#also playing around with gender stuff with it because i feel like if you change the gender of the speaker or the lover

[guillemelgat]

I'm sharing this song by Tarta Relena which is an adaptation of Pashtun women's improvised poetry published in the book Songs of Love and War, compiled by Afghan poet Sayd Bahodine Majruh and translated into Catalan as El suïcidi i el cant by Margarida Castells Criballès. Tarta Relena are a band of two young women who adapt lots of interesting texts and pieces of music from all sorts of eras and places into stripped-down electronic and vocal works with incredible harmonies and sonorities. I think this song has a lot of really interesting things going on, and the lyrics are very intense but very beautiful.

M’arrenquin amb un ganivet totes les pigues Let them tear out all of my freckles with a knife si nego que et desitjo, si amagues que m’estimes. If I deny that I love you, if you hide that you love me

Benamat, vine a la vora i seu amb mi una estona, Beloved, come to my side and sit with me a while que la vida aviat serà tal com l’hivern que s’escola. Because life will soon be like the winter that trickles away

L’espai entre nosaltres que ens separa l’un de l’altra The space between us that separates the one of us from the other em nega com l’onada quan s’empassa les barques. Drowns me like the wave when it swallows ships

Ai, agafa’m, ai, abraça’m, ai, tingue’m a la vora, Oh, take me, oh, embrace me, oh, have me by your side que aquesta pena meva se m’emporta i deixa sola. This pain of mine is taking me over and leaving me alone

La meva boca és teva, pots devorar-la sens por, My mouth is yours, you can devour it without fear però deixa’m la llengua lliure per anar-te parlant d’amor. But leave my tongue free to keep speaking to you of love

El jardí del món creares, oh déu meu, i no és pecat You created the garden of the world, oh god, and it’s not a sin que n’hagi pres la flor que a mi més m’ha agradat. That I’ve picked the flower which I like best

Amor meu, jura una cosa, jura que vindràs amb mi, My love, swear me something, swear that you’ll come with me que pugui jo sembrar-te totes les flors del camí. So that I can sow all the flowers on your path

Quan passo prop de la tomba d’un sant When I pass close to the tomb of a saint li tiro pedres pels desitjos que em va negant. I throw stones at them for the desires they deny me

I si era veritat que tu no em sabies estimar, And if it was true that you didn’t know how to love me digue’m per què despertes el meu cor endormiscat? Tell me why you awake my sleeping heart?

Ves-te’n lluny, amic meu, bon viatge i bon vent, Get yourself far from me, my friend, goodbye and good riddance dels amants n’eres un més, i ara me’n trobaré cent! As a lover, you’re just one more, and now I’ll find myself a hundred

M’he repintat les pigues i avui nit em crema el ventre. I’ve repainted my freckles and tonight my insides are burning Si ara em veiessis, perdries la raó per sempre. If you saw me now, you’d lose your mind forever

Demà els que tinguin gana deixaré ben satisfets Tomorrow anyone who wants it I’ll leave well satisfied travessaré la vil·la amb els cabells al vent. I’ll cross the village with my hair blowing in the wind

[sqgeism]

How would our favorite amphoreus men take care of reader after they got caught in the rain and got sick? maybe they have a fever, chills, blocked nose. i need some fluff in life

hope ur having a good day and love your works :)))0

𐙚 𓏵𓏵𓏵 𐙚 ooh, be my baby | various hsr men x gender neutral reader

💌 — ; i'll look after you . working on a rainy day had expected consequences. lucky you, your boyfriend loves you too much to scold you for the time being. well.. depends on who you choose.. ! (anaxa, mydei, phainon, dan heng, boothill, jing yuan)

love mail — hii anonnie tysm! i'm doing great!! thank u thats so sweet (´ﾟЗﾟ｀)♡ i brought back some ogs :3 ! and boothill cause i like him so don't jump me, sorry geppie i swear i love you ！Σ(￣□￣;) these r semishort n stuff cause these r a lot but i hope it does well :D

anaxa makes a cure for you in hours.

he hides it as just 'making advances in his medical knowledge' but he was genuinely worried. he had a busy week at the academy, and he didn't want to leave you alone with no way to be cared for. he wants to be there, but he couldn't call off of work a week before the students exams week, needing to post reviewers and host review classes.

so the weekend you got sick, he made a comfortable bed for you in his lab as he worked on something to free you of your sickness, making sure to also check on you the whole time.

he eventually made a concoction that helped your fever go away, body aches disappear, and clears your nose, however it didn't fix the headache. you don't mind, at least you can move your body without wanting to throw yourself off the planet.

anaxa gives you a minor scolding. something about taking better care of yourself and making him fuss over you, but he kisses your cheek and sighs. "i love you, and i'd figure out the cure to any disease that attacks you, but please don't do this again."

mydei lets you rest on top of him for the first day you got sick. tissues, snacks, thermometer, change of clothes.. all of that are set up on your nightstand. the only times he got up was to make you warm meals, and to replace the icepack that pressed up against your forehead.

honestly, he loves this. he knows the reason why you're warm is because you're literally burning up, but he likes it. you're like a little heating pad and you're extra clingy, weak arms squeezing his chiseled chest makes him melt.

he smothers you in kisses and affection till you feel better (oh, and medicine).

if you chose to be clingy to mydei, phainon's choosing to be clingy to you! but you don't want him to be sick :( he's being a big baby when you try to pull away, but he doesn't care. you're too sickly to fight back and honestly his strong, firm arms around you sound real nice rn. and so you let him, to your dismay.

he's a bit of a jerk about it though, cold hands slipping under your shirt and causing you to shiver, hearing his giggles as he apologizes and squeezes you. phainon's got so much love for teasing you, but he knows you need care to be better.

you fall asleep wrapped in blankets and tangled up with phainon.

boothill's probably the best of them all. he doesn't get sick, and he's like a personal heater or cooler. if you're too warm or too cold, he can adjust his body temperature to your liking. "yer clingin' onto me like i'd ever want to go anywhere, darlin'." he teases, running his fingers through your hair as you press yourself against his cold metal, hating how hot your body feels.

he plays some music for you to relax to, and he's telling you tales of his adventures to get you to sleep. who knew a soft, southern accent could work so well as a lullaby?

his arms are locked around you. he's hiding his worry well, but when you fall asleep he's whispering about how you need to take better care of yourself. "though, mm.. yer real cute like this, all snuggly and sniffly. could baby 'ya all week."

dan heng is definitely more on the scolding side, the moment he wakes up to you squirming and sniffling, he's got an unamused look on his face. the night prior, you walked through the astral express doors absolutely soaked from the rain. dan heng helped you change, shower, dry your hair and sleep. but you woke up sick regardless.. like he said you would, like you said you wouldn't.

"this is why you should let me come with you to missions." he grumbles, stirring the bowl of warm stew he made for you as you lay in bed. "goodness, it was one mission, and you come home to me like this. i hate how much i love you." dan heng scoffed, blowing the spoon of warm food and holding it against your lips. "i can't fight this urge to care for you. you're just so.. ugh."

he falls asleep before you, funny enough. you admire the face of your loving boyfriend before drifting off to your own slumber.

you should get sick more often.

you can't even be mad at yourself, jing yuan has allowed you to cuddle up to his sweet, insanely fluffy lion. you can't tell if it's the clogged nose or all the fur you're inhaling, but you love it. and you've got a 'weighted' blanket too. aka your boyfriend.

jing yuan had already fed you your medicine, changed clothes, and fed you well. so there was nothing to do but wait for the next few hours till you'd have to drink medicine again, so now you two are just cuddled up to the embodiment of a cloud.

"you're liking this far too much." your beloved boyfriend remarks, rubbing his head against your tummy as you chuckle, although very weakly. "maybe, but i really do appreciate being taken care of."

the deepest, velvety laugh escapes his lips as he looks up at you, that same smirk he's always worn on his face. "nothing less than for you. now rest, my love. i'll have dinner served for you soon."

© sqgeism or wtv (^_^;)

[quixoticprince]

Yayyy!! Yippee!! I finally get to make one of these!! Art without the text under the cut and some long-winded elaborations:

How long I've been playing: well, it hasn't been a straight 11 years, rather off and on - but I have drawings of these guys dating back to when I was 14, so I'll give it to me. And man I had no business reading the fanfics I was reading back then It's also crazy how this was a super influential media for me in so many ways. It's the reason I ever made a tumblr, it changed the direction of my drawings for a long while, my broken sense of humor (gmod animation memes and yt poops were the brainrot back then), tf2 Sniper changed my god damned gender (rather, it was the inspiration for me to start socially transitioning at 15). This is part of my personal lore that I tend to not admit to 😓

Your main: I've always been completely ass at the game, and I can play flexibly, but I enjoy playing Sniper, and more recently as Heavy. Whenever I'm sitting around somewhere, occasionally throwing sandwiches and attracting Medics, I feel like this:

Favorite character: When I was younger it was definitely Medic, and I think you can tell that he's still up there based on how much I've drawn him! However, since getting back into it, I've felt quite a shift in focus towards Heavy, very strongly. It's unfortunate that he's side-lined in a lot of fanwork, and I think I'm also complicit in this so far - but for me it's cuz, how tf2 works is that it's going to prioritize humor over character and consistency haha, and Medic is just so loud and insane that he's really easy to make fun stuff with. Heavy is a more serious and grounded character, not to say that he's not funny or that he doesn't have his own cartoon slapstick moments! But that aspect of him is what is really really intriguing to me. I love his quiet, stoic, and intimidating character, I like how loud and boisterous he is when filled with bloodlust in contrast! I love his bird story and him getting into wrestling as a child from Poker Night. I love his back story setting, there's so much to extrapolate from a young boy in Russia growing up during WWII, what his parents must have been through before that from the aftermaths of the revolution, all the way to his fathers execution and his imprisonment. I love his strong relationship with his family, his role as an older brother, as a protector, as a man - the way that he performs these roles - and because I personally see him as bisexual - how his orientation intersects with all that! He is incredibly fascinating to me and I wish that he was played around with more to see a lot more corners and angles of these things that I listed! There's way more that I want to say here too but this is getting very long 😅

Character I relate to: It's so interesting that a lot of the characters have very strong, tho maybe dysfunctional, families. Heavy, Demo, and Sniper in particular really speak to me in that relation. From Heavy being an eldest brother (I am also an eldest sibling) the parentification that comes with that, especially with him probably being like 10 years older than his sisters from the looks of it. Demo and Sniper both struggle living up to their parents expectations (although there's a lot of love there from everyone), being disappointments in one way or another (not gonna deep dive into that lol), and the general alienation both of them feel. From Sniper not knowing why he's not like other Australians to Demo being "a black Scottish cyclops." And well, I'm Filipino, I'm queer, and mentally ill so - there's a lot to project there!

Class you want to play as: I find Medic incredibly stressful to play as but I find the idea of battle medics incredibly funny. However I usually find myself rushing around madly trying to cater to everyone, and I'd like to just not give a shit and just start stabbing people with a saw lol

Favorite ship: "I just like the dynamic" - The dynamic:

No but fr, they're really compelling to me, I'd probably need a longer more thought out post as to what I like about them and I was already going crazy up there ^ Overall tho I like that they're practically built for each other in terms of mechanics, really plays into my desire to spiral into intense codependency haha. I also think that Medic's drive to cheat death and hide behind meat shields plays really well into Heavy's desire to be a meat shield and a protector, and how nice it is in turn, that Medic can grant this man who's been around death, starvation, and war invulnerability. (He outsmart boolet, yknow?) They're also depicted together a lot and I like how much they enjoy each others company, and bring a lot of joy to each other. It's beautiful to me :'^)

Character you like to draw: What can I say! Medic is handsome! He is very fun to draw and easy to make memes and shit posts out of!

[reimeichan]

Signs of having DID that I ignored (note that these are not exclusively signs of DID but they were for me):

I don't have amnesia, that's just short term memory loss because I have ADHD!

I actually have a very good memory, I'm great at memorizing things (what do you mean that's not the same thing)

sure it may seem like my mood changes drastically but I've read online that's common in people with ADHD! it's hard for us to regulate our emotions!

so what if I have different preferences from time to time? that's normal right? like when your mood changes you may prefer different foods? what do you mean that's not the same as going from "I hate spicy foods" one day to "omg I LOVE spicy foods!" the next?

yeah okay I tend to space out in the middle of conversations then come back to and need you to remind me what you said for the past 10 seconds or so. that's just my ADHD inattentiveness. what do you mean that I only do this when stressed. what do you mean that's a form of dissociation.

speaking of dissociation, sure sometimes I feel like I'm watching myself say and do things without my own input but that's just because I was tired/stressed out

yeah sometimes I go on autopilot. my autopilot seems to have its own agenda sometimes though. weird.

sure I changed usernames a *few* times but isn't that pretty common? yeah I also wanted to change how I presented online and also my pronouns and stuff but again isn't it common for people to want to start over sometimes?

*making multiple accounts to play the same game because I play the game differently on different accounts and don't want to mess things up on one account*

oh yes, I'm genderfluid! I say that because my gender absolutely changes from moment to moment and sure it seems kinda tied to other aspects of myself like color preferences and energy levels and personality traits but I'm pretty sure that's just par for the course with genderfluidity?

"you're so different when you're around your parents vs when you're at school/work vs when you're hanging out with friends!" yeah that's called being a complex person we all have different masks we wear in different social situations and I'm no different even if it seems more extreme for me

"how was school/work/the hang-out/going to visit your parents?" I don't know I'm tired and have a giant headache and can't remember

"you said this to me the other day and it made me feel <x>" what????? I literally have no memory of this and that's so incredibly out of character for me wtf I would never do that I was probably just really stressed out and tired and had no filter on.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

SPOILER SPOILER

new yuu for the scara manga. Credits to magister_xehanort on reddit. Doesn't she looks cool?!! She kinda gives me kalim vibes since she looks bubbly. What do you think miss raven?

I already gave my (very brief) preliminary thoughts on our new Yuu, Yuuna Oujou (I must stress it is NOT Ojou) in this post. I would be more than happy to expand on those thoughts here though ^^

So firstly, this Yuu is a girl--and a very feminine presenting one at that. This supports the theory that each manga!Yuu will be going in the boy-girl-boy-girl order, or perhaps the opposite gender of the Great Seven member of each book/dorm.

I think it's great that we have a very femme Yuu in official Twst media; it definitely adds to the diversity of the Yuuniverse. I especially appreciate what this implies about the NRC cast: they don't treat a girly girl significantly differently (whether being overly nice, overly mean, or overly awkward around her) than they would a masculine-presenting or nonbinary Yuu.

One thing I LOVE about Yuuna is that she actually has several unique interactions with the NRC cast and the world. Part of why I don't like Yuuken or Yuuka as much is because their level-headed personalities didn't lead to them really changing much about how they interacted with this new environment + people (other than the occasional change, like Yuuka squaring up to fight). I liked Yuuta a lot more because he has way more moments to "be himself" in the world, like using his cooking to convince Leona to let him sleep over in Savanaclaw, being softer around Jack, and having a backbone when Grim tries to hurriedly cram food into his mouth before class. Yuuna goes even FURTHER than that. She has her own nicknames for each character, takes selfies with them, literally plunges into Kalim's Oasis Maker water without a care in the world, plays dress-up with the shiny stuff in Scarabia's storage room, freaks out about the bugs in Ramshackle, and SO much more. Yuuna legitimately feels like a part of this world rather than a passenger in it.

I think we should talk more about how Yuuna dresses! This is known as gyaru, which is a Japanese fashion subculture typically known for its rebellious outfits, tanned skin, big and/or dyed or bleached hair, many accessories, and exaggerated makeup. It is also associated with a particular attitude or behaviors, such as being outgoing, sociable, and energetic. The name gyaru (ギャル) originates from a Japanese transliteration of the English word 'gal'. I believe the style originally developed in the 1970s as a statement of nonconformity to Japanese beauty standards (which emphasizes being pale-skinned, dark-haired, and demure in their appearance). Gyaru was originally considered very inappropriate, and the older generation tend to stereotype it as frivolous and associated with adolescent delinquency. In the west, it was even sometimes mistaken as racist depictions of dark-skinned people. Nowdays, gyaru is more understood as being a way for people to break out of conventional beauty standards set upon them by society.

What Yuuna wears, as one of the anons shares, is a substyle of gyaru called kogal or kogyaru (子ギャル or コギャル). The 子 or コ (ko) in kogyaru means "child", referring to the childishness or youthfulness of those who typically wear this fashion. It is defined by those who wear clothes resembling Japanese high school uniforms with alterations and flairs made to them. (These alterations are usually frowned upon, as Japanese schools are very strict about wearing their uniform properly.) This could include alterations in color, wearing one's uniform differently, wearing loose socks, shortening the skirt, and/or adding accessories to bags. We may also see bleached hair and/or tanned skin. This substyle formed in the late 1980s and early 1990s, but is popular in modern day, as it has been picked up and promoted by Japanese media.

As I mentioned in the original post, Yuuna comes from the countryside and she helps her family out on their rice fields. However, her dream is to become a model in Tokyo (this is what her audition was for).

We don't get to see a lot of her parents, but I don't get the impression that they disapprove of her fashion or life choices. They just short of tell her off for looking at magazines while she's supposed to be doing work. They allow her to go to a modeling audition too, rather than taking efforts to prevent it or to shame her from going. There's also no bullying alluded to or mentioned; I genuinely don't think Yuuna is supposed to have a tragic background. (None of the other manga!Yuus did, either.) She just has an interest in this fashion, and there doesn't have to be a deep or trauma-related reason for it. Simply her being into the gyaru subculture makes her a foil to Jamil. Gyaru is all about expressing oneself, even if society frowns upon it. Yuuna is able to be "true to herself" in this way, despite coming from a humble background. She is also willing and able to help her family out with their rice fields--but her aspirations lie elsewhere. Jamil isn't able to do the same. His family actively opposes his decisions and put him in a position where he isn't able to freely express himself or pursue anything other than what he was born into. He comes to resent what his family does and how he is forced to comply with it.

It's also interesting that her bubbly personality is also similar to Kalim's. Yuuna is shown to get along with him very well and is super friendly to the other NRC students, just like Kalim is. I wonder if this also plays into why Jamil thinks she can be easily manipulated (since he was also able to easily manipulate Kalim in book 4). He may underestimate them because of their similar personalities.

One last thing I want to note is 🤔 Yuuna continues the pattern of all manga!Yuus having surnames related to death... Her surname, Oujou, sounds like おうじょう or 往生際 (oujougiwa), a word that can mean "rebirth in another world", "a calm and peaceful death, "to breathe one's last", and/or "the moment before death/the brink of death". Ominous...

[tarotofhope]

Masterlist | Paid Services

Note: These are just my random personal observations, I hope you guys resonate with this. You can apply this to both western or vedic placements. There are some triggers/negative traits as well in some points, but please don't take any offense. I'll be writing mostly about Sun placements mainly because we don't get to know about people's other placements easily.

☾✴ Taurus moons or ascendants especially the ones with Rohini Nakshatra look gorgeous, soft, sensual and sexy. They have these beautiful big round eyes, button noses and full prominent lips. They have great sex appeal.

☾✴ I've noticed that people who have Libra placements in the big 3 have pale or lighter skin color than other people, no matter what ethnicity, culture, religion you belong to, I mean to say that, whether you're brown, black or white, If you have this placement, you will have either a fairer, more lighter shade or paler skin than other people. These guys rarely have skin problems because their skin is very healthy, clean, free of acne, almost like baby skin.

☾✴ Gemini Sun women mostly have curly or very wavy hair. They like to have shorter hair length and love to change their hairstyles often. Gemini Sun men are also very conscious about their hair, they also love to fashion their hair in different styles.

☾✴ Aries Sun men and women are very emotional from the inside, they would punch you in the face if you get them angry but then they'd also feel very bad about it later. They would cry for their loved ones very easily but people are always fooled by their rough and tough exterior.

☾✴ Cancer Sun women know very well how to hide behind their emotional veil even when they're at fault. Playing victim, they'd attack from behind that veil, making the other person look faulty. They're very uncomfortable around other strong and confident women, so they use their only weapon(emotions) to bring them down. They mostly see straightforward behaviour and confidence as a bad attribute or a threat.

☾✴ Virgo Sun women assume the weirdest of sh*t about other people's personal stuff, especially the things they're not aware about. I can give you n number of examples for this because I kid you not, I've mostly met Virgos all my life uptil now, all genders, all ages. They are good at rational analysis but this habit comes off as different to me from their otherwise popular traits. I've noticed this mostly in women, like many years ago, I had a bad cough and cold for a few days(not during Covid), I took a day off, went to the doctor, took my meds but had to go to office next day, so while in office, this one colleague who was a Virgo sat in the next cubicle besides me, so I was coughing most of the time, she looked at me and asked, "Are you suffering from TB? Haven't you seen a doctor? See, I'm telling you, it might be TB, you must go check." I was like wtf..!! I said, "No! It's not TB and I did go to the doctor. It's just common cough and cold, don't assume just anything." More than looking worried, she talked in a tone like I was dumb and stupid. My mom(a Virgo Sun), makes similar kind of weird assumptions, almost everyday.

Love, light, peace and hope to you..🌸🍁🌻🌼

Thank you so much for being here. I post PAC & Astrology Observations. Do love and support by reblogging, liking or following.

——————————— ♡ ♡ ♡ ———————————

[reikissu]

❥･• kaedehara kazuha and wanderer dating hcs.

a/n: might be ooc, i’ll try my best to edit it and make it more accurate to their character huhu

ꔛ genre: fluff, romance

ꔛ reader: gender neutral

ꔛ warnings: corny stuff, cursing

my, you're a lucky one to be the paramour of kaedehara kazuha.. because life is about to change.

he's swift as the wind, with just his way of words and voice.. he can make you turn flustered in a matter of minutes.

with just a call, you feel as if you're on cloud 9.

"dearest, may you come here?" "huh? uh sure...! (⌯❛௦❛⌯)" then he asks why your cheeks are red HAHA

his petnames for you are like a sweet flavor to his tongue, calling you out by using his petnames makes him feel warm.

he calls you dearest, dear and love. they vary in different days when he chooses one.

his love language is definitely gifts and physical touch, he loves writing poems and giving it to you, since you are his inspiration of the poems he gives to you.

and they turn out to be so romantic that you start giggling while reading it, after all.. it is all about you and he wrote it full-heartedly.

everytime it’s autumn, he would bring you to a cliff where the trees are in view, sitting next to you as you both behold the sight of the maple leaves flowing along with the wind.

he would take one leaf and put it behind your ear as an accessory, "you look beautiful, my love." he says as he gives a soft smile. 🤭

as i also mentioned, his other love language is physical touch. he likes to feel your soft skin against his, he'll kiss you, hug you, hold your hand.. anything that’s comfortable with you.

on certain occasions he would hold your hand, whenever you both are alone of course.. wouldn’t want anyone prying on your moments with kazuha, no?

he would share his experiences when he traveled with beidou or by himself, it would always have interesting events happening in them. so it’s very entertaining to listen to.

HE DEF KNOWS HOW TO SEW, because i hc that when tomo had rips on his clothes, kazuha would fix them. so kazuha would gift you handmade clothes, handkerchiefs, scarfs… you name it, and it will always be in your favorite color. “Ah, shit! My sleeve ripped!” “Mm? Oh, give me the top you’re currently wearing tomorrow, i will fix it.” “You know how to sew?” “Yes, my dear.” “Aw, thank you..” “You’re welcome :)”

sometimes when you both are in the mood to hangout on the ship, Captain Beidou always teases you both “Hey, hey.. no one told me the lovebirds would board the ship!” “Captain beidou…” you and the other crew mates just laugh it off.

you and Beidou would talk about Kazuha and tell stories, and she had one piece of advice for you. “Just come to me if Kazuha hurts you or did something wrong, i’ll teach that kid a lesson.” “Is that a threat, captain?” you laugh, kazuha mutters under his breath, leaning on the wall of the ship "Why would i ever do that to them.."

all jokes aside, having kazuha in your life is a blessing from the gods that you can never thank them enough for.

at first, wanderer wasn’t the sweetest boyfriend. But after learning about relationships and love.. he started showing how much he loves you.

after he regained his memories, he was back to his old, sassy and arrogant self. But that didn’t stop him from being soft around you.

in public, he’s the biggest asshole you’ll ever meet istg, but when alone with you, he just suddenly melts into your touch.

he’d let you play with his hair, cuddle with him or more. you’re one of the people he trusts and loves, so he doesn’t mind it. he likes being pampered and pampering you.

he doesn’t have a petname for you, he just calls you by your name. but if he’s feeling nice enough, he’ll call you babe.

“Babe, can you-“ “Huh? What did you call me? 🤩” “..Babe. Are you deaf?” “OH MY GOSH 🥹” then he’d just stare at you like “what’s so shocking about that?” HAHAHAHAHA

his love language would mainly be physical touch, but in my opinion his love languages would be all, depending on his mood.

he would make fun of you sometimes, if you trip he’d definitely laugh his ass off but will help you stand up, if you accidentally say something that is SO stupid he’ll literally never shut up about it.

he would try food or things that you like, so he’d understand your preferences. But if you like sweets, he’d have a hard time with it. he’d spend an hour just trying to swallow it, he hates it.

“What’s wrong? Do you not like dango?” “….No. I like dango.” (He’s about to puke.)

wanderer wasn’t very good at showing his love through physical touch, but he would give you soft yet quick kisses, it’s like cotton grazing on your lips. after a while, he would be able to kiss you more confidently without any hesitation in private.

he is slightly showy in public, just subtle hand and waist holding as you two walk through sumeru, eat somewhere, or do any activities outside. like stargazing, watching a play etc.

whenever he would see you eyeing something you want, he would click his tongue and say “Tsk, buy it yourself.” then later night he’s holding a bag with the item/food you wanted earlier… “Hm? Isn’t that the food/thing i wanted?” “…Yeah.” “I thought you told me to buy it myself?” “Shut up, i changed my mind.” (he will get absolutely pissed off and flustered if you tease him about it 😭)

he would help you in any way he can, cooking, laundry, blahblahblah. just anything, so he could take the weight off your shoulders. you’re a hardworking person in his eyes, and he admires that, and he’s willing to be one with you.

he would surprisingly like cuddling, but not the one with those type of cuddling where it turns into some steamy stuff. i have a gut feeling he would love chill and tender moments with you, like talking about past experiences and laughing together, watching a movie together, etc. he loves seeing you smile and laugh, it makes him feel warm inside.

would kill for you, if anyone tries to harm you, they’ll be buried 6 feet under for that. even though he acts hard to get, he loves and cares for you a lot. he does not give a single shit if you’re bigger and taller than him, he knows he’s capable of protecting you.

overall, his life with you is the happiest one he has ever had. wanderer loves you with all his heart.

© reikissu do not repost/steal any of my works and repost it on other platform/s. I do not own the characters i write for at all, reblogs are appreciated though ♡

[livelaughlovesubs]

F-yo-dor~

Dom!reader x sub!fyodor (reader is gender neutral)

Warning: pegging (can be read as a dick), CNC, dacryphilia, feminisation

I wrote this before, but I changed some stuff

Fyodor positioned himself in your lap, straddling you before sitting down completely. He could feel a throbbing sensation as he let himself be filled. Then he shifted around for a bit, gaze not leaving yours for a moment. It was adorable how he thought he’s in control, just because he was on top. Once the man settled down comfortably, he started going up and down at you. Riding and bouncing on your dick with a hint of desperation. His hands gripped your shoulders, and he quickened his pace, revelling in the power he held in this situation. For example being able to choose the intensity of the act as he pleased, he smirked at you the entire time. Even though he tried to be more domineering in this case, he couldn’t keep his voice down. Moans slipped from his lips, mixed with an occasional whimper.

You just sat down and let him do, watching him getting off on top was you was amusing to say the least. How he looked at you was playful and smug, but you didn’t care, you were going to let him have his moment. The play unfolding in front of you was pathetic but also arousing. The sound of skin against skin reached your ears, along with his gasps and whimpers. Slowly his movements heightened in intensity, you could tell he was close already. “Ahh~uuUhhmm!" an especially loud moan slipped from the male as he came on top of you. His panting was heavy, torso rising and lowering with every breath.

After he came down from his high, he smirked at you. Looking at you through half lidded eyes, which were a bit hidden by his bangs. His cheeks had turned reddish, and he stopped holding onto you. “You aren’t satisfied, right? But I won’t keep going unless you beg.” Fyodor said, while his hole clenched around you, and thighs trembled with excitement. Then your hands suddenly gripped his hips. The grip was very rough, next day there would be marks. He yelped, shrieked and wrapped his arms around your neck again. Without wasting time you forced him to move back and forth, grinding the toy against his walls.

That look on his face! It was so lewd and perverted! How his eyes widened, mouth hung agape and shock washed over him. Out of nowhere his blush intensified, and was spreading to his shoulders now. “Did you have fun pretending to be in control? Haha~” you teased him, mocking him for his delusion.

A mixture of horror, confusing and pleasure blend within him as you kept forcing him to move. He didn’t know what to think about this situation, so all he did was moan on your dick like a slut in heat. “Ah..aAHHH..! oOH, nghh..” the sounds he made were amazing, you lost yourself in it and subconsciously fastened the pace. The grip on his waist tightened, almost painfully as you forcefully guide his movements. Pressing and trusting into him at an even faster pace then before. How you abruptly shifted the dynamics shocked him, the male was still irritated as to what just happened. His earlier teasing and confident gaze changed to one of vulnerability, your words reminding him that he is still at your mercy.

The pace which you set was so rough, it was too much for him. Pleasures and ecstasy rippled through his body, his eyes rolled back while his whole body shivered. Poor boy was drooling while he pleaded with you, “stop! AHhh s-stop~” tears were decorating his pretty face as well, hands gripping your arms now as you kept your steady movements. "Slow downnn! Nghh, ple-ase..gentler...”

You were still rutting into him, forcing him up and down your dick. His cries and whines were like music in your ears, causing you to increase the intensity once again. Making him surrender to the overwhelming sensations of pain and bliss. Each rhythmic snap of your hips against his got his head spinning around, the feeling maddening but also addictive. Things only got worse for the boy when you started hitting his sweet spot with precision. Now his dick throbbed and leaked uncontrollably, this was evidence of the pleasure he was receiving. “I-it's so..intense, hAah- you are so.. so rough with me! Nghh…please gimme a breaAAK~”

Without listening to his begs, you kept degrading him, “Hah, you are dipping wet down here, Fyodor. What, have you become a girl? Do you like this so much?” You snickered at the display in front of you. The words you whispered to him mingled with his brain, making him feel humiliated even somehow even more embarrassed than he already was. “N-no..'m not a girl.! I'm a guy- ahhh~ please, i-I'm not wet..!" He tried to defend himself even though he knew it's hopeless and that he was playing right into your palm. “It that so? F-yo-dor~?” The way you said his name made him shudder, how did he even turn into this mess? Wasn't he a feared ability user before? Reduced to a mere whore- no, your whore.

“AHHhh..pleA~se! I-I can't- uhmm, gahh..” “Are you close again? Go on, Fyodor, hehe.” You couldn’t help but chuckle, his unfocused eyes were really erotic after all. Luckily got him you gave him the permission he needed, he didn't think twice about it before white ropes of cum shoot from his arousal. Body shaking in your grip, head thrown back as he let out small begs for mercy. His legs trembled, unable to move after the intense play of you two. You were still holding his slim body, his soft skin against your fingers. He could feel his conscious fading, unable to keep his eyes from closing. The last thing he heard was, "mine." Before the exhaustion overtook his body and he slumped against your chest.

[geopsych]

The reason I saw those red-winged blackbirds out back and I saw the snipe in the park the other day is that much of the marsh by the park has been destroyed and when I went down there I saw a bulldozer and a huge dump truck loudly destroying the hill next to it, what I used to call Fox Hill because whatever vixen had a den nearby would hunt there among the grasses, weeds and shrubs for the abundant mice and voles, to support the kits in her womb and then in the den. Along with everything else that's going on, the loss of the red-wings in that spot where I've seen them for all these years and possibly the loss of a viable fox population in the woods at the park (the woods now bought by the borough so they can "improve" it) it's all making me incredibly sad. I used to love glimpsing foxes, especially seeing the young ones playing. I counted on hearing the red-wings there every February. But it also made me think of something I wanted to say here. Everybody probably knows I support people of various genders and preferences. I hope everyone knows I support trans people and count a number of trans people as my friends.

But more than that I want to say that I also support and love people who are messes, including people who can't decide what gender they are but also including people who can't get out of bed in the morning, people who other people consider ugly or overweight, people who can't get their acts together, people who struggle with disabilities and those who are just sad and lonely, people who think of themselves as writers or artists or musicians but can't bring themselves to do the thing. And of course the people whose minds are always on their blorbos.

Do you know how much I would rather share this world and this life with you than with the business assholes and the people who lord it over everyone with their work ethic or their beauty or their fitness or their money or whatever? Yes, we need people who get things done but we also need regular people to just be regular people with. I feel this so strongly! Life is really hard right now for a lot of people. It's difficult just to face each day even if your circumstances at home and work haven't changed, because of the stuff we're hearing on a regular basis. Meanwhile things like what's happening at the park or other bad things we want to rave about or mourn for keep happening and we hardly feel like we have room to react the way we need to in this environment of constant horror. Our personal horrors and griefs get overwhelmed by the news and we don't get to process them. So it's really okay if you find it hard to live in this world. It's really okay if you're not living up to other people's or even your own standards. I know you want a happier life and I want that for all of us but it's hard to see the way there when it feels like everything's being torn down. The thing where they had to go in and shoot thousands of snow geese in the quarries here plus the bulldozing of the marsh and the hill next to the park and the purchasing of the woods aren't big things in the context of the world but those were things that helped me feel like there were good things around me. Now I feel like anything might be next, nothing is safe. I think a lot of people feel that way right now. Sending you hugs if wanted. <3 I'm glad you're here!

[bamfkeeper]

Kurt is a 100% a bratty sub. 18+ MDNI

I like to explore all sorts of ways he can be written, and as a sub he is a fucking brat. Fight me. Not a fic, mostly just a collection of thoughts on the topic <3 Not written in any kind of order, it bounces around.

Warnings: Dom/sub dynamics, bratty Kurt ofc, mentions of things like spanking and bondage, overall a lot of basic dom/sub stuff. Written gender neutral, but reader is a top. Skip if it's not your thing. Ignore mistakes unedited.

Kurt is such a brat with you.

He absolutely loves to tease you in every way possible and he talks back a lot. Whether it's during a serious conversation or a playful banter, he never misses a chance to throw in a cheeky comment. He constantly plays around with you in the bedroom, bringing that mischievous attitude into your intimate sessions.

With a sly grin, he'll often respond to a command with a defiant "Nein" whenever you tell him to do something, or challenge you with a bold "Make me." But, you have to admit his playful defiance and cheeky behavior make being his dominant much more fun.

He's such a little shit. But nothing a bit of spanking can fix. Turns out, he's very persuasive when you threaten to spank him. Especially if you use one of your toys for spanking instead of your hand. However he is more durable that you thought he'd be, so spanking can consist of a lot of spanks or hard spanks for him to 'learn' what he did wrong.

This one pouts like his life depends on it too. He tries to hard to get out of punishments by giving you bit puppy eyes. "Bitte...I won't be bad again..." Lies. He will. Your skeptical look and the way you cross your arms makes his heart race and he pouts harder, begging with his eyes not to punish him for disobeying you for the exact same thing again.

Don't give in.

Sometimes you have to tie him up to punish him because his tail likes to get in the way. You don't want to hit it accidentally, his tail is strong but prone to fractures and breaks, especially if you hit it hard enough. So you have to tie it up out of the way, and get on with the punishment. He enjoys bondage more than you'd think, he's so flexible so a lot of the poses you put him in even surprise you from time to time.

Aside from sex, he's super needy and clingy, but he's also mischevious and playful. He always likes being close to you, even when he misbehaves, he seeks you out for reassurance that you still love him (you obviously do), and he lays on top of you. He likes how you act nurturing at times because he failed to experience much of it in his upbringing. The circus was not too kind to him, despite the vast and brilliant shows they performed, there was always a hidden darkness to it that he didn't like to talk about.

Kurt sleeps curled up against you, enjoying the warmth and closeness. He likes being the little spoon and feeling you play with his hair while he settles in for the night. As he gets comfortable, his face buries into your chest, and his tail curls around your leg in a tight embrace. "Ich liebe dich," he murmurs softly against your skin, smiling to himself as he inhales your familiar scent. He finds so much comfort and peace when you hold him close, and he absolutely loves the feeling of security and love it brings. He feels safe, cherished, and content in your arms, knowing that you are there with him. The simple act of being held by you means the world to him, and it's something he looks forward to every night.

Back to the sex aspect, he is needy and whimpers a lot when you bury into him. His cock twitches and leaks onto his blue belly while you stretch him out with your dick (real or silicone whichever fits you). His tight muscles squeeze around you and you huff at how you have to really stretch him. Sweet boy is so flexible too, you can fold him in half and rut your hips into his hole and he will just groan and moan your name loudly.

"So pretty when you whine for me, baby..." You coo to him, watching his face change to a bright violet that dusts over his cheeks and his eyes get glossy from the pleasure. You love to overstimulate him or deny him as a form of punishment for his bratty behavior, he always acts tough but once you get him like this his resolve crumbles down.

"B-bitte...I need to...bitte!" His sweet voice wavers as he begs, looking at you desperately, observing your even face. You have to tsk and sigh, gazing down at him.

"Ah, but baby, you were so, so stubborn earlier...what happened, hm?" you chuckled lightly at the pitiful whine he gives you.

You give in and let him cum or you don't. It's completely up to you and how much you want to hear him beg.

Anywayyy this plagues my brain. Sorry it's short and simple I have two blogs I'm running now lmao it's a lot. But I have lots of drafts!

Thanks for reading <3

*BAMF*

dividers by @/adornedwithlight

[bkgexe]

he ain't heavy (he's my—)

caleb (love and deepspace) x reader ✾ 8.3k

info! You and he used to be synonyms. Two words with the same definition. The question you both try and fail to answer: what are you now? ✾ tw! pseudocest. and im sorry. size difference mention multiple times. f!reader, referred to with gendered language ✾ notes! lordddddd they're so weird i need them to be together. this is really sappy and self-indulgent and the smut is like. ???? i don't even know. look mc's got a lot to think abt while getting railed. you can also read on ao3 instead with like proper grammar and stuff lmaooooo

you’ve always been like this with him. a little more childish, a little more petulant. it doesn’t matter that you’re older now, that you consider yourself a decently mature person when it comes to every other situation in your life. 

he hurt you, and you want to hurt him back.

maybe hurt is a small word for what he’s done. you missed him. you mourned him. you went back to the burnt husk of your childhood neighborhood for weeks after the explosion, looking for any trace of him that might’ve gone unnoticed. as if you would be able to discern his remnants because you knew him better than anybody else. like you could pick his ashes from the rest, set them aside and declare them clothing or muscle or tooth. 

the two of you were inseparable when you were younger. even when you got into different hobbies, made friends outside of each other, attended different academies after high school—it was unspoken that your home was with one another. you grew up, but not apart. long periods of time spent away from each other were difficult. you might have doubted that he felt the same if he didn’t constantly tell you how much he missed you, if he hadn’t been the one that called you every day, that asked if you were eating enough, that texted to make sure you were going to bed at a reasonable hour.

the more unfamiliar distance is, the sharper it becomes. you can’t see the blade of it at arm’s length. when caleb died, you became acquainted with distance so quickly that you couldn’t remember what it felt like when the knife wasn’t already between your ribs.

you’re sure he felt that too. your wounds mirror each other’s, as they often do. as they often did. but there’s no comparing temporary and permanent. antonyms. something you and caleb hadn’t been until now. it’s why you want him to hurt. it’s why you want to lash out like you used to when you were a child, mad because he went and played with his friends for too long, frustrated because his fingers would tangle in your hair and pull uncomfortably when he undid your braids. you’re doing that on purpose, you would accuse, and he would laugh and call you a crybaby. 

lashing out requires his presence. this is why you seek him out. even though he still doesn’t tell you everything—can’t, he reminds you whenever it’s brought up—you still visit him whenever he tells you he has time off, allow him into your home when he shows up uninvited. you pretend that you don’t know it’s not a coincidence when you run into him in both skyhaven and linkon, more often than not when you’re hanging out with male friends. you want him to be there because you can’t hurt him if he’s not around. maybe it’s unfair, but you’re allowed to act like this with him—he’s your big brother. was. tenses have been harder since he returned. you had only just gotten used to putting everything in the past. the present is different than it used to be. you’re adjusting at too slow a pace, already tired from the adjusting you had to do after his death.

but there’s something that’s been building between you that’s different. something like heat, something you’re not sure you should feel with a person you once considered as close as family. something you can’t look at closely, its details all primed to change things too dramatically, too quickly.

the point: you’ve known caleb your whole life. (you’ve also known zayne your whole life, an entirely unhelpful voice in your brain provides, and your grandma always joked about the two of you getting married.) that doesn’t matter. it’s inconsequential. he didn’t grow up in the same home as you, like caleb did. he didn’t walk you home from school every day, or help you dry your hair on wash days, or make you late night meals when you had to stay up doing homework.

(zayne also doesn’t give you the kind of look caleb does when you come visit him, like you’re the sun and the center of the universe and the most perfect being to ever exist all at once.)

you like being revered—who doesn’t? but that’s normal, because people often hold their family members in high regard. in the same way you hold caleb. because you’ve looked up to him your whole life, from when he was getting into fights as a kid to protect you from bullies up until now, where—despite the things he’s keeping from you—he’s very obviously taking on more than he can handle. you’ve always admired his selflessness, his willingness to carry burdens. like atlas, a world forever on his back. your entire universe sitting in the divot between his wide shoulders.

caleb made you cry after he went to the daa only once, when you first visited. you were terribly attached to him, devastated by him leaving home. you were an emotionally high-strung wreck and anything even slightly distressing made you well up, made it feel like the world was coming to an end. maybe that’s just being sixteen.

but his roommate had come back to their dorm and asked, “oh, is this your sister?”

caleb had been laughing with you only moments prior. he stayed smiling, but there was something underneath—a seriousness that he reserved for anyone but you. a little cold, ultimately more severe than you ever thought he should have to be. “no,” he said, like the idea itself was ridiculous. “we just grew up together.”

people had referred to you as brother and sister plenty when you were little, and even though it wasn’t actually the truth, it wasn’t something you dismissed as easily as caleb had to his roommate. you were tearing up when you asked him about it. the hormones, the devastation, the thought of him wanting to remove himself from your life in some fashion.

“i just—don’t see you that way,” he told you. “it doesn’t mean you’re not special to me. you’re the most special to me.”

you’d accepted it because he called you special and (back then, not so much now) you could always tell when he was lying.

(maybe you’ve never been good at discerning his lies from truth. maybe the two run so concurrently that they rest hand-in-hand, so colored by the other that they don’t have clear start and end points. synonyms, like you and caleb used to be. you worry that you don’t know him the way you thought you did when you were a teenager, when you could call him and accurately predict which ring he’d pick up on.)

you always feel flushed when you think of him like this. heat on your face. because he’s not your brother. or he was, but he isn’t now. or he is still, in some ways, and in some ways he’s not. he’s still the boy that showed you how to catch fireflies and poke holes in the top of mason jars so they could light up the porch during summer nights, and you’re still the girl that reminded him to open up the jars before you both went to bed so that the fireflies would be there to catch another day. but he’s also the man that looks at you with something so terribly heavy in his gaze that you’re scared to put it into words—and you’re also the woman that surrenders into the warmth of his palm when he cups your face, that doesn’t pull away when your mouths are so close that you can feel his breath on your lips.

it's this new heat. new, you tell yourself, even though you know it goes back further.

you touched yourself to the thought of him even before he died. this is something you can’t ever tell anyone—can barely even think about yourself. it was an accident. it didn’t count. you got distracted and thought about his thumb against your tongue and his broad shoulders under your hands and the weight of him between your thighs and you came so hard that it felt like dying, just a little. every time it happened after that, the mantra: it was an accident. it didn’t count. it was an accident.

and you wonder if you could classify the way you punish him as an accident, too. because you want him to hurt. but you also know what he wants most, in some abstract way. it would be clear if you let yourself think about it, but the same haze fixes itself over those thoughts—accident, doesn’t count—so you act half on instinct. a vague comment here, a gaze that lingers too long there. a finger drawn up the back of his uniform’s coat after you fix his collar, ghosting across the long length of his spine. 

a fever pitch. its synonyms: excitement, agitation. two opposites shoved into the same feeling. that’s the only way to describe the way things are around you and caleb now. breaths are counted, often hitched. touches are limited before they get dangerous. caleb has invited you to skyhaven for a long weekend, even with the fever pitch, the heat and the excitement and the agitation. maybe he’s a glutton for punishment. maybe he knows he deserves it. maybe he’ll take you any way he can have you.

“there she is,” he says when you let yourself in, the same way he always does. grinning wide like he can’t stop himself. handsome in a way that makes your stomach twist. your mouth goes a little dry when you see that he’s only half dressed, just in his uniform slacks and socks because he didn’t realize how early you’d be getting to his place. 

the socks are ones he got when he was with you. cheap, girly, cute. pink and green, little frogs dotted all across his large feet. you’d been walking around skyhaven together and it had started raining, and soon enough your shoes and socks were soaked, same as his. he took you to a convenience store and bought temporary replacements, and these were the only socks, for some reason, that were sold in men’s sizes. 

“dressed up for today, huh?” you ask, motioning to the socks. “special occasion? were you the belle of the ball?”

“i got to dance with the prince and everything,” he tells you. comes over to greet you with a hug, and you try to ignore the heat of his skin, his unbuckled belt. he’s so big that the embrace swallows you up, makes you feel like you’re eighteen again and caleb is coming home from the daa to see you. home is the word that sticks in your mind, that refuses to leave. “and, would you believe it, they crowned me homecoming queen.”

“i thought they stopped doing that at royal gatherings,” you say into his chest. “too many queens in one room, you know? a lot of tension.” 

he laughs and holds you for longer than you feel is necessary. you have to shoo him away to get ready and try not to let your eyes wander as he walks to his—your?—bedroom. that matter will have to be settled before you sleep here tonight. you do a decent job at not looking at his wide, muscled back.

you do less of a good job at not looking when all he puts on is one of his old sleeveless shirts and a pair of basketball shorts from the daa. like you’re both back home. like he never left. irresistible isn’t a word that caleb is allowed. not in the context of you. but when he’s like this—when things feel close to before—that word comes closer to applying.

“wanna go to the ice cream place around the corner?” he grins when he asks you this, cocky, because he already knows your answer. “i think they have that weird old man flavor you like. what is it? rum raisin?”

“pecan praline,” you say, but you know he already knew that too. “and shut up, it’s good.”

he takes you to ice cream and pays. gets rocky road for himself. takes licks from your ice cream cone when you let down your defenses and makes you watch the flat of his tongue curl in a way that should be illegal.

well—he doesn’t make you watch. you make yourself watch. you think you would die if you didn’t. you wonder if he notices because he takes more licks than he has any right taking of a flavor he describes as "ancient and gross.”

when you get home—to his home, you clarify in your mind, though he has gone through pains to make it feel like yours as well—the ice cream is all gone. your hands are a little sticky. the cost of something whimsical and fun. he asks if you want to watch a movie before dinner and you say, “i don’t want to watch a movie.”

and everything gets a little quiet.

you hate that there’s something building between you. you hate that you can’t look it in the face and very easily figure out exactly what it is. you hate spending time with him but you don’t think life would be worth living if you never got to spend time with him again.

“what do you wanna do, then?” his voiced is laced with insinuation. you don’t think he meant to sound like this. his eyes dart away from yours for a moment to safer territory before coming back.

you feel like you’re in high school, like you’re visiting a guy friend’s home and he’s doing something that’s going to make you call caleb to come pick you up. except you don’t want to go home and you don’t want to be picked up and caleb is already right here in front of you, where you’ve maybe wanted him always.

“i want—” you start, and you can’t. you can’t look at it.

he steps towards you. he’s big—so much bigger than you remember. wider. he’s put on muscle since he came to skyhaven and part of you wants to know how much. “hmm?”

you want something he can’t give you. you want that something so bad you could unravel into yarn, ball yourself up and roll under a bed somewhere, never to be found. you think that longing and mourning are two different flavors of the same thing.

“cook for me,” you command, because telling him to do something is easier than making yourself do something, and you can have space from him while he’s in the kitchen.

he makes you dinner. your favorite. has the ingredients on hand like always, like when you used to drop in on him at the daa. like he was always prepared for you to be a part of his life, a permanent fixture. you eat together while watching a film that just came out, one you both wanted to see. thought you said you didn’t want to watch a movie, he teases when you put it on, and you ignore him because you’re both well aware that he’s prodding at a wound that’s liable to open.

the idea of space was abandoned the second he sat down—you’re pressed flush against his side, your head resting on his shoulder when you’re not taking bites of his incredible cooking. it’s the way you used to eat together when you were kids. you’re aware of every stretch of bare skin that touches his. he takes up so much space—needs basically half of the couch to accommodate him, leaning back, legs spread wide. he’s your caleb when he’s like this: relaxed, always poised to smile, wearing the same clothes he’s worn since high school.

you stretch your legs out across his lap, curling yourself into him. his arm instinctually reaches across the back of the couch, lets you find purchase against his chest. it’s a familiar spot. distance seems far away, a dulled knife. this is your well-worn home, a niche you carved out with your bare hands over many years.

he clears his throat and his body stiffens. just a little. doesn’t count, your mind provides. a false memory, his thumb against your lips. an accident. “gettin’ comfy?”

“mmhmm.” you let him take your empty plate from you to put it on the side table, the muscles of his chest shifting and flexing underneath your cheek. you free up one of your legs and run your instep down his bare shin. go further, loop back so the outside of your foot traces a path up his calf, smooths against dark hair and warm skin.

he stops breathing altogether for a moment. but then he laughs low, like he’s amused, like you can’t hear the hollowness in it. “need me to move? we can’t both fit in this seat.”

sometimes you wish you could fit in his skin. that your bones could lie next to each other’s long before you’re buried together. that you could be synonyms again, that your definitions could match. 

(but you wonder, even if the explosion never happened, if there wouldn’t have eventually been this rift between the two of you. if it was an accident it doesn’t count would’ve been able to hide everything forever, if you could’ve succeeded in living happily like you always had. as family.)

“i’m not comfortable yet,” you grumble, petulant, and you get closer. scoot your body until you’re nearly sitting on his closest thigh. 

his free hand goes to your legs immediately. firm. holding you purposefully, a little more distant from his body than you want. “careful,” he warns very quietly. his voice is cold. that new tone that you’re not as familiar with. that he never used to use with you.

it’s him showing too much. careful of what? you could ask, and he wouldn’t be able to answer you. 

and then, the return of the caleb you know, as if he’d never left. “you wanna sit in my lap?” an innocent question, tinged with boyish charm. if he controls it, he can handle it. his voice is a little hoarse, only around the edges. you pretend not to notice.

you used to sit in his lap and nap against his chest all the time when you were little. there wasn’t this feeling there before. this trepidation. there wasn’t the man who used to be your brother holding you away from the lines that could be crossed because the lines hadn’t been there.

now, when you nod, he situates you easily. part strength, part evol. he places you mid-thigh, moves his legs closer together to give you more of a seat. brings your arms up to wrap around his neck, hands smoothing up your forearms and leaving nothing but heat in their wake. “better?” he asks. 

you want to be closer. your throat burns with something you don’t want to name. he wears the same cologne he started wearing his first year at the daa, the one that you got him for his birthday. light and clean and after a while it became so intrinsic to the thought of him that you bought a second bottle to spray on your pillows when he was away from home. you often thought about burying your nose against his neck just to smell, just to take in as much of him as you could. 

and what’s he going to do to stop you? it seems like you’re both incapable of addressing this terrible thing that sits between you—this half-truth, this accident. you tilt your head up, nose brushing the underside of his jaw. he inhales sharply, begins to turn towards you in askance, but you hold his chin with your thumb. tilt his head so you have better access to his neck.

he lets you, because he always lets you have whatever you want. spoiled. you breathe in deeply and you can smell his pulse, his fear, his sweat. you feel the way he swallows against the skin between your nose and your lips.

this isn’t close enough. you move to straddle him—your legs bracket his, your face buried in the skin of his neck, cheeks burning hot against his skin. you breathe in deep and it’s still not enough. you need him inside you in a way that doesn’t make sense. not sex—something deeper. you want the air in his lungs to be in yours. you want his blood to pump through your body, keep you alive. you want his scent beneath your skin, trapped, only for you. your nails scratch across the hair at the nape of his neck. 

his hands go to your hips like instinct, like magnetism. his touch is the difference between temporary and permanent. or it could be. “wait,” he says, voice a rasp, a scrap of something ruined. “wait.”

“what?” you ask. what you really want to ask is should i not be doing this? you shouldn’t. you shouldn’t and you know this and there are many reasons why. 

your lips drag across his neck when you speak and he groans, a deep noise punched out of him, his fingers digging deeper into your skin. he had to do sensitivity training when he got the metal arm, he told you when you had discovered him doing repairs, when you added another secret he was keeping to the growing pile. another piece of the boy you knew lost to you forever. he had to train himself to hold pieces of fruit without bruising the skin. how easily he could bruise yours. “pip-squeak,” he says, chastising—playing at brother, playing at something he can no longer be. “what are you doing?”

he’s already hard, stiff against your thigh. this is not a position he should be in if he wants to play house with you still, play at family even though he told you all those years ago that he doesn’t see you like that. he knows what you’re doing. you know what you’re doing. you take the lobe of his ear in between your teeth and he pulls you against him like he can't stop himself, hips rolling to find friction, a moan building in his chest. an automatic response, a base need. the feeling of him hard between your legs makes you want to pry your own skin off with need.

“i can’t—” he starts, pushing you away again. scrambling to be a better man. holds you just so, makes sure your bodies aren’t flush. he’s never been able to fully remove you—just keep you at a distance, somewhere he can control your comings and goings. his fingers graze your wrist, then trap it easily. you let it happen because you want to. he pulls your hand from his face, frees himself, forces you to remove yourself from hiding and look at him. you can barely look him in the eye—too afraid of what you see in his gaze. something like desire atop the usual reverence. he brings his captured prize close to his lips, his breath warm against your palm. “i don’t wanna make assumptions.”

laughable. this is past assumptions. but you understand. an accident. it doesn’t count. there are excuses, even now, you could use to get out of this. “if you were going to make one,” you ask, “what would it be?”

he smiles, that terrible little grin that got him into so much trouble as a kid, but it’s a facsimile. a performance. something he’s gotten better at since he died—but you know him too well. he looks at your palm like he wants to lay his face there, nuzzle into your warmth. you want to tame him like a dog. you want to be the only person that knows him for the rest of his life. “it’d be one that’d change things,” he says, a little more serious. not cold. still caring—just a warning. this is a point of no return. this is something I can’t come back from.

“as if things haven’t already changed,” you say, and you sound bitter because you are. because you’re not just talking about him between your legs, beneath you. 

you know him too well. his expression falters. he’s worried that you’re being self-destructive, that you're not doing this because you want to. you can see it on his face—the muted hope turning into concern, the desire banking its flames because there’s another problem to deal with, another emotion he has to fix for you. this is when you failed an exam at the hunter academy and told him you wanted to drop out. this is you catastrophizing, making the worst of a problem because if it already hurts, it might as well hurt more.

before he can put a true end to this, you say, “there was a point where you saw me as your sister.”

he swallows hard. his cock twitches against your thigh but you have to ignore that for your own sanity. “not now.”

you consider your next words very carefully. realize you shouldn't say them. “you’re the only person i ever think about when i touch myself.”

his breath stills. he says your name, quiet, like that’s going to stop you.

you’re punishing him. you’re punishing yourself. if you were a better person, you’d tell him you love him instead of telling him this. “if i’m not thinking about you, i can’t...” the word feels dirty. something you shouldn’t say in front of caleb, even though in your fantasies, he’s the one that makes you cum with his fingers, his tongue, then tells you how much he loves you after. he’s the one that fucks you like it’s the thing he was made to do.

he lets go of your wrist, runs a shaky hand down his face. breathes out through his nose in a way that sounds pained. “why are you doing this?”

“you always told me that i should tell my big brother the truth.” it’s the worst thing you could have said and it shows. he looks so guilty that you almost feel bad for him. but there are other things he should feel more guilty for, arguably worse than this. for you—for his punishment—this can be enough. “did you change your mind?”

he stares at you for a long moment, obviously warring with himself inside his head. the choice: to give in or to push you away. one of those would be the right thing, and one of those is what he wants. are you his sister or not? are you more than that, or less?

that question you can answer. more, always. because it’s the same for you. he’s always been more, the center of your universe. you gladly fell into his orbit long ago, and there’s nothing he could do that would make you want to leave.

his chest rises and falls rapidly beneath his sleeveless shirt. his arms tense as he reaches for you, then stops himself. “it feels like you’re doing this because you hate me.”

so he’s caught on to the fact that this is punishment, partially. “i could never hate you,” you say. “didn’t you tell me that, too?”

“when’d you get so mean, huh?” he asks. “where’s that pretty girl i grew up with?”

you sulk a little. tactical. “do you not think i’m pretty now?”

“‘course i do,” he says, giving in to what he wants, trailing long fingers up the side of your neck, spreading out his hand to hold your jaw. “still the prettiest girl in the world.” he’s looking at your lips, your chin in his hand, his words so quiet it’s almost as if they’re not for you. 

“do you do the same?”

“hmm?” he asks, still distracted by the tips of his fingers and their proximity to your lips. what could be: his thumb on your tongue. an accident. or not, anymore.

“do you think about me when you make yourself cum?”

a deep groan, this time. his hand moving to hold you in place by the back of your neck, his forehead against yours. the way he used to check your temperature when you were sick. he always takes care of you. he squeezes, and you think of the bruised skin of a fruit, you think of just how much pain you’d have to inflict for him to feel it. “if we do this,” he says, “i’m yours for good.”

yours for good. “i thought you already were?”

he looks up at you, laughs breathlessly. shocked, maybe, by your claim. amused by it. but not contesting it. “i really did spoil you too much when you were little, didn’t i?”

he did. you reach between your bodies, tugging at the tag of the necklace you’d gifted him when he graduated high school and regifted him when he came back from the dead. he knows what you want. you’re synonyms again, even if briefly. your desires run parallel.

he kisses you like he’s done it a million times, like it’s familiar. his mouth warm against yours, his body yielding under your touch, and you let out a noise that feels like mourning. there’s something lost in this moment even as there’s something gained. 

he pulls you to him closer, like he’s trying to make up for the loss. his tongue slides across yours, warm and careful despite his harsh grip on you. you part so he can pull at the hem of your shirt, and wordlessly you take it off, request the same of him. 

there’s a period of time he just spends looking at you, gaze hazy, fingers trailing up your sides. it’d feel like scrutiny if you didn’t understand it so well—finally seeing the real thing when you’ve imagined it so many times. it takes a moment for fantasy and reality to click, for you to realize that you’re not dreaming.

“i'm gonna move us, okay?” it’s now that he cracks, that he realizes he doesn’t want to have you on his couch. he’s always been like this—traditional in some ways, odd in others. your first time is going to be in his bed, you think, because that’s where first times are supposed to be. 

and you’re right—he carries you to his bedroom, mechanical arm looped underneath your legs. he has the skin graft on. you hate that there’s a new part of him that’s hidden to you, that you don’t know as well as the rest of him.

when he lays you down on his cool sheets, lays himself between your legs, intent on kissing you again, you stop him. a finger against his lips. he looks down at you, a little frantic. “you wanna stop?” he asks. his tone implies that this would be okay. his body language does not. if you wanted to stop, he’d let you—but he would never let you uncross the line of touching him the way you have. you can hear the fear in his voice. the worry that you’ll ask for things to go back to normal and for the first time in his life, he won’t be able to give you what you want.

you shake your head. relief makes the lines of his body soften, makes him take the hand you still have proffered to him and softly kiss each knuckle one by one. you use his sudden pliability to grab his hand, pull it closer to your face. you inspect the grafted skin closely, pretend it doesn’t make you insane that he can’t feel the touch. it alarms you how faithful it is to the original, even though you’re assuming there wasn’t much of caleb’s arm left to replace after the explosion. he has a scar on his ring finger from knocking a boy’s tooth out after he tried to touch you inappropriately on the playground at school. it’s still there, smooth and pearlescent. you kiss it and wonder if he remembers.

“something's on your mind. you gonna tell me what it is?” he asks. kisses you light and reassuring. confident, like this is something routine from the entire time he’s known you. you wonder if it’s the same for him: you imagine having something so often that when it's finally yours, it’s easy to forget that there was a point where it wasn’t.

“i don’t want you to belong to anyone but me,” you tell him. it’s the tamest of what you could say. you’re worried you’ll scare him with the intensity of your thoughts, with the need you feel for him. 

“thought we covered that,” he says. yours for good. he sports that boyish grin that you could never capture in photos because his whole heart is only in the expression when he’s looking you in the eyes. it makes you feel like an animal in heat and like you’re saying goodbye to a loved one for good. two opposites shoved inside the same feeling, forced to become synonyms.

you make him undress entirely, your breath nearly petering out when you see him fully, his body a trained weapon. he's so hard for you that it looks painful, that he shudders and grabs your wrist when you try to slide your palm against him. "not yet," he tells you, lightly snaps the strap of your bra. when you undress you keep your panties on. you didn’t wear anything special for him—didn’t think being with caleb like this would be in the realm of possibility, even though everything has been leading here for weeks—but he still short-circuits at the sight of you in very regular underwear. stares for too long before pulling at the elastic with his long fingers, eyes fluttering closed, breath coming quick. “god… look at you.” his fingers dip into the waistband, tug a little harder.

“not yet,” you say. copying him, like you used to when you were younger. bat your eyelashes at him when he gives you an exasperated look. he laughs like he’s not at the edge of his patience, laughs like your commands are amusing to him, but silently complies. he slots himself between your legs, ruts against you, kisses you messier and messier. your underwear is ruined by his precum and your arousal, the fabric so slick that it’s almost like you’re feeling him skin-to-skin. almost, but not quite. the noises he makes go from composed to completely unrestrained. you’re making him wait longer than you should, maybe. 

“what if i told you to cum like this?” you ask, legs tightening around him.

he makes a defeated noise, a plea devoid of words. “you have to let me cum inside you.”

“i have to?” you ask, teasing. then, a little pouty: “you’d say no?”

he pulls away from you and groans, and in his eyes are you’re killing me here and i can’t believe we’re doing this and clearer than that i need you, i need you however i can have you. “no,” he says after a moment. “no, i’d do it, but—give me something. let me eat you out, at least. please.”

you relent. maybe you’re too easy to persuade. but you think, in all honesty, that you’re just as bad at saying no to him as he is to you. you pull him back between your legs, drag his hand as if commanding him. you use his fingers to slip your panties to the side. “i just wanted to hear you say you’d do it.”

when he touches you fully for the first time, his skin meeting wet heat, the noise that comes from his chest is indecent, fully broken. “oh… fuck,” he says, and like he can’t stop himself, there’s a long finger inside of you, curling, and then two. he sits back to watch, to see where he disappears inside of you, and you want more than just this.

“caleb,” you say, and he should know what you mean because he always does. the different tones of his name—whether you want him to do something for you, or stop what he’s doing, or do something different entirely—it’s a language. even with this new element to your relationship, the basics haven’t changed.

he knows this. he understands. he smiles, wide and wicked. “what?”

“you know what.”

“yeah, i know what.” his focus is unbroken. he’s always been intense about the things he thinks are important. “i’m gonna make you cum first, and then you can have what you want. sound good?”

you would respond but his thumb finds your clit and he works you like he’s always known what your body wants. maybe he has. maybe it’s automatic, a knowledge deep in his cells from all the time you’ve spent together. 

he looks so smug you could stop everything right now just to wipe that look off his face. you could give him everything he ever wanted just to keep seeing it. there’s a deep thrum within your body that’s just his name over and over again, like he’s the blood pumping through you, like he’s the only thing you need to stay alive. 

“wait,” you say, and at first he doesn’t but when he realizes you’re serious, he stills, concern putting a crease between his brows. but you’re fine with his plan. you just want something. “keep kissing me?”

“needy,” he chides, but his expression softens. less cocky, more reverent. he keeps a slow pace until you need it faster, keeps his fingers pumping inside of you until you tighten around them so much that he can’t move them anymore, until every breath feels like a moan. and the whole time his lips on yours, the kisses much too chaste for what he’s currently doing to you. so careful, so loving. 

when you finish on his fingers he chuckles, presses an open mouth kiss to your neck that has your thighs clenching around his arm with a force that makes you scared you could snap bones. 

“no way in hell were you gonna get me off first,” he says into your neck.

“it wasn’t a competition,” you say.

“it kinda was,” he says. kisses the flutter of your pulse, teeth so close to your skin that it’s all you can think about. he pulls off your final piece of clothing, fingers still wet, tracing your own slick across your skin. “and i won. so i’m gonna help myself to my reward now.”

it makes sense that your first time with him is in missionary because that’s how you’ve always imagined it. you want to see his eyes, his face, the way his jaw clenches when he fills you entirely. the only thing that's different from your fantasies: it’s unspoken the way you both need to be making unbroken eye contact as he slides in. as he stretches you much farther than his fingers did. 

you keen like a dog when he bottoms out, and he looks bereft of belief. laughs, breathy, like this is something easy to brush off, like this isn’t him inside of you for the first time, and then gets very serious, quiets, because there’s no way to minimize this moment. you’re connected in one of the deepest ways you can be. he barely breathes. he doesn’t stop looking you in the eye, a connection so intense that you can almost feel it more than him physically within you. 

he can’t keep it up when he begins to move. he brings you forehead to forehead, one hand holding himself up and the other gripping the head of the bed frame—the mechanical hand, because you hear the groan of twisting metal, and you think of skin bruising, you think of how easily he could kill you. how easily you could kill him. because he’d let you, if you tried. if you really wanted him dead.

“i don’t understand what you do to me,” he pants. you wonder if he misspoke or if he really doesn’t understand what it is you do to him, why he feels the way he does. his thrusts grow increasingly frantic, hips sloppy in their movements. “thought about this—so much," he tells you, and you know he's telling the truth by the way his voice breaks on the words.

the thought of him being with someone other than you crosses your mind and you feel pain so sharp you could die. you dig your teeth into his shoulder because you want to mark him. you want to mark him so deep that it’s retroactive, that anyone that might have seen him like this before you knows that he was always destined to end up yours.

he whines, pitchy, a hand—flesh and blood, the one he can feel you with—pushing your thighs up higher, spreading you out to infinite ends. “that’s good, baby,” he murmurs—about the bite, you think. he tries to pull you closer, as if you could get closer than this. you feel him in your throat, he’s so deep. “love you,” he whispers, quiet like he didn’t mean to say it, but he repeats it again, and again, and again.

and you love him so much. you love him so much you could burst with it. you hate that he left you and you hate that he’s different now and you hate that there are parts of him you don’t know entirely, that you didn’t help create. you cradle his head, let him whisper into your ear, press a kiss to his hairline between shaky breaths. 

“not gonna last,” he bites out, voice tight. “can you... please, one more time for me?”

it’s easy with the pressure that’s building within you. his hand moves between you, messy, thumb pawing at your clit with little to no rhythm. confident but clearly inexperienced. it doesn’t matter—it’s him, caleb, and you’ve wanted him like this for so long that even that small touch is enough to push you over, to have your muscles tensing and collapsing and folding in on themselves. you curl around him like you’re never going to let him go. 

his hips snap to yours once, twice more before he spills inside of you, your name spoken over and over again. a mantra. an accident. it didn’t count.

but this counted. this wasn’t an accident. this was everything you wanted since the first time you saw him as more than a brother, more than the boy you grew up with. his cum inside of you and his spit in your mouth and your name on his lips. his skin wedged underneath your fingernails as you leave whatever marks you can. undeniable proof that you were here, that you were his, that he was yours.

he lies against you—holding himself up, maybe, so he doesn’t crush you with his weight. but you want all of it. you want to feel all of him always. you lay in silence for a minute before either of you have the strength to move. you card your nails through his hair and he hums into your neck, then rolls you, uses his strength instead of his evol to carefully place you at his side. you slide your arm across his perfect chest, curl a thigh and slot your calf between his. now that you’ve been that close, it’s impossible to remove yourself.

loudly, he hums again, satisfied. you'd be annoyed with him if the sound didn't put such warmth in your chest. he plays with the ends of your hair, kisses the top of your head. “so… are you gonna patch up my injuries or do i have to call a medical team?”

you snort, smacking his chest. still flushed, so pretty in the dim light of the bedroom. “i didn’t do anything that bad.”

“i dunno, you bit me pretty hard." he plays at massaging his shoulder, and for a moment you worry. but even if you did hurt him—even if you drew blood—you think he wouldn't mind. "if it scars I’m gonna have to think of something to tell people when they ask me about it.”

“just tell them it was me,” you say. you’re only half joking.

“you wouldn’t believe how I got this,” he says to an imagined crowd. “my girlfriend’s got chompers like you’ve never seen.”

he can’t see your face, but you bite your lip—hide the magnitude of your smile. press your heated face into his chest and enjoy the way his drying sweat feels against your skin. “someone should take her in for scientific study,” you respond. an unspoken answer to his unspoken question. “put her in a museum.”

“nah, you can’t spend all your time being studied. you’ve got more important places to be.”

“my job?” you ask. “protecting linkon?”

“hmm…” he pretends to think about it, rubs his chin against the top of your head. musses up your hair on purpose to make you laugh. like when you were younger and would sleep huddled up next to him after a nightmare, but so much different. “no. here with me.”

you sigh, dramatic, as if that’s not the only place you ever want to be. “guess i’ll have to disappoint the greater scientific community.”

“i’d keep you here with me forever if i could.” his playfulness is suddenly gone. the words are full of longing, the kind that feels sticky, the kind where you know you can never truly have everything you want but you’ll take what you can get.

there are so many things that would make this impossible—not just the impracticality, but the pieces of your lives. the outside forces driving a wedge between the two of you. the secrets, the things that have changed, the things that have stayed too much the same. and yet, if things were simpler, you could want that. just to be his implicitly, and him yours, and nothing else. only existing to each other. synonyms, almost—something closer than that. one word with two slightly different meanings. in minutiae, the same.

there’s no way to truly put this into words for him. “forever could be negotiated,” you say, and hope that some fraction of what you feel is expressed in the words. you want to keep him in a way that’s impossible. you want to hold him in your mouth like a secret, in your body like a breath.

he’s quiet for a while. holding you, feeling your permanence. “you can say you love me back, you know. i won’t even tease you for it.”

and you remember the way he whispered love you, i love you, fuck, i’m so in love with you into your ear and feel guilty for not saying it then, for making him wait. but the words are heavy. trapped. it’s difficult to say a secret aloud after you’ve kept it for so much time, despite the fact that it’s already been revealed.

you prop yourself up on an arm, take his face in your hands. he doesn’t look as confident as his words sounded. there’s a hesitance in his gaze, a fear that even now you would reject him. even now you would ask to return to the way things were before, that you would expect him to swallow his feelings—or worse, that you would leave because he couldn’t. 

“i’d live inside you if you'd let me,” you say, because somehow this is easier. and he understands—pulls you towards him for a kiss, like he’s telling you it’s okay, for now this is enough. but it’s easier with your eyes closed, with his hand cradling your face, when you can feel his proximity but you don’t have to look. “i love you.”

he smiles when you kiss him again. grins so wide he can hardly kiss you back. smug, content, entirely too pleased with this situation. it annoys you how much you adore the cocky side of him, the side that can allow itself to be overconfident in retrospect. now that you’ve said the feelings out loud, he can tell you how obvious it’s always been that you’re head over heels for him.

he opens his mouth to say some smart comment and you have to put your finger against his lips to preemptively quiet him. “you said no teasing.”

“i don’t remember that.”

“then you have a terrible memory.”

he kisses your finger, amused at your insistence on quieting him. “you know that’s not true. i’m gonna remember every detail of today. and at our wedding, everyone is gonna hear the story about how you finally told me you love me after years of pining—”

“you’re projecting,” you say, “but i'll let you tell your little story.”

his cheeks are rosy, flushed. maybe because you hit a nerve he left wide open for you, or maybe because you weren’t phased at all by his choice of words—another quiet presumption, another quiet acquiescence. “i’m still waiting for medical attention, in case you forgot.”

“can i kiss it better, or are you actually going to make me go get your first aid kit?”

he pretends to think about it. tries to hide his smile and fails. you love him so wholly that you could die from it. “there’ve been some crazy strides in modern medicine recently,” he tells you, mock-serious. “that first option might just work. i’m putting my life in your hands, doc.”

you kiss the mark you left on him and you think: i’d keep you here forever if i could. one word, the same definition. you’ll run parallel to him until there’s nothing left. 

[thefourthwifeoftengenuzui]

some headcanons about dating timeskip!Kenma please!!

thank you Anon, I would absolutely love to share some stuff about this beautiful boy~ As always, feel free to send any other requests you got, I’ll be more than happy to share my thoughts~

status: unedited

word count: 1.4k (damn that’s the most I’ve written in a hot minute)

warnings: cursing, pure fluff, mentions of weed, crackfick a little suggestive? Idk man I’m sleepy

wrote this instead of studying for my physics final exam😋

🩵Aged Up Kenma Headcannons🩵~

Ok first off we gotta get the basic facts down. This boy may be sweet as sugar, but he’s also one lazy mother fucker. And For the most part, I’d say that he really doesn’t change much from when he was a kid. The most I can say about him, is he definitely is a lot more confident being in front of people, ( I mean that’s kinda his job now, but bear with me) and has become less awkward around people. Very different from when he first met Hinata, he can actually hold a good and relaxed conversation now. That’s not to say he isn’t introverted anymore, (he definitely still would rather be at home) but he is more confident in himself to be able to actually be able to engage with someone. Is he gonna go out of his way to talk to someone? Hell no, but he can at least handle being approached without overthinking and triggering his anxiety.

This definitely also translates to his relationship with you. You still will have be the one who makes the first move, or at least initiating conversations.

But one things for sure, once he likes you, he loves you. Like wanting to wife you up regardless of gender. And I feel like, (later on in the relationship ofc) if you ever had kids, he would be the best most present dad ever. Like he wouldn’t be a house husband, (his YouTube gig is completely paying for your mortgage) but because the majority of what he does has him, stream for like an hour, go on call for a few minutes, or just edit his videos for a bit, he would be able to make a lot of time for any and all children he has. But that’s way later on in the relationship.

Once he’s comfortable in the relationship with you, I can definitely see him involving you in his content. Not like a whole boyfriend and girlfriend couples channel, but like a once a year “reacting to fucked up shit with my girl” type beat.

And since we’re on the subject of content, <<<<<<<<

Like imagine having the most shitty day possible and you come home to your boyfriend streaming COD or some shit. You just face-plant into the bed next to him and he snaps his head towards you.

”shit baby you good?” he asks as he raises an eyebrow, looking at you concerned as you mumble angrily. He recognizes the nonverbal gestures and just pats his lap with a quick, “c’mere baby,” and hugs you, letting you muzzle your face into his neck away from the camera, and wrapping a fluffy blanket around you, before he kisses you head and say, “gimme ten more minutes to finish this and we’ll order some takeout k?”. He gives you the most sincere and adorable smile ever sending butterflies not only to you, but all his fans watching, as he smiles and goes back to playing like nothing happened, the chat going wilddddddd. (My gay ass heart go brrrrrr)

I know for a fact that somewhere out there in haikyuu internet, there is a corny ass edit of y’all doing that shit, trust. (I need to keep my slang outta here man 😭)

ok, getting off the sidetrack, kenma is still like rlly introverted. Like his ideal date is just sitting at home watching some cheesy studio ghibi movie (His favorite is the boy and the heron, fight me on that, it’s the hill I’m willing to die on.)

If not some cute Disney movie, I also feel like he’d be into like some mystery or like not quite horoscope stuff. Like I feel like he would really be into Wednesday. If he had to watch an actual horror movie, I feel like I’d be like some of the older ones like scream or Nightmare on elm street type shit.

Speaking of scream, I feel like at least once yall would have to do the ghostface couples costume thing. Like I feel like this would just suit him so well. Idk my brains just going feral on it right now. (This was supposed to have a link attached, but it kept fuckin up and I’m to lazy to deal with it so just look it up, the couples version, it’s hot af)

aside from the specific stuff that I know people hate reading, the next thing you gotta know about this version of kenma is he is a TEASE. Like not even like an NSFW type tease. Just like a “he’s an ass but I love him.” Like when he was younger I feel like he was too nervous and flustered to point that kinda stuff out. But now? Man is a menace and a half. The type of dude to be like, “I have no idea how your ass fits in those shorts. Oh no, you’re not taken them off now~” or like the most basic annoying shit like bro fuck off and let me cuddle you in peace without being annoying. Like, he’d be like, “ damn someone’s neady today~ you tryna fuck me in front of everyone?” Like bro stfu I’m just tryna cuddle. Either that or he’d call you clingy for returning the affection he initiated. Like bro, quit being a lil bitch and let me be happy you butt muffin.

Man is putting full pussy into annoying you. He’s the type of guy to call you the most vile, disgusting, cringe ass nicknames, specifically to piss you off. You need him to take out the trash? “Yes my Pookie Wookie McSmoo Moo bear~” *gags while writing this* You’re yelling at him for some stupid thing, “I sorry my sugar booger~.”

Yeah this part is real OOC, and I was gonna write more but I physically cannot bring myself to do it so anyway, his other 3 favorite things to annoy you by calling you is, Cutesie Poopsie, Shnookums, and side piece #2. (Bro I just gave myself the ick)

Beige flags aside, he does have some green ones . For example, he’s a fabulous listener. Like, you just wanna rant and yell about your day? C’mere babes, he already got fluffy blankets, stuffies, and fluffy socks at the ready. You just wanna cry in piece? Looks like his lap has a vacant spot, he can play games and scratch your head at the same time. #bbgtreatment (regardless of gender. If tumblr has taught me anything it’s that nobody is to thug to be bbg, can I get an amen?🙏 )

The more comfortable he is with you, the more he will make jokes, but in the most monotone voice ever. Like you could be ranting to your bestie on the phone like, “I forgot my umbrella at work… yeah I’m soaked,” and you just hear him from his corner calmly shouting “that’s what she said,” not even turning away from his game, as if it was natural to him. It’s always so easy to talk with him, unless it’s about his problems, but we ain’t gon talk about that rn, I’m feeling too fluffy.

There is one thing that I absolutely have to address for this man though. The average female height in my country is 5’4. And Kenma is only 5’6. Chances are, he’s not gonna be towering over you or nothing. Especially if you a tall specimen like me. (AFAB but gender is a construct yolo on those hoes). So chances are, this mf is for a fact, stealing your clothes. No article of clothing is safe. Hoodie? Sorry boo he got cold streaming. T-shirt? None of his were clean. Miniskirt? Onlyfans- He was pulling a Gojo sorry 😋

Tbh I don’t see him ever really having a wedding, or really ever getting married. Too much social interaction and attention on him. Gross. The most I can see him doing is, one night while y’all smoking pot or something, being like “yo wanna get married?” He wants to be with you forever without the government getting involved, but hey, times are tough, and marriage helps with tax returns. So y’all just kinda go to the courthouse, get it done, then fly off to some place to elope.

in all Kenma is just a great loyal guy, who is the biggest pain in your ass, but the biggest cutie patootie this side of the nuthouse.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ hope y’all enjoyed, this was so fun to write, if you liked this and want more content like this make sure to request and check out my other stuff. Love y’all bastards, Thots and Enby Hots🩵

[mirapril]

Hi, I would like some Castlevania headcanons please! About Alucard having a younger sibling but the sibling is still a child :D

OMGGG MY FIRST REQUEST!!! Ty sm for the request <3

so sorry I didn't see it until now 😭

since gender wasn't specified ill make reader gn

also this is my first time writing headcanons so I hope this is good enough😭

Feel free to give me any feedback or constructive criticism <3

Alucard x child!sibling!gn!reader Headcanons

fluffy brother/little sibling stuff

word count: 557

warnings: none, a little bit angsty at the end

When BigBrother!Alucard met you for the first time he swore on his life that he'd always protect you no matter what. no man nor beast will ever be able to harm you. not while he was around

While your mother was treating people of the village and your father was down in his lab researching, your big brother would play with you to keep you from causing any trouble

You’d play things like hide and seek together, which wasn’t really fair since he was as way more experienced with his powers than you are at your young age :(

"Adrian, this isn't fair! you're way older and faster than me!"

"You're the one who said you wanted to have a race y/n. You'll never get faster if you don't try you know."

When I say he’d do anything for you I mean it

He’d especially get into trouble with his father for you

On one occasion he had taken one of your fathers “pretty” science tubes but ended up knocking something important onto some also very important blueprints

Your father kept a very close eye on you both when you were around his lab after that

BigBrother!Alucard is also in charge of making sure you don’t get yourself lost in the woods around your home

You’d purposefully leave the house without telling anyone just so your older brother would have to find you

You loved when he had to chase you around big trees and across wide ponds with rocks surrounding them

Of course, he could easily catch you but usually he’d let you have your fun

He did have mini heart attacks whenever you’d run too fast around the steep and slippery rocks

His main worry was you falling and hitting your head on a rock or falling into the river

"Y/n! Watch where you're running! You don't want to run into another tree do you?"

Also BigBrother!Alucard is basically your tutor

Your parents taught you too, but you preferred your brother's teachings because he made lessons more fun for you

There was a time when your whole family went on one of your fathers' trips since he loved to travel so much

You got to see all sorts of sights together :)

For obvious reasons, your family didn't get out much, so it was a nice change of scenery for the four of you

After the death of your mother and father Alucard was the only one you had left

Alucard was worried about how your little brain was going to process such a loss, but he did his best to comfort you

It was hard for him to act like not only a brother, but a mother and father for you

You were very much brighter than most children at your age so you saw how much it was taking a toll on your brother

You tried to comfort him the best you could

"Don't worry Adrian. I don't feel so lonely because you look so much like mama! It's like I have you and her in one person :)"

He usually just laughed it off when you said strange things like that

He was also sad that you were literally growing up way faster than regular children should

He missed when you were small enough for him to cradle you in one arm

i got sad at the end cuz i was listening to music and i thought about reader and alucard growing up together :(

[anystalker707]

Do I have a chance?

Pairing: Portgas D. Ace x [gender neutral] Reader Words: ~ 1 600 Summary: Ace is just trying to get you to like him. Tags: he's so. ace. / Marco just sits back and eats popcorn while watching it happen

Requested by anon [Hi! Could I request male reader X Ace where Ace is nice and adorable with everyone except reader? Ace is not toxic or mean to Reader, he just acts more serious and tough around him (...)]

MASTERLIST

          Your eyes observed Ace in the distance as he talked with the others. He would often giggle, showing that wide smile that made your heart flutter as he opened that wide smile. Sometimes he would joke about something, playing offended and being way too dramatic, and it was also way too cute when he randomly fell asleep. Only you knew how hard it was not to just reach out and ruffle his hair, play with his messy black strands, maybe squish his cheeks together, and kiss all over his freckles…

All of it was to be appreciated just by far, though. Marco and the others were so lucky.

“Ah, hey, (y/n),” Ace mumbled with a light wave as he approached when you sat at one of the tables on Moby Dick’s with a book in hand. “I was wondering, could you help me with some bandages? It’s kinda tricky to clean the wounds.” He pointed to the bandage on his shoulder. He didn’t smile. Okay. It was so awkward when Ace did that. It felt like he was annoyed by you.

“Sure.” You grabbed the marker and slipped it into the book before closing it. His eyes glanced down at it.

“What book is that?” Ace blinked as he observed you set it aside.

You raised an eyebrow, looking at it for a moment, and hummed. “Ah, it’s just something I grabbed from Marco.” You took the book while standing up, observing the cover for a moment. Ace always asked you about the stuff you read or watched, so you just told him about it before he asked. “It’s about a king who searches for the fragments of his dead wife’s soul. He’s the main character, along with a guy and a girl. This other guy is so cool. He’s stoic, y’know, all serious and tough. Very cool character. The king is way too dramatic.”

Despite your grin, Ace only raised an eyebrow in brief interest and nodded with a hum. “Oh, great. Sounds cool.”

Why did he always make things awkward?

You nodded with a hum. “Either way, I’m going to put it away. Where do you want to change your bandages—”

“Your cabin?” Ace said almost instantly. You blinked a couple of times before slowly nodding, and he exhaled softly. “Then let’s go.”

Ace was terribly quiet during all of that. He was serious, not reacting so much to your jokes and barely keeping the subjects going, so you just opted for silence. If he really disliked you, you didn’t want to keep bothering him. Even so; if he disliked you, why did he insist on always trying to be around you? You’d questioned Marco about that a couple of times, but all he did was scoff and chuckle in response.

You did favors to Ace once in a while, yeah—you two were close crewmates at the beginning—, and that was never the issue, just that he didn’t even thank you this time. Ace just walked out of the cabin before you could finish speaking, leaving his button-up on your bed.

          Ace had sort of told Marco his plans. Marco didn’t agree at all, but he also knew he wouldn’t be able to convince someone with a thick head like Ace, so he didn’t even try too much. Honestly, Marco couldn’t even wonder how you were feeling with all this mess because he would often catch you gazing at Ace with those dreamy eyes.

One of the things that went through Marco’s head was certainly about the amount of functioning brain cells inside Ace’s head. If Ace was too shy to confess to you, maybe he should try some tactic that didn’t involve making you fall for him and confessing to him instead. Or just anything that involved Ace being Ace instead of someone who clearly didn’t please you.

As far as Marco could remember, it started when Ace wanted to find things to talk about with you, and the fact you were around reading a few books made it easy for Ace to figure out two things to chat about: what kind of stuff you liked, and also what your type was, hopefully. Marco could remember Ace ranting to him about how you loved all the serious and Stoic characters from those books, admiring their coolness. It was a matter of time until Ace was changing into that said demeanor whenever around you, but his attempts at being serious honestly just made Marco want to hide due to the second-hand shame. Ace was so stupid. He was like a weird kid.

On the other hand, Marco also wanted to strangle Ace to make him confess to you already. He noticed that most of the crew was dispersed now that you stopped by an island. You were sitting alone at one of the tables on the main deck, reading your book.

“Oi, Ace-yoi,” Marco caught Ace’s attention. “I’m going ahead to the shop, so can you tell (y/n) I’ll already be there?” He didn’t actually wait for Ace to answer before he left, waving back at Ace with his other hand stuck in his pocket.

Damn, Marco. He could’ve at least told Ace something about that before. At the moment, he wasn’t fucking prepared to talk with you. Ace’s mind was racing as he looked back and saw you there, nose buried in that same book from the other day. You were the only one there aside from an occasional pirate that would walk by, which wasn’t even relevant. Marco really hated him, didn’t he?

Ace cleaned his throat and tried to seem cool as he walked over to the area where you were, hands in his pockets. He could do it. He was going to do it so well that maybe you’d confess to him today. The same things went over and over in his mind as he leaned back against the wall, letting his hat cover his face lightly. You probably were sleeping hugging the shirt that he left in your room. He probably looked so cool. He was so cool.

… Well, why didn’t you approach him, then? What was taking you so long?

          You had noticed Ace’s presence there, of course—how could you not? It wasn’t even the first time he saw you after the day you fixed his bandages, but you still wished that Ace would finally come to thank you or ask for his shirt back. Despite having your eyes glued to the page, you weren’t reading a thing. You couldn’t read a thing.

This was already getting on your nerves. Did Ace think he was better than anyone? Did Ace hate you?

Ace jumped when the book was suddenly tossed at him. He gasped as he caught it before it fell to the ground, holding it tightly in his hands.

“What’s wrong with you?” You stood there, pointing at Ace accusingly. He had wide eyes, mouth opening and closing as he tried to say something, but it never came. You groaned, clenching your hands into fists and stepping towards him. “I get it that you don’t like me, but I don’t see the reason you keep hanging around! If I annoy you so much, then just avoid me, and I’ll return the favor!” You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose as you took a moment; the dumbass just stood there tensely, face red. “Look, you could’ve at least acknowledged that I cleaned your wounds and taken your shirt back!”

Ace finally managed to choke something out. “But I don’t hate you!” His voice sounded weaker than he planned. Shit, he was making a fool of himself in front of you again. He groaned, looking at the book and slipping it in his pocket, not knowing what to do with it.

“You don’t have to lie, Ace!”

“I’m not lying!” Ace groaned as he pulled his hat over his face to hide it. “Ahh, I fucked it all up… I’m so sorry, (y/n)!”

A sigh escaped your lips. “Ace, it’s okay, really. You’re not obligated to like me or anything.”

Ace lowered his hat enough to look at you over the brim of it. He stuttered a couple of times but decided to take a pause—he took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment. “Look, I’m so sorry. I actually like you a lot.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, eyeing Ace up and down. “What do you even mean by that? Like me? Ace—”

“I was trying to be like those characters you talk about! From the books, I mean.” Ace sighed in frustration. He adjusted his hat, letting it hang over his back. “I thought you’d like me more if I did it.”

“Ace…” You sighed, burying your face in your hands and then rubbing your temples. Now all the hints that Marco dropped were starting to make sense. “Okay. Terrible choice, actually, because I like it when you’re being yourself.” Ace furrowed his eyebrows, so you nodded more. “I’m always hoping you’ll be silly and playful when you’re around me because it’s so cute.” Your cheeks reddened as you confessed it, but there was no other way to fix things without talking it out, even more after a misunderstanding going on for so long. “Just be yourself, Ace. I actually like you a lot, as well.”

Ace was pouting a little, his cheeks all red. “Can I hug you, (y/n)? Pretty please?”

A chuckle escaped your lips as you felt your face heating up as well. “Yeah, yeah, I—”

He was in your arms before you could finish saying it, hugging you tightly. “I’m sorry, okay? I won’t do it again.”

“Yeah, you better.” You patted his back lightly with a sigh.

“You know,” Ace chuckled a little bit as he pulled back; his cheeks were redder as he looked away. “Do I, y’know, do I have a chance with you now that I’m being the way you like me?”

You raised an eyebrow and slowly grinned wide. “Hmm, I’ll think about it,” you teased a little, kissing his cheek.

.𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟.

[harrypotterfuryroad]

What was your journey with all this? Did you at one point blindly agree and then learn new things that changed your mind (like I did) or were you skeptical from the start?

so i was never all in, but i had plenty of friends that were, and when it first started taking off in my social circles (2013ish) i tried my best to keep up with the lingo and be supportive. after all there's a lot of stuff i know i don't understand and who am i to discredit people's lived experiences? my degrees are all in biology so i never bought into the "humans can change sex actually" line, but if the wishful thinking made someone's life easier then sure fine i guess.

the cracks first started to show for me when nonbinary started popping up as a concept. broadly i understood what it was trying to do, but my two instant questions were "isn't everyone a little masculine and a little feminine?" and "if people are uncomfortable with being sorted into box A or box B, how does building box C help them?" i kept asking (out of genuine curiosity) and no one could give me an answer that made sense. obviously i could rattle off now about how this is because the whole thing is built on stereotypes but i was still trying to smile and nod my way through it at the time

my time in my phd program really solidified things for me for a couple reasons. like obv it overlapped with the general rise to prominence of all of this so it was kinda hard to miss, but also i was in an area with a really strong gay community so i got to see firsthand how it took root and grew from there. i saw a prominent local lesbian activist get ousted from my city's lgbt council for butting heads with a tim, and i saw the gradual shift from gay men being super comfortable playing around with the boundaries of dress and behavior to continuous questioning if someone is "one of the dolls" now because he wore a dress once

but also my phd was specifically about a lot of the issues that pop up in this whole debate, like social stress, adolescent development, sex differences in adulthood, and even a little bit about how social media is replacing normal social interaction but isn't meeting the same needs, so i'm watching all this happen while i'm reading papers from as early as the 70s that are basically predicting these exact patterns (then covid hit and amplified everything i was already seeing)

basically i just got more comfortable recognizing when someone is scientifically illiterate but really good at projecting confidence. i had a couple friends who were on lupron (for its on-label use, not as a puberty blocker) and each one had a terrible time, with really intolerable side effects. i looked into it more and it turns out these side effects are really common, which made me think this is a drug that made it through clinical trials but hadn't really taken off commercially so the company is trying to clean up its image or find a new market for it (something we were trained to notice in my phd program). then the drug started getting touted as safe and reversible for kids, and i just finally let myself feel comfortable getting angry about that. if you're saying this drug is safe, you're either lying or uninformed. lupron is the same story as viagra (where its more well-known use wasn't its initial intended use) but with all the leverage of the biggest social justice movement of the day, and it doesn't take much to recognize that without that clout there's no way to positively spin the junk data it's producing

other things i looked into more where the party line falls apart as soon as you screen out the spin: the trans murder rate, the trans suicide rate, prevalence and mechanisms of DSDs, the impact of adolescent testosterone levels on adult physical performance, neurological correlates of gender identity, and what a chromosome is

[ruukina]

WOLFISH

FANDOM: final fantasy xvi PAIRING: clive rosfield x reader ( gender neutral, afab ) RATING: explicit / 18+. minors dni. SUMMARY: After an exhausting week of running around Valisthea, you return home with your heart full and missing a certain outlaw. What you find upon your return is different... but not unwelcomed. WARNINGS: slightly rough sex, dirty talking, breeding kink, implied heat cycle. WORD COUNT: 7.7k

A/N: yeah i'm fairly down bad for this man. i normally don't write reader fics but i'm trying to expand my horizons so. here we are. gotta feed myself in this economy right?? expect more ffxvi stuff, whether its reader insert or other shit because the brainworms are very bad.

read on ao3!

It’s a silent ride back to Hideaway, as it always is on these solo missions of yours.

It’s not a common thing, but every so often you find yourself having to run around all of Valisthea with the job of making payments and collecting orders from the many kind souls that have been helping the cause that even keeps your personal home afloat. In fact, you could even say as Cid’s personal advisor, this was your main job; Otto was busy running the Hideaway and keeping it in check, so the job fell to you when you weren’t tailing after the man you worked under.

You also didn’t mind it, because it meant you had some time to yourself. You had the wind at your back, the smell of sea water to keep you company, and you could be in your thoughts alone.

Usually you didn’t mind it, at the very least. 

It’s not a long task to do or even a hard one, in fact you’d argue that most of your time spent there is arguing with the likes of Martha and Isabelle and even L’ubor to accept the gil that Cid himself has offered to give them, but this month’s mission of yours was different. It seemed like a certain boss of yours had racked up a few requests and the people he graciously helped either wanted to give him a reward or send a letter to ask for more help. And since you were unfortunately playing messenger, it meant that you were basically running around and doing his job… in the sense of gathering the requests and gifts, of course.

So, you were being a little delayed in returning. You made sure to send a Stolas, to let everyone know you weren’t dead - just incredibly busy.

But now you finally found yourself on the ferry back home and you were impatient to get back. Excited to get back to everyone, excited to finally be returning after about a week of having to travel by Chocobo to get to everywhere.

Excited to return back to him.

“Hey, Obolus, are we almost there yet?” You peer over to the ferryman, the wind wilding through your hair.

Obolus didn’t even look back at you, as he ‘tsks’ in response. “We’ll get there when we get there. Asking every five seconds won’t make the boat go any faster.”

You scrunch your nose at him, but he did unfortunately have a point. The trip usually never feels so long, but after being away for what seems like months, you were just anxious to get back and rest your feet. The silence of the ride passes, with only the sound of waves pressing against the exterior of the boat. 

You lean against the side and take the chance to reflect on all that’s happened. All that you’ve experienced. 

All that you’ve done.

You don’t really remember when you became Cid’s advisor. It’s had to have been years at this point, you remember only barely being what one would call an adult. You were a bearer without a brand, hiding your magic behind crystals. It’s what your father had taught you, to protect you from the cruel world you were born in. You were cursed, your mother refused to even acknowledge your existence - even more so after the death of your father. You only lived the way that you did because your mother loved your father more than she loved you, and made your father take care of you.

Your father never gave up on you. An idealist in a world of realists, he really thought you could be the one to change the world. 

He set himself up for failure, you bitterly had thought when news of his death arrived at your doorstep. He died for a cause he believed in, sure, but now he expected you to carry on that torch for him. And maybe there was a part of you that wanted to fight for a better world than the one you were handed, for those like you. You weren’t really sure what your true feelings were at that time.

There was one thing you did know, however; you knew you weren’t safe in your mother’s care, so you ran the day after your father’s passing and never looked back. You’re not even sure if your mother is even still alive or if she even misses you. Did she start anew, start all over with someone else and have a child she could be proud of?

As the years went on, you found that you didn’t even care. You can’t remember her face anymore.

You were crafty, a trickster, because that’s what kept you alive. Somehow, your paths with Cidolfus Telamon crossed. Not just once or twice, but five times. Four times, you rejected his appraisal and invitation to join him.

On the fifth path crossed, and the day he saved you from death, you finally joined him. You didn’t really expect to stay long in Hideaway, only thinking you would spend a few weeks or even a month before you jumped ship. You never stayed in one place for long, because it was always too dangerous for you to attach yourself to people. But everyone was so kind, so nice to you, and welcomed you with open arms. 

Especially Cidolfus.

You clung to him a lot, maybe because despite only meeting him five times he was the only person you really knew, and somehow you managed to become his advisor with your skills and your ability to pull him back to the ground. Otto was against it at first, not because he didn’t like you, but you were barely an adult. Yet, Cid had smiled and patted you on the shoulder, telling Otto that there was more to you than meets the eye.

It’s much more than what your mother gave you. Worthless, unneeded, dirty, sinful - that’s all that she had called you. Your own father would try and raise your spirits, but her words were sharp as a knife and they cut wounds in your wrists. Weeks turned into months, months turned into years, and you stayed. You stayed with the people who would become your family.

One day, Cid left with Goetz and the wolf he ( or rather, charon ) cared for, because of rumors of Shiva’s Dominant finally rising in a place where he can finally catch her, to give her the freedom she needed. He came back with Goetz carrying a girl on his back, and a branded man with the wolf practically attached to his hip.

Clive Rosfield.

You didn’t realize it at the time, but the man before you would change your life completely.

Cid introduced you to him, asking you to watch over him and help him adjust to the Hideaway. It’s almost funny to think about, because despite Clive’s grumblings about ‘not staying long’ ( words that echoed in your head as familiar, because you had said the same thing ), when you finally got track of him again, he was out helping the people of Hideaway. 

You made a joke about that and he quickly looked away, some colour on his cheeks and the tips of his ears. It was a cute sight, unsightly for a rugged man like him. Despite his appearances, he was kind and soft, albeit a bit cynical from the hardships he faced in his life. Then you ended up helping him help people, because there wasn’t much to do at that time and you needed to stretch your legs, and that’s how Cid decided on his great idea to make Clive your personal assistant.

Clive then realized when Cid told him you ran him ragged, he meant it, because once Cid assigned Clive to you, it didn’t take you long to get him working because as long as someone could move, they could work. But of course, you joined Clive on his journey to help him out. Some days you had to stay at Hideaway but for the most part, you were at his side alongside Cid. 

You and Clive bonded together. Quick whips with one another, long nights together trying to figure out your next course of action with the Mothercrystals and how to save Valisthea, and slowly he became someone you… well, liked, essentially. You don’t exactly make friends with people, because you’ve never really had the chance to do so, but somehow Clive stabbed his way into your life and heart. 

He became softer with you, and you did too. You found it was easy to smile with him, to laugh with him, to love him. It scared you, because Clive was a Dominant - the second, mysterious Eikon of Fire, and yet something so much more than that. It was basically a target on your back, even more so than the relationship you had with Cid.

But you found that you couldn’t stop loving him, that you would endure the burning world for him. Maybe that scared you more.

He held you when you sobbed and broke down over Cid - the first time your mask of being strong ever cracked. You hated it, you hated being weak, because Cid didn’t need weak people helping him. Cid needed someone who could put themselves back together, but this time you couldn’t. The pieces of you were scattered all over the floor like glass and every time you picked one up, you cut your hand and let the blood drip from your wound.

Yet, Clive held you. He held you close, he didn’t judge you, because he was crying alongside you. Cid meant so much to everyone, including him. You sat in his arms, and he didn’t leave until he knew he could leave you alone without worrying over you. His gentleness contrasted his roughened up look, he looked at you so softly and filled with fondness towards you. He was not afraid to help pick up the pieces, even if it meant cutting his hands in the process. 

He put you back together, and he didn’t complain about it. Not even once.

Your relationship with him bloomed. Your friendship with him became something new, something else. It was a dangerous love, because of who Clive Rosfield is - what he is. Yet, you never swayed. You never faltered.

No matter what, he’s Clive to you.

But in public, he is Cid and you are Cid’s advisor - like you always were. You two were professional on the outside, only sneaking away to shed those titles when you had enough time to. You didn’t get those chances a lot, but when you did he made sure to treat you like you were a deity. You’ve had lovers in the past, but they never made you feel like Clive made you feel. He made you feel loved, appreciated, cared for. You took care of him, but he always took care of you in return. He never simply just took, he always gave back.

No wonder you were anxious to get back to him; you’ve missed him dearly.

“We’re approaching the Hideaway!”

The ferryman’s voice pulls you from your thoughts. You open your eyes, quickly looking towards the horizons. Even in the blackest of nights, with the moon being your only light, you could see the shape of the broken down airship that you and everyone else called home. You could feel the smile creeping on your face.

“I’m home,” you whisper.

To who exactly? Not yourself, but to the man who was waiting for you.

You thank Obolus for the ride home as you step off of the boat, quickly rushing up the stairs. Most people had turned in for the night so there were only a few souls still haunting the Hideaway, and they offered their greetings to you and a cheery ‘welcome back, advisor!’, to which you returned with a smile.

You feel a little silly rushing through the halls, like an eager child, but you were happy to be home. 

You were happy about seeing him again.

You skid to a stop when you reached your destination. The Tub and Crown was a bit of a ghost town around this time, but you knew there were still a few people aside from Maeve haunting the area.

And you weren’t wrong. There sat Gav and Jill, with Torgal laying at Jill’s side. The hound lifts his head up at the sound of your footsteps, and once he lays his eyes on you he quickly stands up and rushes over towards you with a happy sounding bark. Since becoming Clive’s partner, Torgal never really left your side either. If he wasn’t with his owner or Jill, he was shuffling at your hip and following you around.

“Torgal!” You greet happily, kneeling on the ground to pet him and spoil him with some treats you carried on hand once you got close enough to where the two sat.

The two break from their conversation to see what Torgal was barking at, both of them greeting you with a smile on their faces.

“Well, if it ain’t our favorite advisor!” Gav slams his drink down. He looks you over, peering at the basket of gifts and requests at your side - all for a certain someone. “Talk about bein’ fashionably late. You weren’t kiddin’ when you said almost everyone in Valisthea was keepin’ you away.”

Jill nods her head in agreement, cupping her own chin to look over the heavy basket. “It sounds like you’ve had quite the adventure yourself.”

“Oh, it was the same ol’ stuff I deal with everyday. Just this time everyone in Valisthea caught wind that Cid’s advisor was in town and decided to make it their problem.” You rub Torgal’s belly, to which the hound accepts with happy pants. 

Speaking of the aforementioned man… You look to the side of Gav. No handsome brooding man there. 

You look to the side of Jill. No handsome brooding man there, either.

“Where is Clive?” You stop petting Torgal for a moment. “I figured he would be hanging out with you.”

Gav rolls his eyes a little, both good naturedly but also in some slight annoyance. “Went right to his chambers to work on things when we got back. He’s been in a bloody mood all week.” The scout holds up a finger. “Scowlin’ more than usual, more antsy than usual, tappin’ his foot while he waits at the door.” Every reason is met with a finger going up. “Not like everyone is afraid of him here, but it felt like we had to walk on eggshells around him. Even Charon was tryin’ not to rib him so hard.”

You blink a little, a brow raised. “Has the missions been going poorly or something?”

“Fuck no,” Gav shakes his head in response. “Everything’s been going smoothly. He’s just been actin’ like a shite.”

“He hasn’t been that bad,” counters Jill. Though, there’s a slight pause of hesitation from her. “But Gav isn’t wrong, he has been in a bit of a mood. More than likely, he was just worried about you.”

Worried about you? It’s not like you can’t handle yourself, and you’ve definitely been on missions longer than a week without him. You can’t help but scrunch your nose in thought - as always, when you’re thinking hard. Something was up with him, clearly.

Jill reads you like a book, with a smile on her face. “He’s still up, last time I checked. He’s burying his nose in reports as to distract himself. I’m sure he’ll appreciate the visit from you.” She stands up from her seat, as Torgal also rolls over and trots back to her side. “I’ve got some work to do with Tarja, but it was nice seeing you tonight.”

You nod your head, standing up and dusting yourself off. “Tarja, huh? Try not to stay up too late with her, alright?” You laugh a little when Shiva’s dominant huffs softly at your teasing, giving you just a gentle nudge in return. The two of you have gotten quite close over the years, and she was supportive of you and Clive. You felt like you could sigh in relief at that, that you didn’t have to worry about Clive’s childhood friend coming after you.

Gav finishes his drink, standing up as well. “I’m turnin’ in for the night.” He pats your shoulder with a grin on his face. “Make sure you give our leader a nice, warm welcome!”

He only grins harder seeing your cheeks turn red like a tomato at the implication of his words, and Jill’s soft laughter only makes you turn ever redder. Ah, there was your punishment for teasing Jill. The three of them make their way out of the alehouse, your eyes following them as you think about your conversation.

He’s in a mood.

What could he be in a mood about? You’ll have to do some digging, which isn’t hard - if there’s one thing Clive is with you that not even a sour mood could change, it’s that he was honest with you. It’s one of his best traits, really, that he’s open with his feelings and doesn’t usually shy away from speaking his mind about certain things. It’s not always easy, because there are some things he keeps to his chest, but for the most part communication is always important between you two. You pick up the basket of gifts and quickly make it to the end of the hall, where Clive’s chambers were.

And well, they were technically your chambers too, you think with the heat growing at your cheeks once more.

Shifting the basket a little, you use your free hand to knock on his chamber doors - once, twice and thrice.

“The door’s unlocked.” Clive’s low voice fills your ears. He already has you sighing and letting out a quivering breath. Founder, you’ve missed him.

You open the door with a smile on your face. You take in the sights before you - his room is as you left it, with the man himself seated at the desk. He seems to be burying himself in his usual reports and paperwork, just as Jill said. He didn’t even lift his head upon you entering.

“Guess who.” You smile, as you close the door behind you.

The sound of your voice has Clive immediately lift his head from his work. Cerulean eyes widened, the quill he was using drops from between his fingers and clattering on the desk.

“You’re back.” He sounds almost breathless. His chest raises a little as he breathes in and out, those cerulean eyes of him looking a lot more puppy-dog than usual.

This was different, indeed.

You walk towards him, placing the basket on the edge of the desk not covered in scattered papers. “Just got back. Gifts for you by the way, I was hunted down by weary souls who wanted to give their thanks to the so-called Cid the Outlaw.” You peer at him with a gentle, loving smile on your face.

He laughs a little in response, a rare smile forming on his own features. “No wonder you’re late. Sorry about that. I’ll be sure to pen my thanks to them soon.”

You shake your head at him. “Oh, don’t even start with the apologies. It’s my job to aid you, it’s kind of in the title.” A pause, shifting your feet a little as you hold your hands behind your back, shyly. “And… you know I’ll do anything for you, Clive.”

The words you whisper made him smile a little more. “You have perfect timing. I’m actually finishing up and I could use your advice.” He nudges his chair back a little, gently patting his thigh. 

For a moment, you stare with a tilted head, until you realize the implications. Your cheeks turn red.

Oh, he’s inviting you to sit there.

Oh, this was different, indeed.

But you don’t hesitate or falter at all. You take a seat on his thigh, leaning against him. One of his strong arms wraps themselves around your waist, pulling your body flushed against his. The position is a little embarrassing, you have to admit to yourself, but it feels warm, comforting - loving. It doesn’t take long for you to fall back into place, flipping through the letters and offering your advice and help to him.

It also doesn’t take long for Clive to stop paying attention. He nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent. His hot breath tickles your skin, a shiver running down your spine, as his fingers draw circles in your hip. His lips ghosts around your skin, pressing the gentlest of kisses to your neck as though he was whispering forbidden words in your skin. The quill from his fingers once again falls onto the desk, the reports forgotten about as his attention shifts to you. It’s hard to focus when he’s like this, so you decide to also forget about the many papers that littered his desktop.

“Jill and Gav told me you were in a mood.” You finally shift the conversation to what was really on your mind.

Clive only offers a grunt at first. “I’m not really in a mood.”

“Are you? You’re acting a little differently tonight.” Your fingers run through his hair, out of his eyes. “What’s on your mind, Clive? You know you can tell me.”

For a moment, he hesitates, but he knows he doesn’t like keeping secrets from you. You know he doesn’t like keeping secrets from you. He pulls you close to him, finally lifting his head to look you in the eye.

“I was fine when you left, but after a day, it felt like there was a pit in my stomach.” Clive runs his fingers up and down your hip. “Hunger, I suppose, is the best way to describe it.”

“Hunger?”

“I felt like I couldn’t focus with you gone. It was worse when I was here alone. Your scent was so much stronger than it usually was…” Clive recounts, averting his gaze for a moment from slight embarrassment, but he quickly focuses back on you. “The more days you were away, the more the hunger grew.”

“And the grouchier you got?” You tease him, though your tease was cut short and replaced with a slight yelp when he pinches your thigh with a huff.

“I wasn’t grouchy.” He counters, but his tone of voice sounds like he’s not exactly fighting the accusation.

You think about what he’s said, though. A hunger he felt for you. It started happening when you first left. He found that your scent was stronger than normal, even when you weren’t there. The symptoms sounded fairly familiar to you, and you hummed a little in thought as you ran your fingers through his hair. He groaned in delight at that, leaning into your touch and burying his face in the crook of your neck once more.

“Maybe you’re going through a rut?”

Clive lifts his head up. “A rut? I’m not a dog, love.”

“I mean, you travel with a dog, you constantly have a permanent puppy-dog eyes look on you and you turn into a dog-lizard thing. You’re kind of dog-adjacent.” You shrug cheekily, with an equally cheeky smile on your face. “But I’m serious about the last thing. We don’t know a whole lot about Ifrit. Maybe it’s going through some kind of rut or something and it’s affecting you. It is springtime, you know. Maybe nature is just setting course for Ifrit, too.”

It’s a pretty plausible theory. Clive stops to think about it for a brief moment, his breath tickling your neck once more as you sigh. Still, he says nothing at first and pauses his movements, until he looks right back up at you, his gaze meeting yours.

“You do realize the implications of your theory, right?” His pupils are blown out, more than usual. His strong, calloused hands grip your hips, shifting you a little so your lower half is flushed right against his.

Oh, there’s something pressing against you. Your body warms up, a heat and ache pooling right in your core. 

You didn’t realize how much you miss his body pressing against yours in such a sinful manner, until he rolls his hips against yours in want and need.

“I meant what I said,” you begin to say, your hands gripping to his shoulders as you slowly grind against the bulge in his pants, meeting his hips’ movements. You couldn’t help but grin a little when he moaned lowly, a sound just for you. “You know I’ll do anything for you, Clive.”

That’s all you’re able to get out at that point, because once you give him permission to do what he needs to do, Clive’s lips press against yours. It was only a sweet, soft kiss for a for seconds at best, because it quickly turned into something fierce, hungry. His tongue prods against your lips, wanting access into your warm mouth, and you gladly part your lips for him, because you need him as much as he needs you. Your tongue presses and swirls against his - it’s a small battle for dominance you never win, but you know he likes a small challenge. His own tongue presses and pins yours, until you ease away to let him completely take the reins.

The kiss is hot, wet, truly sinful. His hands grope everywhere he could, mostly squeezing at your thighs and hips with his fingers digging into your soft, plump flesh until they found their way to your rear. Squeezing and grabbing, groping in such a way that would make you flustered had you not been needy with your own arousal, he lifts you up as though you’re made of nothing but feathers, and truly you’re a little limp in his grasp. Clive’s strength always managed to make you feel dizzy, in a good way, and that doesn’t change here. He pushes his chair back, leaving the desk and the many reports he still has to do in the dust and makes his way towards his bed - your shared bed.

He only breaks the kiss to place you down on the mattress, gentle pants leaving both of your lips as a string of saliva connects the two of you. It breaks as he pulls away a little more, only to dive back in and press fluttering, wet kisses to your neck. Just like the kiss from before, it turns into something a little more hot and brutal; his lips suck at your skin to give it a bruising mark, teeth sinking into your flesh to draw just a little bit of blood from you. You groan hotly, your fingers gripping at his dark locks as your hips jolt upwards. Clive licks and kisses at the bruise and bite mark he left, panting gently against your flesh.

“You still taste so, so good.” Clive whispers into your skin, as his hands tug right at your shirt. He tries his best not to rip it, but unbuttoning your shirt during these kinds of acts was never exactly a cleanful tact, because you can already see a few buttons pop off just from him ripping it open. You chuckle a little; some things really don’t change.

Your chest is bared to him, and Clive wastes no time in pressing gentle kisses on naked skin. Trailing down, he kisses, licks and sucks on any skin he could latch himself onto and sinks teeth into your sink that leaves behind a delicious sting of pain, until finally reaching your left breast. Your breath hitches a little as his tongue swirls around the nub of your nipple, the hitched breath morphing into a needy moan once his lips latch around it to give it a gentle suck. His fingers tease and play with the unattended one, his attacks on you relentless and cruel - cruel in the sense he never slowed down.

“Clive.” you whine with a high-pitched voice, trying your best to roll your hips against his. But he doesn’t let you, pinning you down with just his pelvis. He lifts his head up, a smirk on his face.

“Just lay there and let me make you feel good,” whispers Clive. The way his low voice sounded so commanding, you can’t help but obey him. He was always like this, though; he was always chasing for your pleasure and never his own. He loved you, he wanted to make you feel good. It was never really fair! But at the same time, it truly was nice. He was so different from lovers you had in the past, who only cared about their own needs.

He attends to your other breast, giving it the same treatment - a lick here, a suck there, leaving a trail of bruises and bite marks in his wake. Once he’s satisfied, his lips start to trail downwards. He worships you like this, with his lips and his tongue, making sure there’s a patch of skin with his mark on it. His hands make work of your bottoms, pulling off the offending fabric until you were just left in your undergarments. You expect to feel his fingers on your skin so he can pull them down, but instead when you look down, you see Clive is using his teeth to pull them down.

Oh, this is different. Normally he takes his time with you; press himself against you, kiss you all over. Even as someone who prefers to please his partners more than please himself, it seems like tonight he’s impatient.

“Seems like someone’s been wanting this,” chuckles Clive as he spreads your lower lips a little to inspect you. “You’re already so soaked. All I did was tease you a little. Founder, you’re as depraved as I am.” His hot breath hits your wetness as he speaks, never once pressing his lips against you. You jolt a little at the feeling, a soft huff escaping your lips.

“You started this mess,” You tell him, your fingers already gripping in his hair. “You finish it.”

Another chuckle leaves his lips. Clive is impatient, though, and he wastes no time in pressing his lips right against your dripping entrance. His tongue is relentless here just as it was on your skin; it wastes no time in slipping inside of you, as he starts to drink your essence and fuck you with his tongue alone. It’s almost unbearable to you, in a good way - he drinks like a man starved.

Clive is so good to you, but he knows how to be so cruel, because he knows you enjoy it. He knows how easily you melt on his tongue, and he enjoys every single moment of it.

His fingers slip in as well, two of them pumping in and out as he moves upwards a little, finding your clit. The tip of his tongue flicks at it and you feel the smirk against your entrance as soon as you squeak and moan from his actions. He licks, sucks, his movements becoming faster with each second that passes. You’re trying so hard to swallow back your moans, but the moment his lips wrap around your clit and give it a hard suck, you can’t control your volume anymore. It echoes off of the walls, embarrassingly so, but your mind is so fogged that you don’t seem to care like you usually would.

The knot in your lower stomach painfully tightens, you can feel yourself reaching your peak as Clive continues to tease your clit and thrust his fingers in and out of you. Just as you’re about to find your release, though, he abruptly stops. He pulls himself off of you, his fingers are coated with your essence.

“Clive–” You begin to whine, almost in pain. You stop yourself short when you watch him lick his fingers clean - slowly, like he’s putting on a show for you. Once they’re clean, he looks at you as though he’s a predator who has caught prey in his trap. The slight darkness of the room makes his cerulean eyes have a glow to them. The knot in your stomach returns.

He intends to devour you, his way. He’s going to drag this out, until you’re begging and crying for release.

Clive crawls back onto the bed, his hands moving to undo all of the leathers and fabric of his clothing, until he’s as bare as you are. His cloak and shirt go first, dropping onto the ground until his chest is revealed to you. Greagor, you could probably write several missives about Clive’s chest and muscles, but despite what your lover may say, you’re not that depraved. You keep all of those thoughts to yourself, like a good advisor should. Your eyes drift down with his hands, watching as they fumble a little with his belt, stifling a laugh from how needy and excited he is.

You stop laughing once he finally does undo his belt and pull his pants down, revealing his hard cock to you. You’ve seen it before, it’s been inside of you multiple times now, but you still hitch your breath when you see it. The gods certainly graced Clive with something to brag about, for certain. 

If you ever do meet Ultima maybe you should thank him for giving his vessel something that would make you cross your eyes and forget your own name, but something tells you a narcissistic god obsessed with the purity of his vessel may not appreciate the sonnets a mere mortal would write about said vessel’s cock.

Pre-cum dribbles at the tip, his fingers coated in a mix of his saliva and your juices as he uses it to his advantage to stroke himself a little, to really give you a show now. You hear yourself panting, your chest heaving up and down as you watch the sinful sight before you.

“Enjoying yourself?” Clive smirks, smugness in his voice.

You huff a little in response. “I’ll only enjoy myself when you actually fuck me instead of showing off, Rosfield.”

He laughs a little, leaning down to kiss your forehead sweetly. “As my faithful advisor commands.”

You have no time to respond, as he quickly flips you so you’re on your stomach, face slightly pressed against the pillow beneath you. He presses his front against your back, the tip of his cock pressing against your wet folds teasingly. Your needy whine and rear thrusting back to try and get him inside of you earns a laugh from him, but thankfully he’s not intensely cruel tonight. He presses inside of you, though it’s not as slow as he normally is. Normally he takes his time with you, but in just seconds he’s got his entire length inside of you. You feel the way his body shudders against your back, your soaked walls clenching around him. A sigh passes your lips, morphing into a moan. 

You’ve missed this. You’ve missed him.

His thrusts are slow at first, but it doesn’t take him long for him to pick up his speed. His hips meet your backside, a wonderful symphony of skin slapping against each other fills the room, loud enough to make your ears burn with embarrassment. You bury your face in the pillow to muffle your moans. A hand wraps itself around the back of your neck, though, to pull you up towards its owner. Clive’s heavy breath is in your ear now, worsening your arousal.

“Don’t hide your voice from me,” pants Clive, sharp teeth nibbling at your earlobe. “I want to hear you.”

And you find that you can’t deny him. Your moans are loud, needy, your knuckles turning white from how roughly you’re gripping the sheets to the point where they might tear. His other hand snakes down your stomach, reaching your lower half, and his fingers make work on your clit. It’s a slow rub, his thrusts contrasting the gentleness of his fingers. You can feel yourself reaching your peak, you can feel the knot in your stomach tightening and tightening until–

Until he pulls right out of you.

You whine, loudly, at the loss. Your walls clench at nothing, and you try to thrust yourself back towards him, but Clive doesn’t let you do that. Instead, he flips you both again - him on his back and you sitting on his lap. He looks up at you with a smile, his hand running up and down your stomach once more.

“I know exactly what you like.” The outlaw says, pulling you forward so his cock rests right against your stomach. You feel how hot it is, how hard it is, and how it throbs and pulsates against your skin. “Show me how much you want to cum.”

Oh, he’s definitely dragging this out as long as he can. You can’t exactly blame him, you don’t want this to end either. 

But you also really need to reach your peak, otherwise you may burn the whole Hideaway down.

Your wobbly legs manage to hold yourself up, slowly moving down on him. Your whole body shudders as his cock fills you up again, the tip pressing against the deepest parts of your inside. You move up and down on his length, moans and pants spilling from your lips as you decide to not hide your voice any longer - because he wants to hear you. And you can’t deny him, because you don’t want to deny him.

“Founder, your voice alone drives me mad.” Clive growls, his hand squeezing your thigh as he thrusts upwards to meet your own movements. “Tried to focus on my work, tried to put you out of my head for days, but I just couldn’t. I couldn’t stop thinking about how much I needed you blissed out on my cock–”

He’s rambling, his voice low and rough, and you love every second of it. Clive’s not much of a talker, but when he is, he makes you feel so depraved for him. Your legs were starting to shake and feel weak already, but you push yourself - you push yourself because you want this. Because you need this from him, just as much as he needed this from you.

“Clive,” you chant his name like a prayer, over and over again. You must sound delirious.

But Clive clearly doesn’t seem to mind, the way his back arches a little just from the sound of your sweet voice. It’s a powerful feeling, you realize, having such a powerful man like him weak at you - a mere mortal, a bearer but not a Dominant. Yet, it’s a good reminder that beneath everything, Clive is a mortal man as well.

“Can you feel me, sweetheart?” He places his hand on your lower stomach, feeling the way it bulges a little from the sheer size of him. You look down, shuddering at the sight as he continues to thrust upwards, your eyes following how the bulge disappears then reappears. “You take me so fucking well. It’s like you were made for me, the way you shake your hips like a woman at the Veil.”

You can’t respond, any time you try to all that fumbles from your lips are moans and whines of pure pleasure.

“I can get so deep into you like this,” groans Clive, his other hand grasping at your hip. “All the way into you. Fuck, I could breed you right here. I could make you swell with my child.”

Oh, that’s different.

And it’s clearly a good different, the way your body responds. Your walls clench around him, as if your body had a mind of its own, as if your body was begging for the man to breed you. He notices too, and he licks his lips and smirks once he realizes you may enjoy the idea as he did.

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?” Another thrust upwards. His thrusts are getting sloppier and rougher, but Greagor does it feel so good. “I wouldn’t be able to control myself, seeing you like that. I’d fuck you every single day–”

You moan, so lecherously. “Clive, fuck, I’m going to cum!”

Both hands grab at your hips, fingers digging and sinking into your skin so hard you know there’s going to be some bruising there in the morning. But you don’t care. All you care about is the man underneath you, and chasing after your own release. Clive makes you move faster onto him, a growl rumbling from his throat.

“Go on, let yourself go.”

You were already so overstimulated from the foreplay from before, and the way his cock brushes against your sweet spots and bashes against the entrance to your womb, you can’t help it. Your walls tighten around him, and you let yourself go.

Another growl rumbles from his throat, this time he pulls you right down onto him, hard. It doesn’t take him long to follow you into a blissful climax, his hot seed pouring into you and flooding your insides. It’s a lot, more than usual, to the point where it floods out from your entrance and onto him.

You collapse onto him, and he instantly takes you in his arms. Slowly, he flips your positions again, just so he can press himself deeper into you. Thank the Founder, because your legs were about to give out.

A moment passes, until he finally pulls himself out from you. His blown out pupils watch as his seed overflows from you, dripping onto the sheets beneath you. He shudders at the sight, and you can’t help but shudder as well.

You’re fading in and out of existence, but when you mostly come to, Clive has wiped you and him down, cleaning you up and gently pressing kisses against any marks he’s left on you. The sheets will unfortunately have to wait until tomorrow. Frankly, you could give less of a shit about that.

The outlaw slumps himself against you, pulling you into his arms. You both lay there in a comfortable silence, as he buries his face in the crook of your neck.

“Thank you.” His voice trembles, a little embarrassed - that’s the Clive you know. “I’ll, uh, make sure Tarja prepares a herbal tea for you tomorrow, so that you don’t…” He trails off, hiding his face against your neck even more now.

You chuckle, feeling the hotness of his cheeks against your skin. “Feeling better?”

“Yes,” answers the male as he lifts his head up with a smile. “Much better. You always seem to know how to cure my worries and needs.”

“What can I say? I know my boss pretty well.”

He laughs, and your heart feels so warm, so in love with the man before you. Clive leans in, pressing his lips against yours to share a sweet, innocent kiss that contrasts the sinful act you both just partook in. And you kiss him back, wrapping your arms around him. You only stop when you feel something hard rub against your thigh, pulling back to see he was still pretty aroused. He’s a little sheepish at that, but he looks at you in want, in need - and love, as always.

“I don’t think one time is going to be enough for you, big guy.”

A sheepish laugh falls from his lips. “I don’t think so either. I might need a few more rounds. That is, if my faithful advisor is up to it.” 

He’s challenging you, clearly. The smirk on his face tells you all you need to know. You smirk back, bucking your hips against his to accept.

“Only if you do most of the work.” You tell him, a leg going in to wrap itself around his waist. “You made me weak in my knees, Lord Rosfield. A gentleman should take some responsibility for his actions.”

His low chuckle reaches your ears, as he leans in to press his forehead against yours. It’s a tender action, one that definitely makes you feel weak in the knees - if you hadn’t already. It doesn’t take him long to reenter you, and you can’t hide the shudder of your slightly overstimulated body. 

But you want everything he has to offer, the good and the bad of Clive Rosfield, and he’ll give it to you. 

Because he wants everything you have to offer, the good and the bad of his faithful advisor, in return.

“As you wish, my love.”

He claims your lips. The night goes on.

“Somethin’ seems to be on your mind.”

Jill looks towards the source of the voice. Gav stands next to her, arms crossed as he meets her gaze with a raised brow. The Dominant says nothing to him, only slowly returning her gaze to where she once was looking. Gav’s line of sight follows hers, landing right on the scene that was unfolding before them.

“Clive, I’m trying to do work!”

Hideaway’s poor advisor was currently trying to shake an overgrown Cid the Outlaw off of them, who has currently draped himself over you. It had been a single day since you had returned from your trip and needless to say, Clive was acting as though you had been gone for years. Arms wrapped around your waist, pulling your body flush against yours.

“Nothing is stopping you from doing your work,” is all Clive remarks with, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“Except for a fucking overgrown dog!”

Gav whistles at the sight before him. “Someone seems to be in a good mood.”

“Indeed,” nods Jill, her gaze never leaving the both of you. Right now you were trying to walk away, which resulted in you basically having to drag the second Eikon of fire around because he refused to let himself off of you. “But, I can’t help but wonder if this is worse than the mood he was in before.”

The scout shrugs his shoulders. “Our advisor has dealt with worse from him. And we don’t have to deal with him slobberin’ all over us, so I’d say a good mood is better than nothin’.”

The woman says nothing. She knows it’s going to be a few days before Clive will return to his normal self, if your theory about why he’s been moody all week rings true. Such things don’t end with a simple, pleasurable night. You’ll be fine, she knows that, so she’s not too worried that you won’t be able to handle Clive Rosfield.

It’s in your job description, after all.

( she’ll still pray to metia for you, at the very least, and hope you come out unscathed. )