#it's sort of symbolic in a way! :o

[britishchick09]

teen rewrite erik- 2024 vs. 2022! ;D

bonus- him at 6, 15 and 29:

[coeurify]

ok but what do you think about making a sex tape with ellie 🧍‍♀️

an: this has been reworked over and over since this request came in in march… so enjoy! its very lovey dovey and sm plot sorry :3

warnings: 18+. filming. jackson!ellie. fingering and oral!r receiving. mostly lovey but some teasing and rough language :3 ellie is obsessed and lovesick and so is reader soooo they make a sex tape. unedited gimme time.

When Ellie first brought up the idea, you had recoiled into her old beat up couch, scoffing as she waved the old camcorder around, a shiteating grin on her face.

“I doubt that thing even works El,” you shrugged your shoulders under the blanket you had stolen off her bed. It wasn't unusual for you to hole up in her small homey garage while she was on patrol.. but what *was* odd was her little.. Souvenir from this particular trip.

“C’mon babe,” Ellie pouted, “Let me try on you..” she wiggled the little camcorder, slipping her hand into the attached grip, flipping open the small screen. Despite your complaints that there was no way it worked, Ellie just could never be wrong. Of course she knew you would fight back, and so she had made sure she fished some batteries too. Of course they came from Maria, the cost three days of stable duty.. But it was worth it for the immune woman, who ducked her nose down and watched the screen flicker to a slow start.

The quality was no better than that of what you could expect from a decades old camera, the film grainy and muffled, each corner covered by symbols Ellie didn’t really understand. But it was no roadblock in the trek of her wants. She smiled when your hands immediately came to slap over your face, voice serious behind your palms as you spoke, “put that down.”

Eventually however, you got a little used to Ellie’s newest fixation. The little hums she made were always a dead give away that she was filming you. During a video game tournament against Dina and Jesse, squished so closely to the two on the floor of the garage that you literally bruised the taller man during a particularly aggressive round of a fighting game. When you were trying your best to compete against your girlfriend’s art skills, tongue poking out the corner of your lips as you worked on a very detailed stick figure that dawned pointed down eyebrows, a large frown and red pencil hair. Even just when you were organizing Ellie’s closet for her, sorting through the tens of sweatshirts with a judging pout on your lips at the mess.

Each time you heard the distinctive sound of El’s attempt at holding back laughs, a small little choked up ‘hmm’ sound. You usually turned your head, quick to flip off your girlfriend-turned-filmmaker. But by the fifth time of catching her smiling behind the little object, you just let her. Whenever you could see her a little less tense, you took it.

Even if that meant starring in all of her little five second shitty clips. Her excuse always, “Just something to look at when I miss you.”

In some ways it made you feel weak legged, slightly lovesick by the thought of Ellie loving you so dearly she just had to steal little memories of you. Every small grin that broke onto freckled cheeks wherever she filmed coaxed you into the haze built up by her new hobby. You became so covered in adoration soon that you resorted to tiny only half mad eye roll when the click of the camera sounded.

Small clips turned into Ellie’s free hand wrapping around your bare waist as you looked in the mirror of her bathroom, the camcorder pressed near your cheek, the auburnette on the other side. You wiped the condensation from the glass, the room still slightly foggy from your shower. “You are not filming me out of the shower,” you huffed. Ellie didn’t answer, the familiar sounding hum stopped only when she pressed a kiss to the base of your neck, lips pulling up into a smile against the skin. “Won’t point too low..” she promised. “You just look so pretty..”

That time, the camera had been closed and discarded on a random bedside table as the two of you stumbled across her floor, giggling as Ellie cursed, stubbing her toe on the corner of the bed she tried to press you down into.

It continued like that, the limits of what you allowed Ellie to film seemed to blur further with every day.. Every curl of her fingers around the object that had become so central to this small haven of her home. Your own neck hot for reasons very different from embarrassment each time the filming light blinked a little too long. The line that you and Ellie had drawn in the sand of your mind was looking a lot less precise with every new memory saved into the device.

Even further along into the passing weeks, you had settled comfortably into yet another night spent at Ellie’s. Your own bedroom had remained untouched for nearly a week this time, bed spread likely just as cold as the air outside. But the garage was warm. The air inside thick as you pressed two fingers against your lips to keep a laugh from spilling out. Glasses of half empty wine, stolen from Tommy and Maria’s cupboard, balanced on the table that sat directly in front of the couch you were cuddled into.

The feeling of wine drunkenness always made you giggly, but your girlfriend parading around her small living space with her camcorder, well, that made you even more prone to bursts of laughs. She had gone from filming and rambling on about what wine you were drinking to zooming into your face, chuckling with breath that smelt like red wine. “See how pretty?” Ellie gaped to no one, stepping closer to you on the couch. The whole garage was painted a light orange from the setting sun outside, but it didn’t stop Ellie.

“El, you’re being a dork,” you chide, shaking your head as more compliments spilt from her. She shoos off the bitten remark with a sound that boarders on a coo, leaning over you as the lens of the camcorder sat close enough to pick up the smaller details of your face the grainy film usually could not.

“I’m just showin’ how perfect you are..” Ellie explains, a softer tone edging into her lungs as she presses her thumb to your cheek, drawing a new heat under the digit. “Perfect cheeks…” her finger traces over your jawline next, and then your chin. Each new landmark of your face that Ellie doted on swept closer and closer to your soft lips. You were no idiot, you saw how the green of her eyes fell to the fat, watched as you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth and then out again. You made no move to stop what came next.

That next move was your girlfriend’s finger following like a moth to a flame to the one spot that teetered on that blurry line again, thumb pressing softly around the curve of your lips.

“Perfect lips,” Ellie continued, eyes flicking back and forth from the camera screen to you. Soon the pad of her finger is right against your bottom lip, and the room seems to slow.

The both of you hold bated breaths as you mull over your options. But this mulling is no longer than a few seconds, feeling overwriting the more logical side of your brain with a gushy type of tightness in your chest.

Your lips part, eyes meeting the lense as you suck the tip of Ellie’s thumb into your mouth. Lips wrap around the soft skin, salty and cold, and Ellie has little to say other than a slow and breathy, “Fuck..”

Your tongue peaks out just for a moment, lavishing over the wet skin, but Ellie is quick to pull away, leaving your shining lips parted in confusion. The camera falls to her side as her free fingers wrap around your wrist. Just like last time, the little red light twists away from your face. Ellie’s toes step backwards from that oh so mysterious line you two made.

“You know what you do to me, hm?” Ellie questioned as she hauled you up by your arm, a sharp giggle following as she stomped to the bed. The camera is discarded on the table near her pillows as you are thrown back on it.

“No,” you tease, your next giggle cut off by a thump noise that was Ellie pushing you back against grey sheets, you make a sound that almost sounds like “oof” as you try to readjust. Ellie clambers on top of your squirming frame as another sputtered laugh escapes at the messy, and not very seductive, way you two found contact against the creaking mattress.

“Tell me,” you prompt, meeting Ellie’s narrowed green eyes. “Why should I? You’re laughin’ at me.”

Your eyes roll as Ellie’s lips fall into a pout that you want to kiss clean off. “Stop being a baby,” you mutter before letting your impulse win, your hands cupping the freckles cheeks of your girlfriend and pulling her down for a soft kiss. Her pouted lips quickly shape to your own, and you sigh in approval as the hand not holding herself up traces down to your waist.

“I’m not a baby,” your girlfriend complains when your lips part from each other, and you nearly pinch her cheeks from just how lovely you find the whiny drawl in her voice, instead you just shrug, biting back another half bubbled up laugh, “mhm, prove it.”

Ellie does just that. One tug on your hips has you flatter against the bed, one poke at your side has a squeal leaving your mouth. You see how Ellie’s lips quirk up, but before you can admire the sight, she kisses you again.

“So,” Ellie punctuates the word with a kiss, the sort that makes a loud and annoying smacking noise, before trailing her lips to your cheek. “Fuckin” Ellie’s lips find home on your jawline next, and act that has a simmering heat grow between your legs. “Perfect.” Ellie finishes the repeat of what her fingers had done earlier by nudging your head back, lips pressing softer kisses to the flesh of your neck.

Your eyes flicked to the side table, pupils finding the little camcorder as the auburn haired girl bit at your neck, your attention pulled away as your eyes flutter closed at the feeling. “El,” you breathe out, a hand finding her messy hair, nails scraping at her scalp as she bit harsher at the column of your throat. You aren’t sure why her name had been your first thought to say after seeing the camcorder, swallowing as your fingers itched to reach toward the side table.

“Hm? Tell me,” Ellie taunts, words muffled as her next target becomes your collarbone. Your own words biting at you again as your eyebrows furrowed together, watching as your girlfriend’s fingertips find the edge of your shirt, pushing it up as your hand falls from her hair to help take it off.

You pull her back for another kiss before you can even think to answer her question, one you weren’t even sure you could explain. Ellie’s needy fingers come into contact with the fat of your tits, tweaking at the perked nipples, nails pressing in just a little too hard, earning a mewl directly against the spit slick kiss. As Ellie kissed you, you tried your best to focus on the feeling, and not how you were acutely aware of the camera beside you.

Her tongue swiped at your bottom lip, warm against your parting lips as she searched to deepen the kiss, messy sounds of half breaths and kissing all sounded through the small area, your hips rolling up as her knee slotted itself between your trembling thighs.

You can’t help but wonder what this may look like on camera, and as Ellie pulls back, you notice the green of her eyes had dimmed, pupils blown as the pretty eyelashes fanned lightly. The freckles splattered over the apples of her cheeks were particularly prominent tonight, and you suspected it had something to do with the blood that rushed there, rosy and all around causing that same lovesick feeling to creep up your weakened bones.

You wonder if she would look as pretty on that grainy screen too.

Before your mind can even form another thought, Ellie is pulling away from your lips, a small whine the response she received. You can’t complain for long as she moves down, wet lips trailing sloppy kisses to your soft stomach, planting the ember of a growing fire in your groin, causing your hand to flex. Your eyes are pulled by an invisible string to the side of you again, the black material of the camcorder your gaze’s target. Ellie grumbles in response, and a small pinch on your hip has you yelping.

“What’re you looking at? Look at me.”

“Ellie,” you try again, lip quivering nervously as she ushers you to lift your hips, tugging off the bottoms you wore. “Fuckkkk,” she drawls, lost in her own little world as a large hand presses your thighs open. “You see that?” she marvels, a finger pressing against the wet spot on your panties. When she presses, you can feel the fabric stick to you, nearing translucent as she teases, your lips hugging the now soaked panties. It has your hips stirring in their spot, the flame in your stomach burning your liquid feeling stomach. “Ellie,” you sigh again.

Finally her gaze looks up, “Yea?” she asks, her voice softening. You can see the flash of confusion, her hand falling from your thigh as she searched for any apprehension. “You ok?”

“I can’t—“ your voice comes out whinier than you would like to admit, harsh against your ears with a feeling of embarrassment. “Can’t say it,” you finish, eyes moving to the camera sitting on the small wooden table beside you for the umpteenth time.

Ellie follows your eyes, and when you look back to her, there’s a flash of surprise in the shade of green you loved so much. It was replaced quickly, her eyelids drooping as her chin tilted up. “Hm. Don’t know what you mean,” she shrugs, fingers going back to teasing your panty line.

Her tone is laced with sarcasm, the teasing tilt to it is a voice you had heard many times before, many times in this exact position. Ellie liked to make you say things, liked to watch you squirm. You were convinced at this point she got off on your embarrassment, and she probably wouldn’t even deny that.

“Gonna have to spell it out for me, babe,” Ellie added, dipping down to place soft kisses at your hip-bone, pink muscle licking over a mark there.

A low and annoyed sound escapes your throat, and your girlfriend chuckles against your flesh, one finger curling around the fabric of your panties, tugging it down a little ungracefully, your shaking thighs to thank for that.

“Barely even touched you yet and you’re shakin,” Ellie teases again, whispering softly, “Such a pretty pussy..” as the sight of your weepy folds meet her eyes. “This all for me, baby? Or somethin’ else on your mind?”

Your eyes squeeze shut again, hoping to rid your mind of the film reel like thoughts of the camera pressed in Ellie’s hand as she did this. They played over and over behind the black of your eyes, and another frustrated sound fills the garage.

“Not gonna answer?” Ellie was quieter now, repositioning herself, parting your thighs even more. A finger ghosted over your dripping cunt, a hum following the action. “Can’t make you feel better if you don’t use your words, y’know?”

The warm air hit your folds as Ellie exposed you more, thighs burning from the stretch, from the tight grip of one of her hands, fingers digging into and squeezing the fatty flesh.

The blanket beneath your bare ass is no comfort as you move around, and Ellie’s nose bumps against the softness of your thigh. So close, so fucking close to giving exactly what you were searching for, so close to your aching center that your resolve cracks lightly, head tilted back and against the pillow.

“The camera,” you croak, your mouth dry as your lips part, refusing to look at the other girl.

“What about the camera? Look at me and tell me what you want.”

The crease between your eyebrows likely was gaining small droplets of sweat just from how hard you were attempting to avoid this entire fucking conversation, but Ellie kept pressing you further, and who were you to deny her?

“Wanna film this,” you eventually admit, head dipping down to meet her darkened eyes.

“Yea baby? Wanna see what a mess I can make you?” Ellie’s words start to blur together, the idea surely muddling any coherent thoughts together in her mind, licking her lips as she awaits your response.

“Fuck— mmph, yes El. Please.*”

Ellie’s lips curl into a smile that’s more wicked than loving, “Red button starts it, you can hold it.” She instructed, and you scramble to reach your arm out, grasping at the little hand strap connected to the camcorder.

“There you go babe,” she nods, “give it a go, let me see what you’ve got.”

Your fingers are shaking so badly it takes a moment for your thumb to hit the button, to see the soft little red light noting the start of the film.

The grainy screen doesn’t pick up on all the freckles adorning Ellie’s face. The ones that made you feel all gooey, that you wanted to kiss until her face was a pretty shade of red. But it did capture her parted lips, the expanse of your thighs, and your shaky grip tilted the camera down as Ellie’s head dipped between your thighs.

Her mouth latched to your achy cunt, tongue licking up the drops of arousal that covered your slit, pearling on the petal like lips that she spreads with her fingers.

Your arms almost immediately gave out.

Clearly, you were not as skilled in the art of film making as Ellie had been, the camera dropping almost completely to your tummy as Ellie sucked at your cunt. Her eyes flicked up, and she unlatched from the saccharine slick that pooled on her tongue.

“You keep that camera steady,” she muttered, thumb rubbing tiny, tight circles on your throbbing clit. “Or I stop, yea?”

You nod quickly, hips grinding into the slow and steady motion of her thumb, wet with your sticky . You would have agreed to anything she demanded of you right now anyway. Too needy, too desperate to feel her lips on you again.

“ ‘M counting on you to make a pretty movie for me.”

The sentence tapers off as she disappears to the space between your thighs again, and you nearly and truly sob as her nose bumps your clit, her tongue poking experimentally against your hole, feeling as it clenches against nothing.

You know your whimpers and quick little puffs of air are being picked up by the camera, but you’re too focused on keeping the lense directly focused on the auburn tendrils of hair, on where her face was covered by your thighs caging her cheeks in, keeping her in the place she most needed to be, drinking down every single single drop you gave her.

“Ellie,” you whine, toes curling when she presses away from your clit, two long fingers coming to part your folds, admiring the sticky sight.

“Shhh,” Ellie coos, eyes glancing up at the camera again, the burning sight of her fern colored gaze through the tiny screen has your stomach clenching even harsher, hands trembling lightly.

The air on your exposed center lasts no longer than a few seconds, Ellie’s head dipping down as the warm, wet feeling of a glob of her spit trails down your clit, finding your pulsing hole. Her tongue swipes it quickly after, suckling gently at the shiny bubbles. The sound that follows, the loud wet squelch of your wetness mixing with her spit is enough to make you want to cover the speaker of the camcorder, fingers gripping tightly at the little contraption. She focuses on licking at your sopping cunt, her head moving slightly, moaning against your folds.

“Oh—nnh—El!” you cry, your chin trembling in tandem with the hand you try desperately to keep still. Your hips rut up, and Ellie’s face moves up with you, an arm detaching from its place on your squishy thigh to instead wrap around your waist, pulling you closer. Impossibly closer.

You can feel yourself closer, closer to that delicious peak, Ellie’s nose bumping your clit, tongue working mind numbing ministrations on you.

Then she pulls back.

“Fuckin made for me,” Ellie groans, taking a deep breath as she unlatched from your pussy, her fingers sweeping through your puffy lips. “Was fuckin’ made to let me taste you.” Her eyes flick to the camera, her tone louder than usual— a little less breathy. She wanted the microphone to hear.

You cry pathetically at the loss of her tongue, lip quivering.

“Tell me,” she demands, voice overpowering the slick noises of her now shiny fingers rubbing between your folds, the tips pausing at your pulsing hole, dipping only a little in, teasing. “Tell me this pretty pussy was made for me.”

And then Ellie is reaching forward, letting go of her grip on your hips to grab harshly at the camera, maneuvering it to show your trembling body, her fingers pressing open your lips, giving the camera a pretty close up of your soaked cunt. She croons at the sight, her fingers pressing together to land a short and sharp slap against the swollen lips. “S’pretty.”

“Ellie,” you choke, chest heaving up and down as the embarrassment creeps up, making that coil in your tummy even tighter.

“Tell me,” she says again, smoothly.

Desperate to have her fingers opening you up, to have her filling you and breaking that tightly wrapped tension in your groin, you break.

“I’m yours el. ‘m all yours, was made for you,” your voice is restrained, quiet as you chew at your lips, stirring in your spot as she continues the teasing.

“What else? Tell me more, baby,” she insists, one long finger sinking into you, hissing at the feeling of your cunt molding to her, perfect for her as you clench.

“A—ah!” your voice is a sweet little cry. You grind down into the feeling, searching for more. “It’s yours El,” you babble— louder now, head thrown back. Ellie captured the moment with a quick tilt up of the camera. “M-my pussy s’all yours.”

“Fuck,” Ellie breathes, her own, usually steady camera hand, wavering as you speak. She grants you with another finger as she thrusts harshly into you, a shriek pulled from your open mouth.

“So—s-so fucking perfect,” she grunts, curling her fingers gently, hitting that squishy spot in your walls that has you keening, eyes rolling back. “Love this pussy so much, shit—shit, love you so much.”

“Love you too El,” you blubber, your chin tilting down to stare directly at the camera for a second. That awkwardness, the fear from the early days of when she’d film you completely gone as you moan pathetically, eyes shiny with complete and utter adoration.

She only pistons her fingers into you harder, faster, relishing in how you moan, how your toes curl and your chin wobbles. You’re the prettiest fucking thing she’s ever seen.

The camera points down to where she’s thrusting into you, watching through the screen as you meet her thrusts, your hips moving against the grey sheets, your thighs squeezing her hand in between them as you sob out.

Ellie meets your eyes, stealing your attention from the camera she keeps focused on your squirming frame, pounding her fingers into your cunt. “Cum for me, you can do it baby, go on. Give me a pretty show.”

And you do. Your sweaty back lifts off the bed with a sharp sob as the cord in your tummy snaps, gushing around Ellie’s fingers, pulsing around her as she thrusts shallowly, riding you through it.

Your vision goes black for a second as you heave, hands shaking as you reach out for Ellie, fingers looking to curl around her warm skin.

You don’t even notice the off click of the camera, of how she lets it softly drop to the side as she climbs up your shaky form, pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek.

“So pretty,” Ellie hums, “Prettiest movie star ever,” she mumbled, and you pour your lips— getting another soft kiss as she continues to plant tiny loving pecks around your face.

“Never should’ve let you keep that camera,” you whisper gently, smiling right when she does against the corner of your mouth that she pecks at.

“Yea fuckin’ right, we just made the movie of the year babe.”

[basketonthedoorstepofthefbi]

Shaking (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: You have an anxiety attack in a public setting, but luckily, the doctor is there to help you through it.

Word Count: 2450

Warnings: Anxiety attack, mild cursing, mostly just ANGST and then comforting FLUFF

A/N: Wanted to write Spence comforting the reader during a panic attack. Fanfiction is better than therapy, right? At least, it’s cheaper! Also not my GIF

——

“You don’t want to just order it online?” Spencer asked as you walked beside him down the sidewalk. His longer legs would typically mean that he’d be several steps ahead of you, but he always slowed his pace so you wouldn’t have to strain to keep up with him. He also walked on the outside of the path because, let’s face it, he was a gentleman.

You shook your head. “No, I want the whole experience,” you said excitedly as you walked, your face lighting up in anticipation. You were on your way towards a local bookstore, where the third book in your favorite series was being released today. The bookstore was going to be packed, but you were so excited to be one of the first ones in the door, to get your hands on a physical copy. “I don’t ever do things like this, but it’ll be something I think about every time I look at the book sitting on my shelf.”

Spencer nodded, lifting his hand, his thumb and forefinger in an O-shape as he spoke. “Ah, the age-old concept of symbolic treasures. One of the main reasons why souvenirs are such a prevalent part of going on vacation. Did you know the tradition dates back to Ancient Egypt?”

You shook your head as you continued to walk with him. Your boyfriend carried on without fault. “As far back as 2200 B.C, Egyptian Prince Harkhuf traveled to what is now known as Sudan and returned with all sorts of objects to present to his father, the pharaoh,” Spencer explained. His words spat out quickly, compulsively, as though they had to exit his encyclopedic brain. “He brought back items such as incense, ivory, even the skins of leopards to show off to his father.”

“I had no idea,” you told Spencer as you neared the bookstore, smiling sideways at him. You loved it when he spouted off facts like that, like he had to get the information out or else he’d explode. He had confessed to you more than once before that most people found it weird or off-putting or even annoying, but not you. Rather, you loved learning new things. Whatever information he had to share with you was always relevant in one way or another, and it was just one of the reasons why you loved spending time with him - he made you a more knowledgeable, well-rounded person.

Before either of you could say much else, you’d reached the back of the line of the bookstore. You checked the time on your phone. The store would open in about fifteen minutes. The line stretched down at least a full block, from what you could see. Lots of people dressed like characters from the books, shuffling their feet in excited anticipation.

There were at least a hundred people in the line, and after a minute or two, a couple dozen more had filed in behind where you stood. You pursed your lips for a moment, scanning the crowd until your eyes met Spencer’s.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, inclining his head to the side.

You shook your head. “Nothing,” you said. “Just… lot of people.”

Spencer nodded understandingly, then reached down to take your hand. Your fingers twined with his and he squeezed his palm against yours. “I’m right here,” he reminded you. You didn’t love crowds. They always made you feel anxious, perhaps even a little claustrophobic. You and Spencer had gone to a fairly crowded French film festival a few months ago and there hadn’t been an organized line to enter; rather, it had been a cluster of people, all pressed together. And you had felt like you couldn’t breathe. Spencer’d had to pull you to a seat off to the side so you could catch your breath, and you’d missed getting a seat up front like you’d been hoping for.

Right now, you were okay, though. There were people in front of you and behind you, but they weren’t flush against you like they had been waiting for the film festival to open. And Spencer was holding your hand, and you were outside, with the cool, spring morning breeze hitting your face. It was fine. You were going to be fine. You inhaled deeply and exhaled, then nodded your head, feeling the anxiety dissipate. “I’m good,” you told Spencer, looking up at him.

Spencer nodded. He squeezed your hand once again before letting go, only so he could wrap his arm around your shoulders and tug you so you leaned against his chest. He kissed the top of your hair. “It’s going to be just fine,” he promised you, and you just smiled to yourself.

About ten minutes later, the store opened. You only knew that because the line started moving, and more quickly than you thought. You squealed in delight and matched the pace of the people in front of you, Spencer by your side with an amused grin on his face. He loved books just as much as you did, if not more, but this outing was definitely just for you. He’d read the other preceding books in this series (literally just because you asked him to and it took him an hour, tops), but he wasn’t a total geek for it like you were.

You finally made it inside the bookstore, a small business, a local place. You’d been inside several times before, but you hadn’t realized just how small the building actually was until you stepped in now. It was two stories, but everyone was tightly packed, with the people and the bookshelves crowding around you as you made it fully inside the store. There was even a line to go up to the second floor, like a queue at an amusement park.

There was little to no breathing room. Everyone was talking as they waited their turn to grab a copy of the new book, and the sound seemed to bounce off the walls and the ceiling and smack you right in the ear. The air felt thick despite the front door and handful of windows being opened, allowing the cool spring breeze to ruffle the pages of the paperbacks on display.

But it wasn’t refreshing. Rather, it was another stimulant that caused the neurons in your brain to fire even faster. You felt your palms get slick. You felt your heart start to pound, and your knees wobble as you shuffled forward in the line. What were you even waiting in line for? You momentarily forgot, blinking a few times before looking up at the man beside you. Spencer was engrossed in looking around the bookstore, the corners of his mouth quirking upward as he seemed to find something amusing. But when his eyes came full circle back to you, they were immediately filled with concern. “Y/N?” He asked softly, placing a hand on your shoulder.

You couldn’t even hear him. The sound of his voice just bounced off your brain, like you were trapped inside of cellophane. All you could think was trapped. I’m trapped. No way out. Stuck. Caged. Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe.

You felt your breathing go heavy, and your eyes fill up with tears. Your cheeks were red, bright red, judging from how hot you suddenly felt. “Leave,” you managed to choke out, your voice coming out from your throat. It felt like your throat was lined with thorns, like the words you wanted to say kept getting caught.

Spencer nodded. “Leave? Yeah. Yeah, baby, we can leave,” Spencer grabbed your hand, tugging you along behind him as he murmured “excuse me, pardon me,” to the other patrons, to get through the crowd. Moving against the crowd was so much worse than standing still. All those eyes on you, seeing your red face and the anxious tears trickling down your cheeks. It was so embarrassing, freaking out like this is such a public space. Everyone thinks I’m a freak, you thought. Your anxiety became not about the crowd, but about your anxiety, about how you were being perceived. Your breathing picked up, quickened, and by the time Spencer led you out into the morning sun, you were fully hyperventilating.

The thoughts in your head were racing at the speed of light. You hated feeling nervous like this, but moreover, you hated that Spencer had to take care of you because of it. You felt like you had ruined the day because your head wasn’t on straight, because you couldn’t stand in a crowd of people and hear the cacophony of voices and tamp down your panic.

Spencer led you down the block, about twenty feet from the store, away from the crowd, and your breath was still coming out staccato, unstable as you looked down at your shaking hands. You were crying and hyperventilating and the whole world felt like it was spinning. Spencer kept his hold on your hand and stood in front of you, squeezing his palm against yours. His eyes, those light brown irises with little flecks of green, stared into yours. “Hey, Y/N,” he said, bending his knees so his face was level with yours. “Breathe with me, okay?”

You shook your head, your eyes clamping shut. You were so mad at yourself in that moment. You didn’t want to have Spencer take care of you, to have to drag you out of a bookstore because you were having a panic attack. “Baby, you’re trembling,” you heard Spencer’s voice laced with concern. “Look at me. We’ll get through this together.”

You opened your eyes slowly, and that’s when you realized your entire body was shaking. You looked into Spencer’s eyes and he released your hand so he could cup your face. His fingers anchored under your jaw, his thumbs rested on your cheeks, and his eyes were wide, full of worry, but his voice managed to stay soothing and calm. “Follow my breath, Y/N. Do what I’m doing, okay? In for four, hold for four, out for four.”

He inhaled for 4 seconds, and you tried to follow his lead, but you just couldn’t control your lungs. “It’s okay,” he assured you as your brows furrowed, presenting frustration. “C’mon, try again.” He inhaled for 4 seconds, and you managed to match him this time. “Hold for four,” you held your breath while Spencer counted. “And out for four,” you exhaled deeply. “Good, okay, let’s do it again.”

Spencer guided your breath for a few minutes, until you finally felt like you could do it on your own. And when you finally felt yourself coming down from the rush of panic that had sent you into fight-or-flight, you wiped at your wet eyes. “I’m sorry,” you croaked, and Spencer just shook his head.

“No,” he insisted, taking your hand and placing it on his heart. You could feel it beating through his long-sleeved t-shirt. “No, you don’t have to be sorry.” You rubbed your hand against his chest, finding it comforting as you hung your head. “Baby, look at me,” he requested, and you met his eyes.

“Please don’t ever apologize for having an anxiety attack, okay? For one thing, it’s not your fault. You can’t control the chemicals and waves in your brain and how your body reacts to situations,” Spencer began, his hand on top of yours that rested on his chest. You nodded, using the heel of your free hand to wipe away your tears. The crying was over, you were fairly certain, but god, did this suck. “You also should never feel ashamed for having a panic attack, Y/N. It happened, and we’re working through it. It’s a lot like boiling a pot of water, isn’t it?”

You let out a garbled sounding laugh and your brows furrowed. “How so?” You stammered out.

“Well, you set the pot of water on the stove, right?” Spencer began, and you nodded. “And then when it starts to bubble, that’s your anxiety. Some sort of external stimulant - the stove, or, in your case, the overwhelming feeling of being in a crowd - is causing the water to bubble. And when the external stimulant increases in intensity, so too does your anxiety. And sometimes, yeah, the pot boils over.” Spencer shrugged like it was no big deal. “But then you just turn the stove off, grab a dishtowel, and clean up the mess. Problem solved.”

You cracked a half-hearted smile. “So in this metaphor, you’re a dishtowel?” You asked, curling your fingers around the fabric of his shirt.

“Technically, I think it’s a simile, but yes,” Spencer grinned as he looked in your eyes.

“But the book,” you sighed, looking back at the bookstore, which was still filtering people in and out slowly. The patrons leaving the store clutched their new copies of the book in their hands, grinning and taking pictures with their phones, laughing with their friends excitedly.

“Do you want to get back in line and try again?” Spencer asked, and you bit your cheek pensively.

“I don’t think so,” you said softly, defeatedly.

“That’s okay,” Spencer said. You loved that he wasn’t coddling you, he was just feeling it out, seeing what you were up for. “Do you want to get brunch somewhere and come back? Maybe the line will have died down by then?”

You nodded, your lips curling into a small smile. “Yeah,” you agreed. You realized your hand was still over his heart, rubbing at his chest. Your movement halted and you retracted your hand, but before your arm could fall completely at your side, Spencer scooped your hand up and kissed the back of your palm. “What if we come back and they’ve sold out of the book, though?” You asked as Spencer walked with you in the direction of one of your favorite brunch places, just a short walk from the bookstore.

“There are twenty-two independent bookstores in the D.C. metropolitan area alone,” Spencer rattled off. “If this one doesn’t have it, we’ll drive around until we find one that does.”

“What article did you read that told you how many bookstores were in D.C?” You asked. You often liked to challenge him by asking him to cite his sources.

“No article. I did a search on Google Maps last night,” Spencer explained.

“What, because you knew I’d freak out when we walked into this one?” You asked him.

Spencer shook his head. “No, just wanted to have a contingency plan in case our first stop sold out before we got there.”

“Always thinking ahead, huh, Boy Wonder?”

“Damn straight.” A smirk formed across Spencer’s lips.

You shook your head. “You’re the best dishtowel a girl could ask for.”

[am-i-interrupting]

Hi! I loved your Hazbin hotel with nails head cannons. Could you do an extension of that where you get nails to match your s/o? Please 🙏 ❤️❤️❤️

There are two ways to take this so depending on whether or not the character would let someone do their nails dictates how I’ll do it. For characters who will, you get matching sets of nails. For characters who won’t, you get nails that are inspired by their aesthetic.

(Part two— the gals)

Alastor

When you show him nails that are red in color with radio dials and deer antlers decorating them, his smile widened and he tilted his head, curious.

“What do you think?” “I think that you look lovely, darling.”

Expect some extra hand holding.

He will be bringing your hand up to his lips to kiss. Looks at the design, smiles a bit more genuinely, squeezes your hand, and let’s your hands drop.

When your in private, expect to be brought into his lap.

He lets you do whatever you like but he is holding one of your hands the entire time.

Running his fingertips down your finger.

He will run his thumb over any ridges that appear due to the design.

When you’re asleep, he memorizes the design, his color, his symbols on your hand against your skin.

Husk

He’s actually shocked when you take his suggestion. He thought you were just asking out of idle curiosity. He didn’t actually expect you to get it done.

He just kind of stares, shocked at your hand.

The nails are matte and coffin shaped.

Most have a black base and have a card type design. The spade, the clover, the diamond. The first two white and the last red.

What he didn’t expect the heart to be yellow and your free fingernail to have the white and pink stripes of his ears. (Listen, I love his pilot design)

He placed a kiss to your hand and compliments them.

He’s not as obvious as Alastor would be (in comparison to Alastor’s normal no touch behavior) but he would be holding your hand a bit more.

When he thinks no one is watching, he’ll stare at your nails with a quirked little smile.

Lucifer

You go get your nails done together.

Lucifer gets a little duck design with a white background.

He just sort of stares at them, surprised at how much he likes it.

He starts going with you more often to get his nails done. It makes him feel good. He starts wearing his gloves less.

When you get nails inspired by him, he’s absolutely speechless.

The pinstripe design of his favorite waistcoat. The apple and snake imagery.

He loves it so much.

He placed a kiss on every single finger.

When the two of you next see Charlie or anyone from the Hotel or Ozzie, Bee, or any of the other sins, he grabs your hand and shoved it in their face.

“Look at their nails! See! They’re inspired by me! They put that on their hand!”

Vox

“So, what did you get this time, my dear?”

His brow would raise when he saw the design.

The Voxtech logo, a wifi symbol, some red and black hypno circles, and the rest same blue as his claws.

“Well, well, what sight. I do believe these are my favorite set yet.”

Would bring your hand up against his and measure how they line up.

He would then curl your hands together so he was holding yours.

He would then pull you into your lap and give you a kiss.

Ideally he’d run his hands along your fingers but that’s just something he does without them.

Secretly (not really) he likes the fact that you’ve willingly put his symbols on you.

Would try not to give away his liking to them away too much so he doesn’t really do much aside saying they’re his favorite set.

[biteofcherry]

Yours to have

Bad Moon Rising Masterlist

Alpha!Ari Levinson x omega female reader

summary: It's the ceremony of your mating with Ari.

warnings: mystical vibes of ancient rituals; a/b/o dynamics; a pinch of exhibitionism; slight breeding kink; primal kink; shifters; shifter!Ari; wolf!Ari; shifter!Reader; no bestiality

word count: 5.4k

Author's Note: This is a tad different take on the usual claiming/biting in the a/b/o universe. The magic is more at play here in forming the mating bond, not the actual biting. As you read, you'll understand what exactly I changed about it and why. Also, a person called godi appears in this piece. The title of godi refers to a priest/ess of old pagan religions, leading mystical rituals (it's mostly Old Norse origin, but here it's simply used as a term to name the pack's sort of priestess).

The little sip of black currant liqueur you took before all the guests gathered in the wide, unfenced backyard didn’t help easing the tempo of your heart rate, as you finally took a step outside. 

The silvery sphere of the full moon rose above the treetops, crowned in a gold and reddish halo as if the goddess herself knew of the special celebration about to take place. 

Both packs were present - or you should say one pack, as now your people were merged into one under the rule of Ari. People stood to the sides, making a wide path for you to cross toward the arch weaved of evergreen branches, where your future mate awaited along with the pack’s godi. 

It was the redhead who stole curious glances your way ever since Ari’s pack started mingling with yours. What you saw at first as some sort of jealousy, because Ari kept his claim on you known right away, relentlessly so, turned out to be mere curiosity. Perhaps also a mystical knowledge, which a godi was supposed to possess. 

Her name was Alara and she was going to lead the ceremony of your mating. 

Times were modern, shifters tended to bind themselves in very human-style weddings, but the Alpha had to honor old traditions. Especially if he chose to mate with an Omega. It was a stereotype as old as time and as such was expected to follow the ancient traditions. 

In the weeks leading to the ceremony you spent some time with Alara, who taught you every step of the ceremony. It wasn't common knowledge, though there were parts of it passed on through generations via spoken tales. Like you were aware of the fact the ceremony had two phases and only a very few, selected shifters would be present for the second part.

The rather primal part. 

Tiredness should weigh on your tense body, since you woke before dawn, but the anticipation and shot of excitement kept you fully energized. The early morning was part of tradition, as well. You walked into the woods with the first rays of sun to gather greens for the wreaths you were going to weave for yourself and your mate. 

Mugwort, chamomile, wild ferns, St. John’s wort and a few twigs of juniper. You wore yours on your head as you slowly crossed through the backyard. In your hands you carried the twin wreath for Ari. 

You were going to crown him with it, as a symbol of you choosing him to be yours. Later, when the second part of the ceremony started, he would take yours off of your head, as a symbol of taking your nonexistent virginity. 

It was laughable, if you were cynically honest. Neither did you choose Ari, not really, nor were you a virgin. Not for a long time. 

Something that Ari didn’t seem to care about. 

Like he didn’t care that you were much older than overly fertile young women he could have chosen from. A small part of you found it quite pleasing, that he didn’t chase after girls half his age, but voiced his interest in you - someone who was merely a few years younger than him. 

You walked barefoot, your simple white dress flowing around your ankles. It was no point in buying an actual, elegant wedding dress, considering you wouldn’t be wearing it for long once you got to the second part of the ceremony. 

You wore no undergarments either. 

You didn’t think Ari’s aware of that fact, but the way his gaze slid up your body as you approached him suggested he might be.

Then his eyes settled on your face and a certain lightness seemed to turn his irises aglow. There was seriousness and respect for the traditions carved onto his handsome face, but his mouth curved at the corners slightly, soothing and encouraging you.

Ari was barefoot, just like you; wearing elegant, linen pants and white shirt that was buttoned only halfway up. 

It was so characteristic of him, you noticed. Over the weeks leading to your mating you’ve had enough opportunities to spend time with Ari - usually not out of your own volition, but because he was crossing into your space and inviting himself over. And most of the time at least two top buttons of his shirts were undone.

You wondered if it was some poor style choice, or if he ran so hot that he needed them unbuttoned.

Those thoughts invited others, more brazen. If he’d walk around the house without a shirt? If he slept naked? Questions you tried to convince yourself you didn’t care for, but which you’d very soon learn the answers to.

You stopped in front of Ari, lifting the wreath in your hands for him to admire. When he bowed his head, you put it on him. A startling flutter to your heart sprinkled warmth through your limbs as you looked at him crowned with a wreath you weaved. 

Lanterns cast amber glow across your bodies as you placed your hands in Ari’s. It was neither their warmth, nor the evening’s sweet dispersing incalescence, but a simmer of heat ignited in your belly when you touched him. 

Ever since he marked you with his cum, feeding you a dollop of it, it seemed your body attuned to his closeness with growing hunger. 

You tried not to imagine how worse it could get once he fully claimed you. 

Alara bound your hands with colorful ribbons; each for a different vow you spoke. Then she lifted an ornamental chalice, filled with sweetly smelling mead and a pinch of herbs. 

With your hands bound, both you and Ari carefully took the chalice. He lifted it to your lips first. Pleasant thickness of it coated your tongue and slid down your throat, leaving a burning sensation that only spurred the fire in your belly. 

In the books regarding mating ceremonies you read about a particular ingredient that used to be added to wine or mead for the bride to drink. According to Alara that hasn’t been done in at least a century and you really hoped she was truthful. It would be really disgusting if you were made to drink Ari’s cum in front of everyone, even if it was only a splash of it. 

Apparently it used to be added to strengthen the bride’s desire for her mate. 

You knew it would work. You still remembered how your body responded to the taste of Ari when he caught you. 

You tipped the chalice slightly when it was Ari’s turn to take a sip; his eyes a glowing blue that seared through you as he held your gaze over the rim. 

With your hands still bound, Ari pulled you forward. He took your mouth in a bold kiss that burned stronger than the rich alcohol you just consumed. Loud cheers resounded around, but were faded compared to the pounding of your own blood rushing through vessels as you melted under the demand of Ari’s lips. 

There was amusement and giggles as you and Ari worked your hands free of the bindings. No scissors or claws could be used to cut through them, you had to work the knots together. Then the bundle of colorful ribbons was placed in a small, carved box. 

You gasped in surprise - the sound dispersing on your palate - when Ari kissed you again. 

Hands completely free, he grabbed you fully, dipping you backwards as his tongue dipped between your lips. The chorus of applause included a few howls. 

You felt a little dizzy (and a lot hot) when Ari pulled back. If not for his arm loosely wrapped around your middle, you may have swayed. Eyes glazed, though you weren’t certain if it was due to the potent mead, or the reality of mating Ari hitting you suddenly; you stared up at him. 

With the spark in his iridescent irises, you sensed he was equally excited for the next part as you were terrified of it. 

But your fear didn’t make you flee; not this time, at least. It was that kind of fear that lured to follow into the darkness and experience the thrill of being consumed. Curiosity and apprehension combined into an addictive kind of sensation. 

Was it why you felt that spark of arousal whenever you ran away and Ari gave chase? 

The first thought making you run could be of rebellion, of trying to free yourself of the Alpha’s clutches. But the chase made it into heady titillation. 

The unknown of the mystical, sacred part of the ceremony spiked that fear, but the aspect of doing it with Ari - whatever raw, dirty act it would be - heated your body in anticipation. 

Alara addressed the gathered people, calling upon them to feast in joy for your union. Then she took one of the lanterns and led a small procession deep into the woods. Five other shifters fell into step behind her - three of Ari’s pack and two of yours. Chosen for their hierarchy in the pack, they were granted great honor to be witnesses to the second part of the ceremony. 

Though you briefly wondered, if Dante wasn’t asked to do it also as some sort of twisted power play. He was a member of your old pack and it seemed Ari respected his knowledge, experience and dedication to protect people. However, there was no doubt Ari would have learned that you and Dante used to date. 

It ended more than three years ago, the two of you remaining somewhat friendly if distanced. But male shifters tended to be extremely possessive. Ari was borderline so. It wouldn’t surprise you if the honor to participate in your ceremony wasn’t also Ari’s way of emasculating Dante in case he harbored any lustful thoughts of you. 

Ari’s fingers intertwined with yours as you followed Alara through the darkness of the woods. The lantern was merely symbolic, as your shifter senses allowed all of you to move through the night quite easily. 

When you reached a wide clearing, the five shifters spread around, taking positions in a spread semi-circle. Alara led you forward to the middle of the meadow where a few items had been prepared in advance. 

“You shall undress each other, so the Moon can bathe  you in her glow,” Alara’s voice was soft and melodic, her lips curved in a gentle smile, but her eyes were sharp and wild. Gold swirls painted on her face seemed to pulse with life.

Breath hitched in your throat when Ari’s hands smoothed along your shoulders, the straps of your dress easily giving in as he pushed them off. Leaning close, he reached behind you and unzipped the short zipper of your dress, then pulled the delicate fabric off your body. 

Trying not to think of being completely naked in front of him - and in front of five other shifters! - you unbuttoned his shirt, one small button after another. Your fingers itched to explore the expanse of Ari’s chest, but you stifled that craving and managed to touch as little of his skin as possible as you pushed the shirt off his shoulders. 

Staring at his chest, you popped the button of his pants open and lowered the zipper. You couldn’t make yourself look Ari into the eyes, fearing to see the heat in them and perhaps a sense of dark, lustful victory. 

It was better not to peek down, too. The glimpse of Ari’s cock you got when he came all over you after he caught you in the woods was enough of torment in the past few weeks; tempting your body into overdrive as you dreamt of it. 

You stepped away from the pile of clothes and faced each other. Heart pounding in your chest, you finally lifted your gaze to Ari’s face. Without Alara’s prompting, as if he knew each step of the ceremony by heart, Ari took off his wreath and placed it at godi’s feet. 

Then he reached for your wreath. In a slow, gentle move, he took it off. 

It was only a symbol, one you previously rolled your eyes at, but the moment Ari’s fingers gripped the green weaves and deprived you of them, a light, pleasant sting pierced your core. 

Your wreath was offered at Alara’s feet as well; the godi served as a conduit of the Moon goddess. 

“Shift.” The command was simple, unyielding enough that you didn’t protest, even though you were surprised by it.

When Alara taught you stages of the ceremony, she didn’t mention letting your wolf out. You hesitated only a few seconds, before you gave in to the pull itching beneath your skin. For a split of a second you got to admire Ari’s wolf with your human eyes, then you were seeing him through your wolf’s. 

You were a streak of silver, light coloring that some of your former partners expressed to be the moonlight itself crushed into fur. Though you weren’t the smallest of wolves, placing yourself as rather average among shifters, you seemed tiny compared to Ari’s wolf. 

Your Alpha was a beast of fairy tales. So big and domineering. His thick fur was a spectrum of bronze, with some streaks glinting gold, some reddish, the tip of his tail as dark as black. 

In that moment it hit you how perfect of a predator he was. As a human you noticed his scent that blended him so easily with the forest - pine and moss and resin. His wolf form blended into the woods even deeper, allowing him to gain the upper hand in any season, any part of the land. 

Ari’s paw dug into soil as he made a move toward you. Something flicked through your hindbrain, or perhaps it was your human side all along, but you suddenly felt the need to bolt. 

To tease him, maybe. Or perhaps you couldn’t suppress that remnant of rebellion against this union.

Your wolf barely managed to turn around and start forward when Ari leaped. The massive wolf crushed you to the ground, your wolf yipping as he trapped you beneath him. Then his jaw locked on your neck, sharp teeth piercing enough to be a warning. 

A shudder rippled through you, your head dropping down in submission. Ari snarled and for a moment you found yourself scrambling to understand what he wanted. But your wolf knew. With another pitiful yip she went lax, surrendering completely. A lick of approval soothed the spot where his fangs nipped you.

Slowly, Ari eased back. You remained in your position, not daring yet to move. Then suddenly a low growl of his reverberated through your bones.

It yanked on that shifter thread inside you, forcing an immediate shift. 

Never before had anything like it happened, it was always your own volition to change into wolf form and back into human. And Ari just proved to you how much power he held. 

Alphas supposedly possessed that ability - to force any shifter into immediate change, but you never saw Dimitri do it to anyone. You didn’t think Ari’s done it to scare you, or belittle you in any way, rather you felt it as his help to guide you into the next step of the ceremony. 

Yet it still elicited a scary realization, how truly he could overpower you. If you ever ran away in your wolf form, he could command your immediate shift into human and gain more advantage. 

Ari gently helped you up onto your feet, having shifted into human form himself. The care and respect he showed contrasted with the display of raw power. 

Your gaze shifted to Alara, a glint of offense at not being prepared for that part of the proceedings. She only smiled as she beckoned the two of you closer.

“The wolf’s submission had to be natural, had to be earned,” she explained. “If I warned you of it, then it could provoke you to either fake it, or fight it just out of spite.”

You wouldn’t tell her that you felt your wolf submit to Ari weeks ago, when he tackled you to the ground after chasing you through the woods. The bitch gave in then. 

Alara picked a bowl filled with sweet scented mixture. Linden honey, cloves, lovage and crushed cranberries for the red color. She lifted it up to the sky, muttering a string of blessings, or spells, or whatever curse. Then she lowered it towards Ari. 

“Under the Moon’s keen eye, brand what’s yours to have.” 

She held the bowl as Ari dipped his hand in the mixture. He marked a spot on your temple first. Then smeared the honey across your mouth. Your lips parted, letting the sweet taste in. And letting a little gasp out when Ari’s hand left streaks of sticky concoction across your breasts.

You couldn’t tear your gaze away from Ari’s eyes when he dipped both his hands for more mixture and then splayed one on your ass and his other palm over your abdomen. 

He crouched down to better drive his fingers up the inside of your thigh and then along the juncture in your hip, before ending the sweet swirl in the thatch of your hair right above your softly pulsing clit. 

Each streak he painted on your naked body seemed to seep into your skin and feed to the fire already burning you with need. 

A thought to chase Ari’s fingers with your mouth, to suck them clean so he could slip them into your wet pussy, flashed in your mind. It was Alara’s voice addressing you that stopped you from making a fool of yourself. 

“Under the Moon’s keen eye, brand what’s yours to have.” She tipped the bowl your way. 

Fingers dripping with red stained honey, you reached up to touch Ari’s temple. When you brushed your fingertips across his mouth, you almost pouted in disappointment he didn’t nip at any of your digits. 

Focusing on regulating your breath, so you didn’t pant, you used both of your hands to mark Ari’s huge biceps. Then, just because you were getting needy and annoyed with yourself because of that, you scratched his chest a bit as you smeared the mixture across his pectorals. 

Perhaps you saw it in the way Ari’s eyes darkened, or maybe it was already the bond building between the two of you, but you felt certain that he liked when you scratched him. 

Your eyes followed the line your fingers drew along the thatch of hair leading down Ari’s belly and lower. Scooping more honey from the bowl, you knelt at Ari’s feet and dragged both hands up his muscular legs, until you gripped his ass.

Your breath quickened as you stared at the half-hard cock rising toward Ari’s belly. Slowly, you swiped your hands from the back of his thighs to the front, using all of your melting will to not taste him right away.

Instead, you boldly looked up. Ari’s pupils were blown wide as he stared at you - on your knees, lips inches away from his cock, about to mark it as a part of him for you to have. Holding his gaze, you wrapped your fingers around him. 

If it wasn’t for Ari’s self restraint, you probably would follow the instinct, the hunger tempting you to move your hand and start what would inevitably happen in a few minutes anyway. After all, sex was the culmination of the ceremony. But Ari’s own fingers gently caught your wrist. 

He helped you up. Again that night. 

For as amused as she had to be, Alara didn’t spare you a knowing, mocking look. She put the bowl away and picked another dish. This one a simple terracotta pot, bearing marks of time. 

“For Nature, the Mother of us all,” Alara intoned, “make a pledge to the earth to show your readiness to fall in with the cycle.” 

Ari knelt down and started digging with his bare hands while you filled both hands with seeds and flower bulbs from the terracotta pot. Kneeling on the ground as well, you planted them in the furrow created by Ari. Then both of you covered the seeds with soil, your hands joined as you did so. 

You washed your hands in the bassinet with fresh water that Alara placed beside you. She poured into it what was left of the honey mixture, then dipped a small bouquet of ferns in it and used them to sprinkle the mixture over you and Ari.

“Blessed be this union!” Alara bellowed, hands stretched high toward the night sky. “Moon, our goddess! As you cast your light upon your favored, embrace his mate. Through the eyes of the witnesses gathered here, watch as they seal their claim on each other.”

Arms slowly dropping, Alara stared at you as she took a few steps backwards. Silence stretched in tense anticipation. 

It dawned on you then. That was the most important part. The culmination.

And there were people around, about to witness your coupling. 

Ari’s hand cupped your chin, preventing you from looking anywhere else but him. No one else should matter now. No other shifter, no woodland creature, nor the stars peppering the sky. There was only your mate. 

He tilted your head back slightly and leaned in. Tip of Ari’s tongue flicked against your bottom lip, licking off the sweetness. Lips trailed sticky kisses across your cheek, until his breath tickled the shell of your ear.

“You’re ready, little Omega,” he purred, slipping a hand between your thighs. 

At the bold touch of his fingers spreading your slick folds, your hands flew to Ari’s shoulders. Fingernails of your right hand needled his skin, while you gripped a fistful of his hair with the other. 

“You’re already mine,” he sounded more than pleased; he sounded drunk on victory after months of chase. “But I’ll pound it into your tight pussy, so you feel that bond with every step.” 

He growled in satisfaction as you moaned, rocking your hips into his hand. He stretched you with a firm stroke of his fingers, driving in two at once and pressing the heel of his palm into your clit. 

Gripping the back of your neck with his other hand, Ari kept pumping his fingers and curling them until your juices were spilling over his palm. 

“Ask me!” He demanded, licking off more of the honey around your mouth. 

“Alpha,” your voice was raspy and breathy, “fuck me! Knot me. Claim me!” 

It was only your heart soaring and fluttering like a hummingbird trapped in grip, though it felt as if the earth itself shuddered beneath you from the force and heat of Ari’s kiss. 

Perhaps there were more potent, illegal roots added to the mead Alara made you drink earlier, or to the honey mixture that soaked your bodies. Or maybe it was the vowed bond that grew taut and intense in its demand to be fulfilled in the most primal way.

Whatever spurred it, made you desperate. Needy. Your mouth opened pliant to Ari’s, ready to swallow whatever he fed you, ready to offer pleasure in return. Your hands roamed over his body; touching and squeezing and scratching. 

When he eased his fingers out of your fluttering cunt, you almost whined in protest. But then he was gripping your hips and flipping you onto your hands and knees. 

Your hindbrain took over, the wolf bitch coming to the surface just beneath your human skin. But it wasn’t only the wolf side that craved the warmth of Ari’s thighs pressing against the back of yours. Your human side wanted it to. The woman who resisted his claim was eager to bend forward and offer herself. 

One of Ari’s big hands gripped your hip, the other moved between your bodies to guid the tip of his cock into your entrance. 

With a broad lick up your spine, Ari laid his weight above you. He nipped the nape of your neck, more playful than he did in his wolf form, and you instinctively followed the unspoken command. You stretched your arms forward and dipped your upper body low, cheek pressed to the ground. 

“Good little Omega,” Ari purred, kissing your neck. 

A loud cry spilled from your lips, resounding through the clearing, maybe through the whole forest, when Ari sheathed himself inside you in one stroke. 

He paused. To relish in the feeling, or to give you a moment to adjust - if it was the latter, you didn’t think it would help. Ari wasn’t some monstrous beast to have a dick you couldn’t take. It was impressive, but in very reasonable size. And yet, something about it made you quiver in fear (and excitement) of being split in half. 

The first languid thrusts drew moans from both of you. Ari drove deep on each push, forcing your pussy to give up completely and nudging your cervix on a few passes. Then his pace increased, his filled heavy sack slapping against your clit. 

Rough fingers dug into your hip, undoubtedly leaving bruises that would bloom later. His other hand roamed below your body, squeezing your breasts, teasing your belly. Ari’s mouth was in constant movement along your neck and shoulders: kissing and licking, teeth grazing your skin in a prelude to the bite. 

You pushed up against him eagerly; the embarrassment at the sound of the skin slapping and wetness squelching on each thrust burned away. You didn’t care! Didn’t care who watched, or how loud you were, how you dripped. There was only need for more of Ari; need for him to help you chase that release you’ve been yearning for since your lips touched his. 

Fingers gouging the soil, you keened when on the next thrust Ari’s cock grazed a spot that instantly had you clenching around him. 

He groaned; the sound deep and low, sinking into your skin where Ari’s mouth hovered on your shoulder. 

Your pussy pulsed, tightening around his dick, and he only made things worse still fucking into you relentlessly; prolonging the madness of your fizzing pleasure and tipping you into another climax. 

Your scream rose as the blinding aftershocks of your orgasm were joined by the pain-and-pleasure shot of Ari’s teeth piercing your skin. 

He bit into the crook of your neck, his jaw locked mercilessly as he drew blood and mauled your skin. Few seconds later Ari gurgled his growl of pleasure with a mouthful of your blood, as he bottomed out inside your quivering cunt and his knot inflated. 

Another tremor rocked you, albeit softer, but stretching into infinity. A simmering orgasm that seemed to go on and on and on as spurts of thick cum filled you. As if each splash of Ari’s spend instigated a tiny climax. 

Harmonized howls resounded in the night, for the first time reminding you of the audience you had. The five chosen shifters who had to change their form into wolves at some point, though you didn’t even register when. 

You stayed locked with Ari for long minutes, your labored breaths synchronizing. Ari’s teeth retracted, his tongue soothing the wound. 

You’d be wearing that scar for months. Many more would be added, you suspected. Due to his possessiveness, or his primal nature so close to the surface, but you were certain Ari would be biting you every time he fucked you. He was going to leave marks of possession so visible other shifters would instantly drop their gaze upon catching a sight of them. 

Only you would be wearing the bite. While mates tended to exchange bites, so each was marked as claimed, an Alpha couldn’t be bitten. Not even by his mate. 

For an Alpha a bite meant a loss of status, a chink in his power; it would be a sign of weakness and submission. Traits an Alpha couldn’t display.

But there were other ways a mate could mark an Alpha. Which is why you felt that need to scratch him from the beginning. To rake your nails down his back and over his chest, leaving deep red lines of your own possession. 

Still a little breathless, you reached one of your dirty hands behind you. Prickling Ari’s neck with your nails, you turned your head enough to kiss him. 

Slowly, Ari pulled back and moved your body along with him. You rose onto your hands and knees. Knot almost deflated, he withdrew from you inch by inch. Copious amount of fluid spilled out of you; a glistening mixture of your slick and Ari’s cum. 

It splashed onto the soil in thick drops; right over the seeds you planted earlier. 

With his arm across your front, Ari helped you up into a sitting position, serving for you as his recliner. Your head rested against his shoulder as he kept you spread; kept you exposed so the Moon and the others could see you dripping down. 

Alara knelt at your side, bowing her forehead almost to the ground then lifting it. She placed her right hand on top of Ari’s where it rested low on your belly.   

“As your essence has fertilized the seeds in the soil, may the Moon’s glow bless your fruitful coupling.”

Her hand didn’t linger, but Ari’s stayed splayed on your abdomen as Alara scooted back. You didn’t roll your eyes at the obvious eagerness to get you pregnant (both from Ari and the pack’s godi) only because you were still quite overwhelmed with the intensity of the whole ceremony. 

Also because there was still need thrumming in your pulse.

Alara signaled the other shifters and they approached in a practiced formation, back in their human forms. They each picked the dishes that were used in the ceremony, then followed Alara out of the clearing. 

You and Ari were left alone. 

His hand stayed on your belly, the other sliding up between your breasts, fingers curling around the front of your neck. Ari trailed small, soft kisses along your shoulder, then scraped your jaw with his teeth.

“This is what I imagined from the moment my eyes set on you for the first time,” he confessed, the undertone of pure satisfaction clear in his voice. 

“You wore a crown of flowers for the festivities and I knew I’d be taking off your bridal wreath and locking you on my knot.”

A tremor blew goosebumps on your skin. That very first evening you sensed trouble from catching the attention of an Alpha, but then you didn’t yet know how severe his determination was. He’d chase you to the end of the world to claim you. 

You twisted in his arms, facing him and climbing into his lap. You cupped Ari’s face, smudging dirt over his cheeks. You could’ve held onto your resentment and rebellion, making the whole experience and nearest future a very miserable for you both. Somehow, you couldn’t make yourself do that. Not even that morning, when fleeting thoughts of giving a last run crossed your mind. 

You were Ari’s now. As he was yours. 

He’s shown you over the weeks that he’s ready to build this relationship with you. If the way he led the pack was any indication of how he’d be as a mate, you had a chance of creating something indestructible. 

“And now you have me.” You rolled your hips, enjoying the twitch of his cock against your thigh. “Are you going to gloat?”

“A little bit,” Ari shrugged, flashing you a sexy grin. 

“Mostly-” he palmed your ass and pulled your hips upward- “I’m going to worship you.”

He dropped you down onto his cock, hissing in pleasure as your heat enveloped him again. Your small moan at the stretch made his eyes ignite. 

“Come, little Omega,” Ari laid down on his back and you braced your hands against his chest as you sank fully onto his cock. “Take me. Take your mate.” 

Ari groaned as your nails drew more lines across his body, leaving pink trails that would gain in color in a few hours. 

With his hands squeezing your ass, he urged you down as he thrust up into you. Your nails needled deeper, giving him a meek reflection of the sting you felt each time he bottomed out. When he knotted you again, you’d undoubtedly draw blood. 

Then he’d sink his teeth into you again, stating his undisputed dominance even as he allowed you to claw him.

Your wolf growled her pleasure at the prospect. 

[venerawrites]

Hi!! (: Could you maybe do some headcanons for what Gaara, Itachi, and Kakashi's type/ideal partner would be? In terms of personality, traits, looks, or anything else (: Also feel free to only do one of the above or add any other characters you'd want! Thank you!!

author's note: I love this request so much, I've been waiting for someone to ask me about Naruto characters' types, so I can rant about it. Thank you so much for sending this idea! :) <3

➤ Gaara

Occupation - Gaara's ideal partner would either be a civilian or someone who is involved in state politics (for example, a member of the Council). Knowing how dangerous the life of a shinobi is and how many enemies he has out there, I don't believe he would ever fall for a ninja.

Looks - while I don't think Gaara particularly cares for looks and appearances, his s/o has to be more or less presentable (especially if they are to be seen next to the Kazekage). I've always imagined him with a s/o, whose style resembles the style of the ancients- clothes made of white linen, gold jewellery (especially jewelled collars and bracelets), and different hair accessories, symbols of their status in the village. I also definitely see his s/o wearing makeup as both a way to protect their skin from the harsh climate and a way to compliment their look.

Personality - the ideal partner for Gaara has to be someone who is calm, gentle, and cares for the people, just as much as him. They definitely have to be patient (being in a relationship with him would definitely require a lot of patience!) and understanding person, who is able to accept him for who he is and what he has done in the past. Now, if his s/o is involved in politics of some sort, I definitely imagine them as someone who is calculating and cunning as well. While Gaara has years of experience as a Kazekage, I don't think he is a political strategist, so his partner would usually be the one influencing the other members of the Council or important figures from other villages, in order to further Suna's best interests.

➤ Itachi

Occupation - healer or a civilian, who lives a life completely dissociated with that of a ninja. Preferably someone who lives far away from the Land of Fire, in a remote village or by themselves, and also had never heard of him or his clan before.

Looks - I think Itachi would fall for someone who is very soft and innocent looking - someone who more or less remind him of his mother. As someone whose main occupation is to gather herbs or do some type of craft, I imagine his s/o preferring more simple clothing, in which they can move freely and comfortably. They would probably have tons of amulets/jewellery on them, the majority of which are heirlooms left by their family. Their style is what I would describe as "bohemian" with an emphasis on organic elements and nature.

Personality - I think Itachi's ideal partner is someone who can serve as some form of escape for him - a free-spirited and optimistic individual, who can offer a different view of the world. They have to be caring, sweet, and respectful, especially when it comes to Itachi's personal space. I think he would appreciate having someone, who won't poke their nose in his business too much and press him to open up to them before he is ready. Still, his s/o has to be someone confident, loyal and also very honest. He would benefit from someone, who would tell him openly what they think and would be his pillar of support in moments when he dwells in self-doubt and regret over the past.

➤ Kakashi

Occupation - there is a 99% for Kakashi to fall for a fellow shinobi or at least someone who had worked a shinobi at some point in their life. His work is pretty much his life, so I definitely see him with someone who can understand how demanding this job is, as well as how it can affect people's lives.

Looks - as long as their s/o does NOT resemble Rin or an Uchiha, he doesn't care. If his s/o is a ninja, they would probably wear the same shinobi attire as him most of the time. If they are not a ninja anymore, I imagine Kakashi with someone who still puts some effort in their appearance, but they don't overdo it. Not a "must", but I do imagine him with someone with either shoulder-length or long hair, so he can run his fingers through their locks as a gesture of love or while falling asleep.

Personality - his s/o has to be someone who is strong-willed, honest, and has a deep sense of community and caring about the people close to them. I imagine Kakashi being with someone who can easily take the role of a "parent" or "the wise adult" (as he has to do quite often) and who doesn't shy away from their responsibilities. His s/o has to be someone who he can share his burdens with and who would stay by his side through good and bad. I imagine Kakashi being with someone with a strong personality, who can sometimes act before they think, yet they always have others' best interests in mind. They would often have strong opinions of stuff and while this can lead with occasional clashes with Kakashi, he would appreciate their honesty and their willingness to argue for what they think it's right.

cc artwork: Sin Jong Hun

[evilminji]

You know how in Naruto, Sealing is a Finicky Art?

It's like computer coding, calligraphy, and symbolism had a super-powered/reality bending baby. You gotta think in VERY ADHD twirls and swirls too be any good at it. Which is why the Uzumaki rocked it so hard. But I digress.

Is Complexe AF.

Bends Reality and is EASY to fuck up.

Wanna bet? The BEST way to learn/use it? Is to copy already functioning examples? But Oh! How do you KNOW they are functioning? Safe? Well OBVIOUSLY, your Skilled At Seals teacher looks at it first! THEN gives it too you!

Using random seals you find in the dirt is how you get splattered across three different countryside in peices, after all. Possibly take out a nearly Town or two while your at it. No One Is THAT Dumb... RIGHT?

Enter Stage Right o/~☆ Humanity, Everybody! *polite, if strained, golf clapping*

They ABSOLUTELY Are!

Especially Ninja!

Ninja who, after fuckin MURDERING A WHOLE ASS VILLAGE OF SEALING MASTERS, decided to pick through the rubble! Because THAT is gonna work out GREAT! After all... it's not like you just KILLED the fuckers who could tell you what IS and IS NOT functional!

Was that once the "hazardous advanced class' sealing failures" bin? Or was it the "super awesome candy and rainbows" stash!? You don't know. NO ONE DOES NOW. You fuckin KILLED THE PEOPLE WHO DID.

They had their own REGIONAL Sealing Script.

You know, the one they taught to THEIR STUDENTS. Not outsiders. The students you KILLED, you absolute fuck nuggets. But hey! The threat of the Super Scary Sealing Masters is no more! Good job. You've successfully burned down the library. It can't hurt you ever again.

But NOW? You have piles upon piles of GIBBERISH.

You can only VAGUELY tell the novice seals from the master's. And even then? Do you have any idea what most of them DO? Nope. And after a certain point in training? The shaky, uncertain hand writing becomes smooth enough, that it all blends together in "Seals".

Now... what is the SMART thing to do?

Curse your hubris and the atrocities your fear allowed you to commit, obviously. But BEYOND that, Don't Touch Them. But we're Ninja. So WE are all suicidal idiots. The less smart but still Reasonably Precautionary thing to do? Study the amateur Seals. Learn Sealing from other masters.

Crack the Regional Script and slowly, painstakingly, work through each seal as we sort out what is and isn't safe. What can be salvaged. What can be used and how.

A process that will likely take years if not decades.

But of course, that's not GOOD ENOUGH for certain grabby handed, power hungry, short sighted, fuck weasels! No, no. It much EASIER to just throw human life into the blender until profit pops out! Completely IGNORING, of course, that SOME of these?

Could very well be the "Too Dangerous To Ever Use/Will Destroy Us All/Take Them All With Us" type of Seals that Kage usually LOCK UP. The kind you CAN'T destroy once you've made them, because the fall out would be WORSE. And?

Even if you are a murderous, middle management, go nowhere in your life, BASTARD of a ninja? Sometimes you can look down at the massive, intricately detailed, killer off nation's before you. Something that was WRAPPED in locks upon locks upon chains upon seals. And KNOW in your selfish, survival at all costs little heart... You DO NOT want anyone to fuck with this.

You CAN NOT let anyone fuck with this.

NO ONE can be allowed to touch it.

Not for ANYTHING.

You may fear S Class Kage and Missing Nin and what all else they may do to you. But THIS? Your eyes can't even properly FOCUS on it. It's like a tunnel that's lined with poetry, stretching all the way to the Earth's core. It's perfectly flat. It moves, a gentle rotation. But is that just your eyes, tricking you?

So much ink, it swallows the scroll, and this is when it's COMPRESSED.

How many nations?

How many NATIONS must this monstrosity span, when free?

It must have taken a Master decades, if not their entire life, to complete. Possibly a family, several generations. But... but gods it is a work of MADNESS. No wonder it was sealed. It speak, you... you THINK... of Death...

Of it's KING.

Something BEYOND the Shinigami. BEYOND Death and the Purelands.

Who the FUCK would try to summon something beyond GODS? Did they think they could control it? Chain it like the bijuu? You're so cold inside. Because you KNOW. You fucking KNOW, the ambitions and arrogance of those above you.

They'll think they can.

They won't listen.

You... you have to take this and RUN. You stand no chance. But no chance is better then oblivion. Anything is better then standing by and watching it happen.

You obviously don't make it. You never expected too. But at least... at least you won't have to watch whatever THAT is... arrive... fuck...

At least you TRIED.

And? Because leaf Ninja, specifically certain teams, have the MOST Shit luck imaginable? They arrive, having crossed paths with several other teams, on the way back home (yay! Warm food and real beds!) Just in time to see a desperate looking ninja from one of the small villages get fuckin pincushioned. Drop what is VERY clearly an Uzushio Scroll of considerable size and SEVERE SSS+ DO Not EVER Touch Grade Type Markings, and then some joining from that same village go to grab it.

Notice them.

You know... the multiple LEAF NINJA. Who TOO THIS DAY, wear the UZU swirl on their uniforms as a mourning tribute to the DEAR AND PRECIOUS ALLIES they could not save. The Uzushio Allies. Those ones. The ones that were, in fact, from Uzushio.

LIKE THE SCROLL YOU ARE HOLDING.

By the WAY! How DID you get that Scroll? Doesn't seem like something our dear friends would just HAND over, now does it? You didn't happen to LOOT THEIR FUCKIN GRAVES did you? Cause we sure would be MAD about that!

:)

Real Mad.

Dude obviously panics. Because that? That is a VERY pissed off bunch of Ninja, many in the bingo book, one of whom is Very Clearly throwing off BIJUU CHAKRA. And just said "my family's" Ha ha... Oh Shit that's an Uzumaki.

So he decides to USE THE SEAL.

What does it do?

He doesn't know! But it's probably SOMETHING big and impressive, right?

Yes. :) Yes it Does.

*Crack*

The SKY cracks. Like a pane of glass, struck by a hammer. Spiderwebbing as far as the eye can see above them, all from one central point, directly above the seal. The cracks there are concentrated. A point of impact. And through the cracks... something GREEN shines.

Brighter then the daylight around it, yet darker in color then the blue of the sky. Lazily whisping out like escaping mist. Time seems slow as their eyes all whip up wards. Even with senses beyond the normal human base, it is... inconceivable. SOMETHING winds back. They can not see it.

But they can feel it.

Like changing pressure as a storm rolls in.

*Crack!*

Green overtakes the blue. The sky a Kaleidescape of shards, held together by stubbornness alone. Reflecting a calm day that seems IMPOSSIBLE in the face of what's occurring. There should be wind. Great pressure changes in the face of so much FORCE, but the trees are eerily still.. utterly silent..

Nothing dares bring attention to itself.

Some distant part of their minds try to gather the thought that... that it could be an illusion. They... they should check. But they can FEEL it. Like a weight draped gently but without mercy upon their shoulders. It did not slam. But... but they can not move. Can barely breathe. It is beyond killing intent.

It is simply...

DEATH.

*CRASH!*

At last, the sky gives way. A fist, the size of towers punching through. It... it is almost elegant. A ring, almost in the shinigami's visage, wraps itself in a howling and snarled menace, around a great shining finger. A glove protects almost delicate looking, claw tipped fingers. The fist pulls back. Shard of sky falling, Floating, suspended in their moment of destruction, a glittering frame for the gapping wound that has overtaken everything.

Death...

Death has Green Eyes.

A crown of ice and starlight, pulled straight from the coldest north, hair that drifts like the drowned. His skin is that of a corpse. His breath a coldness that seems to suck all warmth from the world. There is no rage, no great irritation, his face merely twisted in slight annoyance. Mild displeasure.

And yet it feels like their greatest sin.

It BURNS.

They are ants. Less then ants. He... He LOOMS so TALL. The Green BURNS into their eyes, into their veins, chokes their lungs. The silence stretches. Those great eyes, the eyes of a GOD, move from them. To the man with the Seal.

He dies instantly.

Shit.

They... they need to... to...

Naruto wanders over and picks up the scroll, completely ignore the Giant Sky God Of Death and how all his friends are frozen in primordial fear. He roughly shakes the dirt off the delicate old relic, then squint at it. Figures he's holding it upside-down. Flipping it, he squints harder. Tilts his head and hums.

"Oh!"

He holds his hand up, turning to look at the terrifying Deity From Beyond Comprehension.

"It's me! I'm the Uzumaki! But, uh, I didn't actually summon you? Our stuff got stolen. Which really sucks!" He looks down again, brings the paper nearly to his nose trying to make out some thing. "Uuuuuh, huh. Got it! Can you get smaller? I don't got any BBQ or anything ON me right now, but Choji's Family makes REALLY good food! We can go out to eat? Ooh ooh! Maybe RAMEN! You like Ramen, right?!"

"Yep, Definitely one of Shouta's."

Rumbles The Actual Fucking King Of Death, shaking the trees and ground under your feet. As you probably stare at your fellow Leaf Nin like WTF.

"Sure, man. Give me a second."

And suddenly? He's leaning forward. Shrinking and twisting in ways that are painful to look at. The sky is... is not healing, so much as UNcracking. Rewinding itself to a pristine state. Until only a large, floating, armored God in black and white floats above you. Glowing.

One that... that is apparently FRIENDS with the Uzumaki Clan.

Because of course he is.

Naruto's introducing his Toads. And teammates. You almost feel bad for Hatake. But like? Better you then me, buddy. THEN? Death? Decides? For some inconceivable reason. "You know what? Im'ma just turn into a human WITH NO CHAKRA NETWORK. Reeeeeally freak out the locals."

And now Leaf is INCHARGE of entertaining A GOD until he decides to leave.

Or (presumably) Else.

And!! Because life loves to kick ninjas IN THE BALLS (for their stupid, STUPID life choices, YOU FUCKERS) it just HAD to be the One God? That can SEE DEAD PEOPLE. Because it's not like ninjas have Death Related Traumas or anything!

*internal ninja screaming*

Feed the guy some BBQ! Stat! Please Akimichi! Save us!

@hdgnj @hypewinter @the-witchhunter @ailithnight @nerdpoe @mutable-manifestation

[angel-of-the-moons]

The Arm of a God (And Other Things)

Khonshu x Fem!Reader

Summary:

You take a week-long hiking trip alone, despite the warnings at the lodge from experienced hikers.

But were you truly alone?

No. Never.

The bears and mountain lions were the least of your concerns. In fact...

They never were to begin with.

TW/CW: NSFW, Smut, PiV sex, unprotected sex, size difference, reader is a size queen, needy(?)Khonshu, creampie, ngl it's a lot like the dude's a god and like 9 feet tall I refuse to believe every part of his anatomy isn't proportionate to the rest of him, like he has a breeding kink?? God of fertility hellooooooo

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

Taglist: @drinkingwithkhonshu @gingersforeverbox @manque-damour @nikkivenomized

🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙

"Look, kid, no offense but..." The older man replied to you, his thick, bushy eyebrows pinched with concern for your well-being, "It's dangerous out there if you're alone. And compared to a bear, you're a small snack."

You smile at the old man, briefly taking in his far more rugged appearance. He looked every part of a human grizzly bear; large, imposing, muscular. He could probably take an actual grizzly bear in a bare-knuckle fight and come out even. He was an experienced hiker, a man born for the wilderness.

His concern for you was sweet. Compared to him, you were a tiny porcelain teacup; clean, and fragile. Sure you looked that way, but you trusted yourself and your abilities.

You looked small... but you weren't helpless. And you never had to worry in any of your travels.

"Thank you for your concern, but I'm covered." You chuckle sweetly, tapping the pendant around your neck. It was a small stone, scribbled with some sort of symbols, a crescent moon featured most prominently.

He squinted his green eyes at the necklace. He obviously couldn't understand what they said, but he understood it was some sort of religious object.

"Look kid, god can only do so much if a brown bear raids your camp in the middle o' the night." He says, clicking his teeth.

"Trust me. I got my bear spray, a good taser, a machete..." You begin listing off your protective items, some of which were bullshit. Most of your items in your pack were food and other important supplies.

He seemed impressed once you were done, stroking his thick beard approvingly. "All right, I s'pose. But since you've checked in here, there's a policy you tune into the lodge's frequency so if anything happens, we can come get ya."

To show how serious you took his advice--even if it wasn't needed--you pulled out your radio. It had about a 30 kilometer radius. An expensive purchase, to be sure, but a nice one. You tune it to the frequency he tells you and look at him as you clip it back to your pack securely.

"Anything else?" You chirp.

"Nope... Just... Be careful. The weather can get kinda crazy further up the mountain." He grunts.

You turn, giving a playful salute as you do, dragging deep into your lungs the air of the mountains after a fresh morning rain.

You weren't afraid for what the night brought. Not at all. But you knew that you've never had to be afraid when the moon rose.

Not when you had faith.

🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙

You'd made good progress, only having to stop and rest a few times throughout the day, free-climbing a few boulders here and there, and to check your map. Your destination was an old burnt-down mansion that was destroyed in a bad storm sometime in the 1920s. So, over a hundred years ago.

Nobody really knew about them or bothered to find them because they were so far off the beaten path, but you marked your trail to find your way back. If you even got lost in the first place.

The first time you found out about this place was a small article written by a backpacker who explored forgotten ruins on YouTube. Yeah, they aren't as exciting as climbing a pyramid down in South America, but to you they were. You adored finding them and exploring them, touching pieces of recent history that were forgotten far quicker than ruins from thousands of years ago.

And when you found them, you tossed your pack down and did a happy little dance; they were amazing! The walls were made of river stone, joined by concrete and held up merely by their own sturdy construction. Some of the walls had fallen due to time, but you could easily make out a few old windows and doorways. Every inch of the ruins was covered in moss, shrubbery, and old and young trees embracing what was left.

You'd even climbed an old stairway you found in the back for fun; it may have led to the worker's lodgings, or.... hell maybe just another entrance to the second floor.

But now, the sun was gone, and you'd set up camp in the middle of the ruins, where a small pond had formed thanks to a depression in the ground. Perhaps the remains of a basement or cellar that had caved in due to the fire and passage of time.

Your fire crackled as you let your water purifier do it's job, your clean water dripping into your canteen with a steady "drip, drip, drip".

You finished off your pre-packaged meal--a nice packet of spaghetti and meatballs with some extra protein powder thrown in--and was now letting it settle, laying on your plush sleeping bag as you stared at the night sky, the moon fat as it hung from the stars; your fingers brushing and caressing the small pendant around your neck.

"I am not surprised to find you in a place like this." A heavy voice echoed off the stone walls.

You sat up on your elbows and lifted your gaze, smiling as you spot him--a large, lithe figure perched casually on the ruins, the light of the moon illuminating the eerie bird skull in place of his head.

"You know how much I love doing this." You remind him.

"Yes, I know." His voice said softly, his body moving in a blur. In a moment, he was standing above you.

You crossed your arms behind your head and grinned up at him. "It's been a month... Having fun with your Moon Guy?"

"My Moon Knight." He corrects, moving to sit next to you, laying his staff down on the remnants of the stone floor, little bits of grass and foliage peeking through the crags.

"Yeah, yeah." You snort, turning to roll on your side to grin at him again, resting your head in the palm of your hand.

"So... Read on the internet about some crazy shit going down in Egypt. And... It felt like you were gone. What happened with that?"

"Ammit and her cult. My Moon Knight and Taweret's Avatar stopped her. My Fist killed her Avatar." He said slowly. "And for meddling with the heavens... The Ennead imprisoned me, briefly."

You sat up fully, shocked by this news. "What? H-how... Why did--"

His fingers brush your lips to silence you, the touch feather light but enough to cease your speaking.

"It is settled, now. Don't worry." He says to you gently, his hand moving to cup your cheek, his warm palm heating your skin while his thumb brushes your cheek.

You close your eyes and sigh, frowning at him. "Damn you, old man... Don't worry me like that again, or I'll kill you."

"Of course. I wouldn't dare incur your wrath." He chuckled.

"Damn straight you won't." You sigh; his hand moved down your throat to encircle you, flattening on your upper back to pull you against him so you were astride in his lap.

You slowly slide your hands up his bandaged chest, feeling his heat bleed through your skin and warm you to your core. Your fingers toy with the large crescent moon fixed to his chest, brushing his flowing robes off to the sides.

"You are a force of nature," He hums, his other hand sliding down to completely encapsulate your ass and pull you tighter against him.

"One I have come to appreciate far more after my imprisonment."

You chuckle and watch as the strips of linen as soft as a moth's wing fall away into wisps of mist, leaving his almost searing hot skin bare to your touch.

His skin was a lifeless monochrome, ashen color, but it wasn't lacking in life at all, far from it. You could feel his godly heart thump in his chest, feel his muscles twitch as you touched him.

And already, you could feel the hard length of him pressing against you, swelling and twitching as it came to life as well.

It felt like his arousal flooded into you, spreading through your core and riling you up. You could already feel yourself soaking through your underwear, a dark stain soaking through your pants.

Sometimes you wished he could come to you at home; or in a motel room at least, so you can wear something nice for him, some lingerie or...

His fingers brushed your lips once again and he tapped them twice, signaling for you to open.

You obey silently, letting the soft pads of his index and middle finger part your jaws, caressing the muscle of your tongue, your eyes locking with his own eyeless gaze.

A rumble comes from him, and he groans as you roll your hips against his erection, the want and heat almost burning you inside and out.

One of your hands shoves down to undo your belt and unbutton your pants, and Khonshu withdraws his fingers from your mouth and almost dizzingly fast, his hand was shoved into your underwear, toying with your swollen clit.

You moan softly, your own small hands gripping at the gold collar on him for stability as one of his large fingers dips into your tight hole.

He grinds his palm into your clit as his finger curled and pressed against that overly sensitive spot on the walls of your cunt.

"Tight..." Khonshu growled, his other hand rolling your hips in time with his other hand. "You need to relax for me, love."

"T-Trying..." You pant, feeling the cool texture of his smooth dry beak caress against the blazing heat of your cheek.

"Hmmmh." He sighed and retracted his hands from you. "Get undressed. I need you to lie back."

You scramble off of his lap, watching his throbbing length bob eagerly as you peel your clothes off of you, lying back on your sleeping bag, spreading your legs for him to see every inch of you that was ready and waiting for him.

He had been gone for a month, and you knew on some nights, even when he wasn't there with you physically, you knew he would watch as you'd touch yourself to thoughts of him. No mortal man could ever compare to the love and carnal touch of a god, and he always felt a pang of guilt when he had to leave you for whatever duties he had.

But your reunions always ended this way, heat, lust and sheer want for companionship. You had started praying to him when you felt other religions didn't do it for you, finding that you being the wanderer that you were, would find more solace in prayer to a god who protected those like you.

And you certainly didn't expect to catch his eye, let alone capture his heart the way that you had.

His hand rests on your knee, thumb caressing the bones beneath the skin as he leans over you. He couldn't kiss you, but you always made sure that was never a problem, even now, as you tipped your head to place a soft kiss to the smooth side of his beak.

"Fuck--" You groaned, dropping your head back onto your travel pillow when his other hand rediscovered its place against your weeping sex, his thumb rolling small circles over your engorged clit while his other two fingers glide over your entrance; the muscles fluttering in anticipation of what was to come.

You squirm with impatience as each swipe of his fingers only serves to ignite a hotter flame burning low in your loins.

"Khonshu." You breathed.

When you said his name like that, it was always sweeter than any offering or prayer he has received. More uplifting than knowing his works uproots evil to protect the innocent, more delicious than watching Ammit and Harrow die at the end of Jake's gun.

"Just a bit more." He tightly reprimands, his other hand squeezing your knee to remind you to relax.

"You're such a damn tease." You whine, wiping one of your hands down your face, biting your lip and gripping your hair as his fingers inch slowly into your tight, hot hole.

Another deep, rumbling groan comes from him as he feels your body grip him like he was your reason for breathing; dragging, squeezing, pleading for him to just take you already....

But he wouldn't--couldn't--until your body had adjusted enough for this to be pleasurable for you as much as him. He was larger than a human man, and he knew your body was fragile compared to his.

Of course, he always felt smug and prideful when he acknowledged the fact he probably ruined you for any mortal man you may decide to bed one day. Because, honestly, now.

What mortal man can compare to a god in both love and in the bedroom?

You arched your hips up off the ground with a moan, whimpering out his name when his fingers curled upwards. But by bit he could feel your muscles ease up around him, your sweet body becoming slick and welcoming.

Sometimes he would get so mesmerized in how your body reacted just to his fingers that he neglected his cock entirely in focus on you.

He could feel your gummy walls press down on his fingers, fluttering around him as he pumped and curled them inside of you, fingering you open so you could take him fully.

He said your name so softly that it crackled like dry leaves on the wind, and you had to lazily drag your eyes open to look at him, the moon and stars shining above and behind him.

He was beautiful, in his own macabre sort of way...

Oh, if the Ennead knew he was fucking you, you both would probably be in heaps of trouble. But you always figured "bring it on" because you had some choice words for those bastards if you ever had the chance to meet them.

But those were thoughts for later, right now you were focused on your impending orgasm as his fingers scissored inside of you, pushing you closer and closer to that peak so when he pushed inside of you with his cock you wouldn't hurt (or bleed, as that has happened before when the two of you got overzealous).

And of course, right as you were about to cum, your whole body electrified to the point you actually thought you saw sparks in your peripheral vision... Khonshu pulled his fingers free of your wanting body.

You practically sobbed in frustration as your climax was taken from you so abruptly. It was a favorite thing of his to do to you; edging you like he does. But you knew it was for more selfish reasons than anything else.

He leaned over you, bracing his body on his forearms as he gently brushed your head with his beak--his closest approximation of a kiss--and you felt something warm and wet drip onto your belly.

Sparing a glance down, you pant softly as you watch the faintly glowing fluid drip from the tip of his cock; the very tip of it flushed the tiniest shade of pink on his otherwise colorless body. Maybe once upon a time his skin was a different color, but in his exile, it has become so dull.

"Are you ready." He grits out. More a statement than a question, really, as he knew your answer beforehand. But it was important to him that you never had any reservations.

He would not take without first receiving consent from you, without giving.

He was not Set, after all.

"Please." You breathe, reaching out to touch his cock, fingers brushing along the silky soft skin, smearing the precum over the tip with your thumb; earning a delicious groan from him.

He grunts softly, nodding as he lets you guide his weeping cock through your slick folds and to your hole.

It was always breath-stealing, the moment he pushed into you, his thick girth spearing you open and filling you so full you swore he was buried in your guts.

You kept your hand low, feeling him as he slowly slid further inside of you, a hiss coming from him. You were relaxed now, yes... but still so tight because of your comparative sizes that it knocked him off kilter; your heat enveloping him so welcomingly as though he was coming home again.

"K-Khonshu!" You hiccuped, your eyes rolling back into your head as you felt him fill you.

Khonshu's leg moves, pushing your thigh and nudging your legs open for him further; the both of you making low breathy sounds as your body squeezed him instinctively at the action.

"I'm... going to move, now." He snarls, reaching down to caress your thigh as he pulls back, your body desperately clinging to him, begging him to stay inside.

Your nails claw at his arms as you grit your teeth, sweat beading your brow as you feel him slide out inch by torturous inch before rolling his hips back into yours, filling you up almost as quickly as he pulled away.

"Oh--oh--" You whine, barely able to speak or form coherent thoughts as Khonshu starts arching his back and rolling his hips at the right angle to make your brain turn to mush.

The first time he had you, you thought you actually died. He had you ride his fingers until you couldn't move, and then he had you pinned, still thrusting his hand inside of you, coaxing and caressing your muscles to allow him entrance.

You did bleed, of course, because of his size. You'd had human bed partners, yes, but none compared to him in any way. You'd probably never be able to look at a human cock again and get as excited as you did when Khonshu teased you.

Oh, how strange it was... Gods often looked down at mortals because of their fallacies, not unlike their own in some ways... But lifetimes ago, the Old Gods of Egypt kept close relationships with their mortal followers. Of course... None had gone so far as to lay with them like Khonshu had done with you.

You'd tried to tease him, the first time you got intimate, that you were his first.

That's when he proved to you that just because you were his first human, didn't mean you were his first bedroom partner.

The way he made love to you was ethereal, almost entirely unreal. It was so good that sometimes you thought you'd dreamt it.

"Khonshu, I'm..." You moan, lifting your hips off of the ground to meet his thrusts as they picked up speed.

Khonshu watched you, his eyeless gaze boring holes into you as he studied your face, as beautiful as the most detailed works of art in human history as you came undone around him, soaking his skin as your body pushes every wave of your climax out.

His pace faltered, and he collapsed back onto his forearms as your legs locked around him, digging into the taut muscles of his glutes as your orgasm nearly knocked him senseless for a moment.

He gripped your sleeping bag tight in one hand as his pace quickened, desperate to taste his own release that threatened to swell up inside of him.

"Almost." He says, his voice wavering.

"Do it." You moan loudly, dragging your nails down his back desperately.

"Hrr--you--" He moaned back, his other hand moving back to grip your thigh so tightly you'd be feeling the bruises for days onward, even in his absence.

"Please."

"You... are... always... so... greedy." He snaps out with each thrust of his hips, the sinful sound of skin slapping skin and your cries filling the ruins.

"Is--Is it really being greedy if you--you want to--want--" Your voice breaks apart as he angles his hips up, his cock throbbing and twitching inside of you as he pumps you full, the sensation of being so utterly stuffed enough to push you into your second orgasm, forcing out globs of his glowing seed around his cock as he fucks you through both your orgasms, riding our your highs together in a blissful, mind-numbing spiral.

You were vaguely aware when he pulled his cock free of your body, barely grasping at the threads of consciousness as he looked down at you, his thumb pressing into your lower belly as he watched his divine seed drip from you.

He half wondered, if maybe you would get pregnant. Wondered what kind of child you would bear. A demi-god, surely, but what kind? In his pantheon, the children of their parents rarely shared the same aspects. Save for some overlapping connectivities, that is...

He could almost see your belly swell, nice and round... And felt something tug deep within his chest, a drive to see if this little thought bubble could burst--to see if his imagination would be a reality and bear fruit.

But, of course... His mind was dragged to the forefront of reality when your shaky little hand caressed the skull that was his head, your eyes drowsy and satiated as you smiled up at him, your god, your protector.

Your lover.

As he laid next to you, he curled your body with his and watched as the last embers of your fire burned away, leaving you only haloed in the soft, silver rays of his moon.

He couldn't believe he ever found you

[trulyumai]

meeting the golden rays

—pairing: Godwyn the Golden / reader (before the fall)

synopsis: accidentally stumbling upon the library, the lord comes across you. since then, he’s been smitten.

—warnings: nooooone. fluff!

a/n: another request fulfilled! thank you anonymous.

enjoy!

The grand library of Leyndell was a sanctuary of knowledge, its towering shelves filled with ancient tomes that told the stories of the Lands Between. As the Keeper of Knowledge, you spent your days immersed in the whispers of history, the aroma of aged parchment filling the air. you worked tirelessly, day and night. even opted to sleeping in said room every now and again just to fulfill the needs of the order.

One.. particular afternoon, as you meticulously sorted through a stack of books on the expansion of the Erdtrees, the heavy wooden door creaked open. You glanced up, surprised to find Godwyn the Golden just standing there, a look of embarrassment on his pale face.

“Oh! Apologies for barging in!” he blurted out, his voice carrying a hint of panic. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Although he was a man of high stature the walls and corridors still confused him. not used to such a vast amount of entry ways, godwyn decided to go exploring. and now he was here.. bothering a knowledge bearer no less.

Caught off guard by the presence of such an esteemed figure, you felt your cheeks heat up. “N-No, it’s alright, my lord! I was just… um… working,” you stammered, scrambling to regain your composure. Your fingers gripped against your dress, meticulously working against the soft material before the man nodded his head.

What do you do… what do you say to such a figure of the order?!

In a moment of sheer impulse, you recalled a fact that had intrigued you earlier. “Did you know that the Moonlight Flower only blooms under the light of the full moon? It symbolizes the cycle of life and death in the Lands Between!”

Godwyn paused, eyes sweeping from the mirage of books to your smaller form. his expression shifted from surprise to amusement. He chuckled instantly. the sound warm and inviting. “I had no idea! I suppose even a prince can learn something new about the world.”

His laughter was infectious, and you couldn’t help but smile back, the tension in the room dissipating. “It’s a beautiful flower,” you added, feeling a little bolder. “Some say it even has the power to guide lost souls.”

“Perhaps I should seek it out,” he said, leaning against a nearby shelf, his golden armor gleaming in the light. “I could use a little guidance myself it seems.”

- - -

As the days passed, Godwyn became a regular visitor to the library, each encounter filled with laughter and light. He would share stories of his training and the weight of his responsibilities as a member of the Golden Order. In return, you offered insights and facts about the history and flora of the Lands Between, each exchange weaving a deeper connection between you.

One evening, while you both poured over an ancient text about the Golden Lineage, your fingers accidentally brushed against his while reaching for the same passage. Both of you froze, an apology already bursting out of your lips

“My lord!” you exclaimed, pulling your hand back as a blush crept across your face. What have you done, what have you— “I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine,” Godwyn replied, interrupting your stammering. a shy smile breaking through his surprise as he brushed his hair back with a light flick.

“I didn’t mind, such a lovely lady can touch me anytime she pleases, hm?”

What? You had to have heard him wrong.

As you both tried to resume your reading, the tension lingered, and you found yourself stealing glances at him. He caught your eye, smiling back at your flustered form with newfound confidence. His arm came around your chair, finding home upon the back of the wood before he leaned in once more, asking about Erd Flowers.

- - -

One fateful day, as dusk fell over Leyndell, you climbed a rickety ladder to retrieve a particularly old tome from the top shelf. “Just a little higher,” you muttered to yourself, stretching for the book. Suddenly, the ladder snapped, it wobbled dangerously, and you felt yourself tipping backward.

Godwyn, who was just walking in with a sack of goodies (most likely flowers and plants from his outing) bolted forward with protective purpose

“Careful, my love!” Godwyn shouted, panic surging through his voice. He dashed forward, arms outstretched, and caught you just in time. You fell into his embrace, the world around you fading into a comforting blur.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his golden eyes wide with concern.

“I.. think so ,” you replied, it came off as a question, as your hair tangled itself upon his armor. breathless from both the fall and the closeness of his presence you looked up, gasping at the man looking sternly down at you.

“What have I told you? Only in my presence can you climb on that absurd thing!” And although he was mad, fuming with impatient worry, you felt giddy, happy to be the stem of the man’s attention.

Without even thinking your neck strained upwards, a light kiss graced the man’s cheek and you pulled back quickly. Like a fire had spread out across your pink lips.

His eyes widened in shock, a deep blush already blooming across his face. “I—uh… that’s—” he couldn’t even remember what he was talking about. Only seeing you, and your flustered face, messy hair.

“I’m so sorry, godw— my lord!” you stammered, insulted by your own boldness. “I just wanted to thank you and— and you were really upset so I didn’t know what to do and.. and—.”

A hand, big and warm covered your mouth. his voice rang out shakily yet with dear earnest. “It’s.. alright. I liked it.”

“You did?”

He hummed. “I did.” His gloveless fingers swept away the hair that matted the front of your face. You could see him clearly now. Him and the loving stare that graced his features.

“Did you know erd leaf flowers are remembrance’s of—“

“Light,” Godwyn laughed, deep and warm to the core.

“Yes, love, I did.”

[not-wholly-unheroic]

I recently found a copy of the graphic novel version of Straight on Til Morning at my local used bookstore and got a great deal so I wanted to share a few of my likes, dislikes, and general observations. I’d been meaning to write up a proper review of the book for awhile now but have been SUPER behind. Anyway, the graphic novel follows the book pretty closely and I’ll be sharing some images from it, so this WILL CONTAIN SPOILERS for those of you who haven’t read it.

First off, the artwork for the graphic novel is beautiful and some scenes are illustrated in a really creative way. For example, I love the depiction of this particular scene where Wendy is writing her stories and Hook sort of…comes to life off the page.

I also really love that while (most of) the characters are still recognizably Disney’s version…they also look a tad more realistic and have some of the illustrator’s own personal interpretation mixed in.

George Darling is a great example. In the graphic novel he is slimmer than in the film and looks remarkably like J.M. Barrie…which I have to consider was probably intentional.

And then there’s the Lost Boys in their animal costumes…Tootles, Skipper (excuse me, this is Nibs erasure—you can add Skipper but don’t just eliminate Nibs!), Slightly, Cubby, and the Twins.

The pirates, however, are a totally different story. Who the heck are these guys???

Anyway… at least they get Hook’s personality right. I love this bit, in particular, where one of the pirates gets a little rough with Wendy and Hook is having none of it. Also, the idea of Hook capturing Wendy to be a mother to the crew is a nice nod to the book.

One big complaint I do have is that the characters are, on occasion, a little TOO self-aware. Like in this scene where one of the pirates makes a sort of on-the-nose observation about Hook’s feud with Pan.

But I will admit, I did cackle at Hook’s reaction.

He said would you please stop trying to psychoanalyze me and look for symbolism and just let the story be about a boy and a pirate? (Hook, how do you even know who Freud is??)

You may have noticed by now that I haven’t said anything about Peter… That’s because Peter barely features in the story at all and honestly when he does show up, he’s…kinda useless and clueless. Now, admittedly, Wendy is meant to be older in this (around 16) so of course, it’s reasonable to think she might not quite view him the same way she did at 12…but in having her team up with Tink to do all the heavy-lifting of the plot (because, ya know, girlpower and all that), Peter sort of ends up not really doing anything. I’d almost rather have an evil Pan, as annoying as that trope is because at least then he actually does something. In this story, it truly feels like Wendy has just…outgrown Peter altogether. And that hurts.

Speaking of which…ya know what hurts even more for me as a Hook fan? THIS.

This poor man is curled up on the deck in the fetal position, terrified of a crocodile who has been long-dead, crying out for a best friend who never even existed except inside his own mind because he was so alone that he made him up.

O W !! Why would you do this to me, Disney?!

It ends for Hook with the crew deciding to drop him off somewhere with enough gold to pay for his keep and hire a caretaker because he’s so mentally unstable they don’t trust him to live by himself.

I hate to say it, but honestly, watching him die would be less painful. At least that would be over with fairly quickly. This just hurts.

But everyone else lives happily ever after, so it’s okay, right? Right??? 😫😭 (Don’t mind me, I’ll just be over here in the corner, crying over my pirate boy.)

[crustaceousfaggot]

So I've been thinking a lot about the setting of Disco Elysium. Specifically it being set in late winter/early spring. It's not something I've really seen anyone else bring up.

I mean, the symbolism seems pretty obvious right? Spring is the time of new beginnings, winter is ending and we're entering a time of potential and rebirth. Definitely nothing new. But I think it goes beyond that.

I live in one of the coldest major cities in the world. Not *the* coldest, but you'll be hard-pressed to find a city with over 1,000,000 inhabitants that gets colder than it gets here. Winters are long and brutal and difficult, and when the soil itself is frozen and covered in a foot of packed snow it's really hard to believe that the world could look any other way.

And don't get me wrong, winter is beautiful. The world is quiet and picturesque. There's none of the usual dirt and debris in the streets because it's all buried under the snow. The way that fresh snow sparkles under street lights at night is one of the most breathtakingly gorgeous things I've ever seen.

It's early April right now, and the snow is melting. It's not all gone, but it's getting there. When the air starts to warm up there's this feeling of excitement and anticipation in the air. Spring is here, and any second now the world will be bursting with new life and beautiful greenery.

But it's not. Not yet.

For about a month and a half after the snow starts to melt, the world is grey. No glittering snow, no budding flowers, no swirling red leaves, just puddles of brown water and lawns of brown grass. It's like winter had ended, but the world has yet to realize that it's supposed to be spring. Until it remembers, we're all trapped in a world where there is no season at all.

Sometimes it snows, but the snow never sticks around. Sometimes it rains, but the rain never brings flowers in its wake.

That last month of winter, that first month of spring, whatever you want to call it, is my least favourite time of year. I heard it described once as "the long-preserved corpse of autumn, finally allowed to rot", and that phrase stuck with me. There are eight month old leaves on the ground, skeletal and bleached grey by a winter trapped under the ice. Without the snow to cover it, you can't ignore just how much we've let our city go to shit. The trees are bare and skeletal, and even the evergreens look washed out and grey when they're not contrasted against the snow. Most of the birds aren't back yet, so the only sound outside my window is the ever-present hum of traffic.

It's impossible to ignore the movement and the sounds of humanity, but at the same time the world has never felt so stagnant.

I think there are all sorts of comparisons you could draw here, some of which hold up better than others. The one that first comes to mind for me is sobriety- the line "Full recovery will take years, though. It’ll be depressing. And it’ll be boring. Don’t expect any further rewards or handclaps." from the "Waste Land Of Reality"o thought is one which really stuck with me on my first playthrough, and one which feels especially appropriate here. But that's just one angle.

How much of this was intentional? I don't know. Probably not most of it. Part of me just wanted to go on a little tangent about the seasonal purgatory I'm trapped in once again. But I genuinely don't think there could be a better time of year to set a game like Disco Elysium. That bleak dusty shoulder season, where all the ugliest and most honest parts of nature and civilization are on display. The time of year where I've gone through the ringer and come out the other side, but everything still looks and feels like shit. It's just a different kind of shit.

Spring isn't here. Not yet. And when it does come, it won't fix anything. There will still be garbage on the ground and pollution in the air, there will still be class inequality and senseless violence and I will still be mentally ill.

But still.

For the first time in months, I can feel the wind against my skin without it hurting.

Whatever that's worth.

[godspeedviper]

Christian Woman - Jonathan Crane x Preacher's Daughter Reader (+18)

𖤐 Synopsis: Jonathan Crane and the preacher’s daughter drive up to a lover’s lane in an old truck with the intention of indulging the Devil on this hot summer evening.

𖤐 Type: Established Relationship || Fluff and Smut

𖤐 Word Count: 826

𖤐 Rating: Mature || PiV || Underage drinking and smoking

𖤐 A/N: This is the second work in the preacher's daughter series! (Yes, I'm making it a series!) First work can be found here

Forgive her,

For she knows not what she does.

  One summer night – the moon was full yet the sun hadn’t fully set – the cicadas and grasshoppers and frogs all sang the song of the south, of lust, of heat. Tithonus’ hymn to Aphrodite. We drove out into the fields on her daddy’s old pickup truck, stopping at the edge of town where the terror of the Appalachians met the terrors of small town farmland, a symbolic sort of crossroads upon which to meet with the Devil and sin. 

  Sin! Sin! Sin! Oh! The Devil was ever-present in the south, you could feel his oppressive presence in the humidity, see his glowing red eyes nestled in the tall grass watching as you walked to and fro. God should forgive us for succumbing to his temptations, for the Devil was our neighbor, how could we not give in? 

A cross upon her bedroom wall

From grace, she will fall.

An image burning in her mind

And between her thighs.

  A crucified scarecrow bore witness to our consummation, watching solemnly from its post – I feel that way now, condemned to reminisce but not partake – but in the heat of the moment we paid it no mind. Through the veneer of love, everything is beautiful. Through the hunger of lust, everything can be devoured, and I was all mouth. A thick sheen of sweat coated her from head to toe, giving her skin a pearlescent glow that made me believe in divinity, even if only for a moment. Perhaps God was not to be found in the pages of the Bible or even in the pews of a church. Perhaps God was inside of her all along. 

Before him, beg to serve or please

On your back or knees

She looked at me as I undressed with a reverence I’ve not seen even amongst the most pious; I was her God and she was my salvation. 

“Fuck me,” she said. 

  Oh how sweet those foul lips taste! There is bliss in the profane. Perhaps this was the moment in which I became what I am today, where I first tasted the fruits of misbehavior. My inexperienced hands roamed her body like spiders, propelled by natural instinct alone, frantically running through every curve and crevasse. At long last my hands found purchase in her hair, holding the strands like reigns as I chased my orgasm at full gallop, thrusting into her with reckless abandon. I watched her eyes roll into the back of her head like a woman possessed and felt her body press into mine as her spine arched up off the bed of the truck. Her legs then wrapped around my hips, ensnaring me like game; she always was a good hunter. 

She’d like to know God

Love God

Feel, feel, feel her God

Inside of her

Deep inside of her.

“You’re going to Hell, Jonathan Crane.” She said with a giggle as I lit her cigarette, a tried and true cliche. “Fuckin’ the preacher’s daughter and providin’ her with smokes n’ drink. What a bad boy you are!” 

“If I’m goin’ to Hell it will be on your heels, my dear Eurydice.” I leaned in close to her and lit my own cigarette with the burning end of hers, gently cupping her face in one hand. 

“You ain’t no Orpheus,” she scoffed. “You’re too smart, and shit at the guitar let alone a lyre.” 

“And you ain’t no paragon of justice either.” I teased.

I got up off the bed of the truck and went around to the passenger side, folding the seat forward to pull out the small red cooler sitting on the back seat. I cranked the volume up on the dashboard, the music blaring out of the old speakers, and I jumped back onto the bed of the truck, one hand outstretched to offer her a drink. 

“O dreaded Persephone! Will you have me as your Hades?” 

“Hell yeah.” She replied, bumping her drink to mine. “Cheers!” 

In a town so steeped in religion, blasphemy felt like freedom. We had carved out this little pocket of existence for ourselves, outside of town, outside of our daily troubles. I stood up, outstretched my arms like a cross, and began to sing along to the music blaring from inside the vehicle. 

Jesus Christ looks like me

Jesus Christ, yeah

Jesus Christ looks like me

Jesus Christ, ah

Her laugh echoes through my mind, haunting my memories though her name has long since turned to ash in my mouth. That was the one and only time I felt any semblance of true confidence in myself, and the only time I was ever truly loved. This was the point of inception for The Scarecrow. The God of Fear born out of the only moment of confidence in my life. And so, I look into the rusty old mirror, and slip on the burlap mask.

"Jesus Christ looks like me." 

Ao3 || Ko-Fi || Submit

[transient-winds]

The conclusion of the Noroshi arc has finally arrived! Way to go Bofurin and allies 🥹🙌!!

Spoilers for Wind Breaker Chapters 157 and Chapter 158 ahead! (with additional doodles as an apology for not posting last time, exams was kicking my ass i fear)

Crazy how this whole arc happened in around or in less than 12 hours and I was so ready for it to end on 157 but I should’ve know Takiishi was too stubborn to be knocked out so easily.

GAHHH I have so much to say about the symbolisms in these two chapters.

So first of all, the “Umemiya’s will to change Furin is akin to forging metal” analogy from Endo (Chapter 153) comes back in 157, but now it’s being used in the context of Takiishi. The metal (Takiishi) is finally hot enough to be malleable for potential change and its evident with his new found interest in the rain. Throughout most of Takiishi’s life, he has remained static. He gets what he wants, when he wants and how he wants it. If he doesn’t like it, he gets rid of it. There had been little else that has ever made a significant impact or changes in his life, then he meets Endo and Umemiya—

—both becoming the faces of his perception on the types of people that exist in his life. Then, Umemiya takes it a step further and becomes the catalyst to a (much needed) change in perspective for Takiishi. In my opinion, Takiishi liking the rain can be symbolic of two things:

(1) the rain or more specifically water in Buddhism symbolizes purity, clarity and calmness. Think back to how hellish and messy Takiishi’s mindscape was like in Chapter 153, it had been full of all his interests (notice the fireworks in the bkgd? he said he likes fireworks in 158) and how he perceives things from the outside world. Takiishi starting to like rain means he’s introducing rain to his mindscape, and I can only assume it helps clean up that horder’s wet dream of a place. That is to say, he’s allowing himself to be cleaned from the impurities and bring serenity into his life.

and (2) it represents Takiishi reaching Nirvana (or something similar to it). Now, to most people this probably came out my ass but hear me out: nirvana literally means “to blow out (a light/fire)” or in other words “to extinguish” and as a concept in Buddhism, its a state in which one extinguishes the three posions (i.e. greed, hatred and ignorance) from their life and reaches enlightenment. AND THE TITLE OF CHAPTER 158 IS ���The Great Fires of Extinction*”. *smacks my scrub-down board* DO YOU SEE THE CONNECTION RN? TELL ME IM NOT CRAZY FOR THINKING THIS. What I’m getting at is Umemiya was able to help in quelling the poisonous flames of Takiishi’s heart and guided him to self-betterment JUST LIKE THE DUTIES OF FUDO MYO-O AND EXACTLY LIKE HOW BUDDHA CONVERTED THE EIGHT LEGIONS TO BUDDHISM. (Sorry for the capslock im just *gestures wildly* excited)

*note: my delulu brain made the connection between extinction and extinguish because they both refer to the removal of something. (update: etymologically, they both orginated from the same latin word extinguere / lit. destroy or put out)

By the end of this arc, Takiishi has changed significantly and, as much as I hate to say this, but I agree with Endo on this being a beautiful fight. It had been a long time coming for both parties but it had been a necessary conversation to kickstart a new beginning for Takiishi like a rebirth of sorts (+ it allowed Endo and Sakura to gain perspective on people, their complexities and for the latter the responsibilities of being top dog). Wish it didn’t have to end in the rooftop and the town becoming a mess, but oh well, we can’t have everything.

I love love LOVE how Nii-sensei writes Umemiya. His role as a guide and protector to both his people and his enemies is so fucking beautiful and poetic, my words won’t do it justice. In my heart, I see it as him stepping up to be the big brother figure he was always meant to be—had the accident not happened, he would’ve been the best one in the world.

“There’s nothing more fascinating than people.” AGREED KING, SPEAK YOUR TRUTH. I

NOW FOR MY SILLY YAPPING!

UmeEndo conversation really shines in 158 and I’m living for it. I get you UmeEndo shippers, I get you. Endo’s so fucking weirded out by Ume’s optimism and genuineness, I genuinely love how uncomfortable he gets. I’m framing the faces he made in this chapter. Oh how the turns have tabled, you absolute goof.

I already said this once to a friend but I’ll only say it one more time, but I’m genuinely happy for Endo. He has stuck onto Takiishi like a leech without any expectation for the latter’s reciprocation and it was kind of pitiful watching him dance around Takiishi like an annoying chihuahua. Now that Takiishi has officially and verbally acknowledged him, it was heart warming…I guess. I'll let him ride this high with a follow up sketch I'll share here later.

–

Despite no sunrise panel, I think it was appropriate for this arc to end in a downpour. It’s fitting like a forest fire dying down from the rain to replenish the earth and grow anew with all the nutrients from the ash remains of the forest (shoutout to Ales for her EndoChikaUme being Fuel, Fire and Ash post, im kissing your brain rn). Overall, very happy with the conclusion of the Noroshi arc and I’m happily dancing to Happy Xmas (War is Over) by the Plastic Ono. All the love to Nii-sensei and everyone in the official English translation staff for literally the best arc so far in the manga. And thanks for reading ‘til the end of this post. ^^

[kindestegg]

The plush under Collector's bed: A totally necessary analysis, trust me

So, as a recap of this scene, before King leaves to visit Eda and Lilith, Collector asks King if he could sleep with François that night.

King reminds Collector that only himself and Luz can hold François, and Collector obliges but asks that he at least leave François there to "watch over him", claiming he "doesn't like being alone".

King does so, and Collector seems satisfied. It's very telling of Collector's development that they never touch François after this interaction, showing respect for King's boundaries.

... Except! This sweet little angel is actually a master trickster! A liar and a fiend!

He had a plush under his bed the whole time!!! In fact I'm pretty sure every shot of their little bedroom planet has the underside of Collector's bed obscured UNTIL King starts to leave and we pan to see the beds from an angle which reveals the plush!

You know what this means, right? Collector could have easily pulled his plush from under his bed and cuddled up with that if he hated sleeping alone so much, but he didn't. Why?

Well, I don't think he was lying about being lonely. Loneliness seems to be a prominent common theme for Collector, both declaring his loneliness back at the start of O' Titan, during a vulnerable moment where he didn't expect anyone to hear him, so he'd have no reason to lie there...

And then also having this acknowledged by King in the current episode, who has been living with him for about two months now, so he would know Collector's state of mind better than most here.

So... what gives? Was Collector really only out to force King to give François to him? Why?

Well, my current theory about this is what François means in this scenario: a connection to King. We know François is very important to King and King does not hide this when he expresses to Collector how he won't let them hold him.

To Collector, being able to sleep with François is the ultimate foolproof way to ensure King won't leave them. First, if King eventually lets them hold him, it signifies King would trust them enough with this and hold them to a regard as high as Luz, which we know Collector seems to be jealous of. I... just realized I should probably analyze that too, huh. Well, all in its due time.

And second, even if King won't allow them to hold François, but leaves them close to Collector in their room, that already acts as a guarantee. A guarantee that King will come back for François eventually, that King won't leave them to sleep alone the entire night.

Whatever the case, François is a symbol, a meter to test their closeness for Collector and King, and considering how many times Collector has lost people they considered friends before (whether those were real friends - in the case of the titan babies - or not - in the other collectors and Belos' case -) and have been double crossed by Belos, it's no wonder they have trust issues and want to make sure King does care about keeping them company.

So... that's it, then? He probably threw his original plush under the bed and then lied to King he lost it and is now constantly trying to get King to let him either hold François or at least keep him close to him as a connection between him and King?

Well... yeah, but if you'd allow me, I'd also like to talk a little on the symbology of the plush here. You see, while we can't make out the full of what the plush looks like, it appears to be some sort of canine with pointed ears and a poofy tail. Maybe it could be a titan, even a plush replica of King, but... I don't think so. There seems to be no stitching around the neck to signify it has a skull like titans do.

See, I think this is a fox plush. And why it is important in a metatextual sense that it is a fox requires a look into lots of different possibilities, each enriching the narrative in a different way.

For one, in popular folklore, foxes are seen as tricksters, lying and cheating their way into what's most convenient for them. Villain or hero, the fox is always winning people over through tricks.

This would align with the very nature of the plush being thrown under Collector's bed: it calls back to the fact he's tricking King with this. And yes, while Collector does have his problem with "fibbers", I don't think he's above more harmless tricks, we've seen him joke around with King before, purposefully feigning ignorance to mess with him, and the very nature of how he splattered Belos was through him lying that he wasn't mad. He may dislike it when a major lie is told, but little lies and sarcasm are no stranger to him.

Another possible connotation is the fact that rabbits and foxes are naturally prey and predator. François is a rabbit, Collector's plush is a fox. King, the member of the species that was hunted by the collectors, holds the prey animal, while Collector holds the predator animal...

The position of the plushes is also important here if we go with this interpretation: François is on top of King's bed, indicating he does not conceal he is the prey here and is well aware of this. He says so as much: "this whole time I was scared of making him mad". In general he behaves like a scared animal around Collector, despite their efforts to put them in equal grounds and the fact they have spent so long together and made considerable progress in their friendship.

Collector's fox on the other hand is under their bed, signifying Collector has concealed their fox, or maybe more appropriately, buried and left the fox behind. They may be part of the species that wiped out all the titans, the predators that so mercilessly hunted King's species as prey, but they want no part in this. Their backstory seems to involve wanting to play with titans and denouncing the other collectors after all, likely being bitter at them for ruining everything and hunting their new playmates to near extinction.

Alternative readings also include a few possible pop culture references. A possible one is the prominent role of the Fox in the Little Prince. While Hunter is the one who has been nicknamed "little prince" by Darius, Collector still seems more thematically similar to the character, being a child who came from space:

The similarity also hands itself to the fact King does somewhat resemble a fox with his canine qualities and fluffy tail, and in the story, the Fox was one of the first friends the Little Prince makes on Earth, and the one to teach him how to approach someone who does not trust you yet, to "tame" them.

Yet another possible reference this could be is the Disney movie "The Fox and the Hound":

Which seems like something I should frankly make a whole separate post comparing the eerie similarities it harbors to the current dynamic Collector and King hold. But to summarize, if you don't know the movie, it follows a hunting dog pup and a fox pup that become friends at a young age, and their friendship must overcome advertisities unique to their species.

If this is a reference to this particular movie, this once again has a different reading: Collector is clearly the hunting dog here, not the fox. For him to keep a fox under his bed would signify he wants to keep King close to him, safe under his bed and protected. This could even be a call back to the very last scene the titular fox and hound in the movie share: Copper, the hound, positions himself above the fallen Todd, the fox, protecting him. The plush being under the bed to mirror this would make sense.

Whew! I think that's everything that I had in mind to comment on this particular tiny easter egg. Whatever meaning you take from this about Collector's mysterious plush, I hope I could at least inspire something in you!

[01zfan]

consuming the light | o. st

pastors son!shotaro x rich!reader | 8.9k words

went a little overboard with the world building im sorry but i loved this story too much

contains: arranged marriage (not between shotaro and the reader), implied virginity loss, bible study under the guise of fooling around, readers parents are awful, shotaro is the best, ANGSTY, sad ending, oral (fem. receiving), missionary, emotional

sacrilegious masterlist

god was always kind to you. some people called it luck but you knew there was a bigger force behind all the good in your life. you were blessed to say the least. so many people would kill for the life you were born into.

as you walked down the aisle, your thin white veil filtered the colored light coming through the stained glass of the church. it was a veil imported from a place in italy you couldn’t pronounce, and it had beautiful white embroidery that told the story of both you and the man you were going to marry. the symbolism was etched not only into the veil, but also your beautiful dress. the explanation of the stitching had went in one ear and out the other. 

you looked down the aisle to your soon to be husband. with each slow step and each swelling note of the organ you felt like you were walking towards your doom. the light from the stained glass window was artificial, giving the illusion that the rest of your life wouldn’t be drained of color and sunlight.

the sun shined down on you in the form of the pastor’s son. you remember the first day you met him, during a sunday dinner hosted at the church. he helped serve the little kids and you were volunteered to help by your parents. they figured that shotaro could teach you to be kind, something they said you lacked. you weren’t sure if it was true or not, but you were at the age that you believed whatever your parents said. 

the only time you were excited to learn about god was when shotaro became your bible study partner. your parents wanted it more than you did, but you quickly became accustomed to looking at shotaro as he went over bible verses. you barely looked at the passages, eyes trained on his side profile and the way his skin gleamed underneath your kitchen lights. he would look at you as you mouthed latin hymns wrong and blush, knowing that you weren’t paying attention.

you ended up spending more and more time with shotaro outside of the church. he would come over to your house often, gawking at your high ceilings and the maids you had. you learned pretty young that your house was different than everyone else’s. your lifestyle was different, surrounded by custom furniture and large rooms. you would never tell shotaro that you enjoyed going to his house more. his house had food prepared by his parents and his place was cozy and warm. but when shotaro came to your house the cold tile suddenly felt warm underneath your feet, and all you wanted to see was his face when you looked up from your plate at dinner. he took time to learn the names of the people that kept your house up and running, thanking them sincerely when they would bring you fresh cut fruit during your bible study lessons.

your first kiss was with shotaro underneath the big tree in his backyard. you sat on the swing that hung off a large branch and laughed as he pushed you, saying you might end up wrapping around the branch if he kept going. your swings came to a stop and shotaro came to stand in front of you. he looked at you with eyes that reflected the light coming through the trees. you were shy when you said you liked him and the kiss was awkward, lips barely touching before you both pulled away. you both turned away from the other, faces hot and eyes darting everywhere else. shotaro’s hand was hot when he grabbed yours as he walked you home, and he gave you a gentle peck on your cheek when he dropped you off at your door.

from that moment on for more than three years you and shotaro had a relationship of sorts. he would walk you home and hold your hand and look after you. you ended up becoming a regular at church and shotaro started sitting next to you in the pews. no one suspected a thing was going on between you two, sometimes it felt so unreal that you didn’t know what was going on either. you both avoided the topic of defining what you guys had. something about it felt so unholy, like you were straying from the path your god—your parents had carved out for you. you couldn’t resist straying from the path when you first put your tongue in shotaro’s mouth, or when he pulled you to straddle his lap. it was all new for the both of you, learning about passion and fire that burned outside of hell. it was liberating to experience a new emotion and trying to understand it. when you told shotaro how to touch you it was like you finally had control of something in your life.

shotaro had a good head on his shoulders, one that entertained your requests and listened to you. you credited his obedience to the church, thinking about all the sunday school nuns that shaped him into the man you snuck around to see. you knew it was partially credited to his parents. they were different from yours, they had an honest living. you had heard stories of both your fathers growing up together and getting along before they chose different paths in life. your father chose riches over anything, and shotaro’s father chose the path of righteousness. their close relationship in childhood evolved to be something cordial and somewhat awkward, something both you and shotaro bared witness to. you imagine it drove your father crazy seeing someone so honest be just as respected if not more in your town. shotaro’s parents were a important part in the community, maybe even more important than your father. so your parents had built up a fake rapport with shotaro’s parents, one that you’re sure they saw right through. god-fearing people you found out were insanely perceptive. shotaro’s parents didn’t outwardly call out the fraudulence until your parents offered a large donation to the church in exchange for the churches endorsement. 

you still remember the last time you ever saw shotaro. his parents stormed through your house, looking for whichever large room you two resided in. he sat in the nook of your window while you sat beside him, with his face in your hands. his hair blew gently from the spring breeze while you brushed a strand behind his ear. that’s what had become of your bible study, the two of you sneaking away to kiss and look at eachother. 

shotaro sprung up from his spot in the window and you whipped your body around to face the door. it was quiet for a moment, everyone in the room slowly understanding the scene laid out before them. both of your parents stared at the two of you, intruding on an intimate moment. you realized you were caught when your father raised his voice and your mother began screeching. shotaro’s parents were calmer, for some reason that scared you even more.

“we are leaving now, son.” his father said sternly.

shotaro didn’t look at you as he kept his head down, walking towards the door. you were frozen in place, fingernails digging into your knees as you watched shotaro walk away.

you only got one last glance at shotaro as his parents led him out of your room. his father gave one more look to your dad, the scariest look you have ever seen.

shotaro didn’t even make it down the stairs before he heard your parents yelling at you. something about betrayal and risking your lifestyle to sneak around with someone so poor. shotaro and his parents were all shocked. he didn’t get yelled at by his parents, he was sure all the anger they felt for him dissolved into pity. 

you never got the chance to spend much time with him after that day. he became a distant figure in your life. you only caught glimpses of shotaro in the church, running around stretching his hands far to help anyone. you never got the chance to be alone with him ever again, so you were forced to watch him grow up through the church.

you watched shotaro grow into the leader of the youth group, then continue to grow to someone who led sunday service. you watched him get sent off to a private catholic school a couple of towns over. usually it only happened with rich families, but shotaro was a special case. he had wowed the school board and was rewarded a scholarship that allowed him to go. 

as ridiculous as it was, you debated on asking your parents to send you to that school. they were the ones that proposed you go to the expensive school at first, they could’ve afforded it with ease. they insisted you go to make them proud. after the situation with shotaro transpired, making them proud only made you want to deny it more. after spending so much time telling your parents you weren’t going to go to the private school it was too late to go back on your word. so you settled for staying in town. you would just have to wait until school ended so you could see shotaro again. you waited for summer eagerly like all of your peers did, but you had your different reasons. in the back of your head you saw the distant figure of shotaro, coming closer and closer to you as each season passed.

summer was like a movie every year, memories glossy and organic like it was shot on a film camera. the film was different each year—as a child it was bright and saturated, the blue sky popped and the grass shined brightly. the older you got the more muted summers became. you credited it to becoming mature, finally turning into the adult you wanted to be so badly. you made it your plan to become that bad kid your parents called you all those years ago. it wasn’t long before you heard the final bell of school toll. your graduating class ran out in their puritan christian schoolgirl uniforms. the shrill sound of cheers filled the parking lot as everyone took off the cross pendants that adorned all your necks. it was a tradition that started long before you, symbolizing your changing relationship with god. other girls in your class would become closer to him, but you had your plans to abandon him completely.

summers were very important in your town. everyone came home during the summer for the annual congregation at the ocean. it was something like an unofficial holy site, something made up by the elders before the current elders of your congregation. everyone participated in the event, washing away their sins and stress in the holy water of the ocean. it wasn’t an obligation to participate, but everyone had to be there. you saw shotaro there every year, helping take care of the kids and sometimes leading the oceanside service. 

you saw him on the sand, running around with a kid hanging onto his shoulders. you couldn’t help but look and wave at him and he waved back. you wanted him to come to you more than anything. you wanted to tell shotaro that you were an adult now, your parents couldn’t dictate who you spent your time with. even meeting in secret would suffice, but you just had to see him up close again, to have him talk to you. with his parents busy and your parents never coming to the ceremony you could finally get have a word with him. you beckoned to shotaro as you laid underneath your umbrella in the shade. this was the newfound confidence that came with washing away your sins—you were suddenly ready to sin some more. you wanted to whisk shotaro away to the car you had driven here or take him to your empty house. maybe even a secluded part of the oceanfront if he let you.

shotaro came to you after looking bewildered only for a moment. he sat with you underneath the shade of the umbrella, eyes fixed on the changing tides. 

you two both sat in silence, seeing children on the beach run around and adults chatting. it was comforting, being able to be so close to shotaro with so many people around. you put a sandy hand on his knee and shotaro turned his head away from the water to look at you.

”i missed you.” shotaro said.

the way your parents raised you was extremely different from shotaro’s upbringing. it was evident in how you two interacted with eachother. when shotaro had no problem telling you he missed you, you felt sick sometimes even reaching out an affectionate hand to him. the first part of your relationship was like a one sided game of chicken, shotaro had to work hard to whittle down your cold front. but you were older now, a different person who didn’t struggle with that stuff anymore. so you nodded your head and played with the sand some more, trying to distract yourself.

“i missed you, too.” you said.

letting down your walls was worth it when you got to see shotaro smile because of the sweet things you say to him. his hair blew in the light breeze the same way it did that night your parents caught you two. you cast your look down and so does shotaro. his eyes watch your hand as it plays with the sand.

“how are your parents?” shotaro asked.

just as quick as the walls went down, you could feel them go back up. you scoffed and retracted your hand from his knee. shotaro already missed feeling the fine grains of sand that stuck to your palm press against his knee. he turned his head to follow you as he watched you lean back and prop yourself up on a singular fist. with your free hand you moved your shades to rest on your head.

“after all this time the first thing you ask about are my parents.” you said. 

shotaro knew you wanted your words to pack a punch, but you looked distracted as you continued to play with the sand. shotaro could never bring up your parents yelling at you that day, but when he saw you he couldn’t stop himself from thinking about your pained expression when he left your room that final time. shotaro brought a hand to rest on your calf. he squeezed it gently to let you know he was sorry. shotaro felt blessed when he saw you smile. he watches you tilt your head and purse your lips, like you’re trying to think of something.

“wanna get out of here?” you asked.

your hand that was playing in the sand went back to shotaro. you were confusing to him, so shy when it came to affection but still so bold with your words and suggestions. he had trouble believing you were the same girl only a moment ago that could barely say that you missed him. now he was following you towards the parking lot as you headed towards his car.

you led him away from the oceanfront to the parking lot. you bobbed and weaved through cars, going to the familiar dingy shit box shotaro drove. it was almost like you two were robots, neither of you saying a word while shotaro used a slightly shaking hand to unlock his door. shotaro raced to open the passenger door for you, but your hand went to the backdoor instead. you opened it slowly and crawled in, doing your best to give shotaro a view of what he hasn’t seen in months. when you were fully situated in the seat you beckoned to shotaro again. he looked around the parking lot, scanning for anyone watching. once he saw the coast was clear, he went into the backseat too.

you didn’t even let the door close before your lips were on shotaro’s. you wasted no time bringing him in close, swinging your leg over his. shotaro welcomed it, hand going to your hip and your leg. your hands on his shoulder gripped his shirt. he didn’t 

it wasn’t hard to channel all your frustrations and pent up emotions into shotaro. you kissed him with a fierceness, pressing your lips to his quickly. you saw shotaro’s eyes become hooded when you started sucking on his bottom lip.

it took shotaro a moment to get into it. the fear of being caught melted off his shoulders when you brought his hand to rest on your chest. he squeezed the flesh he hadn’t been able to touch in so long, knowing exactly what you needed. when you brought your hand to his clothed dick, he had to pull away.

“we shoudn’t.” shotaro said against your lips.

“i waited a whole year. i can’t wait anymore.” you said. 

shotaro wanted to give in to you so bad. he wanted to make you feel good in the back of his beat up car. but he thought about how you deserved something special in a place that was more private. so shotaro resisted the temptation and took both your hands and put them back at your sides.

shotaro was lucky he practiced restraint, because as he pulled away from you he saw your parents leave their parked car heading for the beach. he pulled away from your lips, visibly distracted.

“what’s wrong?” you asked.

“your parents are heading towards the ocean.” shotaro said.

you crawled over him to see for yourself. sure enough your parents were walking towards the water, weaving through the cars the same way you were. you clambered over shotaro the rest of the way, ignoring his grunts as you opened the door. you were much more rushed, running through the cars trying to find a way back to your spot before your parents got there. shotaro followed behind you, going back to what he was doing before he sat by you.

you had to act as nonchalant as possible when your saw your parents see you. you kept your eyes on shotaro, letting him distract you from your impeding doom coming a step closer. shotaro gave you one last smile before your parents came and stood directly in your line of sight. they blocked your view of your sun. they stood before you like a wall separating you from shotaro. you tried to peer around their bodies but it was no use. your mother waved her hands in front of you to get your attention. you put your sunglasses on top of your head to look at them fully. they wore their usual business attire, they came from whatever meeting to come straight here. it was painfully obvious your parents weren’t going to stay there for long.

“hello honey.” your mom said to you. “congratulations on finishing the school year.”

you stayed seated underneath the umbrella. it was so annoying trying to keep up appearances. your parents were highly regarded in the town, being the second richest family and the only ones with strong political ties. you don’t know if it was because of the money or the status that made your parents so distant. you lived with them your whole lives but knew nothing about them. you were closer with the various nannies you had in your life, ones that would mysteriously quit when you referred to them as mom. 

your relationship with your parents was strained to say the least. after they degraded you and shotaro for hours on end that day the chasm between the three of you only deepened. your relationship had devolved from a mutual respect to a silent agreement that you would behave and be the dutiful daughter you had to be as long as they funded your lifestyle. this included beautiful sunglasses, gorgeous gowns, and extravagant parties. beyond the cash they threw at you they were barely parents, never knowing anything about your life. but them congratulating you on graduating was the first thing they have said to you in weeks, so you pursed your lips and nodded curtly.

“thank you.” you said.

you saw shotaro’s parents walk by and you couldn’t stop yourself from looking at them. your relationship with the couple had become strained too. you wished more than anything to feel the warmth of their home again, to be able to say a word to their son again. your parents noticed your attention had shifted, so your dad cleared his throat loudly.

“let’s go home. we have some very exciting news to share with you.” your dad said.

so you went on an awkward and silent car ride home with your parents. they never picked you up, much less drove you places. the pit in your stomach started growing and you could practically feel an ominous dark cloud appearing over your head. your parents said nothing for the rest of the car ride, letting your mind wander to the worst scenarios.

you weren’t sure what was happening when you opened your door to see a man and his parents sitting on the sofa in your living room, chatting about something. the man got up almost immediately and you were taken aback by the person standing in front of you. he wore the nicest clothes you’ve ever seen and had his hair primmed and proper. you felt extremely underdressed compared to him. you were still modest in your beach outfit, but the man in front of you was wearing clothes of a professional.

you were stunned into silence seeing the man stand before you, and even more stunned at how everyone in your living room was staring at you expectantly. you realized that you were the left out of the loop, completely in the dark about the situation at hand. you look to your parents for the answers.

“what’s going on?” you asked them.

“have a seat honey.” your dad said.

your parents looked at you expectantly and you sat down. although you were defiant, you were still a dutiful daughter, one that listened. that’s why you sat down and listened to your parents while they told you why the family was in your home.

you couldn’t believe what you were hearing as your parents told you about your future marriage. the man in front of you was the son of the richest family in town. you could tell by the way your dad’s eyes shined when talking about the family that they were richer than you could comprehend. ties with the money stronger than anything else. you visibly stiffened hearing it, before you could object your dad held up a finger to silence you. you blinked away tears as both your parents and the man’s attorney told you the conditions of the marriage. apparently everything had already been planned out and decided while you didn’t know a single thing. you weren’t able to get a word in until they were done. you looked around the room, everyone smiling as if it was the best plan in the world.

“what if i say no?” you said quietly.

“we cut you off.” your father said simply. 

you looked down at your hands, clasped together in your lap. you would’ve never thought you’d be married off to someone you barely knew. your mother had been lucky in that aspect; she got to marry your father who was a family friend. but you had never seen the man that sat next to you on the couch in your entire life. your family was rich to the point this didn’t need to happen. you looked to your mom and dad, the looks on their face told you trying to persuade them out of this was no use. at the feeling of the man’s hand on your shoulder it lit a fire in your belly, a defiant one that had you shrugging his arm off of you.

you stood up from the couch and you locked eyes with your father. your mom instantly resorted to protecting her integrity, looking at the man’s family with her smiling face and customer service voice.

“we will see you guys at the party tonight. thank you for stopping by.”

your mother shuffled the man and his family out while you stayed there staring down your father. he didn’t relent or say a single thing until the door closed.

“i refuse.” you seethed.

“you don’t have a choice.” you father said. 

you wanted to yell at him, but you knew it was no use. your mind flashed to shotaro and the way his hair would blow in the nook of your room when the window was open.

“we already have the money. we don’t need to marry into more of it.” you pleaded.

for the first time in your life, you made your father laugh. to the point where he nearly had tears coming from his eyes. he laughed the whole day, only laughing more after seeing anger take over your features. he laughed as your anger turned into defeat. his laughs rang in your ears for the days to come, turning you into the shell of the person you once were. you had lost all defiance in your body, finally becoming the compliant daughter he always wanted.

when the party came, you had no energy left in you to say snarky remarks or roll your eyes. you had become unassertive, nodding your head and saying a meek yes whenever asked a question. you could only look ahead, focusing on random paintings hung to the walls as you heard your father pretend to get choked up talking about how he will be walking his daughter down the aisle. 

you imagined seeing shotaro across the room, having him come up to you and whisk you away to a secret place for just the two of you. when you danced in the ballroom you imagined shotaro expertly blending with the crowd, dancing with you and telling you the plan to escape. he’d squeeze your hand extra tight before heading towards the exit. you wondered if he had heard the news yet, how he felt about it. when you thought too much about him your eyes started to water and the lump in your throat got bigger. you needed a place to cry, what better place than the nook in your room where you last felt love. you were able to finally sneak away after severable feeble attempts, exiting through a door in the kitchen.

shotaro was able to sneak into the party after being let in by staff that liked him. he wandered around the party, scared to be caught by your parents, knowing it would lead to him getting kicked out. once shotaro realized that your parents were too invested in talking to the esteemed guests of the party not sparing him a second look, he walked freely around the party. he realized quickly that this wasn’t a celebration thrown for you, but just another opportunity for your parents to make money.

shotaro felt himself fall apart when he opened the door to your room. he heard you first, the quiet sniffling drowning out the sound of your door opening.

you got up from the nook in your bedroom window to turn towards your door, getting ready to yell at whoever came in. you melted seeing shotaro, the tears you were holding back flowing freely. it was like no time had passed between the two of you, a whole school year of no contact dissolving into the air as you held out your arms to him. 

shotaro sat beside you and held you as you cried into his lap. he was patting your back and rubbing your head, comforting you anyway he could. shotaro kept telling you it’s okay a million times over like it might fix the current situation. he realized he had no idea what to say to you, only that he felt tears threatening his own eyes as he thought more and more about you. when you finally pulled away, makeup you had cried off stained his black pants.

“i’m sorry.” you hiccuped.

shotaro shook his head immediately.

“i should be the one that’s sorry,” shotaro said. ”i should’ve never left”

you sniffle to sit back up and look at him. 

“i figured if i got a good education your parents would view me favorably.” shotaro said. 

shotaro used the corner of his sleeve to blot away some of your ruined makeup. it was no use as your eyes swelled again, tears running down your cheeks. shotaro saw a cold resolve settle across your face. you looked up to shotaro, forcing his eyes to hold contact with your bloodshot ones.

“my whole life my parents have acted like god, and you left me just so you could try to please them?” you said quietly.

shotaro wished you sounded angry when you asked the question. he actively watched the fire burn out from behind your eyes, replaced with the same cold look shotaro saw on your fathers features. your perfect posture had devolved into you slumping against him. he couldn’t stop his hands from levitating to your face, trying to warm you up with his clammy hands. 

the feeling of shotaro’s hands were lost on you, eyes steely as you looked ahead. you quickly found out it didn’t matter, nothing did. even if you blew up and cursed at shotaro for wanting to please your parents instead of pleasing you it wouldn’t change your fate. if you kicked shotaro out and cried in your bed alone you would still be walking down the aisle tomorrow to a man you didn’t even know. atleast with your head pressed to shotaro’s chest you could hear his heart pound in his chest a thousand miles a minute and feel his hands wrapped around your body. the possibility of never feeling this close to anyone ever again hit you like a javelin in your stomach. it made you want to double over in pain, it felt like you were losing your breath as you held shotaro’s hand tightly.

“what am i supposed to do?” you asked.

shotaro didn’t have the answers for you as you looked up at him. in your eyes he could see new tears welling and taking the same path down your cheeks.  your eyelashes clumped together from the tears and you were starting to be reduced to sniffles. 

you could see shotaro’s eyes go blank and you realized he didn’t have an answer for you. your blurry eyes travelled to every part of his body, trying to find the answer there. you look at his black hair, the way it falls right above his eyes. every time he blinks his strands move, his hair is practically dancing as he tries to blink away tears. your eyes go to shotaro’s hands, how they grips yours so tightly that you don’t want to let go. you wonder if he will use those same hands to pray for your marriage and future that starts tomorrow. you like that you can still feel his heart beat, how it increased when you looked him in the eyes for too long.

“do you love me, shotaro?” you ask.

shotaro is happy that he knows the answer to this question—he has for a long time. he brushes a piece of hair behind your ear before going back to blot the tear tracks on your cheeks. he nods gently looking into your eyes.

“i love you more than you’ll ever know.” shotaro says quietly. 

its a quiet declaration of love as he wipes your tears away. your hand on his bicep tightens. the somber look in your eyes is replaced with a desperate one as you bring yourself from his chest to look shotaro in the eyes. 

“can you show me. please.”

shotaro could actively feel his reserves melting away the longer he looked at you. he recognized that look on your face from the countless times you two snuck away to fool around. you guys never did something when there was more than your housekeepers around. festivities from the party travelled upstairs and bled through the door. all it took was one single person to walk in and see you two. but you increased your grip on shotaro’s bicep as you readjusted yourself on the ledge. shotaro gave one last glance to your door. he remembered that he locked it after he came in. he put his other hand to rest behind you as he leaned in close. his eyes alternated between your lips and your eyes, looking for any doubt or hesitancy.

“are you sure?” shotaro asked.

he felt your hand go down to his wrist as you spread your legs. your beautiful dress rode up past your thigh as you led shotaro’s hand to your heat. his eyes grew wide but you kept your voice steady.

“this is the one time in my life i get to make the decision,” you pressed shotaro’s palm flat to your panties, letting him feel the heat. “i’ve been sure about this for a very long time.”

that was all shotaro needed. he used his other hand that was rested behind you to tilt your head, exposing your neck to him. shotaro lets his lips graze the skin of your neck, loving the way you shiver beside him. he presses his hand further into you, and you let out a sigh as you lean into him.

“i’ll let you make all the decisions tonight.” shotaro whispers into your neck.

it is sexual but it’s comforting to see how easy it is for shotaro to understand what you need. he gives you the reigns and the ability to be god on your last night of freedom. you nod your head immediately while pushing your hips to meet shotaro’s hand. he uses the heel of his palm to press against your clothed clit and his finger pushes into you. your hand, searching for something to hold, goes to your window blinds.

shotaro brings your face down to his to bring you into a kiss. the moonlight shines on you both through the window as he uses his free hand to guide the back of your neck deeper into him. shotaro lets his tongue graze your teeth before you open your mouth wider. his tongue presses against your cheek before finding your tongue, loving the feeling your your wet muscles touching. it is messy, so messy that a string of spit connects your mouths when shotaro pulls away.

“where do you want me?” shotaro asks.

it takes you awhile to find your voice again. you feel almost nervous being in charge, but shotaro rotating his hand to palm you makes your anxiety fall off your shoulders.

“on the bed.” you say.

shotaro stands up first, reluctantly pulling his hand away from your core to help you stand up from the nook. you already feel weak in the knees as shotaro leads you to your bed, a gentle hand on your back as you guys make your way across your marble floor. it’s almost like a dance, you two move in beat to the music that plays downstairs.

shotaro pulls back the canopy surrounding your bed so you can go through. you sit in the middle of your alaskan king bed, almost swallowed by the plushies and blankets that surround you. shotaro lets the curtains close as he continues to stand next to your bed. you stare at the outline of his body illuminated by the yellow glow of lamps in your room.

“do you want me to take off my clothes?” shotaro asks. 

you dig your feet underneath a blanket as you think. shotaro stands outside patiently, waiting for your order.

“just your pants and shirt,” you see shotaro reach for the waistband of his pants. “leave your underwear on.” you blurt out.

shotaro pauses only for a moment while he takes in his request. you can hear him laugh and see the shadow of him undressing himself. you take off your underwear and attempt to take off your dress but the zipper is out of your reach. 

you don’t let shotaro see you struggle to reach the zipper when he pulls back the drapes of your canopy. he looks at you and you move over slightly, as if there’s not enough room on the bed for the both of you. shotaro settles in next to you and goes back to the same position you were at sitting on the nook. you let your hands run over his upperbody, eyes looking at the bulge in his boxers. shotaro lets out a small sound of surprise when his hand presses to your bare pussy.

“so wet.” shotaro murmurs to himself.

you nod your head and lift your hips slightly while shotaro presses his palm against your clit again. the on and off presses has you gasping and closing your legs around his hand. shotaro has to use the hand that was guiding you through the make out session to apply pressure on your leg in efforts to keep them apart.

“do you want me to do this to you all night?” shotaro says in between kisses on your neck.

you have lost half your mind at this point. you shake your head trying to gather what’s left of your thoughts. you remember the sensation of shotaro’s fingers pressing into you over your panties.

“put a finger in.” you say.

shotaro obliges immediately, your wet hole giving no resistance. it has both of you moaning, the sensation new to the both of you.

“another.” you moan quietly.

when shotaro puts his second finger completely in, he does a scissoring motion inside of you. it is foreign but builds up a heat in your stomach and you can hear the tiny squelching of shotaro’s fingers interacting with your slick. you instinctively close your eyesdig your fingernails into his shoulder.

“feels good?” shotaro asks.

he kisses your eyelid and you nod your head yes. your hips feel like they’re lifting on their own accord, trying to feel more of shotaro’s fingers.

because your eyes are closed you don’t see shotaro more his body to slot between your two legs. when you no longer feel his warmth next to you, your eyes open. you see shotaro in a position you’ve never seen him in before, on his stomach as he lifts up your dress just enough to uncover your lower half. you let your upper body lower, until your propped up on your elbows. you keep an eye on shotaro and he keeps an eye on you, placing wet open mouthed kisses on your thighs. he was dangerously close to your center, a new wave of your slick coating his fingers. the speed of shotaro’s fingers was cruel and slow. you couldn’t stop your hips from bucking into his hand at a faster pace. each time you did so, shotaro’s palm grazed your clit.

“can i try something on you?” shotaro asked. he continued to place tender kisses on the hot skin of your thigh. “i heard people talking about it at my school and i could only think of you when i heard it.”

”okay.” you whined.

shotaro pulled one of his fingers out of you and you whine dagain at the loss. he used his free hand to push your thigh towards your stomach and placed an open mouthed kiss on your folds. your elbows suddenly slid out from underneath you, the new sensation making your back hit your bed with a soft thud. you focused on the canopy of your bed, the royal red and gold fabric that cascaded down your bed. it was one of the many signs of wealth in your life. you would give it up in a heartbeat to feel shotaro between your legs everyday.

shotaro looked up at you from between your legs, only getting a glimpse of your heaving chest. your boobs rested so nicely in your dress, and your pretty whimpers made him want to continue kissing your folds. shotaro was surprised seeing all of his peers at school so sinful, performing acts on each other that would send a pastor into cardiac arrest. but he understood why they did those things when he got his first taste of you. you were sweet and coated his tongue, he found himself needing more. 

you placed your legs over shotaro’s shoulders as his hand that was holding your thigh went to spread your pussy lips. he was licking whatever you body would give him earnestly, wrapping his lips around your clit before sucking. this had you pressing your head into the pillows and closing your thighs around his head. 

you got back on one of your elbows to wrap your hand in shotaro’s hair. you used the grip you had on his locks to push your further into your heat, mouth agape while you rode his tongue. you would’ve apologized sincerely in the moment for being so greedy, but you could make out shotaro’s smile in your dimly lit room. your hand pushed him further into your heat, his finger and tongue moving in tandem.

“shotaro.” you moaned.

shotaro looked up at you from in between your legs, humming into your pussy. your thighs pressed around his head again.

“keep going.” you said.

shotaro hummed again before focusing his eyes back on your heat. his speed picked up, the sucking and the licking and the kissing quickly became too much for you. shotaro pulled away his mouth to piston his two fingers into you again, wanting to see your face as you finished around him. the eye contact is what sent you over the edge and what made shotaro almost cum in his pants. your walls closing in on shotaro’s fingers almost made it impossible for him to move his digits. he kept going driven by the sound of his name falling from your lips.

by the time you came back to earth, your back was pressed into the mattress again and you were sure your head would leave an indent in the pillow. you looked down from your spot, shotaro looked down at you in amazement. your dress was haphazardly pushed push past your hips and your legs had folded in on themselves without shotaro keeping them apart. your hair was already sticking to your forehead from the sweat and you felt like you looked insane. shotaro looked at you like you were god in the flesh. maybe that’s why it was so easy for him to get on his knees for you.

you used the last of your strength to push yourself back up, eye level with shotaro who was resting on his haunches. you looked down at his boxers again. his dick twitched underneath the thin cotton layer, and you swore you could see a patch of wetness on the fabric. 

you turned your body around, showing the zipper of your dress to shotaro.

“help me with the zipper.” you said. 

any authority in your voice was replaced with raspiness. you had to clear your throat as shotaro slowly brought the zipper down your body. shotaro helped you out of your dress without asking, pulling your arms out and letting the dress fall to your stomach. hiss hands went to the clasp of your bra, waiting for you to tell him to help you with that as well.

“bra too, please.” you said.

it was the same process, him helping you out of it before tossing it to the end of the bed. shotaro slowly turned you back around, guiding you back down on the bed. shotaro gently takes off your dress and you lift your hips to help him.

when you are fully naked you hike up your legs, making your knees touch to cover up your heat. shotaro lets you cover yourself up, a gentle hand resting on your knee. your eyes keep drifting down to his boxers, and you put a gentle foot to rest on his dick. shotaro instantly hisses from the contact and he bucks up into your foot. shotaro’s action surprises you both. 

“fuck.” shotaro says breathlessly.

“take your boxers off.” you say while moving your feet.

shotaro tipped forward on the bed to hover his body over yours. you could see his dick springing free, bobbing around before sticking straight forward.

shotaro kept his body above yours waiting for your next order. you saw how angry and red his tip was, how it seemed to be aching.

“touch yourself.” you said quietly.

shotaro wrapped his hand around his dick and began pumping slowly. it was the same pace he had when fingering you, slow and controlled. the power you had over shotaro in that moment went straight to your head. he let out puffs of air as he continued to touch himself. you wrapped your arms around him and brought him closer to you, until your foreheads were touching. shotaro kissed your lips and you preened you neck to give him better access.

“i want it inside.” you whispered to shotaro.

shotaro’s hand let go of his length and went to your hips. his fingers were sticky as he pressed them into your skin.

“are you sure?” shotaro asked.

“don’t ask me that.” you said.

shotaro kissed your eyebrows that furrowed. he apologized before bringing his hips close to yours. you instantly forgave him when you felt his tip prod against your entrance. 

“ready?” shotaro asked.

you nodded your head and he brought your lips in for another kiss before sliding in. it was little to no resistance, but your walls wrapped around him all the same. you were basically sucking in shotaro until he bottomed out, both of you letting out moans at the feeling of him completely inside of you.

“keep going.” you whined against shotaro’s lips.

he didn’t have to be told twice before pulling out and thrusting into you again. your hips touched each time, causing you to wrap a leg around shotaro’s waist. his forehead still rested against yours, the sweat on both of your skin keeping you together. shotaro let his eyes wander down to your chest, watching your breasts move with his thrusts. you while body reacted to him, from your eyes all the way down to your feet. it gave shotaro the drive and energy behind his thrusts. he would fuck you like this all night if you’d let him. he used both of his hands to hold your cheeks, separating your foreheads to press kisses all over your face. your sweat and some tears stuck to his lips, you were all over him. shotaro kept a hand on your face as he looked down where you were swallowing him up with ease. 

“can i—” shotaro started.

“yes.” you whined.

shotaro used his hand to unwrap one of your legs and put it over his arm. this new angle made it feel like shotaro was splitting you down the middle. you cried and pressed your hands to his chest, feeling the taut muscle underneath his skin.

“shotaro.” you cried out. 

shotaro went back in, somehow even deeper than before.

“i know. i know.” shotaro cooed. 

he had to put his body upright to get a better angle, but he still found himself folding over to kiss your face. his other hand that wasn’t holding up your leg held your hand. he could tell you were trying so hard to keep your eyes open for him, but pleasure was taking over.you squeezed his hand each time he hit a part deep inside of you. shotaro was taken aback at how you looked so pretty like this, laid out for him. he wished it was him that would have your hand tomorrow.

“you should run away with me.” shotaro said in between thrusts. 

your eyes snapped open and you clamped around him. shotaro smiled and leaned over again to kiss new tears that had fallen.

“okay.” you moaned.

it was hard to remember what you were agreeing to. you just wanted shotaro to keep hitting that spot that was deep inside of you.

“we can get married and live in a cute little place, yeah?” shotaro said. 

his pace was picking up and you didn’t know what was happening anymore. you were slowly losing control of your body, driven by the steady sound of your thighs slapping shotaro’s skin. he let go of your leg to fuck you in missionary, pressing his chest so close to yours it kept your boobs in place.

“i love you.” shotaro whispered in your ear.

you brought your nails down shotaro’s back, your legs wrapped around his waist brought him closer. the tears had started to come out more aggressively, you could feel the warm trail down the sides of your face.

”i love you too.” you silently cried.

you pressed your head into shotaro’s neck as he kissed your temple. his arms went behind your back like he was holding you, and he was driving his hips deeper and harder into you. your moans had turned into high pitched cries. you didn’t have to say you were close, both you and shotaro knew. he also knew that he should pull out now, but you kept your legs wrapped around his waist as you started moving your hips to meet his.

“inside. please.” you whispered.

shotaro came immediately once you told him to. it came out in thick ropes while your walls milked his dick. even in his haze of euphoria, shotaro brought a hand to your clit to stimulate the bundle of nerves. your back arches off the bed as you came around him. you couldn’t stop the high octave sounds from escaping you, and shotaro wouldn’t have it any other way. he was letting out pathetic sounds himself, whining and whimpering your name underneath your canopy. 

shotaro didn’t pull out until he had gone soft, both of you shivering from the odd sensation. he rolled off of you and brought you close to him, arms wrapping around your body like he was giving you a hug. you started crying into shotaro’s chest and he rubbed your back, telling you it was going to be okay.

you and shotaro stayed awake well after the party was over. you spent your time tracing out his palm with your fingers before clasping your hand over his, clasping your hands together a million different ways to make sure he was really there. you kept your head on his chest, hearing his heartbeat drum against your ear as shotaro gave you forehead kisses. the canopy around your bed gave you semblance of privacy, keeping your naked bodies partially hidden through thin draping. the longer you stayed in that position the less you cared if someone walked in—maybe your soon-to-be husband would walk in and call off the marriage immediately. if your parents banished you and wrote you out your inheritance so be it. but you knew shotaro would never forgive himself if you lost your stability in life because of him. maybe you two would find a way around your marriage. rich people committed adultery all the time. 

neither of you said a word until you saw that the sun was beginning to rise. it was an awful feeling seeing the lamps in your room be outshined by the sun because it meant that the day was here. you would lose your last name and any freedom your parents allowed you would be under scrutiny by your husband. you weren’t marrying the one you truly loved, the one whose heartbeat increased against your ear. shotaro began gently rubbing your arm, trying to comfort you as soon as possible. but you were out of tears as you raised your head to look at him. you moved some of shotaro’s hair out of his face. you wish he could stay with you forever

“they’ll be here soon to get me ready for the wedding.” you said.

shotaro wanted to stay too. the way he hesitated before sitting up and kissing your hand that stayed near his face. he put on his clothes slowly, looking around for garments that were right in front of him. you stayed perched on your bed, watching the love of your life solemnly get ready to leave you forever. 

when shotaro was done he went to the nook, leaning over to open the window and take out the screen. you rolled out of bed and threw on your robe that hung from a pillar on your bed. you tied it tight while walking over to shotaro who was preparing himself to exit through the window.

“are you sure?” you asked, peering out the window. 

the drop wasn’t too bad, but it was a drop regardless. if shotaro hurt himself you don’t know what you would do. shotaro smiled and looked down himself. he turned to you and nodded.

“i can make it.” shotaro said. 

he took one last look at your room, seeing all the knick knacks you have collected over the years chaotically placed everywhere. your room was the only place in your house that didn’t feel sterile like a hospital or made him nervous. it was comforting the same way you were. shotaro couldn’t believe this was the last time he’d be in your room. he looked at your desk and the calendar that was above it, seeing ‘shotaro day’ in big bold letters two days ago. 

“will you be alright?” shotaro asked. 

you nodded, because that’s all you could do.

“i’ll find a way.” you said simply.

“we’ll find a way,” shotaro said. “your staff likes me, i’m sure they’ll tell me when i can get you alone.”

shotaro gave you one more longing kiss before moving out of your window. you had to look away when shotaro lowered himself from your windowsill, getting his body as close as possible to the ground. you wanted to grab his hands and pull him back up and beg him to stay with you. but you had to watch him drop down into the flowerbed on the backside of your house, perfectly fine from the fall.

shotaro gave you one last look and waved goodbye. you had to bite your lip to hold yourself back from yelling his name as he walked away.

[vulpixisananimal]

<Null> {Mal Du Pays} [Loop] (Siffrin)

(Polaris is @neoncityrain's character)

<Move fast. There's not much time until that sadness shows up again, and you needed every edge you could get. What about those strangers you ran into? Those travelers?>

{You shouldn't trust strangers.}

<I'm well aware, but they both seemed competent. A five on one fight would go much better than three on one.>

<You were standing under the window to that girls room, Vixul. You threw a few rocks up at it, trying to get her attention. Nothing.>

"You're sure that's the room?" <Asked Mirabelle. She looked fidgety.>

"Positive." <You threw another rock. Still nothing. What happened last time?>

{Odile interupt us, it's possible they left the room after dropping their companion off.}

<Break in then, got it.> "Alright, help me up Ramos."

<After a bit of work, you got up to the window, opening it much faster than you did the first time. Good thing too, because the room was different from last time.>

<Polaris, that was his name, right? He was laying here unconscious, the door was open, notebook and spear taken. Left in a hurry? Either way, you pushed the window up and hopped inside. You call back to Mira and Ramos.>

"They're not here."

"Oh. . ." <Mira looks away.>

"Got here too late?" <Ramos asks. You nod.>

"Doesn't change the plan, Mira do you think you could give Ramos a hand?" <You say, leaning out the window and reaching a hand down for them.>

"Of course!" <Mira replied. She's trying to hide anxiety. You can imagine why. With a bit of work, you're able to help the defender-in-training in the room.>

<They dusted themself off and looked around, eyes landing on the unconscious stranger.) "That's him?"

"Yeah, better get to work, Rams." (You smile at them, and blink a few times- ah, wh-)

<Well that was sudden. Do you mind?>

(I don't know what just happened?!? Where, okay, update me?)

<One moment. You walk over to the window.> "Mira! If you could hide near the entrance, we'll run down to fight the sadness once it's inside, wait for us, okay?"

"A-alright!" <She nods, and is off. Now, Siffrin, welcome back.>

(You hold your head, Ramos was over by Polaris, a few fingers on his head and muttering something under his breath. You lean on a wall, sliding down to sit. Stars. . .)

{Putting our faith in strangers, Null? You don't even know if those wanderers are on our side or not.}

<Do you have a better idea? The tables turned fast last time, we need help.>

"Then why don't we try and undo the mind craft first. . ." (You mumble under your breath.)

"Huh?" (Ramos glances over at you.)

"O-oh nothing." (You smile at them.)

<Smooth.>

{Idiot.}

(Hey! Can we go back to planning?)

<Fine, alright, well the sadness was tough, it becomes invulnerable at times, but was weak to rock attacks. And it healed.>

(And blinding hurt!)

{Curious. You remember fighting it, do not forget it can freeze people in time.}

(Right, we haven't fought any sadness like that in, well. . . When?)

<The loops.>

(Right.)

{And there has been an absence of sadness, although they are slowly repopulating. Like some sort of King related population boom.}

(Not a fan of that idea, thank you very much.)

<Ugh, I hate you both.>

"I'm getting somewhere, I think." (Ramos speaks up, you see some sweat forming. You get up.)

"How. . . How does mind craft work?" (You ask.)

"You, don't know?" (Ramos asks.) "I-I mean, you seemed, to have figured most of it out after, uh-"

"No not like that, I mean how do you cast it." (You roll your eye.) "Basic crafts need your craft symbol, healing needs some form of focusing, body craft is a whole thing apparently, so. . ."

"Oh!" (Ramos thinks for a moment.) ". . . It's, like, like a mantra. You repeat something, in your head or with your words, willing the body, nerves, and mind to, uh, to follow."

"Right. . ." <A command.>

(You watch in silence, and close your eye. A mantra, huh. . .)

{"I wish I could have seen it." }

(Huh?)

{A mantra. Both to wish that they were your friend, and to know your secrets. That's what they said when you were effected by mind craft.}

(Oh. . .)

<Did you really forget?>

(Do I need to even answer that?)

"Okay, I'm, nearly done." (Ramos mutters, you let them work. You'll have to ask them about that "mantra" sometime.)

(In a flash, the strangers eyes opened, in a panic, he punched Ramos and dashed off the bed, fast.)

"Woah hey! We're not here to fight!" (You put up your hands.) "My friend just fixed you up, see?"

"Like I blinding believe that!!" (Said, Polaris? Yeah Polaris, that's right- wait.)

<Focus.>

(Ramos grumbled and got off the floor, holding their chest.) "Hey! That hurt!"

(Just talk.) "I promised Wren that we could help! That's your friend, right?"

"Yeah, friend." (Polaris backed up into the corner, looking between you and Ramos.) ". . . You know Wren?"

<Do you remember what Wren was like?> "Of course! Though I don't think he liked me very much."

"He's just dumb like that." <He pouted, looking away.> "Yeah, I'm Polaris. Who are you anyway?"

"Siffrin, savior of Vaugarde at your service~" (You say with a little bow.) "And this is Ramos, they're traveling with me and my party."

"You said blinding earlier?" (Ramos interrupts. Right, his accent sounded familiar.)

(Polaris blinked.) ". . . Uh, yeah? I did?"

{Ask it.} "Where are you from?"

"I-" {He stops, and looks away.} ". . . It doesn't matter."

<He's like us.>

(Yeah. . . You glance at Ramos, then take a seat on the floor.)

". . You woke up on a beach, probably in a boat, right? And you couldn't remember anything?"

(The look Polaris gave you was one of insanity and shock. He paused, then sat down.) ". . . How'd you know."

"Well, that's what happened to me." {Are we really doing this? Again, he's a stranger.}

(We have to! We were so confused for so long, and, if we can help. . .)

{Null?}

<. . . I'm with Siffrin.>

{Fine.}

(Alright, you breathe in, and out. You know the story. You know it. Don't focus on it. Just talk without conscious input.)

(Just, talk.)

"I, I was having dinner, and I didn't want to eat my veggies."

(Polaris and Ramos are looking at you, waiting.)

"And, I wanted to get back at my parents. So, I took our small boat, went out, and when I looked back. . ."

(. . . . . . . .)

"Well?" (Ramos asks. Polaris looks sad.)

(Huh-? What were you talking about?)

"I couldn't make anything out." <You took over.> "It slipped from the mind. The more you look, the harder it is to see. A cruel joke, right?"

<No one laughed.>

". . . I woke up knowing nothing. Life was a blur. Just, wandering-"

"Like driftwood on the waves." <Polaris cuts you off.>

"Huh?" (Ramos asks.)

"That's what my teacher used to say." (He rubbed his shoulder.) "They were nice, they said I went through life like driftwood on the waves."

<Huh. That sounded familiar.>

"What did they teach?" (You ask.)

". . . Huh?" (He looked up. Confused.) "What'd who teach?"

(You and Ramos look at eachother. Stars. . .) "It's alright. Forget it."

(. . . . The uncomfortable silence is broken by Ramos.) "Uh. . . Soooo how'd you end up with those two?"

"Vixul and Wren?" (He pinched the bridge of his nose.) "Bleh, Vixul showed up in the town I was in, I got a weird feeling I knew her so, I just followed her. A bit later we met Wren and he tagged along."

"Well, did Vixul know you?" (You ask.)

"I, don't know." (He rubbed his head.) "She. . . Blinding- she's only ever said 'iTs coMpLiCatEd' and left it at that! She knew my NAME! I didn't even know my name!!!"

"She. . ." (You're looking at Ramos, what is going on?)

"Polaris, she told me my name's Polaris. Never told me how, never told me why. Just, that it's Polaris."

(There's an even longer and more uncomfortable silence. How is that possible? Who the hell is she?)

{She's a prime suspect is who she is.}

<Why? Why would she mind craft her own traveling companion. Why wouldn't she mind craft us, either.>

{We could be mind crafted already and not even realize-}

(That's not what I mean! We can't place her accent, she says she's from somewhere impossible to guess, she's strong, she knew Polaris' name even though he's from the island, so, who is she!)

{. . . . . . . I don't trust her.}

<Do you trust anyone?>

{Do you?}

(Okay that's enough. You stand up.) "Listen, we're looking for the person who started this mind craft stuff, do you know if anything weird happened? Or. . ."

"Huh? Oh, uh. . ." (He scrunched his face up trying to think.) "Big, buff looking guy touched me and my head got weird."

"How weird?" (Asked Ramos)

"You know that feeling of someone looking over your shoulder? Uhm, that. Kinda." (He crossed his arms.) "Then I was knocked out, so."

"That was Wren." (You add.)

"Of course it was, blinding-"

(There was a crash and a scream from downstairs.)