#and it’s okay to not be into that side of fantasy

[sailorsoons]

Giving Season (c.sc & l.c)

Pairing: Chan x Reader x Seungcheol

Summary: You always enjoy the office holiday party each year, especially when you get to do secret santa. This year, you enlist Seungcheol’s help to give Chan the perfect gift. 

Word Count: 5,632

Genre: PWP, Polyamorous, Established Relationship (Cheol x reader)

Type:  Smut

Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

Warnings: Just pure filth honestly. Fucking in an office when they totally should not be, mention of power dynamics in the sense that Seungcheol is both Chan and reader’s boss but they kind of skip around that even though Cheol explicitly makes sure to let Chan know it’s okay to reject, semi-public sex if you count the fact they’re in an office, implied but not explicit dom/sub dynamics with Seungcheol as the dominant and reader/Chan as the more submissives, oral (f. receiving) and vaginal fingering, pussy drunk Chan, spitting, multiple orgasms, a little bit of overstimulation, some hair pulling, biting, a lot of heavy kissing and making out, it is a light threesome - this is mostly reader and Chan with Seuncheol very involved in instruction/kissing/touching them. 

A/N: This was originally posted as a request fill for @daechwitatamic and as a belated birthday gift back in December. I love you Mojo Jojo Dojo Siwa Casa House

A/N 2: THIS IS UNEDITED BECAUSE I’M THE GRINCH AND I DON’T WANNA BETA READ MY OWN STUFF. SPELL CHECK WILL HAVE TO DO FOR RIGHT NOW. 

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Nervousness creeps up as you watch Chan open up his gift, eyes zeroed in on the way his deft fingers peel back the wrapping paper carefully. Chan is always so careful, his touch delicate and precise, sliding his fingers under the seam of the paper to pry it open without ripping anything. 

Holiday music plays loudly over the speakers on someone’s desk. Everyone talks and sips on drinks, gathered around the conference room table as Chan finishes opening his git, shedding the wrapping paper. He’s already grinning, lower lip tucked between his teeth as he shakes his head, red creeping up the side of his neck. 

You try not to react, pleased to see that he likes the stack of limited edition books you’ve gifted him. He runs his fingers over the decorated edges, just as careful not to damage them as he was with the wrapping paper. You squirm in your seat, sipping more champagne to quell the dryness in your throat and give you more liquid courage. 

Someone places a hand on your shoulder and you spare a glance upward, though by the scent of the heady cologne you already know it’s Seungcheol. He’s watching Chan with a smirk, his dark hair pushed out of his face and his glasses sliding a little down his nose as he watches Chan look around the table, flushed and pleased. 

“This is way over the purchase limit,” he laughs, scratching the back of his neck and shaking his head. Mingyu lets out an impressed noise, leaning over to see the books and ask what they are. “They’re a limited edition and signed copy of my favorite fantasy series.” 

“Damn, someone likes you,” Mingyu mutters, sipping his beer. “Time to guess.” 

Chan’s eyes flicker to you. You hold your breath, your pulse thumping in your throat as you try not to avert your eyes. Chan’s eyes drift upward to Seungcheol, who you can feel is equally amused. There’s indecision on Chan’s face, his fingers drumming atop the stack of books. 

“Come on,” Mingyu urges. “Guess.”

Chan’s eyes return to you. Back to Seungcheol. Then to you again. You grin, watching as he tries to work out which one of you bought them. You’re the only person in the office who would know how much he valued that specific book series, but Seungcheol is the only one in the office who makes overspending and spoiling his employees a habit. 

Especially Chan. 

“Fuck, it’s hard,” he admits, gaze settling on Seungcheol, finally. “You, boss?” 

Seungcheol chuckles, the motion of it shaking the back of your chair. You can feel his thumb brushing back and forth on your shoulder, soothing and warm. It feels nice, the champagne turning his touch molten. 

“Nope,” Seungcheol answers, popping the ‘p’ sharply at the end. “Sorry, Channie.” 

Chan’s blush intensifies as he drops his gaze, shaking his head. He cradles the books close to him, possessive. He spares you a glance when he says, “Whoever bought these is far too nice of a santa. I don’t deserve this.” 

He does deserve it. Chan is the youngest member of your company and by far the hardest working and the sweetest. Over the last two years, you’ve watched him grow from the shy, nervous junior employee to a full time member of the staff who is… still shy, but a little more confident in his work with an incredible mindset. 

Sure, your opinion of him is a little bit biased. Chan is your work husband, the person you’re closest to and who you can always go to when you need to vent about Mingyu fucking up your spreadsheets or for help when you have a last minute firedrill to solve. 

Despite, of course, your actual boyfriend being a few yards away in his executive office. 

Seungcheol doesn’t mind that Chan is your work husband. In fact, he adores it, teasing you when you get shy after vehemently praising Chan during a meeting or nominating him to take more responsibility to prove himself. He likes that Chan has you to take care of him, to lead him through the corporate world when Seungcheol is too buried underneath meetings and paperwork to do so. 

Someone else starts opening a gift, but your eyes are reserved for Chan. You lean into Seungcheol’s touch, eyes fluttering when his hand moves from your shoulder to the back of your neck. His grip is firm, kneading the muscles along the back of your neck until you’re melting. Your grip tightens on the flute of champagne a little, the plastic nearly cracking under your grip. 

When secret santa has finished, you stand up to help gather the leftover wrapping paper. Coworkers filter out into the main office, turning up the music and dancing around the cubicles as another bottle is popped. You help shove wrapping paper into a trash bag with Joshua, feeling a little dizzy and warm from the bubbles. 

A hand on your lower back makes you straighten. Seungcheol leans down, mouth brushing against your ear when he murmurs, “Go wait in my office. I’ll bring Chan in for his real gift.” 

Your stomach flips at that. You glance at Joshua to see if he notices, but there is nothing to notice. Everyone knows that you and Seungcheol are together - you’ve been dating for five years. He limits his affection in the office, but it's not uncommon for him to press a quick kiss to your head or leave his hand lingering on you for too long. 

Clearing your throat, you nod and let Seungcheol take over balling up the wrapping paper. You’re not drunk but you feel the buzz of champagne and excitement as you hurry toward Seungcheol’s office at the far end, away from where everyone has gathered around Soonyoung’s cubicle to take shots. 

Inside of Seungcheol’s office is dark. The blinds are shuttered so no one can see from the main bullpen inward. Lights glitter beyond the floor to ceiling windows, the city awash in color underneath the light sky, giving the illusion that the world is blanketed in Christmas lights. 

A heavy desk sits in the far side of the room with towering bookshelves behind it. Seungcheol’s monitor is off and his leather chair is pushed into the desk. In front of the desk is a sitting area, equipped with a full leather sofa, glass coffee table, and two arm chairs. 

You go for the sofa, hands shaking as you sit down, pressing the hem of your skirt down your thighs. Swallowing thickly, your eyes dart toward the door when you hear the volume of singing suddenly increase out in the main office. You grin, shaking your head when you realize it’s because Seungkwan has figured out how to use his portable karaoke machine gifted to him by Jeonghan. 

Shadows pass by the window. You stiffen, leaning forward and placing your hands in your lap when Seungcheol opens the door, letting Chan enter first before he slips in after, flipping the lock. Chan immediately stops in his tracks, looking at you before his eyes dart back to Seungcheol. 

Your heart races, watching carefully as Seungcheol starts to undo his tie, slipping a finger underneath the knot to pull it, walking toward you. The action hypnotizes you, your attention solely on him as he finishes undoing it, tossing it onto an armchair before his fingers work the topmost button of his shirt loose.

He sees the nervous look on your face and he wings, his grin lopsided as he rounds the couch to stand behind you. 

“Take a seat,” Seungcheol tells Chan, his hand landing on your shoulder. You react instantly, leaning into the warmth of his hand, nuzzling his forearm a bit. Chan follows Seungcheol’s instructions, his steps slow and full of trepidation. “We don’t bite, Channie.” 

You huff and Seungcheol chuckles darkly in response, amending, “Usually.” 

Chan is the picture of anxiety, wringing his hands in his lap and looking up at Seungcheol through his glasses with wide eyes. His gaze darts to you only for a second before he licks his lips and looks back up at Seungcheol, shifting back and forth in the armchair as he watches the elder. 

“Relax,” Seungcheol laughs. “You’re not in trouble. I told you she had a second part to her gift.”

“The first one is too much,” Chan drops his gaze to you. He picks at his cuticles, showing he’s as nervous as you feel. “You shouldn’t have. The rules were no more than fifty dollars.”

“It was too good not to.” He softens. “I wanted you to have it.”

“You deserve it,” Seungcheol agrees. His hand massages your shoulder, fingers brushing across your skin. You shiver under his touch, watching Chan as his eyes zero in on where Seungcheol’s hand is on your neck. He licks his lips, shifting. “That’s not the only thing she wanted to give you, though.” 

Chan chews his bottom lip. You feel skittish, twisting your fingers in the hem of your dress. You and Seungcheol had broached this subject several times before, though this is the first time you’re committing to voicing your thoughts to Chan. 

Suddenly faced with having to give him your proposition, you’re terrified. What if he says no? Worse, what if you upset him or make him uncomfortable? It’s a huge risk, what you’re asking, especially with the position that Seungcheol is in as your boss. 

The weight of how bad of an idea this is hits you fully. You open and close your mouth, unable to voice your offer to him, the question dying on your tongue.

Seungcheol’s fingers are still on your shoulder. He leans down, tilting forward to catch your gaze with his. His eyes are dark and calm, a cool lake undisturbed by anything, a constant you can always look to when you’re afraid to do something. You root yourself in his gaze, letting his proximity wash over you, comforting. 

Taking a deep breath, you remind yourself this question isn’t coming out of nowhere. Neither you nor Seungcheol would bring Chan here to the office in the dark, away from everyone else if you weren’t borderline positive what his answer would be. 

“I wanted to um…” Your voice is hoarse, cracking with nervousness. You swallow, dropping your eyes into your lap, feeling both of their gazes. “Jeonghan said you kind of had a crush on us.” 

You peek up at Chan to find him white in the face. His mouth parts in horror and you realize this isn’t going the way you planned, your nervousness driving you to the wrong path. 

Seungcheol sees it too, giving you a gentle squeeze and telling Chan, “What she means, but is very bad at saying because she’s nervous, is that she wanted to give you a taste.” 

Silence hangs heavy in the air. Outside of Seungcheol’s office, you hear Mingyu singing All I Want for Christmas Is You. It feels apt, both you and Seungcheol staring at Chan as he looks back at both of you, mouth parted in surprise, chest rising and falling with how heavy he’s breathing now.

“I don’t… understand,” he says finally, addressing Seungcheol. 

“I think you do.” Chan starts to shake his head and Seungcheol tsks, sending a lick of heat down to your core. You know that voice better than anything, and the sound of it turns the air heady. “You can say no. This is the worst place possible for us to be offering this to you and I understand the implications of it coming from… well me. You’re under no obligation and we can go on pretending it didn’t happen.” 

“Jeonghan didn’t mean to tell me.” you tell Chan. “But when he did… I wasn’t mad. I told Cheol and he was pleased to.” You look up at Seungcheol, who smiles at you affectionately. His hand drifts to the back of your head, cradling it carefully. “He likes you too. And me - I like you.” 

“You like me?” 

You nod eagerly as Seungcheol grips your head and faces you back toward Chan. “So I was thinking… you could have an extra gift. If you wanted it. To see if you liked it.” 

“And what does… a taste involve?” Chan asks the question softly, his eyes flickering between you and Seungcheol. “Help me understand better.” 

“Her,” Seungcheol answers. “Whatever you want.” He pauses and smirks, adding, “You’re not ready for me. So just her… for now, if you want.”

Multiple emotions flit past Chan’s face. Confusion. Fear. Indecision. Anxiety. Desire. 

You see the desire there, the way he settles his eyes on you, dark and swimming with want. He doesn’t move, the silence filling the room as Seungcheol let’s Chan choose. You feel your own desire welling up inside of you, a shy and skittish thing that is perhaps too breakable to be offering this way. 

Chan is your mirror. You can see yourself in him, the want that lurks beneath a shallow surface, a fragile thing that he wants to handle but is too afraid that it’ll shatter. You lift a hand from your lap, reaching forward, palm up. Reaching for Chan, reaching for the thread that connected you since the first day he started. 

Your hand wavers there for a second, an invitation, a moment of vulnerability. Just when you think he’s going to reject you, Chan surges forward slowly, extending his hand toward yours. A smile lights up your face, growing even wider when his fingers tentatively skate over yours, rough and unsure. 

Tugging on him gently, you urge Chan from the armchair toward the couch. He’s like a frightened animal, eyes darting toward Seungcheol like he might intervene when he sits next to you, close enough to smell his juniper cologne but farther than you want him to be. 

Seungcheol lets go of your shoulder, walking around the opposite side of the couch. Chan looks at Seungcheol, alarm on his face. The elder chuckles roughly, sitting on your other side a little ways away and murmuring, “Relax, Channie. I’m just sitting down.” 

To further ease his anxiety, you pull Chan’s hand into your lap, lacing your fingers and squeezing. He looks at your linked fingers, marveling at them. It takes him a moment, but he squeezes your hand in return. 

“Can you look at me?” You ask, voice barely above a whisper. 

He does. Chan finally looks at you, gaze raw and burning. Your toes curl when you see the amount of want there, the way his need is right on the surface, simmering. His eyes trace your features, scanning your face to the curve of your neck, dipping lower, lips parted as he drinks you in full. 

“What… What now?” He asks, dragging his eyes back up to yours. 

“Try kissing her.” Seungcheol leans back behind you, supervising. His voice is gentle and coaxing. “She likes kissing.” 

Chan looks at you, asking for permission. You smile, nodding eagerly as you tug on his hand. He obeys, sliding closer to you, thigh pressed against yours. Even through the fabric of his pants, you can feel the heat of his leg wash through you, intoxicating. 

He leans in slowly, his eyes darting toward your mouth as he does. You meet him halfway, breath shaking as you softly press your lips against his. His lips are soft and tentative, nose brushing yours gently. You sigh, leaning into the kiss, making it a little firmer. 

It’s innocent, but you feel the way his fingers tighten in yours, a gentle sound stuck in the back of his throat. You pull away slightly, lashes fluttering open to peer at him. You see your half-lidded eyes in the reflection of his glasses until he opens his eyes.

The urge to have him grows tenfold. Chan’s pupils are blown, the hungry look in his eye raw and real. It makes you surge forward, kissing him for real, letting the hunger for him channel through your mouth. He makes a sound low in the back of his throat, desperate and whiny as you school closer, leg looping over his to keep him in place. 

Letting go of his hand, you bring it up to his face, threading your fingers through his hair. His mouth is warm and wet as he kisses you slowly, tasting of champagne and the frosting of the cupcake he had earlier - sweet, just like him. 

Kissing Chan is unlike kissing Seungcheol. Chan is sweet and slow, running his tongue against the seam of your mouth tentatively while his hands go to your thighs, barely giving you a squeeze. Seungcheol’s kisses are demanding and all consuming, bruising your lips as he swallows you whole. 

Parting, Chan kisses the corner of your mouth, hesitating and glancing over your shoulder where he can no doubt see Seungcheol. Seungcheol must reassure him, because Chan smirks and leans forward, pressing open-mouthed kisses on your jaw. 

Your head falls back, lips parted. His tongue is rough against your skin as he tastes you, a mix of tongue and teeth working toward your neck. Your fingers twist in his hair, blunt nails scraping at his scalp and making him groan quietly. 

“She likes when you bite her a little,” Seungcheol supplies from behind you. You feel the couch shift as he moves closer, his warmth radiating toward you as he settles directly behind you. His voice makes you shiver when he says, “Right under her ear - yeah like that.” 

Chan’s teeth nip at the soft flesh under your ear and you keen, melting at his touch. He grows more confident at the sound, his hands drifting to your waist, squeezing and holding you tight. You lean backward into the heat of Seungcheol, trapped between the two of them. 

It makes you dizzy. Seungcheol is firm behind you, keeping you pressed toward Chan, who is kissing his way to your shoulder, eager for more of you. One of his hands runs up your side, sliding up your arm until it settles on the side of your neck, his fingers gently pulling you to give more access. 

You keen and Seungcheol laughs behind you, muttering, “Hear the little sounds she makes? She loves when you touch her neck.” 

“Mmmm.” Chan presses kisses to the tops of your shoulders, looking up at you through his glasses. “What else does she like?” 

“If you want to see her come apart, eat her out.” Chan moans, burying his face in your neck. You shiver, feeling his hot breath against your spit-slick skin. “Yeah?” Seungcheol laughs. “Dying to taste her, huh?” 

“Fuck,” Chan whispers. He lifts his head from your neck, breathing ragged as he looks at you, cradling your face in his hands. 

You look up at him through your lashes, dazed. He looks so good in the dim light of Seungcheol’s office, his hair a little disheveled, glasses a little eskew. 

“Do you want that?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper. His thumb brushes back and forth across your jaw, pausing to brush along the corner of your lip. You nod eagerly, unable to find the words and tell him that is exactly what you want. “Fuck. Yeah. Okay.” 

Chan sinks to the ground. Seungcheol plants his foot against the coffee table, pushing it back slowly to give Chan room. The younger looks up at you reverently and you feel your breath catch, watching as Chan settles on his knees, hands reaching to brush gently up your calves.

His touch is like fire. It feels too hot in Seungcheol’s office, sweat collecting on the back of your neck and along your hairline. You squeeze your thighs together at Chan’s gentle touch and he grins up at you, keeping his fingers feather light and teasing as he skims them up your thighs toward your dress. 

Seungcheol leans you against him, pressing his lips to the side of your temple. Chan leans forward, placing an open mouth kiss on your knee. You twitch, knee nearly knocking him in the face. Seungcheol admonishes you softly, reaching down to pry your right leg open and drape it over his, resting his arm over your knee to keep you pried open.

Chan’s hands continue to caress your skin, the drag of his fingers driving you wild. You stare down at him, panting slightly as he looks up at you. He maintains eye contact as he drags his mouth to kiss your inner thigh, watching as you react with a sigh. 

He moves his mouth upward slowly, each kiss firm but gentle, his lips blazing a trail upward. You feel your core ache for him, a hot, throbbing need that makes you whine a little bit, shifting in Seungcheol’s grip. 

Chan pauses but Seungcheol promises, “She’s fine. She’s very needy.” 

A grin splits Chan’s face as he presses another kiss to the softness of your thigh, followed by biting gently. That gets a reaction out of you, your hips twitching upward and your hands shooting to grip the couch with one hand and Seungcheol’s forearm with the other. 

“She loves when you start slow,” Seungcheol murmurs. Chan nods, taking his elder’s guidance in step. His hands creep toward the hem of your dress, hesitating. “Go ahead.” 

Your breath gets stuck in your throat when Chan pushes the hem of your dress upward. The newly exposed skin feels cold in Seungcheol’s darkened office. Chan bunches the fabric at your hips and Seungcheol reaches around the back of your waist to hold it in place. 

With one hand on your spread knee and the other locked around your waist, Seungcheol has you pinned. The thought makes your eyes flutter, head tilting back as you watch Chan drink you in, his eyes dropping to the lacy underwear.

His mouth resumes its curious travel, kissing the tops of your thighs as his fingers brush the edges of your underwear. You let out a breathy whine and he smiles but doesn’t stop this time, teasing the crease of your thighs with his devilish finger while he gives a harsh suck to your skin. 

Chan rests his chin atop your thigh, eyes focusing on the wet patch of your under. He dips a hand between your legs, pressing the flat of his thumb against the dark spot on the fabric. You give a high pitched whine, fidgeting in Seungcheol’s grip. Chan grins, wiggling his thumb back and forth a little to apply pressure to your clit.

It is heaven. It is hell. Chan’s eyes drift back and forth from where he teases you to your face, unable to decide which he likes watching more. Seungcheol watches him with a smirk, his hold on you like iron, hot breath fanning your ear as he whispers for you to behave for Chan. 

You want to. You want to more than anything else right now, completely forgetting about the party going on outside the office, forgetting the way you’d been afraid to ask Chan if he wants this, forgetting anything else but the look in Chan’s eyes as he hooks his fingers in your underwear and pulls them down.

Lacy fabric scrapes down your skin slow-soft. It is delicious torture. Chan handles you like you’re something precious, something to be loved and treated with care. Your thoughts turn to static, totally hypnotized by the way he peels your underwear from your legs and tosses them somewhere else. His eyes are half-lidded as he stares at your glistening cunt, groaning low in the back of his throat at what he sees. 

Chan slides his hands under your thighs, dragging you toward him a little. Seungcheol helps, peppering your face with butterfly-soft kisses as he slides you down the couch. You’re nearly folded in half as Seungcheol adjusts himself so that he’s sitting behind you with you between his legs. He grabs your thighs, hooking them on the outer edges of his knees to keep you open for Chan, who slides closer, licking his lips. 

“Look how wet she is for you,” Seungcheol purrs. You glance up at him. His dark eyes are focused on Chan, mouth twitching in a smirk. “Start slow. She likes you to build up to it.” 

Chan glances at Seungcheol and nods before his eyes fall to you. Dark. Hungry. Wanting. To see your deepest desire reflected in Chan’s eyes makes you insane. You’d only guessed at his affection for you and Seungcheol, but the fierceness of it drives you wild. 

So does his mouth. Chan drags his mouth up your thighs, kissing delicately. You hold your breath, fixated on him as he audibly plants another kiss before he moves to your center, hesitating. You try not to squirm and move closer, try not to force yourself on his mouth.

He can tell. He gives you a cock grin, letting out a huff before dipping forward, running his tongue up your center and oh oh oh. Your head falls back against Seungcheol’s shoulder, breath locked in your chest. Chan’s tongue is warm and wet, sliding up and down your pussy at a leisurely pace.

Then he moans. Your fingers dig into Seungcheol’s thighs, making him hiss. He hooks his chin on your shoulder, watching as Chan’s tongue circles your aching clit slowly before dipping back down. 

You’re burning, melting, disintegrating. Pleasure ripples through you when Chan dips his tongue tentatively into your clenching hole. That earns a loud moan from you. Seungcheol quickly hushes you, reminding you that you can’t be loud with a harsh whisper. 

A whimper falls from your lips. Chan grunts, closing his eyes as he fastens his mouth to your cunt, suckling gently. You throb under his mouth. He looks up at you, eyes misty as he flicks his tongue back and forth over your clit. 

“Like that,” Seungcheol encourages when you thrash. “She likes it kind of messy too - spit on it.” 

Chan is obedient. He dips his tongue into your cunt, gathering arousal before he lifts his mouth, smeared in your slick, and spits directly on your pussy. You let out a loud sound that is cut off by Seungcheol’s mouth on yours, stealing you in a devouring kiss. 

One hand shoots to Seungcheol’s forearm to cling to him, the other to Chan’s hair when he reattaches his mouth. He moans audibly against you, the sound buzzing right through you to the pit of your stomach. He redoubles his effort, licking and sucking at you vigorously now to match the pace of Seungcheol’s tongue. 

They both swallow you whole. It’s overwhelming the best way, Seungcheol pressing you into his chest as he steals the breath from your lungs, Chan pressing your legs further apart as he buries his face between your legs, little sounds of pleasure dripping from his mouth as he loses himself in you. 

Seungcheol parts with you for a moment, lips swollen and pink as he looks down at Chan and grins. He reaches down, running his fingers through Chan’s hair gently, making the younger groan. 

“Look at him,” Seungcheol coos. “He’s been dying to taste you, huh Chan?” 

“Mhmm.” Chan licks a hard stripe from top to bottom. “So fucking good.”

“Tell him how good he’s doing baby,” Seungcheol whispers, pressing his mouth to your ear. “He’s working so hard for you.” 

“Feels so good,” you gasp as Chan sucks your clit hard. You thrash in Seungcheol’s lap but he holds you still. Chan pins you down too, fingers gripping your thighs as he gets greedier, flattening his tongue and whipping his head back and forth. “Fuck fuck fuck - Chan.” 

“Just like that, Chan.” Seungcheol keeps running his fingers through Chan’s hair affectionately. “She’s gonna come for you, right baby?” 

All you can manage is a nod. You’re beyond the capacity for words, feeling your orgasm twist low in your stomach as Chan works your toward its peak. It feels like he drags you there screaming, the pressure building as he keeps going and going and going-

You break. Seungcheol’s hand clamps over your mouth and you cry through his palm, hips twitching and legs straining against both of their hands as you cum hard. Chan doesn’t care, pressing even further, drinking you in as your clit pulses in his mouth. 

When you quiet down, Seungcheol lets go of your mouth, hushing you with soft kisses as you whimper. Chan’s tongue busies itself as he leisurely licks your thighs, catching stray drops of arousal. You sag against your boyfriend, panting. He rubs his hands up and down your aching thighs. 

“More,” Chan murmurs, words a little slurred as he presses a sloppy kiss to your thigh. He inches closer to your messy folds, hesitating. “Can you take more? Please tell me you can.”

You nod and Seungcheol hums, pleased. “She can.” 

Looking between your legs, you watch as Chan grabs his glasses and rips them off his face, tossing them somewhere behind him. Your stomach flips at the site, lips parted and gasping when he dives back in, fucking you with his tongue. 

“Shit,” you squeak, hands flying to his hair, wrapping your fingers in his locks and twisting. He doesn’t mind the sting, too focused on you. “Oh my god.”

Seungcheol chuckles darkly. “Fuck, he’s hot. Use your fingers, Channie.” 

Nodding eagerly, Chan complies. He’s eager to comply, bringing a hand up between your legs. You hiss when he slides a finger in, the glide easy from your first orgasm. He removes his mouth from you, panting and lips swollen as his eyes focus on where he gently fucks you with his finger. 

“Another,” Seungcheol recommends. 

Chan does. He slides another finger in, tilting his wrist so that they brush just right. You moan his name, throaty and worn. Chan hums happily, kissing his way back up to your clit where he wraps his lips, sucking gently as he sets a slow pace with his fingers. 

It only lasts for a few moments before his pace increases, feeling the way you squeeze tight around him, hearing the way your breath turns shaky and uneven, watching the way you continue to grow slick with sweat. 

He fixates on your face, sucking at you hungrily in time with his fingers, driving you toward another release. Seungcheol’s mouth finds your jaw, teeth nipping and tongue soothing. Again you’re pulled between the two of them, feeling stretched thin and overwhelmed by their mouths.

“I’m gonna,” You gasp, shaking in their grip. They both can tell. Seungcheol bites your neck a little harder, sucking the soft skin between his teeth. Chan turns ravenous, nearly folding you in half as he pushes into you, the wet sounds from his mouth bracketed by your heavy breathing. “Fuck fuck fuck.”

Every muscle in your body squeezes with the force of your orgasm. You can’t breathe, stars exploding behind squeezed-shut lids, breath stuck in squeezed-tight lungs. You’re barely able to hear Seungcheol murmuring in your ear, only able to hear the high-pitched ringing as you hit the top of your high, suspended for a moment before you start to come down.

You go boneless against Seungcheol. You feel spent, sucking in breaths of air while Seungcheol rubs his hands up and down your arms and Chan presses butterfly-soft kisses to your inner thighs, his hands rubbing your calves. 

The three of you stay there like that for a bit, quiet in the dark of Seungcheol’s office with the distant singing of your coworkers. You feel a bit floaty and dreamy, stuck somewhere between nearly asleep and happily present. 

Chan shifts and you drop your eyes to him, seeing him looking around, a little unsure what to do. You and Seungcheol notice at the same time, both of you extending a hand to him. Chan’s smile is shy and tentative, taking both of your hands and letting you pull him to his feet to collapse on the couch next to you.

Immediately you squirm toward him, half falling out of Seungcheol’s lap to fall against Chan’s shoulder. He laughs, lifting his arms and hesitating for a second before he wraps them around you. His lips are pink and swollen, still covered in your arousal. 

“That,” you sigh. “Was better than I imagined.”

“You imagined it, though?” he asks, glancing at Seungcheol. “Both of you?”

“Mhmm.” Seungcheol leans forward and presses a kiss to the corner of Chan’s mouth, pink tongue darting out playfully. “Mmm. She tastes good.” 

Pink creeps up Chan’s neck and flushes his face. Seungcheol grins and you can tell he’s just as smitten as you, leaning his head against the back of the couch to watch Chan settle down. He drags his fingers in patterns on your arm, eyes losing focus. 

“Was this just for tonight?” Chan asks. There’s a note in his voice that makes you look up at him. You can tell he’s unsure, a little nervous. “Just for giving season or whatever?” 

Your voice is raspy with disuse. “Not if you don’t want it to be. Cheolie and I like you.” 

“Really?”

You lift a hand, brushing strands of hair back into his damp hairline. “Mhm. We want to keep you, if you’ll have us.” 

Chan chews on his bottom lip, contemplating. Seungcheol watches in silence, but you can tell by the way his fingers drum on your thigh that he’s nervous. He might exude calm and confident most of the time, but you know he hopes Chan will say yes - that he’s desperate for it. 

“I think I like that,” Chan says slowly, looking at you both. “I would like that, yeah.” 

Seungcheol grins, closing his eyes as he reaches over and runs a hand through Chan’s hair. “Good. Also - it’s always giving season at our house. So buckle up, Channie.” 

PERMANENT TAG LIST:

@ddaddunugu @ourkivee @tie-nn @cookiearmy @thesunsfullmoon @stray-bi-kids @ldysmfrst @thepoopdokyeomtouched @eoieopda @onlywon4u @hopeless-foolery @iamawkwardandshy @gyuguys @codeinebelle @ateez-atiny380 @bultaereume @yoongznme @kaitieskidmore97 @coffee-addict-kitten @gyubakeries @archivistworld @asyre @kaepjjangiya @fancypeacepersona @beckyloveshannie @imujings @do-you-remember-summer-127 @jbluen @mingumis @kimsaerom

[arc-misadventures]

The Beach: Ra

Jaune: Okay... wow she was seriously repressed... She really needed that...

Jaune: That was intense...

Jaune: I hope the scratch makes have healed...

Jaune: Hmmm...?

Jaune: Well, my aura's at full, so it should have been healed by now.

Jaune: Okay...

Jaune: I wonder if that video came out alright...

Jaune: Okay... Let's get going.

Jaune: Hmm... This side of the beach is pretty empty. I wonder why?

: It's because of all of the rocks, the tend to keep people away.

Jaune: The rocks? Well there's a lot of rocks, but why is the people staying away because of the rocks?

: People want to lie down on their beach towel, and suntan. Do you think people want to lie down on a hard jagged rock, instead of soft smooth sand?

Jaune: Hmm... That's a fair point... Wait. That voice sounds feminine? That's not the sound of my inner monologue! Who is speaking to me?!

: I'm over here~!

Jaune: Ah-ha! There you... are...?!

: Hello, Jaune~!

Jaune: H-Hi, Mrs. Branwen...

Raven: Didn't I tell you, Jaune: Call me, Raven~!

Jaune: Okay... R-Raven...

Raven: That's better~!

Jaune: S-So... Y-You're looking good... very, very good...

Raven: Oh, thank you~!

Jaune: S-So... What brings you over here...?

Raven: Oh, it's quiet. You don't see any screaming kids, whiney brats, dude bros...

Jaune: Those are good reasons...

Raven: And, since no one is coming here, I have this section of the beach all to myself~!

Jaune: Oh... Oh that sounds great, you don't have to deal with anyone's bullshit, because you're all alone.

Raven: Indeed it is. Now then, care to explain those scratch marks on your back?

Jaune: S-Scratch marks... what are you talking about...?

Raven: I can see the marks on your back, Jaune. So, care to explain yourself~?

Jaune: ...

Jaune: Yeah, it's pointless to deny it...

Raven: Well~?

Jaune: Haa... Okay, I slept with, Willow Schnee in the showers back there...

Raven: You fucked, Willow Schnee?!

Jaune: We all so filmed it, because she wanted to send it to, Jacques to show how a real man does it...

Raven: You filmed it, and sent it to, Jacques?! Fuck that's hot~!

Jaune: Yeah, will asked me to live out her kinks, and honestly... she made one hell of a deal. And, well... scratch marks...

Raven: So what were, Willow's kinks?

Jaune: Young man reshaping her guts, cucking, Jacques. Stuff like that.

Raven: Damn, Willow is a nasty girl~! And, I thought I was kinky; I'm into my lover being rough with me; Pulling my hair, calling me his bitch, taking it up the ass, breeding, things like that.

Jaune: Well... Yeah... I've heard that a lot today... seems pretty common...

Raven: I do like to do it in public.

Jaune: P-Public?

Raven: Yeah, in public, some place where I could get caught being railed by some hot young sexy stud~! In a place like this for example...

Jaune: T-This place...?

Raven: Yeah, behind those rocks. I mean, how many people wouldn't like to live out the fantasy of taking a sexy piece of ass behind a boulder at the beach~!

Jaune: At the beach...

Raven: So... what do you say, Jaune? You interested in living out this old gals fantasy~?

Jaune: ...

Jaune: Where's the best place to do this?

Raven: I found a nice place over there~!

Jaune: Okay, let's go!

Raven: Oh, and to warn you, Jaune: I'm a screamer.

Jaune: Oh, well it looks like you may get that audience like you asked for~!

Raven: If they're a sexy girl, can we invite her to join us? I love having threesomes with my wife. Having one at the beach... Oh gods, doesn't that sound so fucking hot~!

Jaune: Why do you call her over here, she can join us while we're at it~! She'll know where we are based on your screams~!

Raven: FUCK YES~!

///

Here's one for you @lar-mx Enjoy!

Link to Original Post.

[lsunstreakerl]

congrats on ur test!!!! would LOVE to hear ur thoughts on a/b/o or the maxussy!!

thank you!! time to study for the next one!

...yeah uh. 1.2k words. semi-explicit, mature content

Being off suppressants is fucking annoying. Max doesn't care that his dose was "an ethical violation" or that he's "lucky it didn't get worse", or any of the other things doctors keep telling him- he was perfectly content with where he was at.

Sure, his nose didn't work great, and he had difficulties picking out the subtle notes in scents, and now the entire world thinks he's an asshole- thank god for being Dutch- and maybe it should have bothered him that he can't make a real nest, but.

All of that was fine. Max was okay with it- didn't want to be an omega, didn't want anything to do with it. The pills had been fine, until he got stuck for a few extra days in Bahrain and ran out.

And then he'd had a heat crisis in the airport, and it hadn't even been about getting fucked, he'd just-

It's pathetic. Max doesn't want to think about it. He's still not sure he can look his team in the eyes, not after forcing them to stay in his terrible makeshift nest, crying out whenever one of them tried to leave, burying his nose against their scent glands and gripping GP's jacket so hard he's pretty sure he put holes in it.

Christian had made him see the team doctor after that.

Apparently, omegas without any kind of solid pack or mating bond are more susceptible to heat crisis. Since Max obviously doesn't have an alpha, his instincts had latched onto the team instead. It's humiliating.

The team doctor had asked if he was involved in the drivers pack at all, and Max had recoiled so hard he'd almost hit his head on the wall.

No, no he's not. Lewis is the pack alpha, and Seb is the pack omega, and neither of them like Max very much, so it's a bit of a no brainer. The suppressants made everyone think he was just a particularly aggressive beta anyways, so-

Max has not ever been a part of the drivers pack. He's not even been in the pack room.

So, no drivers pack. No garage pack either, bad Max, that's not how garage dynamics are supposed to work. No alpha, no pack at all, and Max is on a complete suppressant cleanse, which is all to say-

Everything smells like a lot, and he's got three fingers inside of himself and still can't get off. It's infuriating.

He's got a "cresting-heat" or some shit- he didn't read the pamphlet. It comes and goes in waves, and right now he's definitely on a wave, panting into his sheets as he fruitlessly tries to find the right angle.

He's doing it more to meet a need than because he wants to, which has been driving him nuts. Being off the suppressants has made him hornier than he's ever been in his life, but he can't think of any good fantasies, and he'll die before he orders a fucking toy for it.

Max groans and rolls onto his side, tries to find a different angle, but nothings working. He keeps burying his face in different spots on the bed, where he's put together a genuinely awful nest, but there's not a strong enough scent to satisfy the instinct in his head. It's all snagged caps and stolen mechanics gloves, team jackets left unattended on chairs for slightly too long.

It's none of what Max really wants- hoodies and shirts. He has-

Wait.

Max rolls onto his back, and braces himself as he slides his fingers out, but it doesn't prevent the mournful noise he makes at the sensation.

This sucks.

He wipes his hand off before sliding out of the nest, letting his nose lead him more than anything, which is still weird.

There's a sweatshirt tossed over the back of his couch from a few months ago, when Daniel was last over.

Daniel had come straight from the pack room.

Hopefully, if Max is lucky-

He brings it to his nose, and they're stale, but they're there.

This will have to work.

He brings it back to the nest, tossing it down and immediately burying his face in it.

It smells like Daniel, and also like some of the other pack members, scents that Max doesn't quite recognize.

He shifts his head slightly, because there's something-

The scent he catches hits a switch in his brain.

Max isn't entirely sure what happened, other than he smells it and suddenly he gets it. He's gone liquid soft in the bed, muscles relaxed, there's a frankly humiliating amount of wetness between his thighs that was't there a moment ago, and he's really rethinking that decision not to buy a toy.

Fuck that smells nice.

Someone's moaning like a fucking whore, and Max buries his face further, he can never go into the pack room now- if he finds out which alpha this scent belongs to he's going to jump them.

God, but maybe they'd let him, maybe that alpha would be so sweet, would let Max climb them like a tree and ride them to tears, and maybe they'd even let Max snuggle up to them afterwards, maybe they'd be just the right amount of mean, tell Max if he wants it so bad he'll have to work for it, and maybe-

Max curls his fingers and drops his head back, and oh, it's him- he's the one moaning, fingers working inside him just right, and he takes another deep inhale, trying to imagine the different alphas in the pack-

It's not Daniel, even though his deep wood scent permeates through, adding a level of comfort, like he's watching over Max even now, heat soaked and desperate.

Fuck, maybe it's Carlos, and he'd be so nice, large hands wrapping around Max, and he'd be just right, put Max on his knees, maybe he'd tell him he's being good-

His head drops back with a keen, and everything is so much.

Maybe it's Lewis, and the thought of an alpha, the pack alpha, finally approving of Max, taking care of him like the others- he'd be responsible about it, coax Max open on his fingers, let Max hide his face while he fucked him-

Fuck, Max has never felt like this before, like he's climbing higher and higher, no end in sight.

Maybe- he works his fingers again, a pathetic noise falling from his mouth, and he knows it's bad, knows he shouldn't, knows he's going to regret it later-

Maybe it's Charles.

Max comes with a cry, legs shaking as his hips twist up from the bed, because he wants- he wants more than anything, like some terrible movie omega, knot-dumb and stupid, panting after an alpha who doesn't want him, but the thought of it-

He collapses back, chest heaving. For a moment, things are hazy and easy, nose buried in Daniel's sweatshirt, hips weakly grinding into the mattress through the aftershocks.

He takes a steadying breath, easing his fingers out with a wince. The wave is gone, and now he just feels sticky and disgusting and alone.

Max sighs. He needs to shower, change out his sheets, send Daniel's sweatshirt to the dry cleaners, and then he's going to order takeout and wallow in shame about using his coworkers to get off.

Being off suppressants sucks.

[sapphiresaphics]

^^^———

This kinda stuff pisses me off because (again) you shouldn’t NEED to exaggerate things to be mad about it.

1. No one is saying it’s not lethal. ALL things can be lethal in excessive quantities and exposures. What we ARE saying is that the show does not SAY that it is lethal to breathe in, and in fact the show goes out of its way to show multiple people being able to handle the grey and deal with it in small doses. That’s important information you’re glossing over… the duration of the exposure.

2. Nowhere does Arcane say that people were dying en mass. The show DOES show that the grey presented an ongoing problem with continued exposure to the workers in the mines. This is reinforced multiple times, as both Vander and Silco worked in the mines and breathed the toxic air. The show presents what CAN happen to prolonged exposure… but the timeframe for exposure is left off the table. You DO NOT KNOW if that exposure is within minutes or years. Again: both Vander and Silco worked in the mines with the toxic gases and they ended up okay without fantasy cancer. So clearly the length of prolonged exposure MATTERS.

3. Yes, the gas made you choke and you struggled to breathe. That’s very clear. But the grey giving to cancer as a result? It is dependent on the person and their exposure. Not everyone who breathes it in will develop fantasy cancer as a result. If that were true, then Silco basically gave all the chem-barons fantasy cancer when he pulled his power play stunt back in Season 1. So once again, you guys are SPECULATING and you are INVENTING the severity based on information that isn’t entirely clear to us.

4. Case in point: Viktor. Skye and Viktor are shown playing in the toxic waters outside of a toxic cave. Skye didn’t develop fantasy cancer, but Viktor did. And part of that is likely due to the fact that his immune system was likely more compromised than Skye’s because of his being born crippled. Additionally, he spends a good chunk of his childhood feeding toxic plants to Rio with Singe in the toxic caves to create Shimmer. I have to suspect that that sort of exposure was NOT good for Viktor’s longterm health, wouldn’t you agree?

5. Once again you are using real life chemical warfare to hypothesize about a fantasy chemical and gas. The grey is not shown to spread much at all. Ekko repeatedly says that the air is denser down in the fissures and that results in the grey NOT behaving like normal gas. We see the gas almost snake its way into the buildings like a living thing. And we are shown that just outside of areas where a building is filled with the grey, it does NOT leak out.

This is important information because we are repeatedly shown that Caitlyn’s use of the grey is TACTICAL and STRATEGIC. She pumps it into specific targeted areas to clear the streets and incapacitate the chem barons and their goons. You cannot say that she “gassed the whole city” when the show GOES OUT OF ITS WAY to show that she is targeting SPECIFIC AREAS and that the grey DOES NOT dissipate and flow like normal gas.

So let’s recap what the SHOW presents to us:

The Grey is factory gas (man made) trapped underground. Exposure to the gas makes it very hard to breathe but not impossible. Many people in the show have been exposed to the gas for long periods of time and did not develop fantasy cancer. Everyone who is exposed to it in short bursts is seen recovering within minutes. The gas does not flow like normal gas and does not seem to seep out into the streets. When the grey is detected people DO NOT STAY AROUND it and leave (clear the streets) to avoid dealing with the adverse side effects. And the only person truly affected by the gasses in the fissures to the point that he’s slowly dying is a person who was born crippled and impaired and who willingly exposed himself to more of the danger than normal people did.

So when we look at it from this perspective, Caitlyn using the gas is still bad. She could potentially be hurting people long term, yes. But she’s also using it as a way to prevent more people from being hurt by a massive invasion and is actively using the grey in highly targeted areas. Zaun is MILES large, a single building on one side of the city getting pumped full of grey is not going to harm people miles away on the other side of the city. So this assertion that she “gassed the city” is just hyperbolic and misleading. We are even shown that they don’t even use it in the streets much if at all because they travel through the pipes pumping the grey in themselves.

You should be mad about Caitlyn using the grey. It’s a DIRTY TRICK to use it this way. Absolutely.

But you DON’T need to exaggerate the effects of it and make it seem like she’s fantasy Hitler gassing the city of Zaun like Auschwitz, you weirdos.

[sufferu]

YOU know the implications of the Alternate BTZ is honestly horrifying from Subaru's perspective. Like imagine if the girl you liked just up and sold you to a man you barely knew and humiliated you in front of the entire country and worded it as if your actions warranted this punishment. Like...WTF? Even worse I can imagine Subaru justifying this. His self-worth is bad enough already, now imagine if it went so far that he felt that Emilia had every right to sell off a useless person like him. Because in his head Emilia did nothing wrong. He messed up. MIND you Subaru would have no idea if slavery was legal in this world at all. It doesn't help that Julius's harsh words and how the other members of the Anastasia camp act around him that they literally view him as nothing more then a useless burden and at worst trash and - and he can't blame them for that can he...

Anastasia = Villainous Merchant Princess who Subaru has heard rumors of how she's ruthlessly crushes her competition if they stand in her way.

Julius = Perfect Knight on the inside. A monster on the inside who constantly taunts and belittles Subaru and treats him as if he were some sort of pet!

Ricardo = Big Scary Wolf man who threatens to hurt Subaru if he so much as breaths the wrong way.

Pearlbatons: Tiny terrors who play cruel pranks on Subaru which cause things to break and leads to him getting into trouble and having more time added onto his SENTENCE and - and it's a lot okay!

Iron Fang Mercenary: A bunch of hardened warriors who are constantly watching and waiting for him to mess up again. They all hate him or see him as Julius's pet and he can't go anywhere without them watching him and their ALWAYS watching him.

Emilia: A kind and caring girl unless you cross her at which point your nothing but a useless burden whose better off sold to the competition for an alliance. (Side Note: Probably be downright devious if somewhere along the line Subaru learns of the Emilia's camps alliance with Anastasia and some badly placed words leads to Subaru to concluding that Emilia selling Subaru to Julius led her to gaining a partnership with the Anastasia camp and well - he's not totally wrong lmao

Double Side Note: Subaru has mixed reactions about his relationship with Emilia and wonders if she was only tolerating him due to debt she owed him which he assumes was cleared when he was taken in by Anastasia who he now owes a massive DEBT too. Subaru feels sick.

AKA: All of this completely douses, lights and burns all of Subaru's fantasy expectations to dust. These people are evil incarnate and he doesn't want to be here. He wants to go HOME! (que late night crying cessions)

Isn’t it great?? :D

I actually really love your addition about how it looks like Emilia legitimately just traded him away as a slave, that’s really fun~ Poor Subaru. This whole place is terrible. He thought he could at least trust Emilia, and now this?? Subaru wants his mom. Subaru really, REALLY wants his mom—!

One more addition, just for fun: Subaru doesn’t have his own room, in this version. When he was at the Karsten Estate he was literally surrounded by an actual army in the middle of the nation’s Capital, but Anastasia doesn’t have that level of security. She has a good deal of it and all, but not to the point where she’s alright with leaving him unsupervised for twelve hours a day without anyone in arm’s reach if Something Happens. Thus, Julius has remodeled his own room so that there’s room for a second bed, and — yeah, so, Subaru doesn’t even really feel like he can cry himself to sleep at night anymore.

…There’s a reason he barely lasts two months.

[m4rv3l-girl]

“You made a List?” - Part 4 (Blood Play)

Bucky x Y/N

Y/N made an interesting to-do list, Bucky wants to tick them all off..

Warnings: Smut. (Period) Blood Play. Protected p in v sex. Fingering. Oral f!recieving. Handjob.

Y/N had never really been shy with Bucky. It was one of the things she loved most about what they had - he made her feel safe, seen. Even when she wanted to crawl into herself, even when she felt like she was too much or not enough, he just had this way of looking at her like she hung the stars. And that was before she started compiling a list.

The infamous list.

What had started as a joke between them had quickly turned into a very real set of ideas, little fantasies scribbled down in the margins of a notebook, half-formed thoughts turning into real experiences. So far, they’d checked off a few - things she never thought she’d have the courage to ask for, things she wasn’t sure Bucky would even consider. But he had. And he had done so with patience, with care, with that damnable smirk when he realized just how much she liked the things they tried.

Tonight was a bit different, though.

Y/N curled up against him on the couch, her fingers toying with the edge of the notebook. She could feel his eyes on her, waiting, knowing her tells too well by now. He didn’t push, but he was watching.

“You don’t have to say anything, you know,” Bucky murmured, pressing a kiss to the side of her head. “We don’t have to do anything either.”

She let out a breathy laugh, “We both know I suck at keeping my mouth shut.”

That earned a low chuckle, his hand slipping under the hem of her sweater, rubbing slow circles on her hip. Comforting. Grounding.

“I was looking at the list,” she admitted, her voice quieter now. “One of the things I wrote down. I don’t even know if I actually meant it, but… I ..I wrote it anyway..”

Bucky hummed. “And now?”

She hesitated.

He turned his head slightly, nuzzling into her hair. “What is it, doll?”

There it was, that nickname that made her heart do somersaults. She breathed out, twisting in his arms enough to meet his eyes. “Blood play.”

Something flickered across Bucky’s face - not shock, not discomfort. If anything, there was interest.

“Period blood,” she clarified, just in case. “I wrote it down because - I don’t know, I guess I was just curious? But then I started thinking about actually bringing it up and, I don’t know, I figured you’d think it was gross.”

Bucky’s brows furrowed, “Why the hell would I think that?”

She blinked at him. “Uh, because it’s blood. And it’s—”

“Natural?” he cut in, tilting his head. “Part of you?”

Y/N opened her mouth, then closed it again. “Well… yeah.”

He huffed a small sigh that caught under her loose hair. “Doll, I spent years with blood on my hands. I know what it looks like when it’s spilled in anger. In violence.” His voice softened. “That’s not what this is.”

She swallowed, watching his face, the way his jaw tensed slightly. This wasn’t just him humoring her. He meant it.

“I think,” he continued, tracing slow circles over her skin, “it’s the only pure blood in the world. The only kind that isn’t shed to kill.”

A shiver ran down her spine. She wasn’t sure what response she’d been expecting, but it wasn’t this - not his steady, unwavering certainty. Not the way he was looking at her now, like she was something divine.

Bucky leaned in, brushing his lips against her cheek before murmuring, “We don’t have to do it all, doll. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want.”

Y/N wet her lips. “But you… would do it? You’d want to?”

He nodded with no hesitation.

Her breath hitched. She hadn’t expected that. Hadn’t expected him to be so completely, utterly on board. She knew Bucky well enough to know he wouldn’t say it just for her sake, wouldn’t lie about something like this. He wanted to.

The realization sent a new kind of warmth pooling in her stomach.

“Okay,” she whispered, her fingers curling against his chest. “I think I wanna’ try.”

Bucky smiled against her skin, pressing another kiss to her temple, his voice low and warm. “Then let’s try.”

The air was thick with anticipation as they moved to the bedroom. Y/N’s heart thumped in her chest, her breathing shallow. She’d never felt this way before, excited but overly self-conscious. They’d talked it through, set boundaries, ensured it was something they both wanted to explore. Yet, the reality was setting in.

Bucky was meticulous in his preparations, laying out towels on the bed so Y/N didn’t have to worry about cleaning the sheets.

He turned to her, his gaze searching. “Ready?”

She nodded, her cheeks flushed. The notebook lay forgotten on the nightstand, a silent witness to their unfolding intimacy.

Bucky began by unbuttoning her shirt with a gentle touch, his eyes never leaving hers. Each button slipped free, revealing a new inch of skin. It was a dance they’d performed countless times before, but tonight, it felt sacred. As the fabric parted, she felt the weight of her inhibitions fall away with it.

Her bra was next, his thumbs hooking under the straps with a quiet confidence that made her knees wobble. He peeled it away, his eyes tracing the path of the fabric as it fell to the floor. The air in the room felt cooler against her exposed skin, but the heat of Bucky’s gaze was all she needed. He cupped her tender breasts, the softness of the skin a stark contrast to the metal of his hand. His touch was reverent, exploring the landscape of her body.

He stepped closer, his own shirt coming off with a smooth pull. His chest was a canvas of scars, each one telling a story she’d heard a hundred times but never ceased to ache over. He was a sculpture of history, and she was the one granted the privilege to touch him, to kiss every inch of his torment and triumph.

Her jeans and panties were next, Bucky’s hands skimming down her thighs, the warmth of his skin leaving goosebumps in their wake. He didn’t seem to bat an eye that her underwear was the old, practical kind she reserved for this time of the month. He knelt before her, his gaze never straying from hers as he slid the fabric down her legs.

Gently, he laid her down on the towel-covered bed, her body laid bare to him. Her heart was racing now, but she trusted him, and the excitement was overwhelming the fear. Bucky took a moment to appreciate her, his eyes a soft blue that seemed to glow in the dim light. He leaned over and kissed her, his tongue caressing hers.

He broke away, his gaze dropping to her thighs. His hand was steady as he reached between her legs, feeling the warmth she radiated. He knew she was nervous, but his touch was firm and sure as he slid his fingers through her folds, finding the string of her tampon. Her breath caught with anxiety at the sight, she had to dart her gaze away to stop the flush traveling up her chest.

Y/N's eyes fluttered shut, her breaths quickening as Bucky slowly pulled it out, the intimate act feeling so much more significant than anything beforeore. She felt the blood trickle out, warm and fast.

“You’re so beautiful, doll,” Bucky whispered, his voice gruff with desire. He took her hand in his and brought it down to her sex, guiding her to touch herself. “Feel how alive you are.”

Her eyes snapped open at his seemingly odd words, and she felt a strange empowerment flood through her. She had always felt a bit of embarrassment about her period, something society had ingrained in her from a young age. But here was Bucky, the man who had fought for his country, the man who had seen so much horror, telling her that this most natural part of her existence was beautiful.

Her hand trembled slightly as it followed his guidance, touching the stickiness of her own blood for the first time with anything other than the intention of cleaning up. It was strange, but she didn’t hate it. Bucky’s thumb brushed over her knuckles, encouraging her.

“It’s part of you, doll,” he murmured, his eyes dark with something she couldn’t quite pinpoint. “And I love all of you. Every part of you.”

The words hung in the air, thick with meaning. Y/N’s hand hovered for a moment, unsure, before she swallowed her nerves and followed his lead, her fingertips brushing over her own skin, feeling the slickness of her arousal mingled with the warmth of her blood. It was alien and yet, somehow, intimately familiar.

Bucky’s gaze remained locked on hers, the intensity of his stare sending shivers down her spine. He leaned closer, his breath hot against her thigh.

“Can I taste you?” he asked, the question a mere whisper, so soft she almost didn’t hear it.

Y/N’s eyes widened. The thought had never occurred to her, but now it was all she could think about - his mouth on her, his tongue tasting her in a way that was both terrifying and exhilarating. She felt a rush of wetness between her legs, a silent answer to his question.

Her nod was all the permission he needed. Bucky’s eyes lit up with excitement, a feral hunger she hadn’t seen in a while. He leaned in, his mouth brushing against the inside of her thigh, his breath warm and tantalizing. His tongue traced a line up to her core, and she felt him swirl around her clit, tasting her in a way that was both gentle and demanding.

The sensation was unlike anything she had ever experienced.

Bucky’s tongue was a soft, insistent pressure against her clit, lapping up the metallic slick that coated her folds. She could feel the way his touch grew more confident, more eager with every taste. The way his eyes darkened with each whimper she couldn’t hold back.

Y/N’s breath hitched as his teeth grazed her sensitive skin, the hint of pain mixing with pleasure sending a jolt through her body. Her hand found his hair, her grip tightening as she tried to hold onto reality. Bucky’s eyes never left hers, a silent promise that he’d stop if she asked, that she was still in control.

But she didn’t want him to stop.

The warmth of his tongue against her clit, the sight of her blood mingling with her arousal, it was a messy visual that had her hips bucking up into his face. She watched as his eyes fluttered closed, his breathing becoming more ragged as he enjoyed her. He was so focused on her, so lost in the moment, that she couldn’t help but feel a sense of power she’d never felt before.

Bucky’s hand found her thigh, his fingers digging in slightly as his mouth worked her body, his tongue delving into her, exploring the depths of her. She could feel him savor every drop, every part of her that she’d once felt so self-conscious about. He was a warrior, and he was worshiping her like she was his queen.

The sensation grew, a crescendo of pleasure building low in her stomach, coiling tighter and tighter with every flick of his tongue. She was so close, so incredibly close.

Y/N’s hand tightened in his hair, her hips moving against his mouth with a desperation she hadn’t known she had. Her eyes squeezed shut, and she let out a keening cry as the orgasm washed over her, waves of pleasure crashing through her body.

It was a release she’d never felt before, something primal and raw. Her muscles clenched around his fingers, her blood painting a crimson streak across his mouth. Bucky didn’t stop, though, continuing to lick and kiss her, his mouth never leaving her as she rode out the storm of sensation.

When she finally stilled, her body boneless and pliant, Bucky pulled away.

He sat back on his heels, his eyes a darkened blue, a smear of red on his lower lip. He looked up at her with a hunger that was palpable, and she felt the heat of his gaze all the way to her toes.

“Bucky,” she whispered, his name a prayer on her lips.

He didn’t speak, just leaned over to kiss her, sharing the taste of her with her. Y/N’s eyes widened at the sensation, and she kissed him back, the taste of copper and salt mingling with their breaths. It was a claiming, a sharing of something so deeply personal and profound that it was almost spiritual.

As they broke apart, Bucky’s eyes searched hers, looking for any sign of regret or discomfort. But all he found was the shimmer of desire and the glow of satisfaction. He gave her a soft smile, wiping the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand before reaching for a towel to gently clean her up. The action was surprisingly tender, erasing any last vestige of embarrassment she might have felt.

When she was clean, Bucky took her hand in his, bringing it up to his mouth. He kissed each of her fingertips, then, with a look that was both mischievous and reverent, he slid her index and middle fingers into his mouth, suckling gently. She watched as he coated her digits with his saliva before withdrawing them.

With a knowing look, he took her slightly bloodstained hand and guided it to his erect cock. The feel of him in her grasp was foreign and thrilling, the heat of his skin stark against the stickiness of her blood. She didn’t know if it was the taboo nature of it all or the intense intimacy of the moment, but the sight of her hand, marked by her own blood, stroking him was the hottest thing she’d ever seen.

Bucky’s breath hitched as she wrapped her hand around him, her fingers slipping and sliding over the slickness of their combined fluids. The sensation was unlike anything either of them had ever experienced, a blend of the familiar and the forbidden that had their desire soaring to new heights. He watched her face as she explored him with her bloodied hand, her eyes wide and dark with want. He knew she was still processing the intensity of their shared experience, but he also knew she liked it - the way she’d shuddered with pleasure, the way she’d moaned against his mouth when he’d tasted her.

Guiding her hand up and down, he began to move his hips in time with her strokes, the sound of their mingled breaths filling the quiet room.

Y/N watched him, fascinated by the way his pupils dilated and his jaw clenched as she touched him. It was like watching someone else, someone who wasn’t the man who had held her through countless nightmares, but a creature of passion, uninhibited and wild.

He was so hard, so ready for her, and she felt a thrill knowing that she’d brought him to this state of need. The sight was intoxicating, a testament to the raw connection they shared.

Bucky’s hand found hers, his grip firm as he guided her movements, showing her exactly how he wanted it.

“Just like that, doll,” he murmured, his voice strained with restraint. “Just like that.”

Her strokes grew bolder, more certain. She could feel him growing harder, his cock pulsing in her hand. His breathing grew harsher, his eyes never leaving hers as he watched her explore this newfound power over him.

He leaned in, his mouth capturing hers in a kiss that was as fiery as it was tender. Their tongues danced together, the taste of her blood still lingering on his lips.

It was as if she’d unlocked something within him, something feral and hungry. And she realized, she liked it.

With a groan, Bucky pulled back, his eyes never leaving hers. He reached into the nightstand, retrieving a condom. He rolled it on with deft movements, his gaze never straying from her hand still wrapped around his length.

Y/N felt a new wave of warmth between her legs, watching him, knowing she was the one to bring him to this point. She wanted him inside her, to feel him claim her in this new, intimate way.

Bucky positioned himself, his cock nudging against her entrance. She was so wet, she could feel the slickness of her arousal slipping over his tip.

“You sure?” he asked, his voice thick with need.

“Yes,” she breathed, her voice shaking with anticipation. “I’m sure, Bucky. I want this.”

He didn’t need any further encouragement. With a gentle push, he slid into her, the sensation of their melded bodies sending sparks of pleasure through them both. Y/N’s eyes rolled back in her head as she felt him fill her completely, the stretch and burn a delicious reminder of the power she had over him.

Bucky’s movements were slow and deliberate, his hips rocking into her with a rhythm that had them both panting. The feel of her, warm and tight around him, was driving him mad with desire. He reached up to cup her face, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw.

Y/N’s hand slipped down to her own chest, her heart hammering a wild rhythm against her ribs. She could feel the sticky residue of their earlier intimacy on her hands, the evidence of their shared exploration.

Her nipples were sensitive, hard peaks begging for attention. She’d always loved playing with them, but now, with Bucky watching her, it was an entirely new experience. She circled one with her thumb, the pad of her finger teasing the sensitive skin around it.

Bucky’s eyes darkened, his pupils dilating as he watched the erotic sight. He could feel his own arousal growing again, the sight of her touching herself a potent aphrodisiac. He leaned down to capture her mouth in a bruising kiss, his teeth grazing her bottom lip.

Y/N’s hand moved to her other breast, her fingers teasing the sensitive flesh, plucking and rolling her nipple. She could feel her breath catch in her throat as Bucky’s teeth followed the line of her neck, his tongue tracing a hot path down to her chest. He took her other nipple into his mouth, sucking hard, the sensation sending a jolt of pleasure straight to her core.

Her hips bucked against his, needy and desperate for more. He groaned against her skin, his teeth grazing her flesh before soothing the sting with a gentle lick. His hand slid down her body, his metal thumb finding her clit, his touch light and quick. The sensation was exquisite, a perfect counterpoint to the roughness of his mouth.

Y/N’s hand slipped lower, her fingers dipping into the warm, sticky mess of their combined arousal, her blood staining it scarlet. She brought her fingers boldly to Bucky’s mouth, watching him intently as he sucked them clean.

The act was so intimate, so raw, that it had her panting. She’d never felt this connected to another person before, like she was letting him into the deepest parts of herself and he was welcoming it with open arms.

He kissed her again, deep and claiming, before pulling away to look into her eyes. “You’re mine,” he growled, his voice thick with possession.

Y/N nodded, her own desire reflected in her gaze. She knew it was true, in every sense of the word. Bucky slammed into her, the sound of their bodies slapping together a symphony of passion. She wrapped her legs around his waist, urging him deeper, her blood smearing his pelvis as he thrusted.

Their movements grew frenetic, a dance of want and need that had them both on the edge of reason. The air was heavy with the scent of sex and the faint metallic tang of her blood, an aroma that only heightened the intensity of their lovemaking. Y/N’s hand found Bucky’s shoulder, her nails digging in as she held on tight, the sensation of his skin stretching under her grip sending another shiver down her spine.

Bucky’s thrusts grew deeper, more demanding. He was lost in the feeling of her, the way she clamped around him. His hand slammed against the headboard, the wood cracking slightly under the pressure.

He could feel his climax approaching, the tightness in his balls, the way his vision swam with the intensity of it all. But he didn’t want it to end, not yet. He reached down, his thumb finding her clit again, rubbing in slow, deliberate circles.

Y/N’s eyes went wide, her back arching off the bed as pleasure flooded through her. She’d never felt so alive, so seen. It was as if every part of her was on fire, and she didn’t want the flames to die out.

“Bucky, please,” she begged, her voice a desperate whine.

He knew that sound, knew that she was close, but he held off, savoring the moment. He loved watching her come undone, loved the way she clung to him, her eyes wide with a mix of passion and vulnerability. It was a power exchange she didn’t even realize they were engaged in, but it was there, pulsing between them like a heartbeat.

He leaned down to whisper in her ear, “You’re going to come for me, doll. And then I’ll come for you.” His words were a command, a promise, and she felt it resonate deep within her.

Her body responded instinctively, her hips rising to meet his, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through her. She felt her climax building, tightening like a coil in her belly. His thumb pressed harder, the sensation of his touch magnified by the stickiness of all involved fluids.

And then she was there, her muscles clenching around him, her nails digging into his shoulders as she screamed out his name. The world narrowed down to the feeling of him inside her, the taste of her blood still on her tongue, the sight of his eyes, a stormy sea of blue.

Bucky watched her face as she came, the way her pupils dilated and her cheeks flushed. The way her body tightened around him was like nothing he’d ever felt before. It was like holding onto a live wire, the electricity of her pleasure shooting through him, setting his own body on fire. He couldn’t hold back anymore.

With one final, powerful thrust, he let go, his release crashing over him like a wave. His body jerked, his hips stuttering as he emptied himself into the condom. Y/N felt the tremors of his climax, the way his muscles clenched around her, his breath hot and ragged against her neck.

They laid there for a moment, panting, their bodies slick with sweat and blood. Bucky’s head rested on her chest, his metal arm a comforting weight beside her. Y/N could feel her heart racing beneath his cheek. She didn’t know what she’d been expecting, but it certainly wasn’t this - the feeling of absolute belonging.

Slowly, Bucky pulled out, his gaze never leaving hers. He leaned over to grab the towel and gently wiped her clean, his eyes full of a tenderness that made her want to weep. The intimacy of the act washed over her, leaving her feeling more exposed than ever before, yet somehow, more whole.

Y/N reached for him, her hand shaking slightly as she traced the line of his jaw with her fingertips. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

He kissed her palm, his eyes searching hers. “For what, doll?”

“For making me feel like this,” she replied, her voice shaking. “For making me feel beautiful, even when I’m at my most… messy.”

Bucky’s chuckle was soft, his eyes warm. “You’re beautiful all the time, doll. But I know what you mean.” He leaned in to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. “You’re gorgeous because you’re you, because you’re brave enough to explore what makes you feel good, even if it’s messy. And because you trust me with it.”

The quiet confession filled the room, the truth of his words resonating within her. He’d seen the darkest parts of her, the fears that kept her up at night, the memories she wished she could scrub from her mind. Yet, here he was, holding her as she bled, telling her she was gorgeous.

Bucky’s voice was gruff. “That was hot,” he murmured thoughtfully, his eyes still glazed with the aftershocks of pleasure. He leaned in to kiss her again, the taste of her blood still on his lips, mingling with the salt of his sweat.

Y/N couldn’t help but giggle, her cheeks flushing. The words were healing to the last of her nerves, a gentle acknowledgment that he’d enjoyed their adventure just as much as she had. The silence between them grew warm and intimate, their hearts beating in sync with the quiet hum of the room.

“It was, wasn’t it?” she murmured, her voice a soft echo in the stillness. She couldn’t believe the intensity of the emotions swirling within her. The act had been a revelation, a declaration of trust and desire that transcended the physical.

Bucky’s gaze searched hers, his thumb brushing away a tear she hadn’t realized had slipped free. “More than you know, doll. Was… fuck, it was something else,” he said, his voice low and rough with feeling.

Y/N’s smile grew, a little shaky with the weight of what they’d just shared. “It was,” she agreed, her voice barely above a whisper. She reached up to brush a lock of hair from his forehead, the simple act feeling like a declaration of something she didn’t quite have the words for.

Bucky’s eyes searched hers, a silent conversation passing between them, a question in the depths of his gaze. “Would you want to do that again?” he asked, his voice tentative.

Her heart stuttered at the thought, the memory of his mouth on her, tasting her, mixing with the sensation of his cock filling her up, all while at her most vulnerable. The idea was still shocking, still a little overwhelming, but she knew that she hadn’t felt more alive than in that moment.

“Yes,” she said, her voice firm, surprising even herself. “I’d like that. If you’re okay with it, too.”

His smile was all the answer she needed, a flash of white teeth and the crinkle of his eyes that told her he was just as into the idea as she was. “Yeah, doll,” he said, pressing a kiss to her palm.

——————————————————————————————————

Had a request to continue this series, so…Here we are. Wanted to make this one a bit more fluffy and passionate. (Definitely not hormonal or anything…)

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it! 🫶

[bestworstcase]

Genuine question, but where did you pick up "the Brother cult is a common religion in modern day Remnant" from? At least, I'm pretty sure you've said this before on here; my memory is pretty bad lol.

I'm just curious since I've been rewatching RWBY lately, and i remembered that, and I thought it was interesting bc I never once saw or picked up on anything that would suggest that in canon (unless it's like, a headcanon on your part, in which case feel free to ignore me, I'm not here to needlessly criticize a fun headcanon if that's the case loll, i have my own fantasy religion headcanons bc I'm unhinged abt worldbuilding).

If you don't mind, I want to explain my reasoning/thoughts on why I don't think the Brothers are worshipped on modern Remnant (feel free to pick them apart):

-> Qrow says that "not many people are super religious these days". Mind you, I don't take much stock at all in what characters say, especially not in RWBY (i frequently side-eye characters who speak on the Oz merge who aren't Ozpin himself, Light, or Jinn), but i feel like this would be an odd thing to say if it wasn't true. This is supported by The Shallow Sea fading into just a 'fanciful creation myth', as well as none of the main or even side characters being religious (though it could be bc it's just not important) nor discussing religion. Churches don't seem to be common (aside from the one in v4), and imagery of what seem to be altars are scattered and infrequent. Religion is also never brought up when discussing the kingdoms' governments either. So, so far, Qrows line holds true.

-> When Qrow talks about the Brothers, RNJR never really shows that they recognize the story, or at least that they don't put weight on it, unlike finding out the Maidens are real. They're just like "...okay so why is that important", unlike how I imagine religious people would react to finding out their God(s) are real. Plus, Qrow has to explain it to them; if it was a well known religious story, I'm sure the writers would have written it more like "So, you know [insert religion name]? Yeah, according to Ozpin, that story is real. In case you aren't familiar, let me explain it for you... [insert convenient lore dump for the audience]". Plus, the way Qrow phrases it gives me the impression that it's an obscure story. Weaker point, though, I'll admit.

-> In any of the times that we see what *might* be evidence of religion (i.e. the candles/altar in the White Fang in v4, the church in Ruby's v4 short), there's no religious iconography depicting the Brothers (at least, nothing that I've caught). In general, there doesn't seem to be any dragon imagery in modern Remnant (again, nothing that I've caught yet).

-> It's depicted as a fairytale. When Ozpin asks for Pyrrha's favorite fairytales, the first thing she says is The Tale of the Two Brothers. It's also in his fairytale book, something i feel would've been a controversial (if extremely funny) decision if it was a popular religious story (like if you put Jesus' crucifixion in a book including rapunzel and Cinderella).

-> Also, there's no common sayings including the Brothers (like how fics like to have the characters say "Oh Brothers" and other variations).

-> And, in general, Oz's inner circle really wasn't at all concerned with the Gods or really even the Divine Mandate. All they knew was that the Gods created Remnant, humanity, the Grimm, and the Relics and promptly abandoned Remnant, and that "If someone were to collect all four [Relics], they'd be able to change the world." And that that's "exactly what the enemy wants." So they only know the absolute basics of the Mandate, and the way it's worded implies (to me, anyways) that Oz worded it in such a way that cautioned against collecting the Relics (which is very interesting to me. This also tracks with how he depicts the Mandate in TTOTTB). So in general not even the inner circle feels like Brother/Light followers to me, just Oz followers (in general i imagine the events of the infinite man made him learn that bringing up judgement day is a Bad Thing, considering before bringing it up the Circle flourished, but after spreading the message, it was immediately destroyed. Instant karma. Poor dude). Though this starts leaning into the territory of my theory that Oz actually gave up on his mission (which like, could be wrong, but I'm holding onto it until I'm proven wrong), and I'm sure you don't wanna hear that one lol.

In general it seems to me like there isn't a Brothers-centric religion so far, even though Remnant still has organized religion (albeit uncommon). But I'm honestly not sure if I missed anything? I'm sure as hell not the type to comb through every background to see if I did lol.

Sorry for the long ass ask. Take your time answering, and have fun picking apart my reasoning. Please be nice abt it tho 👉👈 I just want to know your thoughts and if i missed anything that proves it's a modern day religion :)

-🌙

okay. first, at the risk of being condescending: religious people believe that their gods are real. you know that, right? religion is not a big game of play pretend. people who practice religion do so because they believe in it.

yes, religious people can and do experience doubt. but a religious person whose doubting and questioning leads them to conclude their god(s) aren't real don't continue to practice the religion they don't believe in. i mean, they might make an outward performance of doing so if it's unsafe for them to leave and they're likely to keep cultural practices and even moral frameworks--see: ex-christians who are exactly as dogmatic and puritanical about whatever new belief system they've adopted--but people who don't believe in gods don't practice religion. 

this:

They're just like "...okay so why is that important", unlike how I imagine religious people would react to finding out their God(s) are real.

is a fallacy you're making because (i presume) you aren't religious and have never been so; i suspect you just don't have any frame of reference and consequently you're projecting your own skepticism onto the hypothetical religious people in your imagination. to be clear, i don't mean this as a personal attack on you--this is a very normal thing for people to do when we're trying to conceptualize experiences that are profoundly different from our own.

my background though is evangelical christian. i was raised in a staunchly religious household attending church 2-3 times a week; i attended a christian school until transferring to public school in fifth grade; i've been to bible camps and conferences where they teach you how to evangelize to nonbelievers and that kind of thing. i'm not talking fundie cult here, to be clear--this was a relatively-by-evangelical-standards socially liberal and theologically mainstream nondenominational protestant church--but christianity was the central organizing structure of my life until i left home. i'm agnostic and fundamentally disagree with the moral framework of christianity but i know a lot of very devout christians and i'm very familiar with the religious praxis. 

(including what genuine, good faith evangelical proselytization looks like--not door-to-door like what e.g. mormons do, or street corner chick tract fundie cult behavior, which is what non-christians typically think of as evangelism. but that stuff is a tactic high-control religious groups use to strengthen identification with the in-group through rejection and alienation by the out-group--evangelical churches that aren't culty don't do that, and in fact the idea that door-to-door and street corner preaching is an isolation tactic used by predatory religious groups is something that was first explained to me in sunday school by the people who taught me how to evangelize. put a pin in this for now.)

so: i'm not imagining hypothetical religious people when i say this, i'm imagining a few hundred specific religious people whom i personally know and how they would react in an equivalent situation. 

what qrow does in 'a much needed talk' is he sit the kids down, goes "not many people are super religious these days… there's a lot of (false) gods people have made up throughout history, but y'know, these two are real. here's the truth…" and then tells them a simplified version of the two brothers creation myth. 

he doesn't do anything to prove that these two gods, in particular, are real. he gives zero evidence. he doesn't even demonstrate that magic is real. this isn't "finding out" that the gods are real, this is uncle qrow doing a little impromptu sunday school lesson like that's an explanation for why some lunatic attacked us earlier. this is like if some rando tried to grab you on the street and pull you into an unmarked van and i saved you and me and the van guy clearly had some sort of history because he knew my full name so you asked me "WHO WAS THAT GUY. WHAT THE FUCK" and i said okay sit down, the first thing you need to know is that in the beginning, god created the heavens and the earth…

regardless of your personal religious beliefs or lack thereof, you would probably go "…what. does this have to do. with the van guy who ATTACKED ME" because that's like, truly a bizarre non-sequitur. but it's not like God Himself is descending from the heavens in a flaming whirlwind to demonstrate his existence. it's just me telling you he's real. 

if you're a christian, in this scenario, that is not in any way a revelation to you. that's akin to, like, "the king of england is real." BIG IF TRUE?--you know this. you already know this. if you are a christian then you believe that the christian god exists and is the one true god. in this hypothetical scenario i'm telling you things you already know and believe foundationally to be true. a devout christian would probably respond more in the vein of "amen! god is good!" but one whose practice is casual--the christmas-and-easter christians--and secular christians would absolutely be "okay and…?" in an equivalent situation to 'a much needed talk.' 

hell, come to that, i'd be asking what this has to do with the crazy guy who tried to kidnap me if i were in that situation. who cares that my dead headmaster was a true believer or whatever i want to know about the guy with the knife! you feel me?

the type of person whom i can imagine making a big deal out of qrow's little creation myth are:

reddit atheist types who cry and scream and shit bricks if they have to talk to somebody who believes in a god; you know. the kind of person categorically incapable of talking about religion in any capacity without at least one sneering "sky daddy"?

someone with no previous exposure to this religious tradition or anything remotely like it. imagine if i were to sit you down and earnestly tell you that the only Real Gods were, like, the hero twins who descended into the underworld to challenge the lords of death to a ballgame. you'd probably be like "HUH??" because hunahpú and xbalanqué are not a cultural reference point you're familiar with in the way that you're familiar with the crucifixion of jesus christ.

like, all religions are fucking weird. the christian gospels are not remotely less weird than the popol vuh, or whatever. you're just familiar with the essentials of the gospel story--even if you're not and have never been christian--because christianity is culturally dominant in the west. and the familiarity makes it normal. unremarkable.

invisible, in a way. 

this is something the writers of rwby really get. if something is normal and ordinary in the world of remnant, the characters don't pay attention to it, even if it's bizarre to the audience. to use a non-religious example, civilians don't know what aura is! it's not common knowledge! we know that because jaune's never heard of it, civilians in vale are shocked and confused when penny stops a truck with her bare hands, and oscar (who has dealt with "occasional grimm" before) has no aura training and doesn't know what a semblance is. but to the rest of the characters, aura is a completely mundane aspect of their day to day lives and they're a little taken aback by characters like jaune and oscar who don't know about it. 

with that in mind, i want to really underscore something about the things qrow tells RNJR in 'a much needed talk' and the way the kids react. 

because. first, qrow gives them the same intro level rundown on the maidens that pyrrha got in v3--offscreen because that's shit the audience has already heard and don't need to be rehashed. the kids are like, "that's a lot to take in," and jaune in particular is like "this is all very sketchy, what the fuck is actually going on." 

THEN, apropos nothing, qrow drops "not many people are super religious but These Two gods are actually real btw" and an abbreviated creation story, with NO proof and NO apparent connection to the maniacal cultist who ranted and raved about his body and soul belonging to his goddess-queen who sent him to "retrieve" ruby for her. and none of the kids express the slightest bit of skepticism about this super out of left field sunday school story, no one is like "what the fuck" or "are you drunk"--ren just goes "okay but how. is that relevant." 

whereupon qrow finally tells them about the relics hidden under the schools and salem wanting them and that BAD THINGS will happen if she gets them. and then, jaune the skeptic goes: "alright, so let's say we believe all this--there really is this crazy evil being behind these attacks, not just some thugs trying to become powerful. why doesn't the world know?"

THAT'S the part he finds outrageous and difficult to believe. not that the two brothers are real, but that SALEM exists. salem. these kids literally JUST got attacked by a lunatic cultist who kept babbling about MY GODDESS HER GRACE THE QUEEN and directly stated that he is cinder's associate and referred to the white fang and torchwick as pawns, but the thing that makes them go "wait but this is crazy and makes no sense" is qrow explaining that there's a malevolent entity called salem who orchestrated the attack on beacon and sent that guy to capture ruby. like, objectively, from a purely logical standpoint, that's the least unbelievable thing that qrow tells them. 

but people aren't rational agents. and one thing this scene does very effectively is establish the relative normality of each major chunk of information through the way the kids react:

maidens? "there are four special people who can do magic without dust? and when they die that power passes on to someone new? that's. well that's a lot to process but. sure."

brothers? "and this is relevant how?"

salem? "that's crazy how could someone like that possibly exist without everybody knowing about it? why should we believe any of this!?"

salem is so fucking far out of their previous understanding of how the world works that they all kind of have a kneejerk "that! can't be real!" response even though tyrian shouted from the literal rooftops that he's working for a 'goddess' who was behind the attack on beacon.

but the maidens? they have a frame of reference for magic--magic is what anyone can do with dust, and ruby…petrified a massive grimm with her eyes somehow a few months ago, so like, it's not THAT unbelievable to accept that an old story about four maidens who can do magic without dust is true, apparently. 

whereas the stuff about brothers… nothing. not one of these kids so much as blinks even though. again, from a purely logical standpoint, the creation of remnant by the brothers is the most fantastical part of qrow's explanation. but the kids don't react that way, because it's normal to them. ergo they're either casual practitioners of brother-worship or brother-worship has cultural hegemony in vale and mistral, where RNJR grew up.

now! it's actually a simple matter of text whether the second possibility is true or not and this is the part of the answer where i have to just say: you're factually incorrect actually. 

-> In any of the times that we see what *might* be evidence of religion (i.e. the candles/altar in the White Fang in v4, the church in Ruby's v4 short), there's no religious iconography depicting the Brothers (at least, nothing that I've caught). In general, there doesn't seem to be any dragon imagery in modern Remnant (again, nothing that I've caught yet).

there is a big statue of the dragon brothers smack in the middle of the train station in mistral. one gold, one dark. very unmistakably a depiction of Those Two. this is in v6 so if you're only up to v4 on your rewatch you can't uh, be expected to remember. (<- i am just unhinged enough about fictional religion i can tell you off the top of my head that yang and ruby swear by God in v1 but the ship captain in v4 swears "by the gods" and i think that church in ruby's character short implies maiden-worship on the basis of the statue of the cloaked young woman in front, details of this kind just stick in my memory for nerd reasons.)

[as an aside why would… the white fang… have an altar to mankind's gods… like. there are no faunus in 'the two brothers' and the culturally dominant religion among faunus is worship of the god of animals, as ozpin notes in his commentaries on 'shallow sea' & 'judgment.' the trappings of religion that we see in the white fang's private spaces are… obviously… god of animals-worship. this feels half a step shy of saying "well the altar in salem's war room doesn't have any draconic iconography, so therefore brother-worship isn't a thing." brother-worship is explicitly not the only religion in existence!]

-> Also, there's no common sayings including the Brothers (like how fics like to have the characters say "Oh Brothers" and other variations).

in v7, 'pomp and circumstance' specifically, ironwood says "brothers know you deserve it" in reference to RWBYJNR receiving their huntsman licenses. and a quick round up from the novels:

after the fall: "thank the brothers you found us," said by a bit character.

before the dawn: "thank the brothers," said by octavia; "by the brothers," said by finn asturias when he learns what his kids are planning

roman holiday: "thank the brothers," said once by neo's mother and once by a bit character. 

there are also general exclamations of "my gods" or "by the gods" and general references to "the gods" both in rwby proper and ancillary materials, with "gods" being in far more frequent use than the singular "God"--gods, plural, doesn't necessarily mean the brothers every time, because qrow does make a point of noting that remnant's people, collectively, worship "dozens" of gods. but it is pretty evident that the dominant religion across the four human kingdoms has more than one god, and the coincidence of that with, taking the novels into consideration, characters from literally every kingdom except mistral which has a honking big statue of the brothers in its train station swear by the brothers… yeah the dominant religion globally is brother-worship. probably not in menagerie. but in the four human kingdoms, yeah. 

-> It's depicted as a fairytale. When Ozpin asks for Pyrrha's favorite fairytales, the first thing she says is The Tale of the Two Brothers. It's also in his fairytale book, something i feel would've been a controversial (if extremely funny) decision if it was a popular religious story (like if you put Jesus' crucifixion in a book including rapunzel and Cinderella).

…and the second is 'the shallow sea,' which is also a religious myth. 'the story of the seasons' is alsowhat we'd call a myth, not a fairytale. 'the girl in the tower' is the only story pyrrha names in that scene that is actually a fairytale per se. in general the delineation we make between "fairytale" and "myth" in the real world, as discrete genres of folklore, doesn't seem to exist in remnant--legends and fairytales scattered in time, and all that. the conceit of rwby is about engaging with fairytale-as-myth, so this is a very intentional blurring; like, this is a narrative where maiden-in-tower IS the creation story, fundamentally. rapunzel is orpheus is prometheus and that's how the world was made.

and that's the kind of thing that we as the audience have to just accept as a fact of the fictional reality, because… like… gestures at 'the shallow sea.' 

ozpin included THAT one in his book of fairytales, too, and in his commentary he explicitly describes it as part of a closed(!) oral tradition whose inclusion he deliberated for fear of being disrespectful. he devotes more than half of his commentary to justifying the choice to include it, and the rest to describing the myth's cultural context to his (presumed human) readers. he asks forgiveness for "overstepping himself." 

and it is very obvious, in the way ozpin talks about 'the shallow sea' in particular and the book generally in his forward and afterward, that his concern is not "it is grotesquely horribly disrespectful to place this profoundly meaningful and important creation myth (of a culture that is not my own) in a collection of frivolous fairytales" but rather "this book is meant to be a collection of profoundly meaningful tales drawn from all of remnant's cultures and i believe this one is too important not to include, but i am also acutely aware that it is a closed tradition to which i do not belong." the latter is still out of pocket, but the simple fact is that a character who so obviously knows that publishing a story from a closed tradition without permission is Not Okay and so obviously feels immensely conflicted and guilty about doing so isn't a character who would blithely denigrate a myth like this by publishing it in a book of trivial fairytales. and a character who would denigrate the myth that way wouldn't agonize over whether it was important enough to be worth violating the closed tradition. 

and then you consider that, out of the twelve stories ozpin put in this book, three are explicitly religious creation myths ('the shallow sea,' 'the judgment of faunus,' and 'the two brothers'), two others are myths describing the origin of natural phenomena ('the story of the seasons' and 'the gift of the moon'), and one is a mythical culture hero ('the infinite man')… so fully half the stories in this book aren't actually fairytales. they're myths. 

so the inclusion of 'the two brothers' is less cinderella-and-christ than it is "here is an eclectic collection of folklore from around the world" in terms of what would be equivalent in the real world; and… like, 'the shallow sea,' 'judgment of faunus,' and 'the two brothers,' the plain text of these stories is clearly and unambiguously religious in nature, and ozpin explicitly discusses them as such. 

his commentary on 'the two brothers,' in particular: "there are many versions of our creation story […] but certain elements are always consistent: they arrived from a realm outside of our own and together created the universe from nothing. and then they left us on our own." and "whether or not you believe in the brothers, or in this story in particular […] like the twin gods, we are intricately connected to each other" and, um:

Even if the gods aren’t real, even if they don’t return to judge us for our deeds, we should act each day as though they are arriving tomorrow. In the end, we will be the arbiters of our fates. We will either create a beautiful, peaceful world and live in harmony together or destroy ourselves and our planet, and the gods will judge what we have chosen.

remember how i said i'm intimately familiar with, specifically, evangelical christianity and what actual evangelism entails? not the deliberately off-putting door-to-door shit but proselytization for the purpose of bringing new people into a church that isn't a predatory high-control group?

the way ozpin talks about the brothers here, and the way qrow talks about them in 'a much needed talk,' is christian evangelism 101.

"not many people are super religious, these days." you know who says this type of thing? like, fucking constantly? evangelical christians. never mind that christianity is the majority religion in the US by a significant margin (66%!)--evangelical christians inhabit a constructed alternate reality wherein they're an embattled minority shining candlelight into a sea of darkness. (many of them accomplish this by deciding that most other christians aren't real christians; the classic protestant move of course being "catholics aren't christian" but your average evangelical takes a dim view of like. any denomination that isn't their denomination and when i tell you the nondenominationals are the worst offenders in this regard... lmao. anyways)

"not many people are super religious [christian] nowadays. people believe in all kinds of different gods and creeds, but there is only one true God"--this is literally just how evangelicals talk. both to each other and to non-believers they're hoping to interest in the church, although the tone depends on who's listening. internal discussions of this nature are strategic in nature--how do we reach people and speak to them effectively in these godless times? what is the right balance between presenting ourselves and our faith honestly while still creating a welcoming and accessible space for people who don't know jesus? how do we share what we believe with people who just don't care? and so forth--whereas the framing with nonbelievers is that it's innate in human nature to crave purpose and meaning and that everyone seeks fulfillment but few ever manage to find it because none of us are born knowing where to look, etc. 

meanwhile in his commentary ozpin is doing a fantasy repackaging of the pascal's wager tactic, which like. i have sat through literal educational films on the rhetorical use of pascal's wager in effective evangelism. "well, if i believe in god and i'm wrong, i'll have lived a good, moral life and lost nothing; if you don't believe in god and you're wrong, hell" is one of THEEEE evangelist talking points. ideally, one used to open a conversation with friends and/or people who have indicated interest in talking about your faith in some way, especially if they ask "what if you're wrong?" because then the idea is to demonstrate that you're not rigidly dogmatic in your faith but instead you've given serious thought to the possibility that you might be wrong, and thus show that you understand and empathize with the nonbeliever's skepticism so as to build a genuine rapport. (whether it *works* that way in practice is highly dependent on like. charisma and actual meaningful ability to click with non-christians, which a lot of devout evangelicals… just can't even when they really earnestly do try, but ozpin as a character does have the charisma and the knack for connecting with people that can make this approach effective at getting irreligious people to give "hey, come to this church thing with me?" a shot.)

i cannot emphasize enough that after the obvious one of "directly openly stated religious beliefs," the reason ozpin and qrow specifically read to me as highly religious characters is because they talk exactly like evangelicals in secular company. they talk about and share their beliefs about the brothers the way i was taught in church to talk about christianity. 

you don't go banging on people's doors or harassing them in the streets. nobody fucking likes that and it makes people not want to go to church. you don't go around with a stick up your butt about the non-christian people in your life not being christian. what you do is treat people with kindness and respect and draw firm boundaries for yourself to keep yourself safe (<- unironically growing up in an evangelical christian household is a huge part of the reason i am SO comfortable just fucking saying no to things i don't want to do and i think this is the one thing that evangelicals really have on a LOCK) while being open and honest and unapologetic about your own faith. you save the bitchy judgmental gossip and fire and brimstone garbage and like, talking about the eschaton for when it's just true believers. 

evangelical christianity is an eschatological religion, by the way. in case you didn't know that. evangelicals believe that we are living in or on the cusp of the end times and the political action of evangelical christians in the united states is motivated in large part by a desire to enact the prophesied conditions that will herald the second coming of christ. for example a lot of evangelicals like trump because they think he's a divine implement of the great tribulation. evangelicals are obsessed with and actively trying to enact the apocalypse. and rwby is straight up the only fictional story i've ever encountered that understands how an eschatological cult operates because you can NOT advertise that shit. it FREAKS PEOPLE OUT. you keep the "i want the world to be riven by unprecedented catastrophe and suffering so i can be taken up to heaven in the rapture while the wrath of almighty god crushes what remains as grapes in a winepress" between yourself and the other doomsday cultists. 

it's not like. SECRET. it's in the bible. but very few non-christians bother to actually read the bible and the ones who do are just not going to have the cultural context to know how very deadly serious evangelicals in particular are about the book of revelation or how much of a core pillar the eschatology is to evangelicalism; meanwhile american evangelicals are knowingly deliberately voting for the apocalypse. similarly,

“We must take back our gifts,” the God of Darkness said. “Reclaim our power and wipe this experiment from existence.”

“I disagree,” the God of Light said. “And we promised to share in the fate of our joint creation.” He gave a mighty yawn. “Let us rest, and when the time comes, we will see what Humanity has become in our absence. At that point, we will judge them. If they are worthy, we will take their forms and walk among them as equals. If not, we will take back our gifts and start over elsewhere. What do you say?”

“Who will decide whether they are worthy?” the God of Darkness said.

“Humanity will make it plain. If they come together in unity and find a way to destroy the evil in the world and within themselves, then they are worthy. If not … we will let them burn,” the God of Light said.

“So shall it be.” The two brothers agreed. But even in rest, they needed some distance from each other. Each dragon transformed himself into a new continent at one end of their world.

And there the dragons still sleep, until the day that the gods will waken, rise, and judge.

ozma's mandate is not a secret. the apocalyptic final judgment is clearly and emphatically spelled out in the myth of the two brothers, which he included in an anthology of tales intended for the general public and annotated to the effect of "i believe this one is true and even if you don't you should act like you do. btw. because it's true" YEAH MAN WE GET IT. 

(he also asserts apropos nothing in his commentary on 'the gift of the moon'--a myth that does not mention the brothers at all--that the sun is a "celestial gift from the all-powerful god of light," so either 'the gift of the moon' is brother-cult doctrine or ozpin is pointing at a myth from another tradition and making it about his god.)

the main difference between ozpin and your average evangelical is that ozpin fears the end times because he doesn't believe anyone will be spared. but his behavior is the same. his way of presenting his religiosity in a way that minimizes and obfuscates the eschatological intention at the core is the same, if not more intense because the material reality of his situation, as the accursed chosen one literally commanded by God Himself to immanentize the eschaton, is a lot more terrifying and desperate. 'the infinite man' is quite literally a veiled autobiographical story about how he figured out that he CAN'T… go around just… TELLING EVERYBODY… that he's MAKING READY FOR THE FINAL JUDGMENT.... because people don't fucking like that and will kill him and put his cult to the sword about it.

that emphatically does not mean that he doesn't still believe in it; it means that he has, in the same way that evangelical christians in real life have, figured out how to code-switch. there's the public face for mixed company where you're friendly and humble and make a concerted effort to live by the virtues of your faith while being open and unapologetic about your religious identity while maintaining a posture of respectful invitation toward everyone else and engaging in meaningful ways with people you personally know to gently encourage them to explore your faith…

…and there's the private face for when it's just you and your fellow true believers and you're talking in intricate detail about how current world events line up with this or that prophesy about the end times. ozpin in public is the mixed-company evangelical to a T. and ozpin in private with people who have been informed of the whole situation re: maidens, relics, salem is like "i am the divinely-ordained champion of the gods and we must stop her from getting her hands on the relics that My Schools were built as fortresses to defend."

in 'the lost fable' these kids literally hear the god of light say with his whole chest that mankind will be found irredeemable and destroyed if they are "unchanged," and they do not even blink. 3.75 volumes spanning months later, they STILL haven't really registered that the god of light holds the view that not a single person alive on the planet RIGHT NOW TODAY deserves to live. why?

because they knew that part already. not the precise detail of ozma being the one who's meant to decide when the world is fit for divine judgment and actively invite the brothers back, but the final judgment and the need for humans to be United when the day of judgment comes lest they be burned to ashes? They Knew That. it is invisible to them except inasmuch as salem embodies, to them, the danger that mankind will be condemned, because it's normal. regardless of their personal religious beliefs or degree of religiosity, they're all familiar with this story to the point that hearing God Himself promise to exterminate everybody didn't even mildly startle them. they knew. 

like. fundamentally. the story as-written and the way the characters present in the lost fable do not react whatsoever to the divine ultimatum does not make sense unless every single one of them already knew the story about the dragon-brothers who created the world and then departed and will return to judge humanity's worth, to either reward them with completion or wipe them from existence. and because the kids seem to fall in the zone of irreligious to casually religious the simplest and most likely explanation is that there is a global hegemony of brother-worship, akin to christianity in the west. 

taps the sign. and this sign too.

like. in one sense it's a question of your frame of reference and specifically whether you know what deeply religious people are like and how an eschatological religion actually functions in the real world or if your mental model for what this looks like is drawn from, like, pop culture fundamentalist caricatures. i can tell you that the way qrow segues into and tells the brothers creation myth is something i can imagine almost verbatim coming out of the mouths of elders in my parents' church and that ozpin's commentary on the same myth is a point-for-point translation of christian evangelism into his fictional religion. i can tell you that your presupposition that a religious person "finding out" the god(s) they believe in really do exist would feel any kind of surprise or revelation about it is baldly incorrect in a way that leads me to believe you have zero real personal experience with religion or religious people. i can tell you that your presupposition that the secular democratic institutions of government in the kingdoms means there can't be a religious cultural hegemony of brother-worship (or any other religion) is, again, just factually not correct.

but in another and, in many ways, more important sense: rwby is a story about a religious conflict. there are two gods who destroyed the last world and a promised day of judgment that will be ushered in by four divine relics, each guarded by fortresses that act as the central hub for each plot arc, and the overarching narrative conflict is about a power struggle between two people--the immortal agent of rebellion against the gods and the divinely-appointed chosen one tasked with preparing for the final judgment--fighting for control of these relics. that's the plot. 

why are you reading scenes where the characters intricately involved in this power struggle talk about religious matters like the existence of gods and divine relics and divinely-ordained tasks as evidence that these characters… aren't religious? why are you reading actual myths that are textually presented as religious stories as… not a religion? why are you looking at a character commanded by God Himself to unite mankind, who in the present day speaks incessantly of the importance of unity and existential threat of division, who annotates the aforementioned explicitly religious myth with an exhortation to act each day as if the gods will return to judge you tomorrow, and concluding that he… is not religious and does not fundamentally believe in any of it?

what do you think a religion is?

and in this story, of all stories--when the central narrative conflict is overtly a war over divine relics left behind by the gods for the sole purpose of bringing about the final day of divine judgment--why in the world is it your baseline assumption that religion is not something that matters very much within the world of the story? why do you take qrow saying "not many people are super religious these days" completely at face value to mean "most people are agnostic/atheist and religion has no cultural relevance whatsoever" even though the next thing out of his mouth is "but these two gods are REAL" and even though, a single volume prior, his colleague said "what we're telling you goes against hundreds of years of human history, religion" and insinuate that consequently the truth would cause uproar and panic to justify keeping the maidens a secret?

i think that ozpin and his inner circle are religious because they speak and act like it and the core purpose of their "brotherhood" (as they call it) is to safeguard the divine relics while they publish religious myths about their gods and talk about how those gods are real and nothing is more important than keeping the divine relics safe. if it acts and looks and quacks like a duck and repeatedly turns to the audience to say that it believes in ducks, i believe it's a duck. i am not going to say "well it complained one time that there aren't a lot of ducks left in the world, so i think it's actually a chicken." that's nonsense. 

[xyywrites]

Any tips on keeping a fluff piece interesting? I’m writing a story based on a prompt that’s overall very fluffy, and I’m having trouble keeping it engaging without getting too angsty.

hii @quilledart!

Fluff is like baking a perfect soufflé—it’s delicate, warm, and easy to deflate if you lean too hard on sweetness alone. The key is to add texture, play with tension (not conflict), and let the quiet, unexpected moments of vulnerability breathe life into your story.

For example, consider weaving in minor, playful misunderstandings—a compliment misread as a snide remark, a teasing remark that lingers in the air, or a gentle squabble over something trivial. Let those moments hint at deeper layers without ever plunging into full-on angst.

In fluff, it’s essential to sprinkle in quiet intimate moments and shared rituals. Like: two characters spending a lazy Sunday afternoon reading excerpts from their favorite books, the rustle of pages and the aroma of tea creating an atmosphere that engages every sense.

Also dialogues: add banter, nostalgia, unhinged chaotic-ness. Their exchanges should feel like tiny windows into their souls—witty quips that recall shared memories, unexpected sides that add depth, and off-the-cuff remarks that break the tension.

Furthermore, it's always helpful to look into books, or anime. Whatever is your jam. I remember this anime I was watching a while ago. "Laid back camp": it's a fluffy heartwarming anime about school girls in the camping club. Or books for that matter: Legends and Latte. A cozy fantasy.

Fluff is comfort food for the soul. It’s okay if your story feels “small”—sometimes the most memorable moments are the ones that could fit in the palm of your hand.

[twst-hottest-takes]

My Hot Take: Grim is just as dateable as Malleus. Or the other way around: Malleus is just as dateable as Grim.

They are both beasts, who are physically very different from a human or beastman, but mentally much like them. Malleus just tricks humans/beastmen into finding him attractive, because he changes into a form that looks like a human/beastman. Now, I know that is not his plan when he changes into the beastman form, he does it because it is more practical to have hands and literally fit in with the other people, but it's a side effect, lol. Grim could theoretically do that, too, with a transformation potion, also in the scenario: if he wanted to seduce someone from another species. But he doesn't.

Some people see Grim like a child, because he is so short and acts a bit immature. But we don't know at what age/life stage Grim actually is. It has been stated at some point, that Malleus is still far away from being an adult by the normal development stages of his species, but his beastman form looks like a young adult. He may be a mentally far advanced/quicker matured prodigy, but if his beastman form reflected his age, he would appear much younger (understandable that he doesn't, because it would be awkward at NRC). So if you think that Grim is taboo, because he might still be a child, then you can apply the same to Malleus.

(Sorry, if I got something wrong, I don't know the lore that well yet.)

Okay, but, Anon, why in the ways of this wide and wonderous world would you even suggest that?

I have to push back hard against the concept of dating Grim, so if you don't want to read my rude responses to that thought just skip the rest of this post. (I promise it's not personal, Anon.)

He's an awful, selfish, trouble-making, trash-munching, feral, piece of ♤♡◇♧. Whatever degree of thought it would take to consider it "Okay" to date Grim is ignoring that he'd be a miserable boyfriend, and I judge anyone for suggesting otherwise.

Now, with THAT out of the way: Sure. You're right.

First off, Grim is totally going to have a humanoid form at the end of the game (tropes and all that), so yeah, the fact that he's currently a cat monster won't matter anymore once it happens. If he's a direbeast then he was likely a human who overblotted at some point in any case. I still argue against trying to date him in cat form regardless because that's getting into, "It's okay to ♤♡◇♧ Scooby Doo," territory and NO I am NOT going to pretend that I'll be nice about that garbage.

Secondly, most people argue against the idea of dating Malleus because he's too OLD so someone going in the opposite direction is just crazy to see. Malleus is not a child. Being "young for a fae" or "not fully matured yet" doesn't mean he's the fae equivalent to a minor. Older teens and young adults can still be considered immature so I will fight back on the front that his comparative age (treating him as younger) would make it inappropriate to date him.

Since I've already said that Grim is basically datable as long as he has a human form, my own arguments about Malleus being a dragon would be pointless. The same rule applies.

Conclusion: The blog owner thinks that Grim becomes "datable" the minute he has a humanoid form (ideally one that doesn't look like a child), but doesn't recommend it because the character sucks. Malleus on the other hand is passably datable already, dragon be darned. The fantasy age argument can happen somewhere else.

Thank you for your take.

(This was legitimately a hot one. Nice job.)

[sunwoniie]

REVENGE

Pairing: idol!virgin!soft dom!Jay x idol!virgin!brat!Isabella

Synopsis: Lately, Isabella has been ignoring Jay, which is pretty weird considering she usually loves messing with him until he’s absolutely furious. At first, he’s just confused, but when he finally figures out why she’s avoiding him, he realizes it’s the perfect chance to get back at her. And he’s not about to let it go to waste.

Warnings: virgin jay and isa, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex (pulling out before coming), bathroom sex

Old scenario

English is not my first language

Lately, I’ve been getting familiar with cold showers. They’re known for their health benefits, but that’s not why I take them. Cold showers are also used to calm people down—especially when their urges become overwhelming. Like me. Right now.

I’m ovulating, and it’s driving me insane. The need is so intense that I might actually call an escort just to get some relief.

My ovulation periods have always been wild, but things got worse when I practically started living with a bunch of ridiculously attractive guys. And yet, despite being surrounded by them, my fixation is on Jay. When that started, I have no idea.

Jay and I have always had this bickering dynamic. I don’t hate him—if anything, I love to annoy him. Seeing that irritated expression on his face is pure entertainment. Pranking him is my specialty, and nothing amuses me more than watching him turn red with frustration when he realizes it was me. I laugh so hard my stomach hurts, and the moment he spots me, he yells my name before chasing me down.

Running while laughing? Impossible. He always catches me, pinning me down against whatever is closest—the floor, the wall—before tickling me until I can’t breathe.

It’s fun.

But not when I’m ovulating.

When he pins me down, holding my wrists above my head with one hand while tickling me with the other, my thoughts spiral into something else entirely. Something not-so-innocent.

That’s why, from the moment my ovulation started, I began avoiding him. No teasing, no pranks. I knew exactly where it would lead, and I didn’t trust myself to handle the consequences.

It’s late at night, and the boys are having a sleepover in our apartment. I can’t sleep—not with these thoughts clouding my mind—so I decide to take a cold shower, hoping it will help.

I step out of the tub, wrapping my bathrobe around me before opening the bathroom door—only to freeze.

A sharp gasp escapes my lips before I slap a hand over my mouth, as if that could undo what just happened.

Jay is standing right in front of me, his messy hair and relaxed posture making it clear he just got up. His hands are buried in the pockets of those gray joggers I hate—because he looks so damn good in them, and I would never admit it—but also love, because they fuel my fantasies about something I’ve never seen.

“Y-you scared me,” I stammer, lowering my gaze to the floor, unable to handle the intensity of his stare. The normal me would be mortified at how easily he’s intimidating me right now.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t let me pass.

I shift to the side, hoping he’ll take the hint and enter the bathroom so I can leave, but he remains planted in place.

“Jay… are you okay?” I whisper, mindful of the others sleeping in the living room.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking that?” he finally speaks, his voice low.

I swallow. “W-what do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb.” His head tilts slightly, eyes narrowing. “You’ve been avoiding me. Did I do something wrong?”

His words make me tense. “Jay, can we talk about this later? The others are sleeping.” I try to keep my voice quiet.

He moves at last, but not the way I want. He steps toward me. Instinctively, I step back.

My breath hitches when he enters the bathroom, swiftly turning around to shut the door behind him.

“Jay—w-what are you doing?” My voice trembles, my pulse racing at the thought of being alone with him in a closed space while I’m barely dressed.

“You’re not leaving until you tell me what I did wrong,” he says, arms crossing over his chest.

I exhale sharply, playing with my fingers, eyes glued to the floor. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then why have you been avoiding me?”

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.

Jay steps closer.

“Stop,” I blurt, taking another step back. “D-don’t come near me. Please.”

His eyes search mine. “Why?”

I sigh, my shoulders dropping. It’s too awkward to tell him the truth. That I’ve been fantasizing about him. That’s why I’ve been keeping my distance.

“I’ve been… feeling weird lately,” I admit, barely above a whisper. “Especially around you.”

Jay watches me carefully. “What do you mean?”

I force myself to meet his gaze, inhaling deeply before confessing, “I’m ovulating.”

The second the words leave my mouth, I regret them. I shut my eyes, hating how vulnerable I feel.

Silence.

I peek through my lashes to find him smirking. His lips curl into that maddeningly smug grin, his expression laced with amusement.

“Are you masturbating to the thought of me?”

My breath catches. My whole body stiffens.

Jay steps forward, closing the distance between us inch by inch.

“Jay…” My voice is shaky, betraying my rising panic—and something else I refuse to name.

His gaze darkens with mischief. “Are you having nasty thoughts about me?”

I keep retreating until my back meets the sink. There’s nowhere left to go.

“Jay,” I breathe, barely able to get the words out. “D-don’t come any closer.” My hands lift instinctively, a feeble attempt to stop him.

His smirk only deepens. “Why?” His voice drops to a husky murmur. “I can help you. But you have to tell me exactly what you want.”

I stop breathing altogether.

“Jay.”

“Yes, Isabella?”

The way he says my name—slow, deliberate, seductive—sends a shiver down my spine.

He never calls me by my full name. Never.

It’s always Isa like the rest of the group. Or Bella, when he’s feeling playful.

But Isabella?

That’s new.

And it’s dangerous.

I feel wetness slowly dripping between my thighs as I instinctively press them together. My breathing is uneven, and before I even realize it, Jay has already closed the remaining distance between us.

His hands gently cradle my face, tilting it upward so our eyes meet. “Aw, look at you… so red,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with amusement. “It must be really hard, huh?” His smirk deepens, clearly satisfied with the effect he has on me. Now, it’s his turn to tease, to watch me squirm.

Annoyed, I slap his hand away. “S-stop playing with me,” I stammer, turning my head to avoid his gaze.

“Who said I was playing?” he counters, gripping my chin and forcing me to look at him again.

His voice is low, teasing, dripping with control. “Tell me… how can I help you?” His lips hover just inches from mine, and I know he’s enjoying every second of my struggle. He knows exactly what I want—he just wants to hear me beg for it.

“I-I need you,” I breathe, leaning in, desperate to close the distance between us. But he pulls back at the last second, his smirk widening. He loves this. Loves watching me writhe, loves making me desperate.

“What do you need me to do, Bella?” His voice is a taunt, a challenge.

I let out a shaky sigh, surrendering to the inevitable. “I need you to fuck me… please.” My voice is barely above a whisper, but it’s all he was waiting for.

His smirk turns predatory. “Took you long enough to say it,” he murmurs before crashing his lips against mine.

The kiss is messy, desperate—our first, but I don’t care. His hand slides down my back, pulling me against him as we devour each other, tongues tangling, teeth grazing. My hands grip the sink behind me, my knees weak, barely holding me up.

I’m already addicted—to the taste of him, to the way his lips move against mine, to the heat radiating from his body.

He pulls away, leaving us both breathless, but he doesn’t stop. His mouth moves to my neck, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses, sucking, teasing. A moan escapes my lips before I can stop it, and in embarrassment, I slap a hand over my mouth.

Jay halts immediately, his darkened gaze locking onto mine. He reaches up, prying my hand away. “Don’t hide those pretty little noises from me,” he murmurs.

His fingers move to the knot of my bathrobe, untying it with excruciating slowness before sliding the fabric off my shoulders. It pools at my feet, leaving me bare before him.

His eyes finally break away from mine, traveling down my body. I watch as his pupils dilate, his jaw tightening. His gaze is hungry, devouring every inch of my exposed skin—from my round breasts and hardened nipples to my wide hips and thick thighs.

I shiver as his fingertips ghost over my stomach, tracing a slow path upward until he cups one of my breasts. A soft groan escapes me at the sensation, and he watches, fascinated, as my chest rises and falls under his touch.

His thumb brushes over my nipple, rolling it between his fingers, sending a bolt of pleasure straight to my core. My thighs press together instinctively, desperate for friction.

“W-why are you acting like that? Haven’t you ever seen a—ahh—a woman’s body before?” My voice is shaky, my breaths uneven.

He smirks, his hands kneading my breasts, applying just the right amount of pressure. “No, I haven’t.” His voice is calm, but there’s something darker beneath it.

I let out a breathy chuckle. “Y-yeah, I… ahh… I kinda figured.”

His head tilts slightly, amused. “Oh?”

“You’re always so irritated,” I manage between gasps, my body arching into his touch. “I just assumed it’s ‘cause you’re a virgin… and you just needed to get fucked.”

He chuckles at my state—flustered, desperate, unraveling under his touch. But instead of responding, he pinches my nipples, drawing a strangled moan from my lips.

“I find it funny how you’re still being a brat,” he muses, “when I’m here to help you.”

Then, without warning, he leans down, capturing one of my nipples in his mouth. A sharp gasp leaves me as he sucks, his tongue flicking, teasing, driving me insane.

I’m losing myself in the pleasure, my body greedy for more. “You can play with my body another time,” I pant, barely able to form words. “Just hurry up and get this done before someone wakes up.”

Jay pulls back slightly, licking his lips, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “So… you’re planning on doing this again?”

Realizing what I’ve implied, I quickly look away. “Shut up and hurry up.”

He chuckles again, the sound deep and rich, before I feel his hands leave my breasts. When I glance down, my stomach tightens—he’s sinking to his knees, eyes never leaving mine.

A thrill of anticipation runs through me as he lifts one of my legs, placing it over his shoulder. My heart pounds when I realize how close his mouth is to my dripping heat.

“Y-you don’t have to do that,” I stammer. “Just go straight to—ahh!”

My sentence is cut short as his tongue flicks over my clit, a low groan vibrating against me. The sensation sends a shockwave through my body, making me moan.

What starts as soft, teasing licks quickly turns into a full-blown assault on my pussy. His tongue moves with precision, alternating between slow, sensual strokes and intense, desperate sucking.

“Jay~ ah! Jay~ ngh! Please!” I can’t control the words spilling from my lips, my head thrown back as pleasure overtakes me.

His grip tightens on my thigh as his tongue dips lower, teasing my entrance before sliding inside. His fingers replace his tongue on my clit, rubbing circles that have my legs trembling.

A wave of pleasure crashes over me, unlike anything I’ve ever felt. My fingers tangle in his hair, my hips moving against his mouth, desperate for more. “Fuck, it’s so good!”

Then, without warning, he slides two fingers inside me.

I cry out, the sudden intrusion sending a jolt of sharp pleasure through my core. He doesn’t wait for me to adjust—his fingers pump into me, curling, stretching, filling.

I’m overwhelmed, completely at his mercy, my walls fluttering around his digits. The coil in my stomach tightens, my breaths turning ragged.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I chant mindlessly, gripping his hair harder as my body starts to tremble. The pressure builds higher and higher, an unstoppable force surging through me.

“Jay—ahh! I’m—I’m gonna—ngh!”

My orgasm crashes over me, violent and all-consuming. My body jerks, pleasure detonating in my veins as I come undone around his fingers.

But he doesn’t stop.

Instead, he continues—licking, sucking, fucking me through the aftershocks. My body twitches, my nerves overstimulated.

“Ja—Jay, stop, stop! I can’t take it anymore!” My voice is high, desperate, as I try to push his head away.

But he just smirks against me, completely ignoring my pleas.

Because Jay doesn’t give a fuck if we get caught.

Eventually, I stop feeling any movement inside me—the friction of his fingers, the warmth of his tongue on my clit. He withdraws his hand, and I hear the slick sound of him licking his fingers. My head is tilted back as I try to regain my senses, so I can’t see what he’s doing, but I can picture it in my mind. The thought alone sends a shiver through me.

Slowly, he stands, taking his time to admire my body. When I lift my head, I find his eyes locked onto mine.

"Where did you learn to do that?" I ask, struggling to believe he’s really a virgin after what he just did.

"YouTube tutorial," he replies, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, pulling down his joggers.

I watch, my gaze trailing down to where his erection strains against his boxers.

"Yeah, right," I scoff, rolling my eyes at his broken humor.

"I'm just naturally good at this," he says, his dark eyes never leaving mine as he slides his boxers down, revealing his thick, veiny length. My breath catches. How is that supposed to fit inside me?

"Wait, we don’t have condoms," I say, snapping back to reality as he steps closer, his bare chest now fully exposed. He’s fit—lean, toned, perfect.

"I’ll pull out before I cum," he assures me, positioning himself between my legs.

His gaze flickers down to my chest, rising and falling with my heavy breathing, before meeting my eyes again. He can tell I’m nervous. But I’m not scared—at least, not in the way he thinks. I’m more excited than anything, overwhelmed by the anticipation of something so unfamiliar.

"Do you want to keep going?" he asks, his voice softer now.

I swallow hard. "Yes. Keep going."

But he still doesn’t seem convinced, so I lean forward, capturing his lips in a deep kiss. When I pull away, I whisper again, more confidently this time, "Keep going."

"Alright, but this time, try not to be too loud—"

"Hey, you’re—"

Before I can finish, he presses forward, the thick head of his cock stretching me open.

"Ah," I gasp, my body instinctively clenching around him.

It hurts, of course—just like any girl's first time—but the need for him overshadows the pain.

"Does it hurt?" Jay groans, his voice strained as if he’s holding himself back.

"Just a little, but I’m fine. Keep going."

He sinks deeper, my walls fluttering helplessly around him. I bite my lip hard, my gums aching from how tightly I clench my teeth.

A low, guttural moan escapes him. "Can you—ah… can you try not to clench so much?" His eyes remain shut, his brows furrowed as if he's using every ounce of willpower to keep himself together.

"S-Sorry, I-I can’t control it… but I’ll try."

He pushes in further, stretching me open inch by inch. The more he fills me, the harder it is to breathe.

By the time he’s fully inside me, I can feel his cock twitching slightly, making me clench around him even more. His breath is shaky against my ear as he wraps one arm behind my back, pulling me closer while his other hand keeps my leg hooked around his waist.

We stay like this for a moment, giving me time to adjust—or maybe giving him time to focus, to keep from losing control too soon.

I feel his warm breath ghosting over my skin. "Jay… y-you can start moving now," I murmur, my hips rocking unconsciously to create some friction.

Instead of answering, he straightens, his arm still bracing my back as he slowly thrusts forward.

"Ah," I moan, louder than I intended, before quickly covering my mouth.

I try to stay quiet, but it’s impossible. The way he moves—the way he fills me—makes it feel too good. Too good.

"Fuck, you’re clenching so much," he groans, voice tight with restraint.

"Mmnh… fuck, fuck, fuck," I whimper under my breath.

Jay suddenly lifts my other leg, leaving me completely at his mercy. The new angle makes him reach deeper, thrusting faster, harder, hitting a spot inside me that makes it absolutely impossible to keep quiet.

"Jay! Jay!" I whimper, feeling an intense, familiar pressure building deep in my core.

"Yes, Bella," he groans, voice raw, his thrusts growing more desperate. His cock twitches inside me.

"Don’t stop—I’m going to cum~" I cry, my walls spasming violently around him.

"Fuck—I-I’m not planning on stopping, Bella," he rasps, pounding into me a few more times before I shatter around him, pleasure crashing over me in waves.

My body shakes from the intensity, but he doesn’t stop—he keeps fucking me through it, chasing his own release.

"J-Jay—too m-much," I whimper, my body twitching from overstimulation.

"I—I know, I’m sorry. I’m about to cu—ah—ah," he groans, pulling out at the last second.

His breath stutters as he strokes himself frantically, his release spilling hot and thick across my stomach. His head drops against my shoulder, both of us struggling to catch our breath.

"Do you still think my dick is small?" he asks after a moment, a teasing smirk creeping onto his face.

"Yes. Very much," I lie, refusing to feed his ego.

He chuckles, lifting his head. "Ngh, so big," he mimics, tilting his head with a playful smirk. "Isn’t that what you said?"

"Shut up," I mumble, smacking his arm lightly, making him laugh.

Suddenly, he hooks his hands under my thighs, lifting me effortlessly.

"What are you doing?" I yelp.

"We’re taking a shower," he says simply, carrying me toward the bathroom.

Once inside, he sets me down gently before turning on the water. The warm spray cascades over us as he grabs a washcloth, squirting body wash onto it before rubbing it across my skin, cleaning away the sweat and the mess he left on my stomach.

His touch is slow, deliberate, almost tender. And as he moves the cloth over me, I can’t help but think—I never expected this from him.

And yet, I never want it to stop.

[phightingaus]

Okay okay AU i came up with while daydreaming about making skins for phighting(they will never make it in the game but anyways) Basically, all the phighters are part of a theatrical play group mainly doing medieval drama and tragedy, but sometimes do comedy things. Valk and Dom are the directors of the plays, with Firebrand owning the entire theater and Umbrella as a manager. Some changes are made to the characters and world, there's no deities but they're a folktale told among inphernals. Valk and Dom sometimes joke about Firebrand looking a lot like the deity of fire from that story, it was also adapted into a play.

Roles the phighters get(some are based off in game skins, some are of my own pondering):

Sword- The follower, Sunburst/The gladiator, Sir Edward Fencer(a government captain, used for pirate plays. Falls in love with Captain Dolphin eventually but they both fue a tragic death by hanging because dolphin is a pirate and edward betrayed his country)

Skateboard- Egobworder/The paladin, Hoverboard, "Surfer with wheels"(for pirate plays)

Biografts are characters in different plays, different skins are used for different themes(Biocarved for a halloween play, Cocoagraft for a christmas play, Floatiegraft for a pirate themed play, the rest are for the sci-fi plays) and are played by multiple actors

Katana- The ronin, The forest spirit, Cyber,

Banhammer- The kraken, The undeadman(basically frankenhammer), the demideity

Rocket- Prince Stargazer, Captain "dolphin"(named after the character tricked a government navy and taking their ship with the most firepower after getting in via pretending to drown)

Slingshot- The mummy/The pharaoh, The maiden(killer in a detective play)

Hyperlaser- The angel/The guardian, the mercenary

Shuriken- The dragon of the east, Silver Shadow(the vigilante thing I also adapted into a play with this AU), The merman(pirate play)

Scythe- The most wanted, the dutchwoman, Jessica Albertro(detective, main character in a detective play)

Medkit- The devil, Doctor Williams(character in a detective play),The bartender(side character from the pirate play)

Boombox- Eggsquerade/The butler, The musician(comic relief guy used in both the pirate and detective plays) He seems to really like playing comic relief characters

Vinestaff- The weeping angel statue, The goddess of flowers, the mermaid(pirate play)

Subspace- the scientist(from detective play), the capper(from the pirate play), the exorcist(main character in a fantasy phasmaphobia ish play, all the undead and mystical characters are also in it)

Coil- the hellhound(pirate play) and err iono, he's probably pretty new to this and does it as a side hustle from boxing

Extras:

Traffic is a janitor, Pwnatious are a sponsor of the theater and the finance manager, Zuka is the mechanic and practical effects guy. Broker is an accountant, there's no Church of the true eye in this, well, at least they're a lot more chill. Paint Buckét is the makeup artist. Spray Paint, Graffiti, Steampunk, Dollmaker and Rainbeau are all in the propmaking team. Mx Bot are the ticket person and SMM manager. Ghosdeeri is the fike manager, she has all the documents. Icedagger and Illumina sometimes get invited for propmaking when Christmas season hits and they need ice statues and paintings.

- star wars anon

holy shit sw anon

this feels so wholesome, so nice i love this

how about a sci fi play

what is scythe's vibe in this AU

the last part hit me right in the heart (yk ice and illumina making props)

wait should maybe coil, sub and steam work also as mechanics and prop guys all three of them know how to AT LEAST TINKER

SW PLEASE BRING YOUR MAIN OVER HERE SO I CAN FOLLOW IT YOU GLORIUS BASTARD, THIS AU IS EXACTALLY WHAT I NEEDED

[dawnstarranger]

Listen everyone has their own metric for what good writing is and isn’t but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t get me down a little to see one of my faves dragged through the mud by both haters and fans alike on a pretty much weekly basis

[aphoticfirefly]

here's my piece for the "Even Rats Have Lives" zine!

the rat grinders going on little ice cream runs post ratgrind have always been canon to me!! ALSO i highly encourage you to check out the bundle itch.io!!

[budugaapologist]

still dont see how so many people say that dawntrail is poorly written in comparison to other expansions like. what, did you realize you had to learn about a new culture and immediately not care anymore lmao? you've done it before, was this one not white enough for you?

genuinely i think more people should do side quests during msq so idk you can form a heart about the characters you're interacting with if you struggle with that and understand the land better so when impactful shit happens your illiterate ass can actually read and have empathy. theres no excuse for this.

if you can't handle storybuilding and character introductions from the expansion that feels like stormblood and shadowbringers had passionate gay sex that got one of them pregnant and birthed a beautiful daughter they both love and care about then idk what to tell you, maybe youre just lame and can't read. best of luck with that.

[writeouswriter]

You ever come up with a story concept and think oh this is brilliant, this is so good, this is so clever, I'm a genius, people will love this, and you brainstorm and you outline and you create a whole host of details about it, but also you... don't want to write it, not in a "I dislike writing" or "I want someone/something else to write this" type way, but in a "I love and enjoy this concept and want to be the one to execute it if it ever comes to pass, and yet this story/genre just isn't really me" way, like this is good but I'm not the one to do it, but also I'm the only one to do it, it's mine

[birdb1tch]

thinking about how in freshman year coach daybreak quite literally tried to kill kristen to bring the apocalypse (AMONG MANY OTHER THINGS) and upon being told this her own parents turned their back on kristen and said (paraphrasing), “thats not true and you cant prove that.”

thinking about junior year where kristen’s parents SAY shes always welcome to come back anytime and in an effort to keep the peace she says “thank you, thats very kind” HER OWN PARENTS!! ITS NOT KIND, ITS THE BARE MINIMUM! but mac and donna will never see it that way, because to them they didnt fail kristen, she failed them.

ALSO thinking about adaine’s parents who so obviously had no real love for adaine until she had use as elven oracle. and even then it wasnt love, it was a power grab. parents who start a war and leave without you. parents who only cared about power to the extent that they would be angered by adaine revoking aelwyns diplomatic immunity.

arianwen who truly could not understand that adaine was talking about when she called her mother cruel, and angwyn who thought he could “fix” adaine BY CASTING LIGHTNING AT HER

anyway, big long post about the parallels between these specific Bad Parents (and literal bad parents)