#i can give you one teeny tiny hint about this

[tojiscrack]

OH MY GOSH. WHAT IF YUUJI.... BECOMES A POTENTIAL LOVE INTEREST IN LIAR LIAR.......... CUS I REMEMEBER SMTHING AB A LOVE TIRANGLE(???) UNLESS IM HORRIBLY MISTAKEN BC I HAVE BAD MEMORY.. BUT... LIKE ITS COMPLETLEY POSSIBLE PLUS THE HEAVY ANGST FACTOR???? IM HAVING A CRISIS THINKING ABT THIS RNN 😭😭😭

liar, liar masterlist here:

oh? 👀

i like this prediction 😇

you’re right about a love triangle, i did mention that before. it’s not exactly a triangle tho, y’know? it’s a different shape. a weird one 😀

i know people tend to hate the love triangle trope (as do i, ‘cause in books/movies/tv shows, they’re all terrible) but i think i can do it justice. like, you’ll want to rip ur hair out of ur head for all the right reasons :)

i love how i have everyone running around like headless chickens with just ONE tag 😭😭

[bunni-v1]

Hnnghh christmas Lighter smut where reader is dressed in nothing but a long ribbon and bow bc he’s been a good boy this year

🍓Did u read my mind? Get outta there… jkjk, but seriously this is EXACLTY what I was thinking about. I really can’t dedicate the time to a full fic, which breaks my little gay heart, but imagine with me if you would… (this is a full fic btw i fucking lied to you and myself)

Tw: Nsfw; kinda rough (not too rough); UNEDITED ITS HORRENDOUS

Mdni

Christmas with the Sons of Calydon is pretty atypical. They have their own traditions that most New Eirduians would scoff at, but they’re rather important to those who live in these parts. Drinking, singing together (usually drunkenly and offkey), taking bike rides out to start a fire and literally burn away past regrets of the year, and of course fights — plenty of fights.

You weren’t exactly a fan of the fighting part, usually meant more work for you to do, but Lighter always seemed to have fun. Obviously he did, he never lost — he hardly broke a sweat for the most part. And he loved showing off, especially if you were there to watch him. Everything else was mostly normal, though… a little odd but custom made to your little ragtag group, and you loved it.

It felt warm, cozy, like family. They passed out gifts, most of them hand made or incredibly thoughtful since money was scarce for most of you. Lighter had gotten you a (rather expensive) bracelet with your and his initials engraved on it. It was sweet, and unexpected from the guy who pretended like the holiday was nothing for the months leading up to it.

It made you melt on the inside and feel nice and warm. However… his nonchalance about the holiday cause you one… teeny tiny, itty bitty problem. You had no clue what to get him, and you hadn’t gotten him anything — time had run out and no one would give you any good hints.

His insistence that you didn’t need to get him anything in return made your stomach ache. It was hard to focus on his fight when your head was rushing with ways to rectify the horrific mistake you’d made quickly. The red ribbon of the jewelry box wrapped around your fingers tightly, then unwound as you mulled over your options.

You could get him something for his bike, but you’d have to drive to the city and it’s unlikely he’d let you go without him — that’s if the stores were even open this late on a holiday. Maybe you could craft up something quick and easy, if you could get back to your place there surely would be something, but… that felt cheap. Especially compared to the bracelet.

“That ribbon’s pretty,” Caesar says next to you, drawing you from your thoughts, “Must’ve been one real fancy place he went to for ya.”

You sigh, leaning back against the wall a little, looking at the ribbon as you twisted it around, “I’m sure it was. He’s so hopeless sometimes.”

“Only because you’re so sweet on him,” She teases, nudging your shoulder lightly.

A laugh huffs out of your chest, then an idea strikes you. The ribbon is pretty. You actually had some like it back at your place, stored away from last years festivities. You twist the ribbon one last time, and then you grin, wide and wild. Lighter catches your eye as he socks his opponent in the jaw, smirking at you like he’d won a prize.

“Hey, Caesar,” You hum, turning to your friend who seemed a little uneasy at your expression, “How long do you think you can keep him distracted for me.”

She hums, watching him thoughtfully, “I’ll buy ya fifteen minutes — wait, why?”

“You’ll hear later~” You hum with a wink, and practically skip back to your place, leaving Caesar alone to deal with your very adrenaline filled boyfriend on her own.

It takes you half the time Caesar said she could get you to find the damn ribbon, and the other half is spent fighting for your life to get the thing on and look at least a little sexy. You tried to recall old articles you’d read on bondage and shibari, but it was hard to do without a guide. You’d managed to get all the good bits wrapped up and hidden, with a few extra crosses to make it look pretty.

You don’t get a chance to check because you hear Lighters heavy footsteps outside the door nearly as soon as you’ve tied the bow comfortably around your neck. Your able to sort’ve arrange yourself seductively on the bed for him just as the front door open and he calls out to you. You could tell he was annoyed from his voice alone. He never liked it when you left his shows early.

“Caesar told me you headed back here,” He called, boots thumping as he threw them off, “We’re you not enjoying the show?”

It’s a tease, you know it is, but there was an underlying annoyance in his voice that sent a tingle up your spine. He pushes the bedroom door open incredibly slowly, to the point you think he’s trying to surprise you with something. You have the gall to feel stupid for a moment right before his eyes land on you, and he stops at he takes in the sight.

There is an audible shudder as his eyebrows raise nearly to his hairline. He takes his sunglasses off, revealing those pretty green eyes that rake in every inch of you with hunger. Then, he smirks, shoving the bedroom door closed with his shoulder already working his gloves and jacket off to the floor. Forgotten without a second thought. The rest of his clothes follow quickly after.

“Merry Christmas!” You cheer, though you’re more nervous than happy. He clearly likes it, according to the quickly growing tent in his pants and how fast he is to strip himself, but he’s a little too quiet for your liking.

He sinks onto the mattress in front of you, hands ghosting around the bright red ribbon. Like if he touches it, it’ll all fall apart in his grasp. He traces each inch of it with careful practiced restraint, following the fabrics flow across your body until he remembers that you are under the fabric and he lands on your face.

His eyes soften when you smile nervously up at him, fingers tracing the apple of your cheek with such admiration it nearly makes you cry. “You like it?” You ask softly, unsure of yourself.

He scoffs like you’re stupid for wondering, “This might be the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

It draws a genuine laugh out of you, which he follows with his own as he comes down to nuzzle your cheek with his nose. Then a soft kiss that trails down to your lips, easing you into a slow careful dance of love and passion.

He readjusts your position so carefully, you almost don’t notice he’s doing it until he’s between your legs. Pressing them open then pressing his dick to the ribbons wrapping up your folds from him. You’re already dripping, the adrenaline from earlier enough to get you going, but the added friction just makes it worse. You’d never be able to reuse this stuff, that’s for sure.

His hands glide over your stomach, following the ribbon with lazy easy until he’s found the one covering you from him. His thumbs slide under the pieces, rubbing over the flesh of your abdomen gently. It’s then that he pulls away, a string of saliva keeping you connected as he presses his forehead to yours.

“You’re so perfect, you know that?” He murmurs quietly, “You could’ve given me a smile and I would’ve been happy.”

You shy away, “Well… I almost didn’t have anything to get you, but your gift, mmm, inspired me.”

He chuckles at you, reaching down to run his dick against your still covered folds. The silky fabric oddly making everything feel more intense. “I can see that. Very cute, by the way.”

“I know, thank you,” You hum, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as he presses the two of you back into a laying position, “Now are you gonna unwrap your present, or are you gonna keep teasing yourself.”

A roll of the eyes and another smirk, “Y’know, I’ve never been a fan of ruining the wrapping paper. Shits expensive… so how about we go nice and slow.”

As he says that, he slides his dick between the ribbon, right up against your throbbing clit. You let out a surprised sound, quickly melting into sighs of pleasure and he fucks into the ribbon. Each push and pull stimulates your aching pussy into gushing out more for him, clenching on nothing as he fucks himself against you at a leisurely pace.

You take the chance to look down, moaning out as he head of him touches your thigh. The sight is something you’d see in a porno. Lighter follows your eyes, smiling to himself when he catches you practically going cross eyed at the sight.

“We look good together, don’t we, sugar?” He purrs. A rare nickname, sweet and extra praiseworthy — just like he thinks you are.

You nod along with him, fluttering your eyes back to his with a dumb little smile. Each drag of his dick makes your toes curl and nails dig into his broad shoulders. He sighs at the sensation, pressing kisses into your skin to quiet himself up. He’d rather listen to you, after all, and this was a gift for him.

His fingers begin to crawl up your body, dancing along the ribbon excitedly. They make sure to stop and tweak your nipples through the fabric, humming when he feels they’re sufficiently hard and sensitive under his touch. Then, finally, they reach the neatly tied bow around your neck.

The tug at it, gently unwrapping it from your neck and pulling it away with ease. Replacing the red of it with his tongue, licking and sucking new marks into the flesh. Your hips stutter against his, and he lets out a groan, squeezing your tit as warning. You whine, but don’t fight him anymore. His hands returning to unraveling the ribbon, pressing into the skin revealed until he is the only thing keeping the ribbon and his dick pressed against you.

You pout a little when he pulls away, pussy aching for friction once his dick is gone. You feel it clench as it looks for him, and god it makes you feel like a whore. He takes your hands from his shoulder and leans over you to tie them to the bed board above your head. You can feel how wet your were at the wrists, especially when he kisses them reassuringly.

“I love you tied up,” He hums, “You’re so pretty when you can’t do anything.”

You pout up at him, but he doesn’t stay to admire the look long, leaning over to the bedside table to grab the condoms. It occurs to you, in a state of lust driven stupor, that he shouldn’t have to fuck his christmas gift with a condom on.

“Ah, wait—“ He raises an eyebrow at you, hand just inches away from the condoms, “Would you wanna do it raw?”

He blinks at you, again surprised in the same way he was when he first saw you. “Are you serious?”

“We don’t have to—“ You quickly try to rectify the situation, but he cuts you off.

“No, no, we definitely have to,” He shakes his head, closing the drawer with one swift motion, “You’re trying to kill me out here, aren’t you?”

You shake your head, but he’s not listening as he pulls you up into the position he likes most. Legs over his shoulders, body bent in half so he can fuck you hard and fast. He gives you a few seconds to adjust to the position, then he’s pressing his dick into you at a painfully slow pace.

It’s because he’s just so big, he always has to go slow, but you wish he’d just fuck you through the pain right now. The stretch is perfect as always, and you suck him in like it’s nothing with how wet you already were.

He cusses when he finally bottoms out, pressing his face into the side of your neck. You can feel his hot breath fan against your skin, tingling deliciously. “Fuck you’re always so tight. I’m never gonna get used to it, sugar.”

You hum, though you’re in no better shape. Shivering and shuddering every inch, and still quaking as he sits still inside you. You play with his hair to distract from how hot you are, and how you wish he’d make you hotter.

He gives himself a moment to calm down, then he presses a kiss you your cheek, readjusts you just a little so your muscles don’t tense up, and then he moves. The first three thrusts are slow and easy, then he starts to slam into you hard.

“Oh fuck—“ You cry out as the deafening smack of his hips into your ass rings out across the room.

The pace he sets is brutal and unrelenting, you were hoping for it all night. The unspent adrenaline from his earlier fights coming right back to fuck you so good you know you won’t be walking tomorrow. Each slap of his balls against your quickly reddening ass is accompanied by a stifled moan.

He watches you with an intensity you weren’t aware he was capable of, eyes drinking in every single inch of your expression. He looked crazed, but that’s what made it so hot. He was obsessed with every little look, every little sound that left you.

“Don’t be quiet, sugar,” He hums, pushing two of his fingers along your bottom row of teeth to force the sounds out.

“They’ll hear—“

“Let ‘em,” He dismisses, “They know you’re mine anyway, who cares.”

You really couldn’t argue with that, especially not when he shifts ever so slight to hit your g-spot head on. A salacious moan rips out of your throat, and your sure Caesar has figured out what you were up to earlier from that alone. He doesn’t stop ripping sounds out of you, though, continuing his brutal pace and hitting that spot so well you think you’re seeing stars.

The build up to your orgasm is so quick you hardly have time to realize it’s happening. One second you’re fine the next your throwing your head back and moaning like a whore.

“Lighter- Baby, I’m— fuck me- god I’m gonna cum, Lighter.” You admit, way too loud for your liking.

He hums, seeming to switch gears and fuck you faster somehow, “Go ahead, I’ve got you. Lemme feel you cum for me.”

You nod, chest rising and falling rapidly as start litter your vision. You think you nearly pass out, but Lighters hard thrusts fuck you through your orgasm. You squeeze him so tight, like you’re trying to milk his own out of him. You want him to fill you up, want to feel his warm cum deep in your belly. Want to see it drip down your thighs and pool onto the bed when he pulls out.

“Cum inside, please.” You beg.

“Fuuuck… ‘re you—“

You nod, “I need it, please cum in me. ‘S part of your present.”

He groans, fisting the sheets next to your head, “Suagr, you’re fuckin’ killin’ me.”

Always one to please, Lighter does exactly as you ask. Filling you to the brim with his thick hot cum. You revel in his moans, and only slightly wish you could curl your nails into his shoulders to leave another christmas gift for the morning.

He eases you into a more comfortable position before collapsing on top of you. His weight is welcome against your spent body, as are the wet kisses he presses into your sore skin. He unties your hand with one of his, and you quickly wrap them up into his hair.

“I love you,” He mumbles into your shoulder, “So much. You’re the best gift a guy can ask for.”

You giggle at the praise, “I love you too, Lighter.”

[mochinomnoms]

How do you think the beast-people and the Octavinelle trio will react to a person who's love language is biting them ? (I just want your opinion on the question, have a good day)

I talk about it a little here and here with reader on the receiving end, but in regard to them on the giving…

Mating/pairing marks are fairly common amount beastmen, particularly the predators. The ones best known for their marks are wolf-beastmen, but almost any beastmen with sharp teeth are pleased with the idea of being bitten (aka: claimed) by their partner. So imagine Jack's surprise when you bring his hand, shyly laced with yours, up to your lips for a sweet kiss on his knuckles. Only to be startled, an uncharacteristically high-pitched yelp leaving his lips as you nipped at the tips of his fingers. Your loving gaze is cute, but not disarming in the least, as you take his fingers and teeth at them like a chew toy. It's with a deep, but pleased, flush and expression that Jack explains to you what biting insinuates between partners.

Ruggie, when you were teetering the line of friends and partners, liked to fluster you with soft, coy nips at your ears and neck, purring at your darken cheeks and shy glare. He was a shy flirt, hoping you'd get the hint and make the first move. Why it was such a spine tingling shock when you, at your wits end with him, decided to reciprocate with a bite into his cheek, he'll never know. Nowadays, Ruggie will happily let you drag him away to either of your rooms to cuddle and bite into his neck, leaving wet, red marks all over his neck and collar. Mr. Bucchi is on cloud nine, dazing off as you bicker with Leona at the door over who should most monopolize on Ruggie's precious time. Hint: it's almost always you, until Leona offers a pay bump in exchange that Ruggie finally gets the fuck up and do his Leona's chores.

Speaking of the lazy lion, Leona does so adore your bites. It's the one of the few PDA that he'll let you do, as it lets you two subtly mark you as each other's partners, but it's mostly because you get kinda pissy about it, and it's funny. You're not pissy about the biting itself, rather, you're massively annoyance that he's laughing at your attempts to mark him up as much as he can with his sharp canines. Your teeth are nowhere as sharp as his, yet you randomly decide to dig your teeth in his bicep and forearms, like Cheka when he was teething. The thought of it makes him bark in laughter, which only pushes you to gnaw on him further in spite, rather than affection. It becomes less funny when the thought of a mini-you with deep green eyes, teeny-tiny ears, and a flicking tail teething on his thumb flashes through his mind. Then he's abruptly yanking his arms back and telling you that he's going to take a nap by himself with a confused look and a thousand yard stare.

Between the Octavinelle trio, none of them have the same instinct to bite into their mate as the beastmen, though they know of some merfolk that do. No they, the twins especially, like to softly bite into your soft bits because such forms of affection signify the upmost trust in the deep. Likewise, only their family and closest loved ones can do the same, namely you. The twins are the most fond of your biting affections of the trio, particularly Floyd. He thinks it's soooooooo cute that you like to bite him! He can hardly feel a thing, your teeth are so dull and flat compared to his. You can't leave a matching mark like the one he's left in your thigh…it's still awfully cute that you'll meet his squeezes (soft just for you) with a bite to his chin. He's suddenly flooded with thoughts of shrimpys nomming on morays in the sea and is clenching tighter at your with coos and squeals of having a cute, personal cleaner shrimp. Happily, you'll meet his demands for more bites into his cheeks until his mood changes, and he decides he's bored and tired of letting you nom. Maybe he'll take a turn and nom on you instead!

Despite being more reserved, or pretends to at least, compared to his brother, Jade is also fond of wearing your bite marks around campus. He even dares to wear his pristine, neat uniform untied and unbuttoned, just so he can see your horrified expression as your classmates ask about where in the hell he got all those gnarly looking purple bruises hickies from. You refuse to leave any more marks on him after that, settling for soft nibbles on his cheeks and knuckles. That last for all of a week before Jade's giving you a (fake) teary-eyed pout, wondering why you aren't giving him affection anymore? No, he's not talking about kisses. No not hugs. Noooo not that either, get your mind out of the gutter, he's a respectable eel! No! Why aren't you biting him like you used to, all his bite marks have faded away and are barely visible now! He thought you loved him 😢. Jade only lets you bite him you know, because he trusts his sweet human… no one else other than his brother and parents get to bite him, and only you get the privilege to bite into such intimate parts. Don't you love him anymore? Oh! Woe is he who-oh? You'll bite him again? Yay~ Please do so right here, right at the base of his neck, he's verrry sensitive there, so please be gentle 😊.

Azul is oh so very tame compared to the eels, even compared to the other beastmen. Really, he doesn't get the appeal if he's being honest. The twins used to teeth on his arms when they were children as their baby teeth fell out to be replaced with their adult ones. He's tired of being a chew toy and taken to smacking the twins hard enough to bruise to prevent further chomps. Azul is, unfortunately, weak to you and your big pleading eyes, despite his protests and denial. He's quick, especially after a tiring day after classes and work to let you drag him into bed and curl into his side. He sighs in bliss as you press sweet peeks into his cheek, neck, and hair, up until he feels your teeth tug at his earlobe. A brief shiver and heat pooling in his stomach makes him gasp, before he huffs and rolls his eyes as he realizes that you've taken to just gently nibble on his ear. Azul grumbles, still happy though, as you affectionately pull at his ear, moving down to nip at his neck, then settling on gently biting on the softest part of his cheek. He supposes he can give you an exception, his sweet human. After all, you're so soft and sweet about it with him, no matter how drooly you get it's kinda cute, and he's greedy with all forms of your affection. Azul will let you, as long as you don't bite down too hard.

[chbvalentine]

laughter and smiles ᢉ𐭩

how the hoo boys make you smile (characters: percy , leo , jason , and frank )

a/n- it’s been a while since i read the books. don’t judge too hard.

when you’re having a rough day, percy is the first to notice. while most of the time he’s an oblivious bum, the slightest hint of a frown doesn’t go unnoticed by percy. instead of immediately prying, he’s sneaking of to the beach to prepare a cheesy date. rose petals will be scattered in a heart, with candles galore and a cozy blanket laid perfectly so you can cuddle and watch the sunset together. it looks like something straight out of a rom-com, and you couldn’t be happier. even though he sacrificed his dessert to the demeter children for the roses and promised to leave the apollo kids alone for the candles, it’s worth it to see your sickeningly sweet smile.

when you’re dating leo, there isn’t a moment you aren’t laughing till your stomach hurts. he’s always cracking a joke to make you smile, no matter how serious the situation is. you could be full on crying, and between his comforting words he’ll slip in a lighthearted quip that makes you giggle between sobs. if he isn’t throwing jokes around, he’s making you little trinkets out of scrap metal as gifts. flowers, hearts, and even a mini-festus sit on your nightstand, proudly displayed. they’re a reminder of how much your totally awesome boyfriend cares about you, so naturally, seeing them makes you smile.

jason is extremely good with kids, specifically your relatives. there’s a lot of things about him that make you smile, like his silly glasses or how much he cares, but nothing tops how he acts around kids. it started when you asked him to babysit a little demigod at camp, since you were busy and the baby was too young to be by themselves. when you came back, you saw him asleep in a rocking chair, the kid wrapped up in his arms, also snoozing. you weren’t hesitant to ask him to watch the child again a week later. when you returned this time, jason’s large frame was stuffed into tiny chair, sitting next to them. he had a pink feather boa around his neck, and was sipping out of a teeny tea cup, while the little girl did the same. the sight of his tall and masculine figure dressed elegantly in pink definitely made you grin ear to ear.

frank absolutely adores buying you endless amounts of stuffed animals. elephants, seals, weasels, and countless other creatures sit pretty on your sheets. he likes to surprise you with them, too. you’re having a bad day? boom. new manatee stuffed animal laying on your bed for when you go to sleep. he traveled outside of camp recently? boom. awesome new fluffy souvenir. they all sleep on the bed too, obviously. can’t have one feeling left out. frank loves the way your eyes light up and you start thinking of names the moment he gives you one.

[nikkento-writes]

Rub You the Right Way - Part 3

Part 1 | Part 2

Pairing: Choso x f!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Word Count: ~3.0k

cw: female reader, 2nd-person POV, explicit language, explicit sexual content, smut – cunnilingus, use of sex toys, cum eating, PIV sex (missionary), breeding and pregnancy kink

Summary: You and Choso are next-door neighbors who are very much smitten with one another. After a month of dirtying up third base as much as possible, the both of you are finally ready to hit it out of the park. 

Author’s Notes: Baseball euphemisms because why not LOL? Thank you for reading! I love these dorks so much! This is the final installment of this teeny tiny series, so thank you all so much for the love and support on this, it means the world to me! Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are not expected but always appreciated. Thanks for reading! Divider credit to @/fic-dumpster.

“Damn, that was good!” Yuji exclaims, licking off the last of the chicken katsu curry from the rim of the bowl. He leans back on one hand, rubbing his belly with the other, a loud belch escaping his mouth. “Oops, sorry,” he apologizes, only a little bit embarrassed.

You giggle, stacking his empty dish on top of the others, standing up to place it in the sink. “I’m so glad you liked it. I couldn’t have done it without your brother, though. He’s a really good teacher.” 

“See, I told you, didn’t I?” Yuji smirks, pleased with himself. 

“It’s not hard to make, especially with the boxed curry mix.” Choso’s voice is bashful, downplaying the praise from both you and his brother. Still, you can sense the tiniest hint of pride in there.

“He’s too modest.” You return to the table to sit next to him, nudging him playfully.

Yuji rolls his eyes. “I know! It’s so frustrating! Seriously, you’ve got to give yourself more credit, bro. You’re awesome.” The blush on Choso’s cheeks are adorably obvious now as he continues to wave off the compliments. 

“Yeah, you really are,” you reiterate, resting your hand on top of his thigh, squeezing him gently. With the table obscuring his view, Yuji can’t see this small gesture, nor does he notice the subtle way Choso reacts, flustered and slightly aroused. He’s been wanting to touch you all night, but not in front of his precious baby brother, who remains clueless to the extent of your relationship. Before you can pull away completely, not wanting to rattle him any further, he hooks his pinky with yours, his grip unyielding. You smile to yourself, the two of you linked together while you chat with Yuji about your plans the rest of the night, which consists of Choso teaching you how to make a lovely castella cake, amongst other not-so-innocent activities. For the sake of Yuji’s virtue, you decide to leave that part out. 

It's been over a month now that you and Choso started your relationship after that unfortunate package mix-up, which ended up not being unfortunate at all. By total accident, you unboxed his brand spanking new Cock Sucker 3000, and in a bizarre attempt to alleviate any awkwardness from the situation, you proceeded to use your own sex toy in front of him while he demonstrated his, resulting in the hottest night of your life. Two days following that, after another ridiculous misunderstanding, the both of you realized your feelings for one another and decided to give this a shot. 

You’ve learned so much about him, most importantly that he’s quite the fragile soul, often distrusting of strangers right off the bat. The last thing you want is for him to lose his trust in you, so taking it day-by-day, little-by-little, is what works the best for the both of you. The two of you have remained on third base when it comes to sex, which you’re not complaining about one bit, considering how voracious you’ve been with each other. You’re waiting for the right time to finally hit that home run, a grand slam at this rate. It could happen tonight, tomorrow, maybe even a few more months from now. All you know for certain is that you’re happy with Choso, and he’s happy with you. That’s all that matters.

However, you’d be lying to yourself if you said you weren’t fantasizing about it already. You can’t help yourself when you’re with him. In front of others, he’s usually more reserved, timid. Alone with you, his confidence unveils. His touches are assured all over your body, an expert at all the big and little ways to make you moan in pleasure. The range of expressions he’s willing to show you, from unabashedly needy to absolutely feral, make your body tingle just thinking about it. And that voice, sweet and soft when he’s coaxing you, then to that sexy, gruffy tone as he ravishes you, whether it’s with his fingers, his mouth, his firm grip on the vibrator. It’s no shock that you’ve imagined the perfect way he’d slide into you, filling you up to the brim with his massive cock. Hell, you’ve admitted it to each other several times already, how badly you both want it, how good it’d feel to be bounded together as one. You keep reminding yourself to be patient, because when it does happen, it will be well worth the wait. 

The three of you hang out a while longer until Yuji announces that he’s leaving to get ready for a party with his friends. Choso gives his brother a big hug, handing him a small bag of leftovers to take with him back to his university apartment. “Don’t party too hard this weekend,” he warns him sternly, sounding like a protective parent. “Behave yourself. Don’t make Fushiguro take care of you and Kugisaki again.” 

Yuji beams at him. “Megumi likes taking care of us! That’s his idea of fun!” He looks at you, a mischievous grin on his face. “You two behave yourselves too, alright? Don’t forget to use protection.” 

Shit. Okay, so maybe he does know.

Choso stiffens, an uncomfortable noise gurgling in his throat, clearly stunned by Yuji’s remark. You let out a loud and nervous laugh, desperately trying to play it cool, though you two idiots couldn’t make this any more obvious. “We’re just making castella cake, remember? We’re not having sex at all! Just some good clean fun here, nothing naughty! Right, Choso?” You’re so frazzled that you accidentally kick your boyfriend a tad too hard in the ankle, enough for him to yelp. “Right, Choso?!”

Sweat beads on your forehead while he bumbles incoherently now, failing to his explain your bizarre reactions to his younger brother, who just stands there, very pleased with himself. “Oh, I meant oven mitts,” Yuji smiles innocently, completely unfazed. “You know, for your hands.” He turns on his heel to see himself out while Choso continues to gape at him. “See you two lovebirds next week!” he calls out from over his shoulder, waving until he’s out of sight.

Choso unclenches to close the door while you bury your face in your palms, ashamed of yourself. “I can’t believe I just did that.”

He surrounds you in his sweet embrace, relaxed and actually laughing. “At least you said something. I just stood there like an idiot.”

You peer up at him, pouting at him. “You’re not an idiot, take it back.”

“I take it back,” he relents, giving you a kiss on the forehead. 

Nuzzling your nose to his, you mention, “I guess that was our way of telling him, right?”

“I had a hunch he already knew,” he responds. “Yuji’s no dummy. He was already telling me stuff a few weeks ago.”

“What did he say?”

“Well, he was the one who told me to be friends with you. He’s even the one who first suggested inviting you to our family dinners.”

Your heart swells in your chest. “Really?”

He nods, a kind smile on his face. “Yeah. Yuji is a sweet kid, so I figured he was just being polite. But maybe he sees you and me being…y’know.”  

You smirk, giddy to hear the rest of his sentence. “What?”

His voice is quiet, shy from the sudden vulnerability he’s displaying. “A good fit? I don’t know, what do you think?” Despite all that’s happened between the two of you within a month, Choso still has his doubts, his insecurities. The last relationship he had ended because he caught his ex cheating. From then on, he’s been reluctant to let his guard down and trust someone with his heart again. You don’t blame him for being so cautious when it comes to love, so you do everything in your power to validate his emotions, reassure him that you care for him just as much as he cares for you. 

You hold him close, your heart thumping at a rapid pace. “I think we’re a perfect fit.” 

He swallows down whatever nerves were tightening in his throat, relieved to hear you say it, even though he’s never doubted your true intentions. Hearing it in your voice, seeing it in your kind eyes gives him the strength to tear down all the walls he’s built around himself to let you in. Inching closer, voice still quiet, he asks, “Can we…?”

You don’t let him finish his thought as you lean forward to press your lips to his. His arms squeeze you in a tighter embrace, nearly lifting you off your feet as he kisses you passionately. Your mouths move seamlessly together, his hands gliding smoothly along your waist, yours gently caressing his face, proving that the two of you are the perfect fit indeed. There’s dishes in the sink waiting to be washed, a castella cake waiting to be baked, but who are you kidding? This is what you need right now, to have Choso’s body on yours, to taste him, to devour him, completely lose yourself in him. And that’s exactly what he needs too. 

The two of you make your way inside his bedroom, not letting the other go for even a second, kisses sloppy now, all tongue and spit. He’s quick to undress you, palms moving evenly beneath your blouse. You stretch your arms up, letting him remove it completely, his eyes fixated on your breasts, still covered by your bra. He squeezes at them, his grip firm, thumbs brushing across your nipples. Desperate to feel him without this extra layer of clothing, you turn around, wanting him to unhook the clasp, which he does. His lips graze you, peppering soft kisses along your shoulder while he pinches at your nipples with the perfect amount of pressure to have you moaning. “You love it when I play with your tits like this,” he whispers, mouth hot on your ear. It isn’t a question; he says it with confidence, bordering on cockiness with the way he smirks at every little whine that escapes you. You love this switch from shy and sweet to bold and unashamed, always eager to fulfill his sexual appetite for you. 

“I do,” you answer breathlessly, his cock hard and throbbing between your ass cheeks as you grind against him. “You know I do, baby.”

“Fuck, I love it when you call me that,” he groans, sucking on your ear lobe. One hand travels past your navel, tugging at your waistband. 

Your crane your neck to meet his lips. “You’re my baby. You’re all mine, Choso.”

He moans into your mouth, lapping at your tongue. “Yeah, I’m yours. I’m all yours.”

You slide out of your pants, leaving your panties on, the silk ones he adores on you. On the bed, you lie on your back, watching him strip the rest of his clothes off while he towers over you, licking his lips when he positions in his head between your spread legs. He’s been indulging in this recently, eating you out through your panties, getting them soaking wet with his spit and your slick. His gaze meets yours, those typically kind eyes hiding something feral brewing inside him. He’s masterful with his tongue, spreading it wide on your clit, puckering his lips around you until you’re squirming. You grab hold of his head, grasping strands of his soft hair as he devours you. 

As if this wasn’t enough for him, he hums into your skin, pointing at the bedside drawer. He doesn’t have to say it; you already know what he wants. You’ve made it a habit now to keep a few of your sex toys at his place, including your most favorite vibrator, the same exact one you demonstrated for him when all of this first started. It soon became his favorite too. You pass it to him shakily, already at the edge, ready to burst any second. He takes it, holding the tip to your covered clit, the fabric properly drenched now. The vibrations start instantly as he pushes the button, causing you to jolt from the sensation. “Fuck!” you cry out, toes curling, knees wobbly. “Please, Choso.”

“Please what?” he teases, stroking his cock with his free fist. 

“Please take them off,” you beg, writhing below him.

He smiles wickedly, hooking the waistband of your underwear, slowly peeling them off you. “That’s my good girl.”

You kick them off frantically, immediately spreading yourself for him once more. “Hurry, baby,” you whine. 

With the vibe still buzzing in his hand, he leans down, giving you a wet smooch on your clit, then presses the fluttering tip to it. Pleasure radiates from your core to every limb of your body and you eventually reach your first climax of the night. 

“God, I love how fucking wet you get,” Choso moans, licking up and down your slit, savoring your orgasm. “So fucking sexy. Makes me want to come.” Precum leaks from the tip of his dick as he jerks himself faster, lips coated in your arousal as he continues to use the toy on you while drinking every drop of you up. 

“Fuck, you’re going to make me come again,” you say, trying to catch your breath. It’s both too much and not enough. The vibrations are relentless on your clit, his tongue hot and wet on your pussy. You’re drunk off this, head light as air, vision getting hazy. Drool spills from one side of your lips, losing control of your composure as you succumb to yet another orgasm, this time, with two of his fingers inside you. 

“So greedy,” he grins, his cock stiff against his abdomen. He takes his digits out of you, spreading your cum on his shaft. “You want more, sweetheart?”

You reach for his cock, desperate to have him fully inside you. “I want all of you.”

His demeanor changes at this, almost like you’ve said the magic words. He swallows nervously, stopping the toy and setting it aside. “Are you serious?”

You smile, nodding at him. “I want all of you, Choso. But if you’re not ready – ”

“I’m ready.” It stumbles out of his mouth in a rush, as if he’s been meaning to say it for a while now. “I want you. I always want you.”

“You have me.” You tug him towards you, wrapping your arms and legs around him, nuzzling your nose to his. “You’ll always have me.” 

He kisses you, humming softly against your lips. “You’re amazing,” he whispers, tapping the tip of his dick on your swollen clit. 

You twitch at his touch, already sensitive from earlier, but still so needy to be filled by him. “Hurry,” you beg him, gyrating your hips, losing your patience. 

“Condom,” he mutters, reaching towards your nightstand, eyes focused on how close his cock is to being inside you. 

You snap yourself out of whatever dangerous desires are playing through your head and nod in agreement, stretching your arm out to open the drawer, blindly retrieving the box of condom wrappers and small bottle of lube. With trembling fingers, he unwraps the condom, rolling it over his cock, coating a generous amount of lube on it. He eases inside you, both of you moaning as you stretch around him perfectly. When he’s to the hilt, he stays still for a moment, kissing you fervently, so happy to finally be connected with you like this. “Is this good?” he asks, always adorably concerned about you. 

You giggle, hugging him tighter. “It’s amazing baby.”

Reassured, he starts thrusting, pulling out ever-so-slightly to pound right back inside you. You squeeze every inch of him as he fucks you deeper, fighting the urge to come on the spot. It’s so damn good, too fucking good, like he’s on this euphoric high, impossible to come down. He can’t believe how incredible this feels, even with the condom on, and it makes him want to burst thinking about the near future when he’ll have a chance to do you without it. How pretty you’d look with his cum spilling out you. That fucked-out expression on your face as you beg him to breed you. The gorgeous belly when you’re pregnant with his baby...

Choso has to physically shake his head to rid these obscene fantasies from his thoughts. He really can’t help himself when he’s with you. Grunting with each thrust, he resists the temptation to pull this condom off to give it to you raw, reminding himself that patience is a virtue and that the two of you have all the time in the world.

It doesn’t take long for the both of you to come. As soon as you’re right at the edge of your third climax of the night, you cry out, “Right there, baby! Fuck me right there!” holding him tight as you spill all over his cock. He comes as soon as you finish, certain that if you weren’t using protection and assuming you’re currently ovulating, he’d surely get you pregnant with how fucking intense this load was. Choso pulls out, carefully pulling off the condom, taking a couple of seconds to marvel at all the cum you managed to draw out of him. You laugh, watching him as he ties the open end to toss into the nearby trash bin. “Is it a lot?”

He snuggles up next to you, nuzzling his nose to your neck, back to his precious puppy-dog cuteness. “If we weren’t using protection, it would have definitely gotten you pregnant.”

You joke, “And is that a bad thing?”

He rests a hand on your stomach, his touch tender and sweet. “Not at all. I wouldn’t mind raising a little baby with you.”

Normally, you’d freak out. Normally, Choso would freak out. But for some odd reason, the idea of sharing a future together, of raising a family together, seems right. And while it’s only been a month, you’re both confident that the two of you will be spending a long, healthy, loving life with each other. 

Choso’s phone vibrates on the nightstand, rousing the two of your from your post-coital snuggle session. When he reads whatever notification he’s received, he chuckles, turning the screen towards you, displaying a text message from Yuji:

So…how’s that castella cake? ;)

He types up a quick reply before putting his phone on silent to spend the rest of the night cuddling you uninterrupted. 

Absolutely perfect.

[oneforthemunny]

build me up, buttercup |dad!rockstar!eddie munson x mom!nepo baby!reader|

prompt: you and eddie are planning a baby shower to welcome in your first baby, persephone. or how the girl's flower themes are born.

a teeny tiny blurb that i'm excited to share. follows the lore than each of the girls have their own flowers, and this is how persephone's came to be <3 hope you enjoy!

contains: pure fluff. honestly just cutesy shit. language. pregnant!reader.

"I just want something bright." You hum, swaying gently to soothe your sore, aching joints. Your ring dazzled in the bright light pouring in from the open windows, smoothing over the swell of your stomach.

"Is there a specific color, Mrs. Munson?" The timid event planner asked, spreading out swatches of bright yellows, powdery blues, pastel pinks. "If we start with a color, maybe that would help narrow down the options?"

"I don't know." You frowned, a swell of frustrated tears bubbling to life in your chest. You didn't know, and you hated that you didn't know. It was your baby shower, you wanted it to be perfect.

Eddie's spine straightened, eyes cutting to you carefully. He sensed the tears, the irritation of feeling overwhelmed and frustrated, all threatening to come out the only way they knew how to. He'd been on the receiving end of too many of those fits. His hand found your thigh, squeezing it gently, thumb rubbing soft circles over your soft flesh, a desperate attempt to soothe.

"You're wanting flowers, right? That's the main theme." Your assistant, Natasha, a complete saint in disguise. With pregnancy brain and hormones, you were sure you'd never make it without her. "Do you have options for a floral theme?"

"Yes," The planner squeaked, thumbing through her briefcase of photos, swatches, notes.

Eddie felt you tense, your hand rubbing over your stomach in slow circles, huffing in defeat. "Hey, could you give us a second, Nat?" Eddie hummed. "Just give us one sec to look and kinda talk."

"Of course. Let's take a little break. I'll go get some tea." Natasha gave you both a small smile, padding to the kitchen the event planner following closely behind.

Your sigh, heavy and huffy, echoed off the walls. It made Eddie cringe gently, pulling the flower pictures closer to the two of you. "What about this one? Nice and pink for ya." Eddie held the small sample photo up to you, filled with sweet peas and hydrangeas, obnoxiously pink.

"Yeah," You muttered, lips still puffed in a pout. "I don't even know if I want pink anymore."

"Blue?" Eddie grinned lightly. "Trick everyone into thinking it's a boy incase there's a leak." He cringed when your breath hitched, eyes wide in horror.

"I'm kidding, baby." Eddie added quickly. "No one's gonna leak. We're keeping it intimate."

"Yeah, right." You sighed. "My mom and dad will bring all these people I barely even know."

"And I'll tell them to leave." Eddie's chest puffed, spine straightening. "I'm serious. They're not on the list, they can fuck off, alright? Goes for Victor and Tana too. Not gonna let them upset you."

The small smile you gave him felt like a standing ovation, a victorious win after a grueling, hard day. Filled his chest with warmth, hand squeezing yours lightly.

"If there's even a shower to kick them out of." Your smile fell just as quickly as it came, shoulders slumping with them. "Can't even pick a theme."

"We'll get it. C'mon," Eddie's calloused fingertips tickled your jaw, lifting your gaze to his. "Don't be like that, sweetheart."

"I can be like that if I want to." Your voice teetered on the edge of a whine, the hinting of a cry. "I can't even make a decision about a baby shower theme. How am I going to make a decision about a baby?"

"Stop that." Eddie shook his head, voice dropping to a soft coo. "Two totally different things, baby. Not even comparable." It was rational, firm but soothed your bundles of nerves. You both had your own worries, fears about parenthood- fear of the unknown that was creeping closer and closer.

"Here," Eddie stood, chains hanging from his jeans jingling with every heavy step towards the shelves on either side of the television, lined with books.

Eddie's fingers danced over the spines, until he found the book. Still new, no cracks in the spine or bent pages, a gift from Farrah when you told her the baby's name. "I saw it at this bookstore in Amsterdam. I had to get it." She'd squealed, giving you the book with a title that your baby shared- Persephone.

Eddie had been more elated than you, reading it front to back more than once. Reading it to you at night, eyes lighting when he'd read something interesting.

"I think I saw somethin' in here." Eddie sank back down beside you on the couch. "Just an idea."

You curled into him, knees tucked under you, head on the soft, worn material of his t-shirt. His cologne, a faint smoky smell of a cigarette- you could feel your body relaxing, intoxicatingly calm.

Calloused fingertips thumbed through the pages until he found the page he was looking for, lips parting in a soft, triumphant hum. "Look," Eddie tilted the page towards you, fingertip tracing the small etching of a flower. "Says there's some history behind this flower and Persephone."

You titled your head, eyes scanning over the text.

"In the Homeric Hymn to Demeter, Earth Goddess Gaia produced the yellow petaled Narcissus specifically to enchant Persephone. Now, this early blooming flower is seen as the harbinger of Spring, announcing Persephone's ascent to the surface."

"Interestingly, for all it's association with rebirth and new life with Spring, the bulb is highly toxic?" You frowned, head tilting up towards Eddie.

His lips curled in a wide, excited grin, eyes shining with gleaming pride. "That's fucking cool, isn't it?" Eddie beamed.

Heat blossomed in your chest, dissolving the feeling of frustration and fear, and blooming with something lighter. Soothing and happy, spreading through your chest all the way to your cheeks.

"That is pretty cool." You nodded, scanning the table for a yellow swatch. "We could do like a yellow and white kinda theme, right? That would be neutral in case it did get leaked."

Eddie gave a small eye roll. "It won't get leaked." He muttered, setting the book to the side. "But, yeah, neutral but still bright."

"Make the narcissus the main flower. Maybe add baby's breath and something else..." You muttered, pulling the swatches in front of you. Eddie's chest boasted, watching your small frown on your features, determined instead of frustrated now.

"Do they keep?" You turned to Eddie. "Like, they won't wilt or be gross, right?"

"Buttercups? Nah, they'll keep." Eddie shook his head gently. "Used to pick them for my mom all the time when I was little. She'd keep 'em in a vase and some water, and they'd stay forever."

Your heart swelled, a dull ache behind his words. Even now, married and expecting a baby, Eddie rarely spoke about his mother. Every small detail he'd share, you'd guard protectively in your thoughts, wanting to remember every detail you could.

"Ok," You nodded, a small sigh of relief. "Let's do that then."

You groaned, pushing off the back of the couch, Eddie's hands quickly finding your waist to help you stand. "Will you go get them? I have to pee, and I'll be right back."

Weeks later, Eddie was sure he'd never seen so many shades of yellow- so many flowers in his life. Your family's Malibu home transformed to a bright, floral baby shower of your dreams. Buttercups at every arrangement, starred prominently in bustles of baby's breath and tiny white daisies. All the guests even in various shades of yellow, shining brightly under the California sun.

Eddie managed to sneak a bouquet after the party, when you'd gone to lay down and the staff was cleaning up. He'd handed it to Natasha, sent it with her to get pressed and framed, until it found it's new home in the nursery.

[cassofheartsss]

Kissing your exes enemy

a/n: I’ve had writers block for ages and finally decided to try to finish my drafts and this is what i came up with

A day had passed, and Billy was already swapping Saliva with someone else. You already hated the party and you had only been there for a few minutes. With a roll of your eyes, you quickly turned away from your friends, ignoring Robin calling out for you. You knew she just wanted to help but you couldn’t deal with this right now. You stumble onto the porch with a string of curses leaving your lips. Steve Harrington then comes up to you, and you internally cursed. Obviously the one guy you liked would be the one to approach you and obviously he would mention Billy. “All alone?” Steve asked. The music pounded inside the house, but out on the porch, it was just you and him. Steve could tell you had been drinking a little bit, and the way you looked at him made him realize you were tipsy. He was amused. “You gonna be one of those sad drunks that mopes around about their ex?” He teased with a smirk.

“ha no he’s obviously over me so i see no point in giving him the satisfaction of wanting him back” You say scoffing. It wasn’t a lie because you were over Billy. You knew the relationship was going to an end weeks ago so the break up didn’t surprise you and if he was gonna try to make you jealous it wouldn’t hurt to make him jealous too right? Besides his enemy was standing right next to you now and you weren’t gonna deny it, Steve was attractive.

“Atta girl,” Steve commended, nodding his head in agreement. He leaned against the railing of the porch, propping one booted foot up on the edge of it as he watched you closely. “I’ve never ever liked Billy” Steve said after a few seconds of silence making you laugh.

“Wow really I would’ve never guessed” You say sarcastically making Steve laugh. “I guess I didn’t make it obvious enough then” Steve shot back making you laugh. “Y’know what would really piss him off?” Steve asked you and you raised your eyebrow and looked at him. “What?” You ask. “If we kiss infront of him” Steve said and at first you thought it was a joke but you could see that there was no hint that he was joking on his face. “Are you serious?” You ask and Steve just smiled. “It’s a way both of us can piss him off” Steve said and you smirked. “I’m in” You said and Steve quickly dragged you back into the party.

Almost immediately you see Billy playing beer pong and Steve quickly grabbed your hips and kissed you. Billy saw and looked pissed but you didn’t care. Kissing Steve wasn’t the worst thing ever but it was just to piss Billy off, not because you actually liked him. Well maybe you had a teeny tiny crush on Steve but you weren’t going to admit that.

[glutominnn]

Have you ever wonder why Ivory Wraith mess around/find out with PC even when you literally haven't touch the necklace or trespassing on a blood moon? Why it'd still stalk you on the street out of nowhere just to give you that little bit of trauma and stress for funnies?

Beside the fact in the Schism event that Ivory Wraith is closed with another initiate, who's subtly hinted to be PC in their previous life. This relationship, however, was not explicitly confirmed what it was. Depends on your interpretation, they could have been a friend/crush/lover/spouse of Ivory. We don't know yet.

One thing we DO know, is that even after witnessing and dying in such cirtumtances, staying who knows how long under the lake, no doubt Ivory's mentality was fucked, and though it might have forgotten many things, it was clearly still hanging on to two things: the necklace and the memories of the initiate that's closed to it when it was alive.

Now imagine this: someone who's very dear and important to you passed away, and then after some time, an imitator with the same appearance shows up and does all sort of stupid shits, steals things right infront of you. Would you be at least, a teeny tiny bit, feels like you need to fuck with them out of spite? Yea, I thought so.

Even if PC turns out to be that initiate, I can tell there's no way they could be exactly the same person, despite many similarities. Think about how mocked and utterly pissed off Ivory must have felt when the very reincarnation of their friend/crush/lover/spouse, who they used to loved so much, just swam down and took away the last possession they have left, nosy and ignorant while doing so.

It's insulting to both Ivory and the person they held in their memory.

[dat-town]

my first and last forever

Characters: Taesan & female reader

Setting & genre: fluff, established relationship, college au

Summary: You celebrate your first anniversary with your fashion designer boyfriend, so you stress over what to wear. Not that it matters, he loves you either way and his present is proof enough.

Warnings: birth names are used, teeny tiny suggestiveness because i couldn’t miss out on the reference for this cover, also cheesiness??

Words: 2.3k

Author’s note: happy birthday to my fellow leo (baby)! this is inspired by the fact that Taesan likes to customize clothes and this video where Leehan and him went to a stained glass workshop with a fan. title from Taesan’s self-composed song So I can say you’re beautiful (eng trans.)

Having an indie fashion brand owner boyfriend means quite a few things for your closet.

Number one, your clothing style starts to resemble his because he looks way too cool, gives great advice on how to match your pieces and he keeps buying you stuff.

Number two, except for a few items that never fail to make Dongmin crunch his nose in silent judgment (come on, it’s a Christmas sweater, it’s supposed to be ugly!), most of your clothes match his. Woonhak always comments on your couple look which in turn makes your boyfriend roll his eyes but you know that secretly he likes it.

Number three, you have pretty much every collection in every color of his brand’s clothes and those become your favorites (right after stealing Dongmin’s clothes).

Number four, choosing a date outfit without his input is killing you. When you don’t know what to wear usually you just ask him or send him options and let him choose but not this time though. You know he wouldn’t care even if you put on the bright yellow sundress he once compared to a children's crayon because he thinks you’re pretty no matter what but you would like to impress him, it’s your anniversary after all.

You weigh your chances as if you were on Who wants to be a millionaire?: you can ask the friend group over chat excluding Dongmin of course or give a call to his yapper best friend in case he knows something.

“No,” Jaehyun says immediately when he takes the phone call that you decided to make.

“Hello to you too. I didn’t even say what I want,” you pout, surprised at his reaction.

“Right but Dongmin has been going on and on about you guys’ anniversary for months I swear, so of course, I know what’s today and no, I’m not telling you what he’s planning,” Jaehyun rambled but you could tell it was clearly a rehearsed speech. He had expected this. Also you couldn’t help but internally coo at the thought of your indifference-looking boyfriend speaking so much about your upcoming celebration.

“Not even a little hint? How should I dress?” You voice out your dilemma and you can clearly hear Jaehyun laugh at your pain on the other side of the line.

“Ask your fashion designer boyfriend.”

“But I want to surprise him! He told me that anything’s fine and that’s not helping. I know him, I know we aren’t going to a super fancy restaurant or for a hike but still, there are so many options!” You whine and Jaehyun huffs.

“Dress comfortably and don’t wear too much jewelry but that’s all I can say,” he says before making a weak excuse that he gotta go, so he hangs up.

You sigh but manage to narrow down the options to two vastly different styles. One is a pale pink layered dress with ribbon strips which is very unlike anything in Dongmin’s wardrobe but he likes you in pink and he has a tiny bit of an obsession with you wearing ribbons or any strings tied. His mischievous ass likes to tug on them to see how much it takes for them to come undone or to get you annoyed. The other outfit is a fake leather, side slit skort with fishnet tights and one of his designs, a black crop top with colorful lettering. All three are also definitely things your boyfriend likes on you, so you’re stuck.

It’s time to ask the audience.

you guys!!! HELP [image_64735.jpg] [image_73628.jpg] which one should i wear? woon baby ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ you don’t laugh it’s a serious dilemma sanghyukie I would go with the first one you thank you, hyuk, you are a godsent princess wonnie ✨ OMG the pink?!?! is that a question? annabelle i vote the black one pls film the brainfreeze he gets when he sees you in that myungjae lol i second that sungho 💪 Please don’t cause him lasting damage 🙏 woon baby i love chaos so … the second donghyun-ah 🐠 👍 you [added a poll to group chat “daily dongmin gossip”]

The black outfit wins by one vote. You thank the guys for their input and start to get ready because you are already a bit too late compared to your estimate.

You dress up, do a smokey eye shadow makeup with cherry red lips, put on boots and pull your hair up in a high ponytail. Looking into the mirror, you know this look doesn’t seem anniversary-like at all with how dark it is but you are convinced Dongmin would like it and would even wear something similar. One last look in the mirror and one whiff of perfume applied, you are out of the door to catch the metro.

Your boyfriend is easy to spot even in the crowd at your destination station. He’s leaning against the wall, scrolling on his phone, looking as disinterested as one can be. He wears custom made sneakers, ripped jeans and a My Chemical Romance tee you bought him. You indeed match. He hasn’t noticed you yet, so you decide to sneak up on him. You’re two steps away from him when you see the corner of his mouth twitch as if he’s trying to suppress a smile but his posture doesn’t change. You know that you got caught but because Dongmin tries so hard to let you have your fun, you pretend not to know. You crash into his side, rise on your tiptoes and press a quick kiss on his cheek with a giggle. It leaves a slight pink color behind on the skin, the same as the tips of the boy’s ears. It only makes you smile harder.

“Hi!”

“Hey,” he turns to you then, pushing the sunglasses up onto the crown of his head and somehow he manages to artfully mess up his black locks without looking silly while you are busy scrubbing his cheek clean. The next thing you know is his feline eyes zeroing in on your choice of clothes and he visibly swallows, you can see the bob of his Adam’s apple, which tells you that you made a right choice but he plays cool.

It reminds you of the first time you spoke, when he came up to you between university classes as you were grabbing a drink and asked if you would model for his fashion brand. Or well, he was rather offering you a part time job for a few thousand won. He was very serious about it but you were no model and your art university had a whole website for such scouting, so you were a bit suspicious.

“Why me?” You tilted your head, keeping eye contact because you literally couldn’t look away. Dongmin has always had the most beautiful eyes that sucked you in like a black hole.

“I think you would look good in my clothes,” he said and your eyebrows immediately shot up at the implications behind his words which he soon caught up on too. “I mean, my brand’s clothes,” he corrected himself and suddenly he looked shy. He wore all black and an intimidating bad boy aura and he was getting flustered by you.

“Show me?” You asked him with a sweet smile, stepping closer as he whipped out his phone to show you pictures on his brand’s Instagram (@giant_mountain_clothes). If you hadn’t been taken before by his charm, you were definitely impressed then by how cool his designs actually looked, so you followed each other on social media and agreed on a date for the photo session.

When the day came, Dongmin was all professionalism as he handed you the clothes (jeans with a pattern that looked like graffiti, black and white crop tops with pretty cool line art and typography) and he gave instructions both to you and the photographer about the poses and camera angles. By the end of it, you pretty much thought you had misunderstood his intentions last time. It would have been a bit disappointing if the modeling session turned out to be an awkward experience.

“Not gonna lie, at first I thought it’s just an excuse to ask me out but it’s very cool that you already have a brand like this during uni. And the clothes were super comfy, so I will make sure to stock up before you get famous,” you spoke up playfully after the photographer left and it was just the two of you alone. After changing back to your own clothes, you were allowed to roam around in the studio slash warehouse but you turned away from the sketches on the table when the silence became too loud, facing Dongmin who cleared his throat as soon as your eyes met.

“Well, would you have said yes?” He raised a brow, all nonchalant, but you smiled.

“Try asking,” you challenged him which made him laugh and the rest is history. One year has passed and you’re still going on strong.

Later you got to know that all of his previous models were either his friends or a friend of a friend, so him asking you was actually a big thing. Once you were added to the big friend group chat, Jaehyun couldn’t stop teasing him about it and telling you endearing details about how nervous Dongmin apparently was before that first modeling session of yours. Because of course, there were more following that.

Snapping back to reality, you tilt your head while looking at your boyfriend.

“Like it?” You ask as innocently as you can but your breath hitches when Dongmin slides a hand over your bare side protectively and leans closer to your ear.

“Very. Might ruin your lipstick later,” he promises in a low voice, his warm breath tickling your skin, then he pulls away but keeps his hand on you as he leads you out of the metro station. He walks slower deliberately, so you could keep up with his long legs.

“So… will you tell me now where we’re going?” You can’t help but inquire because curiosity has been bugging you so much. Dongmin asked you to make your day free in advance but he didn’t say anything about his plans and he gave no hints either. Unlike you who accidentally told him about the concert tickets you bought (which he first laughed about because of your overdramatic reaction but his face lit up nevertheless as if you brought him down the stars), he was too good at keeping secrets.

“You will see soon,” he grins at you with his boxy smile like a promise and doesn’t crumble even seeing your pout. He must really want to surprise you because that usually works.

And surprise he does when he takes you all over Insadong, to the second floor of a crammed, colorful building in the middle of an artsy district of the city to a jewelry studio.

“Wait… wait! Is this what I think it is?” You turn to your boyfriend with widened eyes when you see a poster about custom ring workshops beside the entrance. “Han Dongmin, you’re such a romantic!”

“Am not,” The boy denies immediately but he’s not looking into your eyes, apparently too busy searching up the confirmation email on his phone.

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that,” you mutter, smiling from ear to ear as you attach yourself to his side and crane your neck to look around in the studio. Now you understand why Jaehyun suggested wearing less jewelry for today’s activity.

You can’t stop smiling even as you are sitting down at a table after receiving protective gloves and an apron instructed to take measurements of the finger you want to make the ring for. You immediately reach out for Dongmin’s hand. There’s something intimate in the way your fingers slot together and you pay attention to every knuckle and even the needle scars on his fingertips from his hard work.

Dongmin is an artist and good at craft like that, so obviously the ring he makes for you is prettier than the one you make for him but he doesn’t seem to mind it at all. He doesn’t want perfection, he wants you with all your flaws and clumsy metalsmithing skills. It takes a few hours and a bunch of help from your instructors but you walk out of the studio with matching couple rings. Dongmin isn’t big on PDA but you can get away with holding his hand, the new rings still warm to touch grazing. You love holding his hand or just playing with his fingers; you love the casual intimacy of it, that you get to be close to him like this, connected in such a simple yet meaningful way.

At the metro, you nudge Dongmin’s side to make him look at you and there’s only fondness in his eyes which makes you feel spoiled. He always looks at you as if you were special.

“Thank you. I love it so much,” you tell him, wanting to commit this moment to your memories. Right next to the first time he told you he loves you. It was an accident, something he blurted out during play fighting while you acted pseudo sulky and you were so surprised you almost fell off the couch because he was an actions over words type of guy. You couldn’t make him say it again once realization hit both of you but you loved him in spite of it. Because of it. You just love him.

“Happy anniversary, baby,” Dongmin smiles and you melt like every time he calls you that. You close your eyes and lean your head on his shoulder, the ring bearing his initials feeling like a promise on your finger. He’s mine, mine, mine and I’m his, his, his, your heart chants all happy.

you [image_83464.jpg] woon baby i want to be the ringbearer at the wedding!! princess wonnie ✨ aww couple rings so cute! myungjae don’t flaunt your relationship in front of our single asses me when? TT

[hoedamn-eron]

bluey!

Nathan discovers your son’s favourite show.

Warnings: As always, Nathan is a warning. No offence to Miss Rachel or anyone who uses Miss Rachel (I’ve personally never watched her, just needed Nathan to be a dick). Hints of infertility (from this episode of Bluey). Teeny tiny mention of parental anxiety of meeting milestones (from this episode of Bluey). Not proofread this time. Word count: 1,238 F!Reader, no use of Y/N.

Yet another self indulgent fic about dad!Nathan. Set in the same universe as Shut Up, Kid, but can be read as a stand-alone. This also was only meant to be a quick one shot but it turned out to be over 1k 😂.

Nathan Bateman was a fucking genius.

He built the code for Blue Book when he was thirteen years old.

He used to think himself a God. He could build realistic androids, for Christ's sake (not anymore, not since ‘The Incident’).

And because of this, he finds it hard to ‘switch off’. His brain was always moving a million miles a minute, constantly filled with thoughts of how to improve the company, and now that he’s a dad, it just added another thing to think about. And he isn’t complaining about having to think about Silas – he loves the kid, would do anything for him – but at the same time...it is just another thing to keep his brain busy.

Like today.

You come walking into his office (the door is open most days now), holding Silas on your hip, his favourite pacifier in his mouth, and carrying as many toys as you could in your other hand.

“Can you watch him for an hour, please?”

You see Nathan’s shoulders slump before you’ve even finished asking, and you ignore the spark of irritation that sits uncomfortably in your chest as Nathan turns his chair to look at you. You know he’s busy, but you’re busy too; you’ve been called in for a virtual meeting, on your maternity leave, no less, with the department heads – you know they wouldn’t appreciate a noisy baby in the background (despite the fact you want to make a point that they requested you...on your maternity leave).

Besides, Nathan doesn’t have any tight deadlines right now. He’s the CEO, he can push anything back whenever he damn well pleases anyway.

“Nathan, he’ll just sit and watch his TV show for a bit, it’s only an hour.”

Nathan sighs, and you tense at it.

He makes a mental note to make up for it later.

“Okay,” he says, and without looking at him, you walk over to the rug in his office, sitting Silas down on it before placing the toys around him, in easy reach for him.

You turn on the TV and place Bluey on, before walking over to Nathan’s desk and placing the remote on it. You give a swift, “See you in an hour,” before hurrying out to make your meeting.

Nathan gives a quick look to Silas, who – in your defence – was still, watching the TV, sucking away on his pacifier. Satisfied, Nathan turns back to his computer, his eyes drifting over to Silas every now and then before turning back to his screens. The noise from the TV fades into the background, until one particular line jumps out at Nathan.

“Magic Claw has no children. His days are free and easy.”

Nathan huffed a laugh through his nose. He couldn’t agree more. He glanced at the TV then back at Silas before turning back to his computer.

After a while, another line came through, causing him to chuckle again.

“Can I help you?”

“I wish you could, mate.”

Eventually, when he hears the characters talking about – what he thinks is – wanting kids and being unable to have them, he turns his full attention to the TV.

“What the fuck are you watchin’?” Nathan asks before standing and slipping his hands in his pockets as he saunters over to stand behind Silas.

Nathan stands and watches the family of cartoon dogs; Bluey and her sister, Bingo, and their parents, Chilli and Bandit. He watches with a furrowed brow for a moment, wondering how this was his son’s favourite show (it was probably all the colours). And he guesses the theme tune was a little catchy. And sure, Silas didn’t quite understand it, but the dialogue was funny.

“This is better than some of the other shit you watch,” Nathan said, bending down and picking Silas up, without taking his eyes off the TV. “That whiney black bunny you watch? Hate him. The Teletubbies? Also awful. I don’t understand why your mom thinks it’s a classic.”

Silas made a small noise around his pacifier and pointed to the TV.

“Yeah, she your favourite?” Nathan asks, looking at Silas. “What’s her name again? Bingo?”

Silas makes another noise, almost as if confirming with Nathan, still pointing at the TV.

Nathan nodded anyway. “Okay, okay, gotcha.”

After a moment, Nathan stood holding Silas, the two of them watching Bluey together.

Your meeting overran.

By nearly 45 minutes.

Nathan was going to be pissed.

You speed-walk to his office, ready to blurt out an apology (even though it wasn’t your fault the meeting went over), but you stop mid step when you hear Nathan say to Silas, “I think she’s sleeping with the neighbour.”

Your brow furrows in confusion as you hear him, then Silas babble back.

“Oh yeah, you agree? They’re too friendly, right?”

You slowly walk into the Nathan’s office, seeing him standing with his bank to you on the rug, holding Silas in his arms as they watched Bluey together. Nathan was lightly swaying, almost as if he didn’t realise he was doing it.

You sucked in your lips, holding back a laugh. You didn’t want to ruin the moment.

“You better not turn out like Muffin, she’s insane,” Nathan said. “I’ll love you regardless, but still.”

Your heart skipped a beat, like it did every time you heard those words come out of his mouth. It wasn’t as if Nathan had never said ‘I love you’, but he…struggles…to express his emotions that aren’t irritability or exasperation. But with Silas, it came naturally to him. He never failed to say ‘I love you’ to his son (of course, Nathan does say it to you, but he understands you’re a ‘full-grown adult who can identify acts of love’; his words).

You’re brought out of your reverie as a new episode of Bluey started, the theme music kicking in. Your eyes widen and you laugh quietly as Nathan starts lightly jumping around to the music, Silas laughing and kicking his legs excitedly.

“I’m watching the footage back to this,” you say.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” Nathan says, jumping as he whirls around to look at you. “Announce yourself, would you?”

“You, uh…” you say, still grinning. “You watching Bluey?” you look at Silas, who smiles at you and kicks his legs in excitement. “You watching Bluey with dada? Does dada like Bluey?”

“This is fuckin’ great,” he says, giving you a pointed look. “So much better than that Miss Rachel, or whatever her name is. She’s fuckin’ annoying.”

“Excuse me, she’s very educational!”

“She’s overdoing it. The kid will learn to talk fine with just us.”

“His first word will probably be something inappropriate,” you say. “Like fuck. Or asshole.”

Nathan doesn’t reply as he turns back to the TV. You come and stand next to him, watching the episode with him. It’s the one where Chilli was telling Bluey about how she was worried that Bluey wasn’t going to meet her milestones, but Coco’s mom had told her she was doing an amazing job. It was one of your favourite episodes.

“I’ve been stood here for an hour watching these,” Nathan said quietly. “It’s nice.”

“Just standing and swaying with him?” you ask gently.

“Yeah,” Nathan said simply, not expanding.

You nod, before leaning against him a little. You feel him push back at you.

You stand together and watch a few more seconds of Bluey before you ask, “So you think Chilli and Lucky’s dad are going at it?”

“Oh they definitely are.”

[bahbzxxx]

Windblume Star🌹🥀

Yandere!!! Venti x Reader

Warning: Yandere content ahead. If Yandere themes make you uncomfortable, this is not the fic for you.

If you’d like a creepy and darker Venti, this is the fic for you!!!

___________________________________________

Venti purrs from behind you, stroking your hair. He didn’t outwardly seem too bothered that your body had completely frozen up under his touch, and that you clearly would rather shove a brick down your throat than talk to him…

But you know better. His efferverecence veils a fury that he is straining so hard to control…

He loves to remind you of this. “All for you, my darling!”

You could do with a flower in your hair, the archon decides. You’re absolutely stunning without, but maybe it would cheer you up? Yeah, that hopeless and terrified look he can guarantee is on your face right now kind of dampens the mood. To be honest, it’s really dampening his mood! Why oh can’t you be happy with him?

Venti plucks a wind-wheel aster from beside him, and chuckles as he pulls back some of your hair to expose your cheek to him. He leans into your ear as he puts the flower in your hair, finding the minuscule shudder of your body so very amusing Anything he does to you gets a reaction! Even if it’s little…you can’t hide from him forever!

“Ah…my sweet Angel…I hope you don’t mind…but I just cannot resist the image of you wearing a flower…”

He grins devilishly.

“One of my flowers.”

He gives you a kiss on the cheek.

In return, he receives a jab in his ribs.

He’s actually in a bit of shock…

You’re already standing up, having added so much unnecessary distance between him and you. What was that for, hmm?

He looks at you and huffs. Why do you look so pale? He’s just trying to show you he loves you…

“Now now…is that really anyway to treat me?”

He gets up, and brushes himself off, giving himself a teeny tiny pat on his ribs so that, maybe, you’d get a hint that you had hurt him, and that made him sad! Why did you make him sad?

“You seem to be forgetting just the teeniest thing about me. Hmm?“

That stare. Those wide eyes. They way you’re terrified to so as BREATHE…

“Ah! I’m just messing with you, don’t be so silly!”

He walks toward you, gently holding his hands out.

“There’s no reason to worry. Don’t be afraid…don’t be afraid of me…”

You are practically frozen when he makes his way to you. His smile is gentle as he adjusts the flower in your hair. He takes it out, with the intention to put it back in. It got a bit ruffled when you…uh, made your cute little escape, yeah!

“What worries you, my Windblume star?”

His eyes. They’re so beautiful…

They’re the most terrifying eyes of all…

…

What is it with you and running off whenever he tries to be kind to you, and tries to understand you?

Venti watches, astounded that you are already so far away from him. Yes, you will never actually escape him, and naturally, the winds shielding old mondstadt from the outside know very well their one instruction from the God of Wind.

In his pale hand, the aster still sits. It’s little petals are still whirling, but barely.

The archon suffocates it with all of his might, in his fist, exercising that amazing “restraint” of his.

Yeah. You made him a little more than “sad” with that move.

Good luck, little Windblume Star!!!!

[bubblegumrabbitwriting]

Can we get an A nsfw scenario, please? Maybe one with a shy Mc? Especially after that last ask about being mine with the collar. Pretty, please? 🥹🥹

But if you wanna do something different or not do it, that it totally fine. 🙂

Ask and you shall receive; not going to lie, I got carried away with writing the setup for this. Hope you enjoy!

You rush through the streets of the lower layer, the cold gales of the New York autumn seeming to pierce through you no matter how many layers you drape yourself in. You pull your scarf up and pick up the pace, racing towards where A said they were waiting.

Your day started with you waking up to a call from A telling you to meet them at the address they sent you and that it was of the utmost importance you get there as soon as possible.

The street names around you blur as you twist and turn, your phone giving you the directions to whatever secluded spot A is held in. Your mind constructing whatever terrible situation they might be in, with how you can help them out of it, offers support in whatever ways you can… Shit, you really have fallen for them, haven't you?

You empty your mind; it's not the time to try and figure out whatever relationship you and A have. Your feet speed up, trying to bring you to them just that tiny bit quicker.

Your phone pings you that you have arrived at your destination, some rundown building. Old, rusted iron chairs and tables scattered around the derelict front. You instantly bolt for the door, which lies slightly ajar and gives you access to the dust-covered interior. more chairs and tables lay broken and untouched, your body tensing as you prepare yourself for the ambush you have convinced yourself is waiting for you.

Stepping further in, you're not met with an ambush, just old mugs and cups and a sign on the dusty counter that reads, 'Upstairs, sweetheart ;)'. Written in perfect cursive and swirls, love hearts crudely drawn around the paper. If this is just a setup for an ambush, it's very elaborate.

You sigh, the adrenaline pumping through your veins dissipating as frustration and a teeny tiny bit of endearment fill you.

Making your way up the creaky stairs behind the counter, your hurried pace forgotten now that danger is pushed all the way to the back of your mind. Instead, all you can think of is their pretty/handsome face, neat blonde hair, and how you're going to strangle them when you see them…maybe after you kiss them.

Once you reach the top of the staircase, you're greeted by a candlelit scene, the dust that floats around the space reflecting the dim light in a magical dance. A tartan blanket rolled out on the old wooden floor, along with a bottle of wine and a picnic basket. You're not sure if you should laugh at the cliché scene before you or instantly dive in. The blush dusting your features might give a hint, but you blame the cold from your travel.

A voice breaks your inspection, their smooth cadence dancing to your ear's over the quiet crackle of the candles. "Pomme, you made it." You turn to face them as they send you that same stupid smirk. "Oh, and look how red you are, perfectly ripe." You're sure that you turn another shade darker at the words.

"W-what is this?" You try to sound assertive, only slightly betrayed by the stutter to your words.

A just grin's like the cat that caught the canary. "Never seen a picnic before?" When you send them an unimpressed stare, they just wink at you. "Well, you have been so caught up with your 'investigation' that I thought you could do with a break."

“So your call was a lie then?” You manage to get out without your racing heart getting in the way.

A gasps dramatically, throwing their arm over their chest and leaning back. “A lie, you wound me, Pomme.” When you just continue to stare at them, they pout slightly. “All I said was that it was important you got here as quickly as possible, and it is; the tub of ice cream I brought is already starting to melt, and unfortunately, run-down buildings tend not to have electricity.” They pause, grasping their chin. “Wait, can you use your sparks to fix that?” You just sigh and shake your head slightly.

“Well, no matter, come sit. Your legs must be tired with all the racing around you did worrying for my safety.”

“I—I was not.” You let out with an indignant squeak, as the blush you managed to fight comes back in full force.

“Really, so you just decided to run here instead of walking because?” A replies, playfully narrowing their eyes and wearing a smug grin.

“Maybe I just wanted to see you…” You mumble underneath your breath.

“Because you love me?!” A grin widens as they stare at you.

“L-let’s just sit down.” You say check’s darker after the interaction and trying your best to bury your face in your scarf.

“Whatever you say, Pomme.” A gesture's out with their arm towards the picnic laid out on the floor, you both lowering yourselves onto the small blanket.

As you both get settled, A starts unpacking the food from the picnic basket. Bring out a ridiculous amount of different treats and meals from the small basket and laying them out between the both of you.

By the time you're finished with the food, the bottle of wine A brought is empty, mostly thanks to A, and you are both lounging well, chatting, your scarf laying discarded next to you.

"W-why do all this?" Your voice comes quiet and tentative.

"Why, well, I'm quite fond of picnics myself and—" A begins to reply.

"You know that's not what I meant." You interrupt with exasperation and slight fondness.

A hums. "You mean why did I do this for you?" You're only able to nod timidly. "I think it's quite obvious." When you continue to just stare at them blankly, they let out a small chuckle underneath their breath. "Because you're mine."

"You're mine…" You repeat the words insensitively, your brain scrambling to understand the emotion behind them. Why do they set your heart aflutter, and why do you want nothing more?

A lets out a purr from deep within their throat. "Am I now?" They lean closer to you, their body pushed against yours. "How are we going to show it, a ring, or what about matching tattoos? Or maybe we could do a leash and collar?" They flutter their eyelashes at you with a mock innocent look as you feel heat crawl up your neck.

You lean back on your elbows. "I—I didn't mean—"

"Ooohhh, so you want to be the one wearing the collar, hm?" A crawls towards you slowly like a cat trapping its prey, and what prey you are.

At this point they are practically leaning over, one hand tenderly cupping your cheek while the other reaches beside you. Your body all but leans into their touch, craving the connection.

A tender strokes along your cheekbone with their thumb. "Unfortunately, I don't have a collar on hand." You then feel a pressure tighten around your wrist. "You did so helpfully bring your scarf, however." They say with a self-satisfied pleasure at their own actions. Looking over your shoulder, you get to see A's handiwork for yourself, your wrist bound together by your discarded scarf in an intricate bow.

Your inspection allows A to lean forwards, trailing light kisses along your neck to your ear before whispering. "I hope it's not too tight." They know damn well that you could easily break the bind if you wish, not that you will…

When you don't respond, A lightly nips your earlobe, drawing sound from you as their other hand trails up from their work along the small of your back. A walks their fingers up the curve of your spine in playful movements. Sensing your distraction due to the fingers continuing their trail on your spine, A lightly grasps your chin, turning you to face them before softly kissing you and allowing you to deepen it.

Your kiss breaks; yours and A's foreheads rest on each other's. "Sweet as always, Pomme." A lets out a breathless whisper. Before they dive back in for another heated kiss, once you have both regained some normal breathing, you moan into it as their other hand works its way back down your bound wrist, pulling you downwards.

"Be good and stay still for me." You don't reply; you're not sure if you could even if you wanted to with the way your heart hammers in your ears and your body alights in response to the words. A gives you a small smile at your obedience, giving you another stroke across the cheek.

A turns over their hand where it rests on your cheek, dragging their knuckles down the planes of your face to your neck. Reaching your collarbone and sliding their hand under the collar of your shirt. By the time A's touch is on your chest, you're a blushing mess, and they know it, looking up to watch you with a hooded gaze and a pleased smirk.

"Just when I thought you couldn't get any more flushed." A says quietly, but the words fill the silence like a shout.

"You can't just—" Your words are halted as a moan breaks past your lips as you feel a pinch on your chest where a hand is laid.

"What was that?" A taunts as they lift your shirt, kissing along your midriff, their other hand trailing down your side to your thigh.

Any other words you try to get out come as breathless moans and exhales as they continue their journey along your body. By the time they dip lower, you've all but melted into them, leaning into every little touch and kiss.

You're not sure how long both you and A tussle on the dusty floor, but by the time you're done, you're leaning against them, their arms circling you, and you wish that your little retreat never ends. Your wrist aching ever so slightly.

[rearranged-fanfic]

Seaside (Original Draft)

Summary: When Reader-chan returns to her seaside hometown for the summer, she catches the eye of a mysterious suitor. Of course, she's not aware that she even has a suitor, let alone one as unusual as this... Merman!Gojo AU. Pairing: Gojo Satoru/Female Reader Rating: E for the fun stuff. A/N: This is the original version of the story - a first draft . A bigger, better iteration of it exists here. This version is incomplete. I decided to host it on Tumblr, rather than deleting it altogether. That way people who originally enjoyed it can keep reading it.

The cab door closes behind me, and I wait as the driver hauls my oversized suitcase out of his trunk.

My sundress billows against my legs as I walk out past the cover of the village welcome center.  The covered awning opens up into a boundless blue sky above.  Tarmac underfoot gives way to soft grass that’s started to turn gold in the summer heat.  The sea wind blows, nearly sending my hat into the sky above.  It smells like salt and surf and nostalgia.

And the tiniest bit like fish, I admit to myself with a hint of humor.

The teeny tiny seaside town below me is just as quaint and quiet as it’s ever been.  From above, I can see the people wandering the cobblestone streets.  In the distance, ships pull in and out of the harbor.  Seagulls scream from behind the fluffy clouds above.  My little corner of paradise, away from the faceless mobs in the big city.  There’s something so incredibly reaffirming about coming back home after months and months away.  I feel closer to my heart, in a way.

It’s still the same, I think to myself.  Every summer, I return, and it’s like I never left.

I’d grown up in the village below.  It’d been my home for most of my life—up until I’d moved away to go to college.

Not that school is going well, to be honest.  But that’s something to worry about when I’m not on my own personal holiday.

“Sis!”

Still holding my hat against my head, I turn around.  Just in time to get tackled by a brown-haired blur.  Takuma Ino sweeps me up into one of his patented hugs.  I giggle as I’m lifted off of my own two feet and hoisted into his arms, made strong from years of working a fishing craft.  He spins the two of us around until the world devolves into splotches of color and light.

“Put me down, put me down!” I shriek in between my laughter, still trying in vain to keep my hat from joining the clouds.  “Takkun, I’m going to throw up if you don’t stop spinning,” comes my pointed threat.  And I’m suddenly back on my own two feet.

“I’m just so happy to see you again!” he exclaims.  “It feels like it’s been years!”

“Takuma, you saw her last summer.  Give her some room to breathe, you big dork,” comes an admonishment from nearby.

Takuma’s longtime girlfriend, Akari Nitta, has come to greet me as well.  She hasn’t changed too much over the years, though she’s letting her roots grow out.  Dark brown natural hair fades into the golden blonde that she’d once favored.  She’s in a mechanic’s jumpsuit, I notice.  The suit is unzipped and rolled down at the top, revealing her toned arms from years of fixing up boats and the like.  She looks healthy.  Good.  The last time I’d visited, she’d been battling a pretty nasty sickness that’d left her weak and frail.

“Akari!”  She smiles warmly and pulls me into a hug as well, sans lifting and spinning.  “It’s good to see you again!”

“Good to see you, too.  Seems like big city life is treating you fine, huh?”

“Can’t complain,” I demure, shrugging.  “You seem to be doing better than the last time I saw you.”

“I spent some time in the hospital in the next town over.  Takuma fussed over me so much that I had the choice of being smothered to death or getting better; I chose getting better.”  She jokes.

“I wasn’t trying to smother you,” Takuma pouts.

“Didn’t have to try to succeed, Babe.”

I roll my eyes good-naturedly.  They’re still sickeningly sweet, I see.  And practically joined at the hip, just like I can remember them always being.  Akari and Takuma are both two years younger than I am.  I’d grown up alongside them, having been practically raised by the Ino family after my parents had passed.

“No baby sister this time around?” Akari pries.  “You guys fighting again?”

I wave her off.  “Nah.  She’s busy travelling the world with her new fling.  You know how she is.”

Takuma snorts out a laugh.  My sister can never stay still for too long.  She’s always been a bit too wild to put down roots or make commitments.

Ever the gentleman, Takuma takes my heavy suitcase so I don’t have to carry it all the way.  The two walk me into town, updating me on the comings and goings of the village in the intervening months since I’d last been here.

Takuma’s older sister, Akemi, is at university.  She’s working hard to become a child psychologist, living in the same city that I do.  We meet up for lunch occasionally, when she can catch a break from her mountain of schoolwork and her tedious part-time job.  Takuma still fills me in on her, though, boasting about her academic accomplishments with brotherly pride.  She’s set to move into an internship at a reputable company, which is one step closer to realizing her dream.

Mayu, the Ino family matriarch, retired last year.  Well, she’d quit formally working to pursue a hobby making jewelry from the seashells that wash up on the beach.  Her online store has taken off, given how busy Takuma says the woman is fulfilling orders.

And Takuma and Akari are the same as they’ve always been.  He goes out on his dad’s fishing boat nearly every day while she keeps the old motor up and running like clockwork.  And, in their free time, the two go surfing in the large waves that break just off shore.  They’re planning on entering a competition this year in the hopes of getting a piece of that sweet, sweet cash reward.  They’d had to forgo last year’s surf-off because of Akari’s illness.

“But this year,” she states, “we’re bringing home that trophy!”

Takuma snorts at his girlfriend’s enthusiasm but wholeheartedly agrees.  “They got lucky that we weren’t there to destroy the competition last summer.  But we’re back and better than ever, baby!”  The two whoop and high five.

Yep.  They’re still the same as always.

It’s nice, I think, how this place seems almost frozen in time.  It’s always the same: peaceful, idyllic, sheltered from the rest of the world’s chaos.

Takuma walks me through town and out to my parents’ old house—my summer home.  Akari breaks off to go back to her shop along the way, and I’m left alone with my adopted cousin.  He chatters on about his career, and how things have changed since the last time I was in town.  He goes on and on about how Aoi Todo can’t help him on the boat anymore because he’d left to be a bassist for some up-and-coming pop idol.

“Yikes.  You go out to sea alone?”

“Yeah.  It’s a real bummer, y’know?  I get bored out there with nobody to talk to.”

Forget about the boredom.  That doesn’t sound safe at all.  And when I lecture him about how dangerous fishing alone is, he just pats my head and tells me not to worry.  Yeah, right.  I’ll always worry about him.  He’s family.  And more than a little scatterbrained.

On the way through the village, we get stopped by the vast majority of people we pass.  I’ve known most of these people since I was very small.  And some of them I’ve known since they were small.  We pass by the troublesome trio: Yuji Itadori, Nobara Kugisaki, and Megumi Fushiguro.  So named because they’re always getting into some form of mischief.

Last year, they’d put the mayor’s underwear in the summer hotpot.

And the year before that, the photocopier in town hall had mysteriously printed out a series of butts that were, allegedly, Yuji’s.  They’d never admitted to it, preferring to turn the other cheek.  But those of us in the community knew that it was either one of them or all three conspiring to moon the whole town.

Megumi, ever quiet and taciturn, offers me a nonchalant wave.  The other two are varying levels of loud and touch-feely, but a flying tackle or two are always welcomed.  I laugh out loud as Yuji lifts me up and spins me like Takuma had done earlier.

“You’re back!  Tell me all about the city!  I wanna know about the new subway system; is it as cool as I think it is?!”  His words come out so fast that I can barely hear them, let alone answer.

“Let her speak, you dolt!”  Nobara exclaims. Beaning the pink-haired teen in the back of his head with a wadded up food wrapper.  “And besides, she’s going to answer my questions first.  Ladies always go first!”

“What lady?” Yuji deadpans.

And chaos ensues.

I sidle up to Megumi while the other two bicker and banter.  “How’s Tsumiki doing?” I ask him quietly, and the boy barely gives me a side glance before turning his attention to the phone in his hand.

“She’s better,” he finally answers, voice quiet.  “The doctors think this treatment will work.  But you know her, she’s hopeful.  Like she always is.”

I offer him a smile and nod.  That’s good to hear.  Tsumiki always was a ray of sunshine, even when she’s been a kid.  She’s definitely the responsible one out of all these younger kids.

After a few minutes of updating all of the kids and hearing all of their wacky adventures—nor pranks, definitely not—Takuma and I finally managed to break away.  I turn around and blow Nobara aplayful kiss as we make our escape.  But before she can catch it, Yuji snags the invisible gesture of affection out of the air.

And that sparks a whole new conflict between the two hotheads.  I catch a brief glimpse of a hand fisted in Nobara’s brilliant auburn hair just before somebody is suplexed into the ground.

My home is a little way from the village.  It’s a fifteen-minute walk outside of town, which is spent going over new things I’d discovered of the last few months: artists, songs, movies.  I talk with my hands excitedly while Takuma wheels my suitcase behind him, occasionally hitting a rut in the gravel pathway.

He shares, too.  Apparently, Akari has taken a particular liking to Ska and Rockabilly music.  Takuma is… less enthusiastic about it, and has effectively banned it in the house.  This is, from how he describes it, their first real fight as a couple.

I’m so proud of them!  Another milestone reached!

“Ma’s been keeping the place clean, so it shouldn’t be dusty or have any spiders.  But she says you’ll have to take the plastic covers off the furniture.  She was worried about moths.”

Honestly, Mayu is such a saint.  I love that woman!

“When is she going to let me pay her for her housekeeping work?”

Takuma lets out a doubtful puff.  “Like she’d ever ask for payment.  She’d be offended if you brough it up, honestly.  You’re family, and that’s what family does.”

“I’ll pay her back someday.”

“Ah.  Almost there,” he says, changing the subject, then picks up the pace.

My summer home rests along the shore, as it always does.  The dock attached to it reaches out over the ocean in a long arm, visible from far away.  Only the tip of the wooden structure is in sight right now.  As we turn into the little inlet and crest the hill, the whole place is revealed.  It looks as homely as ever, with its bright yellow siding and white trim.

When we reach the porch steps, I turn to him.

“Well, we’re here,” I announce redundantly.  “Thanks for walking me to my door.  You’re grown into such a gentleman.”  Takuma blushes lightly under my teasing and dodges an obnoxious cheek pinch.

He’s almost too tall to harass now.  I wonder when he’ll stop growing.

“Any plans tonight, Sis?”

“Let’s see…,” I pretend to think it over, pointer finger tapping against my chin.  “I had planned on a ritual sacrifice to Cthulu later.  Followed by an hour or two of potatoing the couch.  Then a mini coma, because travelling so far is draining.”

He laughs at my dramatics.

“Well, Ma wants to have you over for dinner tonight, if you’re able to find time in your busy schedule.  Think you’re up for it?” Takuma asks.  “She’s missed you, y’know?”

Mayu had practically taken my sister and I in after our parents had passed away.  I love the woman like my second mom, even though we aren’t blood related.  She’s one of the people that I’d missed the most, to be honest.  Things in the city weren’t the same—not without the patented bone-crushing Ino hugs and piles of homecooked foods.

I offer Takuma a sweet smile.  “Of course!  Just let me know when you guys want me to show up.”

“Ah, just whenever.  You know Ma; she’d say you’re welcome to come over any time.  We usually eat a little earlier on days that I’m out to sea.  But I’d imagine tonight’s food’ll be on the table around six.”

“Five-thirty it is, then!  Sounds like a blast!”

He leaves me, too.  And I wave at his figure long after he’s disappeared around the bend.

And I turn back to look up at my familiar retreat.  God, I missed this place.  I do every time I leave.  Maybe this is the year that I call college quits and return to the village for good?  Maybe I would, if I had a future here.  I’d like to stay.

This is my home.

The house had once belonged to my parents.  When they’d passed, I’d inherited it and the land that it sits on.  It’s not a magnificent coastal chateau by any means, but it’s cozy and warm.  The little beachfront home is two bedrooms and a shared living area.  When I stay, I usually take Mom and Dad’s old bedroom.  It has the sliding door that goes directly out onto the deck.

My sister usually takes our old room when she’s here… unless she’s too busy falling asleep on the plush couch in the living room.

I peek into my old bedroom for a moment, lamenting the fact that I’m staying here alone this time around.

The room is so small.  It’s crazy to think that I’d once shared this space with another person.  Now, it hardly feels large enough to accommodate just myself.  Of course, I’d been a lot smaller when my sister and I had to room together.  Now that it’s just me, I can’t help but wonder how neither of us managed to kill each other.

So many toes stepped on and so, so much privacy invaded.

That reminds me…  I open my phone and send her a text.

[The Gremlin] Me: Big Bird has landed in the nest.  Hope everything is going well on your end! Gremlin: Big bird?  Oof cringe Gremlin: Lololol miss you lots cringe and all Gremlin: The shack still standing? praise cthulu

I roll my eyes at her weirdness.  We usually meet up for Summer break, but she’s backpacking across some foreign country with her new man.  Apparently, this one has money.  I’d admonish her for being a gold digger, but I admire her grind.

Still, it feels odd.  This is my first year back without her in tow.

[The Gremlin] Me: Shack still standing.  It feels empty without you here.  We need to meet up next year!  Don’t ditch me again, I don’t care how cute your new boyfriend is! Gremlin: But hes very very cute :3 Me: Don’t care.  You can ditch him for your favorite big sister. Gremlin: Only big sister :P

I smile at the screen and leave our old room behind.

With my arrival out of the way, I can finally unpack.  There’s not much in my suitcase: some clothes, necessities, and a sketchpad for when my muse appears.  It’s a snap to out it all in its proper place, especially given that I’ve been doing this same song and dance for years.

I know where everything goes, and could unpack in my sleep.

There are indeed plastic covers all over the furniture, and I take great glee in pulling them off as they rattle like cellophane ghosts.  The covers get crammed into the front closet, where I can forget about them until I leave.

Despite the lack of dust and cobwebs—again, I mentally praise Mayu—there’s a stuffiness in the air that no amount of cleaning can remove.  It’s the sort of heavy air that accumulates where nobody has lived for a while.

To combat it, I throw open all of the windows and doors.  The sea breeze will chase it all away, I think.

And while I give the house time to air out, I pull a granola bar from my suitcase and go out to the deck.

The deck has been updated since the summer before.  It was probably getting to be a safety hazard, I think to myself abashedly.

The problem boards had been replaced at some point.  Old formerly rotten parts of the deck are now a much lighter, newer wood that’s been sealed against the elements.  The bits that’d once been soft underfoot are firm once more.  I no longer feel like I’m traversing a field of land mines, waiting for the inevitable misstep that causes my foot to go through a particularly bad spot.

The long reach of the dock is less intimidating than it’d been when I was a child.  It’d once felt like it stretched a mile into the sea.  Now, it’s just a short walk until I reach the end.  Shuffling off my sandals and rubbing my sore heels, I plonk down at the very edge.  The coolness of the water caresses the red-hot soles of my feet.  My sterling silver ankle bracelets reflect the light of the sun like fish scales.

It’d been a bad idea to wear new shoes, I admonish myself.

I kick out absentmindedly, sending ripples of water out to sea.  The ocean is calm right now, but I know that it can get rough.  I sigh and tilt my head back, basking in the midday sun.  I’d jump in to cool off, if I didn’t know any better.

The water around the village isn’t good for swimming.  The surf and spray are rough at the best of time.  It’s good for sports and the like, but human bodies are too likely to get tossed around or pulled out to sea in a riptide.

The cove that my little home rests on is one of the more dangerous areas, with the tidal pools that have formed here creating all manner of crazy currents when the tide changes.  I’d been scared away from taking a dip here time and time again when I was just a kid.

Now, I know better.  Only my feet in the water, or Dad will claw himself out of his grave just to berate me.

It’s so quiet out here, with only the waves to keep me company.  I let out a low hum—a song from very, very far in the past.  It’s what Mom used to sing to my sister and I when we were small.  I only remember parts of the words now, but the tune is forever ingrained into my soul.

Then another sound joins my lament: a low, haunting wail.

“A dolphin?” I ask under my breath.  Whatever it is, it sounds close.  Or it’s very, very loud.

And as its beautiful cry dies off, I sing back to it a little louder.

Again, it calls to me.  And this time, we harmonize.  The mysterious sea creature and I engage in a duet that nobody will ever believe.  My low, out-of-key vocalizations are bolstered and uplifted by the incredible cry that it accompanies.  It sounds… good.  I open my mouth wider and sing the little bits of Mom’s lullaby that I can remember, and I’m matched word for word by a song so heartbreakingly lovely that it gives me chills.

It sounds so lonely.

I wonder if it’s an orca that lost its pod?

The song eventually falls silent, and I’m left gaping at the serene indigo waters in front of me.

In a fit of spontaneity, I stand up and cup my hand to the sides of my mouth to call out to the poor beast.  “That was beautiful!” I praise.  And I think I might hear a faint chirp in the distance.

Wow, I think.  I need to tell somebody about this!  This is so cool!  Of course, nobody would ever believe me… unless I record it!

But I didn’t bring my phone out here with me, I note with a huff.

Guess the once-in-a-lifetime moment will remain little more than a memory.

I sigh, humming under my breath once more.  My companion doesn’t join in.  They’ve probably gone away, scared by my human calls.  Oh well.  It’s still a beautiful day.

“I’ll have to bring my sketchpad out,” I tell myself.  “Maybe I’ll find something to paint while I’m here?”

Maybe my sea friend will come back and show itself?  I tingle with excitement at the thought.  I hope they come back, just so I can see them.  I bet they’re just as breathtaking as their song had been.

When I look down, I notice that one of my ankle bracelets has slipped off.  The cheap clasp probably broke on it.  Oh well, I think.  It’s not the first thing that the ocean has stolen from me, and it won’t be the last.

Then I jolt when I remember something important.

“Oh, crap!  I need to get ready for dinner!”

My first night is tranquil.  For once, I don’t fall asleep to the buzzing of cars outside of an apartment window.  There are no noisy neighbors banging on walls, no sounds of music played far too loud in the wee hours of the morning.  There’s only the soft sound of the ocean to lull me into a deep, restful slumber.

The morning dawn filters through my curtains, lighting up my room with hues of fire red and golden yellow.  It’s early, I think blearily.  Much earlier than I’d have gotten up in the city.  But things are different here in my hometown.

It makes me wonder why I go back to the city, honestly.

I pull myself out of bed with the promise of coffee, and tug on an old oversize t-shirt of Dad’s.  It’s one of the few mementos that I keep from him that I actually use.  The threadbare fabric is soft against my sleep-sensitive skin.  It’s like being wrapped up in a familiar hug.  Sometimes, I like to imagine that it still smells like him.

And then I wonder if I’m not a creep because of it.  But, hey, different people grieve in different ways.

My morning routine starts with a breakfast of slightly-burned toast and ends with a blissfully hot shower.  I spend extra time washing away the salt that sticks to everything by the ocean.  If I go too long without shampooing, my hair starts to lose its sheen, getting rough and dying out.

One of the downsides of oceanfront property—not that there are many.

When I’m clean and fed, I slide open the door to my bedroom and step out onto my deck.  Steam swirls above the mug of coffee in my hand.  I plop down into one of the wicker chairs that are perched on the deck.  Years of exposure to the sun and surf have left them more than a little washed out, but it just makes them all the cozier.

They have character, awkward lumps and all.  I bring my cup up to blow away some of the heat, eyes scanning the ocean in front of me.  It’s ruby red with the light of the sky above, except for the thin sliver of golden where the horizon and great body of water meet.  I’ll need to take a picture so I can paint it later.  Watercolors, maybe?  With gold leaf for the accents in the clouds?

That’d be pretty.

I guess majoring in art is useful after all.  Sometimes.

Mayhaps.

Laughing at myself, I look over the water again, trying to see if maybe my friend from the day before has returned.  I’d hadn’t told the Ino family about my encounter earlier, worried that Mayu and Takuma would insist on coming over to see my new friend.  But I want to keep them to myself for just a little bit longer.  I look and I look, then I sigh in disappointment.  Alas, no creatures are lurking in the surf that I can spot.  Of course, the water is deceptively deep, even close to my dock.  It’d be hard to see anything in six or more feet of water.

And speaking of dock… something catches my eye, and I squint trying to see.

Is that…?  I can’t quite make it out.

Placing my coffee down on the glass table nearby, I haul myself up to go take a closer look.

“Seashells?” I whisper when I reach the edge, where the wood disappears into water.

Five innocuous shells sit perfectly in a row.  They hadn’t been washed up naturally, by the looks of things.  No, they were placed far too deliberately.  And they’re perfect, I note.  They’re the right shape, size, and color to be considered pretty.  Not a single flaw mars their delicate edges.

“Wow,” I breathe.  I’d used to collect shells when I was younger, I remember.  But they’d always been pummeled into the rocks by the waves, covered in chips and scrapes.  These look like they were plucked right off of the seabed.

Of course, the next logical line of questioning is who the hell left these here in the first place?

My mind immediately goes to Takuma and his early-morning shell collecting for his mom.  Had he left these here for me before going to work?  A smile pulls at my lips.  That’s so damn thoughtful of him.  Of course, he’s always been a softie with a considerate streak a mile wide.

I’ll have to thank him later, I think to myself.

My phone buzzes in my pocket and I pull it out to check the notifications.

Clicking open my social media tab, I unlock the picture that was sent.  My sister.  She’s the centerpiece of a selfie, with a massive mountain in the background.  Ah.  She must be rock climbing right now.  That sounds… cold.  She certainly looks bundled up in a thick winter parka with fur trim.

She looks so happy.  God… I miss her so much.  There’s a pang in my chest.

In response, I send her a picture of myself, glorious sunrise my backdrop.  And when I click back onto the photo, I notice something behind me.  I squint.

There, in the distance, is a tail breaking through the water.

The next day, I receive more shells.

And again, the day after that.

I get them every morning, before the sun rises.  It’s nice.  If not a bit much.

Takuma is out on his boat by the time I get up, so I don’t have time to ask him about it.  And, honestly, I keep forgetting anyway.  It’s not like it’s a big deal or anything.  It’s just… odd.  Then again, Takuma has always been a bit odd.  Pretty much everybody in the village is, if I’m being honest.

Sometimes, I hear my friend singing in the cove.  Their vocals are just as beautiful as I remember them being.  I sit on the end of the dock and hum along with them, harmonizing and enjoying the peace that the presence brings.

It feels like a call that I’m answering, like I’m talking to them.  It’s amazing!

I consider putting the singing on video, but there’s something about the experience that I want to keep to myself.  It’s strange, being so possessive of a dolphin—or whatever they are—but I feel like if I share them, then some sort of powerful spell will be broken.  What if they leave and never return?

So, it’s our little secret.

The trip into town is a hop and a skip compared to my commute in the city had been. 

I wave by people as I pass them, elbowing my way through the afternoon crowd.  The village might not be populated heavily, but there’s always a large congregation when the fishing vessels start returning.  Most come by to help unload the large catches and put them on ice until they can be shipped off.  Of course, there is a good portion of older folk that just enjoy being voyers to the whole process, watching rather than lending a hand.

By the time I arrive, most of the fuss has already gone down.  Takuma’s boat is smaller, so it holds less than the others he goes out to sea with.  And that means that he's usually unloaded much faster.

I find him sitting with Akari at one of the smaller, more secluded docks.  They’re in the middle of discussing something about boat engines with their usual enthusiasm.  Takuma has a wet towel slung over the back of his neck, probably to suck up the heat of a sunburn.  He never wears sunscreen, no matter how many times his mother and sister verbally batter him.

It’s a wonder he hasn’t turned into bacon yet.

“Good evening, Takkun!” I chirp and offer him a bottle of water from my sack of goodies.  Looks like stopping off at the convenience store had been a good idea after all.  “Thirsty?”  I shake the bottle in invitation, only to have it snatched from me.

“You’re a lifesaver, Sis!  I swear, you’re too good to me!”  I think he’s actually crying as he slams the water back like it’s a shot of whiskey.

“Heya,” I offer to Akari.  “Busy day, you two?”

Takuma shakes his head.  “No, actually.  The fish aren’t wanting to come, I guess.”  His brown eyebrows furrow into a frustrated line.  “I came away with a pretty small haul.  But that’s not just my luck; everybody had the same problem.”

“It’s been a problem for a few days now, actually,” Akari chimes in.  “Some of the others were talking about it while I was fixing up their rig.”

“it happens from time to time,” Takuma says wearily.  “There’s probably something in the water scarin’ em.  I’m guessing it’s a shark.  Or there’s something messed up about the chemical balance around here.  They’re sensitive to that sort of thing.”

At ‘shark’, I feel my palms start to sweat.  My friend could be the culprit.  Oops.  “O-or maybe it’s a dolphin?” I suggest, though it sounds more like a question.

But I get waved off immediately.  “Nah.  It’d be a bigger predator.  Something meaner.  Besides, dolphins rarely travel alone.  We’d have noticed a whole pod of them.”

“What if one is alone?”

Takuma shrugs and goes back to chugging like his life depends on it.

“In the meantime, this could be a good opportunity to do some work on the old girl,” Akari says, pointing down the line at Takuma’s vessel.  “She needs a tune up.  Bad.  The engine sounds terrible.  If everybody else wasn’t having trouble, I’d blame the sound for your bad luck.”  She eyes him pointedly.

“There are some barnacle shells that I still have to scrape off—”  I completely miss what he says next as I zone out.  But the word sparked something in my memory.

Shells… shells.  Oh, right!  Shells!

I linger on that line of conversation, letting their words wash over me as they go over the logistics of boat maintenance—a topic which I am very sorely lacking experience with.  I sit in silence and share some of the buns I’d picked up at the convenience store.  They aren’t Mayu’s home cooking, but Takuma tears into his like a ravenous monster.  We chat about other things here and there, mostly debating the existence of sea monsters.  And when they take an extended break to enjoy the encroaching sunset, I pipe up.

“Hey, Takkun!  I was wondering where you found those all those seashells this morning.”

The young man turns to look at me with confusion in his whiskey brown eyes.  “What shells?” He asks.

The ones he’d left on the end of my dock before I’d gotten up?  The ones that I’d been receiving for nearly a week straight?  Those shells.  But, looking at the way his face scrunches like he just licked a lemon, he has no clue what I’m talking about

Huh.  Weird.

“I just figured they were from you, since you go out and beachcomb for your mom’s jewelry.  But if it’s not you, it must be somebody else in the village.  They’re always there first thing in the morning, though, so it’s an early riser leaving them.”

Takuma lets out a hum of thought.  “It could be Yuji or Nobara.  They’re always going for morning runs along the water.  Strange, though.  They usually go past our house.”

On the other side of town.  That’s quite the deviation from their usual run, if so.  Maybe they changed things up since I’m back for the summer?  They never had in previous years, if I remember correctly.  Yuji is pretty habit-driven, since he tends to hyperfixate to an extreme degree.  I doubt he’d want to shake up his routine too much.

Even then, the rambunctious teens don’t really seem like the type to spend time looking for delicate seashells, just to leave them as gifts on my property.  They’d probably break them in their excitement.  Maybe Megumi would have a gentle enough touch, but he’s a notoriously late riser.

“I dunno…” I murmur, unsure.  “Does that seem like Nobara or a Yuji thing to do?”

“No, but they’re wildly unpredictable on the best of days.”

That… is an understatement.

“Or maybe you have a secret admirer,” Akari suggests, turning the line of questioning away form the unruly teens.  “Maybe he’s shy and doesn’t want anybody to know he’s interested, so he sneaks in to leave you gifts just before dawn.”  She lets out a sigh.  “That’d be so romantic!”

I roll my eyes.  “Yeah.  Right.  It’s probably one of the retirees with too much time on their hands.  I bet it’s that old man who used to run the bakery—what’s his name?  He was always down by the water when I saw him.”

“Old Man Gakuganji?  Nah.  He passed away last year.”

I wince at my blunder.  “Oof,” I state.

“Yeah.  Big oof,” Akari agrees sagely.  “No, but seriously, you might have somebody crushing on you.  I think Kento was sweet on you for a bit.”

“Nanami?” Kento Nanami’s parents had been friends with mine.  Our dads had gone out fishing together.  He’s a bit older than I am, but a pretty nice guy… if not a bit emotionally constipated.  “I thought he moved to the big city.  He’s a businessman or something, right?”

He hadn’t wanted to keep fishing in what he considered to be a dying town.  Not that I blame him; this life isn’t for everybody.  That’s why I’d moved, too.

Akari nods.  “Yuu Haibara is still here, though.  And Kiyotaka Ichiji.  Let’s see…”  She places a finger up to her lips in thought.  “There’s also Shoko Ieiri.  She runs the clinic now, but she’s still single and ready to mingle.”

I raise my eyebrow at her.  “Why is everybody you’re suggesting so much older than I am?” I ask dryly.

Takuma pipes up.  “Because we know you,” he answers blithely.

And, yeah… they’re not wrong.

“Daddy Kink,” Akari jokes, waggling her brows in my direction.  And I let out a faux outraged cry as I shove my hand over her mouth.

“Be silent, wench,” I growl in my most threatening voice—only slightly broken by the giggles threatening to burst from my chest.  She starts laughing behind her impromptu gag, clearly not intimidated by my show in the slightest.  And she tries to pry me off of her, but she’s giggling too hard to make any proper moves.  Not that I’m any better, cackling like a witch and falling over myself in an effort to wrangle her into submission.

Takuma tries to break us up as we start wrestling. 

In the heat of the moment, I almost forget that I have no idea where the seashells came from.

Almost.

My friend calls to me again in the morning.

And I… I can’t quite bring myself to call back.  After all, what if this creature is the reason the fish are gone?  I might be the thing keeping it here.  It seems silly to think about, but it’d returned day after day to sing with me.  And now I can’t help but wonder if it’d formed some sort of attachment.  At the end of the day, it’s a wild animal.  I can’t keep it for myself, no matter how much I enjoy its presence.

It hurts my heart to hear the lonely creature cry out with no response.  I sit in bed, hands over my hears, and stare down at my bedspread.  It calls for hours, far after the sun has risen high in the sky.

If it’s a dolphin without its pod, I hope it finds them soon.

But I’m not a dolphin, so it needs to leave.  It needs to be with its own kind.

To escape the desolate wailing, I walk up to the hill overlooking town.  And I spend hours with my sketchbook perched in my lap, drawing the faint outlines of the buildings that dot the landscape.  I jot in the shadows of boats on the water.

Maybe I’ll bring a full-size canvas next time and really go all out with my acrylic paints.  But, for now, the distraction of putting a pen to paper is enough.  I hope that by the time I go back, the poor creature will have moved on.  Maybe without me there to confuse it, it’ll realize that it’s in the wrong place and go looking for its family somewhere else?

I stay up on that hill for hours.  Up until the sun starts to set.  I’ve filled out four pages of doodles y the time that my phone interrupts my daze.  I light up when I see that it’s Akemi calling.  She’s always so busy with her schoolwork that it’s a rare treat to talk with her.

If course, she’s probably using me to check up on her brother.

Not that I mind too much.  I love the Ino family to the moon and back.

I answer the call with a smile on my face.

Night’s darkness is a blanket cast over the tiny village.  It swathes everything, diluted only by the gentle light of the half-swollen moon, which drifts in a lazy arc overhead.  The stars twinkle vibrantly against their deep indigo backdrop.

It’s peaceful, soothing.

Like something out of a dream.

I’d dusted off the cover of my hot tub, deciding to break it out to help me relax.  Turns out that the idea had been amazing.  I give myself a mental pat on my back.  The water isn’t turned up to full temp, but it’s warm enough to wring the tension right out of my muscles.  I hadn’t soaked in this in close to four years.  If anything, this is my sister’s favorite part of the house.

I’d never really been a fan, preferring the end of the dock and the cool water of the cove.  But now I see what she’s so crazy about.

The tub has a picture-perfect view of the sky above and the ocean stretching past the horizon.  I watch, content, as the silver moonlight caresses the ripples of the waves as they rush ashore.  The heat brings a heady rush to my head, heating my cheeks better than any alcohol ever could.  Steam rises above the surface, condensing on my eyelashes and the fine peach fuzz that decorates my skin.

I wiggle my toes and let out a delighted sigh.  Sink further into the welcome embrace of the water.

Perfection, I think as I let my eyelids drift closed.  The back of my head knocks against the pillow behind me.

The sigh morphs into a hum—Mom’s lullaby.  I hum the disjointed tune, letting it ebb and flow with the waves on the beach.  My hands come up to grasp at the edges of the tub, sloshing water over the edges.  The drip, drip, drip of the droplets hitting the ground is rhythmic.  It becomes part of my little song.

Below me, it almost sounds like the ocean is humming back.  The sound vibrates in my ears at a frequency that I almost can’t hear.  It throbs in my chest, along with the sluggish beat of my heart.  The water of the tub laps at my body like the waves at the shore below.

The ocean’s song grows louder in my peripheral senses until it eclipses everything else.

I don’t even notice when I start drifting off.

Deeper and deeper I sink into relaxation.

Until I’m on the cusp of sleep.

Or maybe I’m already teetering over the edge of a dream.

There’s a series of sensations that make my eyes clench tighter: the brushing of something against my forehead, a tickling against the tip of my nose, the puffing of cool air against the bow of my lips.  I stir in my sleep, perturbed by the disturbance.

I let out a low whine and try to fall back into oblivion.

The sensations draw back until I settle once more.  Then they return more firmly.  Cool skin presses against my own as a cheek brushes along mine, gently, reverently.  Shuddering breaths taunt the sensitive skin behind my ear and along my jawline.

It feels hazy—like experiencing everything through a gaussian blur.  I can’t quite focus on any one thing.  It’s too hard to lift my heavy body.  Sleep paralysis, I think.

This must be a dream.   It has to be.

Then there’s a smooth voice murmuring into my ear.  The vibrations almost tingle.  I feel it down to the tips of my toes. It’s a man, I think.  One that I’ve never heard before—that’s a voice I’d recognize no matter what.  It’s so incredibly beautiful.

“You didn’t come when I called.  I was worried,” the presence seems to almost be scolding me.  I’d laugh at this weird dream manifestation if I could move.

There’s a beat.

“You shouldn’t sleep like this, you know; you could drown.  You humans are terrifyingly fragile.”  A chuckle follows the statement, trails off and fades into the sounds of the waves from below.

A dream.

Just a dream.

I sigh, leaning into the sweet touch.  My dreamlike phantom nuzzles at the place where my shoulder and neck meet.  The soft tickling comes again.  It lingers against my chin, leaving moisture in its wake.  Hair, I think.  Wet.  Cold.

It’s such a contrast from the heat of my bath that I shiver.

What I think are fingers trace the immodest lines of my naked form.  They start at the just of my collarbones, then move with curious slowness down the valley of my breasts.  Are they really fingers, though, when they feel so sharp-tipped and rough?  My dreamy visitor circles around my bellybutton, retracting when I tense.  Then he presses his palm against the curve of my stomach, just below my navel.  I feel him shiver.

“You’re so warm, so soft,” he remarks lightly.  It sounds fond.  His nose nudges against me more insistently, and I unconsciously lean back to give him more space.  There’s a pleased rumble, not unlike the purr of a big cat.  Then my visitor’s breath centers on my sluggish pulse point, his mouth yawning wide and something jagged and dangerous pressing against the most vulnerable part of me.

Predator, my mind screams behind the wall of dreamy incoherence.

I want to wake up now, I think.  But I can’t.  I’m like a diving bell at the bottom of the ocean.  There’s only darkness around me, only weight holding me down.

Then he pulls back.

The scratchy pads of his fingers linger on my tummy for a moment before they too retreat.

“You should wake up now,” the phantom advises as he plants a lingering kiss to the place he’d just had between his jaws.  “It’s dangerous out here.”

The mystery man’s presence pulls away, but doesn’t entirely leave.  I still feel him nearby.  That rough hand of his reaches out to cup my cheek.  He’s so very, very tender as his thumb wipes away the condensation from my skin.

Just like that, he’s gone.

The haze in my mind vanishes at the abrupt splash nearby, and I jolt back awake.  All of my senses return to me in a thunderous clap of sight, sound, touch, taste, and smell.  Whatever fog had descended is lifted.  Pressing a hand against my heaving chest, I push to sit up in the hot tub.

That… didn’t feel like a dream.

That felt so terribly real.

Gasping, choking, shaking, I peer over the rim of the tub, searching for evidence that my nighttime visitor had really come and gone.

There are wet footprints leading in a neat trail across the dock.  Until they disappear at the edge of the ocean.

There’s only the sound of the waves—ever ebbing and flowing—and my panicked breaths.

My dolphin friend is completely silent today.  It’s a detail that I barely notice as I book it for the harbor.

It’s still early enough that I can catch Takuma before he goes out to sea!

The youngest Ino sibling has waders on—colored bright orange for visibility—and his signature bandana covering his brown hair in preparation for work today.  I’ve caught him in the middle of loading up his gear, which takes even longer now that he’s a one-man crew.  Thankfully, his vessel is small enough to run with just a single person.  But that means he’s strapped for time and raring to get out to sea as early as possible.

He needs to get out and start casting his net before everybody else leaved the harbor and makes off with his money.  Especially with the fish seemingly becoming scarcer and scarcer.

Unfortunately, I have bigger worries.  Namely: my sanity.  I follow behind as he carts boxes onto his boat, trying to keep step as I tell him about what happened last night.  It feels ridiculous, telling him about the trancelike state I’d been in and the mysterious phantom who’d ghosted his way in and out of my life.

Of course, he doesn’t believe me at all.  Not that I blame him.  The story is pretty wild.

“I’m not lying, Takkun!”  I call out to my cousin’s retreating back.

The dock is busy this morning, awash with the hustle and bustle of people getting ready for a day at sea.  We have to bob and weave between the milling crowd.  I almost trip a couple of times in the dimness of the pre-morning light.  The sun is just barely peaking over the horizon as the final fleeting hours of twilight come to a close.  With perfectly clear skies on the radar, the fishing bodes to be fruitful.

It’d be the perfect start to a day, had I slept at all the night before.

“There was somebody on my dock last night!” I exclaim.  Then I realize just how public this conversation is and lower my voice, trying not to alert all the others nearby.  “Please believe me!  I’m freaking out, here!”

Takuma stops abruptly, and I almost collide with his back.  The younger man turns around to look at me, his brown eyes skeptical.  He sighs, runs a hand through his unruly hair.  It’s getting long, I notice.  The strands almost touch his shoulders.  I should cut it soon.

“It’s not that I think you’re lying, Sis.  I’m sure you think you saw something.  But you said it felt like a dream.  Let me get this straight…  So, this random guy—whose voice you don’t recognize, despite living in a village with less than a hundred people—just waltzes up to your house, talks to you for a bit, then jumps into the ocean?  And you couldn’t move the whole time?  I dunno.  Sounds like a dream to me.”

“There were footprints leading down the dock,” I hiss.

“Maybe you were sleepwalking again and they were yours.”

I growl at him in frustration.  “That was one time, and I was five, Takkun!  I haven’t sleepwalked in years.  There was really somebody creeping around the house!”  I hold his gaze.  “It really freaked me out, okay?  So, can you please come by and check it out when you get off work?”

“You know I have a date tonight, Sis.  I can’t just blow her off to go looking for monsters under your porch.  I mean, it’s our two-year anniversary.”

Right.  His date with Akari.  I completely forgot.

“Please, Takkun?  Please, just come over for a few minutes.  Then you can leave, okay?”

His demeanor softens at my sincerity.  And he rubs the back of his neck, where days spent working outside in the sun have tanned his skin.

“Fine, fine,” he agrees resignedly.  “I’ll swing by and see if I can’t catch your sea monster.”  My shoulders lift as weight disappears from them.  “But you have to take me out to dinner tomorrow as repayment.”

“That’s totally okay with me!  You’re the best!  Thank you, Takkun!” I chirp, planting a kiss on his cheek, which he frantically tries to rub off like we’re children again and I have cooties.

It’s not four hours later that my cousin keeps his promise to investigate my home.  He arrives windblown from operating a boat, and covered head to toe in dried sweat and ocean spray.  I greet him at my front door, then lead him to my private dock.

While I recount what’d happened the night before, he kneels down and looks at the tub like he’s trying to put an image to my words.  The footprints have long since dried, but I remember exactly where they were.  I point out the path that my mysterious visitor had taken, right up to where he’d jumped into the water.

“And you didn’t see a boat last night?” Takuma asks, peering into the water.

I shake my head.

He frowns.  “Well, you’re too far outside of town for somebody to swim to the dock.  Not to mention how dangerous it would’ve been with the tides coming in.  I doubt anybody would want to risk it just for a prank.  You have a pretty clear view of the ocean, too, so it’s unlikely that they escaped into the water without being seen.  They would’ve had to come up for air at some point.  Unless they had gills,” he adds sarcastically.

“The footprints led to and from the water, Takkun.  Whoever he was, he came and went by way of water.  Like the Creature from the Black Lagoon.”

Takuma nods like he’s taking in all the information and analyzing it.

“Okay, so we know it’s a he.  You said you didn’t recognize the voice, right?  Then it’s unlikely it was somebody from the village.  And there are no strange visitors staying at the inn.”  The young fisherman crosses his arms as he stares me down.  “So, who could it have been?”

“I have no idea,” I confess, throat tight.

He sighs, scratching the short stubble at his chin.  “I can stay the night tonight, if that’ll make you feel better.  But I really think that you need to consider that this was just a dream.”

Maybe he’s right.  I mean, nothing about the whole situation makes any sense.  A mysterious stalker climbing out of the ocean and putting me under some sort of spell—what am I?  Eight?

God, I feel stupid, letting my imagination run wild with me.  I called him away from his date prep for this.  The heels of my palms dig into my eyes like I’m trying to rub away the afterimages of my wild nightmare last night.

“I’m sorry, Takkun,” I mutter.  “I don’t mean to be a pain.  Honest.”

“You’re not a pain, Sis.  I get that you were freaked out, but it was just a dream.”  He walks over to me, places his hands on my shoulders.  Takuma’s warmth and weight are reassuring.  He gives me a comforting squeeze, offering me a smile.  “Hey, I know you were scared, but it’s okay.  I can come over after the date, maybe stay the night?  No boogeymen will try anything with me guarding you!”

I shake my head, reaching up to pat one of his large hands.  “No.  I’m fine now.  I’d hate to take you away from Akari.  Especially on such an important night.”

“If you’re sure…”

“I am.  Now go get ready.  Take a shower, Takkun.  You smell like fish, and that won’t get you laid tonight.”

My cousin sputters, turning several different shades of red at once.  He jerks away like I’ve burned him all while I cackle like a madwoman at his discomfort.  Oh, he’s too easy to fluster.

Takuma leaves after trying to rearrange my ribs with the force of his bear hug.

And he returns in the middle of the night with some of his mother’s homemade fried chicken and an arm full of movies, still wearing some of his nicer clothes.  I ask him how his date went, and he tells me about going out to eat with Akari at some fancy place an hour away.  The two lovebirds had followed up dinner with a tour of the botanical gardens.  He uses his whole body to illustrate just how big and beautiful some of the plants were, and brings out his phone to show me when words won’t do it justice.

I feel so very, very bad for pulling him away from his night out.

But when I apologize, he waves me off.  “Akari understands.  She sends her love,” is all he has to say before I pull him into a hug that’s almost strong enough to compete with his.

He and his girlfriend are so unwaveringly good that it hurts sometimes.

My adopted cousin and I spend the rest of the evening in contented silence, watching some endearingly bad sci-fi B-movie from the sixties.  He lets my head rest against his shoulder, keeping a strong arm hooked over me.  And when he starts to drift off, his cheek comes to rest against my temple.

I wake up the next morning with a crick in my neck and Takuma gone.  But I feel a lot better than I had.

Takuma left a note on my fridge, I realize when I get up to reheat the leftover chicken.

‘Lock your door tonight.  I’ll come by later to check on you.  P.S. Give Micchan a call.  She’s being a freak.’  Eyeing the sloppy words on the ruled paper, I let out a little chuckle.  ‘Micchan’ and ‘Takkun’ are both freaks.  Akemi and Takuma are both such worrywarts.

Though, in this case, it seems pretty justified.

Maybe the other night was really just a dream, I think.  Maybe I’m just working myself up over nothing.

But I’m not so sure.

The next day, I treat Takuma to dinner, as agreed upon by our terms for him staying the night.  Of course, ‘dinner’ is a whole sack of pork buns brought from the convenience store.  Not a bad meal, considering that the young man scarfs it down like it’s a king’s feast.

We’re on the roof of Mayu’s house, a place that I’d often found myself after the Ino family had taken my sister and I in.  Of course, that’d been years and years ago.  And now I feel like a dumb teenager again, hiding away from my problems where I feel they can’t find me.

“Akari isn’t missing you?” I ask my companion when he’s done cramming his mouth full of pork bun.  “I don’t want to keep you away from her two nights in a row.”

He shakes his head.  “Nah.  She had a late-night repair.  Besides, I said I’d come visit Ma, anyway.  You were just another addition, and the more the merrier!”

I snort at his upbeat nature.

Takuma stares up at the sky, planting his hands on the roof’s incline behind him and leaning back.  “You aren’t lonely, are you, Sis?  I mean, this is the first time you’re staying in that house without anybody else, and—”

“I’m fine,” comes my automatic response.  And I wince at how not fine I sound.  “Okay, I’m a little lonely.  But I’ll get used to it.”

“The nightmare says otherwise.  It was bad enough that you though it was real, and that’s concerning,” he points out, fixing a pretty stern look on me.  “Y’know, you can always stay with Ma.  Or there’s room with me and Akari.  You’re always welcome.”

“I know.  Thank you, Takkun.”

There’s a moment of silence.

“Do you think that’s why I had that bad dream?  Because I’m alone in the house for the first time?”

“Maybe.”  He shrugs.  “You can always ask Akemi about it; you know she’d love to shrink your head—tries to do it to me all the time.”

Benefits of having a psychologist-in-training big sister, I guess.  Maybe I’ll ask her what she thinks of it, just to see if she has any insight.  She’s always been smart and perceptive.  There might be something to all of this that I’m not seeing.

Maybe it was really all a dream…

Huh…

“Maybe I feel unsafe…”

“You could always try locking the door?”  he suggests.  “Might bring you some peace of mind.”

“Are you two done being moody?”  Comes a strong voice from the second floor balcony.  “If so, I could use your help moving the couch so I can vacuum beneath it.”

At that interruption, both of us turn to each other and let out a shared snicker.  Mayu, never change, I mentally beg her.  Her bluntness is exactly what I need right now.

“Got it, Ma!” Takuma calls back down to his mother.  “Be inside in a bit!”

“I guess we’re being summoned?”

“Seems like it.”

And cue the laughter a second time.

Takuma stands up and places his hand sin his pockets.  But he makes no move to climb down to the balcony below.  Instead, he gazes out at the dark water of the ocean.  His face is oddly solemn.  It’s so jarring, seeing him so melancholy.

I let the silence stretch between us, afraid of worrying him further.

Then he lets out a huff. “Y’know, it’s always nice when you come visit.  But if it’s too much then you can always go back to the city.  I know that’s where you want to be, anyway.”

I jolt.  “Wh-what gave you that idea?”

He shrugs.  “S’why you always go back, right?  I mean, I get it.  This town isn’t exactly the most lively.  And it’s got bad memories for you.  I understand if you wanna bail on this trip, especially since your sister isn’t here this time.”

I shake my head at his concern and reach out to tug on his shirt.  “I love this place, Takkun.  I only go back to the city because of school.”  Then I almost whisper the next part.  “But, honestly, I’m starting to reconsider if I want to go back again.  Maybe I should just drop out of college and come back.  Maybe I can work at the convenience store with Yuji and Nobara?  That’d be fun, right?”

I offer him a smile.  “There aren’t any painful memories here for me, Takkun, only good ones.”

“I want you to stay,” he says frankly.  And it’s enough to make me laugh.

“I want to stay here too, you goofball!  This is my home.  It will always be my home, no matter what.”

“Then why go back at all?”

Why, indeed?  I’d wondered that for years now.  I’d originally left because my sister was leaving the nest and I didn’t want to be in our parents’ house alone.  Not with the ghosts that’d haunted me during the early years without Mom and Dad.  Sure, we’d been staying with the Ino family during that time, but it was almost assured that I’d go back to the little yellow house in the cove eventually.

I’d left to grieve and learn to accept their deaths.  And maybe somewhere along the way, I’d convinced myself that I was better off in the city, where there was more opportunity.  Which is funny, come to think of it, because I’d never been the ambitious sort.  The truth is that I was running away.  And now that I’m not running, I have no clue why I’m still moving in that direction.

I miss this place so much when I’m away.

“I guess that I was just trying to prove something to myself, that I could finish school and become something more than I’ll ever be here.  But more and more, I’m looking for a reason to stay here.”  I look up at the sky above and ponder the stars.  “Maybe I just need to find contentment here.”

When I look over, the big crybaby had tears rolling down his cheeks and an adorable pout on his lips.  I pull him into a hug, patting his back as he sniffles into my hair.

“Takkun… you’re getting your boogers on me.”

He only cries harder.  I pat his back, burying my face into his shoulder.

He’s such a goober.

But he’s my goober.  My wonderful, thoughtful cousin.

Away from the warmth of Mayu’s home, I feel a little less at ease.

The lock to my door latches shut with a final click.  It’s the first time that I’ve ever locked it, the first time I’ve ever felt unsafe enough in my childhood home to really be afraid.  Outside, I can see the silvery light of the moon caressing the waves as they roll in.  Nobody’s out there.

At least, not that I can see.

Sleep comes to me in fitful bursts punctuated by my paranoid jumping at every little sound.  I don’t dream about mysterious men from the sea.

But I think I can hear a sad, sad song coming from the depths of the dark water.

When I wake up, there are no footprints outside of my door, but there are seashells scattered along my windowsills.  And I don’t think they’re form Nobara.  They’re an offering, I think.

The sight of them leaves me cold.  Because whatever thing has set its sights on me is still watching, still waiting.  I clutch my blanket around my shoulders to keep the shivers at bay and draw my curtains.  I’ll hide away inside, I think.

And I start packing my things to return home to my apartment in the city.

Maybe Takuma’s right.  Maybe I need to get away.  Just for a bit.

But something makes me reconsider.  I’m not sure what it is.  But it’s a feeling brewing deep in my gut, an instinctive feeling telling me that if I leave now, I’ll miss out on something important.  My suitcase sits in the corner, half-full but not zipped up.

I’ll stay.  Just for a bit, I think.  And, boy, do I feel like an idiot.

It takes another week for the paranoia to die down.

I’m always, always busy.

I’m rarely home, except to sleep.

During most of that time, I bounce between Takuma’s home with Akemi and Mayu’s house.  When I’m not bugging them, I find myself up on the hill working my way through my sketchbook.  It’s soothing for my frazzled nerves.  I distract myself with phone calls to Akemi, who uses the opportunity to deep dive into a lesson about trauma response with just a little too much enthusiasm.

When I’m not chatting with her, I exchange photos with my sister over private messaging.  She’s in a new place every day, it seems.  It’s nice seeing her have so much fun and go on adventures.  I’d be jealous if I weren’t such a homebody… or if I didn’t get airsick… or seasick.

I’ll forever be tormented with the fact that I was raised by the seashore and still get sick when on a boat.

Nobara occasionally stops in to bother me, usually tugging one of her boys along by the collar of their shirt.  She denies bringing me the shells, which makes me a bit uneasy.  But there still has to be an explanation, right?

I pull myself into knots trying to think about it rationally.

But the longer I spend without nightmares about strange men coming from the ocean, the more confident I get that it was a one-off.  It’s crazy to worry about that kind of stuff, right?  Like, there’s no way some bozo decided to brave the rocks just to mess with me.  That’s actually stupid.

Right?

I’m second guessing myself more and more, I find.

The shells stop appearing on my dock, and I don’t know whether to be relieved or scared.  So, I choose not to think about it at all.  After all, it’s probably not that big of a deal.  They’re just shells.  Nothing to be scared of.   I know every person in this village; none of them would ever hurt me.

Full stop.

It’s just a sweet gesture.  The person leaving them didn’t know that I’m currently in a downward spiral.

I also notice that my dolphin friend has finally stopped calling out to me, and I find that I’m more hopeful than sad at the development.  I hope that wherever they are, they aren’t alone anymore.  I sincerely hope that they’re found their family again, and are happy and safe.

It’s the one bright spot in my existential crisis.

But I’ll take what I can get.

I toss and turn, throwing off my blankets as the summer heat seems to get to me even past my air conditioner.  I feel… overly hot.

Clenching my eyes closed, I try to will myself into peaceful slumber.  And I hear it: a low, mournful wail.  A sad, sad sound that I know too well.

“Come to me”, I hear on the winds.  There’s a familiar hum thrumming in my chest.  It’s like the other night, I realize.  It’s like when I’d been in the hot tub.  The same gauzy, hazy feeling creeps over my senses like sweet-smelling smoke.

I drift somewhere, halfway between awake and asleep.

Getting up, I unlock my door, despite everything inside of me screaming that it’s a bad idea.  I open it with a slow glide.

And I walk.

My feet move of their own accord, led by some unknown compulsion.  Where they’re taking me, I have no clue—my eyes are closed.  I wander out the back door of my little home and down the dock.  Towards the ocean, I almost float.  Sand buckles beneath me as I hit the beach.  It scrunches between my bare toes, sticks to the places it touches like glue.

There are large rocks, too, digging in to the soft pads of my feet.  The momentary discomfort helps gound me.

Then the sand is washed away by water, waves lapping at the grains with each ebb and flow.

The ocean.

I’m in the ocean.

I must be dreaming, right?  I’m sleepwalking!

I tell myself to wake up, try everything to jolt myself into consciousness again.

I want to panic, want to scream and run away.  But my body, dancing to the tune of my own personal Pied Piper, doesn’t so much as twitch.  The underlying fear that I can’t swim is shoved aside for the greater terror that I can’t control myself.  I’m at some strange supernatural force’s mercy.

“Come to me,” I hear again, echoing on the tail end of a sad, sad sounding croon.

I hear splashing in front of me, like a great deal of water is being displaced.  My breath hitches, and I feel a scream clawing its way out of my chest.  There’s more splashing, like something is moving towards me.  It’s getting closer and closer.

This isn’t a dream.

This is real.

This is real, and there’s something coming for me.

I’m going to get eaten!

But before I can become overwhelmed by everything, I’m grounded by a warm, gentle touch.  A large hand, rough and a bit wet, settles on my cheek.  The presence in front of me lets out a soothing croon.

An inhuman sound, I think distantly.

There’s a sense of relief as I’m not immediately eaten by whatever the hell this creature is.

Then there’s a greater sense of surprise as a hot puff of air buffets my chin.  “My pretty mate,” a familiar masculine voice whispers with reverence. 

And then I’m being kissed.

Warm lips mold against mine.  They’re hungry, demanding, devouring.  My unseen lover is frantic, like he’s never been touched before and never will be again.  Hands grip my hips, pulling me against a strong body.  The fingers against my bare skin are rough, and the nails sharp like talons.  They brand my skin with their incredible heat.  Needing air, I arch away from the kiss.  Our lips disconnect, leaving a thing trail of saliva connecting us.  It’s messy.  Hot.  It feels like I’m burning up.

I’m getting dizzy.

Spiraling.

Down.

Down..

Down…

It’s too much.

There’s no air.  Or maybe I’m just not breathing anymore.

A hand tangles in my hair, pulls me into another all-consuming liplock.  The gasp that I let out is swallowed.  And in return, my lover lets out a rumble of satisfaction.  His mouth coaxes mine open.  The plushness of his pout parts to reveal a set of wickedly sharp teeth.

This is strange, right?  Teeth aren’t supposed to be sharp.  They’re supposed to be blunt and straight.  I run the tip of my tongue along them carefully, afraid of cutting myself on their jagged edges.

Nothing about this is normal, though.  I’m in the ocean, kissing some unknown man with passion I’ve never felt before.  Things are slowly clicking into place as the dreamlike fuzziness in my head clears a bit.  I pull away again, just in time to be swept away in another wave of kisses.  I’m gaining control over my body again, I think.  The tips of my fingers give an almost imperceptible twitch.

“Open your eyes for me,” comes the gentle command.  I oblige, blinking up at the moon overhead.  I crane my neck back down, taking in the man before me.  “There she is.  My good girl,” he praises me, and I tremble.

I can see him, now, the person that’s haunted these last few nights.  He’s… well… I wish I could say that he’s monstrous.  If anything, he’s so incredibly beautiful that I ache just looking at him.  The tone of his skin is pale as porcelain and flawless as far as I can see.  His hair is white, I note.  Like snow or clouds.  It’s slicked to the crown of his head from the water.  It’s long, like he’s never had a haircut in his life.  I note that it’s tied back with some sort of twine and threated through with shells and sea glass.

It’s his eyes that are the real centerpiece, though.  They’re so incredibly blue that they almost glow under the moonlight.

I shiver when they rake over my figure, taking in my sheer nightgown and bare legs.

He looks like any other athletic man from his head to his waist, I note.  But below that is where it becomes obvious that he’s not human.  I start to hyperventilate, gaze fixated on legs that are covered in patterned scales.  It’s too dark to see the color of them, but the swirling scales that twine up his waist are intricate.  He has a tail, too, my inner panic chimes in.  Like something halfway between a frog and a tadpole.

It’s an unflattering description for somebody so breathtaking.

But still…

Monster.

The dreamlike haze is swept away in the stormy winds of my mounting heartbeat.  He must sense my unease, because he’s quick to try to pacify me.

“It’s okay.  You’re safe.  I have you,” the man tries to cajole me.  He places his thumb under my chin, redirecting my attention back to his face.  “I won’t hurt you.  Never.”

I shake my head with a quick jerk.  I don’t believe him.  Not for a second.  Not when those teeth of his are meant for ripping and tearing, and not when I remember those same teeth clasped around the meat of my shoulder only a few nights prior.

Then I realize that I moved.  My body finally obeyed me.  To test it again, I will my fingers to twitch.  Whatever spell I’m under is rapidly fading.  That strange, syrupy feeling is rapidly being replaced by not fear, but anger.

Because how dare this fucking guy?!  How dare he stalk me?  How dare he invade the sanctity of my home and make me feel uneasy?  How dare he use some sort of messed up mind control to put the moves on me?

I’m suddenly wide awake and very much in control.

I boil over.  Pulling away out of his grasp, I put an arm’s length between us.  And the beautiful bastard watches with an awed look in those surreal blue eyes of his as I break free from his influence.  I want to slap him, I think, to knock that smitten look right off of his face.

So, I do.

It only takes an instant.

With my body finally obeying me, I reel back.  And I slap the strange fishman across the face.  The sound is sharp and vicious, given that our skin is wet.  Good.  I hope I leave a mark!

“What the hell do you want from me, you creep?!” my shriek echoes into the night.

[albatris]

rentalcar update!

it's been a hot minute since I did one of these!

today's word count is 75,595...... uh oh! "but it was over 100k a few weeks ago, monday!" yes my process is mysterious and unknowable

today I got a lot of work done due to the being at my friend's house where we just sit around and vibe together. I'm really happy with my progress!

today's mood is a severe lack of sleep and today's jam is "little lies you're told" by joywave

taglist and today's excerpt under the cut! it's jumbly and unedited sowwy

She settled on the couch and immediately sprawled herself out, bringing her legs up onto the cushions and cuddling right up to him, her head nestling down on his shoulder. Nat’s heart pounded in his chest in a rhythm he was certain she could hear. Was she coming onto him? What was this? Why was she so close?

The movie seemed to be about a zombie invasion of a small town in Pennsylvania, but Nat was finding it hard to pay attention. Partially tiredness from his night of work and the emotional stress he was under. Partially his hyper-awareness of Ripley’s presence. The longer the movie wound on, though, and the longer Ripley stayed like that, leaning herself against him all cosy, the more Nat suspected that she was simply just more physically affectionate than he was. What had the care package said about vampires and physical contact? They liked it, right?

Did he like this?

Maybe she would think his pounding heart was just exhilaration from the jump-scares, from watching so many zombie heads get blown off, so many entrails get ripped out. The movie was exceptionally gory. He was—uncomfortable. But he was almost always uncomfortable. He found himself wishing he was home cuddling his cat instead, but he almost always wished he was home instead of out. Even when he was enjoying himself, he was never truly enjoying himself.

Did he like this?

Nat tried to untangle his emotions. Fear, shame, guilt, stress, paranoia—oh, there was relief here, too. Relief and affection. Small flutterings of it. Nat exhaled and tried to release all his tension. He did like this. He hated it, but he liked it.

“What—what’s that thing called?” he asked during one of the movie’s lulls in action. “That thing that gets all up in your brain. The Greeble. The Gerbil.”

Ripley wheezed, laughing. “The Garble?”

“That’s the bastard.”

“Yeah, what about it?”

“Do you believe in it?”

“I don’t… not believe in it… I guess.” Ripley reached up to pat Nat’s face, ruffle his hair, playfully. “I mean, do I believe there’s something alive in vampire bodies? Like, wriggling around in the blood and stuff? Something that gives us our power and demands life force in return? Abso-fucking-lutely. Do I believe in—in some big spiritual vampire hivemind god that connects us all? Not really. I think it’s just—a way certain people have of wrapping their heads around the physical. It’s like a comforting delusion, maybe." She stopped for a breath. "Do you believe in the Garble?”

“I don’t know,” Nat said. “I haven’t decided yet. It talks to me. I can feel a presence sometimes. It could be something alive in me, like a parasite. Or it could be a big hivemind god.”

Ripley nodded thoughtfully.

“My friend Alex thinks it’s a spiritual thing, I think,” Nat said. “I wouldn’t call it a delusion exactly. I’ve been delusional. Religion is different.”

“Does your friend think it has, like, a purpose?” Ripley asked. “That’s what I always ask that trips people up. If it’s a religion, if it’s spiritual, what’s the point? What does it all mean? What’s the higher purpose?”

“I dunno. I’ll ask next time I see him, maybe.”

“Here’s a hint: there isn’t a higher purpose,” Ripley said. “It’s all just—just a fucked up medical condition.”

“If it’s a medical condition, why is no one working towards a cure?”

“You think vampires are running around offering themselves up for medical research? We’re not human anymore. If we told people what we really are, that we’re monsters, we’d get cut up into teeny tiny pieces by the government for sure.”

To emphasise Ripley’s point, the lead of the movie ran a chainsaw through a zombie’s decaying chest.

“Yeah,” Nat agreed. “Best not.”

@transmasc-wizard @saturn-iidae @polyaubergine @tracle0 @goosemixtapes @valence-positive @the-one-who-makes-negative-noise @ambiguousfiction @afoolandathief @silverwarewolf @mecharose @vellichor-virgo @plasticseaslug @jetstargenderfuckery @multi-lefaiye @writeouswriter @junoshusband @writing-is-a-martial-art @midnight-and-his-melodiverse @sleepycaprine @cream-and-tea @gailynovelry @lefttigerobservation @indecentpause @somealienquill @cannivalisms @violetfoxsketches @approximately20eggs @mohluskiepedard @desastreus @kk7-rbs @cee-grice @northwyrm @xylophonicsynapse @careful-pyromancer @recapitulation @incandescent-creativity @whole-buncha-snakess @mysticalalleycat @thatonecrowguy @va-nila-bean @televisionjester @excessive-vampires @walkman-cat

[be-my-ally]

Do it again. Please.

I HATE COMING UP WITH TITLES.

now this could be, a little bit, related to empty promises - or perhaps an AU off of it but you could also read it completely as a stand alone one shot. Fulfilling a request + prompt fill for ‘do it again. please.’  kinda imagining as if e + p’s month long honeymoon had gone so well they’d extended it rather than returning home 2 days later. 

pairing: fem!reader x Elvis Presley (1967)

warnings : 18+,18+, pwp. As always a lil bit of foreplay, teeny use of the term daddy, p in v sex, e can't stop + accidentally cums in her, couple of spanks here and there, tiny bit of innocence play? I use the term labia minora idk I have no excuse.

wc: miss VERY concise smut! 2.5k. 

The honeymoon period seems never-ending, you’ve been together now for almost three years, although only married for a little while - five weeks to the day tomorrow. You’re still celebrating every day like it’s an anniversary, wrapped in one another and cocooned in a bubble from Hawaii and now in California. Elvis hasn’t had to work for a little while, he’d taken the month off for your honeymoon, and extended that by a few weeks, despite the near-constant calls from the Colonel now. He’s talking about doing something new, something different, but for the moment you’re content to have him with you, even if you can tell he’s starting to itch to get back to the studio. He keeps it mostly to himself though, and you’re doing your best to keep him entertained in any way you can. Despite the months, years, of all the practicing and the training, the novelty of actual sex hasn’t worn off yet for either of you and you can’t deny that you use it to your advantage. 

Nonetheless, just because you’d had sex now didn’t mean Elvis didn’t still like doing other things; your thighs were still slightly sore from where he’d pushed them together to fuck in between last week, cock just about bumping against your folds. He’d gotten you off with his tongue before, ensuring a slick passage - using your own wetness as lubrication. But still, he’d fucked you raw, your inner thighs red and rashed. You knew he’d felt a little guilty about it, watching you run around in your swimsuit, marks clearly visible but it hadn’t stopped him from taking you on the sun-lounger and palming at the marks while he did so, after he’d sent his father and the mafia boys he couldn’t live without away. You should have perhaps been more embarrassed, knowing that they all knew why they’d been sent on a sudden errand, but in actuality you wanted him as much as he did you. Any reservations you might have had had been quickly forgotten as soon as he’d revealed his golden skin in the secluded garden. 

You’d been out to dinner tonight, a fairly casual affair, but still an opportunity to dress up a little - although that dress was now thrown over the back of the bathroom door. You loved to see him in his element, relaxed and happy and it hadn’t taken much, the briefest of touches from your pinky finger on the walk out of the restaurant, a thigh knocking against his in the car for him to get the hint that you wanted to go straight to bed once you returned. He’d stripped you almost immediately as the door shut - barely taking the time to appreciate your special underwear. 

You’re swiftly laid back on the bed, his arms lowering you as he kisses you, and he pulls away to  take a second to look down at all of you. You can’t help but preen a little, pushing your chest up and your hips back as you watch him watch you. He’s slimmer than he was at the start of the year, it shows in the thin corded muscle that surrounds his ribs and in the way his powerful thighs give way to slender shins and legs - you don’t prefer him one way or another, but with his summer tan, sweat glistening across his skin, catching on the hairs on his chest and arms he looks like a goddamn vision. An image you couldn’t have even dreamt up. His hair, that had been so carefully styled in the day, now falling across his forehead - flopping down, you can’t resist reaching up, breaking the lingering silence of both your gazes, twisting a strand in your fingers. 

He presses a kiss to your mouth - going where your hands tug him, before breaking your hold as he pulls back, his fingers sliding into you as he does. You moan at the intrusion but you’re so aroused that they barely catch on your entrance, and a little part of your brain that’s still capable of coherent thought wonders how, barely six months ago you couldn’t even get a finger in and now he’s molded you to him, carved out a space to slot in so perfectly that his fingers can just slip in. He crooks them just so - knowing intimately the exact spots to make you writhe. He takes his time, somehow despite his impatience in literally every other part of his life, he very rarely rushes this - ensuring that you’re not only wanting him by the time he moves on but that you’re desperate. Today is no exception, his other hand comes up to fiddle with a nipple, and you’re already sensitive enough that by the time he rolls one between his fingertips you can’t help but clench on his other hand, a jolt being sent straight down your belly. He continues to slip his fingers in and out of you, spreading them a little before nudging at your entrance with a third. It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve done this now, his penchant for dirty talk still surprises you, he’s incapable of silence constantly muttering praise against your skin. He moves his thumb, rubbing up the slick inner folds of your labia minora to your hitherto neglected clitoris. He’s narrating as he does; 

“That’s it baby, Jesus Christ look at how wet you are - all for me, ain’t that right? Just gotta, gotta find that lil’ button of yours, get the right spot.” And he does. A swipe of his guitar roughened thumb and your body lifts from the bed, hips jerking. He laughs at you, a little cruelly, as your breathing hitches, eyes closing about to beg for more before he pulls his fingers out. 

You shift on the bed, still slightly aghast at how filthy he is - holding his hand up and spreading his fingers, a line of your slick still connecting the two. You watch, breathe catching in your throat as he puts them in his own mouth, eyelashes fluttering. Your hips buck of their own accord and from his position between your spread thighs he presses his other hand on your tummy holding you down. You squirm, and he pulls out his now spit-slicked fingers from his mouth, pressing them back down to your burning core. He slips between the folds of your labia, fingers catching the puffy, wet, skin. 

“I’m…I’m ready - El, please - please.” He grins, eyes still focussed where his fingers continue to play with you. You groan, clenching around nothing, desperate for something - for more. 

He steadies you, lining himself up and pressing into you. You feel every inch, every centimetre of him as he pushes into you until he’s pressed in to the hilt - your legs being forced wider to accommodate him. There’s the hint of a burning stretch, but with barely a finger over your clit you can feel yourself relaxing into him, Little Elvis burrowing into the warm little home he’d created for himself. A home that had lain dormant, until Elvis as Pygmalion had moulded it to his exact dimensions - your vagina, in fact your whole body, his own Galatea. 

He thrusts into you, famous hips doing their job as he grips your thighs and knees. You crunch up, unable to stop yourself, at the mounting pleasure - even though you’re not convinced it could be that attractive to have you thrashing about below him. But he breathes a laugh - it turning into a groan as he pulls out and pushes into you again, your body arching back. 

“How’re you -“ He’s breathless, gasping out the words, “how’re you still so goddamn jumpy, so fucking jumpy like a lil baby rabbit honey, like you still ain’t used to it,” he’s practically just rambling and you zone out, letting his words wash over you as you concentrate just on his tone and the movements of his body in yours. “God that’s fucking it, yes, oh lord, how’s your yittle cunt so tight still, fit me so goddamn perfectly.” You try to clutch at his arms, where he’s holding your waist, and he pulls out, briefly, flipping you over onto your stomach, pulling your hips up and back to him. You don’t have time to protest, even though you don’t like it on your front as much, your breath snatched away by his sudden manhandling. You turn your face, 

“Oh - El, daddy, I don’t -” He just pulls you back to him though, forcing your legs apart again, and burying himself back into your warm heat. 

“I know, I know baby, but just, just for a little while, give me this -” He sounds moderately apologetic, although not very sincere, its hard to hold a conversation with his cock rocking in and out of you with every roll of his hips but you do your best. 

“Ok, bu-but, but tomorr- “ His hand comes down on your ass - you jump, but can’t help the moan that follows as he interrupts your attempts at bargaining. 

“No baby, you’ll give me it because I want it.” He growls, “Because you’re mine.” His hand comes down again, you can feel the sudden surge of wetness at that, his voice so rough it’s like he’s talking straight to your core. “Say it baby, say you’re mine. We’re married now darlin’. You belong - to - me.” You repeat it back to him, stuttering, promising that you’re;

“I’m - oh - all yours, all yours daddy,” You can hear the sounds of his skin slapping against yours, and the feel of his hands gripping into the marks he’d just made, “I’m, oh god, I’m - I belong to you,” 

“Good girl.” You can’t see him, but you just know from his tone that he’s nodded to himself self-satisfactorily. 

Oh,” Your eyes are rolling back in your head as he continues to fuck into you, your nipples catching on the bedspread as your body is dragged back and forth. “Oh fuck, fuck.” He spanks you again, 

“None-a that fucking filthy language from you baby.” You can’t hear the smirk in his voice, too lost in the sensations, babbling an apology; 

“Sorry, sorry, oh-“ He pulls you out again, and you whine at the loss. But soon his hand is back, finger stroking down your labia where you now remain open, puffy lips slipping between his fingers, slick with evidence of your arousal. His fingertips stroke around your tender entrance and you moan, hips grinding in circles, so close to the edge that you can feel it building in your stomach, only he pulls his hand away just at that moment. Elvis flips you onto your back and lowers himself to be just above you, sinking into you again. You’ve been pretty well acquainted with a multitude of different positions now, but you know you both have a soft spot for the simple ones. The ability to watch his face, eyebrows scrunching and mouth falling open, pouty lips pushed forward when his own pleasure mounts. The ability to hold onto his shoulders as he rocks into you, or pull him into a - usually pretty messy - kiss. He’s been dragging it out for so long now that it doesn’t take long for you to feel the edge again, and he reaches down with one hand, slipping it between your sticky sweaty bodies. 

You’ve not managed this many times, only once before - he’s had to get you off with his fingers or tongue before or after, but as he hits just the right angle again, fingers rubbing over your clit in little circles - the internal and external stimulation combining to send you over the edge, body clenching tight. Your hips grind down in circular movements as you clamp down on him, 

“Oh fuck - fuck, fuck baby, that feels so - oh shit, shit.” You feel him suddenly freeze, twitching inside you, the pulse of his sudden spurt of ejaculate deep within you. You pant, interrupting his swearing even as his hips start to move again, 

“Wha- What,” You swallow, trying to talk around a tongue that suddenly feels too big for your mouth, “What was that?” He groans, his hips pressing himself tight against you before he pulls away with a reluctant sigh, rolling over onto his back beside you,

“S’ok, baby, s’ok -  just oh god I just, I couldn’t stop - god you’ve made such a perfect little bitty home for me, Christ darlin’, I couldn’t stop.” He sounds almost a little nervous, and you wriggle, feeling the way your combined wetness was starting to cool. 

“Oh....” You feel your heartbeat between your legs, a steady pulse, you’d liked it. “….do it again. Please?” He collapses, head falling back onto the pillow -

“Darlin’ I can’t just go again,” You frown, 

“Why?" You blink over at him innocently, watching the flush dissipate from his cheekbones, "You make me do it again all the time.” You writhe next him as if to demonstrate your point. His hair flips forward as he shakes his head, rosy cheeks evident. 

“God, baby, men can’t just - I’d hafta, gotta get myself primed again, I can’t just do it again this second.” You pout, feeling it start to slip out of you, the strange combination of its thickness against the thinness of your own orgasm and the tiny bit of sting where it touches your slightly sore entrance. 

“Unless you’ve changed your mind ‘bout that baby honey you gotta," He sounds like he's thinking fast, "gotta push it out at least.” You frown, trying to regain control of your trembling limbs, 

“El- I don’t -“ He interrupts you, 

“Shh darling, listen to me, promise it’ll be fine you just gotta, go on baby…” 

He groans, holding your legs open, leaning over to watch it bubble out of you, dribbling down onto the bedspread. You moan, 

“Oh, El-it’s I can feel it,” 

“That’s it little, quick ‘fore they get swimmin’.” You groan, rolling your hips at the sensation, and he reaches over, long fingers scooping it onto your inner thighs. You feel your tummy twitch with interest and you squirm as he pats at you a couple of times before wiping his hand on the cover. 

“I… I liked that. Maybe… maybe you could do that again sometime.” He chuckles at you, and you both lay there panting for a second, recovering from the exertion and excitement. He gets up first - rolling you off the cover, throwing a washcloth your way - you do a cursory swipe but can’t get up the energy to do much more. Content to lie there as he pulls all the sheets up to make up for the loss of the additional layer of the bedspread. He climbs back into the bed, joining you where your eyelids are starting to droop closed. 

His arms wrap around you, as he rolls into you, pulling you close to growl into your ear, “Jesus baby, where did that come from? You goddamn little minx,” He puts on a high-pitched voice, “What was that Elvis? Do it again!” You were pretending to be asleep, eyes tightly closed but you can’t help but snicker, his fingers finding their way under your rib cage - digging in, tickling you as you give up the pretense of sleep, caught out, squirming around and giggling. 

tags:

@thatbanditqueen @whositmcwhatsit @ellie-24 @missmaywemeetagain @from-memphis-with-love @vintageshanny

[angelknives]

Emmrich's romance is the best, but that's not saying much

Look, I also think Emmrich's romance is the best in Dragon Age: The WorstLastMinuteNameChange. However... it doesn't hold a candle to any of the actually great romances in the Dragon Age series. Because it is stuck in a game terrified of upsetting its players.

First off, it takes literally no effort to get into a romance with Emmrich. You could hate spirits, the fade and Manfred himself* and it doesn't matter. Because the companions are not allowed to dislike Rook. Which sucks especially because I imagine getting into a real discussion with this man would be quite something.

But fine, Emmrich is exactly the type I'd go for in a game, so my Rook would've probably been on great terms with him from the start anyway. Fine.

The romance itself is cute, but very very shallow. It *hints* at deeper things, but then runs away from them. You have a mourn watcher who is struggling with existential dread and basically wants to 'cure' that by becoming undead. In any game with some depth, that would be a great idea for a character. And it would be a great idea for a romance.

The first time I played, I turned Emmrich into a Lich because it seemed so obvious to me that that would be the 'tragic' ending for him (and I live for drama). Instead of encouraging this man to face his own mortality - the thing he has been avoiding**- you help him avoid it. Close his eyes to it. Surely that would lead somewhere? No, no it doesn't.

But the thing about that choice that really gets me, is that it means nothing for the romance. The way I was sure that his line about 'who knows whether the blooms would hold the same appeal to me' was about him losing the aility to connect to life, and to love once he became a Lich. The drama I saw unfolding when Rook, by not taking the hard path of getting Emmrich to face his fears, and instead taking the easy part of pushing Emmrich to step out of life itself, only to realise that by making him immune to death, Rook made the man they love immune to life. The heartwrenching break up when they both realise trying to escape the end of one thing, they inevitably caused the end of the thing they both held so dear

But no. Nothing changes. Oh and even the drama of Emmrich now being a skeleton, and so not capable of enjoying the pleasures of the flesh, get denied to us. (DOS2 save me!) The only teeny tiny bit of drama you get is one single sentence where Rook assures Emmrich they don't mind looking at his bones.

No competent writer who got the freedom to write a real story, with depth and actual characterisation, would let that well of prime story material just sit there. And going by what we do see of Emmrich, I do not think his writer is bad. I think she's great, but held back by what this game thinks players can handle.

And that's why, even though I love Emmrich, and I think he's the best thing about DATV, and his romance is definitely the best out of the ones actually in the game, I can't call it a great romance. It's just the brightest star in a very dim sky.

*Not that you can *really* do any of those things because those are negative things and if you want to do those, Bioware will come and give you the 1985 treatment. **Actually avoiding, rather than what the game pretends he's been avoiding by acting like 'letting manfred go' is him conquering his fears