#I just could not finish it by today but I am determined to post it before the year ends

[pethfics]

ESCAFLOWNE SECRET SANTA GIFTS

VERY, VERY LATE GIFTS BUT I COULD NOT LET ANOTHER CHRISTMAS PASS ME BY WITHOUT POSTING THESE. I don't know if this is a "better late than never" situation, but I still feel like I owe these two great people the gifts that I had promised AND big apologies for not getting to give them on time.

The last few years have been crazy for me in RL, but I won't bore you with dumb excuses, only these simple ways of making amends for not fulfilling my old promises. I will try to do better.

ESS 2020: For @gasexplosionatthescalpelfactory Some Measure of Happiness

ESS 2021: For @pikafwance Overdue Acknowledgment

Also, apologies to @radical-rad1986 for messing up ESS during those years and thank you for your patience.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

[kaysungshine]

𝓛𝓸𝓯𝓲 𝓛𝓾𝓼𝓽 ♡

{ Pairing } - Producer.bf!Jisung x afab.gf!reader

{ Genre } - NSFW; s/f/d(dark)*, PWP, established relationship

{ Synopsis } - Your boyfriend doesn't know any other method of stress relief, other than creating music. He can get so consumed by it, it can become the stressor. So you decide to present him with a new method. That's how you found yourself walking down the street in nothing but lingerie and a long coat.

{ WC } - 2.9k

{ Warnings & Tags } - 18+ MDNI, *forced orgasm/slight dubcon if you squint, everything is consensual but there is begging for more when reader might be at her limit so that's why I'm including dubcon (for those who may find it triggering)*, use of pet names (baby, angel, mine, my love, good girl & Ji), very lowkey needy/soft dom & romantic sub dynamic, worshipping reader, oral (f. recieving), squirting, overstimulation, unprotected piv (do as I say & not as I write, pee after sex too!), creampie, cum feeding & eating, fingers in mouth, pussy worship, I may just have gotten carried away with oral fixations okay? FORGIVE ME.

{ Disclaimer } - This work is in no way associated or depicting the actual life of the members of SKZ. It is a fictional piece of work, and I do not own Stray Kids. All works of fiction are loosely inspired by SKZ, and in no way am I saying it is true to their character.

{ A/N } - I originally was going to post a Hyunjin oneshot next, but I wanted to finish this one in time for Jiji's birthday! It's 2 am on the 14th where I am heheh. Hopefully you all like it. Han producing music will always be hot asf for me personally lmao. Barely proofread.

The air was cool, seeping underneath your long wool coat. In any other circumstance, on a late fall night, the coat would be enough to keep the chill out. Today however, it wouldn't. But you still kept walking, determined to make it to Jisungs studio. 

You focused on the clicking of the heels on the boots you wore. And the sound of the wind picking up, signalling a blustery night ahead. The small sounds calm your nerves. 

You were anxious about Jisung's reaction, he was in one of his moods again. You understand, you truly do. Juggling everything he has to on his plate, it was no easy feat. There were times he'd just let that dark veil take over, and shut everyone out without even meaning to. 

You knew he was in that state again when you hadn't seen or heard from him in three days. It wasn't for lack of effort on your end either. Every phone call sent to voicemail, every text sent by you was met with the same response;

'At the studio, I'll text you after, angel'.

You knew it was time for intervention when Chan texted you that he was only coming home, at 2 in the morning no less, to shower and change. No eating, no resting, just back to the studio afterwards.

This had happened twice before in the almost year you've been dating. Each time you remember talking with him afterwards, he always said the same thing;

'making music is my stress relief.'

That may be true, but it doesn't change the fact that he is also a workaholic. One who easily gets lost in the creative space he has built a career off of. And once that diligence sets in, it's hard to shake off. 

So here you are, ready to try a new approach. Ready to offer a new kind of relief. An alternative. 

You and Jisungs sex life was far from boring. Far from infrequent, you'd say too. But it surely was more... monotonous. You'd never complain about it, and neither would he. There was nothing wrong with it. It just happened at the 'perfect' times in your relationship. 

Before bed, after date nights, on monthly anniversaries, to express massive amounts of love, etc. 

It was never to celebrate happiness, calm anger, or comfort sadness. Never to relieve stress. 

You were determined to change that. There was no reason you could not help him in any way you could. And in this aspect, you knew you could. 

Still, you were nervous. This would be new, he never did well with new. 

Your footsteps stopped, leaving only the sound of the wind in your ears. Until you pressed your badge against the card reader, listening to the beeps, to the gears unlock. 

Once inside the lobby, the clinking of your heels against the vinyl tile filled your ears. Each step matches the thumping in your heart, you find yourself speed walking.

 You smiled and gave a little wave to the staff in the lobby, and they returned it. 

In the elevator, the sound of its melodic music filled your ears next. The whirring background noise the machinery made, stopped, as you reached your desired floor. 

There was silence when you stepped off. The flooring is carpeted now, and soundproof rooms lined the hallway leaving the night quiet. 

You took a deep breath and made your way to the door you knew was your boyfriend's. It was unlocked, thankfully. 

You let yourself in, seeing the silhouette of your boyfriends back facing the door in the blue lighting. 

He was all about ambiance in this facet of life, having LED's lining the ceiling. The only source of light in the room, besides the glowing screens of his monitors. 

He was sat in his chair, headphones on, hood up, head nodding in tandem with his fingers tapping. 

You took the opportunity to slide your boots off. Opting to keep your coat on, you brushed your hair over one shoulder. You took your badge from around your neck, and tossed it on the leather couch that was against the wall. 

Padding your way over to him, you place your hand on his shoulder lightly. He tenses under your touch, and turns his head. He's frowning when he first faces you, eyebrow furrowed together. 

When he sees you though, he softens. The corners of his mouth slightly upturning to a small smile. 

"Baby..." He whispers, sliding his head phones off. Soft lofi music is filling the room from them. 

He grabs your hand off his shoulder, bringing it to his lips. He's pressing soft kisses to your palm, and placing it on his cheek. 

"It's late my angel, why are you here?" He says in a husky voice with more volume. 

Your heart flutters at his gentleness, and you bend down to press your own lips to the top of his head. A musky, yet spicy vanilla scent fills your nostrils. His scent. 

"I'm here to help you baby." You murmur to him softly. 

That caught his attention. He fully swivelled around to face you, taking both of your hands in his. He gazed up into your eyes, a curious look on his face. 

You smiled down on him, feeling nothing but love for this man. You'd relax him in any way you can. You placed a hand on each side of his face, bending down again. No more words were said as you kissed him. As your hands slid down his neck, his found themselves on yours, pulling you closer to him. Matching your eagerness.

You let your hands fully slide off him, and tilted your head to deepen the kiss. Your trembling fingers were working the buttons on your coat. One by one, releasing the fabric from your bare skin. 

You stood up, letting the coat fall from your shoulders.

Jisung lets out a soft gasp, and licks his lips. 

Exposed to him, was his favorite lingerie you owned. It was a bra and panty set, satin and lace. Revealing. 

All white. 

Your boyfriends favorite part. He always said that the contrast against your melanated skin was a work of art. He joked about commissioning Hyunjin, if he didn't have to see you essentially naked.

So here you stood before him, presenting yourself to him. Silently willing him to do as he pleases. To take your body and use you to decompress. You were too nervous to say it.

He traces the swell of your breast with a finger, curving around the delicate lace. It's a simple touch, but it still sends a shiver down your spine. Goosebumps blooming on your skin. 

"So sexy." He mumbles, eyes roving your whole body. 

He stands up, kissing you desperately, and walking you back to the couch. Your knees hit the back of it, and you're forced to sit. Lips ripping away from his, panting at the desire in his eyes. 

All your nerves were gone. New or not, it would never change the fact that Jisung craved you as much as you craved him. 

He held himself up with his hands on the back of the couch, and hovered above you for a moment looking you in the eyes. 

Then he was sinking to the ground, on his knees, between your legs. His hands smooth over your thighs, making them pliant with soft kisses, before he spreads them open. Your pussy is glistening behind the lace, and he licks his lips again. 

His hand glides from your thigh, to your heat. Thumb brushing against that sensitive bud, the friction eliciting a whine from you. 

His eyes snap up to you, and he holds your gaze as his tongue licks a stripe up your clothed core. The tip of it flicking deliciously against your sensitive clit. 

"Mmmm..." He groaned at the taste of you, "All for me?"

You moan at his tongue swiping against you again, and again, "All for you, my love." 

His fingers hook underneath the band of your underwear, and he peels them off you. He's whimpering, watching as strings of your arousal stick to them. The cool air is hitting your sex, before puffs of hot air from his mouth is. And you're shivering again at the sensation. 

A gasp escapes you when his tongue slides between your folds. Lapping up your juices, and suckling at that bundle of nerves. You listen to the wet sounds his mouth is making against you, along with the broken melody coming from his head set. You get lost in it. 

Your hand finds his hair, and you're grinding against his mouth. He's whimpering and moaning with you, one hand palming at his bulge. The other has fingers teasing your entrance. 

You let out a loud moan when two fingers push into you, and your grasp on his hair loosens. He takes the opportunity to get air, panting, mouth hanging open. His cheeks, chin and lips all shine in the dull blue light. 

His fingers continue to pump into you as he watches your face contort for him. He's smiling with lidded eyes, basking in the fact that he's making you feel so good. 

"Ji..." You moan, needing more.

"My beautiful baby, let me worship you a little longer." And he's diving back down.

His tongue focuses on your clit, and fingers coaxing that gummy spot inside you. He's pulling moan after moan from you, making out with your lower lips, bringing you closer to the edge. Your thighs start trembling around his head, and he has to grip the fleshy part of one of them to stop you from squeezing him before he's finished. 

You're spilling over the edge, body alight and your release coating his fingers, and face. He's lapping up every little bit, determined to taste your pleasure on his tongue. Only when you start to whine from constant overstimulation does he stop. 

He's kissing his way up to your lips, leaving a wet trail behind him that you couldn't bring yourself to care about. 

You're not sure when he managed to discard his pants and boxers, but you feel his hard, bare length pressing against your inner thigh. 

He's rubbing his member against your pussy now, letting your slick and his saliva cover him. Kissing your neck as he's rocking against you, he whispers, "Angel, do you have another one for me?"

Of course you did, you knew you did. You needed to feel him, you needed to please him. So you started nodding fervently, eyes rolling in the back of your head when he sucked lightly near your ear and jaw. 

He had a grasp of his cock now, dragging the head through your folds with added pressure. Each squelch of your juices sounds like music to your ears, anticipation building in your body.

"'Gonna make you feel s'good." He's whining into your neck. 

He has your legs around him now, as he fills you slowly, both of you savoring the sensations it brings. Your pussy spasms around him, and it has him grunting. 

"Always feel so good squeezin' me..." He mumbled, letting you adjust, "...exactly what I needed..." 

Then he was pumping into you, and you felt it. All the frustrations he was holding onto, all the stress, all the vexation. He was translating it into the energy he used to pleasure you. Letting go of it all. 

You couldn't hear the soft lofi music coming from his head set anymore, instead the slapping of skin and heavy breathing mixed with moans were filling the room. You'd never be more thankful for a soundproof space. Neither of you were holding back. 

Your moans only being interrupted by quiet curses, and his being peppered in between praises of how good you feel for him. He made it known he was chasing your high before his, begging you to cum for him. 

"Please angel," he whispers against your lips, "need to feel you cumming on my cock."

His pace became quicker as he kissed you, and his hand slithered down to play with your clit. Your back arched off the couch at that, angling him deeper inside you. He groaned, and his thrusts faltered for a second indicating he was close. 

Regardless he was determined to finish you, and his tone grew more demanding, "Be a good girl... cum for me, angel."

And that was all your body and mind needed to let go, legs locking around him and body shaking. Your hands slid under his hoodie, and nails dug into his back. It was the kind of intense orgasm, that your moan got stuck in your throat, instead a rough growl coming out. 

You sounded absolutely feral for him, and you were. 

That was what pushed him over the edge, a slew of curses leaving his mouth as his hips stuttered. With a final harsh thrust, he cums deep inside you. All of the negativity has dispersed from his body, and he collapsed back to his knees. 

You're both panting, trying to catch your breath. You jolt when you feel his fingers in your folds, over sensitivity taking over yet again. He's spreading you open, hypnotized by the way his cum is drooling out of you. 

"So perfect, fuck." He says as he drags his finger through it. 

He's bringing it up to your lips, and your mouth opens instinctively. You're sucking his finger into your mouth, his essence salty but familiar on your tongue. 

His eyes are locked to yours as you work his finger, licking it clean. He slips a second finger in your mouth, letting you cover them in your saliva before he dips back down for a taste himself. 

You're whining around his fingers when his tongue glides against your clit, and your hips try to retract into the couch. Quickly, he has both hands on your hips, securing you in place so he can continue tasting you. 

"We taste so good together, my love..." He's mumbling against you. 

His words will never fail to coax submission out of you.

Your hand flies back to his hair, as good as it feels you're trying to pull him away. He's just burying his face deeper, tongue dipping into your entrance to make sure he's tasting everything. 

"Ji... s'too much... I can't-" You're pleading, even though you feel yourself succumbing to the overwhelming brushes of his tongue.

He hisses when you finally succeed in pulling him off you, "Please angel," He's begging again, "Just one more. I know you have one more for me." 

"Fuck, Ji, I-" 

He silences you with his tongue flat against you, another lick up to your clit "Please, need to hear you cumming one more time for me." He whines and starts leaving sloppy, wet kisses on your pussy. 

You always knew he was more of a giver. That even though it was you who had cum twice, and he only once. He preferred it that way. Even if he was the one needing the release more, he thrived more on your pleasure.

"Just be gentl-" You try to say, but cut yourself off with a groan. 

He's eagerly slurping at your core. Lost in the moment, all he has is your pussy on his mind now. Messily licking and lapping at every inch. He's shaking his head and moaning into it, keeping you pinned in place by your hips. 

You feel another orgasm starting to build quickly, clenching around nothing. He risks you bucking your hips roughly into his face, and takes a hand off your hip. He's pushing two fingers into you yet again, and you're seeing stars. 

His fingers curl, and his lips close around your clit, sucking lightly. You feel your release slip away from you, and your cumming on his face again. Yelling his name. He only grows more determined.

He leans back so he can watch the beautiful, writhing, mess he reduced you to. The thumb of his other hand is replacing his mouth, continuously flicking your bud. He doesn't slow his movements as you ride out your orgasm, instead picking them up. 

Your world turns white, and you feel yourself squirt on his hands. He's watching you in awe, whispering more praise for you as your juices spray over him. 

"So fucking sexy, my good girl."

"That's it, let go for me, let it all go."

"Knew you had one more in you, all for me."

"My perfect angel."

It's when you start to slip into that floaty space that he finally stops. He doesn't want you too gone, he's limited in the care he can provide here.

He's positioning you to lay on the couch, and he's laying behind you. You're both wet and sticky, and heaving for air. Yet, it's blissful. 

You lay there for what could've been minutes or an hour, you weren't sure. You were content in each other's touch. Your arm reaches back to caress his head, fingers combing through his hair. He's humming. 

"I love you." You finally murmur. 

"I love you more, angel. Thank you for this." He says, and kisses your shoulder. 

"You caught on quickly to my idea." You giggled.

He laughed with you, "I caught on halfway through it, actually. I was just beside myself with desire for you." 

You blushed at that, and you were thankful he couldn't see it. 

"I mean you showed up in my favorite set..." He whispers and starts toying with the lace on your bra, his finger slipping underneath to flick your nipple, "In ONLY my favorite set. How could I not show you how much I admire you." 

You felt his length harden against you again, and he rolled his hips slowly as he gripped your hip. 

You knew the night was far from over. 

As for how you were both going to escape and clean up? Well that was a problem for future you. 

Taglist:

@eczlipse @sailor--sun @maisyyyyyy @jupire @prettiichocolateprincess

@meowmeowminnie @joyofbebbanburg @adieu-lisette @sleeping-beau-tay @staytinyluv

@lookitsjess @majorlymismanaged @kpopsstuffs @helloimacalumgirl @bbokarimenu

@bubblepop-stay @mauvemelon @ohhlittlegirl @ang4lheart @spnwinchestersd

@adieu-lisette @loud-minhoe @juwire @anylady-fics @antisocialties

@nebugalaxy @wowitsafemale

As always, please let me know if you'd like to join the taglist. And if you do, pretty please interact with my fics besides liking (ie; replying/commenting/reblogging). Although I will always appreciate liking as well! Feedback is always cherished! ♡

But again, please be gentle in your criticism! I am but a sensitive soul.

[pomefioredove]

Hiya! Hope you're doing okay, and take it easy if you haven't been!

For the flirty prompts starters list, could you maybe do: "Stop saying things that make me want to kiss the hell out of you." with Vil? I think it'd be a good one

Thanks!

(I hope you have fun writing this if you do! No biggie if you don't or if someone else already asked!)

GIGGLING SO MUCH

summary: "stop saying things that make me want to kiss the hell out of you" type of post: short fic characters: vil additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, Vil experiencing cuteness aggression.jpg, not proofread a part of this event

Vil considers himself to be an eloquent man.

After all, how one speaks is just as important as how one carries themselves, and every last inch of him, from his looks to his body language to his words, have been refined to perfection. Each a golden thread in the dazzling tapestry that is Vil Schoenheit.

And yet, despite that, he still can't seem to find a way to describe you.

Frustrating is not quite right. Epel is frustrating. Those first years you insist on spending your precious time with are frustrating. But you...

You are not annoying, nor are you incompetent. His usual vocabulary for the students of NRC is useless when it comes to you.

...And different is too vague.

Vil just seems to forget what to do with his hands when you're around.

You look so soft in the golden afternoon light of the lounge, which is distracting enough as it is. Now you're giggling in the way you do, and he can't concentrate, and... what was he doing, again?

"Stop that," he says, plainly, not looking up from the textbook he'd been reading. Or trying to, anyway. He'd lost his place some time ago.

You make this... sound, this confused little hum, and he pictures you tilting your head to the side like a puppy. Sevens, you're just so...

He huffs. "I said, stop,"

"Stop what?"

Clueless little thing. Vil sighs, finding it within himself to make eye contact. He'd given up on finishing this assignment early, anyway.

"You know what,"

You stare back, unblinking. Are you really so oblivious? No, there's no way you aren't doing this on purpose, whatever it is, just to get on his nerves. Did those friends of yours put you up to this?

He should scold you. He invited you to study with him, a luxury which many would pay millions for, and here you are, being...

Ugh. He still can't think of the right word.

"Am I being too loud?" you ask, a confused lilt in your voice.

Sevens, you are so dense, he wants to just grab you and squeeze you like a stress ball until a thought comes out of that empty head.

The thought of that is no help. If anything, it just bothers him more.

He pinches the bridge of his nose. Are you really not doing this on purpose? "No. You're distracting me,"

"Oh... sorry,"

...In such a soft, meek little tone, like you really feel bad about it, looking up at him with those eyes of yours... ugh. He wants to bite you, squeeze you in his arms until this overwhelming, restless feeling passes. You're so...

"It's... fine," Vil relents. "I don't think I would've gotten much done today, anyway."

You actually tilt your head to the side this time, worsening his condition. "Something on your mind?"

Sevens, what are you doing to him? He can't sit still. He pictures himself reaching across the table to pinch your cheeks, to kiss that sweet, worried expression off your face. The effect you have...

And you're not even doing anything!

"No," he says, his voice strained with the weight of the lie. "Just burnout. It's a busy time of year for me."

You seem to take that as a cue, standing from your seat with wide eyes and holding out a hand, much to his chagrin.

"You should be resting, then. Overworking yourself will only make things worse. Come on, let's go back,"

Such a determined expression on that pretty face of yours. There's just something about how you respond so innocently, so intent on caring for him, you're...

You're so...

Vil feels his heart drop. Oh, Sevens. That's the word.

You're so cute.

"Stop that," he snaps. He can feel his face warming. "This is the last time I'll ask."

A little flash of annoyance crosses your face at his dismissal. How adorable...

"Stop what?" You repeat.

Even your scoff is cute. His face feels hot. He can handle beautiful. Gorgeous, pretty, sexy, even, But not cute. And now he's getting himself all worked up over it, and you're being so sweet, and...

"Stop saying things that make me want to kiss the hell out of you!"

Nothing has ever had such an effect on him before.

After all, it would take something incredible to fluster Vil- and here he is, blurting out every thought he has, blushing like a schoolgirl as he realizes what just came out of his mouth.

Vil Schoenheit, suddenly terrified of being rejected. It was as if he'd woken up in a parallel universe.

Or died, and went to his own personal Hell.

The shock slowly wears off your face, and you... laugh.

You laugh.

"You're very forward,"

"I'll take that as a compliment, and not the way you meant it," he mumbles, crossing his arms over his chest. "Though I'm failing to find what's so amusing."

You move around the table to sit next to him, eyes gleaming. "How would you like me to react, then?"

Vil stares back. Was that... flirtation? Perhaps you're not so oblivious, after all...

But still cute.

Still very cute.

He sighs, though there's a smile playing at his lips now. "Save me the embarrassment of being rejected,"

"Hmm... I suppose that can be arranged,"

And with that, he cups your face in his hands and draws you in for that kiss.

[jxwl4k]

Hay! Heh, I am a fan about your post, and i was wondering if you can do a bakugou x y/n post where they are 25 and have a 6 year old son named kanji that looks and acts like bakugou, and they are at a grocery store and kanji sees a toy and makes a BIG tantrum embarrassing Y/n, and bakugou let's out his strict father side, aka bakugou is 1 hero, so... yeah.... rich.. THANK YOU 😭

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ tantrums .𖥔 ݁ ˖

☘︎ . . . genre. fluff

☘︎ . . . pairings. timeskip!bakugou x reader

☘︎ . . . requested? yes by anon

⤿ bakugou may be japan’s number one hero, but parenting his son kanji is a new battle.

At 25, Bakugou Katsuki had accomplished many things. He was Japan’s Number One Hero, the face of countless campaigns, and had won battles most couldn’t dream of. But right now, standing in the middle of a crowded grocery store, he was locked in the ultimate showdown—with his 6-year-old son, Kanji.

“Kanji, no,” you said firmly, crouching down to his level, trying to reason with him. “You already have enough toys at home. We’re not getting this today.”

Kanji, however, was Bakugou’s child through and through. With spiky blond hair and fiery red eyes that mirrored his father’s, he was a little ball of determination and stubbornness. Holding a brightly colored action figure, he puffed out his cheeks and shouted, “But I want it!”

The other shoppers were already starting to stare. Some whispered to each other, noticing the resemblance between Kanji and the explosive hero standing a few feet away.

Bakugou, who had been grabbing protein bars off a nearby shelf, turned at the sound of his son’s voice. His crimson eyes narrowed as he took in the scene.

“Oi, brat,” he called out, striding over, “what the hell do you think you’re doin’?!”

Kanji turned to his father, his little hands clutching the toy tightly. “I want this, Daddy! And Mommy says no!”

The tantrum escalated quickly. Kanji stomped his feet, his voice growing louder and more dramatic. A woman with a cart full of groceries chuckled nearby, whispering, “He’s just like his dad.”

You groaned internally, wishing the ground would swallow you whole. “Katsuki, can you—”

Before you could finish, Bakugou crouched down in front of Kanji, his imposing presence instantly silencing the little boy’s wails.

“Listen up, Kanji,” he said, his voice low and firm, “you think throwin’ a fit is gonna get you what you want?!”

Kanji sniffled, his lower lip trembling, but he managed to nod defiantly.

“Wrong!” Bakugou barked, his tone sharp but not unkind. “You don’t get to act like some spoiled little extra, especially not in public. You wanna act like this? Then you get nothin’. Got it?!”

Kanji blinked up at his father, stunned into silence.

Bakugou softened just a fraction, placing a hand on his son’s head. “You’re better than this, kid. Don’t make your mom deal with your crap. Apologize.”

Kanji hesitated, glancing at you. Finally, he muttered, “Sorry, Mommy.”

You sighed in relief, your embarrassment fading. “Thank you, Kanji.”

Bakugou stood, ruffling Kanji’s hair roughly. “Good. Now put the damn toy back and let’s go.”

Kanji pouted but obeyed, returning the toy to the shelf. As the three of you continued through the store, you leaned into Bakugou’s side, whispering, “You handled that pretty well.”

“Course I did,” he said, smirking. “Kid’s got my attitude, but he’s gonna learn not to mess with me.”

You laughed softly, watching as Kanji walked ahead, now contentedly carrying a loaf of bread. Even in moments like this, with all the chaos and noise, you couldn’t help but feel grateful for the little family you’d built together.

As you reached the checkout line, Bakugou leaned down, his voice low and teasing in your ear. “Bet you’re thinkin’ I deserve a reward for bein’ such a good dad, huh?”

You rolled your eyes but smiled, the warmth in your chest undeniable.

[its-luna-noel]

your obstinate charge | astarion ancunin

Astarion has never been allowed to say 'no' before. When he does, he realizes who he wants to say 'yes' to. You realize that he could kill you here, right now, in any number of ways. He could slit your throat, drive a dagger beneath your ribs & pierce your heart, bleed you dry until you're nothing but a memory upon this land. You realize this, and yet your body relaxes in his hands. You trust him completely.

warnings: 18+, MDNI, afab reader but any pronouns, durge reader, act 2 spoilers, previous abuse, smut, oral (f! & m! receiving), blood drinking

word count: 5.3k

masterlist | link to ao3

notes: hello! i wrote this last year and posted on ao3, and i wasn't going to cross post since my blog is mostly jjk, but i reread it and was really proud of it, so here it is on tumblr! ty for reading & hope you enjoy!

Everyone at camp can see that Astarion is in a foul mood.

You arrived back at Last Light after your first journey to Moonrise Towers, finally having arrived at your end goal to destroy these tadpoles, and before you could all share your discoveries with the rest of the party, Astarion strode off towards the waterline, ducking into darkness before you could grab him.

You stare after him for a moment and shake your head. Then you turn towards the fire, folding your legs under you as you ready yourself for dinner.

Gale passes you a wooden bowl of the same stew you'd been eating since arriving in the Shadow-Cursed Lands. "How did it go?" he asks.

You shake your head again, shoving food in your mouth, and lift your shoulder in a shrug. "We found Ketheric," you explain, offering the memory of your meeting to Gale through your tadpoles. He grimaces as you share the images of Ketheric pulling the axe from his chest. You withdraw your mind from his and continue to eat. "We've convinced them that we're True Souls, for now. We'll see where it takes us."

Gale begins to speak over his own meal, airing his many ideas to the party as the others gathered around the fire. But your thoughts drift, and you aren’t even lucid enough to feel guilty for ignoring him; all you can think of was how you know Ketheric was somehow involved in your previous life, that life you can't remember. Determination begins to burn deep in your chest; you must find out what this all means.

Before you can try to sort out your disordered thoughts, Karlach plops down beside you, the heat of her warming you on all sides as she digs into her stew.

"Hey," she says through a mouth full of food, "what's wrong with Fangs?"

You shrug, pulling apart your warm roll of bread. "How am I supposed to know?"

"'Cause you're all cozy with him, or whatever." She looks at you, her bright eyes keen and knowing. "Whatever happened today, you know what must be bothering him. Maybe you should go check on him."

You almost laugh. "He doesn't want to see me," you tell her.

She gives you a stern look before returning to her meal. "Just think about it, soldier," is all she says.

You all finish your meal and talk about your plan for the next day before retiring to your own tents for the night. You change out of your armor and clean it, rubbing off stubborn stains of goblin blood. You try to lose yourself to sleep, but it does not take you, with your many worries for the next day. And, even though you don't want to, you can't help but think about what Karlach said.

"Maybe you should go check on him."

So, unable to sleep, and unable to think of anything else to do, you leave your tent and make your way towards Astarion's.

You walk over, the chill of the night making you shiver. You almost hope to find the tent closed up for the night, to find him already trancing for the night, but the entrance is still tied open. You peek inside, expecting to find your companion reclined and reading a book by candle light; you try to prepare yourself for whatever sly flirtation he has for you.

Instead, you find the tent empty.

You frown; you know that Astarion hasn't been able to find suitable prey since you'd arrived in the cursed lands, so you can't imagine that he's out prowling. You stand there for a moment, at a loss and trying to decide whether or not to just go to bed. But you sigh, as whatever blackened heart inside you pushes you forward.

You, thanking your lucky stars that he wasn't trying to hide when he skulked away, follow Astarion's tracks down towards the river.

—

You find him propped up on his elbows across the river, staring out across the water. You don't bother to try and hide your footsteps; you simply cross the river, taking care not to lose your footing on the loose stones along the way.

"Come to collect your obstinate charge?" Astarion sneers without looking at you as you approach.

You sit beside him, tucking your knees against your chest. You try to keep your dirty shoes off his cloak that he spread out on the ground beneath him.

Those words are familiar enough; that dreadful Drow called him that to your face when she asked for him to bite her. "She really got to you, huh?" you ask, resting your cheek on one knee as you turn to look at him.

He's still in his armor from the day, and he'd found a bottle of wine somewhere in the crates surrounding Last Light on his journey over. It's something cheap, something you're sure he finds repulsive, even as he drinks. He stares across the river towards the inn, and he's silent for so long you resign yourself to the fact that he's ignoring you. Then, as you're deciding if you should just leave him to his thoughts, he shakes his head and says, "I can't get it out of my head. The way she leered at me."

You watch him, waiting for him to speak. He swirls the bottle of wine and takes a drink, then grimaces at the taste and lets the bottle hang loosely from his fingers. He doesn't look at you as he thinks.

Eventually, he sighs, the sound light and airy. "I was being too precious, wasn't I?" You can tell he's trying to convince himself, to talk himself back into some dark line of thinking he'd grown accustomed since being turned. "We could have used her potion. A moment of unpleasantry doesn't matter if there's a fine reward. I should have just gritted my teeth as always and let her have me for a bit."

You feel your heart sink at his words. "Astarion," you whisper, unsure of what to say next.

He barks out a laugh, a short, derisive sound. "Oh, darling, I don't need your pity." He throws the bottle of wine towards the water, and the glass shatters against the river bank. Wine starts to spill into the river, spreading like blood.

You shake your head, confused by how quickly his mood shifts. You struggle to keep up. "Astarion, I don't pity you," you tell him. You turn to face him properly, to take this conversation seriously. He still doesn't look at you. "But you have the right to say 'no.' You don't belong to anyone anymore."

At those words, he shifts his gaze from the waterline to finally examine you. His eyes are narrow, the expression behind them inscrutable. "You really believe that, don't you?" He laughs again, but he's not amused. His voice is bitter as he continues, "Yes, well, I must admit, a part of me feels sick when I think about getting on my back for breadcrumbs again." He tilts his head, suddenly curious. "But you, you could have convinced me to take the deal. To just push through and get the potion, and we would've all just moved along with our lives. Why didn't you?"

"Didn't you hear me?" Your voice is slightly incredulous. "You said 'no,' and that's your right. I'm not here to force you to do anything." You, now, laugh without mirth. You know enough about not having a say in what you do, with your strange visitors haunting your every move.

Astarion is still watching you. He has to admit to himself, he doesn't understand you one bit. No one in this life or his last ever showed him any ounce of kindness; even the gods couldn't be bothered to look his way. But here you are, some insignificant wanderer with gore for brains and a strong propensity towards gruesome violence, sitting beside him and telling him he had a choice. "But you could've," he pushes, and he suddenly reaches forward, dragging aside your neckline to reveal bruised teeth marks from where he'd last fed. You stiffen slightly, caught off guard by his quick movements. "What have I done to deserve any of your grace? I deceived you, tried to hunt you in the night, have taken everything I could from you with no promises to give any of it back."

"Astarion," you whisper, and for the first time, you think you are finally seeing him. "What makes you think you have to earn it?"

And that, finally, is what breaks him.

He rises up on his knees and takes your face in his hands, and there's a frenzy there, a desperation that makes you tense. You think he might shake you so hard your ruined brain will rattle around in your skull, and you watch the thought form behind his eyes. You realize that he could kill you here, right now, in any number of ways. He could slit your throat, drive a dagger beneath your ribs & pierce your heart, bleed you dry until you're nothing but a memory upon this land.

You realize this, and yet your body relaxes in his hands.

You trust him completely.

The look in his eyes is suddenly wild, confused, exasperated. Of all the prey he's ever hunted before, why did you have to be the one he showed the monster to? Anyone else would've run; you should've, too. Yet here you sit, on this riverbank beside him, looking into his blood-red eyes because he's led you right where he wanted you. Surely you aren't too stupid to see that.

Yet here you are, staring at him with those big, trusting eyes as he holds your life in his hands.

There must be something wrong with you, he decides then. Beyond the parasite in your head, and beyond the spells of very bloody memory loss; there is something fundamentally, elementally, seriously wrong with you. It's the only way he can explain to himself why you're still sitting here, prey in its predator's sight, unwavering & unafraid.

At that look in your eyes, that brave, corruptible expression, he leans closer. He says your name, and it's like the last prayer he'll ever speak. "Tell me what you want," he whispers, and he's almost begging.

You lean in, too, until the tip of your nose brushes the slope of his, and you breathe, "You."

And then he's kissing you, and you let out a small gasp, because you can't believe this beautiful elf has chosen you. He breathes you in, his hands still cupping your cheeks, and you thread your fingers into his silvery curls, beckoning him closer. One of his hands traces down your side, wrapping around your waist and holding you closer so you can feel the lines of him through your camp clothes. You gasp again, surprised by his unyielding grip, and his tongue slips between your parted lips, searching, exploring, tasting. You groan quietly, low in your throat, and his other hand traces from your cheek to your neck, fingers searching for the source of the sound. They find it, and they squeeze…

With his hand on your throat, feeling your pulse through the delicate skin, Astarion is nearly hypnotized.

He wishes that hunger deep in his belly would fade, would disappear and leave him to enjoy this, to lose himself in the moment like he hasn't in two hundred years. But it burns hot, and he can hear your heart beating strong in your chest, quickening as he moves against you, presses into you. It gnaws at him, spurned and getting harder to ignore, and you feel him bracing, beginning to pull away because he shouldn't do this to you— he can't—

You pull back from him, and he wonders how you could have possibly known his thoughts and braces for the impact of a stake in his heart—

Instead you tilt your chin and arch your back, and your hands in his hair lead him right to where he needs to be. His mouth brushes the pulse at your throat.

His vision flashes red; he can feel your blood thrumming against his lips, feel the seductive brush of each pulse against his mouth. He groans, and he wants to fight it, because gods he wishes things were different, but his lips part and his jaw opens, and he's biting into your throat.

A breath hisses from between your teeth at the sensation, at the ice traveling down your spine and chilling you to the bone. His mouth on you is unyielding as he cradles you in his hands, drinking you in in every way possible. Your eyes fall closed, and you begin to float, your thoughts becoming lighter than the clouds. You smile, because you can still feel him grasping at you, wanting you, needing you.

You trust him completely.

That hunger inside him pushes him to drink you dry, to tear your life from your hands until it burns in his chest instead. But he pries himself away from your throat, mouth dripping with scarlet and breath stuttering from between his lips. You can feel his chest heaving against you, can feel air fanning against your neck. You're still smiling.

"You," he gasps, easing you back down against the ground beneath you as he licks his teeth clean, "you ruin me." And then he kisses that smile on your mouth, and he's hovering over you, holding himself above you. It feels like a question.

When he pulls away, you open your eyes to see the stars painted over his shoulders. He looks predatory, like he's standing over the tattered remains of his latest hunt, but you see the softness in his expression, the vulnerability. He doesn't want to hurt you; he doesn't want this to be like all the other times, and he surely doesn't want this to be the first of its own terrible kind. He wants you, you realize. Not your blood, not your power, not your protection or your loyalty or your allegiance; he wants you.

You're ready to let him have you, if he'll take you.

"Astarion." You whisper his name, and he leans closer, his curls brushing your cheek. It tickles, and you giggle under your breath.

He tries not to stiffen at the sound. He forgets how soft you are sometimes, how gentle. It creates an air of innocence, though he watched you tear through goblins and cursed undead only hours before, and he knows without a doubt you can handle yourself. For a moment, he feels like the monster under the bed again.

But you touch his face, so very gently, and kiss him. Softly, sweetly, you call him back to you.

"I'm yours," you breathe, "if you'll have me."

And oh, it’s not even a question.

He’ll have you, he decides, pressing you back against the ground until rocks dig into your shoulders. He’ll take whatever you will give him, and when you’ve had enough, he will probably still be on his knees before you, begging for more.

Before that thought can scare him away, he trails his touch over your thin, casual clothes, grasping at the hem of your shirt. He pulls it over your head, leaving you naked from the waist up. He pulls back to look at you, to admire you, but you — suddenly cold and bashful — wrap your arms over your chest.

You hide from him, and he’s suddenly confused.

He examines the nervous look in your eyes, the way you're flushed in embarrassment and trying to hide beneath him, and all the little puzzle pieces suddenly click into place. This is new to you, he realizes. Maybe not truly and entirely; maybe you were taken to bed in whatever life you had before, but you don't remember that now. For you, with your absent memories and shattered persona, this was your first time.

It's suddenly all too much for him, and he shrinks away from you, leaning back into his heels. He holds his face in his hands, and he shakes his head ever so slightly, because it's too familiar a sight, to pin down bright innocence beneath his hips and drag it into the darkness. He wants to run away, to curse you for ever asking him to come to your camp and join your little band of misfits.

For a moment, he wishes he never met you; at least he wouldn't have to question every action he takes.

You prop yourself up on your elbows as he recedes from you, and very slowly and gently take one of his hands in yours. He's shaking, just barely, but your throat seems to close with a flood of emotion.

"Astarion," you whisper, and you gently pry his hand away from his face. His eyes are shut tightly, his lips twisted in a grimace. You bring his hand towards your lips, and you leave a kiss on his palm, feather light. "Astarion," you say again, "you don't have to do anything you don't want to."

Of course, you have to be the first person to say those words. The first person to encourage him to say no, when all he wants — for the first time in two hundred years — is to say yes.

For a moment, he’s bitter, and you can see the flash of frustration in his eyes when he finally opens them. But it’s gone in a moment, and he grins, flashing his teeth as he leans back in. “My dear,” he says, his silver tongue and honeyed words his only protection against the overwhelming confusion that’s threatening to settle over him, “I want this, trust me.”

He moves to catch your mouth with his, but you put your hand on his chest and stop him before he can. Your brows are creased, pulled together in concern.

The message is clear; you won’t let him use you to destroy himself.

His eyes flutter closed once more, and he breathes deeply, reminding himself where he is, who he is with. When he opens his eyes, they are gentle, softer than you’ve ever seen. You think, for a moment, maybe he has grown to trust you, too.

Slowly, without that same underlying malice, he leans in, close enough that his lips brush yours when he speaks. “I want this,” he repeats, his voice so quiet you can almost convince yourself you’ve imagined it. But then his mouth is on yours again, and he returns to his work removing your clothes.

His movements are slow, now, methodical. Like he’s trying to shake off decades of ghosts as he slides your pants down your thighs; maybe he is, you think. The fabric reaches your ankles, and you help him wriggle you free, and he tosses the clothing aside. Your underwear soon follow. Then, for one long, languorous moment, he looks at you, naked under the moonlight. Your mouth is red and sinful from kissing him, and the chilly breeze of the ever-present darkness raises goosebumps along your skin. Your nipples grow hard and pink, and you shiver. His gaze continues lower, to where you nervously squeeze your legs together in one last attempt at preserving your decency.

He wants to ruin you.

He brushes your thighs apart with one commanding swipe of his hand, and you shiver at the look in his eyes. Pupils blown wide with desire, he stares up at you through his lashes as he dips down, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the valley between your breasts. He settles his body between your legs, and he veers to one side and licks a line towards one nipple, catching it between his lips. The wind cools his saliva until you’re shivering, and you’re not sure if it’s the cold or the pleasure as your head tilts back, your body arching against the ground.

Astarion suddenly sucks, his cheeks hollowing slightly as he pulls at your nipple. You gasp, and he relishes in the sound, watching you bare your throat to him. He gazes up at you, admiring the sight, as his hand slips between your thighs.

Suddenly, you gasp when fingertips stroke against your core, revealing your glistening slick. Astarion groans, the mound of your breast still in his mouth. “All this talk,” he teases, reaching up and grabbing your jaw in one hand. With the other, he rocks his touch back just slightly, barely brushing against your clit. “You should be the one telling me how much you want it, desperate little thing.”

Your face burns at his words and his casual tone, but you can’t even argue with him before he sweeps his tongue into your mouth. He licks your teeth, and at the same time he presses two fingers inside you, and you let out a broken moan against his lips. You can feel his wolfish smile as he pulls back before pumping back inside you.

You can feel how wet you are, can feel it dripping down the inside of your thighs. He moves slowly, though, allowing the gentle stretch of his fingers as he kisses you. His thumb draws lazy little circles over your clit, and he catches each of your moans with his mouth, learning exactly what you like with a few strokes of his expert hands.

Then, just as your breathing starts to hitch and break, he pulls away, taking his hand from the wet heat between your legs.

The sound you make almost comes out as a whine, and Astarion laughs, watching you flush deep crimson. “Someone needs to mind their manners,” he chastises playfully, and then he lifts his fingers to his mouth and licks them clean, maintaining eye contact the entire time.

Your flush impossibly deepens, and you almost look away in embarrassment. But you can’t tear your eyes from the shameful scene, and you can tell that he knows how much it turns you on to see him like this. He grins again, and then he dips his head, disappearing between your thighs.

Before you can process his quick movements, you feel him lick molten heat up your core, and you throw your arms out to the sides, scrambling for purchase. You gasp his name, and you feel him chuckle more than you hear it.

”Yes, my dear?” he asks before running the flat of his tongue against your clit.

Your body stiffens, and your face lifts to the heavens. “Don’t stop,” is all you can muster.

And he doesn’t.

He eats you out until you’re shaking, falling apart under him. He presses his fingers back into you, three this time, and sucks on your clit while he strokes you from the inside. He stares up at you while he does it, watching you writhe in breathless, beautiful agony. One of your hands finds his hair, brushing through his curls with a touch that’s much too gentle for what you’re suffering at his hand.

You can feel your pleasure mounting, tightening like a coil deep in your belly while heat flames between your legs. Your moans are coming out in pants, now, barely intelligible noises that break against the riverbed. Your hand in his hair tightens, gripping for dear life and holding him there and pushing him away all in the same movement, and your back bows off the ground, your eyes nearly rolling back into your head as he pushes you higher and higher—

Then, like a band snapping, your orgasm rocks through you, and your vision goes black while your hips stutter and your core clenches and quivers.

Bliss washes over you, and you slowly come back to earth, and you find Astarion unbuckling his armor, nearly frantic in his movements.

”Astarion,” you croak, reaching for him.

He leans over you, kissing you, letting you taste yourself on his lips, his tongue. His hands tug feverishly at the buckles.

”Astarion,” you sound like you’re begging. “Astarion, please—“

He huffs playfully, still pushing off his leather armor one layer at a time. “What is it?” he asks, sparing one hand to stroke gently at your throat. “Do you need some attention? Aren’t you just obsessed—?”

”No,” you whine, finally rising up on your knees and reaching for his hands. “Let me— I want you to feel good.”

By now, his chest is bare, and he’s kicked off his boots. “Sweet thing, the thought of being inside you is driving me insane.” His leather pants slide down his thighs. “Do you want—?”

”Astarion,” you say again, your voice emphatic. You take his hand and bring it to your mouth, parting your lips against his fingers. “Please.”

Astarion freezes suddenly, staring at you with an expression of recognition. His eyes trail from yours down to your mouth, where his fingers sit. He can feel the heat of your breath, and he grows impossibly harder at the thought of what you’re asking.

It’s something he’s so rarely done since being turned. A pleasure he’s so rarely accepted.

Your lips brush his fingertips when you speak. “I want to make you feel good,” you whisper, and then you take two of his fingers in your mouth.

His stomach drops as he watches you, and his cock twitches at the sinful sight of your lips wrapped around his long pale fingers. You watch his pupils dilate, and his lips part slightly as you slide your tongue down, swirling gently. Your own desire pools in your belly, watching him watch you.

Please.

He nods, his breath starting to hitch slightly at the idea of filling that mouth. You smile, and you draw back until his fingers leave your mouth with a pop. Then you ease him back gently onto his elbows, picking up where he left off by dipping your fingers into the band of his underwear. You look up through your eyelashes, watching his chest heave up and down.

”Tell me to stop,” you say sternly, and he nods, understanding your meaning. So, having his confirmation, you continue.

You slide his last layer of clothing slowly down his strong thighs, watching every reaction your movements elicit. Watching for any sign of trepidation, of apprehension. But you only see desire, and one of his hands goes to your hair, knotting in your tresses. Encouraging you further.

You move your hands lower and lower, and your mouth begins to water as you follow the shaft of his cock. He’s gorgeous in every way, and when you finally reveal the pink head, glistening with precum, you have to hold yourself back from devouring him.

You tug his underwear the rest of the way off, and then you kneel in front of him, sure that whatever gods may be listening have placed him here in front of you.

You dip your head forward, wanting only to touch him with your mouth. With his hold on your hair, hopefully that would give him enough power to say no if it became too much. Tentatively, and watching for his reaction, your tongue slips out from between your lips and licks a gentle line along his shaft, giving you your first taste of him.

Astarion’s entire body stiffens at the sensation, and you do not move again, waiting for some sign that this was okay. After a moment, he tugs at your hair and very gently touches your cheek, and the look in his eyes is clear direction for you to continue.

You brush your lips against him, leaving gentle kisses, and then your tongue follows to the head of his dick, tasting his precum before swirling and bobbing deeper.

Astarion throws his head back, and he keens as you take him into your mouth. It’s a broken sound, but his hand in your hair pushes you deeper, and you obey. You drool when his hips cant forward, and you match his movements by swirling your tongue and pulling back before sliding all the way back down. He almost can’t believe the skill of your mouth, with how innocent you looked not five minutes ago, but then his thoughts scatter again when he hits the back of your throat.

He wants to press you down until you’re choking on him, wants to cum in your mouth and make a mess of you—

But he stops himself, pulls you back by your hair and kisses you, because he needs to fuck you.

He’s panting when he grabs you by the throat and lowers you onto your back. “Say it again,” he tells you, half delirious with the need to be inside you. “Say you’re mine.”

”I’m yours,” you respond immediately, eyes shining in the moonlight.

He groans your name, cupping his hands under your thighs. He wraps your legs around his waist, lining himself up at your entrance. Your cunt is still dripping for him, and he presses his fingers against your clit, watching you jump as he touches the swollen bundle of nerves. He laughs, a breathless sound, and then he places one hand beside your head, staring into your eyes as he slides inside you.

Thank you, he wants to say. Thank you for saving me.

But that’s much too vulnerable a thought to share, so he simply rocks his hips into yours, watching your mouth fall open in pleasure.

He’s perfect, you think as he slides back out of you before slamming back in, setting a brutal, unrelenting pace. He’s perfect and he’s here and he’s yours, and you want to tell him so, but you can’t even speak, so you squeak out moans and scrabble at his chest as he fucks you.

He watches you quickly come undone beneath him, and when he decides he needs more, he lifts one of your legs and props it over his shoulder. The new angle lets him hit a target inside you that has you seeing stars, and you’re a drooling mess beneath him, eyes glazed over with pleasure. His fingers once again find your clit, and he rubs those practiced circles, just like before. He watches your chest heave, and your lips try to form his name, but he’s knocking the wind out of you with every thrust. You feel him inside you, on top of you, all around you, and you know that this is dangerous, that this is the sort of magic that will keep you coming to his tent every night.

And oh, how you both want to tear each other apart each night.

You feel your second orgasm building, so much faster than the first, and you gaze up into his eyes, watching him fuck you, and it quickly becomes too much.

“Astarion,” you finally gasp, your voice pitched so high it almost breaks, “pleasepleasepleaseplease—“

The sound of your voice threatens to send him over the edge, and his thrusts begin to turn wild, frantic. He shoves himself into you until you come apart, unraveling at the seams. Your cunt clenches over and over again, pulling him closer from the inside, and before he can pull out to empty himself on your stomach, you grab his shoulder and tilt your hips forward, begging him to stay there.

Begging him to cum inside you.

The thought shatters him, and he moans into the crook of your shoulder, thrusting erratically as he rides out his own orgasm. You feel his cock twitching inside you, and you hold him close as his thrusts slow, then stop.

As you hold him, you press gentle kisses to his face. His forehead, his eyelids, his cheeks, his nose, his chin. His lips. He kisses you back, slowly, deeply. Then he pulls himself out of you, and you almost regret the sudden emptiness. But you can’t think about it for too long before he lowers himself to the ground beside you, and you follow him, still kissing every inch of him that you can reach.

”I’m yours,” you remind him. And even as you both start to clean up and head back to camp, he remembers those words.

He belonged to no one, but maybe one day, he wouldn’t mind belonging to you.

thanks for reading! -luna xx link to ao3

[nvrsaidiwasinurcloset]

Obsessed - Ethan Landry x Fem!Reader - Part 2

This contains SMUT - Minors DNI

Part 1

Summary: You help Ethan get revenge on his ex that made his life hell.

Contains: Angst, Mentions of abusive behavior, Fluff-ish? idk, Oral - m and f receiving, rough sex, dom!-ish Ethan (If I missed anything, let me know!)

A/N: I SUCK because I've had this almost finished for TWO DAYS and I thought I was going to have the time to finish it. Also, if there are any spelling errors or whatever, I'm sorry😫 If I re-read something I've written too much I start to criticize it and this would've never gotten posted lmao

After your night with Ethan, you woke up determined to right the wrongs that your friends’ narrative created. You felt bad for him, because he was the sweetest, and he didn’t deserve all the hate he got from people that had no idea what the truth was. And the last thing you wanted was for the boy you were starting to fall for to change his mind and decide on transferring to a different school, even after he told you he’d stay.

Your friend kept texting you all night, so much that you finally had to put your phone on ‘Do Not Disturb’ just so you could get some sleep. Once you clicked on her message thread and had to scroll a few times to read all the stuff she’d sent you, you got an idea when you made it to the last text she’d sent.

‘How could you do that when it’s obvious I still have feelings for him?’

“Oh shit,” you said, rereading the message a couple times. “That’s it!”

You were about to text Ethan when you saw the ‘Good morning’ text he’d sent you, a sweet smile playing on your lips as you messaged him back.

You: Good morning

You: What are you doing today?

Ethan: I’m going to lunch with my friends soon, wanna join?

You: I wouldn’t be imposing?

Ethan: Not at all. Plus, I really want to see you

You: Where am I meeting you guys?

Ethan: You think I’m going to let you walk there by yourself?

Ethan: Meet me in front of your dorm in an hour

You: See you soon

When you walked outside, you saw Ethan leaning against the brick wall of your dorm. You ran up to him, a huge smile on your face as he pulled you close.

“Hey cutie,” he said, leaning down to kiss you. “How did you sleep?”

“I wish I slept a lot better,” you sighed, “Your ex was texting me all night.”

“Oh…why?” he asked, as he laced his fingers with yours.

“Someone told her I was kissing you at the party last night,” you said, his eyes growing wide at your words.

“What did she say?” he asked as he started to walk, leading the way towards the restaurant.

“That I betrayed her, that you’re going to hurt me just like you hurt her, and that she still has feelings for you.”

“Well, she can choke on her feelings,” he bluntly said, as you started to laugh. “I’m serious. She’s made my life hell.”

“I think I might know how to make things better for you, but I don’t know if you’ll like my idea,” you said, as he curiously looked over at you.

“What are you thinking?”

“What if you asked her to hang out? Like, just say that you miss her and you want to see her. Then you call her out on her bullshit, but record the conversation,” you said, as Ethan took a deep breath. “I can think of something else if you don’t want to be around her.”

“No, I think it’s a good idea,” he said, “I’m not sure if I can fake being nice to her, though. What if I see her and I just blow up on her?”

“I think you can do it,” you said, your thumb rubbing against the top of his hand. “Just think, you get her to confess that everything she’s said about you wasn’t true, and your life can go back to normal.”

“Normal sounds nice,” he said, glancing up to notice all the people looking at him. “I felt like I was invisible in high school. Now I can’t get people to stop staring at me.”

“Maybe it’s because you’re so cute,” you said, half-joking as you smiled at him. “I’m finding it hard to stop staring at you.”

“Stop, you’re going to make me blush,” he said, his free hand running across his face as he tried to compose himself from your flirting. “I think they’re staring right now because I’m with someone as beautiful as you.”

“Who’s making who blush now?” you asked, as he opened the restaurant door for you.

He led you over to the table where his friends were, introducing you to them as you sat down. You recognized Chad from the night before, and Ethan was just praying that he wouldn’t say something embarrassing.

“It’s nice to officially met you,” Chad said, “Ethan hasn’t shut up about you all morning.”

Ethan sighed in defeat as he looked over to his friend, “Seriously?”

“What? It’s true,” Chad shrugged, “He told me you convinced him to stay, which I’ve been trying to do for months.”

“I think things are about to get a lot easier for him,” you said, as Ethan smiled.

“She’s a genius,” he said, wrapping his arm around you. “Apparently my ex still has feelings for me. Fuck, I need to text her.” Ethan slid his phone out of his pocket and unblocked her number, before typing. “Does this sound okay?” he asked, showing you the ‘I miss you. can we talk?’ text.

“As long as you don’t actually miss her, then yeah,” you said, as Ethan started to laugh.

“Fuck no,” he said, as he pressed send.

“Wait…if she still has her feelings, why would she spread all those rumors?” Tara asked, as Mindy jumped in the conversation.

“She doesn’t want anyone else to have him.”

“That’s fucked up,” Chad said, as Ethan’s phone vibrated against the table.

Ethan looked over to you before he picked his phone up. You could tell he was nervous, you were, too.

“She asked me what I’m doing tonight,” he sighed, “She wants me to take her to dinner.”

“Do you feel comfortable with that?” you asked, his expression unreadable.

“Do you feel comfortable with that?” he questioned, “You know how she is. She’ll probably try to be affectionate.”

“I’ll kill her,” you said with a straight face as Ethan started to laugh. “I’m serious…if she touches you, she’s dead.”

“Ooh, what if we stake out at the restaurant,” Tara suggested, “We sit far enough away, but we can still see what’s going on.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Ethan sighed, “I could only imagine what she’d say once she finds out it’s all bullshit. What if she says I put my hands on her or something?”

“You’ll have witnesses. I’ll come,” Chad said, as Mindy agreed to come along, too.

“Okay, I’m meeting her at 7,” he said, as his hand rubbed against your leg under the table.

Once everyone finished eating, you and Ethan were invited over to Tara’s. Ethan had other plans though, asking you if you wanted to go to his dorm for a little bit first. You agreed, because you wanted to spend alone time with him before he had to meet with his ex.

“Are you sure you’re okay with me going out with her tonight?” Ethan asked, once you’d made it back to his dorm. “I haven’t even taken you on our first date yet, and I’m taking her on one. It doesn’t feel right.”

“I’m okay with it as long as you don’t get sucked back in,” you said, a nervous smile playing on your lips as you sat down on his bed. “She’s good at convincing.”

“I won’t,” he promised, as he took a seat beside you. “The only one sucking me in is you.”

“Do you know what you’re going to say to her?” you asked, trying to fight the blush that was spreading to your cheeks.

“Well, I thought I’d start the conversation with the ‘I’m happy you wanted to see me’ and go from there. I think I’ll bring up the rumors and stuff after we start eating,” he sighed. “I hope she doesn’t deny it.”

“Just say you won’t give her another chance unless she admits it, because I told you she was the one spreading everything about you,” you suggested, as he shook his head.

“I’m not throwing you under the bus like that.”

“She’s already pissed at me. Why does it matter?” you asked, “Because honestly, she’s not my friend, not if she’s that shitty of a person. I don’t care what she thinks about me.”

“What if she starts shit about you, too?” he questioned, making you scoff.

“What can she say about me? Everyone will know she’s a liar after tonight.”

You talked with Ethan for a while about the right things to say and do, and as the hours started to pass, he was getting really stressed. He laid back on the bed and pulled you close to cuddle.

“We should probably go to Tara’s soon,” he said, as his fingertips rubbed across your back. With the lack of sleep from the night before, you were starting to feel really drowsy with the soothing motions. “Fuck, I’m so worried that I’ll just snap once I see her. I feel myself getting angrier.”

“You have every right to feel that way,” you said, as your hand rubbed across his stomach. “But I might know I way for you to release some of that tension.”

“What did you have in mind?” he asked, already having a hunch with the suggestiveness in your tone. You didn’t say anything as your hand traveled lower, running over the slight bulge in his jeans. You felt him getting harder the longer you rubbed, his hips shifting as he tried to get comfortable.

You sat up to look at him before your hand reached up to the button of his jeans. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about last night,” you said, your eyes on his as you slid his zipper down. “No one’s ever made me cum as hard as you did.”

You started to tug on his jeans as he lifted his hips, making it a little easier for you to get them down.

“Do you want me to make you cum right now?” he asked, as you laughed and shook your head.

“No, baby. I’m going to take care of you,” you said, sliding his boxers down. He gasped the second his cock sprang free from the confines of his boxers, your hand moving to lazily stroke it as he watched you, his bottom lip in between his teeth. “I’ve been dying to do this.”

With his size, you knew you wouldn’t be able to fit all of it in your mouth, but you were determined to make him feel so good that the only thing he thought about on his fake date with your friend was you. You started with his tip, your tongue swirling around it. You paid extra attention to the underside the head of his cock because he kept gasping every time your tongue brushed against it. Then you slowly started to take him in your mouth, as his hand went to your hair.

“Fuck,” he sighed, as he watched you. He thought you were always beautiful but seeing you like this made him even more attracted to you. Your eagerness to please him just like he took care of you the night before showed him how down for him you really were, and the way that you thought of a plan to help him get his life back to normal had him falling for you harder than he expected to, at least this soon.

Once you started to gag, his hand that was resting loosely in your hair started to pull it a little, the feeling making you moan around him. You just kept going, the drool from all your gagging starting to drip down his cock. You reached your hand up to stroke what you couldn’t fit in your mouth, as your cheeks hollowed and how head started to bob.

“Shit, baby,” he groaned once your hand started to twist a little. “You’re so fucking perfect.”

His praise motivated you even more, your head moving quicker as he struggled to keep quiet. Not that he needed to be, but he had so many different sounds threatening to slip past his lips. He was fighting to keep his hips still. It was taking everything in him to not thrust into your mouth. You noticed that he was holding back, so you pulled away, your hand still moving as you looked at him. Your eyes were glassy from all the tears that formed, your lips were swollen, and Ethan was just so in awe of you.

“You don’t have to just lay there,” you said, the slight rasp in your voice from all the gagging quickly becoming his new favorite sound. “I can take it.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, as you mumbled a “Mhm.”

You took him back in your mouth, and it didn’t take long for his hips to thrust. Your hand kept you from taking more than you could handle, but you were still gagging so much. Every time your throat tightened; Ethan felt himself getting closer to the edge.

“I’m gonna cum,” he groaned, his hand tugging on your hair as his hips stuttered.

You glanced up to see him as his orgasm hit. His eyes were fluttering as the salty liquid coated your taste buds, his head rolling back. The grip he had on your hair loosened as you slowed down, before you slid him out of your mouth.

“How was that?” you asked, as he tore his gaze away from the ceiling to look at you. He had a goofy smile on his face as his hands reached out to grab you and pull you close.

“That was perfect, babe,” he said, as he started to get a little curious. “How’d you get so good at that?”

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to,” you playfully said, as he chuckled. “We really should go to Tara’s.”

“Yeah, I’m thinking if you guys go to the restaurant early, she would be less likely to see you,” he said, as his hands started to rub your back again.

“We better go now, because you’re going to make me fall asleep,” you said, pushing yourself off his chest.

Once you made it to Tara’s, Ethan was way calmer than he was before. You knew the plan would work, but now you had more confidence that he’d be able to keep his cool. When everyone said they were ready to go, Ethan wrapped his hands around your waist from behind you. You turned to face him, a sweet smile on your lips as he leaned down to kiss you.

“Thank you,” he said, as you curiously looked at him.

“For what?”

“For being amazing,” he said, stealing one more kiss as Mindy fake-gagged in the background.

“Okay, if we’re going to make it to the restaurant before them, we need to go now,” she said, as you hesitantly pulled away from Ethan.

“I’ll see you soon,” you said, following Ethan’s friends out the door.

Once Ethan and his ex made it to the restaurant, you could feel the jealousy building. You saw the simple touches against his arm, the flirty smile on her lips. You felt your blood start to boil as you huffed and turned your attention to his friends.

“You okay?” Tara asked, noticing the pissed expression on your face.

“She was touching him,” you said, glancing back over to see them seated at the table.

“You really like him, huh?” Chad asked, as you felt your cheeks start to heat up.

“Yeah,” you said, your angry expression turning into a smile as you thought about Ethan.

“He really likes you too,” Tara said, as Chad nodded.

“Yeah, I told you, he wouldn’t shut up about you this morning.”

Everyone kept glancing towards Ethan’s table, but you were trying so hard not to. You just wanted to focus on eating the food in front of you, even though you didn’t have much of an appetite. You didn’t want to see him doing what he could to get the confession out of her, but once Mindy mumbled “Oh shit.” you finally looked up.

“Are they arguing?” Tara asked, as Chad nodded.

“He looks pissed.”

You watched your friend try to grab Ethan’s hand on the top of the table, but he pulled it away before he stood up. He searched the restaurant for the table that you were at before he walked over.

“I got her confession. Let’s go, babe,” he said, as you stood up. He took your hand in his before he turned to Chad. “I’ll send you money for her food. Is that cool?”

“Yeah, we’ll leave soon. You want to come back to Tara’s?” Chad said, as Ethan shrugged.

“Not right now, I need to blow off some steam.”

Your heart started to pound, butterflies fluttering around in your stomach as he walked with you. You weren’t sure how he wanted to let out his aggression, but you really hoped that it’d be in his bed. He led you out of the restaurant, your hand in his. Once your friend saw, she jumped up from the table and followed you outside.

“Hey,” she said, grabbing your shoulder after she caught up to you.

“Don’t touch me,” you snapped, turning to face her.

“What the fuck was all of this?” she asked, as Ethan tried to pull you away. “Honey, he doesn’t want you if he asked me out tonight.”

“Honey, he asked you out tonight so you’d confess to all the fucked up things you’ve said about him,” you yelled, your words full of venom as she started to laugh.

“Aww, are you trying to get people to believe that he isn’t some asshole?” she asked, and your hands involuntarily clenched at your sides. You were furious with the smug look on her face and the snarky tone. “Good luck trying to prove it.”

“I’ll prove it,” Ethan said, as he started to play back the video so she could hear it. Her face dropped, before she tried to grab his phone from his hands.

“Aww, are you worried everyone’s going to find out how much of a lying bitch you are?” you asked, your tone matching hers as she started to get mad. “You can’t just fuck up someone’s life and get away with it.”

Your conversation with her wasn’t quiet, and people started to gather around. They were probably anticipating the altercation to get physical, but you refused to give everyone that satisfaction.

“You really are a shitty friend,” she said, making you scoff.

“You’re a shitty person! You spread so much shit about Ethan that wasn’t true. How the fuck do you sleep at night knowing you’ve been ruining his life all year?”

“He shouldn’t have broken up with me,” she snapped, “But it’s okay. You aren’t what he really wants. It’s cute that you think you’ll ever compare to me.”

“That’s the reason I am interested in her!” Ethan yelled, “She’s nothing like you! You told everyone I was controlling, that I was mentally and emotionally abusive. That’s what YOU were!”

She was about to say something, when she glanced around and noticed all the people with their phones out, pointed at her. You noticed some of the girls that you’d heard talk about Ethan staring at the ground, disappointed in themselves that they helped spread the rumors. Some of the guys that had gathered around shook their heads at her.

“That’s fucked up,” one of the guys said, before one of the girls jumped in.

“Yeah, you’re going to make all of us seem like we’re lying if something happens to us. That really is fucked up.”

You looked over to Ethan, your eyes wide as he tried to fight a smile from forming on his lips. He saw her little reign of terror crumbling, and it was so satisfying to watch.

She suddenly felt the urge to save face, walking over to Ethan. He backed away from her as she sighed in frustration.

“I’m sorry, Ethan,” she said, as he started to laugh.

“You’re only sorry because people know who you really are now,” he said, rolling his eyes. “You don’t care that you fucked this whole year up for me. All you cared about was making sure no one else wanted me, but how funny is it that one of your friends does?”

“Oh, we’re not friends,” you said, looking over at her. “Good luck finding someone here that wants to be with you after what you did to him.”

Ethan grabbed your hand to lead you away from her, as she stood there in the awkward tension. Once you and Ethan made it a block away, you both started to laugh.

“Maybe I didn’t need to record the conversation with her,” he said, “Almost everyone recorded that shit just now.”

“I’m happy for you, babe,” you said, as he leaned down to kiss you. It wasn’t a quick peck like you expected, your mouths moving together as you made out on the sidewalk.

“It was so hot watching you stand up to her like that,” he said against your lips once you pulled away to catch your breath. “Let’s go to my dorm. Chad’s going to Tara’s.”

“And what would we do?” you asked, a smirk playing on your lips as he smiled.

“I think celebratory sex is the perfect way to end tonight, followed by you staying over once I tell Chad he can’t come home.”

Once Ethan got you back to his dorm, he unbuttoned the jeans you were wearing the second you slid your shoes off your feet.

“Someone’s eager,” you giggled, as he led you to the bed.

“You have no idea,” he said, pushing you back.

Your legs were hanging off the side of the bed as he pulled your jeans and panties down your legs, the aggressiveness of it making you more wet than you already were. He dropped to the floor, sitting on his knees as he moved your legs to rest on his shoulders. He started with small licks to your clit, teasing you a little just so he could make you squirm. Your legs resting on him pulled him closer once he wasn’t giving you what you needed. He chuckled against you before he started to swirl his tongue around your sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Fuck, just like that,” you said, your hand moving to rest in his curls.

His hands grabbed your hips to pull you even closer to his mouth, a squeal slipping past your lips once you felt your ass hanging off the bed.

“I won’t let you fall, baby,” he said, before his tongue went back to your clit.

You felt two of his fingers brushing against your entrance, a low moan falling out of your mouth once he slid them inside of you. You glanced down to look at him and saw his eyes on you. He couldn’t stop watching the way your chest started to rise and fall quicker and all the cute little faces you were making.

He started to angle his fingers just right, pressing them against the spongy spot inside of you as he suckled on your clit. Your hand pulled his hair, the other one gripping at the sheets as your moans got louder.

You felt that feeling starting to build, your body getting hotter as he pressed his fingers even harder.

“Oh shit,” you whimpered, as he sucked harder on your clit. “Cumming.”

Your back arched off the bed as the legs around Ethan’s shoulders clenched around him, holding him in place as he kept fucking you with his fingers. He slowed down a little once your pussy started to spasm, the loud whines falling from your lips echoing off the walls as he worked you through it.

Once your body relaxed, he slid his fingers out of you, and gave your clit a few more gentle licks before he rolled you over, your wobbly legs trying to stabilize themselves as your feet rested against the floor. You were still so blissed out, your senses still on overdrive as you heard the sound of his zipper getting slid down. After he took off his jeans and boxers, you waited in anticipation as he walked over to his nightstand to grab a condom. Once he came back over to you, he ran his hands over your ass that was proudly sticking up in the air for him.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he chuckled as he rolled the condom on.

He inched himself inside of you, soft moans slipping past your lips as he filled you up. When he stilled inside of you, he ran his hands over your hips as his cock stretched you out.

“You can move now,” you said, your voice muffled by his bed sheets.

He started off with slow, deep thrusts. He slid his cock out of you every time, his breathing getting heavier every time the tip went in and out of your entrance. Your hips started to move back to meet his slow thrusts, but he pulled back even further.

“Please, baby,” you begged, as you heard him chuckle from behind you.

“How bad do you want it?” he asked, as his hands moved from your ass to grip your hips. You huffed in response, as he slowed down even more. “If you want me to give you what you want, you better tell me.”

“I want it so fucking bad,” you pouted, as he smirked at how needy you were.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Before you could say anything else, he started to pound into you. He was pulling your hips back to meet his thrusts, your legs tingling as you struggled to hold yourself up. You were clinging to his sheets, whimpers flooding out of your mouth as he slammed into that spot every single time.

“So fucking tight,” he grunted, as you moaned in response.

Ethan had gone absolutely feral, one of his hands snaking under you to pull you back against him as he fucked up into you. He was squeezing at one of your breasts over your shirt as his other hand kept pulling your hips down.

“Are you mine?” he growled in your ear, this new side of Ethan turning you on more than you already were. You were trying so hard to form words, but they wouldn’t come out. The sounds of your wet pussy and skin slapping were filling the room as you felt the coil in the pit of your stomach getting tighter. “Are you too cock drunk to answer me?”

You nodded your head as he laid you back on the bed, your hands grasping at the sheets again as he fucked you even harder. Your whimpers were turning to cries as your legs started to shake, your orgasm taking over your body so strong that you swore you were going to black out from how good it felt.

“Almost there, baby,” he said, your pussy squeezing him so tight that he felt like he could bust at that feeling alone. After a few more deep thrusts, he moaned out, his cum filling the tip of the condom. He caught his breath for a minute before he slid out of you, smiling at the way your body was relaxed on his bed.

“I am,” you said, after he got rid of the condom and helped you get the rest of your body up on the bed.

“You’re what?” he questioned, as he laid down and pulled you close.

“I’m yours.”

After that night, your former friend only lasted a couple weeks at the university once everyone realized how she really was. She switched to online classes until she transferred to a college closer to her and Ethan’s home town. Your relationship with Ethan got more serious that he was bringing you home for the holidays. You were taking all these cute little photos in front of one of the light displays when you saw her with someone you assumed to be her new boyfriend, but she quickly walked away with him the second she saw you and Ethan.

“You think she’s going to do the same shit to him that she did to me?” he asked, wrapping his arm around you as you walked along the path of lights.

“No, I think she learned her lesson.”

[jamiepaige]

Constant Companions Closeup #5: CADMIUM COLORS

(also on bandcamp and spotify!)

Once again, welcome back to the Constant Companions Closeups - a series of in-depth dives into the songs off of my latest album, Constant Companions! Last time, I wrote a whole diatribe about my OCs while talking about I Wish That I Could Fall, and today, we're eating paint! Cadmium Colors featuring Soneji of Project Mikan!

Consider this a content warning: this post will discuss the pandemic, struggles with mental health, and suicidal ideation/attempts. I'm hoping it'll ultimately be uplifting, but the discussions at hand are incredibly heavy, and it wouldn't do this song right to be vague. Please be warned.

---

Let's talk about COVID.

At the beginning of 2020, I was in the midst of a long-term break from making music. It wasn't completely cold turkey, and I might not have even called it a break if you'd asked me at the time, but things were dire. I was still dealing with the burnout I'd sustained from the making of Autumn Every Day; I'd had my ego bruised by a live performance at a house party that went so hilariously bad it'd hurt even the most stoic performers (imagine watching an entire packed room of people clear out in 5 minutes flat from the already hyper-exposed vantage point of being on stage in front of them and knowing you single-handedly caused that lol); I had just moved across the country, and was preoccupied with trying to make ends meet as a 22 year old dealing with pure adulthood for the first time.

I was working a shitty minimum wage job at a discount clothing store I will not be naming, slogging through late-night shifts that wouldn't get me home until 3 am some nights. I had friends and roommates, but they were all just as overworked and exhausted and dealing with their own shit as me. I was mentally ill and unmedicated. Suicidal ideation was rearing its ugly head at my lowest moments.

Then, as I turned 23, a global pandemic shut the world down, my grandpa died with me being unable to attend his funeral, and I had a catastrophic mental breakdown that suddenly turned the voices in my head into a deafening cacophony of self-inflicted malice.

In hindsight, I think being 23 kinda just does that to you

---

Fast forward to 2021. I was back at my retail job with the pandemic raging in full force, my sense of self was held together with duct tape, positive self-talk essentially didn't exist for me, and I was the loneliest and lowest I had ever been. I was working the fewest hours I could get away with, and still, almost all spare time I had was taken up either by work or by my recovery from it.

This was around the time I got an email from Crypton, of all places - the people that make Hatsune Miku, for anyone uninformed. They wanted a remix of the song Happy Synthesizer for a Digital Stars compilation. I could not for the life of me tell you how I lucked into this or why they reached out to me of all people, but they did, and I was deathly determined to prove myself worthy of it.

This was August of 2021. I was staring down the barrel, languishing in what felt like only half of a life, fantasizing about death and trying to twist my thoughts into something that could at least keep me blearily shuffling forward another couple days. It was untenable.

(I'd also recently been diagnosed with OSDD 1b - this is a whole can of worms I can't really open until we talk about Breeze Blows, but it's important to at least mention that coping with this was a significant part of this turnaround.)

It's melodramatic, but I had only two options - make things again, or die.

I finished that remix within 24 hours of getting the stems, and I will gladly toot my own horn about it - it's really fucking good, in my opinion. Bittersweet ended up coming together in a mad dash over the next couple months as well. I was making music again.

Even though I was exponentially busier, things paradoxically got easier. I made the creative process a priority in my life, and not only did it give me an outlet for everything that had otherwise been eating away at my soul, but it struck a chord with other people who had been struggling as well. Things just... started getting brighter.

So I kept making music and living and yadda yadda blah blah here I am. This is all a lot of words and very personal stories of mental health struggles to say this:

One: The line between being an artist and being one of countless people forced to work jobs that go nowhere, that put their life at risk, that force them to strip parts of themselves away - it is a faint and transparent line built on circumstances of class and privilege and luck. Making Art and being an Artist aren't magical elevated states of existence, but something anyone is capable of if given the space to nurture their creativity. I believe the world should be a place where any person can do this.

Two: It's easy to convince yourself that art is meaningless in the face of the world at large. And yes, revolutions aren't fought by poetry and paintings, and people aren't fed through songs. But art is a source and a medium for connection; Art is how we find beauty in a disorganized and entropic world; Art is what we come home to and what words we write and pictures we paint and songs we sing to remind us that people matter to us and love is real and life is worth fucking living. Maybe that's corny and stupid, but it's true.

Three: So help me God, I will never work retail again in my entire life.

---

This is another song that is heavily inspired by artists like Prefab Sprout, Peter Gabriel, Kate Bush, and other artists of that ilk - very 80s, very flowery and sentimental lyricism, focused on telling a story. I greatly admire songs that aren't afraid to paint otherwise banal or ordinary scenes in abstract reverence!! I wanted the verses to contrast heavily with each other in that way, with verse one's relentless poeticisms (prosaic practice of depravity) and idioms turned on their head (suspending innocents above their disbelief) against verse two's incredibly straightforward depiction of a factory worker's circumstances.

The flowery language might have worked against me somewhat, though! I've seen a lot of folks that thought the ending was darker or much more defeatist than I intended, and while some of that is just inevitable with a work of art, I want to be clear.

Translator's note: this means "don't kill yourself, you idiot"!!

As you may have picked up from the previous post in this series, this song does heavily feature a leitmotif or two predominantly performed under pudgy pretenses. I'm not going to go on that whole novella-length spiel again, but rest assured knowing that this song, too, is one that makes me think about my OCs. Since it's something many people missed, however, I will take a moment to point out that this song quotes none other than Autumn Every Day off of my album of the same name!

Painting and visual art have been something of a reoccurring obsession of mine in my own art. I grew up around visual artists, have always been friends with many visual artists, and generally have a really intense love of it as a medium and a mode of expression. However, there's also always been a sense of... well, I don't want to call it jealousy, but it's jealousy. I've tried many times to start making visual art of my own, and I have made some things, but it's been a struggle, and I worry sometimes that my eye has permanently outstripped my ability.

However, in my quest to toss out grand expectations and simply have fun making art, I did recently pick up a cheap little drawing tablet! I'm excited to be a beginner at something artistic again...

Finally, I want to thank a couple people: Soneji of Project Mikan for the gorgeous, soaring saxophone solo; friend_xp for the mindboggling MV editing; and especially my good friend Que for the GORGEOUS painterly art that goes along with this song! Que's style was just perfect for this, and really tied the whole thing together immaculately!! There's no joke or deeper lore or anything I just fucking love Que's art go follow!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And with that, I think this post is complete!! If you have anything else you wanna know about, ask away in the replies! Tomorrow will be Breeze Blows with Marcy Nabors and Marlow Jacobs!!!

MAKE ART AND BE GAY

[princezzleia]

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ A Special Treat ‧₊˚. ⸝⸝

sub!Art Donaldson x domfem!Reader

synopsis: Art was always be a good boy but when he was disobedient, you decided to punished him, however, he was enjoying it like a special treat.

warning: sub!male, dom!fem, edging, handjob (m received), mommy kink, public sex, MINORS DNI

words count: 1.7k

A/N: after watching 'challengers' i think i need to write this. 'that scene' of art and tashi made me convinced art is sub and i love sub!Art akjssjsksk. i hope you guys enjoy my work!

Tennis could be intense, edging, and climax. It was like sex, so they said. You had never doubted any seconds once you are watching your boyfriend, Art Donaldson, played for a countless times.

During the match, Art, occationally, tooks a glimpse of you beside the court. He always made sure that you were close to his sight, so every time he looked at you, he could saw your presence. Undeniably, you were his lucky charm.

The upper hand of watching your boyfriend closely was that you were able to observed his determined and eagerness, which you never saw while you were spending time together. Art always be your little boy; obedient and flimsy.

His intense eyes always made you feel the pulse under your knickers. The groaning voices that he made in every hits, it made you trusting your legs closer and closer. Every sets made you on the edge of your seat. Trusting, edging, and when the last hit made him wins, you reached the climax.

Later then, you visited your starboy in his locker room for a special treat. You've always been his motive to win in every matches, if it wasn't because of you; he would've quit tennis ages ago.

"Hi, my starboy," You knocked on an open door for his attention, then he dropped everything and instantly reached for your hug and that made you flinched and giggled.

Immediately, he shut the door behind you and possessed your voluptuous red lips that he had been staring for an hours but unable to touched, let alone possessed them. He missed your touch, your body, and especially your voice when they gave him an orders to followed. It was a punishments that he was enjoying every times.

"Uh, no, bad boy," You pushed him back to kept a slight distance between you. Art instantly pouted his lips and made a puppy eyes that mostly worked to made you thawed but not this time.

"Ain't I be a good boy today, mommy?" Art said with a pleading voice.

You tucked his curly blonde hair behind his ear and swept some sweats off of his soft face. "Of course, you are, until you kissed me without my permission." You pouted your lips in pity. Well, he almost be a good boy for you today.

"I feel sorry for you, I've been thinking of a special treat for you tonight—tsk, tsk, tsk," You furrowed your brows in reproach.

"Am I gonna be punished?" Art expressed an amusement expression at a blink of an eyes before he turned back to his puppy face but somehow you noticed it and that was when Art bends his head down.

"Do you find a punishment entertaining, darling?" You used an index finger to push his chin up to faced you.

"No, mommy, no" Art said in a murmured voice and shook his head a bit.

"Good, but anyways, you deserve a punishment" Art made a sorrowful face like he doesn't enjoy the punishment, on the contrary, this is a special treat for him.

"Let's see what we can do in..." You pretended to look at your watch. "Thirty minutes before the car arrives" Art looked at you in disbelief, he was not going to finished in thirty.

"Sit" Before he could thought any further, he had no choice but to obey the order. Well, thirty minutes was challenging. Give it a go.

Art sat almost immediately after your order. His sweaty looks made your pussy pulsed again. After all this time you never get used to it and you didn't want to. You made an observation before you noticed his boner, which was the result of the swiftly kissed. Art always easily to aroused, he was just like a teenage boy in post pubertal, which was always adored you 'cause he was already twenty-one but sometimes he looked just like a naive boy to you.

"Hard, already, hmm?" Art looked up with a puppy face that begging to be adopted. You made a couple steps before got down on your knees and touched his bulge. You fondled slowly along the bulge line under his short, he panted and trumbled while you touched him. Art looked down and catched your eyes.

"Harder," Art said with a shivered voice. You suddenly stopped your motion as Art catched a breath like he had been choked with pleasure.

"What do we say?"

"Please, mommy,"

"Good boy," You began to took his short out of the way, left only his underpant on and stroke his cock along the bulge shape. Art flinched by your sensitive touched, he grabbed the edge of the bench hard as you could see the veins accordance with his hands and arms. He thrown his head back and shut his eyes in pleasure. You could feel his pulsated cock against your hand.

Art shuddered and panted whenever you stroke along his sensitive area. You reiterated your touch on his vulnerable part until you heard his breathing intensify.

"Yes, there, like that," You instantly stopped again and looked up to face Art's weary figure.

"Excuse me, did you just tell me what to do?" Art looked down and shook his head in denial.

"No, no, please continue" You continued your movement and Art got back into his position. You stroked along his sensitive part for a couple minutes until panting sound changed into moaning and groaning. Art grasped his shirt up and bite the hem of it to hid his voice. His abdomen rippled up and down according to your touched and it gave you a noticed of his orgasm but he won't get what he wanted, not now.

You ceased again. Art catched his breath in disbelief, he gazed down and saw a smile on your face. "Take off your clothes and stand in the shower." Art followed your instructions immediately, he swiftly took off his underpant and t-shirt before going to the shower as you followed, and stood behind. Art was tall and had a muscular body like any others sports men, but when he was with you, those are just a clothes he puts on because his inner side was absolute opposite. You saw the soul inside his athletic body like no one else does.

You reached to opened the faucet and let the water ran through his body. You walked closer until your chest touched his back, then you tracked your fingers down the waterline passed his chest, abdomen, and the final destination, which was as hard as a rock. You teased him by traced its head in circle, he let out a whimpers and grasped the hem of your skirt. Art turned his head to the right and kissed the top of your head then he reached down to whisper in your ear.

"Please," You tilted your head to kissed him on the lips, it wasn't a passionate kiss. Your lips traced up to his aquiline nose and up to his forehead, where you gave him a second kiss as your hand did its initial job.

"Face the wall and don't do anything that I didn't tell you to do." Art turned his head to face the wall while you began to stroked his shaft slowly. He let out a mewl voices while he pushed his left hand against the wall as a support and the right hand still grasped harshly on your skirt's hem.

You began to escalate the rhythm, examined Art's interactions. Once he was about to reached the climax, you ceased; it made him looks pathetic, and you both took pleasure in it. Who was going to imagine the picture of the dominant tennis player in those particular world, begging to cum in the most piteous way.

"Shit!" Art said deeply in his throat, you alternate a slow and a fast pace, made him whined and shuddered in pleasure. A couples minutes later, Art tighten up his grasped and tenses up his abdomen. A signals of his orgasm.

Art tilted his head to looked at you and said in struggled. "Can I- Can I cum, please?"

"Not so soon, it has been only five minutes." Art turned his head back before there was a knocked on the door, suddenly he looked at you again in shocked but you didn't stop your motions.

"Donaldson! Donaldson! You there?" It was his coach who knocked on the door, Art didn't know what to do but he wasn't resist you to continue, which was quite entertaining to you, your little white man was too horny to stop as if he get caught, it doesn't matter, if he cum first. Naugty boy.

"Don't answer." Art still panicked, adrenaline rushed through his entire body, and it made him nearly on the edge. "Oh, my god, I'm gonna cum, please, please" Feeling of fear to be caught made him cum quicker. That's new. Even though, you and Art have had an experience in public sex before, but you never experienced an interfere by others.

"Look at me." You picked up the pace as Art tried to looked at you but that made him more sensitive as your tits was poking out of your fabric as a result of the shower.

"I can't- I can't-" You teased him by twirling around his nipples and made him shuddered. "Yes, you can" you fasten your pace for the last time and this time was faster than the others. Art nearly on the edge of the climax as the voice of his coach still played on.

"Don't you wanna answer him?"

"I'm coming!, coach. I'm coming!" Art cry out with a groan in the back of his throat. "Fuck!, thank you, thank you, thank you, mommy-" His last word was faded by the result of his cum at the end. His cum was covered all over the wall. Art catched his breath as he loosen his grasped and looked at you before you smirked at him.

"Ok, hurry up!" Art realized his coach still at the other side of the room. He wouldn't have heard anything, would he?

You still used your thumb to twirled on his head in teasing. "Well, I think you enjoy your punishment too much, did you?"

"No, no, no, mommy," Art shook his head back and forth.

"Anyways, you will get a special treat tonight as promised because you're win, today." Art grinned like a Cheshire cat. "Clean up, I will meet you at your dorm, tonight."

You walked out of the shower and meddle in his bag before you grasped one of his shirt and a short out and changed your clothes. "You need help?" Art cry out while he was cleaning up his mess in the shower room.

"No, if you help, we won't have any dry clothes left." You smirked with yourself and thought you caught him off guard but you wasn't expect his response, which was strike back to you.

"Aren't you wet your clothes already, sweetheart?" And he didn't mean after you got into the shower room with him. He noticed your wet pussy when you walked in.

Oh, god. You hated him so much that he knew you too well and that made you love him so much.

[idontknowreallywhy]

Fathers Day 4 - The Other Father

(Parts 1-3)

This one has been brewing a fairly long time. The 3 short sections I posted a while ago form a perfectly good trilogy and we could happily leave it there…but I did sneak in a hint that a certain somebody overheard at least part of the conversation between Scott and his siblings.

And I’m determined to force Jeff to confront his many failings as a parent and make a start on sorting things out with his sons, especially the eldest. Haven’t quite got there yet (of course it would be terribly out of character for me to actually finish the story 🙄) but they are moving in the right direction at least.

It feels a little rougher than I’d like but I haven’t managed to post a whole chapter of anything for over a month and perhaps am a little wobbly on that score but… here goes…

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Jeff hovered uncertainly outside the door to his eldest son’s bedroom, pretending to be minutely interested in the glued crack running down the doorframe through the locking mechanism and out the other side. There was probably a story behind that, an attentive father should probably ask about it… he started to raise a hand to knock but lost his nerve and continued to hover.

Well, truth be told, he wasn’t so much hovering as leaning very heavily on his cane like the frail old man he always swore he’d never be. Certainly not at his age. But he was uncertain (whilst leaning in a solid and definite way) about whether to do the thing he had been so very certain was a good idea an hour ago but about which, NOW… now he was here… at the door… at Scott’s door… he was suddenly deeply unsure.

Jeff didn’t really do unsure and uncertain. That had never been his style. He’d always been blessed with a great deal of confidence in the plans that came to him and that confidence was justified by the fact he usually pulled them off.

Nor was he the kind of man who stood in corridors staring at inanimate objects while engaging in a rambling inner monologue.

And yet, here he was…

It was amazing what eight years of solitary confinement on a rock could change.

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One hour earlier…

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He eased himself down on to the lounger and closed his eyes, trying to fix in his mind the new version of that sound he’d dreamed of for so long - the laughter of his children. All of them. Together. Happy. Safe. The glowing memory of it had sustained him for years. The fear that he might have somehow extinguished it for good had kept him awake in the dark for far more hours than the mundane concerns about food, oxygen supplies…

Survival.

The voices were deeper now than the ones he’d remembered. Not quite so familiar. But still so beloved. They were still his babies. Lucy’s babies. They’d just grown. A lot. In innumerable ways.

Slowly, so as not to overbalance when gravity tugged at him, he leaned over and felt around underneath the seat to retrieve what he’d initially assumed was a piece of litter but now knew with a prescient certainty was going to be incredibly important.

“It was always you…”

He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. Or sneak around like a teenager. He was supposed to be in bed but he’d found himself desperate to breathe oxygen rich but un-climate-controlled air for a few moments. As the lingering agoraphobia of the depths of infinite space warred with the claustrophobia born of the small liveable portion of the Zero-X that had been his entire world, Jeff had found his heart rate increasing and knew he wouldn’t sleep without proving to himself once more what the sea breeze felt like on his face.

And he’d snuck down the back stairs because they’d hear his balcony door open and come to check.

Then he’d have to explain.

If he explained, they’d just worry.

And today of all days, when the void between what he knew he was and what he desperately wanted to be to them all had loomed and sucked at him so hungrily… Well. How could he ever be their Daddy again if they had to be looking after him all the time? It was all backwards.

It had been so long since he’d been a Daddy. Far longer than the time he’d been stranded. He had been a good parent, once upon a time. Lucy had said so and he’d always trusted her judgment. To Scott and Virgil anyway. With John he’d done his best too, albeit the boy could rarely be persuaded to leave his mother’s side, but they’d had a decent relationship.

And there had been a time he was Daddy to five. Little Gordon chattering away at his knee while baby Alan’s bright blue eyes peered up at him from the impossibly tiny bundle in his arms. Lucy’s chin on his shoulder, her cheek brushing against his own… he’d known his place in the world, they were blessed with the privilege of raising these little ones together.

And then she was gone. And somehow everything good about Jeff went with her. Including Daddy.

He’d as good as orphaned them back then, eight whole years before it became official.

Eight more years to regret it after that.

Miraculously he now had his much longed-for chance to make it right. But for all the thinking and regretting and self analysis of those castaway years, he still wasn’t entirely sure where to start. He knew what he had to mend, he knew when and why it had all broken, but not how to fix it, if it was even fixable at all.

And now in light of what he’d heard, he realised that whatever “fixed” was, it might look rather different from what he’d spent all those years imagining.

And if he had been more honest with himself… he’d always known that. He let the card fall open in his lap.

“Still true.”

It was. It was absolutely true. Gordon and Alan were Scott’s kids, in all the ways that mattered. They knew it. Jeff knew it. And for all his desire to compensate for the time they had lost, he knew with absolute clarity he did not want to replace their eldest brother’s place in their lives. He had no right to.

He had no desire to. Not now.

He needed to make sure Scott knew that. His knees creaked as he shot decisively to his feet and he staggered slightly before snatching up the cane propped against the back of the lounger and making his purposeful… alright, shuffling way towards his old office.

He needed to find a pen.

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And so here he was by the doorway, the card tucked into the pocket of his bathrobe, trying to think of an opening line. Some appropriate words to broach the subject.

Jeff Tracy was pretty good with words.

He used to be king of the press conference, inspirational teacher of young astronauts. A dreamer of big dreams that could recruit almost anyone to his cause given time. He was used to being in command. When he spoke, people listened.

Yes, Jeff Tracy could make words work for him. With strangers, anyway.

With family it was different.

Especially with one in particular.

Oh, he and Scott had talked a lot. When he was home from space tiny-Scott had been his shadow, trailing him around with his excited, bouncy hop-skip drinking in all his father’s adventure stories. In fairness some of those maybe became just a little exaggerated by the lure of the warm feeling the admiration in those sparkling blue eyes created.

As time had passed the skip-hop evolved into a leggy teenage stride, precisely matched to Jeff’s own. There was less bounce in it, but the sparkle was still there. The constant reminder to Jeff Tracy that he was admired far more than he really deserved to be.

But then it had all gone wrong.

Part of the problem with Scott was he looked like Lucy. He didn’t resemble her much at all, physically - Jeff’s firstborn was pretty much a clone of himself, everyone said as much. No. It was that he looked the way she had. When he was really looking. Something about the intensity of his gaze… the colour of Scott’s eyes may have been from Jeff but the power of them was all her. It was like facing down a strangely warming X-ray.

Yes, the issue Jeff had was that Lucy looked at him out of his eldest son’s eyes and it made him confused and lonely... and so very uncertain about everything that was important.

About whether he could do any of this alone.

About whether he had got a single thing right since she’d gone.

It had made him defensive and short with his son. And when he snapped at Scott, when the same uncertainty, the same confused loneliness was reflected back at him… that chased her away and replaced her image with only himself and he couldn’t bear it.

So he stopped looking.

And so as Scott took on her role, as his son parented far better than the father had the capacity to manage, Jeff backed away and allowed him to do it. He’d let his teenage son be father to his children while he hid away inside himself and focussed on the things that Jeff had been able to do long before he ever met her - he inspired strangers, he dreamed, he commanded.

And Scott had grown up way too fast. And Jeff couldn’t fix it.

There were some short conversations that came close to the one they really needed to have in the aftermath of the Bereznik situation, when Jeff had feared he’d lost his eldest boy for good. But the important words had got stuck in his throat and he’d had to settle for an affectionate pat on the shoulder. Scott had seemed to feel safer with Virgil present anyway and his second son was incredibly protective of his big brother… of course that hadn’t been conducive to bringing up more difficult topics. Although Jeff knew he could have engineered the circumstances if he’d had the nerve. By the time Scott had recovered and they’d both thrown themselves into the Big Project, the moment seemed to have passed.

So they talked Tracy household admin, school admin. Most of all, they talked about the Project, Scott almost as excited as he was about that. His son admired and encouraged and gently challenged him in exactly the way his mother would have. It worked.

It was comfortable. And Jeff had been too much of a coward to make it uncomfortable.

He’d been home nearly two months and he’d nearly missed his chance again.

Not this time.

He raised his hand once more and let his knuckles fall against the door.

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“Scott?”

“Yes, EOS?” His reply was muffled somewhat by a mouthful of toothpaste.

“Your father has been stood outside your door for seven point five minutes.”

Some of the toothpaste migrated to his pyjama shirt. “What?! He should be in bed!”

“And yet he is currently located in the corridor. Just thought you’d like to know.”

“Is he ok?”

“His heart rate is a little elevated but his other vitals seem as healthy as they have proved in recent weeks.”

“I… ok, alright. Thanks for telling me.”

“Of course.”

Scott scrubbed pointlessly at the mark on his shirt and headed out of his en-suite towards the hallway door, where he paused and compulsively tidied his hair.

He reached for the door handle then jumped out of his skin as a loud knock sounded inches from his face.

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TBC when Jeff can work out how to start the conversation ;)

[teddy06writes]

Whumptober Day 11 - Boromir

Boromir x gn!reader

Prompt: Chronic Pain

Trigger Warnings: None

Summary: The first day of a cold spell causes your pain to flare up, but you're determined to grit your teeth through the pain. Boromir however, is determined to get you to rest. Set post Ring War, Boromir surviving, obviously.

{Reader's pain is based on my own joint pain issues}

You could tell before you had even finished getting ready that it wasn't going to be a great day.

The cool morning air filtered through the open windows into your quarters, along with the bright, early light. Beside you, your husbands place in bed was already growing cold.

With a small groan, you dragged yourself from bed, stiffness heavy in your limbs. The morning chill pooled in your skin, settling in an ache in your knees and hip.

You could hear your husband in the other room, puttering around, presumably making breakfast.

Stretching, and trying to work the stiffness out of your limbs, you began to get ready for the day. The dull ache in your legs seemed to drag you down, slowing your movements as you eventually headed out into the main room.

"Good morning, darling," Boromir greeted you with a kiss on the cheek as you passed, "You sleep well?"

You hummed, sitting down at the table, "Mhhhm. You were up early."

"Just restless, I suppose. All this cold, the preparations for the Harvest Festival..." He shrugged, smiling as he set two plates on the table, "It has been a long time since we could put our sights on simple pleasures like these."

You found his smile infectious, and you took his hand across the table, "I know. Good times are here again."

Boromir squeezed your hand before digging into his plate, "It's quite cold today, will you be alright?"

"I am a bit stiff," You admitted, not quite meeting his eye, "But, I should be fine. Just need to keep moving."

He raised an eyebrow, unconvinced, "You're sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

Your response was clipped enough for him to drop it, and to his credit, he did.

Throughout the day though, as you drifted in and out of meetings, and met again in the square to continue panning with Aragorn and Faramir, Boromir watched wearily as your movements grew stiffer and you worked harder to keep the pain off your face.

You could get away with fooling others into thinking that everything was fine, but not Boromir. He saw the slight clenching of your jaw every other step, the unevenness in your stride.

At least he had the sense to wait until the others were out of ear shot to ask, "Are you sure you'll be alright, darling?"

You couldn't help but let out a huff, "I'm fine."

Again, he raised a critical eyebrow, "Is that why you're limping around after Faramir?"

"I can't just ignore my duties, love. It's fine." You said it with such conviction that you almost believed it yourself. The truth was that every step felt like fire, and you knew that the busy day was only making it worse. Still, you had things that needed to be done, and projects to oversee.

You turned, hurrying after Faramir, ignoring your concerned husband, and the pain ficking up in your knee with every step.

Boromir only sighed, turning to return to work.

By the time you returned home, later that evening, you swore you couldn't take another step, lowering yourself painfully into an armchair.

Boromir, who had returned before you, quietly closed the book he'd been leafing through, hazarding, "Are you alright, my love?"

You bit the inside of your cheek, turning to look at him slowly, finally admitting, "I may have overdone it. By Eru, it feels like I've been walking on glass."

It sounded as if it had been painful even to say the words out loud, and your strained tone tugged at Boromir's heart. He stood, making his way to your side, "I know, darling, I know."

You looked up at him, "I'm sorry for the way I was acting, please forgive me."

"Already forgiven," He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your hair, "I drew you a hot bath, if a soak would help?"

You smiled gratefully, "Thank you, love. I don't know if I..."

You trailed off, glancing down at your legs, and then off toward the bathroom, the usually short trip seeming to stretch out before you.

Boromir chuckled, easily scooping you up into his arms, "Not a problem."

~~~

Enjoy this fic? Support me on kofi :)

[giveafike]

thigh riding with ben….. pleaseeeee 😂

TLDR: You miss Ben so much and you're needy. So when he comes back, you're straddling.

Word count + info: 2.1k! Dialogue, fem reader x B.T.S

Warnings + Content Ahead: NSFW - MINORS DNI! Thighriding, hickeys, kissing...that's it I think.

Azzie Notes ✚: Mhmmm you got it! Based off of the poll I did, here's the NSFW blurb u NASTY PEOPLE wanted (kidding, I am just as bad)

Thigh riding blurb is here! I have another draft ready to post, but I'll slow release 'em so I can finish off one story while a new one goes up. I take so long to write im srry : ( but! a few long stories are comin' along. By the time this goes up, I should have 1.5-2 more prompts ready to go?

Do we like longer stories as in like 3k+ word count? Or shorter ones? send me a DM or anon feedback pls I wanna know how I'm doing or if you wish I added things (like more description, more dialogue, more focus on story plot, less extra content) and stuff! Lmk!

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Come Here - B.T.S

It was early when Ben left for training, his morning routine blending quiet focus and unshakable determination. He’d stirred you awake by wrapping his strong arms around you, planting soft kisses on the back of your head, like he always does. Even half-asleep, you watched him from under the covers as he got dressed, catching glimpses of those defined muscles moving while the morning light danced across his skin, with shadows making him look like a model as he pulled on his tennis gear. He flashed you that heart-stopping grin, whispering a soft “Good mornin', see you later,” before leaning down to press a lingering kiss to your forehead.

Now, hours later, you sat slouched at your kitchen table, dumbfounded pretending to work at home but failing miserably. Ben has been your boyfriend for so long but here you were, squirmish like you just met him. You’d tried everything to distract you; trying to type up emails, playing soft music, making coffee, but nothing could pull your mind from the simmering heat that had taken hold of you since the morning. Your coffee had gone cold, your laptop had entered sleep mode, and all you could think about was Ben. Work wasn’t hard today; your focus was just... elsewhere.

Maybe it was the morning show or maybe it was shortly after that when he left out the door, when you were in bed, squinting at your phone while mindlessly scrolling Twitter. Someone had posted a picture of Ben fresh from a training session, his shirt clinging to his chest, damp curls swept back, legs muscular and defined. Then there was that TikTok edit, showcasing highlights of your man on the court. His veins popped with each power shot, his thick thighs moved like a stallion’s as he manoeuvred with ease, and the intense focus in his eyes, it all did something to you.

The heat rose to your cheeks again just thinking about it as you groaned, throwing your hands over your face. Normally, you’d smirk, knowing all that was yours, but now you were losing it like a fangirl. It was as if you’d been thrown back into the honeymoon phase, when every glance, every accidental brush of his skin would send electricity through your veins. You couldn’t stop imagining the way his thighs flexed beneath those stupid short shorts, the strength in his legs when he held you, and how his hands clenched whenever he secured a set.

You leaned back in your chair, now fanning your face. Nothing was helping the ache building inside of you as you clenched your thighs together. Your phone buzzed with another work notification, but the words blurred. All you could think about was Ben, how bad you wanted him here, how feral you'd be if you could have his solid chest under your hands, the way he whispered obscene things in your ear, and how he’d press you close, body warm and firm against yours.

God, you missed him.

It wasn’t even like he’d been gone for days, but the thought of him out there, sweating and training, only made the hours stretch longer. You were arguing with yourself, trying to get a grip. You resisted the urge to text or call him, knowing he needed to stay focused. If you asked him to come home for a “lunch break,” he would, and he wouldn’t be able to leave you afterwards. And you didn’t want to break his concentration with needy messages about how hot he looked or how badly you wanted him.

By the time 4:00 PM rolled around, all you could think about was him. You’d tried a cold shower to cool yourself down, but it only made your thoughts swirl more. In every room you entered, you could imagine Ben beside or behind you, his presence filling the space; "God if he was here...". Restless, you ended up on the sofa in one of his T-shirts and some shorts, bouncing your leg as you waited. Everything about him that you’d craved all day swirled in your mind. You put on some show on Netflix, and the noise keeps you company as you wait.

Finally, you heard the front door unlock, and before you knew it, you were perked up, staring at the door.

Ben stepped in, fresh from a shower, his face flushed from coming back, his hair still damp and tousled. His clean shirt clung to his broad chest, and his thick thighs filled out his joggers in a way that made your heart race.

“Hey, babe,” he greeted, his voice smooth and relaxed, his drawl slipping through as he set down his bag. That accent of his made your knees like jelly, especially today. His easy smile made you melt on the spot as his gaze landed on you, sitting on the couch but clearly eager. You tried to play it cool, but the way your body practically buzzed with anticipation sold you out.

“What’s goin’ on with you?” Ben laughed softly, resting his hands on his hips.

You bit your lip, fighting the giddy smile threatening to break free. “Nothing...” you muttered trying to be coy, glancing at him through your lashes. “Just missed you.”

Ben’s laugh was warm, amused. “Oh, I can tell,” he teased, moving toward you and sitting beside you on the sofa. His arm stretched across the back of the couch, casually but with enough presence to make your heart skip. “You’re lookin’ at me like I’ve been gone for weeks.”

Your face flushed. It had only been hours, but it felt like weeks with how desperate you were for him. “I couldn’t focus all day, Ben” you confessed, voice barely above a whisper. You leaned into him, inhaling the fresh scent of his shower, biting your lip “Kept thinking about you.”

His smirk widened as his eyes danced with amusement. “Yeah? What exactly were you thinkin’ ‘bout?”

Your gaze dropped to his body, tracing the outline of his strong thighs, his solid chest, his muscular arms resting lazily around you. You swallowed, heat rising in your cheeks as you met his eyes again, and the teasing glint in them made your stomach twist in anticipation.

“You’re somethin’ else,” he said, shaking his head with a grin. He knew exactly what you were getting at. “Come here, baby”.

The second the words left his mouth, you moved. Eagerly, you climbed onto his lap, straddling him without hesitation. His hands gripped your hips, firm but gentle, guiding you closer as you settled on top of him, your heart pounding against your chest.

“There we go, feel better, babe?” Ben murmured, his voice low and teasing, eyes gleaming with tenderness. He leaned back, relaxing into the cushions as his hands slid up your sides, pulling you flush against him.

Your pulse raced, all the tension you’d carried throughout the day melting away in the warmth of his embrace. His thigh was solid beneath you, grounding you, and when his lips brushed yours in a soft, teasing kiss, you felt like you could finally breathe again.

“You missed me this bad, huh?” he teased, voice rough with amusement as his lips hovered just over yours.

“More than you know,” you breathed, kissing him again, deeper this time, your fingers threading through his damp hair as his grip on your hips tightened and you let out a moan.

Ben chuckled against your lips, the sound vibrating through your body. “Damn, maybe I should go to practice more often if this is how I’m welcomed home,” he teased, kissing you slowly, savouring the moment.

You laughed softly against his mouth, pulling back just enough to look at him. “God, please don’t,” you whispered, pressing your forehead to his. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you. You have been driving me crazy.”

He smiled, his hands squeezing your hips as his eyes darkened with affection and desire. “How ‘bout you show me how much you missed me, then?”. He was tugging on his sweatpants with that voice where it dropped to that low, intimate tone that always made your stomach flutter. You pulled his sweatpants down which he kicked off before he slipped his hands through the waistband of your pj shorts, yanking those down, leaving you in your panties. You set yourself back down on him, your hips bucked, your needy motions getting Ben aroused. He smirked as he watched you roll against him.

Your fingers trailed over his chest before gripping the hem of his shirt. With a swift motion, you pulled it over his head, revealing his built torso. Your hands explored his skin, tracing every curve and contour with your nails. He shuddered under your touch, his breathing growing heavier. The sight of him aroused as you worked yourself to an orgasm was heavenly. His boxers grew tighter, his breathing more laboured and all you were doing was grinding on his lap.

Leaning forward, you pressed your lips to his neck, leaving a trail of hot kisses and hickeys along his jawline. You suckled and gnawed, trailing your teeth over him, making Ben throw his head back in a groan. His hands found your hips, gripping tightly as he guided your movements down hard against him. The friction was intoxicating, sending waves of pleasure through your body. You both found a rhythm as Ben moved up into you, bucking his leg up and moving it in a delicious, teasing way.

You felt his fingers slip under the fabric of your shirt, caressing the small of your back. The heat of his touch ignited your skin, leaving you craving more. With a soft moan, you captured his lips in a passionate kiss, tongues dancing as the intensity between you built to a fever pitch. Ben's hands glided up your back as he ran a tongue on your bottom lip, pushing forward into your mouth. He breaks the kiss to pull his t-shirt off of you, and the cool air hits your skin, causing goosebumps to rise. His eyes raked over your exposed flesh, a low growl escaping his throat.

"God, you're so beautiful," he murmured, voice husky with desire.

You felt a blush creep across your cheeks at his words. Even after all this time, he still had the power to make you feel like the only woman in the world. His lips found yours again, more urgent, more hungry this time. You melted into the kiss, letting yourself get lost in the sensation. Your hands roamed his body, fingernails lightly scraping down the back of his shoulders. Ben shivered in response, breaking the kiss to trail his mouth down your neck. You could feel your climax coming, the feeling of him roaming you all over sending you into overdrive.

“That’s it, keep goin’ baby, cum on me” he murmured against your skin, planting wet kisses. Ben lavished attention on your collarbone, alternating between gentle kisses and playful nips as his hands played with your breasts. As your hips moved with a mind of their own, Ben held you tightly, his hands steadying you as you rode out the waves of pleasure, watching you throw your head back and let waves of moans leave your mouth.

His eyes never left your face as he smiled watching you come down from your high. You rest your head in the crook of his neck, your heart pounding and your breathing laboured. You could feel your core twitch and thrum against him, ready for more as you left a pool on his leg. You hear Ben chuckle and rub your back softly.

“What a pretty mess you've made,” he said, his voice soft and warm, “guess it’s a good thing we’ve got the whole evenin’ together”.

You couldn’t help but smile, your heart racing as you looked up at him, pressing his lips to yours once more. The kiss deepened, slow but intense, the kind that made you feel like everything outside this moment had disappeared. His hands slid up to cup your face, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek as the tension you’d felt all day finally unravelled. You melted into him, letting yourself get lost in the warmth of his embrace.

The TV in the background played a forgotten Netflix show, but neither of you cared. All you wanted was right here, him, his arms around you, and the undeniable pull between you that made it feel like nothing else mattered.

[bradchenford]

Jealousy, Jealousy

“Tim’s jealous side shows when Lucy gets asked on a date by another officer”

Post Season 6 / Pre season 7

Mid-Wilshire police station had seen a reduction in staff for the past few months. Sickness, injury, stress. All the usual denominators that affect an already overworked division. It was exhausting for the remainder of the staff, but their usual determination had prevailed so far. After all, Smitty was still at his desk, and that tugged at Lucy’s competitive side. No matter how exhausted she was.

However, during roll call there were some faces that Lucy didn’t recognise. She felt as though it was odd, as if her usual comfortable space had been invaded by trespassers, but that feeling was pushed to one side as soon as Grey walked in the room for his usual morning speech.

“All right, settle down” the chattering subsided as Grey’s authority hushed the room. “I hope you’ve all noticed that there are some new faces in the room today. If you haven’t, then you should consider a carer change” A couple of chuckles escaped the mouths of the seated officers, but not enough to interrupt him.

Lucy plucked up the courage to take another look around the room. To her surprise, she was met with a pair of eyes staring right back at her. They were a light green on the outside, but they had a dark centre. She gave a quick and awkward smile, before focusing back on Grey. She knew if she was caught not paying attention, he would make it known to the entire room.

The occupant of the eyes continued to stare with Lucy being none the wiser, but Tim was watching the exchange from the front of the room. He knew what type of man officer Booth was, and it was not the type that he wanted near Lucy. In fact it was not the type of man he wanted on the force, but that was not his decision. Especially since Booth was technically under the Hollywood devision.

Grey had finished roll call and just like Tim suspected Booth made a couple of strides towards Lucy, who was speaking to Lopez about her next under cover task. It was linked to one of Lopez’s ongoing cases, and Harper had taken a rare day off to spend with Leah. Tim felt his fists clench and Booth presented a smile that looked foreign on his face.

“Chen right? Next in line to be the top UC?” Booth placed himself between Angela and Lucy. Tim had envisioned a million different scenarios in which Booth failed miserably. A sudden Bee sting in which his face swelled up and he passed out. Or maybe Lucy would punch him in the face, but Tim knew that she was too nice for that.

By the time Tim’s thoughts got round to possible attempted murder, Lopez was stood in front of him with an all too familiar face. The face of ‘I know what you’re thinking, and I am about to tell you that.’

“My Abuela might have a curse we could use, certain things may fall off” Angela was also aware of officer Booths discretions, but despite this Tim new she would have his back even if Booth was the re-incarnation of Jesus. “I was thinking of something more practical… or physical” Tim grunted in dismay as Booth’s hand found its way to Chen’s shoulder.

“Unfortunately you lost that privilege when you were feeling sad for yourself and broke up with her” Tim was starting to regret this conversation, and it was not helping the anger that was bubbling up inside of him. Angela tugged him out of the room. “We’re riding together today- but- don’t argue with me Bradford”.

Tim didn’t argue

…

Lucy felt on edge after her conversation with officer Booth. She couldn’t figure out if it was because the words coming out of his mouth felt rehearsed and repeated like re-runs of a cringy TV show. Or if it was because of the light touches on her shoulder and her lower back which felt too personal for a first conversation.

Lucy was in the shop getting ready for the day. There was hope in her heart that the shift would be easier with the extra staffing, but she knew better than to get comfortable. As she was about to set off she watched Lopez and Tim walk towards the shop, Tim having the war bags in hand. There was no one else other than Angela that he would carry them for. Chen chuckled to herself, but was hit with a wave of sadness.

Her foot lifted gently of the clutch of the vehicle and she had left the lot before Tim could catch her staring. Lucy wished that she could look at Bradford without emotions clawing at her insides, but even though she has meditated and worked through her feelings over and over again. She still felt that emotional pull towards him that was undeniable.

She also couldn’t deny that she missed his touch, and his warmth beside her.

“Control to 7-Adam-15, 7-Adam-19 and 7-Adam-16 there are reports of multiple person fight at a property on 2210 Rosemont”

“7-Adam-15 to control, show me responding”

…

The scene was loud as Tim and Angela pulled up. Two patrol cars were already present, but the occupants were no longer inside. They both rushed in to the room which had about 10 people not including Lucy and Booth. The room was split into two sides and minor first aid was being administered. The tension in the room was thick, but not just between the opposing family members.

“Chen, you okay?” Lucy nodded towards Tim signalling that she wasn’t hurt. Although they were not on speaking terms, Tim still felt responsible for Lucy, especially since he was previously her TO. Or that was what he told himself to keep his head straight.

“You not going to ask me Bradford? Or do you just check on the cute female officers” The room fell silent. Or at least it did for Tim. The rage he felt earlier rose and burned behind his ears, and he couldn’t stop himself from swirling on his feet and pacing towards Booth.

Before Tim could cause any physical injury Lopez was in his Path. “You, outside and cool off” Tim felt his anger subside enough for him to take a look around the room. All eyes were on him, but the only ones he focused on were Lucy’s. Her eyes portrayed a look of shock that Tim hadn’t seen in a while. There wasn’t a lot that took Lucy by surprise, but Tim understood that his lack of control over his emotions wasn’t a part of his usual stoical character.

Tim was waiting outside of the property when Lopez, Chen and Booth left. “No one is wanting to press charges, no one is telling us who threw punches” Time to go. Lopez grabbed Tim by the shoulder and tried to move him a long.

“Do we have an issue Bradford” Tim heard Lopez groan from beside him, but he had already heard enough from officer Booth today. “We will have a problem Booth, if you keep up the inappropriate conduct at work. I will put a complaint into your watch commander” Booth laughed, but it was a laugh out of anger. Tim had already looked him up on the system, and the complaints from female officers were already pileing up. It would definitely have an impact on his career, especially since he was already under the big eye.

“Cut the high and mighty sergeant crap Bradford, tell me what you really want to say” Booth was now practically face to face with Tim, despite his stature being significantly smaller. Tim looked down at him with a look of pure disgust on his face. “You’re sleazy Booth, you treat women like shit. Chen is here to do a job, and a job that she is good at. She doesn’t need your gross comments”

“You sure it’s not just because you want a piece of that fine ass…” Tim’s hands were on Booth’s shirt before he even knew it. Booth tried to punch Tim in retaliation but wasn’t able to build up a good enough swing with Tim’s arms in the way.

“Tim stop!” Lucy’s voice broke Tim out of his trance which gave Booth a chance to push him off. Booth stormed off mumbling some insults to Bradford. “What is wrong with you” Lucy hit Tim in the chest, but not hard enough to cause pain. His mouth moved to say something but the words didn’t come out. “You just had so much to say to him, and nothing to me?”

“I don’t need you to fight my battles for me” Lucy saw that people were coming to their windows to watch the argument and she walked away as she felt the tears prick at her eyes. She was frustrated by the mix of hurt and confusion. Tim had said all those things about her being great at the job, but yet didn’t feel confident that she could deal with some creep.

Lucy didn’t spend time sat in the shop, she buckled up and drove away so she could process this far away from Tim’s watching eye. She didn’t understand him, why he broke up with her or why he was acting like he was. She also knew she was unlikely to get an answer from him.

….

It was the end of shift and it was a miracle for Tim that Booth didn’t put in a complaint. Angela had given him an earful in the shop as well as a look of sympathy that he didn’t want. He didn’t deserve sympathy, not when he had ignored Lucy’s feeling all day because of his own anger…or as Angela had put it ‘jealousy’.

Jealousy wasn’t an emotion Tim felt, or he didn’t think he did. It was not an experience he had been through before. Or so he told himself. He had at least not felt it so deeply. He was arguing with himself in his head about if he felt jealous of Booth, and his actions towards Lucy. It just felt impossible to him that he could feel like jealous of some sleezeball, or that he thought Lucy would even entertain it. Before he even realised the answer he was in his truck heading towards her flat, and then at her door.

Tim had paused at Lucy’s door. He had been here a million times before, but he was hesitating this time. Before Tim could even knock the door swung open and Lucy stood before him. Her green dress caressed her body elegantly, and her her was pinned behind her ear.

“Tim?” Again, Tim found himself lost for words. He was at her apartment but he didn’t quite know why. “Where are you going?” He instantly knew that it was the wrong thing to say, even before Lucy’s face showed evidence of dismay. “Not that it is any of your business but I am going out to meet Tamara”. Tim held his head in shame and chose his next words more carefully.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to quiz you that’s not why I am here. I also know it’s not my place.” Tim waited to see if there was a reaction from Lucy but her facial expression and her body language remained unchanged.

“I’m also sorry for my actions earlier today. I don’t know what was going through my head, I just knew what kind of guy Booth was and I hated that he was speaking to you. Especially in the manner he was” Tim struggled to to get the words out in the correct order with Lucy’s hard stare.

“So you were jealous?”

“Why do people keep saying that? I was not… it sounds like you were” Tim sighed. He didn’t want to admit to Lucy that he had been taken over by something as petty as jealousy. “Okay maybe I was a little jealous, and I know again that it isn’t my place to be”

“You’re right it’s not” Lucy seemed less tense with Tim, even offering a small smile. She moved forward so she was able to turn and lock her door. When she turned back around Tim was much closer. They both leaned in slowly until their lips met, and Tim’s hand went to her cheek.

It was a short lived, but sweet kiss between the two before Lucy pulled away. “Tim, this is not the right time, especially if it was born out of jealousy. You still have a lot to work through”

Tim didn’t say anything in response but nodded. He hadn’t intended for the kiss to happen, but it was difficult not to when it was all he wanted to do. Lucy said a polite goodbye before leaving Tim in the hall on his own, and for some reason he knew that it was going to be okay between them eventually.

[mopeyy]

Kia ora,

Huge Eetu fan, I'm sad there's not more content out there.

Long after I finished the quest I can't help but check back in and worry post Zomey's passing.

Could I request maybe letting him fly on the back of your ikran sometime, because he misses the sky?

Devastated you can't let him do this in the game 😭

Grieving Skies

Avatar frontiers of pandora

Eetu x Na'vi! Reader

I love this request!! I hope you like it😊

Beneath the shadow of the Hallelujah Mountains, you stood beside Eetu, whose eyes once sparkled with life, now dimmed by the feeling of grief. His silence after Zomey's passing hasn't gone unnoticed. You often found him staring at the sky, his eyes full of longing. Prior to her passing he would tell you stories of how they soared through the skies together. Over time it became clear that flying was not just a pastime for Eetu, but a cherished ritual that bound his soul to Zomey's. It was their shared passion, a symbol of their unbreakable bond.

As you stood beside him now all you could see was a shell of the man you knew. "Eetu," You whispered, placing a hand on his shoulder, your voice barely a ripple in the wind. "The skies still sing of you and Zomey, you should not have to give up flying." He shook his head, "I could never bond with another ikran, it...it would not be the same." He shut his eyes tight at the memory of his ikran.

"I know, that is why I am asking you to fly with me. You can ride again."

He opened his eyes and turned to face you, question written all over his face.

"You would really do that?"

You nodded, "Of course I would, I cannot see you like this anymore. I want you to do what you love Eetu."

His ears flickered, listening to your words. You could see the conflict within him, the yearning to take to the skies wrestling with the sorrow of his heart.

You stepped closer, your own heart heavy with empathy. "Eetu, the bond you shared with Zomey was unique, irreplaceable. But she wouldn't have wanted you to be grounded by grief. Let her spirit lift you up once more, through the clouds and over these mountains." Your words hung in the air, a gentle plea for his healing.

He let a smile pass onto his face, " Your right, I do miss the sky. It makes me feel closer to her. I will fly with you." His voice, though still tinged with sadness, carried a newfound determination.

---------------

The next day, you prepared your ikran for the journey. Eetu approached, his steps hesitant but resolute. "I am ready," he declared, his voice steadier than it had been in months. Together, you climbed onto the ikran, hearts pounding in unison with the beat of her powerful wings.

Your ikran took off and launched you into the sky. The view was beautiful, you felt as though you could see all of pandora beneath you. You felt Eetu smile behind you, his laughter lost in the wind.

You smiled too, happy to see him this way, the smile on his face from doing what he loved, and the light you thought he had lost was shining in his eyes.

The flight continued, each beat of the ikran's wings taking you deeper into pandora. By the time you landed, something had shifted within him. "Thank you," he said, his voice filled with gratitude. "Today, I flew with Zomey's spirit beside me, and I felt her joy. I will fly again, not just for her, but for myself."

He pulled you into a hug, a gesture that conveyed more than words ever could. In that hug, there was an understanding that while the pain of loss might never fully disappear, the skies would always be there to offer solace and a connection to what was cherished and lost.

[erisweekofficial]

Today we're celebrating @invisibleanonymousmonsters, the incredible author of Gust & Flame, a post ACOSF Eris x Reader fic!

If you love fics where only one person knows they are mates, OR love fics with fae-human relatonships OR want something longer to dig into this is going to be SUCH a treat. 🧡

Please check out the fic masterlist here. It's truly such a fun fic to read - please don't miss out on it.

Read on if you want to hear more about @invisibleanonymousmonsters's thoughts about Eris and what game they'd totally beat Eris at.

What drew you to Eris Vanserra as a character?

When writing fanfiction, I always gravitate towards side characters that are not given a lot of backstory or plot in the canon material. There is so much mystery around Eris. Even after five books, we still know so little about him. Is he truly an asshole? Or is he more like Rhysand than we want to admit? Is he a villain or is he actually a victim?  For me, it’s not fun to write fanfiction for characters that the source material has already fully fleshed out. There is no puzzle for me to figure out or an unfinished canvas to finish. For ACOTAR as a whole series – and an unfinished one, at that – Eris was one of the few male characters that had enough space for me to try to figure him out. And despite knowing so little about him, it’s still clear that he’s an extremely complex character with so many layers. And that’s an exciting type of character for me to write for. 

How do you think Eris handles power and responsibility?

0I have always viewed him as someone who sees what power without responsibility looks like: Beron, his father and High Lord. From the series, we have seen him hold responsibility for the army he commands of Autumn Court. And with that he risked his life to save just a handful of them. But we really have not seen the full extent of his power, so I am not sure I can confidently determine how he handles – or would handle – power. 

Can you give me a name for one of Eris's brothers? And also for one of his dogs?

In my series gust & flame, I named one of his brother’s Aurelius. Honestly, coming up with all his brothers’ names and keeping them straight in my mind has been one of the hardest parts of writing my series.  And I would name one of his dogs Orla.  Honestly, my brain is so fried from my stupid job and I’ve been writing my series so long that I’m pretty sure I named some of his dogs and now I can’t even remember what their names were. (Proof that I am a fanfiction writer, and there’s a reason I am not paid to do it.) 

What game do you think you could beat Eris at?

What an interesting question… Honestly, I don’t play any games. 😂Like, not a single board game or video game. I could probably beat him at a game of soccer. But I would definitely own his ass at Catch Phrase or Heads Up or Cards Against Humanity. 

[tiredassmage]

veilguard thoughts!

rook + solas parallels edition

spoilery ofc because my head's not full of cotton balls today and i haven't stopped chewing on it all since i finished the game! so! this is a little endgame heavy; you've been warned for what's below the cut <3

the final first playthrough counter has come in just over 67 hours and i am all but physically holding myself back from launching right into another one with another rook because i had a blast. i'll concede it was a bit heavy on the exposition in the first several hours, but what followed has certainly won my heart, and i think the game is visually beautiful.

but i'm not even looking to do a full review here, but i think one of the most fascinating things this game did was set up rook and solas. so, two parts of preface then: one, i was a little determined to love this game and hoped it would at least perform decent. that's my spite about it, lol, but that's not the point, so we're not here about that. two, one of my admitted concerns when they had first announced this game having its own protagonist was... that i wasn't sure there was another person to finish solas's story other than the inquisitor, and this isn't a solavellan thing for me, though my beloved canon inquisitor is a lavellan. solas's friendship wasn't the biggest hitch in inquisition for me, but it was important to my inquisitor. he wanted to prove his friend wrong.

i don't believe hallaren had a plan at the time for how to achieve that. he wasn't sure it was actually possible to convince solas the dalish were not as lost a cause as he seemed to believe, but he had to try.

and when i started veilguard, i wouldn't say i'd have anticipated the parallels of solas and rook, nor how well they ended up working for me. i admit: they got me. i didn't see that twist coming. and the hindsight of losing varric from the beginning makes a lot hurt (i say that as a compliment). i think it's easy enough to explain why i didn't see it, why (my, at least) rook didn't puzzle it out, but i also readily admit i'm historically bad at seeing these kinds of things, so you're free to be amused on your own time, lol.

anyway. regret. not becoming what you hate, what you claim to fight against. not being beholden to what you were or what you've lost. the game hits these beats several times, and i think its a real beautiful repeating thing they've done if you hammer all the companion's stories with the main deal, and i did the memories of the dread wolf as well. rook and the inquisitor have a conversation about it that about touches on all of it way more eloquently than i could summarize.

and, of course, part of the reveal is solas did dabble with blood magic on the matter of varric's death, did set rook up for the level of regret and grief they must settle with to trap them in the fade - a prison fit for gods, a prison fit for a god's regrets.

and this is where i transition into blorbo-specific thoughts. because i think part of what fascinates and delights me so much about the rook and solas, potentially two sides of the same coin deal is how tyr's relationship with solas starts and then develops.

tyr does not trust solas from the outset. which i think is where a very interesting presentation of similar (at their roots) choices begins, as varric says: in a bar, as all good stories. one of the first story notifications we get is how rook chooses to handle the bar owner: charm your way out, or a more direct approach, and we're told varric takes note of this.

varric's own plan is an appeal to solas's nature. to talk his way out. as is varric's way.

normally, i'd call tyr the kind of character (having played with him as an oc in various medias for oh... going on 2 years, is it? maybe 3? time's fake, different post) to also prefer talking his way out. but he doesn't believe solas will listen. so he rebukes varric's plan of just waltzing up and charming him with his babygirl eyes.

then at d'meta's crossing, he spares the mayor. not because he doesn't hear the concern that the greedy bastard will fall to said greed again, and not out of an entirely conscious mandate for live with the consequences of your actions, but... in hindsight with other choices, i'd argue it's... from at least a little of that kind of place.

he tries and fails to reason with the first warden. several times. in the heat of weisshaupt, and with the recent conversation with solas about whatever it takes on his mind, he ends up decking the man. the stakes are too high for risking the first warden staying on his high horse again if another attempt at reason fails, is the driver of the decision.

i'd chewed for a while on how that would seem to make tyr's commitment to "talking things through" indicated by that first choice in the bar inconsistent. it all seems justifiable at the time, and he didn't get to the place with the first warden he was out of intentional malice, but he still wound up there.

much of that is natural by the circumstances he was presented. by making calls with the information and under the conditions that were present at the time, as anyone, not just rook, would have to do under such circumstances, if they traded places. sure, some of it is also by solas's engineering of his conversations with rook. by setting them up to be a leader asked to make those hard calls. maybe even for arguably goading them a bit into a situation where whatever it takes was their only feasible option. which neve has a great comment on:

this is, i think, most directly about varric's death, but also, personally, i have to say is applicable for solas's intervention during blood of arlathan.

so, back to blorbo for a moment. tyr begins from a place that mistrusts solas's motives. the I'm quoting you here, "lies, treachery, and rebellion" kind of mistrust. and then, as things progress, as the team unveils more about solas's past in the crossroads and through the murals, it circles back to what I think motivated much of his comment to varric that talking with solas wouldn't work: that even if solas has any regret for what's happened, he's too stubborn to concede, too trapped by the mistakes of that past to ever admit fault, to hear himself sound like the 'gods' he claims to despise. tyr continues to take solas's advice into consideration the whole time, true, because it's... hard to discount the only potentially close to the problem kind of advice and knowledge they don't... exactly otherwise have themselves. he's not sure what the other shoe dropping in that equation is going to look like, but he's more convinced it'll happen than he is entirely happy with the situation.

the murals create... a hunch. or develop it. that rather than just being too prideful about the harm he'll cause by tearing down the veil, that solas is trapped in this plan by his regrets and guilt for actions of the past. at that point, tyr... has a better understanding about how they got to this point, but it kind of only solidifies his reservations that solas might actually be reasoned with.

the one moment this is changed, then, is during blood of arlathan. because frankly i think that was one of the worst experiences tyr has in the entire game. elgar'nan's influence in their minds, and an incident where they're trapped with no conceivable way out and potentially facing down an archdemon again, not so long after weisshaupt that the losses have stopped aching.

whatever his reasons or motivations and whatever else happens, solas saves their lives. tyr can't find a way around that one, and he's not even certain he wants to. because it's one of the definitive moments where he didn't have a plan, and he was terrified the tables had finally turned against them, and they'd fail.

it's not... trust. but tyr's also spent all this time working with his team on this concept that change shouldn't exactly be beyond anyone if there's a little effort put in. and whatever his own feelings are, varric wanted to believe in his old friend, and so does the inquisitor - both people he respects greatly, and he's constantly calculating their desire for a better outcome into the rubix cube that is trying to figure out how to stop the gods.

the problem then, is that solas all but instantly takes advantage of this... lapse. this faint relaxation of tyr's guard against his manipulations. that whole little incident with the fade after ghilan'nain's fall is all but immediately after, and its a betrayal nearly thrice or so over in rapid succession: that varric's been dead this whole time, that solas has manipulated him and how he feels responsibility for the team and the regrets that arise out of having to make hard choices, especially in times like these, and then on the other side of the fade, that solas has gone to minrathous, solas is playing "hero" about it all in tyr's and the shadow dragons' backyard. and to add salt to the wound, in minrathous, it's been blood magic all along.

and, y'know. solas says sorry, says he won't tear down the veil by his own hand, but hands rook the weapon to do it for him. sets them up again. so maybe that's more like... four or five times, depending on your count and categorization of it all.

and rook has a choice about all of this to make, a certain level of peace they have to make with it all to even get out of the fade. and how much to follow varric's advice about don't become what you hate - what you were fighting all along, or trapped by what you lost.

here's tyr's opinion that solas has more than likely been beyond reason because he's too far gone on his own path to even see that he's done exactly that: that he talks like elgar'nan's control, he's just dressing it up in a different way. that he's trapped by what he's lost and sacrificed and admitting that will be too much.

and here's tyr's inescapable bitterness of having been betrayed, of having spent so long trying to be careful with the god of trickery only to have danced right to his tune the whole time. a fiery emotional response for a threat to his home, to minrathous that he's tried very hard to protect and leave a smidgen better than he found it in this whole fight.

by circumstance... and by a little of solas's own design then, rook and solas confront the same trouble of what sacrifice being a leader demands. what cost is too high? how much is too much?

i had the pieces at that point for the ending with mythal, but now i had tyr bitter and a bit more resentful about solas - in a kind of pain about betrayal that was still asking why? about it rather than worried about if regret was present or meaningful. which is where this came from in my head akdfnas;dfnsadf

you're both thinking it. and the endings directly focus on whether or not solas succeeds in tearing down the veil, but the thematic part of it, to me, was... do rook and solas recognize where they might be held back? does tyr act on the pain and resentment of betrayal and swing blindly at solas as repayment? or is it bigger than both of them? is it about posing the question to solas about regret? how much is it like what drove solas to this point to act on that resentment? is it just retaliation? or did either of them learn anything from that prison in the fade?

and that's what makes the parallel, and it's what sets them apart.

and that's how, still, in the end, i have tyr who is willing to choose trying to reason one last time. for the sake of the advice of an old friend. for the people that brought them this far, the ones who chose to believe against the odds. and maybe, even, a little bit for himself. a choice against letting regret and resentment rule.

for the sake of it and because i couldn't get this game out of my head, i checked out the other endings, just to see, and i... think i like sticking with convincing him the best for both of them.

the trick with the dagger swap i think is the only other fitting course of action tyr might've taken from that point, and i think some of its elements reflect similar beats here about... learning from the past, if you will.

the accusation of likeness to the gods is still there. the banter about wits. i am a fool who finally met his match. one might argue that's for underestimating rook, which... fair enough, but i think... it also falls in line with solas's regrets, the appeal to be made to his nature, the... want, in the end, to be proven wrong. to find a 'better' way, as once he suggested to the inquisitor, and as mythal's release from debt and rook and the inquisitor's forgiveness, if you will, finally allows.

and that is... very satisfying to have said between them, when it's been on tyr's mind the whole time. and... they can both be proven wrong this way: for tyr, that solas wasn't beyond listening, and for solas, that there was another way.

for both of them that they could move on from what these trials have made of them, what they have done, and what they endured.

and man... man that was good. and so, so satisfying. it worked, veilguard. you sold me on these two as parallels to each other.

and that's just... one of many things in this game that gave me a lot of emotions, but this has already been. a helluva ramble, so if you've made it this far, congratulations and i salute you, lol.

i'm sure i'll do it all over again and have even more thoughts about even more rooks to throw around and chew on with this and what it'll reflect about each of them and that's. MMM. that's delicious. i loved this game. if my brain and time cooperates, i'm sure i'll have more thoughts and maybe even some writings for it in the future, we'll see where the blorbos take me. xD

[vixstarria]

Kinktober Day 9 - Spanking

For every day of the month of October I will be posting a little snippet following prompts listed in this post. Most of these will not be full fics, but rather short snippets, set-ups, and, in a few cases, copied bits and pieces of fics I have already published. But, if there is a lot of interest and feedback on any of the snippets, they might just evolve into full fics, so keep that in mind.

Disclaimer: I've posted this before, it is a snippet from my Tav x Astarion x Halsin fic Sweat

The three lounged on a sofa in the house they had claimed for themselves. At one end, Halsin was busy with some ledgers that had been dumped on him - gods only knew why, he didn’t have a head for this kind of work. At the other, Astarion was likewise quietly busy with some novel, biding his time until the last rays of the sun hid. He would be out the door for a hunt the moment it was safe for him. Asmodea sprawled between them, her head on Astarion’s lap, her legs thrown over one of Halsin’s thighs.

Gods, but she was bored.

She regarded Halsin and the open misery written on his face as he tried to reconcile… What was it? Purchase orders of masonry and tools, against what had actually been recorded as delivered, against what had been charged.

Her bare foot slid between Halsin’s legs and pressed into his crotch, through his breeches.

“Could it be one of the missing hammers is here..?”

“Not now, my heart,” was his response.

She continued to lightly rub her foot against the bulge.

“Or is this one of the pillars..?”

“I must finish this before tomorrow,” he said, though he did not shift away from her, and had indeed begun to harden beneath her prodding.

“My, it’s erecting all by itself, why have we bothered to order any supplies at all when we have such marvels at hand?”

“You are truly testing my patience today,” he said in a low growl.

The ledger went flying across the room as she kicked it out of Halsin’s hands. The druid’s nostrils flared and he gave her a smouldering look.

“I warned you.”

She squealed as she found herself suddenly yanked by her leg down the sofa, off Astarion’s lap.

“Astarion!!” she laughed, reaching for him.

“No, no darling, you poked the bear and brought this upon yourself,” he said, unaffected, turning a page. “Now you must face the consequences.”

Halsin pulled her onto his own lap, flipping her onto her stomach, holding her down firmly with one hand, and pulling her pants down with the other.

“You brute! Just what do you think you’re doing?!” she cried out, trying not to laugh.

Halsin, though a generous, attentive and passionate lover, was not ordinarily one for such games, and getting him into a state of mind for one was a rare treat.

A loud sound resonated through the room, as a smack landed on one of her ass cheeks.

“I am teaching you a lesson.”

It could have been much harder, the druid was holding back, as per usual.

“How dare you?! Release me at once, you savage,” she cried, her voice faltering on the last word, as Halsin delivered another smack.

Astarion shifted where he lounged, now watching them through lidded eyes.

“It’s no use, you know - you’re just throwing more oil on the flames.”

Asmodea gasped as Halsin’s hand slid between her legs, stroking her.

“You’re right. Should I cease?”

She struggled and kicked but remained securely restrained by the druid, his digits now slipping inside her rapidly moistening hole.

“Absolutely not. You must remain steadfast and determined. Perhaps double down on your efforts until you see a result.”

The hand between her legs left and delivered a series of blows on her rear, the slaps now having a sting to them. Asmodea moaned between each one.

She looked at Astarion with her best round-eyed pleading face. His own book had been discarded as well.

“Star? My love? My sweet? Are you just - ah! - going to let him do this to me?!”

“There there, my love… I’ll kiss it better once he’s done with you.”

My Kinktober masterlist and prompts post