#i can continue to the other asks in my inbox. oops

[astrobei]

Hello Suni astrobei. For end of year asks, I ask you 2 and 12

hi abby strangeswift !! ok so i got a couple asks for 2 so i’m going to answer that one elsewhere so i can focus my full attention on Gushing !

12. talk about a new friend you made this year

ok i’m about to get seriously so sappy so if you don’t feel like reading through all this feel free to Leave (no hard feelings LOL)

i’m someone who has a pretty small social circle irl so i never thought i’d meet so many wonderful ppl this year, and definitely not online and definitely not because i started writing fanfiction again LOL like if u told january suni this she’d look at u like 👁👁 on a more serious note though this year was insane for me. so much changed really quickly in my life and i’m so beyond grateful that amidst all the chaos i was led to all of u guys ! literally if we’ve had even one conversation on here there’s a very high chance i’ve referred to u as a friend irl so. do with that what u will.

abby and ella (@elekinetic) and sierra (@finalgirlbyers) i want u guys to know that i treasure u all So Much. like even if our convos are sporadic or if we talk exclusively through asks ur presence on my dash brings me so much joy and i look forward to each post u make and each message and each ask and each incoherent ramble in the tags !! i don’t have Favorite Mutuals but if i did it would be u guys because it’s insane how much i light up seeing ur urls ! i hope 2023 brings so many more wonderful interactions w u guys, u rly make my mindless scrolling on tumblr 100x more fun

yvie @nnilkyway HELLO i am so so beyond grateful i met them this year ! what a strange stroke of luck too bc i was so obsessed w their art before we met and hearing him say he was a big fan of my work was like. mind boggling. anyways yvie is literally one of the funniest people i have ever met in my life oh my god it’s so rare for me to find people whose sense of humor just Clicks with mine but like. four messages in and we were sending each other memes and becoming best friends and it was fantastic! i have never once felt weird or intimidated talking to them which is crazy for me, a person who feels weird and intimidated a Lot, and also need i reiterate his INSANE TALENT !! like holy shit ! my go to person for talking about gf mike wheeler or mitski or literally just anything and everything. yvie if you’re reading this i am putting u in my pocket and holding u so close. mwah. also we are married, btw. if anyone cares.

haven @bookinit02 OK. you all have heard me gush about haven a million and one times on this blog and i’m sure you’ve seen her gush about me because she’s (rightfully) obsessed with me (/j. kind of) but haven was the first friend i ever made in the byler community which is so so beyond insane to me. i fell in love with her writing so instantaneously and you guys should’ve been there to see my reaction when i saw her leave her first comment on my fic. literally screamed it was so embarrassing 😭 we talked exclusively through ao3 comments for a while because she’d yell every time i updated ihcisc and i’d yell every time she updated her season 2 rewrite and then one day she dm’d me asking me to make a twt to add me to a byler gc and the rest was History. anyways haven is one of the most talented most creative people i’ve ever met BUT she’s also one of the sweetest and most compassionate people on the face of this planet and deserves nothing but good things always ! she’s one of those people that i need to talk to every day or i’ll go insane and i love how our convos can speedrun the entire human spectrum of emotions within like. 5 minutes. she’s so incredibly supportive and my #1 hype girl and she has the freaky ability to entirely turn my mood around on a bad day in less than 20 seconds. she literally managed to sleuth around and find my venmo just to send me soup money. if i could buy her Everything then i literally would. i would eat cilantro for her. i would watch the mlvn makeout scene for her. i would get my socks wet for her. literally i would do anything for her and i can’t wait until i see her in june and i chase her in circles around the airport and then we kiss👩🏼‍❤️‍💋‍👩🏽 and we Hug so tight and platonically 🫂

thea @wiseatom u already know. i tell her every day that i would do literally anything she asked of me and it’s true! literally 2 minutes ago she said “suni u should dye ur hair green” and for a moment i seriously considered it. anyways thea is objectively the funniest fucking person i have ever met in my life and is also my twin. if my twin were blond and taller and also a different age. in all seriousness though thea feels like the world’s most insane older sister to me and as an Actual older sister i’m really loving the feral little sibling treatment. she’s so insane easy to talk to (probably bc our brains work in the exact same way) and Oozes talent from literally every single cell in her body. she sends me a snippet of her work and i spend the next 10 minutes rolling on the floor trying not to SCREAM. there are so few people who can make me laugh as much as she does but also turn me into a blubbering mess of a baby with her Evil Cruel Prose 2 seconds later but thea wiseatom has been put on this planet to achieve the impossible. i have rarely felt so seen as i do when i talk to her, whether it’s for advice or Wallowing or complaining about our disproportionately large heads together, she is so kind and supportive and one of my favorite people Ever. i can’t believe the universe put her 3000 miles away from me because i Need to be a menace to her in person but we’ll make it work. every day i say goodnight to her at 8 pm my time and then say good morning to her at 2 am my time and then i go to bed <3 thea if you’re reading this (and u better be. i tagged u) i hope u know that u are the light of my life and i am packing my bindle as we speak to begin the cross country trek. mwah.

@andiwriteordie ANDI ! i miss talking to u every day but u are so busy with ur big girl job and cranking out quality fics at light speed so i’ll give u a pass 😔 andi is literally a legend in the byler fic community so when i found out she Knew Who I Was,,, i died. i literally died. even when we haven’t talked in a while i love how we can pick up a convo like nothing has changed or send posts that remind us of each other or go crazy apeshit in each others tags like there’s no tomorrow !! andi is so so inspirational to me, she is so kind and creative and full of positivity (even if her writing is mean and full of Sadness and Misery. still haven’t forgiven u for descent, btw) she feels like my other older sister and she has such an insane way with words that i will never understand ! thank u for singlehandedly keeping byler tumblr going, i hope 2023 is so kind to u and u get ultra promoted and have so much fun at the eras tour like u deserve <3

moon aka @smoosnoom omg ok not only is moon so crazy talented but she is such! a sweet person! back when i started writing for byler she was such an enigma to me, an ao3 user and a total Mystery, so i never expected us to actually talk and now! here we are! she is so uplifting and supportive and i’ve loved getting to know her over the past few months, whether it’s bonding over our shared hatred (affectionate. mostly) of finn wolfhard or bawling our eyes out to everything everywhere (oh my god.) seeing her comment on my first fic literally made my heart stop dead in my chest. she has such a gift for making everyone feel so immediately accepted and welcome in any space, and i will spend the rest of my life stewing in anger that she’s taller than me. that feels extremely, unfathomably illegal. anyway moon if ur reading this (and u also better be! bc i tagged u!!) i hope the new year is so good to u <3 mwah ily

[sku11s1asher]

Kinktober Day 1: Edging

lyney x top male reader

notes: guess who’s doing kinktober?? me!! pretend i posted this earlier since i couldn’t find a list until last sec, oops. ignore the fact that this is short and totatllyyy not rushed.. i don’t even know the characters i wanna do so PLEASE DM OR SPAM MY INBOX WITH CHARACTERS YOU WANNA SEE!! if a day doesn’t get posted on time, i promise ill post it eventually trust

cw: edging (obv), one slap on his thigh, sharp ass nails, crying, im a sucker for lyney sorry guys

It must be a wonderful feeling to have Lyney, the great magician of Fontaine, the future successor to Arlechino, right under your fingertips, literally. Such a strong man, reduced to a whimpering and begging mess, all because of a little touching. He looked so beautiful though, his makeup ruined, back arched, cock leaking, body on full display, just for you.

A needy whine left his lips, “Please, I- I can’t!” Your eyes flickered up, tilting your head at him, “You can’t what? Use your big boy words, baby.” He could barely open his eyes to look at you, everything was too much. His arm went over his face when your hand slowly started moving again, it took everything in him to not buck his hips. He needed to cum so badly, why are you being such an asshole?

You leaned down to kiss his stomach before taking your hand off his cock. You’ve only been edging him for 15 minutes, it’s pathetic how quickly he became a mess. After staring at him for a few moments longer, you finally grabbed the lube, opening it, and pouring it over his dick, watching as it slowly dripped down towards his hole.

—

Maybe it was too much, he was squeezing around your fingers so tightly, thighs squeezing around you. Every sound that came from his mouth was almost laughable, barely audible words, moans, and whimpers. It’s like you took away his tongue.

“Calm down,” you said to him, your free hand giving his thigh a light slap. Your finger kept rubbing against his prostate, sometimes purposely missing it. “How can I calm down?” He hissed out, eyes starting to fill with tears. All you could do was let out a chuckle, no matter how angry he pretended to be, his body always betrayed him.

Once you finally decided to stick another finger inside of him, a fat glob of pre cum dripped from his tip. You could tell that he was trying his hardest to not cum, the way his breathing started to increase, how his face slightly changed, the slight grind against your fingers. Of course, you paused your movements, just long enough for him to lose the high before you started to get him open.

—

“Fuck,” as soon as you were even an inch inside of him, he was trying to pull all of you inside. “Lyney,” your voice warned, the grip on his waist tightening. All you got in response was a loud moan and nails going deeper into your back. When you, finally, got inside of him, it felt like heaven. Hell, it sounded like heaven.

“You wanna cum?” You asked into his ear, head falling into his neck, biting it as you thrust. “Yes, yes, please!” He begged, one of his hands going on your head, pulling you closer. Though, his other hand tried going to his dick, which didn’t slide with you. As soon as you felt his hand go between your stomachs, you stopped moving altogether.

“No, no, no, ‘m sorry-“ he quickly pleaded, you could feel his tears, what a baby. “If try to you touch yourself, I’ll stop again,” You warned, slowly going back to thrusting into him. He didn’t even last a minute, hole immediately squeezing you tighter, nails scratching your back, finally coming. You didn’t stop for a second, trying to reach your own high as he continued to moan like a cheap whore.

[revletter]

How does Geno sleep?

GASP. An inbox ask about something I already can't shut up about? AND an excuse to glow-up some more old art?! 🤩

In my headcanon:

Badassery notwithstanding, Geno often just sleeps like a sweet little doll. It feels natural and comfortable - after all, long before he ever borrowed it, it spent almost every night sitting like this.

Also, lying down felt a bit too vulnerable for a while. Especially at the beginning of his adventure. In fact, he got a TERRIBLE first impression of anything resembling unconsciousness - so terrible that for his entire first week on the planet, he didn't sleep at all.

And then he discovered sleep is actually… lovely.

Here's a little bullet point story about that! 😊 [oops, it actually got pretty long, haha... hope you enjoy it!]

Geno Versus Sleep

During that first big fight, Bowyer sent a wall of electricity crashing toward ♡♪!? and the two people who had shown up out of the blue to fight by his side. Before it even hit, he knew it would be too much. He heard Mario's shout, Bowyer's mocking laugh, then dimly felt the impact of his borrowed form against the ground.

The next instant, he found himself alone in a blank, dark, starless void. This was new. And… not good. ♡♪!?'s mind was still very much aware, but he couldn't see, hear, feel, perceive anything. All he knew was that he was still in the doll's body.

Then a harrowing realization dawned on him. With almost all of his magic tethered to a body that wasn't working, he didn't have enough left to escape it…

[Continued under the cut]

Seconds later, there came a feeling almost as jarring: a sudden, wild, violent propulsion back into his senses. The first sense to return was a gaggingly sour taste. Then the unmistakable pain of his injuries knitting back together. Then a voice saying "Good morning! You okay?" - then the blurry sight of Mallow's face. Geno was just as disoriented as he had been when he'd first commandeered the doll.

He quickly learned this feeling was a Pick-Me-Up.

Cool.

He inwardly decided to avoid all of that mess involved in being less than conscious - at least when he had a choice in it.

His first full night on the planet, he kept watch all night long. And the second, and the third. Mario and Mallow became increasingly concerned, which Geno only found endearing. Patiently, repeatedly, he put them at ease about his lack of need for sleep.

(He did not mention any other reasons he might be avoiding it. These people had saved him and his mission; no way was he going to get picky about their methods. Besides, even the child could clearly handle these things without complaint. He resolved to do the same.)

He did, however, often feel a specific exhaustion: being low on magic left him dim inside, almost too depleted to maintain his hard-won motor control over his feet and fingers. On any normal day, the Star Road would restore him directly and abundantly, but now he felt this exhaustion more than he ever had. And it was work and expense to use physical consumables to keep himself going.

When he mentioned this inner conflict in passing - masked as appreciation for how much they spent on him - he was quite surprised to learn that for Mario and Mallow, sleep restored their magic. Intriguing.

Resolving to try and save his friends some resources, he finally decided to give sleep a shot on purpose.

Mario and Mallow were both amused to see Geno flop to the floor between their beds like a toy. After several days of watching the serious, otherworldly warrior wreck things ten times his size on the battlefield, it was easy to forget that part - but his limp doll slump against the wall was a clear reminder that his form was still every bit the silly oversized plaything.

"You sure you don't want to lie down?" asked Mallow.

"It's alright. I don't think it makes a difference to this body," said Geno. "Besides… if something happens, I can be on my feet faster."

In his own bed, Mario rolled onto his side toward him and offered a reassuring smile. "If anything happens, we're right here. We'll be in it together."

They turned out the lamp, and Geno tried to relax. He could do this. Piece of cake. He'd been here a week; he'd been able to tolerate feeling trapped in an unconscious body several times. If he had to face that for several hours in one go… well, he'd experienced worse things.

Hadn't he?

What? Yes, of course he had. Stars, what a silly thought. People down here did this every night. Surely he was blowing this way out of proportion. Surely it couldn't possibly be such a -

Geno felt something fluffy brush against him. It was Mallow's hand, wrapping around his. "S'gonna be okay," the kid said, sounding already half in a dream.

Of course. Mallow seemed to have a sixth sense for these things. Geno chuckled softly into the dark, feeling equal parts sheepish and glad for a friend like this. "That's what I'm here to make sure of, my little friend," he redirected anyway, but Mallow was already asleep.

On his other side, he heard his other friend shift. Mario looked quite awake, the shine of his eyes just visible in the starlight through the window. Mario didn't always pick up on Mallow's reactions and what they meant. Had he this time?

Confirming his suspicions, Mario quietly slipped out of his bed and sat next to Geno on the floor.

"Let me guess," Mario whispered conspiratorially, "where you're from, there's always someone alert and guarding, yeah?"

"Yeah," Geno whispered back. "It's what I do."

"Well, who does it for you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Up there, who guards you when you need it?"

Geno was quiet. Mario clearly didn't know his real source of trepidation, but… he'd never specifically considered this question. His unspoken answer was, of course, 'Still me.'

Mario seemed to take his silence as an answer. "Hey, you know what? I'll sit watch tonight."

Geno blinked. "Mario, you really don't have to do that."

"I'm gonna."

"But... you need nightly sleep."

Mario leaned closer to whisper in his ear. "Wanna know how little rest I got when it was just'a me and Mallow? And how much I've gotten for the past week with another actual adult around? It's like having my brother here, but you actually stay awake all night, like - I dunno, almost like you're some kinda star watching over us or something."

Mario's eyes were glistening with humor in the dark. Geno couldn't help a soft chuckle in return, and stopped trying to dissuade his determined friend from his new side mission.

"I can handle one all-nighter. Get some rest… stella dalla testa dura," Mario added under his breath as he got up, a good-natured tease he probably didn't realize Geno understood just fine.

Nice projection there, hard-headed human, Geno thought with affection as his friend sat in the same chair he would have chosen himself, the one next to the window and in full view of the door. He knew it was far from the first time Mario had done any of this… including the unnecessary and probably futile gesture of support at his own expense.

But he was surprised at how much it helped.

Before he even asked it to again, Geno felt his body relax. His eyes drifted closed; his head and shoulders drooped more deeply. The ever-present restlessness in his feet and fingers departed as he realized that, for tonight, he could at least withdraw from the most complicated joints and actually give himself a bit of a break.

Through the wood of his eyelids and chest, ♡♪!? could still see a dreamy, unfocused version of the room. He still had all of his senses. He could still feel Mallow's fluffy hand. The little guy had pulled Geno's entire forearm close to him in his sleep, as if his arm were a doll itself.

Some time later, he heard Mario softly snoring. Geno noticed that he was slumped backward in his chair, his neck at an angle even he recognized as uncomfortable. He sorted himself back into his body. As he got up, Mallow made a little sound and clutched his arm more tightly; Geno carefully detached it at the elbow.

By this point he knew that, if woken, Mario would only be embarrassed and more doggedly committed to staying awake. So instead, he tucked a pillow behind his friend's head, and covered him with his bed's left-behind blanket. Then he quietly sank to the floor next to Mallow again, plugging his arm back into his socket so the little guy wouldn't get a scare when he next awoke.

He relaxed his head and limbs again, letting the sounds of his sleeping companions soothe him, until… finally… he felt it. The magic of this world, barely perceptible. It was always there in the living things, the trees and flowers and mushrooms and people, so strong in his friends, and now it was slowly suffusing every part of him that he'd allowed to relax.

He knew that at its deepest root it was the same old, deep source of magic as that of the stars. But down here it was slower, gentler; less of a fiery focused precision, more of a flowing peace just out of sight.

Feeling at ease at last, he surrendered control, for the first time head to toe, purposefully, completely. The gentle flow of magic coursed like water through his cooling chest… pleasantly ran through the starlight fringe of his spirit like a caring hand through hair.

What a gift of an experience sleep is... he thought contentedly. Yes, I think I'll be able to handle this indeed.

Bonus headcanons:

With his action figure joints, Geno can technically lock his knees and sleep standing up like some kind of weird horse. He doesn't, though. That would freak people out.

At some point in their adventure, Geno somehow acquires the ability to snore. It sounds like creaking. Because it IS creaking. Geno somehow cannot hear himself do this, and genuinely thinks they're all making a joke he doesn't quite get. Finally, Mario, with his assortment of handyman skills that include carpentry, does the rest of the party a favor and gets some graphite and wax into Old Man Geno's joints.

The first time Princess Peach uses star magic (Come Back) to revive Geno, he's absolutely awestruck. He wonders if she has the slightest idea how much sheer potential she has. Here's a big long headcanon of mine about that, with some art!

[cyborb]

there have been some asks sitting unanswered in my inbox for an embarrassingly long time so I'm just going to go through and answer a bunch of them at once haha.

Sada and Turo / Paldea

now that the dlc is out I can play around with my own version of paldea's story and the professors (that I may or may not actually talk about), but they won't be in the rainbow rocket stuff with supersymmetry. "officially" at least. maybe I'll draw something for fun, but I don't intend them to actually be in rr like the rest. they're more interesting to me within the story of paldea, especially with the ai aspects and ... other things going on there.

but to the anons who sent me these: those ideas are cool and honestly you should pursue them yourself!

Lusamine

absolutely yes. in the base universe, her "unification" with nihilego kills her pretty quickly. iota lusamine is luckier since her nihilego seems to prefer keeping her around for longer. slow-acting vs fast-acting poisons, I suppose. by the time lusamine is picked up by rr, it's been about 6 months since she became jellyfish. who knows how much time she has left but her mental (and physical) state will continue to deteriorate along the way. an unsurprising consequence of willingly jumping into the mouth of a parasite

possibly? I haven't given that much thought tbh. considering lillie and guzma's proximity to lusamine when she goes motherbeast, they'd both be lucky to make it out alive hahaha. but I could see all three of them trying to help people and pokemon in the UB-overrun world too

honestly, no clue. I don't even think she knows, and she definitely doesn't care. who needs regular pokemon when she's got ultra beasts now! if lillie is still around she might have taken in a few of them herself though.

Other AU stuff

I've actually made a post about team galactic here!

one fun fact about each of them:

maria/mars is giovanni and ariana's first child, and she ran from her home in kanto when she was 16 to become a pokemon trainer and get away from her parents. sorry silver (she hasn't contacted him in a while).

juno/jupiter makes traditional (hisuian) style pokeballs as a hobby despite the fact that they absolutely are not practical to actually use anymore. but they look nice

sterling/saturn helps run the in-universe equivalent of pokemon showdown because he's a nerd. he enjoys simulated battles more than the real thing most of the time

great news: the rainbow rocket invasion all his fault!

by that I mean the choice of the base universe for invasion wasn't entirely arbitrary; rainbow rocket didn't just Show Up and hope this universe had what they wanted. beforehand, someone from rainbow rocket (either giovanni or archer, maybe even colress) scouted things out, and approached faba for information about the general state of the world and necrozma in particular. faba essentially sells out the universe (and aether's work with necrozma) in exchange for the promise of power and whatever tantalizing rewards the rr emissary offers haha. it's possible some of this involves planting a device to let rr come back to the right universe when ready too. what faba is up to when everything is going down in rr is not something that I've thought about, but he definitely gets found out for his actions leading up to it. oops!

unfortunately probably not. the rr stuff is happening on the other side of the planet and I can't think of a situation which might result in them getting to meet up. I'm not enough of an expert on the two of them to say how such a meeting would play out either, but it would definitely be... interesting considering their own universe's version of the other person has been dead for several years.

rose would probably be the least upset about it but cyrus wins the award for most upset (he has control issues). lysandre absolutely would have the most violent response to it though

Compliments

while I'm not going to share the collection of complimentary messages I've gotten over time, I want everyone to know that I really appreciate hearing that you enjoy my ideas and art! it's encouraging and I'm glad people like my pokemon playground hahaha. and that applies to tags too! it's always great to see... I don't always get around to actually answering the stuff in my inbox (whether it's actual questions or otherwise) but rest assured I do see it!

[devildom-moss]

Spoilers for lesson 11/12 (i totally forgot)

I was scrolling through your page, and a question struck me..

What would have happened if MC died in the blue unknown place idk the name of?

There's no Lilith to recover her from the dead, shes kinda still a human.

Just wanted your thoughts on this <3

Continue writing your masterpieces and remember to eat, sleep, and dont do drugs!

Sincerely, 💜

Sorry I left this in my inbox for so long 💜anon. I actually hadn't read that lesson yet by the time you sent it, and I remember rushing to read it because of this ask, but then I just didn't reply. . .big oops. And thank you so much for such kind words!

Obviously, because it's a game, they can't leave MC for dead. I have a couple thoughts on this.

Solomon would absolutely lose his shit if MC dies. At that point in the game, he's probably the character who adores MC the most. I don't think he could mentally accept MC dying, so he has to do something.

If MC died, and their soul was capable of being harvested (because who knows what weird rules the Fountain of Knowledge has over it), Thirteen would take MC's soul right then and there. Her affection for MC combined with the desperation of Solomon and the others might persuade her to keep MC's soul safe while they try to figure out how to bring MC back to life. Solomon is determined to find a way (and to a slightly lesser degree, the brothers are too).

Furthermore, as shady and mysterious as Nightbringer is, I don't think he would put MC on a path that would kill them, especially not before he gets his way, so there's got to be a way to revive them. Solomon is certain of that much. (also, are we all okay with the potential that Nightbringer is Barbatos?)

Ultimately, I think it would shake out a few ways. The first two kind of lean towards a deus ex machina resolution: either Michael steps in and has the power to save MC (similar to what he did with the waking them from the coma in lesson 13) or Nightbringer has enough power either course-correct time and fate because he miscalculated or his intention was to kill MC and bring them back to life - assuming he has that power available to him somehow (some ancient spell lost to time, probably).

The other way is that the Fountain of Knowledge isn't human made, so Solomon still can't reverse the curse affecting MC on his own. However, the game is always bringing up not intervening with humans and the balance between the 3 realms, so what better way to resolve the issue than for all three realms to intervene in the life of one human? I think that means one representative of each realm needs to step in.

Solomon will obviously be there to represent the human realm. I think because (obey me original game spoilers) Simeon falls in the present timeline, he's the least risky candidate to be involved with something like this, so Solomon would ensure that Simeon took on the task (I think Luke would offer if he knew an angel was necessary and that it was the only way to save MC). Additionally, Simeon is stronger than Luke, so that helps. The demons would probably all be fighting to be the one to save MC. (And Diavolo may be as underhanded as to mention that fallen angels might not count as representatives of the demon realm - which would just be a messy argument. Meanwhile, Barbatos and Mephisto don't want Diavolo to do something so reckless).

I think Solomon would ask Barbatos to do it. For one, the pact makes it so that he can force Barbatos's hand. Second, Solomon won't risk MC over a technicality (fallen angel vs natural demon), so he won't ask Asmo to do it - and he sure as hell won't let Lucifer do it. Third, Barbatos showed him the Fountain of Knowledge when he was younger. In a way, he feels like Barbatos is slightly to blame, and Solomon wants him to take some responsibility. Thirteen may also have to get involved because she's a reaper.

I don't have any concrete ideas on this, but maybe with the right spell, the right magical item, and magic channeled from all three realms, Thirteen could help force MC soul back into their body and bring them back to life.

[necroangelz]

bored, so gunna do yur ask game... 💌 and/or 🫀 pwease.^⁠_⁠^^⁠_⁠^ hru today btw! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

help this has been in my inbox for a few days oops im so sorry... i drafted up the first half of this post last friday but i forgot to continue it and i had no energy... anyways

as of right now i havent been that great, my mood swings r going crazy and im stressed over a test tomorrow, although i did a lot of thrifting on friday and saturday and bought lots of nice stuff! i'll post my entire .. "thrifting haul" when i feel like it...

emoji answers below! i decided to answer both. my answer for the heart emoji is very... long.......... but what do uu expect from an infodump?

『 💌 』

a quote or song lyric

muse just realized on muses pinned post it says "song" instead of "song lyric" erm... it's supposed to be song lyric help anyway

“ Come then, and let us pass a leisure hour in storytelling, and our story shall be the education of our heroes. ” -Plato, Republic Book II

wow, look at the intellectual internet angel, quoting Plato /s the quote is also referenced in the secret history by Donna Tartt (hir latest obsession) at the very beginning of the book ^_^ shi doesn't really know what to say, shi just really really likes this quote! shi likes very grand lines like this—the way that a simple leisure story can become an influence to the next generation of great heroes... there's something so alluring about it.

『 🫀 』

a game i played + an infodump

the free visual novel cemetery mary by arcadekitten! i really love cemetery mary and i can go on about it for hours, which is why i'll keep this infodump short bc i might just be typing here for hours and i wont get any sleep.

it's about a girl named mary anta (design is based on a manta ray), whose parents had mysteriously vanished without a trace one day. there's rumors of a killer in her city, called the blackwood butcher, and she suspects that her parents disappeared because of the butcher. she also texts a 'mysterious number' that claims her parents are alive and well.

she may look scary in the title screen but don't be fooled! she's a sweet and soft girl who simply has darker interests (such as the concept of death and cemeteries, as the title suggests).

here's mary hanging out with the other characters—crowven, twyla, and reginald. the player can pursue a route with any of these characters where mary will hang out with them and get closer to them. each route has a vastly different story and even genre/theme, and they lead to their own good and bad endings. i feel like it's easy to get the bad endings at first though... and they can get veeerrryyy VERY fucked up. there is also a true ending which is very entertaining and mysterious but leads to a happy ending.

i have about 42 hours in the game. yeah i got very obsessed with it... i like visual novels a lot and despite the occasional fucked up moments i enjoy CM because it's very chill and the characters are written well. and there's just something about how the game is designed that scratches my brain.

i got introduced to the game by a friend 2-ish years ago. we don't talk anymore but i liked that friend a lot... i didn't start playing CM until a few months later though

also just look at mary rn. SHE'S SO SILLY AAAHH I LOVE HER how can one not adoooreee her?????/

anyway let me just speedrun describing the 3 route characters rn

too lazy to find a better photo of him rn—this is crowven corvuson, design is based on a crow, and he's mary's cousin. except they're not blood related but they see each other as family. i don't interact with the fandom but i can imagine the discourse they would have about crowven and mary.

crowven is emo, moody, smokes weed, and has anger issues. his parents are dead. he lives together with mary. he gets up to secret business.

AAAAAHHH EHHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHHE this is twyla sophio, design based on an owl, this isn't her main "look" though, this is her outfit for a party. she's filthy rich, she's toxic, she's manipulative, and she's relentless to uncover the identity of the blackwood butcher. she also has some kind of rivalry with crowven (apparently it's accurate to nature where owls and crows have beef irl)

i am very very very in love with twyla in a normal way and i ship her and mary together

lastly, reginald tetra, design based on a pufferfish. this also isn't his main look, but he's so handsome here. i don't really like him that much but there's some certain scenes that make me like him...

he's your local average guy. he's so average. he's so normal. there's nothing wrong with him. i swear

he also has a littol tiny crush on mary :3 they develop a nice bond

ok thats it infodump over

[infiniteorangethethird]

hi

first of all, please ignore (even delete) this if you're not in the mood because half of this'll be essentially just a rant, sorry. a positive one, but a rant nonetheless. i just wanna share with someone, preferably someone who knows what i'm talking about/what i mean. also please tell me if you don't want me to appear in your ask box like this ever again.

second of all, i wanna apologize for not writing you back, i just fucking forgot (seems to be a reoccuring theme with us ig). but if you wanna, i'd like to continue the conversation, especially that i haven't even heard about the second guy.

third of all, not to make you even more jealous but i think that our creative writing professor is a fucking genius. like holy shit.

the whole class i was adhd-ing so hard (so maybe having it doubled is not that good for my brain, oops - especially that we talk a lot and, well, listen to each other a lot and it requieres focus. anyway). i was fidgeting through the whole class and i think i hit the chair next to me like ten times and i wanted to scream because i was sure i was annoying, visible and sometimes even somewhat loud about it and eh. thankfully, we had a ten minute break and i think it was somewhat better after that.

but! onto the positive part! i was last to read and it gave me some anxiety beforehand but i really enjoyed reading and i think i said things nicely plus the feedback and i was very quickly in a good mood aaaand dopamine lol. then we played a game which was nice and also game!!

and then he said what we have to do for the next class which is esentially a retelling (any mythology, any type and even like any time-period? as in you can write the story again, like the song of achilles or place it in modern day or whatever. so like. how cool is that???) and here comes my fav part because i have been planning an orpheus and eurydice retelling with simon and adalaine for a while and i plan that as a big project, like a full book preferably but. still. i get to work with that! and i get to work with simon and adalaine! for my creative writing class!! absolutely losing my shit

anyway if you'd have an exercise like this what do you think, what would you write?? i'm so curious (i'm just generally so interested in the topic of retellings. like they're so cool). also if you wanna write it, i'd love to read it.

also curious about what do you think, what work of yours would you read out loud to get to know your writing at a class like this/at a writing club or smth?

also how are you?? hope you're doing ok.

sorry for the rant again. and for not writing you back. yeah

bestie hi hiii !!! don't ever feel bad for wriggling into my inbox it's always a pleasure seeing you here in my little corner of the internet! and it's always so good to hear abt what shenanigans you got into, seeing that we haven't seen each other in ages :( (speaking of which, any chance of you hanging 'round budapest in upcoming weeks perhaps?)

damn ur right u are making me kinda jealous hehe. but more importantly I'm so happy for u man!! you get to share your stories with an audience that listens and gives good feedback that's some really good stuff and I'm happy you get to experience that! and you know my opinions on Simon and their pals so the idea that you're gonna have written material for them (as in, more than there already is)?? damn now I really just wanna read more of your stuff 😩 (I mean. only if u want me to. like I'd love to read whatever you write for the class if ur comfy sharing 🥺)

Tbh I'm not much of a reteller-type - don't get me wrong I get feral about stories that manage to both acknowledge their roots and the fact that they are a different story to those roots, my current fav series for instance does a phenomenal job at this imo - I just personally prefer to tell original stories bc I feel I dunno, less limited? Still if I had to choose it would probably be Icarus's story, I know not the most original but the concept has me screaming crying foaming at the mouth and a lot of my little guys could fit into the story almost frighteningly well. Then again as much fun as talking abt my guys in an academic setting sounds like I'd probably be insufferable 😂

I'm not sure if I have works I'd be comfy reading in front of a class lol, most of what I already have is either unfinished/unedited or a 20k fic on ao3. but if I absolutely had to choose it'd probably be this one bc 1) it combines all my fav parts of writing (poetic wording, dark themes, utterly incomprehensible metaphors...) and 2) it's short so it won't take me ages to read it out loud lol

anyway don't feel bad for not answering you know exactly how my own short term memory works (hint: it doesn't) lmao. it doesn't count if we're both shit at replying to each others' stuff that just means were even 😂 (but seriously though I really don't mind I know how sometimes the brain just does a backflip unprompted)

and seriously feel free to rant at me any time you like as we already agreed normal chat apps <<<<<< tumblr when it comes to communication (but only if I can rant back at you hehe)

[cornfields-td-nonsense]

🧠 all of them

An ask from the OC ask game I forgot to answer oops

What do you like most about them?

Starting in elimination order, then quickly veering off and going in a completely random order:

- William is a dramatic little bitch who dresses like a colourblind D&D bard. Need I say more.

- Sal's just big and dumb and doesn't know her own strength but cmon guys, she's doing her best!

- Nicolas is just funny to me, like, conceptually. Chris really went through the process of adopting a random orphan to have on his show and became an unwilling father. brilliant

- Reggie's just silly. She's the definition of a silly little guy. She operates on cartoonier physics than anyone else. She's a horrible influence on Nicolas. She's Roger Rabbit as a teenage lesbian. Also I just love clowns, I wanted to make a clown character for TDN almost as soon as I thought of it

- Carmen's just fun. She's pretty and smart and she gets along with everyone! And I especially love how human she is. Like. Totally human. I don't know what that one anon was talking about. There's nothing supernatural about her.

- Matt, on the other hand, is an absolute bitch. Sometimes it's just fun to have a horrendously unlikeable character to play around with.

- Greta's a wannabe supervillain that is trying and failing to be evil. She's like if Max wasn't annoying.

- Hans just does not give a crap. I respect that.

- Charlie's aroace and we need more aspec characters like. in general. Also I like it when characters in TD do something, get eliminated, and then the thing they did continues to be important and comes up later, like MK hacking the confessionals in TDI2023. Something similar happens with Charlie's research and notes on his findings about the island - something to do with Alisha and Esther.

- Harper. One, I like the idea of an intern being unwillingly dragged onto the show. Two, I love stories about unrequited romantic feelings that have actual happy endings and show that "staying friends" is a totally feasible option that can actually be the best case scenario. Harper and Charlie manage to snag their friendship out of the fiery wreckage of their not-romance, and they're both better off for it.

- Esther was the first TDN character, and you always remember your roots. Shes basically the reason this thing exists, lol. I also put a lot more of myself into her than I was expecting to, but I do that with a lot of my characters

- Skelly is a punk character that isn't Duncan. That makes them awesome in my book.

- Alisha is a theatre kid. We love a theatre kid. I do have a lot to say about her but I'm saving that for another ask currently sitting in my inbox

- Ming is a menace. In the best way possible. Once Lloyd pulls the betrayal card on Rod, Ming fully declares war on his ass - she is VERY protective of her friends.

- Art is the kind of unlikeable character I really enjoy - he's believable. He's multi-dimensional. There's reasons he is the way he is, and he's capable of change.

- Isla is a bigender artsy kid with ADHD. You know. Like me.

- Eve has a snake. Like. Come on. (Also yours truly forgot to mention she's mute and uses ASL in her character bio. oops. I'll go back and edit that in later lol)

- Lloyd is, like I've said before, utterly overflowing with issues. I want to examine his brain under a microscope.

- Rod's not stupid. I know it's a bit of a weird thing to specify, but oftentimes the optimistic ray of sunshine who's best friends (or more...?) with a jaded grumpier one is portrayed as dumb. Rod isn't some kind of genius, but he's no idiot, either. I think that's important to say.

- Lara is an autistic girl who overthinks every social interaction she has, struggles with sensory issues she doesn't know how to deal with or even explain, and gets pushed around by certain individuals (coughartcough) who perceive her struggles as her being lazy or untalented. And by building a support system and finding someone she can truly connect with in Esther, she comes out of her shell, stands up for herself, develops and fleshes out her skills and manages to win. In short, Lara is the character I needed when I was younger.

[timidloner]

dw if you answer asks a bit late, you still provide daily content nonetheless with your answers in other asks that definitely to keep the brain rotting jaja :D

i mean i dont check one day your blog and i come back to thighfucking + "it wasn't sex, you're still pure" SLAYYYY now you have me wondering... in a scenario where him and MC are in the same bed at night, would he be down to take advantage of the situation and try to grind against them somnophilia style wink wink

"Can you imagine the guilt?" i sure can great heavens loving how when we call joren deranged its always with a positive connotation tho this "If MC is only keeping him at arm's length because they think he's shallow, then MC's pretty face is the only thing between them. A quick slash across their face and problem solved!" made me go oop- (at least he doesn't care about looks, what a green flag)

on another note, non spicy this time, the lifespan ask???? HELLO???? is that a hint that in an ending we can outlive thee meow meow... falling to my knees in despair - rambling

Thanks Ram!

It's been a bit tiring going from getting two asks a day to now 7 a day. Not complaining though!! I just don't like leaving them in my inbox for long, I want to answer them all.

And yeah, there's also a scene like that planned!! This is actually a good moment to explain how I'm going to handle all the fetishes in the story. So, let's use this scenario.

Let's imagine they have to share the same bed for reasons, there will be two options in that passage.

[[You sleep soundly.]]

[[A presence behind you wakes you during the night.]] This scene contains somnophilia and dubcon.

I'm not writing noncon outside of the horrorporn endings, so the reader has to decide if they want to see the optional kink content or not. If you go on, there won't be any options to pause in the middle of the scene, and MC will like (it's dubcon, after all) whatever happens in it. There will be no option to hate it, so if you don't like a kink, it's better to skip it.

It will be the same for all the other scenarios I talked about before.

I have two ideas for this scene. One, MC keeps pretending to be asleep and lets Joren do whatever he wants. He's taking it from them "by force", it's not their choice to lay with him... so it doesn't count as sex!! They were unconscious all the time, not their fault.

Joren knows they are awake, though. This is pretty much consensual nonconsent, but without communication and not healthy at all.

Two, MC lets him know they're awake and Joren pushes them to continue, he is not stopping. I see it as a mutual masturbation scene while a painting of Sun hangs on the wall above the bed, judging MC.

And about the lifespan... It could be possible, especially if MC decides to leave their humanity and if they're younger than Joren, but it would be for a decade max before they also die. They don't have a massive age gap.

But no! That's not what the hint is about!! hehe >:)

[piceuscelus]

oh look i wrote something that wasn’t any of the prompts in my inbox 🙃 this is all twist’s fault

oops. have 3.3k of eskel being dirtybadwrong and using axii to put lambert on his knees and fuck his face. all tags and warnings (and also the fucking italics) on ao3!

Eskel couldn’t say what, exactly, is the final straw in his patience for dealing with Lambert’s shitty mood, but he does know he’s hit it. He barely even thinks about what he does, so frustrated with his brother’s bitter whining and general bad temper that he just reacts, doesn’t even rationalize it first. 

He snaps, “Shut up,” just as he finishes the Sign, and only then does it really occur to him what he’s done, what he’s doing – but now, well. Lambert is standing silent in front of him, face gone a little slack, eyes pointed at Eskel but hazy, like there’s a light in the window but no one is actually home. 

He takes a deep breath, and considers.

He could just drop the Sign, apologize for it and the snapping, and move on. He’d probably have to deal with more of Lambert’s bitching, then, both about the Axii and a continuation of whatever he’d been bleating about previously, whatever it had been. He could, but he thinks about having to listen to more of the complaining, and…. No. Actually, that’s not an option at all.

He could tell Lambert to stop complaining, then, and Axii would make him do it – but there wouldn’t be a guarantee on how long that would stick, and considering the power behind most of Eskel’s Signs, even when he’s not trying, well. He doesn’t want to take the chance on that order sticking around for too long, and end up with Lambert hurt or worse because he won’t – can’t – complain. Already, he’s taken a risk by not thinking before he ordered Lambert to shut up. That, plus how he’d have to add in something about making Lambert forget about the Axii so his brother doesn’t just build up resentment about the whole thing – it’s not worth the poor odds or the effort. 

Which only really leaves him with one choice, once he’s thought it all through. 

“Tell me the truth right now,” he says firmly, and he waits until he can tell the order has settled into Lambert’s mind, seeing how his mouth moves as if he’s about to say something but never does. “What the fuck is wrong with you lately?”

The hazy look on Lambert’s face doesn’t disappear, but he answers the question as if nothing is different or wrong at all, voice exactly as peevish as it had been before Eskel shut him up. “I’m too far in my own fucking head.”

That…clarifies absolutely nothing, because of course Lambert is too far in his head, that’s just what he’s like. To the detriment of himself and others. Usually, though, they can fix that – they just have to force him out of his head, somehow, whether that be with a rough scrap during training or making him his favorite stew. But neither of those things, or any of the other things they’ve tried (namely, getting him so drunk his eyes cross) have worked. 

He thinks for a moment. Realistically, he knows that when Lambert gets like this he needs something, something he can’t ask for or at least doesn’t feel like he can. And if they’ve tried providing the usual suspects – a good fight, creature comfort, drunken thoughtlessness – then clearly it’s something else, something they haven’t been giving him, something he can’t get by himself. 

“Tell me the truth right now,” he repeats. “What do you need?”

“Need someone to put me on my knees and make me stop fucking thinking,” Lambert answers, and then he continues unprompted, “Feel like I’m going to crawl out of my skin but fucking isn’t enough.”

And that catches Eskel off guard, because of all the things he’d been expecting, a good fuck was on the list – but that wasn’t what Lambert said. No, he’d said put me on my knees and fucking isn’t enough, which means that this isn’t just some twisted, extended bout of horniness. (Especially considering that Eskel knows Lambert’s been sleeping in Coën’s bed for the last two weeks.)

Which leaves…. Hm.

It’s not as if Eskel is unfamiliar with this particular kind of need, from either end, really, but – well, Lambert has never expressed any kind of interest in that direction, exactly. Not that Lambert is particularly good at expressing his interests, unless they’re more tangible things like alcohol or alchemy, and expressing his wants or needs is and always has been like trying to coax blood from a stone, but.

But.

Somehow, Eskel thinks he should have known. Been able to spot it. It’s not as if Coën is the only one Lambert sleeps with, all of them spend the winters hopping between each others’ beds fairly regularly, but. He…didn’t know. Didn’t expect it, either, which feels even more like a failure in observation on his side.

He retraces Axii in the air, feels how Sign starts to pull – going from just power over Lambert’s will to it not being his anymore at all, being Eskel’s instead. It’s…dangerous, really, and frankly, fucking stupid, but Eskel hasn’t made a properly intelligent decision about this situation at all yet, so he doesn’t feel as wary as he probably should.

“Come with me,” he says, grabbing Lambert’s limp arm and tugging him in the direction of the bedrooms. “Tell me exactly what you want.”

Lambert stumbles a little with the sudden force, but he doesn’t complain, and falls easily into step. “Just want to be good,” he says. “Want to be put on my knees and used, know I’m useful because I can hold still and choke pretty and not think.”

Eskel carefully ignores just how quickly that gets him hard. Luckily, his room is closest, so he doesn’t have to ignore it for too long. He puts Lambert in the middle of the room, then returns to the door to pull it closed and throw the deadbolt. It wouldn’t stand up against any actual force, but that’s not really the point.

The deadbolt means don’t even consider interrupting for anything short of a life-threatening emergency.

“Forget everything from when I told you to shut up to right now.”

Lambert makes an odd noise, face twisting for a moment before it smooths back out. Eskel gives it another beat.

“Where are you?” He asks it as he crosses the room back to where he left Lambert, working at the laces of his pants as he goes, and then Lambert’s when he gets there.

Lambert looks around, even though his eyes stay mostly hazy. “Your bedroom.”

“How did you get here?”

He blinks, frowning. “...I don’t know.”

“Good. You’re dreaming. On your knees.”

Lambert makes that same odd noise, but then he’s nodding and dropping to his knees. To Eskel's surprise – and delight – he immediately puts his arms back, each hand going to the opposite elbow.

“Good boy,” Eskel purrs, and finishes pulling his cock out of his pants. He notes that Lambert isn’t hard, but that’s not too much of a concern, really. What Lambert had said he needed, what he wanted, was to be used, not to get off. If that changes, well, Eskel can manage it when it does. “Open your mouth.”

Lambert’s mouth drops open, tongue already out, seemingly heedless of how quickly he starts to drool like that.

Eskel’s cock throbs in his fist, and he just strokes himself for a moment, letting heat build in his spine while he appreciates the view. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Lambert this quiet and still, and yes, he knows that most of it is probably the Axii, but Lambert had said know I’m useful because I can hold still and choke pretty. It’s not just the Axii, it’s at least partly because this is what Lambert wants, something he’s done before and liked, and that.

That’s the headiest part, really.

“Look so fuckin’ good on your knees like that, Lamb,” Eskel murmurs, shuffling closer, until his feet grame Lambert’s knees. All he has to do to get that pretty mouth on his cock like this is reach out with his free hand and get it into Lambert’s hair, use that to direct him. He follows the pull perfectly, even without an order, tongue wrapping around Eskel’s cockhead before he hollows his cheeks and sucks him deeper. “Fuck.”

He just lets Lambert work for a bit, lets himself feel how much Lambert wants this in how desperately he works his mouth, the way he groans from his chest each time Eskel’s cock jerks. Eventually, he lets go of his dick to get both hands in Lambert’s hair, pulling gently just to test how he reacts – which is with a full-body shudder and a moan that vibrates clear to Eskel’s balls.

“Fuck, so good,” Eskel rumbles. “Needy little thing, aren’t you.”

Lambert’s tongue moves as if he’s trying to answer, but he doesn’t try to pull back to do it, and his arms remain firmly behind his back. Eskel makes an animal noise, low and pleased, and rocks his hips a little forward, keeping Lambert’s head in place with the grip on his hair. It’s not much, he’s not too deep yet, but even that little show of control, of force, has Lambert’s shoulders relaxing, his eyes sliding all the way closed.

Eskel’s cock throbs heavily on his tongue, and all Lambert does about it is moan, the sound caught in his throat. 

“Put your hands up if you need a break,” Eskel orders, and he gets a muffled sound that’s probably an affirmative. Good enough, at least. “Good boy.”

He starts slow, mostly just rocking back to push back to the same depth, letting Lambert’s hollowed cheeks and wriggling tongue do most of the work, still. It feels so good, he could do nothing but this for hours, he thinks, but what Lambert said keeps repeating in his head: I can hold still and choke pretty. Eskel already thinks he’s pretty, prettier than any whore he’s ever seen, sitting so good on his knees with his eyes closed and his mouth soft and perfect, but if Lambert is needy, then Eskel is greedy.

He picks up the pace, a little, and Lambert just groans, knees shifting wider, but his arms stay where they are, eyes still blissfully closed. 

“So good,” Eskel murmurs, stroking a thumb over Lambert’s temple. “Have such a perfect mouth. Such a good boy, letting me use it.”

With that, he rocks his hips a little deeper, and Lambert gags but doesn’t signal, doesn’t even really go tense – he just gags, and then it passes, and he’s still working his tongue against the bottom of Eskel’s cock like he’s getting paid to do it. 

“Fuck.” He does it again, and again, and again, and Lambert doesn’t gag every time but it feels fucking incredible when he does, and he doesn’t fucking do anything. He just lets Eskel make him gag, lets him use his mouth, shoulders relaxed and arms firmly in place behind him. 

So, of course, Eskel has to try and push more. The deeper he presses, the harder and more Lambert gags, but still he doesn’t signal. Doesn’t do anything except let Eskel use his mouth, drooling and coughing and breathing ragged when he can, and it’s…. Fuck, Eskel hadn’t exactly doubted what Lambert had said, but what someone wants and what they’re capable of don’t always match up. He’d been prepared to be fairly gentle, is all, but even as he pushes and pushes and gets rougher with each thrust, Lambert just – he just…sort of softens. He melts, really, almost literally, body leaning forward and into Eskel instead of away.

“Good boy, taking me so well,” Eskel purrs, and shifts one hand to cup Lambert’s jaw, thumb pressed over his throat. Not to restrict, but just to feel, to hold him a little more securely.

Lambert shivers, though, a little whine spilling out of him before Eskel’s cock can muffle his sounds again, and suddenly Eskel is thinking about trying to do this – for real, properly, so he can cup his palm around Lambert’s pretty throat and squeeze and know that Lambert wants it, that Lambert trusts him with not just his body but his very breath.

But that’s for later. He’s got other things to focus on right now.

“How deep can you take me, hm?” he muses. Lambert’s mouth moves as if to respond, but Eskel doesn’t let him, doesn’t stop in fucking his mouth at all, and Lambert doesn’t seem inclined to try and make him, arms still behind his back, eyes still closed. “Let's find out.”

He slows his movements in favor of being more precise, each shift more dragging his cock along Lambert’s tongue instead of thrusting. Lambert takes it in stride, cheeks hollow with each pull back, tongue soft and clever with each return, even when Eskel presses to the back of his throat and he gags.

“Good boy,” Eskel praises, voice gone a little ragged with how much more intense each gag is when he’s moving this slow. “Just – let me, fuck, yes, just like that.” 

Slow and steady, he’s able to push his cock deeper and deeper and deeper, until he can just feel it starting to press out against his thumb. Lambert’s eyes are watering enough that the wetness is escaping to coat his lashes even with his eyes closed, and his shoulders are shaking, but his arms stay behind his back. Even as his throat flexes, as he makes a muffled, desperately wild sound around Eskel’s cock forcing his throat open.

“Good boy, perfect boy,” Eskel rasps as he pulls back, just as slow as he pressed in. Lambert coughs, and a flood of thick spit coats the head of his cock and drips messily over Lambert’s chin as soon as he’s free of that tight clutch. He pulls back just enough that his cock is resting perilously on Lambert’s lips, just so he can ask, “Do you like choking on my cock like that, pretty thing?”

Lambert’s eyes flutter open, and Eskel’s cock twitches at the sight of them full of tears, pupils dilated so wide they’ve almost eaten the yellow of his iris. “Yes,” he answers, though it’s garbled and lisping with the weight of Eskel’s cockhead on his lips and the tip of his tongue. 

“Good.” Eskel strokes his thumb over Lambert’s throat. “Feels so good to use your throat, Lamb.”

“Please,” Lambert gasps, and it’s just as sputtered and muddled as his yes was, but even if the word had been unintelligible the desperation is clear as day. As if Eskel might stop, might take the praise or his cock away if he doesn’t beg.

He wouldn’t, but he can’t say the plea isn’t encouraging.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he murmurs, and slowly presses his cock back into Lambert’s mouth properly. He takes it beautifully, of course, and eagerly, trying to press forward against Eskel’s grip.

Eskel tuts. “No,” he says, and pulls at Lambert’s hair, not nearly as gently as before. Lambert makes a high, pained noise and shudders, but otherwise stills. Eskel hums. “Good boy,” he murmurs, and then, after a beat of making Lambert wait, continues feeding him his cock.

This time he manages to push even deeper, eyes rolling at how tight Lambert’s throat is, how much tighter it gets when he chokes. There are tears sliding down his face, now, more and more of them with each shaking convulsion of his shoulders, and something about that, the way Lambert is crying but still not stopping him…. It makes his cock jerk in the tight channel of Lambert’s throat, hard enough he can feel it with his thumb.

He holds his cock down Lambert’s spasming throat for as long as he knows he can, counting out the seconds til he knows Lambert’s lungs are probably starting to burn, the shaking turned into forcefully-restrained thrashing. This time, Lambert makes a rough, inhuman sound when Eskel’s cock finally pops out of his throat, but nothing more, and as soon as he’s sucked in a few desperate breaths, his mouth is working at Eskel’s cock again with a fervor that borders on overwhelming.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Eskel can’t help the way he curls around Lambert’s head, or the way his hips jerk, forcing his cockhead back into Lambert’s throat and making him properly choke, entirely body surging. 

But his arms still don’t come up, and when Eskel fumbles back, he goes right back to that fevered, intense sucking, and he’s helpless except to do it again, then again, then again. Barely a minute passes before he’s lost control almost entirely, grip on Lambert’s head entirely too tight as he fucks Lambert’s face, his throat, like a man possessed. 

Frankly, he thinks he might have been.

He stops even noticing the way Lambert gags or chokes except for how fucking fantastic it feels around his cock; Lambert’s arms never raise, fingers gone white with how tightly he’s grasping his elbows, so as far as Eskel is concerned, he’s free to keep shoving his cock down Lambert’s throat until he’s satisfied. 

Which is approaching rapidly, if he’s honest with himself. Between how fucking perfect Lambert’s mouth is, how well he just takes Eskel’s rough fucking, and just – everything else about this, how wrong it is coupled with how fucking good it is, too, he’s so close he’s going dizzy.

“Good,” he pants, “good boy, so perfect, Lamb, fuck, sweetheart, gonna come down this perfect throat – want it, fuck, ffffuck – ” 

He has the wherewithal to pull back just enough to let Lambert gasp in a breath, but only barely, and it’s probably not enough air, but he can’t make himself care, not when he’s already coming as he shoves his cock back down Lambert’s throat. All the way, this time, too, Lambert’s nose smashed against his belly, the bulge under Eskel’s thumb reaching all the way down to push out the hollow before his collar. 

“Lambert, Lambert.” He’s practically whimpering as he spills, each pulse making his cock throb in the clutch of Lambert’s throat, making Lambert jerk wildly, enough that his hands come free of his elbows and turn to fists, but still his arms don’t come forward, don’t raise. “Good boy, good boy.”

The sound Lambert makes when he finally pulls back is nasty, rough and aching and animal, but almost before it’s finished he’s begging. “Please, please, Eskel, need – need it, need to come, please, please make me come, I’ve been good, please – ”

His voice is barely more than a rasp, but Eskel can hear him loud and clear all the same, and looking down he can see Lambert’s cock curled up out of his pants, nearly purple and twitching viciously with each of Lambert’s grating breaths. He doesn’t bother with words, instead just going to his own knees to pull Lambert into his arms and get a hand around his clearly aching cock. He doesn’t even manage a single stroke, either; just the grip of his palm is enough to send Lambert bucking in his arms, spilling wet and messy over his own belly and Eskel’s fist.

“Good boy, so good, took me so well, look so good coming for me,” Eskel babbles as he works Lambert through it, intensely aware of where his own cock is still hard and oversensitive between them. “Just like that, you’re so good, Lamb.”

It takes a while for Lambert to calm, for his cock to stop throbbing in Eskel’s fist, for his whimpering to dwindle into harsh pants, then just shaky breaths. Eskel just holds him through it, trying to get a handle on his own breathing, willing himself calm to match, until finally Lambert is settled, nearly unconscious, and Eskel is only half hard.

“Perfect boy,” he murmurs, and Lambert mumbles something wordless in response, proving he’s still awake, even if it’s only just. Eskel takes a breath, and after a split second of thought, retraces Axii with the hand still slick with Lambert’s spend. 

“Have good dreams, sweetheart, and sleep for me.”

you can also read this on ao3!

[thewritingginger]

Brat Tamer Evios

This was a request so I hope this to your liking lovely!

Honestly I haven’t ever really delved into brat taming so be nice lol & feedback is always appreciated :3

Fandom: Blood of Zeus Pairing: Evios x Fem! Reader Warnings: 18+, Brat taming, Daddy dom, Pet names (Sweetheart, Princess, Babygirl), Not very long or steamy?!? but sexual tones oops, I’m new to this lol

Enjoy ~

Calls you Sweetheart, Princess, & Baby girl

Generally Evios is a very chill guy and just a good partner

He usually isn’t all that controlling of you but he does have a dominant side to him  

He can be very cocky and even condescending to his partner at times, especially when they start to act up

He will give you a handful of warnings before you get got by him

“Are you sure you want to do that, Baby girl?”

“If I were you I’d shut that pretty mouth of yours before you get in more trouble.”

“This is your last warning, Sweetheart. Because I assure you you won't like what is about to happen if you keep going.”

If you push him far enough he will have to bend you over his knee or the counter and spank you till your ass is bright red

Will have you count each one as he does it and will start over if you stop

“I’m not gonna stop till you’ve counted to 10 to my liking.”

“Naughty girls get punishments, only girl girls get rewards.”

I feel like overstimulation is one of his go to punishments

Evios will give you the silent treatment is you were a bad girl

“You don’t deserve my attention with the way you acted earlier.”

But be careful for what you wish for because if you push hard enough he will finally give attention just maybe not how you hoped for

“You want my attention that badly, huh?” He asked. His rough hand holding your chin, pulling you closer to his face. “Then you’re gonna get it, Sweetheart.” Throwing you over his shoulder he makes his way to your bedroom.

Tossing you on the bed you scramble back but he doesn’t allow you to get very far.

“Where do you think you’re off to, Princess? Though you wanted me to play with you.” Pulling your ankles towards the edge of the bed he cages you in with his body, strong arms holding down yours.

“Now, now don’t be like that. I’m just giving you what you want, so lay down and hold still for Daddy.” You struggle in his grip, whining, wanting to get free, making him tisk. “You’re really leaving me no choice, Princess.” Releasing your wrists you watch as he begins to undo his belt. Pulling it from it’s loops he grabs your wrists and tightens it around them.

Before getting on the bed he rips off your pants, your underwear still intact. Sitting beside you with one strong hand holding yours down and the other left free to do his bidding. Pinching your cheeks with his hand to pout your lips he chuckles.

“Why such a sour face? Aren’t you the one that asked Daddy to pay attention to you? Huh?” He patronizes.

Releasing your face you let out a huff. His hungry eyes crave down your body, watching his hand move down towards your core. You squirm when you feel his long fingers cup your clothed pussy.

“Aw don’t act like this isn’t exactly what you wanted, Sweetheart.” He chuckles as he begins to make slow circles with his digits.  

“Like I said, I intend to give you the attention you desire so badly and I’m gonna do it till you’re begging me to stop.”

“When I’m done with you, you’re sure to remember your place.”

Hope that was ok even tho it was very short 😅 I could always continue this.

If you want more or have ideas let me know :3

My inbox is open pls read GUIDELINES & also my Kinktober requests are  open as well

💛 ~ 

[giggly-squiggily]

Hey, it's the Vladimir Tod anon! The fandom is so small and if you don't write for it, that's fine, but I am seriously craving some tickle fics, especially that of the uncle-nephew kind (aka Otis tickling the crap out of Vlad), especially since there's so many moments for it: revenge for the attitude Vlad gave him in the first book, ESPECIALLY in the fourth book when Otis is like "I can think of many other ways to do you in", (or even Vikas the family friend training Vlad to fight)!! You can disregard my other ask if you'd like!

Friend, you don't even realize the absolute GIFT you just dropped into my inbox. Vladimir Tod is such a comfort character for me- younger Squiggily is soaring right now at the chance to write for him! :D Consider your request accepted!

I'm glad you sent this one- I was just about to screenshot it and flail around ajajekrajkerkja

General announcement: Since we're on the topic of books (and I've been rereading/discovering new faves lately), I wanted to include some new book fandoms in my blog- something more then just Heartstopper, you know? I'm gonna list a few books/series I'm willing to give a shot at for writing tickle content below- if anyone is interested in a fic for them or even has some recommendations, please feel free to send in an ask! If I've read the book I can most certainly try :D (No HP though)

**: Vague memory- might have to reread

The Chronicles Of Vladimir Tod

Six Of Crows/The Grishaverse (Still reading KOS)

Red Queen Series

Song Of Achilles**

The Mortal Instruments/Shadowverse (Have not read beyond The Dark Artifices- working on that...eventually)

Royal Bastards (Only read the first book oop-)

Hearstopper

The Cruel Prince** (Read the first book- need to read the rest of the series)

Simonverse (Love Simon, Leah On The OffBeat, etc.)**

An Ember In The Ashes series

The Raven Cycle** (Read the first book- rereading and planning on continuing it soon)

Throne of Glass**

A Court Of Thorns and Roses**

Curseworkers (I highly doubt anyone has read these but if you have I am in love with you (platonically))

Those are the books that immediately come to mind; again- if anyone has any recommendations or wants any requests/HCs for these, please feel free to send them in! :D Gentle reminder that requests are still open and will be closed November 1st.

Thanks for asking! :D

[creativeashproductions]

Songbird Shenanigans // Charlie Gillespie

IN WHICH: The reader will routinely sneak away from her band/hotel to continue her tour shenanigans in parking garages. A way for the young star to return to the stupid years where the concert venue was a car and the mic was the steering wheel. As each city comes and goes with the tour, one thing never changes, driving to parking garages to scream songs at the top of your lungs.

Warnings: Swearing, Mamma Mia songs (oops), and fluff

Words: 4.0k (with lyrics included)

A/N: There’s something endearing about Charlie randomly going a stranger in a duet and dance without a care. This was loosely inspired by the chaotic live they did when Jeremy and Charlie stayed at Owen’s place. I loved Charlie’s tropical shirt giving Animal Crossing vibes.

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX/ASK PLEASE!

Masterlist

A moment you had desired for a while finally came around in Oklahoma City during the free day between the two concerts. The pure quiet away from the interviews, photoshoots and demanding life of a musician. Yet despite wanting this time, you definitely felt bored, which only meant one thing.

A new video for your followers as you had done since the beginning of your successful career. Back before, you had the prominent following you had; now you would travel singing in your car, and then one video got viral. That elevated your following until you had signed a record deal with your brand new agent.

A series was then born of driving at night to the parking lots and garages in the city you temporarily visited. You'd park and sing any suggested songs from a previous video for an hour to see if a fan could find you. It was a fun game you had developed.

Y/N Y/L/N: Another installment of Songbird Shenanigans. From 9pm to 10:30pm, I'll be somewhere in Oklahoma City. Come find me for the prize!

Your agent both hated and loved the series as it brought attention to your career and songs but also was a hazard during the tour. The risk of losing your voice made your agent nervous, but the positives outweigh the negatives.

"What song are you doing?" Maddie asked from her chair in your hotel suite with a ratty book in her hand. Her rich dark hair pulled up in a high bun with a few pieces of bangs pulled down to hang free.

You didn't know if you could do what you do if you didn't have Maddie by your side as your singing partner and chief stylist. Maddie also always knew without looking on social media when you had a new installment coming.

"My most requested video is Train Wreck by-"

"James Arthur." Maddie snickered with her grey eyes pinned to the page she was reading faithfully. The book had seen better days, but it was her absolute favourite one by far and one of the only physical books she had.

"Somehow forgot you had it on repeat for a week straight." You snorted, shoving a hat on your head for warmth. A plain black coat pulled over your arms that matched the warm boots you had chosen, "I'll send you my location."

Maddie waved on hand in response, having known the routine since you first started this fun series. It allowed you a bit of your old life when the concerts you performed was solely in your car with the steering wheel as the microphone.

Judy, your agent, was sitting in the lobby with her binder surrounding her when she looked with a sigh. Without a word, she tossed the keys to the rented car she knew you'd need, so in each city, she rented one. A smile of gratitude shared before you were out the door with your hood up.

"Be careful!" Judy exclaimed just as the sliding doors closed behind you, sending you out in the cold night.

Almost instantly, your cheeks turned a light pink in the cold winter air, even if the walk to the war was short. As requested, the car was a newer model but one that would blend in with other city cars. It made finding you harder, but the windows couldn't be tinted.

"Here's to hoping I get a place with good acoustics." You muttered, starting the hatchback vehicle. Despite the cold winter weather, the road conditions were surprisingly okay, but then again, you were from a small town. Roads were shit in general.

You didn't bother playing music as you used the drive to find a parking garage and warm up your throat. Your vocal coach would have your head if you didn't warm-up, and then Judy would kill you even more.

You lucked out in a parking garage to a building that seemed to be a renovated warehouse with insanely cool windows. The metal was a dark shamrock green with a multitude of small rectangular glass between the metal. The panes swung open upwards in a fascinating design.

"Perfect." You muttered, signalling to turn into the parking garage that was easily accessed and without any trespassing signs. It was desolate, with cars parked here and there in the stalls.

A bright orange Subaru definitely took the cake as the most 'flashy' vehicle among the more nondescript ones. Not that it caught your attention when you lowered your windows marginally while simultaneously clipping the phone onto the dash. Immediately you double-checked for any apparent signs to your location before declaring it safe; with a tap of your finger, your Instagram live began.

"Welcome to another part of our Songbird Shenanigans. This time I'm in Oklahoma City for a two-day concert. The most requested song is Train Wreck by James Arthur."

Laying in the silence

Waiting for the sirens

Signs, any signs I'm alive still

I don't wanna lose it

I'm not getting through this

Hey, should I pray? should I pray

A natural instinct of closing your eyes as you got more into the music occurred. Your voice belted into the garage beautifully. Tons of comments appeared in the insta live chat of both supportive and haters.

username3: I suggested this song!!!

username88: Your voice goes perfectly with the song.

The song came to an end quicker than you would have liked since it was definitely one of your favourites to sing.

Unchain the reactions, I'm not ready to die, not yet

Pull me out of the train wreck

Pull me out, pull me out, pull me out

Pull me out, pull me out, pull me out

No action was helped back from taking a swig of water from the reusable bottle you had brought along. Your eyes scoured the comments for more suggestions or things that stuck out.

"Why don't you include hints in the Songbirds?” You read out from the comment section with a smile barely held back, "Why would I? You all know that my windows are often down, and even the most unoriginal locations have tells. There's been a few people that have found me."

Username13: I think I know where you are (insert heart emoji)

          ↳Username63: username13 where?! How do you know?

          ↳Username13: jatp is streaming all day and the guys are in a car. Same background

Your eyes read the short but interesting conversation between the two different accounts on something called jatp? Whatever that was.

"Any other requests?" You asked, scrolling through the suggestions, "Sing something from jatp? I'm sorry, guys, but I have no clue what that is? Is it a movie? OH! It's a show. My bad."

The comment section was flooded, "Okay! Let me look up the lyrics and the melody!"

Three males: a blonde and two brunettes, walked between the rows of both occupied and unoccupied parking spots. The blonde wearing a black t-shirt with BEANS written across the chest and the brunette with short slicked-back hair crowded the middle guy. All three pairs of eyes watched the iPhone stream the television series.

"I call shotgun!" Owen spoke as the car in question came into view, "We gotta Livestream in the car again!"

"Your neighbour sucks, man." Charlie groaned, nudging Jeremy to unlock the car when the older man hesitated.

"If we're going live in the car, we should cover your license plate," Jeremy suggested to a resounding agreement. 

Charlie drove an obscenely vibrant coloured car that could be picked out quickly, so he didn't need any help in broadcasting his location. Owen grabbed the book from the passenger seat to angle it to lean against the plate.

"Done!" Owen called, racing back to climb into the car with his friends. The blonde-haired man bounced in his seat as the owner of the vehicle set up the screen.

In seconds, the streaming went from the app on the phone to the car's built-in screen to the boys' delight. In a moment of what some may call brilliance and others stupidity Owen went live on Instagram with Charlie joining him swiftly.

"Do you rem-"

Username76: Songbird chose a shitty location.

           ↳Username 39: Or we just got a Hail Mary hint

"Who is Songbird?" Charlie questioned, leaning closer to his friends in the front, catching a few comments.

The comments were mixed among other unrelated ones, but all had Songbird, Shenanigans or both words. The mystery was so intriguing the boys turned down the show to scour the comments for tidbits.

"Wait? Do you hear that?" Jeremy questioned, scanning the parking garage with his blue, green eyes. Soon his head was sticking out the window, "Someone is singing here."

Jeremy's hand turned the key of the car, "Is that-"

"Oh, no." Owen groaned, seeing that specific light appear in Charlie's eyes just as it did each time one of the songs came on. His pink beanie slid around his long blonde locks.

The two guys watched as the second oldest in their group did some kind of shimmy after pushing his phone to Jeremy. Jeremy's hand scrambled to get a grip on the phone as Charlie delved into his love for these songs. Sharing a look, Jeremy and Owen followed the Canadian to a car with a girl singing in the open hatchback car.

(Italics is you! Italics and bold is Charlie and you! Just bold is Charlie!)

When you were lonely, you needed a man.

Someone to lean on, well I understand

It's only natural

But why did it have to be me?

Your eyes remained shut as you neared the middle of the first verse. You completely stopped when a voice joined. Your e/c eyes met the twinkling brown of a handsome guy with the best voice you'd heard in a long time.

Nights can be empty, and nights can be cold

So you were looking for someone to hold

That's only natural

But why did it have to be me?

Your lips parted in a grin as you grabbed the hand being offered to be pulled out of the car; on your way, your hand nudged your phone. Your phone was in a mount attached to the roof of the hatch. When you followed the stranger, the phone turned in perfect view. Your free hand turned to hover over your forehead, legs bending to feign a swoon.

I was so lonesome, I was blue

I couldn't help it, it had to be you and I

Always thought you knew the reason why

Charlie beamed playing being shot by the arrow you pretended to shoot with a grin planted on your own lips. Charlie's hand flirted with your hip as you sashayed around his body from his left to his right. Hand grabbing a first full of his white with light teal with light pink design to tug him chest to chest.

I only wanted a little love affair

Now I can see you are beginning to care

But baby, believe me

It's better to forget me

In turn, Charlie grabbed your wrist to twirl you into his arms straight into an impressive dip with the toe of your shoe pointed to the far wall. Your fingers just barely caressing the rough paved lot.

"I'm Charlie," Charlie murmured during the instrumental between the chorus and the second verse. Your eyes scanned his features with an expression you would later be glad was hidden from the lighting in the garage.

"Y/N." You breathed, clutching his shoulders still low in the dip, hoping subconsciously that your breath was still fresh.

"Wanna finish this?" Charlie spoke, searching your eyes with his own; up close, you could see his eyes were a mixture of colours. You only nodded before he continued singing to the music.

Men are the toys in the game that you play

When you get tired, you throw them away

That's only natural

But why did it have to be me?

"Are you seeing this?" Jeremy whispered to Owen as they watched Charlie literally sweep a stranger off her feet. Owen could only nod as Charlie went into the next verse, still dancing as if he was in Mamma Mia 2.

Falling in love with a woman like you

Happens so quickly, there's nothing to do

It's only natural

But why did it have to be me?

Charlie spun you back away from his body in a graceful twirl your choreographer would be incredibly proud of. The moves you made somehow made sense, with the movements matching the spontaneous duet-er.

I was so lonesome, I was blue

I couldn't help it, it had to be you and I

Always thought you knew the reason why

Once more in his arms dancing, he dipped you once more as you finished the end of the last chorus breathing heavily. The two strangers staring intensely into each other's eyes with an intense look that had tensions in the parking garage.

I only wanted a little love affair

Now I can see you are beginning to care

But baby, believe me

It's better to forget me

"Intense." Owen chuckled as Charlie raised you back onto your feet with a matching grin to yours, "Oh! Look at the comments!"

Username24: Holy shit! They ooze chemistry!!

           ↳Username9: lol, okay Alex. 

"You aren't a viewer, are you?" You breathlessly laughed, taking a step away from Charlie as the music faded away.

The equally breathless spontaneous performing partner laughed as well, "I heard the song and hoped for the best."

"Are you Songbird?" Came a voice from a few feet away. Behind the once upon a time stranger stood two males approaching slowly.

"Oh!" You gasped, turning on your heel to see where your phone was pointing, "Well, that's convenient! One moment."

Jeremy and Owen flanked Charlie as you repositioned the phone at the moment with practised precision. You kept the three people out of the shot for privacy reasons.

"There is about ten minutes away from the end of this installment being over. For the first time since we started this series, I had a duet." You playfully laughed, looking over at the trio, "It's completely up to my sudden partner, but would you like to meet your audience?"

Charlie simply shrugged, "Sure. They've seen you be serenaded by a stranger."

A short laugh came from the three individuals around Charlie as he moved into the camera frame with a large smile. As soon as he was in sight, the comment section went nuts, furthering when Owen and Jeremy came into view.

Username1: DREAM COME TRUE

           ↳Username4: omg jatp in Songbird Shenanigans?? Life accomplished.

You couldn't hold back the snort at the comments you could read quickly as they disappeared after new ones. The three guys couldn't help but chuckle as well.

"I've never seen these guys before. If you could introduce yourselves." You asked the three guests, to which each sent a reassuring smile to your hesitance.

"I'm Charlie Gillespie, and these are my friends Owen Joyner and Jeremy Shada." Charlie took the liberty of introducing both his friends and himself. His heart fluttered at the adorable smile that had appeared on your pretty face.

"I'm afraid this concludes this edition of Songbird." You apologized to the camera as the time passed the allotted hour and a half. The comments turned sad before most of them started sending questions, "I'll let you know when I do another edition! Bye for now!"

Your finger clicked the end button firstly before clicking the save button for when you would upload it to your account later.

"Thank you for doing that. I'm Y/N." You chuckled, shaking hands with Jeremy and Owen, who each grinned back, "So what brought you guys to the parking garage with three phones and a live-action Animal Crossing shirt?"

Amusement was found on all four young adults in the parking garage, pinning a gaze at the material. You had to admit you kinda adored the shirt, or maybe the person wearing it was the reason.

"We're trying to get Julie and the Phantoms to number one again." Owen offered as he displayed the live still going on his phone. 

"That's a tv series. That was the second song I did on the live before Charlie joined the little concert." You told the boys all the while aware that thousands of people watched from the phone still streaming.

"The phone's about to die." Owen piped up, catching the single decimal number broadcasting the percentage. Without any prompting, he ended the live to save it solely for the little performance Charlie did.

"Did you save it?" Jeremy asked, lifting on his tiptoes to check the phone Owen had commanded for the last half hour. Like Owen, Jeremy wanted to save it solely for the stellar performance.

"So, how'd this series start?" Charlie questioned, pushing his hands into his pockets, ignoring the subtle glances of his best friend.

"I needed an escape from touring so many cities. It's reminiscent of the days before I was discovered. When my audience was the dials in my car and my family." You half-smiled, recalling all the times you had simply driven around to sing.

"You're a musician?"

"I am. I'm currently on tour for my second album. Every second or third city I'm performing in, I take the rented car to parking lots or garages to sing. I always have a prize for the fans that find me."

"Could I get your number?" Charlie hesitantly questioned. His features twisting with the manipulation of nerves.

His palms had gone clammy enough to inconspicuously wipe them on his legs; this version of Charlie was unfamiliar. Owen and Jeremy had only ever seen him as this bundle of joy and energy, not to say he didn't have his low days, instead of nervous. Owen slipped his fingers behind his back to cross them. He hoped his Canadian friend would get it.

"You don't leak mine, and I won't leak yours." Your e/c eyes twinkled with the brush of Charlie's warm fingers on your own. The new contact waiting for his information, "Maybe we can meet up with each other?"

"I'd love that."

Madison Square Garden, New York City, New York, Unspecified Date

The sounds of screams and heavy instruments blocked by the unique in-ears explicitly made for your ears alone. You'd heaved, catching a breath after such an energetic song you'd just performed for the sold-out venue. You just jogged to the side for a chug of water as your band switched instruments.

"Are you having fun tonight!" You asked the crowd who had fought tooth and nail for tickets. The crowd screamed back louder than before.

Selling out MSG for completely insane even after touring the country with your band three times. It was still a little jarring, going from a nobody with untapped potential to selling out concerts and very successful albums, in all honesty.

"That's what I like to hear!" You beamed, pushing a strand of your unruly hair away from your face. Your eyes momentarily cast to the side stage with the equipment hiding the crew, "I have a surprise for you. A couple years ago, I had a spontaneous duet partner during one of Songbird Shenanigans. I'd like to invite my fiance Charlie out here."

The crowd went nuts as Charlie wandered towards you from the side of the stage away from Owen, Jeremy and Madison. Charlie's hazel eyes scoured the oceans of your e/c eyes he got to wake up to each morning. Mostly when Julie and the Phantoms had been offered to open for you; to be frank, it was more of an unspoken co-headlining.

"Can we tell?" You asked, keeping the mic covered and away from your body. Your body bounced, waiting for the smile from him.

Charlie nodded, accepting the guitar from one of the crew members. It was a song you had written a few months back. Charlie had memorized the entire piece with the deep adoration he felt for it.

The couple perched on the bar stools brought to the middle of the stage with a secret smile. One that only they and their immediate family understood.

Three months ago, you had sat Charlie down in your home to play him a little song that changed everything.

Charlie placed the last bag of groceries on the counter when he felt arms wrap around his midsection. He immediately knew that it was you welcoming him home from a very short trip to the store. In a swift move, he had manoeuvred you to sit on the counter while he scooched himself between your legs.

"Hi." Charlie breathed, rising to press a kiss against the smooth skin of your cheek, leaving heat in its wake.

"I want your opinion on a song." You burst out, unable to refrain from showing him a song you had been secretly working on. The French Canadian was beyond intrigued by the sudden announcement from his fiance.

"Oh?"

"Come." You coaxed the man from the kitchen to the designated music room filled with instruments of all kinds—even a recent addition of a recording booth in the corner with high-end equipment.

You bypassed everything for the grand piano you didn't play as often as you wished to be able to. Your fingers brushed the ivory keys for a mere second before you began playing the melody.

I, I have known love before

I thought it would no more

Take on a new direction

Still, strange as it seems to be

It's truly new to me

That affection

The smile that grew across Charlie's expressive face was uncapturable from the best of the best; he adored your voice. He had a personal ringtone you had explicitly done for him a few months into the relationship.

I, I don't know what you do

You make me think that you

Will change my life forever

I, I'll always want you near

Give up on you, my dear

I will never

You thrill me, you delight me

You please me, you excite me

You're all that

I've been yearning for

I love you, I adore you

I lay my life before you

I only want you more and more

And finally it seems

My lonely days are through

I've been waiting for you

Charlie's frown, however, faltered as your face ever so slightly paled with trepidation coating your pretty irises. Your voice even quivered with nerves he'd never heard before, but it made sense from the third verse started.

I'll carry you all the way

And you will choose the day

When you're prepared to greet me

I'll be a good mum, I swear

You'll see how much I care

When you meet me

You finished the song with the last note drawn out ever so softly, freezing as the room went quiet once more. This song was definitely vulnerable and personal; you felt naked under Charlie's silent stare.

"You're really?" Charlie breathlessly chuckled, his wide eyes screaming disbelief.

After a few years together with an engagement ring on both of your fingers after you had both proposed to each other, with the relationship very serious, you two had decided to stop contraceptives and let everyone happen if it was too happen.

"Yeah." You laughed as he swept you off the bench into his arms, "We have little Birdie to prepare for."

"I love you so damn much." Charlie choked out, spinning the two of you around in his arms. The smile never fading as he drank in the special moment of learning you had created a life together.

PRESENT

"With the impending arrival of our child, I will be taking a break to prepare. Even though I wouldn't be performing, I will still do Songbird Shenanigans. I'll just have to up my game on staying as hidden as possible." You informed the audience as the song came to an end. 

Next thing you knew, you couldn't discern between the crowd and your friends now on stage screaming. You were able to feel Charlie's hand on your barely-there baby bump and his lips pressed against your temple.

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[akaashisbabygirl]

make me yours

if you know the original source of this picture! please dm me or let me know in my inbox so i can tag them

A/n: I am so excited to finally post my first length fic. I wrote a fic before about mafia akaashi and reader falling in love, and this one is similar but different as they are rival rivals. Check that one out too if you enjoyed this one!! I’m considering making a part two if this leaves people wondering what’s going to happens next <3 I wrote this story in third person as it was easier for me, for anyone wondering

Words: 6005

Pairings: Mafia!Akaashi x Mafia!Reader

Warnings: nsfw, characters are aged up, sex, oral (giving and receiving), hickeys, vaginal penetration, fingering

“Akaashi Keiji...” Yamiji, the great boss of the Fukurōdani mafia called out, stopping the young-looking boy in his tracks.

“What is it, sir?” Akaashi asked, his handsome turquoise eyes moving to face his boss.

“I need your advice with something... come with me.”

Akaashi nodded, tailing his boss down the lengthy corridor of the mafia building and into the headquarters where the boss generally stayed. Standing with his arms behind his back, Akaashi gently fiddled with his fingers, anxiously waiting for what the boss had called him in for. No one usually comes in Yamiji’s office, not unless something is the matter that he needs to discuss with them about. Akaashi wondered if he had done anything wrong. He didn’t want to be kicked out of the mafia - where would he go?

“We are at what seems like a war with the Nekoma mafia...” Yamiji started.

“Shit... that’s not good,” Akaashi thought. he knew that Bokuto, his best friend in the mafia was somewhat friends with Kuroo, one of the members of the Nekoma mafia. The two boys were close, Akaashi knew that. He wondered how Bokuto was going to take the news that they are now at what felt like a war against each other.

“And we want to be victorious... as usual. So, I’ve been working on some things lately and I’ve come up with a plan on how we can get the first laugh,” Yamiji’s choices of words were interesting, according to Akaashi.

“What is it, sir?” he asked, eyes now opening fully to know about the situation.

“What if the person we take out first it Nekomata’s daughter, Y/n?”

Akaashi thought about it for a second, “That would work. She is the head of the mafia’s daughter. Her death would be problematic with the Nekoma mafia, but then I fear they would come after us if they found out that we were the ones who assassinated her.

“Yeah! About that, don’t worry, Akaashi. I’ve already figured out ways we could get away with it. First option was to make it look like Nekoma’s other rival - Nohebi. Make it seem like they were the ones who ordered the assassination of Nekomata’s daughter,” Yamiji explained, chuckling evilly at his own plans.

“I believe that would work, but I’m not sure. do you have someone who you’ve picked to assassinate her?” Akaashi asked, just out of curiosity.

“Oh... yeah. Actually, about that, I was wondering if you could be that person?” Yamiji asked.

Akaashi blinked a couple times, to make sure he wasn’t daydreaming.

“You want me to do... what?” Akaashi thought he was dreaming. This didn’t seem right. In the mafia, he was only respected for being the brains of the group – nothing more.

“I would like you to be the one who assassinates Y/n. Will that be alright with you? I know you’re busy and all...”

“Yeah- no, no it should be alright,” Akaashi knew that he wasn’t able to defy the boss. He had to do what he was assigned.

“Really? Thank you, Akaashi!”

“You’re welcome sir. I promise, I won’t fail you.”

__________________________________________

I promise, I won’t fail you

The words ran through Akaashi’s mind on repeat, just like an echo. His eyes sat fixated on the naked girl standing in the bedroom, admiring her stunning body in the large, wide mirror. He could admit it – she had a nice body, she was an attractive girl, but he rejected to believe that she was Nekomata’s daughter.

She looked nothing like that old man. Her hair was (your hair length) and (your hair colour). She was young, looking around his age, maybe even younger.

How hadn’t she noticed him yet?

The dark grey curtains were wide open, the vivid light from the bedroom obvious to anyone who was looking up at the tall building.

How hadn’t she noticed him yet?

The boy settled with a mask concealing his face, donned in black clothing, standing on her balcony watching her. Or did she notice him and was acting like she didn’t. Judging by her facial expressions – she didn’t.

Akaashi watched as she slipped on the small nightgown that lay on the chair next to the mirror. She looked… stunning. How the fuck was she Nekomata’s daughter? She couldn’t be, unless her father had hooked up with someone, or Y/n had just got all her mother���s looks – that would only make sense.

Akaashi’s turquoise eyes were set on her – why did she make his chest hurt. She was nothing like he’d ever seen before, blowing him away so quickly.

He noticed her body turn to the windows, walking over. Akaashi tried to hide. Fuck. Did she notice him? Was she coming out to confront him, or even attempt to kill him? He would’ve been classified as a creep if anyone saw him standing on her balcony. He tried to hide himself to the best of his ability, turning his back around to blend in with the dark night sky. He held his breath, his eyes carrying a sign of fear as he silently prayed that he wouldn’t get caught.

A sigh of relief escaped Akaashi’s precious lips as he heard the curtains shut and the footsteps of Y/n walking off.

“It’s time to get out of here…” he muttered to himself, his mind now forgetting about the original plan to murder Y/n tonight. He couldn’t do it. Not now at least. He couldn’t kill her while he was still unsure why she had been making him feel slightly different. Akaashi sighed to himself, climbing down the rope he had used to get up.

__________________________________________

“I’m sorry sir…” Akaashi bowed in front of Yamiji, his eyes clenched shut as he prepared himself for his punishment, “I-I couldn’t kill her… I don’t know why… but I couldn’t.”

Yamiji sighed, “I really thought you would be the perfect person for this task, Akaashi. But, that’s not a problem. I can always just take you off the job and find another one of the members in this mafia to go kill her. I’m sure they’ll do it without a second thought.”

“NO.”

Akaashi didn’t know why he was screaming at this point. He couldn’t tell someone why his eyes were widened with shock from hearing his own boss say he would take him off the job. He wanted to prove that he was able to do what he was ordered to – that he wasn’t scared to do what he was assigned. But, all that Akaashi wanted to know was why she made him feel… odd? Why was there an instant urge to protect her when Yamiji said he would get someone else on the job? Why did he think she looked so beautiful when she had been disposed of her clothes?

“S-Sir… just let me have this job… please. I will go back whenever I can and try to kill her. Just please, let me have this job,” Akaashi silently mumbled, trying to conceal his inner feelings, fearing what his own boss would think of him for the way he acted.

“I’m going to leave you on the job, Akaashi. But you must promise me that you will kill her.”

“Yes sir. I promise.”

__________________________________________

“What’s with you, Akaashi?” Bokuto asked, his hand colliding with Akaashi’s back, almost making him choke on his water, “I heard the boss has given you a task to do… something important even.”

Akaashi sat his glass down on the table as his best friend went to sit across from him.

“You could say that.”

“What is it?” Bokuto asked in a curious tone.

“I… have to assassinate Nekomata’s daughter.”

“Nekomata’s daughter? Wait… from the Nekoma mafia?” Bokuto’s golden eyes widened in shock.

Akaashi only nodded I response.

“BRO. THAT’S SUCH AN IMPORTANT TASK.”

“Quiet down!”

“Oops… sorry. But, seriously Akaashi. I can’t believe it. You’ve been given such an important task, considering that we’re currently in war with the Nekoma mafia!”

__________________________________________

Akaashi stood on the silver balcony once more, peering into the room that Y/n stood in once again. This time, she was dressed fully in black clothing, similar to him. He hid his gun from himself, only threating to actually use it if someone did catch him standing up there.

There was no way in hell he could kill her. He didn’t have the guts to. At this point in life, Akaashi could only stand there and watch the beautiful girl who stood on the other end of the door. Her (your hair colour) hair was spread across the pillow on her bed, her attention drawn to her phone. Akaashi still wondered if she knew he were there – hopefully she didn’t.

He was sure of it now. Sure, that he didn’t want her dead. He wanted to keep seeing her like this. Keep watching her from her balcony like a stalker. He loved the way she sat on her bed, her (your hair colour) hair spread out on the pillow behind you, your attention directed to your phone. Akaashi sighed in defeat – there wasn’t going to be any way for him to get you to notice him, and it wouldn’t be long before Yamiji hired someone else to murder you.

He couldn’t fall in love.

He knew he couldn’t, because if anything were to ever happen to you, he would be heartbroken. Akaashi sighed. As much as he wanted to continue to stare at your beautiful features, he knew he couldn’t stay here for long. He would have to leave eventually.

__________________________________________

Kuroo sat in his chair, his feet up on the table as he whistled while Y/n walked by. Y/n rolled her eyes, ignoring him to the best of her ability.

“Hey kitten,” the tall, black haired boy smirked.

Y/n rolled her eyes, trying to walk past, only to have the boy grab onto her wrist. She struggled to free her wrist, but Kuroo was stronger than her, so really, there was no use.

“Let go of me, Kuroo,” she demanded, an angry tone filling her soft voice.

“Kitten… you know you want me to be with you. Come on. Why waste your time on some random boy when you can just be with me. You know I’ll treat you like the queen you are,” Kuroo winked.

She would only roll her eyes in response. It had become a regular occurrence where Kuroo would come up to her and suggest a relationship. However, she never wanted to be in a relationship – not now at least, and most definitely not with him. She was sick of being in the mafia with Kuroo, he was too much of a flirt. It made her a target of his, being the only girl in the Nekoma mafia.

“You say that, Kuroo, but the last girl you were in a relationship with, you cheated on her.”

“Yeah, but she wasn’t special. I just wanted to be with you, kitten.”

“I’m not taking any of your bullshit, Kuroo. I’ve told you at least a hundred, or even a thousand times, I do not want to be in a relationship with you. now, leave me the fuck alone. Father wants to see me for something!” you argued back, pulling your wrist from Kuroo’s grasp and storming off.

“Fucking bitch,” Kuroo muttered underneath his breath.

Y/n made her way as quick as possible up to her father’s office. She knew that if she wasn’t fast, Kuroo was going to come right after her. She didn’t want that – she didn’t want him. By this point, she was sick and tired of him and his bullshit. He would confess his love to her one day, and that exact night he’d be pulling a new girl into his bedroom and fucking her. It became obvious to her eyes that Kuroo really wasn’t interested, and she herself wasn’t planning on spending anytime waiting around for a boy who was unsure of his feelings.

Her body stood outside the dark, wooden doors of her father’s office. Her soft fingertips pressed against the keypad, typing in the special passcode of the office that only he gave her. The doors automatically opened, her father’s figure sitting at his desk now being visible to her (your eye colour) eyes.

“Hello Y/n,” her father’s evil smirk appeared onto his old face.

“What have you called me here for, father?” she never liked being called into her father’s office for long. She wanted to do her own thing, not sit around and listen to her father’s bullshit every once in a while.

“Oh, I see you’re jumping straight to the point.”

“Precisely. So, what is it that you want from me today?”

Nekomata took a breath before speaking again, “I have a task for you, my precious girl. You know how we are currently at war with the Fukurōdani mafia? I believe they’re going to send an assassin from their shitty group to come after one of our members… and their smartest member, Akaashi, would be a perfect first start for us.”

“What’s the thing with Akaashi?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“He’s the smartest one in their group. If we’re able to kill him first, the Fukurōdani mafia should knew not to mess with us.”

“Why exactly do you want me to be the one who kills Akaashi? Why can’t you pick someone else like Kenma or maybe even Kuroo? You know both of them would love to have that job.”

“Because both boys seem to have a slight friendship with Akaashi and Bokuto. They would both hesitate to take their so-called friend’s life, that is why I’m entrusting this mission to you, my sweet girl,” Nekomata explained.

You could only scoff, folding your arms as you stared at your father.

“So, what do you say, my dear? Will you be up to the task, or should I call someone else to do it for you?” her father asked.

He knew she loved to take on a challenge, which is why he threatened to give the job to someone else if she wasn’t up to it. He knew his ways to get what he wanted, and in times of need, he wouldn’t forget about these ways. Nekomata always got what he wanted.

“I will.”

__________________________________________

Y/n stood at her mirror, admiring her body. Her beautiful hair had been tied up in a lower ponytail, enough to keep it out of her face. Her body was draped with black clothing, mainly pants and a shirt, a belt strapped around her waist which was to hold her weapons.

She sighed; her eyes still focused on your body in the mirror. How did she end up in his position? How did she go from such an innocent girl to someone who took other people’s lives without any care in the world?

Quickly, she fled from her apartment, making her way to the address of this Akaashi fellow’s home.

Where he lived was such a beautiful place. Why was she feeling this way? Why was she imminently drawn to the place where he called home?

She climbed up the balcony with the rope she stored in her backpack. Resting herself on Akaashi’s balcony, she noticed the curtains of his apartment only slightly opened. Peeking inside, she could see the flashes of the TV screen lighting up the dark room, making out the figure of a boy sitting up against the bed head.

He had a dull look on his face – almost as if he was upset for some reason. Why did he look like that? Slowly she shook her head. She shouldn’t be thinking like this. Not at all. Her mind should’ve only been focused on the boy she was assigned to kill.

But why did she want to hold him so badly?

He looked young – just a little older than her. He had beautiful, messy, black hair, a decent body, dressed in a dark coloured shirt and some grey sweatpants. He was a good-looking boy. Y/n could only shake her head again.

Stop, stop, stop, stop. Why are you thinking like this, Y/n?

She shook her head, trying to throw the thoughts form her mind. That didn’t work. Her soft, (your eye colour) eyes sat focused on Akaashi, watching his every movement. She needed the right moment for when he was unarmed to go into the room and attack him. It wasn’t her first kill – so it was nothing new to her. She knew what she was doing.

She sat on his balcony, watching him for what felt like an hour before she noticed the boy get up from his spot on the bed. He walked down the corridor, shutting one of the doors behind him. He was probably using the restroom.

She used that opportunity to sneak into the apartment. How careless of this boy? Leaving the door unlocked for anyone to secretly walk in without him even realising. Quietly, she shut the glass door behind her, turning around to find a place to hide. She didn’t think about the situation. Where was she going to hide? What was she going to do? She didn’t think of anything properly at all.

“Just as I expected,” Her body jumped, hearing the voice of a man in the bedroom.

Anxiously, she turned around to find Akaashi standing behind her, his arms folded and a glare spreading over his face. She was able to see him more clearly now – he did indeed have a beautiful looking face. He was a beautiful boy.

When her father had first brought him up, she thought that he was going to be an older looking man, someone who had been in the mafia for several years – but her thoughts were wrong. Too wrong.

Akaashi stepped forward, only causing her to step back, trying her best to get away from him. These actions continued, until the back of her legs met with the edge of Akaashi’s bed. Why wasn’t she drawing her gun? She had it on her right now, she could use it to protect herself, but she didn’t.

Akaashi was now standing directly in front of her, chest against chest. Her body had lost all of its control. Akaashi’s hands flew up, pushing her down onto the bed. She wasn’t fighting back, not at all. She was completely mesmerised by this boy, by the way he acted and what he looked like. He was nothing compared to the Akaashi who she had imagined.

Akaashi kneeled onto the bed, pinning her tiny body underneath his large frame. His hands pinned her wrists down onto the sheets.

“You’re Y/n Nekomata,” how was his voice attractive too?

Why did she sound like she was falling for him?

“H-How do you know who I am?” she asked, her eyes widening.

“Because, my boss asked me to assassinate you. And now, you show up outside my apartment, even going as far to sneak into my apartment? You’re so rude, Y/n. I never once broke into your apartment when I was there,” he smirked.

Son of a bitch.

Why was he like this?

Why did his words create a blush that began to spread across her face? She didn’t like it when Kuroo touched her, pinning her to the wall or even trying anything remotely sexual with her, but she was fine with being pinned underneath the body of the man she was assigned to kill.

“Y-You’ve been to my apartment?” She didn’t know what else to say at this point. She had become absolutely speechless.

Akaashi stayed absolutely silent. She could only wonder now. Was Akaashi also assigned to assassinate her?

“I think it’s time you leave.”

The heartbreaking words that she didn’t want to hear fell from Akaashi’s lips.

However, she didn’t want to leave. Y/n wanted to stay pinned underneath his gorgeous body for as long as she could. She wanted to be close to him, bodies touching with the minimum lighting in the bedroom. Was she attracted to him? Maybe. Because, if this feeling was a normal feeling, why didn’t she feel the same way when it came to Kuroo, someone who she wasn’t ordered to kill from a rival mafia? Did the thrill of herself getting caught by someone with the man you’ve been assigned to kill thrill her in some way? Maybe. But honestly, she didn’t even know herself.

“C-Can you get off me first?” She asked, a small, playful chuckle leaving her lips.

Akaashi only smirked before letting go of her wrists, standing up and watching her pull herself from her laying down position. She readjusted her hair, grabbing her small bag that had fallen to the floor when he pinned her down.

She jumped, feeling a hand slip underneath her shirt and to her belt, grabbing the gun. Her head turned with widened eyes towards Akaashi, with her gun now sitting in his hand.

“I’ll be taking this from now on.”

He was truly a smart boy. A boy that she now wanted to meet again. She couldn’t kill him – especially not when he ignited some sort of fire inside of her body that she thought she lost.

__________________________________________

Y/n stood on the balcony once again, just like the week before. The curtains had been opened a little more this time. Akaashi was in the same position as last time, his back pressed up against the headboard as the glowing lights from the TV brought light to the dark room.

She could only sit and watch. She wanted to be caught by him again – if he would ever notice her. Y/n sat and watched; her eyes sitting focused on the boy who seemed to have no idea that she was there.

Y/n watched as his hand came into contact with the remote, pressing the pause button. He got up from his resting spot, walking over to the window.

He was coming towards her.

She didn’t know if she should move or stay and wait for him to find her. She wanted to feel him again, she wanted to be close to him. Even though, right now the smartest option was to move and leave before he could find her.

But she couldn’t move.

The curtains were drawn open, her face now meeting with Akaashi once again. The glass door slid open, Akaashi’s hand moving out to grab onto her wrist tightly, pulling her into the room. He pushed her towards the side, locking the door and shutting the curtains. He couldn’t have anyone seeing the two of them together.

“You haven’t been here in a week. I was starting to think you had gotten bored of me,” Akaashi smiled as he rested the palm of his hand on her cheek.

“My father wanted to spend some time with me, so I’ve been at his mansion for the last week,” she answered.

Seeing him like this, she was able to notice his height. He was tall, taller than her. She had to move her head up, just so she was able to stare into his turquoise coloured eyes.

“You keep coming back. Why is that?” Akaashi asked.

“I have to kill you…”

She has to kill him. That was what she was assigned. But she couldn’t. He had taken her only gun away from her the first time the two met face to face. It was childish of her to keep running back to the same guy she shouldn’t be with.

“You won’t.”

“What do you mean, I won’t?” she asked, her eyebrows furrowing.

“You won’t kill me.”

“Of course, I will. Why would you think I wouldn’t?”

“You’re here right now. You let yourself get caught.”

He wasn’t wrong. This is what her dad meant when he said that Akaashi was smart.

“Y-You…”

Akaashi smirked, leaning forward and pressing his lips onto her own. His lips were soft, but his kiss was strong and filled with passion. Her mind had gone completely blank, unable to focus properly. She returned the kiss, letting him slip his tongue past her lips.

This was wrong.

She pulled her lips from his, her mouth slowly parted as she looked up at him. She wanted him to tell her to stay, so she could get to know him. She wanted to stay. She didn’t want to leave him again. Akaashi had tugged at her heart strings harshly, and now, she didn’t know what to do without him.

“You need to leave. You can’t keep coming back here.”

She felt her heart sink.

__________________________________________

Y/n’s hands flew to his black hair. Her legs began to feel shaky as she came into contact with the back of the bed. Akaashi only pushed her forward, her back now meeting with the soft sheets of the bed

It had been weeks since he first kissed her. Weeks of her sneaking back to his apartment because she desperately needed to see him. It had been the same with Akaashi too. There had been days where he made his way over to her apartment, sitting on her balcony and watching as she fell asleep, making sure she was safe.

Truth was – he didn’t want her to leave.

He knew she wasn’t, as she kept appearing at his apartment. He continued to let her in, as he started to realise, he was falling for her. It was obvious that she was falling for him too; especially with the small blush that would appear onto her face when he would touch her or kiss her.

His hands moved to her wrists, pinning them down tightly onto the bed once more. Akaashi’s lips moved from her lips, down to her neck, sucking on her soft, delicate skin. Soft pants flew from her lips as he found her sweet spot.

His lips began to suck on her collar bone, hands desperately tugging on her black shirt, desperate for the material to come off.

“C-Can I?”

Even though she was from a rival mafia gang, he still wanted to take his time with her. He wanted her to feel safe in his arms.

“Y-Yeah…”

Instantly, he slipped the black shirt from her body, revealing her lace, black bra. It was almost as if she had planned for this exact moment.

“You’ve been thinking about this for a while, haven’t you?” He smirked, burying his head into her chest.

Akaashi’s hands flew to her back, unclasping her bra. He pulled away, throwing her bra onto the floor where the rest of her clothes lay, discarded somewhere on the wooden floorboards. Her hands flew to cover her breasts from his eyes, but Akaashi only held onto her hands, pinning them back down onto the bed. He noticed the small blush which began to sit on her cheeks, due to her chest being exposed to the boy she was supposed to kill.

This was stupid of her, to be all exposed, needy and wet for him. She had been assigned to go kill him, not sleep with him. It wasn’t her first-time having sex, she wasn’t a virgin, and it wasn’t the first time she and Akaashi had done something sexual. He had fingered her, gone down on her, and she’d even given him a blowjob. However, the two of them had never gone the full way before, and she wanted that to change tonight.

She wanted him to take her and make her his.

Akaashi’s soft lips wrapped around her nipple, sucking lightly. Her head was thrown back against the pillows, her breathing heavy, chest rising and her lips slightly parted. Akaashi switched his attention to her other nipple, a small whine leaving her lips.

“Keep your hands where they are. I don’t want to have to tie you to the headboard.”

She did as she was told. It was funny with how quickly Akaashi could pull her down into submission. His hands unbuttoned her pants, pulling the zipper down, tugging the black material down her legs. He pulled his own shirt off, throwing it to the pile of clothes on the floor, along with her pants. Akaashi pressed soft kisses onto the inside of her thigh, before coming into contact with her matching black, lace panties. He ran his finger along her clothed womanhood, a small moan falling from her lips. She was wet, soaking even.

“You’re soaking for me, baby.”

He slipped her panties down her legs, throwing them to the floor as he spread her legs apart for him. Her legs sat spread wide, her slick evident to his eyes. Akaashi dipped his head down to her womanhood, licking a strip around her folds, collecting her wetness on his tongue. His tongue pushed into her cunt, a louder moan falling from her lips. His lips moved up, sucking on her clit as his fingers toyed with her entrance. From how wet she was, he was able to push two fingers into her cunt. He dragged them along her tight walls, curling them inside which earned a sharp moan to fall from her lips.

Her body was sensitive to Akaashi’s touch. She craved him more than he craved her. Her hips bucked up as he was able to slip another finger inside of her, stretching her out for him. Akaashi’s fingers were long and slim, decorated with beautiful veins which stood out. His fingers hit spots deep inside of her. Her walls clenched tightly around Akaashi’s fingers, moans slipping from her lips as she lost control of her body.

“G-Gonna cum…” her voice was shaky, legs shaking as her climax washed over her like a wave.

Akaashi removed his fingers from her cunt, watching how her cum had coated his fingers. He brought his fingers to his lips, sucking on her cum. He watched as she tried to hide her face from him.

“Get on your knees,” he commanded.

Following orders, she moved onto her knees, watching how Akaashi now set himself up against the bed head, his legs spread as he stroked his clothed boner, “You know what to do.”

She crawled in between his legs, hands moving to unzip his pants, tugging them down his legs, along with his boxers. Her eyes came into contact with his member once again. She threw his clothes to the floor, her mouth moving down to wrap her lips around his length. Akaashi’s hand sat on top of her forehead, helping her take more of him into her mouth. She maintained eye contact with him as she went down on him

“Rub your clit for me, baby. Make yourself cum,” Akaashi moaned out.

She followed orders once again, rubbing her clit. Pleasure spread throughout her body as her wet cunt clenched around nothing. She could feel her arousal dripping down her thighs, her legs shaking as her clit became sensitive. Being sensitive, her climax built up almost quickly, her cum now shooting from her cunt, dripping down her legs and onto Akaashi’s bedsheets.

She felt horrible for ruining his sheets, but her mind was filled with lust and need for him to even consider apologising. Akaashi pulled his length from her lips, watching as drool began to slip from her lips.

Akaashi grabbed onto her hips, lining her up above his erect length. He helped push her down, her walls clenching tightly around his length. He knew she wasn’t a virgin, so he didn’t care much about making sure if it hurt or not. She clenched her eyes shut for a second. He was the biggest she had ever taken. He helped her take all of him in, before pulling her off of him. A small gasp left her lips as she was thrown back down against the bed, her legs being wrapped around Akaashi’s waist as he began to thrust into her.

He took his anger on the mafia out on her, tearing her tight cunt open with every thrust of his hips. The room began to be filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, loud moans falling from her lips as deep groans fell from Akaashi’s. He hated the fact that they were both assigned to kill each other, but they both couldn’t. he couldn’t accept the thought that she had to die, that she had to be killed in order for the Fukurōdani mafia to scare off the Nekoma mafia.

He wanted to be with her. She wanted to be with him.

He loves her. She loves him.

But they can’t be together. They can’t be seen in public. They can’t hang around and hold hands and make love to each other. They were rivals, but they were in love. Rivals in love. Two people who were exact opposites were in love. They were drawn to each other, desperate for each other. They needed each other to survive.

“A-Akaashi… I-I love y-you,” she moaned out without any care in the world.

Akaashi’s heart felt as it had stopped. Did she really just say that?

She wanted to hide the fact that she was in love with him, but now that her mind had been clouded with the feelings of love, passion and lust, she wasn’t able to conceal her feelings towards him.

“I love you too,” he groaned out, fingers moving to rub harsh circles on her clit while his lips moved to suck on her neck.

“C-Cumming… Akaashi.”

“M-Me too.”

The two both climaxed together, Akaashi’s seed shooting inside of her. He began to panic, knowing he didn’t pull out and that he wasn’t sure if she was on birth control or not. He pulled out of her, going to the bathroom to grab a towel as the thought ran through his mind. What the fuck did he just do?

He grabbed the wet towel, cleaning in between her legs.

“You need to go home…” Akaashi mumbled under his breath. He didn’t want her to leave. He wanted her to stay and spend the rest of the night with him, but he knew how dangerous it was for her to stay.

“I don’t want to leave. I want to stay with you! And- I-I don’t think I can walk.”

With the way her soft eyes were looking at him, soft and serious, he couldn’t say no. Instead, Akaashi pulled the bedsheets over her naked body, covering her and himself. Akaashi let his head rest on the pillow, her hands moving to rest on his chest as she curled up to his side, falling into a deep slumber.

__________________________________________

“Hey kitten,” Kuroo smirked.

She was sick and tired of Kuroo now. She wanted to scream and tell him that she’s in love with another boy. That she had sex with another boy and tell him that he needed to leave her alone or she would kill him.

But she couldn’t.

“How’s the mission going, kitten? Actually, killed him yet?” Kuroo smirked.

She wanted to scream. She couldn’t kill him.

“Just leave me alone Kuroo, I don’t want your pity.”

He only chuckled, “Suit yourself, kitten.”

He pushed her up against the wall, hands pinning hers to the cold, wooden wall, “Though, I will make you mine, if you like it or not.”

“You can’t.”

Kuroo tilted his head in confusion.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Someone has already made me theirs,” she smirked.

“That’s bullshit. Everyone in the mafia knows that you’re going to belong to me, and only me. No one would be stupid enough to touch you without my permission. You’re lying!”

It was almost as if Kuroo was trying to convince himself that she still was going to be with him, that she hadn’t been taken by someone who was going to love her more than he ever could.

“Pull the bandage from my neck and look. There is your proof.”

Kuroo tugged the bandage from around her neck. His eyes widened, noticing the dark purple marks which decorated her neck.

“Where the fuck did you get these?”

“From the boy who made me his, Kuroo.”

Kuroo threw the bandage to the floor in anger, “You fucking slut.”

“Correction. His slut,” you chuckled, watching as Kuroo stormed off in anger.

© all content belongs to akaashisbabygirl 2020, do not repost or change

[chocolate-parfait]

Yay, askbox is open! I hope that means requests too, if not please ignore this and sorry. But could I request another angst? Could I please ask for headcannons for Dazai (and the others could be either Theo, Vincent, Leo, Comte, Will or Arthot, you can choose two, 'cause I can't XD) who find their S/Os suicide note? You can take it wherever you want from there. Thank you so much, love your works <3 Have a grwat day!

Hi @robin-the-enby !! I'm happy to see you in my inbox again, and although this took me embarrassingly long (my procrastination tendencies and school got the better of me :,)), I'm more than happy to provide something that will help with your coping! Despite it all, I hope that you'll get better soon and hang on a while longer. I'm sure this prolonged pandemic has had negative effects on most people's mental health, but remember that we'll get through this in one way or the other! Stay strong and keep fighting, if it gets too much don't hesitate to take a break and go easy on yourself❤

Halfway through I realized I was writing scenarios instead of simple headcanons ,, I was too engrossed in writing to realize it oops 🧍‍♀️ 🧍‍♀️ 🧍‍♀️

Finding MC'S suicide note - Ikevamp headcanons (Dazai, Arthur & Leonardo)

(TW; suicide / mentions of self-harm / major character death / blood)

(CW; slight and inaccurate spoilers for Dazai's past)

For those who'd like to avoid specific contents, this is what I wrote for each suitor:

Dazai - MC is unconscious and bleeding, I didn't specify whether they survive or not

Arthur - MC is stopped before they can do anything, survives

Leonardo - MC isn't stopped in time, dies

Dazai

It was as if history was repeating itself. The message, the bloodied sheets and the unconscious body. The only different thing was perhaps.... him. It was a him that had experienced true happiness, a him that had learned forgiveness, a him that knew better than retort to suicide as a way of repentance. And yet... was it not enough? Dazai's mind swirled with the pungent thoughts of his own fate as he ran with your body in his arms. He ran, and ran, and ran, passing by a seemingly endless succession of hallways and wooden doors.

Never before did he wish your room was closer to Arthur's, as he felt your body grow colder and his clothes dampen with blood with each step forward. And yet the stars that were now adorning the night sky's black cape, seemed to be offering their compassion to him, for when Dazai burst into the writer's room he saw him sitting at his desk, completely sober and still functioning in the middle of the night.

Arthur slightly turned in his chair, and as he was about to comment with displeasure how rude it was of the man to come into his room completely unannounced, his mouth was left agape and eyes wide open, wordlessly staring at your limp and seemingly unmoving body as the smell of blood hit his nostrils in mere seconds.

"What in the Heavens happened-?!" Arthur abruptly stood up, leaving his half-finished manuscript forgotten on the table, rushing closer to check your pulse. The two novelists had never liked each other, a difference in life choices maybe, but it surely was not a hate that could surpass even the most perilous of situations, particularly because you were an outsider to their rivalry. As such, Arthur did not hesitate to put to good use all his medical knowledge, carefully rushing through every step to avoid the worst.

Seconds slowly transformed into hours, although Dazai was convinced time had stopped ever since the moment he had found you on your bed, utterly frozen in a state of unconsciousness with a crumpled letter of apologies laying on the bloodied sheets. The only thing that perhaps gave him the slightest hint to time’s passing was the way he could feel the blood on his chest and hands grow drier as the night morphed into the day.

As the first rays of light poked from behind the thick curtain of the doctor’s room, Dazai sat by his bed, right next to you, silent and outwardly calm, although dazed in the raging storm inside his heart.

Perhaps this was what Destiny itself had decided for him. Perhaps it was wrong of him to blame casualty instead of himself. His old, stupid self, who hadn’t learnt a single thing from past mistakes. But as his fellow vampire’s warm hand came to rest on his shoulder, Dazai decided to delay all judgment about his negligence until the Gods determined your fate.

Arthur

Staring at the familiar handwriting, Arthur felt his whole body grow numb, as if someone had thrown him in the darkest depths of the ocean, leaving him to suffocate under the overwhelming weight of the waters above.

He had noticed the worsening of your symptoms, but he had never imagined you'd go to these lengths. He had gravely underestimated your condition, and he could already hear the old ghosts of his past laughing at him, pointing their fingers while mocking him. But now, he had no time to worry about his own lack of foresight; his priority was getting to you in time, so that all could be fixed, hopefully.

Scanning the writing on your tear-stained note, his brain started listing all the possible places where you could've gone with a speed that would leave speechless even Sherlock Holmes himself. The writing was hurried and scrambled, meaning that it was a sudden decision. The city was too far away and bustling with people that could interfere, so it was an unlikely location. As he was running around the mansion in search of you, he passed in front of the terrace on the last floor; there, he saw your clothes swirling in the wind, and your figure standing on the stone railing.

He almost crashed against the glass door as he launched himself forward with extreme speed. You were there, looking down and slightly trembling. You were scared, as it was normal, but if death frightened you so, then what pain would be so strong to push you in its embrace? To drive you away from his warm arms and into the eternal darkness? Was such a painful experience worth the possible relief?

"MC!!!" Arthur shouted out of instinct with his whole lungs, like a volcano erupting in all its fury. A few steps later and you were falling backwards, your back colliding with his chest as he harshly pulled you to him. It all happened so fast that you didn't even have the time to turn your head and look at him. Now that you were on the ground, safely locked in his embrace, everything slowly sank in.

His voice came out choked and trembling. "W-what were you thinking-?!" He was trying so hard to hold everything back; the tears, the sobs, the anger in his voice. He was angry at himself, and you were not the target of his resentment, but he realized that it could be easily misunderstood by someone in your situation. Taking a deep breath and turning you around, he stared deeply into your pained eyes, softening his iron-like grip on your forearms.

His voice now steadier yet gentle with affection and worry added:"Love, I'm sorry for not noticing all of this sooner. I'm sorry for not helping you enough. Still, I want to be of some use to you, I want to be there for you.” A sharp breath interrupted his speech, maybe from him, you or perhaps both of you. “…So please, please rely on me; whenever you feel like you can't do it anymore, whenever you feel like you have enough of life, give me the chance to help you."

Seconds later, you burst into tears, sobbing confused "I'm sorry"s in the crook of his neck. Arthur slowly caressed your hair soothingly, as his heart continued to painfully hammer against his chest. He knew this was not going to be an easy nor a short journey; it was going to take time, and it would be hard, but he wouldn't give up on you no matter what. Through thick and thin, the way you did for him, he was going to support you the whole way.

"I love you more than anything in the world, MC." he added at last, hugging you tightly.

Leonardo

The deafening sound of crickets did not reach the man’s ears. He couldn’t hear anything but the fast pumping of his own blood in his veins. A heartbeat that had never and would never stop; stronger than anyone else’s, but also alone. The sound of his heart was utterly lonely, the only one under the white gazebo, now shrouded in the darkness of the night.

How much he would give not to hear it anymore, to put an end to it right then and there. But he couldn’t. And as Fate loved torturing him endlessly, he was now once more deprived of a person he loved. But this time was different than the countless others before. He thought he had gotten used to the company offered by Death herself, and it had been long ever since tears burned within his eyes, as if made of fire.

Between his arms laid a lifeless body, utterly still and deprived of any warmth. It seemed like mere moments had passed when Leonardo was contentedly caressing your hair as a tired yet relaxed sigh fell from a pair crimson lips, which whispered some loving words before blooming into a smile. Now, they were pale and slightly agape, a cold frown sculpted onto the body’s face. Perhaps he had gotten so used to the passage of time that he did not pay it more mind. Perhaps all his memories took place too long ago, and perhaps things had changed considerably from those happy moments you shared.

Leonardo’s expression subconsciously mimicked your own, one that would remain in his mind for who knows how long, and he did not dare to move away, sitting there with you for the very last moments of his eternally long life. He tried not to think about the way his heart lurched in his chest like a ship at sea during a storm when he found your note. Your handwriting, calm and precise as if it was a decision you had made long ago; where was his mind wandering off to while you were deciding to seal your own fate?

Silently strangling all those whirling thoughts in his head until they died down, leaving him in a deathly silence, he lovingly bid you farewell with a final kiss to your lips.

“Hopefully, we’ll meet in another life.”

“Next time, I won’t let this happen again”

Suffering was human, but he had learnt all too well how contagious pain could be. And yet, he now found himself isolated in his grievance, for you weren’t with him anymore.

[qqueenofhades]

Are you still taking prompts? We are thirsty and were hoping for “bite me” in a fivan vampire au. Pretty please? What’s that you say? That’s not on the list you shared? Um, oops? I said we are thirsty! 🤤

Ahaha, okay, I think this is going to do it for the prompts for now. I want to get back to working on PEL, and I have (mostly) given the people what they want. But before you hasten to my inbox to request more of this (which I know the Very Hungry Lot of you will do, and I love you so much for it): do know that this is indeed related to a larger project and this is just the first bit of it.

What is that project? Shh. I am not telling you just yet. It's a secret.

Belgrade, Kingdom of Serbia

June 1896

The summer evening is warm and purple, lit atmospherically by both the older gaslamps and the newfangled electric lights (there is a Serb in New York, a man by the name of Tesla, whose great scientific inventions and experiments with alternating current may soon illuminate the entire world), and the well-dressed crowd flows toward the café in a tide of rustling satin, silk, and velvet, ladies in evening dress and men in top hats and monocles. The establishment is the Golden Cross, in Terazije, a bustling neighborhood just south of Stari Grad, and the attraction is an exhibition of the marvelous moving pictures of the Lumière brothers – the first such show in the Balkans, and indeed outside of Paris, after they were first premiered in great triumph six months ago. Or at least, so it is for most of the attendees tonight. Fedyor Mikhailovich Kaminsky has a different task.

He stands apart from the milling throngs, well dressed in a high-collared coat and silken cravat, dark hair parted ruler-straight and face freshly shaven, a old golden watch tucked in his breast pocket and his shoes polished to a perfect sheen. While the people hurry past almost close enough to jostle him, they have a peculiar difficulty in registering that he is there. They sense something, yes – a cold breath on the back of the neck, a prey animal’s inborn reflex to warily search the shadows – but it never quite clicks. They continue on their way without being troubled in their own sense of reality, or ever realizing who – what – is standing there with them. It is just one of the odd, disjointed experiences that Fedyor has had to come to terms with, in the twenty-two years since he became a vampire.

By habit, he checks the horizon. These summer days are late and long, and Fedyor is still young enough that he can’t tolerate more than a few minutes of sunlight. It has taken years to be able to go out by day at all, half-thinking he had dreamed the waking world, become wholly one with the shadows and the night. When he emerged in the last gasps of afternoon, when he felt the golden warmth on his face for the first time in almost two decades, he wept. It still causes him vestigial pain, but not as much. Not so much that it cannot be borne.

He pulls the slip of paper out of his pocket and checks the name again. Then he puts it back and slips smoothly into the crowd. At the threshold, he feels that faint, telltale twinge, the knowledge of entering another creature’s territory without being explicitly bidden to do so. The Golden Cross belongs to the vampire king of Belgrade, who is rumored to be five hundred years old and a veteran of the Battle of Kosovo in 1389 (which, so far as Fedyor can tell, the Serbs have never gotten over losing to the Turks) and Fedyor is not interested in pissing him off. But therefore it is, by Conclave law, a place where all vampires in the city can freely congregate, so long as they haven’t committed some terrible crime. It also means that Fedyor may find the man he is looking for in here, and not have to cross into enemy turf.

A rich reek of wine and brandy, of hand-cranked ice cream in cut-glass bowls, of ladies’ perfume and men’s cologne, of sweat and starch and thrumming hot blood, rises into Fedyor’s nose as he inhales, as his senses have been honed a hundred times more acutely than what he was previously used to. He searches the crowded room, on high alert for another supernatural. Nothing, at least not thus far. But it is a delicate and fiddly bit of bloodsucker diplomacy for which he is here tonight, having to do with the rumor that a local group of creatures have formed a shadowy secret society called Црна рука, the Black Hand, with the aim of expressly interfering in human politics. This, of course, is strictly against the rules, and they need to be reminded of that fact. Fedyor would very much prefer not to fight an anarchist rebel vampire in the middle of a café crowded with oblivious humans, but the thought crosses his mind that this is an excellent soft target. The eyes of the entire city, the Balkans, the international art community, are fixed on this place tonight. If something went wrong – if the Golden Cross and all the souls within it were blown to smithereens –

Fedyor orders a drink at the bar – he has been promised that one day he will again also be able to eat human food if he craves the taste, but it will not nourish him – and sits down near the back, keeping a sharp eye out. Andre Carr, the Frenchman who has traveled from Lyon as the Lumière brothers’ representative, is setting up the unwieldy projector and barking at his assistants to be careful with the fragile, bulky spools of film, his mustache bristling in agitation. Fedyor gauges the mood of the crowd, the din of their heartbeats, their eager interest, their whispered gossip. Still no other supernaturals that he can sense, but that doesn’t mean that they’re not here. The vampire king and his underlings will have plenty of ways to conceal themselves from a relative child like Fedyor. As will the Black Hand.

He leans back in his chair and samples the whisky. Not bad, he thinks, though it’s been a long time since he drank human libations. It’s nice to be out among regular people, but he always has to keep strict watch on the part of himself that yearns to feed, that wants them to run, to fear, to fall. Fedyor has been a vampire long enough to control the hunger, to drink mostly from animals and space out his feeds on humans, to ask them for their consent or pay them for their trouble, but it’s still a struggle. He understands the urge that drives vampires to sequester themselves, to only live among their own kind, to keep drones and other willing human servants to feed from, so that you are not put to the trouble of chasing down a stranger and politely asking to bite them in the neck every fortnight or so, don’t get mixed up as to whether the mortals are your dinner company or just your dinner. It is a deuced bloody bother of a business. Fedyor always feels like an idiot whenever he tries.

Carr and his minions sort out their difficulties, and eventually the lights go down, provoking another eager murmur. Fedyor is not immune to the lure of whatever they are about to see, and he could have done much worse for a new home. He arrived here six years ago from his hometown in Russia, once his lack of aging became too difficult to conceal from his friends and family. Belle epoque Belgrade is a cosmopolitan, cultured world of stately opera houses and marble palaces, grand balls and gaslights, synagogues and streetcars, mosques and museums, bohemians and bordellos and broad balconies, telegraph wires and trolley cars and twisting lanes, churches and coffee shops in the Viennese style, with white-aproned waiters and colored mosaics and demitasse cups of Italian espresso. It is an ancient city, placed in a lethally strategic location at the confluence of two rivers, fought over in almost a hundred wars and razed almost forty times (and doubtless there are still more unmakings yet to come). Fedyor has found a place among the vampire community here, enough that he is trusted to deal with the Black Hand, despite his immortal youth. As to how that will go, well…

He watches the film with half an eye, impressed by the moving pictures just like his human counterparts, and then he feels it. The coldness on the back of his neck, the chirp of a sixth sense, the unshakeable awareness that he is being observed by a fellow bloodsucker. Though that term is considered somewhat dated and passé these days, mildly offensive. Vampires are eager as humans to participate in the scientific and industrial revolution, to concoct more enlightened regulations for themselves, to create an academic literature for their origins. There is talk among the sophisticated supernatural set of organizing an Academy for Preternatural Science, to hire vampire scholars, to establish a university. It’s a nice thought, if somewhat too ambitious (or so Fedyor thinks) for a race of beings that has only just decided that solving every problem with blood feuds to the death might not be the best idea. He wonders if one of those unreconstructed barbarians is behind him now.

Slowly, smoothly, so as to demonstrate that he is perfectly aware of being hunted, Fedyor turns around, and catches sight of the newcomer across the way. He is handsome – but then again, most vampires are, as it’s one of the benefits of the transformation. This one, however, is possessed of a roguish, rough-hewn attractiveness that seems genuine, still close to the face he wore as a mortal man, and not the eerie, glossy, imperturbable beauty that Fedyor sometimes finds so off-putting about his compatriots. This vampire is also wearing good clothes, and his overcoat is dark red, embroidered with curling black patterns. He looks at Fedyor, their eyes meet, and he nods once, half an inch. Game on.

Fedyor does his best to sit still until the lights come up, and the crowd claps rapturously and disperses to fetch more drinks and gush about the performance. Then he gets up and drifts toward a velvet curtain, slipping unobtrusively behind it. Back here, it is dark, dusty, and smells of candlewax and grease paint, the remnants of another performance, a conjurer’s closet. He steadies himself, turns around, and –

“Good evening,” the voice says, cold and curt. “I believe you were waiting to speak to me.”

“Yes.” Fedyor does his best to smile and appear charming and in command of the situation. “My name is Fedyor Kaminsky, and I am a representative of the Conclave. They have sent me here tonight in hopes of locating Ivan Sakharov, of the Black Hand. Is that you?”

The other vampire regards him flatly. His eyes are brown, as is his hair, which is cropped military-short and kept as sharp as his face. When he folds his arms, his muscles bulge, even through the sleeves of the well-tailored coat. “And if I was?”

“Then,” Fedyor says, “I am authorized by that same Conclave to deliver a warning to you and your associates that your current activities fall outside the bounds of the common supernatural law, and if you persist in pursuing them, there will be consequences.”

The other – well, he hasn’t denied it, so this must indeed be Ivan Sakharov – looks back at him with an utterly unimpressed expression. “Oh, so the Conclave found a new stooge to do their bidding? You’re a bit younger and fresher than the usual corpses those desiccated old tightwads usually send out after us, I’ll give you that. How long have you been in Belgrade?”

“How long have you?” Fedyor is almost sure he recognizes Ivan’s accent; they’re speaking Serbo-Croatian, but in both cases with a familiar cadence. “You’re Russian, aren’t you?”

That catches the other vampire by surprise. He hisses, baring a pair of white and very sharp fangs, and his eyes go briefly black. “You think so?”

“Yes,” Fedyor says. “But older than me, I think. Possibly quite a bit, though by how much, I can’t be sure. If we were to – ” he switches languages smoothly, in midsentence – “continue this conversation in Russian, would that be more to your liking?”

Ivan Sakharov eyes him icily. He must know that if he speaks their native tongue, he risks giving away his age by the style of his grammar, or perhaps his place of birth, and that is dangerous information for an unknown quantity to hold over you. There is a whiff of the emperor’s court around him, or perhaps the empress – does he hail from Catherine the Great’s day, Fedyor wonders, or earlier? There’s a long, crackling pause. Then Ivan says in brittle, too-correct English, “Or perhaps we should converse like this?”

Fedyor inclines his head, accepting that he has – for now – been outmaneuvered. They still haven’t taken their eyes off each other, standing close together in the dim velvet-draped shadows, near enough that if they were human, they would feel the other’s heat. There’s nothing but the faint wintry chill of unliving flesh, though a certain hunger rises unbidden in Fedyor’s stomach nonetheless. Then he says, “This does not have to be difficult. Cease your lawlessness and tell your friends to do the same.”

Ivan takes another step, close enough that their noses almost brush. “The Conclave has no power over me, Fedyor Kaminsky.”

“Do you want to test that?” Fedyor breathes, struggling to keep his focus at the other vampire’s threatening-but-thrilling nearness, the way his blood is singing under his skin in an entirely different way than he expected or frankly, that he wants. Just because Ivan Sakharov is annoyingly attractive (and also Russian) does not mean that he is not a dangerous, war-mongering, secret-cabal-plotting megalomaniac, and Fedyor does not need that sort of nonsense in his life. “If you did, I would, of course, be authorized to place you under arrest.”

Ivan looks at him goadingly. “I would like to see you try.”

Oh, so he is indeed one of those immortals (read: the kind who really need to experience mortality just to be kicked very hard in the balls). Fedyor struggles to contain his irritation. If he shows that this handsome bastard has gotten to him, this will only get worse. “If you promise to desist,” he says, “the Conclave will drop this matter and consider it closed. You and the rest of the Black Hand will not be subject to further investigation. That, or – ”

“How do I know that you are even from the Conclave? That you are who you say?”

“Why would I lie about it?”

Ivan shrugs. “I want proof.”

Fedyor grits his fangs. “What do you expect? A badge?”

“No. But I will accept your blood.”

That catches Fedyor off guard. Not that it should, necessarily. Since vampires can sense the thoughts and feelings of the creature that they’re feeding on, it’s a quick and time-tested way to prove that there is no funny business going on (or at least, no business that is funny beyond the usual). The obvious difficulty, however, is that it requires a possibly unfriendly rival to bite your neck or at the very least, your wrist, and one can understand why there would be a natural hesitation to yield one’s neck (Fedyor happens to be rather fond of his) to the clutches of the likes of Ivan Sakharov. But if he says no, he looks like he is weak or that he has something to hide, that he doesn’t trust Ivan or regard him as an equal, and the already-febrile situation with the Black Hand will only get worse. As bluffs go, Fedyor could call this one. But it would be very risky, and if it blows up in his face…

“Very well,” Fedyor says, chillingly correct. He pulls aside the collar of his evening coat and tilts his head, exposing the side of his throat. “Test me all you like.”

Ivan looks at him with something that makes that thing in Fedyor’s stomach rise up again, hot as an ember left burning in a brazier even when all the other lights go out. He hasn’t been warmed like this, not even by the sun, ever since he was turned in 1874 by a vampire named Dmitri Karamazov. He does his utmost to force it down. If Ivan bites him and senses that –

There’s a final pause, soft as tissue paper, fine as crystal. Then Ivan steps forward, looking almost impressed, as if he expected Fedyor to find some reason to back out. He flexes his jaw, bringing out those two impressively white and sharp fangs again, and reaches out, gripping Fedyor’s waist with his big hands and drawing him somewhat closer than is strictly necessary. Then he whispers, “As you wish, Conclave whore,” and bites.

He’s not entirely gentle about it, not that vampires usually are and not that Fedyor wasn’t expecting it. But all at once, as Ivan sucks at him, his mouth pressed hungrily to Fedyor’s neck, wet and raw and savage, Fedyor goes weak in the knees. He’s been fed on before, tested before, and this is different from any of those. He utters a mewling noise of need that he is shocked and deeply outraged to hear from himself, pressing still closer, knocking Ivan a few steps backward into the wall. His hands come up, seeking purchase on the other’s broad shoulders, a smoky curl of desire rising through him like rich incense. “Mmm,” he mutters. “Mmmgh. Yes. Like that. Yes.”

Ivan doesn’t answer for obvious reasons, since his mouth is otherwise occupied, but Fedyor can feel the little frisson of pleasure that travels through him at those words. That takes him aback. Not that he should rush to generalize, since most vampires are fairly flexible in their intimate preferences (you don’t live that long without wanting to sample everything that is on offer, carnally speaking) but for some reason, he just assumed that this tough, frightening, hard-as-nails secret anarchist supernatural idiot wouldn’t be inclined to gentlemen. Not that Fedyor is necessarily objecting. This feels far better than it has any right to do, considering that it started out as a naked challenge to his veracity. Agh, fuck, he should not think about naked. That makes the arousal burn even more hungrily, as he arches his back and presses himself wantonly against Ivan and knows that he’s hard as a rock and that this utter menace can definitely feel it. Ivan is in no hurry to pull away. He drinks for a few more seconds, past when there can be any reasonable doubt that Fedyor is telling the truth, and then slowly, deliberately breaks contact, fangs still half in Fedyor’s throat, as he withdraws with luxurious leisure. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and growls, “Ah.”

“Yes, ah,” Fedyor says, trying not to stammer, as pulses of hot and cold rush through him from head to toe. “Are you satisfied?”

Ivan gives him a wicked smile, drops of Fedyor’s blood still glistening heart-scarlet on his lips. “Maybe.”

God almighty, kill me now. Difficult, of course, when one is – strictly speaking – already deceased. (And now deceased in a different way, which makes it two kinds of dead at once, which makes Fedyor a prodigy.) He wants to ask if Ivan will perform the customary service of licking the bite wounds closed, but he’s also afraid that he may physically incinerate if Ivan does so, and since fire is rather famously one of the only things that can harm vampires, it is better not to take the risk. Instead, Fedyor pulls out his handkerchief and dabs at his throat, with as much casualness as he can muster. “Well,” he says. “You’ve had my word, Ivan Sakharov. Will you give me yours that you will bring your illegal organization to an end and return to the rule of Conclave law?”

Ivan looks him up and down, eyes lingering on the too-tight fit of Fedyor’s pinstriped trousers. Then he leans in, so close that Fedyor truly does think they’re about to kiss and momentarily blacks out, and whispers against the shell of his ear, “Absolutely not.”

And with that, and no more than a rush of air, he is gone.