#i used to go by she/they for lack of a better choice (now it's just they for lack of a “no thanks” choice)

[basementnoodles]

Oh, so we’re being calm now? That’s new. Guess a few bullet points and a smiley face were supposed to cover up the fact that your whole argument just proved mine.

You keep insisting you're a Katara stan, but all your energy goes into defending the system that sidelined her. You’re arguing in circles, and worse—undermining your own points. Let’s unpack this.

“Notice how your whole rebuttal became about how Zuko and Toph got more out of LoK than Aang himself?”

Exactly. That was the point. The franchise clearly plays favorites—Toph and Zuko benefit from more screen time, better writing, and stronger legacy follow-through. And instead of asking why Katara, the female lead of ATLA, didn’t get the same treatment, you’re scrambling to defend it by pointing fingers elsewhere. Saying "the creators had favorites" isn’t a defense—it’s an admission that Katara was neglected, and you just choose to be fine with that.

Also WHEN and WHERE did the authors admit that Zuko and Toph were their favorites.I haven't seen this mentioned anywhere so kindly point me in the direction of where I can find that.Ill be waiting girl !

“But Katara has the SAME global peacemaker title in post-canon material!”

Ok. Can you point to when and how we actually see her do anything with that title? A list of off-screen accomplishments slapped together in supplementary material does not equal meaningful narrative attention. You know what would’ve been great? Seeing her on council. Hearing her speak in Republic City. Watching her lead. Instead, we get vague references and background presence. That’s not legacy. That’s lip service.

“The kiss matters because it was Katara’s choice, and ignoring that ignores her agency!”

Nobody’s denying Katara chose to kiss Aang. That isn’t the issue. The issue is what the writers did after that moment. Her choice doesn’t negate the fact that her arc was shut down the moment she became the love interest. Arguing “but she kissed him!!” as proof she retained narrative agency is weak, because again, the character is fictional. Her story was written for her—and once she fulfilled the “girl gets with boy” trope, the story stopped giving her complexity. That's the point.

“You overlook Imbalance and North and South!”

I didn’t overlook them. I explicitly mentioned that Imbalance was a late attempt to course-correct—and even there, Aang gets more emphasis. North and South has good moments, sure. But they don’t erase the broader pattern of Katara being backgrounded in every major plotline unless it's tied to Aang or family drama. You don’t get points for handing her crumbs years later while still refusing to let her lead.

“Aang didn’t benefit from her neglect! He was criticized too!”

Aang’s character getting critique for being a flawed dad doesn’t erase the fact that Katara’s writing was still worse. He’s shown founding Republic City. He’s referenced constantly. He’s mythologized. We see flashbacks of him in action. Katara gets a two-minute scene as a grandma healer. So yes—his legacy is better preserved even with the parenting flaws, because he was still written as the Avatar. Katara was written as the widow.

“You don’t know if Katara didn’t go on trips, they just didn’t show us!”

That’s literally the argument: they didn’t show us. When the entire point is about Katara’s lack of narrative focus, saying “well she might have done stuff offscreen” proves that you’re fine with the writers erasing her as long as they vaguely imply otherwise.

“Tenzin and the kids clearly love her!”

Well, yeah of course they do.But a warm hug and a few shallow conversations don't equate to charather deph. . Katara didn’t attend Jinora’s airbending ceremony, didn’t help when her family was under attack multiple times, and rarely contributed to major conflicts.Once again, Katara stood idly by as Republic City went under crisis, didn't even lift a finger when the North threatened to invade the South, her home, didn't mobilize to help her family members during season 3 and 4.She dosent have to be actively fighting against the villains--a phone call, her giving Tenzin/Korra some advice...something, anything who showed that she cared.Don't you think that Katara's absence, especially someone as powerful and emotionally invested in the people who care about her's absence speaks volumes ?

" Honestly, I was thinking of how to make a post about how zuko is the one who benefits the most from katara’s neglect and mischaracterization without sounding too biased, not only in post canon but also in cursed adaptations such as netflix, but you so nicely have laid it out for me :) "

Wild how you think you’re exposing something when you’re actually proving my point. If Zuko benefits the most from Katara’s neglect—as you say—then guess what? That still means Katara was neglected. The fact that you need to reroute a conversation about her erasure into “who gained more from it” says everything about what you’re actually here to defend. And it’s not her.If this were anybody else then I would say I look foward to reading your article, but the fact that you wrote " Zuko Anti " in your tags tell me that ill just be filled with some anti-zuko bs.

“You antis just care about ships!”

Nope. The original post was a critique of how women, Katara included, get flattened post-romance in many franchises. I used Katara as an example because of the original ask. You’re the one who keeps bringing it back to ships—possibly because you can’t conceive of Katara having relevance beyond Aang or romance. That’s exactly the mindset I’m criticizing.

You claim to care about Katara. So do I. The difference is: I actually want her to be more than someone’s wife, mother, or emotional anchor. You seem satisfied with her being canonically underwritten as long as the surface-level labels are flattering.

If that’s your standard for good writing, cool. Just don’t pretend it’s the bar Katara actually deserves.

That katara take is not only incredibly silly, it misses the point of her relationship with aang by a mile. People really wanna see 'problematic' where there isn't any - god forbid some people date young and actually stay together, lmao

I want to start this off by saying that this isn't about bashing Kataang, or Aang for the matter.It's about acknowledging how Katara as a character gets sidelined the moment she and Aang become canon.

For context, I reblogged this post from @southslates

" I always feel bad for katara in the context of her life after atla because like, she's fourteen when this twelve year old avatar decides that she's his forever girl. and the whole world knows it and even if she'd eventually left aang, she would always have somewhat been the avatar's girl. maybe it looked like she had a choice but she didn't, not really. even if she eventually would have chosen aang that choice was taken away from her. that stings. "

That moment in the finale where Aang kisses her isn't just a romantic resolution—it’s a narrative full-stop on Katara's autonomy. From that point on, her development is flattened.Lets start with the comics, the direct sequel to the series.In the spirit of keeping things brief, I will not unpack every single interaction between her and Aang in all the comics but ill highlight the ones that stuck out to me the most, but if youre interested in a more throuought unpacking ill link @araeph's series, Katara : Consumed by destiny.I highly recommend checking it out, its a really interesting read.At this point in the timeline, Katara and Aang are officially together, and as such the nature of their relationship has changed..but to the detriment of her charather.

In the promise, Katara's role is diminished primarily to that of Aang’s emotional support. Her feelings and actions revolve entirely around him, and she never voices independent opinions or challenges him, even when she arguably should—such as when Aang is debating over killing Zuko.In s3, we see Aang's internal conflict about having to kill ozai and how he overcame it.Here we are a year later with a rehash of this problem--Aang, a 13 year old non-violent, peaceful monk anguishing whether or not to kill a tyrannical firelord. Not only does Katara offer no real emotional insight on this, but actively encourages him to not only go against his values but dosen't reflect how that might affect him, her and the rest of the gaang on an emotional level.Isn't Zuko supposed to be her friend ? Broski took a literal lightning bolt to the chest for her.

This pattern continues throuought the rest of the comics--In The Search, she essentially acts as Aang's body guard and she and Sokka are Zuko's role model for the Ideal sibling dynamic.We don't see her motivation for going on this trip at all--Its almost like the only reason she's there is because Aang is, or because she's a member of the gaang--so she needs to be there.If so, where are Toph and Suki ? Hell, It makes more sense for Suki to be there instead of her, since her job is centered around protecting the Firelord ! We also never get to see her feelings on the situation, or especially Azula ---Katara literally witnessed the Fire Princess try to kill two of her loved ones TWICE.You would think that the authors would delve into Katara's feelings on the matter.The last time Katara saw Azula was during the last agni kai and Azula was chained to a metal gurder and crying hysterically.You would think that Katara would have some strong emotions about the Fire princess.Anger at her for all the times that she tried to kill her loved ones ? Guilt for being partially the reason that she got sent to the asylumn,Pity because her current condition ?

On a similar note, why hasn't Katara helped her ?Since Katara's has been established as the emotional support member of the friend group, you would think that because of her caring nature, she would at least attempt to help Azula with her mental troubles, despite her complicated feelings towards the princess.This is the same girl who tried to help a starving village from a nation that she hated, the same girl who tried to heal Zuko's scar when they were technically still enemies, the same girl who was the first to reach out to Zuko and catch him from falling to a painful death despite actively hating him.

I don't have much to say about smoke and shadow except for the fact that there was no reason for Katara and her brother to not be there for the majority of the comic---The Gaang knows that the Fire Nation isn't a big fan of Zuko at the moment and I don't understand why she and Sokka couldn't have been there to help defend Ursa and Co as a show of support for their friend.And their help would have been invaluable during the Kemurikage crisis--showcasing Sokka's skills as a strategist and engineer and Katara's leadership skills during a search and rescue of the kidnapped kids as well as her waterbending .Show!Katara, defendor of the defenseless would NOT have left the fire nation if she knew kids were involved imo.The Rift tries to set up an arc for her to go down, but just as quickly she is pushed aside in favor of Toph and Aang's respective plotlines.

The comics do not provide Katara with opportunities to showcase her strengths, wisdom, or leadership qualities.By relegating her to the background and not making her an active participant in the plot, she becomes little more than Aang's arm candy.

This becomes more apparent in LOK.There are no statues of her while everyone else in the gaang ( except for Suki, because the writers completely forgot of her existence post comics-) gets at least one.We know nothing of what she did during her time in republic city.We know that she moved to the United Republic to start a life with Aang, but what did she do during that time period ? We know that she ( allegedly, since it isn't acknowleged in the court scene ) led the efforts to outlaw blood-bending, which is in charather for her to do and the most logical since out of everyone in her friend group, she was the most affected by the effects of blood-bending because of what happened with Hama in The Puppeteer. Yakone abused his powers to terrorize Republic City for years. Katara, famously known for her activism in the face of injustice should naturally have been front and center on that trial, as a founding member of republic city and representative of the SWT. But no.Sokka lead Yakone's trial and delivered the crime lord's sentence.Sokka, who although was also affected by bloodbending, should have been in the SWT, leading or at least preparing to take over as Chieftain of the tribe.

So what did she do during her time in republic city ? Become a stay at home and raise the kids on Air Temple island while Aang flew all over the world, settling disputes and building bonds ? While Republic City ran rampant with crime and discrimination ? Becoming a stay at home mother is completely fine, but it clashes who we know Katara is as a person.We know that she would not sit idly by and do nothing as injustice was happening right in front of her.As we speak of injustice...

Katara sat idly by as Aang blatantly neglected his two eldest in favor for their youngest, Tenzin.

Im not expecting Kataang to be the perfect parents.Katara lost her mom early on in her life and her father was absent when she and sokka needed him the most and Aang is also the Avatar but is also the last person of his kind--a group of people who had a different take on raising children then the other three nations.The very notion of a " Nuclear Family ", hell even marriage is one he didn't grow up with.However, Katara values family deeply, and as a mature emotionally in-tune woman would have seen the effects of Aangs ( unintentional ?) neglect on his other children.She would have known how they and been able to empatize with them, especially since she experienced the same neglect due to Hakoda anbandoning her and Sokka when they were younger.The Katara we know would have not idly stood by and let her children suffer--she would have talked to aang and ensured that all their kids got the love that they deserved. But she didn't.And Bumi,Kya and Tenzin suffered for it.In Korra's time, Katara's relationship with her family is superficial.Her grandchildren don't see her often, to the point that her youngest grand-child dosen't even recognize her.She sits idly by as her family and friends are targeted and attacked by their enemies ( Amon, the red lotus, Kuvira) while Zuko and Toph--charathers are moving earth and sky to protect their respective families.

Katara isn't even present at their successes--not joining them when they were in the SWT, not joining them family trips, and she certainly wasn't there for her Jinora's air mastery ceremony, even though what was left of the Gaang and Korra who was wheelchair bound at the time, attended.

Furthermore, Katara is the last member of the gaang who is narratively the closest to Korra.Despite possesing the spirit of her ex-husband, Korra is a fellow member of the SWT and her student.Katara personally helped oversee the young avatar's training--by that logic they should have been very close.Yet Korra rarely, if ever seeks her council, and when she does need her assistance, Katara is always unable to help her.Katara, who we are constantly told is the worlds best healer.

Katara, who post show was made to only focus on her children and her healing abilities, failed at even just that.

Katara always stood for agency, for compassion with conviction. But the franchise reduced her to caretaker and emotional backbone for the Gaang—noble, sure, but not a full reflection of who she is.

Katara never got the space to evolve as an individual after the war, and this lack of narrative focus reinforces the idea that once she became "Aang’s girl," her story was finished. A core part of Katara's character arc was her refusal to be defined by anyone—especially a man—but in the end, she was overshadowed by one. What’s truly painful is that it never felt like Katara had the freedom to make that choice for herself. That’s what truly stings.

In the end, this isn’t just about romance or ships—it’s about the integrity of a character who meant so much to so many. Katara deserved a future shaped by her own choices, filled with growth, struggle, triumph, and identity beyond just being someone’s partner or mother. The narrative didn’t give her that. It reduced a vibrant, driven, compassionate, and complex girl into a symbol of domesticity and emotional support, without ever exploring the cost of that transition. Katara was never just “the girl.” She was the heart of the Gaang, a master waterbender, a revolutionary, a sister, a friend, and a fighter. And it's heartbreaking that the legacy of such a dynamic character was ultimately treated as an afterthought. She deserved more—and so did we.

[draw-you-coward]

might draw my durge next 👀 shey're (creative and sexy way of combining "they" and "she") a bit of a meme bc I don't take myself seriously after the first playthrough but I think will be quite fun to draw! that face has good angles

[rosierin]

and that's on period | atsumu, osamu, suna

synopsis; (y/n) is on day two of her period. her morning starts with atsumu asking the dumbest questions known to man and ends with a nap on the couch

requested by an anon!! <3

a/n; this is unfortunately based off a real conversation i've had with some friends

this fic is part of the off-season quartet™ series! for more, click here :)

(Y/n) woke up in pain.

There was a special kind of betrayal that came from her own uterus.

Like, sure. Go ahead. Shed the lining or whatever. Do your thing. But did it really have to involve fainting? Back pain? The rage? She hadn’t asked for this. She hadn’t voted for this. She hadn’t even seen it coming. And now, here she was, curled up like a dead shrimp under two blankets, silently swearing vengeance upon Eve.

Day Two. The worst day. The bloodbath. The hunger. The irrational anger toward any minor inconvenience. She was fighting for her life.

One eye cracked open. The soft morning light streaming through her window mocked her. Birds chirped outside like they were in a Studio Ghibli film. Someone in the house was playing music. Probably Osamu—he was always the first one up. Freak.

The heating pad had gone lukewarm. Her lower back was staging a coup. The cramps felt like Satan himself was clawing out of her intestines with a pitchfork made of molten lava and rusty needles.

And yet… she had to rise.

Not out of strength. Not out of bravery. Out of one, tragic truth: she was so hungry.

With the grace of a tranquilized sloth, she rolled out of bed and groaned. Every step toward the door was a choice. A war. A scene. The hallway was too bright. The stairs? Fuck the stairs. By the time she dragged herself into the kitchen, she looked like a background character in a zombie apocalypse—half-dead, feet dragging, blank stare, no will to live.

And the audacity? The actual audacity?

They were all already there.

Osamu stood at the stove like some domestic anime dad, flipping something in a pan with way too much cheer for someone who willingly woke up 8:47 a.m. Atsumu was at the table, shovelling food into his mouth like he’d just discovered taste buds. And Suna. Suna. Somehow finished with breakfast and was scrolling on his phone like he hadn’t just committed the ultimate betrayal by being awake before her.

He took one look at her. Looked back down.

“You look awful.”

(Y/n) blinked at him. Considered violence. Narrowed her eyes.

“Watch your mouth, Rintarou,” she said flatly, voice still raspy from sleep. “I’m not in the mood.”

Suna blinked once. Tilted his head slightly. Raised a single eyebrow. Oh? it said.

Yeah—'oh'. Her face said back.

Atsumu snorted into his food.

Osamu looked up from the stove, genuinely concerned. “Uh-oh,” he muttered. “She used yer full name. Better watch it."

“I don’t mean to be that guy,” Suna said, chewing on the end of his spoon, “but… are you on your period?”

She didn’t even sit down—just collapsed into the nearest chair, dragging it out like a forklift with no brakes. The legs screeched against the tiles in protest. Her spine might have dislocated. She rested her forehead dramatically against the table.

“Yes,” she muttered like a curse.

“Damn,” Osamu said softly, pouring miso soup into a bowl and setting it in front of her with lowkey reverence, like he was offering a sacrifice to an ancient god. “Back pain?”

“Mhm.”

“Cramps?”

She let out the weakest “yeah” known to man.

“Faintin'?”

“Not yet. Don’t jinx it.”

Atsumu, completely lacking any kind of survival instincts, poked her side with the handle of his spoon. “C'mon, it can't be that bad."

(Y/n) lifted her head just enough to glare at him. “Try me, Miya.”

Suna didn’t even look up. “If I were you, I’d stop while I’m still breathing.”

There was a short silence after that. Not a tense one, but still a kind that could either end in forgiveness or a fork to the neck.

(Y/n) closed her eyes. Debated taking a nap right there on the kitchen table.

She actually felt somewhat at peace. In fact, she could already feel sleep trying to pull her into its warm embrace…

Only for Atsumu to open his mouth.

Classic.

“…Can't ya hold it in? You know, like pee?”

Her eyes opened. Slowly. Like they didn’t want to witness what was happening.

Suna’s spoon clinked softly against his bowl.

Osamu turned off the stove.

How he’d asked that—with the confidence of a man who had never once known humility—she had no bloody (hah, get it?) idea.

(Y/n) slowly lifted her head from the table to look at him. Her expression was that of a disappointed teacher who knew her student had failed without even opening the exam.

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”

Atsumu frowned, genuinely offended. “What? ’M just askin’! God forbid a guy wants to learn about the female anatomy.”

“You’ve spent plenty of time learning about the female anatomy.”

Her voice was dry enough to peel paint.

Suna sniggered. Even Osamu huffed a laugh, turning back to his pan with the tiniest smirk.

Atsumu leaned back, draping one arm over the back of his chair, the other lifting in a lazy shrug. “Touché.”

(Y/n) almost growled.

First, because of Atsumu's sly little smirk. Second, because her cramps were flaring again, a sharp jab low in her abdomen, and she pressed her palm against the spot like she could will it into submission. It didn’t help. Nothing helped. Not while these three were talking like a panel of underqualified doctors.

Suna glanced up, judgement written all over his face. “Did you skip sex ed or something? Pretty sure they teach this stuff in high school.”

“Fuck sex ed,” Atsumu grumbled, sitting up straighter. “That didn’t teach us shit. They just—okay, they told us periods happened once a month and showed us how to put a condom on a banana. What was I supposed to learn from that?”

He was getting defensive now, which was rich coming from the guy who had just confused menstruation with bladder control.

Suna just stared at him and droned, “Pretty sure that’s not all they taught.”

“Might as well have been,” Atsumu groused. “Anyway. How long does it last? A week, right? Are ya bleedin’ that whole time?”

(Y/n) yawned into her sleeve. The movement made her wince. Her lower back felt like it had been kneaded by a truck.

“More or less,” she mumbled. “Some people less, some people more. Depends on each person, I guess.”

“That’s so long,” he said, genuinely horrified. “That’s like… seven days.”

“I know how long a week is, Atsumu.”

“Hey, I’m empathisin’ here!” he insisted, like he was somehow doing her a favour. “If yer gonna be all pale and crabby and fainty once a month, I wanna be informed.”

“Did you just say ‘fainty’?” she asked, snorting despite herself.

Suna also snorted. “He did. Stupid and illiterate."

(Y/n) bit back a grin. It tried to creep up anyway, tugging at the corner of her mouth despite her cramps and general state of doom.

Across the table, Atsumu looked one second away from dumping the rest of Suna’s miso soup in his lap. His eye twitched. His grip on his chopsticks tightened. But then—miraculously—he exhaled, rolled his eyes, and moved on like the bigger person. Or at least, a slightly less dramatic one.

He leaned in again, weirdly serious, resting his elbows on the table like this was a press conference.

“Okay, but is it true that chocolate helps? Or is that just a myth?”

“Not a myth,” Osamu said before she could even open her mouth. He was gathering their empty plates now, calm and competent, the only twin with functioning brain cells, apparently.

(Y/n) nodded faintly, her cheek pressed to the table again. “Mhmm. Chocolate has magnesium, and magnesium helps cramps or whatever.”

She sounded exhausted. She was exhausted. Just sitting upright was work, and she's pretty sure her soup had gone lukewarm.

Suna shook his head, grave. “Atsumu, I’m being dead serious. How have you managed to live this long?”

“Quit treatin’ me like I’m stupid!” Atsumu snapped. “Is it really that weird for a guy to not know every single detail about periods?”

Suna and Osamu responded in the flattest unison possible:

“Yes.”

“Yeah.”

(Y/n) didn’t even lift her head. Just pinched the bridge of her nose with a quiet wince. “You asked me if I could hold it in like pee.”

“Alright, alright—I get it, ya can’t.” He clicked his tongue, shoved the rest of his omelette in his mouth and bit out, “remind me to never ask you guys a question again.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the resigned little laugh that slipped out. God, this was so dumb.

“Plus,” Atsumu added, gesturing toward Suna with his chopsticks like he was pointing out Exhibit A, “he has a sister! 'Course he knows about this stuff.”

Suna raised a brow. "So? You’ve had girlfriends before.”

Atsumu huffed, speaking between mouthfuls. “And? Believe it or not, periods are rarely a topic that come up over dinner.”

Osamu muttered under his breath, disbelieving, “You’ve taken girls to dinner?”

(Y/n) scoffed, practically sneered. “Yeah. If by ‘dinner’ he means treating them to a takeout. As aftercare, probably.”

Atsumu turned to glare at her. “First callin’ me dumb, and now yer slut shamin’? I can't catch a break around 'ere."

“If the shoe fits, pretty boy.”

Atsumu narrowed his eyes. “Y’know, usually I wouldn’t mind that insult, but now…”

(Y/n) arched a brow.

He wisely shut his mouth.

Osamu, mercifully, set a plate of tamagoyaki in front of her with a chuckle. “Eat first,” he said gently, like speaking to a wounded animal. “Murder him later.”

(Y/n) sighed and picked up her chopsticks, her body aching in about six different places.

It was stupid. It was ridiculous. They were idiots.

Well—Atsumu was an idiot.

And yet—somewhere under the cramps and the fog and the hormonal death wish—she felt a teensy bit better.

She didn’t say anything about it. Just ate in quiet, measured bites, letting the chatter around her hum like white noise.

Breakfast eventually fizzled out.

The conversation shifted—something about a failed group project Suna was in and Osamu’s new beef with the washing machine—but (y/n) stopped listening somewhere around her third bite of tamagoyaki. The fog in her brain was thick, and now that she was full and slightly less homicidal, the urge to melt into the couch was overwhelming.

Her body ached in quiet, pulsing waves. Her cramps had dulled into a background throb, and her limbs felt too heavy to carry around anymore. She sat there, cheek resting against her knuckles, listening to the boys bicker like background static.

And for once, she didn’t mind the noise.

There was something weirdly… safe about it all. The way none of them flinched. The way no one had made it weird. No awkward silences. No eye rolls or "TMI"s or other terms she’d grown used to from guy friends in the past. Just chit-chat. Sass. A little idiocy. And a lot of miso.

It was...comforting.

She didn’t say anything, just picked up her bowl, rinsed it quietly, and slipped out of the kitchen. She could still hear them talking behind her as she shuffled to the living room—the scrape of chairs, Osamu sighing about the state of the sink, and Suna muttering something about group chats and late assignments.

The couch greeted her like a long-lost lover. She curled up against the cushions and sighed—body sore, brain mushy, warmth spreading across her spine like syrup.

A few moments later, footsteps padded into the room. She didn’t look up. Just hummed in vague acknowledgment.

“Didn’t think you’d make it more than ten minutes before crashin’,” Atsumu said casually, plopping down beside her with a dramatic exhale like he was the one in agony.

(Y/n) said nothing. Just shifted slightly… and let her head fall into his lap.

She felt him flinch. Just a tiny, startled twitch beneath her ear. Not enough to move her, but enough to make her smirk.

“Well this is new,” he muttered.

She didn’t bother opening her eyes. “What is?”

“You,” he said. “One minute yer prickly and murderous. The next yer all cuddly.”

She yawned. “That also comes with being on your period. Make the most of it.”

He huffed a laugh, and she could hear the smirk in his voice when he replied, “don't hafta tell me twice."

She didn’t have the energy to sass him back. She was too warm. Too tired. Too settled.

Then—gently, almost cautiously—his fingers threaded through her hair.

Oh.

Oh.

Yes.

Hell to the yes.

The softest, most docile sigh slipped past her lips like a fully tamed animal. His hand moved again, slow and rhythmic, combing through her strands like it was the most natural thing in the world.

She could feel sleep dragging her under, heavy and blissful and sweet.

“Don’t stop,” she mumbled.

“Bossy,” he said, a smile in his voice.

(Y/n) creaked one eye open and mustered the weakest glare known to man.

Atsumu chuckled. “Kiddin’. Go to sleep.”

He pushed her hair back from her forehead with an easy sweep of his fingers, and her eyes fluttered shut.

Yep. Fully domesticated.

Sleep took her quietly, tucked into the warmth of his lap, with his fingers still in her hair and the distant sound of dishes clinking somewhere behind her.

[coldfanbou]

Fair is Fair

We get to learn a little bit about Mina in this fic. Turns out she's a little needy.

Length 2.3K

Mina X Mreader

Previous Part

Next Part

Once Chaeyoung had left your home, you lay on the couch, wanting nothing more than to relax when your phone began vibrating. It was a series of messages. “Why did Momo get a turn?” was the first one that got your attention. You wonder who would know about your night with Momo and Jihyo. Curiosity gets the best of you, and you open your messages. You scroll to the top and realize it’s Mina messaging you. The rest of her messages were her complaints about being left out.

“I’m not the one that decided that,” you reply.

“Well, I want a turn; it’s been so long since I’ve been with someone.” She texts back before she begins calling your phone. You pick up the phone and instantly hear Mina's voice come through, “It’s not fair that Momo gets to have fun with you. We share everything, and she shouldn’t be able to have fun with you alone.” she repeats, her voice high. Mina’s whines were odd to you. From the small amount of time you had spent together, she had acted much more like a lady, so her complaining like a bratty child was weird, for lack of a better word. 

“Mina, things just happened. What do you want me to do about it.”

“Tonight, you and I are going out, no ifs, ands, or buts.”

“Mina,”

“No, we’re going out.” Mina whines, the soft pounding of something heard in the background. On the other side of the phone, Mina kicked her feet against her bed, cheeks full of air as she pouted. “I want to go out tonight, and then we can spend the night at your place. Chaeyoung got to fuck you last night, why can’t I?” You question the last part, your mind working slowly until you figure out that the friend Chaeyoung had been talking about was, in fact, Mina.  “Chaeyoung was showing us pictures last night, and I couldn’t believe it was you. I want my turn now!” She whined, kicking her feet again. 

You reluctantly agree, too tired to put up a fight. “Alright, fine, but you plan the date.” 

“Really?” Mina almost shouts, the glee in her voice ringing out.

“Yes, give me the details, and I’ll meet you there.” You were already tired of the situation. You place your phone on the coffee table before shutting your eyes. 

When you wake up from your short nap you have several messages on your phone from Mina, including the time and place for your date. You check the clock and realize there isn’t much time left. You get yourself ready, already regretting giving in to Mina so easily. You head to the address Mina had sent you. Arriving at the address, you double-check to make sure it’s the right place. You question Mina’s choice of a Lego cafe, but soon enough, you see her arrive, standing outside the cafe and typing something out on her phone. Your phone buzzes a second later, “Where are you?” 

“Okay, guess this is the right place.” You say to yourself before getting out of the car. You walk up to Mina, who smiles when she sees you. She’s dressed casually, wearing oversized jeans and a hoodie.

“Let’s go!” Mina says, taking your hand and heading inside, grabbing a table for the two of you. 

“What kind of place is this Mina?”

“It’s a Lego cafe,” Mina says, stating the obvious.

“I know that, but why here? Why have the date here?”

“It’s fun,” Mina says, pulling out a set of legos from under her sweater. You feel like you’re in another world as Mina begins playing with the set. Looking at the box, you see it’s a car she’s building. You’re more confused than anything else; you never would have thought Mina would be interested in something like this. Seeing her pull a box set from under her sweater was another can of worms in and out of itself. You watch the young woman smile to herself as she puts the pieces together. It was cute, almost innocent. You feel out of place as she continues to build the car. “We’ll get you a set,” Mina says without looking up at you. 

As the waiter comes around, Mina takes charge, ordering coffee for both of you and a Lego set for you to work on. You sighed briefly, “I didn’t expect this would be our date. I thought you’d want to do something else.”  You pick at the set Mina had chosen for you; it was a set of flowers, something simple.

You build your set while watching Mina work on hers, “Do you do this often?”

She nods, focusing intently on the tiny stickers she had to place on the Lego pieces. “Yeah, I think it’s fun building these sets. Most guys don’t really like it, though; they think it’s childish.”

“It kind of is, but if you enjoy it, you should be able to share that.” You reply as you look through the instructions. “If they don’t like it and don’t want to date you because of it, that’s their problem.” Mina glances up from her set, looking at you before continuing to build it.

“Thanks,” she murmurs. “It’s peaceful building these,” Mina pauses as the coffee arrives, taking her time to sip from the hot cup before returning to her build.

“I thought you would just want to get straight to business. Not go on a date first.”

“I-well, I thought it would be rude to go to your house and do it.” Mina stammers, “I thought this would be better; besides, I wanted to build this set. I’ve had it for a month.” Mina says, trying to give another reason for the date. She hoped you wouldn’t see the price tag on the box. She had bought the Lego set before coming here. After your call with her had ended, she got flustered and went out to buy it. 

“So what else do you like?” 

“Games, video games,” Mina says, drawing out another question from you. “I like Minecraft; it’s a lot like Legos. I like building things more than going on adventures.” You nod along and continue asking Mina questions about herself. She slowly grows more comfortable as the date goes on, and once she finishes her build and you finish yours, the two of you decide to leave.

Mina places her little car in the back seat, with your plant, staring at them as you drive home, hoping nothing happens to them.

As you arrive in the parking lot, Mina slips a pill into her mouth and swallows it, preparing herself for a long evening. The effects are immediate as she feels her body begin to heat up. Walking to the door, Mina grows anxious, her body growing needy.

Reaching the door, Mina throws herself at you, wrapping her arms around your neck as she presses her lips against yours. “Let’s get started,” You struggle to open the door but eventually manage it, moving inside with Mina. She grabs your hands, moving them under her sweater. You feel her toned stomach as she drags your arms up her body until you reach her modest chest. Mina cranes her neck, letting you mark her body with hickeys as you lead her to the bedroom. Mina’s nipples rub against the palm of your hand, and she lets out a light moan as you squeeze her breasts. You push the door open and place Mina on the bed. You pull the hoodie off her before continuing to mark her body, her moans growing louder as you tease her nipples. Mina holds you against her chest, wanting to keep you there forever as you begin tugging at her jeans. 

Mina grabs your hands, stopping your advance. When you look up at her, her eyes are already on yours. “Before we keep going, I want to tell you something, but you have to promise not to tell anyone else.” 

“Okay, I promise,” You state to her, staring into her eyes and creating a sense of trust.

“Momo doesn’t know about this, but…” Mina’s face becomes flushed as she struggles to finish her sentence. “Can I call you Daddy? I like it better this way; please take the lead.”

For the second time today, Mina stunned you. “Uhm, sure, that’s fine.” This version of Mina was a lot different from the woman you had sex with a couple of weeks ago. Whereas when she was drunk, she degraded herself, Mina seemed more soft when she was sober. Mina giggles as she unbuttons her jeans and lets you pull them off. You become distracted, thinking to yourself how Mina has been the opposite of what you expected of her as she reaches down and rubs your bulge. 

“You’re so big,” Mina whispers, “Can I see it, Daddy?” You nod and lay back on the bed, letting Mina pull your pants off you; she slowly moves her head over your crotch, her long fingers pulling at your underwear. A smile creeps onto Mina as she tugs at your underwear, and your cock flops out. She grasps it gently, her hand moving along it slowly.

“Keep going, Mina, that feels good.” You groan.

The young woman drips her saliva onto your cock, spreading it out as she runs her hand along her shaft. “I want you, Daddy, in here.” She says, placing her other hand on her stomach. Mina stares into your eyes as she strokes your cock, her body growing hotter as she becomes more eager to move on. Mina flashes her gummy smile as she uses both hands to stroke your cock, rubbing the tip with the palm of one as the other runs along your shaft. You groan Mina’s name, the pleasure flowing through you as she leans down and kisses the tip. Mina smiles after, feeling shy. 

“Mina, I want you.” The young woman’s heart skips a beat after hearing your order. She straddles you, rubbing her lips along your cock and moaning as she prepares herself. The heat coming from your cock, makes Mina want more. She doesn’t wait long before lifting herself and rubbing the tip between her folds. Light moans escape Mina’s lips as she slowly sinks onto your cock, her walls squeezing your shaft as she slips more into her cunt. Mina places her hands on your chest as she begins to feel full. 

Mina rides you, her hips rocking back and forth as she leans back. “You’re so big,” she groans. The young woman bites her lip as she moves up and down your shaft, slowly putting more force into her bounce as she takes every inch inside her. “Mmm, Daddy,” Mina moans, her strength slowly leaving her body, leaving you to thrust into her. You roll Mina onto her back and lift her lower half, continuing to thrust into her. Mina’s moans only get louder; she grips the bedsheets, getting closer to cumming. She wraps her arms around you, holding you tightly as you ram more of your length inside her. “D-daddy, you’re so deep,” she whines, her legs wrapping around you. You kiss Mina’s neck and listen to her whimpers. Your hands grip the back of her thighs; they quiver as you push Mina closer to her climax.

“Cum for me, baby. Cum for Daddy,” you growl in a low voice. Mina’s body tenses, and she cries out as she cums. You continue thrusting into her tightening cunt, driving Mina mad. She continues to moan, “Daddy, wait!” She whines, her body becoming overrun by the pleasure. 

“I’m going to cum, Mina,” you groan. 

“I want Daddy’s cum. I want it inside me,” Mina moans, the pleasure breaking her as she feels your cock throbbing inside her. As you're about to cum you bury yourself inside Mina, your cum pouring into her cunt. “Oh, Daddy, more,” Mina moans. You kiss the young woman, shutting her up for a moment as you enjoy her body, her cunt milking you.

“Does my baby want more?” You ask, running your finger between Mina’s tits. 

“Yes, Daddy. Please give me more,” Mina says, biting her fingertip as she uses her other hand to spread her lips. “Please fuck me again, Daddy.” The sight of your seed leaking out of her cunt gets you hard again, and you slide back into Mina, gripping her ass as you begin thrusting again. 

As you fuck her to another climax, you feel something rub against your finger. Moving your hand just a little, you feel a plug. “Does my baby have a plug in her?” You whisper into Mina’s ear. 

“Yes, Daddy.” Mina says with a pout, “I want to save that for later.” she says softly. You leave it alone for now and continue fucking the young woman until you’re both exhausted. As you lay beside Mina, your chest heaving, you comment on her other side.

“This is a lot different from our first time together. So you have Sharon, and this is Mina?”

Mina looks away from you, covering her face. “It’s only when I’m drunk. I say a lot of things when I’m drunk.” She admits.

You laugh at Mina, “Oh yeah? Like ���cum inside my slutty pussy’ or ‘fuck me like a whore’”  Mina’s mind flashes back to the first time you had sex, and she grows more embarrassed. “So, which do you like more?” You lean in closely to Mina’s ear and run your hand along her body, pushing two fingers inside her cum-filled cunt. “Or is it both?” You ask her, “Are you my slutty baby?” Mina gasps, and her body shivers. She bites her lip and nods.

“I like both,”

[the-kr8tor]

High on the Feeling

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Summary: Hobie goes to the dentist and you leave with a very giggly and sweet Hobie high on anesthesia.

Word count: 2.4k

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, cw blood, cw food mentions, talks of marriage, lovestruck! Hobie, fluff.

Navigation

Octobie 🎸

You've practically flipped through every single magazine in the dentist’s waiting room while you wait for Hobie. He's been complaining about the annoying ache in his molar that has hindered him from doing his responsibilities for the past few weeks. And after some convincing on your end (and a lot of smooches and coddling), he finally accepted that he needed a tooth extraction.

Now, you'd think that with his abilities that a regular ol' anesthesia wouldn't even work on him. But judging from the lack of swearing and screaming behind the tooth shaped door, you and Hobie's hypothesis were dead wrong.

You pick at your nails while you wait, and listen to the cheery pop song that's starting to make you more annoyed than the hospital-like smell of the place. The walls are painted stark white with a bunch of Ikea bought shelves perched on it where a bunch of teeth related decor sits and a handful of picture frames filled with stock photos of smiling people. You feel unnerved by the choice in decoration. Couldn't they just put infographics on how to properly brush your teeth like a normal dentist?

As the thought passes by your mind, the tooth shaped door opens and out comes Hobie stumbling over his own feet. Boots stomp loudly on the tiled floors, and you immediately run towards him to catch his flailing body.

Thankfully, you catch him in time, his head falls on your shoulder as his arms fall limp on his sides. His muffled groans reverberate, making you turn towards the rushing dentist assistant with her hands frantically pushing a wheelchair that you surmise was supposed to be Hobie's ride out.

“Is everything okay?” You ask both the nurse and Hobie, who's basically laying his entire weight on you. You feel his drool leaking onto your shirt. Or his shirt for that matter.

“I'm sorry, he just launched himself out of the wheelchair!” She sighs tiredly. “He keeps saying that London needs him. And that he's Spider-Man.”

Your eyes widen for a second before fixing your expression. “...Oh,” you say, laughing nervously. You put your arms under his armpits to hold him better. But it doesn't make it any easier to carry all 6 feet and three inches of Hobie. “How did it go? Is he alright? Except for being a drama queen.” You joke so that the woman forgets what Hobie told her.

Fortunately, she chuckles. “Yeah, the procedure went well. Although, he was a lightweight with the anesthesia. Like he was out out.”

“Really?” You furrow your brows questioningly while you hobble towards the wheelchair to sit him down or your hold on him will fail since he's tethering to the side now. “I thought you might've needed more of it than less.”

“Us too, he's just a bit loopy but he'll be okay after a few hours.” She helps you put Hobie on the chair, he falls unceremoniously on it with a clatter of metal. “I suggest you drive him home.” She winces when Hobie mumbles something incoherent with a giggle right after. He looks like a happy camper.

“Yeah, for sure.” You think he looks adorable with him looking like he's high up in cloud nine. He seems fine except for his droopy eyes and mouth, and all the drool pooling in the corner of his lips. At least he's not in pain anymore. Taking a handkerchief from your jean pocket, you gently dab at the corner of his lips, to which he hums appreciatively. “Thank you, I'll take it from here.”

She smiles as she hands you the push handles of the wheelchair over to you. “Of course—oh, I almost forgot. We kind of promised him ice cream.”

“Coconut!” Hobie suddenly yells, perking up from his seat with wide eyes. The other people waiting in the room jumps from their seats. If something bad happens to him because of the anesthesia, you're going to sue this place to the ground. You place your hand on his shoulder, which he immediately calms down and looks up at you with stars in his eyes.

“Coconut ice cream to be exact.” The nurse gives you an apologetic look.

“Good thing I know where to get some.” You smile down at Hobie, only to find him boyishly smiling up at you.

“You're pretty.” He whispers breathlessly like you've taken the air from his lungs. His hand holds the back of yours, patting it softly. He looks as handsome as ever even with a cotton ball shoved in his mouth.

“Thank you, Hobs, you're pretty too.” You feel like melting on the spot as he smiles at you. “Let's go home first and then I'll get you a whole pint.” Hopefully he'll be sober by then, although you're loving his lovestruck gaze on you.

“Home?” He asks while you push him towards the exit.

“Yeah, we live together, Hobie.” You giggle, nudging the top of his head with your chin. The bells hanging above the door jingles when an attendant opens it for you. The cooling autumn air greets you and Hobie.

“Woah.” He sighs like he couldn't believe your words. “We married?”

You pause right next to the van, heart squeezing in your chest. “Oh, Hobie.” His question is the most adorable thing you've ever heard.

“Oh no,” he utters like he hurt you. Stumbling out of the chair, he turns towards you to rub your arms just like he always does whenever you need comfort.

“Sit down, Hobie, you might fall—” His hands cradling your cheeks stop you from continuing. You see his eyes well up with tears, pretty hazel eyes glimmering under the afternoon sun. “Oh, baby, don't cry.”

“We're not married?” His lips wobbles, “that's bonkers.”

“Do you want us to be—?”

“Yes.” He says before you could finish your sentence. You hold him by his waist, helping him with his balance.

You chuckle with a soft smile, hand reaching up to rub your thumb along his chin as you peck the tip of his nose. “Tell you what, we'll talk about it in the car.”

“Really?” Hobie's eyes light up. You've only seen him like this whenever he gets home early on patrol only to see you waiting for him happily.

“Yes really. We’ll feed our guests coconut ice cream.”

He drops his head back, chuckling deeply. You raise his head back up in fear of him choking on the cotton ball. Once his head is upright on his neck once again, he grins at you. “You know ‘m Spider-Man, right, love?”

Your guffaw echoes around the parking lot, “off you go in the van, Spider-Man.” Guiding him towards the van, you turn the corner to open the passenger door for him.

Hobie takes a big whiff, and you look on with an endeared smile. “I smell pine.”

“Yeah, it's the scent thing we bought at the gas station.” You point at the swinging 2d pine tree in the rearview mirror, other hand placed on the small of his back, making sure that he doesn't fall.

“I don't fancy pine.” He pouts uncharacteristically, making you clamp down your lips to quiet your giddy laughter.

“It was the only thing available. We'll get a new one, okay?” Kissing his shoulder, ready to guide him on the seat, he leans in for a proper one but you move away before he could. He pouts again, brows fully knitted together. “Sorry, but we're in public, Hobs, and you have a bloody cotton in your mouth.” You really want to kiss him, you really do, but he probably can't tell his right from his left right now.

Hobie scrunches his nose, hand reaching up his mouth but you stop him halfway before he could yank it out. “Why?” Swatting your hand away, he playfully fights with you.

You continue to fight with his long arms, you two must've looked like a couple of kids baby fighting in the middle of the parking lot with your hands slapping his own away. “Because, you can't— Hobie! You can't take it off!”

“But I want to snog you.” If it wasn't for his haze filled eyes, you'd think that he's playing with you.

“I promise you can snog me as much as you want later when you're well aware of your surroundings—!” His hands manage to grab hold each of your wrists, braceleting his fingers around them. You fight a giggle, acting like you mean business but the amusement in your eyes says otherwise. “Get in the car please.”

“You promise later?” Hobie clicks his forehead against your own. Eyes fully closed, sighing quietly.

Rubbing his back, you let him calm down from his high for a moment. “Yes, I promise—” you hear soft snores. “Are you asleep?!”

After wrangling Hobie into the passenger seat, making sure that his seatbelt is properly settled, you finally pull out of the parking lot. Once you manage to get back on the road, you glance towards Hobie, who's looking out the window with his face squished on the glass.

“You okay over there?” Patting his leg, you get his attention, and you swear he looked like he just realized you were in the car with him when his entire expression lit up like a billboard in New York. “I wish I had a camera right now.”

“What for?” He places his head on the head rest, cheek smooshed on the leather, eyes sparkling as he looks at you softly.

“To take a picture of you.”

“I want to take a picture of you.” He says softly, “a million pictures of you.”

“Can one of those pictures be with you too?” You grin, trying to focus on the road ahead instead of looking at the adorable sight next to you.

“If you want to.” His eyes flutter close, but he's clearly fighting sleep.

“Well, I want to.” You stop the car when the light turns red, a perfect opportunity to hold his hand. “You can nap if you want. I'll wake you up when we're home.”

“I want to pick flowers for you.” You swear your heart jumps out of your chest. “But only your favourites.”

“And I'll get you coconut ice cream as much as you want.”

His eyes closes to the hum of the engine. “I'll share it with you.”

“I know you will, Hobs.” Kissing the back of his hand, you let him go just as when the light turns green.

Hobie has always been sweet on you, but this time, he's beyond just being sweet. Your teeth feel like it's rotting from how incredibly saccharine he is. And you love every second of it, but you wish that the meds wear off so you could be with the same Hobie who hogs the blanket at night and who wakes you up with his cold feet against your thigh.

—

You cuddle close to Hobie whilst you feed him spoonfuls of coconut ice cream on the sofa. The anesthesia has completely worn off, sobering up to his old self. You've given him his pain meds and you've lit up a scented candle for him to relax more. Crumpet sleeps next to him, face snuggled up against his side, unbothered by everything that's happening around her. Your head finds penchant atop his chest as his palm rests above your stomach after he casually flung your shirt over his hand to feel your warmth.

“How's the pain?” You ask, while he draws patterns over your soft skin.

“Throbbin’, a three right now. Nothin' I can't handle though.” He says while you scoop out another spoonful for him. “I think they took more than one tooth.” He says while he opens his mouth for you to feed him another dollop.

“Do you want me to check?” You tease, pointing at his bottom lip with the spoon, looking up at him with a smirk.

“Maybe later,” he squeezes your nose before letting go with a chuckle. “What else did I say other than tellin' people my secret?”

“They didn't believe you anyway, thanks to the meds.” A drop of ice cream falls from the bowl down to your hand, licking it off, you let the sweet treat melt in your mouth after giving it a taste. He looks at you like you're the dessert. Smiling, you perch both of your legs on his lap, to which he just grins wider at. “You really want to know?”

“Was I that embarrassin’?” Hobie nudges the crown of your head with his nose to tell you that it's his turn to be fed. Arm pulling you impossibly closer to him.

“Blackmail worthy,” you joke, you move to take another mouthful of ice cream but he beats you to it by taking your wrist to lead the spoon towards his mouth instead. “Rude.” You giggle and he pinches your side.

“C’mon, tell me.” He wipes away a bit of cream from the corner of your lips with his thumb, which he quickly licks away, flustering you in your seat. He smirks victoriously, eyebrows raising smugly. He knows what he's done.

“Fine,” you laugh, pushing at his chest lightly. “you asked if we were married. And you cried when I said no.”

“That's… the right reaction.” He tilts his head in the same way like he's hiding a surprise for you. The last time he did this was when he got you your favourite pasta from a restaurant across the city.

You narrow your eyes at him. “What do you mean?” Your heart thuds loudly in your chest.

“Even my high self knows about it.” He side glances at you, while you're left pondering what he meant, he takes the bowl of ice cream from your hands. “My turn to feed you, lovie.”

“Hobie,” your eyes shimmers under the cinnamon smelling candle light, you hug his middle with a shaking arm. “What do you mean?”

He makes a face, shrugging while a bright smile spreads across his face. “Nothin', love.”

You laugh giddily, waking up Crumpet from her nap. “Okay then—wait, you're fucking with me aren't you?” Narrowing your eyes, you shut your mouth as he tries to feed you a scoop.

“Open up,” Hobie holds the spoon up for you, winking as you gaze at him softly. You still don't open your mouth, so with a glint in his eyes, he leans close to you, smashing his lips to yours, tasting the coconut on your lips while you laugh against his lips as the kiss turns from a playful one to a gentle, loving kiss.

Support banner by @/cafekitsune

Custom banners by @/mushroom-graphics-allotment

[awakittie]

hey i would like to make a request but i couldn't find your rules so if you don't feel comfortable with it you can ignore this.

jinx x reader where the reader is jinx's girlfriend but they are at odds and haven't spoken in a few days and the reader goes to a nightclub and dances sensually just to piss jinx off and make her jealous so she roughly fucks the reader as punishment and they end up reconciling in the end

wc. 2.9k

warnings. doomed yuri, toxic jinx, toxic relationships, honestly everyone is mean in this, implied drinking, fingering, brief mention of death, ooc (especially lux), lux is jinxs’ ex, modern au, implied cheating

( divider creds: @cafekitsune )

the morning beams through the drawn curtains, doing little to protect you from the hot rays of sun. you accept defeat after a few tosses and turns, sitting up and wiping the sleep out of your eyes. it’d been days now, days since you’d stormed out of her apartment.

her lack of communication had been the last tick in your ticking time bomb that day, and you were just about ready to explode when she’d gotten all jelly at you dancing up a storm with your friend. her slim face shivered with anger, and she seethed through clenched teeth — when you asked her what was bothering her, hand on her thigh, she’d just turned away pouting.

jinx always had trouble with being dismissive, you know this. you’ve known about her past issues with relationships (not romantic!), but that’d never warranted her treating you like this.

sometimes she even uses the excuse that it’s her first relationship, ‘i don’t know how the fuck you want me to improve when this is my first time, and you’re on my ass about being better 24/7!’ or whatever she said.

something about giving her a break, too.

so that’s what you did.

drunken curses, middle fingers and slamming doors later and you’re stumbling down the street. it was easy to find where you were going when you were so honed in on her. like a moth to a flame, you arrive at lux’s house — she says about 3-3:30 in the morning, the blank stare she gave you with the information proof enough she didn’t appreciate it in the slightest.

your best friend had opened the door, groggy from sleep with hair sticking up on one side, coated in sweat. all you can think about is the sleep she must’ve had while you were busting your ass off arguing with jinx.

you turn to face the time on the clock, and—

BANG!

“it’s 5 in the evening, you know that?” she stands by the door, hand placed on her hip like a scolding mother would to their child. she shakes her head, silky light hair slipping over her shoulders.

“yeah, yeah..” you sigh, letting yourself flop back on the bed.

“don’t yeah yeah me,” she hisses, swinging off the door frame to saunter over to the closet in the corner of the room. “we’re going out tonight. but i’m starting to reconsider if you’re going out looking like that.”

you hear the smile behind her voice, and you scoff out a laugh, rolling your eyes up to the popcorn ceiling that groans under the forces of the wind outside.

speaking of — you sit up just enough to get a good look at her, brows furrowing at her outfit of choice.

“going out where? going out in the freezing cold where it’s reaching ridiculous wind speeds?” you eye the white dress she adorns, the glitter bouncing off the furniture and reflecting tiny sparkles, like stars on the yellow walls.

she narrows her eyes at you inquisitively.

“to that one place. y’know the one downtown everyone’s buzzing about. durr.” she states it like it’s obvious what she’s talking about, crossing the room with a pep in her step.

“you act like i should know what you’re talking about.” you call out to her. your limbs ache, every inch of your body feels like you’re on fire, fingertips sizzling as you grasp the covers to pull them back.

“then get to know!” she counters, poking her head around the corner. “please get yourself ready, because i know how you are when you leave shit to the last minute.”

poking your tongue from between your lips, you gesture her away with a swat of your hand, like a lingering fly. she obliges, shutting the door behind her and you find yourself alone once again — too alone.

the silence feels deafening, and all you can think about is jinx, how she’d fill that void right up. when you reach for your phone you’re half expecting to see her notification pop up, on any account really.

but nothing.

those random pictures she sends you throughout the day? none. not even a text.

the last message sent was that night, it was you giving the final text that simply read ‘fuck you’. the two ticks beside the text tells you she read it.

a pang of embarrassment washes over you. that was corny as fuck.

you wonder what went through her head when she saw that. did it make her upset? did it make her happy? was she glad to have to not worry about you anymore?

you’ve thought about texting her, truthfully you’ve thought about it more than you probably should.

fuck, you need a night to yourself.

if a night to yourself means going out with your ex’s ex to a nightclub, you’re screwed.

which is where you find yourself now, sat at a table with a group of lux’s other friends. you don’t know these people, and you feel weird barging into their space. thankfully, they’re welcoming enough — as welcoming as shoving half empty cups in your hands can get.

with the designated job of being the bartender for the night, you don’t do much other than just sit around. you feel lifeless, like a robot programmed to respond only when spoken to — which wasn’t often as they’d typically look right through you in a conversation.

lux would give you soft glances every so often, asking if you’re okay, but you can tell she’s caught up in the rush of being with friends.

that’s okay.

this was suppose to be a night to yourself anyway, you tell yourself as you wander seamlessly over to the bar. you could indulge in a drink or two — you need it.

you were just about to order yourself a drink before lux came rushing over, hands clasping your shoulders and shaking you there. you balk, eyes wide at the sudden whiplash.

“you have no idea who i just saw!” she cries, laughing between laboured breaths. you eye her curiously.

she must be talking about an old friend from school or something, or maybe one of her old hook ups she’d forgotten the name of. typical lux.

“uhh, no, i don’t.” you cock your head before she’s reaching out to pinch your cheeks between her head, snapping your head to the right to see—

oh, fuck.

“of course she’s here.” you spit, now feeling yourself growing riled up. your fingertips buzz, and you feel all the emotions you’d felt from that argument simmer back up. you feel hot.

she looks how she usually does; hardened at the edges. her heavy boots sit idly against the table in front of her, ringed fingers curled over whatever blue concoction she’s drinking. she’s rocking her usual hard rock wardrobe, leather studded jacket slung lazily over her shoulders that rise and fall steadily as she takes in the stuffy environment.

“right?” lux whispers back, like jinx could hear her from across the busy room. “imagine she followed you, like some creepy stalker!”

she jeers, wiggling her fingers teasingly over your shoulder till you cringe away, swatting at her hand. you feel yourself shrink when jinx’s eyes pass yours. time seems to slow, and you swear you feel your heart drop into your stomach. she doesn’t seem too pleased to see you, top lip quirking up into a grimace when her blue eyes flit to lux sitting perplexed by your side.

she looks like she’d drop kick you in an instant if she reached you, and that thought alone is enough to give you an ego boost.

you bite back the smirk that threatens to part your lips, and you glance over at lux, turning between the two of you. jinx seems to have lost interest at this point, shaking her head and turning to take a sip from her miscellaneous drink.

fuck it.

“let’s dance,” you swoon, snatching lux’s hand into your own. she seems starstruck, gazing at you through a filter jinx no longer seems to view you through.

you’re typically way too nervous to be doing this, let alone dancing by yourself. you move against lux with a lack of confidence — truthfully it’s her doing all the moving; hands guiding your body against hers, sliding down to your hips when you bump closer, giggling like two schoolgirls over a collective crush.

you’re clumsy on your feet, always have been. it’s always been jinx to guide your dancing, ‘step on my feet’ she would giggle, holding your hand to her chest like something sacred.

it’s when lux presses closer, hand coming up to grasp for your jaw that you realise what you’re doing.

you near gag in her face, cringing away and shoving her with more force than you would’ve liked.

“wha—!” she gasps, arms open like you’d just offended her and the generations before her. “hey, what did i do?”

you hear her from over your shoulder as you rush out — out and more importantly away from everyone. you weave through the crowd, shoving past ignorant people when necessary and apologising when you should.

the bathrooms.

‘no one goes in there’ you tell yourself as you round the corner, nudging the door open with your shoulder. out of everywhere to be at a club, surely peoples options don’t narrow down to the bathrooms in the back, no?

you’re pretty fucking wrong. terribly wrong.

your hand flies up to your mouth instinctively at the smell radiating from the bathrooms and the sight of her, hunched over the sink. her knuckles are white with strain, pressed against the countertop where her bag sits against the wall.

she looks rough.

her eyes meet yours through the mirror, lips curling up in a half grimace — half smirk.

“i saw you.” her voice is raspy and broken, carrying the weight of all her emotions.

“i should hope so,” you shoot back, letting yourself slump against the wall, arms crossed over your chest. you feel exposed now, more than in that room full of strangers you don’t know.

yet you still feel at ease, somewhat.

jinx clicks her tongue, licking over her teeth before turning to lounge against the sink, body now turned to yours.

“you’re hard to miss dancing up her like that.” you can taste the bile that spits from her mouth with those words, and you outwardly flinch, nodding away like you understand her point.

because you do.

why were you dancing up her ex like you didn’t have a girlfriend waiting at home for you? sure, a negligent one but still a girlfriend. you’re no better than her for what you did.

you’re not sure if its the twenty odd cups of coke you had (stomach issues) or the stuffy air that seems to clog your lungs — but you feel the bile rise in your own mouth. you want to scream, you want to cry.

you want to hold her, tell her how sorry you are. you want to feel her on you, you want to hit her, scream in her face for how she’d made you felt.

“i miss you,” you tremble. your voice is small, just enough to be heard by the two of you and the two of you alone. “i really miss you.”

you don’t meet her eyes, gaze drawn to the mismatched tiling on the floor by your feet. you kick at the grime gathering there, finding particular interest in a small stone amongst the sound of her breathing and your own heartbeat in your ears. you could die right now.

“prove it.” her voice, low and raspy, cracks through the otherwise monotonous space. the air shifts, and you finally peer up behind your lashes to meet her gaze.

she’s got a sultry look about her, studs on her leather jacket glinting under the mustard yellow of the buzzing light from above. it bathes her in the ugliest colour, yet she’s still the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen.

you miss her.

you miss her, you tell yourself as you take a shaky step off of the wall.

you miss her, you justify as you crash into her body, arms slung around her shoulders as she smashes her lips to yours.

the slide of her hot mouth against yours is wet and sloppy, everything you’ve ever known with jinx. it feels comforting, like a bandaid soothed over a blister that’d been bugging you for days. her kisses have always been sloppy, but never like this. she seems to drown you, drown you in her love as she guides you against the sink, turning to cage you against it instead.

“i missed you,” you whisper between soft flicks of her tongue, taking it between your lips to suckle gently. she lets out a shaky sigh, slicking her bangs back with a trembling hand to reveal her sweaty forehead. she lets out a breathless snicker, brows drawing at the revelation like it’d hurt her.

her hands slide lower, lower till they find your hips, they roll forward to meet yours, rutting awkwardly, denim against your panties from where she’d hiked up your skirt.

you feel high, higher than you’d ever felt, higher than any drug could make you feel. a hand comes up to weave through your hair, the other leaving your hip to cup at the gap between the two of you. you jolt in her grasp, gasping out into her purple lips as she twists her head further into yours.

“i’ll take care of you,” she promises between sharp smacks of her lips, fingers drawing up and down your slit.

your legs tremble, ankles locking over the small of her back to bring her impossibly closer. you want to feel your nerves connect, you want to feel what she feels; know what makes her sad, happy, angry. you want to know what she enjoys and what she hates — you want to feel her on you.

“i want—“ your bottom lip wobbles, sucking in between your teeth when she teases at your entrance with a finger, now wrist deep in your underwear. “i want to feel you,”

something prods.

“you feel me yet?” she jeers with a sultry grin, watching as your eyes squeeze shut at the sudden invasion. you’re soaked enough to where it isn’t painful, but the stretch of her fingers is certainly something that always takes you by surprise.

your legs tremble at every thrust of her long fingers. they massage your walls in all the right ways, stroking down as they hit just that right spot — the one that gets you worked up and sweaty against her. your stale breaths ping pong between the two of you, and you’d find it disgusting how close you were had it been anyone else.

it will never be anyone else.

there’s only room for jinx— jinx jinx jinx jinx.

she’s all you can think of as you moan like some cheap whore, legs curling impossibly further, nudging her further and further into your space. her usually pale face is a hot pink, sweat dribbling down the side of her head in exertion. her fingers are coated in your slick, engulfed by your hot cunt that soaks up any ounce of dignity she swore she had left.

“you’re not seeing her again,” jinx grits her teeth, brows coming down over her eyes like the thought alone pushes her to the edge. “not after this.”

you nod, saying something instinctively under your breath in response to her nonsense babbling. she places a particularly harsh thrust that has your back straightening at attention, and her thumb meets your swollen clit.

“you hear me?” she pokes. “i’m all you need, you don’t need anything else. especially from some common whore like lux — what were you thinking?”

“i’m sorry,” you whisper, bringing a trembling hand up to cup her face. she meets your lips with her own with equal fervour, fingers pumping at an unstable pace. you feel that pit in your stomach coiling tighter and tighter, matching the rhythm of her thumb on your clit.

“ohhh, you’re sorry now?” she snickers, breaking from the kiss abruptly. her voice alone could get you off. “if you’re so sorry you’d come for me, wouldn’t you?”

“i want it—“ you gasp, meeting her hand with a sharp buck of your hips. you feel disgusting getting off in the club bathrooms, and it’s now that you’re on the brink of an orgasm you become hyper-aware of the space you’re in.

the blaring music thumping the walls, the dingy, musky smell coming from the bathrooms, the busted light trilling above the two of you. the indistinct chatter of other people outside.

you could get caught.

the thought does wonders, and your back arches, frame twitching further onto her fingers as you finally unravel. jinx lets out a sharp snicker, biting on her bottom lip as your nails dig into her back, cheek mushing into the leather on her shoulder. you sound like a straight up pornstar, something you should be ashamed of.

that would be if it wasn’t for her.

“i want you,” you finally conclude, legs dropping to her sides. your breath heaves, chest rising and falling at an uneven pace.

you wonder where lux is right now, if she’s looking for you — if anyone is looking for you, really. you doubt the sentiment. it doesn’t matter after all, all you need is jinx.

she withdraws her hand from your panties, fingers glistening with your slick, before she brings it to her mouth to engulf them between her lips. she closes her eyes, like blissed out on the taste before slowly withdrawing them, letting them release with a pop for emphasis.

“you’ve got me.”

A.N sorry this is bad, i’ve been pretty demotivated but i just rlly wanted to get this out. hehe doomed yuri

[thedarkdisgrace]

Ok, follow up post to the original cause I wanted to actually offer my analysis/interpretation on this.

I feel like this is a right/left brain analogy 🧵

Dazai covering his right side, the side supposedly responsible for the emotional & artistic things. It says alot about his mindset, accurate for that time.

It’s intriguing, then, Kouyou covers the “logical” side

I feel like this lends to why Chuuya & Kouyou do get along well. While both Chuuya & Kouyou are no doubt very intelligent (Asagiri literally refers to Chuuya as a genius) they both still lean very much into their emotional side as well. Even if Kouyou seemingly does so less.

Kouyou reveals herself, however, not only in her care for Chuuya but we mainly see it how she handled the situation with Kyoka.

She could have insisted Kyoka come back without ever changing her mind but when Dazai presents her with a way to save Kyoka from dark, she agrees quickly.

Kouyou clearly cares & wanted to help & protect Kyoka even if she went about it poorly. She was trying to help based on her past experiences, lest we forget that she tried to leave the mafia herself once, for *love* no less. She also tends to get emotional when talking about her past or her wish to help Kyoka.

But once she was presented with another solution, a far better one, she didn’t do “what’s best for the mafia”. Kouyou agreed to what was best for Kyoka & that was definitely a more emotional choice.

This is an area where Chuuya & Kouyou align. So, of course they would get along.

Chuuya always seems to find the balance between his logic and emotion. However, he can easily & often does lean more into his emotional side first, then his logical side.

It’s similar for Kouyou, even if we don’t see it as much from her.

Back to Dazai then, when he left the mafia & the cover on Dazai’s “emotional side” was gone Dazai seemed to also move more towards that balancing of the two sides.

He started off heavily relying on his logical brain & struggled emotionally. Often feeling numb or apathetic mostly, hence his suicidal ideation.

Then he meets Chuuya & this shifts. Chuuya forces him to experience new feelings. As Chuuya is a living breathing example of most things Dazai felt the world lacked. It opened Dazai to the idea that there is more to the world, there is more to *people*. Chuuya intrigues Dazai enough to make him want to live a little longer again. Chuuya gave him a reason to keep going, a promise of more.

From the moment he met Chuuya, it was a process of letting more & more emotions seep into his mind & his heart. We see how he feared for Chuuya in 15 even after they just met, even though Dazai *knew* it was a plan.

I might even venture to go as far as to say Dazai may not have feared for someone else’s life that hard before. It was a burst of unrecognizable emotions to him. After this, he only had more & more emotion seep in as the years went by. In Storm Bringer he was ready to sacrifice the city to give Chuuya a choice.

That relationship opened Dazai up to others later, namely Oda & Ango. Which only further encouraged the intermingling of his logical brain and his emotions. Then reaching the point at which the bandages were finally removed entirely and then he, like Chuuya, moved to striving to find the balance rather than relying on one side.

Bringing us back to current Dazai as he is still attempting to find that balance.

He still leans more towards his logical side. This, of course, in contrast to Chuuya who, while intelligent, more easily leans into the emotional.

Yet another thing between them that completes & balances each other. Soukoku will always pull the other back when drifting too far.

So, of course, Soukoku complement each other & it benefits them both.

Having Kouyou on Chuuya’s other side I think also does help Chuuya stay grounded while in the mafia. Chuuya isn’t one to lose who he is but I think having someone else who he knows *cares* like he does helps.

Now, additionally, if we apply this to Beast, I think this also says alot about beast Dazai & why Asagiri says beastzai would be the hardest for someone to portray.

Because *this* Dazai, is perhaps *too* far into his emotional side. He’s always intelligent but in beast, his actions aren’t fully logical, they’re emotional.

He appears cold & calculating as always but he saw another version of himself suffer the great loss of a best friend & allowed his emotional desire to prevent that from happening take control. Thus, his emotional side takes over, thus him covering the opposite side from canon Dazai, he’s covering his “logical” side.

I feel like this is the main difference between all the various Dazai we’ve seen.

PM Dazai relied heavily on his logical side, especially before meeting Chuuya. He rarely took emotion into account unless it involved the 3 people he actually cared for. We see him make emotional choices when it involves Chuuya, Oda, and Ango. Dazai did seem to let more and more emotion seep in over time as a result of knowing them, however, leading to that moment the bandages are removed.

Beastzai is leaning far too heavily into his emotional side, getting lost in it even. Acting solely on an emotional desire rather than a logical one. His desire to prevent a tragedy. He only was using his intellect to further that emotional desire.

Canonzai went through a steady progression, meeting Chuuya starts to open him up, this extending over time to Oda & Ango, leading to the cover on his “emotional” side being taken off.

But beastzai skipped all of that, all the *progression* to that point for canonzai & so beastzai just got all these intense emotions he never experienced before all at once when he saw canonzai’s memories & therefore he sunk far too deep, too quickly into his emotions.

Now current/ADA Dazai is the balance of the two extremes, and seemingly the closest to happiness.

ADA Dazai uses his logical brain as always but he also actually takes emotion into account as well and has more people he actually cares for now.

I think that says alot to the theme of bsd, leaning into that “everything is grey” dynamic. Everything is about the *balance* of things. Showcasing that anything in extremes in either direction doesn’t work.

Anyway, just some thoughts I had and interpretations of mine. Take them as you want, as always.

Oh and just to be clear, I don’t think Dazai was ever “emotionless”, even at his worse. Even if he was numb and apathetic. He was also lonely.

Just saying the more people he came to care about (Chuuya, Oda, Ango then later the ADA) the more he was able to feel a variety of emotion.

My original post:

[bunni-v1]

College au Ifa is the type to take you at a house party and make sure people see the hickey on ur neck in class the next day

Marking Your Territory

🍓I'm gonna kill Pinkie for this one that's all I'll say on that. I lost actual sleep writing this, and instead of napping I finished and edited it. Do not tell me I don't love you guys or Ifa because I am nothing if not dedicated to my gay little craft. Anyway, enjoy or this will be the last thing I ever post. If this flops it's on your hands that I disappear.

TW: NSFW; Drugs (mentioned); Alcohol use; slight dub-con (both are lightly buzzed); marking (lots of it); sex at a party (yippie!); grammar errors (edited but I'm one guy and this is seven thousand words)

Info: College AU; Ifa x Reader (main); Venti x Reader; Kazuha x Reader; Navia x Reader; Wriothesley x Reader; Alhaitham x Reader; Kaveh x Reader (all background ships)

Word Count: 7.6k Words

MDNI

You weren't the biggest fan of house parties, not for lack of trying. Navia had dragged you to a million places since you arrived at Sumeru Academia, always knowing 'a good place' to go to let loose. Venti too, once he finally got you out of your shell. They both insisted you were a fun drunk, the total life of the party once you let loose. Still, when you had a choice, you avoided them altogether. It was just too much. Too many smells, too many sounds, too many people. They made you feel like you were suffocating, regardless of whatever drug you were putting in your body to numb the anxiety.

You'd managed to masterfully avoid any house parties thanks to classes picking up, the perfect excuse to hide away at Puspa Cafe with your tentative boyfriend Ifa. He'd managed to convince you to go on more than a few dates with him now, and while nothing was made official, you were pretty sure he was inching in that direction. Regardless of whatever your relationship was right now, he always greeted you with the brightest smile when you walked through those cafe doors. As usual, he'd made space for you already, and your favorite cup of coffee was sitting in your spot, luring you to his side like a deadly trap.

"Evenin'," He greets with his regular low drawl, scootching his chair just a little closer to yours, enough to wrap his arm around you in a side hug.

You lean into the touch automatically, stress leaving you all at once, "Evening, Ifa. Studying working out for you today?"

He sighs, heavy and tired. He was reviewing the same thing he had been all week, and it was starting to wear on his seemingly unending patience. Instead of complaining about it, which you know he wants to do more than anything, he just kisses your temple. Pushing the book back a little as if dismissing it in favor of paying attention to you.

"Big test comin' up," he hums, "lets not talk about that, though. You busy this weekend?"

You quirk an eyebrow at him, and he smiles innocently. Weekend outings with him had become normal now, despite Navia's complaints about feeling 'abandoned' by you. You knew she wouldn't end up lonely by the time morning came, so it was easy to brush off her guilt-tripping. Besides, Ifa was always fun to be around, taking you to so many different places to do so many new things. He knew Sumeru better than you did, having been here for so long, so you always got a little giddy when he asked for your weekend plans.

You shake your head, bringing your coffee mug to your lips, "Nothing much, just gotta peer review something for Venti for that god-awful poetry class, but I can do that anytime. Why're you asking?"

"Playing dumb is cute," he snorts, ruffling your hair playfully, "I wanted to take you somewhere."

"Hmmm... alright, I guess I can spare you some of my precious free time," you reply haughtily.

An annoyed sigh with no real malice behind it, "A friend of mine is throwing a party on Saturday, and I was thinking it would be a good way to... introduce you. They've been bothering me about it since our first date, and I don't think it's fair to hold off on it any longer."

Your heart skips a beat, both at the idea of having to go to a party with a ton of strangers and at the fact that he wants you to meet his friends. On one hand, it's incredibly sweet that he not only talks about you to his friends but he's been talking about you since your first date. You're at least important enough that the people he's close to know about you enough to ask. On the other hand, if you go to a party and Navia finds out, she's gonna be undeniably pouty. Not to mention parties really weren't your thing.

Ifa seems to sense your inner conflict as soon as it pops up into your mind, a hand coming across the table to gently squeeze your own. He gives you a little reassuring smile, warm as the summer sun and gentle as a breeze. He never fails to worry about you or account for your discomfort. You know all you have to say is no, and he'll find some other way for you to meet his friends on your own terms. Yet, you can't find it in yourself to deny him when he looks at you like that. So much love and care behind his pretty teal eyes.

"Sounds like fun," You smile, squeezing his hand back, "I'll tell you now, though, I'm not the biggest fan of parties..."

He smirks, leaning his head on his hands, "Never could've guessed. You actually seem like quite the party animal."

"Oh, shut it," You scold, going for another sip of your coffee to hide the grin growing on your face.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

You turn your body from left to right in the mirror, trying to decide if the skirt you were wearing was too risky or not. It hid everything it needed to, but all it would take was a light breeze and you'd flash the whole of Sumeru with your lacy panties. Navia stands behind you proudly, despite this, completely satisfied with her work.

You couldn't keep it from her if you tried, so you folded and asked her for help. While she was huffy and pissy for the first little while, the second you asked her for advice on what to wear, she was excitedly leaping at the chance to strip you down and dress you up like a doll. Your laciest underwear, your (her) tiniest skirt, and a cute top with platforms to match. You looked hot, but... maybe it was too much? You didn't want to give Ifa's friends the wrong impression of you, or throw Ifa off too much with how different you look now.

Navia's cheeky squeeze to your butt immediately washes all your thoughts down the drain, squealing into a giggle fit. She wraps her arms around your shoulders, sliding her gaze up and down your body in the mirror. She looked positively satisfied with her work, and she did an amazing job. Despite how upset she was initially, she still came through for you where it mattered. She was still your best friend, and you wouldn't ever dream of asking for a new one.

"You look so sexy," She hums, squeezing you tightly.

You smile, "I do. Thank you, Navia. I'd be lost without you."

"I know!" She hums, "I'm still upset you won't let me go to this special 'invite-only' party, but I guess I'll have to settle for dressing you up now."

You roll your eyes, "Ifa asked me to go, not you, I don't think he'd enjoy you barging in on our date."

She scowls, biting your shoulder hard enough you have to push her away. As you do, your phone buzzes, undoubtedly a notification from him. You smile at his message, typing a quick response before tossing it back in your bag thoughtlessly. If you were gonna be out all night, you would need to use it as little as possible, so into the bag it would be forgotten until you absolutely needed it.

"He's here," You hum, and Navia only seems to sour more.

She still finds it in herself to give you a quick smack as you walk out the door, "Be safe. Use protection!"

You scoff, "Shut up! I'll text you when I'm coming back, okay?"

"IF you're coming back."

"Goodnight, Navia."

She sticks her tongue out at you as you round the corner to the stairs, carefully making your way down to the back exit of the dorm. You see Ifa through the window before he does you, a loose-fitted t-shirt, a leather jacket, and a pair of very flattering jeans. He's ditched his usual cowboy hat for wild and free hair that frames his face nicely, highlighting those sleepy eyes of his you've come to love. He's as cool as he always is, hands stuffed in his pockets as he breathes in the night air. Right up until he sees you that is.

There's a visible shift in him, straightening and eyebrows raising near his hairline. Navia did exactly what she set out to do. A lazy smirk crawls up his face, hands immediately reaching out to take your waist in his hands. They fit there perfectly, warming you in spite of the cool evening air. It's easier to kiss him on these platforms, lips sliding against yours like they were meant to be there. There's an underlying heat to the way he kisses you, but he doesn't push for any more than he's given right now.

"You look good," Is the first thing that leaves his mouth, breathless.

You fluster, "Navia helped me out."

"She did a good job," he hums, pressing another warm kiss to your cheek, then another to your jaw before he catches himself.

He pulls back, giving you another heated once-over before interlocking your fingers in tugging you along with him. The car ride to his friend's house is full of tension that neither of you wants to acknowledge just yet. But his hand rests a little too high up on your thigh as he drives, and it squeezes a little too tight at every stop light. Like he's reminding himself to behave.

It wasn't as though you hadn't already tried things with him. He was pretty straightforward about everything in the relationship, including his own needs, but he'd never let it go past heavy petting. The tension wasn't unfamiliar, but it was different. Thicker. More... unruly, somehow.

Still, he doesn't jump your bones in the car, nor does he when he finally parks down the block from the party. He's the picture-perfect gentleman as he helps you out of the car, leading you down the street with a hand on your lower back. The music from the party blares loudly down the street, thrumming in your veins already. You nearly ask to turn back there, you know he would too. You're sure he'd take any chance to be alone with you right now, but an excited voice shouts from the sidewalk in front of you, followed by rapid footsteps.

A cute girl with white hair and the brightest smile you've ever seen stops dead in her tracks in front of you. Just short of plowing both of you down as she pants to catch her breath. Given how red her cheeks are, she's already had a few, but she seems more worried about greeting the two of you than her own well-being. She takes both of your hands in hers, bouncing up and down excitedly.

"ARE YOU THE GIRL IFA'S BEEN TALKING ABOUT?" She shouts, far too loud for her proximity.

You flinch slightly, pulling back, and that gets her to back down a little. She frowns, apologetic as she backs away, still holding your hands in hers.

"Sorry, I'm just so excited to meet you! He doesn't shut up about how amazing you are-"

"Alright, Mualani, we get it," Ifa interrupts, holding you a little closer now, "cool it, yeah, bro?"

You smile warmly at her, squeezing her hands back, "It's nice to meet you, uhm, Mualani."

Another set of footsteps comes from behind the bright girl, and a man with black hair comes jogging over. He looks tired, faces expressionless as he carefully peels Mualani off you. A deep sigh tumbles past his lips, giving Ifa what could almost be considered an apologetic look, though his face doesn't shift too much. Ifa nods regardless, so you nod at him too.

"She was adamant she had to be the first person to greet you," The young man sighs again, "I'm sorry for the trouble she might've caused. It is nice to meet you, though."

You smile a little, "Nice to meet you too, um..."

"Kinich," Ifa answers for you, "let's get going to the party already, yeah? I'm gettin' cold."

Kinich nods, and the four of you make your way to the actual party. Mualani excitedly chats your ear off, pressing her shoulder into yours and swinging her arms around animatedly. She reminded you a lot of Navia, if she was a bit more carefree. She was easy to talk to and more than eager to help you get around the party - she even mentioned setting aside a room for you if you got too overwhelmed. 'Comfort comes first!' she sang out.

You nearly take her up on the offer the second you step through the door. The heat of the bodies hits you immediately after the sound does, and you can smell the weed in the air. It's intense enough to make you lightheaded, but Ifa squeezes you close to his side, and it all melts away. It's not so bad, because Ifa is right here, excusing both of you to a more secluded corner and making sure you're okay. Always worrying about you.

"You sure you wanna do this," he asks, crowding your space, "all you have to do is say the word, bro."

"I know, bro. I want to, I just need a second to adjust... and... maybe a drink." You hum.

He smirks, "A drink I can do, too. Stay there lookin' pretty, I'll be right back."

You appreciate the sight of him walking away with a contented smile. From your little hidey-hole, you can see all the people. Some of them chatted, others dancing on each other, some playing drinking games, and a few a little too close to fucking each other raw over poor Mualani's couch. It's nice to have this vantage point, it allows you to take it all in instead of getting overstimulated like when Venti or Navia push you into everything at once. A drink in a quiet corner with Ifa was all you needed to warm up a little.

You feel your nerves melting away just from standing there, knowing he would be coming back. Knowing you would have a drink to steel your nerves soon. A light sigh leaves your lips, contentment sinking into your bones. You could drink, dance, and really let loose tonight with Ifa. That's just what you plan on doing, slutty little outfit giving you more confidence than you might normally have.

A low whistle near you seems to agree, turning your head to find none other than Venti. He looks tickled by your tiny skirt if the way his eyes stick to your legs says anything. He prances up to you with his usual grace, a cheeky grin lighting up his face.

"Didn't expect to see you here, Windblume," He chirps, taking Ifa's previous spot next to you.

The closeness is something you're all to used to with Venti, so you don't bat an eye when he presses his shoulder into yours. Nor when he takes a strand of your hair to twirl it between his fingers. His flirtiness was a part of his natural charm, after all, there wasn't anything to question with him. So you smile shyly at him.

"Me either, honestly." You admit.

He hums, "Thought you were too busy to party with me."

"I am busy," you defed.

"And sober," he jabs an elbow into your side, leaning in close, "want me to get something for ya. I know a real good combination that'll have you giggling in no time."

"Already got it covered," the very dry voice of Ifa responds for you.

He slides his arm around your shoulder, effectively walling Venti away from your face. He doesn't seem to take it too hard, shrugging and dipping around to keep his eyes on you. You roll your eyes at his antics, taking the red solo cup from Ifa who affixes an unfriendly look over your head on Venti.

"Ooo, who's this? Got yourself a little boyfriend now?" Venti teases lightly.

You fluster, feeling a little humiliated by the teasing, especially in front of Ifa. It strikes you now that Ifa really hasn't seen the way you interact with anyone other than himself and Ororon - occasionally Navia when he's lucky. Venti's flirty banter could come off the wrong way, and you don't want Ifa to get the wrong idea. It doesn't seem to matter though, because he quickly responds.

"Sure does. That a problem for you, dude?" He's more dry than usual, and it's lacking in humor.

Venti takes it in stride, "No! Of course not! Weird though, she hasn't mentioned you to me before."

Ifa scoffs, pressing you closer to his side, "She only sees you what, once or twice a week right? Not much you can say in so little time to someone who doesn't shut up."

You can feel the tension between them building way too fast for you to keep up with, so you swallow down whatever fruity concoction Ifa got for you quickly. Feeling more confident with the alcohol in your veins, you pop back into their conversation somewhere about responsibility and taking things seriously.

"Hey, y'know, I went to read your poem last night and there was nothing on the document," you suddenly voice, tearing through the tension, "I think it might've been deleted."

"Are you serious?" Venti asks, suddenly a little more serious.

You nod, "Yeah. It was totally blank when I looked."

"Shit." He spits out, "I gotta go check on it... it was nice to see you. I'll talk to you later?"

You nod adamantly, "I hope nothing happened, see you later!"

He nods, waving at you as he slowly melds into the sea of people toward the front door. You feel Ifa relax as he finally walks away, tossing back the rest of his drink with a sigh. You peer up at him and find he's already smiling knowingly down at you. He caught on fast.

"Are all your friends that insufferable," He asks, humor back in his tone like it never left.

You smile, "Nope. Venti's just good at getting under your skin. He's really nice, I promise."

"Oh, he wanted to get under something, alright..." He mumbles under his breath.

You tilt your head curiously, "What was that?"

"Nothin' darlin'," he sighs, "why don't we go find something fun to do. I'm aching to let loose, dance."

You nod excitedly, the buzz from your drink giving you the confidence you need as he tugs you out of the corner and to the dance floor. It's bodies on top of bodies, brushing against each other, heat emanating from every direction. Yet, all you can focus on is Ifa as he smiles at you like you're the only thing worth looking at. His hands keep themselves at your waist, despite how they twitch to be anywhere else.

He does a good job of it too, holding you with the respect that any young man should. It doesn't last long though, not when the song shifts to a much more upbeat one. An 'ass throwing' song, as Navia likes to say, and you can't help but agree with her now. Turning around to throw it back on Ifa, laughing when you see him visibly short-circuiting over your shoulder.

You're not sure what's going through his mind in the few seconds he's stun-locked, but when he starts reciprocating, grinding back into you you can get an idea. His hands slide up your sides and over your stomach, keeping you pressed tight into him. He's rock hard against you, and you can feel how soaked your panties have gotten. The skirt leaves little untouched by him, and you can tell he wants it all to be untouched by the way his fingers dance along the bottom of it, the other hand cusping your breast.

You feel electricity pressed up against him, feeling sinfully sexy with how he's all over you. When he leaned down to press his face into your neck, you knew the two of you were done for. It was just you and Ifa right now, and you're sure if he was more than tipsy he'd probably take you on the floor with all these people watching. You don't dare admit how much that turns you on.

Instead, he whispers in your ear, "Wanna go check out that room Mualani was talkin' 'bout?"

You don't respond, just turning and pushing him. He guides you around the house like second nature, pulling you up a flight of stairs and to a quiet corner of the house no one seems to bother visiting right now. The door to the bedroom creaks open, and he takes a second to make sure it's empty, before pulling you in.

His lips are on yours again so fast you nearly stumble to the floor, but he catches you by the small of your back and leverages that to deepen the kiss. You shove at his jacket frantically, sighing as his tongue presses into your mouth. It rolls along yours, playfully coaxing you to join in, only to fight when you finally do.

He doesn't break it until he's tugging your shirt off, then his. Only for a moment before he's back on you with a fury, determined to swallow you whole it seems. Your bra follows after this, and then his belt and jeans fall with a dull thud. As soon as they do, he's hauling you up into his arms, grasping your thighs like a lifeline as he carries you to the bed. You bounce a few times when he tosses you on it, looking down at you with unrestrained excitement.

You're not any different, swallowing up the contours of his abs happily. He looked like some kind of god like this, making your head spin from more than just the buzz you had. He seems to have a moment of clarity, leaning down to press his forehead against yours.

"You wanna do this? All you gotta say is-"

"Yes. God, please, you've been eye fucking me all night and I can't stand it anymore." you groan out.

He laughs, "Guilty as charged. Can you blame me though? This little skirt doesn't leave much to the imagination."

"That's the point, yeah." You snark back, earning you a warning squeeze on your thigh.

"Don't be nasty now, bro."

"Call me bro one more time and you're not getting any ever."

He nods, "Noted. Now... let's see what's goin' on down here..."

He crawls down your body with his lips, hands spreading you out like you were a delicious buffet made just for him. He smirks at the lacy panties, and more specifically at the very obvious wet spot staining the middle of them. You realize he hasn't taken your skirt off, staring at him like this, and go to do so, but he stops you. Eyes moving up to yours like a warning.

"That stays on. Got it, sweetness?" he warns lowly, and the words rush right to your aching pussy, clenching around nothing.

You nod stupidly, and he hums satisfied. Returning to the object of his interests. He thinks about it for a moment, eyes looking to yours, and then with a smirk, he leans down and licks a long stripe up your clothed entrance. Eyes locked on yours, making sure you're watching him like he wants. It draws a long whine out of you, and his smirk widens.

He leans down, mouth clasping around you and allowing his tongue to roll over your clothed folds. It's an oddly pleasant feeling, the wet lace pressing into you, leaving an imprint of it against you. He groans at the taste of you, vibrating through you to your core. It's not enough for either of you, which is why he quickly tugs your panties down your legs and delves right in again. He immediately searches for your clit, finding it with little effort and absolutely abusing the hell out of the little nub.

It's shockwave of pleasure after shockwave of pleasure, and it's only made worse when his sneaky fingers are suddenly pressing inside. Stretching you out for the main event. He moves them at a languid pace, pumping in and out of you with ease from how damn wet you'd become. Each pump is followed by a roll of his tongue, surrounding you with nothing but him and the pleasure he gave you. You were lightheaded in minutes, ready to fall apart at just a single word.

Yet, he pulled away right before he got to the good part, leaving you breathless and worked up. You whine at him, and he grins apologetically, though he doesn't seem that way.

"Sorry darlin', I wanna feel that when I'm inside you for real. You can understand that, can't you?" He purrs, annoyingly convincing for his cause.

He moves across the room, digging in his pants for something, sighing when he finds it. The little package glints in the light, and you realize it's a condom as he settles himself between your legs with his boxers gone. Why did he bring condoms with him, unless he planned to fuck you tonight, which was honestly kind of hot.

"You just carry condoms around with you," You ask.

He chuckles, "I do, yeah. I may not need 'em... usually... but my friends are some freaks. Gotta make sure they're not havin' kids at these parties, y'know."

You smirk, "You sure you weren't just planning on sleeping with me?"

"Well..." He hums, "I won't say I wasn't hoping for it."

"Got your wish then," you answer.

He smirks, "Damn right I did. You ready?"

He leans down over you, lacing your fingers together and pressing his forehead to yours. It's incredibly sweet the way he looks at you, gentle and loving, despite the fact he was about to fuck you. You nod, reciprocating the gestures.

"Squeeze my hand three times if you need me to stop, okay pretty?" He hums, and you nod again.

His other hand comes down to help ease himself into your sopping entrance. It's a stretch even with his earlier help, but that can't be stopped you suppose. Besides, he goes so slow and gives you all the time you need to adjust, so it's not so bad. It takes a bit before he is fully sheathed inside, but once he is, it's like you're in heaven. He fills you up so good, stuffed full and ready to have your world rocked by him with the pounding of the party music behind you.

One last check, a little squeeze of your fingers, and he finally moves. Small and shallow thrusts first, testing the waters, but they make you squirm nonetheless. When he is certain you are taking him well, his movements get deeper, and more meaningful in the way he moves against you. The brush of his cock inside your walls is dizzying, dragging along them at an easy pace making your head spin.

His fingers tighten around your hand, his other hand tapping along your hip like he's trying to distract himself. His usually lidded eyes have fallen impossibly lower, each breath looking like an impossible task for him. It's got you biting your lip, fingers tightening in his grip. He glances up at you, catching your shameless staring, and gives you a breathtaking smile.

"Enjoying the view?" He pants out, still keeping that same pace.

You nod, unable to focus on one part of his face, eyes darting from one to the other, then his lips down his chest and back again. Too much brain power to focus on one part of him when all of them look so good right now. It gets him to coo at you, hand sliding up your side in a slow and easy crawl until it cradles your jaw.

"Can't even focus, am I really that good?" He asks though you're in no state to answer and he knows it.

He leans down to kiss you before you can try and mumble something half-coherent out, swallowing the sounds as they die on your tongue. It dips in and out at the same pace he does, slow and deep, reaching further and further as if trying to imprint himself inside you. His free hand slides back down your body, giving your breast a playful squeeze on its way, and slides around your thigh. With no effort on his part, he lifts it up to wrap your leg around his waist. The new angle deepened his thrusts even more, pressing up against your sensitive walls relentlessly. Steady and firm and unshaken.

You keep yourself level by following the movements of his tongue, pressing against yours, encouraging you to keep up with him. He tastes like the fruity drink from earlier, with the slightest hint of something savory underneath. The alcohol was nothing against him, practically blackout on his taste alone. You might never drink again if this was the replacement. You bring your free hand up to his hair, running your fingers through his curly locks. They curl around your fingers, sinking you into him even further, temping you to get lost in him.

Each draw of his hips sent fire through your bones and every time they collided with yours you swear lightning struck your body. The pounding music only aids in making your head fuzzy, encouraging you to be as loud as you like against his lips. You moan and sigh and whine, just like he wants you to, eating up each sound with another swipe of his tongue. You think you might suffocate against his lips, but you don't mind that at all. It would be an honor to die smothered in his devotion, so much so that you whine when he begins to trail his lips away from yours.

Open-mouthed kisses tumble down your cheek, along your jawline, and right to the side of your throat. He nips at you playfully when you clench around him, having to take a second to groan against your skin when you clench even harder at the feeling. You're not sure how many marks he leaves in the heat of the moment, but it feels as though he means to leave no room to question what exactly you'd done tonight. What he'd done. What he was going to do.

He readjusted the hand he was holding, placing it around his neck and tapping three times as a reminder. Then it falls down in between the two of you, squeezing the fat of your thigh tightly. Leveraging himself up into a sitting position with its help, tugging you flush against him as soon as he's adjusted. The room is much cooler with him off of you, your nipples pebble along with your skin. You don't think when your hands come up to play with them, pulling and tweaking the sensitive buds to warm yourself up again. The effect it has on Ifa is a different story, eyes blown wide and watching you with nothing short of hunger.

"Shit, dude- fuck. I meant- goddamn... you're gonna kill me here, darlin'," He flusters for the second time that night.

You just roll your hips in response, unable to think of any clever comeback right now. All you want is for him to fuck you, and that's what you'll get, one way or another. He reciprocates with ease, once again using your thighs as leverage to fuck himself into you. The pace he sets is much more aggressive now, urgent like he couldn't wait much longer either.

His fingers sink into the plush of your thighs like dough, molding your mind and body with his dick. The heat from earlier is back with a vengeance, running through your whole body and pouring into your core like molten lava. The heat keeps rising and rising with every thrust, and deeper and deeper you fall into madness. The only thing on your mind is him, and it tumbles out of your lips like a mantra. Like a benevolent god, he listens and keeps giving you all you pray for. Pounding deeply within your core until the heat boils over, and you sob his name as the white-hot pleasure sends you tumbling into madness.

He follows after you, bending over you to suck one last purple hickey between your neck and your jaw, and then moans your name. Low and deep, rumbling between the two of you. He comes down first, pressing soft kisses into your neck as you float from your high, lightweight as a feather. You bask in the affection he gives you, sighing into the air, still thrumming from the party below you.

"Feel good?" He asks.

You nod, "I think I needed that."

He smirks into your skin, taking a second before responding, "I think I needed it too."

It takes a few moments for either of you to get up, basking in the warm glow of after-sex. Yet, the party still roars beneath you, reminding you that you are not at home and that to relax you would have to get home. However, with Navia there, it wouldn't be very relaxing - especially after she sees what you did to her skirt.

Ifa pulls himself up first, easing you into a sitting position as sweetly as he can. Quietly he dresses himself, collects your clothes, and helps you do the same. As best as he can, that is. He takes about three seconds to look at your panties before stuffing them in the pocket of his jeans. Your bra he does manage to get on, clipping the clasp together with little struggle thanks to his steady hands. Instead of bothering with your top, he simply zips you up in his jacket and shoves the thin piece of fabric into his other pocket. It's all an incredibly endearing show, ending when he pulls you up and tugs your skirt back down over your ass. Not that it matters when his jacket is longer than it was in the first place.

He knows the way out of the house, navigating the two of you through the crowd with ease, making sure he is positioned right behind you. Just in case. Certainly not to get another feel as he pushes you through the bodies. You almost feel bad for leaving without saying goodbye or having properly met his friends, but you know you'll get another chance to do so. Hopefully in a more calming setting.

He's quiet as he leads you back to his car, eyes focused on something off in the distance that you couldn't see. The quiet night air keeps you company instead, and the cool breeze cools your still-heated skin with kindness. It's sobering, hitting you all at once with the realization you just did the most cliche college act in the book, and it was amazing. Maybe not the best idea- scratch that, it was a really good idea, but maybe Ifa didn't agree? You couldn't tell with the way he was acting.

Quietly sitting down in his car, making sure you didn't ruin his seats as he drove you home. He still kisses your forehead before he takes off like all is well, but his grip is knuckle white on the steering wheel. He swallows hard every few minutes like whatever he's thinking about is difficult for him. Did he regret sleeping with you? It didn't seem like it while it was happening, but maybe being outside sobered him up and he realized what a huge mistake he made?

You shake your head, mentally scolding yourself for wallowing in self-pity. With a warm smile, you rest your hand on his arm, startling him out of his thoughts. He blinks a few times, seemingly shaking off whatever is on his mind, and smiles at you like the luckiest man alive.

"You alright... you seem... distracted?" You ask quietly.

He takes a moment to compose himself again, fingers tapping along the steering wheel as a distraction. He's holding himself back again, an unidentifiable tension that you weren't aware of standing between you and him. A moment of internal debate, before his shoulders finally relax and his hand comes to slip into yours like it was meant to.

"I have been dreaming of having sex with you since our first kiss," he admits brazenly, glancing at you a few times to gauge your reaction.

Reasonably, you're flustered at the admission, but you can't shame him. You'd had similar feelings for a while, but admitting them out loud was harder than it seemed. You admired that he could do it so easily, though. Finding his boldness charming more than startling.

You squeeze his hand, "Well... you're not alone in that."

He snorts, "Yeah, well, now that I've gotten a taste I dunno if I can stop. You've got me addicted from one taste."

You bite your lip, emboldened by his confidence, and slide his hand up your thigh. Resting it just below where his jacket ends, message more than obvious.

"No one said you had to stop," you hum, relishing in how his hand squeezes you so tightly, "it's healthy to treat yourself sometimes. You told me that, remember."

"I did, didn't I?" He hums, fingers crawling under your skirt once more, "I hope you don't mind my indulging just a little longer?"

You send him a suspicious look, “How much longer?”

"How about until someone gives us a noise complaint, hm?" he purrs.

Your eyebrows shoot up, he wanted to keeping going in his dorm?

"What about Ororon? Won't he-"

"Visiting his granny," he dismisses, "and don't worry about Cacucu, I sent him off with Ororon this weekend. Figured I'd be busy."

You can't believe how shameless he was, but you can't find it in yourself to be anything other than happy.

"Well then, I hope your neighbors don't mind missing a few hours of sleep tonight."

He hums, fingers finally right where they need to be, "They're really understanding, so don't worry too much about them."

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

You had to go to great lengths to hide all the hickeys Ifa very intentionally left all over the most visible parts of your neck. His punishment was running to the drug store to buy you all the cheap color-correcting makeup you needed, but he didn't seem to be bothered by it. Not when he sighed so dreamily as he watched you struggle to cover up all his doing. Luckily, he got the cumstains out of Navia's skirt, so you could forgive him for that at least. You're not sure she'd even want it back anyway.

After nearly an hour of painstaking work, you've finally covered all the hickies you could see. Which was most of your neck, of course. You tie your messy hair up in a bun, not wanting to handle it any longer. He'd left you quite a mess, and you only had enough energy left to fix one of the several. Still, when he came up behind you to kiss you farewell before his 8am, you couldn't stay mad.

"You're gonna come to Puspa tonight, right? Mualani was thinking of stopping by with Kinich and some of our other friends," he asks, pressing his face against yours from behind.

You smile at him through the mirror, pressing your cheek closer to his, "Yeah, I can come. I still feel bad leaving like we did."

"Trust me, bro, they're not upset," he pulls back with that, leaning down to press one last kiss to the back of your neck, "stop by the library before lunch, too, Ororon wants to see you."

"I will," you call to him as he waltzes out the door.

From there, you go about your day as usual. Your first few classes are peaceful and quiet, with no one bothering you about anything. Monday is the only day Navia has no morning classes with you, so it's all nice and easy without her pestering for details every five minutes. It's not until you bump into Kazuha that things seem a little off. He has an uneasy smile on his face when he taps your shoulder from behind, but still wraps you in a hug like always when you do.

"Hey, it's my boyfriend!" You hum playfully.

He hums back, "I've missed you, my darling girlfriend. I heard you went to a party this weekend, did you have fun?"

There's a hidden question in his tone, and you know what it is, but you dismiss it. There's no way he of all people would know what you and Ifa did... all weekend unless Venti somehow found out, but you doubt it. He was really serious about the poem that you may or may not have lied about.

"Yeah! It was super fun, I met some cool new people and... and I really got to unwind!" You dance around the subject easily.

He doesn't push it, thank goodness, "That's great. You really push yourself too far sometimes, a good rest is what you deserve."

"Thanks, Kazuha." You're genuinely appreciative of it too. It's nice to hear him talk so positively of you, "I gotta get to my meeting with Kaveh, but take care, yeah!"

He smiles, waving you off, end with a, "Remember if you ever feel the need to unwind again, just call me next time!"

A little weird on the phrasing, especially considering what 'unwinding' meant to you, but... surely not. There's just no way! You dismiss it quickly as it comes, not wanting to relish on the thought and ruin your perfectly good day.

But then, Kaveh and Alhaitham are acting a bit... odd. You don't usually study with them, but Eula was busy this evening, and using study room five without her felt sacrilegious. So, you managed to convince Kaveh to do so during his free period, Alhaitham promising to stop by later once his class was out. Kaveh had been tense since you set your bag down, unable to really focus on his paper.

When Alhaitham comes in the behavior only gets odder, the older of the two immediately scolding him when he goes to ask you a question. They bicker back and forth about it for a moment, before Alhaitham drops it with a sigh. Weird, given how stubborn he was all the time. But he kept glancing at your neck, making you feel a little self-conscious. Had the makeup rubbed off? You told Ifa to get the good expensive stuff so it shouldn't have so easily.

You finally get your answer when Wriothesley and Navia come across you as you're heading to the library to meet with Ifa and Ororon. You hear Navia before you see her, gasping loudly like she'd seen something horribly scandalous. When you turn to them, you are surprised to find Wirothesley scowling at you. Or, more at your neck. Self consciously you place a hand at the back of your neck.

"Ohh, honey," Navia coos, rushing to your side, "why didn't you come and see me, I would've made sure you got all of them!"

Wriothesley, on the other hand, is as dry as ever, "Do I need to take care of someone for you, cause I most certainly can. Might cost you though."

"No, you don't... yet," you sigh, "is it bad."

Wriothesley nods, "Like someone tried to eat you."

"Well, at least I know why you didn't come home this weekend," Navia mumbles, "goodness, it really does look like he tried to eat you. Lemme help you cover it up."

You wave a hand at her, "No, no. I'll just hide it with my hair. Besides, I'm already late to meeting Ifa, and Childe's gonna throw a fit if I'm not at our regular table in fifteen."

She pouts as you brush past her, but doesn't push you any further. She had all night to do that anyway, so you'd get your scolding from her later.

Wriothesley sends you a smirk as you walk away, "Just say the word!"

"I'll let you know!" You call back, practically storming your way to the library.

Ifa smiles when he sees you, then frowns when he sees your hair. That bastard. You nearly rip him a new one, if not for the fact Ororon greets you before you can get to it. He is blissfully unaware of what his roommate had done on both sides of the room this weekend, and you think it's best kept that way. It does not stop you from glaring over at Ifa when Ororon isn't paying attention, though.

When he offers to walk you to the cafeteria, you take it as your opportunity to scold him like a mother would a child.

"Why didn't you tell me? I walked around like that all day. People probably think I'm a cheap whore," you whine.

He smirks, "You're a very pretty cheap whore."

"Ifa."

He holds his hands up, "I'm kidding, bro, I'm kidding. You're not a whore, you're the opposite actually."

"You're so insufferable," you roll your eyes, but you're not angry much anymore, "I don't get why you had to leave all these marks. It's like you like getting in trouble."

"Only with you," he remarks cheekily, quickly moving on to, "Besides, I gotta 'stake my claim on you' somehow."

You level a flat look on him, wholly unimpressed with his animal kingdom language, "That's the stupidest shit I've ever heard.

He smiles at you like he always does, wrapping an arm around your shoulder, "It's true though! You've always got a million eyes on you, if I don't leave my mark they'll think it's okay to take what's mine."

You raise an eyebrow, though your heart flutters in your chest, "What's yours?"

"That's what you are, right?" He leans in close, "You're mine, aren't you?"

You have to turn away to save face, tucking your hair behind your ear nervously. God he was so attractive, it wasn't fair.

"Guess I am," you answer simply.

"Good, just how I like it."

[loveinhawkins]

not the loss but the thing misplaced

ao3 Written for @steddie-spooktober Halfway to Halloween prompt, “fog,” 995 words. Rated G, Missing Scene, season 4, the walk through The Upside Down woods, Eddie Munson Backstory

“How pissed d’you think they would be,” Eddie says, trying to sound unbothered, “if I asked them to slow down?”

He watches the glow of Steve’s flashlight scatter across the forest floor. It’s not a pretty sight, creepy vines and other nasty shit all harshly exposed, but it’s better than looking ahead and seeing—

“Nance wouldn’t mind. Robin…” Steve gives a vague hum. “Maybe? She’s got this thing where, like, once she builds up momentum she doesn’t really wanna stop. Going uphill especially, I think she thinks she’s gonna fall if she doesn’t do it all at once. One time we were helping Dustin take apart this… transmitter? Or something, doesn’t matter. Anyway, at Weathertop—”

“Weathertop?” Against his better judgment, Eddie looks up, but at least he’s got a distraction for now.

“Yeah, it’s Dustin’s name for that huge hill, y’know, the highest point in Hawkins.”

It’s a cute thought, but Eddie’s fond reply is stolen from him as he inadvertently glances ahead. He doesn’t say anything, but he feels the weight of Steve’s eyes on him.

“You okay? Did you see something?”

Steve raises the flashlight with renewed purpose. Eddie shakes his head. Tries to think of how to phrase this in the least mortifying way possible.

“Nah, man, it’s… it’s so dumb, never mind.”

Great, his go-to tactic: avoidance.

“Oh, yeah? Try me.”

There’s a pointed silence. And, as if Steve’s put some magic in the air, Eddie feels compelled to break it. Even the claws of his doubt that have sunk the deepest seem to relax slightly, and as he takes a breath, he’s hit with a sudden certainty: Steve won’t laugh.

“It’s just—just a thing from when I was a kid, y’know? I don’t, um, I’m not the biggest fan of, like, fog and shit.” He keeps his voice as light as he can, like maybe that can make the fear smaller. But Steve just looks at him, so earnestly listening, and he ends up tacking on more of the truth than he planned to. “I used to think it’d like. Take, um. Take people away.”

It skirts the edges of the full story—of the long nights he’d be left alone in his old home, waiting for his dad to come back. The place backed onto some woods, and when he was desperate he’d sit outside with his heart in his mouth, just watching the fog roll in.

You’re alone, the creeping mist would whisper. You’re all alone, and they’re never coming back.

He’d broken only once; the unhappiest of years had bled into one, but he couldn’t have been more than ten. He’d called Wayne. And back then, Wayne was only slightly more familiar than a stranger—it’d only be much later that Eddie would figure out the distance was a deliberate choice on his dad’s part—but he stayed on the line, and he must’ve missed his shift but never once mentioned it, just kept talking to Eddie quietly.

Eddie can’t remember how the phone call ended—his next clear memory is of Wayne’s car pulling up early in the morning, the gold of his headlights burning through the fog; he drove all the way from Hawkins, Eddie had thought with a childish wonder, as if Wayne had been on an impossible journey in an adventure book.

His dad must’ve returned at some point because Eddie vaguely recalls eavesdropping outside, dizzy with lack of sleep. It’s one of the only times he’s ever heard Wayne raise his voice: “For fuck’s sake, Al, that’s your kid.”

Steve absentmindedly passes the flashlight from one hand to the other. He looks thoughtful. “No kidding? Me too, kinda.”

You’re sweet, Eddie thinks; he can’t help it.  

He nudges Steve’s side with his elbow, “That’s nice of you and all, but you don’t need to make me feel better.”

“Hey, rude, I was being serious,” Steve says, with a lightheartedness that suggests maybe he’s sidestepping something just as much as Eddie. “I get it.”

It’s between one step and the next that an answer comes to Eddie. His mental map of Hawkins unfurls, and he zeroes in on the Harrington house; of course, Steve’s place backs onto the woods, too. There’s something undeniably comforting about a shared experience, however long ago. But mostly Eddie feels a twinge of sadness. I hope you weren’t as alone as I was.

“But that wasn’t the big fear,” Steve says—louder, more confident, like he’s somehow heard Eddie’s train of thought and is really saying, Come on, man, that’s enough. Have fun with me.

“No? Enlighten me, Harrington.”

“It was,” Steve says, as if he’s a very serious newscaster, “the sound of the toilet flushing.”

Eddie snorts. “It was not.”

“It was so! That thing sounded like a monster, dude, it was, like—” Grinning, Steve makes a juvenile noise in demonstration; it sounds more like static from a radio. It’s exaggerated and ridiculous, and so obviously done to make Eddie laugh. “And I’d run downstairs like this—” He covers an ear with his free hand, briefly stops walking to do a comical jog on the spot, “—so I wouldn’t have to hear it. Now that is embarrassing.”

“Okay, fine, dude,” Eddie says, still chuckling, “you win.”

Thank you.

The laughter helps, but it doesn’t quite stop the flare of anxiety when he catches sight of the girls again, the fog rendering them into nothing but shadows, like they might just vanish any second now.

“Hey, you know what?” Steve says kindly. “I don’t think Robin’ll be pissed at all.”

He whistles, and that brings back warmer memories of Steve in his element on the basketball court, Eddie pretending not to watch.

And as they catch up with Nancy and Robin, Eddie can see now that it’s not so bad really; the flashlight’s beam easily cuts through the fog. Steve smiles encouragingly, and he feels on the verge of some glimmering emotion; feels like he’s been given something that won’t ever slip away.

your fear but a lingering, limbic fear torn from shreds of forgotten years. Only that much is clear. —Alice B. Fogel, Forgiving the Darkness

[low-budget-korra]

Why Anora and Mikey Madison Oscar's can mean a dark time in Hollywood

First of all, Anora is a fun movie but that's it. A fun movie that only works because of the cast and their chemistry and charisma. But let's talk about the elephant In the room: Anora didn't used intimacy coordinator.

A movie that has a lot of sex scenes, didn't have these professionals to guarantee the actor's safety. "But it was the cast choice" it shouldn't be a choice to begin with. Imagine if an actor dismisses the make up artists because they think without them they will do a better job? This would never happen. And Sean Baker, as the director and experienced professional should be the one who advocates for this, he should be the one to say to the cast "I'm sorry guys, but we need to have those professionals to guarantee y'all safety and guarantee the scenes are well choreographed" but he didn't bc his pretentious ass could never.

So, when the Oscar gives an award for this, what is the message it gives? That we should stop having those professionals in the productions, all the name of the art and more authentic acting.

Now, y'all remember what was like the pre Me Too era, when we didn't have these professionals to look out for actors safety? Horror stories really. Emília Clarke finishing her sex scenes in Game of Thrones, and not having a fucking robe to cover herself. Emmy Rossum having a full on panic attack shooting a scene bc her vanity pad was nowhere to be seen and she had to be fully naked. The infamous and horrible rape that happened in Last Tango in Paris. I could go on and on, but I guess y'all get to understand why it's important to have an intimacy coordinator for nude and sex scenes.

And if this really happens, if productions start to dismiss them, following Sean Baker and his cast decision, it's gonna be dark times for the actors (especially the women). Shit that they will be obligated to do in order to work - especially the younger ones who are still making a name for themselves - and shit that will happen backstage that we will only hear about like 10+ years later.

No hate to Mikey, she is young and just starting her career. My hate is on Baker who should have been the experienced professional and made the right decision. And bc of the many unnecessary and raw shooted sex scenes(for the lack of a better word) , and some uncomfortable scenes for his main character in Anora, I get the feeling Baker exploited the shit out of Mikey's and she didn't even realize it

[sanjarka]

in a strange way katniss and peeta's love story was forbidden. contaminated. they were never allowed to want each other. there was always something to use, to manipulate, to take. the moment their hearts shattered. it never belonged to them. and so for a long time, and especially for katniss, the love is in the shadow of doubt.

and she hates herself for it, thinks of it as an ugly conformation, the proof of something rotten inside of her that can't love. or shouldn't love. of something that has been missing ever since her father died. of something that should've been better. how if she was something better, something easier she wouldn't have been so hungry. or so alone. or so desperate, begging her mother's ghost to see her.

and so the love for peeta growing inside of her becomes enmeshed with snow, with the capitol, with a lack of control and a lack of choice. with her life's worst wounds. and so she runs away, and hides from it and understands that if there is doubt there isn't love. not from her.

then finnick, gentle and careful and somebody who loves in way nobody could ever doubt chooses to tell katniss that actually, she loves peeta.

/ and it's not like he feels it's unlike the way he loves annie. but the how doesn't really matter. it just matters that she does. and not admitting it will only hurt her more. to avoid feeling it. and he doesn't want to be another person forcing her into yet another role to play. he wishes to be silent and to let her figure it out on her own. but what if there's no time to do so. and they're all already dead. and he thinks about being forced to turn his love for annie into entertainment. into a performance. and he feels sick. but he needs her to know. that it's okay to care for peeta. to want peeta. to wish for him. that he probably didn't want to love annie either. or anyone. but that it's still worth it. /

and from that point on katniss truly does allow herself to want peeta more. allows a part of doubt to leave her. from he loves peeta, too to i wonder if it will feel like those last kisses on the beach in the arena, the ones i haven’t dared let myself consider until this moment it seems like she's preparing herself for the ability to hope and have it be worth it for once.

only it's not. it is taken from her. again. the slightest bit of confidence. now, more than ever, it is clear. this will never be a love story. it will be never happen. it was never going to happen. it is not allowed. it’s gone. he’s gone. whatever existed between us is gone.

and the capitol, and the rebels, and snow keep winning. if they need something from her they will take it. and if not they'll discard her. send her to the graveyard with a drunk chaperone.

but it is only in that meadow, where the boy followed her, with enough reasons to never return, that the love story happens anyways.

it is only in that meadow where the boy followed her because he found a home in all the pieces of her, even the broken ones, especially the broken ones, that she can see herself as she is, as she was supposed to be. as she would've always been anyways. soft and in love. without a doubt.

[animasola86]

LOST & FOUND 🫂 CH6

Daddy takes you on a road trip, happy to have you as his passenger princess.

soft!Daddy!dom x Mommy!domme x little girl!reader

WARNINGS: F!Reader insert. Mommy/Daddy kink. Dd/Md/lg dynamics. Dom/sub undertones. Pet names. Road trip. Age gap. Size difference. Explicit language. Over-clothes-touching. Nature hike. Tooth-rottingly-sweet fluff. (More notes under the cut!)

WORDS: 6.4k 🔷️ READ ON AO3 🔷️ 1–2–3–4–5–6 7–8–9–10–11–12

A/N: Quick recap: Reader (we call her pumpkin), in her 20s, has hair and female genitalia, suffers from depression and anxiety, and has agreed to become the little girl/submissive to a couple she's supposed to call Mommy and Daddy, who are in their early/late thirties. In this chapter: Daddy POV incoming! We learn a bit more about him, including his name and age. Turns out: he is an original character, but he was inspired by all the men tagged in this post, I hope you can forgive me for still using those tags. His name is barely mentioned if it's not his POV, so he'll remain (the) Daddy (of your choice) of course. (READ THIS if you'd like a longer explanation!)

Chapter 5 🔷️ Chapter 6 🔷️ Chapter 7

You were settled on the bench seat of the truck, your shoulder leaning against the passenger door, your feet tucked under your butt, as you watched about curiously. The small backpack he'd given you, filled with extra clothes, water and some snacks, rested against your side.

His eyes were on the road, but he kept looking over, out of the corner of his eye or openly when he had to stop at a traffic light or before taking a turn. You looked calm, relaxed, the way those braids framed your pretty face made him smile softly. It had only been a few days, less than that even, but you already looked so different.

When he first saw you shuffling into the living room, nervous and shy and uncertain about everything, he'd hoped to break you out of your shell, make you smile and laugh and see the world in a different light again. He hadn't imagined you'd change so quickly. As if you'd been looking for someone to take care of you all your life, immediately jumping at the chance.

And how fast you'd opened up to him specifically, after just these short moments you'd had together, it warmed his heart. Whatever happened in the shower this morning hadn't been planned, but he was glad it had evolved like it did. It would make things much easier in the future. You might have hesitated a little at first, but he could see that you wanted to be close to him.

There was still a lot of shame inside you, probably stemming from a conservative upbringing or lack of proper communication with your parents or mother in particular (seeing that you never really had a proper father figure in your life), but you did better than he would have thought at first. In hindsight, he had pushed you a little too much as he remembered your distraught face and tears when being presented with the simple task of saying 'cock' and 'cunt' and asking to be touched.

But you pulled through, and he couldn't be more proud. You'd do just fine with all the things to come.

“Daddy?” Your voice rang in his ears, pulling him from his thoughts. The way you said that still tightened something low in his stomach, making his cock twitch.

“Yes, pumpkin?” he replied, throwing a short glance at you, his hand flexing on the steering wheel.

“Where exactly are we going?” you asked. You'd moved on the seat, sitting on your knees, slightly closer to the middle now, the seat belt pushing between your small breasts.

“To the mountains,” he answered, watching you frown before he had to look back at the road. “We'll take a little hike. I'd figured you'd like to get out of town for once, get some fresh air. You'll love it. It's one of my favorite trails.”

“Okay,” you whispered, sounding a little flat. “I hope I can keep up...”

He looked back at you, noticing how you chewed on your bottom lip as you stared out of the passenger window. Before he knew it, he'd reached his hand out and brushed his fingers against your thigh, smiling when you turned your head to him. Instead of maybe pushing him away or dodging the touch, you grabbed his hand and cradled it between yours, giving his fingers a gentle squeeze.

His smile widened when you blushed slightly, focusing your gaze on how much bigger his hand was in yours. “You'll be fine, baby,” he told you, and you nodded, continuing to play with his long fingers.

You must be so touch-starved, with how you soaked up the tiniest of skin-to-skin contact. He was glad about it, knowing there'd be so much more to come, but he also felt bad for taking advantage of you like that. Then again, you were the perfect little girl, the one he'd been looking for for quite some time. Already so submissive, timid but curious, cute and enticing. Just perfect.

It had been Isabella's idea (the woman you only knew as Mommy) to add a little something to their busy lifestyles, something to ground them both, to calm them when life got too much. He'd known his partner for more than a decade then. They'd met as business partners, working for different companies, started out as passionate lovers before they realized they weren't made for a conventional relationship.

Soon they merged lives, business and private, working as equals in the company he'd built up from the very bottom. She was a good partner, knew how to handle herself in a still mostly man-dominated world, mainly because she knew exactly how to dominate right back. She had a fiery temper that he admired both in the office and in his bed, and they soon slipped into a different lifestyle, sharing a passion for the rougher kinds of love-making.

And as much as it grounded him to explore the deepest kinks with her, something had been missing. They were both dominant people, clashing more often than not, which wasn't always a bad thing, but he knew it couldn't go on like that. With their unique relationship being as open as it was, Isabella had been experimenting with submissives long before him (as far as he knew she still had some on the side, juggling it all at once which was impressive), but somehow that only fueled their darker sides.

So one day, she came to him, nursing a strained wrist after some malfunctioning flogger exercise. “Papi,” she'd said, sitting down on the edge of his desk with a sigh. “Something's gotta change.”

He'd leaned back in his chair, watching her. He'd always been blown away by her natural beauty, her long black hair, those thick lashes, the perfectly structured face, full lips, deep eyes full of fire. He knew she didn't do much to maintain her looks, which was even more impressive. That day, she'd been glowing, an idea blossoming in her chest.

“What are you thinking about, babe?” he had asked, tilting his head.

“We should get a dog,” was the first thing she'd said, a tease in her velvety voice, a smirk on her lips. “Or we could adopt. A kid.”

He'd stared at her. “A kid? I thought you hated kids.”

“Well, I do, and you'll never catch me with a bun in the oven, no matter how hard you try to put one in there, mister,” she'd added, poking her pointy nail at his chest. He'd chuckled. “No, I mean...” She'd sighed, pursing her lips. “Listen, I will not be caught dead admitting this, but... I know you'll understand. I think you feel the same. Something's missing.”

“You think we'd have time to raise a kid?” he'd asked, frowning deeply. “We of all people?”

“No, not raise a kid. That'd be a terrible idea, wouldn't it?” She'd laughed her beautiful laugh. “No, stay kinky, chico, I mean we need a little girl, a fully developed human, of age, of course, but someone to take care of and pamper and cuddle on the couch after a long day in the office. Someone who will cherish us and devote her life to us, someone for both of us.”

“You want to be a Mommy, huh?” he'd mused.

“I wanna be called Mommy!” she'd clarified, slipping onto his lap, one arm around his neck as she drew circles over the buttons of his shirt. “And you, papito, were destined to be a Daddy too!”

“You think so?”

“Oh yes, old man, it's now or never,” she'd teased, smiling at him. “You won't get any younger, you know?”

He'd shot her a glare, grabbing her waist and tickling her until she hit his chest, breathless and flushed.

“You'd make a great Daddy,” she'd whispered, nuzzling her nose against his neck. “You were my papi first, but I am more than willing to share. You have so much love to give, let's find a girl who needs it. I'll look around first thing tomorrow, ask around.”

“What? Do you expect to find our little girl on the street?” he'd asked with a raised eyebrow.

In the end, after a long and fruitless search with many failed attempts, she did indeed find you right there on the street, lost and alone, left behind by a life that had gone by too fast. And it had been so easy to open his arms to you, to pull you onto his lap, welcome you into your new life. He smiled as he remembered how small you'd been, shoulders tight, curled into your shell, grabbed tightly by anxiety, but slowly you'd grown, stuck your head out, looked at him with so much hope.

Exhaling loudly, he noticed you were tugging on his hand. Blinking his eyes into focus, realizing he'd been driving mindlessly (luckily it was a straight road for miles), he turned his head to you, finding you smiling shyly at him.

“You okay, baby girl?” he asked quietly.

You nodded, but bit your lip. He squeezed your hand gently, knowing you were about to ask something, fighting with yourself to find the words. He gave you an encouraging smile, waiting patiently, his eyes flicking back to the road for a moment before he felt how you placed his large hand onto your belly, giving it a soft press.

He looked back at you. “Hungry?”

“Can we stop for breakfast or lunch?” you then asked, and he smiled wider.

“Of course we can, pumpkin.” He looked at his watch, realizing it was already noon. Their shower adventure had taken longer than he'd expected and he'd whisked you away right after, completely forgetting about feeding you. What a Daddy he was... He scanned the road signs flying by. “How about a gas station sandwich? Not much else around,” he mused.

“Sure,” you said quietly, still fondling his hand to your stomach.

“I had our chef pack some real food though, for later. But if you're really hungry, we can dig into that right here on the side of the road.”

“No, it's fine, a sandwich will do.” You paused, then whispered: “You packed food, like... for a picnic?”

He looked back at you, nodding. “And I have just the spot to do it too, you'll love it.”

Leaving the road at the next exit, he brought the truck to a stop at the side of a small building. The two gas pumps sat vacant, nobody was around. It looked empty, almost abandoned, but there was a blinking OPEN sign in the dirty window. He considered leaving you in the car, but then thought better and unbuckled your seat belt, motioning you to join him. You slipped back into your shoes and followed immediately.

He waited with his hand extended and you grabbed it quickly, comfortable, as if you'd known each other for a long time. It felt right to walk with you like that. You were so tiny next to him, his hand swallowing yours, and with your braids and those shorts, you looked younger than you were. And somehow, to his own surprise, he didn't have a problem with that.

He pushed the door open and pulled you in after him, the little bell ringing from above. The small store was as empty as the rest of the property, though he heard shuffling in the back. Looking around, he skipped the shelves filled with snacks and went straight to the counter where an array of baked goods sat inside a small glass box.

“BLT or PB&J?” he asked you as you followed his gaze towards the sandwiches.

“Tomato,” you whispered shyly, squeezing his hand.

He nodded, pulling you slightly into his side. A moment later, an older woman came from the back, smiling a toothless smile as she greeted her customers. He ordered two tomato sandwiches to go and a coffee for himself.

“We also have milkshakes,” the clerk chimed as she packaged the food items. “I think you'd love the strawberry one, my dear,” she added, looking at you with a fond glint in her eyes. “Surely your Dad wouldn't mind?”

He noticed the flinch jerking through your body as you lowered your eyes, staring at the counter, your cheeks heating up. It did sound a bit weird to be addressed as your father, and he knew you were bothered by it a lot more than he was, but it was what it was. He was older, taller, bigger, you looked particularly young today, it was an easy mistake to make for a stranger. He decided to address the issue later.

For now, he squeezed your hand, tilting his body towards you. “Do you want one, pumpkin?” he asked quietly.

You looked up at him, your eyelids fluttering as you bit your lip. “Yes,” you breathed, and he smiled, then nodded at the cashier.

When you left the gas station, your hands curled around the large cup, you already seemed to have brightened up again. He slipped onto the driver's seat, watching you climb onto the bench, immediately shifting towards him. He put the sandwiches on the dashboard and his coffee cup in his other hand before he wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into him. You melted into his embrace, smiling shyly as you started sucking on your milkshake.

“Listen, pumpkin,” he started, taking a sip of his coffee. “I'm afraid that may happen more often now. People mistaking you for my daughter. It's fine, isn't it? Nothing to be ashamed of or weirded out by. We know better, don't we?”

You looked at him from under your lashes, your lips puckered around the straw. He had to clench his jaw at the sight, knowing now was the worst possible moment to imagine those same lips wrapped around his cock, but he couldn't help himself or the twitch against the zipper of his jeans. Clearing his throat, he put the coffee into the cup holder and grabbed the sandwiches.

“I'll never force you to show any kind of affection in public, baby, okay?” he said, pulling the wrapped triangles out of the paper bag. “Unless you want to. I don't care what people think about me, but I don't want to embarrass or humiliate you. I want to be there for you, in whatever form you want. I –”

He stopped short when you had shifted on the bench seat, scooting closer on your knees, the milkshake in one hand while your other hand rested on his chest. Without saying anything, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his, the taste of artificial strawberry overwhelming for a moment. He smiled against your lips, then gave you a peck back.

“Is it weird that I... liked it... that she thought I was your daughter?” you whispered quietly, your cheeks flushed. He put the sandwiches on his lap and cupped your face, shaking his head.

“Nothing weird about it, it flatters me,” he said quietly, rubbing his thumbs over the twitching corners of your lips.

“How old are you, Daddy?” you asked, watching him closely.

“38, pumpkin. Does that bother you?” he added, knowing he was fifteen years your senior. But even though it was the biggest age gap in a relationship for him too, he found himself not really minding it as much as he had thought. And neither did you, apparently.

“No,” you breathed, leaning closer again. “I think you look younger. You don't look like any of the men my mother dragged into our house...”

He raised an eyebrow, not wanting to imagine just how many step-fathers you had to live with and endure. “Thanks, baby girl,” he replied instead, brushing his nose against yours.

“So I don't mind if people think you're my... father, but... I...” you stammered, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. His thumb teased at it, pulling it back. The tip of your tongue slid against the pad of his finger. “I also want to... show affection in public... I mean, I want to hold your hand and... and kiss you... and not pretend that I am just your... daughter. Is that... okay?”

He smiled wider, nodding, tilting his head to press his lips to yours. “Of course, pumpkin. We can do whatever you feel comfortable with.”

“And at the same time, I... I'm not sure if I... if I want to call you... Daddy... when others can hear me... that does feel weird, a little bit,” you mused, your fingers curling around the hem of his shirt, teasing at his chest. “Maybe I could... call you... by your name? Do you have a name, Daddy?”

He laughed, both surprised and impressed by how you managed to word your wants and needs almost freely to him. “Of course I have a name, baby,” he said with a smirk.

You stared at him, waiting.

He stared back, amusement flushing his body.

“What's your name, Daddy?” you then asked, catching the unspoken command to ask him properly.

“Noah,” he said. “My name's Noah.”

You mouthed his name silently before you voiced it. “Noah,” you repeated. “And I can call you that when we're among people?”

“Yes, you can, pumpkin,” he replied, watching you closely. “If that makes you happy.”

You hummed, the sound vibrating against his lips.

“Do you want me to call you by your name too, or do you prefer the pet names I gave you?”

“I like it when you call me pumpkin,” you said quietly, inhaling deeply before you slipped from his hands and leaned your head against the backrest of the seat, snuggling into his shoulder. “Or baby or baby girl or anything else. I never really liked my name anyway...”

“But it's a beautiful name, baby,” he whispered, wrapping his arm around you to pull you even closer. “It is,” he stressed with a nod when you were about to roll your eyes, “but I respect your wishes, pumpkin.”

You smiled at him, warmth flooding your big eyes. “By the way, why pumpkin? Do I look like a pumpkin?” you then asked.

He chuckled. “No, I just think it sounds cute, as cute as you look,” he said, nuzzling his nose into your neck. You gave a soft giggle, accepting his answer.

You settled against him, bringing the milkshake back to your lips. He kept his arm around your shoulders, picking up the sandwiches with his free hand. Taking a bite of one, he then held it towards you. Instead of maybe grabbing the other one, you took his and bit off another piece, much smaller than his, and he watched you fondly as you chewed.

For a while the two of you ate in comfortable silence, still parked at the side of the gas station, leaning against the other. When he gave you the last bite of the second sandwich, he teased his fingers against your jaw.

“Hey, by the way, I am really proud of you, you know that?” he said nonchalantly, emptying the rest of his coffee.

You looked at him with a frown. “For finishing my food?”

He smirked. “That too, of course, but also for voicing what you want. I know it's not easy for you, but you did so well.”

You squirmed away, blushing deeply, but he knew you weren't ashamed, just humbled, probably. “Well, it's easier than to ask for... for something else...”

He nudged your arm. “I bet it is, but you'll get better at that too.”

“Hmm,” you made, licking around your lips, not daring to look at him. He leaned in instead, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your cheek that made you giggle, before he took the empty milkshake cup from your hand and gathered the rest of the trash.

When he opened his door, you looked at him, meeting his gaze. “Be right back,” he told you, adding Stay where you are in his mind, then left the car, disposing of the cups and paper bags in a nearby trashcan. The sun was high in the sky, a few clouds shifting in front of it. He had planned to take you to the mountains early in the day, but somehow you were a bigger distraction than he had thought.

He'd have to take a different route to get there quicker, hoping they'd still have enough daylight to make it to the vantage point he wanted to show you. It'll be fine, he told himself when he returned to the truck. You were still perched on the seat, right in the middle where he left you, watching him curiously when he slipped behind the wheel again.

“You wanna stay here, pumpkin?” he asked, and you nodded, snuggling against him, your legs tucked under your body, knees pressing into his leg, sock-clad feet wriggling beside you on the seat. He smiled, leaning in to fish the middle seat belt up to strap you in. “Safety first,” he mused, his face close to yours. You gave a sweet snicker, and he couldn't help but grab your chin and capture your lips for a short but deep kiss, tasting the remnants of milkshake and sandwich in your mouth.

He had to force himself away eventually, sighing deeply as he put his own seat belt on and started the engine that came to life with a loud roar. He had missed taking the truck out into nature (usually using one of his other cars or getting driven by Isabella's driver when he was in the city), but what he had missed even more was to have a little passenger princess beside him.

His hand slipped to your thigh once he was back on the road, heading straight ahead, and again, you cradled it between your fingers, the touch soft and sweet, if you wouldn't have pushed it closer and closer to the hem of your jean shorts, teasing it between your legs.

“Still hungry, baby girl?” he mused, eyes on the road.

“No, just... it feels nice... having your hand there...”

“Where, pumpkin?” he teased, feeling you squirm against him.

“On my... between my legs...”

“On your what?”

You sighed, but instead of ditching the want or fighting him, you shifted on the seat, spreading your legs a little. You didn't ask him for it, and he might have to teach you some manners in the future, but for now he let it slide when you pressed his fingers right onto your warm mound, his hand so big his thumb was resting on your leg.

“My cunt, Daddy,” you said quietly, closing your thighs around his hand. He gave your crotch a few nudges of his fingers, wishing the thick fabric of your shorts wasn't in the way so he could sink them directly into your slit, but he settled for feeling your warmth and the hint and promise of dampness beyond.

“Good girl,” he praised, meeting your hooded gaze. “Return the favor?” he then asked before looking back at the road.

You complied quickly, one hand still holding his between your legs, the other moving towards his leg, rubbing up his thigh, and he had to fight a little groan when you curled your small hand around the obvious bulge in his pants as if you'd never done anything else. He admired your confidence, but still adjusted your hand to rest comfortably along his cock, pressing his other leg up against the steering wheel for a moment to keep the car steady.

You gave him a gentle squeeze, and he threw you a smirk, rubbing his fingers against the seam of your shorts, and connected as you were, he drove on. A few hours passed before he pulled onto the empty parking lot. It was later than he would have liked, but it would be fine. You had fallen asleep against him, holding onto his cock, lulled by the occasional flick of his wrist.

He carefully peeled his hand away, feeling it tingling from the blood rushing back into his digits. For a moment, he let it rest on your warm thigh, watching you sleep so peacefully. Gone seemed the worried girl who couldn't stop crying as she told them about her failed attempt at life. Who choked on her words as she had to recount the events that led to her ending up on the street.

He knew that in your head, it was a lot worse, and it wasn't easy to begin with, falling into depression, dropping out of college, losing your place to live, unable to return to your family because you didn't have the money (and courage) to do so, but he had been certain that you would prevail.

There had been hope in your big wet eyes, a plea you couldn't word yet. And you pushed through by accepting his and Isabella's offer, probably still unsure what that all entailed, but you grew into your role (or what you thought it was) quickly, minute by minute climbing back out of the dark abyss that had swallowed you whole.

Helping you by simply being there, cuddling you, holding you, praising you, had been a new experience for him too. He'd had submissive partners before, but nobody had been like you, so soft and innocent and helpless in a way that triggered something inside him he hadn't known before. The need to protect, to guide, to pamper. Be a Daddy, a caring authority figure, a father figure even, and not just in sexual ways.

For the first time in his life, he would prefer holding you against him over sinking his cock into your tight cunt and fucking you senseless (he'd do that eventually too, but for now, because you were just getting adjusted, it was enough to simply feel you in his arms). A new chapter, for every party involved.

Inhaling deeply, your sweet scent filling his nostrils, he leaned against you, bringing his lips to your sleep-warm cheek. “Pumpkin,” he whispered softly. “Wake up, sweet girl.”

You startled awake, flinching badly, your hand gripping at his cock which in turn made him shift away with a wince and a stifled laugh. He grabbed your hand and eased it off him, then chuckled softly when you blinked your eyes into focus and stared at him.

“You're alright,” he whispered, cradling your hand in his, giving you a bit of space as you came to. “We're here.”

“Here?” you mouthed before your jaw opened for a big yawn that you didn't even bother to hide. Seeing his amused gaze, you cleared your throat and wiped a bit of drool off your chin, looking around.

“We might have to change our plans a little because we got here so late. Lucky for you, there's also a shorter trail to where we want to go,” he told you, watching you as you stretched, a little squeak escaping you that made his stomach tense. You were so fucking adorable.

“Okay, Daddy,” you whispered, slipping back into your shoes as you sat up straighter on the seat.

His resolve was really tested now. The urge to grab you and devour you, take you in the most primal ways possible, was thrumming low in his guts, his cock straining against his jeans. But he inhaled deeply, closing his eyes for a moment.

“Alright, let's get going before it gets dark, hm?” he then said and slipped out of the car, waiting for you to follow him. You grabbed the backpack from the bench while he took the larger one off the backseat, and together, hand in hand, the two of you started up the trail into the forest, slowly easing your way up the mountain.

He watched you as you admired the nature around you, giggling when a squirrel crossed the path, your mouth agape when you watched a woodpecker hacking away at a nearby tree trunk, your hand squeezing his before you showed him something in the distance. His heart nearly melted by how at ease you were, how easy-going and free, not a single black cloud circling your head at the moment.

He'd do anything to keep it that way.

The trail wound past a thick pine forest on one side and a steep slope dipping down into the thicket on the other, allowing a more or less clear view on the river snaking through the valley below. Most of it was already covered in shadows as the sun was slowly descending behind the mountains, but some areas were still sparkling, clear water rushing by, echoing up all the way to the trail.

You walked silently next to him, pressed to his side when the path got narrower, holding onto his hand and stretching your arm out when you had to climb over an obstacle, never letting go. Even after more than thirty minutes of walking, steadily ascending the mountain, you still looked around in awe, sometimes pausing to marvel at a certain view, showing him things he hadn't noticed before on the many treks he'd taken along this path.

You opened his eyes to new things, and he was grateful, enjoying his time with you more than he had initially thought. He had tried taking his subs here from time to time, but most of them, no matter how obedient, would start complaining and downright protesting after having to walk this much. It didn't matter to him as he did enjoy a good punishment, but it would have been a nice change to just enjoy nature together instead of thinking about ways to properly discipline the girls he had been with.

You, on the other hand, gave him time to let go, to empty his mind, to enjoy the bird song around him, the noises of the forest, the wind in the leaves, to feel the sun on his skin, the breeze in his hair. You were perfect to spend time with.

When the both of you eventually reached the spot he wanted to show you, the sun was just peeking past the top of the mountain, painting everything in a warm orange glow. “Almost there, pumpkin,” he told you, quickly taking you around a bend before you saw it: a little plateau jutting out of the forest, and on top of it sat a watch tower, the smaller kind, to watch animals.

He led you to the steep wooden ladder and helped you up, watching you climb on unsteady legs, the sight of your rear shifting left and right a welcome one. At the top, you crawled over the edge and disappeared, and he quickly followed. You were already standing against the banister, hands curled around the top, looking left and right with your lips parted and your eyes wide. He stepped behind you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders, leaning his chin on top of your head.

“This is beautiful, Daddy,” you whispered, and he followed your gaze, letting his eyes wander over the valley below, the river twinkling in the last rays of the sun, the mountains dark and imposing behind it, endless rows of trees filling the slopes. He lowered his head and turned it, pressing his lips to your warm cheek.

“You are beautiful,” he said quietly, making you squirm and giggle. “You are. My perfect little girl...”

You looked at him, meeting his gaze, then meeting his lips, the kiss slow and gentle, your hands finding his forearms as you leaned into him. He inhaled you, holding you closer, feeling your soft breaths and little twitches. The vantage point and its pretty view was forgotten as he pulled you onto the little bench on the side of the structure, settling you on his lap.

Your hands on his shoulders, his hands on your face, lips sliding and pressing, tongues gliding and delving deep. The noises around you faded as the sun set behind the mountain, plunging the world into darkness, a gentle glow left on the horizon. He focused on kissing you, tasting you, until you were both breathless, leaning into each other, his large hands rubbing over your bare arms, caressing the goosebumps away.

“Are you cold?” he whispered.

You pressed into him. “A little,” you murmured barely audible.

He pulled the backpack closer that he'd barely had time to put down before his desires had taken over. Without letting go of you, he extended a hand and rummaged through it before pulling out a thick blanket. He'd planned to put it down on the meadow next to the tower, enjoying a nice picnic with you, but with the light gone, that wouldn't happen. So he threw it around your shoulders instead, wrapping you up completely.

You snuggled into him, your cheek pressed to his shoulder. “Thank you, Daddy,” you breathed softly. “For this and for taking me here... it was really special.”

“You're welcome, sweetheart,” he replied, pulling you even tighter against him as he looked over your head and past the balustrade into the approaching night. “But it's not over yet.”

“What do you mean?” you whispered, sounding rather sleepy.

“When I knew we'd come here so late, I remembered that there is a little cabin nearby. We didn't bring any necessities, but I think we can skip your night routine for once, hm, pumpkin?”

You tilted your head back to look at him, a frown on your forehead. “We're spending the night here?”

“Mommy will be furious, but it can't be helped. I'm not taking you through the forest at night,” he explained, shifting on the hard bench. “It's only a few yards down the hill, and luckily I did think to bring a flashlight.”

Your lips twitched as you watched him. “Sounds good, Daddy,” you mused, your hands digging into the fabric of his shirt. “As long as you're with me, I feel safe.”

“You do?” he whispered, a little surprised by your words.

“Yes,” you breathed, scooting closer to nestle your face into the crook of his neck. “And you're warm and strong and I know you would never hurt me.”

“Of course not, pumpkin!” He blinked, rubbing your back, furrowing his eyebrows at the way you worded that. “I'll always protect you.”

You hummed against him. It really was unusual how quickly you started to trust him. But it just showed him how dire your need for a caregiver was, for someone to hold you, to give you attention, to be there. It might have been only about forty-eight hours since you left the streets to come live with him and Isabella, but it felt like so much longer already. He inhaled deeply, burying his nose in your hair.

“Oh pumpkin,” he breathed, closing his eyes. “My sweet little pumpkin...”

He heard your soft giggle as you squirmed on his lap, your arms wrapping around his neck as you inched closer to him, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. It was getting darker and darker, but he would always be able to see the hopeful innocence shining in your eyes.

“Are you okay, Daddy?” you whispered, your breath fanning over his lips.

“Never better, sweet girl,” he replied, leaning in to press a kiss to the tip of your nose. “You just make me really happy, you know? I'm old, let me be sentimental.”

You chuckled quietly. “You're not old, Daddy,” you said softly, your fingers brushing up his neck into his hair, sending pleasant shivers down his spine. “You're well-seasoned, experienced, knowledgeable...” He watched you as you listed those traits, the warmth radiating off your cheeks.

Nosing at your temple, he smirked at you. “Well-seasoned, huh? I think you are indeed still hungry...” he said, grabbing your waist under the blanket to dig his fingers into your sides until you writhed on his lap, gasping for air after a full-blown laughing fit shook you.

“Daddy!” you squeaked, your hands heavy on his shoulders.

He let go of you, only to wrap his arms around your back and pull you flush against him, his mouth inches away from yours. “Would you like another taste of Daddy, pumpkin?” he whispered, licking his lips, feeling his cock stir to life beneath you.

He heard your sharp inhale, felt your burning skin, but he also saw the jerky nod you issued before you buried your face in his neck, clinging to his shoulders, a little shudder crashing through your small body.

“Let's get to that cabin then, hm?” he whispered, standing up slowly, the bundle of limbs and hair and blanket tight in his arms. He put you to your feet, digging through the backpack to fish the flashlight out. Switching it on, he placed it into your hands, considering putting the blanket back, but deciding against it. The night was chilly, and you were only wearing that cute kitten shirt (and it was too dark to appreciate your stiff nipples beneath).

After shouldering his backpack, he told you to stay put as he climbed down the ladder first, then waved at you to follow him.

They were quickly losing light, the last glow vanishing behind the mountains. The flashlight didn't do much, but it was enough to illuminate the path to the cabin. When he reached it, his hand tight around yours, he realized he might have exaggerated things a bit. The cabin was more of a shed, the only window was a little glass pane in the door, but at least it had a roof and four walls, which was hopefully enough protection against any nighttime critters or bigger animals.

He ushered you inside and closed the door. “Well, this is home sweet home for the night I guess,” he said, looking around as you shone the flashlight from wall to wall. It was one of those hiker huts, just a place to stay, one wall lined with two very primitive looking beds, just raised wooden slabs, really, but it had to do. “Sorry, pumpkin. I promise I'll make it up to you.”

Instead of saying anything or showing disdain about your situation, you stepped forward and snaked your arms around his waist, pressing your face into his chest.

“It's perfect, Daddy,” you whispered. “And I'm sure you will...”

Chapter 5 🔷️ Chapter 6 🔷️ Chapter 7

End notes: So Mommy and Daddy have names, how about that. It just fit the story, what can I say. You can still imagine them however you like, though. There will be a few more Mommy/Daddy POV chapters in the future, just to switch things up.

Thank you for reading! New chapter every Saturday!

Up next: After spending the night in the woods, you find that Mommy isn't too happy with Daddy for disrupting her plans with you...

MASTERLIST 🔷️ AO3 🔷️ ORIGINAL WORKS

[orphicsun]

all this talk about brothels in zaun i forgot that there’s most definitely strip clubs. now im thinking about stripper reader giving a dance to vi😋

CONTENT: Mentions of horny thoughts, alcohol, and drugs, club setting (strippers and all that good stuff), lap dance (v! receiving), no smut but some grinding, Vi barely touches your nipples that's all she gets unfortunately:((

A/N: you are so right omg I didn't even think of that. love you for this one anon, enjoy<3 Sorry for being a tease with this but I have to make things fun for myself I write smut all the time

Bright, hot pink lights flash over in every direction. The club is packed with all sorts of people, from chembarons to Jinxers, big, buff men and other small and timid. Some are here to get high or drink 'till their hearts content, and that's what Vi thought she showed up for, not to be lumped in with the desperately horny bitches who just came to watch girls spin around a pole. However, upon seeing you, her mindset changes rather quickly.

Your hands wrap around the metal, one leg hitched around the pole, and you move with grace she used to think was impossible for someone in an explicit career choice. It's not even just that, though. Your lacy outfit.. you adorn a pink mesh fabric that leaves nothing to the imagination and gives Vi an irreparable sweet tooth. Suddenly, all of the money she previously wanted to spend on vodka goes towards getting at least one good performance from you.

-

Your body feels even better against her than she could have ever imagined.. your thighs straddle over lap as you grind down onto it in a subtle but suggestive way. Your manicured nails trail over her collarbones and up to cup her face, your smile so sickly and yet lacking of enough sustenance for her to feel satisfied. Her hands don't hesitate to hold onto your hips, trying to finally get her fill of you.

"You paid more than you needed to, you know that?" You tease, your mostly bare thighs shifting against the black material of her jeans.

"I would argue that I didn't pay you enough," She shoots back with a cocky grin. You seem intrigued by her. Many of your lap dances are given to cheap men who reek of alcohol and cigarette smoke. Vi, as messy as she looks, reminds you of something better than all of Zaun.

As the performance continues, Vi feels as though she is losing herself watching you move. Every subtle brush, every slight grind, it all drives her crazy. The club lights shining over and the extreme noise bursting from the main section of the club, but she doesn't give a fuck about that. All she really can focus on is the way each movement sends her deep into the rabbit hole of you. Each little kiss you plant on her in innocent but teasing places leaves her wishing she could just throw you over her shoulder and take you home, fuck you so roughly for being a huge tease. She can't do that, though; truth is, she's enjoying how much of a tease you are. For once, she enjoys the pure build-up. You grind against her and though the friction isn't meant to actually feel good, she swears she can, and your hair shines a tinted pink as the lights graze it, your face dark and yet so close to hers.

"Your time's almost up, sweetie." Your movements almost slow down to a halt, but Vi quickly grabs your hips, catching you by surprise. She slips a couple more coins into your bra, her hand brushing against your nipple ever so slightly.

"This'll last me a while, don't you think?" Her grin is so clear, she is just so so okay with staying at this club with you all night, even if all she gets is a little lap dance. She should be worried about the fact that all of her money is about to go towards you, that this is definitely an act of seduction you're working on her. It might as well have been magic. She can't really care when you shrug and flash that sugary smile once more, your body moving on top of hers once more.

Vi left the club that night at 4 in the morning and with a practically empty wallet, but it was so fucking worth it.

[sukunasun]

may i pls get some alpha sukuna… he’s so nasty (affectionate)

sukuna's every bit the perfect alpha on paper. ask the potential omegas lining up to fix a nest in his home and watch them salivate for a knot so large and a bond so deep. an alpha they'll present and prostrate for. there are rumours about the sheer weight and size of his cock, the heady pheromones, not to mention his week-long ruts. call it an impossible excursion—a breeding fuckfest with only one thing in mind. to be used and bred full of his pups. a litter or two or more. fucking without care—brutal, relentless, and insatiable.

but forget that his reputation precedes him. sukuna's true value as an alpha stands solely on his capability to hunt and chase, to capture a coveted mate he keeps...or lack thereof.

contrary to the rules of ritual, courting is by far the least of sukuna's priorities. turning his nose up at romance and the like when he's had potential mates eating out the palm of his hand since the beginning. there's no need to make a song and dance about it when he'd have his pick and fill of omegas without needing to try. much less convince them of his oh so superior traits.

he's attractive, you'll give him that. most alphas are. but there's something extra special about a tall man with tattoos and a mean side. such callousness. oozing masculinity and hot-blooded need. like an impending storm. too intense, too forthcoming, and way more than you're prepared for. after all, an unmated alpha is an available alpha and you're not one to compete.

'she's so inadequate for a mate. he'll reject her soon.' they say. any time now and some other needy thing might just swoop in to take her place. someone who's deserving of it.

what a waste, you've gotten the attention of the most powerful alpha you've ever met and want nothing to do with it—a self-righteous omega who believes alphas should know better. why give in to such baser instincts, how primitive, how primal. moreso in this day and age when suppressants are readily available and cycles can be tracked to a T.

which is why you don't look back when his gaze lingers a bit too long. adding distance when he not-so-subtly attempts to leave his scent on you. going as far as to turn him down the first time he cages you in and offers—upfront and blatantly—to 'help you out' with your next heat. as if you were some charity case. "promise i won't bite," he teases you about your barren neck and inexperience, unable to hide the smirk on his face.

"i'm not interested," you scoff, leaving him there with a hard-on in his pants and no relief. he might be a prized alpha but you won't entertain the idea of proving yourself. stroking his ego and preening for him. you were just as valuable of a partner despite being beyond your prime years with zero experience and still unmated.

••••••••••••••••••••

the only problem is that he won't take no for an answer.

he's made his choice among the other blurred faces and dull scents. been waiting a long time for someone as irresistible as you. "do you fear me?" he asks the moment you bend over his kitchen counter. he allows himself a peek at a round ass and soft hips, also to sniff at your scent permeating the air. omega. he knows as much. you make it pretty obvious with your distaste for alphas. but the sweet-scented slick between your legs is as telling.

geez. he thinks. those suppressants of yours are next to useless if you're already dripping this much within proximity to an alpha. not just any alpha either, sukuna's well aware you're beginning to fall for him. you want him so bad and it's so unfair. he's barely even touched you. but only because he's wondering if your underwear would survive the rest of the day. 'what if she's wearing a thong and her thighs get drenched too.' he grins like a wolf at the thought.

you admit with a heavy heart, "i'm more afraid of what i'm like with you." because how does one resist his advances. sukuna pushes the envelope just enough to make your knees buckle. his domineering aura makes everyone else cower in fear under a cold gaze but watch how it turns into a dreamy one when you push his face away after a kiss gets heated. his incisors poke you slightly like a teasing taunt and you find yourself fighting the pleasure.

"it's natural," he'll justify. how your body longs so desperately to belong to this alpha. succumbing to his...ferventness. his large, heated hands roaming over your breasts hidden underneath his shirt. the collar's too wide but it gives him room to wrap his fist delicately around your neck. you bite back an excited squeal when it feels so right.

••••••••••••••••••••

there's something off about him when sukuna returns home late that night. an unfamiliar scent lingers on his clothing and your stomach twist with a possessive feeling. the same one that eats you alive to the point of guilt. you smell it the moment he walks through the door of your bedroom. 

nothing like yours, it's not sharp enough to be daunting nor is it reminiscent of an alpha's scent. but it's potent. almost as if they were doing it on purpose. releasing their pheromones so he'd pick up on it, or worse, that you'd notice.

you try not to jump to any conclusions and you don't want to be jealous, but it's hard having your boyfriend come home with the smell of another omega on him.

you straddle him against the headboard with a hardened look on your face. involuntarily snarling as you peel his suit jacket off. shirt buttons coming apart under your rushed hands.

he grins at your ferocious display. reminds him of an angry kitten. he grinds his hips upwards, keeping you in place with steady hands. bouncing you on top of his clothed cock wasn't in the plans tonight, he thought he'd shower off the stench. it's not like it was strong enough to affect him.

but he tries to get you off instead, while he tries to get himself some self-control. "feel good?" he dares to question when you're practically losing your mind, a sudden spike of lust spurs in your belly, incited with just that little bit of friction. hoping feverishly that the scent of fresh arousal will be overridden by heat and breathy gasps through gritted teeth.

you're hardly in a headspace to reply but an eager nod shall suffice. "didn't think you'd be the jealous type," you feel him nipping at your ear, trailing sloppy kisses down your neck, the slight graze of teeth against freshly washed and oiled skin,

"i'm not jealous—" you lie. holding back a moan when he rocks a little faster, writhing atop him in pleasure. your nipples have risen taut against your nightgown and it makes an incredibly lewd sight. sitting in his lap so compliantly.

“i'd want them to watch us,” he whispers and you'd never do such a thing but the idea turns you on. he tells you that back in ancient times they used to partake in mating rituals and bonding ceremonies. privacy was more a privilege then and so was having an audience. that other omegas and betas would know of their place. how insignificant they are, if only they could watch you now, pussy fluttering and juices leaking all over their prized alpha.

••••••••••••••••••••

sukuna watches your face as you come undone for the fourth time. shushes your sobbing cries with a gentle hand caressing your back. "you don't have to worry," he's too busy holding himself back to find another.

says he wants to do things on your own terms and timing. swears that he won't easily fall prey to the lingering sweet-scented air around you, perfumed syrup and sugar. gently skimming his lips and tongue over a soft nape, a supple shoulder. he'll settle for merely licking the flesh he wishes to sink his teeth into. a caress, a chaste kiss, but never bruising or breaking.

he swallows the protest to earn your approving smile in return. it's enough of a struggle seeing you prancing around unaffected while he's been dying to fuck you senseless. to do what's natural to him. "it's wrong for an unmated couple to live together," seems to be everyone else's motto and he'd like to laugh but there's a shred of truth to it. he realises that it's impossible when he wants to fuck all. the. time.

gritting his teeth and forcing a smile when he's hit with a waft of your scent, he knows you're turned on. you want it just as much—every heat spent away from him in separate rooms. he smells your slick calling out to him. hears your moans poorly muffled and overshadowed by the sounds of you fucking yourself. your pussy bare and gleaming, he'll get on his knees for a taste. prying your twitching thighs apart, forcing them open if he has to, his lips nibbling and sucking your clit til you're crying from the pleasure, thrumming his tongue so fast it drives you crazy. all for the tang of your squirt staining his tastebuds and mussed-up sheets below.

but he shouldn't live life by the balls. no matter how full and heavy they get with the need for release. preferably inside you, so deep and plenty he finds himself picturing it at random times of the day. zoning out in his office, in the middle of traffic. how full you'd look with your belly bulging out. would it drip between your pussy lips or should he plug you with his cock instead, refusing a single drop to leak.

still, he wills himself to stay within your bounds. being lustful and possessive isn't anything to be ashamed of. it's part of his makeup but he's more than that. two people are perfectly capable of looking beyond their sex and desires—or so you tell him.

••••••••••••••••••••

his rut arrives when his symptoms not-so casually appear in the middle of the week. pheromones and a temper not even you can subdue. he's biting into his knuckles from the arousal spurred on by great timing and comically predictable circumstances—just the smell and sight of you there, happily unaware and otherwise tempting.

maybe your expectations have been exceedingly high. you can't change his nature. but how dare he forbid you from entering the home you shared, spare keys hidden and passcodes altered. "leave—" he warns, then breathes a frustrated sigh, "—it's not safe."

not that he feels particularly sorry about his tone, but what separates him from you is but a door and a razor-thin resolve. he's at his limit. he won't survive this on suppressants alone. not with you looking the way you do. "how can i help?" you ask worriedly, wrecking your head over him. wanting to comfort and coddle. for someone who turns their nose up at omegan stereotypes, you're playing the part so perfectly it drives him mad.

because it's the worst experience for an alpha to go through a rut alone. you'd understand the pain of having to suppress a heat. all the years dealing with the fevers and cramps. milk leaking from your sore nipples wishing he'd be there to relieve the pressure. a nest of him and only him. grinding and burrowing within amber, musk, and spice. intoxicating, intense, chasing after the smell found in his sweat-drenched tee, a wrinkled white shirt bearing smoke and aftershave on its collar. snuggling his pillow and getting off with your fingers or a whirring toy at its highest speed, but it's not enough, never enough. pussy contracting on absolutely nothing.

his den is dark and moody when you step inside. slipping into a frenzied haze, there he lazes with legs spread on your shared bed big enough for four, it stretches wider than you remembered, or maybe it's that you've yet to see it in this light, waiting to be broken in and littered with your belongings. he's grabbed at them in a rush. whatever your scent clung to. your duvet, your stuffed toy, and pretty, day-old crimson panties gripped in the same fist he pumps his cock with.

the threads fray, soaked fabric snapping and stretching with every drag down his shaft. rip. rip. rippp. a hole tears through when he tugs too hard and that heavy thing slaps over his stomach with a resounding smack.

you see it for the first time and wonder why not sooner. the perfect dick hiding in plain sight. actually, that's not true. you just haven't seen it this up close and personal. but given the sneak peeks—when the steam clears in the shower and it hangs soft and hefty, the way it juts out of tight gym shorts, or just...the swell of it rubbing in between your ass cheeks when he gets needy—none of them could've prepared you for this.

sukuna thinks it’s so ugly and brutish. he's found many an opportunity to tell you so, even now as his head cranes backwards with a frustrated groan, a growl that rumbles from somewhere deep within. ”it's enough to scare off any omega—” he says, a knowing smirk on his face when he can practically smell the slick dribbling down your thighs, saturating your panties, "—but not you."

a thick vein throbs on the underside, tip bulging and a little darker than the shaft, girthy and gushing with precum. his balls are heavy, taut with tension under the soft skin, and you shudder at the thought of what his knot would look like...who would've thought that such a monstrous-looking thing would have this much of an effect on you. weak in the knees and stomach fluttering in anticipation. the way it seems oh so daunting, how are you meant to take all of that inside you. if he laid the entire thing right against your stomach, how far would it go? it'd be enough to knock the wind out of you.

you try to calm your nerves. it's just a rut. it'll be over in no time. quick and simple. although you've read plenty of stories and watched the videos to know this wouldn't be a passionate embrace. no tenderness or care for your pleasure let alone your comfort. you wish to believe that he'll be careful if not a bit rough. and maybe a part of you wants to please him. despite all your certainties, would it be so bad to make him feel good and satisfy his needs? would it be wrong to wish for his scent mark, and his bonding bite. to be claimed and chosen.

it's an expression you've never seen before. as if he wants to devour you. he won't explain himself as he makes you watch. turning you into a voyeur as the urge takes over him. hooded eyes locked on yours, his blown-out pupils and slobbering drool are enough evidence for you—he intends to mate.

whimpering his name does nothing to quell his madness or ministrations. he's so far gone you don't think he comprehends the things he says, "can't wait to knot you...breed you...been wanting to taste you for so long..." he purrs, low and rumbling from his chest. sharp teeth grazing against your earlobe teasingly but never biting down on the cartilage, just a light nibble that turns you into a shivering mess. he's caught you within his jaws and your instincts argue against your better judgement, you're beyond fighting and struggling now while your weak hands push against his hulking mass to no avail.

yet, it's thrilling. amazing even. an alpha pinned atop you and nowhere to run. his nose nuzzling the crook of your neck, the back of your ear, both your arms lifted in his singlehanded grasp. he dives for every inch of skin, every spot that bears your aroma the strongest, going as far into the divot of your armpit while he's laving at the salt and sweat greedily. his saliva scenting sugar-sweet skin, marking you as his chosen victim. "you're so dirty—" is more of a plea for him to snap out of it. already embarrassed, exposed, and so eager.

he takes a pebbled nipple between his teeth and swirls his tongue around the tip of it. you're too distracted to realise he hadn't responded to your quip, because your scent told him all he needed to know, so did the soft whimper when he abandons one nipple, and the moan when he takes the other in his mouth.

there's a way to do things and sukuna's way is unmerciful. a man has never been this good at finding a clit, which is probably why his tongue won't leave it alone. he keeps his tongue broad until it comes out of hiding before he's got his lips wrapped around. he sucks on it languidly. pulls away just to spit and slaver, blow a raspberry for fun. marvelling at the drool and the mess you've made.

no time to waste when most of it was spent not eating your pussy. sukuna hums and hungrily feasts, tongue flicking frantically. your screams come out involuntarily, unable to hold back your moans coming out in short staccato bursts. a little panicked, but nonetheless agreeable. "something's happening! wait—" you hiss when it starts to burn a little. your hips lifting off the bed while his fingers keep prodding that special spot inside.

it only makes it all the more pleasurable when the pressure builds, when the squeeze feels so tight. you clench and feel every pass of his digits, every purposeful lick. "—kuna, i think i'm gonna—" his fingers quicken while his other forearm presses down on your pelvis to keep you in place and it's more than enough to make you come hard. gushing again and again, streaking the sheets and his smug expression.

"i've always wanted to do that," he admits cheekily. a face you can't stop admiring now that it's covered in your juices. your legs tremble and you can't catch your breath whilst he's leaving gentle kisses on your oversensitive lips, but he's far from finished with you.

with his cock leaking in his hold, he taps it on your sticky heat for good measure before gliding it back and forth, the opening of his cock prodding, getting caught on your clit as he slips in slow. with how thick he is, you feel every ridge and vein. gasping at the first push and fisting the sheets to try and accommodate.

unsurprisingly, it hurts just a pinch. "please,” you mewl, just that single word slipping past ragged breaths as you struggle. throat dry and crackly from the heaving and the foggy, post-orgasm haze. you don't know if you want him to stop or to go on but—"what if it can't fit?" you're genuinely concerned because it might not physically fit. already full to the brim, your pussy stretches so snugly around his shaft like a glove.

"there's a lot more to go," he hints at the rest of his cock he's yet to sheath inside you. "but we'll make it fit," a large palm rests over your womb as he swipes his thumb against your clit, hoping it'll ease the discomfort.

you nod weakly, whimpering "i trust you," but he's so big. you can feel your pussy trying to suck him in, a bead of sweat travels down your chest. mouth falling open as he slips in a little at a time, girth forcing your entrance to open wider. buries his cock in the one pussy he’s fantasized about the most and ruts like he's always wanted to.

••••••••••••••••••••

on the third day, you start getting restless. feeling sore and exhausted while running on no sleep and little bites of food. the room is in dire need of fresh air and the bed frame is on its last legs, but sukuna's urges grow stronger by the day. he barely manages to pull out to hydrate before he goes back to fucking you. always so slow and gentle, however, your moans and whines spill out, slowly but surely you succumb to every orgasm that rocks through you. wave after rippling wave.

still hard and throbbing the entire time. it's probably because every time your neck cranes upwards as an offering, baring your mating gland, he avoids it. fighting it. "why won't you knot me?" comes out sounding pouty and petulant but you don't care. your delectable scent slowly fades into a bitter note, anxiety and insecurity filling your voice. sukuna hasn't even tried to push it past your folds. steadily milking his knot outside of where it should be with his own hands is enough of a blatant rejection.

he reminds himself that he'd sworn to never let it go that far, knotting you would change everything, what if you couldn't see him the same way, that he was just another alpha who took you for himself. "i can't," guilt laces his voice and so does his frustration when his conscience appears from behind the pussy-drunk fog. his heart bleeding, his instincts yearning. 'i don't want to hurt you' is what he means. but what you hear in your dejected state is 'you won't be able to handle it.'

was it your inexperience that made him uninterested? you knew alphas liked them subservient, obedient. just like an omega should be. taking his knot without qualms. consummating in perfect rhythm. a tinge of pain shoots through your chest at the thought—sukuna could have any omega he wants, you've kept him waiting too long, you've made him doubt. you're not able to keep up, to please him, to be enough...despite giving in. despite trying your best to take him. he won't claim you,' says the voice in your head.

a whimper breaks from you at his words. you shouldn't have to ask, this was meant to be innate, instinctual, not something he has to restrain himself from. "aren't i your mate? don't i belong to you?" you sob, hot tears flowing down your cheeks.

he presses his forehead to yours, "you're gonna bleed, i might break you," he tries to explain, getting uncharacteristically soft in the moment. it's your fault for stumbling across a wounded beast. finding your way into his broken heart. binding the pieces back together while you soothe the aches and kiss his scars. 'yes you belong to me.' his beautiful omega who begs so nicely to be mated, if this is what you're like three days in, he longs to see what you're like in heat.

you shake your head, getting stubborn. you won't accept it and you're on the verge of clawing at him to get away. you've been ready at his mercy and what for. just to come out the other end dissatisfied and unfulfilled. fuck. you just want it to be done with. defile me, ravage me, you want him completely.

in an attempt to fight him, you let out a harmless threat, one you regret the moment it's uttered because you've gone too far—"if you won't do it, i'll find another alpha who will!"

suddenly, sukuna's thoughts are invaded by that sick thought. scenes of you naked and oozing slick. pinned beneath another alpha, his weight pressing into you along with his knot, glaring at him as he makes his claim the way he couldn't and it makes him snap.

the growling sound that leaves his mouth is a warning, and so is the hand that slips around your throat. large fingers coming together around your neck. the squeeze cutting your gasp short. it should frighten you, he could snap your neck as easily as it is to split a matchstick in half and right now, he seems just about ready to.

"careful now, omega," he spits out, teeth bared and demanding submission. forbidding and looming above you, his fist tightens ever so slightly. "you've forgotten your place," it seems you've misjudged your role and the precarious position you're in. fucked out in his den, in his bed. intentionally riling him up won't do you any good. no one touches you, scents you, or claims you but him no matter how your feet kick him uselessly, he doesn't move an inch.

"i'm sorry—" you pant, "i'll be good, i promise." you squirm and wriggle underneath, uncertain if you should run or relish in it. so ominous it turns you on even more. he's never put you in your place like this and you think you should make him jealous more often if it means he'd choke you out and go feral on your pussy.

"is that so?" he tries again. presses his cock in slowly inch by inch. feeling your pussy open up and yield to his girth. sukuna leans in close so he gets to watch your eyes roll back. bullies his way through with one deep thrust and finds himself balls-deep. "you want it so bad? want me to ruin this perfect pussy all because you wanna cum all over my knot, i won't stop til you're screaming and milking me dry—"

muscle memory forces your back to arch towards him. his broad chest against your nipples, delicious hot skin rubbing your hardened nubs the right way. he stills for a moment before he withdraws slowly, a mix of pleasure and anticipation coiling in your belly.

watching him, watching you. he looks down and groans at the obscene sight of cream and slick coating his shaft, viscous and too much to bear. the bulge in your tummy protrudes where his cock takes up all that space, rearranging your guts had never looked this lewd.

when his knot finally kisses your entrance, you feel it hot and prodding against you. desperate for him shove it in. to feel it pop through and nestle so deep, all the way to the hilt while he stays there and unloads himself inside you. balls twitching, sitting in a warm crook he’s found. your omega instincts sing at the thought of him filling you up. "knot me, breed me, my alpha—" you cry. begging for it, hot and immensely copious. a sticky mess all over, both the mattress completely drenched in fluids and your insides coated in his seed.

he feels the give of your womb, the tightness around the head of his cock. groaning at the sensation. just a little bit more and he'd be buried, finally. he fucks you violently, no holds barred. hands gripping your hips so achingly tight he might shatter your pelvis into pieces. you'll count the bruises later on but shall forgive him for the fact that he's cumming his brains out.

you're crying and babbling mindlessly, yes yes just like that. your limbs begin to shake as your peak edges closer, hand gripping his bicep while bracing yourself. wild and frantic hips jerking and shallow thrusts bumping and nudging against your cervix. striking deep and rocking you against the sheets.

your shivering doesn't go unnoticed and there he leans in to give your oiled and mouth-watering neck a final lick, shushing you with a gentle, calming kiss to your mating gland in preparation for his teeth.

and when he finally pushes his knot in, cock piercing your womb as your pussy clamps down viciously on its slim spot at the base, his teeth spears into your flesh with ease. there's the give of taut skin and tight muscle but soon he settles deep enough for blood to trickle and you come several times, pulsing and fluttering along multiple orgasms rolling in after the next, enough that you're shaking in his hold.

you cry and cry, overstimulated, sensitive, and so in love. not only with how full you feel but you surprise him with your own teeth sinking down into his trapezius, not too deep into muscle but just enough to leave tiny dents in his skin. your chattering jaw and slippery lips can't find purchase while you're preoccupied with whining his name. so you try again, this time closer to his neck.

sukuna catches on to your efforts and finds it all the more endearing. helping you find the perfect spot, he manoeuvres his neck closer while you give him light nibbles and sharp pinprick nips here and there but they're all too soft to pierce the skin. "do it," he pants, "mark me anywhere, i'm yours."

it must be his words that urge you but you think it's more to do with the greed roiling inside you. you want to leave a mark that he'd never be able to cover up. by the time he's grinding his knot into you again, pulling at your hips and guiding you on it like a toy, milking him of whatever's left, your lips part around the front of his neck without any more hesitation. inhaling his scent deeply, the vibrations of his groans rattling against your teeth, before biting down on his throat. teeth embedded deep and tongue lapping at his bobbing adam's apple.

he leans in to kiss you filthy and open-mouthed, tongues swapping spit and bloody iron while your thumbs caress his jaw and neck, adding a little pressure to the spot where his freshly bitten mating gland throbs quickly. a hummingbird wingbeat beneath your fingertips.

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

I would like to humbly request any Genshin Pyro ladies of your choice warming up their S/O with their Visions.

(Genshin Impact) Amber, Xinyan, Dehya, Hu Tao, Yoimiya warming their S/O with their Vision

Amber knows how to warm S/O up!

She lights one of her arrows on fire light the fireplace, smiling proudly at herself.

(Amber) "Hah! I knew I should've tried that a long time ago!"

S/O chuckled, moving their seat closer as they turned to Amber.

(S/O) "You mean this is the first time you've tried it?"

(Amber) "My Vision keeps me warm usually, so I've never really had a need to!"

(S/O) "...Fair point."

Amber sat with S/O, snuggling closer to them, her smile growing bigger.

(S/O) "Thank you dear.~"

(Amber) "Hehe...! Want me to make you a baron bunny blanket?"

(S/O) "As long as it doesn't explode...wait, can you make something like that explode?"

(Amber) "I...dunno, actually. Hm, that sounds kinda cool!"

Xinyan's first move was to grab an extra blanket for S/O, like a normal person.

Until S/O spoke up.

(S/O) "Wait...can you use your vision to make it a little warmer?"

(Xinyan) "My visi-?...Now, why in the heck would I use my vision to warm ya up when I could just getcha 'nother layer?"

(S/O) "So you don't have to get up...!"

(Xinyan) "...Ya just wanna see if yer idea works, don'tcha?"

(S/O) "Would you say no if I said yes?"

Xinyan sighs and decides to tap into it, ever so slightly so she doesn't burn S/O and the rest of the house down.

And much to her own surprise, the warmth emanating from her body worked like a charm for S/O.

(Xinyan) "Well, I guess if it ain't dumb if it works..."

(S/O) "Hey, what better way to sleep off the cold with my very hot girlfriend?"

(Xinyan) "Did ya go the trouble of asking me just to make that dang pun?!"

Dehya wasn't surprised S/O was cold. Nights in the desert was unforgivingly frigid.

Even inside their tent and sleeping bags, S/O was shivering. Dehya meanwhile was relatively fine, surprising given the lack of clothes she normally wears.

Then again, she was used to this by now.

So, she scooted closer to S/O and used her vision to warm the tent up subtly, smiling once she saw their shivering stop.

(Dehya) "Much better, huh?"

She knew they couldn't hear her, so Dehya just kisses their cheek and rolls onto her back, smiling and falling asleep.

Dehya never thought her Vision could help with something so small, but now she was glad more than ever to have it.

Hu Tao just wants to give S/O a heart attack by shooting out a sudden flame.

(Hu Tao) "Cold? No you're not!-"

S/O yelps once a small flame shoots past them and onto the candle.

(S/O) "What the heck are you doing?! We're inside!"

(Hu Tao) "I know! That's why I did it!"

S/O sighed, shaking their head while Hu Tao simply laughed.

(S/O) "I swear...-"

(Hu Tao) "I'm not hearing a thank you, S/O!"

(S/O) "I'll thank you to not burn the house down, Hu Tao."

(Hu Tao) "Your welcome, I can do it any time!"

(S/O) sigh

Yoimiya used her Vision to light up her fireworks all the time!

But she never really thought about it using it like a heater at night, though that was mostly due to Inazuma's climate in general.

S/O was cold, them hogging the blanket being a telltale sign.

And so, Yoimiya knew what to do!

She closed her eyes and focused the power from her vision-

Accidentally setting off a firework that was outside rocketing into the sky and startling them both awake.

The power was a little too intense it seemed.

(S/O) "W-WHA?!...Ugh, Yoimiya...!-"

(Yoimiya) "H-Hey! I swear this time it wasn't on purpose! I just wanted to get you a little warmer!"

(S/O) "It's appreciated sweetie but...I thought you got all the fireworks put away."

(Yoimiya) "I...hah, guess I didn't...?"

S/O just rolled over and hugged Yoimiya tighter, a tired chuckle escaping their lips.

(S/O) "I think this can warm me up too."

(Yoimiya) "Hm...Yeah, I think I like this better too..."

Next time, she was triple check if there was anything outside that could be lit and prevent it from ruining her romantic moment!

[baldursgate3tempobsessed]

Astarion Very Happy Ending

So full disclosure, my Tav was a Selunite, and I can't stop thinking well if Bhaal can have a mortal chosen one, why can't Selune?

Also, spoiler warning, stop reading here if you don't want, but like damn girl I freaking turn a Shar priestess away from her god back to you, free a man from his devil's contact, high-key save the world, kill bhaals chocen, convince my vampiric lover to not sacrifice thousands of people, stop an entire goblin army from murdering Tieflings and druids alike, and literally free your daughter. A reward is in order!

This is that reward:

Astarion was slowly getting used to living in the shadows again, as loathe as he was to admit it. It was quite the transition, despite the fact that his time in the sun had amounted to less than a year. But what a lovely year it was. Nearly a perfect one in comparison to the rest of his life. And the promise of more of the same was a suitable balm to being cursed back into the darkness.

It was difficult, but with the love of his life by his side it was more than tolerable. Borderline beautiful in fact, to be able to live his life so freely despite the infuriating complications.

The money also certainly helped.

That was one thing Astarion always had over his brothers and sisters, his fantasies of a better life had always surrounded around Cazador's murder. Not his approval. He may have been completely unaware of the horrifying dungeon beneath their feet, but he did know where the deed to his estate and other properties were kept. And now had enough connections with the higher up's of Baldur's gate for some frankly exquisite forgeries. It had been a particularly satisfying feeling to sell all of his former master's possessions off, even more so when it came to the land. Almost like he was tearing apart his legacy and handing it off to the highest bitter, piece by piece.

Though, being there with you to find and settle in your own little corner of paradise was an even better feeling. Maybe it didn't quite reach his past dreams of grandeur, but it turned out settling in a quaint and poorly lit townhouse in the upper city was more than enough for him to be satisfied.

It was a good charming life, one that Astarion was sure he didn't deserve. But that certainly wasn't going to stop him from enjoying it. Though as much as he adored where he ended up, he'd be lying if he said it was perfect.

No, perfect would have been finding a way for him to ascend without becoming a monster, living in a world where he could be with you fully, completely, out in the sun like the kind of lover you deserved. It made him feel... startlingly inadequate. Everything you did had to be in accordance to his schedule. His lack of capabilities. And just because you always insisted it didn't matter didn't fix the feeling of inadequacy. He hated it, hated the fact that there were so many hours of the day that you couldn't share. He didn't regret his choice, not for a moment, but that didn't mean he was fully satisfied with the consequences.

But in his own defense, he did make up for it in other ways. Mildly frustrating and draining ways, if not a bit rewarding. It had been his own fault, falling so utterly and completely for such a goody two-shoes. A zealot to Selune, as fierce as she was compassionate, always trying to do what was fair and just. Always dragging Astarion on for the ride of her cleric duties.

But he couldn't blame you for all of his new do-gooder ways. Not when he was nearly the leader of a bizarre cult of repentant vampire spawn.

It was just the slightest bit exhausting to so often be playing the part of their heroic leader, fighting all of his murderous instincts to work for a better future for himself and the brethren he had personally damned. Though he'd be lying if he said he didn't get any satisfaction from it. It felt... good to teach them new ways to live. To give them the chance at the beautiful life he had managed to secure for himself.

He wouldn't do it forever, just until he was confident enough to be sure that his departure wouldn't lead to a massacre on either side. Then the two of you would be off to explore the lands, working to do your goddesses work with just a touch of hedonistic activities on the way.

Astarion was looking forward to it. He hadn't done all that work to be selfless forever. No, he was going to be forced to insist on a few years of having you all to himself, with only the occasional bits of volunteer work for the temple as interruption. Then the two of you could go back to galivanting about the lands being local heroes. But he had earned an extended vacation.

One that, luckily, he hadn't had to fight you on too much. That was just one other thing he loved about you, your complete understanding that Astarion would always be a little selfish, especially when it came to you. The one person who had ever really been his, who loved him, who understood him, who believed in him. Could he be blamed for wanting to have you all to himself?

And admittedly, he did have you more often then not. Even if on occasion he did have to share with your beloved goddess.

Astarion sighed as he watched you pray in the moonlight, completely absorbed in your quiet, mystical chants. Despite his distaste for the length of your prayer sessions, Astarion did like seeing your more ritualistic side. Just... maybe not for the morally correct reasons.

He was well aware that being so involved with a vampire was clearly against your religious doctrine. But it didn't matter. You still choose him, despite how the knowledge nearly made you an outcast amongst your own kind. But he mattered more than your reputation, more than the lessons you had been taught your entire life regarding love and evil.

You still had your faith, but you never let it shake the faith you had in him, something that he valued more than he could ever express. It was perhaps a sick thought, but it also made him feel exceedingly powerful, to know the true extent of your feelings. Even more connected. It was almost... like he was defiling you, corrupting a beautiful flower to turn away from the sun to something even brighter. A love that Astarion doubted most could ever hope to feel.

Perhaps that was not the best outlook on your religion, but oh well. He'd keep those thoughts to himself. What you didn't know wouldn't kill you. Besides... if anyone had been corrupted it was him, plagued with a new sense of loyalty and gods, justice. All from the beautifully strange woman kneeling in the moonlight.

Though, you sure were taking awhile tonight. Nearly twice as long as your usual nightly prayer. He hated to interrupt your worship but this was starting to cut into his time a bit here.

"My dear," Astarion called out, swinging his legs over your shared bed to stand, "Don't you think that you've been kneeling there for a touch too long?"

But you didn't respond, still muttering under your breath, even faster than before.

Astarion narrowed his eyes as he walked closer towards you, confused by your lack of response, "Darling-Tav?"

Astarion stopped, eyes wide as he got a solid look at your first. Your eyes were wide open, body rim rod straight as your irises glowed a vibrant blue light.

What in the nine hells was happening? Astarion kneeled next to you, his heart in his throat as he shook your shoulders, "Tav, love, can you hear me? What is this?"

You didn't answer, you didn't even acknowledge his presence. But you did start floating in the god damn air. Astarion stared, helpless as he watched you levitate, words that he didn't understand spilling from your lips.

Then just as suddenly as it started, it stopped. You fell unceremoniously to the floor. Astarion scrambled towards you, his heart in his throat as you started to come to. He settled your head in his lap, his hands shaking as he touched your face, lost on what he should be doing.

You blinked your eyes open slowly, that angelic glow still radiating from your irises. But you didn't look frightened, more... excited.

You grinned up at him, your voice slightly cracking when you murmured, "We've been blessed."

Astarion stared at you, brow furrowed. He was happy you were alive and speaking but...

"That's lovely?" Astarion tried, "But severely lacking in terms of an explanation. Are you okay?"

You nodded eagerly, suddenly sitting up with an unexpected amount of energy, "I'll explain later, we don't have much time."

What was it that compelled you religious types to be so cryptic? But you didn't give him anytime to question. Instead you wrapping your arms around his neck and smashing your lips together, kissing him hard enough to take his breath away.

He wrapped strong arms around your back, pulling you in closer, always helpless but to return your affection. But something about this was different. He could feel it, holy magic spreading through him through your lips, down throughout his veins, changing something inside of him. It wasn't unpleasant per say, but it certainly was startling. Startling enough for him to almost push you away, if it wasn't for the fact that he trusted you with everything inside of himself.

Neither of you pulled away until the blue fire in your eyes had died out, and Astarion was left with the intense sensation that something had changed, irrevocably inside of him.

You stared at each other, Astarion in confusion while you looked nothing short of gleeful, "Do you feel it?"

He felt... strange. A warmth still spreading through him that was settling. Astarion raised a brow at you, exceedingly impatient when he asked, "First, how about you explain to me what in the hells that was?"

But you didn't answer. Instead you stood with an adorable hop, lending a hand out to help him up, "Do you trust me?"

Astarion almost rolled his eyes as he took your hand, annoyed that he fell for someone that had just as much of a flair for the dramatic as he did, "You know I do."

You helped him to his feet before you started to mumble again, a startlingly familiar incantation seeping from your lips. It was the spell for daylight, the very same that you had used to help defeat Cazador. The kind that could now kill Astarion in mere moments.

He was too shocked at your audacity to even protest, believing for a split, terrifying second that he was about to die a fiery death. Sunlight suddenly filled the room, bright enough for Astarion to tightly shut his eyes.

Then...nothing. No burning, no pain, nothing but the sounds of you both breathing.

That didn't-how was he-what did you just do?

Astarion stared at you, absolutely flabbergasted with his mouth hanging open, staring at the borrowed daylight like a simpleton, "But how?"

You were still grinning ear to ear, looking happier than Astarion had ever seen you before. You grasped his hands in yours, your smile gentle as you explained, "I told you. We were blessed. Our Lady of Silver gave me one gift, and this is what I choose."

If sunlight wasn't already staring him in the face, Astarion would never believe it. But here he was, alive and standing under it's warmth. A gift from a goddess, spent on him of all creatures.

"It can't fix everything," You clarified with the slightest frown, "But it can fix this."

He could feel the truth in your words. He was still... wrong. A creature born of something awful, doomed to eternity and a life of bloodlust. But part of that wrongness had been culled, curling up and dying from Selune's holy magic, from your enduring love.

It was a dream he never thought possible. One that he had accepted never having. But here he was, here you were, continuing to give him the impossible.

It was enough to bring tears to his eyes. Astarion reached up, cupping your face before confessing the truth he couldn't quell.

"I don't deserve you," He whispered, voice hoarse, "I'll never deserve you. Words can't express my thanks. You have given me everything, while I have nothing but myself to give in return. But it's always yours. Everything inside of me."

He meant every word, he always would. Until his last breath.

You shook your head, gentling cooing at him, "This is a time for celebration my love, not for doubt. You've earned this."

He hadn't. And he doubted you'd ever be able to convince him he had. But he'd still take it. Gladly.

"I love you," Astarion murmured, helpless to say anything else. He pressed his lips against yours, the gravity of his new life just starting to settle in his mind.

He was free, as free as he could ever hope for. You had achieved what Cazador could not, all without a hint of malice or horrifying sacrifice. But through kindness, love, and perseverance. You had already freed him once from his own mental shackles, his last remaining ties to the tyrant that made him.

And now you've done it again, saving him from at least a portion of the taint on his soul.

It was beautiful, wonderful, and Astarion would never waste a moment of it.