#in which i happen to be in a mood to give affection instead of receive it

[ilovechuuyasm]

My random thoughts on how good ler Alastor would be were well received, so I wrote a fanfic based on that

This is a tickle fanfiction, If this is not your area of interest, don't read it! ^^

Ler!Alastor and Lee!Reader - He just wanted to make you smile

You were just having a bad day, everyone and everything was irritating you since the morning. Plus, Alastor went to a meeting of the rulers, so you were sitting in your room, reading (you don't have TV, I wonder why) and waiting for him to come back and improve your mood.

He appeared out of nowhere and hugged you, scaring you a little "Waah, one day you'll scare me to death!" you squeaked, he sat down next to you, slightly amused.

"Well, hello there, darling!" he greeted you, ignoring your earlier comment "Did something happen?" he tilted his head slightly, looking at your face.

"Nothing special... just a bad day" you murmured and you spread your hands, wanting some affection from him.

"Hm? You want a hug now?" He asked, watching you.

"Yes, please, I've been waiting for you all day" you whispered. Instead of doing it normally, Alastor teleported closer to you and hugged you gently.

"Now smile, sweetheart! You know you are not fully dressed without a smile!" he said enthusiastically. You sighed and smiled fakely for a moment, then returned to your dissatisfied face. "Oh, that's not nice.. " he said, he sounded disappointed, but at the same time you could hear a little teasing in his voice "I don't want my beloved one to look so sad" he added, placing his hand on your side and moving you closer to his embrace, smiling widely. You had a feeling that he was planning something and after a while your hunches were confirmed as you felt a small poke on your side.

"Nahh! Alastor!" you squeaked, trying to escape his embrace, but instead you felt Alastor's shadow (Idk, that black thing lmao) wrap around your body.

"Ohh, you are not going anywhere now, little fawn~" he said, wiggling his fingers in a distinctive way, knowing how it affects you "If you don't want to smile for me, I'll make you~" He announced and you noticed a sadistic gleam in his eyes. He knew you had a thing for tickling, you were the only person he didn't want to actually hurt, but a little torture never hurt anyone, right?

You giggled nervously, when you felt like your body was completely immobilized and you were at the mercy of the radio demon. "Al, I can smile for you now, you know?" you said, grinning at him, trying to defend yourself.

"Hmm" he looked at you, tilting his head, pretending to be thinking "Too lateee~" he hums and you felt his fingers attacking your exposed sides. He didn't even try to start gently or to tease you, he immediately started tickling you hard, and you immediately burst out laughing.

You started squirming as much as you could, which only encouraged him to continue. It's an amazing feeling when the victim wants to escape but is unable and has to endure everything Alastor wants to do to them, he loved it. His hands roamed over your body, looking for the most sensitive places so he could torture you a bit, while you laughed, struggling to take each breath as this demon wouldn't give you even a moment's rest.

"A-! Ahahah! Alahaha-!" you tried to say his name.

He leaned over you, continuing to tickle your stomach now "Enjoying yourself?" He whispered in his teasy tone.

"NOHOHO!" you squealed.

"Oh what a shame!" He answered "Because I'm not finished with you yet~" he made eye contact with you and started tickling your ribs more aggressively. Tears started to well up in your eyes from laughing, and the laughter became more and more hysterical. His smile widened "Could you scream a little bit louder for me~?"

You began to squirm and whimper as the sensation took over your entire body, you felt so vulnerable.

"ALASTORR! NYAHAHAHYAH!" you screamed, you felt Alastor dig his fingers into your knees and then your thighs. You wanted to kick your legs, but they were immobilized, so all you could do was continue laughing hysterically. He enjoyed your screams, they were a sign to him that he was taking good care of you "FUHUHUCK!" the curse left your mouth.

"Oh my, what a mess of words!" said Alastor "You shouldn't say that, you little fawn~" he hums, grabbing your ankle, you gained a second of respite.

"LEHEHEAVE ME ALOHOHONE!" you squealed when his finger ran over your foot.

"Didn't you tell me earlier that you've been waiting for me all day?" he asked, tickling your poor sole with two fingers now. You groaned in response and soon started laughing again. He knew you wouldn't answer him now, so he spoke again "Ohh, you are so adorable, how entertaining!" he started tickling you mercilessly again, quickly running his fingers along the entire length of your sole.

"AHAHALA-!" you cried "ALASTOOOR!"

"Aww, i could just eat you up!" he exclaimed, which sounded truly disturbing coming from him, he let go of your ankle and looked at you as you caught your breath "But I won't, because i still want you here with me HaHa!" Alastor said such weird things sometimes, and honestly that was one of the things you loved about him "Speaking of eating you~" He hiked up your shirt, which was unexpected, and leaned down, glaring at you. You let out a long, very high-pitched moan when he blew raspberry on your stomach. If that wasn't enough, his fluffy, long ears nuzzled your chin. You started giggling uncontrollably again. Very gently, he began to nibble the skin on your belly and sides, even though his teeth are quite sharp, he somehow managed to make it tickle mercilessly.

After a while, his hands were on your sides again and he tickled you so bad. Your screams and laughter filled the entire room, because it was so intense.

"NOHOHOH! STAHAHAP!" you yelped. You couldn't see what affected you more, his merciless fingers, the sweet raspberries amd nibbles on your belly or those ears! You felt so overwhelmed, and Alastor seemed happy with what he was doing.

When he finally took pity on your fate, stopped tickling you, he removed the shadow surrounding you and looked at you with a huge, satisfied smile. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes in exhaustion.

"I hate you.." you murmured.

"HaHa! I surely doubt it!" he answered and stroked your hair "You should appreciate how merciful I was anyway Hah!" his smile widened again.

"You are so creepy sometimes" you smirked slightly "But i guess, that's why i love you"

"I hope I managed to make you feel better" he said "Do you need anything, fawn?"

"Uhh, just water, but I can go get it myself"

"Then we can go together" Alastor decided, offering you his hand. You smiled at how quickly he could go from being cruel to being so sweet and you grabbed his hand.

You didn't expect that everyone would notice your red face and disheveled hair, but they did. Charlie was terrified that he had done something bad to you, but Angel Dust didn't forget to mention that from the screams he could tell that you two had a lot of fun. You didn't know if it would be more embarrassing to admit that Alastor was just tickling you or to let them think you were f*cking..

#tickle content #tword #tickle #tickle community #tickling #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel tickle #alastor tickle #ler!alastor #lee!reader #tickle fic

[teabutmakeitazure]

Clouded Gaze, Unequivocal Lust

>Yan! Childe x Fem! Reader

a/n: again, I don't know how this came to be, it just did

Warnings: physical assault, suggestive, mentions of pregnancy, ooc Childe(?), intimidating behaviour

Word count: 2k

.⁠·´⁠¯⁠`⁠·⁠._.⁠·´⁠¯⁠`⁠·⁠._.⁠·´⁠¯⁠`⁠·⁠._.⁠·´⁠¯⁠`⁠·⁠._.⁠·´⁠¯⁠`⁠·⁠._.⁠·´⁠¯⁠`⁠·⁠._.⁠·´⁠¯⁠`⁠·⁠._.⁠·´⁠¯⁠`⁠·⁠._.⁠·´⁠¯⁠`⁠·⁠.

Dinner time. The worst part of your day and the most exhausting. It's when everyone is gone, safe for you two and you're forced to interact and eat with him. He analyses every word you say and every remark you make like an encrypted debt collection job. It honestly makes you sick.

So when you see him come back home with a lovesick smile instead of his usual calculating one, you feel even more on edge. Something definitely happened, something good. Even though the prospect of that should make you happy, it makes your stomach churn instead. Because in the end, you're the one who has to deal with him when he gets too happy.

You are the one at the receiving end of his overbearing affection and the one who has to deal with the after effects of it. Bruises from tight grips, a sore body in the morning and marks painted from his so-called passion.

"You seem distant today."

At least he somewhat cares about your feelings, enough to inquire about them once in a while. Though he doesn't let them stop him from taking what he wants, his possibly fake worry suffices to soothe your nerves at times.

"Just don't feel too well, that's all."

Childe narrows his eyes at you after that response. Drooping shoulders, tired eyes and a softer voice. When all three boxes check out, he puts back his smile and continues eating, not identifying your mood as a threat. Still, he decides to poke around a bit for good measure.

"What's wrong?"

Damn you carrot-head, you mentally seethe out. With no trace of frustration on your expression, you make eye contact and blatantly lie, "Nothing, just feel a bit down."

"Mhm."

You go back to eating after a few seconds of poking at the rice.

"You're not pregnant, are you?"

There's no way to say that you didn't almost choke on your food. Childe merely rests his face in his palm as he watches you down half a glass of water to stop coughing, obviously caught off guard at his question. Dull blue eyes roam your face and observe how life springs back into it despite the earlier lack of energy.

"What even," you sputter out, "why would you think that?"

He shrugs, smile now no longer present, "I just made a guess. So is it a yes or a no?"

"No, I'm not."

"Oh."

"If I was, I would've known."

"Right."

"Hey, I'm serious. What made you think that?"

For some reason, your suspicion of his good mood from earlier goes to that. He may have heard something incorrect from the staff.

"A little birdie told me," he grins.

You raise a brow at his cryptid words, obviously not buying it. "And who would this birdie be?"

"If I told you, it would ruin all the fun."

"This is fun to you?"

His grin merely widens teasingly, inviting you to solve it faster. However, you've been with Childe for quite a while, so you know when he's messing with you.

With no hesitation, you relax back into your seat and give him a deadpan expression. "You were just trying to get to me, weren't you?"

He shakes his head, hair swaying left and right. "I just wanted to lighten the mood."

"An actually funny joke would've been better."

"I prefer surprises."

"I'll keep that in mind."

With that, you grab your spoon and go back to eating to just get done with it. There's no telling what other nonsense he may spew if the silence stays. Oddly enough, he didn't even go about his day today. Maybe it wasn't a desk job day.

"Jokes aside, do you want to be pregnant?"

"No."

-

Like usual, morning comes with no trace of your husband beside you or in the house for that matter. He mostly leaves way too early in order to catch some extra training, which means that you can't see him off. Good because you'd rather not be awake for his goodbye kiss.

Daytime goes by rather smoothly without his presence to bother you, mostly being occupied with your own activities. You've even coaxed the head maid to let you out into the backyard at noon, allowing you to run around and seldomly collect flowers and dry them. If Childe notices the additional flowers on the vases, he doesn't speak of it.

Especially since in his eyes, you're making an effort to adjust. Though you hate him thinking that you're okay with all this, you can't bring yourself to correct him. If he thinks you're happy, then that just means less problems for you. Despite being a harbinger, he's childish and nosy, a combination you despise.

Even so, it's not like you have a choice. All you can do is grimace or sigh when you hear his footsteps again, not wanting to deal with the way his eyes roam your face at all times.

"I'm back!"

Oh how I wish you'd die in one of your daily jobs.

"Did you miss me?"

Before you can say anything, two arms slither around your waist, hands resting on your stomach. All words die in your throat when he rubs his cheek on your face. The flower and scissors are set down on the table as you grab its edge for composure. When you feel him smile against your cheek, you can't help but slightly grit your teeth.

"Flowers? Who for?"

"The vase near the staircase. I thought it would look better with more flowers in it."

"I see."

He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck now, sighing blissfully as his nose rubs against the skin.

“I hope you’re having a fun afternoon. I missed you so I thought I’d drop by before a meeting.”

How thoughtful. “A meeting?”

“Mhm. Did you wash your hair today? It smells nice.”

“I washed it yesterday…”

"No wonder it smells heavenly. It's your own scent."

Not given a chance to conjure up a response, his grip on you suddenly tightens. The strength he's using is borderline crushing you, and you're starting to fear for the safety of your ribs.

As panic settles in, dread slithers between the gaps when his face moves from your neck to your hair. Any possible sound dies in your throat as you feel it start to close up, not even registering the fact that a hand is wrapped around it.

"My love, had I wanted something so dry in this relationship, I would've gone for your corpse."

Your hand involuntary comes up to claw at his, the one handed choke already clouding your vision.

"I doll you up, please you, provide for you and fulfil your needs yet this is how you're showing gratefulness?"

The metacarpal bone of his thumb is pressing into your voice box and the fingertip leisurely pressing into your carotid artery with increasing pressure. Your head is spinning now, you realise, as there's hardly any strength left in your legs.

He laughs. The sick bastard just laughed in your ear like someone told a joke.

"As much as I love you being vocal, I think I'm in a more quiet mood."

Suddenly, you're spun around to face him but before you can even take in air, his lips are on yours. The hand that was on your throat slips under your shirt and runs over your back with a teasing pull to your bra hook. The other simply grabs a fistful of your hair, keeping your face in place and cutting off any air.

Legs almost jelly, you muster up any strength you can and push him away, gasping as your vision slowly comes back. His hand is still under your shirt as the other one grabs your face harshly. The two of you partake in a half-arsed staring contest as he scans your face while you fill your lungs with oxygen. When he so graciously lets go, your body is quick to lose balance and fall.

With hands now wrapped around the table leg for support, you're still in shock of what happened. Your mind goes through the events of the past few minutes in slow motion, failing to pay attention to the crazed eyes of the man in front of you. A scoff from him, and your body immediately reacts by scrambling backwards. As if being under the table could protect you from him.

“And here I was thinking you’d at least scream after that.”

Childe steps forward, blocking the light from the lamp behind him. It’s then when you see the blood stains on his grey winter coat and the splatter across his face. The light hits the back of his head, making the messier parts of his hair look like a sunset as his head is circled by a halo. He looks like a harbinger of death with that smile and dullness in his eyes.

“Come on sweetheart, you’re better than this. On your feet, get up.”

You merely hug the table leg tighter.

“Look,” he kneels down, “I’m giving you another chance. If you’re not going to respond, I’ll just try something else. I’m sick of this.”

Against your better judgement, you shake your head and attempt to speak but nothing comes out. Your throat feels impossibly dry and to the point of hurting when you try to say anything. At the revelation, you shake your head again, hoping that he’d get the hint.

“Really?”

You grab his coat, pulling it lightly with a pleading look.

“What is it?”

The tears in your eyes threaten to spill at any moment and for the second time, you feel your throat closing up.

"Well?"

Another breath prompts you to cough violently before you regain your voice a little, only able to hush out a little 'hurts'. Childe watches your pathetic state, trying to hide how your flushed face and weak exterior makes him dizzy in all the wrong ways. Oh he can't wait to absolutely ruin you.

"You'll be okay. Now get up." He tenderly cups your cheek to plant a kiss on your lips. "Come with me, I have something to show you."

"You're horrible," you whisper.

"I'm aware."

Voice raspy, you don't hesitate to look him in the eye with all the hatred you could muster, "I hate you."

"Not for long."

What the hell is that supposed to mean?

"Now get up. Do I have to repeat myself again?"

With a scowl, you allow him to grab you by the shoulders to help you stand. Your hand now unwillingly clasped in his, Childe leads you to your shared bedroom without any comments whatsoever. Once there, you're left in the middle of the room as he turns to lock the door.

Your heart drops when the click resonates through the silence, eyes cast down onto the floor as you focus on steadying your breathing.

"You haven't been talking to me like yourself recently."

Due to him being barefoot, there's no sound when he walks over to you and starts circling you like in an interrogation.

"Is there anything on your mind?"

You shake your head.

"Anyone on your mind?"

You shake your head again.

"Then why are you acting this way?"

He's right in front of you now, hands hanging at his sides as he stares you down with those cold blues.

"I'm not acting any certain way," you respond.

With narrowed eyes, he merely clicks his tongue and takes a step forward. The gravity of the situation weighs down on you when he caresses your lips with his finger.

"You're such a good kisser. I'm sure we could put those lips to good use."

Panic mixes with the blood pumping throughout your body as he starts unbuttoning his shirt, coat already forgotten on the coat rack.

"I've been busy so I didn't get to attend to you properly. I hope this makes up for it," he smiles. With his shirt sliding off his shoulders, he pulls you in by the neckline as he backtracks to the bed behind him.

"Wouldn't you bless me with your heavenly voice, sweetheart?"

#genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact imagines #childe x reader #yandere x reader #yandere childe #yandere childe x reader #yandere tartaglia x reader #tartaglia x reader #yandere tartaglia #yandere genshin x reader

[vitaminseetarot]

PAC: Lunar Eclipse - General Messages

Sup y'all, I'm back for the second round of my PAC marathon happening before the end of October! I wanted to pull some guidance from this lunar eclipse season, especially since it's felt very energetically heavy since the last full moon. All three piles are going through some stage of great transformation taking place -- just in time for Scorpio season.

To assist me, I've consulted three red dragons, known in the deck as Watcher dragons, to help you choose your reading. I like Universal Dragon oracle as an "energy" deck by embodying the traits each dragon represents through meditation practice, and these red dragons specialize in guiding through important life transitions. If you prefer to choose intuitively by color, I've also added three gemstones for your piles below:

Pile 1, Knowledge Dragon + Cherry Quartz Pile 2, Awakening Dragon + Lepidolite Pile 3, Emergence Dragon + Lapis Lazuli

Pile 1: Knowledge Dragon + Cherry Quartz

Supermoon, 21. Venus, 5. Heart Healing, Alcalb: Poison and Medicine, 4 of Cups, 2 of Wands, VI Lovers, King of Pentacles, XX Judgement

Please be gentle with yourself at this time, pile 1. You're in need of a soothing kind of support. This could be a turbulent time to deal with purging out any negativity from your past. You may get reminders of some old issues which return out of nowhere to grab your attention. Even if occasional, you may need to remind yourself that you will be okay.

Be open with giving yourself comfort, or letting others baby you a little bit when you're feeling down. The King of Pentacles could be you or someone else, but this is the profile of somebody who is generous and aims to please. Embodying Venusian energy, this King wants you to feel at rest and does not mind offering tasty fruit or a warm blanket to cheer you up. Sitting next to the Four of Cups, it may be emphasizing that you need to allow yourself the chance to receive this care.

If your issue is related to a partnership, going out and spending time with friends or even on your own may be a better way to take it easy, instead of trying to work out anything now. This is not the exact time or place to be settling out bigger issues in your relationships unless it's urgent. They'll show up on their own time anyway. This reading wants to focus on maintaining your emotional well being. If this is not relationship but involves a situation in the present, then step away as much as you can and be as kind and patient with yourself as possible.

The key here is to maintain self awareness when these strong emotions move through you, that's what the Knowledge dragon wants you to know. "Knowing is half the battle." There may be a strong pull to making the kind of choices that can lead to major growth in your life path, but although new events and alliance are waiting ahead of you, the lunar eclipse is a golden opportunity to just purge and completely release whatever trauma based feelings are trying to hold you back.

You could be particularly affected by the phases and placements of the moon. Check your natal chart to see and compare the transiting moon with yours, see how the moon makes contact with other planets as it moves through each of the signs. If you're interested in brushing up your studies, whether astronomy or astrology, this is a very good time to glean a lot more insight than normal. It's easier to learn lessons when you're in a state of ease.

(extra note: I see multiple fruits in your pile: the apple stained glass, cherry quartz, pomegranate, and the berries the blue jays are holding. Fruits can be a reference to eating healthy snacks, or an emphasis on romance. These mood swings may feel intense, but they will yield fruit for you. Please take it how it resonates for you.)

Pile 2: Awakening Dragon + Lepidolite

Full Moon Sagittarius, 15. Retrograde, 6. Freedom, Aldebaran: Destruction and Rejection, Knight of Wands, 6 of Cups, 8 of Wands, 9 of Swords, 8 of Swords

Hey pile 2, you picked one of my favorite cards in this dragon deck! I love how the light in the tree hollow resembles a portal. The energy of the Retrograde card looks to be the very opposite: all the colors of nature are drained, and all that's left are structures of near perfect symmetry and order. It's almost like you're the figure in the Retrograde card who's actually looking back and choosing to leave behind the old structure for the new and unknown with nervous enthusiasm., but not without wistfulness.

This is something you've likely sensed would happen and now that the predicted situation is at hand, things must change quickly to adjust. It reminds me of movies where the character is watching something like a building fall or a ship sink, but they have an escape pod where they can be safe with family. In these movies, the character always takes another look back to remember all the good and bad times that made it so special. The character wants to stay in that space forever until the others shout "c'mon! Hurry up!"

It's understandable that when we sense a big change is underway, we take time out to appreciate the good times had. There's a difference, though, between simply being nostalgic by enjoying memories, and the fear based resistance of walking towards whatever lies ahead. You may have recently gone through a deep shadow work period where some of your anxieties were brought to light and dealt with. You're nearing the end of this difficult cycle, however, so give yourself the chance to breathe a little before moving on.

When the next chapter comes, it may happen rather quickly. That's why the Six of Cups and Lepidolite want you to take a step back just a little and heal your more gentle, imaginative, fun loving side. Read an old comic book or bake cookies, surround yourself with familiar things. This will allow you to be more flexible and resilient about encountering anything that comes next, instead of feeling worn out.

You're at a place now where you're ready to let go of an old cycle, one that kept you feeling a little stuck in the dark. Some balance is needed. Enjoying pieces of the past does not mean getting mired in it and unable to progress. If anything, sometimes it's necessary to take a step back to move two steps forward, like when we watch a movie twice and see new things we hadn't noticed during the first watch. Bring the best from the past with you. When the time is right, don't be afraid to not run, not walk, but to step carefully into the portal.

Pile 3: Emergence Dragon + Lapis Lazuli

South Node, 8. Scorpio, 2. Understanding, Atlas: Guidance and Discovery, XX Judgement, VII Chariot, 4 of Wands, Knight of Swords, XV Devil

Overwhelmingly, pile 3, I'm seeing that you're getting the green light to go ahead and embark on your next path. Notice all the teal color in your oracle cards? It's a popular color in hospitals as it provides a gentle contrast to healing that could be painful and frightening for patients. I initially imagined someone wading through a dark sewer only to approach the light of the other side. In the Understanding card, you can see that the hooded figure is walking over the stream and not in it. It's as if the bridge appeared out of nowhere. And the water looks pure and flowing smooth.

Something in your external world may be pushing you along to your next journey, whether or not you're entirely ready. What is it you would like to do, or where is it you would like to go next? I feel with the Judgement card, it's talking about a specific issue or event in your life. It's less a case of throwing darts to see what will stick and more of following the path that aligns with your true self. Your life is leading you to your life path with two thumbs up.

It's as if Judgement as a card represented an intersection, where many roads of various directions diverge into one area. You must put your turn signal on and indicate where you plan to proceed next. The sooner you can get clear on which road to take, the faster your next chapter will roll out. Just make sure you're using the right signal.

The biggest hurdle to overcome will be the ever present comfort zone. A comfort zone is not something to be fought. It's a necessary part of keeping up with the body and mind. Imagine constantly taking in novel material? That's what babies do, and they speak in gurgles 'cause they can hardly stand that everything is so new! It can be overwhelming.

People aren't always meant to push themselves to miserable exhaustion like Atlas just because a life of being more relaxed and certain seems boring and less fulfilling. But at the same time, we must learn to expand past what we know and love to something fresh and exciting. Whatever goal you're seeking to start or resolve, the light is green and you have the right of way. Spend time getting clear on your choices. But don't hold back anymore!

This reading has not been evaluated by the FDA to diagnose, prevent, treat, or cure any disease or infection. Please ask your physician before going online.

2023, @VitaminseeTarot ™

#tarotblr #tarot #tarot community #general reading #pac #pick a card #pick a picture #pick a pile #psychic readings #pick an image #pick a crystal #dragon reading #oracle #oracle cards #lunar eclipse #tarot cards #astro tarot #tarot reading #tarotcommunity #divination #tarot deck #intuitive #intuitive reading #vitaminseetarot #vitaminsee

[realcube]

hey hey hey sweetie!!! do you mind if i ask for saiki with a flirty s/o?? like, they're in a "secret relationship" (don't ask me why but it seems fun) and when the two of them are alone y/n is just openly flirting with him and kissing him on the lips because- why not 🤨🤨 i hope i'm not bothering you!!! thank you so much!!!

SAIKI WITH A FLIRTY S/O

tws ♡ gaslighting? but not really 

a/n ♡ asks are never a bother ! tysm for the request :D this was very entertaining to write haha

♡ depending on how “secret” the relationship is and how you treat him in public or at school, saiki will literally return that same energy 

♡ if you’re more open and put on the “good friends with chemistry” act and still hang out with him and his little group of friends, then he’ll treat you like he treats his friends 

♡ which isn’t the best, granted, but he cares deep down! 😅

♡ plus, it’s better than what were to happen if you act as though he doesn’t exist 

♡ not only will he be the slightest bit offended, but he’ll also be annoyed because he’ll need to continue making everything in your life perfect, while acting as though he doesn’t even know your name !

♡ and yes, he’s aware that using his powers from afar to make everything in your life unrealistically perfect is probably morally incorrect somehow, but he doesn’t have any time to think about it critically as he’s too busy trying to use his telekinesis to make two milk cartons fall out the vending machine, instead of one

♡ and if you even try to text him about his antics 

♡ ‘saiki !!! stop using your powers for me !!!’

♡ he will use his most powerful psychic ability: gaslighting (girlbossing and gatekeeping)

♡ ‘what are you talking about?’

♡ ‘you using your telekinesis to give me more milk from the vending machine!!!’ 

♡ ‘that wasn’t me’

♡ ‘then who was it, kusuo?’

♡ ‘the milk gods?? maybe you’re the chosen one. anyway, stop messaging me, stranger.’

♡ he’s infuriating, to say the least 

♡ he’s lucky you’re even nice to him in private lol

♡ but after a long day of getting on each others nerves, you can come over to his house, bake some sweet treats, watch some TV, play some video games and simply love each other, as couples do 

♡ and to make up for how distant you are during the day, sometimes, you are extra affectionate during these private, intimate moments !!

♡ you even flirt with him as if y’all aren’t already dating which both confuses and flusters him every single time 

♡ he always tries to give sarcastic and nonchalant responses to your advances to seem ‘cool’ but in reality you can tell he’s losing his mind beneath the surface 

♡ but you allow him to revel in the fantasy that he is coming off as aloof and mysterious instead of just ... hypnotised and awkward 

♡ though it does make you feel quite powerful 

♡ with a single kiss on the cheek, you are able to stun the guy that can make the entire world implode with a single sneeze 

♡ and every time you express affection, you manage to pull a different reaction from him depending on his mood 

♡ but never once has he pulled the annoyed face ! he actually retired that after you told him it was “inappropriate” and “rude” to make the annoyed face while nendou is trying to tell him about his terrifying and life-threatening encounter with freddy fazbear in the shower 

♡ most of the time, his reaction is just a bright red blush but an expression like 😐

♡ and when he receives affection from you (and you exclusively), a remarkable phenomenon occurs in which his internal dialogue stops spitting sarcastic remarks for five whole second 

♡ scientists detected an absence of cosmological redshift in the five days proceeding 

♡ coincidence , i think not !!!

♡ but anyway, that is probably the least dramatic thing that has happened after you’ve been intimate with him 

♡ after your first kiss, he accidentally magnified a wormhole 

♡ he had to go back in time to fix it so actually the “first kiss” with saiki that you remember is entirely different to what he remembers and your first kiss with him is his second first kiss with you 

♡ so there are definitely downfalls to dating a psychic 

♡ but he’s accepted that he needs to learn how to control his powers better and stop having such volatile reactions to your affection but it is certainly not going to stop anytime soon

#saiki x you #kusuo saiki x reader #saiki kusuo #kusou saiki x reader #saiki k #i've forgotten how to tag #kusuo x reader

[ladyodaskonpeito]

Trick or treat!

Thank you so much for the ask!

Since no fandom is specified, please have this WIP I wrote from some time ago (Zakkura fic, FFVII):

Cloud wakes up on the wrong side of the bed on the fine morning of his 28th birthday. He creases his brow as soon as he realises that the other side of the bed is cold and empty. Zack has, uncharacteristically, woken up earlier without arousing Cloud. A job in Sector 8. Will be out for the entire day, his note reads. Made strawberry pancakes for breakfast, so don't forget to eat your fill before heading out! Don't wait for dinner with me tonight, this might end later than usual. XOXO Zack Cloud frowns as he recalls how he had missed Zack before falling asleep the previous night. He had been looking forward to hearing Zack's birthday wishes for him, which always arrive as soon as the clock strikes midnight throughout the years they've been together. Maybe he'd been spoiled rotten by his husband, Cloud thinks. The rest of the day isn't any kinder to him either, as he makes his usual deliveries and has the misfortune of coming across entitled customers complaining about his delivery speed. In hindsight, Cloud now clenches his teeth in regret for giving up his last name. He should have insisted that Zack Strife sounds so much better than Cloud Fair. Sure, he knows this sounds incredibly petty. But can he be blamed for feeling neglected on his birthday? Despite his easy-going attitude and happy-go-lucky demeanour, Zack is usually an attentive and meticulous lover. Cloud worries his lower lip as he contemplates what might have changed this year. When Zack eventually reaches home that night, Cloud has gone down the rabbit hole of imagining what happens if Zack falls out of love with him. Has Zack finally gotten tired of him? Has he finally realised that Cloud is not worth his affection after all? “Hey, babe,” Zack flashes his smile at Cloud, seemingly unaware of the latter’s foul mood. Cloud has to admit, finally seeing that charming smile of his does make the day slightly more tolerable. If only his husband would finally wish him a happy birthday. “How was your day?” is what Zack opts for instead. So Cloud entertains the conversation but omits the details to avoid disclosing what a terrible day he’d had. He also fails to mention how it’d go a hundred times worse if Zack were to forget about his birthday. “Look what I found when I was on my way back from Sector 8,” Zack holds out a yellow rose. “It reminds me of Aerith.” Cloud gives a noncommittal huh in response to that and raises a brow. “I’m thinking we should visit her tonight, it’s been so long since we’ve had a chat after all,” Zack muses. “I can imagine she’d be delighted to receive a gift like this.” Cloud isn’t sure how he feels about that idea. Maybe he’s a little too tired from his work, or maybe he’s sensitive when it comes to this (because come on, this is his husband’s ex we’re talking about). He clenches his fist and he can’t help but heave a sigh. Zack looks at him expectantly, still. “How about no,” says Cloud in a quiet voice. “Why not?” Geez, Zack can be so tactless at times. Cloud scowls. “Because aren’t you forgetting something?” Zack appears to ponder over the question for a few moments. “Hmmm,” He eyes the ceiling and strokes his chin as he contemplates. “I was sure we have no other plans for the night… Do you have anywhere else you need to be?” Cloud tsks. Count on Zack to come to that conclusion for why I disapprove. “If that’s the case would you at least give me a lift on your way there? I’m sure you can still reach in time with how fast Fenrir can be,” Zack is giving him puppy eyes, seemingly not even the slightest bit ashamed of the selfish request. Cloud rolls his eyes and complies reluctantly. He really doesn’t want to make this day any worse than it already is by ending it with an argument. At least he can go out for some fresh air after dropping Zack off to spend time alone. To enjoy some peace and quiet. To celebrate his birthday alone. To contemplate why his life has come full circle into loneliness’ embrace again.

Zack actually has a surprise birthday party planned for Cloud at Aerith's place, I just haven't gotten to writing that part out for at least two years already 🙈

Once again, the ask is much appreciated as this thing at least got the chance to see the light of day. I hope you'll enjoy a happy Halloween ahead, @thefinaljediknight!

#ask box game #I q my answers #ffvii #zakkura #zack fair #cloud strife

[everythingsinred]

Let's Talk About NatsuMikan: Mikan (pt. 22)

Mikan has just entered an arc of personal anguish! Though multiple people are affected by Luna, the target here is Mikan. She is particularly affected by Luna's focus on stealing Natsume away, since he's pretty much already chosen her over Mikan.

Jealousy is the main thread in this arc so that's what I'm focusing on. I do call this the Sports Fest Arc, but it's also a Jealousy Arc! Isn't that so fun?

<- Prev Next ->

Chapter Eighty-One

Mikan being represented by hydrangeas on the cover: “Frivolity, cruelty, patient love, high spirits, maiden’s dream.” Two of these instantly stand out for Mikan: frivolity and high spirits. Cruelty is an interesting part of the symbolism, since Mikan is never cruel. Unfortunately, she is dealing with a lot of other people’s cruelty currently, specifically from Luna. I’m not entirely sure what a maiden’s dream is specifically meant to represent, but a maiden is an unmarried woman, so I assume that this combined with patient love is meant to refer to her current affections for Natsume. “Maiden’s dream” might refer to the dream of romantic love, but, as we’ll see through this arc, Mikan has to be patient with Natsume. All very interesting.

The text at the bottom discusses the symbolism about hydrangeas, which is very relevant for Mikan in this arc!

The arrest turns out to be a ruse. Goshima has saved her and lets her go, warning her not to get caught again. He’s been sent by someone looking out for her from the shadows. We know that the person is her uncle, Kazumi, the High School Principal, but the important thing here is Goshima establishing himself as an ally when he is really a traitor. There's an easy trust given to him, despite how sketchy he seems.

Mikan returns in high spirits, happy that someone is looking out for her. And things only get better when she realizes that Tsubasa is on her team, in the flesh after such a long time of not seeing him. He starts off teasing, but Mikan embraces him, tearing up. She has missed him a lot and needed her senpai to help her through the recent challenges she’s been facing. 

Mikan’s relationship with Tsubasa is very much akin to a sibling relationship. Tsubasa is her reliable older brother, always there to help her and provide support. His absence meant that Mikan now had a hole where she wasn’t receiving the support she needed, where Tsubasa hadn’t been there, reliable like always. Though it likely happened off the page, Mikan might have stopped by the SA class after the fiasco with Luna and Natsume choosing the White Team to see Tsubasa and receive some comfort, just to see him gone again.

Mikan’s crying because she missed him, but especially because he was gone during a particularly unideal time. 

They <3

But Tsubasa stays upbeat and smiling, promising that he’ll make up for his absence now. What I love so much about their relationship is that Tsubasa treats Mikan’s sadness with care and gentleness. Others might tell Mikan to smile or to stop crying, but Tsubasa doesn’t. I’d said before that he instead gives her a reason to smile, and that’s true here too. He validates her sadness by apologizing and sympathizing with her. Then he smiles and tries to cheer her up with kind and heartfelt words. It’s a very mature way to deal with her feelings.

The thing is that whenever Mikan’s mood brightens, Luna comes around to crush her again. This time, a rumor has spread that Mikan got out of trouble by showing the fukitai her underwear. She is aware of these rumors, she confesses, but she’s focusing on the fun she’s having and seeing Tsubasa again because, as we know, she can’t argue against them anyway.  She sees Natsume with Luna again and is sad that they seem to be spending all their time together. 

Jealousy jealousy jealousy jealousy jealousy.

Something something, Mikan specifically thinking about Luna telling her to be quiet when she looks at Natsume, the person she wants to talk to most but the one person she feels like she can't talk to... Unless?

Then Natsume approaches her. Mikan has been on edge around him, partly because he chose another girl over him, partly because they’re not partners anymore so she doesn’t know what they are and doesn't really wanna think about it, partly because she loves him and has no idea what to do with her conflicting feelings. As a result, she freaks out when he comes up to her. He asks her straight up if the rumor is true. 

We know that Natsume is asking to test if Mikan is under Luna’s influence like he is, but Mikan doesn’t know that. She is hurt that he could actually believe that stupid rumor. He should know her better than that! Especially because so far, he has demonstrated that he knows her pretty well. How could he be so far gone for Luna that he could forget her?

“Is he a moron?!” she thinks and it’s fun to see her saying that about him for once. It’s not just that he’s wrong about her, but that he’s so wrong and so completely off-base about her character. He’d have to be stupid to fall for this nonsense, but of course, Mikan can’t say anything. She doesn’t confirm or deny. Instead she evades. She tells him it’s none of his business.

But that doesn’t send him away. Instead, the conversation intensifies. He then asks her what happened between her and Luna. Mikan, haunted by Luna’s threats, has no choice but to dismiss him entirely. He’s Luna’s partner now, not hers. “You’re not my partner or anything anymore.” That nagging question of what they are without being partners has reemerged. They obviously aren’t really friends, and that would be true even if Luna hadn’t come around. Their feelings for each other are certainly not platonic, but Mikan is purposefully not examining why Natsume is different to her right now. So she says he’s not “anything” to her, which couldn’t be further from the truth. It hurts, but if she wants to keep Natsume safe, then this is what she has to do.

T'was said to hurt him like he hurt her. Alas.

He then asks if it bothers her to see him worry about her and that’s the worst thing he’s said so far. Even if they’re not partners, he’s saying that he still worries about her. He’s not just asking these questions out of obligation but out of genuine concern. She’s of course touched that he cares, but she remembers that he had chosen White Team even after she’d asked him to stay with her, so she says, “yes,” that his concern is a nuisance.

Chapter Eighty-Two

“It’s opening ceremonies, but my heart is holding closing ceremonies.” That’s a very interesting way to put it. It’s the beginning of the event, but Mikan is miserable. Her heart in particular feels like this is the end of something. Like her relationship with Natsume, for example (but not her feelings, no).

Yikes!

She says she “didn’t mean to say” that Natsume’s worry was bothering her, which makes me think that although she’d meant in some way to dismiss him because of Luna’s threats, she said what she said to hurt him in some way for snubbing her and choosing White Team. She’d said it without thinking. It aligns with what Luna wants, so she can’t take it back, but it’s not really how she feels at all. I think that makes sense. For all of Natsume assuring her he cares, he did reject her request to join her team. He chose Luna over her, and that’s clearly not something Mikan has gotten over.

She puts a lot of effort into having fun despite this misery, though. She puts her all into performing and exercising with her team. She’s an early participant in the obstacle relay race. Mikan isn’t happy about this. This game is all about luck, something she’s not confident she has, especially nowadays. Plus she’s on Jinno’s team, which means she’s under a lot of pressure.

But she runs into Ruka, one of her competitors now. We can see from this page that Ruka wants to tell her not to worry about the earlier run-in with Natsume. We already know that Ruka is aware of the situation Natsume is in, that he’s not acting this way because he wants to. But sadly, Ruka can’t say much. It’s not his place, and if he says anything, he might make it worse. Instead, he tells her that they should both do their best and not get hurt. 

I really don't wanna understate my love for their friendship~

That means a lot to Mikan, to know that he’s still on her side despite everything, that Ruka would act against the rules to comfort her, even in a small way. It’s a short-lived moment, but it still stands out to her and gives her some much-needed energy for her part in the race. Mikan is athletic, even if she isn’t lucky, so she does pretty well for the most part until the ball riding part, where she sadly gets crushed by her large ball. She is victorious, but at a heavy cost, so she’s exhausted once she’s passed on the baton.

A lot of the rest of this event is watching others participate, so there isn’t much of Mikan by herself. Instead, she’s reacting with awe or shock or amazement.

Chapter Eighty-Four

Before you ask why I skipped 83, I’ll explain that again, most of that chapter is Mikan reacting instead of acting. There isn’t much to analyze in her expressions and so I skipped it. The important summary is that the chapter continues the relay race, notably where Natsume and Ruka are on opposing teams for the end, and Ruka was able to win, making him (in his own words) “number one” in Mikan’s eyes, if only for a moment. 

Mikan is very happy for him that he won, in any case, even if it means her team lost. It’s now lunch time and Mikan is insecure about her lunch, which is once again determined by star rank. When Ruka comes by, Mikan invites him to eat with the group of friends she’s gathered, especially incentivized by the greedy idea that they could pool and share their lunches.

Greedy, gluttonous Mikan.

But her friends leave. Koko and Kitsu are motivated by leaving Ruka and Mikan alone due to the circulating rumors that they are now an item, and Hotaru motivated by her desire to have her whole lunch to herself.

The class has taken Ruka’s victory and subsequent calling of Mikan’s name as a love confession, and that her happiness for him was a kind of response. Mikan doesn’t seem privy to this, but now people assume they’re going out. Unfortunately for Ruka, that’s not the case. Even though they’re eating lunch alone together, Mikan immediately asks about Natsume.

Not because she wanted to eat lunch with him, of course! Because why would she wanna do that? Aside from the fact that she misses him and wanted him to be on her team and all that nonsense. Instead she confesses that she’s worried about him. If Natsume isn’t eating lunch with his best friend, could he be eating lunch alone?

Sumire comes around to smother that concern, though. He’s with Luna, of course. No need to worry about him. Sumire whines about what Natsume could possibly see in Luna and all the time they’re spending alone--and Mikan’s expression falls. She’s back to being jealous, because for a moment she’d forgotten about Luna and her vice grip over every aspect of Mikan’s happiness.

Her sad little face when she finds out Natsume is with Luna ;-;

Sumire quickly changes the subject, asking if the rumors that Mikan and Ruka are dating are true. Mikan denies it adamantly and doesn’t really seem to mind Sumire joining them for lunch, though Ruka doesn’t seem like a fan of the idea. Sumire is only kept away by the invention of Koko and Kitsu who are content to help Ruka make his love connection.

I had said before that I think Mikan is very confused about romance. She will continue to be, obviously, but I think things are clearing up. For a while, Mikan was entirely oblivious to love and romance and how it intersects and differs from platonic affection. She went from only wanting to get it so she could fit in to getting the vibe that maybe Ruka doesn’t just see her as a friend. I’d said then that I think Mikan’s propensity to blush or behave the way she does stems mainly from confusion about whether or not her own feelings align with his. 

I think that she’s becoming less oblivious about the nature of her feelings. And at this point, I think things are clearing up: though she still cannot admit it to herself, she has feelings for Natsume and deep down she knows that the way she feels for him is not the same as the way she feels for Ruka or her other friends. He's always been different.

So no, Mikan doesn’t want to date Ruka at this point, so she doesn’t mind if someone else joins them for lunch. She still loves him, but the affection is platonic in nature. They eat lunch together, and I have to wonder if Mikan got her wish and was able to get some triple star goodies from Ruka’s lunch to satisfy her appetite.

When lunch ends, it’s time for the Borrowing Race. Lucky for Mikan, she’s only observing for this one since she’s already participated today. Mikan is excited to see some familiar faces in the race. For the most part, there’s a lot of chaos but not much real drama involved with this race, at least none that involves Mikan. She’s instead focused on Hotaru and her brother, so she’s distracted when one of the runners comes by to grab her by the wrist and start pulling her into the race. 

Who could it be!

She runs along, but she has no idea who this masked person is or what prompt she could possibly be satisfying for an apparent stranger. But it’s not entirely true that she has no idea who is pulling her along. Mikan is frequently oblivious or stupid--I’ve said that enough times already. She’s definitely not certain about who it could be, but I think she has a pretty good idea.

They arrive at the finish-line and Mikan tries to ask the person who they are, only to be distracted by the explosions of fireworks and words in the sky spelling out, “Person you love.”

A real actual love confession and the racer--Kusami--gets full points. 

But Mikan sees his earring and recognizes it. That’s not Kusami--it’s Natsume.

NATSUME LOVES YOU, MIKAN.

And he got full points. Which means that it’s a real love confession…

But he’s running off--just like he did in Chapter 77--so she has to chase after him again, just like she did before. All she wants is for him to stay beside her but he’s always turning and running away, and she’s always looking at his back. He’s too fast too, and is able to escape from her. 

Mikan finds out then that the Borrowing Race is over and the Red Team won, since her racer had turned out to be an imposter--meaning White Team lost penalty points. It’s like further evidence that Mikan’s gut feeling is right and that it was Natsume who confessed to her. 

Conclusion

This arc means so much to me. Pure jealousy. I love it. Tomorrow, we'll wrap up the Sports Fest and further dive into Mikan's feelings for Natsume. Everything will come to a boil and eventually, Luna will have to be confronted, once and for all.

I have officially written my whole essay. It's all done. So I'll post as often as I can to get all the parts out there, so this essay can be wrapped up and I can move on to new projects! I was particularly excited about writing this Sports Fest analysis, so I hope y'all have fun reading!

<- Prev Next ->

#gakuen alice #alice academy #ga #sakura mikan #mikan sakura #natsume hyuuga #hyuuga natsume #my meta #ga meta #ga meta: nm #ga meta: manga #ga meta: manga nm #let's talk about natsumikan #let's talk about natsumikan: mikan #nm: m song of the day is..... #happy for you ava della pietra #more jealousy songs!!!!!! can never have enough really!! #i got up early to post this so now i can run off and write my fanfic <3

[driedrottenflowersblog]

To be happy

This is notes from 2-hour podcast from Huberman Lab podcast, eps 98: Science-based tools for increasing happiness.

Happy or happiness here defined as a state of body. Kinda similar to what it means for being healthy, but expand the meaning "healthy". From what he said I kinda think he meant being happy means you're being mentally healthy.

Language (happy, content, joyful, delight, meaning) is not a reliable description for the state of happiness.

There is no chemicals in brain which individually responsible to the state of happiness--> though lower baseline of serotonin and dopamine usually for being in high or low mood.

Money cant buy happiness but it sure can buffer stress.

Sleep, nutrition, social interaction, purposeful work (paid/non-paid work), exercise, pet (?)

U-shaped function in life stages (x-axis) vs happiness (y-axis). --> on why in middle stage of life tend to be less happy : raising children --> peer-pressure, much higher awareness on where you are in comparison to other in that age.

Chronic smokers and alcohol consumers anticorrelated with happiness.

Natural happiness (long-term pursuit of happiness) / synthetic happiness --> synthetic happiness need some conditioning to be induced --> apparently give similar effect --> as simple as making workspace "cheerful" --> the pressure from common notion, that happiness comes from within, isnt exactly true --> environment (physical and social) DOES AFFECT happiness level. --> synthetic >< self-directed happiness

Receiving gratitude (genuine) > observing powerful exchange of gratitude from other people (movie etc) > giving gratitude (genuine) --> associated with happiness/ well-being --> its not morally false to actually be wanting this out of selfish purpose (to be happy).

"Spending money on others promote happiness" --> but if the one receiving genuinely need it.

A wondering mind is unhappy mind. --> regardless of whether the activity we were engaging not particularly enjoyable --> focus mind is "happier" state. --> wandering mind is the cause, not the effect of. --> building focus and stay present is one way to be happy --> short meditation (13 min) --> ability to focus is possible to built

Quality social connection is extremely powerful (romantic, friendship, even daily superficial connection), even as simple as recognizing familiar faces in crowds --> presence and eye contact --> consensual grooming (?) or physical touch

synthetic happiness -==- fabricated happiness

notion of option vs happiness --> when people an ongoing set of choices, it reducing happiness. --> not exactly mean when you have options--> you'll be happy but.. once you settle on one option, making other options still available --> I think he have mentioned this in his tweet but I kinda want to paraphrase it (just in the mood for paraphrasing now).. Intense cognitive work is metabolically draining And hence brain actually have limited resources Eventually synthetic or fabricated happiness is sets of dos and donts in order to preserve that mental state When we put our mind in wondering "what will happen if.." or "i can actually do… instead of the thing im doing now…", we are wasting those limited resource and become less satisfied with the choice we made. and become less happy.. So deliberately limit the other options and the thoughts about the other option --> better.

Final takeout Natural happiness : rewards after efforts Synthetic happiness : social connection --> doesnt mean fake happiness, but happiness which can be obtained through deliberate action + engaging on something

Ability to be happy = ability to focus/give attention

Personal comments

Social deprivation (I guess this is what makes me "miserable" during this years in Thailand) --< kinda normalize my introverted nature, w/o awareness of genuine relationship require mediocre friendship first. --< not trying to blame my environment, but the it does takes part (lesson for me: whenever im exposed to new environment, I should be expecting this already)

I wonder what purpose I actually have.

#huberman lab #Spotify

[childofthewargod]

"𝙳𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚞𝚗 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚘"

"𝙴𝚜𝚝𝚊 𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚊 𝚎𝚜 𝚖𝚒𝚊, 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚘 𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚣𝚘𝚗 𝚎𝚜 𝚜𝚞𝚢𝚘. 𝙴𝚜𝚝𝚊 𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚊 𝚎𝚜 𝚖𝚒𝚊, 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚘 𝚕𝚊 𝚛𝚊𝚣𝚘𝚗 𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚞"

1. "Mi amor, mio todo mio..."

Wherever they would go, a kiss would come along, a kiss would be everywhere and anywhere. On the cheek, on the forehead, on the palm of her hand, on the wrists, "don't forget the lips" he'd always say. There isn't a moment where Miles wouldn't remind Coco when and where he wants his besitos, there isn't a moment where Coco wakes up and she doesn't hear "good morning beso?", taking a shower of kisses instead of an actual shower. Miles would take advantage of his invisibility and use it to sneak up on her, lifting her chin up to get the perfect angle of her lips before pressing his on hers, chuckling once he'd make himself visible again. This doesn't catch Coco off guard, not when her Spider senses would tell her that there's someone near, nonetheless she does play along. The only time the kisses would be paused is when the couple would visit their parents, when they're lucky enough a small peck would be stolen, yet they keep themselves composed.

Crime has been dealt with? "Hicistes tan bien!" ("You did so well!") Miles would praise her, going on his knee and give her gloved hand a masked kiss. Accidentally got a boo boo when making dinner? "Te duele, mi Reina?" ("Does it hurt, my queen?") would be asked first before gently placing a band-aid around her finger, kissing it to kiss it better. Sees her applying lipstick for an important event? "Si me das un beso, te va dar mucho suerte" ("If you give me a kiss, it'll bring you good luck"), he'll apologize and offer to help reapply it on her lips. He's feeling extra affectionate? "Dame tu mano" ("Give me your hand"), he'll smell the perfume she sprayed on her wrist and kiss it gently, even if a little of it gets in his mouth. Happens to be in a good mood? "Me siento tan alegre que te puedo besar!" ("I feel so happy I could kiss you!") Forget all the small pecks, she's getting a shower of kisses.

2. "Despertando alado de ti es mi sueño"

The sun had risen, shining through the crack of the curtains and caress the skin of the spider couple, waking up Miles whereas a groan of annoyance towards the sun would leave his plump lips, using his arm to cover his honey brown eyes. He'll eye his ray of sunshine, the annoyance soon becoming joy upon seeing his sleeping beauty. Miles, feeling a little rebellious today, lied down next to her and made sure there was minimal space between them. Unfortunately, for him, Coco heard the rustling of the bed indicating that she was waking up, opening her eyes as they'd shine underneath the daylight, much because of their hazel brown color. "Dammit", Miles muttered under his breath, his brows furrowing in mock frustration yet the grin on his face would say he wasn't actually frustrated or annoyed. A comfortable silence, for a few minutes, perhaps 10 minutes, both of them staring at one another, smiling. He did receive a kiss from her in the end, which is a great way to start the morning.

His arms would be wrapped around her waist, Coco flipping the pancakes and sometimes offering a piece of fruit to Miles, her attention on the breakfast whilst intertwining one hand with him with the other busy finishing up the food. Una mañana muy normal, that's what Coco considers it at least, everyone else would call it "cheesy", not taking it to heart. No matter the time, no matter the location, the kisses will come and never go, not when Miles Morales was around and he has his mujer with him. Miles would buy pocky sticks for her, it was meant to be a gesture of love at first and show bit of affection, but when discovering the pocky game, he'd do it but in The Morales Way. Miles would take out the pocky from her mouth, his hand holding her chin and lifting it up to make her face him, and of course he'd kiss her because he doesn't let a day pass where he doesn't get a kiss. Just to tease her more, he'd eat the pocky stick himself and turn invisible, leaving Coco dumbfounded yet she would say one thing. "Can I still have the pocky sticks?"

3. "No me importa a donde estamos, te voy dar mi amor"

Despite being in the Spider Society, despite the tension between Morales and O'Hara, he'll still come along because it's his girl and having her away makes him feel as though he'll experience it again, therefore leaving her alone was a no-no unless she wants to be left alone, because despite being a little clingy, he'll respect his Ma's boundaries like a gentleman should. Miles would sometimes pull her to the side, speaking his Spanish that he's improved through out the years to her and peck her lips, some jealousy sparking within his heart yet teamwork gets the dreamwork therefore he doesn't get all too upset when seeing Coco speak to other members of the Spider Society. Miles, who felt particularly rebellious that day, would accompany her when passing files to the big man known as Miguel, just to spite him. Wrapping his arms around her waist, smiling smugly at the man who considered him a threat, who considered his girl a threat, yet she's so useful to the SS that they couldn't get rid of her yet.

He'll kiss her when they're going on walks, when swinging around the city for the camera crew to record it so the news and the people in Brooklyn have something to talk about, Miles would kiss her during one of their missions to "confuse the villain", when really he just couldn't get enough of her. We all know the iconic Spiderman upside down kiss, Miles would do that seeing Coco outside of her vigilante outfit, hanging upside down in front of her and "halting" her, and kissing her. If the roles were swapped Miles would steal her from the villain, give her a quick good luck kiss and let her continue the mission, with the new found confidence and energy he gave her through the kiss. If they're both in their vigilante outfits, it's only a matter of pulling up their masks to reveal the nose and lips, that's an easier way to share a kiss when finishing off with crooks that don't seem to ever learn when to stop taking money when they could earn it by working.

Don't worry, Miles will always make sure that Coco is comfortable enough to perform such acts, he wouldn't want mami to be upset or uncomfortable now would he? Miles would observe for specific gestures, a sign that would tell him that he shouldn't do that. He would offer hugs, hugs were always welcome with Miles whenever someone needs it, he'd hug her all day if he could and he has once, which resulted in a scolding from his parents but it was in the name of love instead of the law at that moment.

#miles morales 1610 #across the spiderverse #oc x canon #i love him #drawing made by me #Crying and sobbing #THIS IS SFW I PROMISE

[inmegsmind]

‘You are mine and I am yours.’

Young Sirius Black x Female Reader (SMUT 18+)

Description: Despite situationships becoming an inevitable aspect of teenage life, that doesn’t make them any easier to get through. After a lack of attention from Sirius, will your (justified) jealousy break or solidify your relationship?

Warnings: Angst, some fluff  Swearing, alcohol consumption, jealous reader (leading to slight Marlene slander but I love her really its just for the fic), SMUT, oral (female receiving), fingering, unprotected sex (p in v), light choking and hair pulling.

Word Count: 6130 words.

Author Note: This is slightly longer than I anticipated lmao, also will be updating Falling, my Regulus Black fan fic really soon, I sort of hit as block in my mind with it and decided that instead of struggling trying to complete that it would be better for me to work on some other fic ideas I had to try think about it with a fresh mind. Also I tried this fic with putting all the speech in bold & italic pls let me know if this is easier to read. Ty Ly xxx

-

As a teenager, situationships have become inevitable. Everyone wants someone but nobody wants to feel tied down. One drunken hook up with Sirius Black had led to another which led to a sober hook ups ending up in the pair of you only sleeping with each other but refusing to label what was basically a relationship.

You'd been warned about Sirius flirtatious ways, his charming smile and addictive attention but by this point you didn't care. It had been six months since you first hooked up after a party celebrating a Gryffindor win. Honestly, you didn't expect anything to come of it, you knew what Sirius was like and you weren't against random hook ups yourself then when it happened again you felt a small spark of pride knowing that it was rare for Sirius to go for the same girl twice. Then when the sober hook ups began becoming a regular thing you knew you were in for trouble. Secret hook ups were now a thing of the past and now the whole the school had become aware of the Hufflepuff who had caught the undivided attention of Sirius Black. Or so it seemed.

It had been well over a week since the last time the pair of you had been intimate and the lack of attention had began to take its toll on your mood. Every time you happened to run into him it was a rushed exchange, a quick hug and kiss on the head leaving you feeling annoyed, unwanted and needy for more affection.

These feelings seemed to reach boiling point as you sat in the Great Hall for your lunch and watched as Sirius and Marlene McKinnon obnoxiously and shamelessly flirted across at their table. You had never been a jealous person, always relaxed with a cool demeanour, this was one of the reasons Sirius grew fond of you. You knew he was a flirt, it didn't phase you, especially because you knew you'd been the only person he'd been sleeping with since after the first time you hooked up sober months before. However, things were different now that Sirius hadn't given you more than a second of attention yet was able to give Marlene all of his instead. It didn't help that you knew they'd hooked up before, You and Sirius had always been very transparent about who you'd been with in the past, not wanting the other to feel caught off guard by a sly comment or spiteful whisper.

'Merlin, what did that fork ever do to you?' Your friend, Jessica, whispered from beside you and you were snapped out of your jealous gaze to look down at the silver cutlery that was victim to the tight grip of your fist. Without realising you had been gripping it so tight that your knuckles had become an alarming shade of white.

'It's not what the fork did, it's what that prick is doing over there', Clara, your best friend, spat out as she also glared over at Sirius and Marlene. Jess discretely turned her head to understand and turned back making a grunt of disgust whilst rolling her eyes.

You just about managed to croak out a sorrowful ‘I just don’t get it’ ,your jealousy and anger being pushed aside by a feeling of sadness and embarrassment. It was no doubt that everyone in the school will have picked up on the fact they hadn't seen you with Sirius for days yet he was all over Marlene in front of everyone.

'What's to get? he's a dick and you' Clara pointed her fork at you 'are wayy too good missy'. Her matter of fact tone brought a small smile to your face as Jess muttered her agreement.

'Well we know that’s true' you jokingly responded whilst returning to your meal before continuing 'but like if he wants to end stuff why not just say instead of making me look stupid'

'Nuhh-uhh, you don't look stupid, he looks stupid and Marlene looks desperate, you haven't so much as reacted other than assaulting that poor fork, you look as cool and collected as ever' Jess cooed from across the table and you smiled gratefully at the mousey haired girl.

'Come on, lets get to out of here, if I sit and look at those pricks any longer I'm gonna get violent' Clara grumbled whilst slamming her cutlery down causing a few people to turn heads as the three of you gathered your things. Thankfully, the three of you had a free period next so you could go bask in the warm spring air rather than be cooped up in a dusty and dark classroom. The soft spring air filled your senses as the three of you perched yourself on your usual spot in the court yard. The stone that you sat on felt cold and soothing against your prickly hot skin as you leant against it. You pulled out your book from inside your bag as Jess began to plait Clara's hair, the three of you settling into a calming silence.

Unbeknownst to you, four infamous cheeky boys had noticed the three of you swiftly exit the Great Hall meaning you'd missed the announcement of their party that evening. Followed closely behind by Lily, Marlene, Dorcas and Mary, the Marauders set out to find you and knew that in a free period there was only one possible location.

You heard them before you saw them. The loud obnoxious laughs and hollers always meant that a group of Gryffindors were nearing but when they were this loud there was only 4 certain boys it could be. It took all of your power to not look up as you heard them crossing the court yard and when you were met with the giggles of the girls behind you knew not to dare look up.

'Ladies you missed the announcement' The voice of James Potter roared from a few centre meters away but you continued to keep your attention on the book, at this point not being able to process a single word on the page. You felt a thud beside you as the rich scent of cigarette smoke engulfed your senses, indicating Sirius had sat next to you. His arm made its way to drop around your shoulder but you shrugged it off still not daring to look up at him.

'The announcement?' Clara asked, not even the slightest hint of interest apparent in his voice. One thing you loved about your girls was if one of you had a problem or were upset by someone, all of you shared that feeling.

'Party, Gryffindor Common Room, 9pm, be there', the pride was apparent in Sirius voice as she shared the information which only made the scowl on your face grow, your grip on the book tightening as you continued feigning your interest in the pages.

'Hmm we'll think about' Jess nonchalantly replied and Remus let out a low 'Boo' followed by James' gasp. We were usually the first group to be up for coming to a party.

‘That’s alright cause I know my girl will defo be there, a bottle of fire whiskey Y/N? the usual?' Sirius teased from beside you whilst attempting to put him around you again but much to his dismay it was shrugged off again.

‘No thanks, I won't be coming' you replied bluntly and you thanked Merlin for the strength that came out when you spoke because you were sure your emotions would get the better of you and your voice would crack or come out angry. It was blunt, but calm, almost uninterested, much like Sirius had been in you for the last week.

'What do you mean you’re not coming?' Sirius interrogated from beside you and although you hadn't looked up you knew everyone's eyes were on you. Not wanting to satisfy him with a further answer you just shrugged your shoulders before turning the page in your book to keep up the image that you were indeed still reading.

'Girls you have to come, it won't be long till we graduate and we don't have many common room parties left.'

The sweet voice of Lily Evans attempted to persuade. Sirius eyes were burning holes into the side of your head and you began to shift awkwardly under the gaze before your book was snatched from your hands, almost tearing a page.

'What the fu-' You exclaimed, eyes snapping to Sirius who had a look of annoyance painted clearly on his face.

'Why wouldn't you come to my party? You always come' He quizzed as you reached for your book only to roll your eyes in annoyance as he stood with it out of your reach.

‘Because I don't want to' You replied coldly whilst reaching again to grab the book, becoming aware of how your skirt rose against your thighs as you strained to reach it, Sirius was all to well aware of this too as you noticed his eyes trailing down your legs which made your blood boil, and not in the usual erotic way either.

'Come on, who's gonna entertain me if you're not there' Sirius pouted his mood turning playful where as yours was only turning more angry.

Letting out a loud scoff you were quick to respond 'Oh I'm sure Marlene would be more than happy to do that Sirius, she seemed to be doing such a good job of it not even 10 minutes ago'. The words came out of your mouth in such a calm and casual tone that it sent a sinister shiver down Sirius spine. The atmosphere had very quickly changed and as you turned back to finally acknowledge the others stood spectating you became aware of the proud looks on the girls faces, the mortified look on the Marauders and the way Marlene's face had turned a deep shade of ruby, very fitting against her Gryffindor robes.

'Ohh grow up' Sirius rolled his eyes as you reached over to snatch the book from his grasp. Stuffing it back into your bag you quickly tried to escape the situation but was hindered by Sirius blocking your exit.

'You're not being serious' He continued confusion and a hint of annoyance flickering across his face. You stood for a second not answering, fully aware of the various sets of eyes glued to the pair of you. 'Well what do you expect Sirius? I've barely seen you and whenever I do you're rushing off, no time for me to plenty of time to flirt with girls right in front of me' You let out the smallest hint of the anger that had been building up inside you, watching as Sirius brain began to construct his answer.

'That’s not even the case plus I'm allowed to flirt if I want to, it's not as if you're my girlfriend or anything.' Sirius instantly regretted what he said as he watched the hurt wash over your face. Of course it was true and you knew that but it wasn't like he hadn't been acting like your boyfriend, you just hadn't made it official and it hurt to actually hear it.

'Yeah that is true but I'm also not a scrap on the side who you can pick and chose when you want to fuck'

Before Sirius had even had the chance to respond you were scuttling away with Clara and Jess hot on your heels.

-

The remainder of the school day went by painfully slow as you sat brewing over the earlier altercation with Sirius. Thankfully you didn't share many classes so didn't have the displeasure of seeing him as you tried your best to concentrate.

You were now sprawled out on your bed head lost in your book as you tried to distract yourself. After much protest you had managed to convince Clara and Jess to go to the party, you didn't want them to miss out on what would be a good night just cause you were feeling down. In order to be comfy you'd opted for just wearing some thigh high socks and a shirt that Sirius had gave you one time, taking in the scent as it was more than likely you'd be returning it to him soon.

Jess took a seat on the edge of your bed and reached out to stroke your hair before asking ‘Are you sure you don’t want us to stay?’

‘Or are you sure you don't want to join?' Clara chirped up and you playfully rolled your eyes at her relentless attempt to get you to get out and have some fun.

'I'll be fine girls, you both look so good so go have a good night and come back with lots of stories and gossip for me'

The three of you exchanged goodbyes before they headed off out leaving you in the peaceful silence of the dormitory. Carefully placing your bookmark to not lose your page, you collapsed back onto the bed with your eyes tightly shut trying your best not to let any of the tears that had been building all day to fall through.

-

A buzz of chatter floated through the bumping music within the Gryffindor Common Room. The party was in full swing, drunken teenagers laughing and hooking in every corner.

Sirius Black, the usual life of the party, stood leaning on the bannister of the stairs that led to the dormitory, a bottle of Fire whiskey in hand as he scanned the crowd. Every time someone appeared through the portrait he hoped it would be you, perking up slightly to only be disappointed. He didn't actually believe that you wouldn't come tonight, that was until it was an hour into the party and there was no sight of you.

'Give up mate, she's not gonna come' the voice of his best friend and wise advisor, Remus Lupin, startled him from behind before continuing 'And I don't blame her'.

'Leave it out Moony' Sirius grumbled before taking another sip of the scolding liquor. Much to his dismay Remus was not about to let it go.

'I just don't get you ya know, you've got this brilliant girl who's quite literally head over heels for you and as far as I was aware you were for her, yet you're desperate to fuck it up for no reason'

The bitter truth from Remus hit Sirius a bit harder than usual which he put down to the fire whiskey. Stuff had been going great between the pair of you, it was so good and so perfect that it scared him. He felt that the high of the relationship developing was so euphoric that if it crashed and burned the after math would be unbearable, and now he had caused it.

'It was too good to be true, eventually she was gonna realise I'm a fuck up and leave anyway' Sirius responded to Remus who scoffed and grabbed the bottle from his hands to prevent him taking another sip.

'Mate, you couldn't have got that any more wrong if you tried' Remus began before his eyes drifted away from the raven haired boy in front of him to something behind him. Sirius spun around in hope of seeing you in the crowd but instead he saw Clara and Jess just a few feet away chatting to Lily. Before he could even think of what he was doing he pushed his way through the crowd of bodies to get to them with Remus closely following behind.

'Fuck off Black, we have nothing to say to you' Clara was quick to snap as he stood in front of them but Sirius wasn't phased by her feisty nature after getting to know her over the past months.

'Where is she? Is she coming?' Sirius quizzed only to be met with scoffs and eye rolls from the three girls. 'Of course she's not Sirius, that was harsh' Lily scolded her friend, she'd said the same earlier to Marlene, feeling disappointed with the pairs behaviour.

‘I didn't mean to say what I said, it was harsh and she knows I didn't mean it'

'Well obviously she doesn't otherwise she would be here' Jess spat before continuing 'and your wasting your breath saying that to us, the person who you should be saying it to is alone in the common room because of what you said'

Sirius hung his head in shame as he ran his fingers through the hair that had fallen. Everything that everyone was saying to him was right and true but he just didn't know how to fix it.

  'Not that I want to help you or think you even deserve it but if I was you I wouldn't be wasting another second of time at this party, I would be down in our common room, trying my hardest to make her forgive me'

Sirius didn't need another second to think before he was racing up to the common room to grab the invisibility cloak and darting back out of Gryffindor tower.

-

Thankfully, you had snuck Sirius into the Hufflepuff common room multiple times over the last few months so he knew how to get in. He tapped the barrel, two from the bottom in the middle of the second row, in the rhythm of Helga Hufflepuff, and the entrance was revealed to him. Weary that there may still be a few stragglers or younger students still up and about, he remained under the shelter of the invisibility cloak as he crept his way up to your dormitory.

The large wooden door was slightly open and the dim light crept its way through into the corridor. He slowly tip toed his way over to the crack in the door to peer inside. You were there, sprawled across your bed, book in hand with your head facing away. Sirius felt his heart both flutter and pang with pain as he noticed you dressed in the shirt he had let you have, his eyes floating down to see the thigh high socks tightly gripping at your delicate skin. Trying his best not to make any noise he slipped through the door, moving it ever so slightly to fit his body through and lightly pushing it shut behind him. His intention wasn't to just suddenly appear and scare you but he felt too embarrassed to announce his presence in case you turned him away.

Unbeknownst to him, you could smell his aftershave that you so loved from a mile off, so had been notified of his presence as soon as he'd reached the top of the stairs to your dorm. Even if he was invisible, Sirius Black's presence would always be known to you. For what felt like hours but in reality must have been less than a minute, you attempted to ignore the fact you knew he was there but grew impatient waiting for him to make himself known.

'I know that's you Sirius' you declared, not drawing your attention away from the book but feeling the slight breeze as he removed the cloak. It took all of your strength not to turn and look at him.

'How did you know?' He asked quietly.

'I could smell you' you stated casually, still not breaking your attention from the book, ‘plus I could sense the door shutting and there is no breeze’

'Do I smell that bad?' Sirius attempted to joke in hope of lightening the mood but was only met with a death glare as his lack of seriousness for the situation irked you beyond belief. 'That was supposed to be a joke' he nervously admitted whilst bringing a hand up to awkwardly scratch the back of his neck.

‘Jokes are supposed to be funny', a statement that would usually be shared amongst the pair of you in a teasing matter suddenly becoming serious as your attention returned to the page in front of you. Of course you were no longer reading, you just didn't want him to get the attention he had failed to give you over the past days.

‘I know, I uh wanted to come and speak to you about earlier' Sirius began as he walked over to sit himself on your bed. His body language was awkward, something that had been foreign between the two of you up until this moment. You only hummed in response and Sirius felt dismay as you continued to look at the book and not fully engage with him.

'Look, I didn't mean what I said earlier, it was uncalled for and - can you at least look at me when I'm trying to apologise?' Sirius asked whilst reaching out his hand and placing it on the back of your sock covered calf. Your head spun around at the sudden and unexpected contact, finally taking him in for the first time. His hair was messy and falling in front of his face, just how you liked it. He wore a shirt similar to the one he had leant you that you were currently wearing, the top few buttons undone showing a peak of his porcelain chest.

'You might have not meant it Sirius but it's true, I'm not your girlfriend, if you wanted me to be surely I would be by now so it was just running on dead time for you wasn't it?' 

Although it was a question, it felt to Sirius as more of a statement, something that definitely wasn't true.

Sirius tried to begin again ‘No of course it wasn’t’ but you only cut him off, the last hour or so you had spent alone giving you time to think and construct the things you knew you would want to say when you finally confronted him.

'So why ignore me for the last week or so? Why all of a sudden act like I don't exist or that I'm one of the other girls you fuck and chuck? If that wasn't the case you would be exactly the same as you have been for months. Am I all of a sudden not good enough anymore? Are you bored of me now?'. 

The words poured out of your mouth like a flood of water engulfing everything in its path. Sirius sat there dumbfounded for a second, unaware how his behaviour in the last week had made you question yourself so much when he thought you were the best person he had ever met.

‘No Y/N, you've got it all wrong. It's not you' Sirius began to argue back but yet again you were quick to cut off his explanation. 'It's me, blah blah, that’s the oldest line in the book Sirius' you scoffed as you turned over fully and sat properly facing him this time. Despite the seriousness of the moment, Sirius couldn't help how his eyes wandered over the way his shirt slipped off your left shoulder ever so slightly displaying the skin he had kissed so many times, the way your hair dropped in front of your eyes that were beginning to well with tears.

Sirius responded through gritted teeth, ‘If you gave me a chance to explain myself you would know I wasn't going to say that'  growing frustrated with the situation that felt like it would never get resolved. It was your turn to sit slightly dumbfounded this time before mustering up a response.

‘What if I told you I don't care what you have to say?' you asked back with a shrug, even though you wanted to know exactly how he felt and Sirius knew the same as he confidently responded 'I'd say that you were lying'. The scoff that left your mouth rang into his ears as you attempted to get off the bed whilst muttering 'I think you should leave'.

Sirius took the opportunity he saw in front of him and instead of letting you go past him he lunged forward, pushing you back onto the bed and trapping your body underneath his as you shrieked in surprise. You were now trapped with your back against the plush duvet, Sirius pining both of your arms above your head with his one knee trapped between your thighs, dangerously close to where you'd wanted him most for the past few days, as he looked down at you through his messy fallen locks.

You hated to admit it but the proximity of your bodies after the days of feeling miles apart sent your head reeling. His hot breath tickled your face as the light scent of fire whiskey engulfed you. Staring back up at him you took a hard swallow, not trusting yourself to be the next one to speak.

'Still want me to leave?' he asked, almost too cockily earning another eye roll from you as you attempted to sit up only to be pinned back harder, his leg brushing ever so lightly against your clothed core. 'Yes' you managed to croak out, barely above a whisper and extremely unbelievable. Sirius leant closer and your breath got caught in the back of your throat as he leant into your ear.

'I don't believe you' he whispered and goose bumps began emerging all over your body as he came back face to face with you.

His grip on your left arm disappeared as he brought his had down to caress the side of your face as your free hand grabbed at his shirt, torn between wanting to pull him closer or push him off. Your skin felt on fire under his soft touch as he continued to slowly edge his face closer to yours.

'My beautiful beautiful girl, how could I ever get bored of you? You are too good to be true' Sirius whispered so quietly and sweetly that it almost didn't sound like it come from him.

Before you even had a chance to process the sweet whisper his lips were touching yours, so softly that you felt your heart melt and all the anger slowly dissolve. The kiss was slow and delicate, Sirius testing the waters and not wanting to push it too for if you were not interested but obviously you were.

Letting your hand wander from its grip on his shirt up to the back of his neck, you pulled him closer to deepen the kiss, instigating it to become more passionate. Sirius covered your body more closely, careful not to put too much weight on you, as his tongue began to dip into your mouth, whilst the hand he was still using to pin you down ended up tangled in your hair. With your hand now free you made work of unbuttoning his shirt not wanting to break the kiss but needing to feel his skin on your own.

Sirius pulled back to remove his shirt and the mere sight of him looking down at you with lush filled eyes only added further to your rapidly increasing arousal. You attempted to clench your thighs together in order to relieve some of the tension but Sirius was quick to notice and push his leg up further to stop it. You pouted out your bottom lip as you leant up on your elbows, hoping the pout and doe eyes would convince him to do something.

As Sirius looked down at you he could have punched himself for nearly messing this up. You were a dream and he never wanted to wake up from it. Leaning back down he chuckled as you went in for the a but he quickly dogged and began to place soft kisses down your neck. Your eyes fluttered shut in pure bliss and the small sign of affection as your hand returned to its earlier position on the back of his neck, softly tugging at the hairs.

With each kiss down your body Sirius slowly made work of undoing each of the delicate little buttons, pushing his shirt open to reveal your bare breasts and abdomen. His mouth continued its exploration of your bare body, the soft kisses and light caresses of his hands driving you insane.  It’s not that the sex was rough every time you had it but something about this time felt so delicate, like he was really taking his time to appreciate every inch of you. Instead of continuing his journey down to where you needed him most, much to your frustration, Sirius began retracing the kisses and nips back up your stomach, taking his time to massage your breasts, teasingly rolling your nipples between his rough finger pads.

 A small whimper escaped you as Sirius wetly kissed at the crook of your neck. Unable to control your urge anymore, you let your hands slowly slip down Sirius’ bare chest, lightly tracing your fingers across his soft skin until you reached his belted trousers. Sirius leant in to kiss you once more before realising exactly what your hands were doing. You were making quick work of getting his belt unbuckled and about to slip your hand into his already strained boxers when you felt his large hand grip around your throat. It wasn’t enough to disturb your breathing of course, but the perfect level of pressure to emphasise he was in charge. Breaking away from the kiss Sirius’ eyes burned into your own, the dark orbs clouded with admiration and lust.

‘As much as I would love for you to pleasure me my darling, I’m the one who’s got the making up to do’ he whispered seductively, never once breaking eyes contact which made your head tingle. As you tried to get a word of protest out his slender finger pressed against your lips, shushing you as he made his way back down your body, stopping randomly to leave another love bite and mark you as his.

When Sirius finally made his way down and became face to face with your clothed core he felt like he could cum right there and right then on the spot. You wore a bright yellow thong, your house colour of course, which looked vibrant in contrast to your glowing skin and white thigh high socks. The part Sirius loved the most though was the wet patch that had seeped its way through and was there on display for him and him only.

You propped yourself up on your elbows again, wanting to get a better look at the boy who was teasing you. All of a sudden you felt very exposed to him and wished he would carry on with it rather than just looking. As if he could read your mind, Sirius pressed the pad of his thumb against your clit, creating slow yet firm circles on the pulsing nerve. A wave of pleasure rushed over your body as this was the start of the contact you had mentally been begging for for days. 

Sirius watched, mouth ajar, as you let your head fall back with your eyes gently fluttering shut in pleasure. He had only done the simplest thing and you were already wild for him. Not wanting to deny you of that pleasure a second longer, Sirius dragged the soaking panties down your things, humming his approval as you moved your legs to ease the process. 

‘So so wet baby, I’ve barely even started yet’ Sirius teased but you were way to turned at this point to even pretend you weren’t desperate for him to do something. ‘Please siri’ you pleaded, hoping the pout and doe eyes would again work in your favour like that had so many times before. Of course, it did. Sirius wasted no more time and dragged his tongue flat from your soaking entrance all the way up to your clit which he mercilessly began sucking on. The whimper that left your lips at this long awaited pleasure was the perfect mixture of erotic and pathetic. Sirius couldn’t help but groan against your cunt at the sweet taste of your wetness, so addicting he feared he may never come up for air again. His one hand slipped up around your thigh, pushing it to open wider as he used his other hand to slip his middle and ring finger into your pulsing core. A loud moan left your throat as Sirius began to ferociously fuck you with his finger, your spare hand coming down to grab the hand that rested on his thigh. The deadly grip on his hand reverted his gaze to focus on you. The picture of you lead back with your back arched off the bed as you moaned his name so erotically would be something that he trapped in his memory for the remainder of his days.

Sirius knew you were coming close to your high by the way your pussy clenched around his fingers. ‘Come on my girl, cum for me’ he mumbled against your clit as his fingers pushed into you at a deadly pace causing you to call out his name followed by a string of profanities as you came hard on his fingers and against his mouth.  In true Padfoot style, Sirius lapped up the wetness that left you, feeling proud that he’d been able to make you cum so easily but knew it was more down to your sexual frustration than anything he could have done. Raising his fingers up to your lips he watched in delight as you sucked your own wetness off them before he swooped in for another kiss. You were quick to use your tongue to explore his mouth, feeling drunk at the taste of yourself on him.

‘Tell me what you want’ he commanded breaking the kiss but you continued to leave kisses down his neck as you made work of getting his tights pants off. Trailing kisses back up to his year you seductively whispered ‘I want you to fuck me’ before taking his ear lobe lightly between your teeth as you freed his rock hard dick from his boxers. Sirius groaned as he felt your hand wrap around his aching cock, tantalisingly beginning to wank him off, not that he needed any help getting ready to fuck you. Propping his one arm above your head, he used his other to prop your leg up onto his waste, feeling to impatient to bother even getting into another position, before taking over the grip on his cock. Your heart fluttered with excitement as you felt the tip brush up and down against your slit, gathering the left over slick to use as a lubricant.

The sounds the pair of you made as Sirius slowly pushed deep inside of you were nothing short of pornographic. Your other leg shot up to wrap around Sirius waste, pulling his hips so close that he had now completely bottomed out inside of you as his now free hand moved to grip tightly on the flesh of your ass. Sirius began fucking you instantly not giving you a second to readjust to his size as he leant down to kiss you sloppily. Your hands found refuge on his back, nails digging into his skin and he thrusted into you relentlessly. Your head was fuzzy with pleasure, the sound of Sirius’ soft groans and the skin slapping only turning you on even more. With your cunt still sensitive from your first orgasm you knew it wouldn’t be long before you’d be orgasming again and by the contorted look of pleasure on Sirius face you knew he wouldn’t be lasting much longer. His hand moved from your ass to your front, harshly rubbing against your clit as his other hand moved to yank your hair, pulling your head back to face him fully. 

‘You are mine and I am yours’, despite the roughness he was fucking you with, you knew that the words we’re sincere and that he felt most confident to say them in this situation. Though it was hard to respond between the deep hard thrusts you managed to moan out ‘I’m all yours Sirius’ just as your second orgasm began to hit. Sirius loosened the grip on your hair and you threw your head back into the bed, eyes clamped shut and moaning loudly in pleasure. The sight pushed Sirius to the absolute edge and his head collapsed into your sweat covered chest as he unloaded his cum inside of you, your tight walls milking out all of him.

The pair of you remained in that position for an unknown period of time. Sirius pressed against your bare chest listening to the frantic beating of your heart as you traced soothing patters onto this now scram covered back. It was you who finally broke the comfortable silence,

‘I meant what I said mind, I am all yours Sirius’

‘As did I, I’m all and only yours my darling’.

#sirius x y/n #sirius x you #sirius x reader #sirius black #sirius black fanfiction #marauders era #marauders fanfiction #marauders smut #sirius black smut #ben barnes #ben barnes smut #Harry Potter #hogwarts

[novaiya]

Arthur Morgan x Reader NSFW Alphabet

AO3 Link.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Arthur’s very lovey-dovey after sex. He’ll shower you in kisses and hold your body so close to his that you’ll feel his heartbeat. Affection is something he craves, and that hunger will only grow tenfold as the post-coital bliss washes over him. Falling asleep with you by his side, your naked body pressed against his, your head on his chest feels like home to him, where he can be free and safe.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He loves his arms and hands. Not only are they a powerful tool that he uses on the daily to kill, rob, and steal, they also come in handy (hehe) in the bedroom. He’ll run his hands all over your body, pinching, touching, twisting. The feeling of your skin under his fingers is intoxicating, and so is the knowledge that it’s his touch that can make you moan and writhe in pleasure.

When it comes to you, it’s hard for him to pick just one favorite aspect. He loves every part of you, from your legs, to your hips and your waist, to your breasts and of course your face. If he absolutely has to choose, then he’ll pick your waist. He feels content when he has his hand on your waist, bringing you close to him and feeling your body next to his, be it when the two of you are out, or simply sitting by the campfire in camp.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Loves coming inside of you, be it in your mouth or your pussy. There’s just something so intimate and romantic in the feeling of being enveloped by your warm walls as he reaches his own release.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He likes to be dominated from time to time. It’s easy to understand; Arthur always has to take the lead, be the protector and the leader of the gang, making sure the people are safe and fed. It’s a lot of responsibility, and it weighs heavy on his shoulders. Sometimes he just wants to let go and have somebody else be in control. This want seeps into your intimate life, and at first, he’s embarrassed to voice it. He’s so used to being the strong, masculine outlaw that he’s not sure how to be anything else but that. You sense that something is wrong, so after a lot of prying and kissing he relents and tells you what he’s been thinking. He’s expecting you to laugh at him and dismiss his thoughts as silly, but you don’t. You ask if that’s what he really wants, and he nods. The night takes a completely different turn, with you having your way with Arthur, taking control of his pleasures. You’ll have him on the edge, teasing him relentlessly only to not give him what he needs.

“You think you deserve to cum?” you’ll say, nipping at his ear. “Think you’ve been good?”

He’ll moan your name, bucking his hips towards you and say, “Please.”

“That’s Madame for you,” you’ll correct him.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

You wanna thank the woman (or women) who taught Arthur what he knows. From sucking on your clit, to hitting your G spot and nipping on your neck, the man knows every secret in the book that will have your toes curling and your eyes roll to the back of your head. Another great thing about him is that not only is he experienced, but he’s open to learning and trying something new. He’s not the type of man to get upset if you correct him on his technique. If you don’t like something and tell him to do it differently, he’s more than happy to correct himself. Your pleasure is more important than his ego.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

With you on your stomach and him on top, fucking you into the mattress. He loves the classic such as missionary and cowgirl during which he can see your face, but there’s something so intimate in being pressed so close against you, his chest touching your back.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Arthur is somewhere in the middle, leaning more towards serious. He can laugh during the process, but more often than not he’s concentrated, lost in pleasure and lust.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Arthur is hairy all over; from his head to his chest to his legs, and, well, there too. If it bothers you, he has no problem trimming down there, but he himself doesn’t care.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

During your love making (and it is love making, not fucking (thought that happens too sometimes)), he’s very romantic, making sure to tell you, “You’re so beautiful” and “I love you so much, darlin’.” He’ll shower your body in kisses, worshiping you like the goddess you are, kissing every inch of skin and murmuring praises and love confessions. The time you spend in each other's arms, bringing each other pleasure is not only about satisfying your carnal desires, it’s about being close, becoming one and showing just how much you love each other. It’s a process that neither of you want to rush, sometimes spending hours in each other’s arms, proving your love all. night. long.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

The two of you spend almost every waking hour together, but sometimes there are jobs that Arthur has to do alone (like bounty hunting or collecting debts). Some of those jobs are quick, and if he leaves in the morning he’s back in camp right before supper to spend the night with you. Others, however, can stretch for days, even longer if his destination is way out in the country. When he’s away from you for that long, taking himself in his hand is all he can do. He’ll wrap his fingers around his cock, starting with slow up and down movements, imagining it’s your hand and not his. He’ll bring to memory the image of your naked body under his, the sound of your voice moaning his name and the feeling of your walls spasming around him. If he’s alone, he’ll moan your name under his breath, his cock twitching in his hand as he’s nearing his release. With a cry of your name he’ll come, spilling himself on the ground, his hand working his cock to push every drop out.

It’s not the same as having you with him, that’s for sure, but it’ll have to do before he can have the real you in-front of him.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Light bondage. He enjoys tying you up, like your hands behind your back or your hands to the bedpost. If the two of you are in a particular mood, he might even tie up your legs. After telling you his “dirty secret”, he enjoys being the one tied up as well. Both of you know he can get out of the ties easily, break the rope with just a flex of his muscles, but it’s the knowledge that he’s tied down and at your mercy that turns him on.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Somewhere that has a full sized bed (preferably a king sized one). As much as he enjoys the cozy atmosphere of his tent and the familiarity of his cot, it can be a bit annoying with two full sized adults trying to go at it on a bed that was made only for one person.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

He loves hearing you moan his name, the sound of it coming broken and shaky from your lips. Feeling your legs shake, your body writhe and your hands holding on to him for support is his biggest motivation to work harder to bring you to your release, wanting nothing more than to see you fall apart to his touch.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Degradation and physical abuse. A spank on your ass here and there is okay, and so is dirty talk, but nothing that crosses a line into actual degradation and physical abuse.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Homeboy loves getting his dick sucked. Having you on your knees with his cock in your mouth is one of the images that warms up his soul when he’s alone and away from you.

As far as giving, he enjoys it, and can spend hours between your thighs, lapping at your like you’re his last meal. He enjoys how you are when you’re nearing your release, your thighs shaking on his shoulders, your fingers holding on to his hair and holding him where you need him. Once your orgasm washes over you and you’re laying on the bed, panting, your eyes closed, he’ll emerge from between your legs, licking his lips, a satisfied smirk on them.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Arthur prefers slow, sensual lovemaking to rough and fast fucking any day of the week. He enjoys dragging his cock in and out of your pussy, the slow strokes driving you insane. His pace would be slow, but it would be deep and intense, making you see stars each time he hits a spot inside of you.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

With how often Arthur has to go on jobs, quickies are a necessity in your relationship. Sometimes, he’ll only be in camp for an hour or two before heading back out, so as much as he’d love to pull down the flaps of his tent and ravish your body for hours on end, a quickie is all he can afford.

He’ll have you pinned to a tree on the outskirts of camp, his pants pulled down enough to pull out his dick, your skirt hiked up and your drawers pushed to the side. You’ll bite down on your fingers, trying to keep your moans at minimum as he pushes in you, his girth stretching you as it always does. It’ll be quick, dirty and sinfully delicious, and it will leave you craving more, waiting for Arthur to come back as soon as possible.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Arthur’s always game to try something new as long as it’s safe and both of you are on the same page.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Arthur can go all night long. The man has an implacable self control, and he can make you come countless times before cumming himself.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Arthur is a type of man that wants to do everything himself, be it cooking his own meals instead or ordering UberEats, or making you cum with his fingers instead of a vibrator. Personally, he doesn’t see a necessity for toys, but if it’s something you wanna try, he’s more than happy to use them.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

When he’s in a mood, Arthur can tease you ceaselessly. He’ll have you on the edge of orgasm for hours, making you think that he’s about to give you what you want, only to pull away at the last possible moment. You’ll be a shaking, moaning mess by the end of it, teetering on the edge of insanity and begging him to finally let you cum. He’ll smile that devilish smile, perhaps even cock his head to the side and take a moment to think before saying, “Nah,” and go back to teasing you for hours more.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

When the two of you are in camp, Arthur has no problem at keeping his volume to a minimum. He’ll grunt here and there, maybe let out a moan a few times, but nothing over the top, because he doesn’t want to bother other gang members. When the two of you are alone however, it’s a completely different story. The man moans. He lets out grunts, sighs and moans, but most of all, he lets out praises and comments.

“Shit, darlin’, you’re so tight,” he would grunt as he slips in your heat, “Gonna make me bust already.”

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he’d say as he circles your clit with his fingers, bringing you to your release for the unpteenth time that day, “I know you got it in you.”

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

The idea of you getting pregnant turns him on, a lot. The two of you are not actively trying to get pregnant, but the knowledge that he could do that to you, could put a baby in you and have you swollen and with a big belly because of him turns him on. When the two of you do decide to try for a child, he’ll be the one tracking your cycle and seeing which days you’re ovulating. On those days, you’ll barely leave the bed, only taking time to eat and relieve yourself before going back to making love in hopes of expanding your family.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Arthur’s hung. That’s all.

Jk, that’s not all. He’s long and thick, something that made a shiver run down your spine the first time you saw him naked. Even after being together for however long you were, his girth still manages to stretch you to your limits and need a moment to get used to. Arthur would never say it, but hearing you say, “You’re so big” gives him a high for hours and feeds his ego like nothing else.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Before getting in a relationship with you, Arthur’s sex drive was mediocre. He might’ve sought the company of working girls a couple of times a month, but that was more like scratching an itch and not doing it out of pure lust. After getting in a relationship with you however, well, that’s a different story. Just the sight of you walking through camp can set his mind on fire. He has a hard time keeping his hands off of you, and can be a big distraction when you have to work. If you’re game, he’ll have you multiple times throughout the day; in the morning, after lunch during your guard duty, at night in the tent. The man wants you all the time and he’s not shy to tell you so.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Arthur is the type of man to fall asleep with his face in your tits. As soon as he makes sure that both of you are clean and comfortable, he’s out. He’ll be scooping you up in his arms and snoring in no time (and so will you, because Arthur’s snores and his warm chest is better than any Melatonin)

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x y/n #arthur morgan smut #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #red dead redemption #red dead #rdr2 smut #rdr2 headcanons #rdr2 fanfics #rdr2 fanfiction #arthur morgan headcanons #arthur morgan imagine #red dead redemption 2 fan art #red dead redemption imagines #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 imagine #rdr2 headcanon #rdr2 reader insert #red dead redemption headcanons

[yeoldontknow]

the light keeper’s daughter | jhs (m)

A/N: written as fulfillment for the july house games at @bangtansorciere  ❂ To The Lighthouse      ⁂ Hosted by: Professor Bee @inkedtae through @bangtansorciere​ AU Type: Trident’s Tides (soulmates) Themes: God/Goddess (goddess reader); Secret Relationship Kinks: clit biting; pain kink; size kink; masturbation; degradation; overstimulation; dirty talk; cum play; panty sniffing

↝ Creative Content Contributor: @jamaisjoons​ for this incredible banner. its literally so stunning ;~; ↝ Pairing: Lighthouse Keeper!Hoseok x Goddess of Light!Reader (oc; female) ↝ Genre: soulmate au; secret relationship au; gods/goddess au; mentions of an arranged marriage; heavy angst; smut; romance; pining ↝ Rating: NC-17 | 18+ ↝ Summary: For years, you’ve kept your relationship with Hoseok a secret. As the daughter of the God of Light, you are destined to marry anyone who slays the beast in the Gloaming Isles in your honor. When that day finally comes, you go to Hoseok to tell him your relationship must end and you are set to be married. One last time, Hoseok reminds you no one will love you as eternally, as enduringly, as he. ↝ Warnings: explicit sex; explicit language; pregnancy; unprotected sex; creampie; masturbation; clit biting; oral sex (f receiving); pain kink; size kink; overstimulation; light degradation; a brief handjob; impreg kink; dirty talk; cum play; panty sniffing; crying; biting; marking; scratching; brief mentions of blood ↝ Word Count: 14.7K        ↝ special thank you to @softyoongiionly​ and @kithtaehyung​ for reading through this and being amazing betas! if there are any mistakes left over they are absolutely my own and the fact that 98% of this was written while sprinting owo

Looking at Hoseok, you think, is exactly like being struck by lightning. Which is to say, every time, all the time, looking at Hoseok means you feel him everywhere, all over and all at once. 

Inside the lighthouse, there is no escaping him. 

Pressing your back against the rough concrete of the small light room, you tilt your head to the side as the totality of Hoseok’s warmth, ardor, and fidelity blossoms over you. He flowers deep in the nodes of your lungs, your breath constricted as you take him in, studying the curve of his lips, the slope of his nose, the way he wears the night as though he is the stars.

In the distance, waves rush to the shore, kissing the land with the same enthusiasm you wish to be kissing him, only to pull away from land; the water shy, anxious of the earth’s response to its affections. Over and over, the sea rolls like thunder. Every now and then, the light that spins overhead refracts downward, illuminating the blood that has rushed to his cheeks. Flushed, his lips part as he processes the words you have just told him, all red and red and red with understanding.

As though he is burning, as though you are not burning for him, your hands clinging tightly to your skirts as you hold your knees against your chest. It should be utterly unfair, you think, for him to appear so beautiful, so exquisite, even as he remains painfully stricken by your words. The searing ache in your chest germinates alongside your love, mind racing with the apologies he deserves. Your bones tremble with the force of remaining still, prepared to reach out and hold his face and tell him it was a lie. You want to smile for him, want to tease him, want to say you’d been terribly silly and that such jokes are best kept for nights when the sky is not clouded, not cold, and instead warmed by your shared rapture. 

How you would like to give him all the kindest, all the softest, words in the world.

‘It can’t be true.’

He’s said this twice, the disbelief in his voice only just winning out against the grief. Hoseok repeats it again, taking a step towards you, eyes cast down to where you have slunk in shame and sadness. Hands limp at his sides, his fingers quake, torn between balling his hands into fists or running through his hair, their resting place for his worry. Deciding on neither, he simply stands tall and stoic, appearing so small in the light that cascades around the room.

You’d glow for him if you could, if you felt like you deserved to illuminate any part of him at all.

Looking away from his woefully dejected expression, you turn your attention to the small gap in the wall beside you. A window once blocked the wind - stained glass, exquisite. It shattered during a storm, on a night when he pressed himself so deep inside you traces of his essence lingered on your tongue. He was deep enough it hurt, rolling into you with enthusiastic vigor. Tonight, the breeze smells of low tide, acrid in the back of your nose and sour, just like your mood.

‘We knew this would happen,’ is your quiet reply. 

A weak and pathetic excuse, you hate the words even as you say them. Shameful, you think with a grimace, to have pretended that you could have a happy ending, that convincing your father would have been simple. The lies you told yourself and Hoseok, the platitudes that fell from your lips to comfort him, turn on your now, betrayals stacked against you that weigh heavily your judgement. You’ve been childish, so childish, to assume you could have ever been happy.

Hoseok shakes his head, refusing to accept your answer. All fury and rage, he comes to stand before you and lowers to his knees, demanding you look at him. His presence is a live wire, the heat and energy from his skin is vital, a pull against yours that makes you regard him once more, confronted by his enduring beauty. Flooding your vision, he is all you see, all you can fathom, your world beginning and ending with his pleading eyes. 

‘But it’s been years,’ he argues, the high pitched tone of his voice wavering and taught with emotion. He’s older than you, physically, but at this moment he has never been so young, so small, so gloriously human. ‘Centuries even. It’s unfair to you.’

A huff of breath rushes through your nose, your scoff ripe with bitterness. ‘Someone finally slayed the Sydral, as archaic as this ritual actually is. My father said I should have always expected it.’

‘And so now…’ Hoseok’s voice drifts, falling back onto his knees crestfallen. The corner of his lips drop into the beginnings of a deep frown, all manner and will to fight rapidly dissipating.

‘I have to marry them,’ you nod, answering his unspoken question.

For a long while, you hold his gaze, allowing yourself to get lost in the umber of his irises and missing the mirth that usually ignites their sparkle. It is just his breath that cascades over your skin, just the waves that rush beyond the light room, just the world that seems to turn onward, without you, time passing without either of you truly acknowledging it. In this silence, you see your history, your every moment spent with him: the day you met; the day he could not help himself any longer and kissed you soundly, without restraint; the first moment you told him you loved him; the first moment he said he needed you; the plastic ring he won at the pier arcade - extraordinary in all its ugliness - and the gentle, reverent, way he slid it over your finger, calling it a promise of fidelity. 

In Hoseok, you see it all. 

Similarly, he drowns in you, the pink of his cheeks deepening to rose with each passing breath. Posture falling slack, the strap of his ride suspender slips from his shoulder, the collar of his linen shirt loosening with the lack of restraint. A sliver of his collarbone becomes exposed, golden and rich, a tantalizing patch of skin you would caress and kiss if only the circumstances had been different. You wonder idly what he remembers of you, what he sees in your own dispirited expression. You wonder if he remembers the way he loved you, the way he loved you beyond your light and into your darkness. 

You wonder if he remembers the way he ate your shadows - with his whole mouth, with fervor, with pride. You wonder if he remembers the way you devoured him just the same. 

‘This is ridiculous,’ he announces, finally. Turning to look out the window, he regards the sky solemnly, the curve of his profile imposing in its majesty. Eyes narrowed, it is the harshest he has ever looked, devoid of forgiveness. ‘It’s supposed to be me.’

Swiftly, you shake your head, adamant in your disagreement. You reach for him, leaning forward to rest your hand against his chest, against his heart where it thunders in his sternum. Warmth from his skin radiates into your blood, taking root between your joints. Hoseok worms his way into pieces of your spirit long left abandoned, and you swallow thickly, wondering if such affection as this is normal, if it’s always this way.

‘I’d never have let you.’ Your dispute is biting, sharp enough Hoseok turns his eyes back to you, jaw clenched and tight with silent fury. ‘You’re human. It would have killed you. And then where would I be?’

‘You’d be sitting where I am,’ he argues, emphatic. 

Reaching for your hand where it rests, he covers it with his own, lifting it slightly to twine his fingers with yours. Unable to help himself, he inches closer, running his thumb over your knuckles and sending shivers along your nerves. Like always, his touch is a wildfire, the electric kinetic energy needed to set you aglow. Your mind swims with him the same way your body becomes whelmed by his devotion, but he does not let himself become distracted. 

‘Do you even understand?’ Voice little more than a whisper, Hoseok’s gaze is penetrating, a bite to his veneration that demands your complete attention. Tilting his head to the side, he continues. ‘You think I wouldn’t die for you?’

You squeeze his hand with tenacity, acknowledging his sentiment, but he does not see all the things you have witnessed. He does not know the true menace of the Sydral, does not know its tricks, its many heads, its speed, its cunning; Hoseok would die for you, and death would find him quickly. 

Instead, you offer him a small smile, one that is so fragile and close to breaking. Hoseok’s intensity burns within your chest, transforming his softness into the valor of a man that leaves you breathless. Salvaging your own strength, you lower your gaze to the white collar of his shirt, to the soft linen and the expanse of his throat where he swallows. This you can regard with pleasure, can regard without fearing you may shatter.

And so you smile, finding the will to fight him once more. ‘The problem,’ you begin, hoping the earnestness of your smile is enough to cool the rage that boils in his throat, ‘is that I know you would. And I would live my life alone, married to him while knowing you are gone. Would you really condemn me to such misery? My darling, I would die to keep you safe.’

This feels like anguish; this feels like dying, you think to yourself, growing ever more despondent the longer you feel Hoseok pleading with the emptiness that lurks behind your eyes. You can’t bear to face him, not when the tightness in your throat becomes a threat, tears lingering on the precipice of spilling. Every time his gaze meets yours it is brutal in its honesty, violent in the way your love and lust tumbles so completely into grief.

‘How long?’ he manages, breathing life to the very question you’d been hoping to avoid. 

Your future is still so far away, distant enough it makes this moment, and every moment to follow, heavy with the pain of imagination. Still, you’ve never been able to deny him anything. 

Once more, you turn to view the window, regarding it with a vacant expression as though you are regarding time itself. ‘You know this is the last time I can see you.’

‘I know,’ he bites out, unwilling to let you dodge the answer. ‘I mean how long until...you’re not mine anymore.’

‘That’s...not possible,’ you offer gently, casting him a solemn, detached grin. ‘I am always going to be yours. Even when I’m in his bed, even when I’m thousands of miles away, even in death, I am yours.’

Hoseok pulls you against him, compelling your complete attention. Eyes wide, you study his face - the resolution of his passion fierce enough to be an earthquake against your sternum, a collision of meeting worlds. His arm winds itself around your waist while he still clutches your hand, the strength of his grip stinging against your knuckles. You tremble against his powerful frame, inhaling the deep scent of cedar and ambergris that always clings to him, the salt of the ocean that lingers on his skin, the dust that has saturated his shirt from the lighthouse, and you; your vanilla and lemon, the brightness of your own natural scent that emanates from your light and always seems to find him, not unlike rays of the sun. 

Your mouth waters at this closeness, his own eyes darkened to a rich black as he studies you seriously. You’ve wounded him - worse, you’ve denied him - and he presses the tips of his fingers into the soft muscles of your back, ensuring you cannot leave him. Not until he is ready to let you go.  

‘You know what I mean,’ he breathes, words lowered to a hiss. If he were a vengeful sort of man, he would be full of venom. Instead, there is only remorse in his insistence.

Closing your eyes, you sigh. ‘Months, most likely. Tomorrow the rituals begin - the seven days feast, the Fate Tying, the Blood Gathering.’ 

When you look at him again, your lower lip begins to quake. Saying the words makes it all feel immediate, tangible, as though your father stands in the dark corners of the light room casting his judgements. You almost feel him there, his presence always so sinister for a man blessed to command the light; he resides in the silent places, giving birth to shadows, prepared to pull you from bliss at a moment's notice. 

‘All this pomp and circumstance from eras bygone,’ you continue, grounding yourself in the firmness of Hoseok’s arms and chest. The bones of his knees press into your thighs; your hand caught between your twin heartbeats; you immerse yourself in the pain of this connection and remind yourself it hurts because he was always meant to be yours. ‘It’s been centuries since a goddess has been married off, and yet somehow I’m the first for such a sentence. The wedding won’t be for at least five months.’

‘Then we have time.’ Hope saturates his words, his hold on you growing ever more unyielding. ‘You can still come to me, we can still see each other,’ he explains quickly, speaking in a rush. ‘No one will have to know.’

Biting your lips, you raise your hand to the soft strands of his hair, carding your fingers through it. All silk and satin, you relish the texture as his desperation soaks into your pores. 

‘I wish that could be true.’ Even as you speak, you focus on his hair, committing these small details to memory. The curve of his bang in the center of his forehead, the deep amber and dark sienna and all the golden highlights that come to life in the daylight, the way all of him, every piece, is soft enough to break you. Yes, you focus on it all. ‘All the Old Gods will be gathering in Teylim. There will be more eyes on me than ever before. Ladies coming to fuss over my hair, my clothes, the oils I wear; men worshiping Daeus like he’s some kind of king when, really, he’s just lucky enough to be half of a god. I won’t be able to get away.’

Hoseok’s eyes roam your face, wild and storming, waiting for you to amend your answer. When you do not speak, his brow furrows and he exhales, a small whimper released from the center of his breaking heart. ‘So this is it, then? This is really it?’

‘I’m so sorry,’ you whisper, moving your hand from his hair to cup his cheek. 

He presses himself into your touch, turning just slightly to kiss delicately at your palm. The sweetness of his tenderness splinters the last of your courage, the tears you’ve so valiantly held back starting to burn as they spill over to your cheeks. 

‘I wish it could be different,’ you plead - with everyone and no one at all. ‘I wish for it everyday. Hoseok, I can’t -’ Distraught, you choke on your own words, and Hoseok pulls you firmly against him, resting your head against his shoulder. ‘I can’t breathe without you. I don’t know how I’m supposed to do this.’

Hoseok says nothing at all as you dampen his shirt, tears spilling into the linen as you struggle not to collapse against him completely. When you are finally alone, you will succumb to the sorrow that has learned to occupy every chamber of your heart. When you are finally alone, you will eat the spirit of rage with teeth and fangs, and you will let the darkness have you, refusing to let the light erupt from your skin. But for now, you let the tears arrive of their own accord, aware that you are suddenly too sad to even weep, tears dripping into his shirt as means to remain a part of him.

Against you, Hoseok’s breath becomes uneven, his own shoulders shuddering as he minds his own heroism, fighting back his own tears. He quivers against you, his stuttering breath exhaled through his nose as he maintains his composure. The light room becomes almost too quiet, the blood rushing your ears drowning out the sound of the sea, narrowing your focus to just the shared heat between your bodies. You inch closer, removing any space that could exist between you, extinguishing any oxygen that would dare to separate you from him. What you would give for a thunderstorm, any sound at all to give life to the end of love, to the start of the war of loving. 

Unable to stomach the quiet any longer, your mind seems to become unhinged. All the tiny, miserable little thoughts Hoseok’s love kept locked away worm their way past your lips, erupting to life as though your heartbreak has given them permission to persecute you. 

‘I wish you never found me,’ you mumble, almost incoherent. Your tongue fumbles with the words, caught between weeping and speaking, making a mess of so much more than just his shirt. ‘I wish you never saw me. I could love you like that, on my own, from a distance. I could be strong enough to move through life not knowing you, loving only the idea of you. You’re so much more than anything my mind could have fabricated out of childish desire. The reality of you is heaven. And now, I’m hurting you. I should die for such a transgression.’

‘Don’t say that.’ Hoseok pulls, easing you back and lifting both his hands to cup your face. Briefly you mourn the loss of his fingers and knuckles so rough against yours, but cradled between his palms, your skin tingles, making a festival out of this contact and celebrating the nuance of his fingerprints. He looks down into you, deep enough you feel him taking root in the center of your belly. You love him most when he looks like this - fierce and unforgiving - and you cannot help the way your body responds, aroused simply by the passion of him. ‘Don’t you dare wish that,’ he commands, voice thick. ‘The day we met was the day my life started.’

‘But...’ you struggle to find the words, drifting off with the implication that, now, his life is surely ending.

‘I don’t want to know who I would be without you.’ Hoseok takes his time as he speaks, an art you cannot comprehend. 

Behind his eyes, his mind races, words living and dying before they can reach his tongue. He has so much to say, so many more promises to make, so many more words of affirmation he’d like to give you. You see them all, recognize them all - for they mirror yours, are born from your own likeness; you know them all so well, you feel as though you could reach out and touch them. 

‘I can’t fathom it, I won’t even consider it.’ Shaking his head, he denies this completely, holding onto your stare with a fixation that borders on zealous. ‘You came to me, and it felt like I could breathe. You came to me, and I felt like myself. Loving you makes me better, loving you is partly why I am alive.’

It’s difficult to swallow around the lump in your throat, its size and prowess growing ever larger in the wake of his words. In the oncoming quiet, you wish he hadn’t said it, wish he hadn’t reminded you of the way you the oncoming storm of his presence before you met him. One look at him and you had seen it all, a life designed by the Fates - marriage, children, hope, happiness. In death he’d have joined you in Teylim, youthful, young, yours. With eternity before you, you’d bask in the rapture and the joyful silliness that comes with forever. 

He felt it, too, saw it in your eyes. On your fourth meeting, he held you against him and promised you his life.

‘I will put my child in your belly,’ he announced, deliberate in the way he enunciated his words. You waited for the shock of such an exclamation to overtake you, but it never came. ‘I can’t explain it,’ he chuckled, amused by his own enthusiasm, ‘but I’m certain of it. I see my unborn children in your eyes. I think this is what the elders mean when they say there is always a plan, and you will always know it the moment you find it. I’m so certain my whole life is tied to yours.’

The memory burns within your mind, a scorch of greed mixing immediately with longing. You wish the fire of it would incinerate it to ash, that it would vanish altogether before the Fate Tying. You can handle all of these frivolous little rituals, sure of yourself and your own strength, but the Fate Tying means to unmake you. At just the thought, your stomach begins to sink. 

You will sit, hands clasped on your amber throne with the sunlight seeking your hair, your cheeks, your lips; Daeus will smile, wrapped in oak and evergreen, in the earth that flourishes beneath your light; and you will weep, watching as the Moirai unstitch your soul from Hoseok’s, peeling it apart inch by horrible inch, to thread it with the ugliness of Daeus’ strands. You will wonder, mouth dry and eyes wet, why the Moirai would bother making a man for you, would bother weaving your spirits together, only to unravel the work they had done, the love you had found. 

The movement of Hoseok’s gentle caress, pads of his thumbs running across the bones of your cheeks, returns you to the present moment. Once more he whimpers, doing his best to keep you grounded with him, unwilling to lose you before he absolutely must. Digging your nails into his shoulder as you grab fistfuls of his shirt, you wallow with him, knowing that, just like him, you don’t know who you would have become without him.

‘What do we do?’ you manage, reduced to a more pathetic version of yourself as you plead with him. Anyone else, and you’d be ashamed to appear so weak. ‘How do I do this?’

‘I don’t know,’ is all he can provide. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Promise me -’ You cut yourself off, not entirely certain where the idea comes from, what part of you would willingly propose such a request, the meaning of what you had intended to say catching up to your mind the moment you heard your own voice. Hoseok waits patiently, and you lower your gaze to the curvature of his lips, wanting to kiss and kiss and kiss him, knowing your next words will scar you both. ‘Promise me you’ll find someone else. Promise me you’ll be happy.’

Without any hesitation, he scoffs, dismissing the idea altogether. ‘Don’t ask me to tell a lie.’ 

‘I can’t, Hoseok.’ Now, it is your turn to hold his face, cupping his cheeks with veneration. Mind reeling, you envision it, certain you could take it. You are certain you would die for less. ‘I can’t do this if I spend my life knowing you’ll be unhappy. I can’t do this knowing you’re alone.’

Slowly, gently, Hoseok lets the tip of his nose press against yours, rubbing it back and forth, back and forth. Breath  a deluge down and over your lips and skin, he somehow finds it within himself to smile, empty of all amusement. 

‘It’s so unfair of you to expect that I could be happy with anyone but you,’ he chastises. ‘I’d rather be alone, utterly and completely, than to be lonely with someone. They deserve better than someone who is with them out of loyalty to another person - a promise kept to the person they truly love.’

His rejection and refusal of your plea inspires a thrill in the pit of your stomach, all manner of possessive pleasure coursing through your veins. How easily he turns you into a selfish woman, how quickly his promises of fidelity make you lose all sight of strength and future vision. What sort of man is Hoseok that he should have such dominion over you, you think to yourself. But then, you know. You know as you have always known: Hoseok is your man, your lover, your soul.

Stroking his cheeks with your thumbs, just as he had done, reverently, adoringly, you bite your lip and feel your exhale shake. ‘So what will you do?’

‘I’ll do as I’ve always done,’ he shrugs, as though the very thought is not a bruise within his ribs. ‘I’ll keep the lighthouse. Every night, I’ll let the beacon burn, and keep the light on. Even on clear days, I will let the light shine.’ Hoseok smiles as he says this, the first real smile he has managed since he saw you on the shore this evening, waiting, just like always. ‘When you’re up there, perhaps you will see the light.’ 

He shifts his gaze to the roof of the light house, looking up and beyond, past the clouds, up to the seat of the gods. Furrowing his brow, he hardens his jaw just slightly, eyes turning dark as he demands your father witness him. 

When he looks at you again, he is a changed man - a boy trapped in the throes of love, and a man on the verge of letting himself perish.

‘Maybe up there,’ he murmurs, ‘you will see my light and know that I’m burning for you, just as I’ve always been. I’ll continue to love you. I’ll be good, I’ll be pious, and maybe when I die we will meet in Teylim and even in death I’ll watch you, staying close to your light like a bird in flight.’

‘Hoseok.’ The quiver of your bottom lip disrupts the cadence of his name, besmirching it to little more than a sob.

Sucking air through his teeth, Hoseok leans forward, pressing his forehead against yours as his eyes fall shut. At such close proximity, you study the almost feminine length of his eyelashes, the pores of his skin, and wonder who or what god or demon you could barter with to stay inside him forever.

‘You’re supposed to be mine,’ he whimpers, the sadness welling up in him like a mountain. ‘You are mine, but…I will always be yours. Even when they untie us, I’ll be yours. They can’t thread me with anyone else. I don’t think my soul will allow it.’ 

Unable to sustain it any longer, your desire for him rises to a swell, erupting beside your sorrow - just as fervent, and even more unyielding. His words are a comfort, an echo you will revisit over and over when you have long departed, but your skin has learned how to ache for his touch, learned how to anticipate the way he moves over you like water, and you need it. You need him. 

The rest of your pitiful existence looms out before you, days and months and centuries passing without Hoseok to hold you and keep you, and you despise the very notion of it. You rebuke it, refusing to let yourself continue on without knowing how it feels to have him. Tonight, you do not want him as your lover.

Tonight, you want him as your husband.

‘Kiss me,’ you announce, guiding his forehead away from yours, skin prickling with the lack of his warmth. ‘Kiss me like it’s our wedding. I -’ The tightness of your voice steals your breath, words hot and heavy in your mouth as you say them. ‘I want to know what a marriage bed truly feels like. I want to know what our marriage bed would be like.’

Mad with an unbearable passion, no longer contained, Hoseok heeds your words and lets his tongue wander over the seam of your lips. You cling to him, clutching what you can of his shape, his body, and you sigh in woeful euphoria, granting him unspoken entry to the recesses of your mouth - but he does not enter. Your lover has always been disobedient, reckless in the evening when your skin and your lips and your heart are presented to him, and tonight he is no different. Tonight, he scorns the hour, taking his time as he traces over your cupid’s bow with his tongue, rendering the turn of the earth meaningless. The heat of his breath tickles your skin, a cascade in which you luxuriate, and your eyes, blurred by the urgency of your desire, lose all sense of your surroundings until there is only Hoseok. 

Hoseok - on you, around you, all over you, the rain and the wind all at once.

Only when he has had his fill of your lips does he press the whole of his mouth against yours, sucking languidly at your bottom lip. Skin growing tight, you keen into his kiss, consumed by greed. Slowly, he moves his hands down and down, letting his fingers trace indeterminate lines over your cheeks, your jaw, your bones until they rest at your neck. With his palm over your pulse, he holds you still, his touch a fever, his touch the sun, radiating deep into the caverns of your heart. 

Filled with him, you think. Absolutely alive with him, Hoseok lets his palm cradle the tether of your life until you are certain he is the oxygen made to sustain your mortal form. You, living and breathing, are little more than remnants of departed touches, composed entirely of his affections, his affirmations, his adoration.

So, too, do you kiss at him, battling against him for any semblance of permanence, demanding that you be remembered. Feeling you writhe against him, insistent in your need for closeness, he hums in pleasure, a musical sound that traverses your synapsis with unhurried ease. Gooseflesh raises on your arms, either by a passing breeze or the way Hoseok leans in, harder, rougher, all manner of dominance in the way he so desperately seeks to have you, and you shiver, delighted by the peak in your senses; delighted, fundamentally, that you will commit every moment of this last evening to bodily memory.

Willing to be devoured, you surrender to him, feeling arousal leak from between your folds as though his savagery has given it permission to spill over. It soaks into your underwear where you briefly mourn the fact that it will not coat your thighs, not yet, and that Hoseok must wait to see how easily you could paint yourself in your wanting. Like always, he anticipates you and ardent your longing; perceptive and always acutely aware of the way you have grown wanton. depraved by the strength of his kisses alone. 

Hoseok eases his hand to the back of your neck, determination apparent in his grip, and guides you forward to rest in his lap. Letting your legs settle on either side of his thighs, you straddle him, unwilling to break any contact he has with you, your skin, you, your hands on him. You come together like a cataclysm, the burgeoning tip of his erection firm and stubborn where it presses against your core, assertive and tantalizing even beneath the fabric of his trousers. 

It’s lewd the way you crave him deep inside you, jaw dropping as your mouth opens wide to gasp in delight. Hoseok wastes no time in letting his tongue glide against yours, explorative and eager, utterly deliberate in his stroking. Slowly, the tips of his fingers move from your neck to your hairline, ever deeper and ever more intrusive. A low chuckle rumbles in his throat as he runs his tongue over yours, grazing the roof of your mouth before he forms a fist in your hair and tilts your head back, swift and aggressive. 

All at once he pulls away, face hovering just centimeters above yours and gaze hooded as he explores your lustful expression. A flush creeps into your cheeks, the control he has over the flow of your blood is always surprising even if it is to be expected. Hoseok seems pleased, evident in the familiar way his eyes have become blackened by the force of his yearning and the smile that has worked its way into the corner of his lips, a secret for only you to discover. He takes a pause, disregarding his haste, to regard you: your parted lips, your heated cheeks - a fire that has spread itself over your chests and breasts.

‘You are a vision of sin,’ he murmurs, cocking his head to the side and tightening his grip in your hair. ‘What would all the gods say?’

Your own nails scratch tenderly into his scalp, gripping his hair to mirror his hold on you. Futile, you know. The strength in Hoseok is silent, a gift that makes him appear merely pretty until the seat of his power is fully revealed, a fortitude you could never mimic.

You swallow, preparing to speak, and watch the way Hoseok studies the movement of your throat. ‘They would call me a harlot.’ 

His gaze returns to yours, an otherwise thoughtful look turned menacing by the terror of his passion. ‘And are you?’

Tongue heavy in your mouth, you struggle with the few words you can manage. ‘They will make me out to be,’ you begin slowly, poignantly, ‘and it will be your fault. You’ve made me a slut.’

You hold onto the word - draping yourself over the “s”, tapping your tongue against the “t” - ensuring it lingers in your mouth long enough for him to taste it. It’s his fault, really, that you will be judged and scorned and shamed for coming to your new husband wholly impure, the construct of your virginity eradicated by Hoseok’s insatiable appetite. It’s his fault, you think, that you want him this much. That you love him this much. Your tongue caresses the word slut like it's your dearest companion, familiar with its shape and texture, and you lean upward, hoping to put it in his mouth. 

If he is half of your soul, then he should learn how it tastes to be utterly reprehensible. 

But he dodges the trajectory of your desires, moves away from your lips and your face entirely, diving down to your chest where he lets his teeth traverse the expanse of your sternum. Lifting his hand from your pulse, he trades one beat of your blood for another, fisting his hand in the collar of your dress to pull it down and expose the thin bit of flesh covering your heart. It thunders in your ears, your body a storm of his making, and you tremble as he positions himself to ravage your very spirit.

His teeth leave scars upon your nerves, eternal echoes within your pores that have you rolling your hips downward in encouragement. Again, you feel him, his cock against your core, enough to have you whimpering as though you are small and fragile, not the maker of your undoing. As punishment for your impertinence, Hoseok takes aim and bites down harshly at the slender bone of your clavicle. 

‘Hoseok!’ 

‘I know you, Sparrow.’ The husk of his breath is an avalanche into the marrow of your bones, the memory of his teeth still reverberating into your lungs. ‘You always like it when it hurts.’

Your skin still stings, yet he is relentless. You quake in his hold as he bites at the bone once again, teeth inlaid perfectly where they had been before. Your skin bends beneath the force, ecstatic hiss descending into a low moan, giving away the truth of how well he truly knows you. The pain grounds you in the moment, allows you, too, to ignore the passage of time, the ebb and flow of the waves as though the tides have halted altogether. You are prettiest when you are red and purple, black and blue by the marks he leaves in his wake, and not once, not even when he breaks your skin to bleeding does he tarnish your light.

In his arms, you are illuminated, glowing with the same intensity as the lighthouse beacon. He’s called you the heavenly sky for the way you glow under his affections, your inability to control your power when he makes you feel so impossibly good turning you into an evening star. You often forget you are blessed with a holy gift, the goddess of light as though your title has any meaning beyond providing you a seat at the table in Teylim. You often forget this is who you really are, someone happy, someone made of magic - a light kindled only under joy.

‘I will make you ache for me,’ he breathes, pushing the collar of your dress lower and lower, threatening to expose your nipple. ‘I want you alight, burning for me. Only me.’

Hoseok kisses deftly at the supple softness of your breast, diligent and greedy. His breath comes ragged, thick in the center of his lungs where he struggles around the insurmountable longing that puts force in his handling of your body. Working his tongue over the skin, he licks the stars out of the constellations of your pores, tasting the dust, the salt, the sea. Your hands run through his hair, messing the thick strands to a state of perilous disorder in your eagerness to move downward to the comforting solidarity of his shoulders.

Grinding your hips into his lap, the tip of his clothed erection slides along your slit, and you release a whimpered exclamation as the cloth of your underwear slips between your folds. Biting your lip, you breathe deep, Hoseok’s own groan of dissatisfaction vibrates into your chest. You feel him deep in your throat, his voice alongside yours, his desire matching yours in intensity. 

Hand leaving your neck in favor of your waist, his grip tightens, fingertips pressing deep circles into the muscles of your back. Thrusting upward, he teases you, laughing darkly to himself with a rough nip to your breast. The motion sends your underwear deeper into your cunt, a pressure to your clit as erotic as it is cruel. It sends a shiver down your spine, inspiring tremors in your nerves that have you clenching your walls around nothing at all, seeking the bulbous head of his cock in need. 

Pleased with himself, he raises himself from your chest to work at the buttons of your dress. Your nails dig into his shoulders, your own rolling back to present you breasts to him like a preening cat. Hungry, he takes the bait, slipping a palm under your dress to cup your breast. He presses against your nipple, a small wine tumbling from your throat to mingle with his whispered expletive. Rolling your nipple between his knuckle, he regards you momentarily, studying your dazed expression. Against him, you are an earthquake unto yourself, a cosmic shift of longing ravaging your blood, and you are pleased by it, offering him a smile of gluttony. 

Abruptly, he releases your breast, hands falling to your hips as he raises to his knees, keeping you against him. Hoseok pushes your hips roughly against his, cock a threatening force against your core as he guides your bodies down to the floor, careful to keep the shift in position painless. Once more, he thrusts at you, and you feel yourself becoming soaked, juices no longer dripping into your underwear but instead crawling slowly down to your ass. The concrete of the floor is chilled, cold enough your back and hips arch indelicately in retreat, causing you to carelessly meet his thrust. 

‘Fuck,’ he mutters, returning his hands to your front as he sits back on his knees. 

Hoseok avoids the buttons over your breasts, choosing instead to undo the buttons just beneath. Continuing onward, he takes his time unwrapping you, hungry for the pieces of your body he will mark as his. The heart of his lips parts on a silent exclamation, mouth falling open as he unveils more of your ample flesh. The light from your skin mixes with the lighthouse beacon, casting shadows of desire in his eyes, rendering him beastly. With his eyes only, he devours you; your body, the fruit of his immense craving. 

Leaving your breasts covered, Hoseok exposes your hips, your stomach, your thighs. Your hardened nipples strain against the fabric, begging for release the same way your core clenches once again around nothing at all, swallowing more of your underwear in an effort to lure him deep inside you. He meant it this way, all too aware your sensitive nipples will tease you to a point of aching the longer they rub against your dress.

The sea breeze cools your skin, so much of you exposed you feel as though you have been submerged in wind and sky. Chewing the inside of your cheek, you mourn momentarily that it is not Hoseok that covers you, not yet. Still, you enjoy being naked for him like this - naked, vulnerable, safe, and his. You open your legs further, letting the wind kiss at the wetness of your cunt, your answering grin borderline salacious. How glorious to give everything and hide nothing from him. How glorious to let yourself be worshipped, his eyes starved for the pleasure of your sex. All this joy, and yet your frustration runs over, an overflow occurring with little thought. 

‘It’s not fair,’ you whine, raising your arms to reach for him. ‘Let me undress you.’

Sitting up, you press your hands flat against his chest, becoming attuned with the ample hills and valleys of his muscles. Hoseok sits still and proud, lips reddened and wet from kissing you. Your light ignites the flush that dapples the tips of his ears, skin flushed by lust and longing. Throat running dry, you swallow thickly, committing his unrivaled beauty to memory. You refuse to forget a single moment of this, unwilling to relinquish a single detail of him. 

Slowly, you ease the suspenders from his shoulders, humming in approval at the way the loose linen of his shirt relaxes in its newfound freedom, offering you more of his neck and collarbones. As your fingers work earnestly at his buttons, Hoseok takes his time admiring you, a piercing look both penetrative and heartsick. His hand comes to cover yours, unable to help himself, and he holds it tightly, raising it to his lips. His eyes remain locked on yours as he kisses the pads of your fingers, one by one, before slipping your index and middle finger into his mouth. Your lips part on a sigh that fades just as quickly as it came, feeling his tongue swirl over the digits with purpose. 

And much the same way you did not expect his touch, so too are you caught off guard when he moves your fingers from his mouth and guides it down your stomach. Lower and lower, he guides your hand between your bodies where he slips it beneath your underwear. Your breath hitches, skin wet from his saliva and clit throbbing at the prospect of tangible contact, your own hand an ominous presence resting upon your mound.

‘Touch yourself,’ he commands.

Hoseok is so often the picture of tenderness in the way he makes love to you, always gentle and always mired in the totality of his affections. Occasionally, he is sharp and, occasionally, he is in control - only on days when he is starved, only on days when he is completely ravenous. Tonight, there is no room for argument. Tonight, he makes himself an unrelenting devil, unafraid to exert dominance.

‘Eventually we will remember little of how we undress,’ he explains, pressing your fingers over your mound, dangerously close to your clit. ‘Right now, I need to see the way you will touch yourself for me when I’m no longer around. I want to see it. I want to memorize it. Touch yourself for me.’

Removing his hand from yours, he nudges softly at your shoulder, and you obey immediately. Leaning back on your right elbow, you keep your hand in place as he grabs the band of your underwear and pulls it down. Lifting your hips, your tongue licks at your bottom lip where the skin has become dry and chapped, struggling to catch your breath as your desire becomes oppressive. Falling back on your tailbone, you spread your legs wider still, proud and impish as you slide your fingers down your slip, separating your folds to display your core. 

But he sees nothing as he lifts your underwear to his nose, fisting his hands in the fabric and pressing it against his face. Hoseok breathes in deep,eyes rolling back slightly in the effort of keeping his eyes open, a growl rumbling in his chest like a warning. Exhaling into the cloth, he laughs to himself, a high pitched, small sound of amused embarrassment before he falls completely silent once more. And then, he breathes in again, just as deep, just as fervent, lips kissing at the wet patch you have created.

‘I’m keeping these.’ Easing your underwear away from his nose, he crumples the garment and buries it in the pocket of his trousers. Cocking an eyebrow in pleasure, he takes in your exposed cunt, licking his lips. ‘I’ll fuck myself with them, imagining it’s you and your wet pussy.’

‘Pervert,’ you tease, jutting your chin forward in mock derision.

‘Whore.’ Inspired by your nakedness, he begins to undress, gaze heated and focused on your wet cunt. ‘I told you to touch yourself.’

Your fingers easily breach the barrier of your folds upon their release, wet with Hoseok’s spit and your walls slick and dripping with your juices. Years ago, you would have been ashamed of being so soaked, a damp patch expanding in the concrete beneath you in visible proof. But you no longer care, not when Hoseok’s expression of thirst is so incorrigible. 

You fuck yourself with your hand, fighting the urge to tilt your head back in relief - small as it is. In the heat of your lonely nights, you find it tragic your fingers never reach as deep as Hoseok’s slender digits; yours are too slim, knuckles not nearly as rough or pronounced. And when your mind drifts dangerously to thoughts of girth, your eyes drop swiftly to the pronounced shape of Hoseok’s straining cock. Swallowing the weep of appreciation that builds in your chest, your teeth chew at your bottom lip, clinging in anticipation.

Pressing the base of your palm against the hood of your clit, you whimper. Mild and meek as it is, your fingers bring a temporary relief, this satisfaction fleeting, and it will not be long before you are begging him to fill you. 

‘You’re dripping,’ he comments, interrupting your thoughts and removing his shirt in one swift motion. ‘Are you sure you’re not the princess of water? If I kiss your cunt I might drown.’

‘I’m in love with you.’ 

While not truly a detailed explanation, the words carry the weight of your whole chest, erupting with little thought. Your mind offers the only logical explanation for your wetness it can manage while your body grapples with the implication of Hoseok’s mouth upon your core. 

‘Say it again,’ he orders, hands tugging harshly at the zip of his trousers.

A slow smile spreads over your lips, head cocking to the side as you admire his eager expression. ‘I’m in love with you.’

‘Again.’

‘I’m in love with you.’ 

This time, you say it with venom, as though you want it to hurt and hope that it will leave scars in its wake. Hoseok tugs his trousers down his thighs, rising to his knees, appearing regal and godly. Freed from its cloth restraints, his cock springs upward to rest against his stomach, and he smirks, chest and neck flushed as your focus shifts immediately to the purpled bulbous head. 

Without hesitation, you remove yourself from your folds, the ache at your core only minutely grieving the loss of your small hand. Instead, you reach for him, fingers slick with your juices as you grasp the base of his cock with a gentle squeeze. He’s heavy in your hand, rigid in the solid way that makes your walls clench and drip once more, mirroring the way your mouth waters. Slowly, you move your hand up and down the shaft, letting your thumb rub over the leaking tip with care. 

Hoseok’s breath hitches, his hips thrusting slightly into your hand as you pleasure him. His own hands clutch at his discarded clothes, doing his best to exercise his dwindling patience, and you repeat motion, admiring the smoothness of the skin in contrast to the veins of his shaft.

‘I always wonder how you will fit inside me,’ you comment, moving your hand back down and studying the way your fingers do not meet your thumb. ‘You’re so thick.’

He rolls his shoulders back in the aftermath of your praise, inhaling sharply through his teeth. Hoseok is always free with his praises, showering you in worship and stating it is his duty to devote himself to the goddess in his favor. Always, he does this, and always he seeks nothing in return. But you have always sensed, as attuned to him as you are, that praise from you sets his soul afire. One word of praise from you and you are certain he could eat the god of Daeus entirely, rendering him completely human.

‘You were made for me,’ he explains, voice taught and words strained. Unable to hold back, he fucks your fist, seeking relief. ‘You will always stretch to accommodate me, just like your life was meant to. Just like your belly was meant to, stretching with my children.’ His gaze is penetrative, deeply serious for such an obscene state of being. ‘You were meant to take all of me. My true home is inside you.’

Your grip loosens slightly at his admission, lips curling into a small pout. ‘I so desperately wanted to give you a child.’

A choked sound rumbles through his chest, and his hand reaches yours, pulling it from his cock to wind your fingers together. With his free hand, he nudges at your shoulder, easing you back to the ground with a darkness in his eyes that has your throat running dry. Automatically, your legs spread wide, offering him space to settle between them. The tip of his cock rubs carelessly against your slit, and your focus fades, mind emptying with the single desire to have him inside you taking root. 

‘Promise me you won’t give him children,’ he commands, words thick with purpose.

He walks his hand languidly down  your body, grazing over your chest, your covered breasts, to the flat of your stomach. Beneath him, you tremble, the tectonic plates of your spine shifting beneath his touch. Splaying his hand over your stomach, he eyes your skin with parted lips and a furrowed brow. Hoseok wars with himself, his thoughts tangible behind the darkness of his irises, expression swimming with strife.

‘Promise me,’ he repeats. ‘I don’t think I could survive the thought of someone else's baby growing inside you.’ 

Raising your hand from the floor, you card your fingers through his hair while you squeeze your joined hands, determined to win his attention. 

‘I promise,’ is your soft whisper. ‘I shall bear no other child than yours.’ 

Invigorated by your promise, he returns his gaze to yours and maintains it as he works his way down your body with his tongue, kissing everywhere his hands have been. Without warning, he buries his face between your legs to bite gently at your clit, this contact a thunderclap in your spirit. Back arching off the floor, your voice shatters around his name, teeth chewing over the syllables as tears prick at the corner of your eyes. Your bones hum with the stimulation, very existence stinging and resonating, while he sucks your clit into his mouth, soothing the pain into a deep, soul burning pleasure. He swirls his tongue around it, mouth greedy and impatient, the fullness of his lips a heaven unrivaled by Teylim, and your hand tightened in his hair, body writhing in passion. 

Hoseok releases your clit with a wet pop before he kisses his way down to your folds, thrusting the flat of his tongue between them, impatient and hungry. Mindlessly, your legs spread wider, small gasps escaping from your chest as your lungs take in the scent of your sex and your hips roll upward, feeling your juices mix ceremoniously with his saliva. Consumed by the sheer power of your need, you feel yourself howl like a moonless wolf, rolling your hips against Hoseok’s face in erratic motions, inspired by the promise of your orgasm.

But Hoseok releases your joined hands, moving it quickly to your hips where he holds you still, growling against your cunt.

‘You shall not wander from me,’ he says, moving his lips against your slit as he presses you into the ground. ‘Keep still and let me feast on you.’

Once more, he thrusts the full length of his tongue between your walls, sucking eagerly at the juices spilling into his open mouth. He’s velvet and silk against your core, sturdy and solid while still gliding against all the places you have needed him most, and your voice careens off the ceiling, loud enough to drown out the ocean waves. Scratching your nails down the soft skin of your thighs, you fight back the desire to thrust against his face, wishing you could fuck his mouth and press yourself against the tip of his nose. All of it, every thrust of his tongue and every roll of your hips you suppress has you moaning, voice high pitched and growing erratic.

The feel of his tongue inside you inspires the deep desire for something larger, something thicker. Your orgasm is a threat in the center of your belly, spine tingling and tightening as each press of his tongue against your walls tames the beast of your racing heart. Hoseok buries himself between your legs with a diligence that borders on hysteria, holding you down and indulging in your

Still, his tongue only just hits the place inside your core that needs him most. You want him hard against your cervix. You want him deep enough to leave bruises on your softest pieces.

Tonight, you want the thick girth of his cock to splinter your bones. Tonight, you want his cock pressed against your cervix, a bruise you will carry for the rest of your life. Tonight, you want his cum so deep inside you it burns.

Tonight, you want him to love you and you want it to hurt. 

‘Hoseok,’ you whimper. ‘Please, I -’

Hoseok thrusts two fingers into your cunt beside his tongue, silencing you with the rough skin of his knuckles spreading your walls even wider. The contrast between his fingers and tongue elevates your hips from the floor with force, disregarding the strength of his hand. You are beastly beneath his ministrations, finding yourself caught in a wild hour and feeling as though you have abstained from him too long. He forces your hips back down with the palm of his hand, groaning against you loudly enough you feel his voice reverberate up to your tongue, and you cry out, distraught. 

Having left the top of your dress buttoned, your nipples strain against the cloth, sensitive and sending electric ripples down your arms, your shoulders - all along your nerves. Another breeze moves through the lighthouse, and it kisses at the sheen of sweat that has broken along your hairline. 

Desperately, you want him. Desperately, you need him. But still it’s not enough. 

‘God,’ you keen, ‘I need to cum.’

Hoseok hums in understanding, the vibration of it moving deep inside you once more. 

‘Oh,’ you whine, so small and so close to breaking. 

Hoseok’s tongue leaves your cunt, only his fingers remaining, and he moves his mouth to your clit where he sucks at the swollen nub deftly. Again, your hand scratches down your thighs, harsh enough to draw blood. Red and angry, the sting of these scores against your flesh makes you smile, a manic and monstrous expression you hope your father, Daeus, and all the gods can see. Frustrated and feeling the coil of your orgasm tighten, your other hand slaps into the ground, gripping at the linen of Hoseok’s shirt. You dig your nails into it, pretending it is him, his skin, his cock, anything substantial to torture him as he tortures you.

Against your cunt, you feel Hoseok begin to laugh, wearing the smirk of the devil as he sucks diligently at your clit.

His name begins in your mouth and dies on an exhale, eyes open wide as you stare up at the ceiling. Vision glazed and vacant, your body trembles as your orgasm lingers dangerously on the precipice of your nerves, skin growing hot and bordering on a point of pain. You hear yourself crying, you feel yourself pressing harder and harder against Hoseok’s eager mouth, and you struggle to discern if the rush in your ears is your blood as it moves swiftly to find him or the ocean that works swiftly to keep your coupling secret. 

And then, without any warning at all, Hoseok once more latches his teeth to your clit.

Your orgasm takes you by surprise, a wave of heat in your blood and skin, your juice cascading into Hoseok’s waiting mouth. This orgasm is an eruption, a shockwave in your soul that leaves you trembling while his relentless motions of tongue and hand milk you to completion. The tears you have held back begin to spill, soaking your cheeks as you soak his lips, a great wave over you that leaves you breathless.

‘Come up here,’ you gasp. ‘Come up here and kiss me.’

Slowly pulling his lips and fingers from your cunt, you hiss as he eases his way up your body. Using the tip of his tongue, he traces the shape of your parted lips with careful strokes, still messy and dripping with your slick juices. At your core, his cock presses, the contact sending tremors up your spine and causing a whine of pain to splinter in your throat. Granted permission by the sound alone, Hoseok delves his tongue inside your mouth and demands you taste yourself - you, your cum; him, his breath, his spit, his flavor; all of it, mixed together. Your walls clench as you kiss him, devouring him, as your folds seek to lure his cock inside you. 

Gasping against his mouth, you feel his tip press roughly against your core, your walls still sensitive but your body and spirit eager for his fullness. Hoseok pulls away from your lips to whine a low expletive, his resolve shaking and unstable, close to shattering by the force of his desire. His lips part on his sighs, breath slow and shallow, and still shimmering with you. Already, he had devoured you, drunk his fill and yet he still appears starved. As he lingers above you, Hoseok rolls his cock against your walls once more, a challenge, a reminder that he is exhausted by the prospect of not having his fill of you.

Moving your hands to his shoulders, you press your fingers into the soft skin of his back and muscles, letting them wander down and down until you grip the rounded flesh of his ass There, your grip tightens, threatening to push him inside you lest he waste any more time. 

‘Hoseok,’ you breathe. ‘I need you to fuck me.’

‘You want me to fuck you?’ he mumbles, running his tongue over your jaw before biting at your chin. ‘Tell me how badly.’

‘Please,’ you whimper, rolling your hips up against his cock, a warning against the tip. ‘I need you so badly it hurts.’

Wordlessly, Hoseok thrusts himself inside you to the hilt, balls pressing against you with a loud slap. You feel him shake inside you, body shivering with the sudden heat enveloping his cock. Hoseok’s moan is a deluge, an ecstatic exclamation howled victoriously into the juncture of your neck and shoulders, and you smile blankly at the ceiling, mind empty of all things that are not the feel of Hoseok against and inside you. 

His stillness is a tease you cannot endure, and so you clench yourself around him, his teeth biting at your skin as you release and repeat, urging him to move. The feel of his mouth at your skin, the feel of his heaviness pressed so roughly inside you, as your cunt leaking over him, back down into the floor where it coats your ass in its stickiness. Still, you pay little attention to anything other than his immense girth as it stretches you, your walls strained to accommodate him like always. 

Feeling you drip over and under him, he pulls out and thrusts back in, a knock at the door of your cervix and the sudden feel of him so deep as you groaning his name. He challenges you, repeating the motion as your bodies slide back along the floor with the force of his thrusts, the piercing sensation stealing your very breath. You are gasping as you clutch him, breasts moving against the fabric and nipples aching with the sensation, letting him push your body to its limits. 

‘Tell me you love me,’ he grits out, an echo of your earlier promises.

‘I love you,’ you choke, the words incomprehensible. 

‘Say it again,’ he hisses, executing a piercing thrust that has you gasping for breath, nails digging into his skin for purchase.

Squeezing your eyes closed, your hands move to the wings of his shoulder blades and you cling to him, a flightless bird. ‘I love you.’ 

When you hear yourself say it, you realize you are crying, your voice a sob of affirmation around tears of grief. It should be impossible to love someone this much, with the devastating whole of your existence. 

‘Tell me you love me,’ you plead, barely able to speak around the way Hoseok punishes your cervix, a punishment for abandoning him. 

‘I love you.’ Equally affected, his voice warbles over the words. Face buried in the crook of your neck, he presses the words over and over into your pulse. 

‘I love you, I love you.’

Slowing his pace, Hoseok accentuates his proclamations with brutal thrusts against your cervix. Slow as his thrusts may be, they are full of power and force, a pain against your walls and muscles ensuring you will never be free of him. Tears falling freely, your breath is as sharp as his thrusts, a burn in your lungs as you struggle to contain the cosmic feeling of love you hold inside. 

‘I know you like it when it hurts,’ he grits out, thrusts relentless. 

All you can manage is a nod, a moan, the dig of your nails into his skin, the acknowledgement that you would prefer it if he shattered you. You would prefer it if he left nothing behind of you at all.

‘I know you like it when I stretch you, when you can’t walk for days.’ 

‘I do,’ you nod weakly, legs automatically spreading wider - until your hips hurt, until you are certain your bones will bruise from the way you have spread yourself open just for him. 

Hoseok moans as a harmonic response to yours, the sack of his balls slapping diligently at your ass. You cling to him, holding him against you in despair, the vice grip of your hands matched only by the grip of your walls. Pleasure ripples through your synapses, an overload to your very synapses, little else registering in your mind apart from the places Hoseok penetrates within your core.

‘Do you want me to cum inside you?’

The pleading nature of his tone does not go unmissed, his own anguish evident in the way his hand cups your breast and his nails scratch at the flesh, wishing for entry. 

‘Yes.’

‘What if I get you pregnant?’ he muses, though he remains completely sincere. What if I fuck my baby into you? What will they do?’

‘I hope you do.’ It takes all your strength to speak without losing your breath. Once more your orgasm has started to build gloriously around the pain of taking him against your cervix, and you need him to know that you mean it. ‘I don’t care if they scorn me.’

‘I’ll do it,’ he bites out - not a threat, but a promise. ‘I’ll knock you up, fuck my baby into you. They’ll have to watch you grow someone else’s child. What a sight, huh? Bet Daeus would love to see you deliver another man’s baby.’

‘Do it.’

You see yourself, heavy and round with his child, glowing brilliantly like a constellation unto yourself. Carrying your offspring, you would be a supernova, the cradle of the very universe and you would celebrate it with every word breaking over laughter. Daeus would snarl at you, a sneer reserved for your growing belly; your father would find himself in a rage so beautiful and blinding, you think darkness would befall the earth, this winter sudden and unforgiving. The other gods would ignore you, this you are confident of and would take with pride. You’d tease them with it, finding yourself immensely confident in the power of being pregnant with Hoseok’s child. 

You’d carry his child as though this were your real pilgrimage within Teylim, your true purpose. 

And Hoseok, you know, would be your chosen king, god of the sun because he deserves it.

He deserves you. 

‘Yeah?’ he moans, hips picking up pace as he begins to chase his own high. Still, he loses none of the strength in his motions, seemingly motivated by your affirmation of desire.

‘Get me pregnant,’ you plead, biting your lip with shame at this impossible ask. A fool’s errand, a childish plea to change the way of things. ‘Make me stay with you,’ is your final whisper.

Together, you both fall silent as he fucks you with vigor, silent and awestruck by the violence of your coupling. With each thrust, your voices become a symphony of your union. Gripping him tightly, you hope it reaches the gods, your father, all of Teylim. You hope they see the way Hoseok fucks you, absolutely unforgiving. You hope they see the way you make a mess of yourself for him, that you have already decided on a husband and he is no god, no hero, but a man who loves you as though you are the whole of the sky. 

Hoseok trembles against you, and you sense his orgasm approaching in the way he gasps against your skin, thrusting harder and faster and, somehow, harder into your core. You are burning with the ache of containing him, but your own orgasm is cosmic, making its steady approach with each brutal thrust. Hoseok wanted to live inside you, wanted to give you a child, wanted to watch you swell with him alone - and it is these thoughts that send you over the edge, the universe apart from Hoseok melting into a white. In this orgasm, there is no air, no sea, no sky - only Hoseok; his breath, his smile as you cum around him, his ecstatic laughter.

You imagine yourself pregnant, learning to contain a sun inside your womb. You imagine him laughing, hands and lips at your belly. You imagine him happy. You imagine him happy, and your orgasm moves over you with the strength of a lunar tide, the same way your tears move over your cheeks, torn between sobs of bliss and sobs of grief for a life you will not have.

Hoseok continues to thrust into you with purpose, the last of your orgasm leaving you in shockwaves as the motions of his hips overstimulate your walls. It hurts to contain him, not nearly as much as it hurts to leave him, and you dig your nails into his skin, demanding all you can from him with enthusiasm. The world is tilted on its axis as he cums inside you, wave after wave of seed spilling into your core as you stroke tenderly at the hair at the base of his neck. Teeth chattering, you mumble his name, shivering as he spills himself inside you, and you pray, woefully, that he kept his word and left you with a piece of him.

‘Mine,’ he says, stilling inside you as the last of his orgasm quakes his mortal form. 

As his cock begins to soften inside you, the hand at your breast moves gently to the buttons. Your skin burns with the heat of the saliva he dripped against your neck, and he presses his cheek against your neck as he unbuttons the last of your dress. Exposed, now, to the sea breeze, your back arches slightly as the wind and his breath moves over your nipples. His hand cups your breast, too tender for the way he fucked you, and you are certain he is imagining your breasts full of milk, your body heavy, his wish granted, too. 

Pulling his cock free, you both grimace at the feeling, and he removes his hand from your breast to instead smear the cum from your core that leaks from between your walls over your folds. He strokes the tips of his fingers against your slit, the stimulation making you hiss and writhe beneath him in retreat, before you are crying out his name, his fingers dipping inside to scoop his cum from your center. As he pulls his hand free, his studies his fingers carefully, smirking not unlike the devil, before he guides them over your breasts and lets it drip.

And then, without warning, he begins to write his name along your breasts.

‘I am sanctifying you,’ he explains. ‘Anyone who pulls down your clothes will find me. I have already laid claim to your temple.’

Your smile is composed entirely of sadness, a hope that has made a home of despair evident in your expression. Holding his hand in yours, you guide his soaked fingers between the valley of your breasts to your stomach, where you hold him still.

‘With any luck it will be visible here,’ you offer, hoping he cannot hear how remorse has consumed you.

Hoseok frowns. ‘My biggest fear is that you do become pregnant and that I cannot see my baby grow in you. That I won’t be able to raise our family with you.’

Furrowing your brow, you tilt your head to the side in consideration, battling the new found grief that consumes you. ‘Did you not mean it?’

‘I meant every word,’ he promises, moving his hand from your stomach to cup your cheeks. ‘I’d put twins inside you if I had any control. But you are mine, our family is mine. I curse the gods for taking it from me.’ Hoseok falls silent, and you press your cheek into his hand, turning to kiss his mount of venus in encouragement. ‘The day I met you I saw my life with you,’ he continues, so quiet, and so unlike your Hoseok. ‘You are half of my soul.’

Abruptly, Hoseok lifts himself up and pulls away from you. As he rises to a stand, he is still warmed by your touch, the glow from your magic still draped over his muscles, turning him amber and yellow. He’s incandescent, as much as a god of light as you, more regal and more royal than any man who was lucky enough to slay a beast in your name. Running a hand through his hair, he regards you with dark eyes - embers burning in his rises of lust and longing, devotion and despair. He says nothing at all as he moves, naked and vulnerable, to the back corner of the room where he gathers his tools. 

‘What are you doing?’ you hum. Reaching your hand out, you curl onto your side, writhing in the pillow of your discarded clothes, beckoning him back to you. ‘Come back to me. It’s cold without you.’

He says nothing at all as he roots around, pulling out a thick screwdriver and hammer. 

‘He will give you rings,’ he says, more to himself than to you. 

The words come softly, barely a whisper that cuts through the air. Settling in front of the fog bell on his knees, he begins to hammer the end of the screwdriver into the metal, carving and carving. 

‘He will give you flowers,’ he grits out bitterly, ‘and will see your smiles in the morning. He will bring you food and nectar, and he will watch you glow your brightest. He will watch you glow each time you remember my hands on you, my lips on you. In bed, he will watch you glow, thinking it’s him, letting his own ego grow so immense he will get off on his own power rather than you. But he won’t know, not like I do. Not like we do.’

Sitting up, you don’t bother to cover your naked body, the breeze from the sea cooling your dampened skin. Licking your lips, you watch as his muscles strain with his pound of the hammer. Brow narrowed, jaw set, and hands gripping his tools with confidence, he marks the metal with a certainty born from a man learning to combat loneliness. 

‘He won’t know,’ he continues, words a grunt of demand and dominion. ‘No one will know that each time he touches you, you are comparing him to me. You will be remembering me. I want you to remember me. I want you to think of me, I want you to look for the light from this beacon, and I want you to outshine the anguish. I am destined to look for you the way so many people look for the North Star. My every storm is guided by you. So don’t you dare forget.’

The fog light spins overhead, clouds passing by and changing the refraction just enough to see the shimmer against his cheeks. Hoseok weeps as he carves, jaw unflinching, and hands steady with determination. A lump rises in the center of your throat, chest tight with the pain that comes from loving someone too much, entirely too much. Gasping for air, you move towards him, wanting his body pressed tightly against yours in comfort.

On instinct, you give him light - more light, so much light. From beneath your skin, you become torchlight, neon, candle flame; wrapping yourself around his back and shoulders, you rest your head on his shoulder and cling to him, becoming sunlight and firewood, banishing the darkness from his mind and mouth, a lamp unto his feet to lead him home. Pressing your lips at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, you feel him tremble beneath you, mindlessly leaning into you for more, endlessly more. 

As you turn to watch his hands, your own tears soak the corner of your eyes.

‘Hoseok,’ you breathe, regarding his craftsmanship.

‘He can’t give you light like I can,’ he murmurs, suddenly so small and so young, weakened suddenly by the ever looming distance between you. ‘He can give you all the falsehoods of husbandry, but he can’t give you light. He can’t give it back. He is not your equal like I am.’ 

Beneath the careful, diligent work of his hammer and screw, your name begins to take shape, just beneath his. The markings are deep, thick scratches unlikely to erode in any substantial length of time. Wind and sea will not wipe your names away, nor snow nor sand. Not even heaven, you think, could cause your names to smear. 

When he finishes, the bronze bell glimmers beneath your light, your names encased in a heart he artfully crafted. You imagine it in a wedding band - silver, and not gold. Gold, you think, is too soft and too malleable. The gods prefer it, a sign of eternal wealth and glory, but gold bends. Gold is too impermanent, value placed in all the wrong places. You would give Hoseok platinum, would give him silver, would give him bronze. If you had the power to move the earth, you would give him iron and steel, anything equally as enduring as the way you will be immortalized in ardor. 

‘I can’t believe this is all I will have of you.’ Hoseok stares at your names, at the jagged lines he carved into the bell, mourning. Shoulders slumped and hands folded neatly in his lap, he laments quietly to himself as though in prayer. ‘At the end of all this, this is all I have. Your name and a memory.’

Raising your hand to his chin, you turn his face to yours, biting your lip as he cries freely, tears staining the softness of his cheeks with salt. 

‘No one will have me, not like you.’ ‘He can take me, he can take my light, he can take my name, but he will never have my heart. All of me belongs to you. I am yours. Swear to me that you are mine.’

The hammer and screwdriver fall to the ground at his knees, a loud clank so disruptive for the quiet paradise you have built at the top of the lighthouse. Enveloping you in his arms, he buries his face in your neck, lips at the center of your throat - a place he has been so often this night you are determined to call it his home - tugging your hair back to make space for him. 

‘I’m yours,’ he swears passionately. ‘Not a single person will have me the way I’ve given myself to you. In a thousand summers, not a single one will pass in which I’m not yours.’

The conviction in his words undoes you, your eyes wide as you stare up at the ceiling, at the base of the light, feeling as though there is no difference between the moon and the sun, not anymore. For you, they are interchangeable, each burning in an hour of love; which is to say, there will be no hour that passes in which you do not love him, no hour passing in which your light does not belong to him and his does not belong to you. 

‘I wish I could stay like this.’ These affectionate speeches tumble from your lips, your mind empty of misgivings, wishing to be as honest as you are naked. ‘I wish I could stay this way, forever touching you.’

‘Time is meaningless,’ he muses, detached and distant, even as you hold him. ‘For me, this is the end of my life. There will be nothing else after this. For me, it will always be this way. My arms will always be around you.’

For him, you are glad. For him, you are relieved that there shall be no other moment than this. 

SEVEN MONTHS LATER

The seaside feels like the edge of destruction after so long away from it, gravity pressing at your bones. From where you stand, the unchanging nature of the earth makes a mockery of your nerves, the past beating against your sternum like a second heart.

You are poised and still, relearning the way the earth is unforgiving compared to the heavens. Too long have you been removed from such a tangible feeling of living, such a tangible reminder that you, too, are made of flesh and blood and all the things that break so easily, just like ocean foam. Your toes bury themselves into the rocky shore, rooting yourself like a tether as a promise that you will not run away, that you will not leave - not again. As though it senses your presence, the sea rages beneath a cloudless sky, the sun’s rays reflecting off the water, illuminated without any need of you.

The lighthouse looms along the hilltop, and you worry your bottom lip as you study its eternal guardianship. All these unchangeable things, loyal without you, and yet you stand here, begging for acceptance. You can hear Hoseok’s words like an echo, words not yet spoken but you anticipate them, the lump in your throat sinister in its tenacity. 

How dare you, he will shout, and the tears on his cheeks will be your parting gift. How dare you haunt me here when I did not expect you, when I had already worked so hard to give you up. 

Promises in the dead of night are easy to make when the daylight has yet to take anything from you. The earth remains unchanged but you are evidence of the passage of time, and you are certain Hoseok will have warred with himself so completely your memory of him is little more than a ghost of a man who died the moment he woke to find you missing. 

He used to be able to sense you here. Back when things were new and things were simple, back even at the end, he would sense your presence along the water and come running, a smile already at his cheeks in welcome. Stroking your naked hip with the tips of his fingers, he told you all about his skin would tingle when you were close, a static on his tongue that told him something too important to be contained by the earth was waiting for him. Even before he knew you, before he knew it was you, he felt it, as though he had been made just to know you, to find you. 

It used to be the same for you, a pull to the shore and a lightness of being that always made you stand here, in this place, waiting. Weeks passed before either of you had any idea you were near one another, before you’d even introduced yourself, and now it is the same. Your body combats the change in gravity with strength, though you realize too much has changed in you for the weight to feel the same. 

The hair at the back of your neck stands on end, rising in anticipation as the air becomes thick and heavy. You feel him approaching, a magnetic pull against your back that has your posture shifting, pulling you to your full height regardless how heavy all of you feels. Still, he doesn’t close the distance, and your lips part around a sigh, silently asking him to reach for you, to touch you.

But he won’t.

Not when he thinks you are the same as you were. Not when he thinks this is all just a memory.

Closing your eyes, you turn to face him, feeling tears burn against the lids. Hoseok makes no movement towards you, and, unable to hold back any longer, you open your eyes once more, weeping at the sight of him. Chewing at the inside of your cheek, you study the way he looks at you, the way his gaze traverses your form with a pained expression, the knot in his brow visible even from a distance. He’s far from you, far enough you cannot touch him, but he, too, remains unchanged - still beautiful, still glorious, still the sun king himself, and you choke back a bitter cry at the way it seems only you are the one who was allowed to change.

‘Hello,’ you try, offering a weak and unsteady smile.

Hoseok says nothing as he closes the distance, eyes trained at your middle, focused enough you feel him move inside you. He lets himself get close, close enough your skin calls out to his eagerly, begging him to touch you. You can smell him on the wind, the same musk, the same ambergris, the same dust that you remember, and your hands twitch at your sides, straining to reach out to him. 

‘What is this?’ he manages, not looking you in the face.

‘I -’ A small cry cuts you off, and you press your hand to your lips, forcing yourself to keep your composure. 

Hearing the anguish in your voice, he raises his gaze to yours and you see the way he mirrors your pain, confused and bewildered. 

‘Tell me what this is,’ he whispers, fierce and demanding. 

‘It’s exactly how it looks,’ you explain, feeling terribly pathetic.

It’s so simple, you know. Absolutely obvious. Your pregnant belly sticks out far enough now it leaves a distance between you, a gap where your child grows the only thing that separates you. 

‘Did you come here to mock me?’ he spits, leaning forward with venom.

‘No!’ you exclaim, holding your hand up in surrender. ‘I…’ you drift off, uncertain where to begin. You decide, perhaps, it’s best to begin with the truth. ‘The baby is yours.’ 

Hoseok’s expression shatters, a thousand different feelings breaking over his face before he settles on disbelief and quiet rage.

‘Why would you show me this?’ he pleads, sounding so small. ‘Have I not suffered enough? You knew I wished for this and now you tease me with it?’

‘I’m not here to show you anything, Hoseok, and certainly not to cause you pain.’ It’s shocking how tired you are becoming, putting in the effort of not reaching for him, not weeping for him, not rushing to an end you both deserve. ‘They...rejected me,’ is all you manage in the end.

Hoseok sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes watering as he lowers his focus to your belly once more. ‘They stopped the wedding?’

He speaks so softly you almost do not hear him over the rolling tide, and now, you cannot be contained. In one swift motion, you reach for his hand twining your fingers together. Your hold on him is unrelenting, not allowing him a single escape. Feeling his palm against yours is all the motivation you need, a resurgence of energy you have been missing for months.

When you continue to remain silent, he narrows his brow and persists. ‘Are you unmarried?’

‘They were going to go through with,’ you explain quickly, not allowing him any room for interjection. ‘They were going to make me marry him. Daeus even said he’d give the child to a human family, make it go through a Hero’s Journey to join us back in Teylim. Gods, the fight I put up to stop that from happening. The Fate Tying went poorly,’ you finish with a sardonic grin.

Gently, you tug Hoseok against you, forcing his stomach to bump against yours. His heated breath cascades over your skin, and you sigh in pleasure.

‘The child is completely human, my love,’ you whisper, eyes searching his face. ‘The Moirai refused to untie us.’ Incredulous, you laugh, looking out over the grassy hill in wonder. ‘The old crones are always right.’

The weight of your explanation steals Hoseok’s breath, and he falls against you, clinging to you as he sobs into your shoulder. Holding him close, you remember the last time you were in this position, your tears soaking into the fabric of his shirt, your hands clutching him, unwilling to be removed. As though sensing the great wave of his emotion, the child in your belly stirs abruptly, pressing against your womb to get his attention. 

You jump slightly at the feel of it, and Hoseok looks down, laughing, incandescent in his joy. He brings his hand to your belly, touching softly at where your child had just been, and he sniffles, looking to you and back down, cheeks reflecting the light you suddenly cannot contain. 

‘It’s a girl,’ you state, always wondering how he would react to knowing he’d have a daughter. ‘Our daughter kept me with you.’

Falling to his knees, he holds your belly in his hands and presses his forehead against its peak, too overcome with emotion to utter a word. Instead, he simply breathes deeply, wrought with bliss. Lowering a hand to the crown of his head, you thread your fingers through your hair and think that this, this precise moment, is what it means to be a goddess.

This is what it means to truly be sanctified.

#jhope smut #bts hoseok smut #bangtansorciere #bangtangames #kwritersworldnet #jhope x you #jhope x reader #hoseok smut #hoseok x reader #hoseok x you #bts hoseok x you #bts hoseok x reader #jhope fanfic #jhope fanfiction #bts smut #bts hoseok fanfiction #bts hoseok fanfic #hoseok fanfic #hoseok fanfiction #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #jhope #jung hoseok

[eliemo]

Heart of Ice

Summary: Virgil quickly realizes the light sides had some kind of unspoken rule about touch. Which would be fine, if it didn't just apply to him.

TWs: Brief panic attack, touch starvation and mentions of its affects, self esteem issues, angst with a happy ending

Taglist:  @the-blue-recluse @bisexualdisaster106 @self-taught-mess (let me know if you want to be added)

Virgil got it. Really, he did.

He was the villain for a long time, an unwanted nuisance everyone hated, and understandably so. He would never hold any hostility against them, not when he knew he deserved it.

Now...maybe he wasn’t a villain. Still a nuisance for sure, but a tolerated one. He’d been getting closer with the other sides, Patton’s smiles more frequent and genuine, Logan taking a real interest in what he had to say, and Roman’s annoyance quickly turning to fond affection.

So maybe they were friends. Or they were getting there at least. Virgil knew he cared about them more than they would ever care about him, but that was ok. He wasn’t outright despised and that was more than he’d ever dreamed of.

Sure, their affection could just be to keep him from ducking out again since they’d found out how easily he could ruin Thomas by leaving, but...but he hoped it was more than that.

It was a mix of conflicting emotions and desires, Virgil never quite able to understand if anything was genuine or not.

But they didn’t hate him. That was the important thing. It would be selfish to want anything more when he was so utterly unlikable, right?

He needed to get over himself. It didn’t matter.

It shouldn’t be bothering him this much. It was completely understandable that they didn’t want to touch him.

But did they have to act like he was some kind of disease?

They were all touchy feely people. Roman and Patton hugged countless times a day, and even Logan would absentmindedly clap their shoulders or squeeze their hands in passing.  

Virgil watched them lean up against each other, lace their fingers together, pat each other's back in greeting and praise. It all came so naturally to them, clearly some kind of unspoken language in their little family.

And Virgil wanted that. He wanted it so badly it hurt. His chest squeezed whenever he saw Patton squeeze Logan’s hand, the loneliness crushing when Roman would pick Patton up in a crushing but safe hug.

Virgil...couldn’t even remember the last time he’d been touched. He’d grazed a shoulder in passing once or twice over the years, and he and Princey had accidentally held hands for half a second during a video, but other than that he came up blank.

And he’d definitely never had a hug. He knew that for sure. No one had offered one because...because why would they? Who would want to hug Virgil?

It was amazing enough that they were willing to be in the same room with him. All three of them were trying so hard to be friendly in the last few weeks since he’d told them his name and...it was incredible. It was like a dream.

But it was so unbearably obvious how careful they were not to touch him. Like he was something disgusting to be avoided. Like he would burn them, taint them beyond repair.

They would swerve out of his way when passing through a room to avoid brushing his shoulder, quickly pull their hands away if their fingers were about to brush his, carefully leaving as much empty space as possible if sitting beside him on the couch.

It went on for weeks, and it didn’t stop. No one commented on it, or bothered to avoid physical affection in front of him, and Virgil decided the best course of action was to try and ignore it.

If he brought it up, it would just turn into something awkward, and nothing would change. He’d rather just avoid the subject completely.

Virgil could handle that. He could ignore the ache in his chest and push down the thoughts of how desperately he just wanted a hug.

Everyone at least had the decency not to make it a big deal. It wasn’t a big deal.

Until...until it kind of was.

It had been a stressful few days for all of them, but obviously Virgil was taking the brunt of Thomas’s anxiety. They all knew that, and he appreciated how attentive and gentle they’d been with him lately.

Thomas was waiting on an important phone call, a confirmation that would give him a green light on his latest project they’d all been working non-stop on.

Virgil didn’t know the specific details of what they were waiting for, he’d lost himself to his panic immediately after hearing the words “important phone call” but he knew it was a yes or no answer, and that Thomas was incredibly anxious about it.

He and Patton were waiting in the mindscape’s kitchen, mugs of untouched hot chocolate sitting in front of them, Patton idly chatting to keep Virgil distracted.

And then Roman and Logan were suddenly rising up- the Prince with a dazzling grin on his face and Logan with a relieved sort of smile.

“He said yes!” Roman announced, and just like Virgil’s shoulders sagged, all the tension seeping out of his muscles. Thank god.

There were still more things to worry about now that the new project was actually underway. They would have to work out a new schedule, make sure they had enough time to perfect their scripts, and then of course there was the problem of nobody liking the finished product--

But that could wait. Right now...it was just nice to see everyone so happy.

Patton was already jumping up to give Roman a hug, reaching over to squeeze Logan’s hand, and Virgil quickly turned away before the ache in his chest, the feeling that longed for something similar could turn into the cold throbbing pain he occasionally grew familiar with.

He grabbed the mugs of now cooling hot chocolate to distract himself, smiling to himself as he tried to focus on the relief instead of the sorrow, and carried them over to the counter.

He set the mugs down, turned back around, and suddenly Patton was in front of him, pulling Virgil into the first hug he’d ever received in his life.

Virgil couldn’t breathe.

Patton was warm up against him, solid and comforting, arms wrapped around Virgil’s back like the softest thing in the world, and for just a second, for the first time, everything was perfect. Everything was ok, and the ache in his chest was gone.

It lasted less than two seconds, and suddenly Patton was pulling away like he’d actually been burned.

“I--”

Patton stopped whatever he’d been about to say, staring warily at a completely frozen, speechless Virgil. The warmth had seeped out of his body almost immediately, the ache returning with a vengeance, the want for touch even worse than before.

Logan and Roman were staring, eyes going from Patton to Virgil, tense and panicked like they were expecting some kind of violent reaction.

God, was touching him really that bad?

“I’m sorry,” Patton said quickly, glancing back at the others before turning back to Virgil, who quickly averted his gaze. “Sorry, Virge I wasn’t...I wasn’t thinking. I just got excited.”

“Right,” Virgil said, glad that at least his voice didn’t betray how it felt like his heart was crumbling. “I get it.”

“Virgil,” Patton said softly, and Virgil’s heart sank when he took a step back, putting even more space in between them. “I didn’t mean to, kiddo, I...it won’t happen again.”

Of course it wouldn’t. Virgil shouldn’t expect it to. They didn’t even want to brush shoulders with him, so why the hell would anyone ever hug him voluntarily?

“I know,” he said, already moving towards the doorway, grimacing when the others stepped away to give him extra space. He couldn’t help but feel a little bitter at how obvious all of it was. Come on, it wasn’t like he was infected. “It’s whatever.”

He stalked out of the kitchen, for the first time allowing himself to feel angry over this whole stupid thing. After weeks of tirelessly working to be better, after being accepted in every other way, they still wouldn’t…

He’d thought he was getting better. They’d called him family.

“Virgil?” Logan called, but Virgil ignored him, really not in the mood for any half-hearted excuses or lectures on why he should just be happy with what he got.

It was selfish to ask for more. He was greedy and awful and he would never really be one of them. He should know that by now and stop filling his head with fantasies that they might actually love him as much as they loved each other.

Virgil didn’t bother looking back to see if any of them looked even a little bit guilty. He pulled up his hood, hurried up the stairs, and locked himself in his room. It was probably where they wanted him, anyway.

Virgil collapsed at the end of his bed, head in his hands, well aware it probably looked like he was throwing a tantrum. They all probably hated him even more now.

But...but could they really blame him for being frustrated? Yeah, he didn’t expect them to be entirely comfortable around him, definitely not as physical as they were with each other, but he was really trying.

They didn’t need to make him feel like some walking virus.

Well. He’d gotten a hug, at least. His first and last real hug. He thought he might do anything to have that feeling again.

But no one wanted to hug Anxiety. Patton had said so himself- never again.

When Virgil allowed himself to be coaxed out of his room for dinner a few hours later, he noted with some sense of relief that the others seemed determined to pretend the incident in the kitchen never happened.

Good. While it didn’t undo how humiliated and disgusting he felt, the sooner they all forgot about it the sooner Virgil could continue ignoring how badly it hurt.

He shouldn't be upset. He needed to calm down and get over himself before he started causing issues.

He did, however, wonder if it was just his imagination that Roman’s chair seemed farther away from him today.

“So...movie night tonight, right?” Patton asked suddenly, voice chipper as he set down his fork. “I think we could all use some relaxation.”

“A splendid idea!” Roman exclaimed, and Virgil managed not to flinch at the volume of his voice. “You’ll be joining us right, Marilyn Morose?”

Virgil startled when the attention suddenly turned to him, suspicion and hope waging war at the soft encouragement in Prince’s voice.

Was this...a guilt thing?

“I- I mean I guess,” he said. “Maybe. If you like, want me to.”

He’d always known they did movie nights at least once a week, all cuddled up together on the couch, but Virgil had never actually been invited to one until he revealed his name. He’d attended a couple of them now, and they were...nice. Even if he always ended up on the armchair.

“Of course we do!” Patton said. “We always do. You’re our family, kiddo!”

Well, they certainly had a funny way of showing that.

Virgil quickly backtracked, pushing away his own dark thoughts. That wasn’t fair to them. Aside from the lack of any physical touch, they had welcomed him almost completely. In every other way, he was treated like one of them.

Besides, he’d clearly done something to warrant the unspoken no-touching rule. It wasn’t their fault he was too stupid to figure out what it was.

“You are a large part of the reason Thomas succeeded today,” Logan added, and Virgil felt a bit breathless at the praise. “You stayed vigilant and cautious, and made sure there were no mistakes. I’m very grateful for your assistance.”

Virgil ducked his head, surprised when glancing at the other two showed only kind smiles and honest appreciation in their eyes. They were...actually being serious. He’d done something right.

“It...it wasn’t...I was just--”

“Doing your job,” Logan finished for him. “And doing it quite well, I might add. As you usually do.”

It wasn’t anywhere near as intense as the feeling Patton’s hug had brought, but...but it was close, warmth spreading over his chest. Virgil let himself relax, and offered a small smile in return.

“Ok,” he said, because he still was absolutely useless when it came to voicing his thoughts. “Thanks. Uh, you...you too.”

He might have missed it if he wasn’t always so attentive to people’s body language (sometimes overly so), but Logan’s hand was suddenly moving forward like he was going to pat Virgil on the arm.

It never made contact, of course. Logan caught himself in less than a second, the logical side sitting up ramrod straight and quickly pulling his hand back to his lap.

He offered an apologetic smile, Patton and Roman quickly clearing their throats and turning back to their dinner plates, and Virgil was forcibly reminded where he stood.

He’d done what he was supposed to do, keeping Thomas safe and helping him reach his goals, but that didn’t just magically change things.

Right. No touching. But he could survive off nothing but words of validation and verbal affirmation. That was just as good.

Except…

Except between the accidental hug and the rush of anticipation that came with Logan almost putting a hand over his own, Virgil had never felt the longing for any type of physical touch so strongly in his entire life.

He’d gotten used to having nothing, to being alone, just periodic glimpses of the warmth he would always be left out of. He’d adapted to it, learned to live with the cold ache in his chest, and moved on.

And now...

Now it kind of felt like he was dying. Like the cold loneliness was wrapping around him, all powerful and suffocating, his breaths coming faster and faster--

Patton stood to begin clearing the table, and Virgil was moving before he even really processed what he was doing.

“I got it,” he said. He was trembling slightly, and he was almost positive they could all hear it in his voice. “I can do the dishes. I’ll do them.”

It was a stupid, stupid thought that had crept into his brain, but right now- as desperate as it was- it was the only thing keeping him from falling apart completely.

Patton blinked, tilting his head like a confused puppy. “I- well thank you, kiddo but that’s ok, I think I--”

“I can do it,” he insisted. “You can- You can go relax, I- I got it.”

That was what he needed to do, right? He couldn’t be left feeling this empty and cold all the time. He would never give up what he had with the others but being this close to them all the time had awoken something in him. Nobody ever touched him and he couldn’t keep going like this.

He’d done well today. He’d been good and Logan had almost, almost set aside whatever personal bias they all had to touch him. It had been so close.

So obviously...obviously he wasn’t good enough. Not quite. He was still just horrible enough that no one could bring themselves to close the distance between them.

But that was ok. He could do better. He could be better. And if that didn’t work, then...well, then verbal praise was the next best thing, right?

Unfortunately, he must look even worse than he felt because Roman was suddenly reaching for Virgil’s plate, pulling it out of his reach.

For a second, Virgil thought about reaching for it under the small flare of hope that their fingers might brush.

“I don’t believe that is the wisest idea,” Logan said. “You’re clearly agitated and distressed. I recommend you wait on the couch while we clean up tonight.”

Virgil shook his head, though logically he knew the dirty dishes would end up slipping right through his shaking fingers if he tried to clean up right now.

But he couldn’t take the thought of just sitting on the couch, a useless hindrance they would only grow to despise more and more.

“I- I want to help--”

“Virgil,” Logan said. “Ever since you began regularly eating meals with us, there have been exactly three times you have not helped with the clean up. Two of those were because Thomas summoned you, and the other was due to your fatigue after a recent panic attack.”

“But I--”

“You have had a long day,” the logical side continued. “You’re exhausted, and you need to sit down before you end up hurting yourself. Nobody is going to be angry if you take a break today, Virgil. Please accompany me to the living room.”

And Virgil knew there was no way to argue with any of that. Not when Roman and Patton were nodding encouragingly. Not when Logan was motioning for him to follow and he thought maybe, maybe he would put his hand on Virgil’s shoulder to guide him into the living room.

He didn’t.

They both ended up on the couch, Logan counting out familiar breathing exercises to keep Virgil from hyperventilating. He did his best to focus on calming down, eyes cast stubbornly down to the ground.

There was a good couple inches of space between them, enough that Logan wouldn’t accidentally bump into him if he moved his arm too fast. Of course.

“I assume what happened earlier today has made you jumpy,” Logan said after a few moments. “I assure you, Patton really is sorry. Hugging you was never his intention, sometimes the others can just get...over excited when it comes to physical affection. Patton can’t always control himself.”

Virgil bit his lip, forcibly biting back tears that threatened to rise because this was really not helping. He understood that no one ever planned on hugging him, he didn’t need it shoved in his face all the time.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “I know.”

Despite everything, Virgil had actually managed to calm down a bit by the time the others joined them for movie night, Roman plopping down on the other side of Logan, Patton shuffling around to find the remote and set down popcorn bowls.

Virgil knew trying to leave would only invite more worried frowns and gentle questions he didn’t know how to answer (besides, he didn’t particularly like the thought of being all alone up in his room right now), so he just took a shaky breath and willed himself to stay calm, shoving everything aside for the moment.

And then Patton moved to sit down with the others, and visibly hesitated at the end of the couch.

There was plenty of room for one more person. It wouldn’t even be particularly cramped, not with the way Roman was already invading most of Logan’s space.

But, of course, it was just enclosed enough that it ran the risk of Patton’s leg brushing Virgil’s when he sat down.

Virgil stood up before Patton even had the chance to open his mouth and stalked over to the empty armchair, not bothering to hide his irritation. He might not blame them for it, but that didn’t mean he had to act happy about being so repulsive to everyone. 

“Aw, you don’t have to do that kiddo,” Patton said. “You can stay on the couch, I don’t mind.”

“It’s whatever,” he said, and it was like someone had just dumped a bucket of ice water over his head, the sudden distance separating Virgil from everyone else making him shudder, and his reply came out a lot more curt than he’d meant it to. “This is where you want me, right?”

Patton had lowered himself next to Logan and was peering at Virgil curiously, worried smile dropping to a slight frown. “You can sit wherever you want, kiddo. You know that.”

Virgil couldn’t stop the scoff that escaped. “Right. Just as long as it’s somewhere you won’t accidentally hug me again, right?”

The room was plunged into an uneasy silence. Great. He’d managed to make movie night awkward and the television hadn’t even been turned on yet.

“Kiddo, I--”

“It’s fine,” he said quickly, guilt coiling in his gut. “It’s...sorry. I didn’t- I know you didn’t mean to. Just...long day.”

“We’ve all had a long day,” Roman snapped, sitting up from where he’d been leaning against Logan, and Virgil inadvertently found himself wondering how that would feel. “There’s no need to be rude to Patton, Negative Nancy.”

He was the one being rude? Him? After weeks of them treating Virgil like he was contagious and not even bothering to offer an explanation?

“Right,” he muttered. “I’m the asshole. Like always.”

“Virgil,” Logan spoke up, clearly caught off guard by the sudden shift in tone, and Virgil deflated. “We...understand your uneasiness. But between the three of us, physical contact has become something of a habit. We have been careful not to extend that to you, but habits take time to grow out of. And mistakes will be made.”

And Virgil...Virgil was pretty sure if he didn’t get out of this room right now he was going to burst into tears. They’d never actually talked about this before. He’d never heard them acknowledge that it wasn’t just his overactive imagination.

“I get that,” he said, voice painfully strained. “I do, I’m...I’m not trying to fight I just- just...do you guys have to be so obvious about it?”

Virgil risked a glance up, all three of them staring at him now with some form of hesitant uncertainty.

Logan cleared his throat and echoed Virgil’s request. “Obvious?”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “You guys don’t...I don’t get why you’ve all decided touching me is somehow the worst fucking thing in the world. I know...I know you won't touch me and it’s not like I blame you- trust me, I’ve met myself- but...you could at least maybe try not to treat me like I’m carrying the goddamn plague!”

His outburst was met with silence, the other side’s expressions unreadable, and Virgil’s heart sank when he realized his vision was becoming quickly clouded with tears.

He quickly started to backtrack. “I mean, I’m...sorry. Sorry, I didn’t mean to...it’s ok you guys. Really, it is. I get it, I’m...I’m Anxiety. Nobody wants...obviously you guys aren’t ever gonna--”

“Virgil,” Logan cut him off, and the logical side sounded...panicked? “I believe we may have had a very large misunderstanding. You...would you like us to engage in physical contact with you?”

Virgil hunched his shoulders, frantically blinking away tears. “I’m not...I’m not gonna make anyone...you don’t want to, and that’s fine. Really. I’m not mad, it’s ok.”

“Honey, no.” Patton sounded breathless when he spoke up, frantic. “That’s not it at all! We thought you didn’t want us touching you!”

Virgil froze, everything around him screeching to a stop, and for a moment he thought he must have misheard.

“I- you...what?” Why would they... how could they think that? He’d actually thought it was fairly obvious how badly he wanted it.

Roman stood up from the couch and crossed his arms. “Why on earth would we go out of our way to avoid touching you if it wasn’t to make you comfortable?”

Virgil blinked, suddenly completely lost. What the hell was going on? He’d thought they’d made their intentions pretty clear.

“I...why wouldn’t I want you guys to--?”

“Well, you certainly acted like it!” Roman snapped, and Virgil knew the Prince well enough by now to know he wasn’t angry, just stressed. “If you didn’t mind being touched, you wouldn’t act like we were trying to electrocute you every time we got too close!”

Patton reached up to put a hand on Roman’s arm, steadying him, but his gaze never left Virgil.

Virgil was starting to think this was all some kind of twisted dream his touch-starved mind had come up with, flipping everything around for the sole purpose of confusing him. This was...this was a joke, right? Some kind of excuse?

“What are you talking about?” he asked, ignoring how bad the tremble in his voice had gotten. “I didn’t...guys, it’s ok if you don’t want to touch me, I-I’m not gonna force you obviously, I just...never understood why it was a big deal. That’s all.”

Patton was shaking his head, hands moving to cover his mouth as Virgil spoke, and the moral side turned warily to Logan.

“Virgil,” Logan said. “We clearly could have...handled this differently. We’ve been purposely avoiding physical contact because based on your body language, we... I concluded that it made you uncomfortable.”

“It wasn't just you, Specs,” Roman said, his voice softer than when he’d been talking to Virgil. “We all clearly misunderstood. I- I still don’t quite...understand.”

The room was spinning, and Virgil did his best to blink away the dizziness washing over him, furiously wiping away a few stray tears that made their escape. He hoped no one noticed.

“I thought you just...didn’t want to. Because it’s...you know. Me.”

“Oh, kiddo.”

“What did I do?” he asked, suddenly terrified as to how he could have misread the situation so horribly for so long. “To...to make you guys think that?”

Logan blinked, his brow furrowing as he scrutinized Virgil from behind his glasses, and all three of them looked oddly confused by the question.

“I...Virgil, it’s been fairly easy to pick up on for some time now. Even before we learned your name.”

Patton frowned, taking a small step forward. “You got...really tense whenever someone would go to touch you, kiddo. Like you thought it was gonna hurt.”

“Earlier on, one of us moving like we planned on touching you would result in a flinch,” Logan added. “Later, as we got closer, we noticed you going very still. Like you were afraid. It wasn’t hard to avoid touching you before learning your name, but now…”

“We had to be more careful,” Roman jumped in. “Clearly that...wasn’t what you wanted.”

God Virgil was so stupid. This whole time he’d thought...for once he hadn’t even done anything wrong. And now all he’d managed to do was make everyone stressed and confused. He’d fucked everything up without even realizing.

They’d...they’d tried to touch him before? Before even learning his name? If he’d just been normal he could have avoided years of that cold, longing feeling settling in his chest?

He wondered if things would change now. Probably not, Virgil reasoned with himself, his throat tightening at the thought. He blew it. They’d just be upset with him now.

“I am...I am so sorry,” Logan said, and Virgil was having a difficult time following what was being said. “After getting to know you and your behavior patterns, I had concluded that your aversion to touch stemmed from sensory issues that can often relate to anxiety. Clearly, I should have asked you for confirmation.”

Logan sounded genuinely guilty, while Roman and Patton were looking at him softly. It wasn’t a big deal. He’d been wrong. They didn’t hate him, he’d just stupidly misunderstood their intentions.

But it was all cleared up now. It didn’t matter. He could suck it up and move on, just as long as he could keep the annoyingly persistent tears at bay for a little bit longer.

“It’s ok,” he said, squeezing his eyes shut and hunching over himself when his breath caught in his throat. “It’s...i-it’s fine.”

God, he was so pathetic. He was pathetic. Why would anyone ever want to touch him?

“Obviously it’s not, sweetie.” Patton was suddenly in front of him, kneeling in front of the armchair. “We didn’t mean to hurt you, Virge, but it’s ok to be upset with us.”

Virgil shook his head, voice refusing to cooperate with his racing mind. He quickly wiped at the fresh tears, refusing to fall apart over something so stupid.

The next moment happened in a frantic blur, but everything clicked into place when it was over.

Patton carefully reached forward, moving to rest his hand on the anxious side’s knee, and Virgil’s heart squeezed in desperation and hope for the gentle, grounding touch he’d never been able to experience before.

His body ended up reacting differently, completely against his will. He tensed up completely, wide eyes locking onto Patton’s hand, his breathing stopping completely.

Patton noticed, of course. His face fell at the reaction, and he quickly pulled his hand away.

Oh. Virgil supposed it did look like he was scared rather than desperate. “S-sorry. I--”

“Don’t be sorry, kiddo,” Patton said, but he sounded hesitant. Disappointed. “It just...seems like you’re uncomfortable.”

“It’s...it’s not that,” Virgil managed. His voice was horribly unsteady, but he needed them all to understand that it wasn’t them- he was just too useless to control his own reactions. “I didn’t even realize I...I just have never had it before so I don’t...I don’t know how to--”

“Wait a second,” Roman said, Virgil quickly snapping his mouth shut. “What do you mean you’ve never had it?”

They were all staring at him, probably baffled and annoyed by his inconsistent rambling, and Virgil curled tighter in on himself, his cheeks burning.

“I...I’ve never, uhm…” He suddenly didn’t want to say it, all too aware of how little it mattered. This conversation should have been over a long time ago. “I’ve never been...you know. I-I’ve never...done it.”

Great, now it just sounded like he was speaking nonsense. But the others seemed to have some idea of what he was talking about, judging by the looks they were suddenly throwing each other. Roman was the only one who eventually spoke up.

“You- are you just talking about touch?” The Prince demanded, and Virgil shrank back. “Virgil, you’ve never been touched? At all?”

Virgil shrugged, dropping his gaze to his lap. “I mean, yeah. Not...not really. Other than, um, other than Patton hugging me today.”

But he’d seen Patton hug the others, and he knew what he’d gotten could barely count as one. Not that he had any right to complain. He’d be lucky if they didn’t shun him for the rest of his life after today.

“I’m sorry,” he said when the silence stretched on far too long to mean anything good. “I know, guys. I know it isn’t a big deal, I’m really really sorry for making it one, I just--”

“Virgil.” Patton’s voice came out more choked, more anguished than Virgil had expected, and then…

And then there was a hand on his face, cupping his cheek and brushing away the falling tears, and Virgil couldn’t breathe in the best way possible.

Patton’s hand was warm, enough to startle Virgil out of his spiraling panic for the moment, but his breath still hitched when he met the moral side’s watering gaze.

“Virgil,” he said again. “Is it alright if I hug you?”

Virgil blinked, still partly convinced this was a dream, heart racing in his chest. He couldn’t find his voice, eyes glued to Patton’s, but he managed a tiny nod.

It all happened so fast- suddenly Patton’s hands were wrapped around his own, pulling him off the chair and onto wobbling legs, and then he was being pulled forward...

Oh. Oh.

He fell against Patton’s chest, his head resting in the crook of the moral side’s neck, Virgil’s legs threatening to give out beneath him when Patton wrapped his arms around him and held on tight.

Virgil was sobbing before Patton even started rubbing circles on his back, rocking them both gently, hushing him softly.

He had no idea if he was doing this right, practically limp in Patton’s hold. His arms were just uselessly hanging there, hands wracked with violent tremors. But even if he did know what to do, he doubted he could force his body to move right now, only able to melt into the embrace as the living room filled with his miserable sobbing.

“Oh baby, it’s ok.” Patton was talking softly, his breath warm against Virgil’s ear, and he finally forced his hands to move up and clutch the other side’s shirt. “It’s ok, you’re ok. I’ve got you. We’ve all got you now. You’re alright.”

There was another hand cupping the back of his head, running fingers through his hair, and he caught a glimpse of Logan pressing up against them both. The movements of his fingers were slow and precise, burning Virgil’s freezing skin like the most pleasant fire, his words of reassurances lost to the sound of desperate cries.

And then Roman was there too, briefly meeting Virgil’s eyes with a sad but hopeful smile, suddenly moving around to join in and hug Virgil from behind.

He quickly realized that this, as overwhelming as it was for his first time, was the single best feeling in the entire world. He was certain that he would crash to the ground in a trembling heap if the others weren’t supporting his weight.

Virgil had never felt so warm. The brief hug in the kitchen had been nothing compared to this. He couldn’t stop shaking despite it, overwhelmed and so, so relieved, wanting nothing more than to melt into the embrace and never let go. He could stay here forever, wrapped up in safety and warmth, the rest of the cold, lonely world forgotten.

But eventually he cried himself out, sobs dying down to hiccuping gasps as he fought to get a hold of his breathing. Patton and Roman loosened their grip, Logan’s fingers slowing, but none of them pulled away just yet.

Virgil took in a shuddering breath. “I’m s- I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Patton said. “You don’t need to be sorry for a thing, kiddo.”

He clutched Patton’s shirt tighter, sucking in a breath when Roman moved to put a hand over his fist. “I- I thought y-you...you all--”

“We should have asked,” Patton said, pulling back enough to see Virgil’s face. “We should have realized you were hurting, honey. That’s our fault.”

“Not yours, Virge,” Roman agreed, leaning forward slightly to press his forehead against Virgil’s temple. “I can’t even imagine how isolated we must have made you feel. But that’s over now. We can fix this. We will fix this.”

“I do want to offer my sincere apologies,” Logan said. “We had all misread the behavior, but I was the one who enforced it after learning your name. I should never have jumped to conclusions so quickly.”

Virgil tried to shrug, but it quickly proved to be impossible with how tightly he was pressed against the others. He didn’t mind at all.

He wasn’t ready to let go yet, despite the way his stomach twisted at the guilt Logan didn’t deserve to be feeling, a dark part of his mind whispering that once he pulled away, the warmth would never come back.

“It’s ok,” he said, voice still raw and hoarse. “It was just a s-stupid misunderstanding, right? I shouldn’t have gotten so worked up, I- I know it’s not a big deal. It’s just a hug.”

It was a lie and they all knew it. Silly as it was, it meant the world to him. He would do just about anything to make this feeling last forever.

“Virgil, no.”

Patton was moving away, and Virgil felt a rush of blinding panic before Logan suddenly took his place, holding Virgil’s face in his hands, eyes wide and intense. Patton didn’t go far, his hand moving to clutch Virgil’s arm, and Roman only tightened his hold.

“It is not stupid, Virgil,” Logan said, tilting Virgil's chin up. “Not at all. I can assure you, it was far from an overreaction.”

“Logan--”

“Physical touch is essential for one’s mental health. Especially for those who experience heightened anxiety. I should have known... depriving you of any physical contact your entire life has left you incredibly touch starved, likely only worsening any symptoms you would naturally experience.”

Usually, Virgil found it fascinating listening to Logan, the way he so naturally took on a teaching position, spouting off information like he was reading from an invisible book.

Now, the dread and panic were clawing at his throat, and Virgil swallowed, forcing himself to speak. “Am I...am I hurting Thomas?”

The terror was overwhelming, doing all it could to convince him that the others would hate him, that Thomas would want him gone for good. But it didn’t last long, Logan shaking his head with an unbearably gentle expression.

“I am not talking about Thomas’s mental state.” He reached forward to brush away some of Virgil’s hair, looking oddly relieved when Virgil leaned into the touch. “I’m talking about yours.”

“Oh.”

Roman finally dropped his arms, but just like Patton he didn’t go anywhere, his chest still brushing Virgil’s back while he reached for one of his hands. Patton took his other one, both running gentle patterns over his knuckles with their thumbs.

Virgil felt like he was going to melt right here and now. He couldn’t help but smile.

“Since it seems you're comfortable with touch,” Logan said, and Virgil almost wanted to laugh. He was a little bit more than comfortable. “I’m hopeful we can undo any damage that has been caused. Tonight is already a good start.”

And that...that sounded amazing. It sounded more than amazing. It was all he’d wanted this whole time, years of bitter, icy cold loneliness already paling in comparison to the warmth and love he’d felt in the last ten minutes.

But...

“I...thank you. Thank you so much, but...I-I don’t want to make you do anything you don’t--”

“Kiddo,” Patton said. “Do you know how many times I’ve had to stop myself from hugging you?”

“All of us,” Roman added. “I’ve lost track of how many close calls I’ve had. I thought it was good you didn’t seem to notice how badly I wanted to, but...apparently not. But we love you, Virge. We love you so much.”

“We do!” Patton squeezed his hand. “We really, really do. You’re not forcing us into anything, kiddo. You’re family.”

Virgil kind of wanted to pinch himself to make absolutely sure this wasn’t a dream. But there was absolutely no way he could make up something this good.

“Ok,” he said, still wincing at how weak his voice sounded. “That’s...that’s good because I...I don’t think I could go back. Uh, to how it was. After...after all this. I-if this was just a one time thing, I don’t know what I’d do. And I know that’s dumb, this is literally my fault, but--”

“None of that,” Logan said, firm but not unkind, and Virgil fell silent. “This is far from a one time thing. I believe you’ll start having a hard time getting away from the hugs now.”

Virgil laughed, not really caring when it came out as more of a strangled sob. “I think I’m ok with that.”

“It’s still early,” Patton said. “You kiddos think we should take this to the couch? We can still watch some movies if you’re up to it, Virgil.”

As soon as he nodded, Virgil felt arms wrap around him again, one under his knees and one behind his back, lifting him up from the ground.

“Princey!” He wrapped his arms around Roman’s shoulders by instinct and froze, suddenly terrified he would be yelled at. But, he reminded himself, Roman was literally holding Virgil in his arms. Nobody found Virgil repulsive. “I can walk, dork.”

Roman grinned down at him, taking them both back towards the couch. Virgil found he really didn’t mind being carried when it ended up with him put down in the middle of the couch, still curled up in Prince’s hold with his head against Roman’s chest.

The others joined soon after, Patton grabbing the popcorn and sitting on Roman’s other side with his legs propped up on Virgil’s lap. Logan sat directly next to Virgil, his hand squeezing the anxious side’s shoulder before dropping his head to rest on Virgil’s shoulder.

Virgil shuddered, tensing against his will at the rush of sensations, but no one pulled away when he didn’t quite know how to reciprocate.

“Just relax now,” Roman said softly, pressing a kiss to Virgil’s hair while Patton got the movie started. “We’re not going anywhere.”

Virgil wasn’t sure when he fell asleep, only vaguely aware of himself drifting in and out of consciousness, still held safely by the others on the couch, an old familiar Disney movie playing in the background.

He thought his position might have been changed, but he still felt the rise and fall of Roman’s chest beneath his head, someone’s hand running gently through his hair.

For the first time, he felt safe upon waking up and let himself keep his eyes shut, breathing deeply.

“Is he asleep?” he heard Patton ask, the hand in his hair slowing for just a moment. “He really wore himself out today.”

“Indeed,” Logan agreed from somewhere nearby. “Not to mention a common side effect of touch starvation is difficulty sleeping, nightmares, stress, a lower sense of self worth, dep--”

“But he’ll be ok now,” Patton said, thankfully cutting off Logan’s worryingly accurate description. “He’s got us, and he’s my kiddo. He never has to feel that way again.”

“It will take some time. And eventually we will have to have a talk about consent and boundaries- I don’t ever want him feeling overwhelmed. But you are accurate, Patton. He has us now. He will be alright.”

Virgil had to force himself not to smile, not quite ready for this to end for the night. He knew eventually he’d have to head back to his room, but the thought of being alone again, even just for the night, was--

“I don’t want him to wake up alone,” Roman whispered, like he could read Virgil’s mind. “Is it alright if we stay here tonight?”

“Of course, kiddo.”

“I am perfectly comfortable where I am.”

True to their word, none of them seemed inclined to leave the comfort of the couch, the movie’s volume eventually turned down to a faded hum.

Virgil sighed, relaxed and content, letting himself smile as he fell back into the first truly restful sleep he’d had in a long time, followed closely by warmth and love.

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #virgil sanders #ts virgil #logan sanders #ts logan #patton sanders #ts patton #roman sanders #ts roman #polysanders #platonic #prinxiety #analogical #moxiety #found family #touch starvation #this is a quarantine mood ngl #angst #hurt/comfort #fanfiction #writing #sympathetic everyone

[elysiadjarin]

Day 3: Dacryphilia

Jesse Cromeans may be a ruthless killer, but at home with you? You’re the one in charge. And especially those days when you’re annoyed at how long he’s been gone and he comes back so desperate for your attention… well. You did so like to see him cry.

Day 3 of Kinktober has arrived! I actually think I discovered some things about myself writing this one, so y’all enjoy. 😂 Find my Kinktober Masterlist here.

Warnings: Minors DNI, this is 18+ content only. This one is a slasher x reader fic, so please beware of mentions of murder and assault as part of the territory, though nothing is explicitly mentioned. PinV unprotected sex, dacryphilia, desperation, cumplay.

Tags: Jesse Cromeans (Chromeskull) x reader, slasher x reader, yandere!reader, soft femdom, sub/dom themes

Paint Splatters over Canvas

It was rather funny, really.

You scrolled through your phone, ignoring the giant man standing in the doorway of the room staring at you. Jesse had always made a point of never touching you without your permission. A way for him to separate the meaningless victims of his murderous hobby with you, his wife, his everything. And while of course your relationship stayed perfectly strong, you well aware of his hobby and he well aware of your own tendencies… it did sometimes backfire on him in the best worst ways.

Like now. When you were annoyed with him because he’d been gone an entire day later than he’d promised, extra dark web cash be damned. A promise was a promise, and it wasn’t as though he’d needed the money. He did have a perfectly legal and highly successful business, after all. So shouldn’t you have come first?

You liked revenge cold, playing the long game; something you had in common with Jesse. And today, you certainly had plans put in place for said revenge. Which, for the time being, meant ignoring Jesse. You had plenty to occupy you, from communications for the business to just working on your own projects. Still, you’d made sure to be just nonchalant enough to let him know that it was all so… deliberate.

Jesse shuffled in the doorway, clearly wanting your attention but knowing better than to think any sort of demanding would get him anywhere. He’d learned the hard way that at home, his power over subordinates decidedly did not apply to you. When you didn’t give him any response, he hovered for a moment, clearly trying to decide on what to do next.

You knew how he would get after a mission. Needy. Wanting. Starved for attention and affection from you. Pent up for days, probably thinking about you every spare moment between takes.

With a hum, you typed out a message on your phone before standing and heading for the doorway. You briefly looked up to see him as you brushed past in the doorway. “Oh, hi, Jesse,” you said, giving him a brief, distracted smile. “I’m off to get ready for a meeting with a client.” You headed for the bedroom, already thinking about your next steps.

You could hear him following behind you, could almost feel the mounting despair as he started to realized what was happening. Why you had used his name instead of the usual love, darling. His shoulders hunched, and you could see his face twist as he clearly tried to think of what to do. He already knew that you’d have your revenge however you wanted: apologies would be expected but certainly wouldn’t get him any closer to mercy.

Walking into the bedroom, you headed straight for the bathroom to start preparing. Jesse still trailed along behind you like a forlorn, helpless puppy, and you swore you could almost hear him let out a small whine. Pausing for a moment in front of your vanity, you dialed your friend’s number and set it to speaker, putting it down on the countertop and sitting in front of the mirror.

You tied your hair up and reached for your cosmetics, beginning the process as the phone dialed. Your friend picked up quickly, already in on your plan thanks to your texting. She always approved of your payback plans.

Bestie! I thought you said you had to prepare for the meeting? I mean, yknow, not that I don’t like hearing from you. She cheerfully teased over the phone.

You smiled. “Well yeah, I just sat down to do my makeup. But I mean, we did say we were going to talk about the party for little Jacen this weekend, and what better time than now? You can help me pick out an outfit once I’m done,” you cajoled, noticing how Jesse sat on the edge of the jacuzzi bathtub, unabashedly staring at you. He always had loved watching you get ready for an event. Not that you minded.

Fair enough. Your best friend admitted readily. But seriously, you didn’t have to go all out for Jacen like this. She half scolded. It’s so much!

You laughed lightly, the creamy foundation smoothing across your skin. “Oh c’mon, he’s my adorable little nephew in all but name. He deserves to get spoiled by his doting Aunt, let me have my fun,” you wheedled, knowing she would cave.

She sighed over the receiver. I swear, girl, you could convince anyone into anything.

“Or maybe I’m just your weakness, Miss Mara,” you teased back. The soft brush in your fingers blended the contour onto your face, and you smiled as you glanced at the phone. “But anyway, did you manage to figure out what he might want for a birthday present? Or are we going with my original idea to let him loose in a mall?”

Oh, no, you are so not buying him everything he points at. I’d never get him to not be a spoiled brat if I let you.Mara snorted. I’ll text you what I figured out, he seems to be pretty fixated on it right now.

“Ugh, fineeee,” you sighed, rolling your eyes. “But I’m going to at least get him that adorable motorized scooter I showed you before. He’s going to look so cute riding around in it.”

Fair enough I suppose. Better than the mall idea— wait, did you just get me to agree to something extravagant by threatening something so ridiculous—

“Anyway,” you interrupted blithely, “did you send out invitations to everyone?”

Yep, and I got back all the RSVPs. Speaking of which, I thought you said that you were meeting with the CEO of some business tonight? What’s that all about? I know you, you normally don’t like dealing with people.

You sighed. “Well, I guess the cat’s out of the bag a little.” You pouted, reaching for the eyeshadow and liner. “Jesse was supposed to be back yesterday, but since he wasn’t I had to reschedule, and I promised to personally meet with the CEO in order to smooth over ruffled feathers. But besides that… I wanted to be there personally to see my best friend and her husband’s house finally paid off for their fifth anniversary.”

A pause. Then a screech that made you grin. You’re not serious! Babes, no, wait—

“No use protesting!” You said cheerfully, waving your brush. “It’s already been practically settled. Besides, you both need to start saving up for Jacen’s college funds. We did have the agreement that I’d open the doors to whatever college he wanted instead of just paying for it,” you reminded.

Ugh, I don’t know if I want to smack you or hug you, you sly little— Mara groaned. Wait till I tell Damien, he won’t know what hit him. She laughed. Thank you. You know how much it means to us. I won’t scold.

“Good.” You nodded. “And you know I’ll take care of you.”

She sighed. Never doubted it. So, how’s the process?

You hummed, pursing your lips as you finished the eyeshadow and grabbed the mascara. “About to do mascara, then all I have left is the lipstick. But shouldn’t I wait till we pick a dress before I actually pick a color?”

Probably. What’s the mood? You going for boss ass bitch, sultry Queen, or mysterious vampire lady? Amusement laced Mara’s voice.

“You’re not even in my house and yet you walked in and called me out to my face,” you said dryly, earning laughter. Jesse, you saw in the mirror, tilted his head with a small smile playing over his lips. He’d quietly observed the whole processes, eyes fixed on your face.

Only cause I love you. So, show me the closet, girl! Oh, show me your makeup first tho so we got reference.

You picked up the phone as you finished, turning on the camera so she could see your makeup sans the lipstick. She whistled, eyebrows wriggling teasingly as she grinned.

Oh, so mysterious vampire queen it is. She smirked. Closet. Though I do have the feeling that we’re going to be choosing a gorgeous red lipstick.

“Yes ma’am,” you answered, standing and heading for your closet. You heard Jesse stand and follow behind you, and stifled a smile. Flipping the camera, you started to flip through the racks of dresses. “Does that mean we’re leaning towards a black dress?”

Hmm, probably. Actually, how about one of your sleek black ones? The one with like, barely any frills and only a tiny bit of lace at the top. Off the shoulder. If you’re gonna try to assert dominance, probably drawing attention to your mouth and hands is the best way to go.

You tilted your head at the hangers, then nodded. “You’re right. Especially if I go for the red lipstick. I could also honestly use a glass of wine during that meeting,” you sighed.

Mara snickered. Blood in a wine glass? How stereotypical of you, madame.

“You hush, drama queen,” you said dryly, finding the dress she’d described and pulling it out.

Ooh, that’s the one! And I know you have that one crimson shade of lipstick that I always say looks vampiric.

You went back to the vanity and set the phone down, pretending to not notice that it showed Jesse standing in the doorway, clearly staring at you. You slid your shirt off, careful not to smudge any makeup, then slipped out of your pants and reached for the dress. Smoothing it over your front to get rid of any wrinkles, you sat back down and tilted the camera back to yourself, reaching for the lipstick.

“This one, right?” You waved it in front of your face.

Yep! That dress is stunning, by the way. Oh, and what are you doing with your hair?

“Ugh, I don’t really wanna bother too much with it, so I figured I’d go with the… messy, loose waves.” You shrugged, applying the lipstick.

Mara snorted. I think you mean, ‘sorry I’m late I was doing things’ while ignoring Jesse staggering behind you clearly radiating ‘I’m things’ energy.

You half-choked, laughing despite yourself. “Mara-! Seriously!”

She rolled her eyes at you. I’m just saying it like it is. But you go girlie, you look bomb. She laughed. Blow them all away. Be the boss bitch you are. A noise in the background interrupted her. Oop, that’s my cue. I gotta go, text me though okay?

“Will do, tell Damien and Jacen hi for me.” You smiled and hung up, finishing fluffing your hair. Standing, you grabbed the phone and headed for the door. “The meeting is in five minutes,” you remarked to Jesse as you passed him in the doorway. “If you want to join.”

You saw him type on his phone, the text to speech translator sounding a moment later. May I be there with you?

You flashed him a warm smile, as though you weren’t at all deliberately enacting revenge. “Of course! I’d love to have you there. Let’s go.” With a little hum, you headed towards the stairs.

Your phone pinged with a message. Girl, I swear he was drooling. You’re so mean sometimes. Not that he didn’t deserve it.

You suppressed a laugh, replying with one hand as your other slid down the bannister to guide you down the staircase. You know it. Mission so far successful. Wish me luck, I’m about to go into this meeting.

You looked up as you got to the bottom of the stairs, seeing an assistant waiting with the guest. The assistant bowed politely. “May I introduce Mr. Trace, CEO of Finley Bank.”

Giving the assistant a nod, you turned to Mr. Trace. “Greetings, Mr. Trace. Welcome! Thank you for agreeing to meet with me. I do apologize for the delay,” you said, taking charge and sweeping towards the parlor.

He followed after automatically. “Of course, Mrs. Cromeans,” he answered, quickly recovering from his moment of bewilderment.

You motioned to a chair, sitting on the velvet couch across the coffee table. “Please, please, have a seat,” you said, keeping the easy smile on your face. “Can I get you a drink? Anything at all?”

He blinked, sitting down and setting his briefcase next to him. “Ah— thank you. I’d appreciate a scotch on the rocks if it’s available.”

“Of course,” you said easily, nodding to the maid standing nearby. “A red wine for me, please.” You smiled at Jesse as he sat next to you. “Your regular?” you asked sweetly. At his nod, you turned back to the maid. “And a glass of dry white.”

She bowed and went to go fetch the drinks.

“I’m sure you have plenty of other things to do, Mr. Trace,” you said smoothly, “so I’ll not take any more of your time than necessary. Of course, as I said, I’d like to discuss several things with you…”

Twenty minutes later found you leaning against the arm of the couch, feet propped up beside you as you swirled the last dregs of the red wine, tapping the glass with your fingernails. The CEO had long since emptied his scotch, and Jesse was on his second glass. His fingers kept clenching around the flute of his glass every time your feet brushed against his thigh.

“Of course,” Trace said with a nod, jotting down the final notes on the paperwork. “Easily managed. Are there any other details you would like to add or anything else to discuss?” He looked up at you.

Your tactics of firm politeness and the scotch seemed to have worked their charm, and you’d been able to rather easily dominate the flow of the interaction. Not to mention, Mara had been right about appearances clearly setting a tone. Trace seemed to be studiously avoiding eye contact with either you or Jesse.

“Not at all, Mr. Trace,” you said, a pleased note in your voice. “I’m rather pleased at how everything has turned out. We do so value your business, you know.” You tilted the glass in your fingers. “Shall I sign the papers?”

“At your leisure.” He slid them across the table toward you.

You slowly uncurled yourself like a lazy feline, straightening yourself and leaning over to set the glass down on the table. Grasping the pen, you slowly signed your name on the papers, eyes glancing over the print to ascertain that everything was in order. Shuffling through the papers, you finally set the pen down.

Trace took them back, glancing through them before nodding. “Everything seems to be in order.” He slid them back into his briefcase. “Thank you as always for your business, Mrs. Cromeans, Mr. Cromeans.”

You nodded, and Jesse stood, setting his glass down. You rose as well, sliding your arm into the crook of his elbow as he automatically adjusted for you. “And thank you for your help, Mr. Trace,” you answered easily. “I do hope you have a productive rest of the day. Do be safe out there.”

He nodded as the assistant returned to escort him out. “Same to you.”

With a hum, you absently patted Jesse’s arm and let yours slide out of his grasp, drifting towards the stairs again. “Oh, I need to go tell Mara it’s all confirmed. Besides, this dress is only comfortable for so long,” you remarked, pulling out your phone again.

Guess who completely owns their house now? You texted Mara, smiling. And your tactics worked, I think dominance was asserted.

You waltzed into the bedroom, headed straight for the closet. “Jesse, are you hungry? I think the food I ordered should have arrived by now, it should be in front of the TV. Maybe pick a movie? I still have a few messages to send.”

You changed into a comfortable black babydoll nightdress, sighing in relief as the silk slid over your skin. It was far more comfortable, and you could feel yourself finally starting to relax after the pent-up tension of the meeting. You really did hate dealing with people, especially ones like the CEO.

Your phone buzzed as you went to go pick it back up. You are literally the best. Now go finish seducing Jesse while I go figure out how to make this news sexy.

Stifling a snort, you went to go wipe your makeup off and wash your face. You could hear the sounds of the TV starting in the bedroom, so you took one more glance in the mirror before heading out into the room, still tapping at your phone. You still had to finish some arrangements for Jacen’s birthday, after all, and your revenge was still percolating.

Jesse’s head turned as soon as you approached the couch in front of the TV. You ignored the way he froze, sliding onto the couch and tucking your feet under a soft blanket. Sending off another message, you set it beside you and reached forward to grab a tray, pulling it into your lap.

“I figured you might not want anything too heavy since you just got back, so I kinda just made a guess and ended up ordering too much…” You frowned at the myriad of food laid out over the table. “Sorry, Jesse… I don’t even know if this is what you want—“

The text to speech cut you off. The food is fine, thank you. I’m sorry for being late. I know I can only make excuses, but I am sorry. Can I make it up to you?

A frown touched your lips as you picked up your spoon, still not looking at him. Your fingernails tapped against the screen of your phone. “Jacen asked the other day if Uncle Jesse would be at his party. I told him I didn’t know, but I’d ask.”

He quickly typed. Of course, if he asked for me, I’ll be sure to be there. His fingers paused, then he slowly typed again, as though hesitating. I got you a present while I was gone.

You hummed, swallowing your food and picking your phone back up. “He’ll be happy to hear it. And thank you for the present.” You sent a message to tell Mara that Jacen’s wish had been granted.

Jesse practically fidgeted as he ate, the movie playing in the background. You could feel his eyes slide from the screen to you, could almost hear the wheels in his head frantically turning. The tension in every line of his body was obvious, his movements stilted and jerky. He practically twitched every time you so much as moved.

Finally, you set down the tray, grabbing a mint to refresh your mouth. Shifting to get more comfortable, you angled yourself towards him a little more. You snitched a piece of food from his plate, letting out a hum as you smiled down at Mara’s message. If possible, Jesse stiffened even more, his fingers clenching so hard around his spoon that it even bent a little in his grasp.

A crumb fell from your fingers onto the lace edge of your nightgown, and you let out a quiet noise of protest as you looked down. Your fingers brushed against the top of your breast, brushing off the crumb. Sticking your finger in your mouth, you typed out a message in response to another conversation. With a sigh, you looked up and glanced over Jesse’s shoulder to see the lamp on the table next to him. Night had fallen, and shadows fell over the room.

Stirring yourself, you sat up, setting your phone down for a moment. “Can I turn on the lamp? I don’t wanna get up for the lights,” you said, starting to lean across him. Almost thoughtlessly, you placed your hand on his thigh and put your weight on it, reaching over his body on your hands and knees to pull at the cord on the lamp. The light clicked on, just as a low keening sound came from Jesse.

Your head tilted at the sound, and you turned to look up at his face. It was your turn to freeze.

Jesse’s face had crumpled, his soft green eyes literally awash with tears. His hands were clenched at his sides, his chest heaving with hitching breaths as he struggled to control his expression. The tears welled in his eyes, and faint color had splashed across his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

Slowly, a smile crossed your lips as you stared up at his face. Leaning back, you tilted your head, licking your lips. “Oh, look at you,” you breathed. “You made all the little piggies cry, Jesse. But maybe it’s your turn, hmm?” Your eyes flickered down to the way his entire body trembled, every muscle taut and strained.

You moved, sliding your entire body into his lap to straddle his waist and face him. Crossing your arms under your chest, you stared into his face. “I don’t know… you broke your promise, though.” Your eyebrow raised at him, and he let out another hoarse whimper. Tears slid down his cheeks, his mouth opening for shuddering breaths.

He shook his head, lips trembling as he lifted one hand and signed. Sorry. Please. Sorry. His fingers spelled out your name.

Reaching up, you cupped his face in your hands. You leaned up, face drawing closer to his. “But I already accepted your apology, love,” you cooed, smiling. “You know what I think?” You slowly dragged your tongue across his tear tracks, your body flushing with heat at the taste of the bitter salt. “I think,” you murmured against his jaw, “that I like seeing you cry.”

Jesse’s breath hitched on a sob, more tears spilling down his cheeks. It was fairly intoxicating, seeing the giant man completely fall apart under you, trapped between his desperation and his personal standards. When you slid forward, your body pressing flush against him, another sob wrenched from his gritted teeth.

You decided for the moment to have a bit of mercy. Reaching down, you grasped his wrists and lifted his hands to your waist. His fingers instantly clenched in the silk babydoll dress, shaking as he grabbed at your waist. His entire body lurched forwards towards you, eyes fixed on your face.

You hummed softly, brushing a kiss to his jaw. “Your eyes are so pretty when they’re filled with tears, Jesse,” you purred, drawing his face closer to you. Still, you refused to kiss him, instead trailing your lips down his jaw, down to his throat. You opened your mouth against his neck, savoring the taste of his skin and the soft scent of his cologne.

Jesse’s trembling fingers jerked against your waist, and he slumped into you. His hands slid over your waist to your lower back, his touch practically reverent as he squeezed. His breaths came quick and fast, breaking occasionally on a sob. Every time you suckled or moved your lips, every time your hands slid down his shoulders, he gasped and shuddered, more tears dripping down his cheeks.

You slid your hands down, starting to unbutton his shirt. Your tongue dragged across his neck, and you felt the bulge in his pants throb against your thigh. “Isn’t this punishment fair, darling?” you cooed. “I only ask for a few tears, hmm? A front row seat to your pretty eyes?”

His head jerked, even though it wrenched another tortured sob from him. Despite the contact, you could feel his frustration mounting.

You pulled back, looking up at him as you finished unbuttoning his shirt. “Oh, you don’t think so?” Your fingers slid across his bared chest, feeling the heat radiating from his skin. “But isn’t this what you wanted? Me, paying attention to you?”

His gasps had turned ragged. His hips jerked, rutting up against your thigh. A strangled noise left his throat, his eyes squeezing shut. His grip on your waist threatened to leave fingerprints against your skin.

“No?” You bit your lip, raking your nails lightly against his chest. “Then what is it you want, hmm?”

His eyes flickered down to your lips, unconsciously licking his own. His fingers clenching, he pulled you down to grind against his cock, straining in his trousers. Pants fell from his mouth, and he kept glancing from your eyes to your lips.

You reached down, teasingly trailing your fingers down his chest and stomach. Unzipping his trousers, you looked up at his face and smiled as you traced one fingertip down the bulge in his underwear. His eyes fairly rolled back in his head, more tears streaming down his face afresh.

“Look at you, already such a mess,” you murmured, sliding your fingers into his underwear. The moment you wrapped a hand around his cock and slid up, you were rewarded with a guttural groan. He gritted his teeth, clearly struggling to stay still. With a soft laugh, you leaned up and brushed a kiss to his ear.

You tugged at his collar. “Why don’t you lie down for me?” you murmured.

He immediately complied, his hands still clamped around your waist as he turned and shifted up, lying down on the couch. He stared up at you, face still twisted in agony and desperation.

Lifting yourself a little, you tilted your head at him. “Take your pants off for me?”

He practically kicked his pants and underwear off in his haste. You guided one of his hands to the latch on the side of your own panties, giving him an amused smile and nod. His trembling fingers unlatched them, his chest heaving as he watched the black silk slide away from your skin. The moment you lowered back down onto him, his cock throbbed against you and his back arched.

Leaning forward, you hummed a pressed a kiss to his jaw. “Jesse, love,” you murmured. “Cry for me a little more?” You cupped his face in your hands, feeling your wetness coat his own length as you ground against his tip. But you deliberately kept shifting, not giving him any steady pressure.

Another broken whine came from him, and a few more tears slipped down his cheeks. Frustration scrunched his face, his neck mottled with red and flushing down to his shoulders and chest, making your white nail marks stand out. His hips jerked, his eyes squeezing shut for a moment.

“Is this what you want?” You pressed down against him again, feeling his cock slip against your wet folds teasingly.

His head jerked in a nod, almost violently. Tremors kept running through his arms, his body occasionally shuddering under you.

You leaned down and sucked his lower lip between yours. Your teeth nipped at his lip, and you finally slanted your mouth over his. Tears poured afresh down his cheeks as he desperately pulled at you, trying to get closer, kiss you more. You relented and let him, thumbs brushing against his jaw as you hummed softly into his frantic, pleading kisses. Without warning, you slipped your tongue between his lips, feeling his mouth part with alacrity. When you finally parted, his green eyes were glazed over with tears, hazily staring at you.

Then you smiled at him slyly. “I think you’ve deserved a little bit more,” you decided.

The moment you slid his tip into you, he choked. Saliva dribbled from the corners of his mouth as he squeezed his eyes shut, struggling for breath. His entire body froze, humming taut under you and his eyes sightlessly staring up at the ceiling.

You observed his wrecked expression, licking your lips with satisfaction. Rarely did Jesse ever fully submit to you like this, usually a brat. But tonight, you had absolute and utter control, and you intended to milk every last ounce of satisfaction out of it. The memories would fuel you for years of his utterly ruined expression, tears slipping down his cheeks as he drooled uncontrollably.

“So pretty, darling,” you purred, licking the tears from his cheek. You gave him another kiss, letting his hands wander over your waist and up your front. “So good for me. Do you think you can handle more?”

His eyes widened, breath quickening. He glanced down, then shook his head jerkily. Then nodded. Then shook his head.

You tilted your head. “Hmmm.” A wicked grin crossed your lips. “No? Oh, but I think you can,” your said, just as you lifted yourself and fully sheathed him inside you.

Jesse sobbed. His mouth opened, tongue lolling as he gasped. Tears poured down his cheeks from the mingled pleasurable pain and relief. His cock throbbed inside you, and his hands grasped desperately at your thighs. His entire body started to shake, arching.

You barely gave him time to adjust before you were already bouncing on him, hands braced against the back of the couch. Laughter spilled from your lips, delighted and cruel, as his hands scrabbled against your thighs, raking across your skin. Moans kept being torn from his throat, your name framed on his lips.

As soon as you angled your hips and brought your fingers down to ring tight circles on your clit, you hissed in pleasure. You pulsed around his cock, earning another helpless sob and wave of tears. He just hit that one spot inside you perfectly, again and again, until you bit your lip and moaned his name as you came around him. Your body clenched down on him, even as you kept fucking yourself through your orgasm.

More laughter spilled from your lips. “Are you gonna cum for me, Jesse, my pretty darling?” you asked breathlessly, purposely moaning his name. “Gonna cum inside me?”

The only warning you got from Jesse was another sob and the gritting of his teeth. His hands flew to your hips, slamming you down on him one more time before holding you there with an iron grip. Gasps tore from his mouth, his eyes trying to blink away tears as he stared up at you.

You hummed, caressing his hands and arms as you bit your lip in satisfaction. He kept pouring into you, his hips jerking once in a while and wringing a whimper from him. Finally, you leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. His lips parted under yours weakly, chest heaving under your hands.

“Thank you, Jesse,” you cooed sweetly between kisses. “You’re so good to me, make me feel so good.” Your mind fuzzed with the pleasure of both your high and the sight of his tears.

He pushed up against you, kissing you fervently. Though he didn’t say a word, you could feel his thoughts through his drugged, sloppy kiss.

You giggled, teasingly clenching down on him one more time and earning a jerk and grunt. “And I forgive you. But don’t do it again, okay?”

Jesse’s calculating look as he clearly weighed the consequences made you roll your eyes but laugh. Maybe this one would turn out to backfire against you, next time.

You decided it was worth it.

#elysiadjarinkinktober #elysiadjarin #mywriting #my writing #kinktober #smut #nsft #x reader #slashers #slasher x reader #chromeskull #jesse x reader #chromeskull x reader #Yandere reader #yandere #jesse Cromeans x reader #x you #slasher #My fic #fanfic

[chokemeanakin]

Cruel Intentions - Anakin Skywalker x fem Reader (smut)

Masterlist

WC: 6.8k

Summary: It’s Life Day but Anakin is mad and he’s got a dirty fucking mouth

WARNINGS: 18+, some mean talk but it’s not really degrading, oral (m) receiving, p in v, holiday fun?

(a.n. plz, plz, pretty plz get Anakins voice in your head when you read this. watch a video of hayden stuttering his way through an interview or something, whatever, it just wont be the same unless you get his voice saying all this. anyway, continue. and merry christmas/happy holidays).

(Gif from @madeleineengland )

You had always loved Life Day, but this one in particular was going to be something special. Anakin scored time off from the war, and through the help of Padme, you got one of her lakeside Naboo houses all to yourselves for the holiday. 

You arrived before Anakin, as he was finishing up a meeting with the Jedi Council, and passed the time by making cookies. You were having a pretty good time at it too— your hair was up, music blasting, candles lit, and half a glass of wine was slowly disappearing as you danced around the kitchen. Then you heard the door jiggle and open, and a gust of cold air from around the corner signaled that Anakin was here. 

Right away, you could tell he was mad. He walked through the door with a scowl, face drawn in irritation, yanking his robe off and shaking the snow out of his hair. He threw his robe up on the hanger and nudged the door shut with his elbow. He didn’t even take his boots off as he came into the kitchen, still in full uniform.

You considered asking him what the mood was for, but in all honesty, you were afraid of his reaction. Usually he either deflects or gets mad back, and you really don’t want to fight. 

But he was silent as he prowled around the kitchen, taking in your activities, and you wanted to know what was bothering him on Life Day’s Eve of all days. If you could make it better, you’d try. So you softened your voice, and in your warmest, most innocent tone, you tried, “Hi, Anakin, I miss you! I’m making cookies if you want to stay here and help. Or just sit and watch. I don’t mind.”

You thought you’d start off simple. Get him to relax a bit, and then dig into what the issue was. He stood by the doorway, arms crossed, raising an eyebrow.

“You’re not mad that I’m late?” 

He thought you were mad? You were too tipsy to be mad. Honestly, you hadn’t even been keeping track of the time.

“Of course not! You had a council meeting, that’s important. I’m just glad to have you now,” you shot him your brightest grin. “Besides, we have all week to ourselves.”

At that, his shoulders loosened and he smiled a little back at you. It disappeared quickly, but his affections were replaced with two strong arms winding around your waist, one warm and one metal. He huffed lightly and rested his chin on your shoulder, watching you mix the icing in your bowl.

His demeanor was slightly better than you had previously perceived, so you decided to risk it.

“...Did something happen?”

“Just the same old,” he mumbled, nuzzling his face into your neck. It’s cold from the snowflakes still wetting his hair, and you shivered. “The council doesn’t trust me, they still won’t consider making me a master. Windu thinks I shouldn’t even be on the council.” 

You struggled to find words to this. You wanted to take his side, and tell him he deserved to have it all. At the same time, the council was full of old and wise members, and they knew what they’re doing. But you hated how much it was bothering Anakin, hated how under all that anger there was hurt, and a fear that he wasn’t good enough. The council was making him doubt himself, and it you wouldn’t have that.

“It’ll all come in due time, I’m sure of it,” you tell him. “Whether they like it or not, you’re on the council for a reason. You belong there, and I’m sure if you give it a littlest more time they’ll come around to seeing how you deserve the title of master. Besides,” you twist around in his arms enough to skim your lips across his jawbone, pressing a lingering kiss into his neck. “I can call you Master whenever you’d like.”  

This made Anakin freeze, and then begin to laugh. His low chuckles vibrated your body, and you couldn’t help but join in with him.

“I might have to take you up on that offer sometime.”

Your stomach clenched at the insinuation, heat pulsing through your veins. That was one of your goals for the night, admittedly— to be with Anakin. You had a little surprise for him as well, and you were just hoping he wouldn’t be too disgruntled or worked up to appreciate it. That being said... sometimes it was a good thing when he was frustrated.

Anakin sacrificed a hand to reach forward and dip into the bowl, scooping a dollop of blue icing out and placing it in his mouth. You heard him suck it off his finger, beating the dirty thoughts back with a stick. 

“Is it good?” You ask to distract yourself.

“Here, try.” 

You turn, expecting him to offer you a finger with some icing on it but instead he kisses you. Immediately your mouth is flooded with the sugary blue that stains his lips. You open your mouth, tongue tasting his, and he’s sweet. Your cheeks are burning bright as he kisses you, slow and deep and dirty, and it’s such a 360 from the lighthearted atmosphere you’ve created.

When you pulled back, you’re breathing hard, mouth tingling, licking your lips for the remnants of sweet icing. Anakin smiled down at you, eyes dark, and went back to resting his head on your neck, whispering in your ear in a low, rumbling voice. “Finish up. There’s other plans I want to get to.” 

•••

Anakin ended up having to leave again as you were icing the cookies to take one last impromptu call from Obi-Wan, just some last minute tying-loose-ends before his short break. He also took the chance to get out of his Jedi clothes, trading the leather armor and robes for more comfortable sleep clothes— which included loose fitting pants that hung low on his hips, and that damned sleep robe he wears without a shirt.

He came back into the kitchen just as you were finishing up, and you almost choked when you saw him.

“Aren’t you cold? It’s snowing pretty heavily out there and you’re not even wearing a shirt.” 

“I’ve got a fire going in the master bedroom, it should warm the place up soon,” he took some of your dirty dishes to the sink. “Why, do you not like it?”

“No, I—“ you stutter. It’s just the opposite. He’s beautiful beyond words. “I just didn’t want you to be cold.”

“I’m alright,” he smiled at you teasingly, reaching around you to grab the last of the dishes. 

Once they’re in the sink, he found you climbing up onto the counter, putting the spices away that were, of course, in the highest cabinet out of reach. You stretched up to reach it, unashamedly putting on a little show for Anakin as you exaggerate the curve of your backside. 

The action caused the holiday shorts you’re wearing to ride up, exposing the fleshy underside of your behind. You turned around to find him watching you, not even trying to hide it. He leaned back on the counter, arms crossed over his bare chest, eyes thoughtful as he took in the sight.

“Help me down?” You asked him, and he immediately pushes himself off the counter to fit his hands around your waist, lowering you safely to the ground. He held onto you a little too tight for it to be innocent, and you could feel him gravitating toward you, leaning in to start something you wouldn’t be able to stop. You pull away— you're not done with him, in fact your teasing has just begun.

Anakin huffed quietly to himself as you moved around him to start the warm water, soaking the dishes in it so the batter won’t stick overnight. You purposefully shot some water onto your shirt so that you had to gather a wad of paper towels in your hand and dab at your chest, pulling your shirt down so you could get at the wet spots. Anakin rolled his eyes as you grumbled about how clumsy you were, but you could see he was discreetly trying to look.

His resolve was already thin when he walked through the door. He hadn’t been able to have you in far too long, and he was planning on doing something about that tonight. He wasn’t sure what page you were on, though…. You seemed pretty content with baking cookies and then watching movies all night like you had mentioned in the days leading up, so your little teasing games were doing nothing to quell his curious anticipation.

You didn’t even have to try to get him all worked up. The spice cabinet, the wet shirt, those weren’t needed. It was like you didn’t even realize the effect you had on him— every little move you made around the kitchen, every little sigh or gasp or giggle, even the way you bent down to take the damn cookies out of the oven had him yearning for you. 

The last straw was when you needed a rag to clean the countertop, so you reached across his lap where he was sitting to grab it. You placed a not-so-innocent hand on his thigh to steady yourself, brushing against his chest as you did so. He was immediately enveloped in your smell, and the feel of your soft hair against his chest, your hand on his thigh— he needed to have you, now. 

“Y/n, forget the cookies,” he demanded.

“Oh?”

“Let’s go upstairs.”

•••

Your tongues clashed, teeth nipping, breaths gasping for air as you struggled to get closer to one another. All of Anakin’s anger and frustration was pouring out him in bruising kisses, fast and wet and greedy. You were combatting it with your own dirty, lustful responses. It was one of your favorite things to feel so needed by him, even if he was projecting his emotions from the day onto you. You were his outlet, the only thing that could help him, and you would gladly take these punishing kisses for as long as he needed.

The hand that wasn’t threaded through your hair exploded the rest of your body, fitting into each and every curve, squeezing at certain places and pulling you closer, adjusting you on his lap. He slipped his fingers beneath the neckline of your shirt, pulling it to the side so he could suck at the pulse in your neck, when he caught a flash of red.

His eyes darkened, lips twisting into a smirk as he traced the lacey garment. Suddenly his hands were gone, and he was leaning back away from you. “Show it to me.”

 So you stood before him and undressed, feeling small under his steady gaze. It was loaded with heat, and you could practically read his mind as each new strip of skin and the lacy red underwear you had worn specially for this occasion was revealed. He was planning everything he wanted to do to you, drinking you in, and storing away the sight into his memory for later times, when he’s on the battlefield and it’s been months and he misses you. But for now though, his present was waiting for him.

The look of him illuminated by the firelight, eyes scorching as he studied every inch of you had you squirming under his gaze. He leaned back in the loveseat, arrogant posture annoyingly sexy with the way his broad shoulders filled out the chair, long legs spreading before him. 

You needed to touch him. He wasn’t saying anything, or doing anything, so you approached him and settled yourself back on his lap, meaning to restart where you had left off. You trailed your hand down the smooth, hard planes of his body, feeling the ridges of his abs, the soft skin smooth and warm. He kept his arms slung lazily over the armrests, refraining from touching you, but you could feel the steady pulse of his eyes as he watched your every move. 

Those deep, calculating eyes. They made you nervous, but you’d be lying if you said the intimidation didn’t turn you on. 

He let you tangle one of your hands in his hair, feeling the soft curls glide between your fingers as you looked over him. But just as your palm slid near the band of his pants, he caught your wrist in his metal hand and stopped you.

“Get on the bed,” he flicked his eyes behind you, a cocky, mischievous glint in them. He knew you’ll do anything he said, with that voice. 

Hesitantly, you stood from his lap and made your way over to the bed. Your skin was raised with goosebumps, as you knew he was studying your every move. You sat on the plush mattress of the bed, crossing your legs over the knee, and looked at him. He was blanketed in shadows, but stared right back. 

“Spread your legs.” 

Your face immediately heated up in flames. He had always been the one to do that to you, with his hands, and pressed right up close to you. Somehow, having him sit across from you on the armchair and watching you from a distance was even more intimate.

He was waiting, though, so you did as he said. You already felt exposed under his greedy gaze, mesmerized by his beauty and the way the flames flickered off the sharp line of his jaw, the peak of his cheekbone. This dark angel was toying with you, teasing you, and you just wanted him to come over here and touch you. But he remained in that seat, head cocked as he looked you up and down.

“Eyes on me,” he demanded softly, cruelly. You had downcast your eyes, afraid to look at him without losing your confidence. The low tone of his voice left no room for debate, so you did as he said. 

Your stomach churned, heart fluttering as he leveled his gaze at you. He was studying every inch of your lewd pose, smug with himself. He wasn’t even even near you, but he had all the control, and he knew it. 

“Now let me see that pretty pussy.” 

Your breathing stopped. His voice is quiet, yet commanding all the same, and you forgot how dirty his mouth could be. It shocked you more than anything, which is why you hesitated.

“What, are you getting shy on me? That’s not what it seemed like in the kitchen,” he mused. “You wanted me to see you. Now, let me see you.” 

The words rang out in the air, causing heat to build up in your core and leak out onto your underwear. Swallowing your slight embarrassment, you hooked your finger around the front of your panties and pulled them to the side, exposing yourself to him. 

Anakin’s gaze darkened, and he sat up. He rested his elbows on his knees, covering his mouth in his hands as he appreciated the view. You squirmed under his gaze, waiting for him to tell you what to do next as you felt cold air hit your glistening folds.

“Look at you,” he purred. “Already soaking wet, and I haven’t even touched you.” 

You shrank away from his eyes, not having anything to say to defend yourself. The fire crackled but you shivered, his shadow looming over you, and you just wanted his warmth pressed against you, his hands on you, pulling that pleasure from the depths of your body. He knew how to do it just right, and you’d never been able to make yourself feel as good as he does. And now he’s right here, but he’s holding himself away from you. Shifting your hips in desperation, you whined and pulled at your panties, rubbing some friction against your throbbing clit.

“Stop. Don’t touch yourself,” Anakin ordered. His eyes were still lidded, voice sharp. You let go of your panties and dropped your hands to the side, holding yourself up on your elbows. Your legs were still splayed open, the sight of your panties soaking through put on display before Anakin.

“Please, Anakin,” you shifted your hips again, hoping it would provide some relief but finding none. “I need you.”

Anakin tsked at this but stood to his full, domineering height. You craned your neck to watch him as he stood over you, capturing your chin between his metal fingers and forcing you to look him in the eye, the other fitting itself on the soft flesh of your thigh. You keened into the soft touch, nerves lighting off like fireworks. 

“You need me?” He taunted, blue eyes digging into yours. “Or does your greedy little cunt need me?” 

You gasped at his words. Never had he called you something degrading before, like greedy. You’re pretty sure you’ve never heard the word “cunt” leave his mouth before either, but it spilled from his lips like red wine, smooth and dark. Anakin had always been so soft with you, so loving, and his statement shocked you. 

“Hm?” He goaded. “Answer me, sweetheart.”

He shifted his hands up your thigh, sneaking over your pelvis and landing on your mound. He let his thumb graze over your clit, unmoving.

Sparks erupted behind your eyes, and you leaned into his touch. An invisible force held your hips to the bed, stopping you from chasing your own pleasure as he continued with his words.

“Do you want me to fuck you open slowly on my cock? You want me to fill your tight little pussy until you can’t take anymore?” 

The weight of his thumb on your clit was distracting. It throbbed under his touch with every measured, vulgar word, and his mouth twitched as he felt it. “I think I just got my answer.” 

At this, he got on his knees before you. He lowered his mouth to trace his lips against the inside of your thighs, and you squirmed between the tickling sensation and the need to have his mouth on you. He gripped your hips in his strong hold, hard, mumbling into the soft flesh of your inner thighs. “You can’t seem to sit still today....” he sucked a bruising kiss into your thigh, and when you roll your hips into the feeling, he looked at you sharply.

“Behave.”

You flinched at his tone. It was deep, threatening, and pulsing with irritation. Was he angry at you? Your eyes stung, shrinking away from his narrowed gaze again, wandering if you did something to make him unhappy with you.

He lowered his head back to your thighs, purposefully skipping over the part that was throbbing for him, dripping for him. You held your breath, desperately trying to hold yourself back from moving or even making a sound, too afraid that you would anger him further. But his thumb pressed a little harder into your clit, and you fell back against the mattress, whimpering frustratedly. 

To your relief, he didn’t get mad at you. Instead he hooked his finger around your underwear, similar to how you did earlier so he could gage your response to his actions. The low hum he let out was pleased. “Such a pretty little pussy... dripping wet... is that all for me?” 

He was still toying with you, still teasing, and at this point it was getting painful. You would do anything to have his fingers on you, mouth on you, anything in you. So you nodded, and you told him it was all for him, everything was for him. He licked a single line up your slit, the tip of his tongue just barely grazing you. The sensation sent fully body shivers across your skin, and you melted into the bed, ready to lose yourself in the pleasure. He covered you again with the now drenched material.

Did you say something wrong?

“Show me how much you want me then.” 

You were shaking as he released his hold on you, head fuzzy with arousal, cheeks flushed with confusion. What game was he playing?

You swallow your nerves and stand from the bed, feeling so small even as you stood over him. He was kneeling, looking up at you under dark lids, daring you to do something. He was giving you some control, so you decided you’d try to get your sweet Ani back, to soften the energy in the room so he could be happy and playful like he usually was.

He sized you up quizzically as you wrapped your arms around his neck, one hand curling into his hair like before. You tilted his head up so you could lean down and plant a gentle kiss to his forehead, hugging his face into your chest. 

Your body shook as he laughed, dark and mocking underneath you. You pulled back to look at him. “Anakin?”

“If you want me to fuck you, sweetheart, you’re going to have to try harder than that.” 

That’s it. 

You just wanted to get fucked, and he just wanted to tease you. If he wanted you to come to him, then fine. So be it. 

Anger bloomed from the pit of your stomach and you pushed at his chest to get him onto the bed. He did so, at his own leisurely pace, pissing you off further with the smug smirk still on his face. You kissed it off of him, biting his lip in punishment and yanking his hair a little too hard in your fist. He groaned like he liked it, so release him and trail you kisses downward, biting and marking up his body until you get to his pants. You pulled back the waistband and revealed him to you, taking him in your grasp. Any normal man would be frightened of an angry girl with his dick in her hands, so you looked up at him, trying to see if he had been humbled by your anger yet. He was staring back at you, unimpressed.

You waste no time taking him into your mouth, sucking hard, maybe a little too hard. He sighed and leaned back, enjoying it far too much. You tried to convey your annoyance with the punishing pace you set on his cock, sliding up and down with your  mouth and hand. You grasped onto his thigh for stability, feeling the remnants of your saliva drip onto it as you gave him the sloppiest, dirtiest blowjob you’ve ever done. Halfway through, when you realize you’ve gotten little to no reaction, you peer up and see that he’s on his datapad. 

You pumped him up and down in your fist, gathering your breath as you studied him. Does it not feel good? Are you not doing a good enough job? He’s hard, so you must be doing something right. But it was like he didn’t even notice what you were doing anymore, or if he did, he didn’t care. You paused with your hand on the base of his cock, squeezing.

“Why’d you stop?” Anakin didnt’t even look up from his datapad. 

“Am… am I doing good?”

“Of course you are,” Anakin finally shifted his eyes to you, bringing a hand down to wipe some saliva off your bottom lip with his thumb. “Now finish the job.”

With this, he removed his hand and his gaze, going back to the data pad. Fueled by anger again, and a determination to make him react, you took him into your mouth harder, faster, sloppier, wetter. He didn’t even twitch, didn’t even moan or bury his hands in your hair or tell you how good it felt like he normally does.

You wrapped your lips around his tip and sucked extra hard, tongue probing into the skin there and swirling in a circle, over and over. There. He gave an appreciative hum. You thought you’ve finally got him where you wanted when he says, 

“That the best you can do?”

You whined around him frustratedly, just wanting him to feel something, wanting him to feel good, wanting him to feel that way because of you. But he was bored, you could tell by the way he didn’t even spare you a second glance as you took him all the way into the back of your throat, holding him there for longer than you ever have. You were trying your best for him, and usually he’d be writhing and moaning beneath you, but now...

He laughed, pulling you off of him with both hands to halt your frenzied movements. 

“Anakin,” your eyes shone with confused tears. 

“Shhh, baby, none of that,” his voice was sweet again, and he stroked the skin of your cheek as he brought your face to his for a gentle kiss. “Come, sit on my lap.”

You were giving up on trying to figure him out. One minute he was so sweet, the next he was uncharacteristically callous. Your eyes burned in embarrassment, feeling like you’ve failed him as you crawled onto his lap. He positioned you on his thighs, keeping yours spread with his. An arm wrapped around your shoulders, locking you to his hard chest as the other snuck down your body, touching you over your panties.

“Is this what you wanted?” goosebumps erupted all over your body as you felt his lips ghost over your ear. “You wanted me to make you feel good?”

He rubbed gentle circles into your clit with his fingers, allowing you to shift your hips in time with it. For a moment, you forgot about your problems and lost yourself in the way he was rubbing you. You moaned as he played with your clit, more slick gushing out and further drenching your panties. 

“Even though you couldn’t make me feel good?”

Your breath caught in your throat, embarrassment bubbling up in your chest. You were ashamed, accepting this pleasure from him when you gave him nothing in return.

“I can try again,” you offered, hips halting. You didn’t want anything else from him until you could give it back, but he slipped his hands beneath your underwear and touched you directly, rubbing you at a fast pace. Your head fell back against his shoulders, legs opening wider on their own accord as your orgasm built up in time with his hand. You couldn’t help but accept the pleasure, forced to feel it as he held you in his iron grasp.

“Anakin.. Anakin please,” you begged. “Let me make you feel good, too.”

“Baby, you already tried,” he nippd at your ear, voice cruel. 

“I can try harder, Ani— please!” Your voice came out in a shout as your orgasm approached. Before you could finish, he stopped rubbing and kept his fingers on your clit, pressing down, feeling you throb beneath him. 

You could feel your slick dripping down your thighs. Your panties were uncomfortably wet, but your arms were trapped under his and you couldn’t reach down to remove them. He seemed to read your mind.

“Let’s get these off you now, hm? You’re soaking through them, I can feel it on my leg.” 

Of course, he ignores your pleas and shifted the focus to drag your panties down your leg. He was right— you’ve made a mess of his leg, but now that you’re sitting directly on him, it’s even worse. He parted your folds with his hand, middle finger dragging up and down your slit, collecting the glistening fluid. A little hint of satisfaction soothed your worries as you felt his cock twitch beneath you at the sight. 

“You always knew how to take my fingers so well,” he whispered in your ear, pushing his finger into you as he does so. You accepted him readily, walls fluttering around his finger as it relieved some of the ache. You wanted to come, but you couldn’t— not without feeling guilty, for neglecting his needs. How could you be so selfish and take all the pleasure for yourself?

“Anakin,” you whined again, trying to get his attention. You purposefully shifted your hips in a way that would rub against him, but only succeeded in pushing his finger deeper into you. “Anakin please, let me… speak… hmng… I can’t focus…”

“Speak,” he kissed your neck, pushing another finger into you despite your warnings. “I’m listening.”

“I want to make you feel good,” you moaned. His fingers stroked into you slow, deep, and perfect. You gushed around his digits, the sound of it absolutely sinful. He kissed the back of your neck as his thumb began to rub your clit again, gently because he knew how close you were to cumming. “Anakin, please.”

“I know, baby.”

No, he didn’t. He wasn’t getting it. Your hands dug into his thighs, wanting him to stop, wanting him to continue—

“I love you. Please, let me—“

“Enough.”

You gasped, bones turning to putty in his hands. He kept sliding his fingers into you, thumb grazing your clit, but you were so ashamed. He just yelled at you, he’s never done that before. And now you didn’t know how to act, how to feel. 

“Aw, baby, did I scare you?” He taunted, curling his fingers into you. “Did I hurt your feelings?”

The sting of his words brought tears to your eyes, but it was battled by your pleasured haze, vision spotting and feeling honing down to the push and pull of his fingers. There were too many emotions swirling inside you that you didn’t know what to say anymore. All you knew was that you were close to cumming again, you have been for a while, but you weren’t sure if you should accept it.

Your walls pulsed around him and he pulled his touch away, denying you of the orgasm as he spread the slick down your thigh. He reached for his dick, gliding it up and down your folds, covering it in your arousal. He was hot and wet and stiff against you, and you bore down, wanting him inside you. For once, he gave you what you wanted, and you both moaned as he began to sink into you.

The stretch was immediate, and you cried out as you took him inch by inch. He was so thick and the angle was so deep that he had to lift you up and bring you back down multiple times, opening you up gradually until he was fully buried inside you.

“Look at you, taking my cock so well,” he praised, kissing up your neck, along your cheek. He twisted a hand into your hair, tugging it back so he could suck at the sensitive skin of your neck. Your walls clenched around him at the pleasurable sensation, punching an unexpected moan from him.

“Fuck me,” he hissed, sounding like your Ani again for just a moment. 

Your chest swelled with pride. Finally, you were making him feel good. You clenched around him again, shifting your hips, searching for another reaction.

“Y/n, shit—“

“I know what your problem is,” you chanced, realizing you had the upper hand for now. “You’re still— fuck— you’re still mad about the Council.”

Anakin glared, thrusting into you harder. 

“That’s why you’re— hnng— that’s why you’re hate-fucking me.”

“I’m not hate-fucking you.”

“This certainly isn’t love-fucking.”

“Would you just shut up and take my cock already?”

He plunged into you hard and deep, stretching you open so good that you momentarily lost your train of thought. Did he just yell at you again?

“This isn’t— this isn’t fair,” you moaned, loving the feel of his length scraping against your walls . “You don’t get to boss me around like this.”

“Oh yeah?” He raised his eyebrows at you, fist tightening into your hair so that you couldn’t look away. “That’s not what it seemed like a few moments ago.”

“I just wanted to make you feel good,” you slammed down onto his cock, anger winning out against everything else. You had one goal in mind now— if you could make him cum before you, it would even out the playing field.

He caught on to what you were planning immediately, flipping you over so he was fully in control. He grasped your hips, lifting them off the bed so he could drill into you at an angle, hitting the spot that had you arching off the bed and calling his name in a moment of weakness. Your pleasure heightened as he rolled his pelvis against yours, your clit rubbing against him. 

“Fuck you,” you moaned, clawing at the bedsheets.

“Currently doing that,” he gasped.

Oh, he was so going to get it.

You reached up, grabbing at his shoulders to pull him down to your level. He was stronger than you and could have resisted, but he gave in, thinking you were about to cum and just needed him close. He wasn’t entirely wrong— with each roll of his hips, his length probed deep inside you, causing your vision to white out. You could barely keep track of your thoughts as you squirmed beneath him. He held you down, completely negating your ability to try and flip him over. 

What had you been thinking? You had just been trying to get the high ground, but now you were so close— so close— to cumming. Think of something gross. Wet socks? Burnt cookies? Jar-Jar? 

Nothing seemed to be working. Soon, you didn’t want it to work. You cried out with each thrust of his hips, eyes rolling back into your head from the pleasure. Your pussy drooled around his cock, slick making a mess of both of your thighs. The slide of him was so hot, so wet, so good— 

“Stop!” 

You couldn’t think of any other way. Anakin immediately stopped his thrusts, pulling back to study your face in a panic.

“What? What happened? Are you okay?”

You bit your lip hard, heart pounding and walls pulsing around his cock from your denied orgasm. You squeezed your eyes closed, waiting for the heat to dissipate from your stomach before you pushed yourself to a sitting position. 

He gave you room to do so, the worry still clear in his eyes. 

“I’m completely fine,” you kissed his cheek, laughing deviously. “I just wanted to be on top.”

Anakin frowned at you, but switched positions anyway. “That’s not funny. I thought I hurt you.” 

“So you do care.”

“Of course I care,” he grabbed the finger that you had been jabbing into his chest, kissing your palm before wrapping it around his neck. “The last thing I want to do is hurt you.”

“You yelled at me,” you lifted yourself off his lap slowly, relishing in the drag of his of cock inside you. You sunk down again, shivering at the sensation.

“I didn’t know you were that sensitive.” 

“Well… when it’s you…” you moaned suddenly, his dick pulsing into you at a delicious angle. “I just don’t like when you’re mad at me.”

“Then you should behave better next time,” he nipped the words into your collarbone, almost purring again.

“See, that’s not fair—“

“Do you need me to fuck some sense into you?” His gaze was firm, completely serious. Your knees weakened around his waist at the tone, wandering why you found that so damn attractive. He tilted his head at you when you didn’t answer. “Is that a yes?” 

“Anakin—“ your cries took you by surprise as he slid his hands down to your ass, clutching your flesh in each hand and spreading you open so he could fuck up into you, hard. Your nails dug into his shoulders, body bouncing as he bore into your aching hole. 

There was no way you were going to last now, not with the way he was making you feel. You had held your orgasm back for so long, and while it would have been nice to make Anakin cum before you, to give him a taste of his own medicine, you were completely at his mercy. 

“Cum for me, and then we’ll talk,” he appeased, voice dark. Why was that hot? Warmth blossomed in your stomach and you listened to his ragged breathing in your ear, body tingling, pussy tightening around him. He turned your face to him with a hand in your hair, holding you close as filthy words spilled from his mouth.

“Take my cock, baby. That’s it, fuck me, come on,” he chanted against your lips. Always so demanding. You couldn’t hold back your moans as he plunged into you over and over, right into that one spot, the heat in your belly expanding until it took over each of your senses. He fucked you at a rapid pace, hips slamming into yours, fingers bruising your ass. Your walls quivered around him, the ball in your stomach snapping. Suddenly, you were coming all over him, pussy throbbing as he massaged his dick into you in wave-like motions, working you through it. 

“Does that feel good?” He teased, lips tracing softly over your cheek, soothing hands rubbing your shaking thighs. He was being sweet again— another 360 change in demeanor. 

You responded with broken whimpers, muscles twitching as you rode out your high. When he finally stopped, you sucked in a deep breath, shivering from the aftershocks.

“Mmm, I fucked you good, didn’t I?” He planted soft kisses under your ear, down your neck, and over your shoulder. Now he was back to taunting you, his words cruel, but voice so sweet. “Your sweet little pussy just came all over my cock. So pretty. You wanted it so bad, didn’t you? Even though you don’t want to admit it?”

He was like a snake-charmer, hypnotizing you with every slow, filthy word. You knew what he was doing, but at the same time, you couldn’t stop your body’s reaction to it. Every syllable had you melting into his lap, his hands rubbing the flesh of your hips softly. 

“Are you blushing again?” He dragged his cock out of you, and you whimpered at the sensation of it against your overstimulated walls. “Don’t tell me you’re shy, now. Not after what we just did.” 

“I’m not shy—“ Force, you couldn’t focus when he looked at you like that, when he purred in your ear like that. 

“No?” He pushed back into you. “Then look at me when I’m speaking to you.”

You lifted your head to meet his gaze, eyelashes sticking together with moisture. His full lips pulled into a smirk, dewy skin glowing in the firelight. 

“Does this pretty little pussy want to cum on my cock again?” He pulled your hips flush against his, so deep, so thick inside of you. You mewled, blood heating up in your veins.

“Please,” you gave in, allowing him to massage his cock into your walls. 

“Please, what?”

You would get him back for this later. For now, the hot slide of his cock inside of you was too good, too overwhelming. 

“Please, make me cum,” you didn’t think your cheeks could get any redder, his eyes probing into yours as you said this. Never in a million years did he ever expect his shy little baby to say something so filthy. He immediately smirked, pressing a pleased kiss to your lips.

“Good girl.”

Your skin broke out into a hot sweat, hole pulsing around him as he began to rock back into you. His strokes were slower, deeper, pulling ecstasy from the depth of your bones. He kneaded your flesh between his fingers as he rolled his hips into you. You fell forward, moans being dragged out of your sore throat, watching his cock dissapear inside of you.

His thighs glistened with your juices, the sound of him sinking into your leaking hole humiliatingly sinful. He noticed you watching and brought a hand down, toying with your clit. He moaned into your ear as he did so, the drag of his cock becoming difficult as you squeezed around him. 

This time, your orgasm washed over you like a warm blanket, causing you to arch your body into his. You trembled as the waves of pleasure sapped you of energy, rocking your hips in time with Anakin as he spilled his warmth inside of you. The sounds of him cumming sparked a flame in your heart— you wished he had indulged you in his pleasure earlier. Now, all it left you with was a desire to hear him lose it over and over again, and you realized you had your plans all set for the rest of the night.

Anakin stroked his hand up and down your back, lips attaching to your neck as you came down from your highs. He positioned the two of you so that you were laying down, you on his chest, completely limp apart from the occasional post-orgasm shivers. He gave you time to recover before pulling out of you, kissing your quiet whimpers away as he tugged his length out of your aching hole. 

“I win,” he mumbled against your lips.

#anakin x fem reader #anakin skywalker x fem reader #anakin smut #anakin skywalker smut #anakin fic #anakin skywalker fic #star wars prequels smut #dom anakin #kinky anakin

[todomitoukei]

is dabi's burns being brought up his sore point?

That's an interesting question!

To answer this, we have to first look into where his burns came from in the first place and what their significance is.

Starting out with his backstory from chapters 301 and 302 Touya's quirk seemed quite promising so that even as a kid, his dad recognized the strength of it and was clearly building up Touya's confidence while training him - leading to Touya always being ready to learn more with a big smile on his face:

But with his hair turning white and his fire already strong, his body began to not be as compatible with his quirk as it used to be, giving him tiny burns:

These burns were only temporary, but the fact alone that his own fire could hurt him horrified him because up until then, he was confident in his ability to surpass All Might and with that, being able to become the person his father wanted and needed him to be; the only person his father could be proud of.

This small sign of weakness was the turning point for Touya and his relationship with his father, who then began to spend less time with him and only gave weak excuses as to why -

which upset Touya, of course. While we do see him yell and just look angry, it's important to keep in mind that anger is a secondary emotion and one that often occurs as a defense mechanism when someone feels weak and helpless. And considering Endvr abandoned every child that showed the slightest hint of weakness, it's likely to assume he didn't spend much time teaching Touya manners (since that would require him to have any himself) or teach him how to regulate his emotions (which we know he didn't since that is also why Touya later on almost died).

Touya also got defensive about his situation when Fuyumi voiced her concerns for him, saying that "I know my own body better than anyone" - and then leaving the room with tears streaming down his face without anyone able to see.

His whole relationship with his father was dependant on his quirk and overall strength, so constantly being burned by his own flames created a distance between him and the person he looked up to the most. He didn't want to be reminded of that, not even in the form of someone being concerned for his well-being, which would require him to acknowledge his weakness. If his father was already spending less time with him, what would happen if Touya actually admitted that he had a limit?

That is when he continued to train on his own in an attempt to prove everyone wrong and win his dad back. He denied his own weakness, even going as far as to make sure his scars wouldn't end up in visible places in hopes that no one would notice; putting on a happy facade to try and trick his dad into thinking that he had conquered his limits and was thus able to spend more time together again.

Moving forward a couple of years, we can see that this still affects him. During his fight with Geten in chapter 230 Dabi was acting his usual self, fighting normally and casually until Geten claims that only strength defines a person's worth which immediately shifts Dabi's mood to a serious, angered one, which is not only visible but also supported by his immediate response of "die already" (I'm gonna make a translation comparison for this fight soon!) -

It's also interesting to note that the reaction we get here is similar to chapter 115 when Dabi was going around to recruit people -

and upon being ugly, immediately looked angered and killed the criminals without hesitation. His expression is a lot more serious and cold and as many other people, like @transhawks in this incredible meta, have pointed out before - there is a huge emphasis on eyes in connection with the Todoroki family, especially Endvr, Dabi, and Shouto.

Fast forward even more and we get post-reveal Dabi, who is reflecting by himself, pointing out that he "can't feel anything" - something that applies to him both physically and mentally and it's not the first time he has pointed this out either.

The thing with Dabi is that he is probably the most self-aware character in the entire story. He knows his limits, he knows that his quirk is damaging him and that by over-using it, he is slowly killing himself, just as Shouto is pointing out in chapter 293 when he says "but you're burning up too" -

Dabi knows this. That's why he usually tends to end fights quickly because he doesn't have the stamina to drag fights out unnecessarily. So why does he do all of that if he is so aware of this?

The short answer: Because that's all he's got left.

Inside of him, there's still the little Touya that loves his father more than anything else and seeks his attention and approval. And Touya, who never did anything wrong, has always deserved to be loved unconditionally by his father. But instead, Endvr took everything away from Touya without allowing him to let go. Dabi's whole existence is a cry for help when no one would listen before and in addition, revenge for little Touya who didn't receive the love or help that he needed and asked for.

Bringing up his burns reminds him of everything he lost - the life he could have had that was taken away from him. It's a reminder that to the person he looked up to the most he's nothing but a failure. And even now he can't quite admit that he has a weakness and thus essentially give up. Even now he wants to impress his dad and prove him wrong.

So maybe his scars themselves aren't something he has a problem with; it's what they represent that still hurts him and will continue to hurt him until someone that isn't Touya (=Shouto) will fight for him and make sure he finally receives the help he needs.

#dabi #meta #ask #todoroki #touya

[everythingsinred]

It's surprising and curious how Mikan's words can actually hurt or affect Natsume in some way and this is 100% canon in the manga, at least it happens twice.

The first is that time at the Festival when his fans started saying bad things about Mikan and she, in a fit of fury, said that she would never ever dance with Natsume and later we can see that these words really affected him because later he didn't want to dance with her and he even went with another girl!

Natsume, the introvert who never participates in academy events or interacts with girls, this time he did it only because Mikan said she would never dance with him.

And later we have that moment in the new year, when everyone ended up stuck together because of a prank by Tsubasa, at one point Mikan without realizing it says that she likes Ruka more than Natsume and at that moment Natsume doesn't seem affected but when are they going to sleep Natsume remembers Mikan's words twice; the first time when they were entering the room and mikan was complaining and Natsume replies "I'm sorry but I'm not Ruka" and at some point I know he says "I'll return you to Ruka later"

I don't remember if there is another instance in which something similar happens but I think that the 5 of us who are still alive in the fandom don't talk enough about how Mikan's words do have an importance in Natsume and that he can really feel hurt by they. It's also funny because all these scenes occur when Natsume was in the mood of "leaving Mikan and Ruka together" and he stepped aside so those words from Mikan should have been a joy or relief for Natsume but in reality they weren't.

(and very honestly I think that as much as Natsume loved Ruka I think he would never have been able to stand him being with Mikan, I'm sorry but every time there seemed to be some 'progress' between Mikan and Ruka, Natsume never reacted well, in fact he was affected)

hi! thanks for sending a message! my reply is a bit long, so it's under the cut.

it certainly is 100% canon but i dont think it's surprising to me, considering that it's typical for someone with a crush to be particularly vulnerable to any harsh words from said crush (whether they were harsh on purpose or not).

i did discuss these instances and more in my essays bc of how interesting those scenes are from both natsume and mikan's perspective but i will always take an excuse to talk more about them!

i always thought the festival dance instance was interesting, especially when you compare the anime and manga events, bc the anime seems more like what you'd expect from natsume: after pushing ruka and mikan together, he sulks off and isnt seen again at the dance for the rest of the night until mikan finds him. the manga is interesting bc he does the opposite, at least for a little while. yes, he does still push mikan and ruka together, but instead of brooding about it by himself, he acts out of spite, dancing with every girl EXCEPT for mikan.

i love this scene for what it reveals about both of them: they're too stubborn, for their own reasons, to actually communicate their feelings of jealousy. anime!mikan asks natsume to dance but manga!mikan would never, and analyzing those differences is pretty interesting.

and for the new years chapters, he actually gets hurt by her a couple times that day. the first instance is when she asks him how many greeting cards he got, when the answer is 0 and it is technically something she could have deduced. this event is a little different than the "i prefer ruka" one because mikan is instantly berated and feels really guilty for hurting natsume. she even gifts him her mochi as an apology though actually saying the words "im sorry" is difficult for her. natsume is a lil different too, because although he's hurt in the moment, he forgives her pretty quick and is still contemplating giving her his alice stone and he even eats her mochi without receiving any real apology at first. in this case, he knows she didn't mean to hurt him and there's no ill will involved, so it's easier to move past.

the case of confirming out loud that she would rather be attached to ruka than natsume is different for a few reasons:

mikan doesn't know that natsume loves her, so even though she instantly takes it back and tries to clarify, because she knows it's a mean thing to say, she doesn't fully understand why natsume would be particularly hurt by it. i would actually argue that mikan doesn't really mean what she says here, either. she doesn't prefer ruka to natsume at all. she loves both of them (in different ways) but considering her actions up to this point, it's pretty clear she's devoted to natsume. she's just petty here because he's irritating her.

i think mikan does in some way know ruka has feelings for her, and her feelings in response are complicated. i talked a lot about why i feel this way in my essays, but the main takeaway is that, because she isn't sure how she feels about him back, she doesn't want to really confirm or deny anything. saying things like that she prefers ruka to natsume might hint at some confirmation she isn't ready to give.

natsume does get hurt here in a way he doesn't with the greeting cards because this isn't a silly misunderstanding; it's a statement of her feelings. natsume has given up from the beginning. just a few chapters earlier, he even tells ruka "i was never trying to win in the first place" because he has no future to give mikan, being in a relationship with her would put her in more danger, and he hates himself and views himself as unlovable. altogether, he has no hopes of mikan falling in love with him as opposed to ruka. HOWEVER, that doesn't mean hearing things like this doesn't hurt. he's still jealous and sad about it, and that's why he doesn't get over it quickly even when she says that's not what she meant. he stays bitter about it for a long time, because, as far as he's concerned, she told the truth.

i think, usually, natsume doesn't really get very hurt by mikan's words because he knows she's careless and talks without thinking. there's plenty of things she says in the heat of anger or without considering how her words might make someone feel, and understanding what kind of person she is means her words don't hit as hard for him. there's a few instances where she does hurt him, and those are usually related to saying how she feels out of spite. she lashes out, and he gets hurt in the process. he loves her, and nobody on the planet would feel good getting any kind of hint that the person they love doesn't feel the same way.

for me, one of the most interesting scenes in the manga is chapter 81, when natsume asks mikan if people worrying about her is a burden, and she says "yes". she doesn't say it because of luna's threats or carelessly like she might have earlier. usually mikan hurts natsume on accident, or without thinking she could hurt him, but this time she hurts him on purpose, because she's jealous. he hurt her by choosing luna's team over hers, so she hurts him on purpose by saying he's bothering her. she doesn't mean it, and she regrets saying it, but i find it so interesting that she feels so bitter about being rejected by him that she hits back.

we don't really see much of natsume's reaction to that. he's not happy, for sure, but we don't really see if that hurts more than anything else that happens to him in this arc. still, mikan's side of things gives the moment an extra layer of angst.

natsume is, i would argue, almost always team ruka, at least until the sports fest arc. he gets jealous, yes, but like i said, he doesn't consider that he could get the girl and he doesn't really aim to get the girl either, out of fear she could get hurt. he loves mikan and he loves ruka and he thinks, if they like each other, they should be together to make each other happy (because he can't). that doesn't mean he doesn't get jealous, it just means he's choosing the path that hurts him the most for the sake of others because of his martyr complex.

things start changing around the sports fest arc because he becomes increasingly less capable of resisting showing his affection toward mikan. he has been pretending to hate her for so long without ever apologizing, but this time is different. he can't do it. he has to apologize, he has to hug her, to anonymously confess to her. he can't fight it anymore. thus, his jealousy towards ruka (while never once taking the form of anger towards ruka) also becomes stronger.

natsume is fascinating because he in constant conflict between selfishness and selflessness, the conflict between choosing what will make everyone else happy and what will make him happy.

he chooses selflessness each time, even when it's hard, until mikan makes her feelings known to him. he'd already completely let go of hiding his feelings by that point because he wasn't doing any of these things for reciprocation, but just because he loves her. but when she says she loves him back, he chooses selfishness. he's still dying. a relationship would still hurt her. and he still doesn't view himself as lovable (he underestimates how much she loves him). AND YET he still kisses her and proposes.

*note that when i talk about selfishness when it comes to natsume i don't mean it in a necessarily negative way.*

as for natsume not "standing it", i'm sure he wouldn't be able to. but his poor reactions towards mikan and ruka's relationship are mostly internal, which he is willing to take, with maybe some bitterness towards mikan, which works in his favor because he's constantly trying to push her away. he doesn't WANT mikan to be with ruka, but natsume doesn't care about what he wants. what he wants is never his priority. besides, he knows his death is imminent, so at least he wouldn't have to watch mikan be with ruka for too long. he sets the stage and he puts this misery on himself because he's convinced himself everyone would be better off without him.

but that's why it's interesting when he finds out his feelings are reciprocated. he doesn't try to put ruka and mikan together anymore. even when he has ruka promise to take care of mikan for him if anything happens, he doesn't mean for ruka to be with mikan after that. after all, natsume even tells mikan "you are mine," and that he will never give her stone back to her, even if her feelings change. and then, after natsume does die, ruka confesses again to mikan and tells her he will win her over next time. i think he does this to lure natsume back to life. kinda like a "see natsume? im making moves on your girl! come back and fight for her!"

so i do agree with you that he wouldn't be able to stand it, especially after he finds out mikan loves him back. he never wants mikan with someone else, but after that point, he wouldn't be able to tolerate anybody with mikan except for him.

i really can't talk enough about natsume or mikan or their relationship which is why i've written so much about them. natsume's jealousy is so interesting to me because it's rarely as simple as "i don't like the idea of mikan being with someone else." that's definitely a factor, but it's complicated by his love for ruka as well as his own self-hatred and martyr complex. this is what makes him so different from most male leads in other romances and also what makes natsumikan so unique.

tbh i think jealousy gets a bad rep these days. people lump it in with aggression and abuse, and though jealousy can certainly play a role in those things, it's an emotion and no emotion is intrinsically bad or abusive. EVERYONE gets jealous. it's what we do with that jealousy that makes a relationship healthy or toxic. i definitely wouldn't say natsume's jealousy takes a healthy form, but he's not abusive towards mikan in that way, mainly he hurts himself. he puts himself in this situation time and time again. this struggle requires natsume to choose himself every once in a while, rather than what other MLs might need (to choose other people over themselves).

i know you didn't necessarily ask a question, but i love having discussions like this. i hope you have a lovely day!

#answered #anonymous #gakuen alice #natsumikan #ga #hyuuga natsume #ppl hate jealousy but i think they just hate normalized abusive actions justified by jealousy #same w anger. there's a difference between feeling anger from time to time and having anger issues that hurt others #but these feelings aren't necessarily good or bad. feelings don't have morality. they just are #its fun when i go somewhere and leave tumblr for a while and come back to convos like this in my inbox... a nice surprise!