the grounds and jungkook,” jimin lists— adjusting cahira, your baby, in your arms. her name meaning, warrior. “he’s setting up things out front on the balcony.” 

“thank you, jimin,” you nod, bouncing your sweet girl before dismissing your husband’s advisor. 

after namjoon was punished for an attempt at overthrow, you managed to salvage your friendship with jungkook, only to the distain of your husband (it took several growling matches and attempts to calm him down before he let your advisor anywhere near you). but nonetheless, you couldn’t help but turn to mush as you watched over your baby, cahira’s eyes were large and bright like yours, taking on the blue colour of taehyung’s. her black hair was curled, with a patch of white from your mother’s side. her nose was most definitely yours, however. taehyung said that from her early months, it was impossible to tell whether she would show traits of a dragon or not, you would have to wait until her first tooth to see. 

but you knew, just by looking at your young princess— she was made to be a queen, just like you and her grandmother before you. 

“i love the way you look at her, like she is all that there is to the world,” your king grins from the doorway, moving over and bending down slightly to play with his daughter’s tiny hands. it truly is a sight to see, a large and mighty beast, cooing at his tiny baby girl. “hi there, cahira...it’s your daddy!” you sweep over your husband, taking in his floppy hair and his tight fitting black blazer that’s spiralled with silver patterns to match your dress. the ash haired dragon preens happily, primal instincts kicking in while he occupies himself with his daughter on your hip, before looking up at you through the curtain of his hair.  “and i must say, i do enjoy the way you look at me as well.” 

shaking your head, you lean down to meet taehyung’s sweet lips, wiping the small smirk off of his face,” a look of adoration, for the people i love most in this world.” you say, standing straight as your lover takes you into his arms, mindful of the giggling baby between you. “i am happy like this, with you.” 

“i am happy with you, completely and utterly in love with you, and my daughter,” taehyung whispers into your hair, kissing it. “we ended the war, and finally received the happy ending that we deserved.”  you stand in the middle of the throne room, just off of the balcony, listening to the chants and calls of your people— both yours and taehyung’s, in the distance. the war had been ended, your love had united the people and your people finally brought together. 

your maids enter the room, opening the doors to the balcony as jungkook comes through to salute you. taehyung separates from you, lacing your fingers together— allowing you to catch glimpse of the wedding rings you both wore. together, for an eternity. 

“ready to face the world, my love?” taehyung asks, taking cahira from your arms and settling her on his hip. “my queen?” 

you stand on your tiptoes, adjusting the matching crown on his head. you thought that you would never rule with a man by your side, and you didn’t need one. but taehyung would never take away from you as a woman, you were his queen and you always would be. you smile brightly, squeezing his palm and nod. “with you, i always will be.” you answer, taking his hand and stepping out towards your future. 

you had once wanted to hold a dragon’s heart, little did you know, he would be holding yours instead. 

⇢ author’s note(s): hi everyone! thank you so much for reading! I really enjoyed writing this fic, i think im most proud of this project and so, in the future im thinking of doing some kind of spin off seires/drabble collection, let me know what you guys think? feedback is always appreciated :D

[neoyorzapoteca]

an interview with Judith Butler

Alona Ferber: In Gender Trouble, you wrote that "contemporary feminist debates over the meanings of gender lead time and again to a certain sense of trouble, as if the indeterminacy of gender might eventually culminate in the failure of feminism”. How far do ideas you explored in that book 30 years ago help explain how the trans rights debate has moved into mainstream culture and politics?

Judith Butler: I want to first question whether trans-exclusionary feminists are really the same as mainstream feminists. If you are right to identify the one with the other, then a feminist position opposing transphobia is a marginal position. I think this may be wrong. My wager is that most feminists support trans rights and oppose all forms of transphobia. So I find it worrisome that suddenly the trans-exclusionary radical feminist position is understood as commonly accepted or even mainstream. I think it is actually a fringe movement that is seeking to speak in the name of the mainstream, and that our responsibility is to refuse to let that happen.

AF: One example of mainstream public discourse on this issue in the UK is the argument about allowing people to self-identify in terms of their gender. In an open letter she published in June, JK Rowling articulated the concern that this would "throw open the doors of bathrooms and changing rooms to any man who believes or feels he’s a woman", potentially putting women at risk of violence.

JB: If we look closely at the example that you characterise as “mainstream” we can see that a domain of fantasy is at work, one which reflects more about the feminist who has such a fear than any actually existing situation in trans life. The feminist who holds such a view presumes that the penis does define the person, and that anyone with a penis would identify as a woman for the purposes of entering such changing rooms and posing a threat to the women inside. It assumes that the penis is the threat, or that any person who has a penis who identifies as a woman is engaging in a base, deceitful, and harmful form of disguise. This is a rich fantasy, and one that comes from powerful fears, but it does not describe a social reality. Trans women are often discriminated against in men’s bathrooms, and their modes of self-identification are ways of describing a lived reality, one that cannot be captured or regulated by the fantasies brought to bear upon them. The fact that such fantasies pass as public argument is itself cause for worry.

AF: I want to challenge you on the term “terf”, or trans-exclusionary radical feminist, which some people see as a slur.

JB: I am not aware that terf is used as a slur. I wonder what name self-declared feminists who wish to exclude trans women from women's spaces would be called? If they do favour exclusion, why not call them exclusionary? If they understand themselves as belonging to that strain of radical feminism that opposes gender reassignment, why not call them radical feminists? My only regret is that there was a movement of radical sexual freedom that once travelled under the name of radical feminism, but it has sadly morphed into a campaign to pathologise trans and gender non-conforming peoples. My sense is that we have to renew the feminist commitment to gender equality and gender freedom in order to affirm the complexity of gendered lives as they are currently being lived.

AF: The consensus among progressives seems to be that feminists who are on JK Rowling’s side of the argument are on the wrong side of history. Is this fair, or is there any merit in their arguments?

JB: Let us be clear that the debate here is not between feminists and trans activists. There are trans-affirmative feminists, and many trans people are also committed feminists. So one clear problem is the framing that acts as if the debate is between feminists and trans people. It is not. One reason to militate against this framing is because trans activism is linked to queer activism and to feminist legacies that remain very alive today. Feminism has always been committed to the proposition that the social meanings of what it is to be a man or a woman are not yet settled. We tell histories about what it meant to be a woman at a certain time and place, and we track the transformation of those categories over time.

We depend on gender as a historical category, and that means we do not yet know all the ways it may come to signify, and we are open to new understandings of its social meanings. It would be a disaster for feminism to return either to a strictly biological understanding of gender or to reduce social conduct to a body part or to impose fearful fantasies, their own anxieties, on trans women... Their abiding and very real sense of gender ought to be recognised socially and publicly as a relatively simple matter of according another human dignity. The trans-exclusionary radical feminist position attacks the dignity of trans people.

AF: In Gender Trouble you asked whether, by seeking to represent a particular idea of women, feminists participate in the same dynamics of oppression and heteronormativity that they are trying to shift. In the light of the bitter arguments playing out within feminism now, does the same still apply?

JB: As I remember the argument in Gender Trouble (written more than 30 years ago), the point was rather different. First, one does not have to be a woman to be a feminist, and we should not confuse the categories. Men who are feminists, non-binary and trans people who are feminists, are part of the movement if they hold to the basic propositions of freedom and equality that are part of any feminist political struggle. When laws and social policies represent women, they make tacit decisions about who counts as a woman, and very often make presuppositions about what a woman is. We have seen this in the domain of reproductive rights. So the question I was asking then is: do we need to have a settled idea of women, or of any gender, in order to advance feminist goals?  

I put the question that way… to remind us that feminists are committed to thinking about the diverse and historically shifting meanings of gender, and to the ideals of gender freedom. By gender freedom, I do not mean we all get to choose our gender. Rather, we get to make a political claim to live freely and without fear of discrimination and violence against the genders that we are. Many people who were assigned “female” at birth never felt at home with that assignment, and those people (including me) tell all of us something important about the constraints of traditional gender norms for many who fall outside its terms.  

Feminists know that women with ambition are called “monstrous” or that women who are not heterosexual are pathologised. We fight those misrepresentations because they are false and because they reflect more about the misogyny of those who make demeaning caricatures than they do about the complex social diversity of women. Women should not engage in the forms of phobic caricature by which they have been traditionally demeaned. And by “women” I mean all those who identify in that way.

AF: How much is toxicity on this issue a function of culture wars playing out online?

JB: I think we are living in anti-intellectual times, and that this is evident across the political spectrum. The quickness of social media allows for forms of vitriol that do not exactly support thoughtful debate. We need to cherish the longer forms.

AF: Threats of violence and abuse would seem to take these “anti-intellectual times” to an extreme. What do you have to say about violent or abusive language used online against people like JK Rowling?

JB: I am against online abuse of all kinds. I confess to being perplexed by the fact that you point out the abuse levelled against JK Rowling, but you do not cite the abuse against trans people and their allies that happens online and in person. I disagree with JK Rowling's view on trans people, but I do not think she should suffer harassment and threats. Let us also remember, though, the threats against trans people in places like Brazil, the harassment of trans people in the streets and on the job in places like Poland and Romania – or indeed right here in the US. So if we are going to object to harassment and threats, as we surely should, we should also make sure we have a large picture of where that is happening, who is most profoundly affected, and whether it is tolerated by those who should be opposing it. It won’t do to say that threats against some people are tolerable but against others are intolerable.

AF: You weren't a signatory to the open letter on “cancel culture” in Harper's this summer, but did its arguments resonate with you?

JB: I have mixed feelings about that letter. On the one hand, I am an educator and writer and believe in slow and thoughtful debate. I learn from being confronted and challenged, and I accept that I have made some significant errors in my public life. If someone then said I should not be read or listened to as a result of those errors, well, I would object internally, since I don't think any mistake a person made can, or should, summarise that person. We live in time; we err, sometimes seriously; and if we are lucky, we change precisely because of interactions that let us see things differently.  

On the other hand, some of those signatories were taking aim at Black Lives Matter as if the loud and public opposition to racism were itself uncivilised behaviour. Some of them have opposed legal rights for Palestine. Others have [allegedly] committed sexual harassment. And yet others do not wish to be challenged on their racism. Democracy requires a good challenge, and it does not always arrive in soft tones. So I am not in favour of neutralising the strong political demands for justice on the part of subjugated people. When one has not been heard for decades, the cry for justice is bound to be loud.

AF: This year, you published, The Force of Nonviolence. Does the idea of “radical equality”, which you discuss in the book, have any relevance for the feminist movement?

JB: My point in the recent book is to suggest that we rethink equality in terms of interdependency. We tend to say that one person should be treated the same as another, and we measure whether or not equality has been achieved by comparing individual cases. But what if the individual – and individualism – is part of the problem? It makes a difference to understand ourselves as living in a world in which we are fundamentally dependent on others, on institutions, on the Earth, and to see that this life depends on a sustaining organisation for various forms of life. If no one escapes that interdependency, then we are equal in a different sense. We are equally dependent, that is, equally social and ecological, and that means we cease to understand ourselves only as demarcated individuals. If trans-exclusionary radical feminists understood themselves as sharing a world with trans people, in a common struggle for equality, freedom from violence, and for social recognition, there would be no more trans-exclusionary radical feminists. But feminism would surely survive as a coalitional practice and vision of solidarity.

AF: You have spoken about the backlash against “gender ideology”, and wrote an essay for the New Statesman about it in 2019. Do you see any connection between this and contemporary debates about trans rights?

JB: It is painful to see that Trump’s position that gender should be defined by biological sex, and that the evangelical and right-wing Catholic effort to purge “gender” from education and public policy accords with the trans-exclusionary radical feminists' return to biological essentialism. It is a sad day when some feminists promote the anti-gender ideology position of the most reactionary forces in our society.

AF: What do you think would break this impasse in feminism over trans rights? What would lead to a more constructive debate?

JB: I suppose a debate, were it possible, would have to reconsider the ways in which the medical determination of sex functions in relation to the lived and historical reality of gender.

(link)