#to their presence so that when they DO visit it’s absolutely unbearable

[storiesforthemoonchild]

Care | Aitana Bonmatí x Reader

I'm just absolutely soft for Aitana right now... fluff that's it! Soundtrack for the story is Care by Sonder... Enjoy :)

Aitana hadn't been home in a month, not since her Ballon d’Or win. Well she had been home just not at the same time you were. Between you traveling nearly every week for work and her national team duties, Champions League, and every other commitment she had now as a Ballon d’Or winner you always seemed to miss each other. Tonight however, you were sure she’d be there. 

You had been away the last few days visiting your parents back in London and decided to head home early to surprise the midfielder. Having spoken to her earlier in the day before she went to training, she told you she was spending the afternoon with Ona, so you knew you had time to prepare. Even going as far as reaching out to Ona to let her know you would tell her when to send her back home. 

After being together for the last year and a half the time apart was something you both had gotten used to but it was still never easy. Typically a week apart and you were both sending each other longing messages, so a month has been nearly unbearable. 

You loved coming home to Aitana curled up on the couch watching football or reading a book. Longed for the nights you spent giggling as you rub her sore legs and she struggles to teach you Catalan. Those were the moments you missed most over the last month.

You were quite smitten with your girlfriend and didn’t mind the teasing from your friends or hers when they called you whipped. You liked to take care of her and just shower her in love. That’s how Tana Days started. At the time, she had been stressed and you knew she had a few days off so you cleared your schedule and dedicated a full 48 hours to her. Making sure to pamper her, cook her favorite meals, and whatever else she wanted. 

So, here you were once again planning a Tana Day for her. When you left the airport earlier you made your way to the florist and grocery store to pick up everything you’d need. You were rushing around like a mad woman wanting everything to be perfect, but the truth is you knew it didn’t matter. Aitana was going to be happy just to see you. As you laid out the final touches, and dinner stayed warm on the stove you reached for your phone just as a message popped up. 

Smol Lover🧡: amor I don’t think I can go any longer. I will fly to London tomorrow. I will bring you home to me. Sí?

You immediately text Ona and tell her to send Aitana on her way, while you rush to the shower. Her text let you know you made the right decision in coming back early. You were both at your limit. You quickly dress in something comfortable and get cozy on the couch in anticipation of her arrival. You open your phone to scroll aimlessly when you see you had got another message. 

Smol Lover🧡: why read message and not respond? 

You knew Aitana would see you read the message and didn’t reply, but her angry texts were always so cute. You loved riling her up, and watching her fall short on any of her empty threats via text the moment you wrap your arms around her. 

Amor♥: Don’t come…

Smol Lover🧡: por qué amor? I am upset. Answer phone

You felt bad for the teasing, but knew her anger wouldn’t last long. You see your phone light up with a call just as the sounds of keys jingling in the door catch your attention. You sit up straighter looking over the back of the couch towards the door. Aitana pushes it open and a few curses slip off her tongue as she reaches for the phone she was holding between her ear and shoulder off the floor. She hasn’t noticed anything too focused on glaring at her phone as her call to you goes to voicemail. She kicks the door closed while typing away on the device, definitely a half-hearted threat to you of never talking to you again. 

“Do you need some help, love?” You finally let your presence be known as her head shoots up at the voice and she freezes. 

“Amor?” She questions like she doesn’t believe it’s you sitting there. You move to get off the couch when you see the look of distress on her face. Making your way down the short walkway towards her, the training bag, keys, and phone all hit the ground with a thud as she matches your steps. 

The first tear slides down her cheek just before she reaches your arms. “Don’t cry love,” you coax, wrapping her into you and kissing the top of her head. She pulls away slightly to look in your eyes the look of disbelief still present like she thinks you’ll disappear from her grip. “Hi,” you whisper, matching her gaze as your own voice is laced with emotion.

“Amor, why didn’t you tell me? I could have come sooner, no?” You smile, kissing away each tear as they slide down her flushed cheeks. You attempt to pull away and guide her to the kitchen she didn’t even spare a glance to on her way to you, but she doesn’t allow it pulling you closer. “Not yet. Stay, por favor.”

You don’t respond, just let her take all the time she needs while pulling her impossibly closer. A comforting hand running along the length of her back. She takes a deep inhale with her nose buried deep into your neck before pulling away slightly again to look in your eyes. You give her the Special Tana Smile, as she calls it, and lean in to connect your lips for the first time. It’s slow and tender, a moment to remember the feeling of each other after a month apart, not that either of you could ever forget. You pull away and peck away the pout that appears on her face, “can I show you your surprise now?” 

She nods and lets herself be pulled towards the kitchen where you had everything setup. The island filled with all her favorite goodies she probably wouldn’t indulge in due to training. You reach for the bouquet of pink camellia’s and present them to her bashfully, “they represent longing. I know a month apart has been hard, but I’ve never been more sure of my love for you than during this time. I’m so proud of everything you’ve accomplished and I’m sorry I wasn’t there to celebrate them with you, but this will be our special celebration.” 

The tears were falling freely from both your eyes now. An overwhelming sense of relief at finally having your girl in your arms again washed over you. “Mi amor…I don’t know how to say in english what I feel,” you chuckle at the comment. Neither of you had fully mastered the other's language, but you loved it. You can see the wheels in her head turning as she tried to find the words. 

“Bésame,” you tell her to put an end to her struggle. She does, passionately this time and you don’t need words in that moment to feel all the love she has for you. Refusing to get carried away you put an end to it, “go put your stuff in the room. I’ll run you a bath.” 

She quickly goes to pick up the items she abandoned at the door and you head to the bathroom. Filling the tub with water you add in her favorite bubble bath and light a few candles turning down the lights. Aitana reappears before you at the door, “get in while it’s hot baby,” you instruct.

She begins to strip away the layers of clothes and throw them in the basket before making her way over to you. ¿Tú también?” she asks with a tilt of her head.

“No, just you love. I’ll go and prepare the table for dinner and then come back for you. Tonight’s about taking care of you.”

She pouts, but doesn’t put up a fight, her body relaxing the moment it touched the water. You sit with her for a moment. Taking in the view of her hair hanging loosely around her relaxed face you reach out a hand just needing to feel her. “I love you Aitana.”

“Te amo mucho amor,” she smiles brightly. You leave a soft kiss on her lips before making your way out the room. 

You set the plan into action. Adorning the living room with large plush cushions and soft blankets, you light the fireplace creating a warm glow as you lower the lights and ignite a few more candles around the room to create an ambiance. Clipping the ends of the flowers you brought you put them in a vase and place them on the coffee table next to the small gift you got her. You set the table for two, pour two glasses of wine, and plate the food you prepared earlier. 

Everything was perfect. You grab your phone and connect it to the speaker, turning on the playlist you made for her on your one year anniversary. You jump when you feel two arms wrap around your midsection. “Baby no, you were supposed to wait,” you whine.

“Can’t wait. Te extrañé,” she tells you nuzzling into your back. You relax into the touch, missing the way it felt to have her body pressed against yours.

“Should we eat?”

“Sí,” she bounces over to the table and her face lights up seeing the food. You share a calm meal filled with all the stories from your time apart. The soft tunes mixing into the soft giggles shared over innocent touches. You usher her towards the living room after cleaning up your plates.

“I made you something,” you tell her, reaching for the small package you placed on the table. Aitana was quick to cuddle into your side head resting on your shoulder. “It's just missed you a lot.”

Aitana flips through the contents of the envelope. Thirty days worth of love notes you’d written for her every morning. It wasn’t your intention it had just happened. Aitana aggressively wipes at her tears, glancing up at you between each note. “Never leave me again. I will not allow it.”

You laugh pulling her into your lap, “okay amor.” It was impossible, you both knew it but it didn’t matter. You spend the rest of the night finding comfort in each other's arms. Grateful you made it back to each other and stronger than ever. 

#aitana bonmati #aitana bonmati x reader #aitana bonmati imagine #woso #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso fanfics

[hadesrise]

𝐒𝐈𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐓.

𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞. you are committed to the lord, but that doesn’t stop you from worshipping miguel.

𝖕𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘. miguel o’hara x priest!male reader

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘. nsfw content, foul language, top!reader, bottom!miguel, sacrilege, unprotected sex, possessiveness, choking, praise kink, dacryphilia, sex in a holy place, slight degradation, miguel calls reader “father” the entire time, priest smoking a cigarette, riding, pet names, spitting (just once), shotgunning, masturbation with audience (reader watching), unhealthy romance, false belief, reader might be a little morally grey

𝖆𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗'𝖘 𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖊. slutty outfit of miggy <3 this could possibly be a dark content because of the obsessive love (i may or may not have written reader as yandere). again, please correct my spanish if it’s incorrect and i’ll edit it immediately.

MINORS, FEM ALIGNED DNI !!

You’ve devoted your entire life to the Lord. Made a vow, an oath to keep your soul pure for him as you lead a sacred ceremony everyday. You’ve cleansed your spirit to fit the holy standards necessary to be a priest and your dedication to the church earned you respect and love from the people. You were holy, not an ounce of filth littering your heart or soul, having long repented your sins.

The people whispered joyously amongst each other how good you were. How kind, generous, loving, forgiving and accepting. Your warm presence provides comfort to everyone who visit the church, washing away their worry and doubt and sins. You were perfect, they talk among themselves. There’s no way a priest like you could do anything wrong — you’re the people’s hope, their light, the one who reminds them of their purpose. They would never think such thing, you have an utmost respect for the Lord! You’re nothing but a great person.

Miguel hears them say, all the time. But they don’t know.

They don’t know the way you look at him, the way you devour him with your gaze whenever he wears something too fit for his large toned body. How you always mutter “Oh forgive me, Lord” under your breath everytime you take in the outline of his pecks on his clothes, how your eyes darken and pupils dilate when looking at his slutty slim waist, how you stifle a groan when he accidentally enclose your fingers in his mouth while accepting hostia. They don’t know the filthiness of your mind and the temptation you were trying so hard to fight. However, Miguel knows. Of course, he knows, how could he not when you’re staring at him with that predatory look in your eyes, like you would bend him over and pound him right there in front of the altars? And oh, how filthy and fucked-up it was that he gets hard by the thought.

But it’s inevitable, Miguel convinces himself. You’re known for having absolutely no desire for anything at all — so to find out you’re yearning for him? It feels good. Feels so fucking good, because he’s the only one who made you feel that way. He liked the attention, even if it was subtle and nearly nonexistent. You only ever paid proper attention to him in ceremonies or in the confessional, but those lingering lustful gazes you give him when you thought he wasn’t looking made Miguel’s hole clench around nothing.

Miguel doesn’t know what he was thinking when he wore such a slutty outfit underneath his coat to a church, where you usually walked around after a ceremony to check for forgotten belongings or just admire the artwork littered around the ceiling. Maybe, to make you give in to your desires. To find out if you would break your vow for him. He feels filthy to be so desperate for a priest, it’s unforgivable for fuck’s sake, and yet he can’t stop. The unbearable desire was stronger.

He knows your schedule like the back of his hands, what you do at night after the ceremonies are over for the day. You were a divine man as viewed by the public, but Miguel knew your perfect façade peels off the moment those church doors close shut; he was met with a satisfying triumph when his point was proven after entering the sacred place, his eyes falling on your figure sitting on the pew chairs right near the entrance with a cigarette between your fingers. Arm resting on top of the backrest, head tilted back to slowly blow out a particularly large smoke. Miguel feels his clothes get tight around him at the sight. It’s arousing to see the usually collected and well-mannered priest be so loose and careless.

You watch him in the corner of your eye as he sits beside you and mumbles a small greeting. You don’t respond, however, and Miguel wonders why until he sees your eyes trail all over his body very slowly with that lustful look that makes him shiver, a tad bit of annoyance shining within your irises. It didn’t look like you were annoyed with his presence at a time so late like this, but rather with the coat he was wearing that nearly covered his entire body. You bring the cigarette to your lips, inhaling another smoke. “What brings you here, Mr. O’Hara?” The smoke coming out as you speak.

Miguel’s breath hitched; fuck, that’s hot.

He’s unable to meet your gaze when he could feel it piercing through him, the arousal pooling on his stomach and crotch. “I- uh... I missed your ceremony this morning.”

You hum mindlessly, like you didn’t really care despite asking first about it. “So did you think showing up would make up for it?” The question comes off rude and informal, but unlike usual, you don’t pay mind. It honestly doesn’t matter if he missed the ceremonies, the faith wouldn’t thin just because he was unable to attend, but you knew he was coming for other reasons. You have no plans to fulfill your desire despite the fact it’s already devouring you everytime you lay eyes on the man — admitting to yourself that you were crazy over Miguel while not turning yourself away completely from the sacred vows.

It’s a game of who gives in first and seduces the other. The church being the only witness to your silent agreement with one another.

“Yes...” Miguel whispers before he finally meets your eyes with reluctant determination, “Yes, I did think showing up would make up for it. Especially while wearing something like this.” He slowly unbuttons his coat and let it fall over his shoulders, your dark eyes widening at the sleeveless top that hugged his torso perfectly and showed outlines of his pecks and abs. Your pants tighten as your dick gets hard in an instant. Miguel suddenly gets shy under the strong burning stare you were giving him and almost rewears his coat with redness decorating his cheeks, which you quickly stopped by gripping his wrist and slamming him back against the backrest.

Miguel’s breath catches in his throat when he processed you had stood upfront to tower over him, one knee on the seat in between his legs. “Finish what you started, O’Hara.” The low and sultry tone in your voice made him shiver in excitement and thrill, surprisingly listening to your wish and letting the coat slip off. You groaned when you caught sight of his muscular arms being hugged by the long gloves that stopped right before his armpits.

Oh dear God, he looked thoroughly fuckable, like he was begging to be ruined here right in front of the Lord’s altar.

“Fuck...” You sigh heavily, breath hot. Miguel reacts almost immediately at the sound as his body grew tense for a split second before relaxing when your hands gently wrapped around his wrists, cigarette thrown on the polished floor. You trace the fabric up his arms, then ghosted your touch over his exposed skin, the atmosphere growing hot while goosebumps appear. Miguel feels overwhelmed under your hungry gaze, thighs squeezed together, feeling his hole clench around nothing. Your hands slide up his shoulders and one stayed there, rubbing circles, as the other moves up almost teasingly slow to his neck. His breath hitches at the contact, a low moan escaping when your fingers enclosed around his throat.

He was surprisingly putty in your hands, not pushing you off or avoiding your touches. Perhaps, it’s because he knows you will go back to restraining yourself if he stops you, could even discourage you to do anything anymore — your faith has always been impressive as it allowed you to keep the lustful and sinful thoughts at bay. However, the faith never once stopped you from breaking the vow on different occasions, like smoking, drinking, or even flirting with faithful worshippers. He can’t miss the opportunity to have you all over him.

A gentle squeeze to his throat causes his mouth to fall open slightly, cloudy eyes meeting your strong ones that burned in desire. “Open, my dear. Let me.” Miguel does as he’s told, opening his mouth. Pleased with the lack of resistance, you shift your hand to hold his chin instead and gathered enough saliva in your mouth before spitting in his, watching as he squirmed slightly, the filthiness of your action going straight to his needy cock. You smirk when he swallows your spit almost greedily.

Miguel gasped when your knee starts rubbing his dick through his pants, falling forward and clinging onto your leg as his body twitch in pleasure. You click your tongue disapprovingly and slip your fingers through his hair before yanking it, a groan erupting from the man at the roughness. “You come to a church dressed and act like a filthy slut, always tempting me to fuck you in front of God’s temple. You’ve been hoping, haven’t you? For me to fuck the ever living shit out of this cunt?” You rubbed harder, your words making Miguel choke out a moan.

“Y-yes, father,” He gasps between grunts and moans. “I’ve been so desperate. Forgive me, father, please.”

Sweet Mother of God.

How this man manage to make you breathless even while being submissive is quite outstanding. You devoted your whole life to the Lord, thoroughly committed and faithful despite breaking few of your vows in privacy — the only vow haven’t being broken is having sex which is considered a filthy sin in priesthood, although you have technically broken it due to the amount of times you’ve fucked Miguel dumb in the depths of your imagination. It is unforgivable for a priest to be like this, will even be banished from the city if caught, reputation forever tarnished and have no choice but to live in shame.

But Jesus Christ, Miguel was such an irresistible temptation. Like the devil that whispered in Eve’s ear to take the holy apple in the Garden of Eden, he tempted you with that whore-ish body of his that practically begs to be bent over and wrecked. Your vows shattered to the ground and holiness replaced by despicable lust. The thread of self-control being sliced open as the scale of good and evil heavily swung in your head.

You were not good despite what people think. Often indulging yourself in the fantasy to possess Miguel and make him yours, your soul was as corrupted as the soul of sinners even with the faith to God still existing. The reputation as a good priest never settled comfortably within, sometimes would even make you roll your eyes at it while slowly killing your lungs with the cancer stick, hidden behind the thick doors of the sacred temple. You had no resistance to the sinful desires; as twisted as it sounds, you’ve embraced them with open arms and accepted them to just be human nature.

The punishment will be severe if caught, but our dearest Father, it wouldn’t hurt to receive your reward for being such a devoted priest, right?

You glance at the altar where you usually stood to hold sacred ceremonies, the long table and your chair catching your eyes as an idea formed. A sadistic grin spreading across your lips, Miguel yelps when you suddenly hoist him up from the pew chairs and wraps his legs around your torso, heart fluttering at the way you didn’t even struggle to lift him up despite his large size. The showcase of your sheer strength made him nearly whimper as he buried his face on your shoulder, not noticing how you were walking towards where the presence of God is most apparent.

He feels himself being sat on a hard wood and pulls away, freezing up when the sight of the biggest crucifix meet his vision. You sat down on the chair like a throne in between his spread legs, smiling devilishly at the look of horror on his face as you bring up another cigarette to your lips. “What’s the matter, sweet thing? You don’t look so thrilled,” Your teasing tone nearly mocking.

“F-father, I can’t—” His cheeks heat up as shame suddenly settled on his expression, knowing he was here in front of your God drenched in lust and impossibly filthy, his legs threatening to close and rub together at the thought of getting fucked here.

“You can and you will,” You cut him off and exhale a smoke. “You’ve been screaming my name in the comforts of your sheets and praying to him for me to break you, Miguel, and I’m finally giving you what you want.” Oh, Miguel felt himself weaken at the cruel look on your face. “Why don’t you show our Lord some gratitude and fuck yourself here?”

He knew he couldn’t resist. Not when you’re being good to him, willing to answer his prayers from the sleepless nights. With a shaky breath, Miguel unbuckles his belt and unzips his trousers, face red from embarrassment as he slips it off, leaking cock bouncing on his abdomen. Your eyes pierce into his soul, he feels so fucking dirty like this, presenting himself so willingly to you.

“Spread your legs more,” You nudged his leg with your foot, “Can’t see your pretty cunt properly from here, sweetheart.”

Miguel whines quietly and oh, what a holy sound it was. It almost makes you have mercy on him and spare him another embarrassment. Almost.

He bit his lip and shut his eyes close, bending his knees and raising his spread legs to the table until the heels of his feet touches the surface. You lick your lips at the bare sight of his quivering hole, dick twitching in your pants. Miguel slowly opens his eyes and sees you breathe heavily while palming your still clothed cock, smoke leaving your lips from the cigarette. For a moment, Miguel imagines what it would feel like to be shotgunned by you before bringing his fingers to his mouth and sucking lusciously on them as he stares at you, making you groan. He didn’t bother taking off the long gloves seeing its effect on you.

Not wanting to waste more time, Miguel reached down and shoved a wet finger in his hole without hesitation, moaning loudly. He adds another and starts fastening his pace, curling and scissoring himself to stretch his tight wet walls as he whimpers at the pleasure. It feels so filthy masturbating in front of you and the sacred altar, but the thrill only added to his arousal and excitement; your gaze not moving from him encourages him to fuck himself harder.

Fuck, Miguel looks so pretty like this. Previous shame and embarrassment long gone from his face as all he could focus on was making himself feel good, the filthy act serving as display of sins yet you perceived it differently — what Miguel’s doing was an act of devotion, to submit to your will in front of God while making himself the sacred offering. He looks divine being lost in pleasure, his moans like angels singing harmonies from Heaven. You can’t help but breathe deeply and mutter gratitude to the Lord for blessing you with Miguel as you finally peel off your pants and free your aching cock to spring up.

Miguel mewls at the sight, fingers growing fast yet not enough to perfectly stimulate his prostate. Tears pricked his eyes as he whines, “I—I can’t— father, por favor,” You groan at the pleas that fell from his lips. “I’m— please, I can’t do it, I can’t— Want you. Want you so bad.” The thrust of his hand growing sloppy as he gets tired. It wasn’t enough, he wanted bigger. More thick and long, something very warm that could fill his guts entirely and make him feel full.

A curse leaves your lips and Miguel chokes out a moan when you shoved two fingers into his stretched out hole without warning with his fingers still inside. “¡Mierda—!” Gasping at the sting of being stretched open, Miguel grabbed onto your shoulder and moaned as your fingers thrusted into him, forcing his to do the same. The pleasure makes his mouth fall open and eyes shed tears.

“You’re fuckin’ addicting, Miguel.” You say darkly, biting on his throat through the fabric of his turtle neck sleeveless top. He whimpers and tilts his head back slightly to give you more access. A slut correctly dressed in slutty outfit. “You know I’m not a good person right, sweet thing?” You whispered. An underlying mystery in your tone, your head swallowed by horrible thoughts you wish to contain by devoting your life to the holy. “Everytime I see you, I want to just fuckin’ break you and make you mine. Corrupt your soul into the shape of my own. Make you yearn for me, desire me ‘til you can’t live without me.”

Miguel lendered speechless at your display of possessiveness. It was anything but holy. Anything but forgivable. Sin created by the darkness that lurks in your soul; lust, greed, gluttony. You desired him, wanted more of him, and could never get enough of him, the sacred vows powerless against your evil. He should be scared, frightened that those aren’t enough to sustain you, but he really wasn’t. If anything, he felt even more aroused as his hole squeezes down on both of your fingers.

“Then, make me. I want you, all of you. I need you, father, please.” Miguel whines and his hand moved from your shoulder to the back of your neck, pulling you in a desperate kiss. You groaned into his mouth, rubbing harshly against his prostate which releases a muffled cry from him, before pulling your fingers out together with his.

You licked his slick from your fingers and moaned at the taste, keeping eye contact with him. Miguel hides his heated face by the back of his hand. “Aw, don’t go shying on me now, sweet thing. You tempted me, remember?” Faking a pout, you caress his bare thighs and knead the thick and soft flesh that prompts Miguel to slowly lay back down on the table. He feels exposed with wearing nothing but the slutty top that he unregrettably decided to put on today, right in front of you. It made his heart jackhammer against his chest. How you’re completely losing yourself at the sight of him in absolute lust, pupils blown wide.

Standing up from the chair, you push it behind with your foot while inhaling a smoke from the cigarette and align your cock to the entrance of his twitching hole, Miguel’s breath hitching at the contact. “Bésame, por favor...”

You hummed in response and held the smoke in your lungs, leaning in to capture his lips before blowing the smoke into his mouth. Miguel instantly moans, greedily accepting, his legs wrapping around your torso to bring you close. You chuckled into the kiss before slipping yourself inside of him, a stuttered gasp leaving Miguel as your sheer size and length forcibly stretched him open with a delicious sting of pain.

“Father— fuck! B-big, big,” He whimpers.

You shush him, “You can take it, my dear. You’re a good boy.”

You had to grit your teeth to contain yourself from just using him like a sex toy as an egotistical feeling built within you, the monster of your dark desire finally being fed at last. Still, it kept writhing in your guts, swirling around and yearning for more of Miguel. Can’t get enough of him, like an addicting drug that keeps you coming back for more, a living sinful temptation that you don’t refuse. Miguel awakens your demons that you’ve put to sleep by kneeling on the chapel and reciting prayers.

Miguel could see you were struggling hard, even though your nonchalant façade tried to hide it. Darkness screaming to be let out and be your true self, which was being held back by the greatness in you that was afraid of hurting him. However, as much as he loved the softness in your touch, he wasn’t a glass easily broken. He wanted everything of you as much as you did, even if he gets hurt, he doesn’t care. Just like those darkness slips through once in a while, he wants it to be fully out.

“Father, it’s okay,” Miguel whispered and you sharply inhaled a breath when he hooks a hand under his thigh to bend it, knee almost touching his shoulder. He looks at you through lidded eyes as his other hand reached down to spread his hole that clenches around your cock. It nearly makes your head spin with arousal. “I can handle it. I won’t break easily, you can be as rough with me as you want. I’ll be good for you, father. Just please, fuck me, use me.”

You shut your eyes closed and sighed deeply.

Oh, Sweet God, forgive me.

Miguel doesn’t realize he sliced through your self-restraint cleanly as you suddenly pull your cock all the way out, leaving just the tip in. “Wait, what are—” You cut him off with a harsh and rough slam of your hips. Miguel’s mouth falls open in a scream, eyes wide and head thrown back, practically feeling your fat cock in the back of his throat from how deep it buried in his guts.

“You’re— fuck! You’re going to be the death of me, Miguel.” You chuckled, already pulling your cock out to set a merciless and rough pace to fuck him. Miguel chokes out a moan, his hand flying up to grasp the edge of the table. “A whore so willing to take everything of me. Gotta spoil you rotten with my cock, eh?” Stabilizing the cigarette between your fingers, you pushed both of his legs to his chest and slammed your hips down, making Miguel’s eyes roll to the back of his head.

“Thank you, thank you— auuughh!!” Miguel moans loudly, his other hand slamming against the table.

You lick your lips with a dangerous glint in your eyes, “You’ll accept everything of me, won’t you? Even my flaw, even my evil?”

Miguel could barely talk with your cock absolutely ruining his cunt, tears staining his cheeks and drool dripping from his lips, but he tries his best. “Y-yes, fuck! I’ll do— I’ll do anything— ohhh!"

You laughed almost maniacally in happiness, one of your hands moving up to wrap around his throat. Miguel whines desperately and latches his hand on your wrist, spilling babbles of begs as you keep pounding him against the table. His tits bounce in rhythm with your rough thrusts, encaged in those tight sleeveless top, and you lean down to bite down on the covered skin. Miguel’s body writhes underneath you, crying out.

“God shall forgive me for yearning you this much,” You muttered, licking his hard nipple through the fabric while squeezing his arteries.

Miguel’s eyes catches the crucifix before rolling back into his skull, uncontrollable moans escaping.

This wasn’t right, but it felt so good to be wrong. Being fucked by a priest, fucked by you. The filthy sin burning his skin and molding with your equally filthy soul. His mind growing dizzy from the pleasure and the euphoric sense of committing an unforgivable sin with you.

His hole squeezing you down made you groan, pace slowing down as you released his throat. Miguel coughs slightly, choking on his own whimpers. You continue to abuse his prostate with less roughness now, gripping his hips with one hand hard enough to leave a handprint as you bring the other to inhale a smoke again. You blow the smoke into his mouth, Miguel eagerly accepting as he pulls you in a desperate kiss. He had no shame, really. Being your perfect slut in the Lord’s place, in front of the Lord’s altar.

Pulling away, you admire the way he looked. Disheveled hair, eyes glossed in tears with pleasured expression on his face, brows scrunched up together, lips red and swollen. His cock leaked precum on his abdomen, staining the slutty black top. He’s the Heaven you’ve longed to see. A sight to behold.

“So beautiful... So divine,” You whispered, your thrust slow and sensual but sharp. Miguel mewls at the praise. “I should’ve devoured you faster if I knew you’re such a good bitch f’me. Would’ve asked for God’s permission to break you sooner. He would’ve allowed me to.” Your hands gently massage his breasts, making him sigh softly, before it travels down to trace his torso. He’s so mesmerizing; a blessing crafted by the divine beings above.

“Mhm,” Miguel moaned softly as he reached for your face. “You’ve been so loyal and patient, father... Maybe he’s rewarding you for it.” His luscious words tempting and seductive, he licks and nips at your neck.

Releasing a quiet moan, you hummed and wrapped your hand around his throat again as he whimpered, completely accepting. “Then, shall I do as I please with my reward?” Snapping your hips against his, Miguel lets out a gasp at your cock poking his prostate.

He bites his lip, nodding vigorously. “Sí, sí... Es todo para ti.”

You slam his body back down on the table with a groan, Miguel’s hands wrapping around your back and scratching at the skin through your clothes as you pick up your pace, the roughness intended to break him returning. You didn’t care even if he ripped your clothes, the church provides them anyway. Your ears swallowing every heavenly sounds that uncontrollably escaped Miguel’s mouth, your eyes never once trailed away from how divine yet sinful he looked, the sight carved deeply into your memories to never be forgotten.

Thank God for Miguel O’Hara, a man so willing to become the meal just so he could quench your thirst and feed your hunger.

So forgiving, so generous, so kind, despite the fact you were nothing but evil disguised in holy figure.

He’s the answer sent by God to your desperate prayers to keep your sinful demons at bay; he’s here for a purpose, so your desire will be fed and your filthy soul will be baptized to become holy again. The Lord wasn’t abandoning you, no. He was giving you solution to not taint your soul furthermore. Yearning for Miguel was not a sin nor wrong — it was how it’s supposed to be.

It is all the Lord’s plan. Otherwise, how could anyone explain this, right?

“Haah, fuck,” You can’t help but curse as you drill into him, no longer holding yourself back. His hole’s too fucking good. “You’re fucking made for this, Miguel, holy shit. Your guts are practically the shape of my dick,” You laugh breathlessly and press his tummy where your cock reaches, Miguel choking out a sob at the stimulation of being sandwiched from outside and inside. He could feel it even clearer, how you mercilessly thrust in and out.

“A-agh! Es— espera, para—” He was cut off by his own scream when you forced yourself even deeper, stars sparking in his vision and back arching as his body quivered violently, white seed staining his top. And yet, you didn’t stop even after he came, relentless pace continuous as if you don’t care about overstimulating him. Fat tears rolled down his cheeks at your sweet cruelty of assault in his tight cunt, mindless choked up moans and incoherent sentences spilling from his lips.

The corner of your lips twitched in devilish grin witnessing the way his mind breaks and turns into nothing but a dumb mess underneath you. “Lo siento, mi alma. pero es tan agradable romperte.” You licked a stripe of tears on his cheek, hearing the way he whined and moaned. Fuck, his helpless sounds of pleasure never fails to drive you crazy.

“Sí, sí, sí— n-no pares, por favor,” The intense pleasure making his legs shake and his mind delirious, Miguel arches his back to meet your hard thrusts. Dear God, you fuck him so good his head spins. Those women who drools over you as you lead the ceremony will never be able to experience how rough and fuckin’ amazing you fuck, he’ll make sure of it.

Miguel sobs from overstimulation when you harshly bit on his nipple, holding onto you for dear life to ground himself and shake away the threat of falling unconscious from the sheer pleasure you give him oh so generously. Sparks never leaves his vision, which should be concerning if it wasn’t for his will to welcome anything you give with open arms. He brought this upon himself anyway, it will be a shame if he doesn’t enjoy every moment of it.

“Feels fucking good, sweetheart, doesn’t it?” You asked rhetorically and grasp his sensitive cock in your hand, making him cry out and weakly attempt to push it off, the pleasure becoming too much it hurts. “Take it, Miguel. Take it like the slut that you are for me.”

“N-no puedo, no puedo, padre, por favor—”

“Yes, you can, sweet thing.” You chuckled softly, pumping his cock in a slow manner. He couldn’t do anything but cry and whimper as you push him over and over to the edge, forcing out another orgasm. “Cum f’me, you’re my good boy, you can handle it.” Miguel throws his head back as his toes curl and his cock shoots out ropes of cum again, eyes rolling into his skull and soundless scream escaping his throat.

You grunt at his tightness, giving him mercy and slowing down your thrusts but not stopping. “Good boy, Miguel.” Pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, Miguel keens when your hips starts picking up pace a little faster.

Shutting his eyes close, he shakes his head vigorously. “No— No puedo, no puedo m-más— Es- es demasiado—”

You shush him and wipe his tears with your thumb, “I know, I know. Just a little bit more, sweetheart, I promise.” The soft words distracting Miguel enough for him to open his hazy eyes slowly, before you pulled your hips back and rammed into him in one swift motion. You shivered in sadistic thrill at the sound of Miguel’s erotic scream and railed him like a dog in heat, overstimulating him further as he became a babbling dumb bitch who has no choice but to take your ruthlessness.

It would be wiser to cover his mouth because of how carelessly loud his moans and screams were, but you were too focused in chasing your climax and driving him delirious that it didn’t matter anymore.

Soon enough, your cock throbbed inside him and had mercy on the poor perfectly used man as Miguel let out a broken moan, throat already hoarse. “Fuck, pray to me. Won’t you, you sweet thing?” You groan, thrusts getting sloppy due to the knot coiling in your stomach.

“Please—” He chokes out, “C-cum, cum in me, por favor, padre.”

String of curses leaving your lips, you finally met your climax as your cock shoots out sperm and paint his guts in white, the warm feeling making Miguel moan lewdly and cum right after you, rather weakly. His body spasms and quivers non-stop, too overstimulated, unable to calm down from the mind shattering multiple orgasms.

You sigh and slowly grind your hips, just to ride out the peak. Pulling down his turtle neck to kiss the skin properly, you looked at the large crucifix in the corner of your eye.

Forgive me, Lord—

Your plea for forgiveness fall into deaf ears as you seal Miguel’s lips who tried kissing back, but ultimately fell into a deep slumber due to exhaution.

—For I am about to break your blessing’s spirit.

You’re a man of your word. You meant it when you said you didn’t want to hurt him, but Miguel insisted. It isn’t your fault your demons are free now.

And it certainly wouldn’t be your fault that he wouldn’t get to see a daylight anymore.

© ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʜᴀᴅᴇsʀɪsᴇ. sᴛᴇᴀʟɪɴɢ, ᴘʟᴀɢɪᴀʀɪᴢɪɴɢ, ᴏʀ ᴜsɪɴɢ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ғᴏʀ ᴍᴏɴᴇᴛᴀʀʏ ɢᴀɪɴ ɪs sᴛʀɪᴄᴛʟʏ ᴘʀᴏʜɪʙɪᴛᴇᴅ. ᴀsᴋ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ʙᴇғᴏʀᴇ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛɪɴɢ ᴏʀ ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪɴɢ.

#gay #lgbtq #mlm #male reader #x male reader #miguel o'hara x male reader smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x male reader #miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #miguel x reader #miguel x male reader #miguel spiderverse #miguel o'hara smut #spiderman #miguel o'hara spiderverse #spiderman x male reader #spiderman x reader #across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #smut #marvel #marvel x male reader #marvel x reader #male x male #sub miguel o'hara #sub atsv #imagines #marvel smut #atsv smut

[wordsinhaled]

at exactly six thirty, dream announces his arrival with a sharp knock. hob startles—he absolutely has not been on tenterhooks in the hallway for the last ten minutes—and forces himself to wait a reasonable spell.

the length of five heartbeats, no more.

when hob answers the door, his readied greeting dies on his lips. for all that dream’s visit had been expected, even planned, he finds he isn’t quite prepared for the reality of his presence.

dream is there, standing on hob’s stoop, looking... well, bloody impeccable, to hob’s mind, but then doesn’t he always? if hob thinks there might be a bit of flourish in the cut of his friend’s figure that day, in the striking sweep of his long coat, hob doesn’t presume that it’s for his benefit. no, that’s just dream, who knows no other way to appear. far more likely that hob has just missed him. he lets out a breath he’s been holding for months. grins so wide his cheeks will start to ache soon. lets himself drink in the sight of dream for one protracted moment.

it takes him perhaps longer than it should to realize dream is looking in return. his eyes are ink-dark and replete with stars. his regard has a weight to it, like a physical caress, though the two of them still stand, respectably, on either side of the threshold. it makes a little tendril of heat curl its way up the back of hob’s neck.

“hello again, hob gadling,” dream says, after a time, in a voice that defies description. he wears just the hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth, like a secret only their own.

it’s then that hob remembers the flowers he’s clutching rather too tightly to his chest.

the roses are a velvety crimson. they’d reminded hob of dream’s ruby, when he’d seen them at the market on his way home from teaching that afternoon, so he’d gotten them—almost on a whim, before he could think better of the idea. they’re wrapped in brown paper and secured with a length of coordinating ribbon. hob feels a tad foolish, glancing down at them now. what need does a dream king have of flowers? of anything material in the waking world?

but, hob thinks, isn’t there yet something about dream that asks to be courted? that deserves every last bit of gallantry, no detail spared? hob has all the time in the world to be a perfectionist. to do the thing properly. so if he’d lingered over the minutiae of his own outfit—deep red blazer to complement the flowers, sandalwood-forward cologne—then... what of it?

and he’d been right about the color of the roses and the ruby—a near-perfect match. today dream wears it subtly, at his collar, on a thin silk cord. the ruby glimmers, almost disappearing against the deep black of dream’s clothes, capturing the sun’s last rays and reflecting, barely, a few faint prisms onto the pale hollow of dream’s throat. hob finds his gaze catching there, and has to drag reluctant eyes up to dream’s face.

“hello,” hob says. he holds out the bouquet to dream. “these are for you.”

dream blinks at him, inscrutable. for a split second, hob imagines he is about to be rejected. he envisions dream turning on his heel, striding off down the lane in a whirl of black gabardine, not to return for another century.

it would be unbearable, hob knows. he can picture it so clearly: how he will still bear it; how he will wait. how he will try again in a hundred years.

instead, dream takes the flowers. cradles them gently in his shaper’s hands, as though they might disintegrate if he doesn’t steward them carefully. he puts his fingertips to the petals, to the stems and the brown paper and the ribbon and the long sharp thorns, as if learning their textures anew.

“thank you,” he says. this time, hob can start to describe dream’s voice: surprised and softer, lovely with wonderment and something hob doesn’t dare name. it’s worth a thousand bouquets. hob will gladly feel all of sixteen again and a little wrongfooted, for this moment, for that voice. to hear it always, sounding just like this.

a wind kicks up, then, whipping at the hem of dream’s coat, carrying the crispness of early autumn up the walk to hob’s front door. a shiver breaks hob from his reverie. dusk is fading into proper night around them, a cold one, streetlamps and lights in neighboring windows flickering on like will-o’-the-wisps through the fog.

“oh, but i’ve been impolite...” hob ducks his head, half-coy, hoping the fall of his hair will hide his flush from his friend. but he can sense dream looking at him, still, intent and endless. thinks it can’t have escaped his notice after all, for nothing ever does. “would you like to come in?”

#the sandman #dreamling #dreamgadling #i don’t know what this is but i saw the fanart of hob with the flowers and lost my shit #fic

[lanawinterscigarettes]

JENNIFERCHECK. SAD READER W SH/EATING ISSUES IF UR OK W IT

DUDE I FEEL TARGETED LOL

I'm (Not) Fine (Jennifer Check x reader)

Warnings: hurt/comfort, reader suffers from unspecified mental health issues, swearing, Jennifer may be out of character, mentions of self harm/self harm scars, mentions of eating issues, please don't read this if it will negatively affect you or your mental health in some way

Life seemed absolutely unbearable recently, and nothing you did seemed to make it better. The only thing that made you happy was when you were at school, because that meant you would get to see Jennifer.

Most people saw her as nothing more than a shallow, materialistic bitch, but you were able to see past her snarky attitude and realize she was actually much more fragile and kind than she was made out to be.

You usually sat in the back of the class, but since becoming friends she would always save you a seat next to her, which was up near the front. You felt awkward and out of place sitting so close to so many people, but her mere presence was always able to make you feel better.

Once school was over, you would follow your usual routine of doing your homework as slowly as possible, trying to ignore the aching pain in your stomach and the twitchy feeling you got in your hands whenever you felt the need to hurt yourself.

Then you'd take off your school clothes, drink some water to try to fill the gaping hole left behind in your abdomen by your lack of food intake, then crawl into bed and pass out (but knowing you you'd only get about three or four hours of sleep before you'd have to wake up and endure it all again).

You tried to make it seem like you were okay, because you were, really. Of course you were okay, how could you not be? You were fine, everything was fine.

For the most part, people seemed to believe you. All except for one person, that is.

Jennifer.

She always seemed to know when something was wrong, and you could tell she knew you were lying when you forced laughter or faked a smile, even if she didn't say it out loud. She noticed a hell of a lot more than you would have given her credit for.

She noticed the way you started wearing only long sleeves, even on hot days.

She noticed the way you started eating less and less, often times skipping lunch altogether.

She noticed the way you only seemed genuinely happy when you were with her, almost as if it was the only time you were physically able to.

Although she desperately wanted to comfort you, she didn't know how to confront you on such a topic, so she kept quiet. She hoped that for the time being, her presence would be enough; and it was, up until the very moment it wasn't.

Nearly a week had gone by, and you hadn't been at school. In fact, you hadn't contacted her at all, not even to tell her why you were gone. Jennifer vowed that she'd get to the bottom of it, even if she knew her snooping wouldn't make you happy.

She showed up at your house the next day, arms full of uncompleted school work from the days you missed. At that point you'd trusted her enough to give her a spare key, so she didn't even have to bother knocking before letting herself in.

Your bedroom was the first place she visited, giving two brief knocks on your door as a sign she was there.

"Go away," your muffled, sad sounding voice said from inside.

"It's Jennifer, I'm here with your school stuff," she said. "Now, are you going to let me in, or do I have to break the door down?" She had a joking tone, but something told you she wouldn't necessarily be against doing just that.

"Alright, fine. Just gimme a sec."

When you opened the door, she saw the ever constant bags under your eyes had gotten significantly worse, as if you hadn't slept in days.

"Come in, I guess," you mumbled, stepping aside so she could enter your room.

It was a mess. Clothes were heaped up in large piles on the floor and the small garbage can you kept by your desk was overflowing with trash.

You flopped down onto your equally filthy bed, kicking a half empty party sized bag of chips onto the floor as you did so.

Jennifer set your school stuff down on your desk before making her way over to you. Her nose crinkled up in disgust as she tried to find a clean place to sit on your bed before realizing it was a lost cause and sitting down anyway.

"Are you okay? Because you've been acting really weird for the past few months or so, and I'm worried for you," she finally said after a moment of sitting together in silence.

"Yeah, I'm fine, don't worry." You gave her a smile that didn't reach your eyes.

"Bullshit, you're fine. If you were really fine you would have been at school this week. Now, tell me, what's really been going on?"

Your facade crumbled the second she asked that question, collapsing into her arms while you burst into tears.

"Everything's just so awful, Jen, and I don't see any way that things could get better."

She gave you an awkward pat on your back, clearly not expecting you to respond that way.

"Look, I know things might not be the best right now, but it will get better for you, I promise. One day, we're going to be old enough to be on our own, and then the two of us can leave this sorry ass town for good."

You looked up at her, teary eyed. "Really? You wanna run away some day, with me?"

"Of fucking course I do. Now, let's get you out of that disgusting hoodie so it can be washed, then we can order takeout and watch Mean Girls, how does that sound?"

You hung your head in shame. "Jen, I- I can't take off my hoodie."

"Well, why not?" She asked, confused.

"Because, I... I relapsed," you whispered, tears threatening to escape the corners of your eyes.

"Hey, it's alright. I'm not upset, okay? I'm proud of you that you made it this far," she gently comforted you. "Do you need me to clean the cuts for you?"

You nodded, afraid if you tried to speak again you'd resume crying.

Jennifer took you to the bathroom, using soap and water to clean the fresh scars on your arms. Once that was done, she did her best to tidy your bed so the two of you could sit on it together while you watched the movie.

You gave a soft smile as you watched her, realizing two things at once. First, you were in love with your best friend, and second, you were the happiest you'd been in a while.

~

{Divider by @kukatz }

Main masterlist | Jennifer's Body masterlist | wanna added to my taglist?

🏷 taglist: @anxiously-sad @iloveentrapta @ghot-girl @taecube @corn3liiia @gilmore-angel @your-next-daydream @alexxavicry

#jennifers body #jennifers body imagines #jennifers body imagine #jennifers body x reader #jennifers body fic #jennifers body angst #jennifer check #jennifer check imagines #jennifer check imagine #jennifer check x reader #jennifer check fic #jennifer check angst #hurt/comfort #jennifers body hurt/comfort #slasher imagines #slasher fic #x gn reader #x fem reader #x male reader

[slutzandcuckz]

Title: Not So Not Together

Rated M 18+ ((MINORS (MEANING ANYONE UNDER THE AGE OF 18 🙃) ARE NOT WELCOME TO READ OR INTERACT WITH THIS POST. MINOR AND AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED))

PUT YOUR AGE IN YOUR BIO RN

Content Warning: all characters are 18+, katsuki bakugo x reader (gender neutral language used, AFAB reader), angst, exes au, recently broken up, soft bakugo, these bitches in love ❤️‍🩹, crying, kissing, dry humping, ass play (to reader), baby used as a pet name (to reader), sad times 😞

Estimated Word Count < 3200 * I edit my writing too often to commit to a static number 🥴

“I’m coming over.”

Fuck.

“Ok—”

The call ends abruptly. He’s always the one to hang up first, leaving you to reflect on your poor decisions with three mocking beeps ringing in your ear. You don’t have to pick up when he calls. Some days are easier than others, especially when you have things to do or people to see. But it’s late on a Thursday night, and you can’t go to sleep. Why don’t you put forth a better effort to go no-contact? Why can’t you block his number, or unfollow his socials? At the very least you could delete his pictures. But you don’t because you’re weak. And pathetic. And in love.

The phone feels heavy in your hand, like it’s bearing the weight of all your inadequacies. Your arm drops limp in defeat, and your body follows shortly after. All you can bear to do is lie on your back and stare at the ceiling fan.

It’s best to not think about how the past four months have been absolute hell—coping with a break up that neither of you really wanted. Your relationship just ended so abruptly. Not in the sense that you didn’t see it coming, but rather in a way that one day you two were together and then the next day you weren’t.

Neither of you have done a great job with setting boundaries. He calls or visits at least once every other week since you broke up, usually just to talk, or share news, or even to fuck. And as much as you know it’s not good for either of you to continue with this “not so not together-ship”, it’s better than not having each other at all.

“God, this sucks,” you think out loud, body shifting to lean on your side. “This sucks so hard.” Mr. Snuffles stares blankly at you from across the bed— a weathered and patched stuffed rabbit given to you on your 11th birthday. Out of all the judgement you’ve faced from family and friends, his is the worst. He knows you better than anyone. Knows what you should do, when you should do it, and who you should do it with. He’s your voice of reason, and despite not having a mouth, he’s quite loud. And it seems with each missed opportunity to cut Katsuki completely out of your life, Mr. Snuffles’ judgment grows louder and louder. It’s the eyes honestly.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you croak, ashamed that a stuffed animal knows better than you. “I know what I'm doing.”

Three firm knocks reverberate throughout your apartment, and it’s like how a forest grows still in the presence of a predator. The ticking of your clock, the blades of your fan, even your own heartbeat grows quiet.

He’s here.

You’ve seen him a billion times and you’ll see him a billion times more maybe; there’s no need to feel anxious…maybe a little sad. Definitely super guilty. But also really happy? Because you love him and love being around him and love spending time with him. Why is this so fucking complicated? You thought love was supposed to heal all wounds…Or maybe that was time.

Just as his fist readies to bang on your door again, your pretty little head emerges from the other side, surveying his person with interest. His arm lowers, milkshakes in either hand, eyes lidded with tiredness. There are a few awkward moments of staring before he speaks, growing tired from holding the milkshakes (and the unbearable silence).

“You gonna let me in?”

His words seem to snap you from your stupor, a sheepish smile stretching your pretty lips: two-toned and lightly glazed with chapstick, top lip sculpted perfectly in Cupid’s image. He misses waking up to those messy love letters your lips spoke into his skin. He wants to kiss you right now. He thinks you would let him if he asked.

You step backwards and open the door to let him in. He walks in with confidence, like he’s been here a billion times before, and he has even since the break-up. He makes his way to your couch where he sits and sets your milkshake down on the coffee table.

“I got your favorite.”

Goddamn him. You can never reject an Oreo milkshake. It only takes a second for you to join him on the couch, an unorthodox amount of space between two people who are supposedly no longer in a relationship anymore—you could fit four maybe five fingers between that space? The close proximity is suffocating and desired all at once. He grabs your remote, turns the television on, then proceeds to lay his arm across the back of the couch directly behind your head. You both sip from your milkshakes for a while, idly watching the cartoon that flashes across the television screen, neither too bothered by the lack of conversation, or so it seems. It feels like how it used to… but not at the same time. You clear the phlegm from your throat that always accumulates when you nurse a milkshake, before turning to him and speaking.

“So what brings you here tonight?”

Obviously to fuck, or at least, that’s the conclusion you come to. It’s 2:30 in the morning, what other reason would he come?

He continues to face straight ahead, but his gaze shifts to his peripheral, noting the weary look on your face. He sits there for a bit, setting his milkshake down and letting the question smolder in the air. He’s grown a bit anxious from the question if the tapping near your head is any indication. Maybe a minute or three passes before he finally gives in, body sinking into the couch with a heavy sigh.

“Imischew,” he mumbles, body folding in to make himself small.

“You mis chewed?” You repeat confused. “Did an Oreo chunk go down the wrong pipe? Do you need some water?”

“No,” he groans, shifting uncomfortably. He follows up with the same undecipherable mumble, but it’s evident you’re not catching on, on account of the perplexed look on your face. “I don’t think I’m understanding, Suki.” Fuck, he loves it when you call him that.

He takes a deep breath to quell the feelings of frustration and anxiety bubbling in his chest. It’s not your fault, he thinks. He’s a mumbler and you’re borderline hard of hearing.

“I miss you,” he enunciates, finally working up the courage to look you straight in the eyes. He sighs dejectedly. “…I miss you.”

Oh...oh. Despite the time you’ve spent together since the break up, neither of you have uttered anything so… sentimental.

It’s silent again. Your lack of response is making him reeeeally fucking anxious.

Fuck, he thinks. This was a bad idea.

He suddenly shoots up, humiliated and ashamed.

“I’m sorry,” he grumbles, “I shouldn’t have come.”

He just about makes it past the couch before you quickly set your milkshake down and dive forward to clasp his wrist, body draped over the arm of the couch.

“No,” you yelp, frightened by his attempted departure. A stale silence follows your outburst. It seems to drag on for far longer than either of you anticipate, both bodies unmoving as if frozen in time. And then you finally speak, voice trembling and small. “Please… I miss you too.”

He turns towards you, the television light highlighting the bubbling in your eyes, reflecting the sullen visage of his own features. God, even when you’re crying you look like an angel.

“Come sit?” You request with a sad smile.

How could he ever say no to you?

He heaves a deep tired sigh and nods, maneuvering his body around the couch with your hand still tightly wrapped around his wrist.

There’s distance between you now; about as far as your arm can stretch, but you refuse to let him go (in every sense and meaning). It’s quiet again, and not the comfortable silence you found yourselves sitting in when things were fine between you both. It’s awkward and stifling.

He’s so tense. His leg is bouncing and his muscles are flexing. You're not doing much better. The grip you hold around his wrist is tight. You can feel his pulse racing in your fingertips. You take a deep breath and make an effort to release the tension from your body, hand reaching lower to caress his palm and intertwine your fingers together. He observes your hands noting how large his is compared to yours, the curves and valleys your fingers form, the heat that emits from your palms. It makes his belly flutter.

“Can I hug you, Suki?”

Of course you can. You are always welcome in his arms (except when you’re not).

He pulls you towards his chest and wraps himself around you, enveloping you in his furnacy hold. Your legs wrap around his hips and you tuck your face safely between his shoulder and his neck. This feels like home more than any house ever could. Maybe that’s why you two find yourselves together so often. You miss sharing a space together. You miss spending time together. You miss him. And even with him pressed firmly against your body, breathing life into your clumsy aching heart, do you even really have him? You’re not together anymore. And that makes you so sad.

His shoulder grows wetter by the second. With each sniffle and sob that greets his ears his heart clenches tighter and tighter. His precious angel, so soft and so sweet. How could anyone bear witness to such sorrowful cries? How had things ended so wrong?

“I miss you, Suki,” you whimper. “ I miss you so much.”

He attempts to blink away his own tears. The racking of your body vibrates him to his core. He pulls you closer, as if to mold your bodies into one. He wishes he could make things not hurt anymore.

“We can’t do this anymore, Suki. I-It hurts too much.”

“I know,” he whispers. “I’m sorry.” He shushes your sobs and cradles your head, rocking your bodies to the rhythm of an unsung lullaby. “It’ll be okay,” he chants, trying to convince himself of that as much as he’s trying to convince you.

You both rock for a while, tears slowly simmering, holds growing looser. You lift from his shoulder and just stare at his face. You failed to notice his own sniffles and chokes. His face is streaked with tears. It’s quiet for a moment, and then another, and another, before a wolfish grin adorns his face in an attempt to make this moment a bit lighthearted. You smile in return. He’s just as good at making you smile as he is at making you cry.

Giggling, you knock your foreheads together, and cradle the back of his head. His hands find solace at the small of your back, thumbs digging beneath your shirt and rubbing patterns into your skin. The angle is a bit awkward, but you both just stare into each other’s eyes, wondering what the other is thinking. If you both knew what the other was thinking, maybe you wouldn’t be in this mess to begin with. So many misunderstandings and unaddressed resentment. So many missed opportunities to make things better, and you both fell short on that end. So many things were just…unresolved and unspoken.

But despite all of that, one thing is clear…

“Can I kiss you?”

You still love each other.

He responds by cradling the back of your head and guiding your lips to his own. The kiss is closed and puckered, both sets of lips sitting on the other, unsure of how to proceed, but muscle memory takes over and you fall into a familiar routine, mouths opening and tongues tangling together.

God, he loves this so much: the texture of your lips, the taste of your mouth, the dexterity of your tongue—he dreams about this—about kissing you. It’s all he ever wants to do.

“F-fuck,” he moans, gravely voice resonating in the air. His hands travel back to your hips to encourage the steady grinding you’ve unconsciously started. The motion is smooth, like how a gentle ocean wave licks upon a shore. He follows your lead, grinding up to meet you halfway. The friction is perfect.

His eyes are glazed over and hooded in arousal, unwavering and unable to look away. Your eyebrows are knitted together, and your mouth is ajar and panting. Your head bobs back and forth, unable to hold steady from the pleasure building in your body. It’s mesmerizing.

“Fuck,” he whispers. “Rub that pussy on me, baby.”

Your stomach clenches. Despite his reserved disposition, he is a vocal person, especially when it counts.

“Suki,” you whimper, attempting to quell the fluttering of your eyes. You just want to look at his beautiful face, but you can’t, motor functions completely consumed by need.

“What is it, baby?” God, his voice is heaven.

“I wanna feel you.”

“You don’t feel me,” he goads, one hand coming to cradle your head as it bobs back. “You don’t feel how hard I am for you?” You clench again.

You do feel him, all seven and a half inches, hard and steely like an iron rod, nestled neatly between your soaked folds. Even through the layers of clothing that obstruct you from his skin, you can still feel him. “No,” you drawl. “I wanna feel you inside.”

“Yeah? You wanna feel me, baby?” He pulls your hips harder against his own, reveling in the wetness pooling over his shaft. “You wanna clench that wet pussy around my dick?” He pulls your head towards his face, swollen lips wisping across your own. “You wanna ride me and milk the cum from my balls?”

“Please,” you whimper, falling into his chest. “Please, please, please—”

At this rate you’re going to cum. Your clit is hard and pulsing, easily sliding across his shaft and pubic bone. With each roll of your hips, electricity shoots through every nerve ending in your body. You’ve soiled through your shorts and his sweats, sobbing the fabrics so thin you might as well be naked.

The hand at your hip sinks beneath your panties to grab a handful of your ass. He squeezes hard, unable to restrain the molten need surging through his veins.

“You’re close,” he states. He’s close too. His tip is leaking and sticky, balls drawn close to his body in preparation to release his load.

“No,” you shoot up and whimper. “Want you inside!” You’re nearly crying, and yet your hips make no effort to stop.

He shushes you and kisses your lips. You’re so cute when you get like this. The fingers gripping your ass travels further between your cheeks, pass your asshole, and down to your fluttering pussy. He gathers the wetness spilling from your hole, and lathers himself in your slick. He continues to pepper kisses on your lips and cheeks, heart and loins clenching from the desperation in your eyes.

After his fingers are completely soaked and pruned, he transfers your slick to your asshole. His fingers rub and prod at the puckered opening, his breath shuddering at the faraway look in your eyes. That’ll do it. That will definitely take you over the edge. Your hips frenzy and your holes pucker. His length twitches and bobs.

A deafening moment of silence, like how static builds in the air before lightning strikes, and then a wail, guttural and bone chilling. Your body convulses and twitches and seizes like you’re possessed. You see nothing but black. And he sees nothing but you. It’s almost spiritual how his body follows after you. Like a current travels through you body into his own, your pleasure igniting every nerve ending that lies dormant beneath his skin. The last image he sees before his eyes roll to the back of his head, is that of the only person in his life he wishes he worked a little bit harder to keep.

🎶Doofenshmirts Evil Incorporated🎶

Phineas and Ferb is on. All of a sudden, your surroundings are there. Beneath, behind you, and all around you. You feel sticky and gross, and can barely keep your eyes open for more than a second. Katsuki’s head is laid across the back of the couch, mouth open and muscles twitching involuntarily. You smile at how goofy he looks.

“Suki.” Your voice is barely above a whisper. He doesn’t respond. You try again, a little louder. “Suki.”

He manages a small hum.

“We should get up and shower.”

He doesn’t respond again for another minute or two , probably fighting off the sleep that comes with such an explosive orgasm.

“Okay.”

You follow his lead when he moves to get up, lifting off of him and waiting at his side for him to collect himself. You look up at him as he looks down at you and you give a small smile before leading him to the bathroom by his hand.

The shower feels nice. You take turns under the water and gently bathe each other of the sweat and cum you’ve collected. This moment feels nostalgic, like it’s a distant memory, and not playing out in real-time. It feels like how it used to be…when you two were together. Intimate. Warm. Fuzzy.

After a while you two just end up holding each other, soaking in the water and the love and comfort this moment offers you. It makes you want to cry how perfect this is.

After you’re clean and dry, you offer him some clothes he hadn’t bothered to take with him when you two broke up. You change in separate rooms.

After it’s all said and done, you escort him to the front door. He’s hurt that you’re kicking him out, but he thinks he understands. You both do a pissy job at setting boundaries, and this is your attempt at establishing one. He gets it.

You both stare at each other for a good long while. You fight the urge to drag him back to your bedroom, but you stand firm on your decision.

“I’ll call you,” he sighs. And he will. He always wants to talk to you.

You take a shuddering breath and nod, weakly smiling up at him.

“Okay.”

He wants to kiss you, but thinks maybe he shouldn’t. He nods, turns towards the door and leaves, shutting the door quietly behind him.

You’re rooted to your spot, soaking in the gravity of your situation.

You and Katsuki are not together anymore.

The light from your screen seems brighter than the sun. Your fingers move in trepidation, hovering and cycling over icons and back buttons, but you finally make it to the anticipated contact.

Suki ❤️❤️❤️

Send message…

Add to emergency contact…

Block this caller….

You take another deep breath. Mr. Snuffles is right.

DO NOT REPOST, MODIFY OR PLAGIARIZE MY CONTENT

DO NOT SHARE MY CONTENT ON TIK TOK

#bnha smut #mha smut #bakugo smut #bakugou smut #katsuki smut #bakugo katsuki smut #bakugou katsuki smut #angst #bakugo x reader smut #bakugou x reader smut #writing tag

[snelbz]

Life As We Know It {Chapter 9}

Summary: After the sudden deaths of Nesta’s sister and Cassian’s best friend, they gain guardianship of their nephew, Nyx.

Based on Life As We Know It (2010) and a prompt sent in by anonymous for our Nessian fanfic contest. This is a modern au.

Instead of doing a tag list for this story, we have decided to have a set posting schedule. Chapters will be posted weekly on Mondays and Thursdays. Chapters will be posted on both my and Shelby’s blogs! >> @snelbz​

Life As We Know It Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

A/N: SURPRISE. Enjoy this chapter a day early. I had my days wrong and legit thought it was Thursday, but since it was ready…. Y’all get to enjoy the spoils of my frazzled brain. 😘

Nesta waited with Nyx in the waiting room of the pediatric office.

His rash didn’t seem to be bothering him much, but she wanted to get ahead of it before it became a problem. He was absolutely enamored with the TV playing a bright children’s show in the corner, and Nesta couldn’t help but smile down at him as she checked her email.

The usual stuff greeted her, some open catering order invoices for the restaurant, a few wayward resumes from high school kids that had managed to get her personal email, and, of course, spam.

“Nyx?”

Nesta’s head shot up, and Nyx began looking around, wondering who had called his name. Nesta was instantly on her feet, pushing Nyx’s stroller toward the door that the nurse held open.

She smiled. “Hello, Nyx.”

Nyx babbled in greeting.

The nurse chuckled. “Such a cute little guy. You’re Nesta, I assume?”

“I am,” Nesta confirmed. “I’ve not been here before. It’s a nice office.”

The small talk went on. Nesta had never been a fan of small talk, of polite pleasantries.

It just made her feel awkward.

Nyx didn’t seem to mind. He just kept babbling and babbling and babbling, without a care in the world.

The nurse led them into a room and she checked Nyx’s height and weight before telling them that the doctor would be there shortly.

Nesta had picked Nyx up, looking around at all the educational posters on the walls, when a quick knock sounded on the door and a man cracked open the door.

Nesta blinked once as he stepped inside, not expecting the tall, muscled man that appeared in front of her.

“You must be Nesta,” he said, extending his hand. “I’m Dr. Kamaras.”

This man was Nyx’s pediatrician? She had known that Nyx’s doctor was male, Feyre had mentioned him in some stories a few times, but Nesta had always pictured an elderly man.

Not this sculpted, handsome man, who could easily graced the cover of one of the ridiculous smutty books she kept well hidden in her bedroom.

She shook his hand, finally remembering how to speak. “Yes, I am, it’s nice to meet you.”

Very nice to meet you, she added in her head.

His face sombered. “I was very sorry to hear about Rhys and Feyre. They were great people.”

And just like that, Nesta was back on earth, holding her sister’s son in her arms, standing where her sister should have been. She tried to keep her smiling from dimming, but she cleared her throat. “Thank you. It’s…been an adjustment.”

As if they both remembered why they were here, Dr. Karamas blinked and said, “Yes, Nyx, right. You told the nurse he has a rash of some sort?”

“It’s just a diaper rash but it seems to be getting infected,” Nesta explained. “I’ve tried a few different things but nothing seems to be working.”

“Ah,” he said, nodding. “Well, let’s take a look.”

Dr. Karamas took one glance and whistled. “Definitely infected. I’m going to give you a steroid cream. Put it on after every diaper change. It should clear up within the week.”

Nesta let loose a breath. “Oh, great, thank you.”

“Absolutely,” he smiled.

He had a nice smile.

He scribbled something down on his clipboard, signed it, and handed it to Nesta. “The number on the bottom is my office number. If you have any other concerns, no matter how small, give it a call.”

Nesta looked at Nyx’s prescription and the number that was beneath it, along with his name.

Balthazar Karamas.

“Thank you, Dr. Karamas,” Nesta said, and she meant it. She was still new at this, and every little medical thing concerned her.

If it wasn’t normal, she was freaking the fuck out.

“Bal, please,” he said, taking her hand again, shaking it. At the look on her face, he added, “I work with kids. They do better on a familiar name basis than with titles like doctor and mister.”

She nodded, smiling. “Bal, then.”

Nesta was getting Nyx resituated in his stroller in the waiting room, about to head back out into the bright sunlight, when she felt someone approach. She wasn’t expecting to find Balthazar standing a few feet away. She quickly checked the stroller, making sure she had her purse, the diaper bag, and, of course, Nyx himself. “Did I forget something?” She asked, finding everything exactly where it was supposed to be.

“No, no, it’s not that,” he said, pausing in front of her. “I just…can’t shake the feeling that I know you from somewhere.”

It was strange, since Nesta felt the same way.

“You’re not Illyrian,” he said, and it wasn’t a question, nor was it rude. Just an assumption. She only knew of a few other Illyrians in the area, and Balthazar definitely had the same coloring as Cassian and Az. And Rhys used to have. She, pale skinned and blue eyed, certainly did not.

“I’m not,” she said, at last.

Bal chuckled.

That smile, yet again, had her toes curling.

“Interesting,” he said, that smile remaining. “Well, maybe we can figure out just where we’ve run into each other before...over lunch this weekend?”

Nesta blinked. A date?

“Not a date,” he said, quickly, reading her mind. “I would never ask the aunt of my patient on a date. That would be incredibly unprofessional.” Nesta laughed. “Just…two acquaintances figuring out where they were previously acquainted.”

“Lunch sounds nice,” Nesta said, unable to shake her own smile. “Saturday, then?”

“Saturday,” Bal agreed.

They set up a time and place and then Nesta was out the door.

*

Cassian’s day had been as long as it was the day before. It seemed that the teenagers visiting Velaris had gotten the message from their friends that Cassian’s bar was checking every single ID of every single drink that was ordered. So instead of being slammed and busy and frustrated the whole day, he had been bored out of his mind.

He’d gone through his inventory sheets twice, ordering anything they might remotely run out of in the next few weeks.

It didn’t help that Kallias had the day off, covering the evening shift tonight, leaving him alone with his thoughts all day.

And those thoughts constantly reminded him that he’d been an absolute dick to Nesta the night before.

As he drove home, he contemplated the apology he needed to make.

Although Cassian believed his intentions were typically good, apologizing wasn’t one of his strengths. He ran through what he’d say a hundred times, had come up with an unbearable amount of ways in which he could apologize, but everything he thought of wasn’t good enough.

He knew Nesta well enough to know when she would laugh in his face.

He’d come up with about fifteen different scenarios of how this could go by the time he pulled into the driveway, parking next to her little car. He took a deep breath before unlocking the front door and letting himself in.

The house was quiet, neither Nesta or Nyx were anywhere to be found. It was barely six-thirty, but he knew Nesta was taking Nyx to the doctor earlier in the day, which may have tired him out so thoroughly that he was already down for the night. A peek into his cracked bedroom door confirmed it, his little hand curled next his face as he slept.

When he finally tracked down Nesta, on the back patio, her feet propped up in a lounge chair, he definitely hadn’t expected to find her with a bottle of wine. Or what was left of it, at least.

The mostly empty bottle of wine sat next to the baby monitor.

He cleared his throat, announcing his presence.

Nesta’s sigh was the only acknowledgement she showed.

“Everything alright?” He asked.

She shrugged and took a sip from her glass.

“Bad day?” He continued.

She shrugged again.

“Is this the silent treatment?” He asked.

“I assume you’d know,” she said.

Cassian began rubbing his temples. “Look, Nesta-.”

“I’m a little busy if you don’t mind,” she continued. “I prefer to relax alone.”

“This is my house, too,” he said, shutting the sliding door behind him as he made his way onto the patio. “What if I want to sit out here with you?”

“Then I’d suggest continuing the silence,” she said, not looking at him, her face tilting back up to the sky, where it had been when he’d come outside.

So he sat down on a nearby lounge chair, and didn’t say a word.

Or he tried, but he didn’t last five minutes. The words that had building inside him all day needed to come out. He’d rehearsed different things he wanted to say, with reasons for why he was such an asshole, and promises to try and be better from now on. But as he looked over at her, the starlight on her face, all he could get out was, “I’m sorry.”

For a moment, Nesta said nothing. “About?”

“The way I acted last night,” he replied, keeping his eyes on the lawn. “It was uncalled for, and I’m sorry.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said, draining her glass.

Cassian’s eyes shot her direction. “I’m trying to apologize. You can at least accept my apology so we can move on.”

“Apologies mean nothing,” Nesta said, shrugging. “Words are meaningless.”

“Not mine,” Cassian argued. “I mean what I say.”

“Then you meant what you said last night?” Nesta pushed.

Cassian’s lips snapped shut and his jaw hardened. “No.”

“So, you’re a liar, then?” Nesta asked.

He groaned in frustration. “You’re infuriating.”

She didn’t deign to reply to that.

He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry I was an asshole last night. I was…embarrassed about how you found me the night before. I don’t… I don’t like to be seen like that.” He paused, but then he held a hand out in between them. “Not- not that that happens often. I mean, I don’t make a habit of having emotional breakdowns.”

She didn’t say anything. Just stared at him.

He cleared his throat again, remembering little things he had felt badly about through the day. “Nesta, I’m sorry I acted like an ass. I’m sorry I didn’t appreciate the dinner you made me. I was rude as hell and you did nothing to deserve it.”

After a second, she glanced away, out over the pool. He figured she wasn’t going to reply, and he stood, heading back for the back door.

He had slid the door open and was halfway inside when she said, “If you’re hungry, I made lasagna for dinner. It should still be warm on the stove.”

He turned back and found a hint of a smile on her face. “Thanks, Nes.”

*

A continuation of his apology, Cassian had told Nesta he'd be on baby duty for the rest of the night, waking Nyx up for his bottle, granting her leave to do whatever she wanted. She elected to finish off the bottle of wine, open another, and relax in the bathtub with a book.

The book of choice was definitely not appropriate to read in front of Nyx.

Or Cassian, for that matter.

She had appreciated his apology, even though a part of her still wanted to be pissed. There were very few things that agitated her more than male bravado, and Cassian was the spitting image of it. Embarrassed because he was emotional? Please. Get the fuck over it.

Then again, she could say that all day, but in honesty, if the positions were reversed, she would have reacted very, very similarly.

If not worse.

Nesta had always felt too much, far more than either of her sisters. It wasn’t like they were robots, of course. Elain had a bigger heart than anyone Nesta had ever known, and Feyre had been a light to be around.

But, Nesta…

She felt it all, and she felt it far too deeply. She had learned long ago to shut those emotions off, to let them go, to not let her emotions show. They could just be used as a weakness.

And she found life worked better that way.

There was a soft knock on the bathroom door.

Nesta sat up straight, even though the door was locked, in a sudden panic over the fact that she was nude and reading smut.

“Yeah?”

“Nyx is going to bed,” he said. “Just thought you’d want to say goodnight.”

“I- Ah- Just a minute,” she called, setting the book down and reaching down to grab for her towel. She was out and damn near opened the door in just her towel again, but remembered their agreed upon rules. She snatched her robe, wrapping it around herself, towel and all.

She opened the door, Cassian standing just by her bed, and Nyx had his head resting on his shoulder, rubbing his little eyes.

The image was so pure and innocent that Nesta couldn’t stop herself from taking a few steps towards them, reaching out to brush her fingers down Nyx’s soft cheek. “Sweet dreams, buddy,” she breathed, leaning up to press a kiss to his forehead.

She regretted it almost immediately, as bringing herself that close in Nyx also inadvertently brought her to Cassian. His heady, nutmeg-and-campfire scent enveloping her, reminding her of the morning she’d come downstairs and found him as naked as she was now. She stepped back quickly, clearing her throat. “And goodnight to you, Cassian,” she murmured. She pointed back behind her towards the bathtub, towards her book, and said, “I’m going to read a little longer and then go to bed myself.”

He nodded. “Alright, I’ll see you in the morning. Goodnight, Nes.”

The nickname didn’t bother her as much as it previously had, she realized as he made his way back out of her room, shutting the door behind him.

She didn’t let herself think about that, did her best not to think about him, as she sunk back into the warm water.

*

Nyx had gone down easily for Cassian, for the first time ever, thanks to the frozen toy he’d gnawed on to relieve the pain of his incoming tooth. He’d decided he deserved a treat, too, after that, and had sat down to watch the hockey game, a beer in hand.

Fifteen minutes later, there was a knock at the front door.

Cassian paused, glancing down at his watch, seeing that it was pushing nine o’clock. He stood, after a second knock sounded, making his way to the door. He opened it to find a woman dressed in a suit on the other side. “Can I help you?”

“Mr. Nazari, I assume?” She asked, extending her hand.

He took it, on instinct, shaking it, but he blinked. He repeated, “Yeah… Can I help you?”

Her brows twitched together. “My name is Alis Birch. I’m with social services.”

Cassian continued to shake her hand, staring.

“The courts told you we’d be making random visits to check in on Nyx,” she continued.

Oh, fuck, Cassian thought. Oh, fucking hell.

They’d completely forgotten about those random visits, in the past few weeks they’d been doing this, distracted by getting used to not only being parents, but getting used to each other as well.

“I see,” Cassian said, nodding. “I… I’ll…be right back.”

“I’d like to come in-.”

Cassian shut the door, quickly set his beer on the table in the entryway, and hauled ass upstairs.

He threw open the door to Nesta’s bedroom, only to found it empty, so he continued on, throwing open the bathroom door.

Where Nesta was still in the tub, completely nude, a book in hand, one hand disappeared beneath the water. Her head was thrown back in utter ecstasy.

Until Cassian barged in, anyway.

“Shit!” he yelled, just as Nesta gasped and sent the water sloshing out of the tub, over the porcelain edges.

Cassian quickly shut the door behind him, closing them into the bathroom together, and put his face in his hands. “Sorry!”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” she yelled, and he could hear her pulling the plug.

“It’s important, I swear,” he said, his voice muffled by his hands.

“If the house isn’t on fire or Nyx isn’t dying, it’s not important,” she cried, ducking behind the walls of the tub.

“It’s pretty fucking important,” he said, turning to give her a semblance of privacy. He heard her stand up, water moving and quiet dripping, before her feet landed on the rug outside the tub. “The social worker is here.”

She froze and he dared a look back at her. Thankfully, she was wrapped in her towel again, one arm pushed through her robe. “The social worker is here? Now?” He nodded, and she looked at the nearly empty bottle of wine next to the glass on the small table by the tub. It was the second one she’d had that night. “But it’s late,” she protested.

“It’s a random, surprise visit,” he replied. “I left her outside, but-.”

“You didn’t let her in?” Nesta demanded, eyes widening. “Cauldron, Cass, that makes us look so guilty.”

He blinked. “Of what?”

“I don’t know,” she said, throwing her hands in the air. “But it doesn’t make us look good.”

“Well, I didn’t know what to do,” he sighed, exasperatedly. “I sure as hell wasn’t expecting to come up here and find you doing that.” He gestured to the tub.

Nesta’s cheeks heated. He figured his own were going to permanently be the shade of red they were now.

No, that was the last thing he ever expected to catch Nesta doing.

“Just… Go let her in and stall her while I get dressed,” she sighed, crossing her arms, waiting for him to leave.

Cassian hesitated, then nodded, and hurried back down the stairs. When he reopened the front door, Alis Birch stood there. Her expression was hard, intimidating.

Cassian could feel himself sweat.

He prayed that Nesta somehow sobered up and got the fuck downstairs, because there was no way in hell he could do this without her.

#snacmc lawki #life as we know it #nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #snelbz tacmc collab #snacmc

[zapsalis-d]

Piece of You

summary — Everyone wants a piece of you. Even a certain Mandalorian who denies that he's grown enamored with every little thing about you.

content — Implied smut, harassment, jealousy, alcohol, pining

word count — 4.5k

inspiration — Piece of You, Shawn Mendes

main masterlist

He's not one who's fond of Tatooine.

Everything about that filthy, crime-ridden dust-ball is enough to entirely repel him from the planet. Yet there's something — someone — who lures him into Tatooine, even when his presence isn't necessary. He repeatedly scolds himself each time he passes by the familiar dusty planet — there is no point in landing, no purpose to be there. He never listens. Not at all.

The Mandalorian is constantly preoccupied with his devotion to bounty hunting. But each time, it's as if he entirely clears anything on his plate. A pending bounty puck? He can handle that later. Quarry needs to be delivered? Not a problem, he has a carbon-freezing chamber installed in the ship. Damaged ship? Well, there are plenty of repairmen on Tatooine.

His sole desire is to visit nobody other than you. The bartender working in one of the most famous cantinas in Mos Eisley. The cantina's owner recognized precisely what he was doing when he hired you. You... you are exceptionally captivating, stunning, seductive. Your snarky personality, flawless body, and heavenly face is enough to entice every man in the parsec who'd heard of you. In fact, one of the main reasons the cantina is so damn popular is due to your employment.

Everybody wants a piece of you...

So as Din positions the Razor Crest onto the landing bay's flooring, he prepares himself to be utterly disappointed. With the plethora of men drooling over you each second of your life, you certainly have plenty to choose from. Out of all of them, you aren’t going to select a Mandalorian who refuses to reveal his face to absolutely anyone. Yet he pushes the thought aside. The purpose of his return is due to his recent hunt. The quarry was pestering, exceedingly difficult to locate and seize. Once Din managed to capture and deliver him, he immediately knew he required a brief break. A chance to unwind, ease up, relax. The sight of you is enough to de-stress him.

Maybe you'd even swiftly speak with him for a moment. Each time he arrives at the cantina, you eventually stop by besides him, hold a quick conversation before promptly returning to your work. Din has no clue why. Plenty of other men practically beg for your attention. Yet you don't spare a mere glance towards their direction, unless deemed necessary.

Din descends the ladder towards the hull of the ship, commanding the ramp to lower utilizing his beskar vambrace. Without hesitation, he strides off the ramp, sealing it shut directly after he steps off. He shares a hasty glimpse around the hangar. The manager is nowhere to be found. It doesn’t matter — his ship isn't damaged, there is no need to discuss payment with them. Without further delay, he exits the hangar and treads through the desolate streets of Mos Eisley. It's unbearably hot, even with the twin suns setting down on the horizon. Colorful hues of red, yellow, purple, and blue lace the sky as he proceeds through the countless buildings and homes.

The well-known cantina appears in the distance. A flutter develops in the pit of his stomach at the bare thought of seeing you once more, especially after the additionally burdensome hunt he endured. He hasn't the slightest idea of what he'll do, or even say, when he enters. He's able to converse with you perfectly fine, as long as you initiate the chatting. The thought of walking up to you and establishing the conversation first is... unnerving. Hell, he can hardly flirt for the sake of his own life. You're not interested in the Mandalorian. You can't be. So, why should he even attempt to speak with you when you will simply push him aside, reject him? No, he prefers to keep his distance. Observe from afar. If your desire is to talk, he'll talk with pleasure. Call him a coward, but he isn't going to take his chances.

The Mandalorian saunters through the wide-open doors, gloved hand instinctively shifting towards the holster strapped to his hip. Even through the helmet covering his face, he catches a repulsing whiff of the strong alcoholic scent. His visor scans the cantina for a brief moment. It's surprisingly empty. Tables consist of a few people chattering mutely among each other, a couple waiters grabbing their orders. The ambience is strangely hushed. The bar is completely unoccupied, much to his surprise. A service droid is present where you ordinarily are, wiping a damp cloth over the counter. You, though, are nowhere to be found.

Eyes carefully survey him as he idly stands in front of the entrance. A Mandalorian equipped with a full attire of beskar armor, a pulse rifle strapped firmly against his back, and armed with various weapons is bound to snatch everyone's attention. Not wanting to deal with any issues as the moment, he continues to step forward. Despite his intense detestation for droids, this one in particular can prove useful. The droid raises its mechanical head, unreadable eyes staring straight towards the Mandalorian as he leans forward, elbows propping against the bar.

"The girl is absent today," its blank voice states, head tilting down as it resumes its cleaning. "Her shift has ended earlier today, per her request."

He's left speechless for a split second. Damn droid has practically read his mind. Does he actually make it so evident? Perhaps its simply that its already encountered countless men asking for you already. Nevertheless, a heat creeps onto his cheeks, radiating through his entire face and neck upon the droid's accusation. Steadily, he shifts his weight before answering. "What makes you think I'm here for her?"

His voice comprises a certain hostility, primarily due to the fact that he's conversing with — of all things — a droid. Its gaze lifts upon hearing his response, metal hand halting its insistent rubbing. "A great deal of men have requested her presence here today. I apologize. Would you care for a drink?"

"No," he swiftly replies. Then, he freezes, shoulders tensing up. If he's not here for you, then what's his purpose here? The droid bluntly stares, expecting further elaboration. Din provides him with nothing other than a view of his backside when he spins around, cape swishing with every motion as he strides away. He's on the verge of step outside when the mechanical voice calls for him.

"The girl will return tomorrow afternoon."

Din peers over the pauldron adorning his shoulder, sharing a brief glimpse with the droid. He should thank it, but decides against it. Its just a droid. It doesn't deserve his gratitude, nor an apology for his bitterness. Without lingering any further, he directs his gaze forward once more, before begrudgingly stalking off towards the course leading to the Razor Crest.

A darkness envelops him as soon as he steps into the plain open air. The suns had descended quite rapidly, a starless night sky hanging over the city. It's substantially cooler now that the suns aren't blazing down on him, a brisk breeze sweeping his cape sideways. The streets are increasingly barren now, not a single being in sight.

Except for one isolated person.

He recognizes the figure — the exquisite curves of her body, impeccable hair enhancing her features, the way she stands with utter confidence and assertiveness. All he manages to perceive was her back, but it's unquestionably the person he's been searching for. You.

You reside directly in front of a residence, gaze impatiently darting around as if awaiting someone's arrival. Din had assured himself he wouldn't initiate a conversation with you, though currently it seems as if that is his only option. Either that, or he disappointedly heads back towards his ship. But what the hell is he supposed to say? A simple "hey" wouldn't captivate your attentiveness. You'll simply shove him aside, completely uninterested as you've done an unmeasurable amount of times. He takes a step forward — tentatively, slowly, steadily. He's nervous. He can't deny that. Speaking to you seems to frighten him immensely, not even the most intimidating of quarries has managed to inflict this feelings upon him.

It's not that he's enamored by you. He does not have the time for romance. It's straightforward attraction. Infatuation. A meaningless crush, as some would claim. He is aroused by you. That's all it is, and all it will ever be. At least, that's what he's been attempting to convince himself about for the past months.

His thoughts are interrupted when someone enters the scenario. A man. Your face brightens upon catching sight of him as you beam at him. That damn smile. The way your lips curl upwards, flashing those set of pearly whites — it enthralled him since day one. His attention switches to the unfamiliar man as you throw your arms around him, his own hands embracing you and pulling you near. Seconds later, the two of you head inside the house you stand by. He's joking about something Din is unable to pick out, causing a burst of laughter to escape your lips. The sound is interfere with when the door slams closed behind you. Then, there's complete silence.

Boyfriend. That's his final conclusion. You'd requested time off your job to see your lover. It makes absolute sense. With the incalculable quantity of men constantly chasing you around, you're bound to find someone who interests you. Without another alternative to his situation, Din settled to leave. He's discouraged, yes, but what else would he expect? It's absolutely fine, though. This provides him with yet another reason why he should maintain his distance from the planet. Unless proven necessary, he won't return to Tatooine. There is no purpose for him here. His fantasies need to cease, stop raiding his brain and controlling his every action. He cannot spare anymore time indulging in this. It's for the best.

___

He arrives once more at the damn cantina the following afternoon.

He doesn't understand why he can't liberate himself from this addiction, why his thoughts are persistently flooded by images of you, and you only.

Baby, I'm so into you, it hurts...

Despite the setback yesterday, he feels like he's under obligation to drop by and see you before he departs from Tatooine. It's plain and simple — this is his final opportunity to visit you, and he'll seize onto that freedom while he's capable of doing so.  Even if it means he's wasting valuable time while he could be earning his well-deserved credits. Even if the hangar's manager warned that the landing bay is available exclusively for one entire rotation. It's one straightforward, uncomplicated visit, and then he'll leave satisfied.

The ambience is noisier then the previous occasion. This time, when he pauses to examine his surroundings, nobody pays him even the slightest bit of recognition. Boisterous laughter and obnoxious jabbering, alcoholic scent overwhelming his senses again, and then there's you. Preoccupied with your work, you don't spare him a single glance when he enters. Your attention is thoroughly concentrated on serving the numerous people awaiting their drinks at the bar. There are no accessible seats where you're present — it's utterly packed. It's alright, though, because he's not planning on grabbing a drink anyway. He settles for an available booth in the corner of the cantina, solitarily taking a seat away from the detestable, clamorous commotion. He has no clue how you deal with them until the late hours of the night.

Din merely dismisses the waiter who instantly greets him. He's not here for drinks, or a meal. He's only present for you, but not in the way these men are here for. Their sole purpose is attempting (and downright failing) to sneak into your pants, somehow. While he would be uttery lying to everyone — including himself — if he claims that's not one of his many desires, its not why he's here. He completely respects you. He will never treat you like everyone else does. That's not what you deserve at all, yet these men can't seem to comprehend that. They're selfish, purely caring for their own needs and wants. Not Din. He promised himself he wouldn't be as thoughtless and uncaring as them.

He manages a brief glance towards your direction. You're dressed in your usual attire — close-fitting shirt displaying a great deal of your breasts, skintight skirt barely reaching above your knees, a knife strapped strictly against your thigh to ward off anybody who might be in too close proximity.

You're majestic, mesmerizing, light the room up without trying...

Whether you're enforced to clothe yourself like that or you knowingly chose to do so, he isn't exactly certain. But with the way your face contorts in exasperation, you're definitely not enjoying this. You never did. To remain in an occupation like this, wearing that, required a plethora of fearlessness and aggressiveness. And your wages? They must be damn high. Din admires you for that. He wishes he could do something about it, ward off every single one of those pestering men who displease you but he recognizes your capability. You have demonstrated countless times in the past that you can handle yourself exceedingly well.

His gaze lingers for one second too long. Your eyes connect with his black visor. He freezes. He's been caught staring. For once, he isn't sure what his succeeding actions should be. The beskar helm covering his own face is greatly appreciated in this very moment, because his cheeks are undoubtedly tinted in a thousand shades of pink and red. He wants to avert his gaping, but he discovers its impossible for him. His eyes are practically glued to yours, and for once you notice a certain eagerness in your expression. As if you're actually... contented to spot him between the crowd of men surrounding you.

Right. Like that'll ever happen.

He can't dwell on that — give himself that false hope. Out of everyone in the cantina, you're pleased to see him? That's not exactly feasible.

Your heedfulness is abruptly snatched when a customer purposely drops an object — Din can't pick out what, exactly. His intentions were evident. He's trying to obtain a better view of your rear end, yet you don't give a damn. Din can't quite hear what you're divulging with all the cacophonous noise, though your facial expression provides him with enough. A menacing glare is directed straight towards the man, your mouth spitting out offenses and insults. You've clearly had enough with their crap. There's nothing more Din longs for than to withdraw you from that burdensome situation, lead you to the quietness and tranquility of the Razor Crest. The audacity these men have creates a rage welling up within his chest, blood in his veins boiling. The fact that he can't take action leaves him feeling helpless. You evidently don't want his assistance. You can deal with them yourself — it's what you want.

The Mandalorian finds himself remaining in the cantina for hours. The place gradually empties, though not entirely. There's considerably less racket now. You seem to slowly relax, the tension in your shoulders fading away. Din rarely attempts to peek towards your direction again — not after what previously occurred. He's still rather humiliated about it. His finger lightly drums against the table, a faint tapping sound solely audible to his ears. He's not quite certain why he's residing here for a prolonged amount of time if you're undeniably occupied with your job. Yet—

"Drink?"

The familiar voice steals his attention, a glass filled to the brim with an unknown alcoholic drink slides directly into the hand placed over the table. He catches it and clasps onto it tautly with his fingers, visor lifting upwards precisely when a woman occupies her seat on the booth across from him. You.

Admittedly, he's staggered by your unexpected appearance. While you've spoken with him before, he didn't expect that to occur today, especially with the exceptionally packed cantina. He's utterly speechless, any sort of coherent sentence completely disappearing from his mind. His mouth opens, then shuts repeatedly when he fails to voice an individual word. His throat feels inexplicably dry all of a sudden, his immediate reaction being to take a swig from the glass in his grasp but he's unable to with the helmet preventing it. In this moment, he'd do anything to  rid himself of this impenetrable apprehensiveness, anything to ease himself. He can't bring himself go verbalize a single phrase, not even a mere 'thank you.'

"I noticed you didn't order anything for yourself," you state when he doesn’t answer. His flustered condition worsens upon realizing this whole time, you had observed him from the distance as well. Your eyes swiftly dart around the cantina for a split moment, before returning to peer directly into his visor. Then, your gaze averts once more. "Go ahead. There's nobody looking."

For a second, he can't comprehend your suggestion. Until he realizes you're proposing he takes a quick drink from the glass. He glances down towards the object in his hand, practically overflowing with a bright purple-colored liquid. Its iciness bleeds through the leather of his glove. It's been a while since he's enjoyed a nice drink. He can't refuse. Without further contemplation, his free hand raises towards the lip of his helmet, gradually tilting the beskar backwards until his chin and mouth were revealed. He's a bit skittish, unknowing whether you'll abruptly turn your head to face him while he's vulnerable like this. Which is why he speedily chugs it down.

Bad idea. The liquid instantaneously burns his throat, clearing the dryness and replacing it with prickling heat. He drops the helmet down to conceal the exposed half of his face, half-empty glass placed onto the table as he nearly fails to contain himself from throwing a coughing fit. His abrupt discomfort caused your gaze to snap towards him again. At least now he manages to speak. "That's—" he pauses, the strain in his voice leading him to clear his throat. "That's very... strong."

You beam at him, chuckling emanating from you. He can't help but gawk at you, your perfect smile, contagious laughter, alluring features. Occasionally, he wonders how it would feel to kiss those soft, red-tinted lips, caress the curve of your jawline with his thumb, rake his fingers through your silky strands of hair. Those fantasies need to be completely erased from his mind, because they're never going to occur. His longing thought are quickly interrupted when you speak up. "Has a nice taste though, right?"

Din shrugs his shoulders. His breath is still unbearably hot from the drink. Perhaps he should've tested it out before hastily swallowing a substantial quantity of the liquid. "It's an... interesting flavor." He merely watches when you grab the glass, gulping down the remains of the drink without cringing upon the powerful aftertaste. "How much?"

Your gaze meet with him once more. The heavy black eyeliner bordering your eyes only enhance those captivating hues even more, feeling as if they pierce directly through the impenetrable beskar helm obscuring his face. "Payment? Credits aren't necessary today, Mandalorian. I believe tonight has brought me enough to sustain myself with. But there is one thing I'm interested in—" you pause before leaning forward, elbows propping against the table. It provides Din with a superior perspective of your chest, though he couldn't bring himself to glance down. He will not dare disrespect you in such ways. You have his total, undivided attentiveness now, ears ready to listen in for whatever you have to offer. "—your name."

His name. The Mandalorian normally wouldn't provide random people with the knowledge of his name. The thing is — you're not a simple 'random person.'

"Din. Din Djarin."

"Din... Djarin," you repeat, the phrase exquisitely rolling off your tongue. "Well, Din Djarin, I've gotta say... you're an intriguing man."

"How so?" a certain curiosity tinges his tone, audible even through the vocodor distorting his voice.

With a nonchalant shrug, you continue. "You're not here for the same reasons these men are. I mean, you're here for me, I know that. But when you visit, you do so in a considerate manner. Not as intrusive and harassing as most are." Your lips curve upwards in a small grin, head tilting with a certain gratefulness dominating your expression. "I like that."

The final sentence causes his breath to hitch in his throat. "You do?"

You bob your head in affirmation. A split second of somewhat comfortable silence passes, your gazes persisting trained solely on each other. Then, "I saw you last night, outside my house."

Damn. "I was on my way back to my ship. Managed to stumble across you."

Your brows raise with inquisitiveness. "You saw me? Why didn't you at least wave?"

"I was... in a rush."

"Understandable," you answer with a curt nod. You release a puff of breath before your eyes flash with visible seductiveness, causing Din to anticipate your next words. "Your armor's worn-out. Even more damaged than the last time I saw you. Rough hunt?"

His helmet tips down towards the beskar cuirass plating his chest. Countless dents and scratches ruin the brownish-red paint of the indestructible metal. Its covered in grime and dust, as is the rest of his armor, plenty more damaged than the previous occasion Din decided to land on Tatooine. The sudden realization that he should've at least scrubbed the soot off before venturing out here hits him, a slight embarrassment overwhelming him. "Yeah... armor's seen better days."

"Well, my shift's over. Droid's taken control now," you gesture with your head towards the service droid serving multiple people at the bar. A confident smirk makes its appearance across your expression before your hand slides towards his own, still placed over the table. Despite the leather preventing genuine contact, your touch is welcome and pleasant. "Maybe I can pass by your ship — the Razor Crest, is it? I could help out, polish your armor, perhaps?"

The offer is nearly irrefutable. Yet there's one minor setback that creeps into his mind.

"I-I don't think your... boyfriend will appreciate that."

Confusion etches your features as you slip your fingers away. "Boyfriend? I— oh, no. That guy yesterday? My cousin. Took time off last night so I could see him. He just landed here to quickly visit me before returning to his work earlier today."

Realization strikes him straight in the gut. His mouth opens to spit out an apology, before swiftly shutting it when a string of curses escapes your mouth, head ducking down upon spotting something, or someone. "What?"

You peer over Din's shoulders before dipping down again, hand on your forehead to obscure your face. "I may have promised someone a date," your voice is hushed even despite the noise resounding through the cantina. "I originally wasn't going accept. But he's so damn persistent. So, I told him to come here after I finished my shift, that way I'd be gone and I wouldn't have to deal with him. But he's here now, earlier than I expected."

The Mandalorian's helmet whirls around towards the wide-open entrance. A Zabrak lingers by the doors, eyes examining the cantina in a careful manner, searching for none other than you, before he steps towards the usual bar. Din turns to face you again, thumb discreetly pointing towards the beige-colored Zabrak male. "Him?"

You nod, further unease notable in your body language. Without uttering a single word, you abruptly lift yourself from your seat, heading directly towards the exit.

Not even a goodbye.

Should've taken the damn offer. Would that have been so hard?

"Oh, look! She's right over there by the doors."

A mechanical voice alerts the Zabrak of your presence, before he whips around and calls your name upon spotting your form. Kriffin' droid. You freeze precisely before managing to step one foot outside the building. Your shoulders visibly tense, though you stand firmly, back facing the Zabrak as he stalks towards you. His sizable hand clutches onto your arm, forcing you around. An unfamiliar, strange feeling sneaks into Din's mind upon watching his harsh manners, dominating his every action and movements.

I get jealous, but who wouldn't when you look like you do?

"Forget my—"

The Zabrak's deep voice is interrupted when you yank your arm away from his grasp, pacing forward in a menacing demeanor. "As a matter of fact, I didn't forget," you cross your arms over your chest, eyes practically boring holes into that horned head of his. "I don't need to go on a damn date with you if I don't want it. And right now—"you tilt your head, a poised smirk appearing on your red lips. "—I simply don't want to." With that, you spin around without offering another word.

You're so sure it makes me insecure...

The Zabrak can't seem to take a hint before he begins to swiftly pursue you. Din is unable to perceive anything else when the both of you exit the cantina. He can't wait anymore, sit around and watch. Sure, you can deal with the situation perfectly fine, as you'd done countless times in the past. But for once, Din urges himself to help. An impulse to protect you. His hand shifts towards his holster by pure instinct as he saunters through the exit, only for him to freeze in his spot. You're menacingly holding a sharp blade against the Zabrak's exposed neck, before he abruptly staggers backwards, holding his hands up in a surrendering manner.

You chuckle, before your eyes land on the Mandalorian lingering around, a certain glimmer present in your eyes. "Besides—" you're directing your words towards the Zabrak while stepping towards Din. "I've other plans tonight."

Your gentle hands grip onto Din's bicep, lightly tugging him forward and beckoning him to follow. Your touch causes an unfamiliar heat to erupt throughout his entire body, predominating his emotions. It's not due to the humidity of the planet, no... it's just... it's you. You're causing all this and he can't control himself no matter how much effort he put into it.

Just one touch is so electric...

He goes along with your suggestion, no hesitation whatsoever as you step away from the grumbling Zabrak. He recognizes he shouldn't mess with a Mandalorian, especially if the urge to protect the person he's constantly thinking about is present.

When he tips his head down to glance towards your direction, your lips are curled upwards into a smirk. Not the one you held while attempting to rid of the irritating Zabrak. There is a certain mischief written all over your features.

"Your ship?"

Oh, what the hell.

How could he resist a piece of you?

#let me tell you something #he may be completely clueless when it comes to flirting #and all that kind of stuff #but din djarin knows how to treat a woman #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #star wars #din djarin imagines #star wars x reader #din djarin x reader imagines #brown eyes #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader

[whythinktoomuch]

(pt. i)  (pt. ii) 

She keeps to the darkness, keeps quiet, and keeps her distance, just the way she’s been trained to. She watches Lena, and she does it quite well. The difficult part is settling on the one thing that she should be learning from these endeavors.

Lena does a great many things throughout her day—often up before the sun, and only homeward bound long after it’s set. But after three long days of research, there’s one feature in particular that seems to warrant the most attention: a dark fleck, nestled in the pale expanse of her vulnerable throat.

When she tries to encapsulate the entirety of that observation into words at her disposal, however, all she can manage is, “Lena, not ugly.”

Lex doesn’t reply for a long while, which isn’t typical of him. But his tone isn’t unkind when he finally asks, “Is that it?”

“Yes.” She frowns, because why couldn’t that be it?

But Lex sighs, and that soft sound uproots her peace at its very core. “I wanted you to bring me a fact,” he says. “Not develop an opinion.”

“Different how?” she demands.

“Well, I need evidence.” Lex takes her hand, turning it over to reveal her palm, forever marked and marred from her most recent encounter with Kryptonite. “I need you to show me something. Something real. Otherwise, it doesn’t count. Do you understand?”

And yes, that much is definitely understandable. Even to her.

//

With much repurposed effort, she watches and waits while Lena does her work. Then she watches Lena take her leave, then waits some more.

It’s only when the top floor of the building is emptied of all people that she flies over, slipping into Lena’s office through the balcony door that’s never locked. From there, it doesn’t take long to secure what she’s looking for.

The next time Lex pays her a visit, she drops an armful of her spoils right at his feet.

“Lena likes coffee,” she announces boldly.

Lex is clearly taken aback at first, blinking and still. But then he grabs one of the many empty coffee cups now littered across the floor, and a slow smile dawns on his face. “All right then. Now we’re getting somewhere.”

She grins so wide that it strains the corners of her lips.

--

“Lena is cold,” she says the next time they meet, presenting a delicate black glove for his amusement and perusal.

“Yes, well, most people are when it snows,” Lex says.

“Not me.”

“Well, you’re not exactly most people now, are you?” Lex’s pride in her is absolutely infectious, so she grins. “Of course not. You’re… exquisite.”

“Good thing?” she asks. It’s usually the first question that wells up inside of her upon hearing new words.

“A very good thing,” Lex says with a playful wink.

Over the last two weeks, Lex’s visits have dropped from often to somewhat often enough, his precious attention now divided between her and another project of his. It’s been a near impossible change for her to weather, but moments like this make it a little easier.

That is, until Lex slips the glove on.  

She watches him flex his fingers one by one, forcing the taut leather to crackle loudly in her ears, and retreats somewhere deep inside herself. She fights determinedly against the frown threatening to twist her features into something uglier.

The glove isn’t hers. It isn’t Lex’s either, but his hand fits so perfectly that it could very well be his if he wanted.

“Not actually all that warm,” Lex comments, snorting when he peeks inside the glove. “And yet, pricier than your average first class ticket to Paris… Tsk, a little superficial, if you ask me.”

She nods as appropriate, but most of her concern is still with the glove and how Lex stuffs it into his back pocket like it doesn’t mean a thing.

//

“Yes, her hair is indeed very long,” Lex says, accepting the offering of Lena’s hairbrush, complete with stray strands of dark hair still caught in its teeth as ample proof for this careful observation. “This, Bizarrogirl, is absolutely perfect.”

And it is. Because this isn’t just a handful of coffee cups tossed in the trash or a lone glove left behind in the snow during a hasty commute. No, this is something she actually had to break into Lena’s apartment for, in the middle of a workday, undetected even in broad daylight.

But even all that and more couldn’t outweigh the very simple fact that Lex has the means to kill her now.

Evidently, a big part of his new project has been synthesizing a strain of Kryptonite that would only be lethal to her, and he must have succeeded because today, he’s armed with blue-tipped syringes that can pierce her skin.

It’s for research purposes. It’s the only way that Lex can collect blood samples so as to better study her molecular makeup, which will only help her in the long run. Lex, of course, would never hurt her.

Except it does hurt. Each needle sinks into her arm in an acute twinge, and she can feel the aftereffects of the breach crawling inside her head. It’s worse than the green light. It makes her stomach dry out like a rock, and tugs cool drops of sweat onto the surface of her skin.

But Lex must notice this sudden unrest living inside her because he lets her keep the hairbrush.

“Mine?” she asks, cradling the brush in her hands. It’s been relieved of all traces of Lena, but that doesn’t matter. She’s seen Lena use it enough times that it’s still rightly precious.

“No, it’s still Lena’s,” Lex corrects her with a gentle smile. “But you can keep it,” which is the best possible answer he could have given her.

//

She’s watching Lena unwind at home from her favorite spot in the sky, drawing from her x-ray vision and super-hearing with an ease that is now very practiced.

Everything is pleasantly routine until Kara knocks on Lena’s door, which is still very routine until they start raising their voices at each other. They exchange some words that she doesn’t quite understand with many implications that perhaps she will never understand. Then Supergirl is leaving through the balcony, flying off into the night in a blur of boastful blues and reds, while Lena is left behind to yell at herself and cry in unpredictable bursts.

Eventually, Lena settles in the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of something that makes the air taste bitter. She’s halfway through her third glass when she slumps forward, her head dropped into her folded arms, breath gradually slowing and deepening.

She watches Lena sleep, waiting until the waiting is unbearable. There are all sorts of reasons why she shouldn’t, but she touches down onto the balcony, sidling into the apartment like a fleeting shadow, and finds herself in Lena’s presence for the very first time.  

The bitter taste is stronger in her nose now, but so is everything else to be perceived about Lena. Everything from her soft snores to the slight warmth her body gives off once within reach.

And she risks that everything for a single touch, brushing her fingertips right where Lena’s long hair starts to end. It’s light, yet stirs something pure, frenzied, and fluttering in her chest. Then Lena sniffles and mumbles into her own arm, “… Kara?” and the moment spills into reality.

Teeth bared, she plucks the glass from Lena’s fragile grip with just enough care that it doesn’t shatter and leaves the same way Supergirl had barely an hour before.

//

She sets the glass before Lex with a firm clack! that calls his attention away from his tablet.

“Oh hello…” Lex sits up with a small chuckle. “And what’s this? Are we celebrating?”

“Lena is sad.”

Lex is out of his chair, his stare wild as he promptly demands, “What happened? What did you see?”

“Kara came. They talked… Supergirl left.” She squeezes her right fist, digging her nails into her palm the way she’s supposed to when things overwhelm her. “And… Lena is sad.”

Lex bursts into laughter. He doesn’t stop laughing for the rest of the night.

//

She doesn’t want to learn things about Lena anymore.

Things are so different now. Lena is quieter, often alone. She spends most of her time at work and not nearly enough time maintaining habits that are meant to keep her alive.

But Lex still insists that she keep watch, so she does, and she still does it so well. She works at it even harder, in fact, now that his visits have become even fewer and farther in between as of late. Lex’s other project is supposedly not as important as she is, but it siphons off his time like it must be.

Lena’s new routine is polished, heavily sanitized, and well-established until the night she breaks it in favor of tasting the nighttime air. She steps onto her balcony in clothes made for sleep and with a glass filled with something more sweet than bitter. Her eyes narrow up at the darkened sky. She stares, as if expectant.

“Hello…? Is somebody out there?” Lena rests her elbows precariously against the railing,  sighing between intermittent sips of her drink. Then, in a softened voice, “… Who are you?” And all of a sudden, Lena’s become tangible and more than just another person waiting for Supergirl to save her.  

Bizarrogirl glides from shadow to shadow, trailing the darkness all the way down to the far corner of the balcony, where she settles in, secluded and silent. Lena doesn’t turn around, but her heartbeat is readily transparent enough for the both of them that it doesn’t matter. “Hello, Lena,” she says.

Lena sighs into her glass. “So, are you the one stealing my things then?”

“Yes.”

“You know… I really thought I was just going crazy. That I was just conjuring up senseless conspiracies because god forbid I ever misplace something like a normal person.” Lena pauses to take a small sip of her drink and chuckle. “But then, you went ahead and took my favorite glass right out of my hand, so…”

She smiles, even though she knows no one can see it. “You are smart.”

“Allegedly,” Lena says, shrugging. She looks over her shoulder, blinks blearily right into the darkness. “You’re really not going to show yourself, huh?”

“No. Never.” She holds her breath, but the follow-up question never comes.

Instead, Lena just turns back around with a small nod. “Believe me, I’d be doing the same thing if I could,” she says quietly, and leaves it at that.

“Not… scared?” she finally has to ask.

“Should I be?”

She shakes her head after some hesitation. “No.”

“Well, there we go then,” Lena says, rubbing at her eyes with a resigned sigh. “Listen… I’m just… so tired right now, and frankly, I just don’t have it in me to address whatever it is you’re trying to do. But to be honest—” she tosses back the last of her drink in a single swallow—“I have enough things. So… consider this a freebie.”

“… Freebie?”

Lena pushes off the railing, exhaling half-hearted laughter. “Yes, freebie. I’m leaving this for you right here, okay? No need to resort to petty theft or breaking and entering.” She sets the empty wineglass right outside her door, but pauses before stepping through. “… So, what’s your name anyway?”

The most obvious answer—so carefully practiced, her clumsy mouth sounding out the word over and over again for her own sake—feels wrong in the moment. A lie, somehow, in the face of Lena’s undeserved generosity.

“You do have a name, don’t you?” Lena glances over, head tilted curiously, and their eyes almost meet despite all the darkness cast between them.

“No,” she manages to say, her fingernails biting fiercely into her own palm.

Lena gives a hum, one so thoughtful and reminiscent of her brother. “Well… that’s something you’ll have to steal from someone else, I’m afraid.”

She watches Lena slide the door shut behind her, but waits until all the lights disappear before reaching for the glass.

//

It takes two more days for Lex to pay her another visit, and he walks into her room to find her turning the wineglass over and over in her hands. He frowns when she doesn’t immediately offer it up to him.

“So, did you learn anything?” Lex asks, and she just nods. “… And…?”

She rolls her right hand into a fist so tight that her entire hand feels like a bruise. “Not. Scared.”

“Lena’s… not scared.” Lex studies the wineglass carefully before directing his sharp gaze back at her face. “I see.”

He doesn’t ask for further clarification, or any other question, or anything at all, for that matter. He just leaves, and she feels nothing about it.

#i started writing this for one (1) specific scene #and that scene's... apparently just never coming #anyway this is exactly 2150 words because hashtag kicksngigglestm #my words.

[picwew]

SQUAD UP! It’s time for Yuna and his crew of miscreant demons!

(Picrews are here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, and here!)

The characters are, top to bottom, left to right--

Nakajima, Yuna: A human with unusually high magical potential. His specialty is the binding of demons into servitude, which he utilizes to stop particularly troublesome demons from threatening human populations across the globe. Most of the demons under his care were seduced by him, as he has quite a knack for making men want him. As such, several of his servants are vying for his favor, but, in his own words, “I don’t play favorites~”

Obviously, Yuna is a bit of a flirt. His tastes extend well beyond demons, into just about any non-human he can get his hands on. He has a ravenous appetite for handsome men, but no plans to settle down any time soon. It isn’t that romance doesn’t appeal to him, more that he’s still young and a little too free-spirited for anything permanent. The way he dotes on his servants, though, you’d certainly think he was in love with them, Nihil in particular.

Mourning Dove: Affectionately referred to by his coworkers as “Dovey”, this little fellow was the first of Yuna’s servants, and is therefore his most staunch defender. The details of his past are hazy, even in his own mind, but he was born into the slave trade, nameless, nothing, the psychological toll of which would not become apparent until his eventual escape. He was full of hatred for the humans who had callously treated him as property, and claimed many lives before Yuna was able to soothe his aching heart. “You’re pretty as a mourning dove,” Yuna told him. From that moment on, he decided that this would be his name.

Dovey is, above all, an empath. Much of his time recovering from a life of slavery was spent learning to feel again. Once he got the hang of it, however, he found that he felt a little too much, so much so that he’s become somewhat of a crybaby. When others are in pain, he is often the one to comfort them. His sweet disposition and cute appearance have earned him his coworkers’ love, although they still get a bit miffed with him whenever he tries to hog Yuna’s attention.

Dr. Callaway: An interesting case, and a tough nut to crack. Only Yuna knows his full name; no one knows his story. All he’s shared is that he was fingered for human experimentation, and that, no, he has neither learned his lesson nor wishes to. Still, he behaves himself well enough, perhaps because he is entirely obsessed with Yuna in the most unhealthy way. While most of his coworkers consider one another family, Dr. Callaway is detached and often mocking of their sentimentality.

As expected, Dr. Callaway is a terrible sadist. He takes great pleasure in hurting others in any way he can. Nowadays, this is limited almost entirely to insults and threats, but he has been known to get physical with others when Yuna isn’t looking. It doesn’t help that nothing seems to bother him in return. You could beat the man senseless, and he’d come out of it grinning like a jackal.

Corvo: This one was a misunderstanding--or, rather, a case of cultures clashing in a very gruesome manner. Corvo is a hybrid of demon and crowkin. Beastkin are not true demons, but are often lumped in with them, so mixed-race families are not uncommon. Unfortunately, this can lead to some problematic offspring, particularly when one or both of the parents are detached from human society. Corvo, like many crowkin, was taught that food is food, and that human meat is the most delicious of all. He bore no ill will toward humans, but his view of them as, essentially, cattle culminated in a visit from Yuna.

Following his binding, Corvo began the lengthy process of finding something he liked more than human flesh. This, as it turned out, was sweets--all sweets, from pastries, to ice cream, to candy. He had never had sweets before, and everyone agreed that they suited his bubbly, affectionate personality more than human flesh anyway. He is certainly the gentlest of all of Yuna’s servants, dedicated to his family and to protecting those in need. He’s especially fond of cats.

Erebus: Known by those who worship him as the Master of Crows, Erebus is an ill-understood being. He is ancient, but has had little to do with his own kind since time out of mind. Instead, he appears to have become so entwined with his worshipers that he can no longer live without their faith to sustain him. During the Northern Crusades, a great many of them were persecuted for their faith, and Erebus fell into a centuries-long slumber. Only when his followers began to grow in number again did he wake--and command those loyal to him to seek vengeance for their fallen brethren. Naturally, Yuna had a thing or two to say about that.

Erebus is highly asocial, but does not dislike his coworkers. It would be a stretch to say he views them as family; even so, he gets along well with them on the rare occasion Yuna can talk him out of his comfortable pocket of darkness. As the oldest of his colleagues, he is respected and even admired, but he cares little for the love of his own kind. He desires mortal love, which he receives through his worshipers. Due to their number still being relatively low, you’ll rarely catch him awake. Only Yuna seems able to rouse him, and only because Yuna is his “most cherished one”.

Mage: A troublemaker with a bark worse than his bite--but he can and will bite, so mind your fingers. Like Dr. Callaway, his true name is known only to Yuna. His coworkers know him as Mage, taken from Magenta, the name of the rather nasty chemical he produces to draw in his prey. He doesn’t harm them, but he has seduced many a married man away from his wife. Causing strife among couples is what he does best. As an incubus, he finds the taste of a married man’s energy too sweet to resist. So, of course, when he found himself seduced by Yuna, he was completely baffled--and absolutely obsessed. He still toys with married men now and then, when he gets the chance, but spends most of his time trying to talk Yuna back into bed.

Though rare, Mage can be persuaded to bust heads, and does so with the best of ‘em. He’s highly territorial, meaning that although he rather likes his colleagues, he often tangles up with them over Yuna’s affection. He is particularly hostile toward Nihil, who rather delights in teasing Mage with his closeness to their master. Outside of his romantic conflicts with his housemates, he tends to be rather lackadaisical, spending much of his free time lounging on every comfortable surface available. People find his presence enjoyable due to his easygoing disposition and passion for mischief.

Nihil: Of all the demons under Yuna’s employ, Nihil is the one who has come closest to winning his heart. Theirs is a strangely intimate relationship, one which Yuna insists is platonic--and yet, Nihil is at his side always, his obedient shadow. Of course, they weren’t always so close. Nihil is an inherently violent, cruel man whose sole purpose in life is to cause as much pain and grief as he possibly can. He is absolutely, positively insane, for no other reason than this is how he believes a demon should be. This is his aesthetic, and a demon’s aesthetic is absolute. He minds his P’s and Q’s now that he’s bound to Yuna, but never lets his “family” forget what he is, Yuna least of all.

Nihil loves no being, except, by his own admission, Yuna. He teases his master constantly, always pushing his limits, always pushing his buttons. “I am your loyal dog,” is a favorite line of his, spoken, with a pointed smile, whenever Yuna asks something of him. For some reason, it never fails to fluster Yuna, which allows Nihil to worm himself further into his darling’s heart. Unlike his colleagues, he is not afraid to get physical with Yuna, and many of their more heated arguments have ended in the bedroom. Whether Nihil actually enjoys servitude remains to be seen, but for Yuna, he would pull the moon from the sky.

Pox: The general consensus on Pox is “unfriendly, but not unbearable”. A life of self-isolation has made him difficult to approach, even more difficult to befriend, especially given that everyone he’s ever loved, he has killed. He is a demon of sickness, of plague and of rot, of suffering so old as to be carved into the bones of the earth. When he was young, he could not control the disease that spread from him. Though his mortal mother tried desperately to guide him, eventually, she was overcome, and Pox left the village he had once called home, now populated only by the dead and dying. He learned then that he could not live among his mother’s people, but he knew nothing of his father’s. Rather than seek them out and put them at risk as well, he exiled himself to the outskirts of human society, interacting with it only when necessary. With time, he came to understand his power, and was able to control it--but his peaceful life came to an end when one of the few humans he had allowed himself to love was killed in a botched robbery. Pox designated himself judge, jury, and executioner, and it wasn’t long before Yuna showed up on his doorstep.

Pox hides his self-loathing under a cold, hard outer shell. His mask is flawless, perfected through a lifetime of guilt, and he allows no one near enough to break it. His coworkers believe that they are despised by him, but in truth, he loves each of them with every inch of himself. Saying so is difficult, though, and such an admission would only encourage them to endanger themselves. He may be in complete control of his magic most days, but there are times even now when he catches himself slipping. He is desperate to protect Yuna and the strange family they have all built together, so much so that he would rather suffer in silence than risk their lives asking for help.

Seta Sericum: The peculiarity of his name has led to his coworkers calling him Silky, a moniker which he has accepted only begrudgingly. Silky is a Nephalem, the product of a love between angel and demon. Typically, his fathers’ love for one another would have ended in tragedy, but the two stayed together even after their angelic half was cast from divinity. Silky was raised in a happy home, albeit a mobile one; his fathers couldn’t risk staying in one place for too long, lest the Church track them down. Ultimately, it was the Church, their greatest fear, that was their end. They were cut down while protecting Silky, who was forced to flee in the vain hope that his absence might somehow save his fathers. The Church searched for him, but he had hidden himself well. Now an orphan, he swore vengeance on his parents’ murderers--and he got it too, once he was old enough to control his immense magical power. He despises the Church, but killed only those among its ranks who had directly harmed him. Regardless, Yuna came for him, and he submitted to servitude as recompense.

Silky’s demonic father was a real fop of a man, and his son is no different now that he’s had a chance to adjust to a normal life. He insists that everyone pull their own weight, that everything be in its place at all times, and has a fondness for indulgences such as expensive wine and imported chocolates. Without these little luxuries, he would surely have gone mad, for both his mischievous master and his trouble-making housemates frustrate him to no end. He has tried, with mixed success, to serve as a role model for them, but, oh, they are all such children. Dovey is far too naive, Dr. Callaway is far too sadistic, Corvo is far too oblivious, Mage is far too flirtatious, Nihil is far too violent, Pox is far too cold, and Vincent is far too reclusive. Erebus, at least, is well-behaved, though Silky thinks he could stand to mingle more with the group.

Vincent Blythe: On the forefront of medical progress during the Victorian Era, Dr. Vincent Blythe has become little more than a shell of his former self. When his prostitute mother was murdered by one of her stags, something snapped in him. He began targeting, torturing, and finally killing any man who frequented brothels or whom he had seen with street-walkers, believing himself to be the protector of his mother’s people. It was only then when he realized he was something more than human. His father, it turned out, had been a demon who had fallen terribly in love with his mother, but whose feelings had been spurned by her. After receiving a near-fatal wound in a skirmish with a prominent vampire hunter of the day, Vincent tucked himself away in a dark corner of London to heal. He slept for over a century, and when he woke, attempted to pick up where he’d left off. Confused, his trauma still fresh in his mind, he killed all who drew near. Phone calls were made, flights were booked, and Yuna arrived on scene to bring him back to his senses.

Vincent is terribly withdrawn. On the one hand, he is distrustful of all humans, and men in particular frighten him. On the other hand, he has had little to no experience with his own kind, and so struggles to fit in among them. He finds himself at an impasse, unable to shake the trauma of his mother’s murder, and equally unable to bond with his father’s kin. Because of this, he is prone to bouts of violent madness when he feels that he is being threatened, or when he wakes from particularly vivid nightmares, in which he witnesses his mother’s murder and can do nothing to stop it. Dr. Callaway has oft remarked that Vincent is a genius, a true medical prodigy, and that it is too bad he’s so “broken”.

#picrew #male ocs #demon ocs

[glowingbadger]

God your galaxy brain brat tamer!Zelgius is just *chef's kiss*

If you don't mind, how about a request for Zelgius and a little bratty fem!s/o (with a size kink 😩) teasing him and riling him up all day

YES please ugh. I wish all cute little subs a very get railed by your big strong dom~

CW: punishment, brat taming, sub/dom

Zelgius (FE:POR/RD) x Fem Reader

NSFW 18+

You know fully well that you're playing a dangerous game. Not many would intentionally provoke Zelgius, easily the strongest of Begnion's army, among other less widely known accolades. Most would assume that even his lover would hardly dare such a thing. Yet you'd resolved to spend the day testing the waters of what you could get away with.

He'd noticed immediately, of course; even the hint of a coy glint in your eye as you'd looked him over that morning was enough to imply your intentions. At the time, he'd only raised an eyebrow curiously, observed your tighter-than-usual attire, cleared his throat and went about his duties. Later on, you come to visit him between training exercises with his troops. While you know that interrupting their regiment would be beyond the pale, you do dare to punctuate your little chat with a lingering kiss on his cheek- which of course, you ensure happens in full view of his subordinates. While stifled chuckles and whispered comments move through their ranks in a wave, Zelgius' eyes narrow and lock on you as you turn innocently to leave him to his work.

Finally, a number of lingering looks and light touches later, you make the move that you know will earn you your punishment. In the middle of a droll strategy debriefing, you sit beside your stoic lover as he reviews the status and morale of his troops for those in attendance. Then, as he speaks, your hand rests gently on his firm thigh. If he notices, gives no indication, merely continuing his report. Yet as he makes his final notes, your touch slides gradually up his thigh, reaching warmer and more dangerous territory.

The moment he concludes his review, he directs a sideways glance at you that makes his intentions abundantly clear. The quiet fury in his eyes tells you clearly that you will pay for your behavior- and by now, you're eager for it.

You enter his quarters that night with a mischievous smirk and a pounding heart. He makes as handsome a picture as always, seated at his desk with immaculate posture as he writes what looks like some form of correspondence- likely to that mysterious master of his who, even now, he refuses to speak of to you in any detail. When you approach, Zelgius doesn't acknowledge you until you drape your arms around his broad shoulders and nestle your face against thick black hair. Whatever he's writing, he turns it face down onto the desk, then side-eyes you and says,

"You have been absolutely incorrigible today."

"I'm certain I don't know what you mean," you reply, your lips brushing the shell of his ear. With a sigh of exasperation, he pushes himself out a bit from his desk. Then, his hand finds your waist and he directs you forcefully to stand in front of him.

"I know you're quite aware of your own attempts at provocation," he says firmly, "and as I'm sure you are also aware, there will be consequences to follow." His voice bears a dangerous edge, but you bite at your lip and smile sweetly.

"Attempts at provocation?" you ask playfully, "it seems to me like I've succeeded."

You only see the flash in his darkened eyes for a moment before he seizes you by your hips and turns you toward his desk. As your next sassy response begins to form in your mind, he raises his hand behind you, and when he brings it down across your ass, you give a gasping yelp and subconsciously bend forward over the desk. The rounded flesh of your backside jiggles and aches at the impact, but you hardly notice amidst the rush of arousal that plunges through your center. Zelgius only spanks you once- he knows once is all that's needed. Then, he tugs down your underclothes and pushes up your sorry excuse for a skirt, he sees that the spot he struck is already tinted an angry red. When you manage to speak, you can't possibly camouflage the lust in your voice with affected defiance.

"Is- is that all? You know I can take more."

"Don't try this with me, Y/N." Zelgius warns. His large hands cup your ass cheeks and squeeze them, bouncing them before him and emphasizing the sore spot of where he spanked you.

"I thought you said there would be consequence-"

A strangled cry pulls from your throat as he brings down his hand on your other cheek, striking you harder this time and immediately matching the first bruise. You're panting, clinging to the desk beneath you, yet he doesn't say a word. Only vaguely aware of the sensation, his thumbs part the puffy lips of your pussy before him. The cool air of his quarters meets the wet heat at your core, finally drawing your attention from the lingering pain of your backside. Then, you feel yourself spread open for him, his strong fingers even stretching the opening of your drooling cunt a little as he observes you.

"How shameful," he says, his voice low and masculine, "Could it be that misbehaving arouses you? How truly depraved."

All at once, you lose your footing and come tumbling backward onto Zelgius' lap as he tugs you down onto him. His hands hook under your knees and force your legs to sling over his thighs, spreading you open for him while your torso rests back against his hard, muscular chest.

"No matter," he growls against your ear as one hand works his member out of the front of his breeches, the other holding you firmly to him, "I will be certain to remind you of your place."

"You and what-" you're cut off again, this time by his hot, hard length pressing between your lower lips. He doesn't enter you- not yet. Instead, your labia slide against his thick, veined shaft, and glancing down, you can see the impressive length curving up between your parted thighs. "Oh..." you whimper softly at the sight of it, flushed to a dark red and practically threatening you with its presence.

Then, Zelgius lifts you, his powerful arms handling you like a helpless doll. You're left uselessly whining for him, arched back against his larger frame behind you as he aligns the tip of his manhood with your now soaked pussy. And when he lowers you onto the throbbing mass of his cock, he first nestles only the head inside of you. Zelgius allows your legs to support you just a bit on his lap, and you instinctively try to hold yourself up, prevent yourself from taking too much of him at once.

"I thought this was your aim," he says with clear derision in his voice, "Come now, hurry up and take it deeper."

"I- I can't- AAH-!!"

He grips your hips so hard they ache, and all at once, he forces you down onto his cock. You go completely limp against his body, your thighs violently shaking and your gut screaming with pain and pleasure. Your lips form the syllables of his name, but you can't utter a sound other than the occasional gasp for air. Zelgius trails battle-calloused hands up your sides, taking his time with the curves of your hips and waist, then up towards your breasts. Your vision blurs in and out of focus, but by the time you've just about caught your breath, you feel his fingers begin to roughly tug and pinch at your nipples, which stiffen immediately in reply.

"Zelgius- puh- please-!"

"Where has that rebellious spirit of yours gone, I wonder?" he says, his breath warm against your face, "I had hoped you would have a little more fight in you."

"Too... big-!" you whine, leaning your head against him as you attempt to shift your hips enough to accomodate for his massive length invading your body. Zelgius gives a contemplative hum, and while one of those large, powerful hands remains at your chest to fondle you at his leisure, the other slides down the front of your body.

"Where do you feel the tip, Y/N?" He murmurs as his touch reaches your pelvis, "Roughly... here, would you say?"

At first, you only produce a weak little moan.

"Answer me," he prompts, and by now, you won't dare to disobey him. You inhale deeply and force yourself to say,

"Deeper- it's... deeper than that."

"Show me." Zelgius' voice rumbles behind you. With trembling hands, you guide his own higher up your body, until it's just below your navel. "Here?" he asks, and you nod. Then, he presses down on the spot, and you gasp out his name as your eyes roll back. He's creating an unbearable pressure at the point where the thick head of his cock nudges up against your womb. Tears bead the corners of your eyes, but Zelgius either doesn't notice or doesn't care.

His hands leave your body quite suddenly, but before you can question him, his grip is at the back of your throat.

"Ride it," he commands, sitting back in his chair with his hold firm around your neck, "You wanted this badly enough to squander your day taunting me, so now is your opportunity to show me how grateful you are."

Your entire body burns, your thighs tremble with the strain of merely holding him inside of your stretched and abused cunt- but you force yourself to obey him. Slowly, carefully, you rock your hips forward, then back, grinding onto him and feeling his veins and contours rubbing against your inner walls with every shift. You brace yourself on the arms of the chair and push yourself up just enough to bounce your body up and down on his shaft. All the while, his hold on your throat never loosens. With time, he even uses this leverage to force you into his preferred rhythm, pushing you down onto his cock as he likes. And despite yourself, you can't withstand the incredible rush of being punished and used like this- like all you're good for is taking your powerful lover's cock. Your cunt twitches and squeezes in around him, your panting breath comes faster, more stilted. At last, your head tilts back, and Zelgius can obviously feel you cumming around him.

He scoffs, and for a moment, releases your throat from his grasp.

"You've cum already? What a disgraceful lack of endurance," he says, the words hardly reaching you through your pleasured daze. Then, his hands are at your hips once more, and he snarls against your ear, "I am nowhere near sated."

Zelgius brings you down onto the full length of his manhood with such force that, for a moment, you forget how to breathe. Any last vestiges of strength or resistance you might have had now vanish as he slams into you to the base. His hips push upward as his grip slams you down to meet him, and if you could even form a coherent thought, you might worry that he's bruising something inside of you. In no time at all, he's reduced you to a gasping, whining mess on his lap, your inner thighs coated in your release and your entire frame trembling against him.

His pace only increases, and by now, all you can do is lie boneless in his arms as Zelgius ruins you. You feel so small- so absolutely helpless- and it's wonderful. Subject to this mind-numbing pleasure, you can't imagine why you ever wanted to go against your lover's wishes to begin with. Now, feeling the bulging veins and ridged head of his cock dragging along your inner walls as he fucks up into you, you truly feel that you would do and give anything to remain forever as an obedient slave to his body.

"How dare you try to taunt me!" Zelgius practically roars as he fucks you senseless and breathless, "You've no one to blame but yourself for this treatment-! Do I make myself perfectly clear?!"

"Yeh-yesss...!!"

"What's that?!"

"Ye-yessir-!!" you cry, and at long, long last, Zelgius forces his full member into your deepest point, letting out husky groans through gritted teeth as his cum bursts out deep within you. His release is hot and thick as it fills you, each shot like an impact against your inner walls. You give a barely audible whimper at each volley, until finally, you feel his muscles begin to relax, and his spent cock give one final pleasurable twitch.

He huffs out a sigh and carefully lifts you up off of his length- but he knows full well that you're in no state to support your own weight. Instead, he cradles you to him and places a soft kiss to your forehead; and it would be a sweet and tender gesture if not for the excess cum already dripping down your inner thighs. Zelgius notes this with raised eyebrows, then exhales once more.

"Come now, let's get you cleaned up."

You wear a dazed, blissful smile, nuzzling against his chest as he carries you, and you murmur,

"Yes, sir..."

#zelgius #zelgius x reader #zelgius fire emblem #fire emblem #feh #fe por #fire emblem path of radiance #fire emblem radiant dawn #tellius #fire emblem x reader #fire emblem smut #x reader #sub dom

[crispin-kreme]

how to mend a broken heart ; kim sunoo

part 5/7 of the series

synopsis: every one is born with a heart that glows and it is visible amongst themselves. kim sunoo has the brightest heart and so do you. but a conflict arises between sunoo's life, making the heart lose its glow. gradually, sunoo has become numb to pain once his heart lost his glow. will you be able to ignite his heart again or lose him forever?

genre: angst, slight fluff, best friends to lovers au

pairings: student! kim sunoo x gn! reader

warnings: grammatical errors, car accident, and blood

notes: look who finally updated- im gonna finish this series in a bit because it just hit me that my classes are nearing (im starting on july 21 ew) so yea yall get the gist. sorry for not updating in a long time but anyways- enjoy! also thanks to @atsuwiee for helping out with the plot! <3

sunoo was probably born with the brightest heart amongst his classmates. he kept the brightest smile and he lets out the brightest laughter. being friends with him was easy. considering you both grew up in the same neighborhood and you both study in the same school.

he was a social butterfly and you were absolutely the quite opposite but you still managed to get yourself a small group of friends. your heart grew in an average level. you were happy and at times you were sad. unlike sunoo, you bet that his heart grows brighter than yours.

with sunoo’s bright outbursts of energy, you can’t help yourself fall in love with him. the way he smiles and his eyes quickly resembles a fox, the way he laughs at your lame jokes, and the way he talks gracefully about his day. oh you were a hopeless romantic over him. on the other hand, sunoo loved you from afar as well. he simply admires every thing about you. he loves you as well.

“y/n! how was your day?” sunoo says as he walks beside you “its okay.” you simply replied. both of you were exiting the school gates, school has finally ended for this day. both of you then just decided to take a quick stroll around town. “okay? what do you mean by ‘okay’?” he asks. “sunoo, i don’t have to explain that. its alright. my day went well.” you said with a soft smile placed onto your lips. sunoo smiled “good then!” he replied.

you looked at sunoo and asked “how about you? how was your day?” sunoo shrugged “boring as usual.” he rolls his eyes “why did the teacher even separate us into two different classes?! we were always in the same class, right? it’s so boring without you.” sunoo ranted and frowned “we literally live in the same neighborhood. you can come to my house anytime.” you pointed out. sunoo’s mouth became agape “...right.” he says.

sunoo quickly checked his phone and suddenly gasped “oh no- i was supposed to go to my groupmates’ house today!” he exclaimes. “eh- what for?” you asked “for a project. don’t worry, i think their house isn’t far from here.” sunoo explained. “okay- i’ll take a detour now. take care, y/n! call me when you get home.” he tells you before running away in a rush for a school work.

you sighed as you were left alone on the sidewalk. “gosh- i’m hungry...” you mumbled to yourself. the sun was almost down but that didn’t stop you from going to a convinience store and grabbing a snack as dark came.

as you arrived home, you threw yourself on your bed. it was about 7 in the evening already. you were still alone and your parents weren’t home yet so you decided to call sunoo since you arrived home.

he didn’t pick up. it was only a voicemail.

again and again and again. sunoo didn’t pick up.

you sighed as you faced your ceiling “maybe he’s tired...” you muttered under your breath. you did your night routine before you could even go to bed. you see your heart beating- still glowing so you didn’t really have a problem with anything.

all you didn’t know, as you fall asleep. sunoo is slowly being rushed to the hospital. with his blood stained face and an unbearable pain on his head, its no surprise that he might not even get through this night due to the accident.

the glow of sunoo’s heart started to dim.

hours into your sleep, someone calls you. you stirred in your sleep as you grabbed your phone under your pillow. you just assumed it was sunoo since he’s the only person who can call you at this ungodly hour. you picked up only to hear a woman crying over the phone. you immediately jolted up as you recognized the voice.

“mrs. kim?” you responded to sunoo’s mother. “y/n? i’m so sorry to call you this late.” his mother says apologetically “its alright.” you politely replied. “its alright. what’s wrong, mrs. kim?” you asked in curiousity and concern “well... its about sunoo.” his mother stated.

the news made you feel uneasy. you felt your world stop.

its been a week since the accident. sunoo wasn’t coming to school nor sunoo was contacting you. when you tried to visit sunoo, he forbid you to do so. his texts became shorter and blunt as well as his attitude. you checked the glow of your heart and it was still glowing at a normal rate. you wonder how sunoo’s heart is glowing right now.

sunoo’s heart completely lost its glow. sad to say, his condition made him numb to any pain. he wanted to be isolated. after that car accident, it was discovered that sunoo has turned deaf due to the severe head trauma he experienced during the accident. ever since he got discharged, he never showed up to school and contacts you at a seldom rate.

truly, he wanted to be isolated because of his condition. he feared that you will never love him back because he is now completely deaf. he could still talk but he still needs to learn some sign languages at the moment.

you didn’t hesitate to storm into his house (with the notice of his parents of course. you let them know that you were going to visit him). you made your way quickly into his house and in front of his bedroom. you knocked aggresively. you were a bit furious on why he didn’t want you to visit him thus, you being aggresive.

“open the door, fucker!” you raised your voice. sunoo was curled up in bed, not knowing you were there in front of his door. “i’m coming in you ‘lil shit.” you announced as you barged in his door. you saw sunoo curled up in bed, not noticing your presence. you closed the door and stood in front of him.

sunoo suddenly jolted up upon seeing your presence “y-y/n!” he stutters. sunoo needed to explain faster so that you could communicate with him. “before you talk. i have something to say.” he says. you sit down beside him on his bed. sunoo fixes his posture and looks at you straight in the eye.

“i- y/n, i-i’m deaf.” sunoo said. your eyes widened. “...so please. just type your response in the notes. i couldn’t hear you. i’m so sorry.” he explained, as he tries to regulate his voice. you were still in shock so you nodded and grabbed your phone. you typed in your response.

so this is why you’ve been avoiding me ever since the accident?

sunoo read your response and nodded in reply.

why? you thought that i would dislike you for it?

“yes...” he replied with his head low. “i-i really thought of that.” he added. still, you could see how sunoo was a bit blunt. but sunoo’s heart started to glow little by little, he could feel some warmth.

you listened to him carefully. sunoo’s tears started to form and fall down. “i- i love you, y/n! when i knew i lost my hearing, i feared that you’ll never feel the same way for me.” he explained. sunoo’s heart started glowing brightly again.

“its ridiculous to love someone who can’t hear, right?” he asked rhetorically as he wiped his tears. you couldn’t help but tear up too now that he confessed to you. you brought his face up to your sight and cupped his face.

sunoo reads your lips.

‘i love you too.’ is what you said and sooner later you had to type it in. but sunoo understood you.

“how-“ sunoo gets cut off as you kissed his lips. he wiped your tears “stop crying...” sunoo says as he tried to smile. “i love you so much.” he adds.

your heart glowed brightly like the sun so as sunoo’s. he feels your warmth again, he feels happy.

finally, even without hearing your voice, his broken heart is now mended.

would you like to proceed?

yes/go back

#enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen angst #enhypen x reader #enhypen fluff #kim sunoo #enhypen x gender neutral reader #enhypen oneshots #enhypen oneshot #why do i feel like this is shitty omg

[acapelladitty]

Jason Todd/Female Reader: Breathplay (1.8k)

(Warnings: choking, fingering, outdoor displays)

Being cornered by the infamous Red Hood was not how you had anticipated this night to end and, as you watched the final body of your fellow henchmen fall to the floor after a swift kick to the temple, you can’t help but eye up the only exit to the alleyway you were currently trapped in; an exit which stood behind the dark figure who was now watching you cautiously.

“Don’t think about it, sweetheart.”

His voice was gruff, muffled by the red helmet which covered his entire head and prevented you from seeing his expression as he slowly approached you, knowing that you were unarmed and unlikely to pose any real threat as he spoke once more.

“I can’t believe that a cutie like you works for someone like Dent.”

Cutie.

Despite your anxiety, the compliment is noted, and you hope it is enough to buy you some leniency.

His strides towards you were confident and you found yourself stepping back for every step he took forward until you felt your spine connect against the mesh of a metal fence. Glancing up, the fence was too high to scale and a growing sense of panic overtook you as you realised you were trapped.

While not as openly dangerous or sadistic as some of the other costumed rogues, the Red Hood was not known for his mercy and the blood on his hands was well known across Gotham. With this knowledge in mind, as his presence looms over you, it seems only natural that you feel a spike of fear as his hand slams against the metal just off to the side of your head.

“So where is he? Where is Dent hiding?”

“I-I can’t tell you that, he’ll kill me.”

Red Hood chuckles, speaking almost conversationally as he invades your personal space.

“Listen, don’t make me threaten to shoot you. I don’t like threatening to shoot pretty women when they’re unarmed, even if they’re working for a maniac.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t-”

His hand is quicker than you could have anticipated as it wraps around your throat and gives a threatening squeeze; not harsh by any means, but enough to indicate that he meant business.

“Look, I don’t hav- was that a moan?”

You didn’t respond to his question but the high flush of colour which decorated your cheeks was enough to be a dead giveaway. His hand around your throat had caught you off-guard and, in your heightened state of tension, it had sent a wave of pure arousal through you which allowed a low moan to escape your lips.

The hand around your throat keeps its position but it loosens slightly as he hesitates, obviously debating something with himself as his body remains frozen in place. Coming to a decision, his free hand snakes around the back of his head and, with a slight metallic hiss, his helmet comes free in his hand as he drops it to the ground delicately.

“Oh, babygirl, I heard that moan.”

A fresh flush of heat sweeps across your entire body as you meet his eyes.

Fuck, he’s handsome.

You had seen his face before, plastered across several target boards which told you he had a price on his head from Roman Sionis, the Black Mask himself. But those posters did little justice to showcase his thick dark hair which was only marred by a bright, white streak over his forehead and the many attractive features below. His eyes were a sharp blue and his tanned skin only served to make the whites of his eyes seem even sharper as he fixed you with a pointed gaze, a smirk curling the edges of his lips.

“Maybe you’ll give Dent up with a little incentive.” His free hand comes to rest against your hip and every through the fabric of your jacket and slacks, you swear you can feel the heat of his touch, “What do you think? Up for it?”

“Yes.” You sigh out, your hand coming to lay atop his as you move it towards your chest, sensing what he was asking you and giving your consent without too much thought as you were caught up in the moment, “Please?”

“Please?” His eyes narrow, searching your expression even as both his hands fly to your wrists, pinning them against the metal fence as he measures out your intent, “Are you sure you want this?”

“Do it,” you groan, arcing your upper body out towards him, “but put your hand around my neck again.”

He complies with a low growl, releasing your hands to once again grip at your throat and his free hand instead brushes across your chest, cupping each breast as he took his time exploring your clothed flesh.

“You’re certainly something, cutie.” He mutters into the small space between you as his hand dips lower, tracing along the waistband of your slacks as you gasp in place, pushing your groin towards his travelling fingers.

Unable to move too much, you can only release a pathetic whimper as his hand unzips the fly of your slacks and dips within the space; the tips of his fingers running along the cloth of your panties as they follow the concealed slit there. Pushing past the fabric, his finger teases the entrance of your sex and you grind against him, willing him to apply more pressure and he does so without preamble, thrusting his finger within you and sending a sharp jolt of pleasure through your spine as he moves within you.

A second finger is quick to join the first as your fingers scramble against the chain links of the metal fence and your laboured breathing becomes more intense. The pleasure builds across your core; your growing wetness quickly coating his fingers and making his movements much slicker as his thumb brushes soft circles along your clit.

Small white spots were beginning to touch the edges of your vision as his hand kept up its impressive pressure against your throat and you jump in place as his other hand pauses its delightful ministrations against your aching core.

“Do you still want this?” His voice is rough, and you swear you can sense the slightest hesitation behind the words, but you put it down to a lack of proper oxygen as you writhe against him.

“Yes.” You breathe out gently, the most you can manage due to your restricted windpipe, but he nods your consent as his fingers slip past your panties once again to resume their skilled exploration of your sex.

The sensation of his fingers wrapped around your throat was intoxicating and low grunts and moans escape your lips as you focus on his expression and the lustful intensity which lay within his piercing gaze as he watched your every reaction carefully. You can feel the lack of oxygen causing your blood to roar within your ears; the sensation mixing with the unbearable pleasure of his fingers as they stroked along your slit and focused on your clit, rubbing rough circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves until it was almost unbearable.

“Are you going to come for me, baby?” He purrs into your ear, his fingers flexing against your throat to allow you the ability to answer.

“Oh, fuck yes.” You reply, the final sound drawing out into a low hiss as he renews his assault on your aching core, fingers moving rapidly within you as he pushed you to your end.

“Then do it.” A soft growl accompanies the words as his lips curl into a knowing smirk, sensing how close you were.

His hand tightened once again, truly cutting off your air supply as he thrust two fingers within you, curling them against your sweetest spot as his thumb moved frantically across your clit. You couldn’t hold out any longer and your vision almost seems to black out momentarily as your orgasm hits; every nerve in your body seeming to alight at once as the lack of oxygen heightened all sensation and forced your walls to clamp around his fingers. Your mess coating your panties and his hand as your fingers claw desperately at the chain link fence, trying to find any purchase that would take your mind off the intense pleasure curling your toes and frying your senses.

He loosens his grip around your throat just as the intensity of your orgasm begins to subside and hot tears threaten the edges of your vision as the first gulps of air reach your aching lungs. Your legs feel weak and you are grateful for the hard support of his body against yours as your body twitches its appreciation of the fresh oxygen.

“I don’t know what pay Dent offers but I can offer better benefits.” The final word is purred, leaving no guesswork on his meaning, “So if you fancy a change in employer, the Red Hood would be more than happy to take you on.”

Barely comprehending his words, you glance up at his expression, noting both the lust and satisfaction which flashes through his gaze as his eyes met your own.

“What?”

“Just something to keep in mind, cutie.” He smirks, dipping one hand down to pick up his discarded helmet, “Now, do you want to tell me where Dent is holed up?”

“138 Crystal Wave Lane.” You respond a little hoarsely, “Just to the west of the Falcone meat packing place.”

“Thanks, doll. You’ve saved me a lot of time.”

Pulling away from you, he takes a respectful step back to allow you to re-zip your fly and get yourself in a presentable state as you test out the strength in your legs.

“Will you get home from here?”

Not expecting the question, it takes you a moment to answer.

“Yeah, I live just around the block. In the flats.”

“Okay.”

“On the top floor.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Second window from the right.”

“Noted.”

Taking a step forward, you note the tension is his body as he moves to help but finds it is unnecessary as you are steady enough on your feet to walk without assistance. Glancing around at your fallen comrades, you are thankful that no one was able to witness your little escapade and you hasten to make your exit.

Turning back to look at the now re-hooded Red Hood, you allow your eyes to follow his lithe form as it quickly scales a nearby fire escape and disappears up the nearby rooftop, no doubt on his way to pay your former boss a less than friendly visit.

The Red Hood was not known for his mercy but a smirk tugged at the edges of your lips as you consider that the fact that you know, beyond a doubt, that he absolutely has more than just blood on his hands.

Fic also available on AO3 here.

#jason todd #red hood #jason todd x reader #red hood x you #batfam #dc comics

[matryosika]

shoot me, chapter VI

pairing — changbin x reader

rating — 18+

genre of the overall series — smut, angst, fluff if you squint

prologue chapter I chapter II chapter III chapter IV chapter V chapter VI

word count for this chapter — 4.1 k

warnings — mentions of alcohol and emotional abuse

note — this chapter has no smut in it. still, the love-story gets completely developed here. next chapters will be filled with smut and angst so stay tuned! i haven't read this chapter because i wanted to upload it as soon as possible, so it may contain grammar mistakes. i will check it later since i have to go out with my family to have dinner! <3 hope you enjoy

taglist:@cozyblues @ahgasearmyfan @binnie-m00n @minaamhh @pinkishwen @spilledtee

*

[changbin's pov]

"so?" you asked him, modeling one of the dresses that you had previously selected from the expensive clothing shop "what do you think?"

she looks like a goddess.

"good" changbin limited to reply. "is that the last one?"

"c'mon you are not helping at all" you grunted, turning around slightly on the mirror to see the full silhouette of the dress "this might be the one, don't you think?"

i think so. i think you look perfect in all the things you have tried on, actually.

"it's alright" the dark-haired man reply "just take that one and let's get this over with"

"jesus, changbin" you whined "you are such a pain in the ass. if you were in a bad mood then you shouldn't have accepted to drive me here so i can buy a dress for the wedding"

you had been in korea for a month and 2 weeks now, your relationship with changbin growing unconciously intimate as you often engage in sexual encounters with him. you wouldn't say the both of you were close, but each day that passed by you could feel how you learned more about him just like he learned more about you too. you wouldn't consider him a good friend, since hostility made a presence every now and then between the both of you, but you had learned to spend time with him without feeling the need to put plugs into your ears and a blindfold to stop acknowledging his existence.

"if you needed help picking a dress" changbin interrupted, standing up from the seat he had been occupying for the last 45 minutes "you should've asked hyejin or ryujin to come and help you out, not me"

"hyejin is busy" you were quick to respond "ryujin had work today and you were the only other person i know that owns a car"

"cabs exist"

"yeah well" you made a pause, swallowing hard "i don't like cabs"

"you could've asked arthur to lend you his private driver" changbin tilted his head slightly.

"i get uncomfortable with strangers" you answered after a few seconds of being completely silent, changbin's gaze making you incredibly nervous.

"really?" he inquired, one of his hands traveling all the way to the pocket of his jacket as he pulled his wallet out. "why won't you just admit that you wanted to spend time with me?"

"fuck no" a grimace of disgust was quick to appear on your face "don't get confused. i would rather be dead than to spend more time with you than i already have to"

"yet you are still here" he teased "maybe i'm not as unbearable as your mind is trying to convince you i truly am"

with lazy steps he took the bunch of dresses that were piled up on the chair next to him, putting them all over his shoulder as he walked to the counter. "what are you doing?" you asked, still wearing the last dress you tried on.

"you are indecisive and i am starving" he said without even looking at you "i don't need to spend another 45 minutes here looking at how much you struggle to pick between 5 dresses, just have them all and pick one when you are alone"

you looked at him in desbelief "do you have any idea of how much just one of them cost? are you stupid?" you almost yelled in astonishment, looking at the figure of changbin slightly turning around to face you.

"i am not stupid" changbin reply "like i said, i am just hungry"

and currently thinking about how beautiful you are looking right now with that look of amazement on your pretty face. if i could, i would buy you the entire world just for you to destroy.

[y/n's pov]

"i will pay every single one of those dresses back before i leave" you mumbled, eating your food as if you had been starving for days "i had money, i didn't need you to come and rescue me as if i was some sort of damsel in distress"

"you were in distress though" he added, taking a sip of the drink he ordered "you took almost 30 minutes just to pick one dress to try on, you are really undecisive"

"yeah well, it's not like i had anywhere else to be" you replied.

"isn't arthur going to have a small gathering at his house today?" changbin inquired "like a pre-celebration of the wedding or something?"

you shrugged your shoulders "i don't know and i don't care. i am just here for the wedding and then i will be finally free"

you kept on eating your plate of food, confused as to why changbin's gaze stayed fix on you. "what, do i have something on my f-?"

"are you leaving right after the wedding?" he asked in a very hostile way, almost as if he had completely forgot that you were not going to stay forever.

"not right after but that's the main reason i came here, yeah" you replied, having a mixture of feelings inside your guts.

you couldn't deny the fact that you missed tsukuba, but living there meant to be trapped in the university dorms 24/7 just studying. but still, the lifestyle you have had for the past time was absolutely something you could get use to it: ryujin, hyejin, going out on the weekends, being free from school, changbin...

changbin?

"i still don't know the exact date though" you added "school doesn't start for me in another months so..."

"how is your life?" he asked, earning a weird look from you as you couldn't quite understand his question "in Japan, i mean"

you sighed. you had thought that living in japan was really good and you felt utterly comfortable living there until you arrived to korea and discovered a whole new life style that you had already learned to love. not only that, but leaving everything here was going to get you a bit nostalgic in the future. "it is great, better than people say it is honestly" you responded as he nodded "i live at the university dorms so life is pretty much everything but rushed. i spend my days at the library studying, i sometimes work as a shadow teacher for like 4 or 5 kids and on weekends i go and visit my mom and her partner"

"your mom got married after divorcing arthur?" changbin followed, just in time as he finished his dish of food.

"uh, it's complicated" you gave him a smile "she lives with someone and she is very happy"

"and are you?"

you were about to answer the question when you felt a pinch on your heart. a month ago you would have replied "yes" without a doubt. you thought you were happy living in japan, you thought you were happy when you visited thea, your mother, and reiko, her girlfriend. you thought you were happy when reiko made you her special coffee and you thought you were happy when they ocasionally visited you on winter nights at your dorm. you thought you were happy when you worked with children and spent time with them. you thought you were happy when you rode your bike from school to work and you thought you were happy when ryejin visited you and your mom on the holidays.

however, you had learned a new definition of happiness here.

"are you?" you fired back.

changbin slightly tilted his head as he laid completely back on his seat "i could be"

"what is exactly stopping you from being happy?" you asked him, intruiged.

"even if i explained it to you" he mumbled "i don't think you will be able to understand it"

"ah, there you are again" you scoffed, slightly rolling your eyes "your god complex has not show all day. i guess you missed it."

"c'mon" he grunted, raising his hand at one of the waiters at the restaurant "let's go somewhere else"

"where exactly?" you laughed "to your place? your car? a motel? jesus changbin, you can't really go a day without fucking, can you?"

"that's not actually what i had in mind" he replied, taking out his credit card as he saw the waiter approaching the table "but i mean if you want to fuck i won't say no"

"you had something in mind?" you asked, faking excitment "for me? you planned something for me?"

"if you want i can drop you at arthur's place right now so he can force you to have dinner with him and his bride. it's up to you"

you weren't really feeling like spending "quality time" with your father, and you also knew that hyejin was probably not going to attent the dinner, so there was no point of you being there. but at the same time, the thought of spending time with changbin doing non-sexual activities was something that it always made you nervous for an unknown reason, and you were feeling particularly nervous today.

"whatever"

*

the evening went on peacefully and that alone was unreal. he drove you to the center of seoul and suggested to take a walk around the most popular avenues because "the city looked better at night", something you have always believed too.

changbin was attractive and, even though your personalities crashed every damn time, you couldn't deny the fact that there were some sort of intimate bond going on between the both of you since that very first night at the bar. still, you wouldn't accept it. you wouldn't accept that the one person you disliked the most was starting to change your mind.

and you couldn't get yourself to trust him either. you couldn't trust any men, for that matter.

"have you thought about which dress you are going to wear tomorrow?" he asked so casually, his hands inside the pockets of his jacket as his gaze diverted from building to building.

"no" you replied, trying to get back at the trail of thoughts you had been threading since you left the restaurant with him. "have you?"

"have i thought about the dress i am going to wear tomorrow?" he laughed "i don't know, it will depend on which one you lend me"

"i got distracted" you admitted "but i will try on all the dresses tomorrow morning and i will give you the rest of them so you can return them to the store"

"i won't do that" he clicked his tongue "i bought them for you"

your heart skipped a beat after hearing those words and it was everything but pleasent.

"i don't want them"

"you can't reject a gift" he mumbled "that's the whole point of a gift"

"i will sell them on the internet" you threatened.

"do it, at the end of the day they are yours" he gave you a side look while smirking "but i wouldn't sell them if i were you. you look good in them"

"oh so you want to give opinions about the dresses now, huh?" you asked, mildly annoyed "you could've help me back at the store but you chose to be grumpy"

"at least i am helping you now"

"you are unbearable" you whispered.

a bright smile was quick to appear on his face. a genuine smile, as if he was enjoying the conversation. not only the conversation but the whole moment: you and him, walking around the city and talking about something so casual and trivial like which clothes you were going to wear tomorrow or which dress he liked best on you.

and for a moment it felt nice.

you felt safe.

"the red one was pretty" he added. you looked at him confused, once again lost in your trail of thoughts. "the red dress, the one that you tried on last"

"good" you responded "i'll make sure not to wear that one"

"you hate me that much?" he teased while a faint chuckle left his lips.

"oh changbin, you have no idea" deep down knowing it wasn't more than a vile lie.

*

you looked in the mirror one last time before you heard hyejin calling your name once again "y/n, how long will you take? i need to stop by the bakery to pick up the wedding cake"

"i'll be out in a minute" you replied, noticing how your hands got sweatier by the second.

you were quite nervous, but couldn't really understand why. maybe the sole thought of your father having his "happy ending" made you jealous because you knew that he did not deserve that at all; he didn't deserve the love he had.

the emotional abuse your mother and you suffered throughout your childhood and adolescence was not something that could be fixed in a month or two and you were certain about it. no matter how happy your father was, you couldn't help but to feel jealous about how he never had to suffer like you and your mother did.

and even though you got over your negative feelings towards him, the scars and aftermath of an abusive household still caught up on you: the mistrust, the negativity, the hostility and the lack of commitment were things you had to deal with on a daily basis.

of course he was the one to blame. but you were an adult now, and you were supposed to deal with all those issues by yourself. no one was going to fix them for you.

"jesus y/n, we are running late" hyejin busted the door open "are you ready now?"

"yes" you were quick to respond, grabbing the purse on your bed and trying to quickly divert from your sister's gaze.

"wait" she mumbled, gripping both of your shoulder as you intended to the leave the room "why are you tearing up?"

"i am not" you replied "i yawned"

she didn't look convinced, but still decided not to push any further "i'll meet you in the car, i just have to grab a few things"

you nodded and made your way through the hallway. because of how rushed she was, you didn't have a chance to tell hyejin how gorgeous she looked. she was wearing a golden shiny dress that embraced her body just fine and carrying a maching clutch with it. she was really pretty, maybe the prettiest woman you had ever seen, and not only that but she was also very smart. any guy would be head over heels for her, but she still decided not to engage in a "silly love story" as she called them because "it is a waste of her precious time, and time is money"

you wished you had the same mentality as she did, but you grew up getting educated on how love was portrayed in books, movies and television. it was ironic how you were the first person on earth to deny that love actually existed, but you were still a hopeless romantic after all.

*

[changbin's pov]

"changbin, are you too far from the church?" haeun, his mother, asked desperately as changbin picked up the phone.

"i'm right outside" he grunted "i told you i was not going to be late"

"we are sitting on the second bench at the left of the altar" the old woman added "hurry up"

changbin hung up the phone and cursed under his breath. the weather today was maybe too nice for his own liking and his clothes were a bit too uncomfortable to be wearing them under the sun.

as quickly as he could, he closed the door of his car and started walking towards the entrance, making sure that the ceremony hadn't started just yet so he wouldn't make a scene.

"did you bring the gift?" jang-yeop inquired as he sat down next to him and changbin nodded "did you also bring your mother the pair of shoes?"

"yes" he responded "how long is this going to take?"

"40-45 minutes?" his father replied "i have no idea, what time is it?"

"7:02 p.m." haeun was quick to answer "now, the both of you shut up"

right after she mumbled those words, music started to sound on the church. changbin, being in a rush to get to his seat before the ceremony started, didn't notice that arthur was already standing up next to the altar and waiting for his soon-to-be wife. changbin's gaze was fixed on arthur, then it diverted into the bride walking down the aisle and then returned to arthur once again. he never thought about marriage or building a family. hell, he never thought about having a romantic relationship that would last longer than a few months actually. but as he grew older, and as he experienced new stuff, he wasn't sure if he still had the same mentality he used to have last year.

to changbin, arthur seemed genuinely happy. his half-lidded eyes along with that bright smile he was wearing indicated that the man was living one of the happiest days of his life. and as changbin witnessed that romantic scene, the question that popped up in the conversation he had with you last night grabbed his attention once again.

what exactly is stopping me from being happy?

and before he could respond himself with words, his eyes had already found the answer: standing on the bench at the right of the altar and wearing that promising dark red dress that could drive any man insane, the woman he never dreamed of looking just as beautiful as the very first day he met her.

not being able to have her completely.

*

[y/n's pov]

after the ceremony, a big party was held at a very elegant event hall located in one of the tallest buildings of seoul. you were not particularly excited about having to see arthur's side of the family, but you still managed to keep yourself together the whole time.

"you are wearing the red dress" a sudden voice whispered into your ear as you were counting the tables that were still missing their dinner plates, an order given by hyejin. you slightly turned around to meet changbin's breath dancing on your neck and nape, goosebumps filling every single inch of your skin due to the proximity.

"congratulations" you sighed "your vision is crystal clear"

"i have been watching you since the ceremony" changbin added "i can't help but think about how pretty you are going to look when you are taking that dress off for me"

a spark of electricity traveled around your whole body and directly into your core. you immediatly looked around and notice a few people who worked for arthur's company sitting not that far away from the both of us "do you really want to do this here?" you asked "aren't you scared of being caught by any of arthur's friends?"

"are you concerned about that now?" he chuckled "that didn't seem to bother you at the company's elevator"

"c'mon" you whispered, your back slightly pressing against his chest "i have to help hyejin with some stuff"

changbin slightly gripped your hand and guided you to the dancefloor that was crowded with couples dancing around "i am sure that she can handle all of this by herself"

before you could protest, you took out your phone and sent her a message with the information she asked for. you had no idea what changbin was up to, but you still decided to follow him.

changbin positioned his hands on your waist as he gracefully dragged you across the dancefloor, looking for a spot in the middle of the crowd so it would be easier for the two of you to get lost.

"you are spending the night at my place" he mumbled over the slow songs that were now playing. it wasn't a question nor a petition, it was an order.

"yeah right" you chuckled "if you are too desperate to fuck we can do that, but i am not fond of sleepovers"

the thought of you spending the night with him was terrifying, but you would've been lying if you said that you hadn't think about what it would be like to wake up next to his him.

"i wasn't asking" he responded. "tell me when you are ready to leave".

with a swift movement, your whole body was pressed against his, his hands resting on your lowerback as you both swinged from side to side, following the rythm of the song. this was a whole new side of him that you didn't know it existed, and you couldn't deny that you were loving every second of it.

"who thaught you how to dance, huh?" you asked, your gaze fixed on his eyes that looked even brighter because of all the lights adorning the hall.

"there is so much about me that you don't know" he replied.

"oh i know everything there is to know about you, changbin" you scoffed "but let's see if you can keep surprising me"

*

it wasn't even midnight but people were already starting to get completely intoxicated with alcohol. arthur had spent the night dancing with ara and, after she was done being the unofficial wedding planner, hyejin ended up getting wasted with the small group of friends she invited to the wedding. you, on the other hand, spent the night dancing with changbin and eating your dinner with him.

it was not unusual to see the both of you together since you spent too much time at the company, but tonight it was sort of different. the looks he gave you, the way you two danced for hours on end, the way he was treating you... it felt different, a little bit more personal and intimate. his parents probably noticed this too, since they made a lof of comments about "how happy they were about us being really good friends". if only they knew.

"i think i am ready" you said to changbin after telling hyejin that you were going to spend the night somewhere else. she nodded her head and agreed to say, if asked, that "you were at ryujin's" even when she wasn't invited to the wedding in the first place. you just smiled at her and nodded, not leaving without telling one of her sober friends to look out for her.

"don't worry" the pretty pale girl mumbled "she will stay at my house tonight"

you glanced over to arthur and ara who were still having the greatest time of their lives on the dancefloor, and proceeded to walk away from the party with changbin. "you parents will stay here?"

"yeah, they will leave in an hour or so" changbin replied "i told them that you wanted to go home and that i was going to drive you"

"perks of living alone i guess" you joked.

the walk through the empty corridors of the building felt eerie as the loud sound of the music were still ringing in your ears. even though you were walking on your own, you could still feel changbin's ablazing touch on your body and that only provoked your heartbeat to go even faster.

as you waited for the elevator to open their doors, changbin's lips unexpectedly crashed against yours. it wasn't a passionate kiss, and it wasn't rushed either. it was just a kiss, an innocent kiss, a kiss you give to your significant other as a demostration of how much you love them. his soft lips dragged against yours as his teeth bite softly your bottom lip, earning a small whine from you. his hands, that were now located into your waist, guided you to the insides of the elevator once the doors were opened.

"you look so beautiful tonight" he whispered interrupting, his breathing getting faster each second that passed by "i can't get you out of my head"

his lips left yours to meet the sensitive spots on your neck, peppering soft kisses all over the surface. your gaze found the reflection of the scene in the mirror of the elevator, looking at how changbin was tasting every inch of your skin with his eyes closed, his rushed hands traveling all the way from your waist to your lower back trying to memorize every single trace of your body.

"i don't want to hurt you tonight" he continued "no roughness, no pain, no petnames. i want to make you completely mine, in the most pure way"

and for the night, you agreed to let your feelings out and let go.

no fear and no mistrust, you were ready to face the overwhelming feelings that had been building up inside you since the day you met him.

even if you could potentially regret it later...

#stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids x reader #changbin x reader #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #skz oneshots #stray kids oneshots #seo changbin smut #kpop smut

[theredsuzuran]

Yandere Muzan x Reader

I apologize in advance for any grammatical errors, also for my crappy writing I hope It does not bore you lol. Slight mention of gore

It was the time of summer

A multitude of people hovering over one another in the vast space of the lively Asakusa city occupying the streets like tiny ants. Unfortunately it was same monotonous sight for kibutsuji Muzan progenitor of the morbid demon race, who seems to be roaming around uninterestingly looking for a suitable prey to hunt. The fleeting lives of mortals, their compassion, happiness, sorrow, pain held no value to him. They are pests who belong in the dirt or beneath his feet, inferior compare to a perfect being like himself. Nothing more than a tool that he won't hesitate to discard after his desires are fulfilled. All of a sudden his gaze felt upon a petite figure near a tailor shop, a large number of people gathering around her.

What's the matter, mister? Muzan inquired to a man next to him.

"if you are new definitely try her kimonos, now make way" the man said quickly as he rushed to the shop pushing all the people away. He was interested to know what the deal was about so he decided to stay for a while hoping it's worth the wait.

After a long delay muzan finally got the chance to view the women. As their eyes locked the dazzling city lights broader than the day itself felt dull in comparison for a moment, the once monochromatic world seems to change vibrantly with her luminous presence, As if goddess Amaterasu, the diety of sun herself have ascended from the heaven into the mortal realm. The demon lord stood there mesmerized by her breathtaking beauty, how can someone so close to perfection exist alongside those barbarians.

"How can I help you mister?" She questioned politely with her soft vocal. His endless thoughts were interrupted breaking the silence.

"Show me your kimonos"

And so his obsession started..

Days passed since his last encounter with the woman. He have come across numerous marvelous humans in everlasting lengthy life but never have his ruby eyes caught a glimpse of someone as alluring as her. The girl possesses an unique aura that differentiated her from the rest of the crowd, able to draw attention from the cold hearted creator of cannibalistic demons. At first muzan was just curious to know about that woman, possibly persuade her to become one of his underling because of the potentials she may carry. He frequently begun to visit her shop to but or sew different fabrics. Gaining basic information, like her name, likes and dislikes, etc. Her grandfather owned the tailor shop which sold finest quality garments from the beginning and were highly respected for their excellent tailoring. Continued by (y/n) at her family's will, who runs the shop with equal undying devotion.

She treated him with such kindness even though he was a ruthless demon not that she knew about it or let alone the existence of demons. The deepest corner of his dark heart illuminated with pure light whenever she was around and he came to the conclusion that she was the ray of sunshine he desires to perceive. Eversince he was cured from his fatal illness the only goal in his life was to conquer the sun which prevents him to achieve absolute perfection, in order to live an eternal and indestructible life or so he thought until that very day his eyes laid upon you. It would be stupid to think that demons are capable of experiencing love, concepts of feelings are completely foreign in their conciousness, it was more like obsession. His megalomania makes him believe he needs you no he wants you.

Alas, if only it was a fairytale. The king does not always gets what he desires and same goes for the demon lord when he finds out that his beloved darling already has a lover. As he witnessed the sight of you hugging your partner with passion. The way her eyes flutter infront of him when he caresses her cheeks making her turn away bashfully and how she hold his hand with her delicate ones while exchanging vows of love and loyalty towards each other made his blood boiled with fury. If anyone who can hold her fragile frame is none other but the demon lord himself yet there she was sharing intimacy with some filthy creature. His narcissistic self was put down with a lowlife, he cannot accept that his (y/n) was claimed someone else's. It was something he would never allow to happen.

"Kibutsuji san would you like to buy something today as well?" The women who now acknowledge his presence asked him cheerfully.

"Should I visit you later" a force smile graced on his pale features.

"Oh no, it's fine, let me introduce you to my fiancee" she said excitedly.

"Nice to meet you kibutsuji san" your fiancee said

"Pleasure to meet you as well" The demon scoffed under his breath but Kibutsuji was quite adamant he knew it was not hard to turn the tables anytime sooner as with a blink of an eye he can get rid of him by simply ordering his underlings without even hesitating to dirty his hands exclusive for his precious darling. But that was not what muzan was planning to do at all as his mind was engulfed with much sinister thoughts.

To insanity?

"You have been restless for a long time, what's wrong my child?" A man asked with a look of concern written all over his face looking straight at the figure of an anxious woman roaming around impatiently within the house.

"Its been a week father since he last wrote a letter to him" she mumbled softly disappointment painted across her features. The father could not help but laugh a little by her daughter's remark.

"Father please it is serious"

"I am sorry sweetheart but it might be that your fiancee is busy with wedding preparation" which made sense because the wedding would be taking place after three day and it was obvious that he was caught up with the arrangement. However there was a strange feeling inside her stomach which made her believe otherwise.

As the days passed the wedding day came close, with (y/n) still not receiving any message from her lover. Worried her to the core at this point all she wanted was to make sure of his safety as something constantly felt off. The guests came in one by one for the wedding ceremony but there was no sign of the groom.

It was getting unbearable for her to remain confined. Ignoring her father's request to stay inside she went outside in hope to check whether or not her lover was approaching but once again she was greeted with emptiness. Her eyes swell up with tears forming on both corners allowing her body to slowly hit the surface as she convinced herself that her lover will never come. The worst was yet to happen and before she could make any movement the ground beneath her feet started shaking and a shoji door opened consuming her into the darkness.

It was just the start of her miserable life under the demon's control.

"So you are finally awake", a sudden voice came echoing into her eyes as she slowly opened her eyes after regaining her consciousness. She moved her hands upwards in order to ease the headache only to find her hands tied up with shackles, a chilling sensation of overwhelming fear filled her entire senses as she remembered what happened prior.

"Where am I? Why am I chained?" Who are you?" she demanded furiously at the mysterious figure infront her which was now advancing at her direction from the dark corner of the dimly litted room.

"You are quite an impatient one?" The man gripped her chin roughly as her eyes protruded out with bewilderment.

"Can't even remember your daily customer?" A wicked smile curved across his countenance.

"K..Kibutsuji san" she parted her lips. Tears forming in her eyes once again. This made muzan even more irritated as he tightened his grip on her chin. (Y/n) whimpered with pain crying out loud.

"Your shouting won't help dear nobody apart from me can hear you scream" he said bluntly with his cold apathetic voice.

"Why?" (Y/n) lowered her head down holding his hand with her delicate ones trying her best to get a hold of him.

"Pardon?" Muzan inquired as he stared at your quivering form with his souless eyes there was no empathy in them or whatsoever although he felt pity. He cannot deny the fact that he was indeed attracted to her that's the reason why he put her into so much hassles.

"Where is my lover?" She asked sternly with her voice shaking a bit.

"Oh" muzan responded his hand still holding her chin tightly. This made her even more anxious she was unaware of the power he might possess and definitely she didn't had any intentions to risk her life.

"Why can't you humans move on and accept circumstances given before you?" it startled her as she cannot process what he meant.

"I don't.. u..understand" she said.

"Then you have to learn to accept me as your partner" muzan replied coldly (y/n) sat there looking at him with disbelief her heart and soul belonged to someone else and for a long time they have been together it's absolutely impossible to change the reality she was accustomed with just because some maniac wants to make her his partner.

"I can never" she murmured with disgust hinted in her voice. "I love him" throwing daggers in his direction not ready to submit her futile attempts of protest should pissed the demon lord even more but to her surprise she saw him smiling menacingly and in the corner of her eyes she saw the figure of her debilitate lover.

"Start from his fingers" muzan ordered one of his subordinate as they began chopping one of his finger making him scream in pain.

"No! please don't hurt him" trying to break free from the shackles she was tied with realizing it was fruitless she fell on the demon's knee begging with all the strength left within her in a last desperate attempt.

"You left me with no other choice, dear" he explained playing his sick games of manipulation on her. This was exactly what he needed to break her mind and she cannot help but rely on him pleading for his forgiveness feeding on his massive ego providing him ultimate satisfaction to witness the quivering frame of his darling clinging onto his knee in pure submission.

"Please I will do anything you say" she requested shaking like crazy.

"Anything?" Muzan questioned raising his eyebrow

"Yes" she replied without any hesitation.

"Be mine"

She already knew that he wanted this and she readily obliged in order to save her beloved, sacrificing her own life. Her only purpose was now to satisfy the demon lord, he was successful until the very end and it won't take long to make her completely his.

#kimetsu no yaiba #kny muzan #muzan kibutsuji #demon lord #demon slayer #demon #muzan kibutsuji x reader #kimetsu no yaiba muzan #muzan x reader #anime

[miss-tc-nova]

Events Unchanged - Xehanort x Eraqus

So THIS is my final piece for the @checkmate-zine. I had a blast writing it and it’s probably one of my favorite pieces I’ve ever written. Please check out the other creators on this project because they are all absolutely amazing.​

Music Inspiration: End In Tragedy and MIssing You by Set It Off

Art by my queen @kingdomcarrots​

~~~~~

               The castle looms over the young man. This being his first stop, he’s not entirely sure he’s in the right place, or rather, the right time. The description of the place matches up, but he could be anywhere from minutes to decades off with no idea how to tell. Additionally, if he’s jumped even a minute too far, that complicates the whole plan.

               With really no other choice, he climbs the steps to the front door, letting himself in. He’d heard a little of this place, seen a few paragraphs in books, but the Land of Departure is such a small world compared to Scala Ad Caelum. However, this is very obviously an off-shoot of the Scala training school; the only real difference lies in the missing inhabitants. Such spacious halls lack the chatter of students and staff despite the well-kept appearance.

               “Identify yourself.”

               He stops. That gruff voice rumbles with the faintest hint of familiarity. Curiosity piqued, the young man turns back.

               It has to be him; it couldn’t be anyone else. Aside from that traditional style and the Master’s Defender prepared to strike, Xehanort could never mistake those eyes and no amount of hostility could mislead him. There’s no doubt now that Xehanort is far into the future, not while he stares at the aged face of the man Eraqus is to become.

               He looks worn, as if the years have been long and hard and those scars prove nearly as much. That welcoming cheer from their very first meeting has been replaced by sheer apprehension, likely caused by his arduous life. It seems he’s become the soldier his parents always pushed him to be; and yet, surely, he can’t have forgotten his beloved.

               Cautious hands lift to push the hood back and reveal the face hiding beneath.

               Shock takes over the old warrior’s expression. “Xehanort?!”

               “Eraqus.” It’s all Xehanort can come up with in his uncertainty.  

               “How is this possible?!” Resumed suspicion reaffirms that fighting stance.

               First and foremost, Xehanort has a mission, one that could potentially fix everything that went wrong in their lives. They could have everything they lost, including the happiness stripped from them far too soon. Additionally, this is Eraqus, the one who saved Xehanort from self-destruction and gave him the motivation to do all these incredible things. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do to ensure Eraqus’s happiness. However, the stubborn blueblood often disapproved of Xehanort’s methods as of late and perhaps that’s only gotten worse as the years passed—perhaps plans should be kept quite even from one’s most precious. Having been caught here in the future, Young Xehanort must pick carefully which truths to divulge.

               A soft exhale calms the nerves. “I’m from the past,” the traveler confesses. “Brought here by the version of me from this time.”

               “How? What for?” Eraqus demands. “What proof do you have for any of this?”

               “I can’t say how or why but…”

               A well-seasoned Master Eraqus is probably not a fight Xehanort wants to pick, but he’ll need something personal to convince this man of the truth. He knows just the memory, but it’s not pleasant.

               Xehanort’s gaze drops to the floor. “You once caught me on the roof of the citadel. You told me…that if I couldn’t find a reason not to step off, then you would make one.”

               Eraqus’s mouth presses into a thin line; they never told anyone of that incident.

               “So what are you doing here?”

               Shaking off morbid memories, Xehanort replies, “Like I said, I can’t tell you that, but I need to find myself from this time. Is he here?”

               Eraqus wears a heavy pity that agitates Xehanort—he may still be young with much to learn, but he’s never taken kindly to pity.

               “You don’t know anything. You just left, didn’t you…”

               “I left Scala several hours ago,” the youth says. That empathy grows. “Why?”

               “You…Your older self doesn’t come by often.”

               This is unexpected. Even as he left, Xehanort fully intended to visit his significant other once he got things set in motion. Besides, Xehanort is greedy—he knows it. He’s got only the sparsest restraint when it comes to indulging in his partner’s presence, so this statement by the man at the heart of that avarice makes no sense.

               “Why not?” Xehanort is not going to remain calm if that look of condolence continues. “When does he come by?”

               There’s a solemn shake of the old man’s head. “He doesn’t.”

               “What do you mean he doesn’t?!” Xehanort barks, leather creaking with tightened fists. “He has to come visit you! He wouldn’t leave forever—not when you’re the person most important to him!”

               The outburst does nothing against Eraqus’s empathy. “I’m sorry. Once you left, we started to view things differently. There were things we simply couldn’t agree on.”

               “Then why didn’t you stop me?!”

               “Nothing I said would’ve convinced you to stay.”

               “No!” he shouts. “There’s no excuse! You should have stopped me! If me leaving made you so miserable, you shouldn’t have let me go! You should have cried or begged or even beat me over the head—whatever it took to make me stay!”

               Tears form in the man’s eyes and that unwanted compassion pushes Xehanort past his threshold. With renewed determination, he stalks past the elder to resume the search for his future self.

               A strong fist catches around the young man’s wrist. “Where are you going?”

               His answer is short, sharp. “To do what I came here to do.”

               For the third time, Eraqus presses, “And what would that be?”

               Xehanort glowers. With a vague restraint in his voice, he spits, “I’m a time traveler; what do you think I’m doing here?”

               “You can’t do that! There must be consequences to meddling with the timeline!” protests the elder.

               “YOU THINK I DON’T KNOW THAT?!” the young man roars. “YOU THINK THIS IS JUST SOME STROLL IN THE PARK FOR ME?! OF COURSE I’M TRYING TO CHANGE WHAT HAPPENED AND I DON’T GIVE A FUCK WHAT IT COSTS! IT COULD COST MY LIFE AND I WOULDN’T GIVE A DAMN! THEY DESERVED BETTER! YOU—” Fury falters as the words catch in his throat and the edges of his vision blurs. “You deserve better.”

               Guilt resonates on that marred face; this is why Xehanort never told him. Eraqus had said a million times over that what happened wasn’t Xehanort’s fault, but a deep sadness settled in Eraqus’s heart that was clear to the Seeker. For Xehanort, the loss of his friends was already unbearable enough, but to have the love of his life stuffing down his turmoil behind a flighty façade tipped the scales. So now he’s here.

               With a look of defeat, Eraqus pleads, “Don’t do this. Please.”

               “I’m doing this for you.” Again, the older master begins to argue, but the younger has had enough and pulls away. “You couldn’t stop me then, and based on what I’ve seen today, you can’t stop me now. Take care of yourself.”

               With that, Xehanort leaves.

                 It’s been a few hours since the confrontation, but Xehanort still hasn’t found a single clue to the whereabouts of his present self. He’s hopped a few worlds and even double checked those he’d been drawn to in the past, but nothing comes up. Worst of all, something is pulling him back to the Land of Departure. He can’t shake the feeling that, no matter what Eraqus says, Xehanort would return to him eventually. They must still love each other or else he wouldn’t be here.

               His arrival is noiseless and unnoticed, but with each step closer to the castle, he hears the escalating sounds of a battle. Peering around a pillar across from the castle steps, Xehanort sees Eraqus squaring off with a young, brunette man.

               As he watches, Xehanort notices enough between the two to speculate that there’s a clearly straining relationship. Considering the use of darkness by the younger man and Eraqus’s violent abhorrence of it, Xehanort assumes that’s the cause of the clash. The winner would be an easy call if it were a simple fight, but that boost of darkness significantly closes the gap; so it comes as a surprise when the younger warrior rushes past Eraqus, causing him to stumble. It takes every bit of self-control Xehanort has not to act on protective urges as the Master’s Defender falls from its wielder’s hand.

               Terra, as named by Eraqus, is upset with his success. He cries over it, but his master is the one to apologize, admitting that his own heart is full of darkness. That declaration plays in the gray area of Xehanort’s mind. He already knows Eraqus is a good man with his heart bound to the light. What he doesn’t understand is that light, too, can make mistakes—mistakes which may beget darkness. Xehanort has tried explaining this before, but the noble would have none of it.

               A dark figure at the top of the stairs catches Young Xehanort’s eye too late. A blaring ring fills his ears seeing that man aim a familiar weapon. There’s no time to react; he’s too far away to do anything. Before Xehanort’s very eyes, the man he loves, and should have always loved, fades.

               With the reality of what happened beginning to sink in, his eyes focus on the man strolling down the steps. Anger ignites in his heart until he hears Terra question the stranger.

               “Master Xehanort! Why?”

               Master Xehanort—that man, the very person who killed his beloved Eraqus, is Xehanort himself.

               A dark storm swallows the sky, mirroring the wrath churning in the young man’s chest. With nothing but that rage guiding him, he rushes after the assassin into the dark portal. This new land is empty and barren save the mass of foreboding keyblades strewn about, but Xehanort has other concerns right now. Waiting just outside his attack range is the murderer.

               That man’s voice is filled with the gravel of age, but no remorse can be detected. “I wondered when you would arrive.”

               “You killed Eraqus.” Fists tremble at the young man’s sides, that quivering creeping into his chest.

               “I did.” Only a man scorned like Young Xehanort could withstand those chilling yellow eyes.

               Furious, he yells back, “That’s it?! That’s all you have to say?! How could you?! He was the only reason I didn’t throw myself off the citadel! HE’S THE REASON YOU STILL EXIST!”

               “Ah, the foolishness of my youth.” His casual dismissal drives the young Seeker’s heart rate up.  “It’s true he’s the reason I exist today, but Eraqus’s departure was necessary. You know firsthand how loyal his heart is to the light.”

               The response tears from his throat. “AND THAT’S JUSTIFICATION TO MURDER HIM?!”

               “He just didn’t understand that this is all for him, to create the life that he should’ve had. You knew there were consequences to meddling with time.”

               With no comeback, the young adult sneers, but the old master has one last remark that cuts to the quick.

               “As you said: they deserved better—he deserves better.”

               The words spoken just hours ago, shoved back in his face, incite the anguish burning in his heart. Rationality devolves and Young Xehanort charges his future self.

               All his life, Xehanort let his mind dictate his path. Moves were not made without thought to the consequences, but this—this is something beyond even the purpose of this mission and everything in him is screaming for revenge. Grief and anger cloud his judgement and spur attacks too straightforward to connect, however, that sloppiness doesn’t discourage him.

               Old Xehanort swipes, successfully disarming his younger self, and with the same ruthlessness shown to his former love, he eliminates the man from the past.

               Golden eyes meet gold; even as he’s being dragged back into his own time, the young man emanates his fury.

               Unbothered by the turn of events, the victor simply states, “One day, you will understand.”

~~~~~

               The elder watches his past self disappear among the shadows. It’s unfortunate how naïve he was, but this was to be expected—he and Eraqus had been so in love. Xehanort still possesses those feelings, which is why the decision had been so difficult. There’s a hole in his heart but he understands that sometimes things must be broken for them to become better and that’s the sort of thing the Seeker is betting on.

               In lieu of these unfortunate circumstances, he’s going to have to prepare a backup—to persuade his young self into venturing into the future a second time.

               As the thought occurs, darkness flares from the ground, creating a portal from which steps the young man that just tried to smite him. He’s more prepared than he gave himself credit for. He beckons the young man to follow to discuss the details of their plan. Even as they speak, the senior can see a spark in the new master’s eyes. There’s a curiosity that he will no doubt seek answers for.

               “How is Eraqus?”

               He should’ve known.

               Enacting his hard-earned skill of smothering his emotions, the old man answers, “Eraqus is dead.”

               The youth freezes, clearly distraught. “How?”

               A deep breath conveys true sorrow while concealing the lie. “The same as the others.”

               Hard determination grows on the young man’s face. Knowing that look and knowing himself, old Master Xehanort has ensured his ignorant self’s unquestionable devotion to the mission.

~~~~~

               Despair shakes his heart, waking the young man. Opening heavy eyelids, Young Xehanort finds a room illuminated with soft moonlight. Although this is not his room, it’s still familiar. Normally this place would bring him some solace but the discomfort he feels is intense.

               Whatever this is, it’s akin to a nightmare, slipping from his grasp as he tries to remember; it’s confusing and upsetting and damn near painful. Xehanort has had days where getting up for training was hard, he’s been injured so badly he’s been unable to stand, and he’s suffered unending fatigue at the hands of depression; but none of that compares to the sheer heartache of this moment and he doesn’t even understand why.

               Gentle humming draws his gaze lower and he immediately chokes down a whimper. Pressed flush against him is the love of his life, peacefully snoring away. Even with his messy hair and a little drool, he’s absolutely beautiful. No sight could be more stunning and yet, it’s also the most painful. Whatever vice is clenching down on Xehanort’s heart has to do with Eraqus.

               Of course, Xehanort’s always had those fears that maybe he can’t make Eraqus happy or that maybe he’s not good enough—as quoted by the noble’s parents—but even those feel so trivial compared to this dread. It breaks him more than anything ever has.

               His quivering is impossible to stifle and sniffles begin sneaking past his defense. To make matters worse, his sleeping partner stirs.

               “Xehanort?” Such a sweet sound worsens the turmoil. “Xe, what’s wrong?”

               There it is: the first hiccup that destroys the weary dam holding everything in and he breaks down right there.

               Eraqus doesn’t press for an answer but instead holds his sweetheart tightly. With the unknown sorrow flooding his system, Xehanort sobs into his boyfriend’s chest, desperately hoping to get this misery under control before he has to say goodbye to Eraqus in the morning.

#xehanort #eraqus #young xehanort #xehaqus #checkmate-zine #kh zine

[ymiwritesstuff]

yes!!! i’m glad your requests are open!!! could i please get a revali x reader (fem preferred but idc ig) thats kinda angsty as revali has a rito gf but can tell he’s falling for the reader as she falls for him ?

Heyy thanks for the request, I’m incredibly sorry that you had to wait. I also hope that this didn’t get confusing as I worked on this on and off for a long period of time and as you can see, it got quite long. Still, I hope you enjoy.

Beloved

The Legend of Zelda: Breath of The Wild

Revali x Reader

Summary: A new discovery about Revali leaves you distraught and confused, your feelings toying with you and influencing your behavior in the worst ways.

Notes: Angst

The day was as good as it could be. The sky was clear, the air was just the right temperature and the pleasant aroma of the spruces surrounding the village pleasantly tingled in your nostrils as you made your way up the wooden stairs. The princess had kindly asked you to visit the village, wanting to make sure each Divine Beast was functioning properly and you accepted her request, though a bit reluctantly.

The village itself was among the most stunning places in the Kingdom, that wasn’t the issue. Rather, a certain someone had always stuck out to you in a troublesome way. Those emerald eyes mockingly staring at you, those wings that so gracefully carried him through the air, and that irritating and condescending tone in his voice, all that annoyed you to no end, yet you found yourself at the village time and time again and the more time you spent in his line of vision, the less irritating he seemed to become.

At first, you couldn’t stand him and his arrogance. No matter what he did or said he managed to somehow anger you, but over time, you learned to filter his words, and more recently, you found yourself rolling your eyes at him, unbothered by his constant ramblings about himself. And you didn’t know why. Perhaps you had simply gotten used to his demeanor, but there had to be something more as every time your gaze fell upon him, you felt strange, nervous even.

You went through these thoughts as you made your way to his landing, expecting to see him there as the day would soon turn to the night and despite his passion for archery, even he knew when to rest. You caught a glimpse of those navy feathers and lifted your gaze towards him, witnessing his landing, graceful as ever. The previous thoughts faded away and a small smile crept onto your face as you picked up your pace, Revali quickly noticing your presence.

“Here once again? Let me guess, the Princess sent you,” He said, that familiar tone present in his voice, though it hadn’t vexed you in a long time. You briefly laughed at his guess that had hit the bullseye and rolled your eyes playfully.

“Yep.” You stopped in front of him. “So, anything to report?” These visits had become quite frequent over the past few weeks due to Zelda’s understandable paranoia towards the Calamity, and though you despised them initially, you soon found out that they weren’t as burdensome and tiring as you thought.

Revali brought his wing to his chin and appeared to be in thought, though you both already knew the answer. The Rito was skilled and had no doubt forged a strong bond with his Divine Beast so he facing any issues with it was very unlikely. His eyes then locked onto you, the tiniest smirk tugging one side of his beak.

“Everything is in working order. You and the Princess have absolutely nothing to worry about.” His answer didn’t surprise you in the slightest and upon hearing it, you merely sighed lightly.

“That’s good. I’ll let her know that there are no abnormalities regarding Medoh.”

You immediately glance at the beast that still roamed around the sky thanks to the impressive technology it was fueled by. It never ceased to amaze you. Your (E/C) eyes then moved to him, the mere sight of him making you experience that bizarre feeling you couldn’t describe once again. Despite his ego that was bigger than the entirety of the kingdom itself, he had worked incredibly hard for his achievements and if you were truly honest with yourself, he had every right to be as cocky as he was.

“I’ll do that. Now the-”

“And what of you? The Princess also wishes to know of everyone’s condition. Just in case.”

It was a lie. However, you couldn’t bring yourself to ask about his well-being on your own. He’d never stop taunting you about it. Revali raised his brow slightly and crossed his wings, that prideful aura still emitting from him.

“You can let her know that I am indeed in fine condition.” You lightly smiled at that, delighted to hear that he at least externally was doing fine.

“Revali!”

Both of you turned towards the unknown voice and you saw an unknown female Rito approaching you, her gaze firmly glued on Revali. Your brows frowned in confusion at the sight of the teal-colored Rito who got closer, her amber eyes glowing in excitement.

You were about to say something but when the girl threw her wings around Revali’s torso catching you and him both completely off guard, a wave of shock and confusion hit you like a bomb arrow.

“Nika! What do you think you’re doing?!” Revali asked, completely surprised at the female’s action, a rare expression of embarrassment plastered across his face as she hugged him. The only thing you could do was stare at them, completely and utterly speechless at the sight.

Who was she?!

“Oh, sorry!” She quickly pulled away, allowing the flustered navy blue Rito to take a deep breath and internally deal with the heavy blow to his ego.

“I forgot that you don’t like it when I hug you like that in public.” Nika giggled slightly, the sight of Revali’s feathers puffed up greatly amusing her but only filling you with more bafflement. Nika quickly turned her eyes towards you.

“Oh, who’s this?” She asked, more so from Revali than you. After regaining his composure that was so easily broken, Revali turned to look at you once more.

“Oh, I see!” She stepped forward and extended her wing, which you slowly shook, dying to hear her introduction but also dreading it.

“This is (Name). An acquaintance of mine.” The word he used, ‘acquaintance’, it didn’t feel right.

“She’s an accomplished researcher, the Princess sent her to assess the condition of the Divine Beast.” You had never heard him speak so highly of you before and as much as it would have delighted you, you couldn’t feel even an ounce of joy at that moment. You were more focused on trying to figure out the identity of this female Rito who stayed close to him as he spoke.

“It’s nice to meet you, (Name). I’m Nika, Revali’s beloved.”

Nika smiled and let go of your hand that had gotten cold due to... something. What was this? Your eyes fell on the wooden surface of the landing, this unexplainable sensation spreading throughout your entire being like Malice.

As soon as those words left her beak, you instantly felt something. Something... Painful. As if you were pierced with a Royal Halberd after a bombardment of arrows. You swallowed, unsure how to react.

“Oh... It’s nice to meet you too.” That was all you could say as her sudden words hitting you a lot more harshly than you thought.

“It’s getting dark,” you heard Revali say, his gaze landing on the horizon behind which the sun was setting. “It’d be best if we settled in for the night,” he stated, to which the Rito next to him nodded and began walking, most likely towards their shared hut.

You finally looked up at Revali. “It’s unfortunate you had to meet her like that, I didn’t expect her to cling onto me so... enthusiastically.”

His words didn’t exactly make you feel any better, but you tried your best to stay calm regardless.

And that’s how you met her. The one Revali called his one and only. You couldn’t understand why it had shocked you so. Why were you so bothered by all this? The strange feeling of sadness you couldn’t comprehend followed you like a Hylian Retriever clinging to its owner. It was unbearable. The way he looked at her, the way he spoke to her, it was unlike you had ever heard or seen and the more of that you experienced, the more it saddened you. It took you some time, but you eventually understood the reason for this arduous feeling. Those actions of love weren’t directed at you.

“It’s... It’s fine. I’ll probably go now. It’s been a rough day.” Your voice had gotten significantly quieter and you could only hope Revali didn’t notice it. Fortunately, he nodded at your statement.

“Indeed.”

He turned away from you, ready to join his beloved. “I expect you to return soon, knowing the Princess, she most likely won’t stop fussing about the Divine Beasts until Calamity Ganon is defeated.” He glanced at you.

“So, until then, I’m afraid you’ll have to enjoy my presence a bit longer.” And with that, he left, not that you were surprised, he did so often. This time, however, you felt lonely as your eyes lingered on him for as long as they could before he disappeared into his hut, through which you could have sworn you saw him embrace his... Beloved.

It was impossible to look forward to the trips to Rito Village because you knew you’d see them together for even a brief moment. It was not Nika’s fault, no. She was a kind Rito and you didn’t need to wonder for too long why Revali was so fond of her. You were the one to blame. For allowing yourself to develop such feelings for him. If you had realized them sooner, perhaps it wouldn’t have hurt so much. All you wanted, was to feel his wings around you just like she did, to see those stunning emerald eyes look at you with affection, just like they looked at her. It was impossible, you knew this, yet you allowed the feelings to linger within you, only for them to hurt you even more.

You flop onto the ground with a heavy sigh after defeating a group of Lizalfos that were threatening Zora’s Domain. Breathing heavily, you wipe the sweat off your forehead with your sleeve and catch your breath, the Zora Champion slowly approaching you.

“Is something the matter?” The Princess asks, her soft voice and oddly specific question making you look at her.

“No... I’m alright,” you say, still catching your breath. Mipha kneels down beside you, checking for any possible wounds you may have suffered as she does.

“Usually something heavy weighs down on someone when they fight this ruthlessly,” she says, glancing at the rather brutally defeated monsters that she herself didn’t even get to fight.

She had noticed your merciless attacks and the way you flung your weapon. The Princess had never seen someone defeat their foe in such a ferocious way. In truth, you took your anger out on just about anything that wasn’t a Hyrulean. You kept the feelings bottled up and it was only a matter of time till someone noticed your distress. And the Zora beside you did.

“I’m not asking you to tell me what’s bothering you. But... I’m here. If you need someone to talk to.”

You glance at Mipha, her eyes shining with the most genuine form of kindness you had ever seen. She had her own share of worries, yet she was ready to put them aside and help. Her soft voice filled you with a temporary calm you hadn’t felt in weeks. Her mere presence was already helping.

You briefly look down, going over your situation. Keeping everything inside was already killing you, and with Mipha’s calming presence next to you, the words just come out of your mouth:

“I... I’m in love with someone. But... They already have someone to call their... beloved."

The word had stuck to you, and digging into your being like a sword, yet you let it slip from your lips. Mipha listens carefully, your words hitting her quite significantly. You didn’t know this, but the Zora Princess understands your predicament well.

“How do you possibly cope with that, Mipha? Every time I see them, I can’t help but feel hurt. I can’t get over him...”

“We all have our roles to fulfill, (Name).” She places her trident down and you feel her hand land on your shoulder. Her touch is gentle, much like the healing power she possessed.

“Sometimes... We have to accept the truth. No matter how much it hurts.” You feel like crying. Her words are sincere and you know them to be true, but you can’t bring yourself to accept them.

Your (E/C) eyes fall to the ground below you.

“But how? How can I possibly come to terms with it?” You look at her again, your eyes filled with desperation. You wanted to overcome this, you really did, but it was far easier said than done.

“The only one who’s in your way is you (Name). If you can’t conquer yourself, you will have no hope of accepting the truth. It is difficult to look at someone you love to be so close to someone else, but if you cannot put that behind for the sake of your own well-being, the pain will only increase.”

Mipha’s own eyes glance at the ground, her own pain with the similar situation weighing on her heart.

“Trust me... I know.”

Her words stick to you, slowly replacing the unpleasant thoughts that had roamed within you for so long. You turn to her, an empathetic glow apparent in your eyes.

“Thank you, Mipha. Guess your words also have healing properties.”

“However, there’s always hope. And you should never give up on it.”

A smile tugged the ends of her lips as she spoke, her expression reflecting her words perfectly. The soothing words that left her mouth gave you hope that you thought you had lost and that unbearable sadness turned into something else. You couldn’t help but smile at the Princess.

She lightly giggled at that as you both began making your way back to the Domain.

~

An exhale that appeared in the cold air as a faint cloud left your mouth as you let go of the arrow, aiming at one of the targets of the Flight Range. You lowered your bow to witness where the arrow would hit, hoping it would land on the center of the wooden target. But alas, it missed the middle by a tiny bit, causing you to let out a sigh of disappointment and frustration, though it was fortunate you managed to hit the target at all since the powerful winds often messed with the flight of any arrow. Still, your ambitious side wanted to hit the bullseye more than anything, so you grabbed another arrow, ready to try again.

“Don’t even try it. You won’t even come close to hitting that target,” Revali said behind you. For a moment, in the midst of intense focus, you had completely forgotten his presence.

After the conversation with Mipha, approaching Revali had become slightly easier. You could talk to him without the constant feeling of envy or sadness, though it did partially enter your being every time your eyes caught a glimpse of teal-colored feathers. You couldn’t be mad at Nika, she hadn’t done anything wrong, so you tried your best to remain calm and friendly whenever she was around, but oh boy, was it difficult.

You lowered your bow and looked at him after rolling your eyes.

“Thanks for the encouragement.”

Turning away from him and facing the target once again, you were about to continue your attempt. Only to get interrupted once again.

“Well if you insist on shooting with an incorrect stance, don’t let me stop you.” In the middle of his sentence, you fired again, but this time didn’t look at where the arrow landed and instead turned towards him again, his words catching you off guard.

“Stance? What do you mean?”

Your brows frown at him, confusion painting itself on a canvas that was your face. He lets out a sigh and walks beside you, taking out his infamous Great Eagle Bow and drawing it.

One of your frowning brows raises up as you watch him, noting how inhumanly steady his grip was as he releases an arrow, which lands on the center of the target you had been attempting to conquer. He smirks at his small achievement and turns to you. How typical of him.

His words puzzled you. Despite the fact that they were coated in his usual sarcasm and arrogance, he had never sincerely given you such words of advice. Sure, he liked to bathe in the statements of fame he dedicated to himself, but hearing him actually providing his guidance was extremely peculiar. Strangely, it made you smile.

“The way you hold your bow is rather... Amateurish, to say the least.”

He placed his wings behind his back and kept his emerald eyes on you. His words had little effect on you and you found yourself lightly rolling your eyes at them as he continued:

“The reason as to why you keep missing is simply because your grip on your bow is unstable.” You glance at your hand that was still holding your weapon, the cold sensation caused by the low temperature tingling on your fingertips quite uncomfortably.

“Thank you for the advice, Revali,” you say as you draw your bow again, paying close attention to your grasp on the wooden material, making sure to keep your previously shaky hand under control. Your hand stays relatively steady and your confidence begins to bloom even under a sharp pair of emerald eyes.

Revali steps away from you, allowing you to finally release the arrow after taking a deep breath. It flies through the cold air and your eyes follow it anxiously, hoping that it would finally hit the center of the target that had been cleverly avoiding you for the past few hours. Your (E/C) eyes widen when the arrow hits the target, and this time, it had hit the place you had wanted. Immediately a smile creeps onto your face.

“Relax your shoulders,” you hear him say, just as you are about to release the arrow. You throw a brief glance at him before allowing your shoulders to relax slightly. This apparently isn’t enough for the Champion, however, as he approaches you, placing a single wing on one of your shoulders, immediately making your eyes widen a bit.

“The key to a successful shot with a bow is the right stance, which is not as simple as someone like you would think.”

His wing pushes your shoulder down slightly, which allows you to relax the muscles, and suddenly, the likelihood of you hitting the bullseye is increased.

Upon turning towards the navy blue Rito once more, your eyes catch an expression that seems to be a mixture of surprise and rare awe. A small smirk makes its way on your features as you look at him.

“Well? How do you like that?”

Your head tilts in the direction of the target that now had two arrows in the middle. Revali lets out a scoff and a laugh.

“I am mildly impressed. Hitting a still target on the ground is in no way a difficult task.”

You find yourself once again rolling your eyes at him as you know that what he says hides what he truly means. That’s the most important lesson you had learned when in his company.

“However,”

He takes a few steps towards you, his wings once more crossed behind his back. “You somehow managed to do it with that.”

His wing points at your bow, which immediately causes you to look at it, only to notice a crack on the wooden surface. “It’s... Broken?”

“Don’t tell me you expect me to oversee everything you do with a bow. If only your eyes were more perceptive, you may have been able to noti-”

“Indeed. I noticed from the moment you first attempted to shoot with it."

You lift your gaze to him.

“You knew it was broken from the start? Why didn’t you say anything?”

Confusion mixed with slight irritation coats your voice as you look at him, noticing him smirking once more as he turns his back to you, increasing the distance between you two as his talons sink into the shallow coat of snow.

His words that were coated in a condescending tone come to a halt when he feels something hitting his back rather harshly. A noise left his beak and he turns around, only to see you with your arms crossed, a mischievous grin stretching your lips, and a small area of snow that looked as if it was missing a piece. Revali’s eyebrows frowned as he swiped the remaining snow off his back, a slight wave of annoyance at the unexpected snowball flowing through him.

“I didn’t expect someone like you to act so utterly childishly.”

Your rolled your eyes, unwilling to let his words affect you, though they already had.

“Well, it was your childish blabbering that caused this in the first place. So technically, this is your own fault.”

Your smirk remains on your face as you purposely, and admittedly childishly, fire back at him.

“I was merely having fun.” You look at him and notice his expression change. It’s a change so microscopic you almost miss it, but something in his eyes indicate that the tone of the conversation was changing.

“At least I know how to have fun.” 

“What a ridiculous way to have fun.”

Revali walked past you, his wings once again behind his back. This time, his voice sounded different, a strange spike of anger in it that didn’t go unnoticed and certainly didn’t help the situation or ease your own growing pique.

“And you are saying I don’t?”

You crossed your arms. “Clearly not. Judging by your attitude.”

He scoffed mockingly. “I’ll have you know, I have plenty of ways to spend my time in a meaningful way, that do not involve childish games.”

“Oh, I’m sure you do! When you have someone like her in your life!”

The words that shot out of your mouth almost accidentally linger in the air and echo around the Flight Range, the harsh meaning behind them making Revali look at you, utter confusion and surprise twisting his feathery features. You blink a couple of times, your mind realizing what you had allowed to slip from your lips, and for a moment, you hope that he somehow hadn’t heard your words.

Revali looks at you, then at the ground, processing what he heard. It was true that he had noticed shifts and changed in his feelings the more time he spent with you. The times he would steal a glance at you, knowing it was in a way forbidden due to Nika. You were right, he did have a meaningful life with her, and that seemed to pain him the most. Revali noticed your expression and immediately understood that what you had said had plagued you and weighed on your being for a long time. Still, your words pierced him like a poisoned arrow. He loved Nika, but at the same time, his heart seemed to feel complete when he was in your presence.

“Revali... I...” The words of vindication and apology get stuck in your throat, unwilling to come out as if they know that there is no way to explain your sudden burst of emotion. You wanted to say you didn’t mean it, but that would have been a lie. Jealousy had twisted your mind little by little and you failed to push your feelings aside. You hung your head in defeat, understanding that there was little to do to save the situation. Your feelings were exposed and what would happen next was out of your hands.

After a grueling silence, the Rito finally spoke, his eyes holding a glow of sorrow and disappointment: “I’d better get going back. Back to-”

“Your beloved.” You finished his sentence as a heartbreaking indicator that you understood how much the teal-colored Rito meant to him. He glanced at you but quickly moved his emerald eyes away from your form as the mere sight of you was enough to claw at his insides. A nod was all he could offer as he prepared to leave. He crouched down and took off, leaving you in the midst of the snow that sprinkled around you.

Your eyes dampened with tears as the being you loved slipped away from reach, his saddened eyes not daring to look back as he flew towards the direction where the being he loved was, conflicted by his feelings he didn’t fully realize he had.

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