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storyofmychoices · 9 months

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Shadows and Deception: Parts V & VI

[Series Masterlist] [My Choices Masterlists]

Books: The Royal Romance (post-TRF), Crimes of Passion I, Desire & Decorum, Blades of Light and Shadow I

Characters: Trystan Thorne (M, no race mentioned), Marguerite Thorne, Olivia Nevrakis, Queen Amalas, Maxwell Beaumont, Daniel, King Liam (no race mentioned), Tyril Starfury, Nia Ellarious, Prince Hamid

Pairings: Olivia Nevrakis x Queen Amalas ; M!Trystan Thorne x (no gender given) MC (mentioned) ; King Liam x Riley (mentioned)

Rating/Warnings: Teen, mentions of blood, stab wound, knives/daggers (no graphic descriptions)

Word Count: Part V: ~500; Part VI: ~1,500 : total ~2,000

Summary: The murder weapon is found and it belongs to someone we know well. Are they guilty or are they being framed?

Catch Up: [Parts I and II] [Part III and IV]

V. --- In the Ballroom with the Dagger? (Clue inspired)

Trystan's eyes widened in discovery, a smile filling his face. He had become somewhat of a well-known detective back in New York, and he was happy to see his skills weren't going to waste on this little trip. "Over here," he shouted, calling the guards toward an ornate golden curtain drawn back to the side, allowing the haunting moonlight to pour into the ballroom. "It's just there," he directed, pushing the folds of the curtain open for them to see.

"It can't be." King Liam's face drained of color.

One of the guards carefully lifted out the concealed ornate silver dagger adorned with sapphires in the hilt.

The gaze of the room fell on the scarlet-haired Duchess.

Olivia scowled, rolling her eyes at the incompetence of those around her. It had to be a replica, “a bad one at that”, she snarked. "As if anyone could lift my dagger from me." She slipped her gown up her thigh, revealing an empty slot in her thigh sheath. "I—It can't—" she stuttered for perhaps the first time in her life. "That's not possible. No one could—"

"Olivia?" Liam approached cautiously. "What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything," she scowled, still trying to assess the situation. "I would never be so sloppy as to leave the murder weapon so visibly in the open where a wannabe Sherlock Holmes could find it. How did you find it so easily?"

“Elementary,” said he with a playful wink.

Her gaze narrowed suspiciously at him before shifting back to Liam. "Trust me, if I had killed him, you'd never know."

Despite her confident tone, Olivia's thoughts wandered. That was definitely her dagger, but no one could have lifted it from her, especially without her knowledge. The moment of confusion that flickered in her eyes turned to cold calculations as she analyzed the faces of everyone around, searching for that missing piece to put the entire puzzle together. She was being framed, but whoever was careless enough to make her a suspect must know that her wrath would find them. Sunrise might not come to all.

"I need you to come with me, Olivia," Liam said solemnly. His arm extended, ushering her forward with the guard.

"Of course," her voice resolute as she continued her own investigation with each step forward. Her gaze landed on a certain fashion designer—Princess of Drakovia, Marguerite Thorne. The subtle hint of a smile on her face as she watched closely, her fingers gliding across the smooth screen of her phone with only the occasional glance down. Could the rumors be true? Olivia would find out one way or another.

What Olivia failed to notice however was that she wasn't the sole object of the Princess's observation. There was someone else—someone far more captivating. It wasn't the look she had anticipated. She expected the Spy Queen's countenance to remain inscrutable, especially at this crucial moment. Yet, Marguerite saw it in her eyes; it was a familiar expression, one she had seen before. Interesting, she mused to herself, watching as Amalas’s fingers ever so slightly caressed her clutch, watching as Liam led Olivia away. Very interesting.

VI. Put two and two together... sometimes the answer's four... and sometimes it's twenty-two. (Nick Charles)

As the investigation into the murder mystery deepened, the ballroom buzzed with whispers and hushed conversations. The air crackled with tension, each suspect under the microscope of suspicion. A trail of clues emerged, casting suspicion not only on Olivia but also on a certain Drakovia princess, no stranger to deception and spying herself, as well as to the Priestess Nia, who first discovered the body.

Tyril placed a gentle hand on Nia's shoulder, approaching from behind.

Startled momentarily, the Priestess soon relaxed upon recognizing his familiar face. "It's you," she breathed more easily.

"Nia," Tyril began in a hushed tone, "I overheard a whisper among the guards. They mentioned that a strand of red hair was found beneath the body."

Nia's eyes widened in surprise. "Do they think it's mine?" Her voice tinged with concern. She quickly tried to reconcile it. "It must have fallen out when I found Daniel."

Tyril furrowed his brow, deep in thought. "It's peculiar," he mused. "They found the hair beneath the body. It seems unlikely that it fell from you at the time of the discovery."

Nia pondered for a moment longer, her expression shifting as she reached a new conclusion. "It's possible that it happened earlier when he served me a drink. The hair could have landed on his clothing and found its way under the body."

"Perhaps," Tyril considered. "Be careful, Nia. The Duchess seems to be hinting it came from you at the time of the murder."

Nia's voice rose in her defense, "What motive could I have? I could never hurt a life! I've never even stepped on an ant before!"

Tyril pulled her to the side, quieting her once more. "I believe you, Nia," he reassured her. His voice lowered to a soothing tone. "But we must remain cautious. Someone here in the palace is responsible, and we need to find out who. Stay away from the royals for now. We know how many secrets they hold."

Nia nodded a mixture of confusion and disbelief in her eyes. "Why would Olivia insist it's my hair, though? What would she accomplish with that?"

Tyril's gaze hardened, a spark of determination igniting within him. "That is indeed the question. We will uncover the truth, Nia, no matter what it takes."

Marguerite's gaze narrowed as she approached Trystan. She wasted no time in confronting her brother about the rumor she heard. "I heard you broke into the armory. Is it true?"

Trystan's gaze met hers in amusement. "My dear sister, you confuse me with Kaspar," he replied with a smirk. "Though, I suppose then it would have been the jewel room instead. Too bad he’s banned for stealing the Cordonia Golden Apple. He would have had fun tonight.”

"This is serious, Trystan!"

"Relax, Mags. Rose may have been giving me lessons on lock picking, and I must say, I've become quite proficient. But I've not left the ballroom all night. I trust the cameras will confirm as much."

Marguerite shook her head in confusion. "Then why would someone spread such a rumor?"

Trystan's smirk widened. "Perhaps they wanted to divert our attention from something else, or somewhere else."

"What are you talking about?"

"I still have the key to the truth hidden in my pocket." He tapped his jacket, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes.

"What are you talking about?" Marguerite pressed her hands to her hips, waiting for an explanation.

Trystan fished the silver trinket from his jacket pocket, holding it up for Marguerite to see.

"What is that? What’s it for?"

Trystan shrugged nonchalantly. "No idea," he replied, flipping the key in his hand with a flourish before returning it to his pocket. "But I have a feeling it's connected to what happened tonight.”

Her curiosity turned to suspicion. "Where did you get it?"

"Someone slipped it into my pocket earlier this evening," he confessed, his voice dripping with delight.

“And you didn’t catch them? You’re slipping.”

“On the contrary, I propose they’re that good. We’re not looking for an amateur,” he revealed proudly. "And now, my dear Mags, it's up to us to unravel its secrets."

"Where do you think it leads?"

"I recently learned that the staff secures their personal possessions in lockers outside of the kitchen... care to venture on a little side quest with me?"

Her lips pressed together in a Cheshire grin as she followed behind him, making sure the flash drive she had been hiding was tucked safely in her handbag out of sight of her curious brother.

Not satisfied with the rush to judge Nia or even the Duchess, Tyril continued his own investigation. He found himself conferring with Prince Hamid, considering him a reliable source and an upstanding citizen in search of the truth. They met in a secluded corner of the ballroom, away from prying eyes and eager ears.

Prince Hamid leaned in, his voice quieting, "I overheard an interesting theory. Some believe the evidence points towards Marguerite framing both Olivia and Trystan for their respective crimes. But the question in that became, what does she stand to gain from either murder? And could she truly be cunning and ruthless enough to manipulate her brother and fellow royal as pawns to some unseen end?"

Tyril’s lips pressed together in consideration. "The evidence is light on both accounts of murder. The Princess Marguerite may have secrets to hide, but I believe them to be unrelated to these crimes."

Prince Hamid nodded, his eyes glancing across the ballroom. "I share your sentiments. I would add that I also find Trystan to be without blame in this despite the accusations of his past. Trystan played a crucial role in bringing justice to the Heartache Killer. It stands to reason that he is invested in the truth. I see no cause to suspect him in this case."

As they spoke, they noticed Trystan's return to the ballroom, his presence catching their attention. The two exchanged a meaningful glance before setting off toward him, hoping he could shed further light on the events of the evening.

The pair approached the exiled Prince, their eyes filled with anticipation and determination. Trystan, happy to formally make their acquaintance, listened with great interest to what they had observed. Tyril and Prince Hamid shared their thoughts, suspicions, and what they had overheard, hoping that Trystan would reciprocate with findings of his own.

"Not here." Trystan glanced around the room, carefully studying the locations of the cameras. After a moment of contemplation, he guided them behind a large pillar, confident that it would provide enough cover to discuss their discoveries without being noticed.

"Earlier this evening, someone slipped a key into my pocket," Trystan admitted in hushed tones. "Not long ago, I concluded it may open Daniel's locker."

"Is that from where you are returning?" Tyril asked.

"Yes."

"From the look of exhilaration in your countenance, I trust your search was fruitful," Prince Hamid posed.

Trystan smirked, carefully revealing a handful of coded correspondences.

The three men analyzed the documents hoping to find a clue.

Prince Hamid drew a page closer to his nose, recognizing a faint citrus scent emanating from the corner of the documents. "Could it be?" He hummed to himself. Acting on a hunch, he brought the bottom edge of one of the letters close to his lips and exhaled softly, applying heat to the paper.

A faint illustration of a brown squid flickered to life before their eyes, only to disappear as Prince Hamid pulled back. "Invisible ink," he concluded. “Lemon juice, most likely.”

Before they could delve deeper into their speculations as to the meaning of the latest revelation, Trystan's phone chimed with a notification, indicating that a video had finished downloading.

“Perfect timing!” He held up his phone for his newfound partners to see. "Maybe this will shed some light on the mystery," he announced with more than a hint of excitement. "I asked a friend of mine back in New York to hack into the surveillance feed for the camera closest to Daniel. Shall we put this mystery to rest and catch a glimpse of the killer?"

The trio waited with bated breath as the video played, revealing a shadowy figure lurking in the back moments before Daniel entered the frame. With lightning precision, the figure concealed by a dark cloak moved toward the waiter and retreated just as quickly. The murderer's identity may have remained concealed but their size and stature hinted at just one thing, a woman had been the culprit of this heinous act.

As the footage concluded, Tyril couldn't help but notice someone lingering on the other side of the column, partially concealed from view. He strained to catch a glimpse, but when he turned to inspect further, they were nowhere to be found. With only a glimpse of their features, he couldn't be sure, but he thought he had seen Queen Amalas.

[Continue...]

Thanks for reading! I hope you are enjoying the mystery. What do you make of all of the new clues that seem to be arising? What could it mean?

Find out tomorrow when the last section of the story is released.

Giveaway Information: complete details here

3 winners will be chose for minimalist portraits with @bayleedrawsx

Any one who comments on or reblogs with a comment with their theories, thoughts, ideas, ect. on any and all sections of the story will be entered in the giveaway. (1 entry per section)

Prompts: For @choicesbookclub COP ; @choicesmonthlychallenge Private Investigator Event

Special thanks: to JenBeaumontJones (IG) for beta reading

#playchoices #choices game #the royal romance #blades of light and shadow #crimes of passion #desire & decorum #choices fan fiction #tyril starfury #trystan thorne #marguerite thorne #nia ellarious #maxwell beaumont #olivia nevrakis #queen amalas #prince hamid #lovealexhunt #choices book club

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danceylancey · 1 year

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In an attempt to help each of them work with each other better they decide to do a mind meld. It will, at random, put all of them into one of their memories. The five of them agree at various levels of confidence, Lance the most uneasy and only agreeing after Coran gave them a device that would signal that wanted to leave and swore to respect it. It starts of well enough, they get to see Hunk with his family as his dad works on a car and tells his son he doesn’t have to do manly things to be a man. His dad tells him that being a man means good and kind, decent to those around you. He tells his son that he doesn’t give a damn if he wants to cook or fly or whatever, as long as he’s true to himself his father will always be proud of him. Next they see Pidge having argument with her brother only for him to spin it around and comfort her. The memory ends with them getting into a tickle fight. Shiro and Keith have a similar memory of their first meeting, though for Shiro it’s Adam joking with him about picking up strays and having a teachers pet and for Keith it’s the jump on their bikes. When the next memory forms they find themselves in an abandoned street looking at a corner store. It’s window is smashed and it’s clearly been looted, the rest of the street is in a similar state. A car nearby looks as if it’s been exploded. They all look around, wondering whose memory they his could be. Before they can question anything aloud, two people come sneaking out of an ally and behind the burnt up car. There’s a girl who looks like she’s close to eighteen and a little boy who could be eight, both have dark tanned skin and rumpled, torn clothing. Pidge asks if it’s Lance, but the other doesn’t respond. They’re all too caught up in the scene before them to notice his uncharacteristic silence. The boy and girl go into the store while looking around, as if waiting to be spotted. The girl starts grabbing objects, mainly canned food, tape and some other odds. The boy crouches behind the low wall and peeks through some broken glass, on watch. He’s breathing heavily and his little hands are shaking as he wipes his face from snot and dirt. The girl suddenly drops her bag, contents clanging down. They watch as she backs ups it’s her hands in the air, a man with military like uniform stumbles forward with his gun drawn. He’s grinning but stumbling, possibly drunk. He speaks in a language they don’t know, but by the way he grabs his crotch it’s clear what his intentions are. Their all watching in shock, waiting for something to happen. The girl speaks, a few tears going down her face as she does. Then, so suddenly it makes them all jump, a shot rings out. It’s silenced but still clear. The man cries out and falls back, looking at his slowly bleeding shoulder and looks towards the shooter. They all turn to look at where the little boy had been and find him holding a large pistol, bugger than his forearm. The man shouts something and stumbles away as the girl rushes over to the boy and grabs the gun, pointing it at the fleeing man and shooting again. The man falls instantly, like a rag doll. A headshot. The girl turns to the boy and pulls him ive to her bag as she works faster to recollect her things so they can flee. This time when she speaks in its English, “you shot his shoulder.” It’s both a statement and an accusation. The boy, now silently crying, looks ashamed as he says, “I’m sorry, I missed.” The girl scoffs but then turns serious and tells him with a cold voice, “you never miss. If you can’t kill someone, they will kill you. That’s how the world works, Lance.” The boy, Lance, nods and looks over at the dead body. The two flee, the girl getting the soldiers gun and spitting on his body. By then their all looking at Lance, whose face is blank but eyes are filled with a deep sadness. Without a word, he presses his panic button.

#lance mcclain #lance centric #langst

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obsidian-jaw · 5 months

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one part of a ~10k (and increasing lol) word fic i started awhile ago that ive been debating posting since i've literally never written anything before. but the Zevlor brain rot is so incredibly aggressive rn that i needed some kind of outlet before i exploded. so here's me testing the waters.

also i've never posted something like this before so apologies if i tagged/posted this incorrectly in some way.

Zevlor x Tav (MDNI / +18)

The following night, Tav made sure to check in with everyone, catching up on the day’s events and any idle banter they were interested in having. It had been a long day, and everyone was looking forward to an early night after dinner.

Once she had made her rounds and enough people had vanished from sight for the evening, Tav slipped out of the cave undetected in search of the Hellrider.

She found him in his usual spot overlooking the west forest, sitting casually on a large wooden crate. His location was far enough away from the main entrance to not be seen, but close enough to hear someone’s approach.

Their initial casual conversation was short lived. Tav was once again straddling his lap, their lips locked with a similar intensity as the night before. His arms wrapped around her waist, keeping her close to him as his hands began to toy with her shirt, tucked neatly into the top of her pants.

He was the first to release their kiss, straying to her jaw, then to her neck. His lips brushing her skin sent shivers up her spine. Tav tipped her head back, exposing more of her to him as he sent waves of heat through her body with each kiss. Her core was pulsing, the longing within her burning hotter.

Zevlor’s movements were still somewhat hesitant, but there was more familiarity in him now. Memories of past intimacy had unlocked and come back to him - what it sounded like, felt like, tasted like.

Once he had freed her shirt from her pants, he slid his callused hands carefully up her torso, his touch warm and delicate. A quiver ran through her as his thumbs just barely grazed the bottom of her. She could feel his arousal, his need for relief, pressing into her.

A deep rumble sounded in the tiefling’s throat as Tav began to grind into him. She felt his hips roll towards her from his seated position, his grip on her thighs tight. It was painfully obvious how much he craved her, needed her. And Tav was all too delighted to give him the release he ached for.

Tav relinquished his lips with one last drawn out kiss, their eyes meeting for a moment as she pulled away. A look of confusion spread across his face, questioning. A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth as she carefully dismounted from his lap to kneel between his legs. His puzzled expression came and went as Tav reached out and started to unbuckle his belt, understanding snapping into him.

“W-wait,” a panicked Zevlor breathed, “someone may see us.” His hands shot out to hers in an attempt to stop her, but weakly.

Tav stopped, pulling back a little, understanding his concern. “Do you want me to stop?” she whispered, not wanting to make him uncomfortable.

Silence hung between them as Zevlor considered, his eyes flickering between hers. She could see the internal battle he was having, uneasy that they were in a semi-public location but the anticipation of what she was about to do taking hold of him.

He swallowed before his quiet “no", then lightly guided her hands back to his belt, helping her to unbuckle it. His hands then laid on either side of his thighs to grip the edge of the crate, muffled clicks from his claws sounding as they hit the wood.

Once his arousal was free from the confines of his trousers, Tav regarded him in moderate awe. She was not at all surprised by his size, for he was rather large for a tielfling. A deep, beautiful scarlet red. Infernal ridges similar to others on his body. Thick and regal.

Zevlor was completely frozen in place. But Tav gave him a reassuring smile as she curled her fingers delicately around his length. Bringing her mouth to the tip of him, she kissed him gently. She felt him pulse in her hand, eagerness flooding him.

Silence filled the space between them other than the sounds of her lips dancing across his skin. She was slow and gentle, letting him adjust to her. After not having been with someone for awhile, she did not want to rush him. He deserved leisure and tenderness.

“Hells,” he groaned as she wrapped her mouth around his head, sliding him into and out of her with ease. The wood creaked under his tightening hold with each one of her steady pulls.

A strained moan passed his lips as she took more and more of him in, slow and steady, as her tongue pressed firmly to his underside while her lips continued to glide smoothly across his head.

It didn’t take long for Zevlor to come undone, body abruptly rigid and breath hitching. “Fuck,” he hissed quietly under his breath. His eyes had slammed shut from the intensity of his orgasm as he suddenly spilled into Tav’s mouth. Small splinters burst from the crate as his claws dug into the wood beneath him.

Tav gave him a second of stillness before lazily pulling him in and out of her mouth while he came, prolonging his climax. There was a hollow thud as Zevlor let his back fall heavily against the stack of crates behind him.

She pulled him delicately from her mouth, kissing the tip of him one last time. “That didn’t take long,” she teased softly.

“Forgive me,” he exhaled with slight embarrassment, his head spinning. “I-I have not had a moment for pleasure in…quite some time.”

She hummed to herself, wiping the side of her mouth with her sleeve. “Please don’t be embarrassed,” she reassured the tiefling, letting her hands linger on his thighs as she stood up. “It’s fine.”

Zevlor eventually found the strength to stand, Tav offering support as they straightened themselves up.

“You made this old tiefling feel young again,” he said, running his hand through his hair.

She smiled, taking his hand in hers to pull him down to her, kissing his cheek affectionately. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she whispered under half-lidded eyes as she left the content and relaxed Hellrider to return to her tent.

#bg3 #bg3 zevlor #zevlor #zevlor x tav #please larian i am begging you #ivy writes #zevlor hc

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istumpysk · 2 years

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Operation Stumpy Re-Read

AFFC: Alayne II (Sansa III) [Chapter 41]

My little sweet tea! ❤️

I'm a Sansa fan, and even I find the length of this chapter alarming.

She turned the iron ring and pushed the door open, just a crack. "Sweetrobin?" she called. "May I enter?"

"Have a care, m'lady," warned old Gretchel, wringing her hands. "His lordship threw his chamber pot at the maester."

"Then he has none to throw at me. Isn't there some work you should be doing? And you, Maddy . . . are all the windows closed and shuttered? Have all the furnishings been covered?"

"All of them, m'lady," said Maddy.

"Best make certain of it."

Have you forgotten this is a 13-year-old kid?

Because the author would like you to.

+.+.+

"I heard my Sweetrobin was ailing." After his encounter with the chamber pot the maester had come running to Ser Lothor, and Brune had come to her.

His mother?

+.+.+

"No," he said, "but I'm not going. I want to stay in bed. You could read to me about the Winged Knight."

The Winged Knight was Ser Artys Arryn. Legend said that he had driven the First Men from the Vale and flown to the top of the Giant's Lance on a huge falcon to slay the Griffin King. There were a hundred tales of his adventures.

Dragonrider imagery featuring a dead Griffin King.

+.+.+

Alayne slipped into the darkened bedchamber. "It's only me, Sweetrobin."

Someone sniffled in the darkness. "Are you alone?"

"It is too dark in here for reading." The heavy curtains drawn across the windows made the bedchamber black as night.

"Might I let some sun in?" "No. The light hurts my eyes. Come to bed, Alayne." "I shan't open them very wide. Only enough to see my Sweetrobin's face."

He sniffled. "If you must."

"I don't love her. She's just the mule girl." Robert sniffled.

"I could do it," Lord Robert said, "but I don't choose to." He swiped at his runny nose with the back of his hand.

Take note, they're in a dark bedchamber, and Robert keeps sniffling.

Robert Arryn has never sniffled in any Sansa chapter until now.

+.+.+

She sat on the bed and smoothed his long, fine hair. He does have pretty hair.

Sansa's got a kink.

Tenderly she reached out and brushed back his soft blond hair. - Sansa I, AGOT

+.+.+

Before she could summon the servants, however, Sweetrobin threw his skinny arms around her and kissed her. It was a little boy's kiss, and clumsy. Everything Robert Arryn did was clumsy. If I close my eyes I can pretend he is the Knight of Flowers. Ser Loras had given Sansa Stark a red rose once, but he had never kissed her . . . and no Tyrell would ever kiss Alayne Stone. Pretty as she was, she had been born on the wrong side of the blanket.

Sounds like we need another bastard.

For those keeping score, here's the people and things Sansa has been forced to kiss:

Ser Dontos.

Give your Florian a little kiss now. A kiss for luck. - Sansa IV, ACOK

Joffrey's sword.

"Bless my steel with a kiss." He extended the blade down to her. "Go on, kiss it." - Sansa V, ACOK

Sandor Clegane. (In her head. The reality of the situation was far worse.)

He kissed me and threatened to kill me, and made me sing him a song. - Sansa II, ASOS

Tyrion Lannister.

"With this kiss I pledge my love," the dwarf replied hoarsely, "and take you for my lady and wife." He leaned forward, and their lips touched briefly. - Sansa III, ASOS

Littlefinger.

Sansa tried to step back, but he pulled her into his arms and suddenly he was kissing her. - Sansa VII, ASOS

And Robert Arryn.

If you don't think this ongoing nightmare will be set right, I don't know what to tell you.

+.+.+

As the boy's lips touched her own she found herself thinking of another kiss. She could still remember how it felt, when his cruel mouth pressed down on her own. He had come to Sansa in the darkness as green fire filled the sky. He took a song and a kiss, and left me nothing but a bloody cloak.

It made no matter. That day was done, and so was Sansa.

That's not what he came for, but I'll let you cope.

+.+.+

Maddy and Gretchel might listen all they wished, but they would hear nothing. That was just as well. Gretchel could hold her tongue, but Maddy gossiped shamelessly.

Robert's squires had turned up as well. Terrance and Gyles could always sniff out trouble.

Lady Alayne knows her staff well.

+.+.+

"Lord Robert is feeling stronger," Alayne told the serving women. "Fetch hot water for his bath, but see you don't scald him. And do not pull on his hair when you brush out the tangles, he hates that." One of the squires sniggered, until she said, "Terrance, lay out his lordship's riding clothes and his warmest cloak. Gyles, you may clean up that broken chamber pot."

Yes, Your Grace.

+.+.+

"His fingers trembled a little bit when I held his hand, that's all. He says you put something vile in his milk."

"Vile?" Colemon blinked at her, and the apple in his throat moved up and down. "I merely . . . is he bleeding from the nose?"

"No."

"Good. That is good."

[...]

Alayne understood all that well enough, but it meant that the burden of getting Sweetrobin safely down the mountain fell on her. "Give his lordship a cup of sweetmilk," she told the maester. "That will stop him from shaking on the journey down."

"He had a cup not three days past," Colemon objected.

"And wanted another last night, which you refused him."

"It was too soon. My lady, you do not understand. As I've told the Lord Protector, a pinch of sweetsleep will prevent the shaking, but it does not leave the flesh, and in time . . ."

"Time will not matter if his lordship has a shaking fit and falls off the mountain. If my father were here, I know he would tell you to keep Lord Robert calm at all costs."

"I try, my lady, yet his fits grow ever more violent, and his blood is so thin I dare not leech him any more. Sweetsleep . . . you are certain he was not bleeding from the nose?"

"He was sniffling," Alayne admitted, "but I saw no blood."

My gut tells me that boy was in fact bleeding from the nose, and this maester is a dimwit for not checking on that himself.

It could not be more clear that Sansa has no clue how dangerous sweetsleep is, and this bumbling fool is doing a horrific job at making her understand.

+.+.+

They dare not let the full extent of Robert's frailty and cowardice become too widely known, her father had warned her.

In her mind she's protecting Robin.

+.+.+

Petyr Baelish was clear across the Vale, though, attending Lord Lyonel Corbray at his wedding. A widower of forty-odd years, and childless, Lord Lyonel was to wed the strapping sixteen-year-old daughter of a rich Gulltown merchant. Petyr had brokered the match himself. The bride's dower was said to be staggering; it had to be, since she was of common birth. Corbray's vassals would be there, with the Lords Waxley, Grafton, Lynderly, some petty lords and landed knights . . . and Lord Belmore, who had lately reconciled with her father. The other Lords Declarant were expected to shun the nuptials, so Petyr's presence was essential.

There's the first one. 1/6.

"Redfort and Waynwood are old. One or both of them may die. Gilwood Hunter will be murdered by his brothers. Most likely by young Harlan, who arranged Lord Eon's death. In for a penny, in for a stag, I always say. Belmore is corrupt and can be bought. Templeton I shall befriend. Bronze Yohn Royce will continue to be hostile, I fear, but so long as he stands alone he is not so much a threat." - Alayne I, AFFC

Too bad you pissed off Lyn Cobray in the process.

+.+.+

"Music soothes him," she corrected, "the high harp especially. It's singing he can't abide, since Marillion killed his mother." Alayne had told the lie so many times that she remembered it that way more oft than not; the other seemed no more than a bad dream that sometimes troubled her sleep.

Kind of like lying to yourself about the night you were almost raped and killed.

+.+.+

What would she do when the music began to play? It was a vexing question, to which her heart and head gave different answers. Sansa loved to dance, but Alayne . . .

The dancing girl will always follow her heart.

+.+.+

"Just give him a cup of the sweetmilk before we go, and another at the feast, and there should be no trouble."

"Very well." They paused at the foot of the stairs. "But this must be the last. For half a year, or longer."

For the record, he did have a cup of sweetmilk before they left, and will have more at the feast.

Please, she prayed, don't let him start to twitch and shake. Not here. Not now. Maester Coleman would have made certain that he drank a strong dose of sweetmilk before the feast, but even so. - Alayne I, TWOW

I have to admit, sometimes I question whether I'm denying the obvious when it comes to Robert Arryn.

+.+.+

Old snow cloaked the courtyard, and icicles hung down like crystal spears from the terraces and towers. The Eyrie was built of fine white stone, and winter's mantle made it whiter still. So beautiful, Alayne thought, so impregnable.

Would you call it an enchantment?

+.+.+

She could not love this place, no matter how she tried.

Don't think for one second they're going to let this interfere with their Lady of the Vale meta.

+.+.+

No one sang up there, not since Marillion. No one ever laughed too loud. Even the gods were silent. The Eyrie boasted a sept, but no septon; a godswood, but no heart tree. No prayers are answered here, she often thought, though some days she felt so lonely she had to try. Only the wind answered her, sighing endlessly around the seven slim white towers and rattling the Moon Door every time it gusted.

BRAN?!

+.+.+

Her father said there was no shame in being afraid, only in showing your fear. "All men live with fear," he said. Alayne was not certain she believed that. Nothing frightened Petyr Baelish. He only said that to make me brave.

There's nothing wrong with showing your fear.

Way to go, Ned. All you had to do was take a second and have this conversation with her before Baelish could.

+.+.+

"Don't be so certain, m'lady. She's half mule herself, that one. I think she'd leave us all to starve before she'd put those animals at risk." He smiled when he said it. He always smiles when he speaks of Mya Stone. Mya was much younger than Ser Lothor, but when her father had been brokering the marriage between Lord Corbray and his merchant's daughter, he'd told her that young girls were always happiest with older men. "Innocence and experience make for a perfect marriage," he had said.

Holy god, why do people believe Littlefinger actually plans to wed Sansa to Harry? Why.

Petyr Baelish had offered to wed the girl himself, she recalled, but of course that was impossible; he was much too lowborn. - Cersei II, ADWD

hello? HELLO??

+.+.+

Alayne wondered what Mya made of Ser Lothor. With his squashed nose, square jaw, and nap of woolly grey hair, Brune could not be called comely, but he was not ugly either. It is a common face but an honest one. Though he had risen to knighthood, Ser Lothor's birth had been very low. One night he had told her that he was kin to the Brunes of Brownhollow, an old knightly family from Crackclaw Point. "I went to them when my father died," he confessed, "but they shat on me, and said I was no blood of theirs." He would not speak of what happened after that, except to say that he had learned all he knew of arms the hard way. Sober, he was a quiet man, but a strong one. And Petyr says he's loyal. He trusts him as much as he trusts anyone.

A bit more background on the Brunes and Cracklaw Point.

Lothor has an honest face, is quiet, strong, and loyal. If Sansa's saying it, trust it.

+.+.+

"M'lady," Ser Lothor said, "you'd best know. Mya didn't come up alone. Lady Myranda's with her."

"Oh." Why would she ride all the way up the mountain, just to ride back down again?

I think we downplay how completely insane it is that Myranda travelled all the way up this mountain only so she could ride down with Alayne.

+.+.+

"Soon or late you must meet Myranda Royce," Petyr had warned her. "When you do, be careful. She likes to play the merry fool, but underneath she's shrewder than her father. Guard your tongue around her."

I will, she thought, but I did not know I'd need to start so soon. "Robert will be pleased." He liked Myranda Royce.

Mya and Myranda are like sisters.

Littlefinger is cautious around Myranda.

Sweetrobin likes Myranda.

Everything we learn about Myranda is positive.

+.+.+

There was a scarf as well, and a pair of leather gloves lined with fur to match her riding boots. When she'd donned it all, she felt as fat and furry as a bear cub.

The snowy bear cub will be riding a mule through the harsh elements.

Eat your heart out, pantry.

+.+.+

She took one last look at her room before she left. I was safe here, she thought, but down below . .

Sansa always knows.

+.+.+

"He needs to make some haste. It's getting colder, can't you feel it? We need to get below Snow before the sun goes down."

Do you have any idea how funny this sentence is?

+.+.+

"My lord," said Mya, "will you ride down with me?"

Too brusque, Alayne thought. She should have greeted him with a smile, told him how strong and brave he looks.

You ever notice Sansa's strengths are Jon's weaknesses?

+.+.+

The sky cells on the lower levels made the castle look something like a honeycomb from below. A honeycomb made of ice, Alayne thought, a castle made of snow.

That's a misdirection.

And later I dreamt that maid again, slaying a savage giant in a castle built of snow. - Arya VIII, AFFC

He doesn't die in the Eyrie. They can't go up the mountain during winter.

+.+.+

She [Myranda Royce] got to her feet and brushed the snow from her skirts. "And you must be the Lord Protector's daughter," she added, as the bucket went rattling back up to the Eyrie. "I had heard that you were beautiful. I see that it is true."

Alayne curtsied. "My lady is kind to say so."

"Kind?" The older girl gave a laugh. "How boring that would be. I aspire to be wicked. You must tell me all your secrets on the ride down. May I call you Alayne?"

What else would you call her?

Sansa using 'my lady' is not a tell, but it will quickly become one.

+.+.+

"If you wish, my lady." But you'll get no secrets from me.

Unreliable narrator Sansa Stark.

You're in way over your head, kid.

+.+.+

"I am 'my lady' at the Gates, but up here on the mountain you may call me Randa. How many years have you, Alayne?"

"Four-and-ten, my lady." She had decided that Alayne Stone should be older than Sansa Stark.

You can remove the girl from high nobility, but you can't remove the high nobility from the girl.

She had decided that Alayne Stone should be older than Sansa Stark.

aka the author is doing everything he can.

+.+.+

"Randa. It seems a hundred years since I was four-and-ten. How innocent I was. Are you still innocent, Alayne?"

She blushed. "You should not . . . yes, of course."

It's not every day you see a bastard correct a highborn girl.

+.+.+

Up here where the slope was steepest, the steps wound back and forth rather than plunging straight down. Sansa Stark went up the mountain, but Alayne Stone is coming down. It was a strange thought.

No real comment, but how could I leave it out?

+.+.+

I could close my eyes. The mule knows the way, he has no need of me. But that seemed more something Sansa would have done, that frightened girl. Alayne was an older woman, and bastard brave.

Sansa associates bastards with bravery.

When you're old enough, I will make you a match with a high lord who's worthy of you, someone brave and gentle and strong. - Sansa III, AGOT

We're 33% of the way there!

+.+.+

"We have had a letter from your father," she said, as casually as if they were sitting with their septa, doing needlework. "He is on his way home, he says, and hopes to see his darling daughter soon. He writes that Lyonel Corbray seems well pleased with his bride, and even more so with her dowry. I do hope Lord Lyonel remembers which one he needs to bed. Lady Waynwood turned up with the Knight of Ninestars for the wedding feast, Lord Petyr says, to everyone's astonishment."

"Anya Waynwood? Truly?" The Lords Declarant were down from six to three, it would seem. The day he'd departed the mountain, Petyr Baelish had been confident of winning Symond Templeton to his side, but not so Lady Waynwood.

She said it before I could. 3/6.

Too bad you pissed off Lyn Cobray in the process.

+.+.+

"Not from your father, no, but we've had other birds. The war goes on, everywhere but here. Riverrun has yielded, but Dragonstone and Storm's End still hold for Lord Stannis."

"Lady Lysa was so wise, to keep us out of it."

Myranda gave her a shrewd little smile. "Yes, she was the very soul of wisdom, that good lady."

Timeline check. Sansa's slightly ahead of Jaime.

+.+.+

There's a new High Septon, did you know? Oh, and the Night's Watch has a boy commander, some bastard son of Eddard Stark's."

"Jon Snow?" she blurted out, surprised.

Alayne, did you know you spent your entire childhood with the Faith, studying to become a septa? And did you know you have no idea who Eddard Stark's bastard is?

+.+.+

She had not thought of Jon in ages. He was only her half brother, but still . . . with Robb and Bran and Rickon dead, Jon Snow was the only brother that remained to her. I am a bastard too now, just like him. Oh, it would be so sweet, to see him once again.

+.+.+

But of course that could never be. Alayne Stone had no brothers, baseborn or otherwise.

I believe you, author.

+.+.+

"Our cousin Bronze Yohn had himself a mêlée at Runestone," Myranda Royce went on, oblivious, "a small one, just for squires. It was meant for Harry the Heir to win the honors, and so he did."

"Harry the Heir?"

"Lady Waynwood's ward. Harrold Hardyng. I suppose we must call him Ser Harry now. Bronze Yohn knighted him."

Bronze Yohn was scheming.

+.+.+

"Oh, yes. He died on top of me. In me, if truth be told. You do know what goes on in a marriage bed, I hope?"

She thought of Tyrion, and of the Hound and how he'd kissed her, and gave a nod. "That must have been dreadful, my lady. Him dying. There, I mean, whilst . . . whilst he was . . ."

". . . fucking me?"

Lol, I love Myranda. She better not disappoint me.

+.+.+

"As you say, my lady." Alayne remembered Petyr's warning.

"Randa. Come now, you can say it. Ran. Da."

You're doing amazing, sweetie.

+.+.+

"Much better. I fear I must apologize to you. You will think me a dreadful slut, I know, but I bedded that pretty boy Marillion. I did not know he was a monster. He sang beautifully, and could do the sweetest things with his fingers. I would never have taken him to bed if I had known he was going to push Lady Lysa through the Moon Door. I do not bed monsters, as a rule."

That right there might be a problem. When did that happen?

Remember who accompanied Catelyn Stark to the Vale? Remember who met Littlefinger's daughter when she still had red hair?

Stumpy remembers.

+.+.+

She studied Alayne's face and chest. "You are prettier than me, but my breasts are larger. The maesters say large breasts produce no more milk than small ones, but I do not believe it. Have you ever known a wet nurse with small teats? Yours are ample for a girl your age, but as they are bastard breasts, I shan't concern myself with them."

Here's another reminder that Sansa is 13 and the young woman eyeing her up and down like a rival is 20.

+.+.+

Mychel Redfort was the one. He used to be Lyn Corbray's squire. A real squire, not like that loutish lad Ser Lyn's got squiring for him now. He only took that one on for coin, they say.

We're still not sure who this loutish squire is.

Alayne's giggle drew Corbray's attention. He handed his shield to his loutish squire, removed his helm and quilted coif. - Alayne I, TWOW

+.+.+

"Do you think Ser Lothor likes her as she is, in mail and leather?" she asked the older girl, who seemed so worldly-wise. "Or does he dream of her draped in silks and velvets?"

"He's a man. He dreams of her naked."

Lol.

+.+.+

"Does your father plan to wed again?"

"My father?" Alayne had never considered that. Somehow the notion made her squirm.

Why, because you have a sixth sense and deep down you know he plans to wed you?

+.+.+

He needs a pretty young wife to wash away his grief. I imagine he could have his pick of half the noble maidens in the Vale. Who could be a better husband than our own bold Lord Protector?

Hold this.

+.+.+

Though I do wish he had a better name than Littlefinger. How little is it, do you know?"

"His finger?" She blushed again. "I don't . . . I never . . ."

Totally normal thing you might ask his daughter.

+.+.+

"It's best to lead the mules across," Mya said. "If it please my lord, I'll take mine over first, then come back for yours." Lord Robert did not answer. He was staring at the narrow saddle with his reddened eyes. "I shan't be long, my lord," Mya promised, but Alayne doubted that the boy could even hear her.

When the bastard girl led her mule out from beneath the shelter of the spire, the wind caught her in its teeth. Her cloak lifted, twisting and flapping in the air. Mya staggered, and for half a heartbeat it seemed as if she would be blown over the precipice, but somehow she regained her balance and went on.

Alayne took Robert's gloved hand in her own to stop his shaking. "Sweetrobin," she said, "I'm scared. Hold my hand, and help me get across. I know you're not afraid."

He looked at her, his pupils small dark pinpricks in eyes as big and white as eggs. "I'm not?"

"Not you. You're my winged knight, Ser Sweetrobin."

"The Winged Knight could fly," Robert whispered.

"Higher than the mountains." She gave his hand a squeeze.

Lady Myranda had joined them by the spire. "He could," she echoed, when she saw what was happening.

"Ser Sweetrobin," Lord Robert said, and Alayne knew that she dare not wait for Mya to return. She helped the boy dismount, and hand in hand they walked out onto the bare stone saddle, their cloaks snapping and flapping behind them. All around was empty air and sky, the ground falling away sharply to either side.

[...]

And then they were on the other side, and Mya Stone was laughing and lifting Robert for a hug.

Look at our girl! Catelyn is made of steel, and this nearly broke her.

"Lady Stark," Mya called across the gulf. The girl sounded a thousand leagues away. "Are you well?"

Catelyn Tully Stark swallowed what remained of her pride. "I … I cannot do this, child," she called out. - Catelyn VI, AGOT

Sorry, I kind of have to point out Sansa has natural maternal instincts, and the author keeps highlighting that through her interactions with Robert.

+.+.+

There was ice underfoot, and broken stones just waiting to turn an ankle, and the wind was howling fiercely. It sounds like a wolf, thought Sansa. A ghost wolf, big as mountains.

+.+.+

"So you're brave as well as beautiful," Myranda said to her.

"No."

Yes.

+.+.+

"I remember a man throwing me in the air when I was very little. He stands as tall as the sky, and he throws me up so high it feels as though I'm flying. We're both laughing, laughing so much that I can hardly catch a breath, and finally I laugh so hard I wet myself, but that only makes him laugh the louder. I was never afraid when he was throwing me. I knew that he would always be there to catch me." She pushed her hair back. "Then one day he wasn't. Men come and go. They lie, or die, or leave you. A mountain is not a man, though, and a stone is a mountain's daughter. I trust my father, and I trust my mules. I won't fall." She put her hand on a jagged spur of rock, and got to her feet. "Best finish. We have a long way yet to go, and I can smell a storm."

He'll come back, Sansa.

There was nothing below but yawning blackness, nothing above but moon and stars. "The mountain is your mother," Stonesnake had told him during an easier climb a few days past. "Cling to her, press your face up against her teats, and she won't drop you." - Jon VI, ACOK

+.+.+

"We have apartments prepared for all of you," she told Alayne, "but if you like you may share my bed tonight. It's large enough for four."

"I should be honored, my lady."

"Randa.

Jesus, she's more formal than the queen during a court session.

+.+.+

Count yourself fortunate that I'm so tired. All I want to do is curl up and go to sleep. Usually when ladies share my bed they have to pay a pillow tax and tell me all about the wicked things they've done."

"What if they haven't done any wicked things?"

"Why, then they must confess all the wicked things they want to do. Not you, of course. I can see how virtuous you are just by looking at those rosy cheeks and big blue eyes of yours."

Any talk of how innocent and virtuous Sansa is will always elicit a giggle from me.

+.+.+

They all rose when she entered, and Petyr smiled warmly. "Alayne. Come, give your father a kiss."

She hugged him dutifully and kissed him on the cheek.

I will drill through your urethra.

+.+.+

"You are never an intrusion, sweetling. I was just now telling these good knights what a dutiful daughter I had."

"Dutiful and beautiful," said an elegant young knight whose thick blond mane cascaded down well past his shoulders.

I smashed my head against the cement, and figured out this is actually Sandor Clegane.

+.+.+

"You left out that part, m'lord." "I would do the same if she were my daughter," said the last knight, a short, wiry man with a wry smile, pointed nose, and bristly orange hair. "Particularly around louts like us."

Alayne laughed. "Are you louts?" she said, teasing. "Why, I took the three of you for gallant knights."

"Knights they are," said Petyr. "Their gallantry has yet to be demonstrated, but we may hope. Allow me to present Ser Byron, Ser Morgarth, and Ser Shadrich. Sers, the Lady Alayne, my natural and very clever daughter . . . with whom I must needs confer, if you will be so good as to excuse us."

Uh oh!

For those keeping track, the following people know Alayne is Sansa:

Petyr Baelish

Oswell Kettleblack

Lothor Brune

Ser Shadrich the Mad Mouse

Myranda Royce (probably)

Yohn Royce (undetermined)

That's too many.

Personally, I don't think you introduce Ser Shadrich, and put him in the Vale, if you don't intend to use him in the story. So, yeah.

This is also a nice reminder that Littlefinger is capable of making big mistakes.

+.+.+

"I did not expect you back so soon," she said. "I am glad you've come."

"I would never have known it from the kiss you gave me." He pulled her closer, caught her face between his hands, and kissed her on the lips for a long time. "Now that's the sort of kiss that says welcome home. See that you do better next time."

I will peel your foreskin.

+.+.+

"You would not believe half of what is happening in King's Landing, sweetling. Cersei stumbles from one idiocy to the next, helped along by her council of the deaf, the dim, and the blind. I always anticipated that she would beggar the realm and destroy herself, but I never expected she would do it quite so fast. It is quite vexing. I had hoped to have four or five quiet years to plant some seeds and allow some fruits to ripen, but now . . . it is a good thing that I thrive on chaos.

Is it still called breaking the fourth wall when it's a book?

+.+.+

The Merling King's returned to Gulltown, and old Oswell had some tales to tell."

[...]

What little peace and order the five kings left us will not long survive the three queens, I fear.

"Three queens?" She did not understand.

Nor did Petyr choose to explain.

The peace will not survive the three queens. You shouldn't want this to be about Sansa.

It's Cersei, Margaery, and Daenerys. The Merling King returned from Braavos, he knows about Daenerys.

+.+.+

"I have brought my sweet girl back a gift."

Alayne was as pleased as she was surprised. "Is it a gown?" She had heard there were fine seamstresses in Gulltown, and she was so tired of dressing drably.

Gulltown. Gulltown. Gulltown.

+.+.+

Petyr Baelish took her by the hand and drew her down onto his lap. "I have made a marriage contract for you."

I will decorate my Christmas tree with your intestines.

+.+.+

"I am married," she whispered. "You know."

Petyr put a finger to her lips to silence her.

I will make you nurse a badger.

+.+.+

"Lady Waynwood?" Alayne could hardly believe it. "Why would she marry one of her sons to . . . to a . . ."

". . . bastard? For a start, you are the Lord Protector's bastard, never forget. The Waynwoods are very old and very proud, but not as rich as one might think, as I discovered when I began buying up their debt. Not that Lady Anya would ever sell a son for gold. A ward, however . . . young Harry's only a cousin, and the dower that I offered her ladyship was even larger than the one that Lyonel Corbray just collected.

I'm confident he's somehow screwing over Anya Waynwood and Lyonel Corbray on these deals.

You know who else doesn't pay debts? Littlefinger.

+.+.+

It had to be, for her to risk Bronze Yohn's wroth. This will put all his plans awry.

It appears Littlefinger was aware of Bronze Yohn's plans. Can I be told?

+.+.+

"He was just knighted. And he has a bastard daughter by some common girl."

"And another on the way by a different wench. Harry can be a beguiling one, no doubt. Soft sandy hair, deep blue eyes, and dimples when he smiles. And very gallant, I am told."

I know, maybe Littlefinger has a cuckolding fetish, and can't wait to have his favourite play thing mounted by a younger, better looking guy? Most men are like that, right?

I mean sure, he was super territorial with Catelyn, and almost died fighting her betrothed, but he could change? Right?

+.+.+

He teased her with a smile. "Bastard-born or no, sweetling, when this match is announced you will be the envy of every highborn maiden in the Vale, and a few from the riverlands and the Reach as well."

I would love to know why any maiden from the riverlands or the Reach would give a shit about Harrold Hardyng, an upjumped squire who's never left the Vale.

You get any petitions for marriage when you were in the Reach, Baelish?

He needs a pretty young wife to wash away his grief. I imagine he could have his pick of half the noble maidens in the Vale. Who could be a better husband than our own bold Lord Protector?

+.+.+

Petyr took her hand in his own and brushed his finger lightly down the inside of her palm.

I will harvest your organs.

+.+.+

"Won't they come before Harry? I don't understand."

"You will. Listen." Petyr took her hand in his own and brushed his finger lightly down the inside of her palm.

"Lord Jasper Arryn, begin with him. Jon Arryn's father. He begot three children, two sons and a daughter. Jon was the eldest, so the Eyrie and the lordship passed to him. His sister Alys wed Ser Elys Waynwood, uncle to the present Lady Waynwood." He made a wry face. "Elys and Alys, isn't that precious? Lord Jasper's younger son, Ser Ronnel Arryn, wed a Belmore girl, but only rang her once or twice before dying of a bad belly. Their son Elbert was being born in one bed even as poor Ronnel was dying in another down the hall. Are you paying close attention, sweetling?"

"Yes. There was Jon and Alys and Ronnel, but Ronnel died."

"Good. Now, Jon Arryn married thrice, but his first two wives gave him no children, so for long years his nephew Elbert was his heir. Meantime, Elys was plowing Alys quite dutifully, and she was whelping once a year. She gave him nine children, eight girls and one precious little boy, another Jasper, after which she died exhausted. Boy Jasper, inconsiderate of the heroic efforts that had gone into begetting him, got himself kicked in the head by a horse when he was three years old. A pox took two of his sisters soon after, leaving six. The eldest married Ser Denys Arryn, a distant cousin to the Lords of the Eyrie. There are several branches of House Arryn scattered across the Vale, all as proud as they are penurious, save for the Gulltown Arryns, who had the rare good sense to marry merchants. They're rich, but less than couth, so no one talks about them. Ser Denys hailed from one of the poor, proud branches . . . but he was also a renowned jouster, handsome and gallant and brimming with courtesy. And he had that magic Arryn name, which made him ideal for the eldest Waynwood girl. Their children would be Arryns, and the next heirs to the Vale should any ill befall Elbert. Well, as it happened, Mad King Aerys befell Elbert. You know that story?"

She did. "The Mad King murdered him."

"He did indeed. And soon after, Ser Denys left his pregnant Waynwood wife to ride to war. He died during the Battle of the Bells, of an excess of gallantry and an axe. When they told his lady of his death she perished of grief, and her newborn son soon followed. No matter. Jon Arryn had gotten himself a young wife during the war, one he had reason to believe fertile. He was very hopeful, I'm sure, but you and I know that all he ever got from Lysa were stillbirths, miscarriages, and poor Sweetrobin.

"Which brings us back to the five remaining daughters of Elys and Alys. The eldest had been left terribly scarred by the same pox that killed her sisters, so she became a septa. Another was seduced by a sellsword. Ser Elys cast her out, and she joined the silent sisters after her bastard died in infancy. The third wed the Lord of the Paps, but proved barren. The fourth was on her way to the riverlands to marry some Bracken when Burned Men carried her off. That left the youngest, who wed a landed knight sworn to the Waynwoods, gave him a son that she named Harrold, and perished."

+.+.+

He turned her hand over and lightly kissed her wrist.

I will invert your ribcage.

+.+.+

"So tell me, sweetling—why is Harry the Heir?"

Her eyes widened. "He is not Lady Waynwood's heir. He's Robert's heir. If Robert were to die . . ."

SHE'S A CHILD PRODIGY.

+.+.+

Petyr arched an eyebrow. "When Robert dies. Our poor brave Sweetrobin is such a sickly boy, it is only a matter of time. When Robert dies, Harry the Heir becomes Lord Harrold, Defender of the Vale and Lord of the Eyrie. Jon Arryn's bannermen will never love me, nor our silly, shaking Robert, but they will love their Young Falcon . . .

I'm sure your cheque book can fix that.

Do you think Littlefinger wants to compete with a young man who is loved by the high lords and common folk? I don't.

+.+.+

Jon Arryn's bannermen will never love me, nor our silly, shaking Robert, but they will love their Young Falcon . . . and when they come together for his wedding, and you come out with your long auburn hair, clad in a maiden's cloak of white and grey with a direwolf emblazoned on the back . . . why, every knight in the Vale will pledge his sword to win you back your birthright. So those are your gifts from me, my sweet Sansa . . . Harry, the Eyrie, and Winterfell. That's worth another kiss now, don't you think?"

This is going to sound crazy, but you should question everything Littlefinger says.

Anyway, this feels familiar, doesn't it?

"Does this mean you will not wed the girl? I warn you, she is part of the price you must pay, if you want your father's name and your father's castle. This match is necessary, to help assure the loyalty of our new subjects. Are you refusing me, Jon Snow?" - Jon XI, ASOS

+.+.+

That's worth another kiss now, don't you think?

I will power wash your colon.

Final thoughts:

There's only one more Sansa chapter.

-> return to menu <-

#operation stumpy re-read #affc #alayne ii #sansa iii

130 notes · View notes

tiniedemon · 1 year

Text

— ♡

all’s well that ends

alternate ending

professor chaos/butters stotch / reader

— ♡

inspired by ‘all’s well that ends’ by rainbow kitten surprise

cw | mentioned character death

you woke up to the sound of beeping. it was consistent, growing louder with every moment you were awake. you struggled to open your eyes and slid your hand across the sheet below you, making contact with something solid. your fingertips grazed over it as a groan left your lips, discovering soft skin and a faint trace of prickly hair.

the light blinded you, piercing every crevice of your corneas as you opened your eyes. you blinked against the light and sluggishly turned your head towards solid object you’d made contact with, spotting a mop of messy blonde hair drooling on the white sheets below your body.

professor chaos had downgraded to his civilian clothes, a medical eyepatch covering his glass eye and a green hoodie hanging off his thin frame. you let a small smile grace your features, gaze jumping around to the other bodies in your hospital room.

wendy testaburger was slumbering in the corner of the room, wrapped up in her boyfriend stan marsh’s arms on a small cot. on the other corner of the room was kyle broflovski, his body slumped over and asleep in an uncomfortable-looking chair. all three of them were hooked to separate ivs, three poles on wheels crammed into your rather small room.

you made eye contact with kenny mccormick, the man dressed in dark colors, a sullen look on his face. he was staring dead at you with the straightest face you’d ever seen on his face. he was sat opposite butters, slouching in a chair directly beside your bed.

“glad to see you’re alive,” he whispered, leaning forward to rest his elbows against your bed. you smiled softly at him, smoothing your free hand over the sheets to grasp one of his.

“i’m alright, ken,” you responded. he sighed and let his head drop, thumb running over your knuckles.

“i’m so sorry for what i did to you, y/n. i can never forgive myself for it.” you shook your head slowly, tapping the space between his thumb and index finger to catch his attention. the look in his eyes was nothing short of regretful, tears glazing them over and eyebrows drawn up in the center.

“i forgive you, ken. i was fully prepared to kill you if i had to, and i know you were fully prepared to do the same. i don’t hold it against you.” kenny sighed, his blonde hair swaying as he shook his head.

“i truly don’t understand how you can be so kind, but so ruthless in combat,” he chuckled. you chuckled along with him, a cough bubbling in your throat. his head shot back up, eyes huge and alarmed. you were still smiling, and he relaxed upon seeing the lack of blood on your lips. thank god you weren’t bleeding internally anymore. thank god you were alive.

butters groaned on your other side, slowly lifting his head while he rubbed his temples. the second he made eye contact with you, he froze. his jaw dropped and tears glimmered in his good eye, his hand flipping over to squeeze yours.

“hey, baby,” you whispered, the man breaking out into a huge smile as he sobbed. his forehead fell against the back of your hand, shoulders shaking with every soft cry that wracked his body.

“i’ll leave the two of you alone,” kenny whispered, pressing a swift kiss to the side of your head as he stood and left. you watched him go with a soft grin, then turned your attention back to your weeping lover.

“i thought you died, y/n,” he cried. your heart broke, tears rolling down your cheeks as you used your free hand to stroke the lengthy blonde hairs on the back of his head.

“i know, baby. i shouldn’t have been so reckless.”

butters shook his head, snapping his head up to meet your saddened gaze. his lips quivered as sob after sob slipped through them, his body leaned forward to stare at you more intently.

“don’t you blame yourself for this, sweetheart. i saw you out there. you tried your best. you always try your best.” he couldn’t even finish his sentence, collapsing into a mess of tears and wails. you sighed, heart breaking in your chest.

“look at me sweetheart,” you hummed, cupping his chin once he finally lifted his head to look at you. “i told you i wasn’t leaving you, right? the universe worked it all out for us. we weren’t supposed to end so suddenly. now we can live our best lives together.”

butters sniffled, wiping the tears from his face, and stood up just far enough to kiss your forehead. you closed your eyes at the contact, grabbing the back of his head to pull him into a real kiss, his lips soft against yours. you scooted far enough over for him to crawl into bed with you, his head rested against your chest and your arms and legs wrapped around one another.

you inhaled deeply, relishing his scent and his warmth against you. god, you were so thankful you lived. you were so thankful to whoever brought you back from what you were sure was death.

just outside your hospital room, leaned against the wall beside the door, kenny smiled to himself. cthulhu’s curse swelled in his chest, and now yours.

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timmymyluv · 2 years

Text

act five.

of the let others wage war-you, happy child, marry.

future tsar/tsesarevich!timothee chalamet x princess!reader x romanov prince!louis partridge

series masterlist

act i

act ii

act iii

act iv

main masterlist

Summary: In foreign land, you travel with your family to England to celebrate your sister Alexandra's marriage to the Prince of Wales. Facing the daunting reality of growing up, and losing your family spread across the continent as your royal profile rises, you learn power comes at a price.

Notes: and finally I'm writing again! I hit a little writing rut and was afraid this would be a filler chapter but every chapter is important and drives the story forward. I hope you enjoy it and please comment & send lots of love and feedback. Thanks!

“—it seemed as if she could dream her life away in such luxury of pensiveness, in which she made her present all in all, from not daring to think of the past, or wishing to contemplate the future.”

― Elizabeth Gaskell, North & South

Crowds cheered as they assembled in droves by the dock, a cloudy, gloomy early September day as your family embarked on the royal yacht the English sent on their behalf called the Victoria and Albert. Hearing your national anthem sung so proudly, you watched Alexandra tear up, moved by the patriotism of her people, and the anguish and grief of leaving her home country for her marriage.

As the boat left the coast, you all waved to your people before you began your hour long journey across the Baltic Sea, then crossing into the English Channel to make your way to your sister’s new motherland.

Feeling her frail, boney hands in yours, you clutch her tight towards yourself, an affirming, comforting squeeze to appease her nerves to the best of her ability. A gentle smile towards her, and she cannot help but mirror your expression, at ease knowing you were there for her.

Falling asleep in her arms, the flickering moonlight peaking through the blinds until you had arrived at Kent in broad daylight. The sun had risen, much earlier than it usually did in Copenhagen or even as far as Aarhus, and the crowds that gathered easily outnumbered the Danes back home. No wonder they said the sun never set in the British Empire, for in every corner of the Earth, touched their influence.

The weeks leading up to the toned down matrimonial service in St. George’s Chapel, cramped and paltry rather than the palatial Westminster Abbey out of the queen’s desire to remain in mourning for her late husband the Prince, and keep it an intimate, brief affair with only a minimal guest list and the most important individuals present only.

Whenever you were not busy socializing with the guests as part of the bride’s side of the family, ceremonial teas, brunches, dinners, fundraisers, rehearsals, dress fittings, you would drown yourself in your ink and parchment.

While your fiance explored Italy, Greece, before making his way to France to join his mother, you wrote to him daily, reaffirming the love you had for him even from a distance, worryingly asking if he still felt the same even after time apart, which he was glad to silence and quiet with his sweet, honeyed promises.

"You tell me that I hold the happiness of a certain person in my hands", she wrote to Timothee. "If that is true, then his happiness is assured forever… this person loves me tenderly, and I love him in return, and that will be my happiness… you can be certain that I love you more than I ever can say"

Setting aside your quilt and roll of parchment by your bedside, you tuck into bed, feeling your warm sheets against your feet and blow the candle before you fall into the sweet embrace of slumber and nightly rest.

…

Blurry visions that you struggle to make sight off plague your peripheral vision. Arrived in haste with tired feet, you are drawn into a crowded, drawy bedroom in an unknown location, surrounded by pitiful murmurings, and ravaged sobbing.

The hastily yet pompously dressed congregations parts for you to make through, the dim light shining down of what appears to be your dear Timothee in his bed, heavily weakened in his pale complexion, teary eyes, and swollen phalanges, looking dreamlike and angelic in his off-white cream blouse stained with sweat and droplets of blood from his throat and nose.

Beside him stood his mother, looking frailer than ever, barely hanging on in her angular, emaciated form, tight fingers gripping on her son so taut as if he was to fade away right in front of her.

Across from Timothee on the bed that stood in the centre of the bedroom was his younger brother, the Grand Duke Alexander, tall and muscular as he crouched down and wept into his brother’s shoulder with no restraint.

Hearing you approach with hesitant footsteps, both mother and son look up at you with mirroring images of dismal grief and wracked desperation. In his blissful serenity, intoxicated by the morphine and painkillers prescribed hopelessly by his throng of doctors that gathered from all over Europe, Timothee manages a faint, yet reassured beam.

“How beautiful is she my Dagmar, right Mother?” He croaks, and as if on cue, his mother bursts into screeched wailing into her son’s arms.

Feeling your own tears brim, you shake your head profusely, in denial that he was slipping from your grasp, that life was to leave him.

“We have done all that we could, Your Royal Highness. We had mistaken his symptoms of fatigue, back pain and sensitivity to light for rheumatism but it was not so. He is suffering with cerebro-spinal meningitis, and we had taken too long to discover it that it has spread up to His Imperial Highness’ brain and spine. We are truly sorry, Your Royal Highness.” The jittery, trembling voice of the grey-haired, eccentrically mustached doctor only felt like daggers that went through your heart.

Taking your hand into his, as unsteady and frigid as it was to your sweltering own in the height of the summer heat, Timothee gathers all of his strength to join your palms into his brother Alexander’s much larger hands, settling it adamantly against his chest, skeletal and bony from the weight he had lost in rapid succession.

“Pug, Sasha- when I am to pass, you must fulfill not only my responsibility to Russia, as Tsar- but to my Dagmar. You must take her hand when I am no longer on this Earth. You must-promise me.” He whispers before he is interrupted by a gruesome cough, his phlegm laced with nasty infected mucous and porous blood.

Sasha defiantly refuses incipiently, begging implorably and insisting that his episode of illness will pass, that he will live to walk down the aisle to make you his wife, and rule Imperial Russia as Tsar, but his hope dimmed by the second.

As Timothee makes his last breath, a single tear flows down his cheeks, and you are overwhelmed with grief that weighs on your chest and entire being. Embracing him so securely your knuckles turned white and your chest pressed firmly against him as you vociferously wail above the similar sounds of the flock that huddled around you.

His mother Maria Alexandrovna and the silhouette of who appears to be his father the Tsar Alexander II, whom you have barely met and only recognized from portraits and sparse carte-de-visites, clamber to clumsily pull you off from his lifeless form, overcome with their own grief.

The seconds become hours, then days, to weeks and months that fade into one that time becomes incomprehensible. Falling in and out of sleep as you are in a daze that cannot be broken, rotting and melting into your bedsheets, refusing to wear anything but black, clothes fitting too loosely as you become so slim, so frail in your mourning that everyone in the royal circle worried about you. If only you could wake up from such bereavement, such melancholy-

You abruptly sit up from your bed, drenched in sweat and salty tears that trickled down into your collarbones and chest. Your laced chemise clung to your skin as you had dramatically pushed away your jacquard duvet in your restless dream.

Hearing your heartbeat thump so loudly against your ribcage that you can hear it vibrate against your eardrums, you wipe away the tears and perspiration that smothered you in such a dreadful, compelling dream that was all of your fears coming to the surface.

Calming and soothing yourself as you wrapped your arms around your knees, reminding yourself that it was only a dream, only your subconscious that has been overwhelmed and exhausted from the events that had been preoccupying you in a foreign country that gave you an insight on the future that could await you.

Striding away covertly into the quiet, yet well furnished kitchen in the cottage your family was to remain in before your return to Copenhagen, Dagmar reaches shakily for a glass bottle of water and pours into a small glass for herself.

Gulping, pouring the cool water down your parched throat gives you slight but much needed relief from your state of desperation and skittishness. Pondering in the darkness with nothing but a miniature lighted candle in hand, you bite away trivial tears before you pour another glass for yourself.

You do your best to return back to slumber in your mattress, but it is never to the same depth and comfort as before your dream. You fear you will never sleep the same again, if your dreams could become so severe, so ghastly that it will spill into your waking life.

…

Queen Victoria requests for your presence after an early supper and horseback riding race down the track in Balmoral Castle.

You winced as you falteringly trodded towards her office accompanied by a trusted Scottish companion of hers who had been personally sent for your company and speak with her alone.

Ruffling your unruly curls that had been flying freely as you rid your stallion and beat the Queen’s second son Prince Alfred, the Duke of Edinburgh closely, before being scolded by one of the senior officials present for your lack of protocol due to your dearth of a riding hat that proper ladies, and more especially, royal princesses were supposed to adorn.

“Her Royal Highness Princess Dagmar of Denmark, Your Majesty.” The royal herald announces your arrival as you stand rigidly by the gold engraved cream door, fiddling with the smooth cloth of your hoop skirt anxiously.

“Let her in, and shut the door. I would like to speak to her alone.” As her quiet yet profoundly dignified voice echoes in the room, her thrush of servants and maids leave the room promptly, before the door is shut emphatically behind you.

“Come my dear, you stand there as if I would bite you.” Queen Victoria jests, as you stare at her with round, frightened eyes before you curtsey hastily and make your way across her oak desk.

“Your Majesty, it is an honour to be in your presence and to be requested for a private audience with our dear Queen. to what do I owe the pleasure?” Looking up from your feet, you glance politely before you speak in a rehearsed tone, your hands folded closely in front of you.

A glimmer passes by the elderly Queen’s ostensibly expressionless round, plump face, her silver and grey hair sticking through her signature onyx hued velvet fascinator pinned to the top of her head. You gulp nervously as if you were scolded as a child once more.

“It has come to my attention that my second son, Alfred, has claimed you as an object of his fancy. He finds you very pleasing, pretty and fascinating enough that he would very much desire to request for your hand in marriage. I am not opposed to such a match, as much as I do not fondly look forward to another Danish match in our family. However, it would work fabulously well in which you could live in a household close to your sister.” She challenges you almost pointedly, and you balance in your head how to manage not to offend such a demanding, prideful yet protective matron figure.

“I am warmly grateful that Her Majesty believes me to be as equally worthy a marriage prospect into the House of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha as my dear sister Alexandra, but I regret to inform you that I am already bethrothed to the Tsesarevich Timothee of Russia, Your Majesty.” You reply as a matter-of-factly.

Staring at you with a knowing smirk, as if you had passed the test she had set up so dramatically for you to possibly falter, but impressed with your wit in the abridged bantering she had with you.

“I am aware of those events, and I am sure Alred is no fool to be unaware either, but you must answer me honestly. If the Tsesarevich had not asked for your hand in marriage, would you have considered his?”

You pause, deep in thought as you weighed your probabilities. Alfred was not anything close to a looker, sharing the same hooded, heavy blue Saxe-Coburg saucers that looked almost forlorn, permanently sleepy. He had been kind and slightly teasing in the faint encounter you had with him in the tracks, but not enough to judge his character accurately.

“I would always take the time in getting to know and familiarize myself with his character before I would accept any proposals of matrimony, Your Majesty. I will speak genuinely in that I do not believe in a love in first sight, especially for a minor Princess of my standing, where marriage can make or break my future. His Royal Highness is a great man who will do many great things, but I believe that I am not fated to be his lifelong companion and he will meet his match in due time. I adore and cherish my sister entirely, fully, more than myself but I do not wish to live under her shadow either, your Majesty.”

“You prideful, insolent girl! I had always known you were more intelligent, more spirited than your sister, but never to this degree.” You gulped nervously as her voice raised in pitch, leaving you aghast how such a petite woman could control the room with so little on her part.

“I admire your strength, little Dagmar. You will need that vitality, that backbone if you are to survive in the chaos that is Imperial Russia and all that is Saint Petersburg. You remind me of myself in my youth, that drive, that determination to break out of the family that had coddled and sheltered you. I pity, no- I fear the man who is to marry you, dear. You are a woman that cannot be tamed, cannot be controlled.” Queen Victoria smiles beratingly with a slight chuckle at you, shaking her head and you cannot help but mirror her grin.

…

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pocketfullofnerdybby · 8 months

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IV. Guided By The Stars

MATURE CONTENT! ONLY 18+

Bucky's POV:

It had been a few days since her comment about her weight set me off. Honestly, did she think that little of herself, that she didn't think she was worthy of being loved by someone because of how she looked?

Thinking about it, the look in her eyes, the way her features seemed to steel over, it made me think that she actually believed what she was saying. My god it drove me nuts thinking that she believed that. Although I'd never admit this out loud, I'd let her walk all over me because she was worth it. When she smiles, everything around me stops, and the only thing that I can coherently think of is how her lips would feel against mine. How they would mold to mine, and how she probably tasted so sweet. Like the nectar that attracts the bees to a flower.

She was my flower, and I was the bee that would always keep coming back for that sweet nectar. That's why it enraged me to walk into the cabin and see my father's filthy hand on her supple skin. It made my stomach lurch at the thought of anyone leaving a mark on her. Which was why I threatened to have any of my men drawn and quartered if they so much as left a mark on her when they brought her here on the ship during the plunder

I can still recall the fury that had spiraled in the pit of my stomach, swirling around like the thick smoke rising from the bowels of hell. The way he sneered at her, and how afraid she looked. Father or not, I was ready to kill him for touching her. I really didn't care if the crew called for mutiny at that point. No one was going to touch her but me.

The last three days had gone rather well if I was being honest. She had come up on deck a few times during the course of our travels. She started asking questions, some about the places we've been, and how one becomes a pirate. To be honest, she was drawing out more feelings and memories I had kept locked away for the longest time. Afraid that if I even so much as tried to think about them, I'd never be able to lock them back away.

With her, everything just felt at ease and natural. It made me almost feel bad for having to take the route I did to get her here. Almost.

As I stood on the upper deck, tossing directives to the crew in order for us to dock at the next town, I see a figure move out of the corner of my eye. I turn my head to watch as she slowly came up from the cabins, and gradually found her way to the side railing, standing there as the salty breeze played with the tendrils of her hair, letting them dance in the rays of sun.

I shake my head, trying to push down the newfound feelings that were creeping up along my spine. Just as the thought of going to join her makes its way into my mind, Steve stands beside me, his head turned up to the sun, enjoying the warmth on his face.

"You know, if you stare any harder at her, you might burn a hole through her skirts or something." Steve says nonchalantly, not moving his head. I take a moment and clear my throat, it having gone dry again at the sight of her.

"I was just thinking that she looks overly warm at the moment. Her face seems a little red, does it not?" I ask, praying that he doesn't comment any further at the apparent starting problem I've developed since meeting her.

"Maybe?" he says, now turning to look in her direction.

"Now that you bring it up, she does look a little flushed." Steve agrees.

"I think there is a lighter skirt somewhere. I'm certain it will make her feel a lot more comfortable to be in something else bulky. I'll take a look." I say, turning to start towards the cabins, turning to Steve, "Keep an eye out for her, for me please?" I ask, already knowing that he would.

"Sure!" he says, leaning forward on the rail looking down on the main deck. I turn and go towards my cabin, and open up a trunk, looking through it to find what I was hoping was still there, and that none of the whores my father had taken, got to it. After digging further down, I finally find it. With the skirt draped over my arm, I head back to the deck, giving Steve a nod to let him know I was back, continuing my way over to her.

She seemed lost in thought, as she didn't turn when I stood beside her. I cleared my throat, hence making her jump with a startled noise, that I found to be the sweetest sound I could have possibly heard. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. You were deep in thought, and figured if I put a hand on your shoulder, you would have jumped worse." I told her, offering an apologetic half smile.

As her eyes traveled up to mine, my throat felt suddenly parched, and I made an attempt to lick my lips. She tilted her head to the side as her eyes pierced into mine, a whirlwind of emotions swirling in them that I couldn't quite place. After what felt like an eternity, I remembered about the skirt I had over my arm, and motioned towards her with it.

"I um.. I figured you might like to wear something that wasn't so hot. So umm.. here is a lighter skirt." I finish, handing it out to her.

She looked down at the skirt, and her hand reached out to touch the material. Her fingers traced over the folds of the fabric, skimming across it. She made some soft sound at the feel of it, and that sound reverberated deep throughout my body. I wanted to hear more of the sounds that she could make, especially if my fingers did the same to her skin as she was doing to the material. In fact, it wasn't just my fingers that wanted to draw out those delicious sounds, but my whole existence. The sudden flashes of having her underneath me, as my hands and lips trail over her body, was making it hard for me to stand still, suddenly remembering that I was standing in front of her.

"Thank you!" she whispered, her voice soft and suddenly shy. It made me want her all the more. Before my body could betray me, I start to turn and walk away.

"You're welcome!" I said over my shoulder, stalking back to where Steve stood, pretending not to have watched that.

"Don't try to be coy, Steve. I know you saw that whole interaction. I'm going to head into town when we dock. Please keep an eye on her, and don't let her wander!" I told him, before heading to my cabin with the hopes of trying to calm down.

~~~~A few hours later~~~~~

When we finally docked, I didn't really want to stick around on the ship, so I did what I needed to, and immediately took off into town. I walked for a bit before coming up to this tavern. I paused for a moment, thinking that a drink or two probably wouldn't hurt, and maybe, just maybe, it would help me get her out of my thoughts for a bit. She had such a hold on me already, it was unnerving.

I walked into the tavern and scanned over the establishment, looking for a seat. I finally set eyes on an empty table, and make my way towards it. As I sit down, this busty blonde barmaid comes up to the table, not really looking at me at first, and asks me for my order. "Just a tankard of ale please." I say, and it was then that she looked up at me.

I could see it in her eyes, and the way her body language changed. She parted her lips to say something, but nodded instead and turned to get my order. She came back not only with the tankard that I asked for, but some bread and meats as well. "Compliments of the cook!" she says, setting the tankard down along with the plate of food.

I know damn well that the cook didn't send out the plate, but I didn't want to be rude. Once she set them down, she turned to walk back to the counter to fill the other waiting orders, but not before she turned to give me a look that could only be described as bedroom eyes. I really wasn't interested in another conquest, at least not the barmaid. My body responds involuntarily to the thought of her, as I take a drink of my ale. I put the tankard down, giving my head a light shake.

I had a woman here in front of me that pretty much was begging me to have my way with her, but my thoughts kept going back to the ship, so much so wondering what she was doing. After a few drinks later, the tavern started to get lively, as music started to play, yet I remained in my spot. I'll give the barmaid credit. She became increasingly bolder with every drink I had.

At one point, she had placed what was going to be my final drink on the table and decided it was the right time to full on make her advancement. Taking her chance, she trails her hand up and down my arm, lingering over my bicep a moment. I turn to look at her hand on my arm, and follow her movements as they snake down my chest, to the hem of my pants, dancing over my abdomen, making my mouth go dry.

As I look up her arm, to see her face, I try to wet my lips by running my tongue over them, which doesn't work so I take a drink from the tankard instead.

"If you are free tonight, Captain, I'm done in an hour. You can show me how you would plunder me?" She asks, in a very overly sweet tone that suddenly made me feel nauseous, as her hand didn't leave my abdomen. Before I could say anything, something pulls my gaze over to the middle of the room. My eyes landed on her, and I could tell by the way her body was tense, she had seen everything.

Even before I could react, I saw her cheeks flush, as she turned to practically run out of the tavern. Grabbing hold of the barmaid's arms, I forcefully moved her out of my way, trying to make my way to her, scanning over the faces of the crowd. I see her weaving her way through the crowd, frantic to leave. I moved a bit faster, reaching her before she could put her hand on the door knob, pulling her back towards me. I turn her around and force her to look up at me, staring deep into her eyes.

As she started to pull her body away from me, I grip her arms to try and hold her still, saying her name over and over, panic lacing through me the entire time.

After repeatedly trying to get her to listen to me, one of her arms broke the hold I had on her and I heard it before I felt it. I was dumbfounded. The sudden rush of heat where her hand had made contact spread like wildfire over my cheek. In disbelief I dropped my hold on her arm, my hand going straight to my cheek that now stung. I watched as she stumbled backwards a few steps, and turned to leave out the door. My eyes widened as she crashed directly into my father who stood directly behind her.

I watched as he looked down at her, pushing her away from him, but again holding her by her arm. He turned to look at me, the features on his face darkened and dripped disgust and contempt off of them. Shoving her towards me, so that she trips into my arms, his next words were fueled by drink and hate, slurred yet commanding. "Get her to the ship now. We're leaving!" as he turned to stumble out of the tavern.

Shame washing over me, I bow my head, and take her hand in mine, trying to interlock our fingers together, but she snatches her hand away with a grunt of anger, which causes me to grab her arm in the same fashion my father had just done, and starts to lead her back to the ship. With my head poised, I continue walking the trek back to the ship, feeling some resistance along the way as she falters, struggling to keep up with me.

At this point, being livid from both the slap and the embarrassment, I stop, turn around and throw her over my shoulder, trying to ignore the gasp that escapes her that sends jolts down to my groin, causing me to hold on to her tighter. As I continued along to the ship, I felt her beating against my back, not helping my temper. I let this continue on for a few more moments, finally having had enough.

She wants my attention? She's got it now. Without missing a step, my hand makes perfect contact with the contour of her ass, letting out a loud crack as it lands. The sting in my hand distracts me from what I just did, and dampens the lust that was running in my veins. "Let's just call that payback for the slap you gave me, pet. Next time I won't be so gentle with it!" I warn her, my voice dripping with a reined in darkness, even I didn't know I had.

I made the rest of the walk back to the ship, and strode across the deck, not looking at any of the crew and their questioning eyes, and strode directly to the cabins. I kicked open the door, marching right to the bed, throwing her down on it. I stifled a groan watching her body bounce as it made contact with the mattress. "Don't move, and don't TOUCH anything!" I growled at her before spinning around, leaving the room. As I slammed the cabin door and locked it, I turned and slumped down the length of it. I could hear her muffled sobs, which I could only presume was she was crying into the pillows.

I truthfully hated making her cry. It tore at me because all I wanted to do was wipe those tears away. To kiss every drop from her eyes until I could make her smile. But it was killing me that I was the reason she was crying... again. I missed her laugh. The way it made my breath hitch. The way her eyes lit up, and her cheeks flushed pink. I let out a sigh. I don't even recall how long I've been sitting there for but I can no longer hear her sobs, so I think she fell asleep. With that I get up and go to direct the crew on getting ready to set sail.

~~Later that night~~

I worked myself helping the crew prepare to set sail until I was beyond tired. Even when we were a sail, I continued to find what I could in order to work off the built up anger and sexual frustration I was feeling. As I continued to work, the heat beat down on my back, until I removed my shirt, letting the sun kiss my well worn skin. I tried not to think back to the way her ass felt when I smacked it, but it's like my mind had a mind of its own and wanted to torture me, recalling how it felt under my palm.

Even my cheek recalled how her hand felt on my skin, not helping the frustration any at all. I continued spooling the ropes for the sails until I could feel the muscles in my shoulders and arms burn. The setting sun drew my attention at the vibrant colors that cascaded throughout the sky. Taking a deep breath, I tossed aside the spooled up ropes and took a seat on the deck, letting the breeze from the sea cool the sweat on my skin.

I closed my eyes, listening to the sound of the water lapping against the side of the boat, and the seagulls call out during their flight. The crew were scattered leaving the deck almost in quiet serenity.

Suddenly I'm standing on the deck, facing out to the sea, wishing to be anywhere but in the hell that has been my life since ma passed. I felt her before I could see her. Her presence always had my skin prickling in anticipation whenever she was close by.

I didn't turn around just yet, staring at the sea a while longer. The touch of her hand on my shoulder instantly gave me goosebumps as I slowly turned to face her. My eyes started at the floor, traveled up her body slowly, as I watched her chest rise and fall with steady but deep breaths, almost like she was trying to control her breathing. I drag my eyes up further, scanning her neck as I notice that while she was trying to control her breathing, her pulse was saying something different. I continued up to her delectable lips that slowly parted as I continued my gaze up to her eyes.

There, I could see again a storm of emotions running through them, as they locked onto mine. As if on its own, my arm reaches out, letting my fingers gently trace along her jaw, until my hand is able to cup the back of her head, pulling her close to me, while tilting her head up to not break eye contact. "Bucky... " she whispers, my name sounding like my own personal oasis coming from her lips.

"It's ok, pet. I'll be gentle with you." I murmur back to her, my head slowly tilting forward, my eyes dropping down to her lips.

Before she could respond, I tugged her closer, my free hand finding its home on her hip, as my other hand brought her face closer to mine, our lips meeting with a spark of electricity, before completely crashing together.

The kiss was anything but quick, as the heat from the spark traveled through me, threatening to consume everything in its path. Her lips felt soft, and tasted like sweet fruits and honey. Emboldened by the kiss, my tongue darts out and sweeps along her bottom one, begging for refuge. Reading my intentions, her lips open up, as my tongue finds her in a half hearted attempt for dominance.

While our lips were busy, I molded her body to mine, letting her feel every fiber of my existence, and how each movement I make feels against her body. Pressing into her, she lets out a low guttural moan against my lips, spurring me on. The hand that was on her hip travels to the hem of her skirt, hiking them up, while spinning her around so her ass is pressed up against the railing. Breaking from the kiss, both of us panting with need, I drop to my knees in front of her.

As I looked up at her, her eyes hooded with emotions that fueled the lust in my veins as she stared down at me. Without another word, I dipped under her skirts, to find probably the greatest treasure I have found to date. I put one of her legs over my shoulder as I pressed forward, my tongue finding her most sensitive spot.

I can tell that I'm doing something right as I'm rewarded with a gasp that encourages me to keep going. I hold her hips in place as I continue to lick her folds, randomly teasing her by licking her sensitive bud. Each time I did, her hips bucked towards my mouth, making me want more.

I take one finger, and trace the folds, as I smirk at how wet she already was for me. "This is all because of me, pet?" I ask her, already knowing the answer.

All she can do is let out a hum. I chuckle softly before returning to my task at hand. I put her other leg over my shoulder and continued to eat like a starved man. Her hips move to get more friction against my tongue, as I lap everything that she is giving me. I can tell by her breathing that she's getting close. Pulling away slightly I murmur loud enough for her to hear.

"That's it my angel, come undone for me!"

I could feel that she was getting closer, so I took my thumb and started to rub her clit as I suck and licked her juices. After a few moments more, I feel her go rigid, as I am rewarded with her orgasm drenching my face. As I stand up again, in front of her, I spin her around and place her hands on the railing. "You are not to move your hands from that railing, no matter what. Do you understand?" I ask her. She looks back over her shoulder at me and nods. I hike up her skirts, and undid my pants.

"Use your words, my angel. Are you ready?" I ask her, need dripping from the tip.

"Y-yes, Jamie!" she says, the pet name she calls me pushing me over the edge. With one motion, I thrust hard and deep into her, until I'm completely sheathed in her.

I let out a low and animalistic groan and how tight and wet she was. "Fuck!" I grind out between clenched teeth.

"Please Jamie," she says, catching my attention. That was all I needed as I started to increase my pace and thrust harder into her. Every thrust draws out a whimper from her, feeling myself hit deep in her, making me lose my mind. I keep going for I don't know how long, feeling her clench around me every time she's close, which makes me slow down a bit to get her to relax and draw this out more.

She reaches back to grab my hip, and I end up smacking her ass, earning a yelp from her. "I said to keep your hands on the railing no matter what. Now I have to fuck you harder for disobeying my orders!" I growl low in her ear, pistoning my hips harder and faster.

At this point I don't know how much longer it is that I can hold on, as her muffled cries indicate that she's close to another orgasm. The sound of our skin slapping together pushes me towards my own release. With a few more thrusts, my hips falter as I let go and coat her insides with my cum. "I knew you would be amazing at plundering me!" she says.

As I looked down at her, it was no longer my sweet enchantress, but the whoring barmaid from the tavern. I pushed away from her and turned to see her standing behind me, hurt in her eyes, letting me know she saw everything.

"Wait..."

I bolted up from where I fell asleep, sweat coating my skin, looking down seeing I was sporting a raging hard on. "Fuck!" I muttered, getting up and heading to my cabin, hoping to wash away that dream. There was no chance of me getting more sleep tonight, so I settled in with a book and prepared for a long night.

________________________________________________________________________________

Your POV:

It had been a couple of days since the incident in the tavern, and since you had received the smack on your ass. You don't know why you reacted that way to seeing Bucky with the barmaid. You had no claims over him, and clearly, he was free to do as he pleased, and who he pleased.

The only reason why he brought you back to the ship was because of his father. If you had been able to get away, you were pretty sure he would have gone back to that stupid wench and slept with her. You ran your hand through your hair, picking it up off your neck and letting the breeze cool off the sweat. Other than being able to feel the smack on your ass, you were kind of grateful at not sweating to death in the heavy skirts you had been wearing when you came on the ship.

It was nice of Bucky to do that, even though he wasn't obligated to do so. You groan in confusion. Why are you teetering on this, when there clearly isn't anything to teeter on, especially not on his end. He only was being polite with the skirt. And he clearly was only talking out of his ass when he said about real men loving women with curves.

You huff out a breath in exasperation at that. Clearly he enjoys blonde barmaids that will be willing to let him bed them. Throwing your arm down in frustration, you started pacing along the floorboards. You debated with yourself as to whether you should go find Bucky and apologize for reacting that way. But then again, you don't want him to think that there is something more coming from your end.

Wait? Is there? Did you react that way because you were jealous? Why were you jealous? He's your captor for crying out loud! Actually come to think about it, you hadn't seen Bucky since he locked you in here a few days ago. You hadn't seen anyone except Steve, who would come to the cabin and bring you food. Eventually the door was no longer being locked, and you would try your luck by stepping out onto the deck to get some fresh air and sun.

Steve would come and find you while you were on the deck and would keep you company. He never brought up Bucky, nor did you ask. You were in a way, too ashamed of your behavior to even fathom inquiring about him. That was, until the fourth day.

"You know, he doesn't always have a choice in the things that he does." he says, randomly.

"Who?" You ask, fully aware of who he was talking about, but wanted to see if he'd say.

"Bucky." he clarifies.

"And why should I care about the things that he does? Did I care when he... " you started but trailed off, not wanting to bring that up.

"He can be, no he is a good guy. People don't give him a chance because of his father. People are afraid of his father. Hell! Bucky's afraid of turning into his father!" he says, quickly realizing the last part he said.

That caught your attention.

"Wait? He's afraid of turning into his father?" you ask.

Steve lets out a sigh. "He doesn't want to be cold towards anyone, especially not to you. I'm pretty sure he has a soft spot for you, but if you tell him I said that, I will deny it and make you walk the plank! Got it?" he says, a boyish smile on his face.

"I cross my heart!" you said, making the motion to show you were serious.

With that, Steve started to turn to leave. But before he did, he turned back and handed you a very tattered book. You look down at the cover and see it's a version of "Water babies".

"I figured you'd like something to keep you occupied." he says with a partial smile.

"Thank you Steve, that was nice of you!" you said, holding the book to your chest. You turned back to the cabin, the book in hand, and proceeded to sit by the window so you could read.

You don't know how much time had passed but the sun was starting to descend into the sea. You closed the book and set it down on the table. Just as you did, there was a knock on the door. Standing up, you walk over to the door and open it.

There stood Bucky, looking down at the floor, and you couldn't help the little "Oh" that escaped your lips.

"Bucky, what? What are you doing here? You don't normally knock, especially considering it's your ship." you say, curiosity taking a hold of you.

"Can you come with me please?" he asks, finally looking up at me and holding his hand out for you to take. You look at his hand with curiosity. After an internal debate, you take his hand and allow him to lead you out of the cabin.

"Where are we going?" you ask, looking from side to side as he led you up to the deck.

"Here." he says, coming to a stop.

You looked around and the entire deck was empty. There in the corner was a barrel that had been covered over with a sheet, and two crates to allow us to sit.

"Did you arrange this?" you ask, already knowing the answer.

"Please sit." he says, waiting for you to do so before he takes a seat himself.

He starts bringing out some bread, cheese and fruit, along with some cured meat, putting it all on a plate in front of us.

"I wanted to make sure you ate, and figured you would have slapped a plate out of my hands again if I brought it to you, so I figured I'd bring you to it."he says.

"Bucky, I ... " you started, but the words got stuck in your throat.

"It's ok, you don't have to say anything. In fact, it is I that should be saying something to you. I'm sorry for slapping your ass the other day. I ... I was still embarrassed and shocked that you slapped me. I'm not saying that I didn't deserve it, because what you saw, I... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you." he says, looking down at his hands. You couldn't believe it. You acted the way that you did and he was apologizing to you.

It made your eyes water at the fact that he was apologizing for everything it would appear, including your behavior. You reached across the makeshift table, to grab his hand. You realized then, that whenever there was skin to skin contact between you; you missed it until it happened again.

"Bucky, I need to apologize too. I was hoping that if I gained your trust, that I could escape. But when I saw you in that tavern, I didn't recognize who I was, and how I behaved. I should never have slapped you. I had no reason to behave like some jealous school girl. I have no claims on you, and you certainly don't owe me anything." you said, you turn to look down at your clasped hands.

Suddenly his hand leaves yours, and he's now kneeling in front of you. The same hand you were just holding, now tucked a finger under your chin, lifting your head to bring it up to look in his eyes.

"Pet, if you could only see what you're doing to me, you'd know that you have more claim to me than ever possible. You've laid claim to me even before I said my first words to you. I was captured by your beauty the very first time I saw you. I knew then that I had to be with you. I know I went about this the wrong way, taking you captive and all. And I'm sorry. I am. I'm sorry for everything. I just don't know how to be without you, now that I've had a taste of you being in my life." Bucky says, as his eyes hold yours, and you see nothing but pure and raw honesty in them.

"Really? But why me?" you asked, your voice sounding meek and soft.

"Why wouldn't it be you, my angel? Whenever I walk into a room and you're in it, my skin vibrates with anticipation. My heart beats so fast that I think it's going to burst out of my chest when I look at you. You've been on my mind non-stop, and if I'm being honest, I was wishing it was your hands that were all over me in that tavern, not the barmaid's." he said, and that admission made my eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

"But she... " you started, but was cut off by his lips softly molded to yours. You feel your eyes flutter shut as you lean in to the kiss. It wasn't at all how people describe their first kiss.

This was sweet, slow. Full of passion, but tenderness. Who knew Bucky had this side to him. His hand slowly makes its way to cup the back of your head, drawing you closer to him, deepening the kiss. You felt like you were drowning, but yet, you didn't want to be saved.

Softly, he pulls away, causing your eyes to flutter back open. You're met with blue eyes dancing with excitement, and you can't help but smile.

"I tried to imagine what kissing you would feel and taste like. It's safe to say, it was better than I'd ever imagined." he said, picking up your hand and brushing his lips over your knuckles. He sat back down, and offered you some fruit.

you both took your time eating, letting the sun finish its descent, as the stars started to dance and twinkle in the sky. As you ate, you talked, asking questions back and forth, getting to know each other better.

"What brought you into this life?" you ask, taking a bite of a sweet grape. You look at Bucky, and his face has an edge to it, like he's remembering something that he doesn't want to. It's a few seconds before he speaks again.

"When I was young, I lost my mother in childbirth with my sister." he starts, his words having a sobering effect on me. "My father couldn't handle losing the love of his life, and his child. The same day that we buried them, we left for sea. That's been the only thing I knew ever since" he finished. You were about to put a piece of bread to your lips, but put it back down onto the plate.

You went over to him, kneeling in front of him, clasping both of his hands in yours. You could feel your heart breaking for him.

"Bucky... I'm so sorry!" you whisper.

You lean down and brush your lips over his hands, feeling the tears that had formed spill where you had just kissed. With that, he sat up straight, pulling you to sit on his lap.

"It was a long time ago." he says, wrapping his arms around your waist.

"Doesn't mean it doesn't hurt any less." you counter.

"Where did the name Bucky come from?" you asked.

"My name is actually James Buchannan. My mom called me Bucky for short." he said.

"James.... " you said the name, testing it off your tongue.

"Jamie..." you whispered.

At that name, he inhaled deeply, and shifted a bit under you.

"Can I call you Jamie?" you asked, not knowing really how he'd take to that. He picks up your hand, turning it over and places a kiss on the inside of your palm.

"You can call me that when we are alone. But when we are around the crew and especially my father, please call me Bucky." he asks.

You spend several more hours talking and asking more questions.

Finally, when the night sky was completely dark, and all the stars were out, he picked you up off of his lap so he could stand up. He took your hand, interlocking your fingers together, bringing them up to his lips as you watched him intently. He guides you over to the helm of the ship, as you move in front of him, looking out over the vast sea.

He pulls you back close to him, so you're leaning against his chest, as he wraps an arm around your waist.

His other hand moves your hair away from your neck, as he leans down and softly brushes his lips over the sensitive spot, teasing as he lightly nips at it, making you gasp. You hear him chuckle at your reaction, and then feel his tongue softly swipe over the spot he bit. That action is definitely enough to make a low moan escape past your lips.

You feel Bucky's body tense, as he pulls you closer, you can feel the effect you have on him.

"Jamie... that... that feels really good." You whisper, turning your head a bit to try and look at him. His finger comes under your chin and guides your face up to meet his, his lips capturing yours, as he turns you to face him, never breaking the kiss, pushing you back against the rail.

He pulls away from the kiss and rests his forehead against yours.

"You're going to be the death of me, my pet." he says, his breath ragged. You couldn't help but giggle at that.

"Is the Pirate King falling for me?" You asked coyly.

"You have no idea." he smirks.

With that you turn back around, looking out over the sea, as you spend the rest of the night watching the stars, getting lost in each other's embrace.

Each action, guided by the stars until the sun starts to rise.

________________________________________________________________________________

Charlie's POV:

I suspected that my son was falling for that wench. His resolve was weakening, and he was becoming more like the man I used to be.

Head over heels for the love of my life.

But that was a life a long time ago, nothing similar to the life now. I didn't want my son to go through what I did, and that's why I was so hard on him. I figured if I was hard on him, it would keep him safe in a way. But she was threatening everything.

I watched as they stood at the helm of the ship, laughing and talking, pointing up at the stars. I heard him tell her about his mother, causing my heart to ache at the memory of the loss. I needed to do something, anything to keep him from being weak.

I knew what I would do.

Come the morning, she was going to earn her keep on this ship, and she was going to become the crew's plaything, whether my son liked it or not.

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jayceart · 3 years

Photo

Yubel really dressed him like that, huh

#yugioh gx #johan anderson #jesse anderson #ygogx #yugioh #gx #ygo #fanart #BRUH #ive still never drawn him facing forwards i-#sorry baby boy #youre always gonna be facing righht #always

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neil-gaiman · 3 years

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How Did you come up with the first eve in the story about adams wives? I haven’t been able to find anything about her after I read it and I want to know if she’s an actual biblical character or just someone you made

She's from the Midrash. I learned about her as a 12 year old, from my barmitzvah teacher. There was a point in there, long after I'd put her into Sandman, where I was starting to think I'd imagined her, when I ran across her in Robert Graves's Hebrew Myths....

Excerpt from: The Hebrew Myths by Robert Graves and Raphael Patai (New York: Doubleday, 1964), pp 65-69

Chapter 10: Adam's Helpmeets

(a) Having decided to give Adam a helpmeet lest he should be alone of his kind, God put him into a deep sleep, removed one of his ribs, formed it into a woman, and closed up the wound, Adam awoke and said: 'This being shall be named "Woman", because she has been taken out of man. A man and a woman shall be one flesh.' The title he gave her was Eve, 'the Mother of All Living''. [1]

(b) Some say that God created man and woman in His own image on the Sixth Day, giving them charge over the world; [2] but that Eve did not yet exist. Now, God had set Adam to name every beast, bird and other living thing. When they passed before him in pairs, male and female, Adam-being already like a twenty-year-old man-felt jealous of their loves, and though he tried coupling with each female in turn, found no satisfaction in the act. He therefore cried: 'Every creature but I has a proper mate', and prayed God would remedy this injustice. [3]

(c) God then formed Lilith, the first woman, just as He had formed Adam, except that He used filth and sediment instead of pure dust. From Adam's union with this demoness, and with another like her named Naamah, Tubal Cain's sister, sprang Asmodeus and innumerable demons that still plague mankind. Many generations later, Lilith and Naamah came to Solomon's judgement seat, disguised as harlots of Jerusalem'. [4]

(d) Adam and Lilith never found peace together; for when he wished to lie with her, she took offence at the recumbent posture he demanded. 'Why must I lie beneath you?' she asked. 'I also was made from dust, and am therefore your equal.' Because Adam tried to compel her obedience by force, Lilith, in a rage, uttered the magic name of God, rose into the air and left him.

Adam complained to God: 'I have been deserted by my helpmeet' God at once sent the angels Senoy, Sansenoy and Semangelof to fetch Lilith back. They found her beside the Red Sea, a region abounding in lascivious demons, to whom she bore lilim at the rate of more than one hundred a day. 'Return to Adam without delay,' the angels said, `or we will drown you!' Lilith asked: `How can I return to Adam and live like an honest housewife, after my stay beside the Red Sea?? 'It will be death to refuse!' they answered. `How can I die,' Lilith asked again, `when God has ordered me to take charge of all newborn children: boys up to the eighth day of life, that of circumcision; girls up to the twentieth day. None the less, if ever I see your three names or likenesses displayed in an amulet above a newborn child, I promise to spare it.' To this they agreed; but God punished Lilith by making one hundred of her demon children perish daily; [5] and if she could not destroy a human infant, because of the angelic amulet, she would spitefully turn against her own. [6]

(e) Some say that Lilith ruled as queen in Zmargad, and again in Sheba; and was the demoness who destroyed job's sons. [7] Yet she escaped the curse of death which overtook Adam, since they had parted long before the Fall. Lilith and Naamah not only strangle infants but also seduce dreaming men, any one of whom, sleeping alone, may become their victim. [8]

(f) Undismayed by His failure to give Adam a suitable helpmeet, God tried again, and let him watch while he built up a woman's anatomy: using bones, tissues, muscles, blood and glandular secretions, then covering the whole with skin and adding tufts of hair in places. The sight caused Adam such disgust that even when this woman, the First Eve, stood there in her full beauty, he felt an invincible repugnance. God knew that He had failed once more, and took the First Eve away. Where she went, nobody knows for certain. [9]

(g) God tried a third time, and acted more circumspectly. Having taken a rib from Adam's side in his sleep, He formed it into a woman; then plaited her hair and adorned her, like a bride, with twenty-four pieces of jewellery, before waking him. Adam was entranced. [10]

(h) Some say that God created Eve not from Adam's rib, but from a tail ending in a sting which had been part of his body. God cut this off, and the stump-now a useless coccyx-is still carried by Adam's descendants. [11]

(i) Others say that God's original thought had been to create two human beings, male and female; but instead He designed a single one with a male face looking forward, and a female face looking back. Again He changed His mind, removed Adam's backward-looking face, and built a woman's body for it. [12]

(j) Still others hold that Adam was originally created as an androgyne of male and female bodies joined back to back. Since this posture made locomotion difficult, and conversation awkward, God divided the androgyne and gave each half a new rear. These separate beings He placed in Eden, forbidding them to couple. [13]

Notes on sources:

1. Genesis II. 18-25; III. 20.

2. Genesis I. 26-28.

3. Gen. Rab. 17.4; B. Yebamot 632.

4. Yalqut Reubeni ad. Gen. II. 21; IV. 8.

5. Alpha Beta diBen Sira, 47; Gaster, MGWJ, 29 (1880), 553 ff.

6. Num. Rab. 16.25.

7. Targum ad job 1. 15.

8. B. Shabbat 151b; Ginzberg, LJ, V. 147-48.

9. Gen. Rab. 158, 163-64; Mid. Abkir 133, 135; Abot diR. Nathan 24; B. Sanhedrin 39a.

10. Gen. II. 21-22; Gen. Rab. 161.

11. Gen. Rab. 134; B. Erubin 18a.

12. B. Erubin 18a.

13. Gen. Rab. 55; Lev. Rab. 14.1: Abot diR. Nathan 1.8; B. Berakhot 61a; B. Erubin 18a; Tanhuma Tazri'a 1; Yalchut Gen. 20; Tanh. Buber iii.33; Mid. Tehillim 139, 529.

Authors’ Comments on the Myth:

1. The tradition that man's first sexual intercourse was with animals, not women, may be due to the widely spread practice of bestiality among herdsmen of the Middle East, which is still condoned by custom, although figuring three times in the Pentateuch as a capital crime. In the Akkadian Gilgamesh Epic, Enkidu is said to have lived with gazelles and jostled other wild beasts at the watering place, until civilized by Aruru's priestess. Having enjoyed her embraces for six days and seven nights, he wished to rejoin the wild beasts but, to his surprise, they fled from him. Enkidu then knew that he had gained understanding, and the priestess said: 'Thou art wise, Enkidu, like unto a godl'

2. Primeval man was held by the Babylonians to have been androgynous. Thus the Gilgamesh Epic gives Enkidu androgynous features: `the hair of his head like a woman's, with locks that sprout like those of Nisaba, the Grain-goddess.' The Hebrew tradition evidently derives from Greek sources, because both terms used in a Tannaitic midrash to describe the bisexual Adam are Greek: androgynos, 'man-woman', and diprosopon, 'twofaced'. Philo of Alexandria, the Hellenistic philosopher and commentator on the Bible, contemporary with Jesus, held that man was at first bisexual; so did the Gnostics. This belief is clearly borrowed from Plato. Yet the myth of two bodies placed back to back may well have been founded on observation of Siamese twins, which are sometimes joined in this awkward manner. The two-faced Adam appears to be a fancy derived from coins or statues of Janus, the Roman New Year god.

3. Divergences between the Creation myths of Genesis r and n, which allow Lilith to be presumed as Adam's first mate, result from a careless weaving together of an early Judaean and a late priestly tradition. The older version contains the rib incident. Lilith typifies the Anath-worshipping Canaanite women, who were permitted pre-nuptial promiscuity. Time after time the prophets denounced Israelite women for following Canaanite practices; at first, apparently, with the priests' approval-since their habit of dedicating to God the fees thus earned is expressly forbidden in Deuteronomy xxIII. I8. Lilith's flight to the Red Sea recalls the ancient Hebrew view that water attracts demons. 'Tortured and rebellious demons' also found safe harbourage in Egypt. Thus Asmodeus, who had strangled Sarah's first six husbands, fled 'to the uttermost parts of Egypt' (Tobit viii. 3), when Tobias burned the heart and liver of a fish on their wedding night.

4. Lilith's bargain with the angels has its ritual counterpart in an apotropaic rite once performed in many Jewish communities. To protect the newborn child against Lilith-and especially a male, until he could be permanently safeguarded by circumcision-a ring was drawn with natron, or charcoal, on the wall of the birthroom, and inside it were written the words: 'Adam and Eve. Out, Lilith!' Also the names Senoy, Sansenoy and Semangelof (meanings uncertain) were inscribed on the door. If Lilith nevertheless succeeded in approaching the child and fondling him, he would laugh in his sleep. To avert danger, it was held wise to strike the sleeping child's lips with one finger-whereupon Lilith would vanish.

5. 'Lilith' is usually derived from the Babylonian-Assyrian word lilitu, ,a female demon, or wind-spirit'-one of a triad mentioned in Babylonian spells. But she appears earlier as 'Lillake' on a 2000 B.G. Sumerian tablet from Ur containing the tale of Gilgamesh and the Willow Tree. There she is a demoness dwelling in the trunk of a willow-tree tended by the Goddess Inanna (Anath) on the banks of the Euphrates. Popular Hebrew etymology seems to have derived 'Lilith' from layil, 'night'; and she therefore often appears as a hairy night-monster, as she also does in Arabian folklore. Solomon suspected the Queen of Sheba of being Lilith, because she had hairy legs. His judgement on the two harlots is recorded in I Kings III. 16 ff. According to Isaiah xxxiv. I4-I5, Lilith dwells among the desolate ruins in the Edomite Desert where satyrs (se'ir), reems, pelicans, owls, jackals, ostriches, arrow-snakes and kites keep her company.

6. Lilith's children are called lilim. In the Targum Yerushalmi, the priestly blessing of Numbers vi. 26 becomes: 'The Lord bless thee in all thy doings, and preserve thee from the Lilim!' The fourth-century A.D. commentator Hieronymus identified Lilith with the Greek Lamia, a Libyan queen deserted by Zeus, whom his wife Hera robbed of her children. She took revenge by robbing other women of theirs.

7. The Lamiae, who seduced sleeping men, sucked their blood and ate their flesh, as Lilith and her fellow-demonesses did, were also known as Empusae, 'forcers-in'; or Mormolyceia, 'frightening wolves'; and described as 'Children of Hecate'. A Hellenistic relief shows a naked Lamia straddling a traveller asleep on his back. It is characteristic of civilizations where women are treated as chattels that they must adopt the recumbent posture during intercourse, which Lilith refused. That Greek witches who worshipped Hecate favoured the superior posture, we know from Apuleius; and it occurs in early Sumerian representations of the sexual act, though not in the Hittite. Malinowski writes that Melanesian girls ridicule what they call `the missionary position', which demands that they should lie passive and recumbent.

8. Naamah, 'pleasant', is explained as meaning that 'the demoness sang pleasant songs to idols'. Zmargad suggest smaragdos, the semi-precious aquamarine; and may therefore be her submarine dwelling. A demon named Smaragos occurs in the Homeric Epigrams.

9. Eve's creation by God from Adam's rib-a myth establishing male supremacy and disguising Eve's divinity-lacks parallels in Mediterranean or early Middle-Eastern myth. The story perhaps derives iconotropically from an ancient relief, or painting, which showed the naked Goddess Anath poised in the air, watching her lover Mot murder his twin Aliyan; Mot (mistaken by the mythographer for Yahweh) was driving a curved dagger under Aliyan's fifth rib, not removing a sixth one. The familiar story is helped by a hidden pun on tsela, the Hebrew for 'rib': Eve, though designed to be Adam's helpmeet, proved to be a tsela, a 'stumbling', or 'misfortune'. Eve's formation from Adam's tail is an even more damaging myth; perhaps suggested by the birth of a child with a vestigial tail instead of a coccyx-a not infrequent occurrence.

10. The story of Lilith's escape to the East and of Adam's subsequent marriage to Eve may, however, record an early historical incident: nomad herdsmen, admitted into Lilith's Canaanite queendom as guests (see 16. 1), suddenly seize power and, when the royal household thereupon flees, occupy a second queendom which owes allegiance to the Hittite Goddess Heba.

The meaning of 'Eve' is disputed. Hawwah is explained in Genesis III. 20 as 'mother of all living'; but this may well be a Hebraicized form of the divine name Heba, Hebat, Khebat or Khiba. This goddess, wife of the Hittite Storm-god, is shown riding a lion in a rock-sculpture at Hattusaswhich equates her with Anath-and appears as a form of Ishtar in Hurrian texts. She was worshipped at Jerusalem (see 27. 6). Her Greek name was Hebe, Heracles's goddess-wife.

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seita · 4 years

Text

— haikyuu squirting.

includes: oikawa, iwaizumi, matsukawa, hanamaki, kunimi, + kyoutani.

p a r t o n e ;;

⤿ next: t w o

-ˋˏ aoba johsai ˎˊ-

— tooru oikawa.

≻ he has a goal to make you squirt ≻ he thinks it’s super hot and wants you to do it ≻ he honestly will experiment with it every time you have sex ≻ you won’t notice anything different ≻ but one day, he hits this spot inside you ≻ and you just explode and he’s elated ≻ and you’re like ??? ≻ he’s just like “ive been trying to make you do that for a week!!!” ≻ and then he continues on because he wants to bask in the fruits of his labors and make you squirt until you cry~

“c’mon baby,” he groans, working his fingers into your spasming cunt. you’re so tight, squeezing him like craze because you’re so close. and he knows your body’s signals like the back of his hand.

“fuck, tooru!” you sob, gripping his wrist with both hands as his fingers fuck your tender g-spot. his jaw as clenched as he watches you. he’s waiting, he can taste it on the tip of his tongue.

your whole body is tense and you’re trembling. your orgasm is so close, it’s dangling right over your head. the coil is taut and it’s growing painful. he continues to fuck his fingers into that sweet little spot that has you sobbing.

you look so beautiful like this, brows drawn together and mouth hanging open as your mind tries to comprehend the overwhelming pleasure he’s bringing you to. he finally brings his thumb to your clit, circling the bud in a few, slow strokes that finally send you flying over the edge.

you scream, thrashing against the bed as he continues to fuck you with his fingers. he nearly cums in his pants when you gush, your cum spraying all over him. he licks his lips, tasting your stray cum on his tongue as he does so. it makes his eyes roll back in his head.

and it isn’t long before you’re forcing his hand away from you, leaving you a trembling, panting mess on his bed.

“what...the fuck, tooru?” you gasp. he only grins in response.

— hajime iwaizumi.

≻ you’ll most likely be the one to bring it up to him ≻ he doesn’t actually quite know much about squirting ≻ he knows that it’s a thing ≻ but he doesn’t think it’s like...doable in real life ≻ he’s just like “oh yeah lmao that just exists in porn” ≻ so when you’re like can u do this-- ≻ he’s like huh? ≻ but he’s 4000% down and will give it his best shot ≻ it’ll take some trial and error ≻ because he has to learn the proper mechanics and angles to make it happen ≻ but when it does, he’s immediately addicted

you’re riding him, relishing in his praise as he caresses your pretty body.

“show me how you need it, pretty girl,” he whispers, “you’re gonna make a mess for me tonight, aren’t you?”

you desperately nod, nails digging into his forearms as you bounce. he groans, feeling you drip down his balls. he’s sure there’s a mess beneath him but he can’t be bothered to worry about it now because you’re clenching desperately around him.

“right there, daddy!” you cry, “right there, please! you’re go-gonna make me cum!”

he growls and flips you over, pinning your knees to your chest as he desperately fucks your cunt. you’re creaming so prettily around him that it’s driving him insane.

“play with your clit for me, princess,” he orders, following your hand as you find the bud and eagerly begin circling it.

he angles his thrusts for your g-spot, knowing that’ll be what sends you over. and it works like a charm. soon enough, you’re arching as you find release.

he doesn’t stop like he usually does, he replaces his fingers on your clit and continues to fuck into your spasming little cunt. just like he wanted, you begin gushing. you squirm, unable to escape his hold as he continues to fuck you until you’re made a complete mess for him.

— issei matsukawa.

≻ it’s completely accidental ≻ his dick is honestly just too fucking big ≻ that when you cum it’s explosive ≻ you always cum super hard for him when you’re stuffed full of his cock ≻ he honestly ADORES that you have such a fierce reaction to him ≻ it boosts his ego ≻ especially if you praise him while he makes you gush everywhere~

“you’re making such a slutty face,” he grins, watching as you arch your hips for more. he’s fucking you so well and it makes you lose your mind.

“i’m getting close,” you warn, making him arch a brow.

“i’ve only just started,” he teases, enjoying the look of humiliation that crosses your face at his words, “tell me you’re a whore for my cock and maybe i’ll let you cum.”

you break immediately, “i’m a whore for your cock, issei!” you cry, making him grin, “please, please only you can make me feel like this. only you can make me cum like this!”

“what a good little bitch i have,” he chuckles, speeding up his pace.

you can’t even take all of his cock but you continue to work your hips as if you could if you try hard enough. your eyes roll back in your head and you plead with him in babbled whimpers that absolutely drive him wild. he knows you’re dangling on the edge but you’re holding back because you’re his good girl. and he’s so proud of you so he decides to reward you.

“go on then, pretty girl,” he groans, “cream on my cock like a good little girl.”

except when you cum, it’s not like any of your previous orgasms. it’s wetter. and the more he fucks you, the wetter it gets until you’re absolutely gushing around him. after a few seconds, you push him away. when his cock pops out of your cunt, and you immediately squeal as you squirt all over him.

you’re still trembling by the time he works his cock back into your cunt. he grins, “did that feel good, pretty girl?” to which you nod, “good because you’re going to do that again and again until i’m satisfied.”

— takahiro hanamaki.

≻ he knows what it is and how to do it ≻ but he never actually executes it ≻ mostly because of the mess ≻ he’s not a huge fan of messes ≻ but if it’s something you want him to do ≻ it needs to be discusses before your um...session ≻ so that way he can put a towel down to minimize the mess ≻ he’s always pleased with the way you tremble and react so beautifully. ≻ he still doesn’t do it too often tho

the towel was growing wetter the longer he fucked you with his fingers. his spit, lube, and your own natural arousal only serving to make a complete mess. he was going slow, it was an agonizing place. switching between forceful thrusts against your g-spot and simply grinding the tips of his two fingers against it; it was only serving to drive you mad.

tears had long since started falling down your cheeks. he thought you looked prettiest like that; eyes red and pitiful little sniffles coming from you as you cried for more.

he knew what you wanted, what you needed. but he was content with torturing you. you were so cute when you were distraught and he couldn’t help but send you a boyish smile that made your face crumple in frustration. it was so easy to rile you up.

“want me to make you ucm now, sweet girl?” he coos, pulling his fingers from your cunt to playfully smack your neglected clit.

your thighs jump at the stimulation before nodding desperately. it didn’t take long for the desperate pleas that he had been waiting for to begin falling from your lips, “please daddy, please. i’ll do anything just please make me cum!”

he grins, “such pretty words,” he coos, nodding his head, “anything?”

“anything daddy please!” you cry and he groans in response.

“then make a mess for me, baby,” he orders, finally fucking your tight cunt the way you need to fall over the edge.

and you do so beautifully, gushing and squirting all over him. he groans at the sight of finally getting what he wanted. you tremble and sob just for him and he never wants to forget the sight of you falling apart perfectly for him all because of his fingers.

— kentaro kyoutani.

≻ he actually brings it up to you!!! ≻ but he knows that it’s a thing ≻ he just doesn’t know if it’s something you want to experiment with or not ≻ and he’s not willing to just do it and surprise you ≻ when you agree ≻ he goes feral ≻ he absolutely loves making a complete mess out of you ≻ he already does it well enough on his own ≻ but NOW there’s an actual...mess to clean up.

your face is buried in the pillow, muffling your sobs and cries of pleasure. his hand is pressed on the small of your back, making sure you’re presented just right for him.

he’s quiet as usual, short grunts and the occasional filth falling from his lips so perfectly, “so tight, you’re dripping.”

“only for you,” you promise breathlessly, making him grin. if you had seen it, you’d see the sadistic pleasure in it.

“that’s right, babygirl,” he groans when you clench around his cock at the sound of the petname.

you were so easy to read and so easy to satisfy. it drove him crazy. leaning over your body, he fisted your hair to keep you pinned as he began to piston into your pretty cunt, tearing cries of untold pleasure into the pillow.

he’s able to make out the warning for your impending orgasm and reaches beneath your body to find your clit. he slaps his fingers harshly against the bud. it’s the final action that sends you over the edge.

your body lurches forward, forcing his cock from your clamping cunt. he groans when he looks down to see you squirting everywhere. he rubs across your clit quickly, splattering your cum everywhere until you’re sobbing for him to stop.

“you’re such a sloppy little bitch,” he growls, forcing his cock back into your sensitive cunt.

— akira kunimi.

≻ another one who doesn’t try ≻ but it’s mostly out of laziness ≻ if you squirt, it’s gonna be 99% you 1% him ≻ he digs it tho ≻ he’ll make sure you know that he finds it really hot that you got yourself so worked up over his cock that you couldn’t help but make a mess!!

you’re bracing yourself on his shoulders as he holds your hips tightly. soft moans and cries of his name escape your lips as you ride him, his cock filling you up so perfectly while he doesn’t do anything. he lets you do as you please, merely helping you keep your balance along with occasionally cupping your pretty tits that bounce perfectly in his face.

“i’m gonna cum,” you gasp suddenly, shoving a hand between your thighs to circle your clit.

he nods, a lazy smile crossing his face, “yeah, baby, play with that pretty clit and cum for me.”

you whine, your head falling back as you sob through your pleasure. it comes in waves, making you tremble and cling to him as your high washes over you.

he curses, suddenly pounding into you from beneath you. you squeal, clawing at his shoulders as you gush around him, making a complete mess over his cock and abdomen.

he laughs as he falls limp, staring at the dripping cum you left all over him, “is my cock that good that you just make a huge fuckin’ mess? hm? i didn’t even have to do anything,” suddenly, he slaps your thigh, “keep riding me, want you to do that again.”

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

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mydearfantasy · 3 years

Text

When they’re insecure 🖤

Characters: Diluc & Albedo

Summary: You’ve been hanging out with someone close to them and they begin to doubt themselves

Genre: Angst to fluff

Part two with Razor and Bennet coming soon :)

DILUC

For a man of many qualities, he was sorely lacking in social skills

It was truly a blessing that he’d managed to land such a sweetheart as you, your relationship in its early infancy

Kind, caring, beautiful, beloved by all... by all...all... by the forever nuisance in his life, his dearest brother

Many a night he watched the two of you laugh and joke in a booth at the bar. You had came to accomply him on his shift, but he was too busy dealing with all the customers to pay you enough attention, attention that kaeya had quickly taken for himself

Had he ever made you laugh so? It took him months to form a bond with you, had it taken Kaeya mere days? Were the two of you more compatible?

The already ever present frown grows deeper, scaring off whatever customers were present. Anger which was bubbling fervently inside him was soon replaced with crippling doubt.

You... you weren’t going to leave him, right? You’d spent precious moments together, moments that helped lift the heavy burdens of his ever present torments. The loneliness that he felt deep within himself dissipated whenever you were by his side... he couldn’t stand to lose you

He finishes his shift early that night, the unsettling feeling forming a pit in his stomach, deciding to leave without you, uncertain of what not so kind words would be directed towards his brother should be encounter him

Was he really going to lose you to kaeya?

Only several meters out of the bar, he hears footsteps rapidly approaching, he prepares himself to deal with whoever dared to make his night even worse

But it was you, an arm slipping into his, a look of concern plastered on you face

“Is everything alright? You left without saying anything.” He doesn’t have the heart to take his arm away, resigning himself to his fate. Perhaps... you’d be happier... with someone else. Even if that someone is Kaeya

What could be even offer you? Aside from gifts and riches. He was forever absent, awkward in conversation. He didn’t believe possess an ounce genuine charm, aside from his gentlemanly facade.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he tentatively begins, already feeling that the end is in sight, “You looked like... you were having a good time. I didn’t want to disturb you.” Eyes downcast, he prepares himself for the words he says next “If...if there’s someone else you’d rather spend your time with... that’s... alright. I won’t hold you back. Please, do what makes you happy.” He truly only wanted your happiness... even...even if it wasn’t with him

You manoeuvre in front of him, clasping both of your hands in his, “ What are you talking about? Kaeya was talking about you! He was telling me what you were like as a kid! I couldn’t get anything out of you... so I thought I’d ask him!” A mischievous grin forming on your face, “He told me all about how you couldn’t sleep without your stuffed dragon, how you still couldn’t say spaghetti correctly until you were 15-“

You’re cut off mid sentence by his arms enveloping you in a bone crushing hug, immense relief flooding through him, smiling softly, you return the embrace.

You realise the reason for his actions, it leaves you feeling guilty inside. he was insecure. Scared. You’d do whatever you could to remidy it. “It’s alright Diluc, I’m not charmed quite so easily.” You whisper gently, wanting nothing more to comfort him and ease the guilt you felt for making him feel so troubled

Looking into his eyes, you steady his face against your palm, “You’re the only one for me. I assure you,”

He leans in, looking deep into your eyes for confirmation, that your word is pure and true.

Satisfied, he seals the deal with a soft kiss on the lips

ALBEDO

Truly doesn’t notice it at first

He trusted you, of course he did, so he didn’t think anything of you hanging out with Timeous

That is, until you were too busy to spend time with him

He took some time to relfect then, noticing that you spent time with him and timeous whenever you came to visit, offering him words of encouragement on his tasks when you noticed his struggles

An unpleasant feeling begins to rise in his chest. One that he has never felt before

He takes more time to confirm that’s what’s causing his discomfort, not wanting to act without complete evidence

He can admit himself that he lacks experience in relationships, often feeling uncertain about how to proceed

You always seemed happy. Eager to help him with his experiments, laying his head in your lap after a long day so you could read to him

What had went wrong?

He thinks for a long time, trying to find a cause and solution

Perhaps he hadn’t spent enough time with you. His experiments were time consuming, often not very interesting for those not involved in alchemy, had Timeous provided the affection you were in need of?

He decided the only way to remedy this problem was to approach you, despite the unfamiliar nerves rising in his chest

You’d already changed his life for the better, made his days even more exciting, finding new enjoyment outside of alchemy, to continue on without you... was that even possible?

Pouring steaming mugs of coffee for the two of you, he sets them on the table in front of you, greeting you with a quick hello, making haste, seeing no reason to delay dealing with the problem

He could always resolve problems, but, what if this was one he couldn’t? He tried to bury thoughts like those before they had a chance to rise to the surface.

Cool eyes regard you over the steam, suddenly unsure where to start. Setting the mug down, he begins. “Ive noticed that a lot of your time has been dedicated towards Timeous as of late. Being a personal friend of mine, It is easy to acknowledge that many are drawn to his kindness.” He watched your brows furrowed in confusion, mouth almost open and ready to rebute him, but he continues on. “ I want satisfactory experiences for both of us. For us to continue forward, I believe it would be best to address the problem at hand.” Now he felt the nerves rising, sticky and prickly in his chest. What words would he hear next? “I... want our relationship to continue past this. I do not think it would be pleasant... if it ended so soon. Whatever issue there is, I want to fix it. Together.” Now, the dreaded question, “...Why is Timeous occupying so much of your time?”

The question hangs in the air for a minute, unsure of how to proceed. Had he felt like this for a while? Scared as to why you weren’t spending time with him?

You reach out, sensing the implications behind his words, clasping his gloved hands in yours, “You have nothing to worry about Albedo. Truthfully, you always looked busy. Concentrated. A little... tense. I didn’t want to bother you. I know how much you dedicate yourself to your craft, I didn’t want to distract you from that.” You smile sadly, realising you caused a problem as you tried to prevent one. “You’re the only one for me, I swear it.” Your smile picks up, hoping to comfort him,giving his hands a soft squeeze, “My chalk prince.”

A smile returns to his own face, relief flooding through him. “I’m truly glad of that. To proceed forward on this path without you... it doesn’t bear thinking about.”

You finish your drinks, hearts as warm as the mugs in hand.

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wolferine · 3 years

Text

Heart Skips a Beat - Part 2

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: Natasha faces her worst nightmare when a rescue mission goes wrong…

Warnings: Violence, blood

Word Count: 1837

Part 1

Tags: @blkmxrvel @blackxwidowsxwife @marvelwomen-simp

When Natasha sees your eyes close, she finally comes back to her senses. She squirms away from Steve, crawling under an ambulance and making her way towards you. She ignores Steve telling her to stay put and doesn’t hear Clint telling police officers the direction the bullets came from. All she can think about is bringing you to safety.

The ambulance engine is still running, causing its underside to reach temperatures that make Natasha feel like she is hiding in a furnace. She holds her breath from the fumes as she crawls to the front of the vehicle, throwing her arm out and reaching for your hand.

“Y/N!” she screams. “I’m right here! Hold on!” Her fingertips brush yours and she grabs onto your wrist tightly. You’re bigger and heavier than her, but the adrenaline gives her strength. With a massive heave, she drags you under the ambulance. You smear through the puddle of your own blood and it soaks through the back of your shirt.

There isn’t even enough room for her to lift her head, but she grabs onto both your arms, digging her elbows into the ground and crawling backwards. “I got you, Y/N. I got you,” she pants. But the lack of space and your deadweight make it impossible for her to pull you all the way through, so she backs out from under the ambulance. “Steve, help me!” she shouts.

“Move!” Steve says to her, although his shoulders are too broad to fit in the narrow gap. However, his arms are long enough to reach both of your hands, and all it takes is one big tug for you to come sliding out from the ambulance.

Your eyes fly open suddenly, awakened by the agonizing pain coursing through your shoulder like a lightning bolt. You scream, and as much as it makes Natasha’s heart hurt, she’s glad to see that you’re still alive.

“You guys need to get out of here right now!” Clint yells. “Take the ambulance!”

Steve pulls you into a standing position and wraps his arms around your waist, lifting you onto his shoulders effortlessly. You flop over him like a ragdoll, pain pulsing in your stomach when you bump against his chest.

BOOM.

A bullet shatters the sideview mirror of the ambulance.

“Go, go!” Natasha urges, putting herself between the danger and you and Steve. Steve runs with you to the back of the ambulance and flings the door open. There is no gurney, so Natasha helps him lay you on the floor and climbs in after you.

“Stay with Y/N. I’ll drive,” Steve offers, going around to the front. “Clint, we’re taking Y/N to the Quinjet! Hold the scene down!”

“Copy that!” Clint is just as concerned for your safety, but he knows you’re in good hands. Steve jumps into the driver’s seat and throws the ambulance in reverse.

BOOM.

The windshield explodes.

“Let’s go!” Natasha screams, ducking her head.

“Hold on!” Steve backs into a sharp U-turn. The tires screech as they find traction on the road to accelerate forward.

Natasha practically lays on top of you to prevent you from rolling around. From a shelf, she grabs a handful of gauze packets, tearing them open with her teeth. She rips your shirt open and presses the gauze first to your shoulder, then another to the side of your stomach. You’re completely soaked in blood and it continues to pump out of you with each heartbeat. Your face has faded to a sickly pale.

“N-Nat,” you whisper, trying to move but pinned down by the pain. “N-Nat—”

“Shh, it’s okay,” she comforts. “Just keep your eyes open for me, okay?”

You see the blood smeared on her face, her neck, and her hands, too delirious to remember that it’s yours. “A-Are you h-hurt?” you stammer.

Natasha wants to laugh and cry at the same time. You’re so in love with her that even in the face of death you don’t even think about yourself. “No, I’m fine,” she says, grabbing onto your hand and interlocking your fingers. She looks over at Steve, veering through parked cars and roadblocks. “Can we hurry it up a little?” she asks in panic, even though she knows he’s driving as fast as he can.

“I’m trying!” Steve swerves around a fire hydrant and the sudden movement jolts everyone in the ambulance. Natasha presses down on you too hard and you grunt in pain.

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes. “We’re almost there. We’re almost there.”

Your vision fades into fuzzy shapes and blurred colors. Even breathing seems to be too much of a task for you. Steve parks behind the Quinjet and comes around to help carry you in.

“Do you need me to go with you?” Steve asks as he lays you across the back seats of the Quinjet.

“No.” Natasha shakes her head. “Stay and help Barton.”

Steve doesn’t even try to argue. “We’ll find who did this, Nat. I promise.” He goes to the controls at the front and presses a few buttons. “The coordinates for the Tower are set. You’ll autopilot all the way there. Just make sure to update the medical team on Y/N’s condition.”

“Thanks, Steve.”

“Everything will be okay.” He places his hand on Natasha’s shoulder for a moment before jogging back to the ambulance. As soon as he’s off the Quinjet, the door raises shut and the engines blast on. You’re several states away from New York, but at the speeds the plane can travel, you should be there in minutes. You just have to hang on until then.

Natasha leaves your side only to grab more gauze, pressing it against your bullet wounds to slow the bleeding. She rolls you to your side so there’s no pressure on your front or back, but grimaces when she sees that your back looks as bad as your front.

“N-Nat,” you try whispering again, but she is quick to shush you.

“Not now, okay? Just stay awake for me, Y/N.”

You’ve never felt so weak before. It feels like you were hit by a bus and ground up by its tires. Your mind processes in slow-motion—probably a side effect of the blood loss—and you already forgot how you got into the Quinjet. But the physical pain isn’t your greatest concern anymore. You just don’t want to lose your fight and leave her.

Natasha fits an oxygen mask around your face and the cool air is comforting, but you know your time is ticking away. You don’t notice the Quinjet hiss to a landing or acknowledge the team of doctors suddenly hovering over you.

“We’ll do the surgery in room six!”

“Prep a blood transfusion!”

“Two gunshot wounds from a large-caliber gun!”

The doctors move you to a gurney and wheel you off the Quinjet. Natasha holds onto your hand as they take you to the surgery room, but a doctor stops her from entering with you.

“No, Romanoff. You gotta stay out here. We’ll take it from here.”

Natasha doesn’t fight back, letting your fingers slip through hers as you disappear behind the doors.

***********************************************************************

“Any updates?” Clint and Steve finally arrive a few hours later, but you’re still in surgery.

“Not yet.” Natasha paces the kitchen anxiously. Although she found the time to wash your blood off her hands and face, she hasn’t changed out of her uniform yet.

“Nat, you should get cleaned up. Y/N isn’t going anywhere,” Clint says.

“I know, I just…I want to be there when—” She can’t finish her sentence, falling into Clint’s arms and crying into his shoulder.

“Y/N is a fighter, remember?” Clint says, rubbing her back.

“But the amount of blood—”

“Super soldiers don’t go down easy,” Steve reminds her. “Y/N will pull through. And besides, you’ll be there to help with the recovery.”

Natasha nods, pulling away from Clint and wiping her face. “I’m sorry I froze when I saw Y/N get shot—”

“What are you apologizing for?” Clint asks.

“I don’t know—I put you all in danger because I couldn’t get myself out of the way—” she hiccups.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Steve assures. “In fact, you were the one who dragged Y/N to safety, remember? I couldn’t fit under the ambulance and Clint was just sitting around like a duck—”

“Excuse you,” Clint interrupts, and Natasha smiles thinly.

“So, did you find who did this?” she asks.

“Uh—” Clint and Steve look at each other awkwardly. “Natasha, we—”

“Did you find them?” Natasha repeats with more force. Clint motions for Steve to explain.

“That’s the thing,” Steve says. “We don’t know who did this. We scoped out the whole area with the police. We went out more than a mile, but we couldn’t find anything. No shell casings, nothing.”

“Oh, so you’re telling me a ghost shot and tried to kill Y/N?” Natasha scoffs.

“No, we…” Steve tries to find the right words. “We think it was a setup, maybe like a hired assassin or something.”

“Who would want to kill Y/N?” Natasha asks.

“That’s what we need to figure out.”

Natasha knows you have a lot of baggage from your past, particularly when you were forced into illegal covert operations by the government. But it’s been a long time since then. You became your own person and changed your life for the better. Unfortunately, not everyone sees the side of you that Natasha and the Avengers do.

When Clint and Steve leave to shower and change, Natasha finally does the same. She dresses in clean clothes and curls up on your shared bed, inhaling your scent through the pillow and blankets.

Sometime later, Clint visits and knocks on the door. “Hey, Nat? Y/N just got out of surgery—” He doesn’t even get a chance to finish his sentence and is almost run over by Natasha as she hurries over to the medical bay. She doesn’t know which specific room they’re keeping you in, but it’s like she’s drawn to your very presence and finds the correct one instantly.

You lie upright in the bed, propped forward with pillows so there’s less pressure on your back. Your right arm is in a sling and your entire torso is wrapped in bandages. An IV drip leads into the veins on your hand, while a blood pouch sends blood into the vein inside of your elbow. You have an oxygen tube up your nose and looped around your ears.

“I heard the doctor went a little overboard on the anesthesia,” Clint says from behind Natasha, startling her. “You know, with the super soldier serum and everything. Y/N will probably be out of it for a while.” Natasha walks to your side and kneels, gently taking your hand. Your skin is clammy and colder than normal, but your pulse beats strongly.

“I’ll be here as long as it takes.” Natasha raises your hand, mindful of the wires around your wrist, and kisses your fingers.

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

Click here for Part 3!

AN: Thanks for the amazing support from everyone! Definitely didn’t think I’d get that kind of response, but I’m extremely grateful for you all. The next part will reveal the identity of the shooter, so I hope you’ll stick around for that. :) Peace out!

#natasha romanoff x reader #black widow fanfiction #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff #black widow #marvel

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sorryimanon · 3 years

Text

Pairings: Bakugou x fem!Reader

Tags: 18+, dirty talk, explicit scenes, mutual masturbation, penetration, bakugou being a switch, reader is a dom, lots of back and forth between characters, slow burn

A/N: this was supposed to be divided into two parts but surprise, surprise! i got lazy :) i had so much writing this. this might be my favorite fic ive written so far! this is a loooong one. enjoy!

P.S this is the unedited ver. I will posting the final on my AO3 account (sorryimanon)

Katsuki disliked her. No, he absolutely loathed her. Ever since she stepped foot into the classroom, it was destined for there to be a hostile barrier between the two of them. Granted, all she did was sweetly greet him like the rest of her fellow classmates, but Katsuki completely saw through her fading facade and ignored the kind gesture with a threatening showcase of his quirk.

"Being nice won't get you anywhere, baka," he snarled, glaring intensely at her all the while everyone watched the whole scene unfold.

He treated her like a foolish peasant after that initial encounter, disregarding her in any way shape or form as disgust shone through his eyes.

Y/N persevered the oncoming school years despite the blonde breathing down her neck consistently everyday. Katsuki's aggressive nature towards her subsided once graduation commenced, alluding to the blossoming maturity each student should have endured before branching off into hero work.

Not long after the celebratory succession, y/n bounced to several agencies that offered the same beneficial agreements for her. None caught her attention. Until one day she received a recommendation from Endeavor himself to work full time at his agency. Of course she accepted it and immediately wrote her sloppy signature down on the contract. Unbeknownst to her excitement, a separate copy of the contract was sent to another uprising hero around her age group.

So when she strutted in that morning of orientation, she never expected to see the very infamous Katsuki Bakugou slouched on one of the many chairs in the meeting room. Her throat tightened as she took a seat next to him, his height still freakishly tall even when they were just sitting. Staring straight forward to prevent from any means of eye contact with him, he lowered his head at her eye level and crooked a half smile.

"I'm gonna make you regret for even considering joining here, extra." A fleck of his spit hit the side of her face. Learning from her past encounters with Katsuki, y/n held her tongue in hopes for him to feel satisfied enough to leave her alone.

Thankfully their office hours were inconsistent to where they didn't intervene with each other, neither of them awkwardly meeting in the lobby or an elevator. However, sometimes y/n and Bakugou would desire the same craving for a caffeinated beverage and find themselves standing shoulder to shoulder by the coffee machine.

Bakugou likes his coffee black, she mentally jotted down as she intently watched his usual routine of preparing the beverage.

Like the asshole he is, Bakugou would purposely tip the mug and let a few trickles of the hot liquid burn her hand. He's done this every single time before he leaves y/n alone in the break room. Deep down, he relishes in the strained expression on her face when he inflicts the pain upon her. Thoughts danced across his head. Some involving him blasting y/n into the stratosphere to her kissing the tips of his boots for mercy. Either way, her being so submissive and, dare he say, a pussy to stand her ground sufficed him enough for the time being. But sometimes it pissed him off.

The constant harassment by the angry blonde went unnoticed by their other colleagues, including Endeavor, leaving y/n to prepare every morning to face the wrath of Katsuki Bakugou. His verbal abuse never wavered, occasionally whispering under his breath "weakling" or "stupid girl" whenever the pair were in the same room together. One time he sent her on a wild goose chase to find a missing case file that miraculously disappeared from her desk while she was copying something in the other room. Hours later, she soon discovers the said file tucked behind Katsuki's arm, snatching it from his grip and not once reprimanding him for wasting her time. Y/N eventually got used to it. Adapting to the annual insults of her work ethics and anything he could muster up from his sleeve. Both finally accepted their twisted dynamic, and became accustomed to the work lifestyle.

Months later, the dynamic soon changed when Endeavor announced an emergency meeting with everyone in the building. Apparently a new wave of villains have been reigning terror over the city, causing major damages and fatalities in a matter of weeks. Rumors started to circulate that the new generation of heroes don't have the capabilities to apprehend this group of evil doers. In the meeting, Endeavor made it clear for everyone to be partnered up before he dismisses them to patrol for the night, suggesting that pairing up with someone who is complimentary to your quirk is efficient for when dealing with these kinds of villains.

That's why y/n didn't voice her complaint when she inevitably got matched with Bakugou. His quirk alone was powerful already. With both of their quirks combined, there's no telling how the mission will go, but she surprisingly feels safe knowing he'll be sticking by her side throughout the rest of the night. It'll be a quick mission, then they'll return back to their previous mundane duties in the office. Back to Katsuki's mental and verbal torment.

"Could you move any slower?" Katsuki barked as both he and y/n were taking a quick stroll through the public park, scoping out for any signs of danger.

She was a step behind him, careful not to bump his shoulder or invade his space. She mumbled out a quick apology and fastened her pace, catching up to the man in gear. Tonight he wore his alternative hero costume, the design made specifically for when the temperature reaches an undesirable degree. The collar touched below the tip of his chin, his chiseled chest covered with the thick black material, and his arms protected from the cold with the addition of sleeves.

"Fucking weakling..." she heard him mumble once they circled the perimeter again.

Bakugou insisted for them to scout out as many places as possible in hopes for an encounter. He desperately needs any excuse for some action, to use his quirk out of anger. Previously, they patrolled the empty plaza of Tatoone shopping center. Other heroes were there as well, but still no signs of any villains lurking in the dark. For the third time, they met up at the center of the park after making another round, both already tired of the tedious task.

"Just our fucking luck. Still no signs of those stupid villains. I guess we should patrol the outskirts of-."

A bright luminescent beam struck the middle of Bakugou's chest cavity, ricocheting him backwards to slam against the trunk of a large tree, knocking him unconscious instantly. Startled, y/n's eyes frantically searched for the perpetrator, only to meet a pair of glowing green orbs staring right back. She shifted her stance in preparation for their next attack, blocking Bakugou's lifeless body from the villains view. Another beam shot from the darkness, only this time y/n counter balanced the blow by rolling to side, the blast missing her by a couple of feet. Y/N quickly raised to her feet and ran head first towards the dark figure. Without preamble, the figure shot multiple beams at the hero, each one emitting from the void of their chest.

Y/N dodged the bright suffocating strips of light, her feet shuffling and heart racing due to the adrenaline rush. However, she miscalculated her next move which allowed the figure to strike her left shoulder when she was distracted for a split second. Pain shot throughout her shoulder blade. Eyes drawn to a close, her hand shot up to cradle the injury. The intense sensation started to spread from the upper half of her body to below. Everything suddenly became numb, including her sensors. She couldn't feel the tips of her digits nor move any part of her face. The muscles in her legs soon stopped contracting, resulting in her knees giving out. She felt the hard, coarse ground beneath her as the darkness began to swallow up her line of vision. The last thing she saw was a scuffed up Bakugou laying face flat on the drenched grass.

- Y/N stirred awake, lifting one of her half lidded eyes expecting to see the villain looming over her tired body. But all she saw was the popcorn ceiling sheltering her, an overhead fan turned on and the curtains tightly shut. She slowly inclined her body upright and peeled the covers from her clammy figure. Still in the process of waking up, she made her way to the attached bathroom by the bed and located the sink. She splashed the cold water on her face, letting the droplets drench the clothes she was currently wearing. Turning off the facet, she craned her head to view the damage on her shoulder in the mirror. But how come she couldn't recognize herself?

Tuffs of blonde spiked out from her head. Her eyes weren't the same color either. Red crimson irises replaced the ones she had before. The injury from last night on her shoulder wasn't there no more, but she took sight at how broad they became. And she wasn't wearing her typical pajama top and bottoms. This morning she was clad in a black tank top and a pair of soft sweat pants.

No, this can't be true. This has to be some sick nightmare. Jolting backwards on her heel, she let out a terrible shriek. After screaming for a good minute, she calmed down and rested her hands on the bathroom counter, transfixed on the reflection in front of her.

"I-I somehow transformed into Bakugou!" The deep timbre voice of bakugou replaced her own. She tugged on the unkept hair and knitted her eyes shut. "This is only a dream. I'm dreaming right? I can't possibly be in Bakugou's body."

A loud ringing noise alerted y/n to open her eyes again. It was coming from her bedroom. Correction, his bedroom. She glanced at herself in the mirror one more time before retrieving the phone that was stuffed in a green duffel bag. Her eyes widened. She recognized her phone number on the screen. Knowing the circumstances, she pressed answered and awaited for the receiver on the other end to speak.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?!"

"So, we somehow switched bodies because of being struck by that villains quirk the other night. How long did they say this will last then?" Y/N questioned Bakugou the following morning once they agreed to meet up somewhere in private. Right now they were sitting across from each other on a stone bench by the lake, the morning sun peaking through the tall skyscrapers behind them.

Bakugou shrugged his shoulders, technically hers, and said, "Endeavor informed me it'll probably linger for a good week. He also wanted us to not be on duty till we recuperate from this, saying that the side effects will drain our bodies." He couldn't muster up the courage to stare at her, because all he would see is the reflection of himself. "Unfortunately the villain fled the scene before the others arrived to retrieve us. They're still out there causing havoc."

"This is freaking weird."

"Fucking."

Y/N tilted her head in confusion. Across from her, Bakugou pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed in frustration.

"If you're gonna be me for a whole week then you might as well not sugar coat my vocabulary-dumbass."

Right, she now has to devote her time and effort into mirroring Bakugou's explosive personality. But that also means he too has to put on a show in order to persuade everyone he was her.

"Oh, okay..." she started but tensed up when realizing Bakugou was gazing expectantly at her. "D-Dumbass?"

Katsuki groaned as he rolled his eyes at her failed attempt of portraying him.

"This is going to be a long ass week."

- Bakugou grunted in disgust as he scavenged through y/n's closet for something to wear. Every piece of clothing so far hasn't met his criteria of approval to put on his body. There was an unnecessary amount of yoga pants and the most ugliest oversized graphic tees he's ever laid his eyes upon stored in her drawer. Growing up in a household of highly praised designers, the influence shifted his taste in fashion over the years. So, he made the rational decision to make a quick trip to the mall and purchase a few outfits for himself. Considering he's going to be in this body for a whole week, maybe even more, he might as well present himself looking ten times better than she ever has.

He tittered around the mall window shopping, entering store after store leaving with a handful of clothes in plastic and paper bags. So far he bought some outfits that edged a little on the fancy side, but paid no mind to his bank account. Bakugou guesstimated y/n's size during the venture, not wanting to pry or see what's underneath these restricting fabrics. He was about to leave when a frilly-pink themed store caught his attention.

It's a lingerie store, Bakugou thought as he neared closer to the entrance.

Posters inside the displays showcased attractive half naked women clad in nothing but the delicate material. Not to mention they were all posing seductively. An involuntary image of y/n flashed across his eyes, her imitating the same lustrous pose as well as wearing the sheer lingerie like the women behind the glass. Steams of heat practically blowed out from his ears, along with the embarrassing shade of pink panting his cheeks. He clamped a hand on his mouth, eyes widen in disbelief.

The fuck did I just imagine? There's no way in hell that just happened!

He must've been loitering there for awhile because a young girl, possibly his age, was standing in the threshold of the store wearing a pastel pink apron, giving him a welcoming smile.

She spoke, "Looking to shop for something, ma'am?"

Remembering back to y/n's distasteful clothing, he noted that she also lacked having any 'pretty' undergarments. It wasn't that he intentionally raided through her underwear, he just so happen to have stumbled upon the almost empty drawer by accident. In retrospect, he's doing her a favor. He cleared his throat before speaking.

"Yes actually. Can you show me your most expensive set?" - "To your left! That dudes been camping by that spot since the match. He'll snipe you in the open!" Kirishima informed y/n as they both sat criss cross on the cushioned couch.

They've been playing the same game for hours. Y/N prayed for at least one water break or grab something quick to eat since they haven't moved an inch from their spots. Kirishima promised after this match he'll order some takeout for the both of them, but he said the same thing 8 matches ago. All she could do for now was pretend to be immersed in the game, getting a couple of impressive kills here and there, subsequently ranking her to a bronze level. Her digits were beginning to cramp up due to the repetitive moments of smashing down on the labeled buttons on the wireless controller. The screen across from them suddenly went dark and flashed the scoreboard from the recent match. Another successful victory.

"BOOYAAA!!!!" Kirishima clapped his hands and did a celebratory dance. "Ah, good game Bakugou."

Y/N flinched from hearing the blondes name.

"Kirishima, it's Y/N," she reluctantly reminded him.

Kirishima's whole demeanor went south. He chucked out a dry laugh and nervously started rubbing the back of his neck.

"R-Right sorry. Couldn't help myself. I mean, I am looking at Bakugou. Same face, voice, hair, and scary eyes."

After being battered by the villains quirk, Kirishima and Sun Eater were the ones to retrieve them before law enforcement shortly arrived once the perpetrator fled the scene. They were all under one strict oath to not mention this to the public, or else everyone’s image will tarnished and skew the potential of our future rankings.

"I know. I'm still trying to process this whole thing. I've been avoiding all the mirrors in the apartment since I came back." Y/N stood up from the couch and sauntered over to her designated bedroom for the week. She reached for the door handle but stiffened when a pair of hardened hands rested on her broad shoulders.

"Aye, don't worry so much. I bet you Bakugou is thinking the same thing. This week will be over before you know it," he absentmindedly began massaging the area between your shoulder blades and neck.

Does he always treat Bakugou like this despite that nasty little Pomeranian being a complete asshole to everyone?

"Kirishima?"

"Yeah?"

"What is Bakugou like around you?"

The red head hummed to himself at the random question, thinking of a perfect answer to her curiosity.

"The same how he was in high school except more tamer I guess. But I enjoy his presence none the less."

Then why does he seem to unleash his untamed feelings towards me specifically?

Y/N sighed, obviously not satisfied with that answer.

"Out of everybody, he seems to despise me more and more like it's a game," she said without realizing.

"You know how he is Y/N. He's very abrasive and blunt when it comes to other people's emotions, but deep down I know he only acts like that because he wants to present a strong image in front of everyone," he started. "He's scared of others looking down on him, I know that for sure. But I always looked up to Bakugou from the day I personally got to know him. So, I guess he just stayed by my side because of my admiration for him."

Bakugou is always putting up a front then.

"Interesting...well I'm gonna go to bed now. Thanks for keeping me company," y/n said once again reaching for the knob and opening the door, ignoring the red heads pleas for her not go to sleep on an empty stomach. -

The next day Bakugou found himself inside y/n's bathroom, feet firmly planted on the tiled floor not daring to move an inch. Even though he wasn't in his own body that didn't stop him from paying a visit to the gym this morning. He went extra hard on every machine, not caring about the wandering eyes men gave him while he dead lifted weights. Drenched in nothing but his own glistening sweat, Bakugou entered y/n's small apartment as he dragged his tired feet to the bedroom he was now familiarized with.

Something foul wafted into his nostrils, almost making him teary eyed to the stench. He tried to recall the last time he took a shower. Vaguely he remembers washing his body the morning before he got attack by the powerful quirk. It's been several days since then. This was one thing he didn't want to endure during his experience of switching bodies. He's been neglecting his own hygiene to avoid seeing y/n's exposed body parts. Changing out from her clothes with closed eyes was difficult enough, but taking a fucking shower?! Such a shitty predicament. But he can't smell like this for the remainder of being stuck in this body. He'll die of suffocation.

Ah fuck, that must mean she has to take a shower as well. Or worse, she already has and saw everything.

His eye twitched, lips trembling in fear at what he's about to witness.

Fuck it, I can't go out smelling like shit!

With shaky fingers he began stripping, eyes trained on anything but y/n's figure, the faint sound of the water streaming white noise to him. Her gym clothes piled on the floor, Katsuki slipped into the shower, head titled slightly to view only the shower head. He messed around with the chrome handle, indecisive on what temperature he wanted. Settled onto cold to awaken his sluggish state, he positioned himself under the shower head, goosebumps prickling his skin due to the sudden drop of temperature. Water droplets streamed down and canaled to his lower regions, the sensation relaxing his anxiousness just a smidge. He surveyed the options y/n had laid out for hair care products and grabbed the nearest one. Rubbing the body wash into the palms of his hands, he caught himself, arm mid raised getting ready to wash each crevice of his body.

Shit shit shit shit

The hand in front of him began shaking.

She won't know. It's not like I'm touching her sexually, I'm just keeping her clean for fucks sake!

As gentle as he could, Bakugou washed away the soapy residue, fingers cautiously ghosting over anything perking out. A moment too soon, he accidentally skimmed over her chest a little too fast, the tips of his fingers touching something that was hard and protruding. His breathing hitched.

I just felt her fucking nipple!

But fuck, it strangely felt quite pleasant. Pleasurable even if he had to admit.

He continued on with his previous ministrations, cupping her boobs like a madman and swiping one thumb over the taunt surface to test the waters. A fierce, tingling sensation surged shivers down his spine. An unsolicited low moan spurred out from the blonde.

"Hah!"

What the hell?! Why am I still touching her tits? And why am I enjoying it?

Finishing up his routine quickly, Bakugou snatched a towel from the cabinet and rubbed away all the sinful thoughts desperately from his head, a constant fight between his morals and neediness. Nobody will never know what he committed in the confines of her own apartment. And it'll fucking stay like that till on his death bed.

I practically assaulted her. I'm so fucking disgusting

For the rest of the remaining day, Bakugou planned on meeting up with Kirishima to hangout. He wanted to coerce the red head into talking about anything other than y/n. His mind needs the relief. He needs this spell to be over with.

He can't stand trying to fit into women's jeans any longer - Kirishima woke up that morning to a chorus of shrieks. Girlish shrieks, might he add. He thought maybe the neighbors were selfishly doing not-so-holy-things at the peak of dawn. But him and Katsuki were resided on the highest level of the penthouse, them being the only residents on the empty floor. It clicked once he heard his name through the thin walls.

"Ah! Y/N I'm coming!" He leaped from his bed and reached y/n's, technically Bakugou's, room in a matter of seconds.

Y/N's body twitched to the sound of the door being slammed open, the impact rattling the very few wall decorations in the blondes space. Standing in the threshold was the friendly red head, huffing and puffing air out of his chest like he just got done running a marathon.

"K-Kiri! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to wake you up!" Her words afterwards became a jumbled mess, realizing the predicament she pushed herself into.

"Hey, hey, calm down! Tell me what's wrong. It sounded like you were in pain. Did you hurt yourself anywhere?" The red had to remind himself this was indeed another person inside Bakugou's body, because Bakugou would never apologize repeatedly for the sake of apologizing in his entire life.

Y/N was looking quite pallid now, sheepishly tugging on the black covers of the bed, trying to find the easiest way on how to lay this out to her new roommate.

"Well...I just...I woke up to - ah crap."

Instead of explaining her situation, she pulled back the blanket to show kiri the thing protruding between her uncommonly, muscular legs. Kirishima's eyes widen instantaneously, eating up the pitched tent inside her basketball shorts. Oddly enough, this wasn't his first rodeo upon seeing the blonde with a boner. They were dudes. And dudes living together were bound to witness each other's 'flesh swords', he'd like to put it.

"Oh, morning wood? That's pretty normal. Nothing to fret y/n!" He dismissed her with the wave of his hand. "Bakugou gets them all the time! In fact, I remember he'd get them after sparring sessions back in our U.A days-."

"Okayyyyy, Never mind that! I know I have a boner. Just exactly how do I get rid of it?!"

"You mean, you don't know? Haven't you been taught this in Sex Ed class?" Kiri was actually curious as to why she doesn't know nor remember. He surly does. Learning about the human body by the infamous sultry teacher, Midnight, engraved so much information into his tiny-teenage brain.

"That was considered an extra curricular class. I took a CPR class instead."

"Right well, from what she taught us and from my own personal experience, you gotta rub one out."

Y/N's whole face contorted into a confused mess of disgust.

"Rub a what now?" She asked, although she had a feeling what the euphemism meant.

Kiri's face blotched red, the tint flushing to his chest as well. The man was evidently embarrassed about having this conversation with someone who wasn't Bakugou.

"I essentially mean you gotta masturbate. Ya know, in order to calm down your boner," he paused seeing how distraught y/n became. "It won't hurt I promise you! Don't worry, it feels really good! Like, eating ice cream good! Ah no that's not a good analogy!"

"This is so fucking horrifying..." Y/N poked at the thing, rightfully known as his dick, and kept starring as if it might miraculously subside to its original size.

Kiri coughed, grabbing her attention away from Bakugou's dick.

"He has lotion stashed in his drawer," he started, but malfunctioned seconds later. He revealed something private to someone that bakugou condemned as a 'weakling'. "That is if you need it for lubricant. It's kind of tough to jerk off dry..." his sentence fell off midway.

Y/N mumbled out an "Ok", and retrieved said lotion from the lower bunk of his drawers. She felt a pair of eyes on her. Kiri was still standing awkwardly by the doorway, unsure wether or not if that's his cue to leave.

"Um, thanks Kiri. You can leave now," she plopped back onto Bakugou's king sized bed.

This man sleeps alone. He doesn't need a ginormous bed all to himself.

"R-Right! Well, enjoy jerking off- ah no I meant - I didn't word that correctly! Ah geez, see ya later!" He sprinted out the door like his life depended on it.

Locking the door behind her, y/n forced herself into the attached bathroom, the lotion burning the palms of her hand each second. Once she settled down on the lid of the toilet, she shimmied out from his loose basketball shorts, letting them pool at her ankles.

If there's one thing she learned that morning, it was that being a man had its weird benefits. - "Slow down Bakugou! Let me at least catch up before you black out!" Kirishima was on his third shot while Bakugou just downed his sixth one for the night.

The blonde growled under his breath and tugged the red head by his collar to his mouth.

"Fucking idiot, don't call me that. It's y/n when we're out in public," he loosens his grip and snatches kiri's shot and tips his head back to drain it all down his throat, the burning sensation long gone.

"Ugh, my brain can't keep up with this whole switching body shit. It's been so hard back at the apartment." He internally cringes from the recollection of y/n popping her first boner this morning.

"What do you mean? Has that dumbass been giving you a hard time? If she has, I'll give her a piece of my mind."

"Not at all! She's been a saint while living with me. Which by the way, how come you can't just live at the penthouse while y/n stays at her place?

While Kirishima was talking, Bakugou ordered another round of shots. The bartender shoved a whole bottle of Fireball towards the man, saving him in the future to not ask anymore. The young server gave Bakugou a sly wink and returned back to serving other customers down the line. Cheeks flushed red, Bakugou thinks the man behind the bar was being too nice for his liking. He poured two more shots while keeping an eye on the average looking employee. If kirishima kept babbling, he might as well funnel the entire bottle in one sitting.

"I'm just following endeavors orders. We're not supposed to gain attention from those stupid reporters that camp outside our penthouse," he takes another swing of the warm liquid. "I'd rather fucking be quirkless than mistaken for having any rumored relations with her."

"Can I ask a genuine question? How come you hate y/n so much?"

"I don't hate her, I dislike her. There's a difference."

"I don't know man. Sometimes I mistaken your dislike with love."

"EXCUSE ME? IM NOT IN LOVE OF THAT BITCH?!"

"C'mon dude, I'm sensing a lot of denial from you. Also, shouldn't you be acting like her right now? She's very soft spoken if I'm not mistaken,"

"I'm not in denial idiot. I hate how soft she speaks. I hate how sickeningly kind she is even though nobody deserves it. I hate how she wastes her talented quirk and doesn't see the potential. She's a lost cause Kiri. She won't last for much longer in this field if she keeps this up."

"Wow, for someone who dislikes her as such, you surly sound like you care about heeeerrrrrr," kirshima drawled out in a sing-song voice.

"Shut up and finish your shot, shitty hair."

When the blonde was driving back to her apartment later that night, he slammed his fists against the steering wheel when an afterthought came to him.

His whole reasoning as to why he went out in the first place, and he can't seem to restrict himself from talking about the girl he's trapped in.

Even in this goddamn body I can't seem to steer clear from y/n talk! - Izuku had to do a double take when he entered the small coffee shop. Something about seeing the pensive blonde sitting patiently in a booth by the corner really made him feel like he was sucked into another dimension. Today y/n was wearing a white v-neck with a wool green cardigan and tight black jeans.

Kacchan owns cardigans? He thought, clearly amused.

Upon hearing the ding coming from the door, Y/N raised her head from her phone and waved Izuku over to her table. The poor man seemed like he was going combust right there. It's been awhile since he's spoken to his old classmate.

The green haired hero slid into the booth across from her and immediately started speaking Deku language.

"H-Hey Kacchan! Boy it's been awhile hasn't it? I was a little stunned seeing your message this morning asking to hangout. I'm sorry that I couldn't meet up sooner. I had an early patrol shift from 9 to 5. You might know how that feels, right?! Oh gosh I'm sounding like an adult. Can you believe we're adults-."

"Midor- I mean Deku, I called you up to ask about if you have any leads on the villain with the body switching quirk?" She cut him off.

"Oh yeah, that villain has been spotted a few times since the last attack. Of course most of my team hasn't been able to reprimand them. A few close calls though. But I heard two people from your sector got hit by the quirk! Are they doing okay?"

I hate lying to those big freaking green eyes.

"That's not true. They got hurt, but no one was attacked by their quirk. I just need to know if you have any information on the quirk in particular and what to do in order to reverse it."

Underneath the table, Izuku fumbled inside his pockets in search for his mini notebook. He still obtained the habit of jotting down everything, literally everything, in hopes the information will provide any source of aide. Izuku became all jittery and excited at the thought of sharing anything with Kacchan!

The small, crinkled notebook was slid across the table, hitting the tips of y/n's knuckles.

"Page 124, the first indent I wrote. It's mainly about my own conspiracy on what the villains quirk is. That was before their first debut of course. But now since we know it's a type of body switching quirk, I tried to pin point on what exactly lifts the quirks effect on the victim," Izuku explained casually while y/n skimmed through the notes and passages. "I did a little detective work on my own and contacted the people who were attacked by the villain. From what I gathered, let's just say- it's a bit taboo ."

This piqued her interest.

"What do you mean by, taboo?"

The man began to wave his hands around fervently in attempt to steer the blonde away from prying more. But y/n swatted Izuku's hand and continued reading the sloppy inscriptions.

Her eyes popped out from her sockets.

"I have to what?!" A few civilians stared in their direction, obviously gravitated to the familiar gruff voice.

"Calm down Kacchan! Why are you so angry for?"

Y/N rubbed her temple all the while wanting to slowly die than endure anymore of this.

"Nothing. Just- Ugh...Is it alright if I borrow this?"

"Y-Yeah! Kacchan can borrow anything from me as long as he returns it!" There was that gleam again in his eyes.

"Thanks Izuku, I owe you one!" She squeezed the greenettes freckled hand before leaving the booth and the shop all together.

Still in the cafe, Izuku sat frozen as if someone walked in with gun. Internally though, he was screaming. -

Y/N: Please call me. It's urgent

It was a Friday night when Bakugou received the cryptic message from her. He was in the middle of watching his true crime show when the annoying ding from his phone went off. For once, he just wanted to relax his mind and go on auto pilot without stressing his already strained body. It's the whole principle of Friday's. To fuck off and ignore everyone. What's so fucking important for her to text him out of the blue then?

Another acute ding.

Bakugou peeked over his shoulder to see who disrupted him this time.

Y/N: Bakugou, we need to talk. This isn't something to ignore.

He rolled his eyes and retrained his focus on the tv screen.

Ding Ding Ding

"FOR FUCK SAKE!" He released an animalistic growl from the depths of his throat, scratching his voice box even more. His fingers typed away aggressively, not bothering to read her previous messages.

BK: Leave me the fuck alone. You're to only text me if it involves with the reverse of this stupid quirk 🖕🏼

Three dots appeared immediately after he sent that. Bakugou started losing his patience while waiting for her response. He hated wasting precious time, especially if there was a second party involved. Her message finally delivered. Bakugou's eyes grew larger in size as he read the text.

Y/N: that's why I'm texting you idiot 🙄 I met up with Midoriya today and he may have given me the solution to our problem.

He bit down hard on his bottom lip as he typed out his last text message to her.

BK: fine. come over then. we can talk about it when you get here.

This time he didn't wait for her to respond back and began cleaning her apartment. - Feeling nervous was an understatement. Y/N felt like she was driving herself to her own execution. Bakugou being the one to carry out the death sentence. She didn't doubt the blonde would be elated at the idea of her being put under a torture device.

Okay, maybe he wasn't too malice to actually do it, but he probably entertained the thought.

Thankfully Bakugou's penthouse wasn't far from her own apartment, saving her much needed gas in case he goes ballistic on her.

The door flew open when she arrived shortly after one knock, revealing a very sluggish looking Y/N shooting daggers at her. Well, at least her body wasn't dressed in bruises or burn marks. That's a win. Bakugou paired herself with a cute crop top and silky pajama shorts. He's got taste she'll give him that.

Her apartment remained exactly the same as she left it when they both were ordered to switch residency's. Only a few traces of Bakugou were found. Mainly in the kitchen, where all his fancy cooking equipment and utensils were laid out. Unlike him, she ate out almost every night due to the red head being incompetent in the kitchen. He almost burnt down the complex last night. He relied upon his friend to do most of the cooking in their household.

The blonde briskly brushed passed her to sit on the couch, slinging his feet on the coffee table to make himself comfortable. Too comfortable, she noted.

"Well, spill it. What did the damn nerd tell you that could help us with this shit?" He inquired without preamble.

Like a hero, she was here on a mission. A mission that needs to be completed as soon as possible, even if the mission itself was ludicrous. She reached into her jacket pocket to retrieve the mini book, and flipped soundlessly to the page Izuku marked for her.

"On here it says that the quirk can last up to a week, maybe even more, depending on the victim(s). The effected will experience dry eyes, nausea, insomnia, painful migraines, and uncontrollable shaking due to being inside another persons body. They must let the quirk take its course then," she read out loud, ignoring Bakugou's groans of annoyance. "But, for rare cases, there have been reports of one's libido being greatly impacted. The victim will be in constant, insurmountable pain unless they relief themselves, then the two bodies will return back to normal."

To her surprise, Bakugou didn't show an ounce of indignation after hearing this piece of information. He seemed almost indifferent.

And there's no denying the truth. Both of their hormones have been off the rails. Ever since the incident in the shower, Bakugou has caught himself numerous times touching Y/N's boobs. Coping a sly feel as he cooked, cleaned, and even while he scrolled through his social media. Sometimes her ass as well to see if it felt good in his hands. Y/N was no saint either. Sporting boners every hour for no particular reason. All the blood rushing to her lower region became unbearable when she didn't take care of it. Kirishima kept reassuring her that it's natural for a man to get them a lot. But how much was too much?

He threw his hands up in the air and scoffs. "That's it? I just gotta jack off and then we're free from this curse?"

This is the part she dreaded the most. An uncomfortable heat flash roused up her face, a deep shade of red inching across her cheeks and nose.

"No. That's not what it means. We basically have to...ya know...," she paused mid sentence, too bashful to finish, desperately wanting Bakugou to put two and two together.

She shrunk in her position as the blonde narrowed his eyes at her.

"We have to fuck each other?" He profoundly acclaimed.

"Don't put it like that! But yeah, technically, we have to...help relief each other in order to switch back."

"If you wanted to jump my bones so bad you could've just asked." He leans back against the couch, arm draped lazily over the shoulder of the furniture, along with a playful smirk tugging up on the corners of his mouth. Y/N's blood ran cold when she felt the tiniest twitch down below. Her borrowed reproductive organ is betraying her!

"Do you want to be in constant pain till this all wears off? Or do you want to get this over with and never talk to each other again?" Y/N shuffled more towards the abrasive man, a strong tidal wave of anger rising within her.

"It won't matter because you always wound up in my presence anyway. Like a fucking pest that won't leave me alone." Without realizing it, Bakugou got up from his spot on the couch and marched over to Y/N, who at the moment looked like she was about to pop a blood vessel.

Another thing he hated about switching bodies was the fact that everyone towered over him, despite him being on his tippy toes. The woman in front of him acclimated his height, giving her the upperhand if they were to battle it out right now. If anything he could kick her shins at best.

"Whatever...I'm leaving," was all she said before storming off to the front door, grabbing her things along with her as she grew farther from him.

Katsuki's legs were moving on their own. His hand reached out and grabbed Y/N's forearm, halting her movements altogether. She's clearly enraged, thrashing her body back and forth to loosen his grip on her. He eventually grew tired of her stubborness and secured his grip on both of her arms, trapping her between the door and his body, producing a loud 'thump!'. Although he was in her body, he still carried his strength. In a matter of seconds, both Y/N and Bakugou were chest to chest now, their centers tapping aganist each other. She averted her gaze to the floor, as if their shoes were more interesting than this whole shitshow of a dilema. Bakugou squeezed her shoudlers, a little too much for her liking, to gain her attention again.

"I didn't say no, did I?" he asked hotly, his warm breath hitting her collarbones. An ice cold shiver ran down her spine, causing her breathing to hitch. Bakugou noticed her sudden stiffness and began rubbing gentle circles into the tender flesh of her skin. "Hoho, someone's excited aren't they?"

Confused, Y/N furrowed her brows and backed up further into the wooden door. But her question was soon to be answered as she followed Bakugou's hungry gaze to the prominent bludge taunting from her pants. Betrayed once again by her unstable horniness!

"Guess I'm not the only one," she accuses once spotting the definite wet stain around Bakugou's crotch. He smirked at that.

"Take care of it then," his voice oozed of seduction and want, rewarding him another twitch in your tight pants. The libido was taking full effect now, any animosity they had before was thrown out the window. Past arguments also long forgotten. Their main priority at the moment was to experience the sweet relief of coming undone.

Y/N darted her hand down to the spot Bakugou needed attention from, and cupped his crotch with her abnormally large hand. Bakugou lets out a shaky exhale as her fingers danced around the sensitive area. One of her fingers moved instinctively, feeling how drenched he was in his panties, and rubbed the underside to get a better feel of the sex.

"You're so wet Bakugou," Y/N mused softly. She leaned forward, searching into Bakugou's eyes for any signs of him wanting this to end. But the pool of his irises were blown out, no tint of your original color in them anymore. "Do you want more?"

He nodded quickly, his hair bobbing up and down. Y/N chuckled and removed her hand from its previous position to the hem of Bakugou's shorts, teasingly toying the waistband. She slipped smoothly into his shorts, tickling him in the process, and toyed with the corners of his panties before moving them aside so she could have access to the thing she's been craving to touch. Wetness lathered up her fingers with just one swipe, causing Bakugou to purse his lips and shut his eyes tightly.

"Is Bakugou embarrassed? Are you mad that I have the upper hand now? After all those years of verbally tormenting me, you can't handle my simple touch?" She whispered dangerously close into his ear. During this, she couldn't tell if he was pissed or turned on. Maybe a mixture of both, but she took pride in his strained expression.

"W-Watch your goddamn mouth. Or do I need to shut you up myself, eh?" By shutting her up, he meant mirroring her exact ministrations. The petite hand of Bakugou's latched onto the zipper of her jeans, and impressively dragged it down in one swipe without getting anything caught. He reached into the tight restraints of her boxer briefs and pulled out the hardened dick. He clicked his tongue. "Not to sound like a narcissist, but you gotta admit, my dick looks pretty."

"Just shut up and jerk me off you asshole. I'm starting to see stars," She wasn't lying to speed up the process. Her body felt like it was on fire, including her dick. If Bakugou keeps stalling for the sake of punishing her, then he's going to be seeing white for days on end.

Bakugou tentatively began pumping her, his grip not too tight nor loose on the flesh. Y/N sighed in relief as he swiped his thumb over the slit, covering his fingers in her precum. Seeing that he's giving into her needs, she returned the favor by inserting her index finger inside, not allowing him to adjust once she massaged the velvety walls.

Bakugou arched into Y/N's body, panting harshly against her chest. "H-Hah fuck, slow down. Shit!"

"Take it like a champ, Mr.Dynamight."

"F-Fuck you."

Oh no. Probably shouldn't have patronized him, because Bakugou sped up his languid motions to pure vigorous jerking of the hand. A wave of pleasure shot up through her body, jolting backwards due to the intense sensation. Of course he's a pro at this. What isn't he good at?

Bakugou rested his head onto the crevice of your shoulder since he could only reach so far, and ghosted his lips on the skin, carefully restricting himself to not engage in kissing the area. While doing so, he cupped the underside of your balls, rolling them around in his small hands. They looked so big when being manhandled in her grasp. Y/N stifled her moans as he kept messing with them, all the while stroking her simultaneously. She felt him smile. The cheeky fucker! Two could play it at this game.

Y/N used one of her thumbs that weren't preoccupied inside Bakugou to massage the only place she knew that could make him cum in seconds. Two fingers inside, one thumb attentively on the clitorous. It was enough to make Bakugou bite down on her shoulder, trying to prevent any moans from escaping his mouth.

"Moan for me Bakugou. I know you want to," she tried to persuade him with more strokes to the clit, occasionally pinching it with her unoccupied fingers. She can feel he was close. So was she. But she needed to coerce him into helping her to finish too. They need to be a team. "Say something Bakugou. Don't you want to cum? If you don't speak your mind I'm going to stop." She couldn't believe the words that were spewing from her mouth. Y/N has never dirty talked before. Nor has she gotten this far with anyone without freezing up. Definitely the libido effect.

Bakugou detached his teeth from her shoulder and stared deeply into her eyes. Pleading.

"Go faster. Please." The want and neediness in his voice said it all.

He indeed felt vulnerable and exposed right then and there when confessing his desire, but he couldn't care less. Her fingers inside him were heavenly. A mantra of ,"yesyesyesyesyesyes", left his throat as her ministrations didn't falter.

"Fuck! Keep going. Just like that- shit - just like that... yesssss." His moans were beautiful. Not because they sounded like hers, but the way how he vocalizes his pleasure made sense in the world. Every whimper or moan puts her closer to the edge.

"Are you- are you about to?" He asked quietly, as though he was afraid you might stop at any rate.

"Yes! So close, just keep stroking," it was difficult to form sentences after that, the build up tension in your stomach tightening like a ticking time bomb, making your pleads indecipherable.

But Bakugou didn't want to hear that. He wanted to her to say those three words of encouragement.

Make. Me. Cum

And then, as if his thoughts were broadcasted live, she snaked her hands into the locks of his hair and pulled him close to where the tips of their noses touched briskly.

In a small voice she whimpers out, "Make me cum, Katsuki."

Listening to her instructions, his grip tightened around the base of her shaft and began teasing the slit, never once averting his glare from her own. Y/N's legs turned into jello. It became harder and harder to stand any longer. She needed to release. She quickened her pace and brutally scissored his pussy, the erotic sounds of their wetness reverberating in the tiny apartment.

"Cum then baby. Cum for me only."

Baby

Next thing she knew a strip of white shot out from below, dirtying the hands of Bakugou's. Her body began to spasm. Katsuki didn't loosen his grip, the stimulation becoming unbearable at this point.

The coil within him loosened, the evidence of his climax coating her fingers, allowing his orgasum to reach its full potential.

The pair blacked out for a split second, but recuperated once the light hit their corneas again.

"Shit." "Fuck." "..." "..."

Silence. Then the realization hit.

"I'm staring at you and not me! It worked! Hallelujah!" Y/N exclaimed, feeling herself to make sure it wasn't a hallucination.

"Gross. You got cum all over my expensive shirt," he said, wiping away the white substance with his sleeve.

Both of them went into the kitchen to clean the after math. Bakugou would grunt occasionally in disgust, sponging away the grime. Y/N throughly washed her hands and towel dried them, thoughts stiffly empty and vexed. She broke the awkward tension.

"Well, I guess we should call Endeavor and inform him that we switched back."

He hummed in agreement.

"And we should probably exchange our things tomorrow or tonight, but preferably soon since we're going to be on duty again."

Another grunt.

"Don't worry about me mentioning this to anyone. We can just keep whatever happened minutes ago between us-

Bakugou cut her off entirely by smashing his lips against hers. Shell shocked by his action, Y/N kept her eyes wide open whilst Bakugou's were knitted shut. She laid her hands on his chest and shoved him away harshly, putting their distance at arms reach.

"Bakugou, what the hell? All of sudden you want to kiss me?" Y/N's face fell, contorting into a mixture of sadness and confusion. "You only kiss people you like. Not hate."

Bakugou moved towards Y/N slowly, a hint of a smile forming as he neared closer.

"And that's exactly why I did it, idiot," he proclaimed confidently, cupping the side of her face. The touch was so tender and gentle she forgot that it was Bakugou at first.

"You're toying with me, aren't you? The libido is probably still lingering. If you really liked me, then tell me the exact moment you did."

Without hesitation he said, "The first day of school. When you walked in."

Y/N slapped the hand from her face, her skin flushing red by his blunt confession.

"Stop lying. You were mean to me the first day of school. And every day after that. I don't think calling people a "weakling" or "stupid" constitutes as liking someone."

All he did was chuckle and continued scooting closer, eventually towering above her. She squirmed underneath him. She secretly missed having his height.

"You're absolutely stupid if you think I really meant any of that crap. I may have gone overboard on the whole berating thing, but that was just my way of pushing my feelings away, in hopes you'd improve better and not take shit from people like me."

"Ya know, it's kind of hard to detect that when you were practically spitting on my face."

He leaned down and pecked a chaste kiss on the crown of her forehead.

"You can call me all the names you want later. Kick my ass if ya want, but for now let me make it up to you," he whispers before planting his mouth to hers again, only this time she didn't protest.

Heat swirled within her as she watched Katsuki's eyes flutter close, enriched in the moment to open them, and gripped the base of her neck to apply more pressure into the kiss. The man guided her as he moved his plushed lips ontop of hers, consuming the pretty noises she made. And my, were they absoultey rich coming from her.

I want to hear more, the selfish thought banged repeatedly inside his lust filled mind.

Y/N nervosuly closed her eyes shut when Katsuki's wet tongue prodded the entrance of her tight, lipped mouth. Letting him take full control, Katsuki managed to enter the strong muscle into her wet mouth and explored the canvernous place with such eagerness, such tenacity. Like he's been dying to do this for as long as his skillful mind can remember. Y/N found herself moaning as Katsuki grabbed her waist and forcefully collieded their bodies together, her soft breasts pressed up against his hard chest. Her perky tits put him in a trance, remincseing back to the day when first touched them, the guiltiness eating him up from the inside-out. Katsuki slithered one of his hands to the taunt boob and gave it a firm squeeze, causing Y/N to squeak out in embarrasement. They still feel fucking amazing in his hands.

"You're so fucking cute," he drew back from her, already out of breath. Everything was hitting him like a tsunami. He can finally admit to himself that he's been wanting this since they became co-workers. Hell, since the fucking beginning. Younger Katsuki would deem him as a horny loser who lost at his own game, but he wasn't a damn kid anymore.

"K-Katsuki...bedroom?" her hands found their way back into his crisp locks, futher egging him to comply. The small action made him moan.

"Fuck yes," Katsuki growled out and in a haste hooked his arms underneath the back of Y/N's thighs, hoisting her in the air to lead them into the bedroom they're both familair with.

Journeying to her bedroom became a difficult task. If only she'd stop giving his neck, the most sensitve spot out of his entire body, kitten kisses then he'd be plowing her back by now. He grew weaker by the second as the shy, acute kisses trandsitioned into full on sucking and biting. Not that he was complaining.

Katsuki threw her down onto the bed, unable to contain his smile when she hiccuped a chorus of giggles. God, even her giggles are fucking contagious. Strong arms scooped her up momentarily, bringing her to the center of the bed. Grazing her aching spot was Katsuki's growing buldge. Y/N circled her arms around his tiny waist squeezing him closely as Katsuki rolled his hips downwards to meet hers. She seized Katsuki's bicep, whimpering, and rythmically pushed her groin towards his, the tin material of her shorts scraping the surface of his jeans deliciously. His head dragged down to her collarbones, panting softly, wetting the skin from the condesation of his breath.

"I want you so fucking bad, please," he managed to choke out in between the continous grinding.

Gaining a newfound confidence, Y/N mimiced the way how Bakugou unzipped her when they were still in opposite bodies and peeled back his briefs till his inflamed member popped out, smacking his lower belly. He cursed under his breath noticing the immense amount of pre-cum leaking from the head. As much as she wanted to lick it all up, there were other things to tend to. She shimmied out from her skimpy shorts and crop top, not wasting any time for lingering touches. But Y/N caught a menacing glare in his eyes. His attention was focused on something else. Looking down, she saw that she was sporting a sheer laced bra with matching panties. She definitely doesn't remember having these in her personal closet.

"You bought me lingerie?" Y/N tried to sound unfazed at the thought of Katsuki willingly purchasing these pretty undergarments for her. That must mean he's seen her boobs!

"Yeah? So what if I did. Your sense of fashion is nonexistent. I pitied you that much to where I bought you shit with my own money."

His face was stern, scarily resembling the times he'd be bashing someone's head on the concrete during a bloody battle. But his eyes told a different story. She couldn't quite pin point the time or place when she witnessed the same gleaming spark in those vermilion orbs, but she felt safe and wanted all in one.

So she began teasing the straps of her bra, head still in disbelief that the blonde underneath her bought it, and let the material slip off her shoulder seductively. Bakugou's breathing quickened as he watched y/n toy with the next strap. He stopped her midway.

"No," his fingers were ironically cold.

"No?" She questioned him, awkwardly frozen still on his lap. His evident boner pushing up against her sex, making her wet even more.

Numbly, Bakugou pulled up both of the straps to her bra and chuckled lightly to himself.

"I wanna fuck you with this on. It's been on my mind since I bought it," he admitted out loud.

Y/N held back a moan, his words carrying so much weight to them all the while directing it straight to her drenched pussy.

Without saying a word, y/n left acute kisses on Bakugou's neck, trailing it down further and further till she reached the leaking head of his member. He became antsy as she wrapped her petite hand around the base, fingers tracing the topography of his veins. Y/N saw the desperate look on his face and took all of him in her mouth, holding in the breath of oxygen she took before doing so. Bakugou hissed, teeth clamping down on his bottom lip nearly ripping the skin apart. This feels way better and more appropriate. He prefers her wet mouth over her fingers any day of the week.

Y/N sucked in her cheeks, allowing herself to take more of his member. The tip of his head eventually hit the back of her throat, causing her to gag and choke due to the sudden pressure.

"F-Fuck. Holy shit, keep going," Katsuki begged, tears swelling in his ducts already.

The saliva from her open mouth created a natural lubricant, making it easy for her to bob her head up and down. Bakugou's ears picked up the erotic wet squelching sounds coming from her as she kept up the brutal pace, the noise alone making him want to come undone. The sight of y/n slobbering on his dick is now engraved in his head. He let out a wanton moan when she played with his balls, recalling the memory of him performing the same ministration on himself with her beautiful hands.

He can feel the familiar sensation spreading down below, his throat constricting as the stimulation of her sucking and licking becoming too much. Before she could continue, Bakugou reached over and lifted her head by her hair.

"I can't hold it in any longer. I need to be inside you now," his voice was strained to point where it came out as a whisper.

Pushing her back gently, Bakugou latched his mouth onto hers as he spread her legs wide apart. Revealing a canal of her wetness dripping from her panties to the inner thighs. Bakugou licked his lips hungrily. Mentally slapping himself for not tasting her before she gave him head. He'll make sure to explore that endeavor later.

Lips still locked, Bakugou tugged the bottom half of her laced panties aside, strings of her glistening wetness shimmering, and positioned himself at her aching entrance. The tip of his cock teased her folds, coating it even more. He agonizingly went in slow circles, occasionally slapping her clit with it. Y/N's arms were above her head, clutching the linen sheets in anticipation. Katsuki smirked against her lips at her wrecked expression.

"Bakugou please...," y/n pleaded with her full chest. She wants to know how it feels to be wrapped around him. To be one with him. "Don't hold back. Just fuck me."

Bakugou's eyes grew darker after the demand, pure lust taking control over his body now. He sheathed into her quickly without taking his eyes off of her face. A quiet whimper left her throat when he fully bottomed out. He checked for any signs of y/n looking displeased or uncomfortable, but he got his answer when he felt her legs wrap around his torso, pulling him in as close as possible. Bakugou basks in at the sight of y/n sucking him completely, her legs fully bent back in an awkward position. He decides to pull his cock halfway out. y/n whimpers due to loss of friction but gets rewarded seconds later when Katsuki rams his cock inside again, pushing all his weight onto her.

"Oh, fuck, Katsuki!," she whines, instinctively clutching her walls around him.

"You're so tight for me huh baby? Can't help but to clamp around this dick," Katsuki sneered while pumping tentative thrusts into her.

His hands clasped both of her thighs now, pulling her towards him, urging her to move in a harmonious dance with him. Finding somewhat of a rhythm, y/n fucked Katsuki back by rolling her hips, a synapse of heat exchanging between them. Sweat starts dripping down from the crown of his forehead onto the peaks of her breasts. Lost in thought, he tipped his head forward and lapped up the remains of his salty musk, tongue expertly twirling around the taunt nipple. Y/N mewled, hands searching - reaching - for anything to ground herself, settling on interlocking her fingers with Katsuki's nitroglycerin drenched hands. She titled her head and took a whiff.

Caramel and soap

A popping sound went off in her ears. Katsuki released her swollen tit only to look up with hooded eyes, his infamous smirk on full display.

"Open your mouth," was all he said before raising one of his fingers that she was so embarrassingly fixated on moments ago. When she didn't obey Katsuki grabbed her by the jaw and shoved not one, not two, but three fingers in her mouth. Like with his cock, she couldn't handle the intensified pressure in the back of her throat, gagging instantaneously.

"Atta girl. Just take my fingers like a good bitch. Oh? You like it when I degrade you huh? Don't lie, you tightened instantly when I said that." Katsukis pace sped up rapidly, pumping into her cunt like a madman, fingers still lodge down her throat. Each thrust left her shuddering for more, his hips meeting hers to create a loud song, the noise drowning out her muffled screams.

It became hard to see now, a tunnel vision of just a crimson glow. Soon she feels herself becoming light. Katsuki grew impatient and flipped y/n on her stomach, a tiny oof rocked out from her, and inserted his member back into her stretched out cunt.

Y/N yelps as Katsuki's cock hits the sweet spot - fresh tears flooding down her flushed face, babbling nonsense into her pillow.

She caves, sobbing, "yes, yes, ohgod. you feel so good. you're so fucking good -ah katsuki!"

Looming over her trembling body, the blonde slows his harsh thrusts to a savagely slow grind. He lowly chuckles watching her writhe and wiggle her body in desperation.

"You think you can just come that easy? Beg for me to let you come!"

Smack!

A harsh sting rattled her lower back, causing her to bite down harshly on her lip to avoid showing any pain.

"Such an asshole..." y/n huffed out, oblivious to the way how Katsuki was preparing for her next punishment.

Smack! Smack!

"Not good. Ask nicely for me to fuck this pretty pussy into the mattress."

More whimpers into the tear stained pillow.

"P-Please Katsuki..." she begins, frustration growing exponentially with every word. "Fuck me. I need your cock. I always needed your cock Katsuki. Make me scream out your name when I come!"

She didn't even have time to process what she said before Katsuki enclosed his hand around her throat, forcefully dragging her writhing body to his chest, cranking her head in a 90 degree angle. Cock still warming up her insides.

"That's my girl," he said before kissing her lips again, devouring the sweet noises she made.

Her neighbors were in for a long night. - Both of their bodies the next morning faced more damage than any crusade of a patrol. Bruises painted the outskirts of y/n's body, trailing from her thighs to the divots of her breasts. Katsuki paid no mind to it, seeing how he can make a bloody lip a trailblazer look.

Even though no one wanted speak much about the issue at hand - last night was a pivotal moment for their relationship.

Because y/n wouldn't be making a fresh batch of coffee for the Katsuki Bakugou in her kitchen right now.

Because Bakugou wouldn't be lounging by her washing machine, waiting for the timer to go off so he can put her bed sheets in the dryer.

They found themselves sitting comfortably in silence - the soft whipping of car horns outside her cracked window - Katsuki blowing on his coffee before taking a sip. It all seemed unreal to her. In any other circumstance they'd be at each other's necks by now, screaming nuisances in the air. She considers this whole ordeal a ruse. But it isn't. Thank god it isn't. Because Katsuki never looked calmer or relaxed in his entire life till now. And she wasn't going to bat an eye away from this ground breaking phenomenon.

Intently watching him drink from across the table, she ponders if Katsuki liked her from the get go, and maybe just disguised his feelings with disgust towards her later on. The question will go unanswered, possibly until he confides and tells the story himself, but for now she was content not knowing the what if.

"How did you know I like black coffee?" Katsuki asks, quirking up an eyebrow at her.

Y/N takes a long drag from her mug, indulging in the sweet taste of the caramel creamer.

She smiles and says, "I don't know. Just took a wild guess."

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