#i wish I could just take art from my head then paste it
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literallys-illiteracy · 17 hours ago
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New Trailer thoughts and notes:
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Oh wow im so gay:
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Mommy? sorry. Mommy? sorry. Mommy? sorry. Mommy?
I dont even like Rodion, in fact i still dislike her but... Uh. wow?
Theres not too much to note here, im the EGO person not the ID analysis person (at least for now :3), but for the skills.
Skill 1 appears to be 2 coins piercing. Skill 2 appears to be 3 coins, likely Piercing. Skill 3 appears to be 4 coins, almost certainly Piercing as well. Unlike the other 2 La Mancha Land ID's we've received so far, she seems to have a skill 4 rather than an empowered skill 3, being Dulci's Finale attack, which appears to be 4 coins of AOE piercing.
Finally, she appears to mark the return of playable clashable counters, hopefully we get an unbreakable coin counter, but thats just being a bit too hopeful.
also this ID has the most fanservice of any in the entire history of the game, and of COURSE it needs to be on a character that i dislike just so i cant thirst as hard over her.
Fell Bullet Yi Sang:
First i want to note some things about the art within this EGO's art; most notably is the shattered glass effect and presence of the fluchshutz itself in the background, while it does appear in Heathcliff's fell bullet ID, with its back facing heathcliff's, instead it appears in the centremost shard, with its barrel facing Yi Sang's head.
This note is furthered by the awakening line making mention of "The gun barrel on *My* viscera", rather than another's as in the fluchshutze's story.
The second divergence from Heathcliff's art is the lack of the fluchshutze's traits, having not the halfed face covering that heathcliff had, nor the reddened scarf. This is notable for the main reason that, in the awakening animation of heathcliff's, his face was entirely obscured with said mask of the shooter — These differences in appearance could be due to a number of reasons, even as an arbitrary choice, but it is likely due to resonance with the EGO itself, Heathcliff's being much stronger and thus taking on more traits of the abnormality.
The third divergence and one i will return to later, is the lack of a pendant. If you look at the shooter's art, at Heathcliff's fell bullet art as well, there is a clear pendant visible around their neck, the last remnants of their loved past. Keep note of that i suppose.
Now onto the awakening skill, something interesting to note is the fact that it seems to hit an ally as well as multiple enemies, shooting through heathcliff's Heart'(?), (its not a visible enough detail to note for sure, but i am assuming that this is intended), just in the same way that the devil's final bullet peirced the heart of the freischutz. Also, I think that PM still don't really know how guns work, because, just like the Thumb's "Muskets" that is a rifle. Im not particularly into guns but im 90% sure so.
If we're counting friendly fire, then it seems to have an attack weight of 7, with the latter coin (as he fires twice) seeming to only hit 2, the ally and one of the enemies targeted by the first.
The Corrosion is interesting, the sprite making Yi Sang take the form of a mirror, likely the form of the pendant itself (although there are like 4 mirrors in the sprite so take with that what you will). Contrast this with Heathcliff's corrosion sprite, being that of the heart, for that same reason that Heathcliff seems to be the one used as a friendly fire target in the awakening, for the devil wishes for despair, and to eventually claim their heart.
The corrosion appears to have one coin, and about 6-7 attack weight, once again counting Heathcliff, who remains in the very centre of the ironsights, (Or scope rather, as the gun is changed in the corrosion to include one, despite the art of the Fluchshutz' depicting the ironsights.
The screen that flashes before the shot is "IFF system - Level 3: Deactivated". From what i've found, an IFF system is "Identification Friend or Foe" which should be pretty self evident to its relation here.
Ill make a longer/separate post discussing the WHY of Yi Sang getting this EGO, and any other tangents along the way, but from what it seems, this is likely going to be a Pride or Gloom skill (if i were to guess), and have 2 coins on awakening. It seems to be the first awakening since SOUPCLAIR to be indiscriminate.
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zpxz · 5 months ago
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Please bare with me
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lalunanymph · 8 months ago
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ΉΣЯ & ƬΉΣ ƧΣΛ
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༊ you ask rafayel how lemurians reproduce, and he can't wait to show you
✯ warnings; rafayel x fem!reader, established relationship, MONSTERFUCKING, switch!rafayel, switch!reader, rafayel's lemurian form, sex underwater, reader is coded to be feminine (wears a dress and lingerie), mentions of alien genitalia, rafayel calls reader 'master' once, petnames (my little conch shell, my queen, baby, my love, miss bodyguard), size kink (reader is obvs smaller than him, he's a goddamn mErmAID), OVIPOSITION, dirty talk, language, breeding, girl on top position, missionary, reader sucks his merman cock (lmao), dubious breathing underwater methods, mentions of food, mentions of alcohol, suggestive content, slight spoilers for rafayel's myth if you squint, mild angst
✯ istg i am a zayne girlie but something about rafayel just makes me go feral
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"𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐃𝐎 𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐃𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐄𝐒?"
The question stunned Rafayel from taking a bite of his souffle pancakes, his fork pausing from its journey into his now lax mouth. Sunlight continues streaming in past the French windows; the patrons of this cafe going about their day, oblivious to the malfunctioning celebrity artist amongst them.
A glob of whip cream freefalls off the metal tines and onto his plate. Those magnetic pink-blue eyes flash with a multitude of colors—like a sea-worn rock under the brilliant sun. 
However, as fast as your question hit him, he overcame it; no one could say that Mr. Rafayel, the art world's maverick and media-trained connoisseur, was slow in recovering his wits.
His signature teasing smile in place, Rafayel placed his fork back down onto the table.
Across from you, two friends were speaking in low tones and judging from their expression, unpacking their love lives with the sombreness of a priest reciting a divorce rite.
Rafayel blinked, tilting his head to the side. 
"Why would you ask, Miss Bodyguard?" 
He casually slung an arm over the back of his chair, a million dollar smile gleaming and ready. "Or, has something struck your most vivid imagination?" 
Laying it on thick, he couldn't even begin to disguise the gleam of his teeth—shining like the incisors of a great white after smelling fresh blood in the ocean. 
"I never thought you would be so sugges—ouch!"
Rafayel winced, and doubled over, rubbing his shin under the table. "What was that for?" 
You huffed, and fixed him a glare. "Don't embarrass me." 
"I was just joking."
"Wasn't funny." 
"Yeesh. You're really wound up about this, huh?" 
That infuriating smirk was plastered back onto his face; his boyish features making something in your chest squeeze. 
"Shut up and answer the question." 
He pretended to ponder on it for a moment. More color illuminates his stunning amethyst irises. Shining like jewels, only he knew the value of his true thoughts. 
Before you could retract your question and salvage this bright afternoon, Rafayel surprises you with his next words.
"Why don't I show you, my little conch shell?" 
You freeze. Scanning the area, you wondered if this was the right conversation to be having in such a brightly lit area. Granted, you and Rafayel were past the carnal stage —after being together for close to a year, your bodies were well-worn maps that lips and fingers could retrace and discover any time.
Fighting back a laugh, you shake your head.
"Is this another one of your racy propositions again?"
Rafayel merely smirked. "If that is how you wish to see it." 
Seriously now, you counter, "Will I have paint in my hair again?" 
Memories flash in your mind; of a large canvas, soft candlelight, and streaks of paint on the most random parts of your body found weeks after the deed was done. 
Your lover sits back, using one slender finger to cross over his heart. "I promise your hair won't go through such torment anymore." Despite your best efforts, your eyes trail to his broad chest, and the enticing V of his defined pecs.
As if sensing your eyes on him, Rafayel's mirth grows. "Looks like you can't resist much longer, I'll make you a deal—" 
He leaned in close—much too close—and you could smell the vanilla on his breath; the sunlight glinting off those purple irises softening with a look of warmth only he held for you.
"—come with me tonight to Whitesand Bay, and I promise you won't regret it." 
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Muggy and balmy in the evening, Whitesand Bay wasn't exactly the ideal meet up spot for Rafayel to finally fulfill his promise and show you how mermaids reproduce. 
But, you showed up anyway.
Dressed in a light, silk dress to combat the heavy heat of the summer night, you cautiously made your way down to the docks, keeping your eyes and ears peeled for Rafayel. 
"You're here." He appeared a moment later, dashing as usual in his white button-down and pristine slacks. Dazzling under the half-light, you allowed him to take your hand and lead you right to a boat.
"We're not going for a to take a deep dive like last time, right?" Hearing the skepticism in your voice, he laughs.
"Of course, not. I paid Thomas a huge bonus last month and told him to buy a speedboat. For us to borrow, if you're curious." 
"Poor Thomas," you mused, letting him hold you close to his side as he helped you atop the board. "His boss is a tyrant... asking him to use his bonus for such lavish nonsense."
"Is it really a lavish nonsense if I get to have you here?" 
Rafayel's sincerity struck you mute. He breezed past your shocked figure, unaware of the effect he has on you. "Well? Are you going to continue mocking my methods of employment or are we going to do this?" 
Even though his chest was puffed and voice full of bravado, you could tell your sweet artist boyfriend was struggling with his nerves. The tips of his ears were bright red, a faint shadow of a pout on his lips. 
"Raffie," you whisper, taking his hand. He glanced at you, wide-eyed like a fish caught on the bait. "What're you so scared of? It's just you and me."
He lets you rub your thumb across his knuckles, tightening your hold on his fingers.
"I just..." he trails off. "... just don't want you to think I'm a freak. That's all."
Rafayel refused to look at you when he was this vulnerable, and you couldn't help the short giggle bursting past your defenses. He glared, and you quickly reached for his face, touching his cheek.
"Never," you emphasize. "I will never think you're weird. Ever. Besides, if you're a freak then I'm the weirdo in love with you."
Your dopey grin sets something aflutter in his chest, like ripples of ocean waves splashing across a strange shore. Rafayel smirks and takes your hand off his face, choosing to twine his fingers with yours. 
"Shall we make a move, then, my little conch shell?" 
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"Rafayel..."
The sight before you stuns you with its splendor. Your beloved boyfriend had gone all out—picnic blankets, lighted candles, flutes of champagne, and spreads of seafood as far as the eye could see... arranged all across the flatbed of this hidden alcove where the sea kisses the land. 
In the distance, the gentle swishes of waves lapping at the shore greeted your ears, its waves illuminated faintly as if lit from within.
"Bioluminescent algae," Rafayel murmurs right behind you. His arms came to wrap around your waist, the heat of his breath fanning right across your exposed neck. "They only appear in the summer when the water is warm." You fight back a shiver, trying not to show how affected you were by his presence. 
"Oh." Dumbly, you weren't sure how to put your thoughts together, much less a coherent sentence. 
Sensing your speechlessness, Rafayel exhaled a laugh. "Come on. We should eat before the food gets cold."
There's a dip in his tone, something tinged with a darker emotion you barely had time to unravel before he was tugging you onto the picnic mat. The food was divine, his personal chefs going all out to satisfy both of your palettes. Conversation flowed easily like the champagne slipping down your throat, coaxing you to release the tightness in your chest in favor of bubbly giggles and flirty smiles.
Rafayel's cheeks were steadily growing pinker, and you were sure he would double over and pass out—forgetting about your brazen question—when you felt his hand on your thigh.
"Would you like to take a swim with me?" 
Memories of seaweed brushing your bare legs, Rafayel’s arms steadily around your waist as he led you past the shoreline fills your mind. Anything cool sounded like a blessing from this heat. 
Plus, he was a pretty good swimmer, as evident from what he truly was. Rafayel would never put you in harm’s way. 
Safe. That was the word. You always feel safe with him. 
“Yes.”
He takes your hand, gives it a squeeze and helps you stand.
Rafayel started to undress first. The hem of his expensive silk shirt reveals the fitted band of his equally expensive slacks—made by the best tailors in all of Linkon. Then, pale skin. It stretches, tightens over defined obliques, abs and then his impressively broad chest. 
Scattered across the sinew and muscle roping his torso were smatterings of moles and beauty marks. 
Someone once told you that these marks were spots past lovers used to love kissing. You idly trace your gaze over the one on his left pec, right over his heart. 
If Rafayel and you had been together in the past, you were sure that the spot over his heart would be your favorite spot to plant your lips on him. 
As furtively as you could, you tried not to gape at him, but completely failed.
Rafayel was a masterpiece made by the gods themselves, and you were the poor fool gaping at his altar; transfixed on the sharp V which led to a light dusting of his happy trail. 
His cock strains behind his slacks, bulging noticeably. You want to reach out and skim your fingers, eager to feel it twitch under your touch. 
"Well?" His gentle amusement tore your thoughts from their sinful vices. "Are you gonna just stare at me or are we going for a swim? Your pick, Miss Bodyguard." 
Showing that you were far braver than you felt, you stood up, shaky hands reaching for the straps of your dress. "Don't look at me." 
A surge of heat flooded your cheeks, your eyes resolutely turned to the side. Obediently, Rafayel followed your orders, though you could hear the cogs turning in his head. It's not like I haven't seen her naked before.  
But, this wasn’t the usual plotting, teasing and flirting you both would indulge in.
Something about the air tonight felt heavier. 
Intimate.
You swore Rafayel could pick up your heartbeat from where he stood. The heat on your cheeks spread down your chest, tingling on your fingertips.
“Okay. I’m ready.”
In nothing but in your lingerie, you shift from foot to foot, feeling too vulnerable and open.
The sky above yawns wide, inky black jaws lovingly unfurling like a spread of velvet sheets. His hand is warm in yours, and you squeeze it, trying to hide how you were trembling. 
“Hey.” Rafayel sweeps you into his arms. Try as you might to fight off the nerves, they bubble up in a short squeak when your face meets his chest. “Relax, baby. You’re shaking like a bubble in the sun… don’t pop just yet.”
You find comfort in his scent—oceanic and musky—breathing him in. 
Do you trust me? Rafayel once asked when you both were drunk on a night out. 
Of course, I do. You flick his nose. Why wouldn’t I trust you? 
Even if I’m different? He fixes you with a look, lucid for someone who had just downed an entire champagne bottle. And I can’t be normal for you? 
Especially because you aren’t normal in the sense of its word… I trust you even more because you trusted me, first. 
Waves lap at your toes, and you shiver at how cool the water is. 
“Easy,” Rafayel coaxes you. He takes the lead, sinking into the soft sand first, never releasing his hold on you. 
You do as he says, a sailor to his siren call, except you knew in your heart you would willingly follow him till the ends of the world.
Once the water was up to your waist, Rafayel exhaled. “Stay here. I’ll be back.” 
You don't have time to protest when he dives into the waves, barely kicking up a spray. Eyeing the softly luminated sea surface, you dip your fingers into the warm water, watching a blue orb float in between your loose fists. 
“Hey.”
Startling, you look up to find him grinning, lilac hair darkened with salt water; holding a bundle of what you thought was tangled hair in his grasp.
“I know you hate the taste of seaweed, but this’ll help when we… get into things.” 
He ends in an awkward note, and you wondered what happened to the once cocky, and sure Rafayel you knew. 
Unfurling his clenched fist, he hands you one single strand. “Eat this. It’ll help you breathe underwater temporarily.” 
“What is it?” you sniff at the strange vegetation. 
“Hydroweed. It gives humans the ability to breathe underwater for up to an hour.”
Putting your faith in his words, you nod. Opening your mouth, you bite into the Hydroweed. 
The briny taste was overwhelming, its tough fibers making it difficult for you to chew. But, you manage to swallow it down. 
Instantly, you felt your throat closing, the air choked out of your lungs. “Rafayel—!” 
Strong hands grab your waist, dragging you under the foamy waves. 
You gasp, about to scream at him to let you go, when you took in your first deep breath underwater.
The world suddenly came to life. Bright blue orbs floated right in front of your face, and you reached for them, in awe at how vivid they glowed now you could see them up close. 
Down in the depths, the waves became hushed murmurs in the background, filling your ears with a ringing silence. 
“Are you okay?” Rafayel’s voice shot through the floating calm like a shout, and you cringed back in shock. 
“Sorry,” he laughs, and pulls you to his side. “It’s way quieter down here than up above because sound travels differently. Strange, huh?” 
You nod, not entirely sure if you could use your voice. As if he read your thoughts, Rafayel chuckles.
“Go ahead and speak, my little conch shell. I can hear you just fine.” 
You take a deep breath. “O-okay.” Growing confident and more comfortable, you relax in his embrace. “It feels… strange. Like you said. But, at the same time, I don’t entirely hate it.”
“Mhm,” he rubs your back, smiling reassuringly and wide. “If there are other Lemurians within a few miles, they can most likely hear you scream.”
His double meaning didn’t register until you felt his palms tracing your hips, teasing down your body to give your ass a fond squeeze.
“Hey—!” 
You swat his hands away, mute with embarrassment. “I-is that why you all live so deep in the sea? For privacy?” 
Rafayel hums. It’s a little off putting how clear his voice sounds, like you were listening to him through a pair of high-grade earphones. 
“Usually, Lemurians mate deep in the trenches where the light can’t find us. It helps to keep things more private and intimate. If not, we travel to other seas uninhabited by our species. I used to know a guy who dragged his wife to the middle of the Atlantic when they were trying for a family.”
Rafayel’s focus ebbs into the distance, a tinge of sadness in his tone that appears whenever he speaks of his long lost people and home. 
You take his hands in yours and squeeze, trying to draw him back from the precipice of his ruined memories.
“We could try…” you trail off, unsure if this was the right thing to say. “...to repopulate it?” 
Like your words were a trigger, you found yourself planted right on the ocean floor, soft sand cushioning your body.
You squeak, quickly darting your eyes to his, arms instinctively wrapping around his shoulders.
Rafayel’s usual glimmering pink-blue eyes were shadowed by a darker emotion; reminding you of glinting shark teeth or a blade of moonlight slicing through choppy water. 
“Don’t say that, baby.” Was it you, or did his voice drop an octave? 
Your Lemurian lover’s low reprimand made a shudder run down your spine, his half-mast eyes causing your stomach to flip.
“You don’t know how those words make me feel… my kind used to reproduce by the dozens—I can’t wait to see you bulging with my babies.” 
Wait… babies? 
With a capital ‘S’?
His mouth lands on yours, hungry and seeking. You kiss him back with as much ardor, lost in the sensations that you almost forgot what he had said earlier.
“Raf… Rafayel—” you gasp when he starts to dig his teeth into your neck, nipping down your jaw and collarbone.
Deft hands unclip your bra, the motion fluid like he has done this a million times before. From the corner of your eye, you see every article of clothing he took off you floating right to the surface; moonlight bouncing off the fragmented surface, playing across the broad expanse of his back. 
Your head swims with fuzzy thoughts long discarded when he pushes the plush fat of your tits together, licking and nipping around your areolas, ignoring how your nipples were already circling with need. 
“Raffie…” You fist his hair, trying to push his mouth to where you need him the most. “Don’t tease me.”
He laughs at your soft whine. “I need to make sure you’re prepared, my love.”
My love. Rafayel only called you that term whenever he was in the thick of his passion; it seems like you were about to witness the cumulation of your innocent question coming true.
Strong hands held you firmly while he eased down your body, planting fleeting kisses on every inch of your skin his lips could touch. 
Down in the deep, gasps and screams weren’t sounds, but vibrations; the sounds escaping your mouth resounding around your entwined bodies.
“Fuck,” Rafayel cussed once he reached the apex of your thighs. “I can’t wait to finally taste you underwater.” 
Barely giving you time to brace yourself, the broad stroke of his tongue melted through your folds. 
Never would you have imagined you would be eaten out right on the ocean’s bed—going deeper and deeper into the neverending blue. 
Rafayel’s lips were wrapped around your nub, sucking and caressing it with his tongue exactly how you liked it. Your smaller fingers sank into his hair, the other entwining with his own above your heart; back arched to give him everything you have.
“S’good,” he murmurs, verging on the edge of slurring. “I love you.”
His name tumbles from your mouth like a primal echo, calling him right to the edge of a bottomless trench.
Rafayel wasn’t afraid; he would traverse the deep beyond for as many chances to be with you as he could.
“Put your legs around my waist,” he whispers in between sloppy kisses back up your body. 
If someone were to tell you that your sweet boyfriend was literally making love to you on the bottom of the ocean, you would tell them a Wanderer had infected their mind.
Out of the corner of your eye, you see his body emanating a faint glow. A distant memory claws past the thin membrane of your barely held together thoughts; moonlight bouncing off pink-blue scales, his unbearable body heat and a pearly sheen misting his eyes.
“Rafayel—” 
The change was imperceptible. At first, you couldn’t feel anything but the sinful sinking of his cock stretching out your cunt. 
Then, it hit you like a freight train.
His waist felt like it was expanding, pushing your thighs further apart. But, when you glanced down the line of your bodies, the length of his legs was replaced by something longer. Bigger. It distinctly had two fins attached to the end, bent at an angle to accommodate the position he was fucking you in.
“R-Rafayel—!” 
“Fuck,” he strains, lining his forehead with yours. “I-I’m scared of hurting you.” 
“N-no,” you force your thick tongue to relinquish the words. “You'll never.”
His skin grew harder under your touch, inches of pale expanses replaced by shiny scales. Minus his face, his limbs, back, chest and torso were completely covered by the armor-like toughness of multiple hardened plates. Where the scales couldn’t touch, they were bonded together by thin layers of lamella, giving his entire body an otherworldly sheen. 
Mesmerized, you titled his face towards you, marveling at the scattering of scales adorning his throat and jaw. 
“Wow,” you murmur, touching them. They weren’t as hard or sharp as you imagined; his scales had a delightful give you couldn't stop pressing down on. 
In response, Rafayel grunts. “Baby… It’s happening.”
You were about to part your mouth and ask him what was, when your eyes shot wide open. 
The place where you both were connected suddenly grew tighter, as if something was pushing against your insides. Your muscles instinctively tried to expel the foreign intrusion, tensing and tightening—it was a shot of fear unlike any other you had ever tasted. 
Panicking, you cried out, “Rafayel, stop!”
Immediately, he ceased rutting into you, breathing heavily. Anguished, pastel eyes peel clapped onto yours, a pearly sheen filming over them.
“Shit… shit, I’m so sorry…”
“What’s happening?” you blurt out, a tremble of fear in your question. “Are you… are you putting e-eggs in me?” 
“Eggs?” he sounds bewildered, and that causes you to be perplexed in turn. Breathing hard, Rafayel’s forehead thumps onto your sternum. He doesn’t refute you or confirm your suspicions. Instead, he takes in a deep, ragged breath, like he was trying to tame down a cresting emotion. “Did you actually think, for a single second, that I was going to leave eggs in you?” 
Before you can even speak, his broad shoulders start to shake. Rafayel’s quiet laughter roused your confusion and indignation; your brows furrowing together because he wouldn’t stop laughing.
“Shut up,” it was your turn to be the whiner in this relationship. “You’re mean. It’s a valid question!” 
“Oh, baby,” he wheezes. One second, he was laughing, and the next, he lapsed into a quiet seriousness, the sudden mood change giving you whiplash. “I would never hurt you like that, my love. Trust me.”
Gently grasping your hand with his, he slips it down both your bodies, right to where you two were connected. “What I meant to show you, my little conch shell, is this.” 
He brings your hand between your own legs. You thought he was going to make you touch yourself, but when you feel something hard and distinctively not flesh-like bump your hand, you flinch back.
“Ssh, don’t be afraid,” he murmurs. “Go on and take a look, my love.”
Again with my love. 
Rafayel was either struck with nerves, or he was completely enamored with you at this moment. 
You licked your lips, tasting salt water on them and cautiously stretched your fingers to feel the strange object up. It was long and girthy, like a penis, except it wasn’t.
Steeling yourself, you risk a peek.
Gone was the smooth, veiny skin of Rafayel’s cock. His human one. 
In its place, was a thick length, riddled with ridges and bumps like an octopus’ tentacle. His very human appendage was always a stunner—slender (like his physique), veiny, with a hooked tip—but the sight before you (that strange and downright alien sight) blew your expectations out of the water. 
Your gasp reverberated around the pressing silence. Rafayel was quiet, waiting for you to speak. In turn, you couldn’t keep your eyes off his new genitalia. 
“Is that…” you struggle to piece together a coherent question. “Is that all… going inside of me?” 
Rafayel grunts. “Unless you don’t want me to, sweetheart.”
You take a moment to gather your thoughts, staring past the crest of his shoulder towards the shimmering, seemingly impenetrable ceiling of a world beyond the bubble you both created.
“I do,” you finally whisper, your confession rippling around the both of you, suspending your forms in an endless wave of mutual ecstasy. “I want this. I want you.”
Rafayel doesn’t bother to waste his time replying. You brace yourself, heels digging into his hips, clinging onto him with all of your strength. 
The first breach of his otherworldly cock inside of you felt like a touch of electricity up your spine. You cried out, nails digging into his scaly shoulders.
“Relax,” he paces you through the sensations. “I need you to relax for me, my love. I can’t get in if you’re this tight.” 
You gulp in a few deep breaths with your eyes screwed shut, and eventually, your heartbeat slows down. Sluggishly cracking your lids open, you catch the gleam in his pink-blue irises; locks of his iridescent hair floating around his serene expression.
The strange sensation was back, easing past your ring of muscle. You choke on a moan, trying to swallow your fear. 
“Ssh,” Rafayel murmurs. To distract you, he leaves feathery kisses on your cheeks, jaw and then, your lips. 
If the bottom of the ocean wasn’t enough to drown you, his kiss would. 
Rafayel… you whisper into the water. 
His name was a prayer dedicated to the Sea Gods on your tongue, your body sprawled out beyond your comprehension. Every line of you was taut with tension, the achingly slow stretch of his appendage plunging deeper and deeper into your heat had your head spinning like a whirlpool was threatening to suck you in. 
“Almost,” his harsh whisper clashes with your breath. “So good for me; you’re doing so good for me, my love.”
“Rafayel,” you mewled, the sea taking your tears. Hiccuping his name, you shudder, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. 
Your fist clamped down on soft sand, your back arched, and finally—finally—you felt his hips clipping yours.
“Fuck.”
The both of you groan in unison. 
His kisses were still warm, flush on your parted lips. Rafayel shunted his hips forward, then back. Repeating the same motion. 
Again. Again. And again.
The sensation was unlike any other you had felt in this world. No cock could possibly compare to the ridges wrapped around his length, the blunt, elongated tip almost touching the deepest part of your body.
“Rafayel,” you cried in a thick voice, like your mouth was filled with cotton. “Oh, God…”
Your tits flushed to his chest, your fingers in his hair and his tongue twining with yours shook your inner world like a deep sea earthquake.
This wasn’t like your usual lovemaking sessions; everything was amplified, more sensitive and tangible.
God, was it all so tangible.
You could physically feel every scaly ridge under your fingertips. His modified cock dragging those ecstasy-inducing bumps across your walls. Even his taste was different underwater; like a briny, primal flavor which coated your tongue. 
“Y/N,” his moan more angelic than what you could handle. “I love you. I love you so, so much—” 
Rafayel choked, and you didn’t need to ask to know he was about to cum. 
The ecstasy of it all wrapped its tendrils around both your embracing bodies; a human and Lemurian entangled in a dance as old as time. 
“I love you,” you cry out, toes curling and your nails raking down his back. Rafayel grunts, and in the dim half-light of the ocean engulfing you, you swore you saw his frantic eyes shine like precious pearls.
The world was closing in, darkness seeping into the corners of your vision. 
You pushed on his shoulder, trying to get his attention; acutely aware that the ache in your lungs wasn’t because of his kisses, but of something else.
Something out of your control.
The call of the surface burned through your lungs, and you opened your mouth, about to scream for him to let you go, when it all slammed into you like a tidal wave.
Darkness exploded, splattering across your mind, and you heard his cry of your name, the sound now echoey and muggy.
There was movement. A sharp tug. What sounded like wind whistling through your ears. 
Through your snatches of consciousness, you were aware of the pushback both your bodies weathered through the wall of water; how the ocean was trying to hold you back.
As soon as the sensation appeared, it was shattered by a golden burst of fresh oxygen.
Gulping in mouthfuls of air, you yelled out in fright, blindly grappling across the writhing dark mess of endless ocean surrounding you. 
Rafayel! Rafayel!
You felt strong arms wrap around you, holding you in his embrace like how a father would cradle his child.
Close your eyes, you thought you heard him murmur in your ear. And don’t open them until I tell you it’s safe to.
Arms clamped around his shoulders and legs wrapped around his waist, your intrinsic fear of the ocean made you trust his word. 
Gently now, you were bobbing across the water, the cool currents rushing across your bare skin. It felt like gelatinous cold drafts constantly hitting every body part. Staying true to his promise, you kept your eyes shut until you felt rough sand on your back; the waves receding from your body to lap at your toes.
Gasping, you peel your eyes open, lid by lid.
The alcove where he took you tonight was back in front of you. 
Rolling onto your front, you tried to stand, but only succeeded in stumbling back onto the sand; losing your sense of balance from countless minutes spent suspended in the ocean's mass.
“Hey, hey. Easy there.”
Rafayel was still in his Lemurian form, and this time, under the dim, flickering lights of the bay’s lanterns, you were stunned into an awe-inspiring disquiet.
The flickering warmth casted shadows over his iridescent scales, those once tough and gray plates under the ocean’s darkness glowing from the inside out with a pink-blue flame.
Half of his tail was still submerged in the water, and you couldn’t help but drag your gaze across the stunning length.
Easily a few feet long, you couldn’t even begin to wrap your head around the mental image of how majestic his entire Lemurian form would look underwater. It was just too bad the Hydroweed’s effects were over before you could even get to the good part.
Your thighs were chafing, drawing attention to your gapingly empty cunt. 
Pulling yourself to your knees, you came chest to chest with him. 
Rafayel’s saltwater soaked fingers grasped your cheeks, titling it up to inspect you. 
Trickles of water seeped down his face, darkening the sand with droplets of wetness.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, fraught and remorseful. “I lost track of time. I could’ve seriously injured you.”
“It’s okay.” The both of you flinched back from how hoarse your voice sounded. Clearing your throat, you struggled to put your mushy thoughts into words. “I… enjoyed it.”
Rafayel dropped his hands, his breathing growing ragged. “I should get back to normal—”
“No!” 
You stunned him with your vehemence, scrambling to grip his shoulders, clapping your crazed eyes onto his widened ones.
You’re acting like a mad woman. 
But, he didn’t say that to you. Rafayel grasped your hands, drawing them to his chest, pouring every drop of attention onto you. 
“I want to… try it… here.” 
You pieced together your incoherent request, and a part of you wondered—dreaded—if you had already lost your mind from the lack of oxygen and crushing deep sea pressure. 
Rafayel stared at you for a moment, unspeaking.
Then, he gently dragged you closer. Before you could even squeak, he had you straddling his waist. 
This time, it was your turn to peer down at him, curtains of your wet hair framing your face.
“Take me, then,” his voice was equally as hoarse as yours, though you suspected it wasn’t from ingesting enough saltwater to fill up your lungs. Trembling fingers touched your face, smoothing across your cheeks. “I’m all yours. I’ve been bound to you since the very beginning. You can take me, I won’t fight back. I told you I wouldn’t that night, don’t you remember? I’m keeping my word now.”
Something about the longing in his tone, how those pink-blue eyes yearned to swim in your soul, brought a lump to your throat. 
“Rafayel…”
Strong hands helped to guide your hips over his cock, easing you down with quiet praises and encouragement.
So good for me, baby. Look at you. Taking me so well. Wish I could paint this moment—you look so pretty. All for me. My love. My love. 
“R-Rafayel!” Thin red lines bloomed on his chest from your nails, your eyes rolling back into your head.
Without the sea’s buoyancy to support you, gravity took over, easing you down his bulbous cock.
Rafayel’s thumb circles your clit, rubbing it gently, soothingly, to get you wetter.
Your body felt like it was about to split cleanly into two—he was much too big for you. 
“C-can’t!” you whisper-cried. “I can’t take all of you—ngh.”
His mouth found your nipples, licking and sucking along the fleshy nubs until they were coated with his spit and tightening obscenely; an erotic outline lit by the bay's dim lantern lights.
“You can,” he mumbled in between your breasts. “I know you can.”
The rough strip of his tongue slid from your sternum towards your neck, pausing right at your pulse point. Sharp bites bloomed on your neck from his teeth, and you shiver from the throbbing pain going straight to your clit. 
That strange, heightening sensation was back. You felt much too sensitive, like a lightning rod trembling from an impending electrical storm.
One touch could’ve made you explode.
Rafayel brought your lips to his, tangling his tongue down your throat; stoppering your cries. 
Warm, smooth, distinctively human palms caressed your hips and thighs. 
Almost in, baby, he whispers in between kisses. I can feel every inch of you. 
You flit your eyes to where both your bodies meet, in mute shock from how deep he already was in you.
“You like it, baby?” he breathes warmly on your jaw. “Like watching yourself sit on my cock?” 
Fuck. Stop teasing me, you want to whine. But, the words won’t slip past your clenched teeth. 
His name bounces across the soft sand, the wind picking up and making you shiver. 
The warm glow of the lanterns spill across his sharp cheekbones, planes of his jaw. You’ve never seen someone look this beautiful under a hazy night sky before.
“Tell me if I’m hurting you,” you feel him murmur against your lips. “Say the word, baby. We’ll stop.”
You’re panting now, trying hard not to break your progress and having to start over. Rafayel was about halfway inside, and you forced your body to push and receive. 
Guh, you gasp, tossing your head back. 
“Love seeing you stretch yourself out on my cock, baby,” Rafayel mutters hoarsely—passionately. 
The implicit meaning in his words is clear: I love how you give yourself so willingly to me.
For Rafayel, you would do this ten times over until your body memorizes him. Willing your cunt to make a home for his monster cock even if it would break your spine.
“Almost,” he reassures in a low groan. “You feel s’good baby.”
He’s sweating as well, bullets of exertion not to break his composure and fuck into you mingling with the last of the seawater droplets rolling down his temples.
Rafayel, Rafayel, you whimper his name over and over. Oh God…
Something bubbles inside of you, thick and hot. You think you’re about to spill over, thighs shaking from the effort of holding yourself up. 
Your lover groans, low and lusty, his eyes trapped right in between your legs. “You’re so wet—look. Your little pussy loves me, baby.”
You glance to where he’s telling you to look, and nearly pass out from the embarrassment. 
Thick, pearly droplets are oozing down his merman length, and you would’ve thought it was from him had you not felt your walls start to twitch—more wetness gushing and trickling down to stain his pelvis.
The added lubrication made it easy enough for you to bottom out on his cock, and both your mutual cries of ecstasy reverberated into the dark night.
Shit, shit. Too big. You’re too big for me.
“You can take it,” he mouths your earlobe, kissing down your cheek. “Doing so well for me.”
Your breathing trembles, like a question hanging in thin air. Can you fuck me now? 
Rafayel scoffs and bumps his nose with yours gently. “Always making me do the hard work. You really are my spoiled, pretty princess, aren’t you? Or…” his voice drops, the heat in his eyes almost scorching you. “Do you want to be my good girl?”
You gasp: I do. I want to be your good girl.
He hisses when you start to shift your hips, the motion making your clit catch on his pelvis. You mewl, leaning forward to repeat the same motion; trying to chase after that spark of pleasure over and over again.
Those big, smooth palms cradle your face, pushing your hair back.
Rafayel’s jaw is tense, like he’s biting down on some inner demon you can’t see. 
That’s it. That’s my good girl. 
Your nails leave white crescent moons on his pale shoulders as you ride him, every bump and ridge of his cock brushing your sweet spot. He was so deep in you, almost plunging right past your cervix. 
“Fuck,” he curses. “You’re gonna kill me, baby.”
An arm sweeps you right to his chest, your cheek pressed atop his heartbeat. Rafayel thrusts his hips up, meeting your sensual grinding.
Spit pools in the back of your throat, your eyes squeezed shut as you let your Lemurian lover have his way with you. You part your mouth, mellifluous moans touching the air and turning it golden to his reddened ears.
I love you. His whispers against your throat, the sting of his teeth soothed by the sweetness of his praise and adoration. I love you so much, my good girl.
“You fuck me so good,” the words tumble from your split mouth, recklessly thoughtful. “No one can fuck me like you.”
Yeah, he pants, mouthing your pulse point. Cream on this cock, baby. It’s all yours. His hands span across your lower back, traversing down to grip your ass and spreading you wider for him.
Give me everything you’ve got, Princess. 
His cock plunges so deep inside of you, and you were sure that if he came right now, he might’ve knocked you up in one try. 
All yours. Rafayel was all yours. 
You lean up, arms resting on either side of his head as the sand bites into your skin. 
Rafayel thinks he might’ve died and gone to heaven. He watches, mesmerized, as your tits sway right in front of his face. You’re fucking him now, meeting each fluid thrust he had to give; bouncing on his lap like you were riding out a desperate heat.
His thighs tense, and he feels your pussy clench down on him. 
Fuck, you stutter, and so do your hips. I’m close. 
He squeezes your ass, smacks it with both palms.
Your breathing catches, and you ride him even harder. Faster.
“Fuck,” those pretty eyes were hooded, latched on your bouncing tits and stiff nipples. “Look so good fucking me—you love using me, don’t you, Master?” 
You gasp, and Rafayel feels your composure slip when you squeeze down on him. He almost cums right there and then. But, he fights it off, needing to see you lose control first.
The sight of your stickiness frothing at the base of his cock nearly makes him white out in pleasure, getting messier with every stroke of his non-human cock. 
He’s never had a human before in his Lemurian form, but it’s something straight out of a wild, wet dream.
Your skin was so, so soft in comparison to his hard scales that he’s almost afraid of hurting you with them.
But, you prove you’re made of tougher stuff when you lean back, bracing both hands on the girth of his tail. 
Showing off your puffy pussy and glistening hole taking every inch of him like it was made for this and only for this purpose.
He feels himself drowning in you. No one has ever taken him this deep. His mouth falls open, a low grunt touching your hot ears. Good girl… good fucking girl. His praises make you warm all over. You would do anything and everything to earn his devotion. But, Rafayel doesn’t make you do it—he gives it to you freely. One large hand smoothed over your belly, your tits, pinching your nipples and smirking inwardly when you gasp and groan. 
Breathy whimpers resound, his thumb on your clit rubbing out full body shudders. The sky above spins, like he’s being sucked into and about to be spat out of a whirlpool.
His eyes bounce from the softness of your belly, your tits jiggling, and then back down to your pretty pussy taking all of him in.
“Like what you see?” 
Rafayel flits his gaze back up. Your eyes were two pools of smoldering heat, about to burn him alive.
You grab his wandering hand, pressing it right over your stomach. “I can feel you here.” He twitches, and you gasp. “So, so deep.”
Sloppy sounds of your bodies meeting; you were so, so wet and perfect. Your pussy was gushing, fighting between squeezing him out or sucking him in. 
I’m gonna cum, baby, he grunts. The vein in his neck tightens, and your whimper almost sets him off.
Gonna cum so deep inside of you. Make you so round and perfect with my babies. You’re my Queen, aren’t you? My love. I’ll love you until the seas dry up. You’re mine forever. 
It’s that tinge of possessiveness which does you under. You were putty to his deep, gravelly voice; those words of unending devotion and sin.
His thick, dark lashes flutter, those pretty eyes rolling back into his head.
Fuck, baby. He grabs onto your hips, looking for something to steady him. “I need you… I’m gonna cum,” he whines, and it’s pathetic really—how much you’ve affected him.
If he was a lesser man, Rafayel might’ve called you his weakness. But, you were more than that.
You were the reason he woke up in the mornings. The reason he relentlessly pursued the passages of time and space to find you; you were the muse to his madness. 
“Do it for me, baby,” you pant, and fall back into his arms. Chest to chest, lips to lips, every breath you took was exhaled by his own. “Cum for me.”
Make me yours forever, Rafayel.
The world goes white, and your pussy quivers around him, an ending opera note suspended in mid-air.
It comes crashing down, slo-mo turned to a normal pace when time rushes back to engulf your sluggish shore.
His cum fills you up, thicker and running hotter than a human’s. It felt strange; pulsating inside of you, glob after glob. Your pussy shudders and breaks, physical and emotional walls all torn down for him; voice hoarse and edged with mania. Rafayel, Rafayel, Rafayel…
You mumble his name like a prayer while he drags your lips to his, kissing you like an oath.
He feels you shudder around him, growing weaker like a kitten. It would be so easy for him to pierce your neck with his teeth, cut through your jugular with his scales. 
But, Rafayel tames his primal, oceanic urge to destroy, reining it back in favor of nosing your hair.
“Felt so good,” he mumbles tiredly. “Are you okay, my little conch shell?”
You hum, shift your hips. The bulbous head of his cock brushes the opening of your cervix. “I can’t believe I took you so deep.” You drift off and in a few minutes, feel him go from soft to half-hard in you again. 
“Are you still turned on, baby?” you ask innocently, voice soft and frayed with exhaustion. Rafayel swivels his face away, trying to hide his red ears.
“N-no.”
You huff a laugh, using all the strength in your jelly-like limbs to sit up. Something catches your attention, and in the corner of your eye, you pick up the dark strands, fisting it close to your mouth.
Rafayel watches, unsure what you’re intending to do. He sits up, squints, and almost gasps.
That’s enough Hydroweed for you to last a night under the ocean. 
He’s about to stop you, when you ingest it all in one go.
The second you convulse, he pushes you back into the ocean, your gasp of relief second to only his bruising kiss completely devouring your mouth. 
Your legs wrap around his waist, and your back meets the ocean floor again. This time, you take the lead, rolling him off to straddle his waist again. 
Rafayel glances at you, gorgeous pastel eyes hooded. 
He notices how comfortable you’re getting underwater; how easy it is for you to scoot down his torso, your playful smirk making his cock and heartstrings throb. 
“Baby—” he mumbles, only to be cut off by the sight of you kissing his bulbous tip.
Rafayel isn’t a believer of god per say (coming from his own experience as a retired sea deity), but at the sight of your pretty lips skimming his merman tip, he thinks he could give religion another shot. 
What’re you doing? His whisper carries across the currents.
Ssh, you hush him, rimming the tip of your tongue around his flushed head. You don’t miss how his tail twitches, cock now painfully at full mast. 
Isn’t it obvious? You mumble, kissing the tip reverently. I want to taste my Lemurian's pretty cock.
He seizes, back arching, putty in your hands when you take him down as deep as your little throat allows. 
What else you couldn’t fit, you used your hands to jack up and down.
Soft hisses slip past his clenched teeth. “You’re driving me crazy, baby.”
Mhm, you slur, flickering your hazy, fucked out gaze to his flushed face. Tastes so good, you whisper, and Rafayel was glad the ocean didn’t show the line of drool that usually trickles down your jaw; your fucked out expression which would make his control snap instantly. 
You would need to consume at least three more mouthfuls of Hydroweed before he was fully done with you. 
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Luckily, Thomas’ yacht came with some fluffy towels.
Rafayel had wrapped you in one while he laid the other under your back; content to curl his tail around you, still in his Lemurian form. The honeywood deck was warm to the touch, the balmy evening offering comfort and respite from hours underneath the cold, dark ocean. 
“So…” he quips, not one for stewing in silence. “Questions? Thoughts? Comments?” 
You fight back a smile. 
“Was there really eggs put up inside of me? Swore I felt a lot of round and hard things sloshing inside.”
“That… would be my tip.” Rafayel flicks your nose when you scoff. “On a scale of one to ten, how freaked out would you be if I said I did actually put some eggs up in your body and it had to be fertilized so the rest would start falling out of you like gelatinous goo until the only one takes?” 
You blink. “Pretty freaked out, if I’m being honest.”
“So… a nine?” 
“More like—” you lifted your hand and made a so-so motion. “—a six, at best. I’m kinda used to your bullshit by now, babe.” 
“Hey!” Rafayel tugs on the ends of your hair, making you laugh. Growing serious now, he murmurs, “So, you’re absolutely fine with being knocked up with a half-Lemurian kid?” 
“Depends,” you mumble mildly. “Am I the first one you’re doing this with?”
Barely missing a beat, he nodded. “The only one. Never had time to sleep around. Always busy running a kingdom. Blah-blah. Typical God of the Sea stuff. No biggie.”
“Aw,” you coo, “I’m so honored you waited for me.” 
You expected him to scoff or roll his eyes, not lapse into a serious quietness. Rafayel’s silence stretched on, and you perched your jaw on his shoulder.
“Hey. Penny for your thoughts?” 
“Hmm.” Rafayel tugs you closer, grabbing your hand and pressing it to his cheek. His lips are inches apart from yours, warm breath touching your parted mouth. You taste him on your tongue, invigorating yet comforting.
A well-worn sign of home. 
“Just that I would do it all over again. Wait for you, I mean. Even if it takes a long, long time.”
A few centimeters and 800 years stand between the two of you. 
But, for tonight, you breach the distance and kiss him, grateful that you had been given this cherished memory together with Rafayel.
— rbs and feedback are appreciated !!
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©️ all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy, repost or translate my work across other platforms.
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clockwayswrites · 4 months ago
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So far this file is called 'birdritch'. Those of you who follow my art tumblr might know where this is going. I needed something light to write, been a low day. There has been zero editing or reading through and it is past 2am, sorry and enjoy! (Don't need any typos pointed out, ty.)
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“You are supposed to be home.”
Danny blinked up from his work to find Lucius Fox standing in the doorway of the lab. The man had the sport of expression one wore around a child who had just done something disappointing.
(Danny was used to the look, even if it had been a long time since he'd been a kid. Or seen his parents, for that mater.)
“Okay, but,” Danny started, “we agreed that I could start at ten and take my eight hours and one for lunch—”
“A mandatory one hour for lunch away from your desk,” Lucius interrupted.
“Yes, yes, I’ve been doing that! I’ve been eating out on the rooftop garden or even leaving the building and eating out or taking lunch to the park. I’ve been behaving, Lucius, I promise.”
Lucius raised a judgmental brow. “It’s after eight, Danny.”
“What? No. I have an alarm on my phone and everything… okay, well, that only works if my phone is charged.” Danny jabbed uselessly at his phone screen. He followed the charger, which was plugged in, all the way to the wall. He resisted the urge to let his head fall against the wall. “I guess Leslie fried the outlet again or something. I’m sorry, Lucius.”
“It’s fine, Danny,” Lucius said, “but only because, one, I know you have been trying, and two, I am going to buy you the most embarrassing alarm clock I can find and mount it to something in this lab. Now it is late and I am going home and so are you, Mr. Fenton.”
“Yes sir, Mr. Fox,” Danny said and made an exaggerate show of packing up his backpack, dead phone and all.
Lucius gave a little snort at the antics, but left with a ‘get home safe, Danny’. After his boss was gone, Danny took the time to actually make sure everything was in his bag and secure. He still didn’t get why he couldn’t just work late, but apparently WE had something of an insistence of work life balance. According to Lucius, Danny crossed the line too often and so was being kept in line. (Danny didn’t think mention he didn’t have much of a life, literally and otherwise, would help his case.)
Still, Danny mused as he stepped inside the empty elevator, the rules did keep him from becoming his parents. And that was a very, very good thing! Being a mad scientist in Gotham usually ended up landing someone in Arkham. It was just that after the chaos that Danny grew up with, going back to his empty apartment was depressing. It wasn’t as if Danny never got out and did things, it was just that all those things were mostly on the weekend. Most days he just didn’t have a reason to go back to his place.
There was no getting out of it tonight, the great and powerful Fox had spoken and Danny knew better than to try and sneak back up. He lifted his hands over his head, stretching as the elevator descended the last few floors. Oh well, at least it was before ten. He could still grab something on the way home and have a full, warm meal to take his pain meds on. By the pull along his forearm he would need them.
“Night, Bill,” Danny said as he passed the security guard who was on the evening shift. He got another ‘get home safe’ in response and gave a little wave in reply over his shoulder.
Even after the few years in Gotham, it still amused Danny how much everyone wished everyone else some sort of safe travels here. As much as Gotham was a city of hardened realists, there still was so much hope about it. Hope people got home safely, that the Bats would get where they were need in time, that the city would rebuild again and again and again. The undercurrent of hope was so strong that Danny could practically feel it moving through the city like a river.
It had been one of the reasons Danny had taken the job.
He could use hope.
He also had been very careful not to look too closely into it all. While Danny’s early life may have been dominated by the occult, he tried to stay away from it these days outside of the necessary visits to the Realm for his health. As much as the Far Frozen was full of ghost yetis, Frostbite was still a being of science and being there felt more like a cold vacation to his weird relatives than anything else those days.
Danny was actually worried that he was getting close to needing another visit. He shouldn’t, not yet. He wasn’t actually due back for another three months, but the thought of visiting Frostbite had been pulling at the back of Danny’s mind. The most annoying part of it all, is that there wasn’t any concrete reason that Danny felt he needed to go, just a lot of little things: the ache was deeper in his bones, he’d been missing noticing little things, his near constant vertigo was worse, and, oddest of all, he had been feeling chilled.
Maybe he should just take a long weekend and go for a quick visit.
Lucius would undoubtedly approve of the break.
Tomorrow, Danny would ask tomorrow.
(As long as he remembered.)
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backwzzds · 1 year ago
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ೃ⁀➷ spoil you, plug!eren
eren hated when you spent your own money, but you don’t listen.
thinking about the way plug!eren would take you on his drops with him. you were so quiet and in your own world, he never minded the fact that you had your freshly white painted toes resting against the dash of his mercedes AMG coupe. the entire car was blacked out with expensive ceramic tints, protecting you both from your usual…late night activities.
your glasses rested on the cute bridge of your nose as your left leg was sat in eren’s lap while your right rested against the dashboard. eren was lucky that he fucked with most of his customers heavy…you two had been waiting for the dude to meet y’all for nearly thirty minutes now, and had it been someone else, eren would have sped away long time ago.
eren comfortingly rubbed your baby soft feet in the grasp of his tattooed hand, one with beautiful realism art of your own eye. with a turn of his head, he could see you practically nose deep in the bright screen of your phone illuminating through the car. “you growing bored mama?” his voice is concerned. “ian think we was gonna be waiting this long on dude…my bad baby.”
you hadn’t said much since you’d gotten in the car, just wanting to hurry and add all of your things to your shopping cart on the skims website. “nah, ‘m just…trying…to do somethin’ real quick,” you bite your lip as you tap away on your phone. you were trying to add as many things to your cart before it was gone. “before this shit sell out.”
eren being the nosy boy he is leans against your shoulder to see what you were doing. but the moment he’d seen you type in numbers that belonged to what he knew as your own debit card, he kissed his teeth in annoyance. “man how many times i gotta tell you to stop using your card to go shopping bae?” you roll your eyes at his words. “i’m serious, you got all three of my cards on ya phone for a reason. fuck is you typing in your info for?”
don’t get him wrong, eren loved the fact that you were independent and knew how to handle money almost perfectly now that you were in your twenties. but being together with you for so long, he continued to step up with his provider capabilities by always taking care of you. whether it was paying your bills, rent—everything in between.
but of course it was a struggle when ms. i can do it all by myself meets mr. i know you can but let me do it for you
“because i’m spending like 600 dollars,” you point out to his previous question with an obvious scoff. “i’m not asking you for that.” eren mirrors your actions and rolls his eyes again.
eren looks at you as if you’re insane and suffered memory loss for the past four years you’ve been together. “babe…i make that shit in one night. actually—fuck a night—i make that shit in two hours!”
it wasn’t like he was lying either, with the way that eren was one of the only trusted plugs in town, it was very easy that he’d bring at least a band a night on a consistent basis. selling for almost six years was finally paying off.
you two hardly ever fought, but if you did, it was always about money. eren knew how long you’ve had to do things on your own physically and financially. you couldn’t go to your mom for help, you didn’t have a dad to beg, so it was all on you since you’d been 16. but now that he had eren, he’d just wish you’d let him take the burden of money of your shoulders and take care of you the way you take care of him.
after a few minutes, your boyfriend holds his hand out. you give him crazy eyes, but eventually follow orders by putting your phone in his hand. “don’t know how many times i gotta tell yo stubborn ass, forreal,” he grunted. “‘s never a problem spoiling my baby. you don’t ever ask me for nothing. let me feel useful and get you stuff, mama.”
with a sigh, you nod your head, like you always did. there was no way eren was gonna take no for an answer when it came to spoiling his wife.
in response, eren uses his free hand to delete your information and instead place the correct numbers—the information to his amex black card. all the money he has, he sits and does nothing with it, so why not buy you all the things you’ve never had before?
when you hear the chime of your phone confirming your order, eren hands you the phone back and goes to look out his dark window.
with your acrylics, you grab eren by the neck and slowly turn him back to face you. “thanks papa,” you gave him genuine eyes.
eren leans forward and pecks your lips. with a serious face, he pecks you one more time before wrapping his tatted fingers around your neck erotically. with a look in your eyes he tells you, “always tell me what you want, no matter how much, mama. you know daddy gonna get that shit for you one way or another, regardless.”
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shenachigans · 7 months ago
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LITTLE ONES | Ningguang
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PAIRING: Amab!Ningguang x Fem!Reader
CW: smut, angst, fluff, unintentional baby-making (or breeding) at first, unprotected sex, readers is ill but illness is unspecified only that pregnancy is a risk, a lot of pet names ig, bottom female afab reader
SUMMARY: Ningguang has been wanting children of her own, but she must hold her desires back during a night of pleasure, or does she?
A/N: I cringed and almost got sappy writing the fluff part but whatever, I barely do fluff for a reason. Also, this is my first post of the year :> I wrote and posted this past my bedtime, excuse my mistakes…
WORDS: 1,928
(FANFIC IS UNDER THE CUT!)
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There are rumors that Lady Ningguang had a soft spot for children. You can confirm that. The children of Liyue Harbor adore her just as she adores them. She had a motherly side, giving the kids irresistible sweets to see them smile. Of course, Ningguang gains something in return, but being around the little ones relieves her from her duties and the harsh business world. 
Ningguang isn’t the Tianquan of Liyue nor a ruthless businesswoman. She was merely a friendly elder sister who mingled with the common folk, and the children were the only ones who could give her that satisfaction without calculating moves — unless creating schemes to get the most sweets from her counted.
You can see joy in your lover’s eyes when she sees the children light up whenever they see her and receive delicacies. You remember the kids almost fighting each other for Ningguang’s head pats and praises for doing well in their missions (informing her about the latest news in the Harbor). 
There was a time when one of the children accidentally called her ‘mom’ instead of ‘big sister.’ Ningguang wasn’t fazed and instead responded as if she were their mother. It was such a wholesome sight that it brought you to your countless dreams of having her own flesh and blood where you lived as a happy family. 
The conversation of having children has yet to be brought up, but Ningguang’s eyes say more than her lips can. Even if she mastered the art of putting on a perfect facade, you can see through her. There is a visible glimmer of longing whenever she’s with the kids; it makes your chest ache.
Ningguang wants to have children with you. She does. She wants little versions of yourselves running around the floating palace and experiencing what it’s like to become a mother. But she holds back. She stops herself from painting your womb white, risking getting you pregnant. She doesn’t want you to carry her child, even if a baby bump on your tummy would make her heart swell from joy. 
You always blame yourself for preventing your lover from getting what she desires, for your weak disposition makes it a risk of surviving childbirth. You were already struggling with your illness. It was a gamble she didn’t want to take. But she doesn’t know you would gladly give your life to your little one because you have been wanting children with her as well.
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It was a night of pleasure. Ningguang’s hips thrust into yours, her girthy cock stimulating your slick walls. Manicured nails created light crescents on your thighs as she gripped them for leverage, slowly losing herself in the song of your moans and whimpers harmonizing with the squelching created where you two are connected. 
You were ravishing in her hooded eyes, clawing onto the sheets below you, and tears rolling down your cheeks as pleasure coursed through your veins. Only Ningguang can see you like this. But her eyes subconsciously dart to your belly, imagining something she mustn’t. She longs to touch your empty womb — feel your skin on the pads of her fingers — but it will only indicate her want, and she doesn’t wish to make you solemn in the midst of pleasure. Unfortunately for her, you knew everything a long, long time ago.
“I want to embrace you,” you say, albeit interrupted by grunts from the ecstasy between your legs and your lover’s pleasured disposition. Ningguang slowed her ruts, complying with your request and letting go of your plush thighs, opting to grip the soiled bed sheets as you wrapped your arms around her neck, her free hand holding your waist. 
Your lover was a sight to see. Tinted cheeks and hooded eyes — a woman lost in pleasure — which juxtaposed her usual professional disposition. Ragged breaths and relentless pounding made her seem desperate to bring you to your peak as if she were a servant pleasuring her master — and she was because everything she did was for you, all for you, even if it meant denying herself something she wanted all her life.
Ningguang could feel herself at the edge of the newfound angle as she resumed her previous pace, ensuring you were comfortable. Her body tensed and shivered at how you moaned in her ear, bringing her senses into overdrive. But she must contain herself. There have been many times when her reasonings almost slipped between her fingers, but she always triumphed in gaining control.
Your bodies hugged every part of each other’s skin, her chest against yours, erect nipples rubbing against each other. She held you close, kissing your forehead, down along your jaw, until they settled on leaving bruises on the crook of your neck as a form of gratitude for taking her so well. 
Nails clawed against Ningguang’s back as you bucked your hips to meet her thrusts, back arching, and your throat now sore from your sinful noises. You were beginning to writhe under her, subconsciously wrapping your legs around her waist, your walls fluttering against her cock.
“I’m close,” you moan, your body trembling as if preparing for your upcoming orgasm. Fingers clutched into Ningguang’s hair, pulling her into a passionate kiss where your tongues languidly danced against each other. Her lips swallowed your sinful noises until a string of saliva stretched between you two as your lips reluctantly parted to heave for fresh air.
“Me too, my love,” she huffs, hips stuttering, her tip on the verge of spilling her load. Her open-mouthed kisses littered your neck and shoulders once more. A sultry, airy chuckle left her lips as she maintained her pace, guiding you to your climax. She dared not change her pace and edge you, not tonight. 
The deep, moderate thrusts of her girth drove you insane as the veins of her cock pulsated against your walls. You felt so full. Ningguang's praises and constant rutting brought you to your peak with a high-pitched moan of her name. Her back would be displayed like a canvas the next morning from her dress, showing your love hold with scratches and brushed crescents.
Her free hand slithered from the soiled sheets to your sore clit, rubbing it with her thumb to elongate your orgasm. A flash of white clouded your vision as a white ring coated the base of her cock as you came, further lubricating your walls. You became a huffing mess as you recovered from your high, but Ningguang has yet to cum, and you’re overstimulated. 
Ningguang became rather impatient now, she could feel her release edge on the tip of her cock. But she has to cum on your stomach. She tapped your thigh once — an indication for you to let go so she could pull out — but you refused. Another gentle tap soon turned into a slightly painful grip as she tried to unwrap your legs forcefully.
“Release your legs, now, dear…” she whines, grunting and fingers twitching from being denied of her high as she slows her thrusts. “I can’t cum like this,” she says, but her heart says otherwise. The tone of her voice shows how much she’s holding back. 
“Yes, you can.” You counter with a smile, arms unwrapping around her neck to cup her face, and soothingly rub her cheeks with your thumbs, feeling her porcelain skin under the pads of your fingers. A hearty, tired chuckle left your lips when she leaned into your touch. “Why don’t you indulge yourself just once, hm? Doing it once doesn’t guarantee anything, Ningguang. Please?”
Ningguang’s thrusts slowly halted as she felt a change in the lustful atmosphere. She presses your foreheads together and closes her eyes. “I can’t take that risk, we both know that…” she sighed and suddenly you see a pair of scarlet eyes pleading at you. 
“But you want to — to take that risk — and there’s nothing wrong with that, my love.” You smiled but it didn’t reach your eyes as Ningguang avoided your gaze, eyes now looking elsewhere. “Hey, look at me,” you urge and gently tilt her face toward you. “It pains me to see you like this, dearest. I…I shouldn’t have brought it up, especially right now. I’m sorry.” 
Guilt washed her features as you spoke. Was her longing so obvious? It didn’t mean you needed to give her a child. But your face expressed genuine want, no fear or hesitation in your eyes. However, you were frail, and she didn’t want to risk losing you and the baby. Ningguang can live without children of her own but she can’t live without you. 
If only she had an option to have both.
“No, don’t I apologize, my love. If anything, I should apologize for making you feel like you needed to give me children to make me happy,” Ningguang starts, giving you a sad smile, eyes downcast as she still ignores yours. “You make me the happiest person in the world, and having a family is only a bonus. I can’t force you to make any sacrifices. I don’t want to lose you.”
“You weren’t forcing me to do anything, love, and I appreciate that. I want to start a family with you, dearest. I’ve always had. You would make the best mother in the world,” you hum, pecking her lips before resting your forehead against hers. “Whatever happens, happens in the future and we will tackle them together, alright?” 
“How did I deserve you?” Ningguang says with a smile, her heart leaping from your words, still, her stomach churned from the unknown future. It was a bittersweet feeling. Scarlet eyes observed your tired face. You see hesitance in them, but they expressed want. 
“You deserve everything in the world, my love.”
Her smile widens and gently kisses you before holding your hips for leverage as she starts to pump her hips in and out slowly. “Push me away if you change your mind,” Ningguang starts, pushing the damp, stray hair from your face. “I don't wish to force you.”
“I won’t. I want all of you.” 
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“Mama! Mommy is being mean to me!” a child whined, pouting as tears of frustration were apparent in their scarlet eyes as they ran toward the bedroom. “She doesn’t wanna share Mama with me!”
Ningguang follows them, hiding an amused smirk with her hand. It was fun to tease them, even more now that they’re in the ‘possessive of mommy’ stage.
“Now, now, little one, your Mama might be asleep,” Ningguang said, but it was too late. The door slid open with so much force that you woke up. She grimaced, giving you an apologetic glance.
“Teasing them again?” You say groggily but flash a small smile as you lie on the bed’s headrest. The little one immediately clinging to your side with a smirk. “This teasing is all too frequent…” You pretend to ponder before your eyes light up. “Are you perhaps envious, dear?”
“I am not envious,” Ningguang said almost too quickly, but she narrowed her eyes at the cheeky child before her, clearly showing off by scrunching their nose and sticking their tongue out. 
The audacity for them to mock her.
“You’re cute when you’re jealous,” you chuckle before patting the spot beside you on the bed and cradling your belly. “Why don’t you two come here? I could use some cuddles.”
The child beams at your words. Nothing can be greater than cuddles. “Mommy, can I be in the middle?” They say, looking at Ningguang for permission.
Ningguang’s heart swells and she smiles. 
“Of course, my little dove.”
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© shenachigans — do not plagiarise, translate, repost, or copy.
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tofuxtea · 14 days ago
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𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐍 | torture + non-con
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𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 — art the clown x fem!reader
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 — nsfw, art the clown in general, torture, non-con, slight kidnapping (?), bondage, knife play, blood + blood play, violence, fingering (not sanitary knowing art, wash yall’s hands !!), slight dacryphilia
𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 — foreword, i do NOT condone anything in this fic ! david howard thornton himself actually said art would be against this and i find art a comfort character, this is just for kinktober purposes 😞 if you guys are NOT comfortable with non-con or torture please do not read this, spare yourself the pain please i beg 😭 i will not be upset bruh
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you were a force to be reckoned with, that much was evident.
whether it was because you were drunk or with a friend group that made peer pressure feel good, it didn’t matter to the black and white clown you approached at the club. he had been standing there for the past hour or so, staring at you through the split in the crowd.
obviously he had a crush on you. that was what your friend whispered in your ear with a little nudge to your side and a drunken giggle.
your devil costume left very little to the imagination, faux red leather hugging your curves. that had to be it, without a doubt. you had already been getting attention throughout the night, so this was only more fuel to the fire that was your ego.
his costume was detailed to say the least. the fake blood on his costume looked rusty as opposed to the cherry coloring on everybody else’s clothes and faces. he must’ve made it himself.
it took a few more pushes of encouragement until you finally went up to him, wondering why he was unable to take his eyes off of you. it wasn’t flagged as creepy in your fogged mind, rather flattered.
“you’ve got a staring problem, don’t ya?” you shouted over the music with a giggle, leaning against the bar counter for support. your high heels definitely didn’t cheap out on the high part.
looking at him up close definitely made your mind wander a little more. he was much taller than you — likely over six foot — and seemed pretty lanky under that suit. his eyes were a brilliant blue, starkly contrasting the black makeup neatly circled around them, and they couldn’t seem to get away from you. his hooked nose, as well as his entire face, was painted white and had a singular black dot on the tip of it.
something about him piqued your interest, and it only grew when he didn’t answer you. instead, he smiled and tilted his head down, like he was feigning some bashfulness. it was cute. you respected the commitment to the act.
“i don’t suppose you want something from me?” those drinks you had earlier were kicking in, making your confidence soar to unnatural heights. “what’s your name?”
you expected him to drop his little facade and lean in and tell you. but he didn’t. he reached for your wrist and shifted your palm upwards. you were beyond curious, but allowed him into your space.
he dragged his finger across your palm a few times, you piecing the motions together. a-r-t. “art. oh, your name’s art?” the clown nodded with a wide grin.
that wasn’t his last trick, it seemed. from the palm of his hand, he revealed a fake red rose. the synthetic petals were slightly crumpled and stained with drops of something even darker than its natural color.
it was a little corny, but you blushed nonetheless. it was sweet. he gestured for you to take it, so you did.
“hey, let’s get outta here. the music’s making my head hurt.” the second part was a lie, but your motives were relatively pure. you thought that he was only silent because of the volume. maybe the fresh air would make him open up a little bit more.
art nodded a little too eagerly and started moving you towards the door. you could only give your friends a very brief glance, them offering you smiles and raised thumbs before you vanished outside. you would soon wish that they’d kept you inside.
you took in a deep breath of fresh air outside, observing the parking lot. there was not a person in sight. they were all inside. except for you and art.
art. you spun around to see where he had gone and found him hunched over a black trash bag. initially, you were going to pull him away from it, thinking he was digging through waste when he suddenly straightened up and turned towards you. his hands were behind his back.
words got caught in your throat and you found yourself laughing to fill the silence. a wave of anxiety washed over you until art revealed another fake rose. this one was attached to a plastic stem.
but while you graciously accepted his second offering, you failed to notice the bat he had brought down onto the side of your head.
you never had a concussion in your life, but you were sure this was what it felt like.
you awoke to a blinding headache and nausea bubbling in your stomach. your vision refused to adjust properly, but you couldn’t miss art’s black and white suit in front of you. your depth perception wasn’t the most reliable, but your body knew to start acting.
you went to kick and scream but found it futile. duct tape muffled your cries, though it was ripped off faster than you could register it was there, and thick rope around your limbs kept you still against the table you were draped over. a few blinks helped you understand your predicament: you had been moved to some sort of warehouse and were tied down to a cold, steel table that had goosebumps prickling on your exposed skin.
your clothes were intact, which made you sigh. one victory.
though you weren’t sure for how long. art hovered over you from the side of the table, his sick grin mocking you as he eyed you from head to toe. it felt like he had already undressed you just by the way he was sizing you up.
that came next. with his one hand that was free, he started to drag his finger down the center of your chest. the closer he got to the low-cut hem of your top, the louder your protests became. art was prepared for that.
he brought a thick chain with several rusted scalpels and medical scissors down onto your legs, creating multiple shallow breaks in your skin. you screamed out. he whipped you again. this time you bit back guttural cries and accepted his hand.
his face screamed disgust and disbelief, like he couldn’t believe that you would ever ask him to stop. the way his creased white face morphed was eerie. it rendered you silent while he unzipped your tiny red corset.
you flinched when it popped open, exposing your tits. you hurried to cover yourself but your arms only moved as far as the rope allowed you to. either way, art flung his chain at the arm closest to him and you had to choke back a scream.
blood seeped from countless wounds, warmth running down and onto the table. you squirmed and cried as much as art allowed you to. he seemed to enjoy your agonized writhing, running dirtied fingertips over your open cuts.
“please, please,” you whined. it was mindless rambling at that point because you knew he wouldn’t.
he had shifted his attention down to your pleather skirt, slowly undoing the zipper on the side. you wanted to kick and fight but you dreaded the idea of getting cut into even worse. so you let him peel it off of you, along with your panties.
“oh god, oh god,” you sobbed, clamping your legs together to keep some of your dignity. art must have been keeping a spare blade tucked in his hand because suddenly he sliced deep into the side of your thigh. you couldn’t help the scream that tore from you, which earned you another gash along your ribcage.
you started to think he was bleeding you dry as slowly as he could. but not after he had his fun first. your body shook underneath his gloved hand as it traveled down your stomach and towards your bare pussy.
part of you thought he was going to force your legs apart and jam as many scalpels inside of you as he could manage, so you resisted when he tried to pry them open. but when he did, after lashing you a few more times, he ran his blood soaked fingertips through your folds, making it slick for him.
it was nauseating at first. but after he pushed two fingers into you, the strange sensation of his fingerless gloves sliding inside, that feeling simmered into pleasure. you choked on a whine, your body fighting the urge to roll your hips into his hand.
your skepticism prevailed the second he slid his blade across your stomach. you cried out, and art felt your cunt squeeze around his fingers. the reaction was satisfactory to him and he gave you a few more markings before deciding you’d had enough for now.
the blade clattered onto the table a moment later and his freed hand went to your breast. you couldn’t deny what it did to you. the pain was beginning to make you delirious and you melted into his touch a few times. you pulled against your restraints but it didn’t get you very far.
for a while, he worked into a steady pace that had you crying out with more pleasure than pain. your cuts stung, but those sharp pains added to your rapidly building orgasm, that was only really accumulating with your eyes closed.
art didn’t seem to appreciate that, quickly finding his blade and carving something into your skin. it tore you out of your momentary tranquility and a scream ripped from your throat. as you did, his other hand curled inside of you and a moan fought to follow. pain and pleasure battled inside of you, and it was sick that the pleasure was threatening to win.
your body twisted to get away from the scalpel in your side but it was to no avail. he cut and sliced until he had crudely carved the word “CUNT” into the fleshy part of the side of your waist. blood oozed out of the deep gashes and art ran his gloved hand through it, smearing it all over your skin. crimson covered your breast as he came up to grab it again.
you got the message to look him in the eyes while you came, which came soon after he added a third finger. how he was able to do it with ease made you sick. you shouldn’t have been enjoying yourself in any way. you would probably need stitches and therapy after this.
but now, all you could focus on was his long fingers. the feel of his fabric white fingerless gloves inside of you, probably soaked with your blood and slick. your gashes burned every time your back arched off of the table but somehow, it intensified the growing fire in your stomach. that tensing of your thighs, the weak thrusts of your hips that attempted to match his.
it amazed you how he was still silent, blue beady eyes focused on you and only you. they started to widen when your moans went pitchy, like he was encouraging you to let go. he didn’t look so scary then. his face went closer to yours, and he was shocked that you didn’t immediately flinch back.
he offered you slow nods as his fingers continued their assault on you. your thighs parted in acceptance and defeat, your orgasm finally crashing into you. moans came out mingled with sobs because it was over.
your mind was spinning, and he granted you a moment to compose yourself before getting back to work. breathy pants quickly turned into raspy screams once more as he swiftly carved something else into the bloodied inside of your thigh:
ART WAS HERE
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milkloafy · 3 months ago
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HEY, BEAUTIFUL STRANGER — DAN HENG
⋆。˚ ❀ summary: in which you are trying to enjoy the wardance on the luofu, the ipc guards ruin everything, and a beautiful stranger comes to help you.  ⋆。˚ ❀ contents: fluff, first meetings (at least in this lifetime…), fem!reader, vidyadhara!reader, reader is anti-ipc uwu, warning for shitty sexist pathetic ipc guards who try to harass reader >:( ⋆。˚ ❀ wc: 1.7k+ ⋆。˚ ❀ a/n: was playing the 2.4 update and this idea was spawned <3 i missed my mans !! was so happy for the dan heng content i can live well again :3 also i hate the ipc so if ur an ipc lover i would scroll past this fic :>
You knew you were capable of defending yourself. 
Verbally, at least.
You were once a distinguished Vidyadhara healer in your past life, aiding in the war efforts to heal wounded fighters on the field, and you were no less capable now in your more normal current life. However, being gifted in the Cloudhymn magic that specialized in healing powers did not mean that same strength carried onto the powers that could part seas and send waves crashing down. 
In short, while you hoped you could be intimidating and defend yourself when needed, in actuality, your physical prowess…lacked. 
Still, you never would have guessed that one of the most humiliating moments in your life would come during a time of festivities at the Wardance when some IPC guards decided to stir up trouble with the unfortunate passerby who accidentally bumped into them on the streets of the Luofu. 
And to be clear, you were that unfortunate passerby. 
“Hey! Watch where you’re going,” sneered an IPC guard as you tripped in front of them, getting distracted by the bustle of Starskiff Central and not noticing the curb beneath your feet. The guard looked to his friend and shook his head with a scoff. “These people here.”
“How shameful of me to have never known the IPC was full of such charming and chivalrous men,” you said sweetly with a smile dripping of honeyed poison as you pushed yourself off the floor and dusted off your skirt with a swift flick of your hands. “I appreciate you both so much for partaking in the simplest task of helping a fallen damsel and being decent humans.” 
The guard who had yet to talk finally spoke up. And you truly wish he hadn’t. 
“You know, you could actually be pretty if you didn’t have such an big mouth,” he said, his metallic voice grating your ears as you fought off the urge to roll your eyes. “Maybe I would’ve helped you up if you just sat there and said sorry instead.”
You folded your arms lazily, a yawn coming out of you from having to engage in such a bothersome and useless conversation. Still, you couldn’t help yourself from continuing to bite back. If there was one flaw about you, it was perhaps that your mouth went running off before your brain and legs could catch up. 
“It’s rather humorous of you to assume I’d want your help in the first place,” you stated as you looked at the guards’ IPC uniforms in disdain. What business would you want with such pathetic interstellar colonizers? “It is also appalling that you place yourself in such high of a pedestal that you would assume I care about what you think of me.” Before the guards could reply, you flipped your hair behind your shoulder and turned sharply on your heels. “Now, this conversation has taken up too much of my time. I have a festival to enjoy. So, if you would please excuse me—”
You felt a heavy hand grab your elbow to prevent you from walking away. Blowing air out of your mouth, you gritted your teeth and tugged your arm to no avail. 
You silently cursed yourself for never taking up martial arts. As much as you liked watching the performances, you personally believed you had seen enough violence in your past life and didn’t see the need to learn any swordsmanship in your current reincarnation. 
All your past lives were cursing at your arrogance now, you could feel it. Or perhaps it was just you internally scolding yourself. 
How much more badass would it be if you had the strength to easily shove the IPC guard’s out of the way and carry on with the Wardance? Instead, you were like a fly caught in a sticky trap, kicking and fighting with no real chance of escape. It was hopeless and embarrassing. 
You felt your face grew hot with humiliation. This is why past you stuck with healing, it seemed. 
“Oh, how cute,” the first IPC guard snickered, looking down at you with a patronizing grin. “Look who finally shut up. If I knew some force was all it would take, I would’ve done this much earlier instead of listening to you talk and talk about how much you—”
“Can you finish talking already?” you asked impatiently, tapping your foot on the floor. “You’re too close to me and your breath stinks.” 
His grip tightened in anger and you hoped he couldn’t see the grimace on your face from the slight feeling of pain in your arm. 
You really did it this time, you thought dryly to yourself. Pissed off the IPC guards just by tripping and opening your mouth. This would be your shortest life yet, at this rate.
Surprisingly, the feeling of pain didn’t last long and a soothing wave of comfort washed over you instead. Your body knew before your eyes could see— A Vidyadhara was around you, helping you. Not only that, but the smallest part of you felt they seemed the slightest bit familiar. 
“Is everything alright here?” a cautious, yet firm, voice asked. 
You looked up and saw a man step in front of you and swiftly yank the guard’s hand away from your arm. The force seemed minimal and effortless, but you knew this familiar stranger had to be strong to fight the burly guard off so easily. 
“That’s none of your business,” scoffed the guard on the left.
Your newfound savior stood resolute and unwavering. “I desire no involvement in your affairs. I only wish to ensure the safety of the Wardance attendees.”
“And you think we’re a threat to safety?” questioned the IPC guard, folding his arms over his chest and frowning. “Seems to me like you’re targeting the IPC. What will they think of the Xianzhou Luofu endlessly bothering the IPC? First, the cargo, now, this.” 
The man in front of you simply shrugged. “Believe what you will.” Instead of engaging in the endless bickering any longer, he turned around and offered you a smile. “Would you like me to escort you to the festivities, miss?” 
Quirking your head to the side, you grinned back and nodded playfully. “Yes, please! You seem like much better company than these idiots over here.” 
“You brat—!”
Eyes widening as the IPC guards began to draw their weapons, you exchanged glances with the grey-eyed man grabbed his wrist, running head first into the crowd and away from the guards with him only a step behind you. 
You would be the death of yourself one day, with no one else to blame, you were sure of it. But for today, you escaped happily. With a cute boy in tow. Somehow, you felt like you won this time. 
Once you were certain the guards lost you, you finally slowed down to catch you breath, a wide smile on your face when you noticed the man stopping next to you, realizing that meant he dutifully followed you amidst the crowd. 
“Thank you for your help…” you trailed off, prompting him for his name. 
“Dan Heng,” he introduced with a nod of greeting. 
“Dan Heng,” you repeated with a chirp. “I’m not sure if I could’ve removed myself from that situation safely without you.” 
He chuckled lightly, shaking his head. “My intuition tells me you would have found a way. Still, I’m glad to be of assistance.” 
You looked around at the booths around you. The streets weren’t filled with vendors like Aurum Alley, but it had its fair share of food stalls littered around. The smell of sweet berrypheasant fruit filled your senses as you immediately perked up at the thought of a treat after a tiresome encounter. 
“Can I get you a little something to show my gratitude?” you asked, with a hopeful glint in your eyes. For whatever reason, you felt comfort and familiarity around Dan Heng. A remnant from your past lives, you considered. “It’s nothing big! But the best berrypheasant skewers are nearby. This food stall even coats the fruit in melted sugar! You have to try it.”
Dan Heng hummed to himself, as if genuinely considering your offer. “I do have to return to the Palace of Astrum soon, but a short detour for some snacks wouldn’t hurt.” He gave you a small smile as he finally made his decision. “Okay, I will join you.”
You clasped your hands together in excitement, leading him over to the beloved skewers you were talking about. 
It took almost getting your ass handed to you by two meathead guards, but at least you managed to meet Dan Heng along the way. Whoever he was.
“Do I seem familiar to you, too?” you blurted without thinking. 
His step faltered but he continued on after a brief pause. “It’s vague, in all honesty. But…yes. There’s some sort of subtle tug.” 
You noticed his slight tone of discomfort and decided not to press the subject. Even if there was a sense of familiarity between the two of you, it was likely in your past lives. And for some Vidyadhara, they preferred the past stayed in the past. Or, they would at least prefer not to share their past with a completely random stranger such as yourself. While that wasn’t the case for you since you seemed to lack self-preservation, you truly wanted respect that about Dan Heng. 
“Cool!” you said simply, quickly changing topics. “Now let’s get some fruit skewers!” 
Slightly taken aback, he bit out a noise of laughter and stood in line next to you. “Gladly.”
You looked up at him with a smile. “And maybe, we can get to know some more about each other. Our current lives.” 
Dan Heng nodded in agreement. “There is still some time before I have to return to the Express. I would enjoy getting to know you more before then.” 
Ecstatic that he agreed, you ordered some fruit skewers and handed one over to him. The two of you happily crunched on the delightful treat and shared a moment of contentment. 
You smiled to yourself as you exhaled happily. Dan Heng requested another skewer and shared a piece with you. 
Nothing could beat good company and a sweet treat. 
For once—just this once—something good came out of the IPC. 
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acid-ixx · 4 months ago
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IM ALMOST DONE
THIS IS GONNA BE GUT-WRENCHING
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Taken from the prequel:
you can't deny the bitterness and the clenching of your teeth whenever you stumble upon a room and see your father and your younger brother watching a movie together.
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— masterlist !
help ??!? u rlly are feeding the community with ur fanart 🩷 bruce and damian bonding together despite it only being months since he was introduced into the family literally ruins any sliver of hope and only furthers the longing (name) would have, and the fact that they're mere silhouettes in the art is so <33 erm ignore my suddenly disappearance for a day or two, i was feeling unwell 💔
otherwise, here's something for u because i appreciate everything you send me ! ft. post-kidnapped reader with yan! bruce and damian.
bruce and damian after kidnapping you would not take lightly the diary entries you have written, expressing jealousy and contempt towards your biological father and half-brother, about how it was alfred who had to take the time of his busy day to watch a movie with you instead. when you write about how you wished alfred was your father instead, bruce would not only feel his heart clenching but he'd also need the feel to prove himself better than the past, that he can and will be the only father you would ever need.
add damian to the mix, who had his own bouts of jealousy towards you, who wanted to bond with you in ways closer than you ever will with your other siblings, who felt that deep pit of guilt that he knows he could never crawl out of, with his addled tantrums...
— and you get yourself an overtly clingy dynamic with those two in the same room as you. now, instead of both of them dismissing your presence, the two would be fixated upon your every movement, your expressions, your actions. anything and everything would be documented and if you ate less or talked less, damian would always be the first to comment upon it, and your dad (as you should be calling bruce) would take damian's observations seriously. there's no escaping their grips.
no, you can't say no just now! damian wants to watch animal documentaries with you and that's the only thing keeping him from slicing someone's head off their body! what do you mean you don't want to spend time with them? bruce just needs to have his baby by his side and— no, just because you're over 18 doesn't mean your family would lessen their affection towards you! you're still so young and who knows what path of self-destruction you'd bring on yourself if you're left to your own whims.
the family is dysfunctional enough, so any concept of personal space is nonexistent. it makes everything worse if you'd have to deal with more than two people in the same room... and two very strong, capable, and deadly vigilantes who invites you to watch movies with them isn't very soothing to your veins but those hands that can crush your throats are your family and they make it obvious that you're the favorite, that despite the... rough past they inflicted on you, they'll always love you; so what's the point in denying them?
you'll be squashed between your father and your youngest brother on the couch, with fluffy blankets and your favorite show playing in the background. you express any ounce of discomfort and bruce would immediately ask you what's wrong, what do you need, are you hungry, perhaps? is the popcorn stale? or do you want another snack? he'll pause the movie and ask you with practiced precision, the furrow on his brows and analytical eyes are an immediate signal that all your answers are taken seriously. yet despite his intimidating tactics, despite the lack of light in the room casting a shadow on his face, he questions you with your head laid on his chest and a scarred hand trying to soothingly run through your hair.
meanwhile, damian wouldn't even hesitate resting his head on your shoulders, finding it useless to silently express his need for your physical affection. so he takes it in himself to wrap his entire body around your torso, hands locking you in a grip that provides scorching heat under the countless of blankets you're already wrapped in. sometimes, he doesn't even know that he occasionally nuzzles against your neck, and you have no way to push yourself away from him because the position you're in makes you sandwiched between your father's chest and damian's body. and you can't do anything about it but puff, asking your youngest if he could be so kind to at least leave you air to breath.
he'll merely comply, but then it's your legs that would be tangled against each other next, and it'd be soon you'll discover that it's meaningless trying to attempt to escape their affection.
because really, you have no way out of this, not when everyone suddenly insists that bonding time with any siblings or with bruce requires your presence above everybody else's.
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sordidmusings · 1 month ago
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Well Earned Praise - Mihawk x Reader
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Art by mugibara
Summary: Mihawk is a man of few words and many gestures. Lucky for him, you understand them all quite well. Lucky for you, he knows when to use those spare few words.
A/N: This is a little celebratory piece for @feral-artistry ! She's made a huge landmark in higher education recently that she's worked her ass off for and deserves all the treats and hype!! I was lucky in getting this one out for it too bless up lol I usually can only get possessed by ideas to flesh them out but being able to get them into actual words in a timely manner??? Near unheard of lol That said, it's only a ficlet but I hope you and anyone reading enjoys!!
It’s heaps of domesticity and Mihawk being what could even be called playful lol there has to be at least a tiny bit of that in there for him to have suffered Shanks for so many years so well 💀 in canon its hidden in stuff like him calling Zoro a rabbit - like you can’t tell me he doesn’t also say that shit to amuse himself on top of belittling opponents
Word Count: ~2.1 k
Warnings: gn!reader, straight up fluff, banter, Mihawk being the Most Obvious in his own way, favoritism, Perona and Zoro are there too, you have a place in all their hearts, found family undertone, family dinner with the edgelords, Mihawk being supportive of your accomplishments in a hopefully in character manner lol
~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~
“And what has you so happy?” Mihawk drawls. 
You’ve barely set foot in the kitchen by the time the question leaves him. Your bright mood from your recent accomplishment is undoubtedly buzzing from you and likely tripped off his haki. Or at least you’d write it off as that if you hadn’t been speaking about it coming up the past few weeks.
Despite his prodding tone, you know that’s just his normal voice and not his grumpy one from all your time living at Kuraigana. There’s also a lack of the miniscule brow or eye twitch that usually precedes The Grumpy Voice. Instead his face is its usual stony facade, looking much too brooding in contrast to the apron Perona had complained him into. It lacks any of the color or frills she wished, but you are sure with enough prodding she will one day get one or the other on your dour host. The one thing that truly binds you all together at Kuraigana is an innate persistence (easily gaining the name “stubbornness” when not in your favor). It is a formidable weapon you wield both for and against each other. Usually against, but that ratio is growing more favorable by the day. Luckily its bad run is mostly in bickering and banter, not actual harm.
“I know you’re getting old, but I didn’t know your memory was already going,” you goad, walking to join him at the prep table at the far end of the kitchen.
“I don’t make the effort to remember the chirping of birds,” he responds blandly, disproving his statement by alluding to the fact that he listened to your frequent gushing about it to Perona. All the while, he continues chopping vegetables with insane speed and accuracy. It will always amuse you to see the world’s greatest swordsman use those skills to harvest and chop veggies. His choice on which you’re starting to recognize as the mix to make your favorite meal.
“Uhuh,” you reply, obviously incredulous. “I suppose you don’t have much room in that head of yours for anything besides swords play.”
“It’s dangerous to insult the one handling your food you know,” he warns with the barest hint of humor warming his low voice.
“This cook wouldn’t stoop to poisons,” you assure him, “though I will need to watch my back during sparring.”
“If you’ve actually taken to my lessons, you’d know to do that anyway,” Mihawk chastises with narrowed eyes. You chuckle at his predictability - always so prickly if he felt you weren’t taking your crafts seriously.
“We both know I’d be dead if I didn’t,” you point out. The silence, save for the steady thumping of knife on cutting board, is his begrudging agreement. 
That silence quickly turns comfortable, its ease built on a few hundred hours of peaceful companionable silence that you’ve shared. Mostly they were filled with quiet sips of wine, rustling pages, crackling logs, and calm music. Your favorite is when the sweet serenade of the night’s bugs leaks in the cracked windows, heralded by a cool breeze playing with the curtains. A few hundred more hours spent in travel and training built quite the familiarity and warmed your heart from simple attraction to true affection for this untouchable man.
That affection only makes you treasure these moments more. Seeing him in an apron performing a homemaker’s duties isn’t only amusing; there’s a twinge of vulnerability to it. This man, who is an embodiment of death collecting its due for most, is comfortable with you seeing such human pieces of himself. He’s connected with you and your housemates enough to let you each have your mark on him in subtle ways. There is proof enough of it in this kitchen - now always well stocked with sake and sweets, the allowance of a few cutesy mugs ready for use, fresh eggs from the chickens he’d gotten for convenience and definitely not because of your love of animals. (You hadn’t broken him on goats yet but you were far from giving up on that one).
Your thoughts are interrupted by him breaking the hypnotizing motion of his knife to back away from the counter.
“I need to stop in the garden,” Mihawk explains. He casts a pointed gaze at you on his exit. “Don’t go in the fridge.”
The moment he’s taken his exit, you disobey the order. More like a poorly veiled hint. The bright lights of the fridge spotlight quite the treat for you. There’s a menagerie of desserts taking up the top shelf, everything from macaroons to tiramisu to cheesecake to fruit tarts. The colorful display almost kept you from noticing the restock of your drawers of charcuterie below. He really spared no expense; rare cured meats and exotic cheeses were huddled around a large supply of all your favorites, a variety of mustards, jams, and preserves in cute little jars tucked neatly to one side. You can’t help how gooey the gesture makes your heart and how that feeling’s definitely still going to be all over your face when he gets back.
Accepting that fate, you don’t even try to hide it when he comes back through the door with fresh herbs in hand. Mihawk goes through the motions of wiping off his boots and making his way back, all nonchalant confidence, until he looks at you and is struck frozen. He stands and holds your loving gaze for a long stretch of breaths. He’s the first to break your eye contact, looking the closest to unsure that you’ve ever seen him. His face would never tell, but his shoulders curl just a bit up and forward before you see him shove them back into their usual sure posture.
You think he’s going to leave the whole thing unacknowledged, as he’s wont to do with your increasingly common Moments. He shatters that thought when he lays a hand on your arm as he passes, giving it a gentle squeeze. The warmth from his large palm leaves a lasting impression on you. The ravenously yearning part of you - the one you try to keep settled - begins telling you how deliciously warm he must run, how he must be the perfect spot for a nap, how those warm hands would feel easing your muscles, how they would feel-
“Managing to get lost while standing still? Should I worry about that with you too?” Mihawk teases. It’s quite impressive how droll he can be when he lets himself.
“If I say yes, does that mean I’m free of being his human compass?” you joke.
“Only until it’s time to be rid of you both,” he answers easily.
“What?” you ask in mock offense. “No send off party? No tearful goodbyes? And here I thought you were the sentimental type.”
“Obviously,” he agrees, gifting you the first tiny, crooked smile of the night.
Wanting to end on a high note, you let the conversation go and instead focus on trying to find ways to help. It goes poorly. Every task you make for is suddenly already being done by Mihawk, or he’s suddenly blocking you from the means to start. Many an ingredient is intercepted, dish grabbed first, or scraps thrown to trash and compost. The absurd game of keep away it makes is funny to you at first but soon becomes frustrating.
“You’re treating me like an invalid,” you huff.
“I didn’t know you were so fond of labor,” Mihawk drawls. Sly eyes slide your way. “Should I put you back on prepping the new beds?”
“No,” you answer quickly. The new garden spot was chosen for convenient location not ease of creation; the ground was mostly clay and full of rocks with the top carpeted thick with sod and weeds. It would have to be cleared off, rocks dug out, manure and sand and peat moss shoveled in, then all mixed thoroughly to break up the clay. It was grueling work. It was Zoro work.
Mihawk goes back to his cooking with an air of satisfaction. You settle for watching and stealing bites to eat from the food he’s making. He pretends to be annoyed. It lets you both play a new game of keep away where you try to sneak and snatch and he tries to swat you away, usually without even taking his eyes off his task. This continues until the meal is nearly done, when he sends you off to your room to “look proper for a nice meal”. You pretend to be offended but he doesn’t buy it.
You don’t want to spend long getting ready, much more set on spending time with the others, but you also didn’t want to let an excuse to dress up go to waste. By the time you’re headed to the usual dining room, you’re layered in expensive fabric with a fresh face and freshly styled hair.
Mihawk is awaiting you at the grand doors, unfortunately lacking that apron. Instead you get him in a flowing shirt, textured in subtle filigree the same deep red as the whole. It is, of course, open to show off his Kogatana and the sun-kissed skin it rests on. As you get closer, you notice his pants are tailored slacks and his boots have been replaced with dress shoes you wouldn’t have even guessed he owned. Not for a lack of class or style, but for a lack of people and occasions he’d deem worthy of the effort. 
You feel almost silly thinking he’s going through all this effort for you but there’s no other explanation. When you stop next to him, you could swear that even his beard is freshly oiled and combed. You’re too lost in your appraisal of him to notice how his own heated eyes are roving over you. You catch them for a brief moment before they fix to your face. To interrupt the loving taunt about to move your tongue, Mihawk holds the door open for you and gestures you inside.
Zoro and Perona are sat at the table behind pristine place settings. They haven’t even noticed the sound of your entrance over their own bickering. Perona always looks dolled up, but there’s something a little extra in the detail of her makeup and not a single hair on her head is out of place. What’s much more surprising than her is that Zoro looks all cleaned up. He’s still in his usual style but not a speck of dirt is on the clothes and his hair looks slightly damp from a recent shower. It’s hard not to laugh at the idea of Mihawk commanding him to bathe like one would a defiant child and Perona having to throw him in the bath like he’s a hissing cat.
Before you move to join them, Mihawk’s hands catch your shoulders. Their capability for gentleness will always amaze you, and this caress to halt you is no exception. His thumbs swipe across your skin a few times, seeming to relish the motion, before he leans forward. There’s a moment where his cheek brushes the crown of your head before his breath floats over your ear and neck, raising goosebumps over your skin. His lips, surprisingly soft, tickle the tip of your ear as he whispers to you. The words strike you and leave you frozen even as he brushes past you towards the table, leaving the scent of spiced cologne in his wake.
Your housemates finally notice you and both send toothy smiles and celebratory cheers your way. You feel almost bad that you have to shake yourself off to match their energy. Once you get close to the table, Zoro is trying to convince you to share his best sake with him while Perona tells you that’s dumb and you should instead focus on looking through the gifts she’s gotten you. You only laugh as dark fabric and frilly stuffies are shoved your way to intercept the persistent attempts to place an o-choko by your plate. 
Mihawk sighs at the commotion, muttering something about wanting a peaceful dinner for you as he pulls out your chair. His grumbling is undercut by the softness easing the lines from his face. When you meet his eyes as he pushes your chair in, you notice the usually violent amber of them has darkened to flowing honey. His words ring in your head loudly again, causing a loving smile to warm your face. He answers with a brief smile of his own, the smallest curl of his lips and crinkle of his eyes, but it's enough to set your heart racing. It pumps electricity through you, tingling your fingertips and sending his words to spin even faster in your head. Even when your heart calms and is instead made full from loving company, you hold the sound of his voice in your mind.
It’s the first time you’ve heard the words from him, and now that you know their sweetness, you’ll chase that high in all your endeavors.
“I’m proud of you.”
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kbspangler · 8 months ago
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This is the public statement from @alepresser and myself which went up at Webtoons tonight.
Now for some ranting. Just from me, not from Ale—she's innocent of the art crimes I've committed in the past, and boy howdy have I committed art crimes.
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This is the first page of my first webcomic, A Girl and Her Fed. I started this thing back in 2006. (I don't actually need a head count of those reading this who weren't yet born in 2006. I'm sure you're delightful and I wish you well in college.)
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And this is the last page I drew in early 2020 before I turned art duties over to Dr. Beer. It's better, right?
Well, these days, A Girl and Her Fed has pages like this:
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I drew this comic for fourteen fucking years because it's a story I wanted to tell, and I thought webcomics were the perfect format for it. I didn't know how to draw. I got better through sheer obstinate perseverance and sticking to deadlines as best I could for, again, fourteen fucking years. I sought out a replacement artist when I ran into time constraints and couldn't do art plus writing anymore; I'm a much better writer than an artist, so I had no problems whatsoever kicking art to the curb.
The first time Ale sent me art that would go up on the website—art I hadn't needed to draw myself—I literally cried in relief because I had been grinding myself down for, yet again, fourteen fucking years.
So when I read comments from people who say they want to make a webcomic but can't draw themselves and therefore need to resort to AI, that little line between my eyes gets dangerously deep.
This isn't like I'm some old dude who's bitching over student loans getting cancelled after making regular payments. This is me, someone who threw raw art onto the internet like a monkey hurling fresh poo, because I wanted to make a webcomic and the art is part of the process of storytelling via webcomics! I could've (arguably should've) hired an artist right out of the gate, and that would've been part of the process of making comics, too: a partnership between an artist and a writer is also something which grows and develops over time.
For example, after Dr. Beer and I spent two years working on AGAHF, we decided we enjoyed our partnership so much that we set out to make another webcomic! It's great! It's got wonderful art and consistent storytelling! You should read it!
But turning art duties over to unaltered images generated by AI because you want to make a webcomic but "just can't draw" is, frankly, a bullshit excuse. I'm not talking about persons who are physically unable to draw due to disability—I'm talking about people who say they want to make webcomics but simply don't wanna do the art part.
Friends, if you don't want to show your entire ass in front of God and country, you don't actually want to make a webcomic.
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Do the thing yourself.
If you're scared, don't be. Take the plunge. Set a goal of twenty strips and do the thing yourself. If you can already draw but can't write? Great! Write twenty strips, write forty panels, etc. You might surprise yourself. If you can write but can't draw? Great! Draw twenty panels and see what happens.
Whatever comes out of it, it's a thing you've done yourself. It's something new you've given to the world, no matter how big or small. Be proud of that. And if you need to partner with someone else to make your comic dreams work? You can do that, too! It's still a thing you've done yourself, and many projects are stronger when done together.
...but maaaaaaaaaybe hire that partner before you've busted your own ass for fourteen fucking years. That one's on me.
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dandelions-143 · 5 months ago
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Secrets
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Hyunjin Masterlist
For Other Members Masterlist
Pairing: non Idol, Rich, Bad Boy Hyunjin x Mid/Plus size, College student, Fem! Reader.
Word Count: 2670k
Warnings: Sexual content and descriptions, Body image issues, Infidelity, Alcohol consumption, Drug use (mention of marijuana), Emotional manipulation,Trust issues in relationships
Summary: Established relationship between Y/n and Hyunjin but it’s technically a secret. What happens when Hyunjin is pretty much caught kissing someone else?
A/N: THIS ONES A LITTLE DEEP…The bad boy series I’ve been slowly writing does cross over here and there. This party that Hyunjin attends is the same one from Do It For Me but, y/n from that story is a completely different y/n than this one. Each member will get there own little story with crossovers. Currently working on a playlist for this series so stay tuned! Also if you have already read this just ignore!! Adding all saved tags to all of my works. If you wish to no longer be tagged just let me know.
You had just gotten home from your last class of the week. You dropped your heavy bag full of art history books by the door of your dark apartment. As the door closed, you kicked off your shoes and began to unzip your jacket. You were so tired from a full day of classes at university that you didn't care about leaving a trail of clothes behind you as you made your way to the bathroom.
You were in desperate need of a hot bath to relax and unwind. By the time you flipped on the bathroom lights, you were standing in nothing but your cute little Hello Kitty panties—a gift from your grandmother who still seemed to think you were 12.
"Cute." A velvety voice sliced through the silence of your apartment, making you jump nearly out of your skin.
You instantly covered your breasts as you turned around to see who had broken into your apartment. When your wide, terrified eyes met his dark and brooding stare, you let out a loud sigh of relief. "Hyunjin! You scared me to death!" A soft giggle escaped your now smiling lips, but you still kept your hands over your exposed breasts.
Hyunjin walked over to you, allowing you to really take him in. He wore dark jeans with rips in them, a black and blue shirt with a matching beanie. His long fingers were adorned with his signature silver rings. "I like these," he said as he playfully slipped a finger into the waistband of your panties and tugged at them gently. "Although they would look so much better on the floor."
You blushed and stepped back a little, trying to shield your half-naked body from his intense gaze. You couldn't help but be shy around him, even though you two had been together for months now and were well past the point of seeing one another naked for the first time. Hyunjin was perfect to you—tall and lean, with beautiful lips and long hair. And you... well... you were soft and thicker in the middle than you would like to be.
You had dimples on the back of your thighs and faint stretch marks here and there. In your mind, you were not the type of girl a guy like Hyunjin would ever want. So when he wanted to be intimate, you got bashful and asked to have the lights low or off completely.
Hyunjin stood there for a minute, and you could see the wheels in his head turning. "What?" you asked softly. Hyunjin stepped closer to you and wrapped his long arms around you, pulling you into his chest. "Honey, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever had the chance to know." Hyunjin ran his hands soothingly up and down your back for a while.
He kissed the top of your head, and then his hands began to wander. He spread his large hands over the plump swell of your ass and gripped you hard. "I love this ass." He moved his hands around to your curvy hips and pulled you into him. Your hips met his, and your bodies seemed to fit so well together. "I love these hips."
Hyunjin lazily dragged his hands up your soft stomach to pull your hands away from your breasts. You reluctantly let your arms fall to your sides, and his hands cupped them, squeezing and playing gently with your nipples. "I fucking love your tits," he groaned and leaned down to leave soft, open-mouthed kisses around your nipple before taking it between his pretty lips, sucking gently.
Your hands tugged off his beanie and slipped seamlessly through his long hair as a soft sigh escaped your mouth. His eyes stayed on your face the entire time. Once he gave a little love to your other breast, he slowly knelt down in front of you and began to kiss up your thigh. His warm tongue gently lapped at your soft skin. "Mmm, and these thighs—you could smother me with them. I would die a happy man."
You couldn't help but giggle at his absurd words, but Hyunjin only continued. He hooked his fingers into the sides of your Hello Kitty panties and pulled them down. "And your pussy..." He leaned in, kissing the lips of your now very wet sex. "It's so pretty and pink, so warm, soft, and tight. Just perfect for me." He gazed at you as if admiring a work of art, and in that moment, you allowed yourself to be seen.
He made you feel truly beautiful—the way he touched you, spoke about you, and looked at you. Hyunjin stood up and once again pulled you close, engulfing you in his arms. "Let's take a bath, yeah?" he said simply before kissing your lips a few times.
Once the bath was drawn, you watched as Hyunjin undressed. He was lean and muscular in all the right places, with a few small tattoos scattered across his skin. His erection stood proud between his muscular thighs. Hyunjin stepped in first and sat down, holding out his hand to help you into the bath as well. "Face me?" he asked, and you complied, settling onto his thighs.
You could feel the twitch of his cock resting against your lower stomach. Hyunjin's hands rested on your thighs before moving up to your hips, pulling you closer. He dipped his head, pressing his lips to yours. The kiss started slow and sweet, just how you liked it. Hyunjin seemed to know all your preferences.
His wet tongue swiped across your bottom lip, seeking entry. You parted your lips without hesitation, allowing his tongue to tangle with yours. The only sounds were the gentle sloshing of bathwater and the soft, wet noises of your deep kisses.
When you finally pulled apart to breathe, Hyunjin's gaze was filled with need. His hands roamed over your body, cupping your breasts and gripping your thighs. "I want you so bad, y/n," he breathed against your lips. "Fuck me, baby..." His velvety voice cut through the silence as his strong hands lifted you up.
Hyunjin helped position you, his cock poised at your entrance. "Is this okay? I don't have protection," he asked cautiously. You always used protection, but at this moment, you couldn't care less. Your body craved him, needing every inch inside you. "I don't care, it's fine," you said hurriedly, gripping his broad shoulders as you sank down onto him.
You gasped loudly at how deep he was inside you. Hyunjin's unexpected whimper surprised you, but you found yourself loving it—he was usually so quiet in bed. You moved your hips in a circular motion, causing water to slosh out of the tub, but neither of you cared.
Eventually, you found a rhythm together, Hyunjin rolling his hips up to meet yours. Your arms wrapped firmly around his neck as you made love in an agonizingly slow way. It was sweet torture, both of you chasing that high but taking your time to savor every moment.
"God, you feel so good wrapped around me," Hyunjin murmured, his lips trailing from your chest to your neck. He peppered kisses and love bites across your breasts and collarbone. Your moans grew louder and deeper as your orgasm approached.
Hyunjin's breathy moans became more urgent and intense. His hands grew greedier, tugging and gripping at your wet skin. Your bodies slid smoothly against each other as you moved together. "Hyunjin... I'm going to cum," you whined, burying your face in his neck to muffle your sounds.
Hyunjin lifted your head, cupping your chin. "Look at me as you cum," he said, his lips parted and breathing heavy. You could tell he was close too, his thighs trembling beneath you. "Oh fuck... cum with me," you moaned as your orgasm hit you hard.
Your cries of pleasure filled the room as you clenched around him. You felt Hyunjin pulse inside you, his eyes rolling back and head tilting as his own release washed over him. "Fuck, y/n," he chanted your name until he was spent.
His head fell onto your chest, your arms loosely encircling him. "Baby... you're going to be the death of me," he said with a muffled laugh against your breast. "Like you said, at least you'd die a happy man," you teased. Hyunjin lifted his head and kissed your lips softly. "Hell yes, I would. I'm the happiest man on Earth right now."
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After regaining your strength and cleaning up, you both took a shower together before deciding to fix a late supper. Hyunjin fetched water for you both, walking shamelessly around in nothing but his boxers. You were cooking some ramen in the kitchen, wearing his oversized shirt.
You two had been dating for a while, but despite spending so much time together, you had yet to meet his friends or family. He hadn't met yours either. You both had agreed to keep your relationship low-key, mainly due to your parents being difficult and having your entire life planned out for you. Hyunjin said he had his reasons as well, but as you stood in the kitchen, you couldn't recall him ever sharing those reasons.
"Babe, can I ask you something?" you called to him across the small space separating your kitchen from the living room.
"Anything," he replied, entering the kitchen with a smile. His arms snaked around your waist, pulling you close.
"Do you think maybe we could start telling people about us?" His eyes clouded at this question, and his hold on you loosened.
"I'd just like to do more than eat at my place," you continued. "I want to see where you live. I want to meet your friends and family. I actually think I'm ready for you to meet my parents too." You turned off the stove, drained the noodles, and placed them in separate bowls. Hyunjin watched you for a moment before speaking.
"Y/n, I'd love to go on dates with you, and we can do things anytime you want, but you don't want to meet my friends or family." He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "They... they just aren't worthy of meeting someone as precious as you." He then flashed that sweet smile of his and pulled you close again, pecking your lips.
"I have some things to take care of on Saturday, but Sunday, let's go eat brunch and have a day out together. What do you say?" His eyes shone as he looked down at you. You melted instantly and nodded.
"Okay, we can go shopping, maybe see a movie," you suggested. As you two settled in to eat and spend the evening together, a nagging thought lingered in the back of your mind: why couldn't you meet his family and friends? Why couldn't you see that side of his life?
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The next morning, sunlight filtered through your bedroom window, casting a golden glow over your face and gently rousing you from sleep. You reached out, finding Hyunjin's side of the bed empty and cold. With a small stretch, you crawled out of bed, memories of last night's intimacy bringing a smile to your face.
Slipping on Hyunjin's discarded shirt, you went in search of your lover. You found him on the balcony, a coffee mug on the small iron table beside him and a sketchpad in hand. The morning sun illuminated his features, making him look even more beautiful than usual. Your heart clenched as the thought "I love this man" passed through your mind, though you weren't ready to say those words aloud.
Hyunjin must have heard you approaching. As you slid your hands over his bare shoulders, he turned to kiss the side of your hand. "Mmm, how did you sleep?" he asked softly, looking up at you. Your eyes moved from his handsome face to the sketch he was drawing. "I slept really well. I see you didn't sleep that well," you replied, leaning down to kiss the top of his head.
"I just have things on my mind. Nothing to worry about, though. Come here," he said, gently tugging you around the chair and onto his lap. You sat in comfortable silence, watching the sun rise higher and feeling its warmth. Hyunjin peppered tiny kisses on your shoulder, neck, and cheek.
"Are you getting hungry? Maybe we could go out for breakfast?" you asked. Just then, Hyunjin's phone rang, instantly distracting him. "Hold on, love," he said, gently moving you off his lap to take the call inside. You sighed heavily and glanced at his sketch—a very pretty woman, naked in her bed, curled up with twisted covers around her.
"Y/n," Hyunjin's voice pulled you from your thoughts. "I'm sorry, but I have to go." He was buttoning his pants as he approached, hoodie in hand. "Really? How long will you be gone?" you asked, watching him with pleading eyes. You wanted to ask him to stay, but held back, not wanting to seem clingy. You followed him inside, watching as he put on his shoes and hoodie. "I'm not sure, baby. I know I'll be late. I'll call you to let you know if I'm coming over to stay again, okay?"
He finally looked at you properly as he ran his fingers through his messy black hair. Seeing your expression, his face softened. "Don't be upset. I still remember promising you a date tomorrow. You'll have me all day." Hyunjin pulled you close, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips, then your forehead. "I'll see you soon, my love." And with that, you watched him leave.
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Hours passed since Hyunjin's departure. You reached out to friends, hoping to hang out, but everyone was busy. To distract yourself from boredom, you turned on music and cleaned your apartment. Throughout the day, you texted him several times and called once, but received no response.
As night fell, you sat on your couch, struggling to focus on assignments for your classes. Your mind kept wandering to thoughts of Hyunjin.
Where was he? Why was he always so secretive?
Just as your thoughts began to spiral, your phone lit up with your friend's name. You answered on the second ring. "Hey, Dea. How are you?"
"I'm good! Actually, I was calling to see if you'd want to go to a party tonight?" Her tone was hopeful. She knew parties weren't your thing—you'd rather visit an art museum than watch college kids act wild. "Umm... I... I don't know."
Dea huffed into the phone. "Oh, come on! You never have fun. You never go out. You're always with that mystery guy. Come hang out with me. I promise I won't get drunk, and if you end up having a really bad time, we can leave." You considered it for a moment, hearing her whisper "please" repeatedly under her breath. You couldn't help but smile at her childlike energy. "Okay, fine. Come pick me up and I'll go with you. But if you leave my side, I'm never hanging out with you again."
Dea squealed into the phone, making you jerk it away from your ear. "Yes! Okay, I promise you'll have a good time! See you soon." After hanging up, you started getting ready.
Not trying to impress anyone, you slipped on a pair of jeans and a simple beige tank top. You left your hair down and applied minimal makeup. Sandals to match your tank completed the look. Dea, on the other hand... When you opened your door to leave with her, she was fully put together in a classic little black dress, her makeup flawless and hair loosely curled around her face. She was tall, thin, and gorgeous.
"Come on, bestie!" She grabbed your hand and pulled you out the door.
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On the way to the party, you learned that Dea's friend Minho—whom you'd only met once—had invited her. The event was being hosted by Minho's best friend, Chan. As you approached your destination, anxiety crept in; you didn't know any of these people.
It turned out Chan came from wealth. Dea pulled up to a mansion in a gated community, resembling a miniature White House. "Dea, what the fuck?" was all you could muster. She grinned widely, "I know, right? Minho said it was a big house, but damn... this guy must be loaded."
After parking and overcoming your initial awe, you followed Dea inside. The place was packed with bodies. "Come on, Y/n! Let's get a drink!" Dea linked arms with you, pulling you through the crowd. The air was hot and hazy with cigarette and weed smoke. People were dancing, shouting, or engaged in intimate acts—you even spotted a couple grinding against a wall.
You eventually found the drinks, manned by a cute guy with chubby cheeks and wavy brown hair that fell over his round eyes. "Two beers please!" you yelled over the music. He looked at you oddly. "This isn't a bar! Get it yourself!" he shouted back before turning to a long-haired blond guy. Rolling your eyes, you grabbed two cups and poured drinks for yourself and Dea.
"Here yo—" you began, but Dea had vanished. "Seriously!" Leaving the beer behind, you searched for your friend, determined to give her a piece of your mind when you found her.
You wandered through the massive house and even checked the backyard pool area. No luck. Deciding to head for the front door to call an Uber, you navigated the maze-like crowd of tipsy partygoers. In what appeared to be the living room, you finally spotted Dea dancing with a muscular dark-haired guy.
"You've got to be kidding me," you muttered, approaching her. But you froze, witnessing the worst sight imaginable.
There on the couch was your boyfriend, kissing a heavily tattooed girl. You felt faint, your heart pounding painfully. The music blared, but you couldn't hear it. As another guy pulled the girl off Hyunjin, his eyes met yours.
His dark brown gaze locked onto you. At first, you were paralyzed, but as he rushed towards you, your legs sprang into action. You pushed through the crowd, desperate to escape. At the front door, Hyunjin caught up, grabbing your arm. "Y/n! Please wait!"
You didn't pull away but kept moving, tugging in the opposite direction as Hyunjin tried to draw you closer. He gave up and followed you to Dea's car. "Y/n, just let me explain. That wasn't what it looked like." You whirled around, fixing him with tear-filled, angry eyes. "It wasn't? Then tell me, Hyunjin, what the hell was it?"
He stumbled over his words, "She's my best friend. The one I've mentioned from high school. She was only trying to make Chan jealous. I didn't even kiss her back." He reached for your hands, but you stepped away. "Don't." The simple word visibly hurt him, but you couldn't bear his touch.
Tears streamed down your face. "Okay, let's say I believe that. Why didn't you tell me about this party? Why didn't you invite me?" You hugged yourself, closing off. "Are you embarrassed to be seen with me, Hyunjin? Am I not pretty enough to be seen with you like your so-called best friend?"
He inched forward, hands outstretched. "No, baby, God no! That's not... that's not it at all. I've told you how I feel about you." You pulled out your phone, "Actually, no, you haven't. I never know what's going on in your head. In fact, I barely know you at all, and we've been dating for six months!" You raised the phone to your ear, "Dea, I'm at the car. Can we leave? I'm suddenly having the worst time. I want to go home."
Dea agreed to come right away. "Please... let's talk about this," Hyunjin pleaded, finally grasping your hand. You jerked away. "Don't touch me!" Seeing Dea emerge from the house, you delivered your parting words: "When you're no longer ashamed to be seen with me in public, call me. But for now, just leave me alone." You got into the car as Dea approached, her questions already beginning.
Hyunjin remained in the darkened street, wiping his eyes as tears fell freely.
Tags:
@cashtonsbetch @moonndustx @katsukis1wife @valkyriexo @hyunjinhoexxx @ihrtlino @breezy-simp @vixensss @yaorzu-blog @tirena1 @whatdoyouwanttocallmefor @chuuyaobsessed @doohnut @babigriin @iovecb97 @kpflyn @rylea08 @sheerfreesia007 @tsunderelino @cookiesandcreammy @rockstarkkami @moonchild9350 @syedazarintasnim @myflowercloud @143hyunes @luvyblossom @shecheatedwithme @antisocialties @akaligogrrr @thisaintredwine @rose-w-00-d @jisuperboard @velvetmoonlight @kayleefriedchicken @skzfelixlove @athforskz
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hoshifighting · 5 months ago
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Heyy I love reading your blog, smut specially. I think no one write this better than you ehehehe.
So, how about pussy drunk mingyu, who's have not get to eat you out for a long time as reader's finals week is going on, so when he get the permission to finally get down. He is all giggling and happy as he fucks reader with his tongue and fingers.
Idk it just sounds cute and yet very endering for me
mingyu giving oral, after you spent weeks studying nonstop
a/n: thanks a bunch for checking out my blog!! it's dope to know that I'm giving u a good read 🥰🥰 💋
warnings: smut, pussy eating, fingering, clit stimulation.
the past few weeks had been an intense blur of textbooks, highlighters, and endless nights spent studying for your finals. mingyu, ever the supportive boyfriend, had been by your side through it all. his knowledge seemed limitless—physics, mathematics, arts—he was good at almost every subject. whenever you felt overwhelmed, he knew exactly where to find the best study sources and would send you video classes from youtube. those short videos packed all the information you needed in just a few minutes, saving you precious time.
mingyu's help had been invaluable, but he wished he could do more. every time he glanced at you, he saw the tension in your shoulders, as if you were carrying the weight of the world. he would always offer you a massage, sometimes suggesting more intimate ways to relieve stress. but your anxiety about the tests made sex the last thing on your mind, and he understood. he was patient, always reassuring you that it was okay, that he didn’t mind waiting. he knew what it was like to be a college student, after all.
finally, the day of your last test arrived. you walked into your apartment with a big smile, clutching the exam paper that displayed your high score. the moment mingyu saw you, he lifted you into the air, covering your face, neck, and shoulders with kisses.
“you did it! i’m so proud of you!” he exclaimed, his eyes shining with pride.
you laughed, feeling lighter than you had in weeks. “i couldn’t have done it without you, mingyu. you were my rock.”
setting you down gently, he looked at you with a mixture of love and desire. “you look exhausted, baby. how about you take a warm bath to get rid of all that tension?”
you nodded, feeling the stress of the past weeks starting to melt away. “that sounds perfect.”
as you turned to head to the bathroom, mingyu leaned in and whispered in your ear, his breath warm against your skin, “i’ll be waiting for you in the bedroom, to get rid of every single bit of tension.”
a shiver ran down your spine, and you bit your lip, feeling a spark of excitement. you grabbed a towel and rushed to the bathroom, eager for the first time in weeks.
the warm water enveloped you, washing away the last remnants of stress. you closed your eyes, allowing yourself to relax completely. after what felt like an eternity, you stepped out, wrapped the towel around yourself, and headed to the bedroom.
mingyu was waiting for you, as promised, lying on the bed with a look of anticipation. he smiled as you entered, his eyes raking over your form. “feeling better?”
you nodded, dropping the towel and slipping into bed beside him. “much better.”
his hands were warm and gentle as they began to massage your shoulders, working out the knots of tension. you closed your eyes, leaning into his touch. “you have no idea how good this feels.”
he chuckled softly, his breath tickling your ear. “i think i have some idea.”
you raise an eyebrow, teasingly. "and what would that idea be?" you ask.
mingyu smiles, a glint of hunger in his eyes as he lays you down on the bed, gently opening your towel to reveal your naked form. droplets of water still adorn your skin, catching the light. his gaze intensifies, and you can sense that your eagerness is growing.
without warning, mingyu's warm mouth descends on you, his lips and tongue immediately finding your clit. your mind goes completely blank, all the stress and information from your studies vanishing in an instant. your eyes roll back, and a gasp escapes your lips as he expertly alternates between flicking and sucking, his tongue dancing with precision.
mingyu has always been greedy when giving you oral, and tonight is no exception. his eyes never leave your face, studying every reaction. he knows exactly how to break you, paying attention to the way you tremble when his tongue flicks a little faster or the way your moans turn to broken whimpers when he sucks your clit into his mouth.
you expected some preliminaries, like kisses on your thighs or gentle licks, but mingyu goes straight to what he knows you need. his intensity leaves you breathless, and you can feel yourself getting wetter with each passing second. mingyu isn't a man of quickies; even with oral, he takes his time to give you the full experience. his mouth is relentless, and just when you think you can't take any more, he adds his fingers to the mix.
his middle and ring finger slide into you effortlessly, and you barely notice the initial stretch. he pumps them in and out slowly, matching the rhythm of his tongue on your clit. your back arches, and you grasp at the sheets, feeling everything twice as intensely after so long without release.
mingyu's mouth works in tandem with his fingers, and you can feel the tension building inside you, coiling tighter and tighter. his tongue and fingers play you like an instrument, and you can't hold back any longer. the wave of pleasure crashes over you, and you cry out, your body trembling as the orgasm breaks through you.
mingyu doesn't stop, his mouth and fingers coaxing every last bit of pleasure from you until you're completely spent, collapsing back onto the bed with a contented sigh. he moves up to lie beside you, a satisfied smile on his face.
"feeling better?" he asks, brushing a strand of hair from your forehead.
you nod, breathless and blissful. "much better."
he kisses your forehead tenderly.
mingyu smirks, clearly pleased with himself. "by the way, what's the formula for newton's second law?" he asks playfully.
you stare at him, completely dumbfounded. "huh?" your mind, still foggy from the intense orgasm, struggles to recall the subject you've been studying for weeks and the exam you just took today.
he chuckles, enjoying your reaction. "just messing with you," he says, brushing a kiss across your forehead. "i'll let you recover. you're too sensitive right now."
you let out a breathless laugh, and you can still feel the effects of pleasure. "yeah, i think we need to take things slow for a bit," you agree, knowing it will take a little time to ease back into the rhythm of the constant sex you two usually enjoyed.
mingyu pulls you into his arms, holding you close. "no rush," he whispers. "we have all the time in the world."
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chaengluva · 6 months ago
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Shy
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Regina George x Fem!Reader: 2.6k words
You were so excited to show your girlfriend, Regina, your amazing artwork, but when you see it it’s completely ruined and when you find out who ruined it, your heart breaks. Regina finds the perfect way to cheer you up.
Warnings: Bullying, betrayal, slight angst, smut, Dom!Regina, Sub!Reader, Strap on, Eating out, Fingering, Mommy kink, don't mind Regina calling the strap her cock
I don’t usually write smut so sorry if its bad
In the beginning, Janis and Damien started to ignore you because you were dating Regina. It made you feel very lonely and Regina hated seeing you this way. You were sitting alone in art class, usually Janis and Damien would sit with you, but when they heard the news their heart broke with betrayal.
You pretended that it didn't bother you at all but it really did, they were whispering and giving you dirty looks throughout the whole class, you brushed it off and continued to paint, you were painting a mountain sight with the focus point being a waterfall. "That looks amazing Y/n!" The teacher says walking past, you smile, feeling proud of yourself, "Thanks miss."
You look over at Janis and Damien, seeing that they look at each other and roll their eyes, you sigh deeply and put your focus back on your artwork and add some final touches to the piece. The bell rang, you packed up all your stuff and left the artwork up so it could dry, you grabbed your bag and headed to the cafeteria.
You smiled when you saw Regina and quickly sat down next to her, she could feel the sadness in your body just by the way you sat down and how your smile wasn't genuine, she pulled you closer by your waist and leaned down slightly to whisper in your ear, "What's wrong baby?"
You look up at her with sad eyes, "I just don't get it, Janis and Damien will never let this grudge go." Regina sighs, pushing hair behind your ear, "Yeah It's going to take them a while to come to their senses, Let's talk about something that makes you happy?" You smile, "Well The teacher said she liked my artwork today, I really liked what I did!"
Regina smiled at you, "Well come on then, show me what you did." Regina said getting up, you smile brightly, dragging her to art class, you don't notice but Janis and Damien Smirk as you go to the art class.
You made it to the class and opened the door, confused why it's not locked. You brush it off and walk straight in and turn the lights off, you walk to where your artwork was drying, you look at it and gasp at what you see, Regina is standing behind you and gaps. "Y/n?"
Someone had poured black paint over the whole canvas, the painting was not dry yet so there was no saving the artwork, "My painting!" You gasp, this was the art work you had for an assessment that was 50% of your final grade and It was due in two days, you start to panic and the tears come to your eyes.
"It was good! Someone ruined it." You defended, she pulled you in for a hug, giving you comfort, "Don't worry baby..We will find out who did this." You nod, she wipes your tears and takes you to the principal's office.
You tell them what happened, the principle says that she'll check the footage, you ask if you allowed an extension on the assessment but she doesn't give you one, you start to panic again, Regina pulls you close to her and comforts you, "Baby it's okay, we will go to the shops after school and get whatever you need, I'll stay up with you and I'l willing to pay all the money in the world."
You smile at her words, they make you calm down and panic a little less. You wished you could get an extension but Regina knew you could do it, she knew you were talented and you could do anything if you put your mind to it.
After school the two of you rushed outside and when in her car, she drove to the art shop and you got everything that you needed, new brushes, a canvas, a canvas stand, paints, and all the other things that would make your artwork stand out from everyone else in the class.
The total ended up being over $300, Regina didn't seem to mind paying that much but you weren't going to let it go to waste. When you go to her house you set up everything straight away and began putting your full focus on that, Regina didn't want to disturb you so she went up to your room while you painted, a few hours passed and you still haven't moved from your spot, Regina came down and started to make you some dinner.
She saw that your artwork was coming along, you still had a while to go but you were doing really well for the time limited amount of time you had, she pulled you away and made you have a break while you ate your dinner, you didn't want to waste any time so you ate your food quickly and went back to painting your picture, This time Regina stayed with you, making sure that you didn't stay up too late.
It was 12am, you were staring to yawn and the artwork was almost finished, Regina came up behind you, "Babe, It's time for bed." You shook your head, determined to finish the artwork, "No.." you yawned, "I have to finish this.." Regina pulled you away and you didn't pull back this time, you still had another day and you were nearly finished so you didn't seem to mind.
The next morning, you get up early, way before Regina gets up. You start finalising your artwork, making sure that everything is done. "How long have you been up for?" A voice says, breaking the long silence. "Since 5am." Regina sighs, she sees that your artwork is finally done and it looks amazing!
You let it dry for the whole day, feeling confident about bringing it into class and showing whoever did this to your other artwork that you can get a better mark than them even though they tried to set you up. You walked into class and as soon as you sat down the principal walked in and asked you to come to the office. The whole class turned to look at you, saying "ooooo"
You rolled your eyes and got up and walked to the office with her, when you got there, you saw Janis and Damien sitting there, looking guilty, you walked in looking confused. "We found out that these are the people who ruined your artwork."
You looked at them and all the years you spent together had all gone to waste, you didn't even let them say a thing, you ran out and headed to the oval, you ran into someone, you looked up and thankfully it's your girlfriend. "Baby? What's wrong?" She asks, pulling you in for a hug. "J-Janis and Damien were the ones who ruined my artwork."
"Oh baby." She hugged you tighter as she thought of payback, but then she looked back at you and realised that she doesn't need to get those pathetic losers back. You redid your artwork and she knows that Janis and Damien will get the punishment they deserve. (She will definitely be getting them back)
Regina took you back to her place straight after, you were really hurt with what the the people you called your friends did to you, Regina knew how sad you were and how hurt you were, she comforted you, cuddling you close on her big bed, she would whisper sweet words into your ear, playing with your hair.
You had stopped crying after a while, Regina noticed your body to feel lighter and more relaxed, she looked at your face and smiled brightly to see that you were fast asleep, she quickly got up and set up a movie night for the two of you, downstairs, she made her mom cook dinner because she doesn't know how to cook.
While her mom was cooking she sat down on the bench and looked up pranks, but not one of them was good enough revenge for what Janis and Damien did.
"Mom.." She mumbled, getting her attention, her mom looked up, "Yes honey." Her mom said, Regina took a deep sigh before asking, "If someone who you love friends did something really bad to them, would you want to get revenge?" She looks at her daughter, rolling her eyes, "No."
Regina rolls her eyes back, "We think the opposite, are you sure I wasn't switched at birth?" Her mum giggles, continuing to scroll through her phone, still not being able to find anything that seems worth wasting her time on.
She hears light feet walk down the stairs, she smiles brightly, running up to you rubbing your eyes, you're still slightly tired but you feel much better then when you did before. "Baby, change into this shirt and tracksuit pants! We can be matching and post cute Instagram pictures." You smile brightly and jump up, wrapping your legs around her waist, she can't help but smile at your cuteness.
She carries you into the living room, the both of you change into the matching outfits, she takes a few photos of you and you take a few photos of her, and a few selfies together, she smiles as she choses her favourite ones to post to Instagram, putting a cute caption, she gets so many likes as soon as she clicks post, it's still shocking to you. The two of you sat on the couch, you were sitting between her legs, back against her front, arms wrapped tightly around your waist.
Minutes later, Regina's mom comes out with dinner, the two of you eat while picking a movie, deciding on a cheesy rom-com. "Regina! Your dad and I are going out, I can trust you to not burn the house down?" Regina nods, rolling her eyes.
As soon as the door closes, Regina starts kissing your neck, leaving dark spots all over, her arms go inside your shirt and grab your breasts, giving them a tight squeeze making you let out a loud moan, she smirks, giving you small kisses on the back of your neck, she hears your whimpers and whines and she knows that you want her, which only makes her want you more, she flips the two of you around, so you lying down on the couch and she's hovering over you. "Are we doing this?"
You nod smiling, taking your shirt off, allowing her to kiss your breasts, leaving more dark spots, she sticks her tongue  out and licks in between your breast, all the way back up to your lips, repositioning herself so now she's stranding your hips, she kisses you again, this time more slow and sloppy, when you pull away, strings of saliva fall down slowly after.
Regina's hands slowly go down and inside your tracksuit pants, she tickles your inner thighs, making you squirm, she looks down and see's that you're hating the teasing she's doing. "You want this?" She asks, kissing your forehead. You nod, not being able to even think of words at this point in time. She shakes her head, unsatisfied with your answer, "Words baby." You glared into her eyes, "Yes. I want it."
She pulled her hand out of your tracksuit pants, leaving you a little confused, she repositioned herself again so she was sat up right on the couch, leaning back, arm resting on the arm rest beside her, "Then earn it." She said, clicking her fingers, pointing to the floor in front of her, you were still confused, Regina laughed at how clueless  you were- she found it so cute. "Get on your knees."
You nodded and quickly rushed to get on your knees in front of her, she spread her legs and took her tracksuits pants off, carelessly throwing them somewhere. You stared up at the breath taking goddess, not wanting to do anything without her permission. She took her panties off and you were surprised by how wet she already was, the scene only made you more wet and you had to rub your thighs to allow some friction in between your legs. "Come on, don't make mommy wait." She said, gripping your hair, shoving you into her pussy.
You liked her clit, making Regina let out a loud moan, she gripped your hair tighter, shoving you further in, you shoved her tongue inside her, she let out another loud moan, gripping your hair up so you can look into your eyes, she stared down into your eyes, smirking at how submissive your eyes looked. You moved your tongue around, making Regina moan louder, she knew she was close, "Fuck baby, I'm gonna come."
You don't stop, you continue to give your girlfriend pleasure, she moans loudly and started grinding on your face, seconds later, she releases all over your face, your still on your knees and Regina is breathing heavily from the pleasure, once she catches her breath, she leans down, holding her finger under your chin to make you look up at her. "You did so good." she pats the couch next to her, telling you to lie down. You do as you told and lie down next to her.
She pulls your pants off, "Wait here." She says in a firm voice, going somewhere, she comes back with a blindfold and something behind her back, she puts the blindfold on your, you can't see anything but the little bit of light that was coming in the room. You heard clicking you were a little confused, a few seconds later you felt more weight added to the couch and a firm grip on your legs.
"I'm going to put your legs over my shoulders." She said, she wasn't asking, she pulled them over your shoulders and you felt the tip of her strap touch your entrance, you moaned slightly, you covered your mouth, she groaned and leaned forward, taking off the hand and your blindfold, staring into your eyes, you stared down and saw how big the strap was. "Regina.. It's to big."
Regina just laughs, kissing your lips, "I'll make it fit," She says, sitting back up, "And it's mommy." She corrects, she a lines the tip up with your entrance and with one forceful thrust she shoves it in, hitting your g-spot right away, you moaned loudly, she kept on thrusting inside you, kissing your lips to block out your loud moans, the room filled with kisses and wet sounds, you gasp at how good she makes you feel, "M-mommy. I'm gonna cum."
She hums in satisfaction, "Cum baby, Cum on my cock." She whispers in your ear, sucking on the area around it. You finally release, all over the strap, she pulls it out and takes it off, laying down next to you, pulling you in for a hug, she played with your hair and calmed you down from your heavy breathing.
"Baby, do you want to take a bath." Regina asks, kissing Your forehead. You nodded your head and she picked you up, taking care of you.
When you feel asleep she got out of bed and thought of the perfect plan on how to get Janis and Damien back.
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kentobb · 4 months ago
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The Bet (Part Seven)
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Characters: College! Sukuna x Female Reader
Genre: Angst
Warnings: *Sigh* Pure Angst, Jealousy, Alcohol, Mentions of Drunk people?, Foul Language, Suggestive, Smut (Theres not but theres a suggestive part so…might as well categorized it like that), etc.
Author’s Note: I know I said that I will see you guys in a few days. But I was in my break in the airplane and wrote this piece of art. 🩷 Next chapter in a few days. But let me know what you think is going to happened next :)
Part 01
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Days passed, and everything seemed to spiral further into despair for Sukuna. He had tried calling you countless times, but each attempt was met with the same automated message: "Sorry, the person you're calling is not available. Please leave a message after the beep."
"Hey, it's me again…please, call me back. Let’s talk.” Sukuna's voice broke as he left yet another voicemail, the pain evident in his words. But there was no response. His text messages, too, were left on "delivered," never receiving a reply.
He clutched the heart locket you had returned to him in such pain, now worn around his own neck, a constant reminder of the love he had lost. Each day without you felt like an eternity, and the absence of your presence in his life was a gaping void that consumed him.
What hurt the most was that you hadn’t been attending class for the past week. He looked for you everywhere—your usual seat in the lecture hall, the library corner where you loved to study—but you were nowhere to be found. The halls felt emptier without you, and summer break loomed just around the corner, only amplifying his sense of urgency and despair.
His brothers had tried their best to comfort him. They sat with him, talked to him, tried to distract him with jokes and stories. But it was useless. Sukuna's mind was consumed with thoughts of you, replaying every moment you had shared, every word he wished he could take back.
Yuuji walked into Sukuna's room one evening, finding him sitting on his bed, staring at his phone. "Hey, any luck?" Yuuji asked, though he already knew the answer.
Sukuna shook his head, his eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and frustration. "No. She’s not answering. I don't know what to do.”
Yuuji sat beside him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You just have to give her time, Sukuna. She needs to process everything.”
"But what if she never forgives me? What if I've lost her forever?" Sukuna's voice was barely a whisper, his fear palpable.
Choso joined them, leaning against the doorframe. "You haven't lost her yet. Just keep trying, keep showing her that you care. She'll come around."
Sukuna nodded, though his heart felt heavy. "I hope you're right."
Days turned into nights, each one blending into the next in a blur of unanswered calls and unspoken words. Sukuna spent his time going through the motions, attending practice, going to class, but his mind was always elsewhere. He found himself constantly touching the locket around his neck, seeking solace in its presence.
Summer break was only a weekend away, and the impending separation from the campus only added to his anxiety. He feared that the distance would only widen the gap between them, making it even harder to reach you.
One evening, as he sat alone in his room, Sukuna decided to leave one more message. "Hey, it's me. I just wanted to say I'm sorry again. I miss you so much. Please, call me back when you can. I love you."
He hung up, feeling the familiar ache in his chest. He lay back on his bed, staring at the ceiling, the silence of his room echoing his loneliness.
His brothers found him there, a picture of heartbreak. They exchanged worried glances, unsure of how to help him. Yuuji sat beside him, while Choso leaned against the wall, both trying to offer their silent support.
"We're here for you, Sukuna," Yuuji said softly. "No matter what happens."
Sukuna nodded, his throat tight with emotion. "Thanks," he whispered, though he couldn't shake the overwhelming sadness that clung to him.
As the days crept closer to summer break, the weight of your absence grew heavier. Sukuna knew he had to find a way to make things right, but he felt lost, unsure of how to bridge the chasm that had formed between you.
He held onto the hope that you would eventually hear his messages, read his texts, and remember the love you had shared. Until then, he would keep trying, keep waiting, and keep believing that somehow, you could find the way back to each other.
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One evening, just as he was about to send yet another unanswered message, there was a knock on his door. Sukuna hesitated, his heart pounding with a mix of hope and fear. When he opened the door, he found Gojo standing there, looking uncertain and hesitant.
"Sukuna," Gojo began, his voice wavering slightly. "Can I come in?”
For a moment, Sukuna stood still, his emotions swirling. He didn't know if he was mad at Gojo for telling Mei Mei, or if he was mad at the situation itself. But then he saw the genuine worry and regret in Gojo's eyes, and he managed a soft, weary smile. "Yeah, come in."
Gojo stepped inside, his usual confident demeanor replaced with a rare vulnerability. He sat down, fidgeting nervously. "Look, I just... I wanted to say I'm sorry. I messed up. I shouldn't have said anything to Mei Mei. I didn't think—"
Sukuna held up a hand, stopping him. "Don’t. It’s okay.”
Gojo's eyes widened in surprise. "You're not mad at me?"
Sukuna shook his head. "No, I'm not mad at you. I’m just... tired. Tired of everything. It was my fault too…”
Gojo's shoulders sagged with relief, but the guilt still lingered in his eyes. "I really am sorry, Sukuna. I never wanted to hurt you. You're my best friend."
Sukuna nodded, feeling a tightness in his chest. "I know, Gojo. I know. It's just been really hard."
There was a heavy silence between them, filled with unspoken words and shared pain. Finally, Gojo cleared his throat. "Look, I know this might not be the best time, but I think you need a break. Mahito's throwing a summer break party, and I think you should come."
Sukuna frowned, shaking his head. "I don't think that's a good idea. I don't feel like partying."
Gojo leaned forward, his eyes pleading. "Just think about it, okay? You need a distraction, something to take your mind off things, even if it's just for a little while."
Sukuna sighed, running a hand through his hair. The thought of going to a party felt overwhelming, but he couldn't deny that he needed to escape his own thoughts, if only for a few hours. "I don't know, Gojo..."
"Please," Gojo insisted, his voice softening. "Just give it a try. You don't have to stay long. Just come and see if it helps. You can't keep torturing yourself like this."
Sukuna hesitated, but the look in Gojo's eyes, filled with genuine concern and friendship, swayed him. He nodded slowly. "Just for a little while."
A smile broke out on Gojo's face, a mix of relief and hope. "That's all I ask. Thanks, bro."
As they prepared to leave for the party, Sukuna felt a small flicker of something he hadn't felt in days—a glimmer of hope. He knew that it wouldn't solve everything, but maybe, just maybe, it would help him start to heal.
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Sukuna arrived at Mahito’s party, the pulsating music and thrumming energy immediately overwhelming his senses. The house was packed with people, bodies dancing against each other, the air thick with the scent of sweat and alcohol. He made his way to one of the sofas where his teammates were lounging, drinking and laughing. Yuuji and Choso were already there, engaged in animated conversation.
Sukuna plopped down on the sofa, grabbing a drink from the table in front of him. As he took a sip, he noticed several of his teammates with their girlfriends, their laughter and affectionate touches reminding him painfully of what he had lost. He felt a pang of hurt, wishing you were there with him, remembering how it felt to have you by his side.
As the night wore on and the drinks flowed, Sukuna found his gaze wandering toward the door. He watched idly as new arrivals trickled in, but then his heart nearly stopped when he saw who walked in.
First, there was a girl with fiery orange hair, wearing a stylish outfit that accentuated her bold personality—Nobara. She exuded confidence, her eyes scanning the room with an assertive gaze. Beside her was a tall, brooding figure with dark, messy hair—Megumi. His demeanor was quiet and reserved, yet there was a certain intensity in his eyes.
But it was the third person who made Sukuna’s breath catch in his throat. It was you.
His eyes widened, and his heart pounded in his chest. What are you doing here? This… this isn’t the place for you. Why would you be here?
You wore a stunning red dress that hugged your curves, the short hemline showing off your legs, and the neckline revealing just enough to make his mouth go dry. Your makeup was flawless, enhancing your natural beauty, and your hair was styled elegantly. You carried a small red purse, completing the look.
Sukuna could hardly believe his eyes. He had never seen you like this. You looked scared, nervous at your surroundings.
As you walked in, people turned to look at you, some even whistling appreciatively. Sukuna felt a surge of jealousy and protectiveness. He didn’t like the way others were looking at you, the way they seemed to undress you with their eyes.
You hadn’t noticed him yet, your attention focused on Nobara and Megumi as they led you toward the mini bar. Sukuna shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his eyes never leaving yours.
Nobara, with her usual flair, seemed to be showing you the ropes, gesturing animatedly as she explained the different drinks. Sukuna’s mind raced. He knew you had never drunk alcohol in your life. This was all new to you, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that you were out of place, that you didn’t belong in this chaotic environment.
As he watched you, he felt a mix of emotions—jealousy, worry, longing. He wanted to protect you, to pull you away from the prying eyes and the potentially harmful influences. But he also knew he had no right to do so, not after what had happened.
Sukuna's eyes followed your every move, noting the way you hesitated before accepting a drink from Nobara, your expression a mix of curiosity and apprehension. He wanted to rush over, to tell you that you didn’t have to do this, but he stayed rooted to his seat, torn between his desire to see you and his fear of making things worse.
His teammates continued their banter, oblivious to his inner turmoil. Gojo, noticing his distracted state, leaned over and followed his gaze. “Isn’t that…?” Gojo trailed off, his eyes widening in realization.
“Yeah,” Sukuna replied, his voice tight. “It’s her.”
Gojo glanced back at Sukuna, his expression concerned. “What are you going to do?”
Sukuna didn’t answer immediately. He watched as you took a tentative sip of your drink, your face scrunching up at the unfamiliar taste. Nobara laughed, patting your on the back, while Megumi watched with an amused smirk.
Summoning his courage, Sukuna stood up and began to walk towards you. Nobara, sensing his approach, quickly stepped in front of you, blocking his path.
“She doesn’t want to speak to you,” Nobara said firmly, crossing her arms over her chest.
Sukuna's eyes narrowed slightly, but he kept his voice steady. “Who are you?”
Nobara glared at him, her stance protective. “She’s not your girlfriend anymore, Sukuna.”
Ignoring Nobara's words, Sukuna took another step closer, his determination unwavering. Just then, Megumi stepped in, his presence imposing. “You heard her. Back off,” Megumi said, trying to intimidate Sukuna.
Sukuna glanced at Megumi, a small, defiant smirk forming on his lips. “Nice hair, douchebag. Does it come with instructions?”
Megumi's eyes flashed with annoyance, but before he could retort, you spoke up, your voice cutting through the tension. “It’s okay.”
Nobara and Megumi exchanged worried glances, but reluctantly stepped aside, giving Sukuna the space to approach you. You looked at him, your eyes filled with a mix of emotions—anger, hurt, and something else he couldn’t quite place.
Sukuna took a deep breath, his heart pounding in his chest. “I know you don’t want to talk to me.”
You glanced back at Nobara and Megumi, who gave you encouraging nods before moving a little farther away, giving you some privacy while still keeping a watchful eye.
“Oh wow” you said finally, your voice steady but guarded. “Did you figure that by yourself?”
The tension between you was palpable, and Sukuna struggled to keep his emotions in check. He couldn't believe you were here, dressed so beautifully, yet so different from the girl he had known. It was as if you had transformed overnight, and it hurt to see you this way—so distant and angry.
"Why are you here?" Sukuna asked, his voice edged with frustration. "This isn’t your scene."
You met his gaze defiantly, your eyes flashing with determination. "Isn’t that obvious? I came here to have fun.”
His eyes widened in disbelief. "To have fun? This isn't like you. You don’t need to change yourself to fit in here."
You scoffed, shaking your head. "You don’t know me. You’re just some dude who got into my pants for what? A hundred bucks? Turns out I don’t know you either.”
As you turned to walk away, Sukuna instinctively reached out and grabbed your hand, trying to hold you back. "You do know me. And I know you. And I know that this… isn’t you.”
You yanked your arm away, your eyes cold and unyielding. “Fuck you, Sukuna.”
He looked at you angrily, his grip tightening for a moment before he let you go. "Fine," he said through gritted teeth. "Go ahead and have your fun."
“Oh I will, just watch closely.” You turned your back on him, joining Nobara and Megumi, who had been watching the exchange with wary eyes. The party around you started to intensify, the music growing louder, the crowd more energetic. A popular song blasted through the speakers, and everyone began to dance.
Sukuna stood back, watching as you moved to the rhythm with Nobara. He saw you taking shot after shot, your laughter ringing out as you lost yourself in the moment. It was clear you were trying to drown out the pain, but it only made Sukuna more anxious. He didn’t touch a drop of alcohol, too focused on keeping an eye on you.
His anger simmered as he watched you, feeling helpless. This wasn’t you, he thought. This wasn’t the girl he fell in love with. You were trying to become someone else, someone he knew you wasn’t.
The party continued, and a group of boys from the soccer team entered, their presence adding to the already chaotic atmosphere. Among them was Ino, the team captain. Sukuna recognized him immediately—Ino was known for his charm and confidence, a guy who could have any girl he wanted.
Ino’s eyes landed on you, and Sukuna saw him asking around about you. His jaw clenched as he overheard bits of their conversation.
"Who’s she?" Ino asked one of his teammates, nodding in your direction. "I’ve never seen her before."
"Not sure," the teammate replied. "But damn, she’s hot. Definitely new."
Sukuna’s grip tightened on his drink, the plastic cup crumpling in his hand. He wanted to march over there, to tell Ino to back off, but he knew it would only make things worse.
Ino watched you make your way to the bar, probably asking for more shots for yourself and Nobara. His interest piqued, he took his own shot, quickly following you. Meanwhile, Sukuna stood at a distance, trying to control the storm of jealousy and anger brewing inside him. He kept his eyes fixed on you and Ino, his fists clenched tightly.
As Ino reached the bar, he slid up next to you with a charming smile. "Hey there," he said smoothly. "I don't think I've seen you around before. What's your name?"
You turned to him, your eyes sparkling with a mix of amusement and alcohol. "This is my first party," you replied with a giggle.
Ino raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Your first party, huh? Well, you’re definitely making an impression."
You laughed, leaning in a bit closer. “Well, I hope so.” You said, your thoughts filled with alcohol.
Ino grinned, enjoying the attention. "Well, you’ve got the right idea. I’m Ino, by the way."
You smiled, eyes darting to where Sukuna stood, watching him intently. You saw the anger simmering in his gaze, and a mischievous glint appeared in your eyes. You wanted to provoke him, to make him react. You leaned in closer to Ino, whispering something in his ear that made him blush.
Sukuna saw this and felt his control slipping. He couldn't just stand there and watch you flirt with some guy. His jealousy and anger reached a boiling point, and he marched over to the bar, his eyes locked on you.
"Hey, what do you think you’re doing?" Sukuna demanded, his voice low and dangerous.
Ino turned to face him, a smirk playing on his lips. "Just having a conversation. Is that a problem, bro?"
You looked at Sukuna, your expression challenging. "We're just talking, Sukuna. Or do you have a problem with that?"
Sukuna’s jaw tightened. "Yeah, I do have a problem. I don't like seeing my girl flirt with some random guy."
Ino raised his hands in mock surrender, his grin widening. "Whoa, whoa. I didn’t know she was your girl. She didn’t mention anything about having a boyfriend."
You crossed your arms, leaning against the bar. "That's because I don’t. We’re not together anymore, remember? I would bet a hundred bucks that you do remember that.”
Sukuna took a step closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “We may not be together right now, but that doesn’t mean I’m just going to stand by and watch this."
Ino chuckled, clearly enjoying the tension. "Looks like you’ve got some competition, Sukuna. Maybe you should step up your game."
Sukuna’s eyes flashed with anger. "Back off, Ino. This isn’t a game."
Ino shrugged, clearly unbothered. "Whatever you say, man. But from where I’m standing, it looks like she’s having a good time without you, am I right princess?”
Sukuna's anger boiled over as he squared off with Ino. "Back off now, or I swear, I'll punch you," Sukuna threatened, his voice low and menacing.
Ino smirked, clearly unfazed. "You think you can intimidate me? Bring it on, man."
Their argument escalated, voices rising above the din of the party. You rolled your eyes at their macho display and decided to walk away, leaving the two boys to their petty fight. You made your way back to Nobara, who was already at the bar, affected by the alcohol as well.
Sukuna saw you leave, realizing what you successfully did, his anger boiling, he quickly turned away from Ino. Who cursed under his breath as Sukuna left him talking to himself, feeling the sting of being ignored.
At the bar, you started taking shots one after another, trying to drown your feelings in alcohol. The music thumped through your body, the lights blurring together as you downed another shot. Your head felt light, limbs heavy, and your vision wavered. You felt a strange mixture of euphoria and disorientation, the world spinning around you in a dizzying dance.
Everything felt distant, like you were floating. You laughed more freely, but there was a desperation to it, a need to escape the pain that lingered in your heart. You leaned on the bar for support, your mind foggy and your thoughts jumbled. You didn’t realize just how drunk you were, caught up in the haze of alcohol.
Sukuna watched you from across the room, his concern growing with every shot you took. He knew you were pushing yourself too far, and he couldn't stand by any longer. He made his way over to you, his heart pounding with worry.
"It's time to leave," Sukuna said firmly, his grip on your arm gentle but unyielding.
You tried to pull away from his grip, your movements sluggish and uncoordinated. "No, I’m having fun. Let me go.”
Sukuna tightened his grip slightly, ensuring you couldn’t slip away. "You're drunk. You need to go home."
You stumbled, your balance unsteady. "I’m fine, let me go!" You slurred, your eyes struggling to focus on him.
Sukuna looked around for help and spotted Choso nearby. "Choso! I need your help," he called out.
Choso quickly made his way over, his concern evident. "What’s up?"
"Help me get Nobara. She’s drunk too," Sukuna said, nodding toward Nobara, who was barely standing.
Choso nodded and went to help Nobara, who leaned heavily on him, giggling uncontrollably. Sukuna kept a firm hold on you, guiding you carefully through the crowd. He searched for Yuuji, needing his help to manage the situation, but Yuuji was nowhere to be found.
Sukuna and Choso managed to get you and Nobara to his car. He gently placed you in the passenger seat, where you immediately fell asleep, head lolling against the window. Choso helped Nobara into the backseat, where she too quickly succumbed to sleep.
"Where the hell is Yuuji?" Sukuna muttered, frustration evident in his voice.
"Let’s look for him quickly," Choso suggested, scanning the crowd.
They headed back into the party, looking for any sign of Yuuji. Sukuna opened one of the doors, and his eyes widened at the sight of Yuuji and Megumi making out passionately. Neither of them noticed Sukuna, too wrapped up in each other.
Sukuna backed out quietly, closing the door behind him. He returned to Choso, shaking his head. "I couldn’t find him," he lied, unwilling to expose his brother's private moment.
Choso sighed. "Alright, let’s get them back to the dorm. I’ll text Yuuji and let him know."
They returned to the car, and Choso pulled out his phone, quickly typing a message to Yuuji: "We’re heading back to the dorm. Everyone’s safe. See you later."
Sukuna started the car and began the drive back to the dorms, the weight of the night pressing heavily on him. He glanced at your sleeping form beside him, his heart aching with regret and worry. He hoped that once you sobered up, you could talk properly, and he could begin to mend the rift between you.
Choso stayed silent during the ride, sensing Sukuna’s turmoil. The streets were quiet, the night air cool and soothing. When they finally reached the dorms, Sukuna parked and carefully carried you inside of his dorm, with Choso doing the same for Nobara.
Choso gently laid Nobara down on the sofa, tucking a blanket around her to keep her warm. He glanced over at Sukuna, who was carefully carrying you to his bed. Sukuna placed you down gently, pulling the blanket over you and brushing a strand of hair from your face.
Choso looked back at Nobara, shaking his head slightly. “Yuuji still isn’t answering,” he said, a hint of worry in his voice.
Sukuna smirked, trying to lighten the mood. “He was kind of busy,” he said teasingly.
Choso frowned in confusion but then shrugged it off, too tired to ask for clarification. He put a glass of water and some ibuprofen on the coffee table for Nobara for when she woke up. “She’s going to need this in the morning,” he muttered.
Sukuna nodded, grateful for his brother’s thoughtfulness. “Thanks, Choso.”
With a sigh, Sukuna made his way back to his room, pausing at the doorway. He saw you sitting up in his bed, looking around the room with bleary eyes. You were clearly still drunk, your movements unsteady.
“Go back to sleep,” Sukuna said softly, his voice filled with concern.
You didn’t listen, your gaze finally landing on him. “Kuna,” you whispered, using the nickname you had given him. The sound of it melted his heart, bringing back a flood of memories.
You stood up, wobbling slightly, and walked toward him. Despite your drunken state, he could see the pain in your eyes, the hurt you were trying to drown out with alcohol. You reached him and began pushing him angrily, your fists hitting his chest.
Sukuna stood still, letting you vent your anger. He didn’t move an inch, your punches not having any effect, but knowing you needed to get it out. You were stronger than you looked, but not enough to physically hurt him. But he deserved anything you threw at him.
“You hurt me,” you cried, your voice breaking. “You broke my heart.” You punched again, “You used me!”
“I know,” he whispered, his own eyes filling with tears. “I’m so sorry.”
You continued to hit him, your punches growing weaker as you started to sob. Sukuna finally reached out, pulling you into a tight embrace. You struggled at first, but then collapsed against him, your sobs shaking your small frame.
“I’m so sorry,” Sukuna repeated, holding you close. “I never meant to hurt you.”
You looked up at him, tears streaming down your face. Your eyes were filled with so much pain, it broke his heart all over again. And then, without warning, you kissed him. Your lips were desperate and passionate, and Sukuna couldn’t help but kiss you back.
For a moment, everything else faded away. It was just the two of you, locked in a kiss that was both familiar and new. But then he felt your hands toying with the belt of his pants, and he knew what you were trying to do. He gently grabbed your wrists, stopping you.
“Hey,” he said softly, pulling back slightly and feeling the alcohol on your lips. “You’re drunk. You’re not conscious.”
You began to cry again, burying your face in his chest. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I just… I miss you so much.”
“I miss you too,” he said, his voice choked with emotion.
He guided you back to the bed, laying you down gently. You clung to him, your tears soaking his shirt. Sukuna climbed in beside you, pulling you close. He began to caress your hair, his touch soothing.
“Shh,” he whispered. “It’s okay. I’m here. Just sleep.”
You rested your head on his chest, your breathing slowly evening out as you drifted off to sleep in your drunken state. Sukuna continued to stroke your hair, his heart aching. He had missed this—holding you, comforting you, being close to you.
As you slept, Sukuna thought about everything that had happened. The bet, the breakup, the pain he had caused you. He knew he had a long road ahead if he wanted to earn your trust back, but he was determined to do it. He loves you, and he would do whatever it took to make things right.
But he just hopes that when you wake up tomorrow, you still miss him.
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Comments, notes and reblogs are appreciated <3
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renthony · 1 year ago
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I wish people would give authors of original fiction the same update grace time they give authors of fanfiction.
A fanfic author says, "sorry I haven't posted much over the past couple years, I've been dealing with severe depression and fatigue," and most people are like, "you poor thing, you're so valid, take your time." Like, yeah, there are jerks, but I see so many posts telling people not to harass fanfic authors over long update times. It seems to be generally accepted that asking "omg when is the next update?!" is rude to do to a fanfic author.
This never seems to be true about original fiction. People constantly bitch that their favorite trad pubbed author is "taking too long" with their next book. George R.R. Martin went on record last year to say that people making "lol he'll die before the next book comes out" jokes make him super uncomfortable, and that's just one example off the top of my head. I've seen similar crappy things said to countless other, less-well-known authors. I've had people ask me "when" -- not IF, but WHEN -- my next book will be finished, regardless of whether I've said I'm even working on something. It sucks.
Y'all know that OC is also hard to write when you're depressed, fatigued, and dealing with the capitalist hellscape, right? Even when it's your main job, writing is fucking hard. Sometimes it feels like people think you only have human limits when you're an amateur artist, and the second you do it for pay, you must get some kind of superpower that negates all your disability, stress, fatigue, and chaotic life events that take time and energy away from creative work.
But it doesn't. It really, really fucking doesn't. I wish I could make art on the timeline people seem to expect, but I just fucking can't, okay?
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