#it doesn't do as well as my other pieces do-

[mrsstarkey1]

getting rafe hooked on dress to impress

my fav thing i’ve ever written i can’t even lie

word count: 1.2k

obx masterlist

you yawned loudly and abnoxiously as you walked into rafe’s bedroom. you kicked your shoes off, grabbing one of rafe’s t-shirts from his drawer, changing out of your uncomfortable clothes. “didn’t think you were coming back, it’s late as fuck.�� rafe said, looking at you oddly as he sat up on the bed against the headboard.

“longest fucking day of my life. need to unwind.”

rafe smirked, reaching his whole body over the bed to grab your forearm. "like the sound of that," he mumbles.

you let yourself move toward him, but you groan, “not like that.” rafe momentarily pouts, but doesn’t let go of your arm. in fact, he pulls you closer onto the bed with him urging you to cuddle up into him.

he snakes his arm around you, soft fingers tracing circles into your side. "wanna talk about it?"

you yawn and shake your head, "nah, can we just watch a movie or something?"

rafe nods, grabbing the TV remote from the nightstand. "you don't wanna watch some chick-flick do you?" he asks, grimacing already.

you sigh dramatically, “i guess not. fast and furious?”

rafe obligies, satisfied with your suggestion. you get comfortable on the bed, your head rested on rafe's shoulder and your phone rested on his chest as you scroll through tiktok.

about 20 minutes later, you see a video about the new halloween update on dress to impress and gasp before you can stop yourself. rafe jumps slightly, eyes wide. “jesus christ, what’s wrong?”

"sorry, nothing," you grin apologetically, "can I borrow your laptop though?"

he looks at you like you've lost your mind, but he still grabs his macbook from the nightstand, handing it over to you. you sit up excitedly, leaning up against the headboard.

you open the laptop and sign into your roblox account, side eyeing rafe as he gives you an odd look. "the fuck are you doing?"

"playing a game," you respond innocently.

he raises his eyebrows, "roblox? wheezie used to play that shit.. when she was 8," he says, judging you hardcore.

you glare at him, "you don't understand," you sigh. "just watch me play, it's genuinely fun."

he watches you click on dress to impress, making a disgusted face. "yeah I can't defend you on this one," he says and you shove his shoulder.

"well have you ever played dress to impress?" you ask him.

"obviously not," he says, his sassy side on full display.

"well don't judge then. just watch and i'll let you play a round when i'm done," you say with a smile, patting his cheek softly.

"hell nah," he says, directing his attention back to the movie.

you shake your head, giving up on getting him to play. you start a round, looking around at all the new pieces they added. the theme is holiday for your first round, so of course you do halloween.

you notice rafe's eyes on the computer screen as his curiosity clearly starts to creep back in despite himself. he watches as you piece together combination of a witch hat, spiderweb dress, and dark boots.

“what even is this shit?” he asks, trying to sound nonchalant but clearly intrigued.

you grin, not taking your eyes off the screen since you only have a minute left. “you compete with other people to make the best outfit based on a theme. you'd be pretty good at it, you've got great style," you say, trying to persuade him.

he gives you a look, shaking his head, "sounds dumb as fuck," he says, and you just laugh. he's silent for a moment before turning slightly to have a better view of the screen, "so what you just like... dress them up and shit?"

you nod, watching the time run out. "yes, then everyone votes on each outfit and the top 3 get on the podium. see," you point to the screen, "the voting's starting now."

an outfit that's completely off theme struts down the runway and you grimace, "see like that one's ugly as fuck so i give it a 1. oooh look, this ones mine," you say with a proud smile. "doesn't she look great?"

rafe shrugs, "i guess."

you ended up getting third place, losing to two terrible outfits. you curse under your breath, before turning to him. “you wanna try a round?” you smile, looking up at him.

rafe scoffs, glancing back at the movie, but curiosity gets the better of him. “alright, fine, hand it over.” he takes the laptop.

"okay the theme is beach day," you tell him.

he hums in response, looking around at the clothes aimlessly. "rafe, you gotta pick something that actually matches,” you say, stifling a laugh as he pairs a yellow bikini top with neon green shorts.

"shh, I have a vision," he says, dismissing your words. "wait why the fuck doesn't she have a face?"

"you gotta go to the makeup and hair room, over there," you point at the screen.

he scrolls through the makeup options, finally decided on one. "mhm, she bad ain't she?" you chuckle, knowing rafe is secretly loving this.

time runs out just as he adds the coconut drink, and you see him watching the screen eagerly, waiting for the voting to end. one girl dressed in long pants and a jacket walks out and he looks over at you, disgusted, "this bitch didn't even look at the theme." all you can do is laugh and nod your head in agreement.

when rafe places second, he smirks, looking way too pleased with himself. "ha," he says, "i did better than you."

you roll your eyes. "yeah you're done playing," you say, snatching the laptop back.

the next night, you texted rafe that you were gonna come over after your morning shift and you didn't get a response, which was odd. you let yourself into his house with the key he'd given you. "rafe?" you called out, walking into the living room. "you here?" no response.

you furrowed your eyebrows, walking up the stairs. maybe he was just in his room, you thought, taking a nap or something. you creak open his bedroom door, met with the scene of him sitting on his bed, looking intently at his laptop.

his eyes shoot up to look at you and he slams his laptop closed, guilty look in his eye. you raise your eyebrows, "what were you doing?" you question him, walking toward the bed.

he rubs the back of his neck with his hand, shaking his head. "nothin.'"

your eyes narrow, "were you watching porn?" you joke, sitting down next to him.

he sighs, "worse.." he trails off. he mentally debates for a minute, before pulling his laptop back into his lap, opening it slowly to reveal dress to impress on full display.

your hand shoots to cover your mouth, laugh escaping your lips anyway. all he does is glare at you, "this is your fucking fault."

you lean into him with a laugh, "I know I know, sorry. don't be embarrassed, rafe." you press a kiss to his lips.

as you kiss him, you can’t help but laugh again, glancing at his screen. "okay wait that's actually a cute outfit. you're getting good," you nudge him, "fashionista," you add quietly with a chuckle.

he looks at you straight-faced, "I'm only playing this dumbass game because you dragged me into it. i was just bored so,” he gestures to the screen.

“sure, rafe, whatever you say,” you tease, cuddling up beside him. "feel free to keep playing, don't stop at my expense."

he scoffs, but gives in and restarts the game.

you wrap your arm around his middle and watch as he puts together outfit after outfit, the grin rarely leaving your face.

you just love your little fashionista.

----

requests are OPEN 💌

[caxycreations]

I feel like you guys are missing the point.

He's a 900+ year old Time Lord. He's living as much as he possibly can, and he feels like it's nowhere near enough, and far too much, all at the same time.

This SAME MAN, same face and all, is the person who said "Sometimes I think a Time Lord lives too long"

He's the man who, literally in his NEXT regeneration, spends a third of his series depressed because he can't find an ounce of joy in the universe himself and NEEDS humans to show around so he can catch a hint of it through them.

The Doctor even states that humans "look like giants" to him, specifically BECAUSE of the fact that they live so much in such a short time.

This isn't a show about an awesome, nigh-immortal time-traveling alien.

It's a show about the pains and soul-crushing responsibilities that come with time travel and immortality.

And, of course, you're all forgetting the glaring fact of this episode, entirely separate from the quotes you're so eagerly judging:

THE MAN THE DOCTOR IS TALKING TO HAS TO EAT PEOPLE TO STAY YOUNG.

He literally KILLS PEOPLE to survive. The Doctor, talking him out of eternal life, is not just doing so because "long life bad", he's doing so because "eating people to live forever is an awful way to be" as well.

You're also disregarding his point entirely in favor of giving bad-faith analysis of the show.

His point is that whether you have 10 years or 20, how you spend that time is what matters, not the amount of time you have to spend.

He has eternity, and it's not worth it. He knows it isn't, and he's trying to stop anyone else from making that mistake. He's living for so long, and has lived so much, but it just isn't worth it anymore.

Lucy Lacemaker, from Satellite City (or, more officially, The August Few: Amygdala, though she never says this in there) puts it very well:

"Billions of years we've been about. And life's not worth much once the rest is gone. You get bored of the wind and the birds and the sound of laughter and the smell of pine. Life is like a piece of paper. And the writing is our lives. Our stories. When you only have 90 years, the ink turns to gold. So valuable are the words, the days you live. Cause soon, the story will end. But what if you have a never-ending page? A bottomless inkwell? The more you write, the less it all means. That's our curse. We live so long that it's not even life anymore. We're not living forever, we're dying forever."

@another-normal-anomaly said that if they kicked ass for 80 years, got saved, and kicked ass another 80, that's twice as much as they would have done. But that's still only 160 years, and it reinforces the Doctor's point; it's not the time that matters, it's the person, because others may spend that 160 years doing nothing, and some may spend that 160 years doing everything.

But they would still only have 160 years. Not forever. What the Doctor is warning against is eternity. Eternity is pointless.

@dagny-hashtaggart said the show is hypocritical in it's transhumanist stance for featuring an "awesome, nigh-immortal, time-traveling alien", but that just tells me they've either never watched the show or they have and 100% missed the point of the character of the Doctor.

Because the Doctor is not happy with his long life. He's not content or pleased about it. He's miserable. The only worth he finds in it is giving other, shorter-lived life forms the pleasure of seeing things they never could otherwise, and protecting the lives of those more fragile than him because he, at his core, has two values above all others:

If it kills me, I can put an end to this opera of my life, and I can finally rest

If it doesn't kill me, it means I've stopped it and other, more meaningful lives will be spared.

The Doctor is not some happy, positive character. He's a victim of a tragedy, and that tragedy is, quite painfully obviously, the fact he lives so long. His lifespan, his regeneration, is a curse to him, not a blessing. The fact you can call the show hypocritical for that tells me you've never seen it, or you've never understood it.

@argumate made a crude joke about a man with a big dick, named after having a big dick, saying that life wasn't about having a big dick.

Well, fun fact. If your dick were, say, 14 inches, as a human (which is a real condition that has happened), you would have heart problems every time you got erect, be entirely unable to enjoy penetrative sex (aside from the heart problems, you'd be unable to get more than a small fraction of your length in without hurting them), and if you ever tried to get a little more out of it, you'd seriously injure your partner.

Not only that, but you'd have social problems as well. Try hiding the outline when your flaccid length still reaches down past your knee. You'd be a laughing stock early on, and if you had frequent erections (say during puberty, post-growth spurt, pre-calming of the hormones), you'd be unable to hide it no matter how hard you tried.

It would cause more issues than that, too, believe me. And yet you're saying if a man who suffered from all of these problems told you "it's not all fun and games, having a big dick", you'd mock him for not loving the "gift" he's been "blessed" with?

All of you missed the point of the show, the character, and even the point of the scene you're remarking on.

I expected better comprehension on this site.

[nanenna]

The Best Laid Plans

Sleepy King Master Post (for my contributions anyway)

---

“I’m driving,” Jazz announced, snatching the keys from her dad as they all walked to where the GAV was parked on the city hall’s lawn.

“Young lady,” Mom started to scold.

“I only have a limited amount of time to drive with supervision before I’m off to college and driving all by myself.” Jazz gave her parents the biggest puppy dog eyes she could muster.

“And I am more than happy to be that supervision,” Vlad said as he reached for the front passenger seat.

Danny quickly jumped into the back seat, as far away from Vlad as he could get. Jazz adjusted the seat and mirrors while she waited for her parents to get in. Then she looked Danny in the eye through the rear view mirror, “The engine doesn’t start until every last person is buckled in.”

“C’mon, Jazz! Even if your grandma driving somehow got us into a car accident we both know I’d be fine.”

“I’m not repeating myself.”

Danny grumbled as he buckled himself in, Jazz kept her smirk to a minimum as she started the car. While she drove them to Vlad’s home she half listened to her parents explain the situation to him, the other half of her attention being spent watching the cars on the road around her swerve and nearly crash around her. She pulled up to a red light next to another car, the passenger staring up at her dumbfounded. Jazz smiled and waved.

“So you’re telling me Daniel is now the Ghost King,” Vlad asked as they pulled up to his mansion.

“That’s what it looks like,” Dad agreed boisterously. “Right now it seems like a meaningless title, but we’re worried about him getting randomly summoned by those darn occultists!”

“A bunch of fanatics with ludicrous ideas,” Mom said with a sniff. “I’d hate to think what they’d try to do to Danny if it ever happens again.”

There was a pause as they all got out of the GAV, then walked into Vlad’s mansion together.

“That doesn't explain why you're here. Shouldn't you be in school, young lady?”

“Apparently it's school policy to send siblings home in these kinds of situations.” And Jazz was so thankful for that!

“And Danielle?”

“She doesn’t go to our school, now does she?”

Vlad nodded along before turning his attention fully on Mom. “I’m guessing you have a plan?”

“Of course,” Mom replied without another thought. “Since we’re pretty sure the title is attached to the crown, we’re going to destroy it and hope it destroys the Ghost King title.”

Vlad stopped in his tracks, “You’ll what?”

Dad patted Vlad on the shoulder consolingly, “I know, I’m sure Danny would be a good king too, but he’s adamant he doesn’t want to. And the risk of a bunch of wacko cultists kidnapping him is just too big.”

“It’s not like you want me to be king anyway,” Danny added with a smirk.

“Well… Little Badger, you’re so young!” Vlad blurted out.

“And it’s weird, you’ve had the crown for over a year now, but I’ve never seen you use it.”

Vlad sighed deeply, “I’ve tried, but it just doesn’t do anything.”

Danny just nodded, “So if it doesn’t work anyway isn’t it better if no one can?”

Vlad side eyed Danny before shrugging, “You do have a point. I shall go retrieve the crown, one moment.” He turned and left the sitting room he’d led them to.

The Fentons all sat down on various pieces of furniture. Their parents shared a couch, sitting as close together as possible, while Jazz and Danny each sat in a chair of their own. Danny sighed and slouched in his seat.

“Danny, have you let Sam and Tucker know what's going on yet?” Jazz asked. It seemed the easiest way to distract him while they waited.

“Yeah, kinda. I told them I was home safe and would explain everything after school.”

Jazz nodded, that seemed the safest.

“They promised to bring me my homework,” Danny added with a groan. “It's so unfair! I got kidnapped, shouldn't I get- oh shit!” Danny practically threw himself out of his chair.

“Language,” Mom chided.

“Don't sneak up on me like that!” Danny whined as he picked himself up off the floor. Then he froze, eyes glaring at seemingly empty space. “How did you sneak up on me? You didn't activate my ghost sense at all.”

Danny waited, presumably a ghost they couldn't see was responding. Jazz had learned from the Youngblood incident, she quietly pulled out a collapsed boo-staff from her purse.

“You don't know who I am?”

…

“Well yes, but ghosts don't usually call me that.”

…

“How about you tell me your name first?” After another pause he burst into laughter. “Are you for real?”

“Danny, is it Youngblood?”

“Huh?” Danny looked to Jazz, then back to the open space. He gestured, “You can't see him?”

Jazz and their parents shook their heads.

Vlad came back into the room holding a cardboard box, knocking a thin layer of dust from the top. “Here it is!” He looked up and frowned. “Who are you, and why are you in my home?”

Everyone paused for the response.

“He didn't set off my ghost sense,” Danny added, he turned back to the empty space, “Are you even a ghost?”

A window burst, shattering into many flying shards under Batman’s combat boots. Jazz instinctively covered her face and shrieked. By the time she looked up the blond man in a trenchcoat from earlier was climbing through the shattered window while muttering to himself.

“Was that really necessary?!” Vlad yelled angrily.

The blond man pointed at Danny and said something, dazzling light flew from his finger to hit Danny, leaving him standing there braced for impact but looking fine.

Mom squawked, “What'd you do?!”

“Danno! Are you okay?” Dad rushed over to check Danny over.

“I think I'm okay?” Danny said shakily as he straightened up from his protective curl to look himself over.

There was a familiar burning crown floating over his head.

“Huh,” the blond man said, “that was supposed to reveal your true form.”

“Congrats, this is my true form,” Danny said with an eye roll.

“Danny, above your head,” Jazz said carefully. Unfortunately that got everyone's attention, far more than Wonder Woman slipping into the room.

Danny looked up, “What? Where?”

“No Danny, it's the crown,” Mom supplied, coming over to stand next to him while glaring at the heroes and their pet wizard. (That was unkind, Jazz shouldn't think such things.)

Dany reached up and felt around until he found the crown, then pulled it down to look at. “Okay, crown retrieved.”

“We may have a problem,” Vlad said as he pulled an identical crown from his cardboard box.

“What.” Danny looked back and forth between the crown in his hand and the one in Vlad's. “Why are there two?” Danny turned to the pet wizard, “What did you do?!”

“I didn't do anything, that was purely an identification spell, it can't duplicate things!”

“Well clearly you did something wrong,” Mom said while glaring at the pet wizard.

Jazz extended the boo-staff and came to stand slightly in front of Danny, these guys may have powers but Jazz had helped fight bigger, badder beings.

Vlad started to step backwards, back towards the hallway.

“Oh no you don’t!” Danny let go of his crown as he ran over to grab the crown Vlad was still holding, it quickly turned into a tug of war.

“Vladdie? What are you doing?” Dad asked in confusion.

“You don’t need two crowns, and since this one was already in my possession…”

“Absolutely not, you fruitloop!”

“Danny!” Mom and Dad both chided.

The Justice Leaguers had all gathered together and were just watching, seeming unsure what to do after all their silly dramatics.

Vlad glowered down at Danny’s hands on the crown, then his eyes widened. He switched to trying to grab Danny’s hand.

Danny looked down, his own eyes widened as he curled his hand into a fist. “Is that the Ring of Rage?! What the hell, that should still be on Pariah’s finger!” Danny looked at the pet wizard in horror, “What. Did. You. Do?!”

“Danny, Vlad, stop it both of you!” Mom moved over to the two and tried to separate them, Dad joined her and was doing his best to cajole them both into backing down. For her part Jazz kept her eyes on the intruders while the rest of her family and Vlad squabbled.

“Alright, that’s enough,” the pet wizard said grumpily before raising his voice. “Shut up!”

[redvexillum]

Your one-stop shop of finding every single one of my Kinktober/Flufftober 2024 stories with summaries! All my stories are posted on AO3 so click HERE if you want to read them there! 🥰

⋆˙⟡ — DAY 01. Cooking Together (Alastor x Reader)

In which you finally agreed to accept Alastor's invitation and cook his favourite dish together.

⋆˙⟡ — DAY 02. Fuck Machine (Vox x Reader)

Rating: 18 + || MDNI Vox decides to introduce a new toy for you to use for his viewing pleasures.

⋆˙⟡ — DAY 03. Sensory Deprivation (Alastor x Reader)

Rating: 18 + || MDNI Alastor's shadows ensnare and overwhelms you in a wicked game of dominance, leaving you breathless and craving for more.

⋆˙⟡ — DAY 04. Sharing Secrets (Charlie x Vaggie)

Vaggie stands by Charlie's side, offering comfort and hope, all while hiding a secret that could change everything between them.

⋆˙⟡ — DAY 05. Dubious Consent (Valentino x Reader)

Rating: 18 + || MDNI In a desperate bid for love, you give everything to Val - your body, your heart and...Your soul.

⋆˙⟡ — DAY 06. Anniversary (Vox x Reader)

Rating: 18 + || MDNI As desire and vulnerability intertwine, you realize your connection is far more than fleeting lust. With confessions of love, you embrace a deeper bond, choosing Vox again and again.

⋆˙⟡ — DAY 07. Confession (Alastor x Reader)

Alastor reveals his feelings the only way he knows how - radio broadcasting.

⋆˙⟡ — DAY 08. Massages (Alastor x Reader)

You had a terrible headache, but luckily Alastor knew what to do to help ease away your pain.

⋆˙⟡ — DAY 09. Cockwarming (Alastor x Reader)

Rating: 18 + || MDNI You didn't mean to displease Alastor, and now you were going to make it up to him by being his good little cockwarmer!

⋆˙⟡ — DAY 10. Fuck or Die (Lucifer x Lucifer)

Rating: 18 + || MDNI Lucifer accidentally cloned himself by messing around with his new contraption. The clone took half his soul and was killing both of them. The only way to fix this? They need to fuck.

⋆˙⟡ — DAY 11. Ritual (Alastor x Reader)

You and Alastor had a ritual when you fall apart into pieces. He will always pick you up and put you back together, no matter how many times it takes, no matter how long it takes.

⋆˙⟡ — DAY 12. Voxflix n' Chill (Vox x Reader)

Rating: 18 + || MDNI Vox wanted to flip the script on you and let you take the charge. You, incredibly coded to be a submissive, tried your best. Besides, how hard could it be to take the lead in the bedroom?

⋆˙⟡ — DAY 13. Threesome (Alastor x Vox x Reader)

Rating: 18 + || MDNI What shall Alastor and Vox do to you so you learn your lesson from being an insolent brat? Well, the answer may involve a joint effort from the both of them.

⋆˙⟡ — DAY 14. Foursome (Alastor x Vox x Lucifer x Reader)

Rating: 18 + || MDNI Alastor, Vox, and Lucifer wanted you to choose between them. Vox decided to make it a little competition between them. May the best dick win.

⋆˙⟡ — DAY 15. On Camera (Adam x Valentino)

Rating: 18 + || MDNI Valentino loved the human design, but after so many years of dodgy sequels and remakes, he wants the original - the original man. Or in other words, Adam is down for anything as long as Valentino agrees to call him the Dick Master.

⋆˙⟡ — DAY 16. Blackmail (Valentino x Tom Trench)

Rating: 18 + || MDNI Tom Trench. He is a somebody.

⋆˙⟡ — DAY 17. Oblivious Love (Alastor x Reader)

Heart palpitations after death? How curious. In which Alastor doesn't realize his own feelings until it's too late.

⋆˙⟡ — DAY 18. Sex Toys (Vox x Reader)

Rating: 18 + || MDNI Vox started to treat sex as part of his "to-do list." Unimpressed, you boo-ed him mid-fuck.

⋆˙⟡ — DAY 19. Shower Sex (Alastor x Reader)

Rating: 18 + || MDNI Alastor has rescued you from the Vees, but you didn't smell like him. Well, this won't do. This won't do at all.

⋆˙⟡ — DAY 20. Branding (Alastor x Reader)

Rating: 18 + || MDNI Alastor knew that you were a taken woman, and yet...yet, he wanted a mark of your love to him, so he hands you the knife.

⋆˙⟡ — DAY 21. Infidelity (Alastor x Reader)

Rating: 18 + || MDNI You know what you are doing is wrong - and yet, you continue to welcome Alastor into your arms while your husband remains blissfully unaware.

⋆˙⟡ — DAY 22. Hate Fucking (Adam x Reader)

Rating: 18 + || MDNI You hated him. But, fuck, you didn't hate this.

⋆˙⟡ — DAY 23. Costumes (Alastor x Reader)

Rating: 18 + || MDNI Even though you knew Alastor hid behind countless masks, layering them one after another in your presence, it was in those rare, intimate moments—when he let the facade slip, when he entwined himself with you—that you realized, despite the pain, the betrayal, you would still choose to stay by his side.

⋆˙⟡ — DAY 24. Rejection (Adam x Valentino)

Rating: 18 + || MDNI Adam, a wretched sinner cast down to Hell, finds himself penniless and lost in a world of filth. When he crosses paths with Valentino, who dangles a tempting deal before him, Adam wonders - he's already hit rock bottom, might as well fall deeper. A Companion story to "On Camera," told from Adam's POV.

⋆˙⟡ — DAY 25. Jealousy (Alastor x Reader)

Rating: 18 + || MDNI Alastor owns your soul—he owns you. So why, then, does he find himself aching when your laughter, your smiles, your warmth aren’t shared solely with him? Bound by the unspoken, you and Alastor tread an endless, delicate line. The feelings that burn between you remain unvoiced, holding you in an eternal dance—two souls walking side by side, desperately close yet never truly touching.

⋆˙⟡ — DAY 26. Obsession (Alastor x Reader)

Rating: 18 + || MDNI Despite it all, Alastor loves you. This is love. It has to be.

⋆˙⟡ — DAY 27. Status Gap (Vox x Reader)

Rating: 18 + || MDNI You and Vox had just started to explore a serious relationship, or so you believed—until one explosive fight left you both locked in a silent war, fuelled by stubborn pride. Days stretched by as neither of you made a move to reconcile, leaving you heartbroken yet determined to finally let go and move forward. But just as you began to find your footing without him, Vox made it clear he wasn’t about to let you slip away that easily.

⋆˙⟡ — DAY 28. Rough Sex (Alastor x Reader)

Rating: 18 + || MDNI You are a strange girl with questionable tastes, longing for a connection that won't be met with scorn. Alastor's rough handling melded pain and pleasure in a way that exhilarates you, that makes you feel that it was okay to be unapologetically yourself.

⋆˙⟡ — DAY 29. Sub/Dom (Alastor x Reader)

Rating: 18 + || MDNI Alastor strikes you a deal. He allows you to fulfill your debased desire once, and in return, you quit your job for good.

⋆˙⟡ — DAY 30. Naked/Clothed (Alastor x Reader)

Rating: 18 + || MDNI Thirteen times. Thirteen times he'll push you past the edge until you can finally beat insomnia. Too bad for Alastor, that's not how you fix insomnia.

⋆˙⟡ — DAY 31. Cockblock (Alastor x Reader)

This blasted, cursed fiend will be the death of Alastor. But - it was worth noting, Alastor was certainly not competing for your attention. That would be...preposterous.

✨️ You've reached the end!!!! ✨️

👆 Art by @peach-flavored-flambe 💖

[nam-the-nacho]

Mit2uba's Trauma: An Analogy

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●

Tw: I will be discussing the abuse Mitsuba has suffered from his environment, nothing that isn't in the manga, but I want to give a heads up. Additionally, I'm fortunate to have not gone though any severe traumatic experience myself, and am instead using my general knowledge, meaning if anything is incorrect here, please point it out!

(Also manga spoilers obviously)

I'm not pretending this hasn't ever been discussed, however I have yet to see an analogy of the consequences of Mitsuba's creation and (practically nonexistent) upbringing.

I'm going to divide this post into sections, but they won't really be organized, maybe chapters is a better definition. This thing is l o n g, so without further ado:

1: Mitsuba being paralleled to a puppet:

This is done quite often, although not in the same ways. Besides the psychological aspects of being Tsukasa's "puppet", as in being forced to do as he says and overall being under his control, but there are physical correlations too.

Tsukasa referring to Mitsuba as a "Thing"

Mitsuba lets Tsukasa hold him. This is much more then a surface-level fact considering Mitsuba usually rejects contact/uses it as an excuse to blame others. This is easily explained by "Mitsuba is simply scared of Tsukasa, he can't tell him no", except Mitsuba doesn't look scared when being held, he just looks, expressionless.

More then that, he completely trusts Tsukasa with his body weight, leaning into his touch and allowing himself to be comforted by it. This obviously occasionally backfires horribly

While Mitsuba being punched is framed in a humorous manner, the implications and weight of it are very heavy. It's all fun and games until you remember this is how Mitsuba is being raised, and it's all he's ever known. If Mitsuba doesn't want to do what Tsukasa tells him too, he gets punched. If he talks back, he gets kicked out of the broadcasting room (we'll get back to this later). If he asks to be Tsukasa's friend, he gets fireworks shoved down his mouth.

And the results of this... well:

This one in particular is interesting to me:

"It's just Mitsuba being surprised because Kou suddenly raised his voice". But that's not what's being illustrated. Upon hearing "brace yourself" even from someone like Kou, who wasn't planning on actively trying to hurt Mitsuba, he literally stiffens, pales, and begins to tremble and sweat, dropping the piece of chalk he was holding (those things break way to easily, yk he was serious). It's not shock or surprise being drawn, it's just genuine fear.

This could very well be me overthinking, but Mitsuba falls in what is almost a doll-like manner, arms and legs completely stiff.

2: Social rejection and trivial treatment:

The Mitsuba chapter (ch. 40) was worse then I remembered.

Mitsuba runs away from the broadcasting room in search of a better, safer place to stay. Only to understand he has none.

What's worse is that these are the characters we see being far kinder to the rest of the cast. We see Yako, Hanako and weirdo super-natural teacher together in his living quarters, watching tv together, but when Mitsuba approaches them...

(Tsuchigomori eventually does stay with him, but his opinion of him doesn't really change.)

"This guy's a pain, I'm out of here"

Tsuchigomori doesn't know Mitsuba, the only time we see them meet was when Tsuchigomori refers to him as emergency rations (above), and when he answered Mitsuba who asked him a question (answer starting with "You seriously don't know?" (YES SIR HOW WOULD HE KNOW HE'S LIKE ONE MONTH OLD)).

He probably heard he's a prankster from Hanako, which is why he wants nothing to do with him.

The point is despite Mitsuba needing to run from the closest thing he considers a "home", not a single supernatural actually understands his situation. Hanako borderline hates him, Nene barley understands he's a different Mitsuba, and Kou tends to accidently frame it as Mitsuba's CHOICE to stay with Tsukasa in the broadcasting room.

This is sadly something that can happen in reality, children trying to escape their less-desirable homes can often find themselves, sickeningly, returning after not finding somewhere or someone to take them seriously.

The most deranged part of this is that as a result of nobody properly digesting that he needs help, Mitsuba himself frequently convinces himself that everything is normal.

The implication that every time Mitsuba fights with Tsukasa he needs to just fend for himself until enough time has passed for Tsukasa to forget is sad. He's an outcast between the wonders for replacing the old No.3, despite his only other choice being death, which they don't know.

Sakura is probably the closest thing Mitsuba has to family, being in a similar situation to him, but it's incorrect to say she truly deeply cares about him. She's fond of Mitsuba, but never goes out of her way to help him when Tsukasa hurts him, and seems to have put her personal safety and goals as a higher priority then him (this isn't Sakura slander, I love my queen).

Natsuhiko treats him like a pet more then a human, and sometimes hits on him, which is just gross. Despite this Mitsuba genuinely appreciates him and sees him as an older brother. It's cruel to see this one-sided ordeal.

We don't actually know Mitsuba's true opinion of Tsukasa. In an almost realistic manner, his opinion is constantly contradictory. Mitsuba is scared of Tsukasa, but at the same time he only feels 'safe' when he's around.

Also, contrary to Sousuke, Mitsuba is more scared of Tsukasa then thunder, which could either mean that Sousuke's phobia of thunder was memory-correlated, or that Mitsuba is SO scared of Tsukasa that thunder is nothing in comparison.

Mitsuba freezing after hearing Tsukasa's voice

vs:

We know Mitsuba is aware that Tsukasa is not treating him okay, but by the time we learn this (pp arc), Mitsuba has half convinced himself that Tsukasa is doing everything he's doing to help him, and that "nobody else can help him anyways". Genuinely Mitsuba is one of the most subtle-yet-obvious victims portrayed in media I've even seen.

3: Ok-yeah-that's-not-okay moments

Do I really need to add anything.

I will anyways. Mitsuba is a dramatic by nature, unrelated to any of the emotional damage he's suffered. The fact that Tsukasa can make him stop crying just by demanding it really shows how bad he messed up Mitsuba. The ability to stop crying on command out of fear..... somebody save him.

Stay away!

Can't add to many pictures because of the tumbler limitations, but in every one of these scenes Mitsuba totally freezes, only regaining control and suddenly snapping once someone (aka Kou) does anything intimidating to him.

Going in-depth about the similarities between Kou and Tsukasa is an entirely different ordeal, but in short summery:

There's a carefully built connection between Tsukasa and Kou, that deserves a post of it's own.

4: Symptoms of trauma:

Trust issues are heavily associated with a problematic childhood, so it's not very surprising that Mitsuba struggles to trust anyone besides Tsukasa, even if he doesn't want to.

Very commonly appearing alongside trauma, self destructive behaviors are a tragically common coping habit. I don't think I need to add any pictures for this one, as practically every other sentence Mitsuba says have some 'Just let me pass away' coding to it.

Lack of memories is a symptom that appears in very severe cases, and while it isn't completely accurate to Mitsuba it's an interesting addition considering Mitsuba has no memories.

5: Character design:

Mitsuba has lots of chains and locks in his wonder form, a lock on his neck (which has multiple interpretations), one preventing his heart from beating, which could be a clever metaphor for Mitsuba further constricting his humanity by "choosing" to become a wonder, but most interesting:

What looks to be the remains of a leg shackle.

Mitsuba in a box labeled as fragile.

6: This definitely isn't symbolism for an eating disorder:

"I'm always hungry, no matter how much I eat" -M

"You starved yourself from all this moping around, just because you didn't want to eat something different?" -K

Can we talk about how the fandom collectively just skipped over the huge reveal that Mitsuba STARVES HIMSELF. Because I feel like that really wasn't talked about. As if this guy doesn't have enough going on, he now has to deal with constant starvation, dehumanization at new never-seen-before-pace, and the loss of his will to exist in the first place.

He is both metaphorically and physically falling apart, constantly in physical pain. When he isn't in physical pain it's because he's experiencing gut-wrenching psychological torment as he can't stop eating live beings. I don't blame this guy.

The only person who knew of this was Tsukasa, until he "told" Kou. Told is in quotation marks because it was never really Mitsuba trusting Kou enough to open up about the hell he's enduring, as mentioned before Mitsuba doesn't exactly know how to trust. The fact was forced out of him due to a dire situation, but Kou could not have reacted in a worse way:

Pro tip: If your reaction to learning that your best buddy is suffering from a complicated relationship with food, is shoving said food into their mouth violently, you might need therapy just as much as they do.

Kou is still unaware that Mitsuba's diet contains living things too, but if we're being honest that doesn't really put Kou in the right here. Like, man, I know you're freaking out because your friend just asked you to end him, but please take out your anger on something that isn't him.

And don't act surprised when this is his reaction:

This is arguably the a result of post traumatic stress disorder. Mitsuba didn't just escape, he hid in the nearest corner, making himself as small as possible, hid his head and trembled. The reason I'm calling this out as PTSD is because the only other time he panicked like this was right after Tsukasa shoved the bird heart down his throat.

So for both situations it's:

Tsukasa force feeds Mitsuba -> Mitsuba loses control (starts attacking everything)

Kou force feeds Mitsuba -> Mitsuba bites Kou

And the results are the same. He reacted the same way because mentally it was the same situation to him, It doesn't matter what the intentions were, Kou triggered an event(s (considering he's eaten multiple supernatural and is absolutely repulsed by it)) that Mitsuba had no intention of revisiting.

Summery:

Mitsuba's trauma is often overshadowed by more obvious displays of mental scarring, like with the Yugi twins and Kou, and is often represented with irony or humor, including by the creators themselves.

Even without everything he's gone though, Mitsuba was always a hopeless character. He just existed one day. He doesn't have anything, anyone. He's never been told he's loved, he's never felt sunlight, he never got to play, he's never had anyone tuck him into bed, or read him a story. He was robbed of his childhood, and any connections besides the few who remember him for someone that he isn't.

He doesn't even know what snow is, yet he knows how blood tastes like

This entire post wasn't even scratching the tip of the iceberg in terms of how much grave emotional turmoil Mitsuba has faced. And will face. Yeah I don't know how well his trust issues will cope with Natsuhiko leaving him to die. If he lives.

The idea of this long rant was to point out that Mitsuba's trauma and mental struggles are just as, if not more, relevant then his physical ones. And they do affect him, and they do have consequences. And they will most certainly come back 20x worse later on in the plot. I would say to prepare mentally, but I know tbhk fans can handle just about anything.

Thank you for reading!

ヾ(≧▽≦*)

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●

[anyroads]

Totally fair point of confusion! I wrote this post thinking three people would see it and it was more of a frustrated rant than a well considered thought-piece. Looking at the number of notes on it now is both touching and a very real "the horror of being seen" experience.

What I meant was that Reform Judaism has a considered approach to its perspective on halacha that is equally as methodical and valid as that of other denominations. The implication wasn't meant to be that its approach is the same with different outcomes (I don't think Abraham Geiger and Maimonides would agree on a lot of things but I also don't think they would throw hands the way some charedi rabbis would today. Also I'd pay good money to see Geiger and Maimonides debate halacha). The point was that the Reform approach is just as valid, because at the outset of the Reform movement rabbis (like Geiger) also put in the work, read and interpreted halachic texts, and even if that work reached the conclusion of, "it's up to the individual," their work was just as valid and considered as that of any other denomination, even if how they did it was different. To me that's halachic interpretation, because it's an informed approach to Jewish law that reaches a conclusion which determines pathways to halachic practice - even that practice is, "these laws are not binding, therefore it is up to the individual to decide what to take on." Basically, in the same vein as the idea that ultimately, the Torah is vague about a lot of aspects of halacha in terms of practical applications or observances, so that "observe the shabbat" can be interpreted in a myriad of ways, so too can the idea of how to interpret anything be diverse, but that doesn't make it any less valid.

Nevertheless, Reform Judaism has a set, considered approach to interpreting halacha that sets it apart from other denominations, and also a system of leadership that is involved in determining or upholding practice, despite the emphasis on individualism. This is why the URJ exists in the U.S. and Canada, the MRJ and Liberal Judaism in the UK, etc. I felt it important to point this out because there's a lot of bias among Jews with stricter practices (especially orthodoxim and charedim), who think that Reform Jews are just lapsed Jews who don't engage with Jewish practice, are basically assimilated, and don't do much in the way of observance beyond getting a Chanukah bush. It felt wrong to go off on my little rant without addressing this, especially because when I wrote it there was a conversation echoing in my head that I had with a friend years ago, which was a different one - with a different ortho friend - than what I referred to in the post. This friend was making fun of how Reform Jews don't have any kind of Jewish practice and have to ask their rabbi for advice if they want to do anything. So I asked him, "isn't that what you also do?" And he got very quiet. Struggled to come up with a reply. And then changed the subject. So it felt important to me to acknowledge that more modern branches of Judaism (and I didn't even address Reconstructionist or Renewal or Masorti) have just as valid an approach to how they view and interpret halacha, and to be honest even though it's not the same as Conservative and Orthodox, there's a lot more commonality there than people realize. It's what the practical application of the outcome of these approaches looks like that's so different.

And while Reform Judaism does have a much more individualistic approach to observance, there are certain halachot that are relevant to Jewish practice that Reform rabbis have influentially interpreted - such as the idea that electricity flows like water, and is thus a current that can be turned on and off. However individualistic a branch of Judaism might be, it's nevertheless a community based religion, so there will be overarching ideas that connect people through shared practice. Reform Judaism doesn't consider halacha binding, but that doesn't mean it doesn't have an organized system of religious leadership and thought leadership that forms perspective on halacha to determine communal practices. There's just more openness in certain Jewish denominations/communities about whether or not people uphold that practice. Ie. most people in a Reform shul won't really care whether or not you share their practice, whereas it creates much more tension if you deviate in an Orthodox or even Modern Orthodox shul - but even then it's often more an issue of "it's not polite to bring this up" as opposed to, say, deviating in practice in a charedi shul, in which case you've committed an egregious offence that will incur people's judgment and potentially cost you in real-life consequences. Conversely, when I've gone into Reform communities, whether a shul or just a Seder table, it's made people uncomfortable when it came up that my practice is stricter and more along Conservadox lines, though that's likely because of the associations people have with those communities and the politics of many participants, or how they're perceived. (Shoutout to that one guy at a house party after college who assumed that because I didn't use my phone on Shabbat I was homophobic which... was a leap, shall we say.)

And on that note, clearly my own practice is not Reform Judaism. I took a Florence Melton Adult School class on Jewish traditions and practice through an inter-denominational lens. We studied various halachic texts and Jewish holidays through commentaries from rabbis and leaders of significance to the main branches of American Judaism - Orthodox, Conservative, and Reform, which meant texts ranging from the Babylonian Exile to 20th century scholars. In the process we learned about the approach, history, and structure of each denomination, so that's where my information comes from. If it's incorrect in any way I'm more than open to continuing to learn!

I know I'm writing this right as shabbat is coming in and tbh I'm fine with that. I'm so tired of Jews saying that if they don't keep shabbat or practice Judaism in an orthodox way they're "bad jews" or "not observant." Um, no, that's not true. That's now how it works.

Reform Jews who use electricity on Shabbat are just as observant. Because Reform rabbis did the same work of Torah law interpretation, and came up with a different answer than orthodox Jews, but using the same process and approach to reading the text. They didn't go, "this is inconvenient so we're just not gonna do it." They said, "where orthodoxy sees electricity as something that may create a spark and therefore violates the melachot around making fire, we see it as a current, like water flowing, and just as it is permitted to use a faucet on Shabbat, so is flipping an electric switch."

If you choose to not be observant because it's not for you, that's fine. But orthodoxy is not the only way to be observant of Jewish practice. There's no line of what makes you observant and what doesn't, and that doesn't just go for Shabbat but it's the easiest example to illustrate my point. The Torah just says, "observe the Shabbat." That's it. If you look around on Friday night and go, "oh hey it's Shabbat, huh?" then tell me how that isn't observing the Shabbat? If you light candles and make kiddush and then go out to a movie, haven't you observed it? The Rabbis in the Babylonian era interpreted what Jewish practice looks like in a diaspora without the cultural/religious structure around a central temple, but that has been re-interpreted in every generation since and continues to be.

The real question is, are you making informed choices about your practice or are you just doing what works for you? Which is also fine, by the way. The thing that bothers me is when people think that only orthodox Jewish practices are "real" or legitimate. An orthodox friend of mine once started shit talking Reform Jews to me (why???) and how they aren't observant like she is. So I asked her if she tears her toilet paper on Shabbat and she said yes, of course. I pointed out that there are a lot of charedi Jews who would consider that a blatant violation of Shabbat and that, in their eyes, she wouldn't be considered shomer Shabbat. It's all a spectrum, there's no ONE right way.

My favorite Midrash is that the Temple had 13 entrances - one for each of the 12 tribes, and one for those who weren't sure which one they belonged to/didn't belong to any of them. Judaism is such an inherently pluralistic ethnoreligion, please stop buying into the brainrot bullshit that only charedim can do it correctly.

[naamahdarling]

What are the elevator game and Three Kings?

They're modern folklore/urban legend ritual games games akin to Bloody Mary, spread by creepypasta memes across the internet for thrills and chills. (I actually love creepypasta. There's some excellent horror in the genre. Ted the Caver and Candle Cove are both super cool, those aren't hard to find.)

The Elevator Game supposedly originates in Japan or South Korea, and involves getting into an elevator and pressing the buttons in a certain sequence in order to reach a surreal otherworld, with dire consequences should they fail to follow all the rules. It doesn't have a goal or reward, just the appeal of accessing a creepy alternate reality. It's a fairly popular bit of modern folklore and I enjoy it for its modern yet classic feel and its specificity. This is a game that it is actually feasible to play, unlike a lot of other modern creepypasta ritual games, which can be very complicated.

The Three Kings Ritual is another creepypasta ritual game, and it's a fucking banger. I HIGHLY recommend you read it in full.

It has a great name, great symbolism, a creepy as shit setup, and a genuine chance, I think, at getting something fucked up to happen (in the sense that you could very easily experience some trippy visual distortion and possibly some auditory stuff as well from the white noise of the fan).

It genuinely put my hairs up the first time with these bits (the bolded and italicized bits are of particular note):

Place one chair in the center of the room. ....Place the other two chairs exactly to the left and right, facing your throne. The distance between your throne and that of your queen and fool should be about the length of your arm to each side, more or less. Place the two large mirrors on the queen and fool chairs left and right of you, facing you (and each other). Try your best to have them stand at a 90 degree angle (or else you may get more or less than three kings). If you sit on your throne facing straight ahead (north), you should be able to perceive your own reflection in each of the two mirrors without actually having to turn your head nor your eyes to do so. If you see your own reflection in the corner of your eye, just barely there, then you've done it right.

So you can see how this would lend itself to seeing things. Mirrors are already creepy. With a small light in a dark room, it gets worse. This isn't about a demon or vengeful spirit, just...presences, which is much creepier to me because on some level it feels more plausible.

Look straight ahead, at the darkness. Not at the candle, not at the mirrors, just straight ahead. Eagle-eyed readers surely noticed I didn't say during setup which chair was queen and which chair was fool. That's because it's your job to find out. And from their point of view, you are either their queen or their fool, too. Hence three kings.

Fucking hell.

Again the goal is nebulous. The original text leaves so many things unanswered. Are we to converse with these entities, to ask questions? What the actual fuck happens if you get the angle wrong and get more than two spirits?

All I know is that I am curious. This is absolutely my favorite ritual game.

[taemcains]

eroticism, sensuality & how cain embodies it

i've always called cain erotic but since the kiss has taken over every last braincell of mine, i've been wondering what exactly makes him so. from the moment i read i want to do with you what isn't customary to say out loud, the with immediately struck me. not do to you but with. which could either mean what he wants them to experience together, as equals, or having her helpless and at his mercy, or both.

the verbal aspect of sex is what almost everyone gets wrong in media, especially when it comes to men. dirty talk is cheap, vulgar, and disgusting but why does cain do it so well? because he reveals just enough to leave you wondering, grasping desperately at your own imagination. i should've been crucified long ago for my thoughts about you. so what are you thinking? sublimating admitting to animal basal impulses, considered dirty and impure with so much grace and sensuality. saving all his confessions for such a significant moment, as they always step around each other and walk in circles, never saying anything outright so when he does it's shocking, outrageously hot.

and the inch he does give is painted vividly. where the blood boils and languid sighs fill the air.

he doesn't impose himself onto her, doesn't overpower her, make her smaller. it's more of an enveloping, surrounding, surrendering. he hardly touched her in the church, but his words and presence eclipsed the outside world, making sin religious.

while he is more, or even completely, dominant in their relationship, his dominance isn't to assert his desire onto her, but to allow the revealing of hers. he doesn't push her around, doesn't order her but carefully spins a web around her, trapping her senses, trapping her in a web of her own desires, disregarding her inhibitions. everything about him is subtle and slow and seductive, and every final decision has rested on her shoulders. in the church, he has his fingers over her stomach, he looks up, he waits. in the bathroom, he has her trapped between his body and the cross, he says his piece, he waits. only when she touches him back does he kiss her.

the power gap between them, purely antagonistic of the usual immortal/mortal ship, is blurred and coexisting. cain was the one laying out his cards, his barest desires and wants but it was lane who felt caught between his jaws, like this was her surrender. he was pulling the strings even as he was being vulnerable.

over all this, intimacy and understanding is the most erotic thing of all, and it was captured beautifully in the kiss scene. cain knew what i liked because we were so similar. cain being able to read all her nonverbal cues, to know which is permission. cain laying on her lap, talking about acceptance and understanding and eternity.

it's so rare to see a male character who is actually erotic, not vulgar and as a 'bring back real sensuality in media' girl i'm fucking up this buffet. i can't wait to see how this evolves in his later scenes and thank you taemin for birthing him.

[yuki2sksksk]

Here's a fun scenario!!!

Basically, maybe in the beginning of season 1 or around Part 2, Nomura accidentally finds a relic that may have belonged to a demon, their demon art being able to control time. She keeps it in the museum for storage to be taken to the Janus Order for study.

Only for A. In events of "Waka Chaka" the relic is broken or activated and the demon uses it to escape to present Arcadia. Or B. After "A Battle of Two Bridges" a museum work mistakes the relic as a display piece and puts it up, leading to the same scenario.

But not just the demon is taken to Arcadia but also the Demon Slayers the had been chasing it, being Tanjiro, Nezuko, Zenitsu, and Inosuke.

The group is not only stuck in the modern era, but we're the land and language is so new and unfamiliar. Even more confusing is the boy in shining armor seemingly protecting some stone "demons".

(finally managed to answer an ask idk what's going on with my blog)

(update: I can answer this one only for now huhhhh anyway)

That's a fun scenario to think of! I also weighted the option of time traveling but didn't think to put a demonic relic 🤔 I once thought of having Yushiro being involved in the Trollhunters stuff starting off with his drawn portrait of Tamayo being hung in the museum (because it's one of his oldest painting and he used very old and antique painting set)

Your idea will be fun to explore! I'd imagine this being set at the option B because wohoo the CHAOS there would be so so messy.

Like in Jim's POV, he suddenly sees four unknown people stumble out of nowhere in eastern clothing and brandishing swords he recognizes as katanas (and the girl doesn't seem human???) and in Tanjirou's POV, he and his friends get transported into another world in the middle of a fight and what what are those demons they don't smell like demons wait WAIT INOSUKE I DON'T THINK THEY'RE DEMONS DON'T KILL THEM YET --

But everyone probably focuses more on the fact that they're people to protect, so Tanjirou and his gang try assisting Jim and the others despite the absolute confusion and language barrier.

The way Bular and the changelings and the goblins suddenly get overpower only by the appearance of four teenagers is bewildering like these kids aren't like Jim and Toby -- they CAN and WILL take lives. This makes Jim and Toby flabbergasted too as they watch the slayers actually don't hesitate in chopping limbs and aiming for the necks.

Surprise surprise Draal manages to have a quick but informative conversation with the slayers in the middle of the fight like he suddenly speaks fluently in Japanese (Nomura let out some Japanese curses as well) and it's a huge help to the others so they can have better coordination in fighting against Bular.

Once the bridge is down and the changelings are gone off sights, Jim and Toby have to stand as a shield of sorts between their troll friends and the slayers because suddenly the katanas are all pointed towards them.

" They don't smell like a demon. " Tanjirou says. " But they are vulnerable to the sunlight as well. "

" Drop your swords! They're not dangerous! " Jim can't help but to snarl. He's exhausted. Draal just has his right arm turned into stone and the others are not left unscathed from the battle.

These new incomers are powerful -- probably the strongest humans Jim has ever seen. They are warriors, he can tell. They have experiences. He's forever thankful that these slayers are on the good side at least.

" Do you eat humans? " The question is directed to the blue troll.

" No. " Draal answers in Japanese, his breath is heavy and tired.

The slayers exchange glances. Zenitsu can tell that there's nothing but truth in their claims. Nezuko doesn't seem alarmed as well. Inosuke decides to let his comrades lead the situation next. Then, they drop down their arms to their sides.

" So, " Toby looks around at the mess, " what now? "

This can probably be a very long one shot or some chapters. I imagine the slayers have to stay in the trollmarket (with Nezuko and all) because staying together is a better option. They'd try to explain what they work as and get accustomed to the modern world.

Inosuke absolutely loves the training ground, cackling as he dodges the swinging blades and leaping over moving tiles. Everyone gets another whiplash at seeing his beautiful face. Zenitsu jumps at every second a troll walks past him but he feels safer around Aaarrrgghh (cause he thought the gentle giant could shield him from danger).

Nezuko spends most of her time sleeping. She surprises some trolls with her strength. They compare her to gnomes, and this sparks out some angry rambling from Tanjirou who keeps claiming that she's a beau.

Tanjirou offers to help Jim in terms of stamina and muscle management with total concentration breathing. Their swordsmanship is different so there's that. Blinky thinks it'd be good to have Jim battling against an opponent with different style fighting and Tanjirou is yet to be defeated. He encouraged Jim and is very humble so he gets along with everyone.

This is all I can think of for now, but this is a joy and interesting idea to think of.

[zyafics-recs]

reblogging comment review from @zyafics

i said i was gonna read when u edited and now u given me the signal 🫡 let's see if i'm ready to let go of pretty maybank and rafe <😭3 ⬇️

Some gave you that look—you know, the one that said, “Oh, sweetie, you again?”—while others just shook their heads, probably wondering when you would finally stop playing caretaker and start looking out for yourself.

maniacally scribbling down this sentence into my notes bc i am in love with how it flows?? i have a writer-crush on u bc of the way u string together words so elegantly

Brand new driver’s license, barely knew how to parallel park, and boom, you’re getting woken up at like 2 a.m. because your dad’s been arrested.

don't even know if im gonna to even talk about the story atp but one of my FAVORITE things about ur writing is how u add these little specific details that makes the characters come alive !!!

It wasn’t the first time you’d seen him wasted or bruised up, but this time felt different. This time, it hit you that this was gonna be your life now.

why did this line hit me so deep???

Now, sitting in the small, stuffy waiting room of the sheriff’s department, you glance around, feeling a knot of tension tightening in your stomach, the fluorescent lights doing little to help, making everything appear sterile and unforgiving.

love the word fluorescent lights, could never learn how to spell it without google

JJ’s next to you, his leg bouncing like he’s got caffeine running through his veins instead of blood. You’re already annoyed, and it doesn’t help that Rafe is sitting on your other side, looking just as pissed off.

THIS IS MAKING ME GIGGLE SO BADLY THE DYNAMIC TRIO

"You wanna talk about sisters too?"

the way i went—

JJ nods, fiddling with his shark tooth necklace, the one you’d given him when he was seven.

u mesh so well with canon events 🩷🙂‍↕️

You glance at the two men beside you, each representing a different part of your world. Your brother stubs out his cigarette, glancing over at Rafe with an exaggerated sigh. He smirks, but it doesn't reach his eyes.

thought this man was gonna be nice and offer rafe a cigarette but i guess wer're not there yet

It’s been a month since the nightmare with your dad, and you’ve pretty much been living at Rafe’s new place ever since. Sure, you’ve got your own house, but it just doesn’t feel like home anymore. Rafe’s apartment though? It’s like your little safe haven now. You don’t officially live there, but who are you kidding? Most of your stuff is in his drawers, he’s stocked the bathroom with all your skincare, hair stuff, even a toothbrush. He tried to go all-out, buying you everything, and you kept telling him to stop, but it’s like talking to a wall. You gave up eventually.

so bf of him

“Anyways,” He rolls his eyes, ignoring the way you tried to cut him off, his hand now lightly squeezing your knee, “You were out there showing off, catching wave after wave. I was so fucking annoyed."

why is this so funny LOLL

“You know, it’s funny. Back then, I thought you were just this arrogant piece of shit who was always trying too hard to fit in.”“That’s so sweet.”

im literally gonna miss them sm 😭

Ward’s expression turns cold once more, but there’s a flicker of something—maybe regret, maybe just a reflection of his anger.

FEARRRR

“Let’s go home." You nod, a smile spreading across your face. “Yeah, let’s go home.”

such a cute ending <3

FINAL THOUGHTS • i literally am going to miss them so much, it was such an adventure to read this series (and despite how late it is), and with the new edits, i can just see how much you grown as a writer. it's glorious and im so happy to have been there for the ride! can't wait to read more of ur things and also, how the fuck do u write so fast? i blink and there's 15304 different rafe fics out by you??

THE OTHER SIDE OF PARADISE - rafe cameron (+18) - seven (finale)

request: "a rafe enemies to lovers 🫣 the reader is jjs sister the whole drama before but then she gets left behind on the ship and rafe ends up comforting her and then yea that’s all I got you can do whatever else the rest 😛" + "def some little smut during the enemies part and a long story"

word count: 6.3k

warnings: last chapter <3

You’ve been to Kildare County Sheriff’s Department way more times than you care to admit

Being the oldest kid in your family—and somehow the only actual adult—you lost count of how many times you had to drag your dad out of jail between the ages of sixteen and twenty. It felt like a full-time job.

Then there were the countless times you’d been there for your friends. 

JJ, for instance, had been taken in more than once for public disturbances. It was almost a given that he'd end up in that shithole whenever there was a party or some kind of trouble brewing. You knew every officer by name, and they knew you too. Some gave you that look—you know, the one that said, “Oh, sweetie, you again?”—while others just shook their heads, probably wondering when you would finally stop playing caretaker and start looking out for yourself.

But you always showed up, no matter what, because that’s what you did. You took care of your own.

The first time you had to pick up your dad, you were sixteen. Brand new driver’s license, barely knew how to parallel park, and boom, you’re getting woken up at like 2 a.m. because your dad’s been arrested. You were shaking the whole time, gripping the steering wheel like your life depended on it, eyes blurry with tears. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen him wasted or bruised up, but this time felt different. This time, it hit you that this was gonna be your life now.

You were stuck.

You remember pulling up to the station, parking all kinds of crooked because your hands wouldn’t stop trembling. You ran inside, still half-asleep, and the officer at the desk gave you this sad little smile. “He’s in the back,” he said, like you didn’t already know.

When you saw your dad slumped over, bruised, and barely awake, something inside you just... cracked. He looked up, and for a second, he recognized you. “Hey, kiddo,” he mumbled, still drunk, still out of it. Back then, there was still some part of him left, some shred of the man he used to be.

You signed the papers, helped him stumble to the car, and drove home in silence while he passed out in the passenger seat. It was the first of so many nights like that. And you knew it wasn’t gonna be the last. When you finally pulled into the driveway, you helped him inside and onto the couch. He mumbled a thank you before passing out, his snores filling the room.

Now, sitting in the small, stuffy waiting room of the sheriff’s department, you glance around, feeling a knot of tension tightening in your stomach, the fluorescent lights doing little to help, making everything appear sterile and unforgiving.

You wish you could be anywhere but here.

JJ’s next to you, his leg bouncing like he’s got caffeine running through his veins instead of blood. You’re already annoyed, and it doesn’t help that Rafe is sitting on your other side, looking just as pissed off.

“Will you stop bouncing your leg JJ?” You grit out, already irritated from waiting longer than an hour.

“Why the fuck did he have to come?” JJ mutters, throwing daggers at Rafe with his eyes.

“JJ, not now.” You put your hand on his arm, trying to keep him from starting something. The last thing you need is another fight.

JJ glares, but his jaw clenches shut. “This is so messed up,” he grumbles.

“Messed up is leaving your sister alone with your drunk piece of shit father.”

“Like I knew he was there, you dumbass?” JJ shoots back, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Maybe stop leaving her alone.”

“Oh, here we go,” you mutter, feeling the tension rise again. The last thing you need right now is for these two to start another fight.

Ever since JJ came back to the mainland only to pick you up from Taneyhill, things had been…tense. It was one thing to talk about you and Rafe, it was a completely different thing to see you together.

You know your brother hates every second of it. 

“Oh, but you wanna talk about drunk pieces of shit? How many times did your daddy bail you out?” 

Rafe’s eyes narrow, his fists clenching, “How many times did you make your sister bail you out, huh?”

"You wanna talk about sisters too?"

You shut your eyes, attempting to ignore the way they’re clawing each other’s throats out with tainted insults. It was a miracle they're standing in the same room without killing each other, but you can only take so much. It’s like they’re about to throw punches, right there in the middle of the sheriff’s office.

"Shut the fuck up Maybank."

“Fuck you, Cameron!” JJ snaps, standing up so fast his chair skids backward, “You think you’re better than us?”

Rafe stands up too, stepping closer to JJ, “Better than you? Yes.”

“Don’t act like you’re doing this for her,” JJ scoffs. “You’ve never helped anyone but yourself, you manipulative asshole.”

“That’s enough,” you snap, standing up and stepping between them, pushing them apart. Your voice is shaking with frustration. “You two are going to shut the fuck up or take this shit outside. It’s nine in the morning. I didn’t get a wink of sleep, and I’m not gonna sit here and hear you two bitch it you.”  

JJ glares at Rafe over your shoulder. “We don’t need this asshole’s help. We can handle it ourselves.”

Rafe sneers. “Handle it? Like you’ve handled everything else?”

Your brother lunges forward, but you push him back, your voice shaking. “Sit your ass down or leave, I’m not going to repeat myself.”

They both just stare at you, their harsh words still hanging in the air of this stuffy room. The tension is almost suffocating, but there's no way you’re letting them keep tearing each other apart. You’re exhausted, emotionally and physically drained. The last thing you need right now is to play mediator between them… again.

Rafe finally sits down, arms crossed, biting his tongue—for your sake, you know. JJ’s sitting too now, still fidgeting like he always does, tapping his fingers against the armrest.

"Look," you say, your voice still firm, "We're here for a reason. Let's just get through this and get out, okay?"

Your brother just grunts, glaring at the wall like it’s personally offended him. Rafe lets out a sigh and gives you the tiniest nod, like a reluctant “fine.” You sit back down, feeling a bit of the weight in your chest ease up. Rafe leans in and gently takes your hand, mouthing, "I’m sorry." You give it a little squeeze—apology accepted, for now.

JJ notices but looks away too quickly for you to read him. You know he’s pissed, but at least for the moment, he’s staying quiet.

The minutes crawl by, each one feeling like forever, and finally, a cop shows up at the door, calling your name. The three of you stand up at the same time, and Rafe and JJ follow behind you, silent but close, as you walk down the hallway.

The clanging of barred doors shutting behind you makes your stomach twist, and you eventually end up in a small interrogation room. The officer gestures to a chair, "Take a seat." He heads off to get paperwork, and you glance at Rafe, who’s watching you like he’s afraid you might disappear. You know he won’t relax until your dad is completely out of the picture.

Your brother, on the other hand, leans against the wall with crossed arms, a brooding expression on his face. He's always been protective, even if his way of showing it often led to clashes with others. You wish things could be different.

Officer Malcom comes back with a stack of papers, but before you can even look at them, Rafe’s lawyer, Mr. Johnson, walks in. Rafe's had him on speed dial since the whole mess started, and honestly, he's been a lifesaver. He sits beside you, reviewing the papers calmly, and just having him there makes everything feel a little less scary.

“Alright, folks, let's go through this step by step. The first form here is the petition for a temporary restraining order. It outlines the incidents and reasons for seeking protection.”

“Are these incidents documented with the sherrif’s office?” Mr. Johnson's expertise is evident in the way he examines the document meticulously.

“Yes, sir. We have reports dating back to—" Officer Malcom stops for a second, checking the data, “About eight years ago, give or take.”

Rafe’s head snaps in your direction, brows furrowed, clearly pissed off that this has been going on for that long without anyone doing anything. You try to ignore it, focusing on the papers in front of you instead.

“What happens after I file this?

“Once filed, a judge will review the petition. If approved, a temporary restraining order will be issued, usually effective immediately. Then, there'll be a hearing within a few weeks to determine if a permanent order is necessary.”

“What if he doesn't abide by the temporary order?” 

The officer only nods sympathetically. “Violating a restraining order is a criminal offense. He could face fines, jail time, or both.”

Rafe’s still looking at you, “Does she have to serve him personally with these papers?”

“It’s crucial that he’s officially notified. We handle that part, though.”

Rafe’s lawyer is taking notes when he speaks up again, “If he contests the order, he’ll have the opportunity to present his side at the hearing. Both parties can bring witnesses or evidence. But based on your father’s behavior, that’s unlikely.”

You hope to God he doesn’t. The thought of seeing him again makes you feel like you might throw up. You take a deep breath, hands itching to twirl a piece of your hair.

“How long does the process usually take?”

You feel a hand touch your shoulder, gently tightening the grip around the skin, you don’t have to look back to know it’s Rafe. By now you know the lines and the ridges of his hands as if they are your own.

"The timeline can vary, but typically, from filing to the hearing, it might take a few weeks. It depends on the court's schedule and any potential delays."

You nod, absorbing the information while trying to steady your breathing. None of this feels real. Not the legal stuff, not the fact that this could actually be over soon. As the conversation continues, Mr. Johnson outlines the next steps clearly, discussing what will happen during and after the hearing. 

The officer quickly gathers the papers in his hands, “I’ll get everything started then. Just a moment.”

As he leaves to process the paperwork, a brief silence settles over the room. You exchange glances with JJ and Rafe, both of them entirely too interested of the concrete floor. 

“This is the right thing to do, right?”

You know it is. You’ve known for years, but it’s still hard to understand how it came to this. Your life could’ve been so different. 

JJ nods, fiddling with his shark tooth necklace, the one you’d given him when he was seven. “Yeah. He shouldn’t be able to just...” He trails off shaking his head.

Rafe squeezes your shoulder once more, then lowers himself to your level and plants a quick peck on your temple, “You’ve got this. It’ll be okay.”

Mr. Johnson finally puts his pen away, turning to you, “I’ll stay on top of the filings and keep you updated on any developments.”

This moment is a culmination of years of struggle. It's daunting, but you’re not alone. 

 "Thank you.”

JJ shifts his weight, his agitation visible. "I hate this," he mutters. 

"I know," you reply, not knowing what else to say.

The door swings open again, and Officer Malcom re-enters, holding a stack of papers. "Alright," he says, handing you a pen. "Just sign here, and we'll get this process started."

You take the pen with shaky hands, knowing there’s no going back after this. As you sign your name, you can't help but sigh in relief.

This is a step towards freedom.

Rafe watches you intently, his eyes full of concern. He reaches out, placing a hand on your back, a little reminder that he's here for you. JJ stands close by, his protective instincts on high alert.

After you finish signing, Officer Malcom takes the papers and gives you a reassuring nod. "We'll take care of the rest. You should hear from us soon about the next steps."

You stand up, feeling a little lighter, but the emotional toll of the day still kicks your ass. As you make your way out of the room, Rafe keeps a steady hand on your back, guiding you.

Once outside, the morning sun feels almost blinding after the harsh fluorescent lights of the station. JJ immediately lights a cigarette, taking a long drag and exhaling with a sigh. 

Rafe looks at you, his expression softening. "You're good?"

You nod, managing a small smile. "Yeah, I think so. Thank you for being here, both of you."

JJ smirks, though there's a hint of sadness in his eyes. "Where else would I be?”

You glance at the two men beside you, each representing a different part of your world. Your brother stubs out his cigarette, glancing over at Rafe with an exaggerated sigh. He smirks, but it doesn't reach his eyes.

“Gotta admit, I never thought I'd see the day when 'Rafe the Retch' would be helping us out.”

A laugh escapes your lips before you can stop it, but you quickly cover it up, turning it into a cough. You’d forgotten about that one.

Rafe’s eyebrows shoot up. “'Rafe the Retch'? Seriously, what the fuck?”

“Ask her,” JJ nods in your direction.

“You called me that shit?”

You bite your lip, “To be fair, I called you worse things.”

Rfe tilts his head, hands on his hips, “Like what?”

“You don’t want to know.”

The three of you start walking toward the parking lot, as you reach the cars, JJ pulls you into a quick, tight hug. “We’re gonna get through this,” he murmurs, his voice filled with determination. 

You hug him back, “I know, Jay.”

Rafe stands a few feet away, watching the exchange with a thoughtful expression. When your brother finally lets you go, he steps closer, “Ready to go?”

JJ looks at you, the concern in his eyes clear. "I gotta head to work. Do you want a ride home? It's on the way.”

You glance at Rafe, then back at JJ, sensing his reluctance. “No but thank you.”

JJ’s shoulders tense, but he nods, trying to hide his disappointment. "Alright. Just... call me if you need anything, okay?"

You smile, appreciating his concern. "I will. Drive safe."

He nods again, glancing one more time at Rafe before getting into his truck and driving off. You watch him go, knowing that things are still far from being okay between the two of you.

You know he’s never going to change his opinion about Rafe, maybe not until he witnesses the changes in him, but you hope that one day they’ll find some common ground. It’s a lot to ask from your brother, you know that, and it’s why you never push him. 

“You sure you’re doing okay?”

You nod, leaning into Rafe now that he stands behind you, “Yeah, just a little tired.”

He wraps an arm around your shoulders, guiding you towards his car, “Did you get any sleep last night?”

"Barely," you admit. "Just couldn't stop thinking about today.”

He unlocks the car, opening the passenger door for you. "Well, now that it's done, you can rest. I’ll even put that bullshit show you like.”

You gasp ready to punch him in the shoulder, but by the time you turn he’s already on the other side of the car, “Love Island is not a stupid show!”

He chuckles as he starts the engine. "If you say so.”

“You watch it too.”

“Only because you force me to,” Rafe counters, a playful glint in his eyes.

It’s been a month since the nightmare with your dad, and you’ve pretty much been living at Rafe’s new place ever since. Sure, you’ve got your own house, but it just doesn’t feel like home anymore. Rafe’s apartment though? It’s like your little safe haven now. You don’t officially live there, but who are you kidding? Most of your stuff is in his drawers, he’s stocked the bathroom with all your skincare, hair stuff, even a toothbrush. He tried to go all-out, buying you everything, and you kept telling him to stop, but it’s like talking to a wall. You gave up eventually.

As he pulls out of the parking lot, his hand slides over to grab yours. It’s such a simple thing, but it makes the tight feeling in your chest ease a little. You’re both quiet for most of the drive, but it’s not awkward or anything. It’s actually kind of nice. You never imagined he’d be so...attached. Things between you are still...somewhat undefined, but it definitely feels like a relationship. That thought is pushed to the back of your mind for now. It's just not the right moment to talk about it—not with his father’s trial only weeks away and your own dad still recovering in the hospital.

When you pull up to his apartment, the building feels familiar in a way that makes your stomach flip. He hops out of the car and, as usual, rushes around to open your door for you. It’s such a small thing, but it always makes your heart race.

Once inside, the place feels so different from the craziness of the day. It’s cozy, warm, and just... safe. You kick off your shoes and flop onto the couch, sinking into the cushions.

“Wanna watch your show?” Rafe asks, giving you that half-smile you’ve come to love.

You chuckle, feeling lighter than you have all day. “And you say you don’t love it.”

He grabs the remote and turns on the TV, navigating to the show. As the familiar theme song starts playing, you snuggle closer to him, finding comfort in the routine. It's all trashy drama and ridiculous contestants, but it’s the distraction you desperately need. Rafe’s arm stays around you, like always. But as the episode progresses, your eyelids grow heavy. The events of the day, combined with the sleepless night, catch up to you. You feel yourself drifting off, your head resting against Rafe’s chest, his heartbeat a steady rhythm lulling you to sleep.

“Rest, baby,” he murmurs, his voice a soothing whisper. “I’ve got you.”

Next thing you know, you wake up to the smell of something cooking. Blinking your eyes open, you realize Rafe’s in the kitchen, and the living room is dimly lit. A blanket slips off your shoulders as you sit up, and when you look over, he’s already smiling at you.

You’ve seen him smile more times over the past month than all the years you had “known” him combined. It looks good on him, makes him look younger. 

Stretching, you ask, “What’s all this?”

“Dinner. Figured you could use a good meal,” he says casually, like it’s no big deal that he’s cooked for you.

You sneak up behind him and wrap your arms around his waist. “Look at you, Chef Rafe.”

Ever since he moved in on his own, he’s been slowly learning how to take care of himself. You’ve caught him watching cooking and deep cleaning videos more times you can count. You find it endearing. It makes your chest ache, in a good way, to watch him slowly turn into his own person, not the Rafe his father shaped him to be.

He chuckles, giving you a quick forehead kiss. “Eat before it gets cold.”

You sit down, and the first bite has you practically moaning. He snorts at your reaction, but you can tell he’s proud of himself. As you eat, though, you notice he seems a little off. His shoulders are tight, and there’s something in his eyes that makes you pause. You reach across the table, placing your hand over his.

"What is it?”

“Nothing.”

“Rafe. What’s wrong?”

He hesitates, then sighs. “Got a call from my lawyer. About Ward.”

The mention of his dad sends a chill down your spine. “What about him?”

Rafe’s thumb brushes your knuckles as he looks down. “He wants to talk.”

“Do you want to talk to him?”

Rafe's jaw tightens, and he lets out a slow breath. “Yeah. But every time I’ve tried to stand up to him, it’s backfired."

You squeeze his hand, “He can’t hurt you anymore, you know that, right? You're not the same person you were before," you remind him gently. "You've grown so much, Rafe. You’ve made your own life."

He looks up at you, his gaze softening. The intensity in his eyes is clear—vulnerability, determination, and a deep-seated fear. It's as if he’s silently pleading for your reassurance, for the strength to face his demons.

“You think so?”

It's in the way his eyes become softer when they meet yours, the slight quiver in his lips, the way he holds your hand just a little tighter.

“Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

“Okay. I…I’ll think about it.”

The two of you finish dinner, the conversation shifting to lighter topic. After cleaning up, you find yourselves back on the couch, the TV playing quietly in the background. 

Everything feels so domestic it pulls at your heartstrings. And it hits you how much you love this, just being here with him.

But you can still feel the tension rolling off him. You turn to him, tracing little patterns on his chest. “You’re still worried, huh?”

He sighs, throwing his head against the cushions, his hand coming up to rest on yours. "Yeah. I’m scared talking to him will pull me back into that dark place.”

You press a kiss to his clothed chest. “You won’t go back there. Not while I’m here.”

He tightens his hold on you, “You know you’re too good for this world. It’s ridiculous.”

You narrow your eyes, “Am not.”

“Yeah, you are, Pretty Maybank.”

There it is. That nickname. “You know that’s so stupid, right?”

He grins, completely unbothered. “You love it.”

You nudge him with your elbow. “I tolerate it.”

He catches your hand, bringing it to his lips for a soft kiss. “Fits you perfectly.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the grin tugging at your lips.

“If you say so.”

His eyes soften as he looks at you, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your hand. “I do.”

“Shup up,” You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks. “Don’t even know how you came up with that shit.”

Rafe laughs, the sound low and rumbling, his hand moving to rub your leg.  “It’s really stupid.”

You raise an eyebrow, teasing. “’Course it is.”

“Remember when we were fourteen, and we were both at the beach for that huge surf competition? You were this cocky, skilled little girl with an ego bigger than the waves.”

“And you were a suck-up mother—"

“Anyways,” He rolls his eyes, ignoring the way you tried to cut him off, his hand now lightly squeezing your knee, “You were out there showing off, catching wave after wave. I was so fucking annoyed."

You raise an eyebrow, giving him a skeptical look. “Oh, so you were secretly in awe of me?”

“Maybe,” he admits with a sheepish grin. “Or maybe I was just bitter because you made me look bad.”

“I made everyone look bad.”

“Okay, Gabriel Medina. You were out there showing off, making everyone watch you like you owned the ocean. All the boys were ogling you, calling you pretty, and you were loving every second of it.”

You smirk, remembering the day. "I was pretty good, wasn’t I?”

“Good?” He snorts, shaking his head as his fingers trail up and down your thigh. “You were more than good, you were unreal.”

"Yeah, yeah, so how does that tie into the nickname?”

“You came out of the water, hair all messy, sand on your skin, but you had this huge smile. One of the boys called you 'Pretty Maybank,' and you just laughed, brushing it off. But I— I guess I remembered it. It fit you.”

You blink, momentarily thrown off, "I...I didn’t know you remembered that."

“You’re kinda hard to forget Maybank.”

Your heart flutters at his words, the sincerity in his voice making it hard to breathe, “Shut up.”

He leans in, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss, his hand cradling the back of your head. It only lasts a few seconds, before you’re pulling away, mumbling against his lips.

 “You know, it’s funny. Back then, I thought you were just this arrogant piece of shit who was always trying too hard to fit in.”

“That’s so sweet.”

You cup his face, brushing your thumbs across his cheeks, “Hmm. You were always showing off, too.”

“Well,” he drawls, pulling you a little closer, his arms wrapping around your waist, “We both grew out of that phase. Mostly.”

“Mostly,” you agree with a grin. “But I guess some things never change.”

“Yeah,” He doesn't take his eyes off your face, “Some things don’t change. 

There’s a brief silence, filled with the quiet sound of the TV and the comfortable presence of each other. His fingers continue to trace patterns on your hand, and you can feel his earlier stress easing if only a little.

“I don’t want to mess this up,” He admits quietly, “With you.”

“We’ve come this far, haven’t we?”

Rafe’s fingers gently brush a strand of hair behind your ear, “Yeah, we have.”

“I’ll keep you in check, Cameron.”

He holds you tighter, his breath mingling with yours. “You're too good for me, y’know that?”

You laugh, “I know.”

Before you can react, his fingers are dancing across your sides, tickling you mercilessly. You squeal, wriggling and trying to escape his grasp, but he’s relentless.

"Rafe!” You gasp between fits of laughter.

"Say sorry,” he demands, his fingers still working their magic.

"Never!" you manage to choke out, tears of laughter streaming down your face.

He grins wickedly, the movement driving your tummy insane.

"Wrong answer."

You squirm in his grip, the tickling intensifying. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry!" you finally relent, breathless and giggling.

Rafe stops, his hands coming to rest on your waist. His grin is triumphant, but there's a softness in his eyes that makes your heart skip a beat. "That's what I thought," he muses, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead.

You catch your breath, still smiling. "You know, for someone who's supposed to be a tough guy, you’re surprisingly good at this domestic stuff."

He chuckles, pulling you closer until you're nestled against him.

"What can I say? You bring out the best in me, Pretty Maybank."

"I like this," you admit softly. "Being here with you, just... us."

"Me too," Rafe murmurs, his hand gently stroking your hair. "Feels right, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, it does.”

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Three weeks later, Rafe finally agrees to visit Ward in prison.

His lawyer arranged the meeting, emphasizing the importance of having this conversation to find closure. Despite your protests, Rafe insisted on doing this alone. Plus, prison's security measures are stringent, and there’s no way you could accompany him inside.

Instead, you’re stuck waiting outside, the anxiety killing you slowly. You're sitting on a bench outside the high-security prison, your foot tapping nervously against the ground.

The sun is blazing, making the wait even more unbearable. You wish you could be in there with him, supporting him. You glance at the ugly building, feeling desperate to get the hell away. Your phone buzzes, snapping you out of your thoughts. It’s a text from JJ.

"how's it going?"

You quickly type back.

"he just went in. kinda losing my mind out here."

"he’ll be okay. devil spawn and all yk".

"not helping???"

"my bad sis, just trying to lighten the mood. seriously though, he's got this."

You sigh, putting your phone down and glancing around the barren surroundings. The high walls and barbed wire of the prison seem to loom even larger now. Time drags on, every minute feels like an hour. You find yourself looking at the entrance every few seconds, hoping to see Rafe walk out.

Inside, Rafe is led through a maze of corridors, the echo of his footsteps bouncing off the cold concrete walls. The guards are stoic, their faces expressionless as they guide him to the visitation room. His heart pounds in his chest, but he forces himself to stay calm, to stay focused. He's going to be just fine.

When he finally walks in the room, he sees Ward already seated, the older man looking surprisingly composed. Of course he'd care about his appearance even when he's locked up. There's a glass partition between them, with phones on either side for communication. Rafe sits down, picking up the phone with a shaky hand. He wishes you were here. 

Ward's eyes are piercing as they lock onto Rafe's. "Look who finally decided to visit," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "Took you time, boy."

Rafe takes a deep breath. This is it.

"Only came to tell you something."

Ward raises an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair. "Oh? And what's that? That you’re an ungrateful piece of shit?”

Ignore him, your voice echoes in his head. He knew Ward was going to try to get a rise out of him and he hates that it might work.

"I'm done," Rafe says, his voice steady. "You don't control me anymore."

“After everything I've done for you?"

Rafe's grip on the phone tightens. "You didn't do shit for me. You did it for yourself."

Ward leans forward, his eyes narrowing. "You have no idea what you're talking about, boy. You need me."

"No, I don't," Rafe retorts, “No one needs you.”

Ward's eyes flash with anger, but he quickly masks it with a calculating smile. "Is that what you really think, son? That you can just walk away from everything? From me?"

Rafe feels a rush of anger fighting it's way up his throat, but he holds it back, remembering your words. He takes another breath, steadying himself, “I don’t care.”

Ward's smile fades, replaced by a sneer. "You think you're so strong now, don't you? Do you think you can survive out there without my influence? The world is a cruel place, Rafe. You won't last a day. You think that Maybank trash is gonna solve all your problems, huh?”

“You’re not getting under my skin.”

Ward's eyes narrow further, and he leans in closer to the glass, his voice dropping to a whisper. "So, it’s about her now, is it? What makes you think she’ll be any better for you than I was? She doesn’t know you like I do."

Rafe’s temper flares, but he forces himself to stay calm. He can’t take the bait.

"Keep her out of this.”

“You think you’re so righteous, so superior. You’ll need more than just some girl to get you through.”

“I don’t need you,” Rafe insists, his voice firm. “I never did.” 

Ward’s expression turns cold once more, but there’s a flicker of something—maybe regret, maybe just a reflection of his anger. “You can pretend you’re free, but you know I’m not so easily forgotten.”

Rafe takes a deep breath, forcing himself to stay composed. “I don’t need to hear anything else from you. I’m done.”

“You won’t be able to keep her safe.”

He knew the conversation wouldn’t be longer than five minutes.

He stands up abruptly, the phone clattering against the partition as he drops it. He doesn't need to hear Ward any more. He turns his back on his father and walks out of the room, the door clanging shut behind him. As he walks back through the maze of corridors, his thoughts turn to you, knowing you’re outside overthinking and ready to hug the live out of him. 

He’s striding to you the moment he sees you. You're still on the bench, trying to distract yourself with your phone, but it’s no use. You jump up, rushing over to him. You’re always so endearing to him it pains him to know he hurt you so badly over the years.

“You okay?”

Rafe’s arms wrap around you, finally breathing normally. His breath is warm against your ear as he whispers, “Yeah. I’m okay.”

You wrap your arms around him, holding him close as if you can protect him from the Ward’s harshness. “I was going crazy waiting out here.”

“Sorry for making you wait,” Rafe murmurs, his voice muffled against your shoulder. 

“I don’t care,” You pull back slightly, your hands moving to cup his face. Your fingers trace the lines of his jaw, feeling the faint stubble beneath your touch, “You did what you needed to do. And I’m proud of you.”

He smiles a small, tired smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, “Needed to hear that. Thank you.”

You nod, your thumb brushing against his cheek. “For what?” you ask, leaning into him again. “You did great, baby. You stood up to him. That takes so much strength.”

You take his hand, your fingers intertwining with his as you lead him away from the prison. His grip is strong, his palm warm against yours. The two of you walk in silence for a moment, the only sound the gravel crunching beneath your feet. You glance at him, noting the way his shoulders have relaxed a litte.

“I felt it. Like a weight lifting off me. It’s not completely gone, but it’s lighter.”

You stop walking, turning to face him fully. Your free hand reaches up to brush a strand of hair from his forehead. It had grown so much over the past few weeks. “And it’ll keep getting lighter,” you assure him. 

“You think?”

“I know. You’ll keep needing to stand up to him,” you acknowledge, “But it will get easier each time.”

His hand brushes a stray hair from your face, copying your earlier movement. “And you’ll be here with me?”

“Always.”

Rafe’s expression softens, the hard edges smoothed away by the promise in your words. He leans in, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

His lips linger there.

“You really are too good for me,” he murmurs against your skin, the sound blending with the hum of the car engines in the distance.

“I know.”

He pulls back slightly, his eyes searching yours. The intensity in his gaze takes your breath away, but it’s a different kind of intensity than you’re used to seeing in him. It’s softer, more open, and entirely focused on you.

“Let’s go home."

You nod, a smile spreading across your face. “Yeah, let’s go home.”

[oneemasan]

"I... don't need a wish today - Being with everyone is enough."

Fairytale soiree event by @angelwishess - congatulations on 100+ followers and thank you for hosting the event, i had a lot of fun!!

this is my first time joining a fan event (and drawing an actual card for erice), design notes & clear file under the cut!

jfdghsfgjjksghfdj i didn't think i would have time to draw erice for the event any time soon, but for some reason i didn't feel like working on any of my wips today so i painted the background to relax a bit (and warm up) aaaand ended up with the card done 4 hours later - well, why not!

at the very beginning i wasn't even planning an actual background, but hey whatever happened happened alright (besides, i planned it as a r/sr, and then realized i was having a lot of fun rendering - but not enough motivation for a dynamic pose... we got an in between, i guess?)

at some point, i added firefly everywhere, and the piece ended up looking SO cluttered..... so i erased all of them except the one she's holding - and i feel like i lost a bit of what i wanted to convey, but it looks better than it did before, so it's fine!

on one side, i wish i spent more time polishing the pose, etc, on the other, damn i wanted this done today

actual design notes fr fr this time

my first thought was the yellow dress, and i was almost sure i'd go with it but still decided to do some other sketches for fun - and in case another idea popped up i don't usually ramble too much about her lore outside of dms, but the thing with erice is that she very likely doesn't believe this kind of outfit/event would suit her - since she's a bit more... brash than she'd like, among other things (read : as much as she wishes she could wear fancy dresses, she definitely doesn't feel comfortable doing so because of her usual temperament/sweet self esteem issues, kind of), so upon wearing such a dress she would probably go "wait, this is wayyyy too delicate for me, i need to change back into my usual clothes NOW"

so, i ended up going for the simple white, knee-length dress thinking it was what suited her the best - and here came another problem : it does look the right mix of formal and simple for her, but it very definitely doesn't look fairy-like, at all... at the same time, i wanted to keep the shape, to keep it simple - to have something she would enjoy wearing that would still fit the theme, so i added a butterfly pattern and transparent fabric over the dress - cute and simple enough that she can enjoy herself without worrying too much about how mismatched she thinks her looks and personality are... my daughter she's so precious to me

while i was drawing the actual piece, i ended up adding a bonus layer to her skirt because it looked a bit empty without it - it also helps making the dress shape look more.... logical lol

[mendeshoney]

rough ride, hold on tight

a/n: this is a part three to "a taste of the devine," and you can read part one here and part two here! this is all because of @smileysvech and her moodboard. gif is courtesy of @pyotrkochetkov because I think it contributes to remind you all how broad this man is, for absolutely no particular reason. title is from "railway" by bang chan of stray kids.

summary: andrei buys a new car, and you both take it out on a test drive.

word count: 8,680

tags: five year age gap, older woman x younger man, fluff, l-bombs, previously established dynamics (including msub x fdom dynamics, switch, mdom x fsub dynamics - in this fic, mainly mdom x fsub, andrei is a pleasure dom/service dom if you can't tell), smut, morning sex, oral sex, drool/spit kink, car sex and therefore semi-public sex, penetration, finish inside, unprotected sex

Russian terms used (bearing in mind the author does not speak Russian and definitely Google’d these) can be referenced here.

***the events in piece this are pure fiction and are potentially dangerous, therefore please drive responsibly (ya filthy animals)

You purse your lips, eyes flicking up between Andrei and his sheepish smile, and back toward the brand new cherry red Lamborghini Urus sitting in the driveway behind him. It's sleek, shining in the Raleigh sun, and the sparkle of the rims in the afternoon light screams dollar signs back at you.

You absolutely do not sigh.

The only reason you recognize the car is because you’d seen Andrei looking it up on his phone a few times over the last couple of weeks, and now that it’s in front of you, you don’t know how you didn’t put two and two together before. 

From where you stand inside your shared three car garage, your Range Rover rests on your right, and Andrei's black Mercedes S-Class and his green BMW sit in the other two spots to your left. 

Andrei’s new toy is definitely not going to fit in here. 

"I traded my other Lambo in for this one," he explains, the smile impossibly wide on his lips.

"Who is it for?" You ask, though you don’t know why, considering it’s obvious, and Andrei flashes you a kilowatt smile.

"It's mine!" He exclaims. "You can use it too, obviously, if you want to. You can use any of my cars, you know that." 

You hum noncommittally, glancing at the car again, then back at your clearly very excited boyfriend.

"Well?" He asks, antsy, practically bouncing on the heels of his feet.

"It's really nice, malysh." You say honestly, because it is a very nice car, despite being far less discrete than the other two sitting next to you. It's also subtly flashier than his last one, and certainly more roomy. His old Lambo was a classic two-door, two-seater deal.

At least this one has a backseat.

"But...?" He asks, taking a step closer to you. 

You shrug, welcoming him when he wraps his arms around your waist. "Does Daniel know?"

Andrei scrunches his nose. Daniel's his accountant, who Andrei is usually good at calling before he makes big purchases like this. "It wouldn't be here if I didn't call him."

You pinch his side lightly, "Don't get sassy, I'm just making sure."

"I'm not," he protests, the slight whine in his voice not going unnoticed. "But you don't like it."

You frown, shaking your head, "That's not true, I said it was really nice."

"That doesn't mean that you like it." Andrei points out.

Carefully, you withdraw from his embrace and lean back against the door of your Ranger Rover. You consider your words carefully, because you know what it means to him to be able to spoil you, his family, and himself. But this is...well, kind of a lot. 

He surprised you with the Range Rover for your birthday, which you had been eternally grateful for - your thighs throb a little with the memory of just how thoroughly you'd thanked him for it - but that was only a couple of months ago. 

And a month before that - when you agreed to move in together as opposed to continuing the long sleepovers at the other's house - he'd moved the two of you into your current home. It had a three car garage, huge backyard, and a master bedroom with the most ridiculously large bathroom you'd ever seen in your life.

So this was a bit…well…

You weren’t the kind of person who dictated how others lived their lives or spent their money. And it wasn’t like Andrei didn’t have money.

But, you remember a conversation the two of you had early on in your relationship. Andrei held you tight in his arms as you lounged on a chair by his pool, gazing at the stars as his fire pit kept you both warm. He’d told you about his upbringing, about the things his parents did and how much they sacrificed for him and his brother to keep them safe so that they’d be able to pursue their dreams.

He told you about what it was like to feel the want for things, both out of survival and desire. He told you about how being in the position he was in empowered him to give back to his family and to himself to make sure he never felt that want ever again.

So…

While you understood all of that, the shiny new car in front of you still gives you pause. 

“As long as you’re happy,” you say, “then I’m happy with it.”

Andrei stares, considering the - what you hope is neutral - expression on your face. Whatever he sees there doesn’t convince him though, so he pulls you back to him, looping his arms around your waist and pressing his lips to your forehead.

“You trust me don't you?” he asks. 

You're nodding without a second's worth of hesitation. "Of course I do."

"Then I'll show you it's worth it."

You’re not entirely sure what he means, or how he plans on doing that, but you nod anyway, tilting your head back so you can kiss the sharp angle of his jaw. “Okay, malysh. But you’d better park that new ride in the garage. You can move my car into the driveway.”

~

There’s a delicate caress to your waist that coaxes you from your mid morning nap, followed by gentle kisses that trace the line of your jaw, then neck. 

You stir, exhaustion still running rampant in your body, shifting to lay on your back.

"Kroshka," Andrei murmurs. You feel when he makes his way under the covers, lifting up his shirt that you wore to bed to expose your bare lower half.

He carefully rests your thighs over his shoulders, placing kisses to each as he goes, before you feel a kiss to your sternum, your belly, and then a kiss to your core, before he hums to himself, content. His hands rest on your waist, fingers gripping your body in a way that anchors him to you.

His tongue is warm and gentle against your skin when he takes his first taste, and you stir a little more, back arching in a stretch.

Andrei makes a soft noise to calm you, reassure you, and you smile, hands disappearing under the covers. Your fingers tangle in his hair, and you can feel when he smiles against you. He tilts his head to meet the touch of your other hand, where you gently caress his cheek, thumbing against his jaw. 

"My love," you say sweetly, and he presses a kiss to your palm.

"My love" he says in turn, turning back to your pussy. You welcome the open mouthed kisses he presses there, the long and filthy licks he gives you in between, moaning when he sucks your clit into his mouth, rubbing his tongue against it in a way that makes you dizzy.

You arch into his mouth, both hands diving into his hair as you giggle, scratching gently at his scalp. 

"Won't you come up here and kiss me properly?" You tease, tugging lightly at the strands before your hands fall to your sides.

He laughs, pressing noisy kisses to your skin. Andrei wiggles dramatically, your thighs still draped over his shoulders as his head pops out from under the covers, body bending you in half a little. His hair is a mess from your hands, lips pink and wet, smile dazzling you.

You can't help but think of how cute he looks like this.

"Hi beautiful." He says, eyes crinkling with his smile.

You return his smile with a bright one of your own, arms reaching out for him. "Hi handsome.”

“Have a good nap?” 

You nod, “I did. Can I have a kiss?"

He goes to you, eager as always. Your arms wrap around his neck, fingers dancing at his nape. His kiss is soft, gentle at first, like he’s coaxing you to fully wake up, drawing the exhaustion from you with his mouth. Your lips fit together like puzzle pieces as they move, exchanging delicate kisses back and forth as the mid morning sun creeps in through a small gap in the curtains.

It’s not long before you’re more awake, more aware of the fire pooling in your belly, and your tongue teases at the seam of his lips, turning your kisses dirty in an instant.

You moan when you can taste yourself on his lips, head going dizzy. He moves his arms, allowing your legs to drop from his shoulders so you can wrap them around his naked waist.

You lock your ankles at the small of his back, arching into him, pussy rubbing against his hard cock. He’d worn briefs to bed, and after you two went for a run this morning, then came back to shower and eat breakfast, he’d changed again, and was definitely dressed before your nap, but had clearly shed them before he decided to wake you.

Little shit. 

You’re usually sensitive in the mornings anyway, so when his cock brushes against your folds, Andrei grinding himself against you, and your nipples brush against the fabric of your sleep shirt as you press against his bare chest, you feel yourself getting wetter, mouth dropping open in a whine.

He makes the already filthy kiss filthier when he slips his tongue in your mouth, caressing it against your own, almost massaging it. You reciprocate, and he takes you by surprise when he sucks on your tongue, Andrei moaning in approval.

The noises his mouth makes as he sucks on your tongue echo in your brain, bouncing around the edges and intensifying the haze of arousal. Andrei presses his hips tighter against you, the slide of his cock up and down along your pussy getting easier and more slippery with each passing second.

The haze clears for a second when you feel the head of his cock catch at your entrance, and your hands trail from the back of his neck to his shoulders, pushing at him. He parts from you with a small dissatisfied noise, breathing heavily through his nose as he gazes down at you.

“Are you going to be good for me, shchenok?” You murmur, one hand coming up to cup his chin, thumb gently rubbing against his bottom lip.

He nods, pressing a kiss to the pad of your thumb.  

"If you make me come," you start, sugary sweet. "You'll get a reward today."

Andrei's eyes flutter shut, turning his mouth to suck lightly on the tip of your index finger, tongue delicately licking at the digit. Your finger slips out of his mouth when you pull your hands away, resting them down at your sides again.

Nothing else needs to be said as Andrei wiggles his way back under the covers, settling back between your thighs and resting them on his shoulders. His mouth latches onto your pussy without preamble, tongue dragging up through your folds to taste you before the tip of it flicks against your clit. He repeats this a few times, and it draws a pleased high pitched noise from you, arching yourself closer against his mouth.

His tongue dips into your entrance and you keen out, his name leaving your lips in a breathy moan. He rests his forearms across your abdomen, pushing down just a little to anchor you to the bed, fucking his tongue in and out of you, burying his face into your pussy, nose brushing against your clit.

"Shchenok," you sigh, lifting the hem of your shirt a little higher. You wiggle your hips, trying to ease his grip on you so you can take what you want, but he's too strong, too focused and too pussy-drunk to do anything except reach up, cupping your tits in his hands and squeezing, his arms pressing down against your stomach so he can continue fucking you with his tongue, burying his face against you, stimulating your clit with gentle bobs of his nose.

You can feel your orgasm approaching quicker than you expected, and you give into it fully, hands descending back into Andrei's hair and gripping at the strands when you come, thighs tightening around his head as your body shakes, a cry of relief tearing from you throat and echoing around the bedroom. Andrei groans at the taste of your release, lapping you up and cleaning you up with his mouth at the same time. 

After you've had the chance to calm down and catch your breath, you're quick to throw the covers back, taking in his flushed appearance and thoroughly mused hair. He climbs up your body a little, resting his head on your chest and his hands at your ribcage as you comb through his hair lightly, trying your best to tame it. 

"Happy, kroshka?" He asks, lips brushing against the bare skin of your breasts. 

"Always," you nod, pushing a happy sigh through your nose. “Do you need-”

He shakes his head. “No, I’m alright.” 

You nod. Andrei’s always been the giving type, good about not always expecting things back, but even more so the longer you two stay together.

You also did promise him a reward for later, so you suppose him holding off right now isn’t so bad.

He squeezes you, burrowing his face further into your chest. "I love you so much, you know that?" 

You smile, squeezing him back. "I do, Drei. I love you too."

You can feel his kilowatt smile more than see it, and your heart pounds behind your ribcage. You hear him hum to himself, which is his telltale sign that he's got something on his mind. So you wait him out, let him gather his thoughts. 

"Will you go somewhere with me today?" He asks finally, fingers dancing gently where they rest on your sides. It tickles a little, causing you to squirm, and it makes Andrei laugh, pressing a small kiss to your skin in apology.

"I'll go anywhere with you," you say honestly, and mean it. 

There are moments more often than not lately, especially now that you'd been together a little over a year and a half, where you felt like you two were never going to get out of this “honeymoon phase.” Maybe it’s the domesticity of living together, maybe it’s how easy the two of you fell together, or maybe it’s the optimism for the future - either way, you’d go anywhere so long as you had Andrei at your side.

He smiles, kissing your sternum once before he’s carefully climbing off of you and off the bed. You notice the small wet patch on the front of his boxers and giggle.

It also still amazed you at how easily you could turn Andrei on, how he could come without touching you, how giving you an orgasm was enough to send him into his own. 

“Get dressed, kroshka,” he says, pointing at you with a mischievous smile. “Wear something pretty.”

~

About forty five minutes later you’re slipping into a sundress, grabbing your purse, and putting on your sandals as you head out to the garage, then stop the second you’re in the doorway.

The garage door is open, and you fully expect to see Andrei in the driver’s seat of your Range Rover, on his phone and waiting for you to go. Instead, your car is back in its old spot, and he’s leaning against his Lamborghini from where it sits in the driveway, his charming smile too hard to ignore.

You make your way out, locking the door behind you, and Andrei presses the garage door opener on his keys the second you’re in the driveway and in his arms.

“What’s this?” You ask, curling into his embrace.

At the hesitation in your voice, Andrei gives an easy shrug and a reassuring smile. “Thought we’d go for a drive. Maybe even along the coast.”

You raise an eyebrow at that. “The coast is two and a half hours away, Drei.”

“Good thing we have the right car to take us there then.” He wiggles his eyebrows, then makes a show of opening the passenger side door for you. “Your chariot awaits, kroshka.”

You take his outstretched hand, letting him help you into the passenger seat safely before he closes the door behind you. You take an appreciative look around as you buckle in, noting the sleek leather interior and the softness of the seat beneath you. 

Andrei climbs in, buckling himself up before starting the car, and you jump a little when the rumble of the engine reverberates even through your seat, vibrating beneath you.

…Interesting.

He smirks, putting on his sunglasses before driving away, and you settle in, relaxing in your chair as the car continues to rumble under you.

~

Andrei’s been driving for about forty five minutes when you start to get antsy.

The car practically purrs beneath you, Andrei maneuvering the luxury vehicle with a practiced ease. He looks ever so handsome in his fitted black shirt, the fabric sticking tight to his muscles and accentuating the hard work he’s been putting into his body over the off season. 

His jaw clenches when the road opens up in front of him, allowing him to press on the gas and send the car flying forward on the highway. The engine rumbles to life, the vibrations of the car getting stronger as you speed up, the other cars becoming a blur beside you.

The vibration rumbles against your skin, but particularly, between your thighs, and you find yourself turning your head toward the road, biting your lip to keep from making any noise. 

You were still sensitive from that morning and had been turned on since then by the wheels in your brain turning to figure out what Andrei’s reward would be for being so good, the anticipation of it all sending liquid heat through your veins. 

Andrei eventually slows down a little, speed plateauing, and the intense vibrations of the engine only dull down slightly. You can feel yourself getting wetter, and you end up squeezing your thighs together, trying to pass it off as nothing as you stretch your arms and then your legs, wiggling as you try to get comfortable in your seat. Your hands fall into your lap, right where the skirt of your dress rests, and you flex your fingers to stop yourself from lifting the fabric and rubbing against the cotton of your definitely soaked thong to get some reprieve.

He notices - because he notices everything about you - and rests a hand on your thigh, right above your knee, rubbing his thumb in gentle circles on your skin. “You okay, kroshka?”

You hum, nodding, trying not to focus on how warm his hand feels, how far it is from where you want him to be. “I’m okay, malysh.”

“Do you need me to take the next exit? Get food or anything?”

You want to say no, but you need a break from this goddamn car that you’re starting to think has been sent to drive you insane, so you nod instead, saying “Maybe, I think I just need something to drink.”

He nods, reaching for your hand where it rests in your lap. A little gasp almost escapes when his hand brushes against your lower belly, taking your hand in his and bringing it to his mouth to press a kiss to your knuckles, his other hand still on the wheel and driving expertly. 

It’s a few minutes to the next exit, but Andrei takes it smoothly, driving till he gets to a gas station. He doesn’t need to fill up the tank quite yet, so he follows you inside to get some drinks and a couple of snacks.

You head straight for the sugary stuff - taking your time as you browse to try and calm yourself into some semblance of normal. You go about grabbing some lollipops, sour strawberry belts, a couple of chocolate bars, a pack of M&Ms and some Skittles, before heading toward the soda fridge and grabbing a Diet Cherry Vanilla Pepsi. Andrei grabs his usual chips, an energy drink, some water, and a couple of packs of his favorite gum. 

Andrei usually travels with a cooler in his trunk, and he must have grabbed it before you headed out for your drive, because he also grabs a few ice cream bars and a bag of ice, before you follow him to the counter. He pays for everything, grabbing all of the bags so you can grab the receipt and get the door on the way out. 

You both eat an ice cream bar each in the car before Andrei gets back on the road, slowly picking up speed about ten minutes later. He’d loaded most of your cold items in the cooler in the backseat, save the two ice cream bars you ate, your Diet Pepsi, a cherry lollipop for him and you, and his water. 

He’s currently sucking on the lollipop while you quietly sip your soda, trying to focus on the lingering taste of vanilla ice cream and the cherry vanilla-esque taste of your drink instead of the heat that had been plaguing you earlier.

It works, but not for long, because soon the road opens up again and Andrei’s slowly pressing down on the gas, the engine purring to life beneath you. It’s like a rollercoaster, the way you can feel the vibration of the car slowly get more intense before it starts to rumble as Andrei reaches a higher speed.

This time, you’re not able to stifle the quiet moan that spills past your lips, and you immediately tense, clearing your throat to play it off as you put your soda in the cupholder, fidgeting in your seat.

Andrei notices.

Out of your peripheral vision, you see him turn his head to you, eyes no doubt curious behind his sunglasses, before turning back to the road. His hand returns to your knee, thumb resuming his rubbing in gentle circles as he speaks around the lollipop in his mouth.

“Kroshka?” He asks. “Are you alright?”

“Mhm,” you respond weakly, “‘M fine, Drei.”

When he doesn’t say anything back to you, you chance a glance at him yourself, and Andrei turns his head toward you, observing, before turning back to the road.

His hand squeezes your knee, and you know he knows. 

It’s probably all over your face at this point, and your stomach clenches when he smirks around the lollipop, control hanging on by a thread when his hand travels up your knee, higher and higher till it’s right below the hem of your dress. 

He flexes his fingers, the tips of them dancing on the insides of your thighs, and your teeth sink into your bottom lip, trying your best to tamp down the moan that threatens to spill over. Andrei speeds the car up suddenly, switching lanes, and the sudden rumble of the engine has your thighs squeezing together before you can register what’s happening, trapping Andrei’s hand there. 

You pry them apart only a second later, but Andrei makes a small noise of protest. 

“What’s got you like this, kroshka?” He says, lollipop tucked against his cheek. His lips are so red.

Shaking your head, you reach for your soda, taking another sip, letting the bubbles dance around your tongue to give you something else to focus on. When you put it back in the cup holder, Andrei’s hand moves from your thigh to your hand, bringing it to his mouth and wrapping your fingers around the stick of his lollipop, helping you guide it out of his mouth.

The candy leaves his lips with a soft “pop!” that nearly makes you dizzy, the sound going straight to your pussy in an almost painful throb. You can feel yourself getting wetter, the cotton of your panties probably soaked by now.

Andrei, careful as his eyes flick between you and the road, guides the lollipop to your mouth, gently pushing it past your lips to rest on your tongue. You see the way his throat works around a swallow, and you know what he’s probably seeing, imagining. Your lips wrapping around the head of his cock, sucking him like this stupid lollipop, lips bright red as his precum drips onto your tongue.

You make sure to purse your lips nice and pretty around the candy before his hand leaves yours, resting back on your thigh, squeezing once.

“Zajka,” he practically croons, his voice deep, teasing, taunting. It nearly makes your thighs squeeze together again. Instead, you try to shift a little in your seat to get comfortable again, but Andrei’s hand feels like a solid weight, keeping you still.

You pull the lollipop from your lips, the cherry flavor sticky against your lips. “Yes, malysh?” You answer.

God.

You’re shocked at the sound of your own voice, how fucked out it sounds, and that just about does it. The last grip on the control you maintained this morning is gone, slipping from your hands and right into Andrei’s lap. 

It’s not like Andrei never takes control in the bedroom. He does, and he’s damn good at it, but he revels in the moments where the control is in your hands, where he can do whatever he can to please you, to be told that he’s perfect for you, being so good for you.

But when the control changes hands, when he takes charge, he takes it firmly by the reins and relishes in it, makes you question why it’s not like this all the time. 

He looks at you briefly, his eyes tracing from the lollipop to your mouth, before glancing back at the road. You comply, slipping the candy past your lips to rest on your tongue, teeth biting down on the stick when you feel Andrei’s hands against your pantie clad pussy. 

A pleased noise rumbles from his chest, knuckles brushing against your clit. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

You nod, a muffled “mhm” coming from your chest. He puts a little pressure behind his hand, and though you don’t mean to, your back arches, thereby taking your lower half a little bit away from his touch, and his head snaps over to you, brow raised, the corner of his mouth turned down in a slight frown. 

The apology is on the tip of your tongue, but it’s too late, because he takes his attention away as well as his hand, and the loss of his touch is almost too much for you to bear, especially when he directs his attention back to the road, both hands gripping the wheel as he speeds up, the engine rumbling to life beneath you with a vengeance as the luxury car tears off down the open highway in front of you.

“You’re gonna have to be patient, zajka.” He says, voice toeing the line between stern and gentle. “I need to find somewhere for us to go so I can take care of you.”

“Mkay,” you murmur around the candy, squirming a little in your seat as the car vibrates under you once more.

Andrei laughs to himself. “I just got this car, baby,” he says pointedly, “and you’re already going to leave a wet spot?”

You say nothing, too overstimulated, too desperate for him to fight him or comment on his teasing. Between the car, Andrei’s not-enough touch, and this lollipop that you suspect was used to keep you occupied in the meantime, you’re halfway to delirious, panties soaked with arousal growing uncomfortable with each passing second. The purr of the engine feels nice, but it’s nowhere near enough to satisfy.

All it does is push you closer to the edge, but never allowing you to leap.

You can only let your eyes flutter shut as you rest your head on the window, trying to focus on your breathing, on the sticky candy in your mouth, resting on your tongue. You try to focus on anything and everything other than the luxury car sent from hell - the heat fluttering low in your belly, and Andrei’s heavy breathing from beside you. 

You’re not sure how much time has passed when you feel the car finally start to slow down, too lost in the haze to process anything. 

“Kroshka,” Andrei murmurs, and your eyes blink open, head turning to gaze at him. His voice is rough, the way it always sounds when he’s barely hanging on by a thread, and you squeeze your thighs together. 

Taking a look around outside, you notice he’s pulling up to a hotel with a tall parking garage, and as he pulls into the guest side of the garage, you raise an eyebrow.

Pulling the lollipop from your mouth, you ask “Are we staying here or something?”

Andrei shakes his head, using one hand to take off his sunglasses and toss it onto the dashboard before he grabs a ticket from the machine, pulling forward once the arm raises. You note that the garage seems mostly empty, so you turn your body to look at him curiously, taking another sip of your soda before pushing the lollipop between your lips again, watching as he passes all of the empty spots and continues up to the next level, then the next, until he gets to the roof.

He parks in a spot at the corner of the roof, one not in the eyeline of any of the rooms of the hotel beside the garage, or one that can be seen from the street. There’s a cement base to a tall street lamp that hides the front seat of his car, obstructing the two of you from the view of the rest of the parking spots up here.

Andrei turns to you then, leaning over the center console and gently pulling the candy from between your lips. He reaches behind your chair to the backseat and grabs the plastic bag from the gas station, tossing the candy inside and then tossing that bag in the backseat before he all but launches himself back at you, pulling you to him with a hand behind your neck and seizing your mouth in a bruising kiss that has you rising up to your knees, sitting back on your calves. 

A surprised noise leaves you before you moan into the kiss, loving the way his hand tangles itself in the hair at the nape of your neck, pulling your head back a little. It causes your mouth to open a little more, and Andrei takes full advantage, licking into your mouth rubbing his tongue against yours as his other hand snakes its way down your torso and into your soaked panties, Andrei passing your clit altogether and sinking two fingers into your soaked cunt, all the way down to the knuckle. 

“Oh!” You cry out, arching your body towards his, and a wicked grin crosses his features.

He’s the picture of arrogance, cocky as ever as he starts to work you open on his fingers, scissoring them this way and that but never curling to touch that sensitive part of you. The noises that his fingers make as he works are obscene, echoing around the car and mixing with the little whines you let out against his mouth.

Andrei breathes them in, his lips curling around your tongue as he sucks on it, the meat of his palm grinding against your clit and sending a fresh wave of arousal through your body, dripping onto his wrist. 

“Taste so good,” he says around your tongue, licking into your mouth. It’s so obscene, nasty as his spit and yours starts to trail down your chin, neck, onto your chest. He bends his head, licking it up before pushing it back into your mouth with his tongue, lips and tongue messy as he kisses you.

His fingers finally brush against that sensitive spot inside, distracted by your mouth, and you moan, grinding down on his hand only for him to grip your hair in his hand again, a warning that says “Behave” as he pulls you back just a little. 

“Naughty little zajka,” he says against your lips. “You say you hate my brand new car then rub your little pussy all over the seats when the engine purrs for you, hm?”

You shake your head in protest, mewling when Andrei drags your bottom lip between his teeth before he sucks on it, pressing messy wet kisses to the corner of your mouth, chin, lips, all over as you speak. “Never said I hated it, I - nghhh!” 

Your words die in your throat when Andrei starts to finger fuck you in earnest, the pads of his fingers rubbing against your g-spot each time as he fucks them in and out of you. 

“Show me then,” he taunts, “Show me how much you love it. Come all over the seat, zajka. Make a mess.” 

You shake your head - it’s too fast, the pressure’s just right and you’re aching for release but it’s too much too soon. Your orgasm is racing towards the finish line and you can barely catch your breath. You reach out to touch Andrei, hands landing on his forearms where you squeeze as his fingers bring you to the edge. 

“Can I come, malysh?” You plead, pushing the words out through stuttering breaths.

He nods, leaning forward to bury his face into the crook of your neck and suck a bruise there, his ministrations never stopping. His fingers practically beckon you to him, beckon your orgasm out of you in their insistent “come here” motion, and when Andrei drags his teeth against your skin, fingers pressing deep against your g-spot, your eyes squeeze shut, body seizing as stars burst behind your eyelids and your orgasm overtakes you, arousal dripping down Andrei’s fingers and through your soaked panties onto the seat below you.

You can distantly hear soft sobs as Andrei’s voice pulls you out of your daze, calling for you gently, and it takes you a long moment to realize that it’s you sobbing, tears of relief streaming down your face as Andrei’s fingers inside of you keep still while his other hand holds you steady. 

“So good for me, zajka,” he praises. “So beautiful. You did so good waiting for it, didn’t you? Waiting for me to make you feel better.” 

Your head feels heavy when you nod lightly, and Andrei waits till you come back down a little more before he carefully and slowly withdraws his fingers from you, careful to avoid your sensitive clit as he brings his hand out from where they’ve been in your now soaked cotton underwear.

You don’t see it when his eyes glance below you, at the wet spot on the chair, and he smirks, his broad chest somehow getting ten times bigger at the sight. 

You do see it when he sucks his fingers coated in your release between his lips, eyes fluttering open the moment he does so, watching with apt amazement as his eyes drift shut, lost in the taste of you. 

Carefully, you rise back to your knees, arranging yourself until you’re sitting normally again so you can slump against the seat. Your chest heaves as you breathe, trying to calm your racing pulse, ignoring the fact that despite how hard Andrei just made you come, your pussy still throbs between your legs when you hear Andrei’s fingers finally leave his mouth with a wet “pop!” 

It’s quiet, and for a moment you think he’s going to say something smart or cocky, tease you more, but instead, he leans over the console, hand reaching for the lever on your chair and pulling until your seat is pushed all the way back, leaving a large amount of room in the well under the dashboard in front of you. 

You could almost laugh, watching Andrei and his broad, tall body maneuver itself out of his chair and across the console until he’s on his knees in front of you, pulling your legs apart gently. His hands come up to your waist, pulling your soaked underwear off of you in one go, stuffing them into the pocket of his shorts before he’s reaching for your waist again, pulling you until you’re perched on the edge of the passenger seat.

He looks up at you with a fond smile, and you can only find the energy to peer down at him with a curious look, head still thick and dizzy with your recent orgasm.

“Gonna clean you up, baby.” Andrei answers your unspoken question, pressing his hands on the back of your thighs and pushing upwards.

He moves so fast that you can barely get out an “Andrei, baby, wait-” before he buries his face in your still wet pussy, tongue pushing into your entrance. 

Your back arches, mouth dropping open in a loud cry as your body unconsciously pushes your pussy further into his face, body wrought with overstimulation.

Between the time he spent between your legs this morning worshiping you with his mouth, and how he fucked you on his fingers just now, you’re more than overwhelmed, overstimulated, and spent, but you should have seen this coming. When Andrei gets like this, when he takes control, he’s prepared to wring orgasm after orgasm out of you until he gets too impatient and finally slides his cock into you to the hilt.

And lately, Andrei’s become very good at being very, very patient. 

He licks and sucks at you like a starving man, like he’s been stuck in the desert and you’re his first drink of water in days. His mouth is even more insistent than this morning, tongue alternating between lapping at you, circling around your clit, dipping inside of you, and his lips sucking you into his mouth, making you buck your hips into his face. Every time you do, he moans, the vibrations rumbling against your skin, and he ends up just yanking you impossibly closer to him, hands on your waist feeling like an anchor. 

You can feel your orgasm creeping up on you like a runaway train. It’s almost too much, too soon, but at the same time it’s never enough. 

Since you’ve been with Andrei, it’s almost never been enough. It’s why you both end up in this constant push and pull of control, patience, restraint, restricting yourselves to “just one” or “just one more,” putting limits on yourselves until the dam breaks and the two of you end up going at it for hours.

Afterall, you two became so addicted to one another from the very beginning. There had been ten whole days between the first…well, several times…and you two entering a relationship, thereafter which you spent two unbelievable days practically glued to his bed, his shower, and your favorite, his kitchen counter, which you spent at least thirty minutes cleaning once you’d come out of your horny stupor.

Whenever Andrei gets like this, near delirious with the need to please you before he can seek any kind of relief, it takes you right back to those two days spent in his bed, to the way he made you both physically and emotionally feel his desire for you.

Now, that desire is still there, but his love always overpowers it.

It’s what drives you straight over the edge when he dips his tongue inside of you then sucks on your clit, his name falling from your lips as your hands fall over his, fingers intertwining as you shake under his mouth.

When you’ve come back down, chest heaving as you try to get your breathing under control, Andrei licks at your pussy lazily, cleaning you up with his gentle and caring attention. 

You allow it for a few moments, until you realize there’s still a small fire in your belly, and you know Andrei’s probably as hard as a rock beneath his shorts.

So you squeeze his hands, offering a small smile when he looks at you. 

“I said you’d get a reward, didn’t I?” You say, and Andrei nods, tongue still gentle as he licks at you again. You gesture for him to come to you, so he does, rising up on his knees, resting the back of your knees on the crook of his elbows as he carefully bends you in half. He doesn’t waste another second before he brings his lips to yours, kissing you with all the desperation and desire he can convey.

You reach for his waistband, undoing his belt, the button, and the zipper before pulling the waistband of his briefs down. Andrei helps, not breaking away from your kiss as he shimmies his clothes down his thighs until his cock springs free, red and leaking against his abdomen. 

He bucks into your hand when you wrap it around his cock almost immediately, moaning into your mouth. His hands rest on either side of you gripping the cushion of your chair so tightly that his knuckles turn white at the force, every part of his body fighting to restrain itself from fucking his cock into your fist, especially when you make your grip that much tighter. 

“You wanna fuck me, baby?” You murmur, moaning in surprise when he licks into your mouth, body leaning into yours that much more.

“So badly,” he asserts, sucking on your tongue the second you lick into his mouth in return. He moans, all but drooling into your mouth. He’s so desperate, so lost in your kiss and earnest in his desires that it’s a little bit messy and a little bit uncoordinated, but Andrei doesn’t care and neither do you.

You pull your head back a little, and Andrei makes a small noise of protest. “You want to do it like this? Here?”  

He nods, trailing his lips to your chin, your jaw, and to your neck, his lips wet with your lingering arousal and spit. “Pozhaluysta,” he pleads, leaving open mouthed kisses at your nape.

You adjust your hips, lining him up with your entrance. His hips buck, restraint most likely breaking, and the head of his cock slips inside. 

The moan that echoes around the car belongs to both of you, and you can feel Andrei’s breath stutter against your neck. “S-Sorry, moya koroleva.”

You shake your head, hands coming up to cup his face, bringing him from his hiding spot in your neck to come face to face with you. Your eyes flutter shut, and you pull him closer to rest your foreheads together. “No need to be sorry, baby,” you murmur, squeezing around the head of his cock experimentally, smiling a little when you can hear him start to whine. 

“No games, Drei,” you promise, kissing him sweetly, sucking his bottom lip into your mouth, running your tongue over it gently before pressing little kisses to it. “Just you and me, okay?”

He hums against your mouth, chasing after your kisses even as he speaks. “No games?”

You shake your head gently, careful not to detach your lips from his. Andrei needs you too much to deal with the push and pull, and you’re still too needy to bother with it. You rub your thumbs against his cheekbones, murmuring against his lips when you say “I just want you.” 

The sigh of relief he lets out practically stutters past his lips, and you swallow it down, breath catching in your throat when he finally pushes in a little more. He groans low and deep in his chest, hands releasing the seat cushion and fitting themselves against your waist as he continues to push his thick, long cock inside until his pelvis is flush with your ass, the head of his cock close to kissing your cervix in this position.

You both physically relax when he bottoms out, and Andrei cups his hands over yours where they rest on his face. 

This is the kind of sex that Andrei loves having with you the most - the kind where you can both just lose yourselves in how good you both make each other feel, and how good it feels for you both to be able to please each other in a way that’s basically instinctual at this point. He loves being close to you, loves being attached to you in every way; buried inside you, lips attached to yours even if it’s just to kiss lazily, arms wrapped around you. 

A shiver runs through your body when you feel him throb inside you, and you tug at his bottom lip gently. “Please, Drei,” you plead on an exhale, only to inhale sharply a second later when Andrei pulls his hips back, only to drive them forward and bury himself deep inside once more.

He starts at a slow pace like that, withdrawing halfway to just push himself back in, jaw clenching when you squeeze around him each time he’s buried deep inside once more. He keeps his forehead pressed against yours, his hands resting over yours, keeps your knees tucked safely in the crook of his arms. When he buries himself deep, pressing almost tightly against your cervix, he exhales through his nose, shakily breathing in on his next inhale. 

A whine works its way out of your throat when he starts to pick up speed, still keeping the depth, still driving his cock in so deep that it hits that soft part inside of you that makes you see stars now each time he drives inside. It stokes the fire in your belly, pleasure rolling over you in waves.

When you squeeze down on him again he moans, low and deep, pushing a breath through his nose as he tries to keep focus, but he’s losing it so quickly. His hands finally fall from yours and grip onto your hips, setting a quicker pace, lighting you up from the inside out. 

The pressure and the drag is so good for both of you that moans and whines echo around his car, and your eyes roll back into your head, hands dropping from Andrei’s face to his forearms, fingers flexing uselessly, too weak and pleasure drunk to grip onto him tightly.

Meanwhile, Andrei feels like he’s going insane. It hasn’t been long since you’d both been intimate, and it hasn’t been long since you’d both been intimate like this, but it never mattered when it came to you. You lit something on fire inside of him, walked into his heart and his soul and turned on all the lights and settled in. It was almost laughable with how good you made him feel, about anything and everything, but especially this. 

He can feel a knot form at the base of his spine at the same time he starts to feel your pussy flutter and clench around him, the way your body wants to push him away and pull him deeper at the same time. Carefully, he tightens his grip on you and thrusts harder, a little faster, careful to keep you in place on his cock and not jostle you too much.

His car is definitely shaking with the force of his efforts, and the moans and whines falling from your lips start to get louder, dragging out as you both climb and race towards your orgasms. You tilt your chin up, eyes squeezed shut as your lips search for his. He captures them in a bruising kiss, groaning into your mouth as one of your hands reaches up weakly to cup his jaw. 

“I love you,” you manage to choke out, pressing the declaration to his bottom lip. “I love you so much.”

A low whine of relief echoes in his throat, and Andrei leans forward, burying his face in your neck, pressing your hips down as he fucks into you with reckless abandon. “Ya tebya lyublyu,” he grunts out against your neck, sealing his words with a kiss. “Ya lyublyu tebya bol'she vsego na svete.”

His confession takes you by surprise, and you gasp, spine arching as you come and pussy squeezing him so tightly that it’s almost painful for him as he fucks you through it, bullying his cock into you as he chases after his own orgasm. When he comes, he presses deep inside, leaning into you, and you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him as close as you can, your fronts pressed together.

Your heavy breathing fills the car, the silence echoing against your ears and making your head throb a little bit, but you hold tight to Andrei, feeling his chest heave against yours as he tries to get his breathing under control. He drops your legs after a moment, and you stretch them delicately behind him before locking your ankles at the base of his spine. 

“I like your car,” you eventually say. 

The silence that follows is brief, Andrei cutting it when he laughs out loud, and you can feel his teeth press into your skin with how wide he smiles from where he’s still hiding in your neck. He noses along the length of it, nuzzling that ticklish spot under your ear, and then presses a kiss there, whispering a soft thank you. 

He’s still weakly pulsing inside of you, and you willingly wait him out, content to just sit here with an armful of your doting boyfriend who just fucked you silly in the front seat of his stupidly expensive luxury car that secretly (apparently) doubled as a vibrator.

“There’s baby wipes,” he says eventually. “In the glove compartment. We can throw the wipes in the bag from the gas station.” 

You raise a brow. “Did you come prepared for this?”

He shakes his head, slowly pulling himself back to look at you. His face is flushed, pupils blown wide a little, gaze still slightly hazy. “Not completely, but I brought them just in case.” 

Carefully, he twists his upper body a little so he can turn and open the glove compartment, taking a few of the wipes out and turning back to you with a happy grin. You smile, pressing a quick peck to his lips. “My smart guy.”

Andrei chases after your mouth, and you let him catch you, savoring the delicate kiss he gives you. He presses three more to your lips. “Gonna pull out now, baby. Gonna clean you up.” 

You nod, fully relaxing back against the seat and unlocking your ankles from behind him. He carefully withdraws himself, and is quick to begin cleaning you up with the wipes when his come starts to immediately fall out of you. 

You’re not surprised at how much there ended up being - he had been pent up since the morning, after all. 

You reach behind you to where the plastic bag with your lollipop fell to behind his seat, and you hold it open for him as he deposits the wipes before tying it off and putting it back behind his chair. He carefully massages your legs, offering you a wolfish smile. 

“Should we keep driving?” He asks, “Or should I maybe book us a room here? Since we’ve basically commandeered the roof of their parking lot.”

You smirk at him. “Fucking in a Lamborghini not enough for you?”

“It’s never enough when it’s you,” he says. Even though it comes out playfully, you can hear the seriousness in his voice.

You reach out, running a hand down his front. “Let’s go home, actually. The coast can wait another day.” When he looks at you, confused, since he didn’t mention that as an option, you smile mischievously at him. “I want to suck your cock while you drive and see how many times I can make you come by the time we get home.”

He blinks at you, stunned, before he’s fumbling, pulling his briefs and pants up before all but launching him out of the passenger side of the car and racing back to the driver’s seat.

You can do nothing but grab the hair tie on your wrist and pull your hair into a ponytail, a content feeling running through your veins. 

You could definitely get used to having this car around.

[clubsmarties]

Eli smiled against her lips as she returned the kiss he had just given. There was no hesitation in reciprocating it. His hand cupped her face and pulled her close as he deepened the kiss for a brief moment. If this was what people called love, he wouldn't mind falling and break every bone in his body. The feeling was euphoric. Or maybe that was just Laurel. A soft chuckle escaped him as he dropped his hand and opened his eyes again to look at her. "I'm a man of many talents." His head nodded in acknowledgement. "They're the best but she's the one I watched grow up. She was the legit baby of the family. I cuddled her at night when she wouldn't settle. I think a big part of why her parents liked me was that I was the baby whisperer." Not only that but Emma understood him. Isa and Inez did too but they were different. Each sibling unlocked a hidden piece of what made Eli him. "You have a lot more hope for Chicago than I do. I think that is a nice sentiment but I think I'm done there. Visiting them is one thing but having a home, not really. That died with the parents." Again, Eli reverted to himself, the nomad having nowhere to call home. "Yes, really," he laughed. "I'd love to meet them. I am kind of curious to hear stories about you."

He felt for her but it wasn't pity. There was a longing there in her voice that told him that her mom wasn't a subject she liked going into but still would be willing to answer the question. Settling his hand over hers he smiled. "Sometimes people don't realize what type of diamond they have. They just see the dust and assume they're not worth much. Just because your mom had a harsher way to treat you doesn't mean you aren't worth it. Don't feel like you need to tone it down for me. I want you to be your unapologetic self." What he wanted her to take away from this was that he'd never make her change into something else to fit a mold she would never fit. "Mhm. I do like to learn. I like to get into something I've never done before. Cooking is one. Maybe we can come up with a new recipe."

An amused smile took over his features. "Fair enough. Drew you in." Lucky for him she even turned her head. "Pretty green eyes. I like it." Truly just because she said it. "Is that going to be your way to get my attention moving forward?" Amusement danced in his eyes as he leaned forward and chuckled thinking of the way everyone with colored eyes would turn if she did scream that out in the courtyard. "Definitely. I can't stand the heat. It makes me irritable. I don't like heatwaves." Now why did he pick Texas for his home would be something he'd never be able to explain but it felt like there was an inexplicable pull drawing him in to the blazing boot of a state.

"We can go together. Why not right? A cabin in the snow seems like we would both enjoy it." His eyebrows furrowed and a laugh was kept at bay as he realized she'd never had a real vacation. "Maybe we can change that. The winter break is coming up so why don't we head down to one of the National Parks and spend a day with nature. If you want to spend a day with me outside. I am a great nature guide." Eli slowly fanned his eyelashes and smirked. "Good to know you think nerdy is hot. Oh, you don't share is that it?"

"I might be trying to test your knowledge. See if any of those clap clap cheers stuck. Now, see that works well. I've got a few ideas on what we could do and since you're pretty confirmed to try something once then this should be easy." His mind had come up with multiple activities they could do and that already brought a smile to his face. "Company I can give. I'll bring at least one or two facts. It seems sad if there isn't something to learn." He took her hand and lead her out. Bag in the other hand and his hand holding one making sure they were locked. "Favorite color? Don't laugh but green. I like the color. It's nice and pretty. Place? Madrid. It is so vibrant. I'd love to go walk down their streets and eat their good food. You?" The shop wasn't too far from his dorm room which he was grateful for since he didn't want to keep walking so long. They reached his building and as he let go of her hand he took out his keys and opened his door for her to enter first. He dropped the bag of food on his desk, a neat pile of books and a laptop sitting on top and closed the door. 'Make yourself comfortable. If you want something to wear like a sweater take your pick. It gets cold here since I open the window. I'll be back."

He went to his closet and grabbed a blue sweater and sweats and his socks. After a five minute absence he came back out, hair outof his face and comfy clothes now on his person. "It's a thing we used to do. We don't sit with outside clothes on the bed."

Her smile couldn't be contained watching as he stood centimeters from her. Hiding how she felt and what she anticipated was not possible in any way or form. Laurel's eyes fluttered shut upon feeling those soft, lovely lips she had been hooked on from the start. "High praise, and you say I'm the one with the flirting skills," she teased, her hands cupping his face before pulling him in for a kiss of her own. The last two have been initiated by him, it was high time she give one to him. It's all she'd been thinking about for the last two weeks. "Hey, that night was great. No apology needed. I understand family, I just got it all mixed up. That's so sweet, being so close to your little sister." She zipped up her lips, "You're a great brother, and don't worry, I'll keep your secret." He had mentioned that last time, with that same sad tone. Chicago really was home, it seemed. "Well, for what it's worth, Austin is not that bad. It grows on you for sure, but don't say goodbye to Chicago. You never know where life could take you." Laurel was giddy at the thought of him meeting Julia and Aaron. Julia will be thrilled, especially when she was already such a big fan. "Wait, that's great! I love it, I'll let them know meeting you has made it to the itinerary."

It hadn't occurred to her that her answers had a deeper meaning somewhere in there, but she had said she was an open book. "I'll hold you to that," she said with a smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. His question had thrown her off for a second. "Yeah. My mom, when she was still around. She was always going on and on about being a bit much, which is fine. It makes sense, I suppose. It helped me learned to tone it down." Though, she supposed toning it down was debatable. "Really? You'd learn with me. That would be so much fun, and we'd get a new skill out of it. Hopefully, some good food too." The thought was intriguing - her mind already trying to think of how could they make this work. Maybe borrowing her dad's kitchen, because the communal kitchen in the dorm buildings wouldn't cut it. "True, but it's all you at the end of the day. Pretty green eyes," and just like that - new nickname unlocked.

Laurel happily listened to him talk about his family. Usually, the family talk bummed her out, only reminding her of the odd mess she had. But, hearing him was a breath of fresh air. His family just sounded so sweet, full of love. Hearing that kind of love envelop him comforted her, especially when she thought back to the melancholy in his tone now. "Fooled me, or drew me in?" Wasn't it all about perspective? "Both of them like dancing, sounds like I need to thank them for their hard work teaching you. So, you're a snow over heat kind of guy?" Yet, he ended up here. How amusing. "That sounds so relaxing, cabin for holidays. You'll have to let me know how it goes. To Aspen? Unfortunately, no because you make it sound so fun. When we did vacations, my mom was always picking the places, and it was New York or Paris. I was also a kid, so it was a lot of following her around during shopping trips and then spending time with some random caretaker while they went out. Once it became my dad and I, then we tried visiting the Grand Canyon and sprained his ankle, so vacation cut short. But, his job keeps him busy too, so vacations are not too fun." He did try though, and that effort was everything to her. "Oh, true. Nerdy can be hot though, still doesn't matter if it's others' favorite hobby. Just yours. A self-help book, to teach others to flirt with you? No, thank you. I'll politely decline," she joked with a wink in his direction.

Something in common made her feel excited, eager to discover what else they could have in common. The possibilities seemed endless, which only made it better. "Random hobbies, huh? I mean, I'll try anything once really," that was said with a shrug. Her curiosity had a tendency to lead her to the most odd roads. "Are you trying to test my knowledge? Maybe so, or maybe I don't, but I could just throw random moves together and you wouldn't even know the difference. I'd have to dig the pom poms out of retirement," she laughed at the thought, though her attention was drawn back to his words. Laurel had never thought of silence that way, but there was no way to say that without it sounding pitiful. "The first one sounds familiar, but I guess I haven't had much of that second option. It could also be because I can never be quiet." Deflecting with jokes, a fine option. "You are just checking off all my boxes - cooking classes and stargazing, I am too lucky. I will be taking you up on that offer! I don't need the facts, just the company." His company, more specifically. "Yes, sounds like a plan. I still need to see these awesome blankets you hyped up earlier." They'd covered a decent amount of things already in the getting to know you trail, but she was quick to think of other things. "Okay, favorite color and what's one place, anywhere in the world, that you've always wanted to visit?"

[lasandra]

Super Massive End Game Veilguard Spoilers Under the Cut!

Seriously. If you haven't finished playing Veilguard, DO. NOT. READ. So I finished DA:tV and I have been really trying to sort out my thoughts... And well...

Sdlkajshdfklajhsdfklajhsdflkjahsdklfjhaskldfjhaskldfhj I CAN'T!!! My dudes I am SO conflicted!!! Solas is the only character I have ever come across that I both love to pieces and want the best for him but I also want to beat him until he is a puddle of bruised yolk and cracked shells. This dude KILLED VARRIC FOR REALSIES! I am not okay with that. My Hawke's GOING to hunt him down when she finds out. If the Tevinter Magisters can get into the Black City then dammit so can she. And when she does, I am not sure even Lavellan can save him. Amelia (My Hawke) has lost so many of her friends/family/loved ones she can't handle this anymore. He also killed God's gift to elves Felassan. It's been over a decade since I read The Masked Empire but I don't remember there being a great reason other than him being upset that Felassan failed. Dude has GOT to stop killing his friends lol. Especially the hot ones. Like. Come on. As if that wasn't enough, he manipulated Rook. I love my first Rook (Carwyn de Riva) so much that I am STRUGGLING to play another playthrough with any of the other Rooks I had planned. To see that he manipulated her with blood magic... Stopped her from being able to mourn Varric with the others properly.... AND tricked her into that prison??? He didn't think she'd be able to get out. Luckily she had plot armor because if she hadn't gotten out I would find a way into Thedas to rip him apart myself. *Aggressive breathing noises* I feel very normal about this, obviously. Seriously though, guys, I came THIIIIIIIS close to tricking him with the fake dagger even knowing that Lanaya (my Lavellan) wouldn't have gotten her happy ending. JUST so I could see the LOOK on his face when he realized ROOK outplayed him at his own game! At the SAME time however... The idea of sending him into the Black City alone... hurts me lol! I don't want him to suffer. Dude has suffered a lot and honestly, I'm not entirely sure his being a friend-murdering ass is *entirely his fault... The longer I sit with everything, the more certain I am that Solas didn't really have a choice. Seems very much like he was sort of bound to the will of Mythal. Maybe I've missed something, I'm not as lore-savvy as I once was. But in the end when Mythal tells Solas that she releases him from her service and only THEN (NOT when Lavellan BEGS him to stop) is he willing to do the right thing? I don't know. It just reminded me SO much of his personal quest in Inquisition where his Wisdom Spirit friend had been bound and twisted against its purpose. If it works anything like what we saw in Inquisition with whoever drank from the Well of Sorrows, who's to say when something was him vs the will of Mythal? It could be a bit of a stretch but, there's certainly room for that interpretation, I think. And if that's the case, then he doesn't deserve the hell that awaits him. It's also the only interpretation I can really accept Lanaya still wanting to be with him. Varric was her friend too. While forgiveness is something I give freely, I cannot imagine reconciling with a man who did what Solas did without him having been essentially forced into doing it. *Sighs deeply* I saw the different versions of his endgame images... Shit man. The only way this man gets a happy ending is with Lavellan. Dude looks so miserable and gloomy in all the other endings. Moire (Trevelyan) was Solas' friend. She wouldn't want to send him off to be alone in such a terrible place. That would seriously eat at her. (Rook wouldn't care. Her give a damn was busted after he betrayed her for the twenty-billionth time.) It can never be anything but a complete and utter rollercoaster with this man! I do think that the ending I got with him was as good as it possibly could have been though, given everything. Sorry for this really poorly written rant. I needed to get this out of my system and it's almost 3am lol.

[technically-human]

How would the girls react to their RV!selves?? and/or how would the four of them (Charles, Edwin, Crystal, and Niko) react to their little gang's RV!counterparts?

Like... if all 8 of them interacted. (I just wasn't completely sure my phrasing actually made sense)

Well, Niko and RV!Crystal are supposed to be dead... But we can ignore that, I always do.

I think Niko would admire her RV counterpart, as she is a bit more "mature" and better at interacting with people (she doesn't enjoy doing it, but she can if it's required). RV!Niko would probably envy Niko's freedom, not coming from a family of people with spiritual powers. They both would be perfectly pleasant to each other.

Crystal HATES RV!Crystal, much like Charles hates RV!Charles. She reminds her too much of her past, of the person she was before meeting the boys, of all the cruel and awful things she has said and done. RV!Crystal probably dislikes that this version of herself has powers while she gets nothing. She has always wanted to be someone special, to be known for who she is, and yet, time and time again, she is reduced to her parent's child. She's nothing more than a glorified piece of art, at least this other Crystal has SOMETHING going on for her. At the same time, she's hopeful that, if Crystal could become a better person, so could she.

As for the two groups interacting, I imagine they would mostly avoid each other. If forced to work together, they're extremely efficient and do a great job together. If forced to interact in a more casual setting, it is bedlam. The Charles and Crystal's are at each other's throats, the Niko's try to be peacemakers but don't really want to get too involved, and the Edwin's do their best to stay out of the whole thing

(RV!Edwin looks indifferent, but he is watching and if someone hurts his Charles, he will start hitting people with his croquet mallet. Don't try him)

[prettyboykatsuki]

This is a weird thought piece question so if you don’t wanna answer it’s okay. But genuinely as a character I think Katsuki is very aware of people he cares about. Almost in an Izuku type of obsessive way, maybe less intense and prone to writing it down, lol. But as I trust your perspective on him a lot I wanted to ask, do you think he’s the type of person as a friend or significant other or potential person, to be aware of insecurities?

Or to care genuinely? For example if you were insecure about your size. Do you think he would be aware of that and be silent? Or would he love the insecurity in spite of your feelings? Or does he not really think twice because he cares about you and doesn’t know you would even feel that way. It’s a weird dilemma I ran into wanting to write a piece for him and I realized I couldn’t figure it out. Hopefully I am explaining myself properly?

Thank you 😭

i understand what u mean lol dw and i think if u read some of my pieces my stance on this aspect of him is hard to grasp bc i dont often write more insecure readers. mostly bc i think its a little bit harder to write well as it requires more nuances but thats a diff can of worms jdhfkj

i think its important to understand less so what bakugou does and does not care about and moreso the way he process information - which is largely intuitive.

like i do understand what you are asking and because bakugou is bakugou - yes, i think he is probably aware of these things. he picks up on them often and usually uses them in some context when throwing insults or even in more light hearted interactions.

but a lot of bakugous informational processing is based on a pragmatic, systemic and reason based way of thinking. and a lot of what impedes that way of acting is his own emotional state. in the beginning of the series, he's a lot more insecure in himself and he projects that onto other people. it causes him to act in very irrational and ridiculous ways

however by the end of the series, katsuki s a fully processed and emotionally realized man. so he defaults to a more elevated, calm and secure version of himself that relies on what he's best at which is using his intuition to draw conclusions and implementing a reason based plan. before he was doing that just with logic.

but he has the emotional tuning to also do this in his relationships and he's taken a lot of time to learn to navigate them.

so i think in a partnership, it's unlikely that he does not know at all. i think he probably picks up on the insecurity in smaller ways but does not put a real name to it (i.e. i dont think he thinks of it consciously / actively) until something comes up which forces him too do it

and that something would be if its putting his partner in any kind of serious emotional distress or comes up frequently as a reason for their upset.

katsuki has this line he says very famously says to shouto "there's no way you could've noticed something that i didnt but lets hear it anyway." and he's being passive aggressive af lol but there is some merit to that.

he's a very keen person naturally and he spends a significant amount of time with you - so he definitely knows to an extent. maybe no actively, maybe not consciously - but just an intuitive understanding.

however, because he loves you - he will only intervene when he thinks its necessary to do so. and this isn't because he doesn't care about you, but because he specifically had to handle his own insecurity and he knows firsthand what you're experiencing in himself.

but katsuki loves you and also has a lot of faith in you. he will push if he thinks you need to be pushed, and he will assure if he thinks you need to be assured. he's a good partner in that way. but for the most part, he won't interfere because he trusts in you as a person to overcome things. insecurity is not something that can be mended by another person if it's within yourself, but it can be healed when it's reframed to you by someone who loves you.

and if you need that from katsuki he will undoutedly give it to you. but he trusts you to handle business basically. so not in a bad way, he treats your insecurities as simply being apartof you.

he doesn't have any feelings about the insecurity itself. he's not lying when he says that. but thats because he loves you more as an amalgalm of all the parts of you. his view of you is rounded out and he sees all of it as you. if he loves you, he loves you. there's nothing that needs to be changed as longs as its you. so he has no opinion on if you like or dislike something. you are you no matter who you are or what you look like.

bakugou is very explicitly not shallow. appearances in love are generally unimportant to him. he falls in love with people not looks even when people don't believe that because he's so pretty lmao