#[it seems to be up in the air currently whether this can work in ways other than sex reversal.]

[pkmnherpetology]

today i want to talk a little bit about herp pokémon, sex chromosomes, and sex determination.

most of you have probably already been taught about the xy chromosome system; in this system, there are many possible combinations of sex chromosome, and these combinations develop into many different phenotypes. in pokémon, we generally associate an xy set of chromosomes with a "male" phenotype, and an xx set with a "female" phenotype. obviously this is a great simplification, and not really as applicable to humans, but that's the gist of it, right? most pokémon use this system, including many herp pokémon. in these pokémon, if parthenogenesis occurs, all offspring will be female- for example, a salazzle that reproduces parthenogenetically will produce all female offspring.

now, some of you who are a little more bio-savvy might know about the other system pokémon have, which is the zw system. in this system, zz sets often develop a "male" phenotype, while "female" phenotypes generally stem from a zw set. this system is found in bird pokémon, some bug pokémon, and most notably for our purposes, some reptile pokémon (for example, kecleon and the treecko line). in these lines, if parthenogenesis occurs, the offspring will almost certainly be male.

however, some pokémon don't have sex chromosomes at all. crocodilian lines and the tirtouga line rely purely on something called "temperature-dependent sex determination". in this system, genetics don't determine sex whatsoever. rather, the temperature at which eggs are incubated determines the phenotype the hatchlings emerge with.

here's where things get interesting. there may be pokémon that have both sex chromosomes and temperature-dependent sex determination. in the helioptile line, some evidence suggests that heliolisk produce embryos that have sex chromosomes, but develop phenotypically based on temperature. what this means is that there may be heliolisk out there that are genetically zw but present with a "male" phenotype, or vice versa. even more interestingly, these individuals would still be able to breed with zw females, and produce viable offspring. now this is still up in the air- in fact, i know someone studying this exact topic right now, but should it prove to be true, it would definitely change our understanding of sex determination in reptile pokémon as well as our understanding of sex determination in an evolutionary context.

[messrmoonyy]

- The Forbidden Fruit

Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader

Request- I NEED ARTHUR TO STEAL DUTCHS GIRL AND SHOW HER A REAL MANS LOVING. FILTHY PASSIONATE LOVING. WORK YOUR MAGIC

A/N- I got incredibly carried away with this. Is basically prawn with no plot honestly. And far softer smut than I think you intended it to be but. Here we are. Enjoy.

Update: I currently have ZERO intentions to ever write a second part to this. I have been asked so many times since uploading this originally that I’ve lost count. But I have absolutely no ideas or inspirations for a second part at any point in the near. Or far. Future. It was always meant to be a stand alone like all my one shots are <3

Warnings- 18+ | implied toxic relationship ( reader is in love with Dutch van der Linde what can you expect here ), smut: affair, Arthur being desperate to please!!!, fingering, oral ( reader receiving ) , unprotected p in v and he accidentally finishes inside oops, like the tiniest amount of cockwarming ( WC-8.9k )

AO3 | Masterlist - requests are open :)

Arthur didn’t involve himself in Dutch’s relationships. He stayed polite to whatever young woman he had hanging off his arm at the time, but that was about it. He’d seen too many girls come and go- usually in floods of tears at being dismissed by the man that had seduced and charmed them into loving him. Just working his way through shiny new plaything to plaything, hiding his unending sorrow for Annabelle under the skirt of some new girl. 

Unfortunately you were no different. 

In your defence, he supposed, you had lasted far longer than the rest. The only real exception to that being the famed Annabelle herself. But as was almost inevitable, your time in the honeymoon phase was slowly crumbling down around you. 

Arthur did wonder if it was simply because of the current stress levels in camp. They had all been on the run for longer than he cared to try and count, but after the mess in Blackwater they had reached new heights of being hunted. It had never been this bad. Nothing had ever gone this wrong. Because before everything had gone to complete shit, he’d actually seemed quite taken with you. In truth Arthur actually had begun to consider the idea that Dutch really did love you. Had finally been able to move on from the weight on his heart of his dead lover. 

But no. 

Arthur was observing the same pattern as always, it had just taken far longer with you. And that just seemed to make it all the more cruel. 

He barely even looked at you most days now. Barely uttered a few words in return to any question you asked. 

And the arguing was growing ever more fierce. It was practically everyday. 

Arthur didn’t like it. Didn’t like the way Dutch treated you. Didn’t like the way Dutch was treating anyone lately. But you in particular had never been anything but nice to him, kind. Sweet. Incredibly naive but sweet. To Arthur too. Some of the girls Dutch had strung along had been vile, rude and entitled and stuck up. But you? You were a genuinely nice person it seemed. And maybe that was your greatest flaw, for someone like that did not belong with Dutch Van Der Linde. 

In fact Arthur had come to like you from a distance. The times he had spoken to you you had been interesting, intelligent. Far cleverer than him and he had always liked that in a woman if he was honest. 

But still you clung to Dutch. Though your patience with him of late seemed to finally be wearing thin. 

Dutch had never really been one to be ashamed or afraid of airing his dirty laundry within the gang. Whether that be packing on the PDA in camp in a way that often made Arthur want to vomit up his breakfast, or the even more puke inducing sounds of the two of you making up all night long. So arguing was no exception to that either. 

And today was no different. 

“ you barely even look at me! I’m right here! I always have been, I’ve always been such a good girl haven’t I? I do as you say. And look at how you repay me! “ Arthur sighed as he dropped a stack of bills into the box, successfully recovering yet another of Strauss’ debts for him. You were both screaming at each other again, the tent flaps pulled down as if that would over any form of soundproofing. It was the camp's regular ambience now it seemed. 

He did feel sorry for you, he really did. You’d left everything you had for Dutch. Some beautiful, intelligent, well spoken girl. Heiress to her daddy’s mining fortune up north, used to the finer things but seeking some adventure. And Dutch had offered you both. Drowned you in jewels and gifts- though unlike the ones you had once owned the ones he gave were not his to give- Shown you off like a shiny new toy on his arm. Expressly informed Miss Grimshaw that you were not to be lifting a finger, that you would not have to earn your keep with chores like the others. 

You earned your keep by looking beautiful beside him, by boosting his ego with your constant devotion to him, by letting Dutch use you for his own source of pleasure and by the sounds of things- that Arthur truly had no choice but to overhear- not getting very much back in return. 

“ You know I don’t think I’ve ever met a more selfish woman in my life! “ Arthur sighed and sat down on his cot, debating whether or not to make some attempt to get the sleep he had been planning the entire long journey back to Clemens Point. But his tent was but a stone's throw from Dutch’s. 

“ I have needs too Dutch Van Der Linde!” Everyone else in camp didn’t seem to mind it though, most of them preparing to settle in for the night. Whether that be passing out on their bedrolls or drinking by the fire. But Arthur wasn’t sure he could put up with another moment of the damn yelling. 

“ oh? You have needs? “ Dutch’s voice was condescending. Mocking “ I give you everything! You are acting like a spoiled child”

“ a child? A child!? “ Arthur stood back up again, deciding he’d fare better trying to sleep on the damn ground rather than next to the likes of you and Dutch. So he headed out towards the edge of camp, hiding himself in the woods by the water. He slumped down against a tree with a heavy sigh and wished he’d thought to pick up a bottle of beer on the way. 

But it was no matter. He was far enough away that he couldn’t hear the fighting anymore, but close enough that if he was needed anyone calling his name would be heard. 

He looked out across the water, enjoying his rare moment of peace. It was a clear night and a full moon, the reflection bouncing off the water in the most beautiful way. He pulled out his journal and started to sketch it, wishing he could capture its beauty better. 

‘ Dutch and the girl were arguing again. Got out of earshot for a bit to try catch some sleep. Thought the water and the moon looked mighty pretty ‘ 

He scrawled underneath when he was done, tucking it back into the satchel discarded at his side. Javier's guitar had silenced back in camp now and he figured everyone had gone off to bed. But he was quite content there by the water, so dropped his hat over his face and settled in to try and catch a few hours himself. 

He was just dozing off when he heard the sound of boots marching quickly through the undergrowth, snapping twigs as they went. And then the soft sound of someone mumbling to themselves. He silently hoped whoever it was would keep well away from him. But the boots grew nearer and came to a halt not so far away. The crackle of a match being lit and a heavy sigh. 

“ thinks he can talk to me like that? Bastard. Bastard he is. I’m a lady I deserve better than. Than that “ 

You. 

He cleared his throat lightly to inform you that he was there, but unfortunately still seemed to startle you. 

“ Christ! Gave me a damn heart attack Arthur “ he placed his hat down with his satchel with a sigh and looked up at you. In the light of the moon reflecting off the water he could see your cheeks were tear stained, the glow of the end of your cigarette illuminating your face further and showing your makeup in streaks. 

He couldn’t lie that it made his heart ache for you. He didn’t particularly have any solid feelings for you, but he did feel sorry for you. It was hard not to feel sorry for the woman seduced by Dutch. 

And you truly were a cut above the rest in his opinion. Beautiful as the early morning sun and, when you weren’t screaming at Dutch, as kind and warm as it too. But maybe that was fitting. Because much like the sun you could bask people in warmth, but burn them too. Beautiful and bright but scalding and he found he couldn’t look at you for too long, no matter how many times he wanted too. Simply blinding his eyes with your flaming beauty and having to turn away. 

But maybe he was just getting caught up in his metaphors. 

“ shouldn’t be out this far from camp “ you simply shrugged, taking another drag of your cigarette “ ain’t no one nice lingerin’ in woods at night miss” even if no Lemoyne raiders were sneaking around the trees, there were plenty of species of wildlife that would happily do a number on you. Chew off a leg or bite you with poison fangs. You didn’t know how to take care of yourself. You couldn’t handle a gun, didn’t have a single survival instinct in you. 

Dutch had quite made sure of that, he’d heard you ask once or twice. And had been denied. Charming you with some string of words about how you were far too delicate to be handling a gun. To leave it for the men. 

“ you’re lingering in the woods aren’t you Mr Morgan? “ he chuckled and shrugged. 

“ and I ain’t that nice. Point proven lady “ 

“ not like Dutch would care if someone took me anyway. He’d probably be thankful “ your voice was hoarse from the shouting and he couldn’t tell if you were going to cry again or not. You took a long drag of your cigarette before seeming to suddenly remember something, dipping your hand into the waistband of your skirt and pulling out a pack “ sorry my manners. Want one? “ he took one with a nod of thanks “ can I sit? “

You sat down carefully beside him then with a long sigh, tucking your legs beneath you, and leant forward so he could light the cigarette between his lips with the end of yours. 

“ thanks “ you both sat quietly for a short while. Smoking and watching the ripples in the water. He didn’t mind it actually, as much as he had been slightly annoyed at you disturbing his attempt to sleep. You were decent company. 

You rarely strayed from Dutch’s side, but on the odd occasion you had and Arthur had stumbled upon you having a moment to yourself at the edge of camp it had been quite nice. So he didn’t mind sitting there with you, company. For you both. 

“ I think you’re nice. By the way “ you said to break the silence, refrenching his previous comment of bad men lingering in the woods. 

“ No offense to you Miss, but you’re in love with old Dutch. I don’t think you’re particularly qualified to be sayin’ whether folk is nice or not “ he said it teasingly in some hopes of making you smile. And it did. A little. 

“ maybe not “ he watched you bring your cigarette to your lips again, glancing at your hands. Nails perfectly trimmed and not a single speck of dirt or sign of a scar. Hands that had never had to lift a finger. Ever. It was an interesting contrast to his own. Calloused and scarred and bruised “ but Dutch he… he…Can I ask you something? “ 

“ Sure “ he said and flicked his cigarette away. 

“ Do you think I’m beautiful Arthur? “ you asked meekly. Your face was sad. Lingering innocence yet to be wiped away by life somehow, the kind that only remained because you had lived a life so sheltered. Even with Dutch you were as sheltered as could be “ and don’t lie. Please “

“ I think you’re beautiful, sure “ you turned back to the water again, tossing your own cigarette before promptly lighting another. 

“ Dutch doesn’t. Not anymore. Barely even looks at me “ Arthur ran a hand over his face, not entirely sure what he was supposed to say to you in the situation. At all “ I know I know I don’t expect you to agree. You two you’re…you’re like two peas in a pod aren’t you? “ you said with a small laugh, but it held no humour. You took a long drag of your cigarette. 

“ me and Dutch it’s… we go back a long way. But… I will agree the way he’s been treatin’ you. Ain't nice. Not when you done nothin’ but be loyal to him for so long “ you turned back to him again and gave a small smile. It was like a wave of relief had washed right over you. 

Someone was finally listening. 

“ I think he’s got his eyes on Mary-Beth “ you mumbled, red stained lips wrapping around your cigarette again. Much like how he had found himself admiring your hands he now found himself admiring your lips. Soft and plump and stained red in the way they often were. 

He blamed it on his fatigue. 

“ he’d be a fool to give you up. You’re kind, loyal, hell you might jus’ be the most beautiful woman I know. He’s in a weird place right now. He’ll snap outta it, be back to readin’ you Evelyn Miller in no time. You’ll see “ maybe the last part wasn’t entirely true. But the first part was. And you seemed to bask in his compliments. He wondered when the last time Dutch had said something nice to you had actually been. 

“ Thank you “ you looked as though you might cry again. And he really hoped you wouldn’t. He didn’t like to see you cry. And he really wouldn’t know what to say to you then. Once again you turned your attention back to the water and gave a small sigh “ maybe I chose the wrong outlaw “ you said with a small laugh “ always have thought you were quite handsome “ 

He nearly choked on his own saliva, clearing his throat in hopes to pass it out smoothly. He didn’t know if it had worked. 

“ Really? “ 

“ Hmm “ you mused, tilting your head inquisitively to the side “ but you were oh so hung up on that Mary girl when I found Dutch”

“ Yeah well. Mary she’s- that’s all done with now “ maybe Mary was the reason he seemed to sympathise with you so. Because he too had had a broken heart. Though he was sure his was not as brutal as yours. 

“ Guess we both have bad taste don’t we Mr Morgan “ he chuckled and nodded. 

“ That we do miss. That we do “ he placed a gentle hand to your shoulder and squeezed in some form of comfort “ don’t worry bout Dutch though. Really. He’ll come to his senses and if…if he don’t then. Any man would be lucky to have ya “ you sniffled and he figured you’d started crying again “ I didn’t mean to upset- “

“ No. No I’m fine. It’s just…you mean it all don’t you? All these kind words? “ he shrugged and then nodded. 

“ Sure I do. You’re a beautiful woman. Inside an out “ something seemed to flash across your face, a million and one things whirring away behind your eyes. He’d never been that good at reading people, never one for knowing what people were thinking. And the look on your face was the most confusing he’d ever seen. 

The next part happened far too quickly for him to process it. Maybe because he was tired, maybe because he truly hadn’t even slightly suspected you to do it. You flicked away the butt of your cigarette and leaned forward, one hand to his leg and the other to his neck. And kissed him. 

He was taken aback and you pulled away before he could make any attempt to figure out what you’d just done. 

“ Sorry “ you sighed in slight annoyance, seemingly at yourself, sitting back beside him again. Like it was no big deal. Just something that had happened and had no real consequence “ shit- sorry “ Arthur scratched the back of his neck awkwardly and shrugged with a small laugh. Attempting to play it as cool as you clearly were. 

Maybe he’d finally cracked and entered some weird fatigue induced psychosis, hallucinations and hearing voices. And kissing Dutch’s woman. 

“ S’okay. No harm done “ he was bewildered. Trying to process the last 30 seconds and coming up completely blank. 

“ Just the way you talk about me I- Lord forgive me “ he was certain he must have looked half dense. Still completely confused at what on earth was happening with you. And maybe, just maybe, a tiny bit flustered at having a woman like you kiss him. Even if you were begging the Lord for forgiveness right after it “ no one’s spoken to me like that in a long time and…and I wish they had. I want to be told I’m beautiful again. I want to be kissed. I want I want…I want a lot of things “ 

Maybe Arthur was a stupid, idiotic fool. Maybe too many gunshot wounds and bumps to the head had finally caught up to him. Maybe he too wanted to act on his ever growing annoyance with how Dutch was behaving. But he found himself reaching out, fingers tucking under your chin to turn your face to look at him. Your eyes were so beautiful up close. Practically sparkling in the moonlight.

Oh he was such a fool. 

“ could’a jus’ asked “ a small smile tugged at your lips and you laughed a little. 

“ Yeah. Of course. Because you’d have said yes Arthur? “ he shrugged. He didn’t know if he would’ve actually. But now the thought was in his head “ alright “ you whispered and shuffled a little closer to him “ indulge me “ 

His thumb was absentmindedly brushing over your jaw, looking at you in the light of the moon and wondering how on earth Dutch wasn’t constantly begging for your attention. If he had a woman like you constantly hanging off his every word he wouldn’t know how to act. Would be like a mangy dog trailing around after you for food.  

“ I might’ve “ you gave a roll of your eyes but you were smiling still, a beautiful, tempting smile.

You were a temptress. A siren. Luring him in with your beauty to do something terrible. And you were vulnerable. Sad and seeking appreciation. And he was truly debating it. 

“ Well…“ you started quietly, looking up at him through your long lashes in a way that made his chest go tight “ there is… still time for you to say yes “ 

“ we ain’t gonna tell no one bout this y’hear? This it’s… it’s jus’ between me and you. Okay? “ your eyebrows furrowed for a second looking up at him intently, as if trying to figure out if he was joking or not. If he was serious. He wasn’t entirely sure himself, needed you to agree or disagree to put the thought to rest.  His thumb continued to brush along your jaw tenderly and your eyes fell closed for a moment. 

How long had it been since someone had touched you with such care? That something as simple as that seemed to mean so much to you. 

“ I understand “ you whispered, eyes flickering down to his lips again. He pulled you in close, barely an inch between your lips and then spoke again “ you’ll give me what I want? Don’t treat me like him “ 

“ Anythin’ ya want. You got it. I’ll give ya what you deserve “ you let a shuddering breath escape and gave a small nod before closing the gap between you both again. 

He hadn’t kissed anyone in a while, but he sure found his footing quickly. You kissed him like he was your source of air, climbing your way into his lap and slipping your hands into his hair. You tasted of cigarette smoke and something almost sweet. Whatever it was, it was an intoxicating mix. You were like a siren singing your call in his ear, drawing him in and taking him for your own. The weight of you in his lap was almost familiar, welcoming. Just… nice. 

He had almost forgotten just how fun it was to kiss a woman. How so many men seemed to shun it as boring, pointless- Dutch obviously included. But Arthur had always loved it. Had spent many a night as a youngster sneaking his way into Mary’s room just to kiss her. To spend hours kissing and talking and kissing some more. 

Kissing you was something else. Addictive. Intoxicating. 

Eventually he had to pull away, his lungs screaming at him for air. Your hands slipped out from his hair and down to grasp at the collar of his shirt, resting your forehead on his. 

“ Anything I want you say? “ you asked quietly, breathless. 

“ Anythin’ “ you smiled and lifted your head, a quiet determination settling over you. Your lipstick had smeared and he wondered how much of it was now on his own face. 

“ okay… undress me then “ you softly commanded, shifting slightly in his lap “ please. Dutch never- he makes me do it myself, barely even looks I- Please “ 

He almost laughed to himself about now he immediately thought getting you naked was entirely too risky. As if the entire situation alone wasn’t risky anyway. But he didn’t want to think too hard about that, instead simply channelled his recent annoyance towards Dutch into his actions. Tried to tell himself he was doing a good thing, taking care of you. 

You watched his face carefully as he gently untucked your shirt from where it was tucked into your skirt, some silky soft thing that probably cost more than everything he owned in his clothing trunk put together. He undid every pearl button slowly, eyes darting up to your face as he did. Your chest was heaving in long, heavy breaths. You were nervous. Or excited. He couldn’t tell which. 

You shivered lightly when he pushed it from your shoulders, now only the soft cotton of your chemise between his hands and your chest. Your nipples had hardened, from the slight night chill or lust he couldn’t say. But he found himself unable to resist the sight, leaning forward and capturing one between his lips through the cotton. You gasped softly, a sound so beautiful it made him groan. You sounded delicate. Innocent. You’d never made such sounds when he’d overheard you with Dutch. In fact a majority of the time you almost sounded in pain. 

But this sound wasn’t that. This sound was beautiful. And he wanted to hear more. One hand pushed at your back to bring you closer, the other palmed at your neglected breast in hopes you’d make the sound again. And you did. Gentle, soft gasps as his tongue dampened the material of your chemise, teeth tugging at you gently through the material. Your hand found his hair again, raking your fingers through it and arching your back into his touch. 

He couldn’t imagine why Dutch had never wanted to do such a thing. How could he not want to hear you make those pretty pretty sounds? How could he not want to feel you writhing in his lap and yearning to be touched. Maybe Dutch was more of a fool than he had originally thought. 

“ Need you to touch me- properly I- take this off “ your sentence was choppy, like you weren’t focussed enough to truly articulate the words you wanted to say. But he understood, pulling your chemise over your head and dropping it to land with your shirt. 

He took a moment just to look at you, not even entirely because he knew you’d want him to. Just because he wanted to. He’d be a liar if he said he hadn’t wondered what was hiding under your expensive clothes once or twice. How could he not when he had to try sleep through the sounds of you and Dutch of a night. 

“ God damn “ he said softly, hands soothing over your waist as you basked in his admiring stare, taking in the feeling of finally being looked at. Properly. 

“ like what you see Mr Morgan “ you asked, voice sultry and low in a way that made his cock twitch in his pants. 

“ Dutch is a damn fool “ is all he could say, leaning forward to kiss you again, his hands moving to grab at your chest. You moaned into the kiss as he squeezed and massaged your breasts with his large hands, seizing the opportunity to dip his tongue into the warmth of your mouth. Your fingers in his hair, twisting strands around your fingers and tugging lightly. He felt like he was on cloud nine. Certain he’d somehow taken a stumble through the veil and ended up at heaven's gates. 

He wasn’t a particularly religious man, but the way he was prepared to worship and praise you could truly be considered blasphemous. 

He couldn’t resist the temptation of getting his mouth on you again much longer, dragging his lips from yours and wrapping them around a pebbled nipple instead. You rolled your hips against him, those beautiful soft moans still falling past your lips. This was what you had wanted from him. To be worshipped. To be looked at as the beautiful temptress of a woman you were. And not merely glanced at and then used like some two dollar whore in a saloon. 

He wanted to nip at your skin, bite and soothe it with his tongue. But he knew he couldn’t. Couldn’t risk Dutch seeing it if he felt the need to stop ignoring you for a short while for his own needs. But oh how he wanted to. To mark up your smooth skin with reminders that you were desired. That you could look at as they faded and be reminded that you were wanted. 

“ I need more “ you whispered “ Arthur please. Give me more “ another roll of your hips followed by a small whimper told him enough. 

“ I know I got ya “ he murmured against your skin, pressing kisses up your sternum and your neck. Nose brushing at the underside of your jaw and working his way back to your lips again “ stand up. Lemme get you out of these damn clothes “ he caught the smile on your face as you stood up, he stayed seated and ran his hands over the fabric covering your hips. Something seemed to blaze in your eyes as you looked down on him. He realised it was most probably you that was usually being leered down on, but not now. 

Not with him. Not with Arthur. Arthur looked up at you like the goddess you were, looked up at you with what he knew was a silent pleading in his eyes. Dutch would never ask he knew it. Dutch took. Stole. Used. Arthur didn’t. Wouldn’t. 

“ I like how you look at me “ you said quietly, hand soothing over his hair “ you make me feel beautiful “

“ Cause y’are “ he murmured, hands reaching to the ties of your skirt. He wanted to see more. Wanted to see all of you. 

You helped him with the slightly tedious task of getting your skirts and undergarments off, but all so slowly. Taking his time. Making sure he appreciated every single layer of clothing you removed for him, right down to unlacing your boots and holding your leg gently to help you out of them. Until you stood there as naked as the day you were born, illuminated by the moonlight on the water. 

“ well ain’t you a sight “

Your skin was so smooth. Soft. Not a single scar that he could see. The skin of a woman who had never had to lift a finger. Had never known the hardships that he had. The only true blemish on your skin was the almost completely faded bruises on your hips. Fingertips. Dutch. 

He soothed his hands up your legs, pressing soft kisses to the pillowy flesh of your thighs as he went, and stopped as he reached them. 

“ He can be a little rough. It’s how he likes it “ you answered before he could even ask. Arthur too had been known to have his rougher moments. But he could never hurt you. Never mark you in anyway other than that of affection and care. 

“ I ain’t like that “ 

“ I know. That’s why I want you “ he pulled you back down into his lap, his large hands splaying over your hips as he took yet another moment just to look. To admire. To thank whatever stupid damn God may exist for placing such a heavenly body in his presence “ I feel a little like the odd one out here though “ you said with a small smile, tracing a finger down from the open top buttons of his shirt to his pants. 

He’d been far too occupied with you to even really notice the fact that he was ridiculously overdressed in comparison. 

“ Can’t have that now can we darlin’ “ your smile grew and you made quick work of the buttons on his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders with a gentle sigh. You ran your fingers through the hair on his chest, nails scratching lightly at his skin and peppering lipstick stained kisses as you went. Littering his collarbones, his sternum.

“ much better “ your hands kept roaming and your lips kept kissing. Hands seemingly wanting to touch him all, scratching lightly up his sides and over his waist, his stomach and his ribs. Slowly moving to slide over his shoulders and loop around his neck. You rolled your hips against him again and whined softly. He was so hard it was growing painful as he stayed restrained by his pants. But he wasn’t selfish. Not like Dutch. And he wasn’t about to seek out any form of pleasure himself until he had you seeing the stars you deserved. 

“ tell me what y’want “ he murmured, peppering soft kisses across your jaw. 

“ touch me “ you sighed blissfully “ please touch me “ 

His hand slipped down in between your bodies, brushing past the soft curls between your legs and couldn’t contain the groan of a sound that left him when he felt how warm and wet you were. 

“ Christ “ he muttered as your head dropped to his shoulder with a shuddering breath “ he ever touch you like this? “ he asked lowly, already knowing the answer. Why would he? He didn’t get anything out of it. 

But Arthur did. Oh Arthur did. 

“ no “ you whispered “ no never…please. More “ he tested the waters, pressing lightly against your clit and revelling in the squeak of a sound that it caused you to make. 

“ or like this? " You shook your head again, breathing shakily as he dragged his finger through the wetness and drew light circles around your entrance. 

“ Arthur “ you moaned his name in the most delicious way as he pushed his finger inside, burying it to the knuckle 

“ yeah and what about this darlin? “ he again knew the answer. Dutch didn’t care about your pleasure. Didn’t care about wasting time on something as simple as making you whimper and whine for more “ he touch you like this? “ 

“ no “ 

“ think ya can take one more for me? “ you nodded again and he withdrew his finger, gathering your slick on his other before pushing them both past the resistance of your entrance “ that’a girl “ he pumped his fingers in and out steadily, curling and probing at your velvety soft walls to test what you liked. 

“ This is so… oh god. This isn’t proper at all “ you laughed slightly, melting into a soft moan. Arthur chuckled, lifting your face up so you’d look at him. 

“ Ain’t proper at all? It’s damn right filthy darlin” your cheeks were aflame and you closed your eyes for a moment, grinding yourself against his hand “ look at ya. Drippin all over ma fingers like that. Ain’t proper. Not one bit “ you smiled, a cheeky, devious smile that made him lean forward and kiss you again. 

You were so wet it was obscene. He couldn’t tell where the sounds of you kissing stopped and the sopping sounds of his fingers began. You continued to grind down against his palm, practically riding his fingers, his whole hand wet and sticky with you. 

And he wanted to taste it. To taste you. To flood his mouth with the slick, liquid gold covering his fingers. It was an almost primal desire, like a desperation as strong as needing air. He needed to. He had to. 

“ Darlin’ “ he murmured, lifting your head from where it had fallen to his neck again “ gotta let me taste you. You gotta “ the look on your face only made him want it more. Your skin flushed and eyes blown out with nothing but pure lust and desire. He’d never needed anything more. Nothing else mattered, not the painful hardness in his pants, not the realisation that you were very much Dutch’s girl. He didn’t care about any of that. He just needed to be between your thighs. 

“ really? No one’s ever- oh god. Yes. Yes. Please Arthur “ he withdrew his fingers making you whimper and quickly grabbed his discarded shirt and lay it down on the ground. Then he kissed you again as he wrapped his arms around your waist, gently turning you to lay back on the shirt. It still couldn’t have been particularly comfortable. But you didn’t seem to mind, tugging at his hair and lifting your hips up against him as he hovered over you. 

He took his time moving down. Leaving a long and slow trail of hot, wet, kisses on your skin. You writhed underneath him, whining softly and twisting your hands in his shirt underneath you. He took extra time with your thighs. Kissing up from the inside of your knee and stopping before he could place his mouth where he really wanted to, then repeating with the other. 

“ Arthur “ you whined, still squirming around and desperate. 

“ I know. I got ya. Gonna make those pretty sounds for me again yeah? "You nodded, pushing yourself up onto your elbows to watch him as his head sank lower, spreading your legs wider to give him full access to the centre of you “ that’s a good girl “ he spread you open with his fingers, in awe of the way you parted for him. Like petals on a flower, dripping with the morning dew. 

But you were far more delectable. A forbidden fruit begging to be tasted. 

And oh was it pretty. Even in the dark, in nothing but the light of the moon on the water, it was pretty. Begging to be tasted, touched. Admired. 

The sound you made as he dragged his tongue from your weeping hole to your clit was like music to his ears. He didn’t know how he managed to not come in his pants just at the sound of it. 

You still kept it quiet, but loud enough for him. 

His own, deep, guttural moan escaped from his chest as he licked again. Your taste flooding his mouth in a way so so much better than he could’ve imagined. 

He ate you like he was starved. Like a savage predator that hadn’t seen meat for days, like a man ready for the gallows enjoying his last meal. His arms wrapped around your thighs, keeping your legs apart for him as you bucked and squirmed against his face. It was visceral. Carnal. You made him feel like his grip on his own composure and control was weaker than ever, that he was holding on to it with nothing but his fingertips. 

“ Arthur “ he dipped his tongue into the welcoming warmth of your cunt, his eyes falling closed for a moment as he felt you clench around him, desperate for more. Desperate for him. And he would give you more, would give you anything you asked of him. But not until he made you come first. 

He let go of one of your legs and brought his fingers back to their previous position, wanting to feel you again. To be inside of you, as close as he could get. To make you see stars. 

The flat of his tongue found your clit again, certain he could feel you pulsing against him. Desperate and full of desire for him. He felt honoured, privileged. That you were so loyal to Dutch, glued to his side. Never even batting an eye at anyone else. And yet you had broken that for him. Had sought him out because you knew he would treat you well. 

Your back arched off the ground as he sunk them back into you, slipping in with a welcome ease. His thick fingers pumped into you at a steady pace, his tongue diverting all its attention to your clit. Lapping and sucking and letting you press his face harder against you as you tugged on his hair. 

“ don’t stop please dont- Arthur “ he had no intentions of stopping, none at all. In fact he simply honed in on his ministrations, working harder to push you closer and closer to the edge of the orgasm he knew you had been craving for weeks. 

“ Not gonna stop darlin. Ain’t stopping until you come for me. Taste so good, so good “ he murmured against you, curling his fingers and hitting a spot that made you gasp and your body shudder “ there we go, right there “ 

He flicked his tongue over your sensitive bundle of nerves, looking at you as best he could to gauge your reaction. You were pulling a little painfully at his hair, squirming and rolling your hips against his face. He let you do it. Let you be the one using a man for your pleasure, rather than being the one used for once. 

Your sounds were sinful. Melodic. He took it all in. Basked in the noises you made for him, the delicious taste of you on his tongue, drunk on you. On your taste. Your smell. 

“ Arthur- Arthur please I- “ you babbled, a slightly smug smile working its way onto his face as he watched your prim and proper facade melt away “ don’t stop “ 

He hummed an assurance that he wouldn’t, your hips bucking against his face as he did. You were so unbelievably wet, dripping out around his fingers and soaking the hair of his beard. He would never have thought it of you. The way you held yourself around camp, so poised and prim. The accent when you spoke that made everyone else around you sound so common. And yet there you were. On your back in the woods, chasing an orgasm being offered to you by an outlaw. Repeating his name like a mantra. 

And not even that of the outlaw you were in love with.

“ Arthur- “

Only seconds later it happened. You held a hand over your mouth as your orgasm hit you, muffling your choked moans, back arching off the ground and walls clamping down on his fingers as he worked you through it. Tongue still working diligently at your clit until you pushed your hand at his head, squirming away a little. 

He almost didn’t want to stop. Could’ve happily stayed there a while longer, but moved back, an obscene wet sound in the late night silence as he withdrew his fingers. 

He took his fingers to his mouth, sucking the remnants of your climax onto his tongue. Unable to control himself. You watched him do it, mouth slightly agape and eyes half open with some desperate undeniable look of utter desire. He could almost see the way it made you feel, could see you unable to contain the overwhelming feeling of realising you were desired. Wanted. 

“ God. You are unbelievable “ you whispered, pushing yourself up onto your elbows and grabbing at his arm. Your fingers looped around his wrist and tugged his hand towards your own mouth. He shook his head with a chuckle, slightly in awe as you took those same two fingers between your red lips. 

Your tongue swirled between his digits, plush lips wrapping around them and sucking. Your eyes locked on his as you did. It made his cock ache. He wanted your lips on him, wanted your tongue swirling around his length and milking him dry. He could imagine it if he thought hard enough. The way you hummed slightly in appreciation as you sucked his fingers clean, sent vibrations straight through his bones. Rattling him to the core. But he would never ask that of you. But the thought was one he would hold onto. It made him shift slightly. 

“ you ain’t so prim and proper lady “ he murmured as he withdrew his fingers, a string of saliva connecting his fingertips and your lips “ This ain’t very proper of you miss “ Arthur said with a small smile, teasing “ rollin’ around in the dirt with the likes of me “ 

“ Oh to hell with being proper if it means I get to feel like this “ you said with a small laugh and he kissed you again for what felt like the millionth time. He wondered if you could taste yourself on his lips, smell the heady delicious smell of you on his beard.

He would’ve been more than happy to leave it at that. No matter how badly he wanted to sheath himself inside you and stay there for eternity. His goal had been your pleasure and he had achieved it. 

But as he kissed you your hands began working at the buckle of his gun belt, opening it with a skilled ease that made him pull back. 

“ Darlin’ you ain’t gotta do that- “

“ shush “ you pushed at him lightly so you could sit up and went to work on the buttons on his pants next “ I want to. I- Arthur take them off “ he made far quicker work of his own clothes than he had of yours and you leant back on your elbows to watch him. 

You looked like a pinup girl. Like something he’d seen drawn come to life. Your eyes seemed hungry as you looked at him, dragging down his body and lingering on his rock hard cock. He was practically throbbing with want, the tip an angry shade of pink and leaking precum slightly embarrassingly “ come here. Please. Back down here “ 

He did as he was asked, crawling back over your body as you eyed him greedily. 

“ We really don’t…I mean, If y’don’t wanna- “ his words stuck in his throat as your fingers wrapped around the length of him with a small sigh. 

“ I want you to I just…can I ask one thing? “ he couldn’t get the word yes to escape his mouth, your fingers squeezing him softly in a way that made him see flashes of white in his vision. So he simply nodded “ don’t fuck me. Dutch fucks me, make love to me “ you seemed a little embarrassed at the request. But he didn’t think it was embarrassing. In fact he had had no plans to use you as brutally as Dutch. He was almost a little offended you thought he might. 

“ Told you, anythin’ you want. You got it “ you smiled softly and pressed another kiss to his lips before laying back down again. He positioned himself over you, caging your head in between his arms. And it truly was incredibly intimate. He wondered when the last time you had had such intimacy was. If you’d ever received such a thing from Dutch. 

He spat on his hand and grabbed a hold of his sensitive cock, stroking himself a couple of times to get himself slick. Not that he really needed to, you were already wetter than he’d ever known a woman to be. But the last thing he wanted was your discomfort. He lined himself up with you, eyes trained on your face as he dragged his weeping tip between your folds. You gasped as he caught your clit, still sensitive and alert from your first orgasm. 

“ Arthur please “ you whimpered rolling your hips up against him, so desperate to have him inside of you. 

“ So God damn wet for me “ he murmured “ such a good girl ain’t ya? “ you whined in answer, fingers wrapping around what you could of his bicep and digging your perfectly trimmed nails into his skin “ gonna make you feel so good I promise darlin’ jus’ like you deserve yeah? “ you whispered out a yes and brought your other hand to the back of his neck. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from you, still running his cock along the length of your slit. Teasing. 

“ Keep looking at me. Please look at me Arthur “ he continued to do as asked. Again. Though his eyes had barely strayed from your face anyway “ I need you so badly “ Eyes locked on yours, he finally pushed into you, he took it slow. Letting you take it inch by inch, watching the look of ecstasy wash over your face. Your eyes fell closed. 

He fought to retain his own composure, overwhelmed by the tight, wet, warmth of your walls enveloping him. He could feel every unique ridge and bump that made your cunt oh so perfect, feel every muscle stretch and contract as you adjusted to him. 

“ god- oh god “ 

“ shh shh easy there. I got ya “ he paused once he was seated inside of you, grabbing at your hip with one hand to angle your hips better. Allowing you to comfortably take all of him in. He waited, let you adjust to his size, not daring to move before he got the go ahead from you “ there you go, look at you, takin’ all of me like that. So good f’me “ you basked in his praise, a dopey kind of smile spreading across your face.

“ so much bigger than him “ you whispered with a small laugh and Arthur couldn’t help the smug smile on his face. Kissing you and touching you and making you come on his tongue had been one thing. But having you like this? Having his cock buried to the hilt inside of you, so unbelievably close together. And to then be told that? To know he was about to do you better than Dutch ever had. Ever could. It felt like the biggest fuck you to the man that had been not only mistreating him of late, but also the goddess of a woman beneath him “ I’m good. You can move. Please move “ 

He didn’t need telling twice. Pulling out almost completely and thrusting back in in one smooth motion. The pace he fell into was just as you’d asked. Loving. Tender. But hard and deep, making sure his hips were flush with yours with every stroke. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulled his face back down to kiss him again. 

If anyone had spotted you they’d have easily mistaken you both for a lovesick couple having a private moment to yourselves. The entire thing intimate and passionate. No one would assume it was an affair in motion, hidden away in the woods by the shoreline in fear of your lover finding the pair of you there. 

But it was what you wanted. What you had needed. And he felt privileged to provide. 

He pulled back from your lips to watch you again, enthralled by the way your face relaxed and twisted in the pleasure he was providing you. You continued to spill those angelic sounds from your throat, growing breathier and higher pitch as he continued to drag his cock against the sopping, sensitive heat of your cunt. He had to focus hard not to finish in seconds. So much build up paired with being practically celibate for months was truly doing him no favours, but he focussed. He wasn’t letting this end until you came once more. You deserved it. 

“ Keep those pretty eyes on me “ he murmured as they fell closed again “ that’s it darlin’, look at me there ya go “ everytime he spoke the slightest word of praise you practically beamed, so desperate to hear it. To be told you were good. Beautiful. So different to Dutch constantly yelling at you about how annoying you were, how much your mere presence bothered him these days. So he kept it up. 

“ Doin’ so well for me. This pussy it’s perfect, ain’t that right? C’mon tell me “ he urged, still fighting off his ever looming orgasm. The sounds alone was enough to make him want to burst. Sweat slicked skin on skin, the wet sounds of your cunt dripping around the swollen intrusion of him. And those sweet sweet moans of yours. 

“ yes “ you whimpered “ it’s perfect “ 

“ That’s a good girl “ he increased his pace ever so slightly and your hands slipped from his arms to his back, dragging your nails down him to try to pull him impossibly closer to you. 

He moved a hand down between your bodies, rubbing your clit in time with his thrusts, grunting and choking back his own moans as you squeezed him. Like your body never wanted him to leave, gripping his cock with your cunt and making it ever more harder to hold back. He couldn’t help but have a look, glancing down to see the way you stretched around him, mesmerised at the way you took him in so deep. 

“ tell me I- oh. Tell me I’m beautiful “ you whimpered, sounding almost like you might cry. From pleasure, from upset. He didn’t know. But he continued to do as asked. 

“ you’re beautiful “ he murmured picking up his pace a little more, his sweat slick skin slapping against yours. He was desperate to see you come again. Wanted to see your face up close this time, watch your eyes roll back and your kiss swollen lips part in ecstasy “ so beautiful darlin. Doin’ so well f’me, takin’ me so well “ 

“ don’t stop, don't stop “ he dropped his head to your neck whispering every word of praise he could think of into your ear, your body arching up against his and whimpering and whining with every word. 

“ ain’t ever looked prettier than this “ he whispered, his own voice becoming breathless with the effort “ shit- look at ya, takin’ my cock so well. So pretty darlin’ “ 

Your second orgasm seemed to shock you as much as him, clawing at his skin to hold him close as your body trembled beneath him, biting at his shoulder to muffle your moans. 

He didn’t mean to finish inside of you, had fully intended to pull out. But the way your cunt had squeezed him, the sounds you had made as he pushed you over the edge for the second time.

He muffled his own groan of pleasure in your neck, fingers digging into the dry earth beneath you, spilling load after load whilst fully sheathed inside of you. His entire body tensed, a pleasure he hadn’t felt in an incredibly long time. His heart was hammering in his chest, blood rushing loudly in his ears as it seemed to drag on forever. 

And then he came to his senses. 

“ m’sorry. Shit. Sorry “ he panted as he tried to compose himself and pushed himself up onto his hands to pull out. But you yanked him back down, arms wrapping around his back again and legs tightening around his waist. 

“ no. Please. Stay. Stay right there. Just a moment would you “ he had come to realise in the past.. how long had you two even been out there? However long it was, he’d come to realise he was terrible at saying no to you. Could never possibly even dream to deny you of anything you wanted from him. And so he slumped back down onto his forearms, dropping his head against your shoulder for a moment. Your chest heaved beneath him and you caught your breath, fingers tracing gentle strokes along his spine. He felt he could stay there for hours. 

“ You doin’ okay? “ he asked, pressing a light kiss to your jaw when he had composed himself a little more. 

“ marvellous Mr Morgan “ you whispered with a small smile “ truly. Marvellous “ he couldn’t help but kiss you again, the long lingering kind meant for two lovers. 

After a few minutes you both finally moved, re dressing in silence and then sitting back in your original position against the tree. He handed you a cigarette, lighting it and placing it between your lips. 

He wondered what he looked like. Wondered what evidence you had left on him. Had he sweated off the lipstick prints on his chest or were they still there? He knew you had scratched his back up good and proper and would have that reminder there for a few days at least. 

“ Thank you. Mr Morgan '' you said quietly after a few silent moments of smoking, blowing out a long stream of smoke “ I mean it I- i'm not sure what I’m supposed to say “ 

“ Don’t say anythin’ “ he said with a small wave of his hand, appearing as blaise as he possibly could but in reality knowing he wasn’t about to forget that night anytime soon “ its fine. Really. Anytime y’need me, for anythin’, you know where I’ll be “ you smiled and he watched your body relax a little more. 

“ you know, i might just take you up on that “ 

He sincerely hoped you would. 

[pearlesscentt]

kitchen floor picnic

it was finals week, or hell week as you’d affectionately call it, and due to the onslaught of deadlines, everything was in shambles. good thing, you have your boyfriend to weather that cyclone with you.

mingyu x reader, college!au, established relationship, fluff, 1.2k words

in contrast to science, sound traveled faster than light—literally at that very moment.

when MINGYU opened the door to your studio apartment, it was pitch black, and all he could hear were your soft snores and the whirring of the dinky air conditioner. he started walking in blindly, worried about waking you up if he dared to turn on the lights, so he just clutched the paper bag full of groceries and hoped for the best.

his luck seemed to run out within a few seconds, as it wasn't long before he tripped over something hard, making him yelp in pain.

“shit,” he cursed under his breath. when the noise registered, his head immediately snapped in your direction, and he sighed in relief when you remained fast asleep. he kneeled down to clutch the toe he had stubbed and reached for his phone. he fumbled with it before eventually clicking on the torch, realizing he tripped over your bicycle helmet lying haphazardly in the hallway.

she must've tossed it on the floor from exhaustion, he thought, picking it up to hang it on one of the hooks on the wall.

it was finals week, or hell week as you’d affectionately call it. “i might not survive,” you told him at the beginning of the week during an afternoon at the library. “in our next life, remind me never to study architecture. this is torture, i will never put myself through this again,” you groaned dramatically.

he reassured you of everything you were capable of because he knew by now that the theatrics were just a part of your process for acing your classes. if there was one thing he was sure of, it was that you were an exceptional student. that was why he could only chuckle as you spent the next fifteen minutes complaining about your program while also perfectly tracing the pencil marks with ease on the plan you were working on.

which brings MINGYU to his current predicament: he was standing in the middle of your apartment, unsure of what to do next. he turned on the downlights from the kitchen. it was still dark enough to not disturb your sleep, while being bright enough for him to see the current state of your place.

it was a mess—even the word felt like an understatement. it was a category 5 tropical cyclone. there were different drawing and drafting materials scattered everywhere, papers of different sizes covering every flat surface he could see, an unfinished scale model perched on top of your desk, a pile of clothes on your unmade bed (indistinguishable whether clean or dirty), and a bunch of empty energy drink cans and instant ramen cups. lastly, there you were on your loveseat sofa, sleeping soundly in a fetal position because of the drawing tube and t-square at the far end of it.

beep, beep, beep.

he flinched at the sound, his gaze shifting to the phone on the coffee table as it lit up due to the alarm. power nap alarm, he knew immediately. you moved in your sleep, reaching to turn it off.

after a few moments, you sat up, stretching your arms out. MINGYU watched, he couldn’t help but smile at how adorable you looked with your messy hair. soon enough, your eyes darted in his direction.

“hi,” he whispered with a little wave.

you furrowed your brows and blinked at him. it felt like an eternity before you spoke up, “shit, i’m hallucinating.”

“uh, i’m really here, babe.”

“gyu?”

“mhm.”

“gyu!” your face lit up in recognition. standing up to make your way to him, you were quick but careful not to step on any of the clutter on the floor. “you’re really here.”

he opened his arms for you and gave you a warm hug. he rested his cheek on the top of your head as you melted into the embrace.

“why are you here?” you asked against his chest.

“for an intervention,” he joked before kissing your forehead. “i’m here to make you real food.”

judging by the state of your place, you had been living off instant ramen, any caffeinated drink you could find, and whatever was on sale in the nearby convenience store. your stomach growled for some real food.

“go do your thing while i cook,” he said with a laugh.

nodding, you settled on the floor by the coffee table and grabbed a technical pen nearby. you drew some finishing touches on the plan, continuing where you left off earlier before your nap.

it took about 30 minutes, using the shuffling sounds from the kitchen as your white noise while you were laser-focused on your task at hand.

“babe, time for dinner,” he called out softly.

when you looked over, he was holding two plates of what looked like katsu curry and rice with a proud smile on his face. suddenly, you wondered: where are we gonna eat?

noticing the change in your expression, he said, “hey, it’s fine, we could just eat here.”

“eat where?” you asked, walking over to him. even the small island in the kitchen was full of papers, you didn't even know which ones were important anymore; while the counter space between the single burner stove and the sink was not enough for both of you to eat comfortably.

“here.”

you raised your eyebrows at him while he placed both plates on the counter. then, he went toward the round dining table and retrieved two placemats from underneath a different set of papers.

“let’s eat here,” he said, placing the placemats on the floor, “like a picnic.”

frozen in place, you stood in front of him, still confused.

“don’t worry, i mopped earlier while i was waiting for this to simmer.” he took the plates again and motioned for you to sit. “we have picnics on the grass at the park and on the sand at the beach all the time, what difference does your kitchen floor make?”

with nothing to counter his argument, you obliged. you sat down cross-legged and used the counter behind you as a backrest. MINGYU followed suit, placing your respective plates on the placemats in front of you.

“are you sure you have time for this?”

“for sharing a meal with you? always.” he wrapped his arm around your shoulder to place a kiss on your temple. “besides, i've already finished all my exams earlier.”

you raised your eyebrows, thinking about the days; it was just last week when you shared schedules with each other to stay informed in case the workload made it hard to give updates.

“i’m sorry, i forgot your schedule,” you sighed in defeat. your eyes misty as you turned to face him, a pang of guilt starting to consume you. “you had mine memorized, but i couldn’t even recall yours.”

“hey, it's okay, i understand.”

“but still…”

“but still—nothing.” he shook his head to assure you, “we’re not here to keep score, baby. we're here to take care of each other. now, let’s eat, hm?”

as you took the first bite, warmth radiated through your body. sure, the food was good, but it was MINGYU’s steadfast presence that calmed your storms. the onslaught of deadlines and exams was eased by his unwavering love and care.

in the dim light of the kitchen, amidst the scattered papers and unfinished projects, you felt a profound sense of peace. not because he made the cyclone disappear, but because he was there to weather it with you.

author's note: just a little something bc i'm so soft for mingyu's acts of service and bc i missed writing here :(

svt masterlist | navigation ── reblogs and feedbacks are highly appreciated !

© 2024 PEARLESSCENTT. please do not steal my works.

[screeching-bunny]

Yandere! Supernatural Harem

Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Yandere Thoughts, Bad Writing, Stalking, Possessive Behavior, Reader is Referred as ‘You’

A/N: This idea was inspired by a Reddit prompt.

Ever since you were little, you’ve always attracted unwanted attention from supernatural creatures. You were like a magnet, a special enigma that only certain entities were aware of. Werewolves would try to take you to their dens, sirens would always try to lull you towards the sea with their voices, fairies would try to guide you to their forbidden forests. The list could go on and on.

Mythological creatures thought to be made up scary bedtime stories would always line up outside your door. It didn’t matter how old you were. Childhood memories consisted of these monsters trying to kidnap and force an adoption upon you. Teenage/adult years consisted of marriage proposals and courtship. No matter where you were, there was always a stalker up your trail following you.

Having friends was basically impossible. Every interaction you’ve had with another person has always ended up badly for them. Whether they be mutilated beyond recognition or become a seeping liquid you knew better then to go out and make friends. Thankfully, you’re family was never harmed by this ordeal and you moved as far away from them as possible to keep them safe.

Currently, you have a dilemma on your hands and right now it’s because of a certain Naga.

“Do you like my skin?” He asked in a tense voice. As he stands before you with his long serpent tail wagging through the air like a dog.

“It’s very pretty” You knew better than this. You felt like an absolute fool for picking up his shedded skin. Honestly, you should have just ignore it and went on with your day as if nothing was there.

“I’m so happy you think that way. If you like it that much let’s get married and I can give you as much as your pretty little heart desires. I’m so happy I decided to approach you. It took me months of prepping and working my skin to make sure that it shined brightly when it came off”

“It’s happening again,” you thought. Interactions like this happen on a daily basis. It would be strange not to see one marriage proposal a day from these guys. No matter what you did or how much you changed your appearance, these guys would always come back with eyes filled with love. Everyone of those supernatural creatures had their own unique version of courting and expressing their love.

“I’m sorry, I just don’t think I’m ready for marriage”

“You don’t have to be, as long as you come back with me I’ll make sure to treat you right and absolutely worship you. Being in your presence and being the only thing to brace your eyes is enough for me.

“I need some time to think about this, my emotions are still unclear”

“I understand this concern of yours and shall agree to give some time to ponder about this. However, I shall be coming back within a month's time and if you are still unsure I will take you back with me whether you like it or not” The naga states as slithers out of your yard and back into the forest.

The day just started and you were already exhausted. It honestly did not matter if he came back or not because, as said before, at least one supernatural creature was at your side. When he comes back, there would most likely be a bloodthirsty fight between two entities and you were sure as hell not going to get in the way by stopping the fight.

Well, there’s no use in moping around might as well just go back inside to make dinner for yourself. Walking towards your kitchen you go to pick up some food but before you could everything in your house was being knocked over.

“Seriously, again?!” You were honestly getting so sick of this. Your ghost admirer seemed to have barged into your home and was making a mess of it.

“If you’re going to stay here you might as well help me cook dinner” Honestly, the audacity of this man has you appalled. Out of all your obsessive admirers, the ghosts were definitely the most annoying. Every single day they always barge into your home and there’s nothing you can do about it because they can quite literally go through your walls.

“I’ll do it but only if you call me husband” he says lovingly as he starts to make his form appear visible to your eyes.

“Please, husband” And just like that, ingredients start to fly through the air. Hey, I mean who are you to deny free labor. If they're always going to make an appearance in your life might as well just make them useful.

After dinner, you decided to take a long needed bubble bath. Sometimes you wonder what life would be like if you were just a normal and average person. It didn’t really even matter anyways, it’s not like those wishes would ever become a reality.

Moving your way out of the bathroom you start to make your way to bed. As you lay there your eyes begin to droop and sleep begin to succumb to you.

It would have been a peaceful scene had it not been for the vampire staring at you through your window…

Pt.2

[historiawon]

WHILE THE IRON IS HOT

You, Rafayel's bodyguard, ask if you can commission him to sketch your next tattoo.

Based on this post. Can also be found on AO3 :)

Tags: gender neutral reader, getting closer (professionally as well as casually), reader is NOT an artist, rafayel is NOT a numbers guy, bickering, close proximity, lots of eye contact

Kindly read under the cut!

They say, ‘Strike when the iron is hot.’

The mantra repeats excessively in your mind as you watch over Rafayel, the person who employed you as his bodyguard. Because the current chances of Wanderers attacking the Mo Art Studio is low (never zero), you give your mind permission to wander. A little. Just a little.

Your mind wanders as far as a few weeks ago: the request at the tip of your tongue. That will later be inked to your skin.

As they say, ‘Strike while the iron is hot.’ You’re standing a few feet away from a brilliant artist. This is your chance.

You cough. “Excuse me.”  

“I have a name,” Rafayel says, as he brushes past you to rummage through his box of tools. He takes out a scraper.

“Right. Rafayel?”  

“What’s up?” He returns to his stool.

“I have a question, and please indulge me: what do you think about doing commissions?”

“Commissions?” Rafayel repeats, as he scrapes the dried pigment off the canvas. “Like, other people paying me to paint for them?”

“Yes.” 

Rafayel raises an eyebrow at you for a split-second before returning his attention back on the painting. He calculates a precise location before scraping again. “In your dreams. I don’t paint for anyone. I don’t even speed up my painting process for Thomas, even if he asked.”

“Even if it will earn you extra income?”

“And extra work! I already work hard enough to finish original pieces as they are.”

You nod and remember the instances of him submitting a painting late. “True. I suppose that your original works already earn enough to support you. . . and Thomas, ‘cause you pay him,” and me, as your bodyguard, you add as an afterthought. Wait, does he even pay me?

(You make a mental note to clarify that later; you have a more pressing concern right now.)

Slowly, Rafayel puts down his scraper and turns towards you. “You want me to paint something for you, is that it?”

“Hm.” You try to be vague. “No, I was just curious.”

“No, you’re not ‘just curious.’ There’s a follow-up question to it; I know.”

Silence hangs in the air as the two of you exchange a prolonged and loaded eye contact. Your breath hitches at the full attention. His pupils glance at your throat before looking back at your eyes.

Y/N, I know, his gaze seems to say.

Your steady look asks: You know?

With a nod, Rafayel’s expectant gaze answers, Try me.

We’re going off topic, Rafayel.  

“Ha! You blinked first!” He exclaims in victory then raises a hand as if to stop you from opening your mouth. “Yes, Y/N, I know a staring contest wasn’t what we were doing. But I know you have a follow-up question.”

“I do, but I was planning to take this slow. I know we have…” you gesture to the space between the two of you, “professional boundaries. I’m not in the position to ask for commission requests yet. It’s not even open.”

“So considerate,” Rafayel teases, but his gaze on you softens. “That’s cute.”

“Still, right?”

His ears flush pink, like he can’t believe what just happened. In a snap, he changes back to his usual self and touches his ear. “Just shoot your shot. Time will pass whether you ask me now or later.”

“My follow-up question was about if I can avail your services for an art commission. You can just draw; no colors. I’ll pay. What’s your price?”

“Assuring me straight up that you’ll pay? I like that in a customer!”

“We’re going off topic, Rafayel.”  

“Hey! What’s with the accusatory tone?” He says as he rubs his ears. The pink turns to red. “You’re no different. You went on a roundabout way just to ask me for a piece! You can just say,” he straightens his posture—highly reminiscent of your current posture that was earned from your job as a hunter—and imitates your tone, “‘Hey, Raf, can you make this for me? I’ll pay!’ Simple. Done.”

You break character and scoff. He chuckles at your reaction.

“Yes, but that was more of an opening rather than ‘off-topic.’ I’d rather know if you accept commissions or not before I ask you.”

“Why?”

“It’s polite.”

You bite back a grin when he makes a face. He apparently notices the way you hold back a smile—he glances at your mouth once and his ears turn red. Again. Redder than that dried pigment he’s been scraping off. “Whatever. I can be polite.”

“I’m not saying you aren’t.”

“It was implied,” he whined.

You adjust your expression back to a more neutral and respectful one to stay on track of the topic.

“So, how much will a sketch cost?”

“Hmm,” he looks at the ceiling and puts a finger under his jaw, which stains his skin with color. He seems too used to it to bother reacting. “Given that I’ve earned my spot in the industry, it would be, I don’t know. . . a lot?”

“Right. Do you have an exact amount?”

“Oh, cutie, I gotta be honest with you…” Eyes on the canvas, Rafayel scrunches his face with some hard-to-decipher smile. He picks up his scraper and scrapes off a small piece of dried pigment in the corner of the piece. A huge chunk of dried powder falls out. Yikes. “I don’t really know much about the numbers aspect. Will you bother Thomas with a hypothetical question? Don’t tell him I’m considering to give you a commission! I don’t wanna deal with his lectures.”

You make a mental note.

“Sure. I will do that. Do you want me to pay you directly? Since I imagine the price will be a lot, I can pay you in installments, if you accept.”

“Wow,” he drawls, tone impressed, “You thought this through.”

“Mm. I’m serious about this.”

Rafayel’s adam’s apple moves as he fixes his gaze at the canvas with intensity. “I’ll decide depending on the drawing. What do you want me to sketch?”

You imagine your budget, yet again. “Depends on the price.”

“Y/N,” he drawls. “We’re going in circles! Off-topic!”

“I was hoping you would sketch a tattoo for me.”

At that, Rafayel whips his head towards you so fast. The crack of his neck is loud enough for you to feel bad.

“What?” He asks, voice hoarse.

“Is your neck OK—”

“For—forget my neck. Off-topic,” he repeats, with his eyes almost teary on you. “Repeat what you said.”

“A tattoo. Just a small one. Under my ear.” At his stunned silence, you continue, “Well, it’s not every day that I can talk to a talented artist. I’m taking my chances and I’ll pay you, I promise. If I’m unable to pay it in full, then you can take money off my sala—”

“You—you want me to draw a tattoo?”

“Yes. For me.”

“I’ll draw it? Are you sure?” he almost chokes on his words.

“Yes, it would be an honor.”

“’An honor’—oh my god. No, it would be an honor to me. Not to you, to me.” Rafayel fans himself with his collar. “Wha—what—what kind of tattoo?”

“I was thinking of a sunset.” You feel a little unprepared at Rafayel’s reaction. His eyes are wide and mouth agape. No amount of spotlight could top the nerve-wracking feeling of someone’s full attention on you. “Like… I don’t know how that would look good, but… preferably, uh, you know those sketches that are made in a continuous line? Like that?”

“Yes.”

“Yes,” you repeat. “Does that look good? Any professional, artistic opinion?”

“Whatever you want,” his voice cracks again. You wince. “It’s a tattoo, silly. It’s supposed to be personal.”

“The mere subject is personal. I don’t mind much about the artistic style it takes to get inked on me, as long as it fits the way I look.”

“On your neck, huh…” he mutters. “I’ll help. Let’s make it perfect.”

A pause. Rafayel stands up from his stool and tears off a piece of paper from a sketchbook. “Uh, you might want to sketch what was in your mind. Then I will modify it, if you’re unsatisfied with what you made.”

“I just said I don’t mind ab—”

“A tattoo is personal. You should draw and I’ll check.”

You wave your hands away from the paper. “Ah, no! I already tried. I’m bad at drawing. That is why I need your help.”

Rafayel avoids your gaze and leaves the paper on the stool. “OK, um, I’ll be back. Let me wash my hands first—”

“You don’t have to do it now—” you say, but the man is already brushing past you to wash his pigment-stained hands (and face). He belatedly locks the bathroom door behind him, and you can hear muffled screams from where you are standing.

What’s up with him? You wonder. Is this what happens when you strike a hot iron? You didn’t think you would go this far.

_

Rafayel returns as if you didn’t hear his muffled screaming. “Who’s gonna do your tattoo?”

“I found a tattoo shop at Linkon city. They said we’re allowed to bring designs of our own.”

He shifts his weight onto one foot and crosses his arms. “And you think they can imitate my genius?”

“I hope they can,” you indulge him a compliment. His ears flush pink—you can see it with the short distance between the two of you.

“How much is it?” You ask again. “Hey, does asking for your opinion have a price?”

“Geez. Why do you keep asking me about money and prices? I literally said I’m not a numbers guy. Don’t go back to the circle, Y/N.” He widens his eyes at you.

“I don’t know; you might be similar to a legal counselor. Don’t they charge clients per session?”

“We’re going off-topic, Y/N,” he says in exasperation. “I don’t know about other artists, but I’m not charging you for asking. Actually, you know what? Pay me with a favor instead. Don’t ask Thomas about a price! You’re commissioning me with a favor!”

The mental note in your head falls down like a ripped-out post-it. “Oh, OK! Thanks?”

“And no, my opinion is for free. You might never ask me for it again if I said it costs something.”

You shrug. “Possibly.”

“So let’s—” Rafayel looks around the room. “Sit down. Your legs must ache from standing all afternoon.”

You sit down on the couch he gestures to. It’s a little relieving on the leg area. Meanwhile, Rafayel tugs his collar with a nervous swallow as he sits next to you. In his hands are two pencils and an eraser shaped like an octopus.

“So, sunset?” He asks awkwardly.

You look at his eyes and smile. “Yes. Sunset.”

“OK. Sunset.”

“Uh-huh. Sunset. Should I get the paper you ripped earlier? And the sketchbook so it can be on top of something?” You say with hands already outstretched.

“So chivalrous,” he teases, but the frown on his face makes the teasing come off as awkward. You playfully scoff to avoid embarrassing him. “Yes. Please start.”

With the paper and sketchbook on your lap, you draw the first line.

The second. The third.

Then regret it.

“Yikes.”

“Hm?”

When you look at Rafayel, he no longer looks flustered. Replacing his awkward eyes is an intense, focused gaze. You instinctively cover the “drawing” with your palm, but Rafayel’s warm fingers pulls it back.

“This will be my tattoo.” You try to avoid feeling awkward.

He studies the drawing for a few beats. Then intently at your neck.

“Press your ear like this. I want to see the space where this will go.”

Awkwardly, you turn your head and press your ear forward to fold it.

“Is it this ear?”

“Yes.”

“Portrait?”

“Yes, portrait. I want it to be visible.”

You hold the pose for a few more seconds. Rafayel’s silence is making you feel more and more flustered. He exhales, mind in mid-thought.

“What do you think? As an artist?”

“I won’t answer that,” he says earnestly, “but do you want me to change it?”

“Please,” you whisper. “I mean, that’s what the entire conversation earlier was about, anyway. A talented artist to draw my tattoo. Hopefully.”

“I’ll make a few suggestions.”

Rafayel does not take the paper on the sketchbook away from your lap. Instead, he uses the second pencil and draws on it.

This is weird.

The warmness that radiates from him—from his close proximity with you—feels quite comforting. You suddenly remember the mattress of the bed when you used to live with Grandma. It just… it felt nice. You feel your upper body lose its tension.

Plus, you can see the violet strands of his hair up close. It’s a pretty color. Maybe violet will be your favorite color, from now on.

“Here, check this out—”

You snap out of your thoughts, but you do not make it obvious.

Rafayel created two sample tattoos, following at least two of the three lines you drew. It seems like the base for his modification drawings.

“What do you think?”

Your heart starts thumping in your chest like a lion in its cage. There’s a… there’s a rush of excitement in your stomach and in your throat. This is pretty. This is genius. Rafayel is able to turn something amateur into something great and you can’t help but be amazed. “That’s infinitely better, wow!”

“Are you sure? We can do better than that. I mean, this one’s stroke is out of line…”

“Sure, but these are pretty as they are! I must owe you a huge favor for this ‘commission,’ right?”

Something changes in Rafayel’s eyes. He looks a little sheepish. “Actually.”

“Yes?”

“I know what favor to ask of you now.”

“Tell me. Strike while the iron’s hot,” strike while we’re on the topic!

“How open are you to having me as your tattoo artist?”

[solxamber]

At first, I like and support the most of your work. It's well written and in a style I like. But of course, I have a little request. Diasomnia, 4, Fluff (Comedy)

You can pick on your own, if it has to be Fluff or Comedy. I am fine with the both of them.

thank you so much!

You: 1, Gargoyles: 0 || Malleus Draconia

For the Holiday Event! || Prompt: "I'm NOT jealous" ; Genre: Comedy

You loved Malleus. Truly. But there was only so much gargoyle trivia a person could endure before losing their mind.

Currently, he was waxing poetic about the symmetry of a gargoyle he'd seen in the Valley of Thorns, his eyes sparkling like he was confessing his first love.

“…and the way its wings curve? Utterly sublime. A craftsmanship that transcends time. Wouldn’t you agree?”

So then, in a fit of mischief, you said it. The words that would send your entire week spiraling into chaos:

“Sometimes I think you love gargoyles more than me.”

Silence.

The air grew thick. The moon dimmed. Somewhere, Sebek probably sneezed dramatically in the distance.

Malleus turned to you slowly, his expression one of deep betrayal. “What did you just say?”

“It’s a joke, Malleus,” you said, already regretting everything.

But he ignored you, his brows furrowing in the way that meant your next week was about to get very strange. “You think I love gargoyles more than you?”

“I don’t! That’s why it’s a joke!” you said quickly, waving your hands for emphasis.

But he wasn’t listening. Oh no, the great Prince of the Briar Valley had entered “dramatic spiral” mode.

“This cannot stand,” he said, already pacing like he was strategizing for war. “You must understand the depth of my affection. Gargoyles are… significant, yes. But you… you are far more important.”

“That’s nice, Malleus, but—”

“No! You must be convinced.”

The next morning, you woke up to chaos. Your dorm was… infested.

Stone gargoyles. Everywhere.

On your desk. Perched on your windowsill. One was even sitting in your chair, looking smug.

“MALLEUS!” you screeched, running out into the hallway only to find him waiting there, arms crossed, looking far too pleased with himself.

“Do you see?” he said, gesturing proudly at the invasion. “I have brought my gargoyle collection to you. I share my deepest loves only with those who matter most. Surely now you understand your place in my heart.”

You pointed wildly at the stone monstrosities. “HOW DOES THIS PROVE ANYTHING?!”

Malleus blinked, tilting his head. “You said I love gargoyles more than you, so I have shared them with you. This is logical."

“This is UNHINGED.”

“And yet,” he countered smoothly, “you are still more radiant than they.”

You were so stunned by his sincerity that you almost forgot you were still yelling. Almost.

It got worse.

Malleus started comparing you to gargoyles.

“Your posture rivals that of the Archguard Protector in Thornmere Castle,” he mused as you sat at lunch.

“I don’t even know what that means!”

“And your smile,” he continued dreamily, “could put the Stone Warden’s eternal vigil to shame.”

You buried your face in your hands, debating your life choices.

The next day, you walked into Ramshackle dorm only to find your living room covered in… gargoyle carvings?

“Malleus, what—”

“These,” he announced grandly, stepping forward with a flourish, “are gifts. I carved them myself to show you how much I cherish you. Each one represents a moment that I value in our time together.”

You stared at the gargoyle army invading your living space, unsure whether to laugh, cry, or faint. “You realize this still doesn’t actually prove anything, right?”

He frowned. “But you said—”

“I was joking!”

Malleus tilted his head, confused. “So… you are not jealous of the gargoyles?”

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “No, I’m not jealous of the gargoyles! I was making a joke!”

His eyes narrowed slightly, as if he wasn’t entirely convinced. “You seemed very sincere.”

“I wasn’t!”

“But you—”

“I wasn’t!”

Malleus sighed, looking truly distressed. “Then how am I to express my feelings for you if not through grand gestures? Do you not like the gargoyles I made?”

Your heart softened at his genuine concern, but you couldn’t let this go on. “Malleus, I don’t need you to prove anything. I know you like me. You could have just said so.”

“But actions speak louder than words,” he replied solemnly.

You burst out laughing, and Malleus looked at you as if you’d grown a second head.

“You are losing your mind,” he muttered, crossing his arms.

“Oh, I’m the one losing my mind?” you said through giggles.

Malleus nodded. “Clearly. Perhaps you have spent too much time with Lilia.”

That only made you laugh harder, and eventually, Malleus joined in, though he still looked confused about what, exactly, was so funny.

In the end, you kept one of the gargoyle carvings—the smallest one—as a memento. The rest? They mysteriously vanished overnight. You didn’t ask questions.

But the next time Malleus started talking about gargoyles, you kept your jokes to yourself.

Masterlist

[lurkingshan]

Japanese QL Corner

Another week chock full of Japanese ql. I am officially dropping a currently airing show from QL Corner--let us never speak of it again. Of the other six shows still airing now, five are streaming weekly on Gaga and the other is available via fansub.

Takara's Treasure

This is quickly becoming one of my favorite things airing—it gets better every week, and it's been good from the start! This story is a great example of the way tension and depth of feeling in a great romance can build. I was delighted to have Takara confirm Taishin's confession and coax him into dating this early on because it means we are going to actually spend some time with them figuring out how to work as a couple. And I don't expect it will be smooth sailing, because these two have some incompatible issues that are going to exacerbate each other.

Cosmetic Playlover

This show is gorgeous, but it all feels pretty empty. Thank you to @usertoxicyaoi for confirming that the show is racing through the plot so it can cover the whole arc of the manga. I'm glad to understand why it's doing this, but it doesn't help with my total emotional disconnect from the story, because the show is rushing through and not letting us actually experience this relationship. They tell us they like each other, then that they're in love, then that they're established and struggling, but I can't feel it because they haven't brought us along for any of that. This week featured an interesting plot about their professional growth and how it challenges their relationship, but I was frustrated because I have no investment in said relationship to give the plot stakes. I may just have to accept that this one will stay a treat for the eyes but lacking in depth for me.

I Hear the Sunspot

We back! After a bit of a miscalibrated installment last week, this episode felt more characteristic and we finally got our boys back on track. Maya was less egregiously mean to people this week and her interference was treated as more comedic than sinister, which is a much better fit for the tone of this show. And once Kohei got around her, he finally talked properly with Taichi and asked him to stay on as his notetaker, reaffirming their friendship in the process. Despite Maya's efforts to convince him otherwise, Kohei has not wavered and his firm declaration that he doesn't want anyone but Taichi taking his notes or eating his food had me gasping. For his part, Taichi is getting better at keeping his cool and finding words when Kohei lets his feelings slip, and he's clearly thinking a lot about his own feelings and whether their connection is really about friendship.

Ayaka is in Love with Hiroko

Oh man, this show has really gotten itself into a muddle. We finally got a kiss, but it hardly felt like a triumph. This episode was a bit of a return to form, with Ayaka back to her relentless pursuit of Hiroko, but the way the story diverged to change the conflict midstream has mucked it all up. For the first half the conflict was about Hiroko believing Ayaka is straight, and then suddenly it was about a different work-related closet trauma that did not connect to that. Now it’s touching on both but in a way that makes Hiroko seem inconsistent, because now that she knows Ayaka is a lesbian it doesn't track that she would continue to patronize and dismiss her, and it also sucks that Ayaka is harassing Hiroko at work despite knowing she doesn't want to be out. It feels like the story is invalidating Hiroko’s fears about being out in a way we know is not consistent with reality. This would all work better if the backstory had been about Hiroko falling for a woman who succumbed to comphet and we kept up the misunderstanding and comedy about Ayaka being straight. As it is, I feel like our heroine no longer makes sense and our couple still hasn't formed a real connection, and with only one episode to go it’s unlikely they’ll land the plane.

Mr. Mitsuya's Planned Feeding

I just love everything about this show and its mature perspective on relationships. In the aftermath of Ishida's hasty confession (and his attempt to walk it back, which I love that Mitsuya did not fall for), we take a beat for Mitsuya to consider the two men circling him and what he wants from his life. I loved that he took the time he needed to process and end his relationship with Noguchi on his own terms this time, and to consider whether he has the desire and the energy to try again with someone new. When he said he has his home and his work and his Frito and that's enough for him, I felt that. But Ishida has already gotten to him, and as Shige wisely pointed out, Mitsuya must care about him quite a bit to be considering this deeply before making a move. I'm not sure he's ready to dive in, but he doesn't have much will to fight it, either. You can go here for the files to watch this episode, with big thanks to @isaksbestpillow and @nicks-den.

Tagging @bengiyo to add this week's anime update.

[thebluester2020]

[SDV] Kinktober Day 8: "Sthenolagnia"

Summary: You've always had a not-so-well-hidden thing for men with muscles. So, it was only to be expected that you would develop a crush on Alex!

Warning(s): Reader is a picky lady in this one, Dub-con(?), Alex is kinda mean in this one, Fingering, Muscle Worship kinda(More so that the reader just really likes men with muscles and her dreams come true tbh)

Side Note(s): quick note: sthenolagnia just equals "muscle worship". when i first heard of it, it sounded way dirtier than what it actually is.

Also second side-note, instead of Anthon from ZZZ. I'm gonna switch it up to Alex from SDV because— idk, I thought it would fit him more lol.

You've always been into a certain type of body type when it came down to your men.

Tall and handsome? That was a given and easy to find on a good day, but...what really got you going? A man that was fit and hunky, broad-shouldered, and with arms strong enough to crush a melon between his bicep and forearm. And with such a specific type of interest, your numbers in the dating pool reduced significantly. You thought you'd be able to ignore it, and date men who were outside of your picky selection box but...it was so hard!

As someone who preferred to be tossed around.

You couldn't stand the thought of a man with arms as thin as a pencil being able to do that to you!

You had just about given up until your grandfather recommended you to move to Stardew Valley on account of a letter you had finally gotten around to reading a few years after his sudden passing. When you packed your bags and got on the first bus there, you weren't expecting much really. A farming town? Old people and families, at most. You weren't expecting there to be people your age and you were fine with that!

You tried to focus your mind on doing good by your grandfather.

At least...until your plans were derailed a little.

When you saw him. The only gridball player in the entire town, tall and handsome, with sun-kissed skin and a pair of green eyes you found yourself getting caught up in every time you spotted him in town! But your favorite part about the stranger? (Who you soon came to figure out was named 'Alex') It was his muscles.

You were hooked on having a taste, just a small one! Nothing too major, after being stuck with such poor pickings in Zuzu city for the last few years, you were a tad bit desperate to fulfill your fantasies!

Luckily, however, Alex was eager to fulfill his own fantasies, especially with the cute new farmer who kept eyeing him like a piece of meat every time you two happened to be in the same vicinity.

. . .

Alex currently sat behind you on the bare wooden floor, your back arched against his chest as he hooked his legs over your won, forcing them to stay open as he used a hand to piston his thick fingers in and out of your pussy whilst he used his free arm to keep you in a headlock. You whined pathetically as loud squelches echoed throughout your small farmhouse, your slick spitting out of your cunt dirtily.

Alex tightened his lock around your head, the tight feeling of his muscles making you dizzy as fat tears began to dot your eyeline. "Stop squirmin' farm girl," Alex hissed against your ear. "You can definitely take it, can't you?" He continued mockingly all before it was followed by a harsh slap against your pussy. A yelp left your lips, Alex laughing at your whines as he strained he looked over your shoulder to admire his work of making the newest addition to the town into his own personal slut.

He slapped your pussy again, enjoying your cries before he suddenly yanked his fingers out from your wetness and shoving them back in, continuing his unforgiving pace. "A-Alex!" You keened. "T-Too...t-too much!" Your body shook and jerked in Alex's hold, your nails scratching fruitlessly against his forearm as your body didn't seem to know whether it wanted Alex to keep you in a headlock or if it wanted him to let you go to get more air into your lungs.

However, Alex was having none of it.

Instead, he loosened his headlock, allowing you a few seconds of air before he resumed his lock only this time...he slapped a hand around your mouth to silence your moans. He roughly pressed your head back against his shoulder, forcing you to look at him while his fingers started to curl and abuse your g-spot.

One merciless thrust after the other...

"Stupid farm girl," He said to you cruelly with a disapproving look in his eyes. "Can't you listen? I said...take it." He hissed.

Your blush behind his hand only increased as you felt his cock twitch and bounce in its confines against your ass. Yet, Alex, he forced himself to be patient as he tried to focus on the imagination of what your pussy would feel like, clenched around his cock as desperately as it was currently on his fingers. "C'mon cute girl, squirt over my fingers and I'll loosen up on you like you're beggin' me to!" He laughed.

He soon paused his fingers momentarily, your brain foolishly beginning to convince itself that he was giving you a break until...he resumed, shoving an extra finger alongside the current two that were inside of you as all three digits honed in on your g-spot. Your whines behind his hand grew higher and higher in pitch, tears falling down your face from the sheer intensity of your pleasure as your thighs started to shake. Your whole body was beginning to shudder more and more until...a stream of liquid gushed out of your cunt.

Alex groaned at the delicious sight, licking his lips as a smirk plastered itself onto his handsome features. "Gooood girl..." He whispered against your ear, placing an appreciative kiss on your cheek, fingering your cunt, and praising you until your squirt finally died down.

Alex kissed you one last time as he pulled his fingers from your cunt. "Knew you could do it, farm girl," He smirked. His arms quickly wrapped around your torso, hugging you to his chest as you struggled to catch your breath, whining and moaning freely now that your mouth wasn't covered anymore. Shakily, your hands ran over Alex's arm appreciatively. And the whole time, your eyes trailed over the beads of sweat that beaded the skin of his forearm and bicep, like a dog eyeing its new favorite toy.

And Alex didn't even dare think of missing the way your eyes threatened to form into hearts as you looked at his muscles. "Y' like that?" He snickered as his arms tightened around you more. "You'll be getting more of 'em in a second. Next, I'll fuck you on that squeaky ass bed of yours, you can admire my arms as I fuck you in a mating press." He continued.

That was when Alex's cock twitched against your ass again, you knew good and well that you weren't a break anytime soon.

Not until you squirted around his cock that is.

[vigilskeep]

Do we know enough about how Crow succession and talonship works to believe it would be possible for Viago to take the seat of first talon either through some sort of non-violent coup in the absence of an heir to house Dellamorte or through marrying his kid (rook) off to Lucanis? Asking because I really don't know and would love to write something in that direction...and you seem a crow enthusiast...also love your blog

THEORETICALLY. yes.

we haven’t seen the talons shift directly, but they do shift, with regularity. house arainai was first talon in living memory and then fell slowly downwards to their current point where they’re struggling in and out of eight talon like a drowning man who keeps finding his way to air for just enough breath

the eight talons system, if you’ll allow me the tangent, is a really fascinating choice of fantasy hierarchy because it is such a clear hierarchy. among a bunch of ambitious killers whose prime goal is notoriety. you can only hold each position here if everyone below you is too afraid to do anything about it. what an anxiety trip it must be to decide whether to push someone down just one rung or to try to destroy them entirely; do you want to leave your rival with more opportunity or more motivation? but crow power is also all about theatre, all about perception—you are first or fifth or seventh talon primarily because everyone agrees that you are—so making a failed gambit for a higher talon has got to be incredibly damaging. which is a risky setup. it discourages attempts, but when someone does make an attempt, they will not be fucking around

anyway ignore all that we’re talking about soft takeovers today. okay so house dellamorte has a dying core family, theoretically. we’re making the assumption that no surviving young children from any branch of the family are mentioned because none exist. we have two heirs, neither very acceptable (my apologies to caterina’s delusions), both men in their 30s with (again, assumed) no children, and neither making much progress in that regard. (arguably dependent on player choice when it comes to lucanis, but since he can fall in love with and express his undying devotion to any kind of rook, we can at least say he’s not making that much effort.) within a generation the core family may die out. but that is a LONG TIME to wait. you still have to deal with the current ones, they’re pretty robust

lucanis is the current first talon as of the end of veilguard. can he be convinced to give this up and hand first talon over to someone better suited? i do believe it. mostly because i need to believe, for my mental health, that we can get him out of there. but he also now has a fairly bulky support system full of people who love him and will notice how bad this is going to be and convince him he deserves things like a life he doesn’t hate

as always your main problem is caterina. caterina is not going to allow a takeover, soft or otherwise, while she is still alive. caterina didn’t give up first talon when they murdered her children. there’s probably an emotional plot in here where she can be made to accept what she’s done to her family, far too late, but with time left to save just one by letting him go. on the other hand, i’ve also been experimenting with plots in my mind where she tries to quietly get rid of viago or romanced rook for having too much influence, with the added benefit on hopefully being able to steel & refocus lucanis on defending the house against whoever she frames. or plots where she blames lucanis trying to leave and not being the boy she remembers on his, you know, demonic possession, and attempts to forcibly remove or destroy spite. so. there’s potential ups and downs, here.

i don’t know how helpful rook de riva/lucanis is. most of your problem here is that everything that sets this ending up by giving the de rivas more power, and by giving any rook more power over lucanis, is something that in my mind would crank caterina’s wariness all the way up. house de riva surely has to move up from fifth already after the events of the game and look more like a contender, and i don’t think even caterina’s delusions about lucanis’ suitability for first talon could make her blind to the effect rook can obviously have. i definitely think she would delay on a marriage and have the power to do that

i think it’s worth saying that rook de riva at any point bringing up to lucanis the idea of handing things over to viago would be a hell of a conversation. i know lucanis never remotely suspects rook of any agenda and trusts them completely, and i know i agree with rook here, but you’ve GOT to see how “i love you and having power is bad for you and what you should do is hand it all over to my talon” sounds. i truly could not blame him for a bit of doubt here especially if caterina was around to suggest it

sorry this is a completely messy and disconnected response. i don’t even know if i had a point. you might have to wait for caterina to actually die? is that my point? i can see rook de riva/lucanis being helpful to ease a transition of power to house de riva then. i also think it’s worth pointing out that teia might be the better contender for all this out of the two lovebirds. what quietly makes teia probably the most dangerous talon in the crows, if she ever chose to be, is that everyone likes her. i’m not joking or trying to handwave crow politics, it’s a form of soft power and the result of her cultivated skill that nobody ever suspects teia of anything. even caterina treats her gently, and literally a talon who tried to murder all the others in tevinter nights was delaying murdering her because she was his favourite. if anyone can handle a gentler transition like what we’re talking about, maybe it’s more likely to be teia

[miguel-ohara-lover]

Stress

CW: Smut, little dialogue, gn!reader, no reader description so it should hopefully work for everyone(I hope)

A/N: I’m a bit rusty idk how good this’ll be-

As Miguel worked tirelessly on monitoring and protecting the multiverse, you couldn’t help but notice just how tense and stressed he constantly seemed. You felt the need to aid him, but any attempt to interrupt his work usually lead to a groan and some excuse for you to leave. Well, more like an order to leave disguised.

Your eyes drifted over his body, his tensed shoulders and back down to his legs where his large hand resting, fingers drumming against his thigh as he watched the screens. He didn’t notice your presence at the moment, he got used to tuning out anyone who would dare walk through, it was a waste of time acknowledging them from his platform. It wasn’t much of a surprise when he failed to realize you getting closer.

Currently his platform was only a foot off the floor, it was lunch time so it’s likely he had the fleeting thought to leave his office, long enough to lower the platform, before quickly deciding it wasn’t worth his time. He only noticed you once you stepped onto the platform, but he didn’t turn around to greet you just yet. Only when your hands landed on his shoulders did he bother to pay attention to a presence in the room.

You felt his muscles tense more at the touch, as if without words he was asking what you were doing. You answered despite not hearing a question.

“You’re very tense, Miguel. Taking a break would be very good for you.” You lean down, speaking softly into his ear. As he listened to your voice his shoulders relaxed slightly. He remained silent but allowed you to massage the stress away. Even if it was just for this moment, he’ll allow himself to relax.

The tension left his muscles, and soon filled the air. You two were no strangers, but it was more of a one night stand, years ago, but you always longed for that again. Your hands drifted down his back, then back up and over his shoulders.

Miguel leaned his head back, his red eyes meeting yours. Your hands stopped a moment and he made a ‘come here’ gesture with his finger. You could only guess what he meant, and after a moment of thinking whether sleeping with your boss was a good idea, you decided you don’t care. Slowly you walk around until you are in front of him.

His hands reach up to your hips, and before you could consider what he may do next, you’re swiftly pulling into his lap. The look on your face must have been one of surprise, his next move being some half-ass way of saying you started this. He didn’t seem angry, which is a surprise, but one you were grateful for.

The holographic suit dissolved bellow you, and you could suddenly feel what he had kept hidden underneath. The blush on your cheeks grew as you realized how impatient he seemed. His hands were fast to remove your clothes, just enough for your activities to come. He wanted to make this quick, his mind still busy with his work.

Your hands settled on his shoulders, fingers digging into his rough skin as he guided you onto his shaft. As hard as you try, you can’t keep the noises from escaping you. He, on the other hand, loved those noises. It was music to his ears, and such a shame he couldn’t hear it more often.

His hands gripped her waist as he moved you up and down, his strength not allowing you to move freely, ain’t was he used your hole like his own personal toy. His grip was strong and demanding, and it turned you on oh so much. Your fingers moved up and tangled in his hair as you leaned in for a sloppy kiss.

The pace quickened as the activity turned from transactional to more intimate. Perhaps he can let himself go for a bit, get lost in the warmth of your presence, the feeling of your lips on his, your tightness around his length. Yes, he could definitely get used to this.

As you bounced on his lap, the only sounds filling the air being your moans and skip hitting skin, you felt your release build up. You knew it would be soon, his size and speed ensured that. He had to be close too, his pace becoming for irregular, his breathing deeper, and perhaps a few noises left him as well.

You rocked your hips slightly and felt him buck under you as he spilled inside you, filling you up like he did all those years ago. It was still as amazing as it was then, and it was the final straw, the last push you needed to join him in sweet ecstasy. Your lips clashed in one final passionate kiss, both of you panting as you pulled away.

He let you sit in his lap as the two of you came down from your high, maybe even longer. Miguel seemed to grow fond of your presence, not making you leave as soon as he was done with you. His hand moved gently up and down your back as you rested your head on his shoulder. Yes, he could definitely get used to this…

[mynameisjag]

Quick Prompt: Wanting What Someone Else Has.

Scott finds out about the new Logan, Wade doesn't care about Scott's problems. Logan isn't even aware.

Wade stared at Scott.

Scott stared at Wade.

At least the mercenary assumed he was, kind of hard to tell, you know…with the glasses…

He’d give him a point for managing to get the drop on him though, showed up late enough not to be any help, early enough were they hadn’t left the mark's disgustingly beige mansion.

It looked better with the splashes of red everywhere.

Even the boring ass, uncomfortable lounges that they were sitting on, looked better with the splatter.

Cyclops was sitting on the less messy one, so maybe he didn’t agree or he just choose that one because then they could just sit and stare at each other face to face.

“Where’s Logan?”

“Better question, how are you alive? This better not be some multiverse MCU bullshit.”

Logan was probably eating his fill in the kitchen, the owners pervert party was catered and why leave and get underwhelming fast food when there was free rich fucks food that was going to go to waste anyway.

Lo had talked about his…hunting trips…sometimes, always on the move, always going from target to target, that at one point it was just sensible to eat what was there, rest, take what was need and move on. Considering how most of the fucks he went after were people of high importance, government jobs or just rich assholes, their was always alcohol, fancy foods, and wallets that no one noticed was gone till it was too late.

So this current hit was just another day for the feral.

Scott’s Logan was more man then his, could easily be mistaken for just another human without powers.

Wade’s though, his had lost himself to the calling of his inner animal and became it as he hunted those that had hurt his family. Body changing to its new needs, becoming the human predator he needed to be.

Logan hated it, hated what his body became, his behavior, his instincts, everything that changed, he hated it all. He spent so long trying to fit the profile others had tried to shove him into that losing himself to what was himself was a failure in his eyes. A shameful failure.

It wasn’t true of course and they were working on that, both supporting each other because they both were so fucked up but at least they were fucked up together.

Wade talked to the air and the millions of eyes that watched them, Logan would snarl and make more animal sounds then use his voice at times.

The merc highly doubted the X-men, at least this version, were going to be able to handle his Wolverine.

“There’s no dog for you to collar here, laser pointer, so why don’t you make your way back to whoever else has found the well of life in that mansion and fuck off.”

Seemed like he might have hit a nerve as that frown somehow got deeper, “I’m here for my friend.”

“You’re a good couple of states away from your Wolverine’s grave, can get you an Uber there if your that directionally challenged.”

“We know he is here, with you-“

“-Nope! Again, you have eye issues not hearing, your-hear that strain on that-your Logan is dead.” Deadpool reached forward to grab a drink he had set on the end table earlier before getting interrupted, “speaking of dead, you still haven’t answered how you’re still kicking around.”

“Your life isn’t the only one that involves time travels.”

“Oh, good, just the normal X-men bullshit then, should we be expecting the other Logan then?”

“No…he is still…gone…his body, or what we can find of it, is now resting back at the mansion…not all of us are back.”

“Oooh, I probably should have put that puzzle back together before jumping…everyone is still on the fence on whether or not old Wolves would have gotten a kick out of me playing Ninja Warrior with his tibias?”

“And what does that mean?”

“Ignore it and my little chats with the “gremlins” as Honey Bunny puts it, now, I’m going to guess you thought if you couldn’t have one, you figured you could take mine? Did Daddy Professor not drill in manners in all of that training, it’s rude to take other people’s stuff.”

“He isn’t your ‘stuff’, you don’t know how to handle him.”

At that precise moment, Logan ran past in the background, on all fours and a chunk of meat in his mouth, the merc was glad that Cyclops couldn’t follow his line of sight because of the mask. Cause all the red head had to do was slightly turn his head and he would see the man he was searching for bounding upstairs like an overly excited puppy with a new toy.

Either the man found fresh grade A steak or he had decided that some one smelled delicious and took a chuck. 50 50 chance on either option really and at least the blood was everywhere here instead of back in the apartment.

Al was less likely to complain when she didn’t slip and slide through puddles of blood.

“Handle him? Scottie too Hottie!”, at this point he lifts his mask enough to sip at the drink in his hand, grimacing at the flavor, how did they make fruit soda taste bad, “ugh, high society tastes are awful,” he wiggles the can at the other man, “want it?”

“No.”

“Don’t blame you, I can how ever blame you for thinking that for some shit reason that Lobunny, wait fuck that’s a Pokémon, Lo Bun Bun, is unable to think for himself and that I somehow can stop him from going wherever he wants to go.”

“He hasn’t came home, yet, if he was able to go-“

“That place isn’t his home, you are not his X-men, he is not a replacement, well, he is an anchor being replacement but not a ‘pick up where the last Logan left off’ replacement. So what ever regrets or amends you wanted to have, they should be aimed at the grave and not the man you wished was the one you lost,” Deadpool threw the can over the others head, before flipping over the couch he was on, landing on his feet and giving double finger guns at the X-man before the can could hit the wall, “well, good chat, but we gotta go!”

Scott was standing up now, face serious and ready to counter argue when flashing lights from outside reflected in the windows, sirens coming closer, “is that the police?”

“Yeah!,” now the mercenary was opening a window, hanging halfway out of it as he made grabby hands at something above him, “hope you got a ride,” blue colored gloves grabbed his red ones and he was yanked out and upward, “tootles!”

Scott took a deep breath, calming himself down before turning and heading toward his own escape.

He’ll try another day.

[bberetd]

Mario and Daisy Headcanons

Currently on the road to go on vacation for the next week (and then go back to uni two days later 🫠) so I decided to take some time to write up some headcanons for Mario and Daisy! They’re a lot fun to draw, and just as much to write ☺️ I was originally going to pair it with the short ‘prologue’ story I had for them, but it got too long, so I’m gonna have it separate.

@vulpixfairy1985 @kelbreyworshipper @peaches2217 @itsavee4117 @supergay-64 @megamagimugi @pinkcreamypeach @wahooitsamee @silenzahra (when you’re ready <3) @mikibaby94 and @akiiame-blog I think you guys will like these 🤭

==

Meeting Each Other

• In their first few months of knowing each other, Daisy absolutely THRIVED on getting a rise out of Mario. “It’s funny seeing tiny people mad,” her reasoning was. It was always a good day for her, but it was a GREAT day when a vein was popping out of his forehead.

◦ Of course because everything is a game to Miss Daisy 😗

• The two had a rocky start… well, more on Mario’s end; Daisy was just there for a good time. For the most part, he remained civil towards her because she was Peach’s best friend and Luigi seemed to really like her (somehow).

• Not that Mario could never handle the truth, but to him, Daisy was ALARMINGLY blunt, ESPECIALLY around him, and had energy like he’s never seen before.

• What made him uneasy about her was how she interacted with people. She’s a physically affectionate person, so she’d do little things like shoulder punches/shakes, arm around the shoulder, hand on shoulder, playful pokes, etc. this was especially the case for Luigi, adding on spontaneous hugs, sometimes in the air.

◦ Luigi had to assure Mario over and over that he wasn’t uncomfortable, but the deep shade of red on his face around her convinced him otherwise.

◦ What made Mario snap was when she took Luigi on a solo tour around Sarasaland, but unintentionally got him badly hurt (more on this here), and immediately wanted nothing to do with her, no exceptions.

◦ Despite her questionable ways of showing affection, Daisy grew to genuinely like the bros, so she was disheartened when she heard the news. She wrote several letters to explain herself to give to Peach so she could give to Mario, but he was having none of it.

◦ A month after Luigi fully healed, Mario thought that maybe he was too harsh, but he still kept his distance.

• [insert event where Luigi is in trouble and they come together and bond over how much they care about him and learn a little more about each other in the process but NOT THERE YET… but at least Mario can stand to be around her again]

• What DOES make them closer is their love for sports and hands-on activities. Daisy is more eager to get her hands dirty unlike Peach, and unlike Luigi who would be more reluctant and stand behind Mario most of the time (of course the company is always appreciated)

◦ What starts off as a mission to annoy Mario (affectionate) turns into hours of cracking jokes, banter, life vents learning more from each other (whether it was what they were doing in the moment, from life or both).

Nicknames

• Mario’s nicknames for Daisy are Testa di spina (thornhead), D, Firecracker, Sriracha Queen, Crazy Daisy (more frequently when they were just meeting), and Petals

• Daisy’s nicknames for Mario are Red, Shortie, Short stack, SuperBoy, Fire hydrant, teletubby, Mawio, Mar-maid Man, Mustachio, Cap’n Lou (ironic right? also if you know you know), and Stimpy

Misc Headcanons

When these two work together in sports, they are a FORCE. They’re both jack of all trades on the field and on the racetrack.

When competing against each other however, it’s war. No mercy, no going easy on each other, but it brings out the best in them. Just to show respect and a sign of leaving their rivalry on the field, they do a long handshake.

Mario: *breathes*

Daisy: YOU’RE SHORT

and she’ll never go a day without letting him know it, but finds a unique way to show it each day.

They’re THE best hug givers. Mario and Daisy are incredibly warm people (Mario with his firebrand and Daisy ruling in a bright and humid environment). Mario’s stocky, so he’ll completely cover you with his love and warmth (and there’s plenty of him to hug in return), while Daisy’s hugs are tight but meaningful.

When these two hug each other, uh, let’s just hope they don’t squeeze the life out of each other 😅 they’re so competitive that they even need to compare who hugs better (creds to @teegeeteegee)

[Luigi and Peach walking and talking, then spotting Mario and Daisy either hugging or choking each other]

Peach: …What are you guys doing?

Daisy, not moving her head: We’re hugging, duh.

Peach: Why? (Not used to seeing the two showing this much affection to each other)

Mario: To see which of us hug better.

[L&P share a glance]

Luigi: Do you guys wanna, you know… unhug?

Mario and Daisy, realizing how nice the hug feels: …nah.

They’re partners in crime! They love pulling pranks on the koopas, goombas and other baddies, and maybe a harmless prank or two on the Toads and citizens over in Sarasaland.

It would take a near-death experience for either of them to ever say an emotional “I love you” to each other. At least Daisy mostly; Mario is more willing to say it. Daisy would usually say it lightheartedly (ex. “love ya!” followed by a punch to the shoulder or “you too” when Mario expresses his love out of habit). But they do show their care/love for each other through actions.

Mario knows Daisy is far from a princess who needs saving, but he still can’t help but have the need to protect her when the time comes.

Oh, and if you insult or hurt Mario, you better hope Daisy isn’t standing within a ten-mile radius with a steel chair.

Daisy loves to mess up Mario’s hair beyond recognition, while Mario loves to come up behind her and poke her sides (i imagine her making the “ah!” noise if you know, if not then this at 0:35)

When they feel playful, they talk to each other in funny accents.

==

[kingtomura]

Fantasize

Summary: working in a coffee shop sucked, but watching the man of your dreams walk in makes it all a little more worth it. wc: 5.4k content: dabi x female reader, explicit content, AU - no quirks, masturbation, overstimulation, vibrator, unprotected sex, vaginal fingering, brief oral(f receiving) , nipple play, hair pulling, dabi has a tongue piercing also crossposted to AO3

It was way too crowded in here. 

The morning rush always had a way of bringing out the worst in people. Everyone was always in a hurry. They have to get to work, they have to get to school and even your coworkers fell into this notion. They have to get the orders out in a timely manner or else you’ll have an old business man three times your age staring down at you with his face twisted up into a scowl. 

You hate this job. 

The man before you stared long and hard as if you could magically make his dumb coffee – double shot espresso, two sugars, no milk– appear out of thin air. If you were in the business of magic tricks you would turn him into an inanimate shoe and go on with your day. But you’re no magician, he is not a shoe and you really hate this job.

“Order up!” A voice behind you rang, as an overzealous coworker bushed by you, hot cup of coffee in hand as she tried to smoothly hand off the drink to the irritated man. 

Whether she noticed the look of irritation on his face or not, she didn't mention it. Only smiling and waving him off so that the next group in line could order. You thanked the stars he was out of your hair, muttering a crude you should smile more under his breath before shrinking out the door. 

Yeah, turning him into a shoe would have been a good move. 

You rolled your eyes, going back to the uneventful duties of taking orders and ringing up customers. The small coffee shop you work for maintains a steady crowd, the rumble of chatter flowing through the store. You can't help but feel yourself go on autopilot. Taking orders but not really retaining faces while the smell of coffee grounds flood your nose, the sounds of the steamer and other machines going off in the background. 

It can all be overwhelming at times. But you needed this job, this was the only job with relatively flexible hours while you finished school. 

“We need a refill on cups!” 

That was your cue to drag your feet away from the register and search for more cups for the never satiated customers. Mind drifting back to your current situation. Today was Wednesday, you had a project due on Friday, and you haven't done a lick of it. Couldn’t be bothered. 

Grabbing the cups, you squeeze by two more employees, one manning the drive through and the other frothing milk for a drink. Everyone was too close to one another. This place should be bigger. You sigh, setting the cups up in a pretty, neat line like your manager coaches you to do, and hear the chime of the door bell. 

You could have sworn the time seemed to slow as the sticky sweet greeting from one of your coworkers fell on deaf ears. Ambient chatter of the room ceased and the shrill noises of the machines died out as you watched a boy with white hair and vibrant tattoos step into the store. You've never seen this face before, blue eyes bored and posture giving signs that he would rather be anywhere but here. 

He was cute, he was indifferent and he was walking right towards you.

Holy shit.

It was in that moment you remembered that you had a job to do. A job you were paid to do, and staring at potential customers could be considered weird. It takes a second, but you regain composure and remember the dry utterance of the man before. Smile more. Right. So you do and you pray it doesn't look as forced as it feels. “Hello, what can I get for you today?” 

Your rehearsed question is met with the same indifference as the man simply stared down at you. 

At this point you began to wonder if there had been something stuck in your teeth that everyone knew about but you, because the staring today was starting to get ridiculous. But just as your world brightened, it came crashing down. Another younger customer came crashing into your store and nearly crashing into the boy before you. 

“Dabi! I told you to wait for me.” The girl whined, blonde hair with two buns in disarray as she caught her breath. Even though she looked like she would heave over she still had a smile on her face. It was pretty, bright, and a little creepy. 

The man in question only shrugged, apathetic tone giving no indication of care. “Not my fault you fell behind.” 

“Whatever! “ she huffed, turning to you with her grin too wide and eyes alight. 

Judging from his indifference of the impact, you take it they know each other. Or worse. You feel your heart drop to the floor, and sweaty palms now grow cold. She wasted no time bouncing up to the counter, order prepped and ready on her tongue. She was cute, in an off putting way, you couldn’t lie. But the way your heart fluttered and broke in the span of a second gave you whiplash. 

“I would like one cookie butter latte with cinnamon and whipped cream!” she looked to Dabi, “do you want anything?” 

“No.”

She turns back to you, “Make that two please!”

If it hadn’t been for the mini argument they had over how to pay (“I’m going to use the company card Tomura gave us! That's what its for.”) you would have wondered just how this duo came to know each other. Coworkers. Of course. You quickly rang up their order and pretended to busy yourself with wiping the counters in hopes of getting a little more information about the man of your dreams. 

Okay, maybe that's a little delusional, but what is delusion if not optimism. 

With your amateur spy skills you have deduced that they are not dating. The girl is actually begging to be introduced to his little brother, so that his little brother could introduce her to his best friend. Wild and bold of her, but you couldn’t judge. And since they are not dating you conclude that it is perfectly fine to marry this man in your head. 

And just like that, their orders are up. You hand them their drinks, looking a little too long at Dabi while they begin to make their way to the door. But not before the girl, Himiko, sends you a knowing look with a smirk that makes your blood run cold. She was observant. 

Your blood only ran colder when she leaned towards Dabi, whispering words to him that made him turn back to you for half a second, eyes locking with yours, before leaving. The bell on the door rang in your ears as your heart dropped to your feet.

You really hated this job.

—------ 

That night was your only solace for peace. You found yourself looking for any and every reason to stay busy, mortification still flowing through your veins. It shouldn’t be such a big deal, it’s not like Dabi could read minds. You would probably never see him again after today so that’s also a plus. 

None of your reasonings calmed you down as you paced, spending most of your time overthinking an irrelevant situation. 

Eventually, you began buzzing around your small apartment, cleaning things that were already spotless and dusting invisible dust bunnies away. At one point you even took it upon yourself to start and finish the project you had been dreading. Anything to take your mind off of today. 

How you let such a small situation take over your mind is beyond you.

But then it clicked. 

You would never see him again (probably), and he’s not a mind reader (hopefully), so you are free to do whatever you want in your own head. This resolution is the only one that quells you. It's freeing. So freeing in fact, that you decide to relax. Fully relax and enjoy the quiet of your apartment.

It was cramped and a little outdated, but it was yours. 

Your bed welcomed you as you crashed into it, worries and problems melting away between the soft sheets.

The night was still, stars glimmering through your window and you couldn't help but let your mind wander to the boy from before. Dabi. What an odd name. He was kind of an odd guy, tattoos all over and piercings shining. Inviting. You slid your hand under your shirt, imagining it belonged to the mystery boy instead. 

How would it feel, if it were him caressing your breasts and tweaking your nipples. What kind of touches would he prefer? You slip your other hand into your panties as you imagine it were dabi’s bigger, rough hands teasing your clit. A gasp escapes you as the sensation warms your body.

You thought of his facial piercings and wondered if there was shining silver on his tongue or if that had been a figment of your imagination. Slick coated your finger and you rubbed lazy circles onto your sensitive nub. 

There was so much about him you wanted to know. Was dabi even his real name? What kind of company did he work for? Certainly nowhere uptight given his bright tattoos and piercings. You wonder what noises he would make as you slip a finger into your entrance. His fingers would probably fill you up, the idea of it making you moan. 

“Fuck this,” you breathe, tired of teasing yourself. You reach over to your nightstand, opening the drawer and pulling out the black bullet vibrator. It was your favorite, one that always got the job done. Wasting no time, you clicked the power button, keeping it on the lowest setting first. Not wanting to cum too quickly.

Your thoughts drifted back to dabi, the sound of his voice playing in your head. It was rough, and indifferent, cold and carefree with a monotone ring. The vibrator buzzed in the silence of the room as you placed it on your clit, the new sensation making your breath hitch. It wouldn’t take much more to push you over.

The vibrator hummed louder as you turned it up a notch, slick coating it. 

You thought of his dark clothes, the way his shirt hugged his chest in all the right ways, the chain-link bracelet on his wrist complemented the rings that donned his fingers. He was stylish and the look suited him well. Your end was nearing and your toes curled as you bit your lip to hold back another moan. 

Being home alone in your own apartment did mean you were shameless. 

Pressing it against yourself harder makes you toss your head to the side, eyes squeezing shut in pleasure. It was unbearable how close you were. The vibrations spread throughout your body, setting your nerves on fire. You turn it up one more notch as you writhe in bed. 

Your body felt like you were on a rollercoaster, in the moment right before it drops from its massive height. Anticipation sends your adrenaline spiking as you wait for the inevitable fall. 

The drop was near and in that moment, the flash of dabi’s blue eyes meeting yours, knowing and sharp, sent you crashing over. The roller coaster cart racing down and heart soaring with the wind of the ride blowing past your ears. You can't hold back the cry as your body trembles as you come undone. Thighs quivering with the force of your orgasm. It was euphoric, one of your best in a while and the aftershocks running through you had been proof of that.  

You sigh, reeling from the feeling and put your vibrator away. 

You’ve gotten it out of your system and now your life can go back to being boring and mundane forever. As long as you never have to face him again. The odds of a guy like him coming back to your silly little cafe while you were there were slim to none. The thought brought a lazy smile to your face. 

You were stressed over nothing.

—-----

Someone above was playing tricks on you. Lowdown, dirty tricks and if you didn’t know any better you would think you had been cursed.

Dabi is there, in front of you, bright and early with a younger boy in tow. The latter looking over the menu as you force that fake fucking smile on your face and wait patiently for them to order.

He was staring right at you. You’re pretty sure he’s staring right through you. Eyes never breaking contact with yours, knowing and smug. At least, you thought it had been smug. That could very well be your mind playing tricks on you after your awful, sinful deed from last night eats away at you. Dabi doesn't know. He can't know. He’s no mind reader. Not omnipotent. Just a man. With tattoos. And muscles and god, you have to get yourself together.

“Hm, does your butterscotch silk latte have real butter in it?” The younger boy pipes up, completely oblivious to the question finally breaking the staring contest between you and Dabi. 

You almost laugh. Of course it doesn’t. They’re all syrups. Sugary sweet and addictive. But you answer him anyway, not wanting to come off rude and risk another ‘coaching’ from your manager.

“No, but it has the flavor of butterscotch candy,” you beam, trying too hard not to look weird. You pray no one notices.

“Alright, I'll take that one.”

You nod, looking back at Dabi. “And for you, sir?”

He takes his time thinking, bringing a finger to his chin to mockingly emphasize just how hard it is to come up with an order from a cafe menu. You want the ground to open and swallow you whole. 

He looks back at you, a smile gracing his features and you feel your heart skip a beat. “I dunno. What do you recommend?”

You stammer, unsure of what coffee would suit him best. This was a test of some kind and you were sure to fail. “Well, do you prefer a sweeter coffee or something with a bit more bite?” You ask in desperate hopes to get something out of him. Some kind of clue to help you. 

Dabi only shrugs, heavy lidded eyes giving the illusion of boredom, but the smirk on his face showed otherwise. You knew better. He was definitely toying with you. “Dunno. How about you just make me your favorite drink and we go from there?” 

“Um, yeah, okay. I’ll just ring it up for you and they’ll have it out in–” 

“Oh, I want you to make it.” he cuts you off. 

You don't make drinks. You run the counter. You are a cashier and not a drink maker but when someone as good looking as Dabi asks you to… well, it's worth a shot. You know exactly what goes in the drink. You've had it made dozens of times. 

So you nod, ring them up and get to it. Your fumbling movements only show your amateur status as a drink maker but you push through it. Combining syrups and coffee and trying your best to still eavesdrop on the guys waiting for their drinks at the counter. 

“Thank you for inviting me here, Touya.” You hear the younger boy say. Touya. You thought his name was Dabi. You’re not sure, but you assume this is the little brother his coworker may have mentioned. They look similar. 

“Yeah, just don’t mention it to Natsuo, he’ll have a fit if he found out.” Dabi (Touya?) responds, checking his watch.

You were almost finished with the drink, the last missing piece being the whipped cream topping, but the can was giving you a hard time.

It was unwilling to open and you were not willing to give up. After a small splatter and a concerned look from a coworker, you get the pump to work. Effectively spraying the whipped topping on the drink and taking it over to dabi. The younger boy already had his drink made and it was only you keeping them waiting. 

“Iced mocha latte with whip cream. Hope you like it.” you say, extending the drink to the man before you, praying he doesn't notice the slight waver of your hand. Dabi stares at you for a moment and you’re pretty sure you blew it. He won't even think the drink is worth trying. 

He leans forward, close enough that you smell the faint cologne he’s wearing, and reaches a hand forward. His thumb brushed your cheek, revealing a drop of whipped cream. Your face heats up, and heats further as you watch his tongue dart out, a glimmer of silver taunting you as he licks his thumb. The eye contact is electrifying as he pulls back, taking his drink. “Thanks. I'm eager to try it.” 

You’re stuck watching his back as he walks away, brother in tow as the familiar chime of the bell announces their departure. 

That night, in the cool quiet of your room you pull out your faithful vibrator and cum so hard you see stars, fresh and woodsy scent of Touya’s cologne still lingering in your nose.

—-----

He keeps stopping by. 

Every time it’s with a different person and it's almost like he's taunting you. Playing a game or teasing you. But he’s never alone. 

Every time he asks for the same thing – iced mocha latte, your style– and every time you rush to make it for him.  

Until one friday. 

He came in just as your store was closing. The perks of working in a coffee shop is that they close at a reasonable time. This time it was four in the afternoon, sun shining and the day was still looking promising. You greet him as usual and prepare yourself for his order. Today is no different from the others.

Except this time he doesn't leave right away. 

The shop is closing and he's still standing there, staring at you as he sips his coffee. You weren't sure what he was playing at, but you continued your work. Finishing up and pulling out your keys to lock up the shop. You would have to walk past him, inform him that the store was closed and he would need to leave as you did, since it was your unlucky day to close. 

You gather your nerves and walk towards the door, turquoise eyes following your every move. Steeling yourself, you inhale ready to politely kick him out and run to your home. 

“What are you doing after this?” He starts, cutting you off before words could leave your lips. His gaze is unfazed as you’re taken by surprise. 

The keys jingle in your hand as you furrow your brows in confusion. “What?”

He shakes the cup of coffee, ice crashing together and liquid sloshing around. “I said, what are you doing after this? As in, plans.” 

“Oh, I have to go home and study,” you answer lamely. It was the truth. The whole reason you had this job was for the hours and free time it gave you to study.

He only smiled, eyes alight with mischief. “How studious of you.”

You walk towards the door and surprisingly Dabi opens it for you, following closely behind. “Well, yeah,” you reply, finally locking the doors with a huff. “It’s almost like I'm a student or something.” 

There was a scoff at this. “Snappy.” 

You look away, dried leaf on the sidewalk being the most interesting thing you have at the moment. Not the man standing before you, sipping the coffee you made and analyzing your every move. 

You move to walk past him, he steps in front of you. You try the other way, only to be met with him in front of you, again, sipping his nearly empty coffee drink. You can’t believe the metaphorical man of your dreams was this childish.

He calls your name, catching your attention. 

Shock stains your features as your eyes meet his, “how do you know my–?”

“Name tag.” He points out, sharp and clear. Heat rises to your cheeks. Right. Name tag. You were sure that now would be the perfect time to be swallowed up by the ground. 

He speaks again, interrupting your train of thought. “Let's hang out.”

“Why?” You ask before you think.

He shrugs, “‘cause I'm bored and you shouldn’t waste a Friday afternoon buried in a book.”

Are you dreaming? You have to be. There was no way he was asking you this. Dream or not, you weren't going to let the opportunity pass you by. “What did you want to do?” You humor him. 

He grins. “We can figure it out.”

“Fine.”

—---

Your tiny apartment never felt more cramped as you watched Dabi make himself at home. 

“Did you want anything to drink?” You ask, forcing yourself to ignore the blatant invasion of privacy as he scanned over the notes scattered across your coffee table. 

“Sure.”

You drag yourself to the couch, two glasses in tow and hand one to the man before you. This felt like a prank. Surreal. The guy who’s plagued your mind for weeks is here, in your home, fresh cologne and fluffy hair distracting and endearing. 

It was strange, but you learned a lot about Dabi on the way to your apartment. He prefers the name Dabi and not Touya. Only his family calls him that. He works for a computer company and he hates superhero movies. 

Your dream man had a lot of odd... quirks, but they were charming.

“Do you know that you have a staring problem?” 

The question shakes you from your thoughts, condensation from the glass wetting your fingers as you realize you hadn't even taken a sip. Way too focused on the man before you. Watching him as he watched you back, eyes light and teasing. 

The heat rising to your face gave away your embarrassment as you turned away from him and focused on drinking your water. It was refreshing and distracting as Dabi relaxed into the couch more, turning towards you and letting his arm rest on the couch space above your head, almost caging you in, the space between you quickly becoming nonexistent. 

You stood to your feet, abrupt and hoping to diffuse the air between you both. Your head started to feel fuzzy and you needed a little space. You reached down to grab Dabi’s empty glass from the coffee table, hoping to put it away and put more distance between you when you noticed his expression shift to one of surprise.

“Oh? What’s this?” 

He’s up before you could register the curiosity in his voice. Your eyes followed him as he walked over to your nightstand and you felt your stomach turn. 

Your breath hitched as you immediately recognized the small object in his hand. It was your bullet vibrator. The one you forgot to put away last night and now the man of your dreams had it, holding it up for all to see.

The mortification is suffocating as you drop the cups back on the table and rush towards dabi, desperate to get the device from him. 

You fall short as he holds it above your reach, the grin that filled your dreams now becoming one of your nightmares.

“Dabi! Put it down!” You yell, standing on your toes and pressing against him, ignoring your close proximity as you reach for your vibrator. 

This only seemed to amuse the man more, “What? So you can use it?” 

Your words caught in your throat as you continued to push and reach, taking another step forward as he took one backwards. 

Dabi must have underestimated the closeness of your bed because in a second he goes down, now sitting on the bed and you take the opportunity to climb into his lap. Almost snatching the device, but he was faster. Instead, his free hand pushes you further in the direction you were reaching, effectively knocking you down onto the bed and onto your side. 

He wasted no time, crowding you and caging you beneath him, the vibrator tauntingly being waved in your face. 

“What’s all the fuss about? Don’t tell me you’re embarrassed.” You could do nothing but helplessly stare up at him and pray he didn’t notice you press your thighs together, arousal soaking your panties.

The man of your dreams was here, in your home, in your bed, above you and teasing relentlessly. 

“You want me to give it back?” He asked, you could only nod your head, scared to make a noise in the fear of anything coming out in the form of a moan. “Okay, beg for it.”

You felt goosebumps dance across your skin as your face burned. “Please.”

Dabi only raised a bow. Not enough. 

You swallowed, your pride and shame flowing out of your head and down your body. “P-please give it back.” His smile makes your heart race.

“Give what back?” God he was driving you mad like this.

“Please Dabi. Please give me my v-vibrator back.” 

Dabi sits up with a satisfied huff and you think you’re finally free of this nightmare. 

Your thoughts are shut down as you hear the familiar buzz of your vibrator stirring to life. You shoot him an incredulous look as he just gives you that grin. Pushing your thighs apart and pressing the humming device to your clothed cunt. You can't stop the gasp that escapes your lips.

“What? I’m just giving it back to you like you asked.”

Your brain is in system overload. The sensation of the device was dulled by the fabric of your jeans but that didn’t stop the pleasure from reaching you. 

Dabi leaned in, tongue piercing flashing as he wet his lips. Your eyes followed the motion. That damn tongue piercing has been haunting you for weeks. 

Your line of focus is not lost on dabi, his eyes alight with mischief, 

“See something you like?” He teases before diving down, tongue running a wet streak from your collarbone up to your jaw, the ball of metal sending shivers down your spine. “You’re such a cute little whore, I’ll show you what else it can do.” 

You weren't sure if you should feel insulted by the name or elated by the promise, you didn’t have time to figure it out either as you were lifted and your clothes were stripped, cool air of the room meeting your heated body.

Dabi had you on your back again and wasted no time pressing his lips to yours, teasing tongue darting out and you were eager to taste the sleek metal. You could only mewl into his mouth as the once tossed aside vibrator found your bare clit. The intense and familiar feeling is only amplified by the object of your affections holding you down.

You were so wet the vibrator had no issues gliding back and forth across your clit, slick soaking it and Dabi’s fingers. The man in question pulled back, bringing his free hand to your tits, kneading and massaging them as his mouth met your budding nipple. 

The cool glide of his piercing was invigorating, causing heat to pool in your belly. Your hands shot to his soft hair, gripping tighter than you intended. You were so close to cumming and it’s almost embarrassing how fast you were going to meet your end. 

Dabi paid no mind, groaning at the grip you had in his hair and giving your nipple a particularly hard suck. 

The combination of sensations leave you breathless as the orgasm crashes over you, pulling a cry from the back of your throat. 

“Ah,” you hear him breathe, your thighs twitching from the sensation of it all. “I missed it. I wanted to see the look on your face when you came.” 

You could only whimper as he pulled away, vibrator still humming. “Guess I'll have to do it again.” 

Your eyes widened at his words and you opened your mouth, desperate to get a word out, before he clicks the device again. The whirring is louder as the settings are ramped up and pressed to your already overstimulated clit. 

You couldn’t bite back the cry as he pressed harder onto your bud, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure jolting through your body. 

“D-dabi, please,” you cried, “I’m gonna–”

He only laughed as you reached a weak hand down, in hopes of slowing the inevitable. It's effortless, the way he takes your wrist and pins it down with his free hand. Instead choosing to focus on getting another orgasm out of you. 

It doesn't take much more than that, eyes rolling back as the second wave of euphoria wracks your body.

“Aw, look at the mess you made.” His voice drags you out of your thoughts, the hum of the vibrator finally ceases as it's shut down. Dabi leans down and places an open mouthed kiss directly onto your clit, smooth piercing slipping across the bundle of nerves and causing you to gasp. 

You felt weak, thighs twitching as you came back down from your high. You’re not sure how much more your body can take, but Dabi seems to be in the business of finding out. Pressing a finger against your entrance and pumping it. The feeling makes your breath catch, hands gripping the sheets. 

You can only watch as his other hand strokes his cock in anticipation, giddy feeling budding in your lower abdomen as you take notice of the shining silver piercing there. 

Of course his dick is pierced too. Just your luck. 

Dabi is as observant as ever and follows your gaze, pressing a second finger into you, the stretch pulling a moan from your lips. He curls them and you squeeze your eyes shut in pleasure. 

After a moment of this, he’s had enough, sliding his fingers out with a wet pop and leaning over you. A pathetic moan escapes you as you feel his erection rub against your cunt, wet and waiting. He stalls, looking down at you with that grin that drives you mad. 

“Ready?” He asks and you don't have a chance to respond before he’s pushing forward, tight muscles stretching around his cock and sucking him in further. Your toes curl in pleasure, feeling overwhelming as you gasp. 

He presses on, stretching you further and finally bottoming out within you, head brushing your cervix. He doesn’t give you a chance to adjust, pulling back far enough to make you want more, but not enough to pull out completely, before slamming forward and starting a ruthless pace. 

Your hands grip his back, trying to find any kind of purchase to ground yourself. Dabi is having a blast, dropping his head onto your shoulder as he enjoyed the warmth of your walls pulling him in. The rhythmic drag of his piercing massaging the spot inside that makes you see stars.

It was too much. You felt yourself on the verge of coming undone for the third time and desperately clung to the feeling.

“You got another one for me, slut?” He mocked, tone only pushing you further as he grabbed your hair, roots burning while he whispered into your ear, “Do it, show me how desperate you are.” 

And you do. You feel your legs shake as electric energy washes over your body, back arching as you pull Dabi closer. There’s a groan from him as your walls tighten and it only takes the erratic flow of his thrust to signal he was getting close too. 

It's only a few moments later that he’s coming undone inside you, bottomed out as his balls press against your pussy. The warm feeling of being filled spreads across your body as your cheeks heat with the realization of what just happened. 

Dabi takes a minute to catch his breath, softening inside you before slowly pulling out and it's impossible to ignore the emptiness left behind. 

You’re not sure what to say as he takes his place beside you on the bed, eyes closed and face satiated. 

“You know,” he starts, catching your attention, “your favorite coffee sucks.”

You scoff in disbelief, the randomness catching you off guard. “Could have fooled me, that's the only thing you order.”

“Yeah,” he turns his head, blue eyes meeting yours, “but I liked to watch you make it, so that makes up for it.” 

You roll your eyes, masking the way your heart flutters, “yeah, well, I guess I’ll have to make you something else.”

He smiles, lids falling shut, “yeah, I guess you will.”

[ladyxskywalker]

In Exile, ch.iii

Anakin Skywalker x F!Reader/OFC

after a tense encounter in the mountains, anakin falls asleep by the waterfalls, completely exhausted of his power. but what he doesn’t expect, is for his kind lady friend to find him there

part one | part two | part four

a choose your own outcome story ! weekly story polls posted at the end of each chapter ! hope you enjoy !💌

Dreams

He could only remember all the ways the entire mountain shook, an all consuming echo of vengeance that no one below could really trace. 

How the cliffs separated into sharpened boulders and flying rock all around. The fading sound of an enemy, disappearing from the swaying trees as debris rushed against them.

And then all went completely silent. 

An eerie kind of stillness that only comes from the force when things suddenly turn themselves dark.

Anakin’s hands were still wound shut into tightened fists, as if he’d been holding on to the overwhelming sense of energy that hadn’t been present inside of them anymore.

“What have I done?” He whispered to himself, slowly opening the palms of his hands, holding them out in front of him.

There was nothing tangible to be found there, only an air of pure exhaustion and sadness.

“Why can’t people just leave me alone?”

Walking nearest to the banks beside the waterfalls, he kneels down by the water; a leftover current from earlier, rippling all of it as if it had been a running creek or river. But instead, this kind of pool became nothing more than a mirror, the reflection of the man staring back at him then, was somehow unrecognizable. 

He couldn’t stand it.

The look in his eyes.

His unkempt hair.

Tattered edges ripped apart from his robes. 

What had truly become of him? He wondered to himself; veering off - drifting.

Tall blades of grass cradling him; finding himself wanting nothing more than to just lay down next to the one part of this place that brought him a sense of calm. 

…

everything’s too bright…

I’m done with this…

I should just leave, find a way out of here…

There’s a field of wheat surrounding Anakin in the light of the afternoon, a golden hour that makes everything look like it had all been just one color. An appearance of stray shadows that passes over all of his crops. He knows things have to eventually get cut down, but he’s too tired and frustrated to care about that enough right now.

I’m sweating…

this sucks…

So often, and against his own judgment, this is the time when he thinks to himself. That full mind of his, a complete mess of memories that makes him spiral. He thinks about the children and where they might have really ended up. If they had been separated, or whether or not they were with families that loved them.

I would have loved them…

Padme would have been a good mother…

He busies himself to try to drown out everything that’s been replaying in his head - her voice; Obi Wan’s…

A final hug shared between two very close friends, the kind that shouldn’t have been the ending between brothers before they had both fought. 

nothing makes sense anymore…

His hair in this type of heat feels matted against his forehead. It’s become too long now, so much so, that it’s falls into his eyelids, spilling over his brow. It makes him look angry and abrasive - the words overheard in the day time that others so often like to use, because they’re certainly not his own.

He wishes he could change his appearance, but what for? Nobody knows him anyway. No one’s ever cared to look. 

not true...

Trying his best to smooth the unruly waves out of his own way, he begins to fuss with tying up the back of it instead of focusing on his work. But the shred of material in his hands is just too short, he can’t seem to get a good grip on it. So easily becoming more and more stressed and frustrated.

If only Anakin could scream.

Shout into the void of clouds, and far away houses.

But each time he opens his mouth, he can only breathe out a huff of quiet.

how is it that there isn’t any sound?

Agitated with everything now, he begins to stare off without blinking, as if in a wordless trance - looking around for something. 

All of the flowers that once were planted, somehow are all gone.

They’ve all just disappeared, turning out beneath his boots to only be a patch of dust.

this isn’t real…

what’s going on?

And so, he grabs hold of his belt, where a pair of shears can be found. They’re the same ones he uses in the Winter to trim his sheep’s wool. It’s one of the only tools that he can reach right now to prove to himself that at least something in this place had been real.

these are sharp.

don’t touch them.

He remembers that kind interaction from long ago, telling you to be careful when working around him. The silhouette of your gentle face looking toward him so insistently, softening always in the light of dawn with a smile. An early morning mist each time adhering to your skin, before catching on.

I don’t care anymore…

I’ll just cut it all off…

enough’s enough…

“Wait! Lars! What are you doing?! Don’t!” you yell out toward him, like a startlingly beautiful sound. You think there must be something seriously wrong - that something else has been pulling at him inside that goes far beyond just getting overexerted at the farm. And so you run, afraid that he might hurt himself.

“Please…” you begin, patiently, before taking a soothing hold of his wrists. His mechanical arm, feeling smooth, and somewhat cold in your palms.

“Please…” you try again, “put those down. Let me, just…” 

So instead, you reach up, watching carefully as his eyes start to close, smoothing all the hair away for his eyes and the dampened skin of his face, careful not to pull at it all too tightly. That when his shoulders relax from all their tensing, he thinks perhaps your touch just might have saved him there - from the plague of all consuming torment; from the daydreams masquerading as all of his waking nightmares.

…

“Lars…Lars, dear, are you alright?”

Stirring himself awake, only then at the sound of your voice does Anakin realize that all the while he must have been dreaming. 

she called me…dear…

ha.

that’s funny.

“Sorry, there was some sort of earthquake. Must’ve passed out…”

“There certainly was. The whole village is somewhat destroyed…I think you actually might have been dreaming.”

“How…how did you…”

“I just had a strange feeling when I didn’t see you back home. Most of the people had already been accounted for. When I couldn’t find you I…”

“You were looking for me?”

“I…well…”

Anakin sits up, finding now that since you’d been here, his inner strength had been enough.

“It’s fine, I just…wasn’t expecting this. I’m still a bit shaken up.”

she’s laughing…

did I just…

“Now there’s a real pun if I’ve ever heard one!”

Anakin smirks, brushing himself off and stretching before standing back up from the ground.

“Like that, don’t you, my lady?”

“Mhmm, almost as much as you calling me that! While you were sleeping, I’m pretty sure you were mumbling my name somehow…”

“I was?”

“Although…I’m probably wrong…”

There’s a slight moment of pause held in the space between you then. It isn’t awkward, in fact, it’s just enough of an enjoyable back and forth for him. If only you had known his true, given name, that would make all of this all the more fun. 

“Not wrong…”

“Oh…well, what were you thinking about?”

“Something awful, and weird. Then you showed up. Made everything better.”

Looking down, suddenly you’ve grown quite bashful.

“I did? Well…that’s lovely…I mean good.”

“You always do that.”

“Do what?”

Anakin steps closer, engaging you with his words as you stand before him, watching intently as you hang onto all of them.

“You always tend to look away from me. Don’t.”

He whispers, finding himself brushing the backs of his fingertips along your face; caressing your cheek, then gliding softly toward your chin.

Tilting it…

But before you are even able to say anything else, he does all the speaking for you.

Through wordless action, and a comfortable safety that comes from being held.

His arms wrapping all the way around you and bringing you further to him.

Your loving hands, reaching delicately for the back of his neck in order just to rest there.

Expecting him to kiss you slowly…

Though, being patient, was never on Anakin’s radar…

Leaving you as breathless as ever just to enjoy the impassioned way in which he does.

…💐

Thanks so much for reading! 💌 the response to this story has been wonderful, and so much fun! Thank you again to everyone for reading & sharing. I would love to hear your thoughts ! what has been your favorite part so far? 💫 xoxo

[augustvandyne]

Lucy chen x reader.

Lucy and reader are sent undercover as a couple. This brings up hidden feelings from both women, and Lucy shows up to r's apartment a couple of nights later, and confessions are made. (Reader is Angela's partner/best friend. R is a detective.)

lucy is actually my girlfriend and current obsession right now

this is really sucky, i apologize.

old feelings

It’s late, your head hurts, and you’re hungry, but you can’t seem to bring yourself to ignoring Angela’s phone call.

She normally never calls at night unless it’s super important. Whether it’s about work or her person life with the kids and/or Wesley.

“This better be real important Ang,” You hiss in pain when your head starts pounding even more than it already was. “And there better be a reward of Ibuprofen at the end of it.”

Angela chuckles tensely, “I’ll have Ibuprofen waiting here for you when you get to the station.”

You sigh, but stand nonetheless. You had a feeling something had happened after you left. But it may have also had to do with you just abruptly leaving without saying goodbye to Angela.

“There better be,” You scrunch up your face. “I ran out last night or I would have already taken some.”

“Alright, well, get here. There’s an undercover operation in the works, and they need you,” You can hear the nervousness in Angela’s voice.

“What’s wrong?” You swallow, the nervousness from Angela making its way to you.

“I’ll tell you when you get here,” Angela is shaking her head.

“Okay,” You hang up the phone and grab your keys, trying your best to ignore the pulsing in your head as you slam the apartment door and make your way out to your car.

You make sure to turn the volume of the radio the whole way down once you start the engine.

You breathe out a gust of air, making your way back to the station as fast as possible.

Angela held her promise, as she is standing in the lobby of the station as soon as you get there with a bottle of medication and a bottle of water.

“Talk to me,” You throw the pills in your mouth, drinking almost the whole bottle of water along with it.

“It shouldn’t be me,” You turn to see the pain in Angela’s eyes and you realize it has something to do with Angela’s personal life. Meaning her husband or kids.

“Oh Ang,” You pull her into her for a quick hug before the two of you speed to the conference room.

You see Wade, Nyla, Tim and Lucy all waiting there. Similar expressions in their faces.

“Someone better start talking,” You glance at each other them. Your gaze lingering on Lucy’s for longer than necessary.

“It’s Wesley,” Nyla breaks the silence, sparing a small look in Angela’s direction.

Your heart drops to the floor, “I had a feeling.”

“So let’s stop sitting around sulking about it and come up with a plan.”

“Officer Bradford,” Grey warns. “We have a plan—“

“We have an outline,” He corrects.

“Officer Bradford,” You shake your head, making your way to the empty seat beside Lucy. “Like you said, let’s stop wasting time. Share the outline with me.”

“As far as we know, Wesley Evers has been taken by Elijah Stone and his men.”

You feel Lucy stiffen beside you, and you assume it has to do with Elijah.

You had your own history with Elijah. Not like he had tried to come after you before, because he knows better than to mess with a cop straight on, but the station had been following Elijah for a long while now. And if you could catch him, you would do whatever it takes.

“..so there will be an undercover operation,” Nyla is talking now. You must’ve tuned Grey out while you were thinking. “For obvious reasons, we can’t have Angela go under. And we know I can’t, because I can’t risk my shared custody with my daughter again.”

“Is— is that why I’m here?” Lucy asks excitedly, sitting up in her seat.

“Precisely,” Grey tries to hold back a small smile.

“That’s also why I’m here,” You conclude.

“You catch on quick,” Tim remarks sarcastically.

You clench your jaw, and down the rest of your water.

“We think it would be better if we had people on the inside. People Wesley recognizes,” Nyla nods, looking at Wade so he could finish.

“Wesley will recognize you, and neither of you have went head on with Elijah or his men.. so you are our two viable options,” Grey nods, holding his hands in front of his waist.

“Separately? Or..” Lucy asks, and you look at her. She’s so adorable. So naive.

“Together, Chen,” Tim narrows his eyes. “Like as a couple.”

“Okay, seriously what’s up your ass?” You hollow your cheeks, having about enough of this man’s attitude.

“Detective—“

“No, you have no right to be disrespectful to anyone, let alone Officer Chen, who has been nothing but respectful since I’ve gotten here. So apologize,” You raise your brows when Tim just stands there. “Now.”

“I’m sorry, Chen,” Tim says, internally rolling his eyes.

“You didn’t have to—“

“I know,” You say, just barely missing the blush on her face.

Within the next forty-eight hours, the two of you are off on a plane, one of Aaron’s planes, to be specific.

They’d set up a small townhouse near where they suspected Wesley was being held.

You could feel the anxiety radiating off Lucy, but she never once said anything. You admired her strength through this all.

You and Lucy had a past, if that’s what you’d call it.

You trained her for a while there when Tim was out after being shot, and you’d shared moments, to say the least.

If you asked Angela, she probably would’ve told you that the two of you almost made out at one point, but you didn’t think that. Something about get together at the bar one night, and some longing stares.. you didn’t really know.

But you probably would have asked her out, had you not been in her line of work for the longest time.

You followed most of the rules - including the very strict and unnecessary dating policy.

Then by the time you made it to be up for the detectives exam, the both of you had forgotten about your longing glances and schoolgirl crushes.

Until now.

Lucy is sitting on the edge of the bed now, tapping her fingertips on her lower thighs as a nervous tic. She bites her lip, probably hard enough to draw blood. That was something you remember about her.

“Are you okay, Lucy?” You tilt your head, moving to sit beside her on the bed.

“Yeah,” She shrugs. “This is kind of my first real operation, and I know if I mess up, Angela will have my head.”

“I won’t let her,” You say after a beat of silence.

“Why would you care?” Lucy’s brows furrow, not a hint of anger in her voice. Only curiosity.

“Do you mind if I shower first? I still kind of have a headache..” You stand, not looking her in the eye any longer.

“Oh, I brought some medicine, if you’d want,” Lucy smiles politely.

“I’ll see how I feel after,” You clear your throat and grab whatever clothes are on top for after. “But, thank you.”

You remember that look in Lucy’s eye. You’ve seen it before. All that time ago when you were training her. You had deja vu.

Lucy suggested the two of you went out for something to eat, make yourself seen.

She was smart for that, because not only had you picked a place Elijah’s presence was well known in, but you’d also laid eyes on Wesley for the first time in a few days.

It was a local bar, but it was more on the fancier side, if that makes sense. It served food other than anything that is made in the same grease, so in your opinion, that was fancy all on its own. But Lucy proceeded to tell you all about it.

Which was why you got deja vu in the first place.

She was spinning facts at you, and you were listening intently, laughing here and there to try and gain Wesley’s attention.

You’d gotten it, and he knew you were there. You and him shared a nod.

The glint in her eye is still there when she stops talking after she realizes you’re just watching her.

Out of the corner of your eye you see Elijah glance towards the two of you.

You give her a wide smile, grabbing her hand gently.

You see the light tint of blush on her cheeks, and you try to narrow your eyes so she understands, but she’s more focused on your touch.

You pull her hand to yours lips to cover your mouth, “He’s watching.”

She snaps out of in, and falls into character. She’s leaning on the table, her chin resting on her knuckles of her free hand.

“I love you, you know?” Lucy gives a love struck smile.

“You’ve never said that aloud efore,” A smile takes over your features.

“I know..” She looks down. “But I’ve been thinking it for a while. Ever since.. you know.”

“No, I don’t,” You have the feeling she’s going to try to share her feelings, for real. So you let her.

“When my mother came over the last time. When she blamed me for being with a woman.”

“Yes,” You say. You remember hearing about it through the grapevine, but it wasn’t you in this scenario, it was someone else. That made you feel an almost.. jealous feeling. “I wanted to tell you that night too, but.. you were having so many feelings.”

“And I appreciate you for that,” Lucy leans forward slightly.

You don’t even care if Elijah is watching anymore, because when Lucy leans forward a fraction of an inch, all you’re focused on are her soft and inviting lips.

You liked playing pretend with Lucy. It felt amazing, like maybe you should have asked her out when you wanted to back then.

But it was time to go home now, after a successful rescue mission for Wesley. And you were sort of upset about it.

You were happy to be back home in your own bed after almost two months, but you were kind of missing Lucy and yours’ dinner dates right now.

You’re bingeing an episode of Top Chef when you hear a knock on your door.

Swinging the door open, you see Lucy. She has an oversized sweater on, and she’s playing with the sleeve.

“Lucy?” You frown. “What are you doing here?”

“I need to tell you something,” She comes in the door without even being invited in.

“Could it wait—“

“No,” Lucy cuts you off. “It can’t. Or I’ll talk myself out of telling you. Again. I need to do it now or I may never do it at all.”

You were intrigued now, so you grab Lucy by the sleeve and pull her towards you, leading the both of you to your couch.

“What’s wrong Lucy?” Your brows are furrowed.

“Well..” You watch as Lucy tries to decide how to say when she needs to get out. “It’s just.. mm.”

“Spit it out, Luce,” You chuckle lightly, shaking your head.

“Ihavefeelingsforyou,” She says it so fast you almost don’t even hear what she said.

A look flashes across her face at your reaction, and from your point of view, it looks like regret.

“I’m sorry,” Lucy swallows nervously. “I’ll.. um, I’m just— I’ll go.”

“No,” You say instantly, grabbing her arm to pull her back onto the couch. “I’m just surprised because, well.. I know when I was training you - when Tim was out - that I also shared feelings for you. Angela even saw something, which should tell you something all in itself. But anyway, these past weeks, the feelings had returned and.. I wouldn’t be opposed to a real date.”

Lucy lets out a long and relieved sigh, “Oh, thank god. Because I almost had a heart attack. And, also, I used to have feelings for you too.. why didn’t you just ask me out.”

You chuckle and shake your head, “I was in your line of duty. And I wasn’t ready to move from patrol yet.”

A look flashes in Lucy’s eyes as she turns her head to look at the television.

“Oo! Top Chef?” Lucy’s eyes light up. “We’re definitely going on a date.”

Lucy moves a little closer to you, and leans her head on your shoulder.

You both fall asleep like that.

[lurkingshan]

Japanese QL Corner

The fun continues with three currently airing gems, a new show entering the fray, and an animated story so good I am reading a manga to keep up with it. Four of these are on Gaga and one is coming to us via fan sub. Jump on in to the weekly watch, we're having so much fun and not feeling at all overwhelmed by the deluge of amazing content! *chuckles nervously*

Takara's Treasure

I continue to love this quiet little show. This week I desperately wanted someone, anyone, to answer Taishin's earnest questions. He is doing his best to figure this out but no one is helping him! I like that despite wanting him to figure out his feelings for himself, Takara continues to reach out to Taishin to let him know his attention is welcome. This week we also met Emiri, an instant fav who taught Taishin all about stanning. I appreciate that this show joined other recent jbls in making a clear distinction between being a stan and being in love. Real love is not fanaticism, and the former is what Takara seems to want from Taishin--once he's ready.

I Hear the Sunspot

Ugh this show just gets me right in the heart. As I hoped, we got to sit with Taichi this episode as he worked through his confusion and worry about Kohei. It makes sense for Kohei to back off in the wake of his ignored confession, and it also makes sense that Taichi didn't hear him (metaphorically). And even after having it repeated in a way he can't misunderstand, he still doesn't know what to do with it. He just knows he likes Kohei and wants to be around him, and he seems okay with just leaving it at that for now. I loved, too, that we got to spend time with Kohei as he's coping with his worsening condition and get to know his mother, who is a delightful person who loves Taichi just as much as her son does. I'm so glad we are getting to see this story told properly in full in such a great adaptation.

Ayaka is in Love with Hiroko

Finally, the truth!!! Ayaka is a menace and Hiroko is fighting for her life. Like hanging out with a niece, my ass! Most of the office misinterpreting Ayaka's behavior as crushing on Yuya instead of Hiroko continues to be hilarious, as are all Hiroko's friends trying to push her to cross the line. I was sad to learn that Risa has her own unrequited love going on; I want all the girls to end this story happily! I did love their conversation about identity, and that the show gave some space for Ayaka to consider whether lesbian is the right label for her. Checking out the lesbian bar together was a great way to test things out, and I was dying at the other girls hitting on Ayaka. Can't wait to see what happens next now that Hiroko has no more denial to cling to.

Mr. Mitsuya's Planned Feeding

Shoutout to @isaksbestpillow for picking this show up, because it’s an instant fav! Ishida and Mitsuya are fantastic characters, and man are they GAY. This is a food drama and a story of queer men of different generations seeing something unexpected in each other and forming a surprising bond. I was pleasantly surprised by how immediately the attraction and sexual tension arrived in this story, and I want to know so much more about Mitsuya and why he seems to be holding a desperate sadness alongside all his wisdom about life. Very excited to see these two nourish each other. You can find Sirii’s subs here.

Twilight Out of Focus

I don't watch anime (do not @ me, many have tried), but @bengiyo liked the story for this one enough that he told me I can’t skip it, so I am reading the manga along with the show. And I gotta say, I loved this first story with Mao and Hisashi (this is a multi couple series so not sure how the next one will go). Ben is on vacay so I'm tagging @twig-tea to talk about the episode that aired this week.