#on the forth to be specific‚ which is interesting

[lucis-dove]

𝖲𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗍 𝖽𝖺𝗂𝗌𝗒

𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗍 summary; 𝖸𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖿𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗍'𝗌 𝖺𝖼𝖼𝖾𝗉𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗂𝖼𝗎𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗇𝖺𝗂𝗅𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆. 𝖠𝗇𝖽 𝖱𝗈𝖻𝖻𝗒 𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗌 𝗐𝖾𝖺𝗄 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗄𝗇𝖾𝖾𝗌 𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗌 𝗁𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝗌𝖾𝗍. 𝖡𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗉𝖺𝗌𝗌 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝖺 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗅 𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗇𝖾𝗑𝗍 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾.

pairing: Dr. Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x reader

rating: 𝖤𝗑𝗉𝗅𝗂𝖼𝗂𝗍

chapter no/𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗍: 𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗍

wc; 6.3𝗄

tags/warnings; 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍 (18+, 𝗆𝖽𝗇𝗂), 𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗃𝗈𝖻, 𝗉 𝗂𝗇 𝗏, 𝖾𝖽𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆𝗉𝗂𝖾, 𝖽𝗂𝗋𝗍𝗒 𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗂 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗋𝗈𝖻𝖻𝗒 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝗇𝖺𝗂𝗅 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗄?

Author; @lucis-dove

a/n: 𝗌𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝗒 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗋𝖻𝗎𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗈 @robbyology 𝖿𝗎𝗇 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝗇 𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗅𝖺𝖻, 𝗌𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝖺 𝗀𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗍𝗂𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗌𝗈 𝗀𝗈 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖼𝗄 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗈'𝗌 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗂𝖼𝗂𝗉𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗍. 𝖻𝗍𝗐 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝖼 𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗋𝖾𝗒 𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗎𝗅𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖻𝖼 𝗂 𝗀𝗈𝗍 𝗆𝗒 𝗇𝖺𝗂𝗅𝗌 𝖽𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗂𝖼𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖽𝖺𝗒, 𝗂𝗇 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝖾, 𝗆𝗒𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖨, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝗎𝗒𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗐𝖾𝗅𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗆𝖾

***

The medical field doesn't allow long nails. Nothing that's even remotely close to accidentally poking a hole through the glove. 

Short, clinical, and patient-safe. That's the policy. 

Robby considers it lucky that you never got into medicine because those nails you do every month would never pass the guidelines. Not always long, but certainly exceeding 'no longer than the pad of the finger'. And with the rotation of colours and designs —which are never too out there, but the women in the Pitt always fawn over anyway— they would certainly stand out amongst everyone else's.

Yeah, it's good that you don't work in the same field as Robby. And he is goddamn blessed you don't. 

He's never cared much about makeup or beauty products. But it changed once he started dating you. 

Upon realising you found such joy in pampering yourself, no matter how small or big, he slowly grew curious. 

Robby never could've assumed that you'd light up each time he would ask about something related to makeup. Like the first time he'd been interested in your makeup routine and you'd given him a walkthrough worthy of rivalling the ones he did for new medical students or residents. 

He'd been equally surprised the first time you asked for his opinion on a specific treatment the beauty industry had revolutionised, and which had piqued your interest. Although he'd grown accustomed to engaging in those conversations now, he'd never thoroughly considered —bothered would be a better way to put it— the overlap between medicine and skincare even in non-invasive procedures.

But nothing made you quite as giddy as when you got your nails done. 

The near skip in your step as you arrived before Robby once he came home. The fleeting, but customary, kiss pecked on his lips before your hands were stretched forth. 

You were always eager to show off the newest creation from your nail tech, which you always kept a secret until those moments. It bordered on childish glee, the way your eyes glimmered and you waited for his reaction. Yet he always found a smile forming as he took your hands in his and inspected your nails, your excitement contagious.

And Robby knew that was what would meet him once he stepped through the door this evening.

He could already hear the soft sound of your bare feet despite not calling out that he was home. Neither did he bother as your figure soon emerged from the vaulted doorway leading to the kitchen.

Maybe it was the combination of the smile on your face —telling him how ecstatic you were— and that Robby's curiosity had plagued him throughout the day, that accidentally made him turn his head to look at your hands just as you leaned up to kiss him.

"Hello to you too," you laughed, purposely hiding your hands behind your back when you realised where Robby's focus had strayed. 

Pulling away so his bearded cheek didn't tickle your lips, you looked up at him with an amused tilt of your head.

With his point of interest hidden, Robby's attention returned to your face and gave you a small smile as he leaned down to press a kiss to your lips. "Better?"

"Mhm," you hummed with a satisfied nod. 

He shook his head as he slid the backpack off his shoulder. Apparently, he'd already pocketed his headphones. 

"Holding out on me today, are you?" His eyes flickered down to the hands that you still kept out of his sight and then back.

"I want you to take them in properly."

His brows raised, but so did the edge of his mouth. "That happy with them?" 

You bit your lower lip, nodding eagerly as you rolled on the soles of your feet. It made Robby chuckle as he stepped out of his shoes and put them on the shoe rack.

Once he stood up straight again, he motioned with his hand into the apartment. You only shook your head, which made his head cock questioningly.

"You go ahead, I don't want to risk you taking a peek" 

"You really like these ones, huh?" You only flashed Robby a smile as he passed you and took the lead to the couch.

As he sat down with a groan by the armrest, you folded one foot beneath you and seated yourself in the middle. When Robby rolled his head to look at you expectantly, you finally stretched your hands forth.

Your smile was already widening before his eyes even dropped to your nails. Once he did, his brows were quick to reach his hairline. 

He took your hands in his, so soft and incredibly fucking pretty with the daintily painted daisies in varying numbers on the tip of your nails.

You'd let it slip this morning that you'd try something slightly different. It's summer, after all. Though he'd tried to bribe you to give him a hint, you showed remarkable restraint compared to how easily you usually folded to his low whispers between kisses. And concerning his knowledge, which was linked to the previous sets you'd gotten, his guesses were as good as any.

At first, Robby didn't say anything, his eyes fixed on the design in wonder. Precision is detrimental in any line of medical work. But he knows damn well that even his steady hands couldn't recreate the summery staple the white and yellow flowers were if he tried. 

When he looks back up at your face, he sees you grinning. Understandably so.

"How long were you stuck in that chair for?"

You giggled, momentarily glancing at your nails before your gaze returned to meet his. "It wasn't that bad, barely longer than one and a half hours."

Robby scoffed gently. Not that bad, you said. "And how much did they cost?"

"It doesn't matter," you shrugged happily. 

The state he'd left you in the morning —practically pouting at how your nails were too grown out and, in your own words, gross and needed to be remade— wiped away like you've won the lottery and not spent money.

Robby runs his thumb over your fingers, watching himself do it. As he glances at you, he does so through his brows. "Seriously, baby, it can't have been cheap."

Your brow raised, humming an affirming sound. Then your eyes teasingly narrowed as you leaned a little closer. "The puppy eyes won't work. Nice try, though."

Robby sighs heavily, dropping his and your hands into his lap.

You've had this conversation before. He wants to pay for your nails. You won't let him.

Early on in your relationship, before you moved in with him, Robby would always ask what he should send over to cover the expense of your appointment. Yet you would always scrunch up your nose, kiss him on the cheek, and refer to the poor pay of medical workers, never failing to end the sentence with a wink. He would retaliate that you were thinking about nurses.

'I'm a doctor,' he would say with a brow arched at you. 'Sure,' you would return as you sent him an amused look. 

It didn't matter that you knew Robby earned more than enough that paying for your nail appointment wouldn't cripple his economy. It was, after all, his apartment that you lived in together. He closed the tab if you went out together. He covered the bills. 

You were in charge of groceries only because you could cook better than his decent meals, and you'd negotiated the deal once you grew serious enough to talk economy and moving in. 

Robby had bitten his tongue when you scoffed about what else you could spend your money on if you couldn't at least contribute to the food for the two of you. 'You. Spend your money on yourself' had been damn near close to tumble from his mouth. He knew that a very deadpan look would've passed over your features if he had voiced his thoughts, followed by a remark about 'We don't need more than our age difference for people to think I'm your sugar-baby'. 

Robby would never mention that a part of him swelled with pride over the fact that you never had to opt out of making your nails, or always keep your products stocked, because he covered so many of your shared necessities. But fuck. He really wanted to pay for your monthly manicures as well. 

Not only because some deep, possessive part of him —which he'll never voice and continues to believe he overcame during his thirties— wants to provide for something that makes you so excited. He just likes your nails looking pretty, the colours you pick are always flattering and the designs are lovely.

But so far, he'd been fighting a losing battle.

You were adamant about paying for them yourself, to the point that you started keeping the price of each new set from him. Robby didn't want to push you too much, not after you explained that it was more of a hobby than simply about feeling more attractive. But he would lie if he said he wouldn't agree to literally anything to pay for them once.

"Don't pout." You knew you had brought Robby out of his thoughts when the faraway look in his eyes —the one he could get when he stared at your nails— vanished once he looked at you. "Don't you think they look good?"

You received a look, his brows set low and mouth flattening into a bitter purse. 'The dumbest question I've heard', it represented. 

"You know I love them," he declared, raising your hands to his mouth and pressing a kiss to them. 

You hummed, having to bite your lower lip to hold off your smile as you slipped your hands from his as he lowered them once more. You shifted your hands, spinning them in different poses before you dropped one of them to his thigh and the other straight against his crotch.

"I think she overdid herself this time," you hummed, drowning the low hitch of his breath.

This was the second reason Robby loved it when you did your nails. 

For some unknown reason, you became braver, as if your nail appointments included a shot of confidence straight to the vein. You wanted to touch him, run your fingers over him in one way or another. 

When he'd pointed it out after he noticed the pattern, you explained it, or at least tried to. 

'There's just something... about it.' 'Something?' 'I dunno, I feel girly, I guess? Nothing deep, it's just the contrast.'

Robby had laughed at you, which earned him an exaggerated downturn of your lips, a smack to his chest, and you trying to push off from where you'd lain on top of him. But he'd been quick to cage you with his arms, keeping you in bed.

It wasn't that he didn't understand. He got it. It was just entertaining to hear your perspective on something he also enjoyed very much. And after your conversation, he realised contrast was truly the right word.

Whether you wanted to call it feminine and masculine, or just the overall care you put into your appearance compared to his. Not that Robby didn't take care of himself. Even if you certainly would like to argue against it, as he still hadn't contacted the therapist Jack suggested, or any therapist. It was just that you always were so goddamn pretty and put together while he was more rough around the edges.

Robby reckons it's because he knows you like this just as much as he does —and that it always ends the same way— he'd let himself be goddamned Pavloved into anticipating your touch. Because there was no other reason his cock would harden so quickly beneath your hand knowingly massaging it through his pants as you pretended to admire your feshly made nails. Not at his age.

And fucking Christ, if it didn't get Robby going, watching you appear so innocent as you peered up at him expectantly, waiting for the praise you knew would leave him with a groan.

"Yeah-shit, she did."

"But something is missing, don't you think?" You weren't even looking at your hands anymore, gaze locked with Robby's.

"What?" He gritted out, letting you pet his growing bulge, letting you play this little game.

A smile tugged in the corner of your mouth as you cupped him the best you could through his cargo pants. He groaned at the pressure and the lewd image, you holding his thick outline through his pants.

"That's what's missing?"

"Mhm." You caressed him with even pressure, faux strokes up and down.

You watched Robby's eyes flutter, his neck relaxing against the backrest, never letting his gaze fall from you or your hand, his eyes jumping between the two. That was until you unbuttoned his pants and pulled him out of his boxers.

As your warm hand closed around his shaft, you collected a glob of spit in your mouth, leaning down to easier hit the tip of his cock when you let it drip from your mouth. You caught Robby's drawn-out groan, finding him with his eyes shut once you sat straight.

When your saliva spread across his cock, making your hand glide easier, Robby's head cranes backwards on the soft back of the couch, face turned to the roof. 'Shit,' he let out, the sound gruff and deep. 

You take the opportunity he presents when baring his neck, shuffling closer, enough for your thigh to press against his. His Adam's apple bobs when you lean in to kiss along his throat. Groaning when you flatten your tongue to lick a wide stripe to the line of his beard.

"Fuck, sweetheart, I haven't showered," he grunted, hand falling to your thigh, squeezing.

"I don't care," you whispered against his ear, feeling him twitch in your hand. 

You smile, coily humming against the sensitive skin of his throat. Another moan fills the air, his hips jumping, when you smear the precum beading his tip beneath Robby's sensitive cockhead.

You continue worshipping his neck as you jerk him off. Never lingering too much on any spot, as no marks you leave will be hidden by his scrubs. Which he's still in.

There really wasn't such a thing as good days when you worked in the ER, you knew that. The scale went from as normal as anyone could imagine to an absolute shitsshow. And while you didn't know how Robby's shift was, today didn't seem to be the latter, as your soft, methodical touch was enough to melt away any tension in his broad shoulders. On bad days, that certainly wasn't the case.

Robby's body seemed heavy, fully relaxing into he soft cushions that kept him upright. You loved to see him like this, slack-jawed and enjoying the pleasure you gave him. But you knew something that he would enjoy even more, or at least be able to contend with the steady up-and-down tug of your hand.

"I've thought about something," you nearly purred as you finally leaned away from Robby's neck. You never stop moving your hand as you watch him. "I'll let you pay for my nails, but on one condition."

His eyes open, heavy-lidded but still finding yours. He doesn't verbalise the question present in his gaze, not more than a breathy sound ascending from the vibrating depths of his chest.

You know it's an indirect way of asking about your requirements. But you only continue to jerk him off, smiling sweetly at him.

"Fuck," he curses, but you know he understood he'll have to ask if you would tell him. "What?"

Teeth catch your lower lip, smile curling until the flesh is pulled free. Oh, this will be enjoyable.

"You can pay for my nails if, and only if-" you lean a little loser, enough for his lips to part, anticipating a kiss. "-I can get them in your colour."

"Brown?" Of course, your dear Robby would think you meant his eyes, those pretty brown ones you always compliment him about until he averts his gaze with a pink hue on his cheeks.

"M'no," you hum amusedly. His brows knit together. "I'm talking about this pretty colour."

The colour rises up his throat instantly as his eyes flicker to follow how you pointedly swipe your thumb over the tip of his cock. Knowing Robby is watching, you line up some of your nails against it, letting him imagine the nail polish that would match.

"Holy fucking shit," he hisses. 

"You asked me." While you succeed with the smug tone, Robby fails horrendously to send you a glare through pleasured-lidded eyes and a red face. "And why wouldn't I want it? It's such a pretty, deep, rosy colour-"

"Shut up," he groans, eyes pressed shut as he forces his head into the back of the couch, as if it would swallow him head first.

You giggle at the exasperation in his tone, "If that's a no, then I'll just-" You ease your grip until you let go of him entirely, leaning away.

A throaty, frustrated sound fills the air.

Robby opens his eyes, and you're already there to meet his gaze when his head rolls to face you. Sitting there with a broad smile, you don't help his blush in the slightest. 

"You're unbelievable." The gruff words make your stomach flutter.

"What? Just because I want my boyfriend's hmph-" 

A big hand clamps over your mouth, another one cupping the back of your head, as the creases beside his eyes grow noticeably deeper as he shuts them tightly. Robby smiles that tight-lipped smile, which makes his nose and brows scrunch, as he shakes his head.

"Please don't repeat it." His head tilts sideways as his eyes open, watching you closely. "One near-case of cardiac arrest is enough for a lifetime, no less one evening."

You pout, exaggerating the expression so he sees it despite the palm covering half your face. But you remain silent, which prompts him to drop his hands, one landing on your hip, the other rubbing the side of his face.

Brown eyes observe you, and you arch your brows in return. Robby jerks his head sideways, looking the same way as his hand alls to his thigh.

Once his gaze settled on you again, he shook his head with a sigh. "What should I do with you?"

You cock your head, lips pulling upwards iin the corner as if to silently say 'Do with me?'

"For one, if you hate my suggestion so much, just shut me up," you say while raising your foot that previously rested on the ground to swing your leg across his lap. As you plopped down on his thighs, you continued. "Two? If you don't want to pay that badly, just say no." 

"For one-" Robby is interrupted by a squeal from you as he pushes his leg into your ass, forcing you to rise onto your knees. "-we both know you'll only become louder."

He proves it correct seconds after he said it, a soft moan bubbling deep in your throat as Robby runs his fingers over your panty covered pussy, easily reached due to only being clad in on of his oversized t-shirts.

"Fuck," it's breathy, making him chuckle. 

Robby watches your eyes flutter as he teases you through your underwear, already acting as little to no use besides a thin, wet shield for feeling you bare against him.

"And two-" He bumps your clit and then circless it. The whimper you release as your fingers card through the short hair on his neck makes his head drop and rumble the rest of the words against your throat, "-if that's what it takes to let me pay."

A gentle tug at his roots makes his head rise again, and he finds your beautiful eyes gazing at him widely, as if you didn't expect him to agree. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." 

An excited, high-pitched sound escaped you right before you surged forward and kissed Robby.

A taken-aback grunt vibrated into your mouth before he finally slips his hand from between your legs and to the backside of your thigh.

"You're excited about that," he chuckles against your lips once you part.

"Yeah, saw it was some trend and never thought you'd agree." Your hand, which had found purchase on his chest that was still covered by his zip-up hoodie —and with his scrub top and undershirt peeking out from beneath—played with the metal zipper. 

"Didn't see it coming, but I don't mind."

"Don't like it too much, or I'll ask for weirder stuff."

"Like what?" Robby quickly realises his mistake when your brows jump up and you break into a wicked grin. Swiftly, he leans in to kiss you when your mouth opens, already feeling his ears heat up again. 

"No, no, don't ruin it, just keep kissing," he mumbles against you between hurried presses of his mouth to stop your train of thought.

He succeeds because he never lets you escape, trapping you against his chest by circling his other arm around your waist and chasing after your mouth with his until you start giggling at his endless kisses.

But it's once you melt into the kiss with a content sigh you become aware of his hot length trapped between your bodies. And from there, the air changes, from light and playful to something hot and craving.

Robby slants his mouth over yours, his warm, wet tongue making you shudder, much like the hands venturing to your hips, urging you to grind against him.

It does nothing to stifle the throbbing between your legs, your panties resting cold against your core. But Robby groans at the return of pleasure as your abdomen rubs aganst his cock.

"Don't make me fucking come on my clothes," he breathes, but doesn't stop guiding the rock of you body.

"They're due a wash anyway," you mumble against his lips.

"Could just come inside you instead." Your mouth drops open in surprise, but Robby is quick to swallow the gasp that follows. 

While his mouth occupied yours, Robby slides his hand over your ass and between your legs, hooking his thumb in the material covering your crotch to pull it to the side. With a signal to stop by his hand gripping your hip and a shuffle of him beneath you so his lihgly more slouched on he couch, he notches his weeping tip against your entrance. 

Your breath catches, making Robby pause and lean away to hold your gaze. "Wan't me to-" 

"No, I need you now." Even though you were already wet, that wasn't usually enough to take Robby smoothly. But fuck, you couldn't wait.

You took over the grip he had on himself, running his tip through your folds to collect your wetness. It forced his hands to settle on your sides, where thigh met hip.

"Shit- take it slow," he murmured right as you slowly pressed down on him, feeling his head enter you. 

Slowly, you work yourslf lower on his cock, feeling Robby slide deeper for every other roll of your hips. Your gasps and moans filled the air, accompanied by groans and curses from him.

When you finally settled in his lap, your ass flush against his thighs, Robby's head relaxes. "Fuck," he breathes, feeling your weight on him, how you ocasionally clench as you adjust to his thickness. 

Each time you tighten around him on an inhale, Robby's grip tightens momentarily, fingers digging into the soft parts of your body. However, he doesn't hurry you. Instead, he lets you set the pace, simply taking whatever you give him, moaning equally when you start a gentle rock as when you progress to bouncing up and down on his cock.

"That's it, sweetheart-" his voice is cut off with a deep groan upon your new pace that has the sound of skin slapping fill the living room.

You're almost thrown off your rhythm upon hearing Robby's unabashed moan. But he keeps you steady, all while holding your panties aside so the slick material doesn't get in the way.

As the pressure slowly builds in your lower stomach, your hands settle on his chest for stability, curling into his clothes. As if you've put two resurrection pads on Robby and you're in one of those bad medical movies, his neck suddenly snaps up to face you.

His brown eyes are heavy-lidded and lips partly open, a kind of lazy, drunken smile tugging at the corner of his lips. You gravitate towards his mouth before you know how to keep on bouncing while leaning down and forward, ending up in some half-bounce-arch-of-your-back situation.

But it is so worth it. 

The kiss is not coordinated in the slightest but erotically sloppy in the best way. Pants and moans exhaled into each other's mouths. Tongues leaving wet trails across lips when they slip from their curling embrace with one another. 

What finally breaks you apart is the deep moan that rips from your throat when your clit catches delicously on his hair-dusted abdomen. 

Your mind had abandoned doing two things at once while you kissed Robby, settling you into simply grinding back and forth with his entire girth inside you. Now, you deliberately chase those pleasurable spikes you earned from rocking back and forth and dragging your bundle of nerves across his skin.

The added stimulation, hot and electric, collects into a vibrating ball in your abdomen. It leaves you unable to do anything but watch as Robby decides to take your hand, still curled into his scrub top, and raise it to his mouth to leave soft, fluttering kisses over it. But that's not what makes your breath catch. No. It's when he suddenly slips your index finger into his mouth. 

All while holding your wide-eyed gaze, he licks around your nail, his tongue dragging against the rounded edge, its textured surface catching on the pointed tip.

"O-oh my god," you panted, insides quivering, nails digging into his shoulder. 

Robby moaned at the sting he could feel through his clothes, the bite of your nails having him bucking into you as he let his teeth dig gently into the skin below your PIP joint.

You don't know what about him sucking on your finger was so erotic —maybe the feeling or seeing how much Robby enjoyed it— but you suddenly tipped over the edge. "I-fuck!"

You hadn't been far from coming, the prickling of your skin and curl of your toes signs you were close. But without more than the rhythmic but ocasionall bump of your clit against Robby's pubic bone you'd thought it would take a while longer. Apparently not this time, as you stutter to a stop and fall again against his chest, thighs tightly bracketing his hips as you flutter around him.

Faintly, you feel Robby drop your finger from his mouth, hands gripping your hips as he takes leverage on the floor and thrusts upwards.

A whiny sound rings from the back of the throat, the suddenness of your orgasm barely having ebbed before Robby fucks up into you, prolonging the intense pleasure. But it seemed neither he needed much today, as he soon also stuttered to a stop with a gritty groan, spilling inside you.

Robby's warm cum fills you as his head drops to rest on your shoulder, arms enveloping your body and hugging you close as he pushed you down into his lap, as if stopping you from moving and keep himself as deep inside a possible. But you had no intention to, even if your breathing evened out quicker than his. Instead, you press your face against the side of his throat as your arm loops around his neck, hugging him back.

Despite being fully clothed and the Pittsburgh heat seeping through the smallest cracks to battle the AC, you can't get enough of Robby's warmth. You snuggle closer to him, sighing happily as you kiss the skin below his beard, to the hairline on his neck.

You know Robby has collected himself when he releases a deep sigh, returning your affection by pressing his lips to the place where his forehead previously rested. 

Once you sit back, you're met by soft brown eyes gazing up at you.

When Robby doesn't say anything, you gently push at his chest, trying to get him to look at something else. "Stop, you're going to make me blush."

"Only fair after your stunt." One side of your mouth quirks up as a gentle tap on your behind signals you to lift up. You do as he says and push onto your knees.

With Robby having grown soft, he slips from inside you. His spend slowly follows, some droplets definitely hitting his trousers before he manages to pull your panties in place and slip himself into his boxers.

"Don't think you minded," you hum as Robby's hands curve over your hips, urging you to sit again. "Definitely not concerning our deal."

The corner of his mouth curls upwards. "No, you're right."

Just as you're about to say something —a jibe about whether he remembers what he actually had said yes to— Robby suddenly heaves himself from the couch, hands beneath your thighs, bringing you with him.

"Robby!" Your arms shot around his neck and your feet urgently locked behind his back.

"I'm overdue a shower, and you'll join me since you also ned one now."

You twist your head and stare at his profile. "You don't have to carry me, you must be tired after your shift."

"As if you thought about that earlier," he looks at you once he reaches the bathroom door, leaning his upper body against it all while using his elbow to push down the handle.

"It's tradition", you defend yourself as the door swings open and he enters the bathroom.

"Yeah, it is," he chuckled, letting you down to the floor by sliding your body along his.

***

After your and Robby's deal, not only are you more excited than usual to get your nails done, but you also don't let them grow as long as you would to keep your visits to once a month. 

Shy of three weeks later, you mention to Robby you've booked a new appointment as he lounges on the couch. The look on his face when you told him how much it would cost and he transferred the money to your account was indeed a sight to see. His satisfied, prideful expression made him sit straighter, an easy grin on his face as you kissed him in thanks.

What was even better was to witness how quickly his mouth dropped open and brows rose when you'd sunk to your knees between his sprawled legs. 

The Penguins' game on the TV quickly became background noise as Robby's unwavering stare followed you as you rubbed his thighs, nuzzling and kissing his soft cock through his joggers. But he wasn't soft for long, blood rapidly redirecting south upon your impromptu actions. 

You'd hummed all amusedly that you'd needed a reference for the colour you would get. Robby's cheeks were already dusted red, but had grown a few shades deeper than his flushed tip the second you hooked the elastic band of his pants beneath his cock and took a photo of your hand wrapped around his lenght.

When you showed him the picture, the colour spread down his neck. And bless your handsome, brilliant man, but when he asked, dumbfounded in embarrassment when remembering the other part of your deal, 'You won't show that picture, will you?' you couldn't stop your snort and oncoming laugh as your face fell against his thigh. 

Only then did he seem to snap out of his stupor and grumble a complaint about your teasing. As an apology, you ended what you started by milking him dry with your mouth, his heavy hand on the back of your head, attention all on you despite the Penguins scoring.

When the actual day of the appointment comes around, it's in the middle of July. The weather is typical for this time of year, hot and sunny, feeling warmer as soon as you get away from the water and further into the city.

Like many others dressed in breathable materials and light colours, you choose a flowery dress. It's nothing special, just an everyday piece that falls to your shins and is flowy from the waist down. Still, you're happy you chose it rather than pants and a top, not knowing how Robby could leave this morning dressed in three layers even though the hospital was chilly all year round. 

You reckon you would eat your words the second you reached the Pitt.

While you'd only planned to go to your nail salon, Robby had messaged you a few hours ago, asking if you could drop by with his lunch he'd forgotten in his hurry this morning. Not the coffee, of course, just his food. 

It didn't happen often. However, when it did, Robby would usually ask if you had time to stop by. And as if it were any other day, he asked if you could do it today as well.

You're positive your nail appointment had slipped Robby's mind. But you made no effort to remind him.

That's precisely why you enter the ER with a near skip in your step, waving to the ladies at reception who know you well enough to wave you through the doors without requiring identification.

Like the handful of times you'd been here previously — always on errand to deliver Robby's lunch— there was a steady hum of moving people and equipment. 

You gravitated towards the central hub of desks, where you spotted a familiar blonde.

"Hey Dana!" The charge nurse lifted her head from the iPad, looking around before her eyes found you.

A smile broke her serious expression into something softer as she put down the tablet, moving to meet you by the counter you stepped up to. "What brings you here, kid?"

You put the lunchbag on the counter between you, making Dana chuckle as she realised your visit followed the usual pattern.

"Just wait for him here, he's never stationary for long." You offer her a smile, glancing around the organised chaos of the Pitt.

As you lean your weight on your elbows, nails tapping against the counter, you don't notice how Dana's eyes drop.

"Classy."

Your eyes return to her, following her pointed finger to your hands. When you realise her attention is on your nails, your tongue pushes against the back of your teeth to hinder a smile from spreading. 

"Thank you, made them today."

"You know how to pick your colours."

Your eyes flickered to meet hers again, a smile slowly growing. "Robby helped me pick this time."

"Talking about the devil," Dana hummed, just as you felt a presence stop close behind you. "You look peachy."

Your brows furrowed, turning to look over your shoulder upon the charge nurse's comment. Just as you did, you caught Robby shaking his head, a lowly stated 'They didn't make it' accompanying it. 

His face was flushed, colour dusting his cheeks. With the information you just got, you guessed it was due to trying to resuscitate someone with chest compressions. It was a viable reason. But when Robby's eyes dropped to you, you instantly bit the inside of your cheek.

You knew that look.

"A word?" Robby watched you with a smile, not genuine as it didn't flash teeth, but polite with his brows raised high as if it would make up for it.

You gave Dana a look, who playfully drew a cross across her chest for your sake, knowing Robby well enough to catch his serious tone behind the friendly expression. If she only knew the whole story.

"Have a good one and wish me luck," you waved goodbye to her as she chuckled and gave you a half-wave in return. 

Once you grabbed the lunch bag from the counter, you felt a hand slip around your upper arm, gently steering you along.

"What's up with you?" You asked when Robby came to a halt and faced you in a corridor with close to no people.

His eyes shut tightly. "I know you didn't just come here after getting those done," he gestured blindly towards you.

"You asked me to stop by," you said, jangling the lunchbag you'd brought in front of him. His eyes opened to send you a look, even though he took it from you. "Not my fault that Dana complimented my-"

"No, I heard enough of that conversation, and we're not doing this here."

You only giggled, not fighting him on it, never actually desiring to do anything that could embarrass him at work. But that didn't mean you couldn't tease him a little.

"See you at home tonight." You leaned up to kiss him on the cheek, lowering your voice as you lingered there. "You and that erection of yours."

Robby's head dropped immediately, only to be met by nothing of the sort.

He exhaled heavily, burrowing his hands in the hoodie's pockets, the lunchbag partly shielding his crotch.

Just your general effect on him was definitely enough to give him a boner, but with those goddamn nails that matched his- yeah, the possibility skyrocketed.

"You-" Robby shifted to look at you as he jerked his head sideways. "-go."

"Good luck today." You patted his stomach, smiling up at him as his eyes travelled to your hand, which lingered just a second longer than necessary on his lower abdomen. You could see his imagination run rampant, his jaw working.

"I got eight hours left," he muttered, looking to the roof. By the sounds of it, more to himself than you.

"You'll make it, big guy." The look you receive brushes on exasperated, yet you only smiled sweetly up at him. 

Though Robby rolls his eyes, he nevertheless bends to press a brief kiss to your cheek. "Thank you for the lunch and the inconvenience you caused."

"My pleasure."

"Bet it fucking was." You chuckled and he only sent you an amused glance as you headed in separate directions. 

[falandosozin]

uhhh @not-human-never-human i mean sure? im a little tone deaf so i cant tell if you're saying that in bad faith or you're actually curious but im on vacation and bored and ive answered questions like these a thousand times before both online and offline so it's fine

1. "negating someone's identity when it's clearly false" we are back to my original point here, in which i tell you i know myself and know who i am and you just tell me you know more than me and you know for a fact that im wrong. the differences between transracial and transgender are many, but just to illustrate it: ethnicity is determined by phenotype, meaning, in summary, something in your appearance determined by the genes you inherited. im going to use myself as an example. im biracial, but my skin is lighter than most biracials. that doesn't change the fact that im biracial, because even if my skin is whiter than most, it is still not white, and that's because of my heritage. my skin is the way it is because of what my parents, grandparents and everyone before them looked like. even if i bleached my skin and shaved my hair and got plastic surgery to change every single non white detail about me, it would not change my heritage, it would not change my parents' skin and their parents' before them and so on and so forth. it wouldn't change the racial inequality accumulated across generations in my family, but it would change my appearance. meanwhile, my sex is essentially arbitrary, undetermined by my heritage and completely independent from what my ancestors' sex was. being black or white isn’t simply a matter of internal identification or physical appearance, it is also a matter of how your community and ancestors have been treated by other people, institutions, and governments, historically speaking. denying my ethnicity would, necessarily, erase the historical fight my ancestors had in a way that being a man or a woman wouldn't. my mom is a feminist. it doesn't erase her fight if im not a woman, regardless of whether im a cis or a trans man, because my gender is independent to hers. my mom is biracial. if i wasn't biracial, it'd either mean im not her son, i have some rare biological condition or she married the world's whitest man, which she did not. in summary, race classification tracks intergenerationally inherited inequalities. gender does not.

also the idea that sex is, like race, fundamentally unchangeable, pre-determined and everything but malleable is called gender essentialism and, philosophically speaking, is a dead end. here's some more about it if you're interested, but that's the short answer.

why do you think it's controversial for immigrants to identify with the country they came to? i have genuinely never heard of that before, but im not american, so maybe that's some weird us specific phenomenon.

im certain that the comparison between changing your sex legally and committing a crime was done in bad faith, but still: im talking about autonomy to decide what to do with myself and my own body. im talking about autonomy as in having the right to decide if i want to get my name and sex marker legally changed or not, if i want hrt or not, what pronouns i want to be called: all things that only really impact me, but have been proven to have a positive impact. meanwhile a crime, by definition, would have a negative impact in society as a whole.

what harm does it cause people if my friend chops her dick off and starts going by mary? none. then why shouldn't she have the right to do it if she wants to? that's her own body she's changing, that's her own name she's changing, no one else's. that's the autonomy i mean.

2. true that i didn't have to interact with you in particular, but you also had no need to jump on op's post. op said "stop grouping trans men with women" and you said "but that's feminism trans men ARE women" and im joining the conversation as a trans man going "not really and we don't want to be included in your feminism" and your response is "well no one talked to YOU"? like girl. im replying to what you said on op's post because i agree with op and the post is about trans man and i am a trans man. im perfectly justified in my response seeing as the topic is a demographic im a part of. if you didn't want me interacting, don't talk about me in a public website.

also - nothing wrong with recommending radical feminism. but there's a difference between recommending and imposing. say you were walking down the street and a preacher stops in front of you to tell you jesus loves you no matter what and he'll always love you so you should be forever thankful for him. the person may have good intentions at heart, but it is still, at the very least, inconvenient, is it not? compare that to you passing by a church and there's a preacher by the door and he tells you that if you want to come in and get to know the place you're welcome to, and that jesus saved his life, and if you feel like you need help maybe he'll save yours too. that's recommending. the other is imposing. the other is essentially what you're doing - no matter what trans men tell you, you insist on repeating in public online spaces that feminism is for them regardless, that they're women no matter what they say, and they should join radical feminism because that's the branch of feminism that helped you in particular so surely it'll help everyone. do you understand the analogy? do you see how aggravating this is?

3. funny, i dont feel taken seriously when i tell you i know i am a man and your response is "lol no you're not, you're a trans identified woman and you'll never be a man". of course therapy should be accessible. but the thing is that what you're doing is not pointing out material reality, because my material reality is that i am a man. people see me as a man. i pass as a man. they call me "sir" in airports and clinics. my id says male. you're not pointing out a material reality, you're invoking the past, and that's literally all you're doing. i understand that what defines a woman, for you, is a vagina, and i don't really care about that. i dont care about whether or not you actually believe me to be a man or not. i only care that you respect me regardless. so what if you don't understand why i say im a man when i was born with a vagina? the important part is i am an adult and i recognize myself as a man and i live my life as a man. your understanding is unimportant. it's your basic respect that i want. i simply want people to respect me enough to believe me when i tell them i know myself.

i know what you'll say to this - just saying things doesn't make them true, and that'll lead you to "so WHAT makes you a man, then?" and while i maintain that what makes me a man is unimportant, the important part is that im telling you i am a man, i suppose it's still a fair question. i guess the short answer is i made myself a man. i defined, in my head, what it means to feel as a man and what it means to feel as a woman. everyone's definitions are slightly different, but to me, "man" and "woman" are only labels. they mean nothing about who i am as a person, but they determine how i should be referred as.

what makes me a man is simply the fact that for my entire life i have been uncomfortable with being called a girl or a woman. not with girly things, i dont care about that. i always played with """girl""" toys and """boy""" toys alike, but when it came down to it, i felt bad when people called me "girl", "lady" or even my deadname. parallel to that, i felt good when people "mistook" me for a boy and referred to me as such. so, essentially, i have a disorder that makes me feel genuinely bad if im referred as a woman, but it also makes me feel genuinely good if im referred as a man, and that only has an impact on me and no one else. no one else is impacted by me going by young lady or young man. no one else is impacted by me going by he/him or she/her. it changes nothing to no one else, except for me. it's no skin off anyone's back, but it helps me if they respect my self id. so what's so bad about it?

i am not being neglected by doctors. as ive linked above but i can show you more studies if you'd like: research is very conclusively telling us that trans people have an increase in quality of life if they're allowed to socially and/or medically transition. how is this medical negligence? she's not even getting paid more - my doctor is a part of a program in the state i currently reside in that sets trans people up with endocrinologists for free. she's not gaining anything from helping me other than the personal satisfaction of having helped someone in a way that doctors unanimously decided is the best way to help someone in my condition and, furthermore, it's the treatment that i want and have been dreaming about for years. again, in what optic is this medical neglect?

4. im not a woman because i look around me and i see that women are comfortable being called women. ive never met an actual woman who has reported crying after being referred to by she/her.

i experience gender euphoria when being treated as a man. that means that im happier and able to live a more fulfilling life that way. why are people so against it? literally what's the big fuckin deal

5. whatever helps you sleep at night.

ALSO you cannot say you include trans men in your feminism and in the same breath call them “women who identify as men”.

TRANS MEN ARE NOT WOMEN. YOU CANNOT CLAIM YOU CARE ABOUT THEM AND THEIR WELLBEING WITHOUT ACKNOWLEDGING AND RESPECTING THEIR IDENTITY AND WHO THEY ARE.

[dissolved-g1rl]

Could you maybe write a little thing about Vergil and Reader sharing one brain cell and ending up having Irish twins (a mom has two children who were born 12 months or less apart). Specifically them trying to introduce the new baby (you can pick the gender) to an almost 1 year old Nero. If you want to use that idea.

Please and thank you ☺️

little things

God forbid a man misses his wife. It had been one night, one night where Vergil had been particularly needy had resulted in yet another baby. Nero himself is still a baby, in the middle of his tenth month when you decide to pop. It was a a stressful moment for Vergil, rounding you up alongside your go bag, all while also wrangling Nero and his go bag, good thing he had the foresight to add the other carseat a week prior.

The two of them toddle inside your hospital room, Vergil is grasping Nero’s little hand, helping him walk. He’s got the hang of it pretty well, but Vergil wants to make sure he doesn’t go crazy and unplug anything. “Mommy!” You sit up hearing Nero’s little voice, adjusting the little swaddle in your arms. “Hi my loves.” You say soft and sweet, Nero looks too cute in his “I’m the big brother” shirt, it’s a little cheesy, but you love it. “Hi, doing okay?” Vergil sets Nero on top of the bed, taking off his little velcro sneakers so he doesn’t stomp around on the sheets. “‘M okay, the nurse brought me lunch.” You hum, he dips forward, stealing a kiss, you smile at him. “We ate before we left, lunch time for everyone I guess.” Vergil combs his fingers through Neros hair, he tilts his head back because its funny to look at his dad from upside down. It’s also fun when his dad dips down, rubbing their noses together, he breaks out into a heap of giggles which makes the baby stir.

You lightly rock the baby, and he’s soothed back to sleep, Nero turns his head, almost knocking his head against Vergils. He’s interested in the little mewls of his little brother. Nero pants like a puppy as he cuddles up next you, you can feel his little fingers digging into your arm as he tries to get a glimpse of the baby. “Wanna see your little brother?” You ask softly, unsure if he understands what you mean, he nods, a look of determination crosses his face, and he looks a hell of a lot like Vergil for a few moments. You adjust the baby in your arms, letting Nero have a good peek at his little brothers face. He stands up, leaning on you to look over. “Baby.” He murmurs, like he himself is not also a baby, “Yeah, a baby, your baby brother.” Vergil hums, trying to encourage him into verbalizing. “My baby.” Nero mumbles and you give Vergil a look, you’re a cocktail of postpartum hormones, and it’s just too sweet. Vergil understands and scoops up the baby from your arms, still letting Nero look at his brother’s little sleeping face. He pokes his brother’s face with his grubby little fingers, and luckily the baby doesn’t stir, “Careful Nero.” Vergils reminds, he’s a little on edge, it was less then an hour ago when the boy was smashing his toy cars together. “Can I have a cuddle Nero? Can you cuddle mom?” You ask noticing Vergils nerves, and like the sweetheart he is Nero flops on top of you, his white hair tickling the underside of your jaw. You rub his back, and he sprawls on top of you while Vergil stands to the side rocking the baby back and forth.

“My baby?” Nero asks curiously, you figure it’s his way of figuring out when he’ll get a turn with the baby again.

You laugh softly, kissing his little hand, “‘S dad’s turn right now, then it can be yours again.” You murmur softly, he copies your tone whispering back to you “Dad’s baby.” You laugh and nod.

Vergil smiles at the scene, taking sneaky whiffs of fresh baby smell. It seems like it was so long ago that Nero still had that smell. Two is enough for him, especially with the two babies being so close in age. He’s happy that Nero seems to be so fond of the baby, but no one is gonna replace his first born. It’s obvious with the way you let Nero sprawl out on you, that you think the same as he does.

dividers by @strangergraphics

a/n: fun fact i am an irish twin

[rangarlamamicado]

Insane Deltarune Theory Time,, but hear me out

The Angel (The Player Soul) and The Devil (Device_Friend) are mirrors of one another with the same powers. And a major few reasons to prove this involve Homestuck.(*groans* I know).

Let's go over this:

POINT 1: Possession.

Kris is a seemingly living host who is controlled by an outside force, us. Kris is often described as Zombie-like, implying that Kris cannot survive without the soul for too long. We are a parasite that Kris doesn't seem to enjoy hosting (i.e., Weird Route Ch4 aftermath), though they don't *get rid* of us.

The likely reason for this is what the voice on the phone (Carol) mentions. Kris cannot close the dark fountains without the soul, meaning they would be trapped in The Dark World if they're caught in one without it. Kris and The Knight are the only ones who can manipulate fountains (See Point 2).

But that's the thing... What do we know about The Knight and Device_Friend? Why go to the lengths of saying Device_Friend is The Devil, anyways? We will acknowledge this in the Intermission after this point.

Well, the very first glimpse at The Knight we get is of them hunched over, drooling and with a glazed-over eye. The host, like Kris, may likely have little to no control over their actions. For the purposes of our case, we can agree for now that this only makes sense if Dess were The Knight. It is the only way this can make sense for this theory since Carol has her role aside from being The Knight. It is this rope she plays that may tell us more about The Knight's powers - and how they parallel ours (See Point 3).

If Dess is deceased or a host completely taken over by The Devil, it would make complete sense that there would be no will or resistance like from Kris. It also explains why The Knight and Kris have similar animations and actions.

INTERMISSION 1: Summoning

It is mentioned on and off in passing that Catti tried summoning a demon when everyone was younger. I believe this has MAJOR significance that shouldn't be overlooked.

We can deduce that Kris, Dess and Catti would all be in the same clique due to being edgy youngsters as of when this happened. They must've succeeded in summoning it in a place nobody would easily find them - like by the lake, where the forest grows - and proceeding to follow the tail they see from what they summoned. But... Asgore must've suspected something. He goes out of his way to try and protect them from The Devil, but Dess makes a noble sacrifice and is dragged away instead - presumably to the bunker. Hence, Asgore is blamed for Dess' disappearance and loses both his job and his marriage.

What's so interesting about what this implies is that something must've occurred for this summoning to work. Since Kris and Catti were both likely there, it wouldn't be unlikely for Kris to try the summoning again to try and track Dess down - leading to Kris summoning the soul instead. If summoned by a monster, The Devil is made. If summoned by a human, The Angel is made. Light and dark.

POINT 2: Light/Dark Powers

It is known that Kris is the one to seal the fountains thanks to their soul, and The Knight is the one who creates them. While this is not unique to The Knight, there is one thing that *is* unique to them; Special Dark Fointains.

Ralsei says only specific darknesses can bring forth the dead. Kris' dark fountain differs from The Knight's because the one Kris made only focused on a space familiar to them. The Knight can make dark fountains - like that of Castle Town's - in which all darkness can flourish.

A being that harnesses light, and a being that harnesses dark. An angel, and a devil.

INTERMISSION 2: Tricky Tony's Homestuck Parallels

This may be a bit heady, but we know Toby likes to lift from Homestuck on many occasions. I'd like to direct your attention to two key characters - Peregrine Mendicant and Jack Noir.

Both are denizens of Sburb's (the homestuck game world) two major dreamspaces - Prospit (the light dream world) and Derse (the dark dream world). PM is from Prospit, and JN is from Derse.

At some points in the story, both come across rings (due to their ties with the royalty of both dreamworlds) that give them powers - special powers. Namely, they draw from the powers of the Kernelsprites (familiars) of the main party, The Kids. One of these familiars has god powers due to being formed from an all-powerful dog named Becquerel. JN, immediately upon getting these powers, is filled with an immense desire to kill all who opposed him and disrespected him in his life. Way down the line when PM gets their own ring, their immediate goal is to stop JN.

Drawing from the powers of the familiars... Drawing from the powers of your allies via ACTing. Powers of light and dark, the light one on a mission to stop the dark one, who wishes to destroy everything. An angel on a mission to stop a devil from causing The Roaring, both of their powers possessing otherwise mundane vessels - a human (light) and a monster (dark)... opposite, yet equal.

And what's more, JN's signature move - which they use *from the ring* is called 'Red Miles,' which is a move involving red vein-like energy surging and destroying or (importantly) corrupting things. Locations, planets, even entire universes can be destroyed by it...

And then remember what happens to Noelle in Ch4's weird route. Noelle is corrupted by this, just like the universe is corrupted by Red Miles. The result is red, vein-like fragmentation of her very soul. The parallels carry far more than one may think.

Homestuck is required reading for Deltarune, and I stick by this.

POINT 3: Influence

It's already well enough known that the soul has the power to ACT on its own... But both in Undertale and Deltarune, there's one common thread - the power to change people's minds. Even the most cruel of monsters can be spared with enough persuasion and determination.

This is immediately seen in Deltarune when both Susie and Ralsei fundamentally change across the story. Susie opens up and lets go of her burdens and self-loathing, while Ralsei lets go of his selflessness and dishonesty. They become attached to you... they can't ACT without you.

And when they're separate from you, you can see them. You can *influence* them. Even back in Ch1, when Susie fought Lancer, she resisted your influence. But in Ch4 against Gerson, she *let* you control her. And she didn't even know it...

Ralsei, meanwhile, seems to be above you in some way, what with their way to influence *you* to influence others. Not Kris, but *you*. They know you can focus elsewhere, and does so on multiple occasions to try and get you to control/influence Susie elsewhere. Ralsei goes along with your orders in order to complete the facade, but the fact he's immune you focusing on him means he's above you in some fashion - meaning he's far more powerful than he let's on. But that's besides the point for now. Instead...

Enter Noelle.

The Prophecy states LOVE finds it's way to The Girl. LOVE is an overt reference to LV, which is clearly seen with Noelle's ThornRing bringing her to 55 (LV) HP. Not to mention that the Jingle Sword (Holiday Pencil) can be wielded by her, and not by Susie like the prophecy picture depicts. It's clear that Susie is an outsider to The Prophecy - she is The Dragon of Dragon Blazers, wherever that fits into the actual prophecy (Ch1, where they 'defeat the dragon' as Gerson says).

Noelle in the weird route is experiencing exactly what Susie and Ralsei are experiencing, but to a higher degree. An *extreme* degree. Noelle's being influenced so strongly that her sense of free will is being stripped in exchange for absolute obedience to your will. In the Ch4 weird route, you solidify this - irreversably damaging her soul in order to place her in a 'trance' state, like the ThornRing says. Noelle is a puppet to you, doing your will - not Kris' will, but *your* will. The *Angel's* will.

Enter Carol.

The Knight and Carol in some way are linked. Carol has essential knowledge about the dark world that not even we the player know. Who's to say that Carol isn't just *cooperating* with The Knight, but a *puppet* to them? There's no reason the mayor should have that kind of knowledge considering it's clear she's busy with her work almost constantly - though that *could* be a front - but if the two are literally *linked*, that makes everything make way more sense.

Carol in this sense cannot be The Knight because Carol knows that The Knight is Dess. She is a bitter, grieving mother who would do anything to see her daughter again - even if it meant giving into The Devil to take her very soul as a puppet.

This also recontextualizes why The Knight wished to abduct Toriel in Ch3, and the meaning of the 'police sacrifice'. The act of 'sacrifice' is the very thing you do in the Ch4 weird route - they sacrifice their soul to you for complete obedience and trance. If Toriel became a puppet, she would be able to monitor you from your very own home - to keep tabs on The Angel and squash out any plans for resistance.

Carol is a puppet. Noelle is a puppet. Both of their fates are intertwined in Dess' life as Rudy's life hangs in the balance of it all. The stakes couldn't be higher, as they're both afraid of losing the ones they love again. They would do *anything* to protect the ones they love... *and* the ones they LV.

INTERMISSION 3: Tricky Tony's (even further) Homestuck Parallels.

If the Homestuck parallels are anything as I thought, we can view the corruption of the universe (and the hopping to a new, alternate one) in Homestuck as what may happen with Noelle.

Kris is corrupted and damaged beyond repair, but you - the player - jump ship to a new alternate vessel. If it's part of the prophecy - which it *may be* (since it says 'The Cage, with Human Soul and Parts') - like most of the prophecy, it can be interpreted many ways. 'Human Soul and Parts' may imply 'Human Soul and Human Parts,' as in Kris and maybe eventually your vessel (hence the Human Parts). However, it could also be interpreted as 'Human Soul and [Other] Parts,' whether those other parts be Soul parts or body parts. If it's the former, it could be surmised that you *will* possess Noelle at some point, jumping ship from Kris after a major event (maybe having to do with losing their hand). Noelle's soul, meanwhile, will be 'in parts.'

During the battle in the dying universe in Homestuck, Jade tries to stop PM and JN, but is killed on her quest bed - reviving her with her god-tier powers. Interestingly, she merges with a familiar of a version of herself merged with Becquerel, making her part dog in the process. Kris is depicted acting dog-like, such as howling or doing dog-related things in combat for ACTs. If this revival of Jade represents this, then that only further implies that Noelle will be who we the player possess on our way to the final battle against The Knight in the weird route.

In Homestuck, PM and JN have an epic final battle, but one thing of final note is the fact that both have one major weakness... Jade herself, who was the owner of the god dog Becquerel. We can make parallels between Becquerel and Friend, since the parallels also tie between Noelle and Jade. Both owned a pet at one point that has deific powers, and those powers are held by vessels that both in some way are attached to her. Friend was raised by Noelle in CatPetterz and may feel a parental bond to her like Becquerel did with Jade. Us, the player, feel a bond with Noelle because we as human beings like her as a character. Hence, we, The Angel, and The Devil also parallel together in that way.

Interestingly enough, in the final battle in Homestuck, Jade tries to stop them - but PM pushes her out of the way when JN hesitates, dealing the blow that severs the ring and JN. This may suggest that The Knight may be susceptible to Noelle, but we must commit a final disrespect - maybe even being 'The Death of The Girl' in The Final Prophecy that Susie misinterprets as her own death.

And the other thing... PM makes JN lose their hand in order to lose their ring in the final battle. Without their hand, they have no powers. Without our hand, we cannot ACT.

HOMESTUCK. IS. ESSENTIAL. READING. FOR. DELTARUNE!!!!!!

CONCLUSION: Final Thoughts

I in no way have faith any of my predictions hold water, as many things are likely to be more original than my Homestuck-based theory-crafting. However, the point still stands that we The Angel and Friend The Devil are kindred spirits at heart. I firmly believe they will serve as the Flowey of this game, perhaps even including the Asriel-like reveal of them being Dess in their final battle.

I can't act like I know what I'm saying, though! I'd love to he surprised, but I'll definitely post more Deltarune theories in the future, like how I think the Ch5 secret boss is going to be Carol - but that's another plate of cookies for another glass of milk.

I hope you like the theory! Feel free to share it as long as you credit this post. Otherwise, go ham :3

[sunshineram]

i dont think ill finish this emerald comic but i really like it still 👉👈

based on this techno clip :)

[unopenablebox]

what do we think is the most low effort "observance" of "passover" i could do

[dennisboobs]

plain and simple i am not going to be able to remain in this fandom long-term if i have to keep putting disclaimers on every single one of my posts that say i don't condone dennis' bad, bad actions and that i am in fact aware he's got a history of sexual assault and dubious/nonconsent. the entire gang has done heinous shit. why is dennis the only one who needs to be treated like this? if some rando wants to post about how dennis is pookie pie that doesn't automatically mean they're blind to his crimes. every single member of the gang is a piece of shit. that's kind of the point.

draw dennis with cat ears who give a shit

[butchdomesticwhore]

why is it so hard to recognize that all this info about bills and such is something you can acquire via googling and making phone calls to people who work in these departments and--yes!--asking them questions on what your best next step is? how does making this about systemic oppression help you or anyone else complete practical, adult tasks? when you point at a paper bill from a medical institution and declare it fundamentally classist, does the bill magically crumple into the dust, the issue dealt with and over because you aptly named the systemic issue at play? no!

do you get angry at mechanics when they tell you they have an idea regarding how your car could be fixed, also? how does that help you? what have you learned from deciding to be angry as opposed to using the information dealt to you? perhaps you should not be told by cashiers either about when the sales happen or how items are put on clearance lest their Insider Knowledge tell you something you don't know and--gasp--come from a place of privilege.

the point of my info and OP's is practical use. "if you have this problem, [x] might solve it." privilege or no, how the info is acquired doesn't matter as much as whether or not it's accurate and helps people. and despite your daftness, i very much hope any of this info helps YOU. or if not you, then someone you know. or someone completely random, i don't give a damn.

Ok so my kid had an ear infection, right? As kids often do.

The doctor scraped out a bit of earwax to have a better look inside.

I was sent a bill for $200 PER EAR for this 5 second procedure which I did not give permission for them to do.

That was key- they did not ASK me if they could do this "procedure". And, as I OWN a medical practice (it's me. The medical practice is me, sitting in my house on video calls) I knew to call them when this bill came in to be like "You did not obtain informed consent for this procedure, and it was not en emergency procedure. You had full ability to gain my consent and didn't. I'm not paying."

And the massive hospital who owned the bill said "yuh-huh you do have to pay."

And I said "I own a practice. I know these laws. I do not owe you money for this."

And they conducted an "internal review" and SURPRISE! Decided I totally owed them money and they had never done anything wrong ever.

And so I called my state's Attorney General office, and explained the situation because, as I mentioned, I know the law. The AG got in touch within a couple days to say they were taking the case and would send the massive hospital conglomerate a knock it off, guys letter.

Lo and Behold, today I have a letter where said hospital graciously has agreed to forfeit the payment.

"How not to get screwed over by companies" should be part of civics class.

Know your rights and know who to call when they're infringed on. This whole process cost me $0 and honestly less effort than I would have expected.

May this knowledge find its way to someone else who can use it.

[ashenberry]

8, 12 ^_^

this is really funny bc i think the last time i did this ask game you sent similar numbers

8. common fandom opinion that everyone is wrong about

so so so so i was gonna say. kaz wouldnt have a bionic arm post v but uhh i went ahead and checked real quick AND I SAID THAT LAST TIME AUHG FUCK. .3. hmmmm. i guess other than that uh. psh i dont think that bb 'misunderstood' the boss's will the way most people seem to understand it? I think he knew what she wanted and he made the conscious decision to not follow her footsteps but thats. just the textual canon of the end of peacewalker? and i feel like this more stems from people just playing 3 or just v / not playing peacewalker which in that case yeah that IS how it reads but he's like.

Snake: ...She betrayed me, Kaz. Miller: She what? Snake: In the end, she put down her gun. And when she did... she rejected her entire life up to that point... including me. Miller: What do you mean? Snake: In giving up her life, she abandoned everything she was as a soldier... Miller: And you consider that betrayal? Snake: I won't make the same choice as her. My future's going to be different.

like it took him a while to come to this conclusion, grief is one hell of a drug, and during portable ops he even states that he isnt even really sure what she meant but i feel like this is like. the most plainly you can get of, "I know that she wanted a world without war, but i have staked my entire identity in being a Weapon so I wont follow her example"

12. the unpopular character that you actually like and why more people should like them

i know there is a ton there in canon but sunnyyyyyyy pleaseeeeeee she is like trucy wright to meeee

but also? man i really like eva :> i came around with her SUUPER hard i didnt like her first time i played 3 n if u look at my posts around that time you can tell but god i love her so much i wish we gotta see her during v

[polyamoryprincess]

I mean… yeah, that was a huge part of the underlying plot. The beginning of the movie is about how Bal is literally a poor orphan who was only given a chance at success by joining the army and was immediately used as propaganda for child soldiers for the next ~10-15 years up until he’s used as a scapegoat. Even Nimona’s whole backstory is about them using Gloreth, a child, and painting her as an adult woman defeating a monster. You could even assume the child soldier stuff started specifically because of that fight with Nimona and is probably Nimona’s main tangible goal - to end the child soldiers program.

Which is how Nimona, who is literally a Permanent Child, brings all of those themes together. She’s brash, loud, chaotic, and a unique individual, everything a child is that being a soldier would take from you, and that the society tries to take from you, (goldenloin’s big internal monologues and his general dorkiness when not in public is a big example of this) and they paint her as a monster for it. Her entire goal is to tear down the institute, specifically as it pertains to gloreth and she chooses the main subject of the child soldier propaganda who is chewed up and spit out, and I genuinely think the only reason Nimona doesn’t explicitly say to Bal, when he’s still iffy about hurting the institutes image, “dude… you’re literally a child soldier. They’re making kids into killers,” is purely to keep the plot from being too short and to avoid ever explicitly mentioning it in the movie for the sake of audience participation.

Like the director was a villain, but so was the queen, so was the society handing over their kids. So was everyone who kept letting this happen and acting like it was normal and fine.

A line I don’t think gets talked about enough:

“He didn’t cut off my arm. He was disarming a weapon. It’s how we were trained.”

The Institute took young kids and turned them into weapons. The Knights were trained to view themselves and their bodies as weapons.

Ambrosius cutting off Ballister’s arm was ingrained instinct. You can see in his face that he doesn’t realize what he’s doing until it’s too late, until the blade is already too far along in it’s swing. And after, he drops his sword like he didn’t realize how it got into his hand in the first place. He looks at Ballister with a dawning horror of what he’s just done, on instinct.

And then, the big fight. There’s a reason Ballister was top of the class. When fighting the guards he isn’t touched. In the middle of fighting Ambrosius, he cloths-lines a guard behind him WITHOUT EVEN LOOKING. Ambrosius doesn’t even look surprised that Ballister won, as if it’s normal, as if Ballister had always won their duels before.

I just. I have a lot of thoughts about this and I don’t have the words to express them. I just want other people to see what I see and talk about it too. To think about the implications of that line and how it’s delivered in a matter-of-fact way.

[joonie-beanie]

Doctor's Orders | [Wriothesley x Reader]

Summary: “Simply put, the Duke needs to have sexual intercourse to relieve his tension. After watching the two of you and seeing you interact on both physical and intellectual levels, I determined that you would be ideal partners for each other. So, I invited the both of you to partake in an aphrodisiac made from the herbs you gathered for me.” In which a simple tea time turns heated, and you get caught up in the consequence of Wriothesley not listening to his doctor. Content: Smut, Consensual Sex, Oral Sex, Aphrodisiacs, fem!reader Word Count: 7.9k

Sigewinne is evil.

You would have never suspected that such a tiny, cute body could contain so much malevolence. (Although, Sigewinne would personally argue that you’re confused, and that the word you’re looking for is actually benevolence. But, you digress.)

It all starts a few weeks into your employment at the Fortress of Meropide.

You’d spotted a job listing for a “personal assistant” in passing one day, and had immediately become interested thanks to the very generous salary listed on the paper. Seeing the job was located in Fontaine’s unofficial prison had, of course, caused you to have some second thoughts about applying, but at the end of the day, money is money.

Which is how you’d found yourself down on the ocean floor, waiting with a few other candidates outside the Duke’s office.

You’d be lying if you said that you weren’t nervous—waiting there to meet the head honcho of the prison. That when he stepped out to call you inside for your interview—all tall and beefy and scarred—your heart didn’t nervously flutter inside your chest.

…but to your surprise, he’s actually much softer than he appears.

“So,” he says, sitting down across from you at his desk. He folds his arms and smiles at you. “Why should I hire you? ”

Having been through this process before, you had immediately rattled off your qualifications and experiences. A few of which Wriothesley had proceeded to comment on and inquire about further. But it wasn’t until he asked—

“What benefit will I receive from picking you specifically?”

And you’d responded with—

“Errand girl.”

“What?”

“I can run errands for you. I’m sure the guards can be slow, going back and forth. But if you’re my direct employer, I can do whatever you want. Drop documents off, check in on things…pick up more tea.”

—that Wriothesley finally makes up his mind.

“Hmm. Very convincing.”

The next day, you receive a letter with the terms of your employment, and your official start date.

So, since then, you’ve been working for Wriothesley. Which is actually kind of���nice.

Your job mostly consists of going back and forth between the prison and the surface, so that Wriothesley can stay in the Fortress and better monitor his domain. The autonomy the job grants you is very rewarding, and in the same breath, Wriothesley also feels rewarded by how you take care of things without him needing to ask more than once.

Safe to say, the two of you get along.

…which Sigewinne notices.

You, of course, meet Sigewinne on your first day. Wriothesley makes a point of introducing you and showing you where the nurse’s office is located, in case you get hurt, or need to drop something off.

The human-like melusine enthusiastically welcomes you, and, at first, you see her as…someone sweet, and caring. A treasure of the prison.

However, over time, your opinion of her slowly starts to change.

Because she keeps looking at you. Specifically, whenever you’re standing next to Wriothesley.

“Why is she doing that?” you ask him one day, nudging him gently with your elbow. He immediately looks up from his meal, over to where Sigewinne is waiting in the lunch line, her pink eyes boring into you.

“She’s probably just double checking that you’re healthy,” Wriothesley responds, paying her no mind. “I often catch her staring at me, too. You must be growing on her.”

Despite his reassuring words, you can’t help but feel a little…put off…by the look in her eyes. Like she’s plotting something.

The second weird thing you notice is when you walk into the infirmary to drop off some herbs she’d asked for, and find her drawing. At first, you assume she’s doodling, since she seems kid-like a lot of the time.

But instead, when you lean over her shoulder and look, you see that she’s writing words. A big, black “DO NOT DISTURB”...with pink hearts and a few flowers drawn around it.

“What’s that for?” you ask her, forcing a smile.

“Oh! It’s just for a project I’m working on,” she responds, swiveling in her chair to face you. She happily kicks her feet, her eyes darting to the herbs you’re carrying with you.

“Ah, are those what I asked for? Thank you!”

You hand her the small bundle of dried flowers and grasses, watching as she immediately turns and places them on her desk next to some string, and cheesecloth.

“You’re welcome,” you respond, taking a small step backwards. “If that’s all, I’ll keep working on the rest of the tasks on my list—”

“Wait,” she says, grabbing your wrist. You instantly freeze, your eyes going wide as you turn back to face her. There’s a serious look on her face.

“How do you feel about Wriothesley?”

Her question makes your heart skip—heat rising on your skin.

“What?”

She doesn’t bother elaborating or giving you context, just waits for you to respond. You cough a little, feeling awkward, and wondering what kind of answer she’s looking for.

“Well…I mean. I think he’s a good boss. He’s friendly, and devoted to his job. He runs the prison well.”

Sigewinne nods, but doesn’t comment. Just keeps…staring.

Feeling pressured, you force yourself to think of more to say.

“Um…he’s deserving of his title and the respect he garners. I…enjoy speaking with him? Like when he invites me to partake in tea breaks. I dunno…he just kinda reminds me of a big, fluffy puppy. He looks scary but he’s actually pretty…cute, y’know?”

Finally, Sigewinne smiles. She takes your hand in her tiny ones, giving it a squeeze.

“Thank you for answering my question. You can go now.”

You blink at her dumbly, but nonetheless excuse yourself from the room.

Two days later, Wriothesley invites you to his office for tea. And to your surprise, when you walk in, you find Sigewinne waiting there as well.

“Thank you for coming!” she says as you enter the room. You flash her a smile, taking a seat in one of the open chairs around the table.

“Of course!”

“Sigewinne has a tea she wants us both to try,” Wriothesley explains, a fond look in his eyes as he watches the resident nurse flit around—pouring hot water into the teacups that have been set out.

You nod.

“I see.”

“Although, I don’t know why you won’t just steep the tea in the pot,” Wriothesley complains to her, just as Sigewinne places individual tea bags in each cup. “Are we not all being served the same tea?”

She cutely huffs.

“For your information, no we are not. Your and Y/N’s tea is unique.”

“Oh?” Wriothesley leans forward to look into the teacups as the colors from the herbs begin to bleed into the water. “What’s so unique about it?”

“You’ll see,” she responds with a playful look, one that causes Wriothesley to amusedly raise his eyebrows. However, he doesn’t say anything more—simply waiting for the tea to appropriately steep.

“...are you using the herbs I brought you?”

You can’t help but notice the smell wafting from the cup in front of you is a little familiar. Sigewinne nods.

“Wow! I’m surprised you noticed.”

“Ah, so this must be the reason you wanted me to lend you Y/N for a task the other day,” Wriothesley chimes in, his icy blue eyes once again shifting to Sigewinne. 

“Do I get to know what herbs you requested Y/N to bring you, exactly?”

The resident nurse shakes her head, quietly laughing when Wriothesley sighs and deflates back into his chair. 

“It’s meant to be a surprise! I want to see what you think about the taste without knowing the ingredients.”

“I suppose that’s fair.”

Folding your hands on your lap, the office descends into silence for a brief moment, the three of you intently watching the teacups in front of you. Then, Sigewinne finally claps her hands and declares—

“Okay, they’ve steeped long enough. Go ahead!”

“Finally,” Wriothesley happily mumbles, reaching forward to pick up the pristine little plate on which his cup of tea resides. He brings the cup to his nose, inhaling deeply, and then takes a tentative sip.

“Hmm…”

He frowns, his brows pinching as he tries to discern the flavors he’s tasting. 

Curiosity getting the better of you, you take a sip from your own cup—wincing as the hot liquid accidentally burns your tongue.

“So?” Sigewinne prompts, staring excitedly between the two of you.

“It’s…pleasant,” you respond, clearly not as big of a tea connoisseur as the Duke. “It has a hint of sweetness.”

“It tastes like a Rainbow Rose smells,” Wriothesley adds, taking another sip. His gaze slides to you. “Did you pick some for her?”

You shake your head.

“No, I didn’t. Or…at least I didn’t pick any fresh ones. I did go to a vendor and purchase something in a bottle that looked like crushed, pink dust.”

Sigewinne cutely laughs. 

“As expected of you, Your Grace. Yes, one of the ingredients is dried Rainbow Rose petals. Do you like it?”

Wriothesley makes a pleased sound.

“I do. The taste is light, but pleasant—like Y/N said.”

“Good! I want both of you to drink up.” 

Sigewinne finally picks up her own tea, and you can’t help but notice the difference in color when compared to yours and Wriothesley’s. She really is drinking something different…but why?

“Aye aye, captain,” Wriothesley responds, which makes Sigewinne laugh. You smile at the cute interaction between them, and have some more of your tea as well.

Together, the three of you engage in friendly conversation—catching up about recent topics while indulging in tea and a few different snacks that Wriothesley had pulled out for the occasion. As you drink, you can’t help but notice you feel…warm. A heat that spreads out from your stomach, and slowly creeps into your limbs.

You’ve never felt this way before but…maybe the tea is just extra hot today? 

You glance up to Wriothesley and notice that he’s a little flushed as well. Which is…reassuring? You think. Since you’re obviously not the only one affected.

“Oh! Y/N!” 

Sigewinne’s sudden call of your name draws you from your thoughts, and you look over at her. She smiles.

“I forgot to ask, but are you dating anyone?”

“Sigewinne,” Wriothesley gently scolds. He leans forward and sets his teacup on the table, the cup now empty.

His tone practically says “It’s not appropriate to ask questions like that” without actually saying it. Sigewinne pouts.

“Aww, c’mon. We’re all friends here! I wouldn’t ask otherwise.”

Hearing that the melusine considers you to be a friend, you decide to grace her with an answer—ignoring the tingling of the taste buds on your tongue.

“No, I am not seeing anyone,” you inform her with a polite smile. Sigewinne nods happily at your answer, which makes your smile waver.

Is she happy you’re single?? Ouch.

“Okay, good,” she says. “I’d feel a little bad, otherwise.”

You blink in confusion at her words, watching her as she pops off her chair and heads towards the door. Wriothesley raises an eyebrow at her.

There’s sweat beading on his brow.

“Where are you going?”

“Away,” she responds. “To give you two some privacy.”

You and Wriothesley glance at each other, mirroring each other’s confusion.

Your tummy starts to ache.

“Why are you leaving us alone, exactly?”

Stopping just in front of the office doors, Sigewinne turns on her heel to face the two of you. There’s a smug grin on her face. 

“This is what happens when you don’t follow doctor’s orders.”

You frown, raising a hand to your chest, wondering why your heart is suddenly racing. 

What’s this about doctor’s orders?

You glance over at Wriothesley…only to see that he’s frozen in shock—his eyes wide with realization.

His pants feel too tight.

“Sigewinne, you did not—”

There’s an edge to his voice when he speaks, his eyes narrowing. He plants his feet on the floor and prepares to stand and confront her, but before he can blink, Sigewinne has drawn her pistol—a tranquilizing bullet hitting him square in the chest, where a little patch of skin is showing. 

He makes a noise of surprise, and quickly flops back into his chair to avoid falling on the floor—his limbs immediately going numb.

“Sigewinne!” you gasp. You’re not sure what’s going on, but the fact that she’d just shot Wriothesley is…

“It’s okay,” she says with a little sigh. “The effect will wear off in a few minutes. And…I’m sorry I scared you. Let me explain…”

She holsters her gun and smiles at you, trying to calm you down.

“As the nurse of the Fortress of Meropide, it is my duty to look after all residents, including Your Grace. And over the last few months, I’ve noticed him becoming more… irritable.”

“Sigewinne…,” Wriothesley mumbles, but the girl waves him off.

“After observing him for a while, I realized that his stress levels were getting high. And as his doctor, I recommended him a way to manage his stress, but he refused. He insisted tea was enough to soothe his nerves, but that’s simply not true. So…when you started working here, and I saw how well the two of you were getting along, I…got an idea.”

Sigewinne glances over at Wriothesley, noticing how he’s begun to shift his boots against the floor. 

Her tranquilizers won’t be in effect much longer. They never work as well on people Wriothesley’s size…

So, she decides to cut to the chase.

Reaching into her pocket, Sigewinne pulls out the DO NOT DISTURB sign you’d seen her making the other day. She holds it in front of her, and beams at you.

“Simply put, the Duke needs to have sexual intercourse to relieve his tension. After watching the two of you and seeing you interact on both physical and intellectual levels, I determined that you would be ideal partners for each other. So, I invited the both of you to partake in an aphrodisiac made from the herbs you gathered for me.”

“You…you drugged us?” you gape, completely thrown by everything she’s just told you. She immediately gets defensive, her cheeks puffing.

“I medicated you,” she corrects. “And in the end, I’m only acting as a doctor. This all could have been avoided if Your Grace had just taken care of his own needs, as I’d insisted. Since he didn’t, I could only logically assume it's because it’s his preference to have a partner, rather than going at it solo. So, if you want to blame anyone for this, please blame him.”

“Sigewinne—” 

Gripping the arms of his chair, Wriothesley breathes out a heavy sigh and begins to push himself up. You can’t help but notice his face is much redder now, and you’re not sure if it’s from embarrassment, the effects of the drugs, or both.

Seeing that Wriothesley has nearly regained his strength, Sigewinne hurries to exit his office.

“Anyway! The effects of the tea should wear off in a few hours, but only if you relieve yourselves. Otherwise, it will last much longer. So I suggest you let loose and indulge yourselves. You like each other! Enjoy this time!”

Wriothesley opens his mouth to say something, but his words catch in his throat the second Sigewinne opens his office door. He doesn’t want anyone outside of his office walls to hear him or know what’s going on.

“I’ll hang this sign on the door,” Sigewinne continues, her voice hushing. “So no one comes in while you two are…busy. Just remove it once you’re done, okay? Have fun!”

With a supportive little fist pump, Sigewinne then closes the door, leaving you and Wriothesley alone.

A few long beats of silence pass, then Wriothesley finally sighs.

"I…apologize for this. I never meant for you to get roped in."

You turn to look at him, only to find that he's standing with his back to you, his hand raising to rub at the back of his head.

You can see his muscles flexing as he does so, and you hate to admit that it causes the heat inside you to grow.

"It's…not your fault," you respond, laughing a little awkwardly. "I doubt it's easy to follow directions when your doctor tells you to jack off to rectify your hardass-ness."

Wriothesley glances at you over his shoulder.

"Have I been acting like a hardass?"

"You've been a little snippy at times," you tell him, smoothing your sweaty palms down your legs. Seriously, your clothes are starting to make you feel claustrophobic…

"Not to me, specifically. But I've noticed it towards some of the prison residents."

"Shit," he sighs, rubbing his temples. You continue to watch him, your eyes wandering the expanse of his back. For a second, you don't understand why he won't face you. Then it clicks.

"...are you…hard? Is that why you're not turning around?"

"It's…pretty bad," Wriothesley admits, his shoulder sagging in defeat. "I don't know what all was in that tea but…as an aphrodisiac, it's doing its job."

"Yeah…," you agree, swallowing heavily. You can feel wet arousal pooling on the fabric of your panties. His office has also started to feel like a sauna, but you're not sure if it's the air that's hot, or your body.

However, you're still not willing to breach the topic of "relief" with him. You haven't reached that level of desperation…yet .

So, you think of something else to carry the conversation in the meantime.

"So…Sigewinne said you like me?"

"Ah, you caught that."

He laughs a little, and begins pacing around the room, still careful to keep his back to you. You can't help but notice his stride is a little…impeded.

"If I'm being frank—yes, I do. You've been…a pleasure to have around, since I hired you. Actually, one of the reasons I picked you in the first place was because of how you acted during your interview. Most people are scared of me and therefore talk cautiously. You're certainly respectful, of course, but…you're a bit playful, as well. And I found that quality to be attractive."

"Ah, so I charmed you," you respond playfully. "Remind me to add that point to my resume later. "Managed to woo the Lord of the Fortress of Meropide". That sounds pretty good—"

"And there you go again," Wriothesley laughs. He steps behind the chair he'd been sitting in previously, and then finally turns to face you—the back of the chair tall enough that his lower half is out of sight. 

"Although, if I recall her words correctly, Sigewinne stated that we "like each other". So, is there something you'd like to say as well?"

Your eyes go wide, and you feel more blood rush into your head. Wriothesley smiles, wide enough to show teeth. 

"C’mon now. It's not fair that I praise you and get nothing in return."

You pout.

"To be fair, I didn't know why Sigewinne suddenly asked me what I thought of you…"

"That’s understandable, but still. I'd like to know what you told her."

Wriothesley maintains his playful demeanor, despite the way his knuckles begin to turn white at his sides—a deep-seated need slowly sinking its claws into him.

You sigh.

"I just…told her that you're a good boss, and are deserving of your titles and the respect you garner…"

You trail off, suddenly remembering the last thing you'd told Sigewinne during that conversation. Wriothesley clearly notices there's something you're leaving out, one of his eyebrows raising.

"And?"

You take a deep breath.

"That you're a cute puppy."

He blinks in shock.

"...excuse me?"

Oh god, you wanna phase through the floor.

"I said that even though you look scary, you're really just like a big…cute…puppy."

For a moment, Wriothesley can only stare at you. Then, he throws his head back and laughs. 

Embarrassed, you plant your palms on your thighs and push to your feet, instinctively wanting to run away…only to realize that your legs have gone weak. 

With a distraught noise, you flop back into your chair. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Wriothesley notices.

He coughs, pulling himself back together.

"Well, I've certainly never heard myself described in such a way before. I can't say I totally hate it, but I'm not sure if I agree with the term "puppy"."

You force an awkward laugh, finally losing steam as the arousal inside you begins to cloud your thoughts. Sigewinne obviously wasn't messing around when making her aphrodisiac…you've never felt so horny before that it has literally hindered your mental and physical faculties.

The office is silent for a few tense moments, but finally, Wriothesley heaves a heavy sigh. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, his shoulders slumping as he hangs his head.

"You may revoke your good opinion of me, considering how inappropriate it is for a boss to even consider such a thing, but…I think my dick is gonna explode soon, so I'll just come out and ask."

You swallow, anticipating his next words.

"Would you be…interested in having sex?"

Your body shivers in excitement at the idea, the lustful part of your brain screaming at you to jump him already.

"I…would," you admit, managing to keep it together. Wriothesley's entire body jolts impatiently at your words, but he’s able to keep himself grounded. 

"I don't think I'll be able to survive…this without some relief. And…I trust you. So…"

"So we're in agreement," Wrioslethely supplies, waiting for your confirmation. You nod your head. 

"We are."

In the next beat, he's is crossing the space between you, a "thank god" barely making it past his lips before he crashes them into yours.

Immediately, you’re groaning into him—your arms wrapping around his neck and his hands finding the backs of your thighs. He lifts you from your chair easily—your chests pressing together as he holds you close.

You’ve always been acutely aware of how large Wriothesley is, but you don’t think it fully sinks in until now—as he manhandles you with ease, quite literally carrying you with one arm as the other sneaks beneath your shirt and tugs it over your head.

You’re forced to break the kiss as he does so, but the second the fabric has been discarded, you’re tangling your fingers in his hair and dragging him in for another. 

Your action evokes a pleased little rumble inside his chest.

“You taste sweet,” he mumbles, his palm roaming over the exposed skin of your back. The warmth of his skin against yours makes you ache.

“It’s probably the aphrodisiac,” you reply breathlessly, a shiver raking your spine when you feel his fingers toy at the waistband of your pants.

“Hmm, shall we posit your theory?”

Before you can even think to ask what he means, the room is spinning—too many things happening at once. However, it’s nearly impossible to miss the feel of your pants being shucked down your legs.

When everything settles, you find that you’re no longer chest to chest with Wriothesley, but rather, face to dick.

“Wh—”

Your cheeks heat up as you finally digest the position he’s put you in—your ass in his face, and his crotch in yours—his body now firmly planted in a chair as he spreads his thighs and makes himself comfortable.

“Wriothesley!” you say in shock, your palms gripping his legs for support as you attempt to turn and face him. However, you quickly realize with the position he has chosen, you’re fairly helpless to do anything—completely at his mercy as he locks his arms around your legs and grips your ass in his hands.

“Hm?” he responds nonchalantly, one of his fingers slipping under the edge of your panties. You shift a little, trying to glare at him, but only succeed in having his clothed dick poke you in the cheek. He tenses at the sensation, and you feel his cock strain helplessly against the fabric of his pants—begging for more friction.

“I’m just testing your theory, like I said,” he continues, a surprised mewl tearing from your throat as he leans his head forward and nuzzles his nose in the damp fabric of your panties.

“If you think it’s the aphrodisiac making you sweet, let’s see if it’s also having that effect elsewhere—”

Before you can protest, Wriothesley is tugging the crotch of your underwear aside—his tongue licking a hot, languid strip between your folds. You gasp at the feeling, your nails digging into his thighs through the layer of clothes that he wears.

Above you, the Duke makes a pleased sound, repeating his previous action—noting the way your body writhes against his hold. His fingers grip your ass tighter, his brows furrowing as he presses his tongue inside your entrance—your arousal quickly coating his taste buds.

“Yep,” he mutters after a moment, his voice tight and his throat bobbing as he harshly swallows. “You taste…addicting.”

His words have your cunt squeezing around nothing, although he quickly dives back in and rectifies that problem—stretching your walls out around his tongue. 

“Fuck…,” you pant, your head dropping as your strength wanes. Your muscles progressively start to feel like jelly, thanks to his ministrations. Especially, when he moves his mouth to your clit and begins rolling his tongue around it—a whine escaping you as the desire inside of you sears white hot.

And yet, despite the way Wriothesley presses on—groaning into your pussy as he eats you out—you’d be remiss to forget about the fact that he’s currently affected by the aphrodisiac as well, and has his own needs that need to be taken care of.

So, gathering what strength you have, you manage to push yourself up onto your forearms—your hands moving to the waistband of his pants. You frantically work open the button and zipper of his slacks, and then hook your fingers under the elastic of his underwear, tugging the band down.

…only to have his freed cock immediately spring up and smack you in the face.

Your eyes go wide, and in normal circumstances, you’d expect Wriothesley to laugh at the comedy of what has just occurred. However, too immersed in the way your cunt tastes and feels, and the way your body continues to twitch in his hold, he doesn’t even notice. And, too amazed by the sheer size of Wriothesley’s dick as you finally lean your head back and get a good look at him, you don’t bother saying anything.

No, instead you simply part your lips and take the head of his cock into your mouth—sucking lightly, your tongue teasing at his slit. The groan that’s immediately torn from his throat is involuntary—the sound becoming muffled by your pussy as he momentarily stops to savor the feeling of your mouth on his dick—your tongue flattening on the underside of his shaft as you slowly take more of him into your mouth.

Then, he goes back to eating you out with renewed fervor—your eyes nearly rolling back into your skull when he sucks at your clit.

The room quickly fills with the sound of sloppy and messy oral, your head bobbing up and down Wriothesley’s cock. Saliva drips down his length, his pre-cum smearing against your tongue, and you can’t help but moan.

Everything feels so good—from Wriothesley’s tongue on your cunt, to the way his cock fills up your mouth…

“Fuck,” Wriothesley growls. His fingers move to pull at the folds of your pussy, spreading you open wider. You can feel his hot breath on your skin as he moves his mouth back to your clit, where he then stays—his tongue flicking rhythmically against the sensitive bundle of nerves.

The pace and motion he settles on is one that you know will very quickly damn you, and he figures this out as well based on the way your thighs begin to shake in his grasp. Your body attempts to jolt away from him—trying to escape the onslaught of pleasure he intends to give—but he leaves no wiggle room. He holds you tighter, enjoying the feeling of your mouth on his cock, and how your efforts slowly start to crumble along with your sanity.

“I…,” you mumble the word around dick, trying to warn him of the orgasm you can feel quickly approaching. Your entire body swims with arousal, your head feeling light. 

“Keep going, sweetheart,” he pants. “Let’s cum together.”

You feel his cock throb against your tongue, and, dutifully, you do your best to continue sucking him off—your lips once again suctioning around his shaft. Your actions immediately evoke a pleased groan from the Duke, and you feel his thighs tense in your grasp—his own orgasm quickly approaching.

However, despite your best efforts to continue, everything falls apart the second your climax finally crests.

With a cry, you come undone—your body writhing in his hold. You go brainless almost immediately, the strength in your arms wavering, and Wriothesley’s cock stuffing into your cheek—your hot breath fanning over his length.

Luckily, the vulgarity of the entire situation is enough to push Wriothesley over the finish line—his dick painting the inside of your mouth with his cum. And to his surprise, once he’s spent, you actually pull your head back, close your lips, and swallow.

Shit, he thinks. 

His dick is just starting to soften, and yet somehow, it’s also already getting hard again.

There’s a few beats of quiet that are filled only with the sound of you and Wriothesley panting. Then, once he’s caught his breath, he says—

“Let’s get you right side up.”

—and the world spins again.

Honestly, the fact that he can manhandle you this easily is criminal.

“You okay?” he asks, sitting you on one of his thighs. He brushes a few stray hairs from your face, staring at you with a hint of concern.

You nod your head, grateful that the carnal desire you’ve been afflicted with is clearly less, now that you and Wriothesley have both gotten off. But…even despite that, you still feel hot and tingly. Like you want more.

You glance down at his lap.

“Mmm. Seems like you’re in the same predicament as me.”

“Think you can handle another round?” he asks. You meet his eyes, playfully raising your eyebrows.

“I’m almost tempted to say no, and see what you do.”

Wriothesley rolls his eyes, his hands grabbing your waist, and in the next moment, you find yourself slung over his shoulder.

“Hey—!” you protest, attempting to look at him, but he only caresses your ass with his free hand.

“If you have that much spunk left in you, you can handle another round,” he says, carrying you down the nearby staircase, to the floor below his office. “But, I’ll be kind this time and make you more comfortable.”

His boots echo against the metal floor as he walks, and for a second, you wonder where exactly he’s taking you. But, soon after, Wriothesley pushes through a nearby door, and you find yourself in a moderately sized bedroom.

It must be his, you realize, feeling a little silly that you’d never pondered before now where the Master of the prison actually sleeps.

“Here we are.”

Wriothesley gently deposits you onto his bed, and then immediately reaches for his tie. You watch him with bated breath, your heart doing a tiny flip as you realize that he’s finally stripping out of his clothes. He opts to leave on the leather belts encircling his arms and neck, instead focusing the bulk of his time on shedding his suit, and undoing the many buckles on his boots. 

By the time he’s finished—his erect cock once again sitting heavy between his legs—you’re practically drooling at the sight of him.

His lips twitch into a little smile.

“I’m happy to know that you like what you see. However, in the time I spent undressing myself, you couldn’t be bothered to remove what little clothing you have left? C’mon now, are you waiting for me to wrestle you out of them?”

Still feeling cheeky, you flash him a grin.

“Hm, I’d like to see you try.”

Wriothesley immediately cocks an eyebrow, his eyes glinting at the challenge you’ve just issued, and your attitude wavers, realizing what it is you’ve done. You open your mouth to say you’re only teasing—your hands already raising behind your back to undo the clasp of your bra—but it’s too late.

In one swift motion, Wriothesley grabs your ankle and twists you onto your stomach—his weight settling above you as he kneels onto the bed. You shiver when his knuckles brush against your skin—his fingers swiftly undoing your bra.

“You’re just a little brat, aren’t you…” 

He speaks the words fondly, with a hint of amusement, and yet, they still go straight to your cunt. 

“Don’t say things like that,” you respond, instinctively raising your hips when Wriothesley hooks his fingers on your underwear and begins tugging them down your thighs. He stares intently at your backside as he does so, an idea popping into his mind.

“Why? Because you like it too much?”

He discards your panties on the floor along with the rest of the clothes you’d both shed, and then grabs your knees, forcing you to spread your legs, so he can properly settle between them. 

Another blush rises on your face at his words, your tongue feeling heavy in your mouth. At your lack of response, Wriothesely continues.

“In my understanding, brats tend to like it a little rougher, so…” 

His hands ghost up your thighs, to your hips, and he grips you tightly—forcing your lower half off the bed until you’re propped up on your knees—his cock sitting heavy against your ass.

“...what say we continue like this, hm?”

Bracing yourself on your forearms, you turn your head back to look at him—your body tensing as you watch him fist his cock and drag it downward, between the lips of your pussy. 

His icy eyes catch yours.

“Any objection?”

“...no,” you mumble, your fingers anticipatedly fisting in the sheets. 

Wriothesley nods—

“Good.”

—and then presses the head of his cock inside you.

Immediately, you drop your forehead against the mattress—willing your body to relax for him as he slowly inches inside of you.

His tongue had certainly been enjoyable, but this? Fuck. Nothing compares to the sensation of him slowly stuffing you inch by inch—the girth of his cock positively delicious as he forces your cunt to stretch to accommodate him.

It’s so much that by the time he’s fully seated inside of you, your body is shaking—your breath coming out in quick, desperately little pants.

Seeing your reaction, Wriothesely soothes a hand up your spine, his warm palm settling between your shoulder blades. He decides to start slow—to give you a little more time to adjust to him. 

And honestly, he’d love to take his time in general—to really savor the sight of you beneath him, your cunt swallowing his cock so perfectly, but alas. The effects of the aphrodisiac make him impatient with need, and it’s not long before he’s moving faster—little gasps and whines finding their way past your lips as he begins fucking you back onto his cock.

“Ahh…seriously you’re…so fucking tight,” he curses. His fingers dig into the plush of your hip—his jaw clenching, and his racing heart pumping lust through his veins.

Your cunt clamping on his dick seriously might be his personal slice of heaven.

“Wrio, I—,” you can’t even get the words out, your brain short-circuiting. You can’t think straight anymore—not with his cock rubbing you in all the right spots, making a mess of your insides, and quickly rocketing you towards another—

Wait, no, it’s only been a minute—!

“Fuck! ” 

You choke the word out, your spine curving and your knuckles turning white as your second orgasm of the night is unexpectedly forced out of you—your pussy spasming around Wriothesley’s dick.

The last of your strength officially drained, you collapse forward onto the mattress, your cheek smushing into the covers.

…however, Wriothesley doesn’t allow your lower half to fall along with the rest of you—his hold on your hips keeping your twitching pussy firmly planted on his still-hard dick.

“We’re not done yet, sweetheart,” he reminds you, his cock continuing to languidly drag between your walls, drawing out the tail end of your pleasure.

You can’t help but whimper at his words, already feeling a bit oversensitive thanks to two consecutive orgasms. Wriothesley does his best to soothe your frayed nerves.

Leaning over you, he gently tangles his fist in your hair—coaxing your head off the mattress so he can kiss you. 

The kiss is messy, but sweet—the angle of your bodies forcing his cock deeper inside of you, his hips completely flush against your ass.

“You’re doing so good,” he tells you, peppering a trail of kisses against your cheek, and across your jaw. His praise causes you to whimper, a shiver raking up your spine when his tongue drags across your skin—his teeth nipping at the nape of your neck.

His actions successfully get you to relax—your body becoming more pliable in his grasp as he once again begins to move. And soon enough, the wet sound of sex fills his bedroom once more.

Wanting to help him cum (and to feel his seed fill you), you do your best to help Wriothesley along—purposefully flexing the walls of your pussy as he fucks you. However, in doing so, you accidentally start yourself down the path of yet another orgasm…

Feeling the familiar, aching pleasure beginning to build inside of you once again, you quickly stop what you’re doing. You think that a third orgasm honestly might kill you, but…it’s too late.

Wriothesley has already noticed your growing arousal, and decides that he likes it better when the two of you cum together.

So, he sneaks one of his hands between the apex of your legs, and begins rubbing at your clit.

The garbled, desperate cry that leaves your mouth immediately becomes seared in his mind for a long time to come.

“No, Wrio, I…I can’t. I—”

Your words come out jumbled, tears beading on your lash line.

Momentarily removing his hand from your clit, he once again reaches forward and grips your hair—pulling your head back so he can kiss you. His lips swallow up your worries.

“You can,” he insists, his voice whispering in your ear, and his hot breath fanning over your skin. 

“I want you to cum with me, pretty girl. You can do it.”

You give no protest aside from a cute little whine, and that's good enough for Wriothesley.

Releasing your hair, his hand finds your clit once more.

He then proceeds to fuck you into the mattress—pursuing his orgasm with abandon. A groan leaves his mouth at the way your pussy starts clamping on his dick once again—tightening up with each pass of his fingers across your clit—your pussy slick and messy with your own arousal.

Unable to think straight, you can only hold on for dear life—clinging to his sheets like a lifeline. You can’t even process the sounds that are coming out of your own mouth—a damned, desperate symphony moans.

To Wriothesley, it all sounds like a siren's cry—beckoning him closer to the edge.

“Shit,” he pants, feeling his cock throb, and his balls tighten. The motion of his fingers on your clit quickens—your toes curling as the coil of pleasure in your tummy continues to wind—so close to snapping.

Sweat beading on his brow, Wriothesley leans forward, curling his body against yours. His teeth nip at the shell of your ear, his husky voice sending goosebumps across your skin.

“So good for me…,” he breathes, his hips smacking into your ass. His broad strokes deteriorate into needy rutting, and the sensation has you quite literally sobbing—his cock now incessantly grinding into your g-spot.

You can’t take it anymore.

Shoving your face into the mattress, you bite the sheets and scream—your entire body shaking as you cum for a third time, your cunt milking around Wriothesley’s cock.

He curses at the feeling, his face burying in your neck. Wrapping his arms around you, he hugs you to his body—fucking inside of you a few more times before finally joining you in ecstasy. 

His teeth sink into you as his orgasms peaks, a heady groan muffled against your skin as his balls empty—pumping you full of his cum.

It’s not until the intensity of his pleasure has died down that Wriothesley ultimately releases you from his hold—your lower half immediately flopping down onto the bed, and his softening cock slipping out of you.

The Duke takes a moment to simply look at you, and how fucked out you are. Your eyes bleary, skin flushed, and the imprint of his teeth engraved in your flesh.

He grunts at the sight, and settles in beside you—his arm curling around your waist as he tugs you back against him. His tongue immediately begins lapping at the bite mark he’d inflicted, attempting to soothe the sting.

After a few seconds, you begin shaking, and Wriothesley immediately pauses, scared that he’s hurt you in some way.

…only to realize that you’re laughing.

“...puppy…”

He props himself up, glancing at you.

“What?”

“You really are like a puppy,” you giggle, your finger lifting to brush a stray tear from your eye. “The way you bit me, and then immediately started licking at it in apology. So cute…”

You break into another tiny fit of laughter, and Wriothesley rolls his eyes, yet can’t help cracking a smile.

“Well, I’m glad to know I didn’t break you, at the very least.”

His hand rubs against your waist.

“...right?”

Finally getting ahold of yourself, you roll onto your back and smile at him, your hand reaching out to cup his cheek. He immediately leans into your touch, and it makes your heart flutter.

“I’m not broken, no. Just…sore. And gross. And sweaty.”

Wriothesley chuckles.

“Well, I think I can rectify some of those issues. I do have a bathroom, with a tub.”

“Wow,” you respond, watching him as he scoots to the edge of the mattress and gets to his feet. He waits a second for you to join him, but you don’t move.

“My…limbs feel like jello,” you admit, raising your arm and flopping it back down bonelessly for emphasis. Wriothesley rolls his eyes, but nonetheless leans over the bed and scoops you into his arms.

You rest your cheek against his chest, admiring for the first time how soft it really is.

“Whatever shall I do with you,” he playfully sighs, carrying you into the adjacent bathroom. He sets you on the vanity, moving over to the tub and turning on the tap for the hot water. You hum.

“Mmm, I can think of a few things you can do. The first of which is helping me into the bath once it’s ready.”

Wriothesley quietly chuckles. Returning to your side, he takes your hand, and brings it to his lips.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Once the tub has filled, the Duke keeps true to his word—once again carefully cradling you in his arms as he seats himself in the tub basin, before positioning you in the space between his legs.

The steaming water immediately soothes the ache of your body, and you sigh in relief—sinking back against Wriothesley’s body. He lightly wraps one arm around your waist, the other resting on the edge of the tub.

For a few long minutes, the two of you bask in silence, simply enjoying the refreshing feel of the bath. 

…then, you start to notice something beginning to grow—pressing at your back.

“...really? Is the aphrodisiac still getting to you that much?”

“No,” he admits after a beat, leaning forward to kiss your neck. “I think this one is actually all me.”

You roll your eyes, but nonetheless crane your head to the side—allowing him access to more of your skin as his mouth begins to wander.

“I thought I made it clear that my limbs are jello right now.”

“I can work with that,” he responds, and you feel him grin. His hand slowly trails down your stomach, and between your legs.

“I’ll do all the work. You just get to make pretty sounds and feel good.”

His fingers slide between the folds of your pussy, and you jolt as he passes over your overly-sensitive clit. But seriously…how are you going to say no to him?

“What am I going to do with you?” you sigh, echoing his earlier words. His chest rumbles with laughter, and he grabs your chin with his free hand—turning your head so he can kiss you.

“Mmm, I can think of a few things.”

The next morning, you find yourself in a back in your clothes, standing beside Wriothesley just inside his office door.

“I’ll go first,” you say, to which he nods. “I have some errands to run anyway. You can wait a minute and then come out after me.”

“Sounds good.”

The two of you stare at each other for a second, before you finally square your shoulders, and reach for the door handle. 

Before you can twist it, Wriothesley catches your wrist. When you look back at him, you find that there’s a blush on his cheeks.

“So, I’ll…see you later?”

His suddenly bashful demeanor causes you to smile. Pressing onto your toes, you cup his cheeks and softly kiss him. He immediately grabs your waist—deepening the kiss.

“You’ll see me later,” you promise. 

With that, the two of you finally separate, and you disappear through his office door.

Wriothesley takes a deep breath at your departure, combing a hand through his hair as he waits for the right moment to make his own exit.

To be safe, he decides to wait a good few minutes. But finally, he opens his door—preparing to venture into the main area of the fortress, and make his normal rounds.

…however, he only makes it a step before remembering the sign Sigewinne had made.

With a sigh, he immediately backtracks and tears the DO NOT DISTURB sign off of his door, crumpling it between his palms.

When he turns back around, he nearly jumps—Sigewinne standing right in front of him.

“So,” she says, a pleased grin on her face. “How’d it go?”

Narrowing his eyes, Wriothesley only stares ahead, and walks past her. She easily follows after him.

“The fact that you’re out and about this early in the day means something likely happened between you and Y/N.”

“No comment,” Wriothesley responds, which makes Sigewinne giggle. They pass by a few prisoners as Wriothesley makes a B-line for the elevator to the production zone. Once there, Sigewinne squeezes herself in along with him.

As the elevator begins to descend, only a few seconds pass in silence, before Sigewinne asks one last question.

“As your doctor, it’s my recommendation that you continue to regularly relieve your stress. So, are you going to be dutifully carrying out my orders from now on?”

Wriothesley makes a little face, glancing away from her.

“...maybe.”

Sigewinne smiles. 

That’s good enough for her.

[A Dragon's Constitution] ->

[destinysbounty]

One thing I find unexpectedly fascinating about Monstrosity is that when you think about it, it'd really only work with Kai as the protagonist. And I don't just mean that because Rusty could only be awakened by a fire elemental, and without Rusty Kai would've died at the spooky death-siren lake - although that's definitely a part of the equation. What I mean is that Kai's specific personality was vital to not only his survival, but also to the retention of his humanity, and that likely wouldn't have been possible if almost any other character was swapped into his position.

Let me elaborate.

Although it's certainly true that not all timeskip scenarios were created equal, and that the Merge treated some people better than others (cough cough Cole), it's also worth noting that each character's experiences are heavily defined by their own unique personalities, strengths, and flaws. If you shuffled everyone around into different post-Merge outcomes, you'd have a vastly different story.

For example, Cole absolutely flourished in the Land of Lost Things, but not everyone would - Pixal in particular would really struggle there. She's normally someone who is always on her A-game so long as she has a goal to accomplish and a clear path towards doing so, and it's rare for her to face a lot of internal conflict over her motivations/ideals. But if you put her in a situation where she has to choose between leaving the Finders to reunite with her friends, or forsaking her friends to protect the Finders...I think that no matter which option she chose, she'd be deeply troubled by it, and would not cope with that conflict of interest nearly as well as Cole has.

Whereas Lloyd, if you placed him in the stasis pod instead of Pixal, would suffer just as greatly. As much as he struggled emotionally in his years of isolation in the monastery, I think it'd almost fuck him up even more to find out he slept through the Merge entirely - and has (in his eyes) failed to keep his team safe and intact. That they've had to fend for themselves without him around to do his job as the leader.

And so on and so forth. You get the general idea. (Honestly, it's kind of a fun thought exercise to explore how everyone would cope if they all got switched around into different scenarios. You should definitely try it!)

Of course, Monstrosity in particular is a fascinating case study of this. If you put any other ninja in this story, you'd get a drastically different one - and in a lot of fundamental ways, it just straight-up wouldn't work.

See, the core theme of the miniseries is about balancing ruthlessness and mercy, knowing when to fight and when to show compassion, and how to fight monsters without becoming a monster yourself. And honestly? Kai is arguably the only person on the team who could effectively navigate that balancing act.

On the one hand you have characters like Pixal, Nya, and Jay - characters who would most likely fall too far onto the ruthlessness side of things and lose themselves.

Pixal is a very determined person - as mentioned above, so long as she has a goal and an action plan, she isn't prone to giving up or losing hope. She will keep trudging along her chosen path until it is accomplished, never stopping to let anything slow her down. Sure, she'd definitely be haunted by her choices after the fact, but in the moment I don't think she'd ever let herself slow down long enough to introspect in that way. She's too busy getting back to her family to think deeply about the moral implications of her actions, or to reflect on who/what she's becoming. She'd definitely be haunted by her choices, sure, but that's not to imply she would ever meaningfully deconstruct or process those feelings at all. She is, of course, an alumni at the Zane Julien School of Processing Trauma.

Nya is similar to Pixal in a lot of ways, but she's also naturally a very ruthless person with a teensy bit of bloodlust to her (affectionate). She also has at least one canon instance of sacrificing her humanity to save her family. This isn't new to her. Daidan would tell her that she can't survive in a land of monsters without becoming a monster herself and she'd go "bet", then proceed to beat the shit out of anything that looks at her wrong. Not to mention that the weird death-siren lake would probably fuck her up in a lot of really complicated Seabound-related ways that I don't think she'll ever be ready or willing to unpack.

My placement of Jay on this side of the spectrum may face some scrutiny, but hear me out first. Although Jay acts very lighthearted and goofy in front of others, it's canon that this persona is a facade he wears to save face and hide how anxious he really feels. On some level, I would argue that Jay subconsciously self-sabotages whenever he's fighting in a group, deferring to the strength of others out of insecurity/codependency rather than trusting his own skill. But when he's on his own and has no audience left to perform for, we see Jay's full potential shine through - we see him be strong, and clever, and even a leader. And on rare occasions, usually when Nya or someone he loves is in danger, he can even be brutal. Jay would absolutely have an awful time in Monstrosity, don't get me wrong - but he'd also exhibit a level of competence and efficiency only ever seen during elimination seasons. And that same efficiency would be his downfall. Jay loves his family, he loves Nya, and he also really hates dying. I don't have a doubt in my mind that he would do whatever it takes to make it back to Nya, even if he's miserable the whole time.

Of course, that's not to say that the rest of the team has it any better. Just because Cole, Zane, and Lloyd tilt pretty far onto the "mercy" side of the spectrum, doesn't mean that's necessarily a good thing in this situation.

Cole is extremely community-oriented, and he is constantly making friends and forming meaningful connections everywhere he goes. With Chen's other prisoners, with Yang, with that not-so-random baby he found, with Krag, with the Upply, and now with the Finders. If Cole cannot find a community, he will create it. On the rare occasions that he is alone, it is usually a dire situation involving extremely poor mental health. When his isolation is self-inflicted, it's usually out of grief. And when circumstances forcibly isolate him....well, go rewatch DotD and MotO, and watch how Cole handles just a few hours of forced isolation from his family. I can't imagine he'd handle several weeks alone in the Land of Monsters without becoming completely unglued. Cole's biggest strength is his social sturdiness - not just as the rock his team relies on, but as the foundation upon which everyone he meets can cultivate a sense of community. But in isolation that strength becomes a double-edged sword, and I believe the brutal emptiness of the Land of Monsters would leave him in an even worse emotional state than Kai.

Zane is no stranger to being stranded in foreign realms, armed with nothing but the singular objective to return home. But I think he would be so paranoid about falling into old routines that he would overcompensate too far in the other direction, rendering him too soft to make it through the Land of Monsters in one piece. That's not to imply he was going to make it out in one piece to begin with, of course. This is Zane we're talking about. I'd be surprised if he goes three days without dying horribly in some way or another. Whether it's out of self-sacrifice or because he pulled punches where he shouldn't have and paid the price, that man is not lasting more than a week.

Lloyd...honestly, he's arguably the closest anyone gets to matching Kai's balance on this issue. The case could certainly be made that Lloyd would effectively replace Kai in Monstrosity...but idk, I personally don't buy it. If you ask me, I think he veers a bit too much into the "too afraid of being like his dad to let himself become a monster" spectrum. This would go one of two ways: 1) he goes the way of Zane and/or Cole, and over-softens himself out of paranoia; 2) he initially tries to over-soften himself, but everything gets to him until he eventually snaps and goes full Oni Mode. Personally, I've got my money on option 2.

The takeaway here isn't that any member of the team is inherently better or worse than the others, just that they all have particular strengths and weaknesses that serve them well in their given scenarios. But those scenarios would only work with them as the main character, and nowhere is that more apparent than with Monstrosity. Zane could never withstand Lloyd's years of isolation in the monastery, just like Jay would become an anxious mess if he had to be responsible for the Kragglings' civil war, just like Kai would absolutely have the worst time if he got stuck in the Administration, just like Nya would go stir-crazy in the Land of Lost Things.

Monstrosity is fundamentally a Kai storyline, down to its DNA. And I think that's part of why he comes across as so beautifully written in this miniseries. There is no aspect of it that you can separate from Kai without changing the fundamental core of the story itself. He's the only one on the team who could do something like this. The only one who could survive in the Land of Monsters without either dying horribly or losing himself along the way.

And idk, I just think that's neat.

[vsa-pieldepapel]

But alas it was not programmed

or an honest to god can't believe i am doing this, is this real life holy shit i am so excited ralsus analysis of chapters 3 and 4

Contains spoilers for both chapters, both main route and secret boss so unless you want everything thoroughly spoiled don't read. Also contains details of chapter 2.

The script dictates the play

Chapter 4 was VERY VERY INTERESTING. I will return to 3 when it comes to minor details on the development of the ralsei/susie relationship, but 4 was what cemented my view on this.

extremely shortly before the new chapters released I did snowgrave for the first time and discovered I am a weenie who can't cope with doing any bad route in toby fox games (i do want to see what happens if you make the fusion item of the thorn ring, so I will let noelle slap me and take it like a champ. im sorry kris). But it also brought forth details I had previously not considered, specifically when Susie goes into Noelle's room.

In chapter 2, if you return to the banner with the ferris wheel once ral and susie are in your party, Ral comments on how Susie must be thinking about her ride with Noelle, and he says this even if you refused to watch the scene take place (which I know because I did exactly that). Susie is not thinking about her ride with Noelle. She's thinking about the etymology of the word Ferris. Ralsei knew this event was going to happen even if he can't send the player to witness it.

When I did Snowgrave, Susie exits the same door she entered. This means there probably was no Ferris Wheel, since it does transport the two of them from a Point A to a Point B in the normal route. Ralsei seems very agitated about this and this is one of the hints we get that was thoroughly reinforced in the new chapters that he knows what events are supposed to take place and he can notice the actions of the player have made the prophecy go off course. He specifically asks Susie what she did with Noelle. My personal take is that since the weird route is you faux-emboldening Noelle by using Kris as a conduit to brainwash her into "taking what she wants" even through aggressive means, that thinking it was all a dream she took what she wanted and kissed Susie. Her refusal to tell Ralsei and then telling Kris she'll let them know later indicates to me that she's probably trying to protect his innocence and/or his feelings. I think Susie felt very cool in that moment and liked that kiss, because it's a boost to her poor self confidence to feel wanted by a pretty girl like Noelle.

Notably in chapter 4 we learn that the prophecy can get incredibly specific with the events that happen within it, down to details like Lancer calling Ralsei "toothpaste boy". Given Ralsei instinctually knows so much about how events are supposed to play out, he absolutely knows about how the relationships between the heroes will develop... which I am convinced is the reason he says "Susie must be thinking about her ride with Noelle".

And then you enter the second temple and find out

LOVE FINDS ITS WAY TO THE GIRL.

Suselle is a foretold event of the prophecy. It's scripted. He is worried about what Susie and Noelle were doing because there was a possibility one of the events that are supposed to happen isn't happening, and susie being vague about it leaves that question unanswered. Love finds its way to the girl, so after the Ferris Wheel he checks that off the To Do List of prophecy events.

Even the way that is phrased, Love finds its Way to the Girl, sets the girl as a passive receiver. I already saw someone say it as Ssuie finding love, but that's not what the prophecy says! The prophecy phrases it as "Love finds its way to the girl"!

That is the reason all of the scenes with Susie and Noelle are so saccharine and inoffensive, they have no conflict or development other than a cutesy but bland hangout. That is why you can simply speed your way past them both times they happen, once by outright skipping the scene, which has no consequences, and one by just touching the breaker and the guitar quickly (you only get all the dialogue if you stay still and wait for a long long fucking time). It is events playing out like they're supposed to play out. It is the trains following the track. I have seen people phrase the ferris wheel and this hangout as evidence that "susie and noelle are obviously intended to be shipped", and it's like, yes, exactly. That is what the prophecy says. That is what the game wants you to think.

But there is a problem

Dragon-shaped wrench

Susie does not do prophecies.

The guts stat is accepted fandomwise to be an indicator of how much the party member is up to defy the player. Susie has always had the highest Guts stat. You have never been able to tell Susie what to do. Susie doesn't do the prophecy the way it is expected.

She recognises the girl with her heart crossed with hope as herself, and she doesnt recognise the statue noelle had in her room as herself. But that Susie is using a sword, and our Susie uses axes because it's cooler. When Ralsei and her argue and make it out of the argument and he promises to be more honest, he states outright that the bows and ribbons are meant to be worn by her, which fits with the fact that she was put into bows as a kid. But Susie is gnc, she doesn't want to do bows, and so she doesn't. She is a hero, and embodies the core features of one, caring and bravery and perseverance, but she's also messy, aggressive, and loud. She is still the Hero of the Girl with her heart crossed with Hope, but she does that her own way.

She does follow the core beats of the prophecy, but at every step there is a twist to it, a subversion, because her will is just that strong.

Even if you explicitly tell Susie to flirt with Noelle in the Ferris Wheel (say something romantic), she doesn't.

Even if you tell Susie that Kris will take Ralsei to the Festival so she can invite Noelle, Ralsei is her first choice. She starts considering Noelle after it is abundantly clear that he cannot be there. She even brings this up in the susie noelle hangout in chapter 4, mentioning explicitly that there's this boy from another school she invited and he couldn't go.

Even then, she only takes Noelle as an affront to Carol, that is the last straw, what convinces her to invite her.

So love finds its way to the girl. But does the girl want it?

Boom Boom get out the way

The ghost of Gerson Boom is the secret boss fight of Chapter 4, a fight you do with Susie and ONLY susie. Considering Gerson is the first character we see shatter the prophecy holograms, which is very clear symbolism for taking things in your own hands, I'm convinced the reason he tests her and the weapon being for her is because Gerson can see that she's the one who has the strongest Guts. That she is the one that can show the gumption to do what he wants the youth to do: Take up the pen and write their own stories. Take fate into their own hands.

The dialogue in the Gerson fight is quite bluntly parallel to the major beats of the chapters, with specific turns of phrase and subversions. Obviously, the heroes don't "stop the dragon" by slaying it; they "stop the dragon" by befriending her and showing her the value of connections with others. Considering that, the fifth chapter onwards is really interesting.

Field of Pink and Gold... Pink and yellow are the colors susie's and Noelle's names and attack numbers show in the Dark World. The garden is burnt by the flames of jealousy. There is so much going on here. You have Kris there, seeing their childhood friend be gooey with their new friend. You have Noelle seeing Kris and Susie bond fast. You have Susie, insecure about the history Kris and Noelle have... You have Susie mentioning "the boy from another school". Often, perhaps. We can't know yet, of course. None of this may be true lol. But it gives me a gut feeling. And after the fifth chapter... Nothing! An open end! And Gerson asks Susie... What does she want? You have the controller, choose what to do

Going back to Susie and Ralsei.

All the way in Chapter 1-2 we have Ralsei being shocked and interested in Susie's impressive will. In the latter though there is an interesting thing he says, admiring her "selfish" tendencies, her just doing what she wants. And now we are seeing--- repeatedly--- that that's not just a seed planted in his head from observing her, but that Susie wants him to exert his will, to be "selfish". She gives him cake, and tells him to eat it all, that he deserves, at the very least, a slice. That he deserves a nice room, like the ones he has given them. Interacting with her across chapter 4 you do see her considering furniture to put in his room.

In chapter 3, if you ask her how she's doing rather than Ralsei, she's still anxious about the dark world not being real, but then she says: I wish Ralsei understood that doesn't matter that much to me. If you ask Ralsei how he's doing, he compels you to buy her some ice cream in his name, because he worries about being insufficient for her, though she desperately wants to have him around to the point she is willing to shatter the Last Prophecy to make it happen.

Contrary to the susie noelle hangout and the ferris wheel, you cannot skip these things, other than the "normal" skip of making text go by really fast. You get to see them argue, you get to see them fight for each other, you get to see Susie telling Ralsei that he can be player one; you see her promise to him that she won't let the Last Prophecy happen, filling him with wanting to live, with wanting to hope!!!, you get to see her invite him to the festival, initiating herself, regardless of what answer you gave her in ch2. Optionally, you can see them playing videogames together, you can see her giving him the cake, though she's very food motivated, you can see her deciding that he needs proper furniture, calling bullshit on his self deprecation, and all the way in chapter 2 you can see her cornered because she finds his face cute...

But Ralsei is not yet selfish.

I think he feels quite tortured. She is so nice "it makes his heart hurt". And I think on some level, this is because he knows that it's not what says in the script. That Susie should be with Noelle, because Love Finds Its Way To The Girl. But now he has all these new ideas... He feels like he can have his own opinions, be his own person. He's told it's okay to be sad. He now has to be, at least, conflicted about his own role versus his wants. And the game is very, very clear that Susie and Ralsei influence each other, often for the betterment of both of them.

Now, has anything explicitly romantic happened yet? No, there is no kiss, and no i love you. But is all that not love? Holding your bloodied hand to the face of someone you care for, an intimate touch to boot, telling him that it will be alright, that you're willing to break fate for his sake? That he will never be left behind? Admitting to finding him attractive and being taken aback by it? Learning his magic and wanting to perfect it? Finding things to make his home a little warmer because you know what it is like to be somewhere empty and sad? Is it not love to want to get someone else to do something nice for her, because you can't do it, as much as you want to? Is it not love to feel your mindset change because this person you care about introduces so many new ideas it makes you feel alive again?

Stories get boring with repetition

Tenna and Gerson actually touch on narratives growing boring and dull when you can predict them. Brother, fucking NO ONE saw ralsei and susie coming because everyone was so fixated on the predictable. Oh, it's alphys and undyne again. Oh, it's definitely gonna happen, just look at the ferris wheel. Meanwhile the story itself states emphatically that you should look beyond what you can initially see. Search, analyse. It was so subtle that I thought it was serendipitous, that toby was too dumb to realise what he was writing. I am beginning to think otherwise, and the wider reaction to it tells me so. It was unpredictable. It was not the story that gets old because it's so repetitive.

And with that I close this rant.

[prokopetz]

Quibbling about etmology in fantastical settings is usually of limited interest because, well, every word has some origin, and – unless we're given some reason to believe that the setting's inhabitants are truly speaking modern English – we must assume that some notional localisation is taking place; the text's use of an English word which has, for example, a French origin does not inherently imply that the actual, literal country of of France exists in this setting, and so forth.

No, the interesting part is when the text decides to throw in a whole other real-world language. If everybody speaks English, clearly we're localising for the benefit of the Anglophone reader; and if everybody speaks either English or some invented language, we may conclude that English is standing in for a specific language which exists within the setting, with other languages being left unlocalised; but if most speech is in English, except some characters speak Russian, now we have a question on our hands.

A fantastical setting which represents its inhabitants as speaking the language of the work's target audience suggests nothing other than that the author wanted it to easily be read, but the presence of additional real-world languages represents a more significant choice. Why are we localising some but not all of the setting's languages as one spoken by the work's target audience? How was it decided which fictional languages should be represented by which real ones? Why Russian in particular? What exactly are we implying here?

[antiiqueness]

DANCE WITH ME

character: bakugou katsuki warnings: none i can think of, just kinda sad to sweet and very sentimental >.< words: 1.2k

synopsis:

”Years and years of Masaru begging his beloved son to listen and take interest in the things he did, before he eventually gave up. Katsuki didn’t even notice when exactly his father stopped asking him, wishing now more than ever he had listened. He wanted that outlet. He wanted to be able to find joy in tranquil activities. You made him want that.”

notes: i luv him so much i wanna die. i'm in the works for a spooky little AU for him as well as one for tomura so stay tuned for those im vv excited hehe

Growing up Katsuki's parents wanted him to be the best. To do everything. His mother wanted him to find art in more aggressive sports and hobbies. His father however, pushed for actual art. Masaru had a genuine joy for the peaceful and quiet, something of which he couldn’t enjoy as much as he’d wished for with the home he lived in. Nevertheless, in the seldom moments he had of quiet, he danced, and painted, and sat in the garden of their home, enjoying the moments he had to himself and his thoughts.  

As a kid, Katsuki hated how his father would get in specific “moods” where he just wanted to be to himself and his thoughts. He never truly understood it growing up, until he met you. You were so alike to his father; wanting to sit and enjoy the peace you had in random little moments and increments. It was such a foreign concept to Katsuki.  

He looked at you as if you were an anomaly. When the two of you had first begun dating, he just didn’t get it, who would want to be in areas of time where no one could sit and appreciate what you do. At least with volleyball, and boxing, and debate classes you earn respect for doing it and winning.  

He would sit and watch you in seemingly your own world, planting flowers, or annotating classic literature and be brought back in time to when he was 12 years old seeing his dad sit in the garden reading the same exact book with a pencil in hand. Certain foods you would make, and specific songs you would play would remind him of his father and how much Katsuki truly missed him. 

It was raining out the day he saw you swinging on the porch with a cup of tea and a book in hand, when he had called his dad. He wanted to understand it; he wanted that same peace the two of you seemed to hold so dearly. He wanted to bond over it.  

As a kid his father wanted him to take ballroom dance classes, was adamant it would be a healthy outlet to learn to express himself and to get lost in. Mitsuki and Katsuki were not big on the idea though, brushing it off and pursing their interests that more often than not landed them or others in hospital beds.  

Years and years of Masaru begging his beloved son to listen and take interest in the things he did, before he eventually gave up. Katsuki didn’t even notice when exactly his father stopped asking him, wishing now more than ever he had listened. He wanted that outlet. He wanted to be able to find joy in tranquil activities. You made him want that. 

“I'm going to my parents for a bit, want me to grab anything on the way home?” Katsuki stood by the door of the backyard, looking out at the back of your head, you sitting silently in a chair, rocking back and forth. “No, I'm okay baby. Thank you.” quietly muttered as if it were a secret, you don’t turn around. He doesn't want you to. He just stands for a moment more before muttering a quick goodbye and closing the door.  

The drive itself is weird. He doesn’t know if it’s age or if he was having an odd midlife crisis, but he doesn’t speak a word the entire drive, just quietly excelling forward.  

When he arrives at the house he had grown up in, spent every memory of birthdays and holidays, where he learned to ride a bike, where he had his first tooth fall out, every memory lingering in the air around the house, he just stands at the door for a moment.  

He doesn’t know what was different this time, but something was. Maybe himself. Maybe he had finally grown up. He was changed, and content with it.  

His attention is only brought back to the present tense when the door opens, and he sees his father's brown eyes staring back at him. Katsuki doesn’t know what comes over him, but without saying a single word, he gently pushes his way into the house and grabs ahold of his father. He felt like a little kid all over again. He just wanted to hug and talk to his dad. He wanted to take those ballroom dance classes. He wanted to bond with him. 

So that's what they did. Masaru was a man of few words most his life, keeping relatively quiet and to himself, but coming completely out of his shell with his son now. He had taught Katsuki everything he wanted to learn with a small smile and a joy Katsuki had never seen in his father.  

By the end of the night Masaru had grabbed an old record and put it on the player, having classical music whirl throughout the house, before turning to Katsuki and teaching him how to dance. Mitsuki watched quietly, quieter than Katsuki had ever seen her, with a smile and tears gleaming her eyes, happy she could see her two favorite people bonding in ways she knew her husband had always wanted to with him. 

Katsuki felt closer to them, he felt as though he had truly understood family finally. He drove home with a smile, a calm, content smile that had rarely graced his handsome face, cheerful all the way up the steps to the home he shared with you.  

Opening the door, he knew his perspective had changed, knew that life was different, a good different, and that he was fortunate enough to share it with you. You had this lopsided smile on your face when you had seen him walk through the door, raising an eyebrow and walking closer to him, covered in little raindrops.  

“I assume you had a good night at your parents’ place?” Helping him out of his jacket, you move to hang it on the rack before he stops you and interlaces his fingers with yours. “Let's dance.” he says simply, looking down at you with a look in his beautifully light eyes that gleamed and shone in enamor and affection.  

“What?” you laughed, taken aback and smiling even bigger, “Yeah, I wanna dance with you.” Tossing his phone onto the counter, the same song his father played for him started to drift throughout his new home, the home he shared with you, the home in which he held dearest of all, simply because you existed in it. you were his home.  

Grabbing ahold of you like his dad had shown him how to, he started to sway slowly, leaning his head against yours, and tightening his grip on your hips ever so lightly. He looked so odd, there was no anger, no irritation, no malice in his features whatsoever, just pure contentment. You wanted to live in this moment for the rest of the days you two had together, falling in love with him all over again.  

Katsuki Bakugou was great at many things, but as he grew and matured, he became great at understanding life, and how much peace was truly worth, especially if it meant this is how he could spend the rest of his life with you.