#(AND YEAH SOME TAGS' CONTENTS COULD BE WAY BETTER cry)

[blitz0hno]

Oh perfect it's Purge March day so anyway amane innocent sweep trial 3 let's Go

Listen listen listen it's p straightforward at this point

Amane does worldly medicine (on cat) -> breaking doctrine bc ur supposed to let god heal things -> punished severely, knows that's what is "supposed" to happen because it happens over and over as shown on Magic

Amane's "mother" kills the cat, presumably violently -> breaking doctrine on vulgar action (hurting/killing another living being; they make it a point to emphasize Amane's vegetarianism so it's obviously a very big thing in the doctrine) -> no punishment? No one around to punish her? No one else sees the contradiction? Well Amane is a big adult girl right? In her own eyes anyway, thanks to the cult. A FULL member of the group!! So it's her turn to deliver justice right????

I mean. Wrong but HOW WAS SHE SUPPOSED TO KNOW?? her mother and presumably her father CHOSE to raise her in that cult and abuse her. They showed in Magic how often she had those dogmas drilled into her head. It's not her fucking fault and she's traumatized if you care

Amane was shown in Purge March to be in almost a trance-like state. Yes, she's been "trained" for this, and no matter how she's related to the sinner "a sin is a sin." Did she probably go further than she wanted/needed out of pure rage and injustice?? Even if she did, she was NOT in control of the ideas and reactions she was LITERALLY TOLD TO HAVE.

I'm not saying she was right to kill a woman honestly but no never mind I am saying that child abusers deserve death haha anyway amane inno sweep 100 years

Like Jackalope DEFINITELY ain't tryna let inno Amane slide bc he sees a need for her to "take responsibility" even though she never denies responsibility at all?? She knows what she did, or at least is sure she knows. She isn't remorseless, she has been told that feelings are bad compared to God's word. Shocker that she represses them.

Also technically it was her mother's responsibility to not get herself murdered by abusing her child and killing a cat and raising her kid in a cult. I'm not a victim blamer but that's a 12 year old dawg if you messed up that bad in life nothing's saving you try again next time.

[nymphoniah]

thinking about pornstar!old man!logan having a channel where he and his pretty princess play for a while, or rather, he plays with his little doll, teasing her clit for so loooongg and edging her, until he gets bored and doesn't stop making her cum, overstimulating her, obviously she's such a cry baby, pleading him to stop but everyone knows that in the inside she doesn't want to stop. need this man to fuck me dumb and record it ngl 💝

trash magic | logan howlett

a/n: you read my mind!! omg i was thinking about this the other day, about what it would be like running an account with logan, and oh my god my brain was absolutely going numb just thinking about ittt >_<

pairing: pornstar!old man!logan x afab!pornstar!reader

contents/tags/warnings: nsfw, minors dni, 18+ only, filming pornography, porn with a little bit of plot, age gap (reader is in their 20’s), oral sex (female receiving), cunnilingus, cum eating, pet names (princess, babydoll, etc.), overstimulation, daddy kink, manhandling

when you proposed the idea to logan, he thought it was absolutely ridiculous. sure, in his 200 years, he’s seen some shit, experimented sexually when he was younger, but that was before.

now that he’s visibly aged, logan is reluctant to admit that he feels self conscious about the way he looks—he’s worried that he isn’t at the “top of his game” for you, that you’d leave him for a better, younger looking guy.

but that thought never crosses your pretty little mind. his age, the way he looks, it doesn’t bother you one bit—if anything, it spurs you on even more. you love every single of his “imperfections”, at least that’s what he calls them.

in your eyes, he’s perfect.

filming your first ever home video was a slight challenge, having to figure out which angles to record at while struggling with finding the correct lighting.

after smoothing out all of those bumps along the way, the two of you found that you had quite a knack for making porn.

the films you and logan would made could never be compared to the fake shit you’d see on those sketchy porn websites. no faked orgasms, obnoxiously loud moaning, none of that nonsense. when the two of you fucked, you absolutely fuckin’ meant it.

“no more…” you sob, feeling your mind getting hazy. you were at your third, no, fourth orgasm, but logan was convinced he could pull another one out of you. “s’too much, daddy!”

“you taste too sweet, princess” logan mumbles against your cunt, his beard drenched in your arousal. “just one more time f’me, yeah?”

his tongue messily laps at your folds, paying close attention to your aching bundle of nerves. he alternated between licking and sucking at the swollen button, making you whine out in ecstasy.

“m’gonna cum.. gonna cum…,” you pant out, shutting your eyes tight. your hips buck into logan’s face as you run your fingers through his hair, slightly tugging at the strands as you felt your core tighten.

“let it all fuckin’ out, babydoll,” logan groaned, flattening his tongue against your womanhood to increase the pressure on your clit. “c’mon and drench daddy’s face in your cum.”

you absolutely lose it, and the coil in your stomach snaps for what it felt like the hundredth time. you’re a whining mess beneath logan as he kept your legs spread out, his massive arms keeping you in place.

“thank you… t-thank you,” you bawl as a steady stream of tears fall down from your face, ruining the mascara you carefully applied on prior to shooting.

he continues to lap at your cunt and watches how you crumble at his touch, observing the way your brows furrow in pleasure while breathy moans escape your lips.

once you finally catch your breath, logan pulls away, beard glistening with your arousal. he readjusts and places himself on top of you, caging you in with his arms.

“taste yourself, sweetheart,” he murmurs against your lips before he parts your mouth with his tongue, sloppily making out with you.

logan breaks the kiss, and a single strand of saliva connects your bottom lip to his. using a single hand, he cups your face and squishes your cheeks together.

he roughly grabs at your jaw, turning your face to the camera that was propped at the foot of the bed with a tripod.

“now let the people watching know how good your old man fucked ‘ya.”

[rqnarok]

you cannot tell me that old man!logan doesn’t have a daddy kink…

cws/tags: sexual content. oldman!logan. mild daddy kink. subspaces. dd/lg undertones. crying. dom!logan.

Old man Logan would be so into daddy kink; the name rolls off his tongue easily—“So good for Daddy, sweetheart.” 

He just can’t help it when you accidentally call him by that name while you were reaching your high. He is the one who continuously brings it up; never letting go of it. Because he fucking loves it.

“Yeah’ that’s it, kid. There ya’ go.” Logan murmurs endless praises as you try to sink down on his large girth. Calloused hands are rubbing circles on the skin on your tummy, guiding you down and down, “Fuck. Ya’ feel me here, kiddo?” 

You only respond to his question in a whimper, closing your eyes and biting your lips as you try to take more of him. The sight of his pretty baby fucked out on his lap is the most adorable thing he has ever witnessed, “Wanna be good for dada, huh?” His mouth trails soft kisses on your warm cheeks and temple.

“Can you speak, baby?” To let him know you’re alright, you lightly bob your head as you place your hands on his shoulders to support your body and raise yourself so only his tip remains—before dropping down again—way deep this time, you’re sure you got all of him inside you and you gained some confidence.

Logan lets out a strangled grunt in surprise, “Hey, take it easy, little bug. ‘M not goin’ anywhere.” He draws his palms on your back to cling you closer to his chest.

Slowly but surely, you rest your heavy head on his neck and rub your own head there to feel his untrimmed greying beard. You’ve earned your motivation again.

“I can do it, Daddy.” You plea to him, “Can’ do it. ‘M a big girl.” 

He tilts his head to lovingly scold you, “Don’t hurt yourself, little one.” Logan’s tired sugary smile only remains until you’ve managed to lift yourself upwards—your velvet walls wrap so deliciously tight around him and making him shut his eyes and inhale sharply, “F-fuck.”

“‘M a big girl!” You repeat as you bounce irregularly—feeling like you’ve overtaken him and everything else.

Well…not for long. 

Because after around five more times going up and down on him, you could feel yourself getting exhausted. Your eyes barely open up as you squeak a high-pitched whine—making grabby hands at him to get his attention. 

To get Daddy’s attention. 

“Ah- n-need help, Daddy.” You choke out, opening your eyes slightly to see that he’s already looking - observing you.

“Hm?” Logan hums as he brings his fingers to pinch at your soft cheeks, “Thought you’re a big girl now, baby?” His thumb rests just outside of your spit-licked mouth. Earning more humming approvals from the older man when you willingly open your lips and sucks it inside. 

“Wha’dya need Daddy’s help for if you’re a big girl?” He paraphrased his question again—his palm roaming below your breast before kneading each one of them. 

Tears begin to well up in your eyes as you’re feeling the stretch, “Daddy—” and the sting in your dripping pussy as an effect of your previous actions, “I-I thought I could do it…”

“What’d Daddy say?” Oh, you know you’re in trouble because he’s scolding you now. For not listening to him and to play-act in front of him. 

“‘M sorry!” You cannot help but cry out then wrap your arms around his neck, “Was just so excited, Daddy—need you so bad!” 

Logan coos your figure by threading his big hands through your hair, shushing you hiccuped sobs down, “Shh,”

After hearing your breath steadying, he ruts his hips up against yours. Circling and thrusting to your tight heat as you rest your entire body weight onto him. You tremble in his arms as you hear skin-meet-skin slapping sounds echoing through your shared bedroom. Fully giving yourself to fall in his embrace. 

“Ya’ see? Y’re just a little girl, baby. Daddy’s little girl.”  

You nod and make out a confirmation whimper. Before you register it, he starts to move you too. 

Yeah, you feel way much better like this.

Being Daddy’s little girl and letting him have all the control there is.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unwanted 5

Warnings: non/dubcon, bullying, insults, body insecurity, perversion, and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Summary: You’re used to being unwanted, but a strange man might just convince you that’s a good thing.

Note: this is a sequel to Unsolicited/Unexpected, but with a different reader. This is Lloyd’s sequel. Peaches is flourishing somewhere else.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You run away from the uber and nearly crash into the front door. You scramble to get the keys in the lock as you refuse to look back at the car idling at the curb. You shake as you twist so hard your wrist throbs. You swing inside and just as quickly turn the lock. 

You heave and turn your back to the door. You can't believe what just happened. What he did with you right there in the back seat. Your eyes tinge with hot tears and your nose tingles. 

“What’s it this time?” Derrick scoffs as he appears in a pair of loose grey sweats and oversized hoodie. You can’t tell that he’s been sleeping all day. “You’re such a cry baby.” 

“Nothing,” you turn and drop your bag on the side table. “It’s cold, that’s it.” 

“Sure,” he peels open the bag of chips in his hands. 

You shrug. He doesn’t care. He just likes an easy target. 

You unzip your coat and hang it. You leave your boots on the mat and swipe up your bag. You tramp past him and up to your room. 

You shut the door and throw your bag on the end of your bed. You’re restless. Unsettled by that strange man. Why is he bothering you? Of all people. How did he tack onto you. You’re nothing. You’re insignificant. Maybe that’s why. Just like Derrick, he knows you’re weak. 

Your phone vibrates in your back pocket. You flinch. It’s probably your mom ready to bitch you out about the dishes or dinner. You slip the cell free and check it. Private number. 

You answer, it could be your manager. 

“Hello?” You quaver into the speaker. 

“Mmm, there’s that caked-up cutie,” the gravely purr makes you shudder. “I was just thinking of you. Again.” 

“No,” you exclaim and hang up. You throw your phone and pace around. Why? Oh, maybe it’s all your own fault. 

You’re used to being unnoticed. Being the forgotten one. And for so long, you just wanted to be seen. You dreamed of some guy way out of your league picking you out of the crowd and telling you you’re special. But not like this. No, never this. That man is a creep. 

But who are you to be picky? 

No! No. Don’t do that. You’d rather be alone. The way he talks about you, the way he looks at you, even you can see that he’s no good. He’s just a pervert and you’ve seen enough Tiktoks to know better. 

Your phone vibrates again. You ignore it. That’s your only option. 

You leave your room and your cell. You go down and start on dinner. At least your mom won’t have anything to rant about, but you’re sure she’ll think of something. 

You glaze the chicken breast and put it in the oven. You start on the potatoes, seasoning them and adding lemon wedges to the pan. You slide those on the middle rack and rinse asparagus. The front door opens and closes as you focus on the simple tasks over the complicated thoughts nipping at your ears. 

“Smells good,” your father chimes as he enters, then clears his throat, “oh, your mother isn’t home?” 

“Not yet,” you look at the time. You know she had her office holiday party but it is getting late. 

“Hm, well, put some aside for her,” he says. “Is it almost done? I’m starving.” 

“Yeah, twenty minutes,” you answer. 

He doesn’t say anything else before he leaves. You hear him upstairs as he gets changed then comes back down to flip on the television. Your brother’s surround speakers blare through the other wall as he games on his PC. 

The front door opens again. Your mother’s shrill voice carries through with a gust. 

“Oh, that’s so wonderful,” she preens. “How sweet of you.” 

You put the asparagus in the pan and pause. Who is she talking to? You turn with the spatula in hand and near the doorway. You peer down the hall and see a broad set of shoulders. Wait, you know the back of that head. 

“I mean, much more considerate than my own daughter. She’s never mentioned you,” she touches his chest as you see the smirk on her face. You grimace. 

“I think I spoiled the surprise,” Lloyd says. “We were just talking earlier and she told me to come for dinner.” 

“She did? Well, isn’t that spontaneous. So unlike her,” your mom muses wryly. “Just like having a secret boyfriend. Older too.” 

“What’s going on?” Your dad’s growl wafts through and you shrunk back behind the doorframe and listen with dread. 

How are they not freaking out? This weirdo forty-year-old is just waltzing right into your house. This isn’t happening. 

“Hello, sir,” Lloyd says before he gives his name, “I’m here to see your daughter.” 

“That would explain the flowers.” 

“Scotch for you and wine for the missus, of course,” Lloyd explains. 

“Hm, that’s... top shelf,” you dad comments. Of course, he would care more about the fancy bottle than his own daughter. “Mitch,” he introduces himself. 

Your mom hollers your name, “you have companyyyyyy.” 

You cringe into yourself. How did he do it? How has he escalated everything so quickly? And why? Because you hung up on him? Because you closed your eyes when he-- 

Ew! 

She calls you again. You put your head back and gather what little courage you have. You turn and step into the hallway. 

“I’m just cooking dinner,” you say. 

“Get over here,” your dad demands. You know better than to disobey. 

“So when were you going to tell us?” Your mother prompts. 

“Tell you what?” You look at Lloyd sheepishly as he spins to face you and grins. 

“About us, sweetie,” he holds out a bouquet of pink roses, “oh, shoot, did I get the wrong day? I’m always forgetting these things, you know? I’m an executive and I have a pretty full calendar--” 

“Executive?” Your father echoes. 

Your mother hums, impressed. 

“We didn’t...” you try to summon a lie but you’re speechless. “Ummmm.” 

“I don’t know why you felt you had to hide us,” your mom challenges. 

“I didn’t? What?” 

“Well, it is about time, isn’t it, Enid?” Your dad intones. 

You gape at Lloyd as he shoves the flowers towards you, “these will need some water, sweetie.” 

You reach for them and look between your parents. You plead silently for help. Aren’t they supposed to protect you? Shouldn’t they be concerned that there’s an old man bringing you gifts? 

“Oh, dear,” your mom says, “do put them in crystal. They are so pretty.” 

“Just like her mother,” Lloyd adds. 

“Eh,” your father grunts playfully, “you could at least pour me a drink before you start flirting with my wife.” 

[bl0odyh3art]

WHAT A SURPRISE.

warnings: incest (uncle/niece), uncle Leon, leon being a freak, non-con, vomit, Leon thinking reader is child until he sees her ??? 😭

this is dead dove/dark content. if are uncomfortable with this kind of content or don't like it, then do not interact.

a/n: ummm idk about this? felt like this was rushed : P

tags ^w^: @bunnyclaire

Leon hasn't seen you since you were around 12, too many missions and meetings to actually pay attention to family. 

Besides, he fucking hated his brother, always stealing his women, but it was Christmas, so why not go see them? He's got nothing better to do than drink his feelings away and pay hookers for a barely good fuck.

He drove all the way down to his brother's house, he got you a coloring book and plushies…but until he knocked on the door, and you answered, in that fucking outfit. 

"Uncle Leon?" you tilted your head. 

Holy shit. That's my fucking niece? He thought

He just nodded, playing it off with the fact he thought you were some hot chick that your mom was friends with, could've almost fucked you right there. 

"Uh, yeah….this is for you." he handed you the three presents, fixing his jacket.

"Wanna come in?" you pointed inside the house. He just nodded. 

Throughout the night, he got more and more touchy with you, his hand on the small of your back, grabbing your hips to move you out the way, but he really just wanted to feel his boner against your ass. 

It was time to open presents. Your other family members got you age appropriate things, underwear, socks, bra's, and just clothes.

It was time to open up your uncle's present! awww, how sweet of him to get you something after all this time!

You unraveled the poorly done wapping paper to find a princess and hello kitty coloring books, a box filled with 25 crayons, and the best yet….an plushie.

You smiled and dryly chuckled while everyone else was laughing their asses off.

Leon was not so proud of himself, rubbing his temple and groaning to himself, walking into the kitchen to get himself some whiskey.

You followed after him. "Leon?" you called out softly to him, hoping he wasn't crying or something. No more 'Uncle Leon! Uncle Leon!' it's just Leon. Just Leon now.

"Yeah, darlin'?" he muttered, leaning against the counter as you sighed and stepped beside him. "You know I'm not a little kid anymore…right?"

He cleared his throat and looked down into his glass "Yeah, yeah….I know"

His brothers walked in. "Hey! Leon!" he threw his arm around Leon's neck and chuckled. "How's my baby brother doing?"

"Fine. I'm good." Leon shook his head and groaned.

"Got yourself a little lady yet?"

"Nope, not yet."

Leon was in the bathroom, wetting his face with water. "Yeah…nice fucking job embarrassing yourself in front of everyone. dumb fuck….. buying your niece kid shit….fuck, fuck, fuck." his mind was a mess.

he wanted to fuck you, but he's your uncle, and he thought you've been a kid for years.

You knocked on the bathroom door. "Hey, you okay in there?"

"Y-yeah…just wait" he grumbled and opened the door.

"Umm…were you talking to yourself?" you tilted your head and slightly squinted your eyes at him.

He wanted to take you in the bathroom right now, bend you over the sink and fuck you like your his and his only.

"No…..uhhh yeah. You got me." he looked at you.He pulled you into the bathroom and just instantly bent you over the sink.

"w-woah…. Leon, wait, wait!" he slapped your ass and lifted the skirt of your dress. "Only sluts wear shit like this…are you a fucking slut?....huh?" he slapped your cheek lightly.

You shook your head "Wh-what?... Leon, what are you….what?"

"No. No. No more Leon….. it's fucking 'uncle'. Got that?" he was in your face, pulling your hair back, so you could look at him.

You quickly nodded as he forced you onto your knees, he struggled to undo his belt and pulled out his dick, smacking the tip on your cheek.

"You're gonna take this like a good girl and there'll be no problems…. understand?" he cooed sternly, slapping the tip against your pouty lips.

He grabbed your jaw to force it open and burry his cock inside your mouth, groaning as he forced your head up and down, making you choke and scratch his thighs. He chuckled and slapped your cheek.

"I said you take this like a good girl." he moaned and hissed a breath in as your teeth scraped his skin slightly

"stupid bitch…." He thrusted too hard, hitting the back of your throat and making you vomit all over his dick, thighs and some even on his bottoms.

"You…..you stupid bitc-!" he stared at you.

On the floor sobbing and hiccuping as you tried to clean him up. Muttering tiny little 'sorries', he sighed and threw you out of the bathroom.

He had to ask his brother for a new pair of pants because he 'accidentally' pissed in his.

You did keep quiet but you wanted more.

So, he fucked you and fucked you until you passed out.

Such an amazing uncle. One of a kind fucked up man.

[notiddygothgf]

8. Addictive

★ pairings: aki hayakawa x fem reader

★ ❝ He took everything from me. ❞ ❝ Then leave him. ❞

★ c.w.: smut. cigarettes and confessions. (more content warnings and tags)

★ a/n: IM BACKKKK! I'm soooo excited for yall to read this. I loved writing this chapter, and im ngl i broke my own heart writing the end of it. (no spoilers tho). my heart yearns for them to be happy but alas i am the writer and i love torturing you guys (jk... kinda....) keep those comments coming! ily all 

★ w.c: .7.2k

shameless ; chapter index

"JUST RELAX, BABY," he mumbled into your dripping wet cunt. His lips departed from your flesh briefly, but only to roughly scoot your ass closer to his face. Then, completely disregarding your concerns, he quickened the pace of his fingers. His hair was tangled in your fist while the rest hung in strings over his face. 

"Let me take care of you," He groaned, the sound muffled by your trembling thighs. "Gonna make you feel real good, promise."

"Mmmfuck– wait," You gasped. Your body, however, gave a different signal. You yanked his hair, and then trapped his head between your thighs with your legs – broken pleas of his name were the only thing coming from your lips. Your legs spasmed once more before you gushed all over his wrist again, spraying him in the face this time. He eagerly licked you up. 

"You look so perfect with my fingers in you, pretty mama," Aki moaned against your clit, but the sound seemed to be swallowed down every time he sucked on the sensitive bud. "Keep going-- doin' so good."

"M'gh... fuck–" You pleaded, sentences reduced to mere gibberish. "Aki, baby..."

He pulled away from your pussy, letting his fingers work you open, pressing deep into your g-spot like he knew your body better than you knew it yourself. "I got you, baby," He panted, peering up at you with such feverish hunger that it made you squirm. "Feel good?"

Desperately, you stumbled to find the right words. What came out, whatever, was a broken cry of "Mhm".

"You feel so fuckin' -- So good–" It slipped out. Truly, you had never intended to let it slip. Yet, still, when his fingers curled up against a particularly sensitive spot with all of the ease of a harpist plucking at the strings of your core, your lips spilled praise of his name. "Aki, I'm g'nna cum, fuck."

"Do it, baby," His smirk grew in size. He licked some of you off of his lips, and then hummed, "Cum for me."

Instantaneously, somehow, his fingers pressed the right spot – just the right amount of pressure – then it snapped. The coil of your release snapped with all of the power of a freight train, your orgasm slamming into you in a way that had your back arching up off of the bed. Your hips jolted up against his fingers and his tongue, lips chanting his name like a mantra while feeling every last stroke of his long fingers against your walls. You could feel the shock tear through you in waves, tearing trembling gasps from your lungs while you rode it out. "Aki!" you gasped again once the pleasure had cleared long enough for you to think. Not your husband, but him. 

It felt so good to breathe his name, to claim him – even if he wasn't necessarily yours. 

"Fuck," You mewled. 

Aki slipped his digits out of you, peering up at you with messy hair, with frazzled eyes. Then, the devil that he was, he popped two of them into his mouth, collecting the gooey mess you had left behind onto his tongue.

"Aki..." You panted – chest heaving a mile a minute. You couldn't stop now, even if you were sore. You needed him, all of him. You didn't need time to recover; you needed him. "Aki, if you don't fuck me right now, I swear to God, I'm going to explode."

"Yeah?" He laughed quietly, breathlessly. The entire bottom half of his face was shiny, soaked with the slick of your arousal. He wiped it on the back of his hand. "How badly do you want it?"

"Bad enough," You huffed. 

"Wanna ride me, baby?" He grinned. It was odd, hearing such vulgar words come out of such a stoic man's mouth. 

"I thought you would never ask," You giggled. "Get your ass up here, Hayakawa."

You didn't have to tell him twice. You shifted over to make room for him on the couch, and he sat right down next to you like he had been waiting his whole life for you to say those words.

He closed the difference between the two of you, hand tilting your chin up so your faces were aligned. Your lips met in the middle in a searing kiss, filled with all the passion and intensity that had been building between the two of you for so long. You couldn't resist.

Your hands found their way to his shoulders as you climbed into a straddling position over him. You paused briefly before tugging his sweater clean off of his body – over his toned arms, thrown off somewhere in the distance, and fuck, you felt weak at the mere sight of him.

You dove back into the kiss, your lips moving hungrily against one another as if this were the last. Time seemed to stand still. Slowly, you felt yourself get lost in him.

Your bodies pressed up against one another, the heat and urgency of your longing evident in every delicate touch. You could feel the gentle ripple of his muscular torso beneath you as he breathed through the kiss. You knew you shouldn't be indulging in him so shamelessly, but you simply couldn't help it.

You didn't care if it was an illusion. He looked so ethereal beneath you, hair splayed out on the couch cusion around his face like a halo. He was so vulnerable, so perfect. 

He raised a hand up to your face, rubbing his thumb over your cheek, "You're so beautiful."

You felt your resolve crumble as you crashed your lips down on his, mouths melding together for what must have been the hundredth time that night. You moaned softly, moving your hands from his waist to the couch beneath his head as you felt him brace his hands on your hips.

You drew a hand back to slip between your heated bodies, tracing the skin of his chest with a new purpose. He was harder than a boulder beneath you, and you couldn't help but rock back and forth.

"Mmh," he hummed happily, letting you explore his body. "Wish you could see yourself from down here."

"And see my double chin? No thanks," You teased, already reaching for the drawstrings on his gray sweats – which, for the record, left absolutely nothing to the imagination. 

He laid back, letting you tug his sweats down just enough for you to be able to spit into your palm and wrap it around him. It didn't take much to get him wet for you, considering he was practically dripping already by that point.

"I wish I could have you like this every day," He muttered, sliding his hands up your waist while he watched you hover over him. This was moving quickly. Not like you had any objections to that, of course. Clearly, he didn't either. 

You didn't grace him with a response, instead positioning the tip in line with your dripping hole and then sinking down on him. 

He gasped, letting his eyes fall shut. You made a sound somewhere between a moan of pleasure and a moan of pain. Once you bottomed out, the two of you sighed in perfect tandem. It took everything you had to not collapse on him right then and there, and just let him sit inside of you for the rest of the night. Hell, for the rest of your life.

He stretched you out perfectly – like he was made for you.

You lifted your hips and then sank down on him again. You were still wet from the last few hours of your night with Aki, yet the filthy squelching sound your cunt made as it squeezed around him caught even you off guard.

"What happened to behaving?" He tutted, though he let you set the pace, sliding back and forth in a way that had the both of you panting for more. The stretch felt amazing – like you could feel him in your stomach. His eyelids fluttered. 

Fucking back onto his dick, you couldn't fight the strangled noises that seemed to pour out. "You're so fuckin' big," You gasped. It took all of the strength you had not to collapse from the force of your tremble as he braced his feet on the couch. 

Sensing your struggle, he fucked up into you, meeting your thrusts in the middle and sliding in even deeper. 

"Fuck, I feel it in my guts," You giggled.

"Fuckk... I missed you," he moaned – sinful, sultry, tantalizing. When you looked down, his brows were scrunched together, face contorted with concentration. 

You felt something odd inside of you as you peered down at him – your heart felt full. You knew it was dangerous.

"Missed you more–" You panted right back. It was an honest mistake. (You were thinking it, though.) You didn't mean for it to come out.

His eyes widened. "Yeah? I- hah," he breathed. "You missed me?"

You nodded.

"Shit," he groaned, arching his head off the back of the pillow. His lips parted to make way for an uncharacteristically high-pitched whimper. "Say it again, please."

Aki laid his head back against the seat, biting his lip. He released a shuddering breath. 

You slid down further and further each time you bounced, feeling yourself stretching around him like you were made for it, like taking it was your job. And then, right when you had gotten about half way down on it, you looked at his pretty face. His pretty face flushed with pink, eyes squeezed shut. His head thrown back, hair beginning to stick to his forehead, sweat beading at the base of his neck.

And then you took him down to the hilt. 

"Ah, shit," He trembled, fingers digging into the meat of your ass. He was beginning to lose his composure. Fast.

You rose up a bit, and then sank back down on him. He was deep, so deep that you could feel your walls fluttering around him. You picked up the speed a bit, rising and sinking on his dick with newfound purpose. The stretch burned – made your eyes water, tears blurring your already weak vision. 

But, fuck, it hurt so good. 

You shut your eyes.

"Look at me," He said. When you came to, he was already looking at you. Eyes half-lidded and desperate, tongue running across his lower lip. "Say it– Say it again. That you missed me."

Those words alone were enough to make you vocalize your desire for him. Still too shy to ask him for more, you bounced obediently on his dick. Up and down, up and down – until you were panting like a bitch in heat. "M-Missed you."

Aki's hips twitched beneath you, hands tensing on your backside. Then, slowly, he began to meet your thrusts – lifting himself up to meet you halfway.

And somehow, if it were even possible, he slid in deeper. 

"Oh, fuck..." You cried. "Missed you so fuckin' badly."

"Is that why you called me?" He sighed happily, thrusting up a little harder. "Couldn't stay away?"

"Yes," You answered. "Yes– Missed you so– fuck! Fuck me harder."

Aki's lip twitched. "Feels good, doesn't it? I told you I'd take care of you." 

Then, with no further warning, he gripped your hips roughly and slid into you at full force. You gasped, reaching for his shoulders. The couch lurched, and you felt yourself move with it. Every quick drag of his dick against your walls had your body squeezing him for dear life. 

Aki groaned, deep and guttural, slowing his thrusts for a minute to a much slower pace. "Fuck," he gasped. "Fuck, that's good."

The man bit his lip, pulling all the way out again before slamming back in. He repeated this action a few more times, clearly relishing in the way you squirmed and gasped. Or maybe it was the way you looked all fucked out like this, bouncing on his dick like it was your job.

You threw your head back. Aki gasped, gripping your hips hard enough to bruise.

You drew your eyebrows in, letting him do the work, letting the pleasure consume you. You felt so full. "Aki, fuck," you moaned. 

Then he was picking up the pace again and you felt like a fucking ragdoll ; up and down, up and down.

"Harder!"

"Yeah?" He stammered. He sought out your lips with a newfound urgency, snapping his hips up against your ass almost mercilessly. His quiet grunts and gasps turned into moans against your sore lips. Louder and louder. 

So much for being quiet. Shit, you didn't know who was worse – him and his pornographic little moans or you. You sounded like you were being murdered.

It had never felt this way with your husband. Shit. You had no idea sex could even feel so mind-numbingly good. So addictive.

Then, like some sort of miracle, you felt him hit that spot inside of you -- the one that made your toes curl. As your eyes widened, a desperate moan was torn from your lungs.

There it was. 

"You got a lot of nerve, walking around here like you didn't miss this," He mused. He kept his hips in the same spot, moving at the same pace, the same angle, while letting his fingers explore your chest beneath your sweater – and then further up, applying pressure to the sides of your neck. "In my fucking sweater. Telling me to behave."

You were going to pass out at this rate. Letting yourself be thrown around on his hips, you took his strokes, eyes glazed over with mind-numbing pleasure.

And with every thrust, that familiar knot in your stomach began to grow again. You were – for lack of better words – in another realm. You felt yourself get lost in the sensation. Your surroundings dissipated. At that moment, all you saw was his angelic face below you, eyebrows scrunched together, sweat rolling down his scarred chest, lips parted to make way for those sinful, wonderful noises of his. Every time he moved, his muscles tensed and rippled beneath his skin. 

It was breathtaking. He was breathtaking

In your head, there was no room for your husband. This pussy was his.

His hand gripped your throat – using his thumb to cut off your blood supply for seconds at a time before loosening his grip, letting you gasp for air as the blood came rushing back.

"Don't fucking stop," You cried out for him, "Fuck– don't you dare fucking stop."

"You're taking me so well," He grunted against your neck. His teeth nipped at the sensitive skin. "So good. Like you were made for it."

He reached for your throat again, and you felt your eyes roll back. You felt lightheaded, and dizzy, and it was almost too much. You were getting close.

Sparing him another glance, you quickly realized how much you wished you hadn't done that. Those lust-filled blue eyes of his were burning with a desire so intense you felt yourself grow even more sensitive – full of nothing but adoration for you, like you were spat out from the heavens onto his lap.

Then, without so much as another word, he stood up, throwing your legs around his waist and taking you with him. He walked you over to the arm rest, laying you down so that your head laid atop the couch cushions and your hips were inclined on the armrest. Then, he spread your legs open and guided himself right back into you.

He bottomed out inside of you once more, but it was different this time. At this angle, he had you seeing stars. At this angle, he found your sweet spot with every single thrust. His brutal speed was unrelenting. Eyes unfocused, your nails scratched at the surface of the couch, searching desperately for something to grab onto while he abused your sore pussy, fucking you like his life depended on it.

"Aki, fuck me!" You gasped out, clutching his bicep for dear life. 

He threw your legs over his shoulders. "Don't worry, I got you, baby."

His hips threw you forward onto the couch. A glass tumbled off the coffee table and fell to the floor, shattering loudly as it collided with the ground. 

"Wait– " you managed to get out. "Wait, I think some– ah– somethin' fell!"

Aki didn't so much as check on the table (where your cookies sat on a plate, long since forgotten, just like the horror movie that was well near finished.).

You felt bad for his neighbors, at this point, because your moans had become a lot more similar to screams in lieu of recent events (recent events, of course, being Aki's goal of repossessing your ability to walk tomorrow). This angle was lethal, and it had your vision going spotty.

"Good girl," he hummed. "Good fucking girl."

And there it was again. The overwhelming, uncontrollable urge to give him everything – your body, your heart. You wanted him to claim you. You wanted to belong to him. 

You wanted to be his, and you hated it.

You were so fucking close to the edge, all you could do was scream his name, letting your eyes roll into the back of your head while he fucked you hard and fast – nothing like the way he had fucked you when the two of you had first hooked up.

"This pussy belongs to me, doesn't it?" He smirked, pressing a kiss to your knee. 

Don't give into him.

Have some decorum.

You couldn't take it anymore. The pleasure was far too much to bear. It was making your fucking mind go blank. 

"You're not cumming until I tell you that you can," He practically commanded you.

You bit back a moan, feeling your legs begin to tremble again with the weight of your impending release. You were close, too close to resist the promise of paradise between your legs, in your core. You raked your eyes up his bare, chiseled chest – his pale, glossy skin, watching as his mouth parted to release a few shaky breaths. The muscles in his abdomen tensed up.

Guess I'm not the only one getting close to losing it.

"Can he fuck you better than I can?" He gasped out, landing another smack on your thighs. 

Mentioning your husband while he was blowing your back out was a low blow. Still, though...

"No, baby, no–" you pleaded. "No, he can't, I swear!" You were desperate to finish, crawling towards your release with the last strength you had left. "'S yours! This pussy is yours!"

His.

You had always been his, hadn't you? The little game of cat-and-mouse the two of you had been playing for so long – the hidden motives, the stolen glasses, the hushed whispers... it all led up to this.

"Mine," He purred, deep and buttery-smooth, and the sound of it almost made you cum right then and there. "You getting close, baby?"

Blissfully, you let the pleasure take over you. "Mhm."

"That's why you can't stop comin' back," He added, "Who else is gonna fuck you like me?"

You gasped out, clawing at the couch, "No one!"

The sensation of being filled to the brim was driving you up the wall. 

"That's fuckin' right– Oh, fuck– Cum with me," He gritted out, persisting and chasing after the promise of paradise. 

You hadn't even noticed, but his thumb had begun rubbing circles on your clit – it had been doing that for a while now. 

Being in no position to refuse, you obeyed. For the second time that day, the coil snapped, and your hips jolted rhythmically against him. You felt your walls clench around his dick, a sensation that made him lurch forward and reach his own orgasm, warmth coating your insides.

"Fuck!" You gasped. You felt your legs tremble at the sensation, walls milking him for all he was worth, ankles clawing at his back.

"You're so good for me," He murmured weakly against your lips, rolling into you – slowly – a few more times before stilling completely. He pulled out only a moment later, then he slid you up on the couch, crawling over the armrest until he was hovering over you, pinning you to the cushions.

You kissed him with every bit of strength you had left – which, admittedly, wasn't much. He grabbed you by the jaw, deepening the kiss. And it was in that warm embrace the two of you stayed for a while, sharing a few messy, open-mouthed kisses. It certainly wasn't the first time, but it felt different.

It was different this time. It was so much more than a post-sex makeout session. 

It was everything. Everything you'd been wanting. Everything you'd needed.

He was everything you needed.

So you continued making out with him, holding him, kissing him until your lips felt numb. Until he pried himself away from you – but didn't go too far, pressing his nose up against yours with a weak, satisfied grin.

"That was the best I've ever had," You remarked quietly. "I don't think I've ever cum that hard in my entire life."

"I can't even think straight right now," He laughed. 

Playfully, you retorted. "Can you ever think straight around me?"

He breathed out a quiet laugh – the sound made your heart squeeze – while leaning in to steal another kiss. "Fuck no," And then another. "But you must enjoy it, because you keep coming back."

"Unfortunately," You sighed. "I'd say that's, like... the only reason I tolerate you."

"What? Because I can fuck you better than anyone else?" He laughed, still a little breathless. "'Don't act like you weren't crying out "I missed you", like, ten minutes ago."

"Maybe I did," You retorted. "You and that big dick of yours."

"If that's what keeps you coming, then I'll keep you cumming," He added. He flopped down next to you. "Does my cooking make up for the week we spent apart?"

"Maybe," you hummed, too blissed out to fully participate in the conversation. 

He pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead, murmuring, "I missed you, troublemaker."

You had just enough energy left to mutter the words, "Missed you, too," before passing out on the couch.

You stood in front of a tall mirror in the bedroom, adjusting the straps of a sexy red dress you hadn't worn in years. The fabric hugged your curves, soft against your skin, and you twirled, hoping to feel cute, desirable, like you used to.

But then your husband entered the room, and you knew something was off. He didn't smile, didn't offer the compliment you were silently hoping for. Instead, he stared at you with a strange mix of amusement and disdain.

"Are you really going to wear that?" he asked, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Your heart sank. "Why? What's wrong with it?"

He let out a short, humorless laugh. "You've put on weight. That dress... it's not flattering on you at all."

The words hit you like a slap, and you felt the air rush out of your lungs. You tried to hold onto your composure, to not let the hurt show, but it was impossible. The confidence you had been clinging to crumbled in an instant, leaving you feeling completely exposed.

"Fine," you huffed, your voice shaky as you turned away from him. "I'll go change."

You woke up in an unfamiliar, but surprisingly comfortable bed. The sheets were soft against your skin, a gentle warmth cocooning you, but something about the room felt off, foreign, but not at all disconcerting. The crisp white comforter you were swaddled in carried an aroma – notes of spice, amber, and the faintest hint of smoke – very distinct to someone particular.

Blinking sleep from your eyes, you slowly rolled out of bed, your feet meeting the cool floor. Immediately the warm drip between your thighs reminded you what you had done just a moment earlier. Your panties were on, though. Did Aki... put them back on for you?

How thoughtful.

Quietly, you padded towards the living room, your footsteps barely making a sound. The TV was off, the soft glow of the night outside filtering through the curtains. You noticed the table had been cleaned up, everything put away except for the plate of cookies, which now sat on the kitchen table, untouched.

You paused for a moment, glancing around before your eyes were drawn to the glass doors leading to the porch. Through the glass, you saw Aki standing outside, the faint glow of a cigarette illuminating a sliver of his face in the dim light. He was leaning against the railing, his posture relaxed as he took a slow drag, the smoke curling around him in the cool night air. The faint breeze tousled his silky black hair.

He was so fucking handsome, it wasn't even funny.

For a moment, you just stood there, watching him. There was something peaceful, almost serene, about the way he stood there, clearly lost in his thoughts. Selfishly, you wondered if you were the only person occupying his mind.

You approached the plate of cookies tentatively. Were his roommates home? (Judging by the fact that all of the cookies were still very much intact and, from what Aki had told you, his roommates would never leave a plate of food untouched, you ventured to say no.) You plucked an extra-soft-looking one off of the tray, then tip-toed over to the glass sliding door anyway, pulling it open and slipping onto the balcony.

It was quiet outside. So quiet, in fact, that – save for the quiet noises of the Tokyo streets down below – you could hear the cherry of his cigarette sizzle as he took a slow, relaxed hit of it.

Aki didn't even have to turn around to know it was you. "Hey," he offered.

"Hey," You smiled softly, "What time'sit?"

Bare, cold feet pressed against the ground, you walked up to the railing, leaning against it right next to him.

"Sometime past midnight. Why?" He breathed out, smoke pouring out from between his pretty lips, "Do you wanna go back to your hotel?"

"Not really. It's getting kinda late," You sighed. You folded your arms over the railing, laying your head down atop them, "But I'd hate to overstay my welcome."

"You can stay here as long as you like, whenever you'd like," He hummed. He drummed his fingers against the balcony. "Stay the night. I can take you back tomorrow."

You took a bite out of the cookie. Then another, and another – and then it was gone. "We have that... that meeting tomorrow, don't we?"

"We do," He sighed, as if he, too, had forgotten about his responsibilities. Then, after a pause, he pinched his cigarette between two fingers, pulling you closer to him by your arm. It wasn't until the two of you were pressed chest-to-chest that he was content, wrapping his long, strong arms around your shoulders, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, "We'll figure that out later, though. Just stay with me tonight."

He made a compelling argument. You pressed your nose deeper into the fabric of his sweater, inhaling his scent (and maybe motorboating him, just a little). Instead of answering, you wrapped your arms around his waist. For a moment, you could forget about the rest of the world. As long as you were here with him, buried in his arms, his chest, you were safe. 

You wished you could stay like this forever – nose buried in his sweater while he held you close to him. 

One of Aki's hands left your side so that he could take another puff of his cigarette. His chest rose against your cheek as he held it in, fell as he breathed it out. 

His words were a deep vibration against your ear, "Himeno was right. You are bad for me."

"And that thing you're smoking isn't?" You retorted. "Can't be worse than that."

"It can," He answered back calmly. "That's the problem."

You knit your brows together at that, peeking your head up so that you could peer up at him. Wordlessly, you asked him to elaborate.

Aki sighed, shutting his eyes, like it pained him to speak. Then, he uttered, "I don't think we should keep seeing each other after this."

​​Your heart dropped at his words, a cold wave of disbelief washing over you. For a moment, it was as if the air had been sucked out of your lungs, leaving you breathless. But you fought to tough it out, to keep your voice steady, even as a sharp ache settled in your chest.

"What?" you managed to ask, your voice barely above a whisper. "Why?"

Aki didn't answer immediately, and the silence between you was heavy, oppressive. His hand that had been resting on your side stilled, and you felt him tense against you. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke, his voice low and strained.

"Because I'm getting attached," he confessed, each word carrying a weight that pressed down on you. "I think I'm falling for you."

Your breath hitched, and you instinctively backed away from him, your arms loosening from around his waist. You needed to see his face to understand what he was really saying. 

"You think or you know?" you asked, more forceful this time, betraying the slightest tremble in your voice.

Aki opened his eyes, meeting your gaze with a mixture of regret and something deeper, something you couldn't quite name. His silence was louder than any words could have been, the truth hanging in the air between you, undeniable and painful.

"I know," he finally admitted, the confession heavy with finality. He looked at you with a softness that made your heart ache even more. 

This is bad.

This is very bad, you thought. In fact, the only thing that made it worse was the fact that you found yourself caught somewhere between happy and devastated that he returned your feelings. What should you do? Should you run away? Run towards him? Say fuck it and pour your heart out?

"Shit," You sighed.

"I know," He nodded slowly, wrapping his lips around the butt of his cigarette and taking a deep breath. "Look, I don't... expect you to return my feelings. I know you've got a life back in Kyoto, and if you wanna pretend this entire conversation never happened, then I'm okay with that," He turned to you, breathing smoke out to the side, into the evening air, "But just... I can't keep pretending I don't want something more than sex from you. It's bad for me."

You couldn't think of anything to say. No, you could think of a thousand things to say, but would it be good enough? 

There was no possible combination of words that could convey your feelings. So, instead, you looked down on the street below – the cars and their dim, red lights, the people passing by – and you said nothing.

"I'm sorry," He offered after a beat.

"Why are you sorry?" You asked, gaze never once straying from the scenery. If you looked at him, you didn't know what would happen. Would everything – all of the feelings you'd been bottling up – come pouring out?

"Because I ruined everything," He uttered. His eyes were terribly sad, downcast like a rainy blue day as he continued to smoke. "This thing we have going on."

You huffed a quiet breath, shaking your head, "I don't know what to say."

After a pause, Aki ashed the end of the cigarette, "You don't have to say anything."

"But, I do," You trailed off, "I have so much to say, and yet, I can just... I don't want to say it."

"Why not?" He implored you.

"Because," You sighed, "If I say it, then it'll be real."

You turned to him, finally, and you wished you hadn't – he was looking at you like you had the entire universe and all of its stars trapped behind your eyes. Like you were everything that mattered to him.

Like you were everything he ever wanted.

"I figured that if I left it alone for a while, then it would go away, but..." Your voice trickled down to a whisper – it was difficult to continue the conversation when he was staring at you so lovingly, "You were right, earlier. I did miss you. More than I should have."

The words were painful as they slipped off of you tongue, invaded the space between your body and his. His eyes were windows into a calm shore, tranquil blue waves licking at the shore – and, gently, they searched your gaze for an answer you simply couldn't provide. The remains of his cigarette smoldered between his finger tips.

Similarly, the agony of your confession came in waves, sending tears prickling at the corners of your eyes.

"I was thinking about you every day we were apart, and I felt like the worst fucking person in the entire fucking world because," You choked back what sounded like a sob. Your chest was tight, so tight – it hurt to breathe around him. Finally, you broke, "Every time I looked into my husband's eyes, all I could think about were yours."

It was true. Every single last word of it. 

He stood before you broken, pretty eyes watering. Still, like the champ he was, he kept his composure.

You wished you shared his ability to do that so effortlessly. Chest heaving, you began to cry.

"He's so terrible to me, Aki," You sobbed, rubbing the tears away from your eyes like that would stop them from coming out, "It's my fault I settled down so fucking early, and I was supposed to be a good wife and– and deal with the consequences of the life that I chose." Clawing at your chest – at his sweater – you added, "He wants me to retire when I come back from this trip so I can be his housewife. I don't wanna go, Aki. I don't wanna lose what little freedom I have left."

Aki furrowed his brows, frowning softly as he took a hit of his cig, "You don't want to settle down?"

"With him? I thought I did, years and years ago, but I was dumb and stupid and young and–" You gasped, "I never had someone to intervene and tell me to slow down when I was young, but you– you..."

He looked at you so tenderly, so lovingly, that you had to pause to regain your decorum. 

"I hate that I miss you– that I want you, that I crave you," You choked out – as if the words were ripped from the very depths of your soul, blinking up at him with teary eyes, "I wanna leave it all behind sometimes and just– just– say 'fuck it'and run away with you. I'd give it all up in a heartbeat– all of it, and that scares me, because you could be gone tomorrow and I'd just be–" You sobbed, "A fucking trainwreck!"

You began to cry again, shoulders trembling with the weight of your sobs. Aki tutted softly, wrapping his arms around you once more and holding you tight to his chest. His arms were a large warmth that surrounded you, muffled the sounds of the city streets until his steady heartbeat was all you could hear – the deep timbre of his voice as he spoke so sweetly to you;

"I would never leave. I'll always be there for you."

Then he exhaled, breathing the scent of nicotine into the evening air.

You wished you could believe him. Though he had done nothing to disprove his loyalty to you, you couldn't help the slightest pang of pain you felt when you imagined him leaving you for someone younger, prettier... better.

"He took my youth, Aki," You sniffed. He smelled like home. "He took everything from me. God, I hate him."

Simply, he said, "Then, leave him."

"I can't," You sighed – something between a humorless chuckle and a sob prying itself from your chest, "I feel so trapped. My whole life has revolved around him for so long I–" You wiped your eyes, "I'd have to start all over again."

"Then start over again," He answered simply, again. His hand slid up from the base of your neck to the side of your face, thumb swiping your tears away oh-so gently, "You don't have to cry. We can figure it out together, yeah?"

You wanted to.

You wanted to do that so fucking bad.

Why couldn't you?

You deserved it.

"But I don't know what I feel," You retorted. How could he speak to you like you were anything less than a complete wreck? How could he speak to you like he wanted to sort it out? "I know there's something there between us. I think– I think I've had feelings for you, too, but I didn't want to label it, because that will make it real–"

"You don't have to know what you feel," He offered in response, wrapping his arms around you a little tighter, until the unique combination of notes that made up his scent flooded your nostrils, "Just let yourself feel it. I'm here for you whenever you need me, okay? No need to label it."

"No, that's not fair to you," You shook your head, but wrapped your arms around his lower back anyway, "I can't keep stringing you along when I don't even know where I'm at. You're right – it's not good for you."

Aki raised a brow, slightly humored by your words – as was evident by the teasing lilt in his words, "You just said you had feelings for me. That you'd leave your life with your husband behind to be with me. That everytime you look into his eyes, you wish they were mine instead. That sounds pretty clear to me."

You exhaled sharply, exasperated, "But, I don't know what–"

"You don't have to know what it means," He answered before you could even ask the question, "All you have to know is that they're there. We don't have to put a name on anything, right now – or make any big decisions just yet."

"Then what?" You swallowed. Your throat was dry. "What should we do now?"

"Enjoy the ride," Was his response. "However long it lasts. Tomorrow isn't promised, anyway, right?"

"I can't even promise you tomorrow," You replied. "My entire life is a mess right now."

"Are you busy tomorrow?" He asked, stepping back. His lips wrapped around the cigarette. Tentatively, he pulled another hit from it.

"No. Why?"

Aki shrugged, breathing smoke out into the air, "Then we'll take it one day at a time. No need to cry, okay?"

He was so kind to you – his gentle words were so starkly different to your husband's much harsher ones. Your heart thrummed wildly in your chest. Your lungs were moving way faster than they reasonably should have been moving.

So, after a few minutes – when the tears had subsided and it was nothing but you and him pressed up against one another on his silent balcony – you pointed at his cigarette (what little was left of it, anyway), commenting, "I kinda wanna try another one. Is that crazy?"

Aki laughed at that, instinctively reaching up to his lips with the cigarette to take a puff, "Nah, but why bother? You're gonna hack it up again."

"So?" You asked. "I haven't craved a cigarette in years before you came along."

"I'm a bad influence on you, aren't I?" He mused quietly. His hand ghosted over your neck, leaving goosebumps in its wake, gripping your chin and gently tilting your gaze up to meet his eyes. "I have a better idea."

You raised a brow at his antics. Wordlessly, he took a long, lazy drag or his cigarette. His thumb tugged down on your lower lip, begging for entry – which you provided obediently. 

He was the image of sin, pretty blues half-lidded and trained on the place where his calloused thumb met your lip. He brought your face closer to his slowly, like he was trying to gauge your feelings before he made his move. 

Then – when his mouth brushed delicately against yours – he tugged your lip open in tandem with his own, breathing the smoke into your mouth.

You breathed it in – you didn't choke on it this time, but, rather, welcomed it. You welcomed the stream of smoke that flowed from his mouth into yours. Eyelids fluttering shut, you held it in, breathing it out just as slowly as it had entered you.

Aki's gaze flickered between your eyes and your lips. Then – though you weren't entirely sure who had moved first – he closed the gap and sealed his lips to yours.

It was slow, this time, a hot, open-mouthed kiss. His tongue slipped into your mouth, and you clutched at his shoulders. It was sloppy and it left you feeling lightheaded, high off of the taste of him. 

With a quiet moan, your lips slipped against his, tangling your fingers in his hair, gripping the fabric of his sweater.

He pulled away slowly (probably sensing that this would escalate just as quickly as the last kiss had, and that you were still feeling a little sore), keeping his long fingers cupped around your cheek, toying mindlessly with the hairs at the side of your face.

You hummed contentedly, "I'm not sure what's more addictive; you or those cigarettes."

Aki's lips curled into a devilish little smirk, taking one last drag of his cigarette. "Put me in your mouth and you'll find out."

Right now, I'd like nothing more than that, You thought, but chose not to voice those thoughts.

Instead, you laughed, placing your hands on his strong shoulders and giving him a playful shove. It was all so painfully domestic – enough to make you forget about the rest of the world, your husband, your life in Kyoto.

Then, you stepped behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist, burying your head in between his shoulder blades. You took a deep whiff of his detergent (or cologne?), and thought, I could easily get used to this.

Like this, I could easily fall in love with him.

That thought was intimidating enough as it was. But, then, as he placed his hand over your hands where they were clasped around the front of his torso – and sighed peacefully – you found yourself thinking:

I never want this to end.

a/n: WHAT DID YALL THINKKKKKKKK! tehehe. I loved this chapter and i could NOT WAIT to release it. i just want my babies to be happy. thank you again for all of your support on this story! i'll have that new part out soon i swear!! mama loves yall, muah x.

credits: UNKOWN ATM. I found the cover pic on pinterest unfortch. If you know the artist, please let me know, so I can credit them properly for their work!!! This is NOT MY BEAUTIFUL DRAWINGGG. I obviously do not own csm or anything related to it. please do not reproduce, copy, or translate my works anywhere. dont fk w me im a bruja.

also: come find me on my wattpad if u wanna interact more!

taglist: @mitsuyeahhh , @sleepysnk , @enneadec , @noaabean , @em1e , @drakensdarling , @bertholdts--butt , @satanlovesusall666 , @mitsuwuyaa , @noctifule , @scaraphobia , @ask-the-insect-hashira , @lovingranchturkeyweasel , @bontensbabygirl , @slvdsjjk , @novacrystalli , @hanmastattoos , @kodzuksn , @hqtiny , @ohmaiscool15 , @redlittlequeen , @leivane , @goldeneagles-posts , @yeahblahlame , @no-oneelsebutnsu , @cookiesandcreammy , @cawwn , @the-haitani-baton , @littlelovebug98 , @armani78 , @mindurownbussines , @kokos-property , @violetmatcha , @hp-simp505 , @acethebrave , @mitsuyeahhh , @sleepysnk , @enneadec , @noaabean , @em1e , @drakensdarling , @bertholdts--butt , @satanlovesusall666 , @mitsuwuyaa , @noctifule , @scaraphobia , @ask-the-insect-hashira , @lovingranchturkeyweasel , @bontensbabygirl , @slvdsjjk , @novacrystalli , @hanmastattoos , @kodzuksn , @hqtiny , @ohmaiscool15 , @redlittlequeen , @leivane , @goldeneagles-posts , @yeahblahlame , @no-oneelsebutnsu , @cookiesandcreammy , @cawwn , @the-haitani-baton , @littlelovebug98 , @armani78 , @mindurownbussines , @kokos-property , @violetmatcha , @hp-simp505

wanna join the taglist? | shameless ; chapter index

[astermath]

nemesis; part two.

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader

summary: with carmen reworking the restaurant, you’d think his mind would be far too occupied to even think about anything else. yet he can’t shake the guilt from what he’d put you through a month prior. after some talks in therapy, he decides to take a leap of faith and see if he can talk it out with you. he not only wants to convince you that he can be better, but he's got an offer for you too. one you truly can't refuse.

♡ landing page ♡

word count: 4.9K

tags: carmen being unsure about his feelings but trying to be better episode 3265742, letting reader in a little more, APOLOGIES!!!, cursing ig, carm goes to therapy yippee, syd being the absolute realest, regular font below!

notes: sorry this took literally forever omg, I lost my carmen muse for a bit but we are SO back baby. I missed him so much and so sorry if some things don't follow the canon completely (I've been watching season 2 on and off bc I've been so busy lol BUT my fics never follow the canon completely anyways),, hope u guys enjoy and let me know if you'd like a part three ;))

lmk if you'd like to be added to the tag list for further carmen berzatto related content! comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!

Carmen’s life hadn’t known a moment of mental rest in ages. If you asked him when he last sat down with his thoughts or acknowledged his mental anguish, he probably would have said he couldn’t remember the last time. If ever.

With plans to completely revamp The Beef and everything that came with it, now his feelings should be the last thing on his mind. Renovation plans, unforeseen costs and a completely new menu, sure, he could worry his ass off about those, but feelings? Absolutely not. Good thing he was usually so good at suppressing those anyways.

So why was it that he couldn’t shake the thought of what he did to you?

Why, every time he had a moment to himself, would he be overtaken by this intense feeling of guilt? He didn’t even have to be alone, just a second of quiet and the image of you crying in distress would intrude on his thoughts.

It was getting to a point where he’d told his sister, Natalie, about it. Well, not all of it, he wasn’t even sure if he knew all of it. Just that he knows he hurt you, and that coming to terms with what he projected onto you might be a good first step in understanding himself better.

Or maybe it was something more along the lines of “I gotta talk my shit to some people”. Probably that.

To his surprise, it was actually helping. Besides the group therapy sessions where he’d talk about Mikey, the business and his future, he was talking to other people in his life too. Even told Sydney about you, kind of on accident. The words just seemed to… Flow out. It was probably the exhaustion doing its thing.

“I guess I just felt like,” he kept his eyes on the floor he was sweeping, “she was doing it all to fuck with me. I don’t even know where I got the sick idea that she had some obsession over me, but it— it drove me at the same time. It’s like her being on my heels at every aspect of culinary school just made me want to try even harder.”

“Maybe you painted her in that light because you knew it was a good way to keep pushing yourself.” Sydney spoke almost absentmindedly, sweeping the other side of the room. She listened to everything he said in the meantime, and though what he was telling her was a bit worrying, she was glad they got to have talks like this. Carmen often doesn’t like to bring up his past like that.

“Huh,” he paused sweeping for a moment, “yeah… yeah, maybe. Or maybe it was something else.”

Sydney wasn’t even sure he knew what he was referring to. It sounded like something entirely different, like a crush, but what kind of person treats their crushes like that?

Probably an overworked, pressured, overachieving culinary student with a dangerous need for validation. But she wasn’t about to tell him that.

“So yeah, I visited her restaurant, and… It just felt the exact same as back in New York, you know? Like she was rubbing it in my face again, and— and I know that sounds insane, or conceited, but I just can’t let it go. It’s like the thought of her is stuck to my brain like a stubborn piece of gum.” He wanted to smack himself for that stupid analogy, but what was said was said.

“So how’d you handle it?” Sydney’s head perked up, some of her braids now draping over her shoulders.

“Handle what?” Carmen became more and more uneasy the more he talked about you. Like his chest was tight, it was uncomfortable, but not in the way he was when the health inspection came by, it was different. Weirder. Unfamiliar. He didn’t like it, because he didn’t understand it.

“The talk with her.” She emptied the last bit of dust into the trash bag.

“Oh,” his mind took him back to the parking lot a month ago. The way he could almost taste the tears of your skin from how close he stood, he could hear the shakiness of your breath and the profound desperation in your voice when you apologized to him, when you really had no reason to.

If it was still so clear in his mind, then what must it be like for you?

“Carmen?” Sydney snapped him out of his oncoming train of thought.

“Yeah? Sorry, I— Uh, I don’t know it was…” He runs a hand through his hair, suddenly finding it in his best interest to look anywhere else but her face. “Bad. It was— It was bad.” He looks a bit shameful when he meets her eyes. “I fucked up. I like, went all New York boss on her. And then I just… Left.”

His colleague just stares at him for a moment. She knew what he was like when he snapped like that, but that was with his staff, people he liked. So how badly did he snap on you, a person he’d been resenting for years?

“I’m gonna go take out this trash, and uh… Head home.” She lifts the grey plastic bag she was holding. “But uh, Carm?”

“Yeah?”

“You got issues, man.” She has a bit of an awkward smile on her face, but he knows she means it. He knows she’s right. She usually is.

He nods, silently, letting her words sink in. He did have issues, everyone knew that, but most people didn’t just say it. That’s why he liked Sydney, she was so real, so honest. She was so good for the business, for the kitchen. And maybe her saying that to him was all part of grounding him in the reality of it all. Of his issues, just that they existed.

“Heard.” he says. His voice comes out raspier than he expected, like he’s struggling to say it.

“Goodnight, chef.”

“Night.”

He’d thought about what Sydney said the entire night. He does have issues, he knows that, he’s just mad at himself for letting everything get this far before seeking help. It scares him. Because it reminds him too much of Mikey. Or what he heard about him when things got bad.

He doesn’t want to make the same mistakes his brother did. Lock people out of his life just because it seems easier, because it’s better to minimize the damage than to figure out why you’re doing damage at all. And yes it’s uncomfortable, yes it’s scary, terrifying even. But he keeps being reminded of how it must feel for you.

It’s something he’d never considered before. He always thought he had you all figured out, all fake smiles and backhanded compliments to distract him. It never occurred to him to just… Ask. It was always just easier to assume. It fit his view of you and it kept him going, even if it was at the expense of ever getting to know you at all.

He’s hoping he can change that with a few text messages and a long, probably uncomfortable, talk over coffee. Just hoping, trying, that’s really all he can do. He’s well aware of how bad he is at communicating, but he has to give it a shot. For you, at least.

He stares at his phone screen for far longer than is necessary, continuously rereading the messages he’d typed. His eyes keep flicking to your contact, making sure he sent it to the right person. The only thing you two had texted about before was a time and place for him to try your new restaurant. His heart aches at the exclamation points and emojis you’d sent; you were so excited, and he drove all that excitement straight into the ground.

He closes his eyes and shuts off the phone. His chest hurts, like he’s been holding his breath the entire time. Maybe he has. You could have that effect on him, making it harder to breathe. He always wondered why he had such nervous reactions around you specifically. He always figured it had to do with your one sided rivalry, but it feels… Different. More complex.

Your eyes are finally peeled off your computer screen when numerous phone notifications alarm you. Truth be told, you’ve been trying your best to keep yourself occupied as much as possible. That usually helps when you get waves of emotions like this, keeping busy, distracting your mind from overthinking.

Ever since your last encounter with Carmen, you’ve been so on edge. Always trying to do something, anything, so you wouldn’t have to think about what happened, why he acted like that to you. Because you know if you did, you’d just start blaming yourself again, and you’d be back to square one.

Your eyebrows raise at the name of the contact. You were sure he’d blocked you, or at least deleted your number after last time. He was avoidant like that, and frankly, you weren’t sure if you wanted him to talk to you again after that anyways. Maybe it was just to drive the point home, make you feel even more worthless.

Still, you were curious. Even if it was just to cuss you out even more, at least you knew what to expect, right?

[carmen]: hey, I really want to talk to you about what happened last time.

[carmen]: well

[carmen]: I want to apologise

[carmen]: but I can’t do that like this

[carmen]: I’d much rather do it in person

[carmen]: if you’d let me

[carmen]: meet me at odette’s tomorrow around 10? coffee’s on me, I just want to talk

[carmen]: please

The last message was sent minutes later than the rest, while you were reading them. He was desperate for an answer, and though you wanted to hear him out, to talk to him, something in you felt off about the whole thing. Like he was just doing this to clear off his own guilt, only to then ditch you just like he ditched you after culinary school. Because you’re rivals, apparently. That’s what you do.

But then there’s something else in you too. The part that’s still nostalgic about New York with him. About the glances back and forth when you were timed on preparing certain things, about the way he’d stare at you when you got feedback, the ignorant bliss you lived in. When you still believed he might have liked you just a little.

That part of you takes the upper hand when you reply and take his offer. Your heart is in your throat, nerves overtaking you already and you weren’t even with him yet. He had that effect on you sometimes, making it harder to breathe.

You wondered what that meant.

Carmen sits alone at a booth, all the way at the back of the café he’d chosen. It’s rather quiet, as most Mondays are, yet at the same time, it’s so loud. Loud in the way he hears the clinking of every spoon against porcelain cups, the crinkling of a napkin and the not so subtle ticking of the clock above the entrance. 10:06. You were late.

Suddenly he's filled with more regret than he's ever felt before. He's not ready to see you again, only to be reminded of how he made you cry, and of his own tumultuous emotions and shortcomings that lead to this moment. It's surprising how fast the emotions he associates with you changed; he's not angry anymore, he's scared, guilty, nervous. He wants to see you so bad and yet he feels like you'd be better off never talking to him again.

It's too late to make a run for it when you finally walk through the door. Hair a little damp from the rain, just a bit disheveled from what he could only assume to be rushing over to the café. And that same angelic smile you offer to the barista that greets you, the same one you'd offer him every morning, whether he looked at you or not.

He had no choice but to look now.

Your smile falters into something more nervous, a little melancholic, when your eyes meet his across the café. Though you knew he was going to be there, something in you feels surprised to see him again. Maybe it’s because he isn’t yelling at you or throwing insults at your head this time. Or maybe because he’s actually looking you in the eye. Since when did he get so good at that?

You sit down across him, taking off your coat and putting your bag besides you.

“Hey.” You smile again, much more awkward this time.

“Hey.” He returns the same thin lipped smile.

It’s quiet for a few seconds. Carmen swears the whole café has gone silent in that moment, leaving the two of you to listen to the sound of your own breathing and heartrate picking up. You’re not sure where to look, not being used to being in such an intimate setting with him.

“Do you want a coffee?”

“Sorry I was late.”

You both talk over each other, and the urge to chuckle about it overtakes you. Carmen can’t help but smile as well. You seem nervous, and somehow that puts him a little more at ease. Like he’s not the only one who’s in their head about it.

“Sorry, I, uhm, yeah— I would like a coffee.” You scramble over your words. “Please.”

“Sure,” he nods, “and no worries.”

“Hm?”

“That you were late. I haven’t been here that long either.” He lied. He’d been there half an hour early, cursing himself for letting him sit along with his thoughts for that long and psyching himself out into almost leaving.

You both order and another heavy silence sits between you two. You both know why you’re there, what needs to be talked about. Yet neither of you know how to bring it up.

You’ve lived most of your lives believing this version of each other you had in your minds. Because it kept you grounded. Because it was easier. He never let you in and for the longest time, you were at peace with that. You could have a slightly distant view of who he was, your classmate, your rival. And he could do the same. Keep you out, pretend you were there to keep him on his toes, to always try to outdo him.

Those facades of each other don’t work anymore. The real world has forced you to reconcile with each other, whether you liked it or not.

Your coffee gets brought to your table, and both of you feel this urgency to say something, anything, at least.

“The pastries here are good too, if you want to get one.” He finally broke the awkward silence. He can start with talking about food, something he knows. If all else fails, resort back to that.

“I haven’t tried a pastry besides my own in a long time. Maybe I could learn a thing or two here.” You admit. He knows that feeling. He’s not nearly as adventurous with his food choices as he wants to be, but as a busy chef on the brink of a new entrepreneurship, it’s usually beef sandwiches and frozen meals.

“I think yours were better though.” He takes a sip of his coffee.

“Huh?” You look up, realizing you were avoiding eye contact by staring into your cup.

“The danish I tried at your place. It was fire.”

“Oh. Right. Thank you, we make everything from scratch.”

“I could tell.” He takes another sip. “I guess I— I kinda forgot to tell you that. In the heat of it all.” He huffs to himself. “Food was so good it made me upset.”

“Upset?” His word use frustrates you. Upset is when they forget to give you your sauce with your order. What happened back there was not upset. That was rage. Wrath. You raise an eyebrow and he realizes he said something wrong.

“Well, more than upset. Listen, I— We need to talk about what happened.” His blue eyes peer into your own. They’re almost distracting enough to avoid you noticing his fidgeting hands.

“I’m listening.” You lean back slightly in your seat. You’d played nice with Carmen all your life, given him every chance to return it. Now it was his turn to try.

"Right." Of course he has to talk. It's his fault, isn't it? He's the one who snapped-- why did he even imply you'd have to explain yourself? He runs a hand through his hair, and there he goes again, eyes darting across the café to find something to focus on as he sought out the right words. You'd almost find it endearing, how bad he is at this, if it wasn't so important to you.

"You don't do this often, do you?"

"What, like-- meeting up for coffee?"

"Talking about stuff. Your feelings and shit." You hid your slightly amused smile behind your coffee cup before taking a small sip.

"Oh. Yeah, no, I-- I don't. Not until recently." He takes a deep breath. Just like they had told him to. “I’ve been going to this therapy thing my sister recommended. S’not much, but… It’s a start. Talked about the restaurant, my brother—“

“Your brother?” Your eyebrows raise slightly.

“Yeah, my— my brother. Mikey.” He looks a bit surprised. He’s come to the shattering realization that he’s never told you anything about his personal life, ever. You don’t even know about one of the most important people in his life, his main drive. You’ve known each other for so long yet you know so little. “I never told you about him?”

“You never told me anything.” You answer curtly. “We never really… Talked, you know?”

“Yeah— yeah, you’re right. I just thought… Wow.” He smiles, more out of shock than anything. He feels so stupid. How immature is it to be feuding this much with a person who doesn’t know anything about you?

“I guess I really don’t know much about you either.” His fingers rake through his messy curls again. “Makes me feel like even more of an idiot for going off on you like that. Like I had you all figured out.”

“Yeah, that was uh... That was something." The mood shifts a little. His smile fades as soon as he sees the melancholy in your eyes return. Of course it wouldn't be that easy for you to forgive him, to feel better about all this. "You know, I never knew you thought of me like that." A small smile graces your features. Somehow it's sadder than the expression you had before.

"I mean, I knew you didn't like me. I was pretty much at peace with the fact that you were never going to like me, either. But I never thought you hated me that much." You sniffle, trying your hardest to blink away any oncoming tears. "Like your life, your entire career, would have been easier without me there at all."

His heart aches at the sight of you, all teary eyed and trying to be brave. You're much braver than him. Sadness is a much harder thing to express than anger. He's starting to figure that out more and more.

"I don't hate you." He starts. He sees the confusion contort your features, and he knows he's not making any sense. "I mean I did-- I did hate you. Or, maybe not you, just... The fucked up idea I had of you. And-- and that was on me, that was my own fault." He feels an urge to touch you; to rub your back, hold your hand, anything to comfort you. It's tearing him apart to know that he's the cause of all this.

"But why?" A single tear rolls down your cheek, leaving a wet streak on your skin in its wake. "Why did you think that about me? I-- I get that we had a little rivalry going but jesus Carmen, did you really think I spent my whole culinary school career trying to outdo you?"

"To be honest... Yeah." He feels ashamed. So ashamed. He hopes the waitress doesn't walk by and listen to any of this, see you crying, and make you feel even worse. "Cooking was always just... My thing. If I was good for anything, it would be that. So seeing you do so well at something I'd started to base my whole existence around, it made me jealous, so fucking jealous." He meets your eyes, even if it's hard. You have to know he's being sincere.

"And it's-- it's unfair, it's so unfair to you, I know, and I'm really fuckin' sorry. I'm trying to work on myself, on everything, and I hope I can prove that to you." His face has that red tint you recognize whenever he's nervous or stressed. You can tell this is taking a lot from him.

"Is that really all? You were just jealous?" Your voice is quieter, fragile almost.

"I don't know. I wanna think it's that simple but I really don't know. There's a lot I don't understand about me, or you, or us. My mind doesn't know how to react when I see you anymore I think, now that things are different." He takes a deep breath, like saying that took a physical toll on him. "You have this-- this weird effect on me, and I don't know how to cope with it. I think it was just easier to be mad at you than to be anything else."

Anger is easier to express than sadness. The easiest out of all emotions, actually. Sometimes a little too easy.

You look to the side, wiping your cheek with the back of your hand. You huff out something close to a laugh, and though he’s caught off guard by it, he doesn’t mind it. Even if you’re laughing at him, at least that means you’re not crying.

“You’ve got issues Berzatto. You know that?”

“Yeah. I’ve been told.” He smiles, and it’s heartfelt this time. Not nervous, or sad, or awkward. He’s happy to see you a little more at ease.

“It’s just really crazy to me.” You trace your finger over the edge of your coffee cup as you talk. “I spent so much time in culinary school looking up to you. And then I find out you were always just trying to keep up with me.”

Carmen’s eyebrows raise a little at your words. “Looked up to me?”

“Yeah, like… Your drive, your passion, it’s so impressive. Always looking to improve, to do better, it just— it inspired me to do better too. As cheesy as that may sound.” You smiled. “S’why I opened up in Chicago, you know.”

“Really? Huh.” He leaned back in his seat.

“Because I wanted to work with you. Or for you. Either would have been fine with me.” You sigh. “I like owning my own place, but… I don’t know, for some reason I always imagined us working together.” You smiled. “Is that stupid?”

“No,” he replied quickly, “no not at all, I— I totally get that.” He’s quiet for a few seconds, and you can practically hear the gears turning in his head when he stares at you for a moment.

“I mean you’re a remarkable chef, really, like— insanely remarkable, and, well, we’re revamping the restaurant completely right now. We need people— more people, new people, and so, I was wondering— or I’ve been thinking—“ He stops himself from losing his breath from all his rambling, before he freaks you out even more than he already has.

“I want you to come work for us at the Bear.” He puts his hands together, as if he’s about to beg. “Please.”

You can almost hear yourself blinking out of confusion. There’s suddenly no more loud silences, no, the café seems dead quiet for once. All you can do is stare at him, wait for a laugh, because clearly this was a joke right? There’s no way Carmen Berzatto, chef supreme, arch nemesis of yours, would want you anywhere near him, let alone work in his own establishment.

“I’m sorry?”

He feels stupid already. You had every reason to say no. He’d been the biggest asshole in the world to you, he’d kept his distance all his life, and now he expects you to be his employee. Or, well, colleague, more so.

“I’m uh— we’re redoing the restaurant entirely. New equipment, new staff, new everything.” He swallows; the thought of everything that needed to be done arises for a moment. “We need people that work hard, who know what they’re doing and who are passionate about it. And I barely know anyone who’s better at what you do than yourself.” He pauses, waiting for you to stop him. But you don’t.

“So I’m asking if you’d work for me. With me. It won’t be anything like old days, if anything I— I need to learn from you.” He scoffs at himself. “Could take a thing or two about how to communicate with my staff.”

You smile, and he genuinely thinks you’re about to start laughing at him. You chuckle, but it’s not mean, it’s honest. Cute.

“You know, you have great timing.” You grin.

“I do?” the smile on his face reflects the hope he feels.

“One of my chefs wants to take over the place for me. Well, has been wanting to. I haven’t had an exact reason to say yes to her yet.” You shrugged. “Guess I do now.”

“…Is that you saying yes?”

“It’s definitely not me saying no.” Your eyes meet his, and there’s something between you both that’s different now. It’s not like there’s a switch that’s been flipped. It‘s more like this conversation was the turning page of a new chapter.

“I’ll think about it. I want to see it first. Maybe talk to some of your staff.” Carmen’s chest strains a little when he thinks about you interacting with Richie. Then he’s reassured when he thinks about you interacting with Sydney or Marcus. You’d fit in well, you have great feeling for people.

“Yeah— yeah, I get that. Totally. I can arrange that. Uhm, we’re renovating right now, actually, it’s all really kinda wild, but if you wanna stop by, chat with Syd, or Nat, or talk about the plans, let me know. I’m sure they’d love to talk to you.” He’s not lying, you seem like you’d get along well with them. Especially Sydney. Your thinking processes are very similar to each other. And to his.

Carmen gets the bill, even though you try to pay for it.

“It’s just a coffee, just let me get this one.”

You let him have this one, simply because you can’t argue with him after the conversation you just had. You’re in too good of a mood after his proposition too.

He walks you to your car, hands in his pockets when you reach it. It’s cold outside, and his breath comes out in visible puffs of air. His nose is a little red, but you think it looks cute.

“Thanks for coming, by the way,” he starts, “I know you didn’t have to. Like— after how I acted to you. But— But I really do appreciate that you’re givin' me a chance here.” He’d always been confused about how positive and faithful you were in people. He never thought he’d be grateful for those exact features too.

“No worries, I… I had a good time. I’m glad we talked.” The keys jingle as you fidget with them. Among them is a keychain in the shape of a cherry, he recognizes it. It reminds him of how little you’ve both changed. And how much.

“Yeah.” He sighs. Relieved, almost. “Me too. But I’ll let you leave, might wanna tell your chef the good news.”

“Good news?” You quirk an eyebrow.

“That you’re selling them the business.”

“I haven’t decided yet, Carm.” You scoff. But he can tell you have, you look too excited about it all to not have your mind made up yet. It excites him too. Scares him a bit as well, but what’s a new chapter without a bit of tension?

“Right. Sorry.” He huffs. “Just text me when you wanna head over to see the place. It’s uh… It’s a work in progress, but it’s getting somewhere.”

“I believe you. I’m looking forward to it.” You lean back against your car a little.

“Yeah. Me too.”

“See y’around?” You unlock it and walk up to the driver’s side.

“Course. Uh, don’t be a stranger.”

You grin, leaning down to get into the vehicle. “Never with you, Berzatto.”

He watches you drive off, standing in the cold for far longer than any sensible person has any business standing there. But he feels good. He feels warm.

He thinks about what you said to him before you left. You were right, you were never a stranger to him. You were always like a constant in his life; whether you were actually present or not. And even if he didn’t know that much about you, which he was insistent on changing, you were never a stranger.

Never with him.

tag list <3

@beebslebobs @thatone-brightstar  @spr3id  @deadandstill  @777iii  @magicboytrash  @dogdevourer @wiipes @sierrahhh  @crayzmarvelfan800 @azxulaa  @astridyoo15   @rexorangecouny  @azxulaa @jointherebellion215 @diorrfairy @chanluuvr @idontexist-anymore @wolfiealina

[satrs]

I just love your writing.

Could i ask you to expand on this post for some characters?

https://www.tumblr.com/k-azus/721594671067004928/rock-n-roll?source=share

ROCK N’ ROLL 2!

SYNOPSIS; them as band members part 2!

FEATURING; OLIVER AIKU. BAROU SHOEI. ITOSHI SAE. MICHAEL KAISER.

TAGS; NS*FW content. MDNI! fluff but also NS*FW. fem!reader. nicknames(pretty just once,). oral(male receiving).

VOCALIST!KAISER

Kaiser never fails to impress you, whether it is his glamourous performance on stage or the exclusive private shows he gives you, which mostly end up with you underneath him. But you never complain. Being stuck to the side of a popular band's influential and wealthy leading singer does have its perks.

Amazing dates and breath-taking gifts are always on the agenda and there is not one day with you unsatisfied. Of course, the long tours are a struggle for you both to work on, but he makes sure to stay in contact with you his whole free time. And once he's back home? He'll make sure to show you how much he missed you.

"Missed you so much", he mumbled into your next, hips stuttering into yours as shallow breaths escaped him. His hot breath hot on your neck, causing goosebumps to arise on your skin, tingle rushing through your body.

"Your coming with me next time. What do you say?" You nod frantically, eyes screwed shut as you dwell in the pleasure he was drilling into you, cry of pleasure flying past your lips.

He took a handful of your tit in his hand, smirking against your neck at the surprised yelp you let out as his fingers pinched your nipple playfully.

"My biggest fan. Gonna put up one hell of a show if you're there."

LEAD GUITARIST!SAE

Sae is confident in himself and his skills, and you are only boosting his ego when he's taking out his guitar to give you insight into his new angelic melodies as you cheer him on with eyes sparkling in admiration.

"What do you think?" He flashes you a sly smirk, awaiting your answer, getting met with a look o favor from you. "Is that even a question?" He chuckled, getting up to put away the instrument, walking up to you while observing your features.

"Got something on my face?", you teased, smirk creeping up your features as his hand reached to stroke the back of your neck. "No. But I want to kiss you." You smile, craning up your neck to place a quick kiss on his lips, chuckling at his disappointed sigh once you drew back from his mouth.

"Not enough." He mumbled before smashing his lips to yours, laying you on your back in an instant. His hands quickly disappeared into your pants, a relieved sigh escaping you once you felt his fingers tease your wet folds and his thumb firmly circling your clit, your hips bucking up into his touch needily.

His tongue danced along your lips, humming into the kiss in content. "Mhm, way better."

His skillful fingers did not only work wonders on the strings of the giutar, but also between the heat of your legs.

BASSIST!BAROU

"Yeah, I'm free now. What do you wanna do?", he asked, rather rhetorical, smirk not wavering. You shrugged playfully, feet drawing you nearer to him as he raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

"We could go to your place, hang out." He chuckled at that, drawing in a large breath as he scanned the area, all of his members already long gone.

"Just hang out?" He decided to test the waters and by the looks of your amused expression, he did the right decision.

His head hung low, mouth slightly open as his eyes observed the way your head bopped up and down his leangth. Your eyes were fixated on his face just like earlier on stage, where you practrically striped him with just your eyes.

"Stop looking at me like that -fuckkk." His head threw back once your throat contracted around his tip, a low groan escaping him. You lift your head, bright smile plastered on your face as your tongue swirled around his tip, eyes not wavering from his face.

"Why? Do I make you nervous?" You teased him, chuckling once he covered his eyes with his hand, Adam's apple throbbing as he swallowed hard.

"No, not nervous," You could see his face again, expression now overtaken by lust as his hand tangled in your hair, tight grip on it.

"Just more excited."

DRUMMER!OLIVER

"I knew you'd come back." You scoff at him, rolling your eyes at his statement. "No one can get enough of me." You frown as he stepped closer to you, his breath tickling your ear as he leaned down. "Not even you."

You froze, unable to react, breath halting in your lungs. He chuckled at your reaction, backing off while he twirled the drumsticks in his fingers, a playful smirk adoring his handsome features while he took a few steps back. "You still know my place. Just come around sometime."

Your jaw clenched as your blood boiled inside of you because you knew he was right. And he knew you would come.

You felt guilty. Guilty when you stepped in and met his triumphant smile as he invited you in, guilty when you accepted the drink he offered you, and guilty when you let your desire take over you before you climbed into his lap and freed the both of you from your clothes in a hurry.

"Damn, eager as always. Don't worry, you got me all night. Let's make up for the wasted time, mkay?" You couldn't snap at him, not when a shock of pleasure waved over you as you sank down on his shaft, biting your bottom lip as your hips met his, clit earning friction from rubbing against his pelvic bone.

Guilty? Yeah. He was your guilty pleasure.

©︎𝐊-𝐀𝐙𝐔𝐒. all rights reserved. Do NOT plagiarize, copy, modify, republish, or translate my work in any way!

[realisticjupiter]

Hii :)

can I request some domestic fluff? I would really like to read Chishiya as a dad and married to the reader, there's barely any Chishiya!Dad content 😔

I LOVE UR WRITING SM BTW, I've read all your work, and I love the way you write Chishiya <333

Hope you have a good day :)

Summary: Chishiya tries to learn to never take his family for granted.

Pairing: dad!chishiya x mom!reader

Genre: Fluff , slight angst

Warnings: angst (it's barely noticeable! I couldn't help myself..), the daughter doesn't have a specific name (I never liked naming kids in fics) lmk if anything else

Word count: 731

a/n: thank you so much for requesting!! I don't think I've ever actually seen dad!chishiya so this was fun to write :). I hope this is good enough to your liking and I'm glad you like my work--have a good day!!!

Chishiya walked into the door as quietly as he could, his keys clinking together as he shut the door behind him.

Of course he didn't want to make either of you wake up, for many reasons. One of them being that he solely just, didn't want to deal with it.

He found himself staying later at work because the thought of coming home almost made him a type of sad he couldn't explain. It made his stomach hurt as if he needed a hug but the thought of someone's touch made his head dizzy.

Home was supposed to be an escape from work, but work turned into an escape for home. Chishiya wasn't sure how he did it, or how he managed to convince himself work was better. It wasn't.

The creak that was made from the rusted hinges on the bedroom door made him cringe. His sock covered feet rustling against the carpet as he made his way inside, looking towards the bed, taking a double take to look at the bodies laid underneath the covers.

Your body lies still next to the smaller one, a hand placed on the small of the child's back as your other hand continues to fidget with the short locks of hair.

He watched your hand make lazy movements against the child's scalp, making him smile at the endearing sight before him; unable to pull away his gaze nor his thoughts.

You peeked open a single eye to look at the figure standing in the darkness. "You're home." You whispered softly.

"Mhm," Chishiya hummed in reply, finally turning away his gaze to walk away. Wanting to change into more comfortable clothing.

You pulled away from the small girl beside you to sneak out of bed, following Chishiya towards the walk-in closet.

He raised a brow when he heard you closely behind him, confused why you'd rather be around him than to peacefully sleep.

"Is everything okay with you?" You whispered, flicking on the light as he removed his white coat.

"Yeah, why wouldn't it be?" He answered, letting his coat fall to the ground with the clink of his name tag.

"I don't know.." You shrugged, walking towards him with uneasy steps.

He turned around to face you as you slid your palms through the opening of his untucked shirt, his breath hitched at the touch but his entire body melted into it.

"You've been distant, Chishiya." You admitted, avoiding eye contact as you looked down at your hands that hid beneath the blue scrubs.

He thought about his next words, afraid of any negative reaction you could give him by just two simple words.

"I'm sorry." Two words he never said often; often as in ever. Maybe once or twice through your relationship but never as meaningful as the way they slipped past his lips in the softest whisper he could.

Your eyes met his glassed over ones, unsure if it was because he was exhausted or about to cry.

"It's okay." You assured him, bringing your hands away from his stomach. But, before he could miss the soft touch, your hands rested on either side of his face.

He wanted to speak but kept his silence to linger in the moment with your thumbs tracing light circles on his cheeks.

"Daddy?" The young girl voiced from behind you, obviously tired by her tiny yawn and her fingers that clawed at her eyes.

He looked at you, as if to ask for permission to pull away from the addicted touch. You smiled at him and pulled your hands away to turn around and watch the young girl run towards Chishiya with open arms.

He bent down to bring her into his embrace, picking her up to hold her against his chest. "Tired?" He hummed to her, but his eyes on you as if the question was also aimed at you.

You nodded before the young girl could disagree with a mumbled no against his shoulder.

You laughed as she attempted to fight off her sleep, but when he passed her over to you so he could finish changing; she was passed out in your arms.

The smallest interaction with his family made him realize how much he missed your soft touch. The realization he hasn't felt your hands around his skin in what felt like ages made his heart hurt.

Nevertheless, he'd never take you for granted again.

reposts and comments are appreciated <3

[romanarose]

If You Wanna Be Wild: Chapter 8

Co-written with @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction my beloved Fen, who I could not do this without. Thank you for being my emotional sounding board, my dear friend, my wonderful cowriter and helpful beta reader. I adore you.

Javier Peña x Latina!Reader/oc x Santiago Garcia

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Summary: Santi wallows and Candy is hurt.

Content and warnings for whole fic, not chapter by chapter unless something is added: Sex work, drug trade, some drug use/pressured used, sex workers and the mistreatment/stigma surrounding them specifically in the 70’s (my blog is sex worker positive) but ima put potential dub con depending how you look at it as a sex worker who works with dangerous men, some action surrounding reader and the guys and the drug trade, SMUT HEAVY, corruption kink (were corrupting santi here, he’s young, 25), no loss of virginity tho, threesomes, some slight m/m smut but that’s not the focus here, but as you know this blog is an lgbt blog so I’m always open to gay shit. Talk of war and some PTSD but I won't be going a whole lot into it. Covert/emotional incest in the past, Santi's mommy issues, m/m dynamics, internalized bi/homophobia

Reader speaks Spanish and has hair. I've decided Candy is just latina bc she's a sex worker in Colombia so this is what I'm doing. Reader also has curly hair and dark skin.

ADDITIONAL WARNINGS!: Deep internalized homophobia

Amazing smut by Fen as always!!! send love their way!!!

2.3k words

Support writers! Reblog and comment!Keep reading

Santi flinched when he heard another plate crash against the wall, thrown by mamí’s hand and hurdled towards his sister. They were screaming at each other again, and it was bad this time. Elaina had been caught by a neighbor boy's mom, naked in bed with that neighbor boy and brought her to mamí for punishment. Santi had woken from his sleep to the knock, and when he opened his eyes to see Elaina’s bed was empty, he knew it was her. It was always her. Why couldn’t she listen? Why couldn’t she just behave? She caused mamí so much stress when she already worked so hard. Look where they were, the three of them living in a small 2 bedroom apartment, the two siblings were still sharing a room at 14 and 10. She needed to do better for mamí.

“Libertina!” Mamí shouts, slapping Elaina across the face. “How dare you disrespect me! How dare you embarrass your brother!”

Santi didn’t feel embarrassed. Should he feel embarrassed? Mamí said it was embarrassing. Yeah, yeah he felt embarrassed. Humiliated even.

“Mamí! Just listen! I’m trying to talk to you!” Elaina is crying, crumpled clothes had noticeable tearing at the collar. 

“Callate!! No quiero escuchar a una puta fea!” Mamí reaches for her shoe. Santiago closes his eyes, clenching his little hands up into fists, squeezing them every time he hears the smack.

*

When it was all said and done, Elaina was sobbing in her bed, and Santiago was pulled onto his mother's lap. He had the distinct feeling he was too old for this, but he didn’t protest. Mamí didn’t like when he said he was too old for something, or grew out of anything. He outgrew a pair of jeans last week and she cried about how soon he’d find another woman and leave her. She said he was hers. Her little man. Her esposito. Her Santito.

Mamí held him close, arms wrapped around his body as they watched TV, up past his bedtime, telling him how good he was, how he could never leave her.

“Don’t you ever leave, Santito, bueno? No woman will ever love you like I do. They’ll only hurt my baby. They won’t cook for you, women anymore don’t take care of their men. They don’t clean either. I’ll take care of you, always, just never leave me for another woman. As long as you are my good esposito, I’ll take care of my Santito.”

*

Santi would leave, eventually, but not for another woman. He left to join the military to pay for his mom's bills when she wasn’t making ends meet as she got sicker. Elaina took care of her, despite everything she put Elaina through. Elaina became someone Santi admired deeply, seeing her for who she was. She wasn’t the problem child. She wasn’t a menace. She was a normal kid. It was Santi that was strange. The guys in the force razzed him over his relationship with his mom, telling him his wife wrote him when a letter from his mom came. They also made fun of him for going to mass weekly or more, for praying even in the field, for not fucking the local women they encountered, but being called gay wasn’t anything new to him. He was called that in high school, along with a myriad of racial slurs.

Frankie never made fun of him, neither did Will. Ben did, but it was just friendly, nothing mean. Nothing like Tom. Will was religious, raised baptist and respected Santi’s ongoing commitment. Ben was a bit of a mama’s boy too, just not as bad as Santi. Frankie didn’t have a relationship with his family, so he thought it was sweet.

Santi thought it was normal. It was normal to constantly worry what your mom thought, whether or not you acted on it.

When Santi finally left his mom's grasp after she fell asleep on the couch, he felt a tightness in his chest. There was a sense that something was deeply wrong for laying there with his mom, a feeling that he was too old, that he didn’t want to do that anymore… but then a deep guilt for leaving her for the comfort of his own bed. He never knew what the right choice was, constantly second guessing every move he made when he went to war with his own wants and his mom's. Cracking the door to the room he shared with Elaina in their small apartment, he heard her crying. At first, he considered going back to the couch where mamí lay… but in addition to being mamí’s esposito he knew he needed to be there for Elaina too.

When he lay in his bed, Elaina eventually spoke. “She didn’t even ask what happened.” She sobbed. “I didn’t want to… I didn’t, but he- he- he, and his friends…” She broke down in heavy heaves once again, crying as the welts mamí gave her began to show in the moonlight and Santi began to realize what had happened to her. When she began to calm down, Elaina turned to him, her face set in anger he didn’t think was directed at him but he could never tell.

“Don’t you ever do that to a woman, do you hear me? If I ever catch you acting like that, I swear to god Santi, I swear to god…”

She never did finish that sentence, and Santi didn’t sleep that night, but he promised. He would never disrespect a woman, never. He would be a better man than their dad, than the men who did that to his sister. He’d make mamí and Elaina proud, he’d follow the word of God. He’d be good for his mamí. He’d make her proud. He’d be her good Santito.

*

“Good boy, Santito”

Cold ran down his back, through his torso and into his heart where it pumped the icy anxiety into every vein. He felt sick. Santi thought of his mom, thought of what she must think of him right now, what Jesus must think of him… in bed with a woman who isn’t his wife, kissing a man, feeling his erection in his pants as their bodies pressed into each other… and Elaina, what would she think of soliciting a prostitute?

He needed to go. He had to go. He had to get out of this room and maybe throw up and maybe switch jobs and go to confession and punish himself… he caused Candy to sin, he caused Javi to sin, if they go to hell it’s his fault, he’s going to hell, he’s going to burn in hell now and-

Santi realized he was already walking down the street, not remembering how he got there. He paid her right? Did he? Great now he was a sexual sinner and a thief. What was wrong with him? So many things… so many things…

Tucking himself into an ally, he doesn’t make it far before he starts throwing up, the little food he’s been able to get down coming back up. This is why his pants were falling off. He was a fucking disaster. He was a failure to everyone around him, he couldn’t even catch Lorea. There was no stopping the tears that came as he laid down on the disgusting floor. There was a needle by his leg and Santi was pretty sure someone had defecated nearby but he wasn’t in control of his own body anymore. The guilt was crippling, the sadness exhausting… He wanted to call Javi, Javi would make it better… but there was no better, was there?

It wasn’t going to be better.

Santi laid there until the sun set.

Javi opens his front door on the fourth knock, not bothering to check who is there before he flings it open, a scowl plastered to his features. 

His expression quickly softens when he sees you. Sees the redness to your eyes. 

“Cand-”

“Can I come in?” You cut him off quickly, you don’t want to see that sympathetic look, you don’t want to see worry in his eyes. This isn’t about that. 

You swallow down your emotions, force them down. Don’t think about Santi, don’t think about Santi, don’t think about Santi. 

You push past him before he can even answer, ducking under his arm that is holding open the door. 

“I… yeah?” He turns, shutting it and following you as you walk into the room. “What-”

Enough questions. You don’t need questions. 

You kiss him forcefully, slipping your tongue past his lips and lightly walking him backwards. 

Taken by surprise, he goes with the kiss, groaning softly. Your lips only break apart as you push him back onto his sofa. 

He tries again to speak. Tries to break through the shield you’ve put up. 

You don’t let him, dropping quickly to your knees between his legs and palming him through his joggers. 

He bites back a moan, eyes closing for a second as his body reacts on autopilot. His cock twitches under the warmth of your hand.

You don’t let him compose himself, pulling his soft dick from his clothes and quickly lean forward and take him into your mouth. 

He hardens quickly, growing as you swallow and bob until he nudges at the back of your throat. You groan, swirling your tongue as you deep throat him, taking him deeper. 

Javi’s moans grow in volume, mutters of praise slipping past his lips as the sounds rumble in his chest.

“Santi…” you whine as you come hard against him.

 “I wasn’t finished.” He smiles cheekily.

“Good boy, Santito.”

You choke, spluttering for a second as you breathe at the wrong time. 

“Baby,” Javi pulls you off him, salvia drinks down your chin as he takes your face in your hands. Worry in his eyes. 

That fucking look again.

“What’s wrong?” 

“I was just wondering if you… wanted some company tonight…” You say softly. “Free of charge?”

You hold his gaze as he looks over your face. You know that expression too. The one of a detective. You just wanted a distraction, and he could give it.

But after a moment he nods and doesn’t press further. 

You pull off your clothes quickly and climb into his lap when Javi has barely taken off his t-shirt. You waste little time, taking him again in your hand and pumping twice between you line yourself up with him and sink down. 

He groans, screwing his eyes up tight. 

You shiver. He’s big, and even though you’re used to him your body still reacts a little in surprise, clenching and hampering your intentions. 

You frown, wriggling, trying to take more and more even and fight the resistance. 

When Javi’s eyes meet yours you want to scream. To cry. 

You don’t want those soft eyes. You don’t need them.

Oh god, how much you need them. 

He doesn’t speak, doesn’t push. Simply rubs his thumb against your clit while his other hand holds your hip and stops you from trying to sink further down. 

It takes less than a minute for a spark of pleasure to run along your skin, for your hips to rock and for you to throw your head back in a soft moan. 

He gently pushes you down onto him, filling you and stretching you wide before he moves and flips you onto your back on the sofa with him above you. 

He thrusts slow and deep until you're digging your nails into his back and sobbing his name as he sucks bruises into your neck in time with the rapid rock and grind of his hips. 

“Javi…” You tense, gasping as your pleasure crests suddenly, overpowering and relentless. Robbing you of thought for one blissful moment. 

“That’s it, bebé, that’s it…” He whispers into your ear, slowing his thrusts but not stopping completely, letting you breathe and recover for a minute before he starts to build up again. “I’ve got you.” 

When you’ve settled, naked on his chest, Javi holds you close. He has a way of sensing when you need him, of when you need the extra touch and he’s there to give it.

A gentle kiss to the tip of your ear. “Do you wanna talk about it, Candy?” His voice was soft, letting you know you don’t have to answer. But you did, because it was Javi, your Javi, and you needed him.

“Santi’s mad at me.” You sniffle, clinging to him as the tears come for the hundredth time. “I- I don’t know what I did, but he just left- he left right after we… he wouldn’t even look at me, and he won’t talk me and it’s stupid, Javi I know it’s stupid because he’s a client, he’s just a client but, but-”

“Candy.” Long fingers tangle in your hair. “I know hes not just a client. It’s okay. You’re human. It’s normal for you- for us- to feel things… and I know how it feels to… feel… for him…”

You pause at that, then finally pull yourself off his sticky skin to look down at him. Your hair falls around, closing off the two of you to the world. “You… do?”

The look Javi gave you made your heart clench tight, something you’ve never seen in him. Worry. 

He gives a small nod. “He’s um… not talking to me either. I… kissed him… on friday. And he ran away so… I don’t think this is about you.”

You regard him curiously. You weren’t stupid, you were aware that those two were making goo goo eyes at each other for months, so this wasn’t a huge shock, and you and Javi were both on the same page of who gave a shit if someone was gay. You’d fucked plenty of girls during threesomes and group sex, and Javi…. Well, live and let live sort of man. But you didn’t expect the kiss at all.

Rolling over, you flop onto the bed beside him.

“You know how he is… guilt over everything… just a ball of anxiety. I wish… I wish I could take it away from him. I do. I wish I didn’t feel the way I did, but I do. It’s all gotten so… complicated.”

Javi’s hand takes yours, giving you a squeeze. “Yeah. it has.”

***************

thanks so much for waiting!!!!! it's been 5 ever, but not for lack of trying on my part. its been one thing after aother and then all of a sudden its been like 6 months????

anyway thank you to fen for everything, y deepest love to you always!!!!!!!

2 chapters left!!!!

love santi? want him dark?

Love Santi? Want him soft?

Joel handmiads tale au?

Want some dark logan howlett?

@runa-falls @lunar-ghoulie @campingwiththecharmings @whatthefishh @persephone-girl @criticalarchitecture @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @beelzebeth87 @pimosworld @millerscoffee @heareball @thatwonderouswoman @poolboydivision @meveispunk @lovable-liar @millllenniawrites @read-and-wip @missdictatorme @the-fox-den @milkymoon2483 @k-ra @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @rosellacwrites @legendary-pink-dot @dreamingofbucky @englandsgray @starsthatwatch @fairlyang @alwaysmicado @theywhowriteandknowthings @casa-boiardi @lostfleurs @ninebluehearts @puglover12 @sub-aro @laiisleiite @itspdameronthings @heareball @comfortlessjoy @csarab615 @calaveramangonda @bit-dodgy-innit @stevngrant @kirsteng42 @mrsjavierp @nanfafnan @lovable-liar @axshadows @cookielovesbook-akie @reallyrallyauthor@solar-fics

[typhoons-mess]

On The Edge Sneak Peak

Here is a sneak peak of a story an anon requested. Really excited to show this off soon. This is a Dagur X AFAB Reader

Authors note: Also, if you would like to be tagged in any Dagur content I do please let me know!

[Update 9/29/2024: My hyper fixation is pulling me back in-hopefully I’ll actually work on it since I got two stories going at once!]

It felt good being back to the edge after that strenuous training session, as Hiccup would put it. He’s been focusing more on accuracy to make sure we all can hit Vigo’s ships since the double in the last few days. We can’t afford to fail. Astrid landed next to me and dismounted Stormfly landing her feet on the hard wood beneath us. “Well, that session could have been worse.” She sighed out moving a piece of hair out of her eyes.

Letting out a snort as I patted my dragon. “Yeah. The twins could have accidentally set Snotlout on fire from their terrible aims.” Astrid shoulders shake from her laughing.

We continue our chatter as we head down to the ‘hall’ to have dinner with the others. Taking a seat in between Heather and Snotlout we all dig into our meals as Tuff tells us another one of his jokes. “-But somebody better explain how Yak stew got into my pants!” Hitting his palms on the table as he laughs hysterically. The others around laugh as I cover my mouth to contain my chuckles, even Hiccup joins in.

“Hey! Speaking of soggy pants, you ever wonder what happened to Dagur and his crazy pants?” This makes everyone stop laughing and give a confused but stern look to Hiccup’s inquiry. The though of someone mentioning Dagur makes me choke on my drink, which prompted Heather to look my way.

Back on Berk when we were younger, first time Dagur arrived, me and Hiccup were playing together by the cliff sides. Dagur asked if he could play with us, and of course we both agreed since he was a guest. It was nice to have someone different than Hiccup to play with, even if he was a bit rough. One time we decided to race, by choice of Dagur of course. We would run all over the village with Hiccup being in last and Dagur and I running head-to-head with each other leaving the small boy behind. Turning the bend to go into the forest I remember tripping over a branch and scraping my knee. Looking down at the tore in my pants I can see scratches start to weep some specks of blood out. The strangest thing happened though. It was the first time I ever saw Dagur-well concerned for another living being.

“Look your f-fine! Just stop crying and-just here!” He tore off a piece of his clothing and wrapped it around the small wound as I wiped the tears from my eyes. It seemed hard for him to find the right words to comfort me. Looking up at him he blushed as he held out his hand for me to take, lifting me up off of the foliage. Seeing that I was now ok he stomped away as Hiccup came around the corner, panting as he stopped next to me.

“What-what happed?” He asked out of breath.

“I have no clue.” Puzzled I watched as Dagur stormed off to the great hall.

I whipped my mouth as Ruff slightly turns her head to look at Hiccup. “No not really.”

“What brings Dagur up anyway?” Fishlegs says looking puzzled as he puts down his second piece of Yak.

“Nothing!” Putting up his hands in defense,”-but since were on subject of Dagur now-uh-do you ever wonder why he helped Heather escape form Vigo?” Hiccup questions looking at all of us.

“Probably to make a distraction so he could escape himself.” I chimed in wiping my mouth as Astrid nodded with what I said.

“Maybe. I don’t know-“Heather raises her eyebrow in question, “-but was if it was actually the first step toward a new life.” We all tensed up knowing that this would cause an outburst with Heather.

“Hiccup-“I try to warn him to not bring it but got interrupted with Heather slamming her fist down onto the wood of the table.

 “A new life? Dagur? A dragon doesn’t change its marking Hiccup.” The force from the hit knocking her drink onto her lap and mine. Fishlegs tries to intervene with knowledge of some dragons who can actually change their markings.

“You get the point!” She says looking down at her axe in frustration.

“Well, you are probably right, but look at Stoick! Who would have thought he would have ever learned to ride a dragon. I mean it could be possible that he’s changing.”

“Y/N’s right. Y-You never know, next time we see Dagur- “

“I’ll SPLIT THE FATHER KILLER IN TWO!” Slamming her axe into the table right beside her, splitting into into two.

We all stared in silence for a good minute. Afraid saying anything else might make that axe split one of use into two. “Yep. Ok. I-I think we get your point.” Hiccup says a bit frightened like the rest of us. Noticing the thin tension, she makes her way to the door of the clubhouse. “I better go I have island patrol tonight.”

“Actually! I will take that. I have a way more important mission for you and Snotlout! It’s-uh-one final recon mission to check out our target”

“What are you talking about? We went last time.” Snotlout as confused looking between Heather and Hiccup. “I know, that’s why I’m sending you two again to be one the lookout for any last-minute changes. And you should leave. Tonight.”

“Tonight?!” Shouts Snotlout.

“Jeez Hiccup. Are you trying to get rid of us?”

“Yes-NO no that’s crazy why-why would I- “

Heather chuckles, “I’m kidding Hiccup. Relax. Come on Snotlout sooner we leave, the sooner we get back.”

“Take your time! And by that, I mean be safe!” He sighs looking back to me and Astrid. We both look at each other puzzled as to what was going on in Hiccup’s head.

When we all left to go to our respected huts for the night, me and Astrid headed out together. “Something seemed off didn’t it. ”Astrid looked puzzled as she asked me. “It could he is just nervous about what’s going to happen soon.” I shrug. Looking at me she mimics the same response, “I guess you could be right.” I give her a sympathetic smile and I put my hand on her shoulder. “It’ll be alright Astrid. We just have to trust him.” She looks at me and chuckles. As we near our huts we bid each other goodnight and headed inside. Even though I trust Hiccup something did seem off. He never mentioned Dagur this much before. But that could be thought more tomorrow as I sluggishly made way straight to my comfortable bed.

Tomorrow.

I can ask him questions tomorrow.

[svmjaeyvn]

love maze, s.jy.

chapter two pairing: jake x afab!reader word count: tbd (series)

masterlist

add yourself to the taglist here!

genre: college!au, mutual friends, fake dating, smut.

synopsis: an unfortunate encounter, drunken mistakes, and a sort of (definitely) stalker leads jake sim ‘dating’ his best friend’s childhood crush.

or, your life gets intertwined with a rich boy’s in attempt to not get sued by his crazy personal fangirl and like with all good cliches, sex overcomplicates things.

contents: smut, sort of strangers to fuck buddies to lovers pipeline, childhood best friend!jay, mentions of best friend! yunjin, curly haired & mixed reader, uni!au, rich nepo baby!jake, enha frat boys, lots of kissing, fake dating turning into fwb real quick, totally way too into it for it to be fake early on, big booty reader that’s jake’s obsessed with, partying and alcohol use, slight violence, he fell first and harder trope, stem bf & writer gf, (kinda overly) possessive jake, some angst to spice things up, daddy issues, hyper independent reader who struggles with her feelings, fluff and happy ending!!

a/n: hello~ i’ve never been a tumblr girly but i have went through my w*ttpad era back in 2018 so bare with me y’all. this will be a series but not that long (i hope) so pls look forward to it. warning tags will be placed before each “chapter” to specify what to expect. pls pls reblog and interact, i’d love to have feedback and see what your thoughts are. okay! yay, for now enjoy and thank you sm :D

MDNI, 18+

tap below to continue

CHAPTER TWO: INTOXICATING

previous masterlist next

word count: 1.9k

warnings: alcohol, partying, mentions of yeonjun for funzies, jake thinking with his dick even after what just happened so sort of questionable???

a/n: bare with me i’m trying to build the plot a little bit

YOU DIDN’T KNOW how you ended up back at the frat house. Truly, the party was in full swing and after dealing with the encounter that you did, it would've made the most sense to go home and cry it all out, maybe eat some ice cream for dinner and watch a few romcoms. But that wasn't the case due to Yunjin sending you a text saying how she wouldn't be coming home for the night, the date seemingly going well and you didn't have it in you to ruin her night by telling her of yours.

Thus, uncomfortable with being left alone, you opted to go the other route and surround yourself with as many people as possible. Though, the boys hadn't wandered far, keeping you in sight at all times and Jay particularly staying by your side no matter how many times you told him to still enjoy himself knowing how much of a social butterfly he was a majority of the time. Your work uniform was disregarded in his room, changed into a spare pair of flare jeans and lacy top to fit in with the party, courtesy of the few clubbing nights you went to with him and ended up spending the night, leaving your clothes in his dirty laundry after stealing large hoodies and sweats.

All bad things could be washed away with alcohol, or so they said. Thus, you were on your fourth round of shots in the last 30 minutes with a random group who made their way in the kitchen, never one to have been a lightweight but typically better at timing your drinking. Jay was growing particularly antsy by your actions, knowing you were acting out of the need to forget but he didn't want to let you drink irresponsibly.

"Why don't you slow down a bit, yeah teeny?" Jay asks, leaned close to your ear for you to hear over the loud blaring of music. Attempting to take away the can of Twisted Tea, something you typically hated by the taste but tonight didn't seem to care, while you pull it back with a pointed look.

"I'm fine," You emphasize, words clear and steady, the alcohol not hitting you yet much to your relief. Glancing around, you make eye contact with the umpteenth girl who had been shooting daggers your way for keeping Jay occupied thus far. "If you don't go away I'm gonna end up getting jumped tonight by your fangirls," You add with a small snort.

Jay followed your gaze, turning to the girl who's face morphed from a glare into a sickenly sweet smile as she waved at him with a bite of her lip, attempting to be seductive but he merely snorts at the gesture. "Pretty sure she got chlamydia from a dude in the drama department,"

You scrunched up your nose, finding the information one you didn't need to know. "At least you know better than to fuck anyone that offers," Taking a long sip of your drink once more, the slight burn in your throat becoming easier to bare. "Alright, I'm gonna go dance. You go do anything else,"Jay shakes his head almost immediately causing you to send him a bored look. "I'm fine dude, honest. You need to stop worrying so much. Nothing actually happened,"

"You're not in the right headspace," He protests but you let out a small snort.

"Jesus, dude, you act like an overprotective brother,"

"I am!" Jay defends while you shake your head.

"We're not even related!" You shoot back but his jaw drops in offense.

"We were born a week apart, our moms have been friends since high school. We're basically twins, I know you better than yourself," He lists off, deeply concerned by the way you were disregarding your twins in another life theory that your families always joked of since you were young.

"I'm definitely not your twin, you know why?" You start, standing up from the kitchen island with a small smirk playing at your lips. Your head began to feel fuzzy, the start of your buzz coming and the tension from earlier leaving you slowly but surely. "I'm hotter," You finish, a cocky look playing at your features while Jay rolls his eyes.

"Right, and which one of us gets laid?"

"Hey!" You hiss, waggling a finger in his direction. "I don't hook up by choice. Y'all are nasty,"

"And because you're a hermit who doesn't see the light of day," He snickers causing you to narrow your eyes at him.

Decidedly having enough of the banter, you merely spin on the heels of your feet. "Bye Jay!" You call over your shoulder making your way toward the living room which was lively and loud, body's meshed together and dancing to whatever song that was blaring through the speakers that sounded through the house.

Jay let out a sigh of defeat, pulling out his phone to do a headcount of where everyone was. Thankfully, Heeseung and Jake were in the general area you were, him asking them to keep an eye on you for the time being and getting a thumbs up in response.

Heeseung was on the dance floor, a random girl he never met before tonight swaying herself pressed up against his hips. He looked lively, a few more shots in and just wanting to mess around for the time being. You spotted the tall boy momentarily in the jumble of people who nodded over to you ensuring that you were okay, a nod you returned reassuring him and he took it as enough to go back to his business.

Meanwhile, Jake was on the sidelines, leaned up against the wall as he spotted you the moment you walked over. Far too caught up with the events from earlier, he found it hard to enjoy himself, feeling partially sorry for you but also having an unpleasant pit in his stomach, not necessarily angry but he couldn't exactly pinpoint it.

He continued to sip at the cup of punch Jungwon had conducted up, only drinking it due to how excited the younger boy was of his creation but it was entirely too strong for anyone to stomach more than one cup.

His eyes continued to glance over you, taking in each of your curves that was showed off by the tightness of your jeans. They hugged your ass in the right places, emphasizing the perky shape before beginning to flare out from the knee down. The lacy black top was cropped, showing a good portion of your stomach due to the mid rise of your pants, the deep v-plunge neckline providing more to the imagination in seeing your breast that were pushed up with your bra. The shiny gleam that came off of your naval piercing catching Jake by surprise, having to do a double take to ensure he was seeing things correctly.

You were attractive, that was obvious enough. Although slightly shameful, he couldn't help but rake his eyes over you, thoughts filling his head imagining what it would be like to have you under him, staring up with that daze-y doe eyed look that would make him bend to of any of your desires.

But there was a problem with that. He wasn't the only one with eyes, able to see you and the way you swayed your body to the music, your tiny waist and full thighs that he wanted to die between if so lucky. Jake took note of the few guys who's glances began to wander toward you, even ones who had already claimed their fuck buddies for the night and danced alongside them all while drooling at you who danced by yourself.

He watched as a familiar face make his way toward you. Choi Yeonjun, cool dude to be friends with, horrible guy to date. His reputation preceded him in more ways than one, notorious for stringing girls along week by week and the worst part was they knew of his doings. It was embarrassing how they fought to be his newest toy for the day, a sort of achievement to the girls he's strung along to say they've ticked hooking up with Yeonjun off their list.

Yeah, not happening. Jake didn't know if it was due to him still feeling protective due to you unintentionally calling him for help, or rather the more sinful thoughts that passed through his head moments ago and not wanting to sit and watch you to become a new trophy to a guy like Choi Yeonjun.

Picking himself up from where he was leaned back, Jake took a large swig of his now lukewarm concoction of liquors. Weaving his way through the crowd, he pushes his way to you just as Yeonjun stops in front of your view.

Wrapping an arm around your shoulders, Jake leans close to your ear. "Go along with it," He whispers, catching you by surprise as you were previously engrossed by the music in your own little world, unaware that two of the most lusted over guys at the party were having a silent debate over you at the moment.

Feeling the alcohol now coursing through your bloodstream, you obliged by Jake's words. Continuing on without a word of protest, though you did take the red solo cup from his hand and took a sip from it as you adapted to dancing with him now. Scrunching up your nose upon the drink hitting your tongue, you look at Jake with an incredulous look of disgust in his beverage choices causing him to laugh.

"Jungwon made it," He explains with a small shrug, leaning dangerously close to your face as his breath lightly fanned against your lips. Peering over your shoulder, a small smirk plays at his features seeing as Yeonjun had disappeared from your sight, decidedly giving up on any sort of chance he was attempting to have with you for the night.

"It sucks," You respond back and yet still take another sip, this time longer as you quickly swallow it without time for it to settle on your tongue. Jake's smile turns into one of amusement, watching as you handled the alcohol as if it were nothing before you placed the cup back in his hold. "You either dance with me or go away, your pissing contest with that dude is over now,"

Jake raised a brow. "Pissing contest?"

"You know, marking territory that's not yours," You shoot back, a bored look sent to him as he sheepishly shrugs. "I don't need you being protective like Jay. For one, we barely know each other and two, I'm not that much of an idiot to hook up with Choi Yeonjun no matter how badly I need to get laid. So you either shut up and dance with me or you go away,"

Already rather blunt as it was, the second you got alcohol in your system you tended to be more unfiltered than necessary. Jake finds amusement in your confession but your eyes seem so certain. Though the slight gleam in them as you looked up caused his stomach to do a flip, one that caused him to not think clearly.

Jake didn't respond, instead his arm slips down from your shoulders down to your waist, snaking around and encasing your body against his own. A small smile perks at your lips, sighing blissfully at his lack of commentary and rather allowing you to do as pleased.

"Good choice," You mumble out, breath fanning against his neck as your arms lazily drape from his neck, brining your bodies dangerously close to one another though neither of you minded.

After all, having a little fun with a hot guy never hurt anyone, right?

[tavs-tressym]

Delicious Denial - Chapter Four

(AO3 Link) | Master List | Ko-Fi

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Pairing: Astarion x Fem!Tav (You)

Word Count: 3750 (approx)

Tags: Fluff, eventual smut, domestic fluff, camp life, slow burn romance, sexual tension (A LOT).

WARNING: Contains graphic & gory description of injury.

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A reimagining of the game's events if Tav had zero magical or fighting ability. But she's still pretty fucked up. 👍

(Lots of comforting camp life content)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: OMNOMNOMNOMNOMNOM

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter Four - Delicious

As the celebration grows louder, you panic and pull down the flap of your tent, hiding away. You hear them all spilling into the camp, most voices already slurring their words as they pass you, none the wiser as to who is inside. You stay there, huddled up for some time, trying to stay quiet, hoping that no companion will blow your cover.

“Hey, have you seen Tav?”

Shit.

There’s a space of silence, you can only assume that whoever Karlach is talking to points at your tent, as she lifts up the flap moments later. “Hey soldier! You’re missing o-” She is interrupted by you grabbing her arm and dragging her in the tent with you, a desperate attempt to protect your anonymity. She tumbles to the side, the flap shutting behind her.

“Shh!” You emphasise with your finger to your lips. There’s a strange smell… You feel a tingle on your hands… The tingle turns into sizzling pain… Burning… “Ah! Hot! What the fuck?!” You cry, flailing your hands but they only burn hotter.

“Shit! Shit! Shit! I’m sorry!” You have no idea what she just did to you, but it hurts. A lot.

“Well, hello, what’s going on in here?” Before Astarion can make any further comment on the noises coming from your tent, he is forced out of the way by both you and Karlach, falling flat on his ass.

“Move!” You both yell simultaneously, darting to the lake. You waste no time, you shed no clothing, you jump in, with a frantic splash. Karlach watches, anxiously nibbling her nails, hoping that you’re okay. The water, thankfully, provides relief once you are fully submerged. 

There is a muffled commotion coming from the surface, you want to stay here, where the sound and the eyes can’t reach you. Any hope of sitting through this party undetected has just been destroyed. But you’re running out of air, the urge to breathe takes over and you force your head over the threshold of the lake.

Opening your eyes, you see Karlach waiting on the shore with a small gathering of tieflings and the rest of the party. Shadowheart swaying, clearly intoxicated and struggling to stand. “I brought Shadowheart!” She points at her triumphantly, beckoning you to leave the lake.

“Yyyyyep… That’s me.” She waves, lazily.

A drunk healer, what could go wrong?

You sigh and swim towards them. As you grow closer, the tieflings squint to get a better look at you, some faces darken in recognition, others blissfully unaware and in a similar shape to Shadowheart. As your body emerges from the water, Astarion finally catches up with the crowd, rubbing his behind.

“Gods, what happened?!” asks Gale upon seeing the reddened flesh, peeling from your hands.

“She… She touched me. She didn’t know.” Karlach responds, tears in her eyes.

“Okay, as much as I enjoy talking about it, I would really appreciate somebody fixing it now!” The words force themselves through gritted teeth as the pain creeps back in. Gale nods.

“Shadowheart.”

“Gaaaaale…?” Shadowheart flops her head to look at him.

“Cure. Wounds. Tav. Now.” He speaks as simply as possible for her to understand.

“Huh? Oh, yeah…” She mumbles and slurs through the incantation, unsteadily hovering her hands over yours. It’s not enough.

“It’s not working!” You cry, eyes watering. A strong, large hand comes into view, replacing Shadowheart’s. A deep grumble of words and a glow encases your palms. They quickly revert back to their original, uninjured state. You breathe as the pain fades once again.

In front of- or… above you? A tall, rugged wood elf stands, proudly. “Halsin! Thank you!” Karlach exclaims in relief.

“Y-yes, thank you, Halsin.” You pant, looking up at him as he smiles down at you.

“No need, tonight is a night of celebration, we can’t have any accidents ruin the fun. Besides, what’s an archdruid for if he can’t perform a simple healing spell?” He chuckles heartily.

So he’s one of the druids… The archdruid… Where in the hells was he when the fighting started?!

You inspect him, squinting, then you notice the many faces of the tieflings staring at you in your peripheral vision. Many are struggling between hatred and confusion. Gale takes your hands in his and inspects them, trailing his finger along them as he does. They’re warm compared to yours, though you suppose that’s because you just jumped in a freezing cold lake.

“Are you alright?” He asks with genuine fright and concern in his eyes. You nod then return your gaze to the tieflings. He does the same, recognising the tension. “She won’t harm you.” He announces, still holding your hands. “She may have been on the other side, but it wasn’t by choice. She is our friend. Please, treat her as such.” You doubt his words will have much effect, you know people. People are stubborn.

The tieflings exchange glances then, to your surprise, begin to nod in agreement. Their acceptance of you is… painful. It’s wrong. Their numbers dwindled by your hand, that familiar pang of guilt surges through you once again. The crowd begins to dissipate, returning to the party. Gale looks at you, realises his hands are still holding yours, he lets them go abruptly. “Um-I’m glad you’re feeling better.” Karlach now has tears streaming down her face and is sobbing. You can make out what she’s saying, barely.

“S-soldier… I’m… I’m sooo sorry!! I just… The engine… It… I can’t… I’m sorry!” She’s trying to force out an explanation but her words are stopped by choked sobs. She breaks down in tears in her hands, steam rising from her cheeks. This strong, formidable woman is crumbling in front of you.

“I’m alright now, it’s okay.” She nods, sniffling. Before you can ask about what just happened, the water on your body and clothes catches the cold air and holds it to your skin. You shiver, wrapping your arms around yourself, teeth chattering. Gale steps forward and begins to hold his arms out, preparing to share his body heat with you, but he is interrupted.

“I think I can take it from here.” Astarion says firmly, reaching into your tent to grab your blanket. Gale lowers his arms, nods in surprise and steps back. The blanket is draped over your shoulders, you hold it tightly to your body with your hands as Astarion guides you towards the campfire and away from the others, you look back and catch another glimpse of Halsin talking to a small group of tieflings. Astarion sits beside you as you warm up your hands.

“Th-th-thank y-y-you…” Your shivering makes it hard to speak. He grabs a bottle of wine and two cups, fills them both and offers you one. You hesitate. You don’t care how nice he’s being, you still don’t trust him. His smile fades and he speaks sincerely.

“I promise, it’s just keep you warm.” You still don’t take it, flicking your gaze between him and the cup. Getting a little frustrated, he goes to speak again, then sighs instead. He takes a sip of your cup, before holding it out for you again.

Satisfied, you finally take it and drink slowly, trying not to spill any with your quivering hands. It tastes like vinegar. “Ugh, th-this is a-awful…”

He responds through laughter.“My dear, I couldn’t agree more. I was trying to get my hands on the good stuff, but those tiefling kids drive a hard bargain.” You chuckle and take another sip. “I bet the goblins had good wine.” He says as your body gradually stops shivering; the fire’s warmth spreads to your bones.

“I wouldn’t know, I was too busy rotting in a cell. The party they were having did look fun though.”

Interest peaked, he leans in. “Really? Well, don’t go sparing any details on my account, go on, tell me more.” 

You smile at his eagerness. “A lot of drinking, fighting and in some dark corners you might’ve even caught a glimpse of some sinful debauchery.” You feign horror at the things you’re saying, triggering an airy, high-pitched laughter from him.

“Oh darling, you always know just what to say!” He places his hand on his heart and flutters his eyelashes at you.

You shake your head playfully. “You’re a bit of a freak, aren’t you?”

“Ah, well, if I’m a freak, what does that make you, my dear?” 

You scoff. “Maybe you just bring out the worst in me.” You sip wine nonchalantly.

“Hmm, then the worst is already there, my darling.”

A cold drop of water from your hair falls onto your neck, causing you to shiver violently for a moment. “Ugh! Hold on.” You let the blanket fall from your shoulders whilst you flip your hair forward, twisting it, wringing it out and allowing the drops to drench the floor. You flip it back and look back at Astarion who’s half-lidded eyes haven’t left your exposed neck. “Yes…?” You say, expectantly. He shakes himself out of it and clears his throat, facing the fire again, sipping his wine nonchalantly. “Like I said, freak.” You tease, he chuckles into his cup. You both gaze into the fire, side by side. Your eyes wander and spot Karlach being genuinely comforted by Gale and Wyll. Shadowheart and Lae’zel are… trying…

“So… Karlach, huh?”

“Hmm? Oh, yes she has an unstable engine for a heart or something to that effect. She can’t touch people.” He speaks casually and in between sips.

“That sounds awful.” He flicks his eyes to you, intrigued by your earnesty, then nods in agreement. “Anything else about our merry band of companions that I should know about?”

“Ha, I wouldn’t even know where to start!”

You raise an eyebrow and look at him expectantly. “Go on, tell me more...” He grins as you quote his own words back to him.

“Well… Alright. I suppose you may as well know now.” He adjusts himself and moves close, gesturing to each party member as he explains their situations. “Gale’s ex-lover is the goddess Mystra, he has a bomb in his chest and he, annoyingly, eats valuable magical items to stop it from killing us all. Wyll is the son of Grand Duke Ravengard and he’s locked in a bad contract to serve a devil called Mizora, we don’t like her. With me so far?”

“Er-I think so…?” You try to prepare your mind for more overwhelming information.

“We don’t know much about Shadowheart, but that’s only because Shadowheart doesn’t know much about Shadowheart. Amnesia. All we know is that she serves Shar and carries a Gith relic around with her... Oh and Lae’zel wants to find a creche.” He looks over at you to gauge your reaction.

“Uh… Okay… Right…” You nod slowly, staring into space. He chuckles and waves his hand in front of your face.

“Still with me, darling?” You snap out of your trance and nod.

You think for a moment, then realise something.

“What about you?”

“What?” He asks, already a little defensive.

“You told me about everyone but yourself. What about you?”

He stutters a little but regains his playful composure once again, debating the value of honesty. Then his eyes light up with an idea. “How about we make this… interesting?”

“I’m listening…”

His grin grows wider, excited by your cooperation. He leans in, even closer, faces inches apart. “You show me yours, I’ll show you mine.” He says softly, you can feel his warm breath on your lips.

You match his smug expression. “Promise?” His eyes widen for a moment, you get the first sense that he’s struggling to keep up with you, and it fills you with such a thrill. He pulls away, places his practised mask on once again and nods. “Hmm… I’ll think about it.” He seems to enjoy you toying with him, for now. He leans back to get a better look at you.

Your face changes from playful to sincere as you skim memories in your head. You take a deep breath and look at the ground. “The past is kind of hard to talk about.” You giggle nervously. Astarion recognises your change in demeanour and adjusts himself into a more appropriate listening pose. “Then let’s make it easier. You lied to us about something yesterday, can you tell me the truth?” He spoke confidently yet softly. A strange mix, but you appreciate him asking instead of commanding.

I suppose it’s only fair. A piece of me, for a piece of him…

You breathe in, readying yourself for his judgement. “Something happened at the goblin camp. I did something.” When you meet his eyes again, he’s distant, guarded, but listening intently. His eyes tell you how surprised he is that you’re playing along, and honestly, you’re surprised too. “Minthara had a prisoner, to prove myself to her, I had to… ‘persuade’ him to give her the location of the grove… I did just that.” You pause, searching his face, debating whether or not to continue. Remarkably, he doesn’t seem put off by the information. His brows are furrowed but in concentration rather than disgust. “At first I couldn’t believe what she had asked me to do, but still, something came over me. It made me hurt him, and I really hurt him... It felt like I was hurting-… Someone else… Anyway, to put it simply, it worked. I handed the grove to her on a silver platter. It didn’t matter to me, I was safe. But then I saw them, all of these people… As much as I appreciate Gale protecting me back there, it was based on a lie. They have good reason to hate me, they should hate me.” He takes in every word you say.

“Gods, I’m sorry, you must think I’m a monster-”

“No, no. I don’t. I understand.” He looks down for a moment as he processes the information.

“H-how?”

How in the hells could he understand? I sentenced dozens of people to their deaths!

He doesn’t answer. He swiftly moves on and when he looks at you, he sees only you.

“Thank you. For telling me that.” He smiles at you, then back to silent gazing into the fire.

You ask the question that burns in your mind: “Are you going to tell the others?”

“No, I don’t think so. There’s no point, really.” He shrugs, still smiling.

You exhale your anxiety. “Thank you… So… I can stay…?”

He chuckles and runs his hand through his hair. “Gods, my dear, if we abandoned every person who’s engaged in a little bloodshed, none of us would be here.” You let out a muffled giggle and hold the smile that graces your face in the process, nodding gratefully. You still don’t trust him, not entirely, but for a brief moment, you did. And it felt good.

Looking around, you notice that the tieflings are now, essentially, comatose, and so are your friends. “Looks like the party’s over.” You giggle at the sight, then look back at Astarion who never broke his gaze on you.

“It doesn’t have to be…” He places his hand on yours. And just like it was when you first met, it’s cold. You flinch at the sensation, he begins to pull away but you grab his hands and hold them near the fire.

“I think you need the heat more than me, you’re freezing!” He chuckles softly. His hands refuse to heat up properly, only the surface of his skin growing warm and even then, not for long. “Are… Are you okay? You aren’t warming up.” He doesn’t respond, he just takes your hand in his and stands. He waits for you to follow. “Where are we going?”

“Not far. I want to show you something, in private.”

Warily, you slowly stand and follow him into the forest until you find yourself in a small clearing. He lets you go and takes a deep breath. “You showed me yours, now I’ll show you mine.”

Your eyes widen and you blush, aggressively. “Please tell me you didn’t drag me out here, just to show me your dick…” He bursts out laughing which makes you feel at ease… If not the slightest bit of disappointment…

“Darling, what do you take me for?!”

You giggle and shrug. “So…?” He smirks at your impatience. From behind a nearby tree, Astarion drags out a dead boar and lays it in the middle of the clearing. “Um… Ew?”

“Do you insist on commenting on everything? Or are you going to give me chance to explain myself?” You raise your hands in surrender, allowing him to continue. He sighs. “Thank you. So… This is what I was doing last night.” He gestures to the boar, you furrow your brows in confusion. “Come, take a closer look, I promise there’s a point to all of this.”

“Back up, then.” You gesture to him to move back with one hand as you use the other to pour a sips-worth of wine into your mouth. He does as you say, moving backwards, waiting for you to inspect it.

You walk towards it, keeping an eye on Astarion’s whereabouts. “I gotta’ say, you’re looking mighty freakish right about now…” You crouch down, smirking at him and try to spot anything odd about the boar. You find nothing and in fact, that is exactly the problem. You can’t seem to figure out how this creature died. Then you see it, two small holes in it’s neck. There is no blood left in this corpse, it has been drained dry. You stand straight immediately in realisation, spilling a little wine from your cup. You back away, slowly, holding your free hand in front of you to maintain distance. You lock your stare onto him, monitoring for any sudden movements. You point at the boar. “That was you?” You ask him bluntly.

“Yes…” He looks… afraid. Of you? How can that be? You’re not the danger here, he is.

“And you’re a…”

“Vampire, yes-well, a vampire spawn to be exact.”

Taking another step back, but maintaining your glare, you dare to ask about your fate. “Am I going to die here?” Tears begin to fill your eyes, voice wavering.

“N-no! I don’t want to hurt you, I swear!” He pleads. “Look… Truthfully, you’re the last one to know! If I was truly a threat, do you think any of our companions would still be alive?” You begin to speak, but pause. Your stare softens.

Well, that explains why everyone was acting so strange at meal times…

You sigh and relax a little. “Alright…”

He does the same. “Thank you.” As the fear subsides, a new feeling emerges, anger. Not at him though, only at yourself for being so stupid, for not seeing it sooner, for… trusting him.

You grab your skull with your hands and let out the energy that’s been building inside of you.

“UGH! Fuck! Seriously, Tav?! What the FUCK?!” You throw your cup at the nearest tree, followed by weak punches, kicks and screaming profanities until you tire yourself out, which doesn’t take long. You turn and slide down against the tree, panting. Astarion holds his hands up and slowly starts to move closer, checking to make sure it’s okay. You nod and even pat on a space beside you, encouraging him to sit. He raises his eyebrows in pleasant surprise, then clears his throat, makes his way towards you and sits. You don’t look at each other, simultaneously enjoying and hating the silence.

“Can I just say… I’m a little surprised you hadn’t worked it out by now. I mean, my eyes are bright red and I have a dashing pair of fangs… so I’m told.” He taunts.

“What kind of vampire walks in sunlight, genius? I don’t have a habit of staring at peoples teeth and I thought your eyes were fucking elf thing, I don’t know…”

He chuckles. “Fair points, mostly… It’s the tadpole, you know. It allows me to do things that I couldn’t before. Well, not everything, of course.” His eyes flick to the boar.

You look at him and then rub your eyes with one hand, bringing it to a pinch on the bridge of your nose. “Gods… So, blood? That’s it? That’s all you can have?”

“Well, you’ve seen me drink wine, but other than that…” He pauses, letting you fill in the gaps. 

You sigh, defeatedly. “Well, how am I going to find blood for you, every damned day?!” You whine.

“What do you mean?” He raises an eyebrow in your direction.

“Look, I can’t fight, the only thing I can do is look after this camp. That includes cooking. I’m not having you sit with us, empty handed, again.”

“You... You want to help me feed?”

“Yes! I can’t keep putting up with that grumpy-ass face at dinner time, it’ll drive me mad.” You tease, he scoffs, feigning offence.

You bite your nails as you ponder the options, searching for anything but the obvious. Alas, you cannot think of anything as sustainable or reliable. “So… What does it feel like? Being bitten?” You approach the topic cautiously, but that doesn’t prevent Astarion from getting his hopes up, even getting a little giddy with excitement at your interest.

“Why…?” He elongates the word to it’s uncomfortable limit in your ear.

“Just shut up and answer the damned question, Astarion!”

He giggles and thankfully, chooses not to embarrass you further. “Honestly? It hurts a fair bit, but only for a few seconds. Then… Well, I wouldn’t want to spoil the rest…” He smirks at you, mischievously.

You clear your throat. “How many cups do you need a day?”

A little disappointed by the slight topic change, Astarion thinks. “Cups? I… Hmm… Two or three maybe? I’m not sure, I can’t say I’ve ever measured it.”

“Alright, we’ll start with two, then go from there.”

“I… Thank you… I appreciate that.”

“Yeah, yeah. You’d just better hope I taste good.” 

He smirks and leans in close, his cold hand on your jaw and his eyes pleading with you to trust him. You allow him to turn your head to the side, he leans into your neck, feeling the heat that emanates from it on his lips. He fills his lungs with your essence and ever so slightly groans. He turns you again so you face him, inches apart, hand still gripping your jaw.

“Darling, you’re going to be delicious…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Next Chapter

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[simplegenius042]

WIP Wednesday, My OC's As A Color Quiz & Meet My Character

Tagged by @spookyrares

Tagging @derelictheretic @inafieldofdaisies @socially-awkward-skeleton @imogenkol @noodlecupcakes @direwombat @voidika @cassietrn @adelaidedrubman @aceghosts @josephseedismyfather @icecutioner @shallow-gravy @strangefable @statichvm @cloudofbutterflies92 @carlosoliveiraa @wrathfulrook @starsandskies @ladyoriza @la-grosse-patate @minilev @thewanderer-000 @omen-speaker @justasmolbard @alypink @shellibisshe @josephslittledeputy @skoll-sun-eater @g0dspeeed @afarcryfrommymain @strafethesesinners @turbo-virgins @softtidesworld @florbelles and @yokobai

WIPs for Life, Despair & Monsters and The Silver Chronicles, this Quiz for the Wings And Horns main cast, and lastly Meet My OC template for two OCs from A Radioactive Calamity Of Love, Bombs & Gore. As you can probably guess, this post does have NSFW content in it. You can read the WIPs, quiz results and find the template below the cut:

First WIP is for my The Invitation WIP (AU?) called An Invite To Wine And Dine. This is either a flashback or a prologue, where Evie Jackson officially meets one peculiar Sir Enigma Malvolio. Or what I'd like to call; five minutes of semi-normalcy before the Horrors(TM) struck. Only warning here is my unfunny running gag, take a gander of what it is:

With her shift over, Evie gave a swift goodbye to Grace and made her way out of the building. She's certain Grace knew something was up, but thankfully gave her some space.

Evie appreciated it.

Out the door and in the afternoon sun, the waitress tried to keep composure over the rising grief that choked at her throat. Her breathing stuttered as she wiped at her eyes in a futile attempt to stop the tears from dropping down.

Crying outside her workplace wasn't what she wanted to do today, but her sorrow seemed to disagree. Sniffling, she turned to make haste back to her apartment, only to be stopped by a voice she'd recently gotten acquainted with.

"Jolly Ho, Ms Jackson!" Mr. Malvolio greeted from behind her. Evie turned around as soon as she had been addressed by the man.

He was leaning his shoulder against a pillar, his rounded handle cane acting as extra support. Or maybe it was for show, she couldn't be sure.

Facing him, she could see he was wearing the same dark blue tuxedo suit he had been wearing the night prior. Now in the sunlight and not in the dim-lighted event, she could could see that his hair was indeed dark, as well as his eyes. And now that they face-to-face, she was surprised by the confirmation that, yes; Mr. Malvolio was, in fact, a head or so shorter than Evie herself.

He grinned with a friendly and overly excited demeanor, though slightly better than a lecherous gaze, it was still oddly off-putting to Evie. She took note that he was older than her; late 30s at the least, maybe forties though.

Even so, she acknowledged his presence with a surprised, "Mr. Malvolio?"

"Please, Ms Jackson, call me Sir- oh," Malvolio paused, grin gone and lips thinned as his eyes narrowed, inspecting her face, "Uh, um, not to alarm you dear, but, hmm, your face seems a little... wet?"

Despite his clumsy observation, Evie swiftly wiped at her face, and not wanting to share her troubles with a stranger, quickly said, "Oh, uh, that's nothing."

Mr. Malvolio pursed his lips, scrutinizing her features, "Are you certain Ms Jackson?"

"Yeah," Evie lied, smacking her lips together, "I just had some tap water spray at me. Didn't have time to dry it off when my shift ended."

To her surprise, Mr. Malvolio didn't question her shitty story, and instead seemed to believe her, "Is that why you're in such a rush? I must warn you dear, with that much haste, you might trip over your legs, and the pavement's quite concrete," Mr. Malvolio gave a small chortle as he added, "Scrapes and bruises wouldn't do so well on your fine skin."

Evie, in spite of being confused on whether that was a sort of jab or some weird form of compliment from the man, gave a half-hearted laugh back, ignoring his words in favor of the burning question, "Uh, Mr. Malvolio, sorry to pry but hadn't you said you'd be making your way back home?"

"Eh, we missed the plane," Mr. Malvolio answered, chuckling humorlessly, "Honestly, American airports are the worst. So Denise and I will be extending our stay for a little while longer in good old New York."

Mr. Malvolio gestured far back behind him, and Evie spotted his bodyguard, adorning a black and red suit contrasting her employer's, watching them from under the shade of a cafe umbrella, the dark-tinted sunglasses still covering her eyes.

That makes some sense, Evie thought, but wondered, But why are you here?

As if reading her mind, Mr. Malvolio added, "And I wanted to personally thank you for such a delightful evening. As well as saving Denise from her nut allergy. She may not look like it... nor will she ever admit it... but deep down she is grateful, as am I."

Evie took another glance at Denise, and even from their far distance, she could tell the only expression she could read on Denise's face was one of apathy.

Regardless though, she smiled in thanks of Mr. Malvolio's gratitude, which seemed so sincere. Maybe he was merely giving platitudes to pat himself on the back, or uphold a reputation. But she cherished what she could.

"That's rather kind of you Mr. Malvolio," Evie stuttered out, feeling like a damn that was cracking, ready to burst. Grace was right, she realised, Maybe my self-esteem's needed a boost from kindness for some time now.

"Please Ms Jackson, it's Sir En-," he pauses, face scrunched and unreadable, as he quizzically asks, "Uh, Ms Jackson, are you certain a tap is the cause of those tears?"

Evie wiped again once more at her face, though she stopped when Mr. Malvolio offered a handkerchief.

She accepted it, bringing the clean cloth to dry her face of the tears. Mr. Malvolio observed her with curiosity, and she absentmindedly wondered if he had never seen a person cry before.

With a small thanks she handed the handkerchief back, which he surprisingly accepted back into his breast pocket. He gave what she assumed to be a comforting smile. She opened her mouth to say something- perhaps an apology, maybe a hasty goodbye- but could not bring the words out when he asked with surprising gentleness, "What terrible loss has afflicted you to bring forth such sadness, my dear?"

Evie hesitated, a moment long enough for her to consider whether telling this man; practically a stranger, about the woes that drown her. One glance to his mature face marked her answer though.

With a shaky breath, Evie revealed to who would be the second person this month of her troubles.

"My mother recently passed away," she told Mr. Malvolio, whose very expression shifted from gentle to unreadable once more.

Here's more of my FC5 Bloodborne AU WIP, where werewolves are involved in Hope County and not in the usual fun way, no these things legitimately massacre people and are beyond complex thought comprehension. Paul and Silva established the Hunters who go on annual nightly hunts to downsize the werewolf population with Eden's Gate help... which has lasted for almost ten years now so you can guess how well that's doing. Also, Faith is a Vicar because Paul's previous one, Obadiah Teal, turned into a big scary werewolf (that breathed fire) [Originally this vicar was named Laurence as reference to Bloodborne but ultimately found a character of my own from Paul's lore to play the part. Obadiah was Paul's lover back on the Archipelagos in The Silver Chronicles but here he's a lost lenore (and future boss fight) in this AU. Apologies for any confusion]. Witness Vicar Faith as she prepares herself for an evening Paul vaguely bothered to warn her about while doing some introspection, and how she yearns for Silva's words of assurances... and, uh, ahem, touch. CW: Minor reference to past suicidal idealization (because Faith), minor mentions of past drug-use (because Faith), maybe two descriptions implying lack of self-care, sexual themes, and, eh, explicit horniness? But it's like a sad longing for intimacy??? I tried my best at keeping it consistent. Anyway, read below:

Green mirrored green, a pair of eyes gazing into the same reflected pair of eyes. Lifeless. Dull. Like her Angels had once been before the Bliss became what it is today.

Faith scrutinized the petite figure before her; in nothing but her undergarments, light brown hair flowing freely over her shoulder, the jewelry and veil she would adorn on herself laid unattended on the vanity, holding close the white shawls and garb that made up her image, which seemed so ragged now. Of age and constant use? Perhaps. Perhaps not.

Though, thankfully, her clothes condition were not as dire as the hand-me-down dress Joseph once gifted her, for what little time she owned it.

She wondered what had happened to it. She must have given it back to her brothers at some point, when it became clear she'd have no use to it. Had Joseph kept it, stored it away for safe keeping until the day he believed she'd return from this role? Was it collecting dust in some closet, discarded and forgotten, out of sight and out of mind? Like them? Or how she was now?

Had it been given to someone else? erupted a vile thought, Someone newer, younger and prettier?

When had been the last time her brothers had even visited her.

"When had been the last time he visited you, nuora?" Paul had softly, wearily asked her out of the blue once, as they stood side by side watching her brothers leave from the monastery's window after their last meeting.

Meetings of which were becoming thinner and thinner between duration. Enough time to greet, discuss progress of plans, then leave for weeks and months on end. Never enough to simply sit down and catch up on lost time.

Faith had given Paul a response full of puzzlement, one only meant to acknowledge the surface level of his question. One meant to evade a true answer. She couldn't remember what exactly it was though. Something along the lines of "what do you mean?" or "but we just did, silly?" or whatever mask she had to hide behind.

But she had found it to be all for naught, for it was naive of her to believe that Paul, of all the people she's met, would fall for such cheap tricks. And yet, he cared enough to rephrase his question, "When was the last time he visited just for you?"

Faith hadn't given an answer then. She couldn't find one now.

She huffed, and began to dress, slipping on the garb and shawls that made up Vicar outfit. Clothing of which felt so familiar to her body, as it had been amongst the most common clothes she's worn for nearly seven years now. The sleeves hugged her arms just as the garb fit her frame.

She decided to tighten the Vicar's loose attire last, focused on the jewelry and veil next. She pinned the jewels and gems along the hem of her shawls, the brooches strewn above her chest, and finally the pendant necklace, the most important piece of a Vicar, around her neck. Something that she would usually do instead of Faith.

From close behind her, long and strong arms would snake around to the front of her, to bring the cold touch of the pendant against the warmth of her exposed collarbone's skin.

It was not only the pendent that her Hunter would assist her in, but the laces behind the Vicar's back. Though, Faith mused, my adoring Silva would often struggle to keep on task in favor of more... pleasurable distractions.

Faith's lips curved up into a small smile, the Vicar gazing into the mirror of her not-yet-tightened and loose clothing. She felt an ache within her, and closed her eyes. Not to neglect her duties, but to... indulge, especially before tonight comes.

"You're a Vicar now, after all," Silva had once told her in their very room, sultry voice dripping with barely restrained desire, months after her inauguration and setting up this routine with this... new teasing and exciting tension between them. The ghost of her breath trailed along Faith's exposed neck, like little kisses, causing goosebumps to ripple along the skin. Silva's lips were close enough that it wouldn't take much distance for her to press down on her flesh.

She remembered how bated her breath was, the blood running across her cheeks. Silva must have noticed the red, as she seemed more enamored from the mirror's reflection. Hands on Faith's shoulders, Silva's lips whispered into the shell of her ear, "Here, as our Vicar, you can do as you please. And the Old Hunters will obey. Obadiah forgot that. So have the recruits. But a first hunter, like myself, has not, and will not. We are not meant to restrain our own nature. As long we do not shirk our duties in favor of overindulgence..."

Faith shivered in pleasure as Silva's lips grazed her skin, kissing along her jaw and cheek. Faith sighed, pleased by the contact. She turned her head to face Silva. Her hair was dark and skin were darker than hers, and so were her clothes. Vibrant green orbs gazed into the shining silver of the Chief Hunter's protege. Silva was Enlightened, just like her father.

"...Then we will be able to share our passions without incident," Silva stated, staring into Faith's eyes, slowly closing in

In those eyes were a beckoning; a need for something human to anchor her to this Earthly plane. A Hunter who wanted a Vicar. She, the necessary violence that bordered on the line between primal darkness and humanity whose insight of the world's darkest shades far exceeded Joseph's own... and her, the Monastery's only guiding light that gave promises of hope for seeing the next dawn, knowing yet clueless all the same, in contrast to Silva's sight.

They couldn't be so different from each other. So much contrast that the idea of any sort of union should baffle Faith.

And yet...

Faith gave one glance to Silva's tempting lips, and accepted the invite, crashing her own against the Hunter's. The latter recovered quickly, and pushed all her passion, all her want, all her needs into this one connection. Faith had hummed delightfully, and gasped when Silva's teeth bit down on her bottom lip teasingly.

Shamefully, or maybe shamelessly, she had moaned, which only encouraged Silva's endeavor. Faith, struck with the need to touch, caressed Silva's face, pressing her palm to hold Silva's face.

Faith was almost surprised by how quickly- how greedily Silva leaned into the contact. She smiled into the Hunter's lips though, amused and pleased; the strongest, most dangerous and powerful woman alive, was nothing but mush in the palm of Faith's hand.

Jacob would call this weakness. John would call this lust.

Faith believed this to be worth worshiping.

She broke away from the kiss, hand still on Silva's face. The eye contact they shared spoke in clear volumes of what they both wanted. She could imagine that this wasn't what Joseph had in mind when he sent her over here. Likelihood was, he wouldn't want her to discard the principles he passed down to her even if it meant a rival's destruction.

Faith knew she could stop this. That she could cut this connection from the bud before she defiled Joseph's Word any further.

She knew this, and still curled her hand behind Silva's head, rolling her shoulders so her loosened garb could shrug down to expose more skin. Faith tilted her head so Silva's lips could reach her naked neck, inviting her hunter to ravage at the skin, with promises of more.

With her hand around Silva's head, she guided the other woman to where she needed her attention to be.

Faith traced a hand over her neck, collarbone and covered shoulder. She envisioned the sensual kisses, wet lips pecking at her skin and the loving bites that brought her euphoria.

She trailed that hand down her chest, using her spare to grip her hip, re-enacting from memory how Silva's hands caressed her body, feeling up every curve, every spot, everywhere she could touch.

She hummed, shallow breaths escaped her lips, ecstasy coiled as one hand palmed at her breast, while the other reached lower and lower.

Silva's fingers brushed at her Vicar's clothed sex, and with little self-control to hold her back, the Hunter began to massage Faith's clit. Her lips and teeth continued to cover Faith's skin with a Hunter's affection. Soft murmurs of praise under a native tongue faintly spoken each time Silva tasted the Vicar's flesh, leaving faint bruises, but withholding the strength to break it.

Faith had extended her arms to steady herself against the mirror as Silva had her chase after a high that she was sure no drug could compare to. Her skin felt ablaze with euphoria, a sensation Silva had once admitted rivaled a Hunter's bloodlust during nightly hunts.

Those words had elicited a smug pride that she's sure she'd be shamed for if she expressed it within the Project's Compound.

Grinding against Silva, she could feel the other woman's own excitement digging behind her, and though her actions motivated the Hunter to please her Vicar, it was apparent she was focused on bringing out Faith's pleasure first.

Her legs shook as Silva further stimulated the sensations of her body, Faith's rapid breaths replaced by loud moans of building ecstasy, as Silva's hands massaged her breast and rubbed at her clit and cover her flesh in hickeys.

Faith could feel herself getting closer, strands of hair stuck to her forehead, the pleasure Silva's helped her build up accumulating, with a bated breath, a final release-

"Vicar Faith?" a rough voice belonging to a hunter called out from behind the door with a knock, snapping the woman in question out of her feverish state. The Hunter's voice, who Faith realized belonged to Nadi, continued, "You've been getting ready for a while now. Are you alright?"

Faith, though suffering from irritation, disappointment and a lack of satisfying conclusion to her personal indulgences, managed to reply while only sounding a little breathless, "Yes, I'm fine Hunter Nadi. Just struggles with back laces."

Nadi didn't sound unconvinced from Faith's response as the Hunter stated, "Very well ma'am. I'd just like to inform you that the attendants are being gathered up for this evening's service. And, uh, the Chief Hunter wanted me to add that one of... Eden's Gate' vehicles had arrived?"

Faith felt her blood run cold, and after a momentary silence, Nadi asked, "Vicar Faith, out of curiosity... where will you be going?"

Faith swallowed, letting out a calming exhale as she assuredly said, "Nowhere but here Hunter Nadi. I may have to make an errand to the Convent though, but I'll be escorted by your fellow hunters. Inform the Project members that I will not be leaving the Monastery for tonight."

Hunter Nadi accepted the answer with a small "of course ma'am" and Faith heard the woman's footsteps became fainter and fainter.

Faith huffed out in relief, looking herself in the mirror. She was a little red, and a bit hot and bothered. While the interruption was certainly personally undesirable, she was glad Nadi informed her of their now leaving guests.

Pulling the loose laces behind her to tighten the Vicar's garb, she reached for the final piece; the veil, adorned with a crown of flowers and three red gems. She always wondered what significance this Vicar garb held. It wasn't too dissimilar from a bride's dress, but far more intricate and detailed (and time consuming to put on) than the dress Joseph gifted her.

Paul said that it was designed to make her look ethereal to their converts, trustworthy and responsible, someone to seek guidance and find hope in.

Meanwhile Silva's only interest in the Vicar's garb was to get Faith out of it.

Not that I minded it, she thought coyly.

Many nights she spent in the other women's chambers, or they stayed in her own, pursuing a fiery passion after an uneventful service, or mending the Hunter's wounds after a long hunt. Then there were the quiet moments, where the only intimacy either shared was an embrace.

Neither could keep their hands off one another; touch was as important as their words, letting one know the other was still present.

Which was far from what Joseph had wanted her to do. Her role was to hold influence over the Monastery, to lower their guard and slowly introduce the Word. Keep the sinners from temptation until the beasts were eradicated and the Reaping came, and she'd reunite with her brothers at the Compound, and the false shepherds were both dead.

Though once her escorts return to Joseph without her, Faith was certain he'd figure out that she was one who fell for temptation. Especially if he finds out she confessed to Paul about the plan, and aided him in setting up Joseph's arrest.

Not for Paul though. Nor for the hunters and the converts.

Joseph had given her so much; a new name, a purpose, a family, a second chance at living. Once she was a girl who could only find escape through the needle, tip-toeing between the line of life and death. And he transformed her into someone else; someone worth more. Breathing a into her a new life that she didn't think was possible within her. Nurturing her with his word, with guidance.

She let go of Tracey for him, even though she wished her best friend had stayed. She had left Rachel behind for him. She gave him the Bliss and Angels. She gave him her entire being, to mold and shape in his image.

Sure, the family he took her into wasn't perfect; despite their similarities, John resented her for the attention and praise Joseph sung of her, and she wasn't naive to think Jacob cared for her. He's sat through two sisters; really, how important would a third be?

But that hadn't mattered to her at the time; to Faith, Joseph's was all that mattered.

And that was true, for a time. Just like it had been true for Tracey. And she would always be grateful for him, just as she had been for her former friend.

But she couldn't let Silva die. Not after three painful years trying to wake her up.

Here is the OCs become color quiz results for the main four characters of Wings And Horns; Archangel Metatron, Cadet Azriel, Xiang Ba'al and Jezebel Ba'al. Read below:

ARCHANGEL METATRON

By the finale, this is most definitely true for Metatron.

CADET AZRIEL

This quiz must know Azriel's future because damn!

XIANG BA'AL

Not really Xiang's style. He's a good dad but he's also an extremist in many ways.

JEZEBEL BA'AL

Jezebel's been through some tough shit, I don't think pinning all the blame on her is really fair.

[Meet My Character for A Radioactive Calamity Of Love, Bombs & Gore. Specifically Courier Ryder and Alph Dolen]

And lastly Meet My Character sheets for my Courier Ryder and Alph Dolen from my A Radioactive Calamity Of Love, Bombs & Gore series.

COURIER RYDER (FALLOUT: NEW VEGAS)

Her “Pronouns” are supposed to be:

She/Her

Her "Defining Features" state: Reddish-brown hair, brown eyes, has scars from past fights on her face, one noticeably at the edge of her left brow, wears riot gear with a courier's drip but not the helmet.

ALPH DOLEN THE LONE WANDERER (FALLOUT 3)

His "Defining Features" state:

Ginger, hazel eyes, predominantly wears wasteland survivor gear with Tunnel Snakes Jacket, after being ghoulified his skin starts greying and becomes sunken, starts losing hair.

Blank Template for those who want to use it:

[dootznbootz]

I know we love our morally gray characters. But the internet kinda ruined Circe for me.

Let me explain.

I remember I actually used to really like Circe's character when I first read the Odyssey last year. I loved her as a "helpful antagonist type" character.

But what ruined her character for me was everybody calling her a "girlboss" or just simping for her in a way? But they completely disregard the fact she technically raped a man. (But no one cares about that because male SA victims never get taken seriously, especially in media smh)

Now, I can never experience Circe as the same character because all I see is a terrible person being glorified because of her gender. And then people say double standards don't exist!

Which I hate cause she's a genuinely cool character. (From a writing standpoint)

Circe isn't a bad character let me be clear (in the Odyssey anyway. Cough cough Madeline Mil-) But I just hate how people romanticize her completely ignoring her terrible actions. And to think it's all just because she's a "hot badass female".

And this isn't just about Odysseus either, there's literally a myth where she tries to seduce a man, but when he remains faithful she turns him into a woodpecker-

People can like her CHARACTER, however, they should still acknowledge her bad actions too and hold her accountable. If we can all agree it's shitty what Zeus did to a bunch of women, we can also agree what Circe did to Odysseus was shitty.

Women sexually assaulting men is just as inhumane as vice versa and we have to stop turning a blind eye about it, even if it's fictional.

And I feel like people WOULD actually hold her accountable if she was a male character. Which makes me even more angry.

Maybe this is just a me thing, but I just can't fawn over a character and call them hot when they've done something as bad as some of the things Circe has done.

So, I guess what you could get out of this-

Please stop romanticizing circe.

Hold her accountable as you would any other character.

Don't be so forgiving just because you find her attractive.

Anyways, thank you for coming to my Ted talk and sorry for ranting

honestly yeah, all of this.

I sadly had to block Circe's tag on tumblr because it pisses me off how much people glorify her and/shittalk Odysseus with it. (I trust my friends when they have Circe content lol)

I love Circe as well. She's such an interesting and fun character but how people twist her just fucks with me so much. Also to make HER a victim just for girlbossness? What's so girlboss about having such a horrific thing happen to you?

I said it in a different post but you can thirst for Circe without making fun of her victim. People will call a victim of rape a manwhore or a slut as if what happened to him was a grand ol time. It's genuinely disturbing. He is shown to have PTSD from it (in my opinion) in the Odyssey. This book is ancient and yet it captures that better than anything I've read.

Odysseus isn't necessarily a wholesome, "goody-to-shoes" man. He does a lot of awful things. That doesn't mean that the suffering he went through is suddenly negated.

Even bringing up stuff with female characters, the fact that people will water them down so then they're not "problematic" pisses me off. Women can be horrible, even good women. Penelope is my fave but she's pretty awful in many ways.

Evidence will be right in front of people and they won't care. Crying, begging to go, fear, avoidance, numbness, etc. There'll be excuses anyway. "He's a guy, he's fine with it." "Men are sex crazed, especially back then." "He didn't try hard enough." "He should be grateful."

Honestly? What saddens me the most is that I don't think people will ever really understand what happened or even WANT to because they have their own idea in their head and refuse to see it for what it is. I mean Hades game did it too. It's really sad.

Circe and him weren't fwb. They weren't lovers. What about "heart full of grim forebodings" screams love? He wanted to save his friends and go home.

[weirdmageddon]

ur davejade posting has me Remembering and goddddd. theyre so good. thank u

i want to make a davejade analysis masterpost but the funniest thing with these asks is that theyre the ones that really prompt me to put my thoughts together in some direction and i ALWAYS find a new implication or connection to talk about. like while i’m writing the connections will just make themselves known. if i made a masterpost i’d have to update it every time i think of something new which defeats the purpose of a masterpost because it’d never be finished. so i just like to spitball into separate posts and just shove them in my davejade tag. i was NOT expecting to get back into homestuck with davejade at the forefront but i can see things now i didnt then

im gonna go off again because it’s so obvious to me on this jumpy scrambled “reread” that dave has a fat fucking heart-on / affection erection for jade. hes tryin soo hard to be cool but hes like this with jade actually behind the screen and she knows it

words and deeds of a court jester dude who totally has a crush on his childhood internet friend and doesnt acknowledge it (btw this is woefully incomplete for the sake of brevity but i could elaborate in another post. i actually have a draft (edit: posted) with a shit ton of more analysis stuff in it on why he acts differently with her than other characters):

the next day (chronologically) when jade messages him:

hussie commentary: “Dave's one-pixel-smile there means that there are literally more than ten thousand drawings on the internet of Dave and Jade kissing. That pixel literally made that happen.”

i mean … it sure is easy to assume how he feels about jade based on the way he talks to her and when his sprite only ever smiles one other time in the entire fucking comic and the reality of that other one was arguable since it was during [S] Karkat: Mental breakdown and its likely karkat was hallucinating it based on the content and context of the flash

nah this one was real. and it was from the first conversation we saw between dave and jade in the comic and thus set the standard for their dynamic. and remember old school 2009 dave was kind of a menace so it says a lot

this girl was special enough to him to warrant that pixel

jade calling dave a “huge baby” for him getting nervous about a piss while she’s his server player. he makes such a big deal about it while shes like oh my god just go:

and the absurdity of the situation being one of his favorite memories

i know pesterquest isn’t “canon” canon but it passes my character essence check and still contributes something of substance to my argument. like i can say this is not at all out of place if these characters were plopped into these scenarios. remember this takes place on the same day as the above, 4/13/2009. theyre the same age as above and have the same relationship as they did above, just in a different scenario that wasn’t possible in canon wherein they didn’t play sburb

Jade wanders away from that window and toward another one, whose view is exclusively centered on the rolling blue. She presses a hand against the misty pane and sighs. JADE: you know, dave talks a lot about coming to visit me here. i mean, all of my friends do but dave especially JADE: in his usual davey way of course, which means making lots of jokes and not sounding very serious about it JADE: "yeah im itching to put on my safari hat and come traipsing down to doomdeath archipelago to get my ass murdered by infinidog the eldritch retriever," stuff like that JADE: i know he really means it though! he wants to see me, just like i want to see him JADE: but its just wishful thinking

anyway daves reaction to seeing his isolated online friend for the first time irl cry because she has guests. its even better with the character sprites

JADE: we can play with all my toys and jam out to some music and stay up all night chatting with each other and oh my god oh my god youre here youre all here this is really happening!!!!! Jade's next laugh verges on hysterical and she's got tears streaked down her cheeks. Dave looks a little perturbed. DAVE: wow holy shit uh DAVE: its cool jade no need to get so DAVE: like this DAVE: kind of fucks me up seeing you cry DAVE: not that im trying to make this all about me DAVE: i mean uh

and so after mspa reader’s intervention, who do we see with jade the next time we see her?

dave. and hes goofing with her squiddles while grinning

DAVE: okay so lets see what we got here Jade's room is bright and cheery, fresh flowers in the hanging pots, curtains pulled open wide to let in the afternoon sunlight. Jade sits on her bed while Dave paces in front of a line of squiddle toys, carefully assembled in neat ranks. DAVE: this blue one is clearly in charge look at his dominant posture DAVE: also hes the only motherfucker not tentacle deep in his homie DAVE: hes an untangled buddy that is some shit really cuts to the core of like DAVE: DAVE: emotions JADE: its actually because the magnets in him are messed up, and always have been!! DAVE: harley you are ruining the magic come on

basically what im putting together is that dave was REALLY fixin to spend some time with jade. extending into her sphere of interests that he doesnt express much with anyone else; you can tell he really wanted to engage with her in a less irony poisoned way. he’s softer with her than his other friends and god forbid the trolls, he is much less skeptical about things when talking to her (he even questions why he just seems to go along with her eccentric precognitive statements but he doesnt change his attitude about it), he showers her with his music and raps to the point where jade is expectant of getting poetry from him. rap IS poetry. please realize that dave is sending her his poetry, regardless of how goofy it may be. this is the level on which im viewing this at and once you realize this theres no going back. there comes a time in every homestuck’s life where they have to see how dave interacted jade and conclude that he had a cute little puppy crush on her unbeknownst to either of them. and it was adorable. and now, in the year 2023, it’s your time to realize this too. no going back.

and btw it all came back around…………………nimblest son of a bitch who had the gumption to glue a nasty pair of latex cat lips to his face

for a reason that wasnt a joke anymore

don’t think ive seen anyone talk about this parallel at the end to one of their first conversations in the comic. maybe somebody did back in the day but i never saw it