#i never really draw eyelashes either

[jaratedeguadalupe]

monster energy boyfriends

[rinachains]

synopsis: in which your leader invites you for a drink and you see a new side of him.

wc: 2.1k

contents: drabble; cult leader!geto x gn!reader; tipsy, clingy geto; fluff, small warning for cult!leader geto lol; alcohol consumption

a/n: reblogs and comments are very much appreciated!

It wasn’t necessarily unusual for Geto to invite you to join him in his office. Usually, though, you drank tea or coffee and sipped your soothing beverages as you chatted about your day, your duties and anything else that came to mind. You actually assumed he didn't drink alcohol at all - until now.

You were currently standing in his dimly lit office after he asked you to come over earlier that day, taking in the view of him pulling out a bottle of sake and two glasses, putting them on the small, wooden table in front of him. His long, silky onyx hair was tied back in a low ponytail, his usual monk attire had been discarded and replaced with a plain black robe that revealed a glimpse of his strong, broad chest. You could see a faint, healed scar on his otherwise smooth, pale skin. It was unfair how beautiful he looked without even trying, how ethereal.

“Are you planning on joining me eventually or do you want to stand by the door for the rest of the evening?” His purple eyes met yours, a glint reflecting in them, drawing you to him as if you were a crow seeing a shiny object. “C’mon, you know I won’t bite.”

Feeling a little flustered about acting so awkward, you hurriedly walked over to the table where you sat down opposite him on the soft cushions beneath you and crossed your legs to make yourself more comfortable. You couldn't help but naively think that this felt a bit like a date, but you knew better, didn't you? You were just driven by your own hormones because you weren't quite used to the attention of a man like him yet.

“Is there an occasion for this or did you just suddenly feel the urge to get drunk, Master Geto?”, you asked in a subtle, amused tone to relax yourself and get rid of the tension, raising an eyebrow as you eyed the table.

“No special occasion, I just wanted to share a drink with you.”

“Oh, but I don’t really drink”, you said sheepishly, holding your hand out in front of you. “I mean, I could go for one glass of sake, but I’m afraid that’s my limit.”

He chuckled, looking up briefly through his eyelashes before concentrating on pouring the drinks. “Are you a lightweight or just not fond of the taste?”

“Both, I guess.”

“I’m not much of a drinker either, but I thought it could help with relaxing. This week was pretty draining.”

Every time you two would have your little meetings, he would actually indulge you by sharing how his day went and what he’s planning next, but it never truly went deeper than that, solely scratching the surface. You weren't sure if he ever told you how he really felt. He held back, and you couldn't blame him for that. You always wondered why his hatred for non-sorcerers ran so deep, why he started this cult, what finally made him do what he's doing now. You desperately wanted to know and absorb everything about him, but you had to hold back. You wanted him to open up on his own because you were afraid you might overstep your boundaries and destroy the casual bond you two had forged.

He hummed approvingly as he observed you bringing your filled cup up to your mouth and taking small, measured sips. “Self-restraint is good, it’s quite hard to not be greedy.”

Then, contrary to you, he downed his drink in one go, making you choke back a startled laugh. His tongue darted out to lick the remaining liquid on his lips as he put his cup down. You felt your mouth fall slightly open at the sight, resisting the urge to copy him and lick your own lips.

It’s been about a year and a half since you joined Geto’s side. You remembered that day clearly, every single detail burned into your brain.

He was a stranger approaching you in his monk's robes, and for a moment you assumed you were surely going to be dragged into a cult. Which wasn't entirely wrong - you were technically part of a cult now, except you were the one doing the scamming, and he was helping you discover something very important about yourself - your cursed energy and technique.

Years, almost decades, of feeling as if you were crazy, until you met someone who finally understood and proofed to you that you weren’t crazy, but, in fact, special. You were no longer lonely; for once you were surrounded by people and there was no loneliness that weighed you down.

He was your leader, but he never made you feel inferior. Your group was more like a family; that’s what he said to you from the beginning, what he promised with such earnest enthusiasm. You’d join his family, become a part of it, a new member. You’d finally belong.

It also didn’t help that he was handsome – devilishly so. You didn't think you'd ever met anyone as captivating as him, with eyes so keen and sharp, smile so nihilistic and almost cruel, voice so gentle and soothing. Truthfully, he had you under his spell the moment you encountered those purple hues.

Normally, he was carrying himself in such a collected, mature manner, domineering and commanding but without being brash and forceful – he was a natural leader who effortlessly managed to wrap others around his long fingers, including you.

Now, as the two of you were sitting here, and you slowly finished your one drink and he was already on his third one, there was a light flush coating his cheeks, his hair lightly disheveled, a few more strands than usual hanging in his face, framing his delicate, sharp features. It gave him a boyish charm that made the corner of your lips curl up, your cheeks feeling warm (and not just from the alcohol). It was vulnerable in a way; you wondered if you were the first one to see him in such a state. The thought of someone else getting this view made your stomach churn; you wanted to be the first and the only one. A view reserved for you eyes only.

“Let me pour you another one, Master Geto”, you exclaimed, reaching out for the bottle and carefully pouring more liquid in his cup.

His eyes intently followed your movements, hand twitching with the secret urge to pet your head and relish the softness of your hair. So eager to please.

“Suguru.”

“Huh?”, you quickly turned your attention towards him again, just as you put down the bottle on the table.  

“Call me Suguru.” His head tilted to the side, bang swinging with his lazy movements, and he put his hands behind him, leaning back. “We’ve known each other for a while now. And I trust you. Shouldn’t the person I trust call me by my first name?”

“You-“, you choked out a response, flustered by his unexpected directness, “you can’t just say things like that.”

“Why not?”, he gave you a look of genuine confusion, making you hold back a chuckle at his current childlike nature. “I want to be honest with the people I care about.”

A huff escaped your lips, more collected now. “I guess that checks out since you lie so much on a daily basis.”

“Hmh, exactly”, he purred, a deep rumble vibrating in his chest and you swore you could almost feel it despite the small distance between you. “I have to lie so much to these monkeys, ‘have to play pretend. I don’t have to do that with you.” Something akin to a blissful expression formed on his face and his voice was so insufferably sultry, dripping honey that you could almost taste on your own tongue.

You pursed your lips, biting the inside of your cheek. “But you’re still my leader, it wouldn’t be really appropriate to call you by your first name”, you paused for a moment, watching his face and thinking for a brief moment that it almost looked like he was sulking. “Plus the other ones still call you Master Geto.”

“Mhm but that is different”, he sighed, confusing you even more. Different how? “And, if you insist that I’m your leader, then I give you the order to call me by my first name. You can’t resist my orders, can you?”

You let out a sigh in return, sounding exhausted, though you weren’t sure from what exactly. Maybe it was time to go for you, feeling like you’d lose your mind the longer you were with him in his current (incredibly irresistible) state.

“I believe I have to go now, Suguru. I have to be up early tomorrow.” You carefully got up from your sitting position and turned your back to him, and just as you were about to walk towards the door, you were suddenly held back and placed on the floor again, making you let out a gasp.

Strong arms were wrapped around your waist, holding onto your stomach, lightly squeezing, but still considerate with their touch. Geto’s scent enveloped you, something earthy and fresh, and just so addictive. It smelled like home. The warmth he radiated surrounded you, you were able to feel his broadness and his muscles against your body, reminding you of a shield rather than a cage. You didn’t believe you ever felt so secure.

“Don’t go.”  

“Suguru…”

“Stay here. S’comfortable when you’re around.” Oh.

You tilted your head, looking over your shoulder to get a glimpse of his face, only for your nose to almost touch his cheek. A shiver ran down your spine. His eyes were half-lidded, pupils dilated, and his eyebrows slightly furrowed; he appeared almost pained. As if the mere thought of you leaving him would hurt him deeply. You felt your knees getting weaker and you became overly aware of the way you were breathing, trying to tell yourself to take normal, regular breaths.

“Say: do you like being here?”, you felt his warm breath hitting your bare nape as he lowered his head, your hair standing up and goosebumps covering your body. “Do you ever regret joining me?”

Surprised by his sudden questioning, you raised your eyebrows. “Have I given you the impression that I did?”

His thin lips dropped into something resembling a pout. “Answer my question.”

You resisted the urge to poke his forehead, instead holding your hands still by your sides, lightly grazing his arms that were still wrapped around you, his finger caressing your covered stomach in soothing circles. “No, I never regretted joining you. In fact, I believe it was the best thing that could have happened to me.”

He hummed, somewhat satisfied by your answer yet still skeptical.

“You could have lived a simpler life.”

“Sure, perhaps I could have lived a life in blissful ignorance”, you huffed. “But I also would have lived the rest of my life wondering what’s wrong with me. Maybe I would have become mad at some point. You gave me the answers I needed, and more. You gave me purpose.”

Geto was sure – sooner or later Satoru would have discovered you and taken you under his wing. You would have become a jujutsu sorcerer; putting your life at risk, just to save monkeys who neither cared nor were even aware of your existence. No, he couldn’t have allowed this. The thought made his skin crawl, images of you being life stock haunting his mind. You were made for something better, you deserved more than that, to be untainted and free from the shackles of jujutsu society. Only he could give you that. Perhaps he was selfish in that way, for needing to have you by his side, but he would gladly indulge in that selfishness if it promised your proximity to him and your safety.  

You directed your stare towards the ceiling, a contemplative expression grazing your features. “I guess you saved me.”

You couldn’t see how his eyes were now less drowsy and became bigger, a sparkle appearing in them, and how the colors in his already reddened cheeks seemed to deepen.

“Saved you, huh”, he murmured under his breath, voice coming out muffled as he tucked his chin further into your shoulder, almost nuzzling you. Your heart stuttered at the contact, cursing him internally for touching you so casually, for acting so intimate with you.

“I’ll always keep you safe. That’s a promise. No filth should ever touch or harm you.”

“That’s quite a big promise.”

His hand grabbed your chin then, a gentle yet firm grip, the sheer size of his large palm covering it, fingertips barely grazing your bottom lip. He held your gaze, so intense and unwavering that it made your throat dry and afraid to swallow. “I mean it.”

“Alright”, you whispered, as if it was a secret only the two of you should know, forming an invisible string that held you together. “I’ll hold you to it.”

[nonbinary-potatoes]

Prompt: Change 19/10/24 @rosekillermicrofic

Word count: 811

(Was feeling super motivated to write today, but it's not proofread)

Barty would never understand why Evan and Regulus liked the library so much. It was too quiet most of the time, and the room temperature was always too warm for a jumper but too cold not to have one. Still, Barty sat in his seat and doodled mindlessly onto parchment because he'd rather be bored out of his mind in the company of his boyfriend and best friend than bored out of his mind by himself At least there was something to do here, and being alone was always a recipe for trouble when it came to Barty.

"Nice drawing, Bug," Evan muttered softly, looking up from his notes briefly and smiling at the sketch Barty had been half-heartedly working on. There were some basic anatomy sketches, based on the pictures in the book Regulus was working on - some bullshit about healer school prep. But it was fun to draw, and the pictures were pretty cool, especially the ones from autopsy results. Barty smiled, writing an I and a U on either side of an anatomical heart and sliding the parchment towards Evan who took it, folded it, and tucked it safely into his breast pocket on his shirt. "I heart you too," he mumbled before returning to his notes.

"Heyyyyy Junior," an annoying voice drawled out, some blonde girl strutting over the table the three were working at. She batted her eyelashes and smirked, clearly wanting something. Barty recognised her as some hookup from a while ago, Chloe, maybe? Some C name.

"Yeah?" Barty squinted at her suspiciously. She leant over the table the buttons on her blouse undone at the top, showing off far too much cleavage for a casual interaction. She pouted before running a tongue over her teeth and speaking in a disgustingly sweet voice.

"A little birdy told me that you're not seeing any girls at the moment... so I safely assume you're on the pull..." she drawled her words in a particularly annoying way, Barty was coping by imagining using her as a specimen for an autopsy. At least this conversation had given him some insight on a possible future career option.

"Me, you. Hogsmeade tomorrow, get me a drink, and we can come back to my dorm afterwards." She was straight to the point; credit where credit was due. Evan wrinkled his nose but stayed occupied on his notes. A shame, really. Barty would've liked to see him shut her down.

"Sorry, dollface got plans. Can't change em" Barty shrugged her off, encouraging her to quiet while she was ahead. Unfortunately it was rather unbelievable that Barty wasn't actively hunting down someone to sleep with, he wasn't exactly known for his celibacy in the same way he wasn't known for his ability to maintain a longterm relationship. He had since realised that he just didn't get that spark for women. There was never any romance... no desire to make it last the same way there was with Evan.

She reached foreward, walking her fingers up Barty's chest and pushing his chin up to look at her face. It was a rather disgusting plea for attention, attention Barty wasn't going to give her.

"Yeh bitch, we have fucking plans" Evan grumbled quietly, clearly not too please with the attention she was giving Barty but he wasn't often the type to cause a scene unlike Barty who didn't mind putting people in their place. She glanced at Evan and raised an eyebrow. "Who invited you to my conversation? You swot." She scrunched her nose up. She looked a lot like an ugly hare. Somehow, the way she spoke to Evan made her look even uglier.

"Don't talk to him like that," Barty snarled, swatting her hand from his face. He had no shame in punching her if the need arose. Luckily for her, she seemed to get the idea that Barty didn't want her unsolicited touching.

She frowned, suddenly looking much less friendly. Kissing her teeth, she stood up and buttoned her blouse back up properly. "Fucking enjoy your date with your bros" she muttered, gesturing to Evan and Regulus and glancing between them like they were offensive. She leaned close again to whisper "I don't get why you're cockblocking yourself Crouch" spitting the words out bitterly, she gestured widely to herself "what's not to want?"

"The clap," Regulus says before chuckling to himself and going back to his book, clearly proud of the comeback. The girl looked even more offended now, much to Barty's amusement.

"I'll enjoy my date with my boyfriend... and then after that, I'll very much enjoy-" Barty was cut off by Evans hand clasped over his mouth, giving Barty that stern look that easily made him shut up and not even consider talking. He smiled with his eyes and waggled his fingers as the girl stormed off, looking half disgusted and half disappointed.

[literaila]

were there any occurrences back in the day where gojo and reader almost kissed?

“i’m not helping you with this.”

gojo is sprawled across the bleachers, his limbs way too long, his hair getting all over your notebook. “please,” he repeats, for the fifth time, “he’s going to kill me if i turn it in late again.”

“maybe go ask one of your friends,” you suggest, idly, not even bothering to pull on the white mop that is currently smudging your neat writing. “oh wait. you can’t.”

there’s a smirk on your face because you quite like it when gojo begs

“is this another—“

“‘cause you don’t have any.”

two otherworldly eyes meet yours. gojo glances up at you with a sort of irritation you rarely get to see on him. “how many times are you going to make that joke?” he asks, grumbling. “it’s getting old.”

you grin. “not to me.”

and then you push him away and he sighs as he lays on the bench, one leg propped in front of you, the other folded almost underneath his torso.

“can you go now? i actually need to finish my assignment.”

gojo makes another pathetic noise. “yaga said no more missions until i turn it in, though,” he pokes you with a shoe. “how am i supposed to buy more pocky if i can’t leave school grounds?”

“bribe suguru to buy some for you.”

“that doesn’t work anymore.”

you raise a brow, pushing his foot away. “what’d you do?”

“i didn’t do anything,” he pouts at you, leaning up. “who ever said a verbal contract was binding?”

“mm… the civil code, i think.”

gojo scoffs. “well, i’m still not paying him.”

“what a shame,” you sigh, abandoning your paperwork—how are you supposed to focus with his syrupy voice droning on, anyway? “i guess the next week will be filled with your sugar withdrawals.”

“or…” gojo sits up, smiling at you—his most irritating one, of course, like he knows some secret. “you could help me with this assignment.”

“i’m not cheating for you.”

“‘help,’” he repeats, “do you know what ‘help’ is?”

“your version of help is having me give you all of the answers and then purposefully misspelling some words so yaga won’t notice.”

“do you think i’m illiterate?” gojo asks, mock hurt.

you laugh. “aren’t you?”

he frowns. “now you have to help me.”

“go ask geto, or shoko, or literally anyone else. why am i your first choice whenever you want to annoy someone?”

you see his eyelashes flutter from the tips of his glasses. “because you have the best reactions,” he answers, slyly.

you look away, shaking your head.

“and you’re the smartest. and meanest. i like it when you’re mean to me.”

you look back over, scoffing. “yeah, i know,” you slide over, just a bit. “you freak.”

who said kissing ass never worked?

you really need to work on setting some boundaries with him. or your own idiocy. maybe you should ask shoko if you got a concussion last time you sparred with nanami.

“what’s the assignment?” you ask, making sure not to look at gojo’s face.

he grins, leaning down anyway. as if he doesn’t know what you’re doing. as if he’s not aware that his grins are your breaking point—that they’ll either push you further away or draw you in so close that you can taste his breath.

as if he can’t feel it too.

“you’re going to help me?” he asks, far too proud. “really?”

“you’re buying me lunch next time we have a mission together,” you tell him. “and dinner.”

“am i?”

you look up at him, eyes sharp, mouth ready to—

but he’s right there, and gojo doesn’t know a single thing about personal space.

and you thought that you were used to this. used to feeling like you can see his eyes, even with his blacked out shades. used to the glimmering edges of his teeth, and the smooth shine to his skin.

used to him and his words and..

god damn it. why does he have to make everything so difficult?

and really, it’s not your fault when you lean forward a little bit—because there’s a slight breeze and you were pushed. because you just lost your balance for a second and you just need to straight out again.

and it’s not even you leaning in at all. it’s gojo—it’s always gojo. it’s always satoru making the wrong moves and pushing these things too far, and it’s not your fault that his lips are pink and your eyes are drawn to them, or that everything about him is so hard and soft and—

you flinch away when a bird sings, or when the wind changes, or when you finally catch on to the tone of your own thoughts.

you lean back again, hating yourself for every moment that you didn’t before.

“i—“ you clear your throat. “you are. buying me things, i mean. you are.”

gojo swallows. “okay.”

“okay.”

he doesn’t look at you and you don’t look at him. the two of you pause for a moment, the silence entirely too loud.

“okay,” you repeat. “what’s it about, again?”

[meanbossart]

ASK COMPILATION: LORE, CHARACTERIZATION, AND THE ONE IN WHICH I RUIN A BUNCH OF PEOPLE'S FUN

As usual, this is far from all of the asks in my inbox but I'm trying to catch up 😩thank you everyone for your patience!

For the record, if your ask isn't being answered, that most likely means one of three things:

I am saving it as a possible art prompt.

I sincerely don't have a very interesting or good reply for it yet!

It's a question I have been asked multiple times/the answer is in my pinned post.

Glad you like them!!

As much as I don't limit what I draw to canonical events, vampirism is so antithetical to DU drow's character journey that I couldn't really envision it, to be honest, but who knows! Maybe I'll cook up some Ascended Astarion scenario someday that is kind of a role-reversal of the Bhaalist DU Drow AU I have going on in tandem to the story.

I'll be honest, this is one of the rare times where I'm really not sure which aspect of DU drow's weirdness this is in reference to. Do you know something I don't? 😅

His masochism is very... Classic, I guess? He's in it for the pain and for the emotional connection, and the process of being pierced wouldn't cut it whatsoever, it's too subtle. The body modifications he has are an incidental result of it, but they were never really the goal.

Also having stuff dangling off his face or body would just irritate him, he specifically only does rings because all other types of jewellery get in the way too much. Pre-tadpole Bhaalist drow obviously wore them by the ton, but only as a symbol of status and because he had a permanent new-money complex🤷 so yeah not a piercing-type of character at all, sorry!

He's smooth from the eyelashes-down and profoundly weirded out by body hair LOL

I don't personally think that whatever Astarion had for a home before would bear my resemblance to it after 200 years - having probably gone through several owners, remodeled, if not completely lost to the destruction of the end-game. I do HC that he used to visit it whenever he could as an enthralled spawn to read his mail, but he stopped after his father passed.

THANK YOU, I THINK? I can't say that isn't a passionate description at least!

I'm honestly surprised that this comes up as often as it does LOL but it's just an stylistic choice on my end!

The latter - for sure. He figured that them dying at each other's hands at the end was a given and took that assumption entirely for granted (and I'm sure daydreamed about it often while Gortash went on and on about political strategy during their dinner meetings.)

;))) way ahead of you and by "way ahead" I mean "eventually and whenever I can figure out when to do it alongside the other 30 ideas I am currently juggling" (but I really do want to make a little comic out of it!)

He used them! Not immediately, but he grew to trust the guardian after some initial suspicion and happily gobbled up those squirmy little things alongside Astarion. Because I made his character on a whim and without any planned backstory, I didn't really put any thought into his Guardian's appearance either, so she's just a human woman with a Joan of Arc look going on who's of no significance to him or his past.

But DU drow did trust her, again not immediately but eventually. It was honestly a big kick in the gut to him when the Emperor revealed himself and it definitely set their relationship up to fail from the get-go.

This is also why he didn't ascend to the next stage of Ilithid power, he just stomped the thing dead right on the spot LOL

LMAO I think Gortash is too proud to chase a tail he can't catch like that

He was probably very overwhelmed by the sudden realization that OH, THIS IS ALL HAPPENING BECAUSE OF ME which naturally didn't come across whatsoever to anyone present since he immediately bottled it up and tucked it away out of sight. However, as the story progressed and DU drow helped his friends get out of their respective pickles he was probably able to justify it to himself as it having been for the greater good - since it led to Astarion being freed from his master and Shadowheart to defying the Sharrans.

As for all of the rest of the ensued destruction and death that resulted from it? Well you can't make an omelette without cracking some eggs, or whatever is the wizard version of that saying. He has essentially turned the entire situation into a net-positive in his mind and sleeps great at night because of it.

[necstasy]

paul atreides x bene gesserit reader? 👀 pretty please

slight manipulation?; bene gesserit reader; &. PAUL ATREIDES MDNI 18+

"have you mastered it yet?"

you know what the atreides son is speaking of. the voice, one of the most difficult parts of the bene gesserit training. for a second, you wonder how he knows of the technique. and then you remember his mother, a woman the reverend mother has spoken highly of during your training sessions, despite her defiance.

your eyes watch you and paul's hands as you go to speak. they hang in suspended air off to the side of you both, fingertips touching lightly as paul leads your hands up, down, and to either side. he's creating a box, you realize. it's a soothing and mesmerizing dance.

"no. not yet."

paul hums. his free hand moves from behind your back to your waist.

"it's difficult." it's not a question, he speaks from experience. your eyebrows furrow. you have the urge to ask him how exactly he knows. you want to know if he is being trained in the ways of the bene gesserit, something a man has never been privy to.

but so much else is already sacred in this space. in the dead of night, in your guest quarters, a space that you should not be sharing with the only son of your host for the next week. but it was only natural that you and paul found each other. there was a pull drawing you towards him since you got off the ship. the order of events surely would have driven you two together in an intimate space sooner or later.

"it is," you agree after a moment.

paul shuffles just a bit closer to you. the bend in your elbow increases as your bodies get closer. paul's hand flexes as he bunches the dark fabric of your nightgown in his hands, pulling you just a hair closer. you shouldn't be this close to him. you've never been this close to a man before.

the energy is electrifying.

it buzzes through the air, pulsating between you both to the beat of your heart. you try to call on your learnings. you try to calm your heart in the most simple human ways, the ways your mother taught you before the reverend mother did.

paul licks his lips before he responds again. he takes a moment, he breathes, and you pull your eyes away from your hands to look at paul. the glowglobe hovering just behind you illuminates his face perfectly. it casts shadows where his curls lay over his forehead, it deepens the impressive hollow of his cheekbones. you can see how long his eyelashes are, and how colorful his eyes are. you're hyper-aware of the moles dotting his face, and the scar he has in his cheek.

you're even closer than you thought, but you like it.

"i found that ... pleasure can help you."

your eyebrows shoot up towards your hairline before they fall back to their resting place and push together instead.

"pleasure?"

paul nods.

"how do you mean, my lord?"

his lips quirk up at the honorific and you suddenly feel silly for using it. paul doesn't mention it, though.

"when i'm alone in my room at night, in my own company—" the image enters your brain before you can fight it. paul on his back, his hand below his waist, his eyes heavy lidded and his breath even heavier. you swallow and clear your throat.

"it's like i can feel it wanting to come out of me. and the mornings after, when my mother makes me use it, it's easier."

you don't know how much truth exists in his words, and his suggestion, even if it has yet to be blantantly placed in front of you, is dangerous. it's stupid and risky. and yet, you find yourself drawn to it. that same pull that brought you to paul is bringing you to wanting him to lay out his invitation.

he does soon after.

"do you want to try it?"

you do. you really, really do.

"how would we do it?"

paul pulls you even closer to him and now your chests are touching. he's fighting back a smile, it's obvious in the way the skin around his lips dimples for a second before returning to neutrality. when he speaks, it's harder for him to hide it.

"i don't have to touch you if you don't want me to."

"i want you to." the admission slips from your mouth so quickly and so easily. it's a little embarrassing. your skin warms.

paul takes a moment. he stares at you, eyes flickering back and forth between yours. "okay," he finally says. his smile takes over the lower half of his face. "then i can touch you, and you have to focus, okay?"

you nod.

paul slinks his hand up your back, over your shoulder, and cups your cheek. he intertwines your fingers, your hands still suspended in the air, and he moves just a bit closer until his lips finally lay onto yours.

[ticklishfiend]

Figure Us Out (ATLA)

(lee!zuko /ler!aang and sokka)

A/N : i love atla rn. love zuko. if i encounter an awkward grumpy guy with a redemption arc in media, u bet ur ass i’m going to tickle him

Word Count : 3863

Summary : Zuko still feels like an outsider in their group. Aang and the others are gonna make sure he feels included!

hope u enjoy!!

—

“You’re such a liar!” Katara playfully punched Sokka in the arm, drawing a laugh out of him.

“I am not! That’s exactly how it went down, you’re just embarrassed that–”

“I’m not embarrassed–”

“Yeah, and you’re totally not red in the face either.”

“Sokka!”

This was…this was weird. 

Before meeting Sokka and Katara, Zuko really thought “being angry at your sibling” was a concept he understood better than anyone. He and Azula fought constantly back at home, it was pretty much just how they communicated with each other. Arguments aplenty, yelling and bickering by the dozen. 

But after spending the past few weeks with his new team (the word ‘friends’ still makes him bite his tongue), he’s realized there’s actually two different types of a sibling fight, and one of those types he’s never personally encountered before.

He’s used to spitting insults, deep personal cuts made against your biggest insecurities. Lies and manipulation hidden under sweet smiles so no one around suspects a thing. Most fights were like dances, using careful words and holding back just enough information to make your opponent second-guess themselves. And, of course, an argument was rarely ever had without literal flames thrown around to really drive it home.

But this? This was playful bickering around a campfire just to get under each other’s skin. Lighthearted teasing that showed how well they knew each other. There was love under each jab.

It was sorta weirding Zuko out.

He wasn’t uncomfortable by it, in fact probably the opposite. It made him feel closer to the group that he was included in moments like these. He liked getting to witness how normal siblings are supposed to interact, even if he knows he’ll never truly get to experience something like that himself. Zuko’s accepted his distance with Azula, and honestly it’d probably feel weirder if they did interact like this after everything they’ve gone through.

Honestly, he’s not sure why he feels weird. Maybe it’s because he’s just not as close to them all as they are to each other. Right now, Zuko’s just an awkward outsider that’s sorta-kinda trying to fit in, and fitting in with normal people has never exactly been his strong suit. He’s awkward and stiff and he knows it. And yet, they’ve been so open to him already. Sure, he had to prove he was over his whole ‘capture the avatar to avenge my honor’ phase, but now that he’s over that hump they’ve been super cool to him.

Zuko’s weirdly enjoyed getting to know this group’s dynamics with each other. He’s not entirely sure how he fits in yet, but that’s not even his biggest concern right now. Actually, his biggest concern right now might be that weird look Katara’s got on her face.

“Lying is pretty unbecoming of a warrior, dontcha think Suki?” Katara grinned over at Sokka’s girlfriend, who chuckled into his shoulder,

“Do not get me involved in…whatever this is.”

“Yeah, don’t drag her into this! She wasn’t even there!” Sokka argued very loudly, his usual bickering style. He gripped onto Suki’s arm with a pout, fluttering his eyelashes. “You believe me, right?”

Suki glanced at Katara behind Sokka’s back, and could clearly see her plotting something. Katara grinned like a loon before holding a finger up to her lips. Suki giggled, “Of course I believe you. How couldn’t I believe this face?” She pinched his cheek and Sokka hummed happily. Zuko took another spoonful of soup as he watched quietly, catching on that something was about to happen. He just didn’t know what.

Then, when Katara shoved her hands under Sokka’s arms, Zuko nearly spit his soup into the fire at Sokka’s resounding shriek. Sokka quickly fell into a fit of loud laughter, toppling over his log with Katara following after. 

“Admit you’re a liar!” She practically yelled over Sokka’s obnoxiously loud cackling. “Admit it!”

“AH! Ahaha no! You–You’re crahazy!” He sputtered out, shoving at Katara’s hands to no avail. 

Zuko felt weird watching this. He’s not unfamiliar with the concept of tickling, but he’s not exactly accustomed to it either. Especially not with family. Sure, Uncle had been known to tweak his sides every once in a while when they were out on their own together, but never anything like this. Zuko took to awkwardly staring into his soup, hoping he’d fade into the background like he usually did at dinner time. 

Unfortunately for him, tonight he was sitting next to Aang. Zuko felt an elbow nudge his rib, glancing over to the smiling Avatar. 

“Y’know, Sokka’s pretty well-known for exaggerating his stories like, a lot. Katara’s told this story before and he didn’t say a thing then. He definitely deserves this.” 

Zuko swallowed some soup. “That seems likely,” he said stiffly. Zuko could feel Aang���s eyes on him at the same time he heard the scuffle quiet down. 

“That was…” Sokka panted, “so uncalled for. Did you have to do that in front of Suki? And the fire prince?!” Sokka whined, his hands thrown over his face. 

“Hey, if anyone deserves to know how much of a liar you are, it’s gonna be your girlfriend and the new guy,” Katara said proudly, standing up to grab another log for the fire. Sokka grumbled, crossing his arms as Suki wrapped him in a sympathetic hug. 

Zuko decided not to acknowledge his mentioning, not sure if he should get involved in this. Apparently Aang felt otherwise.

“Did you and your sister ever play like that?”

Oh. Okay. So that’s what Aang was thinking about. 

The crackling of the fire seemed so much louder now that everyone had gone noticeably silent. Zuko found himself staring into it.

Katara shifted uncomfortably. “Aang, maybe we shouldn’t–” 

“No no, it’s okay,” Zuko sat his bowl down next to his log. “I understand having questions.”

Aang continued looking at him with those big eyes of his, but Zuko kept staring into the fire. Talking about family wasn’t always the easiest, but felt necessary in gaining more of their trust. They deserved to know this stuff. 

“My sister and I have never really been close. We’ve had our…moments. But play was rarely on the table,” Zuko said. “Not when we both had so much on the line.”

Aang pinched his lips together in thought. “So I’m guessing tickle fights were never on the table either, huh?”

Zuko huffed in amusement, finally peeking over at Aang. “No, not really.”

“Wait, so…” Sokka spoke up, curiosity mixed with something else glinting in his eye, clearly excited about changing the subject. “Do you even know if you’re ticklish?” 

Toph barked a laugh from her rock stool. “You’re just asking cause you’re tired of being the most ticklish in the group!” 

“Hey!” Sokka exclaimed angrily before fixing his face. “Look, first of all, I’m not the most ticklish. We all know that title belongs to Aang,” Sokka nodded towards Aang, who just grinned. “And secondly, being the one that gets ganged up on all the time gets a little unfair when I’m surrounded by frickin' benders, okay?!”

Everyone but Zuko chuckled at that, which brought Sokka’s attention back towards him. “Seriously though, fire prince. Ticklish or no?”

“Um…” Zuko cringed. “I mean, yeah I guess so. Er–Uncle poked me sometimes when we were on the run together, if that counts.”

“Did you not just hear Sokka begging for his life two seconds ago?” said Toph with a chuckle. “That definitely doesn’t count.”

Zuko really wasn’t sure what to say. He’s smart enough to know where this conversation seemed to be heading, and was really unsure how to feel about that. In a poor attempt to evade whatever this was, he pulled his knees to his chest and crossed his arms over them, leaving a spot to rest his head.

While Zuko might’ve been smart enough to sense the direction these questions were heading, Aang was smart enough to sense he didn’t really feel comfortable with it. Not yet at least. 

“Sokka, can you tell that story about the saber-tooth moose lion? I don’t think Zuko’s heard that one yet.”

Sokka gasped in excitement, his train of thought successfully derailed. “Foo Foo Cuddlypoops!”

—

The next day, Zuko had forgotten all about the attention he got last night. Sure, he thought about it some when he was trying to go to sleep that night. And sure, maybe he clutched onto his midsection a little tighter than usual as he dozed off, thinking about the loud laughter drawn out of Sokka from playful hands. It didn’t…it wasn’t like he was actually thinking about it. Not in any real way. It was just something interesting to ponder on. A sensation relatively foreign to him that would probably make him laugh like he didn’t often get to do so freely. And thinking about the fact that the rest of the group seemed curious if it would work on him was definitely…it was totally nothing, really.

So like–he’s forgotten all about it now. It’s a new day, and Zuko’s got work to do. 

He and Aang had been training their fire all morning, and it was finally time for lunch. Sokka had gone fishing earlier, so they all kept to doing their own thing while he cooked over the fire (a fire Aang had lit himself, by the way. Zuko felt a weird sense of pride that Aang was seriously getting the hang of this, and using it in a way he knew would make Uncle proud).

Zuko decided on meditation while he waited. He sat on the ground shirtless, honoring his Uncle as he let the sun warm his skin and settle the fire inside him. Meditation like this seemed impossible to him just a couple years ago, his impatience once too thin and his temper too fraught. But now, it came so much easier. Zuko could feel the sun working wonders in his body, keeping his fire at a healthy state while also giving him time to clear his full mind. It was truly relaxing.

Well, it was relaxing, until he felt a set of hands scribbling at the base of his spine. “GAAHA–!” Zuko was quickly jolted out of his zone with a yelp, arching his back away with flailing arms. 

“What the–?!” Zuko whipped his head around to find Toph giggling behind him on the ground. “Toph, what the heck?! Can’t you see I’m meditating!”

“Well duh, Sparky, that’s why I did it,” She wiggled her fingers in the air teasingly with a grin. “You never even saw it coming!”

Zuko couldn’t will the flush from his face. He felt so embarrassed, getting played by a 12 year old girl like that. Zuko groaned into his palm, “Whatever, just don’t do it again. Let me finish before–”

“Lunch is ready!” Sokka yelled across camp, using Suki’s fan to waft the smell towards his friends. Zuko groaned again, scowling at the girl who couldn’t even see him doing it. 

“Time to eat, Jumpy,” Toph snickered, getting up and following the smell. Zuko rolled his eyes before throwing his shirt back on and following behind.

For the next 10 minutes the group sat around the smoky logs no longer lit by fire, eating their food and sharing how their days have gone so far.

“Guys, Zuko showed me this really cool firebending trick earlier! I’ll show you once my stomach’s settled,” Aang said excitedly, taking a bite of the berries Katara had scavenged for him. 

“It’s actually a pretty complicated move. I was surprised you picked it up so quick,” Zuko said, feeling a little shy. He was finally warming up enough to talk without being addressed first during these meal times, and silently hoped he wouldn’t get called out on it.

“Well, that’s Aang for you,” Katara smiled towards the Avatar. “Actually, it sorta frustrated me when I first started teaching him waterbending. It took me ages to master those skills, and yet it took him no time at all.” She crossed her arms at him, teasing as if it still bothered her after all this time.

“Yeah, I get that,” said Zuko. “I guess it doesn’t bother me as much since I’ve already seen all the crazy stuff he can do with the other elements. It’s not exactly new for me to see him be so…” Zuko waved his hand in the air trying to find the word, but once he did he got a little embarrassed and decided against it. “Well, you know.”

“Nooo, c’mon, what were you gonna say!” Aang grinned beside him, poking his arm. “You were totally gonna say ‘amazing’ right?”

Zuko sported a little grin of his own, peeking an eye towards Aang. “Actually, I was gonna say annoying,” Zuko lied, almost chuckling at Aang’s gasp.

“Ohoh snap!” Sokka giggled, stuffing his face with more fish. “You just gonna take that, Aang?”

Toph suddenly let her stool drop to the ground, the loud bang catching everyone’s attention. “I know how you can get him back.”

Zuko froze, staring nervously her way. Aang caught the look he was giving, and was immediately intrigued.

“Oh yeah? How so?” Aang asked, before Toph leaned in and whispered something in his ear that made them both snicker.

Aang stood up with crossed arms, unable to stop smiling. “You know, I just remembered a certain conversation we had last night about a certain weakness of yours.” Zuko’s eyes widened, his gaze darting around each person to gauge their reactions. They were all smiling, and Zuko felt a nervous twitch at the corner of his own lips.

“Cmon, seriously? I know what you told him, Toph, and that was not what you think it was. You just…surprised me while I was concentrating,” Zuko defended, trying really hard not to smile right now.

“Yeah, tell that to the giggle you let slip,” Toph snickered.

Sokka caught on quickly with a chuckle. “Oh, buddy, you are so in for it now,” he tossed his last bite of fish into his mouth. “Take it from me, it’s best to just let it happen instead of running. If you run now, everybody’s gonna come after you.”

Zuko froze, darting his eyes back to Aang towering over him. The Avatar wiggled his fingers in the air, and Zuko knew what he had to do.

With a groan, Zuko took a deep breath, puffing his cheeks with air, and tensed his entire body. He pulled his arms close to his chest and clenched his eyes closed. He was gonna take it like a champ. A very awkward champ.

But instead of the tickle attack he had expected, he heard everyone around start laughing. He peeked one eye open and saw Aang doubled over holding his stomach through his giggles.

Katara snickered behind her hand, “For a former prince, you really can be such a dork sometimes!” Zuko blushed, untensing his body.

“Sokka told me not to run so–!” Zuko waved his arms around awkwardly, unsure of what to do. He sighed behind his hands, feeling warm in the face. “I really don’t get you people sometimes.”

Aang giggled, walking behind Zuko and plopping down. “It’s okay, you’ll figure us out eventually,” he said, before digging his fingers into the back of Zuko’s ribs. 

“AH! Ahaha–wait! Aang!” Zuko sputtered out a surprised giggle before pinching his lips closed, squirming and kicking his feet into the dirt. He giggled in his throat, trying hard not to let any sounds escape his lips. Somehow, this was even more embarrassing than Zuko thought it would be.

“Oh cmon, he’s trying to hold it in!” Toph complained, pointing at her ears, “I can’t exactly see your reactions, idiot, I’m gonna need to hear it.”

Zuko shook his head, but it was getting really hard to contain himself when Aang was doing that to his sides. He kept letting out little squeaks and growls, but he could feel his chest was filling with giggles and knew it would be no time before a real laugh leaked through.

“Get his armpits! That always kills you and Sokka,” Katara called out, getting an offended, “Hey, what’s this got to do with me?!” from Sokka.

Aang listened, tickling with so much concentration his tongue poked through his lips. He tried sticking his fingers under Zuko’s arms, but the prince kept them glued tight to his sides. Aang stopped with a chuckle, looking toward the siblings. “He won’t let me in there!”

“I can’t hehelp it!” Zuko complained, but didn’t move from his spot on the log. He panted, relieved for a break, but he could tell Aang wasn’t finished just yet.

“At least try to move your arms away. C’mon, I wanna hear you laugh!” Aang said, giving Zuko a poke to his lower back. When Zuko yelped and arched away, Aang snickered and tried again. And again. And again. Aang kept poking at his back like a typewriter, and Zuko let out the quickest set of giggles before standing up and backing away nervously.

“I–I cahan’t. I really–there’s no way–” Zuko shook his head, embarrassed but clearly having some fun himself. Everyone giggled at his reaction, amused by how ticklish and unable to take it he seemed to be.

“Wait, okay, now I want a turn,” Sokka stood up from his log and walked towards Zuko with wiggly fingers. Zuko shrinked away with a nervous chuckle, his arms wrapped around his midsection. 

“Noho way, this is ridiculous–”

“Oh cmoooon! I’ll let you get me back after!” Sokka locked his hands together to beg, “Pleeease Zuko?” He pouted and bat his eyelashes at the boy. Zuko just scoffed and rolled his eyes with a grin peeking at the corner of his lips.

“You are so stupid,” he grumbled. “That’s not gonna work on me. I’m not your girlfriend.”

“Maybe not, but I think I make a pretty good argument. I’m super fun to tickle, right guys?” Sokka looked around the room. Katara shrugged.

“Eh. You’re super loud. It’s kind of annoying.”

“Katara! Help me here!”

“Er–buuuut you do snort like a pig sometimes! That’s pretty funny,” she smiled toward Zuko, who just gave an incredulous look back. “I think you should do it. He’s pretty easy to fight back if you hate it.”

Zuko took a second to think it over. No one launched towards him, no one took him by surprise. Everyone just waited to see if he’d actually be okay with it.

Spirits. Sometimes it’s really annoying how nice this group can be. 

With a sigh, Zuko spread his arms out to the side, holding his head up high (but kept his eyes closed for good measure. It’s really embarrassing to look everyone in the eyes right now).

“Alright, yes!” Sokka clapped his hands together, making his way behind Zuko. “Okay, see how long you can keep your arms up for. Aang and I play this game all the time.”

Zuko expected the tickle to come right after, but…nothing happened. He waited a few seconds, and still, nothing. Finally he got frustrated, and peeked his eyes open to see Sokka’s hands floating just above his armpits. Seeing that freaked Zuko out way more than he expected, shooting his arms down with a yelp. Unfortunately for him, all that did was trap Sokka’s hands right where they wanted to be, and they immediately dug into his armpits like no tomorrow.

Zuko shrieked, curling up as much as he could while standing before crumbling into a fit of screechy cackles and giggles.

“Oh man, I wasn’t sure that trick would work on you!” Sokka giggled, his fingertips gently but efficiently digging into Zuko’s underarms with no plan on moving.

Zuko was in stitches. He wasn’t expecting this to be so unbearable, but spirits were his armpits ticklish. He could barely get a word out, pretty much babbling nonsense through his endless laughter.

“Ahaha! W-waahaha! It-It–-gggahaha nohoho!” Zuko cackled, squirming from side to side before crumbling to his knees in laughter. 

“Finally!” said Toph, punching Aang in the shoulder happily. “Took you softies long enough to get him actually laughing! If it was me tickling Sparky, he’d probably be in tears by now.”

“And that’s exactly why you aren’t allowed to tickle him,” Katara said, watching the scene with a smile. “Not yet at least. Clearly this is new to Zuko, we don’t wanna run him off when we just got him.”

“St-stahahaha! Ahaha guys!” Zuko rolled onto his back, his body overcome with giggles when Sokka started pinching lightly at his sides. 

“‘Guys?’ Don’t look at us, it’s Sokka you’ve gotta bargain with,” Toph teased, popping one of Aang’s berries into her mouth.

“Yeah! What do I get in return for stopping, huh?” Sokka said, pinching upward toward his lower ribs. That got a real good shriek out of Zuko, and everyone around couldn’t help but laugh. 

“I-! Gahaha, I dohohon’t–fffaahaha knohohow!” Zuko threw his head back as Sokka tickled all over his ribs, finally grabbing onto Sokka’s wrists and pulling him off. Sokka pulled back with no fight, only giving him another poke in the belly to hear Zuko yelp before sitting back and letting the boy collect himself.

Zuko panted, a stray giggle escaping him as he breathed. He clutched his stomach and threw a hand over his warm face, covering his eyes. He wasn’t sure how he was gonna look everyone in the eyes after that display. Oh spirits, what was he thinking? That was such a bad idea letting them take him out so easily like that. They’ll never take him seriously again, he’s supposed to be Aang’s teacher for pete’s sake, shoot this might be really bad, this might—

“Ohoho man that was awesome Zuko! You lasted way longer than I thought you would!” Aang giggled from above Zuko’s head. Zuko peeked his eyes out and saw Aang holding up a hand for him to high five.

Zuko couldn’t help the little giggle that slipped out at that. The Avatar is so…silly. He groaned and swatted Aang’s hand away, making everyone laugh. 

“After you get Sokka back, it’s my turn to play!” Aang straightened his back quickly, making the T-stance with his arms that Zuko held just a minute prior. “I bet I can last longer than you!”

“Pfff-” Toph laughed, slapping a hand on Aang’s shoulder. “Twinkle-toes, your record is currently four seconds without begging. You should probably start thinking your bets through before making them.”

“You can go ahead and have your turn. I’ll get Sokka when he least expects it,” Zuko grinned, sitting up and shooting his attacker a mischievous look. Sokka gulped with a nervous giggle, darting towards Aang to tickle him and change the subject away from himself.

“Ahaha wait! I wahasn’t ready!” Aang cried, immediately crumbling to the floor in a fit of childish shrieks and giggles.

Zuko watched on with a smile he couldn’t wipe from his face. These people were good. They worked with him at his pace. They understood things take time for him, and they’re okay with that. 

Zuko can tell they already see him as their friend. He’s starting to think he can see them in the same light.

-

thanks for reading! consider reblogging if u enjoyed hehe <3

[siphoklansan]

In the meantime, have my sister as a TWST wonderland character!

design notes ˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡

IRL, my sister and I look pretty alike! But I guess it depends on each person. Some people think we don’t look alike at all while others think we look like twins :O! Our height doesn’t really differ either. I tried to incorporate some of Sippy’s qualities (physical appearance vibes) but my sister and I have completely different aesthetics qwq

Piggybacking from the first point, my sister is a coquette girl. She literally looks like a pinterest girl- like Sabrina Carpenter vibes. If I were to describe her properly, I’d say she’s Princess Aurora but as a brunette!

My sister, we’ll call her Allim, has really long eyelashes (especially the bottom ones like gah dayum) so I made sure to add that in the piece!

She really likes pink and ruffles, so I added those as well! I want her to look pretty and cute without leaning towards Epel’s look, so I made her look kind of like a business woman…coquette style.

Fun fact: her ear rings is what she wears daily irl! It’s a gift from her friend💖

others ˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡

You guys might notice the Savannaclw Armband. And if you’re wondering, yes, she’s sorted into Savannaclaw!

She’s not in the TWST fandom, but I let her read an analysis of each dorm-sorting-requirements and let her choose which one she’d be most fitting in. I guess it would be Pomefiore because istfg her face card never declines but chile anyways-

Imagine how surprised I was when she said, “I think I’ll be in Savannaclaw☺️” and I’m like WHAT-

Cuz imagine a coquette girl in a place like SAVANNACLAW NJDHDSUHFSUBVOSII THE THOUGHT OF IT IS SO FUNNY TO ME😭 Just a brunette Aurora walking in with bulky beastmen running laps around the dorm n shit. But I do believe that she fits that dorm. Just…not aesthetically💀 She was in the R.O.T.C once so I think she’d do pretty well knowing the dorm.

I initially wanted to draw her with the dorm uniform but BY GOD IT IS NOT COQUETTE GIRL FRIENDLY. I’ll draw that one day once I figured out the design </3

She’s really good at cooking and has a main business; she sells cookies! Her slogan is “Cookie 20 Brownie 25�� in Thai. That’s why she says it in the second panel of this post! Her cookies sell out within 3 days at MAX. She has an online shop in shoppee but only sells within the country at the moment :,))

[yuwuta]

can you assign other jjk charcters a/b/o? Like yuuta, nanami or megumi? I wanna know your heacannons

absolutely, i have thought about this extensively lmfaooo

omega satoru, but also alpha satoru works, too (tho, i am biased and learn more towards omega for him). he uses the power/influence he has to draw attention and whine about how you should be his mate. omega satoru is so unbelievably insufferable and pathetic in trying to get your attention, and then incredibly cocky and a show-off to everyone once you’re mates. alpha satoru is the wet paper equivalent of a man once he has you, he will literally bend to your every command, there is nothing he wouldn’t do to keep you happy, and yet, still, also incredibly cocky. either way, he’s the scariest. as an omega, he uses it as an excuse—bats his eyelashes and feigns innocence for attacking someone he considered a threat; as an alpha, he doesn’t feel sorry and nobody tries to get him to apologize, unless they’d also like to be on the receiving end of that treatment. also terribly horny no matter what, he is always ready to go

megumi fits all the roles in my head, so honestly, it depends on you. as an alpha he’s very nonchalant, and begrudgingly accepts his role. tho, he is possessive; he tries not to let it show/let that take over him, but it’s sort of always there and peeps through even if he doesn’t intend to. he doesn’t feel the need to glare at other alphas or be the strongest of them all, but he does like to nip at you, to make sure you smell like him at least a little bit, and he does keep an eye on you even if you’re perfectly safe. as a beta, he’s kind of apathetic to the whole mating situation and being part of a group. he’s drawn in by others—if you, or yuuji, or nobara convince them, then he’ll go along with it, and usually ends up liking it, but he wouldn’t try to seek out new people or experiences. you’d have to be the one to approach him first. as an omega, he’s not all that different as an alpha—he’s still possessive, but maybe a bit more forthcoming and shameless about it. he doesn’t pout or go crazy if you’re affectionate with your mutual friends, but he’s not nearly as nonchalant about you being close to strangers. it’s not paranoia, or distrust in you, it’s quite literally, pure, shallow possessiveness driving him—he’s your omega, and he wants your attention. and he wants to have it when he wants it. and he’s not above biting you to get it 

alpha kento…. just fell to my knees. he was born for this. he’s a very level-headed alpha; very rarely swayed by his own emotions, or preconceived alpha notions, and is aware of how his presence can affect others. he never uses his status to intimidate—honestly, he’s intimidating enough without being an alpha—he keeps a respectable distance from unmated omegas, he uses scent blockers, he doesn’t engage in petty arguments, nor does he boast just because he has the power to. extremely dependable, all of his friends feel safe with him, and are physically drawn to him even if it’s not sexually. you’ve found satoru and haibara cuddled up, asleep on either of nanami’s shoulders on more than one occasion—and nanami, immune to it all, just carries on reading his book. the only thing that really ticks him off, gets the stereotypical alpha drive going is the mention of children—especially, when other alphas try to come on to you by saying how lucky they’d be to have someone like you carry their kids. then, kento’s not above knocking someone’s teeth out. even when your friends make off-handed comments asking about if/when you’ll have kids, kento can be found snarling. it’s truly his weak spot, and it sort of embarrasses him because he seems to have no control over it, he just knows he doesn’t want anybody else but him thinking about you that way. also maybe that repressed breeding kink of his who said that 

yuuta’s an alpha to me <3 the kind that nobody suspects at first, but give him a moment to shine and it’ll all come through. he doesn’t care to come across as intimidating, but he’s undeniably at his strongest when he has his loved ones to protect, and there are so few things he wouldn’t do to keep them safe. he’s intensely loyal and protective, and takes it personally when anybody infringes upon the safety or comfort of his loved ones. you’ve seen him throw people against walls for picking on toge, seen him break another alpha’s arm because they were trying to intimidate nobara, seen yuuji and maki have to pull him off a guy solely because of the way he’d spoken to you. but if that’s not the case, and there’s nothing/nobody to rouse the aggressive alpha behavior out of him, yuuta’s the one who’s easily intimidated. when you or his friends aren’t in the picture, he doesn’t care to interact with other alphas, he finds himself feeling small and anxious; he’s gullible and always the subject of pranks within your friend group despite his alpha status; he’s shy and sometimes still stutters around you, no matter how long you’ve been together. he’s pretty malleable and not at all what you’d think of as an “alpha,” until there’s a threat nearby and he’s ready to kill someone with his bare hands. 

alpha yuuji agenda and no i’m not biased <333 he’s the kind that feels the need to provide for the people in his life. he cooks, he cleans, he lifts all the heavy boxes, he picks you up and walks you home, he’s the perfect alpha, but yuuji strives for it. he’s conscious about bettering himself and how he can use his strength and skills to serve you. he wants to be the perfect mate, but for you and you alone. lots of things come naturally to yuuji, but he’s intentional in how he treats you, and how how to be a good alpha for you. like satoru, he’s honestly more of a puppy when he’s with you, one that preens for attention and smothers you when he’s happy. and he’s very moody when he doesn’t get that attention, or when somebody else is trying to take it from him. he’s nice and all, but he’s still an alpha with a temper at the end of the day. he’s the definition of “you should see the other guy,” whenever he comes out of a fight. 

it doesn’t matter whether toge’s an alpha, a beta, or an omega, his true sub-gender is a professional brat and part-time troll. attention-seeking 24/7, gaudy with his tactics for getting your attention and then pouty whenever you’re not paying attention to him, even if it’s for a few minutes. bites. all the time, always. doesn’t even leave hickies, he leaves teeth marks. literal indentations along your arm or on your wrist or your shoulder just because he’s that much of a brat, and needs some outlet for his possessive nature. also, doesn’t have a humble bone in his body, he’ll let everyone know you’re his partner and that he’s hitting it raw because god forbid he have any tact. terrible. 

choso is like yuuji in that he strives to provide and tailor himself to being a good mate for you, but the omega version of it. choso knows what he’s good at, but he also knows he’s got his whole life to learn, and he doesn’t think there’s a better way to spend it than learning how to be good for you. he takes care of all the things you have to put off because of a busy schedule, he runs all the little errands you forget about, he learns to sew so he can easily hem your clothes, he learns to cook your favorite meals, he learns to paint so he can take care of that accent wall you dream about, hell, he’ll even learn to how to do your hair if it saves you a trip to the salon. choso will do, or learn to do anything for you; no skill is too small, no task is too detailed. he strives to be everything you need in a partner, because he doesn’t ever want to give you reason to resent or regret making him your mate :(( also… horny. all the time. always. yeah, he does these things for you, to make you happy, but he’s not above being rewarded for it, either 😇

[sentientcave]

Retirement Party

Chapter 7 - Like Water

Read on AO3

<<First Chapter - < Prev Chapter - Chapter Index - Next Chapter>

Contains: No Y/N (2nd POV but Reader is an OC), Kidnapping, Forcible relocation, Plus-sized Reader/OC, female Reader/OC, Everyone learns new things about each other, Manipulation, PTSD, Doll has a tragic backstory, Lots more introspection

~4.3k - MDNI - Dark fic! Please mind the content warning above but honestly nothing particularly bad happens this chapter either. Maybe we're rounding the corner on that.

John’s hand closes around yours, and he lets you draw him out into the rain.

He’s likely no stranger to getting rained on— It’s not hard to imagine him and his boys trudging through all manner of inhospitable climates, carrying heavy gear, on high alert for danger. But this is different. This is not about survival, not a mission with objectives to fulfill. It’s just the two of you.

John looks at you like you’re the moon and all the stars in the sky, like you can’t possibly be real. Every time he thinks he has a handle on you, you surprise him. You surprise yourself too.

You spin across the lawn until you’re dizzy and nearly stagger over. John catches you, steadies you, smiles back when you give him an unfocused grin. “Your turn,” you suggest. It would be good for him to shed his own burdens, let himself be childish, remind him that the world doesn’t have to weigh so heavy on his shoulders.

It can all be so much lighter together, somehow.

He spins twice, water sluicing off the brim of his hat, and then wraps himself around you, hoisting you into his arms to spin again, and again. You both laugh, clinging to each other tightly, and something in your chest unlocks, lets go for the first time in days. Maybe the first time in years.

You’re not afraid of him anymore.

John spins one too many times and overbalances, the two of you tipping over onto the wet grass, John uttering a soft “Fuck!” as he folds so that you land on top of him. You look down as he looks up, both of you still laughing, water dripping down your faces, catching in his eyelashes, the hat no protection at this angle. His eyes reflect back the stormy skies, turned almost gray in the early twilight.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” he asks, pushing your wet hair back from your face. “I l— I like having you around.”

“I’m starting to like being around,” you admit.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You lean down and kiss him, no more that a peck, tasting rainwater on his lips. “Lets go inside.”

It takes him a moment to register what you’ve said. The kiss, no more than the barest press of lips, has him stunned. There’s a part of you that’s stunned too, even at your own actions, even though it shouldn’t come as any surprise. You’ve known you would kiss him since the first time he kissed you, maybe since the moment that Ghost dumped you in his lap, you only thought it would take more time.

You thought everything would take more time, but John has his own gravity, a way of stretching moments into little eternities. It’s only been a few days really, but you feel like you know him. Like maybe you can trust him too.

He helps you to your feet, and you walk back to the shelter of the porch hand in hand. It feels like a new beginning for you both, something giving way between you. John has breached your once impenetrable walls, and you aren’t afraid, despite the imbalance. For all his overtures, it will be a long time before he offers himself up to you the way you must for him. John only wants to show you the best parts of his heart, but you’ll show him how to bleed, how to hold the shadows up to the light, how to hold space for all the things that make him who he is. He doesn’t have to chain up his demons like dogs out in the yard. All that hungers is starved for something denied it.

You will love all of him, or none of him. What hungers in you will settle for nothing less.

There has never been any room in your heart for settling for only parts of someone. The home you grew up in was filled with love and acceptance. Your parents loved each other, loved you unconditionally, respected each other, held space for the good and the bad, settled every argument with calm discussion. If you build a home with someone, it will be following that blueprint. If you ever do have children, you want to give them what you had.

Before you go inside, you scrub one of the towels over your head and toe off your shoes. John follows close on your heels.

“I’m going to get changed,” you say. “And then we can have tea, and talk? I think we might have some things to discuss.”

“Could run you a bath to warm up,” he offers. “Don’t want you getting sick.”

“Maybe later. Tea for now.” You move out of range before he can reach out for you, and hurry up the stairs. He wants to kiss you again— You can feel his want like the scorch of a wildfire, the heat of his eyes following you up the stairs. Only once you’ve closed the door to your room do you hear him on the stairs, his weighted footsteps just audible above the drumming of rain on the roof.

You strip off your wet clothes and stare into the closet with a grimace. You’d been wearing jeans and pullovers for the last few days, but you don’t want to pull denim on over your clammy thighs, and your only pair of sweatpants were in need of a wash even before you were taken here. Rude of the boys not to wait until after laundry day to kidnap you and upend your life. You’re not certain that wearing a cute, brightly coloured dress will be constructive, but it’s the majority of your wardrobe. The Kinsey kids had loved all your bright, swishy skirts, and it had made it easy for them to spot you when you went to pick them up from school, despite the fact that you’re so short. At least everything has a conservative hemline, coming down to mid-calf or to the ankle.

You find a blue t-shirt, a mustard coloured skirt and some tall socks that tie with a silky ribbon above the knee (and out of sight), and throw a cardigan over top of everything. It’s comfortable. You hope that John doesn’t read into it.

He steps out of his room the same time you open your door, and you meet in the narrow landing, looking at each other. He’s wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt that clings to his still damp skin, his eyes warm as they travel down and back up to your face. Heat prickles over skin that was chilled just a moment ago. “You look nice,” he says. “You always do, but this is— I mean— You just look beautiful.” He rubs the back of his neck, boyish smile sheepish.

You feel like a teenager with her first crush. Without fear to hold you back, it’s so much harder to ignore the desire that burns the tips of your ears and drips like melted sugar into the pit of your stomach. “Thank you. You look, um. Fit.”

Both of you laugh, and the tensions breaks some, enough to get you both moving again. He heads back to the kitchen, reaching it just at the kettle starts to whistle. He busies himself making tea. “I’ll get started on dinner in a minute too— Figure tomorrow we can go to the shops, get your paints, get groceries. I won’t ask you to cook, but you might like different things than I usually get.” There’s an ease to his movements now, like he’s finally relaxing too. He’s been careful not to show it, but he’s been having a hard time getting used to this new reality, same as you.

When he sets the tea to the side to steep, you touch his arm gently. “Hey, John,” you say. He turns toward you, and you wrap your arms around his middle and hug him.

He curls around you instantly, pressing his face to the top of your head. “What’s this for?”

“Do I need a reason?”

His laugh reverberates through you. “S’pose not, Doll. I just want to know what I’m doin’ right so I can keep doin’ it.”

“Don’t worry so much. I know how hard you’re trying to make this easy.” You hum, breathing in the smell of laundry detergent and rainwater and John. “Well. Easier.”

“I want to keep you,” he mumbles against your hair. “Want you to want to stay.” The shiver of raw emotion surprises you. “I’ll do whatever it takes.” There’s an edge to his voice, desperation that cuts him to the bone. He’s been alone and lonely for a long time. Longer than he’s been here, certainly.

There’s slight resistance when you pull back, like he’s reluctant to let you out of his arms now that you’ve placed yourself in them, but he doesn’t hold on. You look up at him. “You don’t have to do anything, John. We’re just getting to know each other. Most people have the luxury of taking their time. We’ve kind of been thrown together, instead of, you know, going on dates like normal people.”

“Would you let me take you out? You already look so good, we could go somewhere nice.”

“What, right now? John, it’s pouring out there.”

He looked out the window, like he had forgotten the weather entirely. “It’s always raining. We don’t have to let that stop us.”

“Actually, I think we should,” you say firmly. “We can go out another night.”

His shoulders droop slightly as he pours two mugs of tea. “I know. It’s just— Today has been good. Really good. Don’t want that to stop.”

“We don’t need to go anywhere to make it a date. We can have dinner and a movie right here.”

“Yeah?”

You nod, accepting the mug of tea he offers you. “Sure. I’d like that. Let’s get started on dinner. What can I do to help?”

He doesn’t let you help much (something you’ll have to address at some point. He’s not a bad cook per-say, but you know you’re better), so you putter around and clean up your art supplies, arranging some candles on the table. You can feel his eyes on you, and when you turn he looks away, never fast enough to hide that ridiculous, hopeful smile, his blue eyes bright. Bad beginnings be damned. Maybe you can forget how it all started— It’s not like it’s his fault, is it? He didn’t ask for his former subordinates to kidnap him a companion. All he’s done is like you, and ask you to stay.

And Lola likes him. That has to count for something.

You sit next to him at dinner rather than all the way at the other end of the table. His knee rests against yours, and his eyes flicker in the candlelight as he watches you, satisfied by your nearness.

After dinner, he washes the dishes and you dry them and put them away, your arms brushing each other occasionally. It’s nice— Domestic and cozy, so easy to fall into a rhythm with him. You catch yourself daydreaming about making it work, wondering what that could look like, and his words from the first night come back to you in a rush. We’ll have to come up with a better story for our kids.

It had horrified you only a few days ago.

Now you’re not sure how you feel.

It’s so hard to keep your head on straight with this man. You almost miss the fear, it kept you smart, kept you wary, and now you’re considering throwing caution to the wind after one good day, thinking about how it might not be so bad to give him anything and everything he wants. To trust him blindly, implicitly, and hope for the best.

You pick some movie to watch, and sit on your little red couch with your legs stretched out instead of the big one where he could sit beside you. A little distance might help you clear your head some. He doesn’t say anything, but he moves closer before the movie is even halfway through, sitting on the floor next to you with his back against the couch. You shift a little closer and drape your arm over his shoulder, and try not to giggle when he presses a kiss to the inside of your wrist.

The rest of the movie become background noise. You’re aware only of every point of contact along your arm, the way he holds your palm over his heart and rubs his thumb across your knuckles, the prickle of his beard through your sweater, the way he feels warm and solid when you shift closer still.

When the movie ends, neither one of you moves, until a question slips out of your mouth. “Have you ever been married, John?”

His head tilts back to look at you. The room is dark, barely illuminated by the scroll of white letters over a dark screen. He hesitates a moment before speaking. “Yeah. Once.”

“What happened?”

John sighs, his thumb tapping now. “We met at some party in London when we were teens. I had just turned eighteen, just graduated from the academy to the regular service, and we had this spark— I was head over heels for her so quickly. Always thought you could only fall in love like that when you’re eighteen. We got married when I was twenty but I wasn’t home much, got deployed just about right away. I don’t think she took things as seriously as I did. Can’t blame her, we were young, she was still getting her degree. I just didn’t realize how much we weren’t on the same page until she got pregnant.” His mouth set in a hard line under his moustache for a moment. “She didn’t want to be a mother, had bigger ambitions for herself. So I took a bit of leave, brought her to the clinic. It was what was best, probably for both of us, but I felt like the whole world had just fallen out from under me.”

“Oh.” You weren’t exactly sure what you had expected him to say. You bring your hand up to his opposite shoulder, half of a hug.

“I couldn’t blame her. Wanted to, but she had the right. I wasn’t home enough. Wouldn’t’ve been right for me to beg her to change her mind. But that was the end. We both walked out of that clinic knowin’ it.” He tucks his chin into the crook of your elbow for a moment, breathing raggedly. It’s not until you feel the hot splash of tears on your arm that you realize that he’s crying, and trying very hard not to.

“Oh. Oh, John, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.” You swing your legs down and kneel beside him, pulling him into your arms. “It’s so hard to do the right thing sometimes, isn’t it?”

John wrangles you into his lap like it’s nothing and presses his face to your shoulder, just breathing. You stroke his hair, making soothing sounds while he gets himself centred again. “Fuck. ‘M sorry, Doll. Didn’t want you to see me like this.” His arms loosen enough for you to pull away and look at him in the darkness.

“You’re not a fortress, John. You’re just a man. It’s okay to cry.”

“Haven’t seen you cry,” he says. “Even after everything. You’ve kept it all together.”

“No I haven’t. I just cry in the shower so you won’t hear me.” You pat his cheek, wiping away an errant tear with your thumb. “Didn’t want to break down in front of you, knew you’d fix me up. Wasn’t sure if I could trust you.”

“Wasn’t?” he asks hopefully. “Do you trust me now?”

“We’re getting there. It takes time, John.”

He huffs, a rueful smile taking over. “I know it does. Guess I’m still impatient. Want to kiss you for bein’ so sweet, makin’ everything so much better. But I won’t rush you along.”

“You want to kiss me?”

“Every minute since I met you. Haven’t I been obvious about that?”

You shake your head, laughing. “No, I mean right now. I would like to, if you’re—” You don’t get a chance to finish your sentence, because he cuts you off with a kiss, your request breaking through his restraint like water through a dam. He starts soft, cupping your face delicately, and when you kiss him back it turns languid, possessive, his tongue sliding against yours, head tipped to the side so he can get even closer.

He breaks the kiss to rearrange you in his lap so that you’re straddling his hips, legs spread wide to accommodate the size of him. Now you really wish that you’d worn jeans, just to have an extra layer of fabric separating you. This feels dangerous, like playing with fire, but you ignore the warning and let him pull you back in again, threading your fingers into his thick, soft hair.

His hands are everywhere now, sliding under your cardigan and feeling out all your softest places, the rolls above your hips, your plush thighs, gripping the curve of your ass to notch your hips closer together. He steals your breath when you let out a shuddering gasp, licking into your mouth. His want makes you dizzy— You’re not sure if anyone has kissed you like John does, like he needs you more than air. It’s frightening, but it sets a fire in your blood that could consume you in a moment if you let it. You want to burn up, let go, watch all the things that hold you back blow away like ashes on the wind.

But you’ve always been more like water.

John kisses down your throat, but he surfaces a moment later when you freeze in his arms. He sighs, thumb brushing across your jaw. “You’re not ready for this.”

“I’m sorry—”

“No. Don’t be. I don’t want you to push yourself, not when it comes to this. Don’t let me get ahead of myself, Doll.”

You nod. “I’ll try.”

He kisses you again, just softly, sweetly, slowly. And then he lets you go.

John’s hand rests on your thigh as he drives down the road. The countryside that passes by is muted, brown and gold fields, farm houses, fence posts, animals, and you see it without really paying it much mind, half focused on the texture of John’s hand under your own, the rough scars on his knuckles, the dusting of hair, the way his musculature fits together, the crooked fingers that didn’t quite set right. You can feel him smiling— He hasn’t stopped since you asked if it would be alright to go to Aberdeen, to an art store you used to go to with your mum. It’s further away, a long enough drive that you felt silly for asking, but John insisted that he didn’t mind.

Maybe he means it when he says he’ll do anything to make you happy. It’s strange, and you feel like you haven’t earned that, but it’s nice too.

Part of you is still thinking about last night, about kissing him. You feel the imprints of his hands everywhere he touched you, as though branded onto your skin. There’s a tension, although you’re not certain if it’s real, or if it’s just the slight burn of shame for the way you touched yourself after, once you’d said goodnight, one hand clamped over your mouth to keep yourself silent and the other between your legs. You haven’t been to church in a long time, but it’s hard to shake Catholic guilt even now.

You press your thighs together at the memory, and very pointedly don’t look at John. It’s better if you can believe that he doesn’t notice the effect he has on you. It saves you a little embarrassment.

Although there’s really nothing to be embarrassed about, is there? He’s not very good at hiding his own attraction, if he’s even trying. You both know it’s mutual now. It is what it is.

Once you reach the outskirts of Aberdeen, you give him directions on how to get to the art story. It looks exactly the same as you remember, even though it’s been at least a decade since you’ve been there. It’s like walking into a memory, the smell of paper and paint and the slight dusty smell of a shop with slow turnover tickling your nose. If you close your eyes, you can slip back in time, to when you came here with both your parents. You hadn’t lived far off, so you walked there on nice days, and your dad would sit on the bench outside with Rob Roy, the big dog flopped over on his feet. Sometimes you’d sit with him, when your mother got talking to the woman that worked there, but you always looked at everything first, from the shelves of ink bottles that shone like precious gems, the copic markers, every colour imaginable laid out in neat rows, the tubes and bottles of paints. You loved to touch the brushes, feel the different types of bristles. Back then the softest, swishiest brushes were your favourites, but you’d grown to prefer a hard flat brush once you’d started developing your own style.

“Are you alright?” John asks, touching your shoulder, dragging you back to the present.

You must look so foolish, standing just inside the door with your eyes closed. “I’m fine,” you say quickly. “Just remembering.”

“You know, if you ever want to talk—”

“Oh, good morning. Was thinkin’ I imagined the bell.” A friendly, round-faced woman comes bustling out from between the narrow shelves. She looks at you for a long moment, running her hand through her short-cropped grey hair. “You’re Angie’s girl.”

You nod. “Um. Yes.” You hadn’t expected to be recognized.

She steps forward and hugs you tight. “Christ almighty, s’good ta see you. Back in town ta see your gran, are you?”

“Not today. I recently moved back to the area. Not in town. Out a ways. Just wanted to come out here.”

“She’s getting back into painting, but she needs some supplies,” John chimes in.

The woman— Faye, if you remember right— studies John briefly, and then looks back at you, a conspiratorial smile on her face. “Found yourself a big, handsome fellow, did you?”

“I needed one that could get things off the top shelf for me,” you joke. “He has his uses.”

Faye chuckles. “I’m sure he does. D’you just need paint, sunshine? Or brushes, supports— Your mam like gesso boards, are you the same? We still carry the brand of oil paints she liked. Know you used acrylic when you were a girl, but…”

You start talking, and John wanders off through the store, looking around at everything. Can he feel the ghosts here too? You hope that if souls do cling to the earth, that they haunt the places that they loved, and not the ones where they died. You’d hate to think of you mother trapped amongst the flux of strangers traveling through Piccadilly Circus, or your father in some London hospital. You’d rather think of them together, here, or in the little house they’d moved to in Manchester, or on some beach in Barcelona, where they met.

“You’re a lot like her, you know,” Faye says when she rings it all up, tucking everything into the box that sits on the counter between you. John’s in the middle of carrying some canvas and boards out to the truck, already tallied up.

The observation surprises you. You’ve always seen more of your father in you. “You think so?”

Faye nods, smiling warmly. “It’s the way you talk. Some of your mannerisms. Even the way you dress, all those bright, beautiful dresses. Angie’s definitely your mam, and she’d be so proud of who you’re becomin’.” She winks as John re-enters the shop. “She might not have loved your Englishman, though. Doesna seem a bad sort, but he’s still English.”

You laugh, but it’s a bit watery. John wraps a comforting arm around your shoulders while he pays, a funny smile on his face. When the two of you settle back into the truck, he watches you for a long moment as you run your fingers over the business card Faye gave you. “What?” you ask, sneaking a glance back.

“Thank you for bringing me here.”

“You took me here.”

“No, I mean— This place means a lot to you. I’m glad you asked. It was well worth the trip to see you smile like that, talkin’ about things I don’t understand in the least.” He reaches over and squeezes your knee. “I don’t mean to pry, Doll, but what happened to your parents?”

“I don’t want to ruin the rest of the day. Let’s not talk about that right now.” You tuck the card into your pocket and buckle your seat belt. “It’s still hard to talk about.”

He nods and backs out of the tight parking lot carefully, his hand leaving your knee to brace against the back of your seat when he turns to look. “In your own time, Doll. It just clearly hurts you and I— Well, I guess I can’t help, but I can at least listen, when you’re ready.”

“Thanks, John,” you say. “We’ll get there.”

There’s a lightness in you now, like you pulled open the curtains and opened the windows in a room long left dark and closed off. It feels good to open up. It feels good to look back, for the first time in ages, like you’re returning to some vital part of yourself, an oxbow lake reconnecting to the river, sediment washing away what kept you apart.

And it’s different— You aren’t the same person you were a week ago, let alone a decade, but that’s a good thing too. You’ve been afraid to change, worried that the years would turn you into someone that your parents wouldn’t recognize.

But you carry them with you. And you aren’t afraid to change anymore.

Image Credits: Banner Dividers

[miioouu]

Hehhe🥴💕

Ghost with temperature play tho🥴💕(i think its temp play or kink but whateves its the same thing, i think??)

This request reminds me of the time when I used to write anime smut and I'm here for it!!! Also after some thorough research ;) I have concluded that yes, temp play and kink are the same. Anyway, hope you enjoy it, thank you for blessing us with your unholy thoughts bbg!

Tw: smut, temperature play, oral (fem receiving), orgasm denial, fem reader

The room was hot, sweat drops running down your spine and your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. Your body was blazing, scorching even…

The chuckle coming from between your thighs didn’t help the situation either. His warm eyes looking up at you through his long eyelashes. “What is it, love? Are you feeling hot?” He’s mocking you, for sure. And you wonder why he even bothers asking you this question, Simon would never let you talk back. In fact, he likes your silence, maybe that’s why he has his glove shoved deeply into your mouth, your drool coating it, dripping down your chin.

The room was hot, like a sauna, honestly what did you expect when your latest mission is right in the middle of the desert. Luckily though, your captain isn’t cruel enough to let you die from a heat stroke, the place he rented for you has perfect air conditioning. But your lieutenant on the other hand, he’s nasty and dirty. “Turn on the AC? We’re in the military sergeant, you should be able to handle heat” And that’s true, and you usually were perfectly fine sweating in the dry sandy air, but usually he wouldn’t have his tongue swiping at your slit, sliding between your folds to have a taste of your arousal. Usually, you wouldn’t have to hold your breath, be scared of letting out a sound, afraid that your comrades next door would hear. He took pity on you, the moments your eyes flutter, your fingers grasped his, gosh you’ve always been so beautiful to him, but something about seeing you almost slip out of conscience as you body sticks to the sheets with perspiration has really got him thinking of you as a the most beautiful angel that has ever graced the surface of the earth. “Ah, relax… I know a way to cool you down, love” He’d murmur against your soft thigh before straightening up. His hand quickly found the mini fridge, a smirk adorned his face when he saw the tray of ice cubes, that’ll definitely cool you down. He slipped one between his lips, letting it melt on the tip of his tongue slightly before going back to the place where he belonged; between your legs.

The ice cube, now a little smaller, falls from his mouth, placing it right above your bundle of nerves. The contrast between your hot body and the glacial crystal has you arching your back and a whimper of his name choked itself out from between your lips. This reaction earned you a chuckle from the man above you, his eyes shining in mischief, trying but failing to feign innocence as he kisses your inner thighs, slowly, coldly, making his way to your drenching core. Tongue still frozen, he swiped it between your folds, tasting you had him humming out loud. “You always taste so good, love.” His compliment is mumbled against your skin as he’s still sloppily making out with your heat. He sucks on your clit, the tip of his tongue draws languid circles, making sure to always add a little more pressure to that place that would usually have you hiccuping for air. His lashes flutter shut, enjoying your arousal a little too much, his nails dig in the soft flesh of your thighs. Enjoying you a little too much, his hips grind against the mattress below him. Enjoying the way you tremble and shake beneath him, not even his glove can restrain your whines for more, he can almost hear your voice in his head “More sir! Please, please, I need more, more than just your tongue” The memory has him moaning, the vibration of it making your toes curl.Oh you were so close, and he knew it.

The ice cube now long melted, the cold water running down your thighs, spilling on the sheets and whenever your skin ever so grazes the drops, it sends electricity through your body. “Still hot, hmm?” Simon teases, his voice laced with a hint of arrogance as he sees the desperation in your teary eyes. He pulls away for a minute, finding the tray again, and it isn't Ghost if he gives you warnings, right? Where's the fun in that? With that he dumps the rest of the ice cubes onto your stomach, relishing in the way you quiver and squirm, a proud smile drawn on his face.

Quickly, his hands still cold, he grabs your hips and pulls you closer to him, he hovers above you, face mere inches away from yours “What? Are you feeling cold now, sergeant? Don't worry, I've also got a way to deal with this too…”

[teddypickrwritings]

Hiiiii yaaa, im not sure if your request were open but if not, I apologies for my clumsiness, Im obsessed w your writing style... Could I ask for a one shot of Ithaqua x reader pls- or maybe.... Childhood friend!reader 😭😭 fluff fluff fluffff if you're in the mood ✨

Snowy Reunion - Night Watch x Childhood Friend Reader

A/N: Don’t apologize for being awkward, it’s okay!! And my requests are always open! I’m always in the mood for fluff stuff. 🩵

You were lonely for most of your childhood, making acquaintances but never an actual friend. Those weak friendships didn’t last for very long either—especially when Nathaniel Norwell, the magistrate’s son, started ostracizing you.

“They say that witches don’t have friends. You know what that means, (Y/N)? You’re a witch!” the boy jeered at you constantly. And because children don’t know any better, the others started shunning you as well. Your parents’ comforting words slowly lost their effectiveness as you began to believe the taunts over time.

You had sought refuge in the forest when the bullying was especially bad one day. Your parents were on a trip so you could not run into their arms. This turned out to be a mistake on your part—you ended up getting lost and nearly caught in a blizzard.

But, by some miracle, you were found. A kind woman with red hair had appeared out of nowhere and led you back to her cabin to stay for the night—and it was there you met your best friend.

He had scared you with his bright and curious face so similar to Nathaniel’s. But unlike your tormentor, Ithaqua was very kind to you. He was so happy to see another person besides his mother, and one that was his age. You answered his endless amount of questions about society but did not bring up Nathaniel. And you never brought up the mysterious woman and her son in the village. Even though you were young, you knew that some things should be kept secret.

The memory of that night, along with countless others, kept you warm as you trudged through the fast-falling snow. You couldn’t shake the bittersweet feeling that came with those memories, though. Upon your return to Leng, you had learned that Nathaniel was now dead because of a certain red-haired woman. The villagers all said she turned out to be a horrifying witch that had cursed Nathaniel and led him to his death.

She was nothing but kind, you wanted to say, but couldn’t. You only felt a small pang of sympathy for Nathaniel but not much else. He was never your friend and had treated you harshly; there was no need to shed tears. Instead, you immediately went into the forest to find the “witch’s” son.

The feeling of deja vu was overwhelming as you trekked the path to the cabin. Tears became frozen on your eyelashes as you had an awful thought: what if he’s dead too?

A sudden and distant laugh made you stop in your tracks. You were instantly as alert as a fox. “Hello?” you called out, then felt stupid. Why did you draw more attention to yourself?! The lack of response did not make you feel better. You could only hear the sound of your fearful heartbeat.

It happened in an instant—something knocked you face-first into the snowy ground, muffling your screams. You thrashed around in an attempt to get whatever was on you off, but to no avail. The creature flipped you over onto your back and both of you gasped at the same time.

“You…! (Y/N)?!”

Your fear dissipated in an instant as you recognized the voice behind an unfamiliar mask. It was muffled and a bit deeper now, but you vividly remembered that playful lilt.

You uttered his name as he took off his mask.

The black eyes and faint pupils shocked you, but other than that…yes, this man was your friend! His nose and cheeks were tinged with red from the cold just like how it always used to be. His pale blonde hair was a bit longer and fell into his face now. And the smile that was growing on his chapped lips was the same one that always greeted you when you showed up at the cabin.

“It’s you! It’s really you!” he laughed, tears in his eyes. His long and boney arms enveloped you in a tight hug that you could barely reciprocate. “You disappeared…I nearly forgot you…but you’re here!”

Now you were crying as well, but with a smile. “I’m sorry…I didn’t want to leave,” you sniffled. You didn’t mind that the snow was getting into your jacket. “My parents believed living in the city would be better for me, but I missed you every single day!”

He held you tightly as he somehow managed to stand up in his stilts. “I missed you too,” he breathed, his voice shaking. “Let’s go.”

The cabin was very rundown now compared to the cozy image in your mind. But as Ithaqua—that is what he told you to call him now—lit the fire, it looked the same in that moment. He was still unnaturally tall without his stilts. What happened to him? you wondered.

Those thoughts were pushed away as Ithaqua sat down next to you with a chipped mug of tea. Your numb fingers accepted it gratefully. “I missed almost getting frostbite and having to warm up in front of a fire,” you half-joked.

“And we would have this blanket on us,” Ithaqua added, gesturing to the ratty and faded blanket across your laps. He was much too tall for it to be draped around both your bodies, so he opted to have an arm around your shoulders as an alternative.

You took a sip of the tea and sighed contentedly as its warmth coursed through your veins. “I purposely made us stay out longer just so that could happen,” you admitted with a coy smile.

Ithaqua giggled and held you closer. “I am glad you did that. I liked cuddling too.”

The snow fell faster and faster outside as you two continued to talk about each other’s lives—well, honestly, you were the one sharing the most. Ithaqua seemed like he didn’t want to talk about what he was up to, but you didn’t mind. You just liked seeing the look of adoration on his face as you talked.

“(Y/N), look,” Ithaqua said, pointing out the window. The snow was falling in a flurry now and had already started to build up on the windowsills. “You’ll have to stay here for the night…”

“That wouldn’t be so terrible,” you said as you finished the last drop of your tea. Another wish would be coming true—you had always wanted to spend a night in the cabin, but your parents would have certainly died of fright if you did not return. Play time was always short for that reason too. With the unpredictable snow, Ithaqua’s mother always fretted that you would be unable to return home on time.

Ithaqua’s smile widened. He instructed you to wait while he put out the fire and made the bed to the best of his ability. He killed the little bugs that were crawling around with quick stabs of his claws. And after cleaning those up, he picked you up like a cat and put you in the blankets.

“Hey, just because you’re taller than me now doesn’t mean you can carry me like that!” you said with a huff. He ignored your protest as he started gathering up his strange gear. “What are you doing?”

“I have to stand guard,” he stated. His voice had a bit of edge now. “No one will hurt you while you sleep.”

You shook your head, slightly confused and exasperated. “Ithaqua, you need to sleep too. Don’t think I didn’t notice the bags under your eyes,” you said. He blankly stared at you as if the thought had never occurred to him before. But he reluctantly put down his axe and joined you under the blankets. He got comfortable very quickly; within a minute, he was hugging you again.

“You’re warm now,” he said softly. “I forgot what it was like to have another person sleeping next to me.”

The bittersweet words didn’t affect the smile on your face. You could barely see his, except for the faint glint of his pupils. “Itha,” you said, testing out a new nickname, “what if we lived together?”

“Not in the village or the city, right?”

“Of course not. I meant here,” you said with a giggle. “I’ve always wanted to come back to you the first chance I got. I hated living by myself. And now that I’m here…I don’t want to leave you again.”

You could practically feel the joy radiating off of Ithaqua. “I would love nothing more,” he chuckled. His fingers ran through your hair. “We can do everything together again. Even if it’s too childish for us now. We can handle anything that comes our way…”

“You’ve become overprotective,” you teased. Whatever else you were going to say was interrupted by Ithaqua’s lips pressing against your forehead. You were struck with a childhood memory yet again—the last time you and Ithaqua had seen each other until today.

The boy and his big blue eyes were looking at you longingly as you turned to leave for the night. Neither of you had known that you would be leaving for a new home tomorrow. But maybe he sensed something was off. He ran to you and clumsily kissed your forehead. “Come back soon, (Y/N)!” he said desperately.

“(Y/N), you’re so precious to me. You don’t even know,” Ithaqua whispered, continuing to pepper your forehead in kisses. It didn’t matter that they were a bit sharp because of his chapped lips. Each one filled you with warmth until you were practically melting. “My best friend…”

It was a little embarrassing being doted on like this. Not even your parents were this overbearing with their affection.

Oh, well. It was Ithaqua, so you didn’t mind. His kisses eased your worries and eventually made you drift off to sleep. And before you were fully unconscious, you heard him whisper the words that affirmed your decision to stay with him:

“I love you.”

[frummpets]

pls indulge me in my silly AU idea. i just wanted to draw huli jing SY, Bingge was just a bonus 😊

SY exchanged himself for SJ's freedom

he has a collar made of LBH's blood that stops him from fully transforming into a fox

LBH took SY's legs so he can never leave (i just didn't want to draw feet)

✦ TWITTER VERSION

other stuff i haven't quite decided about the au yet:

is SY here a product of transmigration or was he originally a part of this world? ▶︎ who knows. either way, he's with Bingge now 🤭🤭

is SJ related to SY? does that mean SJ is secretly a huli jing? ▶︎ i have no idea. is SY his brother? his pet? a special friend 👀👀👀?

why does SY have glasses? that's very anachronistic of you. ▶︎ i wasn't planning anything when i came up with the AU, i just wanted to draw myself some SY in fluffy fox ears. and his face looked naked without his glasses. we can chalk this one off to an airplane thing.

did LBH ever encounter SY before/when he was still a QJ disciple? ▶︎ maybe?? all i want is a morally dubious relationship with very much uneven power dynamics; i didn't really think beyond what was happening to them in their current timeline

my favorite thing: white eyelashes

@lady-dysnomia u are a legend for this

[futuristicanoe]

nightfall's descent

When you're observing me, who do you think I'm observing?

This time, it is you, who's been left wide awake for far too long.

mature themes; implied insomnia, age gap, issues. nsfw content, but there is no actual smut.

The crackle of thick paper crumpling in your hands makes Alex’s arm twitch. It must be very late, or very early, it is hard to tell the difference because the sun has already gotten into the habit of being distant at all times. It is cold. The outside world is freezing, all shades of blue and uncomfortable.

He is snoring softly. Lying on his stomach, one leg bent, his face is squashed against his forearm. He would feel his eyelashes tickle his skin if he were to open his eyes, that’s how bad it is. He looks relaxed, almost miraculously so. His stubbly chin rests on his other hand and it makes you smile. You are not sure if there is an actual smile on your face right now, but it makes something deep in your chest pulse with aching fondness and that is enough. More than anyone else could make you feel just by existing, that is for sure.

You can’t sleep.

This is normally his problem. It’s not that your sleep schedule is divine, but he needs much more sleep than you do, you have come to find out. He’ll never pass an opportunity to take a nap. On the sofa, on his favourite armchair, sitting at the dinner table —

it is, a breathy whisper of “tired today...” when he stretches his arms and sighs, then yawns and his eyes are visibly more droopy by the time he closes his mouth. Or, “I am gonna need to rest me mind after this...” when you ask him to stir the pot and he can’t tear his gaze away from everything swirling and spinning effortlessly. You know, you always know, you are gonna find him later just like this. Heavy and content, snoring softly.

Alex will do anything to avoid going to bed alone.

The unexpectedness of it had caught you off-guard at first, making you wonder what else you had assumed wrongly about him. He says he does not wanna get used to it, sleeping alone, because he has a habit of turning things into habits, and that has never been a good thing. You take it as a compliment, really, when he waits for you like a good little pet, and you didn’t even need to teach him a thing. To be more specific, it makes you want to grab him and kiss him all over, eat him up in bruising bites, and isn’t that just the best thing you could do for him? He has everything else, doesn’t he? Money, reputation, even love — adoration, fascination, obsession, — might not be the healthiest forms of love, sure, but it’s still much more than you ever got.

He is always tired after making love, too.

Making love, apparently that is what you call it now. It is just what it feels like. It’s not the bad kind of love, either. Everything he touches turns to gold, and you are just happy to be underneath him, on top of him— he is never out of reach. You are never out of his head.

It feels like a privilege to see him this way.

You put your sketchbook to the side, shutting it closed and instinctively holding your breath for a mere second to hear the soft click it makes. You reach out for him with your hand, the one you had been holding your pencil and smudging the ink with. It makes your skin rough like ash would, although, it could not be more obvious how this is not ash or dust, not the remnants of finality, but rather the opposite of it — you wanted to draw him. Couldn’t sleep, and observing him like this is as close as you can get to dreaming without shutting your eyes and falling backwards into the darkness people call “sleep”... but, no... sleep isn’t like this...

This is not still and lifeless, it is pretty radiant here.

”Dreamland?” Oh, yes. This is it.

Bizarre, pretty, yours.

Your fingers touch the softness of his eyebrow, and his eyes tremble slightly, before he sighs and moves his head to the side a bit. His eyebrows furrow. So expressive, even in sleep, even when everything outside is cold and grim, it makes your lungs ache and rattle your ribcage a tiny bit.

Nothing new.

He is mostly bare underneath the covers, you are pretty sure.

A small part of his thigh is exposed from how his leg is bent. Firm, yet soft, kissable. You pull back the covers slightly to see his knee and– there it is. The bruise.

You had bitten him in the afternoon.

He was busy coming back down to earth. You had kept him all safe and tender in your mouth for long enough to make some part of him believe in the sacredness of this thing. That it wasn’t fucking or any kind of animalistic instinct when he held your head down and an obscene noise escaped his throat. Without his permission, too, he always tries to be quiet when your mouth is full of him. As an act of showing empathy, or maybe it would feel dangerously close to silencing you, and he doesn’t want to get used to that either.

The bruise makes his skin pretty like the sunset kissed it.

You lean down to kiss it now, softly, gently. He squirms.

“Hm?”

You watch his face as he slowly wakes up. Stretching modestly like a house pet.

“What time is it?” His voice sounds somehow even rougher than usual, you feel a shiver run through your spine.

“I don’t know.”

That sobers him up, for some odd reason, and his eyes search for your face. Alex holds a hand up before he drops it next to yours.

“I was waiting. For you to come back to bed when you got up in the middle of the night. But I couldn’t‐ could not keep my eyes open, you know? I tried, though...” his voice trails off into a quiet mumble. He is apologising for something you have never even mentioned or thought about.

“I know, Alex.”

“What are you doing?”

You pick up the sketchbook again, handling it with an air of carelessness that does not belong to you. As if this part of you, which you are holding in your hand, has somehow become less important now that he is watching.

“Nothing, really. I couldn’t sleep again.”

He moves closer to you, still on his stomach. Lazy boy.

“Wanna show me?”

Your hesitation is undeniably palpable and thick in the air, he could cut it with a knife. You’d pay him to do that if he could.

Your numb fingers grip your sketchbook a tad bit tighter, with his sleepy eyes following the movement, he takes a deep breath.

“I want to see, love.”

Alex looks more awake now than he did when he woke up in the morning. He loves the sun, but it is not always there for him. It is cold now, even in the morning. Especially in the morning. Still dark, still freezing, and you weren’t there. It felt like the day after a perfect day, and he woke up not with a hazy, blurry mind but a very clear head and thoughts so sharp that they hurt.

He grows amusedly suspicious when your eyes widen with hesitation. This is not the first time.

“Is it– mmm–“ his voice turns into a soft croon, the cartoonish quality of it making his own eyes twinkle. “Is it me? In there...?”

“Huh?”

“Were you drawing me?”

You let out a huff at the accusation. “I've not drawn anything for so long. And it is literally just a rough sketch, I don’t even like it. I’m not trying to hide, it is not a–“

“But it is mine, isn’t it?” He crawls again, just wanting to be closer to you. He does this thing, getting closer to you so you can hear him more clearly, instead of just raising his voice like everybody else does. He is pressed up against your form now with a smirk on his face. Only a second or three passes as he is observing you, expecting you to hand over the sketchbook, and then he is chuckling, his face scrunching up. “Are you hiding me from myself? Come on... that is my job.”

You can’t help but laugh with him. “You always say I see you somewhat differently, though... I wouldn’t want to end up making a fool of myself or whatever it is that I'm so afraid of."

Something glimmers in his eyes, just a subtle flicker of it, and it is almost as if he never slept, once again. “Never have I said that to you.”

“Not to me, maybe, no... Does it matter?”

“Are you– hold on, tell me when was the last time you slept properly, and don’t lie.”

You almost comment on his tone, but you decide to answer him, only to realize that you can not.

His eyebrows furrow, and he sits up. It is difficult to handle this, you don't think you are ever gonna get used to it. Being so close, he looks too real. His skin is shiny under the moonlight, the tan is gone, pale again from the way he has succumbed to solitary lifestyles similar to those they teach you about in the bible. His scent... Cigarettes, is it? Something bitter-sweet and addictive like thick honey on his skin, too, and it ought to make you crave more when you let your teeth cut loose.

Not again... what was he talking about?

“Honey?”

You look at him. Alex. Al. God, he is going to get actually old one day, isn’t he? You almost wish he isn’t. You almost wish you had met him when he was younger, he could have broken your heart that way, the casual way, it certainly would have been easier. All kinds of leather were tight over his muscles back then, hair slippery and tousled and apparently perfect. Dark, but shiny like jet, steel, something solid and useful. Something you definitely wouldn’t have seemed, if you had been the one standing next to him in those messy, flashy polaroids and countless paparazzi shots.

You always had this thought about how his hair and his leather jackets shone the same way, and that thought used to make you giddy then almost teary. At least you never forgot how to fantasise and daydream about and do everything but avoid men like him, because he is actually right here now and he is... different.

“Yes.” You talk in a whisper, your voice soft and quiet like the rustling of your sheets underneath him as he shifts to caress your neck with a gentle hand.

“Where did you go?”

“I’m here.”

“Hmm. Yes, you are. I believe you now.” Alex hums, smiles. Looking thoughtful for a second before his face is hovering over yours, and he leans down to press a kiss to your neck. There is a hushed mumble against your skin. You nudge his shoulder.

“Honeysop,” he mumbles again, but this time, a giggle makes his voice sound chirpy.

“What the fuck?”

“I said... I’ve got a new nickname for you.” Alex looks down at you. (Studying your face with the expression of a man who knows he doesn’t have to tell his kid that Santa Claus isn’t real or something along those lines.)

You smile — a toothy, sweet thing to make his eyes shine even brighter. You can not help but notice the way his chain is dangling from his neck. Why must every single part of him shine like that? You touch it gently, soft fingertips warm against the cool metal. There are tiny pink marks left on his chest from how the chain had pressed into his skin in sleep. You find it soothing to watch it rock back and forth above you, and you are very sure that he is amused by that fact.

Suddenly, you find your voice again. “I think, had this been some other time, any other time, I would have asked you to fuck me right here. You know, it’s midnight, you are all just the perfect amount of wound up and silly. I can’t sleep. But... can I...” You impulsively kiss the tip of his nose just because it is the part of him closest to your lips. His eyes are wide and sweet, intrigued.

“You could pose for me... I want to draw you. And when I’m done, I won’t hide it from you, no... I could even draw it in your notebook. I know you prefer the ones with blank pages, I do, too.” Alex ducks his head slowly, listening intently, but all of a sudden, too busy leaving loving bites on your throat and pressing his lips against your heart. You grab his hair firmly, hoping to keep his eyes fixated on you.

“Then I’ll let you fuck me. I want–," You giggle when his stubble tickles the softness of your chest accidentally, but you keep going. He can feel your heart thumping faster and faster. "I want you too tired and distracted after you're done, just– too stupid to care for finding whatever the hell I drew in there. Be- because God knows it is gonna be horrible, Al, don't even..."

Alex grabs your face with a firm hand, his thumb digging into the skin near your mouth and the rest of his fingers wrap tightly around your jaw.

"Shhhhh... dove..."

You whimper quietly at his cooing, the contrast between his soft murmurs and the strength in his hand causes your mind to get filthier with each breath. And not just your mind, really, you would be pressing your thighs together right now if he wasn't straddling them so rudely. He presses his cheek against yours, his mouth just hovering over your ear. Tilting his head back for a few seconds, just to see your pretty earring up close. It makes him smile, even though he can barely make it out of the darkness.

"You've got to stop it, love, stop hiding. I need to keep seeing you, all of it, okay?"

You nod the best you can, chest trembling and hips twitching from the intensity of his words. Alex keeps hushing you as his touches travel down your torso, stopping at the waistband of your underwear. Tracing the hem, tapping his blunt fingernails over your stomach like he might do to the strings of a guitar he's yet to be familiar with.

Alex sits back, pulling away from you entirely with a huff. He grabs your sketchbook from where you left it earlier. A twitch in his bicep and a weary sigh on his lips, as if he's been forced to pick up some of kind of evidence.

You try to touch his knee, or just any part of him that you can possibly reach, but your fingers accidentally curl over him right where a bruise is still blooming and tender on his thigh and he hisses.

Cool cat... or is he, really?

It is something of a blur after that. Like you pressed a button and you are waiting to find out if it was the good one or not.

Alex takes your sketchbook and lets the poor thing covered in charcoal marks rest in the drawer of your nightstand.

The sheets he has tangled himself in bother him way too much. And they smell like you, as always, it is messing with his head right now and more importantly, it makes him want to mess with yours. He pushes them away, your relentless pawing at the worn white fabric anything but helpful.

Alex tugs at your shirt to pull it up, too, so he isn't the only one feeling cold and exposed. He clutches your waist, settling lower on the bed this time and resting his cheek on your hip. You can feel his chain touch you. He looks up.

"This– can you feel it?" He gently caresses, presses down on your lower tummy with his fingers, before moving his face slightly and planting a soft kiss right there. "This is where I need to be."

Just that sentence, the last one — it makes you cry out, your shaky hand coming down to grip his hair.

"No need for any... paper or ink or cameras. It is just us, dove. Even put the sketchbook away for you, so just let me, huh? It'll feel much better, 'cause it is more special."

A muffled keen leaves your lips when he starts to slowly slide your underwear down your legs. You didn't even realize you were biting down on your knuckles until now. Until you see the red mark you have left on your hand and the string of saliva connecting your parted mouth to it.

Alex stops when he hears the desperate noise you make, frowning. Something felt off. He lies down beside you now. Face to face. His touches turning delicate and patient, instead of demanding. "What's wrong?" He asks, sweet and every single thing that makes your heart ache all over again. He strokes your cheek, gentle warmth spreading over the parts he had grabbed and got a bit close to bruising earlier. Your eyes grow softer and so does his.

"I'm cold, Al. But if you put a blanket over me... I'm gonna get sleepy, too."

He kisses your lips once. A reward for not hiding from him again, perhaps.

Alex studies your hazy gaze for a moment. He grabs the blanket you had apparently used as a pillow when you hopped on his bed a few hours ago. Pecks your collarbone, covering the both of you with that warm blanket and he smiles as you move lazily to curl up against him properly.

It is easy for him to adore the way you cling to him, let out a soft noise when you are shifting to your side and swinging your leg over his, remembering that the only thing you are wearing is your shirt not exactly right on time.

"Pardon me, if I sound too crude, but..." He chuckles against your neck, the sound scratching his throat. "You were– well, are, fucking dripping, girl."

You giggle. "What was that word? Ah, yeah. Honeysop."

"You are ridiculous." He shakes his head and tuts when you try to move away from him, wrapping an arm around your torso and hugging you even closer than before. "No. No hiding, stay here."

There is a soft smile on your face, your mind full of fuzzy, messy bits and you are sure that feeling his warm breath on your skin must be something from your personal heaven.

Your voice comes out as a quiet, soft murmur. "I don't know what it is, but, sometimes you say things in a certain way and it just... there is this moment after I hear you, when I feel as if you could do anything you wanted to me and it would– nothing else could possibly be better than that."

Alex kisses your temple, carding his fingers through your hair. "That's a lot."

You squirm. "Maybe that's what makes it special... no? You said it was–"

"You pay a lot of attention to what I say, you know? I think that's exactly what makes it special." Another kiss. "That I trust you to see me... like I want to be seen. Not differently, you used that word, and I got a bit silly over it. It's never about differences between us. I try not to make it about them, at least."

"Always had a thing for that," you say, a bitter-sweet tint to your tone. "Contrasting subjects, juxtaposition... maybe that's why I got into painting, too. And oh, yes, there we have another difference for us to avoid admitting to, I guess," you laugh.

"Is this funny to you? Or are you just... amused by it?"

"Why?"

"You are laughing."

"I'm tired."

He could close his eyes and he would still be able to see the smile and that hidden yawn in your voice.

Alex sighs, delighted.

"I guess you're just gonna have to sleep now, then, honeysop."

[meanbossart]

Another much overdue ask compilation! Some short-ish lore asks (Gale, Gort, DU drow relationships and pet-companion preferences) and a couple of art/advice ones sprinkled in. THIS IS BY NO MEANS ALL OF MY ASKS so as usual I appreciate everyone's patience!

I actually think he'd give them a pass entirely as soon as he noticed. Correct me if I'm mistaken but half-drow get No love from underdark drow and are usually surface babies right? So that fruit is miles away from the tree lol. I think he generally has a bit of a soft spot for mixed kinds since he himself feels like an amalgamation of sorts.

Thank you! They're kind of a pain in the ass to draw at times for that very reason but man I do like the look 😩if other people like it too then that makes it all worth it!

THAT'S TRICKY TO ANSWER BECAUSE OFTEN TIMES I'M NOT... REALLY TRYING. I've draw a ton of horror comics for mine and my partner's series' SAD SACK and SORTIE, so I think it just comes naturally to me 😅 also I do genuinely find expressive and, uh, rugged faces more attractive? (I think they look rugged, again that's what people tell me at least.)

I think the secret might be adding bits of realism in there. I get a lot of comments about the wrinkles and eyelashes I add to my art, as well as the way I draw individual teeth (though I've lately been making an effort to simplify my style in favor of drawing faster, so I haven't done that as much or in as much detail.)

Both symmetry and the lack of it can also add to that effect. I have employed both facial unevenness and almost point-perfect symmetry to achieve something a little frightening or otherworldly in my work. [MORE UNDER THE CUT]

Thank you so much!!! The contrast is very much intentional, that's what DU drow's character is all about ;)

Hahah well I somewhat doubt Bhaal would care that his spawn gets named, but either way he stripped himself of his name as soon as he killed his foster parents and abandoned the Underdark. He had a drow name that I jotted down somewhere but it's completely irrelevant because nobody has used it since he was a child, and he doesn't remember it (even pre-tadpole/having his brain scrambled.) Here's a little write up about his origins that might shed some more light on that: https://meanbossart.tumblr.com/post/739688837431836672/did-drow-ever-have-a-childhood-before-the-temple

And about his original drow-given name and the reason behind it: https://meanbossart.tumblr.com/post/741350986692591616/drow-had-to-have-been-given-a-name-by-his-adoptive

Everyone just referred to him as his supposed race, or as Bhaalspawn or Bhaal's child, and any other similar titles. Orin called him "kin" and "brother" and Gortash likely called him his associate. Post-tadpole the camp grows entirely used to calling him "the drow" and he has no desire to change that or to choose a proper name.

THANK YOU BOTH SO MUCH😭 no reason to be intimidated, I'm just some rando drawing BG3 fan art LOL I've been drawing since I was a child, and started taking it semi-seriously when I was 16 years old, so twelve years ago! That's around the time where I got my first non-display tabled and used that well into my twenties, prior to that I only did stuff on paper and liked to do inks color with pencils. I never really ventured into traditional painting at all except for a little bit of water-coloring in college.

Traditional and Digital art are very much different beasts. Which one you want to start with is, in my opinion, just dependent on what you want to do. Digital art gives you a lot of tools that makes learning easier, but you might find yourself having much steeper of a learning curve if you ever decide to do traditional art instead. If you want to be good at both, you need to practice both, since the skill doesn't entirely translate from one medium to the other.

Naturally you will be able to draw well on either, it's just... Different. I will say though, that I think if you're still learning you should use whatever allows you to look directly at what your hand is doing, so either traditional or display tablet/Ipad. I have no idea what a non-display tablet would do to a beginner, but remembering my experience with it I feel like it might be a huge detriment to developing the skill (feel free to share your experiences in the replies if you disagree, as I would definitely be curious to read them!)

YOU KNOW ME BABY IT WAS MESSY AND COMPLICATED the tldr.: is that they were "buddies", absolutely no romance intended there on either mine or DU drow's part, but due to his nature the friendship was extremely weird.

Here's a couple of replies where I go into more detail about it: https://meanbossart.tumblr.com/post/739191190871818240/i-dont-have-a-particular-question-in-mind-sorry

https://meanbossart.tumblr.com/post/744952815768764416/so-not-sure-if-youve-covered-this-but-i-thought

That's definitely reserved for the vamp LOL DU drow very much enjoys when Astarion teases and fusses over him, and while Astarion probably got a kick out of acting that way around such a big and scary looking guy at first, I think by "now" (later and post-game) he's pretty much immune to DU drow's looks and just enjoys doing it in earnest.

He's not at all averse to being touched (even rather intimately) by close friends, but he wouldn't be quite THAT vulnerable with anyone else.

HE REALLY DISLIKED GALE... He irked him out by seemingly fostering a rather persistent romantic interest in him for at least half the time they spent together (very much based on my interpretation of their in-game interactions at the time, though my Gale might have been a little bugged.)

But also they had a... Fairly in depth relationship still? Gale was a staple in my party, and even though I antagonized him constantly by the end of the game it still felt like they had so much weight in each other's lives, if that makes sense. I might need to do a bit of an "update" on the DU Drow/Gale lore sometime, I feel like I've had some thoughts since that warrant more exploration of their dynamic (you can find a lot of old asks about it if you just search the Gale Dekarios tag in my blog though).

The gist of it is that DU drow found him arrogant and duplicitous, his constant optimist irritated him to no end and felt like it veiled a stream of self-pity (two things DU drow despises) Gale's attempts to get through to him only added insult to injury. By the end of the game he decided to pursue the crown of Karsus and this only lost him even more respect in Drow's eyes, seeing as he doesn't value godly power at all.

I was pretty overwhelmed by the game at the start so I actually missed a lot LOL including Scratch. I did get the owlbear cub though, which DU drow gladly welcomed into camp since it was injured - but I think he would have wished for it to remain a wild animal and to return back to it's home after it had grown up a bit. He didn't really make a "pet" out of it more than he just looked after the little guy in the way it's mother might have, probably with Shadowheart's help.

He wouldn't be opposed to proper pets though if one were to stumble into his life. He'd definitely be more of a cat guy because of their independence and strong little attitudes.

It is very hard to build proper rapport with him. He will be "friendly" to most people who have a good sense of humor about them, but friendSHIP is another thing entirely.

I think it's kind of circumstantial. He's very economical in his relationships and doesn't really seek them out at all - so a situation where he's forced to be in someone's company might be the only way to develop a bond with him, as he doesn't appreciate insistence either and that's more likely to push him away. He doesn't value status or titles either (kind of looks down on them really) so that won't help.

I think he just likes people who are true to themselves and their nature, sometimes even if the nature is one he disagrees with at it's core. This is why he liked Gortash, why he and Shadowheart got along so well, and why him and Astarion fit together so seamlessly despite seeming so different. Likewise I think it's why he didn't jive with people like Gale or Wyll, because they seemed to be rather... Dishonest with themselves and their own end-goals.

[some-little-infamy]

Tommy, Bothered and Bewildered

(Read on AO3)

Tommy isn’t sure what to expect when he knocks on Evan’s door and asks if they can talk, he just knows that he has to say something, because things can’t keep going on the way that they currently are.

He’s seen the friendship that Evan and Eddie have, and he has his suspicions that it might run deeper than anyone else knows about, at least on an open level. That isn’t something he’s willing to get in the middle of.

But he doesn’t want to stop spending time with them, either. He wants to teach Evan how to fly, and grab that beer with him sometime. He wants to keep going to fights with Eddie and spend some more time around that great kid of his.

None of that is going to happen if he doesn’t clear the air about the building tension they’re all feeling. In a way, he’s glad it all came to a head at the basketball game. That gave him an excuse to bring it up without feeling weird about it, like he was assuming anyone cared about him any more than they did.

“Can I get you something? I still owe you a beer, right?” Evan offers.

“No, I’m good. I won’t stay long. I just wanted to clear the air and I didn’t want to do it over the phone or in a text or something,” Tommy waves the offer off. He has a shift after this, anyway. But the truth is that he wanted to see Evan. He wanted to be here, to look him in the eyes, and swear that he knows what Eddie means to him. Promise that he never meant to get in the middle of that.

Of course, there’s more to it than that. Tommy would be lying if he didn’t admit to himself that he hated having to turn down that first offer to go out for drinks, even if his plans for the fight in Vegas were huge, because honestly? If he knew the offer would be on the table he would’ve given up the tickets in a heartbeat. There’s just something about Evan that draws him in, that makes him want to know more.

But that isn’t why he’s here, not really.

They have the talk, awkward at moments but a relief in the end. Tommy apologizes, and surprisingly, Evan takes full ownership of the way he reacted as bad behavior on his part. Tommy doesn’t know much about Evan, but he feels like he knows enough to know that that’s a pretty big deal for him to admit.

  “I mean it’s not like I could ever replace you. Christopher would absolutely have something to say about that. That kid cannot shut up about you,” Tommy tells Evan. What he doesn’t tell him is that Christopher didn’t shut up about him because Tommy practically barraged the poor kid with questions, trying to get anything he could about what Evan likes to eat, or what he does on his days off, or what music he listens to. Fortunately and unfortunately, the answer to all of that is usually whatever Christopher asks for, which unfortunately left Tommy with little useful information, and fortunately left him even more endeared with Evan.

Then everything happens so quickly. Evan moves closer to him. He jokes about fake mouth static. They’re laughing, and sharing looks, and… Jesus, did Evan’s eyelashes just bat at him?

“I just wanted to get to know you,” Evan says finally, and Tommy’s breath stops entirely.

“Yeah?” Tommy tries, and fails, not to sound surprised. He thinks he made it pretty clear he wants to get to know Evan - the hangar tour, the raincheck on drinks, the fact that he drove all the way here today for a conversation that absolutely could’ve been a text - he isn’t hiding anything. He just hadn’t been so sure about Evan’s side of it until now.

And then the talk circles back around to Eddie. Eddie’s great. He’s a good guy, they have a lot in common, and yeah, they’re pretty good friends… but that’s it. Eddie’s in a relationship, and as far as Tommy is aware, straight. Tommy wouldn’t even think about seriously flirting with him, would never dare to cross that line. But with Evan…

There’s no doubt in Tommy’s mind now that Evan was flirting with him back at the hangar. He asked for a tour when he wasn’t seriously planning on learning, the hopeful look in his eyes when he asked Tommy out for drinks… there was something there and it killed Tommy to not be able to explore right away. He’d hoped…

…and there it is again. That damned hope.

“Just… trying to get your attention has been kind of exhausting.”

“My attention?” He thought… well, he suspected, wondered really… but maybe he was just reading too much into Evan and Eddie’s friendship.

Buck is rambling now, mentions of maiming his best friend and talks with his sister, but Tommy barely processes any of it before making up his mind on what he wants to do next. He drove here, across town before a shift, through Los Angeles traffic, not just to see Evan, but to see what potential relationship - friendship or otherwise - Tommy could salvage after everything that went down.

Tommy closes the small space between them, giving Evan just enough time to back away. He brings two fingers under Evan’s chin to lift it, and when there’s no resistance Tommy leans in and kisses him. He waits, reading every push and pull of the muscles under his touch, but Evan only leans into the kiss, bringing his own hand up to Tommy’s arm.

When Tommy pulls away and takes in the look of astonishment on Evan’s face, he knows he made the right decision.

So when Tommy has to leave - and he has to leave, because if he goes in for a second kiss he isn’t sure there’s any force in the universe that would be able to pull him away with enough time to get to his shift - he makes sure Evan knows that he wants to see him again. And again. And again.

Starting with Saturday.