#but he was incredibly bi in the book

[moo9395]

Do you think Jeremy Jordan is aware of how bisexual the majority of his characters are??

[roguetelepaths]

hey uh frank quick question

why are you, as a man, talking about another man like this in a series that also contains some of the most homophobic things I have ever seen put to print

[ghouldump]

Love Me | Lestat de Lioncourt x Bi!Reader

ෆ as your companionship seems to be failing, you retreat, seeking comfort from a woman who looks awfully similar.

a short fic from me to you. bi reader, as well as rockstar lestat, has been high in demand. i actually accidentally deleted a few really good ones, but there i honestly write whenever i’m bored, so more is bound to come along.

Throwing the large book, you expected it to hit him in the head, but before it could connect, the book went left, falling onto the floor.

“How long will you continue this, ma chérie, you don't menstruate, so why must you go on like this? Hm, do you want to shop, a new handbag, shoes, a new boy toy?” Lestat asked, smirking. Behind the grin, he was incredibly frustrated. The two of you had been arguing for over an hour, and he didn't even know why.

“What does that have to do with anything? You always have to ridicule, when a problem is being addressed,” you screamed, a few tears escaping. As much as you tried to hold them back, the barrier was crumbling, as you grew angrier.

“Are you serious? What is the problem? Go on”

“That boy that you bought home, he looked like him-

“It was merely a coincidence”

“And the one before that, and before that, and many more. All of them resembled him, your Louis,” you whispered, wiping your tears.

“All of them were also drained and burned”

“After you fucked them,” you said, shaking your head as he chuckled.

“50 years, I have given myself to you, and you alone, but I haven't been enough, I’m not Louis”

“Y/n-

“You revealed your identity to the entire world for him. I let you turn me at only nineteen to fill your lonely void, and you’ve never told me you loved me, do you even love me?”

“What kind of point are you trying to prove? I told you, Louis and I had a very different relationship, than what you and I-

“Right, you loved him, and I was the replacement,” you laughed, grabbing your phone and handbag.

“Where are you going?”

“Out, text me from your iPad, if you need anything,” you grumbled. He was too much of an illiterate man-child to even learn how to use a phone, depending on you and Siri.

“The sun will be out soon”

“I won't be long,” you said, making sure to slam the door.

Your emotions were all over the place, angered at the terrible decisions you'd made over the years. You were a young party girl, in the 70s, when you met Lestat. It didn't take long before he was your boyfriend, and you were bragging to your friends about the sex. After months of dating, he confided in you about a weird call from his former lover’s partner, revealing his identity afterward. Soon, he asked you to join him in darkness, and immediately you agreed.

However, looking back, you felt like an idiot, you should've stayed away when the adults told you about the strangeness of Lestat. The rumors of him not aging, only being seen at night. You couldn't see past his charming personality or handsome face, to realize he was trying to fill the void Louis left.

Walking through the French Quarter, you maneuvered through the crowd. You rolled your eyes at all of the tourists, especially since the writer, Daniel Molloy came out with his book, people were flocking to the city.

Going into a random bar, you sat down, your eyes scanning the menu. Alcohol didn't have much of an effect on you, only making you slightly tipsy, but it was something that made you feel human.

“I bought your drink, the least you could do is give me your number,” you heard the man next to you say rudely.

“What can I get for you?” the bartender asked.

“A pineapple martini,” you said, handing him your card.

“I didn't ask you to,” the girl argued.

“Listen, I didn't spend $20 on an overpriced daiquiri just because you're cute-

“And I told you, I didn't ask you to buy it,” she argued.

“Can you two take that elsewhere, I don't want to hear all of that, while I enjoy my drink,” you said, tapping the man’s shoulder.

“No one cares, and keep your hands off-

The man stood from his seat, lunging forward to grab you next, when you caught his arm, twisting it. You watched the man in satisfaction, thinking of how men hadn't changed, even in the 60s, 70s, 80s, and so on — there were always the disgustingly perverted men.

“You don't know how to keep your hands to yourself, it’s gross, but it makes me feel less guilty for breaking your arm,” you said, shrugging before twisting his arm. He screamed in agony, holding his arm as he ran out of the bar, just as your martini was sat down, along with your card.

“Hey, thank you for that,” the woman started, as you sat down. By her accent alone, you knew she was a tourist.

“It was nothing,” you mumbled, twirling the little straw, focused on the drink.

“How did you do that? Do you take self defense classes?” she asked.

“No”

“Well, that was pretty impressive, I don't think I’ve ever seen-

“Lady, I just want to enjoy my drink-

Your eyes widened at the woman, she was perfect, she looked like Lestat, if he had been gender-swapped. Her blonde tresses were inches away from her waist, sky blue eyes, and full pink lips. Her bone structure was symmetrical, her straight teeth as white as milk. She dressed hyper feminine, wearing too much pink and white. You tried not to be weird, forcing your eyes to stop wandering, despite catching a glimpse of her toned body.

“I’m sorry, I know I can talk too much sometimes, sorry,” she apologized.

“You’re fine, I’m just in a shitty mood,” you shrugged.

“What’s wrong?”

“My partner is caught up on his ex, even though they broke up forever ago,” you admitted.

“Why do you hold on to him then?”

“Everything else is perfect about him, I can’t help but want to be loved by him,” you mumbled, thinking of Lestat. Since he revealed himself, he had been very busy, but when he wasn’t, his attention was on you. Waiting for him backstage, in the hotels, in his coffin, the quality time was incredibly intimate.

“If he’s as perfect as you claim, why are you here, obviously upset?” she asked, scooting closer.

“I don’t think I will ever come close to being loved as much as Louis,” you admitted, gulping down the pressure of the tears.

“I’m sorry,” she said, reaching to touch your hand.

“I will be fine, are you new to New Orleans?” You asked, staring at her hand laid against your own.

“Yes, I’m Lisa by the way, but I want to move here, I’ll be out here for a few weeks, maybe we can hang out, you could be my personal tour guide,” she said, briefly biting her lip. In her thoughts, she was hopeful, wanting more than to spend time with you. You seemed mysterious and she was dying to know why.

“Y/n, What did you want to do?”

“See historical landmarks, try local cuisines, hang out with you,” she said, leaning towards you.

“Me?”

“A woman as beautiful as you deserves all of the attention”

“I could say the same thing about you,” you smirked, remaining still as she leaned closer, allowing her to press her lips against your own.

As you moved closer, your phone dinged, making you reach into your pocket. Pulling away, you rolled your eyes as you stared at the coffin emoji, paired with a question mark.

“I have to go,” you told her, going to stand.

“Could I have your number, we could hang out sometime, if you're free,” she said, fidgeting. Smirking, you couldn't help but think of how much she looked like him, yet acted completely different.

Laughing, you unlocked your phone, handing it to her. After her number was saved, you were making your way to the townhouse. The sun could be seen coming into view, and just as you began opening the door, you could feel the heat burning against your skin.

“I thought you wouldn't be long,” Lestat said from the top of the stairs, as the door was shut.

“I wasn't”

“You left nearly two hours ago,” he said, following behind you, as you walked past him, up the stairs.

“And I’m home, did you want to argue more?” you asked him, rudely. He was stunned by your tone, but recovered quickly.

“No, I wanted you to return to me, in perfect condition,” he said, watching as you stripped from the clothing, holding your phone near.

“I’m okay, it will heal,” you told him, feeling his eyes on your lightly burned shoulder. You didn't say anything else, climbing into your coffin, and he couldn't admit your already different behavior left him feeling embarrassed.

Just as your eyes were about to shut, your phone lit up, as Lisa’s message appeared on the screen, asking if you made it home safely. Lestat stared at your coffin, hearing the sound of you typing, before slowly moving to his own.

“Sleep well, ma chérie”

“You too,” you said, hearing the sound of his coffin closing.

Lestat was confused by the way you were acting. This wasn't the first and most likely wouldn't be the last time you'd get into an argument, but this time seemed different. You'd leave and eventually come home, and he'd pick a fight, and just as you started to argue back, he would apologize for his actions and everything would fall into place.

Now, just two hours later you acted completely standoffish with him, as if you didn't want to be bothered. Was the argument that serious to you? You understood the love he held for Louis, but that it was best that they remained friends alone. He was with you, he had been all these years, he cared for you, he lo-.

Lestat didn't know how to express himself, arguing, being jealous, possessive, then ravishing you with gifts, that's all he knew. What he didn't realize was his failure to comfort and reassure you, not taking you seriously, you were pulling you away, as you began to desire your needs elsewhere.

Immediately, Lestat could see the red flags going off, you were gone every night. Some nights before he even woke up, others you'd silently dress in front of him, before leaving. Even when he left for his music business, you always traveled with him, but now you had excuses.

He didn't want to follow you, but he had to, the jealous assumptions were beginning to pile up in his thoughts. Months, it had been months of you ignoring his presence. You’d look at him, hunt with him, and even talk with him if he wanted — but you weren’t putting your all into the relationship anymore. He was making the same mistake as he did with Louis. Choosing when the relationship could and couldn’t open.

He’d dabble in his different tastes regularly, no strings attached, usually killing the person after. You were different, the only way you’d have another person, was if Lestat was present. You weren’t as open to the idea of having others, and in a way, it satisfied Lestat knowing you would never sleep with another, or so he thought.

He had been following you, all the way to Gentilly, until you stopped at the unfamiliar house. His heart could have shattered, as he watched you through the window. The woman, you touched, touched in a way that was only meant for him.

He watched as you and this is unknown woman made love, his heart throbbing. The two of you, going on for what felt like hours, before you were both giggling, going into the bathroom. As the woman came out, grabbing a towel, Lestat was sure his dead heart would stop. This woman, she looked exactly like him, he couldn’t even say he looked better, because they resembled each other so much.

After your shared shower, you both plopped on the bed, holding each other. Your hearts full of passion towards each other.

“Y/n,” Lisa said, playing with your sharp nails.

“Hm?” You answered, your eyes closed. Her warm skin felt nice against your forever icy skin.

“I think I love you,” she said, making you open your eyes.

“What?” You asked, looking at her.

“I love you, I know it’s only been a few months, but that’s all I needed with you to know,” she said. You could feel the tears building up, as you pressed your lips against her own.

Staring at her, you could only see Lestat, the one who stole your heart all those years ago. No matter how idiotic you’re decision was, at the time. All you wanted was for him to declare his love for you, with his mouth.

“Say it again, please?” You asked her, as you pulled away.

“I love you,” she smiled brightly, smashing her lips into yours, as she pulled you back into a hug.

Lestat had tears pouring down his face, as he turned to leave. He didn’t think he could watch any more of whatever that was supposed to be. He couldn't take the idea of you being loving or being loved by another. All this started because of love, you claiming he didn't love you.

“Lisa, tell me you love me, once more,” you said, as you began to glamour her.

“I love you,” she exclaimed.

“No, you don't, you never met me, you won't recognize my face and you will never approach me, do you understand?” you asked her, watching as she silently nodded, you wiped the bloody tear from your eye, just as it escaped,

“Yes”

“You will sleep now, you're very tired,” you said, watching as she nodded, dozing off. She lay beautifully, as you covered her with the blanket. You couldn't replace him, even with the female doppelganger — especially with her. Lisa was a sweet girl, you didn't want to take away her life, revealing your nature, for your selfish reasons.

Leaving her home, you silently went back to your shared townhouse. It was quiet, Lestat already in his coffin, as you undressed.

“Good night,” you mumbled, getting into your coffin.

If this would be life, then you accepted it, second to Louis. You loved Lestat with every piece of your soul, so much that you could take not being loved, but being liked enough to be in his presence.

As the sun eventually left, you got up, dressing to go hunt. You found a random man, draining him in an alley, but as you made your way back home, your eyebrows furrowed. Entering the house, your eyes widened at the sight.

Exotic dancers, well over ten of them, all with wavy blonde hair and shades of blue eyes. A few of them were fawning at Lestat, but he paid none of them any kind of attention.

“What is the meaning of this?”

“For you, ma chérie, I’ll drain them, but I’ll let do whatever you please with them first,” he grinned.

“What are you talking about? Get them out, now,” you said, shrugging off a hand that was about to rub your shoulder. Watching as Lestat controlled them, sending them away, before he sat down, drained from the action.

“What is wrong with you? Bringing all of those women here? God, why don't you think,” you grumbled.

“I was just trying to appease your passions since they were more of your type, I mean, it only took a few months for you to find out,” he shrugged, making you realize he had been there.

“You can't be serious, you're such a creeper,” you laughed bitterly.

“For months, I’ve reached out to you, and you recoiled at my touch, just for me to find out you're having an affair with a woman, who looks too much like me”

“And how is that any different than what you've done?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“I heard you both, making love to her, kissing her, touching her the way that you do me. Texting her throughout the day, you're in love with her,” Lestat cried.

“I’m in love with you, but you love Louis. I can't replace him, so I wanted to replace you,” you said, turning to storm away, when he caught your hand.

“I will always love Louis but don't think that I don't love you. You are my wife, my companion, the one who saved me from myself. I don't want to see you with another, only me,” he confessed. His face was covered in blood from the tears pouring down his face.

“And you have me, but you have to say it, I know you show it in your own ways, but to hear it from your lips, would help me so much,” you told him.

“I love you, I love you, I love you. I know, I am a hypocrite, but end your affair, I can't take knowing you love another, I love you” he pouted.

“Fine, you won't have to worry about her,” you told him, as he moved closer to embrace you. Swiftly, he lifted you, holding you in his arms.

“Are we made up now?”

“Yes, love”

“I don't know how much I could take of that excruciating cycle of neglect,” he expressed.

“Lestat?” you said, as he sat down, having you straddle his lap.

“Yes, chérie?”

“Tell me again, tell me you love me,” you said, sighing in fulfillment as his arms wrapped around your body.

“I love you and I’ll say it as many times as you need”

…

[ohcorny]

so! it's been a year since i put never satisfied on hiatus, and 9 years since i started posting it, and rather than make you read everything if all you want to know is "when's it coming back?" the answer is still: don't know! but the answer has also shifted closer to "it isn't" the longer i've spent on break, and i think it's worth being up front about that.

i talked about it a little here a few weeks ago, but the long and short of it is that between taking on better paying work, writing better stories, and looking back at what i'd already done for never satisfied... i just don't think i want to continue it? the year off has been incredibly good for my mental health, and i can't see myself wanting to go back after the two-three years still ahead of me on my current project. that's not to say i never want to return to the characters or the concept, but if i did, i imagine it would be with something completely new, in a different form. after all, i started this comic when i was 21 years old, a lesbian, and a sophomore in college. i am now just shy of 30, a bi man, and overall a completely different person than i was, back when i was writing without a plan and putting all of my insecurities into the comic--insecurities i don't identify with anymore. lord i'm closer to rothart's age than i am to lucy's. hate that

anyway. you have all been extraordinarily kind for following never satisfied for as long as you have, for supporting it as much as you have, and being as patient as you have. whatever form never satisfied takes in the future (god willing, with a more cohesive story structure and A PLAN FOR THE ENDING, WHICH BY THE WAY I NEVER, EVER HAD) i hope to see you there!

in the meantime, as an update on where i'm at with the thing that made me stop working on NS: i finished it! all the pages for Hunger's Bite (if you remember it with a different title: no you don't) have been turned in and now it's just revisions and covers and then........ waiting a year until it can come out. because that's how it is in traditionally published graphic novels! nothing releases for a full year after you finished it! and you're even getting it earlier than was originally planned, because i'm a creature and finished it like three months ahead of schedule. i've also already started thumbnailing the sequel book which i can't talk about whatsoever and will now be working on that for the next two years and then HOPEFULLY the first book will have done well enough that i can sell a third! so you better buy it when it comes out next february!!!!!!

to ease you all into it, i wanted to do a little crossover to introduce the main characters. we have emery, whose design is fully and unintentionally just Seiji Again down to his color palette (but seiji would bully him if they met. like so hard. he's a wimp). then we have neeta, a girl who dreams of travel and cares deeply about worker's rights, and wick, a vampire agent investigating the mysterious and sinister new owner of the 1910s ocean liner emery and neeta call home. he's also gay. but sorry lucy, you aren't his type. you're not mean enough.

the best place to keep up with me these days is probably here, as this first book gets closer to release, i will probably be posting about it a lot. and i will certainly post about it here when there's an official release date and cover reveal! i hope you'll go read it. i really think if you liked never satisfied and its themes, you'll like hunger's bite!

thank you again for reading!!

[pooks]

Percy Weasley headcanon time, part 2!

all the Quidditch captains at Hogwarts crushed HARD on him

Oliver Wood: obvious reasons, they are roommates (oh my god, they are roommates), they're in every class together, Percy has canonically been at Gryffindor's Quidditch matches, etc. i could go on.

Roger Davies: captain of the Ravenclaw in case you don't remember( can't blame ya). but Percy is smart and clever, he would charm the pants of any Ravenclaw without even trying. a fellow scholar who plays Quidditch too. everytime Ravenclaw meets Gryffindor, he tries to impress but fails cause Oliver Wood.

Cedric Diggory: he got the biggest boy crush on Percy and it was literally his bi awakening. not only is Percy smart, but he's also incredibly kind and responsible. he takes a page of Percy's book and values good sportmanship (this is the reason why the twins can't stand him, they've seen him yearning after their brother)

Marcus Flint: he doesn't like any Gryffindor at all, not even when pigs fly and it rains lava. but Percy is different, he's the Golden Student of not only Gryffindor, but of the whole school (no he doesn't count Hermione). Percy is smart, clever, determined, kind, righteous and so incredibly pretty. if it wasn't for his blood status, then Percy would've been poster child of "the ideal spouse" the pureblood families always nags about.

Conclusion: Oliver and Marcus gets into fistfights every week because of this and no one relents until someone is nearly dead (the only reason Snape gives detention to a Slytherin, of all things, cause he didn't sign up for his own student's blood feud)

Poor Roger Davies gets friendzoned the whole time cause Percy genuinely believes they're friends and he can't ruin that cause Penelope Clearwater will literally murder him in his sleep

Cedric decides to play it safe, earn Percy's affection slowly and maybe the Perfect Prefect will fall for him...eventually.

Too bad Fred and George is deadset on NO ONE dates their brother...except maybe Oliver Wood, but he has to prove himself with twelve quests (that was a total lie)

Outcome: Percy eventually dates Oliver Wood and he's incredibly happy with him. He doesn't even know that his five brothers and baby sister threatens Oliver if he ever hurt him. He's mildly annoyed when he finds out, though.

[are-you-fucking-with-me-rn]

dead boy detectives has, in my opinion, the best queer rep/storyline i've seen in any media today. it's the lack of labels.

at the very beginning of my own queer-discovery journey, my main sources of queer media were either love, simon(the movie, i never ended up reading the book) or the webcomic heartstopper. In stories like the former, the character already knew their identity before the story even started. And Nick's journey in heartstopper was very lead by the constant "am I gay or bi?". So, naturally, I OBSESSED over labels. I read wikis with hundreds of descriptions. I had to figure out which identity i belonged with so i could feel part of a community, right? Even when I had finally decided I was tired of this, and decided to go unlabeled, i found someone had made a flag for unlabeled and it was yet ANOTHER box. (btw, I'm not saying any of this is bad. for some people it's incredible to put a single word to your complex feelings, and really gain a sense of belonging. Media like that is fine and important.)

Dead Boy Detectives only uses the label "gay", and it is said twice within the same scene, and neither time is it used to describe a character going through any queer journey.

Edwin's story isn't a struggle of "am I gay or straight or bi?" it's "i've never felt this way before, why do i feel this way? how does this change things? what does this mean?" He is never once pushed by other characters to give a label. When Niko inquires, its about his feelings ("do you want to kiss monty/the cat king?", even saying "boys can like like boys" isnt targeted towards ONE specific identity). Charles accepts Edwin so openly, without once asking even out of curiosity a specific label. The labels are great, but i feel like it can be kinda easy to get caught up in them. Edwin's queer journey is led by feelings alone, something I've never seen done before in media, and i think this is so so important both for those just starting their own discoveries but also to normalize the whole thing.

Holy shit i wrote alot. thanks to anyone who actually reads this far😭

[inkykeiji]

you be my revolver, i got you in my hands

character: choso kamo x fem!reader

genre: curseless!au, smut

notes: eeee first choso piece ever!!! i had such a blast writing this and i wish i could’ve gotten it finished in time for christmas but alas! anyway, please enjoy this and as always please heed the warnings below and stay safe! | title credit: girl like me by dove cameron

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, pseudocest (reader + choso are family friends), age gap, bratty reader, rough sex, minimal prep, teasing, hints of manipulation, hints of dubcon, size kink, pet names

words: 6k

synopsis:

“Maybe you should stop calling me that.” “What? Why?” you pout, blinking up at him, sugared innocence coating your tone. “I thought you wanted me to call you big brother…I thought I was allowed to…”  “Bi-Big brothers don’t do stuff like this with their little sisters—” “Well, it’s a good thing we’re not actually related then, isn’t it, onii-chan.” 

Choso can’t remember the last time he saw you.

You’ve known each other for a long time—so long Choso’s lost count of the years, now, having met you when Yuuji was just a toddler (and you were, too) at the bus stop on Yuuji’s first day of Pre-K, only to discover you lived a mere few houses from each other—but you haven’t seen each other in a long time, too. 

It’s not through fault of either of you; life had gotten in the way, as it has a tendency to do so, had grown busy with intricacies and obligations that demanded time and attention, tangling around you and keeping you apart. 

You had both embarked on university endeavours; him pursuing his PhD, you continuing your undergrad, had both stuffed more and more into your lives—art shows and book readings and music festivals and tropical trips—and lost space for each other in the process.

Choso can’t remember the last time he saw you, but it feels as though no time has passed at all, as it normally does with family—you’re still just as bratty as you’ve always been (some things never change, he guesses; some things you’ll never grow out of, he supposes). 

Family.

Family is not a word he uses lightly, but you and yours had quickly become his and theirs, had quickly become ours, morphing from neighbours to friends to practically kin, members mixing to form something special, a hybrid of some sort, stuck somewhere between long-standing family friends and blood relatives. 

Which is why how you’re acting—how you’ve been acting, this entire winter break—is so undeniably inappropriate. 

And although he’s lost track of the years, everything beginning to blur together, to melt and flow and shift and breathe, he still remembers the day he told you to call him onii-chan. 

That he doesn’t think he’ll ever forget.

Yuuji’s so lucky, you had pouted, kicking at the sandy ground with the toe of your shoe and swaying a little on the swing. He has a big brother. I don’t. I’ve always wished I had one. Sighing, you looked away, fingers tangling in the chain. But I’ll never get one; it’s impossible. 

It’s not impossible, Choso had responded gently, nudging his swing against your own. I’ll be your big brother, if you want. 

And you—well, you had been so incredibly happy, all bright smiles and sunshine eyes and breathless giggles, to have a big brother to call your own.

Never in his life did he think he’d come to regret such a decision.

But you seem to be on a mission to make him, this Christmas.

Because you’re really testing his fucking patience, this Christmas.

The term of endearment oozes from your lips as if it’s melted in the wet heat of your mouth every single time, always paired with your worst behaviour: bending over in those short, sweet, slutty skirts and flashing cute Christmas panties at him; placing a hand much too high to be appropriate on his thigh as you watch a film together, leaning close to his ear to murmur out a silky question you already know the answer to; twining your ankles with his beneath the dinner table and gazing at him with eyes full of sin, leaning so far forward on the table that your tits swell, nearly spilling from the too-low neckline of your dress, then giggling when you catch him ogling. 

As a result, he’s been meticulous about avoiding being alone in a room with you—he doesn’t trust himself, doesn’t trust what he might do, especially if you start playing your little games—but he should’ve known it would only be a matter of time until you get want you want. 

Because it always is. 

And on Christmas Eve, you finally succeed. 

Somehow, you’ve managed to get him alone in his childhood bedroom—something about wanting to flip through his old sketchbooks, to search for some doodles he had drawn for you many years ago, to rip the pages from the spiral-bound spine and stuff them in your back pocket, for safekeeping, you had claimed. 

Tugging at his heartstrings, that’s how you succeeded. 

Sitting on the edge of his small twin bed, thighs slotted up against one another and both of your arms looped around one of his, he flips through the curling pages of his drawings, smudged with graphite and pastels. 

“Oh, I remember this one!” 

A dainty finger points to a cute kitten sketched out in astonishing detail, with a pink nose and a satin ribbon tied in a bow around its neck. 

“It’s you,” he smirks. “You asked me what animal you’d be, and then demanded I draw you as a kitten when I responded with a cat.” 

“You drew a lot of me,” you lean forward, swelling breasts pressed flush to his bicep, a palm sitting high on his thigh as avid eyes scan over the spread, gaze stuttering as it sweeps from doodle to doodle. 

“I drew a lot for you,” he says, the observation entirely unthinking. “You wanted a specific page, but I might as well give you this whole sketchbook. More than half the pieces in here are for you.” 

It’s a fact that shocks him in its authenticity, a realization that sends a painful, sick thrill searing through his body, saliva beginning to collect in the dips beneath his tongue.

“I’m such a lucky girl,” you hum out in a sigh, nuzzling your cheek into his arm and looking up at him with shimmering eyes. “I have such a good big brother.” 

“You’re spoiled,” he says, but his voice holds no malice, eyes softening as he stares down at you, a small smile on his lips. 

“I dunno about that,” you frown, but mischief glints in your eye. “You haven’t really given me what I’ve wanted all holiday…” 

Blood turns to shards of ice in his veins, whole body going rigid as his breath stalls in his throat, pounding heartbeat reverberating in his ears. 

“Wh-What’s that?”

He doesn’t want to ask it, doesn’t mean to ask it, but the question claws at his tongue, pries past his teeth and tumbles from his lips in a ragged, tangled heap.

And the smile that spreads across your face is nothing short of sinister, that glint flaring to a sharp shine as your pupils breathe, pulse, swallow him whole. 

“A Christmas kiss,” you say, stare unblinking and intense as your hand slips between his legs, rubbing little circles into his inner thigh, a mere centimetre or two away from his cock. 

The motion makes him jolt, hips involuntarily twitching toward your touch, brushing his half-hard cock against your knuckles.

“That’s all I want,” you sigh almost dreamily, tits pressed harder into his bicep as you lean closer, so tight they’re practically being squeezed from your sweetheart neckline. “A kiss from my onii-chan. Though…” 

Trailing off, your hand slides up a little further, pinky and ring finger tiptoeing along the rapidly hardening lump in his jeans, squealing out a short giggle as it jumps beneath your touch.

“I’m not sure that’s all onii-chan wants.”

“Onii-chan doesn’t want anything from you,” he breathes out, but his voice is rough, unconvincing, his hands curled into firm fists on his bedspread, trembling slightly, skin stretched taut across pointed knuckles.

“Another lie,” your lips tug down, voice saturated with disappointment. “You know, good big brothers don’t lie to their siblings,” you fix him with a look, glaring through feathery lashes, expression teetering dangerously on the edges of a pout.

A shiver skitters through his bones, whole body stiffening. His jaw flexes as he grinds his molars, a slow, controlled breath exhaled out his nose, his eyes flicking down. You’re still touching him, two fingertips rubbing gentle circles into his clothed cock.

“Maybe you should stop calling me that.”

“What? Why?” you pout, blinking up at him, sugared innocence coating your tone. “I thought you wanted me to call you big brother…I thought I was allowed to…” 

“Bi-Big brothers don’t do stuff like this with their little sisters—”

“Well, it’s a good thing we’re not actually related then, isn’t it, onii-chan.” 

“That—That—” he swallows hard, dense saliva pooling at the back of his tongue. “That doesn’t matter—We shouldn’t—”

“But—” your lip juts out further, forehead crinkling. “But I want to.” 

You can’t always get what you want. 

That’s what he wants to tell you. That’s what he wishes he could tell you. But it just isn’t fucking true, when it comes to you. 

“Stop,” he says instead, and although it’s supposed to be an order, it comes out as a plead, his voice hoarse, strained, thin, the proclamation high and false and tinny. 

“You’re a terrible liar,” the tip of your index finger traces the head, looking up at him through your lashes. “Did you know that?” 

He does, he does know that. He’s a terrible liar, eyes too honest, voice too sincere, expressions too candid, always giving away his true intentions and forthright thoughts.

He’s a terrible discipliner, too, incapable of saying no, of refusing his siblings anything. You know this, too. 

“St—” he tries to force the word from his tongue again, protest sticking in his throat. Stop, stop, he wants you to stop, he needs you to stop, please. 

But that’s a lie, too, the rejection refusing to take shape, to mold into something audible, something tangible, something worthwhile. 

No matter how much he wishes it were true, he can’t will it to become true—not when he wants this just as badly as you do, his straining cock exposing his real desires to you.

You’ve already taken full notice of it, yearning for you through rough denim, hot and hard and throbbing. The pad of your finger rubs over the slit in rhythmic motions, smooth and gliding, aided by the copious amount of pre-cum oozing through the material, and it jerks beneath your touch, eager for more attention. 

“It’s so hard, onii-chan,” your hand cups the impressive bulge, rolling it in your palm, a girlish giggle tickling your tongue. “It—It’s throbbing, onii-chan.” 

“Yeah? And who’s fault is that?” he breathes, attempting to keep his tone stern and his eyes stony. 

“It’s making me want to ride it,” you whimper loudly, squeezing your thighs together, completely ignoring his question. “Oh, please, onii-chan, can I ride your cock?” 

“Fu-fuck,” the curse breaks on his tongue, eyes shut tightly, breaking away from your invasive stare. “Fuck, fuck, f-fuck.” 

No. 

“I’d really like to ride it, onii-chan.”

No. 

“Can I? Pretty please?”

No-no-no-no-no! 

He wants to say no. He should say no. It’s the right thing to do. 

He’s the older brother, the eldest brother, it’s his duty to say no, to mentor, to lead by example. 

But he can’t. 

He can’t form the word in his throat, can’t mold it into a sound and push it from his mouth. 

He’s never truly been able to, when it comes to you—and he was so fucking stupid to think he would.

Because, as always, you are making it exceptionally difficult to deny, gazing up at him with shimmering eyes like that, mouth licked raw in anticipation, bottom lip bitten puffy from the front teeth constantly sinking into it.

“I—It isn’t right—” he attempts, swallowing thickly, cords in his neck straining, desperately attempting to quell the tremor in his voice.

He knows you don’t care. If he’s being entirely honest with himself, he doesn’t, either, his morality eroded to nothing more than a farce, a thin façade, not nearly strong enough to force him into doing the right thing, not nearly strong enough to fortify his rapidly waning self-discipline.

“I—I won’t tell,” you whimper, and he can see the fine film of tears lacquering your eyes, shielding lust-blown pupils. “Pinky promise! I just—I just want you so badly,” your nose twitches cutely with a sniffle, your bottom lip beginning to waver with infinitesimal quivers, soft palm caressing his cock like you love it. “Please, onii-chan?”

And Christ, you’re so pretty, so pouty, with your glistening puppy-dog eyes and pleads dripping from your lips like thick syrup. 

How could he possibly say no to something so precious? How could anyone?

“Alright,” he whispers, defeated, eyes squeezing shut as he nods. “If it’ll make you happy.”

“Really?”

And just like that, the tears are incinerated from your eyes, gaze bright and blazing with excitement, lips molded into a brilliant smile. 

You look so sickeningly beautiful when you get what you want. 

“Yes,” he nearly whimpers, and it’s pathetic, his hips twitching up into your touch, craving, desperate. “Yes, yes, ride my cock.” 

The affirmative is all you need, squealing a little with happiness as you climb into his lap, fingers up your own skirt to push your soaked panties to the side, other hand pawing clumsily at his waistband.

“Thank you,” you breathe, the words soaking into his neck, sealed with a sloppy kiss. “Oh, thank you, onii-chan.” 

He can’t help but chuckle a little as his hands find your waist, instinctive, steadying you. 

“Eager little thing, aren’t you.”

“This is all I want,” you tell him, pulling back a little to search his face. “S’all I’ve wanted for a long time.” 

He wants to ask you to elaborate on that, confusion warping his brow, but then you’re yanking at his belt loops and pulling at his zipper and wrapping a soft palm around the base of his cock, a heavy groan vibrating in his throat. 

“Wait, wait!” he chokes on a gasp as you hover over his cock, head bumping against your hole. “Let me—”

“I don’t wanna wait,” you whine out, petulant and stringy, whole face scrunched in frustration. “I’ve been waiting! I want your cock in me now!”

Fuck, you’re such a fucking brat, he’s growling as he forces you down on his cock in one swift motion, the sudden intrusion pushing a yelp from your lips. Your forehead knocks against his, sugar-stained breath wafting across his face, his tongue darting out to mop up remnants from his mouth. 

It’s really cute, the way your little cunt spasms around his shaft as he bottoms out, pressed snug and tight against your cervix, desperate in its attempt to adjust to his girth. It’s really sweet, the way your body splits itself open for him, cracking at the core and struggling to swallow him down.

“Oh, it’s so big, onii-chan!” 

“God,” he nearly sobs. “You’re gonna be the fuckin’ death of me, y’know that?” 

Giggling, you wind your arms around his neck tighter, nuzzling your cheek into his skin, then stringing a garland of wet kisses along the line of his jaw. 

“S’really thick, Choso-nii,” you tell him honestly, nodding in lethargic little motions. “I feel so full, onii-chan.” 

A laugh falls from his lips, breathy and exalted. 

“I don’t know if it’s that I’m big, or if it’s just that your cunt is so fucking small,” his voice tapers off into a whine, raspy and gruff. 

“H-Hurts a little, onii-chan,” you admit in a whimper, hips shifting in experimental little movements, conjuring a groan from deep within his chest. 

“Yeah? And who’s fault is that, huh?” he asks for the second time in fifteen minutes. “Who was too impatient to let onii-chan prep her?”

“Don’t care,” you mumble. “Wanted you s’bad.” 

He laughs again, warm and gentle and full of love, his hands squeezing your hips just enough to make you gasp, fingertips pressing his name into your flesh in blotchy little ovals of purple. 

“You have me,” he says, his words ringing clear and true with a painful sincerity. 

The vibrations of your responding hum seep from your chest into his, and he sighs, body deflating against yours, pleasant little tingles snuggling between his ribs. 

You stay like that for a moment to two, wound up in one another, chests pressed flush, breathing as one. Your auras ebb and flow, presences bleeding, tangling together and creating something that is neither one nor the other but both, a single shared entity. 

And it’s nice, it’s real, it’s natural.

But then you become impatient, as you normally do, as he knew you would, wiggling a little in his lap, fingers twining in the strands at the base of his neck. 

“Go on, sweetheart,” he urges gently. “Ride onii-chan’s cock.” 

And so you do, hips beginning to roll in slow, languid circles, fingers still laced at the back of his skull, half-buried in messy ink.

He allows you to set the pace, allows you to take your time, allows you to enjoy and savour every rock and grind and bounce, staring at you through heavily lidded eyes, hands on your waist merely guiding you—keeping you stable, just like a big brother should. 

He’s absolutely breathtaking; gaze glittering in the dim light overflowing with awe, spit-slicked lips licked raw and shimmering as his tongue glides over them again, swollen and bitten cherry red.

You can’t help but reach out to trace his features; the strong line of his brow, the delicate curve of his cheek, the enticing bow of his lips, hips slowing to uneven little ruts as you hone your focus, his eyes observing you with a sick sort of fascination.

“Did you—Have you—Have you thought about this before?” 

The question stings his tongue, revulsion flushing through his blood as guilt pricks his flesh, his cock throbbing eagerly.

“Course I have,” you breathe out with a little laugh, as if he’s so silly for thinking you might not have. “Actually, I—I—”

A sudden shyness overtakes you, an unsure giggle on your lips fading into a soft squeal as you hide in his shoulder, shaking your head a little. 

“What? Huh?” he shrugs, nudging your face up gently, curiosity clawing at his irises as they search your face, voracious. “What?” 

“Well, sometimes I…” 

The words tangle in your throat and you choke on them, gaze fleeing his own, and you shake your head again, chest beginning to stammer.

“It’s okay,” he says softly, rubbing reassuring circles into your flesh. “You can tell onii-chan, go on.” 

There are tears in your eyes now, mouth wobbling a little with the verging confession, and God, that’s so hot, why is that so fucking hot? 

“Where’s my brave little sister gone now? Hmm?”

“M’right here, onii-chan,” you whisper, face teetering on a wince, as if you’re bracing for a blow, terrified to admit to him, fearing reprimand. “It’s just that—Sometimes I do, um, really bad things with my stuffies while—while thinking about you…” 

Dewdrops of shame glitter in your lashes as your lids flutter, nose scrunching with a soft sniffle, tears breaking free of their wispy confines to roll down your cheeks in fat, glimmering streams—so fucking beautiful in the dim light of his bedroom—but you don’t dare break his stare, gazing at him through a thick shield of water. 

“Oh, Christ,” he coughs on the curse, hands flexing on your waist, blunt nails digging into your skin. “And what—what do you think about?” 

“Um,” your gaze flits from his own, to his wrinkled bedspread, then back to his face, wide and honest. “Riding you, like this. And—And riding your thighs, makin’ a real mess all over them, and your thick fingers too, filling me up…” 

Bolts of dizziness sear his brain as his lungs deflate, oxygen eaten up by pure lust and leaving his chest buzzing, burning, some sort of response mangling itself in his throat, escaping his lips as nothing more than a cracked moan.

“Do you think about me, onii-chan?” 

Your question pulls him from the depths of his hedonism and he blinks, your face swimming into view, a peculiar mix of hope and cognizance infusing your expression, eyebrows raised with false curiosity, a smirk twitching on your lips.

Ah, there she is, that brat he knows so well, that brat he’s come to crave, every ounce of uncertainty eradicated from your face, replaced with assured confidence, contradicting the tears still staining your cheeks.

You fucking know he does. 

And, oh, how he wishes he was stronger, how he wishes he could lie, how he wishes he could devour the smugness in your eyes and complacency in your smile, to humble you, to knock you from your high throne.

He settles for a kiss instead, mouth crushed to yours as a large hand cups your head, thumb pressing into your ear, fingertips dragging across your scalp as he yanks you closer. 

It hurts, his front teeth scraping against your lip as he practically gnaws his way to your tongue, his own big and thick and so fucking strong as it overwhelms yours, shoving it further into the cavern of your mouth and forcing it to stay put as he explores. 

He’s making a real mess as he slathers over your molars, over the inside of your cheeks and the backs of your teeth, drenching your mouth in him. Drool oozes steadily from the corners, collecting along the underside of his bottom lip and leaving his chin sticky and slick. 

“Yes,” he whispers, eyes shut so tightly his whole forehead crinkles, mouth wet and sliding against your own. “Yes, yes, I think about you—much too often.”

Nose nudging yours, he nuzzles into your face a little, planting a chaste kiss to your lips, then peppering a few more, quick and sloppy, around your mouth.

“But right now, I don’t want to think about anything. I just want to feel you creaming all over my cock—you think you can do that for me, princess?” His palms cushion your cheeks, thumbs swiping across your cheekbones, then brushing strands of damp hair from your temples. “You think you can do that for your onii-chan?” 

Yes you can, of course you can, you’re nodding, blinking the last remnants of tears from your eyes, rapid movement eliminating the final stubborn drops, clinging delicately to your outer lashes. 

“S’it, baby,” he encourages as your hips start moving again, working up a steady rhythm. “Just like that, good girl.”

A mewl slips from your lips, burrowing your scalding face in his sticky neck again, his undivided attention almost too much to bear. 

“Like it when you call me a good girl,” you murmur, lips dragging across his skin with the confession, streaking him with thick glimmers of spit. 

“Is that so?” he laughs a little, pressing a few kisses to the crown of your head. “That’s because you don’t hear it often.” 

Lifting your head, you scowl at him, though there’s no heat to your glare, fury dimmed by fondness, unable to smother the smile playing with your lips.

A dazzling smile spreads across his own face in response, and he laughs again, his eyes so bright, so brilliant they almost hurt, blazing like two small suns, scorching your skin as his gaze glides over it.

He watches you like a man possessed, a man obsessed, entirely entranced by the way pleasure passes over your face, twisting your features into the cutest little winces as you grind the head of his cock against your cervix, then smoothing them out with bliss as his shaft drags along your favourite spot, bouncing in shallow little motions to rub over that fleshy patch hard and fast, a stream of mewls spilling from your lips, stitched together with his honorific. 

“You’re so pretty when you ride my cock,” he groans, words tapering off into a hoarse whimper, as if it pains him to admit it. 

His palms run up your sides, fingers counting over each rib, hands committing every dip and curve and bulge to memory, marvelled by the way you fill his grip, as if he can’t believe you’re real, you’re here, you’re his—even if just for tonight.

“Yeah, yeah, keep going, use onii-chan like a toy, sweetheart.” 

And he tries to be patient, he swears he does—tries not to rush you, tries to relish in the moment, in each swirl of your hips and every puff of his name—except your pace never accelerates, never moves past anything but teasing as you use his now aching cock to continually edge yourself; moans building higher and higher, louder and louder, on the cusp of the crest before they disintegrate into nothing and you start the process all over again, the delicate fluttering of your cunt enough to drive him fucking insane with desire.

It has his entire form trembling with such vigour it’s quivering the mattress, muscles locked stiff and tight as he tries to keep from moving, from bucking up wildly, from forcing you to speed the hell up. Rough fingers sink into your flesh so deep it dimples, a pathetic attempt to ground himself, rapidly blooming bruises staining your flesh.

But he’s powerless to stifle the whines leaking through the gaps of his gritted teeth, hands flexing on your hips, whole body pulled taut with restraint. 

He’s sure you can feel his cock twitching inside of you, eager and impatient, begging you to move faster, to fuck him harder. 

But you aren’t going to do any of that—not unless he asks for it, he realizes dimly, after you bring yourself to near orgasm for the third time in a row, giggling a little at his crestfallen expression, his hair having fallen almost completely from its trademark spiky buns, braided fishermen sweater soaked with sweat and sticking to his now heaving chest.

He really thought it was real this time. He really thought you were finally going to cream all over him, so he could finally flip you over and fuck you properly, pound you into the mattress and stuff that pretty, cute little cunt to the goddamn brim with his seed.

He’d been trying so hard to be nice, to be the loving, doting, good big brother he is—but he’s also only human, and there’s only so much misbehaviour he can bear before, finally, he snaps. 

Because, sure, big brothers are meant to care for, to lead and to nurture, but they’re also meant to teach, to punish, to put bratty little sisters back in their fucking place. 

“You think I don’t know what you’re doing? Huh?” his grip on your hips tightens, halting you from moving. “You think I’m fucking stupid?” 

“Never, Choso-nii,” you gasp, astonished. “I would never—” 

Sincerity rings in your voice, but he can see it, the mischief tugging at the corners of your mouth, barely suppressed by your façade of innocence.

Anyone else would’ve been fooled—enchanted by your doe eyes and your dainty voice. 

But not him.

No, he knows better now. 

“Bullshit,” he cuts you off, eyes narrowed sharply. “You wanted to ride my cock, but you’re clearly incapable of it—”

“No I’m not!”

“—So it looks like I’ll have to take matters into my own hands.”

“No! I—I can do it!” you cry, face crumpled in fury, nails scrabbling at his shoulders.

“You lost your chance to prove it to me,” he growls. 

The world flips suddenly, momentarily a blur of inks and ivories, a breath of surprise punched from your ribs as your back slams against the mattress, trapped between the bedspread and your big brother’s heaving chest.

“You have been testing me all fucking holiday,” he snarls, specks of spit splattering across your cheeks. “Onii-chan shouldn’t give you his cum—onii-chan shouldn’t have given you his cock at all!” 

A certain type of haughtiness corrodes your shock, lips spreading into a pompous smirk.

“Oh, but you just couldn’t help yourself, could you, onii-chan.” 

“You little bitch!” 

His hips shove forward, forcing you further into the plush of the mattress, cockhead ramming against your cervix. A little noise of pain vibrates on the back of your tongue, shattering your arrogance, and a grin smears across his face, glinting in the moonlight. 

“I think it’s time your big brother teach you a lesson in respect.”

“Y-Yeah? And how are you gonna do that?”

“You’re going to take what onii-chan gives you, and you’re going to fucking like it. And then, at the end, when you’ve gone stupid from the cock you don’t deserve, you’re going to thank me for giving it to you at all. Do you understand me?” 

Defiance shines in your eyes, lacquered by a thin coating of tears, nose scrunching up in a glower. 

A rough thumb and forefinger, hardened by charcoals, clamps around your jaw, squeezing your cheeks with such force that your mouth puckers, a sticky little whine squealing in your throat.

“Do you understand me?” he asks again, each word said slow with purpose, each word annunciated with intent, his eyes boring into yours, sharp and painful. 

Finally, those tears push past your bloated lashes, shoved from your eyes by rapid blinking and rolling down your cheeks in glistening pairs, a half-stifled hiccup stuttering your chest. 

“Y-Yes,” you whisper, nose twitching. 

“What was that? Onii-chan couldn’t hear you.” 

“Yes, onii-chan.” 

“Good girl.”

And then his hips are snapping, hard and fast and immediate, fucking into you with such ruthlessness that it jostles your body up the bed, sheets collecting in little wrinkled bunches beneath you. Your nails sink into his shoulders, piercing flesh through the knit of his sweater, the muscles in your thighs tensing as your ankles hook around his waist, his shirt riding up, your heels digging into the those cute little dimples that cushion the base of his spine. 

It hurts, every pound of his cock producing a dull, throbbing ache low and deep in your gut, another torrent of tears rushing to flood your vision.

“Ch-Choso-nii, Ch-Choso-nii,” you whimper, face screwed up in pain, his name stuttered by his rapid thrusts.

“What’s the matter?” he pouts, and it’s so condescending, dripping from his lips in an over-exaggerated coo. “Can’t take onii-chan’s cock?”

The question wafts across your face in a panted breath and you lick at your lips, sopping it up with your tongue.

“N-No,” you say, and that telltale brattiness is back, watered down by his viciousness. “I can do it—I-I can do it for you, onii-chan.” 

A throaty curse escapes his lips, thrusts stammering out of rhythm for a moment as his cock twitches, and a helpless giggle bubbles up in your throat.

Even angry, he’s still so fucking easy. 

He regains his composure quickly, though, face hardened to stone but beginning to splinter with pleasure. 

“Brat,” he breathes out, though there’s mirth shining in his eyes, pure and fond and full of love. “You better.”

And even angry, he still sounds so fucking pretty; cracked moans and dense groans and choked gasps, all flowing from his mouth in a single stream, fractured by the piston of his hips.

The pain doesn’t fade, of course—it barely diminishes at all, the sheer massiveness of his cock making it near impossible to be dispelled, keeping the cramping pang in the pit of your belly steady and constant—but it does amplify the pleasure, nerves gnawed raw by the agony, left hypersensitive to the sparks of ecstasy that blaze through your veins with every quick, rough pump of his hips, every deep, hard slam against your bruised cervix, every rapid drag over that engorged spot.

It leaves you feeling high, leaves you feeling stupid, brain melting in a hot haze of lust and rendering you incapable of forming a single coherent thought beyond how incredible his cock is, his name and his title the only two things your sloppy, numb tongue can fully scrape together.

It’s all so much, too much, but it all feels so fucking good—s’good, Choso-nii, y’r so-so good—sentiment vibrating indistinctly in your chest.

“Yeah, sweetheart?” he asks, words gone wispy, fading into a whine. “Does your onii-chan’s cock make you feel good?”

Yes, yes, yes, onii-chan, it’s so good, you’re so good! 

Your head nods frantically, fingers curling in the collar of his sweater, a mess of affirmatives fucked from your mouth. 

“Y’know, you’re kinda cute when you’re too cockdrunk to misbehave,” he chuckles a little, biting back a moan as your cunt clenches at the compliment. “May-Maybe onii-chan should fuck you stupid more often, huh?” 

Oh, God, yes, onii-chan; oh, please, onii-chan! 

“Yeah, you’d like that a bit too much, though, wouldn’t you, you little sl—ah—slut.”

Drool dribbles from the sides of your mouth as you continue nodding, eyes wide and unblinking, encrusted with stars. 

“Y’so pretty, onii-chan,” you manage to mumble out, sentiment tangled in threads of spit, fingers flexing in the fabric of his sweater, as if they yearn to touch but can’t find the strength to carry out the action.

And he is, so beautiful it’s borderline sickening, strands of onyx plastered to his cheeks, his jaw, his neck, strung together in clumps and saturated in sweat; damp skin glittering in the waning moonlight spilling through the slits of his window, dewdrops catching delicately in the beams as he pounds into you, every drive of his cock accelerating his pace.

“W-Wan’your cum now,” you slur the demand through a lax pout, lids beginning to weight with exhaustion, heavy as they frame dopey eyes.

“Yeah?” he laughs a little, gaze shining with adoration, and it’s breathless, it’s beautiful, his affection wafting over your scalding face. “Onii-chan needs you to cream all over his cock first. Can you—” a grunt cuts him off, and he whimpers, pushing through his sentence, his voice strained. “Can y’do that for me, angel?” 

“Uh-huh, uh—uh-huh,” your head begins nodding more fervently again, pushing your lids open with some effort to stare up at him, pupils swelling with devotion and determination.

“Then show me—Show me how gorgeous my good girl looks when she’s making a mess all over her big brother’s cock.” 

Three more thrusts and your cunt is obeying, convulsing on his thick shaft as heat gushes around him, so much that you can hear it—a sick, slick squelching as he jackhammers into you, your essence coating his thighs in a shiny layer of arousal. 

“Oh, fuck,” his eyes shut tightly before springing open again, suddenly rabid, ravenous. 

The bed creaks as his hips speed up, skin sticky with arousal as it slaps against your own, the sharp sound mingling with his ragged pants and your hitched mewls.

“Onii—Nii-chan,” you nearly wail, fingers tangling weakly in the hair at the nape of his neck, nails scraping against his flesh. “Please, please, cum, gimme—gimme y’r cum!” 

“Greedy little thing,” he rasps out, voice cracking into a whine. 

But you don’t care, you can’t care, pleads spilling from your lips as your thighs tense around his waist, hips twitching in erratic little motions, crudely trying to fuck yourself on him.  

“Need it, need it, onii-chan, fill my belly with it, onii-chan, please!” 

“Christ,” he chokes on the curse, pace faltering as he finally gives his baby sister what she wants, cock throbbing almost violently while it fills you with hot, thick cum, so much you swear you really can feel it, stuffing your belly as full as it can be, tummy bulging cutely with his seed.

You must tell him that, sentiment slipping from your lips without your permission, because he moans again, his cock giving another weak spurt, hips stuttering as he tries to fuck further into you, grinding the head into your sore cervix. 

“Yeah, yeah,” you’re murmuring, hips rolling up to meet his own. “Push it into me, onii-chan, push it into my cunt nice n deep, do-don’t waste a single drop!” 

“You really are gonna be the death of me,” he whines, face buried in your hair as he collapses on top of you, hips still moving in lazy little circles, shudders of overstimulation rippling through his form. 

“Mm,” you hum, on the cusp of unconsciousness, nuzzling your face into his neck like a kitten, then lapping at a few droplets of sweat streaming down the column. “What are lil sisters for?” 

[local-limebug]

everything i know about interview with the vampire (amc), from someone who has not watched interview with the vampire (amc) and has only consumed it via mutuals rb'ing gifsets but plans to watch it soon

this is my pre-gaming for watching this show. dipping a metaphorical toe into the fandom. i haven't read the books either.

there are 3 vampires: lestat, louis, and armand

armand's name may or may not be amadeo?

lestat and louis had a daughter named claudia

claudia was unhinged (which is fair. i would be too if i was stuck at age 15 forever)

claudia had a girlfriend named madeline

claudia and madeline died together (without even having kissed each other. true love? sapphic teenagerism? perhaps both)

claudia's death caused lestat and louis to break up after like a century of dating or something

armand killed claudia?

there was a play involved in claudia's death...? i am incredibly confused about this one

either it was a play or an execution

the love triangle seems convoluted

armand is in love with louis and lestat is also in love with louis and lestat & armand have definitely also fucked each other

louis should just get the hell out of there actually. free my boy louis !!!

the interview is being done by daniel molloy who is bi (?) and definitely into that kinky shit

daniel molloy fucked either louis or armand in his youth (during the 80s maybe?). possibly he fucked both. the human pet of the marriage

daniel's memories got messed with to... forget fucking the vampires? idk. p sure armand did it though

that seems to be the consensus for most things in this show

armand did it.

claudia died? armand did it. daniel's memory got wiped? armand did it. louis stubbed his toe? armand probably did it.

armand needs to be sent to vampire jail this guy's a menace

also lestat had a midlife crisis after louis left him for armand and became a rockstar. i hope they release his songs on spotify as marketing. i wanna hear it

BONUS: lestat's album flops? armand did it.

anyway now daniel is old and interviewing armand and louis in dubai?

armand eats suicidal ppl?

daniel causes armand and louis' marriage to fall through

that's louis' 2nd failed marriage

surprisingly not his fault either time i think

armand turns daniel into a vamp

this is signficiant because armand has never turned anyone into a vamp

armand is going to fuck that old man

that old man has kids apparently

and swore someone out on live tv

BONUS 2: daniel got turned into a vampire? armand did it.

seriously what the hell is armand's problem (said affectionately. i have a feeling he's gonna be my fav when i watch)

does lestat know daniel?

claudia may or may not return from the dead

if she does i'll blame that on armand too

is armand french or not? he lives in dubai. has a french accent (?) but also not.

lestat is french. louis and claudia are american.

surprisingly, the americans are the nicest of the bunch. rare american W

also can lestat fly? did he throw louis from like... a 4 story height? ppl on twitter were mad abt it like last year

are there any other characters in this show except the ones i've named. it's been 2 seasons. 6 characters cannot be all there is.

[yanderestarangel]

Do you write pregnant sex?👀 If so, gentle Dom Grandmaster Bi-han x self conscious pregnant reader?

If not, do not feel pressured to write. Sending love💖, your blog is great!🙂

꒰ ♡ ꒱ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐱 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐛𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐧 ꒰ ♡ ꒱

꒰ ♡ ꒱ TW: afab anatomy, lactation!kink, v!sex, soft sex, fingered, not revised, pregnant sex, mother/father used to refer to the reader, praise, soft dom!bi han, bi han!husband.

Bi Han was never a gentle man, your sex was always aggressive and practically animalistic, with Lin Kuei grandmaster growling and fucking you anywhere he could - however, upon discovering your pregnancy, he forced himself to be the more gentle.

He loved watching your belly grow slowly over a few weeks, knowing that it was his seed in there, you noticed his change, especially in bed... Your husband helped you relieve the pressure of pregnancy - in addition to generating a strong desire in helping to alleviate the milk heaviness of your breasts.

That night, he admired you in the dim orange light, watching you with your dress loose from your growing pregnancy.

"-I wouldn't want anyone to carry my child but you." Bi Han spoke cutting through the silence, standing up from the armchair while putting away the book she was reading-and reaching between your legs to caress and squeeze your growing belly.

"-Besides, you look even more beautiful with that belly, you know?" He continued with a playful growl, it was the few times in years or months that you saw him smile sincerely, he was anxious... But mainly, with such strong desires for you like that, round, pretty and so... Delicate.

Your partner noticed the milk leaking from the cleavage of your thin fabric, hurting them while you complained about the weight and pressure applied to your body by the natural process, so, he soon had an idea that could satisfy your needs and his as well.

"-Just lie down and I'll take care of it for you."

His voice was steady despite the growing lust emanating from him. Bi han reached out, gently grabbing one of your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, applying pressure to help release more milk. As he did so, he couldn't resist moving closer, his lips brushing your shoulder blade before moving down towards your neck.

"-You smell so good my bunny... And that little one inside you is already very strong... I promise to be the best father I can be." He whispered, practically moaning, his hands moved down, caressing your belly, feeling its softness and warmth.

"-I can't wait to see that belly grow even bigger and bigger, you just make me proud (Y/N), I'm the happiest fucking man in the world to have you." Bi Han spoke with his eyes focused on yours, his cold fingers traced a pattern on your nipples, until he completely removed your dress, his eyes widened in admiration when he saw your naked form, admiring how incredible you looked pregnant with his child.

"-You... will be the most beautiful father/mother anyone has ever seen" He then moved his mouth to your skin, sucking and teasing your breasts vigorously, he moved on to the other breast while his hand continued its obscene exploration of your regions bottom, finding the sweet channel of your swollen pussy, massaging the aching folds. With each thrust of his tongue against your sensitive bud, he slowly pushed two fingers inside your tight cunt, slowly stretching it. The sensation was unlike anything he had ever experienced; more intimate, but equally forbidden and beautiful.

"-You taste... so delicious..." Sub zero moaned, sucking harder on your nipple, extracting all the possible milk he could - it hurt slightly, but the sensation was extremely comforting compared to the pain you felt all day. His hands held your waist tightly as he looked into your eyes, looking for any sign of discomfort.

"-You are the most beautiful little thing I have ever seen, no lin kuei treasure, silver, gold or diamond compares to you my sweet little thing." Bi han whispered in your ear, lightly pinching your earlobe, he leaned forward, kissing you passionately, your tongue tangling with his, while his free hand went down between your legs, massaging your clit harder.

"-Let me know if I'm hurting you or if you want more." The combination of pleasure and intimacy was driving him crazy. His shaft contracted violently in his pants, stretching the fabric, with every angelic and chaste sound that came from your lips because of him, he knew how to relieve you-and most of all excite you.

"-Fuck, you really look like an angel now..." He murmured, unable to resist any longer; Standing right above you, he grabbed your hips and lifted you up until both your legs wrapped around his waist comfortably, he rested both muscular arms under you, as he lightly and slowly thrust his cock into your wetness, he was never so gentle with you... But the cyromancer had changed, with a slow and careful thrust, he closed his eyes, opening his mouth as he thrust himself inside your warm body, your walls swallowing every inch he had to offer.

You could look directly at every furl, every expression of his above you, how his length was only half inside you, how he didn't want to hurt you and just loved and adored you, every hot yet cold kiss placed on your face, every whisper of approval calling you "good boy/good girl" that he said between moans between cuts, was like a damn dream that you never wanted to end.

"-Ah- Fuck! So tight baby- Mmm-" Bi Han panted between each thrust, you could hear the wet sound and rhythm of his balls hitting your ass, how he was sighing beautifully as he controlled himself from slamming you into the mattress.

His hands gripped your ass tightly, lifting it a little before slamming back onto his dick, claiming ownership over you, he sped up but at a point where you felt pleasure, moaning his name loudly and cum - he loved you seeing it like that, pouring out compliments about how beautiful you were, how perfect you were, how you were his and his alone, his hips rocked back and forth rhythmically, creating a mesmerizing soundtrack for their intimate dance, however, even if he wanted it to last forever, he really needed to cum and especially to make you cum.

Sub zero grunted a few things, bending over again and sucking the sweet, thin milk from your breasts, pushing the head of his dick right into your G-spot, while you screamed that you were going to cum, he just sped up, being careful with your body and belly, encouraging you to let go of everything on him. He was there with you, teetering on the edge of release.

"-J-Just Tell me when... tell me when... Baby... Oh Yes- Fucking hell-" was all you could hear before milking his cock hard as you held on to one of his arms, your side in bed. Bi Han couldn't hold back any longer, the load erupted from him, filling his belly and breasts with hot seed.

His thrusts gradually slowed down, finally stopping inside you, he remained buried inside you, feeling every contraction of your pussy around his member. "-Ahh... That was... fucking incredible my love..." The grandmaster managed to say between panting breaths. With a groan of satisfaction, he pulled out of you slowly, his cock leaving trails of cum behind it. Wiping away some of the excess on your belly with the tips of his fingers, he leaned forward, placing a soft kiss on your forehead and remained sitting on your side, breathing heavily, Absorbing the consequences of the lustful and loving encounter between the two of you, Bi Han's mouth was dripping with your milk, as he sighed heavily, brushing away some stray strands of your hair, as he returned to massaging your stomach and pussy, you could see the love and careful with his brown irises.

Bi Han looked at you, marveling at how beautiful you looked, even covered in sweat and cum - He reached out, running his thumb along your cheek, catching some of the remaining beads of sweat. "-We did something special together, didn't we?"

©YANDERESTARANGEL 2023

[erzva]

⟡ general Jason todd headcanons and how i view and portray him in my works cw. soft gentle clingy needy desperate touch starved jay

‎

…

i need to start off with certain stereotypes/ways in which he gets potrayed sometimes that i hate with every fibre of my fucking being :

he’s not some aggressive horny flirty fuckboy asshole jock. he’s grown and too old for that hs bs. like literally he would think of that behavior as annoying, revolting and stupid

and he’s most definitely (and i can’t stress this enough) not a yandere kidnapper or a stalker or any of that weird bullshit (if you wanna write stuff like that do it but it’s ooc)

he’s literally so caring and sensitive and he would be so gentle and soft. he’d be awkward and wouldn’t exactly know how to go about his feelings for someone.

he knows what its like when no one cares and when you grow up in an unstable home or on the streets so he has compassion for outcasts, children, women, non-cishetmen and animals

he’s canonically a nerd. he’s literary and he used to like going to school and learning. ppl always get him and tim mixed up bc tim hated going to school whereas jason wished he wouldn’t have had to drop out

also obviously very much an intersectional feminist ! he’s read all the books abt it and is actively working against his indoctrinated misogyny yup!

he loves all women and has a little soft spot for woc, fat/chubby/muscular women, women with big noses, you name it. just women who don’t fit the stereotypical beauty standard in general

he’s scared and ashamed of how needy and clingy he actually is. he knows himself (unfortunately) and it’s not something that he can just get rid of. it’s pent up from early childhood bc he never got enough love and then from after his death bc of all the shit he had to go through.

this side of him will haunt him until he dies- again. he can’t change it but he sure as hell won’t embrace it either. it’s a secret he wishes he could take with him to his final grave. actually- deep down he wishes he would find someone who understands and accepts him the way he is and someone who he can trust to be himself with.

!! aroace-spec , bi (women+)

he is secretly so incredibly desperate.. desperate for love, intimacy, being understood and accepted, desperate to be touched and hugged- loved.

he’s just so touch starved, he doesn’t even know what it feels like not to be. what it feels like to be loved or happy, to be content. how to not constantly feel like something is missing.

he needs someone to take care of him bc he just does a very poor job at that.. also it feels nice being able to just shut off and not having to think about anything

he wants to be hugged and caressed

gentle touches

he loves forehead kisses and headpats or just your hand on his head and in his hair

he wants to kiss you passionately and deeply

prefers making out and hugging/cuddling over sex

all he wants is to lay in bed or sit on the couch hugging someone who truly loves and accepts him and never let go

switch with a sub/bottom lean

i think it goes hand in hand with him having a sub lean but he’s attracted to strong dominant people. preferably someone who’s a switch too

everybody knows this already but he LIVES for praise

praise him and he’s in heaven. you’ll literally get him to do anything if you praise him. want him to give you head? just be a little clingy and loving, telling him how much you love him and how good he always makes you feel and he’s already dropping to his knees taking off your pants.

definitely a service / pleasure dom

if you’re fem/afab :

eating you out is his favorite thing. he goes in like it’s all or nothing (to him it is). no penetration if you didn’t cum at least once from his tongue.

he loves it when you ride his face and use him to make yourself feel good. there’s not a single thing he likes more than seeing you on top of him.

he loves watching you go from humming and gently playing with his hair to breathing heavily and tugging on his hair- to whining, moaning and grunting while grinding your pussy into his face deeper and faster to finally reach your high

also loves it when you ride his dick. being able to relax a little and just look up at you feeling good because of him makes him moan so much

he’ll also pull you down a lot when you’re riding him just to hug you and hold you close and to hear you breathing and moaning into his ear

he’ll thrust up from under you as fast as he can just to catch you off guard and see your face in pure bliss. he loves it when he makes you cum in this position.

he also loves missionary and the mating press

you know he’s close when he starts holding you close and mumbling/whining your name over and over again

if you’re male/amab :

he loves giving you head and eating your ass and wants you to use him. it really gets him going. it’s bc of his incredibly patent inferiority complex and feeling like he’s a good for nothing piece of shit

he also likes being the one that penetrantes you though. he’ll start begging for praise even though he’s the one topping saying things like “tell me i’m a good boy, tell me i’m your good boy.” “tell me how good i make you feel” “please just tell me i’m doing a good job.” “wanna make you feel good.” all while his big tall frame is hovering above you and ramming into you

a whimperer. he whines and moans a lot, shamelessly. he grunts and groans too. especially when he’s a little bit too frustrated or stressed. and he shamelessly breathes heavily during sex. any noise that he can make will escape his lips. all in all he’s just incredibly vocal and he doesn’t care if people can hear.

he really likes handjobs. preferably with you sitting in front of him so he can look up at you but he also likes it when you’re sitting behind him and you say things in his ear while kissing his neck or cheek and sucking on his earlobe

but he especially loves it when you’re sucking him off and finger his ass at the same time. add a little praise and you’ll have him whining, whimpering and maybe even crying. he’ll be a mess

he often gets teary-eyed during sex because of how sensitive he is. and i mean both his body and his feelings.

he prefers frotting, handjobs and dry humping over penetration.

he wants and needs someone who'd accept him for who he is and wouldn't wanna change him. someone who shares the same morals as him and doesn't have a problem with him being morally grey.

he would want someone he doesn’t have to explain everything to. he knows it’s toxic and not really fair but he hates having to put his thoughts into words. he’s not really good at it.

so he needs someone who’s observant and pays attention to details. maybe even someone who can read body language. just so he doesn’t have to go through the uncomfortable experience of having to say that he’s needy and broken out loud.

he wants someone to pay attention to him and figure him out so well that he doesn’t have to ask for things and they instead know what he wants and needs at certain times and just give it to him.

he gets pissed and sighs while rolling his eyes when he’s showing clear signs of what he wants and you’re not picking up on it.

it took great cruelty to make him this gentle. but to an extent he’s grateful for it because he now knows exactly why it’s so important to treat people kindly and gently.

…

[mtkay13]

And here's my new bi-yearly Qi Ye poster! LMAO

The crown prince's party! Jing Beiyuan, Helian Yi, Lu Shen, and He Yunxing!

Oh and that other guy in the back, lol.

A few more details below.

Aside from making it look like a regal portrait, my main focus here was to highlight their personalities and almost make a... teaser? Effect? As in, give a striking image and idea of the characters to someone whho wouldn’t know the story or books.

It was a bit of a technical challenge since this type of lighting isn’t what I'm the most comfortable with. I also had to design Lu Shen and He Yunxing whom I had never drawn before. I'm quite happy with how they came out. I also find Beiyuan’s expression incredibly obnoxious, which is great, and I was happy to push and refine my Helian Yi design.

[glader13]

Saudade pt. 2

Part 1

Part 3

Bi-Han’s mind was in a haze, he felt unfocused in everything. It could’ve been because of the war, Tsung’s plans and army were making incredible gains, an act of true power. He envies it. Or maybe, the haze was due to Liu Kang’s foolishness, tainting Lin Kuei’s honor by making his clan, and him, nothing more than thugs for his schemes.

“Brother,” Kuai Liang’s voice broke Bi-Han’s thoughts, “You’ve been staring at this map for minutes without a word. Do you not have a plan?”

“I’m thinking,” was all he said, still feeling his mind slip to something else.

“About the plan or something else?” His brother pressed, causing Bi-Han’s annoyance to rise, who does he think he’s questioning?

“About things that don't concern you,” Bi-Han began, “And you forget yourself, questioning your grandmaster.”

“As your brother, I am worried,” he didn’t back down from Bi-Han’s icy glare, “For the past couple of weeks, ever since you returned home from that mission, you’ve been distracted. You won’t even tell us where you were for the night.”

That’s why he’s been in a haze, still smelling your perfume in his nose from that night. He can’t shake you from his mind, that night revealing the ache for you has never left him. He walked out of the room, and even the temple feeling frustrated at himself. Why didn’t he say more? Why did he say those things that caused you to leave? He treated you and called you a responsibility. He should’ve treated you like his wife, as his equal. You have never treated him in such a way, even when you were in the same situation as him. Doing familial responsibilities, but somewhere in the responsibility came love, and he didn’t know how to handle it, how to handle your emotions for him, and his emotions for you.

It became obvious that you were too kind, too sweet, too perfect for him. He had to let you go so he wouldn’t hurt you. But he misses you terribly. Bi-Han walked without a direction in mind, or so he thought. He found himself in front of your home, looking at your window, thinking back to how you were his sanctuary, a place where he could always clear his head. He climbed up your window, peeking into your room, surprised to see that you weren’t there. He then walked to another place where he suspected of you being. He peeked through the window of the medical center, watching you care for patients with a smile. You were so kind to him, and despite the sweet sensation that it gave him, it made him scared. It made him realize his emotional inadequacies. That night, he couldn't get it out of his head, it was consuming, always in the back of his mind. Despite his abilities, he was the one burning, being consumed by the fever, by the fire that is you.

He wants to put those moments past him, you behind him. He knows that he should, but he can't. He wants to hold you, to apologize. He never meant to hurt you, he just wanted to protect you. He let out a sigh of frustration, hating himself for his lack of courage. He couldn’t talk to you, at least not now.

As you sat in your medical room, your mind instantly went to the days you spent there with Bi-Han’s mother as she taught you everything you needed to know about being the grandmaster’s wife. Of course, not all the days were spent in there, when she was feeling strong, you would have your lessons in the garden, and the sign of her sickness would be nonexistent in the sunlight.

But there would be days when she would teach you from her bed, her voice was soft and quiet. You remember one day when she had fallen asleep leaving you to read up on Lin Kuei's history. But there was a point when the words were just words and every date seemed the same, spilling into each other. You eventually gave up on studying, letting out a sigh as you rested the book on your leg. You placed yourself on the floor, staring at the light’s shadows dance on the walls and ceiling.

You began to drift away, your eyes getting heavier. Instead of Lin Kuei, you thought of Bi-Han, seeing his dark eyes behind your eyelids. You could’ve sworn that you felt his hands sneak across your body, the recent nights together giving your mind the fire for moments like this. Your face warmed as a smile graced your lips, thinking of his voice and the sweet words that he would whisper.

“Studying hard?” You saw him kneeling by your head.

You nodded, causing him to quietly laugh, as he kissed your lips, before lying down next to you. He wrapped you in his arms, your face hiding in his body, being overwhelmed by the closeness of him. You kissed his neck, before tracing his jaw, then kissing his lips.

“Has she been asleep for long?”

“Maybe for forty minutes,” you say, “We were going over some more responsibilities, but we took a break, and then I read up on some history, but,” you smiled, “It didn’t stick.”

“Oh really?” He smiled, “Why not?”

“Reading is nice, but I need a tutor,” you murmured against his lips, “Maybe, some private lessons.”

“Straighten out some history for you?” You felt his lips curl into a smirk, causing your body to feel a spark.

“Then I can test her when you’re done,” her voice caused the two of you to push each other away, as Bi-Han’s face turned red.

“You were awake?” You found it kind of cute, how his voice was slightly shaky, even though you refused to meet his mother’s face.

“A mother hears everything,” she smiled.

How you wish that you could go back to those days when everything seemed perfect. Bi-Han was so happy, and you have never felt such love. You felt your heart twist with pain, thinking of the private moments when you would hide in medical books, trying to find something to help his mother, secretly working with her doctors. When she died, she took a part of Bi-Han with her, something that you tried to foolishly replace. But nothing can replace a mother’s love.

You remember the day she died completely, you were alone with her at the temple, still studying your responsibilities. She was quiet that day, barely opening her eyes and when she did, you wanted to look away, feeling something in your stomach akin to hopelessness. She seemed to be in transition, her eyes focused on something higher, outside of the world that you were in. The longer you were in there with her, your mind cared less about responsibilities, you just wanted Bi-Han to be there.

You remember the last words that she spoke to you as she held your hand, “No matter what, he loves you. Care for him, please.” But you didn’t care for him, you left him. He made it so easy to leave.

You left early that day, seeing that your parents needed you home. As you walked, you thought of how it’s been weeks since you had last seen him, and you were running out of hope that you’d ever see him again, thinking back to the past nights and how you stayed up in bed, with your best night garments, waiting for him. You were aching for him, and one night with him seemingly ignited a fire that you thought was gone. In your haste, you didn’t see him lingering near the medical center. But he noticed you, though he let you walk by, too stuck to talk to you.

You were rushed by servants as soon as you entered the estate. Your parents still didn’t mention why they needed you, all they mentioned was that a guest was coming over. You were immediately driven to your bathing room, bathing in the rose-scented water and soap. The servants then adorned you in beautiful gold jewelry that matched your red qipao dress trimmed in gold that had a slit on the side.

You felt sick at the sight in the mirror, realizing your parents’ intentions. Suddenly, you felt the longing from that night put you in a chokehold, chaining your heart. Once the servants left, you went to your jewelry box, taking out the pendant and the ring. You held them against your chest, looking at the spot where he slept next to you. Why were you clinging to him still, why were you holding your breath on a miracle? You moved towards your bed, sitting on the side where he slept, in your hands you once again inspected the ring and the pendant, wondering why you were still holding onto a man who so easily let you go, who so easily fell out of love? A knock on your bedroom door took you out of your thoughts before you could answer your question, your guest had arrived.

He sat across from you during the dinner, his eyes were soft, matching his smile. Everything about him was soft, from the way his lips graced your hand to how his eyes would lock with yours, making you feel so guilty. You wonder who he is seeing when he looks into your eyes, does he see himself or does he see Bi-Han? He’s an up-and-coming politician, and you have heard of him, and agreeing with his ideology and ideas.

He’s perfect, well, he would be perfect.

You engaged with him in conversation, not failing to notice your parents’ reaction, you could feel their eyes mentally taking notes, and you wanted nothing more than to leave. He offered you a more intimate setting, away from your parents. It was a boat ride, the lake was lit up by water lanterns, washing his face in warm hues of gold. But as you listened to him, you felt yourself slipping, going back to when you rode this with Bi-Han.

It was early in your relationship with him, and he wasn’t quite as talkative, but him being there was enough. He held you the entire time, making up for his lack of talking. He even made you a flower from ice that night, making it even more impossible to leave him. Such a small gesture captured your heart. When you look at the man in front of you, you realize that you weren’t looking at him, for him, you were searching for Bi-Han. Chasing a love that won’t come back to you, and that saddened you. But as the two of you set the lantern in the water, you felt yourself wishing for Bi-Han.

You returned home late, going straight to your room. Your mind was a mess of thoughts, and you needed to sleep. Torn between wanting to fix the past and not having your past destroy your future. You need to let him go, just as he did with you.

“You were out late,” you stopped in your doorway hearing his voice, “Why?”

“Bi-Han,” you said, feeling thrilled that he was there, “But why do you have to know? You haven’t spoken to me in weeks since you’ve been hurt. You haven’t spoken to me since our engagement ended,” you said the last part quietly.

“I … I know,” he didn’t look at you. He felt his mouth open wanting to say the two words, but they were stuck, so he said, “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you,” you smiled sitting next to him, your smile grew even more when he didn’t move away, “I went on a date, my parents arranged it.”

You studied his face, waiting for a reaction. But he had none, just a slight furrow on his face. You could have been imagining it, but you felt the room get a little bit colder. “Does he treat you well?”

“I only met him today,” you said, “So I don’t know, but I don’t want to talk about him. Why are you here, are you hurt again?”

“No, I was just checking in on you,” he said, “I wanted to thank you for your help.”

“No need for that,” you said, then took his arm, “It healed up nicely.”

“Only because of your hands,” Bi-Han said, his eyes drawn to your hands, how they were still holding his arm. Unbeknownst to you, your touch was a heavenly fire, keeping him alive. He has never felt such peace when you hold him.

“How have you been?” He asked, feeling himself cross a line that he swore to never do again.

“I’ve been good,” you began, letting go of his arm, “But better now.”

He nodded, moving his arm back so you could sit closer to him and you did. As you explained how you had just been in the medical center working, he felt himself thinking of your words: better now. Better now because of him, or because of the man who is courting you? He knew that you wouldn’t be single forever, that you would move on, but he still felt hurt. Suddenly, he’s in love but you’re not. Seeing your beautiful face, realizing that your soft smiles weren’t for him felt like a stab in his soul.

But as he told you about himself and the war with Tsung, he couldn’t help but open up, feeling as if he was put under a spell. He made a mistake, and it’s more clear than ever. But as he talked, looking into your eyes, he felt resolve grow in him, he won’t let any of those threats come towards you. If he can’t have you, at least he can protect you.

The conversation then changed, you asked Bi-Han if he had anyone special, and he shook his head. The answer made your heart skip a beat, filling your head with fantasies, what if he loves me still? It grew even more comfortable between the two of you as you drifted between conversations of the politics of the and between realms, to even the simplest of things such as trying to convince him that he was hungry, because who knows how long he was waiting for you? You felt yourself growing cautiously happy, watching him eat the dinner’s leftovers as you prepared for bed. Things felt normal, and it felt as if you were at home, at the Lin Kuei temple.

It seemed as if you were going to bed with your husband.

“Taking off your clothes?” You teased, “You’re just going to take control of my room like that?”

He looked at you, smirking softly. He seemed to be doing things differently, taking off each garment slowly, starting with untying the bands around his arms. You felt your face burn, but you played it off by rolling your eyes, which caused him to laugh. When the two of you did make it into your bed, the two of you didn’t sleep. Conversation about anything spilled out from your mouths, including how much you hated your friends’ updates on their lives which you were pretty sure was just to put everyone around them down. Bi-Han assured you that you were perfect, that their lives were nothing compared to yours.

And when you woke up that morning, he was there. You were up first for some reason, early sunlight shining through the room. You looked over to see Bi-Han sleeping next to you, his hair falling over his face. But what caused you to hold your breath was that his arm was draped over you. You thought that you were dreaming, but everything, the heaviness of his arm, told you that it was real. You closed your eyes, trying to make the moment last a little bit longer, a small smile on your face.

A/N: I just graduated from university, so I am super sorry for taking forever to post the second part, but there is more to come.

- @sunsethw4 @cwbylikeyou @heartsia @neadivana, hope you all enjoyed it, and sorry it took forever 😭😭

[nieded]

RR has quickly become my one of my top goto comfort fics (series in this case). I wonder what are yours?

hello! this is a really lovely ask. i'm happy that #rr is a comfort fic for you! i also found a lot of comfort writing it for personal reasons.

i think a highly overlooked fic in fandom that i love is (Slow) Burn, Baby Burn by orchidlocked, E, s1 canon-compliant, 278,780k. i think about this fic a lot, how prior to season 2, it fit so seamlessly into canon, how it made my heart ache, how i related to crowley from the opening chapter just from the way he listened and processed music. there are a lot of challenging things in this story that made me feel uncomfortable but in a good way. in many ways, it made me feel seen.

for other long fics i love dearly, i must also include The False and the Fair by @princip1914, E, AU, 173,064k. it's a captivating story that is brilliantly written. the author is a master at using literary devices and good foreshadowing, so it's technically exquisite as well as just being an incredible story. there's a point in the story (if you know, you know), where i had to put it down, scream, and take myself for a walk.

and

stalwart sun, wily moon by @dustandhalos, M, AU, 369,969k. do you want an incredible art heist story with well-thought-out plot twists, its own accompanying illustrations, and beautiful prose? well, this story is for you! i actually had the pleasure of reading this for the first time as a printed book, which was a special and amazing experience in and of itself.

these two fics above are rec'd a lot (and for good reason!) so here are two more that i rarely ever see.

Curse of the Witchfinder by KitschyKit, M, s1 canon-compliant, 2,244k. i have had many bi people reach out to me about #rr to say they were glad to finally find a fic with good bi representation. well, Curse of the Witchfinder was that for me. and on top of that, i love reading about an older queer because we don't see that in media today. in part, it's because young and sexy sells, but also, we lost a whole generation of gay men to the AIDS epidemic. there's something about this story that undoes me and leaves me completely exposed in so few words.

and

side effects by @darcylindbergh, E, canon-compliant, 7,704k. this is a story about being loved in spite of illness or disregard for illness. it is amazing to me how this is a story about supernatural beings, and yet it feels so human. it's as if someone laid me flat under a microscope.

and so i guess a theme to these recommendations is that i find great comfort in stories that bear the ugliest and most frightened parts of me with love.

[aduck8myshoes]

I know the writers won't give us an endgame wlw sibling, but think about the bridgerton family comedy they could milk out of that! Imagine:

In either a cold open cut-off or a cliffhanger, Cressida impulsively kisses Eloise and runs away, leaving Eloise completely blue screened. Eloise has no idea that lesbibabs exist, bc regency, and she is having lots of feelings she doesn't understand. She needs knowledge which to her means books, but where would one even find such a publication?

Cue Eloise trying to casually ask her two most worldly brothers where to find books about girl kissing. B and C spend a good 20 seconds looking back and forth from her to each other and going on just incredible face journeys. She's like, I just overheard some stuff and was curious this is not about me at all ahahaha, and they all suddenly have very important things to attend to that are not this conversation.

(Read more because this got long lol)

Colin has seen women have sex with each other in brothels, but he is an oblivious mfer that just discovered complex emotions last season, and probably had no idea there could be romantic feelings involved. So of course he goes to his wife about it.

Penelope is like, wtf, where is this coming from?, and Colin manages to not blurt out that it's about Eloise for a whole 10 seconds. Pen, who actually has a modicum of emotional intelligence, has heard her recently reconciled best friend complain for years that she doesn't understand why women want husbands, and is like, oh, some things suddenly make sense. She tells Colin to not worry about it and go to sleep.

Bi-nedict, who does know what a lesbian is, has heard his darling sister complain for years that she doesn't understand why women want husbands, and is like, oh, some things suddenly make sense.

Being the selfless brother he is, he heads over to the nearest artist orgy and asks around for some literature. They're like, oh yeah for sure, we have a zine club! (And then gets dicked down/pegged like he deserves.)

A few days later he gets a discreet delivery of underground pamphlets with names like "A Treatise on Human Sexuality" and "Like Yearns for Like: Observations on Attraction" as well as some he will NOT be giving to Eloise. (Zine club is very educational)

The less salacious pamphlets get awkwardly passed off to Eloise before bed and she spends all night in a montage of reading, recalling memories of Cressida (or possibly just women in general) being attractive, and working her way though her mini identity crisis.

At breakfast Violet sees her be like "Thank you for your... help. It was very... helpful" while not making eye contact with B, and mentally steels herself for whatever nonsense her kids are up to now.

For the next several episodes we watch them stumble upon Eloise as she attempts to get Cressida alone to talk (and then "talk") and have to try to keep anyone from finding out about the gal pals.

(Benedict going to duck around a corner only to see his sister sucking face and ducking right back out: Hey Colin and Penelope why don't we spend this entire ball standing right here blocking the entrance to this side hallway for no reason.

Penelope, who hasn't seen E in like an hour, putting 2 and 2 together: Ah yes, what an excellent idea brother-in-law! The view of everything in the opposite direction of that hallway is most splendid from this exact spot.

Colin, looking around, probably still oblivious: did Eloise go home?)

Anthony and Kate could be dragged into the effort as well at some point when they see something they shouldn't while looking for their own make-out spot.

And then when the drama hits and the relationship is revealed, they all put on their best shocked Pikachu faces while Colin finally gets it and is like, "oh wait is that why she was asking about-" before Pen stomps on his foot.

Violet lets herself give up for a full minute and just bang her head on a table.

[eye0fharmony]

I’m honestly so disappointed in Isaac in Heartstopper, because each season they keep doing 5% of what a normal characters’ progression would be in a single season, and then shove him off to the side when they want to focus on the couples again, completely ignoring the story potential of an aroace character. Hell, Alice Oseman themself is literally aroace and also wrote a book about an aroace character and you’re telling me the most you could do with Isaac this season is how he’s feeling left behind by his friend group as they focus on their relationships, only to then side line him to focus on the other characters’ relationships.

Additionally, at the end of season 2, Isaac finally discovers the word asexual but by the beginning of season 3 he’s already fully figured out his labels. Nick’s entire arc in season 1 was learning and accepting the fact that he is bi, and you’re telling me that most of the learning that Isaac does is fucking off screen??

I know and love that they tackled Isaac feeling isolated because his friends are focusing more on their partners than on being friends as that’s a common experience amongst a-spec people, but that conflict was solved by the end of episode fucking 3, so most of the season he has fuck all to do.

Why do we have to spend so much time on relationship dynamics that all boils down to the same basic things as about 500 other stories, and scenes showing that Solitaire is happening in the background instead of developing a character who’s probably a lot of people’s main exposure to an incredibly under represented group?? Doubly so because he’s a completely original character for the show so they could do literally anything with his character.

[evenmorefatallyobsessed]

For StungKnight, would you have Blake and Yang already together and then they hook up with Jaune and make it a throuple. Or would Blake and Yang be individually interested in Jaune, confess separately and he tells them the other has confessed and the girls decide to come together and be with him together.

And when they're together how would their relationship dynamic be like? Jaune the one in charge and the girls take a submissive role?

Okay so I've toyed with this idea a few times, the way it can go are...

1.) Post Vol 9, Blake and Yang begin to realize they want a male in the mix. And outta all the cannidates the fact that Jaune is Blake's literal childhood husbando and that he stayed with Yang's sister when she couldn't (And has never once used Ruby to get to her or leered at her like most guys would) kinda makes him their top choice (Also he is the anti-Adam and the king himbo)

2.) Also Post Vol 9, Blake and Yang are having relationship troubles, this is because both girls are bi, and Yang is quick to anger and Blake tends to be quiet about her issues till it's too late. This results in the pair every once in a while getting into fights... Fights that their teammates want no part in.

Unfortunately... Jaune has plenty of experience with getting between two girls fighting thanks to his sisters. And so always has to act as mediator, thankfully several decades (At least) in a maddening twisted world like the EverAfter means that he has a good amount of experience in dealing with incredibly emotional situations and he has the aura to tank either girl when they act out.

Eventually the pair starts to emotionally rely on Jaune and then get pissed whenever he starts dating someone... And well the two can easily put two and two together from there and decide for their relationships mental and emotional health Jaune needs to be Stung.

3.) Vol 2/3, after getting closer to his friends Jaune does a bit of info searching on Raven using his sisters to see if they can find out anything. Tells the brawler what he found out, clearly says that her moms a bandit and honestly giving birth to Yang and leaving her the hell alone where probably the only two good things she ever did. Yang would lash out, punch Jaune and leave. But Jaune would understand that he did just put a lot on her and let it go and after she cools down Yang would thank him.

Coincidentally too, after Blake reveals she's a Faunus who was part of the White Fang Jaune would put two and two together and contact her estranged parents. Weather they come to physically visit her or simply send a letter Jaune would confront her and appeal to the Belladonna to reconnect to her family because as someone from a large family he understands how important they are.

And while at first Blake is rather defensive she does become incredibly grateful after her parents hash things out with her. and more so when Jaune really doesn't think he did anything special.

The two proceed to like Jaune ask him out and almost turn rival over it but whether through Nora intervening or something decide to team up

4.) Volume 9 (Mainly for shits and giggles....) After Jaune reveals himself to be her literally first crush, main star of many a puberty stricken Blake's wet dream the young Belladonna finds herself suddenly very attached to Jaune.

Very in agreement with Pyrrha's views back in Beacon and suddenly oddly defensive against Weiss for the way she said 'Mature' Emotional issue with Yang? What emotional issue with Yang. She had no probably walking across said bridge...

And now Blake is realizing how Adam, Illia, Sun and Yang all felt a odd obsession over her because her's is now focused on Jaune. And that leaves Yang with a choice, get pissed and pull a Adam which she knew Blake wouldn't like.

Get Depressed grab some tea and Pull a Ruby before Ruby even does.

Or take a page outta her mother's book, no not the biological one (Raven), the sloppy seconds one (Summer).