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angelkiyo · 2 days ago

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complacer • k. sakusa

during a boys' trip to mexico, sakusa finds himself involved in a bet to get laid while at a nightclub with his teammates after going through a messy breakup. so what happens when he accidentally runs into his friend with benefits from back in college?

tags - drabble + nsfw/unedited, overstim if you squint, draft from august 2024, + ive also never tried writing smt like this sooo…

sakusa kiyoomi felt like he was suffocating, being squished in the corner of the nightclub with his drink while babysitting his three other teammates who were planning on who to hit on next. it was currently the off season and the four msby players decided to take a vacation to mexico to relax and have fun (it was all bokuto and atsumu after seeing some tiktok vlogs about a vacation to mexico). though sakusa should have known better, as his definition of fun was different than his teammates’.

“yer so borin’, omi.” atsumu had his hands on his face while he slurred, “single now, have some fun! i didn’t like that fucken bitch anyway.” atsumu took a heavy swig of his drink while lazily mumbling some shit about his ex.

“get yerself laid. there’s so many hot people here so take yer pick. i'm sure you'll find somebody."

sakusa just frowned at his teammate in response while serving himself and taking another shot of tequila. that’s right, he was single. he had recently broken up with his significant other two weeks before his trip as he found them cheating on him. so to cope, he just practiced and practiced. he honestly thought he took it well.

in the rare occasions that he is in a relationship, they usually last at max 3 months. it’s either “you don’t pay attention to me” or “does volleyball matter more than me?”. relationships after college felt of convenience, to feel something. sakusa felt himself lost in thought until he felt a cold splash on his chest and bokuto apologizing repeatedly.

the entire nightclub was hot and humid and it was summer in mexico so sakusa felt utterly stupid at the fact that he wore a long sleeve grey button down with a white undershirt. he felt disgusted at the fact that there was some sugary cocktail on his shirt and left to the bathroom to clean off before he could blow up at bokuto.

he rushed to the bathroom, cleaning the drink off his shirt and took off his button down, leaving sakusa in his undershirt for now. the constant bass of the reggaeton playing in the night club along with the heavy smell of weed and alcohol had sakusa feel hazy, his head feeling heavy on top of his neck. he decided on ditching his friends as he could always apologize tomorrow, he was sure they'll forgive him if he treated to breakfast tomorrow anyway. plus, hinata was the only one not shitfaced enough to at least order an uber. sakusa clung to his forehead as he bumped into someone who also seemed to head the same direction in annoyance.

“¡mil disculpas! -oh, sakusa?”

now that’s a voice he didn’t expect to hear in sometime. he comically whipped his head at the nostalgic voice and saw you, in your flowy, see through, navy blue blouse, black flowy skirt, and black little kitten heels. you looked pretty, meanwhile he felt that he looked crazy with how he was gripping a shirt that had an alcohol splatter on the chest (which was visible). the fact that he felt so hot and sweaty that his black curls clung to his sweaty forehead felt absolutely uncanny considering his aloof demeanor. an almost crazed expression etched on his face as surprise was all he could feel along with annoyance due to his teammates and the heat.

“l/n, hi.”

he didn’t have much to say, you still looked good as you did back in college. you and sakusa were friends with benefits. one accidental one-night stand turned into an every week thing. every time sakusa lost a game or got stressed over an exam, he’d take it out on you during sex, not that you complained. it was a mutual agreement. however, you were the only girl he’s ever felt nervous about.

“how’s life been?” you held a coy smile on your face as you eyed him. you played with the hems of your skirt as you looked at him with your doll-like eyes. eyes like you enjoyed playing with him, “you look bothered. um, were you-?”

“i’ve been good. um, im not gonna do anything uh-“

“oh um, i was gonna go to a bailé, if you wanna come?”

“um, sure.”

fuck it. it sounded better than staying at a hot and humid nightclub.

you two only walked a block in peaceful silence as the buzzing nightlife of the city filled the background noise. that’s until he felt a buzz from his messages:

from: miya atsumu

i see u lwft us yhu btich

if u ght laud ill desdass pau u 20 bucks

you opened the door to a ballroom club where a band was playing bachata, “im gonna go say hi to some friends!”

sakusa nodded and looked at his surroundings. at this point, the night went fairly well as the ballroom was decently occupied (considering the nightclub a block away was popular).

that’s until he felt a tap on his shoulder from you with a nervous smile etched on your face, “hey, would you want to be my partner for this song?” he felt his eyebrows raise, “what? i mean sure but i don’t know?”

it was almost comical how your eyebrows mirrored his moments ago. was he too blunt?

“i can teach you, don’t worry about it.”

right.

you took his clammy hands and held on his shoulder ss your other hand held his right, placing his left on your waist, “look, not that hard. just move your hips to the music and you’ll be fine.”

sakusa kiyoomi would consider himself to be a rather stiff individual. somebody who isn't fond of dancing or anything that didn't require him to be particulate with his movements (such as volleyball), yet when he is with you, he can't help but feel like putty in your hands. as he spinned you (or at least attempted to) amongst the colorful lights of the ballroom, you looked stunning.

"i look ridiculous."

you laughed and squeezed both of his hands as his footwork began to mirror yours, "wanna leave?"

he scoffed, "we barely got here." — "yeah but you don't seem to enjoy this"

your tone was teasing as you quickly bid farewell to your friends and took sakusa with you. just like that.

the two of you ended up heading to your apartment to catch up from college.

“have you tried speaking spanish? i mean to talk to locals. doesn’t your teammate, hinata speak it?”

sakusa shrugged, “not really and shoyo is just learning. he speaks portuguese.”

“so what do you know how to say?

“olá, como está o seu dia? that’s pretty much it.”

you nodded as you ended up pulling out a cigarette from your purse and your silver lighter. smoking was a rather nasty habit you had, since college. nevertheless, he’s the one who got you the lighter as a goodbye gift after college. you side eyed him and brought the cigarette box to his face.

fuck it.

sakusa had the cigarette and put the wrong side in his mouth, where you stopped him. "you're doing it wrong. have you ever done this before?" — he hasn't and you read him like a book.

you laughed and and took the cigarette in his mouth, "im not about to pressure you, kiyoomi. don't forget you're an athlete too. plus, we're here."

after a few flights of stairs, you two were finally in your apartment.

the next couple moments were a bit of a blur; first, you simply put your bag on the coat hanger next to your door, then you turn around where he starts kissing you on your couch, with one of your hands cupping his face endearingly while the other tugged and played with his curls.

you straddled him on the couch and kissed him as he massaged your ass from below your skirt. was it wrong to say it was nostalgic of college?

maybe, but sakusa needed a cathartic release from the intensive stress of his career and felt no shame going back to his old ways from college.

you lifted up your shirt to take to off, where sakusa felt his mouth go dry. you flashed him a smile and threw the blouse on the recliner near, “got them done a bit after graduation.” you were talking about your nipple piercings, the sleek metal rod gave a bit of edge and personality to the complete work of art that is your body.

you went back and kissed him with more intensity, your tongues almost fighting for dominance as sakusa had one hand on your waist, and the other caressing your breast. in his old relationships and sexual encounters, kiyoomi wouldn’t even dare attempt foreplay and kept himself at a boundary— god forbid they wanted to make out the way you are doing right now. however, with you, he was on edge all the time, pushing away his inhibitions.

“shit…kiyoomi.” you breathed out as kiyoomi started attacking your exposed breasts, his tongue swirling around your areolas and rods. he felt a wave of pure nostalgic euphoria hit him, intoxicated by lust at the same time as he felt you grind against him. the utter symphony of your breathless whines and moans was music to his ears, adding onto whatever desires he had at the start of his night with you.

your whines only became louder as he slipped his hand into your panties, rubbing circles on your clit, causing for you to pull on his black curls in utter pleasure and grind on his hand.

“please, let’s do this somewhere else.” your head laid on your shoulder as your plush legs latched onto his waist where he carried you to your room, throwing you on the bed.

kiyoomi threw his undershirt to the side and kneeling to look up at you and your blissed-out expression, “do you have a condom?”

even in your state, you flashed him a sly smile, “we won’t need them.”

he scoffed at your teasing words, taking off his slacks and sweat-drenched undershirt.

once he was in his boxers, you hung your arms around his neck for him to lower his posture to meet your lips, the sound of your lips clashing breaking any silence.

you placed him spread on the bed, crawling on his breathless form as you rolled down his boxers to be met with his cock, springing out towards his abdomen. it was slightly bigger than you remembered, with it being a little curved and its cute swollen pink tip spilling slight precum. still, you weren’t mad. at all.

you licked your lips and pumped at his dick, kissing at his swollen pink tip leaking with pre-cum, “god i missed this…”

kiyoomi didn’t know what to say. he was speechless. maybe it was the alcohol or the lust still intoxicating his system but this felt cathartic.

you began going in, giving his dick little kisses until you began to take it in your mouth little by little and sucked, causing him to let out the quietest of moans. as you sucked him off, you felt him gently push at your head, causing you to go faster. you began to caress his balls, which made his dick begin to twitch and him to whine. you maintained eye contact as you pumped his dick while you sucked, feeling spurts of his cum in your mouth as he released. “s-shit…y/n.”

you crawled back up and placed your knees to each side of his legs, “is it okay if we?”

kiyoomi nodded and looked at you with a glint of mischief in his eyes, “i thought we were, y/n.”

you smiled at his words and aligned his dick to your entrance and slowly went down, whining at the slight hint of pain that was brought by him slightly stretching you out. all you both could hear was the wet squelch of your pussy being stretched out by his hard cock.

“careful, y/n.” kiyoomi licked his bottom lip as he grabbed onto your hips and slowly helped you move on his cock. you attempted to move your hips yourself, gasping at the sheer pleasure when he began to thrust upwards. you grabbed onto his shoulders and then pulled on his hair as you felt the sensation overtake you, moving your hips side to side while he thrusted and rubbed on your clit simultaneously.

it felt too much for both of you, with this being the first time you’ve gotten laid since college.

until kiyoomi stopped.

kiyoomi flipped you on your back as he began to stand up, making you giggle, “thought you didn’t have this in you?”

“you’ll see.” kiyoomi licked his thumb and began circling your clit again before bringing your legs on his shoulders, “o-oh my god…”

kiyoomi slowly inserted his cock in your pussy again, adjusting to the tight squeeze you had on him. he began to thrust in you roughly again, making you moan as you gripped on his bedsheets. it felt almost overstimulated as he kept on, with said thrusting becoming sloppy shortly after you had reached your orgasm finally. it hit you like a truck.

you felt like an incoherent mess, grabbing onto his neck again to kiss him with more fervor, a string of saliva connecting your lips. it felt almost too much with the pace he was going. then again, kiyoomi was an athlete with an insane amount of stamina. however, you felt his thrusts become sloppier and the speed become slower until you felt him spill his cum in you, feeling warm.

he quickly muttered an ‘I’m sorry’ and became even more flustered.

you smiled as you threw your forearm on your eyes, “you’re okay, it’s okay.”

he slipped his cock out of your pussy, making you feel his cum drip out of you all cold.

you attempted to sit up with your elbows, softly sighing. he carried you in his arms to the bathtub in your connected bathroom, taking a bath together in peaceful silence.

———

kiyoomi has a habit of waking up early—however, he hasn’t gotten this good of sleep since high school.

he looked over to your blissful figure asleep and smiled. until he checked his phone.

“what the fuck?” kiyoomi ran his fingers through his hair as he checked his phone, spammed with several (hundred) calls from his teammates.

he kept scrolling amongst the barrage of “where tf r u” and “hello?” messages until he was greeted with a venmo notification from miya atsumu sending him 20 bucks:

i knew i could count on you ;)

#this was a draft from august 😭😭#so ooc but i wanted to expiriment #it’s buns #i just wanna get it out of my drafts lowk #haikyuu #haikyuu imagine #sakusa x reader #haikyuu sakusa #msby sakusa #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa kiyoomi smut #sakusa imagines #sakusa kiyoomi #hq sakusa #sakusa x you #sakusa smut #haikyuu smut #❀❀

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bbina · 22 hours ago

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a backpack is suddenly slammed against the table causing you to jump in place. in an instant, you looked up to see who just did that and there you see seunghan, who was breathing heavily

seems like he ran for his life to catch you in the cafeteria

"oh its just you hanie" you grin, shutting your phone off as you greet the boy who took the seat in front of you. seunghan grabs both of your hands, shaking them as he chants "TELL ME EVERYTHING NOW"

you let out a loud laugh seeing his reaction. you've sorta expected this already thats why you've been hiding an important information about you and his friend behind his back

"i already told you, it happened once and never happened again! though i guess that brought us closer" you hum, thinking about everything that has happened between you and wonbin for the past few weeks

something really did change but despite the no label, you like it

it's pretty casual to be honest. just spending time with each other at the end of the day after classes and what not. watching movies and meeting up after to debrief, the continuous late night snacking at the nearby convenience store, the comfortable silence inside your apartment when he would come over to just strum away his thoughts while you work on your assignments and the such

the mundane things, really

your train of thought about your new profound "relationship" with wonbin gets cut off when you feel two people sit beside you. it was karina and giselle

"sorry to burst your reminiscent thoughts about seunghan's friend but hey" giselle greets, giving you a side hug. karina does the same and swats seunghan's hands from yours

"you finally told him?" she asks, resting her head on your shoulder as she pokes her tongue out at seunghan who looked like he was a puppy who got kicked

"you really told them first?! when i was basically your bridge to wonbin?!" seunghan complains, covering his face with his hands

you and the girls laugh at his misery

"it's not that serious hanie! its all girl talk anyway" you chuckle

"but im part of the girls! you three are literally seunghan's angels!" seunghan continues to complain but nevertheless he feels at ease that you're finally happy despite everything that happened to you throughout the year

you four continue to converse yourselves, talking about wonbin til someone taps seunghan on the shoulder. seunghan looks up and gasps before making room for the newcomer

"oh shit sion! i forgot about you" seunghan stammers, moving his backpack out of the way so this sion guy had a place to sit

"you literally left me inside the classroom to run here, what gives?" sion huffs, sitting down next to seunghan

"guys! this is my partner for my practical exam! this is sion, sion, these are my friends giselle, karina and y/n!" seunghan introduces sion to the three of you

you finally look up to see who this sion guy was and your eyes widened yet again

it was the same boy who found your keychain earlier today

"oh its you!" you gasp in shock. sion does the same. you were the keychain girl he met in the hallway after your keychain fell off your bag

"the fuck? you know him too?" seunghan says, confused

you shake your head no

"no i just met him today. he found my keychain when it fell as i was walking to my building" you explain, showing seunghan the four leafed clover keychain that's dangling on your bag

seunghan scoffs playfully, "of course you'd freak the fuck out if that keychain of yours gets lost. it is won-"

before seunghan could finish his sentence, you covered his mouth with your hand to prevent him from sharing more unnecessary info to a new person around the table

sion looks at you and seunghan all confused. is he missing something? but he decides not to pry since he literally just met you three

"anyway! hello sion we hope seunghan here doesn't make you insane with your practical exam coming" you greet, welcoming him to the table at least. karina and giselle both giggle as they welcome him as well

sion shyly smiles, hiding his face

"oh, you guys don't know how he is in class" sion murmurs, loud enough for everyone in the table to hear making everyone laugh

"hey! that's not true!" seunghan defends himself, "i'm a model student in class you know!"

you all now start to converse among yourselves, as seunghan and sion start their little meeting about what song they would like to perform for their upcoming practical exams, you girls also added your input and opinions while suggesting songs that could work for the two of them. telling seunghan to credit the three of you for their performance to which the latter quips that he'd make a whole monologue at the beginning of their performance about how their performance would be a special one as his friends added their own magic to it when the day comes causing the table to laugh at the absurdity of it

after awhile everyone was just doing their own things and killing time. your phone suddenly vibrates. you checked the notification and it was a message from wonbin

[1:19 PM] binnie ��: tell seunghan to pipe it down i can hear what song he wants to perform

you let out a small chuckle. you look up, looking around the cafeteria to see where wonbin was at and at the corner of your eye, you spot someone waving their phone in the air. a smile is instantly plastered on your face when you recognize the person as wonbin

[1:21 PM] binnie 😡: found u hahahaha [1:22 PM] you: weirdo. stalker much? [1:23 PM] binnie 😡: you literally know i'm gonna be at the cafeteria today hahaha we just finished our own meeting. can i sit with you guys or am i in enemy territory? hahahaha [1:23 PM] binnie 😡: jk

you roll your eyes playfully at his text

[1:24 PM] you: obv its okay to sit with us tf we look like? [1:25 PM] binnie 😡: the mean girls. regina, gretchen, karen and cady [1:26 PM] you: i'm impressed you know the characters.. but who is hanie supposed to be? [1:27 PM] binnie 😡: damian?

you burst out laughing at his text, catching the attention of everyone in the table. seunghan, who read the contact name, immediately snatches your phone of your hand

"oh my god no texting your boyfriend when your friends are around!" seunghan playfully gags and makes vomit noises

"hanie!" you yelped, snatching your phone back, "why did you have to snatch my phone!"

seunghan shrugs, "probably because your boyfriend–"

"who's boyfriend?" wonbin suddenly inserts himself to the conversation, smoothly taking the empty space on seunghan's left, throwing his backpack on the ground

"YOU!" seunghan points a menacing finger at wonbin, "you're y/n's boyfriend! fess up now while sion's here!"

wonbin looks over at seunghan and sees sion poking his head out. sion waves at wonbin and even winks at him making wonbin laugh

"woah what the fuck" wonbin reacts, totally not expecting sion to sit with you guys

"yo" sion greets. he takes a moment to look between you and wonbin, trying to piece it together thanks to seunghan's whole tangent. "nice to meet your girlfriend?" sion says more of a question as he looks between you and wonbin for confirmation

you and wonbin shake your heads no causing seunghan and giselle to groan

"they're at it again" giselle complains, putting her head in her hands while karina laughs quietly amongst herself

you shoot wonbin a knowing look and he returns the favor by smiling

"SEE! THEY'RE LITERALLY FLIRTING WITH THEIR EYES IN FRONT OF US" seunghan shakes his hands in pure desperation to prove that there really is something going on between you and his friend

"just mind your business and make up your mind with the song you and sion are going to perform" you shrug him off, causing sion and wonbin to burst out laughing

alone together ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 . . . flirting with their eyes

── taking comfort in the thought that you are together in aloneness through late night talks, heartfelt confessions, and a genuine connection. with your shared experience of recent heartbreaks, you wonder if getting together would be all worth it. in which you find solace in each other's company, that you are alone together.

⋆｡˚ prev | next ˚｡

꩜ notes .ᐟ two people on board on the binyn train

꩜ taglist .ᐟ @onlywonb @rosesfortaro @starwonb1n @wonychu @totheseok @dolloie @hyunjinsnumberonefun @binluvsu @onlyhyunjin @annswwa @wonbinsvlle @hakkkuu @ilovejungwonandhaechan @artstaeh @lecheugo @odxrilove @bunni @saranghoeforanton @nujeskz @nakam00t @kyusqult @nctsshoes2 @s9nwoo @daegale @palchokitty @dutifullyannoyingfox @oshakyao @koryutte @b-riize @meowbini @peterm4rker @winuvs @i03jae @rsatoru @enhacolor @dalliesque @sweetiejaeyun @dearestjake @cupidslovearrows @sasfransisco @kkumistars @sngj08 @taroddori @ennycutie @sa3ha @koeuh @astro-doll-the-star @amouriu

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darlingkaveh · 3 days ago

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can i make a request?

aventurine with insistent reader who straight up doesn't understand his attempts to push them away. who just straight up doesn't care. ride or die type of thing.

of course! my first request ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡ ty anon ! and for u others out there, feel free to ask, too. check out my request info on my pinned

anyway, since you didn’t specify what gender the reader is, anon, i’ll just do gn and give ‘em an interesting personality, ‘cause i think aventurine deserves that kinda love. hope u don’t mind!

synopsis: aventurine has been avoiding you, as of late - and you’re set on trying to find out why. (ig this is angst? hurt/comfort, maybe…it’s not flat out depressing or anything, it’s just kind of sad when you think about it lol). pairing: aventurine x gn!reader tw: alcohol consumption, intoxication (nothing happens)

𝘾𝘼𝙇𝘾𝙐𝙇𝘼𝙏𝙀𝘿 𝙍𝙄𝙎𝙆𝙎

Aventurine was an interesting man. Truthfully, he puzzled you. You had met him through Ratio, who some might call an enigma - but to you, the doctor was light years easier to understand. He was calculated. The numbers behind his every move spoke to you.

The gambler, on the other hand, was a cacophony. A jumble of pitches that melted together into a song few could comprehend. And to you, that was a delight. A challenge. One much needed, to soothe your restless mind.

Perhaps that was why he seemed to dislike you.

Aventurine was not fond of that look in your eyes - the one that said you understood him. Or, at the very least, were beginning to. He was meant to be the one reading others, not the other way around. Simply put, it was unnerving how you took note of his every move, and seemed to use it against him.

It wasn’t as though he hated you. No, that was…that was far too strong a word. He was disinterested in being your friend. Yes, that was better. You were a nice enough person. You were sharp, kind, charming…all things that made you dangerous.

You had been friends, at first. But he had underestimated you - and had let you close. Too close.

“Haha! A straight flush.”

His opponent - a wiry man, with a weaselly face - crossed his arms in triumph after spreading out his hand. “Let’s see you beat that.”

Aventurine’s lips quirked.

“Yes, let’s.” He set down his own hand, revealing a royal flush. He smiled as he took his pile of chips, to the dismay of the man. His eyes tracked the weaselly man as he was dragged away by his peers, kicking and shouting. “Well, that was fun,” he chuckled, crossing his legs. He draped an arm over the edge of his seat, his head lolling back. “Anyone else care to challenge me?”

“I would.”

Something cold shot up his spine as your voice touched his ears, a tad too close for comfort, and he sat up, suddenly on edge. His lips rose in their usual fashion, though his smile was tight as he watched you take a seat across from him.

“…Ah,” he mused, “Ratio’s acquaintance. A pleasure to see you.”

“Isn’t it?” You kept your eyes on his hands as he began to shuffle the cards. “Its been a while, Aventurine, yet I see you haven’t changed in the slightest.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment, my friend.” He watched as you slid forward a large stack of chips - your starting bet. Anyone else who dared to place that much money into the pot, in front of his face, he would’ve called foolish.

He waved over an acquaintance, to act as the dealer. “Let us begin, then.”

“Let us.”

The cards were passed out. He glanced at his hand. It was good. Not that he had expected anything less, but it suddenly felt like a lifeline.

“Call.” He slid forward a stack of chips that matched yours. It was fine. He could afford to lose this much.

“Raise.” Your expression was unchanging as you offered more chips. He could feel his jaw twitch.

“Fold,” he gritted out.

“Not going overboard tonight?” You arched a brow. “How frugal.”

He forced himself to laugh. “Lady Luck might smile upon me, but I would rather not exhaust her goodwill.”

“A smart choice.”

He played through a few turns with you, narrowly winning. His hands trembled slightly as he reached out, taking his share.

“Well,” he mumbled, “good game.”

“Quite.” Your eyes glinted under the warm lighting of the bar. “Again?”

“Ah…” he chuckled nervously, “I think not. I’m a bit tired, you see.”

“Of course.” A hint of a smile touched your lips. “A drink, then?”

He couldn’t exactly refuse.

“Why not?”

He nodded at the bartender as he was given a glass of whiskey. The golden liquid slid down his throat easily, burning as it went down. It untangled his nerves, and loosened his tongue.

“So.” You leaned forward. “How’ve you been, Aventurine?”

His eyes met yours. “As well as I can be, I suppose.”

“Busy?”

“No.” He downed another glass.

“Then why’ve you been avoiding me?”

He paused.

“Avoiding you?” He glanced off to the side, feigning ignorance. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean. Don’t you?”

His tongue ran over his lips. “I suppose I do.”

“So?”

“Mm…” his leg started to bounce. “You make me nervous.”

Your expression contorted, before you laughed. “Me? Why?”

“You’re too smart.” The bartender offered him another glass, but this time, he refused. His vision was already blurring. “I don’t like it.”

“Ratio’s smart, too. You don’t avoid him.”

“You’re…” his lips pursed. “Different.”

“Hah.” You tilted your head at him. “And there’s nothing I can do to help you relax?”

Aventurine huffed. “No. Nothing.”

A thoughtful expression took over your face. “We’ll see.” Still, you rose. “Alright, then, I suppose we should go, no? You seem like you’d want to.”

“Yep.” He stood up, stumbling a little - not expecting his body to feel like lead. You grabbed his arm, helping him up. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

He leaned on you as you walked him home, head spinning. When was the last time he had gotten so intoxicated? The amount of glasses he had drank had blurred together, honestly.

He couldn’t believe he was in this situation now. Relying on you, of all people. The one he trusted the least. This was dangerous. This was bad. In this state, he was powerless to stop you from whatever you wanted to do. You could -

“Hey, relax, you’re okay.” Your hand brushed past his head in a gentle manner, startling him. “You’re in your room.”

He blinked dazedly, eyes adjusting to the darkness in the room. Oh. He was home. In his bed. He was…okay.

God, was he tired.

You rubbed his shoulder, humming a soft melody.

Before he knew it, he was lulled to sleep.

fin. not my best work, but i was eager to get this out there. aventurine’s an interesting fella, though i ain’t the best at writing him :’) if there’s anything i misinterpreted, anon, feel free to let me know! lmk what y’all thought.

requests are open.

#hsr aventurine #aventurine honkai star rail #aventurine x reader #aventurine x you #aventurine hsr #aventurine x y/n #hsr x reader #hsr fanfic #hsr angst #aventurine angst #hsr hurt/comfort #hurt/comfort #aventurine hurt/comfort #anon ask

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writella · 8 hours ago

Text

Here He Is, Finally

Synopsis: “When’s it gonna be my turn? Open me up, tell me you like it, fuck me to death, love me until I love myself—” This is a story about the inner struggles of a desiring Daryl who just wants to be free of the perceptions the town, and his own mind, have put on him, so he can love you and love himself, in the ways he’s always wanted to.

—or: As Daryl becomes the talk of the town, insecurity sets in that hinders him from having sex with you— the thing you most want to do.

Details: Daryl Dixon x fem!reader, ambiguous age gap, mixing early seasons’ + later seasons’ personality of Daryl, the town being mean but also thinking Daryl’s hot because he is, discussions of gossiping, insecurity, and poor self-image, Daryl fights someone :), and smut— unprotected + he’s nervous but then it gets good, and it’s their/Daryl’s/your first time in whatever way you want it to be.

A/N: He’s literally me (I’m a girl).

— With love from writella. ♡

There it was. You finally said it. You told Daryl that you were ready to have sex.

When you told him, the two of you were having a quiet morning and he was about to leave. Pulling yourself up to his height, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, and he took you by the waist, one hand reached up to hold your head, rubbing his thumb there. Good, you had thought, he’s reciprocating. That let you know he was okay, but still, underneath, you knew he was embarrassed about last night. You weren’t going to bring it up though, not then. You wanted to move forward, to show him that you didn’t care. “Daryl,” you started, words slow, uneasy in voice but sure in intention, as you whispered to him from above his shoulder, “I just wanted to tell you– that– I feel like I’m ready.” You paused for a moment. “And whatever you feel, I’m okay with it. Just talk to me.” As silence ensued, you kissed him on the cheek, “I love you,” you said, and pulled back.

Daryl kept his hands in yours as he looked at you. His features were sad and soft as much as they were unreadable. He kissed you on the forehead. “I love you too,” he said– it wasn’t the first time you two had exchanged those words– and then he left. Just like that.

You had no expectation for how he would react. You only knew he wouldn’t give you a flat-out no, so this, was understandable. But still, there was something hollow about it, even if his kiss and words were tender. It was another relationship moment that reminded you that these things never happen as they do in fairytale romances.

You see, you had always pictured him or whoever you were with at the time, bringing you close, kissing you, their fingers trailing down and under the hem of your skirt or pants, asking you if you were ready, if you were sure, if you wanted them to go slow, slower, but Daryl— as it turns—was incredibly pure, or at least pretending to be. Either too nervous or sensitive about these things, possibly inexperienced, or much more innocent with his intentions than you ever expected. It’s like you knew Daryl like the back of your hand, but when it came to anything about you as a couple, his history, who he’s dated before– you were clueless. You didn’t know what it could be.

One thing you did suspect, although Daryl has never told you, is that he thought of you as precious, something to be delicate with, like a flower. Sometimes you’d tell him he didn’t have to be so slow or soft when you were kissing– he was always a little sloppy anyway– and whenever there was a task to get done you’d be the first to tell anyone you could do it yourself, he knew this about you. And it’s not like he babies you or anything, that was never his way. Like when you two were fighting walkers, or doing work around the communities, or when he’s teaching you how to do something. You’ve even told him that he could be a bit demanding sometimes, grouchy, rough, and he agreed– that was true. He didn’t do it on purpose, the whole being hard on you thing. But alone? When he was on top of you or you over him? Waking up to you? Feeling your hand reach for his own in the dark? Even just eating dinner with you? The guy was a mess! A little boy, even. Heart racing. Eyes averted at times.

Whenever he nipped you, on the lips, or the neck, maybe he pushed you on the bed too hard, grabbed your waist too tight that it squeezed the bone, there were always silent apologizes of gentle circles, sweet kisses, and tongue licks to soothe the pain or possible bruises he left on you. And sometimes, when you’re home alone or you shower together, and he starts to kiss you or pull you in by the waist, he almost always sets out with the intention that this time he’d finally do it— the sex thing— he always wanted to. Only if you knew! Honestly, he’d feel like such a pervert if he let you know how many times, both before and after you got together, that he’s thought of being inside you, or you on your knees for him, or him kissing up your thighs and tasting you– he genuinely thinks he’d really like it, all of it, but especially that. But every time you’ve kissed and kissed enough, he’d get too overwhelmed about how to proceed or too nervous to even try. He tells you that you two should shower or go to bed or that he has to go for whatever reason. So all you’ve done is grind on each other, a lot, but that’s about it. You know he’s gotten hard and you’ve gotten wet, but you’re not sure if he’s ever noticed. He wants to put his hands in your pants, he wants to rip your blouse, he wants to squeeze your tits and slap your ass, but every time he thinks about actually doing it, he feels it's too forward or raunchy, or maybe it's not actually like him in the way he’s pictured in his head, or maybe you’d hate it, and specifically the way he did it. And he has thought about doing it slowly, romantically, but every time he thinks about doing that, he feels stupid, thinking he’ll come off as clumsy and pathetic to you. He doesn’t exactly get the concept of slow and sexy yet— reaching up, breathing you in, letting his fingers linger, or hands caress and massage. It’s not that he couldn’t do it though, or so he thinks, if he really tries; it's that doesn’t even think he’s sexy to begin with.

The only thing Daryl knows for sure are the things people call him when they think he’s not listening.

“Deep and… grunty,” one much too young girl said to her equally young friend who giggled, indicating her agreement even if she was too afraid to verbalize it. “I just like his voice,” the first girl said, “it’s sexy.” Or, “Wild,” as one of Aaron’s friends whispered to him, “Like he could throw me around, do it in front of the whole town, and wouldn’t care who saw.” To which Aaron scoffed and replied, “That’s literally my fucking friend.” But in truth, it’s not like he hadn’t thought about it himself, how Daryl looked underneath his vest and button-downs– it was just once though!– he promises!– as if he needed to explain it to himself. He even told his husband about it; they had agreed on Daryl’s attractiveness. Eric called it “rugged,” and they laughed about it over dinner. Now, Aaron would repeat that word as he overheard another group of ladies discussing ways to describe or trademark some of the male leaders in town. As Aaron passed by, “rugged,” was his suggested alternative to the word “beast” when one older lady described Daryl, in a way that would make anyone not a part of the conversation cringe, “Beast, sexy armed beast.” But Aaron was only met with silence and weird hums until a girl replied that “sexy armed rugged,” doesn’t make any sense. To that, all the ladies agreed. As Aaron walked away, wanting nothing more with this kind of conversation about his friends, he caught the new suggestion: “Daddy,” a girl had said with the widest smile on her face— she wasn’t a teenager, but it was obviously her first time being vocal about these things. She must have felt she said something so salacious. And as much as Aaron wanted to gag, there was also a part of him that reluctantly stopped himself from laughing and blushing with the rest of the woman. One of them rolled her eyes saying, “They can’t all be daddy,” to which another girl said, “But they kind of are!” and then he was too far away to hear anymore.

Daryl didn’t get any of it.

The only ones that truly bothered him though were when they added, “I know he’s a little ugly but,” or “I know he’s not my type but,” or “I know he looks a little dirty but,” “And he never does his hair but,” “And he’s not like the smartest but,” but, but, but—

It all made him feel bad about himself; more confused.

Even when it was just generally flattering, he found it hard to take any of it as a compliment. Sometimes he would, maybe the whispers of him being “kinda hot,” on the days when he’d return to his cut-off sleeved shirts, or maybe those moments when a lady would be talking to her friend saying how he’s “handsome,” or how she just knows “he’s packing–big–” and what’s better than a big dick, right? At least that is what Daryl thought– it's the bit of Merle in him– and he bets Negan wished he had one— Daryl was pretty sure Negan’s is a tiny little bitch just like his personality. No one gets to kill one of his best friends and gets more than a three-incher. Right, J.C.? If you’re even up there? Not that Daryl would mind if you were or weren’t, or cares if you did, he wouldn’t mind– Daryl didn’t think about religion that much anymore. And on that note, he realizes that he doesn’t do a lot of the same things he used to anymore. Like the way he would walk around without a care, even confidently sometimes, not thinking about how much he swung his arms or the way he talked or the way his hair fell that day. There was this one time, as he was walking over to Rick in the garden, telling him he couldn’t find whatever particular tools Rick wanted, he yelled, “They ain’t there no more, Rick!” that he heard some older guy say to his friend that Daryl sounded like a “human gremlin,” to which the friend tried to one-up him by saying, “more like a garbage disposal.” Then another day, some girl said he looks like a “wet rat sometimes,” especially when his hair is flat or, as said in the phrase, wet; and he never forgot it, either of them or anything anyone has ever said about him. It’s always been like this. Even when he was a kid.

Daryl tries to remember that people have just gotten too comfortable now that Alexandria is back on track, at least that’s basically what you had said. One day, Daryl came into your room, huffing and throwing himself on your desk chair, saying, “Some people don’t know how to keep their mouths shut.” To which you had asked him what was wrong, but he shook his head.

“Well,” you begin, responding to his un-answer, “some gossip is misogynized. It used to be a way for women to spread information, but–” you avoid the lecture— “I get what you mean.” You look at him, seeing the way his eyes still drift. “I can’t tell you everything, but Rosita and I had heard some people speculate on the whole her and Saddiq and Gabriel thing.” You shook your head, your eyes rolling a little, “It made her upset. I could tell. But it took her a while to talk about it. I think some people forget they can talk behind closed doors now. Our porches aren’t as private as they used to be, and people have gotten mean.” To that, you both nodded in agreement and then you climbed toward the edge of your bed to hold his hand. Something was obviously wrong. “Has anyone said anything about you?”

Again, he shakes his head and you have to leave it at that— all he wanted to do was ask questions about you now, and he wouldn’t let you change the subject.

But at home, alone, he stares at the mirror, trying to see what other people see: handsome, rugged, possibly wild… but all he saw were things he didn’t l understand, things that made him feel he wasn’t good enough. Did they really think he was attractive? And if so, why did they always have to bring up that there was something completely unattractive about him before the compliment? And why were those remarks always easier to believe? Or was it all just some weird fantasy they felt dirty about having? And was being rude behind his back was some sort of justification for it? Was it all of them above? Most importantly, did you think any of this?

Next Saturday, a week after you told him you were ready, the town gathered in the church during the evening for the monthly communal meal. This was something that started during the rehabilitation of Alexandria, another thing that the population was getting too big to contain, but Rick and Judith liked it. So, Michonne agreed to keep it— for now— despite reasoning that “this is what holidays are for, Rick.”

It was about an hour in, 6pm and sunset now past. Some people who had been busy working were still filing in, little by little, but for the most part, a majority of citizens were seated, eating, and chatting. There was a steady rain outside that made everything smell fresh, and if it wasn’t for all the chatter, you could even possibly hear the light drumming on the church walls. Everyone was quite pleased about it, spring seemed to be coming early.

Daryl had not come to see you last night and left early this morning so you didn’t know where he went or what he did, but what you did know for certain is that he never carried an umbrella. Therefore, when he finally arrived, 30 minutes later, his hair was soaked, and since he didn’t even wear his jacket, the long sleeves of his shirt were drenched with water droplets sticking to his vest and shoes that sloshed and left wet footprints on the wooden floor.

Obvious to say, he was noticed by all.

There is a fine line with Daryl between not giving a fuck about how he was perceived, and caring far too much while not willing to do anything about it, and of course, with all that has happened in the past few weeks, it was the ladder. He hated being the center of attention, but it was hard for him to not be noticeable, it never was, especially now. He felt ridiculous.

As he walks onto the stage– where all the tables of food are placed– you follow him.

“Hi,” you say next to him.

“Hi,” he replies, calling you by your nickname kindly enough, but not ever looking at you.

“You know, I think Rick was hoping you were coming back on time. I don’t know why he put all that stuff on his chair if it wasn’t for you or Michonne and Michonne sat with me.”

He simply nods, humming as acknowledgment.

“Daryl,” you move to the other side of the table as he gathers his food so he can look at you. Quietly you say, “We don’t have to talk about it now, but– I hope I didn’t make you feel uncomfortable the other day. Or if it was about the night before, you just have to tell me.” You poke his shoulder, “You’re acting weird and you know it.”

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable,” is all he grumbles.

“But I still want to say I’m sorry if I did.”

Daryl quickly finds some napkins to dry his hands and wrists with and comes over to place them on the sides of your head to kiss you there. “You ain’t got anything to be sorry about. Alright? I’m fine.” His hands drop and holds you by the neck for a moment, the movement makes some water droplets bleed onto your clothes, you feel it but you say nothing. The only thing Daryl notices from you is that your eyes look almost identical to his despite the differing color– his mood is affecting yours, but he doesn’t know what to say right now to make you feel better so he opts for something he always know is true, “You’re perfect. You know that right?” And I’m just fuckin’ weirdo, he wants to add, but he doesn’t.

You were smiling at him. He doesn’t get it. He looked like an idiot all soaking wet and you were smiling at him. There couldn’t be a better reaction, but still, it’s moments like this where he can’t believe you’re real. All you say is “Okay,” never taking a compliment, just like him, instead of finding a way to break-up with him like he always nearly suspects. “Come to me when you finish, alright? We can leave if you want?”

“Alright,” he responds and you leave him be.

As Daryl goes down the rows of tables picking out what he wants, he heads to the last one. The way the event was set up was that everyone who came early had the opportunity to take a seat at one of the four tables that were placed along each corner of the stage and the rest sat in the pews, but despite the higher vantage point the stage gave, that did not mean Daryl couldn’t hear what those around the stage were saying around him— as always. It must be a hunter’s ear or something.

“Be careful,” a woman says smirking, her eyes gesturing to Daryl. “Let’s hope he doesn’t wet us.” The friend in front of her snickers, looking back to see that Daryl is now by the table just above theirs. Whispering, the first woman continues, shaking her head, “I don’t know how Rick or the girl put up with it. She just acted like nothing was wrong. He’s mudding up the whole damn church!”

Daryl keeps his back turned. This ends up being his last straw. “How about you shut the fuck up,” he mutters.

“Excuse me?”

Louder, facing no one in particular he yells, “Why does everyone act like I don’t got ears?”

You look up, synchronized with everyone in the church and get up with Rick who is already slowly approaching him, but Michonne yanks you down.

“What is your problem?”

To that, he turns back to the woman, “How ‘bout you say what you said again and stop talking shit under your breath.”

“What?”

“I said,” he starts yelling again, “if you got somethin’ to say about me lady, say it to ma’ face. That’s what I said.”

“Hey, what’s goin’ on?” Rick asks almost warningly, but not before someone yells, “Who the fuck are you talking to, man?” from one of the aisles in the back. It was her husband, now standing from his seat. He and his wife make eye contact, and instantly he’s moving closer.

Daryl walks to the edge of the front stage, barking a quick “move” without any pause and Eugene and Siddiq violently bob their heads and grab their plates as Daryl steps on the table and jumps to the floor.

Rick tries to push him back but it’s no use, Daryl pushes him in return and he and the husband are charging at each other, speaking over each other: “What did you say to my wife?” “Told her to shut the fuck up. Thought I said it loud enough–” “Nah, man you were mumblin’ like always–” “Or d’you need me to say it louder with ma garbage disposal mouth?” Daryl pushes him, “Huh?” “I’m not fighting you, man.” But Daryl persists, getting in the man’s face, their noses almost touching. He whispers, “You know, maybe your wife’s got everyone’s name in her mouth because she don’t fuckin’ like you.” The man keeps shaking his head, but Daryl surprises him, he isn’t the only one the town gossips about. “She’s fucking Mark,” he tells him. That was true, and people knew it. “He’s your friend, ain’t he? Maybe that’s why she’s always–” But no, not him, her husband did not know, so he punches, straight in the eye. Daryl almost smiles as he takes the next swing.

The two are tussling, but not for long as Rick takes the chance to get Daryl from behind, taking him away with Gabriel’s help. “You done?” Rick asks as Gabriel holds him on the other side, His grip honestly does nothing though and Daryl shrugs him off. Poor Gabe looks like he’s about to have an aneurysm to see the church– practically his church– in such disarray.

With that, and with Daryl raging too much to contain, he shrugs Rick off and stomps out.

Michonne finally takes her hand off of your wrist and you make you way to leave too. As you walk, you look back to Rick who is already trying to follow, and wordlessly tell him that it’s your turn now, then, turn to awkwardly dodge the people still standing in the aisle and collect your things to go.

Daryl was not hard to find. It almost made you think he wanted to be found or knew you’d go after him— he’s being such a child today. Despite the town lights, you hold out your flashlight to find him sits on a tree stump on the edge of town next to one of his favorite trees. The leaves did a terrible job of covering him from anything but you knew he didn’t care. It was almost laughable honestly. Still, you take pity, he was yours and you were concerned. “I know you don’t care about getting wet,” you say with no malice or disappointment in your voice, “but all that water in your shoes can cause blisters. You didn’t even wear the ones that don’t have holes.”

He just shakes his head, as always, and water droplets fall from the tips of his hair.

“Remember when that happened to me and you drained them with needles even though Saddiq told us not to?”

He stares at you, stone-faced for a moment. “You’re the one who told me to do it.”

“Because they hurt really bad!”

“You were being a baby.”

“Really?” You ask ironically. “So if I’m the baby why are you acting like one right now? It’s been raining since morning, Daryl! Not even a jacket? You’re obviously upset about something but I’m not going to continue this with you in the rain, looking like a sad, wet puppy.”

He sneered at the comment, wet.

“Let’s just go home, okay? Let me take you.”

“We don’t live together.”

You frown. “Don’t be mean, Daryl,” you gently warn. “You know what I mean.”

You hold your hand out for him, water collecting in your palm as you wait. It was more of a gesture than actual help as you two were still a few feet away from each other. “Please? You could have already ran away on your bike or gone home and locked your door but you didn’t. I don’t know what’s going on but don’t act like I don’t know you.”

Reluctantly, he gets up, walking to you in almost slow motion. You wish you could call him the drama queen he is right now, but it was time to get out of this rain– you would hold it in for the time being.

As you enter the small place, you make no conversation. You simply get to work and he doesn’t stop you. You take off your rain jacket and boots, then you take off his vest and boots. You drag him to his room and hang up your sweater and take off your jewelry, then you empty his pant pockets. Finally, you hold his hand as he trails behind you and into the bathroom. You unbutton his shirt and unzip his pants and place them all in the hamper. He takes off his underwear and helps you take off your clothes too. When you’re done, you turn on the water and go in, he follows. You bathe and wash his hair in silence. You are tender and gentle, and he knows it, he appreciates it, but his mind is loud, and angry, and he feels so pathetic as you wash him like he’s 5 years old. You turn around to start washing yourself as he takes care of cleaning his legs and lower area. After he’s done, all he can do is look at you, your body, the soft humming you can’t help but do when you shower. It’s exactly as he said, you’re perfect. He wants to bang his head against the wall because of it.

When you two finish, you sit on his bed, wearing one of his white shirts and a pair of boxers, he wears the same except his bottoms are sweatpants. He hates these kinds of casual clothes actually, he’s only okay with wearing it sometimes, but he has nothing else at the moment. All he had to do was give his clothes to Carol to wash, but he didn’t. He hasn’t really done anything this week.

“Ms. Ellen is a bitch.” You finally say, giving him an ice pack for his eye. “And so is Mr. Gary and they both have the whiteness names in the world. And they’re both lazy as fuck and reek of nepotism because they only had one of the biggest houses and biggest egos in Alexandria because they were friends with Deanna and they’re still bitter that their house being destroyed in the fire— which I get— but it’s not okay that she uses her bitterness to talk shit about everyone. And it’s also not okay that you used your anger to fight someone who didn’t deserve it. That wasn’t like you.”

“Maybe it is. You didn’t always know me.”

“Well, sure, can act like a tough—”

“I don’t act like anything—”

“Fine, I’ll change it: Can you be a tough guy? Yeah. But do you pick fights and make big scenes in front of the kids like that? No, you don’t.” You stare at him, tapping him on the knee and forcing him to look at you. “You not talking is obviously not working, Daryl. Just tell me what’s wrong.”

He takes a moment. “I just—”

“What?”

“I don’t want to disappoint you,” he finally says lowly.

“I don’t think you could,” you answer, “I’m not even now, I’m just frustrated. Or confused really. Why do you think you would?”

He lowers his ice pack, “Cause I’m not fuckin’ Rick.”

You laugh a little. “Well, I did have my suspicions, but great, that’s good to know. I’m glad you’re not fucking Rick.”

He sucks his teeth. “Be serious.”

“Have you not realized I’ve been trying to be? For weeks now? It obviously doesn’t work.” Both of you look down as you continue, “And I finally tell you how I feel and what I want and you just leave and barely talk to me for the rest of the week. And before you even mention coming into my bed at night or saying goodnight or good morning to me and telling me what you’ll do that day, that’s not talking, it's just saying stuff. At some point I can’t always chalk it up to Oh, that’s just Daryl; at some point, a person starts thinking that they're the problem. That I’m the problem! That I’m not good enough.”

A tear falls down your cheek involuntarily, then another; you were clenching your jaw after you finished speaking but it was no use. After everything, all the bullshit and the girls and the punch to his eye that really fucking hurt even though it was his fault he got it, this is actually the worst thing that has happened to Daryl in the past months– making you cry.

“You’re more than good enough,” he says in his mumble, still not looking at you. “I’m just stupid.”

“You’re not stupid!” You yell frustratingly as you wipe tears away. “Stop talking down about yourself!”

Daryl looks off into the window. He wants to speak, he does. The words are all on the tip of his tongue but they cannot come out, they never do. As he watches you wipe away your last tears, he thinks everyone is right, that that guy is right, he has a garbage mouth, his voice is poison. He never makes any sense and he always says the wrong thing. Why speak anyway?

“I can’t help you or at least try to understand if you don’t say anything. I know it's hard— I don’t like doing it either. I was scared to tell you what I did last week. But it just starts with one thing.”

“It's too hard to.”

“But I’ve never judged you, right? ”

He shakes his head. You haven’t.

“The first thing that comes to your mind when I say, ‘what’s wrong?’, what is it? Just say it. I don’t care what it is. I’m not going to judge you, I’m not going to say you’re wrong, anything—”

“People think I’m ugly,” he interrupts, “I’ve heard them say it.”

Your eyes widen, in shock for him and in shock that people could still care about such stupid things right now. “Who said that to you?”

He shakes his head. “That’s why I mentioned Rick. No one says stuff like that about Rick.”

“Well, I don’t want you to be like Rick and you don’t have to be.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is?”

He gestures to himself, slapping his hands on his thighs, “Look at me.”

There’s something about the way his hand then reaches to cover his eyes in frustration, the way he slides it down to scratch his beard, accidentally magnifying to you the wisps of salt and pepper among the brown that gives you a clue to what he means. “I’m not some little girl, and I haven’t been for a long time.”

“I know, but you’re not my age either. And I don’t always think about you when it comes to it, it’s about me- I think about me.”

“So what about it? When it comes to the hair on your head and your eyes and the way you talk— that has nothing to do with how old you are, that’s just who you are. You didn’t choose to look as you do. And you and Rick have always looked the same age if I have to mention him, and his beard is whiter than yours at this point. Neither of you look old, or bad.” Your words do nothing so far. “You also have a better build than plenty of people in town. You’re stronger too.”

“But when they talk about Rick, all they say is that he talks too much and that he’s bossy and hardass and at least that’s true.”

You couldn’t help but smile, almost laughing a bit at that. It kind of was true.

“I’ve never heard anyone say things about him the way they say about me. Never anything about how he looks. But when they talk about me— they think I’m a fuckin’ animal.” There is silence after this. The word wild lingers in his mind and animal in yours. Again you want to ask, who could say that and have they not realized all Daryl has done for this place? Then, the more you listen, the more you realize that hidden beneath those with endless respect are some with hearts of cruelty and minds stuck in the regular old world ways that don’t exist anymore. “And sometimes, when I think about why you like me, I think that maybe it’s despite other things.”

“Despite?”

“Despite.” He practically spits.

“We all have bad qualities though. We’re not perfect.”

“I mean that I’m not some regular good looking guy.”

“Why would I want regular?” Your smile fades as his sad eyes persist. “Daryl, I can’t change your mind or make you feel the way I do about you, but why can’t you trust that I like you, and that I want to be around you? And that I’m,” you blush, “very attracted to you and I’ve felt like an embarrassing teenage girl the past few months waiting and trying to get you to have sex with me!” Quietly you say, “Have you not realized how much I really want you? How much I care? Everyday I feel lucky.”

He can’t take it. “Guess it’s like you said— can’t believe it if I don’t see it myself.”

His mouth is screwed shut, his throat tight, but just like you, it’s no use, a tear rolls down his cheek. Immediately you hug him. He holds you tightly in return and even though it makes your ribs hurt a little, you let him. All of this makes you see how much you two are alike than you’ve ever realized.

“You know,” you say into his hair, “there was this one time, I was up super early and couldn’t go back to sleep so I went out for a walk. I passed by Olivia’s house and she waved me over from her window and asked me if I could help her restock the pantry before Rick came later in the day to check it because she had this huge migraine. Well, that turned into me doing the whole thing for her. She said she was going inside for a break and some water and the next thing I know she’s asleep on her couch! And you know how her niece lives with her? I guess she runs in the morning and while I was finishing up, her and her friend lean up against one of the garage doors and I hear them talking. I was just about to open the door to leave but then she says, ‘She’s sweet but kind of a kiss-ass, right? Like a try-hard?’ And then her friend goes, ‘Yeah, she really wants to be one of them,’ ‘But all she is, is just Daryl’s little girlfriend.’” Daryl lets go to face you, his eyes incredulous just as yours were when he said someone called him ugly. “And then they started saying how I insert myself into places or something, so thought if I came out right then and they see me having done Olivia’s job for her… I didn't want them to get an up-close look of them being right. So I waited until they went in the house and then I left and for the whole rest of the week I was upset because I thought I was becoming friends with those girls but really I wasn’t, and I questioned if Rick and Michonne or Rosita or Glenn and Maggie even thought of me as a friend because they actually like me or if I’m even good enough to be one or if it’s only because I’m associated to you that they care to talk to me. I felt pathetic too.” You pause. “So, I’m really sorry, Daryl. You don’t deserve to feel like you’re being picked on in the town you live in— in the place you helped create.”

“It ain’t your fault.”

“That doesn’t make a difference. I should have said something.”

“You didn’t have to. I wanted that to happen.”

“But I wish I knew. Cause I would have if I knew. I feel like I let Michonne stop me because I didn’t understand. And all I’m saying is whether I've had it as bad as you or not, I do get it. And I’m angry for you. And you don’t have to be embarrassed to tell me things like this. It was dumb of me to keep my feelings in, just like you do with everything.”

Daryl swipes his hair to the side, parts of it are dry and waving while other areas are still wet, making him think about the rat joke. “No one likes you because of me,” he says. “You’re likable because you’re you and you care. And fuck those dumb-ass girls. They’re idiots for saying that.” He rubs your thigh. “I didn’t say anything the other day because when we were in the shower the night before I,” God, he feels stupid, “I got hard and you saw it and I realized it was the first time you saw it like that before and, I don’t know, I got scared.”

“Did you think that I’d think you’re ugly?”

“I don’t know.”

“Daryl,” you tisk, “after the amount of times we’ve showered together already?”

He gets defensive, “I don’t know! Felt different.”

“People usually get excited to know their partner is excited because of them.”

“I just feel like you’re gonna be disappointed.”

“Why do you always think that? I don’t have any expectations. I just want you to show me you love me.” You begin to look nervous, “I want to feel wanted too.”

“But I do… I do want you.”

“Then show me.”

“I don’t know how.”

You try to think, “Daryl— what is it that you picture when- when you want to do it?”

“I picture you,” he says simply.

“You do?” Your face is immediately warm.

He laughs, “Of course I do.”

“Well what do I do? Or what do you do to me?”

“Depends.”

“Pick one,” you say, almost desperately.

“Sometimes it just starts with what we always do. Kissin’. Maybe you’re on top of me.”

You waste no time; you get on top of him.

“And I press you down.” Daryl’s hands are now heavy on your hips, your hands are on his chest, you rock into him slowly.

“And sometimes I think about you bouncing on me or-” he pauses, the way you rock and the way he pushes up to you hitting a perfect spot of friction that makes the both of you gasp.

“Say it,” you tell him.

“I’m fucking you from behind. Or you're on the bottom and I’m going hard or being all gentle and shit like you but I don’t know how.”

“You know we can do all that, right?”

Daryl is red. Both you and him are surprised at yourself, but his bashfulness almost brings it out of you naturally. And honestly, your jacked and grumpy dilf boyfriend has left you repressed for far too long— you’re horny.

Suddenly, you move yourself onto one of his thighs and start palming his bulge as you rock. “Do I do this in your dreams?”

He almost groans, “Now you do.”

You move yourself from his thigh and lay down to start kissing him. He reciprocates, grabbing your face and pulling you close. Daryl starts nipping at your neck and you try your hardest not to yelp so he won’t stop. As you two continue, your slick starts to wet his boxers and you press your legs together as he gets harder under his sweatpants.

“Have you ever noticed how wet I get when we kiss?”

“Only at night,” it’s hard for his words to come out as you continue palming him, “when you don’t have clothes on.”

“And you never did anything about it?” You whine. “Do you know how bad I need you? How much I think about you?”

“I think about you more.”

“You do?

“Yes.” Daryl swallows, whimpering a little. You now stroke him, his dick riding up against his thigh, and it feels too good. “What- What do I do in your dreams?”

“You lay me on the bed and put your dick in me and fuck me and it feels amazing,” you say between hot breaths. “And you’re not scared to do it.”

“I wanna do it.”

“So, please, Daryl, do it. I want it so bad.”

Daryl uses your words as courage. He takes you off of him and goes over you.

You both take off your shirts and he strips you from his boxers and him from his sweatpants.

Finally, without regret or without him turning away you see his cock stand. It’s proud, meaty, and you can’t lie, a little scary, but you’ll never tell him, even if your widening eyes give you away. It’ll fit, you assure yourself. You won’t be afraid.

“You okay?” He asks, timidity setting in again.

But you nod assuredly. “Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

You pout, he’s stalling. “When you look at me, what do you see?”

“Beautiful.”

“And you're handsome. No pretenses. No exceptions.” You come up on your knees to face him, kissing his lips softly. “It’s like we said, we’ve dreamed about this.”

You lay down again, and Daryl places his hands on your inner thighs to spread them, making space for himself. You watch as takes hold of himself, mouth agape and pumping himself a few times as he stares at your body before slowly entering you. Your pussy is drooling at the sight.

Your eyes instantly close and scrunch. Although it worries Daryl, he’s glad you’ve shut them so he can continue looking up and down— up at your face to see if you’re in pain and down as he watches his cock enter you for the first time. You were incredibly tight to him, tighter than he ever imagined, he wasn’t used to this feeling and he liked it, a lot. It made his stomach clench and all his muscles flex as his breathing gets heavier, trying to stop the possibility of him moaning at the sight of it all.

“Are you okay?”

It was big and there was something about it that felt good but it hurt, the stretch indescribable, but you nod and tell him, “I like it,” because that was true, and everything else felt like too much to explain right now, your thoughts almost dissipating.

“You sure?”

You just nod again, whining.

“Alright,” he says, putting his hands on the bed to start.

Once more your eyes screw shut. He almost takes himself out before he pushes back into you again. He doesn’t know if he went slow enough but he tried. Your eyes wrinkling because of how hard you closed them doesn’t help though. He wants to tell you to relax but he’s not even relaxed himself to even make it sound believable.

He tries again, not going so far out this time and slowly goes back in to the hilt again, so slowly in fact he thinks that must have been awkward for you. He stops, tries one more time, then stops again. Your sounds seem like you’re hurt. He knows you’ll say it’s just pain and adjustment to his size but he instantly perceives it as disgust. He knows it’s not, but he can’t help it, he can’t. He must be ‘too much’; ‘too big,’ that’s what it is. Those are things he has heard in porn tapes Merle used to give him or things he noticed in porno mags he maybe used to read that he had found in a store near Hershel’s farm all those years ago, and supposedly it was a good thing for it to be too much, but now, look at you: you were in pain. And it was taking everything in him not to ram into you. He felt pathetic, again. Stupid, again. Like he didn’t know what he was doing. Maybe he should just withdraw right now, clean you up, try to give you a sympathetic look through his hair that said he was sorry for defiling you and not even make you feel an ounce of pleasure in the process. Everyone was right, he is a joke.

“Daryl,” you say, looking up at him, “you don’t have to keep stopping for me. I just need to relax and you just need to be slow. I think I can take it.”

“I know,” he responds, kissing your forehead.

“Close your eyes,” you tell him. “Do what feels right to you. You have to trust me to tell you if it hurts or not.”

He almost laughs at that. You think he’s so strong; that he has all the power. It’s so strange to him.

Daryl puts his head in the crux of your neck, closes his eyes, and tries again. He holds your waist, thumb on your ribs and the other fingers on your back as he pushes his hips into you.

You hug his chest and feel all of it. “Make yourself feel good Daryl, it’s gonna feel so good to me if you do that, I promise.” After his 4th small pump you let out a whiny moan of relief. “Oh- okay- keep going.”

Daryl moves his elbows to the bed by your head and starts pushing his hips against you, finding a rough yet steady rhythm. He loves the slapping sound your bodies are making and can’t help but speed up. He goes deeper and you start moaning. He already feels he’s losing himself. He tries to kiss you to slow down, but realizes he can’t plow into you the same way he just found out he likes. He goes back to it and he starts grunting and groaning— there is a part of him that is embarrassed by it but it just feels so good. “Are you gonna come?” He asks between sharp thrusts.

“Don’t focus on that,” you tell him. “Stay like this. Please.”

You didn’t have to tell him twice, he really can’t think of anything anymore than continuing to pump himself in you so he does. You try your best to rock up into him, but he has full control, his hands on your hips still as tight as ever as he pushes into you, making you and the bed bounce at his mercy.

You’re more than fine with it all. Even better, you couldn’t believe this meant that Daryl was about to come inside you. Something in you knew it was about to happen. It was the way he placed his elbows by your head and started cursing and ramming into you harder and even whimpered in your ear and gave you these little puppy kisses there before getting back to it. You were surprised by how noisy he was but you didn’t dare say a word other than panting and whining back into him so he’d continue, even in moments when it felt too much and too hard. He was forgetting all his doubts and that was the goal right now. You lock your legs around his hips and tell him, “You feel amazing inside me. My handsome man,” and that does it, “Oh, fuck,” he says as he releases every last drop of himself inside you.

Now, as he slows down, he looks at you, thumb on your bottom lip and chin as he tries his best to keep rolling his hips on you as he comes down from his high, but you ask, “Will you kiss me down there, Daryl? I’ve always wanted that.”

“You don’t want me to make you come?”

“I think it’ll happen if you do it like that. I just want to know what it feels like.”

He stops for a moment deciding if this means he’s failed or not, but he simply says, “Okay,” all kindly and nodding like it was your idea even though it was because this means another one of his dreams were coming true.

Instantly, he’s licking you, feeling more assured of what he could do— this was one of his most vivid fantasies so even though he doesn’t know for sure, he thinks he’s got.

“Oh, oh my god,” his tongue is bringing up wetness to your clit and sucking on it, “that’s good.” He starts licking your clit, going fast, “Daryl, that’s so good.”

He looks up at you, dazed already, “Yeah?”

“Oh, yes.” You fix his hair and he loves the feeling. Truly, he was going a little too fast actually, going up and down and this way and that way too much, but the sounds his mouth and your pussy were making together were too glorious. You let him go, you let him be proud, and either way, you’re whining and moaning because of it. He’s perfectly imperfect and he doesn’t even know it. But you’re too in love with the feeling of him to explain what that means right now so all you say is what he told you about yourself in the church, “I think you’re just perfect.”

To that, he stops again and he looks up at you, smiling. It’s one of those rare ones he seldom does, teeth and all, and your slick coating his lips all the while. His eyes are shining, and he gives you the smallest, sweetest, most innocent kiss to the most obscene place on your body— your clit.

At this point all your sounds have been short, quiet, filled with whines but to this, you moan at the sight, full and loud. It’s involuntary. It’s pornographic. It’s the hottest thing he’s ever heard in his life. His cock stirs, springing up again as he goes back to giving you your first and forever the most slobberiest head of your life.

After a while he beckons you from below, “Hey, angel,” he calls.

“Mm,” you respond lightly. You’re nearly blissed out. He’s going to make you come.

“I think those girls were right.”

Your eyes become so cute yet so sad— you just want him on you again. “What do you mean?”

“You are sweet. Sweetest thing I’ve ever had in my life.”

“Oh,” you whisper, moaning again as he goes back to licking your clit. “Oh. Fuck.”

He starts licking and kissing your puffy lips, making wet sounds with his tongue, slurping little bits of you where he can. He loves how slick and noisy your pretty pussy is. Your clit throbs and he hums into it all dark and grumbled and husky going, “Mmmmmm.”

You tell him, “God, it’s so good, Daryl.” To which he responds, referring to a different it, “And it’s mine.”

Oh, so he’s cocky now? Well, that’s new for him. You lay back at the thought, at the feeling, reveling in delight.

Here he is, finally.

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thecurioustale · 2 days ago

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The same can also be said of the period that I think we are emerging out of, the "Internet Wild West" or whatever you want to call it. It's something that I and many others have been aware of as far back as the 1990s (and longer for some).

On the early Internet it was understood by all who gave thought to the matter that this wonderful, new, free world we had created and were now beginning to settle would only be able to go so far before it inevitably got tamed. There would be rules. There would be law. The Wild West analogy was very prominent for me.

Where I erred, personally, was twofold: First, and at a more face-value level, I erred in thinking that this taming would come in the form of external regulation by the government. That didn't happen; the government in the US has mostly not been functional in the 21st century on these matters, and has done almost nothing to regulate the Internet in this time. (The few relevant laws they did pass have mostly been dreadful.) Instead, law and order came to the Internet because a handful of companies took control of nearly the entirety of most people's experience as Internet users—i.e., through social media, e-commerce, and streaming services—and, by controlling these services, they control the user experience. The people running these companies are the ones who have brought order to the Internet, not legally but mechanically through the user experience and through the enforcement of their oppressive EULAs and Terms of Service. The Internet wasn't tamed by wise, Enlightenment principles. It was extruded into obedience through a horrifying abasement of human dignity, at the hands of "tech bros" who, in retrospect, are a hell of a lot stupider than most of us thought. Even the smart ones, it turns out, were stupid all along. Most of them, anyway. I was never a fan of Zuckerberg, Page, et al., but I admired what they built—and in my defense what they built was once promising and new. But I was stupid too to believe in it like I did. Or "young" maybe is the fairer word. Hell, maybe you could apply it of some of them as well.

On a more abstract level, I also erred in thinking that the taming of the Internet Wild West would result in a new era of the Internet that was not a clear step down from what it had been in the Wild West years—that the well-ordered future would merely be different. Maybe, with technological improvements, it would even be better! And in some ways it is better: We usually don't have videos getting stuck buffering anymore. Files download faster. Certain activities have become much more convenient (or possible at all), like managing payments and making purchases and having video calls. But, on the whole, the modern Internet use paradigm is way, WAY worse. Because it is dehumanizing, radicalizing, and disinformative. And I didn't expect that. I thought humanity had grown to be smarter than that. I was wrong.

Yes, though, to the OP's thesis: Times of change do not last. With the taming of the Internet we have built a world that is far worse than the one we built ourselves out of. Now we're going to be paying the consequences of that folly for a long time to come. I for one am meeting this new world by gradually becoming so sickened by much of the online experience that I am disengaging from it, presumably permanently. I am increasingly refusing to be a part of it. I flat-out would not be here on Tumblr today if I were not trying to build an audience for my creative work. Not that I don't enjoy plenty of what I see here, and Tumblr is honestly one of the least-offensive social media platforms, but the broader landscape of social media, and the way it has poisoned our society, disgusts me so much nowadays that I almost can't stand it on principle. The Internet had so much potential. And technically it still does, abandoned deep down. But I don't think I'll see most of that neglected potential realized in my lifetime, and it may never happen at all.

As far as the OP's point about the unrealism of fictional settings having "times of change" lasting for long periods of time, I don't care about that at all. If you want to do a Wild West setting that lasts a thousand years, go for it. Every story is allowed to have its gimmicks and its conceits. Yes, some stories concerned with realism, verisimilitude, and internal consistency would be restricted from depicting a transitional period as a long-lasting, "stable" period. (There's really no such thing as a "stable" period; there are only times when change is modest and repetitive enough to be gentle and familiar. Maybe there's some room to argue about this on the basis of the notion that the pace of change has increased steadily throughout human history as our population and technology have increased, but even that wouldn't really be able to make any claims about stability in the past three thousand years, and certainly not in the past fifteen hundred.) But most stories are not going to be encumbered by this limitation, and can do whatever they like.

There are certain very specific, unsustainable periods of history.

The Golden Age of Piracy lasted from the 1650s to the 1730s, and was really three different waves of piracy that all had their own specific causes and characters. My personal favorite has always been the post-Spanish Succession period, when a bunch of sailors and privateers were left unemployed and turned en masse to piracy since those were the skills they'd picked up during the war. This supply of pirates was obviously non-renewable.

The Wild West lasted between 1865 and 1895, depending on who you ask, not even a full human lifetime. It's a very narrow band of time, and of course it wasn't sustainable, there was only so much land to colonize.

There are lots of these times of change, conquest, colonization, and war, particularly in the last three hundred years. I always think they're interesting, mostly in how quickly the course of history moves on to some other relatively more steady state.

There's a thing that speculative fiction does where it stretches specific periods out to extremes, most notably with Medieval Stasis, but I think it's far funnier when applied to these tiny slices of history that have ballooned in the public consciousness. Either it takes heroic feats of worldbuilding to make it make sense, or everyone is just sort of okay with the idea of a Golden Age of Piracy that's implied to have lasted for a millennia.

#Philosophy of Internet #Philosophy of history #Philosophy of writing #Internet Wild West

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cha-melodius · 17 hours ago

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#16, Alex/Henry?

(Also requested by @firenati0n. I feel like there were two obvious options for this one: post-leaks in canon, or post-rescue mission of some kind. You can probably guess which one I chose. 😂 read all the hug ficlets)

Firstprince, 16: The “it’s okay, I’m here” hug.

Add’l note: This is more or less a tiny sequel to So Close to Something Better Left Unknown. You don’t have to have read the fic to read this ficlet, but it does contain minor spoilers for the very end of said fic.

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

When Henry gave him the watch, it was half a joke and half because Henry’s in love with him and his hopeless heart latched onto the slim chance to keep an eye on him, at least from a distance. He’d expected Alex to leave it behind, or disable the tracker, or at the very least not wear it, but as far as he can tell, Alex had done none of those things. The tracker bops around the globe, giving Henry far too much information on CIA missions merely through its location. Not that Henry would ever pass on that information to his own agency, or anyone else for that matter.

That Alex trusted him not to, to keep his secrets… Well, it means a lot.

He assumed that at some point his own work would bring him within striking distance of Alex again, and he’d make use of the tracker to find him and… oh, hell, he doesn’t know. Say hello? It sounds absurd for a spy, but it’s pretty much all he could hope for. But before that happens, the tracker gets stuck for a week in a remote part of Guatemala, and Henry starts to get worried. Maybe Alex just lost the watch, or abandoned it for some reason. That’s the most reasonable explanation. Even so, Henry quietly requests recent satellite images of that area and zooms all the way in on the watch’s coordinates.

It’s a high-security compound of some sort. Not good.

He tries not to let his imagination run wild. The tracker he’d left in the watch is extremely high resolution, and he watches it occasionally move around the compound, as if someone was wearing it, though mostly it stays in one place. Alex could have traded it or gifted it as part of an operation; it was a valuable watch, after all. Still, it nags at Henry. He’s not going to be able to rest until he finds out what actually happened. The most straightforward way would be simply asking, but he has no way of contacting Alex except a burner phone he has no reason to believe Alex would be monitoring.

He sends a message anyway, but after a few days without a response, he can’t take it anymore.

It’s completely mad, he knows it is, but he makes up an excuse about tracking down a lead on a long-cold operation and books a ticket to Guatemala City. He covertly watches the outside of the compound for three days, keeping track of the men who come and go, and sends photos of them to Bea with a request to run facial recognition and not ask any questions. (She does, of course, but she doesn’t push, even when they come back with the names of some very bad people.)

Finally, once the compound’s primary resident leaves and takes with him what should be the majority of his armed muscle, Henry makes his move. The watch is still inside, and Henry follows the tracker’s signal down into the basement of an outbuilding, taking out a handful of guards with tranquilizers as he goes. The building is dark and dank, and the series of locked metal doors he finds do nothing to help the cold, hard knot that’s settled into his stomach. His hands don’t shake as he picks the lock on the one the watch is resting behind, but that careful composure slips when the door finally swings open to reveal a miserable lump curled on a thin mattress, a head of matted curls just visible through the murky darkness.

Alex flinches away when Henry first reaches out for him, scrambling into the corner, but then his eyes land on Henry and his mouth drops open. He blinks rapidly, scrubs frantically at his eyes, and blinks again.

“Henry?” he croaks in disbelief. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here for you, love,” Henry tells him, holding his hands out in front of him as he slowly moves closer. “I’ve come to get you.”

There’s a beat of silence, then another, then Alex surges toward him. Henry almost shies away himself, unsure of what Alex means to do, but then Alex is grabbing him and wrapping him up in a hug so tight it squeezes the air out of Henry’s lungs, and Henry can do nothing else but curl his arms around the trembling man now occupying his lap.

“It’s ok, I’m here,” he murmurs, rubbing a soothing hand down Alex’s back.

“How?” Alex chokes out. “How did you…?”

His voice trails off as he raises his left arm and looks at his own wrist, where a bit of watch strap peeks out beyond the filthy cuff of his shirt. Inexplicably, his captors had let him keep it, though that becomes more understandable when his sleeve slips further down and Henry sees how he’s smeared it with mud. The exquisite Patek Philippe now looks like a beaten up piece of junk.

“I didn’t want to lose it,” Alex says, his voice cracking over the syllables. He drops his arm and tries to bury his face in Henry’s chest. “That probably sounds dumb.”

“No, love, it doesn’t,” Henry says, holding him tighter. It’s torture to pull away, but eventually he must. “Come on,” he says, tipping Alex’s chin, now covered in a scraggly beard, up so their eyes meet. “Let’s get you out of here.”

#rwrb #red white and royal blue #firstprince #firstprince fic #rwrb fic #my fic #hug ficlets #sctsblu #i reserve the right to expand this later lol

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dunmeshistash · 2 hours ago

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ive always wondered if milsiril's overprotectiveness of kabru was less because of infantilisation (although she def like all elves has that problem) and more so out of guilt. she was a captain of the canaries during the Utaya incident I believe and she witnessed what happened and she couldn't stop it. and she left the canaries because of it and took in the kid who was the Only survivor, raised him in extreme comfort so he'd never see the horrors again and didn't want him anywhere near the dungeons! like i think learning self defense for defenses sake would have made her hesitant but she would have obliged but because it was specifically for the dungeons she was so against it. also like he must have had a rough few years dealing with that trauma as well which doubled her protectiveness

I believe it's a mixture of both, I don't think you can really take away the guilt (actually unsure if that's the best word to describe it) nor the race relations from how Milsiril sees Kabru.

I am the Milsiril apologist ™ but the fact she see's Kabru as a child even now is a big part of their relationship, she's a mother that can't grow up (both for being an elf and for her own issues) and that has to cope with her children outgrowing her fast

Putting a read more cause as usual when it's about Milsiril I talk too much

We can see in every way Milsiril acts that she sees Kabru at most as a toddler during his time with her, she's hand feeding him, has him in a room full of toys and talks about him like he's a cute baby.

I think people are too mean about this side of Milsiril tbh. I think it makes her interesting and it's clear (to me at least) that she does her best to provide for her children even if she doesn't truly understands them. Even in that first interaction with Kabru where she's trying to hand feed him they were *already* training with swords beforehand.

Milsiril also talks to Kabru in a way that kinda seems to expect him to understand more than what a small child would like we can see in the AB extra

So her infantilization doesn't extend to underestimating him at least, rather I think that's how she shows affection (which is still bad 😭)

Anyway, about her trauma with the dungeon and guilt (or maybe shame? Fear?), I do think that was one of the motivations for her to take Kabru in as I said in this post (beware I am a Milsiril apologist and I am VERY biased in seeing her in a more positive light, doesn't mean it's true) but I think that side of her manifests in her sudden switches from crybaby mom to ruthless master

Milsiril is very emotionally unstable from what we can see, she's really trying to convince Kabru not to go into dungeons and when tears don't work she switches into training him so hard he'll give up on his own. I've seen people call this her "true colors" or say she was using "crocodile tears" but in my opnion both the tears and the threat are genuine, I don't think it's a planned switch but rather the fact she's unstable to begin with, both the crybaby mom and the scary swords master are her true self.

Anyway! I think both guilt and infantilization are intertwined in her love towards Kabru, I've said this before but she's a flawed caretaker in a world where she does not have the resources to become a better one. She's traumatized she's depressed and she's an elf, but she's the only one (that we know) willing to at least *try* to treat the people she cares for the correct way. If it wasn't for Milsiril Kabru would have been raised by elves like Rin was (and we know that went very bad, they traumatized her), and Mithrun might not have received the proper rehab he needed to go back into the canaries (He might have managed but we see Milsiril put in the effort to help him cope besides being the one to tell him about Utaya)

That is all to say: Milsiril is still flawed!! It's part of what I love about her, and it's the reason so many people dislike her too. I'm saying this cause sometimes when I go on my Milsiril rants I get asks putting down Kabru to raise her up and that's like, very uncomfortable lmao. Even if she did her best he still was the one that to deal with all of her shortfallings while being raised and he's still the one responsible for getting to where he is, she just made is easier than it could have been.

Disclaimer as is usual for my Milsiril posts: I'm a Milsiril fan, my interpretations of her are very charitable because I often see people being way too uncharitable about her. Please read the original material and make up your own interpretation, this posts only contain what I think it's relevant for my point not an objective view of the whole. I've also already made several posts about her and I don't want to keep repeating myself so if you think I glossed over something important that's probably why.

Edit: thinking more about it, maybe rather than feeling guilty herself she might blame "elves" as a whole for the failure in Utaya, it does say she left it "in disgust". It's not that clear how she feels about it.

I still think it's shared trauma though, I don't think it's possible for Milsiril to not have been affected by what happened there and I think it's part of why she doesn't want Kabru to go to dungeons again. But her way to cope is to turn away from it (and blaming "elves" might be part of how she copes) while Kabru's is to face it so it doesn't happen again

#Milsiril #dunmeshi thoughts #dungeon meshi spoilers #putting an extra disclaimer this time cause sometimes I feel like people are reading dungeon meshi thru my blog

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a-coelacanth-makes-stuff · 2 days ago

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(Note that it's about 2 am when I started writing this so I'll probably sound kinda incoherent, sorry-)

Some people just don't get that children are allowed to see blood sometimes, and that blood doesn't mean that a show isn't for kids or it being a kids show means it can have mature themes.

So many kids shows have no proper substance, nothing interesting, nothing kids can learn from. We need more shows with three dimensional characters that are a joy to see and watch grow, that teach us that we can grow.

Some that do that come to mind are(And keep in mind, I've not ever looked into the themes into these shows yet, but I do want to):

The Owl House, I was there when the last season aired, I almost grew with Luz, I have ADHD and (undiagnosed as it's difficult to get that here) autism, so I resonated with the Main character so much. I had an attachment to these characters, so much so that my otherkin self (trying not to curse) was Hunter for a couple hours when the first episode of season 3 aired! This show helped me get through some stuff with characters I related to and helped me grow, to understand I really didn't have to mask as much as I had been.

Amphibia, like Annie I felt out of place, so I latched onto that. She was like me, navigating a world not made for me. That ending was so bittersweet, about moving on in your own way.

Bluey. Have you seen how many people say it's helping them parent better, or heal their inner child, or teaching their kids to communicate better?

My Little Pony did something well, they had a story that compelled people to watch, to learn and understand the world and the characters as they grew. Yes, many points were for money *cough* EQG *cough* Flurry Heart *cough* but the show runners did what they could to make the fun pastel ponies appeal to those who like stories, those who wanted a brain off show, and Hasbro.

No, none were perfect, no show is, but that's the point. No show is perfect but at least they have substance, value, and a proper story that can teach.

I'm not saying put gore in kids shows, I'm saying kids shows with plot, substance, and meaning should be normalized and expected. Shows that tell a story and teach while they do it. The Dragon Prince has blood to show the plain severity of what Aaravos does. It is PG for a reason. It does these things to better tell a story, Aaravos gets trapped in the remains of his own daughter, to the GODS THERE IS A REASON FOR THAT!

The creators give nearly EVERY choice a reason. It pushes the story, it's morals, and/or the show to be better than it was, to teach its audience better, if they even listen in the first place.

Kids shows should be allowed and expected to take risks, tell scarier stories, to show blood either from teaching first aid or showing that a bad guy is bad. They should be expected to show these things where kids can ask their parents about it so they can learn and understand the material and perhaps even look back, remember that time their parent explained how grief can make people do terrible things or that someone you hate has someone who loves them or someone you love has someone who hates them, or that those you love do not do this and to let them know if it happens, then they go back to watch it with a new perspective from life.

Anyway, that's my two cents, but I'm a broke fish. It's 3 am and I need to sleep. Peace!

-=[🐟 ]=-

Recommending The Dragon Prince to people is weird, ‘cause like.

You have to tell them off the bat “there might be some blood. Don’t be surprised if there is.”

“Actually, expect blood. And a lot of it, maybe. Sometimes.”

“You know, the bloodshed is shockingly pretty plot relevant…”

And the thing is, they’re already skeptical of it. Because it’s a kid’s show.

But by telling them the more mature themes of the kid’s show, it just leaves them even more confused and off put by it.

“Wait, are you sure this is a kid’s show?”

“It can’t be. There’s just no way.”

Yes, I’m sure.

I don’t know how they get away with the stuff they can, they just can. I’m just letting you know that there is blood, even though it is a kid’s show, in case it might be upsetting.

And you’re right. Yes. It’s a kid’s show. It’s weird.

But that’s what makes it great and why I’m recommending it to you in the first place.

#not a request #coela talks #coela rants #sleep deprived coela

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daeyumi · 1 day ago

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okay so i previously said i was gonna post some of the weirder asks in the inbox so here they are. i will be deleting the actual asks from my inbox since i’m not comfortable with answering them outright.

weird asks:

okay first off please don’t do this. it’s…… an incredibly bold choice to walk into someone’s inbox and ask for essentially a master study artwork, of a ship that the artist doesn’t like. (i don’t expect everyone to know my ship prefs ofc but it does lead me to question whether this person even follows me, as i literally never post about that ship- so why request it?)

also ofc they were asking this to happen for free, since they posed it as a request. which were also very closed at the time, since i only accept requests when i specifically ask for them

this one….. i can only guess that they were requesting a doodle of imp form midna, dressed as jessica rabbit? or at least wearing her dress?

no thanks.

okay okay hoooooooooooooo boy there is so much to unpack with this one. okay first off, the obvious— they don’t actually state what they’re referring to- i can only speculate that it was the above posted doodle, since it was the only thing i posted around this time that had both zelda & midna in it?? i don’t even think i have any pieces where all three of them are present.

ANYWAYS with that in mind, i mean yes that’s clearly intended to be zelda’s hand in the pic— but why would u assume link is included in this scenario at all?? he’s literally not mentioned whatsoever AND ALSO why immediately assume sexual context? or at least that’s what i’m guessing anon was implying here? based on the wording?

but again, if this is the image they were referring to (and i can’t think of another that would fit better, unless they saw the midzel “i prefer girls” meme redraw i did, which implies a first person view even less than this doodle does, and similarly doesn’t include link whatsoever)— why assume that the cute cheek squish meme redraw post references a completely different scenario of midzelink? nothing against ppl who ship the three of them, but it’s most definitely not the intent of my doodle here. i should also add that i have nothing at all against sexual content, but moreso want to point out that it’s an odd thing to assume about this image in particular.

i don’t even ship midzelink and i just don’t understand what would make anon assume that that’s what i was referencing

anyways. what a thing to leave in someone’s inbox ig.

okay this one i really don’t want to drag this person bc i get what it’s like to be awkward online but. please don’t do this.

i don’t even know u, so i have no opinion of u. if you want to talk to someone online, it’s best to lead with a question about a shared interest or try to get to know them first- asking someone if they like you, with no additional comments or context is just going to lead to confusion or avoidance.

i just don’t know what kind of response anon was expecting

#weird asks #dae answers #answered asks #cw: suggestive #?#i think??#it’s very unclear but just in case #sorry for being so bitchy on these responses lol but these have been festering in my inbox for a bit

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undercvrfan444 · 12 hours ago

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For weeks you felt as though someone was shadowing you. Anytime you went out a feeling of paranoia would settle in your shoulders and make you sick.

Whispers of white would grace your peripheral vision. It was always the same messy movement, gone before you could truly get a look at where the color originated from.

You’d been out all day. A close friend had asked you to come over and help her pack up the apartment she’d been living in for the past few months.

“I’m gonna miss you being around.” You said after taping the last box shut. What you really wanted to tell her was you’d miss feeling like you knew someone in this large city.

Nobara smiled softly at you. “I’m gonna miss you too babe!” A comfortable silent falls between the two of you while large cardboard boxes are squeezed together beside the door.

Lost in your own thoughts you almost don’t feel the petite gand on your shoulder, whipping around out of surprise. “Whoa! What’s going on with you girl?”

A small frustrated sigh pushes from your lips. “Sorry, sorry. I don’t know..” Running your fingers through your hair, thoughts race behind your eyes.

“I-I don’t know how else to say this, but…I think i’m being stalked.” Feeling the words come off your tongue left you with a bitter taste in your mouth. To admit something was truly happening to you was to accept the fear that dwelled in your chest when “he” was around.

And possibly the arousal too.

How is it that a person could be stalked and in some sick fucked up way, they could be turned on by that disturbing fact. Your heart rate speeds up as you feel the subtle creeping of heat tickle your cheeks.

Nobara is quick with her response, not letting a single thing slip past her.

“Stalked?” She murmured. “By who? I know there’s a lot of sick fucks out there, but damn.”

“I’m not sure to be honest. Whoever he is, he isn’t stupid. Any time I go out of my house I feel him.”

“Feel him? Babe what-“

“He’s never gotten physical with me! Partially because I think he’s either scared o-or maybe just trying to scare me. I haven’t figured which one yet.”

Thick, uncomfortable silence fills the air. Almost as if “he” could be summoned by a mere whisper of his existence. You can’t be scared. How could you lie to Nobara and tell her you were startled by this person when there was a pool of arousal forming in your panties. It was a sick world you lived in and you were sicker so.

For hours the two of you spoke about your unidentified stalker. You delve into the details of every wispy stray hair you’d see from the corner of your eyes, how his mere presence made you believe whoever he was it was undoubtedly certain strength lies within him. The conversation drew on so long the sun sank and the moon had now rose to show herself.

The cushion your body has been residing on felt as though it melded to be one with your body; signaling your time to leave.

“Y/n I’m not sure you should go home. Wouldn’t you feel safer staying here? I know everything is packed up but at least you would have another person with you.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t do that. I’ve never been attacked anyway Nobara, i’m sure i’ll be fine going home tonight.”

With that you were sent on your way, multiple opportunities to stay with Nobara were presented and you shot every single one down. Why? Maybe because it intrigued you to think of your stalker finally showing himself to you. You enjoyed the idea of someone caring so much about you that they’d go out of their way to STALK you.

Cool, crisp night air fills your lungs with every shallow breath you take. From behind you footsteps easily mimicked your own. Any other normal person wouldn’t have been able to recognize the sound, but you’d grown to expect the sound. In fact…you craved to hear those perfectly synchronized steps.

The entirety of your walk home, his footsteps echoed behind you. Stuttering heartbeats pounding so hard your ribs hurt. Terror ran rapid throughout your body and eventually morphed into excitement.

Finally reaching your door, you paused for a moment. “Are you still there?” Your small voice was shaky; unsure of what answer you preferred more. The world seems to go quiet around you. Unfortunately there was no sound behind you. No breathing, no steps, no ruffling of clothes, just the breeze blowing past your hair.

AUTHORS NOTE:

so ik this is random but like i’ve got fragments floating in my head and this is one of them

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #jjk gojo #jujutsu gojo #gojo x you #saturo gojo x reader #gojo satoru #stalker kink #cnc stalking #tw stalking

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27spoons · 2 days ago

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Dizzy on the Comedown | Natalie Scatorccio

summary: Denial is a river in Egypt.

pairing: natalie scatorccio x fem!reader

based on: pretty girls - reneé rapp

warnings: smut (afab!reader), internalized homophobia (nat), period typical homophobia (if you squint), ambiguously queer!reader, angst in my pants, I know nothing about soccer

a/n: technically you can read this part without reading part one but you should read part one anyway <3

wc: 5540

part one / ao3

The chair next to you is empty.

Again.

It's been empty all week, and despite your best efforts at convincing yourself that it's fine, you can't stop the void from weighing on your conscience. Sure, missing one day was fine. Normal, even. It isn't Natalie if she doesn't miss at least one class a week.

But there's something about how she's been dodging your calls, the fact that this is the second day in a row she's conveniently missed the one class you two share, and the nagging pit in your stomach that says this absence feels different.

You try to focus on the lecture—something about the economic structures of ancient civilizations—but the professor’s voice fades into the background.

You knew this would happen. You knew it would end up hurting one or both of you. For once, you're grateful your seat is in the back of the lecture hall because it lets you close your eyes and press your head into your palms in frustration.

The remainder of the lecture is spent in thought, wondering how the hell you're supposed to repair a relationship when the other person doesn't even talk to you.

Ugh.

By the time the lecture ends, your head is far too busy, wondering why the hell she's avoiding you instead of just talking about whatever—

Nope. Actually, that's perfectly in character, now that you think about it. Why talk about things when you could just wall yourself off and refuse to converse over what you deem problematic?

With a roll of your eyes, you stand up from your seat and throw on your backpack, making record time back to your dorm.

Your first order of business? The soccer schedule Nat gave you at the start of the season.

She has a game tonight.

Perfect.

If she won't talk like adults, you'll ambush her after her soccer game ends. Either way, you two will talk about this, whether she likes it or not.

You glance down at your watch as you arrive at the soccer field.

4:50, the analog clock flashes back at you—ten minutes to match start.

Truthfully, you've never been that big of a soccer fan. Despite attending most of Nat's soccer games since high school, you don't understand the game. You just know she kicks a ball around a field over the course of an hour and a half. Should you have learned a thing or two by now? Probably. Oh, well. That's a thought for another night. You don't need to understand the game's dynamics to understand that more goals equals win, and winning is good.

Rather than sitting in your usual spot, right behind Nat's bench, you sit in the middle of the bleachers, right in a mess of people, out of view unless you're actively searching the stands for someone.

When the teams come out onto the field, your eyes find Nat immediately jogging out behind some girl with black hair and tan skin. Instinctively, you shrink further into the crowd as if she would even end up looking your way—because why would she? You know the areas that her friends usually sit in—and you're far from any of them. Regardless, you tug your hood up all the same and hunch over slightly in your seat.

Right after halftime passes, you make the mistake of stretching your arms above your head in an attempt to relieve the tension that's started building in your back since you began hunching your back. And, of course, that just so happens to be the exact point of time Natalie looks up into the stands as she sets her water bottle down.

Good going. Your one goal was to be stealthy.

You tense slightly, and you honestly don't know what you were expecting, but it wasn't her just… glancing away and heading back out to the field. Or… maybe you should have expected it. She has a game to win, after all. What was she supposed to do? Ditch the game and start talking to you?

Either way, you notice she doesn't play nearly as well as she did in the first half. A part of you wonders if you're partially at fault for that.

By the time the game ends, the team manages to come out on top, one to nothing. You're not that big of an asshole that you'd interrupt a post-game celebration, but the second you see the team part and head to the changing rooms, you try and make a beeline for the familiar mop of bleach blonde hair mingling in the mess of soccer players. Yet, she's gone before you can grab her shoulder and talk.

Goddammit.

You suppose she doesn't play soccer because she's slow.

But you'll be damned if she manages to slip past you again tonight.

You spend a good thirty minutes pacing outside one of the entrances to the locker rooms, already knowing that you could have very well missed her by now if she slipped out the opposite exit, but that's a chance you're willing to take.

She usually takes a shower after a game, anyway. It's not odd for her to spend a little longer in the showers, but thirty minutes is a little excessive.

Still, in all your wisdom, you decide you'll wait an hour at the most. Not like you have anything better to do tonight, anyway.

By the forty-five-minute mark, you start debating your sanity.

By the fifty-minute mark, you start debating leaving—

The door opens. "Natalie!" You say immediately, pushing off the wall and walking in quick strides towards her, "Nat! Hold on!"

The girl scoffs and keeps walking away, shaking her head in annoyance. "Oh my God. I knew you were gonna try something when I saw you in the stands today."

"You've been avoiding me!" You yell back, "What the fuck was I supposed to do? You haven't been showing up to class, you've been avoiding my calls… I mean, what the fuck was I supposed to do?"

"I don't know!" She calls back, not bothering to stop and look at you, "I think that maybe you should have waited until I came to you!"

"We both know you wouldn't have, Natalie! You would—" You quicken your stride again, "Fuck! Would you slow down for two seconds?! Or at least look at me when I'm talking to you?"

"If you can't say what you need to say while I'm walking, then it probably isn't even worth saying!" She responds with a humourless chuckle, "Not like I'm running away! Just walking!"

You huff at that, forcing out air through your nose. "Natalie." She keeps walking, "Natalie!" You finally snap, reaching out to grab at her wrist, "Stop fucking walking for a minute!" A beat, "Please." The last comment comes out slightly more desperate than you intend it to, but you don't know what you'll do if she doesn't talk about this with you, "Please, Nat." You breathe out, fully leaning into the desperation at this point, "Fuck, I… I can't lose you over something like this."

That makes her pause despite her initial struggle when you grabbed her wrist. She still doesn't face you, but she does stop walking.

"You…" You can see the way her face contorts in an expression similar to pain, "You aren't gonna lose me over this."

"Then just…" A shaky sigh, "God, Nat. Just talk to me. Please. Stop… running—literally—just… just talk to me." You release her wrist after a moment longer, drawing your hand back to your side.

"I can't." She whispers, "God… I just… I can't, okay?"

"Why not, Natalie?!" You can't help how your voice breaks on her name, "Why not?? We used to tell each other everything! When did that change?"

"It hasn't, okay?!" Nat snaps, turning around to look at you. "It hasn't changed! I'm just not ready to talk about this right now! Why can't you accept that?!"

"Because I know you! And I know that you'll just keep fucking avoiding this until it kills us!"

"Oh, wow." She scoffs, immediately throwing up those barriers you've become so accustomed to. "Y'sure think real highly of yourself, huh? That us not talking would kill me? Wow."

"You know that's not what I meant!" You hiss out as you take a step forward, "You know damn well I meant "killing our relationship," not… literally killing us!" You throw your hands up in equal parts frustration and confusion as to why she's acting like this, "Natalie, you have to know I'm not about to force you into a role or something—"

She slaps a hand over your mouth, "Would you lower your voice?!" She hisses at you, glancing around the area to see if anyone overheard, "Fuck! And, no, you aren't forcing me into a "role" because I'm straight!"

You yank her hand off of your mouth, "Natalie, you—!" You two enter a whisper-yelling competition, "Natalie. In case you fucking forgot, you were—" You glance around the area briefly, still focusing on watching your voice, "—tongue-fucking-deep in my fucking vagina the other night!"

Nat blushes furiously at the comment, jaw-dropping, and her entire body freezes.

But, hey, you're already on a roll. "And, as far as I'm fucking concerned, straight chicks don't spend hours fucking her "best friend"—who is a woman—and fucking enjoy it!"

Her jaw remains on the floor as you finish speaking, and you really don't know what to do from here, but you really don't want her to walk off yet, so you do the reasonable thing.

You grab her face and draw her in for a kiss.

The kiss lasts about five seconds, in which she doesn't kiss you back at all, so you release her face and take a step back, swallowing down the lump in your throat. "I—"

Her hand connects with your face with a loud THWACK, causing your head to flick to the side in shock, despite it not being that hard or hurtful.

Your hand moves to the cheek she hit, and it's your turn to drop your jaw. "Did you just… hit me?" You ask in equal parts, shock and reluctant arousal.

Nat's mouth opens and closes a few times—as if she can't believe what she did either. "I… yes?"

A beat, an exasperated huff, "You don't even know if you hit me??"

"No! I mean… I know I hit you! I just…" She presses a hand to her head, just as confused as you are, apparently. "I didn't expect to hit you!"

"Well… you did??" You blink a few times as you try to recollect yourself, "Why??"

"I don't know?!" She yells back, "I don't know, okay?! I just—!" She groans in frustration, throwing her hands in the air. "Fuck, you piss me off!" And you think that she's about to storm off or hit you again, but she does something very unexpected and very appreciated—

She grabs your face and kisses you. Properly this time. You hesitate only a moment before you return the kiss, hands immediately wrapping around her waist to draw her closer to your body.

The kiss is short-lived but intense, tongues pressing against each other in a flurry of want, Nat pressing up onto her toes to deepen it further, body pressing flush to yours as her arms wrap themself around your neck in a tight hold.

When the kiss breaks, her face remains close to yours. "Take me back to your dorm." She murmurs against your lips, warm breath fanning over your face.

You hesitate for a moment, shaking your head minutely. "Nat, we… we need to talk about this—"

"Later." She cuts you off, "Please, later. I promise I'll talk about it with you." A beat, and she looks up at you with wide eyes, "You know I'm good on my word."

And, for all Nat is, she is good on her word. If she says she'll do something, she'll do it.

Another moment of hesitation, a quiet breath leaving your lips, "Y-yeah. Yes. Rachel is always at her boyfriend's place, anyway. We'll have the place to ourselves."

A small grin quirks on Natalie's lips, "Oh, boy. A twin-sized bed in a dorm with walls thinner than paper, all to ourselves. I can't wait."

You scoff and roll your eyes, detaching yourself from her hold, "You're the one that suggested my dorm room, asshole. We could have gone to yours."

She gives an exasperated pout, "But my dormmate is always home. And she snores."

You nudge your head in the general direction of your dorm, "Whatever. C'mon, before I change my mind."

"We both know you won't do that, though." She hums alongside you.

The second you two are in your dorm room, your backpacks are on the floor, and clothes are being quickly discarded.

"For the record," Nat murmurs as she throws her shirt off over her head, "I'm not—"

"Nope!" You cut her off as your hands move to your belt, "Don't wanna hear you say some shit like "I'm not gay" again after the conversation we just had."

The blonde scoffs and rolls her eyes, "I wasn't gonna say that." She falls back onto your bed and wiggles out of her pants, "I was gonna say "I'm not sure how much fun doing this in a twin-size is gonna be" if you would have let me finish."

A grin crosses your face, "Oh, trust me. I fully plan on having you finish multiple times tonight." You shoot her an overexaggerated wink, which earns you a (barely restrained) giggle and eye roll, with her pants being thrown at you. "Hey!" You catch her pants as they hit your chest, "You walked into that one. Only person you can blame is yourself."

"You talk so much, you know that?" She props herself up on her elbows and looks over you, "And you still have far too many clothes on. That needs to change."

"Yeah, I would have been more naked if someone hadn't thrown her pants at me." To tease her a little more, you spend your time folding her pants and delicately placing them on a chair, then do the same with her shirt that was discarded on the floor.

"Dude." Nat groans, "Seriously?" You see her kick her leg out at you through the corner of your eye, and a smirk twitches its way onto your lips as you continue the methodical process of folding clothes. And, much to the dismay of the half-naked girl on your bed, when you start stripping, you give your clothes the same treatment.

"You're fucking with me." She deadpans, eyes narrowed. "You have to be."

You hum, "I'm just ensuring our clothes don't get wrinkled."

Nat looks at the unfolded, clean laundry sitting in a heap at the foot of your bed, then back to you. "You have to be fucking with me."

"What can I say? I've decided I should start changing my habits. Starting now."

You get the sense she wants to give you a smart comment but then decides that if she did that, it would likely result in more of your teasing, so she opts for a frustrated huff instead. "Asshole." She grumbles under her breath, crossing her arms petulantly as she collapses back onto the mattress.

You grin as you pad back over to the bed, now in nothing but your underwear, "Yeah. But you knew that before you came back with me." You clamber onto the bed so that you're hovering over her, caging her to the bed. "So, once again, only yourself to blame."

"Yeah, I know." She murmurs, reaching up to wrap her arms loosely around your shoulders, "I seem to be making a lot of interesting choices lately."

"Interesting, but not bad?" You begin to press kisses to the side of her neck, slow and exploratory.

"Mmm…" She moves her hands, one tangling in your hair, the other coming to rest on your shoulder, "No. Not bad. I make a lot of bad choices, but…" She hesitates, a soft sigh escaping her lips as she bares her neck for you. "No. I don't think this is one of them."

The grin that crosses your face is inevitable, and you pause your actions briefly as you reflect on the comment. "Good." After a long moment, you whisper against her skin, "That's…" You smile wider, pressing your forehead to her shoulder. "Good. That's good. I'm happy you think that."

"You're so cheesy." She pushes your shoulder back slightly so she can see your face, and a smirk appears when she sees your soft, warm smile. "And you're grinning like a dork."

"Can I be happy for thirty seconds? Is that allowed?" You run your hands up and down her sides, which immediately turns into her giggling and trying to get away from you, swatting at your hands. "Oh? Ticklish, Scatorccio?"

"Asshole!" She laughs, trying to grab your hands. "S-stop! You know I'm ticklish!"

You shake your head, the grin now becoming more unhinged, "Nope! This is what you get for not letting me have a moment! I was trying to be cute!"

"N-no!" She laughs louder, eyes squeezing shut as her attempts remain futile. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I t-take it back!"

You laugh at that, enjoying the way she's squirming under you. And… it's nice. It's really nice, actually. Because this feels more like how a situation with your best friend should be, not… whatever happened at that party.

In your slight haze of thought, you pause long enough for Nat to shove you off of her, pinning you down instead. "Yes!" She laughs triumphantly, grabbing your wrists and holding them to the bed as she straddles your waist, "My turn!"

"Not ticklish, Scatorccio!" You laugh, shifting your hips up under her, both trying to get her off of you and trying to grind yourself against her. "But you're welcome to try!"

"Everyone is ticklish!" She lets go of one of your wrists, moving her hand to your waist and beginning her assault, "I'll prove it!" She laughs, warm and happy.

Admittedly, it's a sound you've missed. You've missed hearing her laugh.

But you still aren't ticklish.

You lay there and let her try, to no avail. "You're so fucking boring." Nat murmurs once she realises she won't be getting you to crack, and she collapses back onto the bed beside you.

You turn to face her, propping yourself up on an elbow, your free hand trailing to rest on her stomach, "No, I'm just not ticklish. Hell, I touch you the wrong way right now, and you're gonna be giggling." You almost prove your point, but Nat glares at you and grabs the hand you have on her stomach, her expression telling you No.

"Mmmmm… but I'm feeling nice right now. So I won't. Because I'm nice." You grin down at her, and she rolls her eyes and releases her hold.

"Good. Because I'll kick your ass, I still have my cleats in my bag, don't make me use them." A quick glance at her soccer bag, and you briefly consider how long it would take Nat to push you off of her and grab her cleats, holding up her end of the promise.

Until she grabs your face with one of her hands, making you face her. "I'm joking." She murmurs, thumb brushing against your cheekbones. "Didn't I say you think too much?" And she pulls you in for a kiss, far more tender than you would have imagined it to be.

"Also said I talk too much—" You mumble against her lips, which earns you a harsh pinch on your hip, a clear sign to shut up and kiss me, if you've ever seen one.

So, you do. What can you say? You're a people pleaser at heart.

Her lips part to make way for your tongue, and the kiss quickly escalates from there.

Natalie’s hands slide from your shoulders to your back, pulling you closer to her as her lips move against yours with increasing urgency. Her nails dig lightly into your shoulder blades, seeking a path downwards to the clasp of your bra. The second she gets it off, her hands shift to your front, squeezing your breasts greedily.

You smirk into her lips as your tongue presses against hers, saliva mixing together as your right hand flattens against the smooth expanse of her stomach, index gently tracing a small scar just below her rib cage.

She tenses slightly when you brush against the scar and immediately grabs your wrist and guides it lower, down to the waistband of her panties. You hesitate somewhat, but when she squeezes your wrist, you take that as encouragement and dip your fingers below the waistband, fingers quickly beginning to circle the area around her clit, but not quite touching it.

Blunt nails dig into your wrist, but she never breaks the kiss, despite the apparent frustration with your teasing in the way she grabs at you. A smirk makes its way onto your face as you detach your lips from her mouth, attaching them to her jaw, then slowly trailing them down her neck, savouring how she tilts her head to give you better access.

The second you bite down on her neck, attempting to suck a mark into the pale skin, you feel her tug your head back, "N-no. No marks." Nat mutters breathlessly, "Please. Just… nowhere visible."

"Nowhere visible?" You parrot, considering that for a moment, "I can work with that." Continuing to press kisses to her neck, you agree to her terms and don't leave any marks, but you can't find it in yourself to remove your lips from the smooth expanse.

She seems pleased with the fact you're being so agreeable about that and lets out a quiet sigh, "Good. Now stop teasing."

A laugh is pulled from your throat, "Remember what I said last time? Gotta build that tension. Makes the release ten times as good." But, once again, you are a people pleaser. Specifically, a Natalie pleaser, and you let your fingers brush against her clit once, twice, then you start properly playing with the bundle of nerves.

Nat lets out a hum of appreciation as her fingers come to tangle in your hair, encouraging the way you press your face into the side of her neck as your fingers move, attempting to find a suitable rhythm. Once you do, you let out an appreciative groan at the way her hips grind down into your hand, trying to chase whatever you can give her.

"Fuck," You murmur against the side of her neck, "God, you're so fucking wet." A shiver makes its way down your spine at the wet sounds you're pulling from the region, coupled with the short, sharp breaths Nat is taking.

The breathless moan that parts from Nat's lips has you closing your eyes and focusing on your movements, brows furrowing in concentration. Your fingers leave her clit, sliding down through her wetness, then you're sliding two fingers into the warm opening, "Oh, God." You breathe out as your fingers sink down to the knuckle, "You feel so good."

"Not so bad yourself." Nat tries to quip back, but it comes out far too breathless to land the way she intends it to. "You're, ah, good at this." She murmurs out, almost like an afterthought, and you scoff and roll your eyes at the comment.

"Thanks." You mumble back, "I aim to please."

And, well, you sure as hell aim for that goal.

Two fingers turn into three, Nat's breathless gasps and small whimpers pull from her throat at an increased rate, and it's not long until her nails are digging into your wrist hard enough to sting.

You get the message pretty quickly.

"Yeah—" You exhale, mouth trailing back up to her lips, "Wanna feel you come on my fingers." A kiss to the corner of her lips, "Wanna fucking feel you come on my fingers."

A small whimper leaves her lips, and her back arches, "F-fuck, keep doing that, and I will—"

You press your lips against hers, all teeth and tongue and oh god she's whimpering against your lips and—

You feel the way she clenches around your fingers in pulsations, the way her entire body tenses, then slowly relaxes as the pulses subside.

Before you can stop yourself, you retract your fingers from her and immediately press them into your own mouth, making a show of cleaning off the digits, pulling them back with a thin string of saliva connecting them to your lips.

Natalie, for the record, seems to find this very attractive. If the way her jaw goes slack and her eyes darken in hunger is any indication, "Jesus Christ." She stares at you, chest heaving with exertion (despite not doing anything other than lying there), and she's dragging your head back down to lock your lips together, desperate and eager.

One of her hands curls around the nape of your neck, fingers tugging gently on the strands of hair at the base of your head. Her tongue presses itself past your lips, seeking yours, tasting the remnants of her release on your tongue. A gentle groan parts from her, and after a moment, she draws your tongue into her mouth, sucking on it, and whether she's chasing the taste on your tongue or just doing it because she can, you really don't care. It's hot.

She moves to turn onto her side, facing you, and one of her hands moves to rest on your hip, the other remaining at the base of your skull. Nat slowly rocks her hips into yours, "My turn." She breathes out against your lips, the hand on your hip beginning to trace itself lower with clear intent.

The blonde hesitates slightly when she pulls back, eyes wide and pale cheeks flushed a shade of red. Her tongue peaks out to lick at her lower lip before she speaks, "I… I want you so bad…"

That comment makes you hesitate momentarily; even Natalie senses it wasn't entirely her to drop something like that. You give her a slight look of confusion at her attempt at being sultry but choose not to comment on the out-of-character line.

"Yeah," You breathe out after a moment, deciding just to move on, "Yeah." And you're kissing her again.

Nat moves her fingers under the waistband of your underwear, moving with purpose to find your warm heat, only slowing for half a second when she feels the wetness at the tips of her fingers. She hums into your mouth, seemingly in approval of her findings.

Unlike you, Natalie doesn't tease. Maybe it's because she already knows you're worked up from getting her off, or perhaps she just prefers getting right into the action, but either way? You're not complaining.

No, it's hard to complain when her fingers play with your clit like it's the most fascinating thing in the world to her, flicking the bud and rolling it between her pointer and middle finger with a satisfied grin on her face.

You push at her shoulder when you feel the grin against your lips, "Stop acting all smug." Comes out in a petulant huff, earning you a small giggle and a few quick circles of your clit.

"What? Am I not allowed to be happy I'm making you feel good?" She teases, voice laced with faux sadness.

"You just started, ass." Your hand moves from her shoulder to the back of her neck, "Don't get ahead of yourself."

"Hardly ahead of myself," she muses, fingers starting to move in smaller, controlled circles. "Just remembering what you did last time we did this. You seemed…" She hums to herself, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck, "pretty into it."

A scoff, followed by a squeeze of her nape, "Yeah, hard not to be into it when you have a hot chick's hand between your thighs."

That earns you another giggle, and Nat lets her fingers leave your clit in favour of seeking your entrance. "And, for the record?" She moves her lips to your ear, "It's gonna be a long night."

"That a promise?" You gasp as one of her fingers begins to tease, slowly sliding down, "Or just… a thinly veiled threat?" "Oh, baby." Nat purrs, finger sinking into its destination, "It's a guarantee."

And it sure as hell was.

It's well past noon when you wake up if the light streaming through your curtains is proof enough.

Most notably, there's a warm weight on your chest, and that weight you quickly realise belongs to none other than Natalie Scatorccio.

One hand draped over your waist, head resting on right above your heart. Bleach blonde hair is splayed out across your chest, and a soft smile makes its way onto your face at the sight.

She stayed the night.

The sense of relief that immediately crashes over you is palpable, and you let out a breath that you feel like you've been holding since that night at the party.

You aren't quite sure how long you lay there before you realise she's wearing your shirt like it's the most casual thing in the world, and, specifically, it's the shirt you wore last night. Usually, you're not one for cheesy romantic moments, but that? Oh, that makes you feel real good about yourself. Sure, it could have just been a "this is available" type of thing, but you like to imagine it's something a little deeper than that, even if you are being a little delusional.

Like all good things, the moment of peace and reflection in the afternoon light comes to an end when Natalie begins to stir on your chest, slowly opening her eyes and coming alive to the world.

"Hey." You murmur out, one of your hands coming up to start playing with her hair, "Good sleep?"

She grunts at that, closing her eyes again and pressing her face back into your chest, "'m still sleepy."

A warm laugh leaves your chest, and you can see Nat's small smile at your reaction to her mumbled comment, and it makes that fuzzy feeling in your chest return at full force. "Doesn't answer my question, though. Was it a good sleep?"

"Mm." She hums, the hand around your waist tightening slightly. "Yeah, actually. It was." The words come out in a sleepy mumble, and you can't help but feel… content, at least for right now.

And, honestly? You'd be comfortable letting the silence fester. This is a good silence, not the type of silence that has you begging for an out.

Natalie, however, stirs after a few minutes in silence, giving your waist a soft squeeze. "I…" She sighs, opening her eyes and looking up at you from where her head is perched on your chest, "Look. I'm gonna be honest with you. I don't…" She removes her hand from your hip and gestures to nothing, "I don't know what I am, alright? I mean…" A humourless chuckle, "I get that I'm not straight. Yeah, I've put the pieces together, but I don't, like, know what I am."

You shake your head, shifting slightly to look at her better, "Hey," you shake your head a few times, "that's okay. You don't need to know right now. It's not like I'm about to make you take a pop quiz on what your assumed sexuality is." The words are light, attempting to convey a joke, but there's also this underlying concern buried underneath. "I'm not about to… force you to label yourself, or anything." A sigh, "I mean… it's… complicated. I dunno. Figuring out who you are." Your fingers continue to run through her hair in a soothing motion, "I'm hardly someone who can, like, guide you down a path of self-discovery, but I'll be here if you need someone to talk to, Nat."

Some of the tension leaves Nat's shoulders at your words, but it's obviously still weighing heavily on her mind. Regardless, she gives you a slight nod and rests her head back on your chest, "Can we just… figure it out later?"

"Yeah." You reply softly, "We can figure it out later, Nat. No rush."

"No rush." She parrots, curling into your side again.

a/n: crush act 2 chapter 1 next trust

You snore when you sleep, by the way." Nat comments after a long few moments in silence.

"What??" You sit up, glancing down at her, "No, I do not."

She gives you an exasperated huff when you sit up, therefore moving her from her (very comfortable) position on your chest. "Yeah, you do. Now lay back down, asshole. I was enjoying that."

"Not a single person has ever complained about my snoring before."

Nat shrugs, "Then they must not have been paying attention. Because you do." A beat, "And it's loud."

Your jaw drops in shock, and you can hardly believe what she's saying, "I genuinely cannot tell if you're fucking with me or not."

The blonde just shrugs as you lay back down, "Guess you'll have to wait and see, huh?"

"You're an asshole, Natalie Scatorccio."

"And here we are, anyways." She hums, "Here we are."

#i cant believe i gave the gays a (mostly) happy ending #im a pushover #and a woman of the people #what can i say #nat scatorccio #natalie scatorccio #yellowjackets #yellowjackets showtime #natalie scatorccio x reader #natalie scatorccio x you #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets x you #natalie scatorccio smut #nat scatorccio smut #nat scatorccio x you #nat scatorccio x reader #spoons (fics/blurbs)#steak knives (nsfw)

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manic-sapphic · 3 days ago

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btw i suppose if i were to explain it a bit better (and talk way too much lol), what i'd say is -

catra dgaf if she loses at this point.

so long as adora does too. but because she's in an entropic mental tailspin honestly, and i'm not saying that's any excuse -

but in the same way catra should've been trying harder to be her future s5 "self-awareness catra" this whole time - honestly - same goes for adora. and i def know i'm saying what a lot already see but i do wish more people did by this point, especially since it's been what like? nearing 5 years? lol. that's why i'd really rather just not argue w people. by now we feel how we all feel and i'm not tryna change anyone's mind,

it's a waste of energy on both sides imo but idk i just respect that it's a futile endeavor and wouldn't want anyone to waste their time tryna convince me to feel differently than i do so i'm not gonna do that myself. i just enjoy thinking/talking bout this show and yes obvi catradora in particular lol but just cause i've always enjoyed literary analysis and have also always loved animation & been too gay to function so seeing something like this is dope af and it's more than just the show i like to rant on, it's the concepts i can't help seeing, and idk if they're intended or not. that's what i always enjoyed most about writing, whether lyrics or fiction -

you know what you meant, but you don't know forsure exactly what it'll mean to someone else. you just hope it means something that makes them feel a little more understood, at least for me.

so anyway uh hah - they were both pushed apart by this straight up purposefully planted rift that was only pushed further apart over time (fck off shadow weaver, and imo, light hope too... they each have this sacrificial last-second moment as i see it and were both manipulative af right up to the end and i appreciate each of their sacrifices cause tbh they were crucial af but i'ma be honest - it doesn't redeem either one in my eyes. you could call sw just as programmed as light hope in the same way i suppose i do catra & adora and many other characters tbh) -

but the difference is the really wanting to try and doing it for more than a moment. i know that people will say catra did the same thing in corridors, but tbh that's exactly my point -

i mean i def know she expected to suffer, but did figure it was her last act, but its meaning to her was different, esp from sw's. sw did it to make sure the magic was freed cause that kinda power was all she ever gaf about and she never really understood what fueled that magic anyway, whether as sw or light spinner, if you ask me that's why she was never able to "hold a candle" to someone like micah or even glimmer as a sorcerer. cause etherian magic is all about the love and btch only ever loved power, and that's not the kinda love that makes the magic happen aight. cause love is the power for etherian magic.

adora and catra both understood and that's why even though she was so cruel to them, they cry.

ugh my train of thought derails constantly - my point is that catra may have assumed this would be her last chance, but she wanted to "do something good" and most importantly - for adora. idk if sw ever really thought she fcked up. lines like "and i won't apologize" "i did what i had to do" and ofc the one that makes me flip off my tv every time, ngl, "you're welcome"

it's just different - catra sincerely wanted to make up for what she'd done, to adora, to etheria, by tryna give adora the ability to go back and save everyone. she doesn't say "you're welcome"

she says "i'm sorry for everything"

and she melts into adora's embrace at the end of save the cat - she gets to be a grumpy cat at the beginning of taking control, sure, but honestly

lmao how would anyone expect the turn around to be so quick? (glimmer: "this is catra we're talking about.. did you really expect her to change overnight?")

yeah, catra felt resentment and anger for a lotta the show and now she feels regret and shame for that - "i know you all hate me" - she feels she deserves to be hated. doesn't understand why anyone - especially adora - wouldn't hate her. but really does want the chance of not feeling like that, so does come to accept the offer of it.

and nothing is ever easy in those situations - but not just for catra, like i mentioned. for adora too. they both have to come to terms with the path forward if they really wanna care for each other. and they both decide they wanna try, and i kinda feel like if someone's doing their best, what more can anyone ask?

it doesn't have to be simple to be sweet. i guess that's the conclusion to this rant haha.

"i won't let you win"

to me this moment isn't so much about

wanting to win

as it is about being tired of losing.

and eh - i mean losing everything. catra can't willingly go back to their reality.

as she says in corridors "there's nothing for me on etheria" and she already felt that right here

#spop rant #catradora #spop analysis #spop meta #i just love the love ok #this one got lengthy lol my bad

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mythalism · 10 days ago

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hmmm. thinking about how veilguard seems to subscribe more to the more traditional "video game as personal power fulfillment fantasy of heroism" than any other dragon age game, except perhaps origins, though origins does it more artfully.

#da2 certainly is not a power fulfillment fantasy #and inquisition seems like it could be on the surface #but under that surface is the horror of how power corrupts #and rots you from the inside and steals everything from you even yourself #maybe thats not true for a trevelyan #but inquisition at least has the opportunity to be played as either #depending on how the world treats your character as someone they are comfortable with having power #or not #which is a commentary in itself #origins idk #it has never stuck with me the way the other 2 games did so someone else will have to do that analysis #but veilguard is sooooooo hero fantasy fulfillment in comparison #you win in the end #nothing bad ever really happens to you at all #you tell everyone what to do and they listen and love you for it #no one blames you for anything ever #you are always right #you save the day!#compare that to leandra telling hawke their baby brother/sisters gruesome death is their fault #like JHERGJKHERGKJHREG #anyway its not necessarily a bad thing #but its a very... traditional #video game narrative path #that i dont think most of us were expecting or interested in #from a franchise who has deconstructed such things in the past #veilguard critical #mine

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quietwingsinthesky · 7 days ago

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you cant just put a character in front of me and go ‘btw when she was seventeen, everyone she knew cut her off completely so she could be bait for the most evil company in the world to hire, and then some fucking guy swooped in and took advantage of her for years’ and expect me to believe she’s the villain here. or to ever be normal about this. what the fuck!

#LUCY YOU DESERVE BETTER YOU DESERVE THE WORLD #jesus fuck she was seventeen. she was. jesus.#WILLIAM MILES WHEN I FUCKING GET YOU-#‘don’t use child soldiers’ is like an extremely low bar for the assassins to pass so its like Very Telljng to me that its the one they #repeatedly fail to reach #like it is one thing for assassins to train their own kids in their ways. thats a safety thing and thats expected.#IT IS QUITE ANOTHER THING TO SEND THEM OUT ON THE MOST DANGEROUS POSSIBKE RECONNAISSANCE MISSION YOU HAVE. MR MILES!!!!!!!#anyway. thinks about desmond experiencing altaïr bleed and talking about altaïr’s memories of being a novice already killing people as a #teenager. and like trying to avoid how fucked up it makes him feel by joking about it.#and then lucy goes ‘haha yeah. i did that too.’ with absolutely zero irony in her voice or seeming recognition of MAYBE SHE SHOULD NOT HAVE #BEEN A CHILD SOLDIER. AGAIN.#and desmond just gets this fucking wave of chills down his back as he realizes that if he hadn’t run away. well. he was gonna be the same.#arguably he still is now but at least he has some understanding of the choice he’s making in getting into the animus freely and such #but anyway. this as the catalyst for desmond actually going on to reinvent the brotherhood as altaïr did once. instead of what actually #happens in his bullshit ending. desmond thinking about him at sixteen choosing the streets over the Order. and lucy at seventeen being fed #to abstergo for intelligence gathering. and going. i’m not letting this fucking happen again.

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xcruelprincessx · 2 days ago

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I've seen this question so many times and I have posted about it before here, but I want to do it again, cuz it frustrates me when people claim Cardan isn't loyal to Jude just because he's a faerie. If he had other lovers while being with Jude, Holly would have definitely made it very clear. But she not only didn't, but made sure to point out that Locke hooking up around while being with Taryn is considered a very bad thing and Cardan isn't like this.

First of all, everything Cardan wanted during his whole life is love and affection. Not just romantically, but in general. This is what Madoc has to say about him:

The guy would do ANYTHING to be loved. And when he finally has even the tiniest bit of affection from Nicasia, he wasn't going to let it go away. He was faithful to her too and expected the same loyalty from her too, as it's very much obvious by his reaction to her betrayal.

Besides that, it's true that most fae have multiple partners and that's the exact reason most of them never marry. For example Eldred had only consorts and a lot of lovers and flings. He never was married. For the fae marriage is just as monogamous as it is for humans. As we can see with Madoc who was married to Eva and literally murdered her and the man she left him for. After Eva he got married to Oriana and even though it started simply because of Oak's safety, they don't have other lovers.

Something more. Here is a scene Cardan basically called out Locke on being unfaithful to Taryn:

Then in the queen of nothing he states that love never was a game for him. And when Jude mentions that he didn't come to bed last night, he looks at her as he didn't really understand what she was implying or at least thought he was misunderstanding her, because the thought about being with someone else didn't even pass his brain.

It's important to remember what happened right before that moment. The previous day they talked in the gardens and she slapped him, because of the exile and the riddle she couldn't solve. Something about Cardan is that he would never go somewhere he thinks he's unwanted. In HTHKOELTHS it's said that he would often sleep in the stables, because his mother didn't want him in her rooms or in the palace at all. And after that fight they just had, and Jude healings from her wounds, he might have thought that she would be more comfortable if he's not there. Then he even proceeds to ask her if she's sure she wants to spend the night with him at least 10 times before they do the deed

Anyways, about the courtiers around him, that's pretty much just them being asskissers as my mutual said in her post and it's not really his fault. He did have multiple lovers during the cruel prince and the first half of the wicked king, but he was single at that time so he can do whatever he wants with whoever he wants. I believe he stopped after what happens in chapter 15, because he was suddenly stopped being seen with others after that. Jude even multiple times states he's alone in his chambers and his bed is free from couriers and she doesn't know what to think or do with this information. He tried to talk with her about that night and was very disappointed when she said he was out of her system, cuz he probably thought they were getting serious.

At that time he was fully aware he wanted her and what he feels isn't just lust.

He was obviously upset when she commanded him not to be alone the night of Taryn's wedding. He looked offended by her request and mockingly said he will do whatever she commands. However not being alone doesn't necessarily mean sleeping with someone else. That night Jude was kidnapped so he surely didn't have time for intimate actions AND probably wasn't alone cuz his guards, the rest of the court of shadows and Madoc were all there. When she returns from the undersea and sneaks into his room, he's very much alone in there even though she's been missing for months.

In conclusion, Cardan is definitely monogamous when it comes to a romantic relationship. And while fae are known for having multiple partners and love is commonly considered a sport and many of them are exactly like Locke, it doesn't mean they all are like this. They're all different and there are many of them that prefer being with one person (like Cardan, Madoc and Oriana, Oak and Wren, Kaye and Roiben etc)

I just finished Elfhame series and came across your tumblr and your post about "Cardan just wanting love" and your analysis was enjoyable to read.

However, after finishing books 1, 2, and 3, I get the feeling that Cardan isn’t... faithful to Jude. Fae are very poly, and Cardan was/is definitely a thot, and Jude's insecurities over that never go away.

Do you believe Cardan is monogamous after The Wicked King?

Will cardan stay loyal to jude? / cardans views of faith / his love for jude

😭😭no hate to anon but i can’t ever picture cardan NOT being faithful to jude. Also anon did you read “how the king of elfhame learned to hate stories”

btw I’ve made posts like this before(regarding his faith) and they dive into other aspects of why i think he was faithful: this one!!!

he singled jude out from the very beginning during palace school, he fell for jude WHILE he was with nicasia, for so many reasons.

he at first found her infuriating and frustrating for her advantages that she had and he didn’t, despite being raised on the idea that humans were garbage.

then he fell for her determination and audacity, her cunning and strength. even as jude made him look weak, he wanted her and only her.

Meanwhile, cardan hates ass-kissers, which is nicasia, and the rest of the court. He hates that courtiers will allow him to slap and use them, all while going home to people that actually loved them. This is stated in his novella.

Cardan is brought up on the idea that he is a prince that has nothing, that he is worthless despite his title, and he hates it. And that’s how the people treat him, adored and petted on for short times (mostly for favor), but ultimately abandoned and unloved.

Yes, cardan has had lovers, as seen in tcp, in twk, but never after the beggining of the wicked king when he’s shot at. of course courtiers drape themselves on him, but he is aware that they do not love him and that he does not love them, he has only grown not to lash out at them, at which i imagine was based on the fact that he was no longer under balekins suffrance (his beatings) and because he now had jude (even if they weren’t really allies at this point, he still craves Jude’s favor and acts accordingly, as seen as when he gives Taryn his army bc he thinks she’s jude, as seen as him trying time and time again to gain her favor in twk)

Because he wants jude to trust him. Even in the first book, even BEFORE the first book, in his novella, cardan WANTS jude to admire him. he wants jude to see him as he wishes to be seen, princely and powerful, i will attach a pic below from his novella:

(Honestly this pic ALONE pretty much seals the deal for me that he wouldn’t so much as look at another, let alone cheat on jude)

now, onto monogamy and fae standards:

Cardan has shown a clear dislike for many fae standards and cultures.

He sees humans differently from others, he sees life as precious and as something to hold onto, (I’m talking about his morals and his unwillingness to kill even someone that another faerie would consider beneath him), he is unlike his brothers in the power-hungry sense, he likes taking the easy way out, and he craves true love above all.

Jude’s monologue once said that faeries view lovemaking as a sport, as a game. But cardan also said that he never saw love as a game. And he cannot lie.

Add on: bro LITERALLY called jude his GOD. and he cannot lie… so why would he ever have anyone else? exactly!

Another thing, his view of human culture. We know he read Alice in wonderland. We also know that to humans, exchanging rings is commonly our wedding/marital tradition. It it not a fae tradition, for a bride and groom to give each other rings.

Cardan went out of his way to learn about Jude’s culture when proposing to her, and he also stole her ring very early on in the wicked king, so i can imagine that he was planning to propose for a while. To make her his queen.

It is also human culture to remain loyal and monogamous.

Then, when she left during the exile. he was devastated, and begged her to come home in letters that his mother did not send.

In twk, cardan learns, slowly but surely, how to be good. How to be a good king, a good person. For Jude. He learns that he doesn’t have to resort to drinking himself sick to avoid all the misery he endures, but to overcome those miseries and become a good man. and he does it partly for jude and also of course-for himself.

Cardan never knew he could be good, he could be loved. But jude taught him that. (If that isn’t enough to think that he wouldn’t remain monogamous then damn)

Then of COURSE there’s the fact that jude is human. there aren’t many unglamoured humans in elfhame, and obviously Jude’s body is different from a faerie. i like to think that cardan has a specific attraction to Jude’s human body, rather than the same old faerie bodies he’s seen. (I get it king)

LASTLY, i just want to remind us all of how cardan reacted when he found nicasia (of whom he was in a royal relationship with, like him and Jude) with Locke. the photos from his novella are below:

He views nicasias little fling with Locke as excruciating, as a horrible painful betrayal, and he trusted her not to hurt him. (Similar to him and jude, how they trust each other by the end of it, not to hurt one another)

and also, i highlighted “pretend” because although it is faerie standard to be poly in many relationships, cardan STILL is pained by her actions and his dignity and heart are both in shreds. he will pretend to love her after, if the opportunity arises and nicasia doesn’t love him, if it turns out to be just a fling, but he would still be pained by being with her.

if that is how cardan feels about being with lovers, about jude being poly or him being poly, why would he go and inflict that on jude?? he wouldn’t. what him and jude have is much more real than what he and nicasia had because it wasn’t built on obligation (and also the idea that nicasia was going to eventually murder him and steal his throne)

Moral of the story, cardan would not be with other lovers for these reasons: he loves her and he loves to be loved by her, he has learned human cultures to make himself a better husband for her and he follows those traditions, he is heavily distrustful and he dislikes courtiers. also him and jude are MARRIED ROYALTY, at which they are bound by the throne and the land to be together or whatever

anyway thanks for coming to my Ted talk! it shocks me that anyone would think that he would be with others, even if it is faerie culture, cardan is absolutely DEVOTED to that woman (i understand you king)

add on: also ofc jude is scared to get her heart hurt, she guards her heart the ENTIRE series until the end w cardan- and she’s sad when she sees him w nicasia when she asks cardan to get w her in twk. also he’s smoking hot and the king so yeah i would be thinking abt his sex life too lol. also- bro doesn’t even consider the thought that she thinks he may have been w another lover (in qon when they are about to bang) like he is so madly in love w her and she doesn’t even see it, they’re so cute! ALSO cardan has finally found love w jude so it doesn’t make sense for him to go and seek out another, especially since he’s distrusting and hates boot lickers lol

sorry for being so dead on here, I’m from the US so i was saving this last week for rotting my brain on TikTok for the last few days !! I’m working on more asks and ily 🫶 also feel free to add anything i probably missed!! This was messy and lmk if there are any typos!! ok bye

#tfota #the cruel prince #jude duarte #the folk of the air #cardan greenbriar #tcp #jurdan #holly black #jude x cardan #the queen of nothing #the wicked king #cardan #jude #nicasia #fota #the folk of air #the folk of the air series #the cruel prince series #jude cardan

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