#who will be throwing their life away for an advantage or a win

[unohanadaydreams]

Rewatched the latest episode and actually hearing Iba saying over and over that his captain did nothing wrong as he lifts Komamura and carries him further than his captain could carry himself toward the enemy……this arc getting animated has done immense things to further the angst and I am thriving.

[fictionadventurer]

I have to talk about Chester Arthur. His story makes me go crazy. A mediocre president from the 1880s who's completely forgotten today has one of the best redemption stories I've ever heard and I need to make people understand just how cool his story is.

So, like, he starts out as this idealist, okay? He's the son of an abolitionist minister and becomes famous as a New York lawyer who defends the North's version of Rosa Parks whose story desegregates New York City's trolley system.

Then he starts getting pulled into politics and becomes one of the grimiest pieces of the political machine. He wants money, power, prestige, and he gets it. He becomes the right-hand man of Roscoe Conkling, the most feared political boss in the nation, a guy who will throw his weight around and do the most ruthless things imaginable to keep his friends in power and destroy his enemies.

Because Arthur's this guy's top lackey, he gets to be Controller of the Port of New York--the best-paying political appointment in the country, because that port brings in, like, 70% of the federal government's funds in tariffs. He gets a huge salary plus a percentage of all the fines they levy on lawbreakers, and because he's not afraid to make up infractions to fine people over, he is absolutely raking in the dough. Making the rough equivalent of $1.3 million a year--absolutely insane amounts of money for a government position. He's spending ridiculous sums on clothes, buying huge amounts of alcohol and cigars to share with people as part of his job recruiting supporters to the party, going out nearly every night to wine and dine people as part of his work in the political machine. He's living the high life. Even when President Hayes pulls him from his position on suspicions of fraud, he's still living a great life of wealth, power, and prestige.

Then in 1880, his beloved wife dies. While he's out of town working for a political campaign. And he can't get back in time to say goodbye before she dies. Because he's a guy who has big emotions, it absolutely tears him up inside, especially because Nell resented how much his political work kept him away from home. He has huge regrets, but he just moves in with Roscoe Conkling and keeps working for the political machine.

And then he gets a chance to be vice president. The Republican Party has nominated James Garfield, a dark horse candidate who wants to reform the spoils system that has given Conking his power and gave Arthur his position as Port Controller. Conkling is pissed, and he controls New York, and since the party's not going to win the election without New York, they think that appointing Conkling's top lackey as vice-president will pacify him.

They're wrong--Conkling orders Arthur to refuse--but Arthur thinks this sounds like a great opportunity. The only political position he's ever held is Port Controller--a job he wasn't elected to and that he was pulled from in disgrace. Vice President is way more than he could ever have hoped for. It's a position with a lot of political pull and zero actual responsibilities. He'll get to spend four years living in up in Washington high society. It's the perfect job! Of course he accepts, and Conkling comes around when he figures out that he can use this to his advantage.

When Garfield becomes president, Arthur does everything he can to undermine him. He uses every dirty political trick he can think of to block everything that Garfield wants to do. He refuses to let the Senate elect a president pro tempore so he can stay there and influence every bill that comes through. He all but openly boasts of buying votes in the election. He's so much Conkling's lackey that he may as well be the henchman of a cartoon supervillain. On Conkling's orders, he drags one of Garfield's Cabinet members out of bed in the middle of the night--while the guy is ill--to drag him to Conkling's house so he can be forced to resign. He's just absolutely a thorn in the president's side, a henchman doing everything he can to maintain the corrupt spoils system.

Then in July 1881, when Arthur's in New York helping Conkling's campaign, the president gets shot. By a guy who shouts, "Now Arthur will be president!" just after he fires the gun. Arthur has just spent the past four months fighting the president tooth and nail. Everyone thinks he's behind the assassination. There are lynch mobs looking to take out him and Conkling. The papers are tearing him apart.

Arthur is absolutely distraught. He rushes to Washington to speak with the president and assure him of his innocence, but the doctors won't let him in the room. He gets choked up when talking to the First Lady. Reporters find him weeping in his house in Washington. Once again, death has torn his world apart and he's not getting a chance to make amends.

Arthur goes to New York while the president is getting medical treatment, and he refuses to come to Washington and take charge because he doesn't dare to give the impression that he's looking to take over. No one wants Arthur to be president and he doesn't want to be president, and the possibility that this corrupt political lackey is about to ascend to the highest office in the land is absolutely terrifying to everyone.

Then in August, when it's becoming clear that the president is unlikely to recover, he gets a letter. From a 31-year-old invalid from New York named Julia Sand. A woman from a very politically-minded family who has been following Arthur's career for years. And she writes him this astounding letter that takes him to task for his corrupt, conniving ways, and the obsession with worldly power and prestige that has brought him wealth and fame at the cost of his own soul--and she tells him that he can do better. In the midst of a nationwide press that's tearing him apart, this one woman writes to tell him that she believes he has the capacity to be a good president and a good man if he changes his ways.

And then he does. After Garfield dies, people come to Arthur's house and find servants who tell them that Arthur is in his room weeping like a child (I told you he had big emotions), but he takes the oath of office and ascends to the presidency. And he becomes a completely different man. His first speech as president mentions that one of his top priorities is reforming the spoils system so that people will be appointed based on merit rather than getting appointed as political favors with each change in the administration. Even though this system made him president. When Conkling comes to Arthur's office telling him to appoint his people to important government positions, Arthur calls his demands outrageous, throws him out, and keeps Garfield's appointees in the positions. "He's not Chet Arthur anymore," one of his former political friends laments. "He's the president."

He loses all his former political friends. He's never trusted by the other side. Yet he sticks to his guns and continues to support spoils system reform. He prosecutes a postal service corruption case that everyone thought he would drop. He's the one who signs into law the first civil service reform bill, even though presidents have been trying to do this for more than ten years, and he's the person who's gained all his power through the spoils system. He immediately takes action to enforce this bill when he could have just dropped it. He becomes a champion of this issue even though it's the last thing anyone would have expected of him.

He oversees naval reform. He oversees a renovation of the White House. He still prefers the social duties of the presidency, but he's respectable in a way that no one expected. Possibly because Julia Sand keeps sending him letters of encouragement and advice over the next two years. But also because he's dying.

Not long after ascending to the presidency, he learns he's suffering from a terminal kidney disease. And he tells no one. He keeps going about his daily life, fulfilling his duties as president, and keeps his health problems hidden. Once again, death is upending his life, and this time it's his own death. He's lived a life he's ashamed of, and he doesn't have much time left to change. He enters the presidency as an example of the absolute worst of the political system, and leaves it as a respectable man.

He makes a token effort to seek re-election, but because of his health problems, he doesn't mind at all when someone else gets the nomination. He dies a couple of years after leaving office. The day before his death, he orders most of his papers burned, because he's ashamed of his old life--but among the things that are saved are the letters from Julia Sand, the woman who encouraged him to change his ways.

This is an astounding story full of so many twists and turns and dramatic moments. A man who falls from idealism into the worst kind of corruption and then claws his way back up to decency because of a series of devastating personal losses and unexpected opportunities to do more than he could have ever hoped to do. I just go crazy thinking about it and I need you all to understand just how amazing this story is.

[sinsirellaxx]

Toxic!Slytherin boys when they realize that if they don't make an effort to change, they will never fully win the heart of the person they believe to be the love of their life.

Slytherin Boys – when they realize that they could lose you if they don't make an effort to change

Warnings: toxic boys, being their toxic selves.

Mattheo …

… would struggle so much. He would be in complete denial and think that everyone else was trying to force you apart until you finally broke down in front of him because of something he had said. His eyes had widened when he heard you whimper as you cried. And that was the first time he actually questioned himself.

…  was plagued by nightmares that night, when he laid in bed. Nightmares of losing you. In the morning, he had to accept the truth: He was going to lose you if he didn’t change.

… would change slowly, as it proved to be more difficult to let old habits die than he expected. He wouldn’t talk about it or apologize to you in fear of making you realize what big of an asshole he had been to you – he couldn’t risk losing you. He would only apologize and tell you he’d change if you were to fight.

Theodore …

… is confused when you angrily shut the door behind you, standing in the middle of his room, all alone, with his mouth agape.

… would immediately take it back a notch and suppress the urge to control and manipulate you.

… would apologize to you with tears in his beautiful eyes as he lifted your hands to his face to press kisses onto every single finger.

… would not be as cocky and arrogant as usual after being ignored by you for days – because for the first time ever, he was scared of losing you.

… would buy you flowers every day – he would even make the lemon biscotti his late mother used to make him to cheer him up.

“My mother used to make these for me to express her love for me and I hope it conveys the same message to you. I’m so sorry, amore. I was wrong – please forgive me.”

Lorenzo …

… would be dead-serious when he realized you were drifting away.

… would try everything to tighten his grip on you – which backfired at first. While he was trying to pull you closer, he pushed you even further away with his clinginess.

… would have to confide in his friend, for he couldn’t find a balanced way to change but he wouldn’t be satisfied with their feedback.

… in the end he would sit you down and talk to you – heart to heart. He would push aside his pride and talk about his insecurities with you and tell you that he wanted to change.

… had been scared at first – thinking you would laugh into his face. However, it seemed to be the right thing to do as you seemed to melt away at his vulnerability, throwing your arms around him in a warm embrace.

“Thank you, love. I’ll be better, I promise.”

Draco …

… panics.

… is frantic because he does not know what to do. What were you expecting of him?

… would be too proud to ask you.

… asks his mother instead, who is disappointed by her son’s behavior.

… will think about his mother’s words after the hour-long lecture that he had to sit through and will try to apply some of her advice.

… will work really hard to make things right.

“I’m sorry for neglecting your feelings, princess.”

Blaise …

… knew it was coming.

… knew that you were smart and that you would probably be fed up with him if he went too far – which he apparently did.

… he’d be at your door the next morning after the fight, ready to do whatever you asked of him.

“Babe, I truly love you – please forgive me. I know you love me too. So, please … give me another chance.”

Tom …

… refuses to change.

… does not recognize his mistakes or wrong-doings – he thinks you’re being overly sensitive and dramatic.

… is a legilimens and uses his abilities to his advantage – if he finds out that you are too weak to leave him – too in love – he’ll never change.

… however, if he is worried, he’ll entertain your wish for him to change occasionally.  Giving into some of your demands once in a while if it works out for him only to go back to his usual ways.

… will have you trapped that way. If you somehow try to leave him, he’ll still have his trusted wand to assist him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, doll. Now be a good girl and come here – you know I’d never harm you in any way.”

[yandere-toons]

Matthew Patel

Romantic Headcanons – Yandere

WARNING: violence, death, implied stalking, mentions of religious concepts, toxic mindset.

From the moment you invite Matthew into your life, he will carry that memory to his deathbed. The bond you forged that day is unbreakable and immortal for him: he will go blind to all other reasons for living, consumed with rage at your absence, and ecstatic at any sign of your favour.

Talk of other suitors sends Matthew into a frenzy from which he will not emerge until this obstacle to his happiness is laid low. Dispute over the value of certain traits leaves Matthew resentful—of himself for not being better, of the other person for possessing what he lacks, and of the universe for cursing him with such horrid luck.

When such a person speaks your name, Matthew is driven by his own insecurities to loathe them. The sound of their voice becomes like a cheese grater to his ears, a reminder of how close he is to losing his world for the second time, and from thence into a sound he will fight to the death to silence.

The look of this person, particularly when they light up at the mere mention of you and receive such a look in kind, is a ghastly thing. Matthew's takeaway is one of doubt and bad memories, of all the similarities to Ramona's waning interest that he had been too immature and inattentive to rectify. He vows not to make the same mistake twice.

Seemingly overnight, Matthew transforms from a brooding presence lurking in your shadow to a wellspring of offers to solve even the smallest of issues. He makes a habit of dropping to one knee and delivering a Pagliacci-esque soliloquy about how deep his affection runs, professing that you've become his whole world and that to lose you would leave him with nothing.

Despite your promise not to "betray" him, as Matthew so graciously puts it, he fears it would be a mistake to let his guard down. He believes you were sincere at the time, but Ramona's flippant attitude has left him anxious that you may change your tune and turn your back on him for no apparent reason.

For years, Matthew sought answers as to why she hurt him: on bad days, he blames her for playing with his emotions; on worse days, he blames himself for not trying hard enough to become someone she wanted. Now that he has another shot at human connection, this earth will burn before it slips away from him.

Matthew's actions arise from a peculiar sense of justice: he views himself as retribution sent down upon all those who have wronged you. By daring to replace him, their way of looking after you is inherently and unforgivably flawed. Someone who could, in reality, be quite decent will devolve in his mind into a parasite who takes advantage of you.

Whether they are cruel or kind-hearted, what obsesses Matthew and keeps him stewing for potentially years is the notion that they've robbed him of his one chance at happiness. So long as they keep you company, he sees his future darkening.

What should be a private affair, Matthew turns into a spectacle: he takes to the stage in his most flamboyant attire and declares war, goading his enemy to meet their doom at his hand. Everything, from the venue to the battle itself, is a power play, a performance art in which he displays his prowess for all to admire and envy.

Once he has struck the first blow, there is no version of events where Matthew shows mercy or admits defeat. The harder they fight, the prouder he is to butcher them. Their death will be a triumph, a testament to the fact that he is strong enough to win this war. Anyone who rolls over in the face of his challenge must not be truly committed to you and therefore deserves to feel his wrath for stringing you along.

Coming to over the shiny remains of his enemy, Matthew forgets his rage and revells in the thought of having the sole being who brings him happiness. Ready to pick up where he left off and confident he's earned that right, Matthew throws himself at you and proclaims how thrilled he is to be together again.

Matthew struggles to move beyond the past and to envision a future where he is alone. Having spent much of his life pursuing others, Matthew has no concept of living for himself. He stakes his survival on the volume of applause at the end of every performance, and in the home environment, his tendency to cling to petty recognition has taken root in all interactions.

This emotional hunger reveals itself in the unnecessary extremes to which Matthew proves his devotion, convinced that the obsequious nature of his company and continual sacrifices gives them meaning. He jumps at every opportunity to be near you, no exceptions, afraid that missing even one will be termed neglect and spell the ruin of his life with you.

At his best, Matthew is an unrelenting thespian who serenades you with ballads and calligraphic poetry. But at his worst, he is an unstable and violent creature full of pent-up rage, who conspires with Daemonettes to bind your soul to his, making it virtually impossible to give him up for another.

Do anything you want with my work, but never make me boring!

[dreaming-medium]

Stray Kids Kinktober Day 2

Stray Kids Kinktober Masterlist

Titfucking - Hyunjin

Word Count: 3.1k

Summary: Hyunjin was always staring— he wasn’t as conspicuous as he originally thought. It’s time to take matters into your own hands.

———————————————————

It was about six months into your relationship when you clocked Hyunjin’s slight obsession with your chest. 

Well, slight is putting it gently. 

In the beginning you chocked it up to him just being a man with wandering eyes and a libido to challenge that of a Roman emperor. After all, it’s not uncommon for one to stare, especially when you wear a lower collared shirt. 

Then, the first time the two of you went to the club together as a couple, he could not keep his hands to himself the entire time. Even surrounded by all of your friends, when he danced behind you, his thumb would ‘accidentally’ brush the underside of your tits. 

Most mornings when one of you stays over at the other’s apartment, you’ll wake up with his arms around you. His hips will be pressed against your ass and one hand up your shirt, cupping your naked breast. 

His morning wood would harden the more he woke up and he would continuously fondle you even more until he eventually straddles you and fucks you like your life depends on it.

You catch Hyunjin staring all the time. 

It doesn’t bother you, no, not in the slightest. In fact, quite the opposite. You absolutely love the extra attention he gives your chest. 

As someone who’s had extreme sensitivity there for your entire life, it feels like you’ve hit the jackpot. Well, both of you did. 

If the two of you are spooning on the couch watching a movie, all it takes is one lithe hand slithering underneath your shirt and you’re suddenly the horniest you’ve ever been. 

And the bastard knows it, too. It’s a win-win situation for the both of you. Especially when you get to be on top. You get to ride Hwang Hyunjin and he gets to watch your tits bounce before his very eyes like a private show. 

Still, even after all this time, he will not admit to your face how much he gets off thinking about your tits and your tits alone. 

But, that was all going to change tonight if everything was going to follow your plan.

With a new comeback just a month away, the poor thing has been stressed out of his mind. Every morning, Hyunjin wakes up before you and goes to bed after you. 

Lately, you’ve taken to sleeping and basically living out of his apartment just so he can hold you at night.  

There’s a few texts throughout the day; he’ll send you selfies of his stage outfits, videos of choreography, voice notes of random stories about the boys. But you’d be lying if you said your thoughts were less than pure when consuming whatever he gives you. 

In one video, he was showing you the new choreo to a song and the only thing you were able to focus on was the movement of his hips. How is he able to do that so fluidly?

That was your final straw. 

It was Friday night, he didn’t have to be at the studio until early afternoon tomorrow. And you planned on using that to your advantage. 

Hyunjin was going to walk through that door any minute now, and he had no idea what’s waiting for him. 

It’s close to midnight when the apartment door opens.

“Hyunjin!” You call out from the bedroom, “Is that you?”

“Yeah,” he calls back to you. He kicks his shoes off by the door and throws his keys into the bowl on the table. “You will not believe the day I had.”

“Oh, yeah?” you answer. “Would you mind helping me with something? You can tell me all about your day while you do so.”

You cannot help the sing-songy mischievous timbre to your voice. It seems to go right over his head since he continues talking. 

“Minho drilled us on choreography all day,” he whines. “Some of the others didn’t get the foot work right away so we kept doing it over and over again.”

His voice gets louder the closer he walks to the bedroom.

“Towards the end of it I just wanted to—“

Hyunjin immediately stops talking, a gasp catching in his throat. 

There you stood in front of the full length mirror in one of the skimpiest bikinis he’s ever seen in his entire life. The fabric barely covered your most intimate areas, straps wound around your entire body. 

A metal heart sat right underneath the valley of your breasts. 

Every thought Hyunjin has ever had in his entire life has flown out the window. Gone with the wind.

“Do you like it?” you ask innocently, not turning to look at him fully. You’re playing a game with him and he doesn’t even know it. “The girls and I have that weekend spa trip coming up and I wanted to get some new suits. I tied a knot in the back and I can’t get it undone.”

Hyunjin stands in the door, his mouth opening and closing over and over again. 

“Hyunjinnie?” a barely contained smirk graces your lips and you turn to look at him. Batting your eyelashes innocently, you twist your body around for him to see everything. 

“It’s—“ his voice is hoarse when it comes out, so he clears his throat. “It looks gorgeous on you, Y/N. But, ah… are you sure you want to wear that to the spa? What if you get tan lines, you don’t want that, right? All those… strappy tan lines.”

You giggle at his rambling. 

“I was thinking the same thing, baby. But, I still need help getting it off.”

Hyunjin clenches his jaw and walks over to you, his feet padding on the carpeted floor. 

Instead of turning around when he gets close to you, you wrap your arms around his neck. Like second nature, he rests his own around your waist. 

His bare hands on your skin feel so warm and soft, you shudder at the touch.

Standing up on your tiptoes, you press your barely clothed chest against his. His grip on your waist tightens. 

“I’m so sorry you had such a rough day, Jinnie,” you murmur to him. Hyunjin stares down at you, a pink blush slowly dusting his cheeks. 

You lean forward and press an extremely gentle kiss to his soft lips. His hands spread out on the sides of your rib cage and hold you closer to him. 

It’s just a peck of your lips against his, so when you pull back, he chases after you. 

You don’t let him continue, you turn around in his grasp and lift your hair off your shoulders. 

“Do you mind?” you say, looking back over your shoulder at him. His eyes narrow for a split second before he looks down at the knot in the back of the bathing suit. 

You made sure to tie it on the looser side for this very purpose. 

Dexterous fingers grab at the strap and he works quickly to try and unknot it. Within seconds the top loosens around your chest. 

His fingers slide down the curve of your back gracefully, mapping each inch of skin. The featherlight touch has you shivering. 

Hyunjin exhales shakily through his mouth and the hotness of his breath fans over your exposed skin. 

Slowly, his fingers come around to grab your waist again. But, you reach down and grab both of his wrists tightly. You pull at his wrists a bit so he steps closer to your body. 

As soon as his front is flush with your back, you can feel just how much he loves the bathing suit you’re wearing. 

Inch by inch, you bring his hands up your skin. Over your ribs and up to your chest. 

Hyunjin gasps quietly behind you and you can practically feel his cock jump in his pants. Another shaky breath leaves his lips.

Immediately, his hands slid under the flimsy fabric that was loose and ready to come off. The softest groan comes out of the back of his throat as soon as he cups both of your tits.

After a few seconds, you release his wrists and reach your arms back to wrap around the back of his neck.

Your head tilts back to rest against his collarbone, whines quietly falling from your lips.

Hyunjin’s fingers pinch your perky, hard nipples and you roll your hips backwards into his painfully hard erection.

“Fuck.” he hisses and pinches even harder. 

Dipping down to your neck, Hyunjin latches his mouth onto the soft skin and licks wherever he is able to reach.

“Jinnie,” you mewl, “been thinking about you all day.”

Hyunjin hums against your neck in response, leaving love bites down closer to your shoulder. His preoccupied hands bring you even closer to his chest. 

He can’t get enough of you, his hands paw at your chest, pinching, pulling, and kneading the soft mounds. His head is in the louds, every thought is fuzzy. The only thing he knew was that he never wanted to stop touching your soft skin.

It’s a good thing that your bottoms are meant to absorb moisture.

Behind his head, your fingers play with the hair at the nape of his neck, wrapping around the strands and pulling slightly.

You turn your head to whisper right in his ear. “I want you to play with me how you’ve always wanted to, Jinnie.”��

Hyunjin practically whimpers in response, his hips buck forward and he sucks hard where his mouth was.

You cry out, pushing your ass against him.

“I know you want to, baby. Don’t think I don’t see the way you look at me. How much you like fucking me in the mirror so you can see my tits bounce with each thrust of your cock.”

Hyunjin moans against your skin again, it sounds like he’s almost in pain from how aroused he is.

Both of his hands grip as much of your breasts as he could hold before turning you around in his arms. His lips immediately dip down and capture yours in a heated, wet, hard kiss.

His eyebrows are furrowed together and his hands travel back up your body to fondle your tits even further. The feeling goes straight to your core and you clench your thighs together. Your cunt aching for attention.

But tonight was about him, not you. Plus, you know there’s no way you’re going to bed tonight without cumming, not if Hyunjin had anything to say about it.

While your tongues slide over each other, you reach down and make quick work unbuttoning his jeans. 

You also “accidentally” palm over his cock a few times, each time he moans into your mouth and you swallow the noise greedily.

Hyunjin pulls back for a split second to rip his shirt over his head, throwing it onto the ground carelessly. The entire time his eyes don’t leave your chest, as soon as his shirt is off, his hands are back on your breasts.

He can’t stop staring at how they look in his hands.

A long, heavy breath leaves his lungs when you push his pants and boxers down.

His cock springs free and he hisses at the cold air. 

You get up on your tiptoes and pull his swollen bottom lip between your teeth. “Go lay on the bed, baby.” 

His eyes are glazed over with pure lust. Hyunjin nods dumbly over and over and practically sprints to the bed, sitting down on the edge.

One of his hands absentmindedly pulls at his dick, his eyes stay zeroed in on your chest. The fabric of the bathing suit is doing nothing to cover your breasts anymore.

“What do you think, baby boy. On or off?” You ask, pulling slightly at the strings of the top.

Hyunjin gulps, leaning back on his elbows while his bottom half hangs off the side of the bed.

“O… On.” He answers heavily, lips parting, chest rising and falling with deep intakes of air. Truly, he didn’t care, you could do whatever you want to him at this point and he would beg for more.

You wink in response and walk over to the bed, swaying your hips with each step. His eyes rake over your figure, his Adam’s Apple bobs with a gulp.

When you get to the bed, you sink down onto your knees, eye level with his cock which is completely rock hard and weeping precum at this point.

Keeping direct eye contact, you put your arms behind your back and lean forward, licking a fat stripe up the underside of his cock. 

An absolutely feral, sinful moan reverberates off the walls. Hyunjin throws his head back in pleasure and one of his hands fists into your hair, pulling tightly.

You only smirk once you get to the tip. “Gotta get you nice and wet first.” You pull as much spit into your mouth as you can. 

“Fuck, Y/N!” You see his cock jump at your words.

Your tongue swirls over his tip once before you take his entire dick in your mouth. Hyunjin’s hips buck into your mouth and he lets out a long, deep moan. 

It’s the wettest blowjob you’ve ever given. Spit is leaking out of your mouth and onto his pelvis and then dripping onto the sheets. But you need him soaking wet for what you want to do.

Saliva drips down your neck and onto your chest.

Hyunjin’s eyes follow each drop and when his eyes flicker to yours, you wink. His hand tightens in your hair and he whimpers.

“You’re gunna fucking kill me, Y/N.”

Whine after whine, whimper after whimper. It’s all music to your ears. 

Just when he really starts to get vocal, you lift your mouth off his cock and he howls at the loss of your warm mouth pleasuring him.

“Oh, baby, you have no idea how good this is gunna feel.”

When Hyunjin opens his eyes again to look your way, you let your tongue drop out of your mouth. His lust-blown pupils follow the mouthful of spit and precum that leaks downwards; it drips down your neck and into the valley of your breasts.

The way his face twists in pleasure, you would think he was in physical pain. His ears and cheeks are bright red. His bottom lip pulls between his teeth to try and conceal the noises he’s making.

“Y/N-!” Everything about his demeanor screams desperate. He’s wriggling on the bed, hips moving uncontrollably. The hand that’s not in your hair is clenching the sheets so tight his knuckles are turning white.

From behind your back, you reach your hand up and spread everything over your chest, getting it nice and wet. During the process, you make sure to bring your other hand up and pinch and pull your nipples, putting on a show for Hyunjin. 

“Please,” he’s borderline sobbing at this point. “Please, Y/N.”

“Yeah, Jinnie?” you tease and lean forward, spitting on his cock again, pumping him a few times. “You wanna fuck my tits, baby boy?”

“Fuck!” Hyunjin throws his head back with a broken wail. 

“You wanna put that long cock between my wet tits? You wanna fuck them nice and slow?”

“Yes! Fucking please!” He squirms on the bed. “It’s all I want, Y/N! Please!”

Deciding to be nice, you finally grab your tits in two handfuls, wrapping them around his cock and pushing together.

Hyunjin’s eyes roll back in his head and his back arches off the sheets. More babbles leave his swollen lips.

Slowly, you move your tits up and down on his cock.

He’s going insane, he knows he is. He’s been balls deep in your soaking wet cunt before, he’s had you ride him two ways to Tuesday– but this? Fuck!

The skin on your chest is so soft and warm and it’s so fucking filthy.

With every pump, his dick leaks more and more.

“Jinnie,” you call out to him playfully.

He knows as soon as he looks down, he’s going to blow his load. But he cracks his eyes open anyway, his head lifting off the mattress to look you in the eye.

Right when he does, you stick your tongue out and lick the head of his cock as you pump downwards.

Every single one of his ab muscles clenches when he sees you, he cries out so loudly, his body curls inwards from the pleasure.

The more his cock leaks, the wetter it gets for both of you, and the easier it is to move up and down.

A long string of curses leave his lips as you pick up speed and squeeze your tits together even more.

Hyunjin’s hips begin to move in time with your pumps. Every wet dream he’s woken up from is finally coming true before his very eyes. 

If the neighbors were sleeping, that was long over. Hyunjin has always been vocal in bed, but never like this.

Each lick is sending him closer and closer to the edge. 

“So fucking good to me,” he blubbers, pulling at your hair and your sheets at the same time. His thighs begin to shake.

“Love this so much, baby. Love having your cock between my tits.”

He writhes around from your praise, “Close–! So close, Y/N!”

“Can’t wait for you to cum all over my skin, Jinnie. Might even let you take a picture, set it as your background.”

Picturing everything you’re saying does it for him. Hyunjin calls out your name loudly and his chin dips down to his chest. He yanks your hair in a vice grip.

Cum continuously shoots from his cock, and to put on a great show, you even stick your tongue out further.

To him, it feels like he’s cumming forever. Even after he’s completely empty, shots of pleasure shoot down his thighs every few seconds. It was definitely one of the fucking longest orgasms of his life.

Hyunjin’s mouth hangs open, he can’t seem to catch his breath. But that’s not at all what he’s paying attention to. He’s watching the cum dip from your tongue down onto your chest, the same way your spit had done minutes before.

His cock twitches and he winces from the overstimulation.

“Fuck, look at you.” he pants.

One of your hands moves and you use your finger to spread the cum all over your chest, over your hard nipples and eventually up to your mouth where you suck on the digit.

“So good for me, baby. How long until you can go again?”

[girlgenius1111]

talk more

alexia is stressed upon return to the international stage after her knee issues. she has the most aggressive game of her life against you, and you end up injured. you're both not telling each other how much you're really struggling.

this contains a completely made up and illogical game, don't come at me

cw: contains descriptions of a panic attack

-----

Alexia was on edge, even more so than she had been when you'd left your shared apartment a week ago for England camp. She'd gone to Spain's camp, both of you preparing with your respective teams for the upcoming nations league matches.

Alexia was back from her persistent knee issues, with something to prove. You knew how your girlfriend's mind worked, and you knew she was putting a lot of emphasis on this game. It was why she'd been distant the past week, why she was avoiding eye contact with you as you both stood in the tunnel, preparing to go out onto the pitch.

You hadn't mentioned your own problems when you'd spoken briefly to her over the phone. They seemed inconsequential compared to hers. You were exhausted, incredibly stressed, and you felt like responsibility for the whole team rested on your shoulders, what with Millie and Leah both out. You and Mary had stepped up, and the weight of trying to live up to your captains' was crushing. Alexia did this all the time, though, you reminded yourself. There was nothing to complain about. Once this game was over, she would relax, and so would you.

As you walked out onto the pitch, you ignored the pang of hurt when Alexia didn't even glance her way. It was time to play, time to win, not time to worry about your girlfriend ignoring you. Soon, though, you were worried not just for her, but for everyone else on the pitch. Alexia was playing aggressively, and for the most part it was paying off for her. The ref was being incredibly inconsistent with calling fouls and giving cards, something Alexia was taking advantage of. After she practically shoved Tooney to the ground on a corner, you spoke up, annoyed with how reckless she was acting.

"Cool it, Alexia. You're gonna hurt someone." You said quietly, as you briefly jogged past her. She just looked at you, mouth still pressed into a hard line, barely acknowledging that you'd spoken. You sighed, knowing it was just a matter of time before she was the reason someone had to go off.

You didn't expect it to be you. In Alexia's defense, it was a mostly clean tackle. She caught your ankle, yes, but she had touched the ball first, making it clean. Your ankle crumpled under you, though, and you collapsed to the pitch in crumpled heap with a cry of pain. Alexia stood, looking down at you, horrified, as if only now just realizing the consequences of your actions.

She was shoved out of the way by your teammates, who quickly made their way to your side. She didn't go far, though, looking on, distraught, as your teammates called out for the physios, and you writhed on the ground in agony.

They appeared, asking you questions, and Alexia thought she was going to throw up when they called for a stretcher. How had she done that to you? What was wrong with her?

She stepped closer, hesitantly, trying to get your attention, whether to apologize or beg for forgiveness, she wasn't sure.

"Amor," she asked quietly. Your eyes flew to her above you, and your gaze hardened.

"No, Alexia. Go away." You said through gritted teeth.

"Okay. Lo siento, amor. Lo lamento." she said, backing up and chewing insistently on the side of her cheek. The stretcher arrived, and they got you on it. Every sound you made, every groan of pain, felt like Alexia's heart was being ripped out of her chest. She felt an arm on her shoulder, and turned to find Irene standing behind her.

"Go off, Ale, go with her. We're up anyway." It was true, Spain was winning, and there wasn't much time left. Her departure from the game likely wouldn't cause the team any issues. Still, she shook her head. You were being lifted up, carried off the field now. Alexia wanted to rush forward, wipe the tears off your face, kiss the grimace off your lips.

"No, she doesn't want me right now. I fucked up." Alexia choked out. Irene sighed, not really blaming you. Alexia had been playing like a crazy person today, like she had something to prove.

"Go anyway. You get her to forgive you by proving that you're sorry. So go." Irene insisted, and Alexia paused, before nodding and heading to the sidelines. She was subbed off, and she headed into the tunnel after you. She turned towards England's side, not quite sure how to find you. Luckily, Leah was standing in the hall, talking to a member of the staff. Alexia cleared her throat, and Leah turned towards her, clearly trying to keep her expression neutral.

"Where is she?" Alexia rasped.

"Hospital." Leah responded, voice hard.

Alexia sighed, a few tears escaping against her will. She normally would never, not ever, let an opponent see her cry. When it came to you, though, it was like she had no control over herself. Leah softened slightly at the sight.

"Come on, I'll drive you." The match was in London, and Alexia was glad she didn't have to wait an unknown amount of time to get to you.

"I do not think she wants to see me." Alexia admitted, despite following Leah towards the exit of the building.

Leah rolled her eyes. "All she's wanted for the past week is you, Putellas. And instead of giving her that, you break her ankle."

"What do you mean? She wanted me?" Alexia questioned, confused. You'd seemed okay with the distance she'd imposed on you, telling her you understood that she needed to focus.

They arrived at Leah's car, climbing in, and Leah began driving before she responded.

"She's having a hard time. She has this stupid idea that she needs to be just like Millie, or me, instead of being herself, which is why she was chosen to lead. She's stressed and exhausted, not to mention worried about you and your return. She needed her girlfriend, Putellas. More than anything."

The midfielder felt the last of her strength crumble, and she spent the rest of the car ride silently wiping away the tears that ran down her face. She would fix it, she promised herself. She'd do anything to fix it.

-----

Alexia wasn't at the hospital long. You'd asked Leah not to bring her to your room, and send her back to your apartment with your key instead. Your ankle was broken, it turned out. You were in a boot, on crutches, and miserable, that much Alexia knew. If you were furious with her, or just marginally angry, she didn't know.

She showered quickly, throwing on some of your clothes as she left her bag at the hotel the team was staying at, before settling on the couch, knee bouncing nervously. She wished the apartment was a mess or something, so she could clean it, but it was spotless. She'd already ordered dinner from your favorite restaurant, so she didn't need to cook. Leah texted her when they were downstairs, and she tried to swallow her anxiety as she heard the door open.

You hobbled in, Leah following with your bag. Alexia stood, taking a hesitant step towards you. You didn't even really look at her, crutching by her to sit on the couch. You threw your crutches to the ground, and put your head in your hands, the emotions of the day finally catching up to you. Leah placed your bag down carefully, shooting Alexia a glare, before she kissed the top of your head.

"Call if you need me, okay?"

"Okay," came your response, muffled by your hands.

Alexia moved your crutches to sit against the couch, before taking a seat on the coffee table in front of you.

"Amor, I am so so sorry."

"It was a clean tackle Alexia, don't apologize." You reply, voice emotionless. Your girlfriend shifted uncomfortably.

"I am still sorry. And I am sorry I was not available this week. I should have talked to you more."

"It's fine."

"You are not mad at me?" Alexia wondered. At this, you finally lifted your head out of your hands, looking at your girlfriend with bloodshot eyes, and a flushed face.

"I am mad. I just don't have the energy to be angry with you right now. I'm too exhausted, my ankle fucking kills, and I've missed you too much. It's pathetic." You cry, reaching a hand out towards the blonde. She doesn't waste a second, taking your hand in hers and pressing a few kisses into the back of it.

"It is not pathetic, amor. You need me, that is okay. You can yell tomorrow."

"I needed you all week," you say quietly, and her grip on your hand tightens.

"I know, amor, and I should have known that, and been there for you. I am here now, though, and I am not going anywhere. Not until you are better."

You looked at her through long, wet, lashes. "Promise?" you asked, voice cracking on the word.

"I promise, mi amor, I promise." Alexia assured you. You pulled on her hand, and she shifted onto the couch, bringing you into her lap, minding your ankle. You collapsed into her, face finding it's favorite spot nestled against her neck. You were getting her skin wet with tears, but she didn't seem to care. In fact, she seemed content to sit there with you until you felt better, no matter how long that took. You pulled away before you really felt much better, though.

"Where are you going?" Alexia asked with a slight pout.

"My ankle hurts," You admit, watching as her expression falls into one of immense guilt. She eases you off of her, back onto the couch, instructing you to stretch your legs out.

"Can I?" She asks quietly, hands hovering over the straps on the boot. It was a test, you knew, to see how angry with her you were, deep down. If you trusted her to take care of your injury or not.

"Be gentle." You ask quietly, and she sighs in relief, nodding. Alexia begins to unstrap the boot, lifting the front piece off before sliding it down and off your foot. You winced, the slight movement sending waves of pain up your leg that made you feel sick. Alexia dropped the boot onto the ground, watching carefully as you shut your eyes, willing the pain away. When you opened them, you noticed that Alexia was trying to discreetly wipe a tear away.

"Hey, what is it?" You ask, concerned, grabbing her hand before she could leave the room.

Alexia scoffs, but sits back down. "I broke your ankle. You are in pain because of me."

"Alexia, it was a clean tackle. I'm not mad that about it. It could have been anyone. I'm mad that you were playing like you wanted to get a red card, putting yourself and my teammates in danger." You explain.

"You are not mad about the tackle?" She asked incredulously.

"No, that would be stupid, that was practically your one clean tackle of the game. I'd like to talk about why you were playing like that, though." Alexia wasn't one to play super rough, and you knew that it was likely a result of some issue she was having. It was hard for you to get her to tell you what was going on in her head.

Alexia is quiet for a minute, working out her rather complex feelings of guilt at the moment. If you weren't angry about that, should she feel so furious with herself? The way she'd played was a whole other issue.

"Can we talk about it tomorrow? I want... I want to just be with you tonight. Take care of my girl." Alexia asked. You softened at her request, opening your arms, and gesturing for her to move closer. She leaned forward holding tight to you, inhaling your comforting scent. You were with her, and you were okay. That was all that mattered to her.

"Of course, baby." You murmured, kissing her temple lightly.

And take care of you, she did. She brought you dinner once it was delivered, and carried you into the shower, holding you up the entire time whilst you bathed and washed your hair, even though she'd already showered. She helped you into your pajamas, before getting your ankle propped up on a pillow, wrapped in an ice pack while you reclined on the bed. She stood anxiously next to your side of the bed, looking around as if searching for something else to do.

"Love, come get in bed." You told her, and Alexia focused on you.

"You do not need anything else?" She checked.

"Just you, pretty girl." You said sweetly. Alexia felt her cheeks heat up at that, and moved around to the other side to the bed. Before really getting to know Alexia, you would not have thought her to be a shy person. She was, though, shying away from any attention you tried to give her at first. Eventually, she got used to it, but she still felt her face flush with pleasure when you called her things like that.

Alexia climbed into bed, curling up into your side easily. She looked tired up close, almost as tired as you felt, and you leaned down, pressing your lips to hers. She sighed into the kiss, finally relaxing. When you pulled away, you couldn't help but notice the way her lips tugged down slightly, as if she was fighting a sad frown.

"What is it Ale?" You asked, running your thumb across her cheek.

"I am just tired. And sorry for hurting you, and ignoring you all week. And stressed about my return and my performance. My brain will not turn off. I am so tired, amor." Alexia said, eyes fluttering closed when your hand cupped her cheek.

"That is a lot of things to be worried about, Ale. I've forgiven you. I'm pretty sure I won't even yell at you tomorrow," Alexia smiles slightly at this. "Push all that out of your head. You're here with me, and everything is going to feel better in the morning. Sleep now, my love."

"Thank you. Te amo." She whispers in response, snuggling in closer to your side.

"I love you." You tell her, letting the feeling of her chest rising and falling against you lull you to sleep.

-----

You're rather unfortunately awoken a few hours later by a gasp, and Alexia stumbling out of bed and into the bathroom. You sit bolt upright, confused, watching from the bed as she grips the counter in her hands, breath ragged.

"Alexia?" you call out. You'd get up, but your ankle protests when you try to shift it off the pillow, so you stop moving, waiting for her to answer you. She doesn't acknowledge that you've spoken. She's speaking quietly to herself, eyes squeezed shut, and you strain your ears to hear her.

"Estás bien, estás bien," she repeats, white knuckled grip on the counter looking painful.

"Alexia," you say again, louder this time.

"Okay, amor, I... I am okay," she gasps out. She's having a panic attack, you realize. In all your time with her, you'd never known her to experience this before, and this realization is enough for you to grit your teeth, and try to get to her. You've swung your leg off the bed, biting your lip to keep from crying out, and grabbed for your crutches when she speaks again.

"St-stay there. No te levantes" Alexia says, switching rapidly between english and spanish.

"Come here then, please baby. Before I drag my ankle over there." You plead.

"No puedo," she whimpers, hand coming up to tug at the neck of her shirt, as if it's restricting her breathing. She's not moving anytime soon, and she looks like she's about to pass out if she doesn't get her breathing under control soon.

You curse under your breath, standing up and wobbly moving towards the bathroom. You make it to her, the blood rushing into your ankle once you stand, but you don't really feel it. The adrenaline has taken over, and your only though is helping your girlfriend.

"No-no puedo respirar," she gasps, eyes opening to find you in front of her. "No se que pasa, ayúdame," she pleads, gripping your shirt in her hand.

"Oh, baby," you coo, taking her hand in yours, and pressing it to your chest. "With me, love, you're okay."

She shakes her head frantically, gasping for air at this point.

"No puedo," she says again, before she pulls her hand away from yours, and begins tugging at her shirt again. "Lo necesito apagado, por favor," she cries.

Frustrated with your lack of mobility, and your shaky balance, you discard your crutches, and pull yourself up to sit on the counter. It's not much more comfortable, but you don't have to balance on one foot, and you can't help Alexia with your hands preoccupied with holding your crutches.

You help her pull her shirt over her head, leaving her in just a sports bra. She seems even more frustrated when that doesn't seem to help, and the tears are falling down her face fast, as her mouth flops open and closed as she tries to breath.

"Alexia," you say sternly, grabbing her face in between your hands. Her wild eyes meet yours, and you guide her closer, until she is standing in between your legs. "You're having a panic attack. You need to let yourself breath. Do it with me, okay?" Alexia's eyes are wide and glistening as she allows you to take her hand again, and press it back over your heart. Her breaths are choppy as she tries to match them with yours.

"There you go, Ale, you're doing good," you encourage, as her inhales begin to match yours more. You keep a tight hold on her hand until her breathing is almost normal. But as her hyperventilating ends, more tears replace it. "Alexia," you sigh, pulling her in. You hate seeing her so upset. You'd do anything to take it away, even if just for a minute. Her chin rests on your shoulder as she sniffles occasionally. You rub her back softly, giving her the time she needs to calm down. She jumps back suddenly, though, looking panicked again.

"Your ankle," she says, looking frantically between the swollen limb and your eyes.

"Shh, I'm okay, come back," you tell her, and she moves back into your arms, despite her protests.

"But amor, this is not-" Alexia's voice is weak and choked.

"Don't worry about it Alexia, seriously." You kiss her forehead, then her temple, before guiding her head back onto your shoulder. She relents, body falling almost limp against you. You're both quiet, the only sounds audible being both of your breathing. You bring a hand up to the nape of Alexia's neck, threading your hand through the hair there, and and holding her tightly against you.

You don't know how long the two of you sit there. Long enough for you to feel the pain in your ankle again, dangling off the counter. It was throbbing, hot and painful, under you. You don't want to let Alexia go before she's ready, so you try to bring you leg up, and rest in on the counter. At your movement, though, Alexia pulls away, pursing her lips as she looks at your ankle.

"Ale, it's fine," you try, but she ignores you. She's still unsteady, hands shaking as she grabs your crutches off the ground where she'd dropped them, and handing them to you.

"Bed?" she asks quietly, and you nod. She follows you back to the bed, a slow process, waiting until your sitting down before leaving the room without another word. You call after her, but she doesn't respond. You're just about to get up, and go after her, again, when she returns, ice pack in her still shaking hand. Regardless, she wraps it around your ankle, before climbing back into bed next to you. Her head finds it's place against your chest.

"What happened, love?" you ask. You feel Alexia's shoulder shrug. "No, come on. Talk to me, please."

"I was anxious when I fell asleep, and when I woke up, I could not breath. I think I had a dream, I did my other knee, and they told me I would not play again." The blonde's voice shakes as she speaks.

"That's awful, love." You murmur into her hair.

"I am sorry I woke you, and that you had to help me," she says weakly.

"Don't be. I'm glad I could help," you promise. "Have you ever had a panic attack before?" you ask, already knowing the answer.

"No."

"Alexia, I think you should talk to someone." You suggest, also pretty sure you know what her response will be.

"Maybe," she says noncommittally.

You sigh. "You at least need to talk to me more, Alexia. You can't just shut down when you're having a hard time, you need to let me help."

"I need to talk to you more?" she asks, turning her head to look up at you, voice a little stronger now. "You need to talk to me too then. You were upset all week and I did not know about it." She says it like she's got you. You surprise her, then, when you nod.

"You're right. We both need to talk to each other more. I know it's not easy, but I'm here, whatever you need, whenever you need me. Okay?"

"Te prometo que." Alexia says after a minute, gazing up at you. You can tell she means it. "You promise too?"

"I promise, Alexia."

Neither of you are perfect, or would ever claim to be. You are, however, perfect for each other. Exactly what the other needs. You know you'll get through anything with Ale with you, at your side.

-----

i love angst. that is all. goodnight.

[ahhhsami]

Mizu’s Womanhood

I keep thinking about how well Mizu’s story was written. A huge factor that makes me love the show is how they show Mizu’s abilities during fight scenes, but don’t forget that she is a woman. On the surface level people could see these fights as amazing action sequences, but there’s so much story being told at the same time. And that’s what makes an action sequence truly great (Warrior HBO is another example of amazing storytelling through fight choreography. Ah Toy's fight against Cleaver and Hammer comes to mind right away when comparing). 

We start off by seeing Mizu tear through young men in Shindo Dojo. Her skills are showcased as agile, flexible, fast, and based on her ability to use her body in ways that are fluid. She’s tested as soon as Taigen enters the picture. He’s physically stronger than her, shown in a multitude of ways throughout the action sequence from him throwing her to him pushing her down to her knee, but she’s still more skilled. She uses his weight against him, which she will do in every fight during the series. Mizu beats him due to her agility and speed. On top of that, it is the first time we see a man assume victory be his downfall. And it will happen on multiple occasions.

Episode 2 comes around and Mizu is tested again, but this time by 4 opponents and one who is significantly larger and more trained (Chiaki). Mizu's smart, evaluates her situation, and changes her surroundings by jumping down onto the cliffside. It doesn’t put her at an advantage, but at least she’s not at a severe disadvantage. It allows her to fight mainly one-on-one which changes her circumstances. But it doesn’t win the fight for her. What does is her resilience, adaptability, and skill once more. Once again, in the fight, the man opens himself up for a counter during the finishing blow. Chiaki ran forward, his guard completely down because he was sure he’d won like Taigen.

Episode 5 is where we get to see Mizu struggle due to overwhelming numbers. She’s forced into a corner, but the weapon that saves her is the Naginata. Naginatajutsu has been most associated with female samurai. The added range was a huge advantage and allowed women to protect their homes when their samurai husband were gone. I love that Mizu's first time using the weapon extensively was in a situation where it wasn’t her own life on the line, but also the women of the brothel. It showcased the connection between the Naginata, women, and protection in a beautiful way. Also, her using it during these circumstance felt like she was reclaiming the weapon from the traumas she had experienced during Mikio's betrayal. The parallels of Mizu not just being demonized for her blue eyes, but also for being a woman was stunning in this episode.

In Episode 6, we see Mizu almost lose to the big club man (Okiyama). We see her completely overpowered by the size difference. Okiyama can pick her up easily, throw her, and she’s unable to parry him properly. For the first time we truly see the difference between a man’s strength and hers (which will also be present against Fowler). The fact that both Fowler and him pick her up, and attempt to crush her with their bare arms is so powerful and as a woman, it’s a striking parallel to the real world and the powers of men. She was going to lose the fight if not for her last ditch effort, that also could have resulted in her own death with the bomb. It shows her willingness to sacrifice everything for the quest she's on. And at the end of the episode, Fowler manhandles her completely. It doesn’t matter that she’s injured, it doesn’t matter that he has a gun. What matters in that scene is that he takes pleasure in using his power. He destroys the weak and he lords over them. He uses women as sex slaves. He cares for no one but himself. He is the perfect representation of what Mizu as a woman has to fight against. 

There’s no fight scene in Episode 7 of note, but what is important is Mizu’s acceptance of her appearance, whether it be the blue eyes and sharp features, or her womanly features, all of them had once been sources of pain for her. The heart sutra scene is stunning and one of my favorites of the entire series (even if her little toesies were most likely being burned to be so close to the makeshift forge).

And finally Episode 8. We get to see her fight Fowler. I have multiple gripes with the structure of this fight, but it still represents Mizu’s womanhood in a way that continues the flow of the series. Mizu has to use everything to take down Fowler and even when she does she is still overpowered by him. He mirrors Okiyama, easily lifting her and using his strength over her instead of skill. And the line “your bones break like a woman’s” shows the societal norm that men associate with women being weaker, fragile, and unable to withstand what men can. It's fitting of the time period, but also current day too.

But hubris is the man’s downfall in this series because as soon as he lets his guard down, she takes her chance. She breaks free, her rage, need for vengeance, and essential reason for being at this point drive her to beat him. The single line “Oh my dear, that’s your white half showing,” doesn’t just target her being mixed race, but also being a woman. Fowler doesn’t let up there though, he calls her eyes pretty. And not just because they’re blue, but because they’re of a woman’s. He brings up unwanted daughters and digs the knife deeper. And these last lines from Fowler represent everything that Mizu has been combating, everything that has been driving her. There’s so much to her character. The writing in this series shows how multiple compounding factors contribute to a person's drive. And in this instance, it shows how being a woman and half-white has lead to Mizu’s self-hatred and it’s beautiful in such a destructive way. 

[snowprincesa1]

{A fool of a brother}

//Fannon!Teenage!Daemon x Fannon!Teenage!F!Reader//

Daemon travels to the Vale to retrieve a particular lady Arryn. (Read part two here)

Daemon had heard of you, mostly from his elder brother the king Viserys who held a soft spot for you in his heart, being the only sister his wife Aemma had.

Quite honestly speaking Daemon was jealous. Jealous of how his brother would compare him to you at every mischievous stunt he pulled to gain his older brother’s attention. Daemon knew so much of you and your life through the letters you wrote to Aemma, the ones he would secretly steal. He heard of the tales of your beauty and simply shrugged them off, you didn’t have the light blonde or silver valyrian hair that your sister did but inherited your father’s hair that you would braid and throw over your shoulder.

You were a devout follower of the faith the back of your hair veiled with a translucent blue veil that showed the colour of your house. Daemon had accumulated so much information on you that it was driving him mad. He wanted to take caraxes to the vale and demand to see you and he probably would have if his brother didn’t need him by his side.

Daemon didn’t understand why everyone who met you seemed so captivated with you. You weren’t a dragon rider like Rhaenys, You weren’t a warrior like Visenya and you certainly weren’t Aegon.

When Aemma had given birth to a healthy baby girl, she grew frail from the childbirth and it was uncertain as to whether she would live after the intense labour she endured. Blood seeped down in the sheets. Viserys didn’t know what to do, Aemma pleaded to see you one last time every time she was on the brink of unconsciousness, he should have been smarter and summoned you to kings landing at the start of the pregnancy.

Aemma was in and out of unconsciousness her body drenched with cold sweat.

“What is happening brother?” Daemon asked standing at the door of the bedchamber not daring to enter.

Viserys opened up his eyes red from the constant rubbing and worrying.

“Lets go for a walk, keep the handmaidens with the Queen” he said moving out to the corridor waiting for Viserys to join him.

“What is it? Is Aemma not to live through this?” He asked his hand holding Viserys’ shoulder.

“I am not sure of it..the maesters..the maesters seem bloody useless” he sighed “she wants me to get her sister, the lady Arryn from the vale” he sighed rubbing his face once more. “There is no time, Daemon” he said

“Pity” he said. He didn’t plan on telling his brother he would retrieve you for him if that was what he wished Daemon truly loved his brother and would happily ride caraxes to bring over this mysterious lady Arryn he had oddly even dreamt meeting. Perhaps he had wanted to do this for himself instead. He dreamt of you to be a kind, quiet woman an innocent one over whom he could hold an advantage over.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He placed his dragon riding vest over his body. Approaching the red sleek dragon caraxes patting its snout and pressing his forehead to the dragon’s side calming it.

Caraxes had a shrilling cry that could very much deafen a person. It was a miracle Daemon’s hearing remained as is. He climbed onto caraxes swiftly pulling to the skies above. He would get you to comply with his wishes and get you to kingslanding and win his brother’s approval. How difficult could you be?

The journey took hours but caraxes felt the adrenaline running through Daemon and felt the same letting out shrill cries. Free in the skies away from kingslanding approaching the gloomy climate of the Vale, Daemon could see the Eyrie. You would be there. His curiosity to see you drove him mad. Caraxes circled the stronghold of the Arryn’s as Caraxes let out excited whistles waiting for Daemon to order him to unleash fire on the castle.

Daemon had other plans, fire was the last thing he wanted in this situation. His dragon resting on the bridge destroying a little of it as its weight pressed on the brick.

Elys Arryn the lord of the Vale walked out of the Eyrie wondering what the Targaryens could possibly want now.

“My prince, what brings you here with your mighty dragon?” He asked attempting to smile and seem friendly to the obviously large dragon and the rogue prince before him.

“No true Targaryen would pass on a chance to ride their dragon” he said caraxes standing anticipating his next command.

“I am here on order of the king” he said in a bored manner. Arryn men, he hated them.

“And what does he require ?” Lord Arryn asked impatiently clearly confused by the sudden appearance of a prince.

“That is for me and lady Arryn to discuss. You know, your half sister” he said smirking

“He has demanded for my sister?” The Arryn lord asked. He didn’t trust Daemon especially not with you.

“Yes he has, now bring the lady Arryn out. I wish to see her” Daemon said his fingers brushing the pommel of his sword Dark Sister. He would be ready to cut down any lord if he was denied. If the king was denied.

You walked out in the bridge of the eyrie. Making your way through the crowded lords. Everyone eying you, what business did the king have with you? Or was it the prince Daemon playing one of his pranks and attempting to sway another woman. It was known that Daemon was to be betrothed to a lady in the Vale, was it you? Prince Daemon disliked by the high folk of the vale. The words of your house being ‘as high as honour’. Daemon had no honour, no modesty and was indulgent in all he pleased. The rogue prince of the seven kingdoms known for deflowering young women.

You approached him, you wore a light blue gown the colour of your house. You were a proud Arryn. A year elder to your sister Aemma, you were NOT fond of king Viserys you hadn’t forgotten the anger you felt when the king had chosen your younger sister as his breeding livestock. The young girl having experienced miscarriages that had weakened the live in her. But viserys relented, he wanted a male heir. It should have been you, you were the older sister why was it you who should have been chosen not your little sister. You should have protected her. She was so young— the guilt ate you up from the inside. You were just a year older but yet you would happily sacrifice yourself in her stead. Viserys loved your sisters silver hair and that was the reason as to why she was chosen. You didn’t know whether to think your dark hair a boon or a bane.

A white veil over the back of your dark hair with a headband embroidered with beautiful pearls. The cuffs of your gowns had little designs of golden coloured birds. You were a sight to behold.

Daemon felt his mind go blank the moment he saw you. How could his brother have passed on you? Perhaps his brother regretted his impulsive choice.

“My lady, I have heard tales of your beauty but none of them do you any justice” daemon said truthfully, you stood with your back straight almost contemplating what to say.

“My prince, is it true that the king has requested for my presence?” You asked plainly. What does Viserys want now?

“It’s more of a command my lady” his eyes lingering on your body taking all of you in. “You look absolutely beautiful” he said complimenting you again. Unlike other women you didn’t blush nor grow embarrassed. Your mind filled with rage over the fact that viserys had the nerve to send for you like a dog.

“And why is it he commands for me?” You asked suspiciously

“The king does not require a reason but I shall tell you the truth the queen has given birth” he said waiting for you to ask him more questions

“And the babe is healthy?” You asked “is it a boy?”

“A healthy baby girl” daemon confirmed “they are thinking through names”

“That’s wonderful news” your sister’s pregnancies would not end with a daughter you knew, viserys would still long for a male heir as demanded by the council and his people. But you were happy that a babe survived the trials and was born healthy.

“The queen is weak, the queen wishes to see you in case she does not make it” daemon explained seeing his stubborn you would be if he kept you in the dark.

“And I suppose you’ve come to take me on dragon?” You asked.

“Smart one aren’t you?” He smirked looking at caraxes who screeched loudly. “You have never ridden a dragon have you?” He asked extending his hand for you to take. You looked to your half brother nodding and telling him you would be back sooner or later. As much as Elys would have liked to keep you safe in the eyrie he could not go against the king’s or queen’s orders.

“What a pity a Targaryen never experiencing what it is to be a dragon rider”

“Well you must remember that I am half Arryn because of my father’s blood” you said accepting his gloved hand.

“But yet you share the blood of the old king and the good queen just as I do” he said in a persuading almost seductive tone. His hand holding yours pressing it to caraxes scales so he would get comfortable with your presence. You patted the beast lightly. Daemon tutted holding your hand firmer onto the dragon’s scales. His hand was bigger than yours but still fit it perfectly. Daemon must have felt it as well.

“Can you climb my dragon or do you need assistance?” he asked mischievously as you stood beside him looking at his dragon Caraxes

you looked at the red beast before you. “yes I am quite capable of climbing, thankyou” you retorted. How the hell does one ride a dragon? Caraxes was smaller in size as compared to other dragons but yet you felt as though you were scaling a hill. Like hell you were going to ask Daemon for help. Your feet slipping off Caraxes. Suddenly you felt strong hands on your thighs pushing you up his hand squeezed the fat of your thigh slipping to brush against your ass as he climbed behind you setting you in the front of him. He had a smug smile on his face as he held you infront of him his hand wrapping around your waist. “You are taking quite the liberty in touching me”

“Vile accusations” he smirked his face close to yours to gorge your reaction. You quickly turned your face away at how close he was you could feel his breath on your lips and it was inappropriate, an unwed lady travelling in such close proximity to a man such as Daemon?

“But I would have to hold you like this when we take flight…unless you wish to fall off?” He said smirking his eyes boring into yours. “With your consent of course”

“Just take me to the Queen, my sister” you said cutting him off. You weren’t going to trust Daemon or his intentions. Caraxes lifted of off the bridge of eyrie as he swept the clouds with his wingspan.

Daemon’s mind was filled with ways to annoy you and get your attention “why are you unwed?” He asked pretending to be genuine but he just couldn’t hide the smirk.

“Why are you unwed?” You repeated the question directed to him.

“I’m sure you’ve heard I’m betrothed to the bronze bitch” he scowled thinking of the brown haired woman who donned armour of house Royce.

“Bronze bitch?” You asked you anger aroused so very quickly “you speak so crudely of a beautiful woman?”

“Beauty? A sheep would be more fuckable” he said chuckling at his own comment. Would it be okay to throw him off his own dragon? You thought.

“But sadly you lack a few things the lady Rhea does not” you returned his smirk.

“There is nothing desirable that I lack” he laughed

“Oh— but you do” your smirk growing “you lack character”

“Character is not required for a prince like me” he retorted his smirk faltering just slightly, the prince trying to not take offense to your insult

“Yes but you are a mere second prince, the spare” you said looking straight at the sun behind the misty clouds.

“A second prince of the seven kingdoms and the heir to the crown” heir? You looked to him

“I wasn’t aware you were named heir” you said feigning surprise.

“I wasn’t” daemon frowned “but sooner or later, the Queen cannot give my brother a son. You should treat me with more respect for if I become king..”

“You really think Viserys is going to name you his heir instead?” You laughed at his idiocy “he’s going to keep trying and trying until finally a boy is born from Aemma” your fingers tightening around the reins.

“Aemma has had years to provide viserys an heir if she cannot I suppose he’ll have to find another cunt to sink his cock in” he spoke in anger, you turned your face around looking at him bewildered by his statement. You were going to smack him across the face once you reached kings landing.

“What if I tell Viserys of this?” You said, he would obviously be extremely upset. He would probably banish daemon and hurry the wedding preparations for daemon’s marriage to Rhea. That would mean daemon would be in the Vale.

Daemon grabbed a hold of your face “if you do that I cannot promise you that I will not exact revenge” he said all sense of friendliness lost.

“What could a second son with no prospects do to me? You would do well to marry into the Royce family. Perhaps you should even take her name..” you chuckled. Daemon was seething with anger his hold over you grew tighter almost as though he was trying to hurt you.

“If I wasn’t knighted I would—” he started

“You have no honour you might as well do what you must.” You said. You heard him cuss you out in soft mutters trying to control his anger. The ride back was too long. Daemon no longer wished to talk to you. Amidst the silence he suddenly said

“Lots of words from you, Queen who could have been” he smirked. He didn’t know you had no attraction or desire to the iron throne unlike himself.

“Lots of words from you, Daemon Royce” you retorted quickly. Daemon rested his head on your shoulder as you put your hand on his face to push him off but he relented stubbornly placing his chin deep in the crevice of your shoulder bone. “Call me Daemon Royce and I promise you. I will make you wish you never met me” he said trying to make you believe he that his threats were very real.

“I cannot believe we both are of same age” you grumbled “you are so immature it is no wonder God made you the second born” you said annoying hun even further. He threw some more insults at you which you threw insults back. The entire journey was a pain in the ass, the two of you yelling at each other at the top of your lungs. By the time you both had reached kingslanding you were sure you had lost your voice. Daemon’s voice and turned gruff and quiet as well. You attempted to climb off his dragon carefully to which he pushed you off when you were a few feet from the ground.

“You little sh—” you said getting back on your feet praying that no one saw the embarrassing fall and whelp you let out. Your legs had gone numb from the dragon ride but you wouldn’t spend another minute in the annoying prince’s presence. You truly felt for Rhea Royce. You walked out of the dragon pit ignoring everyone in your annoyance. You came for your sister. No one else. Daemon was quick to follow your lead

“Quite impolite as well not only to a prince like me but others as well” he noted “you didn’t wish any lord or lady on your way. Do you even know where you are heading?” He asked pulling the back of your dress to bring you to him your back hitting his chest with a thump sound.

“What in the seven hells are you doing now?” You asked your eyes squinting with irritation.

“Winning my brother’s favour, I brought you here. You see he gave me no order I did this out of my own goodwill. That makes me a good man” why the hell was he trying to convince you he was a good person?

“So the king gave no order— you abducted me!” You yelled punching him in the arm. Hard.

“And now you attacked a prince! Are we equal now?” He said rubbing the spot with his hand.

You ended up ignoring him or you knew you would end up spitting more insults at him. But well, now your anger for the Targaryens is split amongst the two brothers now. Daemon led you to to the room Aemma lay in. And you rushed in attempting to shut the door on his face. His strength overpowering you throwing open the door.

King Viserys looked up at the two of you from where he knelt next to his wife Aemma who was unconscious. Daemon shuffled his feet almost nervously before saying “I’ve brought her for you” King Viserys looked in disbelief between his brother and you. He got up from his bed giving his younger brother a silent hug which spoke a thousand thankyous. You sat on the bed next to Aemma trying to wake your sister gently “Aemma” you called her eyes flickering open before shutting them due to the brigtness of the room. The contrast between the darkness of her sleep and the sunlight spaying on your face and hair.

“Sister? Am I dreaming, Viserys?” she asked weakly.

Your eyes filled with tears at the sight of her so vulnerable. How much you had missed her. You didn’t know whether to hug her weak self so you placed a soft kiss on her forehead. “I’m here Aem” you said brushing her sweaty clumps of hair with your fingers. Aemma seats herself on the bed to get a better look at you “you look just like father” she smiled “and you an Angel Aem” you smiled weakly trying and failing to hold back your tears. “I did it..I gave birth to a healthy babe. A girl” she said “not what the realm wished for but I am happy nonetheless” she said gently her eyes tearing up at the disappointment Viserys must have felt.

“Fuck the realm” you blurted in the presence on the King, the prince, and the the Queen, your sister “I am proud of you, mother would be proud of you. You did so well” you said pulling her to you as you stroked her silver hair.

“Have you seen the babe?” She asked “No I have not” you responded “You see, I was abducted and brought here by the prince Daemon” you jested trying to lighten your mood. Aemma sent a polite smile to daemon “I hope she didn’t cause you any problems” Aemma laughed asking Daemon. “Oh she did, but that’s a conversation for another time” he smirked. You couldn’t help but chuckle at your sisters remark maybe even Daemon’s.

A handmaiden brought in the baby to Aemma and she gently handed you the tiny babe wrapped in the softest of cloths. Viserys sat beside Aemma kissing the top of her hair. Daemon again stood at the door almost ready to leave. But then he looked at your face in that sunlight. Holding the tiny babe with silver hair in your arms. He saw the way you smiled looking at your sister proudly and then you looked at him and your smile didn’t vanish. It stayed as you held the baby in your arms. “Have you seen her? Have you seen our niece?” You asked Daemon. Your long argument almost instantly forgotten when you had your niece in your arms. This was your family as well, Daemon was your family as well. You didn’t want him to leave for some reason.

Daemon cautiously took a few steps further and then a few more standing a few feet away from the bed looking at the babe. “For heaven’s sake— she won’t bite you. Come closer” you barked. “She won’t, but you look like you would” he said ignoring Viserys’ glare. Aemma couldn’t help but laugh at your bluntness. Daemon scoffed standing right over you and the babe now.

“she looks like you brother” Daemon said and you quickly countered “No, she looks like my sister.”

Before the two of you knew it the both of you were arguing once again once again, and from behind both Aemma and viserys sent each other knowing looks.

Though you weren’t what Daemon had expected you to be he wasn’t disappointed in the least, in his heart he still believed his brother was a fool for passing on you.

[prettyflyforawhitelie]

Hazbin Hotel Beach! Headcanons

Characters: Charlie, Vaggie, Alastor, Angel, Husk, Sir Pentious, Nifty, Lucifer, Adam, Cherri

A/N: Hey guys! I am just so ready for summer to come so I can relax on the beach… so i thought it would be fun to do some beach headcanons for our favorite sinners!

😈🗝️Charlie🗝️😈:

Definitely the one that organized this entire beach day.

Though this is supposed to encourage relaxation, she is sort of stressed making sure that everyone gets along. 

Very adamant that everyone wears their sunscreen.

Drags Vaggie into the water to play around and try to find fish.

Makes sure everything is as perfect as it can get. Snacks? Check. Tons of water and drinks? Check. Umbrellas and tents? Check. Speakers? You bet!

Once she tires herself out, she takes a very well-deserved nap in the sand.

🪽⚔️Vaggie⚔️🪽:

Spend the trip making sure that Charlie finally gets a day to relax and not worry so much.

The second anyone tries to splash her or throw sand at her, a full blown beach battle ensues.

Will definitely be the one to dig holes in the sand and see how deep she can make it.

Was planning on relaxing and sunbathing, but gave in to Charlie's begging to go swimming (and actually enjoyed it a lot).

The second Charlie takes a nap, Vaggie will guard her to make sure that nobody disturbs her needed sleep. 

Makes sure to put more sunscreen on Charlie while she’s asleep so she won’t get burned.

🦌📻Alastor📻🦌:

This man is allergic to the sun.

Like, he’s covered from head to toe in sunscreen, wearing far too much clothing given the fact that he’s at the beach, and hides in a beach tent for the entirety of the day. 

Angel thought it would be funny to toss some sand into his tent until Alastor sent one of his shadows after him and he ran away screaming.

Like… Why did he agree to come??

He does enjoy listening to some of the music that Charlie plays until he realizes that it’s coming from a phone and not a radio (Al, who the fuck brings a radio to the beach?).

The only person that he lets come into his tent is Niffty, because she just over exhausts herself and takes a nap in the shade.

🕷️💖Angel Dust💖🕷️:

Definitely the life of the party.

Is wearing the most stylish bikini and the cuntiest sunglasses, just a total beach diva.

Though Charlie insisted that the only drinks allowed were water and soda, Angel manages to sneak a couple bottles of Beelzejuice so he and Husk can actually have some fun.  

Builds sand castles with Cherri Bomb, gets extremely upset if somebody messes it up.

Absolutely demolishes the competition in a game of beach volleyball (Having 6 arms comes in handy). 

Also wins any sort of swimming contest that Vaggie challenges him to (Again, 6 arms really gives you an advantage).

Definitely sees some cute guys and fake-flirts with them to get Husk’s attention.

♥️🥃Husk🥃♥️:

He’s a cat demon for a reason, any time Angel tries to drag him into the water, the hairs on his back rise and he hisses in disdain. 

The group eventually gives up on trying to get him to swim, letting him relax in the sand instead.

Drinks almost all of Angel's alcohol stash and passes out in the sand, curled into a purring ball, wings protecting him from being burned.

Angel takes a picture of him like this, and when he later finds it in Angel’s room he threatens to kill him if he doesn't immediately get rid of it (secretly thinks it's sweet that angel cares enough to hang a photo of him in his room.)

After much begging, he agrees to play beach volleyball with Angel, Cherri, and Vaggie. He absolutely sucks and gets pissed if anybody makes fun of him for it (except for Angel. He’ll allow it).

Ends up carrying most of the heavy stuff after they decide to leave.

🐍⚙️Sir Pentious⚙️🐍:

Decides to bring his Egg Bois, but ends up worried that they’ll literally cook the whole time so he makes a little hole for them in the sand to cool off. 

“Uhh.. Miss Cherri, would you like to build a sandcastle with me?” “Why? I thought we were mortal enemies, old man!” “Uh.. ummm… because I’m asking EVERYONE to build a sandcastle with me…!”

Hangs out in the water the whole time because it’s much easier to maneuver in water than on sand as a snake. 

Built a machine specifically made to drill holes underground, somehow ends up making an entire tunnel system under the sand. This eventually leads to Vaggie walking on a particularly weak spot on the sand and literally falling into the caved-in tunnel. She was pissed off, to say the least, and banned the use of any “inventions” for the rest of the day.

Really wants to impress Cherri and join in on her volleyball game, but is way too shy. He’ll just cheer her on and admire her from the sidelines.

Loves napping in the sun -  being at the beach is like laying under one big heat lamp, so his cold-blooded self delights in it.

🪳🪡Niffty🪡🪳:

Because there are no bugs for her to kill, she will literally hunt hermit crabs for sport. It’s actually horrifying. 

Sir Pentious soon regrets building the whole tunnel system thing because Niffty starts crawling around in it and jumpscaring people at random. 

Somebody has to have their eye on her the entire time, or she will disappear without a trace and just - become one with the crabs?

Eventually tires herself out and takes a nap in Alastor’s tent (Much to everyone’s relief).

Definitely brings up the idea of going out to get a treat after, like ice cream or snow cones, which surprisingly everyone agrees with. 

Ends up sneaking a few small animals back with her to the hotel.

🍒💣Cherri Bomb💣🍒:

Thought it was lame when Charlie insisted on a “sin-free” trip, but had a little hope when Angel told her about the drinks he snuck in. Got extra pissed when she found Husk passed out with all of the bottles empty.

Was the one who initiated all of the athletic games, she just needs an outlet to blow some steam off.

When she’s not playing in the sun, she lays on her towel and makes designs on herself using sunscreen so she can have some cute marks after she’s done tanning. 

Thought it was adorable that Sir Pentious set up his towel and things suspiciously close to her because it was “the only spot where the sun coated him evenly” (Like what? Dude could not be more obvious.)

Brought a surfboard because she used to love surfing before she died and tries to teach anybody who’s willing to learn. 

Sets off one of her bombs underwater to create the biggest wave anybody’s ever seen (it ends up soaking everybody else, and she has to make it up to them by covering the ice cream bill later).

🐣👹Lucifer👹🐣:

Only came because Charlie insisted that it would be a good father-daughter bonding experience.

Kind of puts everyone on their toes - can they even have fun with the king of Hell watching their every move? (This helps Charlie prolong her nap - nobody wants to joke around or mess with her in front of her dad).

Tensions are high until he joins the volleyball game and shows everyone that yes, the king of Hell can be fun too.

Everyone relaxes after this, but they relax more when Lucifer shyly gives each of them a rubber duck that looks just like them. When Charlie asked him about this, he replied “I guess if they’re your friends, they should be my friends too.”

Has a huge rubber duck inflatable pool float that he brings to float around on.

Claims that he doesn’t like going to the beach, but the matching swim trunks and Hawaiian shirt that he just happened to have in his closet says differently.

🎸👼Adam👼🎸:

Has the original dad bod and will 100% flaunt it and talk about how sexy he is (nobody is listening.)

Wasn’t actually even invited, but he ended up seeing the rest of them there and hoped that he could make them miserable if he hung out just close enough to them.

Steals Cherri’s surfboard and brags about how he’s about to demolish the waves, but absolutely eats shit and will never hear the end of it.

Doesn’t realize Lucifer is there until he sees him glaring at him from a nearby tent and gets scared shitless.

Will deny it if anybody asks, but he’s secretly looking for the perfect seashell to bring back to Heaven and surprise Lute with. 

Everyone genuinely celebrates when he gets bored and finally decides to leave (cue that one duck meme “ADAM!”) 💀

[iwaasfairy]

┌─ “ „ FIXED

tw. cest, bit of degradation but mainly praise, spit, oral fixation, oral, choking, its kinda soft pffff so tw feelings, corruption, hajime gets off on the guilt wordcount. 4.2k

a/n.  who's surprised about more cest? exactly no one ♡♡♡ but i missed hajime nii, besides i haven't written nearly enough full length big bro iwa fics FIXED /fikst/ 1. predetermined and not subject to or able to be changed. (adj.) 2. mend or repair. (verb)

iwaizumi hajime x fem!reader

You never really knew that much about boys growing up. That’s just how it went. Hajime started playing volleyball before you were old enough to remember different. Your life was constructed around it. Every practice for him meant no free babysit for your parents, so you were dragged with mom to dance class with other moms. And they brought their equally clueless baby girls, which led to you enrolling in girls related things with girls who related.

You wouldn’t have known about boy’s things, apart from the small circle of cultivated friends Hajime allowed into his space, and yours. It wasn’t on purpose, but the outcome was still the same.

Any and all information you had about boys came straight from Hajime’s mouth, who was older. Compared to clueless you; niichan held the wisdom of a sage. You always clung to his every word, even as he grew bigger. Even as he grew more snappy, sick of dealing with his friends who were stupid boys and did stupid high school boy things. Everything you didn’t know went through niichan. Not ever the other boy spending too much time in your house, because Oikawa was a liar, and niichan would make sure you remembered it.

But you knew certain things too when you saw them, and what small amount you did know— was now rearing it’s ugly head and asking questions.

“Wh—what’s this? What are you watching?” As you shuffle out of the hall with a frown, you hold niichan’s phone away from your body with loose fingertips. Boys might not have cooties anymore in your mind, but everyone talks about how gross boys are. You don’t want to risk it. And Hajime freezes in place like he’s guilty, wide-eyed. It’s brand new. Unusual. Like hitting bullseye on the first throw, tickling your brain from within.

See, Hajime was always bigger than most in your town, athletically built, and prone to using that build full of energy and power to his advantage. That to say, he was always quicker than most to squish you into silence or grab you by the collar instead of using his words when it came to accusations. Your parents weren't around much to scold him for it. It’s what his popular best friend loved to call ‘anger issues’, wait for it to blow up.

And silent, thinly veiled panic isn’t — that.

“Why the hell are you on my phone?” Hajime’s face blanks as he puts down the remote, glances over his shoulder for supervision, and puts on his meanest glare as he scrambles up from the couch. He’d been left on little sister duty all afternoon, and now, you’d gone and made a critical error. Your friends joke about no-goes, but you never really got why ‘messing around on a boy’s phone’ was an issue.

Hajime nii clearly doesn’t agree. His biceps bulge as he crosses his arms over his chest with mouth set in a thin line, and you shuffle in place within arms’ reach of him.

“I’m not on your phone, I just found it like this on your bed.” It’s the truth, you hadn’t meant to find anything. Intent doesn’t matter to your big brother though, because he towers you as he does. It’s the best way you can describe the way he glares you down ice cold, close enough to make your skin break out in goosebumps, waiting for retaliation. If you were any of his guy friends, you’re sure they’d get a solid kick to the shin. The little sister treatment is more mean mugging you until you fidget. “I wasn’t even snooping, I just needed to get a charger,” you tack on, swinging your arms behind your back.

“Give it.”

“No,” you quip back, for no particular reason other than to win the back and forth that always starts like this.

“Give me my phone, before I choose to take it.” His hand sticks out, bigger than yours, and you lean back a little. Usually it’s just empty threats. But sometimes you pick the wrong day to argue back, until you end screaming like a banshee under him like it’s life or death. Niichan’s still young enough where it makes him feel strong not to hold back.

The second ‘no’ sticks in your throat as he leans into your space more, and you can basically taste the natural instinct to roll over before he gets there. But you can’t help yourself. You want answers. You don’t deliver the device as quickly as he wants you to. A single eyebrow raises -an I dare you- deciding whether or not to smack you over the head for your transgression.

And you should know better, but the younger sibling in you aches. You suck your bottom lip. “Why are you watching this?” you grimace as you look at the phone again, unlocking it to reveal the video of a naked girl suckling on what the deadly annoying, high-pitched whine of ‘step brother’ loud through the little phone speaker says is her brother’s… parts. It doesn’t look like anything you’ve ever seen, from the few seconds you watched. But niichan always gets into the bath before you, and you don’t peek. Ever. But judging by the groaning and moaning from the guy, it must be-

Hajime goes bright red in his face as he yanks the phone out of your hands. “Don’t play it, are you fucking stupid?” Your father is still just as busy in his office as he’s been all day, but the way he panics to turn it off would almost make you think differently.

“It’s porn, isn’t it? You’re watching porn.” You’ve heard your friends talk about porn enough to know what it is. You just don’t know why he’s watching it. “Why?”

After clicking out of the tab, your big brother makes a face that’s equal parts fed up, and embarrassed, but he doesn’t give you any of the answers you’re looking for. “Shittykawa sent me that, ’s nothing. Just- fuck, don’t touch my shit again. Or I’ll knock the sense into you, y’hear?”

“But why watch it?”

“You’re dumber than you look if you think I’ll talk to you about-” The last word isn’t even spoken, but it feels like it’s heard just as loud. Your brother watches porn. There’s a pit in your stomach. Because your brother isn’t a liar, but he also isn’t a gossip. And he doesn’t offer up important information until you ask, which always ends with you feeling left out. Late. The overly girly pout of the woman moaning rings in your mind over and over. You’ve never done that stuff to your brother. Instead of helping you out, he hoards info. It makes the hairs on your neck stand up, and you don’t know why.

When he goes to brush past you, you wrap your arms around his waist and cling to him, face to stomach as he tries to walk away. “I’m not done,” you drag out the word, “niichan, stahp-uh. St-aw-aww! You’re hurting me!” You’re really to blame for the way you struggle to hold him in place, and he isn’t one to just fold without a fight. “Niisan~ tell me why! Come on, don’t be annoying. Ughh— don- you’re annoying!” Hajime nii doesn’t just give in. You know that as well as he does.

“Get off!!” His hand is big and warm as it wraps around your neck and he shoves his thigh between your legs, lifted off the floor. You cling on, squeezing hard as he huffs and you use your whole body to try and keep him in place. “Let go of me, brat, fuckin’-uhg- you’re—” You manage to fall back halfway into the couch with Hajime’s weight on top of you in the struggle and bite it, butt landing hard on the floor as he knees you in the shoulder and protects your face just in time. “Idiot, you wanna break your nose over this shit?”

“Why are you looking at that stuff, tell me!” you demand again, through welling up tears this time. “I want to know, or else- Else I’ll ask Oikawa.” He moves just enough to cradle your face and watch you for a second, then blows out a deep breath.

“No, you don’t.” His eyes zero in on yours, and his eyebrows flatten out a little. “You’ve made your point, just stop making a scene.” After running a hand through his spiky tufts of hair, he clicks his tongue. “If I tell you, will you shut up about it?”

Your head bobs up and down quickly, always ready to indulge your brother. “Of course! Promise.” Your voice is extra sweet when you say it.

In turn, Hajime sits back down to make some room for your shoulder as you sink down against the furniture, and look up at him. “Get up from the floor, c’mon-”

“Hajime nii~,” you bristle, crossing your arms over your chest, “just say it.”

You can basically see him think about rolling his eyes, but he fights the urge to instead let out a noncommittal huff, and pats his thigh. “Suit yourself.” You swallow down a sniffle, and rest your head onto the couch. And your niichan’s eyes flick to you again, hesitating. “What d’you want me to- I- If you wanna know why I watched it, it’s- because it feels good. I like it.” Your face must give away your confusion, because he glances over his shoulder again before patting your head and running his fingers through your hair in nerves. “And it is easier for guys to… come if we watch stuff.”

“Like it?” Your lashes tickle against the fabric as you look up at him, not yet satisfied. He’s not getting away with a measly little explanation like that. “But what was the girl doing?” Niichan’s chest rumbles softly with the deep breath he takes, pulling his fingers down to squeeze the bridge of your nose instead, like it’ll shut you up. But it doesn’t, only makes you whine and push at the hand. When he speaks again, his voice is very soft, almost too much so. It makes you giddy. It warms your blood. You love when Hajime nii tells you secrets, or things you’re not supposed to know.

The low mumble reaches. “Sucking his dick.”

Sucking it. You pop your lips, and watch as he starts bouncing his leg next to your head. But the lady in the video wasn’t just sucking. You’re not sure how to word it, so just pout for a moment. It’s not like you mean to push it too far. Evidently, you do though. “Can I do that to you, niichan?”

It nails the coffin closed, because he suddenly stands up and narrows his eyes, as heat comes up all the way to his ears. “Oh my god, don’t make it sound fucked up. I’m—”

"What, what, what?" you pout, and cling to him.

"Shut. Your. Trap. Dad's gonna hear." He takes your cheeks between his index finger and thumb, and makes you really look into his eyes. “Don’t ask anyone else that. Ever, okay? I’m not- talking about this with you right now.”

+

The conversation sated you back then, it seems. Because it doesn’t come up again until you’ve totally forgotten about it, much, much later. Late enough for you to be awoken from your sleep with an involuntary yawn. Hajime’s apartment is still pitch black, but you’re not unaware of the shape next to you as it slips into the covers with careful motions. Your chest rises and falls shallowly, before you nose pushes into his chest and he settles. “Sorry.”

“M’n -rom d’airport, miss you,” you slur, and also curl up further into Hajime’s heat, who doesn’t bother to try and understand you. You’re not even sure yourself. Only that you don’t want him to move, and that the gentle soothing motion of his heavy hand on your hip is nice. “Hm?”

“You’re taking up my side,” his voice rattles your skull with how deep and low it feels this close to your brain.

“‘M not leaving, you’re warm. Wanna stay here. Forever.” It’s enough to have him give in, slide an arm under your side and drape you up a little higher onto his pillow to really slide in nice and close next to you. Chest to chest, and your face to his collar. It isn’t the first time you’ve cuddled, or felt his thighs force some room between your legs to slide one of his between.

But it’s weird. You can still feel his eyes on your face, magnetic in the twilight. They trail paths all over, suffocatingly so. When you open your eyes as much as the call of sleep will allow, your lashes almost brush his nose, and it tickles, and your big brother’s breath dusts over your cheeks. “Wanna get more sleep before I have to go back home.” You justify, but Hajime doesn’t nod, doesn’t disagree either. He just looks, too close to your face. Your sleepiness doesn’t matter so much when your heart patters against your ribs. It’s just - like ice sliding down your spine, you can feel how your stomach turns inside you, and how hot the air feels. Why is it weird?

You’re older now. You know better now. There’s a whisper, a soft “niichan,” anything to break the tension. It is breathier than you mean it to come out. You just want to know if he feels nauseous too, sensing the same feeling of hell pressing down on your chest as the room seems to come closer. He seems to come closer too. He’s always so bright, so present in your mind. Whether you’re halfway across the world or kept

in his arms. And then pillowy lips connect with yours, nose brushing along your matching one, and your lips are pushed open by a wet, warm tongue. A hot flash travels down your throat as you try not to skitter away at the feeling. It takes a few seconds for your brain to catch up. Why is it different? Why? Why’s your belly burning with a strange sort of pressure? Tonight’s the last night you’ll be spending in Hajime’s apartment for a while, maybe.

His tongue slides into your mouth and tangles with yours, tasting of watermelon and mint mouthwash, and his heart beats slower against your chest. He’s just so close, and you feel like you’re drifting off into dreamland with how warm you feel melting into him. “M-nii -chan,” your voice comes, and a hand grabs your cheek to pull your face closer to his. You’re instantly reminded… of that high pitched moan of that girl on that video.

“Shh, ‘s okay. I’ve got you,” he noses along your jaw, before pressing a lingering kiss right in the middle of your bobbing throat. You don’t expect him to sit up. You don’t expect him to slide his arm under your knees and move you sideways, and to come back to your face for more warm, sloppy, wrong kisses. “I love you. I love you.” This is… wrong, isn’t it? It’s incest, and wrong. The word that haunted you ever since you learned it’s meaning. He groans your name in the quiet, and you automatically reply with a soft moan. Can’t help it. The kissing turns into deeper, needier, panting and spit on your bottom lip before he slides the calloused tips of his fingers over the exposed sliver of your tummy and up.

Hooking your flimsy cotton onto his fingers and pulling at it until he reaches the swell of your tits, but not revealing anything yet. You shake, and your legs spread apart. There’s a pressure on your bladder, on the lowest part of your belly, where heat collects itself and drips out of you into your panties— and it should be more embarrassing than it is. But your pout is kissed by your devoted, all-knowing big brother, and you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer.

“Let me- wanna show you somethin’ now.” His breathing against you feels like heaven, sweetening your blood until you can barely think straight over the smacking mouths and dripping of spit and your cunt and the swirling fire in your loins. “You’re so fucking- pretty.” His chest rubs against your tits, and his fingers pinch the skin where your breasts blush with heat, squeezing with a low rumble of his voice. He wants to say something, but doesn’t get the words out, clearly, as he shuts himself up in your lips, then your throat, down to your tits. Your pussy’s glowing, and your mind foggy- something you can’t pinpoint to either sleep or the moment, and is most likely both combined.

Hajime nii’s boxers are barely clinging onto his thighs with the way it’s tented around his cock when he pulls back, taking a long look just like you are. He’s hot, physically burning under your eyes. But also… filled out so much. He was always broad, but now it’s just distracting. Carved from marble and dusted with gold. It’s childish, petulant even, how you take in the sight and moan with your hands pawing at his shirt, but so fucking true. You’re overcome with it, with love for him.

And niichan seems similarly affected as you are, because there’s a furrow between his brows that only relaxes when he stares at your blushy, spit-covered lips, your heaving chest, the sticky patch of your panties as you’re laid spread on his bed.

His hand comes to yours, letting you wrap your fingers around his, but he doesn’t move beyond that. Only breathes deeply, and stares at the way you tangle your fingers between his. “Niichan, please,” you whine, pulling, tugging, demanding him into motion until he places his free hand onto his chubbed cock and squeezes himself through the fabric. The wet patch of his gray boxers clings uncomfortably to his cockhead, and you suck your lip between your teeth. “Show me, niichan. I wa- wan’ you to, please.”

You’re the one sitting up first, grabbing a handful of your own tits to whimper as his fist stays screwed around his cock— and have to lean yourself all the way down to nose at the inside of his thigh before he finally moves again. “Oh- fuck.” His hips jerk as he rubs himself against your cheek once, and when you moan, again. Large hands and long fingers splay out over your head to keep you in place as gently as he can manage as you let your spit-slick tongue rub against him as he fucks into the air and you chase. You only manage a little glance up between your lashes at his heavy petting and desperate few pumps against the softness of your mouth, but it’s plenty.

Plenty to see the blown out pupils and bead of sweat rolling down his neck, his ears and cheeks a dusty pink. Your big brother groans when you brush your thumb over the sticky patch of the fabric and wrap a ring of fingers around him, forcing the covered head to pop into your soft mouth with a loud kissy noise. “I- Fucking hell, get o- oh,” he doesn’t let you stay latched on, tangling his fingers in your hair and holding you away as he shudders, “you wan’it? That makes you feel good, does it?” The pull of your hair feels good though, pussy clenching around nothing again.

“Mhm, being under my big brudder makes me feel good.” You can’t keep yourself from nuzzling into his hand when he releases you to get up onto his knees, and watch as he shoves the boxers down his thick thighs with slower motions than you wish he’d use. It’s a little unfair. Even in the low light, you can see the glossiness of his cockhead, the little trail of hair leading you all the way down to right between muscular legs- and your nails drag down the skin with a needy whine until he rests the heavy tip back onto your lips. Onto your squirming, little tongue.

Hajime’s breathing comes to a halt as you lick up the slit and glance up at him, and move your hand to reach under his cock too. “Mh-niichan? You wanted this, right? for how long?”

His eyes go half lidded as he hums. “Long.”

Another long lick sliding down, your spit coats the bottom of his twitching cock until you’re happily nestled at the base and press kisses down. “Is that why you only watch sister porn?”

He groans your name with a tight grunt, and you can see the way his chest caves. You guess it doesn’t really matter. Worse sins have been committed just tonight than your big brother fondling you in his bed, and pressing you down on his lap. But the way it flushes his neck and makes his eyes narrow is so satisfying, you almost don’t know what to do with yourself when he pushes you away from him to roll you onto your back, long fingers finding your neck. The press scares you for a split second, before the pressure makes way for entirely too much pleasure. “Still a fucking brat.” His olive irises flash as he watches you drop open your mouth again, and pull at his shirt with a moan.

“Take this off~ niichan, please. Please.” His shirt is discarded somewhere next to the bed, before he allows you to place your lips back to the thumping, blood-filled head of his cock and wrap them around it. It feels good, really good— and he tastes like Hajime, slowly starting to rock onto your tongue as his hand tightens in your hair.

“Wan- uhuh, fuck, I want to cum down your throat so bad. Use-m- my little sister’s mouth.” He’s heavy, and thick, and spit gets everywhere as you do your very best to hollow your cheeks around his hard cock each time he pushes a little farther in. But of course you gag when he pushes past your tongue into your tight throat, and grunts out your name. He pulls back to let you take a breath but fucks right back into you, now rocking his hips harder and deeper. You gag, and Hajime hums. “Tch, messy little sister. Good, tho- feels so good-” Your fingers squeeze around the part where you can’t quite reach, other hand on his balls, while spit goes everywhere.

“Fuck, I’m fucking my sister’s mouth, this is- so fucked.” You suck harder, and Hajime’s cock twitches in your mouth. “Uh- love— you, uhuh, that’s a good girl.” Your lips are stretched wide, and your throat burns around the intrusion, but the feeling just makes you so lightheaded. Floating off from the world as he cups your face with two hands and jackhammers into your mouth until you can’t tell up from down. Your muffled, sloppy ‘niichan, niichan’ only makes his shoulders raise higher, abs flexed each time he makes you bottom out around him, each time tears run down your face. Even when you gag and push back against him. “You love your big brother too, right?”

“Mhm,” you’re choking on it and enjoying it, breath flooding your lungs each time he pulls back far enough to let you— before you have to grab his thigh and open your teary eyes to glance up at him. “Niichan, Hajime nii, p-please. Want your cock, i-inside, want to be my big brother’s cockslut, plea~se.”

He hauls you up from him by your shoulders, rolls you onto your back as he stares into your eyes. Pupils blown wide, with the pretty sliver of green, he bites his lip so hard it must hurt. “Why— you keep saying shit like that, thinking I’m not going to react? Stop poking.” His long fingers glide from your shoulder up to your neck again, and squeeze just enough to have you seeing little stars that vanish when you look at them. It feels good. Hajime feels so good. With the light of the moon dusting along his edges, you slowly spread your legs on both sides of his body, and blink.

“Mean it. Mn-gh, nii~chan. Want your cock to fill me up, I wan’it so bad. Want you.” He looks rabid as he dips down to shove a thumb between your lips for you to suck, lingering in that heady feeling. More. You moan it around his finger as he pushes on your tongue, but he’s already distracted with the way you’re peeling your own panties down your legs, and how the stings of slick stretch from the fabric all the way to your gushing cunt. “Pl-uh-ese, nii-dan.” Your lewd sucking of his finger and the way you pull your lower legs around his glutes seems to be too much for him.

“Love ya, Hajime niichan.”

You feel his lips crash to yours before his cock is shoved into you, but it’s the latter that instantly has your arms wrap around his muscular back to cling on. Because he’s thick, heavy, and burning hot inside you. Wetness clicks and squelches as he slides all the way in and swallows up your moan. He pulls out, and slams back in hard enough to make your legs jerk. You feel him in your belly. You feel him in your throat. You feel him in your soul too, as he sucks your tongue and cups your cheek and palms your tits all at once. As he pulls out and hits a spot inside you you didn’t even know about, and fucks you so good it makes your toes curl.

“‘S our secret, okay?” he pants when he pulls back, lifting your legs to your chest. And you’re already nodding your head up and down before he has to ask more, letting out the shakiest whimper.

Your voice is extra sweet when you hum. “Of course. Promise~.”

All Rights Reserved © IWAASFAIRY 2022. Works are exclusive to this Tumblr.

[biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer]

Geo cult hear me out-

geo vs sol

How would that go down? Especially since sol is best friends with hyugo. Geo dislikes hyugo while hyugo cares about geo (at least from what we know). Sol is strong physically but geo has body guards and was stated to be good with weapons especially archery.

The outcome may change depending on MC, who their preference is (geo ofc ❤️)- and which route mc takes. but if MC was unsure or didn't care then what lengths would they go to?

Geos advantages

same friend group; close with crowe (how close is unsure but the fact that they are friends says alot). Crowe is close w/ us and has our trust, crowe could get MC to like geo. idk how this could be used as I doubt geo would ask crowe to do this, but what if crowe notices and does it out of kindness for Geo? Not just crowe, but deryl talks good about geo too.

rich; has connections (to the citys founder) & body guards (who are armed with katanas)

popular

Good with weapons, relatively strong. Extremely close with deryl (who's the strongest physically in the whole cast). I dont doubt that deryl would be willing to throw hands for geo if worst comes to worst.

Probably more mentally stable than sol

Could probably expose sol for stalking us or something

Being with him literally guarantees a stable life, hes rich and mc and him would not only be happy together but financialy stable!! A fairy tail 😇

Geos disadvantages

Clearly emotionally constipated, would probably SUCK at being affectionate.

Intimidating, he death glares us and tells us to leave when we ask a question.

Doesn't take action. hes the type to wait for a confession. depending on the type of person mc is, would cause problems.

He seems hostile, not only to strangers but to his friends (clearly in a more affectionate way).this would scare away a timid mc, or even IF mc was outgoing, i feel like geos hostile attitude would just drive mc away sooner or later.

Sols advantages

Hyugo, from our interactions with hyugo he is clearly sols wingman and is trying to get us together

Takes action, unlike geo he asked us for our number (depending on the route). And he is clearly more likely to take romantic advances

Affectionate, hes cheeky / kind with us from the get go, and even after knowing him for only 2 days mc trusts him alot due to how kind he is. Things would progress much more faster.

Protected us in day 2 (depends which route), mc owes him alot, not only that but mc got to see how much sol cares for them, "this man was crying for you". Unlike geo sol would cry and is more willing to be emotional

Strong physically, his skill with weapons are unknown, but if it were just a pure fist fight then sol would win

Probably better at communicating feelings

Sols disadvantages

Mentally unstable and a stalker, being more realistic, this would scare off mc and have a restraining order

Lacks emotion for those other than mc (and hyugo?). If mc had close friends he would be seething of jealousy, and apathetic towards them and again would push mc away because of his possessiveness.

While both sol and geo are jealous, geo doesn't get jealous often, its just that when he does he gets REALLY jealous, and adding the fact that geo isnt as crazy and sol, he would be more reasonable in his jealousy, like he wouldn't get pissy because we are hanging out with our friends like sol does in day 2 ending. Geo likely understands we each need alone time and time with friends and family.

(im not sure about family, as in one of fantasias asks its stated somthing along the lines of "he was to claim a spot in your family)

has crazy rumors surrounding him, its not clear ingame what these details contain, but knowing sol they are probably somewhat true

SORRY FOR RAMBLING!! I didn't proofread so it might be messy... (ﾟ▽ﾟ*)

Hmm, the Geo cult have taken your query into admission, and you shall not be trialed for heresy...yet. (don't worry, you're all good, fellow cultist enjoyer.) ₊˚⊹ ᰔ (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

Anyway, I assume this is going to involve me pitting Geode and Sol against each other, so...enjoy. <33

- Signed by @biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer

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

I'll be honest, for this fight to even happen we need these two in the same place at the same time.

Which will be difficult...unless we utilise our magnificent MC powers to get them to do whatever we want.

Taking all your points into account (which are excellent, good job btw), I genuinely think Geo will win.

Is it because I am devoted to him? (Yes /hj). Perhaps, but let me explain.

Geo has 4 friends (5 if we include you), one of whom being stronger than Sol (Deryl), and I see Deryl as a cute little retriever that'll go rabid if someone attacks who it loves/cares about.

Deryl won't let Sol get remotely near Geo.

Same with Brittney, if she got involved, she'd use the #gossipgyaru perks she has to try and fuck up Sol's rep even more.

Would be the one to give you a talk on why Sol's dangerous.

Geo also has bodyguards, along with a fuckton of money.

He could easily hire a hitman or bribe the police to ensure he has no legal trouble.

Also probably knows Hyugo well enough, so he'd probably be prepared for things his big brother is capable of.

Will use his popularity to get people to ensure Sol is far away from him (and you).

May not be as handy in a fistfight, but has prime access and ability to wield a wide range of weapons against Sol. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ However, these are the most...social and physical sides of a fight. What about you? ------------------------------------------------------------------------

To win you over, I feel like Geo would simply get you to warm up to his friends, then him.

After all, you'd be significantly more comfortable and relaxed around him that way, right?

Despite being fucked when it comes to emotion/affection, Geo is perfect at other things.

Like keeping you safe from the man who watches you sleep.

It honestly horrified you when you found out.

And you never spoke to Sol again, hell you even got a restraining order against him.

Will make his group and himself look angelic to try and get you to warm up faster.

Despite his cold geode-like exterior, will try to warm up to you (Deryl is astounded, to say the least).

Will probably tell you Sol's from a fucked home and needs psychiatric help.

You might also just start believing it.

[rayshippouuchiha]

Okay for the other Voidling that wanted reluctantly falling in love SukuIta and it Changes things I think I grabbed some that mostly fit the prompt:

One of my personal favs is Cogni_Diss’ I Understand Why You missed The Light On Your Skin and its sequel:https://archiveofourown.org/series/3313354

One Life, One Encounter by The_Rose_That_Blooms is Canon Divergence but has good pacing and slow build, it’s more slice of life but doesn’t forget it’s Jujutsu Kaisen fanfic:https://archiveofourown.org/works/38959080?view_full_work=true#kudos

The Greatest Curse of All by CB_Magique also fits the other Voidling wanting angst but it is more relationship focused angst and is SukuIta. You have to be logged in to read this one. It’s also loosely base/inspired by another fic called Crossfire by FanfictionWriter666. They are also Omega Verse fics:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/53330161?view_full_work=true#kudos

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43654245?view_full_work=true#kudos

Now for the purely angsty, unfortunately most of those are locked behind a language barrier if there are any that aren’t relationship centered but I do have a few I love that have deep angst in them and a lot of whump in some cases. The first is also a slow burn but it’s less reluctantly falling and more Sukuna takes advantage and Yuuji lets him.

Acts of Service by holly_fandom takes the reasonable argument of hey maybe we shouldn’t get close to someone slated to die who also has a very malevolent Curse inside them and runs with it:https://archiveofourown.org/works/53783410?view_full_work=true#kudos

Dogs of War by pseudonyme is GoYu and is angsty as hell. It’s Omega Verse and looks at the power play between those with power and wealth and those without. It’s a spicy slow burn filled with angst, drama, and intrigue:https://archiveofourown.org/works/52219939?view_full_work=true#kudos

The Devil Snatched Me Away and Bite the Forbidden Fruit by HeadlessKing are both fantastic and have an undercurrent of angst and tension, both are SukuIta. The first is a mysterious fast burn romance where Yuuji and Co are ordinary humans and Sukuna is still the King of Curses, whom Yuuji has a past he cannot remember with. The second is Omega Verse and is twincest and how Yuuji and Sukuna are deeply codepenant and obessed with each other. Both are angsty and have Yuuji dealing with some identity issues.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/51989029?view_full_work=true#kudos

https://archiveofourown.org/works/55068316?view_full_work=true#kudos

Misplaced Faith by Cogni_Diss is Yuuji angst from Sukuna’s point of view (with his own angst thrown in):https://archiveofourown.org/works/45057391#kudos

Some additional stuff by Cogni_Diss that doesn’t exactly fit but might help scratch the itch for both are:

When it Rains it Pours, Yuuji gets physically deaged but not mentally and KuroKuna (MegKuna) is the one to find him first:https://archiveofourown.org/works/55453804?view_full_work=true#kudos

Would A Few Minutes More Really Be So Bad? Yuuji wakes up from his weird dream of being a Sorcerer, or does he? Was that the dream or is he trapped in a new one with a kinder Sukuna? This one is more the implied angst and the Thoughts TM of is it real or is it not:https://archiveofourown.org/works/52695808#kudos

The Price of Living is Butterfly Yuuji stuck in Spider Kuna’s web, unable to get free, treasured and trapped under a suffocating love:https://archiveofourown.org/works/48340489#kudos

Impermenance deals a lot with the most recent champters and has spoilers and speculation about what gonna happen if Sukuna wins, Yuuji angst and whump but he also gets a badass moment to shine:https://archiveofourown.org/works/48340489#kudos

And finally Reborn From Your Ashes also deals with most recent chapters and spoilers but then throws it back in time to possibly the Heian Period or right after (not a time travel sense just a setting sense):https://archiveofourown.org/works/55384441#kudos

[siremasterlawrence]

Bloody Valentine 1 - 2

Part 1 - Steve’s Sweet Corruption

It has been an extraordinarily exasperatingly long, bloody, and a pointless battle for his true legacy of Captain America a warrior with untold levels of strength, courage and stubbornness.

That is until he came face to face with me the newest great threat of his existence but

I dare to fight him simply on the principle because I am about to break him totally in to his mind.

Steve is at his last bit of will chasing after me even though his tracking skills seem to still be in control but at the end of the day he did track me to the ends of the earth to

a abandon building.

Captain jumps up as the door slam closed in back of him with locks sliding down to pin us inside and a ray of neon red light burst all in to the area throwing it the entirety of the room.

His body so scanned to the point I can even read his mind now their is a hint of fear I can sense it and I will take full advantage of him now and forever soon enough he will learn a lesson.

Captain America makes a crucial mistake by racing in to the hall way, he is greeted by a hoard of soldiers I uses my magic to force them to be slaves so deeply in love with me that fight their hero.

“Well…well…well Captain America “

“It’s time to give up Bloody Valentine”

“Why must you be so upright, so upstanding?”

“It is the right thing “

“Ugh! Fuck this Boy Scout”

“Do you comprehend your evil at all?”

“Evil? Mwahahahahaha you fool!”

“You will never win…I won’t let you “

“So you think so? Who are you really Captain?”

“I know so! It ends tonight! I am a hero “

“Mwahahahahaha “

“What is so funny?”

“You walk in to my trap so eagerly and easily”

“Big Mistake! SLEEP!”

“What are…..Yes”

“Take a seat Captain “

“This is your prison until I say so”

“Why am I in a jail cell? Let me out !”

“This is your punishment until your join me”

“I am not evil”

“Yes you are “

“Fuck that “

“You are a asshole”

“You cannot win”

Steve is restless in a prison jump suit pacing through the room walking back and forth all over the room because he is scared but yet on some level he is quiet impress I can tell but he bounces back.

Hopping on to the bed they laid for him he is staring upward peering through the window gates and is amazed to see that through the window is a desert storm of hell being put forth.

There are two eyes shaped in to the sky so wide and bright he could see this is all vivid as in a dream and a wave of calmness toon over him he is hit on with these power red flames consuming the jail.

I project my image in to his mind standing in front of him as his Captain America uniform appears on to his body as he walks toward me and takes his time grabbing the prison bars.

I taunt him a bit as he reaches ever forward taking my wrist grabbing on to me hard as if to say you are not free and you will pay for this and I smack his hands away to his shock he lets go.

I crack up yet again touching his forehead as he falls backwards to the ground and he backs up but I dig for the keys slipping them in to the key hole and I enter the jail cell as stood far above him.

I knelt down next to him planting a kiss on his lip as he is completely horrified on one level but on another he is slowly crawling up to obsessing over me and I start to stand up from my position.

He grows a bit more balls taking hold of my collar pining me down to him as we kiss a bit more and we start to make out fanning the flames as it explodes in utter consumption of his body.

“What are you doing to me?”

“You should be grateful”

“I saved you “

“I owe you “

“Your life “

“I am your king”

“Your morals are transforming “

“Shifting it “

“Bad is good “

“Good is bad”

“I was living a lie”

“Correct! You are always wrong”

“You will serve me”

“You are my Captain”

“I am your King and you will bend the world to my will.”

“Strip your clothes off”

“Replace them with these “

“Yes My King”

“Stand back there will be a explosion “

“Meet me at the plane”

Part 2 - Bucky’s Heart Broken Release

Steve is so happy in the background of the aircraft quickly exchanging his clothes for something new and the outfit I pick is so fit I mean.

He really is fucking fit but I will fuck him very soon after he saved his blasted friend Bucky Barnes and Steve takes boss shield flipping jn to the air.

He lands on the roof he crashes in to the tier of the glass roof with shards flying down in to the area everywhere but he does a super hero landing and he throws the shield.

He is getting Bucky’s attention who stares up at Steve and he rises up walking to the bar and Steve smirks as he turns calling his attention to the hallway way.

The guards are spread on to the floor of the prison leaving them in a sea of gas because Steve uses his keys to the gate of the jail cell door.

Bucky walks up giving Steve a hug but he has other ideas pinning Bucky to the jail cell as they start to kiss and my energy transfer in to him.

“My King, may I ask a question?”

“Yes slave “

“May I recruit a friend”

“You mean Bucky”

“Yes! How did you know?”

“He is your best friend “

“He needs to be free “

“He has had so much trauma “

“I am aware of his damage”

“Don’t worry Steve”

“Why Master?”

“Here is the plan”

“Oh My God!”

“How did you?

“Why did you kiss me?

“Because it’s true “

“I love you buddy “

“Me too!”

“We are friends Bucky”

“I want more but you “

“I can’t what “

“He loves me”

“I love him”

“You do too”

“I don’t…I love you “

“You say it…try it again”

“I love him”

“I am your Master Lawrence “

“Because I am your God”

“Yes Master! I am your God”

The end

[beanieman]

Hi! Who from YTTD cast would use 200 tokens to escape alone and who wouldn't, if they magically could obtain them all?

Sara Chidouin - I feel like this would be an optional ending...so maybe depending on how you play her! The Sara's who are currently somewhere with Nao would likely be open to this option, but the Sara's who spare Kanna would not be as open minded.

Joe Tazuna - I don't think Joe would. He was hesitating to escape when he could have escaped with his best friend in the world, I don't think he could bring himself to escape if it meant abandoning Sara.

Gin Ibushi - No. Gin says in 3B that it bothers him that the group help him all the time and he can't help them back, so I really don't think he'd leave his friends to die.

Keiji Shinogi - My gut instinct says no, but I still think he would do something sleezy with the coins. Like use them to his bartering advantage and also as a way to gain trust from the others.

More Undercut

Alice Yabusame - No. Alice wouldn't abandon his allies.

Reko Yabusame - No. Reko wouldn't abandon her allies.

Nao Egokoro - I don't think she would UNLESS she had the sacrfice card in her hands and literally no other option to survive. I think she would save herself in that case, but she says herself that she didn't want to betray anyone when she had the sacrfice card. So I don't think she would leave and doom the others unless there was no other way out. Though I think would hesitate a lot if she knew that Sara couldn't come with her.

Kazumi Mishima - I can't see Mishima leaving everyone for death. Especially if Nao was alive.

Q-taro Burgerberg - I just have this weird feeling that he would.

Kai Satou - No. Because that would mean abandoning Sara, the only person he wants to protect.

Kanna Kizuchi - Her guilt in the game is surrounding the death of Kugie and not being able to save her. I couldn't see her being willing to kill other people so she could survive, and I think it would likely be a trigger to her trauma to even consider it.

Shin Tsukimi - I'm going to say no, but not because he's just such a good person. He cares enough about Kanna to throw his life away in her name. I don't think he would turn his back and leave her to die. No matter how scared he is of death.

Dolls

Ranmaru Kageyama - Actually. No. I don't think he would. The reason he wants to kill all of the other participants is to escape with Sara. He sees Sara as a friend, and he's such a lonely person that he heavily values her companionship to unhealthy levels. Therefore, I don't think he'd want a lone victory. I think he'd be much more likely to try and escape using the sacrfice card.

Naomichi Kurumada - At the start of his arc, yes. He believes in winning and thinks it's worthless to have allies. Both of those traits would push him toward the vending machine. However, once he grew to care about the other participants, I don't think anything could have convinced him to leave them for dead.

Anzu Kinashi - Maybe on accident. She would think she was getting an actual soda and then accidentally kill everyone. Oopsie. Maybe that's why she has such a high win rate.

Mai Tsurugi - She absolutely would anywhere in her arc before she stabbed Q-Taro. While Mai's not cruel by any means, she says it herself she wants to live. However, like Q-Taro, her heart tends to waiver, and I don't think would do it after her stabbing arc. Yet, I think it's decently likely she'd still consider it for a second before rejecting the idea.

Shunsuke Hayasaka - I think he'd consider it, but then come to the conclusion that he couldn't kill Gin.

Hinako Mishuku - I don't think she would since she's a ASU-NARO agent, and would likely to be told to not do anything so the games could have an actual participant win.

[nellasbookplanet]

Book recs: fairies

Fey, fae, fairies, faeries - pick your spelling, the fair folk are an undeniably popular trope in fantasy, and can be portrayed in wildly different ways, from cute pixies, to terrifying creatures of lore, to handsome and romantic beings of fairy tales. This list is a wild mix, all of them featuring fae or fae-like beings as central characters.

For more details on the books, continue under the readmore. Titles marked with * are my personal favorites. And as always, feel free to share your own recs in the notes!

If you want more book recs, check out my masterpost of rec lists!

Borderline (The Arcadia Project trilogy) by Mishell Baker*

Urban fantasy mystery. A year after a failed suicide attempt that cost her both her legs and her film-making career, Millie is recruited by a secretive organisation that works to control traffic to and from Arcadia, the land of faries, and given the assignment of tracking down a missing nobleman of the Seelie Court in Hollywood. Bisexual main character, excellent if you like me enjoy reading about deeply messy women.

Phaeton by Rachel Sharp*

Jack and Rosie, couple and hackers, just got their hands on a brand new device: the phaeton, a phone which, despite its crappy parts, is seemingly capable of doing the impossible. Utilizing their skills, they quickly realize it works not through technology, but by being remotely controlled by a living creature - a fae. This revelation throws them into a war between the fae of old and a new type of fae, able to withstand iron and looking to exploit their fellows through this advantage.

Rosemary and Rue (October Daye series) by Seanan Mcguire

Urban fantasy mystery. October "Toby" Daye is a changeling, half human and half fae, who, after having been burned by both sides of her heritage, has retreated to a "normal" life, away from the faerie world. But the murder of Countess Evening Winterrose pulls Toby back in, a curse forcing her to take on the mystery and find the murderer. While I found the first book a bit weak, the series does get better from there on, with engaging characters and interesting mysteries.

Knife (Faerie Rebels trilogy) by R.J. Anderson

Young adult. Young Knife is a Hunter, providing for a group of faeries living inside an oak, their population slowly dying. Long ago, their people lost almost all their magic, and without it they are doomed. But Knife isn't one to give up; recruiting the help of Paul, a human boy living nearby the faery oak, she is set on discovering the secret of - and solution to - her people's missing magic.

Among Others by Jo Walton

Magical realism. Growing up with a half-crazed mother, Morwenna found solace in two places: reading science fiction novels, and playing with the spirits of Wales alongside her twin sister. But after their mother tried to twist the spirits to her own whims with deadly consequences, Mori is sent off alone to private school, where she attempts to come to terms with what happened. This is less "teen girl on big adventure" and more "what happens after the trauma of adventure", with it being partly left up to the reader whether the fantastical elements are read as real or not.

Gossamer Axe by Gael Baudino

Centuries ago in Ireland, Chairiste Ní Cummen was trained in the secrets of music and magic. But her pride was her downfall, trapping her and her lover in the land of the Sidh. Only Chairiste escaped, hoping to one day win her lover's freedom in musical battle with the fairy that holds her captive. Now she is Christa Cruitare, harp teacher in the modern world and all but resigned to her loss. Until she comes across a great new music: heavy metal. Taking one last chance to win her lover's freedom, Christa sets out to gather other skilled musicians and bring them with her in her final battle.

In the Jaded Grove by Anela Deen

After years of war, pixie soldier Simith is tired of bloodshed and secretly sets up a meeting to discuss peace. But he’s betrayed and forced on the run - right through a door to another world. Meanwhile, Jessa is on her way home when she encounters a man about to be killed, and intervenes to save his life. With that simple act, the fate of the two - and that of the war - become interlinked. While I found the general execution of this one a bit weak, the concept and characters are interesting, and it’s a fun take on the portal fantasy genre.

Under the Pendulum Sun by Jeannette Ng

Catherine Helstone's brother Laon has traveled to Arcadia, the dangerous land of the Fae, and has since lost contact with her. Worried sick and desperate for news, Catherine embarks on the perilous journey herself, but on arrival she fins herself isolated and in danger of the Queen of the Fae, who is hard on her brother's heel.

Emily Wilde's Encyclopaedia of Faeries by Heather Fawcett*

Historical fantasy. Emily Wilde is a professor who prefers the company of faeries, dangerous but bound to rules she can understand, to that of humans, who she finds inexplicable. Working on her faerie encyclopedia, she travels on a research expedition to the faraway Hrafnsvik, hoping for some solitary months of study. Her hopes are dashed when Wendell Bambleby, rival scholar and possible faerie in hiding, arrives on her doorstep. But Wendell's aggravating presence is far from Emily's only problem, as the Hidden Folk of Hrafnsvik turns out to be far more dangerous than expected.

The Watchers by A.M. Shine

Horror. When her car breaks down, Mina tries crossing a forest by foot. As the sun goes down she finds herself lost with something dangerous closing in; at the last second, a woman appears and urges her into a bunker. Inside is a room with a mirrored wall, in which a group of strangers, stranded just like Mina, huddles through the night. Outside in the dark, something malevolent watches them through the glass. Will the group ever be able to escape the forest? While I found the characters somewhat unconvincing, this is a spooky story with fascinating lore.

The Call (Grey Land duology) by Peadar Ó'Guilín

Young adult horror. After having scorned the fae, Nessa's nation has been cursed: every teenager will, at some point, be called into the Grey Land for 3 minutes and 4 seconds before being returned. 9 out of 10 are returned dead. Trying to keep their country alive, children are sent off to training schools to prepare them and better their chances of survival. Her legs having been twisted by polio at a young age, Nessa's chances are worse than most, but she is determined to make it through her call alive.

The Twisted Ones by T. Kingfisher*

Horror. When her grandmother dies, Mouse takes on the task of clearing out the old woman's home. But as she arrives at her grandmother's home she realizes her mistake: her grandmother was a hoarder, and Mouse has her work cut out for her. As if this wasn't bad enough, among the things left behind Mouse finds her step-grandfather's journal, describing various horrifying encounters. All nonsense, Mouse, assumes - until she starts making her own encounters in the dark forest surrounding the house.

Faebound (Faebound series) by Saara El-Arifi

Elven sisters Yeeren and Lettle have grown up in the shadow of a forever war, one as a soldier and the other as a diviner and teller of prophecy. But when Yeeren makes a fatal mistake and is exiled, the two leave their familiar world for the first time - and end up with the mythical, and believed extinct, fae. Here they must juggle their own loyalties and hearts with political intrigue as they try to find a way to survive and return to their home. While I didn’t personally dig the romantasy vibes of this and found the elves and fae could’ve been more interesting, if you like epic fantasy with heavy romance, both f/f and f/m, you will probably enjoy it.

Spinning Silver by Naomi Novik*

Historical fantasy with strong fairytale vibes. Miryem's father is a moneylender, but his inability to collect on debts has left his family on the brink of ruin. Desperate and ruthless, Miryem steps in to take his place, and suddenly the family's luck has turned. But Miryem's reputation of being able to turned silver to gold catches the attention of the Staryk King - dangerous creatures who seem made of ice body, mind and heart. In her schemes to survive the King's demands, Miryem's actions ensnare a local farmer's daughter as well as the new wife of the tsar. As their fates are bound together, the three girls may change their land forever, for better or for worse.

An Enchantment of Ravens by Margaret Rogerson

Young adult romance. Isobel is an artist with a particular and dangerous set of clients in the fair folk. The fairies cannot create art on their own, and her portraits are highly coveted. But as she paints a portrait for the autumn prince, Rook, Isobel makes a mistake: she paints human emotion into his eyes. This weakens Rook before the fairy court, and in his fury he spirits Isobel away to stand trial for her crime.

Stardust by Neil Gaiman

In a desperate attempt to win the heart of the beautiful Victoria, Tristran Thorn makes her a promise to fetch the falling star they both saw crash one night. But to do so, he must enter the land of Faerie, where nothing is as it seems, least of all the fallen star, who isn't very keen on being given away as a gift.

Guardian of the Dead by Karen Healey*

Young adult. Ellie cares mostly about hanging out with her friend Kevin and pining after her crush Mark, but when a string of grisly murders - all the victims missing their eyes - starts taking place in her town, it’s the start of something ancient and dangerous, as vengeful fairies battle for immortality. Set in New Zeeland and based on Māori mythology.

Princess Floralinda and the Forty-Flight Tower by Tamsyn Muir

Novella. When Floralinda was first locked in a tower by a witch, princes kept coming to try and save her. But none of them made it past the dragon on the first floor, let alone the monsters after it, and now the supply of willing princes seems to have dried up. Starting to grow desperate, Floralinda captures and makes a deal with a small fairy for it to assist her in escaping the tower.

A note: all these Holly Black books are set in the same universe and do on occasion cross over, but can be read independently.

Tithe (Modern Faerie Tales trilogy) by Holly Black

Young adult. Sixteen-year-old Kade, used to traveling around with her mother's rock band, has just found herself back in her childhood home town. Here she meets up with old acquaintances - not all of them human. For Kade has always been able to see the faeries invisible to most humans. Among them is a handsome faerie knight she finds injured in the woods and chooses to help. In doing this, she becomes embroiled in a struggle between two rivaling and highly dangerous faerie courts.

The Darkest Part of the Forest by Holly Black

Young adult. Siblings Hazel and Ben live in Fairfold, a strange town where people leave out milk for the fairies and tourists come to look at a fairy prince locked in an enchanted sleep in a glass coffin in the woods. But things have been getting even stranger in Fairfold; the fair folk are getting more agressive, and the glass coffin in the woods gets shattered. As unrest spreads throughout the town, Hazel keeps a secret that may unravel it all.

The Cruel Prince (The Folk of The Air trilogy) by Holly Black

Young adult. When Jude was seven, her parent's were murdered by a spurned faerie lover of her mother's, while she and her sisters were stolen away to be raised at the High Court of Faerie. Ten years later, Jude wants nothing more than to belong in this dangerous land. Her struggle is made all the harder by Cardan, handsome faerie prince with a knack for pestering her. As she strives for some semblance of power in this dangerous realm, Jude gets involved with a conspiracy that may change Faerie forever.

Bonus AKA I haven't read these yet but they seem really cool

Sinners (The Fae Feast series) by Eka Waterfield

Niavin isn't just a sidh Lord, he's also a drug lord, providing the fae's drug of choice: toxic human pollution.

Lore of the Wilds by Analeigh Sbrana

Romantasy. Lore Alemeyu's village is under ruthless Fae rule, trapped within a forested prison. To protect her village, Lore makes a deal with a Fae lord to organize an enchanted library which only a human can enter.

Black Sun Rising (The Coldfire trilogy) by C.S. Friedman

On a planet far away, a priest, an adept, a sorcerer, and an apprentice are drawn together to fight against the evil fae which preys upon humanity.

That Self-Same Metal (Forge & Fracture Saga) by Brittany N. Williams

Young adult historical fantasy. Joan Sands works as a stagehand for William Shakespeare's acting company. Secretly, she’s also blessed by the Orisha with magical powers, and the ability to see Fae. And lately, the Fae are up to something...

Euphoria Kids by Alison Evans

Three teens - one cursed to sometimes be invisible, one who grew from a seed in the ground, and one who has yet to find his real name - find themselves sharing magic and the ability to speak with dryads and fae.

The Wind City by Simmer Wigmore

Old forces are gathering in Wellington, as the displaced iwi atua of legend reappear and decide to make the city their home, and not all of them mean well.

Honorary mentions AKA these didn't really work for me but maybe you guys will like them: Wicked Lovely by Melissa Marr, A Court of Thorns and Roses by Sarah J. Maas, Faerie Tale by Raymond E. Feist, Malice by Heather Walter, Poison Kiss by Ana Mardoll, Wintersong by S. Jae-Jones

[sentientcave]

You Drive Me Wild - Nikolai x OC It's October 1990, and Nikolai is a soldier, guarding the Soviet embassy in Copenhagen. It's a dull assignment, with dull comrades, the only bright spot of his station the days away from the embassy, when he can get to know this new city and her people. It's one of these nights when a woman he's been dreaming about walks into a smoky bar, and into his arms at last.

Contains: Alcohol, smoking, age-gap relationship, plain text is "translated" Russian (Since it is Nikolai's perspective), English in italics, pining, low-key hero worship, oral sex, unprotected (oops) sex. (Let me know if I missed something!)

~7.3k - MDNI!! - Intended for mature audiences

Read on AO3

Copenhagen, October 5th, 1990

Copenhagen was… Alright. 

Nikolai had gotten a cushy sort of assignment, thanks to Natalia’s connections, guarding the Soviet embassy. Mostly all he had to do was stand around and look threatening, check identification at the gate, occasionally follow the ambassador around to some function or another. It wasn’t complicated. It wasn’t exciting. It just… was. Days bled into each other like cheap watercolour paint, edges blurred and indistinct. The routine chafed at him. He had gotten too used to freedom, running wild between Leningrad and the farmhouse out in Kyrelia, skipping school and occasionally helping his uncle with work, which was more likely to end in real action than anything he did at the embassy. A high-speed car chase through fields of rye was good fun, and a knife-fight in a back alley was better. 

Still, there was a certain thrill to getting out of Russia— A few runs across the border into Finland hadn’t given him much idea of what life was like outside, and he was eager to taste what the West had to offer him. He spent every moment that he could off base, practising his languages, picking up pretty brunettes (English and American ones, when he could), listening to music that hadn’t been approved by any government agency, played in basement bars, laced with anger and heavy guitar, the air heavy with smoke and the smell of sweat. He would have spent too much of his meagre salary going out to bars around the city, if he didn’t so often wind up with more cash in his pockets than when he left, betting on games of pool and poker and winning more often than not. 

He had a few favourite establishments, ones with a higher turnover rate of tourists. It was harder to shark the same people twice, but cocky American tourists provided good hunting for a fresh-faced soldier who was oh so good at pretending to be a simple country boy. It was their own arrogance that lost the games before they had even begun. Nikolai had no qualms about using that American bluff and bluster to his advantage. This particular bar was near some of the embassies and plenty of hotels, and he’d already made a hundred American dollars playing pool with chain of unlucky marks (So typical of Americans to carry their own currency in another country). He sat at the bar considering his next move. He felt no particular urge to play any longer, or to return to his comrades, sitting at a table on the other side of the crowded establishment. Perhaps he would try his luck with the table of leggy blond women in the back corner of the smoky bar. One of them had been throwing smiles his way for the past half-hour. Pussy was pussy, even if he did prefer brunettes with thick, muscular thighs. 

“You should play another round of pool,” Ivan, one of his fellow embassy guards said in his ear, half crashing into him from behind, knocking Nikolai into the bar and nearly spilling his beer. “There is a beautiful woman who’s about to beat a couple of Germans, you could have next game.” 

Nikolai made a disgruntled sound. “I’m done for tonight,” he said, draining the rest of his beer. “You play her.” He had neglected to return to the table with Ivan and the others for a reason. He was tired of the usual posturing and boisterous behaviour already, and they had really only started in on their night. They often made fun of him for calling it early, or not trying to keep up with them, but it was always his turn to feel superior in the morning, when they could hardly open their eyes. 

“Ah, come on, Kolyan. I can’t speak German or English. She will look at me like I’m a fool if I try to speak to her.” Ivan relied too heavily on Nikolai when it came to women. He made no effort to learn other languages, putting him at a disadvantage talking to local and tourist alike in Copenhagen, where Danish, English, German and even French were the best bets for communication.

“Maybe she speaks Russian.” 

Ivan scoffed. “Unlikely. She looks American.”

Nikolai rolled his eyes, but turned to look, rewarded with the sight of a round ass wearing a pair of blue jeans bent over the table. A brunette, with shiny, slightly curling hair pulled into a high ponytail, wearing a leather jacket. Judging by the looks on the faces of the two blond giants across from her, she was about to clear the table. And she was just Nikolai’s type, by the shape of her. 

He ordered two shots of whiskey, and when he turned to look around again, the woman had circled to the other side of the table. Nikolai’s heart stammered to a stop for a moment, bounced against the bottom of his stomach, and lurched back into motion as it landed hard in it’s usual place. 

Helena.

She sank the eight ball, grinning like a wolf, her red-painted lips stark contrast against her white teeth. “Sorry, boys. That’s game,” she told them in that pretty English accent of hers. “Better luck next time.”

Nikolai slapped a few krone on the bar and picked up the shot glasses, sidling up to Helena, setting them on the water-stained wooden edges of the pool table. “Lena,” he said, puffing himself up a bit. He had no need to pitch his voice lower now, or pull himself ramrod straight to give him the extra height.  He was undoubtedly a man now, with a days worth of stubble on his chin and enough experience with women that he would not turn pink or stammer when she looked at him. She would have to see that. “Have a drink with me.”

Her attention snapped away from the Germans and to him, eyes devastatingly sharp on their first pass, until recognition softened her features with a smile half a heartbeat later. “Kolya?” she asked. “What are you doing here?” She didn’t wait for an answer before she seized him around the neck, pulling him into a tight hug. 

Nikolai wrapped his arms around her waist, picking her up and spinning her in a tight circle, breathing in the smell of cigarettes and sweet, spicy perfume. He was a lot taller than she was now, and she fit into his arms better than a dream, with weight and substance. The last time he had seen her, three years that felt like a lifetime ago, they had been the same height. 

“I’m a soldier now,” he told her as he set her back down on her feet, his hands lingering on her hips just a moment longer than necessary. He had no desire to let her go, but he did. “Stationed at the embassy. Aunt Talia pulled strings. It’s an easy assignment.”

“They made you cut your hair.” She rubbed a hand over his head, her hand sliding down the back of his neck before she let it fall back to her side. “It’s too bad. The long hair suited you.”

Nikolai nudged her gently, picking the shots up again and handing one to her. “I’ll grow it back once I’m my own man again. For you.”

He loved the way her eyes creased when she smiled. “Good.” They knocked their glasses together and downed them at the same time. “You still smoke?” she asked, inclining her head towards the door. “I was about to step outside.”

“You can smoke in here.” A bluish haze hung in the air above their heads, swirling whenever someone opened the door to admit a fresh gust of air, and many patrons of the bar had lit cigarettes in their hands, smoke drifting upwards with every exhale. 

“I know. But it’s loud. I want to catch up.” 

He would never argue against taking a moment alone with her. “As you wish.” He gestured for her to walk ahead of him. He could feel Ivan’s eyes on the back of his neck, so he shot a quick, gloating glance over his shoulder at his open-mouthed comrade, and then dashed ahead to open the door for Helena. 

They stepped into the cool night air, and Helena pulled a pack of smokes out of her inner jacket pocket and thumbed one up enough that she could pull it out with her mouth, and offered the pack to Nikolai while she dug her lighter out of the front pocket of her jeans. 

“You’re here on business?” Nikolai held her wrist steady as he plucked a cigarette from the pack, fingers moving fast enough that he hoped she wouldn’t notice that he took one that had the slightest smudge of red lipstick on it. He might be a man, but he didn’t harbour any illusions about his chances with Helena. An indirect kiss was the best he could hope for. 

Lena tucked the pack into her pocket again, nodding. “Yes. Finished up now. I’ll be leaving tomorrow.” She lit her own cigarette and held up the lighter for him, her other hand cupped around the flame to protect it from the chilly breeze that rolled down the well-lit streets.

“That’s too bad. I have a few days off. It would be nice to spend some time with you.” He braced a hand on the wall behind her as he leaned in, meeting her eyes evenly. Did he just imagine that little hitch of breath? The spark of interest in her dark brown eyes?

She looked away, flicking the lighter closed. “I could maybe stick around another day.”

“Maybe another two?” he asked playfully. He was still looming over her, not touching, but close enough to share heat. She didn’t move away. 

“We’ll see.” She braced her left elbow against her hand, setting the cigarette to her lips, her eyes everywhere but on him. Perhaps her stance was protective, hesitant, but still… Something had very obviously shifted between them. 

Her wedding band was missing. 

After three years of pining and chasing any woman that reminded him even a little of Helena, it was a cold-water shock to the system to imagine that the real thing was suddenly attainable. Fate had smiled at him, led them to each other on a chilly autumn night in a city big enough that they could have easily sailed right past each other, not even knowing that the other was near. Nikolai was no longer a child, he was tall and strong like a man worthy of her ought to be, and she was as beautiful as he remembered, sloe-eyed and ageless, and she was not wearing a wedding ring. 

Still, his chances balanced like a knife tip on a finger. It would be easy to move to fast or too slow, to ask the wrong question or provide the wrong answer. Helena might still think him too young. He could stumble and show his limited experience, let the facade of confidence slip, allow the knife to tumble, sharp and glittering, to the ground.  

He resisted the urge to touch one of the escaped wisps of hair that framed her face, curling in the damp sea air. "Do you ever wear your hair down?" he asked, pivoting away from the inclination to ask about her marriage. Maybe that would be a conversation for a few drinks later. 

"Not really," she said, finally looking up at him again, tucking one of those escaped curls behind her ear. "Why?" 

"Just wondering. I think I only even saw it down once. It is always business with you. Practicality." 

"Nothing wrong with that."

"Certainly not. It is just curiosity." 

"Hm. Of course.” The look she gave him was strange, fond but slightly suspicious, like she knew that there was something unsaid underneath his casual tone, but hadn’t quite figured out what. “How is the family?” Her turn to pivot, turning the conversation away from herself and back to predictable waters. “Last time I spoke to Talia she said she was expecting another baby." 

Nikolai nodded. "Yes. Due soon. Maybe inside the month. And little Aleksei just turned three. Getting bigger every day. Talking endlessly, asking a thousand questions every day. Wants to know the whys of every little thing. How is your son? Ten now, yes?" 

"Yes. He's a smart boy. Very capable. He's an expert marksman already. Hits a dead eye on a moving target eight times out of ten." 

"Impressive." 

“He’s got no real sense for flying though. Taken him up a few times, but he doesn’t like heights. Poor kid.”

Nikolai laughed, struck, not for the first time, at the absurdity of her being a mother at all. She had patience, but little softness, more a captain training a recruit than a mother teaching her son, more concerned with toughness and survival than anything else. She was a hawk nudging her fledgling out of the nest and hoping he would fly. “He is only ten years old, Lena,” he reminded her. “You cannot expect him to be an expert in all things.”

“Well, I suppose not. He’s a pretty good driver, at least.” 

Ivan tumbled out the door, followed by Iosif and Pyotr, the three of them laughing. Like Nikolai, they had gotten their stations in Copenhagen due to connections, but unlike Nikolai, they didn’t take an ounce of it seriously. Nikolai was no nationalist, but he did respect the training. He knew he could outrun, out-lift and out-shoot all three of them. And when it came to thinking, he was many miles ahead as well. 

“Kolyan! We thought you left us behind,” Pyotr said. “But no, you are just out here with a beautiful woman.” 

“Helena,” Lena supplied, giving them a half-wave with her nearly spent cigarette. 

“Pyotr,” he replied, giving her a wide smile. He was tall as Nikolai, and blond and handsome in an annoying, self-aware way. “Ivan, and Iosif,” he added, pointing to the others in turn. “You don’t look Russian.” They were all so surprised when someone could speak more languages then they were born with, as though their own ignorant refusal to learn to communicate was the norm.

“I’m English,” she said. “A friend of Kolya’s family.”

Iosif gave Helena a look that lingered too long everywhere but her face. It made Nikolai want to punch him repeatedly. “You’re very beautiful,” Iosif said bluntly. “Can I buy you a drink?”

She smiled at him, the wolfish one that was all bared teeth and thinly-veiled threat, and dropped her cigarette to the damp ground, stepping on it to ensure it was fully out. “No. I buy my own drinks.”

“Kolyan bought you a drink,” Iosif protested. 

“I don’t like you as much as I like him,” Lena said, shrugging. “There are no debts between us.” 

Of course she would say so. She didn’t tally favours against friends, no concern for balanced books when the scales were tipped her way. He didn’t operate like that— Couldn’t afford to let favours accumulate interest, liked to collect sooner rather than later, keeping his own ledger clear. But it was staggering, how much he owed her. For the gifts, his flight lessons, the dust up in Leningrad where he had gotten injured, cornered and nearly killed, and she had taken down two men with her boot knife and bare hands. “Not quite,” Nikolai said softly. “My life is yours.” Perhaps it was nothing to her, just another day in a life filled with violence, but he would certainly not forget the sight of her covered in someone else’s blood, rushing to his side the moment both bodies hit the floor. 

She shook her head, looking up at him. Her dark eyes looked starry, the way they cast back the orange light of streetlamps and the pink and blue neon sign from across the street, but it was hard to fathom what she was thinking, behind all that reflected colour. “No, Kolya. You owe me nothing.”

Nikolai tossed down his own cigarette and tapped his first knuckle against the bottom of her chin, leaning in a little closer. “It is really not a matter of owing, Helena,” he purred. “It is a matter of knowing where I stand.”

Her lips parted slightly, a hint of colour creeping into her pale cheeks. 

“If there is a story there, we’d like to hear it,” Pyotr said smoothly, interrupting the moment with all the grace of a bucking bull smashing through a window. “Come, let Kolyan buy you another drink, tell us why he owes you his life.”

“It is better if I tell it,” Nikolai said. “She will discount her actions, because she is as modest as she is beautiful. But it is up to her if we join you. Tonight she is my general.” He dropped his arm to her shoulders, pulling her in close. She made no move to push him away, and her body fit right in against him like she belonged there. Like she belonged with him. 

“They’re your friends, Kolya. Up to you.”

In all truth, he didn’t want to share any of her attention with them, although he did feel a certain pull to show her off some, even though she was not really his.  “One drink,” he said. “We won’t stay long.”

They crowded back into the bar, and Helena touched Nikolai's chest lightly. "I'll be right back," she said, taking off for the back corner of the bar, weaving through clumps of other patrons. It was getting busier, and a band was tuning up their instruments on the opposite side of the establishment, the noise already sending ripples through the haze of smoke. Pyotr followed him to the bar while Ivan and Iosif laid claim to one of the few remaining tables. 

"You always have good luck with women," Pyotr complained while they waited for the bartender to take notice of them. "You should leave some beautiful girls for the rest of us, no?" 

"If you learned another tongue you could speak to some of them yourself," Nikolai said. "You and Ivan should try. Iosif has been learning English. He's fucking terrible at it, but it's worth the effort. He gets dates." 

"Your Helena speaks Russian. And German?" 

"And French. Maybe more than that. She does business in many countries."

“Business? She does not look like a business woman.”

Nikolai shrugged, burying his irritation under nonchalance. “Perhaps you have a narrow mind.” 

Once they had their drinks in hand, they found the other two soldiers, and crammed into the booth with them. With four bulky men in the space, it was hard to imagine squeezing Helena into a proper seat. Nikolai wanted to kiss Ivan and Iosif on the mouth for creating a scenario where he might be able to coax Helena to sit on his lap. They were not good for much, but at least they were good for something. 

Helena reappeared at his shoulder, and Nikolai twisted to look up at her, surprised to find that she had taken her hair down from its ponytail. She looked a little wilder that way, a little younger, dark hair loose around her shoulders, curling at the ends.

"Why don't you sit with me?" Pyotr asked, patting his knee invitingly. "Pretty thing like you ought to have a man take care of you, yes?" 

Helena gave him an unamused look and hooked her arm around Nikolai's shoulders, dropping onto his thigh without any further ceremony. Nikolai wrapped his arm around her waist happily, his big hand sitting on the junction between her hip and thigh. He resisted the urge to dig his fingers in and feel her properly. "Don't get any ideas, Kolya," she told him, an attempt to be stern, although he wasn't sure either of them really believed that she meant it. "I'm far too old." 

"Not so," Nikolai said, hoping honesty would help his case. "I've been with older women than you." He preferred women to girls his own age. 

Surprise flickered across her face. She was rarely surprised, but the expression suited her, her soft red lips parting slightly, her beautiful eyes, usually half closed, opened wide. Ivan and Iosif were laughing, Iosif jostling Pyotr with his elbow for getting rejected so definitively. 

Nikolai pressed his advantage, leaning in close, his words only for her. "Perhaps you will tell me later why you have no ring on your finger." 

She turned her head slightly. They were so close that their noses almost brushed. "Kolya..." 

"Lena," he returned, nudging the tip of his nose against hers, satisfaction pooling in his belly at the was she inhaled, like she thought he was going to try to kiss her. And then he turned away, picking up his beer and nudging hers toward the corner of the table slightly.

Yes, things had certainly shifted between them.

There was something gratifying about having her there, and not just because her warm body was pressed close to his, but to have someone to exchange a look with when Pyotr said something out of touch, or when Ivan made a terrible joke. They tended to think alike, him and his sparrowhawk, and every time they looked at each other it was confirmation of the chemistry that Nikolai had long been painfully aware of, and Lena was just beginning to realize. 

When she finished her beer, she stood up, heading outside for another cigarette. She didn’t like to smoke indoors— Nikolai suspected it was more a reason to take a step outside to gather her thoughts than it was for any type of propriety. Pyotr had offered her two as they sat around the table, and she had politely declined each time. 

“I won’t be back,” he told the others, grinning wolfishly at the sour look on Pyotr’s face. “Try not to get into too much trouble without me. You will not be able to talk your way out of it.”

He found Lena around the corner, tucked into an alley to get out of the wind. The weather had a habit of shifting without warning, and there was a smell of ozone in the air, promising rain, although the sky above them was still dark and clear. 

She looked at him, but didn’t speak, simply held out her pack of cigarettes to offer him one. He lit it with his own lighter this time, nodding his thanks rather than breaking the silence. If she had something on her mind, it would be better to wait her out. So he smoked, standing a step away, watching her. He could never get tired of looking at her anyway. 

Finally, she spoke, an accusation, but delivered lightly. “You’ve been flirting.”

He nodded. The allegations were more than true. He was only glad that she could not charge him for the thoughts he’d indulged in, not simply that evening, but for a very long time. “I have.”

“Why?”

“Because I want you.” 

She dropped her spent cigarette to the ground, frowning. "Kolya, you're too young. You should be with someone your own age." 

Nikolai dropped his own cigarette and threw caution away as well, stepping forward, crowding her up against the rough brick, and cupped her face, allowing all the admiration and want that he'd tried to bury for years to rise to the surface. "I am nearly twenty. I am a soldier. Old enough to die for my country, but not old enough to want to make love to a beautiful woman I respect and adore?" 

She gripped his wrists, but didn't pull his hands away. "I--"

"No. Even before you were not happy. You deserve more, from a man who will do anything for you. Let me be that man, Lena. At least for a day or two, hm?" He pressed his lips to hers and drew back, searching her eyes for a reaction. Her grip on his wrists loosened and fell away, her palms settling against his chest instead. Not pushing him away, but not pulling him closer either. 

They looked at each other for a long moment, indecision writ in bold script across her face. Good sense would have her send him away, but it was not a night where good sense reigned supreme. They were alone, in a world that had shrank to fit just the two of them, everything else forgotten and distant. 

Her eyes dropped from his and settled on his mouth. "Oh fuck it," she said, and they crashed together desperately, her hands gripping his shirt.

Heat blazed in his chest, like a sputtering engine roaring to life. She opened up to him without him having to do any prodding, he could taste smoke and the clean burn of alcohol on her tongue as it moved against his. This was passion, not the clumsy, anxious pawing between two inexperienced people, like he was more used to, but the inevitable reaction of two people who knew exactly what they wanted. He threaded his fingers through her silky hair, angling her head slightly so he could deepen the kiss the slightest bit more, licking eagerly into her mouth. She made a soft sound, arms twining around his neck so she could press her body closer to his. He let his own hands settle on her waist. As much as he wanted to touch every inch of her, he didn't want to come across as too excitable or get carried away by his desire. He needed to make Helena melt first. His own pleasure was a guarantee. Even if she stopped him there, he had held and touched and kissed her now, and he had come many times to paltry imaginings of less.

Lena broke them apart, breathing hard, her dark eyes bright and slightly unfocused, like she had never been kissed like that. Like his kiss had left her more unsteady than the drinks, her red lipstick smeared across her mouth. “I’m staying close by,” she told him, running her thumb across the corner of his mouth, coming away with more red pigment. “Do you want—”

He cut her off with another kiss. He didn’t give a fuck if there was lipstick staining his own mouth. It was just evidence that she really had kissed him. “If you’re asking if I want to get out of here, the answer is yes.”

“Should you tell your friends?”

“No. I make it a habit to leave without saying goodbye. Especially if a beautiful woman has been sitting in my lap all evening.” He grinned, catching her hand as he stepped back. “Where are you staying?”

They walked to her hotel slowly, Nikolai stopping to kiss her at every opportunity, a little worried that she might, at any moment, come to her senses and send him on his way. He had wanted her so badly for so long, he did not wish to stop until they had tangled up together in bed, and perhaps not even then. Perhaps he could convince her to spend more time with him. Perhaps when he had served his time in the army he would be able to follow her wherever she went. 

It would likely take some convincing, but he was up to the task. In that moment, he was up to any task. 

She unlocked the door to her hotel room, her expression turning pensive. "I'm not divorced yet, we’re just separated for now. Maybe this is--"

"Lena, I am not asking you for the rest of your life." He didn't add that he would take it, if she offered it to him-- That he would take anything she offered him, no matter how big or small. "I only want to show you what you mean to me." 

She pushed the door open to let him in. "I don't-- I don't even know if we will get divorced." 

"I don't care." He did. He cared a lot, but if he said that aloud she would halt things, tell him it was for his own good. 

"Of course not. It's just a crush you want to work out of your system, right?" She smiled wryly, shedding her leather jacket and tossing it over a chair. 

"Sure." He tossed his own jacket down on top of hers and hauled her back into his arms. "Do you want to talk about this man that never deserved you? Or do you want to forget him?" He rubbed his thumb over the jagged scar on her arm, where it cut her RAF tattoo in half, his touch following it up to where it disappeared under her rolled up t-shirt sleeve and back down again. 

She drew in a shaky breath, as unsure as Nikolai had ever seen her. "He cheated on me. Said it was because I was gone so much. Guess I can’t blame him for that. Just never was able to stay home. Too much to do. Not built for domesticity.” 

“You cannot help being what you are,” Nikolai said.

Lena laughed lightly and wound her arms around his waist, her hands slipping under his shirt and curling against his back. “Are you going to tell me what I am, Kolya?” she asked, tilting her head back to look at him. 

“A sparrowhawk. A fierce little hunting bird. A warrior, perhaps, a traveller, certainly. Never the kind of woman that belongs tucked away in a kitchen somewhere. Your husband is a fool if he cannot appreciate you as you were made to be.” 

“He wants to work it out,” she warned him. “We've got so much tangled up together it might be the only thing that makes sense." 

“Perhaps. Perhaps if you must, you should allow him to chase his lesser women, so that you can spend your time with a better man.” He grinned at her and moved in for another kiss. He had said everything that needed saying, laid out what cards he thought would aid him, and kept the rest tucked away for later. She all but melted in his arms, lips parting reflexively for him. 

This time, he made no effort to restrain himself, letting his hands roam, moaning into her mouth when he finally got a handful of her backside, fingers gripping a little too tight from enthusiasm. What curves she had were incidental, from her broad-hipped build rather than much softness— Even motherhood had granted very little softness to Lena, she was packed muscle and callouses and fire, totally unlike any of the pale imitations he had found himself chasing over the past few years. Lena would always be a soldier first, it would take some effort to remind her that she was a woman too. 

Nikolai stepped forward, making Lena move backwards until her knees hit the bed, and broke the kiss so he could kiss down her neck, sucking a little too hard just below her ear, making her hiss. She gripped the collar of his shirt firmly, hauling him back a bit. “Easy,” she said, laughing. “Leave the hickies for the college girls, Kolya.”

He flushed pink, although the embarrassment from his mistake did nothing to dampen the mood, blessedly. “Sorry,” he said, knocking his forehead against hers. “You’re very hot.”

Lena grinned in response and tugged his shirt off over his head, tossing it to the side. She ran her hands over his chest, eyes following hungrily. “So are you.”

Nikolai had been hard since they started kissing outside the bar, but her words, somehow all the more genuine delivered in her own tongue, coupled with the look she gave him made him twitch, blood fully abandoning his head to travel south. He pulled her shirt off too, and kissed down her chest, cheering internally that he managed to unhook her bra on the first attempt, rather than struggling with the clasp like a schoolboy. 

Her nails grazed over his head encouragingly when he reached her small breasts, lapping his tongue across one nipple and palming the other. She made a breathy sound, and then a groan when he tested his teeth against the sensitive nub. He groaned too, some primal part of him getting off on the fact that he was making her feel good, that she was letting him touch her, that she was enjoying the feeling of his hands and lips and tongue and teeth on her skin. He felt twenty feet tall. 

Lena reached for his belt, undoing the buckle before his syrupy-slow thoughts could catch up. He broke away from her breast and caught her wrists before she could do more than undo the top button of his jeans. He was fairly sure he would spill all over her fingers if she put her hands on him. “Impatient,” he chided her, pushing her onto the bed. He sank to his knees, positioning his body between her thighs. “Ladies first.”

Her laugh was always music to his ears, but it was honey sweet now, pooling somewhere in his chest as he cut her off with another kiss. He couldn’t risk her seeing the feeling in his eyes— He knew it was too close to love, that she would realize that this meant more to him than it did to her, and she would send him away to protect him. 

He ducked his head and sank back on his haunches, pulling one of her boots into his lap so he could undo the laces and pull it free. She leaned back on her elbows to watch him, her head tipped to the side thoughtfully. Her gaze burned, but he didn’t look up until he had set both boots to the side, sliding his hands up her firm thighs to the waistband of her jeans. “These need to come off now.” 

“Now who’s impatient?” she asked teasingly, but she pitched her hips up so he could peel the denim off of her legs anyway, the heat in her eyes undeniable. 

Nikolai ran his hands up her legs reverently, dropping a kiss on the inside of her knee, torn as ever between restraint and enthusiasm. He pushed her legs open a little wider, attention fixed on her cotton-clad cunt. 

Lena gave him a sly, fox-like smile. "You want to taste me?" She asked, hooking her thumbs through the waistband of her panties. 

"More than anything," he breathed. 

"Then get to it, soldier," she said, pushing them down.

"Yes ma'am." Nikolai pulled them the rest of the way off, and tried to be subtle about shoving the (wet!) cotton in his pocket. She probably saw, but she was gracious enough to not mention it. He wasted no more time, pulling her to the edge of the bed as he peppered the inside of her thighs with kisses, eyes focused on her pretty pussy, framed by slick darkened curls. His cock throbbed as he dipped his head down, licking a broad path along her slit, groaning at the heady taste of her. He threw one of her lean legs over his shoulder and fixed his mouth to her clit, lapping his tongue across it, gripping tightly to her hips when they bucked up against him. A moan fell from Helena's mouth, prompting him to repeat the movement. 

He found a rhythm quickly, spurred on by her gasped instructions, or her hand nudging his head into just the right position. He had found that the benefit sleeping with older women was that they weren’t shy about asking for what they wanted, but Helena took it a step further and simply took, grinding against his tongue, using the leg over his shoulder to pull him closer, the other planted on his thigh so she could push him just slightly away, reminding him to breathe. As if that was important, when the sharp taste of her was heavy on his tongue and her moans were thick in the air. 

“Two fingers,” Lena gasped, nudging him back slightly to make sure he was listening. “Inside, please.”

Nikolai obeyed, leaning back to watch her face, replacing his tongue with his thumb. Her soaked cunt pulsed around his fingers, her hips canting toward his touch desperately. He curled his fingers just so, and she keened, fisting the sheets as if she were worried that she would levitate off the bed and away from his hands. “Will you come for me?” he purred. “You look so beautiful. Taste so sweet.”

His words made her gush, her walls clenching tight around him. “Fuck— Kolya!” Her whole body shuddered, pulling taut, tension snapping when he suctioned his mouth to her swollen clit once more, moaning against her as she came, as if her pleasure was his own. It nearly was. He was so hard, and his jeans so tight that he could imagine coming just from the pressure and the sweet sounds she made, although he tried not to think about that. 

She unhooked her leg from his shoulder and pushed herself into a seated position, cupping his jaw to pull him closer. “You’re pretty good at that,” she panted, pressing a kiss to his mouth, unphased by the slick that coated the lower half of his face. 

Nikolai got to his feet, letting his teeth graze against her bottom lip before he straightened up fully, separating reluctantly so he could kick off his boots and finally rid himself of the rest of his clothes. “I’m good at lots of things,” he promised. 

Helena moved toward the head of the mattress, watching him, face flushed pink high on her cheekbones and hair a mess already. Her dark eyes dipped down his chest, thighs pressing together when he finally freed his cock. He wanted to imprint the image of her looking at him like that on the back of his eyelids, so he could see it every time he blinked for the rest of his life. Her dark eyes were hot and hungry, for him. That morning, this was a distant, far off fantasy that lingered in the back of his mind, and now she was here, laying naked before him, every inch of her lean, muscular, scarred up body on display, and she wanted him. 

“Are you going to stand there all night, or are you going to come over here and show me what else you’re good at?” she asked. 

“I am just appreciating the view,” he laughed, climbing onto the bed beside her. “It’s one I’d very much like to remember.”

“Flatterer,” she accused, curling into his arms for another kiss. 

He hummed against her mouth, agreeing, pulling her on top of him, legs on either side of his waist. He was glad she was as eager to lock lips as he was— He could never get tired of the spit-slicked slide of her mouth against his, the swipe of her tongue against his own, like she was as desperate to devour him as he was her. He reached around her hips to take himself in hand, precum easing the glide of his first few rough, desperate strokes. 

“Koyla,” she whined against his mouth, angling her hips back. 

“You want me?” he asked, tapping the head of his cock against her core, grinning when she inched backward, chasing it when he pulled back again. 

“Yes,” she panted. “Please.”

Who was he to deny her? He rubbed himself against her dripping folds again, and she pitched herself backward, taking him to the hilt in one smooth movement. He groaned, fighting off the urge to come just like that, at the first molten clench of her cunt around him, fingers digging into her hips to hold her still while he adjusted. 

Lena fought his grip, grinding her clit down against him, desperate for friction and movement. Nikolai lost the battle shamefully quick, an orgasm pulsing through him before he could do more than pant out her name, holding her down against him as he came inside her, eyes screwed tight. 

He pulled in a shuddering breath, wincing. “Shit. Sorry.”

Lena just laughed, not an ounce of judgment or disappointment in the sound. “You need a minute?” she asked, pushing back up onto her knees, their hips still pressed flush together. Her cunt pulsed around him, and, blessedly, his cock responded with enthusiasm, staying hard. She rocked back and forth, hands braced against his chest as she fucked herself slowly on him, drawing each movement out excruciatingly slow, a teasing smile on her lips. She squeezed around him again, and he could help but groan, rutting up into her reflexively. 

“No. No, I will keep going. Sorry.” He pulled her down against his chest and rolled them so that he was on top. Coming too early once was bad enough, he couldn’t risk it happening a second time. He folded her legs up and thrust into her slow, making sure that she felt every inch of him drag across that spongy, sensitive spot that he had found with his fingers earlier. 

Lena hooked her legs around his waist, pressing her palms against the headboard to give herself some leverage to meet his movements, encouraging him to pick up his pace. He followed her cue, pistoning into her soaked pussy harder and faster, his balls slapping against her ass, coupling with the wet sound of his cock moving in and out of her and the little whimpers that left her lips with every thrust. He dropped down to his forearms, feeling tension building inside him again, trying to keep his reaction in check, and the change in angle made her cry out. She let go of the headboard and clung to his shoulders instead, burying her face against his neck. 

“Kolya,” she gasped into his ear. “I’m close.”

He knew that the best thing he could do was keep to the same rhythm, so he continued the relentless pace, shifting his wieght to one arm so he could reach between them, rubbing a tight circle around her clit. He legs squeezed tight around him, her cunt fluttering around his cock. She bit down on his shoulder, groaning against his skin, nails digging into his back.  His own release came quickly, the tension snapping as he spilled inside her for the second time. He rutted against her until her cunt relented, loosening around him. 

“Fuck,” he said, pressing his forehead to hers, breathing hard. “You’re so beautiful. Next time I need to see your face, yes?”

That teasing, fox-like grin returned. “Next time?”

“Give me, five, ten minutes,” he panted. “I’m good for it.” 

She laughed, pushing him over onto the bed and curling into him, her head on his shoulder, her legs tangled up with his. She made a soft, contented noise, running her fingers through the sweaty curls of hair on his chest, her expression turning dazed and thoughtful as she relaxed in his arms. He smoothed her hair back from her face, kissing the top of her head affectionately. 

"You flown a helo yet?” she asked. “I could take you up tomorrow, if you want. There’s one on the ship." The change of subject was abrupt, but he knew her well enough to recognize her tactics when she got too close to an emotion. 

"I would like that.” 

“Good. Me too.”

Nikolai sighed, tilting Lena’s chin up for another proper kiss. He would spend every moment he could by her side, for as long as she would let him, in the air or on solid ground. “Will you be in town again soon?” he asked hopefully. 

“I haven’t even left yet,” she said, laughing. 

“I wish you wouldn’t.”

She bit her lip, cheeks turning pinker, her eyes filled with something shining and hopeful and sweet, something that settled under his ribs, curling up in his chest and purring like a contented cat. “I wish I didn’t have to.”

“Next time, stay longer.” 

“I will,” she promised. “And yes, soon.”

He didn’t expect more than that. Couldn’t, knowing her. But it was enough. 

Maybe Copenhagen wasn’t so bad after all.