#I’m losing my mind it isn’t like I want you to buy me twenty things in one birthday
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Don’t! Ask! For! My! List! If! You’re! Gonna! Complain! About! How! Much! Is! On! It!
#txt#most of it I’m not gonna get for the holidays and my birthday! it’s for me to remember so I can save up for it myself!#but as I don’t know what someone might buy me! it all has to go on one list!#I’m losing my mind it isn’t like I want you to buy me twenty things in one birthday#you don’t even have to get me anything!!! I wasn’t gonna ask you for anything if you didn’t bring it up yourself!!!#there are things on there that are like twenty dollars smh
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YOU’VE GOT THE CURE (EVERYTHING I NEED) | B. KATSUKI.
✮ tags ; gn + afab!reader, soft dom!reader, sub!bakaugou, developing relationships, mutual pining and ambiguous relationships, anal play (m!recieving), dry orgasms, p in v, unprotected sex, 18+
✮ wc ; 6.7k
✮ a/n ; an anon comission from a beloved mutual im posting. also just dropping in to say hello
✮ synopsis ; katsuki is too fucking young to have erectile dysfunction, damn it.
“Hey.”
“Hm?”
The sound of your typing is especially loud in the empty office. It’s a Saturday and neither of you are supposed to be clocked in, but when duty calls - it’s up to the two of you to answer.
“...I’m going to tell you something. If you so much as fucking laugh I will kill you.”
You don’t look up from your screen.
“Well that’s one way to start a sentence. I’ll try not to laugh.”
Katsuki slams his hand on the desk.
“I’m being serious,” He says in a half-yell. You look up from the edge of your laptop unflinchingly with a displeased frown, shaking your head and throwing your hand up half-heartedly.
“Fine, fine - I promise I won’t laugh. Can you stop being all ominous? You sound like Tokoyami.”
“There’s something wrong with me,”
“Well yes,”
“Not like that,” He hisses, taking a deep breath. He leans forward with his elbows on the table, hands clasped seriously as he covers his face. “...I think my fucking..thing..is broken.”
There’s a loud noise like a muffled laugh but when Katsuki looks up your expression is completely blank. Your lips are pressed tight, eyes out of focus as you continue to type. Or pretend to. True to your word, you don’t laugh but Katsuki still wants to fucking kill you.
“Oh? What uhm,” You clear your throat, lips trembling as you try to keep yourself together. “What brought you to that conclusion?”
He nearly snaps his pen in half.
“What do you fucking think?!”
“Hey. Calm down. I’m doing my best not to laugh but you are not helping.”
This is the sort of thing Katsuki would normally take to his grave. Not only is it genuinely humiliating, it is the sort of painful personal detail he wouldn’t share with anyone even if he was fucking them. It wouldn’t matter either, that his dick isn’t working - if the other ways he relieved stress were.
He’s got an average sex drive, sometimes lower but a high libido. Getting off is a physical response to a bodily need. Like eating food or taking a nap. It’s just because it’s a physical need, it is noticeable when the need doesn’t get met. He is painfully aware of it. It’s been weeks and he thinks he’s starting to lose his mind. Worse? He’s exhausted every human option trying to fix the problem himself, save for going to the dick doctor. His testosterone levels are fine, he gets check-ups more regularly than the average person. Given his reputation is at stake, he’d rather not get prescribed anything. He’s bought ginseng and shitty vitamins and medicine he had to ship from overseas. Anything and everything.
Picking up viagra at the ripe age of twenty four would give him psychic damage he won’t recover from, this much Katsuki is sure of. So not that. But everything else, every natural remedy conceived - he’s tried.
“I don’t know what to do anymore,” He says, pinching the bridge of his nose and willfully ignoring the sound of your strained huffing “I can’t fucking get….it up and I don’t know why. I’ve tried everything. Everything. I’m going crazy,”
“You know, it really says something about our relationship that you can confide to me about these kinds of problems. Like I’m so proud of us,”
“Shut up. I’m already miserable enough without wanting to fucking tell you - but the only other option is Shitty Hair and Izuku. I refuse to buy a single goddamn pill for it, and I know if I go to a doctor they’re gonna recommend it and—” He can’t finish the thought. It’s a little too sincere for the kind of conversation you’re having.
You’re a tactless person, so of course - you don’t bother with going along with the mood. Instead you smile like the evil bastard you are.
“And…?”
“You little—” He sighs rubbing his palms over his hands “And because I can trust you to be the least horrible option.”
“So you acknowledge my valiant efforts as your underling and assistant and know you’d be nowhere without me?”
“Shut up.”
“Aw, you’re sweet,” You say, promptly ignoring him “But yeah, I mean - no judgement. I would ask if you’ve had anything major happen but I unfortunately already know that’s not really the case.”
Yes. You, of all people, would know that no major changes have happened in Katsuki’s external life that would make it hard for his dick to function. You spend so much time together. Minus the time he spends working and catching villains in the world - you’re practically glued to his side. You’re in charge of all of his affairs, his schedule, all other personal things. Katsuki is naturally neurotic, but you handle all of it with grace and care. You know everything about him, which is why he is asking you about this problem.
(Does it border on unprofessional? Of course it does. But your relationship to each other degraded that border a long time ago. You’ve already slept in his bed and met all of his friends. And kissed him, but that’s irrelevant for now)
“I need solutions,” Katsuki offers, totally and utterly defeated by the situation at hand. “I’ve done everything. Taken every goddamn herb, done every meditation. Nothing is working. Nothing. I’m going to go fucking crazy.”
“Do you think just sleeping with someone would help? I know you don’t want to ask any of your friends, but maybe an escort? We can do it discreetly.”
“Fuck no. If it were that easy I would’ve done it.”
You pause. Katsuki can see the focus on your face and doesn’t know if it makes him feel better or worse. After an elongated period of silence, you perk up a little. You lock eyes with him and Katsuki briefly regrets bringing the whole conversation up in the first place.
“Hate to ask,” You say, though there’s not enough embarrassment on your face to make anything of that statement. “But uh, have you tried getting off with other things. Like something that isn’t your dick.”
He feels a flush creeping up his skin. “What the fuck are you talking about!”
“This is an important question,” You emphasize, an expression so alarmingly calm Katsuki doesn’t know if it makes him feel better or worse. “Cause if the answer is no, then that’s basically the best solution.”
“How the fuck is that the best solution? Are you insane?”
“Don’t be such a prude, Mr. Dynamight. You’ve bottomed before. It’s not that different. Have you ever tried it on your own?”
“I fucking hate you.” He replies, closing his eyes and frowning. “No I haven’t. Why the hell would I do something so embarrassing.”
“I know you’re super anal retentive - no pun intended there actually, but can you relax a little? It’s a good solution if nothing else is working. Your dick might be broken but an orgasm is an orgasm.”
“Remind me to never ask you for shit again,”
“I’d love that. Just keep me on payroll. Anyway,” You go back to typing. “I think that should be your first move,”
“How the—are you seriously telling me I should go fuck myself to solve my problem?”
You giggle. “Well it sounds bad when you put it like that. But I guess yeah. I can help pick out some sex toys, maybe, do a little research. If you don’t want to do it in your apartment, there might be a love hotel,”
A blush creeps up against the back of his neck. He covers his face with his hands.
“I’m begging you to shut the fuck up. There’s no,” Another wave of humiliation sets in “There’s no way this is how I’m going about this. Like. Fucking none.”
“The only other option is the good old fashioned doctors appointment, then. Which we can squeeze in over telehealth I think - since you got a check-up pretty recently. Want me to do that instead,”
“Fuck, no. I just,” He groans, feeling the stress make his eye twitch “Fuck.”
There’s a bit of silence and a little typing, like you’ve decided to leave him to his thoughts. Which he doesn’t blame you for, because all things fucking considered - there’s not really any more options. He’s a smart man and even he is fucking stumped. He’s going to have to give into something, eventually. He knows that, but it doesn’t make him feel any better.
As soon as he gets close to giving up, you sit up straighter and give a deep long sigh.
“Hey,” You scratch the side of your face awkwardly. “Do you want me to help you….?”
He stares at you. “With what.”
“With your dick being broken,”
“What?!”
“Don’t yell anymore, you’re giving me a headache,” You express, rubbing your temples. “Look. You need to get off, and you’re probably going to have to use your ass to do it. You don’t want to do it by yourself, and you don’t want to do it with a friend or escort. You’d prefer not going to the doctor's office or taking any pills. I’m offering - I’m not really your friend per se and you trust me enough to ask about it.”
He hates more than anything that you have a point.
“You can’t be fucking serious right now.”
“Hey. If you want your dick to stay broken for a while until you figure it out, do you. I’m just saying. Offering solutions is what you pay me for,”
He pulls back a little.
“...Are you fine with that?”
“Oh banging you? Is that what you’re worried about?” He winces at the direct and crass way you speak. “I like you plenty and you’ve got a pretty face. I’m down if you are,”
“I can’t believe I’m considering this.”
“Really? I totally can,” You snicker, and he really, really considers firing you. “It’s not the first time we’ve crossed boundaries with each other. Just consider it, okay? Before you actually blow a fuse.”
He leans back in his chair and groans.
“Fuck. Yeah, whatever.”
__
It’s another week before Katsuki takes you up on your offer.
Miraculous it took that long, given the amount he suffered stubbornly trying to fix the problem on his own. The lengths he went too are too embarrassing to even disclose or recount but it very quickly became clear that this was not an issue that was going to magically disappear - no matter how hard he tried.
Against his better judgment and after a long, cold shower trying to talk himself out of reality - Katsuki sent you a one line text.
Fine. Come Saturday.
The only thing he could say without dying of complete fucking shame. He’s grateful that’s the time you decided to have some tact.
(Not a lot, since the text back you sent was a peach emoji and a thumbs up. But whatever, he’ll take what he can get.)
It’s Saturday now, and he’s clean. All of him. He’s clean, and just wearing his boxers - sitting on his couch. You’ll be here very soon, and he can’t believe he’s saying this, but he’s nervous.
You did mention you were fine with it. He believes that because there’s been long standing tension between you two for god knows how long he’s not entirely blind too. You sleep at his place sometimes and spend all day with him, and then there was that one time you two kissed (very sober) during New Years. You don’t bring it up because you know he can’t deal with it. Yet he’s comforted by the fact you at least want it (because you’ve said so), and that you’re willing to do this despite the ambiguity in your relationship.
He knows that is inevitably going to come up today. But he really wants to fucking cum. And if it’s with you, then it’s fine. If his head was a little clearer, he would probably reject this whole thing based on his own emotional disparity. God fucking knows he is not in any place to deal with any of that. His heart barely gets by in the office and now you were going to fuck him.
Is he stupid?
Usually no, but because there’s a soft dick and tight balls where his brain used to be, currently yes. Everything put together, it’s a recipe for disaster. He considers telling you to fuck off and forget all this happens.
But then he thinks about the prospect of your hands and your voice and it’s enough to at least get his heart pumping, though his dick still refuses to cooperate.
More than anything, he does trust you. Shitty, smug little fucker you can be sometimes - there’s not a single person who goes out of their way for him. More than just your job, sometimes it feels like every little thing you do is for his sake. Everything you don’t ask of him, every secret you keep. You push him where he needs to go and encourage him to take risks in his career without imposing on him.
He blushes again, laying on his couch. He was nervous before but it’s not any better. Maybe he’s not so much of a dumbass as he is a total fucking masochistic. Is the level of overthinking the shit Izuku goes through? No wonder he’s like that all the time.
He almost jumps out of his skin when he hears the doorbell ring.
He answers the door shirtless and finds you on the other side. You have a cardboard box and the most nonchalant expression he’s ever seen. Normally it would annoy him, but right now he’s kind of comforted by it. You look at him with a flat smile.
“Hey sexy,” You say with no intonation. “Can I come in?”
He gives you a look of disdain. “Don’t ever say that shit to me again. But come in,”
You laugh quietly as he steps aside. You don’t have much with you other than the ominous box and your bag.
“You look like you’ve showered,” You say, taking your shoes off and putting on the house slippers he keeps for you. You don’t even look at him as you go towards his bedroom upstairs. He follows you with mild (faux) annoyance.“What a shame.”
“The fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“I wanted to get a little romantical and help you clean up but you’ve taken that from me. I’m a little hurt.”
“You’re such a dumbass. As if I’d let you do that,”
“Don’t be such a spoilsport. I’m gonna be playing in your ass today anyway.”
“Not the same thing.”
“Tomato, to-mah-to,” You say with a wave of your hands. When you finally get upstairs, you look over your shoulder. Katsuki gets the message quickly enough, helping you with the door. You give him a little smile and let yourself in, dropping the box on the edge of his king sized mattress.
He stands in the doorway for a short while, glancing at you before coming in. You put your bag somewhere on the floor before getting back to the box you’ve brought over. He can guess what’s in it, but he stands with you to open it anyways.
Predictably, the thing is full of sex toys. The first question he wants to ask is how much you spent on all of it, but he bites his tongue.
You look at him and do a little jazz hands gesture. “Tah-dah.”
He gives you a displeased look, but you’re well used to this sort of thing from him. There isn’t actually a whole lot in the box. The theatrics of you bring it upstairs were more likely just you fucking with him for the sake of the bit. He frowns. Typical.
You do have some new things in the box. A few expensive look gadgets, like a pair of quirk canceling handcuffs (decorated with leopard print fur) and something that looks like it goes around his neck. The sex toys that are in there are noticeably high quality. You definitely used his dime to pay for this.
“Handcuffs? Seriously?”
“You’re too much of a control freak and I like not having my hands blown to bits,” You say, shaking your head. “We should establish some ground rules and stuff now.”
“Haah? The fuck are you gonna do that we need rules.”
“I’m not just gonna jump scare you with dominating you. But that is what I’m doing. What we’re doing.” You give him a more serious look, that makes him feel more shy than he cares to admit. “You get what I’m saying? You have to trust me a little, okay?”
He makes a petulant face at you. “I already trust you dipshit,”
“This and that are different,” You say, shaking your head. He refrains from disagreeing with you a second time. They’re really not, but he has no desire to explain that. “I’m gonna touch you and be a little strict. Are you okay with that?”
“I don’t care.”
“That’s not an answer,”
He grits. “I want to cum. And I…trust you or whatever. I already agreed to this. If it’s pissing me off, I’ll just kick you offa me. Anyway, ‘s fine.”
“If you kick me I’m suing you for battery. We can have a safeword. I’m not going to duct tape your mouth and I’m gonna talk you through most of it - but just incase.” You say. He pauses, taken aback by how… delicately you’re treating him. He doesn’t know if he should be pissed about it or not. “Any word is fine. We can use the stoplight system too if you want.”
“Stoplight?”
“Red for stop, yellow for slow, green for go.”
“That’s fine. Easy to remember.”
“Okay,” You nod to yourself, tucking the promise to memory before looking at him more seriously. “Are you okay with intimacy?”
He stares at you.
“The fuck…?”
“Kissing and hand-holding and all that other stuff.”
“Is it necessary?”
“Strictly speaking, no,” You look at him knowingly this time. He’s taken aback, but you’re always like this. You look through him, not at him. “Are you okay with it?”
The implication is there. Do you want it? is the question that goes unasked. Too direct for his tastes. He feels heat spread through his body, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.
“Yeah…’m fine with it.”
Your smile is more genuine this time around. He turns away from you a little.
“Okay. That’s everything out of the way. I’m gonna cuff your arms,” You say. It all feels a little sudden. He figures you’d mean business, but still - he’s not all that prepared. He’s had a week to mentally prepared but that feels like nothing compared to now. There’s an authority to the way you talk now he isn’t sure he’s going to get used too. “Repeat your safewords to me when you turn around.”
He frowns but listens. He puts his hands together in front of him, waiting for you to cuff him, shyness making him hot.
“Uh. Red for stop, yellow for slow down, green for go.”
“Good boy,” You say so smoothly it almost rolls off of him. The cuffs go around his wrists, and Katsuki can feel the familiar sensation of losing his quirk. Now it’s just the both of you. “I’m expecting a little pushback, but generally - you’re to listen to me. Clear?”
“God, fuck - yeah clear,” Katsuki says, feeling ticklish all of a sudden. “All this shitty foreplay is making me feel weird.”
You wrap your arm around his midriff in a sudden movement, making him twitch. He can feel your cheek pressed against his chest as your hands hover over his waistband. He takes in a sharp inhale.
“It’s good that you’re feeling anything.” You say, breath just barely above a whisper. “Gonna take this off,”
He just nods, silently. It’s still on soft, but something is happening in his gut at least. You help him take his boxers down. You’ve probably seen him naked before, more than once. You two being attached at the hip was no joke. This time there’s this lingering anticipation that’s there, and that changes things.
He steps out of his boxers. He’s naked and you’re clothed and his head feels like it’s spinning. Your hand guides him to the edge of the bed. He sits and watches you, but you don’t undress.
The first kiss (second kiss) that you exchange with Katsuki is pleasant. You bend down to do it. It’s a chaste way to meet his lips, weirdly soothing while his stomach is starting to tie in knots. It’s a little surprising how..comfortable it is. Your mouth is soft, your lips taste a little like chapstick and you smell nice. You pull away to kiss the corner of his mouth, trailing down his jaw.
Your thumbs draw over the shell of his ear, rubbing the lobe tender. You’re so different. The contrast in your normal personality is a little too much for him to reconcile with easily, but you brush over these things well enough. He looks away when you meet his eyes.
“Do you wanna lay down or kneel?”
His throat is tight. “...Don’t care.”
You laugh a little to yourself, another kiss. “Lay down then. It’d probably be easier if you put your ass up but knowing you, I doubt it.”
He blushes, annoyed that he’s so obviously predictable to you.
The sheets are soft where he lays. You don’t join him on the bed at first. He just waits there cuffed as you shuffle around for things - lubes and toys and pillows. When you do return to him, you pat his side and slide a pillow underneath his back. He quickly regrets laying down, because god the position is fucking exposing.
You get between his legs and settle there comfortably. A hand rests on his bare thigh, rubbing your thumb into smooth, muscled skin. His breath is hitched. You lean down and kiss his hip. Still no dice on the erection, but you don’t seem discouraged.
You flip the lube open and let it pour onto your fingertips. It’s pink lube. This is mildly irritating, but saying anything will feed into your satisfaction so Katsuki bites his tongue. He watches it as you warm it in your hands, patting his leg with your clean hand.
“Legs up,” You instruct. “And deep breath. Try not to tense.”
“Just goin’ for it, huh?”
You don’t reply to that, but you do smile.
It’s not his first rodeo. His second or third, but certainly not his first - but he’s never had it done for a reason like this. There was an exchange prior, that someone was putting something in him for their pleasure too. This isn’t for that. This is just for him, with your skilled hands and your oddly gentle tendencies that he doesn’t see any other time. That proves to be too much, makes his belly feel honeyed with lust.
The warm, thick sensation of lubed fingers presses against the tight rim of muscle. He breathes and unclenches. Tries not to think too hard about anything. He’s desperate, too desperate. At this point, it’s hard to be prideful. Your hands are noticeably daintier than the ones he’s had in him prior. It’s…weirdly nice. Makes the process easier somehow. He’s reminded that you’re just you, and that makes him more nervous.
“That’s it, baby,” You hum, so soft it’s startling. The way the blood starts to rush in that familiar way nearly makes him sick. Oh, fuck. No way. “Oh?”
No way. No fucking way. No way that’s what does him in.
You pause. He takes in a deep breath, ready to say anything to defend himself. Humiliation spreads through his whole body. He can feel how hard he’s starting to burn, like the blood in his body is struggling to keep up with the desire and pump of his heart. His chest and face start to flush a familiar rose as he grits his teeth and closes his eyes.
Weeks. Weeks and weeks of trying to figure this out. And it was you calling him baby, of all things, to get him at half-mast.
He’s too afraid to open his eyes, but forces himself too. He’s expecting a smug laugh or sarcastic jab but instead you just look surprised. You stare at him, unblinking. He’s so startled he stares back.
“Do you wanna…keep going?”
He gets hard. Fuck.
“S-shit,” He says, wishing he could cover his face with his hands properly. “Yeah,”
He can’t read your expression at all. Annoying. You don’t brush over it though - but you don’t force him to acknowledge it either. Maybe you’re just focused on the fact he finally has something to work with and don’t want to ruin it by making him talk about his feelings.
“Baby,” You say again, smooth and deliberate. There’s that twitch again, something pooling in his gut. He starts to feel nervous. You’re doing the same as before, stretching him and teasing the rim - getting him ready for something else. “You like bein’ my baby, Katsuki?”
He opens his mouth, only to close it again. He tries to choke some word about, telling you go fuck yourself - but he always ends up looking at your face. Your lashes on your cheek. Soft touches and even softer words. He stops knowing what he wants at some point.
“Ugh,” His voice grows thicker. “Don’t ask me that,”
(If he were more apt at honesty, he could admit to you that he just wants you. In whatever way. Sometimes you get like this, when you’re not screwing around - and you’re so good to him that it hurts. He likes your sarcasm and dryness.
But he likes too when you’re this sweet on him too - even if that feels shameful as fuck. That feels like it’s crossing so many more lines that you’re usual self. He knows that better than anyone. It is crossing more lines than usual.
He can’t help but think about it anyway.)
You laugh a little. His eyes go lidded as you continue to work him open. It’s a slow process. You circle his hole with your thumb each time before pushing in. You get one finger in without effort. The second one takes a little more. Another heaved breath and unclenching of his muscles.
He hasn’t felt the sensation of something entering him in so long. He can’t remember when the last time was. He’s antsy as you pump your fingers in and out, stretching him slowly. You find the bottle with your free hand, flicking it open with your teeth and pouring lube onto him directly before you keep going.
“That feel okay?” You mumbles
“Y-yeah. Feels fine,” He huffs, closing his eyes “Feels…good,”
“It’ll feel better soon. Just need to,” You curve the two fingers inside of him up. They search and search and search until—
There. Shit, there.
“Oh, shit,” He gasps, arching himself up as you rub it. You smile at him, pleased. “Fuck,”
You whistle. Katsuki can feel his cock throb properly now, up at full attention. You don’t touch him though. Your other hand grips his thigh for support as you focus your wrist and energy on curling your fingers against his prostate. His stomach flutters, waist tightening.
He’s been fucked before, damn it, but this is different. This is controlled and concentrated. Your fingers are perfect in their motion, pinpoint pleasure making him break out into a feverishness. You’re annoyingly good at this. His whole nervous system feels like it’s being unraveled so slowly. Pulled apart like the slices of a fruit, something for you to pick off and eat.
His head feels like it’s full of cotton, tongue too big for his mouth. Thoughts clouded and inhibition lowered. Real pleasure. He hasn’t felt that in what has to be more than a month now. It’s overwhelming. He’s sensitive and muddy and acting stupidly - he’s well aware. It’s an out of body experience being so unwound in general but this after everything is overstimulating.
God it feels good. How can anything feel this fucking good?
His breathing is erratic, heart pumping trying to keep up with it. Euphoric little pricks start at his abdomen and shoot off through his whole body. Like the splintering ends of a falling star.
He’s never had any orgasm that feels like it needs every muscle in his body to pump through him. It starts in his center and spreads out, melts him slowly. Usually the feeling of needing to cum is passing - just building pleasure until the orgasm hits and the high relaxes. His cock is leaking now with every little press along his insides. Little white dribbles of pre-cum sliding down his shift all the way down to his ass. He doesn’t want to think about how he looks, so he focuses on how it feels.
“Fuck, that feels so good,” His voice almost gives. “Shit, I’m gonna cum if you don’t slow down.”
“You can cum if you want to, Katsuki,” As if to drive the point home by massaging his inner thigh, neglecting his cock “Guess you’re pretty sensitive inside, hm? Gonna make you cum like a girl,”
His blush deepens..
“Haah, fuck - fuck I’m not sensitive. It’s just, hng. Been a while,”
“Don’t be a liar or I won’t let you cum,” You tease.
His eyes shoot wide, brows touching his hairline. “Fuck, d-don’t you dare. .”
You have the nerve to laugh at him. All things considered, maybe you’ve earned. “Just teasing. I’m awful but not that awful. “
“You’re not awful, fuck - just really,” He throws his head back against the sheets. “Need to cum, really need to—”
“Gonna cum without even touching your cock,” You say, half-amused. He shudders when the realization dawns on him.“You’re so sweet.”
He’s drooling. The strength goes out in his jaw as the feeling just builds and builds and builds. It goes on like it’ll never topple.
When it does, it doesn’t feel so much like a rope unsnapping as much as it feels like everything is being pulled from under him. Like the loss of gravity. His abdomen goes tight, the anticipation of it making it impossible to breathe. So close, so close, so close. His brain feels shut off, mindlessly humping along air to capitalize on everything. You’re encouraging only eggs him on further. He lets out a garbled little noise, choking. His voice rasps as electricity flows through him.
And he cums, there’s an orgasm - but nothing comes out. He cums so hard but his balls still feel so tight and full. It feels good but he’s still so fucking hard. It snaps him awake as his eyes open, and you’re staring at his cock a little awestruck.
“Oh, poor baby,” You say - not exactly mocking him but not exactly being kind either. Katsuki stares at you lost and hazy. “A dry orgasm after all of that. That’s just cruel.
He heaves. “What the….how am I supposed to?”
His dick aches. Fuck he almost wants to cry.
Your hand wraps around the base of his shaft in a sudden movement, making him hiss. He almost cusses you out. Sensitive, too sensitive. You put your thumb over the tip of his cock, more pre-cum leaking from it as you. You look mesmerized as it dribbles against your thumb
A long pause.
“Hey,” Your expression is serious. “Do you wanna fuck me?”
“What?”
“I’m really turned on right now, shit. I was planning on just helping you but, you didn’t cum yet and I’m...,” You’re looking at him so directly. His heart pounds. “You can say no,”
Of course he wants to fuck you. That’s what he wants to say. He doesn’t know where he’d find the fucking gall.
“....’s sensitive,” He says instead, flushing with embarrassment. You brighten up. “Just… give me a minute,”
“I will but first,” You rummage through your items and pull out a plug. His eyes widen. “It’ll feel good, I promise.”
He grumbles, but doesn’t reject you. You have some kind of miracle in you - so he feels more inclined to just give in to whatever you say. You look eager to do it. He doesn’t know how he feels about that.
It’s easy enough to put the plug in when he’s already all soft. He’s still sensitive and swollen. He hisses as the cool metal of the plug slides into softened hole, before settling. You give him a little tap on his which he glares at you for. Your only response is laughter.
There’s nothing to talk about while Katsuki watches you undress. You don’t take it all off - just your bottoms. It’s not that he has nothing on his mind. Just that… seeing you like that isn’t making him any less hard. He just… looks at you. Dumbly. You slide your shorts off in one go and your underwear along with it, and you’re all on display.
It’s pretty. Your pussy is really pretty. A horrifyingly embarrassing thing for him to think but it’s true. There’s a fine layer of hair on your mound that he likes. You’re dripping wet like you said you were, and that doesn’t make the situation any easier. You give him a little smug grin as you settle over his lap. He stares at you completely absent-minded, flushed.
“Like what you see?” You tease. He’s too struck to lie to you.
“Yeah,” He rasps. He’s out of his mind right now. He blames it on his dick. “I wish I could take these fuckin’ cuffs off.”
You look at him a little surprised. “You don’t like being cuffed and restrained?”
His ears feel hot, heat prickling up his skin. “Didn’t say that just,” He groans even trying to say it. “...Wanna touch you,”
He trails off. You use your hand to turn his face back to you, cupping his jaw as you bend forward to kiss him. He stares at you wide-eyed, making a noise of surprise. This kiss is different from all the others. Deeper, with more feeling. He gets into it, lifting his head to kiss you back.
When you pull away, you’re all fluttered lashes and adoration.
“After I drain your dick dry,” You say with a confidence that astounds him. “I’ll take them off and let you fuck me proper. But you have to tell me you want that, first. Do you wanna fuck me, baby?”
“Shit. Y-yeah,” He nods, feeling absolutely swept up in your pace.
“Say it.”
“I wanna fuck you, dammit,” He stutters through the last of his sentence. “Don’t make me beg, my dick is going to blow off if you keep torturing me.”
You laugh good naturedly and he feels a little proud that he made you laugh. The thought that he’s beyond whipped wipes the smile off his face completely, but whatever.
You pull back, sitting up as you examine his cock. You hold it up to you, weighing your options.
“I’m too horny to open myself up. I’m just gonna sit on it, ‘kay? Don’t buck your hips up,”
He opens his mouth to protest, but the words die in his mouth. The warm, wet heat of your cunt is immediately overstimulating. He groans so gutterally it startles him. Like it’s punched out of him. This is the only pressure his hard cock has gotten in months and it’s making him feel like he’s on fire.
You don’t give him a chance to cover. You lean over him as you maneuver his cock to your entrance with all disregard for his sanity. You hiss as the tip finds the spot. Fuck you’re wet. Your insides are so soft, so sticky - but you’re still so damn tight.
As you promised you go slowly. It doesn’t help him losing his mind. Worsened by the fact he can see you on top of him, all bated breaths and shaky moans. There must be a dull pain, but you only give him a smile as you get the first inch.
“You’re big,” You say breathlessly. His cock twitches to life. “Feels fucking good. Shit, that’s amazing. Haha, I can feel you so deep already.”
“Please stop talking, before I, haah,”
“Don’t cum yet,” You demand, lowering yourself further and further until you’ve bottomed out. Katsuki feels fucking crazy. “Let me get my fill first.”
“Ngh, easier said than fucking done,”
You just laugh. “Try your hardest, Mr. Hero. Show off your endurance, hm?”
He groans as you start to move. You really don’t regard him at all. You lean over him with one hand and use your other to tease and toy with your clit as you ride his cock with reckless abandon. The room is quick to fill with noise - the sound of skin slapping skin, the skin sticking where your hips meet his thighs.
You’re moaning in little broken waves. He’s not going to last if he listens to you anymore.
He’s biting the inside of his cheek trying not to cum, but you don’t make it easy. You’re riding him with so much force, using him. Your pussy is so tight it’s gripping him, sucking him dry. A vice-like grip, sticky and pliant over the hard curve of his cock. Everytime you bounce and throw your ass a little harder onto him, he can feel you. Feel himself and how deep he is. His hands tighten into fists where they’re cuffed in front of him.
He’s never been… used like this. But he doesn’t hate it the way you disregard him to chase your own pleasure while being so generally mindful of his own. You take and take and take but you make it feel so good.
It’s not helped by the plug in his ass, brushing against his prostate every single time you move. Makes him jolt. Every fiber and nerve in his body is wound as tight as it can possibly go. All of his strength, sanity, and focus he has left in him is trying not to cum, not to buck his hips up and rut into you like a stupid animal no matter how much he wants too.
He can feel you start to cum before you even tell him. Your walls pulse with need and your movement starts to get slower. The grip you have holding you up weakens slightly.
“Gonna cum. Fuck baby, I’m gonna cum,” You say with a pant. You open your eyes and look down on him “Cum with me, okay? Don’t hold it in,”
The words alone trigger a reaction. But with everything else, it’s like Katsuki explodes. Weeks worth of tension in his body, in his muscles, in his everything - burst at the seams. You cum and he follows you nearly in succession. The hard pulsing of your swollen cunt suck around him like a vice and he goes practically limp feeling his dick finally drain.
He cums and he can’t stop cumming. Pumps out so much white hot seed his head starts to cloud. He fucks up into you, sloppy and dumb. Chasing his high as he pours every ounce of his load into your pussy without so much as a modicum of shame. A month of dryness overwritten by the most intense orgasm he’s ever had in his fucking life. He doesn't know how long he stays there, painting your walls with his spend. It just goes on forever, longer than he’s ever experienced.
He has his eyes closed as he goes limp. Fucking hell.
It takes him a while to go soft again. When he finally does and returns to consciousness, he’s still nestled inside you. You give him a smile when his eyes finally open, leaning forward to kiss his hairline.
“Still all there?”
His voice is hoarse like he’s been screaming. “I feel like I fucking died,”
You giggle.
“So… no?”
“Kind of. Barely. What the fuck is up with you.” He says laying his head back, sweat dripping down his back. “Shit.”
“Did you like it?”
He gives you an unimpressed look as you laugh.
“I’m glad.” You say softly. You’re warm. God he’s down bad. “We have a lot to talk about later. You should take a little break for now.”
He nods in agreement to both things before pausing. “For now..?”
“You thought we were done?” You say with a tilted head. He gapes. “I thought you knew I was more ruthless than that.”
He groans.
“You’re insane.”
You chuckle, leaning down to kiss him.
“You love me.”
He lets you kiss him some more and doesn’t bother denying it.
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Baling Christmas cookies with Hazel 😭😭
author's note/s: 742 words. not so much of the baking itself but it does set the scene for this. sapphic fluff 4 dayz, as the kids like to say
If you had to swat her hand away from the bowl of cookie dough one more time, you were going to lose your mind. Or maybe put the bowl in the fridge and find a way to lock it as you finish up your current batch of cookies.
“Hazel, seriously,” you tsk at her.
“Okay, okay, I’ll stop. But I did tell you that I’m a sucker for chocolate chip cookies - baked and unbaked.”
Hazel shrugs and puts her hands up as if to say, ‘What can you do?’, and you can only roll your eyes at her affectionately as you move the bowl away from her. She was always a nice little distraction to your daily tasks and in stressful situations, but you really needed to get your baking done before mid-afternoon. The holidays weren’t in full swing just yet but you didn’t wanna do your Christmas shopping when everyone else was; huge crowds weren’t Hazel’s thing and they weren’t yours either. Besides, even though you didn’t know what to buy, it’d be nice to know which shops to visit again once you do.
“You can have them once they’re out of the oven and cooled. They’re yummier and healthier that way,” you say pointedly. “But that won’t happen if you keep distracting me.”
She hums, walking around the island and stopping right behind you. She presses a kiss to the back of your head before snaking her arms around your waist, her chin resting atop your shoulder. You smile to yourself as you lean back, letting her sway the two of you in silence as you continue shaping the dough.
After a moment, she asks, “Why are you making all of this so early, anyway? Isn’t baking treats supposed to be during the twenties of December when it’s really Christmas already?”
You shrug, placing another cut out soon-to-be sugar cookie on the tray. “Force of habit. It’s kind of like a tradition my parents and I have for the season, helps us prepare to get into the holiday spirit and all that before doing some early shopping or just window-shopping. You have something like that too, right?”
Hazel tightens her embrace as you feel her shake her head. “My family’s not the type. Mom puts in more effort at the PTA meetings for the school’s Christmas events than she does in decorating our own house — and before you ask, yes, the house does have decorations. It’s just that we have people that come over to put them out and around the whole place.”
A frown spreads across your face at that. You knew the Callahan family situation was pretty rocky which was why the two of you never really talked about it unless she brought something up, but hearing little bits and pieces of Hazel’s home life always made you feel sad. It sucked that she and her family fit right into the ‘rich family but not rich in family’ stereotype. “I can help you decorate, if you want.” Thinking about doing her humongous house was a bit dizzying, but it’s not like they had to do it all in a day.
You place the cookie cutter down and turn around to face her, and Hazel has the softest look on her face that you almost forget what you were going to say. “Would that be okay?”
“Yes,” she answers without hesitation. You chuckle at her eagerness, wrapping your arms around her shoulders to bring her closer. “That’d be so okay. I think that would be really, really great actually, and then maybe we can… wait, but didn’t you say you were gonna go look for gifts later?”
“Traditions can be altered. It’d be nice for the two of us to have one of our own, don't you think?”
She rocks back on her heels, beaming at you as she nods vigorously.
You grin back at her before pressing a kiss to her cheek, then moving your positions around so that she was facing the countertop and you were hugging her from behind. “Okay, part of this new tradition too is that you actually help me bake these cookies, so go and get to it, Callahan.”
“Yes ma’am,” she says in a mocking soldier-like voice, but she does pick up the cookie cutter without another word.
You let a few seconds pass before going, “Oh, and Hazel?”
“Yeah?”
“Please don’t get any ideas about eating the cookie dough again.”
Hazel barks out a laugh. “No promises, pretty girl.”
#hazel callahan imagine#hazel callahan x you#hazel callahan x reader#hazel callahan fanfic#hazel callahan#requests#<3
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Modern Arthur Morgan Dad headcannons!!
This was requested by @cantchoosejust1
I had a blast writing the pregnancy headcannons which is listed here on my modern headcannon list
so I am EXCITED to write about how he actually acts as a dad
I mean
Come on, it’s Arthur, he’s gonna be great!
Warnings!: Mentions of pregnancy, obviously, maybe a little bit of NSFW content, with ya know....Arthur being himself and thinking you are his hot and sexy partner, and general raising children items
Tags: @kieropal @beea-nie
Arthur is a fantastic dad
First off
if we are gonna continue off where we left off in the pregnancy headcannons
yall have twins
and literally
he loves them so much
sometimes you wonder if he loves them more than you
But you know that isn’t true, he loves you and him all the same
He does spend copious amounts of time with them though.
If they wake up in the middle of the night, especially while you are still recovering from your hospital visit
he is up before you can even TRY to get up.
You may wake up, but by the time you do he’s already out of the bed and into the nursery
When you walk in to check on him when he hasn’t returned to the bedroom after about twenty minutes
he’s in the rocking chair, both twins on his chest, which by the way, he never wears a shirt to bed, so this dad bod man has two little twins snuggled onto his chest, his hands over their backs to make sure they don’t go anywhere
and he’s like
half awake
but more asleep than awake at all
so when you come in and you just kinda take a picture of him
he doesn’t even move
he swears he isn’t snoring
he is
He also like demands that you let him do what he needs to do
He wants you to be as comfortable as possible while you need to rest up and get better
He knows that you’re sore, he knows that you hurt, and he knows that you want to spend time with the babies too
so he will bring them to you
he refuses to let you walk to them
he brings them to you
He loves to watch you with them, he tells you that he thinks you are a natural and that he loves to see you do even the most basic things with them
of course you tell him that you love to see him with them too, because it’s just so sweet to see how soft he gets looking at them
As time goes on and you get more healed and the twins grow up a little
you two have so much fun with their milestones
Arthur loves to watch them on their tummies, tummy time is his favorite thing
often times you’ll catch him laying on his stomach too, watching them with his head in his hands and smile on his face
He the first time that one of them rolled over he literally screamed
“Darlin’! Get in here! He rolled over! Little Morgan rolled over!”
He literally loses his entire collective mind
He has his phone out in an instant and is trying to video them both
He manages to get the baby girl rolling over and he’s never been happier
he literally loves to show off those videos to the guys, John and Charles see them repeatedly at work
They aren’t even annoyed about it though cause they’ve never seen him happier
(Well, other than when he’s boasting about you that is)
When the two of them sit up on their own, he’s even more excited and he claims he cannot WAIT until he can take them fishing and you have to gently explain to him that they’ve still got a little while yet before they can properly hold a pole
They can’t speak but Arthur is constantly trying to get them to
literally
always trying to convince them to say “dada” or even “papa”
he says that he will win and be the favorite parent
(He means it in a completely joking way an sincerely hopes that you are actually the favorite because he has mental issues.)
He loves to watch them hold stuff, so he’ll hand them stuff in a joking way for them to hold cause he thinks its funny
he’ll be doing something and then just hand them like
one of their toys
and just go
“Here, hold this for me pal, I’m busy.”
He likes to buy them all kinds of toddler toys they can’t really play with yet too
he bought a little plastic tool set for them and he’s so excited every time they end up grabbing one of the little wrenches from it
He loves them to no ends and every time he’s in public with you and them, like a family dinner he sits and just plays with them rather than actually figuring out what he should be eating
so when the waitress and or waiter comes around he sits there and boasts about them
(You order him a steak usually because you know he’ll eat it and he’s too busy to pay attention, and you get him a coke with it)
He is just the definition of caring father
as they get older, and they start crawling
he literally laughs the first time he catches it
He is EXCITED
Like
they’re gonna go on so many adventures!
You on the other hand are completely worried
Theres a lot for them to get into in the house, and it’s more worrying than it is exciting for you
but arthur is there to reassure you and tell you that it’ll be okay
He makes sure that he keeps an extra close eye on them
they do like to get into things
and crawl where they shouldn’t
but he always makes sure that they’re alright
and that they don’t ya know
kill themselves
by the time their first birthday rolls around Arthur
I mean
Arthur is just so excited
He also...
well
he is also trying to convince you to have another kid
he thinks they’re growing too fast and while he’s excited for the rest of their lives
He also wants to hold a baby in his arms again
A baby baby
and you have to remind him
that you two should probably wait at least until the twins are at least two years old
He knows you’re right
and he knows that it makes more sense to have a bigger space between them
but
he tries to tell you that if you get pregnant NOW
then the kids will be a year and nine months older than the new baby and that’s almost two years difference
and it’s really hard to say no to him
I mean
really hard
He’s really attractive for one thing, he’s your husband, you love him and he’s always hot to you
Literally always attractive to you
he can have baby spit up all over him and you think he’s the most attractive man on the planet
i mean
lets face it
it’s arthur morgan
he’s HOT
So
It’s hard
it’s difficult
not to tell him
“Sure, we’ll have another baby”
He tries to ambush you with it after the kids are put in their cribs
He’ll come up behind you and wrap his strong arms around your waist, kiss your neck and start muttering things in your ear.
“Mmm....Darliin’, you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life...you look even better outta those damn clothes”
He’ll gently place his hand on your stomach and lean even closer to your ear
“You’re so damn hot when you carry my kids too...holdin’ my baby in you...mhm....you remember how they get there don’t you?”
“Arthur, stop that-”
“Aww...Girl...come on....I love seein’ them pretty faces of yours, but I love finishin’ in ya more. Plus you make a damn good pregnant lady, I’d do it with ya the whole pregnancy if you didn’t have other things to do.”
“Arthur!”
“What! I’m just tellin’ the truth..”
You HAVE to tell him no
Make him wait until the twins are at LEAST two.
He loves you and respects you, so I mean
at least he isn’t gonna do anything he shouldn’t
In the mean time he’ll spend all his energy towards the twins taking their first steps, walking and stumbling all over the house and causing mayhem wherever they go
You help out with them too obviously
I mean
come on they’re your babies too
you love them just as much
but arthur just
I mean
He’s ARTHUR
he loves your kids so much he does everything and anything that has to do with those kids
he literally I mean
all of his time is dedicated to them when he isn’t at work or with you
By the time their second birthday does come around
You guys have a great day
I mean
you celebrated their first birthday with Arthur’s family, the cakes that they shoved in their faces, the little birthday hats, I mean
the whole shabang
so for the second birthday you take them to what has turned into their favorite park and the whole family has a fantastic time
Arthur sat and fished, keeping one of the twins on his lap while you had the other
let it be know though
literally
the moment the two of you get home
he is gonna be all up in yo grill as soon as the kids are in bed
“So....the kids are two years old....”
“JUST BARELY ARTHUR!”
“Mhm....don’t matter, they’re two now, two and nine months when you give birth...”
“Arthur....”
“Darlin’, come on...I want more babies with ya, you know that, you’re beautiful, you’re damn sexy, and you look so damn good with a baby in the oven-”
“You are so bad-”
“Awww you love it.”
Needless to say
you and him are trying for another baby
he will boast about it by the way
not because he’s like
“haha i am having sex”
but more so like
“Fuck you my wife is hot and I don’t have to pull out bitch”
Kinda way
I mean
he is trying with you
all the time
literally
all the time
like
comes home after work almost every day and sees if you’re in the mood
if the babies aren’t being taken care of, of course
After you two have the most
leg shaking
out of breath
sweaty
sex imaginable
he’ll kiss you passionately
put a hand around your throat, and hold your ankles in the air to make sure that his seed gets you pregnant.
He stands next to you while you pee on the stick too
literally stands there waiting
watching you impatiently
“Come onnnn are we gonna have another kid or not?”
“Arthur, we have to wait for ten minutes.”
“Bullshit!”
While you wait he’s gonna kiss your face, your neck, your shoulders
and literally anywhere he can find
“I love you, but if this ain’t positive I’m takin’ you right back in that bedroom, and your face ain’t leavin’ that damn pillow ‘til im done with you.”
He’s literally the hottest when he wants to have more kids
When it is postive
he will most likely still do that
because he’s excited
It comes up negative
and
well
ya know
When you finally do get that positive test he’s at work and you’re taking the twins to Hosea and Dutch’s house to be watched for the day
You use the bathroom before you leave and take a test
you’re a few weeks late for your period
so you’re a little interested to see if it is what you think it is
it is
you tell dutch and hosea and they’re so excited to be grandparents pt. 2
You decide to text arthur
and tell him this exactly
“Hey, I have something I wanna talk to you about after work”
He panics a little because he has anxiety
but
he knows you love him
so he isn’t gonna panic too much
but when he gets home he nervously shuffles a little
and looks at his feet
he’s a confident man, when the moment’s right
but in times like these
he’s the most shy person he can be
When you kiss him on the cheek he feels a little better and he’ll look up at you
You just smile widely and hand him the test
and he starts literally jumping
“We did it?”
“We did it!”
“Oho I can’t wait to rub this in john’s face!”
He’s just so excited again to have another mini you, and mini him, and like
he’s really excited for the twins to have another sibling around
He’s just a fantastic dad, and he’s so happy for the two of you
The twins he tells them that they’re gonna have another sibling
and even though the two of them are a little younger they seem to really get it
Arthur will start laying his head on your stomach with the twins and gently place their hands on your tummy
“Your little sister or brother is in there.”
and he just loves to see you smile as they put their tiny hands on you
He smiles so big
and just
I mean
he loves you so much
he loves your kids so much
and like
he is in heaven every time he’s with all of you.
He just feels so overwhelmed with love
Sometimes he falls asleep in the twins rooms, even though they don’t really need to be baby babied anymore
and sometimes you’ll hear him talking to them about you and about the new baby and you swear he’s on the verge of tears.
He is literally the perfect husband, the perfect father.
Arthur is everything you wanted and more
And you just
he means the world to you and you make sure he knows that
you make sure he feels loved
you make sure he knows
and he has literally never felt better in his life than he does when he’s at home with you and his kids.
He has little wallet pictures of all of you
and one of you pregnant that he’ll replace when your baby pops out :)
#arthur morgan#arthur morgan x reader#Red Dead Redemption 2#red dead redemption 2 drabble#rdr2#rdr2 community#Rdr2 Headcannons#arthur morgan headcannons
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I’m not mad that my brother got a wonderful wedding and a great start in life. I’m not mad that they left from a wedding full of both their families and all their friends, to go on a honeymoon in a gifted car, and return to their apartment rented to them by a church member for way below the going rate, furnished with all the gifts my sister in law complained about having to write so many thank you cards for. I’m not mad that they got to have wedding photos, and engagement photos, and cookouts with extended family, and that my grandparents bought them an air fryer. I’m not mad that my sister in law was actually allowed to have friends as a kid and was able to have 10 bridesmaids for her wedding at age 19. I’m not mad that she’s in the family group chat and that my S/O isn’t.
And I’m not mad that I don’t get all those things, not really. I chose the way I went. I chose to make my start far away with a suitcase and a backpack. I chose my S/O and I knew she wouldn’t be someone I could bring home to meet my mama, at least not without a lot of groundwork and it would be a strained event not joyful. I chose to take out a loan to buy a crappy old car, to buy my own toaster, to take my own selfies with her to hang on the fridge instead of having framed professional wedding photos of us with our families. I chose my twenty different friends in sixteen different cities in three different countries, none of whom could afford to travel for a wedding if I did have one.
I’m not mad that I tackled most of my starting-out problems alone. That I paid three extra months of rent instead of getting my dad to co-sign on my lease. That I had to rent a uhaul and figure out how to drive it, so we could throw out most of my girlfriends stuff at the dump because we couldn’t afford to haul it to the new state and city we were going to, instead of borrowing my dads flatbed trailer and my brothers pickup and having church friends load and unload everything. I’m not mad that I was the only supporting person for my girlfriend’s recent surgery, that while my family was texting each other about my little brother’s broken wrist from playing outside I was sitting in a waiting room alone wondering what I should do if anything went wrong. This is the life that I chose, and I don’t regret it.
But I hate, I HATE that the narrative is that I chose all these things because I’m rebellious, a poor steward, a little kooky, a little lazy, a little unprepared, a little irresponsible, choosing playing around over settling down. None of those things are why I chose this way.
I chose this way mostly because of choices my family made. My parents chose to be homophobic. Chose to be the type of Christians that cry and mourn the eternal death of their kids’ souls when their kids say they aren’t Christian anymore. Chose to do the whole early childhood abuse/neglect/isolation route that gave me literal diagnosed PTSD. Like, I didn’t want to watch my mom cry and be afraid for me. I didn’t want my girlfriend to experience weird homophobic bs. I didn’t want to go to a Christian counselor with no education beyond a high school diploma anymore, I was losing my mind a bit and I needed a therapist and medication for my ptsd. I take responsibility for my choices, but I just wish they took responsibility for theirs too, I guess. Like it’s not as straightforward as it looks from their perspective. I’m not just some hare-brained kid learning what consequences are. I knew how this would all go, I chose it anyway. Not because it was easier, but because I wanted to live.
#long post#rant#losing community#my family may still be talking about my brothers wedding in the group chat and it may be fucking with my head a bit#lgbtq+#this is how it is
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Craving
Lee Donghyuck/Haechan X Reader | Vampire AU, Roommates AU | Smut, Fluff, Humor, Romance
Summary: Dating a brat is exhausting. Dating a bratty vampire is even more exhausting so you wonder, why did I even agree to this?
It’s a continuation of Love Bites but can be read separately because it’s really just 12k long of vampire porn with no real plot.
Warnings: Vampire sex, bondage, oral sex (69), overstimulation, unprotected sex, fingering, implied public sex, a little bit of dom!hyuck and a little bit of exhibitionist!hyuck, blood sucking (plenty of that)
Not once in your life did you ever imagine yourself dating a vampire. And certainly, never thought about living together with that so-called vampire boyfriend of yours. You never know what to expect from a situation like this but maybe it’s better not to think too much about it anyway since Lee Donghyuck always manages to exceed your expectation.
Before you became his personal midnight snack, Donghyuck had to search for his own food which either meant he had to buy blood bags from the cheapest hospital around or pick up girls with low self-esteems downtown to have kinky and messy—like really messy, blood everywhere, you don’t want to imagine—one night stands with them to fulfill both his needs for blood and sex. He often complained about it, grumbling with his lips turning into this adorable pout as he told you how he wasn’t fond of his way of life or the effort he had to make just to survive.
So now that he has you as his personal walking blood bag, Donghyuck is having the time of his life and he’s enjoying every minute of it. He’s one hundred percent happy all the time that it annoys the heck out of you. It’s not that you don’t want him to be happy—of course, you want your boyfriend to be happy—but happy Donghyuck means he’s gonna get all clingy and playful, and him being clingy and playful means hell.
“Hyuck.”
“Yes, baby?”
“I’m trying to do my laundry.”
“I’m aware.”
“So, can you get off of me for a second, please?”
“For a second? Sure.” He untangles himself away from you but only for a second, literally. “Second’s up!” The way he giggles is almost like a child, circling his arms along your waist and buries his face in the crook of your neck again, nuzzling up to you while chanting, “Cute, cute, cute, you’re so cute. The cutest girl in the whole universe!”
Donghyuck is clingy as fuck. He can’t go through the whole ten minutes without, at least, ruffling your hair, poking your cheek, or pinching the bridge of your nose. You’ve known for a while that he’s fond of skinship more than anyone you’ve ever met and it was bearable before since he only did it when he was flirting with you. But ever since you’ve become official, he just literally couldn’t get his hands off you.
So, how on earth would you get any of your work done?
The second the sun sinks below the horizon, Donghyuck will come out of his room with the biggest smile on his face and his arms spread wide, “Baby, I’m awake! Come here and get your daily dose of Hyuck’s loving!” And if you don’t respond to him in the way he wants to—which is by embracing him and kissing him for a good half an hour or so—he will make sure you won’t be able to pay attention to anything else but him for the rest of the evening.
He follows you around like a puppy, humming the same Michael Jackson’s song over and over again as he waits for you to finish washing the dishes, his feet tapping against the floor to match the beats in his head.
“Don’t you have something else to do besides waiting for me?” You ask, scrubbing the rest of the barbecue sauce off your plate.
“I do have something to do.” And he suddenly pops up behind you, blowing air to your ear. “You.”
And you raise your silver spoon in the air, forcing him to run to the other side of the room, whining, “Baby, that’s not fair!”
Whenever you’re busy reading a book, Donghyuck will snuggle close and insist for you to sit on his lap. You’re not complaining in the slightest because it does feel nice and he rarely does anything weird since he also enjoys spending his time watching tv with his chin placed on the top of your head and his arms circled idly around your waist. It’s you who tends to get distracted with the way his chest is pressing against your spine, his laugh reverberating straight to your skin whenever something funny is playing on the screen. And when you get distracted, your heart races, and when he hears your heartbeat increasing, he chuckles lowly, leaning in to nibble at your earlobe while whispering, “If you’re horny, you can just tell me, baby.”
And you smack him in the head with your book.
Today is a bit different. Today, you have dedicated yourself to switch your role and be the one who teases the hell out of him instead. But since he’s too sly, always a step ahead of you whenever you make a plan to humiliate him, there’s only one way you can win this game: ignoring him.
So that’s what you intend to do. When the night takes over and Donghyuck comes out from his room with a bird’s nest on his head and a cheeky grin on his face, saying, “Baby, I’m awake and I’m ready to hear how much you’ve missed me during the day,” you just sit there on the couch, flipping another page of your novel. “Hey, Hyuck,” you simply greet him.
“Hey, Hyuck?” He repeats, appalled and disgusted with the way you said it. “What kind of treatment is that? Is it that time of the month already?” He takes a whiff of the air. “No, it’s not. I can smell it.”
“For the sake of our relationship, please refrain yourself from smelling my scent to know my menstruation cycle in the future, thank you.”
“How? You want me to stop breathing?” He laughs to himself. “Just kidding. You know I don’t breathe.”
You want to roll your eyes and bury your face in your hands—ashamed of the things he said—but you realize that you have to play it cool and give him the cold shoulder.
Placing hands on his hips, he questions with a huff, “So I’m not getting any hug around here?”
“I’ll be with you in a moment.”
You move away from the living room, doing literally anything else but giving him what he asks for. Donghyuck sighs and follows you too, as expected, leaning his back against the kitchen counter as he waits for you to finish making yourself a cup of coffee.
“Did I do something that upset you?” He asks, scratching his cheek.
“No, of course not.” You smile, giving him a squeeze on his arm. But then you walk away, leaving him confused and bitter.
Ignoring him is both fun and hilarious because you can see him stealing glances at you even when he tries to act cool about it. He tries to distract himself by playing video games but he keeps on losing so he presses his fingers a little too hard to the controller, nearly breaking it in half.
“Careful,” you warn. “I borrowed that thing.”
“Whatever.” He throws the controller away, scoffing. “It’s stupid anyway.”
To know that his happy self can be reduced to this grumbling mess just because you’re ignoring him makes you feel elated and you wonder, am I a sadist for enjoying this so much?
Hours have passed and you still won’t give in to him, which is really something because he’s doing things that almost make you crawl back to his lap. Donghyuck knows how hot he is, knows how his eyebrow raise and half-lidded eyes do wonders to your heart and mind. So it’s not a surprise when he walks out of the bathroom with his wet hair pushed back, showcasing his temple and his perfect eyebrows. Droplets of water are sliding down from his bare chest to his v-lines, with his white towel hanging dangerously low on his hips. He doesn’t head back to his room right away, and instead, takes a seat on the coffee table, right in front of you.
“Babe.”
You promise yourself inwardly that you will not take a fucking glance at him when he’s like this. “Hmm?”
“I know you’re trying your best to ignore me but your heart is beating like crazy.” He’s raising his eyebrow. You know it. You’re not seeing it but you know it. “Isn’t it time for you to give up your stupid little prank and make-out with me already?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” This time, you open your MacBook, busying yourself with typing words on your keyboards.
Donghyuck walks over—still in his fucking towel and nothing more, for God’s sake—and leans closer from behind the couch. He looks over your shoulder as you browse the internet to find something to distract your thoughts. He snorts loudly when he sees the article you’re reading.
“Chalamet?” He jeers. “Who’s Timothee Chalamet? What kind of name is Timothee Chalamet?”
“He’s an Oscar nominee and he’s barely twenty-five. He’s cute.”
“So? I’m cuter than Timothee Chalamet. Way more beautiful too. Just FYI, they invented the term ‘beautiful’ to describe me actually. Happened a long time ago. It’s a fact.”
“That’s great,” you blankly respond, typing another name of a celebrity on the search bar. “I know there’s another term they invented for you.”
“What, ethereal?”
“Cocky-Ass Bitch.”
He gasps and he’s not even breathing.
And when you keep denying his protest, he pushes your MacBook away from your lap and tackles you down to the couch.
“I can’t believe you’re looking at some other dude when you have me paying you full attention,” he says, wetting his lower lip as he peers into your eyes, his body hovering dangerously close above yours. His eyes are gleaming with both desire and affection which still makes the knot in your stomach tighten to this day but you’re a tad better at controlling your expression this time. A droplet of water drops from the tip of his hair to your cheek.
Wiping it off with a slide of your thumb, you comment, “You’re wet.”
“So are you, ever since you’ve met me.” He winces at his words when a few seconds pass by in silence. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that.”
You tap his cheek. “As long as you’ve learned your lesson.”
He pouts as he heads back to the main topic. “Your prank is going too far, Sweetheart.”
“What prank? I don’t do pranks, Hyuck. I’m not you.”
“So, why have you been ignoring me then?”
“Is it really that weird for me to just have some time for myself?”
“Well—I—” It’s the first time he ever seems lost for words. “I just—”
“What, are you thirsty?” You flatly ask, telling yourself to not let your eyes wander to the muscles in his arms and stomach. “Don’t tell me you want to drink again. It’s only been a day, Hyuck.”
“It’s not that!” He whines, pouting with his eyebrows knitting in a frown. “Can’t I snuggle with my girlfriend?”
“That’s literally what you’ve been doing all this time.”
“Yes, but you haven’t been focusing on me properly!” He sighs loudly, letting you go, and throws himself down on the other end of the couch with a loud huff. “You know what, I think we really should talk about this.”
“Talk about what?”
“About how you’re not really cute these days!” He blurts out, hands moving animatedly as he speaks. “You used to be all fidgety and shy, blushing all the time whenever you see me—”
“In your head, maybe. I don’t recall ever doing that.”
“See, this!” He throws his hands in the air, exasperated. “This is what I’m talking about. You’re mean to me now! Not cute at all!”
“Is this our first fight?” You ask, yawning a little which makes your boyfriend gapes in disbelief. “Are we really fighting over the fact I’m not cute anymore? Seriously?” But when he becomes more upset, you break out in a grin. “I’m just messing with you.” Still laying down on the couch, you tug at his hand. “Come here.”
He crosses his arms on his chest. “No.”
“You don’t want your daily dose of my sweet, sweet loving?”
He shakes his head, his lower lip protruding. “Why should I be the one who needs to crawl over to you? This is your fault. You come here.”
You exhale loudly but on the inside, you can’t help but squeal he’s so fucking cute.
You’re not usually aggressive during make-out sessions—well, at least not with Donghyuck anyway. With Mark, you had to take a lead or else you’d just end up watching TV until you both pass out on the couch. But you decide to step up your game today because just as much as he likes to tease you, you also like to tease him.
“Fine,” you say, crawling over to the other side of the couch and settle yourself on his lap. You lay your hand on his shoulders, massaging the tense muscles. “Better?”
Donghyuck is still glowering at you in response so you decide to take a step further. “You look so hot without your clothes on,” you praise him, thanking God that your voice doesn’t stutter. Your fingertips draw a line from his Adam’s apple down to his chest. “But I guess you already know that seeing how many times you’re doing this on purpose.”
He scoffs, swatting your hand away before he crosses his arms in front of his chest. “Don’t touch me. I’m still pissed at you.”
You chuckle. “Ah, so no Hyuck’s loving for me tonight?”
“No Hyuck’s loving for the whole week.”
“You sure about that?” Toying with the buttons of your shirt, you wiggle your eyebrows seductively at him.
He hears the sound of your button being popped open but gives his best effort to keep his eyes away. “What are you doing?”
“Undressing myself.”
“Why?”
“Because my cute vampire boyfriend is upset,” you pause to stand on your knees, tugging the rest of your shirt out from your skirt before you discard it to the floor. “And I know this would please him.”
He instinctively turns to you, his nose almost grazing your bare stomach before he quickly looks away again, albeit tempted to suck bruises on the supple skin. Donghyuck’s eyes move to stare at the ceiling, gulping at the sound of you pulling down the zipper on your skirt to loosen the fabric before you push it up to your hips, giving him the chance to stare at your thighs when he wants.
“Hyuck,” you move your hips slightly, giving him enough friction to entice his mind. “Baby.”
Donghyuck tries his very best to avert his gaze to anything else besides the part that connects you to him. “No,” he repeats, clenching his jaw.
“But Hyuck…” You realize you’re practically moaning his name now and it’s both embarrassing and exciting that you can play the role of a seductress and having that kind of effect on him. Hooking a finger around your bra strap, you pull it down, exposing the joints between your neck and your shoulder. “Don’t you want me?”
He suddenly whines loudly, throwing his head back with his teeth gritting against one another as he murmurs “You’re unbelievable,” bitterly into the air but you can hear his confidence wavering. It only takes another grind of your hips against him before he snaps.
You’re suddenly thrown back to his bed before you know it. He was moving too fast for your eyes to process that you could only felt being carried for a split second before you have your back pressed against the sheets.
He’s hovering on top of you, your hips trapped between his knees. “You do realize,” he begins, “That I never just look at you as an object of sexual desire, right? You’re more than that to me.” He bends down, one hand curling against the front of your neck, his thumb tracing your beating vein. “Way, way more than that.”
His sincerity and serious demeanor catch you off guard. “Yeah, also as someone to fill your midnight cravings.”
“Of course not—”
“I’m kidding, I know.” Your playful gaze is replaced with a tender one. “But you always react like this whenever I tempt you that way so I couldn’t help but tease.”
He scrunches up his nose. “You’re not cute.” But the way he slots his mouth against yours speak nothing but praise and adoration. “You’re not cute at all.”
Surprisingly, Donghyuck is gentler after your first sexual encounter with him. Maybe it’s because he feels sorry for sucking too much blood and went a little rough when it was your first time on everything. You always try to convince him that it’s fine and it doesn’t hurt at all during the time you have sex with him—because the chemicals in his saliva triggered an endorphin rush, pumping pleasure all over your body—but seeing how you could barely walk on the next morning, Donghyuck decides to restrain himself.
You still remember the second time he decided to take a step further, about two weeks after your first intimate session with him. Donghyuck was at his very best behavior that night—making you dinner, listening to you complaining about your work, and swaying his body with you to the soft music he played in the background. Being in such close proximity, you couldn’t help but wonder why he never laid a hand on you again. He did drink from you, once every two days, but he always acted so rigid, so jittery when he held you to his chest, drinking from the side of your neck. You were awkward too, not sure how to place your hands or say something to break the tension. You could hear him swallowing, once, twice, taking a big gulp each time and you could feel yourself drowning in refined pleasure, losing track of the world from his bite.
Speaking of that, you notice one thing. This endorphin rush you feel every time he sinks his teeth into your skin also affects your sexual desire. You didn’t realize that before because you were having sex the first time he bit you. You finally understand why those slutty girls he brought home loved having their blood sucked by vampires. Sex with a vampire itself is transcendent, so having your blood sucked during sex? A dangerous, erotic, and lovely bliss.
But Donghyuck never touched you that way, that was the problem. Every time he finished drinking, he’d retract his fangs back, making you whimper at the loss of his effects on you and leaving you dizzy with blood loss. He’d wipe his mouth clean, tilt your face to check on your condition—which you always responded with a goofy smile as you reeled on the lingering sensation of his bite—and say, “I’m sorry that you had to do this for me. I’ll carry you back to your room. Hold on to me.” And you’d allow him to do just that, secretly hoping that he would join you in bed but he never did.
Was the sex not good? Were you too loud? Too whiny? Too docile? Were you too shy? Does he prefer his partner to take control in bed? Be more aggressive? These questions ran back-and-forth in your mind to the point that you began to have trouble sleeping.
So when two weeks had passed after that bathroom incident and nothing happened, you decided to bring the matter down to the table. You were craving for his touch, even more so when he looked so fucking good with his hair slightly pushed back, his shirt doing nothing at hiding the muscles in his arms, his face hovering just a few inches away from yours as he led you close in a slow dance. You just needed to ask before you went crazy.
“Why won’t you touch me?”
Donghyuck blinked. “What?”
“Why won’t you touch me?” You repeated, heat rising to your cheeks. “After that night in the bathroom, you never… made a move on me.”
That question should’ve triggered something sinful coming from his mouth, probably like, “Oh, so you want me to touch you? Enlighten me, Sweetheart, just how much do you want me? Where do you exactly want me to touch you?”
But Donghyuck actually just stood in silence with conflicted eyes. You had to call his name to force him to speak. “I don’t want to hurt you again.”
“You won’t hurt me—”
“No, you don’t understand.” He cupped the side of your face, thumb rubbing soothingly against your cheekbone. “Drinking your blood already makes me want to do crazy things to you. You’re so alluring, so…” He wetted his lip, his eyes going down to take in the shape of your mouth. “Intoxicating.” He moved his thumb to trace the smoothness of your lips. “I’m just afraid that I won’t be able to control myself when we take a step further than this. I don’t want to hurt you again like I did the first time.”
It’s funny how he mentioned the word intoxicating because that was how exactly you perceived him. His whole being was intoxicating, turning every sound in the room into a whisper, every bit of your surroundings into a blur. The world did not matter when you were with him, as it solely revolved around him.
So you yanked him down by the collar of his shirt, slotted your mouth against his, lips parting to taste a hint of the coppery flavor of your blood on his tongue. Donghyuck instinctively reacted by enclosing his arms along your waist, pulling you close until you breathed heavily against his mouth. He was a man of passion, burning like the sun, lips scorching as he met yours in a searing kiss.
He tried to break away, holding your wrist in the air. “Wait, stop—”
“I have an idea,” you immediately said, kissing him once again just because you couldn’t hold yourself away from the temptation. “I have an idea we can try, so—” Another kiss, but he was the one who initiated it this time. He pushed you against the wall, gentle but dominating, his knee slipping between your legs, pushing up the fabric of your dress. You moaned against his mouth, fingers fisting against his shirt, desperate for support. He slid both hands down your thighs, silky smooth against your skin, and lifted your legs in the air, forcing you to tangle them around his waist to maintain stability.
“Fuck,” you cursed under your breath, reeling in the way he peppered kisses from your jawline down to your neck, tongue lapping at a speck of dry blood on your marked skin. “Let’s go—ah—let’s go to your room—Hyuck—”
He was busy having his hand under your shirt, splaying his fingers on your stomach before they found their way up to your breast, but he heard your order. He carried you back to his room, lips never leaving yours and you found yourself pressed against the sheet the next time you blinked your eyes.
“Those handcuffs,” you gasped out between his smothering kisses. “Those handcuffs of yours that you keep in your closet. Use them.”
Donghyuck abruptly stopped, tugged himself away. “What?”
You were breathless and lightheaded, chest heaving up and down. “It upsets me to say this,” you confessed, “But I remember that time when we haven’t started dating, I found a pair of handcuffs in your closet and—”
“You went into my closet?”
“To clean your stuff. You had your clothes scattered all over the place so I had to fold them up and when I was about to put them back in, I saw them. I thought it was probably one of your kinks so I just shrugged it off. You honestly didn’t realize how clean and organized your closet was that day?”
“Well, I was never messy to begin with.”
“That’s bullshit and we both know it.”
He pouted, sighing. “Right, so you knew about my bondage kink. You’re telling me you want us to use it?” He gave you a look. “You had sex one time and you’ve already found yourself a kink? Seems like I underestimated your sexual curiosity, woman.”
“It’s not that.” You rolled your eyes. All of this rambling did not fuel your arousal, at all. “I want you to wear it.”
Donghyuck actually looked disgusted. “I like to tie my women, not being tied up, thank you very much.”
“You said you were scared of losing control, right? If you’re tied up, you won’t be able to hurt me.”
He snorted. “A cheap handcuff like that won’t be able to hold me down, Sweetheart.”
“But at least it serves as a reminder.” You laid your hand on his chest, drawing lines on the cold skin. “I mean, I’m fine whether you wear it or not. I just want to be with you.” You pulled him down into an innocent hug, but the way you were grinding your hips against him was anything but that. “But if you feel this,” you palmed his length through his jeans, forcing him to emit a groan from the back of his throat, “can make you lose control then maybe we should try my idea. I don’t want us to stop, Hyuck, and I don’t care if you break me.” You leaned in to bury your face in the juncture of his neck, whispering, “I just want to feel you inside me again.”
“Fuck.” He groaned loudly against your shoulder, fingers twisting against the sheet. “Okay, where’s that fucking handcuff—” The way he tumbled down the bed—a century-old vampire tumbling down the bed—makes you giggle, even more so when he frantically rummages his closet, throwing clothes here and there, muttering, “where is it, where is it, come on, come on, come on, where’s that fucking thing,” to himself, until he finally hooked his fingers around a pair of handcuffs, shouting, “YES, I FOUND THEM,” to the air.
He hurriedly went back to the bed, looking breathless when he wasn’t even breathing, and crawled on top of you again. He chased after your lips and your laughter soon reduced back into gasps and moans before he finally broke away, asking, “Okay, tie me up. Hurry.” You’d think that being alive for more than a century would’ve taught him some self-control, but Donghyuck was eager and desperate, way more than you were.
He flipped your body before you could prepare yourself so you yelped in surprise, landing on his chest as he laid himself down on the bed, his head nearly knocking against the headboard. He offered you his wrists, saying, “I’m all yours, Sweetheart.” And you gulped hard, heartbeat blasting through the roof, heat rising to your cheeks.
The handcuffs were made of steel, cold to the touch and you secretly thanked the Lord that they weren’t one of those furry ones you saw in porn movies. You were secretly drooling at the sight of your usually dominating boyfriend lying helplessly on the bed, waiting for you to take the lead; his broad chest displayed under your hands, with you straddling him by the hips. His shirt was slightly pushed up, showcasing his v-lines and his navel that usually stayed hidden underneath. You followed his happy trail, disappointed when it disappeared behind the hem of his jeans.
“Stop being so blatant about it.” His voice was velvety, thick with seduction. “You’re gonna make me blush.”
“I—I wasn’t staring.”
“Never said you were.”
It was annoying how easily he could make you feel all hot and flustered. “S-shouldn’t you take off your shirt first?”
He held back a smile. “I can fuck you just fine with my shirt on but sure, I’ll take it off.” There was something in the way he grabbed the back of his shirt before he pulled it over his head that made you blush, averting your gaze but managed to sneak a peek at the way the muscles on his abs were contracting under the movement.
“Baby?” He snatched you back to reality when a few seconds had passed in silence. “If you don’t tie me up now, I’m gonna tie you up and have my way with you.”
You blushed. That… actually doesn’t sound so bad. You shook your head. That can wait. With shaky fingers, you place one of the handcuffs around his wrist and tied the other one to his headboard. He tried to yank his hand free, testing the strength of it. “I can break this in a split second,” he commented, “But I guess it does work as a reminder.”
“Do you have another pair that I can use to tie your other hand?”
“Leave my other hand free,” he demanded, eyes gleaming as he gazed at you. “I want to touch you.”
You breathed heavily. “O-okay.”
“So,” he smiled, awkward and amused. “We’re doing this?”
You bit your lip, slowly nodding. “W-we’re doing this.”
“Aaw, nervous?” His laughter sounded light in your ears. “How cute.”
“Shut up.”
“Then, come here,” he invited, gesturing you to come close with one hand. “Kiss me.”
You didn’t waste a second longer.
His kiss was slower this time, almost shy as if it was the first kiss you shared with him and it somehow made your heart beat even faster. You could hear him chuckling against your mouth, probably noticing your heart rate and you slapped his chest playfully to stop him from hearing things he wasn’t supposed to.
“Ah, you’re cute, so cute,” he kept saying, tracing his tongue along your lower lip, begging for entrance. His kisses gradually became deeper, harder, and his muffled laughter was replaced with soft groans. His praise was reduced to your name and you sighed in pleasure when you felt his lips moving down your neck, grazing your beating vein.
The position felt a bit awkward but possibly because you had never done it with him before. You were lying on top of him, your body pressed hotly against his chest and although he was already half-naked, you were still fully clothed. You weren’t sure whether you should undress yourself or let him do the work, but could he do it with one hand?
You remembered the time when he ripped your camisole and bra at the same time with only his fingers.
Yes. Yes, he could.
But Donghyuck seemed to be aware of what you were thinking because he ordered you to, “Take your clothes off.”
“I’m—” Flabbergasted, you pulled away, sitting straight on his stomach. “C-can’t you just take them off for me?”
You could tell he was trying to hold back another smirk from breaking upon his face. “But baby,” he cooed, raising his free hand in the air. “I only have one hand.”
“You practically ripped my undergarments with one finger before.”
“Did I?” His smirk grew prominent. “I forgot.”
“You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“What, being straddled by my girlfriend as she tries to undress herself while I’m being tied up to the bed?” He shrugged nonchalantly. “Meh, it’s not bad.”
“Why you little—”
Donghyuck’s laughter was contagious when you tickled him on the sides of his stomach that you ended up smiling at him too but it soon faltered when he curled his fingers around your locks, bringing your head down to smash his lips against yours until they were red and bruised. You became nervous once again when he tugged on your shirt, silently ordering you to take it off.
“Okay,” you said, sitting on his stomach, fingers trembling slightly as they were fiddling around the top of your dress. “Can you… look away, please?”
“Why?”
“Because you’re making me nervous.”
“Baby,” he tittered, “Just in case you weren’t aware of this. Being your boyfriend means that I’m allowed to enjoy the sight of my girlfriend taking her clothes off.”
“M-maybe later in the future. Can you just look away now?” When he was still adamant about it, you added, “Please?”
He sighed. “Fine, but in the future don’t blame me if I ask you to strip-tease to make up for this.” He closed his eyes, lips pouting. “Also, this is the only time I’ll allow this to happen.”
“Two weeks in our relationship and you’re already ordering me around.”
“It’s not—” He groaned loudly, opening his eyes again to make sure you knew that he was glaring. “It’s not that. I just really want to look. There’s something sexy about girls taking their clothes off.”
“Girls?”
“I mean, you, baby. Only you.”
You gave him a flat look. “Whatever. Close your eyes.”
He jutted out his bottom lip but followed your command, while quietly repeating your line, “Two weeks in our relationship and you’re already ordering me around.”
“I heard that.”
“I heard that,” he mocked and you flicked him on his Adam’s apple until he whined.
Dating a brat was exhausting. Dating a bratty vampire was even more exhausting, but Donghyuck could also be charming and mature when he needed to be so you forgave him for that.
Seeing how he kept his eyes closed, you reached the end of your dress and pulled it off your head in one try. Strands of your hair were caught in the zipper, tugging at your scalp when you tried to unravel them in a hurry. Clicking your tongue in annoyance, you gave better effort to disentangled them with more patience.
“Need a hand, Sweetheart?”
You jolted, a squeak fell off your mouth. When you turned around to see him, your boyfriend was staring at you with a bratty grin on his face.
“Hey!” Flushed, you slapped him on the chest. “I didn’t tell you to look.”
“You told me not to look when you took your clothes off. You didn’t say anything about me staring at my cute girlfriend having the biggest crisis of her life.” His little laughter was just as annoying as it was charming. “Come here, I’ll help you.”
Your pride wouldn’t let you but you had spent minutes trying to break free from your stupid dress with no satisfying result so, with a heavy heart and a prominent scowl on your face, you bent down, leaning close to him until he could let his hand roam along your locks.
“This is so stupid,” you grumbled.
“I think it’s cute,” he chuckled, carefully unwinding the strands from your zipper. “This is the cutest you’ve ever been to me.”
You blushed slightly. Trying to avert your attention away, you began to focus on the sight in front of you. Pressed against his chest, your face was almost buried in the crook of his neck. You took the chance to press soft kisses on the cold skin, running your fingertips down from his collarbone to his navel.
“There, done,” he said, tossing the dress away without a care. He sounded a bit breathily when your teeth grazed against his neck. “Let’s not waste any more time. Come here, I need you.” The way he tugged you toward him by your elbow was firm but not forceful. And no matter how much you had kissed him already, he still loved the way you moved your lips against his and never wanted it to stop.
Being on top of him didn’t necessarily mean you were in control. Even with one hand tied, Donghyuck knew how to lead, whispering guidance here and there, sometimes in the way that made you blush from how specific his orders were. Before you knew it, you were both fully naked, with you sitting on his thighs, stroking at his length as directed.
Donghyuck shivered under your touch, his eyes half-lidded in pleasure. “You—” He had to nip on his bottom lip to contain his groan when you swiped your thumb along his slit. “You don’t happen to have any lube with you, do you?”
You were so captivated by the way he looked, all needy under your fingers, that he had to call you by your name to gather your focus back to his question. “Oh, n-no. Why?” You stroked him faster, curling your fingers a little bit tighter around his length.
Donghyuck threw his head back, eyebrows adjoined in the middle. “Fuck,” he hissed, eyes glazed and when they peered back into yours, they were glowing brightly in topaz—almost golden, and brighter from the dim lighting of his room. “Well then,” he heaved, wetting his lip. “I guess, we’ll do it the old school way. Turn your body around for me.”
“What?”
“I want to be romantic and use pretty words, but desperate times need desperate measures so get your ass over here,” he gestured with his hand for you to come over to his face, “and your face over there.”
Steam practically came out of your ears from how ashamed you were. “What?!”
“I need to make you wet and you need to coat my dick with saliva so it won’t hurt when I get inside you.”
He wasn’t joking when he said he wasn’t going to be romantic about it. How the fuck can he say something like that so easily?! “I—I can’t,” you were practically wheezing, “It’s too embarrassing—I—”
“If you don’t want to suck my dick, you can just spit on your hand and—”
“I’m more worried about sitting on your face—”
“Oh, no need to worry about that.” He gave you a reassuring smile which somehow upsets you even more. “It’s actually something I’ve been imagining to happen—”
“Oh my God—”
“Would you stop freaking-out and listen to me, please?” He was laughing and you were having a seizure. “Babe, relax. Trust me, it will feel good.”
You had no doubts about that but still, it didn’t suddenly make it easy for you to just naturally sit on his face. But to be honest, the thought of it was as exciting as it was embarrassing and with Donghyuck being relaxed about it—not making this into such a big deal, unlike how Mark reacted when anything sexual occurred—you couldn’t help but succumb to your own curiosity.
“Okay,” you pressed a hand against your chest. “Just let me calm myself down a little.”
He suppressed a smile. “You’re having a crisis again?”
“Shut up.”
No matter how much you tried to compose yourself, you couldn’t. You became even more nervous, and you thought that wasn’t possible. The naughty twinkle in Donghyuck’s eyes gradually turned tender and he reached out a hand. “Here, let me help you relax.”
You let him take hold of your wrist, bringing it to his face. He kissed your inner palm before he dragged his lips down to your wrist, his eyes peering into yours as he did it. You could feel his lips turning into a faint smile as they grazed your skin but on the next second, he bared his teeth, extended his fangs, and punctured your skin with them.
“Hyuck—” You yelped from the pain but soon began to lose yourself to the ecstasy of his bite. You could feel all the knots in your body started to loosen one-by-one, your mind becoming hazy with bliss.
Donghyuck didn’t sink his teeth too deep and didn’t drink too much, only a gulp and nothing more even when his eyes were glowing bright, gravely needing another taste of your blood. He lapped at the wound, kissing the bite mark he made on your skin. “How do you feel?”
“I’m…” Your eyes began to droop, blinking slowly. “Great…. I feel great…”
He chuckled at your words. “That’s good to hear,” he said, “Now turn around and lower yourself on my face.”
You could barely hear him but you got the picture. As if hypnotized, you felt your body moved even before you could finish your thought. Donghyuck’s free hand was placed on the inner part of your thigh as you hovered above his head, spreading your legs apart. “Come down here, Sweetheart, I don’t bite.” You couldn’t see his face but you could tell he was smirking, and if you weren’t this intoxicated, you would’ve smacked him with the nearest pillow over his poor choice of words. But the effects of his bite and the rush of endorphin that were still coursing through your veins made you follow his commands without further question.
You were balancing yourself with your hands on his stomach as he ran his tongue along your folds, tasting you just a little bit but you already shivered at the sensation. “Hyuck…”
He hummed in response, sounding like he was having the time of his life, pushing your thigh further apart so you could lower yourself more, his tongue dipping into your heat this time.
You were going insane, you could feel it. Breathing heavily, you decided to focus on a task at hand. You curled your fingers around his length, thumb brushing against the slit again because you knew how much he liked it before, and you could feel him moan before you could hear him.
You gave a tentative lick on the head, kissing his tip before running your tongue along the vein. Your fingers were stroking the area your tongue didn’t cover and you could hear him purring in content. After a brief second of self-preparation, you parted your lips and tried to go down on him in one try. Donghyuck threw his head back against the sheet, groaning loudly between a train of expletives, so sexy and obscene.
Hearing his moans encouraged you to do better so you tried to swallow him whole again. You could feel his tip hitting the back of your throat, making you tear up a little bit from the discomfort but you hollowed your cheeks and swallowed around him.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Donghyuck swore, his grip around your thigh grew tighter that it made you flinch but you continued with your ministration, bringing your hand into the game this time. It was so exciting, the sensation of having him dissolve into a groaning mess under your touch so you stroked him faster, sucked him harder, and continued even when he was practically whimpering in ecstasy.
As an act of revenge, Donghyuck licked his way deep into you with his free hand pumping a finger inside you and adding another one soon after. When you moaned around him, it urged him to go faster, his digits were now scissoring inside of you.
You were practically crying by the time he told you to stop, urging you to turn around to face him because “I want to see your face when you come.” You positioned yourself on top of his length, cheeks bright red from all the passion and lust you have swirling inside your chest, and slowly sank yourself down.
Donghyuck’s handcuff was rattling against the headboard as he reeled in the sensation. His fangs were extended once again, his eyes glowing almost dangerously as he gazed at you from behind his bangs. “Fuck, you’re so—“ he hissed, his eyes going down to the part where you were connected to him. “How can you be so sexy without trying—”
The way he twitched inside of you made you quiver, and you tumbled down to his chest, your face closing in on him. He met you halfway when you sent him a signal to kiss you, smothering you with his lips, wet with tongues and painted with both desperation and urgency.
“Move,” he ordered, his voice suddenly turning low and perilous. “Baby, move for me, please.”
You granted his wish, wincing at the feeling of him growing larger inside you. The friction still burned so you tried to muffle your cry with his kisses, but after a few shallow thrusts, you could finally feel yourself relaxing, adjusting to his length.
“Faster,” he urged, unconsciously tried to hold your hips with both hands and groaned loudly when his handcuff pulled his hand back to the headboard. “Dammit. Baby, please, move faster.”
“Be patient,” you said between small gasps. Your nails were almost sinking to his chest. “It’s only my second time, Hyuck. Let me do it at my own pace.”
He initially groaned in protest, eyes tightly shut with his eyebrows furrowed but when he managed to collect himself, he apologized, "You're right, I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm so hasty, you just make me feel so—" His jaw hung low when he felt you move, and by the time you began to clench your walls around him, he took his bottom lip between his teeth, leaning his head back against the headboard, relishing the moment.
As you steadied yourself with your hands on his chest, grinding your hips against him, you admired the details of his profile—his sultry half-lidded eyes, his plump lips, his cute front teeth that peeked out when he parted his lips in a silent moan, the tiny moles on his jaw and neck. He was both handsome and cute, and you were lucky—so damn lucky—to be able to witness these details with your own eyes.
“Fuck, I can’t—“ His voice startled you, snapping you out from your reverie. “I can’t do it like this. I’m gonna go crazy. Can you get off for a second?”
You were frowning but his urgency made you follow with a nod. You let him slid off of you, wincing slightly at both the pain and the loss of him. Donghyuck shifted his body until he was sitting on the bed, his spine pressed against the headboard. “Okay, come here,” he said, patting his thigh twice. You crawled over to his lap as requested, sitting on your knees as he held his length in one hand, positioning it over your entrance. You lowered yourself down, adjusting to his size once again and wrapping your arms around his neck for support.
“I can never get used to the feeling of you taking me in like that,” he murmured against your ear. “You’re so fucking tight.”
The new position allowed you to embrace him properly and you took advantage of it, meshing your lips with him as you bounced up and down, your breasts pressing against his chest. His free hand was urging you to move faster, nails sinking into the skin and you complied, trying to move as fast you can. “Yes,” he moaned, mouthing against your shoulder. “Just like that. You’re so good.”
The sounds he was making were so erotic that they made you weak. When he felt your movements gradually became slower, he began to buck his hips forward, thrusting into you hard while holding you firmly with one hand.
He nearly broke his handcuff from how desperate he was in wanting to hold you tightly with both hands, fucking you senselessly like how did with you before in the bathroom. But the way the steel was nearly sinking into his skin reminded him of the sole purpose of having it around his wrist. Feeling restrained only made his thrusts grow even more frantic, pushing your hips down to meet his at such a quick pace.
“Wait—” Taken by surprise, you clutched your arms tightly around him. “Hyuck—”
He suddenly sank his teeth on the skin under your jaw, between the earlobe and the collarbone and you nearly jumped out of your skin. For half an instant, it was agonizing. Painful and horrible. And then, just like that, the pain disappeared. He swallowed twice, moaning against your skin, his thrusts going out of rhythm.
The rush of endorphin helped to push you to the brink, clouding your thoughts and you couldn't tell where your body ended and his began but it didn't matter. That was how you always wanted it to be anyway. Donghyuck's lascivious grunts tugged on your heartstrings and with a couple of his hard thrusts, you began to shake. "H-Hyuck, I think I'm gonna—"
His mouth was still on your neck, now sucking bruises with his cuspids threatening to puncture. "Come, baby."
You came undone, body trembling with the biggest orgasm you’d ever felt. Donghyuck moaned your name against your ear when he felt you clenching and shaking around him. “God, that felt so good,” he said, still moving his hips, not caring if you were still sensitive after your orgasm. “You feel so good around me. Fuck, I want to do this again and again—I want to feel you more—I want to break you—”
And when his hips began to stutter, you knew he was close. He pulled you into a messy kiss where you could taste copper on his tongue but you didn’t mind and bounced faster on his lap, driving him to the edge.
You were startled by the sound of him breaking free from his handcuff with a hard yank of his wrist, but before you could react, he was pushing you off his lap, forcing you to stand with your knees on the bed, facing the headboard. Still reveling in the aftershock of your orgasm, your legs almost gave out on you so you placed both hands on the wall for support. "Hyuck—"
He was almost growling when he placed both hands on your hips and pushed himself back in a way that was so forceful, you ended up having your upper body pressed against the wall. He brought your hips closer to his, his tongue trailed against the dip of your spine, and you begged him to, "S-slow down, I just came—" but all that he did was the opposite. He snapped his hips forward, knocking the breath out of your lungs with each pound while murmuring, "Just a little bit more, baby," with so much lust and avidity. You gritted your teeth, curling your fingers against the railing of your headboard as if you were hanging on for dear life. Everything felt so good, so fucking good that you began to part your mouth in a silent scream.
With his head dangling forward, glowing eyes covered with his fringe, and your name tumbling down his lips in a soft, throaty moan, he came.
***
“How are you feeling?”
Dazed and completely fucked-out, you thought, but only answered with, “Tired.”
“Are you hurt somewhere?”
You shook your head.
“Thank God,” Donghyuck pulled you closer by the waist, both of your naked bodies were buried under the blanket. “I kind of lost control at the end.” He sheepishly chuckled at himself. “You were so hot when you came.”
“Shut up.” But that only made him laugh a bit louder. He pried your hands away before you could bury your face in them and cupped your cheek so you could do nothing but stare back at him.
“Is it too fast to say I love you?” He asked and his eyes were sincere but you were too embarrassed to respond properly so you pushed your palm to his face, pushing him away.
“Of course, it’s too fast. We’ve only started dating for like what, two weeks?” But the way your heart almost leaped in joy betrayed you. You turned away from him, focusing your gaze on the bed lamp on his nightstand instead of his face. “If you tell me in like a year or something, maybe I’ll believe you.”
His laughter was warm, a stark contrast to how his skin felt under your touch. He leaned close, lips brushing against your hair as he embraced you close to his chest. “Then I’ll say it every day until you say it back to me next year,” he said, voice gentle and sincere. “I love you, baby.”
“Ugh, you’re gross.”
“There you go, playing hard to get again.” He whispered the next words with his lips brushing your earlobe. “Your ears are going red, though.”
“I’m going to kick you.”
“Well, I’m going to love you.”
But you kicked him anyway. The playful punches and kicks under the blanket managed to ease the tension, and before long, you were back to exchanging nonsensical banters with him again. The sunrise was still three hours away and even though your eyes were a bit heavy with sleep, your body exhausted beyond belief, you tried to keep yourself awake to spend a moment longer with him. You didn’t have any schedule the next morning anyway, so you could sleep to make up for the time you spent.
“Hyuck?”
“Yeah?”
“There’s… something I’ve been wanting to ask you for a while but I couldn’t since I felt so embarrassed about it.”
“Oh? It’s not often you’re honest like this.” He smirked, pushing the bangs out of your eyes. “What is it?”
“Did you…” You cleared your throat, trying not to be awkward. “Did you get to come when we had sex the first time?”
He blinked twice, startled. “Oh… I didn’t, actually.” He timidly smiled. “You kind of passed out during that time and I didn’t have the heart to continue so I just carried you back to your room.”
With cheeks turning scarlet, you squeezing his hand. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He pecked you on the nose. “It was my fault anyway. I shouldn’t have taken so much of your blood.” He gradually grew more serious. “I guess I’ve never thanked you for that, huh?” He tucked some strands of your hair behind your ear. “Thank you for giving me your blood. You’re literally the reason why I’m still alive to this day.”
“You’re welcome.” You mirrored his smile. “I have two other questions if you don’t mind.”
“Shoot.”
“Can vampires actually come?” You had to look away, noticing how stupid your questions was and added, “I mean, like, properly? Like humans do?”
“What, you didn’t feel it when I came inside you just now?”
You blushed madly. “I was too dizzy from the bite to notice.”
“Right, you passed out too. Again.” And before you could shout out your protest, he muffled your lips with his. “Of course, we can, Sweetheart. What, are you interested in making me come again?”
You gulped. “M-maybe later.” When you noticed him raising an eyebrow, you mentally slap yourself in the face.” I-I mean, not that I’m suggesting we should have sex again after this—”
“Oh? I was willing, though.” His godforsaken smirk should be banned from this world. Earning another punch to his stomach, he asked with a wince, “What’s the other question?”
You were still pouting from before but you asked, “Can vampires impregnate humans?”
“So eager to have my baby already? Two weeks in our relationship? Really?”
“Do you want to be punched again?”
“By your lips? Yes, plea—Aaw, hey, that hurts!” As he tried to soothe the pain away from the punch you landed on his chest, he added, “To answer your question, no. We don’t breed that way. Vampires are turned, not born.”
“How can you be so sure?”
He laughed. “Trust me, if vampires could get humans pregnant, then I would father hundreds of Hyuck babies by now.”
The thought of him having sexual relationships with other women in a way that was probably much hotter than yours made your heart drop to your stomach. There was an unfamiliar pain in your chest, pumping jealousy and resentment to your veins, clouding your thoughts with images of him lying in bed with naked women.
You turned away to face the ceiling, not saying a word. Donghyuck seemed to notice the way you got all tense and rigid so he laced your fingers with his, bringing your knuckles to his lips. “There’s only you now, you know that, right? For me, there’s only you.”
You nodded but only so slightly, still felt uneasy. You knew that it wouldn’t be fair to be mad at him about this—it’s not like he was cheating behind your back. And he’d lived for more than a century, of course, he had plenty of both romantic and sexual relationships. You were just upset because he was your first and that meant the whole world to you, but you weren’t even included in the top 10—or 100, even.
Donghyuck eyed you in concern and carefully wrapped an arm around your stomach, fingertips trailing around your navel. “Did you realize that,” he began, voice soft and tender, “a few months before we started dating, I stopped bringing girls to our apartment? I switched entirely to blood bags to the point I had to spend all my money. Do you know why I did that?”
You turned to him, snuggling close but still wasn’t brave enough to make eye contact. “Why?”
He had his lips brushed against your temple as he spoke. “Because it felt wrong. Every time I got together with someone, I thought about you. When I drank their blood, I thought about how your blood would taste like in my mouth. When I held them, I thought about what kind of face would you make as you writhed underneath me. When they moaned out my name, I thought about how hot would it be if it tumbled out from your lips instead. You, with that cute voice of yours.”
You blushed from ear-to-ear. “I-Is that so…”
He smiled a little, probably noticing how loudly your heart was thumping inside your chest. “I had to stop entirely when I accidentally moaned your name during sex. Man, she was so pissed.”
You nearly fainted from the sheer embarrassment. “How can you say these things so nonchalantly?”
“I’m actually pretty shy about it.” And this time he did sound sheepish. He lowered his head down, lips lingering close, nearly grazing the vein that beats faintly under your neck. “So don’t think about my past too much, because I’ve been thinking about you—only you—for a while now.”
You shivered, his lips ghosting over your skin. “Cool.”
Donghyuck pulled away, scrunched up his nose. “Cool?”
“Yeah.”
“I literally just poured all my feelings out to you, embarrassingly so, and your response is cool?”
You gave him your signature ignorant shrug. “Well, I’ve known for a while that you had a crush on me. I’m flattered. Thanks.”
“You’re so—” He attacked you with playful pokes and tickles, hands fumbling all over the place until you both ended up falling from the bed, laughing against each other’s mouth.
***
“Babe, you ready?”
You push your door open at the sound of his call, still struggling with tidying your bangs so they can frame your face perfectly. You’re about to go on a date with your boyfriend and this is the first time he actually asks you out properly. You’ve gone out many times with him before but it was always either to shop for groceries or have dinner in the cheap Chinese restaurant nearby.
So you kind of dressed up all the way, curling your hair and tying it up in a perfect ponytail—because you know just how much he likes seeing your neck exposed—wearing minimal make-up but with bright red lipstick, and a matching red off-shoulder dress that highlights your collarbones.
“Do you think this is too much?” You ask from the bathroom, still busy trying to put on your earring. When you’re done, you walk back to the living room, approaching his spot. “You haven’t told me where we’re going so I’m not sure what to wear—” You catch the way he’s looking at you, wide-eyed with lips parted in awe. “W-what is it? Are you thirsty again?”
He blinks himself awake. “For blood? Nope. For you?” He’s not subtle at all with his staring, eyes going up and down your body, committing every feature to his memory. “Parched.”
“If you’re gonna be this embarrassing the whole date, I’d choose to stay home, thank you very much.”
“What, can’t a man appreciate his girlfriend’s beauty?”
“Sometimes just a simple, you look nice, is enough.”
He chuckles softly, closing the space between you and running his thumb along your cheekbone as he cups your face. “I want to kiss you and ruin your lipstick so badly,” he murmurs, eyes almost glowing. The way he brings his lower lip between his teeth as he stares at you in a daze makes your stomach flip in delight. “But you look very beautiful right now and it would be a waste. I’ll wait until the end of our date. Then, I’ll savor every bit of you.” He leans in to whisper close in your ear, his smirk grazing against your earlobe. “In any way possible.”
You yank him by the hand, pulling him towards the door. “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go.”
You can’t wait until your date is over.
***
Donghyuck reeks with charms and allures. You notice that, certainly, but unfortunately for you, so do other people because he is gathering attention from every woman he passes by on the street—even some men. He’s just walking along the pavements in his black ripped jeans and denim jacket, but he makes it look like a fashion show. He’s deep in concentration, thumb sliding on his phone’s screen as he searches for the location of the place he’s planning to take you. His brooding look makes you swoon but you try to be subtle about it, unlike those females who pass by, practically undressing him with their eyes.
You’re uncomfortable and jealous but you try to keep yourself composed. “Is it far from here?”
“Just a couple of blocks,” he answers, smiling as he tucks his phone back. “Are you hungry? Do you want to stop by and grab some dinner before we go?”
You’ve lost your appetite. “I’ll eat on our way back.”
“You sure?”
You respond with a nod but he seems worried. You notice some people whispering behind your back, questioning with a mocking tone about your status with this God-like male in front of you and you couldn’t help but to sigh. “Can we go now?” Your tone sounds a bit cold even to your own ears, and you feel sorry because this is not how you planned your date night to go.
Donghyuck must have noticed the silent chatters, or at least, the hurting look on your face. Taking a hold of your wrist, he pulls you forward until you stumble to his chest and kisses your lips. You swear you could hear people gasping at that, but you don’t care. You don’t care that he’s kissing you in public, on the side of the street, with his hand secured tightly around your waist. You don’t care if your lipstick is ruined, though he kisses you softly to make sure it stays intact. And you don’t care if people are questioning his sanity for dating a girl like you because Donghyuck belongs to you and he’s proud of showing that to the world.
When he lets you go, your lips are curving up into a grin, cheeks reddening both from the cold and his touch. “You have lipstick on you,” you say, tiptoeing on your feet to brush the stain off his lips with your thumb, and Donghyuck, with that sexy, mischievous twinkle in his eyes, parts his lips, playfully placing your thumb between his teeth just a second before he lets it slide away. Your head is about to explode from how sexy he just looked and he chuckles at the sight, pecking you on the forehead once. “Let’s go, baby.” He strokes your hair before he lets his hand slide down to your waist again, walking next to you with your body pressed close to his side.
It turns out your boyfriend is taking you to a photo studio which is quite huge for a normal photo shoot. As you see so many staff, models, and photographers around you, walking back-and-forth in the studio to make sure everything is in order, you begin to realize. “Are you—”
“Yep,” he beams at you, proudly. “I’ve got a modeling gig.”
Your eyes grow wide because by the brand logo that you see plastered all over the place—on the back of the chairs, the doors, embossed in articles of clothing—it’s one of the top designer brands in the country. “What—how—” You’re flabbergasted. “How did you get this job?”
“I got cast on the street.” He simply shrugs. “It’s a one-time gig though, so nothing serious. But it is my first time so I’m pretty nervous about it, which is why I brought you along.” He swats the bangs out of your eyes, looking apologetic. “I’m sorry. This is probably not how you imagined our date night was going to be.”
“No, but this is better.” Your eyes are scanning the place. “Look at all these models! They’re so beautiful—Oh my God, I know him!” You almost jump on your feet at the sight of a famous model getting his hair fixed by his stylist. “Isn’t he the one who was on the cover of W Magazine last month? Oh my God.”
“Hey, hey, hey, hey,” Donghyuck pulls you back by the fabric of your dress. “I didn’t invite you to ogle at another man’s body.”
“It’s not his body, Hyuck. It’s his face, look at him!” You gesture toward the man with a sigh. “Look at those cheekbones, sweet Lord. His jawline has me feeling like sliced bread.”
Donghyuck snorts loudly. “Are you an idiot?”
“Might as well be. Can you get me his autograph?”
“I’m leaving.” And he really walks away, just like that, with his hands tucked inside the pocket of his jeans, and a scowl on his face.
“Wait, I’m sorry,” you hurriedly say, taking a hold of his arm. “Good luck with the photo shoot. I know you’d be amazing.”
He’s still not happy when he looks at you but he sighs, patting your head. “Thanks. You can wait for me in the hall. I think they have snacks and stuff.”
“Can’t I just linger around here?”
“To see me or to see him?”
“To see you, of course.” There’s no hesitation in your voice. “Seeing him is just a bonus. You’re my number one, Hyuck.”
He leers at you with suspicious eyes, still not one hundred percent pleased or convinced. “Well, I have to go. I need to change and get my make-up done.”
“Wait.” you hold him back again. “Do these people here know you’re, you know, not human?”
“No, and I intend to keep it that way. So, if you could just not mention it again, that’d help.”
You nod but when he’s about to part ways again, you reach out to him once more.
“What?” He whines, groaning. “I really have to—”
You stand on your toes and interrupt him with a kiss, hands winding around his neck. It’s just your lips meeting his for a few seconds and nothing more, but it’s still painted thickly with passion and desire.
“Good luck,” you whisper with a shy smile. He’s left a bit dazed but eventually nods his head. When he walks away, he rubs his nape, a gesture he tends to make whenever he’s flustered. You grin proudly to yourself. He’s wrapped around your fingers just as much as you are around his.
After half an hour has passed, you see Donghyuck walking back into the studio in a new outfit that makes him look so goddamn attractive that it literally steals your breath away. He’s wearing all black, from his turtle neck shirt, his khaki pants, his suit, even his hair looks somehow darker. He’s absolutely gorgeous, even the male photographer has to stop and stare for a good few seconds before he remembers to adjust his lenses.
Donghyuck poses naturally in front of the camera and it startles you how a simple pose could look so beautiful when it’s done by him. He unbuttons his suit, lets it falls off his shoulder, his eyes half-lidded as he stares into the camera—everything that he does reeks masculinity and femininity at the same time and you don’t know if that’s even possible. You’ve known that his body proportions are insane but this outfit just highlights every inch of his body that needs to be appreciated.
A staff hands him a rose and he brings it close to his face, his lips grazing against the petal—making him look like a painting. His usual cheeky grin has vanished without a trace and the way he stares back at the camera—both enchanting and challenging—sends shivers down your spine.
Fuck, how is he so hot?
Two hours long photoshoot feels like a minute to you and you’re feeling a bit dazed when it’s over. Donghyuck walks over to your spot, pushing up his long sleeves to his elbows. “Hey,” he says, smiling a little. “Sorry, did I make you wait long?”
“Oh… Umm…” You’re blushing and you don’t know why. You’re just suddenly overwhelmed with his presence. “Y-you were…” Fantastic. Breathtaking. Absolutely gorgeous. Please take me home and have me as dessert. “You were good.”
“Good?” He raises an eyebrow, making you gulp. “That’s it?”
“I…” Your fingers are curling against the fabric of your dress. “You were great.”
Donghyuck seems a bit amused until he realizes something. He leans close, making you flinch when he takes a sniff near your neck. “Why do you smell like you’re…” A smirk creeps up his face. “Aroused?”
Yes, okay, just kill me. Kill me now. “I’m not—”
“Seems like someone is enjoying this photoshoot too much.”
You’re about to combust into flames. “Are you done? Can we go home now?”
“You want to go home? And do what?” He bites the corner of his lip as he tries to contain his grin. “Enlighten me, Baby.”
He’s seducing you, torturing you, and he’s enjoying every second of it. “Fine, then. I’ll walk home by myself.”
But as you turn around on your heels, Donghyuck grabs you by the wrist and pulls you forward to match his step, going in the opposite direction of where you were planning to go. “Wha—where are you taking me?!”
He shushes you quickly and makes a turn, barging into one of the changing rooms that models often use to get prepared for the photoshoot. The room is bright with fluorescent lights, though not as spacious as you’d thought it would be, but the only thing that matters now is that it’s unoccupied.
Donghyuck kicks the door closed with his feet before he pushes you against it, lips meeting you in a searing kiss as he locks the door behind you. “Your scent,” he breathlessly says against your mouth, running his tongue along your lower lip. “It’s so thick with lust.” If it’s as thick as the teasing tone in his voice, you’re so doomed. “Are you okay, baby?”
“Shut up.” You kiss him, fisting the fabric of his shirt before you pull it off his head. Your hands immediately go down to his chest, caressing his stomach before they circle his neck again. “If we’re gonna do this then hurry up and fuck me.”
A small laugh reverberates from his chest. “So aggressive. And to think you were so shy yesterday.”
“Shut up. Does sex usually involve this much talking?”
“With me, it does.” He purrs against your ear, tugging your earlobe between his teeth. “Because then I get to see more of your expressions.” His tongue feels hot and dangerous on your sensitive skin. “You’re so fucking cute when you blush, but you being aggressive like this isn’t too bad.”
“Shut up, shut up, shut up.” You’re already dying from shame and his unnecessary comments only fuel it even more. “Are we really—” you gasp when he pushes you up the wall, and you quickly tangle your legs around his waist for balance, the back of your red heels pressing against his spine. “Are we really doing this? Here?”
“Of course, we’re doing this.” His hands are sliding dangerously along your thighs, pushing the fabric of your dress up your body until it pools around your waist. “I’ve been wanting to do this ever since you laid your eyes on him.”
“What—” You throw your head back, making a soft thud when it meets the door. Hopefully, no one catches that. “You mean that model? I was just kidding—”
“Kidding?” He slips two of his fingers inside his mouth, coating them with saliva and it’s so sensual, the sight of him, that only seeing him do that already makes you feel sinful. He slides his hand down between your legs, wet fingers immediately finding their way to your heat from the side of your lingerie. “I don’t think it was funny.” He inserts his first digit, making you sink your nails into his shoulders. “Do you, baby?”
You’re breathing hard, temple pressing against his. When he feels you stretched enough, he adds another one. “Baby, I asked you a question,” he chuckles, scissoring his fingers inside you. “Do you think it was funny?”
“No.” You shake your head, a sob nearly escapes your lips. The mixed feelings of being dominated, teased and pleasured at the same time make you feel lightheaded, and he hasn’t even drunk from you yet. “I-I’m sorry.”
“Aaw, but I’m not mad,” he coos, kissing you softly on the corner of your lips. “I’m a bit pissed-off but certainly not angry.”
His words are doing very little in reassuring you but you’re too busy focusing on the way he’s pumping his fingers in and out, his thumb rubbing fervently against your clit. “Hyuck—”
“Sssh.” He perks up, his movements stop abruptly. “Someone’s here.”
You mouth What?! in horror, about to shove him away so you can land back on your feet and fix your clothes and hair but he keeps you still. He presses his body harder, one hand holding the back of your thigh while his other one still lingers near your lingerie. There’s absolutely no way you can fight his superhuman strength.
Within the next few seconds, you can hear the clicking of heels meeting the marbled floor and you hold your breath, fingers shaking but the rest of your body is still. Donghyuck keeps his gaze on you, his eyes unwavering as he tries to read the situation.
“Hey, it’s locked. Why is it locked?”
“I don’t know. It wasn’t locked before.”
Two female voices can be heard from exactly behind you and you’re about to break out in a cold sweat. If you breathe just a little bit harder, they probably can hear you. Donghyuck notices the way your breathing tatters and with a gleam in his eyes, he smirks.
And moves his fingers again.
Your hand immediately shifts from his shoulder to his wrist, trying desperately to keep it from moving. Your eyes are throwing ice daggers as you mouth don’t you fucking dare to him but his sly grin only gets wider. He leans in to pepper sultry kisses on your jawline, up to your ear, whispering, “Keep your voice down.” And though he speaks reassurance, his fingers are not.
He slides one between your folds, tentatively pressing into your heat before he drags it back, heel continues to add pressure to your clit. It’s when he inserts the digit back into you that you begin to flinch. He helps muffle your voice down with his kisses first but when you truly need to be silenced, he pulls away, enjoying the view of your cheeks turning scarlet, bangs sticking to your temple with sweat, and adding another finger into your warmth.
“So cute,” he whispers, his eyes are starting to glow. You notice that their color changes depending on what he’s feeling. They glow when he’s thirsty, that much is obvious, but there’s also one other condition. The more he’s aroused, the brighter they get, almost turning topaz entirely, and soon his cuspids will follow, extending to take a bite. He still has his fangs retracted, but his eyes are gradually gleaming brighter as he takes in your expressions. “So pretty…” The way he praises you is almost like he’s in a haze. “I love seeing you like this.”
“What to do? My purse is inside.”
“Shall we ask around for the key?”
You’re so scared, terrified beyond belief and Donghyuck is savoring every moment of you trying to contain your moans. “Aaw, they’re going to open the door,” he murmurs against your ear. “What do you think we should do, baby?”
Fuck if I know. Your eyes are closed shut, your fingers curling against his nape. He licks a stripe up your neck, moaning softly from the desire to fill his mouth with your blood. “I know one thing for sure,” he swallows, wetting his lip. “I need to make you come first.”
Donghyuck always lives up to his promise. He knows what he’s doing and it feels extremely pleasant having his fingers deep inside you but you can’t give yourself into the pleasure entirely from the fear of being caught. But as he goes faster, now focusing more on playing with your clit, you feel fire coursing through your veins, loosening the knot in your stomach, and out of panic, you bite him hard on the part where his neck meets his shoulder, muffling your moan as you come onto his hand.
You can feel him flinching, a low grunt erupting from the back of his throat but you’re too dazed to notice. When the aftertaste of your orgasm starts to decrease, Donghyuck lets you down to the floor. You have to keep your hold on him as your legs wobble under your weight and when you look up, you see him with his fangs fully extended, his eyes glowing as bright as the sun.
“Hyuck—“ He bites into your skin without permission, and he does it fiercely, sloppily, that your blood begins to taint your dress. You’re grateful that it’s at least in the same color as your blood so a few drops won’t be noticed. The rush of endorphin calms your nerves, almost leaving your senses dull and you slide down to the floor, your spine still pressed against the door.
When he pulls away, he lets his tongue runs along his lower lip, wiping it clean from your blood. His eyes are strictly golden.
“My turn now.”
***
#haechan smut#haechan fluff#fullsunnet#lee haechan#nct scenarios#nct imagines#haechan scenarios#haechan imagines#haechan#lee donghyuck#haechan nct#nct smut#Haechan x reader#haechanxreader#nct fluff#nct timestamps#nct blurbs#haechan timestamps#haechan blurbs#haechan fics#nct fics#nct dream#nct#nct 127#Craving a.k.a the unneeded sequel of Love Bites#there's no plot it's just me writing down my fantasies#seriously guys I got so many messages of you all being thirsty for more vampire!hyuck that I had to write one#and yes the outfit he wore during the photoshoot is the one from his nct dream season greetings 2020 photoshoot#we all know how HOT he looked in that one#i don't know if this is any good and it's long i know but i hope it's not as boring as i think it is
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wangxian fic rec list!
aka in which i read fics, write some recs down for aamna and share them!! they're all wangxian fics and uhh @yibobibo i hope you'll like them!!
modern
wolf devours playboy bunny by @greenteafiend (5K, werewolf!lwj, getting together, idk if anyone needs to know that but there's nudity just not uhh explicit)
Lan Zhan has wanted Wei Ying as long as he has known him, and the worst part is that he thinks Wei Ying could want him back.
Too bad he could never in good conscience let himself go there—Wei Ying has a debilitating fear of all things canine, and once a month, Lan Zhan is the exact, precise thing that Wei Ying’s nightmares are made of.
Aka, Lan Zhan is a werewolf.
between the lines by @jywait (19K gaming au!!!, i'm always down for a good gaming au, lwj is the best aksks he's such a good boy)
☆yilingpatriarch☆: pls...give me some face, help me fight these monsters...I'm gonna die
Bluetooth: no.
"You have died." The screen said, and Wei Wuxian threw his hands up in frustration.
resonant frequencies by chinxe (15K, college au, fake dating au, tw mention of cheating but it's brief and no one was cheated on i promise)
In which Wei Wuxian decides that the best way to deal with being in love with Lan Wangji is to pretend to date him for three weeks.
It goes about as well as can be expected.
drift compatible by windoworwhatever (5K, poetry, fluff, drunkji, getting together, college au)
"It was just a fact of life. The sky was blue, university stipends for graduate students working in TA positions barely covered rent, bisexuals cuffed their jeans, Lan Wangji had a massive crush on Wei Wuxian, and spent his time pining and writing research papers about gay subtexts in ancient poetry."
OR
Lan Wangji is in love with Wei Wuxian, and everybody knows, except Wei Wuxian.
the bunny next door by detailsinthefabric (43K, this is mostly fluff and very light angst, and they were neighbors!!!, rabbits!!, aka wangxian's bunny children, this is... so cute i just have to rec it)
Lan Wangji did not know what he was doing. He did not know what he was going to say. He was frozen in place, puzzling over the situation. Maybe he had made the man uncomfortable, which is why he wanted to leave? But his tone had still been so friendly—maybe…
“Would…” he paused, swallowed, forced the last words to come out of his suddenly parched mouth, “would you let me pet him?”
-------------------------------------
Lan Wangji, who doesn't know how to socialize and whose icy demeanor scares everyone away, lets down all his defenses when he meets the bunny next door...oh, and also its owner, Wei Wuxian.
leading tone by silencemostofall (32K, everyone is a music student? or something like that akskk, curse fic, tw panic attacks, tw child abuse, small scene of drunkji, wwx has low self esteem, bro this was so painful to read)
The first time you touch someone you're fated to love, you leave a mark on their skin. If they will love you in return, they'll mark you where you touched them. The deeper the color, the deeper the connection.
Wei Ying has no marks at all.
public places, private thoughts by leahelisabeth (for the love of camelot) ( 8K, cherry magic au, getting together with like... immediate upgrade to fiance status, the author is wrong i crave good wangxian cherry magic aus even tho i haven't even watched cherry magic)
Wei Wuxian had heard the story of course. It had made its rounds through his high school and followed him into his college days. He didn’t think there was any possibility it was true. Virginity was a social construct, invented by creepy old men to exercise dominance over women. The idea that a simple lack of sexual activity before the age of thirty could give one magical powers was absolutely ludicrous.
Wei Wuxian believed this until the morning of his thirtieth birthday.
AKA the Wangxian Cherry Magic AU that absolutely nobody asked for.
i'd be all right (if i could see you) by @thirtysixsavefiles (16K, this was nice, i read this at 6am but it was cute, (while writing this post i must admit i don't remember anything but 6am-me said it's good))
The younger Lan brother is something of an enigma on campus; while Lan Xichen can sometimes be seen in the company of other graduate students or conducting a seminar, Lan Wangji appears to spend all his time in class or in the library. He doesn’t drink. He doesn’t smoke. He doesn’t attend social events. He doesn’t do anything for fun, as far as Wei Wuxian can tell, and it’s driving Wei Wuxian just a little bit up the wall.
Or, Wei Wuxian convinces Lan Wangji to come to a house party, and then they're assigned to the same group project. Wei Wuxian tries his best, but he is not in possession of all the facts.
axe on leg by itszero (4K, i still don't get why wwx did that but it was nice seeing him jealous for once, jealous!wwx, lwj i love you....)
Wei Wuxian pressed his face into his pillow and screamed. He paused to take a few deep breaths, partially hindered by the pillow, and listened to the sounds of Nie Huaisang slurping his iced coffee, from his seat on Wei Wuxian's desk chair.
Having caught his breath, he resumed his screaming and did not stop at the sound of his dorm room door opening.
"What's wrong with him?" He heard his brother, Jiang Cheng, ask.
The slurping stopped. "He's an idiot."
"He's always been an idiot. Why is he bothered about it now?"
"He forced Lan Wangji to go on a date," Nie Huaisang replied, shaking the ice cubes in his drink.
"Okay and…?"
"With someone else." The slurping resumed.
Wei Wuxian, in all his glorious dumbassery, convinces his boyfriend to go on a date with someone else.
these two most powerful by @stiltonbasket (4K, amnesia, wangxian with children!!!, aksksk this was adorable, dadji!!)
When Lan Wangji went to bed last night, he was alone in a tiny guest room with nothing but the howling of the wind in the mountains and his own lonely thoughts for company.
But when he opened his eyes in the morning, Wei Ying was asleep beside him.
(In which Lan Wangji loses twenty years' worth of memories after a night-hunt gone wrong, and his life as a doting father and husband continues without a hitch somehow.)
good things come to those who wait [but i ain't in a patient phase] by @cerlunas (4K, getting together, pining lwj)
Lan Wangji can't take it anymore.
“I love you”, he says, and god, it feels terrifying. “I’ve been in love with you for a long time.”
“Lan Zhan…” Wei Wuxian starts, but Lan Wangji doesn’t want to hear it.
He grabs his cup and drinks everything. He doesn’t know what face Wei Wuxian is making at him right now, and it’s okay.
“Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian repeats louder, but it’s too late. He is already falling asleep.
Or, even after 13 years, Lan Wangji is still in love with his best friend. Maybe it's time to open up.
wei ying, will you marry m- oh my god he swallowed the ring! by selene210 (2K, marriage proposals, crack, marriage proposals but.. they go wrong)
“A ring?”
And indeed it was. The ring Lan Wangji was going to propose to Wei Ying with. That the man had now choked on.
“You swallowed it.”
“It was in my soufflé! Why did you put a ring in my soufflé Lan Zhan- oh. oh”
of glittery valentine's cards by @soft-fics (3K, valentine's day, this was adorable aksk, a-yuan best boy!!)
Lan Zhan didn't want to know what his best friend had planned for Valentine's Day; his heart would simply not be able to handle it. When his son tells him that he made Wei Ying a Valentine's Day card, though, Lan Zhan decided to bring it over anyway.
of coffee and white tea by @soft-fics (9K, fluff, lwj doesn't like coffee, wwx buys him coffee, then they switch drinks, again and again and again, the staff ships it lmao, tbh jc shouldn't have done that like wtf)
For the fourth time this week a stranger orders him a cup of coffee. Lan Wangji wonders how exactly to tell this man to stop ordering him coffee he doesn't even like. Turns out, buying the other white tea and switching drinks is not the best way to go about it
canon setting
on the importance of restraint (or lack thereof) by nixthothou (4K, in which sizhui snaps, i love that boy, no like seriously he's the best boy)
Lan Sizhui does not usually find himself in the company of Sect Leader Jiang.
Suffice to say, Lan Sizhui's feelings toward him are conflicted.
lan wangji is wei wuxian's baby by lilycs (3K, i was craving fluff while reading this, lwj my beloved, drunk!lwj)
Lan Wangji gets drunk from barely a cup of alcohol, becoming a whiny baby and asking his husband for cuddles.
one of our own by glitteringmoonlight (8K, wei wuxian & lan sect, 5+1 things, in which they learn to love him, they're all part of the wwx protection squad lead by lwj, wangxian isn't the focus but !!! THIS)
Times change, but some people remain the same.
The Lans are nothing, if not aware of this.
For one of their own, they will stand against the world.
Or, 5 times the Lans defended Wei Wuxian, and the 1 time he was there to see it happen.
so why not crack your skull when the mind swells by @greenteafiend (13K, love curse, post cql canon, curses, getting together, fluff, so much fluff, lwj tries to talk about his emotions!, lwj pov)
Lan Wangji detects the curse trying to curl through his heart meridians like smoke. A love curse, then. It must have been cast remotely somehow to have found him in his bed in Cloud Recesses. No matter. Lan Wangji crushes it easily, enveloping it in his spiritual energy, and then squeezing. Curse averted, Lan Wangji closes his eyes and goes back to sleep. He thinks no more of it.
Two days later, Wei Wuxian arrives in Cloud Recesses.
Or, Wei Wuxian is cursed to feel terrible pain when he and Lan Wangji aren’t touching.
i started from the bottom / now i'm rich by x_los (57K, time travel, fix it, jealous lwj, crack treated serious, god this is so good tho, wwx/wrh & wwx/jgs but like as a joke and it doesn't really happen, but it has its purpose!!)
“First, you get the money. Then you get the power, respect - hos come last.”
Wen Qing traps Wei Wuxian in the Demon Slaughtering Cave, but Wei Wuxian isn’t interested in being the beneficiary of the Wen Remnants’ noble sacrifice. His efforts to free himself accidentally send him back to the beginning of the Sunshot Campaign. Coreless but armed with demonic cultivation, knowledge of the future and his wits, Wei Wuxian takes advantage of this opportunity to come out on top of both the war and its aftermath—before either has a chance to happen—by marrying and swiftly burying the cultivation world’s worst men.
Lan Wangji is confused, hurt, and uncomfortably aroused by Wei Wuxian’s improbably elaborate series of Sect-themed bridal negligees.
lead me on through by mrsronweasley (55K, they're in love your honor, arranged marriage but they don't know to whom, basically wwx & lwj want to practice kissing which then goes beyond kissing but not the whole way y'know, lxc the best wingman tho)
"Who do you think your betrothed is?" Wei Wuxian asks, sprawling out in front of Lan Zhan and enjoying the prim thinning of his lips at the question. He shouldn't be sprawling—they're in the library, for one, and Lan Zhan is studying, for another—but he can't help himself. Wei Wuxian is a sprawler.
"I do not believe this to be of importance," Lan Zhan responds, without turning his gaze away from his book.
"What!" Wei Wuxian sits up. "How can you say that? Of course it's important! This is the person you'll be with for the rest of your life, Lan Zhan."
#wei wuxian#lan wangji#the untamed#wangxian#mdzs#cql fic#mdzs fic#mo dao zu shi#lan zhan#wei ying#lan xichen#wangxian fics#wangxian fic#fic recs#mdzs fics#jiang yanli#lan sizhui#jiang cheng#lan qiren#lan sect#aamna tag#the possibility of this showing up in the tags is like 1% bcs there are so many links and y'know how that is
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1 - Soulmate AU - Soulamtes share dreams to learn more about each other and to teach each other their local traditions if necessary. Obi-Wan learns the hardship his mate faces in slavery, their secret language, and how to help free slaves. Anakin gets taught about the Jedi, reading, writing, and how amazing his mate is.
ahhhh ok i really don't want to share this under this prompt because i wrote the ask down wrong in my notes so the prompt i wrote follows my poor notes that just say - 'soulmate sharing/learn about them before they meet' but this is amazing prompt wise and it would clear up a ton of misconceptions in the prequels obviously if they both got dreams of the other's early lives but this is.... not that but i hope you enjoy anyway <3 <3
1. Soulmates (and daemons) (2.0 k)
Obi-Wan doesn’t have a soulmate for sixteen years.
It’s just him and the animal representation of his own soul that had traveled to the Temple with him as a babe, a Vulptex kit. She’s named herself now and grown larger and stronger through the years, her coat growing out to perfect crystalline ends. From a distance, they look like razor-sharp spikes of ice. Or so other people have said.
Obi-Wan knows that’s not true. He knows that his soul isn’t cold or untouchable or unreachable. But he’s had no luck telling anyone else that, not when Avarie snaps at everyone who tries to touch her in a manner that’s quite un-Jedi like. She’s prickly and quick to bristle. He’s emotional and angry, even before he’s ten years old.
Look, it’s not easy living around people who all know they have soulmates, either because they’ve met them or because they’ve woken up to find that their own animal has disappeared only to be replaced with their mate’s soul representation.
Most of the time, that sort of switch happens when a person’s still a youngling. A very young youngling. Sometimes babies are taken to the Temple with their soulmate’s animal tucked between tiny arms. Those, in Obi-Wan’s opinion, are the luckiest ones. They never have to wonder if they even have a soulmate at all.
They just grow up knowing that they’ll be loved one day.
Obi-Wan grows up thinking maybe it’s just going to be him and his vulptex until the day he dies. It makes him angry at the injustice of it all.
He knows his own emotions probably keep him from a Padawanship, but he can’t help but think that Avarie’s own appearance and attitude certainly don’t help. They’re at odds with one another for two years, bound together but each ignoring the other. Obi-Wan’s never heard of this before, of fighting with your own soul’s animal.
But, he thinks, most people don’t spend as long with theirs as he has with Avarie.
Perhaps she is everything unlikable about himself, made apparent to everyone else. No one, master or soulmate, would ever want him. Not when everything about his soul screams keep your distance.
Master Jinn taking him as his Padawan is a surprise then, one that soothes over some of Obi-Wan’s soul-deep aches. The night he gets his padawan braid is the first night in years that Avarie curls up against him to sleep.
When he is sixteen and a few standard months old, he wakes up alone in his bed, Avarie nowhere in sight.
Well. Not alone, actually.
A ball of fur that he had originally thought to be a wrinkle in his bedspread whines pitifully and moves to follow him when he sits up.
He stares dumbly down at the strange little muzzle and unopen eyes. Half of its face is a pure white, and the other half a solid black, as if someone has taken it and held it against a fire until its fur was stained with smoke.
“Uh,” he says to his soulmate’s animal. The creature, some sort of canid, perks up at his voice and snuffles closer to him eagerly. “Yes, hello,” Obi-Wan grins, petting its tiny head with the tip of his thumb. It tries to prolong the touch by lifting its muzzle up and whining.
It’s so small.
His soulmate must be...must be just as young.
Obi-Wan is sixteen and a few months and his soulmate has just been born, most likely. But.
But he has a soulmate.
-----
Odyna grows fast, much faster than Obi-Wan had thought possible. It feels like he blinks once on the morning he wakes to see her, and then suddenly she’s at his knees. Her paws and ears are huge still, and Obi-Wan knows she’ll grow much, much bigger.
His master in particular is very interested in trying to figure out what species his soulmate’s animal is.
“She feels incredibly strong in the Force,” Qui-Gon says on more than one occasion. “And her markings--”
Odyna growls from where she’s laying splayed out in Obi-Wan’s lap as he brushes over her furry back. She instantly preens when he taps her gently on the nose.
Some days he thinks she’s the exact opposite of Avarie in every way possible, and has to wonder how his soulmate--who would be six now--is faring with Avarie. He hopes she’s at least letting them pet her.
Odyna relishes Obi-Wan’s attention always, though she scorns anyone else’s hands or affections in a way that reminds him of his own Vulptex.
The Jedi Council was unimpressed with Avarie’s aversion to touch and seems even more skeptical at Odyna’s. “A dangerous, possessive attachment, it will be,” Yoda has told Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan more than once.
Soulmate relationships in the Order are common and practically encouraged, seen as the will of the Force. But even then, possessive attachment is heavily forbidden. The Force animals of the Jedi will often allow other Jedi to touch them and greet them. It’s unbecoming of a Jedi’s soul, to close itself off from the touch of others.
And yet a part of Obi-Wan can’t stop himself from feeling smug about how overt Odyna’s claim over him is. She’s clingy, incredibly needy, and overprotective at turns.
A Jedi’s mission to Lothal brings back a trade deal and a name for Obi-Wan’s soulmate’s Force animal. “It looks just like a Loth-wolf,” she tells him. “But the ones on Lothal I saw were huge. Taller than a Wookie.”
Obi-Wan groans at this. His master is already so much taller than him. Now Odyna too? If his soulmate grows to tower over him as well, he’s going to have some choice words for the Force upon his death.
“You wouldn’t do that to me, would you?” He asks Odyna that night as she flops down onto his bed in her customary position of splayed everywhere. “My room is only so big.”
She grins at him and licks his face.
“Force, that’s so uncivilized,” Obi-Wan grouses, getting up out of bed again to go wash his face.
----
Surprisingly, Tatooine’s heat is not the first thing Obi-Wan notices about the planet. No, what he notices first and foremost is the way that Odyna, until this point relatively satisfied to lay curled around his chair (at nine, she’s big enough to come up to his shoulders when standing), seems to lose her damned mind as soon as the door is open and the hot air permeates the ship.
He was just going to look at the damage, but his soulmate’s Force animal seems to have other plans. Odyna bounds out onto the sand and nudges Obi-Wan forward, hard enough that he loses his balance.
She nudges him again, even as he tries to bat her away. “Odyna, stop it,” he demands, scrambling to his feet.
“Are they...alright?” One of Queen Amidala’s handmaidens asks.
Qui-Gon at least tries to hide his amusement, but Obi-Wan shoots him a dirty look anyway because he can hear the smile in his master’s voice when he says, “Oh yes. This is quite normal.”
It is not normal, thanks.
Odyna howls in agreement.
When Qui-Gon tells them that they’ll have to go into the nearest town to barter or buy the parts needed to fix the ship, Obi-Wan volunteers first. Maybe if he can let Odyna stretch her legs, she’ll calm down.
Instead, the closer they get to Mos Espa proper, the more antsy she becomes until, quite suddenly, she bolts through the streets. Obi-Wan has little choice but to take off after her. It’s almost impossible, of course, to lose a Loth-wolf when they’re that huge, but there’s a sort of strange tight pressure in his chest at having her out of his sight.
He leaves his master and the handmaiden behind without a second thought, but at least he doesn’t have to run far.
Outside a shop that looks as rundown as the other ones, Odyna has stopped and sat down, her tail wagging furiously behind her.
Obi-Wan has a fair few things in mind to yell at her, but all of that gets knocked out of his head when he sees the crystalline figure of a very familiar vulptex standing in the shadow of the loth-wolf.
His breath catches in his throat and he almost loses his balance again when Avarie turns to look at him with those intelligent black eyes, head cocked.
If she’s--if she’s here, then that means--that means--
He stumbles forward until he can kneel in front of his Force animal, hand outstretched.
Suddenly there’s commotion inside the shop and a little boy tears outside holding some sort of rusted pipe over his shoulder threateningly. “Don’t touch her!” the boy yells, brandishing the pipe. “She doesn’t like it, get gone or I’ll make you get gone!”
Obi-Wan blinks. His very first interaction with his soulmate after waiting twenty-five years, and the boy is threatening him.
“You’re mine,” he says dumbly, brain trying to process these impossible events.
It is, of course, the wrong thing to say. If anything, the boy puffs himself up even more. “I’m no one’s!” He yells indignantly. “I’m a person. My name is Anakin Skywalker!”
Obi-Wan holds up his hands in apology. “Ah, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean--I meant that she’s mine. Avarie. She’s my soul.”
Anakin lowers his pipe with narrowed eyes. “How’d you know her name?” he asks suspiciously.
Obi-Wan fights the urge to roll his eyes. He’d never considered that he’d have to win over the trust of his soulmate. “She’s my soul,” he says again slowly, before gesturing to the black and white loth-wolf behind them, who has laid down in the dust, tongue hanging out in response to the heat. “As she is yours.”
“You’re my...soulmate?” Anakin drops the pipe as he looks over Obi-Wan in frank disbelief. “But you’re so….”
Obi-Wan raises a wry eyebrow and grins. He braces himself to hear old, or maybe even male.
But instead his soulmate shocks him again by saying, “....pretty! Are you sure you’re not an angel instead?”
Which, of course, corresponds to his master’s arrival. The maiden with him at least has the decency to cover her smile with her hand. Meanwhile, his master’s smirk is probably going to be burned into his memory forever.
“Yes, Anakin,” Obi-Wan responds. “I promise, I’m your soulmate.”
“Mine,” Anakin says in a wondrous tone. And then, a grin steals across his face and he grabs Obi-Wan's hand. “My soulmate.”
Obi-Wan hopes this isn’t the beginning of that dangerous possessiveness Yoda has spent years lecturing him about.
-----
“I’m going with him,” Anakin argues, stomping his foot in the Council chambers. Obi-Wan hides his face in his hand. “He’s my master.”
“Anakin, we’ve been over this. You’re much too young for this mission,” Obi-Wan explains gently, as if they don’t have a dozen interested eyes on them.
“I’m twelve!” Anakin will not be deterred. “That’s plenty old!”
“It’s too dangerous,” he tries instead.
“Then you shouldn’t go!”
Obi-Wan wonders if he should try arguing that he’s a twenty-eight year old Jedi Knight, who may go where he pleases. He doesn’t think that’ll go over well with his padawan.
Anakin, he says through their training bond. Do not do this in front of the Council.
Anakin turns to stare mulishly up at him. I want you to be safe.
I will have Odyna with me, Obi-Wan points out, tilting his head in reference to the loth-wolf spread out on the Council Chamber’s floor. And you will have Avarie with you. You will know I am safe. And I will know she is making you sleep and eat and bathe.
Anakin seems to consider this and then crosses his arms, but eventually nods. I don’t like it when she bites me until I go to bed, he grumbles, kicking his feet and glaring over at Avarie, who is dozing between Odyna’s paws.
Obi-Wan fights the urge to chuckle out loud. In truth, he’s a bit jealous that Avarie has figured out a way to get obedience from their soulmate. Half the time, Obi-Wan is still floundering to get simple acknowledgement of a command.
-----
Many years later, of course, when Anakin is a knight and Obi-Wan a master, he figures out the thing that never fails to get Anakin soft and pliant and relaxed.
It’s kisses.
More specifically, kisses from his soulmate while they’re lying in bed together, sheets tangled around their feet and both of their Force animals in the other room, keeping watch at the door.
#asks#prompt fill#soulmates#obikin#this entire fic took hold because i couldn't stop thinking of a physical representation of anakin's soul just#draped behind obi-wan's chair during council meetings#so hell yeah after he gets a seat on the council#odyna sits behind him and growls loudly when she feels his displeasure#its very intimidating actually mission successes are going through the roof#meanwhile anakin has avarie in his lap shes either dozing off#or she's grooming her paws#which always makes anakin laugh#because 'look master she's as picky about her appearance as you are'#soulmate au
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This isn't a request or anything but I had a soulmate AU idea that I think you'd like.... And reminded me of Oikawa. Imagine you find ur soulmate from their name written on your skin on ur 16/18 bday, but.... You're blind. And dating Oikawa. And he /swears/ your name is on his skin... But when your birthday rolls around, he insists you don't show anyone else.... And starts buying you clothes to cover the mark.... And you hear him whispering about his mark to Iwa.... And you begin to worry. 👀
I know it wasn’t specifically meant as a request, but I took the idea and ran with it - I hope it’s okay!! 💕
Oikawa Tooru x Female Reader
TW gaslighting, manipulation, dub con nsfw, blind reader
Part II
Always
“You promise me it’s there?”
Are you sure it’s me?
Rich, warm laughter fills the air around you, and despite the tension gnawing away in your stomach, the corners of your lips twitch into a soft smile.
“You don’t believe me!”
He’s happy. Even gasping in mock indignation Tooru can’t quite manage to keep it from his voice.
He has every reason to be; you’re both home for the first time in a year and a half, settled in the well worn couch at his parents house, your friends sprawled out either side of you. He’s twenty one today and as of five minutes ago the proud owner of his very own soulmate mark.
Or so he tells you.
“Well it’s not like I can see it,” you tease, nudging yourself closer so that you can rest your head against his shoulder and sighing loudly. “It could be Issei’s name for all I know, and you’re all just too nice to break the news to me.”
The choked snort from your left side makes you giggle, but not as much as the sound of your boyfriend fake gagging.
“Please, he fucking wishes!”
“Iwa tell her!” Oikawa demands, and you can just imagine the way that Iwaizumi’s eyes must roll before he ultimately gives in.
He always does.
“It’s yours,” he sighs. “Unfortunately you’re stuck with him, Y/N. My condolences.”
Yours.
It’s hard, even as raucous laughter fills the air around you and Oikawa turns to shout at his best friend, to deny the warm fluttering in your chest. The arm around you eases you closer, a thumb absentmindedly stroking at your side and you allow yourself to relax against him.
It’s your name on his skin. You’re his soulmate.
For the first time in weeks, it feels like you can breathe easy. You wonder if Oikawa knew, if he noticed the way you held onto him just that little bit tighter - like you were scared to let go.
You’ve loved Oikawa for as long as you can remember, but you only get one soulmate. Was it really so outlandish to wonder whether his first love would be his last? Whether you could ever be good enough to be his?
The little blind girl, always following at his heels.
For all your faults, you’ve never been naive. You know how amazing he is - Tooru has always been destined for great things and you were just his highschool sweetheart.
A hindrance, one of his very dedicated fans had once taken the time to inform you, clinging desperately to whatever scraps of pity he felt charitable enough to throw your way.
Neither one of you had realised that Oikawa had heard every damn word.
—
“Can you just…”
Oikawa pauses, the hand he has wrapped around yours squeezes lightly. “Hmm?”
Breathe deep. Just say it.
Tell him.
You’re almost at the gate, your flight’s leaving in twenty minutes (and you would have been there sooner if he hadn’t insisted on dragging you through every overpriced store in the damn airport) and in a few hours, you’ll be home again.
But it isn’t the thought of being back in Japan that worries you. Your bottom lip catches between your teeth, your heart thumping unsteadily in your chest. His birthday is in two days, and that’s when he’ll find out who his soulmate is supposed to be. And you trust him, you love him. Even if the name on his forearm isn't yours, it’s not like he’s just going to suddenly toss you aside like yesterday’s trash, but… things’ll change, you know they will. And you couldn’t even blame him for that, because how much effort can you really be expected to put into a relationship if you know they’re not the one you’re supposed to end up with?
The doubts you have, the ones that fester and play on your every insecurity, keeping you up at night long after Tooru has drifted off - you’ve tried to shut them out and ignore them as best you can, but you just can’t get on that plane without having some kind of reassurance.
What if it’s not you?
“Just promise me that if…” your breath catches in your throat, and you try to force a smile on your face even though you know that it wobbles. “If it’s not- if I’m not-”
Soft lips press against yours, cutting you off. It’s only for a heartbeat, enough to get you to stop the panicked tumble of words you couldn’t quite get out, but for you it feels like it lasts a lifetime. You could lose yourself in Oikawa’s kisses, you think. Lose yourself and be happy for it.
A warm palm cups your face. “I love you,” he says, and it isn’t the murmured declaration first thing in the morning, his voice still thick with sleep as he rolls over to kiss you good morning, and it isn’t the cheesy, throwaway line he gives whenever you save him the last bite of the milk bread that he specifically bought for you (because god knows his coach would kill him if he found out he ate the entire thing himself).
It’s a promise.
“You are my soulmate,” his thumb strokes along your cheekbone, and you can’t help but lean into the touch. “You’re the only one I’m ever going to want.”
Standing on the outskirts of your gate, moments away from boarding the plane that’ll take you both home, you’re not entirely sure if he’s trying to tell you that he’s certain that the name on his arm is going to be yours, or that he doesn’t care if it isn’t.
Either way, it’s enough.
“You’re mine,” he breathes, and captures your lips in another kiss - this one brimming with ardent devotion, a love too deep for either one of you to speak.
—
Hours later, Iwa, Makki and Mattsun are all asleep downstairs and it’s just Tooru and you curled up in his bed. You suppose you shouldn’t be surprised that being back in his childhood bedroom did little in the way of curbing his appetite, but between giggles and breathy moans, Oikawa’s hand clamped over your mouth and his lips at your ear-
‘Shhh, you have to keep it down, cutie. Unless you want the whole house to hear all the pretty sounds you make when you’re about to cum for me?’
- he manages to wring four orgasms out of you before the two of you collapse back against the mattress, all sweaty and panting.
And you think he’s fallen asleep now, an arm slung around your waist, his face buried against the nape of your neck despite the warmth of the balmy summer night. With his chest flush against your back, you can feel the steady rhythm of his heart, lulling you gently to sleep with every beat.
Soulmate.
This, here, in Oikawa’s arms, this is where you belong, where you’ve always belonged. And yet even with happiness and relief and an overwhelming love singing through your veins - keeping you wide awake - you can’t deny that it feels… strange almost, knowing that out of seven and a half billion people, you’re the one he’s marked for.
He’d sounded so sure back at the airport, like there wasn’t even the possibility of doubt in his mind that you were the one for him. And maybe he was just saying it to calm you down and get your ass on the plane, but if the situations were reversed and it was your birthday first… could you really say with one hundred percent certainty that you knew it would be his name that’d show up on your arm?
You love him more than you’ve ever loved anybody else (more than you ever probably will love anybody else), it’s just that you’ve always known that the two of you were on wildly different paths. Tooru’s the starting setter for a pro volleyball team, and there’s already whispers of that national squad, Olympic selection.
He’s talented and driven and sometimes you wonder whether you ever would have left Miyagi let alone Japan at all if it hadn’t been for him dragging you along with him.
You’ve always been so content in your own little bubble. You cling to what’s comfortable, what you know - all your life, you’ve been told that you’re not defined by your disability, but you’ve never tried to push yourself beyond it.
With Tooru, you’ve never had to.
That girl, years ago - she wasn’t wrong. You do cling to him, like you’d clung to your friends and your family. And maybe that’s not the worst thing in the world, but when you compare what Oikawa has to offer his soulmate compared to what you bring to the table, and-
“I can hear you thinking from here,” your apparently not-so-asleep-after-all boyfriend murmurs in your ear. “Tell me what’s bothering my pretty girl.”
You sigh, rolling over to face him. It’s pointless to lie to Tooru - he can read you better than anyone else - but admitting the whole truth, even here under this little refuge of soft intimacy between the two of you, feels harder than it should be.
“You’re not… disappointed, are you?”
The harrumph that escapes his lips sounds almost offended, but the brush of his lips against the tip of your nose is sweet. “How long have I known you?” he asks.
Your forehead wrinkles at the question. “Fifteen or so years, I guess?”
You’d only been six or so when your family had moved in the house next door to his, across the street from Iwaizumi’s, and you can still vividly remember the first time you met him - crying in your front yard with a scraped up knee - always too eager for your own good.
“Hmm,” he acknowledges, “and how long have we been dating?”
“Seven-ish years?”
He chuckles, kissing you again, this time on your cheek. “And how long do you think I’ve been in love with you?”
Your whole face warms, and you fight the urge to bury it in his bare chest, especially when he reaches out to tuck a stray lock of hair that had fallen out of place back behind your ear. “Tooru-”
He sighs again, the sound tinged with just a hint of fond exasperation. “Give me your hand.”
You oblige, and you feel his long fingers curl around yours, tucking all of your fingers but your index away and drawing your hand closer towards him. It’s only when your pointer brushes against skin that you realise what he’s trying to do. Still, you don’t offer a word as Tooru slowly traces your finger along the dark letters on his skin - his soulmate mark.
Your name.
“I’ve been in love with you since we were kids, Y/N. You’re mine, you’ve always been mine, just as I’m yours,” he vows, and you almost shiver with the intensity that burns in every word. “Any other name would have been nothing more than a filthy lie.”
Any further protests are swallowed up by another kiss, and your boyfriend takes it upon himself to show you exactly how much he adores you, over and over again, until sheer, utter exhaustion drags you to sleep in his arms.
—
Your own twenty-first birthday is a vastly different kind of affair. For one, the two of you decide to stay in Argentina - Oikawa’s mid season and can’t afford the time off training to traipse back home again.
Which means that it is just the two of you alone in your villa when you feel an odd burning sensation start to creep through your left arm. It doesn’t hurt exactly, more like a warm tingling sensation that flows along your skin as one by one the letters of your soulmate’s name come to light.
The sharp little gasp that slips from your lips must have alerted Tooru - hovering as he had been for the better part of the day - because his hands are on your arm within a moment, flipping it over and eagerly dragging it closer for him to inspect. His own breath hitches in his throat, his fingers tightening on your soft skin and a tentative smile works its way across your face.
People have told you before that your boyfriend is handsome - stupidly beautiful, you’d once overheard one of your old high school classmates bemoan. His voice certainly is, soft and pretty and lilting, warm like the first rays of the sun on a cool winter’s morning, though not without its sharpness. Oikawa always has had a wicked tongue. In your head, you picture a face to match, delicate, angular features, warm eyes and a grin that’s just a little impish. Trouble, but the irresistible kind.
You wish you could see it now, watch your soulmate’s eyes widen with delight, or maybe soften with quiet awe. You want to see him happy, deliriously so, you want to look into those lovely eyes of his and see all the love that’s coursing through your veins right now reflected right back at you.
He still hasn’t spoken a word.
The slow drag of a breath, shaky and too sharp, had your bright smile freezing on your face. His grip hasn’t relented, fingers calloused from years of playing volleyball digging into your arm almost painfully. The air between you two is still, he hasn’t moved, not so much as a twitch.
Unease creeps its way into your stomach.
Why hasn’t he said anything?
He’s never exactly been the strong, silent type, and you love him for that. Iwa often complains that his best friend likes the sound of his own voice too damn much (half heartedly at best), and maybe that’s true, but he never realised that it doesn’t bother you in the slightest.
It’s different for you, not being able to see.
You don’t exactly blame them for not understanding - how could they, really? Without your sight to help you, your other senses have to work in overdrive just to make sense of things. Tooru’s voice builds the world around you, imbues it with a spark, guides you like a hand stretching out through the darkness. It’s a gap in the void, a reassurance you cling to - because without it there’s nothing. You’re alone with only your thoughts to keep you company.
So when he goes quiet like this, it’s never a good sign.
A lump lodges its way in your throat. Without your sight, his silence is almost impossible to read, but you can sense the sudden heaviness in the air, the tension hanging thick between the two of you.
You expected dramatics. Tears, maybe, or a burst of affectionate cuddles and kisses. Gushing over your mark just as he had when his own had come through. Hell, you thought he’d grab his phone and take a thousand and one pictures just to prove to the world that you were his as much as he was yours - because you loved each other. Because you were soulmates.
Is there something wrong with your mark?
“Tooru?” you murmur, the edges of your smile starting to slip as your panic rises. “I-is everything-”
“You’re mine.”
The clipped words are little more than a whisper, hoarse and choked. It takes you by surprise, making your heart skip a beat, the knot in your stomach tighten, yet just as that paralysing apprehension starts to take root, he clears his throat, and a laugh bubbles to the surface.
Slowly, like ice thawing, his fingers relax on your forearm, gliding up over your shoulder to curl around your neck. “You love me, right?”
Your eyebrows knit together, but you nod anyway. “Always.”
There’s another shaky breath, and suddenly his arms are wrapping around you, drawing you into a tight embrace. You don’t fight it, still bewildered by the sudden whiplash of his tone.
His own heart is racing, you can feel it as he holds you against him. The question burns deep inside of your chest, a thought you don’t want to give voice to, but you can’t seem to stop yourself - it slips out before you even realise you’ve opened your mouth.
“It is your name, Tooru, isn’t it? You’re my soulmate?”
There’s a beat of silence, and Oikawa hums, resting his chin against the top of your head. “Of course it is, cutie,” he chuckles. “Who else’s name would it be?”
He takes you out for dinner to celebrate. You’d originally picked one of his favourite dresses to wear, a strapless white number with a pretty, flowing skirt that fell to your mid thigh, but Oikawa stops you before you can leave, passing you over an old denim jacket of yours.
“It’s cool out tonight,” he says as he eases it over your shoulders before you can protest.
You don’t question it.
—
He fucks you that night, hard, fast and unrelenting, holding onto you so tight that you swear you’ll have bruises come morning.
—
Oikawa likes doing little things for you.
He likes it when you hold onto his arm and let him guide you around when you go out together (you do have a cane - it sits in the back of your closet for ‘emergency uses’ only). He likes to buy you pretty things, jewellery, clothes, little trinkets that remind him of you - spoiling you with every opportunity he can, doubly so now that he has a salary that affords him that luxury.
It’s not uncommon for him to pick out your outfits. For one, you can’t see so you kind of have to rely on somebody else’s help so you don’t end up a mismatched disaster, and Tooru seems to enjoy doing it. He likes seeing you wear the things he buys for you - lacy, soft and demure.
He also likes it when people know that you’re his.
So it doesn’t strike you as odd when Tooru insists on you wearing his club hoodie over your dress the next time you go to one of his games. You might not be able to see him fly across the court, but you can hear the cheers, the roar of the crowd as they stamp their feet and chant like a battle cry when San Juan scores. You can taste the excitement in the air, and whenever your soulmate steps up to the plate to serve, you feel the rabid excitement of the crowd thrumming in your veins.
It’s warm in the stadium with so many people crammed close together, you push the sleeves up without even thinking. It’s not an issue - it shouldn’t be - but when your boyfriend slips his arms around you, fresh from the locker room post match, it’s the first thing he notices. He’s tugging them back down before you can so much as offer a hello, tersely muttering something about you getting a cold when you frown.
There’s a tiny flicker of unease at the odd behaviour, but he’s kissing you before you can linger on it for too much longer.
And if that’s all it was, maybe it would be easier for you to shove that niggling worry aside.
But once you start noticing things - little, inconsequential things you would have just shrugged off before - you can’t seem to stop, and that tiny seed of doubt starts to take root, to sprout and grow.
Your friends stop calling by. Back home your social circle was pretty much limited to Tooru, Iwa and their friends - not that you minded at all, you love them all dearly, it’s just that you didn’t really have any friends of your own outside of that little group. When you moved across to Argentina and Oikawa started training for longer hours, dedicating himself wholeheartedly to his new team, you got lonely, sitting in your new home just waiting around for him to come back to you.
And it took a while, but eventually you started to venture outside of your comfort zone and lo and behold - even with your stumbling Spanish, you managed to make a few friends! Though you can tell that your beloved boyfriend wasn’t exactly thrilled by the burgeoning new friendships you gushed to him about, he’s never begrudged you them. If it made you happy, then he was happy.
Lately though, they’ve been kind of distant. And by distant, you mean… well, nonexistent. They don’t come visit you anymore, when you call their numbers, it just rings out.
You can’t even leave voicemails - there’s just an automated voice telling you their message banks are full. Regardless, not one of them has made the effort to call you back, and it’s not like you can text them to ask why they’re avoiding you. Life gets in the way, you know that, and sometimes people just drift apart but it’s like all of a sudden they’ve just dropped off the face of the planet.
But when you mention venturing out into town one day without them while Tooru’s at practice, he seems strangely resistant to the idea.
“I just don’t like the idea of you wandering around by yourself. It’s not safe out there for you, cutie,” he tells you.
The words are saccharine, as sweet as the kisses he presses against your lips when he coaxes your chin upwards. You love him, you do. And you understand that he worries - even away from the hustle and bustle of the big cities, San Juan isn’t exactly a crime free neighbourhood, but for the first time the strong, muscular arms that wrap around your waist don’t bring comfort.
It’s like they’re a cage, locked around you and dragging you slowly down to the depths, and it’s driving you mad because you can’t figure out why it feels like that.
Biting back your annoyance, you sigh, forcing yourself to relax against him. You love him - this is normal, couples disagree all the time. “I’m not an invalid, babe. I’ve done it before - I can’t just sit around the villa all day moping all alone or I’ll go crazy.”
He hums noncommittally, his fingers trailing idly across your skin as he draws you closer still, and the conversation is dropped.
Two days later, you find your cane snapped in two in the back of the closet. Oikawa has some weights stuffed in an old gym bag for when he can’t be bothered leaving home to work out - the bag must have fallen on your cane and cracked it when he put it back after his session yesterday afternoon.
An accident, it has to be. He’d never deliberately do something so petty, right?
And there are moments where you can forget the doubts that gnaw away at your insides. Tooru has always been a caring, attentive lover - the perfect boyfriend. He seems more determined that ever to shower you in love, whether that’s by waking you up with his tongue eagerly lapping at your cunt, bringing you home bouquets of fragrant flowers and cooking the two of you dinner, or just with the tiny gestures of affection - tucking your hair back away from your face, linking his hands with yours, the little kisses and compliments he lavishes you with on a daily basis.
When it’s just the two of you, lounging around on the couch, his head resting on your lap and your fingers carding through his hair, it’s easy to pretend that everything’s fine. The two of you love each other. You’ve been his rock, his biggest supporter right from the early days, and Tooru’s the one who drew you out of your shell, who makes you feel like you’re actually worth something.
That you’re beautiful, and loved.
It’s not until you come home one afternoon from an impromptu trip to the local bakery just down the road that all the little pieces fall into place, and you realise why.
The craving for something sweet was what drew you out. Truthfully, you hadn’t really thought twice about it. It was a short trip, one you’d made a thousand times before, and it wasn’t like the locals didn’t know you, wouldn’t watch out for you if they saw you about to unknowingly hurt yourself or trip over something.
The alfajores in your hand were supposed to be a surprise, Tooru had been wound up from practice lately, more stressed than he usually was this late in the season, and you knew you weren’t the only one with a wicked sweet tooth. You’d just wanted to cheer him up.
You hadn’t expected to come home to find Tooru pacing in your bedroom, muttering to himself, and you certainly hadn’t expected him to whirl around at the sound of your approach, snatching at your wrist and all but hauling you inside.
You certainly aren’t prepared for the snarling, bitter words he hurls at you.
And yet even as tears fill your eyes, a choked sob bursting free as he berates you for leaving the villa without telling him, Tooru clutches at you so tightly it feels like your arm’s going to snap.
“You can’t leave me! You can’t - you’re mine!”
He doesn’t stop, barely pauses for breath, but those eight words hit you like a freight train, and everything else fades out into white noise. You can’t for the life of you explain how or why, but in that moment, you know with absolute certainty that the name on your arm can’t be his.
Tooru lied to you.
He’s not your soulmate.
It’s all you can do to stand there numbly while your boyfriend falls to pieces in front of you. The angry yells and screams turn into wretched sobs, and suddenly it’s Tooru collapsing in your arms, clinging to your neck like it’s a lifeline as he sniffles against your chest, and when desperate apologies turn into desperate kisses and he starts to lead you backwards towards the bed, you don’t fight him.
He treats you like you’re made of glass, worshipping every inch of your skin, fervent declarations of love spilling out between kisses like prayers of the devout at an altar. He fucks you slowly, lovingly, moaning your name so sweetly as he searches for absolution within the plush walls of your sex.
And with his fingers coaxing at your clit, his lips dancing against yours you fall off that precipice with him.
You have no idea long the two of you lie there in silence, limbs entangled with one other, but eventually you register the warmth of his hand on your cheek, caressing it with a gentle kind of tenderness that makes something deep inside of you ache.
“You still love me, don’t you?” Tooru’s voice is quiet. Hesitant. It reminds you of the little boy you knew, the one who confided all his fears of never being good enough to you, desperately seeking the validation you always gave so freely.
Your eyes flutter shut, another stray tear spilling down your cheek, and your heart breaks anew.
“Always.”
#yandere haikyuu#yandere oikawa tooru#yandere oikawa x reader#yandere oikawa tooru x reader#yandere oikawa#tw gaslighting#tw manipulation#tw dub con
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La Squadra reacting to a usually silent, patient teammate snapping and going off
Genre: Platonic, just the bois being bros, definitely a self-projection, comfort
Warning: Cursing, mentions of breakup and manipulation
Your phone rang for the umpteenth time, the stubborn caller failing to realise how many times you've wordlessly made it clear you want nothing to do with him. All you ask of him was to finally leave you alone and yet he continues to persistently pest you. Your will power proved itself mighty to be tolerating his nineteenth call in five minutes.
It was your ex being a stubborn son of a bitch who has a lot of time in his hands, constantly asking you to pick up the phone and let him 'smooth out and explain' his recent relationship with his 'friends' behind your back. You were nowhere near stupid, nor gullible after joining the mob. despite your outward appearance as an innocent, average civilian you've hardened over time with the help of your career and turning your feelings off was no longer a challenge. Over time it simply became a light switch.
After his recent actions came to light, you bear to hesitation to break it off. For a moment you felt guilty when he gave his explanation to why he started seeing other people without you knowing; of course you knew what you were getting into when you signed your soul away to the devil to work in this line of career, you were constantly faced with death and lacked the time to spend time with him. He had no knowledge about what you do for a living, but you knew how to make it clear you were never going to be a simple one-call-away. But over time you've finally gained some self-worth and self-preservation to see through his guilt tripping, before you dropped his ass.
Now you were here, rejecting his calls before pocketing it back in your pants before resuming the movie night. Even putting the phone on silent it continued to bother everyone around you as you continued to nonchalantly press the reject call button.
How can you be this patient, the rest of the team questions but the answer lay before them. Risotto hired the timid assassin with potential for their unwavering patience and swift wits to wiggle them selves out of severe situations, something the time could use to be honest especially when you have a ticking time bomb with no timer and goes off at random. Perhaps the question would be simply answered with a short and simple one: "It's just Y/N being Y/N."
With the pestering phone calls bothering you for the past few days, your team can't help to be annoyed on your behalf and would like to chuck your phone into the deepest trench of the ocean and buy you a new one.
Much to everyone's chagrin, they watch you pick your phone up, however, what you did next was new and unexpected. Instead of rejecting the call, you finally picked up. Most of the time you'd politely greet, but today was certainly different. As soon as you picked up the phone, you wasted no breathe to speak and cut to the chase. All eyes turned to you, some were concerned, curious, shocked, or proud.
"Can you quit blowing up my phone, dude? Twenty FUCKING calls every second is getting tiresome. If you're calling me to 'explain' to me how you're not meeting your hookups then fuck off and get lost! what? Do you miss your personal ego booster? Well then fuck you, go try and choke on your own dick! Do you fucking think I'll believe your half-assed bullshit lies and pathetic fucking cries and bitching will win me over? You must be so fucking DELUSIONAL to be thinking you're worth the effort! What? Are you sad that I’m not a passable doll you can manipulate and mold to your liking? Is that it, you crazy son of a bitch? Can't you fucking get a clue that I'm over it? Huh? I couldn't care less about the new lies you've come up with to try and win me over, I'm done! Finished! Tapos! Ho finito! He terminado! Я задолбался! WHAT OTHER LANGUAGES DO I NEED TO SPEAK TO GET IT THROUGH THAT THICK FUCKING NOGGIN OF YOUR’S? CALL ME AGAIN AND I SWEAR TO ALL THINGS CONSIDERED MIGHTY THAT YOU WON’T HAVE ANY TEETH LEFT, DO YOU FUCKING UNDERSTAND YOU FUCKING CHEATER? DO YOU FUCKING UNDERSTAND? Good."
As soon as you finished the call, you calmly set it down with a sigh of relief. Peace at last. You adjusted yourself comfortably on your seat, wanting to watch the movie on display, when you felt you've made yourself quite the spectacle.
“What?”
Formaggio
- “Woooh, they went off!” His initial response was to high-five you for some reason but you accepted, nevertheless.
- Very shocked and yet enthusiastic at how you handles yourself at the face of a situation like this. Not to mention, the build up! From you trying to tolerate the caller for the past few minutes, before picking up the call and gave them an ass whipping to remember for the rest of his life!
- He would feel sorry for the person of the other side of the line if it weren’t for the fact he cheated on you, so good for him to be told off.
Illuso
- “Heh, about time you told him off.”
- Silently supportive at how you handled yourself at the face of a situation like this and admires you for it. It was very entertaining while it lasted, now he just wants to go back to watching the movie.
- Along that, he was shock that this hidden side of yours came put of nowhere and came out strong, which he thinks is pretty fucking rad. He now thinks back at the times where he gave you backhanded comments and how you managed to keep yourself cool under it... He now reminds himself not to get on your bad side, ever.
Proscuitto
- “.... Thank fuck you’re done, I was starting to think about throwing your phone out.”
- Extremely flabbergasted, as he has never heard you speak fluent in profanities, nor raise your voice at the duration of your stay in La Squadra. and addition to that, the fact you leaned on your seat and calmed yourself immediately as if nothing happened.
- Nevertheless, he feels proud at you for standing up to yourself and standing your ground. You have always been the timid one entering the world of crime and he overlooked your development within this new and risky life style. Looks like his mentoring worked wonders on you and he feels proud of himself.
Pesci
- “......”
- He was too shaken up to speak, he has never heard you be this angry and frustrated before as you’ve always kept calm in every situation and he admires you for that.
- He is shaken up, sure but it doesn’t really change how he views you. You were still the patient person he has ever met-- he just happen to witness you lose your cool once but he’s sure that this won’t define you.
Melone
- “Good for you for getting rid of that guy.”
- He’s just relieved that you’re finally done with the guy who has been giving Melone weird vibes the moment you told him about your then boyfriend. A few alarm bells rang in his head as you detailed how he acts around you and despite being happy for you back then, Melone was extremely vocal about his concerns. Looking back at it, he feels that his ‘paranoia’ wasn’t far off.
- He isn’t really shock, he’s just happy that you’re standing your ground and establishing yourself as a person who don’t need no one to use as a co-dependent crutch. After being around Ghiaccio, he really isn’t that phased anymore.
Ghiaccio
- “Fucking finally!”
- Similar to Melone, he’s just relieved your done with the phone calls and clingy boyfriend who is a walking-talking red flag. He hated how you didn’t have time back then to hang out with your other teammates just to spend time with your boyfriend to make up lost times, that often lasts until midnight and Ghiaccio can still hear you talking to your phone.
- Ghiaccio cares about you despite his distant veneer, and wants the best for the people he cares about. So he was happy that you finally broke your relationship of with a guy who doesn’t deserve you. Also, he’s starting to think that your choice of vocabulary all came from him and is unsure whether he should feel proud or not.
Risotto
- “Oh... Okay, good for you.”
- He blurted the first thing in mind, because he was just so shock at how you responded. He hired you for being so patient and calm at all times and now looking back, he doesn’t really see himself thinking that one day you’ll be going off without stopping to breathe and stutter.
- Don’t get him wrong, he actually thinks it’s awesome that you stood up for yourself like that, but just give him time to reel back to reality. He just never thought you’d explode that hard.
Gelato and Sorbet
- “See Sorbet? I told you they’d snap eventually!”
- The couple was immensely entertained at your empowering speech being quite the ego breaker and worse-fate-than-death threat. They adore it whenever they see a usually timid newcomer becoming unafraid to stand their ground and tell their oppressors off, it honestly feels like a proud parent thing for them to see their baby kid all grown up and kicking people in the guts with their words.
- If you would want a rebound, they won’t hesitate to set someone up with you who is far better than your dog-faced ex because they know that people are barely worthy for you
#la squadra x reader#platonic#x reader#comfort#formaggio x reader#illuso x reader#prosciutto x reader#pesci x reader#melone x reader#ghiacchio x#risotto x reader#gelato and sorbet x reader#JoJo's Bizarre Adventure#jjba golden wind#jjba part 5#la sqaudra#all the foreign language are basically just 'im done'
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Rex and Anakin Raise a Family: Part One
The beginning of the end is this: Ahsoka removes Rex’s chip and finds her masters, starts to run, and loses her life before they make it to safety.
(She is the chink in all their armors.)
The beginning of the end is this: Anakin does not Fall, is there as his children are born, and sobs himself to pieces as his wife still dies for reasons none can find.
(Darkness would not have saved her, and the Light was already shattered.)
The beginning of the end is this: Obi-Wan mends his relationship with Anakin just in time to stay behind and guard the escape of what is left of his family.
(Obi-Wan would never have forgiven himself if he hadn’t, and Anakin will never forgive his Master’s memory for sacrificing himself.)
The beginning of the end is this: Their path to safety passes through Malachor.
------------------------
The house is small and dusty, but empty and uninfested.
Anakin is used to worse. Rex is used to worse. The twins can barely see six inches beyond their faces, and do not know any better.
“Do you think they take Republic credits?” Rex asks. They still don’t know what planet they’re even on.
Anakin shrugs. There’s no life to him, even with his daughter in his arms, and his son at his side.
“I’ll pawn a blaster if I have to,” Rex decides. He wraps the bottom half of his face in a scarf, and prays that the blond hair and civilian clothing are enough that nobody will look too close for the eyes of a clone.
Anakin shrugs again. They need food for the newborns, who can’t survive on packed rations and hunted game. There’s only so much formula on the ship they took, and it won’t last the week.
(He is not the only person to lose everything in the last three days, but Rex is more practiced at compartmentalizing.)
(There’s more to it, from the Force letting Anakin feel the deaths of those he loves to the extremely personal betrayal that was Chancellor Palpatine’s reveal as a Sith, but when it comes down to the basics, he knows this: Anakin is broken now, and Rex can hold his own widening fissures together a little longer.)
“I’ll be back soon,” Rex promises, and lets the slow blink and half a nod be his general’s response.
The village isn’t very large. It’s not wealthy, but it seems largely untouched by the war. Nobody looks at him for more than a moment, and he thanks the tweaking of his genetic line for the hair that lets him hide just a little more. There aren’t any rumors catching his ear; he only parses about half of what’s being said. They’re in Mando space, and the words flying about are largely Basic and Mando’a, in a dialect he only mostly understands, and sprinkled with what he thinks is Huttese and Bocce. Still, nobody’s passing hushed gossip about the Jedi turning traitor, or the Republic becoming an Empire. Nobody mentions the Separatists or the war.
Rex feels a mix of rising anxiety and loosening fear. People won’t be looking for them yet, not here, but something is wrong for there to be so little hint of the wider conflict. He’s no scout, but he didn’t make Captain--or Commander, for that it lasted only the length of that final, ill-fated battle on Mandalore--by being as unobservant as a fresh cadet.
He finds himself standing in a store specializing in childcare supplies, staring at a shelf of some twenty different kinds of formula.
“You need some help, stranger?”
He glances at the woman out of the corner of his eye, notes down the degree of danger--minimal, even if he’s not in his armor--and decides it’s not too much information. “My friend, his wife died in childbirth, just a day ago. The children need to eat, but...”
Her face turns into a grimace of sympathy. “You don’t know what’s best. Did the midwife not suggest anything?”
A midwife. They really are in the middle of nowhere. “The birth was... they only had a med droid. No professionals.”
He doesn’t elaborate, hopes she’ll just drop it, and she does. She turns to the shelves, eyes them for a long moment, and then picks out three different boxes.
“Here, try these and see which one the baby likes best. They’re what I’d suggest for newborns. Should be easy to make with some hot water. I’m guessing you have bottles already--”
“No,” Rex says, and then scrambles to explain in a way that doesn’t make it clear just how unprepared they all are. “Not enough. It was twins, and nobody expected it.”
“Did she not--”
“Please don’t,” Rex says, desperate already. “It’s been a long few days, and it’s not my story to tell.”
She nods, a tad too slow, but he hopes it’s just concern.
Bottles and pacifiers, diapers and towels, just enough to tide them by with the excuse of buying for the unexpected extra child instead of the truth of having gone on the run the second the twins had been born.
Rex sees the face the woman makes when he goes to pay. His heart sinks.
“I’m... we don’t usually take Republic credits here, you understand,” she says slowly. “But you’re in a bad spot, and I don’t want the babes to suffer. See about visiting the exchange office soon, though.”
He could almost cry. He doesn’t. It’s a near thing.
“Thank you,” he says instead, as emphatically as he can. “Thank you so much.”
She smiles faintly, tightly, uncomfortably. “If I could make one more suggestion?”
He nods.
“There’s... there’s a nurse that runs a clinic down the way,” she says slowly. “She can look over the children, for one thing, but she can also... well, there’s a medication we can sell, to single fathers and the like, but only with a prescription...”
He blinks at her, uncomprehending.
“It induces lactation in those who otherwise wouldn’t,” she says, and bares her teeth in something that isn’t quite a smile. “Not the most popular option, but it’s technically on the table for anyone with breast tissue, and breast milk is usually healthier overall for babies than formula, for most species. Um, it’s popular with adoptive mothers, wet nurses, same-sex couples, single fathers in a situation like your friend’s... tell me if I should stop talking.”
“No, no, I think that he’d actually appreciate that,” Rex hurries to assure her. “I can at least bring it up, and we’ll need to have regular medical attention for the twins anyway, so I need the address, don’t I?”
Her smile brightens into something a little more real, and she scribbles something down on some flimsi. “Here, just give this to your friend. Come here and ask for Teskarim if you have questions; that’s me.”
He commits the name in memory, dips his head in a nod of thanks, and makes his way for the door.
The trip back to the house is, by and large, uneventful. There are still no rumors. There are still no chip-loyal brothers. There are still no bounty posters, or--
His eyes dart back to the bounty board, just for a second. There’s a face on there that shouldn’t be. He doesn’t linger; it’s bad form, suspicious. Instead, he heads for the newsstand a few stalls down, pauses just long enough to get the date, and strikes out for the little house and their ship without changing his stride. Externally, he looks entirely normal.
His mind is in a daze.
3,594 ATC
The year is 3,594.
He hasn’t been born yet.
He does the math.
His General hasn’t been born yet.
Sith Hells, High General Kenobi hasn’t been born yet.
Rex is...
He has to talk to Anakin.
#Rexwalker#Captain Rex#Anakin Skywalker#Skywalker Twins#time travel#star wars#phoenix posts#this may or may not get continued but I wanted to at least get the idea down#Rex and Anakin Raise a Family#death tw#grief tw#depression tw#ptsd tw#childbirth mention#lactation mention#male lactation#I feel like the lactation thing is probably out of left field for some people but Meh#I want Anakin to go hard on parenting
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can we very gently talk about call out posts / culture really quick? not in a judgmental way, but in like a: i just want to pose a thought and explain why i’m never going to buy into it and why i wish it would become less of a trend instead of more of one? and i’ll add the disclaimer here: i totally get not wanting certain people around you for various reasons, that is all your prerogative. that’s your comfort level. but in emphasizing “your blog should be a safe space” we’re kind’ve losing sight of the fact that the rpc should also be a safe space, and as much as your comfort and safety matter, so do other people’s. and not just the person who hurt you, but the third parties and other mutuals and 99.9% of people who are not at all involved in any way in whatever happened. so, anyway here goes, read it or don’t, we all have different opinions or reasons, i just want to be heard:
people are allowed to change. think back to who you were last year. two years ago. think about the stuff you said when you were seventeen, or twenty-one, or hell whatever age you were. current-you would probably cringe at the kind of stuff past-you had to say. because you grew. you learned. you had life experiences. in hindsight you have the freedom to be like “oof yeah that was not the best version of myself right there damn i don’t want to be like that again.” the growing trend of ‘here’s a 10+ page google doc complete with out of context screenshots that sometimes date back to like 2017 or earlier’ makes this kind of change impossible. because right there, you’ve just frozen a person in time, probably not at their best, removed any and all amounts of context, and put it on the internet and let other people judge it for themselves.
so that leads into another point that i want to just kinda present to the community at large: the act of documenting behaviors and storing them for months / years at a time, in itself creates a super unsafe environment, not just for you, your friends, the people who have hurt you --- but also for anyone else that isn’t at all involved in whatever happened. like, for example, i like to think that i’m a pretty nice person. i actively try to be a nice person. am i sometimes not having the best day? have people definitely caught me in bad moments? oh hell yeah. but am i, as someone who tries really hard to be nice and welcoming, constantly thinking through every message i send to someone knowing that a) i could have a reputation that makes them read into context that isn’t there and that could contribute to them misinterpreting words i meant in a different way, b) very aware that every post i make, ask i send, message i send can at any moment be screenshotted and posted and taken out of context and either serve as someone’s only opinion of me or pile on to someone’s existing opinion of me? yeah. so in my experience, and based on people i’ve talked to, we now have this thing where you can be surface-friends wtih a lot of people, but if you want to survive in the tumblr rpc you should really only have 2-3 people that you really trust that you can actually talk about shit with.
and lately i’ve been seeing a resurgence of posts on my dash about like “bring back xyz in the rpc” or “the reason the rpc is like this is because of xyz” and i both agree and disagree with a lot of this, but primarily i think the reason the rpc is Off lately is because everyone and their cousin has a DNI, which is --- again --- your decision and i understand and respect that, but while you know the context of every name on that DNI, other people don’t. and to be honest: other people don’t really care and honestly maybe they shouldn’t care. --- and don’t get me wrong, your friends should care if someone has hurt you. that’s important. but joe billy bob who just wants to write their character with yours is going to read through your rules, they’re going to see “do not interact with me if you follow with or interact with these people you’ve never heard of and if you want me to tell you why just message me” (which no one is ever going to do, i’m sorry to say). and say, joe billy bob also followed that other person because they were like ‘omg this blog looks cool’ --- now joe billy bob, who just wants to write cool plots, is suddenly the middle-man in some type of drama that they do not understand, and maybe they’re able to remove themselves from the situation, but even then it’s still in the back of your mind.
this is getting long. it’ll be longer, but let’s take a brief break for me to remind you that in some cases, it’s definitely good to give your mutuals and friends a heads up when someone has done something really, really bad. like, remember x amount of years ago when some dude was like ‘i’m gonna make up a new person and say they died by suicide as a social experiment’ or ‘hey this person actively tries to force very triggering plots about abuse / rape / incest onto people and has been doing so for years and does not seem to change their ways no matter how many people try to educate them’ that’s shit people should probably know about. and it’s also okay ( in my opinion ) for your friends to be able to message you like ‘hey i saw you’re writing with x and i just wanted to let you know i had this experience with them’ if that’s something they feel comfortable doing. and if they are comfortable with you still having the autonomy to make your own decision regarding the person.
i’ll be honest, for a second: i’ve been part of friendships and groups that have turned really toxic for one reason or another. a handful of times. there are probably people out there that are like “yeah this chick is really fake and manipulative and etc, i was friends with her back in 2019″ which, okay. yeah. i’ve definitely done shit and said shit that was not the most representative of who i want to be and who i want to become, and you probably have to. because we are human beings and we are a product of our social groups and the community around us. and you shouldn’t be chained to a version of you that isn’t you anymore. people change. they grow. you don’t have to like them, but you should respect that sometimes people don’t mesh, and that doesn’t mean any of them are bad people, it just means the experience was bad.
a few additional notes i would like to make but i’ve already gone on way too long:
90% of the callout posts that i’ve seen and the DNI’s that i’ve seen can, in my opinion, be classified as a friend group thing. you were friends with x, x did something, now y and z aren’t friends with x anymore. pain is a very, very real thing and people hurting you should never be minimized, but at some point i just want you to remember that not every friendship is going to end happily, but both you and the other party should be allowed to move on and grow better, healthier friendships after. rehashing Friend Group Gone Wrong instances removes that ability for not only person x, but also person y and z.
you putting out a callout says just as much ( maybe more ) about you than it does about the other person. which sucks. because i’d like to think we all have great intentions, and i’m not saying that you should swallow your pain, but it might not be the kind of thing that impacts the community at large, and maybe you should try to find a better way of working through it with a trusted friend(s)
i’m going to be very real and very blunt on this one: literally no one cares. i say that with love. i’m good friends with people who have each other on their DNI’s. establish a baseline of respect and ‘i’m not going to say anything to them about you and vice versa because there’s no need for me to do so’ and move on. but seriously. no one cares. most outside people read callout posts because they like being in the know about the drama, not because they actually care.
person a and person b who are mentioned in the DNI / callout aren’t the only ones who are going to be affected. your friends, your mutuals, your writing partners are now all put in a weird spot where you have to pick sides on an issue you know nothing about and shouldn’t have to know anything about. you’re asking people to choose sides on an issue they cannot fully understand, and that’s not fair to them or to you. and it drives great people away. and then we all lose out on having more awesome people in the rpc.
you’re entitled to your safe space, but this is a public platform and you are also responsible for maintaining your safe space. you shouldn’t put it entirely on other people to do that for you. you can block, blacklist, make up funny names for, or spitefully erase from your many anything and anyone that you wish. but you shouldn’t make your friends do it for you.
there’s always an inherent power imbalance when any kind of drama occurs between those who have more followers / friends / connections and those who do not. and the smaller blog is always going to suffer a little bit more because they don’t have people blindly coming to their defense.
bad moments, bad experiences, bad decisions DO NOT equal bad people.
allow people to make up their own mind about something or someone
anywho, if you read through this whole thing i think i owe you financial compensation. but also thank you for reading / listening / considering. even if you rolled your eyes through the whole thing like “stfu lia” that’s fine. i’m just presenting an alternative thought. i’d like to once again state: i’m not judging you if you’ve made a callout/DNI or if you’re on a callout/DNI. like i literally don’t care. and frankly, in my opinion, i shouldn’t have to. because i, and you, and your friends, and your mutuals, and your non-mutuals should be allowed the space to make up their own opinion and mind on something or someone without being told that there will be consequences if they don’t agree with you. set boundaries. communicate in healthy ways. you don’t have to forgive the people who have hurt or wronged you, but you also don’t get to decide that their actions make up 100% of who they are as a person, or decide that that is the only side of that person people should get to see.
#ʟᴇᴛ’s ᴛᴀʟᴋ ɢʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ʀᴜʟᴇs ⸺ psa.#/ long post cw.#when i say long i mean LONG#i could do an entire dissertation on this#i could do a ted talk#but ys know#if anyone wanted to do some ahem non-light reading this morning#*jazz hands*#( if you want to reblog this monstrosity you definitely can )
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call me cupid
w/c: 3.5k
warnings: very mild angst and a few swears
summary: despite your hatred for valentine’s day, peter attempts to make you a card
a/n: happy valentine’s day my loves!! i hope y’all get to spend some time with your people today and eat lots of chocolate <3 love you & enjoy mwah
-
it’s no secret that peter is terrible with words. he gets so flustered he can’t talk or forgets what he wants to say altogether. school presentations are torture. ordering food out is impossible. he’s accepted it at this point, that speaking just isn’t for him.
the one place it doesn’t come across is on paper. peter is ridiculously smart, and he knows all the right words to string together, which is why writing you a valentine should be no trouble at all. should be no trouble at all.
to tell the truth, he’s been sitting at his kitchen table with a blank sheet of paper in front of him for what feels like hours. nothing is coming to him. he’s not sure why this is so hard. you’re his girlfriend, he loves you, he’s said it so many times in every way he could think to. what’s different about it now?
everyone puts way too much pressure on giving the perfect gift when they should really just be enjoying each other’s company on a holiday about love. or, in your words, a meaningless holiday that was created by capitalists as another excuse to take people’s money.
alright, you aren’t too fond of valentine’s day.
it makes anyone who’s single feel like shit and anyone who’s in a relationship lose their shit.
only mj agreed when you shared your criticisms. ned and betty gave you looks like you were insane, and flash muttered something about you being undateable. peter had laughed and swung an arm around your shoulders, but he didn’t fully agree.
although valentine’s day has its flaws, peter likes to see it as twenty four hours of extra appreciation for the people in his life. you can buy chocolate for your friends and family. it doesn’t have to be a significant other, really. him and ned would do it before he had you and ned had betty.
peter wants to remind you how loved you are even if you’re not into the festivities like he is, that bringing him to writing your card. it’s a simple and clinically underrated way of expressing his gratitude. he’d write you love letters every day if he didn’t suck at them.
may comes out of her room to see peter in the same place he’s been since he got home from school. she looks at him through her glasses, smiling as she comes into the room. he’s tapping his pencil on the table, eraser down, searching his mind for anything to write.
“still nothing?” may asks him, making her way over to the cabinets. peter puts down the pencil and sighs. his shoulders slump. “nope. i haven’t gotten past the intro.” “intro, huh?” she teases her newphew and grabs a jar of sauce. “y/n isn’t your teacher, kiddo. you’re not writing her an essay.” she looks at peter over her shoulder. a sheepish smile creeps onto his face.
“you know what i mean.” he reads over the only words on his paper at the moment. dear y/n. he’s starting to feel like spongebob the one time he wrote a paper. “what are you making?” peter asks may so he can temporarily take the focus off his unwritten valentine. “pasta,” may shakes the box in her hand. “and meatballs.”
“should i dial 911 now or wait until we’re in flames?” peter jokes about her awful cooking skills. may shoos him off and puts the box of pasta on the counter. “worry about your own kitchen nightmare.” she nods at the sheet of paper tormenting him. frowning, he glances back at her. “i’m the worst, may. i really don’t know what to write.”
may struggles to open the jar of sauce as she replies. “i thought you said- jesus.” it pops off. “y/n doesn’t like valentine’s day.” she slides over a pot from the stove and dumps the sauce in. peter stares up at the ceiling. “she doesn’t.” that’s probably why he’s having such a hard time. “why are you writing her a card, then?” may questions, turning on a burner.
“because, i dunno, it’s nice? it’ll make her happy? she might not care, but i do.” he mumbles the last part. he’s a bit of a hopeless romantic, so he hasn’t quite adjusted to the idea you had of not getting each other presents. you’re treating it like a regular day. some takeout and cuddles is all you’re doing.
peter would rather buy you things until his pockets are empty. not that there’s much in them, anyway. the point is that you deserve proper spoiling instead of corny words in his shitty handwriting.
“peter, honey. it might be better to stick with what y/n wants,” may suggests while stirring the sauce in the pot. she’s well aware that a few paragraphs from peter won’t change your mind. your opinions belong to you, and there’s nothing he can do about it, though he does have good intentions.
ignoring what may just said, peter makes a request. “what if you help me write it?” she faces the stove again. he can picture her playful smile when she quirks back, “she’s not my girlfriend.” “no, but you’re a girl... a woman,” he corrects himself, earning a scoff from may. “you’d probably know what sounds good.”
“you know y/n better than me, peter. do it on your own,” she exhales and turns back around with the wooden spoon in her hand. “it’ll be more... heartfelt.” peter hates that may is right because he’s completely stuck. his heart is being stupid today. “okay. i’ll try.” he gives her a slow nod. “why don’t you take a break? come stir the sauce. i’ll start the pasta.”
peter gets up from the table and grabs the spoon from may. she pinches his cheek on her way to the sink, getting a tight lipped smile from him.
this is not good.
-
the next day at school, peter asks around the lunch table for advice while you’re on line getting food. he feels guilty about it because may told him not to. he’s never going to get your valentine done if he doesn’t, though. it isn’t the worst thing in the world to bring on some co-writers.
“ok, what do you have so far?” betty asks, fully invested in the situation. she’s hoping this will switch up your views on valentine’s day. peter pulls out the same piece of paper from last night and says verbatim what’s on it. “dear y/n.” he looks up at ned and betty, the corners of his mouth twitching down. ned motions with his hand for peter to go on.
“that’s it,” peter confesses and folds the paper back up in shame. “dude, you told us it was a work in progress,” ned winces, betty taking his hand that’s resting on her shoulder. “where’s the progress?” betty patronizes him. they’re making him feel worse than he already did. what great co-writers he’s collaborating with.
peter throws a hand up, an eye roll included. “yeah, it’s terrible. can you help me or not?” mj narrows her own eyes at peter from the other end of his bench. she’s not interested in participating when the conversation is about forcing you to celebrate a holiday you don’t like.
“ooh!” betty squeals and squeezes ned’s hand. “you should make a list.” ned grins, leaning his head on hers. “genius, babe.” “a list of what?” peter furrows his eyebrows as he looks between the two of them. “what you love about y/n,” she explains, ned adding on, “stuff you do together, or you appreciate.”
“put whatever you come up with into sentences and voilà,” betty says in her best french accent. “oui oui,” ned agrees, both of them giggling. that doesn’t sound half bad. peter could manage a list about you. “thank you so much, guys. you literally just saved valentine’s day,” he confidently tucks his paper into his pocket. “it’s what we do,” ned tells him coolly.
“you never asked what i think,” mj cuts in, staring down her friends, who reluctantly meet her gaze. she pushes her bag of goldfish aside and raises an eyebrow. “mj, we know how you feel about valentine’s day.” peter presses his lips together. “y/n feels the same way,” mj reminds him dryly.
it’s true, but he doesn’t want to hear that right now. he’s having a breakthrough.
like clockwork, you appear at the table. you slip into the spot next to peter and put down your lunch tray. “what’d i miss?” you comment on the obvious tension, eyeing betty for an explanation. mj gives it to you. “valentine’s day discourse,” she tells you knowingly. peter shifts in his seat, uncomfortable, like he’s been caught doing something he isn’t supposed to.
he technically has.
“yuck,” you murmur, winding your arms around peter’s neck. “yuck, yuck, yuck.” he finds your words ironic because you then kiss his cheek, and peck his lips when he turns his head. peter puts a hand on your side and lets his eyes go up and down your face. a smile spreads across it, which he returns without thinking about. mj huffs in disapproval. she’s seen enough pda.
-
peter makes his list later that night. he decided he isn’t being inauthentic because he’s coming up with everything himself. he breezes right through it, jotting down what he loves most about you across the paper. it’s a mess. scribbled out misspellings and shreds of eraser, single words and whole phrases covering both sides. he’s proud of his actual progress.
he’ll write the official letter tomorrow since you’re coming over tonight. he at least has his material. the next, thankfully final, step is to reword it.
you’re ranting to peter about some drama with one of your teachers. he listens intently as always, chuckling when you crack jokes and grinning the entire time, feeling so lucky to have the most passionate, say whatever is on her mind girlfriend ever. seriously, it’s inspiring to watch.
“no, like, i never know what’s going on in that class,” you snort, peter snaking his arms around your middle from behind. “because you don’t pay attention,” he hums with his face nuzzled into the back of your neck. “because it doesn’t make any sense!” you defend yourself. his lips brush against your bare skin, drawing a giggle out of you.
“back to what i was saying,” your voice drips with sarcasm. the two of you naturally gravitate to his room, you walking in first. “she called on me, and i- what’s this?” you escape peter’s arms and head over to his desk. crap, he was working on your valentine and forgot to put it away. it caught your attention because it’s surrounded by crumpled papers and glitter.
peter was... experimenting... with designs for the front of the card. he’s learned that he isn’t too artistic either.
“wait, don’t read that,“ peter tries, but you’ve already got the list in your hands. he anxiously sucks his lower lip into his mouth and comes to stand next to you.
you first see the ‘dear y/n,’ then focus in on a few other words. my person forever, which makes you coo at the paper. insane (in the best way), which makes you gasp dramatically. i know you don’t like valentine’s day, but...
you drop the card back on the desk and let out a breath, shutting your eyes as irritation creeps in. it wouldn’t be fair for you to be mad at peter because it’s a sweet gesture, it really is. just, not for you personally. you’re on opposite sides of the valentine’s spectrum. you despise it, he sort of loves it. you’d hoped to meet somewhere in the middle.
“i thought we said no gifts,” you keep your voice level and spin around to look at peter. his face is painted with guilt. “it’s a card,” he murmurs, then meets your eyes with his brows knitted together. “i can’t even give you a card?” “i mean...” you shrug and shake your head. “look, peter. we had an agreement. i’m not doing valentine’s day.”
his disappointment comes out in the form of hanging his head. “yeah, you’re right. sorry.”
may tried to tell him this would happen, mj tried to tell him, and now you’re telling him. he should’ve expected it. he isn’t sure why he’s being so mopey about it because he was fully aware of your hatred for anything with the word valentine in it. it still hurts. peter just wishes you’d let him have the one day to love you and only you, give you some special attention.
“it’s nothing against you, babe,” you reassure him, noticing the shift in his mood. you put a hand on his shoulder. “i really just don’t like valentine’s day. it feels so... fake to me.” peter musters up a smile that doesn’t meet his eyes. it drops when you loop your arms around his torso.
“if i celebrated, you’d be the first person i’d wanna spend it with.” you punctuate your words with a kiss to his cheek. he rests his chin on your head, you nuzzling your own cheek into his sweater. he’s feeling a bit better now. it’s not about him, that’s what he needs to remind himself. “thanks, baby,” peter speaks lowly into the air. you hum as if to say no problem.
scratch literally everything he’s done.
-
peter rolls over in his bed, rubbing at his eyes as his alarm goes off. it’s today. happy valentine’s day to... himself. he doesn’t think you’d want to hear it.
he’s not as broken up about everything as the other day. you have your reasons for not celebrating, and peter accepts them. hey, he still gets to spend the whole day with you. you’re technically having an unspoken valentine’s date.
he gets up from his bed with a yawn and starts to dig through his drawers for an outfit. you should be over soon.
before you head over to peter’s, you decide to make a quick stop at cvs for a few things. you ended up feeling pretty terrible about snapping on him essentially for loving you. it was over a harmless valentine, something to make you feel good and be an outlet for the hundreds of romantic bones in his body. basically, you were bitter about having a thoughtful boyfriend.
you want to make it up to him by giving him gifts instead. you’ll never be down with the whole exploitive and capitalistic side of valentine’s day, but there’s a deeper meaning to it than what you give it credit for. you see that now. peter was able to show his love for you through a homemade mess of a card, and you felt it. the price tags don’t matter. the meaning does.
dressed in his nicest sweater with his hair all styled, peter answers your knocking at his door. a grin instantly paints his face as he takes you in. you’re bundled up in a coat and holding a bag by your side. “hey,” he greets you and lets you past him. you shut the door behind him, returning the smile and winding an arm around his neck for a hug. his drapes around your back.
“hey. happy valentine’s day.” “happy valentine’s-“ peter realizes what he’s about to say and what you just said, then stops himself. “what?” he breaks the hug, squinting at your odd behavior. you’re the last person he’d expected to hear that from. “it’s valentine’s day. so, happy valentine’s day,” you tell him like it’s nothing.
he stays quiet while you shrug off your coat and throw it over one of the kitchen chairs. you bring your bag along with you, peter following you in. he’s suspicious. intrigued, and suspicious. it’s been less than a day since he last say you. you had a change of heart that fast? you aren’t the biggest valentine’s day anti he knows anymore?
“where’s may?” you wonder aloud, taking both of peter’s hands in your now free ones. he eyes the shopping bag you put down while you lace your fingers together. “with happy. they’re getting brunch.” he’s never particularly psyched to talk about their relationship. it’s always been in a joking way, though. now, he sounds genuinely upset to go over may’s whereabouts.
“they’re so cute,” you comment, tugging on peter’s hands so he looks at you. “you good?” “great,” peter half lies and nods, then presses a reassuring kiss to your cheek. he’s not bad. puzzled is the word. what you say next only adds to it.
“good. i have a few things for you,” you beam at him and grab your shopping bag off the chair. that’s what that’s for? peter isn’t fully sure what you’re up to. it doesn’t stop a smile from stretching across his lips, though.
“what happened to no presents?” he tests you as you reach into the bag. “well, i feel bad about how i acted the other day.” you pull out a heart shaped box of chocolates. “the card was really sweet, and i was too caught off guard to appreciate it. i’m sorry, pete.” peter’s eyes twinkle at you, gazing as you give him a smile with a hint of shyness behind it. you’re leaving your comfort zone and entering his.
“i was wrong and cynical and just, yeah. happy valentine’s day,” you add on and shove the box into his hand. he finally grins, so wide and then lets out a breathy laugh. “thanks, y/n. i know it was probably hard to shop being surrounded by this stuff.” he holds up the box. he’s right. you’ll unfortunately be seeing pink and red for weeks. “it was, but i did it for you.” you happily open up your arms for him.
peter puts down the chocolates and pulls you into his arms, his cheek squished against the side of your head as he hugs you to his chest. “oh my god, i love you so much,” he mumbles out, you squeezing him in response. “i love you, pete.” you press a quick kiss to his neck and hold him at arm’s length so you can see him. “i have something else for you.”
“baby,” peter coos, a pout on his lips. “you don’t have to do all of this. i would’ve been fine without the chocolates, even.” “stop, you deserve it,” you shut down the part of him that’s way too nice and selfless. “you’re my real present,” he says lower and with a toothy smile. shaking your head, you reach behind you and into the bag.
he can’t believe you’ve switched stances on valentine’s day. you’re the present pusher, and he’s refusing them. peter thinks it’s some sort of miracle that you’re not only acknowledging the holiday, you’re also partaking in it. his hopeless romantic side tells him it’s actually love, and it is. that’s the cheesy, hallmark movie truth. you suffered through shopping at a heart themed cvs because you love him. simple.
you return with a pink envelope that you place into peter’s hand. his face softens as he closes his fingers around it. “y/n, you made me a card?” “kind of,” you laugh at his overstatement. it’s obviously pre-made. you’d used a pen to fill it out in the store, scribbled a few words and tucked it into the envelope.
“it really doesn’t compare to yours, though,” you simultaneously warn and compliment him. peter dismisses you with a lighthearted click of his tongue. “oh, shush. that was only a rough draft.” “which proves my point even more. open it.” you grip onto the bottom of his sweater and grin.
he keeps his eyes on you while ripping open the envelope, then looks down and chuckles at the gag of the card. it has r2d2 and r4d4 from star wars on the front. inside is already written, “r4 is red and r2 is blue. if i was the force then i’d be with you.” you giggle to yourself, watching him read what you wrote next. i love you more every day, especially on valentine’s. xo, y/n.
peter holds the card to his side and slings an arm around your waist. “they make star wars valentines?” he murmurs, another smile breaking out on his face, one that you of course return. you use his sweater to pull him closer. “apparently. perfect for you.” peter tosses the card down next to the chocolates, both arms now holding you.
“thank you so much, baby. you’re an angel,” he sighs and pecks your lips after. “call me cupid,” you answer.
you give him a longer kiss back, tilting your head up to deepen it. your hands find their place on his biceps, earning a hum from peter as he moves his lips against yours. you can feel his love in every little movement, how he hugs your waist like you’re made of glass, rests his forehead against yours. when your lips mutually detach, peter speaks first, voice slightly husky.
“happy valentine’s day, cupid.”
you breathe out, peter closing his eyes in content.
“happy valentine’s day, r2.”
#tom holland#tom holland fluff#tom holland imagine#tom holland x reader#tom holland x you#tom holland x y/n#tom holland smut#peter parker#peter parker imagine#peter parker fluff#peter parker x you#peter parker x y/n#peter parker fic#peter parker fanfiction#peter parker smut
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the lost princess of terrasen
rowaelin month - september 7th
prompt: fairytale au - (an anastasia au in this case)
important: okay y’all so i went way overboard with this entire au and it got out of hand so now this might just be a full-blown thing. however, with that whole releation and me going crazy with outlining and writing i could really only have this much of the story out and ready for today but i plan on continuing it!! hopefully after rowaelin month. enjoy this little introduction :)
(cw: brief descriptions of violence)
masterlist, AO3
~~~
At freshly 18, Celaena Sardothien was free. She’d aged out of the orphanage and was finally released to go live her own life, no longer held down in the outskirts of Rifthold. Celaena didn’t want to wait a second longer, the need to leave the horrid place she’d lived the last ten years was ingrained in her bones.
The woman who ran the orphanage, Clarisse, was cruel. From a young age, she poked at Celaena, commenting constantly on her weight or how she didn’t act like a proper young lady. Her entire life up until this point was spent at the mercy of Clarisse and her stern ways. All the girls in the orphanage were treated as maids and dolls for Clarisse to manipulate. But, Celaena made it, counting down the days until her birthday.
Now, here she was, stuck out in the cold. She’d imagined her freedom to be more alluring than this instead she was shaking as she wandered through side streets that led to the heart of Rifthold. She carried with her a backpack barely full of her meager belongings and the too-thin coat on her back. Clarisse didn’t even spare her a hat to keep out the cold so she moved her hair to shield her freezing ears the best she could and waddled along the snowy pavement.
She still had her kingsflame necklace around her neck, though, and that’s all that mattered. Where she had gotten it from she hadn’t a clue. The first memory she possessed was waking up in the very orphanage that would become her prison. Clarisse explained to her that she’d hit her head and a nice man named Arobynn had brought Celaena to Clarisse to be cared for. Clarisse questioned her about her family and upbringing relentlessly but Celaena could not recall a thing. Her mind was blank. For many nights as a young girl, she’d sit upright in the creaky, lumpy bed she occupied and willed herself to remember. She’d cry and scream, banging her fists into her head in frustration when nothing ever surfaced.
The only connection she had to whatever life she lived before was her kingsflame necklace. And she’d follow that kingsflame to the ends of the continent if it meant she’d one day solve the mystery of her existence.
Which led her to the first stop on her journey of discovery, Terrasen. Once Celaena had accepted that her memories weren’t coming back and this was the life she’d have to lead she adjusted. She served Clarisse and went to the small, dilapidated school down the street with the other orphans. There she discovered her love of books and the meager library the school offered became her sanctuary. It was there while she read a book on the kingdoms on Erilea, hoping something would strike her familiar she learned that kingsflame flowers only bloomed in one place, the capital of Terrasen, Orynth.
As a child that discovery was a revelation. Terrasen. Maybe she was from Terrasen.
As Celaena walked she felt her toes growing increasingly numb, Adarlan’s winters were bitter and she was not equipped with the proper wear. Her teeth chattered but she pushed forward, she needed to get passage to Terrasen.
She drew the map out of the pocket of her coat once again and checked the status of her journey. Only a little longer until she was at Rifthold’s main dock station.
The city of Rifthold was big and Celaena felt out of her depth as groups of people swarmed the streets walking to and from their different destinations. It was overwhelming, the smells, the tall buildings, the weather, the noise, the sheer number of people, everything.
Eventually, she saw the lights of the station and she blew a sigh of relief, she hadn’t been very confident in her ability to read a map. She approached a man sitting in a booth behind a sheet of glass, smoking a cigarette.
Celaena stepped up to the counter.
“Hello, sir, I’d like to buy a ticket to Orynth,” she gave him a smirk, leaning casually on the box. She’d learned from many years of coexisting with Clarisse and a revolving door of people that to make it through life you needed a mask. Celaena had crafted her mask carefully and had perfected her act after so many years. She exuded arrogance and confidence so that another soul would never see the scared, lost little girl she truly was.
The man grunted, blowing a puff of smoke from between his cracked lips. “Do you have your papers, girl?”
Her brain stalled. Papers? She cleared her throat, “papers?”
“Yes,” his scratchy voice replied, “you need papers to cross the border.”
Celaena’s heart sank but she kept her expression neutral. “Well, I-”
“Listen, girl, I’m not going to sit here and waste your time so don’t sit here and waste mine. If you don’t have the right documents then I can’t sell you a ticket, simple as that,” he held the cigarette between his teeth.
She searched for some way to turn this situation around, chewing on her bottom lip.
From the shadows a little ways into the dark alley adjacent to the docks, she heard a hissed whisper. “You, blondie,” an old woman emerged slightly from the shadows, beckoning Celaena forward with her index finger.
Celaena looked around, the man in the booth was already back to ignoring her, his nose stuck in a newspaper so she decided to approach the woman. She didn’t have much to lose and Celaena thought if it went south she could take her.
Celaena crept closer, tightening her grip on the strap of her backpack.
“You need papers?” Her voice was hoarse as if her throat was made of sandpaper. Celaena nodded her head keeping her guard up, watching her surroundings out of her peripheral.
“I know who can get you some,” her face morphed into a slight smile that unsettled Celaena more than anything. Celaena furrowed her brows, “who?” The woman tsked at her, her hot breath forming a cloud in front of her face.
“That kind of information isn’t free, my dear.” Celaena had to resist the urge to roll her eyes, everything came with a price in this world.
Celaena reached around to the side pocket of her backpack, fishing out a few coins she had to spare. She’d saved just enough from doing odd jobs to pay her fare to Terrasen. She deposited the coins into the palm of the old woman’s hand, her knobby fingers running along their smooth edges.
“Go a few streets north and into the red brick warehouse with the large windows, you can’t miss it. Ask for a Mr. Rowan Whitethorn, he’ll get you the papers,” she instructed, hoarding the scant sum of money she was given as though they were priceless heirlooms. Celaena turned her head in the direction the woman directed as if she could spot the warehouse from here and by the time she rounded back the woman had disappeared once again.
Celaena huffed and shot another glance at the ticket man, he was still paying no attention, tapping his cigarette out with his finger. She didn’t necessarily want to go on a wild goose chase to obtain these papers but she had no other way of getting them so she breathed deeply and shoved her hands into her pockets and twisted north.
The woman was right about not being able to miss the warehouse. It was a large, old, imposing structure, clearly, it had not been in use for some time now. Celaena crept closer peering into the foggy windows as she passed the front of the building. She couldn’t see anything and was unconvinced she’d find the elusive ‘Rowan Whitethorn’ inside.
Nonetheless, she approached a rusting metal door on the side and pushed it open with her gloved hand. The door protested but it miraculously opened revealing a wide area stacked high with boxes along the walls and corners.
She ventured further into the space, dust and broken glass crunching beneath her boots. She didn’t see any signs of life besides maybe some rats. As she neared the opposite corner what could’ve been a makeshift sitting area came into view, blocked from view initially by a stack of boxes. She approached noting the circle of crates, a dusty blanket, and a few books piled on the side.
She peered at the title of the book on the top of the stack.
The Royal Family of Terrasen. Mixed emotions surged through her body.
“Who’s in here?” A male voice boomed nearly rattling the windows. Celaena shuttered, letting her bravo fill her bones as she heard a set of footsteps enter the space.
+++
Rowan Whitethorn’s life since the fall of Terrasen and the reign of the Valg had been a hell-hole, to put it bluntly. His family fell out of status, his parents were slain in the ambush on Orynth’s castle, and Rowan was left in an unfamiliar land at twelve years old.
A sect of the Whitethorn house had been visiting Terrasen’s court for the holidays when Maeve made her move against the continent. Doranelle crumpled first to her rule and Terrasen followed, the army of Valg she’d amassed was too large to stand against. Adarlan only survived because King Dorian bowed down to Maeve.
Even now at twenty-two, he has nightmares about that evening. The terror he felt as Valg poured into the ballroom and slaughtered the royals. The terror he saw in the princess of Terrasen’s eyes as she was shoved into the kitchens by her nursemaid where Rowan had happened to take shelter as well. He was scared too, running as soon as his father screamed at him to as the Valg slit his throat. He regretted it deeply, leaving like a coward when the palace was invaded. He regretted the cowering he did in the kitchens as well but when the young princess had burst in the doors, tears flowing freely down her cheeks something had come over him. He had pushed her out into the snow yelling at her to run and she did, scrambling to find her footing.
The rest was a blur, the Vlag hurried into the kitchens soon after but somehow Rowan made it out with his life. The same could not be said for many people in the castle that night.
Now, Rowan lived in Rifthold as a thief and doer of other’s dirty work. He longed for the day he could get out of this city of nightmares crawling with Valg. One day, he promised himself, one day he’d have to funds to make it back to Wendlyn and witness what had become of his home.
There was an opportunity, though, that’d heard about from whispers on the streets. Aedion Ashryver. One of the few survivors from Terrasen’s downfall. He chosen to stay in Terrasen’s territory afterward, the country had no real structured ruling now. The old King-Consort Darrow was the closest thing there was to a king but from what he’d gathered the man is old and weak, not the same after the death of his husband, King Orlon. Terrasen had virtually crumbled.
Somehow, Aedion had built up the Bane and gained standing for himself. A standing he was using to campaign to find his long-lost cousin. How Maeve hadn’t gotten wind of Aedion and his plotting and squashed him, Rowan wasn’t sure. Nevertheless, Aedion was offering a hefty reward for the return of his dear Aelin, the nation’s true queen, convinced she was still alive.
Rowan thought the operation was useless. Her body was never found, that was true, but he imagined she’d likely fled into the Oakwald forest and perished from hypothermia not long after. If he could make a pretty penny from returning the ‘princess’ to Aedion, though, he wasn’t above doing so.
All Rowan needed was a young, blonde, and blue-eyed woman he could convince to join his cause and he could coach her to be the perfect replacement for Aelin. Truthfully, he wasn’t convinced this could ever be achieved but it was something he’d contemplated.
Rowan was making his way back to the warehouse he liked to operate his more shady business out of, the biting cold seeping into his clothes. The looming, muddy red-brick building came into view and he pushed the frosted metal door open. Immediately, he was aware that someone had invaded his space.
Small footsteps had disrupted the layer of dusk along the floor. His hand flew to the dagger strapped to his chest as he prowled further inside.
“Who’s in here?” he called out, gripping the dagger tightly by its handle. Once he got far enough into the space he could see a young woman was standing near his makeshift seats.
The first thing he noticed was she was beautiful. Long, golden blonde hair flowed down her shoulders, her skin was pale and her lips had a blue tint to them. Rowan pushed aside all those unsavory thoughts, she was an intruder after all. However, he couldn’t help but study her, she was dressed far too light for the dead of winter, not even a hat on her head.
She looked right back at him, accessing him as he was her. She didn’t look scared to have been caught trespassing, no, honestly, she looked annoyed as if he was interrupting her.
“Who the hell are you?”
~~~
let me know if y’all like it so far and would like to see more, xoxo
#rowaelin fanfic#aelin x rowan#rowan x aelin#rowaelin#rowan whitethorn#aelin ashryver galathynius#aedion ashryver#throne of glass#throne of glass fanfiction#rowaelin month#rowaelin au#rowaelin fanfiction
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Top Forty Thor-Being-Thor Moments from Thor 1
just absolute dumb*ssery that this 7yr old kid’s life goal is to “hunt down the monsters and slay them all”. I’ll go easy on him here and let the Thor/Loki expressions do the talking because of “...just like you did Father” but seriously can his hands even fit around a sword handle??? this kid isn’t even punching the air right??? if there was a sword in his hand he would’ve cut his head with the way he’s moving???? pure tiny-himbo energy here just look at that >:o face he’s making. contrasts very nicely with Loki’s ‘,:|. 10/10. such a baby idiot.
“the jotuns must pay for what they have done! they broke into the weapons vault! if the frost giants had stolen even one of these relics!” thor. thor please. can you even name one of these relics. thor. hey thor. thor. shut up. “well, what would you do about this?” odin asks him. “march into jotunheim! like you once did! break their spirits! so they’ll never try anything like this again!” wow okay so we’ve fast-forwarded by like a thousand years and thor is still going on about genocide. huh. that’s funny, i thought loki was the genocidal one. hmm. i also just realized that the loki exclusive clip gives loki the same hairstyle thor has here so do what you will with that information.
0/10. horrible. terrible. i dont care how angy thor is about not getting to kill some jotuns or become king today this very instant, that is a tremendous waste of food. an absolute fool. how can he just remorselessly throw the bread to the floor. if loki stabbed him when he was 7 he would deserve it for this table flip alone. what a privileged white *ssh*le.
loki came skulking around a corner and suggested not to go to jotunheim and not only did thor not suspect anything but he also then went on to decide to go to jotunheim. 10/10 himbo material.
if tumblr didn’t have a picture limit i would put every instance of thor smiling in this list because look at that stupid smile. he’s such an idiot. 11/10. this is the thor content i’m here for.
“I have no plans to die today” thor says with the stupidest open-mouthed smirking smile ever captured on film. right after he also told heimdall not to tell anyone they’re gone. he’s literally planned to strand them on jotunheim. thor’s grand plan was to strange themselves on jotunheim and also start a fight. i repeat: thor’s plan was to successfully slay all the frost giants and not need to return until they’re all gone. what an absolute d*mb*ss. this is getting ridiculous. this was originally a top-ten-thor moments list but i’m not even twenty minutes in so i’ll have to extend the list. thor. thor are you listening? thor, you’re such an idiot.
“HOW DID YOUR PEOPLE GET INTO ASGARD?!” thor you sweet sweet summer idiot, please, i am beggin,g you,, learn to rea,d , a room,, literally everyone else who came with you is regretting it, there is complete silence and only the rumble of the opposing king is meeting your “I AM THOR, SON OF ODIN”s, please, please take some notes from Loki, or, you know, literally anyone else in the room, since everyone is asking you to get out of this realm while you still can,
thor’s stupid smile makes an appearance after he gets called a princess and decides to fight a whole realm over it. you know what? thor is a princess. he’s the prettiest princess in all the lands. what’s thor gonna do about it? is he going to fight me too? I hope he does the stupid grin first. minus 15 points for the sexism. thor is a complete and utter sadistic fool who needs to get a hobby. seriously, he’s 1500 years old and still going on and on about slaying all the frost giants. boi, i hate to break it to you, but your dad is not the best or only example of greatness out there. i don’t think your dad even qualifies as an example of that.
“THEN. GO!” 🥰 ahh yes, just thor thingz 🥰🥰 like when one friend has had his arm burnt 🥰 and another friend has been impaled and needs medical attention, 🥰🥰 and all the rest of your friends are yelling for you, 🥰 and your brother is telling you they must go, 🥰 and you decide to buy everyone time by laughing maniacally and killing more frosties because you care for them and dont find joy in destruction like a loon 🥰🥰🥰
THIS is the iconic Thor moment that makes my day whenever I think about it. Just Thor, an absolute bumbering 6′6′’ giant boodlusting dummy sees Odin and just decides to yell “FATHAA!! WE’LL FINISH THEM TOGETHAAA!” as if the last thing Odin told him wasn’t “no, thor, we’re not going to do anything to the frost giants, do not go after them and try to kill them all.” 11/10 d*mb*assery right here folks, I couldn’t ask for Thor to be more of a fool. This is PEAK Thor energy. Look at that face. I feel like Thor spends half this movie with his nostrils flared. I love it.
okay i gotta give thor credit for rightfully calling odin “an old man and a fool” but also there was not even 1 frame of the scene where Thor had a decent face so now all i see is >:O >:| >:o >:[ when i watch that scene. yelling at odin was great, not yelling at odin after he HUAERGHed at loki was less great, but to be fair it’s thor and he is the definition of Peak D*mb*ss.
thor literally GROWLS and starts yelling “HAMMAA?? HAMMER??” over and over. He was hit by a van, he fainted, he woke up and started growling. I don’t know what else there is to say about this.
“you dare threaten me? puny human?”. so. uhh. basically. Thor knew she was threatening him? He KNEW she had a weapon? instead he made a face and started yelling as he tried to walk his way closer????? thor you complete and utter dum dum. you frickin hairball-for-brains. im not even surprised darcy tasered him. with that kind of face, i’d taser him too.
when you wake up in an unknown place to a person smiling at you without a stupid smile, the first step is always to attack first and ask questions later 😌😌😌 (but seriously thor you imbecile why didn’t you ask where you were instead of throwing multiple people around the room and getting your butt needled. you clueless buffoon. you’ll remain a clueless buffoon if you don’t listen to anyone.)
just a quick recap but thor was knocked unconscious by a van and these people kidnapped him aboard and the next scene we see him in he’s checking himself out in mirror after presumably changing right there in the open?????? these are the things that make thor thor. any other character and i’d question it so much, but this is thor, and i truly believe this is in-character for him. just change in the open because why not? thor is a beefcake and that’s his only redeeming quality and he knows it. 10/10 thor moment.
I am now convinced that Thor saw Jane and “5k van-hitter to lover slow-burn height-difference himbo-scientist trope” flashed through his mind.
“but no more smashing!” Jane says, and then Thor proceeds to check her out and smile unlike an idiot and like a douche. was this his version of flirting???? i’m not one to decide, but yes, yes it was. He threw a cup to the ground and broke it, and she’s getting mad at him and berating him about it, and he’s liking it. y’all i’m sorry to break it to you like this, but thor has a canon fetish. i am so, so sorry.
im DYING. THAT ISN’T EVEN A KISS, HIS MOUTH IS OPEN. he SMUSHES his mouth around her knuckle???? WHY. I can’t keep noticing things like this. send help. please. Jane’s response makes so much more sense now; she’s laughs for a solid 3 seconds and shakes her head and is like “uhh, thank you? ahaha,” and then she keeps looking back longingly when walking away. they are doing this in PLAIN sight of EVERYONE. Darcy and Erik are standing RIGHT THERE, and Thor is doing weird things to her with his mouth. I’m out. I am done here. goodbye.
return of the stupid smile AND the douche smile in quick succession through the entire trip. their entire dialogue is peppered with innuendo. “I’ve never done anything like this before. have you ever done anything like this before?” “many times, but you are brave to do it.” “I have nothing else to lose.” “ah but you are clever, far more clever than anyone else on this realm.” “realm? rEaLm?” “you think me strange?” “yes” “good strange or bad strange?” “I haven’t decided yet.” I AM DYING OVER THIS. plus, we get Return Of The Himbo with Jane asking after Einstein Rosen bridges and Thor is like “uh, actually, more like a rainbow bridge 😜🤪” i feel so sorry for jane here, didn’t know how much of a d*mb*ss Thor was when signing up for this van-trip and knuckle-sucking 😭😭😭 i also no longer have questions about how the trip that SHOULD HAVE BEEN A HALF-HOUR ONE turned into one that LASTED TILL THE SUN WENT FROM THE MIDDLE OF THE SKY TO SETTING by the time they arrived. I have no questions. please. I don’t want to know what they were doing in that van. please no. don’t make me think about it.
thor’s plan had 3 steps and they were 1. give jane his jacket 2. walk in and get his hammer 3. fly out. that was literally his plan. he had the first “I have a plan. attack.” moment in the MCU. pure concentrated 0-brain-cells energy right here. how can you not stan this king of d*mb*ssery. look at him, flaunting his big boy muscles. he’s about get his hammer and fly out, like he just told jane with a trademark stupid-smile.
crop-top hair-mop thor is my favourite thor. the way the entire fight scene parallels a hamster in a maze only exemplifies the thor vibes for some inexplicable reason.
“you’re big. fought bigger.” + Thor douche-smile + subtext from earlier + rolling around passionately in the mud = not a happy me.
I swear i’m not making up this romantic subtext but it’s barely even subtext. the entire scene leading up to Thor’s attempt at lifting the hammer is actually filmed erotically. I’m not kidding. First there’s a shot where Thor pulls aside a hamster-cage-wall blind which mirrors a shower-curtain, and THEN he walks around the hammer while smiling douche-ly at it, we get a few close-ups to his face which are shot from angles slightly lower than himself, giving him an aire of superiority, plus the music adds to this, he reaches out for the hammer’s handle with a mud-covered arm in the rain, in non-slow-motion slow-motion, and he wraps his arm around it, like, he fully twists his arm, unecessarily sexually, around it as he grabs the hammer. This is not okay. On the plus side, it makes the movie much more entertaining,, on the down side,,.
im not going to call Thor dumb for not knowing he’s not worthy. im not going to. because odin literally whispered the enchantment to mjolnir after he’d thrown thor to midgard. it is very funny watching thor grunt in frustration though. he starts yelling because he couldn’t lift the hammer and just lets himself get caught. like, dude, get a life, go buy a new weapon from the store, seriously. he mourns for the hammer on-screen longer than he does for loki. he also looks like he’s in far more pain here. he becomes catatonic and unresponsive after this, but when loki dies he’s already feasting the same afternoon. 10/10 dum dum thor material. never change thor, never change. (that’s code for please change, thor, please,)
thor trying to establish dominance wherever he goes is the funniest thing because at this point he’s being a complete asgardian *ss about it and it’s reaching points of pettiness never seen before. side note: he is possibly flirting with selvig too. maybe. i’m not saying anything happened, but Thor’s openning lines when bringing him home carried over his shoulder are “he’s fine, not injured at all,” followed with an apology to selvig, and an explanation to jane which consisted only of “we drank, we fought, he made his ancestors proud,” and then he puts the man to bed and before he falls asleep erik says “i still don’t believe you’re the g*d of th*nder, but you ought to be,” so... your choice, i guess...
thor’s got his trademark stupid smile and stupidly takes jane’s life’s work notebook and starts doodling in it about trees. the last time his father told him this story about Yggdrasil was when he was 5 and he clearly hasn’t payed attention to any lesson about anything since and it shows so so much. thank you thor. very insightful knowledge you’re passing on hear. ‘i come from a world where [science and magic] are one and the same,’ ok great, now elaborate on that please. oh, right, you can’t because you’re thor, my bad, 20/10 thor behaviour. he couldn’t even doodle nicely. all his lines are wobbly. epic art fail. i wouldn’t trust him near my sketchbook with a 2B pencil.
THIS is thor’s realization face. in case anyone was interested in what ‘dawning truth’ looked like on him. 😰😪 THIS is the face of a thinker, of a man betrayed by his own beloved brother for unprecedented reasons. look at the nuance in his expression. 😩😩😩 so many emotions, I can’t even count them all 😩💯😪
stupid smile and “do not worry my friends, i have a plan,” he says, “i’ll just try and abuse the fact that Loki’s super selfless and kind and has no self worth to my benefit as i have countless times before which is exactly what he’s rightfully angry about this time,” he doesn’t think to himself because that is NOT the smile of someone who is thinking... like, at all. +10000 points to gryffinthor. the d*mb*ssery really jumps out.
“im sorry bro for whatever i did and whatever you’re blaming me for as an excuse to do this, im sorry bro, but you’re disturbing innocents that i don’t really care about but you’re the one making a scene in front of them so why don’t you admit you won’t kill me and are just having a temper tantrum and we move on? hmm?” and then he proceeds to get slam dunked in the face with a metal arm like yEAAAA BOI that’s what you GET for going up against the SENTIENT LAVA-SPEWING metal-man ya absolute dunderhead clod. thunderhead clod? yeah, that. he’s just so dumb, your honour, please, you must understand, the victim pleads guilty on all charges of d*mb*ss and d*mb*ss alone.
I can NOT describe the emotions I feel knowing that Thor is suck-kissing Jane’s knuckles. Like, his mouth is literally jelly-ing it up against her hand. There is suction there and it shows when he is placing and removing his mouth. I promise that’s what is happening. I’m not any happier than you about this. I regret everything. This is why Loki should be what is focused on and not Thor; Thor’s going around trying to frick frack everything in sight even if it’s just Jane’s hand. He’s maintaining eye contact with Jane while he licks her fingers. Why did I decide to rewatch this movie.
i’m only adding this in as a thor moment because of how desperately and badly they kiss. seriously. 2/10 kiss. im not surprised jane broke up with him. they look like two actual seals fighting over an actual grape. while i’m here i’m going to criticize every fic ever that decided thor is an experienced gentle lover. what were y’all on when watching this movie. thor can and will f*ck literally everything in sight and he won’t even do it well because he is the peakest of peak d*m d*m. look at this man. look at his face. that is the face of an absolute himbo idiot, and it’s the face of an absolute himbo idiot who knows it. he’s been stranded on earth for 2 days, max, and his flirt-count is at 69 people because his name is one letter away from thot. i bet his terrible use of a pen from early means he writes his ‘r’s like ‘t’s and he doesn’t even care. 1000/10 thor moment. doesn’t get much more romance-thor than two individuals smooshing their faces together after some finger sucking. that finger sucking is gonna leave jane simping for years. and that’s true love babey. <3
“I’ll handle my Brother!” Thor says, as if Loki didn’t send a metal-murder-bot that quite virtually killed him less than ten minutes ago asdfhkhsdgsdjf Thor, you horrific himbo you, Loki’s weapon of choice is literally throwing knives he will literally kill you before you enter the room if he’s on his game and wants you dead which he just proved he would do and you’re just gonna???????????? jog on over to him????? Thor??????????? bruH???????????? buddy??????? pal???????? you really wanna go 1v1 the brother you very clearly underestimate and know nothing about????????????????? im loving the confidence, but, no.
Loki: “you literally can’t stop this from here.” Thor, immediately: “i’m going to hit it with the hammer and see if that works” and then it does in fact work later... technically speaking, even if it ends up causing chaos destruction and death and loki falling off the bifrost 😔😔😔 but Big Brain Thor is the Biggest Brained Thor!!! The plan worked!! in a messy-Thor-ish way, but it did!!!
“you can’t kill an entire race!!!!” Thor yells, teeth gritted, as he faces his brother, his coward pacifist brother, who has suddenly decided he wants to join the age-old family tradition of realm-destroying, when this is supposed to be Thor’s dream, Thor’s, not Loki’s. How dare he, Thor thinks to himself, fist clenched around Mjolnir in anger, the pain of the handle pressing against his palm perhaps the only thing preventing him from lashing out at this thought, that’s my planet of monsters to slay, he should go get his own! Loki hits Thor across the face with the back-end of his spear. “Now fight me,” Loki says, but Thor, well, Thor cannot fight, as he remains stunned that of all things Loki would dare steal his life’s ambition, and he is sent sprawling backwards across the observatory, slowly but surely sliding to a stop despite his catatonic, very symbolic silence.
the elegance, the poise, i see your time on earth has made you no less graceful, Thor. the simple magnitude of this sprawl. the spread of the arms. the turn of the feet. this is not a dude, this is a man.
sometimes your brother starts vehemently talking about he’s gonna kill the race of monsters and about how he’s only ever wanted to be your equal and about how he’s not your brother and never was and sometimes you just have to say “this is madness” instead of addressing the issues or asking for any of the deets 🔥 👊💯😩
Loki is whipping Thor’s butt. Both literally, and metaphorically, Loki is whooping Thor’s d*mb*ss. Earlier he knicked Thor’s face, now he’s just pushing Thor around, he uses the spear as a pole and later kicks Thor’s face by kicking vertically up, and Thor, bless him in all his blond golden muscled glory, doesn’t think anything is up with this, gosh he’s such an absolute utter idiot
sometimes your brother laughs way too much and also cries too much in a fight and there are also too many of him so you just need to blast lightning so you get a shot at all of them 😌😌😌 and then put your magical infinitely-heavy hammer on his chest 😌😌😌 but it’s okay because Thor left holes in Loki’s container 😌😌😌
now THIS is the meat to Thor’s funny bone, just the pure unadulterated humour that is Thor saying that there will never be a “wiser king” or a “better father” than Odin, it cracks me up every single time without fail, just the way he says it with a straight face and— what do you mean he wasn’t joking
look at Thor’s stupid smile as he asks Heimdall to spy on jane every single day while conveniently never asking after Loki ever. This is Thor’s face in mourning after he attended a feast after everyone was celebrating after Loki’s death. Look at his stupid smile. I love him your honour. He’s just,, he’s just so frickin stewpeed, just Thor being Thor, just the purest of d*mbest of *sses.
#listen#if people can interpret loki and the grandmaster as a thing when loki spends the entire time looking uncomfortable about every situation#then i can interpret thor as flirting with people when there are actual canon questions which get solved when other explanations dont work#so#dont mind me here#in conclusion: thor is a dum dum idiot and it's *chef's kiss*#thank you for coming to my ted talk#ThisPostIsLongerThanMyLifeSpan#TPILTMLS#Language!#language#im one of those people who comments on things through movies but you can't be mad because it's worth it and i've got points#obviously writing means i can get the full gist of the comments out without summarizing#but#like#my family is simply underappreciative and i'm a genius
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Cult Girl: Doctorate (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 2
Oils
Cult girl socializes at the opera and receives an unexpected call.
Note: I tagged this as “anti mlm” as in multi-level marketing and not men-loving-men.
Trigger warnings: Discussions of cults and emotional manipulation
It wasn't until after the opera was over that people began to notice you may have had a little fun during intermission. Hannibal's hair wasn't in its usual perfect side part and his jacket was slightly wrinkled in places. You could cover most of his love bites with your stole, but nothing could hide that post-orgasm glow.
Most opera-goers stayed to socialize for hours after the show concluded, making an already long night even longer. It was like clubbing, but for rich old people.
"So you're the future Mrs. Hannibal Lecter?" A woman with silvery hair said. She dragged her husband into the conversation by the arm. "I've heard so much about you."
You were about to say something witty, but noticed the way she was looking at you. Scanning you up and down. Looking for anything out of place to grill you about.
"Only good things, I hope." Hannibal said in your silence. His voice was vaguely threatening. "She is a doctoral student, in her second year of her graduate studies in clinical psychology."
The husband, who, up to this point, hadn't spoken a word, perked up. "Is that right?"
You smiled, excited for the chance to talk about your passion. "Yes sir. I've still got quite a ways to go, but I love my work."
"You should be proud." The man praised, looking at Hannibal. "You've got yourself an ambitious wife."
"Oh, we're not married yet." You corrected.
"So when can we expect an invitation?" The woman asked.
"Six months from now, isn't it?" Hannibal answered. "Memorial day weekend. Then I'm taking her to Italy for a lengthy honeymoon."
The woman threw her head back and sighed. "That sounds heavenly."
"You young modern girls are always so intuitive." The man commented. "I'll bet you tricked him into marrying you."
You wanted to call this guy out for his sexist bullshit, but he wasn't far off. It was Hannibal who tricked you, though.
Technically, he proposed to you within the first six months. You just didn't know it. It took until shockingly recently to find out.
It was during a ballroom dancing lesson of all places. You were sweaty, but loved the feeling of your lover's hands gently guiding your movements. You stepped away from the lesson to get some water, and innocently asked when he would propose to you.
"I believe I already did." He said with enough conviction to blur the lines of seriousness and sarcasm.
"You pretended to." You corrected. "Remember? We were just pretending to be engaged for Anna's wedding."
"But it didn't end after the wedding, did it?" He observed. "You kept calling me your fiancé long after that weekend passed."
You paused, then threw your head back in exasperation. "Oh my god, Hannibal."
Hannibal laughed. "I told you. Someday it won't be a lie."
"You're a piece of shit, you know that?" You pressed your fingers to your temples. "So we've been engaged this whole time?"
"What can I say?" He said, gently. "I knew you were my one and only even then. It was just a matter of circumventing your inhibitions."
"I'm not complaining." You folded your arms. "But a little notice would have been nice."
"Well, if you insist." He laced his fingers between his own. "[F/N] [L/N]. Will you be my wife?"
Even though the question was truly just a formality, you were still as giddy as a schoolgirl to hear those words.
"Yes, Hannibal Lecter." You said, cheeks stinging from smiling so hard. "I will marry you."
Then you just went back to the dance lesson like nothing happened. It was shockingly in-character for both of you.
"No." You shook your head. "We killed someone together and took a blood oath to never separate."
The couple laughed. Hannibal looked down at you with pride.
“So [F/N].” The man said. “Have you given any thought to your doctoral dissertation?”
“Oh, Charles.” The woman rolled her eyes. “I’m sure she didn’t come here to be grilled about her studies.”
“No, it’s okay.” You smiled. As long as you were talking about school, you weren’t being interrogated about the thirty-year age gap between you and Hannibal. “I have been thinking about my dissertation. There are plenty of fascinating topics to choose from, but I can’t not write it about, well, the reason I began to study psychology in the first place.”
“And that is?” The man raised an eyebrow.
“Cults.” You said, grinning ear to ear. “Understanding them, their leaders, their followers, why people join them. How they evolve and grow more insidious as time passes. What form they’re starting to take in the digital age.”
“That is interesting.” The woman’s voice rose, connoting genuine engagement. “And what form are they taking in the digital age?”
You looked up at Hannibal, as if to ask for permission. Permission to rip into her and burn that bridge for good. He answered in the affirmative.
“Ma’am, could I take a look at your bracelet?” You asked, already knowing exactly what she would say.
Her face lit up. “Oh, do you like it?”
She pulled it off her wrist and handed it to you. You brought it to your nose and took a whiff, confirming your theory. Then you handed it off to Hannibal, whose sense of smell was much more refined. He took one breath, then recoiled.
Hannibal covered his mouth and nose with his hand and coughed. “That is... quite strong, Mrs. DeMarco.”
“It’s Affirm, by doTERRA.” She revealed, her voice growing defensive. “It helps you ground yourself and remember your worth.”
You handed the bracelet back to her. “Do you sell doTERRA, Mrs. DeMarco?”
“Well, now that you mention it...” A small smile appeared on her lips. “Why? Would you like to buy some?”
“I hate to be the one to tell you this, ma’am, but...” You lied. “You’re actually in a cult.”
She had nothing to say to that. She just stared at you with her mouth agape, urging you to explain yourself.
“Multilevel marketing companies employ a host of cult manipulation tactics to con people out of their savings.” You explained. “Just because the promise is financial independence instead of a spot in paradise, doesn’t mean it’s not a lie. Research conducted by the Federal Trade Commission shows that the vast majority of participants actually lose money. The statistics are just a google search away, yet thousands of people still insist on the legitimacy of the companies they sell for.”
“Well, I-” She protested, but couldn’t find the words to defend herself. “I’m there for the community, really. For the first time in years, I have a sisterhood of like-minded women who love me!”
You smiled through a cringe. “That’s another pretty common cult manipulation tactic. They appropriate familial language to make people feel more connected to the group than they really should be.”
Although you didn’t expect her to, she looked to be genuinely considering it.
“Next time you see your ‘sisters’,” You began. “Pay attention to how they talk about people who are not in the group. Or, better yet, tell them that you’re considering leaving. You’ll see how conditional their love is.”
An awkward, deafening silence followed. The woman looked at her husband, as if willing him to do something. To stand up to the evil twenty-something grad student who had the audacity to cite her sources.
Instead, the husband just burst out in riotous laughter.
“Miriam!” He nearly shouted, heaving like he was about to collapse. “I told you that oil business was up to no good! No honest company makes their employees pay to work!”
The woman’s face turned red. You almost felt bad for her. The feeling vanished when the man put his hand on your shoulder.
“Seriously, Dr. Lecter, you’d better keep this one.” He said, wiping a tear from his eye. “She’s an absolute godsend.”
“No divine intervention was involved whatsoever, Dr. DeMarco.” Hannibal smiled to himself and brought a glass of champagne to his lips. “She is a woman of her own making."
"Oh, we all know that's not entirely true." The woman snapped, slipping into passive-aggression. She glanced at Hannibal. "How much are you spending on this mouthy little know-it-all? Isn't it about $80k a year?"
You, of course, brought this on yourself. You threw down the gauntlet by going after this girlboss's side hustle, so now nothing was off-limits.
"I wouldn't worry about that, Mrs. DeMarco." Hannibal said, calmly. "My soon-to-be wife's education is a much better investment than that overpriced napalm you wear on your wrist."
You couldn't help but laugh at that. It was a laugh you shared with the man. Hannibal looked down at you, admiring how your face lit up.
"You'll forgive my wife's rudeness." The man requested. "Please, Ms. [F/N], tell me more about your dissertation."
"Well," you laced your fingers together. "I'm planning to write my dissertation on the cult of academic elitism."
"I would tread lightly, dear." The woman warned, eyes darting to Hannibal. "You wouldn't want to bite the hand that feeds you."
You adjusted your stole, giving them a quick glance at the love bites along your neck.
"I assure you." You said. "He quite likes it when I bite."
Your clutch started to aggressively, audibly vibrate. You could have sworn you'd put your phone on silent, but it buzzed nonetheless.
"Probably just, y'know-" you stuttered, embarrassed. "An amber alert or something."
"We are expecting a snowstorm, I believe. I was warned of it a few minutes ago." Hannibal said, always ready to cover your ass whenever needed. The couple nodded along in understanding.
You pulled your phone from your clutch. Your eyes widened and your face turned sickly pale at the sight of a caller you thought you’d never hear from again. Without thinking, you slid the deny icon across the screen.
“Right.” You said, tucking your phone and your secrets back into the clutch. “Winter Storm... Theresa is headed this way.”
Hannibal cleared his throat. “In that case, [F/N] and I must take our leave before we get snowed in. It was very nice catching up with you. I will see to it that [F/N] and I have you for dinner very soon.”
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