#i thought i was pretty good at identifying feelings in other places....

[lokh]

[docdudo]

Familiar 141 - Young Witch!Reader

You never thought you would be in this situation, running for your life as you try to get to your grandfather's cabin near the entrance of the woods as fast as possible.

Well, that's kind of a lie. You did expect something like this to happen at some point, but why now...??

Your biggest problem has always been the fact that you were a witch, born from the humid earth near a river source and blessed by the nature spirits of the forest.

Which, okay, it wouldn't be a problem...

If you weren't a witch without a Coven.

And you were so young too. Fate really dealt you the worst cards, making you, a small witch, barely in your teen years, fend for yourself without a Coven to protect or guide you.

It was dangerous, madness even. Young witches were easy targets. They didn't really have strong magic yet, couldn't interact with nature spirits that well or defend themselves. That's why they needed the protection of the older witches, who would keep their little ones safely tucked in the heart of the coven, only letting them out when they come of age (for witches), and in small doses until they get used to the world.

You... didn't have that luxery tho.

You have no idea what really happened to you when you were born. Usually, witches from the coven would all be present to a newborn's birth, help them settle and taking them with them as one more little sprout for the Coven.

But, all you had was your grandfather's story, about how he found a baby covered in dirt by the river bank, not crying or making any kind of sound, just peacefully laying there as the forest kept it safe for who know how long.

He knew you were a witch, that much was obvious. He knew you were just born too, but he didn't manage to find any other witch living around that place, much less a whole Coven of them.

So, he took you in, which you were pretty grateful for. You though that it would be fine, i mean... sure, you didn't have a Coven, but who needed them anyway?? You were doing fine by yourself...! Especially after you managed to control a bit more of your magic! Your grandfather told you were very powerful for a baby witch, which is nice! See, you didn't need a Coven...!

Except, being "powerful" for a baby witch wasn't really... that powerful in the first place, and now, you were being freaking hunted down after a mistake you made.

Ah, being hunted down by who? That's simple.

A freaking pack of familiars, four of them to be exact.

There's one little detail about all of this... witches have familiars, powerful creatures that were the most loyal beasts you could ever have for yourself. Usually, a powerful and old witch would never link themselves to a weak familiar, even if they could grow strong with time and a good master guiding them.

And you could imagine the same would happen to the opposite situation... except, familiars were freaking bastards.

One of the reasons older Witches kept their young very well hidden and safe in their Covens is because rogue familiars hunt down little witches to force a bound with them.

While mature witches look for familiars around their same power level, powerful familiars like to take in small and young witches to mold the to their liking. Teach the little witch how to properly use their magic, be their primary guides and protectors.

And you? You were a very young witch, with no Coven on sight, and that showed a very big potential since your magic was stronger than other baby witches your age.

You were a prime target.

And you were being hunted down by four bastards that were toying with you the whole chase.

You could tell they were powerful, just not... how powerful. Since you were still too young, it was quite difficult to identify these things. It's like you could feel the heat of the flame but not see how big the flame was.

But you had a hunch they were... very powerful... at least, that's what you thought, since there were four of them, bounded together. It means their last witch was probably old and strong enough to have four of these big beasts.

Not that your theory matters now, not when you are trying to run in this stupid thick forest from four big familiars that you could hear laughing and taunting you.

Tauting you gently, at most. They already knew they had you.

You already knew they had you.

Still, you were running, even if just because you were high in adrenaline and refused to just stop.

That is, until you fell harshly on the ground after tripping over a rock or some shit hidden on this stupid dense forest.

Goddammit.

"Aww, lassie, c'mere, did it hurt?" You widden your eyes in surprise as you hear the heavy scottish accent right behind you, big hands carefully grabbing under your arms to lift you up on your feet like a kitten.

You squirm momentarily in discomfort, settling down a little as he puts you down and gently pats your clothes. You wish you had more fight in you, but you were still young and just took a nasty fall. It stunned you enough to barely react to the big familiar gently fixing your clothes.

"Oww, baby, it's okay." Another one of them, the dark skinned one with a heart shaped mouth, approached easily, both warm hands immediatly cupping your face to check on you. "We're sorry for making you play until you got hurt, we're not doing it again...." He coos gently, a warm smile on his face.

He looked... so happy......... freak, the scottish-mohawk guy by his side looked ecstatic, such a big smile on his face.

Well.... familiars always prefered to be linked to a witch.

You jumped a bit as you heard the rustling of leaves in the distance, eyes falling immediatly on the big black wolf behind some trees. That's certainly one big bastard of a familiar, even in his animal form...

Wait... where is the last one then...?

"Darlin', we need to talk, don't we?"

You freeze for complete as you feel a heavy, warm hand hold the back of your neck, not hurting, not ever, just... locking you in place. His voice is low and gruff, authoritarian, but it's... soft enough. Enough for you to know that he's forcing softness to speak to you.

His hand feels so damn big around your small neck...

It's okay, it's okay... familiars rarely ever hurt a witch for no reason.

Besides, they don't seen that inclined on hurting you anyway... no, you know they are ready to claim you for them.

The mess you found yourself in...

"T-Talk...?" You murmur quietly, unsure, still a bit stunned as you try to look over your shoulder.

"Wee lass just took a fall, Price, little witch like this might've gotten hurt." The scottish one says easily, smile still on his face as he approaches you a bit more to gently hold on your head, inspecting you himself now.

"She's just a tad stunned, no harm done." This voice was new, and very low. Gravelly. Patient.

The wolf familiar went back to his human form, leaned against a tree as he observed you with crossed arms and a relaxed posture. Indeed, a big bastard.

"That's why we shouldn't play with the young ones like this. I told you that they get hurt easily." The dark skinned one sighs slightly, like he was scolding the big brute by the trees.

"Boys, focus. We are not yet marked to her, and she's out here, exposed and defenseless. We're taking her home." The 'Price' guy says slowly, his authority over the others obvious by how they all straightened at his command.

"W-Wait-" You manage to find your voice once again, only to be interrupted by the scottish guy.

"The Coven?"

"If she had one, wouldn't be wandering around 'ere by 'erself." The wolf one rumbles, still relaxed against the trees.

"A baby witch without a Coven?" The dark skinned one considers, eyes narrowing.

"Sometimes it happens. Rare, but it can happen. All the more reason to get her to safety." Price rumbles back, voice getting... grow-ly, the hand on your neck heavier. "Soap."

"Aye, Cap." He smiles easily, bending down closer to your height, meeting your big, scared eyes. "Let's go, wee lassie, ye're safe." He coos, and before you can protest, one of his fingers are touching your forehead, a wave of pure magic going through you. "Nap nap time, huh?"

And just like that, you are loosing your consciousness, falling directly on his arms as you feel him picking you up easily before falling asleep.

[smileysuh]

Love, Cupid

🌙 starring. Kim Mingyu x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. “I need…” the cupid’s throat tightens and the words get caught. There are so many things he needs, he just doesn’t know where to start. Mingyu takes a deep breath, smelling your growing scent of arousal. When he looks down, your aura is practically pulsing between your legs, and it draws all his attention. He licks his lips, feeling confident this time when he says, “I need to taste you.”

tw/cw. unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), pussy worship, love drunk Mingyu, fingering, big dick mingyu, pussy stretching, hand-holding during sex, Mingyu is somewhat subby/switchy, mainly missionary to accommodate for his wings, sensitive wings, hand job, mention of birth control, multiple reader orgasms, overstim, etc… I pet names: (his) big guy.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 13.4k

🍭 aus. mythical/roman/cupid au, soulmate au, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. this man has me in a chokehold

Prologue - the accident

“I’m still not really sure why we needed a new cupid,” Mingyu confesses, toying with the elegantly curved, white bow in his hands. “But I guess if anyone is going to teach you how to do this, it should be me.”

It’s no secret that out of the twelve high council cupids, Mingyu is the one who is most obsessed with love. He lives, breathes and dreams of it. Every second of the immortal man’s life is dedicated to love, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Out of all of Venus’s children, Mingyu is the favorite, and he has no worries that training this new cupid will lead to competition in that regard. Chan seems nice enough, but Mingyu can already tell that the kid has a lot to learn when it comes to the duty of being a matchmaker.

“Our arrows are the most powerful weapon on earth,” Mingyu explains, hovering with his new younger brother over the busy city street. They each have large angelic wings that keep them aloft, and extra cupid magic makes it so they’re invisible to the human eye. Mingyu’s favorite place to people-watch is from the sky, it gives him a bird’s eye view, and an easy way to trail his targets without anything getting in the way. 

“I thought Jupiter’s lightning bolt was the most powerful weapon on earth,” Chan muses.

“It’s not.”

“Neptune’s trident then.”

Mingyu lets out a deep sigh. “Are you here to learn or not?”

“I just want you to explain it to me. How is your bow and arrow the most powerful weapon?” Chan acts as if he’s just looking for information, but Mingyu gets the sneaking suspicion that the young cupid is toying with him. He seems to be cut from the same cloth as the likes of Jeonghan and Soonyoung, who identify as more mischievous and tricksy than most deities supposedly enamored with love.

“Love is the most powerful thing on Earth,” Mingyu states, “and our tools are the makers of love, for humans anyways. Do you know how many wars were started in the name of love? How many people have died for love? Love is the most important and powerful emotion. Without it, humanity has nothing.” 

“I’m still not sure I agree with you on this,” Chan sighs.

“You don’t have to agree with me, because I’m right, and I know I’m right. Now shut up and watch,” Mingyu shushes the younger cupid, pointing at the street below. “Do you see that human?”

Chan flies closer to Mingyu, angling his head toward the elder cupid’s large bicep, looking down his arm to the point of his finger. “The pretty girl?”

“Yes, exactly! Her!” 

“Are we going to shoot her?”

“Yes, but we can’t just shoot her randomly- when we shoot her, she’ll fall in love with the first person she sees- the first person she looks at, and we can’t have her falling in love with just anyone on the street. That would be very irresponsible of us. Once shot, a soul connection forms- our arrows can never miss, and they can never be shot nonchalantly.”

“Or what?”

“Or it would be very, very bad, and as I said, irresponsible, and just… not good. Our job is to find a good match for as many humans as possible, and we can do this by looking at their auras. You see how her aura is pink?” God, Mingyu loves looking at your aura. You’ve got one of the prettiest auras he’s ever seen, and Mingyu’s been around for an extremely long time. “Each aura means something different. Pink souls are romantics, they’re soft. Pinks do best with other pinks, other pinks make them the most fulfilled. They can also manage a red, as they’ll draw on each other’s mutual passions. White auras are also suitable for pinks.”

“Yeah, I know about arua colour.,” Chan rolls his eyes. “Blues work best with blues, they can also do well with greens or purples. Greens do best with yellows, greens or blues. Purple does blue or red. I’m not in primary school.” 

Mingyu has no clue how old the new cupid is. It’s a very human joke to make- mentioning primary school. Cupids are born, sure, but they age differently than humans, faster. Mingyu supposes that as the newest cupid, maybe Chan is a representation of the times- but if he starts bringing out Gen Z humor and saying things like “this is lit” while shooting his marks, Mingyu might just have a heart attack.

“These days, pink can be a rare aura to find in men,” Mingyu admits. “I’ve considered a few red auras for her- but she’s so soft, I wouldn’t want her to be overwhelmed. Reds are prone to anger, and a pink can soften them out, but a red aura will always be red, and I don’t think I want that for her.”

“Are you always this wrapped up in the matches you make?” Chan asks. “This shit seems easy- I see an orange aura, I match them with an orange, yellow, or red. I see a pink, I match her with a pink, white or red. It’s not that serious.”

“How could it be anything but serious!?” Mingyu groans. “I told you, our arrow is the most dangerous weapon in the world- you can’t just go around shooting people randomly!”

“But you haven’t actually explained what would happen if I did,” the new cupid points out.

“I told you, it’s irresponsible.”

“Yeah, but what does that mean?”

“It means bad things would happen!”

“Bad things like what, though?”

Mingyu loves love. He’s a soft cupid. But for the love of Venus, he’s beginning to want to strangle Chan. 

Instead of answering, Mingyu’s gaze finds you again. Chan doesn’t have to take this seriously, Mingyu’s on a mission to find you a soulmate, and he’ll stop at nothing-

“Ouch!” Mingyu flinches, tearing his eyes from you and grabbing at his arm, where an arrow is protruding from his bicep. The cupid’s jaw drops, and he looks to the younger mischief maker.

“Oops?” Chan shrugs.

“Why did you do that!?” Mingyu screams, tearing the arrow out and covering the wound before it begins to drip his golden immortal blood. 

“I wanted to see what would happen if I randomly shot a couple without doing research. She’s pink. You’re the pinkest soul I’ve ever even seen- it’s a good match, no?” Chan grins. “Like… what’s the worst that could happen?”

Mingyu can’t even speak. He can’t find the words. 

Never, in the history of the world - as far as Mingyu knows it - has one cupid shot another, let alone with the intention of binding their soul to a mortal’s. 

But to be completely fair, Mingyu can’t even find it within himself to be mad at Chan. For one, he should have never given the new cupid his own bow and arrow, and maybe more importantly- Chan might have been right in binding the two of you. Because holy shit, you’ve got the prettiest soul Mingyu’s ever seen, and he’s been hesitant to match you up with someone, worried they’d be unworthy-

What’s a better fit for your pretty pink aura than his own vibrant magenta self?

One - the cupid council 

“And then…” Mingyu looks around at the council of Cupids, taking a deep breath as he gets to the climax of the report, “Chan shot me.”

“He shot you?” Seungcheol grins, adjusting in his golden throne as he looks at the two immortals in the center of the room.

“With an arrow,” Mingyu clarifies. “Yeah.”

The eldest cupid stifles laughter, lifting a hand to half cover his mouth as he giggles and looks around at the others. Jeonghan meets the eldest’s gaze, also grinning. There are mixed reactions from others, and it’s Soonyoung of all people who stands up as if this whole thing is blasphemy, declaring, “Take the kid’s arrows away!”

“Why did this kid even get made,” Jihoon groans, rubbing his temples in annoyance.

“Hey!” Chan declares, offended at the notion of him being a useless creation from their godly mother. 

“Seungkwan,” Seungcheol waves a hand, “take his arrows away.”

“Wait, no, I earned these!” Chan holds his bow and quiver close to his chest, hiding behind Mingyu when one of the other cupids gets closer to relieve him of his weapons. 

“You shot an elder cupid,” Seungcheol says dismissively. “How does that count as earning your bow and arrow, or for that matter, your wings.” The eldest eyes the small white protrusions that flutter behind Chan, who shudders at the idea of them being taken away along with his cupid tools.

“Okay, everyone relax,” Jeonghan sighs, standing from his throne to address the room. “This isn’t Chan’s fault. I’d heard Mingyu was having trouble with a mark, being indecisive- and I wasn’t the only one who heard about it. This instruction came from Mother herself. Chan was just following orders. He has earned his bow and arrow, as well as his wings.”

“This order came from Mother?” Seungcheol sits up in his chair, jaw-dropping.

Venus is generally very hands-off with her sons. The idea that she’d heard about Mingyu’s predicament, and stepped in with an idea like this- well, it’s completely abnormal, and it’s clear that everyone on the cupid council is shocked by the revelation. 

“She said something along the lines of… ‘Mingyu loves love, and it’s time he experiences it for himself.’” Jeonghan waves a hand nonchalantly, as if this is an everyday occurrence. 

“What were you doing with Mother?” Wonwoo asks, and it’s clear in his tone that he’s not entirely trusting of the elder, more mischievous cupid.

“She has favorites, you know,” Jeonghan grins. “To Mingyu, she gifted love, to me, she gifted the role of messenger.” 

“That’s some gift,” Seungcheol scoffs, but Mingyu gets the sense that Seungcheol wishes he’d been the one chosen to be privy to this information. “So Mother wants Mingyu to do what? Seduce a human?”

“Like it will be hard?” Jeonghan lets out a barking laugh. “This is our Mingyu we’re talking about. If anyone can seduce a human, it’s him.”

Two - the first meet

“Ok, but what if you shoot her too?” Mingyu suggests as he and Chan follow you from a distance, flying through the clear evening sky while you head home from work.

“Why don’t you shoot her?” Chan retorts.

“Jeeze,” Mingyu rolls his eyes at the newness of his sidekick. “You shot me, so I’m bonded to her now, which means only you can make her second connection. It’s a rule to make sure cupids don’t get in each other’s way. You shot me to fall for her, and if I shot her to fall for anyone else, that would lead to unrequited love, which isn’t fun for anyone.”

“A rule? What would happen if you tried to shoot her though? I mean, unless you and all the other cupids constantly communicate about your marks, there’s no way to know which human belongs to which cupid, is there?”

“What’s with you and breaking rules?” Mingyu sighs, rubbing at his temples. “Listen, I’m not testing fate again… also, most cities are split into small zones. Cupids stick to their zones.”

“Humans don’t though,” Chan points out.

“I’m not talking about this with you anymore.”

“Okay, suit yourself.”

“So will you shoot her for me?”

“Mmmm,” Chan makes a face. “I don’t think so.”

“What?!” Mingyu stops flying, staring at the cupid that he’s supposed to be training. “But… but I’m your teacher, and I’m telling you to shoot her for me!”

“That would be too easy though, right?” Chan flashes a grin. “Plus- that would be an abuse of power, Mingyu. You’re in love with her now, so telling me to force her to fall for you isn’t very fair, now is it?” 

“I-” Mingyu bites at his tongue. He hadn’t thought of it that way. “Well… we know I’m best for her. It wouldn’t be an abuse because we know I’ll treat her right.”

“The thing is…” Chan lets out a yawn, “I’m still not convinced.”

“So you expect me to just go and talk to her?”

“Yeah?” The younger cupid shrugs. “You’re supposed to be some sex god, aren’t you?”

“No one’s ever called me that…” Mingyu can feel his skin heating at the notion. “I’m a love cupid, not a sex god.”

“Same thing,” Chan scoffs. “Just go talk to her. Come on, follow me.” He takes a nose dive, approaching the ground at a speed that makes Mingyu worry for his safety- only for Chan to land like a pro, waving at him to hurry up.

With a groan, Mingyu follows the younger cupid, his feet touching down onto the pavement of the crowded street.

“You can’t go talk to her looking like this,” Chan explains, looking Mingyu up and down.

As immortal beings, they’re impervious to the temperatures of the evening. Dressed in a cream-coloured toga, Mingyu stands out amongst the jackets and hats worn to protect human skin from the cold. “Give me a sec,” Mingyu sighs, using some cupid magic to transform his outward appearance, conjuring an outfit he thinks might draw you in. “How’s this?”

“A suit? Seriously?” Chan rolls his eyes.

“Suits are in!” Mingyu insists.

“Yeah, if you want to look like a sugar daddy.”

“Maybe she wants a sugar daddy?” Mingyu suggests.

“Aren’t you supposed to be some human expert? She’s a pink soul, Mingyu, how many pink souls really value money over personality?”

“So you know more about humans than I do now?” Mingyu can’t believe what he’s hearing out of his ward’s mouth.

“I think love is blinding you, dude,” Chan says, reaching out to touch Mingyu’s expensive silk tie. “You’re pretending to be someone you’re not.”

“I’m rich,” Mingyu insists. 

“Sure, but you’re not a sugar daddy, you’re a cupid.”

Mingyu scoffs. “So what would you want me to wear?” 

“Blue jeans, maybe a hoodie, something that screams ‘make me your boyfriend.’”

Mingyu has to concede that Chan might be onto something, but he refuses to admit it out loud. In fact, Mingyu buries deeper into his conviction that you’ll like the suit. “This outfit is staying,” he states.

“Fine,” Chan shrugs. “Suit yourself.”

With one final grin and giggle at his own double entendre, Chan pushes Mingyu roughly, causing him to fall back and bump directly into you. The rough contact jolts Mingyu into a corporeal form, putting him fully into your visibility as you steady yourself and blink up at him.

“Oh, uh… excuse me?” You’re a little stunned- but Mingyu supposes that's what happens when a man appears out of thin air. 

“No, that was my fault,” Mingyu assures you quickly. “I uh… two left feet.”

“Right…” You look down, then back up at Mingyu, giving him a soft smile before stepping past him to continue on with your night.

Mingyu watches you in shock, then he pulls himself out of it, rushing to follow you. “I uh- I should make it up to you!”

“Don’t worry about it,” you wave a hand.

“But I do worry about it,” Mingyu insists, putting himself in front of you this time. “Here,” he conjures a flower from behind his back, holding it out to you, “Something to say sorry.”

You stop, staring up at him and then down at the rose. “You just happen to have that?” you ask quizically. “Were you trying to bump into me or something?”

“No, I just had the flower.” Mingyu would be sweating if he was a being who could sweat.

“Sure you did,” you laugh. “Look, I’m sure whatever girl you actually had that flower for would like it more than me.”

“I swear, it’s for you- look, forget the flower,” Mingyu tosses it onto the ground. “There must be some way I can make this up to you.”

“Dude, you bumped into me on the street, we’re good.” 

Mingyu doesn’t know what else to say, so he simply says, “Please?”

You let out a sigh. “If I give you my number, will you let this go?”

“Uh huh.”

“Do you have a pen?” 

Mingyu conjures one in his pocket, pulling it out to give it to you. When you take the pen, you grab his wrist, pulling his palm close so you can scrawl across it. 

The cupid watches your every action, etching it into his memory. You’re so lovely, your pretty pink aura wrapped around you like a warm halo. When he takes in a deep breath, he can smell the touch of roses in the air, a lover-girl scent-

“There,” you sigh, releasing his hand. “Now I really have somewhere to be.”

“Okay,” Mingyu murmurs, holding his palm close. “Have a good night.”

“You too, big guy,” you say, laughing to yourself as you brush past him.

It takes a moment for Mingyu to realize he never got your name and vice versa. He’s tempted to rush after you, only for a hand to clap down on his shoulder.

“Dude,” Chan grins, “that was embarrassing to watch. You have like, zero rizz.”

Three - the date

Mingyu is doing his best. He’d texted you a safe amount to plan your date. He’d picked you up in an expensive car, held doors open for you, and now, you’re eating at one of the most expensive restaurants in the city.

Even so, Mingyu can tell that something is off with you. As you pick at the appetizer, Mingyu finally gets the courage to ask what’s wrong.

“You want the honest truth?” you laugh, leaning back in your chair.

“Always.” Mingyu puts down his fork and knife, focusing on you completely.

“I’m thankful for the date,” you start. “Taking me somewhere nice is really sweet of you and everything, it’s just… I don’t know. I think lots of men these days think all girls want is money. As nice as this is- as nice as your car is, and this restaurant, I don’t think I’m the kind of girl that fits with this vibe.”

“You’re not?”

You shake your head. “You’re clearly a guy that’s well off, and I’m happy for you about that, but… I feel like when guys take me to nice places, they always expect something in return. There’s this expectation that when money gets put down, the girl has to put out too, just… in other ways.”

“Other ways? Like what?”

You scoff, giving him a look. “You know what other ways.”

Except Mingyu doesn’t know, because he’s never actually been on a date, especially not with a human. He has no idea what sort of expectations are normal, especially in your mundane world. As a cupid, he sets up the matches, but he doesn’t really follow along with the journey and see what his marks get up to after being shot with his arrow. 

“Can I be honest too?” Mingyu asks after a moment of contemplation.

“Of course.”

“I uh…” He picks his words carefully. “I don’t really date often. So… whatever expectations you think I might have, just know that I don’t have any. I just want to get to know you. That’s it. I promise.”

You stare at him, and Mingyu gets lost in your eyes. He’s more than happy to wait patiently while you think of a response, it gives him time to appreciate your beautiful form-

“You’re serious?” you ask finally.

“Uh huh,” Mingyu nods. “You seem surprised.”

“I just... You’re all handsome and dressed well, and you have a nice car, and you’ve obviously got money- I just sort of assumed you were a sugar daddy or something. Someone used to taking girls out.”

Mingyu hates the use of the term ‘sugar daddy.’ It’s clear to him that Chan was right about the vibes of his clothing choices, and the cupid will admit that the car he conjured was maybe a tad too fancy. He’s been going about this all wrong, putting up a facade, creating a version of himself that he thought you would like.

Maybe Mingyu truly doesn’t know anything about you. He just hopes this misstep isn't enough to drive you away. 

“I’ve been single a long time,” Mingyu admits. “I guess, maybe I got wrapped up in doing the things I thought you would like. I figured most girls like to be wined and dined, but I never really asked you what you wanted to do. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“Can we start over?” Mingyu suggests.

You smile softly, nodding.

Mingyu thinks about it for a moment before he comes up with a question that he thinks could redirect this whole situation for the better. “If I could go back, and let you choose what type of date this would be, what would we have ended up doing?”

“I find that first dates where we can walk around and see stuff together are kind of nice,” you admit. “Formal things like this, face to face, over food- they kind of make me anxious. And lulls in the conversation are more obvious.”

You’re very right about that. Every long moment of silence has made Mingyu’s heart race, and he’s rushed to fill it with surface-level questions that never seemed to hit their mark. It’s interesting that he’s learning about dating from you. 

Mingyu has never realized how little he actually knows about the rituals of love.

“How do you feel about me covering the bill for our drinks and appetizer, then we can get out of here?” Mingyu suggests. 

“You don’t want dinner?”

“If you want food, I’ll get you food,” he tells you, “but it sounds like you’d rather be on a walk, so let's go for a walk.”

You offer him another soft smile, and Mingyu can see the way your pink aura flutters with interest. It’s the first time you’ve really glowed for him tonight, so he knows he’s headed in the right direction with this line of thought.

“A walk would be perfect.”

Half an hour later, the two of you are walking side by side through one of the small city parks. 

You were right about the awkward pauses disappearing. Conversation is flowing steadily, and Mingyu couldn’t be happier. You tell him about your job, your friends, the things you do that make you happy, hobbies that have stuck with you since you were younger. 

Mingyu is practically overflowing with questions now, and every response you give him is committed to memory. 

“It’s such a nice night,” you say wistfully, pausing to look up at the sky, which is visible through a clearing in the tree canopy.

“It is,” Mingyu agrees, taking a deep breath and simply enjoying the moment.

That’s when a familiar cupid flies across his view, and Mingyu’s heart lurches in his chest. 

“Should we sit down somewhere?” Mingyu asks, looking at a bench a short distance away. It’s next to a large Oak, and Mingyu hopes that the leaf foliage can give him some privacy with you, away from any curious eyes.

You nod, gently grabbing onto his arm as you begin to walk.

Mingyu’s breath catches at the contact, a jolt of energy running through his entire form. He can feel his heart lurching again, but this is a much more pleasant feeling than before. His throat is dry, and he swallows thickly to clear it, skin heating into something like a blush.

He’s happy you’re not seated across from each other in some stuffy restaurant. With the low light of street lamps that line the walkway, there’s no way you’ll be able to see the flush of his skin. As much as Mingyu is a love cupid, he doesn’t want it to be too obvious that he’s enraptured with you.

He’s terrified that anything he does could scare you off, and he’d hate himself if that ever happened. 

“Anyways,” you sigh as the two of you sit down, “enough about me, what about you?”

“Hmm?” Mingyu shuffles, turning to look at you only to find that you’ve angled your body toward him, your gaze fixed on his profile.

“What do you do for work?”

“Uh…” Mingyu doesn’t want to lie to you, but he can’t tell you the full truth either. “I’m a matchmaker, actually.”

“A matchmaker?” you repeat, surprise evident in the tone of your voice.

“Yeah. I set people up.”

“I didn’t know that was an actual job.”

“There’s lots of Korean Ajummas who want to set up their daughters or relatives with good men,” Mingyu explains, opting for a white lie. 

“I see,” you nod. “A matchmaker who doesn’t date.”

“Yeah…” Mingyu clears his throat again. “Would you believe me if I said I’m pretty good at my job?”

“Maybe,” you grin. “What makes you good at your job? If not experience in the dating arena.”

“I think I’ve just always been someone who reads people. Matching is in my blood- although, after my mess up on reading you, I’m starting to wonder how successful I’ve actually been.”

“You didn’t mess up that badly,” you assure him. “And when given the opportunity to correct your misread, you did. I’m having a really good time with you now that we’re on a walk.”

“You are?” Mingyu feels like jumping up and celebrating, but he holds himself down to earth. “I’m uh, I’m having a really good time with you too.”

Instead of responding, you simply lean your head onto his shoulder, letting out a deep sigh of contentment. 

The cupid holds very still, not wanting to move a muscle in the fear that you’ll pull away.

“Do you have any family?” you ask.

“A few brothers,” Mingyu responds.

“Are you close?”

Mingyu laughs. “With some.”

“Family can be an interesting experience,” you muse.

“I couldn’t agree more,” Mingyu admits, looking out at the dark field in front of you, where Chan does another fly-by. 

 “I hate to say this, but I have an early morning work thing,” you sigh. “I should probably be getting home.”

“Wanna go back to my car at the restaurant? I can drive you.”

“My place actually isn’t that far from here, I was thinking I might just walk… but then again,” you let out a laugh, “these heels are kind of killing my feet.”

“What if I carry you home?”

You pull away from his shoulder, giving him a doubtful look.

“You don’t think I can carry you?” Mingyu asks in shock.

“It’s not that-”

“Come on,” Mingyu gets to his feet. “Get on my back,  it will be fun, I promise.”

You give him another unsure look, but finally you stand too. Mingyu turns around, bending so you can jump onto his back. The moment you’re pressed against him, he feels like he’s in heaven. He can feel your breath along the back of his neck, and it sets every inch of him on fire.

“Hold on,” he tells you, enjoying the way you wrap your grip tighter around his broad shoulders, locking your fingers together by his chest.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” you admit with a shaky laugh.

“You trusted me,” Mingyu says, “and I’m not going to let you down… until we get to your apartment.”

You giggle again, and the sound is music to his ears. 

“You’re crazy,” you tell him, and yet, your aura is buzzing so bright it nearly envelopes Mingyu with how tightly you’re pressed together.

“Something tells me you don’t mind.”

Four - the fuck up

“You know what you said about zones the other day?” Chan asks while he and Mingyu sit on the ledge of a tall building, looking down at the humans below.

“Yeah?”

“You said that cupids stick to their zones, right?”

“Yup.” Mingyu’s so annoyed by Chan he could scream. They’re supposed to be looking at auras, looking for a target for the day, but Chan’s head is off in the clouds-

“Okay, I just wanted to be sure.”

Mingyu lets out a deep breath, turning to look at Chan. “What was the point of those questions?”

“Just that… well, that’s Seokmin, isn’t it?” Chan points, and Mingyu follows his line of sight. Low and behold, Seokmin is flying two city blocks away, and it looks like he’s trailing something.

“We’re on the zone border,” Mingyu explains, but as he gets a bearing for the auras below, one stands out to him. “Shit.” 

“I didn’t know you could cuss, grandpa,” Chan laughs, but Mingyu’s already pushing off from the ledge, his large wings unfurrowing so they can beat at the air, carrying him quickly toward the other cupid, leaving Chan in his dust. “Wait! Slow down!”

But Mingyu can’t slow down, because if he’s correct, it looks like Seokmin is trailing a very familiar pink aura that weaves amongst the muted people below. 

Mingyu’s wings are large. They’re the largest of any of the cupids, and yet, as Seokmin draws his arrow, it’s clear that Mingyu’s superior size and speed won’t help him make it to his brother in time.

“Seokmin!” he yells, catching the man’s attention just as he lets his arrow fly.

Mingyu comes to a halt in the air, breath caught as he watches the arrow. It feels like everything is in slow motion, the arrow speeding through the sky toward you-

But then, it’s as if the arrow hits your aura and the pink hue acts as some sort of protective shield. The arrow falls to the ground, bursting into flower petals that melt away into the sidewalk.

“What the fuck?” Chan has caught up to Mingyu, and his words ring true to the situation. “Did Seokmin’s arrow just miss?”

“My arrows never miss!” Seokmin insists, fluttering over. 

“But that one did,” Chan points out.

Seokmin’s eyes are wide with shock. “It didn’t! It was going to hit her!”  

Chan rolls his eyes. “But it didn’t hit her!” 

Mingyu can’t even speak. His gaze is fixed on you. The arrow missed, but you’ve come to a stop in your tracks, as if you could sense the close call you’d just somehow evaded. 

“What are you two doing here anyways?” Seokmin glares. “You distracted me.”

“That’s Mingyu’s girl,” Chan responds nonchalantly.

“Who is?”

“The chick you just tried to shoot!” 

Mingyu respects that Chan is getting so worked up about this, it’s kind of like the new cupid is trying to protect Mingyu and his love life endeavors. 

“Wait, that’s the girl Mingyu likes?!” Seokmin bellows.

“That’s the girl he loves!” Chan insists. 

“Can you both just- be quiet for a minute!?” Mingyu can’t deal with their arguing anymore, not when you’re so much more interesting.

He watches you pull out your phone-

“Do arrows even work on her?” Chan asks. “We all saw that right? It like… bounced off her aura?”

“They should work on everyone,” Seokmin responds quietly. “I mean, your arrow worked on Mingyu, for Venus’s sake.”

Mingyu’s phone rings in his pocket, the pocket he’d had conjured into his toga just to hold a line of communication with you. The other cupids turn to watch Mingyu as he lifts the human device to his ear. “Hello?”

“Hey you.” Your voice is a little off. “You busy?”

“No,” Mingyu blurts out dumbly.

“Okay, good. Uh… I wasn’t sure if I should call or text-”

“Calling is good,” he assures you.

“That’s good to know.” You let out a small laugh, tucking in closer to the building and away from the busy street traffic. “It’s the weirdest thing, but you just popped into my mind. I guess, usually I let guys ask me out for a second date, and it’s only been two days since I saw you last, but I sort of just thought fuck it, I’d call you.”

Mingyu doesn’t even know how to respond. His mind is running a million miles a minute. 

“Mingyu?” you ask. “Are you still there?”

“Sorry, yeah.”

“So… do you want to see each other again?”

“Absolutely.” 

“Good!” 

Even from a distance, Mingyu can see the way you light up, the way your aura twinkles with pretty pinks and magentas. “When… when are you free?” he asks, dazzled dumb by your beauty.

“This sounds crazy, and I get it if you’re busy, but… are you around?”

“Yeah?”

“Could we meet in an hour?”

“Yeah, I’ll uh…” Mingyu has to physically give his head a shake to speak coherently, “I’ll come pick you up.”

“Can’t wait,” you smile. “Bye, Gyu.”

“Bye.”

You hang up, but Mingyu still feels frozen. It takes a moment before he’s able to pocket his phone.

“Dude, you’re still so lame when you speak to her,” Chan muses, nudging his mentor with a grin.

“We just watched her somehow block a cupid’s arrow,” Mingyu snaps, “excuse me for needing a minute.”

“Mingyu?” This time it’s Seokmin speaking, and Mingyu hates the way he immediately flashes a glare at his brother. “Sorry, it’s just… what’s that on your wrist?”

Five - the red string

Mingyu can’t seem to take his eyes off the red string around his wrist. He picks at the fine threads as he waits in his car for you to come down from your apartment. In fact, he’s so focused on the mysterious new bracelet that he forgets to get out of the vehicle to open your door for you.

When you open your own door it causes him to jump, heart lurching in fright- then he remembers where he is, and he’s quick to pull the sleeve of his sweater down, hiding the red string. “Hi,” he says, forcing a smile.

“You okay? I didn’t scare you, did I?” you grin, getting into the car.

“Sorry, I was just lost in thought. Where, uh… where do you wanna go today?”

“Well, I was going to let you choose, but I didn’t want to end up in a fancy restaurant again, so I was thinking something simple like coffee?”

“Coffee sounds nice,” Mingyu admits. “Any specific place you like?”

“There’s a cafe by the park we were at last time, I’ll give you directions.” You reach over, gently squeezing his thigh. “It’s good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you too,” he smiles, and this time, it’s not forced at all.

You make it to the cafe. After you order, Mingyu pays, and soon, the two of you are sitting in a cute little secluded booth in the corner. As you tell him about your day, Mingyu watches you take your jacket off. He admires your choice of clothes, the way the colours compliment your skin tone and the pretty pink aura you can’t even see. 

When you settle and reach for your tea, Mingyu notices something around your wrist, and he nearly chokes on his coffee. 

“You good?” you laugh, reaching out to touch his hand.

“Yeah.” Mingyu steadies himself. “Uh- what’s that red thread bracelet? I didn’t notice that on our last date.”

“Oh, this?” you look down at your wrist, lifting it a little. “It’s a long story.”

“I’ve got time.”

“You’re going to think I’m crazy.”

“Trust me,” the cupid laughs, “nothing you say could ever make me think you’re crazy.”

You give him an assessing look, but finally give in with a sigh. “Okay, so basically, one of my close friends is a witch.”

“A witch?” 

“Still think I’m not crazy?”

“You’re not crazy, but I haven’t met this friend yet,” Mingyu teases.

“Anyways,” you take a deep breath, “she prays to Venus, and she swears on her life that Venus helped her meet her fiance. We had a bachelorette party about a week ago and she got all us bridesmaids these ‘Red Strings of Fate.’ It’s supposed to help us meet our own soulmates, or so she says.”

“Huh,” Mingyu sits back, resting his hands on the table. “I’ve never heard about ‘Red Strings of Fate.’” 

“Really? But… I mean,” your gaze dips down, “you’re wearing one too?”

Mingyu’s heart lurches, and he looks at his wrist, where the mysterious red string had appeared an hour ago. “Right…”

“Did you not know about that when you bought it? Or…?” You cock your head to the side, letting out a small laugh. “Honestly, when I saw you playing with that in the car when you picked me up, I’d kind of thought you’d gotten it to match mine.”

“I seriously didn’t even notice you had yours when we were on our last date,” Mingyu admits.

“Hmm…” Mingyu can see a glimmer of something behind your eyes, and then you grin broadly. “I guess maybe it’s just fate, huh?”

“Maybe,” Mingyu laughs.

“Where did you even gets yours?”

“It just kind of appeared,” Mingyu says honestly, only realizing what he’s said as the words leave his mouth.

“It just kind of appeared,” you repeat, looking very skeptical. Even so, you don’t question it, you simply lean back, your aura shimmering. “Guess it really is fate.”

Mingyu can’t even come up with anything else to say, so he takes a sip of his coffee.

“Listen…” you drum your fingers gently against the table, “I’ve been meaning to find a date for Luna’s wedding, but it can be hard to just run into someone you want to take to something like that. Then we quite literally ran into each other on the street, and now this whole string thing… if it’s not to soon, or too last minute, if you’d want to come to the wedding next week with me, I’d really appreciate the plus one.”

“Seriously?” Mingyu can’t believe his luck, can’t believe the cute determined set of your lips when you nod in the affirmative. “I’d love to go to this witch wedding with you.”

“As long as you don’t call her a witch to her face,” you laugh. “I think she prefers the term wicca.”

Mingyu makes a cross over his heart. “I won’t do anything to mess it up, I promise.”

Six - the consensus

The council is silent after Seokmin and Mingyu’s testaments on the oddities related to you. The younger cupids look to the elders to come up with a consensus, and Seungcheol is the first to finally speak. 

“An arrow that didn’t strike, a red string, and a girl who thinks she’s a witch.” He lets out a deep sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’ve gotten yourself into quite the mess, Mingyu.”

Mingyu stays quiet, looking at his feet as he stands in the center of the council room, Seokmin and Chan on either side of him. 

For a new cupid who stands up to his mentor all the time, Chan is being oddly quiet today. He hasn’t said a word, not even when Seokmin and Mingyu were recounting the story of how your aura had seemingly repelled an arrow. Chan’s nervousness is making Mingyu even more anxious, although he’s not sure what he has to be anxious about.

“While I’m certain we all appreciate the report,” Jeonghan says, “this union between Mingyu and his human is ordained by Mother. There’s no use discussing this further.”

“She avoided an arrow. Aren’t you the least bit curious about how a mortal did that?” Wonwoo asks, leaning forward in his chair. It’s not usual for Wonwoo to speak, and the fact that he’s found this story of interest makes Mingyu’s skin tingle with more worry. 

Jeonghan makes a face, shaking his head. “No.” 

“I’m more focused on this witch,” Jihoon admits, trailing his fingers along his jaw. “Magic isn’t anything new, but I wonder if this friend’s ‘connection to Venus’ is what made our mother step in.”

“I’ve never heard of a ‘red string of fate,’” Soonyoung adds. “This all seems very suspicious. Chan, what do you think?”

Chan fidgets next to Mingyu. “Uh… me?”

“No, the other cupid named Chan.” Soonyoung rolls his eyes. “Yes, you!” 

“What do I think about what?” Chan asks dumbly.

Seungcheol sighs, Jeonghan snickers, and other cupids simply seem amused by the new cupid. 

“What do you think about all of this?” Soonyoung clarifies. “New age Venus witches and strings of fate?”

“I think…” Chan swallows, looking over at Mingyu. When he speaks again, Chan’s voice has gained confidence, and he squares his shoulders. “I think that this whole thing started when Jeonghan gave me mother’s directions to pair Mingyu up with the girl he’d been trying to match for a while. But even if I hadn’t been directed to do it, when I look at Mingyu and the human, their auras just match. I’ve never seen an aura like hers. The only aura close to it in colour is Mingyu’s. I don’t know anything about red strings of fate or witches, but I do know that nothing bad could come out of a match like this one. Or at least, that’s what my heart is telling me.”

The council is silent while they process the new cupid’s words. Mingyu can feel a warmth spreading through his chest. For a dude who’s been nothing but an annoyance and hindrance so far, Chan is growing on Mingyu.

“Chan’s right,” Seokmin says. “Her aura is just like Mingyu’s. If anyone deserves a chance to fall in love, it’s them.”

“When did you all become so sentimental,” Jihoon groans, but there’s something of a smirk under his unamused expression.

“Seokmin,” Seungcheol’s voice draws all eyes, “since you dragged yourself into this, I want you to go with Chan and Mingyu to the wedding. I trust your opinion more than Chan’s. And Mingyu, see what information you can get from the witch. Even if this is all orchestrated by mother, I want to know the ins and outs of what power this wicca believes she has.”

Seven - the witch’s wedding

Mingyu hadn’t realized that being a plus one to someone in the wedding party meant that he’d be sitting alone in the venue while waiting for the bride to walk down the aisle. He doesn’t know anyone here except for Chan and Seokmin, who are floating around eying up the singletons. Mingyu had made them promise not to shoot too many people today, but there’s already been two meet-cutes and successful matches.

The love cupid is somewhat jealous of his brothers’ ability to work, their ability to form attachments while he’s made to sit and wait. To clear his mind, he fidgets with the red string on his wrist, hidden under his suit.

The red string has become somewhat of a soothing mechanism for the cupid. It feels tangible, in an odd sort of way. He enjoys the feeling as he gently drags it across his skin, looping it over and over again-

Music begins to play through the speakers, guests turn in their seats. A young flower girl walks up the aisle, the petals she’s tossing match the soft pink dress she’s wearing, and the tie around Mingyu’s neck. You’d shown up with the fabric when he’d come to pick you up, bashfully asking him if he wanted to match with you and the bridal party. 

It was a small exchange, but it had meant the world to Mingyu. He loves the fact that he’s matching with you and your friends, loves the fact that the bride had chosen soft pink as one of the color themes. 

After the flower girl, the bridesmaids begin to file in, arm in arm with groomsmen. Mingyu studies the auras, noting that many of the people in the party have pink tones to match their outfits. He likes seeing so many pinks in one area, it’s no wonder you talk so highly of your friends, you’re all pieces torn from the same cloth. Like him.

You step into view, and Mingyu can feel his heart beginning to race. You look stunning today, even more so than usual. The joy you feel radiates off of you, illuminating your aura with shimmery glitter. 

When you walk by, you meet Mingyu’s gaze, and he feels his grin widening. All the waiting has been worth it if even for that one smile, the brief eye contact-

Venus, he loves you.

Everyone stands when the bride enters. She’s dressed in a white laced gown, with flowers in her hair, and pretty rose quartz jewelry. There’s definitely something different about her, a richness and vibrancy to her aura that screams power. 

To Mingyu’s surprise, the bride meets his eyes as she walks past, offering a small tilt to her head before she continues up the aisle. 

Mingyu thinks about the small motion from the bride throughout the ceremony. 

He hasn’t met a real witch since the dark ages. People with a true connection to the gods are few and far in between these days. Mingyu wonders what kind of power your friend holds, and what it means in regard to him and the other cupids floating around.

Even with all these wonderings, Mingyu focuses on the example of love set before him. He listens to the vows, and the grandma next to him offers him tissues to wipe away his tears. The first kiss as man and wife makes Mingyu want to cheer with joy, his heart practically exploding in his chest.

He loves love. 

When the bride and groom exit, you stand by the podium, explaining that the reception will take place in a venue two doors down from the ceremony hall. Mingyu watches you hurry out after the bride before he slowly dispurses with the rest of the guests, the kind grandma who had given him tissues latched to his arm for support.

He’s unsure of himself when he reaches the reception. There’s an entryway station that details table arrangements. “What’s your name dear?” the grandma next to him asks, adjusting some glasses on the tip of her nose.

“I don’t think I’m on the list,” Mingyu admits, scanning the seating cards. 

He tells the old woman your name and she gives him an amused look. “A plus one to the bridal party,” she nods. “Table one.”

“And where are you seated?” the cupid asks. “I’ll help you there.”

After doing his duty with the old woman, Mingyu finds himself at a table full of pink-souled love birds. They’re all gushing about the ceremony, and are more than happy to welcome the cupid into the discussion. Mingyu’s never felt so immediately at ease, and you find him this way, laughing with his new group of love-obsessed peers. 

“Hi,” you whisper, slipping into the seat next to him. 

“Hey,” he smiles, about to turn and look at you- only for your lips to press to his cheek. Mingyu’s heart lurches in his chest, his body freezing for a moment before he’s able to look into your eyes. “What was that for?”

“I’m just happy you came,” you admit. 

“I wouldn’t have missed this for the world,” Mingyu retorts, and he really does mean it.

Being with you is so easy. He’d fallen for your pink vibration, and now he’s falling for the auras that your friends exude too. 

Before Mingyu even knows it, your table is being called up for food. He sticks to your side like glue as you fill your plates, and when you begin to head back to sit down, the bride waves you over. Mingyu sticks to you even as you approach your friend, who stands from the newly wed table with a grin.

“So this must be the famous Mingyu I’ve heard so much about.” The witch grins. “I’m Luna.”

She holds out a hand, and Mingyu doesn’t even hesitate to take it. There’s an immediate jolt of energy that runs through him when their skin touch, and he swallows the lump in his throat. Luna meets his gaze with a steady smile.

“Y/N, would you be so kind as to get me a glass of wine from the open bar?” Luna asks.

“Yeah, I’ll be right back.” You squeeze Mingyu’s arm before darting away.

The cupid opens his mouth to say something, only for Luna to cut him off. “I can see your wings.”

“What?” Mingyu nearly chokes on air.

“And your friends flying around,” Luna’s gaze lifts, trailing Chan as he soars over the dance floor. “Three cupids, and yet you’re the only one with a vibrant pink aura. It’s the pretties I’ve ever seen, aside from Y/N’s, of course.”

“You really can see us,” Mingyu breathes. “My brothers, my wings, my aura-”

“I bet you thought I wasn’t a real witch, didn’t you, big guy?” Luna laughs.

“I mean…” Mingyu can’t even meet her eyes now, especially since she’s just used your petname for him. “Yeah. I didn’t think you were real.”

“Most people don’t think you’re real,” the witch retorts. “Cupids? In twenty twenty four? It’s kind of shocking, not to mention outdated.”

“We’re not outdated,” Mingyu goes to defend himself, but the look Luna shoots him makes his voice catch in his throat. 

“My first fiance was a bad match,” Luna says, capturing Mingyu’s full attention with the power of her tone. “Some white haired cupid shot me. I guess he figured I had a pink soul and this man had a red one so we’d even out. But we never did. It was bad. So bad that I started praying to Venus. When I got away from the guy, I was determined to find my next partner all by myself. A match based on actual connection. That’s how I met Jae.” Her gaze floats to her new husband, and an expression of love fills her features, her aura shimmering. “Listen. I know that you cupids try to do what you believe is right, but your matches don’t always work. That’s why I gave all my friends red strings of fate. To protect them from bad arrows… although, based off of the way you look at y/n, I’m pretty sure it’s not her who’s been shot.”

Mingyu can feel a lump in his throat. He can also feel a presence at his shoulder, and Chan leans forward to whisper, “Damn, dude, she read you for filth.”

Luna grins, looking at the new cupid behind Mingyu. “Stop shooting my guests.”

“You got it,” Chan agrees immediately. 

“Look, we don’t have much time,” Luna sighs, “but what’s the deal with this whole thing. How did you even get shot? Are you guys drinking on the job, or what?”

“Actually, Venus herself instructed I shoot Mingyu and make him fall for your friend,” Chan defends himself. “Although, he was pretty much already in love with her anyways.”

Luna’s eyes widen in shock. “Venus did this?” 

“Indirectly,” Chan nods.

“I don’t trust you guys, but I trust her,” the witch states. “I prayed to her that my friends find their soulmates, and now here you are.”

Could this really all be the witch’s doing?

Mingyu can hardly even think, he can only stand there dumbly, staring at Luna like she’s grown three extra heads and a beaver tail. 

“You have to tell y/n,” Luna says, reaching out to touch Mingyu’s shoulder. “You can’t lie to her about all of this.”

“I can’t tell her-” Mingyu tries to argue, but once more, his tongue gets caught.

“You will. And we’ll hang out again soon,” Luna insists, sounding so certain that for a moment, Mingyu wonders if she has the gift of future sight.

“Hey, you two,” you appear at Mingyu’s side, holding out a glass for the bride. “What did I miss?”

“Just your new boo being adorable,” Luna grins. “He’s a keeper, this one.”

“What?” You let out a laugh, looking between Mingyu and your best friend. “But… you usually hate the guys I go out with!”

“Well, I like Mingyu,” Luna shrugs. “Something tells me he’ll be around for a long time.”

With a lift of her glass, the witch goes to sit down with her husband again, leaving you and Mingyu shocked. As you head back to your table, you cling tight to his side. “What did you even say to her?” you whisper.

“I hardly said anything,” Mingyu admits.

“Was it an aura thing? Luna always says she can read auras-”

Mingyu nearly chokes on air and it makes you grip his arm tighter.

“It was an aura thing, wasn’t it?”

“Something like that.” Mingyu doesn’t want to get into auras with you. The witch had been pretty specific about him coming clean to you, but now is definitely not the right time. 

He’s very lucky that when you take your seats, a few of your friends immediately strike up a conversation. Mingyu hides behind the discussion, staying in the peripheries while he contemplates what his life has become.

Eight - the time to come clean

If Mingyu had been obsessed with you before the wedding, things are now on an entire other level. After his run in with the witch, you’d invited Mingyu to come dance with you. Holding you close while a slow song played had made the cupid feel in a way he’s never felt. Then, when he’d taken you home, you’d kissed him at your door step.

He can still feel the ghost of your lips pressing across his own, and when he closes his eyes, he can imagine you’re still there with him. 

It’s been a distraction to say the least. Two days have gone by since that night, with you running through his mind like an olympic level track star. 

You’d invited him to come for a date at your place, offered to cook dinner, and Mingyu’s been practically holding his breath in anticipation.

He fiddles with the string around his wrist as he approaches your home, knocking lightly on the door. His breathing is shallow, and he gnaws on his lower lip while he waits.

Mingyu can’t even help himself when you open your door, he pulls you into an immediate hug, breathing in your scent and letting out a deep breath.

“Hey, big guy,” you laugh, cuddling closer, tucking your head under his chin. 

“Missed you,” Mingyu admits.

Your giggling continues. “Luna was right about you being a keeper, mister softie.”

You invite him into your home, giving Mingyu a tour. It’s hard for him to keep his focus on anything you’re saying though. You look adorably comfortable in your cute sweatpant outfit. He’s never seen you laid back like this before, and it feels like an honour that you’re trusting enough of him now to let him witness this side of you.

Soon, he finds himself in your kitchen, doing everything he can to help you prep the meal. 

If you’re the head chef, he’ll be your line cook, and be damned happy to do it.

Talking to you is just so easy these days, especially since Mingyu can monitor your aura to pick up on the topics that truly make your heart sing. He sticks to your hobbies, your friends, things that have you glowing. He enjoys when you ramble on, as it gives him a chance to stare at your lips and imagine them on his own once again.

After dinner, Mingyu treads carefully. He’s very conscious of the fact that he’s in your home, and he’d never want to overstep anything with you.

When you invite him to watch a movie, he sits a respectable distance, but when you ask him if he wants to cuddle, Mingyu can feel his resolve getting thin. 

He shuffles over to be the big spoon, watching you carefully get in position in front of him. You snuggle back, your bum brushing by the front of his blue jeans, and Mingyu’s breath catches. His hand finds your hip, keeping you still.

You look over your shoulder at him. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” He swallows thickly. “I just uh… it’s nothing.”

There’s a knowing in your eyes, and your aura glimmers with a mischievous tint that Mingyu usually sees with Soonyoung and Jeonghan. 

You roll over,  facing Mingyu. Your gaze dips to his lips then back up again. “I’ve been thinking about a lot lately.”

“Yeah?” Mingyu’s voice cracks. “Thinking about what?”

“That wedding date was really nice,” you muse, reaching up to trace your finger along his jaw. “I asked a lot of you when I invited you to that, but you came through for me. Luna even likes you, and I don’t think you understand how rare that is.”

“I’m more than willing to please,” Mingyu admits.

“Oh, trust me, I know you are.” You let out a giggle, your aura practically humming with happiness. “I’ve also been thinking about that kiss.”

“Me too.”

“Yeah?” Your grin widens, and you tuck in closer to his chest.

“Can I… do you want me to kiss you again?”

“Mingyu,” you coo, “I thought you’d never ask.”

The cupid takes in a shaky breath, cupping your cheek and staring into your eyes before he closes the distance between your lips. The first kiss had been soft, and this one is just as gentle, however, as you slant your mouth against his own, it begins to last much longer than the first one had. 

You let out a small sigh, grabbing at the front of his shirt to drag yourself even closer. Your tongue darts out to lick at his lip and it makes Mingyu groan. His hand slips down to your hip, then the small of your back, pulling you the last few inches so you’re pressed to his chest.

Nothing has ever felt this good.

Mingyu’s spent his whole life matching humans, but now to be matched himself- there’s truly nothing like it in the whole world.

He gets lost in your lips, the way you let out more whimpers. He commits your sounds to memory, his fingers gently pressing at your skin. He’s doing his best not to be overbearing, he wants you to have all the control, and yet, he hopes it’s clear how much he wants you… how much he needs you, like the air he needs to breathe. 

Luckily for Mingyu, you don’t mind taking a bit of control. With an annoyed groan, you move to straddle him, forcing Mingyu onto his back while your knees press into the couch on either side of his hips.

Your hands find his chest, and you stare down at him.

You’re so beautiful it almost hurts.

“Is this okay?” you ask.

Mingyu can hardly find his voice, but he manages to let out a choked, “Yeah.”

You lean down, pressing your lips against him again. Your tongue tastes his own, and as he’s leaning up to deepen the kiss, you pull away. Your hand finds his jaw, pushing his head to the side so you can access his throat, where you pepper his skin. You lick at sensitive spots that have him shivering, grabbing at the couch for any grip that can keep him from floating away from how good this feels. 

Mingyu knows where this is going. He can feel the blood rushing to his cock, which presses up against blue denim. He can even feel the heat between your own legs, an unspoken need that’s only building with each passing second.

His heart thunders in his chest. He hates to do it, but he whispers your name, prompting you to slow down your movements.

“Yes, Gyu?”

“I need…” he swallows thickly, closing his eyes in concentration. “I need to tell you something.”

“Is now the right time?” you giggle, licking his sweet spot and making a shiver run through his entire form.

“I can’t- I can’t do this without telling you everything about myself.”

“Sounds serious.” You pull away, sitting up so you can look down at him with a frown. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m uh… really okay.” Mingyu does his best to steady his breathing, but with the view in front of him, it’s difficult. “I don’t even know how to tell you what I need to tell you.”

“Take your time,” you assure him, pressing your hand gently to his chest, palm over his heart. “I won’t judge you.”

“It’s not about judgment,” Mingyu sighs, placing his hand over your own. “I don’t know if you’ll even believe me. You’ll think I’m crazy or something.”

“Try me.”

Mingyu takes a deep breath. “I told you I’m a match maker.”

“Uh huh.”

“And that’s true- but… I didn’t tell you the extent of it.”

“The extent of it,” you repeat, and Mingyu can see you trying to figure out where he’s going with this.

“I really don’t know how to say this with you looking at me with your pretty eyes,” Mingyu groans.

“Here.” You lift your free hand, covering your face. “Is this easier?” your words are slightly muffled by your palm, and the goofiness of it immediately relaxes Mingyu.

“Actually, yes.” He can’t help but giggle, and you join in with him while he takes the moment to ground himself. “Okay so basically…” Mingyu takes a deep breath. “I’m a cupid.”

“Huh?” You still have your hand over your face, but it’s clear you’ve furrowed your brows in confusion.

“Luna can verify it. She’s a real witch, which…I was honestly kind of shocked at, and I’m a cupid, so if you don’t believe me about this, I get it, I really do. Listen- I was trying to match you with someone, and I just couldn’t do it. Then a cupid I was training shot me while I was looking at you, and long story short, Luna has a connection to Venus or something and Venus thought it would be a good idea if one of her sons actually fell in love, and now here I am, and it’s a mess, but… yeah.”

You’re quiet for a long moment. Your aura flutters with mixed emotions, and it makes Mingyu’s stomach twist into knots about how you’ll react.

“Can I look at you?” you ask finally.

“Sure.”

You remove your hands from your eyes, gnawing on your lip and tilting your head while you study him. “I want to see your wings.”

“You what?”

“If you want me to believe you, I think I should see your wings. You’re a cupid, right? So you must have wings?”

Mingyu considers it a for a moment. He’s never shown a human his wings before, but he’s also never fallen in love with one either. He lets out a deep breath. “Okay, but I have to be on top to show you.”

You’re quick to agree, and after a short shuffle, Mingyu finds himself kneeling between your thighs. You’re resting on your back, propped against a pillow, and you’re watching him carefully.

“I’m gonna take my shirt off,” he warns you, grabbing at the hem of his white v-neck.

You stay quiet, eyes taking in each inch of exposed skin as Mingyu slowly strips his torso bare. 

“I should tell you… I’ve been in human form when I’m with you. But when I show you my wings- when I go full cupid, you might not be able to resist me.”

You rake your gaze across his sculpted chest, enjoying the tanned skin, pretty pectoral muscles and washboard abs. “I’ve hardly been able to resist you like this,” you muse. “Dazzle me, Mingyu. I’m ready.”

The cupid takes a deep breath. When he exhales, he lets go of the walls he’s built up. He allows his full self to come into form, his large white wings taking shape behind him. When he’s human, he kind of forgets about the wings, they’re always with him, just not always physical. Now that they’re out, he can feel the temperature of your apartment, the slight cool sensation against his sensitive feathers.

Mingyu can’t help but stretch the appendages, allowing his full wing span to protrude outward from his back.

He hears a small squeak of surprise that escapes your lips, and you sit up immediately, clearly wanting a better look at the marvelous wings.

“Are you sure you’re a cupid and not an angel?” you ask, your gaze meeting his as your fingers extend to hook in the waistline of his jeans.

“I can be anything you want me to be,” Mingyu whispers.

You lick your lips, eying his wings again. “Are they sensitive?”

“More than you can imagine.”

“Can I… Can I touch?”

Mingyu stares at you for a second. No hands but his own have ever touched his wings. Cupid wings are sacred, like their bows and arrows. Mingyu doesn’t touch his brothers’ sacred things, and they don’t touch his.

But you’re not one of his brothers.

He slowly nods. He can’t find it within himself to give you a verbal confirmation, not when he holds his breath waiting for contact.

“I’ll be gentle,” you promise. It’s almost as if you can sense his hesitancy about this- although, from the tense way Mingyu’s holding his body, he supposes it’s no secret.

As one final show of trust, Mingyu adjusts his right wing, folding it around his body so you don’t have to reach so far. He watches you close the distance between your fingers and the white feathers.

When your digits make contact, a shiver runs through him. You’re quick to pull your hand away, eyes widening. “Did I hurt you?”

“No.” Mingyu shakes his head, catching his breath. “I just… no one has ever touched my wings.”

“You really weren’t kidding when you said you haven’t dated a lot.”

“I’ve never dated,” Mingyu corrects the white lie from when he’d first met you. 

“Never?”

“Never,” the cupid confirms. “I’ve had… interactions with other immortals, but I never let them see my wings. You’re the first human to ever see me. Like this, and in all ways.”

Your aura beats with adoration for him, and the emotion written across your face doesn’t need to be said. 

You wrap your hand around the back of his neck, pulling him down so his lips press against yours. 

Mingyu flattens a palm against the arm of your couch to steady himself, half leaning over your form while the kiss deepens. 

You trail your hand from his neck to his shoulder, moving slowly and gently, another wordless communication. 

When you touch his wing again, it’s not sudden, instead, it’s anticipated, and Mingyu can’t help the groan of pleasure that escapes him.

Your fingers glide over a feather, tracing it. When you repeat the motion, Mingyu thinks he might faint from how good it feels.

“Oh my Gods,” Mingyu whimpers, breaking the kiss to pant heavily against your neck while you trail your lips along his cheek bone.

“Feels good, doesn’t it, big guy?”

“So good,” he admits, his jeans feeling painfully tight now.

It’s as if you can read him. As if he’s a book that you’ve memorized, dog earring your favourite things. Each touch has him enthralled by you, and each touch is perfection.

You drag your free hand along his chest, moving down-

His breath catches when you cup him through his jeans.

He must be as hard as a rock, and you trace the outline of his bulge, teasing your digits along the tip.

“Please-” Mingyu groans, hips thrusting of their own accord, looking for any friction he can find while you continue to stroke his wing.

“Tell me what you need,” you encourage him, applying more pressure to his cock. 

“I need…” the cupid’s throat tightens and the words get caught. There are so many things he needs, he just doesn’t know where to start. Mingyu takes a deep breath, smelling your growing scent of arousal. When he looks down, your aura is practically pulsing between your legs, and it draws all his attention. He licks his lips, feeling confident this time when he says, “I need to taste you.” 

“Then taste me,” you practically purr. 

Mingyu’s had his fair share of one night stands with sirens and demi gods and other beings of the like- he knows what he’s doing as he gets off the couch and sinks to his knees. 

He grabs at you, man handling you into a position that works for him before tugging off your sweat pants.

You release a giggle, leaning back against the couch cushions while he spreads your thighs. Mingyu looks up at you, meeting your gaze as he begins to kiss up your legs, taking his time to pepper your skin.

That pretty pink aura practically blinds him as he works his way closer and closer to where you need him most. He can see a wet patch along the fabric of your panties, and he can’t help but spread your legs open even more, leaning forward to press a kiss to your clit through the silky material.

You let out a sigh of happiness as Mingyu begins to lick and prod your panty clad core. He can taste you along the fabric and it’s driving him insane. 

His fingers squeeze your thighs, and he allows you to adjust one over his shoulder- then your toes brush past the base of his wing, causing him to moan loudly. You shiver from the vibrations of it, reaching down to tangle your fingers in his hair. 

He eats you through your panties until you’re bucking against his face- until his cock is throbbing so hard he physically can’t wait any longer. 

Hooking his fingers in the fabric, he tugs your underwear down your legs, and then he’s burying his tongue in your core.

You release a squeal of delight, tightening your grip in his hair. You pull him even closer, wrapping your legs around his head as he licks your pussy like he’s never licked anything in his entire life.

The sounds you’re making now are better than all the angel songs Mingyu’s ever heard. He could listen to you whine and moan for the rest of his life.

“Fuck, just like that, oh my God- Gyu-” 

He wraps his lips around your clit and you whimper, pussy beginning to throb in preparation for the orgasm Mingyu can’t wait to drag out of you.

Your fingers tug on his hair, and the pain only makes him go harder. He sucks hard on your sensitive bud, flicking at it and groaning at your taste.

Mingyu’s eaten fruit from the Garden of Eden. He’s eaten fairy nectar and every mystical delicacy he could get his hands on. But nothing - nothing - has ever tasted the way you do. 

He could get drunk from your pussy- in fact, he already is. 

His mind is going hazy, words are losing their meaning. It’s as animalistic as Mingyu’s ever felt, he has two goals: the first, to make you cum harder than you ever have, and the second, to do it again, but with his cock.

“I’m gonna-” you whimper, rutting against his face. “Please, don’t stop-”

Your sounds get pitchier and pitchier until you let out a gasp. Your pussy clenches around nothing while he sucks on your clit, intent on drawing out your orgasm.

You begin to squirm and he holds you down with both hands, eating you out until you’re a moaning, shaking mess. 

When your grip loosens on his hair, he pulls away, looking up at you.

You’re an absolute vision. Your chest is heaving under your shirt, your lips puffy from kissing and biting. Your eyes are closed, head thrown back, body still twitching.

Mingyu wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, standing up. He undoes his jeans, pausing for a moment before pushing them down. “Still want this?” he clarifies.

You open your eyes, looking up at him with the most fucked out expression he’s ever seen. “If you don’t fuck me, so help me God, I’ll get Luna to cast a spell on you.”

Mingyu can only laugh. “Like… a love spell?” Mingyu asks as he pushes his pants and underwear down. “Because trust me, nothing in the world could make me more into you than I already am.”

“Is that so?” you grin, pulling off your shirt to join him in nudity.

“Uh huh. Which is why I can’t fuck you on this couch.” Mingyu reaches down, scooping you up into his arms. “Which way’s the bedroom?”

“Last door on the left down the hall,” you sigh, tucking close to his chest. 

You pepper his throat in kisses the entire way to your room, where Mingyu gently sets you onto the bed.

“Do we… should we use protection?” you ask.

Mingyu cocks his head to the side. “I can conjure my bow and arrow-”

You let out a laugh, your aura glimmering with amusement. “No, silly, I mean like condoms.”

“Oh…” Mingyu thinks about it for a moment. “Should we?”

“I mean… I’m on birth control…” you look him up and down. “Your magic cupid cock isn’t gonna outsmart the pill, is it?”

“That’s a good question.” Mingyu looks down at his rock hard length, wrapping a hand around it to relieve some of the pressure there.

“You know what? Fuck it.” You hold your arms open for him. “Just get inside of me.”

Mingyu laughs, getting onto the bed. He holds himself over you with an elbow pressed to the mattress, his free palm finding your abdomen. “I should work you open a little first,” he tells you, pressing his lips to your own. 

“I don’t mind a little pain.” You reach for his cock, stroking the precum on the tip and tracing the length of it.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Mingyu admits. “Ever.”

You don’t respond, you simply kiss him deeper. Mingyu takes this as a confirmation to drag his fingers down to your core. He starts with his middle digit, teasingly pushing it in and out of your wet hole.

You pump his cock while he works you open, applying just the right amount of pressure to keep him on the edge. He adds a second finger and you mewl desperately against his lips, hips rutting to match his pace.

You’re practically drenching his hand. At this point, he knows you could take him- he just wants to see how much you’ll allow before your beg for it. 

Mingyu loves playing with you like this. He enjoys the act of love making, and he’s in no rush- although, his cock is starting to be something near painful with the amount of blood that has him standing at attention.

“Gyu…” you whimper, pumping him even harder. 

It’s clear you’re about to beg- but he can’t stand to actually have you do it. He gives in immediately, pulling his fingers from your core. He brushes your hand away from his length, lining himself up with your pussy.

Mingyu presses his lips to yours as he pushes inside, moving slowly so you can adjust to inch after inch of his girthy cock.

You grab onto his shoulders to steady yourself, gently digging your nails into his skin. No matter how hard you try, Mingyu doubts you could actually draw blood, and what might be painful to a human is nothing more than an annoying tingle, but it’s hardly a distraction from the feeling of your pussy swollowing him up.

He can’t help the groans that leave him as he kisses you, finally flush with your body. Your walls throb around him, adjusting to the intrusion. 

“Mingyu,” you whimper, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck. “Please-”

He begins slowly. Mingyu’s not sure how fragile humans truly are, and he doesn’t want to fuck you so hard that your back breaks. Instead, he takes his time, adding more and more speed and power. He notes your reactions, notes what makes you squeal.

When he’s satisfied with a particular whimper, he stays doing what motion had earned the sound. The whole bed is rocking from his thrusts, and you’ve turned into a moaning mess for him again- but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Shit, you’re so good-” you gasp, breaking the kiss to lick at his throat, circling his sweet spot while he fucks you into the mattress.

Mingyu can’t help himself, he grabs one of your hands, lacing your fingers as he fucks you. There’s something intimate about the hand holding- and when he looks up, he realizes it’s the hands that have red strings on their wrists. 

However, as he fucks you even faster, he notices the strings aren’t simply their own bracelets anymore- they’re somehow intertwined. 

Mingyu can’t bring himself to think about it too hard, not when your wriggling under him, your wet pussy engulfing him with each thrust-

Your free hand reaches around his back, fingers brushing over a feather, and Mingyu almost cums right then and there.

“Fuck-” he whimpers. “If you do that again, I’m gonna-”

“Cum with me,” you whisper. “Please, I’m so close- if you fill me up, I just know I’ll get there.” 

You stroke another feather and Mingyu’s entire body twitches, his muscles tensing with pleasure. 

“Please, Mingyu!”

You’re on the verge of tears, and when Mingyu looks down at you, he’s completely overtaken by how much you’re glowing. He’s never seen a human aura glow like yours- and now, you look absolutely godly beneath him.

One more stroke of his feathers has Mingyu groaning loudly. He buries his face in your neck, squeezing your hand as he pushes his cock as deep inside of you as it can go. He can feel each heavy beat of his heart as he fills you with rope upon rope of cum-

Your pussy clenches tightly around him, and from the way you’re moaning in his ear, he knows you’ve reached your high too.

All you can do is hold each other, breathing each other in while you get lost in a pleasure that could never be topped. 

He’s in love with you, body and soul.

Mingyu’s not sure how long he cums, all he knows is that he’s practically spent as he comes down from the high. He’s breathing heavily, you both are, and he stays on top of you while you ground yourselves again.

You begin to stroke the back of his neck, and Mingyu takes this as a cue to put some distance between your chests so he can get a good look at you.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Better than okay,” you muse with a lazy grin. “And Gyu?”

“Yeah?”

“As crazy as this is… I love you too.”

It takes a moment for Mingyu to realize what you’re saying, because he hasn’t directly said those words- and yet, he’d betrayed himself multiple times without even realizing it. He’d mentioned getting shot with an arrow, Venus wanting a son to fall in love. He’d even said that no love potion could make his feelings stronger than they already are. 

Mingyu had been so lost in you that he hadn’t even known that all of his walls had come crumbling down. 

There’s no secret he’ll ever be able to keep from you, and that’s clear now.

But there’s no secret he’d ever want to keep from you.

You’re his other half. His pink aura baby. And staring down at you in the aftermaths of the best sex of his life, Mingyu knows that whatever happens, you’ll be his soulmate till the day he ceases to exist.

Nine - the note

Hi, gorgeous. I’m sorry you have to wake up alone. Duty calls. I’ve got council meetings this morning that I can’t miss. But we’re connected now. One tug on your red string and I’ll know you’re trying to connect. There’s no where in your world or mine that I could go where you can’t reach me. I love you. I’m here for the long run. If you want, I can see you tonight. Give the string three tugs anytime after noon, and I’ll be there faster than you can even imagine.

Hugs & kisses

Love,

Cupid

☀️ mlist + an. Thank you so much for reading! Happy (belated) Valentine's Day to all us Gyu obsessed hotties

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🔮 preview. You’re practically drooling as Mingyu shrugs the fabric off of his body, revealing a form that was literally sculpted by the Gods. You could stare at him forever and never get bored. He’s the sexiest person you’ve ever seen in your entire life, and as you wrap your hand around the base of his cock, earning a loud groan, you know that he’s all yours.

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, Mingyu loves pussy, oral (m/f receiving), big dick Mingyu, pussy eating, blow job, hand job, deep throating, face fucking, touching cupid wings as a sexual stimulus, female masturbation while giving a blow job, fingering, squirting, pussy stretching, praise, etc…   I petnames. (hers) gorgeous. (his) big guy.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.9k I teaser wc. 150

🌙 starring. Mingyu x afab!Reader

bonus

It’s Valentine’s Day and you wake up alone, and yet, you don’t really mind.

In the few months you’ve been dating your Cupid, he’s stepped up his game when it comes to checking in on the matches he’s made. As he’s become closer with Luna, and heard her failed love story, Mingyu’s been increasingly diligent on all things human relations.

He’s left a note for you on your pillow, as he does every morning he has to work instead of waking up with you. 

You read it with a smile, enjoying all the hearts he’s drawn across the lined paper. 

You don’t mind spending the first part of your Valentine’s Day alone. Three rough tugs on the string around your wrist would draw your lover back, but you figure his job is important today of all days.

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[ggidolsmuts]

Good Girls in the Dark - Choi Yena

"Hello, I'm Choi Yena, nice to meet you!"

"Omo son why didn't you tell us your girlfriend is so pretty?! Come in come in!" Your mom quickly leads Yena into your home, who's already locking arms with her. "Finally you bring someone back for Chuseok!" she looks back at you and admonishes. You simply shake your head and follow them in.

"You look so young, I thought you were oppa's sister!"

"Oh stop it, you have such a sweet tongue!" 

Yena's a good girl.

At least, that was your initial impression when you met her for the first time—it was supposed to be a Yuehua flex, having Yena drop by to say hi, to congratulate everyone on the successful joint project between Yuehua and your company. Mindful and demure, she was considerate of everyone, smiling and greeting all of you like the energetic idol she is.

True to her energy, she insisted you all go to a club for the afterparty, but the group soon diffuses into the crowd—some people left almost immediately, others stayed for a few drinks, and yet more broke off into their cliques. You try to sneak out too, until Yena somehow gets a hold of you, pulling you into a dark corner of the club. She has a drink in hand, but by now it is empty save for a few drops of whatever she had.

"Why do you keep looking at me?" she demands to know.

"What? I haven't!"

"Don't lie, I saw you sneaking looks." You were, but you didn't think Yena would notice, that you would just blend in with your co-workers.

"How would you know?" you fire back.

"Because I've been looking at you too." It must be the alcohol in Yena talking, for she smashes her lips into yours, tongue immediately pushing into your mouth. She does have a sweet tongue. "Can I trust you?"

"You should have asked me that before you kissed me."

"Oops, oh well. Now answer the question."

"Yes."

"Good, I don't want to go home tonight," she breathes into your ear.

Yena's a good girl in the dark.

"So how did you two meet?" your dad asks during dinner.

"At work! I was at an event for our company, and he was there! He was very nice to me."

"That's all it took? My son is good!"

"Dad don't," you mutter, shaking your head and leaving the table carrying your dishes. At least Yena didn't say it started with a hookup, or your parents would have had an aneurysm. The one night stands became more frequent, and your apartment became a place for stress relief for Yena.

Over time the two of you ended up spending equal amounts of time talking and fucking, and both of you finally gathered the courage to give in to your feelings and agree to start dating—to be fair, neither of you were seeing anyone else anyways, so exclusivity wasn't a discussion that needed to be had. Ironically the dating aspect wasn't really a thing either—Yena was an idol, so any dates you two had were just at your place.

"What? Our son is so charming, he found a celebrity girlfriend! And she eats so much too, I thought you would be dieting or something, I was afraid I made too much!" you hear your mum say.

"No no, that's just a stereotype, I eat more than he does!"

"That's great, you eat so well!"

Yena's a good girl.

~~

"Fuck, you eat me so well," you moan as Yena slurps you, tongue running up the underside of your shaft. It's early in the morning, the sunlight just peeking through the curtains. You can barely make out the shape of Yena in your sleepy haze, but you can definitely identify her by her tongue and hands.

"Because your cum is so delicious!" she says as she strokes you, eager for her morning cum-ffee. "I can see some of it already!" She licks your tip, swiping up the dripping precum. Yena's hungry for more, and she goes deep on your cock, taking all of it in easily. The loud sloppy noises she makes are the lewdest alarm sounds you've ever heard, and your favorite by far.

"Oh fuck, Yena, I'm gonna cum!" There is no holding back your orgasm, and your hand finds itself in her hair, pushing her down like she was an alarm clock. You thrust up involuntarily, and Yena hums as you hit the roof of her mouth, feeling you surrender in the form of a thick morning load sliding down her throat. Yena's eyeing you as you come down from your peak, making sure you're fully drained before she let's you go with a pop.

"Thanks, I gotta go now."

"Wait, I need something for the morning too no?" You wiggle your eyebrows and Yena laughs.

"I suppose I can spare a few minutes," she sighs theatrically and slides up your body. You expect her to remove her pants and underwear, but she's already naked from the waist down.

"Tch, you were expecting it weren't you?"

"I knew you would repay the favor." She pushes herself onto your face.

Yena's a good girl in the dark.

~~

"Auntie, do you need help with the dishes?"

"Oh no no no you're the guest, you can't be helping with the dishes!"

"I don't mind, besides it makes the dishes go by faster!"

"You see son, why can't you be more like Yena?"

"I live by myself, I do the dishes back home already!"

"I don't care, come help us with the dishes or else!" your mom threatens.

"Fine."

"God it's like I have to beg you to do the dishes, at least Yena's so polite and well-mannered, offering to help!"

Yena's a good girl.

~~

"Please sir."

"What do you want me to do Yena?" you ask the naked idol bent over your lap.

"Spank me."

"What's the magic word?"

"Please spank me." You reward her with a hearty slap across her ass, watching it jiggle and turn red. Yena yelps before thanking you.

"Good." You rub her cheek to soothe her before slipping your hand between her legs—she's dripping. Carelessly you run a finger along her pussy, letting her wetness coat it before wiping it on her. Yena squirms, and you wrap an arm around her midriff, holding her flush against your body, trapping her. Yena takes a deep breath and relaxes, going limp briefly.

"T-Thank you." It made her feel taken care of—she can let her mind go blank, let the pleasure take over, leave everything to you. But you tease her, rubbing her slit as you stroke her head, petting her like you pet a cat, or a duck perhaps. All while she can feel your erection poking her from below. Yena's little gasps and moans get louder and more frequent, breathing heavily over your lap as you continue.

"Please put it in." You push two fingers in, and Yena clenches immediately around them. You push Yena forward on your lap, bending her over one thigh to give you better access to her pussy. Yena's almost folded in half over your leg, blood rushing to her head as she watches her own toes curl uncontrollably due to your fingering. You dig deep, bending and twisting your fingers, as if trying to find the last cookie crumb deep inside Yena's jar. You do find what you're looking for, and Yena's the cookie that crumbles.

"R-Right there!" Beneath you Yena's face is red, both from pleasure, and from the little droplets she sees appearing between her legs. "Wait oppa, I'm going to make a mess—"

"Oppa?"

"I mean, ah! Sir, sorry sir, wait, stop!" You dig a little harder, a little faster, and it becomes a stream of liquid pleasure, leaking down her leg and dripping off Yena's toes.

"Manners Yena."

"Puhlea—" Before she can get the second syllable fully out you press her sensitive clit with your thumb and Yena chokes out a desperate cry, drenching your hand in her slick as she cums hard. Yena claws at your leg, gripping it tightly while she splashes over you. You help Yena right herself, but her legs are weak, and she sits in a puddle of her own juices as she lays her head on your thigh, breathing shallow and labored. You lay a hand on her cheek, and she turns to kiss it, as if soothing herself on you. When she opens her eyes again she looks up at you, before looking to the tent you're pitching in your pants.

"I want you," she whispers, managing to push herself up and pull your shorts off. Her hands go to your boxers, but you stop her.

"Are you forgetting something?"

"Please." Yena says it like an afterthought, removing your boxers and getting in your lap—her slick covered legs are spreading it everywhere on your couch. She tries to sink herself on to you, but you shift your hips, making her miss. "Come on!"

"Say it like you mean it."

"Please, I need you in me." She grabs your cock, her hands wrapping around your length. "I need something thick in me, my pussy needs something to... grip!" She twists her hands, squeezing you tightly. You let her position you at her entrance, and your cock twitches a little as a few more drops of slick land on your shaft.

"Please give me your cock," Yena whispers before kissing you needily.

You slam her down on you.

"Oh fuck!"

Yena's a good girl in the dark.

~~

"Yena do you drink? Are you allowed to?"

"Oh yes of course we are allowed to, I'll have whatever oppa has."

"Okay I'll go get the beer."

"No dear, get the ginseng wine."

"Should I?" Your dad nods emphatically.

"We're all becoming one family here, we can break out the good stuff and celebrate!" You know exactly where this is going as your mum brings the wine.

"Dad no don't do that!" You grab Yena's hand in apology. "Sorry."

"No no, I'm sure Yena doesn't mind! All we're saying, your mum and I, is that we would approve of whatever you two want to do in the future. Get married, have kids, you know, whatever you want!"

"It's okay uncle, I understand, thank you for being so nice to me and making me feel so welcome! We haven't really talked about our future, but it's good to know we have your support!"

"Good, see, that's a sensible young woman! Cheers!"

Yena's a good girl.

The operative word there is "really", because you two have certainly talked about your future together.

In bed.

In the heat of the moment.

While you're deep in Yena.

~~

"How many kids should I put in you, how many do you want!" you grunt as you thrust down into her, feeling her clench around you in response. Yena's legs push uselessly against your arms, your elbows locking her knees down in a mating press.

"As many as you want, fuck! That's so deep!" Her arms have a stranglehold around your neck, keeping you close, her flexibility allowing you to kiss her even as you fuck her in the uncompromising position. Yena's tits jiggle as you pound into her, a lewd visual of just how hard you're thrusting.

"B-Breed me, breed me harder!" It was a kink that Yena let slip once, and since then you've indulged her, joining her in enjoying the thought, relishing the feel of fucking Yena raw each and every time.

"Fuck I'm going to cum, you better keep count!" you shout as you slam down into her with finality, letting loose multiple shots into her. Yena seems to go over the edge with you, clenching around your pulsing cock, lips mumbling incoherently. You collapse on top of her, burying yourself against her neck, kissing her lovingly and cuddling her. It is a little later before either of you are able to speak.

"Five, I counted five shots earlier," she murmurs into your ear, tickling you.

"That many?"

"Mmhmm, I must have drained a lot out of you, hm? Poor oppa." Yena jokes, pinching your cheek. But she pushes you on your back and gets on top of you. The sight of your load leaking out of her is enough to get you to half-mast, and her words get you the rest of the way there.

"Let me do the rest of the work. We have to contribute equally to get me knocked up." She slides her cream-filled warmth over you.

Yena's a good girl in the dark.

~~

"I'm done showering!" Yena announces to you as she joins you in the guest bedroom.

"Great, let's get some rest, it's been a long day." You pull the covers over the two of you and hold Yena close. "Thanks for coming here with me."

"Of course, your parents are so nice!"

"They got a little too excited about meeting you, sorry."

"No no it's okay, I like it, they're fans of me, because of you!"

"I guess." You kiss the top of her head, ready to sleep. Yena is not though, and she slips her hand under your t-shirt.

"Haven't I been a good girl today? Shouldn't you reward me?"

"Yena..." you start.

"I didn't tell them we started dating after multiple hookups together. I didn't tell them we do it raw all the time. I didn't—"

"You really want to have sex here, tonight?" Yena nods and throws a leg around you, and to your surprise she's already very wet.

"Just the thought, you know? Being part of your family, us being a family, starting a family. And I heard ginseng wine is good for you too, get the blood flowing." You know exactly why Yena's so wet now. "I-I even brought towels from the bathroom. I'm going to make such a mess." She says it like sex is a foregone conclusion.

"You're going to have be really quiet, I know how loud you get when you want me to breed you."

"That's what the other towel is for." She scrunches the towel up and bites down on it, looking at you pleadingly.

Yena's a good girl, but Yena's your good girl in the dark.

A/N: Just something quick and dirty, the whole "Good Girls in the Dark" song from her just gave me the idea lol. Right before her next comeback heh, maybe there's another "dirty" title there hopefully, or I'll just make it dirty as usual. Thanks for reading!

[a-hazbin-reader]

I just found your blog today and OUUUGHHH ALL THE X READERS ARE SOOO GOOD? ESPECIALLY THE PLATONIC ONES? WE LIVE FOR THE CHAOTIC Y/N <3 FUCK EM UPPPP <333

If you're looking for ideas, what about a reader that is friends with both Rosie and Alastor and notices that the reader is catching feelings for Alastor? I think she'd be support them, maybe poke Alkastor since he's not likely to get the hint wioth reader not saying it directly lol

Thank you for considering and I hope you're having fun out there! Ur favs loooove yooou <33

This is just so adorable????

Rosie X Reader Headcanons

Plus a little Alastor X Reader too

❌️Romantic

✅️Platonic

TW: Reader being BULLIED with affection, Rosie interferes with everything, Romantic Alastor X Reader

Description: ☝️⬆️

Rosie claims that matters of the heart are her specialty, and who is anybody to disagree with her??

She is quick to identify what someone is feeling and her friends are no exception to the rule

So when she notices you're starting to act strangely around your mutual friend Alastor...she's quick to figure out what's going on with you

You and Alastor are having drinks together and you're laughing a little too much?? Cheeks a little too pink?? Oh she saw that

Alastor is singing and dancing?? Rosie couldn't help but notice that you were completely enraptured by him, hanging onto every moment

You also happen to have a bad habit of looking away whenever Alastor compliments you, trying to hide a blush perhaps?

Well aren't you just adorable

Now Rosie won't corner you or anything like that, she won't pry the truth out of you even if she's dying to

But she does kind of trick you into admitting you're feelings to her, inviting you out for the day and slyly bringing Alastor up

You're so cute when you're flustered and choking on your drink

"Now now~ There's nothin' to be embarrassed about! Just let Rosie know what you're feelin' and she'll sort it out for ya!"

She's so good to you

"I guess my head has kinda been all over the place lately..."

Rosie slowly gets the truth to come out of you, and boy, is she pleased as punch to find out you're falling in love with Alastor

All Rosie wants is her two friends to be happy and if she can make it happen?? She'll make it happen, she's putting all her cards on the table for this one

She promises you that she won't tell your secret or intervene in any way

But she forgot to tell you that her fingers were totally crossed

Rosie tries to start out small and subtle, even visiting the hotel and getting the others involved

Suddenly everyone is talking about you and how talented you are, how lovely you always look, what you did today

"Y/N, look at that outfit! You look fucking hot today!"

"Uh..thanks Angel..?"

Charlie and Vaggie are always pairing you and Alastor together for anything they can think of

Niffty has suddenly taken to tripping you in front of Alastor but you needn't worry, he always catches you

Husk tries to stay out of it initially but even he gets caught up in it, admitting you two would be good together

Even random people on the street are giving you extra attention whenever you're out with Alastor

Alastor can't seem to get you out of his head all of a sudden, can't shake the intrusive thoughts of you

No matter

When being subtle doesn't work then Rosie switches gears, taking a page out of Niffty's book

No she's not going to trip you

Finds excuses to have you run errands for her, somehow always leading you to bumping into Alastor

And Alastor, ever the gentleman, always walks you back and keeps you company along the way

He finds himself getting more and more fond of you, more so than he was before, he feels a little strange

Finds himself wanting to be closer to you, seeing you in a different light than before, were you always so pretty to look at???

Rosie is pleased with her progress but annoyed by the fact that Alastor still hasn't taken a hint and that you still haven't confessed

That's fine, she's got ways

She starts having flowers and little gifts sent to you when she knows you're with Alastor, faking a secret admirer

Oh he doesn't like that

Alastor feels something ugly twist in his gut when he sees your face flush as you delicately pick at the flowers, flattered

After the fourth gift that was sent to you Alastor started to get more than annoyed, trying to figure out who was taking up your attention

Imagine his surprise when the paper trail leads back to Rosie

Okay now he's legitimately worried about losing you, Rosie is a smooth she-devil

"Alastor! What brings you here-"

"I know what you've been up to, my dear."

Rosie isn't nervous, but she's definitely surprised that he figured her out, she was only trying to help you out

Alastor skips all the pleasantries and immediately just asks her if she's trying to court you

Oh...so he got it wrong...that's hilarious

"Oh my stars~! No no no~!" She literally can't stop the laughter at this point

Now Alastor is confused, why was she pretending to be your secret admirer then?

Rosie tries to lead Alastor to his own conclusion about why she did it but all of a sudden he's turned into an idiot

She really doesn't want to out your secret

But she also has been working towards this for months now

So she blurts out the fact that you're in love with him and that she's been trying to set you both up together this entire time and it feels so good to let it all out and-

Alastor simply holds a hand up to stop her, looking a little overwhelmed by the news but Rosie also detects a hint of relief??

Maybe he did grow an extra soft spot for you after all??

After confirming with Alastor that you did indeed explicitly tell her that you fell for him, Rosie watches him leave

She also refuses to apologize for interfering in his love life, a girl has gotta look out for her friends

She honestly doesn't know which way things are going to go but is pleasantly surprised when you give her a ring the next day

"Rosie! Are you free today? You won't believe what happened last night! I can't wait to tell you!"

They should call her Cupid from now on

She always hounds you for the details on your dates and is always giving Alastor tips on what you would like

"Come now, was snuggling really all you two did after dinner?"

"R-ROSIE-"

"Oh Alastor, you should really get those earrings for Y/N~! They would absolutely sparkle on them~!"

Tells everyone that she's the reason you two are together, she's just so proud of herself

She wants to plan your wedding for you

WOAH

This one was such a cute idea!! I really hope it's what you wanted!!

[savanir]

DP x DC prompt [13]

Impulse is a little back in time, simply to retrieve a thing from the most haunted city in america.

the instructions were clear, in. grab thing. out. no funny business, no anything else.

why the fuck did it had to be impulse then?! that’s never gonna- ah, whatever…

So Bart does not just do only that. He remembers to keep moving fast so he’s not seen, but well, he spotted these two white suited goofballs who looked upset with their little box contraption and somehow were missing the little unplugged wire and Bart figured, what could the harm be?

so he might have plugged the little wire in while he was there, sue him, the guys looked surprised but pleased that their little thingy was suddenly working. good job Impulse right?

he didn’t forget about it but he might have shoved it in the back trunk of his head while he went on to do his actual job which is essentially forgetting for a guy with eidetic memory.

So yeah, imagine his surprise when he gets back to where he came from and finds himself on a doomed, desolate earth with green skies and nothing but scorched rock and ruins for miles.

What he’s seeing is an earth in the aftermath of a war against the infinite realms.

So now he has to go back to the past and fix his reckless mistake. Would it be wise to maybe see if he can find a single living soul with some info on what happened to make this ordeal a little easier? maybe, but that might involve him having to explain himself which will most likely be followed by a subsequent well deserved lecture and Bart is hoping to fix this without all that because he clearly fucked up. like, it’s very obvious. and he’s feeling very bad about it, honest.

back in the past again though, he nearly collapses, he’s seriously overdoing it at this point, afterall he was supposed to be able to recuperate once he got back. 

But he has to push through, he can’t slow down, he has to find those two guys and nab their little machine that’s apparently a doomsday device or something, he doesn’t know when they will use it, or where, so slowing down now is absolutely out of the question.

“woah hey there man, are you alright?”

he’s startled into complete stillness, and then he’s just thinking about how this guy looks like a fusion between Robin and Superboy, he can picture it perfectly in his head, fully animated dragon ball fusion style.

it’s SuperRobin, real name Ton, or maybe Kim.

getting distracted, he was asked a question, better answer.

“yeahI’mfine” he wheezes, very believable stuff.

“no you’re not, do you need a hand? sick Impulse cosplay by the way”

So, yeah, Danny pesters Bart into at least eating and drinking something, he says that if the two guys, who are now identified to Bart as the guys in white also known as the GIW or the Ghost Investigation Ward… and Bart going “oh I know a ghost! she’s really great” and Danny being pleasantly surprised.

but anyway if those guys do anything he will know, cause apparently they are very loud and quite destructive. and that’s honestly no comfort to Bart cause he knows what the future is gonna look like, but also he’s about to pass out and that would be super uncool and also make him totally useless anyway so… eating and drinking first it is.

Danny is a local, which is useful cause Bart only knew the route he needed to take for his previous mission and not really anything else regarding this place. And he tells Bart that he’s screwed with the GIW before so he knows how they operate. it fucking sucks that Bart accidentally aided apparent government bad guys… the others can never find out…

Overall, working with Danny is pretty great. For a civilian the guy is very resourceful. he’s witty, smart, funny, a lot stronger than he looks, honestly maybe the SuperRobin fusion thing he thought about before has some merit… are there any hidden clone labs around? billionaires with zero morals? yes? no? maybe?

Bart simply told Danny that he needs the machine from the white suit guys for future superhero reasons. and he’s fully intending on just handing it over to Robin, hopefully while not having to explain why he has it in the first place, and see if he can figure out how it’s gonna cause the world to end so they can make sure that can never happen.

Danny says that the machine is probably just an anti ghost weapon of some kind. Bart is skeptical, because first of all, why would anyone need anti ghost weapons when magic is already a thing and works on them just fine. Like all the superhero exorcists that Bart knows use some form of magic, well he guess anti ghost weapons would be useful for the bats, but that begs the question why is the government going around trying to shoot ghosts? and why hasn’t Bart heard of this before, cause this sounds like something Robin would enjoy telling him about.

But Bart, with significant help from Danny, manages to… confiscate (steal) the machine from the white suits.

he promises Danny he’ll visit, cause they are friends now, it’s official. And he would love to introduce him to the others as well.

Once back Bart still gets lectured of course, and Tim does reveal that yeah, the box really is just some sort of ghost trapping device, and he’s keeping it.

Bart doesn’t really care, the only thing he cares about is that everything is back to normal and he even got a new friend out of the whole ordeal.

It's then that Robin brings up a new member for Young Justice who will soon be joining them, and Bart is completely confused.

Everyone else is confused at Bart’s confusion, this was already known a week ago? and Bart figures that something did change somewhere somehow anyway, that’s fine.

Kon reminds Bart of the new guy’s callsign, apparently it’s Phantom.

Bart tries to imagine what they would look like, but at the moment he can only picture Danny in a SuperRobin outfit.oh well, hopefully this just means that Bart manages to get two friends out of this whole mess.

[nichuuu]

Lemon.

Word count: 13k+

You decide that you don’t quite like Balls (get your head out of the gutter).

Music: odd. Yes, it’s a fancy mansion—5 floors, the works… But you don’t know how to feel about the sole pianist in the centre of the foyer, the one that’s playing some classical piece that has the people around you murmuring about his technique and sound (whatever the hell either of those meant).

People: you don’t know a good half of them. Scratch that—it’s a sea of strangers

Drinks: strong, way too fucking strong for your liking. The drinks are free of charge, and the bartender clearly didn’t shake this Pina Colada well, but you have to drink it if you want to even try and get into the mood of the party. Around you, men in posh suits and women in flamboyant dresses skirt each other, talk to each other with placid smiles—hoodwinking each other with their highfalutin laughs and smiles to establish connections that probably won’t matter in a couple of days. The only person you’ve talked to tonight is the bartender, and that was just to order your drink. 

This whole place stinks of capitalism, and you feel out of place in your cheaper suit and dress shoes. On your right, some guy is talking about how bitcoin and blockchain will make a grand return, some lady is gossiping about the latest Gucci handbag on your left. In front of you, a man and a woman are clearly flirting with each other, bashful grins on their faces as they hold their fancy drinks in their hands and talk about god knows what. You’re wondering if you should ask for a straw from the bartender just to dip your toes in social interaction.

Wonder why Cinderella was so hot on attending a Ball, thing seems pretty bland to me, you’re thinking, watching the tip of the ice that was shaped like an iceberg melt away and sink beneath the surface of your margarita. Some guy in a tux comes by, orders two glasses of Prosecco—one for him, one for the woman next to him. He’s talking loudly, disrupting your peace and quiet. Your solution: move seats.

From a distance—two chairs away from your original seat—you watch as he takes the two glasses from the hands of the bartender, hands one to the woman, then clinks his glass with hers. He’s preternaturally genteel, and you’d know because you recognised him as the guy that got slapped at the start of this whole thing because he grabbed the ass of someone’s wife. Impropriety, but it’s the behaviour of the newfangled rich. 

Now he’s bragging about his car. Nissan GTR fitted with this engine, this ventilation, blah, blah… Whatever it is he’s saying, the woman’s having none of it. You’re no psychologist, but you can tell that she wants to get out of a conversation; her smile is awfully sweet, but you can see that she’s silently importuring him to shut his trap—her eyes give it all away. You pity her, silently sending her your best wishes as the man grabs her by the arm and leads her back into the sea of people. Personally, you’d be screaming if you were in her shoes.

(Off to your left, just at the edge of your vision, you see your boss talking to a woman. She’s getting touchy, really touchy and really flirty; her hand’s on his thigh, fuck me eyes out to play and on full display—A trite tactic used by these types of women to get lucky with a rich man at these type of events. Luckily for her, your boss is quick to bite on to such bait. God bless them both.)

For the record: you’ve never really enjoyed Balls or anything of the ilk, because quite frankly speaking, you’d much rather burrow up in your bed at home and binge Kimini ni Todoke till you were giggling and squealing like a little schoolgirl. Maybe I’m still young, I’ll learn to like these types of events later on, you tell yourself, I’ll need connections at some point, maybe I should start—

A sickly sweet fragrance crawls up your nostrils, truncating all thought. Perfume, you’re quick to identify, and then you’re aware of the presence of someone on your right. Your grip on your glass grows tighter in the slightest; you’re praying—Please just be ordering a drink, please be ordering a drink.

Frankly, you don’t know why you’d ever think anyone would talk to you, an unimportant cog that just tagged along with his boss because he had nothing better to do. Irrational fears are really a funny thing.

Sharp, clear, resonant—three words that came to mind when you heard the voice of the person next to you, the voice that delivered the simplest of orders: Yamazaki. I want it neat. 

Your first thought is, Damn… Neat Whisky? Someone’s having a horrible night, as you turn your face away from her (if you couldn’t see her, she wouldn’t be able to see you, right?). And just as you’re wondering if she’s gonna take her drink and leave, your question is answered by the soft creak and even softer rustle of shifting fabric from your right. You bristle.

The glass makes a sound against the wood as it’s gently placed down on the table.

(Now would be an excellent time for a subtitle to come in, one that states in square brackets: Awkward silence.)

You can hear her swirling the liquid around in her glass. Fuck, now this is awkward… You’re thinking, and then you’re wondering if you should just get up and leave, absquatulate, skedaddle—any word that can convey the act of disappearing in an instant—right out of there. But as you start to slide your butt off the chair, that voice rings out once more.

“Not much of a talker, are you?”

She doesn’t know how her simple sentence has caged you in the most challenging position (to you at least). Now you’re sliding your ass back into the bar stool and you turn and face her—

(Now that you’re looking at her, your second thought about her comes in: God, she’s beautiful. Dark brown hair that falls just past her shoulders like velvet curtains, soft yet somehow piercing eyes, a smile that makes you feel fuzzy all over—probably one of the most attractive women you’ll ever meet. She’s the woman from earlier, the woman that you saw smiling and nodding placidly to that guy who got her the Prosecco. She must’ve found a way to slip away, and she has your full respect for that.)

—and you find that you’re drumming your nails against the base of your glass.

“Shy, huh?” she’s throwing out a guess, watching as the Whisky in her glass slowly swirls to a stop inside the chilled glass. “It’s been a while since I met a shy man. You’re a breath of fresh air.”

You shift in the stool, and your first instinct is to ask her if you two had met before. It’s only after that last syllable leaves your mouth that you realise how stupid of a question it is. You don’t know her, and judging by the fact that she hasn’t called you by your name: she doesn’t know you either. You let her decide whether to oust you as a fool as she scans you up and down.

(Update on your boss and that woman: She’s kissing him now, full on making out. It’s an unsettling sight to behold, and you attribute your queasiness to the fact that they’ve somehow found they’re way behind the woman you're talking to. Your boss doesn't see you; you choose not to see him. God bless them both.)

“Well… Considering that you don’t look the least bit familiar,” she sets the glass down, “and that you haven’t been introduced to me like some product by a crusty, old man… I think it’s safe to say that we’re.”

Now her eyes are on your drink. What are you drinking this fine night? She’s asking, using her chin to gesture towards your Pina Colada. You tell her exactly what it is, and she cringes slightly. They say Pineapple doesn’t belong on pizza, I say it doesn’t belong fucking anywhere. Oust it as a fruit! she’s telling you, making sure to add a little more emphasis on the word “oust” as she couches her firm belief, something you find rather hilarious considering that it’s your first meeting with her. She sips the Whisky, grimaces a bit, then sets the glass back down to say, we skipped past a lot of formalities, didn’t we?

And here comes the part of talking to strangers that you’re the most comfortable with—Introductions. You think that it is safe to assume that just about anyone would find saying hello and telling someone your occupation much easier than holding up a conversation, what more with a beautiful woman like her. You give her your name, tell her what you do for a living, the usual stuff. She listens, the gleam in her eyes that comes when you’re done talking ever so enigmatic and cryptic. 

“Lawyer huh?” She’s playing with her glass again, “considering were we are right now, I really shouldn’t be this surprised… Yet I am. Little shy for a guy dealing clients on the daily, no?”

Somehow, by the grace of some supernatural force (you call it alcohol), you crack your first joke of the night—I know. The most I ever talked is in court—and you’re relieved that she’s kind enough to humour you (or maybe she really does find it funny. You’ll never know), and gives you an elegant chortle, one that makes your hair stand at their ends as your third thought about her goes through your mind: even her laugh is attractive. Is there anything wrong with this woman? 

And when she tells you her name, you realise why she seems to be exuding this inexplicable aura; Minatozaki Sana, pleasure to meet you, she introduces herself with a generous amount of pizzaz. You’re scanning her up and down at this point, and only now do you take in the expensive dress that dons her slender frame, the same dress that’s accompanied by a glimmering necklace and earrings, 3 rings on her middle, index and ring finger respectively.

“You’re…” you begin.

“The host’s daughter? Yes.”

Now you’re at a loss for words. Well uh… It’s an honour to meet you, is what you plan on saying, but it comes out as a simple, more blunt manner: Oh damn. Sana’s giggling to herself, swirling her Whisky as she watches you struggle to find things to say to her.

“I take it that you don’t come around here often?” she asks. When you raise an eyebrow, she explains how her father hosts a Ball like this every other month to try and find her a “suitor”. Apparently, 27 years old is “too old”  to still be single, so my Dad just gets a bunch of men together and parades me around, she’s carping. The glimmering chandeliers, the array of drinks and food, the vanity of all these people; the dazzling marble floor, the glass sculptures, the embroidered tablecloths; this event, in all its glory and prestige, is all about her. 

Christ, you’re thinking to yourself, money really gets you to places, huh? 

Now she’s explaining how some of the people here are frequent visitors. Mothers and their sons, fathers and their sons, young business men, old business men, middle aged businessman; whoever can afford to come to this lavish Ball—all of them frequent this mansion like moths to a flame, all looking for a chance to ingratiate with the Minatozakis so that maybe, just maybe, they get a chance to get Sana’s hand in marriage. It’s a glorified yet obsolete form of Tinder really.

(Your boss is nowhere in sight now, and you’re pretty sure that the two of them have gone off somewhere to get it on. Maybe this event isn’t just about Sana, it’s about finding a rich person that can spoil you for the rest of your life too. God bless everyone here.)

“So what brings a man like yourself here this fine night?” She seems oddly interested in you (and also very hot on using this fine night as well apparently). You give her the truth that carries your watered down emotions in your tone—My boss asked me to tag along. Apparently all attendees were to bring a male plus one.

Sana chuckles, but it’s one of bitterness.

“So Dad’s reverted to these tactics huh?” you hear her whisper before taking an alarming large gulp of Whisky. She swallows, then sighs, “wonder what he’ll do next… Maybe an arranged marriage?”

Past the frustration and utter disappointment, there’s amusement in her voice. It tells you: if I could, I’d kill my Dad. It’s more of an inference from your end than a message that you’re sure that she’s trying to imply. You always had a bad habit of reading between the lines—probably picked it up from your job.

Sana downs the rest of the Whisky in a flash, wincing as the alcohol burns her throat. She scratches her nose, then turns to you and asks, “say, you don’t look like you want to be here, and neither do I.”

Behind you, you can hear the voice of a man approaching. He’s talking to someone—my daughter should like you very much, you seem like a man that suits her taste—and Sana bristles. Her father, you deduce, noting the way that the woman before you is searching around for an exit. Then you blink, and in that split second, she grabs your hand.

“Let’s get out of here.”

Just like that, you’re running through a crowd of people, spewing a million-and-one apologies as you jostle your way through the crowd, in tow behind a woman you've known for a grand total of 5 minutes. 

A very unlikely start to a romance really.

*

Now the gears in your head are whirring, your stomach’s churning—there’s no other way to describe how you feel when Sana’s looking at you like that from across the table: small smile, a slight gleam behind those eyes, hand under her chin and fingers tapping against her cheek… She’s got you in perdition just with a look. You’re a guy of relatively taciturn nature, and the last time you went on a date was in university. That date went horribly, and now you’re wondering if this one was gonna go up in flames as well. Your brain urges you to say something to her, but your mouth seems to be sewn shut. 

On the other hand, Sana’s poised as ever. “What’s wrong?” she’s cocking her head and pouting slightly, “nervous?”

You're not ashamed to admit that you indeed are, and that you’ve never really gone out on dates in a long time. Sana seems tickled by this—It’s been a while since I’ve seen a shy man. I like it, she tells you—and assures you that she won’t bite. In fact, she’s glad that you’re quiet and not rambling off about some business venture. She tells you, I don’t recall the last time I’ve been with a guy like you, though I’d appreciate it if you assist me in starting some conversation, and you’re slightly ashamed of your reticence. 

There’s a gleam in her eyes when you start asking her some questions on her personal life, and she finds it congenial to gesticulate in a moderate manner as she answers your questions. Her outgoing nature leaves you flummoxed, and there’s barely enough space in your brain to remember everything she tells you about herself. Born in Osaka, likes yoghurt smoothies, likes to take walks in the park, likes this, likes that… You vaguely remember her telling you this on the night that the two of you escaped that event.

(To jog your own memory: She took you to the garden, where the two of you spent the rest of the night strolling amongst shrubs and other greenery that thrived in Spring. The Pina Colada in your system allowed you to hold a conversation, one that lasted long enough for her to take a liking to you. At the end of it all, she gets your number, you get her’s, and a date’s been settled in some french restaurant she patronises.)

“Now, I don’t expect you to remember all of this,” she’s watching the wine leave streaks against the glass, “but if you do, I believe you're entitled to some extra points.” 

“Points?” you’re keen on inquiring, “we’re keeping a scoreboard?”

Sana simply smiles. For asking that question, minus 2 from you, is her answer—not a very good one if you were to be blunt. You can’t suppress a chuckle as you take a sip from your own wine.

Unwittingly, Sana has eased you into her presence. It suddenly feels like you’ve known her forever (if forever meant 2 weeks that is).

A smooth start to a relationship if you do say so yourself.

*

“Sana, there’s people out there.”

“I know.”

“They might hear us.”

“I know.”

“We could get caught.”

“We won’t.”

It’s the confidence in her voice that irks you really. The lack of hesitance combined with the sheer lack of shame towards the fact that anyone outside the changing room in this damn Prada store could easily raise a phone over the door and start recording. It’s not that she’s not cognizant of this, but more of the fact that she doesn’t give two shits if someone captures a video of her blowing you in this dressing room. Shameless, aplomb, obstinate, are the three words that come to mind when dealing with Sana at the given moment, but there’s no energy in you to convey this to her, not when she wraps her lips around your cock. The outfits that she chose remain untouched behind her, fabrics still in light while the person that chose them remains active on her knees. 

(Almost a year. Almost a year the two of you have been dating. You thought you’d learned all there is to know about her, yet she’s hitting you with new facts and surprises every day, left, right, and centre. There are probably many more things that you have yet to figure out, but they’ll all come to light in due time.)

Really, it’s on you for not exercising due diligence upon entering the store; you should’ve known better from the moment you saw that look in her eyes while she was looking at a dress. But there’s nothing you can do about it now, not when she’s already enraptured you with that damn gaze—the one that exudes want and lust, the one that’s the leaven to your morality in her eyes. She knows that she’s got you wrapped around her finger when your hand rests itself atop of her head as she slowly bobs her head over your crotch. She’s taking her time despite the situation that she’s placed the both of you in. 

“This has always been on my bucket list,” she’s letting her hand run along your shaft, spreading her saliva with each stroke of her palm. Her nails, freshly done just over 2 hours ago, glisten under the light—partially because of her spit and partly because of the gloss. “Everything about this is just so… Eroctic, isn’t it?”

Christ, she’s really into this thrill-seeking thing, you note as you choke out a reply: Not particularly, but whatever floats your boat Sana (obviously, it doesn’t come out as smooth as it should. No one would be able to get out a full sentence with phonics properly strung together if they too were getting blown in a changing room). She’s got a glint in her eye, but it’s covered by your shaft as she slides her tongue down your cock, nose brushing against the base of your cock, just behind her tongue. She knows what she’s doing, she’s given you head before; she’s building up the suspense and waiting for you to beg for more. You really don’t want to indulge her, you really don’t, but there’s not much you can do when she starts placing kisses on your shaft—base to tip in a fervently slow fashion. How far is she gonna go with this, you can’t help but wonder, but you quickly have your question answered in the next second or so.

“Unenthusiastic?” she quips, “minus four”.

She wraps her lips around you and pushes her head forward, and you almost let the people in the store know that something’s going down in here.

You figure that the feeling of her lips wrapped around your shaft will never get old, not when it sends electricity up your spine and makes your hand ball into a fist in her hair. Her eyes seem to glint as you let out a sharp gasp. Yes, you could be caught by an employee at any second. Yes, you could very well be caught on camera by a customer at any second. There were a lot of things to consider when assessing the dangers of the circumstances that Sana has put the both of you in. Yet, none of them take anything away from the pleasure she’s bringing you, not as she starts to bob her head in beat to the metronome in her head. There’s no point in trying to figure out her pace. 

“Jesus… Fuck… Sana I…” Your voice is—somehow—hushed as you struggle to convey how weak she’s making you, but it’s not like you need to anyway—she knows exactly what she’s doing, and she’s loving every second of the havoc she’s wreacking upon your senses. The slight tug in the corner of her lips is the suggestion of a smirk, and the muffled noise that rises from her throat is the implication of a giggle. 

There's a knock on the door and you bristle; Sana slows down, but she doesn’t stop. Past the door, the voice of the staff that led you to this very room asks if everything is alright in there, and you’re praying that her eyes aren’t set on the floor. Sana locks eyes with you, then darts her eyes to the door to tell you—Answer it goddamnit. Of course, she doesn’t make it easy for you as you open your mouth, applying light suction to your tip as you find the strength to say: Yep, just give us a few more minutes please, making you choke on that last word and sending alarms blaring in your head. Thankfully, the store assistant is kind enough to leave you with a take your time sir, and the shadow of her feet disappear from the gap beneath the door. It’s then that Sana pops your glistening cock out of her mouth.

“A few more minutes, huh?” She’s got drool on the corner of her lips as she rises to her feet. “Better make this quick then. You gotta keep your word as a lawyer, don’t you?”

Her wit is certainly better than most of your colleagues.

(There are customers outside now, you can hear them talking to the store assistant. They sound vaguely familiar… Maybe you heard them at the restaurant? Or maybe they’re colleagues… No, that can’t be it, at least you hope so).

Now for the record: you’ve seen Sana naked on multiple occasions, be it voluntarily or not. The shower, the bedroom, even a public shower at the pool… You could name a lot more places where she’d shamelessly flaunted her nude body before you off the top of your head. “A body to die for” is a fitting expression for Sana; you’ve always wondered if you’d find her on the top of the Google image search if you were to look up “dream bodies”, and you figure that you can probably get her there if you could somehow take pictures with your eyes as she undresses before you. She’s more methodical than anything, straying away from her usual teasing nature for the sake of being quick (that’s what you infer from her behaviour, but really, she could just be extremely horny and desperate. There’s never a solid answer to Sana’s behaviour). Mini skirt, then top, then bra; she’s going through the motions that she’d usually drag out just to get a reaction out of you preternaturally quickly.

Why is she getting naked in a changing room? You have no clue. Your best guess: she’s doing it for the thrill of it. The thought of getting caught completely nude with her boyfriend speared inside of her must be sending lethal doses of adrenaline through her veins. A pretty solid guess if you do say so yourself. No time for anymore guesses anyway—she’s already brought your hand up to her right breast, and she’s closing her eyes to enjoy the feel of your fingers closing around the semi-firm flesh. Her top lip’s furling behind her front teeth, she’s letting her other hand rest on your arm. She’s telling you where she wants it—did you cum in my ass yesterday? Or was it the day before? Ah, whatever… Give me a fucking creampie—in this soft, low voice that sends a velvet chill down your spine. Then she's kissing you softly, sweetly, nibbling on your top lip as usual, all while pushing you to the corner of the room where your feet aren't visible to those outside, flushing your back against the wall. It’s an uncomfortable fit, but that quickly changes when she grips the middle of your shaft and lines you tip up with her slit. The hand on her tit is guided to that slim waist, your other hand quickly finding its place on that symmetrical, slim figure. 

“I don’t care if I cum or not,” she drawls, trailing a finger down your chest, “I just want your load inside me, right here, right now. Just focus on that, nothing else.”

(Half request, half demand—give her an award for being so damn ambiguous. Subtitles that could translate what she truly means would be really, really handy right now. Alas, such a system doesn’t exist.)

Describing how Sana’s pussy felt would be doing her injustice. The feeling was ineffable. From entering her to hilting yourself inside of her, there was never a second of that process where you had an easy time breathing or thinking. You’ve never been so reliant on your senses to keep you grounded in reality, nor have you ever been so glad that Sana’s nails are digging into your shoulder. This position—facing each other, standing and fucking against the wall of (all places) a changing room—is a stranger to the both of you, but the sheer tightness of her cunt working hand in hand with the intimacy of it all has you welcoming it with open arms.

Your hips are moving on their own, taking liberties without signals from your fried brain as you start thrusting into Sana. For long, wordless minutes, you're thrusting into Sana in a mindless, slow fashion, relishing the  feel of her skin in your palms, the look on her face, the soft moans that are slowly slipping from her ever so slightly opened lips. Then your ability to think slowly returns, and you’re thinking like a damn neanderthal—tight, wet, hot, so fucking good—as your grip on her waist tightens. Your shaft glistens in the light of the changing room, slick with her sweet juices as it slips in and out of her slick, spearing into her with depth, making her legs weak. Sana cups your cheek, lifts your head, and it’s now that you see how her eyes have been completely glazed over with lust and want. Her face, her figure down to the sounds she’s making; everything about her, about this, is the phantasmagoria of a wet dream.

If you were being completely true to yourself right now: You couldn’t care less if you got caught. 

And as if on cue, the voices approach as soon as you finish that train of thought. 

“Do you provide altercation services?” It’s the voice of a man, closely followed by that of the store assistant: Of course sir. After you try on the suit, you can note how you’d like it to be altered to your liking. 

A shadow of feet appears at the base of the door. Sana cups a hand over her mouth as the door rattles—the customer trying to open it. You stop your movements, breath caught in your throat as the store assistant tells him to use the other fitting room. Sana’s breath is loud in your ears as a second set of footsteps approach, followed by a female voice that asks, “Is my husband in there?” 

Yes ma’am, is the assistant’s reply. Of course, this is hardly the end of it.

Now, as the woman engages the store assistant in conversation right outside your door, Sana lets the hand on her mouth drop. She flushes herself against you as the store assistant answers, and she whispers, “Keep going”.

Endlessly seeking thrill. Classic Sana.

The logical part of you warns you against doing as she says. Sadly, there’s not much room for logic in your head in the given circumstances, not when your balls-deep inside your girlfriend in a changing room. There’s barely enough room for dilemma to occur; Sana’s the sole occupant of your mind, rent-free, free-hold, and really: she’s the only thing that matters right now. 

She almost, just almost, lets out a cry when you spear yourself back inside her. You didn't expect to start so soon, and neither did she. However, catching her by surprise is a novelty to you, and you relish in that brief rush of smugness before you restart your movements. Her mouth is frozen in a silent scream, but her eyes say all that she wants to: smug asshole, I’ll kill you later. You reply by letting your index and forefinger slip into her still-open mouth. 

“Personally, I enjoy the Italian selection more…” The store assistant’s voice is barely audible to you over Sana’s small, muffled moans that manage to skirt your fingers and Sana’s closed lips, and as the lady starts talking about trench coats, Sana coats your fingers with a fresh layer of saliva, turning your fingers slick and slimy with her tongue as she looks you dead in the eye, as if challenging you: Is this the best you can do? Is this the riskiest you can be?

Every question from her deserves an answer, and your’s is to remove your saliva-slicked fingers out of her mouth, draw a circle with her spit just above her collarbone, then whisper right into her ear: I’m gonna mark you right there. The involuntary gasp that she lets out tugs the corner of your lips up into a perverse smile. Slowly your lips drift down to the glistening spot, and you wait just a moment to build up that sweet-sweet suspense. It’s a split second, but it’s a second too much for her to bear—the way her body tenses when you finally make contact is the clearest indication you will ever receive. And when you start sucking, God does she almost drive you over the edge: she tightens, she gasps, she starts twitching; she loves it, every second your lips stay locked around that sweet spot of skin is bliss to her.

You can hear the door to the other fitting room unlock, and you hear the man’s heavy footsteps as he walks out, no doubt in that suit he had earlier. The compulsory question comes: how do I look?

There’s a brief moment of silence, and you’re almost fearful of the fact that maybe, just maybe, their ears are picking up on the ragged breathing and slightly audible squelching coming from the other fitting room. All consternation dissipates when the woman starts to comment on how she looks, but Sana seems to have an answer to his question as well: So good. So fucking good. Harder, let me feel all of you, fuck me harder. Oh fuck, you’re so fucking deep. 

You look dashing honey. The pitch of the woman’s reply harmonises with Sana’s soft whine as your lips leave her skin, the same patch where you’ve left your purple artwork on. I think we can afford to alter the pants—

Sana crushes your lips against hers, hot breath filling your mouth as you feel her lift her leg. You hold the back of her knee (like the gentleman you are), bring it to your side, hold it there. She bites your lower lip, hard enough for her to pull and tug it as you start losing yourself in her: her scent, her breath, her skin—all of it’s so deliciously addicting. You can’t get enough.

Then she’s going straight to moaning into your mouth, letting those muffled cries permeate in the small space and hopefully not outside the fitting room. She’s wet, she’s tight, she’s everything you need right now. You want, so badly, to pull her apart, ruin her till you can’t put her back together, get her begging at the top of her lungs for you to fuck her harder and harder. 

And you’re almost on the verge of calling her a slut. There’s no need for that though, she knows what she’s made of herself.

—so that they’re a little shorter. I think we could also try—

Sana’s figured out the best way to moan: straight into your ear. She’s not letting up with them, and she’s giving you one hell of an array of sounds. There’s the common ah, the not so common, oh, and the very common shit, fuck, fuck me and so good. Her phonics are so loosely strung together that they’re just a jumbled mess, and you're perfectly ensconced with that; you love hearing those lazy, sloppy cries, and they only seem even more melodic at this volume, at this moment. Fuck, record them and play them as white noise as you sleep.

—changing the colours of the buttons? Ooh! Maybe we could even change the stitching around—

She tilts her head back, and you’re peppering her neck with kisses. She loves it, you know she loves it; all this attention, all this adrenaline, all this carnality she’s invoking—all of it for her. Each time you grunt, she knows that she’s the damn reason for it. Every time your fingers dig into her thigh a little more, she knows it’s because of her. Every kiss on her neck, every inch of her pussy you fill with your rock-hard meat, all of it’s for her. She isn’t vain, nor is she a pick me girl, but she sure as hell knows how to make you treat her like she’s the only girl in the fucking world, and you’re more than happy to give her what she wants.

Because it’s always like this with Sana: if she wants it badly enough, she’ll formulate a stratagem to get it, nip her cravings in the bud before they turn into desires that she can’t control. Mind you, she’s not dissolute; she’s just “riding the highs of life” as she calls it. Pretty bullshit and circumlocutory, but you always let her off the hook.

—the pocket area? That’s my two cents. What do you think darling?

Another moment of silence follows, and Sana seizes the opportunity to nibble on your earlobe. Her leg’s sweaty, slowly slipping from your grasp and trembling from the pleasure that’s giving her voice this lilt when she says: Carry me. Fuck me. Cum in me. Please. Pleasure, coursing through your veins, makes you comply in an almost servile manner. It’s precipitous, even fatuous to pull such a stunt in a fitting room of all places, but when your hands are supporting her by her ass and her legs lock around your waist, there’s no turning back.

And as the man starts going off on his own preferences, Sana’s wrapping her arms around your neck, letting you get a look at those bouncing breasts as you reach new depths inside of those slick, warm walls. If she could cry out, she would, but those damn customers outside are placing her in a box here, and it’s clearly frustrating her. If you were at your place, her hands gripping your sheets and her juices messing up your quilt, she could moan, mewl, cry and cuss however loud she wanted. In a way, it was funny to watch her hold back, but at the same time: you so badly want to make her scream, undo her right here and now and make her a mess in your arms, but you’ll settle for what you have right now. What the two of you have created is controlled chaos, and should it be released past that damn changing room door, God knows what will happen.

Now it’s the store assistant’s turn to speak, and she’s giving them a rundown of the pricings. Outside, they’re talking about the possibility of a discount; inside, Sana’s talking about how deep you feel inside of. Outside, the man’s trying to guilt-trip the store assistant by saying how exorbitant the price is; inside, Sana’s exclaiming and pleading in a hushed voice—Own me. For the love of God, fucking o-own me!—as each thrust you make into her pussy sends her further and further down this rabbit hole of pleasure. It takes guts to fuck in a fitting room, but it takes the guts of Minatozaki Sana to be this needy while fucking in a fitting room. The risks of being caught are high, the risk of being heard even higher, but neither of those affect her ardour. At a controlled volume, she’s pleading for you to fuck her harder, faster, unravel every single bit of her being while she tries to keep herself together. It’s one hell of a show, and it’s one hell of an experience too. 

(The sight of her perfect body flushed against yours as she’s fucked in the air, the smell of her sickly sweet perfume, the feeling of that divinely tight pussy wrapped snugly around your shaft like a damned glove, the way those sonorously soft moans filter into your ears. Add these together with the fact that the people outside could hear you at any second, and you’ve got one hell of a recipe for a voyeurist’s wet dream. You’re no voyeurist, but everything about this moment is making you feel like one.

Right now, this is everything to Sana. Having you this close to her, feeling that cool Prada air conditioning against her bare body, listening to you grunt and sigh as you piston yourself in and out of that slick, wet slit… All her needs are being fulfilled, all of her senses heightened and primed, aware of every movement you make inside of her pussy. Sometimes, you feel so good and oh fuck, or maybe even oh god isn’t enough to convey how she feels, so she just opts to let out this strained, strangled gasps that tells you everything you need to know—a maelstrom of emotions and expressions compressed and compacted into one simple “hngh” is enough for you to know that you’re doing something right.)

“You like this Sana?” you find yourself whispering. “You like being fucked like a damn slut with people just outside, don’t you? You like everything about this, don’t you?”

Right now, she doesn’t have that capacity to reply. Of course, you know this, which makes you feel all the more smug as you watch, watching as she slips into a state of complete, utter bliss: her mouth hangs open, her eyes are unfocused, she’s barely holding on to you. The purple mark that your lips have left on her neck sears itself into your sight, and it’s joined by the breathtaking view of her breasts loosely bouncing each time you drive yourself into her. Loose strands of hair are flying, neither of you have any hands free to fix them. Her legs are quaking around your waist, neither of you want to stop just so that she can be back down on the floor. Her eyes are closing, you can feel her heartbeat in her pussy, she’s begging, pleading, fucking imploring you to keep going. 

Christ. You want her to moan as loud as she can for you.

It’s hard not to get turned on by the sight of it, and it’s even harder to keep yourself controlled under the rapidly tightening grip of her cunt. Her breaths are shallow, her head is almost completely limp. She may not seem to be aware of it, but you sure as hell are more than cognizant of the fact that the both of you are about to hit that peak that you’ve been chasing for the past God-knows-how-many minutes.

“Sana.” Uttering her name is all that’s needed to bring her back to the real world. When you have her attention, you give her the sentence that she’s been waiting to hear for so damn long: I’m gonna fucking fill you, and It’s like the air gets heavier when she softly whispers, pleads for you to fulfill her new desire; cum with me. I need it so bad. 

Controlled orgasm would take strength to pull off, and you silently pray that you have that strength as you send one final thrust between her shaking legs. Your cock twitches, spasms and the first rope of your warm seed that’s sent into her waiting walls is enough to send her over the edge. She bites down on your shoulder, quick enough to muffle the cry that escapes her throat. The tightening of her walls seem to coordinate with each spasm of your cock, and they sync up, working together to get every last drop of cum out of you and into her. She lets a soft moan escape her lips with each spurt, as though welcoming it, as though each one were something she long wanted and needed. You let out a single, soft grunt, as though thanking her, as though every twitch of her walls that sends a shock down your cock is a treasure to be relished.

So the scarf that she brought in to try is no longer just an ornament like the rest of the outfits. Even after adjusting her outfit, the fabric still can't seem to cover that hickey you left on her collarbone. The simple solution: Sana waits there, you buy the scarf, hand it to her, she puts it on and the both of you walk out of the store like nothing happened, like the both of you really were in there to try on some clothes, then leave. 

It’s unsuspecting, it’s smooth. The store assistant wishes you a good day, and Sana smiles and waves to her, looking exactly like she did when she entered, plus a scarf. The only difference in Sana’s entrance and exit from the Prada store is the load between her legs.

But that’s a secret for the two of you.

*

“Hey. Could I talk to you about something?”

In your two years of dating Sana, never have you heard her this nervous in your life. The fact that your client isn’t responding to you a day before his trial plagues you no more, and your laptop is shut before she can close the door. 

Your posture—arms crossed atop the desk and back straight—is all she needs. The message is implicit: I’m here, all ears, and she smiles softly as she walks over to the bed. The frame creaks a little as she settles down.

“My uh… My Dad is organising another one of those damned Balls again.” The way she intonates her words tells you that the Ball is the least of her concerns at the moment. “It’s gonna be at the usual time.. Usual place… Not like we can move it anyway.”

You offer her a chuckle to assuage her, diffuse the tension a little. She manages a half-forced giggle at her own joke. Is this a transitional opening? Or is this legitimately the subject of her conversation? you’re thinking, and as you sip from your cup, that subtle shift in her posture is shifting the atmosphere of the room. 

She’s scared, but of what?

“I was wondering,” she drums her nails against her knees, “could I… Introduce you to him tomorrow? M-My Dad I mean.”

And now you suddenly understand why she’s on edge. She’s not scared for herself; she’s scared for you. The head of the Minatozaki clan, Sana’s father—you heard much about him, partly because of the stories that Sana tells you and partly from the things you heard through the grapevine at work. In your firm, there’s a whole box dedicated to storing suits that have been opened by him on the intern’s table (it’s a hilariously off-putting thing to say out loud), and from what you’ve heard: there’s another two in the storage room. Personally, you’ve assisted a colleague in one of his lawsuits, and the emails you billed weren’t pretty. You’d be throwing out a fib if you ever couched that you never once thought: It’s a pretty bad first impression of the man, could he maybe… You know… Stop suing people? Please? but you’re not going to let a mere few boxes and one night of reading through emails determine your perception of Sana’s father. 

And hopefully, he won’t judge a book by its cover too.

“I have a trial tomorrow Sha,” you remind her, but it’s not like you actually expected her to remember this; you whispered it to her while cuddling on the couch a solid week ago. “I don’t know when I’ll end. It might be a little tight for me.”

It's undeniable that she sighs in relief. The blush that follows the breath is a clear indication. She’s glad, too glad. You can't help but ask: What’s up? Think I’ll flub everything when I meet him?

Sana does that thing where she wants to answer, but doesn’t know how to: her mouth opens, closes, opens again—longer this time, then closes again. It isn’t an easy thing to talk about; what your father will think of your partner is never not a touchy matter. All touchy matters should be discussed in comfort (Sana knows that you strongly believe in this, that’s why she’s situated herself on the bed), and you join her on the mattress. 

“WIll he feel that I’m not enough for you?” You’re prodding, all while you gently reach for her hand and grasp it in your own. It’s cold, really cold. You’ll warm it up with your palms, keep them there while she replies, “it’s not that… I know that you’re more than enough for me, that’s what matters to him… At least I think so.”

She’s staring down at her hand, the one that’s slowly heating up via the warmth of your hand. Then what’s making you so worried? you’re asking. She folds her bottom in, past her front teeth. You rub her knuckle with your thumb.

“Yea I… I don’t know what’s making me so worried either,” she finally muses. “Guess I’m just… New to this practice. Never had to do it before...”

Because all the men that have tried to win you over have never lasted for more than a week, you complete in your head, smiling as she lays her other hand over yours. It’s cold too—that won’t do.

And as you set another hand atop hers, she’s asking you for a kiss. Luckily for her, obliging her wants is your specialty, and your lips are quickly travelling that small gap between the two of you. Connection is made, and you physically feel her relax. You know. You know that she belides a truth that she’s not ready to divulge. It’s in her kiss, it’s in her hands, and that’s fine with you. You can infer that it’s not something that’s going to be detrimental to your relationship, and whenever she’s ready to speak about it, you’ll always be available.

Now the kiss is done, she’s asking for fried chicken. You counter-ask if the kiss was to soften you up so that she could ask for her Famichiki. Of course, you get a classic Sana reply: a “maybe”, followed by that mischievous grin. You rise from the bed to grab your coat. 

You're glad that the Konbini is just next to your apartment. Sana’s glad that she gets to be close to you as you walk through the snowy street.

“You know,” she’s whispering, “I really won’t mind if you propose to me one of these days.”

You laugh it off, kiss her on her forehead. 

In your head: you note to start looking for a nice ring.

*

Money can get you to places, but it can also get you a private soundproof karaoke room in a club. Three and a half years of dating—that’s all you need to know: you can bet your left kidney that Sana is taking full advantage of that room.

The bottle of Whisky that she opened to get the room is hardly the main event; Sana, slowly slipping out of that tight black dress she’s wearing, foreground to the default music that’s on the TV, has your unwavering attention. The smile on her face could've been mistaken for a sweet one if it weren’t for the fact that she’s getting naked, and the lack of a bra really doesn’t help with her case either.

“There isn’t a time limit to the use of this room, right?” You know the answer to that is no, the lady at the counter told you so. The question is more of a gauge, an instrument that’s helping you assess her plans for the night.

“If you’re trying to know how long we’ll be here for,” she slings her dress onto the couch next to you, and in her stockings and panties, saunters over with a sultry sway in her hips, “my answer is a secret.”

“I have work tomorrow, Sana.”

“Too bad. Call in sick.”

She picks up the glass of Whisky, raises it to her lips. When she drinks, she lets some of that amber liquid trickle out past her lips, down past her chin and onto her tits. In the light, her wet skin glistens and shimmers, and you once again find yourself in absolute awe with the woman before you. And as she straddles you, glass in hand, the way she uses her fingers to tilt your face up to the light tells you that she’s in control. She takes a sip of the amber liquid, swallows it, then brings it to your lips.

“Be a good boy,” she’s tipping the glass as she speaks, a strong way to convey that there’s no room for disobedience, “say ‘ahh’ for me baby.” 

The glass is cold against your lips, the liquor even colder on your tongue as it flows into your mouth at a manageable rate. When she stops pouring, you take the cue, and you swallow all of it in one gulp. The burn in your throat is oddly rewarding, probably because Sana’s smiling down at you, stroking your hair and telling you how obedient you are as you swallow. Then she makes you open your mouth again, pours another portion down the hatch. 

How does it taste, she’s asking, cupping your right cheek as she swirls the glass. You give her a short honest review of it: It’s good. The answer pleases her, and she sets down the glass in her hand to pick up the bottle from the table next to you. 

“Yamazaki, 12 year old single Malt.” She’s letting you see the bottle under the light, though you have to admit that her tits right next to the bottle are a horrible distraction. “My personal favourite.”

She unscrews the cap and takes a swig straight from the bottle, swallows it without even flinching. She’s always been able to hold her alcohol well, and you know for a fact that she can probably outdrink 5 of your colleagues and maybe, just maybe, your boss too. But you’ll never have a fair gauge on how well she can drink in comparison to your peers; she only drinks around you. 

Your face is back in her hand, and she’s got some more things to say—Drink it neat, on the rocks, add it to another drink, it tastes great no matter what—as she starts to lightly grind herself over your throbbing shaft in your pants. But you know what the best way to drink it is, she asks you. She’s not looking for an answer from you, just finding a way to transition from the Whisky to whatever it is she has in mind—you can tell because she leans down to capture lips right after she throws out the inquiry, kissing you deeply, her tongue playing aggressively on your lips before searching your mouth for its counterpart. The smell of Whisky is so damn strong on her breath, and the only thing hotter than the burning sensation in your throat is the fact that she’s using one hand to play with herself, the bottle of Whisky in the other. You can hear it slosh next to your ear as she raises it. 

And as she breaks the kiss, the thin strand of saliva connecting the two of you doesn’t stop her from providing the answer to her question—it tastes the best when you drink it right off my body—as she straightens herself. The next second, still playing with herself, she’s bringing the bottle to her lips, tipping it just before it touches those red-tinted lips to let the golden liquid flow down her chest and breasts. There's no time to admire; you reach out and catch the rapidly falling liquid, your tongue pressed tightly to her skin to lap up as much of the bitter liquor as you could. Her skin glistens with the Whisky on it. It looks like gold in the snow. She smells like lavender and lust.

Your tongue, saturated with Whisky, finds and captures her left nipple. You close your lips around it, suckling deeply from her chest, enjoying the taste of her body and the liquor that made it spicy and bitter. Sana gasps and moans as you have your way with her chest, fondling her small mounds, suckling both of her taut nipples—roughly, hungrily. You could say that she’s wasted some perfectly good Whisky, but you say that she’s added complex flavours to an already exquisite meal. The blend of alcohol and Sana’s skin is not something you never knew you needed, but now you do. The novelty of it, the sheer lust she’s emanating, all of it makes her tits taste better than ever, and you find yourself leaving marks on her cleavage, the right side of her left breast, the left side of her right breast; every centimetre of skin that can be reached is marked and tasted—your attempt at dipping your toes in a little control in this karaoke room that is Sana’s domain.

Maybe you’re a little over-indulgent in her, maybe you’re just unaware, but you certainly can’t feel her slipping your tie off your neck. By the time you’re aware of the sudden feeling of freedom at your throat, she’s already wrapping your wrists, securing them together with an intricate knot. You know damn well that even the boy scouts couldn’t untie this one, even if they sent their best member. The theory is only enforced when Sana asks you to try pulling your wrists apart, and it feels like they’ve been superglued together. Satisfied, she feeds you some more Whisky off her body, then it’s time for her fun.

Palm flat against your chest, eyes flaring, wicked smile; Sana pushed you back against the couch with graceful authority—something that only she is capable of. Then it’s onto your shirt, and he’s unbuttoning it with practised dexterity: unfastening, pulling—motions so fast that she has your reverence for mastering the art. She takes a moment, parts the fabric covering your chest and runs a fingernail down the centre of your torso. The nail—painted black with little Sakura flowers adorning it—stops at your belt. It isn’t hesitance that keeps her finger there; it’s the innate cheekiness that makes her linger there a little longer, that makes her smile softly as the other hand joins in and starts undoing the clasp of your belt. Not a word is uttered as she pulls apart your belt, then goes straight for the buckle of your belt. 

Then it’s back to kissing. Sloppy, passionate kissing. Sloppy, passionate kissing as she runs her fingers through your hair. The Whisky on both of your breaths mingle. Admittedly, you’re feeling a little floaty, engendering a pleasant tingle on your skin as she starts placing kisses on your cheek, then on your jaw. Next thing you know, she’s sucking hard at the nape of your neck, marking you with those lovely lips, as if she’s placing a wax seal on you, declaring: you are mine and mine alone. And when she successfully sears the shape of her lips onto your skin, she traces the slick outline with a finger, whispers softly, You have no idea how much I want to own you right now. 

The excitement is palpable, the tension even more so. She’s whispering all sorts of things to you—most of them entailing what she’s about to do with your cock—all while she starts to slip your briefs off of your legs. Your cock springs out of your pants, slaps against her ass and twitches on the rotund flesh. The smile grows wider, devilish dimples appear. And for the record: no, she’s not gonna blow you. She’s gonna make herself cum before anything else happens, and she’s going to make you feel things you’ve never felt before. 

She slides off you, gets back up on her feet. With her back turned to you, she bends forward at the waist, shaking her ass while she uses her thumbs to hook onto the waistband of her panties. She looks over her shoulder, eyes locked on yours. With a little hop, she pushes the fabric down and off her hips, kicking it to the side. She looks over her shoulder, eyes locked on yours. With a little hop, she pushes the fabric down and off her hips, kicking it to the side. Her pussy glistens in the light, flushed pink and folds tantalising as ever puffy and swollen with excitement.

She bends her knees, getting down on all fours.

She wiggles her ass at you, looking back at you over her shoulder.

“Bet you wished,” she gets on her back, spreads her legs to get the spotlight on her slit, “that you could absolutely own me like this right now, don’t you?”

She’s so cocksure. It’s driving you crazy. You swallow, your voice barely audible as you utter her name. She crawls to you, sits up, her face in front of yours, so close, so hot. Her hand touches the back of your head, her voice barely a whisper as she grips the base of your cock—but you can’t, and it’s so damn frustrating, isn’t it?—and rubs your tip between her dripping folds, lathering her juices all over your head and smiling all the way through. 

And when you least expect it, she turns and sinks down on your cock.

You throw your head back, groan, the sound of her wetness as she takes your cock into her pussy loud and clear over the music. Your head falls forward again, watching her sink further and further, taking more and more of your cock inside her with every passing moment as she lets a long, drawn-out moan float through the air. When her crotch meets yours and you are fully embedded inside her, a soft, wordless cry of pleasure that leaves open lips. You meet it with a sigh of your own, somehow tearing open your own shut eyes to watch the expression on her beautiful face as you fill her. 

Christ, fuck and god—just some of the words that you want to cry out as she starts to slowly grind herself against you. The ride she’s about to take is one that’s of perverse nature; it’s not going to be a slow, pleasant ride. Naturally, her habit of jumping straight into things leaves her unprepared for what she’s about to experience, so now she has to slowly slowly adjust to your size, like striking the flint over and over next to the fireplace as you hope to get a flame going. Usually, this would be a time where you’d caress that beautiful body, run your hands over that unblemished white skin and pepper kisses all over the places that she loves to be kissed. But she’s not in the mood for that, not when she has this room and you at her disposal. 

Then the fire ignites, and it is merciless, a force of nature—untameable, unrelenting. In your bonds you are unable to resist. You never would’ve in the first place. She begins to move, her pussy tight and slick around your cock. She rides you like she was made to do this, like a pro. She rides you fiercely, roughly, taking you in and out of her tight wet heat, caring little for your comfort or much of anything aside from stuffing herself over and over with thick, hard meat. Throughout it all she is digging into your thigh, crying out like her life depends on it as she goes up, down, up, down—a lewd seat on a merry go round.

Yes, yes, yes—she throws her head back, auburn hair flying like streamers in the wind as she has her way with you—o-oh fuck I need this! I need this so fucking bad! The rhythmic, repetitive motion, her unbridled desire to be filled, it sends you reeling. The pressure on your leg is forgotten, the slight discomfort in your arms pushed out of the way. You can do nothing but watch her ride you. You can do nothing but marvel at how good you feel inside her, how the tightness of her pussy massages your shaft, how the way she takes you so completely into her folds, how you stretch her and make her quiver and quake.

A part of you wishes the mirror were visible from your current position, so that you could watch as Sana impales herself over and over on your cock. You want to watch the expression of pleasure wrangle her cute features, want to watch her full, round breasts bounce up and down, want to watch every muscle of her long, perfectly shaped legs work to throw her body again and again against your cock. But you’ll have to content yourself with the almost equally alluring view of her sweaty back (not that it was a particularly difficult position to enjoy. How could you call it “bad” with the view of her round, full ass as she slams it down against your crotch?). It’s not like you can change anything about this anyway. No—the only thing you can do is sit back, watch, and savour how her ass jiggles as it crashes against your crotch.

Oh fuck, oh yes! I’m so fucking full! I’m so stuffed with this cock!

You lose yourself to the sound of her voice, the feeling of her pussy as it swallows up your cock, the sight of her back arching and her hands shaking. As much as you try, you find yourself unable to move, as though your own pleasure has been drained out of your body, and you are just an observer. You watch as she pushes herself down further on your cock, impaling herself with every thrust of her hips, her voice growing louder and louder as she gets into that dangerous rhythm, the rhythm that makes you think she’s on Acid. Well-formed breasts bounce, you see them past her slender figure. Her shapely, luscious ass ripples. Long legs work overtime, cooperating with the stamina of the girl who is using them to drive herself over the edge like it’s her be-all and end-all. It’s exhilarating. It’s thrilling. 

It’s so fucking hot. 

Oh god. You’re stretching me out so good. This cock feels so damn good!

Two things are getting you at the moment: (1) The sweat glistening that’s building up on her back. (2) The fact that she’s pushing your thighs apart to get more of you inside her. The former sight is a breathtaking process really: beady moisture on that well built back, pooling at all the best places and making her skin glow as some of it slowly trickles down her spine. The latter’s no grain of sand either mind you, maybe even hotter than Sana’s sweaty back if you dare say. Freshly done nails sit just outside the insides of your thighs, the palms that they’re connected to pushing down against the flesh beneath them. They’re indenting the muscles of your thighs, it’s uncomfortable, but only for a second at a time. 

I don’t wanna stop. I don’t wanna fucking stop!

In your restraints, your hands grasp at the flesh that’s so close yet so far, the skin that’s rippling and slapping against yours. Her ass taunts you, tempts you, teases you. It’s so frustrating yet so erotic; you aren’t sure if you should welcome this mix of emotions or reject it before it folds its wings and nestles itself in your chest. The mix of desire and vexation, exasperation and ecstasy—any two emotions that shouldn’t go together are mixing, blending, forming these bubbles in your chest that you can’t explain. 

One woman; innumerable sensations.

You need more. More of everything. More of her.

You wish you could touch her.

You wish you could fuck her.

But all you can do is watch, watch as she starts going down harder, crying out even louder. 

Her body, so flawlessly feminine, is in deadly motion, working you over from the inside like you’ve never experienced. The air is filled with the wet, lewd sounds of her pussy sucking you in your hips slapping against her ass, her moans and groans, her curses that seem to go on perennially, blending in perfectly with that shitty synth in the background.

And you’re just along for the ride.

You have no idea… How good this is.. Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

And she wants you to see it, she wants you to watch her—it is exactly that kind of attention that she is basking in. So you watch. You watch her, the way she looks back at you, the way her eyes flare as she takes you in, the way her hands claw at your leg. The way she's moaning with that lilt back in her voice. Everything about this spectacle seems like it’s been scripted for some porno, and her body is certainly making you feel like you’re in one. The only grasp on reality that this situation offers is… Well, nothing. And it’s not that there really isn’t anything for you to root yourself in this real world, rather you’re choosing not to make that mental effort to do so; every little corner of your mind is being bled with whatever colour the image of Sana bouncing on your cock is. There’s no room for reality, and it's addicting, enthralling.

Fuck. You can't get enough of her, and you probably never will.

So deep! So fucking… Oh my god!

Your breath is ragged, and it takes every bit of control you have left in you to not cum right then and there. It takes every ounce of focus not to simply give in to her, not to simply melt into the couch, not to lose your mind to the sensation of her tight, wet slick as it swallows you in, pushes you out; fucking itself over and over and over again on your rock hard shaft. You don't know how much longer you can hold out for, and as if she can tell, Sana starts to move faster, her movements getting even more aggressive. The slaps of her ass against your crotch are louder now, and the wet smacking sound of her pussy's getting faster and faster. Her fingers are digging into your leg, her moans more frequent and more desperate. You can feel her tightening around you, the way her walls clamp down, the way her legs are trembling, the way her voice is going up in pitch. 

(It’s the moments of privacy that really get her going; the moments where she can scream and cuss and moan like there’s no tomorrow are everything to her. 

Yes, she likes fucking in public spaces for the thrill of it, but she likes it better when she can hold you freely as you fill her, not having to care for the fact that the way her body’s positioned engenders any discomfort or risk of being heard.

Yes, she likes it when there’s the chance that someone can walk in on the two of you, but the prospect of being able to own your cock, uninterrupted and unheard, thrills her like nothing else in the damn world.

Yes, she likes to see if she can hold in her cries while you’re rearranging her insides in a bathroom stall, but she prefers it much more when she can slam herself down on your cock—be loud and be proud of the fact that she loves every inch of meat that fills her till she can barely breathe. 

Bottom line: she likes chasing that thrill of being caught, but she loves those moments where she’s alone with you in private even more. Now is one of those times, and God… She’s barely herself anymore.

She is a storm of pure, unfiltered lust. And you must say: it’s fucking sublime.)

Then the game changing sentence comes from her, and it's beautiful. 

"I'm fucking cumming!"

The words ring out, clear and loud. And she doesn't stop; she keeps riding you, taking you into her wet hole and milking your cock, using you to bring herself off. It's not until the final second that she slows down, her back arching as she lets out the most satisfying scream that you have ever heard in your entire life. It is all that you can do to watch as she slumps forward, breaths ragged and body twitching as you hold yourself back. It takes everything—every fibre, every cell and every last bit of will—to not cum in her right there and then. And when the final spasm has passed and the shuddering has subsided, when Sana has collapsed against you, your cock still buried inside her, she turns to you.

There are no words spoken, just a mutual understanding of what comes next. She slips off the couch, takes your slick shaft in her hands. A few pumps are delivered, and they’re considerate and slow; she’s good at building tension.

“You’ve already marked my tits. Might as well cum on them.” She’s still got some cheekiness left in her, and that smile is really doing everything for you. 

“Fuck, Sana, I—” “Do it. Paint me.”

You feel the semen gather in your balls before coursing up your shaft and erupting from its tip, landing in thick, wet, warm ropes upon Sana’s creamy skin. Your tip is directed between her cleavage, and the first spurt of cum shoots itself between those wonderful mounds. It’s quickly followed by a second rope, and the third lands on her upper chest. With grace, she manages to direct your spurting cock by the base so the fourth and fifth ropes cover the front of her tits, then the rest don’t matter anymore.

The last ropes of thick, warm semen land upon her face, staining her soft, blushing features with creamy white cum. Some of it lands on her cheeks, on her forehead and onto her open mouth and the thirsty tongue within it. When you finally open eyes you hadn’t known had closed, the picture of Minatozaki Sana, face and chest painted with your warm, thick cum, is one you never want to forget. And as she scoops up your seed with her fingers, she’s got a thing or two to say.

“Excellent load,” she whispers, watching as the cum slithers down her palm. “Plus two to you.”

Just two? Is your reply of false bewilderment. Sana chortles. 

Maybe if you can give me a load up my ass, I’ll consider adding another three points.

*

Now the ring’s oddly heavy in your pocket. 

Sana’s father seems more imposing than he should for a man his size, and looking at the Yamazaki bottle on the desk, you can tell that Sana gets her liking for Whisky from him. 

“I’ve never met you in my life,” he begins, “and now you come here like a friend, asking for my daughter’s hand in marriage?”

Sana’s head is bowed. In the corner of the office she sits, hands clasped over one another as she listens in silently. No amount of trials or oral submissions could ever prepare you for this tension.

“Mr Minatozaki… I understand that all of this is sudden,” you begin, but you’re interrupted by a raised hand.

“You know boy… You sure do talk like you know everything about the situation.” His voice is nowhere near threatening as he speaks, and it’s absolutely terrifying. “For a lawyer, you sure do sound quite the fool. Guess I shouldn’t have been expecting much considering your background.”

And it’s that very statement that has you on tenterhooks. You’ve never met him, never even seen his face, yet he knows your occupation which you never even touched on, and from the sound of it, knows what went down in your family. Sana’s head snaps up, her eyes wide as she watches her father produce a file from under his desk. 

“It’s not the suddenness,” the air quotations he uses hold more weight than they really should, “that doesn’t sit well with me dear boy. No, no… It’s more than that.”

The broad leather chair in his office grows constricting. As he rises from his seat, the foam that holds your butt up seems to depress. And as he begins—if you sauntered in here as just a lawyer, I would’ve let you take my daughter in a heartbeat!—his explanation of what’s grinding his gears, you start feeling uneasy. For context on the severity of this feeling: the last time you felt like this was when you first met his daughter.

But you’re not just a lawyer—he’s opening the file in his hands, flipping through its contents—you’re a disgrace to this very world. You shouldn’t even be in this damn house right now. 

Into the file his hand reaches, and out from it: two mugshots. You bristle; Sana gasps (and it’s not that she didn’t know, rather because she was shocked that her father knew.)

So it’s the next sentence that seals your fate. Frankly, you kind of expected it, but it still doesn’t take away from the sheer bedlam that goes down in your head when Mr Minatozaki waves the mugshots of your parents before your face and shrieks at the top of his lungs. 

This isn’t the way you pictured this going. 

Honestly, you never pictured this happening at all.

 “Do you seriously think for a second that I’d let the son of two druggies—two disgraceful, repugnant, filthy, druggies—marry my daughter?”

*

It’s hard to forget what she told you over the phone after your talk with her father (if you can even call it that): we’ll figure this out. I promise you, we’ll figure this out. 

Money can get you a nice fancy Ball, some nice Whisky and a private Karaoke room. Naturally, it can grant you a means to keep the son of two convicted drug abusers that hung themselves in their cells away from your daughter. 

So not even 12 hours after that fate-sealing conversation did you get a phone call from your boss. Next thing you know, you’re uprooted from your workplace in Osaka, transferred to the branch in Nagoya; Sana’s number mysteriously changes itself, none of your letters ever reach her. 

It’s over the payphone, months after all of this, that Sana finally reaches you, and she’s ugly crying over the phone. 

We can fix this, we’ll figure something out. We’ll figure this out. I promise you, we’ll figure this out. 

In a way, she ended up being right. 

And in your suit, you smile as you watch her walk down the aisle. She’s beautiful as ever, and you feel like that white veil over her face is doing her the biggest disservice ever. The little boy carrying the wedding rings seems a little confused, but it only adds to his adorable aura as he stumbles behind Sana. The flower petals are being scattered, the crowd’s on their feet. They’re clapping; you’re crying. Have you mentioned that she looks beautiful?

Oh? You have? Odd…

But just in case it slips your mind, you tell her how beautiful she is in your head, all while she walks right past you and continues to the stage. It feels like the ring boy’s acting stupid to taunt you for being the fool here. 

In a way, she ended up being right. If “We” referred to Sana’s father and that man on the stage, “We” did indeed end up figuring things out. The invite broke you, and this wedding is breaking you even more. You know that this invite wasn’t sent by Sana—she isn’t cruel. This has the fingerprints of her father all over it: the seat close to the aisle, your wristband to authorise your access to the venue holding the same serial code as your father’s prisoner ID… All of it is him. 

But there’s not much you can do about it is there? You chose to come, you chose this for yourself. There was the option to not come, to tear the invite up and go cry in your apartment in Nagoya, but you bought the Shinkansen ticket here, didn’t you? You walked through the doors of this damn place and took your seat, didn’t you?

And the Yamazaki doesn’t taste as good as it should, and the Spring air is sharper than it should be at the afterparty. They’re over there, congratulating the newly weds and wishing them all the best; you’re over here, sipping on your neat Whisky behind a bush as the music roars on.

It really shouldn’t be a question on how she finds you; she knows you too well to know where you’d go at a place like this. And in her wedding gown, she stands where she is, this look of a god-knows-what mix of emotions simmering on her face. You rub your nose with a thumb, sip on the bitter Whisky as your remedy. No words are spoken, not even a “hey” or “how have you been”—both of you know that there’s no use in starting a conversation here. It’ll go sob, fast, and this isn’t the place for it.

There will never be a place for it.

So why not substitute words with actions? 

So in her bare feet, she hikes up her gown, runs over to you, lunges to close those years of separation between you two to hug you like she used to. The Whisky is knocked out of your hands; you’re knocked off your feet. And in the grass, she buries her head into your shoulder and weeps. 

You always thought that only death would make you cry, but now as you hold her for what may very well be the last time, you realise: you're not as tough as you think.

Like a Lemon, the realisation that comes is bitter, and it has you bawling.

Cause maybe in a world that wasn’t so cruel, you could’ve been the one on that stage.

(Then the two of you could be in love, happier than ever.)

[slowlyoats]

The Lost Boys: What are their indulgences? 

Marko 

strawberry lip balm 

He absolutely despises having chapped lips 

If he’s not careful, during the winter he will end up with raw, chapped lips like an elementary schooler, from licking them to keep them moist

So how did the strawberry lip balm come into play?

He has Paul to thank 

One cold winter evening Marko’s lips were bright red and raw, and Paul of course couldn’t keep his thoughts to himself and pointed out that Marko looked like a clown.

He went on all night coming up with what Marko’s “clown name” should be! 

While Paul was bouncing around the cave shouting out clown names like a maniac, he came across a tin of strawberry chapstick that must have fallen out of the pocket of one of their victims 

He promptly CHUCKED the Tin at Marko’s face and shouted “here! Problem solved bingo the clown!” 

After Marko chased Paul around the cave for a good hour, and David screamed at them to cut it out, Marko tried the lip balm, and the rest is history 

He will only use strawberry, and he doesn’t give a crap what the boys have to say about it because his lips don’t feel like they are going to peel off anymore

unfortunately that brand of lip balm was discontinued for containing lead about 10 years ago, so Marko has had to expand his lip balm horizons 

Paul 

Bracelets 

The boy looks like he belongs in a Christian rock band 

He would wear bracelets up to his elbows if he could!

One of his favorite past times on the boardwalk (besides looking for dinner) is looking through all the vender stalls for new bracelets

This is actually how they met Star! 

She was selling jewelry she made in a stall, and Paul swiped a bracelet from her 

She of course chased after him for it!

She somehow managed to tackle him to the ground 

Paul of course made some cheeky comment about being pinned to the ground 

While Star was distracted by the comment, Paul managed to swipe another bracelet from her wrist 

Paul fanned a fake apology and gave her the original stolen bracelet back 

Star didn’t realize she was missing a bracelet from her person till way later that night 

Dwayne 

cherry coke 

And not the crap that’s in a bottle that you get from a convenience store 

No. He’s talking the stuff you get at a soda shop where they make them to order and mix the syrups and tonics together by hand

Unfortunately, there aren’t a lot of places like this around anymore in the US

Fortunately for him though there is one place on the Boardwalk that sells them 

The candy store on the Boardwalk opened sometime in the 30s, and still has its original soda counter with its resident soda jerk.

The soda jerk is an old timer that’s been working there since he was 14. 

He knows Dwayne’s order without even asking and prepares it for him once he walks in the typically, very, crowded door

Dwayne usually takes his cherry coke to go, since he’s well aware of how people perceive him and the boys and doesn’t want to drive the owner's customers away

David 

petting dogs 

(I know I know this one is weird but hear me out!)

David is viewed as the tough, scary leader of the lost boys, and he’s not complaining about that. In fact, he LOVES seeing the fear in people's eyes when him and his boy's role in every night on their bikes. 

But, when he sees a chonky, Basest Hound wobble its way down the Boardwalk with its human, the man cannot resist giving that good boy or girl a nice pet on the head 

Doing this is tricky though, since most people (especially the locals) take one look at him and cross to the other side of the street 

And, not to mention dogs can sense vampires and identify them as predators pretty quickly 

So, he has to be tactful 

He waits till the owner is distracted, and the boys are definitely NOT AROUND (he has a reputation to uphold!) and sneaks over and gives that dog some nice pets 

Or if the dog is off lease, he will lure the dog over to him with a hot dog he found on the ground or trash 

This of course is if the dog will even go near him. Like I said before dogs can sense that there is something UP with the boys and tend to keep their distance, and, or will bare their teeth to protect themselves and their owner 

I think David’s love for dogs comes from when he was a child

He grew up in a family that bread dogs for extra cash, and he misses being able to sleep in a dog pile every night like he did when he was a child 

*Cough cough* which is why the boy's sleeping arrangements is the way it is. 

[unoislazy]

Flowers In Bloom

(Jiyan x Reader)

Wuthering Waves

Spoilers for Jiyan’s story quest.

(Some of this may be inaccurate, I’ll get better at figuring out his character as time goes on so bare with me for now)

The city of Jinzhou was never described as a quiet place, in fact many believed it to be quite the opposite. People were constantly around, tending to others, doing their jobs, or even just hanging out with friends. There was always something happening in Jinzhou.

So much so that at some points, the life of such a busy city could get pretty stifling. The feeling that one must always be going somewhere and doing something, it got in the way of remembering to relax. So that’s why you had always set out to take a moment to relax amongst the flowers near the Square Bell.

It was quite a solemn area, as it was there to honour those who had fallen in battle, but the respect for the area made it all the more peaceful. On one of your many trips to this area, you had noticed a plot of plants that you couldn’t identify. They looked to be like wheat or lavender, but it was clearly not one or the other.

You decided to pay it no mind as you continued your visits until you saw the sprout of one forming. It didn’t seem like it had been watered that day, so you decided to go out of your way and water it yourself. It felt nice, almost as if you were somehow helping tend to the fallen soldiers of the area… but you didn’t know why.

From then on it just simply became a habit. Any time you’d visit you’d water the ones that seemed like the needed to be watered and sit amongst the plants to watch the sunset. That was until one day you went to do your usual visit and you saw a man who you hadn’t seen before, admiring them as he stood on the pavement in front of the bell.

You bit your lip, wondering if you should say something to him. Maybe he knew more about the flowers than you did.

“They’re lovely, aren’t they?” You asked as you walked up to the man. He didn’t react physically but it was clear he had been a bit startled by your appearance before he relaxed.

“They are.” He responded, his expression softening the slightest bit as he looked over to you. His eyes traveled down to the water pail you held in your hands which caused a small smile to appear on his face; so small one would hardly even notice it if they weren’t looking for it.

You couldn’t help but stare at the man for a moment. He looked familiar but you couldn’t quite place exactly where you had seen him from, if at all. His clothing was no where near casual, and he seemed to be wearing pieces of armour, so no doubt he was helping fight.

Your eyes slowly made their way to his face. His eyes, while a beautiful golden colour, held a very far away look as if he was lost deep in the trenches of his own mind. His hair was a teal colour, which wasn’t exactly unusual but it was styled in a way you almost thought to be odd, but it looked good though so you weren’t complaining. As you continued to quickly look over the man, he snapped back out of his thoughts and turned back to you fully.

“Do you often come here to take care of the plants?” He asked, gesturing to the water pail in your hand. His words managed to snap you out of your thoughts as well as you looked down at your own hands, having forgotten you were even holding something to begin with.

“Oh! Yes, yes I do.” You exclaimed, trying to cover up the fact that you hadn’t been entirely paying attention. It was clear the man knew but he paid no mind to it.

“I saw a sprout that needed watering one day and decided to help out. I don’t even know how long ago that was at this point.” You thought to yourself, you had been doing this for a few months, maybe a little more.

“I was wondering how they were getting replenished so often. I must thank you for your commitment.” He said, looking away for a moment to survey the area, taking in the peace and quiet that the spot had to offer before turning back to you.

“So… I assume you come here a lot as well?” You asked, trying to strike up a conversation with the mysterious man. Had you seen him fully before you spoke to him, you might’ve been too scared to say anything. He looked to be such a strict and intimidating man and yet the feelings that surrounded him as you spoke were nothing but relaxed and gentle.

“When I have time.” He answered with a nod, gesturing for you to stand more beside him. You obliged and stood next to him, now looking over the city and the plants that swayed gently in the wind before the two of you.

“I take it you have friends who have fallen then, unless I am assuming too much.” You said, hoping your assumption wasn’t offensive in some way. The last thing you wanted was to anger this man, do a wave of nerves smacked you in the face while you waited for his reply. A melancholy look washed over the man’s face.

However, despite his saddened look, his smile remained on his face as he noticed your sudden change in demeanour. The question didn’t offend him by any means, so it was a little funny to him to see you back track as if it did.

“You are correct. In fact I’ve known many people who have ended up here, that’s why I planted these.” He said, turning his attention to the plants.

“I planted them in the hopes that if there is an afterlife, those who have fallen can look in at Jinzhou with these plants.” He explained, his gaze shifting to look up at the city that, like always, never seemed to rest for long. You looked over to him in surprise. Not only did he plant them but you also pieces together that he without a doubt had been fighting alongside a handful of these people.

“That’s a beautiful sentiment.” You responded, also looking back at the city, “I’m sure they enjoy the view.” You continued, a smile making its way onto your own face as you looked over at the sun. It had been a lot later in the day than you initially realized.

“While the plants are made to be resilient, I’m sure they appreciated your constant care.” The man mentioned, that same small smile having yet to leave his face. Despite his intimidating nature he seemed to be quite a nice man.

“I’m glad to have been of some help to them.” You responded quietly.

“Are you from Jinzhou ?” You asked, you might as well considering he didn’t seem to mind your conversation.

“I have moved around to many places as I grew up, but Jinzhou is where I seem to always come back to,” He answered in a more wistful manner before continuing. “Although it has been some time since I’ve been back, so I’m not sure what has changed exactly.”

You perked up at this as you looked over to him, your interest very clear on your face which caused the man a slight bit of confusion.

“So you haven’t been to the new restaurant that opened up?” You questioned. You were referring to a smaller business that not many people frequented given the fact that it had yet to gain the beloved reputation that the surrounding places had. However, you had gone one day to try it and loved it ever since.

The man shook his head, meeting your gaze with confusion as you seemed to become only more enthusiastic.

“We should go some time, I could show you where it is. I’m not sure exactly what your taste in food is, but I’m sure you’ll love it. They make a killer Jinzhou stew.” You claimed eagerly which quickly gained the interest of the man before you.

“It wouldn’t hurt to try, maybe we could go tomorrow… If you’re free that is.” He asked, almost hesitating through his sentence as he went through it. You simply smiled, your excitement having yet to die down before you nodded.

“That sounds like a great idea. We could meet here at the same time to make it easy.” You offered to which he nodded in return. You hadn’t really noticed but his smile had grown since your initial offer. It wasn’t exactly rare for him to smile, but it certainly wasn’t an expression he had all the time.

He looked to you before he looked up at the sky, realizing that the sun had long since set and the night sky was becoming more visible.

“I should get going, but I will see you here tomorrow, right?” He asked before beginning to walk off.

You nodded gleefully, excited to show off your favorite place to someone, not even realizing what had just happened. As the man turned away from you to walk off you looked over him again. The teal colours, the dragon scaled armour, the fact he’s been fighting for a time period you couldn’t even begin to imagine.

It finally hit you.

“That was General Jiyan…” You muttered absentmindedly, simply staring at the man as you finally pieces together who he was. This entire time you had been speaking with him so casually and yet he was the very well respected general that everyone and their mother has heard about.

And then the rest of the conversation finally caught up with you as well.

“And I just asked him on a date.” You muttered, completely lost as to how you managed to go this long without it clicking.

What you hadn’t realized though was that your revealation had been heard by the man himself, earning a stifled chuckle from him as he walked off.

[gnomewithalaptop]

I'm still too distracted to write so here have a list of YJ-cast centric fics that make me froth at the mouth

Kon-centric recs:

I Want It That Way (1990s Tim/Kon) by WynterSky / @wynterstars -- A revamped, 90s-style Superboy origin story with added Lex Luthor AND a lil bit of 90s Robin for spice and flavor. Honestly, this whole series is so elite -- goes hard with the Superboy mythos + angst PLUS the third fic leans hard into the secret identity shenanigans in a way that'd make Miraculous Ladybug jealous. The first fic splits its attention between Tim and Kon, but the latter two are solidly Kon-centric

one plus one (easy math) by connerdrakewayne / @comphetkoncass -- Cassandra Cain and Kon go to a gala together. I'm always a sucker for a good Cass + Kon friendship. This one's very short and sweet, and it gets the job done -- 10/10 would read again

a timeline can be a haunted house by connerdrakewayne -- post-universal reset Kon angst + terrible coping mechanisms! This one goes so hard I read it three times. Tbh this author has an excellent handle on Kon as a character in general, so I honestly recommend just checking out their whole fic stash

Tim-centric recs:

Top 10 Secret Identity Fails by @havendance -- Tim's new English teacher is his on-again-off-again superhero teamup Helena Bertinelli (aka the Huntress). This one's just fun, okay -- the whole thing reads like it could be straight out of Tim's 1993 solo run, plus I love the dynamic between him and Helena. Overall just a very cool vibe

only the dead stay 17 forever by Sky_Dust (couldn't find their tumblr sorry) -- Listen, I've really been restraining myself here, because I realize my love for time-travel bullshit is not universal, but I genuinely couldn't not include this one. This bad boy is a Tim-centric time-loop featuring a seriously unhinged Tim -- definitely a darker tone, but I can't stop rereading it

Bart-centric recs:

reflections on respawning: a gamer's uncertainty by merils / @mamawasatesttube -- Bart has a hard conversation about his death and subsequent resurrection (feat. Kon) man, I just vibe with this one so hard. It's such a thoughtful take on Bart's more contemplative side, while still managing to keep his personality intact

the backlash to the backlash to the thing that's just begun by @kermit-coded -- trans/gnc impulse my beloved <3 also we get some funky Max & Bart bonding, made much rawer and more real by the fact that it's the 90s and nobody knows what they're doing. Again, feels like it's straight out of Bart's solo series

Cassie-centric recs:

you and I, we are more than just this armor by @suzukiblu -- KonCassie bonding + gender feels. They're both so trans in this, and the author does a great job of really digging deep into their complicated feelings (both about gender and about each other)

(also PLEASE somebody give me more Cassie-centric fic recs I'm literally begging you)

Team recs

I'm all yours but you're all mine by suzukiblu -- Poly Core 4 Soulmates AU! Essentially, everybody gets their 'soulmark'/soulmate-identifier (not really, but the best word) right when Kon wakes up in his pod, and because Superboy hasn't really made his big splash yet, they misidentify their soulmate as Superman; this is an issue mainly because 1) they're all 14-15 and Superman is roughly 30-ish, and 2) by the time this fic takes place, Superman is pretty verifiably dead. Currently in-progress, but this is such an interesting and fun take on the usual soulmates trope. I pinky promise you won't regret reading it

Love, Not Loved series by @popsunner -- hoooomygod this series makes me cry literally every time I read it, it's genuinely one of the most realistic representations of grief I've seen on AO3. Basically explores the general fucked-up-edness of pretty much the whole YJ Core 4 Squad dying one by one, with each fic focusing on a different funeral (complete with survivor's guilt, regular guilt, and just plain old complicated feelings). We get Cassie feels, we get Tim feels, we get Bart + Kon feels -- it's the whole shebang. Don't worry -- there's a happy ending eventually, but you def gotta work for it. This series beat me up and stole my lunch money and I'd happily do it all over again

Lost the Last Piece of Me by InsaneTrollLogic / @last01standing -- YJ Core 4 Animorphs AU! I'm sad to say I've never read the original Animorphs series, but every single Animorphs AU I've ever read has been such high quality. Unsurprisingly (I love this author, okay), this fic is no exception to that rule. Solid alien-invasion plot, character driven, and the world-building is explained well enough that even a newbie like me can understand (feat. some TimKon, but it's not the main focus)

Ikonoclast by anantipodean (couldn't find a tumblr) -- Tim and Kon get sent to an alternate reality that's almost (but not quite) like their own. This one's just fun for me -- I love the TimBart buildup and the worldbuilding on the other Earth is a funky time. Also, the other universe's Tim is goth and absolutely cannot stand mainstream-reality Tim, and I find that extremely funny for some reason

[kiwi-on-ice]

we need ashe smut w fem reader if u can🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

Ashe x fem!reader

Summary: As the new waitress at Panorama Diner, you quickly meet the infamous Deadlock Gang, while also gaining the interest of their ruthless leader.

Word count: 6.2k

Warnings: 18+ smut, dom!ashe, no use of y/n, lots of flirting, fingering, strap ons, spanking, slight overstim

Notes: Thank you for requesting my fav fav fav character anon! God i love Ashe and I love writing her. Also phew this is the longest fanfic i've wrote so far, hope it was worth the wait!

Having recently moved, there was one resounding fact you’ve learnt from practically everyone you’ve met so far; don’t mess with the deadlock gang.

Getting a job as a waitress along route 66, you’d been told by neighbors, new friends, even fellow colleagues to watch your back. That the deadlock gang were dangerous, unpredictable, undefeatable. And as you glance at the wanted posters that adorn the diner wall, your eyes are drawn to the leader, her mascara running down her cheeks. But its her expression that really strikes you, how severe and intense her gaze is. Reading the warning ‘Dead or Alive, Elizabeth Caledonia Ashe, $65,000,000 reward’, it really dawns on you how threatening she seems. Your finger traces the edge of the slightly ripped material, not being able to identify why exactly you can’t rip your gaze away.

Not being able to idle for long, you tear yourself away and get back to serving food and drinks, getting used to the flow of the diner and its patrons. It’s almost relaxing, most customers being pretty polite and calm as you work. You fall into a routine, especially since you have a specific uniform to wear. The diner’s management thought it would be good to have almost a 1950s theme, meaning you and the other waitresses were given blue stereotypical dresses to wear, complete with a small white apron to go around the waist. Yours was a little too tight, not that you minded. It flattered your figure quite nicely, even gaining you a few compliments.

It was quite a slow day as you stood behind the counter, in your own world as your fingers tap rhythmically on the marble. Light streamed through the glass windows, brightening the fairly empty diner as you daydream passively. Although the other waitress on staff seemingly drops a cup on the counter, causing you to turn at the noise. She seems...flustered, just as the bell rings to signal the door has opened. Following her nervous gaze, your breath catches. The deadlock gang, well only three of them, but the leader you’d recognise anywhere from how often you find yourself gazing at her wanted poster. Your colleague quickly busies herself with some coffee that you’re sure hasn’t been ordered, leaving you to seat them. You breathe slowly as you walk towards the new patrons.

Ashe seems a little frustrated, snapping at who you assume is her lieutenant as they wait to be seated, her rifle idly resting over her shoulder. She turns to look at whichever waitress will probably annoy her today, and then she sees you. Immediately her demeanour changes, looking you up and down as the furrow of her brow dissipates.

“Welcome to Panorama Diner, table for three?” you say softly, a polite smile etched on your features.

“Yeah, thanks. Preferably by one of those windows.” The leader replies, her red eyes not moving from you as you lead them to their table. Placing their menus down, you smile and leave them to decide. Releasing a breath you didn’t know you were holding, you catch the other waitress glancing at you slightly apologetically. But you don’t particularly feel that threatened or scared…but you’ve been wrong before.

“Ready to order?” you ask with your notebook out, once again putting on the customer service smile.

“Three coffees, black.” Ashe says, before looking you up and down again. “That a uniform? Or d’you just like to dress like that?”

“It’s a uniform, management are going for a 1950s theme.” You reply with a soft laugh, which Ashe seems to delight in.

“Suits ya dollface, can see why they suggested it.” She says smoothly, causing heat to unexpectedly rise to your cheeks.

“I’ll grab your drinks.” You say quickly, turning and hoping she didn’t catch how flustered you looked. You reprimand yourself as you put the coffee on, why on earth were you affected by a simple compliment? You get compliments all the time…and especially why were you affected by the compliment of a criminal gang leader? You try and shake those thoughts from your mind as you pour their drinks, placing them on the tray and carrying them.

“Here you are, can I get you guys anything else?” you ask as you place their mugs in front of them. The two men shake their head dismissively, but Ashe hums softly.

“Hm…any recommendations?”

You hesitate for a moment. “Well a lot of the waitresses here recommend the apple pie.”

“But not you?” she asks, her eyebrow quirked.

“To be honest I hate apple pie.”

This dry response cause the gang leader to laugh, actually laugh, causing the two men to stare for a moment, bewildered. “That right? Appreciate the honesty there sweetcheeks, what would you recommend?”

You take a moment to think. “The French toast is lovely, and we also have a few cakes on stand that the staff made. Chocolate and red velvet.”

“Well I think red velvet would be just sweet enough, thanks doll.” Ashe replies with a small smirk, her red lipstick illuminating as the suns rays pierce through the glass panes. You nod and quickly go to get her a slice, a little short of breath from her intense gaze. You really need to stop acting like a blushing schoolgirl, you reprimand yourself. Coming back and serving her the cake slice, she thanks you, and that delicious accent of hers has you fidgeting as you turn and serve another table.

You try and continue your shift as normal, although her occasional glances at you prove difficult to ignore. Still you manage to keep your composure until one of her lieutenants pipes up.

“Hey lady, can we get the check?” he says loudly, snapping his fingers a little condesendingly, and as you hurry to the table, you see Ashe glare daggers at him.

“Don’t snap your damn fingers at her, she ain’t a fuckin’ dog.” Ashe seethes at him, which causes him to shrink a little and nod.

“Cash or card?” you ask, before Ashe pulls out a wad of cash from her pocket. Counting how much they owe, she places it on the table. You collect it as they stand to leave, but before they do Ashe stands to her full height and steps in front of you.

“Your tip, and an apology for my lackey’s rudeness.” She says, handing you a wad of cash. Your eyes must betray your shock at how much she’s giving you, as you shakily take it and start thanking her profusely.

“Don’t mention it dollface, didn’t catch your name.” You tell her, and she hums and smirks at you. “Pretty name for a pretty girl, guess I’ll be comin’ in here more often.”

With that, she tips her cowboy hat which makes you giggle softly before leaving. You watch as they step outside, mounting their motorbikes. You glance down to check your tip, counting the money in amazement. She’d tipped you 200 dollars, at least that’ll go a long way to paying this weeks rent.

Making good on her statement, two days later the gang are back. This time it’s Ashe and three members of her gang, alongside two omincs. One looked smaller, with a hood and a sniper rifle, but the other was huge, his hulking frame contrasting the cute little bowler hat that lay askew on his head. Even though a waiter was on hand, you almost sprinted to be the one who served them.

“Welcome back to Panorama Diner, table for…five?” you ask as you count them, and Ashe nods. They all seem a little dishelved, a few cuts and scrapes present on the human members which causes you to wonder where they’d been or what trouble they’d caused. You lead them to a table, connecting two so the bigger omnic could fit more comfortably, which seems to please Ashe greatly.

“Wasn’t sure ya’ll accepted omnics, there are a lot of establishments who sure as hell don’t.” Ashe remarks, causing you to shake your head.

“Of course we do, we don’t discriminate.” You say with a smile, before glancing at the bigger omnic. “Love the hat.”

He gives a nod and a little thumbs up, as Ashe continues. “His name’s B.O.B, he ain’t a talker.”

You nod, flipping your notebook out. Two coffees and a milkshake, to which Ashe raises her eyebrow at the dark-skinned woman clutching a laptop to her chest.

“Seriously Frankie?”

“What? You said it was a celebration.”

You smile a little. “So two coffees and a milkshake, got it.”

Leaving them to it, you go to prepare their orders. You can’t deny that you’ve been secretly picturing Ashe coming in again, giving you a small rush now that it’s actually come true. You try and convince yourself it’s just for the possibility of another tip, and not for the way her voice makes you weak at the knees, and her eyes are the most gorgeous you’ve ever seen.

“Here you guys are, anything else just let me know.” You say brightly.

“Thanks doll.”

God you can’t deny how much that nickname is affecting you when it slips from her red lips, as you turn and serve some other tables. You notice a few patrons glancing at the gang as they eat, but you aren’t afraid anymore, and you sure as hell aren’t gonna turn them in, however you try and push away the feeling of guilt at how flippant you’re being regarding a wanted gang of criminals. All because the leader was hot.

Still, you go about your shift easily, growing to like whenever Ashe would unashamedly look at your ass whenever you bent over to pick something up from a table; in fact, a few times you did it on purpose in the hopes the older woman was looking at you. After a while, it was near closing time so you check on them to get any final orders. Upon asking for the check, you hand it to them.

“Cash or card?” you ask.

“Cash” the leader replies, this time opening a bag that was sat beside her. You can’t help but glance inside, and the sheer volume of dollar bills nearly has your eyes watering. That explains why they look so bruised and scraped, you think to yourself, as she counts out the amount and places it on the table. As they get up to leave, Ashe is again the last one as she hands you another wad of cash.

“Your tip.” She says in a matter-of-fact tone.

“Oh…miss I really cant accept that much again- “

“You can, and you will.” She replies, her tone leaving no room for argument as you shyly take the money, electricity spiking up your back as your skin brushes against hers.

“Thank you so so much, I really can’t thank you enough.”

“No need sugar.” She waves her hand dismissively as she grabs her rifle. “Stay safe, these parts ain’t gonna be quiet for too long.”

You nod a little at her warning as she leaves, your heart beating rapidly. She gives you a final look up and down as she leaves, and you release a shaky breath, god you really have to stop getting so worked up about her. Although it’s hard when you glance at the 300 dollar bill tip she just gave you.

However a few days later, things really take a turn for you. Two of your fellow waitresses invite you out to a bar, and you’d been polite enough to say yes despite your reluctance. Once you arrive, they’re both taken with a few men who buy them drinks, leaving you alone at the bar, tapping your finger anxiously on the table. You get a few offers from guys trying to buy you drinks, but you blow them off, your dress suddenly feeling too tight in the warm lights. Thinking about leaving, you move a bit through the bar before you hear raucous laughter from a nearby cards table.

The deadlock gang…they were here. Clearly nobody was brave enough to ask them to leave, or hell they might even own the place…it strikes you just how little you know about them; dangerous considering the leader now knows your name. The same leader who you’ve just locked eyes with, the red hue causing your breath to catch. Hesitating, you turn to leave. Maybe she didn’t recognise you outside of your waitress uniform, as you attempt to walk casually towards the exit.

“You better not be leaving doll, not when I’ve just saw ya.” You hear a smooth southern voice say, and god it’s like the blood rushes to your face immediately. Turning, you see Ashe coming up to you, her lips, tie and eyes all the same colour. Danger.

“Seems my friends have left me, I was just heading out-“

“Awe don’t worry, how about I be your friend, hm?”

It feels like the devil tempting you as you hesitate for a moment, but ultimately you find yourself nodding before you even realise. The smirk on her face makes her look like the wolf whose seduced the lamb into her den, as she leads you into the bar with a hand on the small of your back. Taking you to a smaller table away from the rest of her gang, she looks at you.

“Let me at least buy ya a drink.” She offers, and goes to order what you asked for. Tapping your fingers nervously against your thigh, you glance around as you wait. Her gang are still sat where you’d seen them, laughing and playing cards. You recognise a few of them who’d came into the diner, but quickly look away before they catch you staring.

“There ya go sugar.” Ashe says as she gets back, two glasses in hand. You quickly thank her as she slides into the booth with you, her thigh slightly touching your own. “So y’friends abandoned you?”

Laughing a little, you nod and explain that they’d been whisked away with some patrons who’d caught their eye. The smirk on Ashe’s face gives away her train of thought.

“But not you?” She inquires, eyes glancing around your face as if mapping out every detail.

“I prefer girls.” You say before even thinking about your words, but the older woman smiles all the same.

“Perfect.”

Forcing yourself to not show how flustered you are, she starts to ask questions about your life, your job, your family. As you speak, she seems genuinely interested in what you have to say, something you can’t say you’ve ever had with the dates you’ve been on in the past. Not that this is a date…

“What about you?” You ask softly.

“Me? All ya need to know is that deadlock is my family now.” She says, before grinning. “Well, B.O.B is extra special family.”

“The one with the little hat, right?” You reply, peering over her shoulder to her gang, where the hulking omnic sat with his eyes firmly on the two of you.

“Yeah that’s it, my bodyguard. Not that I need him all the time. Best believe I can handle myself.” She smirks, leaning in to murmur the last bit close to your ear, causing you to giggle a little.

“You’re known for being quite dangerous around these parts, right?”

“Oh you could say that doll. What, you scared?” She teases, before you quickly shake your head. “Good, I like a brave girl.”

Smiling a little at her praise, you aren’t even focused on the fact she’s a gang leader anymore. Like Eve biting the forbidden fruit, you let Ashe place her hand on your knee as you speak, the sinful spark of electricity seemingly travelling from her manicured fingertips all the way up your spine. As you both talk, her fingers tracing small circles on your knee, before slightly rising higher.

After an hour or so, her gang approach, rowdy and clearly intoxicated as they giggle.

“C’mon Ashe, let’s hit up some other places.”

You smile at the cowgirl, thinking it’s the end of the night for you. But she hums, glancing at you for a moment before replying.

“Ya’ll go and have fun, but not too much.”

One of her lieutenants tilts his head, “huh? You ain’t comin’?”

Ashe cuts him a glare that tells him to shut his mouth, before readjusting herself so her arm is around your shoulder. “I’m doin’ just fine here.”

With no room for argument, her gang takes off after Ashe gives a nod to her omnic bodyguard. You on the other hand feel your breathing quicken at the feel of her arm around you, subtly leaning closer to her as you giggle.

“You’re doing just fine here?” You ask, to which she smirks.

“Damn right I am, got a pretty girl hangin’ off my every word. What’s not to like?”

At the reassurance that she does in fact find you pretty, the heat rises within you. Not being able to help glancing at her lips for a moment, the ever perceptive criminal obviously noticing, her breath tickling your cheek as she speaks.

“But just cause I’m doin’ fine here, don’t mean we can’t go somewhere else…maybe away from pryin’ eyes.”

At her announcement, you glance around to notice the other patrons sneaking glances as you. But another thought comes creeping through your mind, the thought of going home with her. Of letting her touch you in the way you’ve been fantasising about ever since she came into the diner. You wouldn’t dream of admitting the nights you spent playing with your clit, imagining the infamous gang leader’s fingers instead. So you nod, knowing you’d give in, and the self-satisfied smile on her face tells you that she knew you’d say yes.

She leads you with by the hand, warm and slightly callous in your own, before coming upon her motorcycle parked outside the bar. Seeing your expression, she giggles softly.

“First time on one of these?” she asks, to which you nod, “Don’t worry sugar, just hold on good and tight f’me, alright?”

And you really do, clinging on to her waist as she speeds down dirt roads, hair wispy in the wind. Try as you might to relax and take in the scenery, you can’t deny the relief you feel when she finally brings the bike to a stop. She takes you once again by the hand and leads you inside, shutting and bolting the door behind you both. Now should be the time to feel at least a little intimidated, but butterflies of excitement uncurl in your stomach as she glances at you.

“Want another drink?” she asks smoothly, to which you shake your head. Drinking really is the last thing on your mind, especially as she stalks closer to you. “Maybe you want somethin’ else…”

Feeling your back against the wall, you nod slightly as she brings her hand up to slowly trace your cheekbone. Her thumb rubs smoothing lines, and at this proximity you can see every line and pore on her beautiful face, every eyelash, how her tongue darts out a little to lick at her lip.

“D’you want me doll? Gotta tell me now or I ain’t touchin’ ya.”

“I want you.” You say, trying to sound confident but melting at her grin.

“Alright, you gotta know though…I’m a woman who likes control, likes to be in charge. You sure you can handle that?”

You’re sure that your cheeks are burning as she says that, nodding quickly again. At your consent, she leans in and kisses you, the tension between you both finally exploding. She presses you further up against the wall, tongue running along your bottom lip before exploring your mouth. Eagerly swallowing your slight whimpers, she uses her free hand to wrap around your hip, keeping you where she wants you. Pulling away, she observes the slight red stain her lipstick as left on your mouth, before kissing along your jaw.

“So sweet sugar, like candy.” She mumbles against your skin, kissing down to your neck and licking. “Gonna let me leave a mark?”

You stutter out a yes, before she sucks a dark hickey into your neck. There really isn’t any going back now, she’s marked you. The leader of the deadlock gang has truly staked her claim on you, and you couldn’t be happier.

Feeling the material of your dress, she slowly inches the fabric up, exposing more and more of your thighs as she kisses to the junction between your neck and shoulder. She lets out a soft moan as she grips your upper thigh, feeling the soft skin under her touch and squeezing. Although she quickly grows tired of waiting, instead slipping between your thighs to grope your clothed pussy instead. At the action, you can’t help but buck forward into her touch, feeling her smile against your skin.

“So wet already, bet you were drippin’ in the bar huh?” she accuses you, knowing she was right. Her fingers cup your panties, feeling the wet material beneath her skin, exploring. With a soft whimper, you let her touch you how she wants, eyelids fluttering closed before she slaps your pussy lightly.

“Nuh uh doll, eyes open.”

When you do as she instructs, she rewards you by slipping into your panties and rubbing your clit in slow rhythmic circles. The result is instantaneous, a quiet needy moan escaping you as you feel her touch. Her eyes never leave your face, head tilted as she watches your reactions.

“Look so pretty, y’know that? Know how pretty you are?” she praises you teasingly, meaning every word but mostly saying them because of how flustered you act when you hear them. Her praise goes straight to your cunt, clit throbbing under her touch as she speeds up her movements.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen sugar. You’re gonna cum on my hand, and all I’m gonna do is play with your clit. If you’re a good girl and do what I say, imma take you into the bedroom and fuck the brains outta ya.”

 Her tone doesn’t leave any room for argument, and you voice your confirmation. She grips your waist, encouraging you to rock into her hand as she keeps up the movement of her fingers, strumming your core expertly. It’s clear to you she’s experienced, and you wonder if this is a normal occurrence for her; to seduce and play with pretty girls who happen to cross her path when she isn’t out being a criminal.

Shakily, you grip on to her waistcoat for stability, feeling yourself get closer and closer the more she touches you. When she releases your waist to grope your tits, that’s when your thighs really start to shake, grip harder on her outfit.

“Yeah baby, that’s right. Cum on my hand, make a mess.” She encourages, her voice igniting that fire inside of you as you finish on her hand with a soft cry. Not slowing down, she gets every last bit of your pleasure before she finally removes her hand, bringing it up to the light to observe your fluids sticking to her digits. “Awe, ya really did make a mess.”

Catching your breath, you blink for a moment as she uses those same fingers to tap at your lower lip, before parting them to clean her fingers for her. Tasting yourself was a little strange, but it was worth it for the way her pupils dilated and her breath caught in her throat at your performance. Without another word, she grabs your upper arm and hauls you into the bedroom.

Getting you on your back, she grabs the zipper of your dress and yanks it down, removing it quickly as she leans to give you another kiss. Moaning softly, you reach to unzip her waist coat, pushing it off her before your hands go to her tie. She grins against your lips and helps you undo it, before he grips your wrists and pins them above your head, mattress squeaking slightly.

“Can you guess what I’m about to do?” she purrs, before wrapping the red tie around your wrists, not tight enough to hurt but just enough to give the illusion of incapacitation. Bound like a present for her, she straddles your waist and looks at her handiwork, before slowly unbuttoning her dress shirt. You buck up a little in excitement, as she reveals her white bra. Removing her fingerless gloves, she tugs your ruined underwear down roughly, exposing your dripping cunt to the dim light of the bedroom.

“So many things I wanna do to you baby, so many things.” She says as she runs her finger along your pussy lips, smirking as you twitch. “Anythin’ completely off limits?”

You tell her and she hums in acknowledgement, before glancing at the wardrobe. She lifts herself off you, hissing at you to stay still as she grabs a box from beneath a few clothes and bullet shell casings. Bringing it over, she smirks as your eyes widen at the sheer number of toys in the box.

“I’m a wealthy woman doll, and I’m a wealthy woman with…needs.” She answers your silent judgement, before leaving the box on the floor next to the bed. “Now if you do well, I promise I’ll fuck ya, how does that sound?”

Before being able to ask what you need to do well at, she unbuttons her trousers and slides them down her legs, removing all of her harnesses and belts with precision. Just in her bra and underwear now, she winks at you before ridding herself of her panties before climbing up your body. Oh. You know what she wants, and you whimper desperately in anticipation.

Grabbing the headboard, she positions herself over your face, thighs on either side. You’re practically salivating, as she moves your bound hands to be resting on your stomach. Without warning, she finally sits on your face, and you get to work immediately. You lap at her pussy, wanting to taste her all night and finally being given the opportunity. She groans softly, the feeling of your warm tongue between her thighs was heavenly. She wanted you like this since she saw you, in that silly waitress dress that was too small for your curves.

Rocking into your tongue, she watches you squirm with glee, moving one hand to hold your hair; keeping you in place as she uses you. Uses your mouth, all for herself. Whimpering, you lick up to her clit before sucking gently, delighting in how a soft moan escapes her throat. She tightens her grip on your hair, pulling to angle you to where exactly she wants. Her pussy was dripping, mixing with your saliva as she makes a mess of your face. Not that you mind, excitedly pleasuring her as best you can.

“Fuck sugar, ain’t you a good girl.” She slurs out, as you move your tongue over her cunt. “Keep it up and I’m, shit, I’m definitely fuckin’ ya.”

You whine in excitement, doubling down on your effort, jaw slightly aching as you please the criminal above you. Feeling herself get close, she grinds faster into your tongue, taking the sensations you’re willingly providing her. She finally cums in your mouth with an uncharacteristically higher pitched moan, her hips slowing until she stills.

You catch your breath rapidly as she climbs off you, leaning into her hand as she wipes your mouth of her wetness. The action causes your chest to feel tight with happiness, before she taps your cheek in a slightly condescending manner.

“Alright then doll, I’m a woman of my word.”

With that, she leans off the bed to rifle through the box, before bringing up a bottle of lube and squeezing a glob onto her fingers. With a nod of confirmation from you, she pushes two fingers slowly inside, feeling how your practically suck her in. She groans quietly, as you make a stranged gasp at the sensation. Removing them, she sinks them inside again before repeating, the wet noises from your cunt echoing off the walls.

“Hear that? Hear how much this pussy wants me?” she taunts, curling them to prod at that spot inside that makes your toes curl.

She sets a slow but firm rhythm, focusing on stretching you out for whats to come as her other hand gentle strokes circles on your thigh. You’re having the time of your life, hands still bound helplessly infront of you as your digits flex. This is exactly what you wanted from her, what you needed from her, and she hadn’t even got to the main event yet.

After a while though, and a third finger being slipped inside, you grow impatient with the growing desire for her to fuck you. So you do your best to voice that desperation, hips twitching and voice pathetically higher pitched than normal.

“You want it baby?” she says, slowing her fingers to a halt before grinning at you. “Say it nicely.”

“Can you please fuck me Ashe?” you ask.

With a nod and a quick spank to your oversensitive pussy, she leans down and grabs the strap on she was keeping which causes your eyes to widen. It’s a black harness, with a purple dildo attached. It wasn’t overly big at around 6 inches, but it certainly seemed thicker than anything you’d taken before. Suddenly glad of her prep, you watch as she moves a pillow beneath your hips, before lubing up the fake cock.

She pushes in slowly, and you both moan at the sight and sensation. God you look gorgeous, she thinks, as her red eyes watch your face contort in pleasure and the slight pain that comes with the stretch. You whimper her name softly, cunt tightening around the dildo as Ashe strokes at your hips soothingly.

“I know, I know sugar. But you can take it, I know you can take it.” She praises, bottoming out inside you. Thighs shaking, you’re grateful for the way she lets you adjust to the size, and after a few moments you offer her a shaky nod.

Smiling, she pulls out slowly and pushes you back in, getting you used to the rhythm of being fucked as the grip on your thighs tightens a little. She clearly has a lot of core strength, able to keep the pace effectively and slightly speed up when she senses you get more comfortable. The slick sounds of your pussy getting fucked by her should make you embarrassed, but the shameless noise only serves to turn you on further.

“That’s it, look at ya. Takin’ my cock so well, such a good little girl.” She grunts out, cowboy hat laying askew on her head as she keeps fucking you. You lift your bound hands to paw at her bra, before she clearly gets the hint and chuckles. Not slowing down at all, she reaches behind herself and practically rips the garment off, exposing her breasts to your gaze. You go to touch them before she grabs your wrists easily, moving them above your head as she moves your thighs up.

This new angle means she can drive the toy impossibly deep inside you, pinning your hands down and making sure you have nowhere to go, nothing to do but take. You moan louder at this, eyes nearly rolling back as you’re sure she’s fucking your brains out. The mating press makes her feel good too, the harness bumping her clit with every thrust, serving the mental image of her fucking you with physical sensation.

“So cute, like my own little doll. Maybe I should keep ya.” She drawls, causing you to whimper more at the insinuation. Hell, in this moment she could threaten to lock you up in her basement and you’d probably blindly agree, needing to feel more of the delicious friction she was providing you. Moving her one hand down, she rubs a little clumsily at your clit, causing your cunt to tighten around the dildo.

You aren’t sure how long she fucks you like that, time an illusion that pales in comparison to the pleasure of being fucked by the gang leader, but eventually you need to cum. So you tell her, beg her, which only fuels her dominate headspace further.

“Yeah keep beggin’ me, that’s right. You know who’s in control right now.” She groans out, slamming her hips against yours. Every muscle in your body tightening, you barely have time to tell her you’re gonna cum until you’re gushing around her fake cock with a drawn out moan. Grinning, she slows down, stroking at your arms.

“Good job, you looked so pretty baby.” She whispers, red nails gently dragging on your skin soothingly. Just when you’re about to thank her though when she pulls out, she grabs under your hips and flips you, landing face first into the mattress with a grunt.

“Ashe-“

“Oh come on darlin’, you didn’t think we’d just stop at one, did you?”

With that, she pushes into you for a second time from behind, your back arching. This time she doesn’t wait for you to adjust before pulling back and thrusting inside. With your loud, overstimulated moans, she grins sadistically and starts to fuck you again, your hands limply in front of your face.

“Oh fuck doll, ain’t you just the prettiest thing.” She gets out through her shaky drawn out breaths, focusing on railing you firmly into next week. Your thighs tremble with every thrust, feeling your g spot get battered by her dildo. You feel a sharp smack as she spanks your ass, and at your reaction she repeats the motion.

Eyes rolling back, your front falls into the sheets as you lose the strength to hold yourself up, moaning incessantly at her rough treatment. She fucks you like she already owns you, like you’re her property, and you love it. The sensations are so much, you find yourself whimpering her name over and over.

But a part of Ashe wants you to call her by her first name, a name she hardly lets anyone call her. But ultimately decides against it, it feels too real, somehow too intimate. Reluctant to break down her walls, she instead channels her mental doubts into fucking you better, harder, with more passion. She holds your hips for stability, pushing your hands down so you can crudely rub yourself while she fucks you.

Soon it all becomes too much, and you feel yourself barrelling towards your next orgasm quickly. Your breathy whines and whimpers let her know, as she moves her hand up your spine before nestling her fingers in your hair. She gives a sharp pull, forcing you into an arch as she coos in your ear.

“Awe baby, you gonna cum again? Gonna let me fuck another one outta ya?”

You nod dumbly, almost drooling as your pussy tightens yet again.

“Good, make some noise for me m’kay?”

Making good on her word, she thrusts into your g spot with conviction, forcing noises to come tumbling out of your throat as you cum for a third time that night, twitching and almost convulsing. This time when she slows, she pulls out for good, unclasping the harness and letting the strap fall to her side as she takes you in her arms. She tosses the cowgirl hat and nestles herself into the pillows, pulling you with her so you’re laying on her chest.

“That okay for you?” she asks, like she hasn’t just given you the railing of a lifetime, but you giggle softly anyway and nod. “Alright good, just checkin’. I’ll run ya a bath in a minute, how does that sound?”

You relax into her embrace, content to let her take care of you as you hum softly in appreciation. Her nails gently drag along your scalp, the soothing gesture threatening to send you to sleep before she can clean you up. You can’t deny how safe you feel, in the arms of someone so dangerous. But she’s showing you such affection, such softness which contradicts the rumours that swirl around her.

“Are you gonna come to the diner more?”

That innocent little question you ask, so full of hope and contentment causes an unfamiliar sensation to rise up in the cowgirl, as she glances down at you.

“You want that? You wanna see me some more?”

At your nod, she swallows thickly. You actually want to see her more, maybe as more than someone to fuck. Someone to…she doesn’t let herself finish that thought, instead smirks teasingly.

“Sure doll, gotta come back to the diner. Gotta make sure nobody else is tippin’ my favourite waitress as much as I am.”

You giggle at that, teasing her back. “Oh? So if someone tipped me higher then you’d match it?”

“I’d go beyond matchin’ it darlin’, might have to start paying your bills as my tip.”

You really laugh at her dramatics, cuddling up to her more and making her cheeks involuntarily flush. With a soft sigh, she allows herself to bask in the moment before slapping your ass gently.

“Come on then dollface, let’s get ya in the bath.”

[honoura]

Shaaloani: The Land of Enchantment Part Two

Hello again! First of all thank you so much for your responses to these posts -- I've really enjoyed reading your reblogs. I'm glad folks are enjoying this!

As I mentioned in the first post -- here is the second half! It's covers the plants and animals I thought worth special distinction. By that I mean animals that communicate how much research was done regarding this zone. So no rroneek, no uxtena. It's pretty clear they are both meant to be buffalo and rattlesnakes.

And if you're somebody who hadn't caught that, um... surprise! That's what they're based on.

If you're somehow getting this post without reading or seeing Part One first, here is a link to Part One. I'd recommend giving it a read first.

With that taken care of, let's pick up where we left off before!

Shaaloani Flora

Aside from the cacti, there are a lot of plants I recognize as native to the regions discussed in Part One! First is this scrubby, short and wide tree. It took a few screenshots and a lot of scrutiny. I was torn for a bit thinking it was a creosote bush, but upon zooming in close I'm of the mind it's a redberry juniper tree instead!

The leaves are long and thing, and the shape gives to mind of juniper needles more. Juniper 'leaves' kind of scale over each other and between texture resolution and my horrible eye sight I can't tell if this does the same. Still! There's a photo below my two screenshots for further emphasis:

These are also the trees turned red near the ceruleum fields -- junipers tend to do that when they are dying. They are also incredibly hardy so typically when you've managed to kill one it's likely not good.

I will say when I was out here I noticed the botanist gathering log has mesquite beans on it -- and you harvest them from these trees! Which is too silly for me; so here's a link to the the wiki about honey mesquite, and a photo of the beans on a tree.

It's probably a reach to try and ID this grass in the Yawtanane Grasslands, but given that it caught my eye I felt inclined to make a pitch. For context child me thought a fun and engaging after school club project was to learn how to identify grass and other plants native to Texas. So when I looked at it I wanted to take a guess based on other regional clues:

To me I think it could be cane bluestem, a grass that's drought tolerant and popular for grazing animals. And its seeds are dispersed from these little fluffy heads like this.

I will say as a caveat that a lot of grass in this area can be dispersed by wind. So it might not be cane bluestem -- hell it's a stretch to even try this. But I like to think they also considered the grass.

The bush above I also hmmed and hrmmed about for a bit before positing if it was meant to be black persimmon. It's commonly called Texas persimmon or Mexican persimmon -- and it's found in Coahuila, Tamaulipas and Neuvo León. They generally just look like big shrubs instead of trees.

I mentioned this in part one, but I'll go ahead and reiterate here a few things:

One is I think Lake Taori's about the only place that reads as specifically Texas

Two is it's not a bayou. That's an East Texas ecosystem and way too wet for Shaaloani

Three is there are cypress trees west of San Antonio growing along the Frio river, and doing quite well! Garner State Park has quite a few of them

I stand by this because these trees are show to be reproducing by making 'knees' -- offshoots from their root system. Think of it like Pando.

I also feel cypress is correct; the trunks are wider at the base than higher up, and the leaves are the right shape. I also appreciate there's Spanish moss hanging from them, which is also pretty common.

The last plant I want to cover is this flowering bush -- I'm going to admit this one was a struggle because I don't know of a lot of bushes with large white flowers like this. I've seen flowers of this shape, but most tend to be ground cover plants that grow very low to the soil.

What I think it might be, which would feel appropriate, is a take on the datura. They can get a bit higher off the ground than most wildflowers. And they were used by several native tribes for cultural practices.

The flowers are bigger in real life than depicted here -- so this is a reach! If someone has a better suggestion I'm open to it.

Shaaloani Fauna

When Fate farming out here, I've seen several players comment like 'huh, there sure are a lot of dinosaurs on this map'. And you're right! Because a lot of this region is home to some incredibly rich fossil formations.

Big Bend National Park contains part of the Javelina Formation -- home to large creatures such as the Quetzalcoatlus, a pterosaur that boasted a 39 foot wingspan. You can read about fossils found in Big Bend here. The Javelina Formation has its own wiki article that details some of the specimens found within it, including the Bravoceratops and the Torosaurus. The Ojo Alamo Formation in New Mexico is home to the Ojoceratops. Just south of these is the Aguja Formation in the Mexican states of Coahuila and Chihuahua. These formations are home to fossils of all three types of scalekin above -- as well as alligators, who are also on this map!

Other Formations in the Southwest home to great fossil finds are:

Kayenta Formation (Colorado & Utah)

Tepetate Formation (Mexico)

Black Peaks Formation (Texas)

There's even a fun sightseeing lore blurb which acknowledges this!

I think this is a fun addition to the zone that strengthens the real world inspiration sources and have fun with world building -- a lot of the formations near the Permian Basin were along the shore or under the waves of the Permian Sea!

And that's all I have! Thank you all for indulging me, and by all means take any and all of this to do with what you will in roleplay. Have fun with it!

[pepperf]

Genuinely can't decide if the writers intended the Five and Lila relationship to be toxic, or if that's just their idea of romance - just like Rochester, Heathcliff, Darcy, and that dude from Twilight, right???

Okay, let's have a readmore. Note tags, ppl, and curate your experience.

Lila has a relatively sensible approach to relationships, which is consistent, despite her somewhat Machiavellian approach to getting what she wants out of them - she put Diego in his place about having realistic expectations back in s3. She's pretty clear about who she is and where her lines are drawn, and is "weirdly self-actualised", according to Klaus. And Five - romantically inexperienced, thinks everyone should do what he says at all times - tries to impose his notion of How This Should Go onto her, from nearly the start of their brief romance, but leaning hard into it once it starts going sour - which also checks out: he was alone for 45 years and his previous relationship was all in his head, giving him full control, so that's what he's used to. But I couldn't tell if they genuinely intended to show it as him being incredibly selfish in prioritising his feelings over her wishes, or if they honestly thought it was romantic. I mean, the barbed wire-style bracelet is a little on the nose, and there's some symbolism that I'll get into in a sec. Truthfully, I'm not inclined to give them the benefit of the doubt - I think SB at least thought it was hot, judging by what he's said about identifying with Five, and about how he finally gets to have a romance. This seems to have been his pet project for the season, blergh.

It's that tedious old misogynist chestnut, that all women secretly want A Man to take control. It's frustrating, because they already established that Lila likes to be in charge, she wants to be free to make her own choices, she'd already had twenty-plus years of being told what to think and do. And yet she has to remind Five, who really ought to know her better by now, "You do not get to decide what I do with my life!" It's also very disconnected from reality. It's not actually fun or sexy to be gaslighted, to be lied to by some insecure asshole who thinks they know better about what's good for you, that they have a right to stick their nose into your personal relationships or keep you away from your kids. Not cool, Five, not cool. He's lucky she didn't kick him in the nuts on the way out. But another reason I think they didn't do this consciously is that Five doesn't seem to realise his assholery - there's no hint that he's regretting anything other than being dumped.

Lila was trapped for seven years in an intense, claustrophobic situation with Five - and if they'd continued to exist, she could have worked through the feelings that come out of that. Like Ritu said, of course there's going to be love there: they've spent seven years together, on the run. If nothing else, it would be a matter of survival - either you find a way to get along, or you kill each other. And they went in with a fair amount in common already (although being adopted by the Handler at age four is not at all the same as being recruited by her at age fifty-something). So I'm annoyed that Lila's whole arc this season is one of frustration about having to be the grown up in her relationship, taking a break to reassess, going off to do something a bit crazy and fun - and promptly getting stranded with someone considerably less emotionally competent.

Okay, I'm being somewhat harsh - Lila unexpectedly getting the timeout she wanted could've been a decent storyline, she could have some time to reflect, live the child-free life without consequences, and have some adventures (she actively enjoys danger!). And she and Five got to bond, that had lots of interesting potential, especially with their complicated history. But it tipped over from being a potential opportunity into an immensely over the top punishment for her impulsivity, and took them so far from where they'd started that there's a total emotional disconnect with the main story. Which is a fucking weird choice for one episode in such a short season, ngl.

And then, ugh, she's right back to dealing with the apocalypse, visibly thrown by a Diego who has unexpectedly thought about what she said and is trying to be a better husband, and dealing with a Five who has decided to get territorial. It's deeply uncomfortable, Five is gearing up to start trouble, so wrapped up in his own hurt feelings that he's functionally useless for the actual problem in front of them - leaving Lila to deal with the mess he creates, and then leverage said feelings to get him to put on his big boy pants and help. She still reaches out to him in the end, I think she knows him well enough by this point to understand what makes him tick...and she's having to be the sensible one up to the end of her existence. Can't she have someone who's willing to meet her halfway? The reflecting that Diego did, him making a start on making amends (given that it was only a few hours for him, that's about as much as they could squeeze in) was basically just wasted. They start to reconnect at the end, and mutually apologise for the damage they've done - but that's all they get, and it's a travesty.

Personally I think the whole storyline should have been cut, but if - if - they really felt it added something, they could have given it some time in the real world, see how this shaky new romance holds up against a serious relationship that's been massively fractured. In a different show, that might have been a fine story. But they don't do that. Whatever she might have wanted, Lila doesn't get time to even think about her choices. She gets to stop existing. (Or they could just have not gone there in the first place, god I hate love triangle plotlines, they do no favours for anyone involved!)

Given a continued existence in which to do so, I'm sure Five would have moved on pretty quickly. It's his first romance with a real person, he feels it intensely - but once the dust settled, he'd see that they were in very different emotional places (she wanted to get back to her family, the break from reality is way overdue to end - and he wanted to stay in their little bubble and leave all that behind). The actual romance part was actually pretty brief, and lacking in any deep communication - as Lila says, it wasn't real. They're playing house in an attempt to feel normal - in a greenhouse (a fragile structure, not a real home), eating strawberries (a treat more than real sustenance), like children...hey, maybe I'm wrong and the writers DID intend to do that, bc that's some choice visual metaphors. And they're playing roles: all their normal antagonism - what made them so fun and sparky in previous seasons, and even during the earlier part of their adventure! - disappears. Lila is a chameleon, taking on a character is her happy place - and this was how Five kept himself going, last time he was in this situation, so he's slipping back into that method of survival (although he's not as good as she is at separating reality from fiction). So while all that is totally understandable, it's insubstantial. If Five had the space to do some self-reflection, or if one of his more rational siblings (Luther maybe, or...um...or a friend, if he can make one...or maybe that dude in the Losers Department at the CIA...) sat down with him and explained that you need to treat a partner as an equal, maybe he could do better next time - or double down and keep being an asshole, that's also a strong possibility.

idk - I still don't honestly think the show intended it that way, unfortunately. I think they shoehorned the characters into the scenes they wanted, regardless of sense or even plot requirement. There are a LOT of badly-explained or badly-thought out moments in this season, and this whole mess just adds to the incoherency. Or maybe it's just a consequence of TV - you get multiple creative people involved, and the reasoning gets muddied, especially over time. Maybe it was SB's intention from the start, but he didn't inform the actors until the final season, so they've been playing it straight.

This show has an...interesting tendency to do something that you think is totally unacceptable and just gloss over it at the time, and then address it next season (like Luther apologising to Viktor), as if the writers all brought it up in their respective therapy sessions during the break, and worked through the issues - so maybe if they'd had another season, they would have gone into all that. Maybe. But we're clearly not going to get that, and they're all gone from existence so I can't headcanon that in this universe, they eventually sort it out. So I'm putting it down to one thing:

Break out the dodgy facial hair (I see you're ahead of me, Five) and let's get kicking babies!

[teenytinyjimin]

baroque (j. jungkook)

summary: masquerade balls are all fun and games until you meet that one person that you feel like you’ve known for a lifetime, but regardless as to who he is, you can’t just let him go.

pairing: jungkook x reader

word count: 2.4k

tags: masquerade, mystery, academia/renaissance/baroque (i know these are all different but its a little combination), ballroom dancing, reader is absolutely in love with this mystery man she’s dancing with, and he’s kinda in love with her too, spoiler: they know each other, kissing of course!

warnings: none

author’s note: IM BACK! IM SO SORRY BUT IM BACK! anyways i hope u guys enjoy! my last kook fic got a lot of traction so thank u so much <3 so i hope this is up to par with that one :)

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

As you stood at the steps to the entrance of one of the largest ballrooms in town, you took a deep sigh. This wasn't a sigh of distress, however, it was more of a sigh of anticipation.

Balls weren't necessarily a thing of the 21st century. Had it been, say, four-hundred or five-hundred years prior, a ball would be the talk of the town and absolutely everyone would be flooding into the ballroom to have the time of their lives dancing with one another. Alas, it was 2024, and the only people you'd see attending a ball nowadays would be people who are actively interested in Renaissance and Baroque culture and seek rare events pertaining to such.

There was something about these classical time periods that felt ageless and beautiful to you. The big gowns, glimmering jewels, and elaborate ballroom designs were absolutely gorgeous. So of course you were going to indulge in as much classical beauty as possible in modern times. And that meant going to balls whenever you could (or, in other words, whenever you were able to hear about them through the grapevine).

So here you were, in your elaborate Renaissance dress, staring at the entrance ahead of you. This particular ball was a masquerade ball, so it was even more exciting considering the fact that most everyone would be anonymously dancing behind beautifully decorated masks. You looked down at your own mask in hand, a beautiful and ornate piece strewn with jewels, glitter, and feathers. You had spent the last week perfecting the mask and had gone through nearly a dozen prototypes before you created what you thought was the best piece of work you had ever done in your twenty-something years of living. It was beautiful, and it would do a perfect job of hiding exactly what needed to be hidden to make this masquerade a true mystery for you.

Fastening the mask over your head and onto your face, you began to ascend the steps and enter the ballroom. As anticipated, the venue was covered in beautiful Renaissance artwork and ornate chandeliers. The marble pillars holding the place together really brought everything to life as they echoed the Roman influence that they possessed into the large room. Ahead of you was a sea of elaborate gowns and tuxedos, all spinning around in harmony as they danced with one another to the beautiful orchestral music that played.

"A glass of champagne, miss?" A voice called out from next to you. You looked over to see a masked waiter with a tray of champagne flutes in his hand. You gave him a polite nod and curtsy as you took a glass from him. Champagne wasn't necessarily your drink of choice, however you needed something to keep you company while you waited for a good opportunity to join the dancing or, alternatively, until you were asked to dance.

As you approached the floor of the ball, navigating through the sea of dancing people, you attempted to find someone you may have recognized. Sure, masquerades made it rather difficult to identify a person and thus it was quite hard to know if you knew anyone anyway, but it was worth a shot for the sake of socializing. For the most part, everyone seemed pretty invested in their partners, committing to the elaborate ballroom dance that was taking place to the sound of a piano and violin.

Within a matter of moments, you suddenly found yourself on the ground as you had accidentally run directly into another individual. You looked up to see a gloved hand reach down to you, begging for your touch so that it could help you to your feet once again. As you obliged, you realized the body to which the hand was connected was much stronger than you had anticipated as you practically flew back to your feet. A little lightheaded from the rush of movement, you swayed for a moment and tried to find your footing, but the hand that previously helped you was now firmly on your waist as a form of support.

You brushed off your dress once you found yourself more stable, a bright red blush creeping to your cheeks. "I'm so sorry-" You began before looking up to the person in front of you. Something about his presence left you fascinated – He was tall with wide shoulders and toned arms, something you could immediately notice through his tight-fitting shirt. Despite being fit to his body, his shirt was beautiful and contained all sorts of frills and jewels. Only one of his hands were gloved, as the other one was covered in bracelets and rings of a particularly ornate design. He had the most beautiful chain necklaces wrapped around his neck which perfectly suited his beautiful jawline, which was both sharp and soft at the same time. His lips, a perfect amount of plump, were curled into a soft smile which made him a lot less intimidating than he seemed. When you finally saw his eyes, you were met with the most beautiful black orbs that were wide with wonder and amazement. You could've sworn that you've seen those eyes somewhere, as they reminded you of all the comfort you had ever felt in your life, but you couldn't quite put them to a face you recognized. Though this man's face was hidden behind a beautiful mask, you could tell that he was breathtaking in every sense of the word.

"Are you okay?" He asked, maintaining eye contact with you. There was no way you were going to escape his gaze, not because he wouldn't let you but also because you didn't want to. You nodded softly as you continued awkwardly brushing off your dress, unsure of how to speak to the man in front of you. The soft smile that was once on his face now grew to a more toothy grin as he took your hand in his and gently pressed your knuckles to his lips. "If you'd like to make it up to me, I'd love to dance with you."

How were you meant to say no to him? Besides the fact that he had quite literally left you speechless, everything about him was absolutely gorgeous and you'd never turn down an offer to dance with someone like him. As you once again responded with a nod, you felt as he used the hand he had wrapped around your waist to guide you further into the crowd of people and to a more open area where you could properly dance. Once there, he pulled you slightly closer to him as he took your hand in his free one. You naturally placed your other hand upon his bicep, which was tense under your touch, and he began to guide you into a waltz-style dance. It felt as if this came naturally to him as you effortlessly swayed around. You continued to stare into his beautiful doe eyes which shimmered with fantasy as they quite literally pierced into your soul. Whoever this man was, he was perfect in every sense of the word. He was just so perfect.

"You look absolutely stunning, by the way. I'm not sure if I mentioned that," He said after a moment, causing you to blush and look away. "I could say the same about you," You responded quietly, letting yourself feel the air around you blow through your hair. "Thank you for helping me up, by the way. This dress is difficult to maneuver in when you're on the ground."

"It's my pleasure. After all, we bumped into each other. I had an obligation. I wasn't going to let a beautiful girl fend for herself on the ground as a bunch of people danced all over her." You looked back over to him and let out a soft giggle, watching as a grin rose to his face. Something about him was just so warm and inviting, yet you couldn't put your finger on what it was. Perhaps you two knew each other in a past life, one in which you were actually attending balls together in the Renaissance.

"I bet you call a lot of girls at these sorts of things beautiful. I mean, look at you." You say in a teasing tone, watching as his grin dropped to a smirk. "Bold of you to assume that I go to these dances very often, miss." He lets out a soft sigh as he continues to effortlessly sway you around, refusing to stop staring at you. "But even if I did, you're the most breathtaking of them all. Honest."

You remove your hand from his as you bring both hands to rest on the back of his neck, attempting to push yourself closer to him so you can talk a little quieter. "You seem like a pro, do you really not go to balls very often?" He shrugs under your touch as he wraps both arms around your waist, holding you tightly. "Not really. This is my first time coming to this place at least. I'm more of a contemporary dancer."

"Ah, I see," You say softly, letting one of your hands feel at the hair on the back of his neck. He lets out a hitched breath at your touch but continues to sway the two of you back and forth. "It's a beautiful venue, though. It feels like we're in the 1700s and not the 2000s." He comments, looking up briefly at the chandelier above the two of you. You couldn't help but agree. Sometimes when you go to events like these you forget about the chaos of life and pretend that you're still in the Renaissance, which is beautiful in and of itself.

"Have you been on the balcony yet? It has a beautiful view of the city if you want to go take a look," You propose, looking back down at the man in your arms. You watch as his eyes soften and a small smile grows on his lips, pulling away so he can offer you his hand. "You lead the way," He says as you take your hand in his and gently pull him away from the crowd.

As soon as you reached the fresh air of the empty balcony, the two of you stood in silence as you admired the shimmering lights of the city in front of you. "Wow..." He muttered, clearly surprised at the sight in front of him. "You can see pretty much everything from here. How is that possible?" You approach the railing of the balcony and lean against it, taking a moment to look around. "The ballroom is on a hill, even though it doesn't really feel like it. It's actually above the rest of the town so the balcony is able to look down on everything around us."

"I hate to say it, but it seems like I might have found something more beautiful than you." Letting out a small gasp, you turn around to face the man behind you, noticing a huge grin on his face. You smile in return. "I guess I don't blame you. A good view beats a pretty face any day."

"Mmm." He hums, approaching you slowly. He secures his hands on your waist as he picks you up with ease and places you on the railing, keeping contact with you at all times to ensure that you don't fall. Once you are steady on the railing he wraps both arms around you and presses himself tightly to you for extra support, and you instinctively wrap your arms around his neck to stay safe. "I'm only joking anyway. I don't think it's possible to be more beautiful than you."

"Well, I think you're living proof of that, because you're definitely more beautiful than me," You mumble as the distance between your faces becomes much shorter than it once was. He lets out a breathy laugh as he removes one of his arms from your waist and attaches his hand to your face, stroking it gently before closing the gap completely and bringing you in for a kiss.

Kissing someone under the stars is one thing, but kissing someone mysteriously under the stars is another thing. You have no idea who this man is, you don't even know his name, yet here you are, lips connected to his. This is perhaps the best kiss you have ever experienced, as he is so soft yet so passionate with his movements. He never once lets go of you with his other hand, keeping you secure on the railing so that you don't accidentally slip. The one on your face is so soft and gentle, holding onto your face in the most perfect way. It is only now that you are able to really breathe in his scent, an obviously expensive cologne that you would kill to drown in at this point. He was consuming every part of you and you wanted him and only him.

The two of you pulled away briefly so that he could stare into your eyes for a moment. "You really are breathtaking," He mumbled, fiddling with the bottom edge of your mask. As he began to slowly pull it off of your face, you watched as his expression went from lovestruck to shocked. It looked as if seeing your face without the mask scared him. He didn't like how you looked.

"I'm sorry-" You begin to say, tears welling up in your eyes. However he stops you as he takes his own mask off, revealing a face that you could never forget. Jeon Jungkook. Your childhood best friend. The boy you had a crush on for years several years ago. He wasn't disgusted by how you looked. He was shocked that it was you.

"Jungkook?" You said breathlessly, unable to say anything beyond his name. He only stared at you in response, unsure of what his own next move would be. This wasn't something you had ever expected. Not the whole 'kissing your childhood best friend' part, but the fact that somehow in an event of anonymity, you would find your way to each other. And now that you have shared this night together, it's almost as if all the feelings you ever felt for him over the years have flooded back to you as you once again felt head-over-heels for him.

Finally, you watched as a toothy smile returned to his face. He placed his hand once again on your cheek and brushed it as you watched him admire your features. "Thank god it's you. I've been waiting for this moment for years," He mumbled before pulling you in again for another kiss.

[rpgchoices]

Very short non spoiler review of Veilguard act 1

I played only to chapter 8, which should be still in act 1, but I am not going to add any spoilers. This is a very generic bulletpoint list of opinions.

GAMEPLAY

Intro is great, art is pretty good too, even the characters

combat is very fun, but I still preferred Inquisition combat

the world is extremely empty. There is one or two talking npc for each faction and that is. Secondary characters do not exist. Quests are all generic (ex. Random nameless character "hey, this person disappeared, can you find them?" with no extra story or explanation)

barely any animals or surprises in the world. The only exploration factor is looking at landscapes and doing some puzzles

there are only three type of puzzles: move object into place to activate door, destroy blight to free door to open, destroy crystal to free door to open. That is it.

choices that matters are identified by the game with a sign, and you will also have a sign that will let you know which dialogue was affected by what

loved the jumping around and the sliding down

you can pet any cat or dog

the world feels empty, empty of lore, empty of characters, empty of animals, quests, people

CHARACTERS

companions are the only characters in the whole game, plus a few associated characters to them

barely any banter and the only banter present is very superficial or more on the funny side

good thing is that if banter is interrupted by a combat it will continue later

my favorite part was seeing characters talk and interact in the lighthouse

do not expect cameo, and if there are cameo they are very short and very generic

companions are very good, very kind, very nice, with little consistency between their characterization and how they behave (ex. Neve is a detective, but she never asks anything or acts differently from other characters or even seem interested in what is going on)

companions seem almost flanderized, with mainly one character trait each

dialogue is sometimes extremely clunky, with "textbook answers" that seem written with AI instead of a writer. It is all "tell, do not show", so it is more likely that a character says "I am shaken" over actually showing how they feel

characters seem to act often like exposition machines, and knows things they definitely should not know

ROOK / PLAYER

amazing character creation options

I played as elf and it has little reactivity, maybe a bit less than Inquisition

the faction has more reactivity, and there are multiple dialogues with your companions about it, mainly little comments that make it feels like Rook has a backstory (much better than inquisition)

Rook facial expressions and movements are a bit strange sometimes, making it seems like he is always smiling and happy even when he should not be

the "purple" dialogue options are a bit meh, definitely not as funny as DA2, and I think "red" might fit more (in my attempt to try and make a more serious Rook)

you cannot really shape Rook's personality

also you cannot disagree with your companions, there is no dialogue choice to disagree or fight with them like in previous games. Most of the dialogue seems to be divided in a few categories: Exposition requests; Flirting; Supportive comment; Joking comment but still supportive.

STORY AND QUESTS

It does not feel like Dragon Age.

The game take theories and secret information from previous games and make it the standard world knowledge

there is no urgency

side quests are forgettable

story is very weirdly paced

each companion has a post-recruitment quest to know them

factions and world seems sanitized. We do not hear about the darker side of the Crows, or about Tevinter's slavery if not in passing

the story is okay but would have benefitted A LOT from hiding the villains and introducing them later. When I say a lot I mean from a 6/10 game to a 8/10 game.

also never thought I would say this, but I miss the Chantry. There is barely any mention of any lore

also only three choices matter - but do they? it felt like everything was a blank state

ROMANCES

By the end of act 1 you can still flirt with everyone.

A lot of flirting options for all characters and if you skip some of them you still get the next ones

I had no romance specific scene yet so it looks like you can flirt with everyone for quite a while before deciding

the flirting is all very PG13 and it is more allusions than actual overt flirting (I mainly flirted with Davrin and Emmrich)

for now I have seen no characters flirting with each other's

I think around chapter 7 and onwards the pacing gets much better, and the writing of the quests a bit more interesting. It honestly felt like a different game in some parts, and I have no idea what happened there. It feels like the game is:

Amazing prologue, probably the best DA prologue yet

First recruitment character and first mission - completely downhill with writing

Pretty slow and weird paced then until chapter 7-8

[fawnnpaws]

what u said about patrick blaming himself for art dropping……………. ur mind. neeeeeeeeeed you 2 elaborate. please. show me to me please

I WILL HAPPILY ELABORATE !! based on this post

i feel like because patrick has known art for so long and loves him so deeply, he feels incredibly protective over him, but he doesn’t know a lot about how dom/sub dynamics work at the start of things. he doesn’t know what sub drop is, so he’s not able to identify what’s happening or the fact that he’s definitely going through his own dom drop. eventually you catch on to what’s happening, but it takes a few times for you to see it.

the first time it happens he holds it together in the moment, but just barely. art doesn’t drop too hard, he just gets very quiet and clingy, needs a lot more reassurance than usual, but even that shook patrick up. he kept thinking about it for the next few days. he couldn’t let it go, he felt like something was wrong, but he couldn’t place the feeling. art doesn’t drop again for a few weeks and the feeling fades, he thinks maybe it was a one off thing, just an off day. until it happens again and it’s worse. this time tears stream down art’s pretty face and patrick thinks he’s going to die. his hands shake as he holds art close to his chest, he fights back his own tears because he thinks he needs to be strong for art. he needs to fix what he broke - because that’s what it comes down to - in that moment when art breaks down and asks if he was good, patrick is struck with the thought that this is all his fault.

his fault, his fault, his fault. he did this to art. he had to have said something wrong, sent him on this downward spiral somehow. he was too hard on him. he’s always been that way, too rough around the edges, too harsh, too brash, too loud, too much and somehow still never enough.

as he looks down at art in his arms, at the way he visibly relaxes when your hands run through his hair and coo in his ear about how good he was, his mind swirls with thoughts that he’s not needed here, he caused this problem, he made art this fragile, art is better off in your loving arms because you always know what to say, what to do. all patrick knows how to do is trample on people’s feelings and fuck things up. his voice shakes no matter how hard he tries to steady it, “why don’t you lay with her?”

he tries to start transferring art into your arms, because holding art for even a second longer feels like he’s taking something that’s not owed to him. like he’s doing more harm than good - he’s keeping art from the comfort he actually needs because he’s so goddamn selfish. but art panics. more tears spill down his cheeks and his eyes go wider than either of you have ever seen them. it’s written all over his face, panic, hurt, self blame. ironically, all the things patrick is feeling. art’s breath picks up and patrick nearly shatters into a million pieces when he asks “you don’t want me? was- was i bad?”

silence hangs in the air and time feels like it stops for a moment. you watch the two of them look at each other, hurting in their own ways, searching for words, a life raft, something, anything to fix what they’ve both convinced themselves they’ve broken. art’s lip wobbles, you can see him spiraling, growing more and more sure as the silence stretches on that patrick is going to say yes, he was a bad dog, he doesn’t want him, all of this was a mistake, he doesn’t love him. meanwhile, patrick’s brain has all but shut down, playing nothing but a constant loop of everything he could have done differently to have prevented himself from making art feel this way, stopped himself from taking so much from art, from being so greedy about his puppy and his girl. it’s then that you jump in, knowing your boys well enough to know this was going nowhere fast without your help. you lean over the two of them and run a hand through each of their hair.

“no one was bad, you both are such good boys. can you take some breaths for me?” they both look to you and nod slowly, so you guide them through a couple deep breaths. you keep a hand on each of them, petting their hair, cupping their faces, grounding them back in the present moment. “good. does that feel a little better? this is just an emotional crash, neither of you did anything wrong, okay?”

they nod again, art sniffles and patrick’s brain comes back online for long enough to pull him close again. art goes easily, clinging to patrick like his life depends on it and burying his face into his chest, muffling his little hiccuped sobs of relief. patrick is holding him, you’re telling him it’s alright, his already fragile mind has no reason not to believe you. patrick worries, but he believes you too. you rub your thumb on patrick’s cheek and give him a soft look that says it really is okay, that you’ll talk about it later. for good measure, you lean over art and give patrick a kiss. he returns it in kind and when you separate, you settle yourself down with art sandwiched between the two of you, pressing a kiss into art’s curls. you know this is something the three of you will need trial and error to get right. for now, though, you could all benefit from some simple cuddles and sleep.