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bodyguard: the first guard | part one | chan/reader

masterlist. part one of the previous story.

PART ONE.

( READ ON AO3. )

A sequel to the Bodyguard. Miroh's daughter is assigned a bodyguard of her own. The past is confronted when old friendships and new enemies are pushed to the brink.

pairing: bang chan/reader content info: sequel to the bodyguard (felix/reader). this is a new reader perspective. please note this story will contain a great deal of physical violence, some committed against the reader and some committed by her. this will include fighting, training, torture, and parental abuse. there will also be explicit sexual content. chapter word count: 7500 words.

enjoy <3

B E F O R E

Felix takes his place in formation. He is the youngest in the youth regiment at only ten years old, but he is no less competent. They all belong to the same special-ops program, a group of specially selected children raised for armed service. They are in the employ of Mister Miroh – and he says they will save the world.

The world is full of shadows, dank black holes and grimy stains so embedded that no regular agent can scrub them out. The young subjects of the soldier program are not regular agents. Their existence is their mission.

Felix has no life outside of the house of Miroh.

He stands straight. He looks forward. His feet are the appropriate width apart and his hands are folded behind his back. He holds this position as the trainers scour the lined formation, studying the young soldiers and reprimanding any flaw.

They need the best soldier for this mission. This is the most important assignment the regiment will ever receive. Felix has trained his whole life for this.

“Miroh has many enemies,” speaks the head trainer. It is a familiar speech, more important now than ever. “But our target is his local rival. This enemy family has been a corrupting force for generations, taking through inheritance what it has not earned. Miroh is not like The Enemy. Miroh is a solider like you. He came from nothing, fought for scraps, and built his own business one brick at a time. He understands the world and he will fix it through you. You will be his hands in the places he cannot reach. Your role is an honourable one.”

A trainer passes Felix. Felix straightens his spine that last infinitesimal degree. They touch his shoulder but do not reprimand him. It makes his pulse hammer with anticipation.

Felix is one of the best. There is a possibility they will pick him, if only because the actual best has a habit of—

“Oh, cheer up, mate,” Chris’s voice comes from a few rows back. “You know what they say: all work and no play makes—”

He is interrupted by a whoosh of air, probably a trainer punching him in the stomach. Felix closes his eyes so he does not wince.

“Bang Christopher Chan,” the head trainer says, his voice booming across the facility floor. “Step forward.”

Felix hears a frustrated sigh, then Chris stomps through the lines to reach the front row. Everyone looks at him.

He is an unassuming character. Not very tall but deceptively strong. Curly black hair and dimpled cheeks. Felix remembers that smile, the lilting and friendly, “Call me Chris,” when Felix was just six years old and first thrown into the regiment.

Bang “Call Me Chris” Chan is the best soldier here. Or he would be, if he did not hate the honour.

Even now he is glaring. Like the rest of them, he is dressed in combat clothes, the pitch black of Miroh. Unlike the rest of them, he stands with a lazy hunch in his shoulders. His dark hair is dishevelled and he scowls like a petulant teenager. He is thirteen going on fourteen but he is far from a normal teenage boy. Even compared to the rest of them, Chris is something special.

“Bang Chan,” the head trainer says. “You have been chosen for this assignment. Congratulations.”

Felix is not surprised. When Chris is forced to apply himself, it is abundantly clear he is the best soldier in the program by a huge margin. Felix is also not surprised when Chris responds with his usual verve and ire.

“Yeah, uh, you can go ahead and shove your congratulations up your ass, mate,” Chris says. He crosses his arms stubbornly. “Even if we kill this guy, do you really expect us to believe that’s the end of it? You’re putting us in the middle of a fight we didn’t start.”

He addresses the soldiers behind him just as much as the trainer. He even glances at Felix who glares back at him, unimpressed with the rebellious dramatics. Chris never learns. He gets more chances than the rest of them because he is so good. If he wanted, he could be unstoppable. He could use his strengths for good.

Instead, he just looks at the trainer and shakes his head.

“Nah,” Chris says. “You started this fight. I’m not ending it.”

A few of the adult guards move towards him. The gathered soldiers take a collective breath, watching with anticipation. It is common knowledge that thirteen year old Bang Chan can take a regular adult guard in a matter of seconds. When it comes to Chris, the question is not who will win, but will he fight at all?

He stands there like he has no intention of fighting. But before anyone can grab him, the door opens.

Miroh enters.

The room is so tense and silent, his footsteps reverberate like thunder. Miroh is every inch a soldier even in his blazer and tie. He walks with purpose, his face intent.

Walking behind him, keeping decent pace despite her smaller frame, is his daughter.

Miroh is a fighter who does not believe in unearned inheritance, so his daughter is trainee soldier like the rest of them. She is the same age as Chris. She trains with the regiment, one of the better agents, but she was not in contention for this particular job. People have tried to kill The Enemy before and it did not work, resulting in the death of innocents. Miroh wants a strong heir and he is not above putting her through the same grueling regime as the rest of them, but he will not recklessly risk her life.

It is fair to Felix. Miroh’s world makes sense. He believes in it. He believes in him.

So he is rapt as Miroh approaches.

The adult guards fall back and the young soldiers stand at attention. Miroh’s jaw is set with grim determination. He stares at Chris.

Chris drops his crossed arms. He is smart enough not to run his mouth at Miroh directly, but his frustration is clearly simmering beneath the surface. His fingers curl and uncurl in little fists.

Miroh stands in front of him. He speaks loud enough to address the entire room.

“I do not begrudge your desire for information,” Miroh says. “You’re soldiers, not animals. I acknowledge that you wish to know about the long-term goals for this company. But that is not your job or your purpose. This business is deliberately compartmentalized so if one cog in the machine fails, the apparatus does not cease to function. The results of your missions speak for themselves. What we’re doing is good work. That is all that matters.”

“Says you,” Chris blurts. Even he looks surprised by his own retort, though he does not take it back. He looks Miroh in the eye.

Miroh looks back. Then he reaches into the holster beneath his long coat and draws a gun. It is smooth, second-nature. Miroh is used to getting his hands dirty. His steady hand points the gun at Chris.

The trigger has not been pulled but the trainers already flinch. They know Chris is the best and they have worked hard to shape him, even if his stubborn mind is not molded as easily as his body.

Chris, himself, does not flinch. He stares down the barrel, unrelenting.

“You don’t want to do that.”

The soft interjection makes everyone pause. Heads turn and eyes dart, everyone’s attention transferring to the thirteen year old girl in the shadows.

Miroh does not lower the gun but he looks at his daughter. Chris looks at her too. Felix is not sure who is more bewildered.

The girl, herself, is calm. She has indubitably mastered a stoic countenance, not a hint of emotion anywhere on her young face.

“He’s the First Guard,” she states simply. “This is not worth killing him over.”

The First Guard. The other kids in the regiment sometimes call Chris that, though he doesn’t like it so it is usually behind his back. Chris does not like that he has been singled out. Chris does not like anything about the program.

This is Miroh’s second attempt at the youth soldier program. The operation raises soldiers from childhood to fight, to withstand pain, to feel no fear. This training is supplemented with medical treatments, hormonal injections that are only effective if administered in the crucial developmental years of childhood. It aids in building a body for soldiership, to take a hit just a little harder than most.

Chris is the only survivor from the first round of injections. He survived every test that followed. He is stronger for it, even stronger than the rest of them. He is a singular asset. He will never be replicated.

Thanks to The Enemy, none of them will ever be replicated. The Enemy recently attempted to recruit Miroh’s developers and killed them when he did not succeed. Detailed knowledge of the treatment died with them.

Miroh can never accomplish anything with his enemy on perpetual offense. Felix knows the stories like the rest of them, the generations of corruption wrought by a single wealthy family with its iron fist wrapped around the country’s throat. Miroh wants to free them. Felix knows if they kill this one man, if the household is left to rot in the hands of its weak successor, then Miroh can finally set everyone free.

It is a noble honour.

Chris does not see it that way. He never has. Maybe it is different for him, having watched those other children die. Felix understands it was a sacrifice, but a necessary one. The Enemy cannot be killed by a regular soldier. So many more innocents will die if he is left unchecked. Surely that is worth the price of a few soldiers. Wars have casualties. It will be worth it.

It has to be worth it.

Bang Chan, the First Guard – call me Chris – takes a deep breath. It sounds frustrated. He glares at Miroh’s daughter who is unaffected.

Felix looks between them. Then his gaze lands on another soldier in the formation. Seo Changbin is in the first row, a boy one year older than Felix. Not the best soldier, not second best, but not the worst. His most notable trait is his humour and his friendship with Miroh’s daughter. They are close – at least as close as anyone can be down here.

Changbin is looking at her right now, his gaze searing with intensity. Their eyes meet briefly and he shakes his head, a small motion, just enough for her to see. Despite his clear warning to stop, she is not dissuaded from addressing her father.

“With all due respect, sir,” she says to Miroh, “Eliminating Bang Chan would be a mistake. He’s the best soldier in the operation.”

“The best,” Miroh says. He presses the barrel of the gun against Chris’s forehead. Chris goes tense and everyone takes a breath.

His daughter is still unmoved. She is a quiet character in general. Felix has barely heard her speak never mind argue. She keeps her head down and goes about her work obediently. She is a good daughter and a better soldier.

Maybe that is why Miroh hesitates.

“He is not the best if this is how he conducts himself,” Miroh says.

“Father, aren’t you the best at what you do?” she asks without hesitation. “Surely a proper soldier like you should be able to control a little boy. Are you saying you are not capable of that task? It takes no skill to shoot a teenager. What message do you send to the rest of us if you have to resort to desperate measures to keep your own army in line?”

The silence is deafening. Even with a gun plastered to his forehead, a little dimple of amusement pops in Chris’s cheek. Changbin exhales. Felix is sick of standing still but he holds his form despite the growing tension.

The seconds feel like hours. Eventually, Miroh lowers the gun.

“Guards,” he says. The adult guards are immediately at his side. “My daughter has faith in our order. I would be remiss as a father to fail her.” He looks down at Chris and speaks with a snarl in his upper lip, “Let us all try our best to succeed.”

Miroh snaps his fingers and points at Chris. The guards swarm him, two of them taking an arm each. At least Chris is smart enough not to struggle. He is an indomitable force but he does not have an army at his call. He lets himself be seized.

“Take him to the Cell,” Miroh says.

An instinctive hiss leaves the mouths of a few soldiers. They have all been trained to withstand various degrees of torture, but the Cell is one of the worst. Even Felix shudders at the mention of it. It is a small windowless room buried deep in the bunker of the training facility, a small prison cell with no light and no warmth. Everyone has taken a turn in isolation, camped on the hard ground in the damp and cold and dark. Down there, minutes feel like days, days like years. At least literal torture causes sensation. The Cell is a great black nothing.

Chris does not argue, knowing it would be useless, but he does glare at Miroh as he is hauled away.

“Take her too,” Miroh says.

With a snap of his fingers, two more guards surface and grab his daughter. Her stoic expression finally fractures, true surprise bursting on her face.

“Me?” she asks.

“As my daughter, your perspective is acknowledged and appreciated,” he says. “As a soldier, you need to remember your place. Throw them in together. Double the people, double the time.”

Felix would not want to be shoved in that tiny space with another person. Certainly not if the trade was double the duration.

But then, Felix does not like company. He does not understand the exhausted look on Changbin’s face. Changbin isn’t being punished, so why would he feel anything?

Felix watches. He holds his form even where others begin to wane.

The guards and their prisoners leave. The door closes and Miroh looks over the regiment.

“Who’s the second best?” Miroh asks.

There is a beat of silence, the scene settling. The trainer finally clears his throat and looks down at his papers.

“Lee Felix Yongbok,” he says in that booming voice. Felix’s heart soars just as high. “Step forward.”

Felix marches forward, keeps his eyes ahead. Miroh approaches him. Felix does not flinch, not even when Miroh circles him like prey.

“He’s young,” Miroh says. “What do you have to say for yourself, boy?”

“I want to do good,” Felix answers. “I’m ready.”

They put a gun in his hand and a beanie on his head. He enters the world looking like a normal ten year old boy.

He puts a bullet in the head of The Enemy.

He suspects one day he will be back for the son and granddaughter.

He hopes it will be soon.

P R E S E N T D A Y

Despite your father’s remarkable propensity for making you feel like a child, you are a grown adult. You are intelligent and conniving and dangerously competent. In some ways, having been raised like a soldier beneath his merciless iron fist, you are more steadfast, more severe. Your life is carved into his, your fates tethered as one to his success. You are your father’s daughter, a Miroh, irrevocably a product of his upbringing.

You do not show weakness. You do not throw tantrums. You might spend twenty minutes in the lobby bathroom, splashing cold water on your face, and you might spend another five minutes shining your shirt buttons, then ten more folding and re-folding the lapel of your long coat – but walking into his office almost forty minutes late is not the same thing as throwing a tantrum.

You think you’re composed until you walk through that door, then the week’s anxieties expand in the cage of your chest. You are capable but you are not stupid. Miroh might be your father but he is a totalitarian man of influence and it would be foolish not to be wary of his power.

You are more apprehensive than you appear, but you march in there like a soldier, shoulders back and head high. You inherited your father’s marble expressions and stone stature. No one would ever guess your palms were so clammy, your neck hot and damp with sweat.

“I’m here,” you say by way of greeting. You are not characters to indulge in artificial small talk. There is no affection here and pretending otherwise is a waste of everyone’s time.

“I won’t bother with pre-amble,” he says, predictably. ”You know why you’re here.”

“I do,” you say. “And I don’t agree with it.”

“I know you don’t.”

The argument ends just like that. You knew it was a dead-end protestation before you opened your mouth, but you had to say something. You are adamantly opposed to your father’s latest imposition.

A personal, twenty-four hour bodyguard. For you.

The decision was not made lightly. Your father’s business rival perished just under a month ago, the bloody circumstances extreme and mysterious. Until Miroh can ascertain what truly transpired at that house on that fateful night, then he cannot be too careful when it comes to guarding his own legacy.

Your father is a military tactician and business man. He is in the habit of bracing for every eventuality with a detached, pragmatic determination. Of course he wants you watched. This bodyguard assignment is imperative in protecting his house.

“I have a security team,” you say.

“They are insufficient,” he replies.

“I trained them myself.”

“They are too numerous.”

“I’ll cut down the roster.”

“Rotations open vulnerabilities.”

“And who’s to replace them?” Your patience snaps. “One of your dogs?”

“You are also one of my dogs,” he says, voice soft for such a venomous retort. It stings like a slash across your chest. “I would not disparage them.”

“Oh, of course, my apology.” You speak with the same false gentility. “What a thoughtful master you are.”

“I must be,” he says, “because the dogs still come when I call.”

There is so much contempt in his voice. He looks at you with more hatred than he ever directed to his worst enemy. It makes you want to leap across this room and throttle him with your bare hands, like you can shake the animosity right out of him.

You are too old to feel like a little girl on the verge of tears, demanding to know why her father does not love her. You have long since accepted there is no easy answer to that question. You would say that Miroh is simply not capable of love but you know that is not true. He can love. He just doesn’t love you.

You are the perfect heir, his exact replica in ability and countenance, but it is not enough. It will never be enough. No matter what you do, no matter how faithfully you obey him. You have bloodied your hands in the shadows while he takes the public credit. You have helped build the reputation of the family name. You have given him everything.

He rewards you with this.

You are not stupid. Regardless of his excuses, he does not want you under surveillance for your protection. You both know your personal training puts you leagues ahead of the overwhelming majority of agents. Your security team is a superfluous accessory as is.

Miroh has just witnessed the collapse of a previously impenetrable legacy. This does not put him at ease. The battle technician accounts for every possible manoeuvre. You know he foresees his own downfall just as easily as he sees his success. Unseated before his time, reputation annihilated, replaced by someone as savage and persistent as him.

A bodyguard will not protect you from the world. It will protect Miroh from you.

For all your inner turmoil, you are a steadfast rock, standing across your father in his office and exchanging a knowing glance. You are just like him. Of course he is scared of you. Of course he hates you. Of course he needs you.

The feeling is devastatingly mutual.

“Who is it?” you ask, calmly.

“Agent Slump, step forward,” your father calls one of the guards posted at the back wall. “This is your new bodyguard officer. He will accompany you at all times, day and night, including your office hours and service train—”

The agent steps forward as your father speaks. You draw your gun out of your chest holster and shoot when the man steps into your periphery. It blows through his shoulder and knocks him down, all in a piercing shriek that reverberates around the small room. The other guards flinch in the ringing aftermath.

You look at your father and re-holster your gun. You lay the lapel of your long coat back over your chest.

“He leaves something to be desired,” you say. “I would have thought you learned your lesson with these undertrained toy soldiers. Maybe a better bodyguard would have kept your wife alive.”

Your own mother died during complications in childbirth. Miroh remarried a few years later, a woman he genuinely seemed to cherish, a woman who was killed in retaliation for a deal gone sour. Nothing fills your father with more righteous fury than the mention of her. Miroh loved her almost as much as he hates you.

You know better than to retaliate with such childish rejoinders, but you want to hit him where it hurts, see something real on that stoic face. It garners you a flicker of rage, bathed in all that loathing, and it makes you smile.

“Let me know if you can find a competent replacement,” you say. “Until then, I have work to do.”

You turn heel and march to the door. The guards move out of your way despite lack of command. They have never respected you the way they respect your father, but they do fear you and it works the same way.

You are dressed for the office but after an unproductive hour spent stewing in agitation, you give up. The head of your security team accompanies you across town to the primary training facilities. Hidden in plain site, here Miroh has trained and developed some of his most deadly assets.

You are one of those assets. You spent your childhood in this facility, training among an elite selection of children, raised for the purpose of violence and victory. It was a unique program. It has never been revived, the medicant administered to the children lost and yet to be replicated.

You are one of the few still living.

Your training was relatively more lax. As Miroh’s daughter, the trainers could not let you die. But neither he nor they had qualms with letting you suffer. Miroh never admonished them and you never complained, at the time naively thinking that if you could prove yourself then he would care about you.

A foolish aspiration long since abandoned.

But the training has served you well over the years. It certainly comes in handy when you need to fucking punch something.

Your security team is comprised of regular soldiers so it does not take much to best them in a fight. The exertion is nonetheless liberating. You have always felt more at ease in action than behind a desk. Combat clothes are less stifling than formalwear. There is a reason Miroh never paraded you at parties the way his late enemy did with his late daughter. Your place is in a fight and always has been.

After a few rounds in the ring, you stop to rest. Your team knows when to leave you alone to brood. You lay back on the mat, flat in the ring.

There is a moment, as often passes, where you question your entire life. It has been a long, vicious fight, clawing your way to your position, that the road back out seems like an impossibly arduous task. Too much has happened, too much pain and loss. It has to mean something.

You cannot surrender now. The very thought has you reeling, physically painful to even consider.

This is where you belong. It is an irrevocable truth. You are a Miroh.

“Yah, murder princess,” comes a voice and the thud of booted steps. “Just three rounds? Tsk. You’re getting soft.”

You roll over, grinning even though you know better. You look up at Changbin who is dressed in similar fatigues, his bulky arms crossed over his broad chest, his dark bangs brushing his smirking face.

“I was waiting for a real fight,” you reply. “Looks like I’m still waiting.”

He barks out a laugh.

Changbin is one of the few survivors of your father’s special-ops program. Unlike others who were imported from your father’s overseas operations, Changbin was raised right here alongside you. You do not even remember meeting him; he has just always been there.

He is a few years younger but he always held your attention, both because of his skill and his ability to retain a sense of humour. It was an often sought breath of relief in the conditions of your training.

You look at Changbin now, grinning and more jovial than someone like him should be. It is a testament to his resolute strength that he can hold a dual personality inside him. He has always been that way. He can flip between a stoic soldier and goofy guy in the blink of an eye. It is part of the reason you have never let yourself entirely trust him. Though you are fond of him, he is like you: just a little too good at what he does.

“Haha, the princess thinks she’s a comedian now,” Changbin says. He nudges you with the tip of his boot. “If you want to make me laugh, you should try fighting.”

“Oh, I see.” You cannot help but rise to his bait, like always. He is a perpetual little brother even though he is not your real brother and certainly not little anymore.

You swipe at him and he jumps back. Just like that, the pair of you fall into a long practiced dance.

It is not the gentle footwork of a real dance, but a violent collision and parry of limbs. It is just as musical and in sync, and somehow almost as tender. You know each other’s weaknesses as well as strengths. You know how to beat each other and how to prolong surrender, where to give advantage so the other can continue. You used to fight until the trainers called a tie, saving you both from selection for the loser’s punishment. To everyone else, it looked like a fight. To you, it was a conversation and consolation. Even if you had been in solitude for weeks, in that moment you were not alone.

Changbin reads you now, in every swipe and jump and dodge. In your matching black clothes and matching strength you collide and converse. Your frustration strains in every vein and his enquires are plain in the deliberate pause of his complicated steps.

“Daddy problems, ah, murder princess?” he asks, grinning.

He catches your fist before it collides with that smirk, twisting your wrist so you are forced to follow with a heavy drop. You roll together, a back and forth until you individually spring to your feet and face each other. You wait for the next move with equal calculation.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” you say, batting a hit.

“Really?” he asks. “Because there are rumours in the pig pen that the general was looking for a big strong soldier to protect his little princess.”

He lets you clock his jaw but it is a satisfying smack nonetheless. A drop of aggravation is wrung out with your sweat. You wipe your brow.

“There was a change of plans,” you say.

Changbin laughs. He is loud, always so loud for someone who can be so stealthy.

“Of course!” he shouts. “Keeping the doctors busy today, are you?”

He really knows you too well. It is mutual. You side-step a movement and body-check him.

“Guess that’s what the general gets for choosing from the pig pen,” you say. You infuse your father’s title with all the sardonic venom it deserves and pig pen with the same playful mockery as always.

“Don’t be jealous,” Changbin teases right back, catching your taunt as easily as he catches your punch. “If you keep practicing, one day you might be almost as good as me.” He has been making the same wisecrack for years, laughing to himself every single time.

“Funny,” you say dryly.

“I am the best,” he continues to tease, embellishing his movements with an unnecessarily dramatic flair. “I’m sure that’s why the general doesn’t want me on bodyguard duty, right? I need a real job, not protecting the princess.”

There are a few rapid-fire moves, too taxing for speech. Then you manage, “Right.” You take his offered opening and catch the back of his knee with yours. “I’m sure it has nothing to do with your probation after the last field mission.”

You expect to take him down but you do not expect the weight of his crash. It is not like Changbin to fully collapse under you, almost like he was truly surprised.

You are just as dazed by the impact. You loom over him, staring bemusedly, like you have no idea how he got on the floor.

It is not like Changbin to take a hit so personally. Of all your father’s soldiers, he was always the best at shrugging off his individuality in favour of a mission. He does not tend to dwell on his losses anymore than he lingers in his victories. The past is a heavy thing to carry into battle. He knows to leave it behind. There is always another job around the corner.

“You’re not still upset about that?” you ask.

The mission was shortly before the enemy’s downfall. Years ago, one of your father’s child soldiers betrayed an operation. Lee Felix switched sides and the enemy did not let your father forget it. But Miroh is an ever-calculating general who knows which battles are worth fighting. After one failed attempt at seizing the enemy’s daughter, he waited until the enemy came to him instead.

When he finally did, you caught him. You sent Changbin after his daughter and waited for the enemy’s imminent surrender. He retracted his operation but Felix, that loose canon of a traitor-turned-bodyguard, fucked the Mirohs a second time and disappeared with her. They all died a week later.

Changbin was noticeably uneasy after the job, but you did not think much of it. You were not worried about Changbin taking the mission too personally. Yes, Felix was a former soldier in this regiment, but Changbin is not sentimental. You chalked up his despondency to his loss. It is not like him to let a target slip through his fingers.

“Upset,” Changbin says. “Me?”

You know him too well. The joking tone is diminished, buried beneath the weight of his gloom. He tries to smile but it does not fit on his face, too big and too wide of a grin.

You tip your head, your regard scrutinous. You have no idea how to talk to him with real depth. You look at each other and understand it, but vocalizing it is another matter entirely.

Like he can read your thoughts, his face scrunches up and he says, “Yah, you, cut that out!” He shoves you as he gets to his feet, both of you stumbling. “I’m fine,” he says. “Come on, hit me again.”

You are certainly better at conversing that way.

You take a starting stance but you are interrupted when someone from your security team whistles. It is a warning whistle, the sharp tone a code for the arrival of your father.

You and Changbin straighten, turning to watch as Miroh approaches with a flank of armed guards behind him. They are all dressed for combat in their black uniforms and black masks. The half-mask is regulation for all field agents. It covers the bottom half of the face and serves as protection in the event of smoke from explosions or exposure to noxious aerosols and gasses.

It also undoubtedly turns a human soldier into a less-than-human figure. It obscures features, faces, flaws.

Sharp eyes stare at you, every face uniform and expressionless. There are half a dozen of them. Your father’s usual security detail trails behind them. Your security team eyes them in turn. The whole room feels like a pot about to boil over.

“What is this?” you demand.

“This is my adherence to our agreement,” your father says.

“Our agreement?” you ask.

“Yes.” He stops in the middle of the room, standing straight and steady. He looks at ease, like he barges in here with a small army every day. “You tasked me to find a competent replacement bodyguard,” he says. “So here is how this will go: whichever agent can beat you in a fight, right here, right now, will be your new bodyguard. If you defeat them all, I will drop the issue and leave the matter of your personal security to you.”

You look at his soldiers then at him. You force yourself to composure. It is not like you to instigate so much confrontation. You prefer to keep your head down and get the job done. Your father does not love you but he knows your work is reliable. Usually that is enough.

This entire escapade with the enemy has unravelled everyone. The house of Miroh should be more stable than ever, your father taking over assets left behind by the enemy, but the whole world feels changed. It is off its axis. You feel unsteady, your body braced for attack with no reprieve. You feel like you are looking at the world through someone else’s eyes. Everything feels wrong.

In difficult times, you fall back on training and soldier instinct. You are a battle technician, just as competent as your father. He is not going to drop the issue and this is a fair compromise. You can fight these guards. Half a dozen well-trained field agents is a handful but not impossible. Your body is built to be a little faster, a little stronger, to take a hit harder.

“Fine,” you say, a single grating syllable. You bite the word. Through clenched teeth, you add, “Let’s do this.”

You and Changbin exchange a look. He reflects your confusion, knowing you can easily take these guards, knowing Miroh knows that too. It makes you feel even more uneasy. Your father must be planning something but you do not know what. But you cannot control him. You can only control yourself. You can fight these guys. You can win.

You take a swig of water then stretch. The first guard takes a position in the fighting ring. You brace yourselves with a starting stance, measuring the other.

You wait, sweat dripping down your brow. You feel their eyes on you, every soldier, your father, your friend. Changbin stands off to the side, sitting in shadows.

It is where your kind belongs. You are not regular soldiers.

The fight begins and you take him down swiftly. Your game with Changbin was just that, a game. This is real. This is a battle. This is what your body was made to do.

One by one, you take out the agents. They charge at you, they swing at you, they even try to taunt you. You deflect it all. Your fist connects with a temple, your foot their knee. You pop joints and flip soldiers and springboard back to action.

You are getting tired by the last soldier but you do not let it show. You sweat profusely, breathing hard, but you run at him and take him down. Your bodies are a swirl of limbs and powerful movements. Then he is on the ground, groaning, and you are rising, victorious.

“Well?” you say. You cannot help but grin, elated from the sheer exertion of exercise, and proud of your triumph. There is a small, stupid part of you that hopes underneath everything, your father is proud too. That he must relent and admit you are good.

Miroh just stands there, unmoving and unaffected. It dims your smile, frustration returning. It simmers hot beneath your skin. It distracts you.

Pain explodes in your left cheek, so sharp and searing it turns the world dark for half a second. You see lightning flashes as you stumble, falling onto your side. There is another guard in front of you, one you did not even see enter the room. Did he drop down from the ceiling?

He is a blurry shape. You blink the stars out of your eyes, holding your throbbing head until clarity returns.

Then your stomach drops.

It is not a guard looming over you. He wears the same black combat uniform and the same half-mask, but everything about him is different, everything from his build to his stance to the ice cold slash of his dark eyes. Emotionless. Empty.

“Ah, I see,” you say, a breathless slur of words. You cannot stop your voice from shaking. “The First Guard. I should have known.”

There are only two living soldiers who can fight at your level. The only two survivors of your father’s special-ops program. One of them is Seo Changbin.

The other is Bang Christopher Chan.

He stands over you in his combat gear, unflinching and barely human. Even without the mask, you doubt you would see any humanity. There is not a single shred of the boy he once was. Chan was a problem for Miroh, once. That was a very long time ago.

That boy, Chris, is dead. He has been dead for years. The soldier in front of you is someone – something – else.

You get to your feet, slowly and shakily. He watches you. He does not speak and he barely blinks, his gaze a meticulous perusal, his body braced for anything.

Chan has the bloodiest, dirtiest hands of them all. He does your father’s worst missions, assignments with details that even you are barred from knowing. He is terrifyingly efficient, deadlier than any weapon in Miroh’s arsenal, and that is saying something because it is a substantial arsenal.

Your own hands are dirty but it is nothing in comparison. He is fast, he is deadly, and he feels nothing. He looks at you like a machine scans a calculation. A broken bone here, a fracture there. You are certain he is already picturing a hundred different ways to contort your broken body.

“Right,” you say.

You are a strategist. You know how to fight. You know when not to fight. But it is like instinct. You look at him and something says fight him.

You feel your father’s eyes on you. You are not sure who is teaching who a lesson.

You take a swing at Chan. He dodges it. He swings too, faster, but you anticipate it. You tuck and roll, moving faster than you have ever moved in your life. You are seldom pushed to the brink of your abilities like this. Even half your skillset is double what most adversaries possess.

But Chan is too much. You spend the fight on constant defense, blocking swing after swing, hit after hit. You take advantage of the smallest opening and crack your fist on his chest, only to realize he deliberately opened himself to it. He grabs your wrist and twists you around before you can retaliate. You are not used to such brute strength. You follow his twisting to prevent a sprain or fracture, which he anticipates. He grabs you by the throat and yanks you into him, right off your feet.

You choke, blue swarming your rapidly blurring vision. He slams you down on the ground, further disorienting you, still clutching your neck.

You dive somewhere deep inside your head. You collect yourself as per your training, then swing your knee up between his legs. It does not fully incapacitate him but it does discombobulate him. He lets go of your throat and you slide between his legs, jumping up behind him. He turns just in time to take a kick to the stomach, blasting him backwards to the end of the ring. He prevents a worse fall by forcing himself down on one knee.

You take the second he is down to catch your breath. You try to calculate your next move but your adrenaline is dwindling. Hopelessness settles in your chest. You cannot win this fight. At best, you can prolong it, but—

For the second time, you are blind-sided by pain. It shatters down the right side of your body, a winded shove that blows right through you. But it is not Chan. Chan is still getting to his feet.

You look up only for Changbin to bring his fist down in your face. It knocks you off your feet and you land with a heavy thud. Your heart races inside your aching chest.

You have never fought Changbin like this.

“What are you doing?” you hiss when he grabs you by the neck and drags you onto your feet. You come to your senses and fight back, but you are hurt and tired and he has been recuperating.

He punches you clear across the jaw and knocks you down again. The world tilts sideways, spotted with black and blue. Changbin drops on top of you. You cannot even wrestle him, so disoriented. He gets you flat on your front and pins you down.

Then he takes a second to whisper in your ear, “Stop fighting me, murder princess. Who do you want as a bodyguard? Me or that thing?”

If you were not so tired, you might have laughed.

Your life is so backwards. Changbin is helping you by beating the shit out of you. But it is undoubtedly helpful. He is right. If Chan beat you, then Chan would be your bodyguard. Your father would win. He would have one of his agents glued to your side. An agent you would never be able to shake no matter what you did.

But it is not Chan over you. It is your friend. Someone from the same shadows as you. Someone your father was not anticipating.

Changbin grabs you by the neck and yanks you up. You look at your father with blood dribbling out of your mouth.

“I win,” Changbin says.

Your father does not look happy. That should upset you. You and Miroh are bound as one.

But it gives you a thrill. His abomination of a soldier looms to the side, still staring at you, like he expects the fight to continue any second. You suppose Chan’s life is one big fight and always has been.

It doesn’t have to be that way for you, you think to yourself, a dangerous thought, one conjured by the feeling of your only friend holding you in his arms. It looks like a death grip to anyone else, purely technical, but you feel it, the way he cups your injuries carefully despite his bulk and power.

Miroh is scared. He is getting desperate. He wants you brought to heel. In doing so, he is only stoking your resentment.

That pot starts to boil over.

“Well?” you say, in a voice as rough as gravel.

“Yes,” your father says with a petty little snarl. “I suppose you have won, haven’t you?”

Changbin helps you off the ground. You suffer through your pains. You can feign steadiness for another minute, for long enough to retaliate.

You climb out of the ring. You pass the other injured guards. You walk right up to your father.

Miroh stares at you. You have identical glares, measuring each other. Two soldiers with the same fire in their blood.

You punch him. It is a nice sharp shot across the face, using all the strength you have left. You are one of the best. Despite your injuries, it is still one fucking hell of a punch.

Miroh falls back in an undignified sprawl, hitting the hard ground with a painful thud. He is good but he is not you. A fall like that would not have broken your bones the way it clearly fractures his arm.

“Until next time, father,” you say.

You step over him. His security team immediately surrounds him, helping him up. Your team comes to your aid as well. Changbin follows too, coming right up to your side. He grabs your arm and slings it around his shoulder, taking the brunt of your weight seconds before you would have collapsed.

You look back over your shoulder. The injured guards are tending their wounds. Chan is looming in the background like a living shadow. Miroh is clutching his arm and staring at you with fury pouring out of him. You walk away, smiling despite your injuries.

Your father should know better than to hit you.

You always hit back.

#bang chan x reader #chan x reader #bang chan x you #chan x you #bang chan fanfiction #bang chan smut #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids fanfiction #skz fanfiction #skz x you #stray kids x you

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deecotan · 5 months

Text

🌱 Deeco's ZoSan Fic Rec List 🐥

Hello hello! This is going to be a slight rework for my zosan fic rec list, because I wanted to re-organize it and add some new fics while I'm at it, so this is going to be longer than the first. Feel free to check it out!

Latest update: November 2023

Because I started making this list long before August 2023, I won't add any fics that specifically take place in live-action setting because I haven't read much of them yet. I might consider updating this list to add fics with live-action setting in the future.

—GEN/T FICS

Sketches of Life (and Love) by Fledgling (Teen, 2.9k)

An exploration of a headcanon where Sanji likes to draw in his free time. This fic always leaves me with a warm feeling every time I read it because how endearingly sweet it is. It’s basically a domestic fluff story about both ZoSan and the Strawhats crew in general.

green with envy blues by adietxt (Gen, 1.5k)

A cute fic about Zoro being jealous. Jealous!Zoro has been one of those tropes that make me screech like a feral animal every time I come across it and this fic does exactly that. It’s pretty short and simple but it captures the characters very well. It’s set during pre-timeskip which makes it even better to me because pre-TS Zoro possesses that boyish quality that post-TS Zoro doesn’t necessarily have anymore. OTHER FICS FROM THIS AUTHOR: Fuck, Marry, Kill (or, how Usopp becomes the best matchmaker of the sea without really trying) (Teen, 4.8k) — Usopp introduces the Strawhats to a game that ends up causing Sanji to overthink things - a lot of things.

Old Men Blues by postmoderne (Gen, 2k)

Quoting directly from the fic’s summary, “Sanji and Zoro: two ancient fucks (in love).” because this is exactly that, a story about old men ZoSan. Old Zoro and old Sanji are both still as stubborn as ever and it’s endearing. OTHER FICS FROM THIS AUTHOR: Something Golden (Teen, 1.6k) — Canon reimagining where Zoro met Sanji at the Baratie pre-series.

Meet me under the orange tree by candelina (Gen, 3.9k)

A canon divergence AU where Zoro and Sanji met as kids, as Zeff opened up Baratie in Zoro’s hometown. It’s an adorable and heartwarming story of little Zoro and little Sanji’s friendship. There’s also a part two which is also worth reading. OTHER FICS FROM THIS AUTHOR: The whole world will know (2.3k) — Old men ZoSan fic, this one involves Zoro deliberately showing himself to the Marines for god knows what. It’s sweet, it’s beautiful, and it shows that Zoro is as reckless and idiotic as he is a loving, devoted husband.

Zoro’s Boyfriend, Who Lives In Canada by donutsandcoffee (Gen, 2.6k)

Modern AU, where Zoro’s friends try to stop him from believing that his imaginary, totally made-up boyfriend actually exists. Of course Zoro’s boyfriend doesn’t actually exist, because with the way Zoro describes him he’s way too perfect to exist and how can anyone so perfect actually exist? A hilarious story of misunderstandings. OTHER FICS FROM THIS AUTHOR: Prison Blues (Teen, 2.8k) and it’s a long way forward (Teen, 5k) — serve as both a ZoSan story and a great Sanji character study.

The Three of Swords by 8ball (Teen, 30k, multi-chapters & completed)

A medieval AU with knight Zoro and prince Sanji, a concept that starts to really grow on me after I begin to read this fic. In this story, Zoro is a cursed knight appointed to serve Sanji, a kind-hearted prince whom Zoro eventually pines over. It’s a beautiful take of prince and knight AU; devoted knight Zoro is something that I didn’t know I need. It also has a sequel. OTHER FICS FROM THIS AUTHOR: The Ocean's Child series — a canon-divergence mermaid!Sanji AU

(I Want) Someone to Love Me by three_days_late (Teen, 7.9k)

Sanji is about to turn 17, so he hopes that he can get his first kiss before that. A cute high school AU that involves everyone wanting to kiss Sanji (honestly, who doesn’t) but only one person gets to actually do it. OTHER FICS FROM THIS AUTHOR: Blood Red (Teen, 400 words) — this might be a little biased because this fic is inspired by my comic, but it’s also a perfectly good reason why I must add it here; this fic is able to capture the spirit of the comic perfectly. If you want to read a short exposition of Zoro showing his darker, yet protective side, then this fic is worth the read. Warning for blood & hints of violence. The Christmas Swap (Teen, 37k, multi-chapters & completed) — a modern AU in which Sanji and Reiju switch partners during Christmas so they can attend their family gathering without having to come out as queer. It’s a wonderful story about family, relationships, and the struggles of maintaining those things as a queer person. The Only Way Out (Is Through) (Teen, 4.8k) — a beautiful Prince Sanji and Knight Zoro story, where circumstances forced them to separate & unable to be together. It also has a side Nami/Vivi. I Have Loved You for 1000 Years (I'll Love You for 1000 More) (Teen, 8.9k) — Another Prince Sanji & Knight Zoro AU involving time travel & the sacrifices you go through for the ones you love.

Curly Angel by APTX & translated to English by NMTD (Teen, 9.4k, two chapters & completed)

In this alternative canon universe, everyone has a guardian angel, and Zoro’s just happened to be Sanji. Hilarity ensues.

Let me be your Inspiration by TheWanderers (Teen, 19.8k)

College AU where Sanji is an artist/painter - another fic that explores Sanji as someone with an artistic streak, but also so much more. It’s a beautiful story that starts out with Zoro having to model for Sanji’s painting but ends up falling in love with him. I love the way the author adapts the characters’ canon backstory into this universe.

Retrogade by Hazel_Athena (Teen, 21.9k, two-chapters & completed)

Sanji got badly injured after a fight, and ends up losing a big chunk of memories - it doesn’t bother him too much until he notices how weird Zoro starts to act around him. A really good temporary amnesia fic with some really delicious pining!Zoro material. OTHER FICS FROM THIS AUTHOR: Medieval ZoSan series — a medieval arranged marriage AU. Renegade Queen (Teen, 76k, multi-chapters & completed) — a canon divergent AU where Sora lives and takes all her children with her - it's more of a Vinsmoke family story with ZoSan on the side.

Nothing Happened (Gen, 16k, multi-chapters & completed)

An angsty survival story where the Strawhats get stranded in a middle of the seas with no means to escape and rapidly declining food stock. This fic does a really good job at keeping you in suspense, and the way it handles Zoro and Sanji's relationship destroyed me emotionally. OTHER FICS FROM THIS AUTHOR: Each A Love Song (Gen, 8.6k) — Sanji is frustrated because Zoro’s surprisingly popular with women when he doesn’t even like them back. A story of a confused Sanji trying to find love and being the World’s Most Oblivious Man. Three Blades (Gen, 5k) — a Western AU where Sanji is a saloon owner and Zoro is a bounty hunter.

The Melody of Missing You by BleuReivers (Teen, 11k)

Zoro is forced to confront his feelings in the aftermath of Sanji's departure during the Whole Cake Island arc. I love the way this story examines Zoro's softer, more vulnerable side in a painfully beautiful way, and the whole fic has this hazy, dream-like vibe that really fits with the plot.

Sick Day by Styx_in_the_mud (Teen, 1.3k)

Zoro gets sick, and Sanji takes care of him. A short sick!fic with a simple premise but very cute nonetheless.

—MATURE/EXPLICIT FICS

Deep by CharlieNozaki (Mature, 171k, multi-chapters & completed)

This is There Are Many Benefits to Being A Marine Biologist: The Fic. Okay jokes aside, this is a modern fantasy AU fic where merpeople exist and it mainly tells about marine biologist Sanji and merman Zoro. It has an interesting premise and deals with some heavy subjects in later chapters, hence the Mature tag. It has a sequel, though it's currently ongoing. OTHER FICS FROM THIS AUTHOR: The Game — a Modern AU with slight fantasy-ish element, where Zoro and Sanji are young orphans who find a mysterious game that might be able to change their lives.

Delphinium by toastie_bread (Mature, 39k, multi-chapters & completed)

Set in modern AU, stylist Sanji meets with police detective Zoro after his beauty salon got robbed; a cute rom-com story. There's also a side LawLu.

Steady, As She Goes by auspizien (Explicit, 155k, multi-chapters & completed)

I’ve always loved auspizien’s fics and this is the one fic that made me fall in love with their writing. This is a modern AU story where Zoro is an ex-agent with PTSD who meets and befriends Sanji, a paramedic. It’s a multi-chapter fic filled with humor, angst, pining, action, and good ol’ slow-burn. OTHER FICS FROM THIS AUTHOR: The Android Acquaintance (Explicit, 10k) — dystopian cyberpunk AU with android Sanji and bounty hunter Zoro. This fic partly inspires me to make the Blade Runner 2049 ZoSan art!

The Tribulations of Temptation by SweetyGreeny (Explicit, 18.5k)

Zoro accidentally sees Ace and Sanji doing… the do, and then spends days after that feeling shocked, confused, angry, and disappointed. A delicious story of pining and jealous Zoro. There’s a slight AceSan in the beginning but the endgame is still ZoSan. OTHER FICS FROM THIS AUTHOR: A Siren’s Sinking Song (Teen, 12k) — a canon-divergent AU where Sanji is a siren who one day meets a peculiar swordsman from a wandering ship; this story is beautiful and I love the idea of siren!Sanji, but please note the major character death TW. The Burden of Blondes (Explicit, 11k) — Sanji finds out that Zoro has a thing for blondes, and for some reason he feels uneasy. A fun story with some good smut, and inspired me to make an art loosely based on it.

Thy Fearful Symmetry by Harubo (Explicit, 14.3k)

A modern AU where Sanji is a tourist visiting a tiger reserve during a family vacation and Zoro is a detective investigating a poaching ring. All of Harubo’s fics are godsend but I particularly love this one because the setting reads like a perfect rom-com drama movie about a stressed, overworked chef meeting a handsome detective. There’s also a nice tidbit where the Vinsmoke siblings are trying to get along with each other.

Done Dirt Cheap by Balderdashfromafool (Explicit, 99.7k, multi-chapters & completed)

A Western ZoSan AU, where Zoro is an outlaw and Sanji is a small town chef. This one is fun and lovely, and as someone who doesn’t read a lot of Western-themed stories, I love the way the author describes the Western setting in this fic.

The Fox's Heart by Shadowcatxx (Explicit, 32k, multi-chapters & completed)

Historical/mythological AU where fox spirit Sanji falls in love with human samurai Zoro. A pretty heavy story about forbidden romance but ends with a happy ending. The fic deals with some period-typical issues like homophobia, misogyny, sexism, and transphobia, as well as some depictions of violence and (slight) animal abuse, so please be aware of that.

Mine by burnwaywardbird (Explicit, 4k)

A pure PWP fic of Zoro “punishing” Sanji for flirting with strangers. Super kinky and involves slight dom/sub undertones. Also, while this is mostly pure PWP, this fic is technically part of a series and while can be read as a standalone, I highly recommend to read the other parts as well (especially the ones preceding this fic).

pretty sanji series (Pretty & Surprise) by kickingsanji (12.6k in total)

A series of fics exploring Sanji's femininity and Zoro discovering that he has a thing for Sanji being pretty & wearing pretty things. As a Pretty Sanji truther, I love these fics to bits, not only because it handles Sanji dealing with his insecurities when it comes to his gender expression in a gentle, respectful way, but also because the smut is very good.

All Will be Well by thecrownofclowns (Explicit, 17k)

An incredibly sad but sweet zombie apocalypse AU about Sanji trying to survive the zombie outbreak all by himself, before eventually meeting Zoro. One of my favorite hurt/comfort fics.

—OMEGAVERSE (ALPHA/BETA/OMEGA) FICS

Onigiri by himaaneko (Teen, 2.3k)

Very cute domestic family fic of Zoro, Sanji, and their son. For those who prefers a softer omegaverse with family/love-children fluff on the side, this fic is for you.

Bite Me by Shadowcatxxx (Mature, 15k, two-chapters & completed)

Sanji got attacked while he was alone on the ship, causing him to go into heat. Zoro tries to help, but not without consequences. An exposition on how Zoro and Sanji handle their dynamics, and their feelings towards each other. Please mind the tags with this one.

fever by adietxt (Explicit, 6.4k, multi-chapters & completed)

I'm pretty sure that this is the first omegaverse ZoSan story that I have ever read, and one of the best ones I've ever read for a good reason. It involves Sanji, who suddenly got into his heat, and Zoro, the first one to discover Sanji in heat and learns for the first time he's an omega. I won't spoil anything, but I can say that the ending is great, the porn is delicious, and Zoro being possessive is exquisite.

Steps of Calidity by auspizien (Explicit, 42k, multi-chapters & completed)

I'm gonna preface this by saying that the smut here is ungodly good and very, very hot - and to be perfectly honest, one of the main reasons why I like this fic so much. But the plot is just as good and has an interesting take of how omegaverse dynamics might work in a modern world. Don't forget to mind the tags as well.

Sweet by ElAlmaDelMar (Explicit, 1.8k)

Sanji starts lactating during his pregnancy; Zoro finds it very hot. This one is just straight up kinky. It's a sequel to another story but can be read as a standalone.

#zosan fic rec #deeco's fic rec #zosan #one piece

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valeskafics · 3 months

Text

Outer Banks Masterlist

💕 = personal favorite

✨ = top performing

Oneshots

JJ Maybank

Just A Kiss - JJ x Routledge!Reader ✨ Your and JJ's "friendship" takes an interesting turn.

John B. Routledge

Out Of My Limit - John B x Cameron!Reader 💕 John B has always thought you were too far out of reach. Until now.

Rafe Cameron

Baby's Day Out - Rafe x Trophy Wife!Reader ✨ Rafe loves it when you get pretty for him. He just doesn't love that it involves you being away from him.

Chemicals React - Rafe x Pogue!Reader Rafe gets more than he bargained for when he goes to Barry's grandfather's garage.

Crazy In Love - Dark Ex!Rafe x Reader Rafe doesn't seem to understand the concept of a breakup.

Family Dinner - Rafe x Reader Rafe learns that you don't hate him as much as you claim to.

Fight For You - Ex!Rafe x Routledge!Reader ✨ Your psycho ex boyfriend shows you that he's willing to fight for you.

Good Girls Are Bad Girls - Fratboy!Rafe x Reader ✨ When Rafe meets one of Tri Delta's new sisters, he knows he's found the one.

I Love Star Wars - Frat!Rafe x Nerd!Reader 💕 Rafe makes some startling realizations about himself and his likes when you put him in his place.

Intoxicated - Rafe x Reader If love is supposed to make you crazy, then you and Rafe are definitely doing it right.

Love Bites - Alpha!Rafe x Omega!Reader Rafe is in for a pleasant surprise when you come back to the OBX for the Tanneyhill Halloween rager... Now an omega.

Love It When You Hate Me - Rafe x Reader When your father and Rafe's learn that Singh has threatened the two of you, you're put under house arrest. Ward leaves Rafe in charge of your safety.

My Angel - Rafe x Stripper!Reader 💕 Rafe sees an Angel in person.

Shopping Spree - Rafe x Sugar Baby!Reader (Sequel to My Angel) Rafe spoils you with a shopping spree.

Oedipal Complex - Rafe x Stepmom!Reader ✨ Rafe's mommy issues get a little too real.

Man Of The House - Rafe x Stepmom!Reader (Sequel to Oedipal Complex) 💕 You and Rafe, for lack of a better word, celebrate a death in the family.

More - Frat!Rafe x Sorority!Reader Greek life is amazing, except for one thing. Or rather, one person.

Playing House - Rafe x Reader ✨ Your best friend learns about one of your hobbies - and learns a little something about himself.

Rush Shipping - Stepbrother!Rafe x Reader ✨ Your stepbrother, Rafe, gets exactly what he wants.

Slam Dunk - Basketball Player!Rafe x Cheerleader!Reader Rafe Cameron has been the bane of your existence ever since elementary school. You decide to finally give him his comeuppance after he takes things too far during swim day in PE.

Tease - Rafe x Reader Rafe wants you, his best friend's girl.

Unknown Caller - Ghostface!Rafe x Reader 💕 The power's out on the island, and you're home alone. Or are you?

Multiple

Greedy - JJ x Routledge!Reader x Rafe Liking your brother's best friend is complicated enough. But liking your best friend's brother too? Now, that's just fuckin' greedy.

Headcanons

Baby Daddy!Rafe

Rafe Cameron NSFW Alphabet

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #masterlist #fandom masterlist #outer banks masterlist #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x you

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comicaurora · 5 months

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A work had a controversial installment or arc, and it is widely regarded as bad for the story/franchise at large. Is it better for any future installment to retcon (hard or soft) and revert the status quo to pre-slump or to try to pick up the pieces without throwing the baby out with the bathwater, if one even exists?

Oogh. That's a tough one, considering how many questionable writing choices I'd personally scrub from existence if I had my way, but in general I think it's better to commit to the bit rather than constantly rewriting. Bad writing can be salvaged in hindsight - wasted characters can be strengthened in flashbacks, consequences of glossed-over tragedies can be explored later, dubious dialogue can be rendered profound through callbacks. Look at how Hayden Christensen's been playing Anakin lately and how much people like what he's doing - it doesn't make the prequels not lousy, but it does make them hold together a bit better in the grand scale. Half the fun of twists and reveals is how they reframe past plot points, and if a writer is careful they can add to a story in ways that reach back to the weak parts and strengthen them.

In contrast, the "never mind all that" school of writing makes it very, very obvious to the audience that the writers don't know what they're doing, or at least don't agree with each other, and spotting the hand of the author like that disengages the audience like nothing else.

Tbh I think Star Wars is a really interesting case study for this, since they've been playing both sides sidious-style for ages. Lucas kept digitally remastering the original trilogy and burying the version people saw in theaters, and nobody liked that - hence all the arguments about Han shooting first, because Lucas changed that after the fact to make him more uncomplicatedly heroic. Then the prequels were a mess, but accepting them as What Happened led to shows like Clone Wars (which overall slapped) and Kenobi, which wasn't perfect but did strengthen the characters, including Owen and Beru, who in the original were entirely flat spacefillers designed to die at Refusal Of The Call O'Clock. And bridging the gap between the prequels and OT gave us Rogue One, and then Andor, which are collectively the best star wars has ever been. But the sequel trilogy had AGGRESSIVE retcon-fights between Last Jedi and Rise of Skywalker, the most overt Never Mind All That I've ever seen - and NOBODY liked it.

Overall I think committing to the bit wins out, even if it's rough for the creators to look their past fuckups in the eye and find a way to make them feel intentional.

#asks #writing stuff

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onlyseokmins · 1 year

Text

lusty gallant • c.s.c.

Pairing: choi seungcheol x afab!reader

Genres: smut (minors dni!), roommates!au, fwb!au, lil angst if you squint

Warnings: monster dick cheol <3, swearing, breeding (mentions of pregnancy), size kink, lots of cum and cumming inside, fingering, bantering ofc, choking, lil bit of praise and degradation, hair pulling, man (dick) handling, prolly unhygienic sex tendencies, teeny possession heh, basically reader and cheol are pussy/dick whipped and heathens, sassy, and lil shits (affectionate). pls lmk if i missed smth I'm sleepy

WC: 2.6k

A/N: happy birthday to my beloved soulmate @duhnova <3333 you've been such a lovely presence and have become one of my favorite people from tumblr ❤️ ty for always matching my pace and being so loving and bright always! i really hope you like this heh i tried smth a lil different and we all know I'm secretly feral for cheol and love you lots <3 hope your special day is the best day ever! also happy 1st fic of 2023!! Many more to come I promise 💖 update: 9/6: sequel

When Seungcheol walks through the door with the biggest shit-eating smirk on his stupidly handsome face, you know he's up to something. It makes you want to tear off the beanie snug around his head. Oh. And maybe the rest of his clothes too.

"What is it?" you grouse out as he stands expectantly in front of the television screen. "This better be important because I'm missing the finale."

He knows this but still blocks the screen. Because he's also unbearingly smug, aware of how you can't stop checking him out. Where else are you supposed to divert your eyes when he's in the way though?

"Don't worry, sweetheart," Seungcheol has the audacity to wink at you through his clear-rimmed glasses, "you'll like it lots."

You easily feign disgust. "Why in the world do you think I will?"

"Because," he rocks back on the balls of his feet. Hands burying deep inside the pockets of his gray sweatpants only helps exemplify the outline of his big, long, thick dick inside. "You like me."

"Please. I've kept my end of the bargain so don't go assuming that I haven't."

It's the way his smirk grows wider that stops you from throwing even more daring accusations his way. You also know what kind of man he is. It was very obvious what you signed up for after agreeing to be his roommate.

To ignore all his minor inconvenient and annoying tendencies in exchange for basically living without having to drop a dime for rent or groceries in a nice apartment.

"You like my dick."

Oh. And free cock. The best and biggest kind of cock you might have ever encountered and probably will ever again. No strings attached.

Except everyone knows that those nonexistent strings very much so exist. And are attached. To Seungcheol's cock. Not the man himself. Definitely not. He knows it. Your best friends know it. His own friends might know it too.

Even the couch knows. You grimace. Thinking back to the night before. And the night before that. And last week —

Yeah, the couch definitely knows.

"Yeah occasionally, and?"

You continue to glower straight at Seungcheol's crotch as it seemingly moves closer to you. Every step he takes causes his cock to jostle slightly in his pants. Your jaw aches instinctually and you know you're probably drooling.

Disgusting.

But you are a dedicated whore.

"Occasionally, my ass," Seungcheol mutters in disbelief, more to himself if anything, already half hard.

It's truly unfair how you frown cutely, seated below him so prettily with a rebellious glint in your eyes. Oh, how he loves to fuck that attitude out of you. Even now, the way your lips curl down in faux disgust causes his hips to jut forward.

"You're insatiable," you mock when he shifts even closer until his clothed cock nearly presses against your nose. Suddenly enveloped in his scent, you can't help but go ahead and nuzzle teasingly against his bulge.

"Says the one who begged to be filled up this morning."

His words make your hole clench pitifully, causing you to purse your lips. Soaked and stickied fabric sits between your legs. Not just from being constantly wet around this man. But the same stupid man who had naughtily pulled your panties back up to cover your poor spent and abused pussy after a long, hard sleepy fuck to ensure not a drop was wasted after cumming deep inside.

And you loved it. There was something special, something you treasured about feeling full of his messy release coating in and all over your cunt. It surely beats the warmth of his arms you've never felt when he nonchalantly throws the covers over your shoulders and saunters out with a literal bounce in his step.

You wonder why Seungcheol even bothers paying and staying in a two bedroom apartment when you both end up in the same bed. Maybe the variety of wondering who will crawl under whose blankets makes it all worthwhile.

"What did you want to show me?" you fire back.

"Oh," an eyebrow raises, "you think you deserve to see?"

The feeling of his hand pushing your forehead back is harsh enough that your tongue automatically pokes out with the expectation of a heavy cock laid upon it. Instead, his fingers that stroke your cheek are gentle. Seungcheol is not a kisser. But the featherlight tracing of circles along your neck make up for it.

Your eyes roll back when his thumb rubs along your throat, the rest of his fingers wrapping around with a gentle squeeze.

"Hm?"

"Of course."

"I don't think so." Seungcheol's decision makes your jaw drop but he's not finished yet. "Always acting out and misbehaving like a total brat. Have I still not fucked you hard enough?"

You wince, shifting in your seat lightly, because that statement is not entirely untrue. For sure, you can't recall the last time you weren't at least a little bit sore, struggling to sit comfortably with how brutally he's had his way consensually with you. Still. Nothing will ever be enough to fully rid you of your brattiness.

It's simply a part of your wonderful personality that everyone should appreciate more. And Seugncehol does. He adores everything about you.

Not that you would know. You don't even attempt to understand the pondering look in his dark brown eyes while he casually squeezes and releases his grip around your throat. Unaware that he's thinking about purchasing that cute collar and leash set he saw. Gifting it to you as a one-year anniversary celebration present since you moved in. Wondering what color would suit you best.

"Shirt off, wanna see your pretty body."

It's easy to maintain eye contact and a naughty smile until the shirt has to be pulled off your head. There's no need to wear a bra at home, nipples already perking up before your upper body is bare. Surprisingly Seungcheol doesn't focus on your tits as expected and you meet his eyes again with a questioning stare.

"Show me," he coughs, changing his tune, "show me if you kept your tiny lil hole filled up."

Your cheeks burn. Not out of shame. It's just his stupid effect. Legs already shaking, you stand. He backs up, giving you space and crosses his arms, eyebrows pinching together as he observes every single movement. Your trembling hands tug at your sleep shorts that barely cover anything.

"Turn around."

You obey, of course. Sucking in a harsh breath and bracing yourself as you throw your shorts on the floor, sticking your ass out on purpose. You're sure your panties are an absolute mess to look at — you can feel it — and Seungcheol's loud grunt only confirms the truth that it's a visual to die for.

Even though the best part hasn't even started yet.

Continuing to bend over, you ease them down slowly. Slower than necessary. Every slide down further and further makes the fabric stick to your center, a filthy mixture of arousal and Seungcheol's cum drenching it. A clear string of your essence clings to the material when you finally get them off and his low curses only make your pride swell, pussy lips fluttering and pushing out more of a mess.

"You touched yourself." His disappointed tone is obvious. But the pleasant reminder of flicking lazy circles on your clit over your panties while dipping an occasional finger to play and move around the cum inside makes your body thrum in pleasure. "Seriously? And you thought I was insatiable?"

"What's the matter? I was bored while you ran your silly errands and left me all alone," you purr. "You can just fill me up again. Maybe try and keep your dick deep inside this time. Or let me cockwarm you after, promise I won't waste a single drop."

When you lick your lips and wiggle your hips, Seungcheol scoffs. "Desperate little thing."

He shuffles closer, taking time to lick his palm like a heathen before roughly cupping your pussy. It's not like there's a need to wet his hand. But the heady way you can't help but watch how stupid sexy he looks through your eyelashes only eggs him on. Fingers spread your lower lips so the rest of the thick white globs can fall out and then he's slipping one inside your cunt.

"Not like much can fit in this tiny hole. Surprised you aren't pregnant yet after being stuffed full." Feeling you squeeze and suck his finger in more taunts him to add another. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? That's why you keep asking for it."

There's no time to adjust to the way he curls his fingers just right that you're already dizzy with pleasure. And then he speeds up, shoving them in at a rapid pace that fills the room with loud squelching sounds and whimpering moans.

Your hands brace the back of the couch for dear life, upper body already lurching forward with the way Seungcheol can render your body to his will completely. You're sensitive but it feels so fucking good. Any twinges of discomfort are drowned out by fuzzy pleasure.

Then suddenly, you're left empty. There's not much time to complain about it though before he's rubbing his hand across your ass, smearing it with the glistening sheen coating his fingers. Watching how your cheeks jiggle in time.

You hear a hum, a tickling sensation tracing down your back before he's pulling you up by the back of your neck to lay flush against his chest.

Hips rut against your ass, betraying his desperation and messing up his sweatpants — not that the man cares. He probably revels in it. There's something that makes you weak in the knees, though, with Seungcheol fully clothed while you wait naked and bare for him to make the next move.

One moment his hand slides from the back of your neck to the front in a gentle chokehold, muttering something about "had to make sure you're nice and empty to take another load" and the next moment the world spins as he pushes you down on the couch.

You land on your back, supported by his strong arms so you barely actually fall. Hovering above you, he finally rips off his beanie and you gasp when pink strands flutter out down to tickle your nose.

"You dyed your hair?"

"Yeah, thought it'd look prettiest between your legs." Your pussy flutters at the mention and so does your damn heart. "Besides, you know what the color is named?"

"What?"

"Lusty gallant." Seungcheol beams when you erupt into delighted laughter. "See, isn't it perfect?"

"It really is!"

"Knew you had a crush on me."

His pompous smirk makes your teeth grind and you spit out, "Where did that come from?"

"You think I'm gallant. Brave. Heroic. A gentleman."

"Did you know?" Your finger pokes at his firm chest, sliding down, down, and down. "It also means a big… fucking…" you grab at his cock hard, "flirt. Yeah, it is perfect."

He hisses at the harsh contact. "I'm not a flirt!"

"Hm, sure."

Of course, he relents when you squeeze him even tighter. "Alright… maybe just with you, though. You know you're the only one I fuck. Can't help but rile you up, it's sexy."

You stick your tongue out in pure spite at him only to quickly retract it before he can pull at it like he enjoys.

"You kept it long?"

It seems like such a hassle. You remember him pouting about doing something new with it and figured it'd be easier to cut before coloring it.

"You like pulling at it, so…"

"You like me pulling at it."

"Takes two to tango," he grins and leans back to tug off his pants. His cock slaps against the t-shirt covering up abs. Red. Hard. Angry. Oozing loads of pre-cum. "I could sit here all day instead?"

You go to sit up, ready to ride the smirking man into oblivion and shut him the hell up but he clicks his tongue, caging you in between his arms and keeping you on your back.

"No, sweet stuff. I'm on top today. And you're gonna have to put what you want inside you yourself."

As if it's a challenge. You bite your lip to try and stop your coy smile from lighting up your face. One last, tight clutch around his thick cock for good measure before you rub it along your outer pussy lips.

"No," Seungcheol huffs out, "no teasing."

It's a goddamn power trip for this man to be so close to losing control. You guide the large head inside your hole, knowing if you take it a bit too far any longer, you'll be in trouble if he has to beg.

Despite the slow pace you take to ease his fat girth inside, once he bottoms out with his balls settled against your asscheeks — the brutal thrusts of his hips begin. They snap at an unbelievably fast pace, so much so that your body jerks uncomfortably against the scratchy material of the couch. Head dangerously close to bumping against the arm rest.

"Hold on to me, baby."

Unlike most cases, you don't grab onto Seungcheol's shirt or even cling to his powerful shoulder blades. Instead, you grip onto the long pink strands of hair on the back of his neck.

His head jerks back with a deep groan echoing in his throat before he buries into the crook of your neck. Biting as he also buries his cock deep within in your sweet cunt, hitting that spot only he is able to reach every single time.

"Knew you had a thing for hair pulling."

"If you're able to talk nonsense," he sits back, holding your hips harsh enough to bruise. "must not be fucking you hard enough, again."

He says, "Sorry, baby," dripping in a copious amount of pathetic degradation that you clench so hard around him like a vice. Seungcheol chokes. But when you start to moan non-stop, he smiles like a victor.

"Could fuck this tiny pussy so many times but it never loosens up. Gotta relax for me or I won't be able to fill you up properly."

The bastard isn't helping much, the dirty talk and desperate need to be bred only making your head spin more. Legs wrap around his waist to pull him in even as your pussy threatens to push him out.

Seungcheol falls silent himself, too entranced by the creamy ring forming around his cock where your bodies connect.

Promises of filling you up finally fall from his mouth as he nears his peak. Whispers of "mine" and "yours" he thinks you can't hear in your state but you always do. Reminiscing over them when you're alone at night.

But that's not what matters at this moment as white noise fills your ears, almost blanking out as another incredible orgasm rocks your entire body. Seungcheol's release hits right as yours finishes, pelvis pressing close against yours to make sure you take every single drop as promised.

He hates to even move away. But a couple shallow thrusts are enough to satiate his need to ensure your sweet pussy won't waste even a little bit until you whine from the oversensitivity.

The urge to kiss your forehead is strong as you come down from your high. Instead, he simply stares at you with starry eyes in the vulnerable moment.

One day, Seungcheol convinces himself that he'll be brave enough to utter what traitorously rings through his heart and entire being when he's with you. He's sure it's not the after-nut feelings but maybe it's best to wait until he's not balls-deep inside, too blissed and fucked out that he accidentally blurts it aloud.

Perhaps he will when he gives you the collar and leash, a diamond-encrusted heart with his initials on the front and yours on the back. Tilting his head, he still isn't sure if pink, black, or red suit you best because you're too perfect.

Maybe he'll consider white? Totally not a thought influenced by the gorgeous stains coating your most intimate parts and inner thighs.

Definitely not.

taglist:

@joshibambi @junhui-recs @pandorashbox @rubyscoups @woozluv @nonrevblr @charcharfairy @httpswonwoosglasses @yeosayang @buffhoshi @horanghae8star @noraehey @misssugarlips @onlymingyus @tinkerbell460 @aceofvernons @dejavernon

onlyseokmins: January 2023 ©

#ez.creates #svthub #choi seungcheol smut #seungcheol smut #svt smut #seventeen smut #kpop smut #smut #scoups smut #nova 📚#ez.mootz #1k 🌟#2k 🎇#svt.smut

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fillinforlater · 7 months

Text

Monday of Appreciation: Part 101

Hello everyone, Smite here!

2 YEAR ANNIVERSARY of Monday of Appreciation!

My first MoA post was posted on the 20th of September 2021, two years. Time really flies, huh? I don't want this to be just another MoA 100 post, but I really gotta thank you all, especially because Part 100 received so much love, God, it made me so happy <3 It was a kinda cathartic moment, the series had an epic peak... all thanks to you.

I definitely also want to thank all the writers, without whom this all wouldn't exist. My way of thanking you all is by... featuring a FUCKTON of stories below. Even if you are not featured (first of all, I'm sorry lol), I still appreciate your work and comradery in the bunker. Y'all are amazing <3

LET'S GET TO IT!!!

No. 1: @dnd-writes: Way of Water ft. Eunbi

Ah yes, Waterbomb Eunbi. The event that captured us all. The idea with the backup dancer is straight forward, nice, but the greatest thing about this is the watersports. Waterbomb, watersports... you get it? Just read it.

No.2: @leafostuff: No Names Needed ft. Sheon (Billlie)

Thanks to Leafo for spreading the good word of Sheon and her... goddamn midriff. No more reasons needed, appreciate this girl already, ugh.

No. 3: @iznsfw: The Devil's Telephone ft. Yujin

Everything IZ touches skips the part where it turns to gold. Fuck gold, IZ just creates diamondtic-masterpieces. I was thrilled to learn about this fic and when I read it... IZ did it again! This portrayal of Yujin is everything. What are we to your might!

No. 4: @idyllicidols: Cheat Day ft. Wonyoung

Wonyoung gangbang with her fans? I bet you all are already foaming at your mouth. Go on. Read it. Leave some love for this talented writer after getting your loads off the screen.

No. 5: @rvp32: Whisper of Uncontrollable Desire ft. Chaewon

Let me tell you, rvp is great! They don't hold back, they go all out, they try A/B/O, they like futa (please write futa!) and they have a Gaeul series. This one fucking sent me <3

No. 6: @existslikepristin: Not Summer Yet ft. Jeongyeon

Thx ELP for the nice message on Part 100! Thanks also for giving us these crazy pieces again and again (well, this one isn't too crazy for your standards, but you get me). This felt really intimate, liked it!

No. 7: @dreamcatchers-husband: The City of Love and Secrets ft. Sejeong

You better learn French for this fic. But fr, now I wanna go to Paris and marry a beautiful girl before :floshed: filling her up because she truly is mine now ahhhhh

No. 8: @capslocked: SERENDIPITY ft. Eunbi

Caps, Caps, Caps, Caps, Caps, what am I gonna do with you? Your fics are ALWAYS in my to read list and when I get to them... yeah, takes more than one attempt... more like five. Fuck you, I love you.

No. 9: @ggidolsmuts: Sin, Hormones and the Starlet's Boyfriend ft. Yunjin, Somi

HOLY FUCKING FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK, that was so FUCKING hot, I caaaaan't stop meeeeee, this is so good, I need more of this. Yeah, basically every ddeun fic makes me go like this. What a fucking legend, man.

No. 10: @smuttysabina: A Pervert Bred by Perverts only Breeds more Perverts ft. E:U (Everglow)

As you can see, the title is quite elaborate on what happens in this fic. A bunch of perverts, a lot (and I do mean a LOT) of cum to breed and in the end everyone is happy. You too, you filthy pervert?

No. 11: @writingsomesin-amber: Puppies' New Toy Part 3 ft. LSFM, Xiaoting

FUTA, the best kind of futa. The one with Alphas, with Kazuha (who always has a HUGE cock), with boundless sex that's just horny nonsense. This is what I want to read. Thank you for writing it!

No. 12: @co-reborn: [PPV] BG SEX PERFECT PINK HAIR KOREAN COLLEGE GIRL RIDES AND GETS CREAMPIED - Full Ver ($30).mp4 ft. Jiheon

This is a sequel to probably the best porn focused smut to ever exist. Thank you, c.o, for creating this, for making it a universe and for dropping another Jiheon smut. She hot, you hot <3

No. 13: @pfxhk: Staircase: Prepotent Pleasure ft. Yuqi

Kaaajin <3 finally another Yuqi fic and a very good one at that. I want her hot lips wrapped around me too now.

No. 14: @rosiesmuts: After Dark ft. Rose

Rose little fuck doll. Her pics lately have been mind-fucking or sth like that, I dunno, just sex. Oh, and I know a lot of good things happen late at night.

No. 15: @akkaweo-akkaweo: Treatment ft. Jinsoul

That's the treatment wr allll want from our dear Jinsoul. Her gorgeous visuals have really stunned me since she joined Modhaus. Now paint that pretty face.

No. 16: @mode-lfy: Jinni (SMUT) ft. Jinni (ex-NMIXX)

Sooooo... when does Jinni unzip my pants, first thing in the morning finally come back?

Edit: SHE ACTUALLY IS?!?! LFG!

No. 17: @worldsover: link in bio top 0.1% creator ft. Jiheon

This one is the follow-up to c.o's [PVV], so we got a whole-ass universe with pornstar!Jiheon now. What a blessing, and it leaves us with no doubt that Jihron would reach that 0.1% if she'd show her cute face and bubble butt on cam... when tho???

No. 18: @allthekingssmut: She's Rough And Coarse And Gets Everywhere ft. Heejin

Star Wars is already a win in my book, pair it with hotness everywhere (the sun, a mechanic, her face) and it only gets better and better. The release to all the fucking tension between those two is EPIC. Great fic!

No. 19: @writerpeach: Overindulgent ft. Wonyoung

To say I have over-indluged in this fic would be a massive understatement. When Peach let's loose and pours out tens of thousands of words of unpure smut, we know we got ourselves a massive hit, no matter the idol. To make it even better, Wonyoung.

No. 20: @okaylikesmomo: Kampfyre Part 1 - Vocals ft. Winter

Just one word: vocal training. Wait, that is two words! So Imma a need okay to write a second part to this, because Winter has not been trained enough (imo).

No. 21: @pupyuj: Magic Words ft. Wonyoung (fem!reader)

More love to female reader fics! Especially thise one, with this sweet and spicy Wony that makes girls' legs weak and mine too xD Thank you for this great story and hot smut!

No. 22: @usedpidemo: Parasailing ft. Yuri, Minju

This story feels so nostalgic, so oddly familiar. Like I was there throughout it all and feel entitled to the release at the end. This fic has me gliding, high on their two perfect bodies.

No. 23: @summersault31: Concerto Pt. 1 ft. IU

Blowjobs under the table while tempting another woman into your sinful lifestyle... this combines a clichee with a hook that has you begging: Summer, where is Part 2?

No. 24: @midnightdancingsol: I swear, the Bear Poked Me! ft. futa!Minji x Danielle

Now for the futa appreciation. I think Sol is perfect for this, especially because the mere thought of Minji fucking Dani with her... HUGE COCK... so big and... were was I? Oh yeah, Hanni is also in this.

No. 25: @maemisnippets: You're Mine, Cheeks ft. Chaehyun (fluff)

In between 29 smuts, there is this one short fluff by our dear Maems. Well deserved, I must say. Keep it up, qt, always fun bits to read.

No. 26: @mintwithchoco: [CYMX-461] ft. Choerry, Jinsoul

Monopoly can be so much fun, if you are willing to strike some questionable deals to further your chances of winning and everyone's chances to have a good time. Bathtub sex?

No. 27: @nichuuu: Where our blue is ft. Rei

A beautiful story, it truly made me fall in love with Rei, her strive and determination, her failure, her rise---and the insane, drawn-out fucking at the end. Where our blue is has it all and I have to congratulate @nichuuu: In between all these great writers, this story really stuck out to me!

No. 28: @svndaysaweek: Niche ft. Hanni

Cute little Hanni in need of her step-brother, because she is so deeply in love with him... this was so adorable and sweet at the start and then went into an excessive smut part that fried my brain.

No. 29: @sinswithpleasure: You Can Watch, But You Can't Touch [At Least, Not Yet] ft. Mina, Sana, Momo

I. Would. Not. Last. There is no shame in me saying this, but I just couldn't, with these three hotties right in front of me. Blast it all over their bodies, hng.

No. 30: @xiakato: Ella Baila Sola ft. Xiaoting

Hm, maybe Xiaoting should dance alone, I'm not really good at it though my Just Dance scores would beg to differ.

Hey, if you read all of that, you're fucking awesome. I appreciate you, and hope, you have a great week ahead. Until the next MoA, goodbye!

#mondayofappreciation #kpop smut #female idol smut #girl group smut #male reader insert

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vodika-vibes · 3 months

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Just One Date

Summary: You're a Military Doctor attached to the 212, and you've come to consider Commander Cody as a friend. Turns out, that he sees you a little bit more.

Pairing: Commander Cody x F!Reader

Word Count: 1333

Warnings: Cody makes suggestive jokes, and gets whacked with pillows and has a hand slapped over his mouth for it.

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: HAPPY 2224 Day! I came up with this idea at 5:30 this morning when I originally woke up and when I remembered what today was. There might, possibly, be a sequel where the date actually happens. It depends on people's reactions to this one.

You’ve been a civilian employee to the GAR since you were old enough to enlist. The military wasn’t exactly your “dream” career, but it got you away from your incredibly toxic family, and it paid you to go to medical school.

And, really, at the time the odds of there actually being a war was slim to non-existent.

Jokes on you, the war started 6 months after you graduated and you found yourself bouncing from military base to military base, before finally getting assigned to The Negotiator, under General Obi-Wan Kenobi and Commander Cody.

The Commander is everything you’ve ever wanted in a Senior Officer, respectful and professional when the situation calls for it, but more than happy to share jokes with you when you’re not working.

The General, however, is a walking migraine.

At this point, you’re beginning to think that your job would be easier if you were assigned to literally any other battalion.

“General Kenobi,” You say as you pinch the bridge of your nose, “Did you, perhaps, skip your basic first aid lessons as a child?”

Helix, working on Commander Cody at the bed behind you, doesn’t bother to muffle his laughter, but you tune him out with the ease of long practice, instead pinning your General with an accusing glare.

“Well,” General Kenobi rubs his chin thoughtfully, “I was a very busy padawan-”

“So, perhaps, you skipped the basic first aid classes that say when you get stabbed, do not remove the stabbing implement?” You interrupt.

“Well, I wouldn’t say that I skipped the lessons-” He demures.

“And your reasoning for ignoring Commander Cody’s very reasonable order to not remove the knife from your thigh?” You ask.

“...uh…I was in shock?”

You smile. It’s a nice smile, and you’re pleased to see General Kenobi slump on the hospital bed, “Well, since you ignored your Commander’s very reasonable, and correct, order. You’re going to spend the next three days in a bacta tank.”

“I don’t think you’re allowed to use bacta tanks as a punishment.” General Kenobi says thoughtfully.

“I don’t think you’re in any position to argue with me.” You counter with a roll of your eyes. “Relax, General. It’s not a punishment. You’re more injured than you look. And maybe you can get some sleep if I drug you enough.”

General Kenobi sputters, “Commander! Are you hearing this?”

“Hm? What? I’m not listening.” Cody says with a sly smirk.

“Well, there you have it. The Commander’s on my side.” You say brightly, as you spin to grab a syringe of the sedative that was especially formulated for Jedi. “Good night, General.”

“This is mutiny,” General Kenobi says with a frown.

“Yes, yes. I know.” You inject the liquid into his IV, “We’ll see you in a couple of days.” The older man slowly drifts off to sleep, and you pass the General over to the men who can get him into a bacta tank easier than you.

And then you spin on your heel and move over to Commander Cody, who’s laying on his hospital bed very peacefully, a small grin playing on his lips. “What’s wrong with you?” You ask, as you grab his file and scan it.

“Well, I was blown up, mesh’la.” Commander Cody says blandly.

“Well, that was silly of you. Why would you do something like that?”

“I woke up this morning and thought, ‘how can I make my medics pull their hair out today?’ and decided that getting blown up was the best way to go about it.”

You smother your laugh and glance at him, “One of these days Helix is actually going to kill you.”

“But you’ll protect me won’t you?”

“Of course.” You wink at him, “Everyone knows I’m the scary one.” You scan his record for a moment, and then favor him with a smile, “Aside from some bumps and bruises, you look totally fine.”

He grins at you, “So you like how I look, do you?”

You sigh, “Commander, that joke got old within a week of working with any of you.”

Cody just laughs and sits up, “Come on, Doc. I won’t tell. We both know that I’m the most handsome.”

“One of these days,” You counter as you set your hands on your hips, “I’m going to buy a box of chocolates and address it to ‘the most handsome man in the 212’ just to see who wins.”

“Aww, mesh’la, you don’t have to buy me chocolates.”

“Ooh, someone’s cocky.”

“You have no idea.” He flashes a boyish grin, “I could show you, if you like.”

You squint at him, “What?”

“Just how cocky I am.” Cody clarifies with a sly grin.

Your jaw drops and your face burns, before you grab the thin pillow and smack him with it, “Behave!”

Cody laughs, as he fends off the pillow, “What? I just repeated what you said. It’s not my fault that your brain lives in the gutter.”

“Rude. Rude!” You huff, “I changed my mind, I’m not going to protect you from Helix. RIP Commander Cody. I knew you well.”

“C’mon mesh’la,” He teases, “Having a dirty mind is a boon. Well, I think. Especially if it’s dirty about me.” Cody reaches out and lightly grips your hips, tugging you closer.

You scowl at him, though it’s really more of a pout, “You know, there are almost 2 million men identical to you-”

“Yeah, yeah. But you don’t have dirty thoughts about them.” Cody replies confidently.

“You’re so sure of that?”

“Yup.”

You shake your head, “Come on, Commander. You’re hardly a mind-reader.”

“I don’t have to be. I see how you look at me.” He says with a smirk.

“And how do I look at you?” You ask sarcastically.

Cody’s smirk grows into an amused grin, “Like you wanna drag me into a supply closet and ri-” You slam your hands over his mouth.

“Okay! Thank you!” You yelp, your face burning. “Why do people think you’re the mature one?” You bemoan.

“Because I play the part well,” He says smugly, his voice muffled by your hand.

“Can I remove my hand or are you still going to try and embarrass me?” You ask.

“I like it when you get all embarrassed, it’s cute.” Cody replies before he pulls your hands away from his mouth, and then presses them to the bed next to him without releasing them.

“Hm, you seem to have forgotten to release my hands.” You say dryly.

“I didn’t forget. I did it on purpose.” He says, his dark eyes scanning your face.

“And why would you do that?”

“Go on a date with me.” Cody says.

You blink at him, startled. “I beg your pardon?”

“One date,” He clarifies, “That’s all I’m asking for.”

“Commander-”

“Cody.” He interrupts, his gaze serious, “One night. Let me show you how good we could be together.”

You avert your gaze for a second, and you know that he can feel your heart racing with how he’s holding your hands still. “Commander, we’re not going to be returning to Coruscant for several months-”

“Cody, and I don’t care. I can woo you even on the Negotiator. Give me a chance.”

“And if we don’t go well together at the end of the night? What then?”

“We’re going to be great,” Cody counters, “But, if,” He rolls his eyes, “For some reason, we don’t work out, then nothing will change.”

“Com-”

He tugs your wrists so that you topple against him, “Cody. My name isn’t that hard, is it?”

“...Cody.” You finally say with a sigh, though there’s a small smile playing on your lips, “I suppose, since you’re so eager, I can agree to a single night.”

“There's going to be more than one.” Cody says confidently.

You hum thoughtfully, “Prove it.”

He grins at you boyishly, “I can do that. I already have the whole thing planned.”

“...How?” You ask, exasperated.

“I’m very good at what I do.” He replies smugly.

#star wars #tcw #commander cody x reader #cody x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #f!reader fic #cody day 2224

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potionpeddlerpatchy · 10 months

Text

word count: ~10.4K

paring: God!Sero x f!Nymph!Reader

warning(s): dubcon, drugging, use of aphrodisiacs, loss of innocence, first time, marking, oral (f!recieveing), creampie, sero being manipulative in general.

authors note: hello again! Figured i would repost this lovely Sero piece once again as I have its sequel coming out very shortly, and its best to have everything in one place. This was part of a Mythology collab, and I loosely based it on the Apollo and Daphne myth; though I twisted it a little. So please, enjoy Sero using sweet words to convince you into his conniving plan~ 🔮

Nymphs, nature deities that are not fully gods yet not mortal as well. The only true creature that lives for themselves and yet the only one invariably bound to the land of mortals. And what more can a nymph do than to plenish their lands, give lone travelers a peek of god-like beauty, and to tempt the gods?

A long time ago, Gods ruled the world.

Before mortals became too abundant, their faith lost, and took over everything; the gods controlled all that was seen, heard, and felt. They gifted the mortals things like the wheat in their fields, the water in their cups, the hearth and warmth in their homes, and even the beautiful visions they would see when they slept.

The gods were kind enough to bless them with the sun, the moon, the tide, the rain that filled the clouds, the mountains that provided shelter from the harsh winds, the peacefulness of being guided to safety in death, and even love; in the many beautiful shapes and forms they came in.

And beings.

Ones that were not fully mortal, yet not fully gods. Creatures created by the gods to simply be enjoyed by the mortals; those that were lucky enough to find them. Maidens of rare beauty, and melodic laughter, that could be found in all parts of the mortal realm.

Some say they were a gift from Aphrodite herself, as a way to give her thanks to those that were ever devoted to her. Some say they were a gift from Apollo, another form of his muses to gift them with beautiful singing and subjects to paint. And some say it was Zeus, having to give away all of his lovely daughters to the mortals to appease his queen.

Either way, they existed too.

Nymphs, they were called. Nature deities that were beyond that of mortals, but not powerful enough to be labeled gods, or even demi-gods. They lived hidden away from all. Not wanting to be seen or disturbed by many, if any at all. But, if a lone traveler was lucky enough, they may spot a few bathing by waterfalls, or dancing amongst the forest's trees, or soaking the sun rays in a beautiful meadow.

They were everywhere. The oceans, the rivers, the mountains, the forests, the meadows, anywhere the gods had touched and blessed there were to be nymphs to plenish and restore. To keep alive what the gods had left behind; to love what had been forgotten.

You were what the mortals called an Anthousai, a flower nymph. The luckiest of all spirits that were contained to forests and fields; even your fellow wood and plant nymphs were jealous of what you were. A beautiful flower to be admired.

Though the tree stands tall, and grass gives plenty, they could not compare to the beauty that came from anthousai, not even if they were to give up their lives and transform; for a tree could not compare to the beauty of an everlasting flower.

Though you never knew what flower you truly were, whether it be a rose, bluebells, or peonies, your beauty was beyond compare. Even your sisters, fellow flower nymphs like you, over time grew to be spiteful at just how radiant you had become; overshining even them, and they were to be just as beautiful.

They were resentful of you, the one that was most blessed by the gods.

You never were to be invariably bound to one place, for no place wanted to keep you. You constantly were searching, trying to find a home to be secure within, to find sisters that loved you and would dance and sing and care for you as you cared for all that crossed your path. But over time it was made clear that those of forest and field would not want to keep you and call you their own.

So you fled towards the mountains, where the springs and rock would be; hoping they would provide you with what you needed to live.

And, as luck and fortune would bless you once more, you came upon a fellow nymph that was like you. An Oceanid, one that was to be associated with water, as the personification of the springs that dwelled within the land you stumbled upon. And much like you, she was blessed more than anyone else and cast out for it.

She took you to where she lived. A place hidden by rock and trees and held within it a large pond of water that was so blue and clear one could get mesmerized by the simplest ripples on its surface. Not far from it was a tiny home, cozy and sweet that made your heart fill with warmth when you stepped inside it for the first time. And right below it, a passageway that led to a path, that if a traveler was lucky enough to stumble across, could cut his journey through the mountains in half.

Not ideal, truly, for a nymph that wishes to hide away from any mortal; and though this path and place were hard to reach, it had a higher probability to have a mortal stumble upon it, and you, than where any other nymph resided.

But, where one saw misfortune, you both saw the opposite.

If travelers wished to use your sacred path, to hopefully gaze upon beauty that they will never see again in their life, to trespass and invade your home, then they must leave a gift upon your altar. Failure to do so meant traveling back to where they once came, and conquering the mountain with even fewer supplies. So it only made sense to give up a small token, or bits of coin and gold to you both to be able to pass through.

And oh how blessed with gifts you were. Piles of gold and silver coins filled tiny satchels that hung upon your walls; and made beautiful jingling sounds whenever the wind would shift them. Jewels that would glisten in the sun whenever you held them up to gaze at their beautiful colours. And trinkets, both old and new, that decorated any part of your dwelling with their unique beauty; with some you would wear or attach to your clothing with how much you adored their charm.

It was not long that the news of this passageway, and the creatures that were being treated better than the gods, reached the heavenly realm.

~~~

“It’s becoming ridiculous!” Ashido cried out, bringing a golden fan up to cool her heated face “They’re getting more offerings than me now! Me!”

Ashido threw herself down on a nearby chaise lounge, the pillows making a soft landing on her otherwise dramatic display, as she brought an arm up to cover her eyes. The fellow gods around her just rolled their eyes, more than used to the over-dramatics their friend and fellow deity was currently putting on display. They knew that, in due time, this would all blow over and she would be acting as if nothing ever happened.

“So, it’s all well and fine if we lose out on offerings. But the moment the Goddess of Love and Beauty starts to lose just a few, then it’s an issue?”

Denki smirked from his spot, chin in palm, as he retorted back to the fellow god that was throwing a fit, more than amused by it all - unlike his fellow brethren. His smile only became wider when he saw Ashido’s eyebrows furrow and a scowl form on her face.

“Oh don’t make such a face!” He laughed, throwing his head back so far he too was lying comfortably on his chaise “It’s very unbecoming of you!”

“Will you two knock it off?” Katsuki grumbled, hands working a stone over the blade of his sword with practiced ease “Who cares about what offerings two stupid nymphs get?”

“I do!” Ashido sat back up again, her glare now pointed towards the man sitting on the floor “They lesser beings! Lesser creatures than I am! And yet their beauty is being more devoted than mine! It’s not right!”

And while those words only received an eye roll from the War God, another god’s interest was now piqued. Sure he knew of the situation, it was all anyone could talk about up in the heavens, but to now know that these creatures were deemed more lovely and fair than his friend? Well, it was certainly interesting news, to say the least.

“Fascinating…”

“Oh come now Hanta!” Ashido cried once more, knocking the arrow he was absentmindedly twirling in his hands “Really? As a fellow love god, I figured you would take my plight more seriously!”

“It is your plight, not mine” He hummed in response, before scoffing in mirth “Come on, how can you not find this interesting? When in our lives has any nymph really claimed the hearts of so many mortals? To the point where they are mistaking them for Gods?”

“Well….”

“Never! We have only ever seen them as nuisances at best, or in Denki’s case a quick romp to let off some steam. Nothing more than a means to an end. Now they are controlling mortals, and even us to a degree! Surely you should find that quite amazing of creatures you half-heartedly help make, turning into something almost as beautiful and powerful as you.”

Ashido rolled her eyes at the last statement, not liking having her greatness compared to that of two lowly nymphs; but Hanta did have a point. Though she would never admit it, her scoff and abrupt standing proof she no longer wished to be in the same room as him for simply being right.

“If you find them so fascinating, then why don’t you meet them?”

Hanta, or any of her fellow friends, did not have a chance to reply before she stormed out of the room. It caused Katsuki to scoff once more before resuming his task, this time with more vigor. And for Hanta to roll his eyes, fingers deftly twirling his silver arrow once again as his mind began to wander.

Just how beautiful was the pair of you?

Before he could ponder the question any further, he stood abruptly too. Not wanting to waste another moment wondering about those thoughts, instead, he wanted to see for himself. He was a god after all, so why shouldn’t he know more about these beings that were creating quite a stir in his realm?

“Maybe I will…” He mumbled to himself, feet starting to take him to where he wanted to go before his mind could fully comprehend where.

“Like hell you are!” Denki stood in his way, effectively blocking the taller god from taking another step “Not without me!”

This caused Hanta to smirk down at him “Nymphs are cautious creatures, and due to their nature one must be careful how they interact with them. And if I actually want to interact with them at some point, my best bet isn’t to bring the one god known for sleeping with, and breaking the hearts of, almost everyone single one.”

“W-well! So what?” Denki’s skin became flushed as blood rushed to his face in embarrassment over his friend's truth, “You’re a god too, and it's clear they don’t like any! So what makes you think you can succeed with them, huh?”

“Because, my simple friend,” Hanta smiled, side-stepping the flustered god to continue on his way “I am the God of Flattery and Sweet Words, hard to lose the trust of such lovely creatures with that.”

~~~

Though it took a lot of effort, and even more flattery, to get just where in the mountains (and which mountain) you and your friend were calling home from Ashido, he still managed to get it. And with gleeful steps, strong winds to help his wings glide him swiftly through the air, and the gracefulness of his very being, he managed to find you both with no issue at all.

He perched himself upon a nearby tree, high enough that one would not notice he was there if they were to walk by, and just observed the pair of you.

Your friend (or sister, as you kept calling her), he would admit, was beautiful. She was the one that caught his eye first. The way her skin seemed to always glow under the sun's rays as she gracefully danced upon the meadow you were residing in was hard to ignore. He chuckled to himself at the thought of some mortal stumbling across her, just knowing they would mistake her for his dear friend Ochako mid-hunt with how ethereal she looked.

But then his eyes finally glanced over to you, unable to help himself from sparing you a glance when your sister had called out to you, and it was then he felt his heart stop in his chest and for the world around him to stop moving.

It was your smile, or so he thinks when he thought back at that moment again and again, that caused such a powerful reaction within him. How radiant it was, how it lit up the world around you brighter than a thousand suns. How warm it made him feel when it unknowingly was sent in his direction. And how it made him finally look at your beautiful face.

After he saw that smile he wondered why your sister had ever caught his attention in the first place. The way the flowers around you sat upon your head and fell into your hair, the way your eyes looked so bright as they gazed up at your companion, and how soft and small your hands look when they reached out to her, to allow her to pull you up into a dance, were all so captivating.

He may have been fascinated before as to why mortals were throwing themselves into danger just for a glimpse of you, but now he understood fully. You were the most breathtaking creature he had ever witnessed in his long immortal life, and he could not lie when he thought to himself that day that your beauty could rival that of Ashido’s. In fact, he could not lie and say that he wouldn’t choose you over his old friend if he had to judge who the most beautiful in all the realms was.

He wanted you.

He wanted you more than he had ever wanted anything else in his life, and he wanted for very little. But he knew that you would deny him from plucking you from where you called home; it was in your nature. And in a perfect world, he can simply walk up to you and say a few pretty words and you would be his.

But thanks to his friend Denki, you would not trust him in the slightest; nor his intentions, for you could sense that they would not be pure. For how could they, as nymphs really only existed to be temptresses to the gods and then have their hearts broken once they gave their flowers to them. And you knew you were a rare flower, one that would not choose so willingly to be plucked up and away from your life, home, and companion.

No. If Hanta wished to have you, all of you all to himself, he would have to be patient. And well, it was a virtue and he knew he was virtuous enough to conquer the lust that raged within him when he looked at you to see himself succeeding. To see you run into his arms and ask him to take you away and be his forever.

And what better way can he think to court you, to earn your favour and trust, than to leave you gifts at your altar?

Not just any gifts though. No, he would not waste your time with the meaningless trinkets and coins that those travelers gifted you, he would give you things only the gods could. To give you all the spoils known to them as a way of proving his devotion to you; for why else would a god willingly give up all his riches if not for love?

~~~

It was strange to you at first, the small gifts that were left at your door. Usually when there was a gift there was a traveler nearby, waiting for you or your sister to allow them to pass. But these gifts would just appear as if they came into existence by the wind.

And what gifts they were!

Robes made with the brightest and finest silks, always adorned with beautiful gold and silver embellishments, with a few jewels within the intricate carvings. Rings that were so heavy your hands always felt like lead when you wore them. Bracelets that could wrap and entangle all the way up your arms and legs, adorning your whole limb in its beauty. And necklaces that always perfectly sat upon your chest, with their large gemstones settling flawlessly in between your bosom.

You always shared these splendid and grand gifts with your sister, not wanting to be cruel and hoard all the splendor to yourself. But over time you started to grow nervous about where these gifts were coming from, about who was sending them to you. For who could afford to give you these things if not a god? And if it truly was a god, how did you catch his eye? And why would he only want to give you these things, never your sister?

Soon there were gifts being given to you every day. As every morning they would sit at your doorstep, waiting for you to collect them. There was little space for you to place them in your home over time, with many of the gifts being left unopened; them sitting upon shelves in the bindings they came to you in.

And one day, upon a pile of other treasures that awaited you that morning, a golden apple sat glistening in the sunrise. That was the day all your doubts and nerves got the better of you as you shut the door and hid yourself away.

That was the day you knew for certain a god was trying to court you, for no other being other than god could get ahold of golden apples. The heavenly fruit that they all ate upon as if it was nothing more than a common fruit; but to you and all other mortals it was more than that. It was the only thing that could grant any being immortal life.

Therefore the reason it was given to you, sat upon piles of other treasures, was a sign that a god had wanted to take you away; to call you their own. And the thought terrified you. For where would you end up? What would they want from you? And would they cast you aside as if you were nothing, like all nymphs were treated by them? And what would happen to your sister? Would you never see her again?

That was the thought that terrified you the most.

Heartache, terror, abuse, you could bear if it meant she was by your side. You had waited long enough to finally get the companionship you had always craved; the one you searched for in many lands, and you did not want to give it up any time soon.

So the gifts, and that apple, stayed outside for days as you stayed hidden behind your walls in hopes that the sender would take that as a sign of your rejection. A sign you did not want, or need, the lavish gifts anymore and for him to move onto a more wanting and deserving creature.

When Hanta saw that his gifts were left untouched, the apple still perched precariously upon the other lavish items he had wanted you to wear and adore, it made his entire being slouch in despair.

How could you not like them? Why would you not take them?

He knew they were no different from all the other gifts he had given you, and he knew you loved those. He watched as you glided through the forests, and that wonderful meadow where he first saw you, twirling in those gowns. Giggling with your sister when you were jangling those bracelets as you danced, holding those rings up to the light. Unable to let his eyes wander whenever his necklaces would sit between your breasts.

And though he was never a fan of whenever you shared those gifts with your sister, he only ever wanted you to wear what he gave, he knew that you did so out of excitement. Excitement that you would show with every new gown and jewelry you placed on your body you would always pair it with a new crown made of the very flowers you tended to.

He watched you, from his favorite spot in the trees, as you gleefully would make them. Hands always hurried as you tried to finish them as quickly as possible as if you could not bear to wait another moment without it upon your head. And though they always looked so beautiful upon your brow, he always promised he would give you a real one someday.

One made of gold, if you were to say yes to him; to be his. But there it sat, collecting dust upon your altar. A rejection of him and all other splendors he wishes to give you.

It made him furious, just as it did fill his being with sorrow. Not furious at you, no, he could never hate you. Furious that he overturned his hand and made you skittish. Made you untrusting of him and his intentions. Made it seem like you did not want him.

But of course, you did. Of course, you wanted him.

He just had to make sure you understood why you wanted him. How no one else could compare to him. How no one else would treat you with such warmth and comfort and give you any spoil your little heart could ever desire for the rest of your life.

And well, it seemed only fitting that you should finally meet him as he told you all these things.

~~~

It was in your springs where he found you that night. Though it was not Hanta’s intention to spy on you while you both bathed in the cool waters, he couldn’t help it. How could one resist that temptation? To hear the sweet laughter mixed with the splashing of water to lure one in, and then to see the sight of two beautiful maidens while they bathed. It was simply not fair.

If he were a lesser man he would have jumped out to try and take one of you then.

But he was not and found great pleasure simply watching the pair of you. How the moon illuminated your skin to make it that much more supple; that much more tempting for him to touch. How he could not stop his eyes from roaming your figure as you brought oils to your skin, to lavish and clean it before they disappeared into the water around you.

Hanta was almost envious of the suds, the small bubbles, that had a chance to touch your perfect body and soft skin. Of the water that elicited such sweet squeals of excitement when it was splashed onto you, to the soft sighs it cast from your lips when you would lounge back into it. And of your sister, the only one who was able to witness all of these things about you; and so selfishly kept it all to herself.

Though it was only when a twig snapped under his foot, an oversight he normally wouldn’t let happen, that he realized his mistake. Realized that his first meeting with you would be tarnished over impure thoughts and actions, which would only lead to you not trusting him even more.

For what nymph could trust a god they caught spying on them while they bathed?

But he had to try. And he leaped from his spot once he saw the pair of you scurrying for your clothing and out of the spring. He cared not for your sister, and allowed her to run towards your home, though he followed you closely; making it impossible for you to return to the place you felt the safest.

He managed to corner you once again, back to where it all started. The waterfall from the springs could be heard faintly behind you as you watched him approach the tree you had hidden behind. Your breathing labored as you held your clothing up to your body as best you could to conserve what was left of your modesty.

“I won’t hurt you.” Hanta called out to you, his voice soft to not further spook you “And I won’t cause you any harm, I promise. I just think you are the most beautiful maiden I have ever seen; so won’t you please come out and talk to me? For just but a moment?”

You glare at him, eyes holding suspicion over his claims. Though you finally relented when you watched as he stepped closer and closer to you, in your ever-vulnerable state.

“S-stop! Please stay where you are…” You called out, voice losing strength as you continue to cower away from him “I will speak with you, only if you promise to turn your head away and allow me to get dressed.”

Hanta gave a small smile, hands clasping behind his back as he turned his body away from you; making sure to keep his head and gaze straight ahead of him, to not make you suspicious that he was trying to catch another glimpse.

“Did you not like them?”

His question startled you, a small gasp slipping out as you stumbled with your garment; almost tripping over your own feet. You took a deep breath to regain some level of composure as you shakily slipped your legs through the gathering.

“I am not sure what you mean…” You pulled the fabric upwards, placing the final strap over your one shoulder; your eyes never straying from the back of his head.

“The gifts.” He replied, “I have given you plenty, but it seems that lately, you have not accepted any. I am wondering if you did not like them.”

“Oh, it was you…” You made your way from out behind the tree, the movements being heard by the man before you as he finally turned back around to face you.

He was taller than you by a far margin, one that kept growing as he made his way towards you; his steps were careful to show he was not to harm you. When he finally reached you, he crouched down as close to your level as he could and clasped your hands in his, gently squeezing them in his hold.

“I am.” His voice was but a whisper as he pulled you closer, trying in vain to get you to look up at him, wanting nothing more than to gaze into your beautiful eyes.

“Then you should know why I did not accept them” You voice soft but strong, as you turned your head away from him “You are a god, the gifts you have given proof of that. And from all the tales I have heard and seen, all a god does is take the chastity of nymphs before casting them aside.”

“How could I ever do that to you? I would never do that to you. In my eyes, you are far too lovely and beautiful to ever just be cast aside.”

He heard you scoff, head moving away from his deft fingers as they tried to tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear, clearly not believing him. His actions just displayed proof of why you were untrusting, and so he would have to use his sweet words in a different manner.

“In all truth, had I not come down this very night to see you, I am sure my brethren would try and take you away.”

You stiffened in his hold, fear gripping your being at his words. Frozen in place you finally allowed him to move your head up to look at him, into his dark eyes that told you what he said was true.

“W-what…?” Your voice was shaky, as was your body when you continued to scan his face for any semblance of trickery; only to still find none.

“My fellow gods, the ones I call friends from time to time, they heard the stories of nymphs in the mountains that had caught all sorts of mortals' attention.” Hanta began, “They were curious, and wanted to see for themselves just how beautiful you were. But my friends are more beast than gentleman; I fear of what might have become of you had I not scared them off.”

You collapsed into him, the shock of his words controlling your body more than your mind as you clung to his tunic. Though you could not see it, Hanta had an impish smile on his face as he comforted you; his hands running soothing patterns up your arms.

“But you needn't worry!” He pulled back to look at your face once more, squeezing your arms in comfort “I will protect you from them. All I ask is that you accept me, take my gifts, and allow me your company.”

“How… how will I know?” You looked back up at him, hands lowering from his chest “How will I know you are being truthful with me?”

“I am a God of Love, my dear,” Hanta fluttered the wings on his back to make light of that truth. “And as one, I never appreciated or cared for those that would take advantage of it; to abuse it and harm others with their lust. I can tell my friend's intentions are not pure, as I can with any being, and I cannot bear it if they were to harm a precious flower like you.”

Hanta watched you carefully. Watched how your eyes glanced at his wings, back to his face, and turned downcast once again as you took in his words. He has hoped the sweet words he was known for would work on you, to break down your walls to allow him in. He had to hide the victorious smile from gracing his features when you gazed up at him and accepted his protection and his terms.

“Tell me your name” You mumbled, taking a step away from him. “If I have to agree to all of this, then please allow me to know the name of my protector.”

“Hanta, you may call me Hanta.”

Your head shot back up to look at him, eyes once again glaring at him as you took another step away from him “There is no god named Hanta.”

“None named for the mortals.” Hanta smiled, closing the gap between you once more “None of us gods are ever named what mortals claim we are, even in their stories. Our true names are only spoken and used amongst each other, in the heavens. Only you, in this mortal realm, shall have the knowledge and privilege to call me it.”

“Hanta.” You whispered out, nodding your head in agreement with his words.

“Good, now be off.”

It took all of his strength to step away from you; not wanting to be away from your warmth now that he finally had it. But he did. Only if it were to prove to you he was on your side, that he wanted to protect you.

He watched with bated breath as you scurried away, back to your home. Only allowing himself a breath, and a mirthful smirk to appear, once he knew you were too far away to see it. His wings stretched out behind him as he took flight back home.

His meeting with you went far better than he ever planned it. And now he had plenty to dream of that night.

~~~

It was rare for the God of War to come to the mortal realm.

Especially seeing as there was no war to be had. No fight to participate in, no blood for him to shed, and no victory to be won for him once all the dust and debris settled. And it was even more rare that the God of Strength would follow alongside him into this plane when there was no battle to be had.

But there were never ones to turn down a mission.

Their pride and honor to strong within them to let a challenge go to the wayside simply because they thought it was stupid, pitiful, or a waste of their time. And though Katsuki thought what he was doing here, what he was about to do, fit into all three categories he simply could not tell his friend no.

Hanta never asked for much, especially from him. And Katsuki had to admit that his fellow friends served him very well in battles of past; always fighting on his side to help him claim his victories. So, he could swallow his pride for a moment or two so he can fulfill a small favour in return to the larger ones he was in debt to.

It wasn’t like he had much of a choice either.

“Why are we doing this again?” Ejirou asked, scooting himself closer to his friend while still staying crouched behind some foliage.

“Because Hanta asked us to.” Katsuki mumbled, huffing out his answer as it wasn’t the first time he was asked.

“But it doesn’t seem right, doing any of this. And you normally don’t waste your time on such trivial things, especially when it comes to beings like nymphs, so why are you here? And why did you drag me into this?”

“Because!” Katsuki hissed, baring his teeth in warning “Hanta asked for us to do this! And the last time I refused that bastard made it impossible for me to be intimate with anyone for over 200 years!”

Katsuki huffed, watching his friend eye him warily before shifting slightly away, the action making him slump his shoulders in slight defeat.

“Listen. I don’t want to do this either. If I had it my way, we would all just leave these two idiots alone for the rest of their lives. But Hanta seems to like one of them, and we all know there is nothing we can do to stop him.”

“You’re right….”

Ejirou mumbles that last part, knowing that his friend was right. There was no way to change Hanta’s mind once it was set on something, much like it was impossible to change any of their minds. They were gods, and they were selfish. They took what they wanted and when they wanted it.

It was just that both of them were unnerved at the taking of a nymph away from the place they were bound to. Something that was never meant to be done. When they were created they were made to be invariably bound to the mortal realm, to avoid any chaos that may happen if they were to come to the heavens.

Hanta was playing a risky game, and though they trusted he would play his cards right, and well. They could not be sure that his actions would not cause a ripple effect that would turn into a grand-scale fight amongst them; like the choosing of the fairest once again.

Though they had no time to further delve into their thoughts on the matter, not when you and your sister had approached where they were hiding. Your giggles filled the air as you came into the springs once more; wanting a dip in their cool waters to help quench your thirst and cool you from the warm summer rays.

Both men tensed, breath hitching in their throats as you both started to slowly undress; taking off your charms and jewels, and placing them into neat little piles by the water's edge. Katsuki hated that you were lovely, hated that the stories of you both were true; for if they weren’t he would be able to justify what he was about to do as some sort of favor - to save those travelers all that time from trying to seek out a creature that turned out to be hideous.

Eijirou hated what he was about to do because you were so beautiful. Hated the fact that he would have to scar and torment such enchanting creatures for the sake of his friend; for if it were up to him, he would just bask in your glow until he was satisfied, and leave this place with a beautiful memory to last him eternity.

But it was not up to him, nor his companion next to him; and with deep, quiet breaths they both solidified their resolve and stood from where they once were hiding.

The startled gasps, the scrambling, and the screaming were all something they loathed to hear from you both as they made their way over to where you were. They hated how they had to play the part and chase you both down, to separate the both of you to further petrify you both. How they had to watch you stumble and fall, to scratch your perfect skin on tree branches and rock as you tried to get away from them; all of it.

They hated all of it.

But once they watched the pair of you rush into your home is when they stopped their chase. Made it seem like they had lost you somewhere within the trees; mumbling to each other how they would just come back another day before walking off, back to where they once were.

Sickness, that was all they felt at the bottom of their stomachs as they returned home. This victory was not like the one found in battle. Not one filled with glory and blood and sweat. This one was hollow, shallow as its waves crashed down upon them in a way that made them feel uneasy.

It was not the first time they chased a maiden down in hopes to garner their sweet bodies as their rewards. But somehow it felt like it was, and they could not look upon their friend when they told him of what had just transpired; couldn’t bear to see the glee in his eyes when he heard it all.

~~~

You both had not slept that night, for how could you when the one thing you were most afraid of happening to you, happened.

So, when Hanta visited you the next morning you couldn’t help but run out to him. Sprinting through the field of tall grass and throwing yourself onto him; clinging to him like he was the other tether keeping you to the ground.

“You cannot leave us again!” You cried out, tears flowing freely from your eyes and soaking into the cloth of his tunic “You cannot leave me again! Please! You cannot, not again!”

Hanta had to hide his smile, one that was filled with so much joy and satisfaction, from you as he further buried your head into his chest—allowing himself this moment to hold you close and shush you, to try and calm his body down and act the part of a confused and concerned friend.

“What has you so upset, my beloved?” He asked, pulling you from him to gaze upon your face, to allow you to see his concern for you. “What has gone wrong?”

“Y-you were right!” You wailed, unable to hide your sniffles and sobs as you spoke “T-they came! Y-y-your friends! They tried to take us!”

“Shhhh…” He cooed softly, pulling you back into him to try and calm you down “I know you must be terrified right now, but I’m here now. Nothing to worry about.”

“But you’re not always here!” Your voice was muffled due to your position, as you brought your arms up to dig into his side “You weren’t here yesterday! And that‘s when they came! You promised you would protect me!”

Hanta would admit, he hated seeing you cry. Hated hearing the way your voice, one usually filled with cheer, sounded so broken; so miserable. And he hated knowing he was the cause that set in motion the event that shook you to your core.

But it needed to be done, you needed to see how important he was to you. Needed you to see that your place was to be by him, that was where you were meant to be.

“I am trying to protect you, my honeysuckle…” Hanta brought a hand up to pet your hair, “But it is difficult for me to be in two places at once. My home is in the heavens, it is where I am to fulfill my duties to the mortals; it is rather difficult for me to make these trips to you as it means neglecting what I am meant to do. Unless....”

He let it hang in the air, a pregnant pause for you to become curious about what he might say. He knew he had you when you lifted your head up to look at him once again, repeating his last word back to him.

“Unless…” Hanta sighed, “Unless you leave with me, and come to live with me in my domain. Only then can I assure your protection.”

He knew you would not like his answer, especially as he saw new fresh tears starting to fall from your eyes, staining your cheeks with their hot streams. He cupped your face in his palm, wiping them away as he tried to comfort you once again, playing the part of a torn man in a tough situation perfectly, as he tried to reason with you.

“B-but my sister!” You babbled, head shaking at every word he was saying “I cannot leave my sister behind! I won’t do it!”

“Your sister can find solace in the mountains if needed! An anthousai is bound to meadows and fields! You cannot find that there, cannot find safety anywhere but where I can protect you!”

“B-but...”

“I know that it is a difficult thing to accept, a difficult choice you must make. But if you want the protection I can provide you must leave with me. I can promise you that nothing will harm you; not a finger to be laid on your skin while you are within my domain.”

You sniffle, looking into his eyes once more; to see if there was any trace of dishonesty within them. And, like always, there was none. With a shaky breath, and a nod of your head, you stepped away from his hold to walk back to your home to say your goodbyes.

Your feet felt like lead with every step. Your heart ached at every flower, leaf, and blade of grass that you passed for you knew it would be the last time you saw it. And as you made it closer and closer to where your sister was, to the home that made your heart feel warm.

Now it filled you with sorrow and dread, as you wondered if you would ever again feel the kind of happiness you felt when you first stepped within these walls. Wondered what would become of your sisters once you left this place for good. You hoped for nicer and better things, better companions, but your heart could not promise you such things, your mind could not ease its worries.

You couldn’t speak when she opened the door, asking you what was going on. All you could do was pull her into you, hold her in your tight grasp as you whispered how much you loved her. How brighter sunrises were upon her horizon, and how you would miss her so.

She watched you walk back down to him, your body shaking with the violent sobs coming forth. Watched as this man, this god, took you back into his arms and shushed you; claiming you down and whispering what she could only assume was sweet nothings to you.

She watched as you turned back to her once more. A broken smile, one that looked more like a pained grimace, appeared upon your lips as you brought a weak hand up to wave your last goodbye to her. A goodbye she never envisioned ever happening.

And then she watched him take you away; forever.

~~~

Hanta’s home was beautiful.

It was filled with golden pillars and furniture. Marbled rock adorned many surfaces, with plush pillows and linen upon beds, lounges, and chairs. You knew they would feel like clouds, be the softest things you could ever lie on.

But at this moment you couldn’t care for how soft anything felt, how plush and inviting the comfort was as it sank perfectly when your body had collapsed on top of it. Or how inviting it was to allow your body to enjoy it all, to allow it to lure you into a wondrous sleep.

No, for at this moment you were mourning the greatest loss you could possibly think of.

Hanta was kind enough to sit next to you through it. A hand running soothing patterns up your arms, your back, and even your hair as you cried out in anguish; never saying a word. Only murmuring out to you, after what felt like days of sobbing, to rest your head; to let yourself enter the land of dreams, and for Hitoshi to guide you to a sweet one. And you could not stop your body from finally agreeing.

For you would need your rest.

Hanta had waited long enough to finally have you here with him. He adored that you always believed him, that your naivete allowed you to trust him and his sweet words. To allow him to take you here, to the one place where you will never be able to escape him; for once a nymph was the enter the realm of the gods, she would lose her ability to transform - for how could a nymph become a tree, or a flower, while in the heavens?

They couldn’t. And now you were forever at his mercy. Forever to spend your days with him, indulging him in whatever splendor he wanted from you; for he was kind enough to indulge you for the months it took to woo you, it was only fair to pay him back in kind.

You, the sweet little anthousai. One too blinded by the God, whose sweet words and flattery made you melt, to notice that he had other titles too; that treachery and deception and craftiness came hand in hand with sweet nothings and empty compliments.

And oh, what a crafty web he had spun for you. The one who laid so sweetly upon his bed.

The one who called to him like a lost and sad child when you finally awoke. Your big eyes stared up at him, as you asked him for some food for your hungry tummy and something to quench your dry throat.

And who was he to deny someone so precious? A sweet little thing that asked him so nicely? He couldn’t and wouldn’t, and so he went to fetch you some of the finest fruits and ambrosia to nibble on as you tried to awaken your tired body. And wine, his special and most favourite wine for you to sip on.

When he held out the goblet to you, you hesitated; your arm halting before it could reach the drink. “I-it’s pink…”

“Yes, yes it is!” Hanta couldn’t help but laugh at your obvious statement, enjoying the way you eyed the pink liquid that seemed to swirl within its confinement with a mind of its own “A special kind of wine, the only kind reserved and enjoyed by the gods.”

The way you looked at him, eyes still showing trepidation over what he was offering. He couldn’t blame you for it, someone like you would not know the type of splendors the gods enjoyed from day to day; you were but a humble and simple thing.

Hanta shrugged his shoulders, bringing the goblet to his lips and taking a gulp of its contents. “Look see? Nothing wrong with it at all! Just a sweet wine, one that tastes like wild strawberries.”

He smiled when you finally relented, a sheepish smile gracing your own face when you finally accepted his offer; almost like you felt silly for doubting him in the first place. But again, you were just a sweet simple thing. How could you have known that gods are immune to the effects of aphrodisiacs?

How could you have known what they would feel like once they had taken hold of your body?

You couldn’t. And when you felt your breathing become labored, your body started to sweat as your heartbeat quickened, and for a strange heat to enter your belly; you grew scared. Wanting whatever heat that had entered you to subside and allow you to breathe; to allow the aching you felt to stop.

Hanta watched with mirth from the corner of his eye at you. Watching how your body squirmed and shifted, trying to get comfortable but never succeeding. Trying to ease your discomfort but failing to do so, not knowing how.

“Honeysuckle, are you alright?” He asked you, moving aside the platter of fruit to shift closer to you.

“I-I feel funny…!” You mumbled out, hand grasping around the wrist trying to check your temperature; unable to help yourself as you pulled him closer to you “I don’t know what’s wrong!”

You wished you could stop yourself, and show some form of modesty and restraint. But your body was on fire, and your mind had no way of stopping it from acting on its own. You clung to him, yet again. Though this time you had climbed into his lap, your hips stuttering as you inadvertently ground your lower half onto his leg.

“Funny how?” Hanta asked, eyes turning dark with lust as he watched you try to relieve yourself upon him so shamelessly, it made blood rush to his cock as he had to hold your hips in place; to help ground himself.

“I don’t know!” You whined, nails digging into the muscles on his shoulders - wishing he would allow you to move your hips again “I feel warm and funny, and it hurts!”

“It hurts?”

“Mhm!” You nodded, head ducking down to rest against his chest as you panted heavily, trying to get a level head once more, but failing miserably “I don’t know what to do!”

“I can help you” Hanta murmured, taking some of your hair and pushing it aside so he may be able to kiss along your neck, smirking when he heard you whine at the contact “Will you let me help you?”

You frantically nodded your head, but he tuts at that response; teasingly squeezing your hips in his gasp “Ah, ah, ah, I need you to say it love.”

You moved your head back up to look at him, and he relished the frustrated tears that were now forming in your eyes. The way your lips formed a pout, made them look more plush and delectable to try and bite and suckle on.

“Please help me Hanta” You whimpered out, unable to resist pushing yourself closer to him.

“Say that you’re mine, and I will give you everything you could ever need.” He baited, wanting to hear even more of your sweet voice.

“I’m all yours…”

You were going to say more; going to beg him further to finally help you; to ask him to stop prolonging your suffering. But you were silenced when you felt his lips press into yours. Felt the way they moved against yours, trying to get you to follow suit; which you do after a moment with fever.

You could help the moan that was muffled between you when you felt his tongue peak out, running along the bottom of your lip. You wished you knew what he wanted, you would be more than willing to give it to him. But Hanta seemed to understand this, and he moved your hips against him, allowing you to feel the hardness underneath. The gasp you let out was short-lived, as his tongue plunged into your mouth, exploring it slowly and expertly.

All you could do was melt into him; melt into his touch and the way he was kissing you. He left you breathless, panting hotly into the air when he finally parted from you; unable to keep the smirk off his face when he saw the blissed-out look you had acquired.

Hanta loved hearing the small gasps and whines you would let spill forth from your mouth, almost like you were unable to keep them hidden, when he started to kiss down your jaw. Moving slowly down your neck, leaving little nips to see your jump in surprise; your sweet little mewls going straight to his length that he was slowly rocking you onto

He was taking his time with you; he had waited so long just to have you at this moment and he wasn’t going to rush it; even if it was tempting with the way you kept pulling him closer and calling his name so sweetly. But he knew he needed to do everything right, everything perfectly, so you would crave him. Want him like this all the time.

He slowly pushed your shift down your arms, lips following closely behind his hands; to slowly caress and kiss every inch of skin you had allowed him to see and look upon. And what a sight you were to see; to him every inch of you was perfectly crafted and made him that more elated that you were all his.

“I know…” Hanta cooed, lips lavishing the skin of your breasts, fingers gently tugging on your hardened nipples “I know… it is uncomfortable. But let me take my time, love. I promise you it will be worth it. Let me worship you like you were meant to be.”

You jumped, unable to help yourself from placing a hand in his hair, tugging it harshly, when Hanta’s fingers brushed against your folds. He groaned, both at your harsh tugging and at how soaked you had become; just over some heavy petting.

Though, the feeling was foreign to you; one that kicked your senses into overdrive. You couldn’t help but clamp your legs shut, effectively stopping his hand from continuing, at the sudden and unfamiliar feeling.

“My love,” Hanta cooed, gently pulling your legs apart, “You asked for relief, and I shall give it to you. Put your trust in me, I can assure you it will feel good.”

He placed reassuring kisses along your chest, slowly petting his free hand up and down your thigh to help calm you; to help relax you and allow him access once again to your dripping cunt.

You sigh out after a moment, trembling legs finally parting for him, freeing his hand once again. Unable to help yourself from keening at his long fingers as they slowly started to up and down your folds. Being careful at where to touch, looking at your face to see which spots you reacted most to; centering in on them to hear you cry out for him.

Your little bundle of nerves is where he narrows in after he accidentally brushed against it; the way you moaned his name made his whole being shudder - wanting to hear you say it again and again and again. Wanting to watch you writhe and whine atop of him as you finally come undone by him.

You gasped, legs trying to close once more but unable to do so by a hand holding a thigh in place, when you felt his fingers start to circle your entrance, the one place that has never been touched or breached.

“Just breathe, I need to properly prepare you, my love.” Hanta groaned when he felt your quivering hole clench around nothing at his words “I promise you this will be just as good, if not better, than what I have already done.”

He truly had the hands of a god, the way they so delicately entered you; stretched you in such a way that you had no choice but to moan out for more. You never could have imagined this feeling, even in your sweetest dreams.

And it was accompanied by his words. Oh, how you could listen to him forever with the way he was groaning and purring our praises. Telling you how good you were doing, taking his fingers so well. How beautiful you looked like this, how he couldn’t imagine a more beautiful sight. And for you to come undone, allowing yourself to feel euphoria and grant him the chance to see it.

Who were you to deny such a tempting offer?

You were such a sight to behold. The way your body trembled, legs buckling as they struggled to hold your weight, hips unable to stop jerking away from his touch by still trying to keep the beautiful friction all the same. The way you cried out his name, unable to stop chanting it as you tried to breathe at the same time.

Hanta couldn’t help but push you down on your back, to hover over you as you tried to gain some semblance of thought once more. Hastily unrobbing himself, hissing when his cock was freed; having to take a deep breath and he stroked himself a few times before placing the blunt head at your leaking entrance.

“W-wait!” Your mind snapped you back into reality so quickly, you almost felt lightheaded “Hanta please wait!”

“For what?” He panted, hands gripping under your knees to lift your legs higher, “You are ready for me, my sweetest, and this will finally make all the unpleasant feelings disappear.”

“M’afraid!” You whimpered out, feeling the entirety of his length move between your folds as if to try and entice you once more; and the heat within you was proof it was working “Afraid it will hurt”

“You need not worry,” He purred, thumb rubbing little circles by your knees as he drank in the sight of you almost folded in half; how complacent you were. “For a moment it will, but only a moment. Then it will start to feel heavenly. Trust me, for I have not lied to you yet, have I?”

You shook your head, the action saying what you wanted to say - as words were failing you. He was right, he had always been honest with you, and even now he had shown you patience and pleasure beyond your wildest dreams. So why doubt him now?

He started to sink into you, after you had asked him to do so. Hanta let out a long groan as he felt your tight walls clamp down on him, both in trying to prevent him further but also milking him for everything he had to offer, and inch by inch he carved his way into your heat.

The burn was as he claimed, painful. But once he was fully sheathed, that burn began to change from that of pain, to that of wanting pleasure. The agonizing heat that had come from nowhere was coming forth once again to consume you in its agonizing flames.

“Hanta, please!” You cry out, hands reaching out to grip where his sat on your legs “Please move! Make this feeling go away!”

He was never one to say no to you. He nodded his head, taking a shaky breath, before slowly moving his hips; taking his length almost completely out of your weeping cunt, before pressing it back into you. Watching your face carefully to see if any discomfort could be found.

When your pinched brows started to relax, your breathing changing from pained chirps into those sweet breathy moans, and when you start to cling to him once more - nails finding purchase into the skin on his arms - does he pick up the pace.

Though, Hanta knows he will not last much longer, not when your warm heat clings to him so tightly, begging him to claim what is rightfully his and paint your pretty cunt white with his seed; he knows he must first have you cum around him. To selfishly feel your messy cunt spasm around him like it has never done before.

He brings one of his hands from where it was placed on your knee downwards to your bundle of nerves, moaning when he feels you instantly tighten around him.

“Come on, my sweet love” He pants, hand rubbing messy, uncoordinated, circles upon it “Let go for me, please? Trust in your god, and let that coil within you snap. Make a mess of the both of us.”

You keen and whine, the pressure building to an almost painful level within you. Though the dam finally breaks when you felt his length hit a particularly sweet spot within you, one that had you seeing stars. Your back arched, as you felt your breath hitch in your throat; unable to make any noise as your mind and body ascended to that plane of euphoria once more.

Hanta could not help but follow suit. Only a few messy thrusts and he stills inside you, his grinding up against the swell of your thighs as he moans; painting your insides with his seed - finally claiming you, completely, as his own. After regaining his breathing, though not fully, and placing your legs back down; he starts to pull out of you.

“No please!” You cry out, eyes turning glassy as you wrap your arms and legs around him once more “Stay with me please! I don’t want you to go!”

“I am not going anywhere, I promise” He smiled gently down at you, tucking your head under his chin as he pulled you to lay atop of him.

Hanta watched your breathing, watching you try and calm down. He cannot blame you for being so emotional, after all the highs the aphrodisiac gives are much stronger than anything you have ever been used to.

He smirks to himself when he sees your breathing finally began to even out, sleep over-taking you in its grasp. For now, he finally has you right where he wants you. And now, thanks to that wonderful potion, you will never, or want to, leave him.

Much like a rose and its petals, once one is swept away by the wind it is gone; forever. You were his rose petal and he was the wind that snatched you away.

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