#crossposting bc why not

[playingforever]

Your streams are delightful! Do you and Avvy have any feelings on any of the other nightmares from the sequel? - retrospring ask [link]

(Assuming you're asking on what monsters/enemies I like and such...) Haiii, sure do. A mix of intrigue in the technical aspects of the designs as well as lore. Though overall my favorite aspect of LN2 is that everything can be analyzed as an aspect of Mono's psyche in Some manner... I always appreciate when an environment lets me process a protagonist more. (This is the appeal of Headspace/Blackspace in OMORI, as well as the backdrop of the labyrinth in Rebellion.) Subsequently...

... it should be unsurprising my favorite ghoul is actually the Thin Man. Now he looks, f-funny, to me, I mean in this world of hideous beings it's so funny to just get tall. In isolation he's rly like 'lol' to look at. Slenderman ass... But I think he is well utilized in his scenes. I enjoy watching him crawl out that TV. The calm slow walk expresses what it needs to, he's not a beast lunging at you. More methodical than that. Has been waiting patiently for this. I like the instrumentation of his theme, somehow layering the feel of a ticking clock, a heartbeat, and marching footsteps. His powers are also simply Very Cool, and since he is Mono it folds into Mono being Very Cool. I like the area of effect, slowing everything around him, glitching & blipping forward, kind of twitching around himself. Jerky animatronic.

I like that one could spend the game being like ohh Thin Man scary and menacing me... but once you get to the ending twist, you're forced to think about how this is a manifestation of Mono's sadness. That the Thin Man is the end result of sitting alone in a chair, agonized and alone. Becoming, haggard and pulled like taffy and stoic, because you are lonely... The fact that this misery then blasts out in the transmission all across the city and perpetuates everyone else's loneliness as well, it's like damn... He really sad tho... I suppose I find it moe. It's just suuch a dramatic response to rejection, you know.

Whatever his motivations or thought process is when kidnapping Six, I think they must be intresting and multi-faceted. Torment her...? But, enshrine her in a room with toys and her music-box forever...? It's Mono so I think his self-hate also manifests in being unable to resist making his past-self suffer to some capacity (using Six as live-bait feels petty, knowing that Mono is going to scrabble at her like GRR GIVE ME MY GIRLFRIEND!!!!!!!!!!!!!) Even if Thin Man is perpetuating his own existence (having Mono steadily build powers & prime him for taking the Signal Tower for himself) it still feels more garbled and disordered than it ought to be. Or perhaps he himself also fully believes he can usurp fate from himself, through will-power alone. It might even be both, kind of; I don't think his mind is very linear so... [waves hand]

Now in tandem with the Thin Man, I really like the entity that is the Signal Tower itself. It can't really be looked at the same as the other inhabitants of the world, because it's not an Individual Person or anything (much like the Maw.) But I like how it's powers operate and what it utilizes at it's disposal. Have been regarding it kind of like a 'psychic parasite' to humanity. I think it craves a host with strong emotions that it can amplify and broadcast outwards, and I think ideally it would like someone who can Suffer Endlessly. Which is why Mono is such a perfect fit lol, it can perpetuate his warped view of the world and keep him running his little hamster wheel of a time loop, and he simply Will Do It, Forever, because he's so obsessive. I think other victims could easily fizzle out, or become so miserable they're helpless and unmotivated — and I imagine that's actually USUALLY what's happened until it got it's hands on Mono. Me and Avvy have discussed and, we've mused that perhaps it was a more unassuming building, perhaps it wasn't a tower before. It might have manifested in the city one day, and TVs are wholly its invention (imagine humanity just wouldn't have this technology without it.) And people would be enthralled by it and losing themselves to it, but LESS, full-scale total apocalyptic levels of the entire city warped.

The remnants of advertisements of the Maw actually give me the impression that there was a society functioning enough that... Like you could have a steady flow of SOME individuals going to the Maw, but it wasn't debilitating the population. Perhaps it mostly drew in the extravagantly wealthy, and those with 'nowhere else to go'. (Hunger triggering for the greedy & those with great absence in their lives.) Likewise, I figure the Signal Tower's transmission preyed upon those uniquely weak-willed and desperate for escapism, willing to stare at their TV all day. The potency of Mono's feelings eventually lets it expand to having dominion over a wider-radius, and effect time and space, and I think each loop degrades the world further and further... And the more you degrade the world, the more people ARE desperate to engage with the TV... the more TVs are proliferating and riddling the city in every nook n cranny... Like the city becoming riddled with bedbugs lol.

It's stimulating to think about. And, scary! Effectively scary enough that I now am kind of stressed that there is a TV in the Maw... when paired with the stinger in the DLC that alludes to the Thin Man watching, it makes me feel like ah yabai! The transmission can reach underwater, in the depths of the Maw... doesn't even 'care' that it's taking root inside a different entity exploiting humanity. Though I think the Maw really dgaf as long as it's perpetually eating, very Thog Don't Care about it (lol...) Maybe thog cannot even notice a TV more than it does the Guests' usual luggage and shoes and whatever detritus they bring in. Equivalent to the fur and bones an owl doesn't digest, compacting into the gizzard. Maw have a lot of room so Maw don't notice.

Now hm... what else... OH YES! There's a scrapped track related to an encounter that would have been with one of the TVs... the track is called Hypno, and there are unused animations for Mono appearing hypnotized, so it seems there would have been a threat of being under the thrall of the TV, like the Viewers do/are. I ultimately UNDERSTAND!! Why it was scrapped — it doesn't really make sense for Mono to be vulnerable to the transmission the way others are. I think cutting this sequence grants more integrity to Mono being able to commune with the TVs, as a unique host and ultimate master of the Signal Tower. When he approaches TVs strobing in light, Six covers her head from it, and cannot draw near. It's likely unbearable for basically anyone but Mono to approach (and even he is hunched & crumpling from the force of tuning the transmission.) So... I like-! This decision! In the long-run!

But I really love the Hypno track, and I'm very glad people have been able to unearth it. Because it's very serene and angelic. Which gives us a way of simulating the thrall that everyone is experiencing... Between that and the way Six is violently protective of her music box & miserable to be pulled out of its lull... It makes you understand why the Signal Tower works on everyone. In a world like this, wouldn't you just want to be bathed in that calm placidity, even if it warped and twisted you-? What is there to 'go back to'? Devilish and effective creature, the Signal Tower...

(If I could have my cake and eat it to, I'd have kept this portion of the game + theme, but simply had it be that Six is threatened with the hypnosis. If TVs had been very limited in presence outside of tuning, until you get to the heart of the city... and you'd pass by some engrossed viewers... then finally have to cross a threshold of a room where a TV is suspended & out of touch-radius, but emitting it's lovely tune, and there was no 'fully avoiding it'... I'd love to have to shepherd Six past this, while she tries to cover her ears and look away... and ah the intrigue one would have like, why doesn't it work on Mono...? Paper bag protection...? Somehow that doesn't seem right though... After the ending, I think you'd feel even more as though the Pale City is Mono's performance of protecting Six, because he's the reason there's a thrall to even 'protect' her from lol.)

AHMM! Now onto the rest.. -!!!! I feel like I could effectively summarize my order of interest as: The Hunter > The Doctor > The Teacher. The Hunter beats out everyone by having his setting simply be my favorite in the game. Love me a spooky isolated wilderness... cabin in da woods. Yeahh! I'm so glad we start here... In our stream, me and Avvy were uncontrollably admiring the cabin and what we could infer about his life here. He's an interesting guy with many hobbies, the Hunter... Whilst he gets described as 'bloodthirsty' (and I understand they're trying to convey this by having the taxidermy 'trophy' angle & the killing/trapping) he ah, doesn't quite read to me as killing for the sake of it. All the traps set outside the perimeter of the cabin, to Me, feel like they're for the sake of 'warding off' others; protective urges. As Mono nears his cabin, the dread to Me is 💭 oh god, this person really Really doesn't want anyone coming here... bc the traps become excessive the closer you get, and bodies are just left to rot. I suppose it's also the fact that there aren't like, scores of stuffed/mounted people in the house; it's specifically an impression of a 'family'. A mom and dad and child at a table... baa-chan in the attic... I must assume they're his family, or at least a family that meant a lot to him.

IMO it's not as if Tarsier would be unwilling to show us mounted human heads on the wall or something, I think the Hunter just Would have a trophy room if they wanted that to be the case lol. But ultimately they must have understood it'd be more tasteful & intimate to have there be such a select few people you see. Leaves more of an effect... And then the Hunter becomes a strange 'provider' for this family, by doing all the work of hunting game / skinning pelts / making leather / prepping meals to serve them. Even if it's unwell, it's methodical in a sense... And likely an endless obsession, as when Mono enters the cabin we see a kettle on in the kitchen, and what is likely a new batch of stew. I like that we see a sewing machine and things like birdhouses also piled along the trail & in his cabin, too. More meticulous things, sewing and wood-working... 'providing'. Truly a guy with a life he works away at... Bringing his own form of escapism here.

On a simpler note, I like him bag head and scary breathing sounds. I think you can watch breath puff out the hole in the bag when he is pursuing Mono and Six... kowai.. I really do not know what to make of the tears in his body. I've been thinking of him as reaching an eccentric point of stuffing his own clothes and bulking self out, to match his now-stuffed family. A bit like he lost the plot on the functionality and purpose of it all... but ah, who knows what's under there. It troubles me that he is similar enough in look to Mono (bag.. head...?) and that he initially has Six imprisoned. (Knowing that Mono is ultimately her captor?) I Don't Know What To Make Of It.

As for the Doctor... less to say here... He's unfortunately the most upsetting thing to look at in the game to me kfkfhhf... bloated corpse terrible uhh bunched hideous body crawling on the ceiling and what-all... But lol let's say that despite all that, I must be intrigued by the fact that he's got one of the most? Mutual? Consensual? Relationships with the beings in his 'domain'. It's unique. The Doctor is dutiful and his Patients are adoring; the Doctor believes what his work is important to conduct, the Patients believe that his treatments can help ease their suffering. However they've distorted, I feel as though their current state still carry this belief. So as the Doctor continuously hacks off their heads and massages their prosthetic limbs, the Patients accept it as the remedy they need to feel better.

The Doctor may be Upsettin' to look at, but the Patients are upsettin' in the interesting way, so I enjoi their designs. It's so excessive lol... ahrhh wrapped heads and face-plates on the ends of wires. Gotta get you all to stop watchin' them TVs!! Lol... Only move when there's no electricity on OK? Good.

Alsoo the life support patient scene to me is a good way to make us... question... what exactly Mono is capable of... While perhaps you could feel vindicated for smashing bullies endlessly, does it really feel good to pull the plug on a wrapped up, slowly-breathing body... Just to distract a guy to grab a fuse? How selfish lol... and then luring him away just to either incinerate him or leave him to starve, excessively cruel. You really are a disturbance that the Doctor feels justified in squashing!! Unruly behaviors.

As for the Teacher and the Bullies I really have the least to say about them. They don't contribute as much to the theme of escapism as I wish they did. However I think the cafeteria scene is very Tfw perspective of a child who felt tormented by other children. It's such an unkind way to see children but it's pretty raw if you've been, well, like ostracized and bullied and also felt alien to other children. Yeah they wind up feeling like terrible little screaming beasties that are slapping each other on the head and forcing things into each others mouths, right. Damn Mono... As for the Teacher ig I wish I could know what she uhh. Feels... about all the little child prisons around the school... Like hey girl. What happened. You good? [insert, the mysterious off screen scene of her whipping herself with a ruler.] It's a mysterious world.

[thinks...] Oh yeah the Viewers. Well I think it's funny how they BLAST FACE BEAM FRY YOU UP when they get you. Not much else to say. But I don't begrudge them, as they are the sheeple who did not deserve this fate. It's not right how Mono starts murking them left and right once Six has been taken from him. They exemplify how everyone is collateral to his obsession... Scene at the rooftops with them all jumping off very poignant for this, as Mono persists in search for Six.

Everything in the Pale City is more or less a victim to the Signal Tower, so there's no one I truly hate or can't stand... Oh, but I realize that's also how I feel about everything in the Maw as well. Maybe in a world like Little Nightmares, it's difficult to truly vilify anyone, because they're all kind of helpless past a point aren't they...

Avvy wrote a post on her tumblr ranking ghouls from 1 & 2, if you want to see that also.

[mynnthia]

was talking with a friend about how some of dunmeshi fаndom misunderstands kabru's initial feelings towards laios.

to sum up kabru's situation via a self-contained modernized metaphor:

kabru is like a guy who lost his entire family in a highly traumatic car accident. years later he joins a discord server and takes note of laios, another server member who seems interesting, so they start chatting. then laios reveals his special interest and favorite movie of all time is David Cronenberg's Crash (1996), and invites kabru to go watch a demolition derby with him

[ohmysheetmetal]

[mostly] recent leafpin gijinka art dump! revamped leafy's design a bit ago so ive been drawing her more :3

[serenescribe]

everything you never wanted Wayward Children | 17.3k | 1/3 chapters done Summary: In another universe, Jill learns just a little more patience. (In another universe, Jack learns how to heel.) Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62674009/chapters/160442371

link previews are not working, so i guess i have to format this the old fashioned way

anyways hi. returning to my bad things happen bingo nearly a year later with a fill for the "grabbed by the chin" prompt. woe, bad ending where jill was, in fact, turned into a vampire be upon ye. i have not read beyond "beneath the sugar sky" as of posting so i have no idea if this fic will contradict anything and if it does, let's just ignore that!

anyways if anyone happens to find this. i hope you enjoy it!

@badthingshappenbingo

(bingo card under the cut)

[favouritefi]

Bruh so wild to see my ofmd s2 tweets being crossposted on tumblr and having nonizzy guys commenting in the tags like bruh stop this was not meant for your eyes

[milkbreadtoast]

OC sketches after a million years... I'm soooo happy bc they're finally looking pretty close to how I imagined T_T I've had these OCs since 2018-2019 but never finalized their designs (and barely ever drew them...) bc I didn't have the skill lvl to draw/design them how I wanted... but ig I've finally improved enough to get p close AAAH🤧

[coreytaylr]

if i dont post at least one (1) heartbreaking stede meta/theory/hc a day, i will die actually

ANYWAYS TLDR stede deserves to heal from his own trauma too ❤️

[number1spongebobfan]

Chapters: 9/? Fandom: Thomas the Tank Engine & Friends, Creepypasta - Fandom, A Christmas Carol - Charles Dickens, My Little Pony Generation 3 (Cartoon 2003), Jewelpet (Anime), Cuccioli Cerca Amici | Puppy in my Pocket: Adventures in Pocketville (Cartoon), SpongeBob SquarePants (Cartoon) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Major Character Death Relationships: Duncan & Skarloey (Thomas the Tank Engine), Duncan & Luke (Thomas the Tank Engine), Donald & Douglas & Duncan (Thomas the Tank Engine), Duncan/Madge (Thomas the Tank Engine), Skarloey & Luke (Thomas the Tank Engine) Characters: Duncan (Thomas the Tank Engine), Skarloey (Thomas the Tank Engine), Luke (Thomas the Tank Engine), Proteus (Thomas the Tank Engine), Glynn (Thomas the Tank Engine), Big Six the Ghost Train (Creepypasta), Rusty's Ghost Engine (Thomas the Tank Engine), The Thin Controller (Thomas the Tank Engine), Madge (Thomas the Tank Engine), Nancy (Thomas the Tank Engine), Donald (Thomas the Tank Engine), Douglas (Thomas the Tank Engine), Minty (My Little Pony G3), Patrick Star, William (Puppy in My Pocket), Mela (Puppy in My Pocket), Sango (Jewelpet) Additional Tags: Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Multiple Crossovers, Retelling, Skarloey Railway, Ensemble Cast, Anthropomorphic, Tags May Change, Hurt/Comfort, Christmas, Song Lyrics, Alternate Universe, Cute, Trains, Ghosts of Christmas, recast, Rusty is Female, Pooh's Adventures-esque, Luke has OCD

Chapter 1: Prologue

Oh what a merry Christmas Day

Hear the joyous music play

Bells are ringing choirs singing

Oh what a merry Christmas Day

Joy to the children far and near

What a wondrous time of year

Isn’t it just grand to say

Merry, merry Christmas (Merry Merry Christmas)

Merry, merry Christmas (Merry Merry Christmas)

Oh what a merry Christmas Day

It was a wonderful winter morning on The Island of Sodor. Everybody was excited, because the holidays were around the corner. The humanoid engines were busy transporting seasonal goods and passengers. They looked forward to spending more time in their sheds due to the shorter days.

“Peep, peep! Merry Christmas Percy, my best friend!” chuffed Thomas the Tank Engine on his snowplow ice-skates.

“Pup, pup! Merry Christmas to you too, Thomas,” chuffed Percy the Small Engine, who couldn't move when in his puffer coat.

But there was one grouchy little engine who hated Christmas. Duncan is a narrow-gauge Andrew Barclay 0-4-0WT. He was bald aside from the visible sideburns. He wore a tam o’ shanter, a baggy long-sleeved band shirt, a kilt, and a bandana around his neck.

Duncan was very rude and liked to complain. When Edward the Blue Engine came near the narrow-gauge track to wish him a Merry Christmas, all Duncan could say was, “Bah Humbug!”

“That’s queer . . .” Edward thought to himself. “And I thought Diesel and Gordon were grouchy!”

Gordon thundered next to Edward. “Hunph! At least I have manners.”

The engines of Misty Island: Bash, Dash, and Ferdinand - were carolling by a tall evergreen tree with a large star on top. Minty from My Little Pony and William from Puppy in My Pocket happily played in the snow. Minty juvenilely pranced around in her socks. She was startled as Duncan let out his deep whistle at her. Minty and William ran away.

“Bah!” scowled Duncan in his gruff Scottish accent. “Why’d a’ haf to take these fancy smanshy coaches with these stupid people inside?” (To be fair, the grumpy engine didn’t like pulling trucks either) “I hate people! I hate everybody ____”

I hate people! I hate people!

People are despicable creatures

Loathesome inexplicable creatures

Good-for-nothing kickable creatures

I hate people! I abhor them!

When I see their indolent classes

Sitting on their indolent asses

Gulping ale from indolent glasses

I hate people! I detest them! I deplore them!

As Duncan sang, the troublesome tank engine twins, Bill and Ben, were about to pull a prank on him.

“Let’s throw this tinsel at him Bill!” snickered Ben.

“Sounds like the right time of year,” agreed Bill. But before they could, Duncan pranked them back by throwing something harder at them - an icepick. Luckily, they dodged.

“So that’s what Father Christmas has for us in store,” joked Ben. The standard-gauge engines zipped back to the China Clay Pits.

Meanwhile on the roads, Bertie the Bus joyfully led passengers in a single-file line with a wreath on his neck. Bulgy - the bigger and fatter double-decker bus - gave a jealous frown. On the rails, Thomas held hands with his coaches Annie and Clarabel. The three merrily hopped along with a festive James chugging by their side. Rowdy old' Duncan uttered reprehensible profanities at James; haughty old' James retorted in disgust.

      I hate people! I loathe people! I despise and abominate people!

Just then, Duncan came to a halt. Railroad crossing! A herd of sheep has blocked his way. Snow from a roof dropped on his cap. Mr. Percival gave a gentle smile. Mrs. Percival chuckled, and their kids laughed.

                                 And I don't care if they hate me!

[maskspurpose]

anon asked: 11 for fine reunion...

**11: Is there any scene you can't wait for people to react to when reading? Why?**

OH MAN. I'm excited to see how all three WataYuzu shippers react to that. And for the reaction for when I put WataEi back on the Ep:Link rooftop the first time because I REALLY want to put them up there again. To talk past each other for an hour.

(https://retrospring.net/@maskspurpose/a/111409040870398811)

[the-acid-pear]

today's prompts are spiders and self insert so i've been thinking of drawing nembone and a uh, bunger. but Im still thinking around the uh. ? i cant remember the word HELP the fucking COMPOSITION there.

[silverview]

i've (basically) finished my long & elaborate chardee edit but it's impossible to upload to tumblr with my crappy home internet so i have to wait and upload it from uni. driving me crazy bc i worked SO hard on it & wanna share it :(

[dollybitten]

[chessbiome]

2025 media thread #1 Mr Mallow Blue

mr mallow blue huh... this is the first manga i read fully in japanese (with some help from the fan translation for lines i wasnt 100% sure about) but despite that it was not a difficult read because the story prioritizes repetition in vocab for emotional emphasis and doesnt use particularly complex vocabulary... im very happy that i read it in this way since a lot of the charm comes from how the characters are navigating their own identity and view of the world which can be particularly difficult to convey adequately in translation.

this is very much a shoujo drama, the focus is the developing dynamic between the main cast and the main plot is directly influenced by how they feel about eachother and how much theyre (not) willing to admit it. i really do enjoy aoi (27 year old man who loves cute things who spends most of the story as a teenage girl) and minazuki (award holder for guy who loves throwing himself under the bus for the sake of others so much he developed an illness about it) and their insecure bumbling towards eachother has been a wonder to watch. you know it says something when a story has a yandere4yandere lesbian couple where one of them has hundreds of crossed out pictures of the other taped to her wall and i care about the moe boygirlfriend guy more.

despite being a bodyswap story between an adult man and teenage girl it does not care at all about acting insecure about its own setting and trying to cover it with atlus-tier no homo jokes. ostensibly discrimination does exist in their world but the writer cares more about the way those people are uniquely fucked up about interpersonal relationships rather than having outside pressure about their romantic interest be the main driving force. it has a nice balance of flashback scenes which set up the events that led to the establishing incident of the story, and the sequential main story of the cast trying to navigate the weird surroundings they found themselves in.

the art is beautiful, especially the color pages. the expressions are great, i really enjoy the combination of eyelashes and eyebags that the mangaka draws because it makes everyone look like theyre at the end of their rope, which is how i remember highschool feeling as well. it would be worth reading just for the art but luckily the story is a refreshing take on a tried and true formula too... the manga isnt finished yet, theres one volume to go and im excited to see where the road will end up... if aoi and minazuki dont end up together i will break something though

[boatemboys]

[shadowkoo]

Drink It Over

→ Summary: Frustrated after another disastrous date and an uncomfortably long dry spell, you drunkenly confide in your best friend about your dick dilemma, or lack thereof. You need a little help getting off, and to your surprise (and maybe a little amusement) he’s more than willing to step up, turning a simple ‘friendly favor’ into something that just might change everything.

↠ seungcheol x f.reader | 3.1k words | 18+ ↠ genre: smut, friends to lovers

→ Warnings: alcohol consumption, consensual drunk sex, unprotected sex, dirty talk, light degradation (if you squint), teasing, messy sex, fingering, praise, edging, begging, brief orgasm denial, orgasm control, sloppy blowjob, face fucking, cock choking / gagging, deep throating, pussy stretching, breast & nipple play, biting, light hair pulling, face riding, oral (male & female receiving), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, creampie, cum play, cheol thinks y/n is perfect (duh he’s simping after you ofc)

→ Networks: tagged below

@ksmutsociety @k-vanity @lapydiaries @keopihaus

@svthub @thediamondlifenetwork

→ Author Note: a big thanks to ally @lovetaroandtaemin for making this banner for me and also for beta reading. i appreciate you sm!!!! this is just a short idea bc i’ve been having a lot of Thoughts™ about cheol lately so ur welcome lol if you prefer to read on ao3, it's been crossposted here! (divider credit)

⋆˙⟡ m.list ⟡⋆⟡ ao3 ⟡⋆⟡ wips ⟡⋆⟡ updates ⟡⋆⟡ shadow realm ⟡˙⋆

"Don’t. Even. Start." You groan, plopping down dramatically across from your best friend, whose smug face is already screaming, I told you so. He doesn't even try to hide his smirk.

"I didn’t say anything," Seungcheol grins, eyes twinkling with mischief as he slides a shot glass your way.

With a resigned sigh, you grab the glass and knock it back, the soju warming you up as it slides down. "If you say ‘I told you so’ I swear I'll..."

"Oh, please," he smirks, already pouring another shot into your empty glasses. "You love my 'I told you so's."

You narrow your eyes, but you can’t stop the smile tugging at the corners of your mouth as you lift the glass to your lips.

"Do you want to guess what it was this time?" you ask, swiping the soju bottle from Seungcheol and pouring the next round.

He leans back, tapping his chin as if he’s deeply contemplating what could have gone wrong, "Hmm… Catfish?"

You shake your head.

"Unemployed?"

Another head shake.

He studies your face with a knowing smirk before tossing back his shot. "Let me guess… He talked about himself the whole time and didn’t ask you a single question?"

"Bingo!" you sigh, and instead of pouring, you take a swig straight from the bottle, finishing it off.

Seungcheol snickers, already waving down the waiter with an exaggerated gesture. "Another over here! My best friend's tragic love life demands it!"

You both burst out laughing, the waiter giving you a bemused look as you lean back and shake your head. "Why do you always have to be right?"

"Oh, it’s a talent," he says with a wink. “And, not to say I told you so… but I told you so. Like, a million fucking times," Seungcheol says, throwing his hands up in mock exasperation. "Seriously, Y/N, you’ve got to stop dating these finance bros who couldn’t care less if you fell off the face of the Earth."

You groan, slumping forward onto the table. "Seriously, ‘Cheol. It’s not like I want to keep going out with these guys. But dating is already impossible, and I’m running out of options to get laid. Desperation is a hell of a motivator, you know?"

He raises an eyebrow. "Desperate enough to date the human equivalent of a Q3 budget presentation?"

You snort, a half-laugh escaping before you sigh. "Normally, I can power through the self-absorbed bullshit, tuning it out until… well, until I at least get to the fun part. But lately, I can’t even make it past dinner without feeling the urge to bolt."

Seungcheol shakes his head with a sympathetic smile, refilling your glasses. "Cheers to raising your standards and saving yourself from the agony of underwhelming penises."

You clink glasses with him, smirking. "I’ll drink to that."

A moment of silence passes and a thought occurs.

“’Cheol?” you begin.

He looks up from his phone with a blank look, waiting for you to continue.

“Will you fuck me, as a favor?”

Seungcheol, startled by your question (rightfully so), nearly chokes. ”Um, repeat that?” He says, after getting his coughing under control.

“Please fuck me. Not right now obviously, I know you must have plans later. But sometime soon? I know you can deliver, and I’m in desperate need of an orgasm.” You plead your case, desperate to get dicked down the way you deserve, but he doesn’t seem all that convinced.

He tilts his head just slightly, trying to read you. There’s no way you can be serious…right?

“Well?” you press, trying to get an answer out of him.

“Well, what?” He huffs, “You’re asking me for a sympathy fuck?”

You nod, searching his eyes for any sort of answer, “Pretty please? Consider it a friendly favor.”

“Pffff, okay. But only since you begged.”

It’s your turn to choke on the half-finished shot raised to your lips. “Wait, really?”

“What kind of friend would I be to let you suffer? You’re in obvious need of a capital O, or three. Plus we kissed on New Year’s Eve.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” you laugh, remembering all too well. Neither of your dates showed up and you both kind of decided, ‘what the hell, why not.’ Neither of you has mentioned it again, until now. Especially not you, with how hot and bothered it left you.

“I don’t know. It felt like the right thing to say. Quit teasing me or I’m gonna take it back,” he says with a fake frown and pouty lips sticking out.

“You don’t want to drink it over-I mean think it over?” you sit back in your chair. “Wow, maybe I need to be cut off for the night.”

Seungcheol laughs as you fumble over your words, knowing very well that you haven’t hit your tolerance yet. He’s witnessed you outdrink everyone, himself included, on several occasions. You just have a habit of jumbling words together and mixing them up at inconvenient times, he clocks it as an anxious thing.

“C’mon, let’s finish this bottle and get out of here.”

Seungcheol unlocks his apartment door with you standing not too far behind him. It’s a routine you’re used to, but everything feels different tonight. As he holds the door open for you, your arms brush, and the light touch sends goosebumps prickling over your skin.

You step inside, slipping off your shoes to fill the silence. “So, uh, this is awkward. What should we do first?” you say with a nervous laugh, trying to cut through the tension.

You didn’t expect him to take your offer up so soon, thinking he’d have plans for the evening. What normally happens in situations like this? As if it’s normal for two friends to hook up…

He doesn’t answer your question with words. Instead, Seungcheol turns to you and pulls you into his arms. His lips find yours, moving softly, testing the waters while holding you close.

It’s familiar; he kissed you like this just a couple of weeks ago, but this time, he tastes of peach-flavored Soju, and it’s addicting–he’s addicting. Your lips mash together furiously while your hands run through his thick hair, twisting his dark strands through your fingers.

You involuntarily moan into his mouth when his tongue dips inside yours. Goddamn. His tongue massages yours, each lick sending a wave of heat directly to your center.

Seungcheol’s chest vibrates, releasing his own sounds of satisfaction as you grab a fistful of his hair. Meanwhile, his arms instinctively tighten around you to pull you even closer.

Somehow, in the midst of being caught up in kissing, you’ve made it into his bedroom. He walks you backward until he lowers you onto his bed, moving quickly to hover directly over you.

Pulling your bottom lip between his teeth, Seungcheol sucks gently before raking his teeth over the swollen flesh.

“’Cheol,” you breathe, once he finally pulls back for air. He looks at you with heat flaring from his eyes.

“If it gets to be too much at any point, tell me to stop. Okay?”

You nod, and his lips reattach to yours.

He’s careful not to move too fast, even though the growing length in his pants practically begs to be let free. He’s on a mission here, and that’s to give you three body-shaking, life-altering, other-worldly orgasms before the night is over.

When he feels like you’re ready, Seungcheol slips a hand under your skirt. His fingers trail the outside of your bare leg leading up to your hip, and he’s surprised to find out that you’re not wearing anything underneath.

“Jesus, Y/N,” he chokes out the words, “You went on a date with that prick without wearing any underwear?”

Your cheeks heat up, “Don’t judge me.”

He chuckles, “No judgment here. If anything, I should praise the fuck out of you for giving me such easy access to your perfect pussy.”

The redness on your face continues to grow from his words, you’re not used to hearing your best friend speak like this. You should be embarrassed by how much it’s turning you on, but you can’t focus on anything else at this moment in time besides Seungcheol’s fingers getting closer and closer to your cunt.

He trails two fingers up your slit, gently rubbing your clit before ever-so-slowly sinking them into your dripping heat.

Your breath quickens when he begins pumping them in and out, curling them inside of you to brush against that one special spot.

“Oh my god, mmm,” you hum, bucking into his hand, unable to hold back.

“That’s it, pretty girl, warm yourself up for what’s to come. I like my sluts wet and needy for me.”

His words send a wave of wetness through your body, coating his fingers as your hips buck again and again.

Faint sounds of your drenched pussy fill the air as his pumps get harsher. “Shit, do you hear how fucking wet you are? So fucking hot,” he growls before smashing his lips into yours, swallowing your moans.

Seungcheol can tell you’re close to your first orgasm; your inner walls are practically sucking his fingers back in with each thrust.

His lips move to your neck and he sucks gently, making sure not to leave any marks - even though he’d love nothing more than to mark you and claim you as his.

So yeah…maybe he’s been secretly dreaming about this. Not exactly the whole ‘friendly fuck’ part of it, but he didn’t want to freak you out earlier when you propositioned him. But you laying in his bed, pantiless and soaked just for him? Yeah, he’s definitely had this dream before. And he really liked how it ended.

“Are you gonna come all over my fingers? I can feel that you’re close. Tell me what you need.”

“More. I need more,” you whine, lifting your hips off the bed to meet his hand.

“How much more?” he grins. “Do you need more of this?” he asks, curling his fingers even further into your pussy. “Or do you need me to tell you how much of a good slut you’re being right now, with your legs spread open for me and your skirt hiked up to your waist?”

“Definitely both,” you mewl, as the tingles in your body start to grow.

Seungcheol’s fingers purposely slow down, wanting to enjoy this just a moment longer just in case you want to stop before going any further.

“What are you doing? Please don’t stop. Please, ‘Cheol, make me cum,” you beg, one of your arms holding his down between your legs.

“Fuck,” he groans, his length twitching in his pants after hearing your pleas. “Anything for you.”

You throw your head back as your center starts to clench around him.

“Cum for me, Y/N.” His demand sends you crashing. Seungcheol admires the way your face twists in pleasure as you unravel around him.

“Absolutely perfect,” he breathes, leaning in to kiss you sweetly for a few seconds. He ends it soon after, noting that there are entirely too many clothes for his liking.

Standing up, he steps back to make the first move to undress and takes off his shirt. He drops it to the floor and looks up at you, soundlessly saying ‘your turn’.

You take a deep breath and push yourself up too. You’re actually doing this.

He watches you like a hawk as you let the fabric of your now-wrinkled skirt fall to the ground. Then, your arms move to your shirt, pulling it over your head and adding it to the growing pile of garments on the floor. Seungcheol sucks in a breath when your hands move behind your back to unclasp your bra, his eyes glued to the lacey fabric that slowly reveals the most beautiful pair of breasts he’s ever seen.

Round, plump, and perfect. Just like the rest of you.

You raise an eyebrow, then drop your hungry gaze to his crotch briefly before looking back up at him, as if to say ‘checkmate’.

Seungcheol sighs, this night keeps getting better and better. His hands work to undo his zipper before he shoves his pants off - boxer briefs quickly falling suit.

Your mouth waters when his length springs out of the falling fabric, bouncing up against his abs. You’ve heard rumors that your best friend was packing, and they don’t disappoint. Damn.

“Look at you, you’re practically drooling,” he says with a smirk, taking a step closer to you as he pumps his velvety length. “Are you a greedy little cockslut?”

Dropping to your knees, you nod frantically. You’re dying to feel the weight of his thick member in your hand, and the taste of his rosy tip.

“Open wide.”

You oblige and let him guide his girth into your mouth.

Seungcheol’s body shudders as you close your mouth around him. He tenses as his length goes further into your wet heat, nearly losing it when he touches the back of your throat.

“Jesus, baby,” he says shakily. He allows you to take over momentarily while he composes himself and nearly cums when you wrap your soft hand around his dick.

“Mmmm,” you hum, making a satisfying ‘pop’ noise when you come back for air. Keeping eye contact, you lower your lips and leave a light kiss under the rim of his head, before devouring his full length again.

His hips jerk from the sudden change of pace, and he sucks in air when your cheeks hollow.

“That’s it,” he purrs, running a hand through your hair. With a handful of your curls, Seungcheol holds your head in place as he thrusts into your inviting open mouth; gently at first but each thrust after has a little more edge to it. You can feel your throat bulging from how far down he goes.

You gag around him, your eyes watering from the intrusion, and you force your jaw to stay relaxed because you don’t want this to end yet.

The way Seungcheol looks down at you with so much admiration and awe has your pussy clenching around nothing.

His thrusts become less powerful but contain more speed, and he lets out a slew of expletives.

“Fuck!” Seungcheol growls, pulling out before it’s too late. He leaves only a string of drool connecting his cock to your mouth. He only wants to cum in one place right now, and that’s inside your pretty little cunt right after he splits it open.

“Get back on the bed and spread your fucking legs for me,” he grunts, pumping his length with the remnants of your spit.

You waste no time getting into position, your pussy practically begging for more attention.

“Such a gorgeous cunt,” he mutters, “I can’t wait to ruin it.”

Seungcheol climbs over you, and you moan simultaneously through your connected lips as his tip meets your hot center.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this,” he admits in between kisses, his length rubbing through your sticky folds before sinking home.

“Oh, god!” you cry out, your hands digging into his tensed back muscles.

“Fuuuck,” he drags out, “You’ve got the tightest pussy I’ve ever fucked,” Seungcheol groans, head falling forward into the crook of your neck once he’s pushed all the way in.

There’s only one word to describe it. Perfect. Absolutely fucking perfect. He savors how good you feel beneath him, how right it feels to be inside you.

“Listen, I appreciate you being gentle given your size,” you pant, “But please fuck me hard, ‘Cheol. I can take it*.*”

That’s all he needs to hear before drastically picking up the pace.

“Yes! Just like that!” you scream, your voice blending in with the sinful slapping sounds echoing between you. He stretches you out in the most wonderful way; you’re close to seeing stars each time he pounds into you.

“Is this what you wanted? To get fucked into my sheets like a nasty little slut? Tell me.” His hand grips the bottom of your chin, forcing you to look at him.

It’s impossible to form words right now, but he can tell by your blissed-out face that you’re clearly getting exactly what you crave.

Seungcheol loves how your breasts bounce in rhythm with his thrusts; he can’t help but grab one, massaging the supple flesh between his fingers.

You melt into his touch and let out a gasp when he pinches your nipple, giving it a gentle twist that sends a wave of heat directly down between your legs.

“Shit,” he curses, feeling you get wetter. You’re close.

His hand slides down your stomach and lands on your clit, expertly massaging the sensitive nub until you’re squirming beneath him.

“Seungcheol! Fuck!” you choke out as your luscious walls constrict around his cock. He helps you ride out the rest of your shockwaves, entranced by your fluttering eyelids and parted lips.

He’s not far behind you. This look of yours alone is enough to snap the coil and release his milky load into you.

He pumps into you one last time, shooting the last of his seed into your depths, before rolling off of you.

You lay next to each other, catching your breath in your post-incredible sex haze.

“Wow,” you sigh.

“Oh, we’re not done yet,” Seungcheol says with a smirk, his head turned to look at you.

“’Cheol, I can’t move,” you admit.

“Throw a leg over my body and I’ll do the rest, baby.”

Again, you oblige, and question when his hands land on your ass cheeks, pulling you up high and higher on his body.

“What are you-” your words are lost when he pulls your hovering lower half onto his face. His tongue wastes no time to find your clit, swirling the bundle of nerves into his mouth.

You cry out when he starts sucking and grab onto his headboard to stop yourself from falling over.

He laps at your opening with his tongue before diving in. Seungcheol doesn’t care that he can taste himself while he eats your sweet cunt, you’re too tempting. He’s intoxicated by your scent, your flavor, you.

“Fuck I’m g-gonna cum again. ‘Cheol- I’m cumming,” you mewl, your hips bucking like crazy from the third wave of ecstasy washing over your body.

His fingers dig into your hips to hold you in place as you writhe against his face, coming completely undone.

You flop back into the space next to Seungcheol, every nerve in your body satiated and spent.

He grins and pulls you into his side, “So, little ‘Cheol might need a quick nap break, but then he’ll be back in business for another round…”

A bubble of laughs bursts out of you.

“I don’t know if little is the right word, my cervix would love to disagree with you on that. I’m down for a nap though, and maybe a snack break to re-energize. We need the calories after that.”

“Deal.”

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[strawberrystepmom]

ready to eat

pairing: Yami Sukehiro x F!Noble Reader

word count: 4.9k

contents: NSFW - minors and ageless blogs dni, I will hard block you. Takes place in canon universe, there is a slight age/experience difference insinuated between the pairing but reader is at least 25, reader has named magical ability (movement magic), so much banter, oral sex (f receiving and finishing and it's sexy)

cw: mentions of marriage and misogyny, virginity (reader is a virgin)

notes: brain rot has proven to be fatal so here you are. this is open ended and i would not consider it a oneshot bc i'd love to write more about these two. hope you enjoy! thank you for reading ♡ | crossposted to ao3, divider by @cafekitsune

you can find more about these two here, here, here and here 🖤

Nighttime is your time, a lesson you taught yourself independent of your instructors many years ago. 

Movement magic allows you the luxury of blending in with your scenery, rushing unseen toward a capital district that is on the opposite end of where your family has made their name. Nobody here would recognize you even if you were less discreet, cloak gathered around your face and obscuring any unidentifiable features, and the freedom is indescribable; better than every sunny day or freshly made tea dessert. 

You are free to be yourself. Unmarried, unattached, unimportant, it doesn’t matter. You stumble into the usual inn you make your domain until the sun rises, ready to watch the way people you have little in common with live. If anyone knew you’d get reprimanded, probably rightfully, though you have never quite understood the scandal that lies in being a well informed woman. Your mother was a gossip and isn’t that another way to become informed? 

It’s society's acceptable way, anyway.

You slink into the corner table, away from the crowd gathered nearer the bar, and slip your hood off of your face. No glances of recognition from anyone else, too engrossed in their own drinks and their own conversations, and you sink down against the back of the chair you’re sitting in. It’s nice to be anonymous, you decided months ago when you began doing this. You aren’t certain you want to continue being so inconspicuous when you remind yourself why you’ve been doing this to begin with - to gain even the slightest bit of the life experience that continues to elude you. To love and laugh and feel joy that you’ve been told only comes with marriage, something you are too apprehensive about committing to. 

It’s why you come namelessly into a district that does not belong to you or your kind. You hope that someone will find you interesting, a beaten path off their life’s track. Someone to laugh with or tell stories to. It’s all you’ve ever really wanted, a romantic to your core despite the decidedly unromantic life you lead. Caretaking, getting earfuls from your father about being a responsibility that the family no longer wants to have when taking your age and failed proposals into consideration. So lost in your own thoughts, you barely notice when a man slides into the chair next to you, glancing down at your hands and then at your face.

“You need to stop wearing whatever is making you smell like that.”

The interruption to your quiet evening makes you jump, no longer dissociating and now in the present. You recognize the man sitting next to you, a captain of a Magic Knights squad. Their faces are plastered all over the capital and you’re shocked that he stumbled into such a low brow establishment though getting a look at him up close convinces you that he may not be in the entirely wrong spot.

“Captain Sukehiro,” you offer politely, formal as ever. “I regret having to request clarification from a man as esteemed as yourself but what do you mean?”

The captain snorts, shaking his head in response to you as though your manners are piteous instead of a courtesy that should be extended to all. 

“Don’t call me that, Yami is fine.” He sniffs, stuffing a cigarette between his lips. “I’m talking about the shit you’re wearing that is filling every corner of this place. People don’t wear things that make them smell like bakeries around here.” 

Scrunching your nose, you lift your wrist to your nose for a sniff. He’s referencing the perfume you spritzed on after bathing and the way it sticks to you, the smell wafting around the table with every move you make. It hasn’t caught any eyes yet, thankfully, but he can see how this will end if you don’t correct your mistake now. 

“What are you doing around here anyway? I figured women of your, uh, breed or whatever stuck to their own districts.” 

Bristling slightly at his insinuation that you find yourself too good to hang out here, you square your shoulders and clear your throat. A low chuckle rumbles in Yami while he lights his cigarette, raising his brows and eagerly awaiting whatever argument you are clearly cooking up in that little head of yours. 

“I’ll have you know that I enjoy exploring parts of the city that I rarely see. I am out here thanks to my own curiosity.” Your eyes shift from Yami toward the rest of the tavern, a small smile on your face watching the patrons laugh amongst themselves. “I think it’s really wonderful that people are happy no matter how they were born into this world and I’m thankful to be able to experience this side of life too.”

The captain could spend all night laughing at your naivety if you’d let him but he doesn’t wanna let you dig any deeper of a hole than you’re already finding yourself in. You’re clearly a fully grown woman, even the doll-like roundness of your eyes and cheeks can’t convince him you’re under 25 judging from the way you carry yourself. You aren’t the first noble girl he has ever seen sneak off in an attempt to find herself yet it strikes him as hilarious you clearly believe it.

“So you aren’t like the other nobles? You see people as people?” The brusque individual takes a long drink from the mug in his hand, Adam’s apple bobbing while he swallows, your eyes fixed on the sheer size of his neck and throat. “What do you want? A prize?”

Even the enticing muscles of his body (how can one person have so many muscles bulging off of them anyway?) cannot distract enough to forget that he’s insulting you. You place your hands in your lap and fiddle with the edge of the cloak that covers the simple nightgown you are wearing, covering it enough that no one is suspicious about why you’re wearing nightclothes in the first place. 

“No, I’m simply telling you what I’m doing here because you asked.”

Sipping from his mug, the man glances you up and down. He swallows and squares his shoulders.

“Okay? That still doesn’t tell me what you’re actually doing here, you’re only talking about feelings and shit.” Another sip and he places his ale down. “So what are you doing here? Isn’t it a little late for your type to be out with the rest of us?”

He considers you for a moment. Not bad looking. Pretty, even. Not plain in the way some overly manicured noble women can come across and you clearly aren’t using magic to enhance anything about you or else he’d notice. He’s a pro at sniffing out transformation magic in women having seen so many who have taught themselves to dabble in the arts to subtly tweak their appearances. You sigh and he finds it impressively naive to do so, your shoulders pinching in while you exhale sharply out of your nose. 

“I’m looking for someone to help me.” Now this is interesting. He raises a brow, glancing you up and down. You lean toward him, creating a veil of intimacy in a crowded tavern, elbows resting on the table rudely. “I, um, I fear I’ll be woefully unprepared for my marriage bed once the time arrives and I want to avoid embarrassment. I’m already too old to be considered marriageable to most and my heart could not take physical rejection from my husband as well.”

“You’re a virgin and feel weird about it and now you’re makin’ it my problem.”

Gasping, your eyes widen and you shake your head rapidly. Yami smirks when he senses how quickly your heart is pounding beneath those layers of fabrics most in this place could only ever dream of seeing much less feel against their skin, curious enough that he won’t just tell you to get lost at this point. 

“Please do not repeat my predicament so loudly, Captain Sukehiro.” You whisper hiss, fighting the urge to kick him beneath the table as you do the rest of your fathers’ unruly issue you are the eldest of. “It’s not something I’m terribly proud of.”

The captain scoffs, humming to himself and adjusting his posture so that he’s leaning toward you instead of on the back of his chair, cigarette dangling from his fingers. You’ve captured his attention, at least for now, and he’ll give you all of it that you can handle. Pursing his lips, he glances around the bar for a split second before focusing on you, gray eyes locked on your pouting mouth.

“Then why is it your situation in the first place? Thought you nobles were too proud for your own good.” He flicks the lighter in his pocket. “And don’t call me that. Yami is fine.”

You should find it very rude that you are being asked so many questions and being made to suit so many demands made by a lesser born to begin with but the curiosity feels like deeply personalized attention, causing you to bloom in response. Hunched shoulders stretch out, the graceful posture you’ve spent what would amount to months of your life if you stretched the hours out perfecting appearing. No one at home is this curious about you outside of when you will no longer be around to tend the younger children your father continues to spawn and it feels different to be the center of a man’s attention. 

Not a weak, defanged little noble whose only function is to act as an additional limb for his father. A man with rough hands and battle scars and overgrown hair down his neck. 

“I haven’t felt a spark with any of the men I’ve been introduced to. They’re lovely individuals with proud lineage but it has always felt so…” you search around the room, lifting your hand to your mouth to idly nip at the cuticle around your thumbnail. “Forced. I don’t want to be with them and they do not want to be with me. Four men and none of them made me feel like I could spend the rest of my life with them.”

Once again, Yami chuckles at your predicament. Your cheeks heat in response, ears tingling and burning as that familiar feeling of being mocked encourages you to retreat inward. The awareness that you do not have to put up with this kind of treatment from a man beneath your station 

“Sounds like you’re hard to impress, kid.” A plume of smoke is blown over your head, the cigarette he was holding now dangling from his lips while he examines you with narrowed eyes. “Little darling won’t settle for less than a fairytale.”

Retreating further into yourself, you move your hands from your lap to fold your arms over your chest.

“I’m no child, obviously.” 

Your retort is as petulant as your posture and the man smirks, the corner of his mouth jumping, tenting his fingers in front of him and leaning toward you. Despite himself, he likes you. Your willingness to shit here and just shoot the shit with him has impressed him but not enough to let you off easy. 

“You’re here beggin’ for attention like one so I dunno about all that.”

Scoffing, you shift in your chair but make no effort to get up. You won’t be picked off by him that easily. 

“You know nothing about me, sir.” You raise your brows and shift your head to emphasize your point, arms still folded. A grown woman behaving like a little brat shouldn’t draw a man like this in yet he considers himself intrigued, stamping out the nearly depleted butt of his cigarette on the edge table in front of him. 

“Can’t argue with that. Keep talking.” 

He leans back in his chair and sizes you up, boots stacked on top of each other where his ankles are crossed and his long legs are extended out in front of him. It’s one thing to be keeping him here against his will because you won’t stop talking, it’s another when he is a willing audience. Your mouth runs dry and you gradually unfold your arms, placing them above your knee so you can subtly rid your clammy palms of the prickling sweat across them.

“I want to experience the things that a husband and wife are to experience together though I do not have anyone to enjoy them with.” Even the way nobles describe sex is stuffy and uncomfortable, Yami realizes, brows raising slightly. He lets you continue speaking before butting in, letting his arms dangle from the sides of the chair. “Perhaps it’s wrong of me to believe it will change my luck but I won’t change my mind. I have to know how to…perform.”

Perform is such an interesting choice of word. All of the sex the captain has ever had has been far less of a performance and more of a two person dance, locked in repetitive motions and tangled up as one form. He isn’t much for the sappy, intimate shit you’re clearly insinuating you’d like though he feels like he could help you.

“I’ll tell you what,” he starts, leaning back toward you and closing the distance to once again grant you some semblance of privacy. “I can show you how a man should treat a woman but I can’t promise you it’s how a husband will treat his wife, you understand?”

Your eyes widen and you nod once, picking up on his meaning immediately. Impressed by your sharp wit he smiles although it’s nearly as unfriendly as the ones exchanged at court and only slightly less smug. Leaning in toward him, your brows knit together, and you bunch your skirt up in your fists.

“I don’t know if I’m ready for, you know…” you trail off, frowning slightly. He pretends like he doesn’t understand what you mean, shaking his head and staring vacantly at your mouth. “I don’t know if I’m ready for you to take me.”

Another snort from him and your face heats like a wildfire. The two of you remained locked in this strange posture, whispering but not quite, discussing the terms of whatever is occurring here. Blood rushes from your face to your chest to your stomach, a familiar tense feeling between your legs making you shift uncomfortably in your chair.

“The only one who would be doing any taking in that scenario is me and you don’t have to worry about that tonight.” He tips his mug and finishes off the last droplets of his ale, sliding the empty vessel across the table top where it stops just short of you. 

“What if we never see each other again after tonight?” That sappy shit he was right to assume you wanted has surfaced earlier than he expected. He shrugs flippantly, arching a brow. “Then we never see each other tonight but at least you can say you know how it feels when a man takes care of you.”

Inhaling loudly, you weigh your options. 

You can always get up and go home, turn tail and run to where you will always be viewed as something akin to a decorative sconce on the wall instead of a human being. Your opinion matters not, you’re a glorified caretaker for your younger siblings, some of who are your fathers rightful heirs thanks to the boyhood the Gods so mercifully granted them. You can retreat and continue wasting away waiting for a man who thrills you enough that you can ever see him as someone deserving of being your equal. 

Or, you can consider Yami’s offer. He’s rough around the edges and speaks with no formality or regard and you like it. At least you think you do. He doesn’t care who you are any more than the others around you do yet he makes you feel the most seen anyone ever has. He’s interested in your words, your ideas, and even your pleasure - a realization that makes the knot in your stomach tighten further.

“Okay.” You concede. “I think that I’d like that.”

The man rises from his seat, smirking, tossing some coins down on the table in front of him for the drink. 

“I know you will,” he finishes, words dripping with honesty but not arrogance. 

He begins to head toward the stairs that will lead the two of you upstairs and your breath catches when he looks over his shoulder and raises his brows, signaling with a wave that you should follow him. You toss a few more coins on the table in front of you, uncertain of how much a room in an establishment like this would cost to begin with, and rush to follow him with your cloak pulled tightly against your body.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

This room is nothing like your quarters at home where everything around you gleams in gold and marble and silk. It may be decidedly less impressive though it’s twice as cozy if you’re honest. 

The bed is barely large enough for two and there’s a well loved desk pushed against the wall, magical light flickering from the wall. Shutting the door unceremoniously, you swallow and feel the captain at your back, a large palm covering the entirety of the space between your shoulder blades. You don’t recall him seeming so imposing downstairs, glancing upward to meet his eyes. He can tell you are inexperienced solely by how skittish you’ve become beneath his fingertips, an intriguing shift from who you were sitting opposite him.

Boldly asking a man to pleasure you has told him everything about the person you are beneath the skirts and the trappings of society. If he waits long enough he knows that hungry girl will once again show her face to him and while he isn’t particularly patient, he believes it would be worth his while to wait. 

“Go sit on the edge of the bed.” He instructs right above your ear and gently shoves you toward where he’s commanded you be. 

You follow directions and sit, legs dangling off of the edge, unfastening your cloak and letting it rest on the bed. The knot in your belly remains tight, keeping you on edge with all of your movements while your walls throb weakly, arousal and curiosity bearing down on you with similar weight. Sukehiro towers over you, slowly unfastening his belt and cloak, leaving the leather goods and his katana on the desk. 

“I’m going to lick your pussy. Do you know what that means?”

Cheeks warming, once again surprised by his lack of decency, you nod once. You have read about this particular act more than once and have also heard about it secondhand from some of the married women you call friends although their reviews have been mixed. Books have always made it seem far more interesting, an exchange in the same way a kiss is between a man and the paradise between a woman’s legs. 

“Good, at least I won’t have to explain all the technicalities.” He approaches you slowly and squats down, now face level with your middle. You glance down at him and wonder if you should touch him, if he’d like it, if he’d want you to. “Lift your hips.” The next command gives you reprieve from overthinking and you do as asked, raising them enough that he can pull your nightgown from beneath your thighs, spreading them to fit between.

“If you don’t like something, speak up.” He glances up at you, holding your nightgown halfway over his face. “If you do like something, speak up and I’ll keep goin’.”

The linen of your nightgown stretches and tents in the shape of Yami’s head and shoulders when he pulls it over himself, too big to be fully covered by the fabric. His back is curled into a C shape and the muscles ripple while he positions you, hands that you can feel but cannot see gripping the outside of your soft thighs to keep you from deciding at the last minute you are feeling shy. 

It’s too late for you to fall back on the shy act now, your panties dangling off of one of your ankles. Even if you attempted, you know the man currently fixated on spreading you open with his fingers would surface from beneath your skirt and laugh at you. Your heart simply could not take the open derision and ridicule, already feeling overextended thanks to this evening’s excitement.

“Alright, you’re about to feel something different,” he warns kindly, puffs of his breath fanning out against the slickened skin of your labia. The low rumble of his voice sends another rush of wetness seeping out of your cunt, excitement mixing with terror while you await the pleasure you were promised. 

Your hips shift impatiently on the edge of the dingy inn bed, legs on either side of his still dressed torso. His tank top is untucked from his pants and he no longer wears his belt, discarding the unnecessary while remaining firmly in control of the situation. There isn’t much that makes his mouth water but the sight of warm and just for him pussy is doing just that, his tongue darting out to wet his lower lip.

His thumbs massage the outside of your thighs, keeping you as relaxed as possible, and he leans in to kiss the temptation he can no longer deny himself. A simple smack, loud enough that you can both hear it, yet the moan that escapes you is positively sinful. High pitched and breathy and immediately obscured, clapping your palm over your mouth to keep yourself quiet. 

“Nope,” he simply responds from beneath your nightgown, hand reaching up to remove yours from over your mouth. “What’d I tell you? Half’a the fun is hearing how much you like it.”

One of the thumbs that was rubbing circles into your thigh now does the same on the back of your hand, calloused digit occasionally catching over the surface of your smooth skin. It’s no shock that your hands are soft like your body and your hair and your eyes, it’s what your life was meant to be like the minute you assumed the role of it.  Soft and easy, no roughness to throw you off track.

Yami chuckles and lets his tongue feel you this time, dragging the wet muscle through your folds, rewarded with another of those breathy moans. You do not rush to cover this one, tilting your head backward and letting your eyes flutter shut to focus on the sensation of another lick. He takes his time to get to know you slowly, brushing the flat of it over your hole and dragging the arousal he receives as a reward upward toward your clit.

He doesn’t release his skills on your sensitive bud so quickly but a simple brush of the side of his tongue against it is enough to make you squeal, shoulders rounding in momentarily. Repeating the motion, you squeal again and arch your back, thrusting your hips forward into his face and dragging every bit of you he can see across his mouth.

“W-what are you doing to me, Yami?” You ask breathlessly, elbows propping you up on the bed and keeping you grounded. “I’ve never felt anything like this before.”

Your head swims with unfamiliar pressure, sparking a line from your brain to between your legs, all connected and you fight the urge to slump back onto the bed, too curious about the way that the light linen covering the man between your legs shrouds him. 

“Eating, obviously,” he mumbles against your body, tongue lapping against your clit. Your body reacts to each touch, thighs tensing on either side of his face, hips slowly bucking in pursuit of the feeling again and again. Your back arches and your moans are staccato babbles, elbows finally failing to hold you up when he gives your clit full attention.. “Oh my, wh–,” your back arches off of the bed before you can finish your thought, another rough lick to your throbbing clit followed by the warmth of his mouth while he sucks it between his lips, flicking the bundle of nerves with the tip of his tongue. 

There is no denying that you may be prissy and perfectly pampered but he was clearly correct in his assumption about you being more than meets the eye. The way your body responds naturally to his ministrations, hips grinding and toes curling and lips keening, tells him every little secret you’re too demure to spill. You want to have sex for enjoyment, to chase your own pleasure and have your own fun. 

He’ll never fault someone for that although he believes he can get you to admit it’s the truth. Maybe not tonight but eventually he’ll convince you to drop the “good wife” act. If he weren’t enjoying himself so much he’d grumble about considering a future where the two of you will meet up for this again, too lost in his own enjoyment of your pretty noises to realize how unreasonable this was to begin with.

“Please keep going,” you beg, a tearless sob thickening your voice. 

Yami doesn’t look up, well aware of what he is capable of, but he keeps his hand over yours and continues rubbing gentle circles into it. You flip your hand and face your palm upward, loosely tangling your fingers with his, your hips now dragging across his lips wildly. It’s messy and you are dripping like a peak season fruit, drenching his chin and sending little droplets down onto his tank top and chest. Moans increase in pitch when his tongue dips inside of you, lapping at your sweetness and drinking it down with satisfied grunts, though he can tell you’re close solely by how you ride his face alone.

You lack the words to describe how you feel, not that you are a stranger to self pleasure, but it’s different when someone else is showing you the maximum of how you can feel. Every inch of you buzzes with a pleasant awareness, nerve endings sparking like celebratory fireworks, and you lift yourself up with your elbows to glance down at the man making you feel more than you ever thought possible, your nightgown no longer around his head. You were so lost you didn’t even realize he shifted to holding your nightgown up above your belly button with the hand you aren’t keeping occupied, those astute eyes appreciatively watching your chest heave and face twist.

“Yami, I think,” you start and he chuckles, sucking your clit between his lips again, sending you over the edge and effectively making sure you know how exactly it feels when someone else makes you cum. 

Dots of light spark in the corners of your vision and you slump down onto the bed, too spent from the strength of your orgasm to remain upright. The perpetrator of your current state untangles your fingers from his wordlessly and he rises to standing, leaning over your exhausted body and propping himself up with his forearm.

“Good as you thought it would be?” 

Giggling, you nod. It’s all you can think to do, truly left wordless and thoughtless, grateful that what you read on the pages of the books you hide amongst your more chaste picks were somewhat accurate to how the experience feels. There has been no insinuation that he expects reciprocation so you don’t bring it up, quietly glancing up at him and noticing that the distance between your face and his decreases every few seconds.

“Now taste.” 

He closes the little distance left, tongue pressing against the seam of your lips. You grant him entrance and whimper when your mouth fills with the taste of his tongue, a mixture of acrid tobacco and ale and something you could only recognize as yourself. 

“Pretty good, right?” All you can do is nod dumbly, still splayed awkwardly across the bed. Should you leave? Should you stay? Is that pesky reciprocation going to come into the conversation now? Yami glances down at you with something you’d almost mistake for warmth in his cool irises, rolling onto his back beside you and folding his arms over his chest. “Are you going to head home now or what?” 

You shake your head, letting your flipped up skirt rest against your belly, the air of the room cooling your heated skin. “No but I’m not going to expect you to stay if you have other business to attend to. I will stay the night and leave before sunrise.”

It’s what’s polite. You did pay for an entire night, after all, and your raising will not allow you to be rude. Pushy and precocious at times but never outright disrespectful. The man next to you sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, turning his face to look at you. 

Maybe you are as pretty as he originally thought. It could be all the blood rushing from his head to his dick, a problem he is attempting to solve mentally by envisioning anything but the satisfying contractions of your cunt while it cums for him, but you glow even in this low light. 

“Only thing I have to do is go downstairs and drink and then I’ll just end up running my mouth and losing money.” 

You giggle at his honesty, turning your face to look at him. The gruffness only adds to his aura, as unrefined as a man can be, yet you really do like it. Even if the two of you sit here in silence for the rest of the night, there’s much you feel you can learn by simply gazing at him, a quiet battle of wills unfolding between the two of you like the mist that fills the city on a summer morning. 

Permeating, inescapable, potentially trouble.