#i try my best but its not enough to feel worthy

[creature-wizard]

How to persuade people more effectively

So my lovely Tumblr people, I think you can agree that we are facing dreadful times and that it would be wonderful if we could get out of them. As we all know, changing anything in society and politics requires changing a lot of of minds, which often feels like a Herculean task. Since I believe in trying to fight smarter rather than harder, here's my list of advice to make this work easier.

Ask yourself if you’re really up to the task.

If you’re really tired or not in a good mood, you might want to pass. If you’re looking at someone who’s really obnoxious and maybe likely to set you off in bad ways, you can pass. If OP has a username that signals an extreme viewpoint like retvrn1488, maga5ever, or wyldwombyn, consider that just blocking them may be your best choice. Also, you’re probably never going to get anywhere with someone who thinks you’re beneath them – if someone obviously holds you in contempt, just don’t bother. You are not required to try and educate or argue with everybody who’s wrong. Pick your battles.

Know your stuff.

I’ve made the mistake of trying to talk about things that I didn’t know nearly as much about as I should have a few times. Even though I wasn’t wrong, I just didn’t have enough information to demonstrate that my positions were justified. Each time I tried this, it basically blew up in my face. Please don’t repeat my mistakes.

Ask yourself: Can you explain and justify your position without repeating a soundbite like “X is a conspiracy theory” or “Y is racist”? Can you show why it’s a conspiracy theory? Can you show how it’s racist? If you can’t, you’re not ready yet. Go level up first!

Stay composed and be charismatic.

I know this is sometimes easier said than done, but coming off as calm and confident does wonders, especially in contrast with someone who just can’t hold it together. It also helps to have a big vocabulary and to be articulate, and to inject an energy into your message that makes people feel empowered and motivated.

Don't talk to people like they've been consciously choosing evil just because they want to.

People don't do that. People believe that what they've been doing is either good, neutral, or necessary to survive. Functionally telling people "you're evil and you know it" signals to most people that you're a bad faith actor. (The ones who will actually agree with you are probably deeply traumatized from abuse and/or suffering from moral OCD.)

Don’t show contempt.

Showing contempt signals that the person you’re arguing with isn’t worth taking seriously. This is can be useful for handling bad faith actors who come and try to make themselves your problem. You know you aren’t going to change their minds, but you can signal to anyone watching that this person is an utter fool, even a laughingstock while signaling to them that they aren't getting anywhere with you.

If you’re trying to actually change somebody’s mind, you do not want to show them that they aren’t worth taking seriously. You want them to feel respected, like you think they’re smart and have ideas and feelings worthy of attention. I know this can be easier said than done! But if you begin with the assumption that the person you’re talking to is capable of learning and probably has some insights, values, and opinions worthy of consideration, you’re going to give off a much better vibe for them.

Don’t attack people personally.

If you’re trying to persuade someone, don’t call them racist, sexist, bigoted, etc. Don’t call them ignorant, stupid, or whatever. This is basically just a form of showing contempt. Again, showing contempt has its uses, but persuading people isn’t one of them.

A lot of people assume that the people they want to persuade think very highly of themselves and if they just cut their ego down to size they’ll become receptive and listen. But most people are just going to see an attack and nope out. Besides that, teaching self-hatred is how capitalism manipulates people into making themselves more profitable and marketable, and it’s also one of the ways white patriarchy manipulates people into taking on its repressive and often oppressive roles. Self-hatred is the weapon of the enemy, we don’t need it.

Don’t play the victim.

Playing the victim isn’t the same as acknowledging that you have been abused or harmed, or acknowledging that you lived a life where everything was stacked against you. Talking about ways you’ve been victimized doesn’t equal playing the victim, contrary to what some bad faith actors out there say.

Playing the victim is about the role you take on in a social interaction, where you position yourself as fragile, put-upon, and vulnerable. It’s the kind of thing a lot of white women do when things don’t go their way. It’s also a habit that’s easy to pick up if you don’t have firm boundaries. People who haven’t realized they can just go, “I don’t want to do this, I don’t want to have this interaction, so I just won’t,” might start traumadumping, or try to shame the other person, or try to make a big guilt trip. “How dare you talk to me this way, you don’t know what I’ve been through! You’re so selfish, you don’t think about anyone but yourself! You’re forcing me to do all this work for you because you’re so entitled!”

I know, people can be really frustrating. Sometimes they can be incredibly upsetting. Sometimes they can send us spiraling into dangerous places. But the thing about playing the victim is that it not only doesn’t persuade people, but it’s also really unhealthy for you. It feeds a narrative that you are always disempowered, even when you’re not. On the Internet, you can usually just choose to not interact if things get overwhelming, and maybe use the block button. It can be harder to get away from people offline, but it’s important to do the best you can.

It’s also useful to recognize when you’re getting defensive and to know what you can do when that happens. Here’s a page that might help you with this.

Don't act like anyone you wouldn't listen to.

When's the last time you've listened to one of those street preachers screaming about everything they think is wrong with society and yelling at people to repent of their sins? Never, right? Don't act like the kind of people you would ignore.

Be a good listener.

Persuading people isn’t just about saying what you want them to hear, it’s also about listening to them so they feel like you’re engaging with them, rather than talking down to them. Plus, listening helps you assess what they actually know and believe, which helps you determine what you need to say to them. Here’s a page to help you improve your listening skills. (And I know stuff like maintaining eye contact and reading body language isn’t always easy or possible for people – just try to do the best you can!)

Validate people where you can.

Validation signals that you understand and care about people’s problems, which makes them more open and trusting. You don’t have to validate bigotry or anything like that, but you can validate how frustrating it is to deal with high grocery prices, politicians who don’t seem to care, and lots of everyday frustrations. This is also how you begin building solidarity, by the way – when people see how we all suffer the same way, they can begin to see that we’re all working toward a common goal.

Use anecdotes.

It would be wonderful if we could just show people scientific data and have them be persuaded by it all the time, but for many people data feels abstract and not really real. (It probably also doesn’t help that most people don’t understand how the data was collected.) However, anecdotes often feel more real to people, and have a lot more persuasion power. (Consider how many “this happened to a friend of a friend” stories get passed around like gospel!) Personal anecdotes are really great – telling someone about your awesome trans friend can do a lot do make them reconsider their prejudices about trans people.

But also, have scientific/scholarly resources.

Some people are going to be sharp enough that anecdotes won’t work on them – and good for them, honestly! Also, scientific and scholarly resources can lend further credence to anecdotes. So try to have them on hand, if you possibly can!

Give people reasons.

People don’t like doing things if they don’t feel like there’s any good reason for it. Also, be aware that different types of reasons will be more or less compelling to different people. Some people will find moral reasons compelling on their own, while some people will respond better to a “how this benefits you personally” reason. Someone might respond better to “we shouldn’t do X because it hurts the environment” than to “we shouldn’t do X because it’s cultural appropriation.” (And of course we want people to understand that cultural appropriation is bad, but that’s going to be a whole other thing you’re going to have to give reasons for!)

Adjust your rhetoric for the person you’re talking to.

Though we all share many common values, we also understand the world through many different lenses use different language to communicate what we see and feel. We also prioritize certain ideals over others.

If I were going to talk about the racism in the Republican party to a strongly Christian person or a New Agey person, I might say that all of this stuff they’re saying about immigrants is meant to stir up fear and divide people, then go on to talk about how the data just doesn’t support this idea that immigrants are as violent as they say.

If I were talking to the kind of person who strongly believes in the ideals of freedom and liberty, I might talk about how anti-queer legislation infringes on people’s freedom to live how they see fit. I might bring up that it violates their constitutional right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

Offer alternatives.

The easiest way to end a bad habit or belief is to replace it with a good (or at least neutral) habit or belief. For example, if you’re trying to persuade people to stop using unsourced white sage (here's information on the problem with this, if you don't know), list alternatives such as rosemary and juniper.

Leave them with additional resources to explore.

Keeping a big list of resources on hand is the secret to activism bliss. Okay, maybe not, but it sure makes things a lot easier! If someone is really curious and engaged, they’ll often be willing to explore resources if you have them. Do try and make sure that not all of your resources are locked behind paywalls or require a deep understanding of specialized language. Curating resources accessible to any means and level of education will help you maximize your ability to persuade and educate.

[jessesluvr]

You are such an amazing writer? where have you been?!?! Your first two works are engraved in my brain I swear I have read them about a million times. I hope you know that! you are so very talented!

Can I please request a Miller Fem reader! (Joel or Tommy daughter, you pick!) x where they (who are already in a relationship) are on a patrol and something happens, maybe too many infected or maybe raiders, and both pass out after the rescue team arrives (maybe reader passed out first and Jesse once the team arrived, I feel like he would try his best to stay awake for protecting reader). When he wakes up reader is still asleep since she was more wounded and he just doesn't leave her bedside and sticks to her like glue on her recovery until she can go back to patrolling and doing things by herself again.

In this situation I do believe he would be so ashamed to look in Joel/Tommy's eyes since he vowed to himself that he'd protect their daughter and he thinks he failed and is no longer worthy being with her. It would be up to Joel/Tommy to go like "Hey son, it's not your fault", and of course reader to reassure him.

It's up to you, always! If that's not something you would like to work on please ignore my request. Also, edit the plot as you please, it is yours. Thank you so much, I wish you a really great week! Keep up with blessing us with your talent! 🤍

holding on | jesse x reader

author's note : okay, you're gonna make me SOB?! thank you so much for your absolute kind words. i've missed writing fanfiction and this brings me immense joy to start writing again knowing you're enjoying what i write ! thank you again for requesting <3 ! late night post before bed, goodnight !!

summary : after a brutal infected attack leaves both you and jesse injured and unconscious, jesse struggles with guilt over failing to protect you, but with support from joel, tommy, and your reassurance, he finds the strength to heal alongside you and move forward together.

word count : 1k

the cold bit deep into your skin as you and jesse moved through the dense forest beyond jackson. the air was heavy, thick with the smell of moss and decay, and your breath came out in little clouds, mingling with the fog that clung to the ground. you’d been on patrol for hours, alert to every sound, every shadow. it was routine for you—training with joel had drilled it into your bones—but today something felt off.

jesse kept close, eyes sharp. you liked having him at your side; he was calm, reliable, always aware. you smiled faintly at him when he glanced your way, that little half-smile that meant, “we got this.” the two of you had been together long enough now that you moved like a single unit, anticipating each other’s steps, silent communication weaving between you.

the forest was eerily quiet as you and jesse moved deeper into the overgrown path. moss hung heavy from the twisted branches above, droplets of water catching the faint morning light. every step felt measured, every breath steady—until the screech shattered the stillness.

it started with one—a lone infected, its ragged clothes soaked with grime, eyes wild and unblinking. before either of you could react, a second appeared, then a third, all emerging from the shadows like ghosts of a nightmare. their growls were guttural and desperate, a sound that set your nerves on fire.

“back to back,” jesse whispered, already raising his rifle. you mirrored him, gripping your own weapon tighter. your pulse hammered in your ears, but your hands stayed steady—years of training taking over.

the infected lunged. you fired twice—one dropped, but more came rushing in. jesse was a heartbeat away, shouting your name as he tackled one to the ground. the scuffle was brutal, teeth snapping inches from his face, claws scraping leather and flesh.

you spun, striking out with your knife, feeling the satisfying thud as it met bone. but the pack was relentless—too many, moving too fast. a sudden flash of movement caught you off guard; one knocked you sideways, and you crashed into a tree trunk. the wind whooshed out of your lungs, and pain flared sharp in your ribs.

jesse was at your side in an instant, fighting off a snarling infected with everything he had. “stay with me!” he barked, dragging you to your feet, but your vision swam and the world tilted.

you felt the cold seep into your skin as you crumpled to the ground, the sound of jesse’s desperate shouts fading around you. the last thing you registered before darkness claimed you was his fierce, unyielding gaze refusing to look away.

“you’re awake,” he said softly, a relieved smile breaking through the exhaustion on his face.

“what happened?” you croaked.

jesse squeezed your hand. “you got hurt pretty bad out there. i—” his voice broke, and he swallowed hard. “i was supposed to protect you.”

you blinked, confusion and tenderness washing over you. “jesse... you didn’t fail.”

he looked away, shame heavy in his gaze. “i promised joel, and tommy... i was supposed to keep you safe. i couldn’t even keep you on your feet.”

outside the tent, joel and tommy’s voices murmured low. you heard tommy say something about jesse needing a break, needing to rest. but jesse refused to leave your side. you reached out and placed a hand on his cheek, forcing him to meet your eyes.

“look at me,” you said quietly. “i’m still here. and so are you. that’s what matters.”

he let out a shaky breath and leaned into your touch. “i don’t deserve you.”

“you do,” you whispered, your voice firm. “we’ll get through this. together.”

joel’s visits were always quiet but meaningful. one evening, after you and jesse had eaten the meager dinner offered in the medical tent, joel sat with the two of you.

“jesse,” joel started, his voice gruff but kind, “i know you feel like you failed. hell, i feel like i failed too—every day. but that’s part of this world. sometimes we get lucky, sometimes we don’t. it ain’t on you.”

jesse looked down, voice barely a whisper. “i promised i’d keep her safe. i broke that promise.”

joel reached over and clapped a firm hand on jesse’s shoulder. “you didn’t break nothin’. you were there, you fought. you stayed. that’s what counts.”

tommy, standing nearby, nodded. “we all have our scars. the important part is what we do with ’em.”

you squeezed jesse’s hand, feeling the weight of their words settle into the room, softening the edges of guilt and fear.

days passed in a slow rhythm of healing and quiet. jesse stayed close, watching you sleep, bringing you water, never leaving your side. he’d learned the hard way how fragile life was, and how quickly things could go wrong. you could see the weight of guilt pressing on him, but you refused to let him carry it alone.

late nights brought the most fragile moments. jesse would lie awake beside you, tracing patterns on your skin, whispering about futures you dared to hope for. sometimes, tears slipped quietly from his eyes, and you’d pull him close.

“you’re not alone,” you told him one night, voice thick with emotion. “we’re a team. i need you as much as you need me.”

his breath hitched, and he kissed the top of your head, holding you like you were the most precious thing in the world. “i swear, i’ll never leave you.”

those promises—spoken and unspoken—became your lifeline. the fear that had threatened to swallow you whole softened in the warmth of jesse’s unwavering love.

when the day came for you to try standing without support, jesse was right there, nerves barely hidden. you leaned on him, both physically and emotionally, and with each shaky step, you reclaimed a little more of yourself.

“look at you,” jesse said, voice full of pride and awe. “you’re incredible.”

you laughed softly, tears of relief slipping down. “i couldn’t have done it without you.”

he smiled, eyes shining. “that’s what partners are for.”

and as you looked out beyond the tent—the wild, dangerous world waiting—you knew that no matter what came next, you’d face it together.

[caffeinatedopossum]

Being an adult and still having to get everything from someone else is so devastating to my self esteem

[darabeatha]

/ A reminder to never expect me to be fully updated on lore and know all the minuscule 9487548957894 details of a character's story and their surroundings, I'm empty as men came to this world and can only vouch for my muses through love (also bc I cannot remember things rip)

[cxnicalcherub]

“is that another one of your porn books?”

the smell of tobacco and old leather wafts into your nose as jason leans over your shoulder, a dark eyebrow cocked as his green eyes look down at the book in your hand. a soft piano melody plays through the aisle of the bookstore you’re in. probably one of the composers he likes to listen to at home, given the way his finger taps against his thigh along with the measure of the song. and though no one else is in the section with you two, you still feel the embarrassment of someone possibly overhearing him.

you playfully smack him with the hardcover, then motion towards the book he has tucked under his arm. “is that another limited edition of wuthering heights?”

he shrugs. “in my defense, emily is the best brontë sister.”

you feign offense with a mock gasp. “i know you did not just diss my girl jane eyre. besides, you’re only saying that because you love hareton.”

“he deserved his own book!”

“i know, baby.”

“he wanted to learn to read for her…”

“i know, baby.”

with a mischievous glint in his forest eyes and the reflexes of cat on adderall, jason snatches your book out of your grip, swatting away at your hands and protests as he flips to a random page and begins to skim through it.

“jay—”

“so what’s this one about?” he asks, completely ignoring your whine. “werewolves? fairies? an adult modern retelling of a classic children’s tale and the pirate is now a mafia boss with a gun fetish?”

“jay, i swear to god—”

“it’s rude to swear.”

“jason—”

and, of course, because jason wouldn’t be jason if he didn’t get on your nerves at least once during an outing together, he decides to hold the book above your head, just out of reach, a low rumbling laugh reverberating in his chest. he lets you try to jump and plead and bargain your way into getting your book back, a shit-eating grin on his face the entire time, and sometimes he even lowers it enough to allow your fingers to graze it before snatching it up again. you quietly curse and pout the entire time, and all he can think about is how he wants to be able to annoy you like this for a long, long time.

he does give the book back eventually. after a worker walks by and smiles in a way that lets jason know he’s being perceived fondly by someone that isn’t you, and he hates the way his skin crawls at it.

when he goes to pay for both of your stacks of books (he always acts so appalled whenever you offer to, and after he embarrassed you in front of a different bookstore clerk by sighing and huffing throughout the entire interaction, you gave up that fight), you’re delighted to see that it was, in fact, a limited edition of wuthering heights tucked under his arm earlier. this, in turn, leads to you teasing him as you two walk out of the store, to which he teases you about the fact that you bought the first three books to a series you haven’t even read just because the covers were pretty.

“i thought we weren’t supposed to judge a book by its cover,” he challenges you.

you easily counter with, “they wouldn’t make the covers so pretty if we weren’t meant to judge them.”

“did you judge me by my cover?”

“i found you cursing like a sailor and bleeding out by a garbage bin behind a walgreens.”

“and that’s a hollywood-worthy love story according to gotham standards.”

the banter between you two continues as you walk into the coffee shop you always pop into after bookstore trips, and both of you put in your orders between smartass quips and razor-sharp comebacks. jason tries to stealthily slide the barista his card while you defend your choice in literature, but you easily swat his hand away and offer your card instead without breaking eye contact.

once your drinks are ready to go, you both venture off to the park with the pretty, giant tree you love to read and sip under.

(“a weeping katsura tree,” jason had informed you when you first took him to the spot months and months ago. “they’re native to japan and china, but they can grow pretty much anywhere they’re planted as long as the soil is well-drained.”

you blinked at him. “how do you know these things?”

“doesn’t everybody?”)

jason watches as you settle yourself against the trunk of the tree, drink in hand while your book sits in your lap, and he can’t help but think that this is what all of the love songs are all about.

they’re about going on monthly bookstore dates with someone that matches him witty comment for witty comment.

they’re about being able to tease you about your taste in books, and you knowing that’s his way of saying, “i know what you like because i see you and i love you”.

they’re about having to compromise about who gets to pay for the books and who gets to pay for the coffee because both of you want to spoil each other and neither of you know how to give up.

they’re about sitting under a weeping katsura tree together, your head on his shoulder while you read your book and he pretends to read his but, really, he’s just watching the way your eyelashes brush against your cheeks.

they’re about the way you always always always kiss him when he gets back from patrol.

they’re about you knowing when he and bruce had another argument by the way his jaw is set and how quiet he gets when you ask him how his night went.

they’re about how you brush your lips over his knuckles and whisper, “i love you no matter what.” before falling asleep tucked under his arm.

“how’s your book, baby?” you ask him.

he has to blink a few times to remember that he’s supposed to be reading, and takes a sip of his iced black americano to give him time to think of a reply. “eh, you know how it goes. they meet in a café and fall in love. there’s probably an estranged rich uncle somewhere in the mix.”

you turn to face him, an incredulous expression on your face, and look at the book on his hands. “all of that happens in, what, the first forty pages of the wasp factory?”

oh, so that’s the book he’s supposed to be reading. he’s pretty sure it’s a horror book too, which makes his fake review of the plot so far even less believable. fuck. he decides to take the conversation off of himself instead of giving you the satisfaction of admitting he was too busy thinking about how sickly in love with you he is to read.

“how’s your werewolf-fairy-pirate-mafia-boss man book going?”

you scoff. “he is not…whatever the hell you just said. he’s a hockey player.”

“and they’re fucking, right?”

you swat the book at him, your lips pursed. “they are not fucking.”

he grins. “but they will fuck.”

you sigh in defeat at the knowing smile on his face and sink back against his shoulder, fully resigned. “they might fuck. i’m not sure yet. she’s pretty adamant about not fucking but he thinks he can win her over.”

he rests his cheek against your head and pulls you a bit closer to him. “he should try offering to teach her how to set trip wire around her apartment just in case someone tries to break in. worked for me.”

“jay, i only let you do that because you came crashing into my apartment at 4 in the afternoon fully ready to murder someone.”

“you didn’t reply to my text.”

“i was taking a nap—”

oh yes, this is exactly what stephen sanchez had in mind while he wrote until i found you.

—

“would you love me if i was the orphan nephew of the man who was in love with your mother, beat into being an uneducated farmworker, and then tried to destroy all of your books because i was insecure about being uneducated?”

“jason, my love, it is 3 in the morning. i am begging you to get some sleep.”

“…is that a no?”

“i think i’m going to haunt emily brontë in the afterlife.”

[rosaeh]

one thing about you, is that you always wait up for jason to come back from patrol.

you usually try to entertain yourself with a book, or a series, but — more often than not — you end up falling asleep on the couch. no matter how many times jason told you not to, you just wouldn't listen — but deep down he really liked that you were so willing to wait for him.

he liked coming home from patrol and finding you asleep on the couch. he'd take off one of his gloves with his teeth, and would let the tip of his fingers linger over your cheek — he didn't want to taint you, he didn't feel worthy of really touching you, not when his hands were covered in blood ; even if only he could see it. but, this string that link him to you can't let him deny this comfort very long. and, soon enough, he allows himself to gently cup your cheek or push a strand of hair away from your face, gently waking you up before carrying you to bed.

there are times, however, when jason doesn't like you waiting up for him. especially the time when he is wounded.

on those nights, he'd try his best not to wake you, making sure to not walk on the wrong slats, making his way to the bathroom as silently as possible.

unfortunately for him, on those nights, you tended to feel something was wrong, and as he'd turn his head to make sure you were still sleeping, he'd be meet with your disapproving gaze at his antics.

silently, you'd lead him to the bathroom. he'd either sit on the counter or on the edge of the tub — either way, you'd be standing between his legs. the first is better to access any big injury, while the latter is convenient to patch his face up.

on those nights, you'd patch him up silently, working diligently on his face as you had taken care of the most of his other injuries. he wouldn't dare let his hands rest on your hips as he usually would, and would settle with gripping the surface he was sitting on. carefully, he'd try to meet your gaze, "you mad at me ?"

you'd pause in your movements, letting out a sigh, "i just don't like seeing you hurt, jay. 's all. but that doesn't mean i want you to hide it from me."

he'd hum, "and i don't like seeing those lines of worry on your face, baby." he'd say as his finger would hover over your face. you'd tilt your head to the side at that, a slight frown on your face — doesn't he know by now that you can't help it ? that no matter what, no matter how skilled he is at this, you'll always worry ?

he'd gently take your hand in his, and guide it to his mouth. he'd kiss your knuckles, and look at you without pulling away from your hand, "'m sorry, sweetheart. i'm not trying to hide things from you. i just don't want to worry you more, after already putting you through the burden of waiting for me. forgive me ?"

how can he believe he's a burden to you ? and how can you not cave when he looks at you like that ? so lovingly, full of longing.

you'd let a soft smile find its way to your lips — he'd be mesmerised by it — and you'd intertwine your fingers with his. "as long as you keep coming home to me, jay, i'll keep waiting. because i want to. i want to make sure you're coming home, that you're alright, that you'll be sleeping by my side. and i want to wait for you, so that if you're hurt, you won't have to go through that alone. so that i can take care of you, too, for once. just like you do with me."

and at your words, it's jason's turn to smile.

he really is grateful for you, even when he feels like he doesn't deserve it.

[solvisun]

self-destruction and self-preservation are not the antithesis of each other, come meet me halfway.

haikyuu ﹙ tsukishima kei x reader ﹚

011125. the fear that comes with loving someone will consume him, you won’t allow that, which makes things even harder.

content warnings. part 1 of 2. angst. emotional repression. heavy miscommunication. fear of abandonment. breakdown. setting isn’t defined, just assume they’re 19 or older.

notes. art cred by azeensart on x. i might not include this in my masterlist for how...heavy these themes are. holy shit. i bawled while writing this (period cramps is getting to me)

the fear that runs through tsukishima kei’s heart will either make or break the relationship you both have. him not being able to be open and vulnerable with you not because he thinks its weak, but because he literally cannot overcome that fear.

he knows dating you requires this neck-deep honesty, knows you'd be the first to genuinely reach him in a place of understanding, and would be there for him no matter the circumstances, would have your eyes look at the deepest parts of him and still love just the kei in him. the only ever one.

but there's this unreasonable pressure and obligation he's set on himself to be...more. more than what he is. more than just kei. so he studies hard, plays volleyball and make you proud, gives you his undivided attention, tries to be more than the fear unkowingly playing a factor in what he's trying to do. to make you think he doesn't have one in the first place.

he doesn't want you to think it keeps him up at night, constantly wondering if he'll ever be enough for you. he's so deprived of reassurance but so repulsed and uncomfortable to ask or talk about it, much less show it to you. he's got his own shit going on, and he thinks he operates best in isolation. the last thing he would want from you is for you to worry about him.

no, don't look at him like that. he's too weak under those soft gazes of yours, you deserve more than the kei he is; the unsure and scared and feels too deeply, but too little to allow expressing himself. you deserve more not because you demand from him, but because your love is all-encompassing and unflinching. you give so effortlessly without a shadow of doubt.

you are love. you are everything he’s not.

he tells himself he’s doing this—telling you about his day on the phone but also leaving the parts that matter; like the struggles or how he thinks about you all throughout and just want to admit himself to you the way you do with him. to tell you he’s not normal and constantly yearns for you and feel a little jealous when you talk about other people with him. to tell you he loves you but he kind of hates himself, that he can’t help but settle for a quiet corner of solitude even though the best thing about his day will always be when you invite him to your place and cuddle. he eradicates what his tongue is burning with fervor, he’s doing this—

not to deceive you, but to convince himself he’s worthy of standing beside you. to shield you of what haunts him, what crawls into his skin that make him want to tear his flesh, like parting a pomegranate with sharp nails and deliberately making a mess, yielding to the bite.

he tells himself that he doesn’t want to hurt you. all his wanting, his yearning, can quell itself. but when he does this, it’s all the more likely of being susceptible to vulnerability. all the more hurtful, to both you and him.

and then he fucked up so bad to the point he’s shaking and white-knuckling and nearly in tears—or rather bursting. he really did turn into a mess, losing himself to the fear that you’d leave him. that you are leaving him.

technically it’s his fault. it was your 9th date, or after that. he stayed a bit in your studio apartment by habit. you always make warm dinners. though he was quiet the entire night and refused to talk when you asked. but again, you’re always trying to unravel him, gently wriggling yourself inside, tiptoe your way into holding him. always, always letting him know you’re there. that you’re somewhere there in him, trying to feel him in the best way possible.

you held his hand and casually massaged his fingers, tracing the lines of his palm and not uttering a word but an easy smile curls around your lips and he’s not—he’s not going to ruin this moment. there’s an aching between his ribs, the intimacy of it all twists his insides in an unpleasant way and he feels so ashamed that he only gives himself half-hearted to you. that your patience is all but a fleeting gift, that you’ll eventually lose this touch once you grow sick of him. sick of his selfishness and insecurities.

you asked after a while, “does this hurt?” referring to his recently bandaged middle and ring finger. you looked at him—shit, he finds himself noticing that generally, he can’t even meet your gaze without feeling like he’ll cry.

you just look so beautiful, he’ll pray to a god for you to have all the good things in the world, he wish he could right now, but not like this—when he’s thinking of how to build more distance, more walls; to put him at his twisted concept of being at ease that this is good, this is what you need.

(he doesn’t understand the horrors you’ve faced to have achieved this absolute grace. the way that you’ve learned how to part a pomegranate carefully, still a tad messy but so much better than the last. he doesn’t understand the extent of how you love.)

“what…?” and he doesn’t understand why you sounded genuinely appalled.

he rephrases, “i just don’t want you to get too attached.”

“no.” you dropped your hand, setting a few feet away from him. the expression you’re making unsettles him, looking so hurt and confused, “you said- you said you don’t want me to depend my happiness on you. what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“i said what i said,” he mutters, looking anywhere but at you.

“no, you didn’t. that’s just your cowardly way of avoiding this conversation,” you snap. “why do you always do this? why can’t you just talk to me?”

his gaze flickers toward you, but he doesn’t respond. his silence feels heavier than any words could have been, a chasm opening between you. (and a pomegranate about to spill itself into chaos)

“do you think i’m that fragile?” you ask, voice trembling, teetering between anger and heartbreak. “that i’m just going to crumble if you let me in?”

“it’s not that,” he says, his tone clipped, defensive. “you just wouldn’t get it.”

“oh, here we go,” you scoff, you flail your arms and roll your eyes. “the classic. ‘you wouldn’t get it.’ you act like you’re the only one who’s ever felt scared or unsure or—”

“shut up,” he snaps, voice low but sharp.

it makes you flinch momentarily, but you sink yourself in, sharper than nails, more like teeth.

“no. i won’t. because you’re not being fair to me, kei. do you even realize what you’re saying right now? you’re acting like—like this is my fault. like i’m asking for too much just by loving you!”

“that’s not what i’m saying!” he shouts, his voice cracking.

“then what are you saying?” you yell back, tears starting to sting your eyes. “because all i hear is you trying to push me away. again.”

“i’m protecting you!” he bursts out, his voice raw, almost desperate. “don’t you get that? i’m doing this for you!”

“bullshit,” you fire back, stepping closer. “you’re doing this for yourself, kei. because you’re too scared to be honest with me. because you think it’s easier to shut me out than to let me see you—really see you.”

he could cry any second, but it’s the knee-jerk reaction that always sets in, the things that never helped him but had come to terms with. and he shouldn’t really be like this, but he doesn’t know how to be anything other than what he is.

he sucks a breath, expression hardening, a wave of something defensive and bitter crossing his face. “maybe you shouldn’t depend on me so much, then,” he says coldly, his words cutting and surpassing nails or teeth. it’s the knife.

your shoulders sag, forgetting to breathe in the worst way possible. “wow,” you whisper, voice trembling. “you really think so little of me, don’t you? you think i can’t handle you, or us, or whatever this is. fine then, if that’s how you feel, then maybe i should stop trying.”

(you instantly regret it. because a part of you remains so selfishly unselfish. you want to bleed and heal for him, to make yourself bare because you know you have nothing in your hands. you’ve got nothing but yourself to give. and this is how you love, and it pains you so fucking much that he’s completely rejecting the only thing you have.)

“…i think you should leave.”

his head jerks slightly, caught off guard. “huh?”

“what do you mean huh?” you tremble against the weight of your words, “go. i need to be alone.”

he stares at you, his mouth opening as if to argue, but nothing comes out. his fingers twitch at his sides, unsure of what to do. “you’re serious,” he says finally, his tone flat but laced with disbelief.

“yeah, kei, i’m serious,” you snap, your eyes glistening. “since you clearly don’t want to talk, and you think pushing me away is somehow doing me a favor, then fine. go. you don’t have to ‘protect’ me anymore.”

his brows knit together, and for a moment, his mask falters. “that’s not what i—”

“don’t,” you cut him off, your voice breaking. “don’t try to explain now. i can’t—” you take a shaky breath, willing yourself to stay composed. “i can’t keep fighting to understand you when you won’t even…fight for me. just how cruel of you to ask me not to depend my happiness on you, when you know you’re all i ever want.”

it’s your voice cracking that sets his jaw unbearably taut, his eyes darting to the floor. he wants to say something, but he feels so fucking useless the words could choke itself.

“you think you’re protecting me,” you continue, your voice softer now, but no less painful. “but all you’re doing is making me feel like i’m not enough for you. like i’m some burden you have to keep at arm’s length.”

“that’s not…”

“then what is it, kei?” you ask, desperate, your eyes searching his. “what are you so afraid of? me? us?”

he looks away, his shoulders tense, his hands curling into fists.

“screw it,” you mutter, turning your back. “just go. please.”

the word please is what makes his heart lurch. it’s not angry or demanding. it’s pleading, broken. and it terrifies him.

“wait,” he says, his voice almost a whisper.

you don’t turn around.

“don’t do this,” he says, more firmly now, but there’s a tremor in his voice. “don’t… don’t ask me to leave.”

“why not?” you ask bitterly, “you’ve been keeping me at a distance this whole time anyway. what’s the difference?”

you don’t look back when he says, after another long pause, “…if that’s what you want.”

your heart sinks as you finally watch him turn toward the door. he hesitates, his hand resting on the doorknob, he can’t stop the shaking of it and his fingers feel so cold and the warmth he’s craving now is just pathetic. he waits for you. for you to stop him. for you to reach him like you never fail to do.

but you don’t.

and then he’s gone, the door closing behind him with a quiet click, your ears start ringing and your head has fucked you enough that you want to scream. it feels too painful to stuff it in. you kneel to the floor with your head in your hands, the weight of the argument crashing down on you.

outside, kei leans against the wall, his chest heaving as he stares blankly ahead, the overwhelming urge to go back and fix everything warring with the fear that it’s already too late.

are you going to leave him?

are you going to leave him?

you’re going to leave him.

he can’t figure out how to unfuck all the mess. and he shivers with so much dread, he doesn’t realize he’s weeping under a streetlamp and barely holding himself. he doesn’t even know how to cry properly, but it doesn’t fucking matter anymore because he’s convinced—he’s fucking trying to already swallow the inevitability of you and him falling apart. he deserves this.

the fear that runs through tsukishima kei’s heart can ultimately break yourselves apart. and it does. it’s sort of a heart disease not even death can console the pain.

taglist. @leafington @angeleilee @yoru-exe here you go, angst is good for the soul ,,,,

SOLVISUN 2025. all rights reserved, do not repost/alter.

[toorumlk]

the importance of art and safety.

(in this period of descent into fascism)

If you're a liberal/left-leaning person like me, you have been voraciously keeping up with local, provincial/state and federal politics, and with the world news, using all avenues available to you to try and make sense of the tumultuous time were living through. And thus, with each passing day, you've probably been inundated with the F-word more and more from the news/political commentators you follow, from the images attached in the articles you read, and the academics and journalists you trust. Fascism. With the recent ruling from the UK Supreme Court saying that the legal definition of a woman is solely going to be rooted in biology and seeing the jubilant celebration surrounding it, I can’t help but feel like we just took one more monumental step in the global death march towards fascism.

I’m scared and very worried.

Of course, this isn’t really about my own personal feelings of fear because overall, I will be quite alright. I’m a bisexual, leftist woman and arts and culture person living in Canada, in a dependably liberal-to-progressive riding and city. Yes, my country has a federal election coming up and there is a chance we might (strong emphasis on ‘might’) elect a right-wing reactionary buffoon of our own in the form of Pierre Poilievre, but center and left-of-center Canadians were given a hail Mary in the new liberal party leader Mark Carney, who’s performing better in the early polls everyday. So, we might not have to worry that much at all. Yes, the cost of living is still abysmal (as my friends and I keep saying: girl, the tariffs), and going through life’s very human struggles is still excruciating but ultimately, bearable. Spring, the best season, is well on its way and the days are getting longer and you see that your neighbour’s tulip bulbs are peaking out from the soil and you’re able to go home and give your cat a big kiss on the cheek as they reward you with an annoyed and disgruntled meow.

And so you feel emotionally regulated enough to then go on your daily news binge and find that another university student in the US got black-bagged for expressing pro-Palestine views, you see images of the destruction of Gaza and the concentration prison/camps in El Salvador, and then that the boomer British lady who authored the books that have been bringing so much joy and fulfillment to your art practice donated 70 000 euros to a feminist organization that was the plaintiff fighting to disenfranchise an already marginalized minority group. And you’re left feeling quite… dirty and doom-ridden and powerless while standing in the middle of the cushy imperial core.

Your cat who was annoyed you picked them up earlier has forgiven you now, though, and is headbutting you for some catnip.

But this isn’t about me, not in the slightest. I/we know how these things go. I’m not a history buff by any means (though I really want to be) but I have a basic enough understanding of world history to know we’re already in the throes of fascism: with the targeting and scapegoating of vulnerable minorities like the trans community or the complete hatred and want for disposal of migrants – I feel a deep and suffocating grief for my fellow comrades.

This pain, I believe, is all our duties as human beings with the gift and responsibility of empathy, to feel.

I’m also hyperaware that with the downward fall into fascism comes the defunding and eventual erasure and censorship of art. Now I’m not saying my art is worthy or important enough to be censored. But I am saying we need art; we need as much of it as there can be for our emotional needs which is imperative for our survival. I don’t mean to say this in a hyperproduction/hyper consuming way, of course, we just need human artists, humane art (whatever that means to you) now more than ever.

I’m a political person, and my leftist and feminist principles and values I think show up quite plainly in my work but again, I don’t think I’m making anything radical here – my art I think is just one small piece in a greater human need to make and experience art. Therefore, I’d be remiss to say it wasn’t important. I know my work is important in that I know it means something to people. This community here for instance, or on twitter/x, Instagram or tiktok, which I feel like the luckiest person alive to have somehow conjured, that means something to me, and I’d be glaringly obtuse if I didn’t acknowledge it. So, I sincerely want you to know my art exists not only as the physical manifestation of this vocation of mine, but also as a source of safety and comfort for your senses, if you need it to be.

As much as I want to be, I’m not an activist, I’m just an artist. And my art is the one (I hope) iron-clad thing I can give to the world and the beautiful, worthy of lives of dignity, people within it. Joy and comfort aren’t a solid political program on its own and I know art consumption alone is not going to lead us to liberation, self-determination and lives of dignity. But, my god, do we still need joy, comfort and safety in the form of art to get through each day.

To my nonbinary and trans friends and siblings, I am so, so fucking sorry powers greater than us are using you as pawns for political theatre, and that so many restless people are using you as political punching bags. The world we’re living through is incredibly unfair and unjust at the moment. Your pain is our pain, none of us are free until all of us are free. So, I want you to know that my little pictures and I are here, fighting alongside you.

I know Harry Potter, the IP and the storyworld with its characters, isn’t what’s causing our dissent into fascism. And I know, realistically, I’m not the devil’s spawn for still liking it, for making cute artwork of the titular main character’s best friends for its fandom. I can’t explain in words why I feel such an affinity to this story, this very entry-level story about fighting fascism, with its anti-social megalomaniac villain and its painfully liberal/reformist politics. My pull towards it is deep, abstract, and almost spiritual, and if I could succinctly put these feelings and magnetism into words, I probably wouldn’t be making this much art like my life depended on it. And the awful truth of it is, I’ve never been more artistically fulfilled. I’m so happy while making this work and my cup becomes fuller after each drawing, I selfishly don’t want to stop. Does that make me awful?

A lot of my peers, fellow fanartists, have been considering leaving the fandom altogether and it’s left me feeling a kind of panic because, quite frankly, I don’t want to. Not until the creative reserve (which is rooted in my love and other abstract feelings for the story) within me has run dry, which it hasn’t. And after I realized this, I felt a little ashamed that I wasn’t feeling what others are also feeling, but I think the knee-jerk reaction to leave and disavow this community because of the cartoonishly mean-spirited author (who ironically made this story about love, friendship and fighting fascism) also feels hasty and reactionary. I understand the impulse, I really do. I recognize I have a vested interest in saying this, but I sincerely think we need art now more than ever, if any of my peers are reading this: your art. Thoughtful art, art that is an exercise in empathy. I’m also saying this because I feel a deep sense of responsibility to my friends (majority of whom are also queer and trans) I’ve made through our shared love of this story, to fellow fans and the people I’ve been privileged enough to have touched with my art.

This discomfort of still harboring love for this flawed but ultimately lovable and beloved story during this time of political unrest and chaos, and continuing to express my love for it by creating artwork for it… is something I will just have to live with until it’s run its course. I don’t think this is a righteous grief by any means – I think the mundanity of it is what’s making it especially annoying.

Quivering in the face of good art is I think one of the best feelings in the world, and though I sincerely believe the HP story to be good and adequate in its political and class commentary, this squirming isn’t exactly that. I’m immensely (and selfishly) resentful to JKR for being the mean-spirited bully/troll that she is, not only do I wish she weren’t a right-wing reactionary, I wish her tomfoolery didn’t make me squirm uncomfortably (the word I’m looking for here is ‘cringe’) while still genuinely enjoying this work. Nonetheless, I’m confident in my ability to engage with this story intelligently and I hope to continue to share my thoughts and love for this narrative through posts and meta/cultural analyses and many, many drawings of Ron and Hermione kissing. I am also steadfast in my political convictions, which are so much older than the just-over-a-year-old love I have for these books. My political convictions which have always been and will always continue to be pro-trans, feminist, anticapitalist and grounded in my love and empathy for people.

I don’t have all the answers to how and why we are so drawn to certain stories and characters and tribes (because fandom in a fundamental way acts like a tribe), and why we so profoundly need to keep making and keep experiencing art. Or how to even best live with the contradictions that exist within and outside of us. I’m just a young artist, still in the infancy of my career in many ways, but something in my bones is telling me this is important work, and I should keep doing it – with all its squirming discomfort, and its wonderful, beautiful fulfillment.

Again, we are living through incredibly difficult times, but we must make it through, and we will. I will keep making work that I hope is thoughtful and politically principled, and I hope you’re able to find some joy and comfort in them as I do while making them.

- nus :)

[ateliersss]

Bandaids and Kisses

Pairing: Yautja x Fem!Reader Summary: One part of motherhood seemed to be patching up your reckless pup after another adventure in the wild against his parents’ wishes. Cross-posted on AO3: here Warnings: English isn't my first language Word Count: 2.885 Before the Blooming Family series

⇨ Hello, you Yautja lovers. With this, we are going back in time, before the happenings of the "Blooming Family" series. I hope you enjoy it! Comments are always appreciated!

⇨ You want to know something hilarious? A Yautja in their early twenties is the equivalent of a human in its 50's/60's, so Akail as a ten-year-old Yautja would be a minus something human baby.

"Oh my God, Akail! Again?"

You were taken to Yautja Prime about fifty years ago, Life-mated to Mi'ytiar for forty years, and an accepted and established member of his clan for ten years now. Ten years, the same amount of time your son had walked, talked, and breathed. Ruling alongside your mate and hunting for food weren't enough to make your contribution. Giving Mi'ytiar a pup had apparently been the only thing that changed your role among them — from an outsider (and even a simple plaything for their leader to some) to what you were now — the female counterpart of a clan leader, the Matriarch.

You had heard of several Matriarchs on Yautja Prime. Like you, they were mated to the clan leader, but unlike you, they were the superior one in their dynamic and even above an Elder or Ancient. You wouldn't dare to assume the same form of authority for yourself and therefore kept to the secondary leading role just as a queen consort on Earth would. You had much more freedom and control than you could ask for, utterly content in the position you were holding right now, and you never felt the need to claim the power of a true Matriarch. The fact that the Females of the Yautja race were viewed much higher in leading roles than the Males was satisfying enough.

Nonetheless, you still had particular obligations and a certain appearance to maintain. You would take part in organizing the journey of the Un-Blooded to become Blooded, ensure the civilized coexistence within the clan by taking on the role of a judge like in court on Earth, approve of every newborn pup that was presented to you and deem them worthy, listen to their requests and suggestions and try to contribute as best as you could, and even had become a beacon of generosity and kindness to the clan for advice and consolation. The list went on and on, but instead of feeling crushed by the vast amount of responsibility, you relished in it. It was an honor, indeed.

Another thing that was expected of you was joining the elder Females in their den and listening to their wisdom with other younger Females. Rather than a bothersome duty you had to force yourself to attend, you absolutely loved their company.

And the den was a beautiful place you loved to spend your time in, a flawless merge between ancient architecture and the futuristic Yautja influence, round in shape and with a high dome-ish roof that was held together by a construct of pillars and beams into which hieroglyphs were carved. Fire was burning in the hollow beams and illuminated the room above the heads of everyone present.

A week of adjusting to your new life had gone by without leaving Mi'ytiar's home — your home the second you had crossed the threshold — before he decided it was time to introduce you to his people. And the place he had brought you to first was the den of the Elders. It had been a tough start, but they were surprisingly objective. Instead of seeing you for what you were, they saw you for who you were. Even if you were among giants, you had felt welcomed.

On this day and decades later, you had joined them as well, taking your place at the fire pit and opposite the entrance on the only chair in the round room. The Matriarch had her very own seat in the den, a throne-like construction made of something that felt like a mix of stone and metal. Meanwhile, the other Females sat on white stepstones on the mossy ground around the pit.

Matheih, the Female that held the unofficially highest rank among the Elders and had been the first you felt comfortable with, was just about to discuss the matter of a Bad Blood who had come too close to the clan's borders when you noticed movement from the corner of your eye. You snapped your head to the entrance and gasped.

Your shocked exclamation had cut Matheih off, causing her to startle. The rest of the Elders either looked at you or your son, who seemed to shrink under the intense eyes of the Females.

You immediately rose from your seat, the others following you swiftly, and you raced around them to Akail, who anxiously fiddled with the charm attached to his loin cloth.

One day, you had noticed the longing gaze of your pup fixed to his father's loin cloth and the trinkets and trophies swinging on his hips. Without further ado, you tailored him something new and decorated it with a thread on which various square stones and animal teeth were strung, the thread sewn into the front of the self-made cloth to the right hip. His eyes had been so bright when you presented it to him.

"Akail, my little warrior." You sighed when you reached your son, kneeling in front of him to be on the same level as him.

You cupped his cheeks and examined his face. There were several cuts across his face — two on his forehead, one under his right eye, and one above his left eye — and fluorescent green blood was smeared around his wounds and coated his mandibles. When you checked his dreads, running your fingers through the short tendrils, he winced.

"My sweetling, what happened?" You asked when you grabbed his hands and scanned his arms up and down.

"I follow a tochi." He mumbled and instantly avoided your stern glare.

A lie.

Placing your pointer and middle finger under his chin, you tilted his head up so he was looking into your eyes again.

"Were you near the borders again?" You pressed on and raised an eyebrow.

Akail pulled a grimace. "Yeah."

Another lie.

"How many times do I have to tell you that it's dangerous?"

Akail looked down like a kicked puppy. "Sorry, Mama."

No. No, you were not allowed to melt right now. You needed to be strong and determined to be angry at him for disobeying one of your and his father's rules. You needed him to understand that running after an animal for the nth time and moving too far away from the clan's land was risky without someone by his side.

But those damn puppy eyes of his, the same look his father sometimes used on you, they made you weak and yielding.

"Come on." You softly smiled at him and stretched out a hand to him.

When you stood upright again, Akail wasted no time to grab your hand while his other arm wrapped around your leg, clinging to you. You turned to the Females, excused yourself, and apologized to Matheih for interrupting her before you and Akail left the den.

Hand in hand, you walked the short route to your home.

"Does it hurt, my sweetling?" You asked him when you entered the grounds of your home.

You whistled at Be'jaa who had started barking at the intruders, as well as the two other Hell Hounds Mi'ytiar owned, Vohtu and Gihn'tha, and signaled them that it was just you and to stand down.

"Not anymore, Mama." Akail vehemently shook his head, putting on a brave face.

You smiled down at him and led him inside, lifted him into your arms, and carried him to the long table that stood in the center of the main room of your home. Behind it and opposite the entrance door, three other doors lead deeper into your home to adjoining rooms like your bedroom. Just like the den of the elders, this room was round with a dome roof made out of orange and light grey glass, but there was at least a meter of additional ceiling going sideways from where the dome ended and from which a ring of rock was hanging down, like a huge ring-shaped lamp circling the whole room.

Just like a routine, you placed him down on the surface, kissed the little space between his nonexistent eyebrows, immediately eliciting a merry purr from him, and got the Medicomp that was stored in one of the box-drawers under the long shelves where your mate displayed his trophies.

You placed the Medicomp next to Akail on the table, sat down, and quickly got to work crushing the plaster and melting it with the burner, adding the blue solvent and mixing it until you got a gel.

"You know the drill, baby. It's going to hurt." You warned him, taking one of his hands into your free one before you started applying the gel to the thin cuts on his face.

Immediately, Akail let out a sharp hiss and squeezed your hand as hard as he could. But he remained still, not wanting to ruin your already careful treatment. His eyes danced across your face, admired the color of your eyes that was so different from his, studied your smooth skin that wasn't as rough or beige and green as his, scanned your mouth that wasn't hidden behind tusks.

He opened his mouth, but you cut him off before he could even utter the first syllable of his question.

"Be honest with me, Akail. What happened? You don't just get wounds like that because you followed a tochi." You questioned him and placed the spatula to the side before you grabbed the cloth that you had added to the Medicomp and dabbed the blood away from his already healing cuts and his mandibles.

"Stumbled over a stone." He answered in a huff.

Another lie.

"I roll down a slope in a bush."

Lie, lie, lie.

You hummed. "The bad ones near the Stonehenge? I told you to stay away from there. Those statues are unstable and you aren't yet strong enough to withstand their weight should one fall down on you."

"Sorry, Mama." Akail muttered and pulled his head in as if it would help him to escape the shame your words caused him.

You were melting once again at the sincerity in his words and reassurance washed over you. You may have had no idea how to raise a child as you never had the opportunity of doing it before, but you must be doing something right when he was capable of realizing his mistakes and showing remorse. But it wasn't the kind of remorse you were thinking of.

"It's alright, my sweetling. And you did so well in keeping still for me. You were very brave." You cooed and kissed first the healing cuts on his forehead before you turned to the ones at his eyes.

But he wasn't. If he was as brave as you claimed, he would tell you that it wasn't the thorns of the bushes overgrowing the Stonehenge but the still-developing claws of the older Younglings making fun of you that had caused the wounds. Akail had tried very, very hard to ignore their teasing and provoking snides, but when one of them — the tallest of all people — started talking about how glad he was that his mother was a respectable Female of the tribe and not some foreign, lowly pet that warmed the nest of the clan leader and probably pleased any other Male on the side, little Akail saw only red.

He had jumped the older Youngling and bit down on his neck while his claws inflicted as much damage as they were capable of. But due to his smaller size and frail strength, this advantage was turned against him in the next second when he felt his face being scratched open and his back colliding with the ground when he was pushed off by the older boy.

Luckily, before the situation could escalate even more, two Blooded Yautja neared the small group and Akail used the opportunity to quickly stand up and hurry to the den of the Elders where he knew his mother was.

It hadn't been the first time and it will probably not be the last time, but he had promised himself to always protect you from anything that could crush your beautiful heart and kind soul that had shown him unconditional love from the moment he had opened his eyes to take his first-ever look at his mother. It had been blurry and unfocused, but he remembered your smile. That smile.

"Mama?" Akail asked as he watched you packing up the Medicomp.

"Mhm?" You hummed and lowered yourself onto one of the chairs around the table right in front of him.

Instantly, Akail reached for your shiny hair and started fiddling with it, feeling how soft and silky it was. When he was a toddler, he would often play with it while purring, not being able to speak yet but his sweet chatter combined with his wide eyes was enough for you to be reminded how much he was his father's son. Both were enamored, maybe even slightly obsessed with your human features.

Akail huffed. "Why you not look like me?"

"Hm?" You raised your eyebrows in surprise at the topic of his sudden question.

"Why you look like this? Why not like me or Papa?" He pushed further and curled a lock of your hair around his pointer finger.

"My sweetling." You cooed, lifted him up by his waist, and settled him down on your lap, his legs dangling from each side of your thighs. He wrapped his arms around you and nuzzled his face into your chest, close to your throat. "Do you remember the bedtime stories I sometimes tell you?"

You only felt vibrations against your skin and you took that as an answer, a cue to continue, "When I was little like you, your grandmama sat next to my bed and told me the same ones."

Akail pulled his face from your chest and lifted his head to look up at you. "Grandmama?"

I nod. "Yeah. Mama's mama." You cupped his little face and peppered it with kisses. "Those stories are from the place I was born. Earth."

"Are there more looking like you?"

"Yes. Many like me. Earth is similar to home. There are villages all over the planet and they speak different tongues, too. They have a clan leader called a major or a president and they have warriors, but also normal people who work jobs or go to school."

"What is job?" Akail asked curiously and cocked his head to the side.

"A job is something oomans do to earn a living, to build a life. It is a little different here. For example, with a job, you can earn money and buy food, but here, you just go into the forest and hunt. With a job, you can also build a house, but here, you just do it yourself with the resources this planet has to offer." You explained with a soft smile.

"What a ooman?"

"It's what I am, my little warrior. Mama is ooman, a human. That's why I look so different than you or your Papa."

"But why I don't look more like you?" Akail asked and his adorable face became even more precious when he pulled it into a frown.

You hummed as if you were in thought before you put on a bright grin and started to tickle his sides. "Because I wanted someone unique and extraordinary, and I hoped for someone who is as handsome and strong and chivalrous as your Papa. And speaking of your Papa, he was determined to have a pup like you, my sweetling."

Mi'ytiar had been very determined indeed that his DNA took root inside you. It also hadn't been the only thing that had completely dominated you.

"I know I'm not as big and strong and pretty as the other mothers-"

"You more pretty!"

"What?" You asked with raised eyebrows at his offended tone.

"You more pretty! More pretty than other mothers, more pretty than other Females! Say you more pretty!" Akail protested, immediately standing up for you even against your own words.

You had to swallow your emotions during his short rant. This boy had your heart, so precious and pure, and your emotional intelligence, already developed so far for his young age. You had no idea you were able to create something so beautiful and unique.

"I'm more pretty." You repeated his words with a smile, petting the top of his head, and kissed his forehead one, two, three times. "Why don't you go and look for Papa, hm? I bet he loves to teach you a little something about leadership."

Akail climbed down from your lap with a click of his mandibles and was already running out of your home. You had followed him, a little slower than the hazardous speed of his, and leaned with your shoulder against the entrance as you watched him in amusement.

You had hated the thought of becoming a mother. You had hated the thought of how children would affect your health and body. You had hated the thought of giving up your freedom for them. You had hated the thought of limiting your own life to adapt to theirs. You had hated the thought of abandoning every hope you had felt, every plan you had made, and every dream you had envisioned to tend to each of their needs.

God, never had you been happier to be wrong.

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[yandere-sins]

Bathhouse Service

[My Commission Info] | [My Ao3] | [Ko-Fi]

a/n: Here we gooo, the first commission of this year for a super sweet anon ♥

Characters: Phainon (HSR) x Male!Reader Warnings: Yandere, Sexual Content (Non-Con/Dub-Con, Pec job, Anal, Fingering, Hand job, Musk Kink), Domination, Obsessiveness, Stalking, Abuse of Power, Long Post Words: 6647

Taking a deep breath, you waded through the bathwater, happy to finally put down your golden tray for the day.

You'd been working hard, serving food and drinks to the guests of the bathhouse, constantly forcing a smile on your face even though it was hard to stand in the water, people sloshing it against your body and soaking your clothes. This job wouldn't have been your first pick if you had a choice. Being out in public and in constant contact with people was nerve-wracking on the good days, and the feeling of being constantly exposed by the bare minimum of coverage your clothes provided only added to your discomfort. 

Something more private, away from the prying eyes, would have been nice. But being a bathhouse attendant was what paid the bills. Rolling your shoulder, you breathed into the tension that had built all over your body. Ironic since the baths were the most relaxing place in all of Okhema, but all they did was add stress to your nervous system. It wasn't easy not being as socially adapt as the other attendants and more introverted when having to talk and attend to countless people every day, their prying eyes prickling like needles on your skin, and their hands were sometimes a bit too adventurous to be well-mannered. But you kept telling yourself you were merely too shy for your own good, misinterpreting everyone's intentions. 

After all, you also felt like you were being watched when there was no one around you at all.

Turning around, you looked over at the few people still lingering in the baths. It was almost closing time. Finally, you thought, your shift having taken its toll, and you desperately needed a good night's sleep. Tomorrow would be your day off work, and it was exactly what you needed to recoup and gather your strength to survive the following shifts ahead of you. Especially the busy rush hours after people finished their work were exhausting, the crowded baths being treacherous to navigate and the demands of people even harder to fulfill. You didn't have the gift of being born exceptionally tall and strong like your peers, so you often found yourself in trouble with the guests who looked down on you. Everything about you was average enough to escape trouble, but trouble seemed to try and find you wherever you went. Not everything about the job was terrible, but you were reminded every day why it simply wasn't suitable for you. 

"Hey!" someone called out, and you jerked out of your daydreams where you imagined having a nice dinner before slipping into your warm bed, already waiting for you.

"Y-Yes?" you stammered, turning towards the voice, expecting a visitor trying to get your attention. However, instead, the face was familiar, the big smile curling your boss's mouth making you dread the interaction even more. You two had very different opinions on what made you happy, and seeing him excited, almost skipping steps to get to you faster, wasn't a good sign for you at all. 

"I need you to go upstairs to the upper baths and serve some food and drinks before you leave for today. Can you do that?"

"What, me?" you asked, flabbergasted. Usually, there were special attendants for these baths. People who underwent specific training and had to sign confidentiality contracts. It was for the good of all the people to pick the very best attendants for the Chrysos Heirs, and you weren't one of them. "That's… Isn't there someone better suited for this task? I- I mean, going there is such a big honor. I'm not sure if I am worthy of it…"

"You're too modest! You're doing a great job!" your boss laughed out loud, the praise feeling undeserved, as if he was doing it just to encourage you. Still, you fumbled with the hem of your tunic, feeling flattered. Giving you a strong pat on the back that almost toppled you over, he leaned over the counter, grabbing and piling some fresh fruit and a bottle of the best drink money could buy in all of Okhema with two glasses on top of your tray before turning back to you. You got nervous just seeing the bottle that cost more than all you had ever earned, hoping you'd not be the reason it would fall and shatter along with your savings.

"Besides, it was specifically asked for you, so it's not like we can send anyone else."

Giving your boss a questioning look, he merely slipped the tray from the counter, holding it up to you. Afraid he might drop it and blame the loss of merchandise on you, you caught it, sealing your fate effectively. The bottle and glasses swayed, and so did you, trying to adjust to the weight of the tray despite your exhausted muscles. You really didn't want to do it, but when you looked up, your boss was already a few steps away from you, waving as he yelled back. 

"Amazing! See you for your next shift, then! Take good care of our customer!"

With that, he was gone, leaving you behind to figure everything else out on your own. Still a little unsteady, you bit your lip as you balanced the tray while putting one foot in front of the other. Freedom was so close, even if the way to it was anxiety-inducing and exhausting. What could your boss have possibly meant when he said someone specifically asked for you? You weren't acquainted with the heroes at all, so it seemed unlikely that they'd ask for you by name. It all sounded like manipulation at its finest when he phrased it like that, and you felt even more uncomfortable with the task than you already were. 

Nonetheless, it had to be done. The quicker you were, the faster it would be over, too, and you'd probably not have to interact much with the Heir who was expecting your service. Stepping onto the elevator platform, you kept reassuring yourself that everything was fine and you could do this. However, a knot formed in your stomach, making you wish the elevator would never stop. 

The temperature wasn't much different from the lower baths, yet you felt yourself breaking out in beads of sweat, your body heating up with every second spent in agonizing anticipation. Who was going to wait for you up there? What did they want? Would you be able to hold the ever so slightly shaking tray until you reached their table? What if all of the Heirs were there, watching and judging your service? What if you lost your job?

You walked off the platform with unsteady steps, nervously scanning the area. You had been up here before, of course. But only to clean when there was no one around. Now, even without seeing it, you immediately felt the presence lingering in one of the baths. Eyes of striking blue fixated on you, raking down your body and leaving only goosebumps in their wake as they scanned over you. Halting your breath, you heard the water swaying to your left before you saw the body moving it. Casual, relaxed, but focused—on you.

Phainon.

Barely anyone was as well-known as he was around Okhema. Naturally, every Chrysos Heir was revered, but no one was as loved as Phainon. With his cheerful nature and helpful spirit, many people looked up to him as their savior and hero. They felt safe and comfortable around him, no less because he showed everyone kindness, his smile more dazzling than most could stand without fainting. The same smile he was showing you, now that he had your attention on him.

"There you are!" he greeted you, waving from his bath as if you two were lifelong friends. You had never met him privately before, only ever watched from the masses when he returned after a mission. The two of you lived in entirely different worlds, yet it made your face heat up to be greeted by him like a friend. 

Quickly but while carefully balancing the expensive bottle on your tray, you made your way over to Phainon, his smile growing bigger as you approached. As if he was about to jump up, he leaned forward, shifting to the side on the bench closest to you and sending waves your way as you stepped into the water. With the waves crashing into you, you had to fight with your balance, the fluid soaking your clothes again, making them cling to your body uncomfortably.

There was something special about the Hero's baths; their effects were even more soothing and healing than those below. You were immediately confronted with these effects as you felt your body relax. That was one of the reasons why it took special training to serve the upper floor, and you struggled with not just giving in to the relaxing effects. You barely reached the table before letting the tray down. Accidentally, a soft groan escaped you as the strain disappeared, immediately causing you to feel ashamed as you realized how unbecoming such a sound was in front of a hero who fought for the people all day. The least you could do was serve him properly, without complaints, yet here you were.

"A- Apologies for the delay, Sir…" you mumbled, giving a small bow while averting your eyes. Your heart was pounding increasingly fast, but you tried your best to simply get the task over with, not wanting to raise more attention on yourself.

"No need, you are right on time!" Phainon replied chipperly, another large wave crashing into you, almost knocking you over. Immediately, you looked up, seeing him standing right before you, his hand reaching out. "I was looking forward to seeing you again."

Fingertips ghosted over your cheek, and your body did the most logical yet stupidly over-the-top reaction and jumped away. You were so surprised by his sudden touch that you didn't consider your surroundings, the water reaching up to your hips tripping you over as you crashed backward, barely cushioned as you landed on one of the stairs leading into the bath. Bewildered and surprised, you looked up to see Phainon slowly close the distance, his expression a mix of concern and something softer, perhaps pity… or maybe not.

"Sorry, I just couldn't help myself. The last mission took so long, I really missed you."

"N-No, I'm so sorry! I was just surprised, forgive me…" you quickly tried to wave off the embarrassment. Your eyes darted from side to side, trying to be polite but also not stare. From your position, it was hard not to look anywhere indecent, but you also didn't want to be rude and just bolt. Still, you couldn't help but see a few glimpses of his body, water dripping down the lines of his muscles, making him glisten in the moody lightening of the bathhouse. The towel around his hips was one of the regular ones, yet, on Phainon, it looked almost too small as it hung low on his body, leaving neither his defined thighs nor the bulge between his legs to your imagination.

It was massive. 

Gulping, you felt the heat rise dangerously hot into your face, shaming you for having even a tiny indecent thought about the Heir. Someone like you could barely stand in his presence, let alone think about what his cock must be like. You watched in a mix of embarrassment and surprise as Phainon reached out again, certainly to lend you a hand. He was that kind of man, a true hero. Selfless and kind. That's why it surprised you even more when his arms landed on either side of you, your legs opening without thinking to welcome his body between them. 

For a moment, you merely stared at him, his face so close now that you felt his breath tingling on your damp skin. Seeing every eyelash on his gorgeous eyes and the small dimples as he smiled felt utterly unreal. The next thing you knew, one hand was on your thigh, massaging your muscles as it slowly moved upwards. 

"I missed you so much," he murmured. "I kept thinking of returning to you. Guess it's too much to ask if you missed me, too?"

For the first time, you listened to his words more closely. It was easy, really, with his mouth so close that you watched his lips move. "Do we… know each other?" you asked, confused. You didn't remember ever interacting with Phainon before, much less having a relationship close enough to miss each other. The crack in his smile was noticeable, the disappointment reaching even his mesmerizing blue eyes. But as fast as it had appeared, it was gone again. Instead, you were confronted with the feeling of his hand beneath your clothes, dangerously near to your privates.

Letting out a small gasp, you looked down at it, reacting instinctively as you gripped his wrist, barely able to wrap your fingers all the way around it. The differences between you two were much more significant than you first expected, his body able to shield you from anything and all while he could break you like a twig at the same time. You never felt as weak as you did now when you were in Phainon's presence, his touch creeping higher and higher. 

"Ouch," he laughed, faking his hurt before quickly returning to his confident and sweet smile. "You know how to break hearts, don't you? And here I am, so happy to see you…"

"S-Sorry!" you immediately apologized, although you didn't know if it was necessary. 

However, your words were cut off as you suddenly felt Phainon's hand placed on top of your lower stomach, playing with the rim of your underwear. "W-Wait!" you stuttered, and his grin widened more as he dragged the fabric down. 

"I've waited a long time, don't take this from me now, please."

You could barely believe what was happening as the Phainon lowered himself before you, never breaking eye contact as he freed your cock from the clothes holding it back, the traitor jumping up and brushing against Phainon's chest with gentle arousal. It was all too much as realization finally dawned on you about what was happening, and you still found it hard to believe. But with a long sigh, Phainon's expression softened as he briefly looked down at your member, swaying his chest to move it around until it was situated right between his pecs, his eyes returning to yours with a flush of adoration in them.

And then, with more vigor than anyone had ever touched you with before, Phainon began rubbing your length up and down between his pecs. Water was sloshing all around you two as he moved up and down your cock, slowly picking up the speed. Your hands reached for his shoulders, trying to push him away, embarrassment burning in your cheeks. Instead, they only found hold there as Phainon pressed against you harder, mistaking your resistance for an invitation.

"W-Wait!" you stammered, but your words were followed by a stifled moan as you bit your lip hard. With the water acting as a rough lubricant, the friction between your skins wrapped deliciously around your cock. His tough muscles seemed to soften, adjusting so they could pleasure you better, and you heard him chuckle as your legs pressed into his sides. At this point, you didn't even know if you wanted to push him away or draw him closer while he turned you into a gasping mess. 

"This is like a dream come true," Phainon sighed blissfully as he worked your shaft between his pecs. "I've always wanted to be alone with you like this! You have no idea how long I've been trying to get closer to you."

His words reached your ears but couldn't settle your raging thoughts. Nothing about this made sense! Why would the Chrysos Heir want someone ordinary and unremarkable like you? All of Okhema laid at his feet, yet he wanted you of all people? It didn't feel right, and neither did what he was doing to you without your consent. And yet, against all reason, your head fell back just as you felt your body tensing. 

"That's right," he mumbled, his weight bearing down on you as he buried your cock between his pecs." Be a good boy and come for me. Let me have a taste, I've been starving."

All you could do was obey, your toes curling as you tried biting back the moan that finally broke free. It felt incredibly wrong, but as you watched your cum splash and spread across Phainon's chest, you couldn't help but stare in stunned silence. Both of you were breathing heavily, the motion continuing to tease your cock, which still throbbed between Phainon's pecs. Only now did you realize what you had done—and to be fair, it was his fault as well—the shame burning through your whole body as you whimpered fearfully. 

What if he'd tell everyone that you had forced yourself on him? What if he blackmailed you? No… Phainon wasn't that kind of person. You had always known him to be noble and kindhearted, your mind was merely playing tricks on you out of your own anxiety. And besides, he had attacked you first… even if you ended up being on the receiving end of the pleasure. 

At this point, you didn't know if it was merely the heat of the baths getting to your head or if you were about to pass out from exhaustion. Yet, you managed to pull yourself a few inches away, your cock slipping out from between Phainon's pecs with a nasty squishy sound, reminding you too much of sex. Well, technically, this was a form of it. Still, it made you nervous to consider this an act of intimacy. You two still barely knew each other, even though Phainon kept claiming he did. 

Stealing another glance at him, you watched him lean back, dragging his fingers through the spilled cum as if drawing patterns on himself. He searched for your eyes again, satisfied as he met your gaze. Phainon grinned, bringing his palm in front of his mouth and giving it a good lick, slurping up some of the jizz as if it was the drink of the Titans itself. Wide-eyed, you watched in horror, but as Phainon made one more step out of the bath, your gaze was drawn away, the towel around his hips loosening up before dropping to the ground. Not without getting stuck on his erection, though, and you gulped as you watched his cock bounce free the second the fabric slipped off. 

He was massive. You had suspected as much from the bulge you had noticed before, but seeing his cock fully erect, ran goosebumps all over your body. Something like that was what every man wished for. It probably made anyone faint the moment it slipped in, but it would be so worth it just to be fucked by it. Getting down on his hands and knees, Phainon crawled after you, a sight to behold, the great hero on his fours, preying on you like an animal. Now that he had a taste, his eyes had darkened with an unfamiliar desire. It made you gulp hard as you realized you were the object of lust reflected in them. 

"I- I'm so sorry! I can't tell you how sorry I am, this is unforgivable—I should leave!" was all you could come up with before quickly twisting your hips around and trying to stand up. You were already on your knees when one strong arm wrapped around your neck, and you clawed at it, fearing the enormous strength Phainon seemed to wield with ease. You had no question that he could suffocate you just like that, and the anxiety raised some panic inside you. 

Soft lips fell at the spot behind your ear, slowly kissing down your neck and making you gasp and shudder. His other hand dropped to your right pec, squeezing at it despite your body being less refined than his. Compared to your average size and looks, Phainon was like a god. Perhaps that's why he thought it was okay to play with your nipple, flicking it with his pointer while you felt the lips at your neck suck your skin into his mouth.

"Don't leave just yet," Phainon muttered against your body. "I finally got you right where I want you."

"I- I'm just an employee, Sir! I can't possibly be what you want!"

"Mhm," a long, thoughtful hum escaped Phainon before you heard his lips smack as they were pulled from your body. "And yet, you are. Always been," he confessed, and you weren't sure if this was a lie like your boss had told you or if you should have felt flattered to be confessed to by the Heir. However, your cock jerked as you listened to him, no less because of all the stimulation you were receiving. 

"And tonight, I finally have you all to myself."

Hand falling from your chest, it drove lower over your stomach. You inhaled sharply at the sensation of his fingers parting so they could wrap around the base of your dick. Jerking your hips back, you felt his length press between your ass cheeks, his hot and eager cock twitching as it was greeted by softness. Phainon let out an audible breath before he chuckled, allowing you to feel every inch of him by rubbing his cock against your butt. Simultaneously, his pointer and thumb created a circle around your own sex, stroking it up and down slowly. 

You two fell into a rhythm of stroking and rubbing, Phainon's kisses returning to the nape of your neck, together with his hot breath and wet tongue. The arm around your neck kept holding you up, choking you a little every time he pressed you forward with a push of his hips, and you gasped, making Phainon's breath shudder every time as if your voice aroused him. Soon enough, your cock was up and ready again, although you felt exhausted after all the work that day and having already spent yourself all over the hero. 

But when you felt the next orgasm built, making you snap your own hips forward into Phainon's hand, he suddenly let go of your cock, leaving it to pound helplessly into the air. "You're already ready again," Phainon teased, and you bit your lip, holding back the frustration. Suddenly, he let go of you, pulling away and leaving you to catch your balance until you found yourself on all fours this time. Your dick was twitching between your legs, upset about not finishing what Phainon had started.

But before you could come to your senses and use the chance to leave, Phainon was back, his legs on either side of your body as he got down on your level. Next thing you knew, something slimy dripped onto your butt, running off the curve and into your crack. Alarmed, you looked back, watching as a focused Phainon poured some liquid out of a golden pitcher, letting it run over his hand and thoroughly coating it in the thick substances. When he looked up again, he smiled again, assuring you, "No worries, I prepared for this."

Then, he slipped his hand between your cheeks, his middle finger pushing against your hole. Realizing that he was preparing you for penetration, you gasped, immediately trying to crawl away, but Phainon was quicker. He laughed as you squirmed, calling out, "Not so fast!" as he grabbed your ankle with his free hand, pulling you back on the first step and into the bath. The water was a treacherous accomplice, trying to soothe you with its warmth and calming effects, but as his finger slipped inside you, there was no calm to be found in you. 

"Wait!" you yelled, pushing back against the arm whose finger penetrated you with your own hand, but you didn't have the strength to fight him. The lube he used had some form of relaxant in it, making it easier to stretch you. You mewled up as he pushed another and a third finger into you, undoubtedly preparing you for his cock's girth. 

"You're ready," Phainon let you know as you breathed heavily, his fingers stirring up your insides mercilessly. When you came to serve him food and drinks, you didn't think you'd end up being assaulted. Yet here you were, at his mercy, as he placed the tip of his cock against your hole, pressing against it over and over until he was frotting the lotion and coating himself in it. You opened your mouth to protest one more time when he finally decided to go for it, his entire tip slipping inside you, spreading you to a never-before achieved level of width. No scream escaped you as he pushed himself further into you, the only sounds around being the bubbling of water and Phainon's groans. 

"That's it," Phainon purred. "Take it like you were made for me."

Even without looking back, you knew he had managed to lodge his entire shaft inside. Your cheeks were spread, and his balls pressed against your ass. You could barely endure it, your vision blurry with a mix of tears and seeing stars. Phainon had yet to move, but there was no guarantee he wouldn't knock the breath from your lungs with one deep pound, making you faint like you had anticipated his cock would. 

Grunting, Phainon slowly pulled back out of your hole that clung to him tightly, all the lube being absorbed to ease your pain. However, instead of knocking you out cold, your whole body sprung to life as he pushed into you. In an instant, you were overcome by fear, panic, pain, and the desire to get away, but with the next push, you were left a moaning mess, rolling your hips in an attempt to adjust to his thickness penetrating you. 

Steadily, the pace increased, and your body took every push with delightful pleasure that made you almost forget that you didn't want any of this. Phainon's arms soon snaked around your torso, helping you back on your knees and pressing your back against his chest, your body molding into his. You listened to his grunts, trying not to admit your own sounds of pleasure as he plowed into you, hugging you tighter and tighter.

You could feel his cock swell inside you, the signs of arousal all there, even on your own body. This was not how you imagined your first private meeting with the Chrysos Heir to go. This wasn't the kind and heroic person he had been made out to be by everyone. If anything, he was an animal in heat, forcing your head back and to the side. 

"Look at me," he murmured while continuing to fuck his shaft into you mercilessly. Licking his tongue over your lips, you sighed as his dick pressed against your sensitive spot once again, giving Phainon enough time to capture your mouth with his, kissing you deeply while holding you painfully close against him. Not even a piece of paper could have fit between you two. You could feel gravity pulling you down on his cock even when he stopped moving, accommodating your second orgasm and allowing it to spill on the pristine floors of the bath freely. You not only had disgraced the Chrysos Heir now with your juices, but also your workplace. Even wiped up, you'd never forget your cum glistening on the stone. 

Phainon sighed as your body spasmed, wrapping tightly around his cock in waves of pleasure. Your brain felt muddy, the orgasms in quick successions taking their toll on you as you allowed your body to be laid back down on the ground next to your spurts of jizz that seemed to taunt you for your easily influenceable mind. Deep inside, you knew this was wrong, but after two ejaculations, you didn't have the strength to resist him anymore. 

Instead, you mewled, feeling Phainon's cock twitch inside you, still ready and eager to come himself. You met his eyes, a victorious grin on his lips as he watched you. Your reflection looked well-fucked and dazed, and you were, moaning softly as Phainon pressed down on you, imprisoning you between the ground and him. His hands fell to your thighs, picking them up and pressing them forward, and you whimpered as it allowed his cock to bury even deeper. You knew instinctively that when Phainon undoubtedly filled you with all his cum, he wanted it to be at the deepest point, the one that would drive you absolutely insane. And it was, every roll of his hips making you shudder and cry out from the overstimulation. 

His mouth found yours once more in a mix of hot breath and drool, the kiss so intense it felt like you were melting. Both of you had worked up quite a bit of sweat, too, your bodies slipping against each other as your ass was fucked raw. "Mhm, S-Sir…" you moaned, his body threatening to bury you beneath it as he kept pressing himself against you more and more. 

"P-Phainon. My name is Phainon," he replied, grasping for breath himself but smiling from ear to ear as if telling you that made him extremely happy. As if you didn't already know his name. Then again, he seemed disappointed when you asked him if you two knew each other, so introducing himself felt like a step forward in your non-existent relationship. 

"Phainon…" you called out to him awkwardly, intending to tell him to stop as you simply couldn't take it anymore. However, it had the opposite effect, his cock twitching inside you, causing you to clamp up. Both of you turned into a mess of gasps and moans, and instead of stopping, Phainon picked up the pace. You could tell he was close, and he placed his arms on either side of your head, plowing into you thoughtlessly. His whole body enveloped you, chest now closer to your face than his head as Phainon readied himself to fill you with his cum. Salty skin rubbed against your lips, and you caught a whiff of his natural scent mixed with the gentle aroma of the baths. 

He smelled almost like metal, which wasn't surprising for a trained warrior like him. The sharp iron mixed with the salt of his sweat, and there was a faint trace of your cum left, everything about Phainon smelling so manly. His smell was everywhere, on his arms to your sides and chest above you. Perhaps with his scent points on his neck and wrists so close, it was unavoidable for you to inhale it deeply. He was all around you, there was no escaping this man.

After tasting it for the first time, you found yourself craving more of this strange combo. Without thinking, you let your tongue out of your mouth, dragging it over his pecs until you hit his nipples. Unexpectedly, it was the straw that broke the camel's neck for Phainon, the sensation of you licking him making his eyes go wide as his voice got caught in his throat, a strained groan all that he could produce. Next thing you felt was the hot spill of his seed inside you, the fluids sloshing against the walls of your bowels.

Moaning loudly, your body forced itself against Phainon's. Even in the state of pure bliss, he managed to catch you with one arm, supporting you like a true gentleman as you grew slack, while he filled you up with his jizz. You two ended up in a messy tangle, and you couldn't think straight as he hugged you, cock still balls-deep inside your hole, kissing the side of your face. 

"You did great," he praised you. "I knew it was going to be good, but I could have never expected it to be this amazing."

When Phainon finally lifted himself off you, air stormed back into your lungs, clearing your head somewhat. Your feet curled up, legs trying to close, and you whimpered as his cock slowly pulled out, unplugging you so that spurts of white jizz left you violently. You felt utterly disgusted, semen, sweat, and lube clinging to you, but at least it was over. Tears rose in your eyes as you realized what Phainon had done. You wouldn't even be able to tell anyone, as no one would believe you that he had assaulted you.

Everything hurt as you forced yourself to move. Cum kept dripping down your legs as you stood up, taking a few weak steps and picking up your discarded underwear. All you wanted was to get away and never come back. Try to forget what happened and wash yourself until you were rid of the memories Phainon had left on your body. You'd need time to heal from all of this and especially to come to terms with the fact that your body obeyed and accepted his malice so easily. Everything from your body to the image you had of the hero was utterly defiled, and you felt so, so dirty. 

"Where are you going?" Phainon asked chipperly, and before you knew it, he had picked you up from behind. In all your self-pity, you had totally forgotten about him still being here. About the weird behavior he displayed and how strangely he spoke to you. This time, you used your nails to cling to him, wanting to give him just a little bit of the pain he had caused you. 

"Let me down!" you protested, your voice hoarse after all the moaning, but Phainon didn't listen. Instead, he carried you back into the bath, sitting down on the bench with you on his lap. You could feel his cock still hard and twitching between your legs, especially when Phainon moved forward, reaching for something behind you. You managed to stifle a moan, barely. It only needed a brief rub against his length for your body to shudder, remembering all of the abuse you had suffered. And yet, sitting in the warm, soothing bath made your body tingle in anticipation, almost as if you wanted more.

"Here, drink," Phainon chimed, pushing one of the glasses into your hands. It was filled to the brim with a liquid, and with horror, you realized it was the expensive beverage you had brought up here. Hesitating, you held it in your hands, glancing sideways towards your escape route, the elevator still waiting there for you like you had left it. 

Taking a swig of his own cup, Phainon tipped against yours, urging you silently. You hated the authority he had over you, but spilling the drink could give him more reason to blackmail you if he told everyone you poured some of it into the baths. Not risking it, you took a quick sip of it into your mouth, swallowing it eagerly as your body demanded more hydration. It tasted sweet and delicious and felt so good after what you had endured. 

"Want some fruit, too?" Phainon asked as he watched you drink. His free hand had found its way to your thigh again, kneading it softly. When you finally put your cup down, you noticed the fond sparkle in his eyes, his muscles completely relaxed. Part of you had assumed he'd treat you like a quick stress relief and throw you out the second he was done with his fun. However, he seemed content taking care of you after fucking you against your will. Unconcerned, that's what he was—the complete opposite of you.

"Why?" you whispered, still so many questions on your mind.

"Well, fruits have vitamins and are very good to regain some energy–"

"Why did you do this to me?"

Phainon shut up the second you interrupted him. Placing his cup down, he took a deep breath before facing you with a smile again, wrapping his arms around your waist leisurely. "I'm a warrior, I can't afford to have everything I want. So I had to choose, and I want you. I've wanted you ever since I first came to this place. It has always been you that I looked for in the crowds, and still, I can't take my eyes off you. I want you. I need you. And now, I don't think I can part with you ever again."

"That's… But I–"

Reaching behind you, Phainon picked an apple from the platter you had served him, biting into it as he listened to your stutter. That guy had no worries, it seemed, casually dropping a confession as if it was the easiest thing to say. Maybe after already making you familiar with his massive cock, he got a bit ahead of himself, thinking that everything had a price. 

"I am not a whore," you protested firmly, standing up for yourself for probably the first time that night. "You can't just ask for me and then force me to have sex with you! We don't even know each other!"

The sound of apple crunching began to annoy you as he kept eating while you spoke your mind. Only when you tried to get up and away from him did you get resistance, his hands grabbing your sides, pressing you back down on top of his lap. 

"You're not my whore," he relented, and you thought you saw a splash of disappointment in his eyes, only angering you further. "I was hoping you'd be my lover."

"I'll never be with someone who treats people like he wants, not even caring about their feelings."

"That's fine."

Phainon's gaze was focused as he said that, his voice unwavering. The response was too quick, too calculated. His fingers gripped tighter into your flesh, and you took a sharp breath to suppress the pain. Something about him had shifted; he felt… cold. Undeterred. As if he was about to make a necessary sacrifice.

But just as quickly, his smile returned, and he pushed the apple into your mouth, muffling your complaints. 

"Eat it. You'll need the strength for the next round," he announced, setting you down beside him before getting up and stepping in front of you. His cock bopped right in your line of sight, a clear indication of what he wanted next, considering he was ready to go again. 

"What?! No!" you yelled, throwing the apple away. Despite the awkward position, you moved to slip past Phainon, but he gripped you by the hair, pulling you back. You hissed in pain, only distracted when you felt his glans poke against your cheek, his entire length sliding up your face. 

"If I'm not the one you want to be with, I just have to become someone you won't want to leave, right? I can do that," Phainon announced, appearing to be proud of his deduction. You felt a shiver run through your body as you realized you were utterly overpowered. Before you stood a Chrysos Heir, known for his strength, stamina, and aptitude. And apparently, you were the enemy he needed to subdue, no matter how long it would take. 

The sweet, kind Phainon was actually… a psycho. 

"Please…" you whimpered softly, tears filling your eyes. "I don't want that."

"You'll get used to it. "We have all night, just us two. It's a dream come true, isn't it?"

Phainon smiled at you, gently cupping your face with his other hand, rubbing his thumb over your cheek comfortingly. But before you could even utter a reply, he rested his hand beneath your jaw, pinching into both your cheeks and forcing you to open wide. 

"Don't worry, sweetheart. I'll do everything in my power to make you love me."

[thatsexcpisces]

My least favorite placements (personal opinion)

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃

• please remember that these are just my personal takes and observations mostly based on people I’ve met/know and if it doesn’t apply to you, it’s most likely aimed at the undeveloped versions of the placement! 💕

#1: Virgo moons

I’m sorry I have way too many people in my life with this placement (especially family members) and y’all just know how to get under people’s skin. Every virgo moon I’ve met seems to physically be unable to hold back their unwanted opinions and criticism. Y’all will serve the meanest comment on a silver platter when no one asked or wanted to hear that shit in the first place and then label it as “just being honest/trying to help” like nah you’re just straight up being annoying. So many virgo moons are also control freaks and want to project their routines and habits onto other people and enforce all their little rules onto them and expect everyone to accommodate them and their needs without considering other people’s needs. Also, this placement tends to be very insecure with themselves and their own inner critics so must of the time they also protect their insecurities onto other people cause they can’t fix them within themselves and that’s probably also why they dish out little snarky critiques to the people around them. They can also be way too pessimistic and “conservative” which gets on my nerves sm like you take these people somewhere on a night out and they complain about the music being “too loud” or people “talking too much and being annoying” like chill Karen. Stop trying to be a perfectionist babe, it’s okay to make mistakes

#2: Venus/sun/stellium in the 10H

Having this placement on its own in your natal chart is a blessing in a sense because you may receive a lot of good luck when it comes to your public reputation and people like you but personally, I feel like being around people with this placement isn’t as great. A lot of people I know with this placement tend to come off as superficial or “social climbers” who use others for career and reputation benefits. These are the types of friends that will ditch you if you’re not popular enough or if people are gossiping about you because they want to make themselves look good and will ignore you in public but then be your bestie in private cause they don’t wanna be seen with you. They also only seem to always talk about their image or what other people think about them. For example, I know people with this placement who would complain about their social media or followers every time we hung out. They would always complain about losing followers or why they can’t “have enough followers” and what to do to gain many. I had friends with this placement who would also ask for a lot but never give in return and put themselves on a high pedestal thinking they are constantly worthy of praise or deeds from others. On the downside, these people may put a false mask to the public. They can appear as kind and good-hearted when in reality they may not be that way and know how to manipulate in order to get what they want.

#3: Leo/Sag mercuries

I will say that these people are super fun and know how to tell the best stories and they are also very good at making people feel included in their life. However, on the flipside people with this placement seem to live in a world that is only made for them and only has space for them to be in. I’ve met so many ppl with Leo & sag mercuries and it always seems so hard for them to acknowledge the fact that other people have feelings too and what they say can hurt others. They just think of themselves as the main character most of the time which when they do it excessively, it becomes really annoying. I feel like people with this placement just don’t have the ability to be introspective and reflect on their actions and things they say to understand if maybe someone took it the wrong way or if they’re being too much. They also have little to no patience or tolerance when someone else is speaking and they find it impossible to let someone tell their full story without interrupting or sharing something about themself like it’s okay to let others have the spotlight for once (Im a Leo moon so I’m lowkey dragging myself a bit here). Also similar to virgo moons, they may make rude or “honest” comments because they are very direct and when someone expresses that it hurts them, they get super defensive and fail to see it from another person’s perspective. Also talking louder doesn’t mean you won the argument

#4: Gemini Venus

Please figure out what you want omdssss. Being in a relationship with these people is not for the weak let me tell you. I have an Aquarius Venus so in some aspects I get along well with Gemini Venus but in others it’s like I can never read their mind and they’re constantly changing it every 5 seconds. You would expect these people to be very good and open communicators since they’re associated w mercury but most of the time it just feels like they’re on a non-stop adventure with whatever their brain tells them to do and you just have to guess what they want and do it or they’ll get bored of you and ghost you. I know y’all need constant mental stimulation but I feel like most of the time the other person is offering that to you but you just want an excuse to get with someone else. CHEATERS. Especially the men with this placement. Options exist and y’all love that. Also in general and with friends these people can be very flakey they’ll make it feel like you’re their best friend one day then you barely know them the next.

#5: Moon square Mars or Pluto/moon in the 8H

These people know how to get what they want and can be incredibly manipulative. Be careful and try not to play their game cause once you do, it’s a never-ending mind fuck. Many people I know with this placement are the definition of “secret opps” or your “secret haters”. They most likely have a lot of unresolved baggage or problems so they look for any opportunity to hurt someone else and take it out on them (when the placement is unhealthy/undeveloped ofc). Also, this placement to me screams “evil/narcissist” mother. These people probably had a mother that was really controlling or emotionally toxic and they grew up repeating her habits and will continue to act just like her. My step sister has one of these placements and she would do whatever manipulative things her mother put in her head, to other people and report back to her like a dog. These people are usually completely blinded and owned by their mothers. They’ve most likely had life on hard mode and they resent anyone who’s had things going better for them and they find it hard to be happy and supportive of others. Everytime I see this placement in someone’s birth chart, I know not to share too many details with them or trust them that easily cause they know how to hide and are calculated with betraying you.

#6: Cancer Sun

Idk some of them just rub me the wrong way. It really depends on their other placements but usually cancer suns with air placements in their chart get on my nerves cause they can be so passive aggressive and when you meet them at first glance you get this vibe that they’re trying their best to be fake nice to you but they secretly have it out for you. These people are moody asf bonus points if they have a water rising and when you ask them what’s wrong they’ll just sulk in silence and have an attitude until you actively do something to give them attention or make things better. These people also hold a grudge for life and sometimes over the dumbest and smallest things. They’re the type of people to dedicate their whole life to hating you cause you accidentally bumped into them when walking past them. Also their victim mentality is so tiring, they constantly seek attention and validation over small things and have a hard time taking accountability for their actions and admitting they were wrong.

[eileenrry]

CH.1 A KISS from WE CAN TRY series pairing: Uni/Roommate/Best Friend!Harry x Fem!Reader summary: Harry has an unique lifestyle and you're his sweet innocent best friend. word count: 5.9K contains: FLUFF, description of sex, feelings, kissing (obviously lol) a/n: First chapter of my new series WE CAN TRY! I worked on this one way too long (maybe a month even) so I hope it'll be worthy, and that also another chapters will come sooner. Mid writing, I realized this trope is crashing a little with my ROOMMATES one shot but whatever, we all love roommate/uni!harry ;D A HUGE THANKS goes to each of you that reached out and showed me and my writings your love! It really pushed me and made me keep going. I'm forever grateful for this sweet community. Would be grateful for any feedback, ideas, anything! My dms are opened always. All my love, E

“Ahhh, oh my god, Harry! So good!”

A high-pitched voice echoed through the apartment, repeating his name like a mantra, until it melted into something almost sacred, less like lust and more like worship, a breathless prayer wrapped in need. From what you could hear, which was almost everything, Harry was undoubtedly good. Too good maybe. The kind of good that turned otherwise sane, put-together girls into a mess of tangled limbs, and desperate cries.

The old, squeaky bed frame gave out its usual protest, rhythmic and sharp thuds against the wall, punctuated by a wet, obscene slick of bodies moving in unison and his guttural grunts. It all added to the soundtrack of his filthy and flawless performance.

”I’m close, I’m so close!”

Harry was a man who knew how to use his hands. He knew the language of touch like the back of his hand, the map of a woman's skin. He traced every curve like he was fluent in desire, knew exactly where to dip and press, when to graze and when to grip. His fingers were long, and sure, curled in just the right places, showing the kind of precision he learned over the years. And his mouth? Absolutely filthy. He knew exactly what to say, when to say it, and how to say it so it hit the soul and the clit in equal measure. The dirty sweet nothings that made legs buckle and throats dry. He didn’t just make his lovers moan, he made them cry out, scream until it echoed into the early morning. Girls loved him. Craved him. Needed him.

It wasn’t just the way he looked. His golden skin covered in tattoos like a piece of forgotten art, sleepy green eyes that saw everything yet gave away nothing, the lazy, deliberate way he moved like he had all the time in the world. It was much more than that. He was effortless chaos wrapped in wild charm and just enough danger to make him irresistible.

“Harry!”

There wasn’t a week that passed without at least one night like this with Harry’s latest pretty things over until the sun came up. And oh boy, they were completely wrecked. Moving on shaky legs with tousled hair and smudged mascara, with clothes crumpled from their quick ministrations the night before and now clinging on their frames in all the wrong ways. Some tried to linger, trying to catch Harry like a fish on the idea of breakfast and potentially something more. But most barely managed to whisper a shaky goodbye and slip out of the door, especially after you stepped into the kitchen in your mismatched pyjamas and with sleepy eyes, immediately enveloped by Harry's strong frame from behind and his usual ‘How did y’sleep, sweetheart?’ in a British accent mumbled in your ear.

That was the moment every girl lost it. Every. Single. Time.

“Fuck, that was- ugh amazing, fuck! The best I ever had!”

Harry was a walking sex. A living, breathing wet dream that the entire campus, hell the entire university, dreamed about. Whenever he strolled through the crowded hallways with his arm draped casually around your shoulders, heads turned. Girls, younger or older, even some professors, cast looks your way, their jealousy written across their faces.

Because no matter how many girls he made scream and come undone not only on his fingers, at the end of the day, it was you he came home to. You, he wrapped those strong arms around in the quiet moments. You, he crashed next to at 2AM, slipping into your bed like it was his own after whatever girl had left or passed out in his. He’d curl into your warmth, still all sweaty from his night ‘workout’. It felt like the only place he truly belonged to, knowing you’d always let him and pull him close. His sweet best friend, the one he let himself be soft for, let himself be seen. Though he’d never admit that to anyone.

“You’re so good Harry…”

Harry stirred something primal in people - respect, arousal, intrigue, the kind of attention that clung to him without effort. He wasn’t the bad guy stereotype, quite far from it. He didn’t break hearts just to watch them shatter into little pieces. But he wasn’t boyfriend material, nor the guy you proudly brought home to meet your parents either. He was sharp-edged and wild-hearted. Unruly in a way that made you want to unravel beside him.

And even while he might have had a reputation for ruining girls in his bed, he was a gentleman. Never treated women like they were a doormat, never made them feel small unless they begged for it. The degradation he gave was wrapped in silk and whispered with affection and real care deep down. In everyday life, Harry was the opposite of cruel. In fact, he loved women. Admired them, respected their power and softness.

For him, there was simply something about wild and untethered nights without any promises, words of love and feelings involved. Just skin against skin, girl’s moanings and pleasure for pleasure’s sake. Harry easily slipped into this lifestyle, feeding on physical hunger without the need to understand the heart behind it all. Intense but shallow, passionate but uncommitted.

He was simple in the most complex of ways. A man of appetite and need. If something was freely offered, he never turned it down. Especially, when it meant getting his mouth on a pretty girl, drowning in her scent and juices and losing himself in the softness of her thighs. He loved it. The way they moaned his name, the whimpers, the gasping cries. Every sound they made was breathy and pure ecstasy, and it stroked his ego just right.

“Mhm, see you around then?”

But those nights were only momentary. A flash of heat, pure bliss and marks on the skin that in no time turned into a dusty memory. For others, a brief stint in his orbit. But none of them lasted. None of them mattered.It was always you. You, who he trusted with his whole life. You, who came back to, again and again, no matter who had warmed his bed before. It was always you.

You’d known Harry long before he became the person he is now. That lanky boy with big dimples, ruffled hair and a habit of chewing the pencil he’d stolen from you during lectures. Back then, he wasn’t the guy who made girls lose their minds. He was sweet and funny, awkward too, until he found cocky confidence over the years. And the rest? Mostly stayed the same.

His skin gradually adored more tattoos, more poems written in ink. His wardrobe shifted into something bolder, more distinctive, more him. He started putting more effort into his appearance - his hair, shaving, whatever it is boys do, and began carrying himself like he knew exactly how magnetic he’d become. You watched him change like a flower in bloom, mesmerized by nature’s own art.

The first time you met was in high school. He’d been running late, and the only empty seat left was next to you. And somewhere between stolen pencils and library study sessions that turned into other kinds of conversations, the two of you, in some strange way, became best friends. The kind of best friends who know each other’s coffee orders, wear each other’s sweaters (especially Harry, your big pink one), who fall asleep on the couch with tangled limbs like it’s the most normal thing in the world. One would think it’s quite a simple recipe for such a strong friendship.

Yet through all the years, you haven’t even once let in your mind the thought of you and your best friend crossing the line into something romantic. Not seriously, anyway. Not in a way you let yourself feel. Not even when his voice drifted through the paper walls in your ear every other night like a lullaby, moaning low and deep, mixed with someone else’s breathless gasps.

You never found your place in his bedsheets like the other girls did. You’ve never been a part of that rollercoaster of flings and one-night stands. He never really said it out loud, but you were such a precious creature to him.

Because out of all the girls on campus, why would Harry choose you?

You only knew the basics of sex from high school biology lessons, where Harry spent more time teasing and flustering you than anything else, and the blurry pictures on textbook pages told you nothing. You giggled through poorly shot porn at sleepovers with your friends, watching out of curiosity more than desire. You didn’t know much. How to touch, or move, or arch your back like the girls in those videos. You weren’t like the kind of girls Harry usually found for his (un)usual company.You were just and only his best friend! His safe space. The one he came home to, unafraid to spill his insecurities. The one he rambled to about professors and whined at when you tried to make him study. The one he let see his worst moods and softest moments. That’s who you were to him. Nothing more, nothing less.

It was another Friday. Lectures were done for the day, schoolwork pushed out of the sight, and casual clothes were swapped for pyjamas and worn-in sweatpants, which could only mean one thing. A movie night.

It has become an unspoken tradition over the years. Every Friday night, without fail, the two of you fell into the same rhythm. You ordered pizza or takeout, argued for a good fifteen minutes over which cheesy movie to put on, only to settle for an old classic or something completely ridiculous, and curled up together on the couch. Limbs tangled beneath a shared blanket, your head resting somewhere on Harry’s chest or shoulder meanwhile his fingers lazily traced patterns on your arm as you talked about everything and nothing. Sometimes, you get deep in the hole of philosophical questions. Other nights, you let yourselves get lost in the memories.

It was sacred. Something that was only yours and his. The only night where time slowed down and the weight of reality was lighter than a feather. Just you and Harry, a movie, and your shared apartment. Whenever things got hard, exams and pointless arguments, this night steadied you. It let you find the ground again or reach the clouds. It soothed you, melting all the tension from your shoulder until it all turned into oxygen you craved. It was the calm between chaos of your ordinary lives, where you let yourselves simply be.

“Where’s the pizza? I think I’m gonna die from hunger!” You groaned, throwing yourself dramatically onto the couch, sinking into the pile of pillows and blankets you’d prepared for the night. Everything was ready for your cuddles and chats, except for the food. Harry was on food duty tonight, and it felt like an eternity since he’d called in your usual orders from your favorite pizzeria.

“Oh no! We can’t have that, can we?” Harry’s laugh echoed from his bedroom. And a second later, he appeared in the doorway, already changed into grey sweatpants that hung too dangerously low on his hips and an old, worn band shirt he bought on the first concert you two went to together. Every time you’ve seen him in it, pleasant memories flew through your mind.

“Soon, sweetheart” He promised with his typical boyish grin, ruffling your already messy hair in passing. You whined in reaction and (unsuccessfully) tried to swat his hand away, only making him chuckle as he wandered into the kitchen to grab something cold to drink from the fridge.

Your gaze lingered on him a second longer than you intended, than you realized. You watched his muscles flex beneath the soft fabric of his shirt as he stretched up to grab two glasses from the cabinet. It was almost ridiculous how effortlessly attractive he was and how oblivious he seemed to it sometimes. Or maybe he just liked pretending he didn’t notice the way your eyes followed him whenever you thought he wasn’t looking.

“You’re staring again, baby” Harry mused, the teasing tone in his voice obvious even without him turning around to look at you. He poured himself a drink, and even though you couldn't see his face, you knew he had that cocky little smirk plastered on his lips.

“Am not!” Your cheeks flushed instantly, betraying your lie before you even realised it, and you pulled the blanket up to your chin as if it could somehow shield you from reality.

“Whatever you say” There was the typical flirtatious glint in the wink he sent your way before he plopped down on the couch beside you, handing you one of the full glasses of soda with a cheeky grin. Harry sprawled across the couch like the whole world belonged to him, his feet propped on the edge of the coffee table and his arm immediately found its way around you in a casual side hug. He loved having you close.

A comfortable silence settled between you, broken only by the occasional buzz of your phones and the faint hum of the city outside the open windows. It was moments like this that made you forget about everything else and left only the two of you in your own little bubble.

“You know,…” Harry began after a long stretch of quiet, his voice lower, more serious, “these nights, they are actually the best part of my week.”

You blinked a few times, trying to process his words, caught off guard by the rare burst of raw honesty.

“You tried smoking weed again or something?” You teased him with a sarcastic chuckle, trying to mask how much his confession was actually making your heart race.

Harry laughed, the sound warm and familiar, and shook his head. “No, no, sweetheart, I’m staying loyal to cigarettes,” He swore, grinning at the memory of his disastrous first and only attempt at getting high. “I’m serious. It’s just…easy with you. Don’t have to think too much. Don’t have to pretend. Don’t have to try so hard for you…”

Your chest tightened with every word, your heart thudding against your ribs. You didn’t know where this was coming from, but you were so grateful for hearing it. You opened your mouth to say something, but the words got stuck in your throat. And then, like if everything was against you or wanted to actually save you, the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it! You start looking for the movie, okay?” Harry said, pointing at you with a playful wag of his finger before peeling his arm away from around your shoulders. The sudden loss of his warmth made you shiver, and you instinctively curled tighter into the blanket as he pushed himself off the couch.

You watched him disappear in the hallway, listening to the low murmur of his voice at the door a moment later. Laughter, easy small talk, a generous tip handed over without a second thought, and then the soft thud of the door closing and locking again, sealing your little bubble safely back up.

“My savior!” You sang loudly, throwing your arms wide open as Harry walked back, the unmistakable scent of cheese and Italian seasoning trailing behind him. Your stomach growled on cue, the smell making you realize just how hungry you really were.

Harry chuckled at your reaction, holding the pizza box just out of your reach in an attempt to tease (and frustrate you) a little more. “Patience, sweets”

You grabbed the box greedily when he finally gave in, your fingers brushing against his briefly, but neither of you seemed to notice, or just didn’t think of mentioning it. You were too busy setting your boxes down on the coffee table, flipping them open to reveal the glorious sight of melted cheese, golden crust and your favorite topping scattered across.

“What’s that?” Harry mumbled with a mouth full of pizza, nodding towards the TV where you’d already picked the movie for the night. You’d seen most of what Netflix had to offer by now, but this particular one caught your attention. It was a movie from last year, still relatively fresh and new, tagged under romantic comedies. Harry loved to protest whenever you picked a romcom, but secretly? He was way too into it.

“Some new romcom. The description sounded fun. C’mon!” A small pout from you was all it took for him to be fully convinced, and with a dramatic sigh and mumbled ‘fine’, he pressed play on the remote.

You were about halfway through the movie when things started to shift. Your pizzas were almost gone, drinks were finished, and you were snuggled beneath Harry’s arm, his fingers occasionally toying with the strap of your tank top or tracing idle patterns on your skin.

You’d been surprisingly quiet, fully absorbed in the storyline. Now and then, one of you would make a comment that would send the other into a fit of laughter, but otherwise, you were both content and cozy.

Until a particular steamy scene started.

Harry’s attention drifted from the screen solely on you. He noticed the way you whimpered softly under your breath, the way your thighs pressed together just slightly, searching for some sort of friction. That your fingers grew restless and your body curled a little closer into his.

“What’s wrong, pretty girl?” Harry murmured into your hair, his hand giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze, coaxing a response.

A man was kissing his lover. His fingers traced her curves with precise touch, mouth claiming hers in a kiss that made her moan quietly. After months of pinning, he was finally getting a taste of her lips.

“Nothing,” You said quickly, shaking your head and sitting up straighter, trying to get your body back under control. 

You were hoping he’d let it go. But he never did. His eyes stayed on you, quietly observing the way you stared a little too intently at the screen, pretending like none of this was affecting you.

“It’s clearly something” He murmured near your ear, his voice soft, warm, but with the edge that made your stomach twist. He wasn’t teasing, like you would’ve expected. There was no mockery in his tone, just quiet curiosity. “C’mon.”

“Just uh… It’s just the movie” You said, too fast, too light. There was a beat of silence. Then another. You cleared your throat, trying again, this time slower, with a more steady voice. “It’s nothing.”

Harry didn’t respond right away. He didn’t challenge you or call you out. Instead, his fingers resumed their soft tracing along your skin, gentle and grounding. It was patient, soothing, like an offer to breathe, to take your time.

He was quiet about it. Like he was registering every small reaction - every shift, every unsteady breath, every way your body leaned just a little closer without even realizing it.

Not to push. Not to rush. But to understand. Like he already knew what was going on, and he was just waiting for you to catch up. Open up.

“Why can’t I have this too?” You whispered, the ache in your voice unmistakable. You longed for that kind of connection. The late-night kisses that would leave you breathless, the hickeys you’d struggle to hide, the kind of touch that turned your stomach inside out. The intimacy. The sex.

Harry shifted beside you, his hand gliding up into your hair. He began twirling a strand gently between his fingers, his nails lightly scratching your scalp in that way he knew calms you down. He hated when you started spiraling like this and got too deep in your own head.

“What do you mean?”

“I just… I want someone to kiss me like this too. To touch me. To love me.” A long sigh escaped you, as if the admission had been sitting on your chest for too long.

“You should have that all. You deserve it, baby. Every. Single. Bit.” He said finally, his voice steady and sure. There was no trace of pity or sugarcoated empty words meant to soothe. Just the truth. Simple, quiet, firm. Said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Harry never understood how no one had seen you for what you truly were. How they could pass you by without even stopping, like if you weren’t something extraordinary.

You were sweet in the most effortless way, stunning even when your hair was a mess and your face was clean of makeup. You didn’t need to be polished or perfect, there was something real and raw that made you simply glow. You were like a walking angel. So pure and innocent.

Your kindness was performative. It was stitched deep in your bones. You’d drop everything if it meant helping someone else stand a little taller. And you were absolutely brilliant. So incredibly smart it sometimes left him speechless. Honestly, he didn’t know where he’d be without you. Lost, probably.

“I just want to finally have my first kiss…” You murmured, the words slipping out in a soft, wistful whine, like a little girl dreaming of her Barbie dream house.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, only thick with thought, stretched between you softly. Your attention drifted back to the movie playing on the screen, though the images blurred in your mind, your mind occupied the you'd just let slip.

“Would it be that bad of an idea?” You asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper. You tilted your head, resting your chin on his broad shoulder, eyes flicking up to catch his reaction.

The steamy scene continued, oblivious to the shift in atmosphere. On-screen, the woman gasped each time her lover’s lips pressed against her skin with devotion, marking her as his own. The soft moans and rustle of sheets played like a soundtrack to your heartbeat.

Harry turned his head toward you slowly, his face lacking in emotion. Blank like a love letter that awaited to be written. Not cold, but impossible to make out either. He reached up and gently tucked a stray of your hair behind your ear with so much care, it made your chest tighten.

“You know I would do anything for you”

The words left his mouth without hesitation, steady and sincere, like he’d known the answer before you’d even asked.

“Yeah?” You breathed out, almost afraid to believe it.

“Of course. But uh…” He stuttered, his thumb tracing soft, slow strokes across your cheek. The motion made your eyes flutter, your body leaning instinctively in his touch like a kitten starved for affection. If you could purr, you would start immediately within a second right in his hands. “Do you want it to be me, baby?”

Your throat tightened, but your words came out anyway, trembling yet honest. “You’re better than anyone else.”

It scared you how true it was. How badly you meant it. Because the only thing worse than wanting him to kiss you was the thought of losing him.

“Okay, okay. We can try then… C’mere.”

Harry’s British accent broke the heavy hush in the room, grounding you, welcoming you, telling you that you’re safe with him.

“Um… like- like on your lap?” You asked in a whisper, the words catching awkwardly on your tongue. Your teeth sank into your bottom lip, a little too hard, almost enough to draw blood, as you straightened up in his arms again. Everything inside you buzzed with nerves and anticipation. Your limbs felt foreign, like they weren’t entirely yours anymore, like they hadn’t adapted yet.

Harry let out a soft puff of laughter through his nose, not in a mocking way, just warm and genuinely amused. “Yeah, silly girl.” he murmured, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You’ve sat in my lap before. C’mon, it’s okay.”

You hesitated for a moment, just long enough to let your nerves crawl under your skin like a static, but Harry’s touch on you was steadying, grounding you. He slid his free around your waist, giving it the softest squeeze. A quiet, wordless promise.

You shifted slowly from your place, climbing into his lap like a muscle memory. Like all these years before in drunk slumbers and laughter, only this time there was humming something else beneath your skin than alcohol.

It felt almost clumsy at first, awkward in the most achingly human way. Your knees bracketed either side of his hips, and your hands instinctively found his chest, steadying yourself as your palms met the heat of his skin through the thin cotton of his shirt, his heartbeat strong beneath your touch, rhythmic and calm. And Harry didn’t rush you. He didn’t tease. He just held you patiently and tightly, like if you weren’t toeing the edge of something so fragile.

“See? Nothing to be scared of with me.” he whispered, voice barely above the rustle of the blanket beneath you. “You can change your mind, you know. I won’t be mad. You set the rules here.”

“No, I’m fine. I just don’t know what uh, how-” You stumbled over your words, the weight of his gaze made you feel like a small, clueless girl who didn’t belong in this moment. Not when it came with your inexperience in something as simple yet monumental as kissing.

“Shhh, it’s okay.” Harry murmured softly and began rubbing slow, soothing circles into your arms, trying to coax the tension out of your body. “You’re so tensed, baby.”

A quiet huff of frustration escaped your lips as you tried to shake out your limbs to force the anxiety out. You hated that your nerves were betraying you like this.

Once your breathing evened out a little, he reached up, his left hand gliding up to the side of your neck with practiced ease. His fingers were gentle but sure, angling your head just slightly to his wanting, thumb grazing the flutter of your pulse point from time to time.

Your breath hitched when he leaned in. His nose brushed softly against your cheek, dragging a trail of goosebumps in its wake. Then his lips joined the same path, pressing featherlight kisses to your skin, slow and deliberate, a wordless message of reassurance in each.

“Lemme kiss on you for a bit.” he whispered against your jaw, his breath hot. “We’ll get you calm. It'll feel so much nicer then, I promise.” Another kiss, this one closer to his final destination. “Don’t think too hard, sweetheart. Just… feel.”

As Harry pressed gentle kisses along your cheeks and jaw, your hands became restless. You didn’t know where to place them, what to hold onto, how to touch him in a way that felt natural. The slight tremor in your fingers didn’t help either. Eventually, you reached for his free hand that was resting loosely on your side, holding you in place, and laced your fingers through his, guiding your intertwined hands in your lap.

“You’re still doing okay?” he asked gently, pulling back just enough for your breaths to mix. His voice low and tender. “We can stop if you want.”

“Mhm… don’t- don’t stop.” It came out more shaky than you wanted, but still sure. You squeezed his hand in what was supposed to be (your) reassurance. He responded instantly, giving your fingers a firm but gentle squeeze in return.“Take a deep breath for me, yeah? In and out… That’s it. Good girl.” The words wrapped around you like a soft blanket. Harry tried everything to soothe you as much as it was possible. Yet your nervousness was adorable to him. how stressed out you were over something as kissing, something he did almost every night without thinking.

And a few moments later, his lips found yours.

They were warm and impossibly soft, like cushions brushed in the slightest trace of smoke he must’ve had earlier. It wasn’t quite a kiss, not yet. More of a hesitant touch. Lips brushing, delicate and unsure. A question, not a statement. You tilted your head slightly, testing the angle, testing the feeling. Trying to learn him.

The next kiss was fuller, a proper press of lips on lips. No longer just testing the waters, but committing to it deeply. You could feel the corners of Harry’s mouth curve upward into a subtle smile the moment you mirrored the motion of his lips with newfound confidence. His hand slid from your jaw to cradle your cheek, fingers spreading gently, thumb brushing over the reddening skin in soft motions. The softness of his touch grounded you, even when your heart felt like it could burst out of your chest at any given moment. He held you close like the most precious thing in the world, and you couldn’t help but wonder, if he touched the girls he had overnight the same way or if you were special.

You exchanged soft pecks and gentle kisses for what felt like minutes, maybe more, you lost track of time right after his lips were on yours. Each kiss grew a little bolder and deeper. Every so often, one of you sighed into the other’s lips, or tentatively brushed in a curious lick. “You’re doing so good, sweets. Open up your mouth a little, yeah?” Harry murmured between kisses and with a small peck to the corner of your mouth dived back in. This time, his tongue flicked gently against your lower lip, tasting you, asking without force.

The room had fallen into a hush of quiet noises - occasional whimpers and wet sounds of your lips. The movie still played in the background, long forgotten, only the light coming from the TV reminded you of it with colorful shadows across the walls.

You parted your lips just slightly as he asked, enough for him to deepen the kiss, enveloping you like a warm cocoon in the moment. His tongue stroked gently past yours in a motion that made your stomach twist and your fingers clutch his tighter in surprise. Harry immediately sensed the shift in your body, the new tension clutching at your limbs, and pulled back just a little, replacing the intensity with a series of softer pecks, grounding you again with the calm rhythm of his thumb on your cheek. “Everything okay?”

You nodded, maybe a little too quickly, breathless and wide-eyed. “I didn’t know it would feel this… this intense,” You finally breathed out, barely finding your voice and opened your eyes to look up at him. And with the one single look full of something unspoken he gave you, you were completely gone.

Harry was quiet for a while, watching you, how your chest rose and fell too quickly and your shoulders still held the tension of uncertainty. But nothing about it felt wrong. Not even your lingering nervousness. Everything felt exactly as it should be. In this moment, with you two finally together.

“Intense?” His voice was quiet, like if he didn't want to startle you even more, not that he could. His touch grew even more gentle as he reached up, brushing a strand of our hair behind your ear. “Bad intense or good intense?”

“Good intense. It feels like… a lot. Right here.” You brought your intertwined hands up between you and guided his palm to your chest, right where your heart thudded wildly beneath your ribs. He felt the subtle moving of your muscles and you could see his smile softening, one corner of his mouth tugged up again. “But it feels so good.”

“That’s normal. Means it’s real. We are.” The words felt like the most precious thing you wanted to treasure forever. Lock it in the coffer and swallow the key. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose, gentle and light, and it made you giggle, loud enough to ease the tense atmosphere.

“You’re my favorite person ever, you know that?” Harry murmured, his lips brushing barely against yours in a whisper of a kiss. His fingers were buried in your hair, mindlessly wrapping strands around them the way he always had. A habit he never seemed to outgrow.

“Do you tell that to every girl you kiss?” You couldn't stop yourself from asking. The question was laced with a vulnerability you didn’t want him to see. But it would burn your tongue if you kept it in a second longer. This situation was getting more dangerous with each touch and word, pulling you into depth you couldn’t crawl away from.

“Just you.” He finally leaned in and stole the breath right from your lungs with the touch of sincerity. There was no rush, no pressure. It was the kind of kiss that told you more than words could. It was everything.

Your lips moved with his, slow at first, but growing more confident as the time passed. The rhythm between you got bigger meaning than the word ‘natural’ had. Your free hand slid up at the side of his neck, fingertips massaging muscles on his neck with pressure and softness at once. Harry hummed quietly in response, a sound that vibrated more through your chest and down to your core than ringed in your ears. A wordless answer, a praise at how good you were doing. He kissed you again, and again, until your mind went quiet. Until you became the definition of being kissed senseless by the boy who knew your heart better than anyone else ever would.

Minutes slipped by unnoticed when you pulled back, just enough to let your forehead rest against his. Your breaths mingled in the small space between you, hot and uneven, slowly syncing as your lips tingled, still swollen from his kisses. Your brain felt mushy, your thoughts scattered somewhere between the couch cushions and the soft curve of his mouth. There was the kind of silence that didn’t need to be filled. Held, tender and safe.

Your chest heaved in a shaky rhythm as you tried to find your voice again, managing only a breathless whimper that instantly caught his attention. “I- uh I think we have a problem.”

Harry blinked at you sleepily, still caught in the dazed haze of making out. “Huh?” His brows furrowed as he squinted at you, clearly confused, like his brain hadn’t fully caught up with the words that left your lips. His grip on you subtly tightened, grounding you both in case whatever was going through your mind might shatter something between you.

You glanced away for a split second, cheeks heating as you tried to gather your courage again. “I’m gonna need your kisses every day after that…” Your voice was light and honest, but laced with something deeper. It was more than just admitting a passing joke. It was real. And it felt too right to regret.

You saw emotions swirl and shift across Harry’s face. He was stunned, caught completely off guard by your words, frozen for a beat before a loud, genuine laugh burst from his chest, vibrating through yours. “Baby!” He groaned, burying his face in the crook of your neck. His arms wrapped tightly around your waist, holding you close like he couldn’t physically contain the joy bubbling inside him.

He peppered your skin there with chaste kisses and loud smooches that left big ‘mwah’ sounds behind, before pulling back just far enough to meet your eyes again, grinning like a fool.

“We can arrange that. Don’t worry.”

[villainsoftheweek]

the best thing.

rating: explicit. 18+ only. length: 5,608 content: Gale Dekarios x f!tav [f!reader], porn with plot, established relationship (engaged), post-Baldur's Gate III canon, fluff, domestic bliss, smut [fingering - receiving, oral - receiving, unprotected p in v, creampie], kink(s) [overstimulation, orgasm control, hands, hair pulling, body worship]

after everything the two of you have been through, you're eager to give Gale one perfect, blissful day.

It was almost unbelievable seeing you bathed in the golden hues of the morning standing in his kitchen, back to him as you fussed over whatever it was you currently had sizzling on the stove. It was so rare that he was able to sneak upon you these days - you were so attuned to one another that simply entering the same room was enough of a greeting.

But now you were focused, far too much so to notice your lover's entrance, or even to notice him for several more moments as he leaned against the doorframe, peacefully enjoying the serenity that being near to you caused. Even this was enough to fill his heart with love.

"If there should ever come a day when your presence does not fill this tower again it will surely be a day without sunrise."

You turned to him and offered a smile that rivaled the sun itself in beauty and warmth, every bit as life sustaining to him. You were wearing an apron he often donned in the kitchen, the fabric graffitied with streaks of color and puffs of powder. He was struck as he so often was with you, offering nothing more than a smile in return that reached his eyes as he remained transfixed by you - the very center of his universe and far beyond anything his goddess had ever shown him in beauty.

"There are painters who envy me of this privilege. To wake to such beauty in my own home every day…I truly am a fortunate man."

You would never tire of the way Gale's words spread through you like warmest fire, making you feel worthy of a love such as this every moment no matter how your mind was trying to force you to feel that day. To say in the time that had passed since your adventures in bliss would be an understatement - both of you had found what could only be described as heaven in life with one another.

Everything about one another had become home, the deep love the two of you shared the kind that people prayed to the gods for.

"You wake up everyday and set out to make me love you more than the last.""

"I could say the very same to you, my love," his voice was particularly cheerful this morning and you were glad you'd decided today for your plan. It was already off to a great start, and it could truly only get better from here with what you had up your sleeve. "What has you in the kitchen at this hour? We didn't exactly get to sleep early, by any standard."

When you've gone through the things you've been through, sometimes it can feel wrong when someone looks at you with the amount of love and adoration Gale was now…the way he did so often these days. Whether you were resting in his bed, reading at his side, curled with Tara on the couch, or doing any other thing to fill the time, he looked at you now like it was what he hoped to do last in the world.

And he always would.

"I made you breakfast. Or at least…I did my best at…making you breakfast."

The smile that spread across his face was more stunning than any of the scenery in all of your adventures, not a single star or moon matching its beauty. As you were lost in your profound love for him he took the lull in conversation to close the distance to you, wrapping his arms around you and reuniting you into his warm embrace - it hadn't been long, but it was always an eternity.

He pressed several kisses to your forehead as he gazed over your shoulder, analyzing the plates you'd made for the two of you to enjoy. His brows pulled together in an expression you recognized as being deep in thought - you pressed a kiss to the lines as he spoke again.

"I know this meal…"

Your lips lifted into a smile against his skin and he reached upward to encourage you to meet his gaze again, awaiting your response and hoping it was a confirmation of what he suspected. "It was the first breakfast you made for the party. I remember how proud you were and how delicious it was…no one had ever cooked for me like that."

"Your memory is just as astounding as the rest of you," he was positively grinning at you, eyes expressive and proudly displaying every bit of love he felt for you. His head tilted to the side briefly - something you were quite fond of - as his brow furrowed again, the arm that remained around your waist pulling you closer. "It's not my birthday, is it?"

Forget loving him more by the day - you loved Gale Dekarios more by the second.

"No, dearest," you replied, reaching one of your hands upward to rest against his chest. You held his gaze as you spoke knowing he preferred when you didn't look away. "I just realized…in all the time since I've met you there have been many meals that you've made me, and I've never made you a single one."

His expression softened even more, something you didn't know was possible, pressing a gentle and loving kiss to her lips. The first kiss of the new day was always a shared favorite between the two of you - no matter how many days passed the first always created goosebumps and pulled quiet sighs of pleasure from your chests.

"You are truly are a gentle soul," he muttered against your lips, the hand that still cradled the back of your head sliding to cup your cheek instead, his thumb brushing across your cheekbone tenderly. "I'm still not always entirely sure I deserve it."

"But you do," you promised, eager to hush the self doubt that still lingered in your fiancé day-to-day. It was something you were happy to live with - it never annoyed you or grew tiresome, you were more than willing to remind him how loved he was despite any mistakes he'd made in the past, that any he'd make in the future were already forgiven. "You deserve it, Gale. We've been through so much together and I was thinking…I want you to have a perfect day. I want to do anything and everything you want to do for an entire day."

"Starting with breakfast?"

You sheepishly smiled and nodded before confirming, "I know it won't be as good as when you made it, but…"

"It will be perfect," he silenced your own worries gracefully and gently before they could even begin to fester. "As most things made in love are. Would you join me on the balcony for our meal?"

It was incredible how something as mundane as sharing a meal together could become an act of utmost intimacy. With Gale even the smallest moments felt like a life's worth of promise and love - if every day was like this you would leave this life with nothing but happiness in your heart. The day passed with him like a dream, like you'd truly found the person you were meant to spend this much time with. The person you were meant to face the passing years together - who you were excited to watch more grey bloom in his hair.

After breakfast both of you had fallen asleep on the balcony in a gentle embrace, his arms holding you against his chest as you slept. When you woke, Tara was asleep on your back and so you'd continue to lay together until the tressym removed herself to carry on with her day. All the while Gale had gazed at you lovingly, stroking your hair and face when you had continued to sleep a few moments longer. He'd never tire of the serenity that filled your face in truly peaceful slumber.

For lunch Gale opted to eat by a nearby lake, the beautiful afternoon the perfect landscape for him to take a moment to indulge in a bit of poetry…about you, of course. It made you bashful when he did so - it always had and likely always would, a demure laugh passing through your lips as you tried to hide behind your hands as he poetically described the many things he loved about you.

Of course, the heat in your cheeks only increased when his poetry turned to that of describing the ways he wanted to demonstrate his love - but you were certain you were burning when he'd followed it with a kiss not entirely decent for a relatively public setting. Nevertheless, he certainly didn't seem to mind.

It continued with a trip to the bookstore, the apothecary, and to another local merchant where he bought some supplies for home and a necklace for you that yes he insisted you have, even though you now had a collection forming in the tower. Before you could finish your day in town he asked to pop down to the local inn for a quick drink.

You were well aware that this was truly just time for Gale to show off his future wife to the other patrons - something that always made you feel fantastic about yourself. The fact that the famed Wizard of Waterdeep felt pride in having you at his side was no small compliment - it was a fact you flourished in.

Back home, the two of you cooked dinner together, Gale eager to give you tips on how you could improve in the future. When it was time to eat you shared a bottle of wine that you'd selected together earlier and ate in silence, reading your new books with zero complaints even capable of being formed in your mind.

Your eyes only left the words on the pages to glance across the table to him lovingly - something you were joyous to find he mirrored frequently. It was after dinner had been cleaned up and the two of you had tidied up from the day that you found yourself in his embrace, yet again on the balcony where so much of your shared time was spent.

For a while he simply remained with his head resting atop yours, holding you gently as you shared another sunset. It was only once the sun had completely gone for the night over the horizon that he turned you in his arms slowly, eyes finding yours like it was their nature to do so, wasting no time in leaning down to kiss you again tenderly.

"Have you enjoyed your day, my heart?"

He smiled the kind of smile that pulled lines beside his eyes, eyes that were twinkling and rivaling the stars that had started to decorate the sky for the night. You could feel how content and relaxed he was in the delicate hold he maintained on you, the love pouring from him and seeming to wrap you in a tighter embrace. It was these moments where the weave truly connected the two of you, holding you together and proving that you were meant to be together in this world - and the next, if that happened to be what came.

"I have enjoyed every day by your side, even the difficult ones," his voice was so earnest there was simply no possibility of disbelief from you - you could hear the honesty soaking his words, every sentence another promise and declaration of his love for you. "But today has been perfection. I could thank you for a lifetime and it wouldn't be enough."

The kiss he gave you then was the kind that is written about in books - in fairytales, the kind that inspires poetry and signifies the truest of love. He continued to hold you against him gently as your lips entered a dance you both yearned for constantly - at this point you were no strangers to what each of you liked and it was reflected with every swipe of your tongues and movement of your lips.

And it was always until you were both breathless - never a second before. The two of you had experienced so many things together that had made so many of your early tenderness rushed - neither of you were ever in any particular rush anymore. This kiss was exactly like so many these days - savored. And yet this was only the beginning of what the two of you would savor in the night to come.

"Would you like to retire to our bedroom for the night?"

You words were light as you whispered against his lips, biting at the bottom one lightly when you finished your question. A truly pleased grin spread across his face as you pulled away, his arms still anchoring you to him - if you wanted him to he'd release you, of course, but it was never a moment too soon.

"Darling, you need only ask."

Thankfully, the bedroom was mere steps away and it was easy to tug him inside with hands gently pulling at the collar of his shirt, your lips not leaving one another for long. Though it was obvious where Gale's mind was heading - a it was difficult to deny it for much longer as it had been growing since the kiss at the lake earlier - you still had one more thing planned for him.

One of his hands slid lower to cup your ass and bring you closer, tongue seeking entry into your mouth again as he waved a hand to ensure there was some light by way of many candles. You shook your head to which he huffed, pulling away just far enough to pass you an inquisitive look.

"Not quite yet, my love," you cooed, pressing a consolation kiss to his lips briefly before pulling away fully, wrestling yourself free from his grasp with a giggle. "Remove your shirt and lie down on your stomach."

Though he muttered under his breath about it he followed your instructions, brown eyes searching your face for a response as you only sat on the bet waiting for him, always one to enjoy the sight of him undressing. When he was finally in the position you asked him to be you straddled his lower back, hands slowly rubbing the expanse of his shoulders with the perfect pressure to pull a groan from him.

And that was the end of his silent questioning - every swipe of your hand, knead from your fingers and caress was met with a moan, groan, or whine from him - as time continued on he was mumbling into his pillow about how much he loved you…repeatedly. When you reached a particular point you could practically feel tension melt away from him and you leaned downward to press a kiss to the back of his neck before encouraging him to roll with a squeeze of your legs.

And oh, was he happy to oblige - to be reunited with your face, now with the moon's glow coming through the curtains to illuminate you alongside the flickering candles. A considerable amount of time had passed since you began massaging him and still you showed no signs of stopping, continuing to straddle his waist as your efforts now focused on his chest.

"Your hands are divine," he was barely coherent through the pleasure he already felt, his words far less calculated than they're normally be. "I could lay here for a ten day and happily starve."

"I suppose you're feeling well about your day then, my love?"

It was an unnecessary question - you both knew it. But he was also just as aware that you loved to hear about the feelings your efforts had earned, and it had been a long time since he'd denied you of anything you wanted that he could provide. With his most charming smile he nodded, leaning forward to rub the tip of his nose against yours gently in an innocent show of affection.

You reached upward to run your fingers through his hair delicately, pulling a blissful sigh from his lips again. If it were possible to create a symphony from what filled your bedroom you would gladly hear its melody forever…a sentiment he'd expressed toward you once that you held at the core of your memory and found your mind circling back to often.

So much of his mind was an exact reflection of your that sometimes it seemed they were still connected sometimes.

"Absolutely blessed," when Gale spoke it was as though you were the one who could answer his prayers, something you found irresistibly sweet about him. "If you're not careful you will spoil me beyond reason."

You leaned down to capture his lips in a gentle kiss again, his hands grasping your hips again, sliding to rub over the soft expanse of your thighs. Too selfish to release his lips again you whispered into the kiss, your own hands resting on his chest still, his heartbeat steady and soothing.

"I fail to see why that would be so bad."

He could only smile into it as he continued to kiss you slowly, one of his hands sliding up to hold the back of your head delicately. He began to raise until he was sitting upright, keeping you anchored where you straddled him with his resolute hold on your hip still, ensuring your lips never parted from his for longer than a breath.

Before his arms engulfed your waist his hands made quick work of removing the robe that covered your frame, discarding it to the floor with little care. His hands caressed over your torso like he truly cherished every inch of you and sought to ensure not a single patch of you went unattended to.

(He truly loved every inch of you - a fact you believed deep into your core. You'd only asked him once what his favorite part of your body was - he'd almost been offended that you'd think he could narrow a list of such considerable length.)

"Still, it may be good for me to exercise some selflessness tonight," he offered, a handsome and playful expression illuminating his features. His hands were now gently resting on either side of your neck, thumbs lightly rubbing back and forth - unable to stay fully idle for long. "You gave me the perfect day. Will you let me treat you to a perfect night in our bed?"

"Have you known me to say no to you often?"

"Only when I've needed to hear it."

No further talk was needed and the two of you continued to kiss tenderly, his hands returning to lavish your breasts again. Your own hands maintained a hold on the back of his head, fingers grasping his hair delicately - completely unwilling to have him pull away. Happy to oblige and always eager to swallow the quiet sounds of pleasure he could pull from you, especially now in the privacy of a bedroom where it had not always been a luxury you'd been provided, one of his hands continued to trail lower.

Until it reached as low as he could on your leg in this position, fingers brushing over the soft skin of your inner thigh - it was obvious he was influencing the weave to crackle at his fingertips gently, the result a pleasant tingle dancing across your skin. Your legs squeezed tighter around him in anticipation and he chastised you with a light swat to your thigh, not to cause pain but to capture your focus again.

You responded with a light nip to his bottom lip which earned a cheeky smile from him, eyes staying on yours as his hand finally reached your core - where you were desperate for him most. Over your panties it was still obvious how wet you were in anticipation of him - your time with Gale had proven that things like that only spurred him onward more, the confirmation that you wanted him just as desperately clouding his mind of all logic.

"Have you been wet all day, my love?"

The tone of his voice melted you like wax, you could only nod and whimper as he pushed the fabric to the side, slowly running two of his skilled digits between your soaked folds. His lips were only centimeters from yours so every movement brought them together slightly, your moan cut off as he kissed you again, index finger circling your clit slowly. He opted to speak against your lips, unwilling to be too far from your sweet lips for long.

"I'd have indulged you long before now had I known this is what waited for me."

His fingers swiped back down to your entrance and the middle slipped into you slowly, a smile playing on his lips as he kissed you again. Though one finger meant every exit and reentry meant pinpointed strokes the stretch wasn't enough to satiate the pressure that was seated in your core, more of a stretch needed than what one finger provided. It only took a slight squirm of your hips for him to take the cue, slipping a second finger into you which you thanked him for with a moan.

He left your lips to kiss to your neck, reclaiming spots that had often been decorated with his mark in your time since returning home with him. His fingers set a leisurely pace pumping into you, stroking your velvet walls perfectly as his tongue lavished a spot on your neck that you knew would only add to the slick coating his hand.

His free hand came to one of your breasts to massage gently, fingers rolling your sensitive nipple and pinching to add to the melody sounding from your mouth. From where you were seated in his lap you could feel his cock hard and throbbing beneath you, adding to your desperation - as skilled as Gale's hands, fingers and mouth were it would never compare to joining together with him.

You rocked down against his waist which pulled a groan from him, fingers picking up pace as he nipped at your neck. "Patient, darling…"

His hand left your chest to grasp your hip instead, steadying the movements you both knew would drive him over an edge he was intent to tiptoe around still for a while yet. When you continued to try to squirm in his hold he removed from you completely, brow furrowed as he used a hand to push you onto your back. He kissed down your torso slowly, eyes staying fixated on yours as he went - communicating his instruction to stay still without a word.

"Gale please, I need you…"

You tried to tempt him into giving into your way for once by reaching upward and slipping your fingers into his hair, giving the messy locks a tug to try to encourage him upward. It was briefly annoying that you felt his lips curve against your hip - amused by your attempt, no doubt -

*(Later when your mind is clearer you'll reflect on this moment - as you so often reflected after intimacy with Gale - and you'd once again be thankful for his insistence on ensuring he went above and beyond for you in all senses.

It was impossible to forget that you'd become the most important thing to him.)

"You know I won't give you what you want until you've cum at least once for me, darling," he reminded, his voice feather light against your inner thigh now where he sucked a fresh mark into your thigh to match what the fading ones had once appeared as. Your fingers ran through his hair and tugged again, he only groaned deeply in response and lightly bit at the spot he'd just marked.

"Gale -"

He did love when you whined for him - it almost always nearly enough to make him break on the spot, the temptation to give into you near overwhelming.

"Ah ah ah," he whispered, the vibrations in his voice tickling your skin as his lips brushed a familiar trail up your thigh to your core. "No arguing, my love. I'm not asking anything unreasonable."

All that was left to do was melt as his tongue ran through your folds, an appreciative moan rumbling in his chest as he tasted you - as though it was the first time all over again. The argument was completely lost as he continued to cover every inch of your cunt with his tongue. He was exactly what he'd told you to be - patient - as his tongue ran back and forth between your oversensitive and swollen clit and your hole that was eager to clench around anything.

This was certainly one of his favorite ways to spend his time now - sometimes to busy his mind with anything other than tortured thoughts of the past he'd lose himself in devouring you. The fact that you always gushed on his tongue was a bonus, one he was more than happy to work for, sometimes refusing to remove his head until you'd finished multiple times.

Even he wasn't patient enough for that tonight, but he was enough to continue lavishing you with his skilled tongue, hands gripping your hips and angling you upward so he was able to fuck his tongue into you and lean back occasionally to gaze lovingly at your pretty, creamy cunt. With the amount of love and devotion he was putting into every movement, it wasn't long until your thighs were squeezing closer around his head, the subtle shake at his fingertips giving your impending release away before you managed to moan out the warning.

"I'm…I…"

"There you go," he leaned away to look up into your face, his lips and chin covered in your slick and his spit. One of his hands abandoned its hold on your hip to join his mouth, two fingers entering you again in a swift movement, the sound that accompanied the movement enough to build heat in your cheeks. "That's a good girl."

With his fingers now pumping into your hole again it left his mouth to focus on your clit, his tongue relentlessly swirling on the bundle of nerves as he pushed you toward release. Your vision was already whitening and your fingers gripped his hair tighter, a cry ripping from your chest as his other hand pressed down on your stomach.

That sensation snapped like a rubber band through you - while you were lost in ecstasy you hardly registered that your release was gushing from you, though Gale wasted no time in covering as much of your cunt with his mouth so he could drink your euphoric nectar.

As you were coming down he crawled back up you, pressing kisses along your torso as he whispered a word or sentence of praise with each one. You were pinned beneath him, one of his forearms resting next to your head as a leg moved to slide one of yours higher - though you were in a post-orgasm haze you registered you needed to wrap your leg around his waist.

His hand came to smooth your hair back, leaning down to press a delicate kiss to your nose - a tender action that didn't match the lewd way he rolled his hips into yours, his cock throbbing and leaking from what you could feel against your pussy. His other hand maintained a tight grip on your hip and he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips now, whispering quietly against them.

"Are you ready for me, my love?"

The truth was, he could never enter you fast enough - or at least he wouldn't, his playful nature shining through one last time before he lost himself completely in intimacy. It showed now in the subtle shake to his voice, the slightly higher pitch that gave away how much he needed you.

"Please."

"I do so enjoy when you ask nicely."

He started sliding his cock into you slowly groaning the entire way, opting not to continue to kiss you so he could gaze into your face with complete adoration, finding just as much bliss in seeing your eyes roll back and flutter closed as a light smile played on your lips as he did in feeling your velvet walls around him again.

And this - this was as perfect as anything else that had ever truthfully been described as such. This is where both of you found some reason, some meaning - where both of you created your own galaxies. It started slow, Gale preferring to savor the first strokes inch by inch every time. His lips never left you, kissing you gently in any place he could reach on your face and neck and shoulders as he muttered quiet words of love and appreciation.

Poetry that would only be shared between the two of you.

When he was satisfied with the amount he'd cherished every inch of your walls welcoming him in again he re-angled your bodies so both of your legs were around his waist now, the new angle allowing him to fuck into you deeper. Now he was hitting a spot he knew would make you see stars, hoping that you'd thank him for remembering exactly how to reach it -

"Gale…feels s'good…"

He sounded his appreciation with a loud moan of his own, his pace increasing as the tension built in his core now. You felt impossibly tighter each time he re-entered, a fact that was driving him closer to release. Unable to voice it he pressed a sloppy, desperate kiss to your lips before leaning his sweaty forehead against yours, breaths falling out heavy against your lips.

No matter how close his release threatened to snap, he would never do so without hearing you tell him to do so. You allowed him a moment to dangle over the edge for a moment as you bit into your bottom lip, catching his attention and focus - focus on your swollen lips, and the sweaty sheen covering your face and slicking your hair…on the way your eyes threatened to spill tears at how blissfully good you felt.

"Come for me, Gale," the instruction already had him grasping you tighter, but when you continued with an offer that hadn't previously been on the table it was impossible for him to hold back much longer. "Fill me…"

He kissed you again - a little too hard for how swollen your lips already were from the amount of kissing already done but with a passion that was returned nonetheless. His thrusts became just as messy as his kisses had and he pumped his throbbing length into you hard and fast, hips pistoning into yours repeatedly.

Both of your sounds filled the room as his movements pushed you toward a second release of your own, walls clenching around him so tight he now couldn't bring himself to remove from you completely. Recognizing both of you needed a breath as his own head began to spin he buried into you to the hilt roughly one last time as his orgasm started, toppling you over into your own at the feeling of his thick seed coating your insides.

You were thankful he wasn't a particularly massive man when he practically collapsed against you, breaths coming out heavy against your neck as his mind found a new addiction in filling your womb. Normally he'd withdraw to get a soft and warm cloth to clean you but tonight it hardly seemed necessary - even if you fell asleep now it wouldn't be long before he was sheathing himself in you again.

He would care for you in other ways tonight, pulling away from you slowly and pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead as he positioned you both into something much more comfortable, facing one another on your sides so you could continue to enjoy the serenity illuminating one another's faces.

Between your bodies one of his hands met yours, your fingers lightly tracing lines on the back of his hand. He continued to enjoy the true peace of the moment before speaking again.

"Today was beyond words," he whispered lightly when he found his voice again. You could hear the love that each word was spoken with - what's more you could see it reflected in his eyes. "You give me everything I could have ever dreamed of and more."

You moved closer to curl up to him, burying your face in his neck as he waved a hand to ignite the fireplace, keeping one arm around you to hold you close as one of your legs slipped up over his waist. After he pulled the blanket over your bodies he turned his head to press a kiss to your forehead, finding your eyes were already closed and yet you still had a small smile on your lips. As he gazed at you for just a moment longer Tara jumped onto the foot of the bed, giving a long stretch before settling in for the night, her purrs mixing with the crackle of the fire.

Just when he thought you'd already fallen asleep you surprised him with another question.

"Let's do it again tomorrow?"

He kissed your forehead with a light smile on his lips as his arms tightened around you, happy to give this and more to you for as many days as you'd allow.

"And the day after that."

masterlist. baldur's gate III masterlist.

[6xillaa]

Ken sato x !reporter reader

oh, how he wishes you saw him as a man and not a boy.

cw for everything below: age difference (its used for the plot), suggestive (depending on who you ask)

thinking about kenji trying to impress reader in his games. the reader who is older, more mature and composed than him. who always comments on his arrogance in their articles or interviews. honestly, you were his harshest critic! it was your nickname amongst your co-workers as well. everyone knew you held hatred for him, and so did he. you frequently commented on his age and how it isn't smart to put so much faith into such a young and ignorant man and call him a living legend. "he isn't mature enough!" you always stated.

he hated that. his age doesn't make him better or worse than anyone else; he was just better because he was ken sato. but that didn't stop him from trying to act older, at least around you. because it was for you.

he's still so desperate to impress you. he'd do cooler moves in games, smile at the camera more in interviews, and, even though it seemed impossible, he became more prideful. but he couldn't help it! feeling your intense gaze on him as he walked onto the field or got into a stance, it was invigorating.

he especially got a rise out of seeing you roll your eyes, slumping back in your seat, crossing one leg over the other once you realized there was nothing for you to comment on his performance. it was perfect. so perfect that it would (sometimes, if he was lucky) get a small, ever so slight, smile from your lips. even better if he saw you nod your head in approval. so after one of (arguably) his best perfomances yet, one he spent weeks practicing just for his pretty little critic, he walks up to you, ready to soak in all the praise he believed he deserved.

"so... how was that y/n?" he teased, slamming himself into your personal space. it's his favorite place! if you thought it belonged to you, it was also his. "leave me alone, sato." you grumble, not wanting to admit your defeat to him. "it was good, wasn't it? right? righttt?" you push him away and begin walking away, eyes looking straight forward to avoid his gaze.

"oh c'mon, am i really that bad you can't even compliment me?" he pouted playfully, poking your oh so soft cheek, giving it a slight pinch. "fine, sato! you're a good player. you impressed me today, enough for me to even say im... proud of you." if you were to sneeze each time kenji's heart began to race, it'd look like you're having a seizure because of how fast it was.

"then why dont you show me how proud you are of me," this made you halt, snapping your head towards him. "how?" you asked, eyes focused on his lips that quirked up into a grin. "take me out to dinner. tommorow night. let me pick, and i'll consider the debt you owe me paid off." he smiled, taking a step back, allowing you to breathe again. when did you stop? "i'm not indebted to you anyway?" you retort, pushing him back even more to feel like you had the upper hand here. "yes, you are! all the times you've doubted my abilities! am i not worthy of getting an apology? a gift?" he said dramatically, placing his hand on his chest.

you sputter nothing in disbelief, until something clocks inside of your little brain. "are you asking me on a date, sato?" you asked, crossing your arms over your chest, a shit eating grin on your face. he leans down to your level, which is when you register how much taller he was than you, and tilts his head to the side. "and if i am?" kenji's voice goes quieter. "you're not my type." you mock, mimicking his tone. "i like them older." to this, he laughs. "you like grandpa's y/n? you like them near their deathbed?" he joked, trying (and failing) to hide his laughter. "yeah, atleast they're gentlemen, unlike you."

"i may not be the most gentlemanly person on earth, but i am a gentle man in everything else."

oh! oh. now you were entering dangerous territory. not for him, for you. it was so clear what he was setting up as a trap, and yet, despite all the warning signs there was, opened your plump little lips and asked with the purest face ever (even though your thoughts were the complete opposite) "how can i know if youre lying or not?"

and kenji, oh the annoying ken sato who you would never admit admired, not even on your deathbed, stepped closer to you, leaned down near your ear, and said in the loudest voice, loud enough so that you cant mishear him, and quiet enough that no one else can, says

"why dont i show you?"

if your composure was a ship, it would be near the ocean floor, the reason for sinkage; ken sato. right when your last functioning braincell is able to deliver a quip before total failure, someone calls kenji over. "you have a interview remember?" it yelled. "coming!" he smiled sweetly, kissing your cheek ever so softly.

the immature baseball player might not be as immature as you thought...

(thanks for the support on the last one, so i thought i'd write another one because im desperate for this man, like he's desperate for the reader, lowk. also i didnt fully proofread itmso sorry if skme names r missing colors and whatnot)

[iceunhie]

JEALOUSY IS A FICKLE THING...

ft. al-haitham, ayato, wriothesley, lyney

warnings : gender neutral, jealousy, mentions of suggestive content on wriothesley's part, established relationship, you are wriothesley's spouse. erm slight dark content but it's okay it isn't implied, we need more men like them in the world

mhie's notes : i used the wheel randomizer for this i hope everyone's proud i write for anyone other than scara ijbol

al-haitham’s jealousy is muted; quiet and hardly noticeable, often non-existent unless you have the fortune of knowing him deeply enough (kaveh). make no mistake, al-haitham trusts you, he simply doesn’t trust those that make moves on you when he was clearly right there. when some bothersome person disrupts you both on a simple date, which is already a clear red warning sign, for the acting grand sage hardly has any time to spare; naturally, his reaction would be to put a complete stop to any and all the flirty remarks towards you with a flat tone.

it’s not the content of the words that make the person making a move on you leave, but the slight menacing edge to al-haitham’s voice, a sign that if they do intend to cross the line more than necessary, he won’t just be using his words.

most would back off after a simple talking-to, but in the case that person doesn’t cease their advance, you can best bet your lover is steering you away immediately. dendro archon forbid they touch you or make you uncomfortable in the slightest, though, or else al-haitham has no qualms contacting the matra or taking matters in his own hands, but this scenario hardly happens often, given his seamless ability to get to the heart of the conflict and uprooting it so that no problems arise.

he’d most likely opt to diffuse the situation by straight-up telling any admirer of yours that you were taken and most definitely not up for grabs.

“they are my lover. since you’re clearly crossing their preferred boundaries and seem ignorant of the fact, i’d advise you to stop making them feel any more uncomfortable.”

though it’s truly difficult to get al-haitham jealous due to the excellent control of his emotions, tempered by his rational thinking, the most you can see of it is how he seems to stay closer to you than usual and the simple but firm link of your fingers as you both continue on your days.

(but if you notice him putting a subtle hand on your waist as you both walk, do try not to comment on it, will you?)

for ayato… er, why have you even bothered? if one even has the nerve to flirt and court the yashiro commissioner’s own partner, then that’d make you either not inazuman, or simply an idiot. it’s no exaggeration, but a simple fact. ayato is by no means a jealous man, but he doesn’t like seeing those not worthy of you hover around you with such impure and unwelcome intentions, so he tells ayaka and thoma, but really, he just wants to call the shuumatsuban on any who dares to even look at you the wrong way.

he bides his time well, approaching your admirer with a genial smile and elegant composure and indulges in small talk, but there’s a chill in the air and the looming feeling of doom as well as his smile that seems to see through any and all actions. its terrifying, really.

it also doesn’t help that he’d be extremely touchy in these moments, seeking to link arms with you and yes, even going as far as to rest his head on your shoulder, a clear indication of exactly how close you two really are. after you introduce him as your lover, at this point, it’s likely that the person making a move on you would back off and run away immediately, for how could they even dare to compete when it’s the yashiro commissioner himself who they’re facing?

he’d gloat silently afterwards in the comfort of his own quarters though, the sight of your admirer cowering like a dog getting cornered by a wolf, ah, truly satisfying. though thoma would eventually tell him to tone down the ‘borderline evil chuckling.’

“my love, have you been well? hm? the change of topic? ah, well, as the saying goes; ‘out of sight, out of mind,’ yes? no need to think about those that’ll only bother you. now, come here, there’s a new hotpot ingredient i’d like you to try… haha, relax, it isn’t dango this time.”

another one with a terrifying reputation and terrifying influence to make even the most daring of your admirers quake in their boots. wriothesley is amused - he gets that there’s hardly any window for romance in such a dreary place like the fortress, but even going as far as to court the duke of meropide’s own spouse? really funny, honestly.

but after the initial wave of amusement, he does take this time to immediately show off his status as your husband, showing off the matching wedding rings and even having the well-deserved nerve to smile and continue on rambling about your marriage, which is clearly a very happy one, judging by the way he presses a lingering kiss to your cheek while maintaining clear eye contact towards the person.

you’d have to wrangle in your husband when you both sleep tonight though, because wriothesley has made it his personal mission for any and all those who wish to covet you to show them that you were his spouse, and no other held your heart or your affections. when morning rises the next day, you promptly leave with a very visible bruise on your neck, and an especially relaxed and happy duke at your heels. most would look away in embarrassment, including your admirers, so that’s that.

“hah, that'll show any of those who have way too much time on their hands to lay their hands off my spouse. what? too brutal? well, sweetheart, what did you expect?”

oh my god lyney. haiz this enigmatic magician… magicians are all about masterfully weaving lies and illusions in order to perform to the top standard, and it's no surprise lyney also uses such methods when dealing with any and all annoyances in your relationship. he can be perfectly fine on the outside, but he has always been good with keeping his more sinister and less than socially acceptable side in check.

in fact, chances are he’d probably charm away your admirer with his own tricks; a wink their way and honeyed suave words to ease their love-struck heart and in seconds your admirer is up and away, promising to leave.

this often gets you disgruntled and in awe of his ‘performance,’ but lyney will always stave off your complaints or questions with a rainbow rose or some other fancy trick of his up his sleeve and guide you away, person courting you forgotten. all according to plan….

in all honesty, lyney isn't as composed about it as he seems. lynette can see it at a glance after you two have separated after the encounter. it shows in the way he broods silently for some time, preferring to divert the attention of such a sore subject away and going about endlessly about what new gifts he might give you or what seat was best for viewing, read: what seat was closest to him, for that matter. her brother was truly such a pain in the neck, and lynette does thank you for making him happy, but really, at this rate, you'd drive him insane by how much sway you hold over him.

“and just a trick of the light here and-! ta-da! a rainbow rose, symbolizing just how much i do adore you, way more than any other! …so don't try to pay attention to them, okay? after all, you've already caught this magician’s eye and heart~”

he can still be pouty and extremely clingy after the encounter though, which carries on whenever he performs any of his shows, where lyney always, always makes one of his acts feature you, be it a simple guess your card trick or his favorite, the one act where he leads you to land up on stage and give him a kiss based on the card’s instructions, it's all to show just how wrong anyone else other than him would make you as elated as lyney does.

@ MHIIEEE 2023 : do not copy, repost or plagiarize my work.

btw can you tell i had fun writing for al-haitham despite the fact that i have never even been remotely interested in him in the entirety of the game

[sukunastoy]

Only Love Can Hurt Like This, Prologue (CEO! Sukuna x Fem! Reader, MDNI)

Next Part, here!

⭐This is a redo of my story, Shameful Attraction. I've rewritten it as I originally wanted so long ago. I was trying to write it to appease people and once I let go of that and just started to enjoy the story for itself, the flow became a lot better. For those who read it before, there are major changes you'll notice upon the next upload. For those who haven't read it at all before, I hope you enjoy. <3⭐

⬇️PLEASE READ BEFORE STARTING THE STORY! ⬇️

Modern age AU, no curses. Sukuna still has his tattoos, but his face ones are carefully hidden. This story is set in Japan, and I've done my best to impliment real life into it. For example, tattoos in Japan are still taboo, and people associate them with the yakuza, so its not normal to see everyday people have them. Though I know I won't have all the details of modern day life in Japan correct, I hope you still enjoy.

Pairings: CEO Sukuna x Fem Reader Content/Trigger Warnings: This story has a lot of abuse in it. Reader is in an abusive relationship with her fiance, Toji. There are several moments in the story that highlight this including, but not limited to, acts of violence and aggression towards reader, including name calling, shoving, punching, sexual assault, being manipulated, unwanted bondage and containment, food denial, being drugged etc. Reader is thin, not allowed to eat a lot per Toji's rules in regards to her weight. If she feels like she is gaining weight, she will make herself throw up after meals. Reader also struggles through depression though often hides it through masking, however there are ocassional thoughts of suicide when some scenarios are too extreme to cope with. She's scared to leave, assumes she could never get away, so just deals with it all as she doesn't know what else to do. Wordcount: 2k+

Prologue

Present Day ~ Friday, 10:23 PM

It was happening again. There was nothing you could do to stop it. No amount of shame or fear could keep you from hiding in the bathroom at 10:23 PM, your thumb hovering over the open message icon on your phone. You knew who it was, the person you desperately craved.

The sender's name was your best friend and coworker, Yuna.

You always talked to Yuna; sometimes you even stayed with her after work was over in the affluent area of Tokyo, Roppongi Hills. There were even the rare times you'd stay overnight after work because you felt like you couldn't see each other long enough. At least, it's who your fiancé thought you were talking to and seeing. If he ever found out otherwise, well, you weren't sure you even wanted to think about what might happen.

Toji would get annoyed at you for wanting to talk so much with one of your friends, and he always demanded to know what you two did or talked about all the time, which you offered very detailed lies in response to his questions. It's not like you came to these decisions lightly. You stuck it out faithfully for almost seven years before giving up and needing someone else to make you feel like a beautiful and worthy woman again. To know someone else could appreciate you and offer excitement in your life. To not hit or yell at for everything was a huge plus also. Even if it was only temporary. Even if they didn't care about you in the same way you cared for them, you still needed whatever you could get.

Listening carefully in the silence of the night, you could still hear Toji snoring from your tiny, shared bed down the hall, and finally, your shaking thumb pressed onto the screen, closing your eyes as you felt the little bzzt of the message opening.

Swallowing tightly before accepting the message visually, you peeked an eye open and felt your face flush with a tingling heat that traveled down into your core, making your thighs squeeze together tightly as you sat on the edge of the tub, breath hitching at the photo and caption that now had you uncontrollably mesmerized.

Clicking the lock button on the side of your phone you dropped it down onto the soft rug below, your shaking hands now covering your face before going through your hair and you let out a long quiet breath.

Your heart pounded with the image in your mind, and what usually happened after you got one of these messages, there was no stopping it, and you hoped it never would.

Finally calming your nerves at the moment, you picked your phone back up, only to have that heated chill drop to your stomach again as there was another message to open now. Biting your lip, you opened it and at this point, you could nearly hear your own elevated heartbeat.

-"Aren't you going to answer me, doll? I know you're still awake."-

You covered your mouth with your free hand to try and quiet the excited breaths escaping your mouth, scrolling up slowly to review the previous message.

-"I know it's late, and to be honest, I really don't care. I want you here, need you beneath me in my bed where you know you belong. Letting a real man fuck you. You know he can't make you feel like I can." Photo attached: It was of that enormous bulge desperately trying to push through dark sweatpants that were loosely tied at the hip, shirt lifted and held up by sharp canines to show off that ridiculously built body, and sinful black tattoos that hugged the skin.-

Damn him. A quiet whine churned in your throat as your thighs clenched together more tightly in that shameful desire. He was right though. Toji could never fuck you as good as Sukuna. It was so embarrassing. Embarrassing how easy it was for Sukuna to turn you completely limp in his arms, and how quickly you'd lose yourself beneath him. Embarrassing because of how loud and lewd your moans were. Embarrassing because of how much you wanted this arrogant playboy.

Knowing another message would come through if you didn't reply, you quickly responded with the only thing you could think of at the moment, being so flustered and already getting dumb over dick through a teasing photo. -"I still have that report I have to finish this weekend, I don't think you'd be too happy if I don't complete it by Monday, Sukuna."-

As soon as you sent the message, it was as if there was an answer already waiting, and your phone almost immediately vibrated in response. -"Just stay the whole weekend with me, I don't even care anymore at this point. You can finish that here after I'm finished with you. I've already transferred the train ticket vouchers to you. The last one leaves at 10:51 pm. I'll pick you up at the station when you arrive. Just don't keep me waiting, my pretty, little thing."-

Running a hand over your forehead that felt a bit damp from nervousness, you shoved your phone into your pocket and let out a quiet but heavy breath. Having an affair with your boss was undoubtedly making you the happiest you've felt in years, but still, at the same time, it made you so frightened and ashamed. Especially since it felt like you were getting more attached to him, though you knew Sukuna wasn't looking for a serious relationship of any kind. He had made that perfectly clear. Painfully clear. You weren't the only woman in his life that he entertained, and you knew you wouldn't be the last. You were just fortunate to have his attention, for now.

He certainly knew how to make you feel like the only woman in the world though, despite knowing you were just sharing him. At least he kept his wandering eyes and flirtatious comments under check when the two of you were spending time together. Meanwhile, Toji acted like the biggest flirt in the world with every woman he encountered, even with you at his side.

Toji could be so gentle and loving when he wanted to be, but it never lasted long, and it was only when he was rewarding you for properly behaving. There'd always be something to set him off or some woman nearby he couldn't keep his eyes off of. You were certain he had been sleeping with other women for years, the way he acted around some of them proved it. Despite your supsicions, you had stayed faithful and loyal. Even through the beatings and constant derogatory things he called you. You weren't sure if it was because you had morals, or because you were terrified of him.

So long as you were obedient like a trained dog, Toji wouldn't hurt you. Mentally or physically. Most of the time you were too frightened to fall out of line, knowing how easily he could knock you out, or break an arm; something he's done before in a fit of drunken rage. He definitely scared the shit out of you, and cheating or lying like this was enough to make you shake in fear for your safety.

But, Sukuna never asked you to officially stay for several days like this at his own home. Sure, you've taken work trips together, but even though you gave yourself to Sukuna in any way he wanted, most of those were strictly professional and work related. So, as terrified as you were of your fiancé finding out, you couldn't pass up this type of opportunity. Maybe Sukuna was getting more attached to you as well? 

"I have no desire for a relationship of any kind beyond this. Don't get any hopes or ideas, I simply enjoy what we have, and it wont ever change."

Doubtful.

Even knowing his attitude towards your relationship, it wasn't always easy to keep your mind free of hopeful thoughts, unfortunately. The way he'd hold you so close or kiss you so gently at times brought such confusion it hurt almost worse than any slap from Toji.

You carefully snuck out of the apartment, praying to god that Toji wouldn't hear you. You'd have to come up with some lie at some point, but for now, you just wanted to see the man you desperately longed for. The train station was only a couple of minutes away from your apartment, so it was a quick walk down the road. Approaching the kiosk to pick up your tickets, you held the voucher barcode on your phone underneath the scanner and it printed out a set of tickets for you to board the train. 

Knowing the ride would be a little time-consuming, roughly over an hour, you stared aimlessly out the window for most of the trip, your leg bouncing in anticipation. You tried not to think of all the shameful things you were going to let this beast of a man do to you through the rest of the night, and how you craved every bit of it. It was the only time you didn't have to think or worry, you could just let Sukuna use you as he wanted. 

Nearing the destination, you clicked on Yuna's name in your contacts and took a quick selfie, angling the camera so your pushed-up boobs were clearly visible as well. Before Sukuna, you could never feel confident enough to take such pictures. Even when Toji demanded some risqué photos, you couldn't feel comfortable doing so. Sending them to Sukuna was exciting, however. Being satisfied after a few images, you attached a message, -"I'm coming. ❤"-

-"Yeah, you'll be screaming that soon enough."- he replied nearly instantly.

God, you could hear his cocky chuckle through the text. -"Please, 'cause I seriously need it. This whole week was awful."- You type out, still feeling the throbbing, dull pain in your side where Toji jammed his fist into your ribs for talking back to him. -"Yeah? Well, glad I had you come over then. I'll make sure to fuck all of the stress out of you."-

He sent another photo and you nearly dropped your phone once it popped up on the screen as you weren't expecting to see his large hand tightly wrapped around his hardened cock. You let out a near silent yet audible whimper as your eyes fixated on it. A shudder traveled through your body as you recalled how amazing he could make you feel.

You were just grateful Sukuna asked you to come over tonight, and it not be mainly for work, considering you and Toji had another fight about his past financial problems that somehow became your main responsibility to fix. At the time of your engagement when you were young, dumb, and in love, you had agreed to put all of his bills in your name and his credit debt as soon as possible so he could catch a break and start rebuilding his finances and you'd be able to help with the payments then.

Of course, through some miscommunication, you were responsible for ALL the payments now, and you couldn't keep up. To make it worse, he kept taking out new loans for who knows what and it seriously terrified you. Loan sharks were nothing to mess with. They'd give you anything you want, but if you didn't pay it back, they weren't afraid to get rough for their money. No point in calling the cops either, cause the cops were scared of them half the time too.

Seeing the city lights get closer, you let out a deep breath of suspense, knowing within the next few moments or so you'd be getting fucked stupid in one of the very expensive, luxury penthouses of the seductively, dominant man you met only a few months ago.

You knew the moment you had literally run into him while rushing down the sidewalk, causing his hot morning coffee to spill onto you and all over his expensive suit that things were going to change in your life, even if just for a little while.

End Prologue

I hope you enjoyed! <3 I'm happy to actually be writing this story again. I truly LOVE comments so please leave some! They make me smile so much. ヾ(•ω•`)o

I'll do my absolute best to keep this story updated, unlike before. I promise!

Next part, here!