#and that brings up SO MANY FUCKING QUESTIONS???
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Off*IZ: Like It Like I Love It
Soloist Jo Yuri & Male Reader
Categories/warnings: smut, doggy, semi-public, semi-mirror, semi-exhibitionist, office sex, clothed sex, sweat if it counts?, standing doggy, anal, anal creampie, little bit of thigh stuff I think
Word count: 4.2k
Part of Off*IZ Hours
a/n: i worked on so many other drafts on and off this month i really wasnt sure if I'd be able to pull something off this month but we back to our regular programming LMAO :DDDD
“Thank you, everyone. I know we took longer than we should have,” the project head places his glasses on his forehead before rubbing his eyes, “but we pulled through today. Good work.” All around the conference table, you and your coworkers stretch in various ways and groans emanate from random people in the room. As people start to get up and leave, you overhear muttering about plans after work and what each other’s weekends will be like.
You do your own stretches and check your watch: 7:54 p.m., nearly three hours later than you should have left. A sigh escapes you, finding yourself already tired from dealing with the lowlife drunks on the bus you’ll be riding with in about half an hour. You grasp around in the dark for a bright side to all of this, but nothing’s coming up so far, except...
“Hey, heading out?” Miss Jo taps you on your shoulder a bit roughly: not enough to hurt, but enough to shove you a little. She stands behind you, her fingers delicately wrapped around the edge of her folder, and a smile painting her cute face. Over the course of your tenure in the company, as well as the fact that the Operational Support Department is only two people strong, you and your boss have gotten to know each other very well.
“Maybe you wanna have a drink with me? God knows we both need it,” she giggles. The petite woman abruptly shuts her eyes solemnly and sucks air in through her teeth, then releases it in a drawn-out yawn. She blinks out the sleep in her eyes before attempting to look at you again.
“Are you sure? You seem a bit tired.” You spin her around to face away from you and place your hands on her shoulders. You push your thumbs firmly and massage the spot in the middle of her back, and tell her, “Breathe, Miss Jo.”
Her head lolls back, showing you a dimly glowing smile and fluffy cheeks underneath a pair of half-lidded eyes. She breathes out slowly through her mouth, her lips parted ever so slightly, and good thing everyone’s already left the conference room at this point, else they’d start asking questions.
“Maybe I am tired…” she breathes out slowly, only loud enough for you and no one else to hear. As you listen, your hands travel down her slim arms and onto her waist, and as she tilts her head to the side, you plant a kiss right on her neck. “Maybe… maybe I do want to go home,” her moan comes carefully, as if fighting back a mountain of urges. “Maybe I want to, I don’t know, take a shower?” Your hands slide up her sides, cupping her petite boobs through her top. She giggles again, she brings her hands to yours.
“And no more ‘Miss Jo,’ please. We're done for the day, remember?” She pulls your hands off her, winking, before hurriedly dragging you out of the conference room. Her steps are joyful and frantic towards the parking lot with you still in tow. She never looks back, one clear goal in mind: get you home, take her shower, get fucked out. A perfect Friday night, like God intended.
She’s so focused that she fails to notice until it’s too late that you yank her into a secluded printing room, lock the door, and forget to turn on the light. She stumbles into your chest, and the dim reflections of nightlife from outside the window are the only things that let you see the fire in her eyes.
Yuri wraps her arms around your neck, trapping you in a torrid kiss as your tongues dance around each other, swapping spit and breathy moans. Her lips are soft on yours, with hints of strawberry from her lip balm that only make you want her more.
Hook her leg under your arm, grip her ass through her jeans, grind her crotch against yours. All she can do at this point is hold on to you for dear life as your kiss continues, never giving her the privilege of catching her breath. In spite of all this, her nerve to fight back surfaces: her tongue enters your mouth and licks everywhere she can reach, and she shamelessly lets her spit leak from her luscious lips and onto her chin.
At this point the heat gets to both of you, not only from each other but also from the general lack of air-conditioning in the room this late into the night. Sweat collects into bigger and bigger drops on her neck, and your determination to steal every single one overtakes you. You kiss and lick over every spot of exposed and vulnerable skin you can find, and it messes with her head somehow even more than forcing kisses on her ever did.
A bright idea enters your head though, and not so gently, you shove and pin her to a nearby wall. A deep thud rings across the room, followed by a slight creak and groan from the wood holding up the wall inside it. The impact forces air out her lungs, but ultimately she regains her breath and stares at you, shellshocked, before releasing her grip on you.
“Don’t forget, asshole,” she grunts, playing trying to get free, “I'm still your fucking boss.” Yuri almost slams her face into yours, sorely missing the feeling of your lips on hers. Her tongue travels all over inside your mouth, and what can you do but show her the same sort of fervor?
“I'm also still fucking my boss,” you choke out, still struggling against the onslaught of Yuri's tongue. All the while, her needy moans fill the room with every single hump on her crotch. She tries speeding it up, but with how you're holding her ass, you're fully in control.
And she fucking loves it.
With one hand keeping you in place, her other hand works on stripping herself of her jeans. Your position gradually gets more awkward, but the moment her pants leave her ass and you feel up her cheeks, now only covered with a pair of thin lace panties, your hunger for your boss's delicious body only grows.
Her pants drop to around her ankles and suddenly they're gone from her world. Yuri's next target is your slacks, and she makes even quicker work of them. It takes just the blink of an eye before they're gone too, and she’s alternating between palming your stiffening cock and massaging your balls through your underwear.
“I didn't know I was this tired,” she remarked, her breath unstable against your mouth. Her head rests against the wall, her arms on your shoulders, and you finally let her catch her breath. “Oh, by the way,” she wheezes between deep inhales, “we’re setting up the laptops for the new hires tomorrow– I need you to come in at 8.”
“Come in here? Like ‘office’ here? Tomorrow’s Saturday,” you say, mixing into your voice a tone of sternness. You caress her cheek, and she nuzzles into your palm. She knows exactly what’s coming up next, but she waits for you to let her. It has to be you, you both know it, so as your hand meets her shoulder and pushes her down, she falls slowly, gracefully, to her knees.
Eye level with your bulge, she runs her tongue along her lips seductively while looking up at you. Her fingers slip under the waistband of your underwear and she pulls down slowly, teasing you when she knows she shouldn’t. Your cock springs up and nearly misses her chin, but she makes a show of catching it with her face. She smiles up at you, your cock resting on her beautiful features, all the while she peppers light kisses along the underside of your shaft.
“Yeah, 8 a.m. tomorrow. We’re setting up VPNs and loading all the shit onto them.” Her kisses soon turn into licks, as if she’s made it her mission in life to trace every single one of your cock’s veins using her tongue. Her eyes flutter closed as she relishes in the taste and scent of your manhood, hellbent on worshiping it like the slut she knows she is.
“Fine, but I’m spending the night at yours. Make me come into work on a weekend, feed me breakfast.”
“Fine, but you’re driving tomorrow. Can’t do it if my legs don’t work.”
She retreats back for a bit, lining up your cock with her mouth as she eyes it with a lustful greed. She comes in close again, and her tongue swirls around the tip of your cock as she slowly takes more and more in. Her lips seal around your shaft, sucking it like it’s the feast of her lifetime.
Take advantage of her position, guide her head to rest against the wall. She almost doesn’t notice, but the moment she does, her eyes meet yours to send a single, unmistakeable, desperate message: “Please.”
You plunge your cock deep into her mouth, using the wall behind her to force her to take as much of your length as she can. She chokes and gags, but ultimately her tongue never leaves the underside of your dick and chooses instead to use the copious amounts of spit to make her blowjob all the more pleasurable for you. Yuri’s cheeks hollow out as she tries sucking your soul out, and only then are you made aware of the lewd slurping sounds she’s making. Her adoration of your cock makes itself known like it always does, and you wonder for a split second how lucky you came to be to have such a nice boss.
She pushes herself off of you with a loud pop, and you find her hair unkempt and sticking to her forehead in strands, licking her lips like she’s just had the best meal of her life. She flashes a smile at you before getting up, and what comes next feels like the most natural thing for the two of you. She gets up and pulls you by the necktie toward the window, you’ve always known she was this type of girl, and she places both palms on the glass.
“You know what to do.” Her voice is deep and serious, and you're compelled to obey. Your fingers slip under the waistband of her panties, and you pull down to reveal her plump ass. The wet feeling running down Yuri's legs makes her moan quietly, and as the fabric leaves her body you see her thighs glisten with slick and perspiration, reflecting the clueless city's lights.
Your hands travel up her thighs, and you feel her goosebumps under your touch. Now standing behind her, you take in the situation: your boss is bent over, presenting her bare ass and dripping pussy to you, while her hands are splayed onto the cool, transparent glass of the printing room window. Place your hands on her hips, grip securely and show her how bad you want her. Pull her slowly towards you, and as you do, find her looking back at you with unbridled lust in her gaze.
The tip of your cock meets her sinful entrance, and her gaze remains steady and burning on you. “Come on already,” she taunts seductively. She bites her lip in anticipation and you decide not to make her wait any longer.
You rub your hard cock on her pussy lips, coating your shaft with her juices, before finally plunging yourself into her. Her lips part for you, and as you push deeper into her wet cavern she lets out a low, guttural moan. Her reflection in the glass shows you her eyes are shut tight and tighter still as she feels you slowly filling up her pussy, and her fingers flex against the glass as she tries to find something, anything, to hold onto.
“Fuck– God, the first one is always the best, huh?” A casual laugh follows her statement, and she looks back at you again. A tiny smile decorates the corners of her mouth, and the odd lighting around you gives her an aura of mysterious, forbidden beauty.
“Will you behave for me, Yuri?” You rub and grope her ass as you say it, threatening a spank. It doesn't help though, you know your boss loves being put in her place. The thought you implant into her head causes her pussy to quiver, and in turn causes your cock to twitch against her walls.
“Oh my go– Yes, daddy,” she surrenders, “I'll be your good baby girl.” She lets her head hang forward, having completely given up control to you, all primed and ready to receive your blessing. Her breaths are deep, slow, ragged, choosing instead to focus solely on the onslaught of pleasure you're about to inflict on her tight, delicious, fertile body.
Thrust into her again, as deep as her cunt lets you, and your tip kisses the entrance of her womb. She lurches slightly forward with a grunt, and you almost swear her pussy is made just for you. The way her walls clench around your cock as it twitches again and again inside her makes you think you’re the key to her lock, a match made in hell.
“Daddy, do I feel good? Do you like my pussy?” Yuri’s moans and pleas for your approval only spur you on. She melts under your touch, your hand returning to her ass and threatening her pleasure again. It’s about time you give her what she wants, and she has been a good girl so far, so why the fuck not?
You raise your palm and she watches, her eyes trailing higher and higher. All at once, you bring your hand down with the force and speed Yuri knows is perfect, what she knows she deserves. Your skin meets hers and a slap rings clear across the room, followed by an immoral moan escaping from her throat.
“Fuck, daddy! It hurts so good–” she gasps, all the while you maintain a slow pace. Your thrusts in her are rhythmic and steady, but in no way soft or merciful. With every pump of pleasure you deliver into her body from behind, she lurches forward again and again, absolutely no time at all to recover with the cumulative brain fog clouding her thoughts, all the while her tight little pussy clenches and squeezes your cock like it’s the last time she’ll ever have you.
Keep fucking her deep and rough, keep forcing your will onto her body. She submits wholeheartedly to you, pushing her ass back on you each time you shove your cock into her, trying to steal more mind-numbing goodness from you. As if having lost control of her voice, her moans are continuous if not for her need to breathe every once in a while. On one hand, you know her body well, and it’s telling you that she’s growing impatient – she signed up for a railing after all. On the other hand, so what? It’s your fucktoy to use however you want to.
Yank her hair back, pull her right up against your chest. One hand on her toned tummy, the other wrapped around her slender, sweaty neck. Her own hands stay respectfully splayed on the glass, and she’s damn near defenseless like this: she wouldn’t dare defy you in any way. Whisper right into her ear, teasingly and tauntingly, “Until what time do we stay tomorrow?”
She chokes back a sob, only half-successful, only half-focused. “N-not later than one th-thirty,” she struggles, on the verge of tears, “only eighte-teen unitssss…” She sucks as much air as she can through her teeth, your slow and methodical onslaught on her sex unrelenting. “We… we…” Her brain fog must be so thick right now, having finally lost the ability to form complete thoughts. It’s now you know there’s nothing left of her except the desire for more of her ecstasy, just the way you like her.
All at once, thrust fast and thrust hard. It’s something she couldn’t have possibly predicted, and her surprise numbs her entire body save for her pussy that convulses violently around your cock. Her velvet walls squeeze and massage your entire length, and her love juices coat your shaft before the rest make its way down her creamy, jiggling thighs. She screams loud as her face is smushed against the glass, her arms pinned against the window pane for as much support as she can get. Each following thrust into her pushes her up and up against the glass even more, until there’s no more space between her and the window, nor between you and her.
Completely victim to you, her eyes wander up and up until they point to the ceiling. Her mouth hangs open as her breath fogs up the glass, still punctuated with rhythmic grunts each time your tip kisses the entrance of her womb.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” she repeats with every thrust, rubbing her face slightly more against the window. If only she could still fathom how easily someone could look up and see her taking your dick, but that's not important now. Her eyes are rolled to the back of her head, her breathing is unsteady, and the flex of her fingers tells you again that she's close.
Deny her climax just a little more, you're sure she'll understand. Just as you push back into her, eliciting her next crass word, you forcefully pull out of her heat. She tightens impossibly hard again in an effort to keep you inside her, but the sheer amount of her slick fails her. A few seconds pass and she's able to look down, and the sight of your thick and hard cock between her thighs and right up against her pussy does something to her head. It's exactly when her tongue peeks from her mouth and runs all over her lips that you know she's desperate, reduced to nothing more than a simple-minded slut who wants you and you alone.
“I'm gonna take your ass, baby girl, and you're gonna fucking like it.” Your words are gentle yet daunting against her eardrums, and her pussy lips quiver against your cock again as she jerks her hips forward exactly once and releases the perfect amount of her juices onto your dick. “Yes, daddy…” she replies, holding back her orgasm for a few more moments, knowing that you like it best when she cums while you’re inside her.
Yuri waits in anticipation as you poke her asshole with your cock. Her eyes draw shut, head leaning solemnly on the glass, as if praying that she survives the rough anal fucking she's about to receive.
Since when did you get so mean? Making a lady wait like this. And yet, the way she squirms in depraved pleasure under the constant threat of your cock is just so delicious, you really can't help but use her, play with her like this.
Having had your fill of teasing her, you give her exactly what she wants. You enter her puckered hole slowly, and yet she takes you in like the good girl she always aims to be. The walls of her ass are just as pleasurable as her pussy, and her tightness in her back entrance is just as perfect as her cunt. The slick coating your cock is her only saving grace against having her asshole torn apart, but with the way she clenches around you so well and how she groans in ecstasy, you think maybe she wouldn’t mind either way.
Your boss half-screams as you invade her repeatedly from behind, starting slow and steady while tears start to form in the corners of her eyes. Her sweaty cheek still on the window, you watch as a line of spit runs from her lip down the pane, just as a drunkard wobbling across the sidewalk in the street down below finally catches you two in the act. It seems he's still figuring out what he's seeing, so you have just a few more moments left in the printing room before the dots connect in his head.
“G–guh,” Yuri grunts as she taps against the glass. It seems she spotted him too, and is trying to warn you of the same. “It doesn't matter, baby, I'll take care of it.” Your reassurance works a bit too well, and her eyes shut again as she breathes out and relaxes.
Stay true to your promise, make sure she gets a hell of a taste of the night she’s only about to have. Quickly, carelessly, ruthlessly, piston deep into her asshole. Her walls try their hardest to accommodate you, but ultimately lose the fight and are forced apart anyway.
“Aaahhhh– AAAAHHHHHHHH!!!” Yuri’s heavenly voice is corrupted to sing a perverted symphony. She’s reduced again, from your boss to your personal slut to now just some instrument for your unholy pleasure. Each thrust into her ass sends her riding up the window again, smearing her spit and perspiration all over the glass and her slick all over her creamy thighs. You shoot a cursory look back to the drunk on the street, noticing his eyes widening as his fried brain starts its search for words. You’re running out of time.
Pound her mercilessly, remind her of her place in your own shared little world. All it takes is just a few more thrusts into her hole until she finally lets it all loose. Your moans mix with hers in the secluded space, and her willingness to serve you brings you ever closer to the edge.
Just as the drunkard figures out how to point up and mumble his most basic words, you explode right into your boss, filling her plump ass up with your thick and hot seed. A shameless scream rips across her throat, “FUCKKKKK!!!” and her ass tightens around your cock like she owes her life to you, hell-bent on repaying her debt in kind tenfold. Streams of her own cum squirt out of her in jets, splattering on the wall and all over her crotch and thighs. She bucks her hips again and again, having lost any semblance of control over her body and mind, each spurt of your baby batter pushing itself into her body simultaneously pushing another of the already very scarce thoughts out of her head. What’s worse is it keeps coming, the realization dawning on you just as her ass overflows and your cum starts running down her legs, that your desire and output were heightened severely by how pent-up the both of you were.
You pull Yuri down and duck to the floor right as the drunk finally musters enough of his wits together to point and scream. You hear him from the ground, and as far as you can tell he’s there on the street pointing up at an empty window and gathering weird looks from the other passers-by. All the while, you’ve just finished pumping your boss full of cum while she’s still squirming and jerking weakly as her own climax dies down.
The room once filled with moans and grunts is now silent save for your combined heavy breathing. The heat once again makes itself known to the both of you, best evidenced by her sweat pooling on the ground where her head lay. Pulling out of her, more of your cum flows out of her ass, deepening Yuri’s breathing as she tries wiping more sweat off her brow.
“You good?” Your question is far too innocent for what the two of you just did. All she can do in response is to nod slightly, and maybe offer a drained but satisfied smile. Confirming her condition, you lean over and kiss her on the cheek before lying back down next to her, giving yourself a moment as well to catch your own breath.
Yuri turns and places her head on your chest, rising and falling with your breathing. She feels your heartbeat and synchronizes her breathing with it, grateful for some semblance of structure back into her life, but at the same time her dependence on you grows yet again, just like she loves it.
“We can maybe do breakfast muffins tomorrow on the way, no time to cook and all.” You wrap your arm around her and secure her in a cozy embrace. The floor is much cooler than the air in the higher altitudes of the enclosed space you two occupy, and the situation threatens to steal you off to slumber.
Yuri manages a nod and a mumble and a kiss on your neck. She pushes herself off the floor, yawns, and stretches. “Do you wanna just come in Sunday instead? Stay the weekend with me?” she asks earnestly, crawling to your discarded clothes to retrieve. She hands you yours, and as she does you plant a wet kiss on her lips.
“As if being here on Sunday is better than Saturday.”
“Literally nobody's here on Sunday. We can turn up the aircons.” Your boss nuzzles into your neck again, evidently still addicted to your essence. Her afterglow and the low lights only enhance her beauty to near-godlike levels, and it works perfectly to her advantage.
“Fine. But your ass is mine all weekend.”
She giggles, “Fine, as if it isn't already.”
~~~
a/n: for everyone who reads this far look forward to more off*iz from our other very lovely writers!
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Omg, imagine like, you and wanda together, in college, you have this test you have to study for, but your really struggling, but wanda decides to be a nice mommy and sits you on her lap as you have your stuff infront of you, shes trying to teach your dumb slutty brain but its not working so she pulls her strap out and makes you cockwarm it and says something like ”if you get a question right, youll be allowed to move, but only for a little” and like keeps your hips steady as the both of you study. You do this until you feel like you know everythign and she decides to give you a reward by pounding you into the table and makes you cum as many times as you want 😋
- 🕸️ (im trying to study right now, why is math so hard? 😔 my dumb mutt brain just cant understand it)
Oh i would NOT be able to study after that omg that would backfire bc I would just be all fuzzy brained and begging her to fuck me...
I am thinking THOUGHTS tho about this concept
"Focus, baby."
The words are mumbled against your neck as Wanda softly kisses it, her arms wrapped around your hips, holding you still. You fight the urge to grind down, her strap buried inside you, your arousal leaking around it.
You whine slightly, her vanilla scent pulling you further into that fuzzy headspace you find yourself in whenever she's around you. You attempt to focus, numbers seemingly floating off the page as you grip your pencil.
"Answer the question, sweetheart. If you get it right, Mommy will let you fuck yourself on her strap for a few seconds." Wanda says, and you feel her smiling against your neck.
Nodding, you try and ignore her as her tongue begins making a trail up your neck. Your pencil shakes in your grasp as you begin to work out the problem, mind bouncing between the math in front of you, and the woman holding you.
You're acutely aware of the thick strap moving slightly inside you as Wanda adjusts her grip, and you breathe in deeply. You're almost done with the problem, just a few... more... numbers.
"Got it!" You exclaim, twisting to look at Wanda as she studies the problem in front of her.
"Good job, darling." She turns towards you, green eyes shining. You glance down, her lips inches from yours. You want to taste her. Leaning in, you press your lips against her soft ones, a moan escaping her as she slides her lips against yours.
"Go on," She mumbles into the kiss, "Fuck yourself for me."
You whimper, relief flooding you as she helps you move your hips. You fuck yourself slowly, pleasure igniting deep inside you as you move yourself up and down on her strap. You can feel your wetness smearing over your inner thighs and on Wanda's lap, but can't bring yourself to care too much.
God, it feels so... fucking... good...
"Stop."
You still at the command, breaths shaky as you fight the urge to move your hips. The strap is once against buried inside you, and your pleasure dims to a low simmer.
Wanda's lips are back on your neck, and you groan at the sensation. She chuckles, "Next problem baby. We're going to keep playing this little game until you've finished all your work."
---
I need someone to do this to me ugh it would keep me motivated and also fuzzy brained so its a two-for-one deal tbh
#charsgaythoughts#wanda maximoff#mommy wanda#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda x reader#wanda#wanda maximoff x you#wanda maximoff x female reader#wanda maximoff fanfiction#wanda fanfic#wanda maximoff smut#wanda x you#wanda x y/n#dom!wanda#top!wanda#marvel#mcu#wanda marvel#wanda mcu#wanda maximommy#wlw#wlw smut#lesbian#writing#bottom reader#x reader
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It's here after many weeks, the 10k one-shot to celebrate 200 followers, but I suppose it's also to celebrate 300 followers as well! I meant for 300 to be a different celebration but that's okay! I'm sure I'll make something else for the next milestone!
Requested Tags: @dutifullylazybread @heytheresunflower @barbwillbrb
Rolan/GN!Tav
I Shouldn't Love You Like You Are Mine
Rolan has too much to do with so little time. Becoming the new Master of Ramazith's tower is proving more complicated than the wizard have ever thought. On top of it all, he has a deep infatuation with Tav, the hero who saved him and his family many times. He knows he has no chance with them, so he has settled on hopelessly pining and dreaming. One day, Tav rushes into the shop in a panic, and he could have never in his wildest fantasies expect what they request of him.
Word Count: 10k (Don't like Tumblr? Read on AO3 instead!)
Relevant Tags: Rolan's POV, Makeout Diversion, Smut, Lorroakan Bashing
Beta Reader: @el-tur-el (Thank you so much for your help T!!!)
NSFW under cut, Minors DNI
The air is stale, the scent of electricity still strong in the space that surrounds him, the taste of blood on his tongue from when his sharp teeth gashed the inside of his mouth. He's sore, bruised, burned, somewhat electrocuted by the way some of his muscles spasm still, but he's alive. Tav is long gone with their companions, and all that is left is him and a dead man.
When staring down at the body of his spine-broken master, Rolan is not sure of how he's supposed to feel. At first, he felt a genuine joy that he had not felt in many years. The adrenaline was still high at the time, and he proudly remarked that he would turn the tower inside out to find its secrets and share them with the world. He always has been ambitious, that is what got him this far, after all. Tav seems happy for him, and he ignores how it made his heart pound even more.
As he stands alone in the room, he questions whether he's supposed to feel something now that the joy has faded within the span of minutes. Some kind of liberation? Or perhaps his emotions are fighting each other in his psyche, making him feel everything and nothing all at once. The man who tortured him, who beat him like he was a misbehaving dog he didn't even want, who refused to teach him anything about wielding the weave, lays dead by his feet. He can't help but think that he looks pathetic now, face twisted in permanent fear even after death.
He spits on his face as a final 'fuck you'. He hopes he rots in the deepest pits of the hells that he was once dragged to.
Running his stiff hands down his face, he tries to think of what to do first. He has to get rid of this body, it can't stay here lying around. It will decay and stink more than Lorroakan already has. Grabbing a fistful of the dead man's hair, he drags his body towards the balcony. He could throw his body over the railing, it would be insult to injury, but no. He will do something much worse.
He digs into the stray backpack at the edge of the railing and takes out a disintegration scroll, one that he knew Lorroakan hid out here as a backup plan in case a fight doesn't go his way. Without thinking too much on it, he casts the spell on the body, and Lorroakan disappears into ash.
His former teacher was now erased, made into nothing, and no one will remember or miss him. A fate worse than death, in Rolan's opinion.
Almost numbly, he heads back inside the main room and tries to find cleaning supplies. There's so much blood on the floor, and it did not help he made a trail while dragging the body. He wishes Tav was still here so he could demand they clean their mess up, where he wouldn't notice his tail flicking back and forth in irritation. Would they bother listening to him? Maybe not, but at least they would be there, just a little longer. Just enough time for him to pine once more.
Lia is right, he's a very selfish creature.
A couple of mage hands bring a bucket of water and an unused mop over. He is taken aback, as he thought they would have disappeared in Lorroakan's absence. Although, these could have been Ramazith's, wherever that wizard is now. It doesn't matter, either way. They're his now.
He dunks the mop into the water and starts swiping across the floor, noticing how as he cleans, the white cloth of the strands turn red. There's so much godsdamned blood, it will take him forever to clear the mess. There's a lot of blood on him, too. Specks and splatters of blood paint his hands crimson, long dried onto his red skin. His mentor's blood. Lorroakan's blood.
He helped murder a man, today. He killed someone. His blood is on his hands as much as it may be on the Nightsong's. Or Tav's.
An unsuspected shudder runs through his body, and he feels sick. He chalks it up to his adrenaline rush going down too quickly, ignoring the feeling as he swipes the mop across the floor.
The hairs on his neck stand on end as he feels the crackle of the weave, warning him someone is coming through the portal. Part of him hopes it would be Tav; he wants to talk to them again. Maybe they can help him with the cleanup, laughing about how they left him here without realizing it. He would stumble over his words like a fool, trying to be impressive in his pathetic state.
It's not Tav that arrives though, he recognizes Lia's quick footsteps anywhere. She's always been the fastest between him and Cal; they both could never beat her in a race, but he swears he lets her win.
"Rolan!" She shouts, quickly coming up to him along with Cal, whose heavier footsteps are right behind hers. "Finally! You kept talking up this tower and now we get to see it-"
"Wait, is that blood?" Cal immediately interrupts, face falling.
He must look horrendous, Rolan realizes. He got so busy cleaning the floor that he didn't even bother washing up first. Based on when he looked at himself that morning, the bruises should still be very prominent. Shit.
Lia bristles when she cups his face, looking at his injuries. "What is this?"
The silence that falls between them is telling. He knows she figured it out a long time ago, but she wants to hear him say it. "I'm fine, Lia. He was a horrible mentor, but it's not my blood on the ground."
"Tav told us they helped you kick his ass." Cal comments, trying to lighten their moods, "Looks like you did just that if this blood isn't yours."
"You should've killed him earlier, idiot!" She spits.
"I know, I know." He mutters, trying to speak even as Lia turns his face around to see the damage. "It's good to see you two."
"We missed you, brother," Cal says, gently moving Lia away and hugging him. "Please don't do that again. It was hard, without you."
Rolan lets out a sigh he didn't know he was holding, hugging Cal tightly. Lia joins in quickly after. When was the last time they held each other like this? He doesn't remember.
It feels nice.
While it doesn't last long, it is more than satisfactory for him. They help him with the clean up, Lia helping with the blood while Cal sweeps the floor with a broom. They take on more workload than Rolan wants, but he can't argue with them when they practically plead for him to rest. To be honest, he's unbelievably sore, and maybe sitting down for a bit wouldn't hurt.
It only takes his body a few minutes until it's antsy again, so he joins them quickly after.
And then he never stops moving.
He cleans, reorganizes, and keeps walking despite his beaten body screaming at him to stop. He can't stop, because if he does, he knows he will not want to get back up. He'll crash, and he can't afford that.
At the end of it all, he enters Lorroakan's room without thinking and is frozen in place. He's been in here before, but never for good reasons, only beatings. Is this not his room now that the original master is gone? But it reeks of his old mentors stench. He scrunches his nose as he looks at all the personalized decorations. They're hideous, all of the colors too bright to stare at, and most not matching with each other in terms of palette. There's not even a real theme and it makes him irate.
He remembers being beaten on this very floor for messing up a verbal component.
Enraged, he marches up to the bed and tears off the sheets, making a point to dig his claws into them so they would rip. The pillows are next, tossing them across the room and onto the floor. He'll need to replace every damn thing if he wants to use this bed. To use this room.
Unwanted memories start to flood into his mind as he tears the place apart, most of them being on the ground, where Lorroakan said he belonged. Beaten, burned, electrocuted, sometimes poisoned. A place where he was at his most pathetic. He often has nightmares about those late nights, but some of the worst ones were Tav walking in and seeing him like that, utterly broken on floor. They would never see him the same, and he doesn't know whether he prefers them to be disgusted by him or to feel pity.
He's close to a breakdown, having trouble getting air into his lungs before Cal and Lia comes in. "Rolan?"
With a slow sigh, he turns to look at them. "Why are you two up?"
Lia's eyes trail around the destroyed room, seeming to note the claw marks on the bed sheets discarded on the carpet. "Couldn't sleep." She says simply, giving a knowing look.
"Can we sleep with you?" Cal asks, rubbing the back of his neck, "Like when we were kids? Just for one night."
His jaw moves to start a pointless argument, but then snaps shut. They're both not children anymore, they can sleep by themselves. He can sleep by himself. However, he cannot deny that he craves the affection it would bring. He hasn't been this long without them, no matter how much he complained about them being clingy before.
"All right." He says quietly after taking a deep breath, "Not in here, though. Come."
He quietly leads them to the comparatively bland room Lorroakan gave him in Sorcerous Sundries. It isn't terrible, but he realizes that the bed is way too small for the three of them. Thankfully, he had a remedy. He adjusts an enlarge spell and makes the bed wider, and they all settle down on top of it easily.
Lia makes him stay in the middle while she settles on his right side, Cal climbing over carefully to lay on his left. Honestly, he misses having them so close.
"Rolan?" Cal speaks up as Lia pulls up the blanket.
"Hm?"
"Can you make a light show for a little bit?"
Rolan can't help but smile, slowly closing his eyes before opening them up again and raising his hands. "Any requests?"
"Make it look like flowers blooming." Lia says instantly, draping an arm around his middle.
He huffs before murmuring a few words, a burst of colors appearing in the air. Like asked, they take form of flowers blooming, petals falling near them gently. It's gorgeous.
It fades after a minute though, the exhaustion finally catching up to him as he falls asleep. If Cal and Lia were bothered by it not lasting, they don’t say a word.
For the first time in years, his night is not plagued by nightmares.
---
As soon as he wakes, Rolan does not stop moving.
He's the new master of Ramazith's tower, there is so much to do with so little time. The Absolute's army is on its way and he needs to gather everything he can to protect his siblings, and to protect Tav.
Tav doesn't need protecting, he knows that all too well, but he needs to do something. Anything at all. He needs to prepare the arcane cannon, but there is so much research to be done. On top of it all, he wants to be able to focus on his studies, but then run a shop at the same time.
He barely eats the toasted bread he haphazardly made for himself, too distracted by the logs Lorroakan left behind. There's so many customers he needs to take care of, including deliveries. Maybe he could repurpose the animated armor to make the deliveries, but that could be shaky as they're unstable. Well, Lorroakan's magic was always weakly done...he could rework the sigils. He'll have to rework everything in this place, actually.
Gods, everything is such a fucking mess. He knows he needs help, but respectfully, he wants everything a certain way and his siblings won't be able to give him what he wants. Tav would be able to understand-
He stops reading, surprising himself with his thought. Tav? Why would he think Tav would know how he likes things? It's ridiculous. But he can imagine it, them carrying books around with whatever means and placing them in alphabetical order, then by subject. They would tease him about being so stingy with what books go where on the bookshelf.
And they would laugh. Not quite at him, but laugh nonetheless. It's such a perfect sound in his ears, and the thought of it makes the tip of his tail flick about. Damn it all!
He's been thinking about them a lot, unfortunately. Ever since the Shadow Cursed Lands, where they succeeded in saving his siblings where he could not, an infatuation began to settle in his heart. He had half the mind to possibly confess, but immediately pushed it out of his mind. There was no possible way they would feel the same. He's too bitter, too arrogant, and he saw the way they looked at Gale, someone who is much more accomplished than he is. It is a fondness that he never received once in his life, and certainly not by them. He was jealous of it, but jealousy is an ugly little trait to have, so he gave up on dwelling.
The feelings never went away, no matter how much he wants them too.
He wants to say more to them, especially after they saved his sorry tail again during the fight up in the tower. They left before he could, he was too dazed staring at the mess the Nightsong made of his former master. He regrets being too out of it to say anything proper.
What would he have told them anyways? He doubts anything worthwhile. Probably a weak apology and an even weaker attempt to express his feelings. In the end, they would reject him, no doubt. He messed up too many times, back in the Shadow Cursed Lands, even if they accepted his apology for lashing out.
So he continues on and tries to forget, organizing the scrolls at the front counter of Sorcerous Sundries. His nose scrunches in irritation at the disorganization of it all. Was Lorroakan always like this? They aren't even categorized in the right sections, its horrendous. Diabolical. A sin on this shop.
Frustration straining his brow, he lays them flat on the counter to decipher where they should go, ignoring the ache that sits subtly in his bones. He hasn't had the chance to heal himself, so the bruises are still very prominent. It doesn't matter, he can take care of it later.
He knows deep in his heart that later will never come.
In the middle of his thought, one of the front doors burst open. Someone runs in and...well, he doesn't recognize them, but he does see the illusion aura that surrounds their figure. He's about to yell at them about their audacity, but their disguise instantly fades when they close.
It's Tav, in all of their wonderful glory.
"Tav?" He asks dumbly as they rush the to the counter.
They urgently hop over the counter and grab his wrist, and he actively has to suppress a wince by the force. "I need help. Hurry!"
Without a chance of responding, they drag him along towards one of the rooms along the side of the shop. They practically throw him in there.
The door slam briefly echoes in the room, and he barely has time to react before the back of his thighs meet the desk inside. He hisses, the bruises still fresh, “What in the hells are you doing?”
“I need a diversion. I was disguised but the Flaming Fist followed me.” They state, starting to open up the front of their tunic to make a mess. “Let me kiss you.”
He hates how the tip of his tail stands at attention, and thank the gods they don’t notice it. “What.”
“We’re kissing. Now. Just-“ They groan, loosening their shirt more to make themselves look like a mess. “-I need to make it look like I was busy. Rolan, please?”
He should say no. Everything is screaming at him to say no. But he is a weak man, and he’s dreamed that he could have them in his arms. Or be in their arms, it didn’t matter to him.
As soon as he gives a nod, they grab the front of his collar and pull him in, kiss searing. It takes everything in his being not to moan at the contact, especially when they loosen his hair properly to make it fall past his ears. They don’t touch them, much to his relief.
Pretending to put on the same act as them, he presses into them enthusiastically, letting their tongue in when it pries at his teeth. He fell out of control so quickly that he doesn’t know how to pick himself back up. He had half the mind to let them have their way with him. Blood rushes down south when their hand slides up his clothed stomach, sweat beading on the back of his neck as the muscles tense and quiver. Their touch was firm, demanding, and the voice in his head screams at him to not deny them for a moment. How long has he been waiting for something like this to happen?
Before he could panic about his dick twitching in interest at their ministrations, the door flies open. It startles Tav enough to where they bite his lip on accident, making him jolt.
A group of Flaming Fist freeze at the door, taking in the scene before them.
Rolan reacts quickly with his typical sneer, sitting up straighter and trying to ignore Tav being between his legs. “Do you mind?”
“Well, sir-“ One starts but the other, a commander most likely, cuts them off.
“There’s a suspected thief that we believe ran into here.”
“So you decided to almost break down one of my doors?” He questions, making a show of magic to fix his hair up. Tav moves away with their arms crossed in front of their chest, looking annoyed.
“We apologize, sir, but this thief is-“
"Excuse me?" Tav states, putting on an offended face. "How dare you! I am not a thief! I've been in this shop for a while now, unless you are accusing me of stealing from here?"
Rolan comes in before the Commander starts to retort. “My partner, no, my associate could not have been a ‘thief’ as they have been here with me for the past fifteen minutes. And this chase happened how long ago now?”
One of the other Flaming Fists glances up at the clock in the room. “…Five minutes.“
The man to their right smacks them upside the head.
“And what did they look like?” Rolan continues.
“A pale half-orc, short hair with a blue blouse, but-“
He raises a hand to silence them, as if they were misbehaving children. “Then I believe we are done here, as my associate is wearing nothing of the sort and does not look like what you described. Now, unless you are here to buy something or set a donation for the rebuilding fund of the shop, you will kindly leave the premises of Sorcerous Sundries this instant. I expect a formal apology by the end of this week.”
In all honesty, it's funny how lost these Flaming Fist look. They seem unsure of what to do. As Tav scoffs and looks away, it seems as though they're trying not to laugh. He has to fight the smile that's teasing the corners of his mouth, staring at all the blustering Fists as they figure out what to do. Reluctantly, frustrated and angry, they exit out of the office and leave the shop with their tail in between their legs.
He brushes himself off when the heat dies down, finally able to compose himself. “What the hells were you doing? Are you mad?!”
They finally let out the laugh they were holding, straightening themselves out. “I blew up a Fireworks shop. An Absolute Cultist was running it! Who knew? To answer your second question, maybe a little bit. It's been a tough day.”
"And you thought you could just run in here while I was working? Making the Flaming Fist dirty my floors after I just had Cal clean it?!"
"I'm sorry Rolan, I panicked. I wasn't thinking." They say, seeming genuinely apologetic.
He could barely focus, mind still catching up with the events. Is he truly this easy? All they had to do was demand a kiss and he would follow them, like a lovesick puppy? He's ashamed of himself, and he didn't even notice them speaking again.
"Rolan?"
"What?"
"How are you?" They ask sincerely.
He straightens himself up and gets back into his usual facade. "I am well enough. This shop and the tower is a horrid mess, so I've already been spending time reorganizing the texts. Lorroakan barely knew his alphabet. They were not even organized by subject!"
They laugh at that, and gods, the sound makes his heart pound, but afterwards they frown at him, eyes scanning to his face. "You're still bruised."
"I haven't had the time to take care of them. There is too much to do."
They dig into their pack and hold out what he recognizes as a superior healing potion. "Here. If you're going to work, at least heal up. Did I hurt you earlier?"
He slowly takes it, perplexed, "It is nothing I can't handle."
"I'm sorry." They murmur.
"I appreciate your apology, and I forgive you." He states, uncorking the bottle and drinking down the potion.
Instantly, the deep set ache and soreness of his form fades to something less painful. Its like a warm hug, and he feels energized.
They give him a soft set smile as he places the bottle down on the desk. "You look a lot better."
Gods, if he could, he would crush the fluttering feeling the compliment gave him. "Excuse you, I always look better. Now, besides that whole mess that you created, was there anything else you needed from me?”
"I want to make purchases...and barter?" They squeak out.
He sighs heavily, opening the door back up for them, "Of course you do. All right, what do you have for trade then?"
They head out to the counter with a skip to their step. "I promise it's worth it!"
---
Tav ended up having plenty of things to trade, including heavy set armor, rings, and magic items they don't need anymore. Thankfully not all fortune is lost, as they give some coin for high level spell scrolls. A Globe of Invulnerability...how interesting. He knows they are out and about adventuring, but what would they need that kind of spell for? How do they even have the gold to afford it??
They were out the door before he can ask them, clearly in a hurry to get somewhere. "Thank you Rolan!"
A little defeated, he continues on with the rest of his day. Organizing, organizing, and even more organizing. This place is such a shit show, it will take him ages before everything is how he wants it to be. Cal always teased him about having his socks color coded in his drawers.
He plops onto a fresh bed at the end of the day. This was Lorroakan's bed, but Cal and Lia helped him out with cleaning the room. New mattress, new sheets, new blankets, and even new pillows. They tore down the hideous tapestries and paintings he had, and he plans to change the wall into a new color. He still needs to personalize the room to how he likes, but now it was his. No trace of Lorroakan is found here. He idly wonders how Tav decorated their room, or if they have a home to go back to. They're still a mystery to him.
As he lays there, staring at the patterned ceiling, he finds it strange he has a room to himself. It's nice, and he's never had more privacy than now. Sometimes Lorroakan entered in his room at odd hours to start a lesson at his leisure. If he wasn't a light sleeper before, he is now due to the man's random visits. Now here he is, laying his bed, with his nights uninterrupted for the most part.
He has privacy.
...He’s pent up, isn’t he?
Through all the beatings and stress, he never took time to himself and get off. He was worried about getting caught by his mentor. On top of it all, he was too exhausted and hurt to even do much for himself, some nights barely having energy to bathe. But now…
With a sigh, he summons a mage hand to grab a book for him. When was the last time he read a smut book? Half a year, maybe more? Even then, he wouldn’t indulge too much as he never had a lot of privacy. With this large bedroom, the walls being silenced, and the time he now has, he will indulge for a little bit. For one night.
As he reads, there’s not much to go off. This one is poorly written, but he can at least give himself an idea. His mind sketches out a neutral form, no identifying…parts, yet. He’s indecisive, but he’s sure he’ll come up with someone satisfactory for the night.
Usually, his fantasies contain anonymous people with no face, or they wear a mask. It’s less embarrassing than thinking of someone directly. Sometimes they take him from behind, pinning the back of his neck to a table while they rail into him. Others he has someone under him, thrusting into them and littering bites on their neck.
For now, he imagines a person of no specific gender yet, holding him close in a crushing grip and devouring his mouth. It leaves him no room to breathe as he’s pinned to the wall, their thigh between his legs pressing up against his growing erection. Heat gathers south embarrassingly quickly, the tent of his pants tightening. What is Tav like in bed?
As soon as that question pops into his head, the blank person he tried to fantasize about turns into Tav. It shocks him how vivid it is, and he immediately sits up, book falling flat on the mattress as he drops it. No no no, absolutely not. They’re a friend.
A friend who pulled him in by the collar to kissed him with reckless abandon. A friend that was ready to pin him down on his desk. A friend who stroked a finger along his jaw to help him relax into their mouth.
Hells.
His fingers trail down his stomach and into his trousers, taking himself in hand. What’s the harm of indulging in this? They kissed, after all. All of their wonderful features are fresh in his mind. As he teases the underside of his shaft, he imagined it was their hand instead of his own. Precum was already beading at the tip, and he uses it to slick up his cock. He still feels their hands on him, pressing and demanding. He wonders what they would’ve done if they had more time. Are they gentle or rough when they stroke? He’s not sure whether he prefers one or the other yet.
None of this would happen, they have many suitors at their disposal. But damn it all, he could dream that they chose him, in the end.
Gods.
He covers his mouth tightly with his free hand, almost painfully as he thrusts up into his other one. This room is covered in silencing sigils, it’s not like anyone would hear him from the outside, but even he doesn’t want to hear his shameful sounds.
He feverishly switches to a different fantasy, this one containing Tav once more, though this time he isn’t complaining.
They’re both deep in the woods, away from the Tiefling party. They saved them all from the goblins, they deserved some compensation, did they not? Tav is pressed against his back, one hand putting two fingers in his mouth, rolling the muscle of his tongue between them while the other jacks him off. He’s utterly helpless, Tav taking control of his pleasure for him in the best ways as he helplessly grips the bark of a tree. They would tell him how good he was, how much they wanted him, how lovely his moans were. That he was handsome, strong, and worthy.
That they loved him-
Strings of white decorate his stomach, his climax coming with a stuttered gasp. It came more quickly than he thought it would, and his body spasms with how intense it is. The cry that climbs up his throat stops short by his hand.
He massages himself through it, feeling dazed and utterly pathetic. How dare he think about Tav in this way, as if they were an object for his pleasure? They’re not his, and he’s not theirs, no matter how much he wants to be. What would they say if they saw him like this, desperate and lustful even after his orgasm?
Gods, he wants them so badly, and he knows he can never have them.
Catching his breath, he feels disgusting. Filthy. He shouldn't think of them at all, he hasn't earned that right to them. It's pitiful.
To remedy his sin, he gets out of his bed and heads to the washroom. It's grand in comparison to his lowly basin in the shop, and he's unsure where to start now that he has access to it. Firstly, he takes out a Create Water spell scroll and casts it, filling the entire tub with water. He then modifies the Produce Flame spell to heat up the water. That will do for now, he'll figure out how to make the process a lot quicker later.
He takes off his soiled nightwear, stepping into the water with a slight hiss. All right, maybe he made it a little too hot, but it's nothing he can't handle. Lorroakan has burned him worse. As soon as he gets to the hip line, he pours lavender oil into the steaming water and sinks in completely. He's heard of the scent being beneficial for sleep, mostly from Tav. He wonders if they are an herbalist- no, no, he isn't supposed to be thinking about them.
Emptying his mind is proving harder than he thought. No thanks to his previous transgression, Tav's face plagued him. Questions pop up without him wanting them to: how does Tav look when flustered? Are they experienced with intimacy? Do they like pain? Are they sweet? What is their perfect date? How do they show their love-
He dunks himself fully into the water before the thought could finish, and he feels the sting of the hot water against his face as he sits under the surface. Finally, his mind is silent, so he holds his breath as long as he could. It's oddly soothing, just being alone under the water. A perfect escape to everything around him. He may just have to do this more often.
Unfortunately, he has not done any training to hold his breath, so he has to come up for air within thirty seconds. Perhaps he should practice, but that's for another time.
Now that his hair was thoroughly wet, he begins washing and conditioning his hair, giving himself a scalp massage while he was at it. He didn't trust the mage hands to do it for him. They were floating in the corner, waiting for a command. Can mage hands pout? It feels as though that's exactly what they're doing. Why are they so eager to help anyways? He should dismiss them when he has the time.
After dunking under the water again to wash out all the products, he exits the bath carefully, using Prestidigitation to instantly dry himself. Ah, what would he do if he didn't have that spell on hand? It is incredibly convenient. Can Tav use magic for mundane tasks?
He pauses as he slides on a robe. Gods damn it, it's happening again! That didn't last too fucking long, now did it?
With a groan, he marches back into the bedroom and towards the balcony, pushing the doors open. The night hair hits him immediately, sending a brief chill through him before calming. With a heavy sigh, he goes to the railing and leans against it, watching the silent city of Baldur's Gate. The lanterns have long burned out, and the stars are blooming above him, but he can't relax. He's desperate for Tav, and it's pitiful.
Pressing his forehead on the cold stone, he realizes what a miserable, selfish, wretched creature he is. After all of those things, he's somehow still hopeful. Why else would they kiss him like that? Is he reading too much into this?
Though, perhaps, instead of dwelling on unwanted thoughts, he should just let them go. Lia always did say he thinks too much. Cal mentioned it could be quite damaging on one's psyche.
So he lets the thoughts flow. All of the domestic ones and all of the lustful ones, too. He flickers through memories of he and Tav's interactions, thinking of what could have been and where he went wrong. The shouting, the aggression, the drinking. Gods, the drinking. He hasn't touched wine in a while because of it.
Then he lets it all go.
He raises his head, taking a deep, long breath of the fresh night air. He's in Baldur's Gate. They all made it. The Absolute's army is about to knock on their door, but just for tonight, at least in this moment, he's calm. He's okay.
Maybe he'll be okay later, too.
After an hour, he makes it to his bed and lulls himself to sleep, pulling up the thickest parts of the blanket to hold. It manages to lull him to sleep. A success, in Rolan's tired mind.
There's so much to do with so little time.
---
A tenday has passed and Tav has not returned.
It's for the best that they don't come, as they continuously plague Rolan's mind. He can't stop thinking about them, no matter how much he distracts himself. Most of them are lustful and depraved, some of which make him feel utterly ashamed. He has no right to think of them in this way.
Though, it's the other thoughts that confuse him the most.
They're domestically blissful. He imagines waking up in bed with them, nuzzling into their hair as they convince him to stay a few more moments. He imagines dates, lacing his fingers through theirs while telling them how stunning they are. He imagines it's their body that he pulls close late at night, and not a spare pillow he squeezes to his chest.
He hates these thoughts more than most, as it makes him silently grieve what could've been if he weren't such an arrogant prick. What if he was nicer to them when they first met? Would they have approached him a third time at the party and invite him to their tent? Embarrassingly, he's been losing more sleep than usual over the what if's, and it's making him sloppy with his work. Papers were scattered, he keeps losing his books, and ink stains have been appearing on his robes more and more lately. Unacceptable.
Is he truly this pathetic, losing sleep over domestic thoughts with someone unreachable? Is he that lonely? Does he crave company that badly? It is a wizard's curse, surely.
He thought he got over this, but it seems he needs more than one night to 'let go' of them. Damn it all, why can't this be easier?
He shakes his head, regaining his focus of the task at hand. Rearranging the scrolls once more, he stands onto his feet again and brushes the dust off of his robe. He proudly places his hands on his hips. Finally, after so many days, he has the counter exactly how he wants it. Everything is organized, not a speck of dust in sight, all of it is beautifully-
One of the doors slam open again by a gust of wind, and rage fills him to the core. Why, oh why are the gods so against him? Now there's dirt of the floor, he just made Krank sweep it all out!
The anger disappears instantaneously when he sees Tav rush through the door, sweat beading on their brow and their face flushes from exertion. Extremely similar to how they appeared last time-
Oh no.
As they rush past the counter to the same room they both in before, he starts following them without thinking. What in the hells was he doing?! This can only lead to something terrible for him, even if Tav would be none the wiser. Why does he torture himself like this? He finally has everything he could ever want, yet he greedy for more. For the one thing he can never hope to have.
But they need him, and he could never deny them.
He quickly enters the room after them, shutting the door on his way in. Thankfully this room is more presentable this time around, but he doubts Tav will notice it. They have never been one to look at the finer details. At least from what he has seen, it's not as if he spent much time around them. That thought makes jealousy swell in his chest.
"I need help again." Tav states, rustling up their clothes.
"I can see that," He sasses, but Tav is already pushing off the mantle that sits on his shoulders before pulling him into a kiss, hand fisting the front of his robes.
What has he done to deserve this punishment? Are the Gods testing him by dangling his one desire in front of him? They should know he's too weak to resist their touch.
He gasps into their mouth when they pin him to the wall, free hand grasping the back of his thigh. They easily put their leg in between his, which puts him in a daze. Is this truly an act if they would go this far, or are they testing his boundaries? The worst part about this is he never wants them to stop. He wants them to keep going and reduce him to a pitiful, breathless mess.
They're already succeeding in that, it seems.
When he feels them try to pry his teeth open, he lets them, tangling his tongue with theirs. The noise is so lewd in his ear, a blush immediately rising to his face at the intimacy of it all. He thought about this situation constantly, both through the actual memory and then to his fantasies. Though, fantasy is nothing compared to their real hand tracing the skin of his exposed neck, mapping out the dips and curves of his adam's apple. Images flash through his mind of them choking him, not to hurt, but to claim. He honesty hopes they would do so, but alas, their hand trails up to cup his jaw instead.
This action only made him more flustered, and while he doesn't understand why, he accepts it all the same and leans into their hand. No one has ever touched his face like this in many, many years. Usually it was hit or slapped, no thanks to his teacher. Even when their touch is as gentle as a dove, he can't help but flinch when their thumb strokes along his cheekbone. They pull away from the kiss, catching their breath with a question on the tip of their tongue.
As if the world is playing a joke, those same Flaming Fists burst the door open. They look surprised once again.
"Again?!" He shouts at them, bristling and baring his teeth.
"Do you fucking mind?" Tav yells after, giving them a hard-earned glare.
The Flaming Fists do not bother arguing again, turning heel and leaving the shop without another word. They look foolish, doing their walk of shame. At least they were quick about it, Rolan did not feel like giving them another lecture.
"How do you do, Rolan?" They tease, a hand still fisting his sleeve.
It is a miracle how he keeps his composure. "Well enough, I suppose. Now, as I said earlier, again?"
"There's a perfectly good explanation."
"Then?"
"They were assholes so I stole their money."
"I'm inclined to agree. They are quite intrusive in their searches. Though, must have you lead them here again? I just had Krank clean the floors of the shop from bottom to top!" He complains, running a hand down his face as he stabilizes his footing, "Now I'll have to command him to do it all over again. At least the bottom part."
"I know, I'm sorry to do this to you again. I can make it up to you!" The say quickly before taking a pause. "Wait, you reanimated Krank?"
"Despite being Lorroakan's, he still had his uses." He drawls, suddenly feeling trapped in their space. "Clearly weaponry is not the armors calling, so I have him clean the floors in the morning and at night. There hasn't been any complaints."
"It's animated armor, Rolan. It can't complain."
"I meant complaints from the customers, you absolute dunce!" He snaps and immediately regrets it, but Tav bursts out in a fit of laughter at his insult.
Never has he understood what was so funny about them being insulted. Does he look like a fool doing so? Are they laughing at him? He should be angry over it but he most likely deserves it.
"Well, I feel terrible for dragging you in here twice," They giggle, wiping a stray tear from their eye. "So I want to make it up to you."
"And how do you suppose you'll do that?" He challenges.
"Well, we already got the first part of it started, if you're interested." They tease, voice low.
Oh gods.
"We could take it further. I can feel your little friend down there, and I'm more than happy to help." They murmur in his ear.
A cold sweat hits him in that instant. This is his worst nightmare. He wants it, gods does he want it so badly, but if he accepts it there will be no turning back for him.
They attempt to cup his cheek but he turns his face away, gently pushing them.
“Rolan?”
“I can’t do this.” He says, unable to look them in the eye, but he feels the way they tense.
Before they can start apologizing, he continues, “I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you since the Shadow-Cursed Lands, I think. I adore many things about you. But you keep holding me like this, kissing me, and it's starting to make me believe that there will be more than this, one day. When The Absolute is gone, and Baldur's Gate is safe, you would do me the honor of considering me as a...companion."
"Oh, Rolan..."
"I refuse to be a side piece, someone who will be at your beckon call whenever you're bored. You’re tugging at my heart as if it’s your plaything, and while I know you have not done this on purpose, I can't handle it anymore."
He exhales sharply, tilting his face up when he feels tears sting his eyes. "Please, do not torture me like this and just go. Leave."
When he’s met with silence, he swallows and blinks away the wetness of his eyes. He knew that he never had a chance, and that their affections were never real. How could his savior ever look at him like he looked at them? But that diversion of theirs was so wonderful, and for at least a temporary moment, he felt wanted. Desired.
Loved.
He knew he couldn’t continue. It is selfish of him and he would’ve been setting himself up for heartbreak.
Tav leans in close, eyes tender as they tilt his chin back down. “Rolan…I’ve been a fool. I thought I was being obvious.”
He finally can look at them in the eye. “What?”
They can't help but chuckle, but it is a good natured one, “I’m in love with you too, idiot. Why do you think I would keep seeing you in this way?” They ask, tucking some hair behind his ear. “I'm so sorry, I should have been more forward with you. I never meant to hurt your heart like this, you mean too much to me."
He must be dreaming, he has to be, but he can feel the of their body pressing against him. They want him too, and it makes his heart want to burst out of his ribcage. He isn't aware of the blush that rises in his face at their confession, making his already red skin grow crimson.
They carefully cup his face again, pressing their forehead against his, being mindful of his horns. "I'm sorry Rolan, truly. Could you ever forgive me?"
His adam's apple bobs with his swallow, but his face remains a stern look. "...Your apology seems genuine, and I forgive you."
"Well good, I was worried that I just fucked up my chance." They huff with a smile, gently pinning him against the wall once more. "Now, would you like me to try this again and kiss you?”
“Please.” He whispers instantly, tail coiling around their leg.
It was unclear who pulled in first, but what mattered is their hands were all over each other as they kiss fiercely. He felt one of their hands move back and grip the base of his tail. A pathetic whimper escapes his mouth, pleasure shooting up his spine. Tav happily nips his bottom lip in response before pulling away. “I want to see your bedroom, Rolan. Now.”
"As you wish." He responds breathlessly.
Using Dimension Door, he teleports the both of them to the top of the stairs of Sorcerous Sundries, pulling them through the portal and into the tower. This is a totally inappropriate use of one of his higher level spells, but his mind is in a sexually charged place. He'll chastise himself for it later.
His grip on their hand is tight, sweat gathering there as he teleports them again to the bedroom. It isn't customized to his liking quite yet, but it at least has the colors he wants. Deeper blues mixed with other calming colors to help him sleep. He doubts Tav is admiring the features with the way they pull him onto the mattress.
When they both settle in the bed, Tav quickly gets undressed, unclipping the armor and ripping off their under clothes in one fell swoop. Whatever he though their body looked like in his dreams, the real thing is so much better. Any little scar or texture change, he either wants to trace with his fingers or with his tongue. As they lay back and spread their legs, he reaches for them.
They gently smack his hand away when he tries to touch their chest, smirking. “No. You will sit back all pretty and watch.”
His mouth goes dry, surprised at the sudden command, but would he truly be a student of the Weave if he did not know how to listen to directions? He does as told, sitting back on his feet.
"Do you have oil in here?" They question.
"Right side, top drawer."
They crawl over and grab it, settling back into position as they drizzle the product onto their fingers. They make a show of it, too, playing with the substance between their fingers before their hand trails down in between their legs, locking eyes with Rolan.
He swallows as he watches them open themselves up, all for him. It sends his mind reeling with lust, and he’s still not allowed to touch. Torture, is what it is. They have him exactly where they want him, and he is not complaining one bit. Not in his wildest imagination could he have though of this scenario. It's incredible. They're incredible.
As they go on languidly slow, he starts feeling hot all over. His clothes feel too suffocating around his body, his trousers unbelievably tight. It takes everything in him not to palm his growing erection, biting a lip to stifle a small moan that threatens to escape his throat.
“I want to watch you take all those layers off, Rolan. It’s not fair if I’m the only one naked.” They demand, hooking their fingers inside of themselves and groaning.
He responds by finally taking off that mantle that sets heavy on his shoulders. They watch him unblinking as he instantly gets his robes off, seeing the tent in his smalls that expresses his want. It looks painful. He throws the robes, shoes, and smalls off somewhere in the room, his cock now in the cold air, leaking.
They smirk at the sight, now curling three fingers in with a long winded moan. “Gods, I can’t wait to have you in me. I bet you feel so good, look at that…”
Have they always been this good with their words? They always have in his pathetic fantasies, but the real thing makes him twitch in need. He wants to touch them, feel their skin against his in a blaze of pleasure.
Alas, he has to wait.
Finally, they take their fingers out of themselves and sit back up. “I’m ready for you.”
“I want to touch you, Tav.” He admits, fingers twitching on the top of his thighs.
They crawl over to him and sit in his lap, breathing hard as they wrap their arms around his shoulders. “You may.”
He takes some small amount of comfort in that they’re as hot and bothered as he is, watching their flushed face before they crash their lips into his own.
He whines into their mouth, his cock trapped in between their stomachs. The friction is positively divine and he already thinks he may be close with the way their fingers trace the ridges on his back. They're mapping them out, pressing against the wing impressions on his shoulder blades and then trailing them down his spine. As soon as they reach the base of his tail, they tug on it once more.
A gasp shudders out of him when they grind against him. “Tav, if you keep doing that, I won’t last much longer.”
They hum in approval, sucking a hickey into the base of his throat. “What if I promise to make you come again?”
“Tav, please—”
“Okay okay.” They relent, moving back a little to give him some breathing room.
They stay in his lap as they pull him in for another kiss, and he joyfully obliges. Their tongues dance as he gropes their chest, mostly wanting to feel the unique textures of their skin. They’re perfect, to him. He wishes they were some sort of god, because at least then he would have an explanation for his need towards them. This unrelenting desire that he has pleaded for every night when he dreamt of them.
He has so many dreams, one that wake him in a sweat and painfully hard in his trousers. He made a theory that indulging would help the process of forgetting his desires, but it seems as though his hypothesis was wrong. Dead wrong. His dreams of them only became more vivid, some tricking him into thinking it was real. He mourned when he woke up those mornings, wondering why the Gods were torturing him with their image, their body, their face, their laugh.
Hells, he hopes he's not dreaming right now, they feel too real. He can feel them biting and tugging his lower lip, so he concludes that they were, in fact, here with him. Making him feel so much better than his wildest fantasies. Their nails bite into the back of his neck as they briefly deepen the kiss, before pulling themselves away, a string of saliva connecting them. For at least a moment, he catches his breath.
With a solid push to his chest, he falls back onto the bed with a soft thump. He pushes himself back up onto his elbows quickly, breathing harsh. At first, he’s worried he screwed something up. Did his nails hurt their skin? He should have blunt them this morning. But then they straddle his waist and take hold of his drooling hard-on, ready to sink onto him. “Hold still.”
As they lower themselves, stars burst behind his eyes as he takes them fully, their walls squeezing around him so deliciously. He bites back a moan that tries to work its way up his throat. Squeezing his eyes shut, he manages to hold himself together when they seat themselves onto him.
“Gods, you feel so fucking good Rolan.” They moan, clenching briefly around him until they finally relax. They do a test grind, and he knows he's hitting all the right places within them with the way their eyes flutter.
“So do you.” He says breathlessly, a light sheen of sweat already decorating his skin, pupils blown wide as his tail flicks about. The appendage instinctively reaches for something to hold onto. Anything at all. In the end, he settles with wrapping his tail around their waist, keeping himself grounded. They smile down at him when they feel it squeeze them.
He tries to reach for for their sides shakily, but they are more put together in this moment, and much faster. They take his hands, lacing their fingers through his, and pin them each besides his head. He’s only met with a grin before they start riding him with reckless abandon, gripping his hands unbelievably tight.
A groan that trails off into a whimper escapes his throat, hips subconsciously thrusting up into their tight heat. It felt positively divine feeling their walls clench around him, purposely teasing. They’re grinning, even when they toss their head back and moan. He squeezes their hands for dear life, already losing himself as their skin meets his. “Ah— Tav—“
“That’s it baby, I want to hear you.” They pant, leaning down and kissing him soundly. He lets their tongue pry his lips with ease, begging for a taste.
“I won’t last if— gods—“ he cries against their mouth, toes curling in the sheets.
“I don’t care, let me feel you. I want it.”
He curses when they clench around him again, clearly wanting to milk him dry, but he manages to stave his orgasm off. At least for a little bit. This felt so fucking good, he never wants it to end. But with the way they roll their hips, he’s not going to last. He wishes he could have last longer, giving them their pleasure the way they deserve after all of their hardship. They saved him, saved his siblings, saved the tieflings. Twice. Then they saved him for a third time. They did not have to, they could've walked away and let him lay with his poor choices. They didn't, and he's never seen them more angry than when they saw his bruised face.
His stomach suddenly tightens, giving him that impending warning he knows all too well in recent days. “C—Close, I’m close—“ he rasps.
“Me too. Fuck, you feel so good love.” They murmur thoughtlessly.
That nickname teeters him over the edge, and Rolan came with a cry in his throat. Tav was not far behind, fluttering around him as they came as well.
They breathe hard, resting on top of him and letting go of his hands. They instead use them to hold his heated face and kiss him gently. With his hands free, he wraps his arms around their back to pull them closer. He’s spent, exhausted, but he’s never felt more content as he kisses them.
Before they both could feel uncomfortable, he murmurs the words of prestidigitation and cleans them up as they rise off of his softening cock. They plop next to him on the bed, smiling tiredly.
“You were amazing.”
He laughs at that, wiping sweat off of his face. “I should be saying that to you.”
“Then we’re both amazing, hm?” They tease, scooting closer to his side. "Where did you learn how to fuck like that?"
"Must you be so vulgar?" He exasperates with a groan, making them laugh, "But if you must know, I have done extensive research on the subject."
"Ooooh research! What, did you study anatomy books?"
He groans, covering his face with his hands.
"Wait a minute, you have a smut collection?! This I have to see."
"Absolutely not!" He shouts, his face, neck, and ears now a deep crimson.
They burst out laughing, and as much as he wants to chastise them for it, he ends up laughing with them. He's never felt so light before now, as if he's finally feeling relief for all the trouble he's been through.
Gods, he's truly in love with them, isn't he?
"I can go for a round two, if you're up for it." They say after calming down their laughter.
He snickers at that, pecking heir forehead. "As much as that sounds wonderful, you've exhausted me for the day."
"Then how about some cuddling? Karlach always said I give great hugs."
He hums, pecking their cheek next as they wrap their arms around him. "I think I would like that, very much."
Letting out a deep rooted sigh, he feel all the tension in his body finally leave him. He should be disgusted by all the sweat gathered around them in the aftermath of their activities, but in this moment, he wouldn't have it any other way. There's time to complain about it later. Perhaps he can show them the bath he now uses. Would they be impressed by it? It certainly is better than whatever they have going on in the Elfsong Tavern. He wants to do everything to impress them, make himself worth their while even with the chaos that is their lives. But for now, he's calm.
For the first time, Rolan felt truly free.
"Does Krank know how to clean bed sheets?"
Snorting, he looks at them again. "I haven't made him try. He's decent at mopping and sweeping...somewhat. Why?"
"Just curious. It's cute how you just have a little servant now, cleaning the place."
"Krank is not a servant, he is an employee of my establishment."
"You don't pay him!"
"That is not the point! He works, does he not?"
They laugh, pressing their forehead against his. "Fine, fine, but why not make him clean your room, including the sheets?"
"He will mess them up! I know how to properly smooth it out and make this room look highly presentable."
"Oh, I'm sure you do...anyways, do you have a bath in here? I stink and feel sweaty."
He barks out a laugh, reluctantly getting out of their arms and shuffling off the bed. "I do, it's in the next room over."
When he offers his hand to them, they happily take it as he leads them to the side room. The large bath presents itself, though it is empty right now. He should figure out a way for it to be ready automatically in any time of the day, but he'll work out the kinks later. He wants to show them that his fingers have talent in ways they wouldn't comprehend. All of it in the form of a heavenly scalp massage.
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˗ˏˋ art deco ࿐ྂ
"you're not mean, you're just born to be seen"
summary: kokonoi hajime unwillingly has front-row seats to sano "mikey" manjiro's descent into darkness and now he unknowingly watches the start of a new obsession with something a lot prettier that owns one too many mini skirts
pairing(s): kanto!mikey x f!reader
notes: told through koko's eyes and the beginning of yandere!mikey and pre-bonten. heart divider by cafekitsune
warnings: canon typical violence, mentions of weapons, mentions of murder, implied mental health issues, slight bimbo!reader, suggestive themes, mentioned voyeurism, obsession, future yandere(?), not edited we die like my potential
word count: 1690
Sano “Mikey” Manjiro was no longer the man he used to be. Perhaps after killing a bunch of people, part of him had gone numb. Or maybe most of him. He doesn’t feel the same way anymore and it’s clear to everyone around him. His black Toman jacket had been long changed to white and he’s got an appointment with a tattoo artist soon. Kokonoi wonders when it will be his turn to get tattooed next. He wonders when the matching jackets will be changed to suits and their flimsy pipes and bats will be replaced with guns. Kokonoi isn’t sure if he’s looking forward to it or not. Many things have changed quickly and so has Mikey.
Kokonoi Hajime accidentally got front-row seats to Sano “Mikey” Manjiro’s plunge into darkness and it’s not something very fun to watch especially since nothing he does can get the latter out of it. It was almost like Mikey wanted to burn. Like he enjoyed it. Kokonoi Hajime glanced up from his laptop, the soft glow of the screen illuminating his tired eyes. The rain outside pelted the floor-to-ceiling windows, a rhythmic drumming that filled the otherwise silent penthouse. Mikey stood motionless, staring out into the storm as if it held answers to the questions he never voiced. Kokonoi had grown used to this silence, the heavy, unspoken tension that seemed to hang over them like a dark cloud. “Mikey— Oh hi Koko!”
Maybe the only thing stopping Mikey from fully going crazy was you and your damn mini-skirt. You twirl into the room with that infectious energy of yours, your sneakers tapping against the marble floor. The rain pattering against the windows is almost drowned out by your cheerful presence. You greet Kokonoi with a bright smile, your eyes sparkling with a naivety that seems out of place in the world of the Kanto Manji Gang— in Sano “Mikey” Manjiro’s world. “Hi Koko!” you repeat, a playful lilt in your voice
Kokonoi can’t help but crack a small smile at your enthusiasm, the glitter in the inner corners of your eyes shining under the artificial light. You always manage to bring a bit of light into these dark times, even if you don’t fully understand the shadows lurking around you. Mikey, however, doesn’t move. His gaze remains fixed on the storm outside, his reflection a ghostly figure in the glass. Kokonoi watches him, the unease gnawing at him. Mikey's transformation from the once lively, mischievous leader of Tokyo Manji Gang to this silent, brooding figure of Kanto Manji Gang is unsettling. You flounce over to Mikey, your hips swaying with each step. You wrap your arms around him from behind, resting your cheek against his back. “Mikey, come on. You promised we’d watch a movie tonight” you whine, trying to coax him away from the window, glossy lips shifting into a pout
Mikey finally shifts, his shoulders relaxing slightly at your touch. He turns around, and for a moment, Kokonoi catches a glimpse of the old Mikey in the way his dark eyes soften when he looks at you. “Yeah, I did, didn’t I?” he says, his voice a low rumble.
Honestly speaking, in Kokonoi’s opinion, you were kind of a bimbo— in some sense that is. You were top of your class with the goal of getting into law school but here you were in a damn mini skirt, your bruised knees knocking against Sano Manjiro who is a literal fucking criminal. Maybe you have one of those weird fantasies of representing your criminal boyfriend in court. The problem with that though is you and Manjiro weren’t together. You were just a pretty distraction, someone who brought a flicker of life into Mikey’s darkened world, a role you played with such unknowing perfection that even Kokonoi found it admirable. The darkness that enveloped Mikey was thick, suffocating, but you… you seemed to be the only one who could penetrate it, if only slightly with your stupid mini skirt that hugged your hips and thighs so well. “Not feeling it?” You ask him innocently, the tips of your white sneakers knocking against his boots
Maybe you were a little stupid but other than academic smarts, you were emotionally smart too. You didn’t realize just who you were hanging around and what the penthouse you waltzed into was but you knew when Sano “Mikey” Manjiro wasn’t feeling well. Kokonoi admires that because he as well as the other top members of Kanto Manji Gang were yet to figure out Mikey’s emotions. “Not really” Mikey says, his fingers curl around your hip in an almost possessive manner, pulling you closer to him.
Kokonoi watches the exchange, feeling a pang of jealousy mixed with something he can't quite place. Maybe it's envy at your ability to reach Mikey in a way he can't, or perhaps it's frustration at Mikey's apparent detachment from everyone else. Kokonoi watches you wrap your arms around Mikey’s neck. The contrast between Mikey’s brooding presence and your bubbly aura is almost comical, like a scene from a twisted romantic comedy. Kokonoi can’t help but shake his head at the irony of it all. “What’s wrong, Mikey?” you ask softly, your voice laced with genuine worry.
Mikey’s gaze softens as he looks down at you, his thumb brushing against your cheekbone. “Nothing you need to worry about, sweetheart” he murmurs, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.
Kokonoi watches the exchange, feeling a twinge of envy mixed with a hint of admiration. Despite everything, Mikey still had the ability to care for someone, even if it was in his own twisted way. You pout slightly, not satisfied with his vague answer. “But I do worry about you, Mikey. You know that,” you insist, your well-manicured fingers intertwining with his bruised fingers.
A small, almost invisible smile tugs at the corners of Mikey’s lips. “I know, babe. And I appreciate it” he says, sincerity ringing in his voice.
He leans down to press a lingering kiss to your lips, a silent promise of reassurance. Kokonoi can’t help but feel a pang of jealousy at the intimacy between you and Mikey. It’s not that he harbours any romantic feelings for Mikey himself, but rather he envies the connection you two share, a connection that seems to elude him in this world of darkness and violence. As you pull away from the kiss, a bright smile graces your lips once more. Your lip gloss is now transferred onto Mikey’s lips and he doesn’t seem to mind as he licks up the artificial taste, his eyes never leaving yours as he does. It was weird though— You and Mikey weren’t dating but you still kissed and cuddled and did other things like normal couples did. Mikey called you sweetheart, babe, baby, doll, angel and any other sweet endearment his tainted mind could think of but you both weren’t dating. You both aren’t dating but Kokonoi knows the bruises on your knees are from when Mikey’s got you on the floor between his legs and the scratches on Mikey’s back are from you being pinned beneath him. “I’ve been a little stressed though. Come help me out?” Mikey says to you, thumb rubbing away some of the lipgloss that smeared onto your chin when he kissed you
Kokonoi can imagine it clearly— you down on your knees on the hardwood floor in front of Mikey, your pretty eyes wide and watery with drool running down your chin and mascara smudged; your stupid mini skirt hiked up around your hips as Mikey made you take it. “Hm, m’kay” You answer a little too innocently for what Mikey was suggesting at
As Mikey guides you to another room in the penthouse, he looks over his shoulder. “Koko, make sure no one disturbs us”
“Got it boss” He answers, trying to sound as apathetic as possible
The lock on the door clicks and Kokonoi is already scrambling to find his headphones. He’s been a victim of getting hard off listening to your breathy moans and helpless whimpers too many times already and he’s still got work to do. Kokonoi wasn’t a huge fan of being a voyeur like the rest of the sickos and perverts Mikey let into Kanto Manji Gang after all. He barely gets his headphones in when he hears a breathy groan come from the other side of the locked door. He tries to focus on his work, to lose himself in the lines of code scrolling across the screen, but his mind keeps drifting back to the scene unfolding behind the locked door. He can almost picture it—the way you kneel before Mikey, your eyes wide with anticipation, your lips parted in a silent plea. He can hear the soft rustle of fabric as Mikey guides you, his voice low and commanding. It’s a scene that plays out in his mind with disturbing clarity, one that he wishes he could erase but finds himself unable to look away from.
Kokonoi Hajime unwillingly has front-row seats to Sano “Mikey” Manjiro’s descent into darkness. But it seems he’s watching an obsession grow as well.
An obsession that owns too many mini skirts and with a smile as bright as the sun.
Kokonoi wonders how long it will take for that obsession to grow into something unhealthy and something that starts to hurt you. But even as he wonders, a part of him knows that he’ll be there to witness it all. Because in this world of darkness and violence, there are few constants, and Kokonoi has unwittingly become one of them. So he continues to work, his fingers flying across the keyboard as he loses himself in the safety of his own little world, a world far removed from the chaos that surrounds him.
As the night wears on and the sounds from the other room grow louder, Kokonoi can’t help but feel a sense of resignation settle over him. Because in the end, he knows that you’re just as trapped as the rest of them, prisoners of their own making in a world where darkness reigns supreme.
#tokyo revengers#mikey sano#mikey x reader#sano mikey manjiro#tokyo rev#tokyo revengers fandom#tokyo revengers x reader#sano manjiro#sano manjiro x reader#manjiro sano#kanto manji gang#kanto mikey
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could u write maxiel getting matching tattoos plssss
it’s 2am after their first las vegas grand prix when daniel meets him at the hotel lobby. he’s holding two bottles of beer, and they are cold when he presses them on max’s naked arm.
“oi,” he says, laughing loudly and pushing max a bit with the bottle until he steps over his feet and tries to stay up as much as his champagne fuzzed brain allows him to.
“fuck off,” max says, snatching the bottle and pressing it on daniel’s cheek, “let’s get out of here.”
they have this thing, after races. ever since the red bull days, whoever finishes behind in the race has to buy the other a beer.
daniel has bought max a lot of beers these last few years.
and so here they are. almost 8 years later and daniel is bringing max a beer and smiling at him.
“you wanna… go to my room?”
that’s another thing they do, ever since the red bull days. daniel will look at him with shiny eyes and a big grin and ask max if he wants to go to bed with him. and max will say yes sometimes and some other times he will say no, if he’s not in the mood or he’s got someone else to fuck.
but not today, “lead the way.”
the sex is good. but the sex is always good with daniel. max lets him fuck him like no one else has before, dirty and raw and all over the room.
they lay in bed afterwards and hold each other and pretend it doesn't mean anything when they both know it does.
max is tracing his fingers on ink, carefully following a wing on a butterfly and then a petal on a flower. daniel makes a noise and closes his eyes, ignoring him completely.
“how many do you have?” he speaks into the quiet of the room.
“tattoos?” daniel says in that soft accent that max likes so much, “i have no idea.”
max hums and continues his tracing, moving on to an envelope and pusing higher and higher until his hand is resting on daniel’s ass and squeezing.
“you like them?” daniel says, kissing max’s chest and leaving small bites on his pecks, smiling when max gasps softy.
max nods and when daniel opens his eyes, he’s is looking at him back. his eyelids droppy from what max can tell is a pleasant buzz in his belly.
his lashes are so long and they are so close max can count every single freckle on his nose. so he does, 1, 2, 3, 4…. he counts freckles to distract himself from the feeling of alcohol in his system and the need to run away that’s always on the back of his mind.
“we should-” daniel starts.
“get a tattoo,” max blurts out for no reason.
daniel leans back and stars at max, his eyebrows furrow for a second before they raise in amusement. “and what would we be getting, maxy?”
max feels his heart beat hard in his chest. he can’t really back out now. he’s never liked the idea of tattoos, until daniel, that is.
daniel, with his intricate patters on his thigh, the way he will tell you what each of them means as he lets your fingers trace them. daniel, who gets hard and lets you suck his dick if you say his tattoos are hot.
the idea of having something related to daniel on his body forever is definitely something he can get behind. he just can’t believe he’s okay with it after never thinking about tattoos in his life, and that daniel has no questions or doubts and is immediately asking what they should get.
“i-” max licks his lips and thinks, for a good minute, “our race numbers?”
“thirteen?” daniel smax and lets himself fall back on the pillows, smile widening, “come kiss me.”
“i meant three hundred thirty three.” max says and slides closer, his thigh on top of daniel’s their crotches pressing together.”
“i know, i just like the way you say three.” daniel kisses him, bites his bottom lip and doesn't let him protest. max pillows his elbows on each side of daniel’s head, throws his leg all the way over and straddles him.
“hey,” daniel says, starting up at him with interested eyes, “what are you up to?”
max shifts his weight and doesn’t say anything, just stares at daniel for a long minute. “would you…”
“what?" daniel’s hands findmax’s ass and he squeezes, his voice getting lower, “you want to go again?”
max lets out a breath, and daniel’s mouth quirks up at the corner, “just say what you want.”
“sit on your face,” max whispers. his eyes slam closed, afraid to see what comes next, but daniel just rubs his palms against the soft skin of max’s upper thighs.
“come here,” daniel says with an exhale, letting max shuffle up until his thighs are on either side of daniel’s grinning face.
daniel reaches around, pulling max down by the meat of his ass, and then he's lifting his head so that he can drag his tongue up, coming to press against his hole.
it feels so good and max settles himself down more firmly, hips straining back into the slickness of daniel’s tongue. he’s sloppy about it, spit already dripping everywhere, making max groan and roll his eyes.
his hands come up, roughly spreading max’s ass open so that he can lick him more firmly, and he moans loudly, embarrassingly. it feels like it's punched out of him, and daniel chuckles softly against him before withdrawing, one finger slipping to the side and sinking into max to replace his tongue.
"you like that?" he asks. "you like me getting you all wet, baby?”
max doesn't respond, just arches his back and pushes his ass out, silently begging. the message seems to come across loud and clear, because then daniel’s tongue is back, lapping at him like he can't bear the thought of another moment passing in which he isn't doing just this. he thrusts his finger roughly inside of max, opening him up and demanding that he make space for him inside, and when his body has given in to that demand, daniel just adds another.
it has max's knees shaking even as he grinds back, desperate to get more of anything, the hard press of daniel’s fingers inside of him or the slick interruption of his tongue between them. but then daniel’s wandering, his tongue flicking down over max' balls, sucking lightly until max keens and shifts further back to daniel’s shoulders.
he feels daniel smile before he brushes his lips over max’s dick softly before taking it in his mouth, sucking it down until max cries out, hips jerking forward.
daniel’s mouth is so hot and wet around him; max can feel the soft ridge of his teeth against the head, and then daniel clenches his fingers on the meat of his ass as he lets max thrust in his mouth over and over.
the sensation is so good, so perfect, that max plants his hands on the mattress above daniel’s head, giving himself better leverage to roll his hips into his mouth. he tilts his head down so he can watch his dick sliding out and then back in, daniel’s lips stretched obscenely around him, his eyes half-lidded in concentration.
maybe he could do this faster, harder, fuck daniel’s mouth like he really wants to, but he loves the view far too much. loves letting daniel have control.
when he starts getting closer, panting softly, max sits back up. daniel’s fingers stir inside of him again, rubbing against his prostate and sucking on him harder now, and max's hands reach down, one cupping daniel’s face, the other carding roughly through his hair. he wishes he could do this all the time, not only after a beer and a race.
but the thought that he might never have this again makes it hotter, better. he feels overloaded and shaky, and daniel only rubs harder inside of him until he tugs frantically at his hair, trying to get him to draw back.
"please," he begs. "i’m gonna-"
daniel just sucks more firmly, fingers crooking inside of max, and with a long moan. max is coming down his throat, long pulses forcing his body into shivers. his fingers fist tight in daniel’s hair as he thrusts slowly against his tongue, determined to get every last drop of come down daniel’s throat.
when it becomes too much, he shifts back, hurriedly pulling off daniel like he’s hurting him. he crawls off of daniel, laying down in silence, and daniel curls around him, nosing gently at his neck.
"we need to get a tattoo," daniel says against max’s ear. "three hundred thirty three.”
#this is literally not what you asked for#AT ALL#maxiel#max verstappen#daniel ricciardo#mine#ive been on a slump okay :(
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Gojo Satoru
I said once in my sukuna vs gojo post, that he doesn't prioritise personal connection, but it's more nuanced than that, so very badly worded from my part.
Gojo very much understood personal connections and relationships.
Gojo however loves being the strongest, he loves his strength, revels in it infact and wouldn't give up on it for anything, even if it caused him loneliness and that's why his dehumanisation comes from HIMSELF too. He is fine being a tool and being lonely if it means he can have his strength. Yes, his mindset is fucked up, that's the point.
That's why I never subscribed to all the "bring back nerfed" theories because chapter 236 made it ever clear.
Sukuna calls him (and kashimo) greedy, because unlike sukuna who thinks "love" is worthless, gojo very much wants both connections AND strength.
It wasn't that people were not reaching out to him, it's just that, he wouldn't stoop to their level, he wanted them to become stronger so that they can become as strong as him, so no one is lonely, so that strength doesn't isolate them like it did with him.
He pushes away people while at the same time craves attachment and understanding, but since he would NEVER give up on his strength, that results into largening the gap/distance even more. He causes his own misery and is ready to live with it.
The recent chapter was pretty much very consistent with his portrayal, he fully committed to his role by becoming the monster he was stopping himself from being all these year, for his students. Even in this chapter yuta very much reached out to him, in a way gojo couldn't to geto during that kfc meet, but it's gojo who again decided that it's his burden to bear alone. His was being reached out, it's HIM who didn't close the gap.
People are not ok with him just being treated like a tool and just being seen for his strength, but my point is, when has he ever had any identity beyond being "The strongest," not to imply he doesn’t have any other identity at all, but everyone always prioritized his identity as the strongest, EVEN he himself.
That's the reason why he loved his youth so much and considered it the best time of his life, because then, he had BOTH, strength and a equal buddy (geto), that's why that friendship lasted such huge impact on him. (Also imma just say here, people both underestimate and overestimate his relationship with geto, it's very funny to watch)
People were complaining about characters seeing him as a tool, but they were quite unironically doing the very same thing. Putting him on pedestal, using him to continue being in series for their own happiness and enjoyment of the series, not respecting his wishes from chapter 236, and treating him the same way characters within the story do with him.
Also, you can dislike the way he was treated, that's precisely the point, but don't go around claiming the gege assassinated his own writing because your dislike ≠ bad writing. People are using morality of their real life within a story where everything is being questioned, the so called "good guys" of the story keep repeating that they are not heros, most of them are murderers themselves.
The curses are showing humanity, everything related to normal human morality is being questioned.
So the "he would be happy powerless" doesn't work because thats what YOUR morality tells you (its fine to feel that way), but he most likely wouldn't be happy with it, he isn't a real person either lol. Dude has nasty aspects to him, it’s one of them, they add more to his character, he is selfish (and selfless too), and let him be like that.
In the very end, Gojo very much managed to raise a bunch of students who will carry his will, he is alive in them.
Peace out ✌️
Pretty much my rant after this chapter because of the discourse going around is creating wayyy too many misinterpretations. Also I don't care what you think of the series as long as you just stop forcing your beliefs on others and saying its bad writing, when it's not. I don't think a character can exist outside of the narrative or story he was created in, gojo is amazing because of jujutsu kaisen story, outside of it, who is he?
#satoru gojo#gojo satoru#itadori yuuji#jjk meta#jujustu kaisen#jjk#jjk manga#gojo#jujutsu kaisen meta#yuta okkotsu#jjk 261#i was tired of people targeting gege like wtf#drop the series if you hate the writing so much#i want to read it because i love what gege is portraying#its not for everyone i suppose#geto suguru
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“a hero will sacrifice the person they love to save the world, but a villain will sacrifice the world to save the person they love.” what characters do you think fit the first one and which ones the second?
Ooo love this question! I think, given the nature of the series, many characters can fall under either category under the right circumstances. But a few stand out to me as very solidly one or the other:
"Hero"
Kakashi, because he knows nothing but duty and sacrifice, even and especially at great personal cost.
Hashirama knows all about sacrificing the person he loves (re: Madara) for the good of the world (re: peace).
Minato, absolutely. How could he be anything but after what he did to his own son so his village could have a nuke?
I first wrote up something explaining why he'd fall under the "villain" part, but Madara invested far too much in the whole eye of the moon thing for me to really properly argue that there's a world in which he fucks off to be happy if the right person just asked.
I don't think Shikamaru could bring himself to sacrifice the world for anyone, but I do think he could face the bleak, bleak music if his beloved had to be sacrificed for the world.
"Villain"
Right off the bat, Naruto. All the world can burn, but not Sasuke. And we see that time and time again.
Itachi, who is also Weird about Sasuke. You don't get much more "will sacrifice the world" than Itachi slaughtering his entire clan in order to convince Danzo to let his brother live.
Obito!! Good god he's insane and is very much doing this fuck shit in the series for Rin, soooo
Sakura feels things too deeply to do anything other than gleefully toss the rest of the world away for the person she loves.
#naruto#Naruto headcanons#naruto uzumaki#itachi#obito#sakura#kakashi#hashirama#minato#madara#shikamaru
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What is your favorite RvB arc? What’s you’re favorite RvB season?
(I ask them as two different questions cuz sometimes they don’t always match up: my favorite arc is Recollection but my favorite season is 10) :)
EASY. CHORUS. NO FUCKING DOUBT IN MY MIND.
Now, I’ll preface this with I have yet to see past season 16 for my own reasons (though I intend to watch them now) but Chorus has always been my favorite seasons full stop. Favorite season? Yeah still Chorus.
Chorus makes me insane cause it’s Tuckers best set of seasons and personally I wish they would write him like that again. I wish they’d write all the reds and blues like that again. I really do just thing they were the best seasons for the characters especially my favorites.
Watching a character who for so long was nothing more than a walking sex joke have to face the fact that he had to step up and be a leader is insane to me. Not even to talk about the fact that Tucker through this whole time is under so much pressure in so many ways.
Firstly you have Wash and Kimball constantly telling him that he can be better that he can do better and where they think they’re working to uplift him they’re really just unknowingly bringing him down cause Tucker physically can’t see himself as anything even close to a capable soldier
Tucker has like actual fucking insecurities but we never see them cause he’s got so much bravado to him to mask it all like THIS is when we see that it’s so fascinating
Also just lots of people die in RvB and most the MCs don’t bat much an eye even when they cause it but Tucker’s reaction to getting some kid killed in a mission that he was supposed to be running is fucking EARTH shattering
Also the characters in this arc are so amazing. From Locas and Felix to Kimball and Doyal and all Polomo and all them like god what an amazing supporting cast holy shit
ALSO THE ANGST! THE DRAMA! TUCKER GETTING FOR REAL AND ACTUALLY STABBED! THEM THINKING THAT THEIR FRIENDS ARE BEING TORTURED! THE TUCKINGTON OF IT ALL!!!!
Anyways best arc best set of seasons full fucking stop I have seen RvB in it’s entirety at least five maybe six times but the Chorus arc I have watched more times than I can remember I will just flip on those three seasons and go ham
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❤️🩹Lifeline | MYG❤️🩹
Synopsis: It’s long been controversial for idols to date, but idols dating each other can be really beautiful or a complete nightmare. When Yoongi's relationship with another idol is discovered, he decides maybe it’s time to break the taboo and show people it’s ok for idols to date. Instead, they find themselves caught in the midst of one media frenzy after another and struggle to keep their relationship as strong as it had been the past 2 years. Yoongi finds a self destructive way to cope, and it causes even more problems than it solves. As they fight for their relationship and their careers, they discover that sometimes, the only way to truly be free is to let go.
Pairing: idol!Yoongi x idol!OC
Warnings: nsfw, alcoholism, cheating, depression, anxiety, Yoongi goes through a bisexy ho phase, Yoongi is also in his alcoholic phase, post-military BTS
Previous chapter | Next chapter | Masterlist
Ch. 22: Healing
Yoongi has come a long way, but he knows it’s only the beginning. He’ll be going home where he will be left to try controlling himself in this unpredictable world. He’s confident though and ready to face those tests. The first test is coming a bit sooner than he expected as he looks at Hyeri’s pained face as he’s sitting next to her on the couch. She said they needed to talk about something but it’s not easy.
Hyeri is trying to find the words to say but she’s struggling. She hates confrontation and tough conversations, but she hates the painful unease in her heart even more. So she starts with the straight facts. She tells him the situation with his Black card. She tells him about the call she had with the attorney and all of the information he gave her about Chelsea. She tells him about her taking photos of his license and passport. She tells him everything.
Yoongi can only silently listen to her and try to quell his feelings of shame, guilt, and regret. She’s trying to remain neutral as she’s talking, but he can see in her eyes how much it pains her.
“Yoongi,” Hyeri says once she’s done telling him everything. “Will you be honest with me?”
“Of course,” he nods knowing it certainly won’t be easy.
“Why did you let her in your room?”
“I-“ he pauses trying to find the answer. Truth is he can’t remember much of anything. He’s only just now finding out that the woman’s name was Chelsea. “I don’t know.” He hangs his head in shame.
“Did you always bring people back to your room?” Hyeri’s tone is soft and unassuming. It’s not her intention to interrogate him or make him feel bad, she just wants the truth.
“No,” he replies. “Never. I…there was one that drove me to my hotel but that’s all. She-Chelsea is the only one that had been in my room.”
“Ok.” She takes a big gulp and opens her mouth hoping she doesn’t regret asking. “If they weren’t in your room then…where were you…doing…stuff…with them?” She instantly regrets it. She doesn’t want to know. She doesn’t need to know. Her heart is beating wildly out of control.
“Hyeri…” as much as she hates that she asked, he hates that he has to answer. “It was usually in a car or…wherever…”
“Wherever?” She tightens her fists briefly. She didn’t want to ask. She doesn’t want to know.
“Anywhere that was dark or secluded. I don’t know, Hyeri.” He huffs starting to get frustrated with himself. He feels like a piece of shit and even more so because he can’t even remember much of anything.
“Yoongi, how many were there?” She doesn’t know why she asked. It’s only getting worse and now she wants a drink to get herself to stop asking questions.
“Hyeri,” he sighs in exasperation. “I-I don’t know. I was so fucked up the whole time, I don’t know. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry for being a piece of shit. You deserve a better answer than what I’m giving you, but I truly can’t remember anything. I was so fucked up.” He’s trying to hold back tears but it’s nearing impossible.
“Yoongi,” she says softly.
“At least 6, maybe 7,” he spits out. “I don’t know, fuck! It was whoever offered at the right time.” He inhales sharply. “It was never about them. It was never about you. It was all me and I wish each and every single day I could take it all back. I didn’t want to face my feelings so I tried to be someone else, but I still made such a mess of everything and I regret it all.”
“Yoongi,” she repeats with a quiver. “Did you even think of me at all?”
“Yes!” He blurts in an explosion of tears. “Every fucking day! I know I told you to stop trying to talk to me, but every day that you didn’t broke my heart. I was so stupid, Hyeri. So stupid for trying to drink my feelings away. I wanted to die because I’ve been so terrible to you. You deserve the world, not a fuck up. You’re the greatest thing that has ever happened to me and every day I’m so grateful that you still stayed by my side. You don’t deserve any of what I put you through. I’m so sorry, Hyeri.”
“Yoongi,” she squeaks out past the knot in her throat. “I have to tell you something.”
There has never been a string of words that has caused him more anxiety, but he looks on through his tears hoping what she says next doesn’t break him.
“After you guys left for the start of the tour, I thought that I might have been pregnant.” Hyeri can already feel the bittersweet wave of emotions taking over as she reveals what she had truly been going through while he was across the world ignoring her.
“You what?” He asks in complete shock.
“I wasn’t going to tell you until I was sure. I wanted to tell you in person when you got back. I was scared, but at the same time I was so excited thinking of the possibility of having a baby with you. Then JJS confirmed the rumors of me and Kihyun and every little ounce of happiness I felt was gone. I was scared, Yoongi. You have no idea how scared I was.” She takes a breath as tears begin rolling down her face. “I wanted to say something to you but I had no idea how. I wrote and deleted so many messages that I wanted to send to you. I stared at my phone with my finger hovering over your name trying to call you but I couldn’t find the strength. I knew I had fucked up when Kihyun told me he talked to you. You should have heard it from me first and for that I will always be sorry. I was stressed out because you wouldn’t talk to me. I was more stressed out when I saw how bad you looked on tv. The worst feeling was thinking I’d lost the love of my life at a time when I should have been so excited about our future.”
“Hyeri, please,” Yoongi interrupts trying to get at least a brief moment to process what the hell she’s saying.
“Yoongi,” she continues. “I couldn’t sleep, eat, or breathe. I was hurting so much and I blamed myself for it all.”
“Hye-“
“I need to get this out,” she asserts. “You have to know. You have to know how I really felt during that time. You have to know how much shit was going through my head when you weren’t talking to me. You have to know that I was fearing for more than just our relationship. I thought I was about to lose everything, and when I would normally be able to lean on you, I couldn’t. I was scared and alone, Yoongi. That’s why I went out driving that night even though I was exhausted. I wanted to clear my mind, but I also was hoping I’d find the strength to drive off and never come back.”
“I’m so sorry,” he cries.
“It hurts me so much to know that you were with complete strangers, one of which a criminal, while I was home worried about my career, my relationship, and the possibility that I could be a mother.”
“Stop,” Yoongi chokes out. He can’t hear any more of what she’s telling him. His chest is twisted up inside and he’s afraid he may stop breathing if she says anything else.
“I’m not pregnant,” she reveals as the tears rapidly escape her eyes. “They tested me at the hospital after my accident and confirmed that I’m not actually pregnant. I was relieved but at the same time so sad. I was starting to get used to the idea of having a baby, but I knew it wasn’t the time. Not when I couldn’t even get you to talk to me, but I felt a change after that. I don’t know how to explain it, Yoongi, but after that I decided I didn’t want to be the same person anymore. I wanted to fight for myself and us, so I did. But I had no idea…”
“I’m so fucking sorry,” he says again with the guilt burning his skin through his flow of tears.
“If I had known at the time…I don’t think I ever would have forgiven you.” Hyeri breaks down and takes a moment to gather herself. “Actually, I hadn’t forgiven you at all. Nothing has ever hurt me so much in my entire life.”
“Hyeri,” Yoongi exasperates through sobs. He really wishes she would stop talking.
“I came here to prove to myself whether I could forgive you or not. I needed to see you and talk to you face to face to find out if I would truly be ok carrying on like this. I needed the truth from you to ease my mind.” She pauses with a sigh hoping Yoongi is doing as well mentally as he appears physically. She’s saying these things for her own healing, but she knows there’s a risk that it would make him feel bad and potentially cause him to crave a drink or anything else that may be self destructive.
“I’ve never been so disappointed and proud at the same time,” she continues. “I wanted to hate you when I got here, but when I saw you I felt like it was the beginning of our relationship again. Seeing you looking so healthy made my heart race like the first time you invited me over to your place.” She takes Yoongi’s hand and raises one corner of her mouth into slight smile. “Suddenly all I could think about was that first morning after I stayed the night I tried to make you breakfast but I couldn’t figure out how your fancy toaster worked,” she chuckles giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “Even now after everything you’ve just told me, my mind can’t help but go back to how our walk outside reminded me of the midnight walk we took around the parking garage that one time when we couldn’t sleep.”
“Hyeri,” he says softly trying to stop her again before he starts crying more. He’s managed to pull himself together a little but her trip down memory lane is starting to pull his emotions out again. “You just said so much.”
“I know, but I needed to, and now…I feel much better.”
“Do you?”
“Yeah,” she nods. “I’ve been holding on to that for so long and I shouldn’t have, but I felt like I had no one to go to because I didn’t have you. Even when I got you back you still weren’t you. I tried talking to Namjoon, but there’s no way I could tell him I thought I was pregnant.”
“Pause,” Yoongi says raising his hand. “Can we talk about that.”
“I told you I’m not actually pregnant.”
“But you thought you were? How? Why did you think that?”
“My period was late so I was worried. I only took the test to make myself feel better because I thought there wasn’t a chance I would be. Then it came back positive but I guess that was just a faulty test or something. You can breathe a sigh of relief,” she jokes.
“Right,” he chuckles. “I hate that I wasn’t there for you. I hate a lot about what I’d done, but if you give me the chance I promise I will never hurt you or leave you lonely again.”
“Can we start over?” She asks hopeful. “Can we pretend this is the first night I stayed the night with you?”
“Start over?” He smiles.
“Yeah,” she nods. “I mean I’m not saying we pretend like nothing has happened. I feel like the wounds are still fresh, but this can be our new beginning. A new chapter where we learn from our mistakes and communicate with each other better. Can we do that?”
“Of course we can,” he says reaching up to stroke her damp cheek. “I promise I’ll never put you through this shit again.”
“And I promise I won’t let anything get between us. No agencies telling me what to do. I want to just let go and finally have control of my life and career.”
“Then let go,” Yoongi encourages. During his time here he’s done a lot of letting go. There’s still a lot more for him to let go of, but he can see Hyeri holding things in holds her back from being the brave and confident person he knows she can be. “I want to show you something.”
Yoongi stands and reaches his hand out for hers. She isn’t sure what he suddenly wants to show her, but she stands putting her hand in his and following him outside. He takes her around to the back of the cabin where there’s nothing but trees as far as they can see.
“This is something Minho had me do one day,” Yoongi says looking out into the distance. “Everything you’ve been holding in, let it go.”
“Huh?” She questions tilting her head.
“He had me come out here and let everything out.” He looks at her confusion but carries on. “He told me to take a deep breath and feel everything I have in me. Then let it go when I exhale. It seemed stupid at first but it actually helped a lot.”
“Take a deep breath and let it go?” She asks.
Yoongi nods. Hyeri looks out to the tree filled landscape and slowly inhales a deep breath. She holds it a few seconds then lets out a heavy exhale. She does it once more then looks at Yoongi as if looking for him to tell her she did a good job.
“After everything you just told me?” Yoongi asks shaking his head with some amusement. “That’s all you can let out? Don’t hold back.”
Hyeri nods and takes another deep breath. She thinks of how much time she spent worried about Yoongi and his health. She exhales into a brief groan that barely startles a fly. Yoongi chuckles.
“You can do better than that,” he says. “You said you wanted to let go, so let go.”
This time she takes a much deeper breath and holds it. Everything she’s been holding on to goes flashing through her mind. The nights alone wondering if Yoongi would ever speak to her again. The fear she’s continuously carried about losing her career. The constant anxiety and depression JJS put her through. The invasion of privacy and never ending rumors. The fear that she’d finally get the call that Yoongi had drank himself to death. The absolute gut wrenching pain of knowing he was intimate with multiple people while she was at her lowest.
Every little thing came flying through her mind with that inhale, and she unleashed it with a long high pitched scream that gradually swelled into a deep roar. She held it until she had nothing left in her and collapsed into Yoongi’s waiting arms. She takes a moment to catch her breath and find her footing, then she turns to look at Yoongi.
“Why,” she starts. “Why does it feel so…freeing?”
“It works, doesn’t it?” He smiles seeing the delight in her face.
“I just let it all go like you said. Everything. I let it out into the universe.” She rises up on her toes and plants a big kiss on his lips. “I want to let everything out into the universe.”
“Go ahead,” he encourages, smiling at the way she’s bouncing with excitement.
“I’m going to fucking kill this new role!!” She shouts into the distance. “I’m going to make JJS pay!!”
“Hell yeah!” Yoongi cheers.
“I’m more than just…just a FUCKING BABY!!!” She shouts bouncing on her toes even more. “I’m in FFFFFFUCKING LOVE WITH MIN YOONGI and I don’t want to HIDE IT ANYMORE!!!!”
“Wow,” Yoongi whispers in amusement.
“This is awesome!” She cheers still bouncing with adrenaline. “This whole place is awesome!”
“Yeah,” he agrees. “I’ve enjoyed myself here. Kind of sad that this will be the last night.”
“Then let’s make it count,” Hyeri smiles.
She throws her arms around Yoongi’s neck and hits him with a big kiss. A big, lingering, passionate kiss that passes her overflowing electricity through his body. No kiss has ever felt quite as satisfying as this one. His arms hold her tight around her waist as if it’s the first time he’s ever held her. She was right, he feels like it’s their first time all over again. The first time his hands explored every ridge of her body. The first time his lips swallowed hers and his tongue tasted how sweet she is. The first time he lifted her petite frame and wrapped her legs around his waist, except instead of carrying her to his bed like the first time, he’s carrying her inside to the dining table. He sets her on the top of the table because he simply can’t go any further. He’s letting impatience win this time.
“I love you,” he whispers into her mouth as he lays her flat on her back.
“I love you more,” she smirks. One thing she knows he loves to do is prove that he loves her more whenever she dares to challenge him.
“Don’t test me,” he smirks sliding his hand under her shirt.
She lets out a soft exhale at the feeling of him gently caressing every inch of her skin. The wave of goosebumps that prickles her entire body when he removes her shirt reminds her of the first time he pulled her into an embrace. The butterflies erupting when he lightly kisses a trail from her neck to her belly button takes her back to the first time she laid before him completely naked and his lips praised every part of her as if she were a goddess. The chill of the air hitting her erect nipples when he removes her bra doesn’t last long before he glides his warm tongue across each one.
He’s seen her like this many times. He’s marveled at her beauty while undressing her numerous times. It’s not the first time he’s taken his time to undress them both then stand over her wondering how he got so lucky. But it feels like the first time for them both. This euphoric build up of feelings and emotions mixing together when he bends down to kiss her softly as he teases her.
With a slow, gentle glide Hyeri exhales as if all of the pain she’d gone through were released in that single breath. She reaches for the back of his neck and pulls him closer to her. She needs to feel his skin against hers as his hips move to a steady rhythm. For every breath she releases, he feels more determined to love her the way he’s always felt she deserves. He’s more determined to make sure she’ll never regret giving him another chance. Every thrust is burning with determination. Every baritone moan is sharp with thunder. Every bit of salty skin his tongue tastes feeds his starving heart.
“I love you,” he growls.
The deep rumble of his voice is enough to make her hold a grip around him like she never has before. Her love is about to explode out of every part of her body and there’s no way she can stop it. There’s no way she wants to stop it. She breathes her love into him every time his hips connect with her pelvis. She’s so close. She’s so in love.
“Yoon…” she squeaks as she arches her back and digs her fingers into his back leaving red marks along his pale skin.
Yoongi holds her tighter chasing the release they’re both so close to. He wishes she’d never stop leaving marks on his back. He wishes she’d never stop calling his name. All of the sounds in the world could not compare to the sound of Hyeri moaning his name as she loses all control and melts underneath him. It powers him to his own climax that hits him so hard he has to pull Hyeri up to his chest and hold her tight until every bit of his love is released.
He peppers her lips with a few kisses then pauses just to look at her. Her love drunk face pulls a satisfied smirk from him. He’s never been so undoubtedly in love since he discovered music. He’ll do the dumbest shit for her, but he’ll be sure to never hurt her again.
#bts#bts au#bts fanfic#bts fic#cross posted on ao3#bts smut#angst#tw depression#bts fluff#tw alcoholism#bts angst#min yoongi#Suga#yoongi x oc#Suga x oc#yoongi au#suga au#yoongi angst#suga angst#yoongi fluff#suga fluff#yoongi fanfic#suga fanfic#yoongi smut#suga smut#yoongi fic#suga fic#established relationship#idol au#Yoongi
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Tamsand is so canon to me that i forget they technically arent canon. Sjm wrote some of the strangest, most homoerotic lines and scenes between those two and im just a bystander reading like 🧍🏻🧍🏻
#acotar#a court of thorns and roses#tamlin#pro tamlin#tamsand#THEY ARE SO ???#I cant find the post now but someone posted a sc of this one line#it was from rhysand talking to feyre about tamlin (99% sure) and he said smth along the lines of who do you think taught him the finer -#aspects of sword fighting and females#and that brings up SO MANY FUCKING QUESTIONS???#And the way tamlin still has those illyrian daggers ???#rhysand#sarah j maas
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love this part of my life where the things that are difficult but challenging and good for me are things i can stop and skip and halfass, but the things that are difficult and painful and pointless are the things i have to live with no matter what
#school and home life are too much to handle so i skip school#because i cant kick my parents out#and appartments cost money#and i dont have a car to sleep in#i could maybe try to dig up my old childhood tent but that brings a whole host of logistic questions + im scared and it's difficult#anyway. it's fine. it's cool. i just have to hold on until i graduate high shcool and then ?????#find a way to live without my parents money OR scholarships#all for some nebulous end goal of having a job (the only field i'm interested in and good at offers two options:#to become an academic#or to become a freelancer#i do not have the fortitude to be an academic and being a freelancer is convoluted and pays like shit)#i might've spent 24h without my parents occasionally if i spent the night at a friend's place once or twice recently#but besides that the last time i've gone 48h without my parents was when the mental health center organised a week camp uhhhh...#two summers ago#incredibly good for my mental health as you can see#god i remember like... years ago. around 13yo maybe or 14. a guy. i dont know if he was a mental health professional or like social cases#but anyway he told me ''you're too afraid to be away from mommy and daddy'' and it made me want to rip his eyes out#several other people have implied or suggested that too over the years and it's just#am i too dependant on my parents? yes. will it be difficult to take my independance? yes.#does it means i don't both rationally recognize and feel that this is really fucking unhealthy and hindering for me#on top of being unpleasant?#FUCK NO#i want out my guy. there's just not many opportunities for an already mentally ill teenager#now that i'm eighteen i have to grapple with the logistical problems of the money needed and how to continue my education#and im sure a billion more if i start searching a little more seriously#perhaps i should kill myself that way i don't cost anyone any more money#broadcasting my misery#vent
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haha oh no im definitely not at all disturbed by the prevalence of leftists on all platforms who are loudly 'anti-genocide' when it comes to the palestinian cause (and a couple others at best :3c) yet the only time ukraine [ʊkrɐˈjinɐ] leaves their mouths is in critique, in stark comparison to the former or in complaint about their (american) government sending aid.
at first what i saw often was pointing out the differences in western media framing [ukraine vs palestine], and that's fair (until the words and the agenda of western journalists are used to paint, as a whole, ukrainians who have been actively going through genocide as some kind of white supremacists hogging the blanket of global attention when they kinda just want to live and have the rights to their own land, culture, names and families)
but no one is even caring to do that anymore, today bitches just invent metaphorical scenarios and people to get mad at and to throw an entire ethnos away because wahhhh i decided that you care for X but not for Y!!!.... all while doing the exact thing they are condemning. the exact absolute same and they don't even hide it but do lack the self-awareness to realise
#'ohh i saw white people still go out to rally for ukraine' yeah have you considered they are ukrainian or have ukrainian loved ones or uh#simply have humanity in their heart to care about several humanitarian tragedies in the world?#this is both aimed at a post i saw on here and at SEVERAL. MANY. twitterians with a thousand palestine flags all over their accounts spewing#misinformation hate and sometimes straight up russian propaganda tactics because they're this fucking insane#i don't care about sounding nice anymore by the way. i know my heart lies in the right place and i have the capacity to care about more than#one ongoing genocide of indigenous peoples#removed incidents of bad actors having a ukrainian flag on their backpack doing hateful shit does not somehow okay dismissing a genocide you#so vehemently claim to oppose. they are not ukrainians who are getting bombed on the daily for years#i saw a very lovely 🍉🕊️ lady denying holodomor and using literal russian talking points while patting herself on the back for being such#a good person. i saw one of the most popular leftie accs on twitter be actively anti-ukraine and using slurs. luckily we mass reported them#and they're gone#i'm no longer being careful with my words because i don't want to be misconstrued. i know my values go beyond twitter and tumblr#if i catch you in any way undermining the genocide of ukrainians or only bringing it up to point fingers and bitch i am blocking you forever#don't care how far this post might go cuz of ppls questionable use of the search function. and i didn't care to censor anything#like. masks off. just block me if this is your rhetoric
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would you rather the devils are perennial cup contenders but never actually win with this group or they win once and not again for another 20+ years
Win once and not again for another twenty years.
I simply must see this core lift a Cup and I simply must see their shenanigans during a parade in Newark.
Like have we ever seen Nico simply let loose? Imagine. Imagine.
I also just personally need to see the Hischier to Hughes to Hughes Cup pass. With pit stops to Bratt and Meier and Hamilton along the way amongst others.
Like you know this group would absolutely rock a party. BFF getting down? Haulzy finally winning a Cup? NATHAN BASTIAN. Just Nate.
Getting emotional thinking about Nemo and Holtzy and Merce with the Cup.
family
Need to see this group fucking lose their minds in front of everyone especially me.
So I’ll do one Cup win for this group and I’ll wait another twenty for another one. Please and thank you.
#New Jersey Devils#Devils#Ask#Text#Question#devilssacrament#I think a lot about this team lifting a Cup#like I imagine Nico would cry#I imagine he would just lay down on the ice and cry#and all the boys would like on top of him#I think about the Hugheses passing the Cup to each other#to Jack saying once that what if they’re not the guys but THEY ARE THE GUYS#think about Jesp and Nico years on a team where they were overlooked and now they’re stars#think about Dougie being the first one to take a chance on this team#and now he ended up being the catalyst to bringing in so many big names Timo Pally#thinking about our young core Nemo Lukey Holtzy Merce Bahler Johnny#Haulzy finally finding a home#CAPTAIN NICO HISCHIER WINNING A CUP#fuck I’m making myself cry#yeah it has to be that this group wins the once I need to see THIS group win
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guys stop liking that post i'm gonna get in trouble again
#delete later#this is a silly post btw#not to be that bitch that always brings up old drama to stir the pot but i'm SO confused like i have so many questions and most likely none#will get an actual answer. like#why ?#how ?#who ?#where ?#what the fuck ?
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I would like to know exactly how luke asking annabeth to run away with him went down.
#annabeth🥺#it's sad to think about how it'll be so much harder for annabeth to unpack and heal from that relationship bc he's dead#it's hard enough to come to terms with someone you love/held in high esteem hurting you so deeply#but she's also grieving him too so it's even harder to hold him accountable to herself and recognizing the good and the bad#she may struggle to not romanticize the memory of him#sorting through what about their relationship was pure and genuine and what was fueled by other stuff#both of their trauma really played into it in some of the worst ways...#but to even recognize how her trauma played into it she'd have to identify what her trauma even is and how it's affected her life#it's really complex and difficult work#and bc he's gone she'll never get to question him on stuff like what he was thinking at certain points and why#so certain things will never get the best closure#ugh it's all so fucked up#MAYBE SOMETHING WE COULD HAVE EXPLORED IN HOO RICHARD???? BUT NO#and it would have been perfect too bc she'd also be dealing with issues caused by both of her parents triggered by the MoA quest#like her mother's conditional love#and trauma from her mortal family#and her fear of spiders relates to both of these things bc it's a phobia that's passed down from her mom's actions#so she's being punished for something she's not responsible for and also being burdened with a quest simply for being her mother's daughter#and it also represents her mortal family's neglect bc they ignored her needs and all that...#AND THEN the only person she's received actually pure and good unconditional love from was snatched from her for 6 months#and the MoA quest could have been a way to confront some of these fears and wounds...so she's a little stronger by tartarus which#should bring out the best in her and the worst in percy#and then he can work through some stuff too down there#HoO could have been a journey for them where they're undone and then healed#bc at the end of everything they have the medicine to literally everything which is real love (which they have for each other intensely)#the rant I could go on about this...I have so many thoughts about what HoO should have been. maybe one day#annabeth chase#luke castellan#✏️
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doing the equivalent of gripping something intensely hard then forcing myself to let it go every time i see something about the stupid fandom drama i got pulled into earlier this year
#nothing bad ppl just... bringing up its existence...AGAIN......#every time i see it i wanna go on a rant for a billion years but the worst place to do that would be on tumblr#I rly don't wanna see anyone talking abt it unless it's to criticize the ppl who started the false accusations or to apologize to us#for the harassment#Buster: You Really Think Someone Would Do That? Just Go On the Internet and Tell Lies?#anyway I cant believe ive had the misfortune of interacting w some1 who has to b vindictive toward others to quell their own insecurity#to accuse us of racism because he wasn't allowed to be in a personal friends discord group...#and then saying that we didn't wanna let him in bc he wasn't a 'popular' account? 1. he has way more followers than some ppl in the server#hence why he was able to get so many ppl to attack us#2. he can't keep his own story straight. First we're racist then we're ableist then we gatekeep popularity?#Dude... we don't like you because you're vindictive and take minor slights way too personally...hence...everything that fucking happened#anyway idk who reported him but i thank them for it and i hope that was worth their account getting suspended for getting paid to harass us#to anyone outside of all this reading this mess... please question the validity of ppls accounts if they don't offer concrete proof#and the only proof is based on assuming that certain actions COULD POSSIBLY line up to the accusations#this includes if multiple people have the same accusation without proof because that's EXACTLY WHAT HAPPENED#except it was dumber because several of their accusations literally contradicted themselves#wowww people apologized and informed their audience about possible microagressions once they were informed. they MUST be racist!#and if you don't want to dig into it that deep..then by all means mind your own damn business before you join in on someone else's witchhun
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