#not tagging loop this is my shame alone

[kat1nkulta]

Having one of those ”if someone even dislikes Loop I’ll die. I’ll projectile vomit my guts out because I want every person alive to love them, to know their tragedy, to know how every aspect of them somehow has 10 layers of ’wow thats awful’ behind it” moods

[steveseddie]

when the clock strikes twelve

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles “midnight” & @steddiebingo 12 days of christmas mini event “carol” | rated: t | wc: 1000 | tags: different first meeting, post season 2, new year’s kiss

read on ao3

It’s five minutes to midnight when Steve steps into the bathroom at Tina’s house.

If he’d known that coming to her New Year’s Eve party would mean welcoming the new year alone in the same bathroom where his girlfriend called their relationship bullshit, Steve would’ve stayed home.

“If it isn’t the King of Hawkins,” a voice says, startling Steve and making him turn around, his heart hammering in his chest. But it’s not a demodog or fucking Billy Hargrove, just Eddie Munson sitting on the sink with his legs swinging back and forth.

“Munson.”

“Welcome to my office, Your Highness,” Eddie says with a dorky salute.

Steve glances around them. “Your office?”

“This is where I do business, you see,” he says, flipping the lid of his metal lunchbox. “Isn’t that why you’re here?”

Steve hangs a hand from his neck. “No, uh, I’m hiding from someone.”

Eddie perks up with interest. “Who?”

“Carol Perkins.”

“Your buddy Tommy’s girl?”

Steve’s nose wrinkles. “He’s not my buddy anymore and she’s not his girl either. And for some reason Carol thinks the best way to get back at him for being a dick is to kiss me at midnight.”

“And you don’t want that?” Steve shakes his head. “Thought you and Wheeler were done– or are you not over her yet? Don’t worry, big boy. There’s still time for that New Year’s resolution.”

“Shut up,” Steve says, a blush creeping up his cheeks. “It’s not about Nancy, I just don’t want to kiss the first girl who throws herself at me, you know?”

“I do not, Your Majesty,” Eddie says with an amused snort. “I’ve never participated in such activities.”

Steve tilts his head in question. “Kissing someone on New Year’s?”

Eddie looks away, nervously playing with a rip on his jeans. “Or you know, ever.”

He can’t see the way Steve’s eyebrows shoot up but he probably hears the surprise in his voice when he asks, “You’ve never kissed anyone?”

Eddie purses his lips. They’re nice lips, Steve observes. It’s a shame no one has kissed them. “No, Harrington. Go ahead and laugh it up,” he says, his voice clipped.

“I’m not laughing! I’m just–” Confused that someone as hot as you hasn’t kissed anyone. Steve clears his throat, his blush getting worse with that thought even if Eddie can’t read his mind. “I mean. Why haven’t you?”

Eddie scoffs. “People aren’t exactly lining up to kiss the town’s freak,” he says. Then hesitates before he adds, “Specifically guys.”

So the rumors about Munson are true. “Oh.”

The confession makes Steve blush, despite Eddie being the one who admitted something. He doesn’t know what to say. He’s afraid he’ll open his mouth and something stupid will come out. Something like– ‘I’m here! I’m a guy!’

So he stays silent, which makes Eddie wary.

“That’s it? You’re not gonna run? Call me names? Punch me?”

Steve can see that his shoulders are tense, his knuckles white where they’re gripping the sink tightly. It’s like he’s getting ready to run in case Steve reacts badly.

But running away or punching Eddie couldn’t be further away from what Steve wants to do right now.

“No, I–”

“Ten seconds to midnight!” Someone yells downstairs.

“I– I want to do something else,” Steve admits, his voice wavering slightly. He hesitantly steps closer to Eddie, who narrows his eyes.

“What?”

“Five seconds!” The same voice yells and the crowd joins the countdown.

“Four!”

Steve stands directly between Eddie’s legs.

“Three!”

He puts his hands on Eddie’s waist.

“Two!”

Steve raises his eyebrows in a silent question– is this okay?

“One!”

Eddie gives a tiny nod.

And then Steve swoops in, pressing his lips against Eddie’s as the crowd downstairs cheers and Eddie’s watch starts beeping.

Somewhere in the distance, fireworks go off but Steve could swear he can feel them inside him when Eddie kisses back, looping his arms around his neck.

Steve tilts his head, determined to give Eddie a good first kiss. He licks softly at his bottom lip, making him gasp. Then he kisses him a little harder, softly touching Eddie’s tongue with his, feeling the way he shudders.

He knows this is probably longer than the usual New Year’s kiss but Steve doesn’t care. He doesn’t want to stop. And apparently neither does Eddie, who pulls Steve closer and drags his teeth across his bottom lip.

It’s only when they need to breathe that they break apart.

Eddie’s eyes stay closed longer and only flutter open when Steve cups his neck and strokes an idle thumb against his jaw.

He decides that dazed and kiss-drunk are a good look on him.

“Happy New Year,” he says with a lopsided grin.

Eddie snorts amusedly. “Yeah, Happy New Year.”

The noise downstairs starts to die down. People are probably going back to drinking and dancing, maybe even leaving. He could easily slip out without running into Carol, but he doesn’t want to, not unless–

“Hey, uh, do you wanna get out of here?” Steve blurts out.

Eddie blinks. “Me?”

He can’t help but roll his eyes. “No, the other guy I just made out with in the bathroom.”

“And here I thought I was special,” Eddie says with pouty lips– fuck, Steve wants to kiss them again.

So he does. Just a quick press of lips.

When he pulls back, he places another small kiss to the corner of Eddie’s mouth.

“Say yes,” he says before doing the same on the other side. “And I’ll show you special.”

Steve hears the way Eddie’s breath hitches and feels a smirk teasing at his lips.

Only for it to be wiped away by Eddie grabbing him by his neck and pulling him in for more than a press of lips.

Damn, he’s a fast learner.

“Yes,” Eddie says once he pulls back, giving him a shit-eating grin.

Steve sends a silent ‘thank you’ to Carol Perkins before reaching for Eddie’s hand to drag him out of there.

[warlocksoup]

LOOPED: MIYA ATSUMU

she's stuck in a loop: texting him late on a friday night, letting him into her bed, clinging to him, silently begging for him to stay, only for him to leave again.

masterlist

tags/warnings: friends with benefits, implied love triangle, angst, hooking up, unhappy ending, kinda softcore smut but no actual smut, hardly proofread, mdni

word count: 2.2k

an: thinking abt starting a gen taglist for works like this since im planning on pivoting away from writing a bunch of series and focusing more on things like this. idk. let me know what you think if you want i can't make you. also do i think this is my best writing? no but writing has been so hard lately im proud of myself for getting this out

Atsumu likes to hold her after they fuck. 

His bare leg is hooked over her hip, and his arm is thrown over her shoulder, pulling her into his chest. It’s hot under her sheets, and Astumu’s skin is coated in a thin layer of sweat. It’s humid and unbearable, but she bears it, holding onto him by his waist, because it’s the only time he’s like this with her. 

“Thank you,” he says, and he tucks her head under his chin. His eyes are closed, and he lets out a long, deep breath. “I needed that.” 

He thanks her like she did him a favor. Her arms go a bit tighter around his waist, and she presses her ear against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. “Yeah,” she mumbles, her cheek pressed flat against his skin. “Anytime.” 

Atsumu runs a hand over the back of her head, smoothing down her hair. His fingers continue, dragging slowly down the center of her spine. “Do you mind if I stay for a little while?” he asks, voice dropping to a raspy whisper that makes her feel so desperate that shame boils just under his touch. 

Her eyes close. “No,” she says, her lips brushing against his bare chest as she speaks. “You can stay for as long as you want.” 

It’s like this every week. She always expects it to be different, and it never is. Every week, when it feels like it’s been dark for too long and she’s alone and can’t sleep, she texts him after she promised herself she wouldn’t. Sometimes he responds and says he’ll be right over, sometimes he replies and says he can’t. Sometimes he shows up without saying anything at all. 

It’s been like this for a while. Long enough for her to feel embarrassed that she’s letting him drag her along like this. 

He hums, and she can feel vibrations throughout his chest. “You’re so soft,” he tells her, “it makes it hard to leave.” 

Atsumu will leave, though. Before the morning comes, he’ll be out the door without saying a word to her. It doesn’t seem very difficult, when he does go. He always peels her off of him like she’s some piece of dirty laundry and slinks out of the room when he thinks she’s fallen asleep. 

His breathing steadies like he’s slipping into sleep. She tilts her chin forward, and places a soft kiss on the center of his chest. She won’t be able to sleep. She’s too wired, it’s too hot, and her neck lays uncomfortably on top of the pillow. When the morning comes she’s going to be sore and tired, and it will be a strain to get anything done. 

Her eyes close, and she’s sure that Atsumu’s knocked out when she whispers, “You don’t have to leave, y’know.” 

He doesn’t say anything. She wasn’t expecting him to. She keeps her eyes closed, and thinks of his warmth, trying her best to avoid thoughts of it disappearing when the morning comes. 

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

Atsumu stands at the edge of her bed and pulls on a pair of sweatpants. “I’m sorry to leave so soon,” he tells her, thumbs tucked under the waistband as they settle at the bottom of his hips. “I have to be at the gym so goddamn early tomorrow.” 

Her legs are crossed underneath the blanket and she sits upright, holding the pillow he usually sleeps on against her lap. “”S okay,” she tells him, watching as he grabs his hoodie off of the floor and throws it on over his head. “I’m not offended or anything.” 

“Honestly, I probably shouldn’t have come over tonight,” he confesses, and now she’s starting to feel a bit of a sting. “I just really needed to see you tonight.” 

She doesn’t know how to feel about this. She shuffles a bit, an indiscernible feeling settling uncomfortably over her skin. Atsumu doesn’t say things like that. She doesn’t know how to react. “Is something wrong?” 

Atsumu freezes, placing his hands in the pocket of his sweatshirt. His expression is screwed up, knotted. Something is wrong. She leans forward, like she’s expecting him to whisper it in her ear, like he’s about to profess something profound and close to his chest. But Atsumu just shakes his head, “Nah, it’s nothing,” he says. He pats the pockets of his sweatpants. “Have you seen my phone?” 

She’s disappointed, but she doesn’t know why. She leans back and reaches towards her nightstand, yanking her phone off the charger and dialing Atsumu’s number. She knows it by heart, and hopes that he doesn’t notice. It buzzes from under her sheets. 

He leaves half past midnight, forty minutes after he got there. She can’t sleep once he’s gone. She stays up, scrolling mindlessly through her phone, trying to wear down her mind, make it too tired to keep thinking of him. 

Sakusa texts her. Five minutes past one. “Was Atsumu at your place?” 

She ignores it. 

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

Atsumu lies on his side, and draws patterns on her bare stomach with the tip of his finger. She doesn’t say anything, out of fear of making him stop. She watches him instead, watching his face as he stares down at her midriff. He has this slight smile on his face, and it makes her feel pleasantly uneasy.

“I like your stomach,” he tells her. “I think it’s my favorite part of you.” 

The smile that grows on her face must give her away. She’s grateful for how occupied he is with her skin. “You have a favorite part of me?” 

“Yeah, I mean, I like all of you,” Atsumu tells her. “But I do have favorites. Your stomach, your nose, your thighs, fuck, just so much of you,” he sighs, as if overwhelmed. “I mean, a man can only take so much.” 

She doesn’t think it’s fair, that she’s expected not to fall in love with him when he says things like that. So unabashedly, completely unprompted. And there is this small part of her that kind of resents him, for things like this, saying all of that when he’s going to leave her before the morning comes. But she likes it more than she could ever hate it. So she smiles, and she says, “I don’t think I could pick my favorite part of you,” and means it more than she should. 

Atsumu’s hand stops, and he looks up at her. He grins, and it makes her stomach flip. 

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

It’s fifteen minutes to midnight, and she’s pacing in her bedroom, trying not to look at her phone. She texted him twenty minutes ago, and she thinks if she keeps herself from looking at her phone, it’ll make him respond quicker. She can’t back her logic, but she’s well past the point of reason. 

He hadn’t talked to her all week. Which, she tries to tell herself, isn’t too weird. He’s busy. He’s a professional athlete. He has better things to do than entertain her and her whims, and what is she to him, really, besides a person to sleep with? They weren’t that close when they started hooking up, and it’s not like the fucking as brought them closer together. 

But still, her stomach knots up with nerves. She feels like something’s wrong. Maybe she gave him too much of herself. Maybe he doesn’t want as much of her as she’s willing to give. 

Her phone vibrates against her nightstand, and she nearly breaks a toe rushing to answer it. On her home screen is a notification from him. 

Can’t make it tonight. Sorry. 

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

She always tries to give Atsumu what he wants. He likes it when she begs, so she begs. She gets down on her knees and begs to please him. He likes the feeling of her on top of him, thighs squeezing on either side of his hips, so she climbs on top of him, not stopping when her thighs start to burn. He likes it wet, so it’s wet. His hair tugged, his neck nibbled on, his back scratched. Whatever he likes, she gives it to him. 

And he keeps making these small little grunts of pleasure and his eyes are fluttering, but Atsumu feels far away. Unimpressed with the way her body moves against his. His hands lay lazily on her hips, not gripping tightly on her flesh. He doesn’t whisper praise in her ear. He doesn’t bite down on his lip and tell her yes, he likes it like that, keep doing that. He’s quiet, withdrawn. 

She keeps trying to give him more, and more, desperation clawing on the inside of her chest. But Atsumu gives her nothing. He takes what she offers silently, and it starts to feel like he’s keeping his eyes closed to avoid looking at her. 

After, he doesn’t hold her. Atsumu lies on his back with his hands tucked under his head, staring at her ceiling. He doesn’t say anything. 

Her body feels like it’s burning. She feels humiliated. The silence is bad but she thinks talking might be worse. She doesn’t want him to leave but she doesn’t want him to stay if it’s going to be more of this. The air is so thick she thinks she might choke on it. 

Atsumu turns his head to look at her. “Have you talked to Omi recently?” 

The question shocks her so badly she turns her head to him, face scrunched up in confusion. “What?” 

He shrugs. “He hasn’t been talking to me lately. I was just wondering if he said anything to you.” 

Her head straightens out and she looks back up at the ceiling. “He texted me the other week and asked if you were here. I didn’t know if I should tell him or not, and it didn’t really seem like any of his business, so I just didn’t respond.” 

Atsumu hums. “I think he’s jealous of you.” 

“Do you want him to be?” she asks at once, and then regrets it. 

Atsumu doesn’t say anything to this. He gets quiet, and she has to bite down on her lip to keep herself from saying something else stupid. Somehow, the air gets heavier. 

“I’m sorry,” she says after a minute of silence. 

“It’s okay,” Atsumu says, and he doesn’t mean it. He leaves a minute later, and tells her it’s because he has an early practice, but she’s not stupid. 

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

Atsumu presses her against her bedroom wall, and when she closes her eyes, all she can see is him and Sakusa, arm’s slung around each other’s shoulders in a post-victory celebration earlier that day. And the way Atsumu looked at him makes her feel rotten. It hurts to remember, and Atsumu pounding into her does little to distract from it. 

She’s the loser in this war, she thinks, arms around his shoulders and leg hooked over his hip, too disconnected from her body to feel anything. It doesn’t matter how many times Atsumu has crawled back into her bed and held her against his chest. It doesn’t matter how in love with him she is. It’s always Sakusa. It’ll always be Sakusa. 

He holds her tightly after, their legs tangled together and his cheek resting on the top of her head. His phone’s in his pocket and it keeps buzzing. Atumu ignores it, and she can’t stop herself from thinking that it’s him.

She swallows. Her throat feels dry. “Someone keeps texting you,” she says, because she wants him to acknowledge it. 

Atsumu inhales deeply. “Ignore it,” he says, “just lie with me.” 

She closes her eyes, and does as she’s told. 

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

Can I come over tonight? 

He texted her first. He doesn’t usually, but he did. The notification popped up over a video the MSBY Black Jackals post-match. Meian’s giving a courtside interview, but just behind him, she can see Atsumu and Sakusa, shoulders squared and tensed, keeping a strict distance from each other as they exit the court. She can feel the chill through the screen of her phone. 

She doesn’t know what it is that holds the both of them back from each other. Maybe it’s her. Maybe Sakusa doesn’t realize that Atsumu would drop her immediately if Sakusa ever asked him to. 

She’s always known that he would, though. Whatever she has to offer doesn’t seem to compare to Sakusa. She’s just a temporary fix, really. Just something to hold Atsumu over until Sakusa realizes this. 

She taps on the notification, and her conversation with Atsumu pops up. For a second, she scrolls through it. Minimal talking, mostly texts from her, with late responses from him. She can see it there, how much Atsumu doesn’t care about her. It doesn’t matter if he asks to come over or tells her he loves her stomach or how hard it is for him to leave. He just doesn’t care about her. Not the way she cares about him. 

Her thumbs hover over the keyboard for a moment, paused in contemplation, before she types out a quick, yeah, sure, and hits send without thinking anymore about it.

If Sakusa hasn’t figured it out yet, then she’s not about to help him. She’ll just keep giving and giving, until there’s nothing left to give.

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Made A Beautiful Mess, I Guess

Steven Grant x afab!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • Kinktober 2024 Masterlist • Day 4: Collars

Summary: Steven has a surprise.

A/N: Thank you @thexsanctuaryx for fixing my typos and rambles and the mess I made.

Warnings: swearing, collars, sub!Steven (but cheeky), oral (both receiving), dry humping, lube, butt plugs, 69, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 3006

Steven shifts a little, sinking his teeth into his thumbnail. He moves again, adjusting his position on the bed as he fiddles with the open box in front of him. 

He shouldn’t have bought this. 

Shame burns low in his chest, igniting his anxiety further. Faintly, in the very back of his head he can feel Marc stirring. It’s not often now that they aren’t in constant communication with each other, but he doesn’t want his input at the moment. 

“Vegan bacon.” He mutters quietly to Marc, his signal that he’s fine but needs a little alone time.

He can feel Marc’s thumbs up, hazy and distant as he fades further back and away.

“Thanks, mate.” He whispers out loud and sighs.

He really shouldn’t have bought this. 

“Hi!” You call out cheerily as you open the door and put your bag down, pulling off your shoes quickly. “I…”

You pause as you see Steven jump, almost cat-like in his sudden panic. He spins around on the bed, eyes wide and panicked like you’d just caught him with his hands in the cookie jar.

You look at him, “You okay?” 

“Yes, hi– hi Love!” He jumps up from the bed, hands behind his back, then looks to the bed, to the box on top of the covers. Then back to you. He swallows. “How, how are you? How were the shops? Good, yeah? Always good those corner shops, always tip top. That’s a funny saying, isn’t it? Tip top, tip top. Wonder where that came from, I mean it makes sense, doesn’t it? The highest, you know? The top? So the best and-”

“Woah, woah, woah,” you take a step forward, your voice soothing and kind.

He freezes, rabbit in the headlights as you get closer and then dramatically looks to the box on the bed. 

“What’s in the box, Steven?” You somehow manage to resist turning the question into a Seven reference. 

“I… erm…” He swallows, his shoulders slumping. “Nothing?”

“Are you asking me?” 

He sighs, “No, love, I’m sorry.” He sits down on the edge of the mattress, looking very sorry for himself. 

You walk over, sitting down next to him softly and purposefully ignoring every screaming urge to look at the box’s contents. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” You ask, leaning your shoulder against his to invite physical contact. 

“I…” He shakes his head, screwing up his eyes. “This is so stupid, I’m sorry, I’m making a big deal out of this, aren’t I? Yes.” 

“It’s okay, it’s not stupid if it’s bothering you.” You pat his thigh soothingly. 

He nods glumly for a moment before he turns and grabs the box behind him and hands it to you. 

He stares at his fingers, nervously fiddling with the skin around his thumbnail. 

What’s in the box, is not what you were expecting. To be honest, you weren’t actually sure what you were expecting, but still. 

Inside, wrapped in pretty tissue paper, was a collar with a large metal loop stitched onto the front. There were also matching wrist and ankle cuffs, the latter of which were connected by a spreader bar. 

“These are nice.” You say gently as you admire them. 

Steven groans, squirming a little and putting his head in his hands. 

“What?” You can’t keep the little smile out of your voice at the sound of his whine. “Steven?” You put your hand on his shoulder. 

“You’re taking the piss.” He grumbles through his fingers.

“I’m not.”

“You are.” 

“Steven,” you put the box down on the floor so you can kneel on the bed and lean closer to him. You kiss his cheek. “I am not taking the piss, mick, or anything out of you.” 

It takes a moment but he looks at you through a gap in his fingers. “It’s stupid.” 

You shake your head. 

“I should have talked to you first.” 

Your expression softens, “Why? You don’t need my permission to buy things?” 

“No, but,” He sits up a little, moving his body fully to face you. “I… I don’t know if you want to use them with me… I should have asked if you were interested in…”

“In tying you up?” You ask with a smile. 

He blushes a little, a faint hint of pink highlighting his cheeks and the very tip of his ears. “Yeah.” 

You kiss his cheek, a giddy feeling settling in your stomach. “I’ll tie you up.” 

Steven swallows, the audible gulp echoing around the room. 

For a long moment, you watch him, raking your eyes over his face and form as he squirms softly under the weight of your gaze. 

“Strip.” You finally say, your voice low but commanding. 

He jumps to his feet instantly, hurriedly undoing his belt buckle and pushing his jeans and boxers down his legs. His cock springs free, semi hard already as he kicks his trousers off his feet and pulls off his shirt and top. 

You have to put a steadying hand on his hip to help him to keep his balance, and stop him from cracking his head open on the side table. His skin is warm, practically vibrating under your touch as anticipation shivers and flutters in his stomach. 

When, in record time, he’s bare, you give him a second to breathe, to look at you with darkening eyes before you nod your head nonchalantly to the bed. 

He practically jumps onto it, wiggling into the middle on his back and giving you an eager grin. His anxiety having completely jumped out of the window the second you said you were on board. 

You snort, grabbing the ankle straps and spreader out of the box and kneeling on the bed. He parts his legs immediately, giving his hips an extra jiggle as he moves to make his cock bounce. 

“You’re so naughty, Steven.” You giggle and he nods rapidly. 

“So naughty, love. I deserve to be put in my place, have some kind of punishment.”

“Oh really?” You take hold of his left leg and secure the cuff.

“Definitely.” He gives you a cheeky wink. 

“Is that okay?” You check as you buckle the fastening, “Not too tight?” 

He shivers as you pull the fastening, swallows, and then wiggles his foot. “Nah, all good, feels right.” 

You nod, “Okay,” and take hold of his other ankle. “Let me know though, straight away, if it becomes uncomfortable in a non sexy way.” 

He mirrors your nod, his cock twitching. “I promise. Straight away.”

“Good.” You smile, enjoying how he lets you manhandle him a little as you adjust the spreader once both feet are secured and move him into the position you want.

He bites his lip as he smiles, watching you gleefully as you get up and move to his wrists. He holds them out to you instantly, holding them steady as you put on the bracelet cuffs and shivering again as you tighten them. 

You notice how his dick twitches again, how hard it has grown. But you don’t comment on it. 

Slowly you move his hands over the top of his head and attach the chain to his right wrist, threading it through the headboard a few times before clipping the end onto his left.

“That okay?”

He gives a soft experimental tug, there’s a fraction of movement in the position he’s in, and he nods and smiles, “Perfect.” 

“Alright, do you want a pillow under your head?” 

He shakes his head.

“I’m gonna put one under your hips though, is that okay?” 

He nods. 

“Okay,” you grab one from the top of the bed, the memory foam one that you know he likes, and slide it underneath him, making sure his lower back is supported. Steven helps as much as he can in his position, arching up and wriggling into place. 

You straddle his thighs, purposefully trying your best to avoid touching his leaking cock, so you can lean down and put on the collar. 

Steven’s breathing hitches, his eyelids heavy as he raises his head to assist. You pull it closed, about to fasten the metal buckle when he whispers. 

“Tighter, please.” 

His heartbeat echoes along the rich length of his dick, his plump bottom lip pouted out ever so slightly as he breathes hard. 

“Of course.” You kiss his nose and he groans, the sound increasing in volume as you tighten the collar. “How’s that?” 

“Good.” He moans, the sound is strained, but not from the difficulty of talking. 

“Good.” You mirror, looking over him for a moment all spread out and tied up for you. The only thing that’s missing is a sleek, bright ribbon in a bow around his chest. Then it would be perfect.

You give the metal loop on the collar a soft, experimental tug that has his back arching and pliant moans eagerly leaving his lips.

Steven whines a little as you get up, watching you intently as you open the side drawer and pull out a few things. You hold up the vibrating butt plug to him with an eyebrow raised and he nods rapidly again. 

“Yes, please.” 

You smile and kiss his forehead, nuzzling into his hair for a moment before you sit back on the bed by his feet and get comfortable. 

It takes you a good thirty seconds longer than necessary for you to settle. Just amping up Steven’s waiting time until see a tiny tremor run through his stomach muscles, then you flick open the bottle of lube and coat the butt plug liberally. 

Steven shivers at the sound of the lube, a practically Pavlovian response at this point.

The plug is a light sky blue, the kind that wouldn’t look out of place on a crisp winter’s day and it’s not particularly wide. You know from experience that Steven can handle much, much bigger without any problem, and that this toy, in particular, he likes to take without any prep. How he enjoys the sensation of being slowly stretched open with it, how his thighs shake and voice catches when you turn it on and let the vibrations drive him to the highest of pleasures. 

Steven shivers as you press the bulbous tip against his entrance, raising his knees to make the access easier. 

He gasps as you push, twisting it slightly back and forth as you ease it past his tight ring of muscle. 

“Oh fuck, love, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he squirms as much as he can, his hips bucking shallowly as you fit the plug inside and it settles against his prostate. 

You grin wickedly, a dampness growing between your legs as you watch him writhe. “Right spot?” You tease.

“Yep, yes, yep, definitely, perfect, oh!” He groans, his eyes rolling back as you turn it on. The vibrations hum around the room, a low hum that has Steven gasping and shuddering instantly. No matter how many times you used the toy he never fully got used to the feeling of it, the deep buzz that fans out in his stomach and spreads rapidly along his veins. 

You enjoy the sight before you for a moment before you stand, rolling your neck and stretching your arms. For a moment you consider going to the bathroom, or at least somewhere out of Steven’s line of sight, to listen to his sweet sounds in private. 

“Please,” he says so gently, his eyebrows pitched together, seemingly having read your mind. “Please, stay here and,” he groans, closing his eyes for a second, “please, your turn to strip?” He blinks heavily, knowing you can’t resist it when he pulls that expression, that you would do practically anything he asked. 

You let out a small laugh and click your tongue, “You’re not playing fair Grant.”

He flutters his eyelashes at you. “What do you mean? I always play fair.” 

“Liar.” You chastise and he grins widely as you begin to pull off your shirt.

You strip slowly, making more of a show of it than is completely necessary, but savouring the little pants and moans that escape from Steven’s lips. How they slowly grow louder and louder as more of your skin is exposed to the air. 

When your bra joins the rest of your clothes on the floor his groan is guttural and deep, his arm muscles tense as you slowly rub your breasts, teasing your nipples until they harden under your fingers. 

“Ugghhh, love…” He licks his lips as he watches you greedily. “Want them in my mouth, please.” 

You giggle and shake your head. “You don’t get to boss me around.”

He lets out a frustrated moan. “I’m not ordering, I’m asking nicely.” 

But you chuckle again, “I know your plans Steven, I know how you cheat to get your way.” You tap your fingers along his ribs as you speak, punctuating each word. 

He groans again, pretending to pout but unable to fully hide his smile. “Meanie.”

“Oh,” you take off your panties, now completely naked, “I’ll show you mean.” 

He gulps, his eyes shining with excitement. 

You climb on top of him, your knees on either side of his hips as you settle down to rest your soaking folds along his warm length. You can feel the vibrations running along his skin. 

He hisses, his eyes rolling back for a second as your pussy makes contact. “Mmmm, yes, that’s it.” 

You know what he expects, for you to rise up and take him in hand, to line him up and slowly sink down. But you don’t. 

His eyes open quickly at the sound of you opening the lube bottle again.

“Love?” 

“Hmm?” You pretend to ignore him as you pour some on the tips of your fingers and slowly reach down and circle your clit. 

You gasp at the slight coolness, leaning back and putting your free hand on the bed between his legs to keep your balance. 

He groans, gasping. “Oh fuck, yes, yes, yes,” he bucks his hips a little, his chest heaving as you rub between your legs, slowly grinding back and forth against his cock and coating him in your slick. 

“Fuck, all nice and hot and wet,” he bites his lip between his teeth, holding his head up as far as he can to watch you fuck yourself. “Mmmmmm, love, god yes, feel so good rubbing against me.” He gasps, his voice rising at the end as he feels your pussy and thighs twitch. 

He looks up at you with desperation, breathing rapidly as heat begins to build at your core. 

“Love, love, fuck, please look at me?” 

You do exactly as he asks straight away.

“Oh god yes, thank you, thank you, does it feel nice? Do you feel good?” 

You nod, a soft whine bubbling in your chest. 

He swallows, his voice thick, “Rise up for a second, yeah? Put more lube along my dick and then rub against it more, really fuck yourself against it.” 

You nod again, your body moving to do exactly what he asks before your brain has even registered the words. You sit up, grab the lube and practically empty half the bottle along his thick cock and heavy balls.

Steven shivers, the coolness quickly easing as you use your hand to spread it liberally. “Oh fuck, yeah, that’s it. All nice and slippery for you. Come back on.” 

He bites his lip as you settle back into position, “Lean forward this time love, yeah?” He whispers, his voice thick.

You shift, putting your hands either side of his head and he groans approvingly as your pussy rests against his cock. 

“Can you keep your balance on one hand?” He asks. 

You nod again, your mind thick with a hazy lust. “I think so.” 

“Okay, good, so that and pull on my collar with your other hand, yeah?” 

You take hold of the loop softly, tugging just enough for him to whine. 

“Oh fuck, god, yeah, just like that.” He moans long and hard as you start to rub your slit against him, up and down, your slick leaking out and mixing with the lube. 

“Pussy feels so good,” he chokes out, “always so sweet and dripping and just ready for me.” He whines, rocking his body against you and gasping when you moan loudly. 

You pick up your pace, your muscles tensing under the strain of your rapid movements.

“Gonna come love? Gonna come from fucking yourself on my cock?” He wriggles underneath you, his voice thick as you give the collar another harsh tug that goes straight to his dick and makes his balls draw up. “Oh love,” he whines, “gonna make me come, gonna make such a mess and, and,” he hiccups, trying to keep a hold of himself but the glide of your against him is too much. And when your spine bends, letting out a deep moan of pleasure he sobs and shoots his load all over both of your stomachs, his mind whiting out.

You gasp, muscles twitching as you come hard, the euphoria exploding along your skin and momentarily paralysing you in place. 

It takes you a moment to come back to yourself, breathing hard and bucking shallowly, spreading more lube and both of your releases all over your chests and stomachs. 

Steven gives you a sugary sweet smile, blissed out as you sit up, lean back and turn off the vibrations. 

“Mmm, thank you love,” he wriggles a little, biting his lip. “I think, maybe, I could come again.”

“You want to keep playing?” You smile.

He nods eagerly, “Do I want to keep playing? Of course, I do.” 

You giggle and get up, changing your position so that you’re on all fours facing his cock, your pussy by his lips. 

“Make me come again too.” You whisper as you lean forward, take his semi hard cock in your hand and flick your tongue over the tip, swallowing down some of his release. 

Steven whines, gasping before he buries his face into your heat.

Thank you for reading!

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[rubyreduji]

ahegao and arousal — ljh

summary: jihoon just wanted to have a nice night watching anime with you, how was he supposed to know the show he picked was a hentai?

tags: smut (minors dni!) warnings: explicit unprotected sex, hentai, ji is kind of a perv, creampies, spanking, scratching, finger sucking, pinning, multiple orgasms wc: 3.6k an: ANON I SCREAMED WHEN I READ THIS LIKE AHHHH THANK YOU SO MUCH I LOVE YOU i made up my own anime plot for this hehe but watched wotakoi while writing bc office romance

orignal request: woozi and reader are at a sleepover and are both anime geeks but what’s playing is not anime and more hentai

Akira, long time secretary at Hayashi Corp, spends her days doing errands for her boss, Hiroshi, and keeping the office running. The mundane pace of her life is suddenly thrown for a loop when the new data analyst, Kaito, is hired.

That’s what the description of the show Jihoon picked said. It sounded like a cute little work place, slice of life romance anime at the time of Jihoon scrolling through what show to watch with you tonight. Oh how wrong he was.

Last week you hunted Jihoon down and insisted that it has been far too long since you two had a day to spend hanging out just you two, so Jihoon invited you over for an all night anime marathon. It’s no secret that you two are giant anime buffs, and so it was difficult for Jihoon to find something that both of you have yet to see. So when he came across this new anime he thought it was the perfect pick. It had an 8.7 review and tropes that Jihoon knows you enjoy, making it the perfect show to watch with you.

The show started out fine, a bit cliche but overall carrying the same cute aesthetic of all romance animes. Sure there were a few throw away fanservice bits, but Jihoon didn’t think anything of it. Until he did.

Jihoon’s ears burn as he tries to figure out where to look. He can’t look at you, that would just make him even more flustered, but staring at the TV is out of the option. Even as Jihoon stares at the wall, he can’t escape the lewd sounds playing out of the speakers. He can’t exactly tell what the characters are saying due to it being in Japanese, but from the excessive moaning and slick sounds, he can interpret it.

The show was going so well, to the point where the two of you were starting to root for a male lead, and then all of a sudden Akira is being cornered in an empty meeting room by Hiroshi (who is the wrong male lead, by the way) and their clothes are flying off and then Jihoon had to stop watching.

His curiosity gets the best of him though and Jihoon glances at the TV, just to take a quick peak, only to get a full view of an animated cock being slid into an exaggeratingly wet pussy (why is it uncensored!?). She cries out as the subtitles read, “He’s so big!~”. The image changes to the bouncing of Akira’s unnaturally large tits as Hiroshi starts to thrust into her. Above her tits is the image of her face, screwed up into a classic hentai ahegao. 

Now, Jihoon is well…a man, and men have certain urges that need to be taken care of every once in a while, and Jihoon often finds himself looking to certain content to help out those urges. He of course carries shame for it and would never actually admit that he watches hentai (a lot), but it's a fact that’s hard to hide when his body is reacting to the scene the way it normally would if he was watching it alone.

You haven’t spoken a single word since the scene started, and Jihoon just prays to god that you’re not looking at him or his lap.

Now in theory, Jihoon could just turn the TV off but then that would force both of you to face the reality that you have now consumed porn together and Jihoon doesn’t think he can handle that. Just thinking about it makes Jihoon’s dick twitch even harder.

Jihoon takes a shallow breath and finally risks a glance over at you. He’s shocked at the sight. Your bottom lip is placed between your teeth, being chewed up as you stare intently at the screen. Your knees are pulled to your chest and there’s a slight gleam in your eye as you watch the scene. Is it possible that you’re…enjoying this?

Jihoon allows himself to get a better look at you, as it’s clear you’re solely focused on the show. He watches as you take a shaky breath, your thighs squeezing together as well. The sight drives Jihoon just slightly insane, and it doesn’t help you’re in the skimpiest pair of sleep shorts and a tank top, sans a bra. 

You and Jihoon have been friends for a while. You two met coincidentally at an anime convention, You were cosplaying as one of his favorite characters and Jihoon made sure to get your socials. You were interested in his own socials though, noticing the OST covers he uploaded occasionally. When it was revealed you two are from the same area, you two quickly became close. Now, nearly six years later, you’re one of Jihoon’s closest friends.

The only thing is, Jihoon has a fat, massive crush on you. He has for years now. It doesn’t help that the characters you cosplay the most are either some of Jihoon’s favorites or characters who are the biggest victims of fanservice behaviors. One time you cosplayed a character who fell under both categories and that night Jihoon shamefully jerked off to the pictures you sent to him.

And now you’re here, dressed in revealing clothes, sitting on Jihoon’s couch, invested in the porn scene playing on the TV. 

Jihoon eyes travel down from your face to your chest, where your tank top does a poor job of hiding your cleavage. He can see the way your chest swells with each shuddered breath. It’s clear now that you’re very into this, and Jihoon wonders for a brief second how wet your panties are.

Jihoon then quickly chides himself, looking back at the wall and away from you. That’s where his gaze stays until the scene ends. Once the show goes back to being a seemingly innocent romance anime, Jihoon finally allows himself to glance over at you. To his surprise you’re staring back at him.

“I, uh, can’t believe she’d hook up with Hiroshi,” you say, breaking the silence between you two. “Clearly Kaito is the better choice.”

Jihoon coughs, clearing his throat. “Y-yeah. It’s also kinda weird since he’s her boss…”

The conversation fizzles out quickly after that and you and Jihoon go back to watching the TV in awkward silence. Jihoon can still feel the ache in his cock as he watches the characters fumble around each other. 

Jihoon can barely even focus on the show, too busy trying to think about anything that will get his boner to go down. He’s not sure what’s happening on screen when all of a sudden you start squealing.

“Oh my god Jihoon, it's happening!” You launch yourself across the couch to grab at Jihoon’s arm. He’s startled for a moment, his skin burning where your fingers dig into his flesh. He glances at the TV to see Kaito walking Akira back to her home.

You don’t let go of Jihoon as you settle down next to him, your body now pressed up against him rather than across the couch. God Jihoon swears his cock has never been so hard in his life. He’s sure the pillow placed over his lap is anything but subtle.

You’re not looking at Jihoon though, too invested in the conversation the two characters are having. Jihoon glances down at you, only to realize that was a bad choice as he’s now staring straight down your shirt at your cleavage. For a moment Jihoon thinks about how he wouldn’t mind seeing how your boobs bounce while he fucks you.

Jihoon’s still focused on you solely, when you gasp. He glances at you and then the screen to see the two characters posed in a kabedon. It doesn’t take long for the two to start making out and Jihoon can already anticipate what’s going to happen next. Your fingers dig into Jihoon’s arm before you realize what you’re actually doing. You go to pull your hand back, but you stop halfway through, your fingers just barely ghosting Jihoon’s arm.

“We can just skip this scene,” Jihoon finally says, seeing the internal conflict going on in your mind. He moves to reach for the remote but you stop him.

“N-no, it’s okay,” you tell him, in a voice that’s smaller than normal. “U-unless you don’t want to!”

“No, it’s uh, it’s fine,” Jihoon says. You give a slight nod, not moving your hand away.

You and Jihoon quiet down once more, staring at the TV, both of your cheeks warm. On screen Kaito is bending Akira over the counter, his cock pulled out and rubbing against her slit. Jihoon hears the labored breath you take, as your fingers slightly tighten on his arm.

Jihoon flits his eyes to glance at you, noticing the intrigued look back on your face. His fingers twitch on his lap as he stares down at your thighs, pushed together. The lewd sounds of moans and squelches fill the living room and Jihoon is five seconds away from getting up to go relieve himself in his bathroom.

Jihoon knows you. If something goes wrong you’ll both just brush it off and forgive and forget it. Fuck it.

Jihoon reaches out and slides his hand over your thigh. You jump a bit and Jihoon goes to pull back, but you stop him.

“No! You’re uh-, you’re fine.”

Jihoon just nods, trying to pretend like his mind isn’t reeling right now. His thumb brushes over your bare thigh, caressing the skin.

Your thighs are soft and he does his best not to full on grope the fat there. Just touching you like this has Jihoon’s cock leaking desperately in his boxers and he thinks about how good it would feel to touch in other ways as well. The swell of your breasts under his palms, his plump lips against your tender neck, his hard cock nestled inside of you.

Jihoon lets his mind wander too much, and the last image makes him squeeze your thigh hard, causing you to let out a moan.

“Fuck, Jihoon,” you mutter.

“I’m so sorry!” Jihoon shouts, quickly pulling his hand away. You’re quicker though, grabbing his hand and placing it on your upper thigh, his fingers just barely brushing against your crotch. Jihoon’s mouth goes dry.

“F-finish what you started, Ji,” you tell him, your voice thick with lust.

Jihoon gulps and nods. He moves his fingers to press against you harder and you automatically spread your thighs to give him more room. Jihoon can already feel how wet you are and he stifles a groan. You let out broken gasps as Jihoon continues to rub at your clit through your shorts. 

Jihoon can’t take his eyes off you, staring at you the way the swell of your breasts heaves with each breath. Jihoon shifts his position to face you so he can reach out his free hand. It hovers over your chest for a moment before he finally pushes forward, grasping your boob in his palm. Your breath stutters before you release a low moan. Jihoon can feel the clench of your thighs around his hand. 

Your pussy is dripping now, soaking straight through your panties and shorts. Jihoon’s cock is also leaking, begging to be slid into your warm walls. His cock strains against his shorts, like it’s trying to break free from the confines itself.

Jihoon groans and pulls his hands off of you and you whine. You’re not left untouched for too long though as Jihoon hooks his fingers into your waistband and starts to pull your shorts down. You lift your hips to help him out, pulling your top off your body as well. Even though your clothes did little to cover you up, seeing you fully naked drives Jihoon insane.

He stares at your slick pussy and he nearly drops to his knees then, thinking about how heavenly it would be to be in between your thighs, but his dick twitches a little too hard and he knows he has to get inside of you now. Jihoon pushes his shorts down his legs and his cock finally springs free.

“Jihoon please,” you whine and Jihoon groans. He sits back down on the couch and grabs you, pulling you onto his lap. You look pretty, perched on Jihoon’s thick, pale thighs. Your pussy rubs up against his cock and Jihoon can feel your arousal spread across his length, lubing it up.

“S-shit,” Jihoon curses. Your fingers grasp his shoulders tightly, your fingernails just starting to dig in, and the slight sting goes straight to Jihoon’s cock.

“C’mon Hoonie,” you mumble. “Just fuck me.”

That’s all Jihoon needs to properly line himself up and slam right into you. You whine loudly at the feeling as Jihoon slides right into you, your cunt already so need that there’s no resistance. Just as Jihoon expected, your walls are soft and warm as you clench down around him.

Jihoon grasps your waists, slowly guiding you up his length before pulling you back down. Jihoon can see you biting down on your lip as you roll your hips against him. He reaches up and gently pulls your lip out from between your teeth with his thumb. Before Jihoon can tell you he wants to hear your moans, your tongue darts out and licks at the pad of his thumb before you lean down and take his whole thumb into your mouth.

Jihoon’s hips buck up into you as you suck on his thumb, your tongue swirling around it. You look down at him with your sultry eyes and for a moment Jihoon wonders if you’ve wanted him just a long as he’s wanted you.

You gradually speed up your pace until you’re fully fucking yourself on Jihoon’s cock, fast and hard. You pop your mouth off of Jihoon’s thumb, finally letting your moans flow free. To Jihoon, you sound like an angel singing. As you bounce in his lap Jihoon can’t help but stare at your tits as they bounce in front of his face. He realizes that if he stares for too much longer, he’s going to cum too soon.

He leans forward and starts to pepper kissings along your neck and chest. His fingers trail up your torso until they come to your tits. He palms at your chest, hard and mean, desperate to feel you up as much as he can.

Your fingernails dig into Jihoon’s shoulders even harder, slightly dragging up and scratching him. Jihoon would never consider himself a masochist but the pain burns delightfully and suddenly he wants you to tear up his whole back.

“F-fuck, Ji~” you whine. “Your cock feels suh’good.”

Your cunt squeezes Jihoon’s cock, so close to milking him for all that he’s worth. Jihoon doesn’t bother taking his mouth off of you, just humming against your collarbone. Jihoon’s body feels like it’s burning up, the feel of your soft skin pressed against him, your warm cunt wrapped around his aching cock. If he doesn’t cum soon he’s sure that he’ll implode.

Jihoon reaches between your body and snags his finger on your clit, rubbing at the bud rapidly to get you closer to your orgasm. You gasp and whine as your hips get more frantic, breaking your steady pace.

“G-gonna cum,” you say between broken breaths. You lean down and capture Jihoon in a kiss. The feeling of your lips against his is new and Jihoon already can’t get enough of it. Jihoon pushes his tongue between your lips, licking into your mouth to taste you better.

You move your hands up to cup his face, tugging him into you even harder as your body trembles in his grip. Jihoon can feel your walls fluttering around him as you reach your high. That’s all the signal Jihoon needs to let go as well, finally letting himself spill right into your cunt. Your hips soon come to a stop and lift up off of him as your body slumps down onto his.

“You know,” you mumble into his neck, your fingers now playing with the hair on his nape, “I’ve always kind of fantasized about this happening.”

“W-what?” Jihoon asks, his mind already dizzy from his orgasm and now your words aren’t helping.

“You’re hot Ji. Like, I’ve never met an anime nerd as buff as you. You’re also just like…really nice and caring? I don’t know, ever since we met a small part of me has always wanted to fuck you.”

“Shit,” Jihoon groans. “You’re saying that we could have been fucking for years now? Baby I don’t think you know how badly your cosplays turn me on.” 

“You’re gonna turn me on again,” you murmur.

“Good,” Jihoon responds. “Because I still have one more round in me.” Even after cumming, Jihoon’s cock is still hard and he easily flips you around and presses you down against the couch. Your face is now buried in the cushions as Jihoon pulls your hips up to meet his.

“S-shit,” you gasp.

Jihoon pushes his thumb against your folds, rubbing at them for a moment before pulling one to the side. Your cunt is shiny from your arousal and as Jihoon forced your entrance open, some of his cum from earlier starts to spill out. Jihoon is tempted to finger fuck it back into you, but it’s not too much of a loss when he can just give you fresh load.

Jihoon’s tip rubs up against your slit, teasing you. You wiggle your hips slightly, begging for him to put it in. Luckily, Jihoon is just as desperate as you are and pushes his hips forward, his tip easily sliding into you.

You just had Jihoon inside of you and yet the feeling of his cock rubbing up against your walls as you moaning and drooling on the couch cushions.

“So good for me,” Jihoon mutters to himself. “Fuck how do you feel ever better the second time.”

Jihoon’s hips slam into yours, rough and slow, making each stroke intentional. His grip on your hips is tight, making sure you stay in place as he fucks into you.

As much as Jihoon loves staring at your tits bouncing in his face, the view from the back is just as good. He can’t help himself as he lifts his hand up, letting his palm smack against your ass as he brings his hand back down. He watches satisfied as your ass recoils, the fat jiggling deliciously. He repeats this action a few more times until he’s sure your ass is warm and stinging from the hits.

“H-hoonie, faster, please,” you beg. You push your hips back, trying to force Jihoon to pick up his speed.

“You need more, baby?” Jihoon coos teasingly. “Want my cock to pound your little pussy?”

“Yes,” you sob out. “Need you to fuck me hard.”

“Okay baby, your wish is my command.” Like a switch flipped, Jihoon starts to plow into you, the head of his cock ramming into your g-spot with each thrust.

Jihoon slides his hand up your spine, his fingers coming up to cup around the back of your neck, and he pushes down, holding you against the couch. It’s dirty, your ass sticking up in the air as your face is squished against the cushion, but that just gets Jihoon going even more.

“You look so pretty like this,” Jihoon tells you. “Back arched just for me.”

You can’t even respond, just letting out a spew of babbles and moans. Your fingers grip onto the edge of the cushion and Jihoon wonders if it’s second nature for you to dig your nails into something when being fucked. He’ll have to test that another time, your nails raking over his back as he fucks the life out you.

For now he’ll stick to railing you into tomorrow.

“S’close,” you slur. “P-please. Need to cum.”

“Aww, you need to come? Okay baby, cream all over my cock.”

Jihoon continues to abuse your sweet spot with his cock as your body tense under him. Your cunt clenches down tight into a vice grip as you whine high pitched and loud. Jihoon rubs at your hip as you orgasm. It isn’t until you fall spineless to the couch that Jihoon allows himself to fill you up once more. He milks himself dry inside of you, making sure you’re stuffed full. Jihoon knows you’re on birth control (you’ve complained about the change in hormones to him before) but the knowledge that Jihoon pumped you full with two loads still drives him slightly insane.

Jihoon slides out of you and slumps down on the couch as well. You shuffle around so you can cuddle up into his side and press a soft kiss to his jaw.

“This was fun,” you mumble and Jihoon laughs.

“Yeah…we should do it again.”

You grin. “We should.”

Before Jihoon can say anything else, you’re both caught off guard by a loud shout coming from the TV. You both whip your heads back to the screen, it seems in the midst of your own fun you both forgot what started it all.

A smirk crosses your face as you look at Jihoon. “You know, for my next convention maybe I should dress as Akira. I think I have a blazer sitting around in my closet somewhere…”

The thought alone sends Jihoon’s mind reeling. The thought of you dressed up in a tight blazer and short skirt, knowing that the character is from a hentai. He’s not sure he would be able to keep his hands off of you.

“And who knows, maybe you could dress up as Kaito with me.” You send a wink Jihoon’s way and it’s enough to have Jihoon’s dick twitching to life a third time.

Oh yeah. He definitely won’t be able to keep his hands off of you, but something in Jihoon tells him you won’t mind too much.

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[ohforficsake]

Down, Boy

A Margay Universe Drabble

series masterlist / main masterlist

Summary: The boys end up at a dive bar on Frankie's birthday. Snipers are good at pool. Frankie's not gonna be able to wait until they make it home. Can be read as a standalone.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Sniper!OFC Audrey 'Moose' Goddard

Word Count: ~ 1.6K words

Rating: Explicit 18+ / dirty talk, momentary dry humping, jerking off in a dive bar bathroom, mention of oral sex (f receiving), bit of a come fetish (it's these two, they're just like this) / language / drunk!Frankie is the sweetest, filthiest menace with a massive competency kink / Minors DNI

A/N: A little drabble that came up a few months ago but didn't quite fit with the main Margay storyline. Just something fun to tie you over after putting you all through it with Chapter 9.

Divider by @cafekitsune!

Frankie is—

—a bit drunk tonight.

But it’s his birthday.

And he’s always been a happy drunk. 

There’s no falling on the floor. No getting up in other patrons’ faces. Just cheeks ruddy and round from freely-given mirth. 

He’s harmless as a puppy and just as excitable. 

Whooping with cheers whenever anyone sinks a pool ball into a pocket, whether they’re on his team or not.

_____

He had made the trip out to northern California for the occasion, wanting only to spend his day with his daughter.  

But the boys catch wind of his plan and throw in for an Airbnb on the coast for the occasion.

And in the process of planning, Santi and Benny cook up a four-beer deep idea over an empty pizza box to arrange an extra gift.

Aud, what are your thoughts on Fort Bragg? Santi fires off on a text thread between the three of them.

I’m glad that they’re changing that name, guy was a cunt.

Sorry no, California. Benny clarifies. But also, agreed.

Is that not named after the same guy?

Santi sends the house’s address at the same time Benny sends, it is yeah.

Catfish wants to spend his birthday out there with his kid and we couldn’t let him celebrate alone. Pope attempts to steer.

Wondering if you might want to tag along? Last week of June. 

Send me a venmo request for my part of the booking.

_____

Something warm blooms in Audrey’s chest at the sight of Frankie with his friends, quietly strategizing over forest green pool table felt.

He throws his arm around Benny’s neck and thumps Santiago on the back when they win this round, uncaring that he and Will have lost the last three.

“Can you please play this one, this score is embarrassing,” Will leans over on his bar stool with arms crossed against his chest, voice raised just enough so Audrey can hear him over Garth Brooks being played at a decibel below ungodly volume.

“Already told you, if I play, it’s over in one turn,” she takes a swig of beer, “that’s no fun for anyone.”

“Losing isn’t fun either though.”

She studies Will in the haze of neon-red tinged smoke. Audrey’s only known him for three hours, but she likes him already. Enough to grant him this favor.

“Fine.” 

She slips off her bar stool and shimmies her jeans higher up on her hips before shrugging the leather jacket off of her shoulders.

“You playin’, Moose?” Santiago calls with a grin.

“One round,” she holds up a finger, “save these boys some shame,” she finishes as Will hands her a cue. The minute she lifts it off the ground she murmurs “not that one,” and Will swaps her out. 

“There’s no way she’s that good,” Benny quips to Pope as he racks up the balls.

“I—do not have as much confidence as you on that,” Santiago carefully lifts the triangle and slots it back under the table. “You should probably know better, Benjamin.”

“You boys are fucked,” Frankie loops his arms around both of their shoulders as Audrey chalks her cue.

She places the cue ball towards one rail behind the second set of diamonds and glances behind her, gauging the space before leaning down to eye level, bouncing and spinning the cue in her hand to get a feel for its balance before she takes her first shot.

Audrey sinks two balls on the break. 

She quickly assesses the table when they come to a stop. “Stripes, do I need to call the pocket?”

“No need to be a show-off,” Pope quips. 

“Fair enough,” she slips around the far side of the table and sinks the 9-ball in a corner. It lines the cue ball up perfectly and she drops 14 in a center pocket. 

One lap around the table and a glance at the boys to be sure she has clearance before Audrey knocks the cue ball just off its center point, gliding it across felt where it transfers its spin to 15, sending it swirling down the rail into a corner pocket. She slips around to the opposite side of the table, banking the cue ball off the opposite rail and into 13, which slips neatly into the center pocket nearest her. 

“What went in on the break?” Benny calls.

“11 and 2,” Will answers where he’s calmly perched on a barstool against the wall.

She could miss now and he’d still be impressed.

She won’t.

The cue ball is dead center on the table and 10 is sitting a foot short of a corner. Audrey circles the table, chalking her cue as she analyzes angles. The best shot is from the end nearest the three boys but she’ll have to reach for it.

She stands in front of them and murmurs “sorry, boys,” before she hikes one knee up on the side rail and leans down, chest nearly grazing the table. 

Frankie covers Benny and Santi’s eyes from where his arms are still braced on their shoulders. 

His eyes, however, are locked on her ass.

They hear 10 drop in before brushing Frankie’s hands away.

Audrey bounces the cue ball off the edge of 12, popping it into the nearest pocket.

“Oh, that’s done, she’s got it,” Benny murmurs when the white ball comes to a stop directly in line with the corner pocket nearest Will, the 8 ball sitting perfectly in the middle of the shot.

Audrey sinks it and Frankie whoops, clapping both men on the back before rushing around the table to grab Audrey in a bear hug that lifts her up off her feet.

“FUCK yeah, baby!!!” He screams, taking her face in his hands and mashing his mouth against hers.

“Okay, down boy,” she quips with a smile.

“Well played, Moose,” Will holds out his hand for a shake.

“Alright, the rest is on y’all,” she hands the cue off to Will. “I gotta hit the restroom and then I’ll pick up another round.” She makes her way around the table, Benny and Santi congratulate her with claps on the back before she’s off down the hall.

“Hell of a woman you got there, Catfish,” Will chalks his cue.

Frankie answers with the quirk of a brow and a smirk that drips with filth.

One of the patrons recognizes Benny from fight night and it causes a stir. Turns out Will knows him from high school and everyone’s fascinated with what a small world it really is, attention distracted enough to allow Frankie to slip away.

_____

Audrey wrenches the door to the bathroom open and collides with Frankie’s chest.

“Jesus, Francisco.”

He backs her up with his body, kicking the bathroom door closed and latching it as his mouth crashes against hers, twisting his cap around backwards.

“You’re fuckin’ amazing, baby.” He smashes her against the wall with his broad form, craning low to kiss at what skin he can get to under her turtleneck before giving up and sucking on her earlobe. 

“Yeah, well, I guess” she pants as Frankie drops to his knees and grabs at her hips, grinding the bulge in his jeans against her shin as he mouths at her stomach through the fabric of her shirt, “don’t play pool with a sniper.” 

Frankie is fully hard as he ruts against her, pulling clumsily at the button and zipper of her jeans. He inhales against her mound and moans before quickly getting to his feet. 

Harmless as a puppy and just as excitable.

He’ll sniff crotches and hump legs too, apparently.

Audrey grabs his face between her hands in an effort to center him, dipping her tongue into his mouth before Frankie pulls back.

“Fuuuck baby,” he reaches down to squeeze his cock through his jeans, “I’m not gonna make it, baby, I can’t–”

“Frankie–”

“Shhh, gatita, please,” he clamps a hand over her mouth as his forehead thumps hard against hers, “fuck,” he huffs, “I’m gonna. Pull those pretty panties down for me, beautiful. Just a little bit.”

Audrey is positively dying to see where this goes. 

She slips her jeans and thong down her thighs, eyes locked on Frankie’s locked on black lace.

“Right there. That’s my pretty girl. Yeahh,” he shifts around to free himself from his jeans and she moans into his palm where he slides the hot, hard length of him against her center.

Frankie indulges for a moment, slipping his cock against the smooth wet of her lips.

“Shit,” he hisses before gripping himself in his fist, brown eyes searching green for permission.

And having it, he starts to pump his cock.

It takes him less than a minute before thick ropes of semen spurt into the gusset of her panties as he groans against the back of his hand where it’s still clamped over her mouth.

“Gatita?” He lets go on a ragged gasp once his hips have stilled and he’s worked himself through.

She puffs an acknowledging breath against his palm. 

“I’m gonna make it up to you, I swear,” he lets his hand drop but keeps his forehead pressed against hers. 

Frankie’s fingers move down to hook in the waistband of her lace thong before he slips it, warm and sticky and reeking of his spend back up into place.

“Keep that for me?” He slips his tongue in her mouth, fastening the button on her jeans and dragging the zipper closed. “I’m gonna come back for it.”

He presses a final, wet kiss to her lips, warm palm resting briefly on her cheek before he slips out of the door.

He leaves her frayed with want. Panting through burning lips as her head thumps back against the wall.

Sometimes she wonders if Frankie Morales is the filthiest motherfucker alive.

Two hours later when he cleans her cunt with his tongue—cap twisted round backwards on his head, wet panties stuffed into the pocket of his jeans—she realizes he probably is.

He probably is.

And he's hers.

Tagging a few lovely folks who are/might be interested: @tinytinymenace @theshensei @jeewrites @oliveksmoked @for-a-longlongtime

@toomanytookas @missladym1981 @harriedandharassed @76bookworm76 @spookyxsam

@soft-persephone @julesonrecord @legendary-pink-dot

[silvysartfulness]

Chapter 55 - Swords Raised At A Hundred Ghosts of Heaven Has A Road But No One Walks It is up! :D

It's a sad thing to die alone far from home, Xiao Xingchen had told the old villager earlier, because he knew it was.

But unlike the poor old nameless woman laid to rest under that little roadside shrine, he had never been forgotten. Three wraiths ravaged by grief and longing had remained at his side all those long years, never forgetting, never leaving, never letting go. Loving him, even after everything, a love so powerful and overwhelming it still almost felt like too much sometimes.

He wanted to believe that it could be enough, living this new life for them as much as for himself, a second chance to do better, try even harder to get things right this time around. Letting himself love more, not less, love without doubts or shame or restraints – because the most painful and precious lesson he'd learned from his first life was that almost anything could be worthwhile as long as there was also love.

------------------

Early Happy Chinese New Year!

I've made it my soft New Year's resolution to finish Heaven this year - and you can help it happen! All comments, tags, asks and general encouragement is what helps me stay on track and keep writing!

This is the next to last chapter of this arc, then we're hitting the final arc of the story! The writing's slow, but it's happening!

Forgotten what happened previously in Heaven Has A Road? Not to worry, there's a handy guide of brief chapter summaries to help you refresh your memory!

Also, in case you missed it - one reason this chapter took longer than usual is because I participated in the SongXueXiao Exchange again this winter and wrote a brand new 50k canon divergence Yi City time travel/time loop fic with lots of angst, a little humour, some fluff and a tearjerky happy ending! Feel free to check it out here: Under The Wheel

Thank you, everyone who's still here! Your encouragement is everything. I love you guys. 💚

[gerrystamour]

i am thick tar on the inside burning

Rated G | Steddie Week Day 6: True | 1600 Words | Complete

Related to run it back (give me five whole minutes)

[ READ ON AO3 ]

“Y’being mean t’my boyfriend again?” Steve jumped at the sleepy voice mumbling against the back of his neck, shivering as Eddie kissed him there gently. “Wasn’t saying anything,” Steve deflected instead of trying to lie. “Didn’t hafta,” Eddie chuckled, tugging Steve until he rolled over and faced him. “You got all tense when you woke up, then tried to sneak away.” This is my entry for @steddie-week Day 6: True & Misunderstandings Basically, @patchworkgargoyle mentioned possibly added a convo about Steve's negative self-talk into run it back and I felt like a convo at that point would've been more than Steve could handle at the time, but I def wanted to write a convo, especially after seeing the tags of some of my fellow RSD sufferers. So here! A fic with one of the best coping mechanisms I've learned for RSD!

Steve slowly woke up with Eddie spooned up against his back, long arms around him tight. It was so nice that it took Steve’s mind several moments to catch up and remember what happened last night.

“Hey! Don’t talk about my boyfriend like that.”

The memories of Eddie walking in on him like that had embarrassment flooding through Steve, his ears burning with the heat of it. Yeah, Eddie was comforting last night, and yes Eddie was gentle and perfect, but again Steve was the one to be comforted and taken care of. Eddie did all the emotional labour and hadn’t he been through enough ? Couldn’t someone just take care of him for once? After all Eddie overcame, he had to be saddled with a boyfriend who couldn’t even handle one bad day at work?

The thoughts were spiraling, just as they always did when left to his own devices, but he was determined to stop them before Eddie woke up. Normally, he would mutter to himself, shame himself into knocking it off the way his father would. Sometimes, even smack himself a bit to get it to sink the fuck in . But he couldn’t do that with Eddie against him so tightly.

Maybe he could slip away from Eddie, go downstairs to start on breakfast and deal with the swirling thoughts there? It was worth a shot, so Steve carefully tried to sneak out from under Eddie’s arm, only for the man to murmur in his sleep and somehow tighten his arm around Steve.

Steve suppressed a frustrated sigh, closing his eyes and counting backward from one hundred to try to calm himself down. It was something a guidance counselor had once told him to do when he felt his anger or frustration mounting, except Steve struggled with counting backward like that, which often caused more frustration. But it was a different frustration than whatever was bothering him, so it did kind of loop around to being helpful.

“Y’being mean t’my boyfriend again?”

Steve jumped at the sleepy voice mumbling against the back of his neck, shivering as Eddie kissed him there gently.

“Wasn’t saying anything,” Steve deflected instead of trying to lie.

“Didn’t hafta,” Eddie chuckled, tugging Steve until he rolled over and faced him. “You got all tense when you woke up, then tried to sneak away.”

A hot blush overtook Steve’s face as he glanced away. “How long’ve you been awake?” he asked guiltily.

“Been kinda drifting for a couple hours,” Eddie said, reaching up to stroke Steve’s cheek gently. “Do you talk to yourself like that a lot, Stevie?”

Steve refused to look at Eddie as he shrugged. “I mean, I guess. It’s not like I’m saying anything people aren’t already thinking,” he said, his mouth twisting. “Or will think, eventually.”

“If I ever decide you’re the worst boyfriend, you will absolutely hear about it because I will say so,” Eddie said firmly. “Which is not going to even happen anyway , because you’re the furthest thing from a bad boyfriend, let alone the worst . I mean, dragging my half-dead corpse out of Hell is worth like, a billion Best Boyfriend Ever points.”

“That’s not how shit works , Eddie,” Steve said explosively, and when he moved to roll onto his back and Eddie tried to stop him, he said firmly, “Eds, I can’t have this conversation like this. I’m not trying to leave; I just need a bit of space.”

Immediately, Eddie relaxed his arms. “Sorry, Steve,” he said quietly, and guilt swarmed in Steve’s head.

“No, you’re okay, you didn’t do anything wrong, I’m sorry—”

“Don’t do that , Stevie. You need space, you can have it,” Eddie insisted, retreating from Steve a bit, but keeping his hand resting on his waist.

Steve sighed and rolled onto his back, idly playing with Eddie’s fingers where they were now splayed across his stomach. “You can say I have all these points for being a good boyfriend, but the bad shit will always take more points than I can gain,” Steve said, chewing the inside of his cheek.

“That’s—ugh, Steve, the ‘good boyfriend’ points pool is entirely separate from any other pool. You can’t lose those. But I’m done with this metaphor because you’re focusing on the wrong shit,” Eddie said with some frustration and Steve cringed. “Don’t take that like a criticism of you, babe, because it wasn’t.”

“How was that not a criticism of me ?” Steve asked angrily, hurt by Eddie’s words and how it felt as though Eddie was trying to redefine how words worked entirely.

“Okay, listen,” Eddie said, sitting up to look down at Steve and crossing his legs. “I used to say mean shit to myself all the time, still sometimes do, and a lot of times I justify it as me just ‘saying what everyone was thinking,’ too, okay?”

Steve blinked up at Eddie, confused and frowning. “I thought you didn’t care what anyone else thought about you,” he said after a bit, trying to reconcile what he was hearing with the Eddie he had come to know.

“Oh, Stevie, I was full of shit with that whole shtick in high school. I cared very much about what everyone thought back then, I just worked really hard to make it seem like I didn’t,” Eddie confessed with a laugh. “By my third senior year, I was closer to not caring but still. I did. A lot.”

“How do you stop, though?” Steve asked and Eddie sighed, shrugging.

“I just think about what the person actually said,” he said, and Steve rolled his eyes.

“I already do that , Eds,” he huffed, looking away.

“No, you think about what they meant , not what they said ,” Eddie said, turning Steve’s face toward him again with a finger on his chin.

“It’s the same thing,” Steve bit out, again feeling frustration building at Eddie just deciding that words didn’t mean what they meant .

“Okay, I said ‘you’re focusing on the wrong shit’ which I will concede, the swearing was maybe too much, sue me, I swear. How did you take that?” Eddie asked.

“That I’m wrong, that I can’t even pay attention to what you’re saying. That I’m stupid, slow,” Steve said in a rush, forcing himself to hold Eddie’s gaze.

Eddie’s expression turned so sad that Steve regretted saying anything. “Okay, now repeat what I actually said ,” Eddie instructed.

“That I was focusing on the wrong shit,” Steve said flatly, still not seeing the point of the exercise.

“Did I say you were stupid? Or slow?” Eddie asked, and Steve shook his head lightly. “Did I say you were wrong, and that you couldn’t focus on what I was saying?”

Steve opened his mouth to argue that Eddie had said that but when he turned the sentence over in his head, he realized that Eddie hadn’t. Yes, those words were used, but not in the order necessary for Steve’s understanding to be correct.

“I was just stating a fact. I tried to comfort you with a joke and got you caught up in a metaphor. That’s it, baby, it wasn’t me criticizing you,” Eddie said emphatically.

“But most of the time people do mean it like that,” Steve insisted, and Eddie nodded.

“Yeah, probably, but that’s not your problem,” he said with a shrug. “If they’re not going to be up front about it, fuck’em.”

“It’s not that simple, Eds!” Steve insisted, covering his face with both hands.

“Okay, listen, I’ve never had to describe how I shut my brain up when it’s being annoying, so give me a second,” Eddie said with a determined huff. When Steve looked at him again, Eddie was thinking hard and obviously hamming it up a bit, propping his chin on his fist while he hummed.

When Steve laughed lightly, Eddie looked down at him again with a tight-lipped grin.

“Okay, so, when someone says something to me and I immediately start beating myself up about it, I stop and think about the actual words and if I said that to someone I cared about, how would I mean it?” Eddie eventually said.

“I would mean exactly what I said,” Steve supplied, understanding starting to break through.

“Exactly. And every time my brain tries to insist it’s a mind-reader, I just keep repeating the actual words. Ignore the tone, think about the words until the brain stops,” Eddie said, shrugging. “It takes a lot of work, but I call myself stupid a lot less and that’s a bonus.”

Steve blinked up at him, turning the words over in his head. “That’s genius, Eds,” Steve said softly before frowning. “But what about when the people do mean it?”

“Honestly, babe, fuck those people,” Eddie said with a shrug. “You can’t control what they think, so what’s the point making yourself sick over it? And still, unless you’re a mind-reader or they admit to it, you’re still just assuming.”

Steve smiled up at Eddie. “You make that sound so easy,” he said after a minute and Eddie tilted his head.

“Just have more practice working on it. Like I said, I still deal with this shit, and sometimes I still slip up, but it gets easier,” Eddie said, then he sprawled out on top of Steve with a wide grin. “But I promise, right here and now, that I will only ever mean exactly what I say when I say it to you, okay, Stevie? No matter my tone, no matter my face, the words out of my mouth are the full message.”

“Nothing between the lines?” Steve asked, his voice almost a whisper as he stared up at Eddie in awe.

“Why would I do that when I can just as easily say what I mean?” Eddie replied, kissing the tip of Steve’s nose.

“Okay,” Steve said, then took a deep breath. “And I promise I’ll try your way of dealing with this stuff, too.”

“Good,” Eddie said with a happy sound. “Now, gimme a kiss.”

“Your breath is rancid, Eds—”

“So is yours! Gimme kisses!”

“ Fine … Love you.”

“Love you, too, Stevie.”

[AO3 LINK]

I hope you enjoy and please consider reblogging! Taglist! @scarcrossdlvrs, @steddie-there, @indigohightide, @steddieas-shegoes, @steve-harringtits, @mylilplanet, @afewproblems, @xenon-demon, @inairbinad, @matchingbatbites

[just-a-carrot]

Okay so I just realised something about the order of the arcs and which character is the focal point/sorta love interest in each of then(excluding arc 5). The first route isn’t really focused on anyone in particular, but Genzou meets a horrific fate via Orlam(ie nearly boiled alive and left to die alone and in pain). So. Arc 2 focuses mainly on Genzou, Iggy’s deja vu/vague memories of the past loop driving him on a desperate attempt to save him. Only to swap places with him, and have, well, Orlam die. Which then prompts an entire loop of trying to understand and console Orlam because then, maybe then, if he “fixes” the both of them then tragedy can be avoided. And then Arc 3 is the first arc where Gidget dies by HIS hands(if I remember correctly). So. It would then make sense that Arc 4 focuses on them. While also throughout all of this the background realisation of Bucks/everyone being the root of the cause slowly builds up until Arc 5. Idk I feel like I’m rambling and not really making sense but oh well. Im not all that clear on the rest but atleast arcs 1-3 feel intentional in that way? Like at first Iggy realises that okay Genzou’s cruelty and carelessness led him to provoke Orlam into doing that, so maybe if he shows him compassion and becomes something he can care about then maybe that can soften him and his crudeness(and it partially does), but then HE becomes the object of Orlam’s cruelty because, suprise suprise, Orlam’s still a wreck and still hurting and wanting vengeance thus leading to Arc 3 where Iggy attempts to console him too, only to go too far into trying to understand him and falls right beside him into cruel monarchy. Also I secretly think Orlam used Iggy to make Genzou suffer in Arc 2 because he felt truly abandoned by Iggy in that Arc, as hinted by him saying stuff like “you know it’s a shame Iggy I really liked you” or something like that in Arc 1.

Mannn I really am making no sense right now mb enjoy the word vomit i guess

oh this is interesting

tbh i hadn't thought about the order in these terms before. much of the order simply developed because the characters have always weirdly stood in that "standard order" in my head, even whenever i think about them, whenever i tag them in stuff, it's always in that order 🤣

when i first started working on the game (and the first couple of releases too) the idea was that you'd be able to play the "middle arcs" in any order you wanted. the choice screen asking who to call would have all three names and you'd be able to choose whichever order you wanted to go through them in. i guess because in the beginning i had thought they'd be a bit more self-contained and static?? unsure. but starting from work on arc 3 and getting even more intense with work on arc 4, i realized that that just wouldn't work. the narrative only works in this order, like, just the structure of the game in general, the structure of iggy's relationships, and even from a narrative viewpoint, each arc gets more intense and builds more on the previous ones, so it just didn't make sense any more for someone to be able to play arc 4 before playing, say, arc 2. (can you even imagine??? LOL) some of this is probably because of how much the chars and story grew as i was working on them, too. like arc 4 in particular veered on in wild directions different from how i'd first imagined it and with all sorts of new ideas and complicated dynamics getting woven into it based on where i'd taken the earlier arcs

all of this is just to say that it's interesting reading this, as the order of the arcs was both originally Just Because but also then because of the story beats and evolution became Very Important over time, and there are probably many ways that the inter-arc stuff connects to show interesting dynamics that i never even planned for or saw myself

[drivinmeinsane]

Bad Dog

※ Ryan Gosling!Ken x GN!Reader ※

{ masterlist } ※ { ao3 }

※ Summary: You have volunteered to give Ken a lesson in being a good dog. It takes a firm hand to get positive results.

※ Rating: 18+ for explicit mature content.

※ Content/Tags: Petplay, Master/Pet, Mildly Dubious Consent, Pegging, Strap-Ons, Bondage and Discipline, Bondage, Strap Sucking, Ken has glittery cum (glizz), Instances of crack treated seriously, Allan is an innocent bystander, Semi-public sex

※ Word count: 4,274

※ Status: Oneshot/Complete

※ Author's Notes: Happy glizz fest everyone! Be sure to check out the wonderful participatory works by @hollandstrophyhusband, @ken-dom, @uncleclam, @danime25, and @ken-f-cker. A huge thanks goes to @yohohotookabiteofgumgum. This goofy fic would still be rotting in my drafts if she hadn’t helped me cook. 

It’s evening by the time you find yourself at the door of what has now permanently become Ken’s mojo dojo casa house. Barbie hadn’t wanted to keep it, electing to move on with her existence in the real world. Ken hadn’t had the wherewithal to do the same. He remained in this plastic oasis, still coming to terms with being ‘just Ken’. He wasn’t progressing anything that had happened to him. There are still too many patriarchal ideas knocking around in that blond head of his, which is where you come in.

The other Barbies had been nervous about letting you go alone to confront him, but you had reassured them that you would be able to handle the situation just fine. Ken wouldn’t be a problem. He just needed a firm hand. 

You press the large, heart shaped button serving as the doorbell. The chime echoes easily through the open concept home. Almost immediately, you hear the noises of objects being tossed aside as Ken hurries to answer the door. He swings the door open with such energy that you have to take a step back to avoid being hit with the saloon door. He stands in the doorway, arm slung over the plastic.

“Hey.” He squints at you, clearly confused as to why you’re not his ex-girlfriend.

You take in his disheveled appearance. It’s late and Ken has stripped off all the extra accessories that he piles on each time he leaves the house for the day. He’s just in his pants with the lightning bolts down the side. There’s not a watch or headband in sight. He looks softer like this, more authentic.

“Hi, Ken. I’m here to help you,” you tell him before going on the offensive and putting a hand on his bare chest. Despite himself, his eyes flutter closed at your touch and he shudders. Your other hand is occupied with holding onto your overflowing bag.

“H-help me with what?” When he speaks, it sounds as though he’s struggling to form thoughts, much less sentences. You’ve already overwhelmed him and you haven’t even gotten him upstairs yet. 

“Being a better member of Barbieland,” you respond, trailing your hand down his chest before pulling it away. Depriving him. He nearly pitches over forward to chase after the contact. He’s even more needy than you had expected.

He barely collects himself enough to scramble for the macho persona he’s developed to make up for his insecurities. He can’t quite put on the indifferent mask, not when he’s looking at you with such wide eyes. He stands aside though, allowing you to pass by him into the spacious home.

“What do you mean by a… better member?” 

“I’ve heard that you haven’t been a very good Ken lately, a lot of dolls are upset with what you’ve been getting up to.”

He frowns at your chiding words and looks away. There’s shame in the movement and you almost think he might apologize, making the lesson you came here to teach obsolete. The horse decor is so overwhelming that you reach out and gently cup his chin to get him to look at you. He’s a more pleasant sight than the 72’ inch screen of the same horse video looping over and over again. You ignore the tapestry fluttering in the corner over his shoulder. 

The blond doll is trying to put on an indifferent face and failing miserably. “It’s impossible to do anything right. I can’t even get an appliance that has freezer space. ”

Your face softens. “I know. I can help you learn.”

“There’s nothing for me to learn. I learned everything I needed to know in Century City.” He pauses, taking in the hand still under his chin. He straightens up and pulls you into his muscular arms. You fight back surprise as he swings you into a low dip. “For instance, I learned what to do when someone pretty comes to your house in the middle of the night…”

He purses his lips and leans down to plant a kiss on you. You slap him across the face, hard. “Bad dog!”

Ken recoils, nearly dropping you as he reels back. He lets you drag yourself back into an upright position by using his shoulder for support. You shove his clinging arms away. 

“I didn’t give you permission,” you say. Your tone is cold.

His eyes flit away from you. He’s holding onto his cheek with one broad hand. “Men don’t need permission.”

“Ken, you’re going to learn that they do.”

That gets a sarcastic laugh out of him. It’s unbearably obnoxious and part of you wants to strike him across the face again. You manage to hold yourself back by reassuring yourself that he’s about to get what he deserves. 

“Prove it,” he says to you. He’s way too cocky.

He wilts a little under your unimpressed gaze. Even now, Ken is in desperate need of approval. That desire is what had gotten him into trouble in the real world. You suppose the fault doesn’t rest solely upon his shoulders when you consider that he had been treated like a second rate citizen, an accessory , for who knows how long.

You catch him by the arm. He brightens up at the meager contact. He follows willingly as you make the trek to the third floor. The bedroom is equally a decorative disaster to the ground floor, but you’re not here to make too many judgements about his interior design choices. You separate from him to put your bag down on the horse themed bedspread before pulling out the first of the many items you will be using for Ken’s lesson. You turn to face him. He stands slightly off to the side near one of the support pillars. The pose he’s striking seems to be one that’s attempting to portray an aura of confidence, but it doesn’t seem to be working out for him. He seems wrong-footed and uncertain.

“Get on your hands and knees.”

He rolls his eyes at your demand but listens. The innate desire to obey is still in him. Tonight, your job will be to remind him that it exists. You feel like everything is going to plan while you calmly observe him settle in and look up at you expectantly from halfway across the room. 

It’s time to move to the next stage. Thinking quickly, you pull his faux fur coat off the bed and spread it out onto the floor at your feet.  “Come here.”

There’s a long moment where you think his pride will be too much, that he will refuse to listen to you, but he submits to your instruction once again. He does exactly what you meant for him to do. Instead of rising to his feet, he crawls across the floor to you. He pauses once he’s squarely on his coat. There’s a defiant look on his face that tries to inform you that he’s playing along just for now. 

You kneel and fasten the collar that you’ve been holding in your hands around his neck. It fits snugly with just enough room to squeeze a couple fingers in between the bright pink material and his skin. There’s no tag on the collar. He hasn’t yet earned one. While he waits, you quickly pull out another object. After a quick adjustment, it’s ready.

“Take those off,” you order, gesturing to his pants, “and put this on.” you finish, throwing the mess of faux leather straps that you’ve been holding at him.

Ken picks up and turns it over in his broad hands, trying to decipher what it is. You don’t provide assistance. You’ve unclipped the arm restraints and tossed them onto the bed next to the bag. You’ll need them later. Ken isn’t quite at the point where you need that much control over him.

“This looks like something they had at that dance party place,” he mumbles to himself. You struggle to not raise your eyebrows. Just what had he gotten up to while in the real world?

His own words seem to assist him in connecting the dots because he flashes you a smirk. He launches into action. Almost as if he’s thinking this is some macho Century City display, he tries to sensually strip for you. He does an unnecessary amount of flexing and posturing while he pulls off his pants and clumsily tightens the straps around his waist and thighs. Once he’s sure everything is in place, he settles back on all fours. He’s fully naked now aside from the harness he’s wearing. The pink straps of the harness, made complete by the pink bows settled precisely on his asscheeks, are obvious against his tanned skin. He’s waiting rather impatiently for you to make the next move, but something else seems to register in his mind.

“Well? Why am I the only one exposed like this?” He asks, brow furrowed.

“It’s part of your lesson. Remember how you made the Barbies wear demeaning outfits?” You explain, trying to keep the condescension out of your tone. You would not be removing so much as your shoes during the duration of the lesson. He had done nothing to earn an eyeful of your skin. No visuals and no touching. Bad pets don't get the privilege.

He doesn’t respond, mulling over your words. You step onto the coat and offer him a pecan as a treat after pulling it from your pocket. His eyes light up at the sight of one of his favorite snacks and he eagerly takes it right from your hand. Good behavior gets rewarded. You decide to be magnanimous and offer him another scrap of affection. You pet him, running a firm hand over his head and down his back. He shivers at the touch.

“Part of being a good dog is minding your manners. Do you think you’ve been doing that?”

“You’re the one who is supposed to be listening to me, you know.” He’s smug in his wrongness.

That’s enough of a signal to you that the lesson needs to proceed. You slick your fingers liberally with the lube that you pulled from the bag during the time it took him to spew more patriarchal nonsense at you. You move into position behind him, crouching slightly to get better access. He turns to look at you curiously.

“Look straight ahead,” you correct.

He grumbles and you’re sure that he rolls his eyes. “Why?”

“Because I told you to do it. A good dog listens to his owner.”

“That’s not good enough of a reason.” He’s whiny, petulant. 

You grab him by the hair and jerk his head into the position that you want. You’re thoroughly done with hearing him speak. “It’s about all the reason you gave the barbies when you decided to make Kendomland a reality.”

Ken stays silent after your rebuttal. His breathing is uneven, however, and you notice that he’s flushed. The back of his neck is all but glowing in the dim light. You decide that he’s ready. You transition your grip from his hair to his shoulder, hooking your fingers over the firm muscle. He won’t be able to go anywhere without purposely struggling. With your free hand, you nudge your way between his cheeks to circle his tight hole. He jerks at the unexpected touch and you feel him start to tremble in your hold as you slip a lubricated finger into him. You start pumping it inside of him, opening him up enough to introduce a second finger. He instinctively spreads wider for the intrusion. Perhaps he was made to be a different kind of doll.

By the time you’re scissoring your pointer and middle fingers in him to work up enough space for your ring finger, he’s a gasping, shaky mess. You cast a glance to check on his state and find him open mouthed and nearly drooling onto the faux fur coat underneath him, not even bothering to wipe his mouth. He’s trying to rock back against your hand, utterly smitten with the new sensation you’ve introduced him to. Abruptly, you withdraw your fingers. He whines, almost doglike, at the sudden emptiness. 

“Good Ken, good.” He squirms at the praise. “You know that good boys get gifts and I have one to give you right now.”

You produce the butt plug you’ve brought with you and press it against his entrance. It slips in with no resistance, you had fucked him right open with your fingers. He makes a wounded noise and clenches around the new introduction. 

“Oh Mattel! Oh Mattel !” He gasps, his arms are struggling to support him. He’s nearly face down on his coat while he fights to collect himself. 

“Mattel can’t help you here.”

He tries to grab for his achingly hard erection. It has been left completely neglected during this entire lesson so far and it must have him at a breaking point. He can’t be allowed to give himself any relief, however. It would spoil the lesson. You slap him across the ass, avoiding the bow-adorned strap that crosses over the pliant flesh. 

“That hurt,” he whines, the imprint of your hand blooming across his skin.

“Your actions hurt everyone in Barbieland,” you remind him.

“I was just trying to set things right,” he protests. His argument isn’t all that compelling given that he’s on his hands and knees with his asshole firmly plugged.

Letting out a sigh, you move to fully restrain him by putting the leather cuffs you had set aside earlier around his wrists. If he is going to try to touch himself without explicit permission, he needs to be bound. You guide his arms into place behind his back and clip them into place onto his harness. He’s fully restrained and completely at the mercy of whatever you decide to allow him.

Ken is trembling a little on spread knees. His body is curved into an uncomfortable arc while he sits back on his haunches. He’s a marble sculpture come to life, blinking and breathing, on the floor of his unfairly acquired residence. You know the unyielding butt plug must be digging into him in a way that feels pleasurable because his cock is standing at attention, glittery precum beading at the tip of his slit and shining like a diamond in the moonlight. 

You leave him there, vulnerable and pent up, while you go to slip your own harness on. Unlike Ken’s, it’s not meant to restrict movement. You make the final adjustments to the straps and secure the dildo that you will be using for tonight’s session. It’s made of a crystal clear silicone, gradiented from purple to pink. His lips will look pretty wrapped around it. 

Crossing the scant few feet between you and the waiting figure, you come to a stop in front of him. His gaze narrows in on the silicone cock sitting proudly against your clothed pelvis. It’s an easy thing to coax his mouth open. You simply press your thumb to the corner of his lips and he lets his jaw relax and opens up for you. Keeping his head steady with a hand fisted in his hair, you slowly push the dildo past his lips, sliding it over his tongue. You make him stretch forward so that he finds himself struggling to not choke himself on the silicone. You cannot make his lesson too easy, you’d be a bad trainer.

“Suck it,” you tell him, and he does.

His lips seal around the shaft and you’re glad that you can’t feel the inexperienced scrape of his teeth against it. You use your grip on his hair to drag him up and down the length of the dildo. Eventually he gets the hang of the motion and starts enthusiastically sucking you off. Your hand loosens in those blond strands and you merely watch him, letting him take control in this submissive capacity. He has no issues taking the silicone all the way to the base. His gag reflex is nonexistent. You praise Ken with small niceties when he makes a particularly effortful attempt. He receives a ‘good boy’ and a soft scratch of his scalp when he pulls all the way off and licks at the tip while sheepishly making eye contact with you. 

Eventually, you do have to call it quits after he’s thoroughly acquainted himself with the dildo. You don’t want him too worn out before the main part of the training session gets underway. Sliding two fingers against his warm skin and the leather of the collar he’s wearing is enough to hold him in place as you slip out of his mouth. Strings of spit connect the tip of the silicone cock to his mouth. His lips are puffy and his eyes are a little glazed. He’s clearly used, maybe a little cock-drunk. He leans after the strap, nearly face planting onto the fabric underneath him in his eagerness to continue. 

“Easy, Ken. Don’t get too excited.”

“I’m not excited,” he argues, voice rough. His body betrays him. He’s not slumped so far forward that you can’t see the way his erection twitches and shines with sparkling precum. He’s so wet and you haven’t even touched him. 

“Of course not. Down.” 

“Why? Haven’t I had enough?”

“Because your lesson isn’t over,” you explain patiently. 

Ken hesitates, eyeing the coat. He lowers himself, chest first to the floor, hissing as his sensitive nipples receive the barest hint of stimulation. His face is all but rubbing into the faux fur. The position elevates his hips for easy access. You pull the butt plug from him and toss it onto the coat. It’s going to leave another wet spot. You get the dildo ready with lube. The rapidly drying saliva coating it isn’t going to provide enough slickness to penetrate him with. 

He shifts uncomfortably while he waits for you to get prepared to breach him. Much to his obvious relief, he doesn’t have to wait too long before you’re taking his hips in hand and guiding him downwards onto the thick cock. He makes a sound like you’ve stricken him when you finally bottom out, your pelvis flush against his ass. He’s so tense against you that you take some pity on him and rub your thumb in soothing circles on his hip bone. 

“Good dog. You’re taking it so well.”

The praise drags a shudder out of him but he relaxes. He can’t hide under layers of bravado and poorly understood misogyny gained from library books when he’s at your mercy like this. You set up a steady rhythm, punching noises out of him. He’s getting loud, too loud. If he doesn’t shut up he’s going to show the entirety of Barbieland how much of a slut he is. The Barbies were aware that you would be paying Ken a special visit tonight for some training, but you had neglected to inform them of what exactly that training would entail. Ken’s rehabilitation was taking a more intimate hand than they would have presumed and you would like to keep them in the dark about precisely what your method is. You needed to get him quiet. 

Struck by a realization, you abruptly pull out, leaving Ken reeling and empty. You briskly dig the gag you had brought as an emergency measure out of the bag still resting on the bed. You should have known he would be as much of a loudmouth while getting fucked as he is in day to day life. 

“Why did you stop? Are we gonna flip things around now?” He questions with a confused look on his face, sitting up slightly to watch what you’re doing. There’s no disguising the suggestive roll of his words. How he could still think he could end up on top at this point is a mystery. You have given him nothing to indicate that he would be at all dominant tonight.

He follows up his questions with another inquiry upon seeing the pink, silicone bone secured on its leather strap. “What’s that?”

“You’ll see,” you tell him, already trying to get it into position. Ken immediately sees where this is going. He doesn’t take it as easily as he’s taken everything else you’ve thrown at him tonight. He keeps his mouth tightly shut until you work a finger into the corner of it like you had earlier. He relents and allows you to slip the pink bone between his teeth and to buckle the strap around his head. Always desperate to please anyone who takes even a passing interest in him.

You trail a hand down his spine, grab his harness at the hip and guide yourself back into the tight heat of him. You resume thrusting into him like you had never left in the first place. It’s all he can do brace himself as best as he can while you fuck into him. He meets you thrust for thrust, chasing his own pleasure. You wonder if he will end up coming from this, untouched, glittery ropes splattering over his belly and over his coat. It would not surprise you.

Over the muffled and choked off gasps of the doll you’re playing with, you hear a scuffle and a sharp intake of breath. Your eyes scan the dreamhouse before you turn your searching gaze to the street below just to make direct eye contact with a horrified looking Allan. He’s staring comically wide-eyed at the scene unfolding in front of him. He hadn’t been a part of President Barbie’s meeting about tonight, and must have not heard from anyone to stay clear of the dreamhouse cul-de-sac. His face screams that he has seen too much. Mattel, if only he had been able to get out of Barbieland when he had had the chance. 

He opens his mouth like he’s about to speak but thinks better of it, and to your own growing horror, he raises a hand and awkwardly waves to you. You weakly think that there are some occasions when neighborly courtesies can be skipped. To your own dismay, you take one of your own hands off Ken’s hip and wave back to Allan. You both wear matching grimaces. He breaks eye contact with a dazed shake of his head and recedes off into the darkness to do whatever it is he does at night. He must not be part of the Ken huddle if he’s wandering around near the dreamhouses this late. For his part, Ken is utterly oblivious during the exchange, too busy getting lost in forcing himself back onto your strap. 

With a smothered shout, he finally cums, proving you right about falling over the brink completely untouched. He soaks the faux fur below him with an obscene amount of glittery semen. He shudders and clenches around the strap still seated in him. You fuck him through the aftershocks, wringing him dry. You think you can hear him sobbing around the gag from his face down position on the floor.

You slip free of his ass for the final time this evening and take off the strap-on harness in order to toss it onto the floor. It misses the coat. He doesn’t look at you when you kneel down at his side. 

“Ken,” you say, voice soft. He jerks in acknowledgement but doesn’t turn. You reach over and undo the clips for the wrist restraints. He makes no effort to keep his arms from falling to his sides, leaden. You unbuckle the gag, working carefully to avoid snagging his hair in the process. Slipping a hand under his jaw to force his face off the coat, you pull the silicone bone from between his teeth. You tip his head towards you, but he refuses to make eye contact. His face is flushed and wet with tears and saliva. Despite yourself, you feel a small pang of sympathy at his state. It was deserved after the stunt he pulled, but he looks so fucked out and spent.

“Look at me.”

He does, obedient despite everything he’s been through. His blue eyes are teary and red-rimmed. His throat moves like he’s trying to speak but nothing comes out. Poor dog.

You grab hold of his arm, encouraging him to his feet. He stands unsteadily, almost swaying on his feet. While you undo his restraint system, you can’t help but notice that his coat is matted in wet patches. It won’t be coming clean, not with the glitter matting the fur. It’s just as well though, it was a symbol of Ken’s insecurities. You steer him the short distance to the bed after the pink straps of the harness fall at his feet. He sits down heavily on the edge of the mattress. You join him, getting comfortable before you guide him onto his side to let him rest his head on your lap. Remembering Ken’s earlier treat, you pull some pecans out of your pants pocket and offer them to him. He eats them right out of your hand. 

“What did you learn?” You question, petting him while he chews.

“I think I like being a good dog. Will… will you visit again?” His voice falters, meek. He’s back to being the more docile version of himself that he was before the ill-fated trip to the real world, however, now he has enough experience to be more aware of his actions and the actions of others. 

You continue petting him. “I suppose I could come by to pay my dog a visit if he keeps being a good boy.”

[morningstarfirstsin]

Shooting Stars (1/20)

(A/N: Many of my older works don't have proofreading and, well, I'm not a native speaker either. English is not my first language. Therefore, I ask for patience, but I believe you will find some grammatical errors here (and many more in older works).

That said, this text is interactive, giving the reader space to fit into the character, but she has a name and appearance, she is a transmigrant (yes, I know, but its my favorite trope and I almost never find any fics that fall under those terms :<)

There will be spoilers. There will be lore breaking. MC is female as the “real MC”.

I hope you like the fic. I hope it's as fun for everyone as it has been for me, marinating in this idea and finally having the willpower to write again. The tailcoat I was inspired by is this one here, from Alice in Wonderland )

Summary: You lived for them. You died for them. That was the only thing that made sense, the prophecy given to you said. You were sure of it. Live for them, die for them, make them happy. Let them live their lives with the ones they love the most and only so you'll be free to finally leave this looping of suffering.

You gave your heart, your soul, your life and your years. You gave your freedom so they could be free to love. Be free to live. And yet... Why is the story repeating itself?

Why are they coming back to you?!?

Pairing: Sylus | Zayne | Xavier | Rafayel | Caleb x female!reader

Important tags for this whole series: Angst, Fluff, Smut, reader is in denial, Past Lives, Mild Gore, Blood, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Eventual Happy Ending, All love interests fall in love with reader, reader is not MC

Chapters: (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) Read it on AO3

A tired sigh left your lips. As you hugged one of your swords and played with the small rabbit-shaped charm, time seemed to pass slowly, almost imperceptibly. The air felt still and heavy around the palace and as much as you truly wanted to make this story happen as fast as possible, it was basically impossible to rush things any further than they had already been rushed. 

The number of times you sat across from your MC and talked to her, tried to understand why she didn't accept either of Xavier's two marriage proposals, why she seemed to be so resistant to the prince when things should be so much simpler . 

Everything seemed so complex when, in fact, everything was supposed to be so easy and even so, the reason seemed to be invisible to the eyes of your creation. With another tired sigh, your eyes turned toward the tower clock. It was already more than 6 o'clock in the afternoon and the prince would soon leave the meeting he had been summoned to, so it was necessary to be prepared to assume the role of a watchdog once again.

Adjusting the black mask that covered from your nose to your chin, making half of your face unknown to absolutely anyone, you put away your sword  once again and stretched for a moment. Your muscles tensed and then relaxed. 

“Still guarding His Highness?” - A familiar male voice caught your attention. With a gentle smile on his lips, the boy who spoke directly to you was Jeremiah, one of Xavier's other royal guards and one of his best friends. He was adorable, even more so up close like that.

"Yes." - Despite your short answer and the robotic voice expelled by the mask, you held a look full of affection and sympathy for the boy. The process of being as cold and distant as possible was complex, especially in a world where you didn't belong and were desperately alone, but there was a reason for this behavior. 

Soon both Xavier and Jeremiah were preparing to take the long-awaited journey to the past and you would need to play an essential role when that happened. 

“Always monosyllabic. It's a shame you don't engage more than half a dozen words on a lovely day, Zero. I would really like to know a little more about you…” - And dramatically, Jeremiah threw his shoulders up, sighing deeply. - “Well, I'll leave before his highness thinks I'm interfering with your work.” 

And with a wave, the brunette walked in the opposite direction from which he had come, his steps as light as that of an experienced knight should be. 

That brought a thought to your mind. After so many years of training and scars that marred your whole body, you weren't sure how many times you had lived or how old you were in general. You stopped counting after the first two hundred, since in this life alone, you were almost sure you already had surpassed three hundred years old. The only thing you truly knew was why you were here and what your mission was. 

Ironically -or perhaps not-, after reading so many books and comics on this topic, something similar had happened. The weird part was that you didn't remember dying in your last life. Furthermore, some things still seemed to have survived in your memory. For example, here in the world of Love and Deepspace, they didn't speak your native language, no. They spoke what you called “common”, a language you learned as soon as you started speaking.

Another important point was: Your memory of this world began when you cried the first time, on your mother's lap. It had been many, many years. You have literally lived entire lives in completely different timelines. Lives where you were close to Rafayel, Zayne, Sylus and now, Xavier. It was strange to say that you didn't understand or know for sure which of these lives had been the first or whether what was happening at the moment was real or just a memory. But before your brain could get lost in any more wondering about questions you couldn't answer yourself, a noise caught your attention. 

With a click, the door opened, and from inside, some members of the imperial family began to come out. Xavier had been one of the last and, as usual, you started walking behind him without saying a single word. His gaze focused in search of any danger, despite his relaxed posture. 

“Zero…” - The prince called your name for what seemed like the first time in his entire existence. Now you were already away from any area where there were other passersby in the palace, even if you were still moving on your way to Xavier's room.

With a bit of shock, since the prince was usually indifferent and cold towards everyone he didn't consider close, you just nodded, still following behind the blonde, waiting for what he had to say. It seemed ridiculous that a wave was enough, especially when you weren't leading the way, but you knew the prince too well to know that he had seen your nod and, a few seconds later, as you arrived in front of his bedroom door, he invited you inside. 

Shaking your head in a negative manner, you remained outside, expression as neutral as possible, indicating that you would not enter. 

“I need to talk to you about… Well, you know about who. And I would like to do it in a way that I am comfortable with.” - his voice sounded tired, bordering on exhaustion and that was the only thing that convinced you to take a very hesitant step into the prince's room. 

"Thanks." - He said, closing the door and then going to sit on the sofa in the small leisure area that the immense royal bedroom offered. - “I don't know if I could say that you must be wondering a lot of things since… I don't think I even remember what your voice sounds like anymore. But... I'd like to ask you a favor. Certain things are going to happen and… I would like you to protect her. Never leave her side.”

Your gaze fell on the blonde's hands, fingers intertwined, muscles contracting with some anxiety. He was certainly talking about his farewell, his future journey and how he was putting his plans into action for your MC to become queen of Philos. This was one of the moments you were eagerly awaiting. You would finally accomplish something that had never been done before, that timeline would be broken and you would be responsible for it in no time. 

With a rare smile on your lips -even though they were hidden by the mask-, you knelt down in front of Xavier, one hand resting on your knee and the other on the floor. Lowering your head, you dared to speak a few words this time.

“I swear on my life that I will keep her safe as long as I live.” - The robotic voice sounded with a little emotion. Maybe it was the tiredness that had finally spread like cancer through your body and soul. Living so many lives and dying all of them, remembering the loved ones you had all this time, family and friends, as well as the people you loved so much in the 'real world'. All that weight finally felt like it had been dumped on your shoulders once and for all. 

“I…” - Xavier seemed shocked. His eyes widened slightly, but then he smiled gently. It was the first time he had smiled at you and he was as beautiful as every time he had smiled through a screen. - "Thanks." - and with a hand on your shoulder he seemed to have conveyed everything he always wanted to say during the entire time he was in the company of his beloved MC. You knew how important she was to him, but little did the prince himself know of your plans.

With a nod, again, you stood up and left the room, standing guard outside. Even during the early hours of the dawn, there was no tiredness in your system. It felt like your heart was pumping blood faster than ever, an expected state of adrenaline when you only had one chance to make things work. 

∴━━━.✰.━━━∴

Our old tale is found in the annals of Philo’s history. 

Wandering bards sing of it throughout the land. 

For hundreds of years, Philo’s throne sat empty. Now the crownless queen of legends foretold regains her scepter. 

Philos is to be ushered in a new spring. in darkness does one claim a glimmer. The new queen shall bring the dying Philos its real end. 

As she sat on her cold throne, at the bottom of the steps, her Grandis Knight, Xavier stared at her. A queen’s coronation ceremony should be a day of bliss, yet, he chose that day to bid her farewell. 

“Are you not afraid the Backtrackers suspect you betrayed them for a private audience?”  - Your mc asked, her voice shaky. 

“They are aware.” - Xavier sighed and averted his eyes for a second. - “As a knight, it’s my duty to attend to Your Majesty.”  

A moment of silence made the throne room colder than before, quieter than the normal. Your eyes never wandered away, staring directly at Xavier while he spoke to your mc. She was beautiful, so much that it pained you to see this scene repeating again and yet, you’ve spoken no words, in a guarding stance beside your new queen as you promised.

“... Are you truly leaving?” - Her eyes were glassy, full of non-shared tears. 

“The spaceship is ready.” 

“Your trip is one of danger and uncertainty!”

Shaking his head, Xavier didn’t reply right away. If only so that he could extend his own stay, even if just a little, if only to hear her breathe, so that he could just hear her heart beat for the last time.

“Our safety is assured so long as Your Majesty doesn’t call our steel into battle.” 

Your Majesty. He addressed her with a cool indifference. He hadn’t addressed her with her own name for years and now, seeing him stand, she realized it’s been some time since she got  a good look at her Grandis Knight. 

“You’ve already made up your mind. In that case…” - Your MC spoke, rising from her throne and walking down the steps, standing before Xavier. - “I’ll tell the citizens. The Grandis Knight perished in battle. I shall give him the highest honor.” 

He smiled at her. His voice was so ever soft and full of affection, one she couldn’t have noticed for how her heart was broken. 

“Your Majesty has my gratitude.” 

The wind sweeps into the room, the tassel with a star-shaped charm swaying on his sword. Nightfall obscures the tassel and without saying another word, Xavier takes his leave, his steps echoing through the room. 

When you heard the door close completely, you examined every part of that large hall with your eyes. Your MC knelt on the floor and started crying profusely. Sobs of a lost love for a journey that would have no return.

You took a few steps forward, walking down the steps of the throne and standing next to the queen. Placing one hand in front of your face and the other behind, touching a device on the back of your neck, you removed the mask. Something you had never done in front of any of the people who lived in that palace. In fact, the last people who had truly seen your face had long since perished. 

"Your Majesty." - Your voice was low, almost like a whisper in the silent night. A melodic voice that went well with the long pastel pink hair you grew. Your eyes were almost hidden beneath a fringe that urgently asked for a cut, but even so, nothing was a mystery anymore, not for your queen and you had only done that because you knew she would never remember your face. 

“Z-Zero?” - Your MC's voice was still weak and longing, choked. Her eyes widened for a moment as she admired your face, her fingers reaching out and gently brushing against your skin, feeling the softness and plump, pink lips. 

A toothy smile showed your dear mc that she could continue her curious caress while you yourself moved your hand to caress your creation's cheek. It was a strange feeling, it wasn't the feeling of motherhood you get with a child, it was more like seeing something you were a part of, now forging its own path.

“I'm sorry about that. I've seen and rewatched this story so many times and... My return home depends on your happiness... So I'm going to break some rules. I hope you forgive me.” - With a soft kiss on your queen's forehead, you murmured a few words and the world around you seemed to enter a great state of… glitching. 

Your MC didn't even have time to say anything, she was paralyzed like everything else at that moment. The entire world had bent to your will. With a snap of your fingers, you were facing the spaceship that Xavier and Jeremiah would board in a few minutes for the mission back to the past. 

You opened the door and carried your queen inside, laying her gently on one of the beds in the dorm. With another snap of your fingers, her clothes were already organized in the correct compartments and the amount of supplies needed for the trip had been re-established. 

“I hope you live a peaceful and happy life. Give Jeremiah some love for me, I’m sure he’ll be a great gardener.” - You said with a smile on your face and walked out of the machine, letting the door close again. 

Time came to an end and you disappeared into the darkness, just waiting for things to happen according to your will. Xavier and Jeremiah boarded the ship, adjusted the coordinates and left Philos. Using a device that would be similar to a GPS, you followed their departure until their return could no longer be something tangible and only then, with a sigh, did you unpause the rest of the world around you. 

∴━━━.✰.━━━∴

Walking to the Starfall Forest, you entered the forest safely. That would be the last time you would need to do something. Or maybe it was the first. Maybe it was just a memory. It didn't matter the order of any of the timelines, just that you were certain that by completing this final task, you would finally have your freedom returned.

After all, the prophecy, before the countless times you were born -or had been born- was always the same: “Seek for the true happy ending. Allow the chance to love for those who never manage to consummate it.” and there was nothing that made more sense than simply changing the story of each of the characters you loved so much. Yes, these boys never seemed to have a happy ending, with their tragic pasts and broken hearts.

Wide steps made your path shorter and shorter, white pants that outlined your curves and highlighted your rear, black knee-high boots and a blue tailcoat with details in gold threads, made the air of royalty more intense than ever. It was especially sad to know that, despite all the flower details in your hair, your jewelry - however discreet, they were still there and were exuberant to the attentive eyes -, no one would see you that night. Literally dressed to kill. The mask was no longer part of your current uniform. 

Your hair, long enough to reach your waist, was gently swayed by Philos' gentle breeze, as if it were a relief that you had finally arrived on that planet to put a real end to such a monstrous situation. 

Pulling your two swords from their respective sheaths, your next movement was too quick for any creature or wanderer to follow. You were destroying the core of that damned land. Never again would those humans make sacrifices to keep their selfish lives extended.

Your consciousness slowly faded away as your sword destroyed every barrier on the planet’s protocore, trees and creatures being destroyed in a white flash, a merciful way to go, you thought. At least it would be painless, as all the pain on that planet now passed through your veins to the point where you expected to wake up back in your own bed. Back to your world. 

∴━━━.✰.━━━∴

When you opened your eyes again, you were in an alley. Your mask was on the floor as blood fell from your nose and mouth. Several men were on the ground, huddled together and stacked on top of each other.

Blurred vision and a feeling of nausea, you realized you were in a fight. What had happened this time? The world seemed much less technological than on Philos, but your mask... Hearing some footsteps nearby, you tried to get up, supporting yourself with one of your swords as you pulled your mask and fitted it back onto your face. 

Your body was heavy and your arms were making a Herculean effort to maintain support for your swords. You knew you needed to walk faster and you forced your own body to follow as much as possible.

Not that you knew how to go. Or where to go to. But your feet were dragged towards what felt like a familiar place. Entering the automated building, the robot recognized your face, even if it was bruised and swollen behind the mask, granting you access to the elevator. 

You don't remember when your eyes closed, but you felt a warmth, as if something was holding you gently and not letting you fall to the ground. Your consciousness faded. 

At some point, in the midst of a delirious fever, your eyes opened and closed, but everything was spinning and your stomach no longer seemed to want to contain anything inside it. Turning your face to the side, you vomited everything you had previously ingested along with blood. 

You heard some noises of footsteps, more than one person was moving in that environment, someone seemed to curse almost silently while another person gently held your torso and hair. 

“She needs to go to the hospital right now. I can’t treat her here.” - A cold and harsh voice sounded above you. It matched the cold touch of the hands that held you.

“Her arms… Her arms are turning… black. Would this… be necrosis?” - Another voice, less rigid, spoke. Familiar like the first. 

"No. That’s her evol.” - Another male voice. How many men were there in this place? 3? 4? Your head was too dizzy to answer that question. - “Luke and Kieran are heading here, let's take her to the hospital, help me find other clothes to dress her.” 

“I don't think there's time to put other clothes on her right now. As much as I hate the idea of ​​leaving her in this state, let's prioritize getting her back to my car. Let me try to stabilize evol, after all, this heart is hers.”  - Maybe you have been answered. 4 men? But there were two more that were mentioned… were they already here?

When you felt a warm touch on your skin, your eyes opened wide, but you couldn't see anything. A scream left your lips as you writhed in pain and tried your best to get away from whatever they were doing to you. 

“Shit, hold her straight, just a little longer, I’m making her evol regress!!!” - The person who had touched you shouted, a few more pairs of hands came to hold you. Whether it was seconds, minutes, hours or an eternity, you didn't know, but before falling into oblivion once again, all you heard was the voice from the someone who had touched you previously and cried out to be in possession of your heart. - “Shhhh… It’s okay, cutie. You'll be fine…”

© morningstarfirstsin original work | no copying, plagiarizing or translating

[nefertittythegreat]

Hello, I was relieved to see a kind and reasonable reblog as opposed to what I've been exposed of the fandom these past days... You can privately answer this ask or not at all, I'd hate for you to get blocked by mutuals in the fandom LOL (guess who that happened to, whoops?) I wanted to ask you about the Ferdinand fic idea that got you stonewalled?

First, I'm not afraid to be seen interacting with you! You're one of the few people who interact with me directly in the fandom, when I have literally been dying for some sort of aob interaction. I have so much love for you already, though we've only interacted a few times! It will be a shame if my mutuals block me because of this. I understand they probably want to curate their blog to avoid any AoB hate. Sometimes, you just want to keep the good times rolling, and I get that.

It would be a shame since you and me differ in opinions on a lot regarding Aob. If you ingested any of my content, you would know. For one, I'm a fervent Fermyne shipper, and I'm a Ferdinand lover. My blog will always reflect that. I mean, i have a multiple fermyne post on my blog, but at the same time, I'm in the minority(?) that prefer Sylvester over Ferdinand. Funnily enough, when i joined the fandom over 2 years ago, speaking well about Sylvester was almost unheard of. I was still at the beginning of part 3 and couldn't understand, but in part 4, I got it even if I disagreed because he's just a good boy okay? He's trying his best😭😭

Either way, even though I wasn't interacting directly with the fandom, I learned early on that the nail that sticks out will be hammered down in this fandom. And my own interactions outside of tumblr haven't been pleasant. If me a person who falls primarily in the majority regarding my opinions is feeling this then i can only imagine what someone who has interpreted the series in a different way feels and I know I must not be alone in this feeling.

I want this fandom to be a place where we can discuss freely without fear. I want this fandom to feel welcoming. I've been a part of so many fandoms, and too many of them are toxic.

I'm sorry you're getting hate. I haven't seen it in the notes, so I'll assume you're either deleting it or it's in your asks. If so, I am disappointed with us a group. I understand loving something so strongly that you feel attacked, but interacting and analyzing in the way that you do is a form of love as well and has its place in fandom.

I believe we've grown in number here on tumblr over the past two years, and it's time to organize ourselves better to prevent stuff like this from happening in the future and help everyone curate their own experience as we navigate the main tag. To be honest, I'm not even sure if we have an "official" acronym for the series yet(Are we AoB or AoaB?), but I could just be out of the loop. Maybe we should have a tag specifically for discussions and analysis in this fandom?

I'm gonna be tagging this because I feel we as a community need to think on this, and im willing to start that discussion. I just want this fandom to be as welcoming and fun as possible for everyone. We are all never gonna completely agree, but we can have fun together on here like I believe we have been.

[auncyen]

what are your thoughts on loop and siffrin’s hangout in the tree? it always seemed excessively cruel imo, just to prove that sif dying wasn’t the only way to loop. i feel like there were other ways, so i guess i can’t understand completely understand why they would do it.

had loop not pointed out the party dying or had the party managed to beat the king w/o sif, do you think sif would have still looped? Or at the very least managed to make it to the next day?

Anon. are you my loop. afheiohfe LMFAO I'm just. amused by the question because yeah tbh I don't really like the Loop hangout either. I get critical under the cut, so this is only getting a spoilers tag.

I think Siffrin was going to loop then. They probably would have realized what the flash was, or even just realized that the time of day means either the party's made it to the King or things have already ended badly for them, and now they're down a fighter. Siffrin does try to cling to hope at times so I can see him trying to persuade himself that Mirabelle would know the shield, she'd know to shield even if he didn't warn her right??? so maybe they didn't instantly die! but again, they're down a fighter. Even if they win the fight, surely they'd hate him for abandoning them in the final hour. I think he'd give himself a panic attack out of worry and guilt and shame and loop. Loop just hurried it up, probably because they were already hating themself (which, this sure makes it rich for them to try to point out to Siffrin later in act 5 that he's being an ass for saying mean things to the party LOL).

If you want my thoughts. This isn't in the ISAT tag because the hangout is one of the low points of the game for me. It was the "oh, we're just doing shock value now" bit of my first playthrough. I didn't think it made sense then just because how does the party get to the King anyway (even if they can still beat/avoid all the sadnesses without Siffrin and avoid the rock trap/find all the keys because they're like. being more cautious with them gone, they only have a 1/6 chance of correctly choosing the right path on both floors 2 & 3 unless Loop is actively guiding them. Which is an idea I've seen people uncomfortable with, but Loop is purposefully setting them up to die anyway????), and how does Siffrin not realize sooner "hey wait this is going too long what's going to happen to my friends" and panic over that sooner, and nothing in the rest of the game really changed my thoughts on that. Considering Isabeau is right in Loop's potential sight YEAH I FEEL LIKE THEY COULD HAVE COME UP WITH DIFFERENT WAYS OF PROVING IT.

Also iiirc, in my first playthrough I'd already done the Bonnie sidequest of them freaking out at Siffrin and making them loop by this time. I get that the Bonnie sidequest is optional but like. That sure doesn't help with making this hangout feel like cheap shock value.

I think. What I would have liked better. Is if maybe Loop had been trying to do something else and they accidentally established this. Example:

Loop tells Siffrin from the very start they can tell their friends about this and brings the matter up again at act 3 start. Even though it didn't free them from the loops it DID make that one loop better for them when their friends knew something was wrong (they didn't die horribly, for one), so I think they're thinking if Stardust lets everyone in on the full truth, and sooner, maybe they can help somehow!!! Maybe Odile can solve it!!!! 'Why are us two idiots trying to solve this alone!!!' Loop's thinking, and Loop just really, really wants to get out of the loops. So like. imagine a ISAT sus run being a little more similar to a SASASA sus run and Loop specifically baiting them to do that, maybe by suggesting that since they always loop when talking to the Head Housemaiden the loop ends at a certain TIME, this is TIME craft stardust, hurry it up and maybe you'll see something useful besides the roof hm???

What Loop is hoping for: Stardust gets the nice little bit of his family comforting him and getting them to open up a little, they get to hurt themself watching it through them, Stardust realizes 'hey I should talk to my friends' and actually starts telling them about the time loop at the start so they can all work through the information together, they just needed more brain cells on the problem so THEY FIGURE OUT THE GD TIME LOOPS AND LOOP GETS TO BE FREE.

What actually happens: *looks at how the sus run goes in ISAT* also since this is already altering what a sus run requires and how it turns out you could also have Mirabelle on edge and unintentionally taking it out on Siffrin, or Isabeau being horrified if Siffrin finally confesses about the time loops under pressure from Odile and Siffrin assumes Isabeau's disgusted about him hiding this (and not realizing like. Isabeau is actually horrified that his friend's been dying? and trying to handle that alone??? SIF), basically like just make it accidentally turn into a train wreck of a scene for a takeaway of "huh. Siffrin loops back from being upset, too." And then Siffrin is further convinced opening up = always bad and just gets more and more set in I AM NOT BLINDING TELLING THEM.

[andromedaexists]

Seven Snippets, Seven People

tagged by @winterandwords!! Thank you!

1. He expects her to go inside, to leave him wallowing by himself, but he’s shocked out of his thoughts when his door swings open. Benny pulls him towards her, her arms wrapping tight around his head and holding him to her chest as she whispers, “Don’t go where I can’t follow you.”

2. Something feels wrong when Kit wakes up in the tunnel again. Or, at least he thinks he’s in the tunnel. He’s not really sure. The static from last time has grown louder, overwhelmingly so, distorting the already fuzzy image of the inky depths around him. Even the claws, grasping at him desperately, are distorted. He can see them this time, for one. But they’re oddly shaped, bent at angles that feel wrong. Sharp cracks where Kit feels there should be knuckles, harsh edges as they curl and puncture the fabric of his shirt. Something’s wrong. 3. He feels a hand glide across his stomach and he reaches for it, laying his hand over the cold spot where he feels it should be. A gaping pit of yearning opens in his stomach. Yearning for the hand that should be there, yearning for touch that means something, yearning for what he could have been if he had never entered Seminary. Kit’s fingers clench where they sit on his stomach his other hand coming up to harshly wipe away the tears. Shame and guilt run rampant in his mind, an unpleasant mix that makes him want to scream in frustration. Why him? Why couldn’t he let go? Why is everything he touches doomed to distance themselves from him? Why would God want that for his Creation? The phantom touch ghosts it’s way up his side until it’s cupping his cheek, a bitter cold thumb rubbing circles into the meat of his cheek to soothe him. The hand holds him through his sobs, another sliding around his chest to pull him back into a bitingly cold torso.

4. “In my image…” The words reverberate in his mind, coating every inch of his body and chasing the same from his bones. In Their image… Before he knows it, Kit is laying down in bed, clothes be damned as he allows the phantom claws to roam. They never go where he wants, though. They probably can’t, he realized as he struggles to find relief. None comes. Only aching want and desire beyond what Kit can handle.

5. Shame coils deep in his stomach, He’s let everyone down once again, letting himself succumb to the search for pleasure. He knows Isaac will try and say it’s okay, but his upbringing says otherwise and right now Father Milo’s voice is the loudest in his brain, telling him that he gave himself to yet another layer of Sin. Yet another barrier between his eternal soul and Heaven. The thoughts become muffles when Kit feels a cold breath on his next. The static around him grows louder, drowning out the sermon playing on loop in his mind, instead replacing it with blessed nothing. The breath grounds him, brings Kit back to himself. Back to his own confidence as he reminds himself that he can do what he pleases, that he is his own person, not the boy that the church molded.

6. He shakes the thought out of his head, unlocking his phone and quickly finding the group chat with Benny and Isaac. His voice is thick with sleep as he records a voice note, “Mornin’ y’all, I hope youse had a good night I just woke up from a bonkers dream and I’m making it y’all’s problem.” He send that note before starting a second recording. “First off, it’s homophobic that I woke up alone when I distinctly did not go to bed alone. Yes this plays into the dream gimme a second. Secondly…” Kit relays the events of his dream, only pausing to laugh when Benny sends an emoji of a small creature eating popcorn.

7. Kit giggles and kicks his feet as he eats while listening to Benny complain. This is nothing new, it seems like every place Benny transfers to she deals with the same issues; being ostracized for not being ‘perfect’, having to do group tasks by herself, not being able to gain the respect of the long standing orders of the area. It’s nothing new but it still aches to hear. Kit just doesn’t get it, who wouldn’t like Benny? She’s selfless, kind, strong, beautiful, and damn good at what she does. Yeah, he doesn’t get it. But he supposes he doesn’t have to get it, he just has to be here. That is something he can do, he can be an ear for her, a shoulder to vent her frustrations into. As soon as he’s done eating, he sets the bowl on the counter next to him. The clattering sound grabs Benny’s attention and she makes her way over to him to grab the bowl. Only, as soon as she’s close enough, Kit wraps her in his arms and pulls her into a hug. Benny pushes against him, grumbling about putting the dirty dish in the sink and he reluctantly lets her go to do so. She comes right back to him when she’s done, though, and Kit wraps her tight in a hug. His head rests atop hers, his nose buried into the soft curls there as he presses a kiss to her crown. Her hands fist into the think material of his tank for a moment before smoothing out the wrinkles she caused as father Isaac walks into the room. Kit opens his arms to accept the man into his embrace as well, which he briefly accepts before stepping back and greeting the two of them. Benny doesn’t leave his embrace, but turns around and leans back into him as her hands fall to his thighs. Kits arms drape over her shoulders and his chin rests on her head as Father Isaac speaks.

this got longer than i was expecting lmao imma tag: @bebewrites @flowerprose @365runesoftheamalgamations and leave an open tag for anyone else who wants to join in!

[elizaviento]

Green on the Vine — Strawberry Wine (Part 14 of ?)

(Stardew Valley — Shane/Female Farmer/OC)

This chapter is rated NSFW — 4084 words. Blow job and come swallowing amid some wholesomeness. lmfao.

(FYI: Additional chapters of Green on the Vine — Strawberry Wine can be found in the Stardew Valley Fic Masterpost link in my blog description.  Or, you can click the #green on the vine strawberry wine tag in this post, within my blog, to access all additional chapters.)

*****

Shane spent every step back toward the ranch replaying his evening with the farmer, looping specific moments over and over until he was sure they'd imprint on his soul like a fresh brand, raw and searing. 

"I love you."

Had she really said the words, or had his desperate sense of longing manifested them from thin air and embedded each syllable into his ear canal like an intangible specter? It was hard enough to reconcile his unabated self-loathing with the reality of Kristen presenting him with a bouquet. He recalled learning of the saccharine tradition among Pelican Town shortly after he and Jas had moved in with Marnie. He'd scoffed and declared it cheesy, confident that he'd never indulge in such a mortifying display. Even while he planned to purchase one at week's end, he wondered if Kristen would laugh and call him a stupid sap. 

She would never do that. Just because you despise yourself doesn't mean you get to shove those insecurities onto her , he thought as he kicked a rock in his path and watched as it skittered into the tall summer grass. 

It all seemed so surreal in a way that Shane couldn't describe. He wasn't dumb enough to believe that fairy tale romances exist. Hell, every relationship he'd witnessed or been a part of had folded like a house of cards, with the exception of one — Yana and James. If any two people truly loved one another, it was them. Jas was proof of such love, inheriting the best parts of each of them, nurturing their essence even while what remained of their physical bodies merged with the earth, unrecognizable. Ashes to ashes; dust to dust.

Bullshit. They shouldn't have died, and no amount of poetic blather will make it okay. They deserved better. Jas deserves better…

Recognizing the infinite void he threatened to spiral into if he kept dwelling on things he couldn't change, Shane felt the seductive pull of some invisible thread guiding him toward a path etched with his footsteps over the years. The ranch was in sight, and those footprints nearly glowed, leading from the front stoop directly toward the faded oak door of the Stardrop Saloon. How many times had his fingers curled around the iron handle and pulled that door open to the aroma of marinara sauce and melted cheese? How many times had he drowned his traitorous memories under foam that bellowed over the rim of a frosted mug? How many times had he spewed them into a bucket, a toilet, Marnie's kitchen sink, his own bed? 

You're three days completely sober, Shaney boy. You can stretch it to four. You can do whatever you put your mind to.

Her voice echoed within his skull, almost as clear as a bell. Though, Yana had never seen him at his worst. She didn't have the opportunity to find him passed out on lake docks in lonely forests in the middle of the night. She didn't have to witness him guzzling cans upon cans of Joja brand clearance beer while he sloppily played James' favorite first-person shooter alone. And she certainly didn't have the misfortune to find him neglecting her precious daughter in favor of spending nearly every evening at some small town saloon where everyone surely despised him.

Shame burned the tips of his ears as these thoughts plagued him, especially when he realized that he was glad Yana wasn't alive to discover the deadbeat he'd become. It seemed that Kristen had taken up the torch as his designated babysitter, finding him in every one of those situations and more, drunk off his ass or altogether unconscious. And he'd treated her so horribly in the beginning.  

"Who even are you? Fuck off."

"No, I don't care what your name is. Go tell it to someone who gives a shit."

"Why can't you just ignore me like everyone else?"

Anytime her shock of curly auburn hair caught in his peripheral vision, or when the tinkle of her cute giggle wormed its way to his earshot, or when he noticed her dark brown eyes boring a hole through his head as if she could read his every thought, he wanted to scream. She was nice. Too nice. He'd been convinced she'd been put up to befriending him by Marnie, or she had a fucked up savior complex, and he couldn't decide which one was more unappealing.

He wasn't sure exactly when her presence ceased to feel like nails on a chalkboard or the scrapping of a fork across porcelain, but he could acutely pinpoint the night he'd looked her directly in the eye without forcing a scowl. He'd been standing on the edge of the very lake dock his feet found themselves thudding across now, early fall, a crisp chill nipping at his calves while he chased the bottom of his fifth beer can. One remained, and he'd handed it off to the farmer when she saddled herself up beside him without so much as a word in greeting. He supposed she'd grown weary of his insults but somehow still felt compelled to approach him regardless. He supposed he was glad for that.

The booze and his meandering broody thoughts had loosened his lips, confiding things he'd never said aloud to another human being, wondering if she'd look at him in abject horror. It would have been easier that way. Most people, especially those in Pelican Town, didn't like to ponder anything deeper than a mud puddle or a teardrop overflowing a thimble. If the frustratingly adorable farmer had been so shallow, perhaps he might have drank himself into oblivion by now. Instead, she listened — actually listened — and offered nothing more than her companionship, gulping her beer as if it didn't taste like warm piss on a good day.

"A woman after my own heart."

Pathetic. Shane had hated himself the second the cliché phrase tumbled from his mouth and abandoned her shortly after, standing alone in a halo of golden light from the lantern he'd left behind so she wouldn't be stranded in the dark.

He'd dreamt about her for the first time that night. The finer details had slipped from his mind and rolled down the length of his spine in the form of cold sweat by the time he'd stumbled to the bathroom to vomit. Despite telling the farmer that his liver was begging him to stop, he'd done anything but. The bottle of cheap whiskey he'd stashed above his closet door sang to him — a siren with the sweetest lullaby, promising a moonless night devoid of light or conscious thought. He gave in, slipping into the darkness like aching joints into a warm bath. Relief… alongside her freckled face. 

Night had fully fallen by the time Shane returned to the present, standing at the edge of the lake dock, fireflies twinkling over the water, reminding him of childhood and Marnie convincing him they were tiny fairies. Even then, Shane had wondered why fairies would waste their time in the presence of a little boy when they probably had important fairy business to attend to. He was nothing. He was no one. 

Except, maybe he wasn't. The farmer somehow found worth in him, despite all he'd done to discourage it. And, no matter how hard his self-loathing tried to convince him otherwise, she cared about him. She loved him. 

Suddenly feeling light-headed, Shane swayed slightly before stepping back from the edge of the dock, certain that if he looked down, he'd topple headfirst into the lake. 

You didn't say it back. Why didn't you say it back? She said you didn't have to, but you should have. You should have said it back.

"Shit," he hissed while running a trembling hand down his face. Summer evening humidity and sweat from his walk clung to his skin, coating his dry palm. A question formed in the back of his mind, the words swirling like a tornado around him while held captive within its tranquil eye.

Do you love her?

The question had never been posed before, so he'd never explicitly ruminated on the answer, even if its certainty had existed for longer than he’d realized. It had crept up on him, slow and undetected, biding its time while sprinkling pinches of adoration here, a drop of dependence there. Until the day he found her bloody and semi-unconscious in her kitchen, terrified that if he lost her, he'd lose the last piece of him that he considered human. 

Do you love her?

Yes. He did.

❦❧🍓❦❧

"Shane, is that you?" Marnie shouted over the cacophony of upbeat bubblegum pop and Jas' voice singing along to the lyrics at the top of her lungs. 

"Yeah, Marn, it's me!" he yelled, shutting the front door and greeting her with a half-hearted wave. Her frizzy hair was tied up in a high ponytail while she stirred a pot of something steamy on the stove, seemingly unphased by the ear-splitting racket threatening to crack his skull like a ball pein hammer.

"Good! Dinner will be ready in a bit! Go fetch Jas?"

He nodded, unable to muster up the energy to yell back at her when he knew he had to step into the lion's den known as his goddaughter's bedroom. When he saw the door was closed, he winced. How much louder could it possibly be inside ?

When he tapped the dancing little girl on the shoulder to get her attention, wiggling in front of a stereo that used to belong to her father, she launched upward like a rocket, a blood-curdling scream slicing through the music.

"Uncle Shane!" she squealed when she swiveled and caught him laughing, playfully slapping him on the arm while he reached over her to turn the volume down. "You scared me!"

"Uh-huh," he said, folding his arms as he stared down at her. "Yasmeen, how many times have I told you that you'll blow the speakers if you keep turning it up that loud?"

She wrinkled her nose at the use of her real name, knowing that he meant business this time. "Okay. I'm sorry," she mumbled, fiddling with the hem of her dress. "I won't do it again. Promise."

"You'll also damage your hearing, just like —" He cut himself off, biting his tongue before the remainder of the thought could be vocalized. 

"Just like what?" she asked, her large doe-like eyes staring up at him, brimming with curiosity. 

Unsure what compelled him, he placed a hand on top of her hand and continued. "Just like your mom, kiddo. She used to listen to music so loud her ears would ring. Drove your dad nuts."

"Oh," she replied, her face drooping so suddenly that Shane mentally cursed himself for being such an idiot. But she surprised him, as she often did, by reaching up to remove his hand from her head and clasp it in hers, tiny in comparison. "Will you tell me about the music she liked sometime?

"Yeah, I will." Rapidly blinking his eyes to keep the traitorous tears at bay, he scooped her up and carried her to the kitchen.

Dinner consisted of Marnie's famous spaghetti and meatballs, Jas' favorite, and the usual conversation. Shane was content to listen, mainly when Jas spoke about school and the things she'd learned that day, occasionally challenging her with questions. But the thinly veiled glances from Marnie in his direction indicated she had several questions of her own that he would be obliged to answer. Luckily, she'd kept her lips buttoned until Shane led Jas to bed for the night.

"Uncle Shane," Jas began as she snuggled under the covers and clutched her favorite teddy bear under her arm, "Aunt Marnie said you were at Miss Krissy's farm today."

"Did she?" he asked, tucking the sheets and blanket under her legs and feet, hoping his face didn't betray his unease. 

"Mmhmm," the little girl confirmed between gaping yawns. "Do you think I can visit the farm sometime? I wanna pet the kitty."

"You have lots of kitties here," Shane said, unsure why the thought of Jas romping around his girlfriend's farm put a sticky lump in his throat. Especially when he'd just agreed to move the both of them in just hours before.

"I know. But none of them are white."

"That's true," he relented, forcing himself to relax. It would be best to get Jas acclimated to the new environment sooner rather than later, right?

"So can I?"

"Yeah, kiddo. I'll tell Kriss you wanna come over soon. But now, you need to sleep," he said, smoothing her hair from her face while another vortex-like yawn overtook her, eyelids fluttering and sealed shut by the time he softly closed the door behind him.

"So —" Marnie spoke as he meandered back into the kitchen, anticipating her probing questions as if he were about to be presented in front of a firing squad. "Lewis told me someone bought a bouquet from Pierre earlier today."

"That's interesting," he replied, skirting past her to pull open the fridge and pluck a can of Joja Cola from the top shelf. Only then did he realize he'd forgotten the damn bouquet at Kristen's, discarded on the tea table by her front door. 

"Indeed, it is. He doesn't know who bought it, though. He was collecting taxes today, and Pierre's weekly sales manifest only shows quantity, which I guess makes sense. Why would he need to keep track of who buys what?" She crossed her arms over her chest, her eyes slashing through him like lasers as she attempted to discern his inscrutable expression. The crack of the soda can as he pulled back the tab caused her to flinch and then roll her eyes.

"Pierre didn't just tell him?" he asked, almost bored as he sipped his soda and sat in one of the kitchen chairs.

"No," she replied, frustration creeping into her tone.

"That's shocking, considering how much everyone loves to shove their noses in other people's business. Guess I had the wrong idea about Pierre."

"Shane." She approached and stood directly beside him, arms still crossed and clearly incredulous by his blase attitude. "Were you really not going to tell me that you bought a bouquet for Krissy? We're family, and I want to be happy for you. Did she say yes?"

He took another deep gulp from the soda can, allowing her to flounder in uncertainty a few seconds longer before finally replying, "I didn't buy it."

"What?" Her face fell so fast it was almost comical, and Shane bit his lip to keep from smiling. "Then who?"

"She did." He wasn't disappointed when his aunt's expression morphed from sullen to confused to cautiously delighted within a second. When she opened her mouth again, he cut her off before she could ask if Kriss had bought the bouquet for someone other than him. "I said yes. Guess I got a girlfriend now."

"Well, what do you know…" Marnie said, her eyes already swimmy and red around the edges. "That girl always did have spunk." Without another word, she grasped her nephew by the shoulders and yanked him up into a rib-crushing hug, pressing her wet cheek into the hollow of his throat. "I am very happy for you, Shane," she mumbled as he awkwardly patted her on the back. He honestly hadn't expected such an emotional reaction and wondered if Marnie had doubts about his ability to function in a stable relationship. If so, he couldn't exactly blame her.

"Uh — thanks," he said when she finally released and leveled him with serious eyes.

"When you tell Jas, be honest. She's too smart for her own good and picks up on everything anyway." The implication of that statement wasn't lost on Shane, and he shifted his eyes to the side, not particularly interested in discussing her weird "secret" relationship with Lewis.

"Yeah, Marn. I know. She's just like her mom."

The slightly uncomfortable conversation wrapped up with Marnie capturing him in another hug before she took a phone call from someone with a familiar male voice. Shane gestured that he was heading to bed, resigned to the fact that everyone in the Valley would be aware of the newest official couple in town by morning.

A text from the farmer lit up his damaged phone screen just as he switched off his bedside lamp, and a thrill shot through his body like a low jolt of electricity.

You left your bouquet here.

With a guilty sigh, he tapped out a reply, the pads of his fingers sliding over the cracks. 

I know. Sorry. You gonna break up with me?

He unconsciously held his breath; a small part of him actually worried she might have a change of heart.

No such luck. You're stuck with me for a while. I put the flowers in water so they won't die. Did you leave it so Marnie wouldn't find out?

He supposed that was a fair question. He wasn't blind to his caginess, and neither was she.

No, babe. I told Marnie. I'll tell Jas soon.

Her reply took longer than usual, and Shane found himself chewing on his thumbnail, waiting.

Good night. I love you.

A breath caught in his lungs as the words popped on screen, slightly warped by the cracks but unmistakable, confirming it hadn't been a one-off fluke.

Good night, pretty baby. See you in the morning.

❦❧🍓❦❧

Shane attempted to keep his breathing even while Kristen's tongue swirled around the head of his dick, her deep chocolate eyes staring up at him, nails digging into the back of his thigh as she anchored it for leverage. Even without the use of her other hand, she bobbed her head effortlessly, hollowing her cheeks for the perfect amount of stabilizing suction, holding him captive in many more ways than one. 

He'd arrived at 5 am and found her waiting for him outside the coop with a cup of coffee so strong it could wake the dead. Considering he hadn't had a drink since Friday, he'd felt surprisingly light on his feet. The usual deep thirst that drenched every cell in his body still made itself known, especially in the quiet moments when he was alone, and his mind wandered and dwelled on intrusive thoughts. ( What if this is all an elaborate prank? She can't really be this into you. She'll change her mind. They always do.) The burn at the back of his throat, the trembling of his hands, the cold sweat that shone on his forehead and pooled in the dip under his nose. But those troublesome symptoms and the aching thirst itself became slightly less prominent when he was with the farmer. Like now, with his cock fully lodged in the warmth of her pretty mouth.

He wasn't exactly sure how he'd ended up with his shorts and boxers around his ankles while leaning against the wall next to the front door. He'd fully intended to only give her one quick kiss after he'd tended to the hens and told her he'd return in the evening. But she was persuasive, and he quickly gave in the second her deft fingers pulled down the zipper and smuggled their way inside, whispering that she wanted to make sure he wouldn't forget her while he stocked rows and rows of shelves with imitation food products. The notion was absurd. She was constantly on his mind, lurking around every nook and cranny, having burrowed into the gray matter of his brain like a parasite he would carry for life. 

"Pretty baby…" He threaded his fingers through her unruly hair, curls wrapping around each digit, creating the illusion of crimson waves across his flesh. His stomach was beginning to tighten along with his balls. "Honey, I'm gonna come if…" He trailed off into a deep groan when she shifted below him, grasping the shaft of his cock in her hand to stroke him in time with the movements of her mouth, her tongue trailing slick pleasure in its wake. Of course, her goal was to make him come, and her quickening pace proved that assumption correct. He was dangerously close.

"Do it in my mouth," she demanded in the few seconds she released him to speak. "Come right down my throat."

"Holy fucking shit," he whined, gripping at her scalp as she laved the flat of her tongue from the base of his shaft to the tip, pulling back his foreskin to swirl her tongue again, a maneuver that made him weak in the knees. "Are you sure, babe?" She simply relaxed the back of her throat and nestled her nose in his pubic hair in response.

Never in his life had a woman willingly offered to let him come in her mouth. He'd done it once by accident when he was 18, and the girl gagged before storming out of the back seat of his car with her shirt and bra clutched to her chest. He'd heard of women enjoying such an act during bar crawls with drinking buddies but always chalked it up to male bravado, convinced they were probably making it up to win the latest dick-measuring contest. But now, here he was, a beautiful woman on her knees before him, requesting the very thing he thought was a myth.

"Kristen," he croaked, brushing his fingers across her forehead. "Look at me." Her dark eyes rolled upward to lock with his, even while maintaining a steady rhythm with her hand and mouth, captivating him. "Fuck yeah, you're gonna make me come. You're so beautiful." The praise poured from his lips like sweet wine, effortless. Every minute he spent with her, the less he second-guessed himself. She made him feel powerful and wanted and desired. Like a heady drug that dulled his anxiety while somehow heightening his self-confidence to levels unheard of, and he was quickly becoming irrevocably addicted.

She hummed in appreciation, switching up her technique, taking his cock deeper, nudging the back of her throat in preparation while Shane clutched the curls at the crown of her head. His stomach tightened, and his thighs quivered, forcing him to lean heavily on the wall, hoping his knees wouldn't give out. 

"Shit, babe — are you ready?" His gasps seemed to echo within the darkened living room, even as the first rays of sunlight peeked through the curtains at his left. It suddenly occurred to him that anyone could glace through the crack at the right angle and catch him receiving the blowjob of a fucking lifetime. The somewhat perverse thought helped tip him over the edge, intense pleasure ripping through him on a wave of euphoria that softened his tense muscles, threatening to spill him to the floor while his cock pulsed against the back of his girlfriend's eager throat.

"Mmm," she hummed once she'd swallowed and clumsily wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "Guess I don't need breakfast now."

He weakly snorted in response as he watched her stand and walk toward the kitchen for a glass of water she'd left sitting on the counter.

"I dunno if I'll ever get used to the shit you say," he remarked, pulling up his boxers and shorts. Once his belt was buckled, he slipped his phone from his pocket to check the time. 

"Told you I wouldn't make you late," she said, approaching him with a seductive sway to her hips. When she was close enough, he didn't hesitate to tug her in for a parting kiss, emotion swelling in his chest that he still felt hesitant to speak aloud.

"I won't doubt you again." He was slowly drifting back to earth but didn't feel the usual weight that rode his shoulders like an unwanted phantom, tethered to him since childhood. "Hey, um —" He faltered, uncertain if this was the right time. When she regarded him with a questioning smile, he shouldered on. "Jas wants to come over. You think Saturday is a good day?"

"Yeah, that's perfect!"

Her enthusiasm — how her face instantly lit up, causing her eyes to sparkle in a stray sliver of sunlight — melted the anxiety seizing his lungs, and he exhaled, relieved.

She captured him in another kiss, much more passionate than he'd expected, before shoving him out the front door. Seconds later, he heard her ancient record player roar to life, Frank Sinatra flying him to the moon, even if it was just a Joja Mart.

[rothmorin]

Got tagged by @roboticvenusian for a tag game! Thank you for the tag!

The game is to introduce yourself using one tv show, one movie, one album, and one game. I.. don't consume a lot of media regularly outside of video games so this is gonna be a little wonky, but I'm gonna give it a shot regardless. Will maybe throw in some extras or honorable mentions cause it is hard to narrow each category down to just one. Lessgo!

TV Show - Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood

It's kinda a basic pick, but I can't help that the show is just good. There's also maybe just a touch of nostalgia talking. One of my first anime ever and I love returning to it to rewatch every few years. Super solid story and characters and the themes and philosophy of the show are so compelling. There's a reason almost everyone recommended this as a "starter" anime for such a long time. Honorable mentions to Avatar: The Last Airbender, Lost (yes I know it's ass leave me alone), and The Witcher.

Movie - The Lord of the Rings Trilogy

I know this might be cheating a little but honestly you can't have one without the rest. If I absolutely had to pick one of the three, it'd be Two Towers. And maybe it's the nostalgia talking again, but it feels like they just don't make em like this anymore. Not flawless masterpieces by any means but just incredibly well constructed movies with a compelling plot and good characters. And the amount of artistry that went into the costume designs and the sets is so amazing. Marvel movies could never. It just helps make the trilogy timeless.

Album? - Uhhhh....

I used to listen to music more when I was younger but it was all like.. Christian rock. Then I stopped being religious and switched to almost exclusively listening to video game music. I am doing my best to get back into more contemporary and mainstream music, but I kinda consume it wrong lmao. I kinda just make playlists for my OCs and cherrypick individual songs I randomly find and don't really listen to songs in the context of a full album. As a result I don't really have a favorite album, so here's just two music recommendations I guess. First, the FTL soundtrack is just fantastically vibey and atmospheric and I return to it whenever I just need some ambient sound. And second, I've been getting into the band Good Kid. They have some solid covers and originals and I really like their stuff. It vaguely reminds me of some of the bands I listened to when I was younger but without all the religious stuff

Game - The Legend of Zelda: Majora's Mask

What can I say? It's peak. From the story, to the characters, to the dungeons, to the items, to the atmosphere, to the soundtrack. Absolute peak Zelda. OoT walked so MM could soar. The genius design of the three day cycle has yet to be recaptured by any game I have played since. The constant building pressure as you run out of time, the bountiful side quests, memorizing important item locations and everyone's routines to optimize your loop and subsequent playthroughs. Superb. It's just amazing that this game exists as it does, especially considering its troubled development. It really deserves more love and its a shame that the 3ds remake wasn't as faithful as it should've been. Honorable mentions to Guilty Gear: Strive for reigniting my current passion for fighting games and Pseudoregalia for being the best 3d platformer I have ever played oh my god please go play it.

Thanks for reading through! This was fun. Hopefully you know a bit more about me if you wanted to. And if you didn't want to... how'd you even make it this far?

I am tagging @wooferdill, @zelder-64, @pillcipher, and whomstever else sees this.