#im either too high or his hips are obscene

[lustbile]

WayV comeback when? 😭😩 I keep binge watching Ten and Xiaojun Famcams from like 3 years ago when they were having fanmeetings in China. I miss them so much *^* Simping so hard on Xiaojun because of that one fancam where he covered Ten's part in Take Off. Btw I am your new reader only been following you for like a month and I really like your writing 😩💙 who is your favorite member???

If you take blurb request, can you write about Alpha Xiaojun + rough sex (not super rough but rough enough, idk what I am saying) + Omega Reader who is in heat and triggers his rut..He ends up knoting inside and giving mate mark to the omega. + Fluffy aftercare (bc why not) as they can't seperate for an hour because of the knot they just cuddle the whole time and sweet kisses and all. They both are like already in relationship btw. I am sorry if my request is too detailed and weird ⚫👄⚫

I know!!! I miss wayv so bad man :/ but thank you for following and reading my stuff! Im assuming you mean specifically a wayv bias, but I don’t really feel like I have one right now and its probably because its been so long since they’ve had a comeback, but id say maybe yangyang?

and ive never written an abo thing and i haven’t really read any in a long time either, but I hope you like it!

Warnings: everything requested, mentions of blood

——

You groan softly as Xiaojun’s hands run up your heated skin, his fingers drumming against your ribs as he presses down to hold you still. You twitch wildly beneath him, your thighs shifting in a desperate attempt to get some form of friction, and you feel a hungry need to snap at him when he smiles in amusement. 

“Always so high strung,” he teases, his voice tense as he lets his wild eyes follow the bead of sweat that rolls down the center of your bare chest, “don’t know what I’m going to do with you.”

“Fuck me,” you command, your harsh tone making him huff in laughter. You move your ankles to hook at the back of his thighs, trying to pull him closer to you, but all you get in response is him reaching to roughly tug at your nipple. 

You whimper loudly as he pulls at your skin, your back arching away from the bed. You grit your teeth painfully, and the ache in your core intensifies, but before you can let the rude thoughts that swim through your mind slip off your tongue, you feel his length bump gently against your clit. 

You almost howl when he tilts his hips towards you, his length dragging through the slick that drips obscenely from your body, and when he catches just slightly against your entrance, you start babbling out desperate pleas of his name. 

“I can’t,” you start, choking slightly as you move your hands to claw at his arm, “please fucking please, I need it so bad.”

You watch as his eyebrows thread together tightly, his resolve slipping as your hips jump to grind against him sloppily. He wants to keep holding back, the enjoyment he gets from seeing you like this is too much for him to explain, but the heat that grows in his own belly becomes almost unbearable. 

You’re still mindlessly mumbling when he finally pushes into you, his hips stuttering and his hands roughly groping your skin as he fills you completely with one thrust. The cry you let out bounces off the walls and around him, and he groans in pain as your nails sink deeper into his skin. 

He doesn’t give you anytime to adjust to the way he’s seated inside you, his actions dwindling not only your patience, but his as well, and before you can catch your breath, he leans forward to push his face against the damp skin of your neck and slams his hips into your roughly. 

You flutter around him wildly, your eyes rolling back as you try to anchor yourself back to reality. You feel your arousal drip and smear across your skin, and the sound of your skin meeting his blares in your ears and pulls a deep growling noise from your chest. 

The sensitivity and heat that licks at your body makes you dizzy, the way his pelvis brushes against your clit with every thrust making and overwhelming pleasure overtake your senses. You feel him lapping at the skin below your jaw, and when his hands smooth down your sides until they wrap around the back of your knees, he pulls your legs further apart until you can feel his knot catching on your entrance with his every move. 

“Need,” you whine in his ears, his teeth nipping at your skin blurring your thoughts and making a shiver roll up your spine, “need it, alpha.”

He hisses your name as you clench around him, his fingers pressing harshly into your skin as he shifts his hips slightly. He pushes more, grinding into you between thrusts, and when his swelling knot finally sinks into you, he swears loudly as if in anger. 

Your orgasm builds too quickly for you to handle or to warn him, your breath coming out in ragged pants as you squirm under his weight. You feel your body sucking him in, trying to keep him deep inside you every time his knot slips out, and as you tilt your head down to sink your teeth into his shoulder, you loudly sob around his flesh. 

Even with him flush against you, you want him closer. Your body begs for him to sink into you completely, and when he bites harshly at your throat, you get your wish. 

Pleasure rushes over you violently as his sharp teeth break your skin, a pained howled flying from your lungs as tears stream down your face. You feel his hips still against you, his knot swelling inside you and locking you together as you feel him start to come along with you, and as your vision blurs, your thighs trying to fight to slam closed around his waist. 

Your moans and whines become quiet whimpers as you shutter against him, his tongue dipping out to lick at the trickles of blood that slip from the shallow cuts he left behind. He lets go of your legs, letting you wrap them around him tightly, and as he slips his arms under your curved back, he pulls you against his chest while you orgasm continues to wrack through your body. 

You sigh softly as he pulls you further up your bed, your head landing on your pillow as you curl around him and shake. The way he stays inside you, shifting as he moves you to lay on your sides, makes your hips tilt and writhe as your body battles the need for relief and more stimulation. 

His voice sounds distant even as he whispers praises into your ear, your mind still fuzzy as he coaxes you to lean your forehead against his chest with his hand pressing at the base of your skull, and as your breathing settles into a more natural pattern, he presses kisses across your temple to your hairline. 

You’re still curled against him after it feels like eons have passed, your hands grabbing at him as he presses his lips against yours. You feel heat start licking at your weak body again, your need becoming more intense as you settle deeper into his chest, but you try to stay relaxed as pets soothingly at your skin. You want him more, to feel every inch of him every second of the day, but as the marks on your throat sting and burn dully, you have to remind your still whirring mind that he’s all yours forever.

#Nct smut #wayv smut #Xiaojun smut #nct blurb #wayv blurb #ask

[yusukenui]

.

#why the fck did fe3h give gilbert such birthing hips ☠☠☠ #im either too high or his hips are obscene #annette i know the real reason ur dads been hiding u since the kingdoms incident and im sorry to tell u its not heroic.. #annette the child of mpreg i just know it #its the B support w alois... it does a weird pan out shot and hes just standing there... menacingly #but his hips are so slutty i stopped playing an hr ago but i cant stop thinking abt it #this is genuimely the funniest thing to me rn 😭 #manuelas figure is more solid than his... what IS going on under those robes bro #losing my mind i wish i had taken a ss so i could look at it in the morning #maybe its the alois effect... standing next to him in regular clothes while bro goes about in shining armor has got to give the viewer some #sort of psychic damage i swear 😭 #i appreciate alois moderating his tone during this support to show he learned something from girlberts previous fishing lessons tho.. 🥺 #i used to dislike his character so much for being just a loud knight but he is such an uncle.. i adore him #gilbert and seteth reprimand all these grownup nobles w no manners and uncle alois restores their spirits w his manners :( #i like the fe3h system a lot... in that of... that theyre not kids but they also kind of are... #kids with big duties :( .. sylvain #felix 🥺.. mercie 😭 #this was abt gilberts hips 😭😭😭😭😭😭 #the nerd talks #hoo boy #UM

[noodlecupcakeswritings]

A Test of Faith - Chapter 4 (A Priest AU) Kylo RenxOC)

Father Ren has been tasked with looking after the new arrival Sister Cora. Is it lust in the air or a test from God?

Look, this fic is pure fucking depraved priest kink porn. There is no plot. Just porn. I have no excuse. And sorry for starting yet another fic when I already have ongoing ones…but I couldn’t get this idea out of my head. Thanks to @ohiobluetip​ for inspiring this one, she’s a babe and you should check out her work.

Please leave comments, kudos and reblogs if you like it. Let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist.

Warnings: NSFW, DUB CON/NON CON, Forced blowjobs, Oral sex, Confessional sex, Face fucking, Crying, Dirty talk, Sinning, comparison of cum to the holy sacrament...

Chapter 4

Cora Ardmore

The sun was high and there was a comforting cool breeze as The Bishop and I walked through the abbeys gardens. Whilst Snoke was old, he still insisted on going for a daily walk with some company. I was happy to aid him and take it slow for him. It offered me a chance to speak with him privately, to tell him about Father Ren. Snoke had the power to cast him out of the church if he wished. Hopefully, he would believe me. We stopped under the shade of the apple tree’s, Snoke seemed a little out of breath. “I apologize for not catching up with you sooner Sister, I hope you have settled in here well,” Snoke spoke. “It's quite alright your excellency. This is already starting to feel like home.”

“Good, Im glad to hear it. And did Father Ren offer you much help and guidance upon your arrival?” I knew I should tell him; it was practically on the tip of my tongue when we were interrupted by none other than Ren himself. He kneeled before Snoke and kissed his ring out of respect before rising again. “Father we were just talking about you,” Snoke smiled. I avoided Ren’s gaze, looking anywhere but at him. Guilt ate away at me. I’d had my chance to say something and now it was gone. But I would get another chance tonight in the confessional with Father Hux. And there would be no way Ren could interrupt a confessional.

“Good afternoon, Sister,” Ren greeted me, smiling softly. I returned the pleasantry's only to avoid questioning from Snoke. It burned to be in Ren’s presence, reminded me of my sin, how weak I had been. Yet the more I thought about what we had done…how good his fingers had felt inside of me…heat spread across my cheeks and between my legs. So caught up in my thoughts, I didn't realize that Snoke and Ren were looking at me as if they’d just asked me a question. “Sister?” Snoke asked. I needed to make up an excuse and fast; I needed to remove myself from this situation quickly. “Sorry, your excellency. I’m not feeling well. Perhaps it's the heat. Please excuse me,” I muttered.

“Of course, Sister. Father Ren will accompany me from here. Rest,” Snoke replied. I kneeled to kiss his ring, feeling Ren’s gaze on me the entire time. I could only imagine the sinful thoughts running through his head. Getting to my feet, I hurried off to my quarters, closing the door behind me and leaning against it for a few moments. Closing my eyes, I took a few deep breaths, trying to think of anything but Ren's fingers. Like a woman possessed, I squeezed my breasts through my habit, gasping at the sensation. Ren’s hands were so big, he’d cover them easily. No, I would not be tempted. I forced my hands back down to my sides, my gaze falling to the cross on my wall. God would be ashamed of me for succumbing to these sinful desires. I just had to last till tonight where I would confess my sins and Ren’s.

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

Night had fallen, and the abbey was silent and still. The candles flickered, casting shadows across the pews. I closed the door of the confessional behind me and waited. Father Hux should be next door, ready to release me from the burden of my sins. There was only silence. Perhaps he was running a little late. The door in front of me burst open and there blocking any chance of escape was Father Ren. I was a rabbit trapped in a fox's lair. Rising from my seat, I had to think quickly. I could either try to force my way out or I could scream. But Ren would overpower me easily. I opened my mouth to scream, but Ren was quicker. He forced himself on me, covering my mouth with his hand. My eyes filled with tears as he closed the door behind him, trapping me in here with him.

“If I take my hand away, will you scream?” He asked, his tone hushed. I shook my head, accepting my fate. His body pressed up against mine, sandwiching me between him and the wall. Having him this close again was dizzying. Cautiously Ren takes his hand away only to replace it with his lips, kissing me hard and possessive, like he wants to claim me. Finally he pulls away, allowing me to breathe. Cupping my cheek, he wipes away my tears with his thumb. “W-where's Father Hux?” I asked. “I convinced him I would take over his duties for tonight. He doesn’t get to have you all to himself, not when you're mine.” He thought Hux, and I were together? No, he thought, we would have done something. Ren was so blinded by his lust for me he didn't want me near another man.

“Father…there's nothing between Father Hux and I,” I stated. “Because you're mine.” His hands moved up to my shoulders and pushed me down on to the wooden bench. Ren towered over me, looking over me as if he were deciding what to do next. Unbuttoning his cassock at his waist, he reached inside and pulled out his large, fully hard cock. I averted my gaze to the floor, refusing to look at it. In the tight confines of the confessional it was closer than I would have liked. Father Ren grabbed a handful of my veil and hair, forcing me to look at it. With his free hand, he traced my lips with the head of his cock. “Prove it. Prove your mine,” he demanded.

Fresh tears rolled down my cheeks. What choice did I have? Opening my mouth, he forced me down onto his cock. Ren shuddered at the feeling of my warm wet mouth around his cock. Tightening his grip on my habit, he pushed me further down, making me choke and gag around the head of his cock as it hit my throat. He groaned at the feeling, holding me there for a few moments before finally pulling me off and allowing me to breathe. “Such a beautiful mouth Sister, God clearly intended for it be used like this,” Ren spoke, his voice lower and breathier. I wanted to shake my head at him, but before I had the chance, he pushed his cock back into my mouth. I whimpered, the sound muffled. Ren gently rocked his hips against my face, fucking my mouth.

“Perhaps I have found heaven in your mouth, Sister, or maybe I’ll find it between your legs.” He grunted. Another heat had settled between my legs. I was sickened by how my body was reacting to him using me. Ren’s thrusts became harder, now fucking my throat. The sound of me gagging was so obscene and far too loud. If someone walked past, they would surely hear it. Ren didn't seem to have the same fear as me, moaning and cursing with every movement of his hips. His hips suddenly stilled, and he gasped as a warm salty liquid coated my tongue. Pulling his cock from my mouth, he gripped my jaw, making me look up at him. “Swallow my cum, Sister, swallow it like you would the holy sacrament,” Ren ordered with a smirk. Swallowing the substance caused my body to shudder. The taste was not pleasant. “Show me it's all gone,” He directed.

I opened my mouth for him once more, for him to inspect. Satisfied that I’d swallowed his sin he released his grip on my jaw. Ren tucked himself away before getting on his knees before me. “Does it ache again, Sister? Between your legs?” He asked. “N-no, Father.” I lied. I knew I should have put up more of a fight, but instead I remained still. Ren lifted my skirt and pushed my legs open. He pressed his nose to my clothed heat, inhaling my scent. Ren hummed hungrily as if it were something good cooking in the kitchens. The ache was turning into a throb, desperate for his touch. He pulled my panties off, inspecting them with a soft smirk. “Your wet, Sister. You can pretend you didn’t want to suck my cock all you want but heres all the evidence I need that you liked it.”

Ren pulled me forward more before diving between my legs. His tongue ran up from my hole to my clit, moaning at my taste. I too moaned at the feeling of his tongue. “I knew you’d taste good. As sweet as honey,” He mused. “Please Father. M-more, please.” I pleaded. The ache was too much to bear anymore; I needed him regardless of right and wrong. Ren smiled before lapping at my juices once more. His tongue circled my clit, forcing a loud moan from me. I covered my mouth with my hand, afraid of being caught whilst my other hand fisted his hair, pressing him closer. I felt him smirk against me, groaning at my taste. The sounds he made were loud, hungry and desperate. “Father…oh…Father we could be caught,” I warned, my voice shaky.

I didn't want him to stop, but I also didn't want to be caught. Sound carried easily in this confined space. Ren slipped two fingers into me, making me forget about my anxieties. Yes, this is what I needed. If he was worried about being caught he didn't show it, forcing louder moans from me as he curled his fingers. My thighs were shaking, my stomach muscles getting tighter as that feeling built again. “Please, Father,” I begged again. Ren continued, not showing any signs of slowing. A few more flicks of his tongue across my clit and I was cumming apart at the seams for him. Every single one of my nerve endings were singing with pleasure as he worked me through my orgasm. I gasped and whined his name, my hips bucking for more.

Ren cleaned me up with his tongue before sucking his fingers clean once more with a satisfied groan. His lips were shiny with spit and my juices. He put my skirt back into place and pulled me to my feet. “I have found heaven between your legs, Sister,” he concluded. He kissed me, making me taste myself on his tongue. One of his arms locked around my waist, pulling me flush against him. “I want more. I want all of you. Please, Sister, let me have you,” Ren implored. “Not tonight, Father. We’ve already risked so much in here. Please let me go.” I hoped I didn't sound as afraid as I felt. I needed him to release me. My strength had failed me once more, and I wanted to be as far away from him as possible.

For a moment I thought he wouldn't let me go, but his grip on me loosened gradually. Relief filled me, and he allowed me to leave the confessional first. I didn't run until I knew I would be out of sight. Perhaps a confessional had not been the best course of action. Perhaps the only way we could be relieved of our sins was through punishment.

Taglist: @sweetfictionalworld​​, @sweetsec-93​​, @cltex84​​, @jana-banana-fana​​, @dark-night-sky-99​​, @warriorqueen1991​​, @blackredrose27​​​, @jynzandtonic​​​, @ellelaconiwrites​​​. @bestblondebuddy​​​

#kylo ren angst #kylo ren #kylo ren fic #kylo ren fanfiction #kylo ren fanfic #kylo ren fluff #kylo ren au #kylo ren smut #kylo renxoc #priest kink #priest au #priest Kylo Ren #ben solo #ben solo angst #ben solo fic #ben solo fanfiction #ben solo fanfic #ben solo feels #ben solo fluff #ben solo smut #ben solo au #ben soloxoc #star wars #Star Wars fanfic #Star Wars Fic #star wars fanfiction #star wars feels #star wars fluff #star wars smut #star wars angst

[ssigmas]

quantum entanglement

some sigma/reader smut bc im Thirsty

i headcanon him to be a total service top;;; listen he just wants 2 take care of you

tags: sigma/afab reader, mirror sex, sigma generally being Very Loving and Affectionate

Out of all the requests Siebren could have made of you, this wasn't exactly what you were expecting.His initial embarrassment upon asking, as well as his insistence on discussing it in his quarters, should have been enough clue for you to realize it would be out of the ordinary.

Still, even though it had been a relatively tame request by normal standards, it was definitely encroaching in an area neither of you had breached together before.

You sit astride Siebren's lap, stripped down to nothing, legs hooked over his own spread thighs. The mirror in front of you exposes everything, especially your flushed face, and it makes you feel vulnerable.

Siebren, damn him, remains fully clothed in his casual wear.

You hide your rapidly reddening face behind your hands, squirming in his hold. He had requested specifically that you watch yourself in the mirror, but that...it seems impossible now, a daunting task that you can’t hope to follow through with. “Siebren,” you half-whisper, half-whine, voice quivering on the syllables. You feel his much larger hands engulf yours, lips brushing over the shell of your ear.

“Shh, now now. Don’t hide away, not from me.” He coaxes your hands away from your face, lacing your fingers together. You keep your eyes shut against your inevitable reflection and instead turn to hide your face in his shoulder. 

“I can’t,” you breathe out, and you hate how whiny you sound, but you can’t help it. Embarrassment sits heavy on your bones and causes heat to spread from your chest up to the tips of your ears. “Can’t, Siebren, please…”

He shushes you again. “Of course you can,” he assures you. A hand comes and cups your face, turns it upward so you can meet his lips. The other remains entwined with yours, and slowly he calms your racing thoughts, steadies your heart with languid and loving kisses.

The hand on your cheek drops and instead rests lightly on your neck, thumb against your pulsepoint. Surely, you think, he can feel the way it hammers against your skin, how...affected he makes you.

The hand slides lower, across your clavicles, down your breastbone, and stops at your chest. He pinches a nipple between his fingers and you arch into his touch, breath hitching in your throat. His hand slides from your grasp, joins his other on your chest, and you grab desperately at his muscled bicep.

“Sieb...Sss…ahh…” He teases both of your nipples, rolls them beneath his thumbs. You writhe in his grasp, unable to hold back the soft, choked sounds of pleasure he pulls out of you. 

He sucks your lower lip between his teeth before finally pulling away, though his face remains just inches from your own. “Look at yourself,” he pleads quietly, brushing a kiss to your temple.

Reluctantly, you turn your head forward and open your eyes. For a split second, you can hardly recognize yourself. The you in the mirror looks ruined with your kiss-swollen lips and rosy red cheeks, eyes half-lidded in pleasure. If this was how you looked just kissing him... You turn your head away again, breathing out a whine. “I’m...I’m so -”

“Stunning,” Siebren supplies, placing hot, open-mouthed kisses to your neck. You squirm and huff out a laugh.

“Not the word I would have used.”

“No?” He latches onto a patch of skin just below your ear, teeth grazing the skin with promises to come. “Oh, but liefje, you make the most adorable expressions.”

You don’t know how to tell him that that’s the problem, that you can’t take yourself looking so wanton and full of lust, not when Siebren seems to genuinely want you to see yourself as he does.

You feel him gently grip your chin, turning your face back toward the front. “Please,” he murmurs. “I want you to watch as I unravel you in my hands. You look so beautiful when I wreck you.”

God, oh fuck. His voice drips with self-assuredness and desire, dropped down an octave lower than usual, and you feel heat pool in your gut even as a new flush rises to your cheeks. Where had his earlier embarrassment gone? Why can’t you be so collected about this whole thing?

You open your eyes and catch Siebren staring at your reflection. His hands come to rest on either side of your ribcage, and slowly, they ghost lower, down to your hips, thumbs caressing your soft skin. 

“Siebren,” you mumble, struggling to keep your gaze on the mirror. “Siebren, please, I…”

He kisses the side of your head, your cheek, down to your jaw. “Yes?” he questions. He seems almost eager to please you, his hands running up and down your hipbones. “Ask, my dear, and it’s yours.”

Verbalizing what you want is somehow more embarrassing than watching yourself come undone. You roll  your hips into his touch, hoping he’ll catch on, but Siebren does nothing more than continue to stare at you, waiting. Watching.

“Please, I want - I…” You stop, purse your lips. All the phrases that come to mind (finger me, I want you inside me, please make me come) are too dirty for you to say without stuttering through it. “Touch me?” you settle on lamely, it coming out more of a question than a request.

Siebren merely chuckles, though not unkindly. “Oh, mijn sterretje, are we not already touching?” You fight down another bout of embarrassment. You’re touching quite a good deal, in fact. There’s not a part of your body that isn’t entangled with Sigma’s, save for the one spot that’s begging for attention. He seems to take pity on you, however, and a hand descends to your soft mound. He drags his middle finger lightly across your folds, and in the mirror you can see how your slick gathers on his digit and strings between you.

“So wet.” He continues to slowly glide his finger against you, back and forth, teasing. “I’ve barely touched you, and you’re dripping for me.” 

This time, you do close your eyes, giving into the urge to shy away again. “Of course,” you mumble, trying to hide your face against him. “It’s you. Of course I’m so…” You can’t find the words, but evidently you don’t have to, as you feel his hand still against you for a moment. Siebren’s other hand finds your chin again, pulls you a little higher so he can press a soft kiss to your lips. You feel, rather than see, the warmth of his smile.

“How flattering,” he murmurs, “to have such a young thing so affected by me.” His hand resumes its earlier actions, though now it focuses on your clit, drawing tight circles around it. Your hips buck into his touch, a silent gasp leaving your lips. One hand stretches behind you to hook onto Siebren’s neck, and the other desperately searches for something else to hang on to. He beats you to it, interlocking your fingers together as he pulls your arm across your chest. Here, in this position, your back arches high into the stretch, upper half pulled against his shoulders, legs held in place by his own. 

You tuck your head into his neck, inhale the smell of his cologne. There are so many points of contact between you now that you feel utterly surrounded and protected. You feel him breathe a laugh against your cheek. 

“Look at yourself,” he urges softly, and you do. Your eyes are drawn to your pussy, where his fingers are slick with your juices. When he sees you watching, he spreads you open with his fingers, an action so obscene that it causes you to whimper and fruitlessly try to close your legs.

“S-Siebren!”

He either doesn’t hear or doesn’t care about the admonishment, his eyes trained on your pussy, on the way your clit is framed by his first two fingers.

“Lovely,” he breathes, and his voice carries the same tone of awe as if he was staring out into the vast reaches of space. “You’re so lovely, look at yourself, look at how wet you are.” He effortlessly slides a finger into you, and then a second. His fingers are big, bigger than yours, and yet this feels like no intrusion at all. You rut uselessly into his hand, begging with your body for a question you don’t know how to ask.

Siebren knows the answer though. It seems like he always does when it comes to you. Slowly, he begins to thrust his fingers, angling his wrist so that he grazes your clit with every stroke. You writhe in his grasp, shuddering through a moan as pleasure courses through your body. His fingers disappear so easily into you, and for once you find it hard to tear your gaze away. You’re amazed that they even fit inside you, though with the wet shlick shlick of your fluids you can hardly be surprised. 

“You take me so well,” Siebren murmurs. A third finger joins his others, stretching you slowly, until he can move his fingers in unison. “All right?” he asks. His other hand squeezes yours comfortingly, and you squeeze back.

You feel so full, so impossibly warm. “Yes,” you hiss, rolling your hips to encourage him to move. He starts up a gentle rhythm, and through the mirror you can tell his gaze is trained on the place where his fingers vanish into you. “Full,” you mumble, lips closing off a whimper. “I’m  - ahh...Siebren, I need - “

He kisses the side of your face sloppily. “You’re doing so good,” he praises. “So full of me, so perfect…” He works his fingers faster, curls their tips just slightly, and your breath hitches on a gasp that falls to a needy moan. “That’s it,” he says, sounding out of breath. “Yes, lose yourself, focus on me, on me.”

Your orgasm builds with each fervent breath, with each stroke of his hand, and you’re reduced to a panting mess, hips rolling desperately. Unbidden, your eyes close as you focus on your growing pleasure. Your world shrinks down to a pinpoint of pleasure, to nothing but Siebren, and you can no longer contain your constant half-cries and whimpers. You feel him draw you closer, closer, wrapped so tightly against him you think you might drown in his affections.

“Please, mijn schatje,” he whispers, breath gliding hot across your neck. “Sing for me.”

And you do.

Warmth spreads from your centre down through your toes. You clench around his fingers as your body goes taut, and you can’t hold back the needy, uncontrolled whine that rips itself from your throat as Siebren works you through your orgasm, murmuring unintelligible phrases against your sweaty skin.

Slowly, slowly, you come down from your climax, and yet he continues to thrust his fingers inside you lazily.  “You’re gorgeous,” he cooes, and when you open your eyes you can see the love written plainly on his face as he stares at your reflection. “Gorgeous, my darling, mijn liefje, mine, all mine.” He dissolves into hushed tones, Dutch rolling off his tongue sickly-sweet. He could be mistaken for saying lewd things if not for his tone, so reverent and loving, and even with the language barrier you know he’s singing your praises. 

You lay boneless in his lap, no energy to even bring heat to your face at how debauched you look. Hair wild, love bites discoloring your skin, lips and thighs glistening with liquid. Part of you wants to respond to Siebren’s continued touches, but he’s fast approaching overstimulation. You make a noise low in your throat, hand falling from behind his neck to paw at his forearm.

“Sorry, sorry,” he apologizes. He draws his fingers from you, slick pooling between them. He waits until you catch his eye in the mirror before he brings his soaked hand to his mouth, where his tongue begins to lave over his digits. You squirm under the intensity of his gaze as he licks his fingers clean, feeling heat rush to your face all over again.

“Delicious.”

#.txt #sigma #siebren de kuiper #sigma x reader #overwatch #writing #hes so big pls i just wanna sit in his lap jskfjskf #also i wish please was a little more elegant in dutch #like bitte in german #its like alsjeblieft or something sjfjsfjj #idk dutch but i have wiktionary and thats the next best thing #YES sigma overuses petnames NO i will not unheadcanon this #also im still trying to get a feel for his voice so bear with me lol #anyway

[hermannsthumb]

OHMYGOD FOR THE HALLOWEEN PROMPT THE -IM THE ONLY ONE WHO GETS YOUR COSTUME AND THAT MAKES YOU WANT TO TEAR OFF MY CLOTHES- is CHEFS KISS on bro it works either way

from list of halloween prompts here

HELL YES!!! HAPPY HALLOWEEN EVERYONE heres some newt and hermann fucking. 18+ not sfw below cut

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Things happen with Newton, Hermann’s learned to understand, as if Newton himself were a great, tumbling human avalanche: they happen very fast, all at once, and typically with a great deal of destruction left in their wake. Newton never plans in advance. Newton throws himself, spur of the moment, into every idea he has. Newton has never cared about insignificant little things like repercussions. Newton lives in the now.

In a way, it’s admirable.

In other ways--the way, for example, Newton has thrust a hand down Hermann’s trousers, his tongue down Hermann’s throat--it’s wildly overwhelming.

One hour ago, they were at a Shatterdome Halloween party, and Newton strolled in wearing the most absurd costume Hermann had ever seen: skimpy monk robes, of all things, the skirt cropped ridiculously short, slit up the side, the neck deep-cut, hood pulled up. A small apron was tied over that. He held a large potted plant.

“How’s the party so far?” he called over to Hermann.

Hermann ogled, of course. He also pretended he wasn’t ogling. Newton had very nice legs--stocky, sturdy, thick, ending in very soft thighs--and Hermann often liked to imagine what they would look like wrapped around Hermann’s waist, or perhaps spread wide and lifted up high, or what Hermann’s fingers would look like splayed across one of those soft thighs. It was difficult to look at Newton (and his prominently displayed legs) now and not immediately begin to fantasize. “Hm,” Hermann said, eloquently.

Newton strode over to him. He was already a cocky little bastard as is, but Halloween always gave him an extra level of confidence that sent his ego skyrocketing through the roof. God help them all. “What are you supposed to be?” he said. “I don’t recognize your costume.”

This was because Hermann was not wearing a costume. Hermann never wore a costume, not unless it was under duress (typically Newton-applied duress), and this was the first year in recent memory no one made him put on Vulcan ears or a Sherlock Holmes hat. “I’m a physicist,” Hermann said.

“You’re so lame,” Newton said. He smoothed his hand over his skirt and grinned, clearly eager to sway the conversation topic over to himself. It was why, after all, he wore costumes like this every year he could: for the attention. He usually got it. “I bet you can’t guess mine. No one’s been able to.”

Hermann seized the chance to stare at Newton’s legs some more. (One thing that was nice about the skirt was that Hermann wouldn’t have to waste time stripping Newton out of a bunch of layers--he could just lift it up. Hypothetically, of course.) When he finally dragged his eyes away and up to the potted plant, a closer inspection revealed it was a common pea plant. “Oh,” Hermann said. A great classic costume of Halloween--‘slutty’, as Newton would say, variations on everything. “I see. You’re meant to be an--ah--loose Gregor Mendel. How charming.” 

Newton’s grin slipped away. “Holy shit,” he said.

This excited Newton, for some reason, and he was flinging himself at Hermann (to Hermann’s pleased bewilderment) no more than five minutes later, with pleads for Hermann to call him loose again, among a host of other rather degrading terms, and assuring Hermann that he was an expert on breeding and that he’d be more than happy to give Hermann a demonstration.

“I think that’s somewhat of a biological impossibility for us,” Hermann told him, but this was when Newton shoved his hand down Hermann’s trousers, and Hermann did not feel much like arguing the point from then on.

“Don’t you think,” he says now, “we ought to go one of our quarters? For more--” He groans, and gives Newton’s hair a sharp tug, “--oh, hell, for more privacy? You’re good at this.”

“Mm,” Newton agrees. He pulls off of Hermann’s prick for only a moment, long enough only to say “No, I’m good here” and press a sloppy kiss to the tip. Then he sucks him back down, deep enough his nose brushes Hermann’s pubic hair. By Jove--he is good at this.

The supply closet is too dark for Hermann to properly see Newton, beyond the vaguest shape of his body and the occasional glint of his glasses in the small bit of light from the crack under the door. It’s a bit of a shame, really; Hermann would like to see him. He would like to burn the image of Newton on his knees with his incessantly running mouth finally stuffed full into his brain forever. “Newton,” he says, “ah, I would--I would prefer it.” He finally admits, a little shyly, “I would like to see you. And touch you.” He would also like to get the chance to wrap those legs around him, and he’s not sure they’d be able to do it here without knocking a great deal of cleaning products over and causing a mess.

Newton pops off again. “You’re adorable,” he laughs. His voice is already a little cracked from the blowjob. “Okay, fine. Then I can tear your ugly fucking clothes off of you already.” A kiss to the base of his prick. “Mine or yours, baby?”

“Baby,” Hermann echoes, faintly. Newton flicks his tongue over him again, and Hermann’s knees start to wobble dangerously. His sweaty hand slips on his cane. “Guh--Newton, I said--”

“Couldn’t help it,” Newton says. “You sound so funny. Okay, mine it is, but I’m totally putting on the spooky Halloween sound effects record.”

Newton was not kidding. Hermann manages to tune it out eventually, though the occasional witch cackle still makes him jump.

“Grab my ass,” Newton urges into his mouth. He’s a bit over-eager when it comes to kissing, too much teeth and tongue, not enough finesse. Twice he’s bitten Hermann’s tongue instead of his lip. “Mm, wait, no, under the robe, under it. Don’t be shy, dude, you just had your dick--”

“Okay,” Hermann says. He obeys. Newton gives a wanton moan.

“Fuck yeah,” he whimpers. He sits up to roll their hips together (Hermann, still achingly hard from their closet tryst, Newton getting there as well) while Hermann continues to squeeze at his round rear, and then unceremoniously rips Hermann’s shirt open. A button pings off the glass of water on Newton’s side table; the rest go who-knows where else. Hermann can’t say he’s too upset. “You’re so good at this. Fuck.”

“I’m just laying here,” Hermann says.

“It’s hot,” Newton says. He rips the front of his own robes open a bit wider, giving Hermann a glimpse of two hard pink nipples, then begins to slip down Hermann’s body. Hermann’s prick is back in his mouth and then down his throat in moments. The record switches to chains rattling and ghostly moans.

How strange this all is. “You wanna fuck my pecs?” Newton suddenly says, popping up again. His lips are pink and slick with Hermann’s precome and his own saliva. Hermann notices he’s begun pinching at his nipples with the hand he’s not got wrapped around Hermann. “Then you can jizz on my face.”

“You are obscene,” Hermann wheezes, but his prick gives a very obvious twitch at the thought of a messy, filthy Newton kneeling over him. He’s always harbored secret fantasies of dirtying up his glasses, too. 

Newton grins.

Hermann will admit it’s a strange sensation, but it’s not a bad one, especially not with the gorgeous little grunts Newton is making all the while, the way his pink tongue is poking between his pink lips in concentration. He does not even have to take his robe off for it. “You’re very good at this, too,” Hermann remarks. He thinks Newton is, anyway; he doesn’t have much to compare it too.

“I know,” Newton says. He winks. “Okay, are you gonna come soon? I’m getting kinda--”

Almost on cue, Hermann’s orgasm catches Newton mid-sentence: his release lands on Newton’s chest, neck, and mouth in equal parts, staining his tattoos. Newton blinks. He drops his hands. “Cool,” he says. He adjusts his glasses.

Once he finally has the breath to spare (the record having moved along into Toccata and Fugue in D Minor) Hermann declares “I would like to suck you off under your skirt.”

“Cool,” Newton repeats.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #Anonymous

[whorror-jpeg]

Billy Hargrove: Lady-Killer

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Reader

Summary: the reader has anxiety, but it’s okay. Billy has her back.

Prompts: 25- “What the hell were you thinking?!?” 26- “Here, let me help you.” 82-“Just breath, okay?”

Song: Come on Eileen- Dexys Midnight Runners

Request: Lidi, who is an aNGEL GODDESS asked for this, and I absolutely love her. She’s a beautiful writer, go give her a check! @letmeletmetrashyourlove

Requests Are: Open

Warning(s): cursing, depictions of panic attacks, sexual references, angst, fluff, reader is a Henderson

Word count: 1.2k

Author’s note: as someone with several anxiety disorders, i hope this is portrayed well. I hope you like it! PS THIS WAS REALLY GOOD AND THEN GOOGLE DECIDED TO DELETE LIKE 5 FUCKING PARAGRAPHS AND IM SO ANGRY.

You had met the infamous Billy Hargrove the day he’d walked through Hawkins High. How could you not have? Your locker was directly next to his, not to mention the two classes you’d shared with him.

And honestly? You didn’t understand the fuss over him. The guys either hated him or loved him because of how much of a “lady-killer” he was (Jonathan had called him this, not you, and you nearly choked on the sandwich you were chowing on), and how he ‘dethroned’ Steve Harrington (a boy you’d come to know through your close friend Nancy. He’d never admit, but he was actually slightly upset). The girls either thought he was the hottest guy in town, or the biggest misogynist.

You? You were both. You couldn’t deny how handsome his denim clad everything was, but at the end of the day, it was tiring seeing different girls pushed up right next to and being pinned by his hips. But when he wasn’t being a complete and horny ken doll, he was genuinely nice to you. He’d ask how your day was the times he wasn’t all over a girl, and if Jonathan or Nancy had something to do at lunch, leaving you alone, he’d come sit next to you and you’d share some of your Doritos with him. If you expected him, he’d even gain his own bag at times.

Of course, this gained some negative attention of the girls Billy had been with.

Now it was the time of some girls party Nancy had asked you to go to with her, Jonathan, and Steve. And while you didn’t wanna go, and you’d told Nancy you really thought it was a really bad idea for you to go, here you were, on a stranger’s couch, with a cup of “pure fuel”. In the background, you could hear Billy screaming “Yeah! That’s how you do it, Hawkins!”

You’d chuckled and took a sip of whatever the hell was in the “pure fuel”.

You felt the couch dip beside you. It was Carol, the school’s prettiest girl and your daily harasser. You inhaled, shakily, taking another drink from your cup.

“What are you doing here, (Y/N)? Looking for a quick dick? Where are you friends?”

Her friends chuckled annoyingly at this, “oh, wait, you don’t have any.”

Your breathing quickened, hands getting clammy, eyes watered up. You didn’t notice Billy making his way to you before getting up to leave through the front door.

The cool autumnal air kissed your skin. It was cold, and you really should've brought a jacket, but it helped, even if your body told you it wasn't.

As you walked down the street, aiming for your house, you heard a car rev. Thinking it was another passerby, you ignored it, until you heard it stop and someone open then close the door. You turned, only to be met with your locker neighbor.

“What the hell were you thinking, (Y/N)?! It’s freezing!”

You stared at him not processing what was happening, “you okay? What happened?”

And that’s how Billy Hargrove made you cry without meaning to. You broke down, holding yourself tighter while hyperventilating. Billy made his way to you, took of his well-loved jacket, and put it around you, before hugging you, a hand on the top of your head, holding you to his chest, the other on the small of your back. This Billy, the one without the constant want of sex and substance, was sweet, soft, caring.

“It’s okay, doll, it’s okay. Just breathe, okay? Here, let me help you.”

He guided you to his car, the instant relief of warm air hitting you. Your arms gripped his jacket as he buckled you in, kissing the top of your head.

He kissed the top of your head.

He did that.

But it wasn’t Billy Fuckboy Hargrove, again. He was simply letting you know that he’s got you. And the he cares for you. You looked at him, and smiled. He brought his hand to your cheek, rubbing it with his thumb, before going around and getting in his seat.

“Where to?”

You shrugged, not actually wanting to go back home. Your mom worried about you anyways, with your anxiety, Dustin’s constant disappearances, and Mews not showing up (you knew that rat was dead, but you couldn’t bring yourself to tell her). Billy shrugged jokingly, grinning at you, before driving back into town. You rested your head against the cool window, finally calming down.

The drive was to a cute, open-all-day diner. It’s mint green and baby pink theme hugged your eyes in a welcoming hold. You smiled.

“Wanna grab a coffee sometime?” Billy asked, half joking, half seriously.

You breathily chuckled, “are you asking me on a date while we’re in front of it?”

He gave a hearty laugh, “yeah, I guess I am, Henderson. So, what do you say, huh?”

You nodded, opening the door as Billy got out as well, and walked inside. You were greeted by an older lady, who was too tired for her own good, and sat down at a back booth.

After giving your order, you sat in silence, thinking about what to say, as Billy lit a cigarette. He offered it to you, which you kindly declined.

“I’m sorry about earlier, I just-”

Billy cut you off, “you don’t need to explain, doll. We’ve got our own shit to deal with.” he smirked his normal Billy-esque smirk and took your hand in his.

“Thank you.” you whispered.

“Nah, thank you.”

You frowned at him and he lightly smiled, before receiving his pecan pie and boyishly digging in.

The two of you stayed there for a while, chatting, asking silly question, and eventually opened up to one another. He talked some about his home life, which gave you some insight as to why he craved such obscenities, and you talked about your own home life, and how your brother is doing a little better with the school and his bullies.

He drove you home that night, and walks you to your doorstep.

“Thanks for the ride, Billy.” you looked down, smiling.

“Thanks for the date, (Y/N).” he plays. You look up, and he stares at you for a bit, smiling, before leaning down and kissing your cheek.

“I gotta head home, but I’ll see you at school.”

“Yeah…”

You watched him drive off, taking his time and actually doing the speed limit, before you walked in the house. You were greeted with Dustin and your mother, staring jumping back from the window next to the door and acting like they weren’t spying on you.

“You guys suck.” you laughed.

“You suck! You’re the one hanging out with Billy Hargrove! Letting him get all mushy-mushy with you!” Dustin joked with your mom.

“Mom, make him stop.” you whined jokingly, hugging the both of them.

Dustin started complaining, “Ewww, you smell like him! Hey is that his jacket? Gross!”

You only then realized you still had his jacket on. Well, now you’d have an excuse to talk to him first thing Monday morning.

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #stranger things #jonathan byers #steve harrington #nancy wheeler #ms. henderson #dustin henderson #st

[little-owly]

Ni/nja Br/ian omo, hm? How about this! He has an extremely weak bladder because during a fight early in training, he made a dumb mistake and got hit hard in the stomach. It messed up something internally, so he has trouble telling when he needs to pee because he either can't feel it or feels it really bad. This leads to embarrassing situations where he'll wet himself with a near empty bladder, or be so full without knowing that it just starts gushing out of him

YES I LIVE FOR THISALSO INCREDIBLY UNEDITED IM SORRYit all started during ninja training when he met danny. he was respected in their clan. he was a silent leader. he was both praised and feared. many new trainees, cocky and full of themselves, saw brian as a easy challenge. many learning thats far from the truth as brian defeated them in combat. resulting in sobs and broken bones as he knocked them down a peg.until another silent trainee came alone. bushy brown hair and beard to match. intense brown eyes staring into brian's own ocean blue eyes. the fight starting as other gathered around. danny on the sidelines as brian's assistant, "cmon, ninja brian!! kick his ass!!"the cheers of the crowd silenced as the new trainee brought down a punishing kick to brian's abdomen. the ninja falling to his knees as he, for the first time since he took his vow of silence, screamed in pain. the sound shaking everyone to their core as senior ninjas and danny ran to his side. the new trainee was kicked out immediately for illegal fighting; the rules established before the fight prohibited kicks to the body for this very reason. internal issues. its a long recovery for the ninja as the fellow senior ninjas decide its best if brian...takes some time off to recover. keeping him in the dark about his condition. about his injury -- in fact, brian felt fine within two days. what was the fuss about?during his time in the medical bay of the ninja academy, danny started to pull brian into his plan. his plan for them to runaway and start a band. start a new life. start all over. "brian, i'm telling you!! we'll be rockstars and bang hot chicks night after night!! concert after concert, and be stupid rich!!" danny went on and on about the rich lifestyle of these rockstars. of their sex life, of their expensive cars and homes, of their /respect/.it was also during his time in the medical bay did he hear what the staff, students, and even the trainees had to say about him. "whoever that trainee was should be the replacement for brian.""wow, brian's really losing that whole scary image he had -- it only took me now to realize how old he is.""i don't believe fellow sensei brian is quite fit for this position, perhaps he'd be better with paperwork?""the fight was ridiculous; sensei brian has lost any and all respect from me." the more pity and harsh comments he heard, the more enticing danny's offer was. until one night he agreed. danny packing their things and helping unhook brian from the machines and such to rush out the gates of the ninja academy in the dead of night. unseen, and unnoticed. its after they drove in the beat up van did brian realize what his problem was. falling asleep as danny drove on, squirming gently as he felt danny pull over minutes later and shake him up. "bri!! get up -- dude!! aw shit, its getting in the seat!!"what?brian groggily opened his eyes and awoke as he felt warmth splashed over his lap. staring back in horror as his black uniform became soaked, glistening in the light from the moon outside. hissing loud as danny jumped out to grab spare towels in the back. he didnt stare in horror because he was wetting himself like an infant. he didnt stare in horror because he had dirtied danny's van. he stared in horror because he didnt feel himself going. grabbing at his wet crotch as danny stepped in and allowed brian to finish."hey...hey, bri," he spoke up, noticing brian's panicked expression, one that screamed 'what just happened?'"it's gonna be okay, yeah? we're...its -- just a minor inconvenience. we're gonna dry this up, get you in some new dry shit, and be on our way to fuckin' hollywood!"brian slowly got out of his seat to join danny. shame written all over his face. "promise, we'll make this work. it's totally a side effect. you'll be okay."***its after they arrived and brian settled them into an apartment (by killing the apartment complex's manager and owner) did brian get help.well...sorta. it happened again as brian and danny rehearsed for their audition. danny's vocal loud and strong as he sang on about having sex with furniture, thrown into the melody of the song. brian playing the keyboard with skilled hands. staring as danny made obscene motions with his hips.stopping when he felt the top of his crotch grow warm. hissing starting again as he slammed the keyboard away and held himself. shaking his head and moving away when danny looked back. brian biting his lip as his eyes closed. still being unable to feel himself releasing, only being bale to feel himself wet. what the fuck was wrong with his bladder?he started to breathe heavily as the streams of piss ran down his legs and puddled below. wet warmth hugging his crotch as he silently cried. shame held high over his head."bri...i think we should get you checked out." was all danny could say in a supportive tone. at least he wouldnt laugh at his weak moments. ***thankfully, the weakened bladder and blow it sustained was semi fixable -- brian could slowly feel when he had to urge to go. but usually only felt it at the last minute. he had lost count on how many times he'd rush past danny after a set and make a bee line for the rest room backstage. getting to the urinal in time to unzip his pants and go, sighing as he goes.the times he cant make it -- when the rest room is locked or too many people are around, he runs to their dressing room and wets in private. piss flooding his black pants as he groans, trickling down his thighs and legs, soaking his pants and socks as it collects in and under his shoes. he just cant help it; shaking and moaning in relief as he wets himself. danny there watching with a sympathetic look. ready to help his best friend get cleaned up. because thats what best friends are for, right? ....oh, the trainee who caused this? he ran off, training himself in the mountains of japan. becoming a skilled killer with fighting skills that would make brian jealous. this trainee decided to go with samurai training than ninja training -- only going by the name 'barry'.

[dreams-for-the-apoplectic]

something i will probably never finish but like enough that im posting it anyway

Bro leans in the doorway of your room, 

(and you see him from your periphery: boxers loose on bony hips and patterned with hearts, no shirt, can of orange soda in hand with shades neatly tucked on the bridge of a strikingly crooked nose) 

and tells you, 

(over the sound of the fans, three, overclocked on some jury-rigged upgrades he threw together last year when the air conditioner went schizo cherry apeshit, just like now, again, for the second time this week spewing out mad fumes all grey-black and choked from its old, dusty vents) 

that you and he should just ollie outie of this midsummer popsicle stand and move somewhere the sun don’t actively to attempt murder you in the crispiest degree, KFC style. 

And you jokingly tell him sure, fuck it, anything is better than clawing my way up Fire Death Concrete Mountain aka Texas Mordor, clutching this bitchin’ ring of power and muttering all manner of rapturous obscenities and salacious innuendos for my precious. Sign me up Major Douchenozzle, I’ll shimmy my fine ass up this fabled air-conditioned igloo any day. 

A week later and you've packed your shit, grabbed your ticket, and are hopping the next flight to Vermont.

--

(four hours, fifty-one minutes, seven seconds, and Bro practically jumps off the plane hyperventilating when you touch down. you didn’t know how much he hated flying. you’ve never been on a plane before; if you didn’t know better, you’d think he hasn’t either. and if you quirk an eyebrow just over the rim of your aviators, and the side of your mouth makes a confused downturn for a second or two at just how fucking strange that that is, well, that was just a trick of the light, and the light is a dirty liar.)

He and you stick out like sore thumbs here 

(with Bro in a crumpled white polo and asshole jeans and dumb fucking anime shades, one hand in his pockets with an impassive, calculating kind of expression that you’re more used to than the panic, checking through tabs on Complete Bullshit for god knows what reason; you in the same shirt you wore yesterday, hair a meticulously crafted unkempt, posture slouching something awful as you bop right the fuck along to some sicknasty new bassline Jade dropped on you the night before, thinking of ways to remix it into this new beat you’ve been working on) 

among a crowd of home-grown New England faces haughty white and upturned and staring down at you and Bro like some trash that just rolled in from Doesn't Fucking Belong Here, USA.

(the luggage belt is moving so slow, so, so slow, it’s like watching a retarded crippled snail attempt a marathon against the goddamn salt shaker, and you wish you could just shake off the lingering, disdainful stares these people give the two of you, and you can, and you do)

(except you don't.)

--

You’re rolling through Montpelier an hour later, crammed up in the shotgun seat of an old, dirty, piece of shit pickup Bro apparently had nesting in the airport storage unit,

(it’s a rust hulk straight out of the early eighties, all torn up vinyl and engine rattling, with tacky, outdated bumper stickers on the back and a pine air freshener that does nothing to mask the smell of two-decade old cigarettes, and somehow you aren’t surprised this is his car because it is exactly how you imagined it.)

(you want to ask why he had a car in bumfuck, vermont and not in houston. you want to ask him if he even knows how to drive, but you hold your tongue nice and pretty and settle into the split vinyl seat cover)

moving past the city limits and into the countryside, over the state border and into New York. You give Bro the ‘what the fuck are we doing out here, man, is this the setup for a horror movie or some shit, because I’m not down to being the unwilling accomplice to some new echelon of fucked up smuppet snuff’ look, your fingers tapping in 4-4 on the dash, not really nervous so much as habitual. 

(he ruffles your hair with a smirking, mean kind of half-smile, all teeth and teasing and unnatural. you swat at him uselessly.)

And then the road is quiet, and the sky is misting grey. It’s all evergreen and shrubbery and dark soil here, and small towns by clear water: fishing ponds, creeks and rivers, and more wildlife roaming these secondhand backroads than you’ve ever seen in Texas. It starts to rain a bit, ghosting against the glass, and over the soft creak of the windshield wipers Bro asks you if you wanna put on some music, little man, heard you were working on a new track and can I get a sneak peak at that delirious biznasty? And fuck yeah you have, even if it isn’t quite done yet, and you plop your phone on the dashboard, and the drive is comfortable, 

(and you cannot shake this feeling that something is wrong.)

---

It isn’t an apartment, it’s a house in the goddamn woods; no, a fucking mansion in the goddamn woods, the design of it ripped straight from the personal architectural smutjournel of Frank Lloyd Wright, complete with white-foam waterfall and neo-American art deco pretension. Your mouth hangs open, and you know, you just fucking know a fly is about to buzz in that shit and set up a cozy little cottage, but you don’t care. This is straight wack, man.

(it looks vaguely familiar too, like something nostalgic stuck in your mental gears, cracked and rusted from disuse; something you saw once, a long time ago, in a place you can’t quite remember.)

Bro gestures you along along the concrete path, and you tell him no, wait, put the fucking brakes on Anime Goldilocks, what the fuck are we doing here, because this sure as shit can’t be where we’re living now, and I don’t wanna piss off the three bears. He pinches the bridge of his nose, and tells you in that deep southern mumble of his that, shit, kid, did you expect we’d just take a plane and end up in the same shitty apartment? And of course you didn’t

(even though you kind of did)

because that would be ridiculous, but-- you don’t know, you’ve been sharing a seven-hundred square foot living space with him for the past fifteen years. How are you supposed to react to a fucking mansion that just suddenly up and settled before you on delicate foundational popliteals and a stark-white concrete strapless all alluring and sultry? Just stand there stone-faced morose and stoic and fuck, that is exactly what you should be doing, isn’t it, because that was what he taught you, to

(stitch up the cuts slowly, careful with the needle and don’t fucking rush it, lil’ bro, even if they’re shallow you can’t just take it and jab that shit in, and for the love of god you gotta work on your dodge game, how the fuck do you expect not to get your ass served up sunnyside in a real fight?)

(̶̥̘͗̉̾̊͝ ̷̦̙̦͌͊̒́̍͛̀̀̈́́̚͘̕̚n̷̨̜̲͓̹̪͎̒͋́̊̎̐̍͌̆͘͝ͅͅͅ ̸̤̥̏́̌̑͒̈́̿́̃

̶̧̝͎̝͔͔̣̬͈̗̥̠̔̀͌̈́͆̒̇̋̋́̈́͐̈̚͝ ̷̡̛͕͚̰͉̦̼̤͍̘̝̹̮̩̈́̑̇̃̔͝͠ơ̷̡̧͔̘͇̖̫͉̳̳͖͇̰̻͗͛̿̋̾̏͘͝ ̸̨̧͈̱̫̩̲̦̭͖̿̃́̔͛̓̓͌̌͗̍̔̾͜ͅ

̷̢̮̮̠̠̬̖̙͈͋̍͛͆̔̈́̓̌̂̀͌̽͝͠ ̸̨̗̯̓͐̿̇͂͊̓́́̄̃̚͘͜͜.̷̲̙͓̮̮̬͓̈́̋͂͒̓̃͘͠͠)̸̧̖̪̦̥̪͙̫͍͙̩̻̺̩̒̌̈́͒͋͝ͅ

̵̬̯̪͛̓̈́̎̒́̂

It isn’t our house anyway, he says, 

(and your mind slams on the brakes so hard you think you might flip this shit frontways, slam the roof on that motherfucker into the burning asphalt and skid off the edge of this brutal synapse fuckup.)

(you can’t remember what you were thinking. it’s blurry, and forgotten, and everything is normal again)

moving forward in long, atypical strides that you scramble to follow. The rain is still coming down, you realize, in a softer drizzle that dampens your shirt. Friend of mine lives here.

Holy shit, he has friends?

Yes, I have friends, you little shit, and you flinch when you realize you must have said that out loud. His arms flex, shoulder blades audibly popping with the contraction of muscle, and you flinch, and nothing happens. Her name is Roxy.

And shit, you guess that’s all there really is to say on the matter, because he doesn’t provide any further explanation and you sure as hell don’t ask. You duck under the porch roof and he raps a fat bar of knuckles on the door.

---

Roxy isn’t anything like you expect. 

You don’t know what you were expecting, actually, considering you’ve only just heard about her, but she is perky and kind-eyed and so fucking sincere that the saccharine emotional font of exuberant delight that straight up sparkles from her is making you real uncomfortable.

She hugged you.

She hugged you and you liked it.  

(and she hugged Bro too, made his spine go all weird fucking c-shaped wrongness as she crushes him against her chest, calls him Dirk like she fucking owns him.)

You’re ushered in as she turns on heel and sways away with a tipsy strut, sauced and sauntering and high stilettos tapping on the dark hardwood. She tells you to drop your things by the door, she can set each of you up with a room in a bit, and Dirk, honey, we have got so much catching up to do, I haven’ seen you and the lil’ guy in ages, and god yer both so fuckin’ tall I forgot about that bit,

(christ on the cross, she can speak at a mile a minute, accent a thickly laced New York staccato that matches Texas about as close to the intersection of nil and fuckall as you can get without running head-on into traffic.)

and Dirky, Dirkle, Dirk-a-licious, oh my god come here right now, I gotta show you this badass shit I‘ve been working on, it’s fuckin’ lit as hell, it has got switches and gizmos and all of the cool techy shit I know you swoon over, and you need to check out this code I wrote because you know I’m not about to trust anyone else to parse my sick lines, so come ooooooooooooon and there they go, Bro dragged stiff as cardboard across the floor by the hem of his fucking shirt. He gives you a side-eye look that says crosses somewhere between  ‘don’t go anywhere, I’ll be right back’ and ‘help me.’

You shrug and flip him off and leave him to his fate. His death glare could kill a lesser man.

(holy shit.)

And then, quite suddenly, you are alone.

It’s not quiet, you notice - just a more subtle murmur than the scream of a city, made emptier without Roxy to fill up the room. Slow, churning movement below signals the languid rush of water as it tumbles beneath the floorboards and off the cliffside. Some woodland creature skitters in wet dirt beyond the window pane, which filters in ghost-grey light and shakes a bit when a particularly heavy set of raindrops hit. 

You shuffle about awkwardly, and glance around for a second,

(the interior is lavishly decorated, you notice. posh white starkness for fineass digs. sir asshole the stone swamp wizard sits plainly in the foyer, nested in arcane robes of the dimwitted and tacky. a cat is nuzzled up at the foot of some kind of bronzed vacuum. the whole place smells like perfume and vodka. it’s kind of intoxicating.)

before deciding the panicked, lingering gaze is kind of stupid, and waiting for Bro to come back like a pining factory girl in the nineteen-forties writing sappy missives to the brave boys in Okinawa was lame as shit, so you flop down on the couch, all loose, gangly puberty limbs and feigned indifference and the muted light of your phone glaring back at you. You pull open a pesterchum window, shoot a few messages to Harley,

(some off-the-cuff rap cooked slow on these sick fires, like just put some whip cream and a goddamn cherry on that shit and call it a sunday. you also make sure to attach a file for the new sbahj comic you’ve been working on. you’ve lovingly dubbed the new arc ‘the spaztastic furry hatesex maelstrom,’ and you hope know she’ll love it.)

and Egbert,

(and you admit, muddled up in tangents and similes that take forever just to get to the goddamn point, that you actually took his recommendation and stuck through the bitterly tasteless cinema assassination of the week. you even wrote a shitty review for it on one of your ironically maintained critic blogs, and send him a link)

(you won’t admit you laughed at groundhog day. he will never let you live it down. never.)

and Lalonde,

(who is on, surprisingly, because you know she has school right now, and fuck if the flighty broad doesn’t take every swat of the educational ass whooping with a snide, condescending seriousness that has a way of getting just under your skin. she wants to go to Harvard, or Cornell, or Oxford, because she is smarter than you, and John, and maybe not Jade but damn is she close.)

(she doesn’t respond either, though, so you cast the thought away and send her some custom made memes deep fried in a hundred layers of crystalline  jpeg illegibility and wait, fuck, holy shit)

and then someone is standing over you, peering with an appraising interest, like they’re looking at a slab of beef splayed out dumb on the chopping block. And you don’t flinch, you really don’t, even though you’re about five seconds away from flipping this shit backwards and kicking dust up as you run for the hills. 

You can tell this girl is nasty. She is stygian lips and white-blonde hair and violet eyes that politely inform you that this is indeed the fucking slaughterhouse, that you guessed it right, and you’re about to get served up with a side of collard greens and barbecue sauce.

So of course the first words out of your mouth are 'sup, Rose.

Wait, wh

(you see her past the glow of a verdant sun, because even a double universe killing superbomb can't outshine her. cascading orange silk stitch wrapped in a star-shimmering supernova of violet eyes and pallid skin. it's like a goddamn angel come from the heaven; a smirk beneath the hood and fire in her belly. she is the fucking sun now, and nothing can even fucking compare.)

at.

(what the fuck.)

What the fuck.

(what the actual fuck dude.)

Do I know you? Her voice is just dripping contempt.

And you don't fucking know her. She isn't here. Rose is a billion lightyears off in the gay space commune, deep encoded digital vaporware that went out of style twelve fucking years ago. She is a string of chat logs and embarrassing Fruedian slips that didn't happen, no, Rose, you don't have undercover mother-lust. 

And she is here.

You've never even seen her picture, but you know. You know far beneath the skin, something deeper than blood or bone or anything else seething something above that spiritual core. You know on a fucked kind of metaphysical. It's self-evident. It cannot help but make itself true.

Uh.

Shit.

Shit dude fucking say something. She’s just standing there, and the downward curvature of those lips is about to break out of the spatial plane and into some hyper paranoid fourth dimension. You guess she has a right to be weary. Your gangly ass is seated firmly in her territory.

#homestuck #dave strider #bro strider #rose lalonde #mom lalonde #decided i should probably fulfill the whole 'occasionally write things' part of my blog that has kinda been neglected since like 2017 or so #and this has just been sitting abandoned in a google docs since like early 2019 or so but i like it enough that i figured fuck it why not #so here you go #my requisite one writing thing that i post a year #it will probably never be finished #enjoy i guess?

[smithya93-blog]

Bird Brained- Chapter 6

Show your support by reading the next chapters on Wattpad!Maze left the infirmary and wandered the palace. He held his arm in a sling and wore his obscene feathered cloak in a way that conveniently displayed the bandages that crossed his chest. He was after all an eccentric person at heart. Maybe if he gave enough of a shit about anything he could have been a good actor or poet. Too bad he hated writing and had a terrible memory.

As if by the grace of Nepetes herself, he found Lekan headed down the hall toward him. Play it cool, he thought. Let the prince introduce himself. His stomach quaked at the dramatic nature in which he had fallen into the other man's life. There couldn't be a better way to make a first impression. He greeted Lekan with a short nod in acknowledgement.

"You're awake."

Maze cocked his head "I have been for a while now... " Lekan laughed holding out his hand to shake.

Wrong hand.

He shifted his left to awkwardly shake brandishing the sling. The prince winced.

"Oh.. my apologies does it hurt?" "The pain is mild.. The cleric here is lovely." "Yes Lupit is well respected for her healing magic." "I would agree she has patched me up well." He patted the sling feigning a wince. This felt too formal "Although she wants me to remain in one place until my injuries heal."

"You are more than welcome to stay here while you recover." Could he stay forever? Lekan was on the verge of melting. This was him. This was the scrappy looking man who saved him that night.

He needed to stop referring to him that way. Scrappy wasn't the most accurate term. The man had shaved, his hair neatly trimmed and taken care of while he was resting. Although it looked like he was graying early, he could be no older than the prince himself. His features were rough but held a softness to them that Lekan found striking.

Maze smiled brightly. "Should I take you for the Head of House?" "My mother holds that title for now."

"So you are the prince then.."

Lekan was surveying him intently.

Oh this felt amazing.

"And your name is?"

Lekan was taken aback by the question. "Oh.. Lekan.. Well... that's... you can call me Lekan" Maze gave him a short bow. "I thank you for your hospitality."

"The pleasure is all mine.." He paused waiting for Maze to introduce himself.

"Maze Suvroc, Shadow of the Morning Star." It was so wordy. He hated it but damn did it make him look really good.

"Maze.."

Lekan showed the stranger around.  Maze oo'd and aww'ed at the grandiose nature of the palace, as if he hadn't been living there for the last six months.

--

"Explain yourself." Arthula looked furious arms crossed. After their tour Lekan had brought him into the great hall to meet with his mother. Maze felt the full weight of her gaze as he was scrutinized. All eyes were on him and with only six people in the room, it was excruciating.

"I.. deserted the regalia.. I wanted to take a tour of the region... try to find myself" He bit his lip hating how that sounded "I.. ran into some rough company... situations I could not avoid.. I just want to start my life fresh."

"So you're a coward" Lonan asserted himself into the conversation.

"No I found the Regalia boring." He scoffed without acknowledging Lonan hovering behind him. "Idolizing military power turned out to be duller than I expected."

Arthula looked over to her son not believing an ounce of what Maze had said "Well?"

"His... his family is in shambles, he should stay here while he recovers and sorts out his estate." That may have came off way more eager than he wanted it to.

"I understand that." Arthula began "but, is it safe to just assume this man is really who he says he is."

Ulyss stepped forward clearing his throat. "If I may your grace.. Maze and I went to boarding school together." He looked back at Maze who greeted him with a weird little hip wave.

Maze nodded "We were roommates."

Lekan nodded at his mother "They were roommates."

"He would, in my honest opinion go missing off of the face of the earth for four years and then return from a near death experience at the side of the road." Ulyss continued his eyes not leaving his former friend.

Arthula sighed "Fine, I'll have another room made up." She motioned for Lekan to follow her and Ulyss joined them.

"You.. didn't run away this time though did you.." he muttered under his breath as he passed Maze by.

What was that supposed to mean?

He was offered dinner at the long table alone. It felt very... lonesome. At that time of night everyone else had already eaten, so leftovers were warmed for him. They had also left him a chalice of wine. How kind of them.

Every clink against the dinnerware rang throughout the high ceilings of the empty hall like cannon fire. Footsteps approached him and Lulit made herself comfortable on the table

"So.. How's it going?"

"Your mother is terrifying."

"You think it's bad, I have to live with her."

"I will too if I can play my cards right."

She laughed "Your so optimistic."

"He likes me" "Ulyss has like a week over your head"

He grumbled downing another glass of wine.

--

"So.. what is it about him?" Arthula and Lekan took to setting the room together for Maze. The staff were all finished with their work for the day. The family had very strong feelings about letting them have their free time.

It's not like they couldn't make a bed themselves.

"You'll call me crazy."

"Should I?" she let the comforter drop over the bed.

"Maybe"

"Then tune your mother in on why she should consider you crazy my summer flower." She sat down watching him worried. "You've always been too kind for your own good. Picking up all manner of broken or tired animals, this boy is not someone you can fix. Who knows where he's been.. Or.."

"I think he was the one who saved me.. that night I was ambushed."

Arthula balked at the statement. "What.."

"When.. I woke up and heard the struggle outside. I saw three figures. When the Guard came in... I saw his face.." he sat on the bed and rubbed his face. "You might think he is trouble.. but I know he was fighting back against those intruders." He looked at her pleadingly "If it was him, I owe him my life."

Arthula pushed down the worrying warnings she wanted to give.

"Just... stay close to Lonan.. He can stay because his estate has essentially been torn apart by looters. Don't tell him that.. Tell him there was a fire or something. We can figure the rest out later." She waved her hand. "Do not.. Under any circumstances allow yourself to be alone with him. Do you understand me?"

"Mother.." "No buts... not until we can trust him." She shook her head. "Have Lonan fetch him.. I am retiring for the evening." She kissed his forehead taking her leave.

--

He most certainly did not ask Lonan to fetch Maze and he most certainly did not heed his mother's words. He returned to the great hall to find... "Lulit? What are you doing here"

She jumped off of the table. "Interrogating the suspect."

"What is he suspect of?"

"Trying to kill you."

Maze nearly choked on his food "Hey! Im.."

She laughed shaking her head "As mom thinks of him."

Lekan shooed her off "Go to bed."

"Why?"

"Just.. go.. I need to talk to him"

She rolled her eyes strolling off. Not before giving Maze a thumbs up behind her brothers back.

He waited until Lulit was out of the hall before speaking. "I see the wine has been treating you well."

Maze glanced at the half empty vase before him. "Oh.. it came that way." It most certainly did not and Lekan knew that.

"If you are done eating, I would be happy to show you to your room." Lekan held out his arm for Maze. He pulled himself up taking it and allowing the larger man to escort him.

Guests were situated in the tower beside the family's quarters. Up the winding stairs different rooms spun off with a communal shower at the base. Lekan explained that the castle had been built that way and to put in individual amenities would disrupt the traditional feel of the palace. Maze felt like it might just be a ploy to force snooty guests to have to walk to take a shit.

His door was at the top of the staircase.

"I apologize in advance, we did not plan for any guests." He laughed "but.. I can say I am not disappointed to have the company" Maze released his arm so he could unlock the door. "Do you need clothing?"

"Ah.. I should tomorrow."

"I can have a squire go and fetch things from your family home" he was deciding to ignore everything his mother told him tonight.

"That's alright, those things can rot there.." he ran a hand through his hair sighing. "I'm not a fan of the.. family. I'm looking to make a new one."

Lekan looked at him bewildered. "Not.. a fan?"

Maze pushed the door open not wanting the conversation to continue much longer "Oh.. it's complicated. As families are." He took stock in the room, the canopy bed, the simple dresser and wardrobe arrangements and the small lounge area. He could sleep here and Lekan wouldn't be the wiser that his crow was missing. The prince followed him in.. damnit.

Not that he didn't want to welcome Lekan into every aspect of his life. He was just worn out, and making more trouble for the prince probably wouldn't be good for either of them at the moment.

"I'm not sure I understand?" Lekan followed up on the previous statement.

"Just.. I was never really close with my parents.. they didn't want any more kids so I was an only child. They thought.. one to carry on, save the rest from the misfortune." he caught Lekans progressively more inquisitive look. "That misfortune being my mother" Maze flopped back on the bed "She was a witch, not it the literal sense but she.. really knew how to make a house feel like a prison." He laughed. "I left to find my own way without them. Just the clothes on my back, and the shoes on my feet" and the feathers he grew from being an unfortunate moron.

Lekan nodded solemnly. "I'm sorry you had to experience that" which in essence, was what Maze expected. One who grew up in a cooperative functional family couldn't really understand where he was coming from. Lekan didn't need to get it, just understand it was a sore spot for him.

"So... why are you letting me stay here?"

Lekan stroked his beard contemplatively. "In all honesty. I think your interesting... and someone I want to keep an eye on.."

Maze chuckled shedding his cloak and flinging it over a chair, Lekan stared at it.

"Feathers?"

"I was advised against it but I don't take advice well."

"Why feathers?"

"Family crest is a crow"

"Is it?" Lekan found that very curious "I accidentally adopted a crow."

Maze sat up feigning surprise "Really? How coincidental."

Lekan chuckled "It might have been meant to be."

An awkward silence filled the space between them. Shit, he had nothing fun or interesting to talk about. If he had actually gone on a real venture to find himself he would have some funny stories to tell or some quip about crows he met on the vast plains but..

"Is this your first time in the capital?"

"Yes" he lied blatantly.

"Oh.." Lekan seemed to be disappointed in that response.

"Show me around sometime?"

"I would be honored."

Maze smiled as the prince took his leave closing the door politely.

He spent about five minutes pacing his room before heading back to his nest.

--

A swift rapping at the door woke Maze the next morning. Lekan was already awake, preparing for the day and went to answer. Ulyss emerged from the doorway with a tray "Good morning my prince, I brought you breakfast" Lekan was thrown off by the gesture.

"Oh.. I was on my way to go eat with the rest of-"

"I thought it might be nice if we could have breakfast together."

Lekan nodded slowly "All right..." Well, Ulyss was supposed to be wooing Lekan.. the man could enjoy it if he wanted to.

Ulyss set the tray down at the coffee table and took a seat in one of the lounge chairs. The prince took stock in the food before digging in. "Did you cook this?"

"Yes.. I enjoy a little culinary work when I have the time. All faeish recipes of course, I've gotten quite good at preparing the food." "It's fantastic." he praised Ulyss royally.

It was just eggs, anyone could cook eggs. Hell with one more chromosome Maze could make eggs and that wouldn't be considered a phenomenon.

Ulyss reached out sliding a hand down Lekans shoulder.

"You know.. I've grown quite fond of you Lekan.." The prince looked up with a mouth full of food. "Oh?"

Ulyss laughed resting his hand on the other man's thigh. "I.. would hope you feel the same.."

Lekan made this face. It looked to Maze almost like he was in pain. "I would appreciate it if you would-"

Ulyss sighed interrupting his rejection. "I just want to please you my king."

Ok that's far enough. Maze took his leave from the nest screeching incessantly and dive bombing the newcomer. Ulyss threw himself back swearing and swinging his arm "WHAT THE HELL" Maze felt maybe he should just go right for the throat. Going in claws first- until he was grabbed by the midsection and tossed across the room.

Lekan was astounded by his careless toss and burst into a stream of apologies, as Ulyss bolted from the room screaming. Maze was not injured by the throw, however the wind had been knocked from him. He laid on the bedspread gasping for a moment before Lekan came to check on him.

"Oh.. I'm so sorry... I didn't mean.." his eyes betrayed a hint of tears.

Wait.. no don't cry.. not over this.

He squawked and slowly stood back up. Resting his beak on the hand on the bed and gave him a reassuring look.

Don't cry over me.

Lekan stroked the birds head sighing. "You really startled me.. and Ulyss I guess." He winked at the bird. "I'm sorry, I would never intend to hurt you my little crow." He took a moment to stroke the birds back and make sure it wasn't injured before returning to his morning routine. Maze wasn't wholly sure he could fly right now. He put on a good little show just now but, geez that blow could have killed him if he hadn't hit the bed.

Once Lekan left he needed to get to his room and get dressed before anyone noticed he was missing.

He hopped to the balcony looking down. Sure.. he could shimmy his way across the rooftops... but at crow size that was like a mile of sliding and maneuvering. It would take like an hour. He could probably glide into one of the lower rooms.. sneak out the door and up to his room.. where his door was locked.. he did manage to do that before passing out.

Curse his forethought.. well.. Balcony hopping it was.

He righted himself and tumbled from the balcony hitting the roof below hard. Yeah great start to the morning. He hopped himself along the copper plates of the rooftop.

The roof was not made for crow feet. He kept slipping slowly toward the lip with each step not able to catch a grip. He made it to the foot of the tower and clung on for dear life, as he contemplated having to climb it. He beat his wings finding little purchase but eventually working his way up to the first ledge. Then the second, painfully he scaled the balcony with the incessant wing beats, pulling himself onto his balcony and collapsing on the floor switching to his human shape. He lay there wheezing for a while when he heard a knock at the door.

Lulit pushed her way inside smirking at him.

"Saw you had a little trouble getting back over here.. thought I'd drop in and make sure you didn't fall off."

"you're so kind"

She grinned "You should really lock your door at night.. oh and breakfast is starting soon... so chop chop." She took off back down the stairs.

      He joined Ulyss and Lulit at breakfast. Lonan sat to the side to the side eyes boring holes into Mazes head. "Sorry, couldn't find the shower." He took a seat at the table and made himself a plate.

"Wheres Lekan?" "He has some business today with mom" Lulit responded without looking up from her book.

He nodded at Ulyss "What happened to your face?"

"The princes feral crow"

"Feral crow?"

"It went berserk. Just absolutely attacked me as if I was some villain!"

"Well... what did you do?"

"NOTHING! I.." Ulyss ran a hand through his hair trying to calm himself, still clearly overwhelmed by the experience.

Maze felt a prick of pride at his exasperation.

"I just brought him breakfast.. you know.. to schmooze him a little."

Lulit stood quickly realizing that the conversation was turning in a direction she did not want to be a part of. Lonan watched her leave without a word and returned his attention to Maze.

With Lulit out of the room Ulyss continued, nodding toward Maze.

"I've learned that kind of thing always works for an early morning rubdown." He chuckled.

Maze fairly choked on his fork. He did not find that funny. "What's that supposed to mean"

"If I am going to be his husband, that doesn't mean I can't dive in early."

"If you dive in too early the water would be dirtied and unworthy of bathing" Lonan chimed in with his outdated and offensive opinion.

"You are now officially out of the conversation" Ruit muttered harshly. They looked at him with disgust.

"How can you even say that.."

"Ones fist time is sacred" Lonan responded wiping his face.

"Not really.. I mean if you think that for yourself fine.. but you can't decide that for someone else" Ruit muttered into his eggs.

Lonan scoffed "I have long since lost that experience, I will not allow his pool to be sullied."

Ok this analogy was getting old.

"He's not a pool or an object.. he's a person and.." Maze burst out "You know what.. You have that conversation with him, and see how he feels."

Ulyss laughed "Oh how your tune has changed since school. It's nice to know at least some of us can grow up" He shot a dirty look at Lonan.

The knight huffed and stood from the table "Ruit.. we are needed at the prince's side."

The squire rolled his eyes leaving his half eaten plate to follow his Sir from the room.

The two former roommates found themselves alone and with a strange tenseness in the air.

"Do you think I did something wrong?"

"Maybe.."

Ulyss looked across the table at his old friend with a pained look in his eye.

Maze set his fork aside. "Look... crows are smart right.. maybe he thought you were a danger to Lekan.." he shrugged. "Was he interested in your schmoozing?"

Ulyss said nothing contemplating that statement as he chewed through a piece of bacon.

"Would schmoozing be inappropriate at this time?" "Dunno... I don't know him.." he lied "but he seems like a gentle person.. He's probably been schmoozed his entire life."

"So he would know better.."

"He might need bodyguards to protect him but I don't think he is as defenseless as they make him out to be."

Ulyss smirked "Always keen.. As crows are I guess."

Maze ignored the comment finishing his meal.

He watched Ulyss and Lekan sneak out of the palace later that evening from the top of a turret.

He would let Ulyss have his date with Lekan in peace. Despite the mornings event he knew Ulyss to be of decent background, and after their conversation felt that he wouldn't need to chaperone them.

---

"So.. What do you think.. Do I have a chance?"

"I don't know man.. I'm not an expert on my brother"

"You know him better than anyone else"

"Actually I think you might." She pulled away from her book. "When you got here Lekan stopped talking to us about his problems. He talked to you."

"I'm subjective you are not." They both went quiet for a while. Maze playing with the charm around his neck anxiously.

"What if he doesn't like me?" She turned to face him unsure of how to answer "What if.. I do all of this and, he doesn't want me?"

"It's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all" She went back to her book.

"Wow.. wise words coming from you!"

"Some poet wrote that."

"Of course they did."

"If he doesn't want you.. well.. respect his decision." She shrugged "What else can you do.. if you love him support him."

Maze nodded.. Was love too strong of a word. Did he really love Lekan, he owed his life to the man sure, he felt joy in the confidence Lekan held him with. All of his secrets and feelings. He wondered if their relationship as people could be as close.

The evening's dinner met Maze with a very rude awakening. Ulyss sitting at the head of the table beside Lekan holding a bubbling conversation with the man. Something in the pit of Mazes stomach dropped. The appetizing meal before him went untouched in the revelation that, Ulyss might.. Actually have a good chance.

Did they even have anything in common? Maybe he had rushed into this. It was hard trying to think about the needs of others. Being a crow was a selfish pleasure, being someones partner was.. ugh. One night stands were ideal for him, he never needed to worry about feelings and compromise. Ulyss was intelligent, charming, handsome... all values Maze knew were appealing and yet none he had himself.

He left the dinner table early that night. Unbeknownst to him, Lekans eyes followed him out as he left.

-----

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