#and it doesn't matter how good or bad the show does it's entirely up to the 'do we want to actually pay these people' execs

[sepublic]

I'm glad I'm not the only one that noticed that trend with toh/dungeon meshi, because it had been bothering. And while everything you said runs true, I feel another aspect of it is the want to compare lumity to farcille. Amity-Marcille is not a bad comparison, even if it's not perfect, but Luz and Falin don't really have much in common beyond some traits you can really strech.

And I feel this highlights another aspect of the white favoritism, and is that most people only like Luz as part of Lumity. She fits as Laios far better than Hunter does, not as Falin, but the farcille vibes for lumity are far more important, because Luz character on her own is not what people is interested in, and is really bothersome. Because again, Amity is white, and she doesn't have this problem.

In general fandom will always default to reducing Luz to just the silly queer girl to talk about her white counterparts’ depth. They’ll talk about Hunter’s cult trauma or Amity overcoming her abuse, meanwhile Luz has an entire arc about surviving a suicidal depression and not letting a racist gaslight her into thinking she’s a selfish monster.

And then they’ll just reduce her to OTTER LUZ because it’s funny to juxtapose what a silly idiot Luz is compared to their serious and deep white faves, it’s just Oblivious Luz again. On its own these things (minus Oblivious Luz) were fine, except Luz isn’t held up as a multifaceted character with range the way her white counterparts are, she’s mostly appreciated as their supportive accessory and not someone whose struggle has so much more narrative focus because it IS the narrative.

There will sometimes be this performative culture around praising Luz as a Girlboss, a girl of color, but in the end it’s just that; Performative. People don’t treat Luz with the same consistent depth, they don’t treat her trauma the same as others’ despite her being the actual main character; She’s canonically suicidal! Fandom will give Luz her time in the spotlight when this week’s episode does, but after a while default back to Hunter when canon isn’t constantly reminding them who’s the real star of the show.

It’s simple really; Fandom loves to praise how their media has a diverse cast but then not engage with said diverse cast the way they do their white (boy) faves; They just treat characters of color as a shiny medal to prove they’re Progressive, but canon is not fandom. And fandom never listens to PoC despite saying they will this time, no you’re just an anti who hates fun or I can learn to consume it ‘critically’ except you don’t. Fandom has this gaslighting effect, regardless of intent, that the white guys are the only truly interesting characters and everyone else just isn’t as good no matter how much they do.

[transmascutena]

thinking about how akio sees his younger self in utena and wondering if there's any fondness there. doesn't change the horror of what he does to her obviously but i do wonder

[sleepingfancies]

the thing is i genuinely think we wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t so obvious that Netflix loves to cancel shit after 2 seasons

[asidian]

I've seen a lot of really excellent analysis on Charles' reaction to Edwin's confession, but there's a huge aspect that I haven't seen talked about at all yet. And that is, namely:

Charles Rowland is a people-pleaser.

Doesn't seem like there's a connection there, does it? Have a seat, my friends. Let me break this down.

The show lays the groundwork for this aspect of Charles' personality early. It's one of the very first things we learn about him, in fact. He's kind and agreeable and helpful, and he's always, always smiling. When Crystal insults him, he laughs it off. When Crystal and Edwin fight, he scrambles to diffuse the situation. He calls himself "a good sort of a chap," and it's important to him that he is.

In episode 3, we find out why. At home, love was always conditional for him. He spent his entire life trying to please his father, and he confesses to Crystal that no matter how nice he was, or how good at sports, it was never enough. That's how Charles sees the world. If he can make people happy, he might actually be good enough for them to love him.

Not only didn't he earn his father's affection, he didn't even manage, in his own eyes, to clear the low bar of being good enough to earn the privilege of not being hurt. And his mother, he says, was "quiet." From the flashback we see, she never stepped in for him or defended him. However hard he was trying, it wasn't enough to get her to intervene on his behalf.

So who else does he have? His "friends"? The ones who literally murder him when he steps in to stop them from doing a terrible thing? The act he put on wasn't enough to win them over in the end, either. However friendly he was, however personable, they turned on him and left him for dead.

Then he meets Edwin.

And when he meets Edwin, he's at his absolute lowest. He's not smiling and putting on a show, for once. He's in a corner of an attic cowering while he slowly freezes to death. But here comes Edwin, offering him kindness, and company, and comfort.

All these things that Charles has spent his whole life chasing, trying to be good enough to earn? Edwin just gives them to him.

Of course he stays with this boy. Edwin is there when he's lost in the dark, shining a light to guide the way. Edwin has seen him unsmiling and afraid, not a shred of his usual act in place, and Edwin has offered him kindness anyway.

So they begin their time together. And what are the things Charles will pick up on almost immediately?

Edwin says right away that he's spent ages in hell. He's plainly had an awful time. He doesn't know how to handle people anymore, but Charles, he knows how to be amiable, how to smile, how to offer levity when things get grim.

So he does. He falls back into what he thinks Edwin needs, the way he always tried to be what his father wanted to see. In the very first episode, he tells Crystal, "I try to be extra happy for all of us, don't I? And I do a pretty good job."

He doesn't ever discuss his own trauma because these boys are terrible at communication, but more than that. He doesn't ever bring it up because he's busy being the support he thinks Edwin needs.

And importantly, Charles doesn't have the self-reflection skills to realize that's what he's doing. Crystal clocks him with shocking accuracy, three episodes in. "He's been hiding it from you," she tells Edwin. "Probably been hiding it from himself." She's spot-on here: when Charles doesn't want to examine his own emotions, or can't face them, he shoves them down under a smile and he carries on pretending.

But that's not the only thing Charles will have picked up on from Edwin.

It's blindingly obvious that Edwin is bad at people. He's terribly repressed. He's from a culture in which emotional honesty and physical affection were not valued or encouraged. But more than any of that, Edwin has his sexual awakening during the events of the show. Before then, he is absolutely clueless about his own wants.

So we have a situation where a consummate people-pleaser who has spent his entire life learning that he has to earn affection finds his way into a friendship with the first person who ever saw him with his mask down and gave him kindness anyway.

Of course he stays with this boy. Of course he wants to keep this.

And what's the best way Charles knows to win someone over? Well, by being what he thinks they want.

So, out come the smiles, for Edwin's sake as much as his own. But more importantly, out comes whatever Charles thinks he needs to perform, in order to keep what is the single most important relationship in his entire life and afterlife.

At this point, Edwin has shown zero romantic or sexual interest, not just in Charles, but in anyone at all. He doesn't especially seem inclined to dating, or to romance, or even to physical affection.

So Charles takes his cues from Edwin, and the cues are very firmly, for thirty years: this boy doesn't have a glimmer of interest in him, not that way.

Fast-forward to the events of the show. Fast-forward to a staircase in hell, where they are being chased by a literal demon. Suddenly his best mate, who he has spent thirty years with, who is his most important person in the world, is saying that he's in love with him.

Of course he needs a minute. Of course he has to sort that through. Any feelings he has for Edwin are things that he has spent literal decades firmly ignoring in the scramble to try and earn affection by being what he thinks Edwin needs him to be.

Because Charles is a people-pleaser at heart. And he may be dreadful at self-reflection, but he is aces at hiding things from himself.

[caelivir]

hidden lights | rayne ames

— synopsis. reading rayne ames is impossible. that's why you don't get why he offers to take you out on a date after you've been stood up again.

— pairing. rayne ames x fem!reader

— genres. modern au, you and rayne are roommates, fluff, you’re so oblivious it hurts, rayne's most likely ooc towards the end but we do it for plot,

— warnings. one kys thrown in at the end but it’s not in a serious manner

— word count. 3.2k

— notes. in honor of triple liner rayne being animated. i have quite literally been waiting to see it animated for years. also hi.

you can never tell what rayne ames is thinking. he wears the same cold, uninterested glare on his face at all times of the day. he never speaks unless spoken to, never lets you know when he leaves the apartment, never does anything to show that he actually has emotions.

you're asked on the daily how you survive rooming with him, and in all honesty, it's really not that bad. he does his half of the chores, and he doesn't leave his shit all over the apartment. really, the guy's only problem is his lack of emotion. it drives you up the wall.

finn says not to take it to personally during the one day he visited his brother. apparently, he's like that with everyone, but he's still a good guy. it just takes time.

you would like to believe that, but rayne makes that extremely difficult to believe when he looks like he wants to kill every person who so happens to exist in his direction.

so naturally, seeing him so angered after finding out that you've been stood up is surprising. it's an even bigger shock when he offers to take you out on a date instead.

you don't know what compels you to agree. even if you hadn't accepted his offer, something tells you that rayne would've found a way to get you to leave with him so there's no use in trying to deny him in this matter.

that's why you allow him to drive all the way to marchétte street, where a night market is being held in full swing. the road has all sorts of stalls lined up one after the other, ranging from foods to clothes. but because the marchétte night market is ridiculously popular, the place is packed to the brim with people.

rayne offers his hand once he notices that you're daunted by the crowds. you stare at him with surprise. when you don't make a move to accept this action, rayne huffs before grabbing your hand. he interlocks his fingers with yours and drags you into marchétte street's traffic.

the first thing you note is that rayne's hands are surprisingly warm and soft. for someone so incapable of talking, his touch is strangely reassuring.

he drags you to a vendor selling takoyaki. and even as he orders, rayne doesn’t let go of your hand.

“what do you want?” he says into your ear so that he doesn’t have to yell over all the noise. the feeling of his breath fanning over your skin sends shivers down your spin. it's maddening.

“oh. uh-” your eyes quickly scan over the menu, and you blurt out the first item that you read. out of habit you reach for your wallet, but rayne is quick to shut you down.

“absolutely not.” he grumbles, letting your hand drop to your side so he can pull out his cash. rayne hands the amount to the girl at the register, and she hands back his change that he drops into the tip jar.

“thanks.” you say quietly, still so flustered about the entire situation.

rayne only studies you before humming in acknowledgement. “come on.” he guides his hand to your upper back, moving you out the way so you can wait on the side for your orders.

it’s during this time you really look at rayne as if that would provide you with the answers you need to understand him. you try to wrap your head around it. you draft up every possible explanation, but none of them seem to make sense.

unless… it couldn’t be… does rayne like you? you shake your head, dismissing the thought as soon as it crosses your mind. no, that’s absurd, the furthest thing from logical. this is rayne ames we’re talking about. in the five months that you’ve been living together, you two have never had a solid conversation. how could he ever like someone he’s barely talked to?

you're about to confront rayne about his intentions until your number order is called, and all the courage you built up crumbles away as rayne leaves you to go pick up your takoyaki.

still, whatever his reasons for doing this may be, this is a rare opportunity to come by, and that means that maybe rayne doesn't have to continue being a stranger. maybe you can get under those layers and find that good guy finn said was there.

"i never knew marchétte had a night market." you say, breaking the silence as the two of you walk side by side through the market.

"i didn't either." rayne admits, poking his fork into one of the octopus balls, and shoving the whole thing into his mouth.

"what?" your face scrunches in disbelief. "then how'd you find out?"

"i asked finn as we were going down to the garage." your date shares nonchalantly.

you turn to look at rayne with the intent of questioning him further, but the sight of his cheeks bulging with food makes you burst out in a fit of giggles.

"what?" rayne asks, narrowing his eyes at you. you bite your lip to contain your laughter. your gaze falls on a mixture of crumbs and sauce that sits on the corner of his mouth, only causing you to smile wider.

"you got a little something there." you gesture at his lips. rayne fumbles for a moment, swiping his fingers around various sections of his mouth, somehow only cleaning half of the mess up.

you shake your head, still grinning up at him. he tenses when your thumb grazes the edges of his lips. you can feel his eyes staring deep into you, and you have to ignore the way it makes your stomach flip.

"all done." you whisper, wiping the remainders on the napkin in your hand.

rayne doesn't say anything regarding what occurred, only urging you to follow him further down marchétte street.

you swear that you see the tips of his ears go red, and something about that makes you all fuzzy inside.

as the night progresses, you and rayne abide your time by visiting stalls. well, it's more like you choose which ones interest you the most, and rayne follows behind. you comment on certain items that look nice; sometimes, you ask for your roommate's opinions to decide on whether something will be worth your money or not. to your surprise, rayne's advice is solid, and you end up listening to him.

at some point, you convinced him to buy a pair of absurdly looking mugs for the apartment. he fought you hard on it, saying that a mug shaped like a fish is extremely inconvenient, but in the end, you won with insistent begging.

when the two of you both got bored of the market, you decide to take rayne to one of your favorite spots in the city.

"the park? really?" rayne gives you a dead stare.

"hey, don't judge." you pout. "i love this place."

"why? no offense, but i don't think parks are all that special."

"i feel like i can take a step back here and just a catch a break from everything," you answer honestly. "sometimes, i sit down and watch people as they live their lives, and something about that is strangely comforting. it makes me want to keep going."

rayne doesn't follow up on your words, but you can tell that he's really considering them, and that brings a smile onto your face.

"plus, i feel like it's a good place for when you want to talk to someone." you grab onto your roommate's wrist. "come on let's go to the swings."

you practically drag rayne to the playground, which is completely deserted, but that's to be expected when it's already 10p.m. no parent would be dumb enough to bring their kid out this late.

you force rayne onto the the swing next to you, and all he does is sit there, unwilling to indulge himself in such a simple joy. annoyed with him, you hop off your own set, coming behind him.

"what are you doing?" rayne whips his head around as your hands plant themselves firmly on his back.

"oh live a little." you huff, mustering up enough strength to push him. the swing rocks forwards and comes back. even as rayne complains and threatens you, you continue to push him, watching as he goes higher and higher. he may be masking it, but you can tell that he's enjoying it.

you finally give up when your arms grow sore and a layer of sweat coats your face. slumping back into the swing beside rayne, you breathe heavily. "man, that was a workout."

"i told you to stop." your date reminds you, shooting you a look.

"you can be honest, rayne. i know you liked it."

"i did not."

"yeah, yeah, keep telling yourself that." you wave him off, laughing.

for a minute, neither of you say anything. you're the one who said that the park is a place where you can talk openly with someone, yet there's not a single topic that you can think to bring up.

luckily, rayne swoops in to save it. "can i ask you something?" your half-blonde roommate asks, something more serious laced in his voice. it makes you swallow a lump in your throat. an anxious feeling creeps into your body.

"of course you can."

"why did you bother giving that guy a chance?"

it's easy to know exactly who he's referring to. you shrug. "he's nice and has good energy."

"but he had stood you up two times in the past though. clearly he isn't as nice as you make him out to be. you seriously can't be that dumb to have fallen for it three times."

that statement in itself should get you mad (even though he would be right), but there's something peculiar in what he said that had you ignoring the jab altogether. "how'd you know he stood me up twice before? i never told you that."

at that, rayne freezes, eyes blowing wide open. it's so obvious that he's trying to find an excuse right now, but you push further.

"who told you that, rayne?" you lean closer, watching as his ears turn beet red. you're not even angry with him. it's mostly curiosity making you push him. not to mention that seeing him in a flustered state is entertaining and quite cute.

"max did." your roommate finally admits albeit quietly.

you pull your head back. "max? as in max land? how the hell does he know?"

"your dates happened to be at the restaurant he works at."

"why would he bother telling you that though?" you wonder. "up until tonight, i don't think it concerned you."

"it did though." the half-blonde mumbles, thinking you wouldn't hear, but you do anyway.

"what?" you press.

"forget it." rayne shakes his head, growing irritated.

"no. fuck that.." you seethe, annoyed at his unwillingness to be honest with you. rayne bites his tongue to hold back. you see it. "don't act like this. just tell me, or i swear to god i'll text max right now-"

"it's because i knew that i could treat you better." the words rush out of rayne's mouth as he snaps his head toward you. the fire in his eyes die as he locks his gaze onto you. the harsh emotion written across his features softens. you can feel your own exasperation slipping away like that of a retreating ocean tide. he grimaces in regret, knowing that he didn't mean to let that slip out, but he did anyway. it's out in the open, and now you knew.

surely, you're hearing things wrong. perhaps you're misunderstanding what he just said. how could that be misinterpreted though? it's such a painfully straightforward statement, yet it still doesn't make any sense.

rayne sighs. it's like he can already hear your thoughts and your confusion. the least he can do is clear the air and dump everything onto you while he can. "i didn't expect to feel like this," he begins to explain. "when i moved in, i just assumed you'd be another person i wouldn't pay attention to. i'm sure you know how i am. i don't bother getting to know people, but a lot of people feel the need to force themselves into my life, and shit like that pisses me off. but you didn't do that. you introduced yourself, explained the ground rules of the apartment, and then left me alone."

"so... you like the fact that i leave you alone?" you tilt your head.

"shut up. let me finish."

"okay."

"but yeah, that's part of it. you keep your distance, but you still try to show that you care. you don't do anything groundbreaking. it's just that the small things you do for me got to me. it may sound dumb to you, but it meant a lot to me."

suddenly, you're hit like a train because you know exactly what rayne means. you recall all the times you ensured that there was dinner for him, the times you moved his laundry into the dryer when he forgot to do it himself, and the times you restocked his favorite snacks when they ran out. you hadn't realized that you did any of that. it just came naturally, no hidden meaning behind it.

"oh." you breathe out, blinking.

rayne nods, continuing. you're honestly floored over the fact that he still has more to say. "you don't notice it. at least, i don't think you do, but at some point, i tried doing the same for you. i started paying more attention to you and what you liked and how you liked things done. i did it mostly to pay back your kindness, but over time i continued just 'cause i liked seeing your smile."

you have to process that for a minute, piecing together how certain events lined up until it finally clicks into place. "s-so the island vase-"

"i replace the flowers because you like them fresh."

"the key holder?"

"you always forgot to bring your keys until i installed it."

"when you put on movies-"

"i check your letterboxd and hope that you'll sit and watch them with me."

"when i put on movies-"

"i sit with you because i want to be near you."

your jaw falls open. never in a million years could you have expected this. you thought that rayne could care less about your existence, but the reality was that that was far from the truth. cold, aloof rayne was always doing things for you. all this time, you've been so oblivious.

still, there's more to the story so you stay quiet, letting him get his feelings off of his chest. "to be honest, i was never going to say anything. max tried convincing me to confess on multiple occasions, but i was dead set on letting it pass. i didn't think you liked me in the same way anyway.

"but then you came home today and you told me about your date and i just got so... angry," rayne clenches his fist around the chains of the swing. the whole situation infuriates him every time he thinks about it. "it just wasn't fair. you spent so much time into looking your best just for that asshole to go and waste your effort. you're so beautiful, so kind and understanding, and i fucking hate the fact that he's been taking advantage of that.

"i really wasn't thinking clear when i proposed this date to you, but god after tonight, i'd do it all over again. i wanted you to know what it's like to be with someone who does care about you. i wanted to see you smile. i wanted to hear stories. i want you so badly it's all i can think about sometimes.

"i know this is a lot, and i'm freaking you out right now. i'm sorry but you-"

"rayne." you interrupt with a big smile on your face. he was unaware to the fact that you had got up.

"for fucks sake, can you let me finish? this is already weird enough for me to talk about as is." he rolls his eyes, narrowing his gaze at you, blush splashed across his cheeks. still, without any resistance, you pull him up from his swing by his wrists.

"then don't." you whisper as you pull him in.

and the moment you crash your lips onto rayne's, the world stops. he instantly melts into you, the palms of his hands finding the soft skin on your cheeks. your hands tangle themselves into his hair. his lips are incredibly soft. a faint taste of matcha and sugar syrup dances on his tongue from the boba he drank earlier. a noise of approval vibrates down his throat, and you can't help but smile against his lips.

rayne wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer as he deepens the kiss. you get what he was talking about earlier. this kiss is all it takes to prove it to you. you feel his affection and desire all at once. every single bone in your body is so aware of how much rayne ames cares about you.

when you finally pull away for air, it's like a smile is permanently tugged onto your lips. rayne trains his eyes onto you, engraining every detail of this moment into his head.

a comfortable silence falls as each of you take your time to catch your breaths. your stare finds its way up, admiring the night sky. there are barely any stars out tonight. no, that part isn't remotely true, not fully anyway, because light pollution drowns out stars and their lights. the reality is that there are billions of stars hanging high out of reach; they just go unseen.

rayne is kinda like that you realize. finn was right. his brother is a good guy. there's a hidden light within him behind all those aloof layers of his. you just have to squint and maybe put on some prescription glasses is order to see it. it's a shame it took you five months to to really acknowledge it. but now that you've finally found a glimpse of it, you'll continue to clear past the fog. you want to know every part of rayne and see his light just as he did with you. you want him to be able to shine at his full brightness with no fear. you'll take rayne ames for all that he is.

"come on," you coo, a lovestruck look in your eyes as you slip your hand into rayne's. "let's go home."

bonus:

rayne: finn, give me a date spot quick finn: are you actually going on a date? rayne: stop asking questions finn: there's a night market on marchétte street. finn: are you seriously going on a date though? finn: hello? finn: rayne. finn: stop leaving me on read. finn: is it (y/n)? finn: it is her, huh? finn: asshole.

delisaster: hey sorry delisaster: can we reschedule for next saturday? y/n: kys y/n: lol sorry that was my bf delisaster: bruh what? delisaster: did you have a bf this whole time? *this message could not be sent* delisaster: did you fucking block me? *this message could not be sent*

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

As a follow up to you post about mentors, just to make things fair, what are examples of Tikki being a bad mentor to Marinette?

Post in question for context.

Tikki often acts as the voice of the author. She's there to explain why Marinette is in the wrong. Since Miraculous has some wacky morals, that means we get a mix of good advice and wacky nonsense advice.

Two examples of bad advice that come to mind are Gamer and Strikeback. Gamer is the episode where Marinette stumbles upon an Ultimate Mecha Strike tournament, realizes that Adrien is taking part, and decides to compete so they can be on a team together. Marinette wins a spot through her own hard won skills and then this happens:

Tikki: All you wanted to do is spend time with Adrien, there are other ways to do that! Marinette: What are you getting at? Tikki: You know how much Max wanted to be in that tournament. Kim said he'd been training for it all year. Marinette: You're right. All I could think about was Adrien. 

This is how tournaments work, right? They're not tests of skill, but tests of who put in the most work or who wants to compete the most! That's why we had that scene with Marinette writing out her training schedule and motivations for evaluation, but she lied and that was wrong and...

Okay, I was the one lying here. There was no written evaluation because that's not how tournaments work. All anyone cares about is your skills. They don't care if you're doing this for personal glory or to get closer to a boy or whatever Adrien's motivation was because - notably - his motivation didn't matter in this episode about needing pure motives to be allowed to do things.

What if he didn't care about the competition and only did it to get closer to his classmates? That's not even a random guess. It's a valid read because Adrien ultimately gives his spot to Max while claiming that Max is the better player even though Adrien very clearly beat Max at the start of the episode. Ignoring that weird nonsense dialogue, why was it fine for Adrien to compete when he didn't care but wrong for Marinette to do the same? And Max wanting to compete to show off his skills is also a totally selfish motivation, so why does it matter that he wanted it more? Everything about this episode was nonsense and uncomfortably sexist. If Max wants to compete, then he needs to get better at the game. That's how competitions work.

Strikeback is the second part of the season four final and it starts with Marinette mourning the fact that "Adrien" has left Paris, leading to this:

Marinette: (crestfallen) It's all over, Tikki. Tikki: He'll be back, Marinette. He's just going on a voyage!

Which would be lovely advice if Adrien was a normal boy, but he's Chat Noir and Tikki knows that. She should be freaking out and trying to find a way to get him back to Paris, but then Tikki would have to support Marinette's actions and we can't have that, so instead Tikki gives this nonsense advice because she has to be against whatever "wrong" thing Marinette is doing today.

I could come up with a few more examples, but I think those two paint a pretty good picture of issue one re Tikki. However, when it comes to Tikki, my main issue with her is less a wealth of bad advice - unlike Plagg*, I think she's right more often than not - and more a lack of support. It feels like she's just here to judge Marinette and point out when she's doing something wrong, but a good mentor should be so much more than that.

Kuro Neko is a great example of this. When Chat Noir quits, Tikki just sits back and does nothing while her young charge is freaking out. She doesn't even try to defend Marinette when Plagg is going off about Chat Noir's "ill treatment". For all Plagg's faults in that episode, at least he's doing something about the situation. Meanwhile Tikki literally has two lines in the entire episode! A similar thing happens in Kwami's Choice where Plagg is the one driving them to act while Tikki just wrings her hands in despair.

Tikki: (sighs heavily) What can we do? Plagg: We must free them of that impossible choice. We must… free them of us.

These are not the actions of a mentor. Mentors aren't supposed to just offer judgement about things that their mentee has already done or is considering doing. They're supposed to be a source of support and guidance in hard times, but we never really see Tikki stepping in to give Marinette that kind of advice. If memory serves, she never offers solutions or acts as a sounding board. That role is mainly filled by Alya and I love Alya! It's good for Marinette to have support from a friend, but Alya is also a teenager while Tikki is an ancient being who has seen many Ladybugs go through the kind of struggles that Marinette is going through. I expect her to use that knowledge to help her charge, but she never does. This exchange from Passion perfectly highlights this problem:

Tikki: Don't worry, Plagg... my holder has decided to run away from her real feelings to pursue an impossible love with Cat Noir instead. Plagg: Uh, just to be sure, sugarcube, you do know that Cat Noir and my holder are one and the same person, right? Tikki: I do, but my holder doesn't. Plagg: If she declares her love to Cat Noir, something tells me she'll find out soon enough. Tikki: You have nothing to fear. When my holder is in love, she never gets anywhere. She'll just knit hats and make very complicated plans that will never come to fruition. Plagg: Hmm... ah, then everything's fine.

Tikki, I love you, but by the gods! With a mentor like you, Marinette doesn't need enemies to be miserable! Do you care about her at all??? What kind of mentor delights at their mentee's suffering? Not a good one, that's for sure.

*Quick note: I think that Plagg and Tikki are probably neck and neck for who has given the most bad advice, Plagg just feels like the bigger problem because we don't see him as much as we see Tikki. Since she's tied to the main character, Tikki gives advice in almost every episode and most episodes have decent morals.

Adrien's need for good advice can also feel more glaring because he's so isolated and passive. That makes Plagg's lack of good advice feel more harmful, but Marinette is just as isolated from real advice. Her mentor figures - Su Han, Fu, and Tikki - mostly give orders and judgement instead of support and guidance. It's just harder to spot that fact because Marinette is actively trying to do the right thing, meaning that she's more likely to make mistakes, and it's easy to see why she comes across as a lot less pathetic and a lot easier to judge.

[seiwas]

papa bakugo and the thought that he intently raises his kids in ways to be unlike him.

and when they're older, asking serious questions about parenting like: why did you make sure we were friends with everyone on the playground? why did you always have to step away when you were mad? how come you don't like us seeing videos of you when you were younger?

he tells them it's because he never wanted them to turn out like him—that leading by example has always been more effective, and he wasn't exactly the best example back then. still doesn't feel like he is now but he's trying (at least, that's what you say, and it must count for something).

and his kids are confused because what does he mean he isn't the best example? all they want is to be like him.

they want the same fire, the dedication he puts in day in and day out; how he only ever gives his best and never backs down. one of the greatest lessons they've learnt from their papa is that a promise is a promise and you deliver on it. no matter what.

they want the same balance he's achieved, making time for both work and his family but especially his family—how they've never once felt second in his life; how he's managed to show up to every game, every performance like the superdad he is. and even when he doesn't make it for the entire thing, you can bet he's rushing in, all soot-covered and polo unbuttoned with the base of his suit underneath.

(you never told your kids, but on katsuki's 14th father's day, you held him while he cried, tears of relief from his eyes. he was watching their surprise, a day-in-the-life reenactment video of pro-dad bakugo katsuki, starring the kids and you).

they want to love the way he loves them, the way he loves you—attentive and all-in because bakugo katsuki never half-asses anything. he adds personal touches to each plate of breakfast he cooks: bear pancakes for his little girl, egg done scrambled and another sunny-side up for his two boys. and you always insist on having what he's having because you don't want to add to the hassle, but he knows your signature morning drink and serves it right by the plate beside his, always yours.

you always tell him that having your kids turn out like him now is all you could ever want, and he always scoffs, tuts and laughs like it can't possibly be true. but maybe if your kids tell him now, that they want to be just like their papa, he'll believe it—all the good in him that everyone sees but he can't seem to.

you hope he doesn't see it as a bad thing—that his kids have grown and chosen to in the shape of him.

[mirohlayo]

https://www.tumblr.com/mirohlayo/736270231017865216/my-introvert-girl-ln4?source=share

Is it bad I wanna see avas reaction andl her showing everyone she hates reader?

okay so i didn't intend to write a part 2 for my introvert girl but many anons asked me for ava's reaction so here is it !! 🫶

MY INTROVERT GIRL | LN4 (pt2)

( lando and you are finally together, but it seems one girl still hates you no matter what )

warning : slight angst, insecurity, fluff, like a lil innuendo but that's all, soft lando

note : not gonna write a part 3 because i think it's useless, but already pretty proud of these 2 parts !!

word count : 4k

!! english not my first language !!

lando and you are dating for quite some weeks now. and everything is going wonderfully. he has never been so in love, and therefore the same for you. he loves you so much and he's never tired of showing it, you being overwhelmed by his affection.

he doesn't hesitate to show the entire world how precious you are to him, and if he has to prove it until everyone notices that you are his he will do it for eternity. and you would do the same for him without a doubt, he is your first boyfriend ever and certainly the last of your life.

your love is so intense and can be feel wherever you two go, that necessarily it does not go unnoticed. especially in the eyes of the pretty blonde who obviously feels the same feelings for lando as you. even if it's always good to remember that lando only has eyes for you and only you.

and it gets on ava's nerves. when she knew about you dating, her jealousy towards you has only increased. she saw red. she was horrified by this sudden new. she was sure lando would ends up dating her because there was no world in which he would have ended up with an introvert like you.

she finds you so bland. uninteresting. you're not comfortable with people and being shy you're not talkative. and you're always stuck on lando's side as if you were going to die if you didn't stay close to him.

and the fact that lando doesn't see anything wrong with it and isn't even a little annoyed by your behavior because he adores when his girl gets clingy. he always ends up staring at you with tenderness like you are the most beautiful thing in the world.

you here, you there. ava hates it. she detests you. if we would offer her the choice to break your couple she would do it without hesitation. and this is obviously what she intends to do. because since she sees no point in lando dating his complete opposite, such an introvert girl. no, he needs an funny and extrovert girl like ava to match him.

winter break allows the f1 drivers to relax and to rest, to spend time with their loved ones. lando was looking forward to it since it's his first winter break with you, so he wants to make the most of it to spend as much time as possible with you.

he organized many trips, one of them is a trip to vietnam. some of his closest friends will take part in the trip, including ava. normally, she wasn't supposed to come but ria had an hold up so she ended up replacing her. to her greatest happiness of course.

for your part, you weren't comfortable with going on this trip with the blonde girl. you know very well how much she hates you and that she wants to ruin your romantic relationship. you don't want to alert lando or anyone else, you don't want to create problems because it's not in your nature unlike ava. so you just decided not to say anything.

you told yourself that putting up with her presence and her stupid remarks for a week wasn't going to be that complicated. and then you'll be with your lover most of the time, so ava won't be able to speak to you much. ignoring her will be the best solution.

you arrived two days ago now, and after eating you all decided to spend the afternoon on the beach playing games like volleyball or even mini football. nothing but just activities for fun.

everyone is excited to play games, but you're not really in the mood. you're feeling a little tired and you just don't feel like having fun right now. on the one hand, your shyness also forces you to stay locked up in the hotel. you like playing games but you're afraid of making a fool of yourself in front of others. especially in front of ava.

so you inform lando about it, that you weren't coming, and he told you that he wasn't going to leave the hotel and stay with you either.

"baby it's okay, i'll stay in the hotel room. go play with the others" you say to him before slip in under the blanket. "no. if you don't go then neither do i. i’ll stay with you" he retorts, joining you in the bed.

he places himself above you, his chest on yours and his arms tightly wrap your waist. "please lando. i know how much you want to spend time with your friends so i would never refuse that to you. i don't want you to stay locked up because of me" you say to convince him.

"but that's the point, i want to stay locked up with you baby. you’re the one i want to spend time with the most. i don't really care about the others for now. if you stay here, then me too. i just want you with me” he pouts, and places his chin on your stomach.

you look down to plant your eyes in his gaze and he shows you his prettiest smile. what an adorable man. "okay fine. but i don't want you to be mad at me for that later" you warn him. "never. i would never blame you, love” he said before hiding his head in the crook of your neck.

"love you" he muffles and his breath tickles you. "i love you too lan" you says before pressing a soft kiss on his hair. you start playing with his curls, while he's here holding you close, leaving some kisses here and there on your shoulder and neck.

an hour passes like this, you two cuddling close to each other. a text from max makes lando's phone vibrate and he groans. he extends his hand lazily and grab his phone to read the text. "what he's saying ?" you ask, sounding sleepy. "if we're going to join them or not" he replies sounding the same as you.

you think for a few moments. lando was going to put his phone down on the nightstand when you finally suggest that you must go out and join the others on the beach. "are you sure? do you really want to go outside?" he asks you cautiously, his tired eyes scanning your face. "yes. i want to stretch out. your body made me sag" you tease him and he rolls his eyes letting out a laugh. “just say i'm too heavy” “no you’re perfect baby”.

he can't help but blush so hard. god it's the first time that a girl has had such an effect on him. and it seems that it flutters him even more coming from an introvert. "fine. let's go then my girl" he says and in a second you're already outside, walking hand in hand to join your friends.

“it looks like the sloths are back” pietra says, nodding towards the couple arriving on the beach. “we didn’t even sleep” lando responds defensively. “oh so you must have done dirty things then" max said playfully, giving implied glances to the two lovers.

lando can feel himself blushing really hard, just like you. “shut up you muppet. you're saying bullshit" you reply embarrassed. everyone seems amused by the situation except of course one person.

ava.

she seems to be killing you with her gaze, looking you up and down like you're the plague itself. of course lando doesn't notice, too hypnotized by the beautiful girl walking beside him. he almost falls to the ground because of you.

“well, looks like y/n finally got the guts to show herself. which is rare with her, we almost wonder if she even exists sometimes.” ava looks at you and displays a fake, hypocritical smile. no one seems to laugh at her remark and the atmosphere becomes uncomfortable. you don't know where to go or how to react. you feel a little humiliated to tell the truth.

"huh, what did you say ?" lando remarks, a little confused by what the blonde just said. the girl sighs and rolls her eyes before showing her smile that you dream of making her swallow. “oh it’s okay, it was just kidding. we all know that y/n isn’t comfortable with people but i love her anyway” she finally added.

you feel like shit. she's talking like you're the worst scumbag on earth and you don't even have the strength to defend yourself. your shyness seems to be taking over. "um well. okay ava just stop talking and instead start playing. you've been losing every round since a while ago" martin says to lighten the atmosphere because everyone seemed disturbed and embarrassed by the situation.

you sigh and slowly drop lando's hand, but he holds it tightly and looks at you. “don't worry baby, i'm going to stay with you. we can relax on the deckchairs if you prefer” lando kindly offers you, he wants to make you feel comfortable.

“as you wish” you shrug your shoulders trying to hide your sadness and pain and lando smiles at you before leading you towards the deckchairs. he lays down comfortably on one and you move towards another one close to his. but he grabs your hand and makes you sit on his legs. “lie on me love” he begs you with his eyes.

you smile shyly at him and stand up. "nah. we're in public lando, i don't want to receive all the teasing from our friends" you declare before lying down on another deckchair. he pouts, disappointed not to feel your body against his. he even brings his deckchair closer to yours so he can hold your hand, or play with a few strands of your hair.

the sun is strong and the beach umbrella protects you, with of course the sunscreen that you put on before. the waves dance loudly and the laughter of your friends fills the atmosphere with joy. it's calming.

well, it was calming for a little while. ava noticed that you weren't with them playing a game of volleyball and while scanning the surroundings, she spotted you on the deckchairs, silly smiles on your races and lando being extremely touchy with you.

she hates this view. she hates you. she would like to tear off your smile and make you disappear. she already imagines herself in your place, laughing loudly with lando. you are not in your place. it's her. you don't deserve lando.

she walks briskly towards the two of you, and your faces turn towards her. the blonde smiles hypocritically and without any hesitation, she sits on the edge of your lover's deckchair. which you don't like at all. and neither does lando, since he doesn't wait a single second to gently push her with his leg.

she seems hurt and shows it openly, putting her hand to her heart to express her pain ironically. "you hurt me lando. i thought we were friends" she said in a sad tone. “we kind of are. but this place is reserved for my girlfriend only” he answers, holding your hand tighter.

you feel more reassured and you feel your heart soar at the words of your lover. he knows when to show others that it's only you who matters. this comment makes ava roll her eyes, but it's subtle enough that only you notice. she sits on another deck chair and turns to you.

“why don’t you come play with us?” she starts to start a conversation. “y/n doesn’t really want to and neither do i, so i'm staying with her.” lando says and she lets a mocking laugh come out of her mouth and you look at her surprised. “it looks like you’re babysitting her” she says, laughing.

did you hear that correctly? is she serious? you can't let this go. “what did you say?” you ask with a frown. she lets another laugh escape and it also attracts lando's attention. "you seem like you're a baby who always needs lando's attention. he looks like a babysitter because of you"

it’s lando’s turn to frown. he holds your hand a little more firmly. “what do you mean ava?” he says, he knows something is wrong. the blonde sighs deeply and rolls her eyes, glaring at y/n.

"look, she's not even capable of playing with others and having fun. she's stopping you from having good times. she's so shy and... introverted that she's ruining your holidays, even your personal space. she's always stuck to you, it seems like she doesn't know how to cope without you it's just... pathetic." she unpacks it all while looking at you with disgust.

oh you feel so humiliated now. you feel tears coming but you hold them back, crying in front of her will only make things worse. you feel so weak and worthless. you blame yourself for being so insecure, being so shy and reserved. because maybe it's the truth.

maybe lando is finally fed up with you and he hates being around you, stuck with an ordinary and shy person like you. he probably can't have the fun he wants because of your shyness. maybe it's true, you're like a child who's ruining his life.

"don't ever talk about her that way again. you really disgust me ava. you don't even measure up to her and you dare open your fucking mouth to say bullshit" lando starts to raise his voice. you can tell he looks extremely angry.

“oh because you also want to defend her?” she asks mockingly. "i defend her and will defend her no matter what happens. you don't have to talk to my girlfriend like that when she is everything you will never be" he spits his words in her face and gives her a cold look.

he jumps up and holds your hand tightly. when his gaze falls on you, it softens. “come on y/n. let’s go back to the hotel” he pulls you towards him and walks you to the hotel pushing ava out of the way. “get out. i don’t want to see you anymore.” he says his last words to her.

the blonde remains standing, alone. a strange, painful and hurtful feeling takes hold of her. the rest of the group stopped playing, observing the scene. now it's ava's turn to feel humiliated. why did she do that?

for your part, you and Lando return to your hotel room. it's silent. he opens the door and you run to take refuge in the bed, so that he joins you a few seconds later. "don't worry baby. don't listen to her, she's talking nonsense. she just wants to destroy you" lando tries to reassure you and you just nod your head.

you smile at him to reassure him in turn, although deep down you are still a little worried. you're still a little hurt. a part of you tells you that it's true, that Lando doesn't like being constantly stuck to you. you don't like it at all.

the rest of the afternoon passes quickly for your boyfriend, but slowly for you. you can't stop overthinking, thinking about ava's words. part of your brain still makes you believe that you don't deserve lando and that he will be better off with ava. it eats you from the inside. you don't like to doubt lando but ava makes you feel vulnerable and insecure.

and your boyfriend noticed it. he noticed that you had become quieter, you only spoke to him very recently. and he starts to worry about you. he suspects deep down that it's because of earlier that you seem off. so he knows exactly what to do.

he proposed, well more like forced you to watch the sunset, just the two of you, him and you on the beach. no group of friends, no ava, no games, no, just the two of you on the beach. you weren't for it at first but you love sunsets and night walks on the beach, so you finally gave up. especially if it's with lando. you walk hand in hand on the warm sand. the waves rock your ears and the sun slowly begins to set on the horizon. how beautiful. you find a comfortable spot and sit down, lando still holding your hand in his.

he gently caresses it with his thumb, pressing a few random kisses on the back of your hand. he rests your head on his shoulder, and you admire the magnificent landscape in the distance. it's soothing, it's romantic.

"beautiful right?” lando murmurs against you, staring into the distance. you smile to yourself. “very beautiful” “just like you” he responds quickly and you can tell he’s grinning. you laugh softly and shake your head. “how cheesy” you blurt out and it’s his turn to let out a soft laugh.

oh his laugh.

although you still hide it, lando knows he needs to talk to you. that he must reassure you. that he has to make you sure how much he loves you and that he would literally do anything for you. because you're the only girl who makes it feel this good.

“y/n” he whispers your name so softly, and it warms your heart. “hmm babe?” you hum. he moves to get a little closer to you and rests his head on yours. "i know what you're thinking about since this afternoon” he begins cautiously not wanting to rush you. he knows your nature.

"w-what ?" you try to hide. but you know very well that he knows you by heart. “please don’t try to avoid the subject. you know what i'm talking about.” he ends up saying.

you sigh. you know you have to talk to him about it, it will only do you good. “yes sorry.” "don't feel sorry love. take your time". he said in such a caring way. he presses a soft kiss against your hair. and another on your cheek. he loves kissing your face so much.

you take a deep breath. you press your hand a little more against his. "it's just... it's just that i feel so insecure when ava talks about me like that. i keep telling myself that i don't deserve you, that you deserve someone who looks like you and who is not your opposite. like ava". you pause but you know he continues to be attentive and listen to you.

"i..." you continue "i keep thinking that it must bore you to stay constantly and always with me. that my shyness surely prevents you from having fun and enjoying your life to the fullest. that i'm like a drag and dating an introvert like me is a bad idea” you finish, tears soon escaping your eyes.

now he faces you. he looks at you with so much gentleness, so much affection and love. his gaze becomes sadder when he hears what is on your heart and his heart suddenly tightens at your words. he hates hearing you talk about yourself like that, devaluing you when all he loves about you is what you're insecure about.

“my baby…” he whispers and places his hands on your cheeks, caressing them gently. he wipes with his thumb a tear that has just escaped your eyes. he places a soft kiss on the tip of your nose and smiles affectionately at you.

"i wish you could see you through my eyes". he places another kiss on your forehead. the sun illuminates his face, the waves seem to transport you.

"i fucking love you. like fucking fucking love you. it's me who doesn’t deserve you. it's me who should hate myself for not always making you feel secure about me and our relationship" he explains. "i don't care about ava, you know that. she is absolutely nothing compared to you. it's not her or someone like her that i want. it's you. you're the only one i want and need so badly".

his hands slide to grab yours. "being constantly by your side is the best thing in the world. i don't care if we are in the worst place in the world, in the worst possible situation, as long as i am with you and by your side i know that everything will be fine. there's nowhere i'd like to be without you. it's just impossible. all i fucking want is to stay with you as long as possible."

he smiles brightly at you before finishing. "and your shyness will not change my love for you or how i live my life. i fell in love with you because of this side of you, because you are introverted and you are so much my opposite that i am extremely attracted to you. it's like that. so don't blame yourself, because i don't want you to change that even though it doesn't even bother me a little bit. i love it. i adore you. i love you and i love you. love you and i will always love you"

you sure you look like nothing now. your eyes must probably be puffy and red but that's okay. lando doesn't care too. you can't help but smile at him with all your teeth. “i love you so much lando. i love you with all my heart and that will never change” you whisper against his neck.

he places thousands of kisses on your head, caressing your back. god how much he loves you too, your love is so deep and strong. “hope it'll never change then” he adds and puts his arms around your waist, bringing you as close to his body as possible.

and without a word, in a calming silence, you stay in each other's arms until the sun sets completely. a starry sky now paints the night. you are still glued to each other, your head on your lover's stretched out legs. you admire the stars while he admires you. it's perhaps one of his favorite activities. just looking at you, like the most beautiful paintings in the world. but soon you notice that he doesn't pay attention to the sky and you point this out to him, teasing him.

“look at the sky, it's so pretty” you hum “but you're prettier” he simply retorts, telling the truth. you roll your eyes and let out a small laugh. “never tired of being cheesy” you laugh shyly. “never” he adds while smiling. but he ends up raising his head towards the sky. it is true that the stars are infinitely beautiful. they shine so much, and he can't help but describe them like that, as he describes you the same way. he runs his hand through your hair, eyes anchored to the stars.

“do you see all these stars?” he asks and you hum in response. "i would hunt them all for you if you asked me. i would bring them all to you if that's what you want. ask me to bring down the moon and i would do it without hesitation just for you" he said softly, a silly smile on his lips.

you can’t help but burst out laughing. “how romantic” you tease him but deep down you melt, feeling so confident after all those sweet words. he lowers his head to look at you, smiling fully.

he admires you for a moment, take in your features. his heart never stops beating faster at the sight of you, even after weeks of being in a relationship. and he leans down to finally kiss you, his lips capturing yours perfectly. gosh he loves kissing you so much, he might never stop. he pulls back and pecks your nose.

“love you always, my introvert girl” he smiles softly.

[wannaeatramyeon]

Lookism Guys: I'm disappointed in you

G/N. (Jakey, Sammy, Goo, Gun, Vin, Ryuhei, DG, Johan, Vasco). Masterlists

You're not pissed off. You're much worse, disappointed.

Hands on your hips, finger dangerously close to wagging and lecturing them.

His intimidating presence does nothing to deter how you feel-

Jake's face drops and his eyes fall to the ground.

Whether he thinks he did anything wrong is one thing, but disappointing you is more than enough for him to feel bad.

He bows, bending at the waist a full 90 degrees and then some, and asks for your forgiveness. Face sincere and of utmost seriousness no matter how petty the crime.

Samuel scoffs and leaves. He doesn't need this.

But he tosses and turns that night, daddy and mommy issues playing up. The need for approval and validation from someone he respects gnaws at him, and he doesn't sleep a wink.

The next day he returns to you, bags under his eyes, pretending to be unaffected by your previous disagreement yet trying to get back into your good graces with expensive gifts.

"Disappointed?" Goo echoes, blinking owlishly, as if he couldn't fathom that he could be disappointing to anyone.

He whines and pouts, and is close to throwing a tantrum. Obviously your words having an effect on him.

In the end he does mutter an apology though you doubt the sincerity, especially if the look in his eyes are anything to go by.

Gun ignores you though you see the defiant twitch in his jaw from your words.

He doesn't care, why should he.

Except you catch him staring at you the rest of the day or week or until whenever your ire ebbs away. There's a strange awkwardness to his being, like he doesn't know how he should act around you.

The apology doesn't come if he thinks it's undeserved and unneeded, but he also doesn't want to see that look in your eyes again.

Vin scoffs, pretends he doesn't care. Calls you a nag, a wet blanket, all sorts of frustrating names.

Yet the guilt eats away at him. Your eyes, the playful expression you usually wear is now just replaced with disappointment.

He tries to involve Mary to worm his way back into your good books, she tells him to piss off and eventually he comes to you, tail between his legs and a poorly formed apology (likely as a rap).

Ryuhei's eyes are suspiciously wet. You think he's sniffling, the tip of his nose turned pink and he's trying to keep a brave face but god, he feels like a complete failure.

He drops to his knees and immediately offers to commit seppuku. When you roll your eyes and tell him to stop being ridiculous, he says he will do anything to make this right. That he would rather die than ever disappoint you again.

DG, usually ruled by logic but too often bratty and arrogant, considers whether this is a hill worth dying on. It's not.

Considers whether it warrants an apology, and it does. But does he deliver? Not always. Lets you simmer until he presents you with a grand gesture and a winning K-Pop smile he reserves for award shows.

His charm works on you less than he'd like, but more than you'd prefer.

Johan looks as if he's been slapped, before turning on his heels and leaving.

It takes him a surprisingly short amount of time to come back, feeling contrite. He doesn't say sorry but the unspoken apology runs round and round his mind.

Instead he drifts to your side constantly like a shadow, trying to catch your eye, seek out some of your warmth and hoping for your forgiveness.

Regardless of what it is you're disappointed with, Vasco Tabasco thinks you are the best. A literal angel descended to Earth that has graced his life.

So if you're disappointed then whatever he is doing must be wrong and is worth apologising for.

He does just that. Offers to make up for it however you see fit. Completely heartfelt even if he doesn't know entirely why.

[capslocked]

PART & PARCEL

male reader x sana && tzuyu

18k words

“Is it too late?” Sana asks, and here’s how it always starts with her.

Nevermind that it’s not a question in search of an answer. A normal person could, should, text you. Hey, what’s up? or something equally inconspicuous before turning up the dial, are you busy? can I, like, come over? 

Instead, she’s at your doorstep again, twirling a bundle of honey-blonde between her fingertips as if she doesn't know what all that does to people. Some people say, incorrectly, that these are the hours of the night shared with ghosts. And to that you say: No, these hours belong to Sana, clearly, and apparently nobody fucking else. 

Now in a way, you do get it. It’d be easier to turn back over in your bed and ignore the elegant simplicity of a text message, or one step beyond that, do the unthinkable and finally tell her no, but when she’s standing there - there with that face, like a thousand different excuses or a million little reasons why she needs something from you, right now - and all she has to do is push her lips together, eyebrows going high - 

It is a bit like magic, after all, this feeling when she comes around. 

Everything that happened before - her visits, the first one and then the next - no matter how impossible, gets washed away, and suddenly all you have is her. Her voice, her hair, and a sneaking suspicion that the time apart really isn’t such a bad thing, because you don't always have a guess as to what comes next.

Of course, you were always going to let her in.

“I saw the lights were on,” she adds, starting to shrug off her coat like she knows you will.

“I mean, I’m here,” you say, non-committal.

“Yeah. I can see that.”

The door's half open and the only substantial hesitation you have is when you peer over her shoulder. There’s another girl, propping herself up against the doorframe, with a pretty head of glossy, sable hair falling gracefully down her shoulders, and she looks at least a few years younger than Sana. You smile cautiously at her before giving Sana another, much longer glance. In response, you receive a wink that's as subtle as a brick through a glass window (which only raises more questions). You ask the one that seems most important.

What else would Sana, of all people, possibly want to bring you if not some plaything or another. You've seen it all: girls who liked her money, girls who liked her body, girls who just flat-out liked girls, whatever. The dynamic always seemed to be, as long as everyone is having a good time, nothing to get hung up about - because at the end of the night, everyone comes around to Sana again.

And she comes around to you. 

Why question it.

“This is a little… irregular,” you say with a nod of your chin, as you step back from the door. "Who's the plus one?"

Sana motions the girl in with a sweep of her hand and throws you another disarmingly flirtatious smile - the same one that'd first left you utterly hooked by this strange person, who had, when you first met, walked into your life for five minutes, then fucked your lights out the way she wanted. She goes further with this, of course, teasing a warm smile and slanting an eyebrow.

"I figured I'd bring you a gift," she coos, in this sultry, dusky sing-song of a voice that really needs no followup whatsoever, other than maybe take my clothes off right now, as she makes a show of how she's pushing her shoulders back, like there's an audience to be impressed with the curve of her bust. "Since we were celebrating."

"Uh-huh. What's the occasion?"

"Whatever the hell you'd like," Sana chirps.

With that, she takes you by the collar. And even though the girl she brought is in the middle of, like, peering around curiously in your foyer, Sana leans up on the balls of her feet and kisses you hard. It's a real kiss - no preamble - which is sort of funny, given you would have been more than okay with some. So, naturally, you're caught entirely off-guard. It takes a full ten, fifteen seconds of feeling her hot little mouth pressed insistently up against yours, your mind gone blank with the suddenness of the moment. Your body taking it for granted.

Meanwhile, the other girl blinks - long, dark lashes batting the curve of her cheekbones slowly until Sana has moved to stand in front of her with the full, earnest intention to cup her jaw, tilt her head down a smidge, and kiss her too (very thoroughly, also, in her own way).

Sana lets the girl go with a sharp draw of air and a peck. Then she looks at you, just this side of playful. The way her teeth flash over her bottom lip suggests how she's enjoying, to her bones, this state of affairs: a dalliance with control, with desire, where she can flaunt it.

She tells you to relax, unwind, which you suppose is code for taking another of Sana's friends and bending her over every horizontal surface in your flat and fucking someone the way you've wanted for the last however-long it's been since Sana dropped back into your life. You've done as much. Some rotating cast of characters: Mina, Chaeyoung, Nayeon, the raven haired girl with the perfect tits; some names and faces starting to run together the more Sana pops up at your place with a girl under one arm, usually looking half bored and half shy - or at least putting up some pretense that might justify Sana telling them to strip down while she's already eyeing you with this look like she's wondering which article of clothing you'll be ripping off her first.

"Does she have a name?" you ask, with a nod vaguely in her direction. Of course it's a loaded question. What's her name doesn't matter. You don't know most of their names.

But when you do a double-take, remembering to steal a good look, you're not sure you've ever seen anyone pull off that perfect little white dress quite the way she does - the kind that goes right up the back, tucked under the neck, sleeves coming to a neat point across her fingers. Sana may or may not have a thing for pretty girls in cute dresses, but this is, without question, the most obvious bribe you've ever witnessed in your life.

Sana's still smirking - so much for being considerate, you think for a second, until you’ve got a dainty hand stretched into yours like you’re brushing up with royalty. And well, maybe you’re getting a better look now that she isn’t bathed in the calm, assured wickedness that two A.M. might only ever know - the dark curling like wind around her fingers and down the lines of her spine, cajoling.

She is gorgeous.

And she says - 

“Chou Tzuyu,” in this charming little voice that’s even more mesmerizing than you anticipated, this taut thread winding itself up between the two of you. She says her name with a gentle sigh, a light in her eyes that you know, intimately, not to trust, but you get the sense that she'd rather you make an exception for her - or at least for the night. “Everyone calls me Tzuyu.”

You feel a squeeze at your fingers, an anxious reminder from Sana's thumb, as if she feels the reverie in which you've lapsed. It draws you back, just slightly so.

"Tzuyu," you say, taking mental note of the faint smile that shadows in at the corner of her mouth when you do. "How much do you know?"

She twists in Sana's direction, and oh, look how eager and innocent and coquettish Tzuyu's making herself in front of her, smiling. What do I say, the gesture is asking. You can see her effort to hold back a giggle or two as she bites her lip, trying, as all the pretty girls who come through these doors often try, to come up with something cute and modest and small that'll allow you and Sana to picture exactly the right thing. You can tell when a person is not used to having an audience.

"I know Sana..." Tzuyu's voice trails as she gives Sana a furtive glance. "She talks about you a lot. And I figured, you know."

"What? That we were good friends?"

"Sure," Tzuyu laughs to herself lightly again. "Whatever makes it easier."

Sana has her fingers threaded beneath Tzuyu’s chin, studying her like she’s an artifact that belongs behind glass. Expensive. One of a kind. And oh-so-excessively fragile.

The way Sana touches her, she may be trying to prove the point, guiding her body's angles and edges towards whatever form she sees fit, with just fingertips and the slightest tug, showing you exactly how malleable the girl can be. The look on Tzuyu's face is hardly discomfited when her dress slides past the dips of her shoulders or the slope of her waist, when the fabric gets crumpled in Sana's hand like the most expensive balled-up tissues in the universe. You can't decide what animal comes to mind: perhaps a deer, some cute, unknowingly doomed elk.

"No underwear," you note, watching.

Sana draws herself a little closer to Tzuyu with an appreciative gaze, lips gently landing at her shoulders, neck.

"Why bother?" Tzuyu muses. "What were we going to use them for?"

A pull here, a tug there, and the dress puddles around Tzuyu's feet, silk shimmering like the inky dark of a starless sky. And just shy of a pedestal and perhaps a fucking moonbeam, she's the spitting image of perfection: porcelain skin stretching out over a masterwork of curves and bone and muscle. A sculpture, a study in the form that so frequently leaves people just absolutely dumbstruck and thirsty in their wake.

Sana trails her hand around the width of her hip - drawing your eye along the skin of her leg, up and around the perfectly curved thigh - stopping to splay her fingers just so at the base of her spine, as if in demonstration of ownership. Like this: mine.

"Don't get it confused," Sana tells you. "The whole naive innocence thing is a total fucking misdirection."

"Tzuyu," you say again, this time noticing the way it feels in your mouth, syllables sweet and sticking to its roof like honey - maybe something more of an excuse to move forward and touch her yourself, palm her face, brush your thumb over her bottom lip. A taste, something subtle but intense, spreads to the back of your throat, the moment her teeth graze gently over its pad. "Is that true?"

"Are you asking me what kind of girl I am?"

"I didn't put it exactly like that."

"Just answer, sweetheart," Sana says, brow quirked in a faux-display of nonchalance, fingers still pressed, spreading gently at her neck. She's enjoying this a little too much. Though, you're enjoying this too. It doesn't have to be an either-or kind of scenario.

"It's better if you say it," she adds after a second of consideration, and even though it's obvious by now she's only prodding and that this is a foregone conclusion, Tzuyu puts an emphatic twitch in her lips - red, wet, a vision in crimson - like the thought is deeply troubling and will likely require lots and lots of thorough explanation later.

"Fine, okay, in that case," Tzuyu starts with a weary sigh, and then with a blink-and-you've-missed-it flash of a smirk, there's no way anyone's buying any of this, "I’ll say: I'm whatever kind of girl you want me to be."

Sana was right, and she didn’t even need to go so far as to say it. It’s clear - you want her.

But it's half as easy to pinpoint where it all starts: there's the way Tzuyu melts, sinking just that much further when you guide your hands around the curve of her ribs, fingers following the flow of her soft edges, the slopes and valleys of her breasts, and she parts her lips even before yours touch the seam of her mouth, her breath warm, heavy, the kind of anticipation that sends jolts down her neck, her spine, the body electric - a real live wire.

Or, it's because of the way she likes it - like, really likes it. There's something exceptional in a girl who will wrap her legs around your waist and suck your tongue and whimper just by a feather's touch around her hips or between her thighs, where it's damp and hot and holy shit, this is unreal in a very tactile, visceral way. There's no mistaking the noise for anything but genuine pleasure when Tzuyu's trying, unsuccessfully, to bite down the whine sneaking up her throat and into your mouth - where you're kissing her, still - the kind that presses heavy at the bottom of your stomach.

Or, there's Sana yet, pulling her clothes off, and instead of leaving a trail in her wake, folds each piece neatly until she's bared down to this fine little number of lace and cream-colored silk that'd make your head spin if you weren't, y'know, pretty busy, mouth occupied by Tzuyu's pliant moans, both of your tongues colliding.

"God," Tzuyu groans out quietly as you pin her to the wall, and again after another string of kisses, sucking your lip. 

There are fleeting moments that slip through like sunlight that have you thinking: Right, this was a good idea, nothing other than a sweet girl like this all messed up and squirming with the shallow dig of your nails. But only close to perfect.

Sana will explain it.

"Mm. Not god." Sana is grinning when she leans up for the same kiss, but she takes her time with it: mouth slotted tight against Tzuyu's as her long fingers tangle in the hair at the nape of Tzuyu's neck, working her grip up slowly so that the strain gets more noticeable until the girl is a gasp on a choke of breath. The curve of her back is drawn out by that same hand and her ribs pressed, pert and rosy, into the cool air.

"Sir, and please," Sana then instructs, voice just harsh enough for Tzuyu to understand. 

You might imagine she's also drawing in with her nails, teeth, a full-body drag up her exposed front, like some kind of prize, marking and tasting and fucking every inch. There's a whimper, desperate sound of, yes, right, fuck, please, and sir slipping like a sigh off the edge of Tzuyu's tongue. 

"Or better yet," Sana adds, with another searing press into the junction of her collarbone, "say daddy, please," then follows through on the plea with another slow-pull.

You try not to roll your eyes. It's Sana's kink, not yours. It's a whole thing. And with Sana, like most things, you find it best when you simply play along.

More than that, you indulge her. You both do.

"Okay, daddy." Tzuyu's teeth catch the corner of her mouth in a self-amused bite. Twisting and twisting the swell of her lip further until it snaps forward. "I want you to tell me something," she says, which, for the way this typically goes, is a little more self-assured and pressing than the usual fare. Even Mina, who was perhaps less than enthusiastic about the - uh - title in question, came around eventually when she had Sana's fingers, your cock, all sunk so deep inside her she forgot what any fucking words were anyway.

So maybe Sana does know what she's doing with this one. Maybe you oughta thank her.

Tzuyu just lifts her chin, says, "this isn't what I expected when I showed up here."

"Obviously, it's not," Sana says.

"What I mean is, this is all good fun, of course," Tzuyu explains. A charming indignance that slips past, like the fingers down her belly. She swallows hard, muscles clenching as your palm runs slow over a hip, squeezing. "Though I guessed when we left Sana's, I would've been bouncing on his cock five minutes ago."

Sana's lithe little frame ends up closer - nearly naked in lace and wholly difficult to miss. She's a half head shorter than the girl in front of you, but with a tilt of her chin and a beckon of her hand, it's a powerful look about the lines of her face: eyes slightly hooded, mouth curved and devastating. It's as if, at every hour of the night, the simplest glance will have the fabric of someone's clothing coming undone, regardless.

Tzuyu is just slowly trading looks between the two of you. So curious. "So what then, do I have to do," her words curl like smoke up her throat, "to get fucked by both of you, hm? In, like, the next five or ten more minutes, preferably."

"He's not going to fuck your brains out simply because you ask." Which by the way, is the first real lie Sana tells tonight.

Tzuyu is unimpressed, or maybe she's a stoic. "Clearly," she deadpans.

Whatever the expression is that is fluttering those gorgeous lashes, eyebrows pulled down, adds a faint mark of distrust across her brow. The prettiest scoffs you've ever heard. "Isn't the point to get me spread out on your sheets so you can use me like a little fucktoy?"

A sigh from Sana: heavy, calculated. She does not reply in any obvious way to that, no flimsy assurances that it would be whatever the hell Tzuyu likes (though you think maybe Sana might want to take this whole fucking opportunity, all this thinly veiled begging for it, for the first taste of what will probably be the main thing that'll hold her over the edge of an orgasm or two). 

So, instinctually, Tzuyu pushes it, just enough - she tilts her head, and the motion is followed by a wide sashay of her hips as she gently presses a fingertip to your chest, encouraging a step back to better your balance, like the pull between you has a little more gravity.

"Don't go quiet on me." Another sultry note pulls from her mouth when she guides you another foot - or however many, until the foyer opens up into your living room. The chair, the sofa, a table, you watch her eyes wander like she's mapping the territory. And then finally she drops her hands from your shoulders, reaching instead for Sana, taking her waist in her palms.

Holding her. Kissing her.

There's a delicateness about both of them, clearly, and not only how Tzuyu angles their lips, as if she doesn't fully intend for the two to merge but instead taste the line, test the edges, or something; but Sana doesn't fight this. In fact, when Sana's being drawn gently, but confidently into a deeper, harder press, a very eager give, her eyes slip closed. There's a war, and Sana - though she'd be the last to admit it - is losing.

Tzuyu, at the end of a particularly sharp draw of air, simply turns to you, eyes peeking over the tousle of copper hair atop Sana’s head, and asks: "How does daddy want to play with his toys?"

It clicks in your head immediately: she's a natural, could be an actress, maybe a pro - you have no idea where Sana found her - even if that doesn't exactly match with the diction; daddy, and sir, and the baby-girl pout. There are the things she does to Sana, this slipstream of control passed back and forth and back and forth again - a fevered tugging, the give of one or the other. An entirely different dance. Beautiful, fluid, intense.

Eventually, it lands in your lap. Literally and metaphorically. Tzuyu looks up from where she's kneeling between your legs and with a little pinch of your hips, tells you with that intoxicately sweet, melodic voice of hers, that you seem like the sort who wants someone who just takes initiative.

And she's right.

"May I?" she asks, breathlessly, fingers at the zip.

"Of course,” Sana answers for you, settling into her side like you both belong to her. Like she’s about to enjoy this just as much as you are.

What does the room sound like, the darkness giving away? Everything. The hum of the appliances, the purr of the heat, something in the walls is settling into its final position for the night as the floorboards sigh. Breathing. Listening.

What you don't hear:

Chou Tzuyu moving - whether she shifts onto her knees, or adjusts how her slender fingers fall from the waist of your pants, doesn't matter - no crunch, no shuffle. She doesn't swipe away the hair from her eyes or drag the pad of a thumb over her swollen, bottom lip. All she does is pull, just a bit, and the zipper breaks the silence, comes apart down the way.

Sana clears her throat gently, hoping, possibly, that Tzuyu might be the kind of girl who just loses herself to the moment, caught in the headlights. The way every delicate, doe-eyed girl is supposed to do. Sana likes them a little helpless like that - makes her feel big.

It's too bad really, because Tzuyu doesn’t appear like she's awash with anything in particular. Or at the very least, she's done a fairly convincing imitation of not being the slightest bit off-put, completely disarmed or whatever Sana had been looking to see.

She does look up though. Long, pretty face still managing a bit of devastation from this angle. Those full lips slightly pouted and slick in red: such an inviting color against her pale skin.

"Sana," she coos, eyes wide and brilliant - innocent, yet taunting all at once - and she's deliberate in what she says next, flitting her tongue across her canines to punctuate every sound: "Isn’t daddy going to use me now?"

"Oh." Sana leans in, eyes flicking up at you, Tzuyu's hands, her body, and starts slowly, like she's exacting a punishment, "Tzuyu, baby," her own anticipation beaming off the surface of her thousand-kilowatt grin, "you're going to take that perfect cock," the words dripping off Sana's tongue, heavy, sweet, "you're going to take it, get your pretty little lips all over it sweetie, you're going to show him just how good you can use that filthy fucking hole of a mouth for him. You're going to take him until he cums in your throat, and then you're going to beg him for more. And if you can do that, well. Then we’ll fuck you exactly how you wanted."

Tzuyu blinks - doting and innocent like the angel everyone probably thinks she is.

But then what you've learned about the angels that Sana brings you: they're devils in disguise, well familiar with the sin and lust that resides in these places; sunk into the cushions of the couch, pressed against the cold pane glass of a window, wound tight in the springs of a mattress. You had long thought - and think, you do, particularly when doing the unthinkable - it's easier that way, to leave aside thoughts of right and wrong and ask: Just how far can an angel fall?

"Ah. Perfect," Tzuyu says, sounding like an answer, and her eyes widen as she peels past that band of elastic.

Your cock springs forward and bumps into the pad of her finger, which traces the length of it like it's hers to own, to pleasure.

"God," she hums with satisfaction, and even without looking up, or even before you say a damn word, she draws her tongue up along the underside in one swift, wet lick. "Sana you weren’t exaggerating: daddy's cock is fucking gorgeous."

There is that tiny whine, or more precisely a tiny, oh fuck when Tzuyu curls her hand around your shaft. Sana gives her a push. "Say it, Tzuyu," she all but growls at her.

"Daddy," she says, always pausing on the word. Testing it further. "Please."

"Please," Sana mimics in faux-sweetness, repeating it again once you start to nod.

Not that it changes much - the stare that Tzuyu fixes you is charmingly determined, like a challenge. Then, she inhales.

Deep.

That slide into her mouth is smoother than anything, hot and slippery and oh, right - you remember faintly with a shudder: those pretty teeth hidden away behind a perfectly lascivious mouth, so much that a couple sharp, expert brushes are enough to send lightning dancing along your spine. Sana moves her hands across your hips, to the buttons on your night shirt, working her way up until the fabric has fallen to the side and she can open your chest up to the air, let Tzuyu swallow the rest.

This, Tzuyu likes. "Ah," she gasps around you, or she tries to, your cock propped up on her soft little tongue.

She likes the way that feels. The way you fit in her hands, her mouth. And it shows. Her posture curls deliciously, under the satisfaction of her lips wrapping finally having something to wrap around tight, tight, tighter - under Sana's roaming touches, the skirting of her nails down Tzuyu's chest, reaching with slow deliberation across her stomach until there's a whisper of skin across sensitive flesh.

���She’s so fucking wet,” Sana tells you, smiling at Tzuyu from above and fitting a fingernail between her teeth. "Good fucking girl, aren't you Tzuyu?"

The moan that leaks out around the weight of your cock is pure. Pure lust, pure pleasure. Pure perfection. Her tongue flattens beneath you and finds you surging even deeper, a firmer slide of Tzuyu's wet lips that brings you right into the roof of her mouth - as she twists her face around you, a soft scrape against the inside of her cheek.

You sigh.

And Sana sighs back.

"Of course. Always such a hidden talent," she notes, as Tzuyu's perfect mouth moves and plucks and teases your nerves, twirling her tongue around your tip. Again as she swallows you down, slow, savoring.

“Tell me,” you say, because the heat of Tzuyu’s mouth is starting to remind you of a daydream, “how exactly do you know each other?”

"Work," Sana answers, flatly.

"Like-"

"Yup."

"She sings?"

"She does - rather, she will." Sana glances sidelong with a bit of a grin. "You have no idea what that tongue can do to people when it's got some good backing tracks, when it knows a goddamn fucking thing about rhythm. Speaking of," Sana looks down at where Tzuyu has her silky brown head of hair bobbing between your legs.

And then it's clear what she means, Tzuyu humming and rolling your shaft through the flat of her tongue. It's all slick, soaking heat and the tension building and building in your balls, aching, just absolutely desperate for more friction, to be taken and used and stuffed in her throat - or just more of this.

"Here," Sana's fingers are hooked in your pants, helping them off your legs, your ankles, pulling you further to the edge of the sofa. Let me, she's telling Tzuyu, this slight murmur of want she just can't wait on.

"Wait, I'm -" Tzuyu attempts, pulling her lips off the curve of your cock, to where pre-cum is weeping out of its tip, and she kisses it so very tenderly, going back for round two. Round three. She floats her fingers up over her eyebrows, into her fringe, all to tuck some dark, wispy hair gently behind her ear when she starts to hollow her cheeks and again suck your cock in earnest.

Until -

"Tzuyu," Sana reprimands her, "don't play, daddy's got his work cut out for him tonight. So be a good girl, and let me show you what he likes."

It takes a second, maybe three. It might take longer if Sana didn't have her fingernails digging into her thighs, sliding further to grab hold of Tzuyu by the hair and pull her lips off your shaft. There's a thin trail of spit coming off her mouth and stringing across you. Sana closes her fist in the back of Tzuyu’s hair and doesn't so much as blink while studying the look on her face: lips glistening, just absolutely needy, like she can't help the whimper in her throat.

"Hm?" Sana cocks her head to the side.

"But... sir."

"You are his toy," Sana explains, flashing her eyebrows because apparently it needs to be said, "not the other way around."

And it may be the first time you've seen it happen since Sana walked in with Tzuyu and declared her intentions: the fluster, the pink spread across Tzuyu's features like some scarlet-lettered stain. Defenses dropped like a draw-bridge. She's not quite every bit as cool and composed as she wants the two of you to think she is. (They never are.)

But the fact that Tzuyu's coy little smile returns into her lips - how she's wiping the spit off her mouth with the sharp edge of her hand and pointing your cock in Sana's direction with a delicate, arched brow, how she then moves on, untangling herself from Sana's grasp, eyes heavy, but on her - is a marvel in and of itself.

It’s an amusing surprise, a welcome one, for the simple reason that Tzuyu keeps showing both of you that she can have anything she wants exactly like this: wrapped around a slender fingertip, flushed and helpless, and without breaking a sweat. 

"Have you considered daddy wants both our mouths on his cock and maybe a few less words?" Tzuyu scoffs. And even though Sana does scoff right back in retort, that's exactly how it plays out.

(And you may, upon occasion, reflect: you're a real lucky bastard.)

Sana always puts on this act. One that you’ve learned to see right through. 

Like she isn't too eager to follow the momentum, that she hadn't just been just as impatient to touch you - to be on her knees with Tzuyu, all aside this beautiful girl who gives you a pretty smile when her tongue finds the base of your cock. Who likes being bossed around but can just as easily turn her face towards yours - in what seems almost like a taunt - as if saying: You know what else I like? to be challenged, and sometimes when the mood’s right, pushed and punished. 

But Sana doesn't let you see what kind of resolve she has until she's gone another minute, licking, lapping her tongue around your cock - this is her idea, after all. The little white dress in a heap, the adoration and worship that comes with fucking girls she knows are the prettiest things to see ruined.

Listen - even if Sana’s veneer is as blatantly obvious as it is shatterably thin, she’s no less dangerous. 

When she first pushes the very head of your cock inside her mouth, and just that - because why rush it, she's so fucking perfect with those pretty lips - the rest of your brain is shouting something to the tune of fuck me sideways because she knows you better than anyone, knows what really gets your blood burning. 

A few slow brushes, one kiss, this lick that goes bottom to top and over and around. It’s like she's testing the surface, dragging her lips across your aching cock as she settles on a rhythm, a tempo that starts to mirror the movements of Tzuyu's hand.

Tzuyu lets you see: this slow twist, this slide of skin up and down the length of your shaft, her soft fingers rubbing tight circles up and down the path of her palm until it meets Sana’s mouth. And like it’s the most simple thing in the world, she dips down, finds a place at the base of your cock, where Sana’s lips can’t quite reach, and drops a hot, messy kiss right across the spot.

Fuck.

She kisses you everywhere.

"Sana," you start to say, and she looks up through the strands of blonde fallen slightly in front of her face. Her lips sink further down the length of your cock - until she hears your breath catch in the bottom of your throat. Until she’s pulling you up and out, again, just barely past her teeth.

Fuck.

"Mm." She hums it right into your skin, and her eyes are hooded, dipping right down with another pull of spit, and then another, before her lips are at the tip once more, flicking across the slit with her tongue - wet and rough.

"Sana," you try again, biting into your lip as you reach a hand into the gold locks of hair framing her deceptive, pretty little face, and tug, a warning, a reminder. You need. It's too early for you to be repeating yourself, and Sana knows that.

A pop, the release of her mouth slipping off the top of your cock, and Tzuyu moves - wrapping her lips tight and silken around the sides, the rest. It all happens in an instant. You're being taken with the sudden, harsh suction of one mouth, the other, fluid and slipping back and forth again and again.

Sana's nodding along, impressed, as she watches Tzuyu take you - completely, nose to your hip - and has a glint of pure hunger shining through her eyes when you hiss, when she kisses along the lines of Tzuyu's stretched lips. There's another flick of a tongue, and you can feel Tzuyu moan something muffled and choked, a frantic pulse at the base of your spine - pressure gathering like a fucking flood.

"Just how you like it, hmm?" Sana says, her breath warm on your balls as she seals her own mouth right over the base of your shaft. And you swear there's something about this: the drag and suck of both their lips as your hips stutter forward, the feeling of them pressed together in a perfect line, heads tilted and mouths fucking dripping with saliva and sin - your hands, resting on the backs of their heads as they're returning you these greedy little moans that vibrate off the top of your cock and nearly kill you in the process.

“Tell me,” Sana adds, dragging a hot, hazy kiss over the sensitive skin up your shaft. "How's daddy feeling? Hmm? Feels nice and perfect, doesn't it. Feels like you could just let go and release, a hot, sticky load of cum, right down her fucking throat. I know she’ll swallow every drop."

"Fucking hell, Sana-"

Sana doesn't exactly answer to your begging, only hikes Tzuyu a fraction higher over your body to gain better control of the rhythm, and a better view: the hollowed out cheeks, her watery, half-shut eyes, tears welling in her lashes - because the prettiest girls always come apart in the most perfect ways.

You grip into all that silky brown hair, thumb running gently up and over the soft skin behind her ear as she finds an exacting little movement with her lips that will have your spine twitching uncontrollably as you fuck deeper down the perfect arch of her throat, Sana keeping rhythm, guiding you all the way in - a searing heat, and then a new rush of saliva dripping off Tzuyu's chin and back down into the tangle of tongues, fingers, throats, mouths.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

The pair of them. The things they're doing.

"Or maybe," Sana muses, tilting her head on an angle that suggests she's weighing her options, and then, massaging a quick, firm twist into the very base of your cock she finally lets spill: "You could make a mess of that perfect face," Tzuyu's faint whimper hardly slips out unnoticed, "I'd hold her hair for you while you cum all over her - how about that baby, should we make a big mess of your pretty face?"

The whimper grows louder - Tzuyu moans long and low, right up against the tightening tension gathering between your hips, right as your balls pull, that familiar coil about to break - and, god, if there's some part of you committed to holding the moment, waiting and wanting to stay in the vision of these two perfect mouths pressed together, it's a fleeting and useless notion - but, as usual, Sana already knows.

The way they're blowing you in perfect tandem, their mouths locked together, kissing around your shaft as they continue to pleasure you, filthy and open - a little more, the thought percolates, a little longer, to let the pressure swell.

"Sir," Tzuyu says, swallowing her next breath, and that's the first you've heard her sound like that: whining, pleading.

She slaps your cock against her lips, her tongue - it's all so wet with spit and precum and slick that her chin is coated, her fingers. A demonstration of what you should have already known: Sana's girls aren't just straight down the line. They want the messy, roughness that comes with the sin; the split in the seam, the wail, the raw, uncut want.

You watch Tzuyu’s lips curl, this quiet smile pressed against your cock, and after a slow draw of air, they fall open again. Asking, "aren't you going to fuck your toy's slutty little mouth?"

The silence of the night swallows up the sounds of Sana's low chuckle and the responding squelch of her fingers tearing free, her hand trailing after. Here’s three bodies in the otherwise ordinary emptiness of your living room, on the edges of the leather sofa, so completely drenched in anticipation and hunger.

There’s a flash across Sana's rounded cheeks, hot, like she's just this small space shy of smirking, or giving into something, you don't know. Tzuyu, however, you've got a fairly clear view of - how her eyes glaze, pupils going wide and dark, staring up at you as she places the shape of your cock so acutely up the length of her perfect features: chin supporting its base, the cute, button-like tip of her nose teasing the soft underbelly of skin pulled taut - a fucked up preamble to whatever the hell it is going to feel like, once she's ready for more.

"Say please, sweetie," Sana says, fluttering her fingers over Tzuyu's neck. And then to you, as an aside: "If there isn't a better way to break in a toy."

When Tzuyu doesn't immediately reply, Sana leans over her, with a fingertip under her chin, guiding her hot, wet lips to the edge of your cock.

"Ask daddy to fuck his filthy little whore."

"Ah," Tzuyu lets out an awkward exhale. "Daddy?" she pauses to swallow, licking her lips, then, with just the slightest inflection, this tight line, right at the border, somehow managing to hit both notes of I'm going to make you beg for it and is it okay for me to be begging you for more: "Please, daddy. Fuck my face."

But then the way she fucking looks - petulant, needy, like if you don't shove your cock down her throat in seconds it could kill her - that's the realest thing you've seen from her since she shuffled through your front door wearing a dress that belongs in someone's heaving, pent up fantasy and left it in a careless pile in the middle of your foyer, tits bouncing on her way into the living room. And somehow, that's a lot to take in: to think this whole debacle has led up to her, this girl you're probably never gonna see again, pressing the pucker of her perfect, pretty lips to the underside of your cock, and -

"Open," Sana cuts in, "your fucking mouth."

Tzuyu gulps thickly and stretches her jaw, blinking expectantly as her pink, slender tongue sticks out the faintest, most insinuating inch.

You lift your hips with one good thrust, the plushness of her mouth becoming soft and velvet as she opens wider, and wider still, and you're balls deep, hilt hitting her lips as she opens her eyes, taking you down her throat, slick and slow.

"Good girl," Sana grins, watching Tzuyu swallow around you. 

You may be buried into her throat but the sound of Sana's encouragement has Tzuyu keening, this wrench in her brow like she wants to focus so fucking badly. Only made worse when Sana bundles a handful of Tzuyu's long, glossy hair into a fist and gets her voice into the shell of her ear. 

"I know you love it, Tzuyu, how he's fucking taking you, huh? That's it. Show daddy how good of a toy you can be."

And oh, the reaction - the very clear one, no less. Tzuyu grips onto the cushion of the couch, a full set of fingers curling around Sana's forearm, any part of you - the one closest and she's digging her sharp nails into your skin and whimpering for Sana to keep talking like her life depends on it.

"Let me see if you can be as good as you think you are," Sana murmurs, and you shift forward again, bucking your hips just barely but getting there, and then there's more, fuck - getting closer to a good steady pace. Slow, forceful. Hitting the very back of her throat, the bottom of her lips.

Tzuyu can only respond by taking you impossibly deep.

"Remember what you told me?" Sana's biting her lip, finding as much satisfaction out of the mere display.

"Mnnph," Tzuyu chokes out before slipping off your cock, only long enough to gasp for another breath, "I said, I said - all the things I would let him do to me." Her voice sounds so wrecked. Broken. Desperate. Filthy, the kind that needs to be fucked. "Please, please," she says again.

"Tzuyu." Sana's fist tightens in Tzuyu's hair, and down Tzuyu goes. "You sounded so sure, baby - when you said you'd making him fucking cum so easy, how you'd make him bust over and over with this mouth, so -"

You're getting too close. It's really not your fault, it's the two of them. Every wince on your face a result of Tzuyu's swollen, shiny lips wrapped tightly around your cock, cheeks flush and hollow with every move of her mouth. She keeps doing this little flick of her tongue as her lips slide around you - even while Sana lifts her jaw up, down, up down, fucking her mouth onto your aching cock with a sort of callous disregard for how it's fucking her up - how it's fucking you up.

"-the prettiest girls make the best fucking cumrags, you know. Really - makes your toes curl," Sana finishes, giving one particularly pointed tilt of her head at the sight of how bad your knees are shaking.

And then, out the corner of her mouth, teeth locked over her lip, because you're so caught up in how good it feels fucking your length through the vice of Tzuyu's mouth, sliding across her wet tongue - "she's not lying baby, is she? Fuck, I bet she feels so fucking good on you doesn't she" - her voice hoarse and desperate, a hint of something caught at the back of her throat like she can almost taste what it's like. What it must feel like.

Sana pushes, and even she can probably feel you pulsing at the way Tzuyu chokes when the tip meets the drain of her throat.

It gets... it ends up too much, too fast. Borderline abusive - and not just the speed, or the sheer roughness - Nayeon was here on her knees, like this, in the middle of the night not too long ago, and deepthroating you is far from the unusual or accomplished, at this point. But, fuck if that isn't something you build up to.

The slight curve of Tzuyu's arms, rising as they tremble with the effort, the little tears that slip down her cheeks, and those lovely sounds she makes. It's not at all intentional - and you're so stupidly certain Sana didn't think you'd be this riled so quickly, like there's not an ounce of willpower in the world that could save you at this point.

And while that's not too surprising on its own - Sana knows you well, this is what she agreed to - Tzuyu must have understood (it was part of the plan, in fact) what she was walking into, what she was signing up for. But fuck it: she was still pretty new, an amateur. And an amateur just wouldn't be capable of doing the things she does, and looking the way she looks, not to the same extent as this.

"Can you cum from nothing but the feeling of daddy's dick hitting your throat? I'll have him sit back and relax while we work," Sana tells her.

It'd make two of you.

"Would you like that?" she's asking you, tilting her head when you've gathered yourself long enough. "No touching, just take my orders while we pleasure you. How does that sound, daddy?"

"Sana, easy," you practically growl, biting down on the inside of your cheek because the twitch in Tzuyu's pulse has you coming far too undone, her chest hitching and lungs heaving and face wet with spit and tears and cum as it's spilling down her chin. You're seconds from telling Sana to dial it back when a low, guttural sound, sputtering, leaves Tzuyu's throat.

The grip in Tzuyu's hair goes loose enough that she pulls herself up, swallowing up as much air as she can. 

And fuck, look at the damage: that swollen mess of her red, glistening mouth; the dark runs of mascara and drying tracks that make a ruin of her face, her neck; a heart-stopping shine of white drool. She blinks the tears off her lashes in a moment.

Sana’s eyeing her over the same way a surgeon might approach a task with a scalpel and a careful hand, or perhaps a fisherman surveying the quality of a catch - before tossing it to the back of a truck to be hauled back home. Like the kind of sight she gets just a little too much satisfaction at. And it's the eyebrow she shoots up into her mess of toffee-blonde hair that asks, quietly, too much?

Fuck. Maybe.

But Tzuyu's eyes shift toward Sana's, and without even an ounce of hesitation - without anything more than a heavy exhale - she opens her mouth again so you can see her tongue run across her top teeth, incensed in her lust. More, fuck me, have me, use me she's saying, telling with you the slight indignance in her eyes that Sana finds perfectly irresistible.

Then, as if unbothered by how far your cock had been slotted in her throat, she swallows. Says, "is that all, sir?"

And the sound that follows it, that shuddering sigh - breaking, cracking, shattering into the calm quiet of your apartment - Tzuyu takes you like it's more than enough. She's swallowing it all back down again.

“Fuck, Tzuyu, you’re-” you try, only to have her moan loud, so loud, when she drags her tongue down your cock and swallows around the whole thing in a way that has you gasping. Your hands end up wound tightly in her hair, weaving through the smooth waves, knuckles straining when it really sinks in. Just how deep down her throat you go, so perfectly deep, the stretch of her lips holding on the side of a grimace because she needs it that way. She can't have it any other.

"Go on," Sana murmurs into the side of your face, drawing closer so she's got her nails curled down into your thighs, leaning in to place a wet, hot kiss into your cheek. "C'mon baby, she'd told me she'd let you do anything - said she'd swallow everything, like the fucking cockslut she is."

Sana's chin digs against the bone in your shoulder, eyes unwavering on where you disappear over and over inside Tzuyu's throat. And it's not just that - Tzuyu's hair clenched tight in Sana’s one hand, the other curled hard into a fist around the base of your cock, her harsh breaths washing over the bare skin of your neck. It's fucking indecent, how needy she's gotten. How needy she always gets. You can feel her greedy little lips finding your ear and biting just shy of savage enough to break skin, and licking - flicking across the vein beating down in your throat, and then -

"That's right," Sana says with a low growl when you look at her. "Cum."

An impoverished sound rips right through your chest. Spreads through you like wildfire.

And just like that, you're spilling inside her, thrusts growing unsteady and lost in the wet, searing heat of Tzuyu's perfect, wet lips, slapping and sliding into her throat, spilling on her tongue with every surge of pleasure drumming in your blood.

Tzuyu sinks down further. So deep that the brush of the back of her throat feels like a hand on the hilt of a knife, tearing into the ends of your nerves, where they’ve come alight and been set ablaze.

Sana picks up again whispering into the cuff of your ear. It makes your head feel like it might explode. And you're almost entirely certain that's what will actually happen, when the combined pressure between your ears and that of your cock becoming so desperately spent builds and builds and doesn't stop, as though waiting. 

Biding time for some perfect snap.

Only, a tickle at the back of Tzuyu's throat has her choking out. The same uncontrolled way your hips start to falter - shaky, jerky motions instead of any precision or rhythm - and you're tilting and winding your head in circles, jaw tensed, squeezing her scalp and oh, oh fuck. Tzuyu's mouth slides itself all the way off you in one hurried gasp, then two and three, just barely giving her a chance to steady herself, all while you're still leaking thick, white cum all over the slick swell of her bottom lip, up over the ridges of her elegant features, the curves of her cheeks, the high arches of her brows.

Look - you're cumming all over Tzuyu's face. You’re cumming all over her pretty face and she just takes it.

She's, fuck - she's so, so good. And not just because her mouth is fucking perfection, or her eyes are all at once bleary but wide open, watching you twitch, her own cheeks flushing as she stares up at you - trying desperately to breathe, taking a quick lick off the end of your cock, flitting her tongue between her knuckles, because apparently another taste can't hurt.

"Ugh," Sana hushes, right into your neck, "would you just fucking look, see that - god, Tzuyu, how does it feel, does he taste as good as you hoped he would?"

There's a subtle, unmistakable bob in Tzuyu's throat as she's swallowing everything down, the evidence, and a small flash of her tongue. "Good, mmn-" and you can see how she struggles in her restraint to simply say so, to let her hand drift to the 'V' between her thighs and sate that ache.

But even if her body seems ready for more, Sana's finger finds its way underneath Tzuyu's chin to prompt, with one, simple command, "let's get you cleaned up before we give you what you came for. Go on, get our little girl up to the shower, won't you daddy?"

-

It's a minor miracle the three of you make it upstairs and down the hall without so much as a trip or stumble, the girls with their fingers woven together and hips swaying as you all stagger up. It's a minor miracle you don't pin either of them against drywall or up against a doorway or do any of the number of filthy things on the mind of a man just fucked, still coming down, with two gorgeous, perfect faces - two perfectly sculpted asses - all in arms' reach.

The bath mat is still bunched at the back of your bathroom door. Still damp from the last shower - Sana's last morning here - which you have to pry apart just a little so the two of them can file in.

And well - it does happen. Eventually.

At the sink.

Just inside the en suite of your bedroom.

With Sana, being the way she is.

While the faucet in the shower starts up a shallow stream of water - tap running warm, steaming the length of the mirror and condensing the glass that Sana will soon have Tzuyu's face up against if she has any say in the matter.

"Tzu," Sana says, carding a hand through her hair and bringing a damp washcloth up to the bend of her jaw. There's a slow trace of fingertips across the lines of her neck. "Keep your eyes right on his while I clean you up, ok?"

And then there's the mirror in the center. The three of you arranged - a sort of hierarchy - with Sana stepping forward and adjusting her stance in order to survey, and clean the mess she's made. (What you've made.)

In profile, you can't exactly make out a distinct detail about Tzuyu's face in the reflective surface, only the silvery blur that is the curve of her neck, and the silhouette of the small frame that her long, slim legs form against the cabinet. But the idea's always the same - she's being used like a perfect canvas. Like an empty, ready-to-use doll that you can twist and turn in the ways you want until all your control breaks and you're just fucking into her, or having her lick and suck all over Sana's gorgeous fucking tits while she's bouncing in your lap.

Whichever happens to come first.

"You missed a spot," Tzuyu tells Sana, as though she hadn't missed several - her head tilts in your direction, eyes wide still, endless in depth. Her mouth gives away what's already burning its way through her blood. "Maybe another pair of hands will help?"

"Mine are a little rough around the edges," you explain, coming in close. The bathroom is this tight, congested space, but at the right angle there's plenty of room, even if your hips knock slightly into Sana's body. Tzuyu's delicate body already has her back flush against the sink basin. "You want to feel them?"

She shakes her head, and even though the hunger on her tongue hasn't been satisfied, even after having a good fill, there's something else she'd rather have now.

"I think," she starts, her words cut off by a hitch of breath when Sana's lips travel to the very tips of her hair and work their way up to the soft skin behind her ear. "Rough is good, when... when I'm being," Tzuyu's closing her eyes - partly so that she doesn't fall off the edge so easily, partly to lean into the sensations of two warm bodies, all attention placed solely on her.

"When you're being worked over?" Sana offers.

"Ngh," she responds - with an attempt, as best as she can, at a smile. And then there's one, light, teasing stroke across her jaw, her mouth. Sana's thumb pressed gently into the crease. "When the fucking gets..." and you'll have to fill the gap - finishing her thought with your hands slotting themselves onto the gentle arch of her hips, pressing a kiss that doesn't even come close to satisfaction on the supple dip of collarbone.

She lets out this pretty sound at the feel of your lips, Sana's, all ghosting down her throat.

"Hard and deep?" you say. Sana smirks at this - continues the effort, "A little fucking nasty, huh, sweetheart?"

"Mhm." Tzuyu is, above all else, a little helpless. “Because - you know me so well.”

But make no mistake: Tzuyu is exactly where she wants to be. With the heat radiating off her bare body, she leans into it all, only flinching when your teeth catch her nipple - when Sana's tongue laps a rough circle over the other. The scene, the feelings, all of it orchestrated precisely - these are the things she likes, maybe loves even.

And after the soft sounds slip through her lips, a moan and another hum, she finds her words and voice, "hard and deep and, rough and, ff-"

"And?"

The quick brush of your tongue flickers across the hard tip. The sensation draws from Tzuyu this very faint cry and the exhale of a word: "Fast."

"Naughty little thing," Sana presses into her jaw, pulling back to regard you both. To lift a finger, wet the pad with her tongue - and reach down, down, down until her fingertips brush the very line of her thigh, into the slick between her legs. "I love it when girls get all messy."

"Please," is all Tzuyu has to say, barely anything but, as Sana's finger drags slowly inside her folds.

"Patience baby," she murmurs into Tzuyu's open mouth. The exchange is swift but thorough; you watch, all tongue and spit, and your fingers twitch with a sense of loss. "Why don't you remind me how this went last time?"

"Mm, listen here," Tzuyu says in an astute breath, the sound of it like tables turning. There's a firm pull on your wrist - the grip on it guiding you, encouraging you, just where she wants them, into the band of lace around Sana's impossibly narrow waist. You feel Sana sigh in relief, shiver at the touch of a warm palm up against her thighs, and into a pulse-wet cunt, as though the slightest touch will kill her. "I think you might be remembering wrong, Sana."

"And why might that be?"

"Weren't you the one begging me? When I had two fingers up your cunt in your apartment," Tzuyu presses forward, voice lilt and darkening like ink, and Sana whines and crumbles in her palms, knees buckling when there's one sudden and rough slide of fingers right on the base of her spine.

"Yeah?" Sana asks with a rising blush, already knowing the answer - it's her fatal flaw: she's all sharp edges and pointed teeth, right up to the point there's a finger at her own throat, a cock in her hands and a girl working at her clit until she's drooling. "Are you suggesting I'm easy? Is that where you're heading with this?"

Tzuyu's leaned up against the counter, turning Sana's slender frame around in her hands, until she has her fingers up on the over the wire of Sana's bra, palms hot beneath the thin cups, feeling for her nipples, and the change in dynamic is as palpable as the steam rising in the room.

"Let’s not put words in my mouth," she responds simply, dropping another kiss into the back of Sana’s hair. There's another one laid along the sweep of her neck, like a careful bite, and with a lift of a brow, a look that tells you what you've always known, "but if you’re asking, then sure, the sluttiest of all sluts. Easy," she pulls the cups down Sana’s chest, "as fuck."

It gets to her, clearly, as if that moan falling out of Sana's parted lips could mean anything else.

"Daddy?" Tzuyu asks, because apparently she's enjoying the bit, easing into all parts of the character. She can't seem to contain her grin.

"What is it, sweetheart?" you ask, dipping your finger down into Sana's cunt, and fuck - the girl is so, so slick for it. She needs to be taken and torn, that much is clear. Her whimpers don't get softer as your hips drive into her stomach, pinning her between the two of you.

"Is she always this much of a bratty tease? Or is that just how she gets when she gets all worked up over your perfect cock. I know she's aching to feel it stretch out that tight little cunt of hers-

"It's never been all that clear," you answer, before Tzuyu can start to say anything further. A moment of composure, in case Sana wants you to step in.

Except that, she doesn't exactly interrupt the play you and Tzuyu are setting up: "So," Tzuyu remarks instead. "Just for me then."

"It's possible."

The room suddenly feels very full, very small.

"Right. Okay. Well then," you say - watching carefully, when Tzuyu gives you an appraising glance. Sana squirms again beneath the pressure of all these fingers printing over her sensitive skin - she'd love to fuck this. Or be fucked.

"That means you'll have to take good care of your needy little princess, won't you daddy?"

It's surprisingly fitting.

-

Though it hasn’t been that long, all things considered.

Not since Sana effortlessly waltzed her way into your life. And slightly less-than-that, the time it took her thereafter to find herself bouncing in your lap and tugging at your hair while you struggled for breath between her tits. This perfect storm, caught somewhere between laughing and choking and definitely, definitely falling.

It's been a year, maybe. If that. But that's plenty to know.

Know every tilt of her mouth, every sly grin. The different moans that shake loose from the curve of her lips.

Know what it means when Sana's palms hit the tiles of the shower wall, fingers splaying as she goes quiet and submissive, letting out the barest noise of frustration as Tzuyu spreads her tongue over the pucker of her ass - know that the knuckle you curl up in her cunt has her that much closer to unraveling in a stream of whimpers, needy fucking pants and a hoarse sound of gratitude.

Ostensibly for getting her so perfectly, perfectly raw.

"Fuck, yes, that," Sana barely manages, between the messy swipe Tzuyu's tongue makes over her hole. Just this thorough lick, drawing tight, swirling circles around her, lapping at the wetness before making a hot and steady pass over the sensitive stretch of skin, drenching it in spit until Sana's scrambling against the hard surface.

She's not close to going quiet: her cheeks look rounder, like she can hardly keep her noises under control as Tzuyu eases a single fingertip inside the tense muscle of her rim and uses the stretch and warmth of the water raining down her spine, to slip in deeper. Sana's sighing as Tzuyu eats her like an act, an invitation.

You push your fingers deep, deeper, slick, pulling, rubbing, coaxing Sana's mouth apart even as your lips press wet into her cheek. She groans louder, needier, with your hand flexing up a three-finger graze over that bundle of nerves. The kind that makes her back fucking arch.

"You," Sana sputters open like a struck match, burning bright in the steam-cloaked shower, "you, you, you," and it’s not really clear who she’s cursing, "going to - you're going to - you're going to make me-"

"Oh no," Tzuyu sings, starting to straighten herself out - until she’s reminding Sana that she’s the smallest of the three of you and in a possible sort of danger.

She reaches an open palm into the stream of water and splashes off the slick running down her mouth, her chin, her neck - gaze anchored to Sana's trembling figure. It's just one, heavy exhale into the hot, hazy air: "You've got it all wrong.”

Sana twists her head around, face still so wildly attractive amidst the look of worry and that flush of pink taking over from the bottom half. The tiny, imperceptible dip in her brows.

But before she can give voice to a complaint, Tzuyu has her spun by a rough grip around her waist, pinning her back to the tile - water beating down the rise of her breasts and the tops of her shoulders.

"If you're going to cum baby, it'll be all over his thick cock, getting your whole cunt so stretched and stuffed full it'll feel like he's cumming up inside your guts."

You and Sana share this wistful groan of a sigh after Tzuyu wraps her long fingers around your cock, aims you true, and brings you close. Closer. Until you can feel Sana's pulse at her cunt, lips wet and slippery and dripping, just a few inches from where the tip of your cockhead nudges the insides of her thighs. Sana's stomach is seizing in a fluttering of heat and -

"Do you like hearing her beg? That's good. Because this girl's gonna do everything she can to make sure you fuck her raw before you even let her come," Tzuyu's voice lowers, a deep register. "How long can you last, Sana?"

Sana gives you this look, all anticipation and pleasure, holding it for longer than is strictly necessary - and then, her pert little mouth falls open, keening, hissing out a shallow, almost painful, "fuck" the moment you bend at the knees and slip inside.

The feeling that washes over you is a beautiful elixir of relief, an indomitable kind of want, tinged with something heavier, and with just the tiniest hint of longing in the sense that this is not enough, nowhere near enough. It never is.

"God, Sana," is all you manage. All you want to.

Sana doesn't wait around any longer before giving you an impatient shimmy of her hips, fucking herself further down the length of your cock, like she wants to choke on it. And the feeling of it, well, she does it well - the tight warmth swallowing you to the base, her cunt squeezing you all at once, slick and smothering. Fuck, it's all in her eyes. How badly she wants to be held down, split apart. How tightly your fist finds itself locked around Sana's long, wet strands of golden hair as Tzuyu closes any semblance of distance - brushing her lips over where she can tease Sana's open and slack mouth, licking down inside, panting.

"Baby, you are so close, I can feel you trembling," Tzuyu teases, running her fingers up Sana's stomach, cupping steady the breast she can fit in her palm. She drops another messy kiss on Sana’s throat and hums: "Go ahead, cum. I'm sure he doesn't mind.” 

"You're such a prissy fucking- nnh-" Sana's words skirt right over Tzuyu's fingertips before they're shoved roughly across the swell of her lower lip and into the back of her mouth. If Tzuyu's intent was to prove a point, she's about as successful as can be - Sana can only gag quietly around her digits, working her jaw over them.

"Sana, shh-shh-shh, baby, don’t fight it; just cum around around his cock, don't put yourself in a corner and try to play games - he'll fuck you right, until you scream, I promise, and-"

It hardly ever takes much. That's something you've come to appreciate: Sana can't ever help it. With the way it actually feels, you pressing right up against where the rest of her cinches so impossibly tight. She was practically teetering on the edge, on the very cliff and within reach of falling right off of it the instant you fit the very hilt of your cock up the molten-hot stretch of her perfect cunt, sliding, fucking into her while water sprays all over her quivering body, so soft beneath the wash of rain.

One of Sana’s long legs gets wrapped around your waist and you can feel her nails start to dig through the muscles in your shoulders.

Tzuyu smirks right into Sana's temple, biting at the slickness of her skin, running the curve of her thumb around the length of Sana's jugular, and sucking with her teeth when Sana cries out. "How does our girl feel wrapped around you? Wet, huh? Needy?"

"Unbelievable," you answer honestly - and maybe that's the point; Sana's pussy is incredible. Hot and silky and absolutely unreal. There’s no question, whether she's a work of art, or if she'll fuck you up, but you love that part.

“Ruin her for me, won’t you?” Tzuyu prompts, with that twinkle of mischief you're rapidly becoming accustomed to. "She looks even prettier when she's fucked out. I know you know that."

She does, she does, she does.

Your hips snap, up, fuck in - Sana mewling around the shape of Tzuyu's first two fingers - then back, drawing the motion slow, long, full - until you’re crashing forward and sinking up into that warmth you know is spreading across every inch of Sana’s body, swallowing her up inside-out as her legs start to shake and give and her tongue laps recklessly along the outline of Tzuyu's knuckles. 

Sana knows she likes to play at coy and control, but this is never part of the act - your cock fucking her submissive pussy apart - it’s hard to argue she doesn’t love how you can come to own her: hot and fast and filthy, leaving her breathless and desperate, every thrust into her tight cunt punctuated with some pretty whimper. And here, she just… there isn't the luxury, there's nowhere to hide.

Nowhere to run or shy or look away.

Tzuyu curses when finally Sana bites down, part of a long sequence of reflexes that bloom from the depth you fuck up into her cunt. And with her voice back in her throat (Tzuyu's fingers shaking out the sharp pain) she fucking whines into it, unable to stop the steady line of nonsense tumbling past her lips, incoherent except for the single-minded purpose of her own release.

"Fuck, daddy, fuck," Sana repeats in the same way she always does, getting fucked, the letters collapsing into each other. "I'm cumming, fuck, fuck, so fucking wet. God, you're, fuck, right there, oh - I'm cumming, daddy, I’m fucking cumming," is the all further she gets, muddied with the sound of your slicked-up thighs moving in quick rhythm with the beat of your heart, slapping loudly against her skin - loud enough so that the neighbors can probably listen in through paper thin walls.

Then she goes silent, face painted with it all. She isn't crying, the tears won't come, but she's gone this quiet sort of wide-eyed that matches the way she's mouthing, cumming, over and over, you’re pulling me a-fucking-part.

And you believe her. You have to.

Just look at the way her legs are doing all the wrong things. Thighs tensing taut, muscles giving out - she’s slipping down the tiles, back bending and flexing and going limp all at once. Tzuyu's already moving, scooping her up like it's something rehearsed, before you even have to ask, "Tzu, help me hold her up, won't you?"

“Tzu, huh?”

It's not much, but it is worth noting: how Tzuyu, her fingers curling and interlacing between Sana's, holds the girl like she's breakable. Tenderly, cradling Sana's small body against her chest.

"Do you slip into pet names and all that with every girl Sana brings around? Or am I," and when Tzuyu tilts her head, her smile has this very palpable bite, "the exception?"

"Every pretty girl thinks they're special, sweetheart."

Tzuyu just glimpses one downward look into Sana, shivering, riding her orgasm down into nothing, and drops a kiss into her hair. A gentle chuckle: "And when have I ever given you a reason to doubt it?"

"Shameless," is all Sana offers up, beyond exhausted, trying and failing to take more than a passing, somewhat disgruntled interest in the scene unfolding around her, while she clings to the strength Tzuyu and the tile and your hands are putting into her body.

Meanwhile Tzuyu, this devil of a daydream - this tall, skinny thing of long hair and smirking lips and cheekbones as sharp as her wit, has her gaze locked. Still curious, and all but relentless - there's more she's dying to say. It seems almost impracticable that such a lovely woman would really be this way, weapons concealed under all that good-girl charm. And in its most uncomplicated form, that's what it is: an open invitation.

You've only managed the vaguest outlines, after all. "Do you mind?" you ask again.

The next movements feel more elegant than they probably are. Cradling Sana's limp body between you, finding a steady hold.

There’s a slight shuffle to discover a proper balance, a hand slapping the glass of the shower door, and yeah, Sana's fucked out. Slurring out sounds that might resemble the shape of words if she had the presence of mind. The rest are whines and whimpers, obscene in all ways.

“Baby,” Tzuyu tells Sana in a growling kiss to the back of her ear. "Keep your fucking legs up."

(That’s a cue if you were looking for one, to get your arms fastened around Sana's small waist as she leans heavy into your chest.)

"More," The girl in your arms starts to complain, when you truly start fucking her.

"Hurt - hnn, please, more - fuck - harder," and all those sharp edges, that arrogance and conceit, it's all gone. Her pupils are blown out, an animal-like-desire set in its place - these are your invitations to wreck her, you realize, pushing so deep into her well-fucked cunt that she arches, and that her head knocks against Tzuyu's, that the small room is entirely empty save for these movements under the metal cloud of shower water, falling like rain.

This is all there is. 

Tzuyu, smirking like she herself might get off on this. 

Sana, begging.

And when Tzuyu buries a hot smile at her throat, nibbling at the skin - urging her, urging you, this sharp, "now give her the fucking dicking of a lifetime, will you?"

When Sana’s reduced down to her pleas of, please, harder daddy, and deeper, god, I can feel you so deep -

Well,

You’re all instinct. You sink your fingers into the firm skin of her ass, grab at the soft, slippery flesh around her hips. You sink your cock into her hole again and again.

The stretch is obvious and absolutely devastating, making Sana cry out and muffle her face in your shoulder. She makes a weak sort of sound around your neck - it could be anything, maybe please don't stop, or maybe please do - it doesn't matter.

"You look incredible like this baby, does he fuck you well?" Tzuyu croons, curling around her so her head rests on her shoulder - eyes watching Sana, meeting yours. "Oh, come on, aren't you always telling me about how it makes you feel - all this, full and hot and better than anyone? Now's your chance, no hiding from him. Or me."

"It's so, god it's - I -"

"Come on," Tzuyu squeezes out one long, eager moan with her hand dropped onto Sana's breasts, pulling and kneading like she owns it. "Tell him to cum in you baby, like the good fucktoy you are, let him cum up into that creaming pussy until you’re all sticky and leaking cum all over, just the biggest fucking mess."

There is measurable irony, you suppose, in how Sana brings these friends of hers back with the clear expectation to be fucked and torn apart, how they each want the same, all wanting to get her unraveling and her knees buckling. Only Tzuyu manages, more efficiently than anyone you've ever seen, to leave her all wanton and squirming against your hard, relentless thrusts into her needy cunt.

It's easy: this isn't difficult, there is nothing hard about falling for each and every promise her face has to offer - knowing her body's secrets and drawing the story out, line by line, so you can fall in love with it over and over, all while Sana starts to go helpless at the shape of your cock filling up that tiny, wanting cunt.

So you cum. Inside her. In one final push, filling her completely.

Sana opens her mouth like she's trying to say something - say yes - say daddy, say fuck yes daddy.

"That's it," Tzuyu strokes down Sana's belly. "I knew it - now keep your pretty thighs shut. Can't let even a drop out, understand?"

"Yes, fuck. It's - fuck - good, he feels," Sana finally sobs, chest heaving as you grind the last little bits of cum deep, so far and hot as it can get. All the way in. Where it's hot and wet and throbbing and slick.

Where it should stay, because you never pull out. You savor the last bit of your pulse, sporadic and lethargic. Because in truth - your mind is made and your mouth won't say it because you don’t need to.

Tzuyu's wringing the water out of Sana's hair, picking the strands into careful folds. "Alright then," and her grin is positively lecherous.

There's a bench in the corner of the shower where you eventually arrive, panting now that you realize it, and Sana makes herself at home right in your lap, face buried in your shoulder. Grinding her hips down in this almost imperceptible circle, circling back and feeling. Holding you inside and murmuring into your collarbone.

(Fucked, Sana is simply and unfairly beautiful.)

It’s all in that exhale of a moment, when Tzuyu catches water in cupped palms from the shower-head, wiping away what stray tracks of soapiness left on Sana's shoulder-blades and breasts and thighs. Her hands all up and down her body, sudsing the crease between leg and torso, down lower still, around her sensitive pussy and her folds.

You wonder if she can hear you swallow.

"Maybe we should actually wash up before we go again?"

-

The first thing Sana's free hand goes for when she stumbles through the threshold of your bedroom is a hair band you didn’t know she was storing in the top drawer of your dresser. She fidgets around keeping her towel wrapped tightly around her chest as though modesty were an option at this point.

"What?" she asks, fixing you with a slightly-irritated, slightly-teasing smirk. "You look like you have something you want to say."

"Nothing." You laugh out loud. "It's nothing. I'm just waiting."

She makes this face at you, guilty - so sorry about the contraband - as she twists her wrists and pulls the hair band round her middle-finger, wrapping her palms around her knot of wet blonde and bundling it into a half-assembled ponytail. It leaves the length of her nape exposed and vulnerable, neck flushed pink-from-showering in all the most wonderful of places.

"Waiting," is what she hones in on.

Tzuyu is pulling out of the bathroom. Her hands, washed clean and dried off with a fluffy, off-white towel. When she sets it down, she steps back, leaning on the frame. "He's waiting, for what I wonder?"

She's made of all things smooth-and-sharply-cut. Even from here, even through the sleep-haze fog, the silhouette of her nude figure gives itself to a small sense of anticipation. The long and smooth sweep of her chest, from breast, up and out, and then tapering along down to where her hips flare. She takes a step and then another and lets her fingers ride her side, from the very top of the shallow indentation in the dip of her waist, up. Then the tautness of her abdomen and further still, running slow and over the breast, coming to cup its full weight, pushing the bottom of the curve outwards.

"Waiting to," and she wets her lips in something akin to expectation. "Pound me into the fucking bed?"

You’re smiling when you explain, "I was going to say a request…"

Tzuyu’s dimples deepen. "You mean, like, we can tell you what to do?”

You sit on the bed, which is actually more of a proposition than you realize. "I suppose."

"Sana, sweetie, is there something I should be doing for him," Tzuyu looks up, wearing that trademark kind of playful expression that is definitely deliberate and not at all a tell. "Or maybe I've got this all wrong and you know exactly what you want."

"Well," you manage in reply, sounding surprisingly sane. "Don't both start coming forward with any ideas you have no intention of following through."

"And what if I have no ideas at all? What would you tell me then," is the challenge you find hanging around the slender outline of Tzuyu's wrists, and then at the back of her fingers, as she cards her hands through her hair and pulls it prettily over rise-and-falls of her collarbones, until it's barely curtaining her breasts. 

(Barely.)

She crosses over to the bed - to you and Sana - and without much other movement than that, finds a knee on either side of you to let a lone fingertip skirt the tops of your hips. Flirting with the towel around your waist.

"For the record," Tzuyu says, flicking a glance at Sana and leaning down into your jawline. The palm she slides over your thigh is so warm, so promising of its heat and pressure you'd swear you can almost taste the touch of her. "I never, ever go back on my word."

"Try me," you tell her.

"I do have some, ideas." Every time her fingernail ends up between her teeth, it’s another drop in a well that runs god knows how deep. "Though very few of them involve this towel."

“And about the ones that do?”

"Well," Tzuyu starts to purr - reaching a hand down and spreading the flat of her palm on your chest, "I figured if I ever wanted something to bite down on, well, you know."

It's just a subtle little rock - and the perfect view: she starts like this, her hair all tucked behind one shoulder, the arch of her back lifting. Slow at first, Tzuyu only pausing after every other short breath to lick and kiss your lips with hers, and the edges of her teeth, all soft and insistent. You are sure - that with a subtle twitch, a minor jerk of the knee or hip - she is almost right over the perfect place, and when her hips grind in these micro-friction little motions that have her sighing and pushing herself flush, it's clear that all she's looking to do is rub her cunt down all over the erection you've been holding in since the last time your towel was hanging somewhere above your waist.

"Hold, please," Sana interrupts, when she leans over and plucks something out of the messy contents of the nightstand - a few hair clips, and, more importantly, a condom. She swears aloud when the package tears the wrong way, but she's quick to apply a lip balm-slick finger-tip on the inside of the ring, and hands the thing to Tzuyu by way of a passing roll, "so, I assume you've got this under control."

"Give me that."

"Mm. Have at it."

There is an intrusive thought that finds its place, wedged somewhere at the base of your skull when Tzuyu starts the careful act of lowering herself down your shaft - like this, it has an inevitability - a forward momentum, the familiar sense of excitement building a force in your heartstrings. Sana must have a similar sensation, as she scoots her ass and slides one hand over the same place you feel that force thrumming, her palm reaching right for Tzuyu's ass, while Tzuyu hisses out a tiny sound at the added stretch.

"Careful," Sana says, fingers drawn back from the cleft of Tzuyu's beautiful ass with a string of slick that's unmistakably arousal. "You try going back after having his cock. And trust me, there's nothing to go back to. Like, ever."

"That must be why you're always like this," is Tzuyu's cock-sure comeback, finding herself flush with your hips.

You're biting down. You're holding back. You're probably digging nails into your palms hard enough to break skin, because you could be double, triple wrapped, latex running up your length like a goddamn balloon and you'd still feel the hot, melting perfection of Tzuyu's pussy swallowing your cock in one, slick, seamless motion. There isn't any sound either more pleasing than that hitch-groan-slip you hear as Sana helps guide Tzuyu's hips back, forth, back again and to a steady beginning of this proper pace: smooth and full.

You both need a second, because, fuck - and she's biting into a grin. Eyes already half lidded as the speed builds. As Tzuyu starts really enjoying the drag of it, the feeling. The god-damn-fucking-stretch.

"Oh? Like what?" Sana asks, smirk filling out her lips to bridge the silence you're both groaning into. "Like what?"

"Greedy," Tzuyu says. The only part that really needs to get filled in. "Because he fucks the self-control right out of you."

Now Sana lets that settle, and it's not like she doesn't know. Or doesn't understand. And still, "Mm. That does sound like me, doesn't it, daddy?"

(Yeah, well- you- )

Tzuyu watches you watch what happens next: Sana peeling out the cotton slip of her bath towel - sizing up just how good Sana looks. Fuck-me-raw.

And then she laughs, deep and gorgeous. "Didn't he just do a number on you - hn, god. Can you hear him all up inside me? Fucking, splitting me apart."

It's true.

All of it.

The way Tzuyu rides your cock. Faster, faster, rolling her body and drawing her hands together behind the length of her hair and neck until the point of her chin is upturned, showing off the hollow of her throat. A tension that glitters with sweat.

The tightening in the space between the bottom of her ass and your cock - all of it is heaven. This slow-and-rough, rough-and-fast. Tzuyu picks the tempo of it to fuck out a particular pleasure that has you catching her and pulling her closer to your body, holding her through the upward grind, where your cock meets the heat of her cunt - pressing her closer.

That's it.

Possessive. That's what both girls have the good grace to read.

Sana's hands come up Tzuyu's ribs, fingertips skirting the muscle-taut-surface of her stomach, the bumps and grooves of her ribs, and up further still, riding the path of her breasts as they're bobbing-jostled and going full-on heavy - her thumbs go at her nipples. Rolling around the hardened tips - the faintest tug at them, enough to start to pull - then just teasing them between thumb and forefinger and loving the sight of you wincing. Loving that you love that.

"She's pretty, isn't she?" Sana laughs.

"It's a real show," you bite the compliment out. The very least you can get to.

(You'll be fucked if you can hide how much you want to stay buried in this girl and cum a fucking waterfall between those perfect, creamy thighs. Oh, she knows. The dirty little smile, the filthy laugh, you're holding tight - even if the act is useless.)

"Like how she clamps down," she hums. "That's the part I've always loved, you know. She just does everything so slow, so fucking good, so... deliberate."

There's a fist in Tzuyu's hair and no trace of sympathy or self restraint in her friend when Sana tells her, "Baby, ride him slow for me, can you do that?"

When Tzuyu sucks a hiss through her teeth, mouth caught around the sharp intake, Sana just licks a slow line along the curve of her lower lip - as though saying, baby, like the slut you are, remember who asked nicely? 

And it turns out: slow is worse. You can feel every tiny tremor of friction, every little shift of Tzuyu's cunt squeezing you. Clinging tightly. Your fingers wrap around her rib cage and hold her right as her ass hits your lap, while her head rolls back into her own hair. It is enough, finally, to draw an out-of-breath little pant out of her, making a beautiful blush crawl and spread across her cheeks - there.

(Oh, fuck, your brain echoes. So, you want slow, that's what the noise from your throat says as she eases back, rising up. So slow, you-can-feel-all-of-me. She makes the effort so flawlessly, it's fucking you both over, because she's looking at Sana with this flutter-beat look, eyes wide, wet and round and pleading.)

It gets that much worse the minute Sana pushes her down by the shoulders. Giving her some resistance. Showing you both she can take you inch by slow goddamned inch.

"Harder. Deeper, sweetie."

Tzuyu does everything Sana says she'll do, loving her fingers in her hair, pulling tight. Control given as easily as that. Because she looks just how she feels: utterly surrendered. A helpless kind of want, like there's something broken in her chest when the head of your cock pushes her deep, deep. To the point she feels something more than an ache.

"Want it," Tzuyu whispers out against Sana's smile. "From the back, like you promised," she says, and takes the shudder out of your breathing.

Sana cups her jaw, laughing. She puts one arm around Tzuyu's throat and bites at her chin, at her ear. "I bet he'd do just about anything to give you what you want, baby."

Tzuyu’s hips snap down onto yours again. Melting your cock in this thick, molten heat.

And again, faster. Needier.

The kind of movements across your lap that make everything louder - a beautiful chorus of small-sounds. Slaps and squelching. Wet and gasping and begging and skin-on-skin. You'd never, ever considered the act a competition before, not with Sana. But when Tzuyu seems to be seeing who can pull the most erotic of noises out from underneath your ribcage - or the highest pitched sigh - the wetter and louder it all gets -

"Sana."

"Tzu."

Tzuyu rides the pressure and finds her voice, head thrown back, jaw slack. "Sana - tell him to, I'm gonna, soon. Tell him what to do."

"Beg for him," and Sana gives her the fakest-of-all-pouts when she slips her hand along Tzuyu's inner thigh, nearing her where the two of you meet, then slowing her pace, bringing you both to an immediate stand-still, while her fingertips continue, ghosting across the shape of your stomach. "He doesn't need anything less than the truth."

Tzuyu's face. It's the most gorgeous thing you've seen. Her hips are winding slow against you when you hit a spot you're not entirely sure either of you can recreate at your own whim: deep inside. Her eyes as wide as they can be. All of her sharp edges now just these subtle things - the very shape of the shadow beneath her clavicle, the tensing of her thighs at your sides, the gentle lines that curl up from the wide bottoms of her hips when your fingers thread up her belly, palm open flat.

"I want," is where Tzuyu starts, not hiding it any part. "I want you to bend me over the bed." 

And in a breathless voice: 

"Please, please let me have what I want. Just bend me over the bed, shove my legs apart and take me. Hold me down. Fuck me and fill me and don't let me move or say a thing. Until we're both fucking finished."

You swallow. Hard.

Because here's what Sana's brought you: this tall brunette with an impossibly beautiful ass and thighs to die for, a sin-full mouth. The curves in her waist and back and tits a distraction, that you might try to map out until you're so lost you forget how to leave, how to ever take your cock out of this tight cunt.

"Is that a thing you can do?" Tzuyu practically purrs in one long tone, pushing herself up your waist, until your cock falls out and hangs there. Until you can only see all of this clear, gorgeous skin in front of you and hear her pretty little moan. "God, please, daddy, I’m begging you."

(She says this last part in a way that lets you know this isn't something either of you will get over easily, the kind of pleasure, the feeling and the flash. She's unreadable - almost, not quite- just too honest, there's nothing else for you to believe. Maybe that's where the shiver comes from, or your palms itching, or the sounds of your bedding ruffling as you spin her onto her back, her tummy - pull up on her hips until they're sky high and you can palm her breasts, let her press her knees up and apart on the duvet. Until you get that first look down the column of her spine and the sudden, stunning shape of her ass in a view you never want to say goodbye to.)

Tzuyu slides her hands across your sheets, all this stretch. A flex of muscle. When she opens her hips and you push two fingers deep, inside, easy - then back out -

"How much of that," Tzuyu interrupts, blushing furiously, "do I have left to beg with? Please."

- because she's been soaked and aching all day just thinking about it. Just begging for a good fucking - or so she told Sana, who now giggles and leaves small kisses up the ridge of her spine, crawls alongside the dip-line of the mattress, and after curling her fingers around the column of Tzuyu's throat - smooths a single fingernail up and down and presses, tracing, the groove of her jaw as you nudge your cock against her.

It’s not on purpose, this needlessly drawn-out moment - simple brush of latex against her slick, dripping folds, the tightening in her core and how it matches the tension in Sana's wrist and the coarseness of the bed-linens and the hardness of you - but everything eventually folds, into her.

And you're not helping, the way you're fastened to the narrow point of her waist like it's a handle. Your thumbs riding the arch of her hips, taking every opportunity to sink your fingers hard into the flesh, grip tighter and push, pulling Tzuyu, if only to really work that friction between your hips.

"Fuck, it's all in. Finally." Sana gasps like she's the one being bent, arched, fucked from behind, then lays herself down against the length of Tzuyu's shoulder, chin bumping her cheek. Watching Tzuyu. Taking it all in.

You have a hard time making it out, but Tzuyu starts this half-whimpered litany about how she needs to be fucked (that is, roughly - deep and long, or maybe rough and short and deep, or whatever, as long as it makes her lose composure), followed with some shoddy mix of cursing and your name and Sana's - the things all three of you might consider for another chance meeting.

And as you're following up the suggestion with a low groan, that's exactly how you notice that grind in her hips - a jerk back, a twist, bucking against you. She feels so, so incredibly tight when she writhes onto you, squeezes. Like she wants to tear her heart out her chest, she's so overwhelmed. So thoroughly and totally taken by this fuck. By you. "Harder," is all she says.

This one line does it, then two more. All in-and-out thrusts from behind, fuller the second time, then the third.

Only when you find Tzuyu peering back over her shoulder with a pair of eyes that say, please, pretty-please, all liquid and warm and wanting. "Fucking ruin that cunt, I want - god. Do you have the slightest idea how much," and that is where the words disappear into a slow and sticky whine.

"Yeah baby," Sana whispers.

She knows what it is. Tzuyu wants so much more, so you give it. Give her the just-this-side-of-ruthless fucking and the slow-pace grind you know can push her right over the edge. Give her more, all of you, and get her hands twisting in the pillow and grabbing fistfuls of sheets, burying her face into the space above her wrists and nearly choking on her hair with how she moans and yelps - loud.

Her whole body jolts forward the next time. The arch to her back deepening. Body drawing in on a flawless line.

Tzuyu does cum. Eventually.

She keens and rolls and begs you not to pull out or slow, just stay put and fill her with your cum - keep fucking going, please. The only thing keeping her from landing flat on your mattress as she practically unravels around your cock are fingers you have under her hips, tightening. Bruising.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck me, you’re,” you’re railing out of her lungs, where the words hang on sex-stale air.

First with Sana whispering promises into her ears and letting Tzuyu swallow, and suck around the length of her index, then two, fingers. Then licking a kiss into her mouth, tongue tangling up hers and finishing up the act with, "cum for us, Tzu, like the sweet girl you are - you take him so well."

Then, with your hand held over her ass-

(She could cry from it. From how everything pulls you in, like a riptide, and, really, with no regard for things like safety or drowning.)

-the utterance off her lips has your stomach twisting into knots:

"Keep," you hear her ask Sana. Barely getting the words out as you ride, fast. "Please, keep, telling him that I - god."

It gets worse before it gets better.

"I can't - I need; fuck, I can’t, with the rubber, I want him," and Sana smirks like she knew all along. "Sana, please-"

"You want the real thing, sweetie. Isn't that right, baby? Hm. Of course it's okay," and Sana soothes a hand through her friend's fringe, pushes it away from her eyes and over her ears, making something that sounds like an adoring laugh slip out. "You want him to fuck his cum so deep in that pussy, I know you do, don't worry."

When you slow down the grinding, wipe the sweat from your face, Sana gets your attention and nods to the very place your cock is disappearing between the cheeks of Tzuyu's ass, "go ahead. If you want the mess-up, sweetie - let's make sure that's exactly what he'll give you."

Who exactly wants what most is hard to say. Sana's the one pulling off the condom, the rubber stretching to an obscene limit that has you fearing for your life should it snap back before it breaks. Tzuyu is already a sort of gaping mess with it all, her own fingers snuck under to rub harsh circles in the absence of cock and something firm and heavy to fill her. To feel full.

And there's you, asking, or maybe, double-checking: "Tzuyu, you're saying you want me to-"

"She doesn't care," is what you're interrupted with, courtesy of Sana. "Fuck a baby into her cunt, that's what she wants."

(Like you wouldn't fucking love it too. Or have the frame of mind to even begin to unpack all of that.)

It’s a lot, admittedly.

And not just because Tzuyu has never looked better: on all fours, pressed, and presented. Legs all the way apart and ass and thighs in your grip, with that smile all pointedly certain and wild-eyed, like, she knows, that you know exactly what to give her - what she really wants - filling her so full and marking your claim by fucking your cum right to her very core.

Tzuyu drags her head back, so she can peek over her shoulder and meet your eyes.

She does things. Like sighing this small sound and laughing and - she has this thing for noises, for things breaking under the strain, where she won't say a word, except to murmur some part of your name into your jawline, a raggedness in her breathing. Sheer hunger.

"I want - want you to, fuck me."

You will. Or you are. Or you're going to, only - Sana's lips are fast around your cock, fingers fluttering delicately between your thighs and drawing these stuttering sounds in your breath, "I will. I will. I'm - I will."

Sana just hums, copper hair bobbing in place. Her hot mouth and wet fingers pulling and sliding and pulling and sliding. Tongue moving in all the ways she knows you like.

Which, here’s a fact: Sana can be mean. No one would believe it.

But sometimes this is the price of admission. You have to be honest about what it takes, how, exactly, you intend to break this beautiful brunette whose ass is swaying back and forth in this mesmerizing little waggle of the hips. It's hard not to marvel, not to ask questions and not wonder at what a pair of friends so similar and so opposite do to each other and other people and to themselves in those small, private hours and space no one else shares, that has you panting and burning and her clasping the hollow of your neck and asking with her body if this is okay, because sometimes, in moments of absolute need, just a glance can mean your end.

So, there's no tease; Sana is well aware of what it feels like when you're throbbing and ready to burst - she's working you up and over and right to that point of no return-

"Can I? Fucking-"

"Fine," she replies, maybe having now considered every other way you might spill a hot load out and make a mess of the sheets. "Have at her," and a flick of tongue catches around the tip of your cock - the final tease, the best punishment.

And the promise of how Tzuyu makes that perfect whimpering cry. Something entirely wounded. Because as soon as it begins - your cock in the shallow depth of her creaming cunt - you're both made aware how she's wetter than she was an hour ago and clenching at nothing, hands balling themselves in frustration, palms bunched white-knuckled up in fists. She needs something, anything. Something for her to squeeze against. For her to bear down on and bounce her cunt off-

The sound all three of you make when you grit your teeth and bury yourself deep into her pussy is a guttural, aching thing, with you biting a lip and gasping. Tzuyu half-growling-half-sobbing into the sheets.

It doesn't matter that she lets Sana cover her open and slack mouth in an attempt to quiet it.

It doesn't matter because in a blink, the exact point in which you sink completely inside - where it's the first, the best, feeling of Tzuyu’s hot pussy taking your cock.

(Mind-numbing, is the word that doesn't come to you.)

Under you, Tzuyu is writhing and hot and tight into the mattress - and so desperate.

"Please," is about all that gets away from her. Which is just too cute to ignore: she's been dying to be fucked, ever since stepped into your foyer and was introduced by the softest, most deliberate of gestures that wound up being all-too intimate. "Please- I need - harder, fucking-"

Sana takes to touching you, her own little form of enjoyment that ends with her fingertips mapping the shape of your jaw. Pupils blown, "Isn't she amazing?" Sana laughs into your neck.

"Fucking," is what your first real stroke back into Tzuyu pulls out,  “unreal."

The friction has you both grinding your bodies together at the base, and she arches, this throaty moan, before looking back up at you and letting her mouth fall open - this wordless sentence of plea, over and over again. She's shaking. Body-full. It's almost something painful to see, that she's so undone - and what if you were the only person who'd ever fucked her like this: into ruin.

Tzuyu clenches around the next thrust - begging, so-sore-and-begging to cum.

The demand is practically written in her muscles, and all you want is for her to let go for the second, third, last time - until she loses track of the count. To get there before you have the time to register that she is actually doing it. She's already half-way gone and at your mercy - her only choices now, being: cum, or let you chase the orgasm you're currently rubbing all around the curve of her cunt.

Sana swallows her scream when the first little cry comes, that you've edged out of her. And it gets worse and better the second time her ass meets your thighs, where she's making a real mess on your hips and all but yelling out her orgasm in her state of such incoherent stutter and disarray. The arch to her back is this thing out of your best imagination, which has you - pounding out all her noises - gripping and curving over the plane of her stomach. Until Tzuyu's beginning to make these different cries, somewhere new, somewhere you're finding a whole lot deeper.

"Hold her ass up and fuck her 'til she's full of cum," is the advice you get from Sana in the end, as you fuck her and fuck her through the tumultuous rise and fall of orgasm after orgasm, "oh baby, does it hurt so good? Do you feel that heat spreading down your thighs and getting you all slick? You always knew the best toys are the ones that get bred, sweetheart."

And from her, barely, "fuck, yes."

That's what does it: the desperation just that tangible in all your voices.

Sana manages to get her lips on yours. A kiss that could knock the wind out of your sails under normal circumstances, one that curls a fist and tugs around a familiar part of you. But Tzuyu's eyes roll and drop low, fluttering shut, while your hips crash in quickening succession:

"Fuck-you're so-perfect, cum in me again, daddy - make me," and, "please, so fucking full, just give me more. Want more of you, until it's-"

Tzuyu gets you. Just there. Just the way you needed it. Just like that.

There's something addictive in how her muscles clench and grab around the head of your cock - drawing everything you'd been holding back to a painful front, and - Sana's taste in your mouth still so sweet, mixed with salt and sweat, while you fuck and pound, with absolutely zero respite. Cum buried deeper and deeper until it's spilling and Tzuyu whines for the filthy feeling. Until you're fucked through, emptying every single drop into her open cunt. Until your legs feel sore, a slight shake all through the muscle and the tension in your neck and shoulders, and you're growling this thing that might be her name, and "Tzu, my god, baby, you feel, so amazing," in between thrusts.

It earns you an appreciative whimper.

Something breathy and not-at-all restrained. She doubles down on it when your cock slides out of her swollen, well-fucked cunt.

At first, she only hums a sleepy smile and turns her face in toward the touch, eyes closed and unresponsive. A long exhale. Even like this - especially, perhaps - Tzuyu is lovely.

Either out of exhaustion or overbearing satisfaction, you collapse into her - bodies folding up like that old-cliche about a stack of cards or dominoes - with your cheek to her back and your arms wrapping around her chest, tight, trying to squeeze. Like you're hugging someone from behind. Which isn't too far off. Because for the next five or ten or fifteen minutes or a half-hour, you lie there, pressing your face in against the side of her neck, smelling her hair - how sweet the strands are - then down along her shoulders, and under, listening to the soft way Tzuyu falls into her breaths. 

In, out. In, out.

Sana follows all the while with, "should we not have let her ride, first?"

To which, Tzuyu says, "fuck off."

Sana brushes it off, crawls around your shoulders and slips two, three, five kisses into your forehead. That's when you know to shuffle over, dragging and tugging limbs and muscles and bone in the same direction - careful not to let the sticky sensation linger anywhere it shouldn't. Not even for an instant.

The three of you are laying in a total fucking mess. But it's your mess, and that's beautiful in a sort of thought-provoking poetic way.

You turn your head. Tzuyu's there, still, blinking slowly.

"Hello again, hi," you say and the smile comes up all sorts of natural. "Okay?"

Her gaze shifts into something vague, so much quieter, but she nods. So it must be. Okay.

-

“Is it too early?” Tzuyu asks two weeks later, and nothing has ever, ever started like that.

She’s at your doorstep, a little too dressed up for the middle of the afternoon, hair pulled away from her face in two loose braids, bright eyes, lip-gloss that shimmers just enough. Something innocent in the whole way she looks and stands and smiles. Nothing, on the surface, that gives the truth away.

You lift an eyebrow, skeptical. Always. "I wasn't expecting company."

"Yes you were," and she dangles a set of keys.

"I'm sorry, did you steal those?"

The laughter from her chest is as surprising as it is gorgeous, rich and thick like molasses, rolling over the shape of her tongue. It hits you hard that two weeks - really, any amount of time - it’s not nearly long enough.

And before Tzuyu can admit as much out loud, Sana chirps from her spot aside the door, knee bent and grinning, "maybe I did."

"Well," you say, hands on your hips, "this is all a little..."

"Irregular, I know." Sana's giving her best impression of you: so exasperated.

"Which is, honestly," she continues to explain, pushing away from her perch and approaching in these small, gentle steps. "We need, that thing you promised you'd do," she trails a finger up the buttons of your shirt, under your jaw. You're already drowning. "Whenever" - is her very worst torture - "we called."

(Might just be a little bit of trouble, is the one honest answer, to whatever you were trying to start when you saw their faces and recognized their bodies and said: yes, come inside and meet me and fuck my brains out, all that.

What a way to begin. What a story it'll be.)

a/n: these two are fucking adorable.

[dinogoofymutated]

Uhhh, so can I request something about Wolverine where both he and reader have a crush on each other but he won't show it and she is too afraid of rejection to confess, however, when Xavier sends reader to talk to Wolverine about their mission, she walks into his room and finds him top topless which only frustrates her more and leads to Logan noticing that and taking his chances to check her feelings 😓 Ahem you can make it NSFW according to the last thing I implied to 👀 hopefully this is not too out of character but I really crave any content about this man 😓😓😓

Also excuse my language if there are any mistakes, English us not my first language 🫡

SFW! Wolverine/GN!Reader

This is such a good prompt!! I hope this does justice for your vision!! Also- don't worry, your English is very good!! Hope it's okay that I implied NSFW instead of wrote it out explicitly. I didn't quite have the energy to get that far 😭

TWs: not many. Miscommunication. Reader written while picturing Fem! But no pronouns mentioned.

Anyone around the mansion could tell that something weird was going on between you and Logan.

You were always really jumpy and nervous around him. You'd squirm and fiddle with your hands when sat next to him, looking like you'd rather be anywhere else. You could be quick to lose your temper at him sometimes and you clearly dreaded training sessions with him. Most people just thought you hated the man, but the one time Jean had seen a peak into your mind she certainly knew the truth. The professor probably knew too, to be honest.

You were hopelessly pining for the man- But you'd never, ever confess to him. He was in love with Jean. He had been in love with Jean for years. There was no chance he ever had feelings for you. So- instead of facing these feelings, you had a bad tendency to run from them. Being around him made you jittery and nervous, sitting next to him made your heart beat crazily and you had a short temper with him because he was always running headfirst into danger. It didn't matter that he had a healing factor, you didn't like that he was endangering himself like that.

Logan, on the other hand, was always stoic. He treated you like any other X-man or friend. It didn't matter how his heart fluttered around you or the heat that rose to his cheeks every time you did something particularly attractive, he wasn't exactly an expert in love. He certainly had a hard time showing it. What he did notice though, was the change in your demeanor lately. You had been acting so strange, and it's gotten to the point where you'd straight up leave the room when he would enter, and he was frustrated. Logan was starting to get fed up with your newfound attitude, and despite Jean's gentle nudging, he certainly wasn't going to tell you what he felt for you. What he thought about you. If anything, It would give you more of a reason to hate him.

You had been successfully avoiding Logan for a while, having been in a particularly good mood today. That was until the professor pulled you aside and asked- well, told you to brief Logan about the upcoming mission. Your heart immediately dropped into your stomach. You, alone with him? In the same room? The professor was tasking you to dive into your own personal hell- and there was no way he didn't know that! All he did when you began to complain and make excuses was smile knowingly at you.

You swore that you had dissociated the entire time you had been walking to his room. You didn't want to do this. You didn't want to be here, you didn't want to talk to him. Nope! You were absolutely dreading it.

You Knock three times. After a second of silence, you already find yourself overthinking your knock. Was it too loud? Too quiet? Maybe he could already smell it was you, and is just ignoring the knock so he doesn't have to look at your stupid flushed face-

"Come in." Okay, So, not that. You open his door slowly, not wanting to seem too eager to enter. You're looking down at the paperwork the entire time, mouth already running with the time of day everyone would be leaving, Which suits to wear, where you were going. You don't even look up until after the door has already been shut.

"There's a few more factors that need to be taken account of when we manage to get a better survey of the location but-" You yelp when you look up, greeted by a shirtless Logan, clothed only by a low-hanging pair of gray sweatpants. You're quick to cover your eyes, face burning from a mixture of embarrassment and... well, something else.

"For the love of god, Logan!" You gasp. You can hear Logan chuckle at your reaction, and the action lights a spark of anger inside of you.

"The least you can do is be decent when you invite me in!" You snap at him. He huffs a little at the change of tone, meanwhile you're trying your absolute best to forget how you practically saw everything in those sweatpants. You hear him take a few steps forwards until he's standing so close you can feel the heat from his body.

"So what? You've patched me up before. It's not like you've never seen me naked." Logan sounds annoyed, and you feel guilty for your reaction for a moment. You sigh, shaking your head.

"That's different." You say. Logan hums.

"Is it really?" His tone is teasing, and you almost feel humiliated. He's making fun of you. Of course he was. You were absolutely hopeless.

"Look, Just forget it. Take the damn papers and read the brief yourself." Your eyes are still closed as you slam the papers into what you think is his chest and try to turn to leave, but Logan grabs your arm. He doesn't even try to pick them up as he grabs the top of your arms, keeping you from running away as he walks you backwards.

"Look, I get that I'm not the easiest guy to get along with, but ya' never had a problem with me before. What's happened?" Logan's words start out rough, but if you didn't know any better you'd think that there was a little vulnerability leaking into his tone. You gasp as the surface of the cold door hits your back. You keep your eyes firmly shut, still not willing to open them and look at him. You didn't want to see his face, worried that you'd blush even more or he'd manage to figure it out- if he hadn't already. He'd just make fun of you. He wouldn't take you seriously. Would he?

"Nothing. Nothing has happened, happy?" You say, nerves creeping into your unsteady voice. It's hardly a lie, nothing really happened, but Logan had a habit of stiffing out dishonesty. He growls, and the sound makes your skin prickle.

"Don't lie to me. You can hardly look me in the eye." Logan growls. You scoff at him.

"That's not true!" A blatant lie, and you were sure it was obvious. Still, part of you was hoping he'd simply let it go. You should have known better, because everyone under the sun knew that Logan was one of the most stubborn men on the planet

"Prove it. Look at me." His words make you hesitate. You frown, not wanting to give in. Unstoppable force meets unmovable object- but with every push you feel your nerves start to go shot. You were anxious, flustered, worried- you just wanted it to all be over. If you just opened your eyes, it would all be over.

"Open your eyes, doll." You can feel Logan's breath fan across your face, and in the mix of shock, you finally open your eyes. Logan is so close to your face you can feel his breathing. You hardly know where to look, face flushing red as you blush as the close-contact. You get nervous when you make eye contact, gaze flittering about from his nose, to his ears, his sideburns, and to his lips. You must have let your eyes linger there for a little too long, because Logan starts to chuckle at you. You feel the sting of embarrassment. Logan sees something in your face shift, and knowing you'd just pull away again, he takes a shot in the dark.

Logan kisses you, and you have no clue how to respond to that at first. You go wide-eyed for a moment, but his hands let go of your arms and wrap around you and you cant help but melt into the kiss. He's a good kisser. I mean, with years of experience, you knew he would be. But getting to experience that yourself gave you a whole new perspective to it. He cups the back of your neck as he draws you in for another kiss, again and again. You're breathing hard when the two of you finally separate, Logan being mostly unbothered besides a small smile and a red tint to his cheeks.

"All that drama, and it's because you had feelings f'me. Heh." -is the first thing he says. You gasp, offended.

"Oh-shut up. S'not like you're any better than I am." You frown, sliding a hand around the back of his neck to yank him closer. "Seriously, you weren't exactly dropping hints." Logan chuckles again, Before hooking his hands under your thighs, hoisting you up and against him. You yelp as he does so, getting flustered when you realize that you could now feel everything that you had been trying to forget seeing earlier.

"I'm kissing you now, aren't I?"

[antianakin]

I never, ever say the Jedi were flawed, and here's why.

It's not because I don't think people can BE flawed, or that I don't think GOOD people can be flawed, of course they can. Even people who are genuinely doing good things and making good choices and trying their best to be selfless and kind and compassionate can make mistakes and have a bad day.

But there's really only two reasons I see anybody bring up "the Jedi were flawed."

The first is from Jedi fans who are trying to stave off the Stanakins and the anti Jedi crowd by adding that in as a disclaimer. "OF COURSE the Jedi are flawed, but it doesn't mean they aren't good people!" It's a meaningless statement because the side saying it doesn't even really believe it to be true and the side they're saying it TO thinks the Jedi being flawed means they all deserved to die. This is the kind of statement that leads to people deciding that individual Jedi are okay but their culture needs to be completely reformed in order to allow people like Anakin to just do whatever they want whenever they want and then they can all live.

The second is from people who DON'T really like the Jedi much and will insist that "the Jedi are flawed" is part of the whole point of the narrative of Star Wars, especially the prequels. This is the kind of statement that leads to people like Leslye Headland INSISTING that George Lucas intended for the story of the Jedi to be one of failure and criticism and casting the Jedi as "the evil institution" in her interpretation of Star Wars. This is what leads to stories like the Ahsoka show insisting that the Jedi were elitist bastards whose arrogance led to their own genocide. These people usually try to claim they like the Jedi, but they'll still cast the Jedi as the bad guys in the story instead of, say, Anakin. These are the people who genuinely have no idea what attachment is and don't care to learn. These people believe that, at best, the Jedi THOUGHT they were doing good, but that they had completely lost their way and were truly not that much better than the Sith anymore and their destruction was necessary to create balance in the galaxy.

I have no desire to appease people who don't like my interpretation of Star Wars, and I don't think that "the Jedi were flawed" was ever the point of Lucas's story and I genuinely think it takes a lot AWAY from his story to say that it does. So while I am perfectly happy to admit that people in general, even overall GOOD and kind and selfless people, are always flawed and can make mistakes, I will never, ever say that the Jedi were flawed. The Jedi lost, yes, but not due to their own flaws. They lost because of EVERYONE ELSE'S flaws, so what does it MATTER if the Jedi were flawed or not? If you truly believe the Jedi were good people who did everything right and simply lost due to other people's selfish choices, then what does it add to the story to insist the Jedi were flawed? How does it change anything, for the better or otherwise? The Jedi were right IS the point of the story, so insisting they were flawed actually takes away from that by distracting from how the Jedi were RIGHT, and it's people choosing not to listen to them or trust them or act like them that brings about the downfall of an entire galaxy.

The Jedi weren't flawed. The Jedi were RIGHT ABOUT EVERYTHING and that is the hill I will die on.

[manikas-whims]

Hii!! I want to request some headcanons for LADS boies ~~

How about them with a very famous reader!! How will they plan dates and attend any celebration with their partner!!

interesting request! imo, the biggest issue (in canonical sense) that they all will face due to the Reader being famous is protection. if she's always in limelight, it'll become difficult for them to act as they please in order to protect her..

now on to the request! hope you like it! ♡

LADS men dating a famous reader

XAVIER

⭐ He may be able to erase traces of his own history but he's very bad at dealing with the paparazzi. Any time he senses paparazzi spying on you two during your dates, he uses his evol to teleport you both away.

⭐ However, that doesn't always work. And when it doesn't, he walks right up to them and forces them to delete the pics taken.

⭐ He's never had any issues with your fame but what he doesn't enjoy is the attention it brings upon you, and by extension, upon him as well. Once the news of you dating some deepspace hunter breaks out, he starts getting scouted by random entertainment labels. They think his handsome face and skills will prove amazing for action movies.

⭐ Your fans will try spreading conspiracy theories about how he could be the one behind the infamous masked vigilante named Lumiere. There's also fans who seem to like him and have spread rumors about how he saved you from a hoard of wanderers, causing you to immediately fall for him.

⭐ He's very compliant when it comes to anything to do with you. If there's an event significant for the sake of your career, and if it requires his presence, then he'll quietly accompany you.

⭐ Your stylists are quite taken by him. They always insist on doing his makeup and picking out the outfits that suit his sleeper build. And Xavier complies, his only request being that they make sure his clothes are complementary to yours and that you two look like a couple. No matter what image you've crafted for the world, he'll ensure everyone knows that you two belong to each other.

ZAYNE

❄️ He's a nightmare for the paparazzi. They never manage to sneak a single good picture of the two of you when you're out on dates. They always end up looking blurry or Zayne makes sure his tall frame entirely hides your smaller one behind him.

❄️ This one time when they do spot you leaving the Akso Hospital with a tall, dark haired man, none of them manage to take any pictures. Many claim they suddenly felt the temperature around them dropped so low that it felt chilly, and that their hands went numb due to the cold.

❄️ The news about your dating life only breaks out when you and Zayne yourselves decide to make it public. However, not many seem to like Zayne. Many fans claim he's too aloof and wonder if he's even good enough for you (ofc you reassure him that he's the only one ever!)

❄️ Other fans discover some pictures of the two of you from highschool days and come to the conclusion that you two must be highschool sweethearts. And they find it admirable that you two stuck together for so long.

❄️ Due to his profession, he doesn't get much time and its difficult for him to attend your public events. This does lead to some criticism about how he's not a very supportive boyfriend. But he only finds such remarks amusing. Afterall, what the world thinks of him doesn't matter. He only cares about how you feel for him.

❄️ The rare occasions when he does show up at your events, he always keeps a hand on the small of your back, his intimidating figure allowing no room for comments or slander.

RAFAYEL

🌊 Since he himself is pretty well-known, he's quite used to the paparazzi. But that doesn't mean he likes them or tolerates them. He's straight up calling them out because he hates the possibility of his dates with you getting ruined due to so many intruding eyes. And he doesn't want people prying into his and your personal lives.

🌊 When he sees a paparazzi taking pictures, Rafayel is the type who pulls out his own smartphone and starts clicking pictures of them in retaliation.

🌊 You two openly hang-out in public and there is speculation about you two dating. It's just you never confirm it. And ofcourse, you two are questioned during your individual interviews about each other. You never give a direct response to those either. You let the people keep assuming whatever they want to.

🌊 Both yours and Rafayel's fans ship you two together. But there are many of his fangirls who've called you horrible names. One time, you even got attacked by a crazy fan, who was immediately banned by Thomas. And Rafayel personally put out a statement about how he'll not entertain any crazy or violent fans.

🌊 Whenever you're working on a new project, he sends you rare species of flowers for goodluck. He also makes sure to convey his support in the form of sending food trucks and such for the entire staff.

🌊 He doesn't enjoy public attention. You've seen how much he despises having to attend formal events related to his own artistry. Still, he doesn't like the idea of so many strangers openly approaching you, so he makes sure to attend as many of your events as his schedule allows him to. And you do the same for him.

If you sent me a LADS related request, then rest assured, i am working on all your requests slowly..♡

SEND ME REQUESTS FOR LOVE & DEEPSPACE HEADCANONS VIA ASKS.

» MASTERLIST «

[redr0sewrites]

omg lowkey having a shitass day and i’m too tired to write for my comfort character and your my fav so 😭😭 literally just any fluffy vox headcanons. literally any! could be only one paragraph IDC i just think it’s so cute how you write him 🙏🙏

OFCCCC!!!!! heres some hcs ab vox comforting u after a long day ♥️

🥀 Cw: none, just fluff!

vox is no stranger to long, tiring days. he's had his fair share of shitty work days and when he comes home to see you exhausted, he immediately notices what's wrong.

vox is very goofy, he's good at reading people and can immediately know if someone's upset, but it's how he reacts that throws him off. like he'll notice something is wrong but won't know how to respond.

he's so used to manipulating people (such as valentino) or just shoving down his own emotions to put on a persona that he isn't great at verbally comforting someone, but his actions make up for it.

he pulls you onto his lap and will run his hand up and down your back to soothe you. while his claws are sharp, he would never hurt you with them, and its much more of a ticklish sensation then anything

speaking of, vox loves it when you laugh. if you're pissed at someone in particular, he will definitely make fun of them to help cheer you up. don't be surprised if they "disappear".... he is an overlord after all. he'd only do this if you want him too tho

vox claims he isn't insecure, but in reality he knows exactly how it feels to feel shitty about everything around you. he's surprisingly empathetic, if you're in a relationship with him he definitely cares about you a lot and i genuinely see him being upset in the situation that you're upset

if you cry, vox may be a little awkward but will go to get you a glass of water. he'll also dim the light of his screen to make sure he doesn't give you a headache and, if you're really upset or tired, he may even take the day off of work to comfort you

vox is the type to turn on soft music when you're sad and pull you into a slow dance right in the middle of your apartment. he doesn't care that you're bleary eyed and that you keep stepping on his feet, he doesn't care that its sappy or that it makes him seem vulnerable to care about you so much. as long as he gets to see you smile and giggle as you both clumsily swirl around eachother, he's content in staying in this moment forever.

if you're ever angry/frustrated and take it out on him, he may be a little pissy but he can take it, especially if you feel really bad afterwards. he doesn't take it to heart if you have a bad day and snap at him, hell, he does it all the time. he may be a little pouty if you don't apologize but don't worry he'll get over it in a few minutes once he sees how tired you are

while vox is a little chaotic, he's a genuinely good person to vent too because he will literally always agree with you no matter what. you murder someone? its their fault for walking into your knife. he absolutely supports your rights (and wrongs) no matter what

he's also a pretty good listener in general because he just. listens. he doesn't give unnecessary input, he doesn't try to play devils advocate, he just listens and shows interest in what you have to say and comforts you when necessary. he doesn't see why thats such a big deal, but he genuinely is a pretty decent listener.

vox is also a yapper though, if you need to get your mind off of your day just tell him and he'll start explaining the most random things to you. oh, you had something really embarrassing happen today and you want to forget about it? well now you're going to listen to 500 shark facts while also hearing the entire princess bride lore. sorry not sorry.

vox would find the shittiest movie with the worst cgi imaginable for you both to watch after a long day, he loves curling up with you on the couch and making fun of horribly animated graphics together

i also think he's (secretly) a fan of corny romance films and/or romcoms, and would want to recreate cute scenes with you (but would literally never tell you that) so you both may end up watching cutesy romance movies too

(this is the song i had in mind bc its soo vox, so u can listen to this for the "full experience")

"aw c'mon bub, don't tell me your too mopey to dance?" vox extended his hand to you, yet his smile was a little more forced than usual. his eyes were wide on his screen, almost concerned about the teats staining your cheeks.

"m' fine voxy.." you mutter, turning away. "it was just a bad day." vox pouts, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at him.

"trust me, this will make you feel better," he assured, pulling you to your feet. vox snapped his fingers and a bright, upbeat tune began to play in the background. pulling you in close, vox twirled you around before stepping back, switching to a simple slow dance.

you can't help a soft smile from creeping onto your face as vox continues to exaggeratedly spin and pull you around. hell, if anyone could see you both now, they'd be shocked.

"who knew that the overlord of technology was such a sap?" you giggle, pulling vox down by his tie to give him a kiss, and he chuckles in response. vox pouts, yet his eyes crinkle a bit as a genuine smile graces his features. "only for you!!".

i saw this and immediately opened my drafts 🫡 it is a CRIME that i haven't written any vox fluff when he's literally one of my fav pookies. i have literally only written smut for him 😭 anyways, i hope this made ur day at least a bit better!!!! sending lots of love ur way ♥️♥️♥️♥️

also i am SO honored to be called ur favorite bc hello??? ur my favorite too?????

[factual-fantasy]

Here is your reminder that the Octonauts fandom is going to be PATIENT, will RESPECT your boundaries, will WAIT for your possible return to the fandom, and will NOT pressure you into anything. Any Octonauts fan that does otherwise should not count, because they clearly do not know what it means to be an Octonaut.

An Octonaut is patient, kind, helpful, and respectful, even if things don't go the way they want it specifically. They will care for the creatures(in this case, people) that come to them regardless of how they want their day to go.

Octonauts are selfless; they do not let what they WANT get in the way of what others NEED. They do not prioritize themselves over others. If you never return to the fandom again, THAT IS PERFECTLY FINE. Because that is what I'd best for YOU. It may disappoint some, but as long as you are safe, happy, and healthy, it should not matter what people WANT out of YOU and YOUR art.

If you do decide to come back to us, then we welcome you with open arms. There aren't enough of us to form an overall opinion about the fandom, and sadly bad experiences can taint the entire look of our community.

Trust me, I've had PLENTY of bad experiences myself(probably TMI, but I once had someone DM me to roleplay something where them as Captain Barnacles had insomnia, anxiety, depression, PTSD, and a crap ton of other things and I as Shellington had to comfort him and whatnot. And then Captain Barnacles got his arm ripped off and they never messaged me again. This was on WATTPAD. They have since removed DMs, and I can see why. So bad experiences can definitely ruin one's image of the fandom.)

But if you enjoy the Octonauts and that's what you want to draw, don't let idiots stop you!! Octonauts do not discriminate and any hateful person who calls themself an Octonaut never truly learned what it means to explore, rescue, and protect.

An Octonaut is meant to protect and care for their communities, and unnecessary aggression or rude comments should not be tolerated!!! Not by you or by us! Guilt tripping is not good either!

AND: Remember to drink water, eat food, get some rest, and take time for yourself! Have a lovely day/night factual :3

<XD The Octonauts fandom is a tough subject for me for a lot of reasons.. I guess now would be a decent time to finally open up about some of it..

To start, I have had more art theft/reposters, art tracers, copying/heavily adopting all my headcannon/design choices.. in the Octonauts fandom, more than every other fandom combined. Including FNAF. 70% of the time when someone shows me an account that has reposted my art? Its one of my Octonauts comics.

I'm pretty protective of my work and I like to keep things to myself, so having all of these happen so frequently in this fandom has kind'a spooked me away..

And I get it, the fandom is not that big. Chances are when someone has a different/unique/good idea, everyone is going to adopt it into their Octonauts universe. I get it.. but that doesn't stop me from feeling really uncomfortable about posting Octonauts artwork. And I also get that a lot of the people in the Octonauts fandom are really young and don't realize that reposting is theft, or that blatant tracing is theft. That doesn't stop it from being really frustrating to see and very discouraging.. especially when you say "hey, you traced my artwork, please don't do that.." they just straight up don't listen 💀

What's frustrating is that despite not having posted anything Octonauts related in a long time, I STILL deal with constant theft and art tracers. I had to block a few recently after they denied clearly tracing my art and refused to take anything down.

Not even to mention the people who have bashed me for not head cannoning Kwazii or Calico jack as trans.. I totally understand that its a widely accepted headcannon, but my Jack is just a rare male calico and Kwazii is a regular male tabby/calico mix. The constant "why dont you draw kwazii with top scars?? are you a transphobe?? stop misgendering kwazii he's trans!!" is really annoying..

Another thing that really bothers me is the constant crab comic asks. Despite explaining multiple times that I do not want to continue drawing that comic, I still get constant asks like this,👇

This was sent after a simple eye study of the Octonauts. And it said that I'm still on the fence about Octonauts. What part of that post makes you think I'm gonna go back to the crab comic?

I understand that a lot of these people are young and just don't understand that all this stuff is wrong or could be making me uncomfortable. But currently I just don't have the patience to deal with all this junk.. So until I can get my patience back or find a work around for this, Octonauts is officially back on the shelf. 😔

[asilentsongbird]

Their favorite ways to comfort you

I think we could all use a hug from our favorite genshin men!

Featuring: Neuvillette, Childe, Alhaitham

Neuvillette

He knows just what it's like to be upset and have no one see it. You swear, this man seems to have a sixth sense to any time you get the slightest bit upset.

He's there in a moment that you feel upset. Silently, head tilting to the side, unsure of what exactly you need, but there, all the same.

If it's a small thing, you can reassure him that you're alright. If it's something heavier, Neuvillette will not let it go.

He'll tuck you into his arms, pulling you against his chest, until your face is pressed against his shoulder.

If you cry, he lets you cry for as long as you want, and hold him as tightly you need. He combs his fingers through your hair, and murmurs that everything is going to be okay.

And he's right, you believe him in that moment. Everything is going to be okay, especially while you're wrapped up in his arms.

Childe

This man's entire love language consists entirely of gift giving. After growing up so poor and being through so much, he wants nothing more than to have someone to spoil

The first time you cry around him, his reaction fully depends on why you are crying.

If you're crying because of someone else, as if someone had made you cry, he's going to do everything in his power to make them as miserable as they made you. The Fatui will be making a few visits.

If it's because of him though, his heart will break. If you were arguing, he immediately says that you were right and he was wrong and please stop crying I never want to see you sad.

He tries to buy you things, showers you with presents just like he would with his siblings. That always made them stop crying, so it should work with you, right?

The first time he does this, it starts a whole other argument about how you don't want to take advantage of him. He has to spend a long time reassuring you that it isn't the case.

He calms down slightly after that, but you notice every time you get upset, you find a small gift somewhere. A pair of earrings you were looking at the other day. A bouquet of your favorite flowers. Just simple things that made him think of you.

You keep all his gifts. And sometimes, when he's out on work trips for Fatui, you bring all of these gifts out, and they soothe the ache of longing that sits in your chest.

He'll be home soon. In the meantime, you can cuddle with the large whale plush he got you just because it reminded you of him. It's not the same, but it feels close.

Alhaitham

This man does not know how to handle it.

He's not really good with his own emotions, he doesn't know how to handle yours. When he makes Kaveh upset, he normally just makes a few jabs and then Kaveh gets more angry than upset, and Alhaitham knows how to handle anger.

He does now know how to handle tears.

He tries his best though, and you can see that. If you come home upset after a long day, a feeling Alhaitham is all too familiar with, he'll open his arms for you and hold you as long as you need.

Sometimes, he'll read to you. It's always a dry and boring topic, whatever he's researching at the moment, but his voice is such a nice sound that it soothes any ache you have.

No matter what, you end up feeling safe with him. Any argument or bad feelings melt away from you with him there. He's like a pillar of strength, one that you're happy to lean on when the world feels too difficult.

Sometimes, if you're out and about with him, if you get overwhelmed he lets you wear his headphones. The action shocks you so much that you can't even accept.

It's also the first time that you realize he loves you. He might not say it often, but he shows it, in the simplest of ways.