#applies to EVERY indignity

[sunflowersandink]

🥐 ⇢ name one internet reference that will always make you laugh 

you KICK miette?? you kick miette like the football???

oh!

oh!

jail for mother! jail for mother for 1000 years!!!!

[rafecameronssl4t]

Misunderstandings pt. 2 || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: Sofia knew what she was doing when mentioning Rafe to you, and she also knew what she was doing when she told you that he never mentioned you, his girlfriend.

Warnings: smoking, swearing, reader is sorta petty buts it’s whtvr

Word count: 1,486

A/n: I’m so glad everyone liked misunderstandings!!!!! PART 1 IS HERE

MASTERLIST

Divider by @yoonitos

“Don’t have to act like you didn’t see us, bitch,” you mumble under your breath, the rim of your champagne glass grazing your lips before you take a sip.

“Play nice, babe,” you hear Rafe mumble against the side of your head, his warm breath sending a shiver down your spine. You shoot him a sideways glance, a silent “really?” written all over your expression.

Rafe chuckles softly, his hand tightening slightly around your waist as he leans in closer. “Just don’t want you all worked up over some girl that I couldn’t care less about” he whispers, his voice low and intimate, a stark contrast to the tension brewing in the air.

As you turn your attention back to Sofia, you can’t help but feel a surge of annoyance at her blatant disregard. You’ve been discreetly observing Sofia working behind the bar, and you’re certain she caught sight of you and Rafe lounging on one of the many couches around the island club.

“Has she spoken to you at all after what happened?” Jada raises an eyebrow at you, her gaze flickering towards Sofia behind the bar.

You glance at Sofia, noting her deliberate avoidance of your gaze, her eyes fixed on her task with a determined focus. “No,” you reply, frustration seeping into your voice. “She’s been avoiding me, but not Rafe.”

Rafe’s thumb rubs comforting circles on your clothed hip, a silent reassurance amidst the tension. You let out a scoff, feeling a surge of indignation at Sofia’s audacity.

“The nerve,” Jada says, shaking her head in disbelief before swiftly changing the topic, a subtle cue to steer the conversation away from the brewing conflict.

After about 20 minutes, Rafe pulls you in close, his arm snug around your waist, his breath warm against your ear. “Just gonna have a smoke with the guys, yeah? We’ll be out on the porch,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing. He presses a gentle kiss to your cheek, lingering just a moment longer than usual.

You nod, feeling a mix of contentment and a slight reluctance to let him go. “Okay, don’t be too long,” you say, giving him a soft smile.

As Rafe stands and makes his way towards the porch, your eyes inadvertently drift to Sofia. She’s watching him, her gaze following his every move with an intensity that makes your stomach churn. Her expression is a mix of longing and bitterness.

But you push the unease aside, knowing that you trust Rafe completely. After the lies Sofia spread, he made it clear he wanted nothing to do with her. You turn back to Jada, who’s still chatting about the new shop downtown, and try to focus on the conversation.

Outside, you catch a glimpse of Rafe through the window, laughing with his friends, the smoke from his cigarette curling into the night air. He glances back at you, his eyes locking with yours for a brief moment. He gives you a reassuring smile as you return it.

“Come to the bathroom with me?” Jada gets up, as you turn back to her and hum in response, nodding. “Sure, let’s go.” You and Jada take a few minutes to touch up your makeup, sharing a laugh over the ridiculousness of some of the party guests.

As you finish applying your lipgloss, you give yourself one last glance in the mirror. “Ready?” you ask, turning to Jada. “Yeah,” she replies with a grin.

You both exit the bathroom, the noise and energy of the party hitting you once again. As you step back into the main room, your eyes instinctively drift towards the porch where you last saw Rafe, only to find it empty. A flicker of unease tugs at your gut, but you quickly push it aside. Rafe is probably just inside, chatting with someone or grabbing another drink.

“Where’s Rafe?” Jada asks, following your gaze to the now-empty porch. “I’m not sure,” you reply, scanning the room. “He was out there with the guys a few minutes ago. Jada shrugs, not too concerned. “He’s probably just inside somewhere. This place is huge.”

You nod, trying to shake off the slight worry that’s creeping in. You make your way through the crowd, Jada by your side, searching for any sign of Rafe. As you navigate the sea of faces, you catch snippets of conversations, the music thumping in the background.

Finally, you spot him near the bar, engaged in a conversation with Topper and a few other friends. Relief washes over you as you see him laughing and looking relaxed. But then, out of the corner of your eye, you notice Sofia lingering nearby, her eyes fixed on Rafe.

“You’re joking,” you say, lightly gripping Jada’s forearm to get her attention. She glances at you, then follows your gaze. “Does she not get the hint?” Jada’s jaw drops as the two of you watch from afar.

Sofia is leaning in closer than necessary, her laugh overly animated as she attempts to draw Rafe’s attention. Your grip tightens slightly on Jada’s arm, irritation bubbling up inside you. Jada shakes her head in disbelief. “Some people just don’t know when to give up.”

Okay, well she doesn’t seem to be walking to him—” Jada starts, but as if on cue, Sofia begins making her way toward Rafe. “—I spoke too soon—”

Without letting Jada finish, you push through the crowd to get to the bar. “Y/N—wait!” you hear Jada call out, but her voice fades into the background as you focus on reaching Rafe before Sofia does.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you weave through the throng of partygoers, the pulsating music and laughter blurring into a distant hum. Your eyes remain fixed on Rafe, who’s seated at the bar, oblivious to Sofia’s determined approach.

Just as Sofia reaches him, you slip in between them, placing yourself firmly on Rafe’s lap. “Hey, babe,” you say, wrapping an arm around his neck and leaning in close. “Missed you.” You lock lips with him, making sure to make direct eye contact with Sofia.

Rafe responds immediately, his arms encircling you and pulling you closer. The kiss is more than just a greeting; it’s a clear message. When you finally pull back, you keep your eyes locked on Sofia, her face contorted in embarrassment and disbelief.

“Oh, hi y/n. Didn’t see you there,” Sofia says, her voice dripping with insincere sweetness. “Clearly,” you reply, a steely edge in your voice. You glance at Rafe, who is looking at you with a mixture of amusement and affection.

Rafe litters a trail of kisses along your jaw, each one sending a warm shiver down your spine. His touch is reassuring and possessive, grounding you in the moment. As you continue to stare at Sofia with a smile, you feel a surge of confidence.

“How’s work, Sof?” you ask, your tone sweet but laced with unmistakable sarcasm. “Are you familiarising yourself around here? Y’know, getting in between relationships, that sort of thing.” You rest your chin on your knuckle, maintaining your smile as you watch her shift uncomfortably under your gaze

Sofia’s eyes dart nervously between you and Rafe, her forced smile faltering. “I… I’ve been busy,” she stammers, clearly caught off guard by your directness. “Just trying to get to know everyone.”

Rafe’s kisses travel from your jaw to your neck, his breath warm against your skin. “Sounds like she’s been getting to know people a little too well,” he murmurs against your ear, his voice low and protective. The sensation sends a thrill through you, and you can’t help but smile wider at Sofia’s discomfort

“Well, maybe focus on making friends with people who aren’t clearly happy in their relationship,” you suggest, your smile never wavering. Rafe’s hand tightens around your waist, and he looks at Sofia with a mixture of amusement and warning. “Yeah, we’re good here,” he says, his voice firm.

You slide off Rafe’s lap, feeling his hands gently readjusting the top of your dress as you smile at him gratefully. “Well, it was nice seeing you again, Sofia. See you around the country club, yeah?” You wave at her, your tone polite but tinged with a hint of superiority.

Sofia watches you leave, her expression unreadable, before offering a strained smile in return. “Yeah, see you around,” she replies, her voice tight.

With Rafe’s hand resting on the small of your back, you lead him away from Sofia, feeling a surge of satisfaction at the way you handled the situation. As you walk back to the others, Rafe’s arm wraps around your shoulders, pulling you close.

“Everything okay?” he murmurs, his voice filled with concern. You nod, leaning into his touch. “Yeah, everything’s fine. Let’s just enjoy the rest of the night.”

[dukeofriven]

As the notes are already pointing-out this is a pretty normal way of serving spiced rice in both the Caribbean and parts of south Asia, and probably everywhere that has both bananas and rice as staple foods and hot weather that needs countering with chilis. But for heavens sake mash them in why are they just sitting on top like a breakfast cereal ad?

STOP

[bunnwich]

Rituals☁️(Leona x Reader)

Leona is low on spoons after the Tamashina-Mina tournament and needs some attention. Also what better way for him to sneakily court his favorite creature?

Curated from my 200k+ words Leona x Yuu fic

Characters: Leona Kingscholar x Yuu!Reader (GN. No physical description for Yuu. Yuu knows massage therapy.)

Words: 3k, 3rd person

Notes: I saw a meme the other day about how: “Liberalism leaves people’s bodies when mental health starts to affect someone’s hygiene” and I thought of how the fandom used to treat Leona. Also, I really wanted to make the “he uses you as a pillow” cliche not icky. 

Tagging: @comingyourlugubriousness @nammanarin @twst-the-night-away @twstinginthewind @ephemii @the-monday-witch @anevilbunnyinthehat @stagefullofsilly @theshipthatneversetsail @patrioticarcreactor @ice-cweam-sod4 @beaniz @the-nightingales-song @efsstash @cyn-write @porcelain-animatronic @lowcallyfruity @bestmannequin2018 @h0rr0r-10ver-69

-

It was baffling enough of a request that Leona Kingscholar invited Yuu to his home, but even more so was the thing he asked of them now.

“What? Am I your servant now, too?”

“No, course not.” He seemed deeply offended at this implication, nostrils flaring in indignance while his ears flopped backward against his hair. “I’m…askin’ you.” His ears flipped back up as he took a step closer, awaiting their response.

“Wait. You're serious…?” Yuu asked with a crinkle of their nose.

“Please…?” The word was barely audible, the man’s green-eyed stare never breaking from theirs. “If you’d be so kind…” He smirked, putting on an air, propping a hand on his hip. It was a warm day at the palace and he donned a pair of loose linen pants and a matching cream-colored tank top, all embroidered with gold.

Yuu swayed their head back and forth while they considered the idea, unimpressed by the sudden “princely” act. What was he up to? They gazed down at the object in their hand as if it held the answer. Well, it wasn’t often that they heard that word from Leona Kingscholar. “Fine, okay.” 

Was it really such a big deal, brushing his hair?

–

The hammock below the two of them swayed with both their weights as they sat face to face, each teetering on each edge of the colorful canvas. Late afternoon light filtered through the stained glass over all the greenery of the palace gardens, gilding everything it touched. 

Sighing, Yuu made another move, leaning forward to grab another section of the dark waves from the man’s shoulder. They hadn’t even ended up using the brush much so far. The only thing it had been good for was hitting the man when he talked back. 

“Well, the good news is…I got most of it.”

On their way here, Yuu grabbed their bag, bringing it with them to the gardens. Luckily, they kept a few favorites with them at all times. A small vial of rosehip oil; that would work. It could be used for both skin and hair in a pinch. Removing the dropper from the bottle they dripped some more into their palms, rubbing them together before applying it to the end of the man’s loose curls.

“Stinks.”

Yuu couldn’t help but roll their eyes at him. “It’s just rose. It’s nothing compared to that eye-watering cologne you bathe in every day. They sighed, working it through his thick tresses in the silence, pulling it all through to the ends of each section. “...I shouldn’t really be brushing it when it’s all tangled like this, you know.”

“Tch, I know that,” He said indignantly, his lips pressing into a small pout, eyes downcast to watch them work. “Everyone just assumes my hair is like my brother’s…”

They pressed their lips together. “Hmph. Then do it yourself, next time, huh? ” Letting out a huff, they released the bushel of soft curls, the dark curtain falling over Leona's neck. His hair honestly wasn’t as bad as he had made it seem. It just needed some moisture and careful detangling.

“Naw, why would I…when you’re already doing it for me.” The man reclined forward, propping his elbow on the canvas. “Mmm.” He watched them move on to the next section, meticulously separating the frizz and smoothing it over with the oil. Releasing a small sound in his throat,  he stared up at them with lethargic eyes, seemingly in a trance. 

Yuu shook their head at his comment, knowing that secretly he was just eating up the attention.  Keeping their eyes down on their work, they were careful not to pull too hard on his strands.

Leona muttered something as his lids fell completely closed, the end of his tail tapping on the edge of the hammock by their knee. A steady drumbeat.

They took their time with the rest, with only the noise of a few birds calling and Leona’s occasional sigh or grumble. It wasn’t long before, their lids lulled down too. It was relaxing in a way, quietly detangling someone’s hair.

Every once and a while their eyes flitted to the man’s face, catching the little twitch of the corner of his lips. After Yuu was done the detangling, they pulled two equal parts of the bottom sections forward, trying their best to get them even. They stuck their tongue out while they focused, before braiding them as neatly as they could manage, in the way he normally wore them. 

“There, you look more like yourself...” Yuu shrugged when they were done, tugging on one of the braids, and making sure the man wasn’t actually asleep.  “Better?” They crossed their arms, raising a brow over at him.

“Yeah.” The man opened his eyes slightly, the edge of his mouth falling into a crooked, but satisfied smile. “You did good.” His voice crackled just like the way a warm fire would. Like the bonfires at Savanclaw. He may have been sincere, but everything Leona said was always dipped in just a little bit of patronization.

Yuu palmed him on the forehead, pushing his face away slightly before letting their fingers drift up to his scalp, moving some of the hair out of his face.

“Hm?” He questioned, shifting slightly, turning his head to look up at what they were doing.

“Are you uh- still having those headaches?” They began to work their finger into his crown, between his twitching ears, pressing gently down on a few familiar pressure points. “I have to tell you, I’m the best.”

“I always have a headache when you're around.”  He sat up erect, suddenly seeming full of energy, grabbing their calves and yanking them closer to him, practically into his lap. He kept going until the backs of their legs were hooked over his thighs. He chuckled in delight at their bewildered deer-in-headlights reaction. 

Yuu froze at his boldness, pressing their lips together into a pout as they stared up at him with blinking eyes. 

“Don’t be all shy, now. Prove it. I think I got a big one coming on.” He purred at them.

Still playing, hm? “Hmph.” They huffed out a breath at his shenanigans.

Leona didn’t let them get far though, keeping his lock around their ankles, leaning over to study their reaction. “Feel free to say no.” He released them, holding his hands up innocently. “...If you’re not up to the task that is.” A bit of his white fangs gleamed as his sneer widened, leering at them through his dark lashes.

“You-” Yuu stuttered, resigning themselves. They were falling for it. This is what Leona was best at: pushing others into “proving themselves” by gently prodding them from their comfort zone.

“Fine.” Saying nothing more, they only lifted their hands to evaluate him once more, taking in a breath before tracing their fingers down the sides of his muscular neck. 

Ah, the man seemed a bit surprised to see them agree, but he quickly masked it with another smug smile as he lifted his jaw to accommodate them.

Leona’s skin was much warmer than theirs and surprisingly smooth, his excited pulse fluttering under their fingers. “Hm. You are tense.” They muttered aloud, pressing their thumb into one of the hard muscles there. “That hurt?”

“Ack, what do you think? Beast…” He hissed, his ears lowering slightly, grabbing their wrist to stop them.

Yuu smirked, most people didn’t expect that kind of strength from them…until they gave them a chance to prove it. “Sheesh, sorry you big baby. I was just askin’.” They rolled their eyes and swatted his nosy hand away. This allowed them to focus again, laying their palms on both of his broad shoulders. 

They could see it clearly now, his shoulders were rounded forward, and his left side was higher–signaling to them he probably held more tension there.

The man was studying them again, one grumpy eye barely open. 

Yuu chuckled, no one expects how much it hurts. Though as much as they enjoyed hurting the man, they went in softer this time, gently kneading his shoulders and neck, before they bothered to poke him anymore. As they worked closer to his jaw, they became enveloped in his signature smell. Traces of cinnamon, hints of orange, and star anise lingered on their fingertips as they explored his exposed skin, taking care to not pull on the golden necklace that hung from his neck.

“How…did you know?” Leona asked through a groan.

 They had hit the right spot.

“The way you walk, for one. You know, with your head forward. For royalty…your posture is terrible, you know. You heard Vil. Anyways, I can just tell by feeling most of the time.” Yuu added, continuing to work on the tightest areas first.

“Tch, you’re one to talk,” He said through his groans, brown ears flopping to the sides as he began to relax into their skilled touch. “...I recall us both getting reamed by Schoenheit at those practices.”

“Hey, I’m not the one on trial here. You asked for my expert opinion.” They continued, reaching around to the back of the man’s neck to rub circles in the base of his skull, moving up into his thick hair.

Leona made a rumbling noise in his chest at this, letting his head nod forward until he went completely limp in their hands. Somewhere, between the ticks of both their breaths, he had slumped his whole weight on them. A whole lion in their lap.

“Mmm.” He nuzzled his forehead against Yuu's shoulder, moving his hand from their calf up onto their arm, running a finger across the loose thread of their sleeve.

Yuu tensed, the man’s warm breath tickling their neck. It felt a little surreal to think such a powerful mage lay against them now like an oversized house cat. It was sort of an honor that he felt so relaxed around them. Sort of. 

They shook their head, trying not to giggle, and straightened their back to accommodate the new weight. Yuu kept on working as if nothing had changed, ignoring the fluttering in their guts that his soft breaths over their cheeks stirred. 

After they finished with his scalp, they worked back down to his shoulders, grabbing both of them and twisting them to one side, signaling wordlessly for the man to turn around for them. The hammock squeaked as he rearranged himself and Yuu pulled his head down into the center of their lap.  

Some people they had worked on, like Jack, could never fully relax for them, no matter how many times they reminded him to. However, the oxymoron of man before them seemed to have no problem flopping over like a sleepy kitten, ready to be petted. 

Going by cat behavior, he had shown them his belly, a small sliver peeking from the edge of his top. Now, with a completely malleable lion in their lap, Yuu couldn’t help but smile. He was totally at their mercy, moving whichever way they pulled him.

Their fingers made their way up and down his neck shoulders and even a bit of his chest, respecting the barrier of his tunic's low neckline.

Every once in a while, Leona’s lips tumbled open with a deep rumbling sigh of relief, pressing himself in their touch with each stroke, seeming to crave more and more. Their face grew hot, some part of this felt…too intimate. No, no. It was just a massage, but the man’s touch-starved reactions were becoming harder and harder to ignore.

 It was only when Yuu’s fingers reached up to his jaw did Leona open his eyes once more.

As their fingertips settled on the sides of his face, his shoulders went stiff under their care, Leona’s pulse ramping up for the first time during the massage.  His jaw tightened as they brought their fingers up to the temples of his grimacing face, trying to soothe him. 

He couldn’t be nervous now, could he?

“You…hold a lot of tension in your face too,”  They said calmly, urging his head to the right side, “Especially your…jaw.” They moved down to press their thumb into his cheek, easily finding the small, rigid muscle on the left side of his face.

The man grunted, “Easy.” 

Yuu shook their head again and eased up some. “...Just breathe.” They sighed, rolling their eyes as they massaged his jaw. “That right there is probably a big culprit of your headaches, you know.”

“Hmm,” He replied thoughtfully, his face softening some at their more gentle method. 

Their fingers worked each side of his face some more, then trailed slowly up his nose, rubbing circles across his sinuses. When they made their way up to his “third eye” area they rubbed extra hard to make a point, trying to get him to relax once more. “Sorry, just trying smooth out that permanent wrinkle you got there…”

Leona scoffed, dipping his head back into their touch, and closing his eyes shut again. “Tch, yeah well, every time I come home to visit it ages me five years, so...” He chuckled.

Yuu let out a light chuckle too, taking the strokes they made on the man’s cheeks upward and into his hairline, brushing against his scar a few times.

Leona’s forehead creased, an uncommon expression gracing his usually stern or sarcastic face. His broad nose curled in discomfort and they could see his eyes flicker anxiously under his lids. He was even holding his breath.

“Hey…Just breathe I told you!” They repeated with another soft laugh. “It helps with circulation.”

“Mmph.” The man said nothing and grunted at them before exhaling loudly. They would have thought they were doing something painful to him by his expressions.

Yuu tilted their head, realizing exactly what this was all about. They cupped their palms around his cheeks before dragging the stroke up, one of their fingertips running over the edge of his scar again to test the theory. 

The skin was dryer there and slightly raised. It created extra pull whenever they went over it. But, besides that…it was no different than any other part of his face. The Leona Kingscholar couldn’t be self-conscious, could he? No one ever really commented on it, and it surely did nothing but, to quote Rook: add to his “handsome and rugged charisma.”

But, the more they thought about it, they could understand why he was so dodgy about it. A memory like that, couldn’t have been pleasant.

The more times Yuu went over it they sensed a strange pull of energy from the area, like deep space. They were sure it was something the man had buried deep, so he could convince himself that he didn’t remember what actually happened anymore. 

Can’t remember every little scratch, he said once. How many people knew the real truth, they wondered. Or if there were any legends behind it in the palace.

“You don’t have ta’ touch it.” The man blurted out, trying to keep a straight face. His lips pressed together hard before he feigned a usual smug grin. “Though, I know that you’re a professional and all.”

“Wha-” Yuu almost wanted to roll their eyes at him for how dramatic he was being but, they didn’t. 

 “And- Why…would it bother me?” They asked casually, continuing the face massage as normal.

“Hmph.” Leona let out a huff, one side of his mouth arching upwards into a small smile. “I…see.” When he opened his eyes again, they were shiny, reflecting the tree tops around them. “Not many people have uh-”

 “Feel better?” Yuu lifted their hands from his face as they finished, saving him from the awkwardness of elaborating further. They had seen plenty enough to know how relieved he was at their response. That was enough.

“Mmhm.” He answered, clearing his throat before sitting up to face them again, the whole hammock groaning in response.  “....Thank ya.” He muttered, reaching behind to rub the back of his neck. “Much looser now-”

Leona sighed, eyebrows curving up over his eyes. Then, all at once his gaze snapped up to them, taking them in from head to toe. In one smooth movement, he let his body settle down against theirs, his strong shoulder pressing against them. 

Yuu’s heart hammered against his, mirroring the same fervid beat. No, this was more than just hair brushing. They hadn’t considered the implications until this moment, those of beastmen courtship and personal hygiene that they had read about. The concepts were often interlinked. Sacred.

A hug? No, he was just still just staring at them now, inches away, like a cat ready to pounce. The usual slits of his eyes were dark pools of space, reflecting back their own baffled expression. 

Yuu swallowed. They were so gridlocked by his intense stare, it was hard to speak or even breathe with him pressing them so firmly to the canvas hammock. He seemed at odds with something, his worn gaze downcast. “W-What…what’s wrong, Leona?” They whispered through an unsteady chuckle, managing to keep their head.

“Nothin’. Nothin’ at all.” He whispered, letting his weight sink further into them. There was a peaceful smile on his face as he reached up to grab a section of their hair from behind their ear, twisting it between his fingertips, tail flopping behind him lazily.

It felt like they were being chosen for something.

“Wha-” Their eyes widened, it took them a whole 30 seconds to realize the man was braiding the pieces together, calm and methodical, like when he was arranging his pieces on a chess board. Part of the plan. It was obvious Leona knew how to braid hair but it was…surreal to behold it.

When he was done the corner of his mouth turned up more, creasing a dimple into his cheek. His eyes fixated on the sight of his results, he was so…proud of his work.

Yuu didn’t even have time to speak before he turned his head away, lying his cheek on one side of their shoulder once more. He had done it so casually as if he had done it a hundred times before and would do it a hundred times more.

They understand why he did it, the two of them were…a matching set now.

He chose them. Their heart squeezed as the man draped his arms around their waist, locking them in place once more as something shifted between them.

 Leona’s cocky air had all but dissipated. “...Is this okay with ya?” He muttered so softly they almost missed it. He was asking permission, asking if they would accept him.

“Oh um…Y-yes.” They let their arms fall around his back, tugging on the end of his curls as they held him. Yes, he was getting way too comfortable, but it was their fault for allowing it, right? Yuu laid their head on his, letting him know for sure that: yes, it was okay.

“Hey, I know you're not falling asleep right now.” They grumbled playfully, tugging on his hair and furrowing their brow. Meanwhile, they curled their legs around his torso like a koala as he held them tight, making sure there was no space between them.

They knew it was all a lost cause. He had set the board how he wanted. He would not let them go again, and they didn’t want him to.

“Shh,” Leona mumbled into their shirt, inhaling deeply. “ You’ve been real workin’ lately hard, right? Rest wit’ me.”

“But I-” Yuu yawned, their eyes watering some as they did. The action had forced their eyes shut. The breeze also was not helping, rocking them both gently inside the hammock.  “Fine. But just for a little while.” They breathed out, their own shoulders finally relaxing. Yuu’s head slumped over to gently bob against Leona’s. 

“You win…this time.”

The man only chuckled at their admission of defeat, a warm note buzzing against their chest. 

The last thing they saw was the colored glass of the greenhouse, filtering in pink light through the serrated leaves of the palm trees.

Leona’s sighs of contentment traveled through their body, as his warm fingers kneaded into their back. 

--

[missaengg]

Missing You

Day 3 of Kinktober: Visions of Temptation hosted by @xxsycamore Featuring: Love and Deepspace | Rafayel x f!reader Tags: mdni, established relationship, phone sex, dildo, sex toys, masturbation, pwp Prompts: Phone Sex | "See this? It's going to go inside you." ao3 link here.

You stare morosely at your phone. Rafayel had left for an art exhibition in another city a week ago, and despite knowing that he has an insanely jam-packed schedule, you feel miffed he hasn’t had a chance to call even once during that time. 

Your face lights up when your phone starts ringing, the face of your boyfriend lighting up the screen. “Hello?”

“Hi, cutie. Miss me?”

You sigh, leaning back against the sofa. “Tons. When are you getting back?”

“Next week. Thomas has me touring the west side. I think I’ve got an exhibition almost every other day, interviews lined up in between, and gallery parties in the evenings.”

“I love and hate that you’re so busy.”

Rafayel chuckles, the sound tinny and flat through the phone speaker. “I hate being away from you for even a day.” 

“Me too…”

“I have a surprise for you to make up for how long I’ll be gone.”

Your ears perk at the word ‘surprise’, bolting up in eager anticipation.

“It should arrive right abooooooout… now.”

The doorbell rings as soon as Rafayel finishes speaking. Curious, you make your way to the door, opening it to a medium sized box on your welcome mat.

“Open it.”

You bring the box inside back to where you were sitting on the couch, ripping open the tape and pulling out the crumpled paper inside to… what appeared to be a dildo? “Um, Rafayel, what is this?”

"See this? It’s a mold of my dick. It's going to go inside you."

You gulp. For some reason, this replica seems much bigger than he is in real life. “Are you sure you didn’t make the dildo bigger? I could’ve sworn you’re not this big.”

“I–” Rafayel pauses, and in the most indignant tone he can muster, utters, “Of course I’m that big. How the hell are you remembering me?” An irritated sigh floats through the speaker. “I’m going to have to remind you just how big I am when I get home… but in the meantime, that’s going to go inside of you.”

“You want me to have sex with a dildo?”

“My dick shaped dildo. And we’re going to have sex using the dildo as a temporary placeholder until I get back.”

You squint your eyes, staring at the smooth, silicone dildo before you, tilting your head at how we would be having sex. “How?”

“Like this.” You can hear the mischievous twinkle in his voice even over the phone. “I kiss you lightly. My hands are on your cheeks, and they make their way down to your neck, over your shoulders, down to your chest, grazing your breasts. Touch yourself lightly there like I’m touching you. What are your nipples doing? Are they hard?”

You blink. Oh. You follow Rafayel’s instructions, lightly grazing your hands across the front of your breasts. Your nipples pucker under your clothing into firm nubs poking through the thin cardigan you’re wearing. “They’re hard. They’re… poking through my sweater.”

“Good, good. Now I’m placing my thumbs on them, applying pressure, rolling them underneath.”

You roll your thumbs over yourself, feeling tingles within your core from the stimulation. “That feels good, Raf.”

“Now give them a pinch for me.”

You squeeze with your pointer and your thumb, an involuntary gasp leaving your lips. 

Rafayel groans in response to your gasp. “Are you turned on yet? Getting nice and wet for me?”

“I’m not wet enough.”

“Hm… we’re going to have to fix that then, aren’t we?” You hear him shift on his hotel bed, the covers rustling from his movement. “I slide my hands down your torso – are you wearing a skirt or pants?”

You still when your hands reach the waistband of your bottoms. “I’m wearing a skirt.”

You swear you can hear Rafayel smirk over the phone. “Even better. I slide my hands down over your hips to your thighs until I reach the hem, and then I push the fabric up exposing you to your panties. My fingers–”

“– I’m not wearing any.”  

“...What?”

“I said I’m not wearing any underwear.”

Rafayel’s breath catches in his throat at your admission, and knowing your lovely boyfriend, you imagine his face is turning beet red. When he begins breathing again, his breaths are shallow and rapid, and his voice is strained. “Why aren’t you wearing any panties?”

“...iwasthinkingaboutyou…” you mumble into the phone, your own face now a brilliant shade of red mirroring the blush that has likely formed on your boyfriend’s face.

“What?”

“I–” you groan at having to voice this thought out loud, the flush on your face growing even darker, “I was thinking about you!”

A long guttural groan comes through over the speaker. “Naughty cutie,” Rafayel practically hisses. “You’re making this so hard for me.”

“Are you hard right now?” 

“Yeah, so hard for you.”

“Are you… touching yourself?” You ask Rafayel tentatively, feeling shy at being this vocally intimate for the first time.

“Of course I am.” 

Rafayel’s groans flood your core, tingles radiating throughout your lower belly, leaving you squirming in your seat. You don’t care that you might stain your couch with your arousal. All you care about at the moment is Rafayel’s desire for you.

“Fuck, play with yourself for me.”

“You mean my clit?” “Yeah. Imagine I’m touching you, and touch yourself for me.”

You press a trembling finger to your clit, rubbing it in a circle, feeling your nerves burn. You close your eyes, imagining it’s Rafayel stroking you. You moan with each pass, the fire in your core growing hotter.

“God, I wish I could see you touching yourself.” Rafayel’s grunting quietly. 

You can barely hear his grunts over the phone under your own moaning, but the sound is only adding to the throbbing growing between your thighs. “I wish you were here.”

“Me too, baby. Me too,” Rafayel croons. “Are you dripping yet?”

You slide your finger through your slick folds, toying with your opening. “Tons. I’m so ready for you.”

“Grab my dick.”

You grasp his dick-shaped dildo in your hand.

“I enter you slowly, sinking in all the way until I’m filling you entirely. Can you feel me?”

“Ngh.” The sensation of his dick filling you leaves you gasping, your walls sucking his replica in. “You’re so big.” You’re panting already, delighted at how much he’s stretching you out.

“God, I can almost feel you.”

“Are you sure you’re really this big normally?”

“Seriously? I’ll remind you just how big I am when I get home, multiple times. Now focus.” Rafayel sulks, his pout reaching you though you’re unable to see the expression on his face. 

You grin wickedly hearing your boyfriend flounder. “Multiple times. You promised.”

“Honestly,” he huffs, his voice strangled on the other end of the line. “I should cancel the rest of this trip and come home right now.”

“But you can’t,” you hum in faux sympathy.

Rafayel growls impatiently. “I thrust into you. Follow me, baby. Fuck yourself with my cock. Pretend I’m there fucking you.”

You pump the dildo furiously, the silicone dragging on your walls. Your body remembers your boyfriend’s shape, your walls greedily dragging him in deep. 

“Put the phone by your pussy. I want to hear it.”

You place the phone on the couch by your gyrating hips hoping the sounds of his replica entering and exiting you carry through. “Can you hear it?”

Rafayel sharply inhales, which he then exhales in a low, guttural groan. “Fuck. Oh, fuck, that’s good.” 

Desperate for more, you reach your other hand down to probe your engorged clit. Your eyes roll back in your head, ecstatic moans ripping from your throat, his name falling off your tongue.

“Say my name, cutie.”

“Rafayel,” you moan, drawing out the syllables of his name.

Hearing his name on your lips excites Rafayel, and you hear the slapping of his fist against his pelvis accompanied by the sound of skin against skin. He’s groaning, the pace of his pumping growing into a feral frenzy. “Are you… are you close?”

“Mmhmm…” Your butt lifts off the couch, all the muscles in your legs tensing from the electricity building in your core. “Close, so close.”

“Cum for me,” Rafayel commands.

You let go, the shockwaves of your ecstasy washing over you in waves, a passionate cry bursting from your chest. “Rafayel.” Feeling your walls convulse around Rafayel’s replica, you repeatedly cry out his name.

Rafayel follows soon after, his utterances of ‘fuck’ making you smile in your blissed out state. You sink to the soft cushions below you without pulling out the toy Rafayel sent you.

“Did you make a mess?” Rafayel’s voice floats to you, twinkles of laughter evident in the satisfied exhaustion.

“When have I ever not with you?” You sweetly chuckle, curling up next to the phone now by your head.

“Heh… we’ll have to make a mess together then when I’m back.”

You hum, smiling as you close your eyes. “I need to inspect how big you are compared to your dildo. I seriously still think you may have augmented yourself a bit.”

“This again? Cutie, I promise you I really am that–”

You shake with laughter at Rafayel’s indignant protests, interrupting him to say “I prefer the real you. I miss you.”

“Me too. One more week, and I’ll be home.”

“I may need to sleep with Little Rafayel until you get back.”

“Don’t replace me with him!” Rafayel falls silent, and in a little voice adds, “Please.” 

You shake your head. “Never. Only when you’re not here.”

“Good.” Rafayel clicks his tongue. “I have to go, I’m supposed to attend some dinner soon, but I gotta clean up first.”

You whine feeling empty at the prospect of having to hang up the phone. You hear Rafayel sigh from the other side.

“I’ll try to call you soon,” he murmurs, feeling forlorn himself. “Keep Little Rafayel on hand for when I do. I’ll make it up to you.”

“You better,” you tease, covering up how much you loathe to let him go.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Rafayel hangs up the phone. You stare morosely at your phone again, but this time, you feel a little less lonely knowing that you have a little piece of him – as reminded by the feeling of him inside you – to keep you company until he returns.

[the-travelling-witch]

𝐈 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋

summary: you’ve not seen your boyfriend in a while, so when you call his name he’s ready to please 

pairing: xiao x afab! reader (no pronouns used)

warnings: nsfw/ minors dni, very soft, some good ol’ love making, f! masturbation, fingering (f! receiving), oral (f! receiving), mating press, unprotected sex (stay safe everyone!), marking if you squint

this is a repost because i'm moving my nsfw works onto this blog!!

genshin impact masterlist

The bed felt cold as you tried to get comfortable underneath the covers. But without the familiar weight of two strong arms wrapping around your waist, you just kept tossing and turning.

When was the last time you could spend some quality time with your boyfriend, let alone could get lost in each other’s touch? With the Lantern Rite upon you, more and more evil spirits found their way onto the mortal plane and Xiao was out hunting them down near constantly. You understood, of course. Liyue’s safety was the top priority and you’d never fault him for doing his Morax- sworn duty…

But you were needy, so incredibly needy.

It started when you came home from your commissions, exhausted and in dire need of a bath. Somewhere in the back of your mind, the tiny hope that Xiao would be there to greet you had taken root. Instead of the adeptus, you were merely met with silence and an empty house.

With a sigh, you drew yourself a bath and rooted through your closet for some comfortable clothes. Pretty quickly your fingers closed around familiar fabric and a tug later you held one of Xiao’s shirts in your hands… He’d forgive you, you decided. You needed the comfort of his scent around you now.

After soaking in the warm water until your fingers turned slightly pruney and drying yourself off, you slipped his shirt on and melted into the soft material. You decided to call it a day and got ready for bed without any rush. When you slid under the covers, there was still no trace of Xiao, so with a sigh you closed your eyes.

Just for sleep not to find you. In the pale moonlight of your bedroom, your thoughts kept drifting to your boyfriend and although it started very innocently, they soon spiralled into territory that would’ve made the elders in town gasp in indignance. And before you even considered stopping yourself, your hands started to wander.

You barely applied any pressure with your fingertips, your touch merely a whisper as Xiao appeared before your mind’s eye. The way he’d trace the sensitive areas of your body, worshipping you as if you were the most delicate flower and paying attention to how you reacted to his every action.

He’d lean down to whisper in your ear, his breath fanning your cheek as he told you to relax, leave it all to him, let him take care of you. Slightly dipping your fingers into the waistband of your pants, you slid them back up your stomach, the cold sensation of your fingers making goosebumps rise in their wake and pulling the hem of Xiao’s shirt up a few centimetres.

As you pinched one of your hardening nipples and gave it a light tug to feebly imitate the way he’d close his lips around it, lightly gracing his sharp teeth along your flesh, you could almost see his amber eyes gazing down at you, drinking in the sight in front of him. The mere fantasy of him so close to you again had your thighs rubbing together in search of some friction. You shuddered at the memory of him kissing down the valley of your breasts, mapping the planes of your abdomen with his lips even if he already knew every curve of your body.

At this point, you couldn’t tease yourself any further. It had been too long since you felt the pleasure of his attention and you were craving to release some of this tension. Unceremoniously, you stripped out of your pants and settled on top of the sheets before dragging your fingertips up the inside of your thighs.

There was already a wet patch forming on your panties as you teased your fingers over your slit. Xiao’s absence had made you so sensitive, the featherlight touch was enough to have your legs twitching, a little bit of pressure against your neglected clit enough to have you gasping for air. 

Impatiently, you slid the obstructing material down your legs, feeling your slick connect to the seat of the panties before snapping against your skin as the garment was left to hang from one of your ankles. 

Collecting some of your arousal with your middle finger, you ran it through your folds before pushing past the muscles of your entrance. For the first initial moments it felt good as you slowly worked the digit in and out of you but it quickly turned out to be not nearly enough to stimulate you.

Perhaps Xiao’s attentive care had spoiled you rotten and ruined you for everyone else, even yourself, but sooner rather than later you added a second finger. Finally, you felt yourself stretch just a little as more slick coated the palm of your hand but you still couldn't reach quite as far as your boyfriend’s skilled fingers could; not to mention, how heavenly the strokes of his dick felt against your velvety walls.

The effort of trying to bring yourself to the edge of pleasure had you panting just a bit but it became pretty clear you needed more stimulation than just your digits pumping rhythmically in and out of you. So, as your free hand found its way back under your shirt to massage the fat of your tit, your thumb clumsily rubbed little circles over your clit. While it wasn’t quite the same, it still had one or the other moan spill from your lips as you felt a familiar coil tighten in your stomach. 

Under your passionate touches, your spine slightly arched off the mattress as you clenched your eyes shut, picturing before you sweat-slicked teal bangs and sharply bright eyes. In anticipation of teeth gracing your pulse point and lips wrapping around the sensitive area below your throat, you craned your neck and threw your head back to give your imaginary partner easy access to do as he pleased. Before it registered in your mind, a single breathy syllable passed your lips and lingered in the air and…

“Xiao~”

The effect was instantaneous. Your general state of pleasure made you unaware of the black and green smoke at the end of your bed, the cutting glare scanning the room for enemies before widening at the sight in front of him.

In a motion very unlike him, the jade spear slipped from his grasp and clattered obnoxiously on the floor, alerting you to the presence of someone else there with you. Desperately, your mind tried to catch up to what was happening but before you could fully blink into consciousness, a familiar weight had already straddled your waist and a gloved hand cradled your neck to lead you into a searing kiss.

Under normal circumstances, Xiao wouldn’t have been so rash but really, the prolonged withdrawal from you also took a toll on him. And then, to be suddenly presented with the most sinful view of all, his patience ran thin. From his vantage point, he could see the shaking of your thighs, the curve of your chest and, most importantly of all, your fingers desperately working that glistening pussy of yours. All of this, as he now noted, while dressed merely in his shirt, staking his involuntary but not unwelcome claim over you.

“Xiao?” You broke away from his kiss to allow your lungs some air. “What are you doing here? I thought you were-”

“You called me,” he merely stated. “And now I’m here to please you.”

“You really don’t have to,” you said, yet still linked your hands behind his head and pulled him down to bridge the gap between you again.

“But I want to,” he whispered against the corner of your mouth, his thighs meeting the back of yours as he leaned over you. “Being away from you for so long was hard on me too.”

Gently but deliberately, Xiao caught the wrist of your hand that was fingering your core and brought it up to his mouth as he sat back on his haunches before wrapping his lips around your coated fingers. Whilst his tongue swirled around your digits, you could feel his sharp teeth graze your skin, teasing you by pretending to bite down. You knew he would never hurt you but feeling their sharp edges press into the pads of your fingers as he sucked the last of your arousal off of them made adrenaline course through your veins and the hairs in the back of your neck rise.

“I almost forgot how good you taste,” he groaned, golden eyes fluttering closed. Then, the yaksha’s weight lifted off of you as you felt the mattress dip under the shift of his weight. Your breath got caught in your throat as he guided your legs to rest on his shoulders, slipping your panties off your ankle and curling his arms around your thighs to keep you open for him. Xiao closely studied how your soaked pussy clenched under his gaze and in one swift motion, he pulled his gloves off with his teeth and discarded them. Lightly tracing through your folds, he mumbled more so for himself, “So pretty…”

“Xiao,” you moaned, thighs twitching in his hold as he blew a puff of air against your core. “Please touch me, I really need you.”

There was no need to tell him twice. With fervour, he licked a fat stripe up your pussy, his tongue flicking deliciously against your clit before diving straight into your fluttering hole. Despite the long absence, Xiao still knew your body like the back of his hand. In no time, your body was twisting on the bed as whines and whimpers spilled freely into the night’s air, spurring him on to tighten his grip on you. 

Normally, he’d shush you softly, reprimanding you to keep still so he could continue pleasing you. But today he just let you writhe under the assault of his tongue as he watched the euphoria cross your face. The vibration of his groans as you pulled him closer by his teal locks felt heavenly, the sensitivity from your lost orgasm still drumming through your veins.

The attention of his mouth shifted to your clit, wrapping his lips around the little nub and gently sucking on it as his fingers replaced his tongue. You could see the muscles in his arms flex with every movement against you and it sent more heat straight to your core. In an act of desperate selfishness, your heels pressed into his shoulder blades as your toes curled to ride out your approaching high on his scissoring digits. The sound of you chanting his name over and over as your pussy clenched down on him had his hips involuntarily rutting against the mattress to alleviate some of his need.

“Xiao, I’m so close,” you whined. “Please keep going.”

Curling his fingers forward into the spongy spot which made you see stars, he coaxed your orgasm out of you, greedily drinking up all your juices and not letting a single drop go to waste while you twisted your hands tighter into his hair.

Through the fog of pleasure you vaguely realised Xiao lifting himself off of you but before you could calm your breathing, he had already resumed sitting between your legs. With the ghost of a trace, his knuckles ran over your temple, pushing matted hair out of eyes. You repaid his gesture in kind, raking your nails over his scalp as he pressed caring kisses against your still racing pulsepoint, leaving faint hues of purples and reds to decorate the canvas that was your neck and shoulder.

“How are you feeling, love?” He whispered, deft hands massaging the flesh of your thighs which were caging in his slim waist. “Do you wish to continue?”

Bucking your hips up into his, earning groans from both of you, you chuckled breathlessly. “Xiao, I swear to the Archons, if you don’t fill me up…”

“I recall a certain human saying,” he mirrored your playful grin, “warning mortals to be careful what they wish for.”

Any form of witty remark died in your mouth as his fingers dug back into the flesh of your thighs as his warm length dragged through your folds, coating himself in your slick and his precum. The sensation of his cockhead catching your clit on every upward motion had you choking back whimpers as the knot in your stomach started tightening again.

As much as Xiao was awed by the sight of tears of pleasure watering your lash line, his patience was wearing incredibly thin and the need to be buried in you was becoming increasingly hard to ignore. 

“Are you ready, dear?”

“Yes, Xiao,” your need evident in those eyes he could lose himself in, “please make us feel good.” 

Lifting one hand off your leg, he aligned himself with your entrance before slowly pushing in. Even after all this time, Xiao still stretched you so well; just the mushroom tip had you gripping the sheets like a lifeline. Yet, you still encouraged your partner to keep going deeper until, eventually, he was buried balls deep inside.

After giving you some much needed time to adjust to his cock resting inside of your walls, Xiao started pulling out a little and thrusting back in without any rush, setting a slow but deep pace which had you feeling every vein decorating his shaft. The more your sweet noises increased in volume, the more strength he put into the movements of his hips, knocking the wind out of your lungs.

In one fluid motion, your legs were hoisted back over his shoulder as the adeptus leaned more of his weight on you and pressed your thighs towards your chest with his body alone. With his hands now free, Xiao could reach around your intertwined bodies to pin your wrists down against the sheets, which were now freed of the deathgrip you had on them. 

Somehow, this position always made him reach so much deeper than before, your cunt spasming around his dick when his pelvis ground against your clit. In combination with how effortlessly he seemed to hit all your sensitive spots, it had your back arching into his touch and your eyes rolling to the back of your head. And, as if to seal your fate completely, Xiao dove down to lock your lips and steal all remaining air from your lungs. 

“You’re taking me so well,” he praised, finally slightly out of breath as well, as he smeared a messy kiss against your forehead. “I missed you so much.”

“Missed you too,” you sobbed into his shoulder as another wave of pleasure licked up your spine and set your veins ablaze. “I’m… not gonna last…”

“Neither,” he panted, “I’m almost there, love.”

Bringing one of your linked hands up, he pressed a quick peck onto your knuckles before letting go and letting his fingers drift back to your sweat-slicked chest, pushing his shirt up to expose your breasts to the night’s air. Rolling one nipple between his thumb and index finger, he engulfed the other in the warmth of his mouth and lavished it in the attention of his tongue. 

Meanwhile, your free hand was slung over his back to keep him close. On a particularly well angled thrust, however, you dug your fingernails into his skin, no doubt leaving some nasty half moons to decorate his shoulder blade. The low grunt against your tit and the twitch of his cock against your insides had your core tightening, clamping down on him like a vice. You were sure there was no need in telling him, no doubt he was already well aware, and still…

“I’m close, Xiao,” bounced off the walls, flowing into the symphony of lewd noises filming the room as your lover readjusted his grip on your trembling thighs.

“That’s it, let go,” he breathed quietly, yet you still heard him so clearly. “Cum for me, love.”

With his encouragement you fell off the edge, lightning shooting through your limbs and stars dancing before your eyes. Chasing his own high and fucking you through yours, Xiao straightened up and held your legs down with his hands again, watching your marked up breasts bounce with each thrust whilst the rhythmic pulse of your walls encouraged him to spill deep inside of you.

And that was just what he did.

Comfortingly familiar warmth flooded your insides as your partner sloppily rode out his orgasm before slumping forward into your embrace. Your hand stroked calmingly along the length of his spine as you felt his cock softening inside of you with a last few twitches.

“I love you,” you mumbled sleepily, stifling a yawn against his shoulder. Now, with your energy spent and your beloved’s arms holding you, it was getting harder and harder to fight off the tempting pull of sleep.

Careful not to disturb you too much, Xiao slowly pulled out and watched his cum drip from your hole. On other nights, the sight might have made him pounce on you again but this time, he simply wanted to lie next to you as you fell asleep in his embrace. Giving each knee a sweet kiss, he set them down and stretched them out gently before sliding next to you and pulling the covers over you. He’d clean you up later, he promised as he guided your head to rest against his chest. For the time being, Xiao just wanted to hold you close.

“I love you, too.” And with that, he sent you off into the sweetest of dreams.

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[ddejavvu]

this has been in my mind for awhile but like poly!marauders sirius where james and remus after a long day go inside the bedroom to find you and sirius beside eachother on the bed both in hair rollers and just doing spa/salon stuff. LIKE JUSTDOING EACHOTHERS HAIR AND JUSTCLEANING CUTICLES AND NAIL HEALTH AND SKIN CARE

also sirius helping you wax your legs and james is just staring down you both with wide eyes horrified on the brink of tears because the idea of waxing just scares him to death and remus is beside him trying not to laugh PFFT OKAY BYE

Sirius is just smoothing the wax strip over your calf when Remus and James walk in. Remus recognizes the item from tv shows and movies, but James is none the wiser.

"Woah," James laughs at the curlers set in your hair, as well as the matching ones in Sirius's, "Wasn't aware there was a new hat in fashion."

"That's 'cause you dress the same every day," Sirius scoffs, "What do you know about fashion, basketball shorts?"

"You insult me," James throws a hand over his chest in mock indignation, while Remus sidles up beside the bed, holding out his hand for you to take.

"-but I know you like the way my thighs look in 'em," James grins devilishly at Sirius, who rips your wax strip off to avoid answering James's loaded accusations. You inhale sharply at the pain that shoots through your system, up your leg like someone's doused your skin in gasoline and dropped a match. You squeeze Remus's hand tight and in an instant, James's face goes from cocky to horrified, eyes widening and grin dropping.

"Mother of- Sirius! Don't- what are you doing?" He rushes to swat Sirius's hand away from your leg where he's reapplying the strip, fretting as the stickiness has already settled over your skin again. He tries peeling it off slowly and carefully, ignoring the way that Remus laughs at his skittishness.

"You're evil," James gushes at Sirius, who's giving you a look like he can't believe James has survived this long with the little intellect he's showing now.

"Ripping her bloody skin off," James mumbles further, whining low in his throat when the strip refuses to budge, "Darling, I- I have to rip it off quick, and it's gonna hurt, but-"

"Stop being a baby," Sirius gripes, reaching for the strip quick as a flash and tearing it off once more, "It's supposed to hurt."

"James!" You call as the man only worsens in nerves, probably ready to throw a punch or two at Sirius in defense of your honor, "I asked him to, love. It's a wax strip, he's waxing my legs."

"Waxing your- what?" James watches warily as Sirius applies the strip again, then rips it off to show him the discarded hair stuck there.

"It's easier and quicker than shaving," Remus explains, "But it does hurt for a bit."

"Yeah," James exhales shakily, flinching at the rrrip of wax on skin, "I- are you sure those are supposed to be used on skin? I thought those were for killing flies."

"That's a glue trap, darling," You hum, hissing as Sirius finishes off your lower leg. Remus drops your hand so that you can feel for any missed patches, and James eyes the used strip like it'll affix itself to his hair and tear it all out.

"Right." James nods, out of breath like the wax strip pulled it from his lungs, "Uh- darling, next time you want smooth legs, I'll shave you."

[vyorei]

Copied from the OG Tweet as it's too long to screenshot. Source is @Jonathan_K_Cook on Twitter:

The missing context for what's happening in Gaza is that Israel has been working night and day to ethnically cleanse the Palestinian people from their homeland since even before Israel become a state – when it was known as the Zionist movement.

Israel didn't just cleanse Palestinians in 1948, when it was founded as a Western colonial project, and again under cover of a regional war in 1967.

It also worked to ethnically cleanse Palestinians every day between those dates and afterwards. The aim was to move them off their historic lands, and either expel them beyond Israel’s new, expanded borders or concentrate them into small ghettoes inside those borders – as a holding measure until they could be expelled outside the borders.

The 'settler' project, as we call it, is a misnomer. It's really Israel's ethnic cleansing programme. Israel even has a special word for it in Hebrew: 'Judaisation', or making the land Jewish. It is official government policy.

Gaza was the largest of the Palestinian reservations created by Israel's ethnic cleansing programme, and the most overcrowded. To stop the inhabitants spilling out, Israel built a fence-barrier in the early 1990s to pen them in. Then when policing became too hard from within the prison, Israel pulled back in 2005 to the outer perimeter barrier.

New technology allowed Israel to besiege Gaza remotely by land, sea and air in 2007, limiting the entry of food and vital items like medicine and cement for construction. Automated gun towers shot anyone who came near the fence. The navy patrolled the sea, stopping boats straying more than a kilometre or two off shore. And drones watched 24 hours a day from the sky.

The people of Gaza were sealed in and largely forgotten, except when they lobbed a few rockets over the fence – to international indignation. If they fired too many rockets, Israel bombed them mercilessly and occasionally launched a ground invasion. The rocket threat was increasingly neutralised by a rocket interception system, paid for by the US, called Iron Dome.

Palestinians tried to be more inventive in finding ways to break out of their prison. They built tunnels. But Israel found ways to identify those that ran close to the fence and destroyed them.

Palestinians tried to get attention by protesting en masse at the fence. Israeli snipers were ordered to shoot them in the legs, leading to thousands of amputees. The 'deterrence' seemed to work.

Israel could once again sit back and let the Palestinians rot in Gaza. 'Quiet' had been restored.

Until, that is, last weekend when Hamas broke out briefly and ran amok, killing civilians and soldiers alike.

So Israel now needs a new policy.

It looks like the ethnic cleansing programme is being applied to Gaza anew. The half of the population in the enclave's north is being herded south, where there are not the resources to cope with them. And even if there were, Israel has cut off food, water and power to everyone in Gaza.

The enclave is quickly becoming a pressure cooker. The pressure is meant to build on Egypt to allow the Palestinians entry into Sinai on 'humanitarian' grounds.

Whatever the media are telling you, the 'conflict' – that is, Israel's cleansing programme – started long before Hamas appeared on the scene. In fact, Hamas emerged very late, as the predictable response to Israel's violent colonisation project.

Israel could once again sit back and let the Palestinians rot in Gaza. 'Quiet' had been restored.

Ignore the fake news. Israel isn't defending itself. It's enforcing its right to continue ethnically cleansing Palestinians.

[shiningsunlighthalation]

Red-Faced Beauty

Summary: Your beloved, one of the Fatui Harbingers, is a figure of grace and dominance. Those around her regard her with awe or terror, either response appropriate when interacting with someone who holds authority second only to the god of your nation. But surely, she isn't as unflappable as she appears. You can definitely catch her off guard and fluster her enough to make the heat rise to her cheeks, right? Right?

Signora may have been a proud and arrogant woman with a heart she had claimed had long frozen over, but she still had her moments of acting as the flustered maiden she used to be.

Often draped over her like a lovely shawl, you were never too far away from her side nor did it take too long for you to find her once she returned from an assignment.

And for as haughty as she was, Signora adored that about you, something she made clear whenever she would pepper your face with kisses and left lipstick marks on your face. She rather liked how flustered you would get whenever she showered you with affection.

But should you manage to fluster her, Signora's face would redden to a shade worthy of her real name.

And she's as "irate" as you expected her to be. For how dare you reduce The Fair Lady, La Signora of the Fatui Harbingers, to the state of a blushing ingenue?!

After you coo at this rare this display of embarrassment from your lover, you're practically "chased" away while Signora regains her composure.

After returning from a diplomatic venture, Signora had retreated to her quarters for some rarely acquired downtime. Setting her signature funerary mask down onto her vanity and selecting a tube of lipstick to apply as she sat down in front of the mirror.

As she touched up her makeup, she was not oblivious to the sound of her door opening or your footsteps approaching her. You typically arrived not long after she did, eager to spend time with her whenever possible.

Watching you through your reflection, Signora flashed you a smile, at least as much of a smile as she was able to form while trying to perfectly apply her lipstick. "You certainly didn't waste any time, did you? Not even a full ten minutes since I sat down and you've alrea—"

You didn't say a word as you walked up where Signora was seated and calmly took the lipstick tube out of her hands before setting it down on the vanity. Before Signora could ask you what you were doing, you took her face in your hands and greedily claiming her lips with your own. You smirked into the kiss when she made a muffled noise of surprise and pulled away, taking a second to marvel at her speechlessness before planting a kiss on her forehead and painting her brow with a smooch with the lipstick that had smeared onto your lips.

The Fair Lady's kiss abused lips parted and closed at your spontaneity as a crimson hue spread across her face.

You couldn't suppress your laughter. "That's a really lovely color on you!" You gently cupped Signora's face in your hands, even squishing her cheeks for emphasis, while slowly turning her face back to the vanity mirror.

Signora let out a scoff of indignation as she shook her face free from your hold. "Such...! Such nerve!" Her face ablaze, she refused to face you, instead summoning her floating white catalyst with a wave of her hand and sending a flurry of snow your way that caused you to flee her quarters while both laughing and squealing from the cold.

You really hoped to make The Knave lose her composure? How adorable.

She loved you dearly and by virtue of being her beloved, you saw her in ways most others would not, but not even you have been graced by the sight of Arlecchino's vulnerable side.

She was still a master in bringing out yours, however. Every gaze, touch, and hum of her voice practically carefully designed to have you purring for her.

And yet, the most you would be able to accomplish is bringing a lovely smile to her otherwise stoic face.

But you would not be deterred! Arlecchino may have been a collected woman, but she was not above feeling the burning heat of excitement that she often induces in her lover!

It didn't matter if you had never seen her blush before. Surely someone who had flames coursing through her body like blood would be capable of it!

...And if she was, you wouldn't be able to see. No matter what you did, Arlecchino would be able to turn the tables on you and leave you a blushing mess instead, confused but entertained by your antics.

It wasn't often that the Knave had spare time, but whenever it wasn't spent with you, she would spend it in the House of the Hearth with a book. With the older children away to complete missions and the younger children off playing, she now had some much needed time to relax. Though she enjoyed the company of her children, Arlecchino was grateful for the quiet she now had to enjoy reading with only the crackling hearth breaking the silence.

Eventually, the sound of the door opening further interrupted the quiet. Glancing at the entrance, she noticed a bouquet of rainbow roses coming through shortly before you did.

"Welcome back," she greeted, returning her gaze to her book while she spoke to you. "Would those be for me, perhaps?"

You merely giggled in response as you strode over to her, plopping down next to her on the couch. Putting the bouquet down in her lap, you grabbed her face, your fingers messily brushing through her hair as you did so, and planted kisses on both of her cheeks. "Of course they are! I hope you like them!"

You expected—or more accurately, you hoped—to finally see Arlecchino blush, hoping that your surprise gestures would have lowered her guard just a bit. You had hoped that the Knave would redden from your gestures, that she would be more willing to display such a "weakness" to you, her beloved, now that the two of you were alone.

But alas, things would never be so easy when dealing with the Fourth Harbinger.

Chuckling, Arlecchino set down her book, hooked an arm around your waist to bring you into her lap, and grasped your chin between her fingers to draw you into a kiss. Her blackened fingers had slipped under your shirt and traced a pattern in your skin before gripping your side. After she broke away, she took a single rainbow rose from the bouquet you had gifted her. "Feeling bold, are we? I wonder what I did to receive such affection today." She gently trailed the rose along your cheek before tucking it behind your ear. "I'm flattered, my dear."

She did it again. She had you right where she wanted you and left you too sheepish to speak again. You could only groan and bring a hand to your face in frustration over having failed once again.

But because you were too busy facepalming, you didn't notice that Arlecchino's ear, made visible after you had mussed up her hair earlier, was bright red.

The blush that you had been longing to see on her face had been on her ears the whole time.

Unfortunately, you wouldn't find out because Arlecchino was quick to her fix her hair to hide her little secret while she watched you bemoan your "failure".

To be honest, you weren't sure if Sandrone could blush. You weren't even sure if she could even blink.

So beautiful and doll-like, there were times when you'd wonder if she as an actual doll with her near perfect composure and eerie smile whenever something amused her.

As a reclusive woman who was greatly dedicated to her work, you and Sandrone being in a relationship was a feat in and of itself, so getting her to blush would be a miracle.

Even though, she would always thank you for them, gestures and displays of affection seemed to have no effect on her. It was often a smile or a nod to acknowledge you.

Sandrone would never understand why you'd seem so downtrodden after doing something nice for her or why you would inspect her face so intently, but surely a pat on the head would make you feel better?

You were careful to tiptoe around the scattered blueprints that littered the floor of the Seventh Harbinger's workshop. Even if she had tossed them aside, Sandrone would occasionally pick them back up if she could think of ways they could be worthwhile inventions.

With her ruin guard attendant, Meilleur-Seymour, standing dutifully by her side, Sandrone was seated at her desk, hunched over while drawing up a new blueprint. Her gaze was as unblinking as ever and her rhythm was completely unaffected by your presence.

"I have something for you!" Though her back was to you, you held up a cup of coffee. Being so engrossed in her research, Sandrone would often forget to eat or drink. And if she didn't forget, she would claim to not be hungry. But after seeing how that worried you, she would allow you to bring her little gifts while she worked so long as you didn't make a mess.

"Leave it here." She didn't even bother to turn around.

Rather than simply leave the coffee and be done with it, you made your way over to her and slowly removed the pencil she was using to draw her new blueprint from her hand. Most Fatui agents had never even seen Sandrone, but if they had, and they were bold enough to do what you just done, they would've lost their whole hand.

Thankfully, Sandrone would not do such a thing to her lover. Instead, she looked at you in stoic confusion, curious as to what you were doing. Her expression did not change when you leaned in for a kiss.

After pulling away, you smiled and put the coffee in her delicate hands. "You deserve to take a break, don't you think?" You stood there and watched, waiting for Marionette's face to become a lovely red color that would complement her doll-like features.

But Sandrone only smiled and said, "In a few minutes."

Frustrated, you gently cupped her face. Narrowing your eyes, you desperately searched for a rosy hue, not wanting your efforts to once again be in vain.

To Sandrone, your inspection came off as you being upset with her for taking too long to take a break. "In... one minute?"

With a sigh, you hung your head at yet another failed attempt.

Sandrone had no idea what was going on, but she could tell you were upset for some reason. She wanted to reach out and pat your head, but she was reluctant to put down the coffee you so kindly gifted her, so she looked to Meilleur-Seymour and jerked her head in your direction, silently ordering him to pat your head in her place.

[takiki16]

I see your "handcuffed together episode wouldn't work bc Neal would pick the locks" and I raise you "Neal refuses to pick the locks for petty reasons, aka Peter made him swear an oath to "not act like a criminal for 24 hours" and Neal is miffed at him about it"

YES. YES. THIS.

The episode opens with Peter and Neal walking to work, arguing about [Trust Issue] and [Crimes]. Peter says that it’s an indication of Neal’s lack of control, and that Neal can’t go 24 hours without Doing Crime. Neal roundly denies any alleged criminal behavior, but takes offense at the implication that crime is a Lower Impulse that drags him down rather than a Game of Skill. The argument goes on in typical fashion until finally, Peter and Neal make a bet. If Neal can go for 24 hours without doing Criminal Acts, Peter will…I DON’T KNOW! Go to a fancy art event with him? Let him see one of his old case files? Never bring deviled ham to a sedan stakeout again?

They then go undercover together to meet some kind of fence of Rare Items and Unusual Weapons - a lower level player, but a necessary step to that episode’s big bad. The fence has a Weird Storefront! They make a break for it through the back! There is a comical fight inside a very small closet full of Fun Kinky Novelty Items that somehow drags all three of them into it, and the fence gets away but Neal and Peter end up handcuffed together!

Peter demands that Neal pick the lock, after a solid hour of searching through the wreckage of Fun Kinky Novelty Items for the key - which of COURSE couldn’t just be a standard issue cuff set! This stopped being fun nyfor Neal after the first fifteen minutes of being yanked around through Fun Kinky Novelty Items, and he says with complete Righteous Indignation that he swore not to do crime! For 24 hours! Wasn’t Peter’s whole ISSUE that Neal is too immature and criminal to control his Crime Impulses?! This results in a solid hour of comedic arguing, after which one of them has the horrifying realization that they need to go to the bathroom.

After a truly awkward interval and a gentleman’s agreement never to speak of what just occurred again, Peter now has to decide what to do since lockpicking is off the table. The office is just a recipe for disaster, and Neal would get to see everything he did at his desk. Peter decides to go with the lesser of all evils and go home. El will laugh, but at least it would be more comfortable to wait out the 24 hours there.

El laughs until she cries. Somehow, so does Satchmo. Neal decides that the situation is funny again. Peter does not.

After an hour or two, the three of them have exhausted every possible talking avenue of (1) the handcuff situation and (2) the case without taking more concrete action. Peter is unwilling to do more than call agents over the phone, which only goes so far, and he flatly refuses to access an FBI laptop or a personal computer when Neal is right there collecting passwords. Peter tries to get El to be his proxy, at least as far as the personal computer, but by now Neal has told her about the wager and El says it wouldn’t be fair to give Peter a leg up. Peter is indignant, and tries to apply spousal privilege. This results in more comedic arguing.

By early afternoon, everyone except El (who could at any time leave but has called in sick for the express purpose of enjoying the situation) is stir crazy. Peter tries to break out of the handcuffs himself - first with tools (all loaned to Chad next door) and then by just pulling (which El and Neal both veto with prejudice). After the hammer Peter keeps in the junk drawer fails to have any effect (Neal dramatically flinches and whines about never playing the violin again), Peter gets desperate enough to try and pick the lock HIMSELF. For the joy of seeing this great thing, El and Neal agree that she can access their personal computer for YouTube tutorials, if any exist for these specific weird handcuffs. Neal has MANY, many comments about Peter Giving In to CRIMINAL IMPULSES, but after a vein starts twitching in Peter’s forehead El rules that Neal has to limit his heckling if she’s going to continue providing YouTube tutorials. Fun comedic interlude once again, as Peter tries and fails to pick the handcuffs.

It is now early evening, and dinner time. Thankfully Neal is ambidextrous, so eating isn’t an issue, but the questions of Shower and Bed are now looming in everyone’s mind. There is less comedy now, bc it’s been a long day and also because Neal genuinely respects Peter and Elizabeth’s marriage. Coming into their bed when he isn’t wanted touches on a lot of tender issues for him. Peter wearily says he and Neal will take the guest room, but rounds off with a snarky comment about how Mister Criminal over here isn’t willing to get over himself. Neal snaps - does Peter understand what ACTUALLY bothered Neal so much about the first argument, the reason behind the bet? Or has the whole day been lost on him? There follows a conversation in which El insists that everyone listen to each other, Peter does some introspecting on condescending comments to Neal, and Neal acknowledges that he can be impulsive and Take The Bit too far. Satisfactory emotional arc work is done, and Neal agrees to pick the cuffs.

It’s dark now, and the light in the Burke’s home at night is always warm. Neal is picking the lock, brow furrowed in concentration, and Peter asks him what about the bet. Isn’t Neal giving up his great favor? Freedom from deviled ham? A trip to the museum, outside his radius? Access to a fond memory?

Neal looks at Peter, and looks at El, sitting beside them in the warm light, and he says he will call the bet off if he gets a kiss right now.

From which one of us, says Peter, barely breathing.

Either one. Both. Just once. It doesn’t have to mean anything. Except it does. It does, it does, it does.

Neal gets one kiss from each of them, on the lips. First kisses, tender and slow and sweet, and when it’s done they all three sit together in the warm night, looking at each other as the beginning of a new thing thrums between them.

The lock clicks open loudly, and the moment is broken but the new thing is not. Peter inhales sharply and leans backwards, Neal stays frozen in place with the skill of long practice, but Elizabeth doesn’t flinch. What breaks the moment is Peter clearing his throat and asking in a shaking voice what was the sound that lock just made. Neal takes a quick breath and says oh, it’s a sound that such and such type locks make, they’re really unusual actually, only a certain kind of company from Such and Such makes them. This makes the episode plot penny drop in Peter’s head, because of course company from Such and Such has an obscure tie to So and So, which is the key to finding their lost fence and bringing down the villain of the week.

When it’s all over, Neal turns up at the Burkes’ house again, a hesitant look on his face. In his hands are the handcuffs, still open. And of course, they invite him in.

[sparklingcid3r]

The words were out, hanging in dead space between them. So cruel and violent. Pony wished he could take them back, but no retraction would ever repair the damage he’d caused.

Something in Darry must have died that night. Or maybe Ponyboy had finally killed what little was left of him, and snuffed out any chance he had of getting his relationship with his big brother back.

In which words sometimes speak much, much louder than actions.

-

Pony always thought that Darry would be the one to cross the line first. Pony knew how to put a cork over his fury; tasting copper was better than a verbal beatdown. Biting his tongue was one of the few things Pony was better at than his brother.

But he really ought to have known, with his nose constantly shoved in a book and all that. With enough pressure, every dam will break.

Darry’s eyes glittered like ice as he stood from the recliner, his arms folded. Soda was there, too, though he stayed curled up on the couch, letting Darry play bad guy.

“Where the hell have you been, Ponyboy? Curfew was two hours ago.”

Pony was tired. He wasn’t in the mood, so he kept his gaze low. “You guys didn’t have to wait up. I was fine.”

“How are we supposed to know that? You didn’t tell us about your plans after school, you didn’t call, nothing. When you don’t show up, what are we supposed to think?”

He shrugged. “I don’t gotta share everything with you.”

Darry thought that was a hoot. Pony could tell by the mean scowl on his face as he said it.

“So long as you keep your nose outta trouble, you know I don’t care what you do.” That was true. After the accident, Darry could have been a lot worse. By all means, he should have been. A lot had changed in their family, he supposed, and Darry was trying out a few new tactics.

He ran roughshod over Pony’s retort before he could make it. “You didn’t even think to tell me you’d be out late, so here we are, making sure our kid brother ain’t been left for dead somewhere, worrying our asses off, just for you to walk in, right as rain.”

Somewhere along the way, Soda ceased to exist in their world. He couldn’t have said when.

“Glory, Darry, are you happy to see me or not?” Pony snapped. “Make up your damn mind!”

“Happy?” Darry scoffed. “Yeah, I sure am happy you think the rules we have in this house, under my roof, don’t apply to you.”

“I ain’t saying that—“

“Then what are you sayin’? ‘Cause all I been hearin’ is a load of bull.”

Darry was getting real mad. He liked keeping his southern twang on the down low—Pony figured it had something to do with his bitterness over not getting the hell out of Tulsa—but it flared up when he got all riled.

Pony knew he should throw in the towel and just start appeasing, but the tiniest spark of indignation lit a whole fuse in his chest, and suddenly he was hollering right back.

“I don’t gotta tell you anything, you said so yourself! I wasn’t doing nothing wrong, so what if I show up an hour or two late? I’m here, aren’t I?” And it felt real good seeing, even for a second, the startle in Darry’s face, that his pathetic little brother could spit fire right back. “All you do is holler my ears off, day and night. Lay off already!”

Darry recovered so quick that if Pony had blinked, he’d have missed that sweet moment altogether. “You better watch that tone, Ponyboy, or so help me God.”

“Naw, you don’t go pulling this with Soda. Why does he get to do hell all without no permission?”

“Because Sodapop’s pulling his damn weight around here, helping me pay our bills and for our groceries. And this is how you repay us, by sneaking around past curfew and letting me think some Socs got their hands on you.”

Pony never wanted to do to Darry what he thought the Socs would do more than in that moment. He wanted to wrap his knuckles and sock his brother in the mouth, see how he liked it being someone else’s punching bag. Using Soda like that was a low blow.

Of course, he was about as capable of hurting Darry as a fly was against a bear, but his chest is too hot and tight to consider retreating now.

“If money’s all you care about, I’ll drop outta school and get a job. How’s that sound?”

“Don’t you go even entertainin’ that thought.”

“Then don’t you go dragging Soda into this!”

“Why shouldn’t I? You’re killin’ us, Ponyboy! That’s all you been tryna do lately, send us both to an early grave!”

“You wanna talk about graves? Mom and Dad are gone and all you’ve been doing is tryna replace them, but you ain’t even good at pretending to know what you’re doing!”

Shame was already boiling in the pits of his stomach, but his anger blinded him. The best he could do was turn his back and flee.

Darry caught Pony by his bicep. His grip was tight, and Pony’s first thought was that he was about to be tossed into the couch. “Don’t you dare pull that shit on me, Ponyboy Michael, using them against me—“

Pony wrenched his arm free and whirled on his heels, smacking Darry’s hand with a snarl carved out of his face. He pointed an accusing finger and let his fury loose in the worst way he could think of:

“I wish you had died instead!”

Time froze. His hand wasn’t quick enough to cage the monstrous words back into his mouth. They were acidic and would have burned on the way back down, but he would have preferred it.

Even Soda, watching from a distance, was stunned into abject silence, his lips parted and his chest heaving up and down, yet he made no sounds.

That was all it took. Not a clenched fist adorned with sharp rings or a heater packing back to back rounds. Six words laced with vitriol from the mouth of his kid brother, and Darrel Curtis buckled.

What did Pony say next? Should he speak at all? He peered through Darry’s glassy eyes and saw the fresh devastation they harbored within. Where he saw it most, though, was where it did not show itself at all. Darry’s hands were loose at his sides, unfurled and calm. He was perfectly still, not even harsh pocketfuls of air shaking his shoulders as they so typically did. Save for his shuttering expression—a coldness steadily fought for the place of raw hurt—Darry was just a body stood upright.

“Darry, I…” Ponyboy‘s rasp was wet and quivering. He felt the heat of shame and tears on his face, burning his ears and behind his eyes. The words shriveled up when they reached the cusp of his tightening throat.

Sodapop tried to intervene. His hand went up as if to brush Darry’s arm, but he thought better and settled on hovering just above.

“Hey, Dar—“

“Go,” said Darry, strained. “You have school tomorrow. Go to bed, Ponyboy.”

Pony nodded immediately, but Darry was the first to retreat. He pulled away from Soda. Pony staggered back to let him through, and he was spared no glance in the aftermath, not that he deserved it. He didn’t deserve any of what Darry had spent the past two months giving him, or anything that came after.

It was only a matter of time before Darry hated him for it, and he was pretty sure he just set that process on a fast track to fruition.

[the-travelling-bitch]

𝐈 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋

summary: you’ve not seen your boyfriend in a while, so when you call his name he’s ready to please 

pairing: xiao x fem! reader (no pronouns used)

warnings: very soft, some good ol’ love making, f! masturbation, fingering (f! receiving), oral (f! receiving), mating press, unprotected sex (stay safe everyone!), marking if you squint

The bed felt cold as you tried to get comfortable underneath the covers. But without the familiar weight of two strong arms wrapping around your waist, you just kept tossing and turning.

When was the last time you could spend some quality time with your boyfriend, let alone could get lost in each other’s touch? With the Lantern Rite upon you, more and more evil spirits found their way onto the mortal plane and Xiao was out hunting them down near constantly. You understood, of course. Liyue’s safety was the top priority and you’d never fault him for doing his Morax- sworn duty…

But you were needy, so incredibly needy.

It started when you came home from your commissions, exhausted and in dire need of a bath. Somewhere in the back of your mind, the tiny hope that Xiao would be there to greet you had taken root. Instead of the adeptus, you were merely met with silence and an empty house.

With a sigh, you drew yourself a bath and rooted through your closet for some comfortable clothes. Pretty quickly your fingers closed around familiar fabric and a tug later you held one of Xiao’s shirts in your hands… He’d forgive you, you decided. You needed the comfort of his scent around you now.

After soaking in the warm water until your fingers turned slightly pruney and drying yourself off, you slipped his shirt on and melted into the soft material. You decided to call it a day and got ready for bed without any rush. When you slid under the covers, there was still no trace of Xiao, so with a sigh you closed your eyes.

Just for sleep not to find you. In the pale moonlight of your bedroom, your thoughts kept drifting to your boyfriend and although it started very innocently, they soon spiralled into territory that would’ve made the elders in town gasp in indignance. And before you even considered stopping yourself, your hands started to wander.

You barely applied any pressure with your fingertips, your touch merely a whisper as Xiao appeared before your mind’s eye. The way he’d trace the sensitive areas of your body, worshipping you as if you were the most delicate flower and paying attention to how you reacted to his every action.

He’d lean down to whisper in your ear, his breath fanning your cheek as he told you to relax, leave it all to him, let him take care of you. Slightly dipping your fingers into the waistband of your pants, you slid them back up your stomach, the cold sensation of your fingers making goosebumps rise in their wake and pulling the hem of Xiao’s shirt up a few centimetres.

As you pinched one of your hardening nipples and gave it a light tug to feebly imitate the way he’d close his lips around it, lightly gracing his sharp teeth along your flesh, you could almost see his amber eyes gazing down at you, drinking in the sight in front of him. The mere fantasy of him so close to you again had your thighs rubbing together in search of some friction. You shuddered at the memory of him kissing down the valley of your breasts, mapping the planes of your abdomen with his lips even if he already knew every curve of your body.

At this point, you couldn’t tease yourself any further. It had been too long since you felt the pleasure of his attention and you were craving to release some of this tension. Unceremoniously, you stripped out of your pants and settled on top of the sheets before dragging your fingertips up the inside of your thighs.

There was already a wet patch forming on your panties as you teased your fingers over your slit. Xiao’s absence had made you so sensitive, the featherlight touch was enough to have your legs twitching, a little bit of pressure against your neglected clit enough to have you gasping for air. 

Impatiently, you slid the obstructing material down your legs, feeling your slick connect to the seat of the panties before snapping against your skin as the garment was left to hang from one of your ankles. 

Collecting some of your arousal with your middle finger, you ran it through your folds before pushing past the muscles of your entrance. For the first initial moments it felt good as you slowly worked the digit in and out of you but it quickly turned out to be not nearly enough to stimulate you.

Perhaps Xiao’s attentive care had spoiled you rotten and ruined you for everyone else, even yourself, but sooner rather than later you added a second finger. Finally, you felt yourself stretch just a little as more slick coated the palm of your hand but you still couldn't reach quite as far as your boyfriend’s skilled fingers could; not to mention, how heavenly the strokes of his dick felt against your velvety walls.

The effort of trying to bring yourself to the edge of pleasure had you panting just a bit but it became pretty clear you needed more stimulation than just your digits pumping rhythmically in and out of you. So, as your free hand found its way back under your shirt to massage the fat of your tit, your thumb clumsily rubbed little circles over your clit. While it wasn’t quite the same, it still had one or the other moan spill from your lips as you felt a familiar coil tighten in your stomach. 

Under your passionate touches, your spine slightly arched off the mattress as you clenched your eyes shut, picturing before you sweat-slicked teal bangs and sharply bright eyes. In anticipation of teeth gracing your pulse point and lips wrapping around the sensitive area below your throat, you craned your neck and threw your head back to give your imaginary partner easy access to do as he pleased. Before it registered in your mind, a single breathy syllable passed your lips and lingered in the air and…

“Xiao~”

The effect was instantaneous. Your general state of pleasure made you unaware of the black and green smoke at the end of your bed, the cutting glare scanning the room for enemies before widening at the sight in front of him.

In a motion very unlike him, the jade spear slipped from his grasp and clattered obnoxiously on the floor, alerting you to the presence of someone else there with you. Desperately, your mind tried to catch up to what was happening but before you could fully blink into consciousness, a familiar weight had already straddled your waist and a gloved hand cradled your neck to lead you into a searing kiss.

Under normal circumstances, Xiao wouldn’t have been so rash but really, the prolonged withdrawal from you also took a toll on him. And then, to be suddenly presented with the most sinful view of all, his patience ran thin. From his vantage point, he could see the shaking of your thighs, the curve of your chest and, most importantly of all, your fingers desperately working that glistening pussy of yours. All of this, as he now noted, while dressed merely in his shirt, staking his involuntary but not unwelcome claim over you.

“Xiao?” You broke away from his kiss to allow your lungs some air. “What are you doing here? I thought you were-”

“You called me,” he merely stated. “And now I’m here to please you.”

“You really don’t have to,” you said, yet still linked your hands behind his head and pulled him down to bridge the gap between you again.

“But I want to,” he whispered against the corner of your mouth, his thighs meeting the back of yours as he leaned over you. “Being away from you for so long was hard on me too.”

Gently but deliberately, Xiao caught the wrist of your hand that was fingering your core and brought it up to his mouth as he sat back on his haunches before wrapping his lips around your coated fingers. Whilst his tongue swirled around your digits, you could feel his sharp teeth graze your skin, teasing you by pretending to bite down. You knew he would never hurt you but feeling their sharp edges press into the pads of your fingers as he sucked the last of your arousal off of them made adrenaline course through your veins and the hairs in the back of your neck rise.

“I almost forgot how good you taste,” he groaned, golden eyes fluttering closed. Then, the yaksha’s weight lifted off of you as you felt the mattress dip under the shift of his weight. Your breath got caught in your throat as he guided your legs to rest on his shoulders, slipping your panties off your ankle and curling his arms around your thighs to keep you open for him. Xiao closely studied how your soaked pussy clenched under his gaze and in one swift motion, he pulled his gloves off with his teeth and discarded them. Lightly tracing through your folds, he mumbled more so for himself, “So pretty…”

“Xiao,” you moaned, thighs twitching in his hold as he blew a puff of air against your core. “Please touch me, I really need you.”

There was no need to tell him twice. With fervour, he licked a fat stripe up your pussy, his tongue flicking deliciously against your clit before diving straight into your fluttering hole. Despite the long absence, Xiao still knew your body like the back of his hand. In no time, your body was twisting on the bed as whines and whimpers spilled freely into the night’s air, spurring him on to tighten his grip on you. 

Normally, he’d shush you softly, reprimanding you to keep still so he could continue pleasing you. But today he just let you writhe under the assault of his tongue as he watched the euphoria cross your face. The vibration of his groans as you pulled him closer by his teal locks felt heavenly, the sensitivity from your lost orgasm still drumming through your veins.

The attention of his mouth shifted to your clit, wrapping his lips around the little nub and gently sucking on it as his fingers replaced his tongue. You could see the muscles in his arms flex with every movement against you and it sent more heat straight to your core. In an act of desperate selfishness, your heels pressed into his shoulder blades as your toes curled to ride out your approaching high on his scissoring digits. The sound of you chanting his name over and over as your pussy clenched down on him had his hips involuntarily rutting against the mattress to alleviate some of his need.

“Xiao, I’m so close,” you whined. “Please keep going.”

Curling his fingers forward into the spongy spot which made you see stars, he coaxed your orgasm out of you, greedily drinking up all your juices and not letting a single drop go to waste while you twisted your hands tighter into his hair.

Through the fog of pleasure you vaguely realised Xiao lifting himself off of you but before you could calm your breathing, he had already resumed sitting between your legs. With the ghost of a trace, his knuckles ran over your temple, pushing matted hair out of eyes. You repaid his gesture in kind, raking your nails over his scalp as he pressed caring kisses against your still racing pulsepoint, leaving faint hues of purples and reds to decorate the canvas that was your neck and shoulder.

“How are you feeling, love?” He whispered, deft hands massaging the flesh of your thighs which were caging in his slim waist. “Do you wish to continue?”

Bucking your hips up into his, earning groans from both of you, you chuckled breathlessly. “Xiao, I swear to the Archons, if you don’t fill me up…”

“I recall a certain human saying,” he mirrored your playful grin, “warning mortals to be careful what they wish for.”

Any form of witty remark died in your mouth as his fingers dug back into the flesh of your thighs as his warm length dragged through your folds, coating himself in your slick and his precum. The sensation of his cockhead catching your clit on every upward motion had you choking back whimpers as the knot in your stomach started tightening again.

As much as Xiao was awed by the sight of tears of pleasure watering your lash line, his patience was wearing incredibly thin and the need to be buried in you was becoming increasingly hard to ignore. 

“Are you ready, dear?”

“Yes, Xiao,” your need evident in those eyes he could lose himself in, “please make us feel good.” 

Lifting one hand off your leg, he aligned himself with your entrance before slowly pushing in. Even after all this time, Xiao still stretched you so well; just the mushroom tip had you gripping the sheets like a lifeline. Yet, you still encouraged your partner to keep going deeper until, eventually, he was buried balls deep inside.

After giving you some much needed time to adjust to his cock resting inside of your walls, Xiao started pulling out a little and thrusting back in without any rush, setting a slow but deep pace which had you feeling every vein decorating his shaft. The more your sweet noises increased in volume, the more strength he put into the movements of his hips, knocking the wind out of your lungs.

In one fluid motion, your legs were hoisted back over his shoulder as the adeptus leaned more of his weight on you and pressed your thighs towards your chest with his body alone. With his hands now free, Xiao could reach around your intertwined bodies to pin your wrists down against the sheets, which were now freed of the deathgrip you had on them. 

Somehow, this position always made him reach so much deeper than before, your cunt spasming around his dick when his pelvis ground against your clit. In combination with how effortlessly he seemed to hit all your sensitive spots, it had your back arching into his touch and your eyes rolling to the back of your head. And, as if to seal your fate completely, Xiao dove down to lock your lips and steal all remaining air from your lungs. 

“You’re taking me so well,” he praised, finally slightly out of breath as well, as he smeared a messy kiss against your forehead. “I missed you so much.”

“Missed you too,” you sobbed into his shoulder as another wave of pleasure licked up your spine and set your veins ablaze. “I’m… not gonna last…”

“Neither,” he panted, “I’m almost there, love.”

Bringing one of your linked hands up, he pressed a quick peck onto your knuckles before letting go and letting his fingers drift back to your sweat-slicked chest, pushing his shirt up to expose your breasts to the night’s air. Rolling one nipple between his thumb and index finger, he engulfed the other in the warmth of his mouth and lavished it in the attention of his tongue. 

Meanwhile, your free hand was slung over his back to keep him close. On a particularly well angled thrust, however, you dug your fingernails into his skin, no doubt leaving some nasty half moons to decorate his shoulder blade. The low grunt against your tit and the twitch of his cock against your insides had your core tightening, clamping down on him like a vice. You were sure there was no need in telling him, no doubt he was already well aware, and still…

“I’m close, Xiao,” bounced off the walls, flowing into the symphony of lewd noises filming the room as your lover readjusted his grip on your trembling thighs.

“That’s it, let go,” he breathed quietly, yet you still heard him so clearly. “Cum for me, love.”

With his encouragement you fell off the edge, lightning shooting through your limbs and stars dancing before your eyes. Chasing his own high and fucking you through yours, Xiao straightened up and held your legs down with his hands again, watching your marked up breasts bounce with each thrust whilst the rhythmic pulse of your walls encouraged him to spill deep inside of you.

And that was just what he did.

Comfortingly familiar warmth flooded your insides as your partner sloppily rode out his orgasm before slumping forward into your embrace. Your hand stroked calmingly along the length of his spine as you felt his cock softening inside of you with a last few twitches.

“I love you,” you mumbled sleepily, stifling a yawn against his shoulder. Now, with your energy spent and your beloved’s arms holding you, it was getting harder and harder to fight off the tempting pull of sleep.

Careful not to disturb you too much, Xiao slowly pulled out and watched his cum drip from your hole. On other nights, the sight might have made him pounce on you again but this time, he simply wanted to lie next to you as you fell asleep in his embrace. Giving each knee a sweet kiss, he set them down and stretched them out gently before sliding next to you and pulling the covers over you. He’d clean you up later, he promised as he guided your head to rest against his chest. For the time being, Xiao just wanted to hold you close.

“I love you, too.” And with that, he sent you off into the sweetest of dreams.

if you want to be added to my tag list, send in an ask ♡

[just-a-creep-babe]

53 and 65 for some posessive HABIT action, if you're still doing the prompt thing?

Will I ever get sick of writing nasty smut for Habit? Mmmmh no, I don’t think so 😌🫶

Requests are closed but commissions are open!

Masterlist: x

53. “You can hate me all you want, but you can’t deny how good I make you feel.”

65. “I’m going to fuck them out of you. I’m going to make you scream my name so hard that you’ll never think of them again.”

He has you in a mating press, your thighs pressing against your chest, your body folded in half with your legs up over his broad shoulders

Both his hands are around your throat, his fingers tight around your neck, granting you just the right amount of airflow so that you don’t pass out on him

And despite everything, despite how overwhelmingly good he feels, you’re still pissed at him

“F-fuck you—“

It’s pathetic, the way you gasp the words out

You’re clawing at his hands, writhing and squirming beneath him, but you can’t escape the bruising way he keeps driving himself into your sopping-wet cunt

You shouldn’t give in to him—you can’t—for your own sake

“You still upset, rabbit?” he grunts, and as he says it, a wide, sharp grin spreads to his lips, “You can hate me all you want, but you can’t deny how good I make you feel”

It’s like he angles his hips on purpose to hit a spot that almost has you screaming

Your back arches, vision going white, mouth parting in a borderline obscene cry

“Yeah, that’s right~” he encourages, “look at that. Look at how fucking good you take my cock”

He emphasizes his words with brutal thrusts, his pace hard and shameless and entirely unrelenting

Your cunt squelches noisily around him, wanting more, wanting to feel the thick head of his cock pulse deep inside your fluttering walls until he releases the entirety of his load into you

Some indignant slew of curses get caught in your throat, escaping only as a few choked moans when he applies more pressure to your vocal cords

“Don’t worry, rabbit. You’ll forgive me soon enough—“

He interrupts himself with a grunt as you tighten around him

You’re practically gushing around his cock—oh so unbearably close to an orgasm but trying desperately to resist it

You won’t give him the satisfaction

You won’t cum around him after everything he’s done, after all the horrors he’s committed in the name of his obsession for you

“I’m going to fuck them out of you” he snarls, “I’m going to make you scream my name so hard that you’ll never think of them again”

He jams his cock so hard into you that it nudges against your cervix

You want to scream—it’s too much, he feels too good—but all you can manage is a pathetic little submissive whimper

“That’s right—take my cock, rabbit. Take every. Fucking. Inch of it”

His voice splits, demonic nature permeating through, and you think surely he’s getting close as well

Surely he can’t keep this up for much longer

One hand leaves your throat, and you gasp, trying to swallow in the air that’d been withheld from you, but he applies more pressure with his other hand, and all you can do is lay there and take it

You’re trapped beneath him, forced to let him use your drenched little cunt as hard as he pleases

You don’t want it, don’t want to cum around him, but he feels so fucking good; whatever meager willpower you have left is crumbling apart

“Once I cum inside you,” he grunts, “I’m going to mark you—head to fucking toe—and everyone’s gonna know who you fucking belong to”

Your toes curl, tears springing to your eyes

Every ruthless pump has his tip kissing your cervix

Waves of ecstasy crash into your system, tensing your muscles until you’re squeezing his cock so tightly it’s all you can feel

He’s all you can focus on

With his free hand, his fingers dig into the flesh of your cheeks to force your lips open

And just as everything’s becoming too much, just as your vision’s blurring and your thighs start shaking, he spits a thick glob of saliva into your mouth

It’s humiliating—the way you cum for him despite your best efforts not to

You’re helpless to resist him as even through your orgasm, he doesn’t once relent his brutal onslaught

He spits into your mouth one last filthy time, then takes both of your wrists in that one free hand and pins your arms above your head

“F-fuck—fuck! H-Habit—fuck!!”

You want to tell him to stop, tell him to at least give you a break, but he’s impossibly persistent

You're practically gushing with arousal—you can feel it making a mess between your thighs

You’re too drunk off his dick to know for sure, but there’s almost no way you produced that much slick without squirting

You whine his name, over and over again as he imprints the shape of his cock into your convulsing walls

“Good little bunny—good—fuck—good little rabbit. My little rabbit. My slutty fucking bunny”

His filthy nothings grow increasingly possessive as his cock keeps tensing and twitching inside you

“Habit, I’m—‘m yours!”

Your cry has a snarl rippling through his chest

He buries his face into your neck, and then your body’s thrashing as his teeth sink into skin

He keeps you nice and pinned beneath him as he rides out his orgasm in eagerly satisfied thrusts

And even once he’s released everything into your cervix, once you feel utterly stuffed with his seed, he doesn’t pull out

Instead, he keeps nipping at your neck, alternating between licks, bites and kisses

“That’s right, good bunny~” he hums the words out, and even then, his praises have your sex fluttering weakly around him

“Let’s get you all nice and marked so you don’t forget who you belong to~”

[shibaraki]

GOLDEN HOUR ┊ MIYA ATSUMU

tags: GN reader, childhood friends to lovers pipeline lol, just plain old fluff, heavy pining atsumu, reader is bleaching his hair, mildly suggestive

wc: 1K

“God, ‘Tsumu! Would you sit still?”

Dappled sunlight trickles onto the cream coloured work surface from between the tended plants sitting along the windowsill. The homeliness reminds him of Osamu’s own kitchen, treated as the true heart of the house. While quaint, your kitchen appears bigger than it is. Atsumu could stretch his legs from where he’s sitting and reach the fridge door, but he doesn’t feel crowded. The pressure from your fingers in his hair lulls him into a soft sense of contentment only to be disrupted by a sudden pinch. Nose wrinkling in his distaste, Atsumu suffers the irritating bleach odour permeating the space.

Being off-season always led to him coming home at some point or another—and ultimately, back to you.

Your first words upon seeing him after four months had been “Holy shit, look at your roots”.

Not exactly the emotional reunion he envisioned. Though the two of you soon devolved into your usual playful bickering as he yanked your hood over your head and pulled you into a long, tight hug.

Even now Atsumu barely flinches at your complaints, because you always do a terrible job keeping the laughter out of your voice. “Yer so rough,” he whines. “Be nicer to me. Thought I was ya best friend”.

“Such a baby” you tease, circling around him to reach for another hair clip, offering a full view of your attire. With the air so pleasantly warm you opted to wear some old shorts and a tank top. His eyes are instinctively drawn to your bare legs, detailing every dimple and curve down to the fluffy socks on your feet.

The dull end of your brush pokes at his skull. Atsumu’s gaze snaps to your face. “You back with me?” you say, a knowing smile crossing your lips. Heat prickled from his cheeks to his ears. “Since when is your scalp so sensitive?”

Atsumu clears his throat and you nudge a foot between his ankles to stand between his legs. He gives an indignant huff, “Since always!”

“Liar,” you curl a gloved finger around a front section of hair and tug. The sensation zips through him. He shudders and inhales sharply, enough that it gives you pause. Confined to a folding chair with an old, worn towel wrapped around his shoulders, he closes his eyes and hopes the Gods will be generous enough to have the ground swallow him up—

“Bet it was all that forty volume developer you used in highschool. I still can’t believe you”.

—It comes wrapped in your voice, supple and fond. Your movements resume without ceremony. Bristles paint bleach onto the dark roots of his hair, cold and thick. “How was I supposed’ta know not to use it?” Atsumu starts, taking your show of mercy in both hands. “The box said to mix in developer so a’ did”.

“And spent three years with a brass head ‘til I fixed it,” you muse, parsing out another section. You’re one slip away from sitting in his lap. The thought is sweltering. Your tank top rides up, flashing a swath of skin, and he can feel the blush crawling down his neck. “What would you do without me?”

Atsumu snorts as though he has not already agonised over the thought. Sleepless nights spent replaying the moment he realised that he was in love with you, under the shadow of a ginkgo tree on an early September morning while you fixed his school tie. He recalls the grain of rice still stuck to your cheek, and how your tongue peeked from between your lips in concentration—much like it is now.

You continue to apply the last of the bleach onto the roots at his crown. The clips suddenly feel tighter than they used to. He swallows against the dry in his throat. “Yeah, well. Doesn’t bear thinkin’ about,” he tells you, perhaps a little too solemnly.

There is some solace in not seeing your face as he says it. But the silence aches. You drop the brush into the mixing bowl and step back, leaving the clutch of his thighs. The air retains your heat for a few precious seconds. He hears the snap of your gloves as you pull them off. What he isn’t expecting is the palms that then cradle his cheeks.

You tilt his head, forcing him to look back, and when he does you’re frowning. Not in anger or concern. It is childishness. Atsumu gives a disgruntled noise when you push his cheeks together and force his mouth into an ugly pout.

“Oi—!”

“I’m not sure I like how you said that,” you interrupt, gaze flitting back and forth over his features intently. “I don’t know what’s happening in that brain of yours but I’m not going anywhere. We’re stuck with each other, okay?”

Atsumu blinks. His face is starting to hurt. The words hit him all at once and his heart leaps, pounding hard against his chest. Not for the first time, he has to remind himself that it’s easier to stay as you are—and the warning falls flat, drowned out by the blood rushing in his ears. When did doing the easy thing get so hard?

“M’kay,” he wheezes. You release him and smile sheepishly as he massages his jaw, eyes narrowed in a petulant glare. His feigned annoyance is quickly betrayed by the smirk pulling at his lips. “Promise you’ll do ma roots even when they’re grey?”

“I don’t know. I think you’d make a pretty good silver fox,” there’s a soft sort of intent in your eyes. Something shifts, faintly, a change that is almost palpable. “But yes,” you hold out your pinky, and Atsumu hooks your fingers together.

“I promise”.

[gatheringbones]

[“When I first came out as a lesbian in 1971, identity politics were so pervasive that this modality didn’t even have a name; it was simply the sea in which every queer sank or swam. One of the key assumptions of identity politics is that we can reveal in one grand social drama of coming out the absolute inner core of truth that makes up one’s “real self.” Coming out is seen as a process like peeling away the layers of an onion or the petals of an artichoke. Identity politics also assumes that your political allies will have to be people who share your identity because nobody else could understand your oppression or really be committed to fighting it; that people who share some aspects of your sexuality but not others are either afraid to come out or traitors to the cause; that it’s not possible for someone to change the way they label themselves without being dishonest or cowardly.

Now I see queer politics quite differently. I know from personal experience that I can’t trust somebody just because their sexual preferences or their gender identity resembles my own. I know we can make allies who are indignant about injustice even if it does not impinge directly upon their own lives. I see coming out as a lifelong process that proceeds as I become ready to understand and accept aspects of myself which bear lessons I need to learn at different points in my life. Each new coming out does not recreate me as a whole new person; I think some people view it this way, but this is crazy-making and too compartmentalized for me. It’s more like being able to see each and every spoke of the wheel that makes up my being, or like opening up and furnishing another new room of my soul.

I wonder what coming out would be like if we were not forced into these defensive positions of tribal loyalty and us-them thinking. What if we could say to a friend who was embarking on a new coming out, “I love you, and so I must also love this new aspect of yourself. Because I care about you I want to know more about it. Let’s both learn from this.” Instead, what usually happens is a great deal of indignation, betrayal, and rejection. I think this is because a person who is coming out threatens the identities of former acquaintances, partners, and coworkers. If someone else’s identity can be fluid or change radically, it threatens the boundaries around our own sense of self. And if someone can flout group norms enough to apply for membership in another group, we often feel so devalued that we hurry to excommunicate that person. This speaks to our own discomfort with the group rules. The message is: I have put up with this crap for the sake of group membership, and if you won’t continue to do the same thing, you have to be punished.

We seem to have forgotten that the coming-out process is brought into being by stigma. Without sexual oppression, coming out would be an entirely different process. In its present form, coming out is reactive. While it is brave and good to say “No” to the Judeo-Christian “Thou Shalt Nots,” we have allowed our imaginations to be drawn and quartered by puritans. I believe that most of the divisions between human sexual preferences and gender identities are artificial. We will never know how diverse or complex our needs in these realms might be until we are free of the threat of the thrown rock, prison cell, lost job, name-calling, shunning, and forced psychiatric “treatment.”

I do not think human beings were meant to live in hostile, fragmented enemy camps, forever divided by suspicion and prejudice. If coming out has not taught us enough compassion to see past these divisions, and at least catch a vague glimpse of a more unified world, what is the use of coming out at all? I have told this story, not to say that anybody else should follow me or imitate me, but to encourage everyone to keep an open mind and an open heart when change occurs. The person who needs tolerance and compassion during a major transformation may be your best friend, your lover, or your very self. Bright blessings to you on the difficult and amazing path of life.”]

patrick califa, from layers of the onion, spokes of the wheel, from a woman like that: lesbian and bisexual writers tell their coming out stories, 2000

[dollible]

Tax Dollector

The scarred, towering hulk of a man bristles and drops his boulder-sized fist on the table. Wood creaks, splinters; tea cups jump in the air and spill some of their contents.

“This is fucking ridiculous!” He shouts, spraying spit, indignant; his face contorted in rage.

The little figure across from the table does not flinch. With refined poise, it raises the teacup to its perfect pale lips. Looks down, takes a little sip.

“I assure you, my preliminary calculations are very conservative.”

It looks up to the barrel of a shotgun. The hulk of a man is sneering. “I think I’m gonna plead the second, you porcelain b-” His upper torso explodes in a shower of gore, painting the wall behind him a messy dark red.

The doll snaps its wrist back in place, tests its fingers. Shame about the property price. Back in its little car resembling a beetle more than a vehicle, it opens the teletype.

]UNCOOPERATIVE 1 DEAD NEED CLEANUP RFT

The operator on the other side gives it a new address in seconds; the doll starts the engine, and the printer begins spitting out rows of transactions.

The address points it to an ancient castle outside the town. It stops its coughing vehicle in the driveway the size of a park, collects the papers in its pastel ruffled tote bag, and walks up the well-maintained stairs to the gigantic cathedral-sized doors.

No soul in sight. It double-checks the printouts, squinting a little. Hoard levy?.. That’s… an ancient and rarely applied form of a savings account interest tax? Curious.

It knocks.

Nobody answers for minutes.

Just as the doll chambers a breaching round in its wrist, the doors swing open. Its quick, tiny steps reverberate in the monumental empty space of the unlit gothic hall.

It stops in the middle, straightens its French blue dress; clearly apprehensive. Before it can introduce itself, a booming voice echoes around the hall like a choir in an asylum.

“A little treat comes into my domain!”

An orchestra of inhuman whispers, like hundreds of nails screeching on a blackboard.

The doll gazes upwards to the distant, shaded ceiling, and discerns snakelike motions of something truly gargantuan.

The monster descends through the beams of sunlight that illuminate its scaled body, slithers along the brick walls, surrounds its guest in its coils.

The doll doesn’t shoot. It recognizes well when it’s hopelessly outmatched. Instead, it offers an unconvincing smile.

The master of the house giggles with the sound of a steady stream of golden coins trickling down a pile.

Its massive body shrinks and folds unto itself, rows of scales overlapping and contracting, coils slithering faster and faster, until a human figure walks out of the chaos…

… and the doll looks up to see a disarming smile on the chiseled face of a ten feet tall woman with dark iridescent skin.

It gathers its last shreds of bravery. “Good evening, ma’am! This one is here regarding-” it consults the papers, “your hoard levy going back 230 years?”

The terrifyingly tall woman looks down at the doll half her height. Appraises its ruffled bag, its straight knee-length dress, its black official-looking shoes and matching thigh-highs,

and lets out a courtly laugh in a wonderful, melodic voice. The doll takes a tiny step back.

“Oh my-

-oops, sorry! Oh my Gods! You’re so tiny! And cute! And that serious mug, oh, I can’t hold myself!” She bends down, grabs the doll by its waist, raises it up and starts smothering it with kisses.

Mwah! Mwah! Mwah!

The doll decides it won’t be having any of it. “Cease- And- Desist- This- Instant!” it shouts indignantly, punctuating every word with the flailing of its ball-jointed arms. “You! Are! Smooching! A! Government! Official! I am going to punish you with a fine! A fine for every! single! humiliating! kiss! I’m counting!”

”Worth it!” the huge dragon lady exclaims. “Wow, you’re feisty! Hey, levy doll-” The affronted Government Official snaps. “It’s ‘Tax Dollector’, thank you very much!”

The dragon lady puffs her cheeks and snickers. “Whaaaa- your superiors have an odd sense of humor!”

“They do not have a sense of humor, miss.” the doll solemnly replies. “They’re the Revenue Service.”

An awkward silence hangs in the air.

“Hey, uh, would you like to see this one’s calculator?” The doll, still suspended in midair, rummages through its bag, produces a device.

The dragon lady seems captivated by the gadget. “How quaint, what does it do?”

“A lot of things with numbers! This one doesn’t use it, though! It can count very well, you know.”

The lady suddenly shifts to a respectful expression. “Count, hmm… Would you like to see my hoard?”

The doll nods, and gets whiplash as it’s carried through endless halls and corridors and staircases (every door respectfully opens before the dragon slams into it), until they enter a vast cavernous hall; no country could hope to construct anything like that.

The place could house multiple villages or a small town; its walls are so high it has its own climate. The floor is buried entirely under mountains of treasure: every precious in every possible form, countless artifacts strewn around.

They fly to the highest peak, where the doll notices a little open-plan boudoir; there’s a huge bed that could fit the draconic form of this charismatic tax dodger, and a cuddle pile of dressed-up dolls napping on it. Well, at least there��s bound to be good tea in this place.

The dragon lady places it next to the pile gently, avoiding waking anyone up, and whispers to it with a gentle smile.

“Welcome to my hoard, you beautiful little thing. Sleep well.” She curls around the snoozing dollpile and starts drifting off.

The Tax Dollector yawns, takes a look around. Perhaps it could start by inventorying this terribly messy hoard of treasures. It’s pretty good at counting the uncountable. A few decades’ work?

It yawns again, stretches, and curls up against the drake. It can start tomorrow. ∎