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nightswithkookmin · 2 years

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Hi goldy, Are you ok? I dont know if you have mental space for this topic right now. This is related to what Jk said in his proof collectors addition , about he not ever extend hand to anybody but his hand was held by others. Do you think that there is taker and giver in the relationship and can those roles be fullfilling for both parties? And can that be change in persons personality (Role exchange) ?Just a question for general discussion and not limited to jikook.

He said that?

If he really said that then he just admitted he's toxic

Welcome to the toxic gang JK. I'm the co-captain😌

Any relationship based on a giver/taker dynamic is a rather toxic abusive dysfunctional dynamic.

I get dragged for filth when I talk about these things but lord knows my eye be twitching and shit when it's staring at me right in the face, calling my name

The " I'm greedy" the "not wishing friends and coworkers a happy birthday on the internet while they do so consistently for him" the "not returning texts and calls but pouting when that energy is returned to him" the "going hulk on others for flirting but doing whatever the fuck he wants with whomever"

Chilee let me not drag him today cos Jimin's birthday is coming and I need to kiss his ass in hopes he posts something cos I don't want another heartbreak October🤧

The dragging will come later💀

JK YOU DOING GREAT SWEETY let's see some ass😁

Give/take relationships creates trauma bonds when one person is doing all the giving and another is doing all the taking.

You're putting all the emotional labor on the other person or persons while you cross legs on the emotional table and do nothing at all. You gonna sit there and watch them break their backs carrying all the emotional load and doing all the work in the relationship like sir that's not a good look.

Healthy relationships don't work that way. But I'm sure he's just exaggerating lol. When they use language like this it's often a show of humility and their own way of acknowledging they have to put in more effort because in their heads they receive more than they give.

Jimin uses similar language as well.

But truth is, they do too much for the internet 🙄

They sacrifice a lot of their autonomy, censor themselves, have to be careful what they post on the internet, watch their weight all the time, can't pause and enjoy their youth and their life and have to indulge in work work work till they are too old to keep gyrating on stage at which point we all would have moved on from them onto the next big thing.

On a personal level however, do be doing too little for eachother sometimes 😩😩😩😩😩

We always take the people closest to us for granted cos we stop desiring their validation and crave it from others.

Ladies, if your partner isn't doing too much for you but is willing to go all out for others that don't even mean much to them go back to the drawing board and work out how to make them want validation from you again💀

Take a page from Jimin's book and love bomb them, shower them with praises and compliments till they get complacent and then stop when you want to drive them crazy😈

It takes a lot of emotional strength or lack thereof to be able to give give give and receive so little in return.

And people who often put themselves in this position are those who are afraid to be the center of attention or to receive love. They don't feel worthy of the love they recieve. They say they want love but really are just scared to be loved and would rather be the ones giving love rather than receiving love. As long as you give them the bare minimum of affection they'll stick to you and work their bones to powder to prove themselves worthy of your love.

They are also the ones often with the anxious attachment style who very often want their partner by their side always and start checking their phones two seconds to see if their partner called.

They often attract people with avoidant attachments who come off as cold and closed off and hard to reach emotionally.

Wherever have I come across a duo like this

I think a healthy relationship take work and both parties must give in equal proportions, take in equal proportions and put in the same amount of effort so it's not lopsided dynamics.

What he is describing here is a codependent relationship dynamic and I think I've talked extensively about that aspect of their relationship in jikook.

And if I start talking again I would be dragging Jimin right along side him for also giving giving giving and not putting his own needs first most times in the name of kumbaya. Making excuses for him talking about he's not good at expressing himself emotionally- NO. SIR. YOU JUST DICKMATIZED.

And Tae too will be there JKsplaining away💀

B-b but he's cute look at his cheeks🥺

NOPE. YOU'RE TRAUMA BOUND TO HIM.

Stockholms I say. STOCKHOLMS. 🤣

Like dude won't even return calls or texts or even try to put in effort to make things work because he has all these boundaries in place- isn't this what Tae complained about in ITS? JK not meeting him half way and treating him like a hyng rather than friend? Eventually Tae stopped trying too cos he petty af too and their relationship went 🃏🎭📉 flatline.

And they'll turn around and ask "we were so close. What happened?" What do you mean what happened. You both petty is what. Free us😆

Jk is either very self aware or he's just a self deprecating humble brag. Cos he does have his strengths. Not gonna lie, he has such an amazing personality and he doesn't say much but he's one of the kindest idols ever in Kpop. Yet he doesn't talk about that. Part of his show, don't tell personality I guess.

I just think he has a different way of expressing his affection and love for others. And where he lacks in daily minute effort he makes up for it in grand sweeping gestures and grand declarations of love.

Relationships are about compromises too. If he doesn't pick up your calls but would rather show up to your door when you call it's a compromise and equally a great way to show effort and show you he cares.

This reminds me of JM saying JK never comes when he calls but two seconds later JK was on his door knocking, "because JM called." 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

He didn't post online on JMs birthday but showed up to help him celebrate his birthday on live.

This is why I don't dwell too much on "JK'S FLAWS" as some people will say. He is not flawed. He's different. The way you see him in one dynamic is not at all how he is in another dynamic or even outside the group.

He may come across as a 'push over softie' in one dynamic but I promise you he will break you in half if you fuck with him on the streets.

Just because he is not putting in the effort in one dynamic don't mean he does the same in his other relationships or that that is his pattern of behavior.

Most times, you can't generalise his behavior and say well he is like that with everybody- the way people tend to generalise JMs behavior to say he is like that with everyone.

He's not 'kind' to everybody but he's not mean to everybody too. Know what I mean?

That portrait he made for Hobi on his birthday is worth more to me than any post he's ever made on the internet cos that's peak effort and speaks volumes about the care and thought he put into giving to others.

Recently, me and my gf fought because she insists on sending me good morning texts every morning- and she does this consistently when we are apart. Its sweet and all but that's about all the effort she makes when we are apart- when I'll rather speak to her at the end of her day to know how her day went, what she did so I know know what her emotional needs are and meet them or express my love for them by comforting them or encouraging them.

But sis just thinks that's unnecessary cos she's tired at the end of her day and just wanna go to bed and talk to me first thing in the morning when she don't feel like the world is on her shoulders.

Problem is, it's her start of the day and the end of mine sometimes and she is in a hurry to go to work so she can't really say much and sometimes she's forgotten what she did the previous day🙄

I feel disconnected from her cos my love language is knowing a person intimately. The more I know about you the more I feel emotionally attached to you. But that's not her love language cos she's an Aries. Now we are at an impasse.

Compromises are important because what works for one person may not work for another. And it's admirable the way Jungkook customizes his relationship with others based on their unique personalities.

Hobi is not Jimin. He may get away with certain things with Suga but Jimin will put his foot on his neck if he tries it with him. They both very competitive with each other for example but that dynamic is absent with other members.

But at the baseline, i think he's a kind and generous person.

He's out there sending trucks, buying designer clothes, expensive jewelry for his friends and just look at the way he rushes to comfort Jimin when JM is down like no please he's a catch🤧

Y'all saw him and Jimin on JMs birthday last year? Came like Zeus in a flash of a light when JM said he needed him!

In ON:E concert in October when he saw JM crying his eyes out? That little hand grabbing. Pleaseee!

ROSEBOWL ANY ONE? Aaaaaaahhhhh JUNGKOOK!

T'is teww much my chest finna explode

I WISH SOMEONE WILL LOVE ME THE WAY JUNGKOOK LOVES ANYTHING REALLY.

I want to be his tattoos, his gcfs, his music sheet, his Playlist, bam, Jimin.

PLEASE THAT MAN A TEN. A SOLID TEN.

Plus, I think they've all grown so much over the years, matured and unlearned so much. They've come such a long way if Tae Kook were even willing to sit and talk and address their issues like adults and JM can hear I love you from a member without cringing- he tries lmho.

Show me someone with a heart of Gold. If not Jungkook. When he loves he loves deeply and with his whole chest. I think that trumps any perceived negative quality he thinks he has. He needs to be gentle on himself.

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dilxcs · 3 years

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🔖 writings and such - haikyuu scenario

when they have a crush on u, but u don’t know it [pt.1] [pt.2]

how i think the haikyuu characters would act when they have a crush on u, but make it ooc cause i’m secretly a sap

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characters : suna rintarō, akaashi keiji, oikawa tōru, miya osamu and kozume kenma

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suna rintarō

it’s pretty obvious to figure out that he has a crush on u, if u know where to look for. in this case u don’t, so he has a bit of free reign. the miya twins tease him a lot every time u walk by and greet them, cause suna be blushing a bit. like it’s not really that noticeable, but it’s definitely there. they also comment about the fact that they can’t have a conversation with him, cause mans be on his phone responding to ur messages or (stalking) looking at ur socials and liking every post/pic. he isn’t someone who responds quickly to messages, except when it’s u. if it’s u, then u can expect a reply seconds after u send him a message. like he’s so chatty with u on text and he even at times calls u on facetime, just cause he’s bored or he will use an excuse of not understanding his homework and needing help. he also likes to pick on u or make fun of u in a playful matter, just to see u laugh or smile and he calls u ‘bubs’ or ‘squirt’ most of the time

akaashi keiji

another one who didn’t realize he has a big ass crush on u and all of his team members figured it out before him (even bokuto), he’s happy that u didn’t figure it out tho. he remembers every single details about u and he actually loves it when he gets to learn more about u every day. it could be something completely random, like mentioning that ur afraid of owls since that one particular episode of atla (this may be self-indulgent lmao) and he will remember that shit, even bringing it up sometimes. he also can’t keep his eyes off u and he tends to stare at u quite a bit. if u catch him tho, he would give u a soft smile and a wink while diverting his gaze to something else. u can easily spot his blush tho. and like iwaizumi he will help u with anything and i mean ANYTHING. like u can mention ur really craving some strawberry milk and he will give it to u the next class he sees u

oikawa tōru

mans would fix himself up even more around u, like ur whole existence intimidates him (in a good way, don’t worry), he just thinks ur absolutely gorgeous and he doesn’t wanna get left behind (even tho he knows he ain’t ugly lmao). he wouldn’t be all that secretive about his crush on u, but he also doesn’t scream it from the roof yk. he likes that ur different than his fangirls and he appreciates that u always listen to him. that’s why he conveys some of his secrets to u as well as problems he faces due to being captain of the vbc and the high expectations he has for himself. he asks u for advice and truly takes it to heart, something he wouldn’t do with others since he’s so fucking stubborn most of the time. he also reveals personal details about himself to u, things only those who are the closest to him knows (like the third years)

miya osamu

osamu tries to hide his crush on u, but with a brother like atsumu and a friend like suna, it’s almost impossible to keep it hidden. fortunately for him, ur the only oblivious one. ‘tsumu tried to set u two up by inviting u to come hang out with him, ‘samu and suna, but when u we’re waiting with ‘samu u got a message from both ‘tsumu and suna that they ‘couldn’t make it’. ‘samu got so fucking nervous. he kept stuttering and stumbling over his words, a habit that keeps on repeating every time he talks to u. he asks u a lot, like A LOT of questions. not only because he doesn’t wanna embarrass himself further, but also because he truly wants to know more about u. and every time he finds something u have in common with each other, he won’t hesitate to bring this up

kozume kenma

honestly i don’t blame ya for not noticing his big crush on u, mans is very secretive about it and only kuroo knows by accident. the only way to decipher if he likes u or not is if u focus on his non-verbal communication. for example : he doesn’t do this intentionally, actually he doesn’t even notice that he does this, but he mirrors ur physical behavior. so like every time when u two are with each other (be it only the two of u or with friends) and ur bouncing ur leg, he actually does the same without realizing it. like sakusa, he also avoids unnecessary contact with others, but with u he can’t seem to keep a distance. he likes to stand next to u or near u and when u talk he will put down his game console to give u his undivided attention

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[a/n] : omg pt.1 of this got so much love, i was literally speechless holy shit :0 tysm y’all !! i hope u’ll like this one as much as the first ! u know the drill by now, didn’t proofread shit :>

#haikyuu!!#haikyū!!#haikyuu fluff #haikyuu fandom #haikyuu scenarios #suna rintarō #suna x reader #akaashi keiji #akaashi x reader #oikawa tōru #oikawa x reader #miya osamu #miya osamu x reader #kenma kozume #kozume kenma #kenma x reader #senn writes 🖋

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arvandus · 3 years

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Icarus (Overhaul x F!Reader)

Ah yes, once again so late on this. This one gave me grief because the characters kept deviating from what I had originally planned. >.< But I worked through it, and here we are.

This is for the BNHarem's “On The Job” Collab for May, which you can find here.

Also, don’t judge my super simple title headings for my fics 😂 I always do these late at night when I should be asleep, so generic background with fancy text is the best I got to offer.

Trigger Warnings: 18+ ONLY! 1 instance of aggression/abuse (hair grabbing/pulling - nonsexual), unprotected sex (fun in fiction, dumb IRL), mutual masturbation, overstimulation, bondage via quirk abuse, degradation...

I think that about covers it. Once again, I’m terrible at TWs so let me know if I missed anything or if anything is inaccurate. 😬 I just kinda write what I want and don’t really think about the labels when I’m doing it.

Pairing: Overhaul x F!Reader

Word Count: 8281

You hadn’t meant to get caught. Really, you weren’t even sure what had possessed you to do it in the first place. Desperation? Horniness? Stupidity?

All of the above?

All you knew was that it was a poor decision brought forth by the gradual culmination of a single annoying, unavoidable fact: you were disgustingly, shamefully, sinfully attracted to Kai Chisaki.

You weren’t exactly sure how or when it started. There was no “aha” moment, no “big bang” of desire. Instead, it was subtle, gradually coating your unsuspecting mind like layers of sediment. A shiver down your spine when he spoke your name. The quickening of your pulse at the briefest of eye contact. And the ever-growing presence of intrusive, curious thoughts.

Like his hands. You always noticed them, the white of his gloves drawing your attention like a beacon whenever he was within eyesight. They were dangerous hands, deadly weapons that you’d seen in action firsthand. They were a thing to be feared and avoided. But some strange part of you couldn’t help but wonder... what did they feel like? You imagined they’d be soft and perfectly manicured, oddly delicate for such a violent man; gentle hands packed with destructive power.

Or his lips. They were always covered by his mask. You never, ever saw him without it. You imagined what your name would look like on them as he spoke, how they’d feel on your skin. Would his lips also be soft? How about his kisses? Would they be cautious and controlled, or rough and hungry?

It didn’t help that he was, in his own way, very attractive. Just like how his dangerous hands were hidden within innocent white gloves, he was the devil hidden behind a pretty face. A sharp, beautiful jawline. Smooth porcelain skin. A crown of auburn red hair, closely cropped, but still long enough to run fingers through.

You bet that part of him was soft too.

The one part of him that wasn’t soft were his eyes. They were beautiful, certainly… as gold as Heaven’s gates and framed in long, perfect lashes. But they lacked the warmth of Heaven. Instead, they spoke of cold arrogance. And if you stared into them long enough, you could see a barely contained disgust lurking beneath their haughty exterior.

The disgust didn’t bother you, not anymore. Everyone disgusted Chisaki, and everyone in the Shie Hassaikai knew it. He even made his closest confidants, some he’d known since childhood, wear masks so he wouldn’t share the same air with them.

He had you wear a mask too, of course. Simple and white, it covered only your lower face, much like his own. That much you were grateful for, considering some of the masks you’d seen others wearing. Your only explanation for the slightly less coverage was that your secretarial position made you a frequent point of contact for those outside of the organization. You handled incoming calls, visitors, and scheduled meetings between Chisaki and his affiliates. No doubt he wanted to ensure you were making a good impression while still operating within his mysophobic requirements.

First impressions were everything to Kai. Even more so since he took the Boss’s place under dubious circumstances. Still, his long-held reputation for extremist thinking and violence preceded him, and not everyone was in support of his unexpected promotion. As a result, many people within the organization parted ways following Chisaki’s rise to power... and soon after they mysteriously went missing, never to be heard from or located again. You had no doubt that it was Chisaki tying up loose ends by sealing loose lips. After all, they say the mouth is the source of disaster. And Chisaki valued confidentiality above all else.

The message he sent was clear: adapt or die. When given such colorful options, the choice on whether to go or stay became a simple one.

So, you adapted. As long as you followed orders, kept your eyes down and your mouth shut, you were safe. After all, it was better to be the right hand of the devil than to be in his path. The only person you really had to fear was Chisaki himself, and you knew him well enough by now to know how to stay on his good side.

And all in all, it really wasn’t all that bad. Sure, you had to orchestrate the occasional clean-up when he disposed of someone who displeased him. But that wasn’t much different than what you’d dealt with when you worked for the Boss, either. Sure, the aftermath was messier and it happened far more often. But violence was violence, and when you worked with the Yakuza long enough, you got used to it. And despite the odd working conditions and ever-present undertone of danger, you remained good at your job. As such, Chisaki brooked no complaint. He tolerated you, and you tolerated him. Interactions were brief, words exchanged were polite and respectful even though they lacked warmth. But it was just a job, right? You didn’t need warmth.

So why did you feel so dissatisfied? Why did you constantly feel that something was missing, a longing you couldn’t entirely describe?

The need only ever waned when Chisaki was in your presence, whether it was to discuss upcoming meetings or simply passing by your desk to get to his office. The dissatisfaction would melt away into a warmth that extended deep into your fingertips whenever the cold-hearted man bothered to look you in the eyes. And when he wasn’t looking at you? It was like being thrown into a winter blizzard, the aching cold returning to pull the corners of your mouth down into a silent frown.

You craved his attention. It was shameful and pathetic and you could only imagine the scorn he’d give you if he knew, but you didn’t care. To be graced with the attention of a man who cared for no one brought a different kind of satisfaction. The rare treats of attention Chisaki did grant you, whether intended or not, scratched an itch that only he could scratch.

As time passed, the intrusive thoughts became more frequent, evolving from odd curiosities to shameless lust. They began to occupy your dreams, forcing you awake with a hot ache between your legs. That was when you really began to realize how in deep you were. It wasn’t just a simple “attraction.” You wanted him. At first you tried to deny and ignore, suppress and excuse. After all, this was Overhaul. Wanting him was like wanting the sun in your hand, and just as dangerous. Apparently though, it made little difference to your hormone-addled brain. It didn’t help that the secretive, forbidden thoughts brought their own special addictive flavor of the taboo.

You began to act different in front of him. Nothing too obvious, of course. After all, you knew Chisaki wasn’t the type to indulge in desperate women. To be honest, you weren’t even sure Chisaki indulged in women at all. All you did know was that whenever women tried to gain his favor through flirtation, Chisaki quickly and harshly shut it down.

So, it was little things... the extra second to release a paper from your grip after he’d grabbed it, the lingering of a glance. You didn’t so much change the style of your attire – skirts and blouses were already the norm for your position – but you changed the colors. A blouse that matched the purple feathery softness of his jacket, golden jewelry that matched his eyes. Little messages waiting in secret to be picked up, yet subtle enough that they could be excused as nothing more than coincidence. It was risky, but the thrill of the game gave you an outlet for your roiling feelings. In the end though, it made no difference. There was nothing about you that seemed important enough to turn Chisaki’s head more than was professionally necessary.

Which is where the state of things were when you found yourself alone in his office one evening. You had thought he was still working at the time. You’d stepped away to shred some incriminating documents and burn the scraps in the kiln outside. It was your last task for the day, so you’d entered Chisaki’s office to announce your departure for the evening. Except when you entered, the space was empty, with all traces of him gone. No papers remained on his desk. His gloves and plague mask were gone. With an annoyed huff you had stood there, bothered that you’d missed him.

Quietly, you walked to his desk, and gently caressed the mahogany wood. It was immaculate of course, free of dirt and fingerprints. You knew it would be because he cleaned his space every evening before he left, and you cleaned it every morning before he arrived.

You sighed as you retrieved the paper towels and cleaning solution. No harm in giving it a second scrub to save yourself some time tomorrow morning. It wasn’t like anyone would be foolish enough to enter this space without Chisaki present anyway.

You should have just left it at that. But as you walked around his desk to wipe the surface with the damp towel, your bare legs just below your skirt bumped his chair. Soft leather, still warm from where he had sat, greeted your exposed skin.

That should have been your first clue.

But your mental alarms never sounded. Instead, you figured you had just missed him.

You should have just left, but you didn’t. The warmth on the chair was enticing you. He was gone, right? Left for the evening. What harm could it do to indulge just a little bit? With your heart pounding with excitement, you carefully sat down in the warm leather. Immediately the scent of Chisaki’s body wash and clean clothes cradled you.

That should have been your second clue.

But you were already too wrapped up in your enjoyment. You relished in the sensations, leaning back as you closed your eyes. It was the closest you’d ever felt to him, as if his very presence was there with you. Your desire purred deep in your gut at receiving its first nibble of satisfaction. If you closed your eyes, you could pretend he was there, holding you.

Your kept your eyes closed as your imagination began to take root like weeds in your mind, making your skin feel hot. Your fingers grazed the inside of your thigh, dipping beneath your skirt while your heart pounded. What if those were his fingers? The vision combined with the sensations of touch and smell were delicious, and you wanted more. You dragged the pads of your fingertips up even higher, your arm starting to push your skirt up with it. Your legs parted easily, as you let out a shaky breath.

You shouldn’t be doing this. Not here of all places. But there was something so sinfully satisfying about it, the danger only heightening the sensations. After all, the reward was only as great as the risk it took to earn it. And this was the highest risk you could take, short of literally throwing yourself at him. Besides, it wasn’t like your fantasies were ever going to come true. Maybe satisfying yourself - right here, right now – would be enough to finally give you the peace of mind you needed.

And dear God, did you need it. You could already feel the heat growing in your loins, the moisture dampening your panties. Your fingers finally brushed against the warm cotton fabric covering your sex and you let out a soft gasp.

What Chisaki didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. He was gone, right? And you were going to clean up any traces of your little visit before you left. He’d be none the wiser.

Your fingers slipped beneath your underwear to meet the hot, slick flesh of your folds, your clit already plump and ready with arousal. You knew it wouldn’t take you long to cum, but you wanted to enjoy this, to savor it as the only opportunity you’d get. You certainly weren’t going to do this again.

So, you teased yourself, fingertips softly dragging slow circles around your entrance before dipping in. A shaky moan left your lips, the quickening of your breaths matching the racing of your heart. In and out you dragged your fingers, relishing in your sleek, sensitive walls, occasionally breaking your rhythm to spread your juices over your swollen labia. You revisited your clit and stifled your moan with a bite of your lip as you began to slowly massage it with practiced skill. It felt so fucking good. The scent of yourself mingled with the scent of Chisaki, and you spread your legs wider, leaning back farther into the seat. You could feel the surge beginning to swell, and you knew it would be soon. Vivid fantasies danced on the inside of your eyelids, and you were fully enthralled, fingers skimming fast circles over your swollen bud as your other hand began to massage your breast through your blouse.

“Fuuuuuckk....Kai....” You moaned.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

The familiar voice made you jump so hard, you nearly fell out of the chair as your eyes flew wide open.

There was Kai Chisaki, staring down at you from across the desk – his desk. And there were you, sitting in his chair, spread eagle.

Your breath was knocked out of you and you felt light-headed with panic. You caught sight of the shoji screen behind him, wide open to the evening air.

FUCK. Of course. You forgot to check outside. He must have stepped out for some fresh air before returning to his office.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. You hadn’t heard him enter. How long had he been standing there??

“I asked you a question.” The man seethed through his plague mask. His gloved hands were clenched into angry fists, and his eyes... eyes that you’d always craved to see you... well, they saw you now, and you were terrified.

Immediately, you closed your legs and stood up from his chair. Your mouth babbled soundlessly before your voice finally came, tight and small.

“I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry.”

“I didn’t ask for an apology.” He hissed.

“I know, I’m sorry.” You blubbered.

“Come. Here.” Chisaki demanded.

You obeyed, struggling to adjust your skirt as you approached him from around his desk.

“I didn’t tell you to touch your clothes.” His tone was quiet and constrained yet sharp as a razor’s edge, each word uttered with meticulous precision.

You stared at him in shock as you slowly removed your hands from your rumpled clothing. His eyes raked over you, top to bottom, and left you feeling... exposed.

“Look at you...” he grumbled. “Disgusting.”

His mask was unnerving, blocking the lower half of his face and keeping you from being able to fully read his facial expression. His gold eyes were threatening – predatory like a wolf.

He was going to kill you. You knew it was coming. He’d killed others for far less. But you weren’t ready for it. You didn’t want to die.

You dropped to your knees and bowed low in front of him, shrinking yourself to fit beneath his harsh glare. “Please, Mr. Chisaki-“

“Overhaul.”

“Overhaul!” you corrected, as you bowed your head lower to the ground. “Please forgive me. I meant no disrespect.”

“No disrespect?” he sneered. “You debase yourself in my seat, my place of business, and claim no disrespect??”

His left hand reached forward at lightning speed and grabbed you by your hair, forcing your head back until you were looking him straight up at him. You winced against his harsh hold on you, yet clenched your teeth in an effort to keep your silence. He glared down at you as his next words came out through what you could clearly hear as clenched teeth.

“Clean it up.”

With that, he shoved you away from him. On shaking, clumsy legs you pushed yourself to your feet and made your way back to his desk, your skin hot with shame and your ears ringing.

You did as he commanded, grabbing the cleaning solution and spraying his seat before carefully, meticulously, wiping every inch of the rich leather. Minutes passed in silence as you made sure that no spot went unnoticed, even ensuring that the table was once again cleaned as well. By the time you had finished, Kai’s temper seemed to have dwindled to a simmering flame. His hands were no longer clenched in fists at his sides. Instead, they were tucked deep into his pockets as he supervised you. It did little to comfort you though... you knew that Chisaki’s reflexes were faster than you could dodge. He’d catch you before you even reached the door.

Not that you’d try to. You knew better.

When the chair was finally pristine, you disposed of the last of the soiled paper towels in the wastebin and returned the cleaning solution to its home. The task was done, but you didn’t stop. You picked up the trash can with the intent of disposing of its contents; you knew Chisaki wouldn’t want it sitting in his office.

It was all to buy you time. Time to figure out what to say or what do to convince Chisaki to spare your life. But you didn’t even make it to the door before Chisaki’s voice halted your retreat.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“I... I was just...” you stammered.

“I didn’t give you permission to leave.”

You swallowed and set down the trashcan. He approached you slowly, until he was a mere few inches from you. He was so close that you could smell his cleanliness and see the pupils of his eyes dilate as he stared at you. Slowly, he grabbed the mask that was covering your mouth and nose and removed it from your head. You stopped breathing.

There was something... electric in the air. You could feel it on your skin, making your hairs stand on end and your flesh tighten with goosebumps. His eyes peered at you intently, taking in every subtlety of your face. Your lips, your eyes, your skin... and beneath the weight of his stare, you could feel the fear start to transform, replaced by something else entirely. Something familiar that’d been plaguing you for months, lighting your veins with fire and threatening to incinerate you if it wasn’t released. After all, part of his allure was the danger. And he hadn’t killed you yet, which meant... something.

Chisaki’s gaze began to wander beyond just your face, taking in your still rumpled clothes. The top couple buttons of your blouse were undone, exposing the skin of your neck and the edges of your bra. Your skirt was still askew, and although he couldn’t see it, you became acutely aware of your still-damp underwear trapped between your folds from when you had hastily closed your legs earlier. You stared back at him, waiting for him to do something, say something.

And that’s when you noticed it... a faint flush across his pale cheeks, peaking out from beneath his mask. His chest was rising and falling with each breath, and it was as if he were contemplating something, silently weighing a decision in his closed-off mind.

A strange bubbling sensation began to build within your chest, foreign and oddly out of place.

Hope.

Finally, Chisaki spoke, his voice unusually calm considering the trouble you were in. “Follow me.”

Not one to disobey him, you did as he requested as he made his way over to his desk and sat down in his chair. Then, with an open hand, he gestured at his desk.

“Sit.”

Confusion.

“W-What??” you stuttered.

“I said sit.” He replied.

You did as Chisaki commanded, fitting yourself between his legs and his desk before hopping up slightly onto the surface you’d just cleaned. You were right in front of him now, your hands in your lap and your ankles crossed as you realized just how perfect this arrangement was for him to see directly up your skirt. You worried your lip between your teeth as you watched him assess you. His elbow was resting on the armrest of his chair, his fingers supporting his face along the jawline as he stared at you with his head cocked at an angle. If it were any other situation, you’d say he looked almost bored... but the glint in his eyes spoke of something else entirely.

“Continue.” He stated.

“What? What do you mean?” you asked.

His eyes stared at you knowingly. “You didn’t get to cum, did you?” You shook your head, stunned at his words. “Continue.” He repeated.

“Right here?”

“Where else? It was good enough for you earlier.” His tone dropped slightly as his eyes narrowed. “Continue.”

Your heart pounded in your ears as you uncrossed your ankles, and with shaky hands began to trace your fingers up your thighs just as you had done before. Except this time, the experience was entirely different. Instead of closing your eyes like before, you kept them open to stare at your observer, watching for his reaction. So many times you’d fantasized about this... about his eyes being on you and only you... and you weren’t going to miss a moment of it.

With your eyes locked on each other, you inched your way up to the space between your thighs, your legs parting to grant you access. Chisaki didn’t look down. Not right away, at least. Instead, he continued to watch your face, his body still and silent. With the heat of his gaze on you, you finally reached your center where your warmth greeted you. It was still slick from earlier, your fingers sliding easily along your labia as you began to tease yourself for the second time that evening. You let out slow, shaky breaths as your fingers rubbed slow, lazy circles over your glossy lips.

Chisaki still didn’t break his gaze from your eyes, and a part of you wanted him to. You wanted him to acknowledge what you were offering him and know that he liked it. A small, devious smirk found itself on your lips as you pulled your fingers away from your pussy to show him the evidence of your arousal stretched across your fingers. It caught his attention just briefly, eyes flicking to your display, before he watched you lick the glistening strands from your fingertips, the soft sounds of your sucking filling the empty, quiet room.

Chisaki’s eyes narrowed, and the smirk on your face widened. Soon your fingers were back between your legs, massaging your clit again as your skin began to feel flush with heat. Round and round the pads of your fingers went, with painstaking slowness that you drew out just for him. You wanted to show him how good his presence made you feel. You wanted him to see how badly you wanted him. Your lips became more swollen, your clit more sensitive. Already you could start to feel the tension build. It was almost too easy, your body ready to surrender at the drop of a hat. But you weren’t going to let it happen, not yet at least. You wanted to draw this out, to savor it in case it never happened again.

With half-lidded eyes you stared at him as you parted you folds for him, fully exposing yourself. For the first time, his eyes drifted from your face to stare directly at your desire for him – your tight hole open and waiting, every inch of your swollen cunt drenched in glistening arousal. Chisaki was captivated and you felt your blood surge. You needed more. With your fingers still spreading yourself open, you dipped your middle digit into your tight heat. Pleasure bloomed within you and a soft groan vibrated from the back of your throat. With each draw of your fingers, your breaths quickened, your back arching as the tension began to build.

You struggled to keep your eyes open, to watch Chisaki as you brought yourself closer to orgasm, but it became increasingly difficult. You were single-focused now, chasing your much-needed release with each plunge of your finger into your soft depths. Your body accommodated it welcomingly, and so you added a second, once again relishing in the renewed stretch that caressed your inner walls. The faster you pumped your fingers, the better it felt until your nerves were singing that familiar hum. You flowed seamlessly into the final phase, your wet fingers leaving your entrance in favor of rubbing hard, fast circles over your clit. The finish line was in sight now as your body sprinted with tense, aching muscles and breathy moans.

You came with a gasp, back arching and thighs twitching as you rode out your orgasm. As you neared the end of it, you dipped your fingers in one last time as your walls gave one last final spasm of pleasure. Gradually the wave of your euphoria calmed, returning to the gentle, lapping waters of desire that still moved within you to the rhythm of your heartbeat.

You opened your eyes to see Chisaki still staring at you silently, his eyes once again locked onto yours. The flush across his cheeks was very much apparent now, yet his posture remained unmoved. Still, out of curiosity, you dared a quick glance down to his lap to see his hand strategically placed over the bulge in his pants. Was he trying to hide it? Because he was failing. Or was he stroking himself through his clothes when you weren’t looking?

“Again.” He ordered.

Your eyes bulged. “Again?”

He didn’t bother to answer, instead waiting silently. You were a bird trapped in the golden cage of his eyes as your mind struggled to recover enough from the hazy aftereffects of your orgasm to think straight. He wanted you to do it again?

At first you were hesitant. You knew your body was still sensitive from what had just transpired. But then again… your eyes stared at Chisaki’s crotch again as he waited for you. No doubt he saw you staring, yet he did nothing, said nothing. It almost felt like an invitation… or a dare. Do it again and see what happens.

Fuck. You’d already gotten under his skin... might as well see how deep you could go.

Between your orgasm only moments before and the juices still coating your pussy, the sensations of your touch at first felt almost... numb. Except for your clit. That part was still sensitive, making your muscles twitch and your breath hitch in your throat as you moved your fingers over it experimentally. You kept your touch gentle at first, careful to give your body time to respond as you reawakened the lust that still lurked in your core. With dark eyes you began to stroke yourself for him again, pulling soft pleasurable moans from your gently parted lips. It was definitely more intense this time, and you could already tell that this next orgasm would surpass the one before it. Still, you drew it out as you watched Chisaki. Or, more specifically, watched his free hand.

It didn’t take long... you watched his fingers grip around his hard-on through his pants, his hand slowly moving up and down his restricted length. You bit your lip at the sight and immediately felt a generous wave of hot arousal bloom between your legs, your nipples hardening achingly. It wasn’t enough to capsize you into ecstasy, but it certainly pulled a needy whimper from your lips.

You dipped your fingers into yourself, feeling your walls flutter as you imagined what it would feel like to have Chisaki inside of you. With each curl of your fingers the heat grew, like the sun reaching its zenith. You wanted it. You wanted to cum so badly. But you wanted to see him even more. So, you neglected your puffy clit in favor of unbuttoning your blouse just enough to grant you access to your sensitive breasts. You pushed aside the cup of your bra to free the plump flesh, the bud at its center tightly puckered. With deft fingers you massaged the soft skin before rolling the nipple slowly between your fingers, pulling more soft gasps and gentle hums from your lips. The more you groaned and teased yourself, the more Chisaki stroked himself as he watched you, his eyes glowing with hunger.

It wasn’t until you began to lose yourself, your eyes beginning to drift closed as you moaned and whined to the ebb and flow of your pleasure, that your patience was finally rewarded.

You could hear it over the sounds of your lewdity – the ‘click click click’ of a zipper being pulled down. You opened your eyes, not even attempting to hide your eagerness, as Chisaki freed his cock from his pants.

It was beautiful just like the rest of him; long with a slight curve, its tip red and shining with precum. Veins stood out in relief, trailing his length like vines, thick and beautiful. You swallowed at the sight of it, desperately wanting to know what it would feel like to have that in you.

You hadn’t realized your own movements had frozen until Chisaki’s smooth voice cut through your thoughts.

“I didn’t tell you to stop.” He said, as cool and professional as ever as if he didn’t currently sit before you with his dick in his hand.

He was gloating, you knew it... your stunned silence at the sight of his cock stroked his ego just as much as you touching yourself for him did. And you knew that, above all else, Chisaki loved to have his ego stroked.

“Y-yes Mr. Chisaki...” you whispered, before your fingers began moving again.

You continued to stroke and play, penetrate and rub as you watched him take his long cock in his hand and begin long, steady strokes. Even now, he still kept his gloves on, and somehow that made his every move even hotter. He was no longer propping his face up with his other hand. Now, he was sitting up straight, eyes on your needy cunt as you put on your show for him. You could see it, the tension in his temple that came and went, hear the ragged, quick draws of his breaths through his mask. Your own arousal grew in response, egged on by him searching for his own sweet relief at the lewd sight of you. It blossomed like a watered seed as you drank in the man in front of you – his hand pumping, precum dripping.

It was the push your sensitive body needed. You came surprisingly fast, your orgasm crashing over your body with greater intensity than the first. Moans and gasps ripped from your throat as your body spasmed, and you made no effort to quell your cries, too consumed by your own pleasure. With eyes squeezed shut, your hips rocked as you grinded yourself against your hand, your entire body singing in unbridled bliss.

You were given no respite. As soon as the pleasure eased just enough for your hips to still, Chisaki spoke.

“Again.”

Your eyes, still closed, flew open to look at him with incredulity. You weren’t even recovered yet, your cunt still twitching with the aftershocks of pleasure. You knew that touching yourself without some sort of break was going to lead you down a jagged, torturous road of overstimulation. It made your legs start to close up instinctually in denial.

Your mouth moved silently before you pushed the words out. “B-But... I can’t....”

Chisaki’s eyes narrowed, his brows lowering... and along the edge of his mask, you could see his cheeks lift slightly. He was smirking at you. Cruelly.

“You can, and you will.” He said. A wave of his fingers told you to reopen your legs for him, and you did, slowly, as if you were a puppet on strings. “Again.” He repeated.

Chisaki took a moment to remove the glove from his stroking hand before giving his cock a couple more languid strokes. You stared at the exposed skin in awe. It was everything you imagined it’d be... pale, smooth, nails clean and perfectly trimmed. Between his hard cock and his ungloved hand, you stared in shameless longing as an excited chill coursed down your spine. Maybe… maybe if you were good…

You swallowed the dryness in your throat and returned your fingers to your core, flinching as you brushed against your sore, overstimulated clit. Chisaki returned to pleasuring himself as you performed for him, his hand pumping steadily. Watching him masturbate to you was delicious. He didn’t rush, instead opting to taking his time, his hand moving smoothly from base to tip, occasionally pausing to run his precum over the head, the shine glinting in the light. You subconsciously licked your lips, wondering what it would taste like. Would you lick it from his tip? Or his finger? Maybe both?

You matched your pace with his, letting his own strokes guide your hand. The synchrony made your pussy ache more than ever, even as your body screamed for freedom – a break from the constant wave of stimulation that you were subjecting yourself to. It made you feel closer to him, more connected - as if he were a part of your pleasure without actually touching you.

But dear God, you desperately you wanted him to touch you.

He continued his strokes, slow and easy. Whether it was for him or for you, you weren’t sure... you weren’t even sure if he was aware that you were pacing yourself with him. His speed gradually quickened, the muscles of his forearms tensed and twitching as he pumped his hard cock with growing fervor. It was the hottest thing you’d ever seen, his eyes starting to roll back in his head as he began to lose himself to the pleasure, legs twitching slightly as he came close... Your heart pounded with excited anticipation as you dipped your fingers into your core, feeling your walls flutter with need. It was happening... he was going to cum...

But he never did. Instead, his pace began to slow as his eyes refocused on you. That was when you realized….

Chisaki wasn’t trying to cum yet… he was edging himself.

Maybe he was waiting for you. Or maybe he had his own agenda. But either way, it was clear to you that he was delaying his orgasm.

The hypocrite.

Still, you wanted to please him. You wanted to give him want he wanted, because then maybe he could give you what you really wanted. But no matter how hard you tried, no matter how fucking hot the entire situation was, your own orgasm evaded you.

It was more than just the repeated orgasms and overstimulation. The real issue was that your fingers no longer satisfied. Not after seeing what he had to offer, and certainly not after seeing how horny you made him. You wanted him to touch you, to put his hands on you, to feel his cock in you... A frustrated whine escaped your lips as you felt your resolve break.

“Please, Mr. Chisaki...” you begged. Chisaki’s eyes left your open pussy to lock with yours. Their golden depths burned holes into you, and you licked your lips under the heat of his stare. “Please touch me...”

Chisaki froze mid-stroke. “Touch you?” He said it as if the idea repulsed him, yet his eyes betrayed him as he looked back down between your open legs.

“Please,” You begged. “Don’t you want to?”

His brow was deeply furrowed, and you knew he was having his internal debate, just as he’d had before. After all, what you were asking was no small order. You knew how he felt about touch. No doubt he would have already been balls deep in you had it not been an issue for him.

But that was why you begged. And pleaded. And groveled. Anything to make him set aside his golden rule, even if just for one night.

“Please...” you whined one last time. “I’ll do anything. I need you, Kai...”

Something about you using his given name did something. His eyes widened slightly, his flush reaching down to his exposed neck. Then his eyes narrowed, as he stood from his seat. You watched with a mix of excitement and trepidation as he carefully removed his jacket and loosened his white tie. He towered over you, his stare pinning you somewhere between his contempt and his hunger as he undid the cuffs of his black shirt and rolled up his sleeves to the elbows. It made your pussy throb and your heart pound as you stared back at him, completely vulnerable. He stepped forward slightly, filling the space between your legs with his presence. Even just the graze of his pants against the inside of your knee was enough to set off fireworks on your skin, causing your breath to hitch in your throat. His cock was still out and hard, mere inches from your tight, needy cunt, and it took every ounce of willpower not to scoot down and close the gap between you.

You waited.

“Touch you...” he muttered through his mask, his voice low.

Chisaki’s eyes raked over you, taking in every inch of you. Your trembling, parted lips and large pupils; your exposed breast with its perky, hard nipple; your swollen and glossy cunt framed in ruined underwear that was carelessly shoved aside; the sweat from your thighs coating his desk.

“So fucking filthy.” He breathed. The profanity sounded strange on his lips, almost more like a prayer than an insult.

He stared at one of your thighs as he slowly placed a warm, gloved hand on it. You reacted immediately, gasping at his touch, and his eyes darted to yours.

“...And needy.” He added.

From your peripheral you could see his other hand grip his cock and begin to pump it. You tried to watch... you wanted to watch. But the heat of his hand on your thigh made nearly everything else fade away until it was all you cared about. Your breaths began to come in hot pants as your body trembled beneath him.

“I didn’t realize that you were so desperate for me.” He said calmly as he continued to stroke himself. His gloved hand squeezed your soft flesh until you were moaning from the mixture of pleasure and pain. “Pathetic.”

You were pathetic. But you didn’t care. You’d say anything, do anything, just to have him keep touching you. And if he wanted you to beg? To cry? To humiliate yourself to earn his cock? You’d do that too.

His hand slowly eased its grip as it began to move up, up, up until his thumb nestled in the crook of your thigh, just shy of your sensitive, swollen folds. Your hand immediately made way for his as you laid down completely onto his desk, your world spinning. A warmth fell over you like a blanket, every fiber of your being pulsing at a low hum; you were a glass vibrating at a frequency just shy of shattering.

Chisaki’s voice floated through your haze like a faraway song carried on the wind. “You were so eager at first. So willing to shame yourself – shame me – to get what you wanted.” He scoffed. “Now you can’t even do as I say.”

You could feel his thigh twitch against yours as he began to pump himself faster. His cock was so close to your pussy that it was torturous. It made you want to cry. You could feel the warmth of fresh juices begin to flow from you, coating your entrance in invitation, as you prayed to all the gods above and below for him to enter you without mercy.

But it never came. And his hand never ventured further. Slowly, your thoughts trickled back ever so slightly, and you realized he was waiting for you to speak. Slowly, around a heavy tongue, you made clumsy words. “I... I’m sorry...I’m trying... is hard...”

Chisaki tsked. “You’re afraid. Afraid of pushing past your limits. So now I’m going to help you.”

His gloved thumb crossed the threshold to your swollen bud, and your world exploded into color as a sharp zing of pleasure erupted from between your legs. You cried out, your body spasming, hips writhing to escape his touch. It was too much...

“Where do you think you’re going?” he demanded.

Then he did something you didn’t expect – his bare hand released his cock and slammed down onto the desk. The surface rippled beneath you, transforming until smooth arches of dark mahogany wrapped themselves over your arms, effectively pinning you down.

Your heart pounded wildly in your chest, your breaths coming out in quick, panicked gasps.

“Kai!” you protested.

He bent over you and grabbed your jaw in his gloved hand, his plague doctor mask inches from your face. “You wanted me to touch you,” he whispered. “Now you’re going to get what you asked for.”

The look in his eyes wasn’t as controlled as before. Sure, the disgust and hunger were still there. But there were more emotions now, peaking through the cracks of his practiced façade. Anger, contempt, fear, desire, longing... and something else; something wild and unhinged.

Something within him was on the verge of breaking, of being set free, and you were the one responsible.

He straightened himself up and returned his gloved hand to your sopping core, his cock once again in his bare hand. His thumb found its home again, nestled firmly against your engorged clit.

He wasn’t gentle, he wasn’t slow. Instead, his thumb ran swift, relentless circles, the digit igniting every frayed nerve. Each swipe had you crying out as wave after wave of sharp, jagged pleasure assaulted you, without so much as a second of recovery in between. And as Chisaki raced you towards that inevitable cliff, his own hand pumped himself hard and fast. His strokes began to become erratic, his composure slowly slipping as you began to unravel before him, your whines and cries luring him to follow you to the point of no return. You could feel his own legs began to spasm against your inner thighs, his hips beginning to jut forward with each drag of his palm along his hard shaft. The gap between your two bodies began to close, until you could feel the tip of him brush against your core. In that instant, you came undone beneath him with his name spilling from your drooling lips.

The temptation was too much. He entered you as you came, his cock burying itself within your clenching walls with a single thrust. Your legs wrapped around him instantly as your body exploded into a mess of tears, shrieks, and trembles. With one hand on your hip and one working your clit, he fucked you through your orgasm as you cried and panted, his own grunts joining your one-person symphony as you felt every fiber of your being shatter with white hot pleasure. It was all-consuming, disorienting. You weren’t even sure you were a person anymore. You could feel nothing else, see nothing else except the man inside of you, hovering over you, filling your existence.

It didn’t stop. Even after you were a blubbering mess, tears streaming down your cheeks, your thighs and cunt sore, Chisaki kept going, his cock reaching new depths as it dragged against your spasming, sensitive walls. His breaths were heavy, each pant labored until he ripped his mask off his face. It was like a switch had been flipped, changing Chisaki from a man in control to nearly animalistic. Teeth bared, sweat beading across his forehead, golden eyes absolutely feral. His thrusts took you past your orgasm, unrelenting, and you cried and babbled for him to stop, it was too much, your body couldn’t take anymore. But even as your string of incoherent words begged for the end, your body spoke of a different kind of freedom, your legs tightening around Chisaki’s waist in an effort to pull him impossibly deeper into you.

Chisaki snarled, releasing his hand from your cunt as he continued to fuck you, and removed his remaining glove with his teeth. Suddenly, the white fabric was being shoved into your mouth, gagging your broken words behind its white cotton that smelled and tasted of you.

“Shut up.” He growled.

You could see the hives breaking out across his damp, flushed skin now at the contact, but it no longer seemed to matter to him. And it didn’t matter to you either. You were wrapped up delirium, your eyes glossing over and rolling into your head with each drive of Chisaki’s hips. Your hips couldn’t even keep up with his thrusts anymore; his movements were too rough, too fast. All you could do was lay there and receive him as he pounded you without restraint. That familiar knot was forming again, a dark beast built from the broken pieces of the last. It was a terrifying thing, a formidable presence that you felt building within yourself that would surely decimate you.

“This is what you really wanted, isn’t it?” Chisaki grunted through clenched teeth. “You wanted me to fuck you senseless, to ruin this tight pussy of yours like the greedy, selfish bitch you are.”

His words washed over you and you gave the faintest of nods, your mouth still gagged.

“So, you’re going to take what I give you. You’re going to cum when I say, as often as I say.” His cock hit deep as his thumb gave a final press against your clit. “Now.”

You screamed around the cotton in your mouth, back arching and arms straining against the wood trapping you as the tension finally erupted. It tore through your veins, making your fluids gush and your pussy clench like a vice around Chisaki’s pumping cock. Not a moment later, you heard him groan followed by the hot sensation of his cum coating your walls. It only enhanced the waves of pleasure still wrecking you and your pussy milked him greedily as he emptied himself in you.

The comedown felt like it would never arrive. Your nerves still sang too loudly, the aches echoed too deep. But finally, Chisaki’s hips stuttered to a stop and your own body lay limp beneath him. It felt like you were submerged under water, every sense dulled or muted, as you stared hazily at the ceiling. Chisaki was still in you, his dick twitching sensitively each time your body gave a weak aftershock. You had thought he would pull out, leave you there like the ruined mess you were to go clean himself up. Now doubt he’d return to his senses any moment and be repulsed by what transpired.

But he never did. Instead, he braced himself over you, his heavy, hot breaths coating your exposed skin as he settled through his own comedown while you warmed his cock. You felt the desk ripple beneath you and suddenly your arms were freed from their restraints, the wooden surface back to its original state. A moment later, he filled your view as he leaned over you, and you had a brief moment of panic, wondering if you were next. Was he going to overhaul you now? After all, he got what he wanted...

But he never did that either. Instead, he removed the glove from your mouth as his eyes traced over your face, marking every feature, every nuance. Your parted, chapped lips... your glossy, sweat-stained skin... the exhaustion in your eyes... His thumb came up to wipe away at the tears drying along your cheekbones before running the smooth pad over your lower lip.

Then he did something you didn’t anticipate, something that surprised you above all else. He bent down and captured your mouth with his, his wet tongue gliding into your stunned, open mouth. It was strangely slow, uncharacteristically tender, and entirely unexpected. The fog you’d been swimming in a moment before lifted slightly, and you began to kiss him back, your arm wrapping up around his shoulders before tangling your fingers into his damp, auburn locks at the base of his neck.

Whatever it was, it was short-lived. He brought a hand up to grasp the hand you had around his neck, his fingers twining with yours as he placed your hand back down on the desk, pinning you within his hold. He pulled away from the kiss and stared down at you with a dark smirk tugging the corners of his wet lips. And his eyes... his eyes burned gold like the sun. Not a beautiful, gentle gold that kissed open delicate flowers and melted winter snow. No, this was a force of unrelenting destruction, the kind that burned deserts, scorched forests... and melted wax wings.

You were Icarus, fueled by foolishness and arrogance. You’d flown too close, fueled by a false sense of confidence that you could handle whatever it was that lurked within him, that your lust was enough to match his. But you were quickly learning you couldn’t. His fire burned too hot, his hunger too deep. He was going to devour you until there was nothing left. And really, what did you expect from a man who denied himself every human urge in his quest for perfection?

The sun could never be controlled.

And Pandora’s box can never be closed.

Slowly, he lowered his face next to yours until you could feel his lips brush against the shell of your ear.

“Again.”

#overhaul x reader #Kai Chisaki x reader #overhaul smut #mha smut #bnha smut #tw:bondage #tw:masturbation #tw:degradation #tw:overstimulation #tw:aggression #bnharem collab

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lannister-slings-and-arrows · 3 years

Text

I and Love and You

The fifth in Rafael Barba/Reader/Frederick Chilton threesome verse written in collaboration with @pascalispretty . Mood board also by the lovely and talented @pascalispretty !! Yep. We did this. Was it necessary? No. Did we enjoy it? Sometimes. Are you going to read it? I sure hope you do and that you like it! Cross posted on ao3!

Part Five of the series So Much Easier than You Realize

Warnings: Total and complete tooth rotting fluff. Schedule an appointment with your dentists, ladies and germs. Rafael is, as always, a bit of a jackass. You will probably have an incurable craving for breakfast food. And the teeniest tiniest mention of daddy kink. Rating: E for everyone because there is nothing objectionable in this at all, I did not think we could actually write something this sweet lol. Word Count: 3725 Summary: Mornings are for cookies and contemplation.

When Rafa wakes up, he spares a moment to sympathize with his growling stomach. More than one moment, if he’s being honest with himself. He isn’t normally an early riser but his stomach wouldn’t be so empty if he’d been allowed to have his bedtime snack and not rudely distracted by his two partners and an ingenious application of his second favorite blue tie. The result is pleasantly sore abdominal muscles and the rare opportunity to wake up in time to see the both of them still peacefully asleep in bed next to him.

Fred’s back is pressed close to his chest and his legs brush against Rafa’s as he levers himself up onto his elbow to look at her on Fred’s other side. Her face is tucked against Fred’s neck and the doctor’s arms are wrapped tightly around her, and Rafa smiles at them both, still asleep in the soft grey early morning light.

Fred shifts, and an irritable frown passes over his face the longer Rafa uses him to balance himself to stare at the two of them, so Rafa quickly presses a kiss to his temple before settling back down with a sigh.

It’s too early to be up, really, but he’s starving and is not getting back to sleep without eating something. He grunts and sits up before pressing another kiss to Fred’s shoulder. He swings his legs out of bed and grabs a pair of grey sweatpants.

Rafa trudges down the hall to the kitchen. There were still Bugles hidden in the back of Fred’s Tupperware cabinet. Oh shit, had he eaten them all? He flicks on the light to the kitchen and huffs a quiet laugh when he finds a sticky note on the door of said cabinet in Fred’s small, precise handwriting.

Sorry, I ate the last of your chips two days ago. In my defense, counselor, you left them in my house and I was having a very stressful day. I made you cookies instead, they’re on top of the microwave. I figured you’d be up before the both of us this morning since you didn’t get your snack. --An Apologetic Psychiatrist who feels like he shouldn’t be apologizing for eating food in his own cupboards.

Rafa runs his fingers over the note a few times, smiling like an idiot, his heart feeling full and warm and about seven sizes larger than it was when he woke up. He turns his head and sees a plastic container (with a green lid because the green Tupperware was for storage of baked goods as Fred was constantly reminding him) right where Fred said it would be, and when he steps over to investigate it further he finds a batch of white chocolate macadamia nut cookies. Another note is stuck to the lid.

I know these aren’t your favorite. I know that you don’t really enjoy white chocolate. Consider this my attempt to make sure you don’t eat all of these in one sitting. Please limit yourself to two; you aren’t in your 20’s anymore, Rafael, and it’s not even a normal time for breakfast yet, much less cookies. --A Not Apologetic Psychiatrist who doesn’t want your first heart attack to be in his apartment, thank you very much.

Rafa rolls his eyes and peels the lid off, smirking as he deliberately takes three out of the box. He doesn’t hate white chocolate, after all, and he does love macadamia nuts. And he has always had a problem following instructions.

Standing at the kitchen counter, Rafa eats his cookies with a pleased groan, once again thanking whatever saints or angels his mami appeals to for sending him a partner that bakes. Not that he thinks his mother would have prayed for someone at all like Fred. Fussy, officious, arrogant, snobby, and, well, a man. His mother would have had someone like their younger lover in mind however. Smart, pretty, and willing to stand up to his attitude. Most of the time anyways. Well, what did Lucia Barba always say? You can make as many requests of God as you want to but remember that He has a sense of humor too? She got him a little extra than what her original request probably specified.

Rafa snorts at the thought and brushes crumbs off his bare chest, leaning back against the counter and surveying the kitchen in the growing light. He’s still hungry but he knows he’ll hear about it if Fred wakes up and all of those cookies are gone. And today is supposed to be the one day this whole month the three of them can spend just being quiet together with no plans, no work, and no prior obligations. He’d rather not spend it all dodging Fred’s passive aggressive jabs and her pouting looks and quiet pleas to please just be the bigger man and apologize.

He stretches his arms out on the counter behind him and tips his head back, staring absently at Fred’s kitchen ceiling as he contemplates making his way back to bed and napping until Fred wakes up and decides to order in breakfast. He’s nearly settled on that plan when he catches sight out of the corner of his eye of the bright blue note on the cupboard. He doesn’t remember Fred spending any time in the kitchen before the two of them dragged Rafa into the bedroom to put his ties to a much more interesting use. He must have gotten out of bed after Rafa fell asleep to put this together, and Rafa can’t help the smile that spreads over his entire face.

Rafa slaps his palms on the counter and shoves himself off, making his way over to the fridge to see what Fred has in the way of actual food. He’s already awake; the least he can do is make breakfast.

He finds the ingredients for pancakes easily enough--Fred is a stickler for organization. Rafa tries not to make a mess as he moves around the perfectly arranged and spotless kitchen. He stirs the batter by hand rather than risk the noise of the KitchenAid but pauses over whether or not to put chocolate chips in.

She would be pleased, her sweet tooth nearly rivals his own, but Fred would almost definitely be annoyed. Especially because Rafa has already had chocolate earlier in the morning. With a fond sigh, Rafa puts the glass jar back in the cupboard, though not before tipping a few of the chocolate chips out into his hand.

It reminds him of cooking in Fred’s beautiful house in Baltimore, his sweet girl laughing and dancing around the kitchen in one of Fred’s shirts, barely being any help at all. All three of them adore the big, beautiful house that Fred had shyly shown them--as if they could have done anything else other than fall in love with it.

Fred relaxed slightly when it became clear that his guests found the house as beautiful as he did. Rafa tried to help her in slowing Fred down as he showed it to them, asking questions about particular objects or features and pointing out the things they especially admired. Every sincere compliment kept a gratified little smile plastered on Fred’s face--and there was plenty to compliment him on.

It’s clear that it holds a special place in Fred’s heart. It’s so him, every inch of it reflecting back the man who poured so much time and effort and money into making it a home. From the collection of antique medical texts carefully displayed on the shelves to the exact shade of teal velvet upholstery on some of the armchairs, Fred had lavished attention on the house to surround himself with things he loved and found beautiful. It amused Rafa to wonder if he’d taken that into account when he’d invited his partners over; whether they’d laud the elegant aesthetic he’d established in his home.

Shifting the spoon briefly to give his right hand a break from mixing, he smiles at the memory. He’s never actually admitted to Fred how much he likes playing house with his two partners there. Rafa is fairly certain that the kitchen in the Baltimore house is larger than the apartment that he grew up in and he knows that a wine cellar is an absurd luxury. But it’s a place where the three of them are free to be themselves, without worrying about nosy neighbors and doormen.

Rafa snorts quietly, folding the batter briskly to get out all the little flour bubbles. That pretty well explains how he feels about Fred too. Fred is too high maintenance, too abrasive in all the ways Rafa normally hates, too… prep school, but Rafa can’t help but smile indulgently every time he turns his nose up at a meal that costs less than fifty dollars, or every time he gets that prissy stubborn look on his face, or juts his chin out and point blank refuses to admit that he’s wrong (even though Rafa can tell that he knows that he is).

He never apologizes either. Ever. He’ll be proven wrong, he’ll hurt both their feelings, and the closest to any sort of acknowledgment of wrongdoing that the both of them will get will be a cup of coffee in bed the next morning, one of Fred’s most handsome smiles, and the complete and sudden cessation of all hostilities like the fight never happened. Rafa knows that with anyone else that kind of behavior would be a relationship killer.

Rafa looks over the batter and nods to himself, satisfied with the consistency, and balances the spoon against the side of the bowl. He stares at the oven and frowns. Just pancakes hardly make breakfast. Going over to the fridge, he grabs bacon out of its particular place, rolling his eyes as he does so, and tosses it on the counter next to the pancake batter, reaching under the silverware drawer for a frying pan.

Maybe it’s the way Fred ‘apologizes’ with the perfect cup of coffee instead of actual words. Maybe it’s that same perfect cup of coffee that somehow manages to find its way onto his desk at work when he’s too swamped to go out and get one--just because Fred knows he needs it. Or a sandwich from his favorite deli and a quick flash of that handsome smile on Fred’s lunch break.

Rafa gets started on actually cooking said breakfast, hissing and swearing quietly when he gets a first-hand demonstration of why you shouldn’t fry things without a shirt on. Fred would have more than a few words to say to him about the relative intelligence of what he’s doing right now. He grins. Maybe that’s it--the way he cares while trying desperately to make it seem like every time it’s an inconvenience of the highest order.

Maybe Rafa loves Fred because every once in a while, when he’s very drunk, very tired, or the perfect combination of both, Fred slips a little and calls the both of them by those cute, ridiculous southern pet names that before now Rafa would have put money on being more myth than fact. And how embarrassed he is when it is pointed out to him that he just called a forty-something year old man ‘pickle’.

Fred is arrogant, prickly, particular, and both overindulgent and overly judgmental of vices depending on if he himself shares in them. He is a pain to get along with most of the time and sometimes treats the two of them like they’re made of spun gold--things to be cherished and well looked after and shown off to the best of his ability. He’s a contradictory monster and Rafa loves him.

He has a feeling that the smile on his face is sappy and ridiculous, but as he turns the bacon and settles to wait a few more minutes, he shrugs. There isn’t anyone else around this early to see him; his reputation as a son of a bitch and a jackass won’t be ruined. He loves Fred. He loves her. He loves both of them--sometimes so much it’s hard for him to keep it to himself and wait for them to come to the same conclusion. Their individual faults, foibles, and perfections and the way they mesh with each other and fit so surprisingly well in his own life.

Like getting new book recommendations from her--whenever he has the time to actually read something for fun. She leaves them on his home desk with a brief explanation why she thinks he’ll like them. That almost always makes up for the numerous occasions he has gone looking for one of his own books and found it had mysteriously jumped off its shelf and walked itself three rooms over, or managed to find itself completely out of order.

He drains the bacon onto a paper towel covered plate and gives the pan a quick rinse. He loves finding packets of M&M’s in his briefcase or in his suit coat pockets, loves knowing they’re from her and that she braved Fred’s ire to indulge his habit of constant snacking. A habit Fred particularly despises. He loves--most of the time--being a couple minutes late to work some mornings because she got into a nearly incoherent argument with him about what color tie he should wear. He loves that she loves his wardrobe as much as he does.

Rafa loves ganging up with her to tease Fred and loves that she can take some teasing herself. He loves that she just rolls her eyes and plays along when his puckish side emerges and he can’t help but be an asshole even though he can tell she would rather he didn’t.

Rafa starts pouring pancake batter, chuckling to himself when he recalls the mood she’d gotten into the last time his sense of humor had gotten the better of him. While waiting for a table in a restaurant, a strange woman had made a snide comment about ‘men dating women young enough to be their daughters’ and Rafa had been unable to resist feigning outrage and asking what was so terrible about a man taking his daughter out for a nice birthday dinner.

The woman had been mortified, and Rafa had enjoyed the look on her face so much that he’d only hammered the point home further, telling her it was hardly his fault he was a widower and a single parent. He hoped it had taught her a valuable lesson in boundaries. His sweet girl had been so embarrassed but it had been so worth it.

Flipping the first pancake, he thinks about the flaws that come with her youth. She’s always the first one to joke about having daddy issues and Rafa can hardly deny how much he enjoys hearing her call him papi--and Fred daddy--in bed. He just has to try not to think too deeply about it. Not that Rafa really has a leg to stand on where difficult paternal relationships are concerned. But her jokes mask an insecurity and a clinginess that Fred has a habit of overindulging. More than once when he’s been trying to work she’s tried to distract him or cuddle up to him and then gotten sulky when he had to gently but firmly rebuff her.

When he finally finishes work on those evenings, he usually finds her wrapped around Fred instead, giving him a wounded look when he finally emerges from behind his case files. Those looks are wordless guilt trips every time he’s on the receiving end of one--no matter how right he feels in his decision to work instead of play.

And yet somehow she’s worked the same magic on him that Fred has. A flaw that in anyone else would have stopped any idea of a relationship in its tracks is something that he’s come to love about her. Her clinginess comes from a place of emotional fragility and it must be hard to let her partners see that. The fact that she trusts them enough to be so vulnerable around them makes Rafa’s heart swell. He can’t help but love her, even when he’s dealing with her pouting and huffing.

Fred talks about it like Rafa is somehow being ungrateful, that he should drop everything to spend time with his beautiful, smart, young lover, and it drives Rafa crazy. He knows that Fred generally means well when he tries to appeal against his more workaholic tendencies, but he also knows that Fred could retire now and live off his trust fund if he wanted. It rubs him the wrong way when Fred tries to discourage him from working hard because he’s never needed to understand why Rafa works as hard as he does.

He starts stacking the cooked pancakes on a plate on the stove and furrows his brow in concentration. Fred gleefully indulges her in her clinginess, dropping everything to scoop her into his arms or take her to bed. They’ve even taken to napping together with his cock still tucked inside her, as if they can’t bear to be anything other than as close as physically possible. He’s stubbornly blind to the fact that Rafa can’t just drop what he’s doing. If Fred misses a deadline for submitting a journal article the worst that happens is it gets pushed back an issue. If Rafa misses something in his case files or submits something late or fails to prepare as fully as he should, it can ruin lives. Dangerous predators can be let out on the street to offend again. People don’t get the justice they deserve. And even in this day and age, a poor boy with a Spanish name is granted a lot less leeway with employers than a rich boy with a nice American name and family money.

They come from very different worlds, even if Rafa has carefully and thoroughly infiltrated Fred’s, and Rafa loves and hates it a little that Fred forgets that most of the time. Rafa has to always be ‘on’ and can’t afford the same kind of laxness that Fred can.

Sometimes he even has to be ‘on’ at home when he’d rather put his fist through a wall or wrap himself in every blanket in the apartment with a bottle of scotch and pass out. Like when he walks into whichever apartment they’re spending the night at to find Fred in a screaming match with her that he has to moderate. She likes to complain that he and Fred can really get into it like a pair of children, and he isn’t saying she’s wrong—they definitely can—but she and Fred are just as bad. Frankly, the three of them are cut from the same cloth when it comes to being pig headed and it makes for some rather loud and spirited fights.

Like the frequent battles she has with Fred over her occasional smoking habit. They always start out with Fred gently chiding and somehow end up with Fred snidely pulling out his “I went to medical school, therefore everyone else is a moron” voice and her reminding him that he couldn’t cut it as a real doctor and she’ll “smoke a goddamn fucking cigarette every once in a while if she fucking feels like it.” Rafa tries to interfere before it descends to “as much as you like to act like it sometimes, Frederick, you aren’t my father” and “maybe if you knew how to make better choices you wouldn’t be constantly seeking validation from older men,” but he doesn’t always get home in time and instead walks in to the both of them glaring icily at each other or shouting as many deliberately hurtful things as they can.

He likes to leave his courtroom face at work, but it’s generally the only thing that will defuse those battles, or at least calm them down into cold wars. Rafa doesn’t particularly enjoy playing mediator on the best of days, especially not when one wrong word from him will have one or both of them turning on him as another enemy combatant. He likes his occasional cigarette too, and he snacks constantly, and eats terribly; all things that Fred will use to drag him into a fight.

But while he hates trying to calm them down enough to at least stop yelling, he has to admit he loves having people around to yell in the first place. Yes, these fights mean he has to put on his lawyer face when he’d rather get drunk and pass out. But he has people in his life to break up fights between. He can come “home” to people who care about him. People who, when they aren’t screaming, see him come through the door and smile. People who would, and have on occasion, drop what they are doing to bring him something he left at home and needs now. People who drop a sandwich on his desk when he’s working and quietly--most of the time-- leave him to it.

People who care and appreciate him.

Rafa finishes setting plates and cutlery out on the island and starts the coffee maker. He loves having them a few rooms away. He loves knowing that they like him enough to put up with his “shoebox sized apartment”, with him being an incurable workaholic, with the fact that when he gets stressed or angry he lashes out at anyone around him. With the fact that when he does he can be more than a little cruel.

Rafa makes his way back into Fred’s bedroom, wincing as always at how bright it gets when the morning sun fully hits it. He smiles when he sees them still tucked against each other just like he had left them. He loves this view the most.

Rafa grins mischievously. They put up with his innate tendency to be a complete and utter jackass, and that is one more thing he loves about them.

“I just rearranged every single cupboard, bookshelf, and drawer in your entire apartment, Frederick!” Rafa informs the room in general. Loudly.

Fred’s eyes snap open and he sits up, dislodging his sleeping companion without a second glance. His gaze lands on Rafa, who is smirking next to him, and his eyes go comically wide in horror.

“Rafael Barba, you didn’t.”

Tag List: @sassyada, @dreamlover31, @prurientpuddlejumper, @storiesofsvu

#rafael barba x frederick chilton x reader #rafael barba x frederick chilton #frederick chilton x reader #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba #frederick chilton #law and order svu #hannibal #fanfiction #fanfic

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itcanbegoodagain · 3 years

Text

Gentle Love

More Everlark fluff, because, really, is there ever too much?

Word Count: 1821 (not really proofread)

Now that the need isn't so dire, it's harder for me to rise before the sun does. And, most times, it isn't a problem. There's no need for me to be up so early in the day. Summer, though, was a different story.

The sun was too damn hot!

So, with heavy and unwilling limbs, I rolled out of bed, straightening the sheets before washing up.

Minutes later, when I crossed into the kitchen, Peeta was already there, finishing breakfast at the table. He broke into a grin, making my lips lift into a smile back. He stood and grabbed the warming teakettle off the stove, filling a mug and placing it at my spot on the table.

Then he took a step over to me and gave me his customary good morning kiss on the crown of my head. At first, I teased him about doing it everyday, but now I wrap my arms around Peeta's stomach, not-so-secretly craving this gentle love every morning.

"Hi," I said softly, grinning and pressing a kiss to his shirt. He hugged me back, resting his cheek on my head. My eyes fell shut again, craving to return to sleep, while I basked in Peeta's steadiness. This little ritual we do always starts my day off on the right foot. The beat of his heart had almost lulled me back into a light sleep when he quietly said my name.

I squeezed him tighter, holding him close for another moment, and unwound myself from his embrace. One of his hands came up to rest on the side of my face. "I gotta head to the bakery now." His thumb lightly ran down my cheekbone. "I'll see you later. Have a good day," he added, and I replied in kind.

I heard the door shut behind Peeta as I sat down to my now cooling tea. Sipped it and, ah yes, the perfect temp. He even remembered to add the extra mint leaf. Quite a spoiled wife, I am.

By the time I finally deemed myself alert enough not to fall out of a tree, the sun was already climbing high in the sky. It was going to be a very hot day.

The animals are much smarter than I am, evidently. They were staying home, in their cool dens and nests, as one should on a day as blistering as this. Sweat was pooling in, just, all of everywhere. I was tired and uncomfortable, to put it lightly. The added bonus of nothing to show for the day really topped it all off.

It was a relief to finally return home, dumping my bow and bag as soon as I entered the door. I peeled my shoes off next, leaving them in the entryway. I'm usually the one fussing at Peeta for doing just that. When I reached our bathroom, the first thing I did was turn the shower on. My clothes were quickly shucked to the floor, the tie from my braid promptly following.

I closed my eyes as I stepped into the cool stream of water, running my fingers through my hair to get it thoroughly soaked. I spun in a slow circle, grateful for the simple luxury of a shower. Still, not one to be wasteful, I indulged in a few more minutes of sitting in the steady stream, then I stood and shut it off.

With the towel wrapped around me, I pondered what to wear as I looked at my closet. I tend to favorite pants, but there is no way. I decided on instead wearing my soft dressing gown, the thin fabric only brushing my knees surely going to keep me cool.

I sighed, pulling the fridge open. My lack of kills from this morning's hunt became glaringly evident, what with all these vegetables staring back at me. I reached in and grabbed a few different things, shutting the door with my hip as I turned around.

Then I got to work, cleaning and chopping as necessary, and put together a pretty nice salad, if I do say so myself. Light, fresh veggies from our garden out back, with a squeeze of lemon juice and cracked pepper sprinkled on top.

Air conditioning has yet to make it out to many places here in Twelve, so all of our windows were thrown wide open, the curtains moving in the summer breeze. I could hear Haymitch's geese honking over in his yard, and I grinned to myself. Geese, of all things to raise.

Peeta came in as I was setting my plate into the rack to dry, using a towel to wipe my hands. I leaned back against the counter, looking him up and down. Took in his sweat-soaked shirt, his flushed cheeks, his damp hair. I rose a brow. "Hot day in the bakery, was it?" I asked, breaking into a grin.

He rolled his eyes as he nodded, shooting me a snarky grin as he grabbed a glass of water. He quickly downed it, filling the glass up again before reaching over to snag my arm and bring me closer.

I backed up a step, his arm falling into the space between us. He sent me an exaggerated pout. "Nope, not until you take a shower. I'm already rinsed off, so no touching until you are, too."

Peeta tried to reach out again, this time for my other arm, and I evaded it. I gave him a look, and he held his hands up in mock surrender. "Okay, I give. I'll go shower." Then he grinned, and I knew that look. "But not before I do this!" he said, quickly darting in and pressing a kiss to my cheek.

Before I even reacted, he took off for the stairs, yelling behind him, "Okay! Going! Love you!" as he went. I watched him go, touching my cheek as a flush spread its way across my face. His casual show of love sometimes still makes me shy, but I'm learning to take in every little moment he tells me that he loves me in a different way. I try to do the same for him in return -- he deserves that at the very least. At most, more than anything I could ever give him.

But I'm too selfish to let anyone else have him. And nobody else compares to me in his eyes, so there's really nothing to worry about at all, is there?

My smile slipped off my face over the next few minutes, but it easily returned when I caught Peeta's eye as he came down the stairs. He was wearing his undershorts and a t-shirt on top, also doing his best to stay cool. I stood and made my way over to him as he followed me with his eyes.

He took his hand and ran his fingers up my neck, over my jaw. Cupped my cheek, pulling my head closer as he slowly, deftly, kissed me. My breath caught in my throat, just for a moment. "Am I clean enough for you, now?" he asked, pressing his lips to mine again, gently biting at the bottom one. "I missed you almost as much as I melted in the heat."

I threw my head back and laughed. "Oh, I know. It's merciless out there. I don't even want to think about how hot it is in front of all those ovens."

"Precisely why I closed up early, my dear." He tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. "I said to hell with selling what was left in the case, so I shut off the ovens and passed it out on the way home. Knowing you were here may have aided in my decision, but really, who's to say?" He smiled at me again, a hint of mischief playing on his lips.

My heart swelled at his words. How I ended up with such a generous man as my husband, I will never know. Everything he does somehow makes me love him more, and I don't know how there can be much more room in my heart for it to keep growing.

"It's gonna be a meatless day today - no luck hunting this morning," I told him. It's not a problem if I don't get anything out on my hunts; we don't rely on what I bring home, but we vastly prefer it over the butcher's cuts. "There's also a salad in the fridge if you're hungry."

"A personal chef, just for me," he said, pulling the door open and taking the plate out. "Thank you."

I joined Peeta at the table, resting my chin in my hand as I looked out the window. Took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. The need for sleep returned now that I had a full belly, and I closed my eyes. Oh, perhaps it's okay not to do anything the rest of the day. I could give myself this day of doing nothing. Perhaps I could convince Peeta to do the same.

I opened my eyes, turning my head to look back at Peeta. He was already watching me, his features soft in the sunlight. Yes, I thought, tilting my head, he will be easy to convince.

He narrowed his eyes at me. "What are you scheming up over there?"

I hummed. "Oh, nothing, really." Then I stood, walking around the table, and planted myself in his lap. One of my arms rested on his shoulder, my hand easily finding its place in his damp hair. Peeta's eyes fell shut as I lightly combed my fingers through his curls. He let out a small sigh. One of his hands traced back and forth on my thigh, the other one twining with my free hand in our lap. We stayed like this for a while, comfortable in the other person's company.

At some point, he began bestowing the lightest and softest kisses along my neck, his closest access point. Using the hand already in his hair, I brought his face up to mine, kissing his lips. He tasted like lemon.

"What do you say," I started, "to lazing around the rest of the day?"

He grinned. "Way ahead of you, my love." Kissed me again, this time with more pressure, my heart racing in response. "Well, maybe not exactly nothing...." he added, pulling me ever closer to him.

I laughed, feeling the warm pressure of our bodies against each other. "I thought that was a given in the term 'lazing around.'"

"It is. I just wanted to make sure you were aware of it."

I bit my lip, holding back a sarcastic response. My thumb tilted his chin up, our lips meeting in the middle for another kiss. He made a noise in the back of his throat when I lightly scraped my nail along his skin, and I grinned against his lips.

A good day to laze around, indeed.

#everlark #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #katniss and peeta #ficlet #fluff #the hunger games #post mockingjay #canon compliant #i struggled writing this so don't tell me if u think it's bad #i love peeta

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daydream-believin · 3 years

Text

What About the Smaller Picture (3)

Summary: Merlin knows best. And what he feels is best for you and Douxie right now is to sit around and wait for him to come back from New Jersey, Merlin-knows-when. (3) You’ve adjusted to Arcadian life pretty well. (1) or (4)

Warnings: Swearing, sleep problems?

Word count: 2474

A/n: sorry this wasnt out sooner I’ve had a week

The curtains were blue. They had a little pattern of navy and white flowers and curvy lines like pottery painted with indigo. You had moved one of Doux’s bookshelves to be the second wall to allow the curtain rod to even be in place. This layout effectively created a nook of sorts around your little bed. To be frank the curtains weren’t absolutely necessary. The space kinda gave you university dorm vibes with the two twin beds across from each other. But there was no way you were letting this guy you barely knew watch you sleep. Even if you were good friends, you wouldn’t let him watch you sleep. That kind of vulnerability was special, reserved for only those closest to you.

Speaking of closeness, Douxie had been very adamant about you not calling him by his full name anymore. Made him feel like you were reprimanding him, he said. You could relate to the feeling, and so you were now being careful to replace all ‘Hisirdoux’s with ‘Douxie’s in your head. Or at least a ‘Doux’. Not ‘Babe’. Who told you that. You definitely never referred to him as Babe in your mind. Nope. That Is Not Something Friends Do.

“And,” Douxie rubbed the back of his neck, “Normally when people call me Hisirdoux nowadays it’s because they want to kill me. Only strangers and enemies call me that. Or Zoe when she’s pissed. So yeah, just Douxie is fine.”

“Just Douxie?”

He chuckled, “Yeah.” You looked up at him with a smile.

“Douxie.” He flushed, nodding. “Well, Douxie, what do you want for dinner tonight.”

That little nook you’d built hadn’t stopped Douxie from trying to talk to you all night, however. You’d think the curtains would be a clear message of don’t talk to me I want to be left alone but Doux hadn’t really taken that hint. You tried your best to brush him off the first few nights, even pretending to fall asleep. It didn’t stop him. By the fourth night you spent in Arcadia, you gave in. You had trouble sleeping anyways, as it was apparent so did your roommate, so might as well indulge him. It’s not like ignoring him did any good. Instead of staring at a blue-light screen that messed with your circadian rhythm, you talked about nonsense with Doux. And it was good nonsense. He was way too funny. Or maybe it’s that thing where if you’re into someone then everything they say is hilarious. You’ll never know. But it was nice, either way.

The funny thing was that not only did you actually start to like this, but now it was becoming hard to sleep without it. He helped. Your whole life you stayed up late, and then tossed and turned all night anyways. Now your bedtime routine was talk to Douxie for a few hours, slowly falling asleep, and then you’d sleep the whole night through like a baby. No more restlessness. No more waking up over and over again. Even if you did, you could just listen to him snore for a bit and fall right back to sleep. You guessed it was the feeling of safety he provided. Like someone was watching over you, even when you were at your most vulnerable. You’d never really had that luxury before.

You had started noticing the trouble coming back when he would stay out late sometimes. And Douxie was gone one night and you suddenly couldn’t sleep at all. This was bad. A problem, if you will. But no matter. There were more pressing things to worry about.

Like the fact that all week, Douxie had been hinting that he had something you two were going to do soon. He would not tell you what it was. In fact he was taking quite a bit of joy in dangling this “surprise” in front of your face but not telling you anything about it. It was driving you a little crazy. You hoped what he had planned was nothing too wild, though. It’s not that you weren’t down, you were just tired. But you could use a little shaking up. This bookshop existence was boring. You weren’t boring. You had enough crazy stories to last an immortal lifetime from growing up in New Jersey. Not just modern-day Urban New Jersey. Early colonial Quaker-dominated New Jersey was wild too. Especially as one of those infamous New England witches. Maybe Douxie was taking you on some magic errand. That would be great, you were dying to do something actually in your job description ever since you got here. Not that working in the bookshop wasn’t nice, it just wasn’t magic. You were craving magic.

But alas, as the sun was setting and the last patrons left the store, life moved on as mundanely usual. You flipped over the sign, scratched a sunbeam bathing Archie behind the ears, and started the process of re-shelving all the damn books that customers left strown about. The sunset turned the bookshop pink. There were fewer cars rushing by. Now that there were no customers, it was very peaceful. Just you, Archie’s snoring, and the soft lute music playing. The music was lute covers of popular songs, and at this point you were pretty sure it was Douxie himself who recorded this shit.

Speaking of Douxie, you hadn’t seen him all day. It had made working the bookshop extra extra boring. Like if he wanted you to be free labor, he could at least give you the decency of his lovely presence. But no, it was just you, all day long. All by your lonesome, with nary a cute theater-kid adjacent wizard to keep you entertained with his company. It was a travesty really. But anyways, where was he. Better not be having fun without you.

You like to think your thoughts summoned him. He came in through the back door, panting, disheveled. Singed? He frantically looked out the door’s window into the alleyway from which he had just came from, looking for something. Whatever it was, he must have seen it, since he looked panic-stricken. In a painfully obvious attempt to swallow the fear, he turned to you, trying his best to sound nonchalant.

“SO. You know that thing? The surprise? Well. It is here a little sooner than I expected it to bE—” A loud crashing noise came from the alleyway. “Oh, fuzzbuckets.”

You dropped the book in your hand. “WHAT DID YOU DO.”

There was another very loud crash, this time closer. Douxie glanced back for less than a moment before rushing over to you, taking you hand.

“I’ll just have to tell you on the way love, come on!”

You two fled out the front door of the shop like your tails were on fire. Speaking of tails on fire, once you rounded the shop to the alleyway, you found out just what Douxie had been running from that was making such loud noises. Hellheetis. Five large hellheetis. Blazing bright in the Arcadian dusk. How the neighbors haven’t already called the cops or the fire department was a mystery. The large lion-like creatures growled, stalking down the alley. It was only a matter of seconds before they smelled and or spotted you and went back into the chase. You had to make a plan and fast. Distracting you from your thoughts, Douxie nervously laughed beside you.

“hehe, uh, could you believe there was only one of these at the start?”

You slowly turned to the wizard, “Did you,, hit them, Hisirdoux?” You could call him that now because you were in fact pissed off at the moment.

“Only twice.”

“Only twice… Okay”

“I may not be the best at monster identification. Or remembering which tactic to use for which.”

“I can see that.” You tried to keep your voice as calm as you could, which got a little easier to do as the hellheetis turned down a different alleyway, putting some more distance between them and you. They were still searching though, that was apparent. Thankfully the stench of the alley trash was keeping you covered.

“Believe me, Archie gets onto me about this all the time.”

“It’s okay… just. I think I have a plan. But one of us has to be bait. And it’s going to be you.”

“That’s fair.”

You sprinted up the stairs of the bookstore and up through the ceiling hatch onto the rooftop. You first instinct was to get them to the center of the square, where you could use the fountain as a water source. The alley they had started going down opened up to the square anyhow. It would have been a straight shot. But dear Mr. Casperan made a fuss about that being too out in the open or whatever.

Next solution. The bookstore’s rooftop had a facet, Douxie told you. You’d like to imagine it was put there so some nice old lady could have had a sweet rooftop garden without too much hassle. Maybe you should start a sweet rooftop garden. You and Douxie could have a little oasis in the city up here. You could grow veggies and flowers for your table. Maybe make a cute little picnic area. Stargaze at night. The facet. You quickly found it and made work of turning it on. Or at least you tried your best. You could hear roaring, getting louder, getting closer. The scary growls and roars were punctuated by Douxie’s frantic footsteps, grunts, and gasps. Please don’t get eaten, Douxie.

The facet was so rusty, it took all of your strength to get it to budge. And then nothing came out really, the hose attached to it lifeless without so much as a trickle. You tried to unscrew it from the facet to see if there was a problem and the metal part of the hose disintegrated in your hand. Okay. No water was in fact coming out of that facet.

Imaginary sirens rang in your ears. You had to get water, fast, or your partner was gonna be kit & kadouxle. Hellheeti chow. Growl mix. Douxies. Fiery feast. The big cats were gonna eat him okay. After managing to get the facet turned as fast as you could, fueled on pure adrenaline, and still getting little to no water, you made a judgement call of fuck that. Magic time. To be completely frank here that should have been what you had done in the fucking first place, but hey, fear dulls the mind.

Gathering up as much water as you could, like, metaphorically feel in the pipe, you pulled that shit out with all your might. Aaaannddd because of this you may have not actually remembered that you would need to catch said water in order to, you know, use it. Instead of a nice bubble to be used at your discretion, a magic roof-water tidal wave washed over you and over the side of the building into the alley below. Thank your lucky fucking stars that Douxie just so happened to have gotten the fire felines to the right spot in time. The uncontrollable rain rushed down, dissipating the hellheetis, soaking Douxie darling, and flooding not only your alley but all the alleys connected to it. Holy shit, stop it! STOP IT! It took a second, but you did finally get the river to stop pouring out of your rooftop. Fingers crossed there were no basement windows open and all your neighbors had flood insurance. And that no one saw. Can’t be connected to you if no one saw right. Shhhhhh.

You peered over the ledge to see if Douxie was alright down below. He looked like a cat caught in the rain himself. You probably did too. Douxie’s soaked bangs covered his eyes. Nevertheless, he was able to see you up on the ledge and gave you a thumbs up. You awkwardly returned it.

Toweling off your hair, and now in nice dry pajamas, you walked out of the bathroom to join Douxie on the couch. His own hair towel hung around his shoulders. You took a moment to enjoy how cute he looked all ready for bed, cozy in the blankets on the couch. And that semi-wet hair was looking pretty nice too. You only allowed yourself to linger on this for that moment however, as you remembered you were supposed to be mad at him right now. You crossed your arms as you approached the wizard.

“SO, dearest Hisirdoux, may I have the decency of getting to ask the question, WHY.”

“Funny story really.”

“Really?” You raised a brow

“Really.”

Douxie fidgeted with his hands. You watched this little nervous gesture intently as you sat down next to him. He took a deep breath before beginning,

“First thing. You’ve been here for some time now, and I thought it was enough time for me to start sharing my little, er, excursions with you,” Douxie’s face flushed a little, “I like monster hunting, and now that I know that I like you, I thought I’d like it more if I brought you along with me?”

Your face was flushed a little too now. “Hey, stop it, I need to be mad at you.” Yeah well the smile you wore gave up any pretense of that. Sorry.

“I didn’t know how familiar you were with monsters or how skilled at fighting you were, so I decided to go get some test monsters from Mervin the Monster Dealer, just to make sure our first time would be safe. FIRST TIME MONSTER HUNTING TOGETHER.”

You stifled a chuckle. “And you didn’t just ask me?”

“It was supposed to be a cool surprise okay.” He buried his face in his hands.

“… Hellheetis?” Safe monster your ass.

“Yes, I mean no, I- Mervin sold me the wrong thing alright. I thought I was buying those cute little fire sprite things you can easily just put out with your boot.”

This time you did not hold back that laughter. And you laughed, and Douxie laughed, and soon both of you were uncontrollably cackling until you were out of breath. Archie came in to see what the commotion was about and then promptly turned back around to go back to his spot in the window. You clutched your chest, still cracking up despite the lack of oxygen. Douxie wiped some tears from his eyes you were sure hoping were just from laughing too hard. You rubbed a hand on his back.

“So, I think I’ve had enough excitement for one day. How bout movie night?”

Douxie’s tired eyes smiled at you, “Yeah, I think that would be lovely.”

“Hey, I had a good first monster hunt, Douxie. Thank you,” You pulled your cold feet up under your legs, “But could you stop hogging the blankets!”

#douxie x reader #hisirdoux casperan x reader #douxie x y/n #tales of arcadia x reader #douxie imagine #hisirdoux casperan imagine #Douxie Casperan x reader #tales of arcadia imagine #douxie #my writing #watsp

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wallwriterstuff · 3 years

Text

Our Dearest Moments ||Alec Volturi x Reader||

Warnings: None, this is nice and fluffy

Words: 2964

Summary: A request for @royalvolturisblog Forever is a long time to live, an occasionally a little reflection upon who we are and how we got here is needed to maintain our sanity, and decided some very important answers to equally as important questions.

Sometimes, life is not all we expect it to be. Sometimes, life is cruel. Sometimes, life is disappointing. For me? I can safely say it’s none of these things. My life had always been easy, the best of everything and wanting for nothing. As doting as he was, my father had spoilt me rotten and never let me work hard for anything, never given me life skills that most normal people would need to live a functioning, adult existence. Why would I need them? Money was not a problem for my family nor would it ever be, so why go to the hassle of building a life where a nine to five job sapped the life from me when I could, quite sustainably, simply enjoy my life to its fullest at my loving father’s expense? Why make your child work if there was no need? I would not settle for a subpar life as nothing in my life had ever been less than luxurious.

That was my life in a nutshell. It was flat screen TVs in a ginormous bedroom which would have fit some people’s houses inside it, four poster beds and every new games console, every makeup palette fresh off the manufacturers line and vacations to the most remote and lavish corners of the Earth. I never even had to ask for some of it, my father simply expected I would want things and provided them without request – as those of guilt soul are wont to do.

“Well? What do you say?” Alec asked, his lips pressing the gentlest of kisses against my shoulder. I hummed, leaning back against him.

“Forgive me, I was hardly listening to a word you said, my mind is…elsewhere.” I admitted. Alec squeezed my hips, arms widening around my waist to tighten his hold on me.

“You’re ignoring me now? How very rude. I thought we were passed this.” He chided, though his tone was more playful than scolding.

“Call it introspection.” I sighed. Alec chuckled.

“Introspection? Now that sounds dangerous. I happen to like you as you are, if you haven’t noticed.” He teased, pressing a kiss to my temple. I turned in his arms with a smile. He stood a little taller than I did but I didn’t mind; it always gave me the best angle of the soft curve of his jawline, the fullness of his lips that didn’t like to stray from my own for too long. It also gave me the perfect excuse to nestle my head against his collarbone, escape those all seeing crimson eyes of his. Alec had seen right through me from the very start.

“I happen to know, you inform me every day…you sap.” I smiled a little as he lifted a hand to play with my hair.

“Then why decide to be introspective? What is there to reflect on? What would you wish to change?” he questioned.

“I already have changed,” I pointed out, lifting my hand to play with his coven crest, “I actually work for a living now.” Alec actually laughed at that, pulling back to feign shock.

“You? Spoilt? I would never have guessed.” he teased. He wasn’t wrong. Even now my room was lavish, silks and fine fabrics and luxuries filling every corner, but at least this time I had worked for it. Being a part of the Volturi was a privilege in itself but it required hard work, it required proving your worth and working for the greater good of your species. It was rather odd, how I had turned my entire life philosophy around in the span of a few centuries. Maybe it was Alec, making me humbler and wiser. Perhaps I owed some of it to Vladimir and Stefan, who had taught me to fight for what I wanted rather than throw money at it. I could still remember that fateful day, though faces and names were murky now in my ‘old age’.

Samuel and Scott were two boys I had craved the presence of a lot in my human days, though I couldn’t honestly tell you why anymore. Perhaps it was the familiarity of money, or the comfort that came from knowing someone of your status and experience walked alongside you and understood your world view, but they were the closest friends I had for a long time. What was better than going on vacation with your friends at the closing of exam season? Rome had been beautiful, the sights enamouring and the food…I suppose it was okay – my tastebuds had changed since then. I could still vividly recall the kind of heat I wasn’t accustomed to back home, and the dazzling brightness of the sunlight that spotted my vision and made my ever blurry human memories seem even worse quality somehow. I also remembered laughter, and warmth, the kind of warmth that flooded your soul and felt like a good hug on the worst of days. It was strange, the things that stayed with you.

Then there was too much warmth. The process to immortalise one’s body came at the cost of burning the eternal soul till only a shell was left behind, petrified and cold. That was how Stefan put it at least in his usual, grim way. The memories of my time with them had most certainly been the most vivid, since I was very much a vampire by then and I could remember every little glance, every change in the tone of their voice. Those days….those days were full of anger. My doting father taken from me, my best friends none the wiser as to where I had gone and yet never once pleading on the news for my safe return as most others did for their loved ones. Through time and trial and error, Vladimir and Stefan had shown me that I had actually lost nothing in this life, only gained. I was stronger, swifter, better than any human version of myself could ever be.

Then came the gift.

It had been purely accidental at first. Another boy taken in by Stefan only to be turned (in what I would later find out was an attempt at raising a small army) was similarly gifted. He had the quite remarkable ability to make anything he touched smaller or larger, depending on what he wished it to look like, and unintentionally I had taken his gift to use for myself. He hadn’t stayed much longer after that, Vladimir and Stefan reluctant to let him part but allowing it – only because they knew the Volturi would send the Guard after an unruly newborn causing havoc. Why should they need him when they had me? They had been the ones to train my gift, an enhanced trait from my human life they had said – as I had taken what I wanted then I could do so now with startling efficiency. By the time Alec had arrived I had not truly gotten it under control, hence my confrontation with Jane.

It turns out the unruly newborn had been smarter than we thought, and the Masters’ had dispensed the Guard to see about this gifted vampire the Romanian’s had collected. At this point it had been months since we’d even seen the boy, years since Vladimir and Stefan had stolen me from Rome’s streets on one of their daring missions taking them close to Volturi territory. My gift had made me indispensable to them, though I like to believe that on some level they cared for me as a person, given all the gifts and birthday celebrations they had indulged in for me. There had been trips and movie nights all at my request, and affectionate gestures such as hugs and chaste kisses to my forehead that had lulled me into the false sense of security that I was where I ought to be.

“Your mind keeps wondering. I happen to be trying to ask you a very important question.” Alec was sounding a tad frustrated with me now and my eyebrows furrowed.

“I’m sorry, really, I just…do you ever have one of those days where you feel like you can’t escape thinking about the past? Thinking about the things that led you to this moment?” I sighed. It was perhaps a tad dramatic, perhaps even silly of me to be this distracted by such errant thoughts, but they wouldn’t leave me be. Alec stared at me for a long moment, and then he tucked a lock of stray hair behind my ear and swept me off of my feet to seat us on the sofa before our fireplace. Draped across his lap as I was, he had made me his sole focus and gave me his undivided attention now.

“I can’t say I do, so explain it to me. What are you thinking of in particular?” he questioned. My head tilted slightly, the briefest of smiles tugging at my lips.

“Demetri fixing up his nose the day we met.” I giggled. Alec snorted, eyes rolling.

“Vladimir did hit him rather hard.” He agreed. The commotion hadn’t much bothered me, my head buried too deep in my book to really be bothered by such trivial things, but then he had screamed. It was a blood-curdling kind of scream, the sort you heard in slasher movies when the victim is disposed of. It was the first time I had seen Jane’s gift in action, and the only time since I had stolen it. I had only meant to shove the menacing little blonde away from the man I had grown to see as a second father, only to accidentally set her own gift on her. She had crumpled like a straw doll, screaming all the while, and anyone else who came at me went down the same way.

Felix, Demetri and Jane just writhed on the stone floor while I tried and failed to keep Alec at bay, the mate bond I had unknowingly just set with him the moment we locked eyes preventing me from hurting him and vice versa. His mist had danced at the edges of my feet as he gave me more warnings than I was sure was customary of a Guard with his reputation until I managed to calm the raging inferno in my own mind, and douse the flames in theirs.

“Then you misted me.” I recalled, scowling at him slightly. Alec looked amused.

“You were getting rather violent,” he pointed out, “I’d merely suggested an even trade, their lives for you accompanying us to Volterra, and poor Demetri lost his nose a second time that day.” I could still recall the crunch of his skin beneath my knuckles as I vowed to never let them take me anywhere, and now two centuries on I couldn’t bear the thought of being anywhere other than in Alec’s lap. His hand skimmed my arm as I dropped my head on his shoulder.

“You think he would forgive me for that by now.” I said. Alec chuckled and kissed my forehead.

“Not in a million years, his ego is more fragile than his nose.” He murmured against my skin. I hadn’t been happy for a very long time after that. Dragged away from my home against my will and told it was all for a mate bond I hadn’t been ready to accept. I was cruel, very cruel, and I called Alec all sorts of filthy names. Neither him nor Jane had ever really done me wrong, yet still I rarely addressed them as anything other than ‘witch’ or ‘terrors 1 and 2’. I spent the majority of my days avoiding as many people as I could really, though I found Marcus to be quite calming and consequently ended up with the Masters’ more often than not. It was with their encouragement I ended up confronting my two-arch nemesis, their gentle prodding that had led me into Alec’s arms in the end.

“God I’m sure your mother would weep if she could see you now!”

“She did! She wept and pleaded with the villagers tying us to the stake until they caved her head in with stones. How about yours?”

I cringed slightly, the memory as fresh as if it had been just yesterday. Jane had looked ready to roast me that day, while Alec had cut me down to size with his words. Their mother’s fate, their deaths, they were nothing such of tragic incidents that should never have occurred, not to these two. It had triggered a memory I had thought had faded as most other human memories had, though I could see no eyes in the soft, familiar features of my mother’s face given I couldn’t remember the colour of them. She had been reaching for me in my dreams for years, that single bloodied hand protruding from the wreckage of a car only I had escaped from haunted me to this day. How far I had strayed from the woman she would have wanted me to become.

“How could you forgive me?” I asked finally. Alec raised his eyebrows.

“For punching Demetri in the face? Quite easily. I found it entertaining.” He answered.

“Not for that! For…everything else. I was nothing short of difficult and downright cruel to you.” I reminded him. Alec tilted his head, quietly making a noise of understanding. It wasn’t so long ago Alec had asked me to marry him, at least, five years didn’t seem all that long for a vampire. He shifted till I was facing him, straddling his lap and chest to chest with our noses almost touching.

“I forgave you because I loved you, even then. I didn’t see cruelty, I saw hurt that never truly healed. Our scarred hearts were made for one another, even if you weren’t ready to accept it.” He murmured.

“But all those awful names I called you…” I sighed, closing my eyes as shame ate away at my insides. Alec chuckled.

“Some were quite inventive, I’ll give you that,” he said wryly, “Y/N…you replaced every bad memory with a good one. The time you gifted me that bookmark because you knew how much I loved to read? The memory of our first walk in the Garden’s together where you taught me all about gardening and when the best time of year to plant certain flowers was. Our first kiss, the first time you held my hand even. You made the effort to make it right.” He kissed my nose sweetly before capturing my lips with his. His every kiss had been intoxicating since our very first one, the sweet taste of his mouth on mine addictive, the way his lips moved a hypnotic dance I could forever get lost in performing with him over and over. When we parted I pressed my forehead to his.

“I do love you, you know.” I swore. Alec flashed me a smile.

“I know, you impossible little brat,” he teased, tugging my hair lightly, “Now will you please listen to what I’ve been so desperately trying to ask you all day now?” My eyes rolled, but I nodded.

“Make it worth my while, baby.” I teased.

“Don’t, you know I hate when you call me that,” he warned, though his lips twitched upwards, “Y/N, my impossibly stubborn, talented little beauty. I’ve never been in doubt you love me, and I hope I’ve never given you reason to doubt that I love you just as much. You challenge and enrage me daily, yet you are also my greatest comfort and strength when I need you to be. So stop being so bloody awkward and marry me already!”

“That wasn’t a question.” I pointed out, eyebrows raising. Alec groaned exasperatedly, his head falling back against the back of the sofa. My head tilted slightly.

If my day of reflection had done anything, it was show me how far I had come. I was no longer the same spoiled little girl I had once been. I had become a protector of our kind, and my journey with Alec had humbled my tongue. I was perhaps wiser, far kinder. I had not felt worthy of the mantle before but seeing him beneath me now, my love so ardent in his affection and persistent in his showing of it, I realised I had no need to be afraid – I had proven my worth to Alec tenfold. Gripping his chin, I forced him to look at me. He looked rather frustrated.

“This is the modern era Alec,” I scolded, “I will never say yes to your proposal.”

“But-“

“Because you are going to be saying yes to mine. Marry me, Alec.” I didn’t ask, more stated it. I knew he wouldn’t say no. With another exasperated groan he shook his head.

“You do make me work for it don’t you? So long as I slip a ring on your finger I really don’t care who asks who. Fine, I’ll marry you.” He leaned in but I pressed a single finger to his lips, preventing him from kissing me. His eyebrows arched into his hairline, almost as if to say ‘what now?’.

“It’ll be a Winter wedding.” I decided. A brief smile flashed his lips upwards.

“Spring.” He retorted.

“And the bridesmaids will wear emerald green.” I continued.

“Peach.” He countered, his smile growing as I pulled my finger from his lips.

“Oh and I want diamonds Alec, they’re a girls best friend.” I grinned, our noses brushing now.

“You’ll get a cereal box ring and be happy with it for all the waiting you’ve made me do.” He huffed. I didn’t get to protest, not when he smothered my mouth with his own, both of us laughing as we let the past be and looked forward to our future instead.

#twilight #twilight fanfiction #volturi #alec volturi #x reader #alec volturi x reader #vladimir #stefan #the romanians #dracula 1 and 2

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davidmann95 · 3 years

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So you've talked a lot about Darkseid, but what about the other New Gods?

SO THIS HAS BEEN IN MY INBOX FOR ALMOST AS LONG AS THIS BLOG’S BEEN AROUND AND I JUST FINALLY FINISHED FOURTH WORLD

Well that sure was something. My musings on some major players that I either have substantial thoughts on, or where I especially think the majority consensus/interpretation has subsequently gotten them wrong (a state Kirby is well aware of, because a HUGE part of “Even Gods Can Die!” is him being frustrated at subsequent handlings of the characters even by 1984 mucking things up):

Orion: Perhaps the most hard-done by as a result of Kirby never being able to fully finish Fourth World as he had imagined it, as his character arc ends on a cliffhanger for a decade and is forced into a rapid completion later. When he emerges, while a warrior born he’s also every bit the classical, magnificent hero you expect to see in a superhero comic to try and overshadow his inner demons, while by the end of New Gods he’s embraced not only his true face (the OTHER face, as his father would put it) in the fight against Apokolips but the murderous, sadistic rage that is his birthright, reveling in inflicting agony and very much the berserker others have since portrayed him as. Surely as much a product of his trauma from a childhood on Apokolips (a detail frequently glossed over) and a sense of being unwanted as anything genetic, it’s ultimately unconditional love for him as he truly is in Hunger Dogs that lets him overcome his fear that he can’t be anything but a monstrous tool in service of better people than himself, and embrace ‘the tomorrow overture’. Even his anger has its righteous if tragic place as a primal force of upheaval: “It defies time! It stands firm against the hammers of change! It mocks life and defies death!” I won’t get to it for awhile yet, but very curious what Simonson does with him.

Lightray: Rules! He’s the closest the New Gods have to a traditional superhero, and it’s in that capacity that while a lousy warrior next to Orion (Kalibak thinks little of his attempt at fighting him, mockingly deeming him a “callow little killer”), his strength is in transformation: he makes himself light, he turns a tormented weapon into the glory boat, a machine armed against the New Gods into a weapon against Darkseid, Orion from a man alone into a friend. He’s not a warrior, but he’s the one who makes a better world worth waging war for and who might one day make such war unnecessary. Also he and Orion have definitely fucked.

Mister Miracle: Not WILDLY off the mark since, but it’s interesting that as I expect a result of JLI he’s been written so often since as an everymanish, relatable, bordering-on-comedic figure, when under Kirby he was very much the archetypal good guy. One often committed to freeing others as he had been freed himself, in the likes of Ted Brown and Shilo Norman, an avenue I’m surprised hasn’t been explored more often from what I’ve seen. Also worth noting: Darkseid declared the moment he got his hands on the kid that Granny would be twice as hard on him as others, and that it would eventually drive the boy away and let the war resume. Which not only indicates Darkseid’s understanding of the subtlety needed in control, but would seem to take Scott’s rebellion out of his own hands…except that at the moment of his escape Darkseid still offered him a choice, implored the boy to allow him to “complete the destruction of Scott Free – so you may live with the majesty that is the power of DARKSEID!” And instead he turned his back on his god and chose to be what he is.

Barda: Shockingly, great as she’s been since, her background is often severely mischaracterized. The shorthand is “love saved her and turned her from a servant of evil to a champion of good!”, but that’s…while not entirely wrong, a bad way of presenting it. When she leaves Apokolips initially, even after she starts hanging out with Scott Free and Oberson after having helped the former escape years earlier, she still believes in Darkseid. She fights and hates her former allies not because she’s turned against his vision of the universe (this is in fact a major aspect often overlooked - under Kirby Darkseid’s agents don’t simply fear him, they sincerely believe in him and his vision of how the universe works) but because she sees them as loathsome, brutish executors of his grand design. In short, she doesn’t think it’s the system that’s the problem, but a bunch of bad apples. It’s her experience with freedom and simple pleasures and life on Earth, her lingering guilt over the death of her friend Auralie as eventually manifested in her protection and training of Shiloh Norman, and yes, her eventual realized love for Scott, that brings her around to realizing she truly desires a life beyond what Darkseid can offer.

Forever People: Okay I actually don’t have a ton to say about the Forever People, though I do think they’re underrated and underutilized. Naive and in over their heads as the frequently are they’re also the best of their peers, believing in freedom and transformation and the potential of those around them to become better - their defining moment for me is when they reassure Sonny Sumo that having the power of the Anti-Life Equation doesn’t make him a monster. “Where we come from the Anti-Life Equation is one of many others–almost as awesome!! But they merely exist!! It’s we who live!!”

Metron: The big figure I haven’t really been able to crack. Machinery as not necessarily cold mechanization but extensions of ourselves and our souls, and able to nourish them in turn, is a big aspect of Fourth World, but Metron as the embodiment of mechanization and knowledge feels like not just an outsider as he’s framed but one who never quite became whatever Kirby had in mind for him, making his crucial role at the end of Hunger Dogs a bit of a non-sequitur for me. I’d be curious to hear what other people think.

Desaad: God Desaad’s been made boring. Not that he isn’t fairly one-dimensional under Kirby too, but his craft and awful glee as the god of torture isn’t just in strapping people to tables and poking them with unpleasant tools, it’s in manipulating their emotions and agonies to a fever pitch - he should be such an unsettling figure, and instead he’s a simpering helpless toady.

Highfather: Not a perfect figure, given how he’s framed with the likes of Fastbak, and the Forever People, and the Pact, willing to deploy fear as a weapon in the name of peace as Darkseid will use chaos in the name of a larger order, but always trying - as with Darkseid, an imperfect vessel of what he represents, but capable of growth and realization as a leader.

Steppenwolf/Heggra: Essential to understanding The Pact, they’re the old ways of the world and war, petty despots and warrior-kings, supplanted by fascism in Darkseid.

Darkseid: So I’ve discussed Darkseid before in terms of his broad use and ideas, but the very specific ways Kirby presented him have their own dimensions. In the world of superheroes he’s larger-than-life and often such in here too, but in rare moments, and by the end entirely as all artifice is stripped away? Kirby’s Darkseid is a profoundly human figure. He recognizes the irony that the Forever People believe in letting all be who they are, for that very need to fulfill himself is why he must pursue conquest (“And of course - that’s the pity of it!”). While he thinks to himself “Oh, how heroes LOVE to flaunt their nobility in the face of death! Yet THEY know better than most that war is but the COLD game of the BUTCHER!” he too believes in “Boldness! Risk! The raw meat of existence!” even as he consigns himself to the role of puppetmaster rather than warrior. He does or so he tells himself “no more than what HAS to be done!!” rather than indulging in cruelty for its own sake. He dresses up in ridiculous costumes for his schemes, he gets sarcastic, he recognizes honor and respects worthy foes, he feels love, he craves the laughter of a friend, he fears the obsolesce of his preferred way of doing things, he tells himself that should he achieve omnipotence others will find “eternal shelter”. He’s a person, one capable of a range of emotions, but he is the TIGER FORCE AT THE CORE OF ALL THINGS regardless…not because he is a mythic unstoppable force, but because every day he rises and believes in himself over all others, because there is a black hole within him that he can only hope dominance might fill regardless of what pain he finds in the process. But as Mister Miracle’s battle with the Lump foretold, when left truly alone over a world that is himself he will be only within “a self-made prison”, reflections of his own fear and agony.

#New Gods #Fourth World #Kirby #Orion #Lightray #Mister Miracle #Barda #Forever People #Metron #Desaad #Highfather #Darkseid #Opinion

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trash-but-respectable-trash · 3 years

Text

Headcanons of what life in the Devildom would be like if my best friend and I were both exchange student at the same time:

Heads up! This is completely self-indulgent content. I made this as a gift for my best friend: @beel-is-a-snack love you bitch 😘

Lucifer:

- Lucifer would probably really hate us at first.

- It’s feels to him like everywhere we go together, something really weird will happen

- It’s things he cannot link to us, but he knows it’s because of us because these things never happened before

- At first, we probably wouldn’t listen to his orders, we didn’t leave a controlling household just to go to another one

- A single punishment (and not the kinky kind) would be all it takes for us to never disobey his orders again

- It would come at no surprise that I would immediatly have a fat crush on him and that I would talk about him all the time to you, even though you wouldn’t understand what I see in him at first

- The more you would notice how much he cares about his brothers, the more you would like him. You two would developed a mutual understanding about taking the role of the parent by default even if that wasn’t your choice

- You two could probably also relate to each other’s daddy issues sorry love you

- With time you two could be really close friends, but probably not more than that, because he’s mine

- Don’t worry we’ll find you a more suitable boyfriend

- He definitely wouldn’t try to come between our friendship and would never be jealous of it either

- He would give us plenty of time alone, but even if he didn’t, we couldn’t even try to speak French around him because I’m 100% sure he also speak French as a second or third or fourth language

- We would probably found out about it the hard way while I would either tell you how handsome he is or you telling me he’s a control freak and he would just reply to us in perfect French

- Yeah we would only make that mistake once

Mammon

- Mammon also hates us at first, he has to take care of TWO humans?? That’s asking too much of him, he can barely take care of himself

- After a while, it would probably be the other way around as we would be the ones taking care of him

- He cannot decide which one of us he loves more (probably the one who gives him the most attention and positive reinforcement)

- He quickly becomes jealous of our friendship and tries to hangout with us every chances he gets

- It can be a bit awkward when we’re trying to talk about boys, since we’re likely talking about his brothers

- We would need to have codes to refer to the brothers or we could use French when we don’t want him to understand what we’re saying, since he’s definitely too dumb to understand French

- It was 100% clear in our minds that neither of us would end up dating Mammon as we both need someone who could mentally stimulates us

- Also he would for sure steal our stuff out of our rooms and try to sell them

- After a full week of silent treatment from both of us, he wouldn’t ever try to steal our stuff again

- He would try to trick us in participating in his shaninagans, but we would probably report it to Lucifer just to see Mammon get punish (ok mostly me, but I would drag you with me to see the aftermath)

- Never suspects us of being the one who snitch him all the time to Lucifer, he probably thinks it’s Levi

Leviathan

- Oh boy. Opposite to Lucifer and Mammon, it’s us who hates him at first

- What the fuck is that hair style, why is he always screaming and talking an hundred miles an hour rambling about animes and Ruri-Chan, who’s Ruri-Chan??

- Probably calls us normies until he finds out you had a Naruto collection when you were 13 years old and that you used to love mangas

- And that I now enjoy some animes and mangas myself, so now he calls both of us weebs, which isn’t much better honestly

- We would TOLERATE gaming with him if he isn’t screaming all the fucking time

- We would immediately leave any room we’re in everytime he says “Woooooaaaahhhh”

- He needs to shut up or else we can never be friends with him

- He also gets jealous of our friendship, he wish he had a best friend with such a strong bond, yeah he has Henry 2.0 but it’s just not the same you know

- He wonders if his friendship with Ruri-Chan would be similar to ours if she was real

- He tried to become really close with Solomon to recreate our friendship, but Solomon spent his time trying to form a pact with Levi so he ended it

Satan

- I have to say that I think that Satan and I are the most similar

- We’re both intelligent, independent and observant individuals who do not tolerate dumb people, we both enjoy reading a bit too much, we’re both messy, we’re both way too honest and we’re pros at hiding our anger (especially towards stupidity)

- Ok, so I’m not saying you wouldn’t get along with Satan, I just think you wouldn’t have much in common with him and by that I mean that’s he’s a very rational being and the best form of art in his eyes is writing

- I think what would make it or break it for both of you is his and your knowledge on all forms of arts and the history being it. Satan would probably test you and if you pass in his eyes, you can be friends, otherwise he would consider you unworthy

- Yeah I know it’s rough, but you don’t need a friend who needs to test you on your knowledge about art to see if you two can be friends

- Even if you pass the test, I don’t see you two being super close as he is mostly in his room reading and you would be in your studio, doing all of your art projects

- In any case, you guys would have to get along somehow since he would probably be the one I would be closest with and you’re my best friend so obviously you two would have to hang out by default quite a lot

- When you would be in your studio, I would probably be at the library or in Satan’s room reading

- We would also all study together and use Satan as our tutor for classes were we have more difficulty (but you’re lucky, there’s no French class given at RAD so you should do fine)

Asmodeus

- If we push aside the lust part of him and focus on his other personality traits, Asmo would like us from the start

- Two best friends how fun! He would probably tell us how Solomon is his best friend before finding out later by Solomon that it isn’t true

- Asmo is a lonely demon, sure he gets plenty of physical attention, but no one cares about him past his beauty

- We would be the one to change that, we would both see further than his beauty, but also further than his narcissistic ways to find out who the real Asmo is

- He’s the insecure one who only wants to be love. We would both act as his therapist. Sometimes he would confess to us while doing our nails and makeup or sometimes he would just start sobbing on my lap or your lap, pouring his heart out and telling us his deepest fears and secrets because he finally feels safe enough to say these things to someone

- He would probably crave our attention and comfort the more and more we listen to him. We would need to set boundaries or else we would feel like we’re suffocating. We both need our space and Asmo would have to understand that fact

- We would rub on him and he would slowly stop going out so much, instead appreciating his alone time the better he feels about himself

Beelzebub

- At first I would be a bit scared of him, he’s big and he keeps making comments about how delicious we look (and again, not in the kinky way)

- You on the other hand, would probably feel that he isn’t a bad guy at all and you would definitely see more than his angry looking face and his never ending comments about food

- Just a few conversations with him can tell how much he cares about his family and his twin in particular

- That man is such an himbo, but he also have a big heart just like you and you’re both so cute together

- Everyone ship the both of you even though you’re both emotionally dense and it would take a while for you and him to FINALLY be together

- It’s not that you didn’t love each other, it’s just that you never took the signs that the other one was sending you, mistaking it for simple kindness and nothing more

- He would probably have to just straight up tell you l that he’s in love with you for your relationship to go anywhere

- Basically everyone’s like “FINALLY” the moment you both annonce that you’re officially dating

- Wedding and kids would come shortly after that

- You’re both very family oriented and are both super vanilla so that’s a winning couple if I’ve ever seen one

Belphegor

- Ok first of all, if we were the MC, Belphie would 100% still be locked in the attic

- It would only take one warning from Lucifer for us to never go up those stairs again

- But for the sake of this, let’s say you knew this was Beel’s brother and you loved Beel so much that you were ready to face the consequences to save his brother

- And let’s say I wasn’t aware of this, because if I were and we both decided to go up the stairs anyway, it wouldn’t take me long at all before realizing that Belphie is lying to us and that we cannot trust him

- If I wasn’t aware of you going up the stairs by yourself, you’re so trusting of everyone that you would for sure do the same thing as the MC and free Belphegor just to get yourself killed. I told you dozens of time, don’t trust everyone!

- Anyway, let’s say we both died somehow (I probably got killed by Lucifer once he found out what you did) and Barbatos and Diavolo brought us to a timeline were we didn’t die

- Well, let’s say the saying “I forgive but I never forget” would represent me 100%

- I would be forgiving for the sake of Beelzebub, but Belphie and I would NEVER be close, whether it appears to be the case or not

- I might let him sleep on my lap or listen to him talk about how he loves his twin, but don’t get me wrong, I would never trust him or be his friend

- In your case, you would either be like me or you wouldn’t ever forgive him

- Forgivness isn’t always something you can control and you might always hold a grudge against him after what he did

- That could either destroy what you had with Beel, because he cannot date someone who hates his brother so much, or he could also understand how you feel, but he would still try to make you and his brother friends good luck with that

Diavolo

- Oh boy that’s my type of man right there

- What a fucking piece of ass

- Ok back on track, Diavolo would obviously be the one who’s most excited to have us in the Devildom

- He would always invite us for tea, asking us questions about the human world and laughing at our dumb stories

- We would troll him with human traditions that don’t exist like how you need to pray before eating chocolate truffle or how humans eat St-Hubert (a rotisserie restaurant comparable to Nando’s) every Sunday and how What Makes You Beautiful by One Direction is the national anthem of our country

- I can imagine him watching the video clip of What Makes You Beautiful that same night and being like “wow! That is beautiful!”

- Lucifer would be so mad at us, but it would be worth it

- We would also tell him that “thug life” and “yolo” are commonly use expression in the human world when you’re excited about something and he would start using them at the most random moments while everyone is like “???”

- We would totally hate every party hosted by Diavolo and we would 1000% leave to explore the castle only to get lost and then brought back by either Barbatos or Lucifer (lord have mercy)

- It doesn’t matter, we would do it everytime, choosing a different path everytime until we’ve explore every part of the castle (which would realistically never happen)

- Diavolo would probably give us a plan of the castle behind Lucifer’s back so we can explore the castle however we want. He himself, isn’t a fan of these events and would much rather hang out with us than be stuck making conversations with nobles he doesn’t care about

- Other than that, you would have to listen to me talk endlessly about how it isn’t fair that I cannot date both Lucifer AND Diavolo until I actually do

Barbatos

- This one is a difficult one, since we basically know nothing about the Butler

- We would probably have a good grasp of who he is if we were in the devildom, since we have pretty good intuitions on people

- I would probably talk to Barbatos about baking and all the different variations of tea, probably dropping way to soon a reference to Black Butler like he never heard the comparaison before

- Much like his devilgram story, he would probably invite me to get some specific type of tea that can only be purchase out of town, never implying that it’s a date even though he qualify it as one in his head

- There’s not much more to say about him, I think you would see him as Diavolo’s Butler more than a potential lover or close friend

Simeon

- Ouf poor sweet angel. Let’s state the obvious first, he would probably be very disappointed in me and my very obvious lust for certain demons

- Wouldn’t be happy with me straying further away from god each passing day

- I would defend myself by telling him I do pray and go once a year to church to ask God for forgiveness for all of my sins

- Yeah if I was in the Devildom, my list of sins I committed during my stay would be particularly long

- Still, I would have no regrets

- Ok, I have to say it, this angel is shady. I think we would sense that something isn’t right with him. His smile and energy are a little off, he’s definitely hiding something but what?

- If we had time to kill we could do some research on the matter and ask people around about what they know about Simeon, maybe spy on him while he’s out in town?

- We would probably get caught and ask by a very scary Simeon, to stop whatever we are doing

- Yeah let’s take the wise decision of staying away from him from now on

Solomon

- He would need to understand that it’s not because we’re all humans that we NEED to hang out together

- I would have to keep you away from him, or at least not let you hang out alone with him. I don’t think he’s evil, but he might use you as human experiment for his potions and spells and I don’t want you to accidentally be turned into a pig or something

- I’ll accept the occasional vines references wars and the team up to tell Diavolo even more made up things about the human world, but that’s all

- I would probably compare him to Harry Potter all the time

- Let’s just stay far away from the shady sorcerer

Luke

- I have no motherly instincts, but I would protect this child from all of the brothers teasing, but that’s about it. I really don’t care about this child, SIMEON COME PICK UP YOUR SON, HE POOPED HIMSELF AGAIN “Stephanie that’s not true!!” Luke would bark back as he tries to hide the streak of poop on the back of his white pants (sorry I don’t know why this came to mind, but I have this headcanon that sometimes when he’s afraid, Luke will poop his pants and this boy is VERY scared of Lucifer, so it happens quite often)

- You would probably be way more motherly towards him than me and you and Beel would basically adopt Luke as your own child

- Just always carry baby wipes and a clean pair of pants with you at all times and you’re all good

- I hope you like baking sweets, because your son will surely want to spend some bonding time with his mom over baking time, and of course you have to enjoy the sweets you both made over a nice cup of tea that Barbatos made for you two

#obey me #obey me!#obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me beelzebub #obey me diavolo #obey me asmodeus #obey me simeon #obey me belphegor #obey me solomon #obey me satan #obey me barbatos #obey me leviathan #obey me luke #damn so much tags #I hope you like them Patenron #they’re all for you

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florbelles · 3 years

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L Y R A + vowels? ❤

ty lovely!! xx content warning for lyra-typical content ( torture, violence, sex, death, her standard bullshit ). unavoidable angst on the y despite the titular fluff asks because this is the hell that i’m always living in.

A CTIVITIES. what do they like to do with their s/o? how do they spend their free time with them?

— torturing nonbelievers, killing the unworthy, fucking in the blood of sinners ( sin can only be cleansed with blood, they say; blood cleanses all, they say; not all, sayeth shaggy, stage left with the mop ), watching each other work, seedsplaining their life stories to heretics, monologuing like they’re on a helium inhale, tormenting shaggy, never shutting the fuck up, making the flock at large crave the release of seven years in a bunker apart from them, laughing at their mediocre-to-terrible jokes they believe are terribly witty, causing joseph immeasurable pain in behaving reprehensibly during sermons when he’s too occupied to give them the Look of Discontent.

in all seriousness, the main thing she does with her husband that she can with absolutely no one else is nothing at all. the closest thing they have to an off switch is with each other. look at them, nuzzling in the rocking chair on the porch. look how in love they are. they might be anyone. they might be entirely unburdened of who and what they are. they might simply exist, for a moment. they might simply be happy. how sweet. do not look too closely at the blood drying under her claws. do not listen too closely to the sounds from the shed. do not try to identify that lingering scent emanating from the fire pit; surely it’s only the hickory.

E QUAL. are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

— neither; lyra could never be in a partnership with someone she does not consider her equal in every respect. all her life she assumed she would be alone precisely because she knows what she is; she would never ask anyone to be in that position. she would never ask someone to live at a disadvantage. she would never want to be with someone who could not know the worst of it and choose her anyway. she needs someone who can keep up with her and can keep her on her toes. she needs someone who’s like her, who sees her, who understands her, who can meet her at her level. she truly needs her match; she would never accept anything less, for the sake of both her interest and her comfort level.

I NSPIRATION. did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

— on the contrary, they both hold the belief that everything they've been through and done and become has led them to this point ; they were meant for this, they were meant for each other, but they have already become who they need to be by the time their paths cross. everything led them to here, to each other, and for that, they can forgive the world nearly anything.

they don't alter each other, they don’t seek to, but they do bring out the extremes in the other; they fuel each other's fanaticism, messianic complexes, sadism, all of it. they indulge each other. they love each other completely, as they are, even the worst parts. perhaps especially those.

it might be said they temper the others’ self-destructive propensities, to an extent. she is perhaps more cautious because of him; she will never be truly cautious — not even he can give her impulse control or self-preservation instincts — but she is no longer quite so as expendable; there will be ramifications for someone who is not herself if she dies. she is no longer simply another damned soul, preying on the predators until she herself is slain. ( she has met her match, he did not slay her, he loved her instead; that was far more terrifying ). she is monstrous, but she is the monster he loves. she is nothing instead, but she is something also. ( lyra is obviously no longer at war with herself after finding her purpose in her the project, which is a fairly fundamental shift, but that can’t be attributed to john; she would have joined the project with or without him ).

of course loving him changes things, not in who she is, but in how it’s externalized ( this is how he saves her; all of her rage, all of her wrath, all of the passion and intensity and emotion and impulse that brews inside her, all of it is poured into loving him ). theirs is an obsessive, all-consuming, codependent love, and while being with him means she is wanted and loved and accepted and happy and at home for the first time in her life — and of course that changes things, of course it does, she is no longer afraid of herself, she is no longer consumed with loathing for what she is, because perhaps she is a monster, but god must love her, must, must, she must have done right, because go brought her here, god gave her him — but this also means that losing him leaves a truly irreparable void.

O N CLOUD NINE. what are they like when they are in love? is it obvious for others? how do they express their feelings?

— terrified. agonized. as giddy as a schoolgirl. she is deliriously, excruciatingly, passionately in love, or not at all; it’s everything or it’s nothing. ( she’s poor at expressing it with words. words she grew up with. words are so easily misunderstood. words are so easily fabricated. she cannot say she loves him. the words feel too weak. she is afraid they will rot in her mouth. she is afraid they will be as empty as every other time she heard it in her life. such a stupid word. such a small, stupid word ). nonetheless, it’s obvious, blindingly so, even from external observation; she lights up; she flushes; her heart still lurches when she sees him. she still feels drunk with it. she always will.

lyra’s love is ultimately something she demonstrates through acts, with sweat and tears and blood. she proves it with her body; physical intimacy is the only kind of intimacy she knows how to express. ( forgive me; i know only how to love violently ). she proves it with a simple, i see you: i know you; i am going to let you see me. i am going to let you know me.

she does not say i love you. she says i chose you, and he knows what it means.

she drops into warm familiarity; her enemies are greeted with “hello, darling,” her husband gets a simple “hi, john.” she does not mask her soft, light voice. she curls around him when he sleeps to feel the blood beating through his veins and his breath on her neck. she murmurs insensibly to him. she willingly surrenders all of her defenses.

( they could kill each other. they could destroy each other. they have always known this. they have always known what they are ).

she decides she’s going to let him.

U NDERSTANDING. how well do they know their partner? are they empathetic?

— she knows him better than anyone. she knows him immediately. she sees him. she recognizes him. she understands him. that’s all she’s ever wanted, to have that with someone. for them to know her. she wouldn’t even asked to be loved; she knows how much that asks. but yes. she does. he’s her own heart; whatever he feels, she does.

Y EARNING. how will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

— she simply does not.

her separation anxieties with john go deeper than simply missing him because of the fact that joseph insists that, if he should die young, he dies alone, so whenever she is parted from him for any substantial amount of time and he is left alone she is actually, physically crippled. she was separated from him once for five days at the beginning of the reaping; she couldn’t keep anything down. she couldn’t sleep. mary may found her crawling on the floor of the spread eagle dry heaving on the second day, and it was downhill from there.

she’s entirely comatose immediately following his death; she shows little improvement for months. she wears nothing but his trench; she won’t wash because his blood dried on her skin before the end of everything, because she’ll never have him inside her again and she can’t scrub him away, because she can’t move, because she can’t swallow or scream and her insides have run too dry to swallow or cry or blink. ( it’s entirely possible she never would have functioned again, had joseph not told her the voice returned to him; he had almost given up on her survival by then; surely there was little human left in her ).

she might externally be more or less restored to her former self after that, but the truth is that she never recovers, not really; she slips out to his grave every night and sleeps with her fingers buried in the dirt. she talks to him, sometimes, or hums, or sings, even though he’s not there, even though she can’t feel him. all her life she’s played roles, and she plays herself exceptionally well, but a fundamental part of herself died with him. she is playing someone who no longer exists. she is a phantom. the new world is her purgatory.

( he is her whole heart, don’t forget. )

she watches it ripped from her chest.

she keeps breathing.

she bleeds out for seventeen years.

she still counts herself the happiest woman who lived.

#answered #lilwritingraven #sorry about who she is as a person #oc: lyra fairbanks #asks: lyra

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wickedbarnes · 4 years

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m o n s t e r.

pairing: ransom drysdale x reader

prompt: ransom absolutely hates being rejected. he loathes it, it wounds his ego. so when he finds out that you weren't interested in him, the sheer determination of having you slowly turned into an unhealthy obsession.

trigger warnings: smut. non-con. dubcon. drugging. blackmailing. dark!ransom. do NOT read if any of these make you uncomfortable. 18+ readers ONLY.

note: i'm sorry if the smut may not be that good. i promise i'm trying to improve my smut writing skills :(

Ransom was the type of man who always gets what he wants one way or another. He wasn't the type to back down from a challenge nor was he the type to lose. He always makes sure he wins at the end. For him, nothing tasted so sweet than to have things go his way. He was that type of man and he was proud to admit that.

If he wanted a new car, he'd get it. If he wanted to party on the other side of the goddamn world, he'd book a ticket in a blink of an eye. If he wanted to fuck a girl or two, he'd get them on his knees in an instant. Ransom was a man who had everything. Power, wealth, good looks, you name it.

Being a Thrombey had its perks after all despite how much he dislikes his family.

But of course, there was this... unfortunate fact that not everything went his way. And he realized this the moment he laid eyes on the newest maid inside his grandfather, Harlan's mansion.

Y/N is what they called you. You were only working part-time as a means of earning money while you studied at college. It won't be long 'till you graduated so the student loans that you had needed to be paid and Harlan was generous and kind enough to pay you well.

Ransom took note of how full of life you were. Your eyes held some sort of innocence and purity in them. In fact, he'd be surprised if he ever found out you weren't a virgin. You seemed like the type that had never been properly touched by a man before. Either that, or you just hid that secret so well.

You greeted everyone kindly with a smile on your face and Ransom was sure everyone would be doting on you in no time. But when your doe eyes had fell on him, he saw the hesitation in them. But you quickly masked it with a faint smile, not quite as bright as the one that you gave to the others.

"Welcome back, Hugh." You'd say. And dare say, Ransom was impressed that you already knew he preferred that he was called Hugh by the helpers.

And you did. The first time you were hired, Marta and Fran were kind enough to show you around and taught you how things worked around here, even showed you how to properly serve Harlan's family members. However, it was Marta who told you about Hugh. You could remember her telling you to strictly steer clear from him and that whatever you did, you will only refer to him as Hugh.

And you, being the obedient employee that you are, you weren't planning on causing trouble and made sure to make mental notes of what she said.

So far, you were doing great. You were confused however, as to why she'd tell you to avoid him but when you saw how he treated his family members and the helpers that served him, you instantly understood why you needed to do so.

An asshole.

That's what Ransom Drysdale was.

Days passed during their visit to the mansion, you found yourself trying to stop yourself from giving Ransom a piece of your mind. You just couldn't handle rude people. They never settled well with you. And as quiet and bashful as you were most of the time, you had quite the mouth on you when someone deserves to be taught a lesson.

But by extension, Ransom was kind of your employer. If you upset him, there was no way in hell he wouldn't tell his grandfather. And you didn't want to disappoint Harlan now that he had done so much for you.

So instead, you kept your mouth shut and just continued to do your job.

But your reactions didn't go unnoticed by the cold-hearted playboy. He knew you disliked him. And in a way, he found it amusing. It wasn't the first time he heard of people not being quite fond of him. Most of the time, he didn't care. But with you, it somehow makes him chuckle.

In all honesty, he found you adorable trying to suppress what you wanted to say to him whenever he talked shit to his family or to Fran or Marta. He saw how you'd scowl and walk away from the scene just so you wouldn't burst and make you put him in his place if that's even possible. As if he'd let anyone dominate him.

It started out small, really. He had woken up early and found you wiping the windows clean. You wiped the sweat that was forming on your forehead as Ransom went downstairs, making his presence known. You turned around and saw him smiling softly at you.

"Good morning, Y/N." He greeted you and to say you weren't quite taken aback would be a lie. But you weren't rude like Ransom and he knows that. So instead of ignoring him, you forced a smile back and slowly brushed passed him to make your way to the laundry room. But not before you greeted him back.

"Good morning, Hugh." You'd say. And just like that, you were out of his grasp.

After that exchange, you'd find Ransom out in the garden with you as you watered the plants, in the kitchen where you'd help prepare food, in the laundry room where you tried to clean everyone's dirty clothes. He was there, trying to start up a conversation with you. But all of which you gave such limited answers to.

You didn't want to indulge him of trying to get to know you. You knew better than to let your guard down with men like Ransom. He was the kind of man that your mother had warned about. And you knew better than to be fooled by him.

Your headstrong personality despite your shyness and innocence showed through whenever you'd politely tell Ransom to leave you be. And that surprised him a lot.

Because no one had been able to tell him to leave them alone. When it came to women, they would lunge themselves and kneel down at Ransom's feet, worshipping him as if he were God in the flesh. They would do all that just to get a taste of the infamous Thrombey Golden Boy. But you, you had asked him to leave you be.

"I'm working, Hugh. And I would gladly appreciate it if you don't distract me. I'd like to finish early I still have homework to finish." You'd say as you busied yourself by cleaning one of the guest rooms that was bigger than your apartment itself.

Ransom stood there silently and you worried for a moment as to why he hadn't said anything. Turning around to look at him, you saw him frozen on his spot but soon enough, he nodded his head briskly and left you in the room without a word.

But if he was being honest, what you said had offended him so much. That was the closest thing to "No" that he had ever received from a woman. And it drove him fucking crazy.

Oh but no, he wasn't going to give up. You were just playing hard to get that's all. Women love a good chase. And you were simply not going through your senses. Ransom was confident that soon enough, you'd realize just how lucky you are that he was even bothering on paying attention and pouring his time on a maid like you.

He could have any girl he wanted. Models, cheerleaders, business women, fucking porn stars and yet he was focusing on you. Sometimes Ransom forgets why he was even wasting his time but then he remembers that he doesn't take no for an answer.

You were beautiful, he admits that. You weren't a model nor were you an actress but you were beautiful nonetheless. Ransom was sure that you could turn heads whenever you walk in public. That was one of the reason why he seemed so hooked up on you.

But another was that you were unlike any woman he has met before. You were innocent but you weren't an idiot. He could see fire in your eyes and he sensed that you were the kind of woman that would easily carry herself. You didn't need a man by your side to help you. In fact, you didn't even need a man to make you happy.

And that kind of a whole new thing to Ransom. You were like the fresh apple in the forbidden tree. So ripe for the taking You were like a breath of fresh air to him. All the other women he had been with, they all seemed to want to depend on him. They all seemed as if they couldn't even stand on their own two feet.

But that wasn't you.

And Ransom realized you weren't playing hard to get. The real problem was that you weren't interested in him at all. It took him days to realize that. Days of silently persuading you to at least pay attention to him. Days of silently hoping you would fall into his trap just like all those girls he trapped back then. But no, it didn't work on you.

No matter how much he pretended to be nice, no matter how much he had tried to make a conversation with you, even trying to mellow down his attitude towards his family and the helpers, he just didn't stand a chance.

And that. Drove. Him. Insane.

Ransom couldn't have this, no. He had to have you. It wasn't something he wanted to do. It was something he needed to do. It was as if having you was something that his life depended on it. He needed to take you. Stake his claim and make you his. He had never wanted to claim someone so much as he did with you. You had that effect on him now.

All because you refused to let him have you.

The more you refused, the more he craved you. The more he got addicted. The more he got obsessed at the thought of finally having you writhing underneath him.

But that was just that, a thought. An imagination for him. A sick dream of his that made him wake up with a raging boner that pushed him to stroke his own throbbing member but not before he moans out your name from his lips.

That was, until it finally turned into reality.

The Thrombeys had thrown a little get together and almost all of them got drunk. Thankfully, you didn't have class tomorrow so you didn't mind staying in so late. You can just call a cab or stay in the maid quarters until you can go home. It was also your day off the next day anyways.

The wealthy family had finally retrieved to their respective rooms leaving you to clean up all the empty glasses and liquor bottles that were strewn all over the table. The Thrombeys really do get roudy when they're drunk.

Fran had to tend to Harlan because of Marta's absence. According to her, she had important matters to attend to and that left you with the duty and washing these glasses and putting them away.

You were finally finished with the task when you turned around and jumped when you saw Ransom leaning in against the doorway with a faint smile on his face.

"Jesus, Hugh, you scared me." You'd say, putting your hand over your chest making him chuckle as you walked out of the kitchen and into the dining room where you began to tidy up the table again.

"I told you, you can call me Ransom." He replied but you just sighed in response, refusing to call him that, not wanting to give him what he wants no matter how small.

"You should be in bed." You said already knowing he'd notice the change in the subject.

"So should you but here you are cleaning." Ransom walked over to you and placed a glass of champagne in front of you while another was in his hand.

"What's this?"

"Champagne." He answered as if you didn't know what was in front of you.

"I know but why are you giving it to me?"

Ransom let out a breath and traced the rim of the glass with his calloused fingers.

"You'd been working nonstop today, I thought you should treat yourself somehow."

You sighed, "Hugh, I can't take this. I can't drink while I'm working. Plus, it'd be inappropriate of me to drink with my employer's grandson."

"Oh, come on, Y/N. It's just one glass, it won't hurt. My grandfather even offered you some earlier. I'm sure he wouldn't mind if you drank one right now." He picked up the glass and pushed yours into your hands so you had no choice but to grab it or else, the glass would break and the drink would spill.

"Come on, just one drink. I promise it won't be that bad. And then I'll leave you alone to rest." Ransom smiled down at you and your gaze averted back and forth to him and the glass of champage in your hands.

Maybe one drink wouldn't hurt, right?

"Ugh, fine. Just one though, that's it." You replied, finally giving in and Ransom had to bite the inside of his cheek hard to keep himself from smiling too wide from what he heard.

He raised his glass to you with a smirk on his face, "To working hard and paying student loans."

You rolled your eyes at him but grinned at his words before you clinked your glass with his.

"To working hard and paying student loans." You said before you took a big chug of your drink, finishing it in one go and you had completely missed the way Ransom had looked down at you with a devilish look in his eyes as he drank his champagne the same time as you did.

You placed down your glass on the table and quietly thanked him for the drink. You walked passed him but Ransom stayed at his spot and finished his champagne and as if he timed it perfectly, he heard a thud on a floor that caused him to smirk in a sinister way.

The drug worked fast just like he knew it would. Usually it would take time but he didn't have the patience for that so he doubled the dosage. Ransom grabbed both your empty glasses and washed it neatly before he put it in the dishwasher.

He didn't want to leave any trace of evidence after all. But it wasn't like you were gonna tell anybody anyway.

Ransom came back to the dining room and gently picked you up in his big arms bridal style, making you look like a damsel in distress who just got rescued by a knight in shining armor. Except, it wasn't like that at all.

He quietly made his way upstairs, looking down at your face every once in a while. Grinning at how adorable you looked while you were unconscious in his arms.

Soon enough, Ransom had successfully walked into his room and placed you down on the bed gently. He walked by the door once again and made sure it was locked before he made his way to your sleeping figure once again and took his time to just admire your features.

He stroked your cheek gently as he took his time to appreciate your gorgeous body that was still clad in your clothing. And Ransom wanted nothing more than to rip everything off of you but he knew he had to wait until you woke up.

So instead, he pulled away and took his time by taking a bath.

Meanwhile, your eyelids were starting to flutter open, your body felt heavy and you couldn't even bring to at least move your fingers. God, what happened?

When your vision finally adjusted, you realized that you weren't in your apartment nor were you in the maid quarters. Where were you? Did you pass out? How'd you pass out?

But then you remembered. You were cleaning the dining room when Ransom came in and offered you champagne. And then you finally agreed to take a sip. After that, you passed out. Realization hit you like a truck and you willed yourself to at least sit up. It took some time and your body felt like jello as you did. As if every limb was asleep.

It was then that you realized that you were in Ransom's room. Why'd he take you here? Did he help you when you passed out? Why did you even pass out in the first place? Was it because you were exhausted? Or was it-

"Oh, you're awake." Ransom's voice caught your attention and you turned to see him walking out of the bathroom, his chest damp from taking a bath as droplets of water trickled down to his torso. He was only wearing a towel around his hips to at least hide his modesty.

You weren't blind to the fact that Ransom was indeed a handsome man. But looks didn't matter to you if the person was a complete dick. So you groaned and looked away, rubbing your temple as your head pounded quite a bit.

Ransom didn't like your reaction at all. Usually, women would gasp or at least their jaw would drop upon seeing him half naked in front of them. But you, you looked away. You didn't even blush. Nor did you at least stare at him.

Did you not find him attractive at all? No, that's not it. Maybe you were just distracted by the drug he induced inside your drink. You were just waking up from it after all.

"What happened, Hugh? How'd I pass out? I don't remember having a drink too many." You'd ask and carefully placed your legs down onto the floor as you now sat on the edge of the bed, not quite noticing how your skirt had risen up to the middle of your thighs.

"You didn't, yeah. Thankfully my dosage was right to just knock you out and not send you into a coma." He answered nonchalantly and your head shot up as you looked at him confused.

"Dosage? W-What are you talking about?"

Ransom rolled his eyes and slowly made his way over to you and you found yourself scooting further away from him while gripping onto the blanket right next to you.

You never noticed just how big he was compared to you. Not until now when he looked as if he was stalking his prey and he was the predator.

"You're really pretty, Y/N, you know that, right?" Ransom stood in front of you, his crotch leveling with your face but you were somehow thankful that he put his finger underneath your chin and tilted your head up to look at him.

"What are you doing, Hugh?" You asked him, your voice shaking quite a bit now as fear began to course through your veins. You knew Ransom had his moments and he had them a lot. But never did you realize he would get so... so aggressive. You were scared to say the least. Because then you never realized just how dangerous Ransom Drysdale could be until now.

"What am I doing? Oh, baby, I think I should be asking you that. You know, all this wouldn't have happened if you just spared a glance at me, you know? You walk around here looking all innocent with your head held high as if you didn't want my head in between those precious thighs of yours."

Your eyes widened, "W-What? What're you- Hugh, that's ridi-"

"Call me Ransom." He said, cutting you off as he gripped your jaw with his large hands, "God, do you even realize how much I fucking hate it when you call me Hugh?"

"But didn't you prefer the help calling you that?" You backfired but your voice seemed so weak. You wanted so bad to break away from him but you were afraid of what might happen if you did.

Was he armed? Would he hurt you? Would he... no, Ransom wouldn't do that, would he?

Would he?

"I do. But I can't let my best girl call me Hugh it... it really gets on my nerves, Y/N. Sometimes I think you're doing it on purpose. Just like how you haven't given into me all this time that I've been here. Tell me, were you playing hard to get? Is that what this is, you love the game of cat and mouse? You love the chase, hm?"

You were so confused. Why was he so round up? Why did he seem so angry? And what the hell did he mean by playing hard to get? Your thoughts were cut short when Ransom held your face harshly in his hands, looking down at you with dark eyes instead of his usual azure colored orbs.

This was a completely different Ransom. Hell, was this the real Ransom all along? Predatory and dangerous?

"I'm fucking asking you a question here, baby, I expect a fucking answer from you." His voice was deep, husky and it only sent shivers down your spine because of how scared you were right now.

"I don't understand what's going on, Hugh." You whimpered as your hands slightly began to shake on your lap, "I don't know why I'm here or what you mean by playing hard to get, I'm not playing hard to get, I'm not playing any games with you I was just doing my job."

Tears began to cascade down your cheeks and Ransom's face softened a bit. But he was shocked when he felt as if he was guilty for making you cry. He had made many women cry but he never felt any ounce of guilt before. Why'd he feel it when it comes to you?

Ransom shushed and cooed at you as he gently wiped your tears away with his thumb.

"Don't cry, doll. Well, as much as you look pretty when you cry, I'd prefer it if you didn't." He smiled before he crouched down in front of you.

"I just don't understand, Y/N. I did everything I could. I tried to act nice, I tried to help you around with your chores even if you'd tell me countless of times that you didn't need my help, I even convinced my grandfather to give you a raise because of how hardworking you are. Why did you think you were getting paid more than the other helpers around here, huh? I did all that and all you do to repay me was to pull away? That's quite rude, baby." He tutted and began to trace random patterns onto your thighs which made jump and push his hand away.

"See now, that's what I was fucking talking about. You always push me away. No matter what I do, no matter what tricks I have up my sleeve, you break away and dare I say I'm starting to lose my patience here."

He sighed and put his hand back on your thigh and you let out a sob as you couldn't push him away now. Your body still felt like jello you could hardly move your limbs properly. And you knew that if you break away, Hugh would catch you, it would be useless.

"I did all that I could to lure you in, to let you fall into my charms and let me have you but no, I guess all of that didn't work. Do you realize just how many women would kill to be in your place, hm? How they'd pay you millions of money just so they could replace you? And yet here you are, being so ungrateful. But I commend you, Y/N. You're the first woman to ever reject my advances. And as much as I fucking hated it, I'm impressed."

You brows furrowed as you finally put two in two together. That was all it was? All of this because you had wounded his large fucking ego? The fear on your face was replaced with anger and the fact that Ransom was looking at you amusingly didn't help at all.

"That was all this, Hugh? All of this, all the drugging that you did to me, all those pretentious acts that you pulled was all just because you could get me to sleep with you? All because you can't take no for answer? How fucking desperate and idiotic can you be?" You spat but it all happened so fast when Ransom suddenly slapped you across the face causing your head to whip up to the side.

His eyes widened as you turned back to look at him, your cheek now sporting a red mark. You were shocked. But you quickly gathered your composure and uttered words that caused Ransom to see nothing but red.

"I'd return the slap if I even took you as a man, Ransom." Ransom. You finally uttered Ransom from your lips. He should be happy you finally called him that. But his name accompanied by those words made something in him snap.

Ransom pushed you down on the bed and placed himself in between your thighs as his hand wrapped around your throat but not enough to choke you just tight enough to instill fear back in your body. Your skirt hiked up and Ransom smirked at the sight of your white cotton panties fully in display for him now.

Even your undergarments were as innocent as you.

"I've had enough, Y/N. You really pushed my limits now. Didn't your mother taught you how to respect your superiors, hm?" His hands rubbed your thigh up and down and before you could even reply, he quickly yanked down your skirt causing you to shriek but Ransom quickly silenced you as he put his large hand over your mouth.

"You should know better than to fight, doll. Make this easier for the both of us, will you? You have no idea how much I fucking hate it when someone tells me no. Especially when it's coming from you." Ransom brushed his fingers against your core causing you to jump a bit and squirm in his arms but held you firmly in place causing you to still down on the bed.

You eyes widened as you felt Ransom pushing your panties to the side before you felt his finger sliding up and down against your folds. Although you had masturbated quite a number of times, you were a virgin. You were untouched and made a promise to yourself to give your virginity to a man that loves you just as much as you loved him. Who deserves to have every part of you.

But instead, it was going to be forcefully taken away from you by Ransom. The grandson of your employer. The Thrombey Golden Boy. The devil in the flesh.

Your eyes were wide and filled with fear and Ransom liked that. He liked how powerless you were compared to him. He liked having the control he has on you now.

Slowly, he took his hand off your mouth but not before he gave you a warning.

"If you ever scream for help or even wake anybody up inside this goddamn mansion, I'll be sure to ruin your life and we don't want that, do we?" You instinctively shake your head no and Ransom seemed satisfied by your response.

"And if you ever tell anyone about this, I'll find out. And when I do, you'll be unemployed in the blink of an eye. Your degree gone in a snap. In case you didn't know, we Drysdales are stakeholders at your school. I can easily demand to get you expelled. And if you make me unhappy, I'll even fabricate a story about you. That's not something you want to happen, right?"

You couldn't believe it. You couldn't believe what you were hearing. And it doesn't seem so real. How could Ransom be so cruel? Did the vanity that was coursing through his veins finally fucked his head up? Or was he always like this? Always craved for power and control?

Your questions remained unanswered while you managed to give Ransom another meekly nod causing him to smirk.

"Good girl. See, you're learning. And good girls deserve a reward." You felt his fingers rubbing circles on your clit. You gasped and shook your head as if you silently told your body not to give into the pleasure he was forcing on you.

Your slit began to get slippery and Ransom cooed at how embarrassed you seem when you started to get his fingers all soaking wet.

"No need to be embarrassed, baby, it's just me. I'll take care of you." Tears streamed down your face causing your cheeks to get all blotchy but even then, Ransom still wouldn't budge. In fact, he found you beautiful when you cried. It made you look more innocent and pure. As if you needed to be dependent on him.

"You're getting so wet, sweetheart. You don't mind if I slip a finger in, do you?" Ransom didn't even give you anytime to answer before he slipped a finger inside your tight hole. You hated how a soft moan had escaped your mouth when he pushed it in.

"Oh, that's it, Y/N. Those are the noises I want to hear from you." Ransom pumped his finger in and out of your pussy and your cheeks heat up when you heard the sound of your own slick pussy. No, no, it shouldn't feel this good.

Your mind and body were at war. Your brain was screaming at you to push him away and scream for help but your body writhing against his hand as if you were begging him for more even if that wasn't the case.

Ransom looked at his glistening hand that was soaked with your juices and it only made his cock throb against the towel that was wrapped around his waist. Pulling his fingers away, you thought it was over until he ripped your panties off of you along with your blouse leaving you in nothing but your white laced bra.

You watched as Ransom licked his lips hungrily at you and it seemed as if the bra that was covering your breasts bothered him. So much so that he roughly pulled the straps down and reached behind you to unhook them with ease letting your tits be exposed to him.

You lifted your arms up to cover your chest while you pressed your thighs together but Ransom growled disapprovingly. He forced your legs open again and pinned your arms above your head with his hand as he stared down at you with his lust clouded eyes.

"Are you going to fucking behave or do you want to do this the hard way?" He spat and you felt so small as a quiet sob emitted from your lips while you stayed still.

"Good girl." Ransom whispered as he pressed a kiss onto your lips before pulling away.

"I think it's time I have a taste of you, baby. I hope you're as sweet as you look." Ransom spread your legs open and positioned his face in between your thighs. The towel that was wrapped around his waist had finally let loose and fell onto the wooden floor, letting his cock spring free.

Ransom gently blew on your pussy causing you to flinch. You lifted your head and shook your head at him.

"P-Please, Ransom... let me go, I won't tell anyone I just- Ransom!" You gasped when you felt his tongue laying flat on your cunt before he glided it across your clit. You propped yourself on your elbows and shook your head vigorously at him but Ransom held your legs in place, keeping them apart with his strong hands.

"Yeah, fucking watch me eat your pussy, baby." Ransom would say before he started to lap up your juices and even going as far as to tease your hole with his tongue by pushing it in and out of you before he paid attention to your throbbing clit.

You should've looked away. Looked somewhere else rather than the man that was in between your legs, tongue shoved up your pussy. But you can't. He looked so erotic while he sucked on your sensitive little bud. Is this how it feels to get eaten out by a man?

"Don't fight it, baby, just give in." Ransom would tell you as his fingers slid up and down your wet folds, getting them all lubed up before he pushed it up inside your pussy.

A whorish moan escaped your lips and you quickly put your hand up against your mouth to at least muffle the noises you weren't supposed to be making.

You hated this so much. You hated it because you were giving in. You hated it because it felt so damn good. You hated it because you found yourself wanting more.

You didn't plan on it but it was as if your body has gone on autopilot when you hips began to grind up against Ransom's mouth and fingers. Your hands finding its way to tangle themselves onto Ransom's hair.

Sinful moans escaped your mouth and Ransom moaned against your pussy as it was music to his ears. You tasted so sweet on his tongue and it only drove him crazier than he already was for you.

His personal little peach.

Ransom picked up the pace and curled his fingers up to hit your g-spot repeatedly while he was to busy sucking and licking on your clit. It was too much, it felt too good. Your eyes rolled at the back of your head as you felt the familiar pleasure boiling up in the pit of your stomach.

You were close.

"Fuck, baby, I can feel you getting close." Ransom moaned against your soaking wet pussy. You were sure his chin was glistening with your juices.

"No, no, no..." You chanted and shook your head as if you remembered that you weren't supposed to like this at all.

"Yes, yes, come on, baby. I know you wanna cum for me. Do it. Fucking do it." Ransom encouraged you and fingerfucked you harder as he pulled away, his thumb now rubbing circles on your clit in a fast pace.

He wanted to see you come undone for him.

"Do it, Peaches, do it. Be a good girl and cum for me." He ordered you and you were far too gone to tell yourself no.

"R-Ransom!" You turned your head to the side and bit down on the pillow that was right next to you to muffle your screams. You body convulsed underneath Ransom's as you came hard on his fingers. Your legs shook as avalanche of tears streamed down your face due to shame and the pleasure you felt.

Ransom was speechless. It was as if you were being possessed by a demon. You were shaking underneath him, moaning his name as if it was a prayer you had memorized. No one had came this hard for him. No one had been so wet for him before. It was you. It was all you.

He pulled his fingers away and as much as he wanted to lick it clean, he wanted to see how you'd look while you were sucking on something.

You fluttered your eyes open and looked up at Ransom when you felt his weight on your body. He held his soaking fingers against your lips with one demand for you.

"Suck." And even you didn't want to, you found yourself doing what you were told. You wrapped your lips around his fingers and sucked your juices clean off his fingers.

You knew you should've looked away. You knew you should've pulled away but instead, you looked deep into his eyes and swirled your tongue around his fingers, giving him a sneak peek on what you'd look like if you were to suck his cock.

Ransom was taken by surprise. You're naturally a tease. But as much as he wanted to let you suck on his cock, he knew he didn't have the patience for that yet. Instead, he positioned himself on the bed and threw your leg over his shoulder. Your eyes widened as you shook your head began to move away from him but Ransom only pulled back to where you were by your ankles.

"Don't misbehave now, Y/N, you were doing so good." His voice was dark, indicating how he disliked that you pulled away.

"Ransom, you don't understand, I'm inexperienced. Very different from the girls you've fucked, I... Please, let me go, you already made me cum." You pleaded but you could tell on Ransom's face that he wasn't having it.

"Please, Ransom... I'm a virgin, I-"

"You're a what?" Ransom asked, completely cutting you off.

"I'm a virgin." You repeated yourself, confident that Ransom would change his mind about all this once he finds out that you had no experience with sex.

But your confidence went as quickly as it came.

Ransom's face lit up as he leaned down to capture your lips in his, kissing you passionately. You wanted to pull away but he held your face in place as if he sensed you'd be doing exactly that.

Pulling away, Ransom smirked at you.

"How much more innocent can you be?" And with that, he threw your leg over his shoulder and began to line his cock up against your entrance after he slid it up and down to use your juices as lube.

"Ransom, no, it's not gonna fit- Ahh!" You shrieked and closed your eyes shut as the stinging pain shot throughout your body. You whimpered as Ransom cooed at you while he gently pushed his thick length inside your virgin hole.

He was stretching you out so much it felt endless. You let out a helpless sob when he finally bottomed out, his cock now fully deep inside of you. Ransom cupped your face and peppered kisses on your cheek and lips as if that would help diminish the pain you're in.

"You're so tight, Peaches, you fucking know that?" He groaned and stayed still as if any movement would cause him to spill his cum inside you.

"Ransom, please, I don't want this..." You pleaded yet again but Ransom's eyes darkened as he smirked down at you.

"You will." And with that, he began to thrust back and forth into you, his cock pumping in and out of your tight cunt. You gasped and expected there would be pain but there was none. Pleasure started to overtake your body once again and you realized you had finally adjusted to Ransom's length.

You shook your head, praying to whatever deity there was that existed to make this all stop. It shouldn't feel good, it shouldn't. But your body told you otherwise.

Ransom groaned and looked down to watch his cock go in and out of your cunt. The sight was mouthwatering. He remembered how he just dreamt about this but now it was real. And it was better than he imagined.

"Fuck, Y/N, you're gripping me like a vice. Ruining other bitches for me." He moaned and threw his head back, his mouth parted open as his brows furrowed.

Your breathing became uneven and you found yourself meeting Ransom's thrusts causing him to push deeper inside of you, making him hit your g-spot repeatedly. Sinful moans escaped your lips and you could no longer control what your body desperately needed.

By the look of how desperate you were to chase your own orgasm, Ransom was certain he has you now. He was certain that he had you wrapped around his finger. He was certain that you're all his.

"R-Ransom..."

"I know, baby, I know. Just a little longer, Peaches." He fastened his pace and licked his thumb before he rubbed your throbbing clit while he pounded your cunt. The action made you arch your back and your moans to get louder and you quickly put your hand over your mouth, not wanting to wake anyone up.

Either you didn't want to get caught and make Ransom stop or you just didn't want to face the consequences that he gave you if you got too noisy and alarmed everyone in the house.

"R-Ransom, I'm close, I'm-"

"Me too, baby, fuck! Oh God, I'm gonna fill your pussy up." He groaned and with one final thrust, he shoved his cock so deep up your pussy that you couldn't help but spasm around him once again, biting his shoulder as you screamed out in pleasure as you came hard.

"Holy shit, Y/N..." Ransom moaned as he felt you milking his cock up completely. You felt him shoot load after load of his cum while you shook underneath him.

When Ransom slowly pulled away, you couldn't help but cry silently as a sob escaped your lips. He used you. He used you for his own pleasure and you let him. You let him. And there was nothing you could do.

Ransom looked at you with pity. He knew you were still confused. Soon enough, you were going to thank him for the things he's done to and for you. He gently placed your body on the other side of the bed before he lied down and placed the duvet over your bodies.

"You did so good, Y/N. I'm proud of you. See? I told you it'd be easy if you just gave in." He smiled fondly at you and gently wiped the tear that slipped down from your eyes.

"You had me. You used me like a piece of fucking meat. Now will you let me go?" Your question made Ransom laugh out loud. It was rare for women to make him and somehow, you did it. You were truly full of surprises.

"Let you go? Oh no, Peaches, I think you're mistaken." His smile turned into a menacing one as fear began to spark up inside your body once again as he traced your bare shoulders with your fingers.

"I've waited for this moment for a long time. This is the longest chase I've done. And now that I have you, I don't think I'll ever let you go. Plus, you're quite the fighter. You were quite the challenge and I like that. From here on out, you're mine, do you understand?" Ransom gently pulled the blanket off your body as the cool breeze of air hit your skin. His fingers traced your erect nipples before his hand squeezed your breasts a bit.

"You." He pulled the blanket off of him.

"Are." Ransom spread your legs again and placed himself in between them.

"Mine." He whispered against your neck before he pushed his hardening cock back inside you again.

A monster.

That's what Ransom Drysdale was.

#ransom thrombey #ransom drysdale #ransom x reader #ransom x you #ransom drysdale fic #knives out #chris evans #chris evans x you #chris evans x reader

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morsking · 4 years

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i was told to come here for fate zero kotomine kirei questions? i was thinking about kirei in f/z and realized i don't think i actually completely understood his arc and specifically how it relates to his spirituality/belief in God? can you explain to me what happened to this strange knife-throwing man

i’d be VERY happy to, i love talking about kirei even if i don’t do it very often.

this is something that becomes a little more clear later on in heaven’s feel but the gist of it is that kirei has an inexplicably sadistic nature he does not understand where it comes from or why he has it. for the majority of fate/zero’s first part, he doesn’t even know it exists until gilgamesh slowly draws it out of him by making him deconstruct his own thought process and personal beliefs.

kirei was raised catholic and had a priest for a father, so kirei had catholic teachings of altruism and asceticism hammered into his young brain on top of risei’s, his father’s, expectations and desires for kirei to be “pure and beautiful”, just like kirei’s name suggests.

kirei, however, secretly felt repressed by those teachings and expectations since forsaking personal happiness and helping others never brought him any joy, and because he never felt any joy in helping others, he reasoned that joy and pleasure were sinful indulgences that a believer, much less a priest, should never partake in. he therefore internalized displeasure and complete emotional detachment as a natural and righteous state of life. this, coupled with the catholic belief that selflessness in life would mean salvation in death, resulted in kirei becoming far too guilty to ever chase after pleasure because doing so would mean betraying not just the faith in his Lord, but also all the hard work and love his father had put into raising him as a pure and beautiful person. kirei respected his father’s ideal and tried his best to live up to it, but fundamentally could not understand it, and he could not love the man it belonged to. in response to these emotions, kirei resorted to grievous and deadly methods of self-harm to keep himself walking the righteous path.

nevertheless, kirei could not contain his curiosity (and unbeknownst to him, his yearning) for pleasure and travelled the world attempting to find meaning and enjoyment in different activities. he graduated top of his class, skipped grades as an exceptional student, worked diligently as an executor, and even ate some of the most exquisite delicacies known to man... and found them all tasteless and unfulfilling. kirei was a truly hopeless individual with no direction or sense of self and personhood. he had failed to find meaning in basic, and even some luxurious, delights every human being desires to experience.

in a desperate, final gambit to connect with the inner humanity he lacked his entire life, kirei attempted to fall in love with a woman called claudia ortensia. claudia was terminally ill, and was not expected to live for much longer. while she did love him, he could not bring himself to reciprocate despite his best efforts. they were together for two years and had a child, caren, out of wedlock. throughout his time with claudia kirei could only find salvation in claudia’s suffering. but claudia, an incorregible saint, was willing to suffer if it meant bringing him joy and salvation. claudia slowly died, and soon enough her time was at hand. kirei believed that as her husband it was his duty to at least say his farewells on her deathbed. as claudia lay dying, kirei relayed the simple fact to claudia that after all their time together, he did not love her. to prove him wrong and save him, she disconnected her life support machine. kirei cried at the sight of wife selflessly dying to save him, and claudia, with her fading strength, told him that those tears were proof that he did love her, and that love is proof of his humanity.

unbeknownst to either of them, the true reason kirei cried was because he didn’t get to kill her himself.

kirei handed over his child to the church. if marriage did not save him, parenthood wouldn’t either. kirei contemplated suicide, but instead opted to return to his teachings and live as an executor, craving even the most artificial of purpose to justify his existence.

we then reach fate/zero. kirei is at his lowest emotional point, and sensing the pit in his soul yearning for purpose, the grail bestows him with command spells. kotomine risei contacts his ally tohsaka tokiomi, and takes kirei under his wing as an apprentice in magecraft.

kirei is a natural prodigy at magecraft, and is able to almost master every single discipline before abandoning it in frustration at his failure to find fulfillment and joy in it. (interestingly enough, he has a particularly high affinity for spiritual healing and surgery.) while kirei intends to follow tokiomi and risei’s orders to crown tokiomi as the victor of the grail war, he secretly begrudges being a bored pawn with no freedom and bears no actual loyalty to either of them.

in the world’s most bizarre boy-meets-girl scenario in the history of anime, kotomine kirei learns of emiya kiritsugu. kiritsugu is a mercenary employed by the einzberns to participate in the holy grail war. he has fought in countless battlefields, only joining the fight when combat is at its fiercest. he has killed scores upon scores of mages who deviate from the clocktower’s rules, and has been reported to have taken extreme measures in his assassinations such as bringing down an entire commercial airline just because his target was in it. kirei is mystified by kiritsugu’s lack of moral restraint, personhood, and regard for his own life. kirei immediately projects his own lack of self into kiritsugu and is desperate to understand him. he vows to meet kiritsugu in battle to finally grasp the answer to the question that is his existence.

as he attempts to meet kiritsugu throughout the story, kirei is approached by gilgamesh, the world’s most ancient hedonist. gilgamesh senses that kirei is repressing a fundamental part of himself, and that’s the true source of kirei’s unhappiness. gilgamesh attempts to make kirei realize that kirei has never lacked anything, he’s just tried to avert his gaze from the truth of his own nature. gilgamesh tells kirei that pleasure and joy aren’t things that are inherently sinful. human beings instinctively seek pleasure as and end in and of itself, and kirei is no different. because pleasure is a natural human drive, it can never be something unforgivable. to drive his point further, gilgamesh asks kirei that if he can’t see himself winning, then he should try to imagine a scenario where the war’s weakest combatant, matou kariya, does.

kirei does try, but before he can tell kirei what he envisions, gilgamesh stops him. gilgamesh reveals that there was no point to engaging in speculation when kirei asks if there was one, but the fact kirei did anyway shows he found a meaningless notion entertaining, and therefore, fulfilling. this comes to a head when kirei decides to heal kariya’s burn wounds after his confrontation with tokiomi. kirei experiences a rush he’s never felt before. he hasn’t just helped kariya stay in the race for the grail out of his own volition, he has done it against his master’s orders and best interests.

when risei is killed by kayneth, kirei finds his grief to be oddly forced and empty. surely, he must be devastated at the death of his father, the man who loved him, raised him, taught him, and made him who he is today. but strangely, his grief seems to be directed at something else. that’s when gilgamesh appears to him and tells him the reason why he’s sad isn’t that his father died, but that kirei didn’t get to kill him himself. this shocks kirei to his core, but he’s also forced to entertain that notion. once he realizes that gilgamesh IS right about what kirei really wanted out of his father, he’s ordered by tokiomi to leave japan and exit the war as demanded by irisviel if an alliance between the tohsakas and the einzberns against the matous is to take place. kirei secretly meets with gilgamesh, who is bored and frustrated with tokiomi, and they agree to partner up and kill tokiomi. kirei realizes that there was a satisfaction in killing tokiomi and having the last thing he ever saw be kirei betraying him and asserting his personal desire over his obligation to his teacher.

kirei, now fully committed to discovering what he yearns for the most, tells kariya he will allow him to duel tokiomi once more in exchange for bringing him the container of the holy grail and the person closest to kiritsugu: irisviel. unbeknownst to kariya, tokiomi’s wife aoi has been summoned to the church by kirei. kariya finds tokiomi already dead, and aoi walks into kariya holding tokiomi’s corpse. aoi believes kariya has killed tokiomi, and angrily accuses kariya of never having loved anyone. kariya reaches the breaking point of his rage and suffering after being rejected by aoi, the person he was enduring torture and humiliation for, and asphyxiates her in madness. realizing what he’s done, kariya runs away from the church wailing in grief and guilt. kirei and gilgamesh had watched the whole affair, and kirei realizes that what he finds meaning and pleasure in is inflicting suffering upon others and watch them collapse under the crosses struggles they carry. while he does not understand why he is this way, he nevertheless wants to find out to feel complete and intends to use the grail for that purpose.

kirei meets with irisviel, and demands answers for his questions about emiya kiritsugu. irisviel reveals kiritsugu is not the heartless killing machine kirei believed him to be, but fundamentally an altruist who wishes to shower the world in peace and blessings and seeks the grail for that purpose. she condescends kirei by telling him kiritsugu is not like him, he is far better and that’s why kiritsugu will not lose. finally understanding the man whose nature has eluded him and finding where kirei’s karma stands in relation to him, kirei kills irisviel and vows to destroy kiritsugu’s dream with his own hands.

when kiritsugu and kirei fight and the grail interferes by crowning kiritsugu the winner rather than reach a stalemate, kirei watches kiritsugu speaking with angra mainyu. he observes kiritsugu realizing that what he wanted all along was to live peacefully with his family even if it meant forsaking the world to a violent extinction. he is baffled at kiritsugu rejecting the cursed genocidal grail, and demands kiritsugu to hand it over if he doesn’t want it, because kirei has the need to find the defining principle of his own existence. after kiritsugu kills kirei and has saber destroy the grail, the curses that spill out of it engulf kirei’s corpse and resuscitate him. angra mainyu has declared kirei as the winner for the sake of using him as an anchor and a midwife for his eventual birth.

upon seeing angra mainyu’s catastrophe, kirei concludes that the calamity he is standing over is what his heart has yearned for all this time. he laughs in shock, irony, and glee that despite kotomine risei’s righteous nature and teachings, kirei is simply a monstrous and heretical cur who thrives in the agony of mankind. when gilgamesh asks if the sight of angra mainyu’s birth has satisfied him, kirei replies that it doesn’t, because kirei has been shown the end result of his desire rather than the actual philosophical principle and logical process that guides to the outcome. so for the next 10 years, kirei wrestles with the fact that he still cannot abandon his teachings and his obligation to be somewhat helpful as a priest for the desire to reject and challenge god and allow angra mainyu to fully manifest in this world and engulf it completely to finally give his existence meaning and validity because he knows his impulses to be wrong and yet needs to know why he has them and whether he is still worthy of living while having them. he is willing to manipulate and kill and betray and curse and deprive and destroy the world just for that chance at redeeming his existence because not understanding himself and having denied himself joy for so long has utterly broken him as a person and this is all he has left after a lifetime of denying himself happiness, empathy, and understanding to work through his feelings. to bless angra mainyu’s birth as a man of the cloth would reconcile his religious principles and belief in a merciful all-loving god with his yearning to accept and comprehend himself, because if angra mainyu can be allowed to live and prosper in this world while being the unforgivable culmination of all sin, then maybe he can too. (this is also a powerful and intimate parallel to both shirou and sakura that deserves its own post that i may or may not write later.)

that’s pretty much his development throughout zero and his defining character struggle in fate/stay night. this is something that spring song will delve into further and it’s actually quite interesting how such a bastard of a man suddenly becomes so sympathetic towards the end of the entire game.

grace if you ever have time for it i heavily encourage you to read through the heaven’s feel route whether through letsplayarchive or by playing realta nua yourself whilst we wait for a spring song release in the west because your perception of everyone will change drastically as you understand them at a much deeper level the movies could not show because of runtime constraints. i hope this explanation wasn’t too long or convoluted or raised more questions than delivered answers. three good friends of mine, thessaliah, kurozu501, and avicebro here on tumblr can probably elaborate further and offer more insight if you’re interested.

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